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diff --git a/old/35589-0.txt b/old/35589-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ca54932..0000000 --- a/old/35589-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,37105 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's Story of My Life, volumes 1-3, by Augustus J. C. Hare - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Story of My Life, volumes 1-3 - -Author: Augustus J. C. Hare - -Release Date: March 16, 2011 [EBook #35589] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STORY OF MY LIFE, VOLUMES 1-3 *** - - - - -Produced by Chuck Greif and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at -http://www.pgdp.net (This book was produced from scanned images of -public domain material from the Internet Archive.) - - - - - - - - -THE STORY OF MY LIFE - -VOLUMES 1-3 - -[Illustration: Georgiana Hare Naylor - -From a miniature] - - - - -THE STORY OF -MY LIFE - -BY - -AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE - -AUTHOR OF "MEMORIALS OF A QUIET LIFE," -"THE STORY OF TWO NOBLE LIVES," -ETC. ETC. - -LONDON -GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD -1896 - -[_All rights reserved_] - -_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. -_At the Ballantyne Press_ - - - -VOLUME 1 - - - - -PREFACE - - -In the autumn of 1878, the desire to comfort and amuse one of my kindest -friends during hours of wearing pain and sickness induced me to begin -writing down some of the reminiscences of my life. As almost all those -who shared my earlier interests and affections had passed away, I -fancied at first that it would be impossible to rescue anything like a -connected story from "the great shipwreck of Time." But solitude helps -remembrance; and as I went on opening old letters and journals with the -view of retracing my past life, it seemed to unfold itself to memory, -and I found a wonderful interest in following once more the old track, -with its almost forgotten pleasures and sorrows, though often reminded -of the story of the old man who, when he heard for the first time the -well-known adage, "Hell is paved with good intentions," added promptly, -"Yes, and roofed with lost opportunities." - -Many will think mine has been a sad life. But, as A. H. Mackonochie -said, "No doubt our walk through this little world is through much fog -and darkness and many alarms, but it is wonderful, when one looks back, -to see how little the evils of life have been allowed to leave real -marks upon our course, or upon our present state." - -And besides this, Time is always apt to paint the long-ago in fresh -colours, making what was nothing less than anguish at the time quite -light and trivial in the retrospect; sweeping over and effacing the -greater number of griefs, joys, and friendships; though ever and anon -picking out some unexpected point as a fixed and lasting landmark. "Le -Temps, vieillard divin, honore et blanchit tout." - -Many, doubtless, who read these pages, may themselves recollect, or may -remember having heard others give, a very different impression of the -persons described. But, as the old Italian proverb says, "Every bird -sings its own note," and I only give my own opinion. Pope reminds us -that-- - - "'Tis with our judgments as our watches--none - Go just alike--yet each believes his own." - -And after all, "De mortuis omnia" is perhaps a wholesomer motto than -"Nil nisi bonum," and if people believed it would be acted upon, their -lives would often be different. While one is just, however, one ought to -remember that nothing can be more touching or pathetic than the -helplessness of the dead. "Speak of me as I am," says Othello, "nothing -extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." - -Since I have latterly seen more of what is usually called "the -world"--the little world which considers the great world its -satellite--and of the different people who compose it, the later years I -have described will probably be the most interesting to such as care to -read what I have written. I have myself, I think, gradually learnt what -an "immense folio life is, requiring the utmost attention to be read and -understood as it ought to be."[1] But to me, my earlier years will -always seem far the most important, the years throughout which my -dearest mother had a share in every thought and was the object of every -act. To many, my up-bringing will probably appear very odd, and I often -feel myself how unsuited it was to my character, and how little that -character or my own tastes and possible powers were consulted in -considerations of my future. Still, when from middle life one overlooks -one's youth as one would a plain divided into different fields from a -hill-top, when "la vérité s'est fait jour," one can discern the faulty -lines and trace the mistakes which led to them, but one cannot even then -see the difficulties and perplexities which caused inevitable errors of -judgment in those who could not see the end when they were thinking -about the beginning. Therefore, though there is much in the earlier part -of my life which I should wish to rearrange if I could plan it over -again, I am sure that the little which may be good in me is due to the -loving influence which watched over my childhood, whilst my faults are -only my own. In the latter years of her life, my dear adopted mother and -I became constantly more closely united. The long period of sickness and -suffering, which others may have fancied to be trying, only endeared her -to me a thousandfold, and since the sweet eyes closed and the gentle -voice was hushed for ever in November 1870, each solitary year has only -seemed like another page in an unfinished appendix. - -I once heard a lady say that "biographies are either lives or stuffed -animals," and there is always a danger of their being only the latter. -But, as Carlyle tells us, "a true delineation of the smallest man and -the scene of his pilgrimage through life is capable of interesting the -greatest man, and human portraits, faithfully drawn, are of all pictures -the welcomest on human walls." It is certainly in proportion as a -biography is human or individual that it can have any lasting interest. -Also, "Those relations are commonly of the most value in which the -writer tells his own story."[2] - -I have allowed this story to tell itself when it was possible by means -of contemporary letters and journals, convinced that they at least -express the feeling of the moment to which they narrate, and that they -cannot possibly be biassed by the after-thoughts under the influence of -which most autobiographies are written, and in which "la mémoire se plie -aux fantasies de l'amour propre." - - * * * * * - -My story is a very long one, and though only, as Sir C. Bowen would have -called it, "a ponderous biography of nobody," is told in great--most -people will say in far too much--detail. But to me it seems as if it -were in the petty details, not in the great results, that the real -interest of every existence lies. I think, also, though it may be -considered a strange thing to say, that the true picture of a whole -life--at least an English life--has never yet been painted, and -certainly all the truth of such a picture must come from its delicate -touches. Then, though most readers of this story will only read parts of -it, they are sure to be different parts. - -The book doubtless contains a great deal of _esprit des autres_, for I -have a helpless memory for sentences read or heard long ago, and put -away somewhere in my senses, but not of when or where they were read or -heard. - -Many of the persons described were very important to those of their own -time who might have had a _serrement de cœur_ in reading about them. -Therefore, if their contemporaries had been living, much must have -remained unwritten; but, as Sydney Smith said, "We are all dead now." - -Still, in looking over my MS., I have always carefully cut out -everything which could hurt the feelings of living persons: and I -believe very little remains which can even ruffle their sensibilities. - - - - - CONTENTS - - PAGE - - ANTECEDENTS 1 - CHILDHOOD 43 - BOYHOOD 170 - LYNCOMBE 247 - SOUTHGATE 297 - OXFORD LIFE 402 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -VOL. I - - - GEORGIANA, MRS. HARE NAYLOR. (_Photogravure_) _Frontispiece_ - PAGE - HURSTMONCEAUX CASTLE. (_Full-page woodcut_) _To face_ 4 - GLAMIS CASTLE 22 - AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE WITH LUCIA CECINELLI. - (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 50 - HURSTMONCEAUX RECTORY 55 - LIME 58 - FRANCIS G. HARE. (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 84 - HURSTMONCEAUX CASTLE 93 - THE DRAWING-ROOM AT LIME 101 - RUIN IN THE PALACE GARDEN, NORWICH 117 - THE CHAPEL DOOR, NORWICH 119 - STOKE RECTORY--THE APPROACH 126 - REV. O. LEYCESTER. (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 128 - PETSEY 132 - STOKE CHURCH 136 - STOKE RECTORY--THE GARDEN SIDE 141 - HURSTMONCEAUX 165 - THE VESTRY, HURSTMONCEAUX 188 - LEWES 195 - AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. _From S. Lawrence._ - (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 202 - REV. O. LEYCESTER'S GRAVE, STOKE CHURCHYARD 208 - EDWARD STANLEY, BISHOP OF NORWICH. (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 232 - THE TOWER AT ROCKEND, TORQUAY 252 - WILMINGTON PRIORY 257 - FLOWERS GREEN, HURSTMONCEAUX 259 - THE RYE GATE, WINCHELSEA 290 - IN ST. HELEN'S, BISHOPSGATE 336 - LE TOMBEAU NAPOLEON 349 - CANON STANLEY'S HOUSE, CANTERBURY 358 - SITE OF BECKET'S SHRINE, CANTERBURY 361 - STEPS AT LIME 367 - LIME, THE APPROACH 410 - ARCHDEACON HARE'S STUDY, HURSTMONCEAUX RECTORY 466 - JULIUS C. HARE. _From Richmond._ (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 468 - HURSTMONCEAUX CHURCH 483 - LIME, FROM THE GARDEN 491 - ALFRISTON 506 - - - - - -I - -ANTECEDENTS - - "Time doth consecrate; - And what is grey with age becomes religion."--SCHILLER. - - "I hope I may be able to tell the truth always, and to see it - aright, according to the eyes which God Almighty gives - me."--THACKERAY. - - -In 1727, the year of George the First's death, Miss Grace Naylor of -Hurstmonceaux, though she was beloved, charming, and beautiful, died -very mysteriously in her twenty-first year, in the immense and weird old -castle of which she had been the heiress. She was affirmed to have been -starved by her former governess, who lived alone with her, but the fact -was never proved. Her property passed to her first cousin Francis Hare -(son of her aunt Bethaia), who forthwith assumed the name of Naylor. - -The new owner of Hurstmonceaux was the only child of the first marriage -of that Francis Hare, who, through the influence first of the Duke of -Marlborough (by whose side, then a chaplain, he had ridden on the -battle-fields of Blenheim and Ramilies), and afterwards of his family -connections the Pelhams and Walpoles, rose to become one of the richest -and most popular pluralists of his age. Yet he had to be contented at -last with the bishoprics of St. Asaph and Chichester, with each of which -he held the Deanery of St. Paul's, the Archbishopric of Canterbury -having twice just escaped him. - -The Bishop's eldest son Francis was "un facheux détail de notre -famille," as the grandfather of Madame de Maintenon said of his son. He -died after a life of the wildest dissipation, without leaving any -children by his wife Carlotta Alston, who was his stepmother's sister. -So the property of Hurstmonceaux went to his half-brother Robert, son of -the Bishop's second marriage with Mary-Margaret Alston, heiress of the -Vatche in Buckinghamshire, and of several other places besides. Sir -Robert Walpole had been the godfather of Robert Hare-Naylor, and -presented him with a valuable sinecure office as a christening present, -and he further made the Bishop urge the Church as the profession in -which father and godfather could best aid the boy's advancement. -Accordingly Robert took orders, obtained a living, and was made a Canon -of Winchester. While he was still very young, his father had further -secured his fortunes by marrying him to the heiress who lived nearest to -his mother's property of the Vatche, and, by the beautiful Sarah Selman -(daughter of the owner of Chalfont St. Peter's, and sister of Mrs. -Lefevre), he had two sons--Francis and Robert, and an only daughter Anna -Maria, afterwards Mrs. Bulkeley. In the zenith of her youth and -loveliness, however, Sarah Hare died very suddenly from eating ices when -overheated at a ball, and soon afterwards Robert married a second -wife--the rich Henrietta Henckel, who pulled down Hurstmonceaux Castle. -She did this because she was jealous of the sons of her predecessor, and -wished to build a large new house, which she persuaded her husband to -settle upon her own children, who were numerous, though only two -daughters lived to any great age. But she was justly punished, for when -Robert Hare died, it was discovered that the great house which Wyatt had -built for Mrs. Hare, and which is now known as Hurstmonceaux Place, was -erected upon entailed land, so that the house stripped of furniture, and -the property shorn of its most valuable farms, passed to Francis -Hare-Naylor, son of Miss Selman. Mrs. Henckel Hare lived on to a great -age, and when "the burden of her years came on her" she repented of her -avarice and injustice, and coming back to Hurstmonceaux in childish -senility, would wander round and round the castle ruins in the early -morning and late evening, wringing her hands and saying--"Who could have -done such a wicked thing: oh! who could have done such a wicked thing, -as to pull down this beautiful old place?" Then her daughters, Caroline -and Marianne, walking beside her, would say--"Oh dear mamma, it was you -who did it, it was you yourself who did it, you know"--and she would -despairingly resume--"Oh no, that is impossible: it could not have been -me. I could not have done such a wicked thing: it could not have been me -that did it." My cousin Marcus Hare had at Abbots Kerswell a picture of -Mrs. Henckel Hare, which was always surrounded with crape bows. - -[Illustration: HURSTMONCEAUX CASTLE.] - -The second Francis Hare-Naylor and his brother Robert had a most unhappy -home in their boyhood. Their stepmother ruled their weak-minded father -with a rod of iron. She ostentatiously burnt the portrait of their -beautiful mother. Every year she sold a farm from his paternal -inheritance and spent the money in extravagance. In 1784 she parted with -the ancient property of Hos Tendis, at Sculthorpe in Norfolk, though -its sale was a deathblow to the Bishop's aged widow, Mary-Margaret -Alston. Yet, while accumulating riches for herself, she prevented her -husband from allowing his unfortunate elder sons more than £100 a year -apiece. With this income, Robert, the younger of the two, was sent to -Oriel College at Oxford, and when he unavoidably incurred debts there, -the money for their repayment was stopped even from his humble pittance. - -Goaded to fury by his stepmother, the eldest son, Francis, became -reckless and recklessly extravagant. He raised money at an enormous rate -of interest upon his prospects from the Hurstmonceaux estates, and he -would have been utterly ruined, morally as well as outwardly, if he had -not fallen in with Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire, who was captivated -by his good looks, charmed by his boldness and wit, and who made him the -hero of a living romance. By the Duchess he was introduced to her -cousin, another even more beautiful Georgiana, daughter of Jonathan -Shipley, Bishop of St. Asaph, and his wife Anna Maria Mordaunt, niece of -the famous Earl of Peterborough; and though Bishop Shipley did -everything he could to separate them, meetings were perpetually connived -at by the Duchess, till eventually the pair eloped in 1785. The -families on both sides renounced them with fury. The Canon of Winchester -never saw his son again, and I believe that Bishop Shipley never saw his -daughter. Our grandparents went to Carlsruhe, and then to Italy, where -in those days it was quite possible to live upon the £200 a year which -was allowed them by the Duchess of Devonshire, and where their four -sons--Francis, Augustus, Julius, and Marcus--were born. - -The story of Mrs. Hare-Naylor's struggling life in Italy is told in -"Memorials of a Quiet Life," and how, when the Canon of Winchester died, -and she hurried home with her husband to take possession of -Hurstmonceaux Place, she brought only her little Augustus with her, -placing him under the care of her eldest sister Anna Maria, widow of the -celebrated Sir William Jones, whom he ever afterwards regarded as a -second mother. - -The choice of guardians which Mrs. Hare-Naylor made for the children -whom she left at Bologna would be deemed a very strange one by many: but -gifted, beautiful, and accomplished, our grandmother was never -accustomed either to seek or to take advice: she always acted upon her -own impulses, guided by her own observation. An aged Spanish Jesuit was -living in Bologna, who, when his order was suppressed in Spain, had -come to reside in Italy upon his little pension, and, being skilled in -languages, particularly in Greek, had taken great pains to revive the -love of it in Bologna. Amongst his pupils were two brothers named -Tambroni, one of whom, discouraged by the difficulties he met with, -complained to his sister Clotilda, who, by way of assisting him, -volunteered to learn the same lessons. The old Jesuit was delighted with -the girl, and spared no pains to make her a proficient. Female -professors were not unknown in Bologna, and in process of time Clotilda -Tambroni succeeded to the chair of the Professor of Greek, once occupied -by the famous Laura Bassi, whom she was rendered worthy to succeed by -her beauty as well as by her acquirements. The compositions of Clotilda -Tambroni both in Greek and Italian were published, and universally -admired; her poems surprised every one by their fire and genius, and her -public orations were considered unrivalled in her age. Adored by all, -her reputation was always unblemished. When the French became masters of -Bologna, the University was suppressed, and to avoid insult and danger, -Clotilda Tambroni retired into private life and lived in great -seclusion. Some time after, she received an appointment in Spain, but, -just as she arrived there, accompanied by her monk-preceptor Dom -Emmanuele Aponte, the French had overturned everything. The pair -returned to Bologna, where Aponte would have been in the greatest -distress, if his grateful pupil had not insisted upon receiving him into -her own house, and not only maintained him, but devoted herself as a -daughter to his wants. After the Austrians had re-established the -University on the old system, Clotilda Tambroni was invited to resume -her chair, but as her health and spirits were then quite broken, she -declined accepting it, upon which the Government very handsomely settled -a small pension upon her, sufficient to ensure her the comforts of life. - -With Clotilda Tambroni and her aged friend, our grandmother Mrs. -Hare-Naylor, who wrote and spoke Greek as perfectly as her native -language, and who taught her children to converse in it at the family -repasts, naturally found more congenial companionship than with any -other members of the Bolognese society; and, when she was recalled with -her husband to England, she had no hesitation in intrusting three of her -sons to their care. Julius and Marcus were then only very beautiful and -engaging little children, but Francis, my father, was already eleven -years old, and a boy of extraordinary acquirements, in whom an almost -unnatural amount of learning had been implanted and fostered by his -gifted mother. The strange life which he then led at Bologna with the -old monk and the beautiful sibyl (for such she is represented in her -portrait) who attended him, only served to ripen the seed which had been -sown already, and the great Mezzofanti, who was charmed at seeing a -repetition of his own marvellous powers in one so young, voluntarily -took him as a pupil and devoted much of his time to him. To the year -which Francis Hare passed with Clotilda Tambroni at Bologna, in her -humble rooms with their tiled floors and scanty furniture, he always -felt that he owed that intense love of learning for learning's sake -which was the leading characteristic of his after life, and he always -looked back upon the Tambroni as the person to whom, next to his mother, -he was most deeply indebted. When he rejoined his parents at -Hurstmonceaux, he continued, under his new tutor, Dr. Lehmann, to make -such amazing progress as astonished all who knew him and was an intense -delight to his mother. - -Hurstmonceaux Place was then, and is still, a large but ugly house. It -forms a massy square, with projecting circular bows at the corners, the -appearance of which (due to Wyatt) produces a frightful effect outside, -but is exceedingly comfortable within. The staircase, the floors, and -the handsome doors, were brought from the castle. The west side of the -house, decorated with some Ionic columns, is part of an older -manor-house, which existed before the castle was dismantled. In this -part of the building is a small old panelled hall, hung round with -stags' horns from the ancient deer-park. The house is surrounded by -spacious pleasure-grounds. Facing the east front were, till a few years -ago, three very fine trees, a cedar, a tulip-tree, and a huge silver -fir. In my childhood it often used to be a question which of these trees -should be removed, as they were crowding and spoiling each other, and it -ended in their all being left, as no one could decide which was the -least valuable of the three. The wind has since that time carried away -the cedar. The tulip-tree was planted by our great-aunt Marianne, -daughter of Mrs. Henckel Hare, and I remember that my uncle Julius used -to say that its gay flowers were typical of her and her dress. - -For several years our grandparents carried on a most laborious contest -of dignity with poverty on their ruined estate of Hurstmonceaux, where -their only daughter Anna Maria Clementina was born in 1799. Finding no -congenial associates in the neighbourhood, Mrs. Hare-Naylor consoled -herself by keeping up an animated correspondence with all the learned -men of Europe, while her husband wrote dull plays and duller histories, -which have all been published, but which few people read then and nobody -reads now. The long-confirmed habits of Italian life, with its peculiar -hours and utter disregard of appearances, were continued in Sussex; and -it is still remembered at Hurstmonceaux how our grandmother rode on an -ass to drink at the mineral springs which abound in the park, how she -always wore white, and how a beautiful white doe always accompanied her -in her walks, and even to church, standing, during the service, at her -pew door. - -Upon the return of Lehmann to Germany in 1802, Francis Hare was sent to -the tutorship of Dr. Brown, an eminent professor in Marischal College at -Aberdeen, where he remained for two years, working with the utmost -enthusiasm. He seems to have shrunk at this time from any friendships -with boys of his own age, except with Harry Temple (afterwards -celebrated as Lord Palmerston), who had been his earliest acquaintance -in England, and with whom he long continued to be intimate. Meanwhile -his mother formed the design of leaving to her children a perfect series -of large finished water-colour drawings, representing all the different -parts of Hurstmonceaux Castle, interior as well as exterior, before its -destruction. She never relaxed her labour and care till the whole were -finished, but the minute application, for so long a period, seriously -affected her health and produced disease of the optic nerve, which ended -in total blindness. She removed to Weimar, where the friendship of the -Grand Duchess and the society of Goethe, Schiller, and the other learned -men who formed the brilliantly intellectual circle of the little court -did all that was possible to mitigate her affliction. But her health -continued to fail, and her favourite son Francis was summoned to her -side, arriving in time to accompany her to Lausanne, where she expired, -full of faith, hope, and resignation, on Easter Sunday, 1806. - -After his wife's death, Mr. Hare-Naylor could never bear to return to -Hurstmonceaux, and sold the remnant of his ancestral estate for -£60,000, to the great sorrow of his children. They were almost more -distressed, however, by his second marriage to a Mrs. Mealey, a -left-handed connection of the Shipley family--the Mrs. Hare-Naylor of my -own childhood, who was less and less liked by her stepsons as years went -on. She became the mother of three children, Georgiana, Gustavus, and -Reginald--my half aunt and uncles. In 1815, Mr. Hare-Naylor died at -Tours, and was buried at Hurstmonceaux. - -The breaking up of their home, the loss of their beloved mother, and -still more their father's second marriage, made the four Hare brothers -turn henceforward for all that they sought of sympathy or affection to -their Shipley relations. The house of their mother's eldest sister, Lady -Jones, was henceforward the only home they knew. Little Anna Hare was -adopted by Lady Jones, and lived entirely with her till her early death -in 1813: Augustus was educated at her expense and passed his holidays at -her house of Worting, her care and anxiety for his welfare proving that -she considered him scarcely less her child than Anna; and Francis and -Julius looked up to her in everything, and consulted her on all points, -finding in her "a second mother, a monitress wise and loving, both in -encouragement and reproof."[3] While Augustus was pursuing his education -at Winchester and New College, and Marcus was acting as midshipman and -lieutenant in various ships on foreign service; and while Julius (who -already, during his residence with his mother at Weimar, had imbibed -that passion for Germany and German literature which characterised his -after life) was carrying off prizes at Tunbridge, the Charter House, and -Trinity College, Cambridge; Francis, after his mother's death, was -singularly left to his own devices. Mr. Hare-Naylor was too apathetic, -and his stepmother did not dare to interfere with him: Lady Jones was -bewildered by him. After leaving Aberdeen he studied vigorously, even -furiously, with a Mr. Michell at Buckland. From time to time he went -abroad, travelling where he pleased and seeing whom he pleased. At the -Universities of Leipsic and Göttingen the report which Lehmann gave of -his extraordinary abilities procured him an enthusiastic reception, and -he soon formed intimacies with the most distinguished professors of both -seats of learning. At the little court of Weimar he was adored. Yet the -vagaries of his character led him with equal ardour to seek the -friendship and share the follies of Count Calotkin, of whom he wrote as -"the Lord Chesterfield of the time, who had had more princesses in love -with him and perhaps more children on the throne than there are weeks in -the year." At twenty, he had not only all the knowledge, but more than -all the experiences, of most men of forty. Such training was not a good -preparation for his late entrance at an English University. The pupil of -Mezzofanti and Lehmann also went to Christ Church at Oxford knowing far -too much. He was so far ahead of his companions, and felt such a -profound contempt for the learning of Oxford compared with that to which -he had been accustomed at the Italian and German universities, that he -neglected the Oxford course of study altogether, and did little except -hunt whilst he was at college. In spite of this, he was so naturally -talented, that he could not help adding, in spite of himself, to his -vast store of information. Jackson, Dean of Christ Church in his time, -used to say that "Francis Hare was the only rolling stone he knew that -ever gathered any moss." That which he did gather was always made the -most of for his favourite brother Julius, for whose instruction he was -never weary of writing essays, and in whose progress he took the -greatest interest and delight. But through all the changes of life the -tie between each of the four brothers continued undiminished--"the most -brotherly of brothers," their common friend Landor always used to call -them. - -After leaving Oxford, my father lived principally at his rooms in the -Albany. Old Dr. Wellesley[4] used often to tell me stories of these -pleasant chambers (the end house in the court), and of the parties which -used to meet in them, including all that was most refined and -intellectual in the young life of London. For, in his conversational -powers, Francis Hare had the reputation of being perfectly unrivalled, -and it was thus, not in writing, that his vast amount of information on -all possible subjects became known to his contemporaries. In 1811, Lady -Jones writes of him "at Stowe" as "keeping all the talk to himself, -which does not please the old Marquis much." - -Francis Hare sold his father's fine library at Christie's soon after his -death, yet almost immediately began to form a new collection of books, -which soon surrounded all the walls of his Albany chambers. But his -half-sister Mrs. Maurice remembered going to visit him at the Albany, -and her surprise at not seeing his books. "Oh, Francis, what have you -done with your library?" she exclaimed. "Look under the sofa and you -will see it," he replied. She looked, and saw a pile of Sir William -Jones's works: he had again sold all the rest. And through life it was -always the same. He never could resist collecting valuable books, and -then either sold them, or had them packed up, left them behind, and -forgot all about them. Three of his collections of books have been sold -within my remembrance, one at Newbury in July 1858; one at Florence in -the spring of 1859; and one at Sotheby & Wilkinson's rooms in the -following November. - -Careful as to his personal appearance, Francis Hare was always dressed -in the height of the fashion. It is remembered how he would retire and -change his dress three times in the course of a single ball! In -everything he followed the foibles of the day. "Francis leads a rambling -life of pleasure and idleness," wrote his cousin Anna Maria Dashwood; -"he _must_ have read, but who can tell at what time?--for wherever there -is dissipation, there is Francis in its wake and its most ardent -pursuer. Yet, in spite of this, let _any_ subject be named in society, -and Francis will know more of it than nineteen out of twenty." - -In 1816-17, Francis Hare kept horses and resided much at Melton Mowbray, -losing an immense amount of money there. After this time he lived almost -entirely upon the Continent. Lord Desart, Lord Bristol and Count d'Orsay -were his constant companions and friends, so that it is not to be -wondered at that attractions of a less reputable kind enchained him to -Florence and Rome. He had, however, a really good friend in John -Nicholas Fazakerley, with whom his intimacy was never broken, and in -1814, whilst watching his dying father at Tours, he began a friendship -with Walter Savage Landor, with whom he ever afterwards kept up an -affectionate correspondence. Other friends of whom he saw much in the -next few years were Lady Oxford (then separated from her husband, and -living entirely abroad) and her four daughters. In the romantic -interference of Lady Oxford in behalf of Caroline Murat, queen of -Naples, and in the extraordinary adventures of her daughters, my father -took the deepest interest, and he was always ready to help or advise -them. On one occasion, when they arrived suddenly in Florence, he gave a -ball in their honour, the brilliancy of which I have heard described by -the older Florentine residents of my own time. Twice every week, even in -his bachelor days, he was accustomed to give large dinner-parties, and -he then first acquired that character for hospitality for which he was -afterwards famous at Rome and Pisa. Spa was one of the places which -attracted him most at this period of his life, and he frequently passed -part of the summer there. It was on one of these occasions (1816) that -he proceeded to Holland and visited Amsterdam. "I am delighted and -disgusted with this mercantile capital," he wrote to his brother -Augustus. "Magnificent establishments and penurious -economy--ostentatious generosity and niggardly suspicion--constitute the -centrifugal and centripetal focus of Holland's mechanism. The rage for -roots still continues. The gardener at the Hortus Medicus showed me an -Amaryllis (alas! it does not flower till October), for which King Lewis -paid one thousand guelders (a guelder is about 2 francs and 2 sous). -Here, in the sanctuary of Calvinism, organs are everywhere -introduced--though the more orthodox, or puerile, discipline of Scotland -has rejected their intrusion. But, in return, the sternness of -republican demeanour refuses the outward token of submission--even to -Almighty power: a Dutchman always remains in church with his hat unmoved -from his head." - -The year 1818 was chiefly passed by Francis Hare in Bavaria, where he -became very intimate with the King and Prince Eugene. The latter gave -him the miniature of himself which I still have at Holmhurst. For the -next seven years he was almost entirely in Italy--chiefly at Florence or -Pisa. Sometimes Lord Dudley was with him, often he lived for months in -the constant society of Count d'Orsay and Lady Blessington. He was fêted -and invited everywhere. "On disait de M. Hare," said one who knew him -intimately, "non seulement qu'il était original, mais qu'il était -original sans copie." "In these years at Florence," said the same -person, "there were many ladies who were aspirants for his hand, he was -_si aimable, pas dans le sens vulgaire, mais il avait tant -d'empressement pour tout le sexe feminin_." His aunts Lady Jones and her -sister Louisa Shipley constantly implored him to return to England and -settle there, but in vain: he was too much accustomed to a roving life. -Occasionally he wrote for Reviews, but I have never been able to trace -the articles. He had an immense correspondence, and his letters were -very amusing, when their recipients could read his almost impossible -hand. We find Count d'Orsay writing, apropos of a debt which he was -paying--"Employez cette somme à prendre un maître d'écriture: si vous -saviez quel service vous renderiez à vos amis!" - -The English family of which Francis Hare saw most at Florence was that -of Lady Paul, who had brought her four daughters to spend several years -in Italy, partly for the sake of completing their education, partly to -escape with dignity from the discords of a most uncongenial home. To the -close of her life Frances Eleanor, first wife of Sir John Dean Paul of -Rodborough, was one of those rare individuals who are never seen without -being loved, and who never fail to have a good influence over those with -whom they are thrown in contact. That she was as attractive as she was -good is still shown in a lovely portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence. Landor -adored her, and rejoiced to bring his friend Francis Hare into her -society. The daughters were clever, lively and animated; but the mother -was the great attraction to the house. - -[Illustration: GLAMIS CASTLE.] - -Defoe says that "people who boast of their ancestors are like potatoes, -in that their best part is in underground." Still I will explain that -Lady Paul was the daughter of John Simpson of Bradley in the county of -Durham, and his wife Lady Anne Lyon, second daughter of the 8th Earl of -Strathmore, who quartered the royal arms and claimed royal descent from -Robert II. king of Scotland, grandson of the famous Robert Bruce: the -king's youngest daughter Lady Jane Stuart having married Sir John Lyon, -first Baron Kinghorn, and the king's grand-daughter Elizabeth Graham -(through Euphemia Stuart, Countess of Strathern) having married his son -Sir John Lyon of Glamis. Eight barons and eight earls of Kinghorn and -Strathmore (which title was added 1677) lived in Glamis Castle before -Lady Anne was born. The family history had been of the most eventful -kind. The widow of John, 6th Lord Glamis, was burnt as a witch on the -Castle Hill at Edinburgh, for attempting to poison King James V., and -her second husband, Archibald Campbell, was dashed to pieces while -trying to escape down the rocks which form the foundation of the castle. -Her son, the 7th Lord Glamis, was spared, and restored to his honours -upon the confession of the accusers of the family that the whole story -was a forgery, after it had already cost the lives of two innocent -persons. John, 8th Lord Glamis, was killed in a Border fray with the -followers of the Earl of Crawford: John, 5th Earl, fell in rebellion at -the battle of Sheriffmuir: Charles, 6th Earl, was killed in a quarrel. -The haunted castle of Glamis itself, the most picturesque building in -Scotland, girdled with quaint pepper-box turrets, is full of the most -romantic interest. A winding stair in the thickness of the wall leads to -the principal apartments. The weird chamber is still shown in which, as -Shakspeare narrates, Duncan, king of Scotland, was murdered by Macbeth, -the "thane of Glamis." In the depth of the walls is another chamber more -ghastly still, with a secret, transmitted from the fourteenth century, -which is always known to three persons. When one of the triumvirate -dies, the survivors are compelled by a terrible oath to elect a -successor. Every succeeding Lady Strathmore, Fatima-like, has spent her -time in tapping at the walls, taking up the boards, and otherwise -attempting to discover the secret chamber, but all have failed. One -tradition of the place says that "Old Beardie"[5] sits for ever in that -chamber playing with dice and drinking punch at a stone table, and that -at midnight a second and terrible person joins him. - -More fearful than these traditions were the scenes through which Lady -Anne had lived and in which she herself bore a share. Nothing is more -extraordinary than the history of her eldest brother's widow, -Mary-Eleanor Bowes, 9th Countess of Strathmore, who, in her second -marriage with Mr. Stoney, underwent sufferings which have scarcely ever -been surpassed, and whose marvellous escapes and adventures are still -the subject of a hundred story-books. - -The vicissitudes of her eventful life, and her own charm and cleverness, -combined to make Lady Anne Simpson one of the most interesting women of -her age, and her society was eagerly sought and appreciated. Both her -daughters had married young, and in her solitude, she took the eldest -daughter of Lady Paul to live with her and brought her up as her own -child. In her house, Anne Paul saw all the most remarkable Englishmen of -the time. She was provided with the best masters, and in her home life -she had generally the companionship of the daughters of her mother's -sister Lady Liddell, afterwards Lady Ravensworth, infinitely preferring -their companionship to that of her own brothers and sisters. Lady Anne -Simpson resided chiefly at a house belonging to Colonel Jolliffe at -Merstham in Surrey, where the persons she wished to see could frequently -come down to her from London. The royal dukes, sons of George III., -constantly visited her in this way, and delighted in the society of the -pretty old lady, who had so much to tell, and who always told it in the -most interesting way. - -It was a severe trial for Anne Paul, when, in her twentieth year (1821), -she lost her grandmother, and had to return to her father's house. Not -only did the blank left by the affection she had received cause her -constant suffering, but the change from being mistress of a considerable -house and establishment to becoming an insignificant unit in a large -party of brothers and sisters was most disagreeable, and she felt it -bitterly. - -Very welcome therefore was the change when Lady Paul determined to go -abroad with her daughters, and the society of Florence, in which Anne -Paul's great musical talents made her a general favourite, was the more -delightful from being contrasted with the confinement of Sir John Paul's -house over his bank in the Strand. During her Italian travels also, Anne -Paul made three friends whose intimacy influenced all her after life. -These were our cousin, the clever widowed Anna Maria Dashwood, daughter -of Dean Shipley; Walter Savage Landor; and Francis Hare; and the two -first united in desiring the same thing--her marriage with the last. - -Meantime, two other marriages occupied the attention of the Paul family. -One of Lady Paul's objects in coming abroad had been the hope of -breaking through an attachment which her third daughter Maria had formed -for Charles Bankhead, an exceedingly handsome and fascinating, but -penniless young attaché, with whom she had fallen in love at first -sight, declaring that nothing should ever induce her to marry any one -else. Unfortunately, the first place to which Lady Paul took her -daughters was Geneva, and Mr. Bankhead, finding out where they were, -came thither (from Frankfort, where he was attaché) dressed in a long -cloak and with false hair and beard. In this disguise, he climbed up and -looked into a room where Maria Paul was writing, with her face towards -the window. She recognised him at once, but thought it was his double, -and fainted away. On her recovery, finding her family still inexorable, -she one day, when her mother and sisters were out, tried to make away -with herself. Her room faced the stairs, and as Prince Lardoria, an old -friend of the family, was coming up, she threw open the door and -exclaimed--"Je meurs, Prince, je meurs, je me suis empoisonné."--"Oh -Miladi, Miladi," screamed the Prince, but Miladi was not there, so he -rushed into the kitchen, and seizing a large bottle of oil, dashed -upstairs with it, and, throwing Maria Paul upon the ground, poured the -contents of it down her throat. After this, Lady Paul looked upon the -marriage as inevitable, and sent Maria to England to her aunt Lady -Ravensworth, from whose house she was married to Charles Bankhead, -neither her mother or sisters being present. Shortly afterwards Mr. -Bankhead was appointed minister in Mexico, and his wife, accompanying -him thither, remained there for many years, and had many extraordinary -adventures, especially during a great earthquake, in which she was saved -by her presence of mind in swinging upon a door, while "the cathedral -rocked like a wave on the sea" and the town was laid in ruins. - -While Maria Paul's marriage was pending, her youngest sister Jane had -also become engaged, without the will of her parents, to Edward, only -son of the attainted Lord Edward Fitz Gerald, son of the 1st Duke of -Leinster. His mother was the famous Pamela,[6] once the beautiful and -fascinating little fairy produced at eight years old by the Chevalier de -Grave as the companion of Mademoiselle d'Orleans; over whose birth a -mystery has always prevailed; whose name Madame de Genlis declared to be -Sims, but whom her royal companions called Seymour. To her daughter -Jane's engagement Lady Paul rather withheld than refused her consent, -and it was hoped that during their travels abroad the intimacy might be -broken off. It had begun by Jane Paul, in a ball-room, hearing a -peculiarly hearty and ringing laugh from a man she could not see, and in -her high spirits imprudently saying--"I will marry the man who can laugh -in that way and no one else,"--a remark which was repeated to Edward -Fitz Gerald, who insisted upon being immediately introduced. Jane Paul -was covered with confusion, but as she was exceedingly pretty, this only -added to her attractions, and the adventure led to a proposal, and -eventually, through the friendship and intercession of Francis Hare, to -a marriage.[7] - -Already, in 1826, we find Count d'Orsay writing to Francis Hare in -August--"Quel diable vous possede de rester à Florence, _sans Pauls_, -sans rien enfin, excepté un rhume imaginaire pour excuse?" But it was -not till the following year that Miss Paul began to believe he was -seriously paying court to her. They had long corresponded, and his -clever letters are most indescribably eccentric. They became more -eccentric still in 1828, when, before making a formal proposal, he -expended two sheets in proving to her how hateful the word _must_ always -had been and always would be to his nature. She evidently accepted this -exordium very amiably, for on receiving her answer, he sent his banker's -book to Sir John Paul, begging him to examine and see if, after all his -extravagancies, he still possessed at least "fifteen hundred a year, -clear of every possible deduction and charge, to spend withal, that is, -four pounds a day," and to consider, if the examination proved -satisfactory, that he begged to propose for the hand of his eldest -daughter! Equally strange was his announcement of his engagement to his -brother Augustus at Rome, casually observing, in the midst of -antiquarian queries about the temples--"Apropos of columns, I am going -to rest my old age on a column. Anne Paul and I are to be married on the -28th of April,"--and proceeding at once, as if he had said nothing -unusual--"Have you made acquaintance yet with my excellent friend Luigi -Vescovali," &c. At the same time Mrs. Dashwood wrote to Miss Paul that -Francis had "too much feeling and principle to marry without feeling -that he could make the woman who was sincerely attached to him happy," -and that "though he has a great many faults, still, when one considers -the sort of wild education he had, that he has been a sort of pet pupil -of the famous or infamous Lord Bristol, one feels very certain that he -must have a more than commonly large amount of original goodness (not -sin, though it is the fashion to say so much on that head) to save him -from having many more." - -It was just before the marriage that "Victoire" (often afterwards -mentioned in these volumes) came to live with Miss Paul. She had lost -her parents in childhood, and had been brought up by her grandmother, -who, while she was still very young, "pour assurer son avenir," sent her -to England to be with Madame Girardôt, who kept a famous shop for -ladies' dress in Albemarle Street. Three days after her arrival, Lady -Paul came there to ask Madame Girardôt to recommend a maid for her -daughter, who was going to be married, and Victoire was suggested, but -she begged to remain where she was for some weeks, as she felt so lonely -in a strange country, and did not like to leave the young Frenchwomen -with whom she was at work. During this time Miss Paul often came to see -her, and they became great friends. At last a day was fixed on which -Victoire was summoned to the house "seulement pour voir," and then she -first saw Lady Paul. Miss Paul insisted that when her mother asked -Victoire her age, she should say twenty-two at least, as Lady Paul -objected to her having any maid under twenty-eight. "Therefore," said -Victoire, "when Miladi asked 'Quelle age avez vous?' j'ai répondu -'Vingt-deux ans, mais je suis devenu toute rouge, oh comme je suis -devenu rouge'--et Miladi a répondu avec son doux sourire--'Ah vous -n'avez pas l'habitude des mensonges?'--Oh comme cà m'a tellement -frappé."[8] - -My father was married to Anne Frances Paul at the church in the Strand -on the 28th of April 1828. "Oh comme il y avait du monde!" said -Victoire, when she described the ceremony to me. A few days afterwards a -breakfast was given at the Star and Garter at Richmond, at which all the -relations on both sides were present, Maria Leycester, the future bride -of Augustus Hare, being also amongst the guests. - -Soon after, the newly-married pair left for Holland, where they began -the fine collection of old glass for which Mrs. Hare was afterwards -almost famous, and then to Dresden and Carlsbad. In the autumn they -returned to England, and took a London house--5 Gloucester Place, where -my sister Caroline was born in 1829. The house was chiefly furnished by -the contents of my father's old rooms at the Albany. - -"Victoire" has given many notes of my father's character at this time. -"M. Hare était sevère, mais il était juste. Il ne pouvait souffrir la -moindre injustice. Il pardonnait une fois--deux fois, et puis il ne -pardonnait plus, il faudrait s'en aller; il ne voudrait plus de celui -qui l'avait offensé. C'était ainsi avec François, son valet à Gloucester -Place, qui l'accompagnait partout et qui avait tout sous la main. Un -jour M. Hare me priait, avec cette intonation de courtoisie qu'il -avail, que je mettrais son linge dans les tiroirs. 'Mais, très -volontiers, monsieur,' j'ai dit. Il avait beaucoup des choses--des -chemises, des foulards, de tout. Eh bien! quelques jours après il me -dit--'Il me manque quelques foulards--deux foulards de cette espèce'--en -tirant une de sa poche, parcequ'il faisait attention à tout. 'Ah, -monsieur,' j'ai dit, 'c'est très probable, en sortant peut-être dans la -ville.' 'Non,' il me dit, 'ce n'est pas ça--je suis volé, et c'est -François qui les a pris, et ça n'est pas la première fois,' ainsi enfin -il faut que je le renvoie." It was not till long after that Victoire -found out that my father had known for years that François had been -robbing him, and yet had retained him in his service. He said that it -was always his plan to weigh the good qualities of any of his dependants -against their defects. If the defects outweighed the virtues, "il -faudrait les renvoyer de suite--si non, il faudrait les laisser aller." -When he was in his "colère" he never allowed his wife to come near -him--"il avait peur de lui faire aucun mal." - -The christening of Caroline was celebrated with great festivities, but -it was like a fairy story, in that the old aunt Louisa Shipley, who was -expected to make her nephew Francis her heir, then took an -offence--something about being godmother, which was never quite got -over. The poor little babe itself was very pretty and terribly -precocious, and before she was a year old she died of water on the -brain. Victoire, who doated upon her, held her in her arms for the last -four-and-twenty hours, and there she died. Mrs. Hare was very much -blamed for having neglected her child for society, yet, when she was -dead, says Victoire, "Madame Hare avait tellement chagrin, que Lady Paul -qui venait tous les jours, priait M. Hare de l'ammener tout de suite. -Nous sommes allés à Bruxelles, parceque là M. FitzGerald avait une -maison,--mais de là, nous sommes retournés bien vite en Angleterre à -cause de la grossesse de Madame Hare, parceque M. Hare ne voulut pas que -son fils soil né à l'étranger, parcequ'il disait, que, étant le -troisième, il perdrait ses droits de l'héritage.[9] C'est selon la loi -anglaise--et c'était vraiment temps, car, de suite en arrivant à -Londres, François naquit." - -The family finally left Gloucester Place and went abroad in consequence -of Lady Jones's death. After that they never had a settled home again. -When the household in London was broken up, Victoire was to have left. -She had long been engaged to be married to Félix Ackermann, who had -been a soldier, and was in receipt of a pension for his services in the -Moscow campaign. But, when it came to the parting, "Monsieur et Madame" -would not let her go, saying that they could not let her travel, until -they could find a family to send her with. "It was an excuse," said -Victoire, "for I waited two years, and the family was never found. Then -I had to _consigner_ all the things, then I could not leave Madame--and -so it went on for two years more, till, when the family were at Pisa, -Félix insisted that I should come to a decision. Then M. Hare sent for -Félix, who had been acting as a courier for some time, and begged him to -come to Florence to go with us as a courier to Baden. Félix arrived on -the _Jeudi Saint_. M. Hare came in soon after (it was in my little room) -and talked to him as if they were old friends. He brought a bottle of -champagne, and poured out glasses for us all, and _faisait clinquer les -verres_. On the Monday we all left for Milan, and there I was married to -Félix, and, after the season at Baden, Félix and I were to return to -Paris, but when the time came M. Hare would not let us." - -"Wherever," said Victoire, "M. Hare était en passage--soit à Florence, -soit à Rome, n'importe où, il faudrait toujours des diners, et des -fêtes, pour recevoir M. Hare, surtout dans les ambassades, pas seulement -dans l'ambassade d'Angleterre, mais dans celles de France, d'Allemagne, -etc. Et quand M. Hare ne voyageait plus, et qu'il était établi dans -quelque ville, il donnait à son tour des diners à lui." - -"Il s'occupait toujours à lire,--pas des romans, mais des anciens -livres, dans lesquelles il fouillait toujours. Quand nous voyageons, -c'était toujours pour visiter les bibliothèques, ça c'était la première -chose, et il emporta énormément des livres dans la voiture avec lui.... -Quand il y'avait une personne qui lui avait été recommandée, il fallait -toujours lui faire voir tout ce qu'il avait, soit à Rome, soit à -Bologne,--et comme il savait un peu de tout, son avis était demandé pour -la valeur des tableaux, et n'importe de quoi." - -On first going abroad, my father had taken his wife to make acquaintance -with his old friends Lady Blessington and Count d'Orsay, with whom they -afterwards had frequent meetings. Lady Blessington thus describes to -Landor her first impressions of Mrs. Hare:-- - - "_Paris, Feb. 1829._--Among the partial gleams of sunshine which - have illumined our winter, a fortnight's sojourn which Francis - Hare and his excellent wife made here, is remembered with most - pleasure. She is indeed a treasure--well-informed, clever, - sensible, well-mannered, kind, lady-like, and, above all, truly - feminine; the having chosen such a woman reflects credit and - distinction on our friend, and the community with her has had a - visible effect on him, as, without losing any of his gaiety, it has - become softened down to a more mellow tone, and he appears not only - a more happy man, but more deserving of happiness than before." - -My second brother, William Robert, was born September 20, 1831, at the -Bagni di Lucca, where the family was spending the summer. Mrs. Louisa -Shipley meanwhile never ceased to urge their return to England. - - "_Jan. 25, 1831._--I am glad to hear so good an account of my two - little great-nephews, but I should be still more glad to see them. - I do hope the next may be a girl. If Francis liked England for the - sake of being with old friends, he might live here very - comfortably, but if he _will_ live as those who can afford to make - a show, for one year of parade in England he must be a banished man - for many years. I wish he would be as 'domestic' at home as he is - abroad!" - -In the summer of 1832 all the family went to Baden-Baden, to meet Lady -Paul and her daughter Eleanor, Sir John, the FitzGeralds, and the -Bankheads. All the branches of Mrs. Hare's family lived in different -houses, but they met daily for dinner, and were very merry. Before the -autumn, my father returned to Italy, to the Villa Cittadella near Lucca, -which was taken for two months for Mrs. Hare's confinement, and there, -on the 9th of October, my sister was born. She received the names of -"Anne Frances Maria Louisa." "Do you mean your ?????????? daughter to -rival Venus in all her other qualities as well as in the multitude of -her names? or has your motive been rather to recommend her to a greater -number of patron saints?" wrote my uncle Julius on hearing of her birth. -Just before this, Mrs. Shelley (widow of the poet and one of her most -intimate friends) had written to Mrs. Hare:-- - - "Your accounts of your child (Francis) give me very great pleasure. - Dear little fellow, what an amusement and delight he must be to - you. You do indeed understand a Paradisaical life. Well do I - remember the dear Lucca baths, where we spent morning and evening - in riding about the country--the most prolific place in the world - for all manner of reptiles. Take care of yourself, dearest - friend.... Choose Naples for your winter residence. Naples, with - its climate, its scenery, its opera, its galleries, its natural - and ancient wonders, surpasses every other place in the world. Go - thither, and live on the Chiaja. Happy one, how I envy you. Percy - is in brilliant health and promises better and better. - - "Have you plenty of storms at dear beautiful Lucca? Almost every - day when I was there, vast white clouds peeped out from above the - hills--rising higher and higher till they overshadowed us, and - spent themselves in rain and tempest: the thunder, re-echoed again - and again by the hills, is indescribably terrific.... Love me, and - return to us--Ah! return to us! for it is all very stupid and - unamiable without you. For are not you-- - - 'That cordial drop Heaven in our cup had thrown, - To make the nauseous draught of life go down.'" - -After a pleasant winter at Naples, my father and his family went to pass -the summer of 1833 at Castellamare. "C'était à Castellamare" (says a -note by Madame Victoire) "que Madame Hare apprit la mort de Lady Paul. -Elle était sur le balcon, quand elle la lut dans le journal. J'étais -dans une partie de la maison très éloignée, mais j'ai entendu un cri si -fort, si aigu, que je suis arrivée de suite, et je trouvais Madame Hare -toute étendue sur le parquet. J'appellais--'Au secours, au secours,' et -Félix, qui était très fort, prenait Madame Hare dans ses bras, et -l'apportait à mettre sur son lit, et nous l'avons donné tant des choses, -mais elle n'est pas revenue, et elle restait pendant deux heures en cet -état. Quand M. Hare est entré, il pensait que c'était à cause de sa -grossesse. Il s'est agenouillé tout en pleurs à coté de son lit. Il -demandait si je lui avais donné des lettres. 'Mais, non, monsieur; je ne -l'ai pas donné qu'un journal.' On cherchait longtemps ce journal, -parcequ'elle l'avait laissé tomber du balcon, mais quand il était -trouvé, monsieur s'est aperçu tout de suite de ce qu'elle avait." The -death of Lady Paul was very sudden; her sister Lady Ravensworth first -heard of it when calling to inquire at the door in the Strand in her -carriage. After expressing her sympathy in the loss of such a mother, -Mrs. Louisa Shipley at this time wrote to Mrs. Hare:-- - - "I will now venture to call your attention to the blessings you - possess in your husband and children, and more particularly to the - occupation of your thoughts in the education of the latter. They - are now at an age when it depends on a mother to lay the foundation - of principles which they will carry with them through life. The - responsibility is great, and if you feel it such, there cannot be a - better means of withdrawing your mind from unavailing sorrow, than - the hope of seeing them beloved and respected, and feeling that - your own watchfulness of their early years, has, by the blessing of - God, caused them to be so. Truth is the cornerstone of all virtues: - never let a child think it can deceive you; they are cunning - little creatures, and reason before they can speak; secure this, - and the chief part of your work is done, and so ends my sermon." - -It was in the summer of 1833, following upon her mother's death, that a -plan was first arranged by which my aunt Eleanor Paul became an inmate -of my father's household--the kind and excellent aunt whose devotion in -all times of trouble was afterwards such a blessing to her sister and -her children. Neither at first or ever afterwards was the residence of -Eleanor Paul any expense in her sister's household: quite the contrary, -as she had a handsome allowance from her father, and afterwards -inherited a considerable fortune from an aunt. - -In the autumn of 1833 my father rented the beautiful Villa Strozzi at -Rome, then standing in large gardens of its own facing the grounds of -the noble old Villa Negroni, which occupied the slope of the Viminal -Hill looking towards the Esquiline. Here on the 13th of March 1834 I was -born--the youngest child of the family, and a most unwelcome addition to -the population of this troublesome world, as both my father and Mrs. -Hare were greatly annoyed at the birth of another child, and beyond -measure disgusted that it was another son. - - - - -II - -CHILDHOOD - -1834-1843 - - "Sweete home, where meane estate - In safe assurance, without strife or hate, - Findes all things needfull for contentment meeke."--SPENSER. - - "Is there not in the bosoms of the wisest and best some of the - child's heart left to respond to its earliest enchantments?"--C. - LAMB. - - "I cannot paint to Memory's eye - The scene, the glance, I dearest love; - Unchanged themselves, in me they die, - Or faint, or false, their shadows prove."--KEBLE. - - "Ce sont là les séjours, les sites, les rivages, - Dont mon âme attendrie évoque les images, - Et dont, pendant les nuits, mes songes les plus beaux - Pour enchanter mes yeux composent leurs tableaux."--LAMARTINE. - - -Maria Leycester had been married to my uncle Augustus Hare in June 1829. -In their every thought and feeling they were united, and all early -associations had combined to fit them more entirely for each other's -companionship. A descendant of one of the oldest families in Cheshire, -Miss Leycester's childhood and youth had been spent almost entirely in -country rectories, but in such rectories as are rarely to be found, and -which prove that the utmost intellectual refinement and an interest in -all that is remarkable and beautiful in this world are not incompatible -with the highest aspirations after a Christian and a heavenly life. Her -father, Oswald Leycester, Rector of Stoke-upon-Terne in Shropshire, was -a finished scholar, had travelled much, and was the most agreeable of -companions. Her only sister, seven years older than herself, was married -when very young to Edward Stanley, Rector of Alderley, and afterwards -Bishop of Norwich, well known for the picturesqueness of his imaginative -powers, for his researches in Natural History, and for that sympathy -with all things bright and pleasant which preserved in him the spirit of -youth quite to the close of life. Her most intimate friend, and the -voluntary preceptor of her girlhood, had been the gifted Reginald Heber, -who, before his acceptance of the Bishopric of Calcutta, had lived as -Rector of Hodnet--the poet-rector--within two miles of her home. - -One of the happy circle which constantly met at Hodnet Rectory, she had -known Augustus Hare (first-cousin of Mrs. Heber, who was a daughter of -Dean Shipley) since she was eighteen. Later interests and their common -sorrow in Heber's death had thrown them closely together, and it would -scarcely have been possible for two persons to have proved each other's -characters more thoroughly than they had done, before the time of their -marriage, which was not till Maria Leycester was in her thirty-first -year. - -Four years of perfect happiness were permitted them--years spent almost -entirely in the quiet of their little rectory in the singularly small -parish of Alton Barnes amid the Wiltshire downs, where the inhabitants, -less than two hundred in number, living close at each other's doors, -around two or three small pastures, grew to regard Augustus Hare and his -wife with the affection of children for their parents. So close was the -tie which united them, that, when the rich family living of -Hurstmonceaux fell vacant on the death of our great-uncle Robert, -Augustus Hare could not bear to leave his little Alton, and implored my -father to persuade his brother Julius to give up his fellowship at -Trinity and to take it instead. - - "Having lived but little in the country, and his attention having - been engrossed by other subjects, Augustus Hare was, from education - and habits of life, unacquainted with the character and wants of - the poor. The poverty of their minds, their inability to follow a - train of reasoning, their prejudices and superstitions, were quite - unknown to him. All the usual hindrances to dealing with them, that - are commonly ascribed to a college life, were his in full force. - But his want of experience and knowledge touching the minds and - habits of the poor were overcome by the love he felt towards all - his fellow-creatures, and his sympathy in all their concerns. In - earlier days this Christ-like mind had manifested itself towards - his friends, towards servants, towards all with whom he was brought - in contact. It now taught him to talk to his poor parishioners and - enter into their interests with the feeling of a father and a - friend.... He had the power of throwing himself out of himself into - the interests and feelings of others; nor did he less draw out - their sympathies into his own, and make them sharers in his - pleasures and his concerns. It was not only the condescension of a - superior to those over whom he was placed, it was far more the - mutual interchange of feeling of one who loved to forget the - difference of station to which each was called, and to bring - forward the brotherly union as members of one family in Christ, - children of the same Heavenly Father, in which blessed equality all - distinctions are done away. Often would he ask their counsel in - matters of which he was ignorant, and call upon their sympathy in - his thankful rejoicing. His garden, his hayfield, his house, were - as it were thrown open to them, as he made them partakers of his - enjoyment, or sought for their assistance in his need.... The one - pattern ever before his eyes was his Lord and Master Jesus Christ; - the first question he asked himself, 'What would Jesus Christ have - me to do? What would He have done in my place?' - - "Perfect contentedness with what was appointed for him, and deep - thankfulness for all the good things given him, marked his whole - being. In deciding what should be done, or where he should go, or - how he should act, the question of how far it might suit his own - convenience, or be agreeable to his own feelings, was kept entirely - in the background till all other claims were satisfied. It was not - apparently at the dictate of duty and reason that these thoughts - were suppressed and made secondary: it seemed to be the first, the - natural feeling in him, to seek first the things of others and to - do the will of God, and to look at his own interest in the matter - as having comparatively nothing to do with it. And so great a dread - had he of being led to any selfish or interested views, that he - would find consolation in having no family to include in the - consideration--'Had I had children I might have fancied it an - excuse for worldly-mindedness and covetousness.' His children truly - were his fellow-men, those who were partakers of the same flesh and - blood, redeemed by the same Saviour, heirs of the same heavenly - inheritance. For them he was willing to spend and be spent, for - them he was _covetous_ of all the good that might be obtained.... - He was never weary in well-doing, never thought he had done enough, - never feared doing too much. Those small things, which by so many - are esteemed as unnecessary, as _not worth while_, these were the - very things he took care not to leave undone. It was not rendering - a service when it came _in_ his way, when it occurred in the - natural course of things that he should do it; it was going _out_ - of the way to help others, taking every degree of trouble and - incurring personal inconvenience for the sake of doing good, of - giving pleasure even in slight things, that distinguished his - benevolent activity from the common form of it. The love that dwelt - in him was ready to be poured forth on whomsoever needed it, and - being a free-will offering, it looked for no return, and felt no - obligation conferred." - -I have copied these fragments from the portrait which Augustus Hare's -widow drew of his ministerial life,[10] because they afford the best -clue to the way in which that life influenced hers, drawing her away -from earth and setting her affections in heavenly places. And yet, -though in one sense the life of Augustus Hare and his wife at Alton was -one of complete seclusion, in another sense there were few who lived -more for, or who had more real communion with, the scattered members of -their family. Mrs. Stanley and her children, with her brother Mr. -Penrhyn[11] and his wife, were sharers by letter in every trifling -incident which affected their sister's life; and with his favourite -brother Julius, Augustus Hare never slackened his intellectual -intercourse and companionship. But even more than these was Lucy Anne -Stanley,[12] the life-long friend of Maria Hare, till, in the summer of -1833, the tie of sisterhood, which had always existed in feeling, became -a reality, through her marriage with Marcus Hare, the youngest of the -four brothers. - -A chill which Augustus Hare caught when he was in Cheshire for his -brother's marriage, was the first cause of his fatal illness. It was -soon after considered necessary that he should spend the winter abroad -with his wife, and it was decided that they should accompany Marcus and -Lucy Hare to Rome. At Genoa the illness of Augustus became alarming, but -he reached Rome, and there he expired on the 14th of February 1834, full -of faith and hope, and comforting those who surrounded him to the last. - -My father felt his brother's loss deeply. They had little in common on -many points, yet the close tie of brotherhood, which had existed -between them from early days at Bologna, was such as no difference of -opinion could alter, no time or absence weaken. When Augustus was laid -to rest at the foot of the pyramid of Caius Cestius, my father's most -earnest wish was to comfort his widowed sister-in-law, and in the hope -of arousing an interest which might still give some semblance of an -earthly tie to one who seemed then upon the very borderland of heaven, -he entreated, when I was born in the following month, that she would -become my godmother, promising that she should be permitted to influence -my future in any way she pleased, and wishing that I should be called -Augustus after him she had lost. - -I was baptized on the 1st of April in the Villa Strozzi, by Mr. Burgess. -The widow of Augustus held me in her arms, and I received the names of -"Augustus John Cuthbert," the two last from my godfathers (the old Sir -John Paul and Mr. Cuthbert Ellison), who never did anything for me, the -first from my godmother, to whom I owe everything in the world. - -[Illustration: Augustus J. C. Hare. - -And his nurse Lucia Cecinelli.] - -Soon afterwards, my godmother returned to England, with her faithful -maid Mary Lea, accompanied by the Marcus Hares. She had already decided -to fix her future home in the parish of Julius, who, more than any -other, was a fellow-mourner with her. As regarded me, nothing more -than the tie of a godmother had to that time been thought of; but in the -quiet hours of her long return journey to England, while sadly looking -forward to the solitary future before her, it occurred to Augustus -Hare's widow as just possible that my parents might be induced to give -me up to her altogether, to live with her as her own child. In July she -wrote her petition, and was almost surprised at the glad acceptance it -met with. Mrs. Hare's answer was very brief--"My dear Maria, how very -kind of you! Yes, certainly, the baby shall be sent as soon as it is -weaned; and, if any one else would like one, would you kindly recollect -that we have others." - -Yet my adopting mother had stipulated that I was to be altogether hers; -that my own relations were henceforward to have no claim over me -whatever; that her parents were to be regarded as my grandparents, her -brother and sister as my uncle and aunt. - -Meantime my father took his family for the hot summer months to one of -the lovely villas on the high spurs of volcanic hill, which surround -picturesque romantic Siena. They had none of the English society to -which they had been accustomed at Lucca Baths and at Castellamare, but -the Siennese are celebrated for their hospitality, and my father's -talents, famous then throughout Italy, ensured him a cordial welcome -amongst the really cultivated circle which met every evening in the old -mediæval palaces of the native nobility. Of English, they had the -society of Mr. and Mrs. Bulwer, who were introduced by Landor, while -constant intercourse with Landor himself was one of the chief pleasures -which the family enjoyed during this and many succeeding years. With -Francis Hare he laid the plan of many of his writings, and in his -judgment and criticism he had the greatest confidence. To this he -alludes in his little poem of "Sermonis Propriora:"-- - - "Little do they who glibly talk of vrese - Know what they talk about, and what is worse, - Think they are judges if they dare to pass - Sentence on higher heads. - - The mule and ass - Know who have made them what they are, and heed - Far from the neighing of the generous steed. - Gell, Drummond, Hare, and wise and witty Ward - Knew at first sight and sound the genuine bard, - But the street hackneys, fed on nosebag bran, - Assail the poet, and defame the man." - -After another winter at Rome, the family went to Lausanne, and thence -my father, with my beautiful Albanese nurse, Lucia Cecinelli, took me to -meet Mrs. Gayford, the English nurse sent out to fetch me by my adopted -mother from Mannheim on the Rhine. There the formal exchange took place -which gave me a happy and loving home. I saw my father afterwards, but -he seldom noticed me. Many years afterwards I knew Mrs. Hare well and -had much to do with her; but I have never at any time spoken to her or -of her as a "mother," and I have never in any way regarded her as such. -She gave me up wholly and entirely. She renounced every claim upon me, -either of affection or interest. I was sent over to England with a -little green carpet-bag containing two little white night-shirts and a -red coral necklace--my whole trousseau and patrimony. At the same time -it was indicated that if the Marcus Hares should also wish to adopt a -child, my parents had another to dispose of: my second brother William -had never at any time any share in their affections. - -On reaching England I was sent first to my cousin the Dowager Countess -of Strathmore, and from her house was taken (in the coach) by Mrs. -Gayford to my mother--my real only mother from henceforth--at -Hurstmonceaux Rectory, which at that time was as much a palace of art, -from its fine collection of pictures and books, as a country rectory -could be. - -My adopted mother always used to say that the story of Hannah reminded -her of the way in which I was given to her. She believed it was in -answer to a prayer of my uncle Augustus in the cathedral at Chalons, -when he dropped some money into a box "pour les femmes enceintes," -because he knew how much she wished to have a child. His eldest -brother's wife was then _enceinte_, and I was born soon afterwards. - -[Illustration: HURSTMONCEAUX RECTORY.] - - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "On Tuesday, August 26, 1835, my little Augustus came to me. It was - about four o'clock when I heard a cry from upstairs and ran up. - There was the dear child seated on Mary's (Mary Lea's) knee, - without a frock. He smiled most sweetly and with a peculiar - archness of expression as I went up to him, and there was no - shyness. When dressed, I brought him down into the drawing-room: he - looked with great delight at the pictures, the busts, and - especially the bronze wolf--pointed at them, then looked round at - Jule and me. When set down, he strutted along the passage, went - into every room, surveyed all things in it with an air of - admiration and importance, and nothing seemed to escape - observation. The novelty of all around and the amusement he found - at first seemed to make him forget our being strangers. The next - day he was a little less at home. His features are much formed and - an uncommon intelligence of countenance gives him an older look - than his age: his dark eyes and eyelashes, well-formed nose and - expressive mouth make his face a very pretty one; but he has at - present but little hair and that very straight and light. His limbs - are small and he is very thin and light, but holds himself very - erect. He can run about very readily, and within a week after - coming could get upstairs by himself. In talking, he seems to be - backward, and except a few words and noises of animals, nothing is - intelligible. Number seems to be a great charm to him--a great many - apples, and acorns to be put in and out of a basket. He has great - delight in flowers, but is good in only smelling at those in the - garden, gathers all he can pick up in the fields, and generally has - his hands full of sticks or weeds when he is out. He wants to be - taught obedience, and if his way is thwarted or he cannot - immediately have what he wants, he goes into a violent fit of - passion. Sometimes it is soon over and he laughs again directly, - but if it goes on he will roll and scream on the floor for - half-an-hour together. In these cases we leave him without - speaking, as everything adds to the irritation, and he must find - out it is useless. But if by _prevention_ such a fit may be avoided - it is better, and Mary Lea is very ingenious in her preventing." - - - "_Oct. 3._--Augustus improves in obedience already. His great - delight is in throwing his playthings into a jug or tub of water. - Having been told not to do so in my room, he will walk round the - tub when full, look at Mary, then at me, and then at the tub with a - most comical expression, but if called away before too long will - resist the temptation. He is very impatient, but sooner quiet than - at first: and a tear in one eye and a smile in the other is usually - to be seen. His great delight lately has been picking up mushrooms - in the fields and filling his basket." - -It was in October that my mother moved from the Rectory to Lime--our -own dear home for the next five-and-twenty years. Those who visit -Hurstmonceaux now can hardly imagine Lime as it then was, all is so -changed. The old white gabled house, with clustered chimneys and roofs -rich in colour, rose in a brilliant flower-garden sheltered on every -side by trees, and separated in each direction by several fields from -the highroad or the lanes. On the side towards the Rectory, a drive -between close walls of laurel led to the old-fashioned porch which -opened into a small low double hall. The double drawing-room and the -dining-room, admirably proportioned, though small, looked across the -lawn, and one of the great glistening pools which belonged to an old -monastery (once on the site of the house), and which lay at the foot of -a very steep bank carpeted with primroses in spring. Beyond the pool was -our high field, over which the stumpy spire of the church could be seen, -at about a mile and a half distant, cutting the silver line of the sea. -The castle was in a hollow farther still and not visible. On the right -of the lawn a grass walk behind a shrubbery looked out upon the wide -expanse of Pevensey Level with its ever-varying lights and shadows, and -was sheltered by the immensely tall abele trees, known as "the Five -Sisters of Lime," which tossed their weird arms, gleaming silver-white, -far into the sky, and were a feature in all distant views of -Hurstmonceaux. On the left were the offices, and a sort of enclosed -court, where the dogs and cats used to play and some silver pheasants -were kept, and where my dear nurse Mary Lea used to receive the endless -poor applicants for charity and help, bringing in their many complaints -to my mother with inimitable patience, though they were too exclusively -self-contained to be ever the least grateful to her, always regarding -and speaking of her and John Gidman, the butler, as "furriners, folk -from the shires." - -[Illustration: LIME.] - -No description can give an idea of the complete seclusion of the life at -Lime, of the silence which was only broken by the cackling of the -poultry or the distant threshing in the barn, for the flail, as well as -the sickle and scythe, were then in constant use at Hurstmonceaux, where -oxen--for all agricultural purposes--occupied the position which horses -hold now. No sound from the "world," in its usually accepted sense, -would ever have penetrated, if it had not been for the variety of -literary guests who frequented the Rectory, and one or other of whom -constantly accompanied my uncle Julius when he came down, as he did -every day of his life, to his sister-in-law's quiet six-o'clock dinner, -returning at about eight. Of guests in our house itself there were very -few, and always the same--the Norwich Stanleys; Miss Clinton, a dear -friend of my mother; after a time the Maurices, and Mr. and Mrs. -Pile--an Alton farmer of the better class, and his excellent wife: but -there was never any variety. Yet in my boyhood I never thought it dull, -and loved Lime with passionate devotion. Even in earliest childhood my -dearest mother treated me completely as her companion, creating -interests and amusements for me in all the natural things around, and -making me so far a sharer in her own spiritual thoughts, that I have -always felt a peculiar truthfulness in Wordsworth's line-- - - "Heaven lies about us in our infancy." - -If my mother was occupied, there was always my dear "Lea" at hand, with -plenty of farmhouse interests to supply, and endless homely stories of -country life. - - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, Oct. 23, 1835._--My little Augustus was much astonished by - the change of house, and clung to me at first as if afraid of - moving away. The first evening he kissed me over and over again, as - if to comfort and assure me of his affection." - - "_Nov. 21._--Augustus has grown much more obedient, and is ready to - give his food or playthings to others. Some time ago he was much - delighted with the sight of the moon, and called out 'moon, moon,' - quite as if he could not help it. Next day he ran to the window to - look for it, and has ever since talked of it repeatedly. At - Brighton he called the lamps in the streets 'moon,' and the - reflection of the candles or fire on the window he does the same. - He is always merriest and most amiable when without playthings: his - mind is then free to act for itself and finds its own amusement; - and in proportion as his playthings are artificial and leave him - nothing to do, he quarrels or gets tired of them. He takes great - notice of anything of art--the flowers on the china and plates, and - all kinds of pictures." - - - "_Stoke Rectory, Jan. 7, 1836._--During our stay with the Penrhyns - at Sheen, Baby was so much amused by the variety of persons and - things to attract attention, that he grew very impatient and - fretful if contradicted. Since we have been at Stoke he has been - much more gentle and obedient, scarcely ever cries and amuses - himself on the floor. He is greatly amused by his Grandpapa's - playful motions and comical faces, and tries to imitate them. When - the school children are singing below, he puts up his forefinger - when listening and begins singing with his little voice, which is - very sweet. He will sit on the bed and talk in his own way for a - long time, telling about what he has seen if he has been out: his - little mind seems to be working without any visible thing before - it, on what is absent." - - - "_Alderley, March 13._--My dear boy's birthday, two years old. He - has soon become acquainted with his Alderley relations,[13] and - learnt to call them by name. He has grown very fond of 'Aunt - Titty,' and the instant she goes to her room follows her and asks - for the brush to brush the rocking-horse and corn to feed it. His - fits of passion are as violent, but not so long in duration, as - ever. When he was roaring and kicking with all his might and I - could scarcely hold him, I said--'It makes Mama very sorry to see - Baby so naughty.' He instantly stopped, threw his arms round my - neck, and sobbed out--'Baby lub Mama--good.' When I have once had a - struggle with him to do a thing, he always recollects, and does it - next time." - - - "_Lime, June 13._--On the journey from Stoke to London, Baby was - very much delighted with the primroses in the hedgerows, and his - delight in the fields when we got home was excessive. He knows the - name of every flower both in garden and field, and never forgets - any he has once seen.... When he sees me hold my hand to my head, - he says, 'Mama tired--head bad--Baby play self.'" - - - "_July 9._--Baby can now find his way all over the house, goes up - and down stairs alone and about the lawn and garden quite - independently, and enjoys the liberty of going in and out of the - windows: runs after butterflies or to catch his own shadow: picks - up flowers or leaves, and is the picture of enjoyment and - happiness. Tumbling out of the window yesterday, when the fright - was over, he looked up--'Down comes Baby and cradle and all.' He - tells the kitten 'not touch this or that,' and me 'not make noise, - Pussy's head bad.'" - - - "_Sept. 28._--The sea-bathing at Eastbourne always frightened Baby - before he went in. He would cling to Mary and be very nervous till - the women had dipped him, and then, in the midst of his sobs from - the shock, would sing 'Little Bo Peep,' to their great amusement. - He was very happy throwing stones in the water and picking up - shells; but above all he enjoyed himself on Beachy Head, the fresh - air and turf seemed to exhilarate him as much as any one, and the - picking purple thistles and other down flowers was a great - delight.... His pleasure in returning home and seeing the flowers - he had left was very great. He talks of them as if they were his - playmates, realising Keble's--'In childhood's sports, _companions_ - gay.'" - - - "_Oct. 17._--After dinner to-day, on being told to thank God for - his good dinner, he would not do it, though usually he does it the - first thing on having finished. I would not let him get out of his - chair, which enraged him, and he burst into a violent passion. - Twice, when this abated, I went to him and tried, partly by - encouragement, partly by positively insisting on it, to bring him - to obedience. Each time I took him up from the floor, he writhed on - the floor again with passion, screaming as loud as he could. After - a while, when I had left him and gone into the drawing-room, he - came along the walk and went back again two or three times as if - not having courage to come in, then at last came and hid his face - in my lap. I carried him back to the dining-room and put him in his - chair and talked to him about his dinner, did not he love God for - giving him so many good things, and I knelt by him and prayed God - to forgive him for being so naughty and to take away the naughty - spirit. All the time he was struggling within himself, - half-sobbing, half-smiling with effort--'I can't say it'--and then, - after a time, 'Mama thanks God for Baby's good dinner.' 'No,' I - said, 'Baby must do it for himself.' Still he resisted. At length - on getting down from the chair he said, 'Kneel down under - table'--and there at last he said, 'Thank God for Baby's good - dinner,' and in a minute all the clouds were gone and sunshine - returned to his face. The whole struggle lasted I suppose - half-an-hour. In a few minutes after he was calling me 'Mama dear' - and as merry as ever." - - - "_Stoke Rectory, Nov. 26._--Baby asks 'Who made the dirt? Jesus - Christ?' It is evident that he has not the slightest notion of any - difference between the nature of God and any man, or between Heaven - and London or any name of a place. Perhaps in this simplicity and - literality of belief he comes nearer the truth than we in the - sophistications and subtilties of our reasonings on such things: - but the great difficulty is to impress awe and reverence for a holy - and powerful Being, and to give the dread and serious sense of - being under His eye, without a slavish fear and distance. - - "He always asks when he sees my Bible--'Mama reading about Adam and - Eve and Jesus Christ?'--a union of the two grand subjects, very - unconsciously coming to the truth." - - - "_Jan. 16, 1837._--Time is as yet a very indistinct impression on - Baby's mind. Going round the field, he gathered some buttercups. I - said, 'Leave the rest till to-morrow.' When we returned the same - way, he asked, 'Is it to-morrow now?' ... After a violent passion - the other day he looked up--'Will Jesus Christ be shocked?' He - comes often and says--'Will 'ou pray God to make little Augustus - good?' and asks to 'pray with Mama.' - - "The other day he said--'My eyes are pretty.' 'Oh yes,' I said, - 'they are, and so are Mama's and Na's.'--'And Grandpapa's and - Grannie's too?'--'Yes, they are all pretty, nothing so pretty as - eyes.' And I have heard no more of it. - - "'Look, Mama,' he says, 'there is a bird flying up to God.'--'Where - have you been to, Baby?'--'To a great many wheres.' He visits all - the flowers in Grannie's garden, quite as anxiously as if they were - living beings, and that quite without any hope of possessing them, - as he is never allowed to gather any. He puts the different flowers - together--and invents names for them--Hep--poly--primrose, &c. He - also talks to animals and flowers as if they were conscious, and in - this way creates constant amusement for himself: but the illusion - is so strong he hardly seems to separate it from fact, and it - becomes increasingly necessary to guard against the confusion of - truth and error." - -Children are said seldom to remember things which happen when they are -three years old; but I have a distinct recollection of being at my -mother's early home of Toft in Cheshire during this spring of 1837, and -of the charm, of which children are so conscious, of the Mrs. Leycester -("Toft Grannie"--my mother's first cousin) who lived there. I also -recollect the great dog at Alderley, and being whipped by "Uncle Ned" -(Edward Stanley) at the gate of the Dutch garden for breaking off a -branch of mezereon when I was told not to touch it. Indeed I am not sure -whether these recollections are not of a year before, in which I -distinctly remember a terrible storm at Lime, when Kate Stanley was with -us, seeing a great acacia-tree torn up by the roots and hurled against -the drawing-room window, smashing all before it, and the general panic -and flight that ensued. Otherwise my earliest impressions of -Hurstmonceaux are all of the primroses on the Lime bank--the sheets of -golden stars everywhere, and the tufts of pure white primroses which -grew in one particular spot, where the bank was broken away under an old -apple-tree. Then of my intense delight in being taken in a punt to the -three islets on the pond--Mimulus Island, Tiny and Wee; and of the -excessive severity of Uncle Julius, who had the very sharpest possible -way of speaking to children, even when he meant to be kind to them. -Every evening, like clockwork, he appeared at six to dine with my -mother, and walked home after coffee at eight. How many of their -conversations, which I was supposed neither to hear or understand, have -come back to me since like echoes: strange things for a child to -remember--about the Fathers, and Tract XC., and a great deal about hymns -and hymn-tunes--"Martyrdom," "Irish," "Abridge," &c.; for an organ was -now put into the church, in place of the band, in which the violin never -could keep time with the other instruments. Sir George Dasent has told -me how he was at Hurstmonceaux then, staying with the Simpkinsons. -Arthur Stanley was at the Rectory as a pupil, and he asked Arthur how he -liked this new organ. "Well," he said, "it is not so bad as most organs, -for it does not make so much sound." Uncle Julius preached about it, -altering a text into "What went ye out for to hear." - -A child who lives much with its elders is almost certain to find out -what it is most intended to conceal from it. If possible it had better -be confided in. I knew exactly what whispers referred to a certain dark -passage in the history of the Rectory before Uncle Julius's time--"il y -avait un crime"--and I never rested till I found it out. It was about -this time that I remember Uncle Julius going into one of his violently -demonstrative furies over what he considered the folly of "Montgomery's -Poems," and his flinging the book to the other end of the room in his -rage with it, and my wondering what would be done to me if I ever dared -to be "as naughty as Uncle Jule." - - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, June 20, 1837._--Augustus was very ill in coming through - London.... Seeing Punch one day from the window, he was greatly - amused by it, and laughed heartily. Next day I told him I had seen - Punch and Judy again. 'No, Mama, you can't have seen Judy, for she - was killed yesterday.' On getting home he was much pleased, and - remembered every place perfectly. Great is his delight over every - new flower as it comes out, and his face was crimsoned over as he - called to me to see 'little Cistus come out.' At night, in his - prayers he said--'Bless daisies, bluebells,' &c.... I have found - speaking of the power exercised by Jesus Christ in calming the wind - a means of leading him to view Christ as God, which I felt the want - of in telling him of Christ's childhood and human - kindness,--showing how miraculous demonstration is adapted to - childhood." - -I have a vivid recollection of my long illness in Park Street, and of -the miserable confinement in London. It was just at that time that my -Uncle Edward Stanley was offered the Bishopric of Norwich. His family -were all "in a terrible taking," as they used to call that sort of -emotion, as to whether it should be accepted or not, and when the matter -was settled they were almost worse--not my aunt, nothing ever agitated -her, but the rest of them. Mary and Kate came, with floods of tears, to -tell my mother they were to leave Alderley. My Uncle Penrhyn met Mary -Stanley coming down our staircase, quite convulsed with weeping, and -thought that I was dead. - -When I was better, in the spring, we went to my Uncle Penrhyn's at East -Sheen. One day I went into Mortlake with my nurse Mary Lea. In -returning, a somewhat shabby carriage passed us, with one or two -outriders, and an old gentleman inside. When we reached the house, Lea -asked old Mills, the butler, who it was. "Only 'Silly Billy,'" he said. -It was King William IV., who died in the following June. He had -succeeded to the sobriquet which had been applied to his cousin and -brother-in-law, William Henry, Duke of Gloucester, who died in 1834. - -John Sterling had been living at Hurstmonceaux for several years as my -uncle's curate, and was constantly at Lime or the Rectory. I vividly -recollect how pleasant (and handsome) he was. My mother used to talk to -him for hours together and he was very fond of her. With Mrs. Sterling -lived her sister Annie Barton, whom I remember as a very sweet and -winning person. During this summer, Frederick Maurice, a Cambridge pupil -of my uncle's, came to visit him, and confessed his attachment to her. -There were many obstacles to their marriage, of which I am ignorant; but -my mother was always in favour of it, and did much to bring it about. I -recollect Annie Barton as often sitting on a stool at my mother's feet. - -On our way to Stoke in the preceding autumn, we had diverged to visit -Frederick Maurice at his tiny curacy of Bubnell near Leamington. With -him lived his sister Priscilla, for whom my mother formed a great -friendship, which, beginning chiefly on religious grounds, was often a -great trial to her, as Priscilla Maurice, with many fine qualities and -great cleverness, was one of the most exacting persons I have ever -known. I am conscious of course now of what fretted me unconsciously -then, the entire difference of class, and consequent difference in the -measurement of people and things, between the Maurices and those my -mother had been accustomed to associate with, and of their injurious -effect upon my mother herself, in inducing her to adopt their peculiar -phraseology, especially with regard to religious things. They persuaded -her to join in their tireless search after the motes in their brother's -eyes, and urged a more intensified life of contemplative rather than -active piety, which abstracted her more than ever from earthly -interests, and really marred for a time her influence and usefulness. -The Maurice sisters were the first of the many so-called "religious" -people I have known, who did not seem to realise that Christianity is -rather action than thought; not a system, but a life. - -It must have been soon after this that Frederick Maurice moved to -London, and our visits to London were henceforth for several years -generally paid to his stuffy chaplain's house at Guy's, where, as I -could not then appreciate my host, I was always intensely miserable, -and, though a truly good man, Frederick Maurice was not, as I thought, -an attractive one. What books have since called "the noble and pathetic -monotone"[14] of his life, which was "like the burden of a Gregorian -chaunt," describes him exactly, but was extremely depressing. He -maundered over his own humility in a way which--even to a child--did not -seem humble, and he was constantly lost mentally in the labyrinth of -religious mysticisms which he was ever creating for himself. In all he -said, as in all he wrote, there was a nebulous vagueness. "I sometimes -fancy," "I almost incline to believe," "I seem to think," were the -phrases most frequently on his lips. When he preached before the -University of Cambridge to a church crowded with dons and -undergraduates, they asked one another as they came out, "What was it -all about?" He may have sown ideas, but, if they bore any fruits, other -people reaped them.[15] Still his innate goodness brought him great -devotion from his friends. Amongst those whom I recollect constantly -seeing at Guy's, a man in whose society my mother found much pleasure, -was John Alexander Scott, whom Mrs. Kemble describes as being mentally -one of the most influential persons she had ever known. - -Priscilla Maurice henceforward generally came to Lime soon after our -annual return from Shropshire, and usually spent several months there, -arriving armed with plans for the "reformation of the parish," and a -number of blank books, some ruled in columns for parochial visitation, -and others in which the names of all communicants were entered and -preserved, so as to make the reprobation of absentees more easy at -Hurstmonceaux. - -As she established her footing, she frequently brought one of her many -sisters with her: amongst them Esther Maurice, who at that time kept a -ladies' school at Reading. Priscilla, I believe, afterwards regretted -the introduction of Esther, who was much more attractive than herself, -and in course of time entirely displaced her in my mother's affections. -"Priscilla is like silver, but Esther is like gold," I remember my -mother saying to Uncle Julius. Of the two, I personally preferred -Priscilla, but both were a fearful scourge to my childhood, and so -completely poisoned my life at Hurstmonceaux, that I looked to the -winters spent at Stoke for everything that was not aggressively -unpleasant. - -Little child as I was, my feeling about the Maurices was a great bond -between me and my aunt Lucy Hare, who, I am now certain, most cordially -shared my opinion at this time, though it was unexpressed by either. -Otherwise my Aunt Lucy was also already a frequent trial to my -child-life, as she was jealous for her little Marcus (born in 1836) of -any attention shown to me or any kindness I received. I felt in those -early days, and on looking back from middle life I know that I felt -justly, that my mother would often pretend to care for me less than she -did, and punish me far more frequently for very slight offences, in -order not to offend Aunt Lucy, and this caused me many bitter moments, -and outbursts of passionate weeping, little understood at the time. In -very early childhood, however, one pleasurable idea was connected with -my Aunt Lucy. In her letters she would desire that "Baby" might be -allowed to gather three flowers in the garden, any three he liked: the -extreme felicity of which permission that Baby recollects still--and the -anxious questionings with himself as to which the flowers should be. - - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, July 24, 1837._--Augustus continually asks 'Why,' 'What is - the reason.' If it be in reference to something he has been told to - do, I never at the _time_ give him any other reason than simply - that it is my will that he should do it. If it refers to something - unconnected with practical obedience, it is right to satisfy his - desire of knowledge as far as he can understand. Implicit faith and - consequent obedience is the first duty to instil, and it behoves a - parent to take care that a child may find full satisfaction for its - instinctive moral sense of justice, in the consistency of conduct - observed towards him; in the sure performance of every promise; in - the firm but mild adherence to every command. - - "He asks, 'Is God blue?'--having heard that He lived above the - sky." - - - "_Stoke Rectory, Jan. 1, 1838._--On Christmas Day Augustus went to - church for the first time with me. He was perfectly good and kept a - chrysanthemum in his hand the whole time, keeping his eyes fixed on - it when sitting down. Afterwards he said, 'Grandpapa looked just - like Uncle Jule: he had his shirt (surplice) on.' - - "He has got on wonderfully in reading since I began to teach him - words instead of syllables, and also learns German very quickly. - - "Having been much indulged by Mrs. Feilden (Mrs. Leycester's - sister), he has become lately what Mary (Lea) calls rather - 'independent.' He is, however, easily knocked out of this - self-importance by a little forbearance on my part not to indulge - or amuse him, or allow him to have anything till he asks - rightly.... There is a strong spirit of expecting to know the - reason of a thing before he will obey or believe. This I am anxious - to guard against, and often am reminded in dealing with him how - analogous it is to God's dealing with us--'What thou knowest not - now, thou shalt know hereafter.' Now he is to walk by faith, not by - sight, not by _reason_." - - "_Lime, May 14, 1838._--Yesterday being Good Friday, I read to - Augustus all he could understand about the Crucifixion. He was a - little naughty, and I told him of it afterwards. 'But I was good - all yesterday, won't that goodness do?' His delight over the - flowers is as excessive as ever, but it is very necessary to guard - against greediness in this." - - "_August 10._--Being told that he was never alone, God and Jesus - Christ saw him, he said, 'God sees me, but Jesus Christ does - not.'--'But they are both one.'--'Then how did John the Baptist - pour water on His head, and how could He be crucified?' How - difficult to a child's simple faith is the union of the two - natures![16] - - "Two days ago at prayers he asked what I read to the servants, and - being told the meaning of the Lord's Prayer, he said, 'I know what - "Amen" means. It means, "It is done."' - - "_June 11._--Having knocked off a flower on a plant in the nursery, - Lea asked how he could have done such a thing--'What tempted you to - do such a thing?' He whispered--'I suppose it was Satan.' - - "Yesterday he told us his dream, that a beast had come out of a - wood and eat him and Lea up; and Susan came to look for them and - could not find them; then Mama prayed to God to open the beast's - mouth, and He opened it, and they both came out safe. - - "One night, after being over-tired and excited by the Sterlings, he - went to bed very naughty and screamed himself asleep. Next morning - he woke crying, and being asked why he did so, sobbed out, 'Lea put - me in bed and I could not finish last night: so I was obliged to - finish this morning.' - - "Going up to London he saw the Thames. 'It can't be a river, it - must be a pond, it is so large.' He called the sun in the midst of - the London fog 'a swimming sun:' asked if the soldiers in the Park - were 'looking out for the enemy.' 'Does God look through the - keyhole?' - - "Two days ago, having been told to ask God to take away the - naughtiness out of him, he said, "May I ask Jesus Christ to take - away the naughtiness out of Satan? then (colouring he said it, and - whispering) perhaps He will take him out of hell.' - - "On my birthday he told Lea at night, 'They all drank her health - but Uncle Jule, and he loved her so much he could not say it.'" - -I was now four years old, and I have a vivid recollection of all that -happened from this time--often a clearer remembrance than of things -which occurred last year. From this time I never had any playthings, -they were all banished to the loft, and, as I had no companions, I never -recollect a game of any kind or ever having played at anything. There -was a little boy of my own age called Philip Hunnisett, son of a -respectable poor woman who lived close to our gate, and whom my mother -often visited. I remember always longing to play with him, and once -trying to do so in a hayfield, to Lea's supreme indignation, and my -being punished for it, and never trying again. My mother now took me -with her every day when she went to visit the cottages, in which she was -ever a welcome guest, for it was not the lady, it was the woman who was -dear to their inmates, and, when listening to their interminable -histories and complaints, no one entered more into George Herbert's -feeling that "it is some relief to a poor body to be heard with -patience." Forty years afterwards a poor woman in Hurstmonceaux was -recalling to me the sweetness of my mother's sympathy, and told the -whole story when she said, "Yes, many other people have tried to be kind -to us; but then, you know, Mrs. Hare _loved_ us." Truly it was as if-- - - "Christ had took in this piece of ground, - And made a garden there for those - Who want herbs for their wound."[17] - -Whilst my mother was in the cottages, I remained outside and played with -the flowers in the ditches. There were three places whither I was always -most anxious that she should go--to Mrs. Siggery, the potter's widow, -where I had the delight of seeing all the different kinds of pots, and -the wet clay of which they were made: to "old Dame Cornford of the -river," by which name a tiny stream called "the Five Bells" was -dignified: and to a poor woman at "Foul Mile," where there was a ruined -arch (the top of a drain, I believe!) which I thought most romantic. We -had scarcely any visitors ("callers"), for there were scarcely any -neighbours, but our old family home of Hurstmonceaux Place was let to -Mr. Wagner (brother of the well-known "Vicar of Brighton"), and his wife -was always very kind to me, and gave me two little china mice, to which -I was quite devoted. His daughters, Annie and Emily, were very clever, -and played beautifully on the pianoforte and harp. The eldest son, -George, whose Memoirs have since been written, was a pale ascetic youth, -with the character of a mediæval saint, who used to have long religious -conversations with my mother, and--being very really in earnest--was -much and justly beloved by her. He was afterwards a most devoted -clergyman, being one of those who really have a "vocation," and probably -accomplished more practical good in his brief life than any other five -hundred parish priests taken at random. Of him truly Chaucer might have -said-- - - "This noble sample to his sheep he gave, - That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught." - -From the earliest age I heartily detested Hurstmonceaux Rectory, because -it took me away from Lime, to which I was devoted, and brought me into -the presence of Uncle Julius, who frightened me out of my wits; but to -all rational and unprejudiced people the Rectory was at this time a very -delightful place. It is situated on a hill in a lonely situation two -miles from the church and castle, and more than a mile from any of the -five villages which were then included in the parish of Hurstmonceaux; -but it was surrounded by large gardens with fine trees, had a wide -distant view over levels and sea, and was in all respects externally -more like the house of a squire than a clergyman. Inside it was lined -with books from top to bottom: not only the living rooms, but the -passages and every available space in the bedrooms were walled with -bookcases from floor to ceiling, containing more than 14,000 works. -Most of these were German, but there were many very beautiful books upon -art in all languages, and many which, even as a child, I thought it very -delightful to look at. The only spaces not filled by books were occupied -by the beautiful pictures which my uncle had collected in Italy, -including a most exquisite Perugino, and fine works of Giorgione, Luini, -Giovanni da Udine, &c. I was especially attached to a large and glorious -picture by Paris Bordone of the Madonna and Child throned in a sort of -court of saints. I think my first intense love of colour came from the -study of that picture, which is now in the Museum at Cambridge; but my -uncle and mother did not care for this, preferring severer art. Uncle -Julius used to say that he constantly entertained in his drawing-room -seven Virgins, almost all of them more than three hundred years old. All -the pictures were to me as intimate friends, and I studied every detail -of their backgrounds, even of the dresses of the figures they portrayed: -they were also my constant comforters in the many miserable hours I even -then spent at the Rectory, where I was always utterly ignored, whilst -taken away from all my home employments and interests. - -Most unpleasant figures who held a prominent place in these childish -years were my step-grandmother, Mrs. Hare Naylor, and her daughter -Georgiana. Mrs. H. Naylor had been beautiful in her youth, and still, -with snowwhite hair, was an extremely pretty _petite_ old lady. She was -suspicious, exacting, and jealous to a degree. If she once took an -impression of any one, it was impossible to eradicate, however utterly -false it might be. She was very deaf, and only heard through a long -trumpet. She would make the most frightful tirades against people, -especially my mother and other members of the family, bring the most -unpleasant accusations against them, and the instant they attempted to -defend themselves, she took down her trumpet. Thus she retired into a -social fortress, and heard no opinion but her own. I never recollect her -taking the wisest turn--that of making the best of us all. I have been -told that her daughter Georgiana was once a very pretty lively girl. I -only remember her a sickly discontented petulant woman. When she was -young, she was very fond of dancing, and once, at Bonn, she undertook to -dance the clock round. She performed her feat, but it ruined her health, -and she had to lie on her back for a year. From this time she defied -the Italian proverb, "Let well alone," and dosed herself incessantly. -She had acquired "l'habitude d'être malade;" she liked the sympathy she -excited, and henceforth _preferred_ being ill. Once or twice every year -she was dying, the family were summoned, every one was in tears, they -knelt around her bed; it was the most delicious excitement. - -Mrs. Hare Naylor had a house at St. Leonards, on Maize Hill, where there -were only three houses then. We went annually to visit her for a day, -and she and "Aunt Georgiana" generally spent several months every year -at Hurstmonceaux Rectory--employing themselves in general abuse of all -the family. I offended Aunt Georgiana (who wore her hair down her back -in two long plaits) mortally, at a very early age, by saying "Chelu (the -Rectory dog) has only one tail, but Aunt Georgie has two."[18] - -On the 28th of June 1838, the Coronation of Queen Victoria took place, -when a great fête was given in the ruins of Hurstmonceaux Castle, at -which every person in the parish was provided with a dinner. It was in -this summer that my father brought his family to England to visit Sir -John Paul, who had then married his second wife, Mrs. Napier, and was -living with her at her own place, Pennard House, in Somersetshire. In -the autumn my father came alone to Hurstmonceaux Rectory. I remember him -then--tall and thin, and lying upon a sofa. Illness had made him very -restless, and he would wander perpetually about the rooms, opening and -shutting windows, and taking down one volume after another from the -bookcase, but never reading anything consecutively. It was long debated -whether his winter should be passed at Hastings or Torquay, but it was -eventually decided to spend it economically at West Woodhay House, near -Newbury, which Mr. John Sloper (nephew of our great-uncle--the husband -of Emilia Shipley) offered to lend for the purpose. At this time my -father's health was already exciting serious apprehensions. Mrs. Louisa -Shipley was especially alarmed about him, and wrote:-- - - "Dr. Chambers says your lungs are not _now_ in diseased state, but - it will require great care and caution for a long time to keep them - free, though with that he hopes that they may recover their - usual tone and become as stout as you represent them; so remember - that it depends on yourself and Ann's watchfulness and care of you, - whether you are to get quite well, or be sickly for the remainder - of your life, and also that the former becomes a duty, when you - think of your children." - -[Illustration: Francis G. Hare.] - -My father never once noticed my existence during his long stay at the -Rectory. On the last day before he left, my mother said laughingly, -"Really, Francis, I don't think you have ever found out that such a -little being as Augustus is in existence here." He was amused, and said, -"Oh no, really!" and he called me to him and patted my head, saying, -"Good little Wolf: good little Wolf!" It was the only notice he ever -took of me. - -Instead of going as usual direct to Stoke, we spent part of the winter -of 1838-39 with the Marcus Hares at Torquay. Their home was a most -beautiful one--Rockend, at the point of the bay, with very large grounds -and endless delightful walks winding amongst rocks and flowers, or -terraces overhanging the natural cliffs which there stride out seawards -over the magnificent natural arch known as London Bridge. Nevertheless I -recollect this time as one of the utmost misery. My Aunt Lucy, having -heard some one say that I was more intelligent than little Marcus, had -conceived the most violent jealousy of me, and I was cowed and snubbed -by her in every possible way. Little Marcus himself was encouraged not -only to carry off my little properties--shells, fossils, &c.--but to -slap, bite, and otherwise ill-treat me as much as he liked, and when, -the first day, I ventured, boylike, to retaliate, and cuff him again, I -was shut up for two days on bread and water--"to break my spirit"--and -most utterly miserable I became, especially as my dear mother treated it -as wholesome discipline, and wondered that I was not devoted to little -Marcus, whereas, on looking back, I wonder how--even in a modified -way--I ever endured him. - - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "_Torquay, January 7, 1839._--Augustus was very good on the - journey, full of spirits and merriment. He was much delighted in - passing through the New Forest to see the place where Rufus was - shot, of which he has a picture he is fond of. At Mr. Trench's[19] - he enjoyed, more than I ever saw him, playing with the children, - and the two elder ones were good friends with him directly. They - joined together and had all kinds of games. At Exmouth the shells - were a great delight while they were embarking the carriage that we - might cross the ferry. - - "It has been a trial to him on coming here to find himself quite a - secondary object of attention. At first he was so cowed by it that - he seemed to have lost all his gaiety, instead of being pleased to - play with little Marcus. In taking his playthings, little Marcus - excited a great desire to defend his own property, and though he - gives up to him in most things, he shows a feeling of trying to - keep his own things to himself, rather than any willingness to - share them. By degrees they have learnt to play together more - freely, and on the whole agree well. But I see strongly brought out - the self-seeking of my dear child, the desire of being first, - together with a want of true hearty love for his little companion, - and endeavour to please him." - - - "_Stoke, February 26._--All the time of our stay at Rockend, - Augustus was under an unnatural constraint, and though he played - for the most part good-humouredly with little Marcus, it was - evident he had no great pleasure in him, and instead of being - willing to give him anything, he seemed to _shut up_ all his - generous feelings, and to begin to think only of how he might - secure his own property from invasion: in short, all the - selfishness of his nature seemed thus to be drawn out. For the most - part he was good and obedient, but the influence of reward and - dread of punishment seemed to cause it. He has gained much greater - self-command, and will stop his screams on being threatened with - the loss of any pleasure immediately, and I fear the greater part - of his kindness to little Marcus arose from fear of his Aunt Lucy - if he failed to show it. Only once did he return a blow, and knock - little Marcus down. He was two days kept upstairs for it, and - afterwards bore patiently all the scratches he received; but it - worked inwardly and gave a dislike to his feeling towards his - cousin.... He seemed relieved when we left Torquay." - - - "_March 13, 1839._--My little Augustus is now five years old. - Strong personal identity, reference of everything to himself, - greediness of pleasures and possessions, are I fear prominent - features in his disposition. May I be taught how best to correct - these his sinful propensities with judgment, and to draw him out of - self to live for others." - -On leaving Torquay we went to Exeter to visit Lady Campbell, the eldest -daughter of Sir John Malcolm, who had been a great friend of my Uncle -Julius. She had became a Plymouth sister, the chief result of which was -that all her servants sate with her at meals. She had given up all the -luxuries, almost all the comforts, of life, and lived just as her -servants did, except that one silver fork and spoon were kept for Lady -Campbell. Thence we proceeded to Bath, to the house of "the Bath -Aunts," Caroline and Marianne Hare, daughters of that Henrietta Henckel -who pulled down Hurstmonceaux Castle. The aunts were very rich. Mrs. -Henckel Hare had a sister, Mrs. Pollen, who left £60,000 to Marianne, -who was her god-daughter, so that Caroline was the principal heiress of -her mother. After they left Hurstmonceaux, they rented a place in the -west of Sussex, but in 1820 took a place called Millard's Hill near -Frome, belonging to Lord Cork, and very near Marston, where he lived. I -was there many years after, on a visit to our distant cousin Lady Boyle, -who lived there after the Bath Aunts left it, and then found the -recollection still fresh in the neighbourhood of the Miss Hares, their -fine horses, their smart dress, their splendid jewels, and their -quarrelsome tempers. Their disputes had reference chiefly to my Uncle -Marcus, to whom they were both perfectly devoted, and furious if he paid -more attention to one than the other. Neither of them could ever praise -him enough. Caroline, who always wrote of him as her "treasure," was -positively in love with him. Whenever he returned from sea, to which he -had been sent as soon as he was old enough, the aunts grudged every day -which he did not spend with them. But their affection for him was -finally rivetted in 1826, when he was accidentally on a visit to them at -the time of their mother's sudden death, and was a great help and -comfort. Mrs. Henckel Hare had been failing for many years, and even in -1820 letters describe her as asking for salt when she meant bread, and -water when she meant wine; but her daughters, who had never left her, -mourned her loss bitterly. Augustus wrote to Lady Jones in 1827, that -the most difficult task his aunts had ever imposed upon him was that of -writing an epitaph for their mother, there was "so remarkably little to -say." However, with Julius's assistance, he did accomplish an -inscription, which, though perfectly truthful, is strikingly beautiful. -Besides her country house, Mrs. Henckel Hare had a large house in the -Crescent at Bath, where her old mother, Mrs. Henckel, lived with her to -an immense age. Old Mrs. Hare was of a very sharp disposition. Her -niece, Lady Taylor, has told me how she went to visit her at Eastbourne -as a child, and one day left her work upon the table when she went out. -When she came in, she missed it, and Mrs. Hare quietly observed, "You -left your work about, my dear, so I've thrown it all out of the window;" -and sure enough, on the beach her thimble, scissors, &c., were all -still lying, no one having picked them up! - -In their youth "the Bath Aunts" had been a great deal abroad with their -mother, and had been very intimate with the First Consul. It is always -said that he proposed to Marianne before his marriage with Josephine, -and that she refused him, and bitterly regretted it afterwards. -Certainly he showed her and her sister the most extraordinary attentions -when they afterwards visited Milan while he was there in his power. - -The Bath Aunts had two brothers (our great-uncles) who lived to grow up. -The eldest of these was Henry (born 1778). He was sent abroad, and was -said to be drowned, but the fact was never well established. Lady Taylor -remembered that, in their later life, a beggar once came to the door of -the aunts at Bath, and declared he was their brother Henry. The aunts -came down and looked at him, but not recognising any likeness to their -brother, they sent him away with a few shillings. The next brother, -George (born 1781), grew up, and went to India, whence he wrote -constantly, and most prosperously, to his family. After some years, they -heard that he was dead. He had always been supposed to be very rich, but -when he died nothing was forthcoming, and it was asserted by those on -the spot, that he had left no money behind him; yet this is very -doubtful, and it is possible that a fortune left by George Hare may -still transpire. Some people have thought that the account of George -Hare's death itself was fictitious; but at that time India was -considered perfectly inaccessible; there was no member of the family who -was able to go and look after him or his fortunes, and the subject -gradually dropped. - -[Illustration: HURSTMONCEAUX CASTLE.] - -Before leaving George Hare, perhaps it is worth while to introduce here -a story of later days, one of the many strange things that have happened -to us. It was some time after our great family misfortunes in 1859, -which will be described by-and-by, that I chanced to pass through -London, where I saw my eldest brother, Francis, who asked me if we had -any ancestor or relation who had gone to India and had died there. I -said "No," for at that time I had never heard of George Hare or of the -Bishop's youngest son, Francis, who likewise died in India. But my -brother insisted that we must have had an Indian relation who died -there; and on my inquiring "why," he told me the following story. He -assured me, that being resolved once more to visit the old family home, -he had gone down to Hurstmonceaux, and had determined to pass the night -in the castle. That in the high tower by the gateway he had fallen -asleep, and that in a vision he had seen an extraordinary figure -approaching him, a figure attired in the dress of the end of the last -century and with a pig-tail, who assured him that he was a near relation -of his, and was come to tell him that though he was supposed to have -died in India and insolvent, he had really died very rich, and that if -his relations chose to make inquiries, they might inherit his fortune! -At the time I declared that the story could not be true, as we never had -any relation who had anything to do with India, but Francis persisted -steadfastly in affirming what he had seen and heard, and some time -afterwards I was told of the existence of George Hare. - -At the time we were at Bath, Aunt Caroline was no longer living there; -she had become so furiously jealous of Mrs. Marcus Hare, that she had to -be kept under restraint, and though not actually mad, she lived alone -with an attendant in a cottage at Burnet near Corsham. There she died -some years after, very unhappy, poor thing, to the last. Her companion -was a Mrs. Barbara, with whom Aunt Caroline was most furious at times. -She had a large pension after her death. It used to be said that the -reason why Mrs. Barbara had only one arm and part of another was that -Aunt Caroline had eaten the rest.[20] - -It was when we were staying with Aunt Marianne in 1839 that I first saw -my real mother. "On est mère, ou on ne l'est pas," says the Madame -Cardinal of Ludovic Halévy. In my case "on ne l'était pas." I watched -Mrs. Hare's arrival, and, through the banisters of the staircase, saw -her cross the hall, and was on the tiptoe of expectation; but she -displayed no interest about seeing me, and did not ask for me at all -till late in the evening, when all enthusiasm had died away. "I hope the -Wolf answered your expectations, or still better surpassed them," wrote -my father to his wife from West Woodhay. He was in the habit of calling -all his children by the names of beasts. "Bring some cold-cream for the -Tigress" (my sister), he wrote at the same time, and "the Owl (Eleanor -Paul) and the Beast (William) are going to dine out." Francis he -generally called "Ping," and his wife "Mrs. Pook." - -Aunt Marianne, wishing to flatter Uncle Julius's love of learning, -proudly announced to him that she had given me a book--a present I was -perfectly enchanted with--when, to my intense dismay, he insisted upon -exchanging it for a skipping-rope! which I could never be persuaded to -use. - -In the autumn of 1839 my father again returned with his family to Pisa, -to the bitter grief of old Mrs. Louisa Shipley, who refused altogether -to take leave of Mrs. Hare, though she afterwards wrote (Oct. 16), "I -hope Anne has forgiven my rudeness her last day. I was too sorry to part -with you to admit any third person." She was already rapidly failing, -but she still wrote, "Your letters always give me pleasure, when I can -read them, but to be sure they take a long time in deciphering." In the -course of the following winter Mrs. Louisa Shipley died, without seeing -her favourite nephew again. It was found then that she had never -forgiven the last emigration to Italy against her wishes. Except a -legacy to my Uncle Marcus, she left all she possessed to her next -neighbour and cousin, Mrs. Townshend (daughter of Lady -Milner--half-sister of Mrs. Shipley)--a will which caused terrible -heartburnings amongst her more immediate relations, especially as many -precious relics of Lady Jones and of Mrs. Hare Naylor were included in -the property thus bequeathed. At the same time the estate of Gresford in -Flintshire, which Bishop Shipley had left to each of his daughters in -turn, now, on the death of the last of them, descended to my father, as -the eldest son of the eldest daughter who had left children. - -Victoire remembered the arrival of the letter, sealed with black, which -announced the death of Mrs. Shipley, whilst the Hare family were at -Florence. Félix was with his master when he opened the letter, and came -in afterwards to his wife, exclaiming, "Oh mon pauvre M. Hare a eu bien -de malheur." Francis Hare had thrown up his hands and said, "Félix, nous -sommes perdus." All that day he would not dress, and he walked up and -down the room in his dressing-gown, quite pale. He never was the same -person again. Up to that time he had always been "si gai"--he was always -smiling. He was "si recherché." "Avec les grands il était si franc, si -charmant, mais avec les personnes de basse condition il était encore -plus aimable que avec les grands personnages. Oh! comme il était -aimé.... Jusque là il était invité partout, et il donnait toujours à -diner et ses fêtes, et son introduction était comme un passeport -partout. Mais depuis là il ne faisait pas le même--et c'était juste: il -faudrait penser à ses enfants."[21] - -But I am digressing from my own story, and must return to the intensely -happy time of escaping from Rockend and going to Stoke. It was during -this journey that I first saw any ruin of importance beyond -Hurstmonceaux and Pevensey. This was Glastonbury Abbey, and it made a -great impression upon me. I also saw the famous Christmas-blooming -thorn, which is said to have grown from St. Joseph of Arimathea's staff, -in the abbot's garden, bright with hepaticas. I remember at Stoke this -year having for the first time a sense of how much the pleasantness of -religious things depends upon the person who expresses them. During the -winter my mother saw much of the voluminous author Mr. Charles Tayler, -who was then acting as curate at Hodnet. He was very frank and sincere, -and his "religious talking" I did not mind at all; whereas when the -Maurices "talked," I thought it quite loathsome. In the following summer -I used often to listen to conversations between Mr. Manning (afterwards -Archdeacon, then Cardinal) and my mother, as he then first fell into the -habit of coming constantly to Hurstmonceaux and being very intimate with -my mother and uncle. He was very lovable and one of the most perfectly -gentle _gentle_-men I have ever known; my real mother used to call him -"l'harmonie de la poésie religieuse." My mother was very unhappy when he -became a Roman Catholic in 1851. - -How many happy recollections I have of hot summer days in the unbroken -tranquillity of these summers at Lime. My mother was then the object of -my uncle's exclusive devotion. He consulted her on every subject, and he -thought every day a blank in which they had no meeting. We constantly -drove up to the Rectory in the afternoon, when he had always some new -plant to show her and to talk about. I well remember his enchantment -over some of the new flowers which were being "invented" -then--especially _Salpiglossis_ (so exceedingly admired at first, but -now forgotten), _Salvia patens_ and _Fuchsia fulgens_, of which we -brought back from Wood's Nursery a little plant, which was looked upon -as a perfect marvel of nature. - -Often when awake in the night now, I recall, out of the multiplicity of -pretty, even valuable things, with which my house of Holmhurst is -filled, how few of them belonged to our dear simple home in these early -days. The small double hall had nothing in it, I think, except a few -chairs, and some cloaks hanging on pegs against the wall, and the simple -furniture of the double drawing-room consisted chiefly of the gifts made -to my mother by her family when she went to Alton. One wall--the -longest--was, however, occupied by a great bookcase, filled with -handsomely bound books, chiefly divinity, many of them German. On the -other walls hung a very few valuable engravings, mostly from Raffaelle, -and all framed according to Uncle Julius's fancy, which would have -driven print-collectors frantic, for he cut off all margins, even of -proofs before letters. The only point of colour in the room, not given -by flowers, came from a large panel picture presented by Landor--a -Madonna and Child by Raffaellino da Colle, in a fine old Italian frame. -The few china ornaments on the chimney-piece beneath were many of them -broken, but they were infinitely precious to us. In the dining-room were -only a few prints of Reginald Heber, my Uncle Norwich, my grandfather -Leycester, and others. Simpler still were the bedrooms, where the -curtains of the windows and beds were of white dimity. In my mother's -room, however, were some beautiful sketches of the older family by -Flaxman. The "pantry," which was Lea's especial sitting-room, where the -walls were covered with pictures and the mantel-piece laden with china, -had more the look of rooms of the present time. I believe, however, that -the almost spiritualised aspect of my mother's rooms at Lime were as -characteristic of her at this time, as the more mundane rooms of my -after home of Holmhurst are characteristic of myself! - -[Illustration: THE DRAWING-ROOM AT LIME.] - -My mother and I breakfasted every morning at eight (as far as I can -remember, I _never_ had any meal in the so-called nursery) in the -dining-room, which, as well as the drawing-room, had wide glass doors -always open to the little terrace of the garden, from which the smell of -new-mown grass or dewy pinks and syringa was wafted into the room. If it -was very hot too, our breakfast took place _on_ the terrace, in the deep -shadow of the house, outside the little drawing-room window. After -breakfast I began my lessons, which, though my mother and uncle always -considered me a dunce, I now think to have been rather advanced for a -child of five years old, as besides English reading, writing and -spelling, history, arithmetic and geography, I had to do German reading -and _writing_, and a little Latin. Botany and drawing I was also taught, -but they were an intense delight. Through plans, maps, and raised -models, I was made perfectly familiar with the topography of Jerusalem -and the architecture of the Temple, though utterly ignorant of the -topography of Rome or London and of the architecture of St. Peter's or -St. Paul's. But indeed I never recollect the moment of (indoor) -childhood in which I was not undergoing education of some kind, and -generally of an unwelcome kind. There was often a good deal of screaming -and crying over the writing and arithmetic, and I never got on -satisfactorily with the former till my Aunt Kitty (Mrs. Stanley) or my -grandmother (Mrs. Leycester) took it in hand, sitting over me with a -ruler, and by a succession of hearty bangs on the knuckles, forced my -fingers to go the right way. At twelve o'clock I went out with my -mother, sometimes to Lime Cross (village) and to the fields behind it, -where I used to make nosegays of "robin's-eye and ground-ivy,"--my love -of flowers being always encouraged by mother, whose interest in Nature -had a freshness like the poetry of Burns, observing everything as it -came out-- - - "The rustling corn, the freited thorn, - And every happy creature." - -Generally, however, we went to the girls' school at "Flowers Green," -about half a mile off on the way to the church, where Mrs. Piper was the -mistress, a dear old woman who recollected the destruction of the -castle, and had known all my uncles in their childhood at Hurstmonceaux -Place. At the school was a courtyard, overhung with laburnums, where I -remember my mother in her lilac muslin dress sitting and teaching the -children under a bower of golden rain. - -I wonder what would be thought of dear old Mrs. Piper, in these days of -board-schools and examinations for certificates. "Now, Mr. Simpikins," -she said one day to Mr. Simpkinson the curate, whose name she never -could master--"Now Mr. Simpikins, do tell me, was that Joseph who they -sold into Egypt the same as that Joseph who was married to the Virgin -Mary?"--"Oh no, they were hundreds of years apart."--"Well, they both -went down into Egypt anyway." Yet Mrs. Piper was admirably suited to her -position, and the girls of her tuition were taught to sew and keep house -and "mind their manners and morals," and there were many good women at -Hurstmonceaux till her pupils became extinct. The universal respect with -which the devil is still spoken of at Hurstmonceaux is probably due to -Mrs. Piper's peculiar teaching. - -But, to return to our own life, at one we had dinner--almost always -roast-mutton and rice-pudding--and then I read aloud--Josephus at a -_very_ early age, and then Froissart's Chronicles. At three we went out -in the carriage to distant cottages, often ending at the Rectory. At -five I was allowed to "amuse myself," which generally meant nursing the -cat for half-an-hour and "hearing it its lessons." All the day I had -been with my mother, and now generally went to my dear nurse Lea for -half-an-hour, when I had tea in the cool "servants' hall" (where, -however, the servants never sat--preferring the kitchen), after which I -returned to find Uncle Julius arrived, who stayed till my bedtime. - -As Uncle Julius was never captivating to children, it is a great pity -that he was turned into an additional bugbear, by being always sent for -to whip me when I was naughty! These executions generally took place -with a riding-whip, and looking back dispassionately through the -distance of years, I am conscious that, for a delicate child, they were -a great deal too severe. I always screamed dreadfully in the -anticipation of them, but bore them without a sound or a tear. I -remember one very hot summer's day, when I had been very naughty over my -lessons, Froissart's Chronicles having been particularly uninteresting, -and having produced the very effect which Ahasuerus desired to obtain -from the reading of the book of the records of the chronicles, that -Uncle Julius was summoned. He arrived, and I was sent upstairs to -"prepare." Then, as I knew I was going to be whipped anyway, I thought I -might as well do something horrible to be whipped _for_, and, as soon as -I reached the head of the stairs, gave three of the most awful, -appalling and eldrich shrieks that ever were heard in Hurstmonceaux. -Then I fled for my life. Through the nursery was a small bedroom, in -which Lea slept, and here I knew that a large black travelling -"imperial" was kept under the bed. Under the bed I crawled, and wedged -myself into the narrow space behind the imperial, between it and the -wall. I was only just in time. In an instant all the household--mother, -uncle, servants--were in motion, and a search was on foot all over the -house. I turn cold still when I remember the agony of fright with which -I heard Uncle Julius enter the nursery, and then, with which, through a -chink, I could see his large feet moving about the very room in which I -was. He _looked under the bed_, but he saw only a large black box. I -held my breath, motionless, and he turned away. Others looked under the -bed too; but my concealment was effectual. - -I lay under the bed for an hour--stifling--agonised. Then all sounds -died away, and I knew that the search in the house was over, and that -they were searching the garden. At last my curiosity would no longer -allow me to be still, and I crept from under the bed and crawled to the -window of my mother's bedroom, whence I could overlook the garden -without being seen. Every dark shrub, every odd corner was being -ransacked. The whole household and the gardeners were engaged in the -pursuit. At last I could see by their actions--for I could not hear -words--that a dreadful idea had presented itself. In my paroxysms I had -rushed down the steep bank, and tumbled or thrown myself into the pond! -I saw my mother look very wretched and Uncle Julius try to calm her. At -last they sent for people to drag the pond. Then I could bear my dear -mother's expression no longer, and, from my high window, I gave a little -hoot. Instantly all was changed; Lea rushed upstairs to embrace me; -there was great talking and excitement, and while it was going on, Uncle -Julius was called away, and every one ... forgot that I had not been -whipped! That, however, was the only time I ever escaped. - -In the most literal sense, and in every other, I was "brought up at the -point of the rod." My dearest mother was so afraid of over-indulgence -that she always went into the opposite extreme: and her constant habits -of self-examination made her detect the slightest act of especial -kindness into which she had been betrayed, and instantly determine not -to repeat it. Nevertheless, I loved her most passionately, and many -tearful fits, for which I was severely punished as fits of naughtiness, -were really caused by anguish at the thought that I had displeased her -or been a trouble to her. From never daring to express my wishes in -words, which she would have thought it a duty to meet by an immediate -refusal, I early became a coward as to concealing what I really desired. -I remember once, in my longing for childish companionship, so intensely -desiring that the little Coshams--a family of children who lived in the -parish--might come to play with me, that I entreated that they might -come to have tea in the summer-house on my Hurstmonceaux birthday (the -day of my adoption), and that the mere request was not only refused, but -so punished that I never dared to express a wish to play with any child -again. At the same time I was _expected_ to play with little Marcus, -then an indulged disagreeable child whom I could not endure, and because -I was not fond of _him_, was thought intensely selfish and self-seeking. - -As an example of the severe discipline which was maintained with regard -to me, I remember that one day when we went to visit the curate, a lady -(Miss Garden) very innocently gave me a lollypop, which I ate. This -crime was discovered when we came home by the smell of peppermint, and a -large dose of rhubarb and soda was at once administered with a -forcing-spoon, though I was in robust health at the time, to teach me to -avoid such carnal indulgences as lollypops for the future. For two -years, also, I was obliged to swallow a dose of rhubarb every morning -and every evening because--according to old-fashioned ideas--it was -supposed to "strengthen the stomach!" I am sure it did me a great deal -of harm, and had much to do with accounting for my after sickliness. -Sometimes I believe the medicine itself induced fits of fretfulness; but -if I cried more than usual, it was supposed to be from want of -additional medicine, and the next morning senna-tea was added to the -rhubarb. I remember the misery of sitting on the back-stairs in the -morning and having it in a tea-cup, with milk and sugar. - -At a very early age I was made to go to church--once, which very soon -grew into twice, on a Sunday. Uncle Julius's endless sermons were my -detestation. I remember some one speaking of him to an old man in the -parish, and being surprised by the statement that he was "not a good -winter parson," which was explained to mean that he kept the people so -long with his sermons, that they could not get home before dark. - -With the utmost real kindness of heart, Uncle Julius had often the -sharpest and most insulting manner I have ever known in speaking to -those who disagreed with him. I remember an instance of this when Mr. -Simpkinson had lately come to Hurstmonceaux as my uncle's curate. His -sister, then a very handsome young lady, had come down from London to -visit him, and my mother took her to church in the carriage. That Sunday -happened to be Michaelmas Day. As we were driving slowly away from -church through the crowd of those who had formed the congregation, Uncle -Julius holding the reins, something was said about the day. Without a -suspicion of giving offence, Miss Simpkinson, who was sitting behind -with me, said, in a careless way, "As for me, my chief association with -Michaelmas Day is a roast goose." Then Uncle Julius turned round, and, -in a voice of _thunder_, audible to every one on the road, exclaimed, -"Ignorant and presumptuous young woman!" He had never seen her till that -day. As she said to me years after, when she was a wife and mother, -"That the Archdeacon should call me ignorant and presumptuous was -trying, still I could bear that very well; but that he should dare to -call me a _young woman_ was not to be endured." However, her only -alternative was to bear the affront and be driven two miles home, or to -insist upon getting out of the carriage and walking home through the -mud, and she chose the former course, and afterwards my uncle, when he -knew her good qualities, both admired and liked her. - -It must have been about this time that Uncle Julius delivered his -sermons on "the Mission of the Comforter" at Cambridge, and many of his -friends used to amuse my mother by describing them. The church was -crowded, but the congregation was prepared for sermons of ordinary -length. The Halls then "went in" at three, and when that hour came, and -there was no sign of a conclusion, great was the shuffling of feet. This -was especially the case during the sermon on "The Church the Light of -the World," but Uncle Julius did not care a bit, and went on till 3.20 -quite composedly. - -At this time it used to be said that Uncle Julius had five -popes--Wordsworth, Niebuhr, Bunsen, Frederick Maurice, and Manning.[22] -They were very different certainly, but he was equally up in arms if any -of these were attacked. - -I was not six years old before my mother--under the influence of the -Maurices--began to follow out a code of penance with regard to me which -was worthy of the ascetics of the desert. Hitherto I had never been -allowed anything but roast-mutton and rice-pudding for dinner. Now all -was changed. The most delicious puddings were talked of--_dilated_ -on--until I became, not greedy, but exceedingly curious about them. At -length "le grand moment" arrived. They were put on the table before me, -and then, just as I was going to eat some of them, they were snatched -away, and I was told to get up and carry them off to some poor person in -the village. I remember that, though I did not really in the least care -about the dainties, I cared excessively about Lea's wrath at the fate of -her nice puddings, of which, after all, I was most innocent. We used at -this time to read a great deal about the saints, and the names of -Polycarp, Athanasius, &c., became as familiar to me as those of our own -household. Perhaps my mother, through Esther Maurice's influence, was -just a little High Church at this time, and always fasted to a certain -extent on Wednesdays and Fridays, on which days I was never allowed to -eat butter or to have any pudding. Priscilla Maurice also even persuaded -Uncle Julius to have a service in the schoolroom at (the principal -village) Gardner Street on saints' days, which was attended by one old -woman and ourselves. My mother, who always appropriated to charities all -money she received for the sale of my Uncle Augustus's sermons, also now -spent part of it in the so-called "restoration" of Hurstmonceaux Church, -when all the old pews were swept away and very hideous varnished benches -put in their place. Uncle Julius, as soon as he became Archdeacon, used -to preach a perfect crusade against pews, and often went, saw and hammer -in hand, to begin the work in the village churches with his own hands. - -Our own life through these years continued to be of the most primitive -and simple kind. A new book or a new flower was its greatest event--an -event to be chronicled and which only came once or twice a year. Many -little luxuries, most common now, were not invented then, steel-pens and -wax-matches for instance, and, amongst a thousand other unobserved -deficiencies, there were no night-lights, except of a most rudimentary -kind. No one ever thought of having baths in their rooms then, even in -the most comfortable houses: a footpan or a "bidet" was the utmost -luxury attempted. - -It was in the spring of 1839 that I had my first associations with -death. Often, in my earliest childish days, had I seen the sweet and -charming Lady Parry, who, as Bella Stanley, had been one of the dearest -friends of my mother's youth. While our dear cousins Charlotte and Emma -Leycester were at Lime, the news came of her death, and I remember how -they and my mother sate over the fire crying, and of gradually -understanding the cause, and of tears being renewed for several mornings -afterwards, when details were received from Sir Edward Parry and old -Lady Stanley. - - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, June 18, 1839._--During a week spent in London, Augustus - was part of every day with his brothers and sister. Their first - meeting was at Sheen. Augustus was much excited before they came, - and when he saw his brothers, threw himself on my neck and kissed - me passionately. They were soon intimate, and he was very much - delighted at playing with them, and was not made fretful by it. - There seemed to be a strong feeling of affection awakened towards - them, unlike anything he has shown to other children. I have begun - to teach Augustus to draw, but it is wearisome work from his - inattention.... His delight in flowers and knowledge of their names - is greater than ever, and it is equally necessary to control his - gratification in this as in other pleasures. The usual punishment - for his impatience over dressing is to have no garden flowers. - - "In all the books of education I do not find what I believe is the - useful view taken of the actual labour of learning to read--that of - forcing the child's attention to a thing irksome to it and without - interest. The task is commonly spoken of as a means to an end, - necessary because the information in books cannot otherwise be - obtained, and it is to be put off till the child's interest in the - information is excited and so made a pleasure to him. Now it seems - to me to be an excellent discipline whereby daily some self-denial - and command may be acquired in overcoming the repugnance to doing - from duty that which has in itself no attraction. In the first - struggle to fix the attention and learn that which is without - interest, but which _must be done_, a habit is gained of great - importance. And in this way nothing is better suited to the purpose - than the _lesson_ of reading, even though little progress may be - made for a long time. - - "I find in giving any order to a child, it is always better not to - _look_ to see if he obeys, but to take it for granted it will be - done. If one appears to doubt the obedience, there is occasion - given for the child to hesitate, 'Shall I do it or no?' If you seem - not to question the possibility of non-compliance, he feels a trust - committed to him to keep and fulfils it. It is best never to repeat - a command, never to answer the oft-asked question 'why?' - - "Augustus would, I believe, always do a thing if _reasoned_ with - about it, but the necessity of obedience without reasoning is - specially necessary in such a disposition as his. The will is the - thing that needs being brought into subjection. - - "The withholding a pleasure is a safe punishment for naughtiness, - more safe, I think, than giving a reward for goodness. 'If you are - naughty I must punish you,' is often a necessary threat: but it is - not good to hold out a bribe for goodness--'If you are good I will - give you such a thing.'" - -In the autumn of 1839 we went for the first time to Norwich and spent -Christmas there, which was most enchanting to me. The old buildings of -Norwich gave me, even at five years old, the intense and passionate -pleasure with which I have ever since regarded them. No others are the -same. No others come back to me constantly in dreams in the same way. - -[Illustration: RUIN IN THE PALACE GARDEN, NORWICH.] - -How I revelled in the old Palace of that time, with its immensely long -rambling passages and carved furniture; in the great dining-room with -the pictures of the Christian Virtues, and the broad damp matted -staircase with heavy banisters which led through it towards the -cathedral, which it entered after passing the mysterious chapel-door -with its wrought-iron grille, and a quaint little court, in which a -raven and a seagull, two of the many pets of my uncle the Bishop, -usually disported themselves! Then, in the garden were the old gateway -and the beautiful ruin of the first bishop's palace, and, beyond the -ruin, broad walks in the kitchen-garden, ending in a summer-house, and a -grand old mulberry-tree in a corner. Outside the grounds of the Palace, -it was a joy to go with Lea by the old gate-house over the Ferry to -Mousehold Heath, where delightful pebbles were to be picked up, and to -the Cow Tower by the river Wensum: and sometimes Aunt Kitty took me in -the carriage to Bramerton, where my kind old uncle taught me the names -of all the different fossils, which I have never forgotten to this day. - -My Aunt Kitty was deeply interesting, but also very awful to me. I could -always tell when she thought I was silly by her looks, just as if she -said it in words. I was dreadfully afraid of her, but irresistibly -attracted to her. Like my mother, I never differed from her opinion or -rebelled against her word. She was pleased with my attempts to draw, and -tried to teach me, drawing before me from very simple objects, and then -leaving me her outlines to copy, before attempting to imitate the -reality. - -[Illustration: THE CHAPEL DOOR, NORWICH.] - -My cousins, Mary and Kate, had two rooms filled with pictures and other -treasures, which were approached by a very steep staircase of their own. -I soon began to be especially devoted to Kate, but I thought it perfect -rapture to pay both of them visits in their rooms and "make waxworks" -with the little bits of coloured wax off the taper-candles which they -collected for me. Besides, in her room Kate kept a wonderful little live -owl. My cousin Arthur Stanley was also very attractive to me. He was -quite young at this time--had not taken his Oxford degree, I think--and -had a very charming and expressive countenance. If it had not been for -this, and his winning smile, I suppose that in manners (certainly in -dress) he would have been thought very wanting. He scarcely ever spoke -to strangers, and coloured violently when spoken to. His father he was -most piteously afraid of. I do not think he was quite comfortable and at -home with any one except his two sisters. But he noticed me a good deal -as a child, and told me stories out of the History of England, which I -liked immensely. Hugh Pearson, afterwards my dear friend, recollected -how, on overhearing him and Arthur in the chapel talking about the -inscription on the tomb of Bishop Sparrow, who wrote the "Rationale," I -exclaimed, "Oh cousin Arthur, _do_ tell me about Bishop Sparrow and the -Russian lady." I used to play with the children of Canon Wodehouse, who, -with his charming wife, Lady Jane, lived close to the Palace. With their -two youngest daughters, Emily and Alice, I was great friends, and long -kept up a childish correspondence with them, on the tiniest possible -sheets of paper. Emily had bright red hair, but it toned down, and after -she grew up she was very much admired as Mrs. Legh of Lyme. On the way -to the Ferry lived Professor Sedgwick, who was always very kind to me. -He once took me with him to a shop and presented me with a great -illustrated "Robinson Crusoe." - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "_Stoke, Feb. 12, 1840._--Augustus's chief delight of late has been - stories out of the History of England, and the 'Chapter of Kings' - is a continual source of interest and pleasure. His memory in - these things is very strong and his quick apprehension of times and - circumstances. I should say the historical organ was very decided - in him, and he seems to have it to the exclusion of the simple - childlike view of everything common to his age. In reading the - account of the flood yesterday he asked, 'What books did Noah take - into the Ark? he must have taken a Bible.'--'No--the people lived - after his time.'--'Then he must have had one of Adam and Eve and - Cain and Abel.'--'How dreadful it must have been for Noah to see - all the dead bodies when he came out of the Ark.' - - "'How much ground there will be when we all die!'--'Why - so?'--'Because we shall all turn to dust.' - - "There is a strong predominance of the intellectual over the moral - feeling in him, I fear, and it must be my endeavour always to draw - out and encourage the love of what is good and noble in character - and action. His eyes, however, always fill with tears on hearing - any trait of this kind, and he readily melts at any act of - self-denial or affection, so that his talking little of these - things must not perhaps be dwelt upon as a sure sign of not - estimating them." - - "_August 5._--There is just the same greediness in Augustus now - about books that there used to be about flowers, and I have to - restrain the taste for novelty and excitement. Reading of a little - girl who was fond of her Bible, he said, 'I should not have been - so. I like my fat Yellow Book much better, but I like the Bible far - better than the Prayer-Book: I do not like that at all.'" - -In this year of 1840, Uncle Julius accepted the Archdeaconry of Lewes, -which wrought a change in our quiet life from the great number of clergy -who were now constant guests at the Rectory and the greater frequency of -clerical subjects of discussion at Lime. Once a year also, we went -regularly to Hastings for a night before my uncle gave his charge to the -clergy, driving back late afterwards through the hot lanes. I always -liked this expedition and scrambling about with Lea on the mile of open -common which then intervened between St. Leonards and Hastings: but it -was dreadfully tantalising, when I was longing to go to the sea on the -second day, that I was expected to remain for hours in the hot St. -Clement's Church, while the sermon and charge were going on, and that -the charge, of which I understood nothing except that I hated it, -sometimes lasted three hours! - -Mr. John Nassau Simpkinson[23] was now curate to my uncle, and lived in -"the Curatage" at Gardner Street with his sister Louisa and her friend -Miss Dixon, whom we saw constantly. They persuaded my mother to have -weekly "parish tea-parties," at which all the so-called "ladies of the -parish" came to spend the evening, drink tea, and work for the poor, -while one of them read aloud from a Missionary Report. I think it was -also at the suggestion of Miss Simpkinson that my mother _adopted_ a -little Hindoo girl (whom of course she never saw), putting her to -school, paying for her, and otherwise providing for her. - -A little excitement of our quiet summer was the marriage, in our old -church, of my half-uncle Gustavus Hare, then a handsome young officer, -to a pretty penniless Miss Annie Wright. It was a most imprudent -marriage, and would probably have been broken off at the last moment, if -my mother had not been melted by their distress into settling something -(£1200 I think) upon them. I remember that it was thought a good omen -that a firefly (one had never been seen at Hurstmonceaux before) -perched, with its little lamp, upon the bride on the evening before the -marriage. Mrs. Gustavus Hare proved an admirable wife and a good mother -to her army of children. They lived for some time in Devonshire, and -then in Ireland: whence, in 1868, they went to Australia, and afterwards -passed entirely out of the family horizon, though I believe many of the -children are still living. - -In the autumn, a great enjoyment was driving in our own little -carriage, with "Dull," the old horse (mother, Uncle Julius, Lea, and I), -to spend a few days with the Penrhyns at Sheen, sleeping at Godstone and -passing through Ashdown Forest. In those days, however, by starting -early and posting, the journey from Lime to London could be accomplished -in one day, but our annual journey from London to Stoke (in Shropshire) -occupied three days. My mother and I used to play at "gates and stiles," -counting them, through the whole journey. Unluckily the swinging motion -of our great travelling chariot always made me so sick that I had a -horror of these journeys; but we had pleasant hours in the evenings at -the old posting-inns, with their civil old-fashioned servants and -comfortable sitting-rooms with the heavy mahogany furniture which one so -seldom sees now, and sometimes we arrived early enough for a walk, which -had all the interest of an expedition into an unknown territory. Well do -I remember certain fields near the comfortable old inn of Chapel House, -and the daisies which Lea and I used to pick there. After my Aunt Kitty -gave me my first taste for antiquities when showing me, at Stoke, the -picture of Old Time in the frontispiece of Grose's "Antiquities," these -journeys had a fresh interest, and greatly did I delight in the glimpse -of Brambletye House, as we passed through Ashdown Forest, and the little -tower of Stafford Castle at the top of its wooded hill. Once also we -slept at Peterborough and saw its cathedral, and on the way to Norwich -it was always an ecstasy to see and draw Thetford Abbey. - -On the third day from London, when evening was drawing to a close, we -began to reach familiar scenes--the inn of "the Loggerheads," with the -sign of the two heads and the motto-- - - "We three - Loggerheads be." - -Market-Drayton, paved with round pebbles, over which the carriage jolted -violently, the few lamps being lighted against the black and white -houses at the dark street corners: Little Drayton shabbier still, with -the gaudy sign of the Lord Hill public-house, then of "The Conquering -Hero," with the same intention: Stoke Heath, at that time a wild -pine-wood carpeted with heather: some narrow lanes between high -hedgerows: a white gate in a hollow with river-watered meadows: a drive -between steep mossy banks with beech-trees, and a glimpse of an old -church and tufted islands rising from the river in the flat meadows -beyond: then the long windows and projecting porch of a white house with -two gables. As we drove up, we could see through the windows two figures -rising hastily from their red armchairs on either side the fire--an -ancient lady in a rather smart cap, and an old gentleman with snow-white -hair and the dearest face in the world--Grannie and Grandpapa. - -[Illustration: STOKE RECTORY--THE APPROACH.] - -The happiest days of my childish years were all condensed in the five -months which we annually spent at Stoke (away from Uncle Julius, Aunt -Georgiana, and the Maurices). Grandpapa did not take much notice of my -existence, but when he did it was always in kindness, though I believe -he had rather resented my adoption. Grannie (who was only my mother's -stepmother but married to Grandpapa when she was quite a child) was -tremendously severe, but also very good to me: she never "kept me at a -distance," so, though she often punished me, I was never afraid of -her--"Better a little chiding than a great deal of heart-break."[24] - -The quaint old house was also suited to my imaginative disposition, and -I thought the winding passage in the older part quite charming, and -never observed that my bedroom had no carpet, and that the fender, which -was the whole height of the mantel-piece, shut in all the warmth of the -fire. A dark back-staircase with a swing door and a heavy bolt, which I -thought most romantic, led hence to the offices. - -In memory I can still see dear Grannie coming downstairs in the morning, -with her little fat red and white spaniel Rose (it had belonged to her -sister Rosamund) barking before her. She used to make Grandpapa read -prayers in the study, a little long room close to the offices, which -had a white bookcase along one side full of old books in white paper -covers, and on the other a number of quaint old pictures of Switzerland. -Square green baize cushions were put down in front of each of the -"quality" for them to kneel upon, and were taken away as soon as the -performance was over. I had my breakfast in the little room of Mrs. -Cowbourne, my Grannie's dear old maid, which was through the kitchen, -and deliciously warm and comfortable. I always remember the three glazed -green flower-pots which stood in the window of that room, and which held -respectively a double geranium, a trailing hop, and a very peculiar kind -of small fuchsia, which one never sees now, with very small flowers. -Sometimes I went in to see the men and maids have their breakfast at the -long table in the servants' hall: the maids had only great bowls of -bread and milk; tea and bread and butter were never thought of below the -housekeeper's room. - -[Illustration: Rev. Oswald Leycester - -From a portrait in his 86th year] - -I did my lessons in my mother's room upstairs, which, as she always -brought with her a picture of the four Hare brothers, and certain books -from home in familiar covers, suggested a salutary reminiscence of Uncle -Julius. Spelling and geography were always trials, the latter -because the geography book was so dreadfully uninteresting: it told us -how many inhabitants there were in the States of Lucca and Modena. I -never had any playthings at Stoke: my amusement was to draw on all the -bits of paper I could get hold of; but I only drew two subjects, over -and over again--the Day of Judgment, and Adam and Eve being turned out -of Paradise: these were of inexhaustible interest. Sometimes I was -allowed to have the little volumes of "Voyages and Travels" to look at -(I have them now), with the enchanting woodcuts of the adventures of -Columbus, Cortes, and Pizarro: and there were certain little books of -Natural History, almost equally delightful, which lived on the same -shelf of the great bookcase in the drawing-room, and were got down by a -little flight of red steps. - -I scarcely ever remember Grannie as going out, except sometimes to -church. She was generally in one extreme or other of inflammation or -cold; but it never went beyond a certain point, and when she was thought -to be most ill, she suddenly got well. Grandpapa used to walk with my -mother in the high "rope-walk" at the top of the field, and I used to -frisk away from them and find amusement in the names which my mother -and her companions had cut on the beech-trees in their youth: in the -queer dark corners of rock-work and shrubbery: in the deliciously high -sweet box hedge at the bottom of the kitchen-garden; and most of all in -the pretty little river Clarence, which flowed to join the Terne under a -wooden bridge in a further garden which also belonged to the Rectory. -But, if Grandpapa was not with us, we used to go to the islands in the -Terne, reached by straight paths along the edge of wide ditches in the -meadows. Two wooden bridges in succession led to the principal island, -which was covered with fine old willow-trees, beneath which perfect -masses of snowdrops came up in spring. At the end was a little -bathing-house, painted white inside, and surrounded with cupboards, -where I used to conceal various treasures, and find them again the -following year. I also buried a bird near the bathing-house, and used to -dig it up every year to see how the skeleton was getting on. My mother -had always delightful stories to tell of this island in her own -childhood, and of her having twice tumbled into the river: I was never -tired of hearing them. - -Another great enjoyment was to find skeleton-leaves, chiefly -lime-leaves. There was a damp meadow which we called "the -skeleton-ground" from the number we found there. I have never seen any -since my childhood, but I learnt a way then of filling up the fibres -with gum, after which one could paint upon them. Our man-servant, John -Gidman, used to make beautiful arrows for me with the reeds which grew -in the marshy meadows or by "Jackson's Pool" (a delightful place near -which snowdrops grew wild), and I used to "go out shooting" with a bow. -Also, in one of the lumber-rooms I found an old spinning-wheel, upon -which I used to spin all the wool I could pick off the hedges: and there -was a little churn in which it was enchanting to make butter, but this -was only allowed as a great treat. - -[Illustration: PETSEY.] - -I always found the Shropshire lanes infinitely more amusing than those -at Hurstmonceaux. Beyond the dirty village where we used to go to visit -"Molly Latham and Hannah Berry" was a picturesque old water-mill, of -which Grandpapa had many sketches. Then out of the hedge came two -streamlets through pipes, which to me had all the beauty of waterfalls. -Close to the Terne stood a beautiful old black and white farmhouse -called Petsey. The Hodnet Lane (delightfully productive of wool), which -ran in front of it, led also to Cotton, a farmhouse on a hill, whither -my mother often went to visit "Anne Beacoll," and which was infinitely -amusing to me. At the corner of the farmyard was a gigantic stone, of -which I wonder to this day how it got there, which Grandpapa always told -me to put in my pocket. But I liked best of all to beguile my mother in -another direction through a muddy lane, in which we were half swamped, -to Helshore, for there, on a promontory above the little river, where -she remembered an old house in her childhood, the crocuses and -polyanthuses of the deserted garden were still to be found in spring -under the moss-grown apple-trees. - -My grandparents and my mother dined at six. The dining-room had two -pillars, and I was allowed to remain in the room and play behind them -noiselessly: generally acting knights and heroes out of my ballad-books. -At Hurstmonceaux I should have been punished at once if I ever made a -noise, but at Stoke, if I was betrayed into doing so, which was not very -often, Grannie would say, "Never mind the child, Maria, it is only -innocent play." I can hear her tone now. Sometimes when "Uncle Ned" (the -Bishop of Norwich) came, he used to tell me the story of Mrs. Yellowly, -cutting an orange like an old lady's face, and "how Mrs. Yellowly went -to sea," with results quite shocking--which may be better imagined than -described. In the dining-room were two framed prints of the death of -Lord Chatham (from Copley's picture) and of Lord Nelson, in which the -multitude of figures always left something to be discovered. At the end -of the room was a "horse"--a sort of stilted chair on high springs, for -exercise on wet days. - -In the evenings my mother used to read aloud to her old parents. Miss -Strickland's "Queens of England" came out then, and were all read aloud -in turn. If I found the book beyond my comprehension, I was allowed, -till about six years old, to amuse myself with some ivory fish, which I -believe were intended for card-markers. Occasionally Margaret, the -housemaid, read aloud, and very well too. She also sang beautifully, -having been thoroughly well trained by Mrs. Leycester, and I never hear -the Collect "Lord of all power and might" without thinking of her. -Grannie was herself celebrated for reading aloud, having been taught by -Mrs. Siddons, with whom her family were very intimate, and she gave me -the lessons she had received, making me repeat the single line, "The -quality of Mercy is not strained," fifty or sixty times over, till I had -exactly the right amount of intonation on each syllable, her delicate -ear detecting the slightest fault. Afterwards I was allowed to read--to -devour--an old brown copy of "Percy's Reliques," and much have I learnt -from those noble old ballads. How cordially I agree with Professor -Shairp, who said that if any one made serious study of only two -books--Percy's "Reliques" and Scott's "Minstrelsy"--he would "give -himself the finest, freshest, most inspiring poetic education that is -possible in our age." - -My mother's "religion" made her think reading any novel, or any kind of -work of fiction, absolutely wicked at this time, but Grannie took in -"Pickwick," which was coming out in numbers. She read it by her -dressing-room fire with closed doors, and her old maid, Cowbourne, well -on the watch against intruders--"elle prenait la peine de s'en divertir -avec tout le respect du monde;" and I used to pick the fragments out of -the waste-paper basket, piece them together, and read them too. - -Sundays were far less horrid at Stoke than at home, for Grannie -generally found something for me to do. Most primitive were the church -services, very different indeed from the ritualism which has reigned at -Stoke since, and which is sufficient to bring the old grandparents out -of their graves. In our day the Rectory-pew bore a carved inscription-- - - God prosper y^{e} Kynge long in thys lande - And grant that Papystrie never have y^{e} vper hande, - -but the present Rector has removed it. - -[Illustration: STOKE CHURCH.] - -I can see the congregation still in imagination, the old women in their -red cloaks and large black bonnets; the old men with their glistening -brass buttons, and each with his bunch of southern-wood--"old man"--to -snuff at. In my childhood the tunes of the hymns were always given with -a pitch-pipe. "Dame Dutton's School" used to be ranged round the altar, -and the grand old alabaster tomb of Sir Reginald Corbet, and if any of -the children behaved ill during the service, they were turned up and -soundly whipped then and there, their outcries mingling oddly with the -responses of the congregation. But in those days, now considered so -benighted, there was sometimes real devotion. People sometimes said real -prayers even in church, before the times since which the poor in village -churches are so frequently compelled to say their prayers to music. The -curates always came to luncheon at the Rectory on Sundays. They were -always compelled to come in ignominiously at the back door, lest they -should dirty the entrance: only Mr. Egerton was allowed to come in at -the front door, because he was "a gentleman born." How Grannie used to -bully the curates! They were expected not to talk at luncheon, if they -did they were soon put down. "Tea-table theology" was unknown in those -days. As soon as the curates had swallowed a proper amount of cold veal, -they were called upon to "give an account to Mrs. Leycester" of all that -they had done in the week in the four quarters of the parish--Eton, -Ollerton, Wistanswick, and Stoke--and soundly were they rated if their -actions did not correspond with her intentions. After the curates, came -the school-girls to practise their singing, and my mother was set down -to strum the piano by the hour together as an accompaniment, while -Grannie occupied herself in seeing that they opened their mouths wide -enough, dragging the mouths open by force, and, if they would not sing -properly, putting her fingers so far down their throats that she made -them sick. One day, when she was doing this, Margaret Beeston bit her -violently. Mr. Egerton was desired to talk to her afterwards about the -wickedness of her conduct. "How could you be such a naughty girl, -Margaret, as to bite Mrs. Leycester?"--"What'n her put her fingers down -my throat for? oi'll boite she harder next time," replied the impenitent -Margaret. - -Grannie used to talk of chaney (china), laylocks (lilacs), and gould -(gold): of the Prooshians and the Rooshians: of things being "plaguey -dear" or "plaguey bad." In my childhood, however, half my elders used -such expressions, which now seem to be almost extinct. "Obleege me by -passing the cowcumber," Uncle Julius always used to say. - -There were always three especial sources of turmoil at Stoke--the -curates, the butlers, and the gardeners. Grannie was very severe to all -her dependants, but to no one more than to three young lady _protégées_ -who lived with her in turn--Eliza Lathom, Emma Hunt, and Charlotte -Atkinson--whom she fed on skim-milk and dry bread, and treated so -harshly that the most adventurous and youngest of them, Charlotte -Atkinson,[25] ran away altogether, joined a party of strolling players, -and eventually married an actor (Mr. Tweedie). I remember Grannie going -down into the kitchen one day and scolding the cook till she could bear -it no longer, when she seized the dinner-bell from the shelf and rang it -in her ears till she ran out of the kitchen. When there was "a wash" at -Stoke, which was about every third week, it was a rule with Grannie -that, summer or winter, it must always begin at one A.M. At that hour -old Hannah Berry used to arrive from the village, the coppers were -heated and the maids at work. The ladies-maids, who were expected to do -all the fine muslins, &c., themselves, had also always to be at the -washtubs at three A.M.--by candlelight. If any one was late, the -housekeeper reported to Mrs. Leycester, who was soon down upon them -pretty sharply. Generally, however, her real practical kindness and -generosity prevented any one minding Mrs. Leycester's severity: it was -looked upon as only "her way;" for people were not so tender in those -days as they are now, and certainly no servant would have thought of -giving up a place which was essentially a good one because they were a -little roughly handled by their mistress. In those days servants were as -liable to personal chastisement as the children of the house, and would -as little have thought of resenting it. "You don't suppose I'm going to -hurt _my_ fingers in boxing _your_ ears," said Grannie, when about to -chastise the school children she was teaching, and she would take up a -book from the table and use it soundly, and then say, "Now, we mustn't -let the other ear be jealous," and turn the child round and lay on again -on the other side. Grannie constantly boxed her housemaids' ears, and -alas! when he grew very old, she used to box dear Grandpapa's, though -she loved him dearly, the great source of offence being that he would -sometimes slyly give the servant's elbow a tip when his daily -table-spoonful of brandy was being poured out. - -[Illustration: STOKE RECTORY--THE GARDEN SIDE.] - -As I have said, Grannie was quite devoted to Grandpapa, yet as she was -twenty years younger, his great age could not but accustom her to the -thought of his death, and she constantly talked before him, to his great -amusement, of what she should do as a widow. Judge Leycester ("Uncle -Hugh"), my grandfather's brother, had left her a house in New Street, -Spring Gardens, and whenever Mary Stanley went to Stoke, she used to -make her write down the different stages and distances to London to be -ready for her removal. Frequently the family used to be startled by a -tremendous "rat-a-tat-tat-tat," on the dining-room door. Grannie had -ordered Richard, the young footman, up, and was teaching him how to -give "a London knock"--it was well he should be prepared. One day the -party sitting in the drawing-room were astonished to see the family -carriage drive up to the door, with Spragg the butler on the box. "I was -only seeing how Spragg will look as coachman when your Grandpapa is -dead," said Grannie, and Grandpapa looked on at the arrangements and -enjoyed them heartily. - -As for dear Grandpapa himself, he was always happy. He would amuse -himself for hours in touching up in grey or brown his own (very feeble) -sketches in Switzerland or France. Being a great classical scholar, he -also read a great deal of Italian and Latin poetry, and addressed a -Latin ode to his daughter-in-law Lady Charlotte Penrhyn when he was in -his ninety-second year! This kind aunt of my childhood--"Aunt Nin," as I -always called her--was a very simple person, utterly without pretension, -but because she was Lord Derby's daughter, Grannie always treated her as -the great person of the family. When we went to Stoke, no difference -whatever was made in the house, the stair-carpets were not laid down, -and though the drawing-room was constantly lived in, its furniture was -all swathed in brown holland after the fashion of an uninhabited London -house. When the Stanleys or Leycesters of Toft came to Stoke, the -stair-carpet was put down and the _covers-covers_ were taken off; but on -the rare occasions when Aunt Penrhyn came to Stoke--oh sublime -moment!--the _covers_ themselves were taken off. - -From our constant winter walk--"the Rope Walk"--my mother and I could -see Hodnet Tower, of which Grandpapa had at one time been Rector as well -as of Stoke. Bishop Heber had been Rector before him, and in his time my -mother had found much of her chief happiness at Hodnet, from sources -which I did not understand, when I used so often to walk up and down -with her on Sundays, listening to the beautiful Hodnet bells. In my -childhood, Mrs. Cholmondeley was living at Hodnet Hall, having been Mary -Heber, the Bishop's sister. She was very kind to me, writing for my -instruction in English history a "Chapter of Kings," of which I can only -remember the two last lines, which were rather irreverent: - - "William the Fourth was a long time sick, - And then was succeeded by little Queen Vick." - -It was a great event at Stoke when my mother was allowed to have the -carriage, though what John Minshull the coachman generally did no one -could ever find out. If we drove, it was generally to Buntingsdale, a -fine old brick house of the last century standing at the end of a -terraced garden, with lime avenues above the Terne, near Market Drayton. -Here Mr. and Mrs. Tayleur lived with their four daughters--Mary, -Harriet, Lucy, and Emma, who were very severely brought up, though their -father was immensely rich. The old fashion was kept up at Buntingsdale -of all the daughters being expected to spend the whole morning with -their mother in the morning-room at work round a round table, and -formality in everything was the rule. Yet many of my childish pleasures -came from Buntingsdale, and I was always glad when we turned out of the -road and across some turnip-fields, which were then the odd approach to -the lime avenue on the steep bank above the shining Terne, and to see -the brilliant border of crocuses under the old garden wall as we drove -up to the house. The eldest daughter, Mary, who looked then like a -delicate china figure and always smelt of lavender and rose-leaves, used -to show me her shell cabinet and her butterflies, and teach me to -collect snail-shells! The bright energetic second daughter, Harriet, -drew capitally and encouraged my early interest in art. The other two -daughters, Lucy and Emma, died young, almost at the same time: my chief -recollection is of their bending over their eternal worsted-work, very -pale and fragile, and their passing away is one of my earliest -impressions of death. - -The other neighbours whom we saw most of were the Hills of Hawkestone, -then a very numerous family. Five of the brothers--Sir Rowland -(afterwards Lord Hill), Sir Robert, Sir Francis, Sir Noel, and Colonel -Clement Hill, were in the battle of Waterloo, and my mother has often -described to me the sickening suspense in watching for the postman after -the first news of the engagement had come, with the almost certainty -that at least some of the brothers must be killed. Miss Emma was deputed -to receive the news, as the sister of strongest nerve, but when she -heard that all her brothers were safe (only Sir Robert being slightly -wounded), she fainted away. Lord Hill used to ride to see my Grandfather -upon the charger he rode at Waterloo, which horse had such a reputation, -that people would come from great distances more even to see the horse -than Lord Hill himself. In earlier days, the family at Hawkestone used -to be likened to that of the Osbaldistons in "Rob Roy"--and had all the -same elements--the chaplain, the soldiers, the sportsmen, the -fox-hunter, the fisherman, and in Rachel (daughter of the Colonel Hill -who was killed by a fall from his horse) a very handsome Diana Vernon, -with frank natural manners: people called her "the Rose of Hawkestone." -My mother often used to recall how remarkable it was that though, when -gathered at home, the family seemed to have no other purpose than to -pursue the amusements of a country life, when called on by their country -to go forth in her service, none of her sons were so brave, none more -self-devoted, than the Hill brothers. - -When all the family were at Hawkestone, they dined early and had a hot -supper at nine o'clock. As the family interests were confined to -sporting, the conversation was not very lively, and was relieved by the -uncles endeavouring to provoke each other and the young ones--to yawn! -no very difficult task, seeing they had nothing to do. The eldest Miss -Hill (Maria) was a very primitive-looking person, with hair cut short, -and always insisted upon sitting alone at a side-table that no one might -see her eat; but I cannot remember whether she was alive in my time, or -whether I have only heard of her. Even in the days of a comparative -inattention to those niceties of feminine attire now universally -attended to, the extraordinary head-gear worn by the Misses Hill, their -tight gowns, and homely appearance, were matter for general remark. But -if they lacked in these points, they vied with their brothers in the -possession of brave hearts and loving sympathies--"Every eye blessed -them: every tongue gave witness" to their active benevolence. - -In true patriarchal style, the six children of the eldest of the Hill -brothers were brought up with the uncles and aunts at Hawkestone Hall, -nor was any change made when the father's sudden death left a young -widow to be tended with all the kindness of real brethren in the old -family home. At length the grandfather died, and Sir Rowland, then about -eighteen, succeeded. But when his affairs were inquired into, it was -found, that in consequence of very serious losses in a county bankruptcy -and from mismanagement of the estate, there was a heavy debt upon the -property, which, at best, it would take years to liquidate. A plan of -rescue presented itself to Mrs. Hill, the young baronet's mother, who -was a clever and kind-hearted woman, but lacked the simplicity of her -sisters-in-law. A rich merchant, a Mr. Clegg from Manchester, had -bought the estate adjoining Hawkestone. His only grand-daughter was then -scarcely more than a child; but it was as great an object of desire to -old Mr. Clegg to ally his child with an ancient and respected family and -to procure for her the rank and station which his gold could not obtain, -as it was to Mrs. Hill to replenish her son's empty treasury, and enable -him to keep up the family place. A compact for the future was soon -settled. In a few years, however, the fatal illness of Mr. Clegg obliged -Mrs. Hill to hurry matters, and over her grandfather's deathbed Sir -Rowland was married to the girl of fifteen. Immediately after the -ceremony Mr. Clegg died. Mrs. Hill then took the girl-bride home, and -educated her with her own niece, no one suspecting her secret. Sir -Rowland went abroad. When two years had elapsed, Mrs. Hill also went -abroad with "Miss Clegg"--who returned as the wife of Sir Rowland, -received with great festivities. The marriage was a most happy one. The -unassuming gentleness of the lady was as great as if she had been born -in the station to which she was called: and in the charities of social -and domestic life and the exercise of the widest-hearted benevolence to -all around her, she long reigned at Hawkestone.[26] Her son Rowland was -only a year older than myself, and was the nearest approach to a -boy-acquaintance that I had quite as a child. - -Hawkestone was and is one of the most enchanting places in England. -There, the commonplace hedges and fields of Shropshire are broken by a -ridge of high red sandstone cliffs most picturesque in form and colour, -and overgrown by old trees with a deep valley between them, where great -herds of deer feed in the shadow. On one side is a grotto, and a -marvellous cavern--"the Druid's Cave"--in which I used to think a live -Druid, a guide dressed up in white with a wreath, appearing through the -yellow light, most bewildering and mysterious. On the other side of the -valley rise some castellated ruins called "the Red Castle." There was a -book at Stoke Rectory about the history of this castle in the reign of -King Arthur, which made it the most interesting place in the world to -me, and I should no more have thought of questioning the fight of Sir -Ewaine and Sir Hue in the valley, and the reception of the former by -"the Lady of the Rock," and the rescue of Sir Gawaine from the gigantic -Carados by Sir Lancelot, than I should have thought of attacking--well, -the divine legation of Moses. But even if the earlier stories of the Red -Castle are contradicted, the associations with Lord Audley and the -battle of Blore Heath would always give it a historic interest. - -Over one of the deep ravines which ran through the cliff near the Red -Castle was "the Swiss Bridge"--Aunt Kitty painted it in oils. Beneath -it, in a conical summer-house--"the Temple of Health"--an old woman used -to sit and sell packets of ginger-bread--"Drayton ginger-bread"--of -which I have often bought a packet since for association's sake. - -But the most charming expedition of all from Stoke was when, once every -year, I was sent to pay a visit to the Goldstone Farm, where the mother -of my dear nurse Mary Lea lived. It was an old-fashioned farmhouse of -the better class, black and white, with a large house-place and a cool -parlour beyond it, with old pictures and furniture. In front, on the -green, under an old cherry-tree, stood a grotto of shells, and beyond -the green an open common on the hillside covered with heath and gorse, -and where cranberries were abundant in their season. Behind, was a large -garden, with grass walks and abundance of common flowers and fruit. -Dear old Mrs. Lea was charming, and full of quaint proverbs and sayings, -all, as far as I remember them, of a very ennobling nature. With her -lived her married daughter, Hannah Challinor, a very fat good-natured -farmeress. Words cannot describe the fuss these good people made over -me, or my own dear Lea's pride in helping to do the honours of her home, -or the excellent tea, with cream and cakes and jam, which was provided. -After Mrs. Lea's death, poor Mrs. Challinor fell into impoverished -circumstances, and was obliged to leave Goldstone, though the pain of -doing so almost cost her her life. I was then able for many years to -return in a measure the kindness shown me so long before. - -Long after the railway was made which passed by Whitmore (within a long -drive of Stoke), we continued to go in our own carriage, posting, to -Shropshire. Gradually my mother consented to go in her own carriage, on -a truck, by rail as far as Birmingham; farther she could not endure it. -Later still, nearly the whole journey was effected by rail, but in our -own chariot. At last we came to use the ordinary railway carriages, but -then, for a long time, we used to have post-horses to meet us at some -station near London: my mother would not be known to enter London in a -railway carriage--"it was so excessively improper" (the sitting opposite -strangers in the same carriage); so we entered the metropolis "by land," -as it was called in those early days of railway travelling. - -On returning to Lime in the spring of 1841, I was sent to Mr. Green's -school, a commercial school at Windmill Hill, about a mile off. I used -to ride to the school on my little pony "Gentle," much to the envy of -the schoolboys; and in every way a most invidious distinction was made -between me and them, which I daresay would have been thoroughly avenged -upon me had I remained with them during play-hours; but I was only there -from nine to twelve, doing my lessons at one of the great oak desks in -the old-fashioned schoolroom. I chiefly remember of the school the -abominable cases of favouritism that there were, and that if one of the -ushers took a dislike to a boy, he was liable to be most unmercifully -caned for faults for which another boy was scarcely reproved. In the -autumn, when we went to Rockend, I was sent to another school at -Torquay, a Mr. Walker's, where I was much more roughly handled, the -master being a regular tartar. I remember a pleasant, handsome boy -called Ray, who sat by me in school and helped me out of many a scrape, -but Mr. Walker was very violent, and as he was not allowed to beat me as -much as he did the other boys, he soon declined teaching me at all. - -The railway from London to Brighton was now just opened, and we took -advantage of it. As we reached Merstham (by the first morning train) the -train stopped, and we were all made to get out, for the embankment had -fallen in in front of us. It was pouring in torrents of rain, and the -line muddy and slippery to a degree. We all had to climb the slippery -bank through the yellow mud. I was separated from my mother and Lea and -Uncle Julius, who was with us, but found them again in a desolate house, -totally unfurnished, where all the passengers by the train were -permitted to take refuge. It was the place whither I have gone in later -days to visit Lord Hylton. Here we sat on the boarded floor, with very -little food, in a great room looking upon some dripping -portugal-laurels, all through the long weary day till four in the -afternoon, when omnibuses arrived to take us to another station beyond -the broken line. We did not reach Brighton till nine P.M., and when we -arrived at the station and inquired after our carriages, which were to -have met us at mid-day and taken us home, we heard that a bad accident -had taken place; one of the horses had run away, one of the carriages -been overturned down a steep bank, and one of the servants had his arm -broken. We remained at Brighton in some anxiety till Monday, when we -found that it was my uncle's horse "Steady" which had run away, and his -faithful old servant Collins who was injured. - -When my uncle was driving himself, these accidents were so frequent that -we scarcely thought anything of them, as he drove so carelessly and -talked vehemently or composed his sermons or charges all the way. But if -the family had an accident on their way to church, they always returned -thanks for their preservation, which made quite a little excitement in -the service. I remember one occasion on which my mother and aunt did not -appear as usual, when a note was handed to Uncle Julius as he came out -of the vestry, upon which thanks were returned for the "merciful -preservation of Lucy and Maria Hare and Staunton Collins" (the -coachman)--and all the Rectory servants and all the Lime servants -immediately walked out of church to look after the wounded or--because -they were too excited to stay! The horse had taken fright at a gipsy -encampment in the marsh lane and the family had been precipitated into -the ditch. - -At this time Uncle Julius had been made one of the Poor Law Guardians -and had to visit at the workhouse, and there was the most ceaseless -ferment and outcry against him. All sorts of stories were got up. One -was that he was going to put all the children into a boat and take them -out to sink them in Pevensey Bay! One day old Betty Lusted went up to -the Rectory and asked to see the Archdeacon. He went out to her: "Well, -Betty, and what do you want?"--"I want to know, zur, if you do know the -Scripture."--"Well, Betty, I hope I do, but why do you ask?"--"Because -if you _do_ know the Scripture, how coomes it that you doona zee--'them -whom God hath joined together let na man put asunder'?" (apropos of the -separation of husbands and wives in the workhouse); and though she was a -poor half-witted body, she brought the tears into his eyes. I remember -his asking her daughter Polly once what she prayed for every night and -morning. "Well, zur, I do pray for a new pair of shoes," replied Polly, -without the slightest hesitation. - -Uncle Julius would have given the world to have been able to talk easily -and sympathetically to his people, but he could not get the words out. -Sick people in the parish used to say, "The Archdeacon he do come to us, -and he do sit by the bed and hold our hands, and he do growl a little, -but he do zay nowt." - -One day he heard that a family named Woodhams were in great affliction. -It was just after poor Haydon had committed suicide, and he took down -Wordsworth's sonnet on Haydon, and read it to them by way of comfort. Of -course they had never heard of Haydon, and had not an idea what it was -all about.[27] - -It was on our way from Norwich to Stoke in the autumn of 1841 that I -made my first sketch from nature. We slept at Bedford, to meet Charles -Stanley there, and I drew Bedford Bridge out of the window--a view made -by candlelight of a bridge seen by moonlight--but it was thought -promising and I was encouraged to proceed. My mother, who drew admirably -herself, gave me capital simple lessons, and in every way fostered my -love of the picturesque. Indeed Hurstmonceaux itself did this, with its -weird views across the levels to the faint blue downs, and its noble -ruined castle. Of the stories connected with this castle I could never -hear enough, and Uncle Julius told them delightfully. But the one I -cared for most was of our remote ancestress Sybil Filiol, who lived at -Old Court Manor in the reign of Edward II., I think. Uncle Julius used -to describe how, after her marriage in Wartling Church, she went to take -leave of her dead father's garden (before riding away upon a pillion -behind her husband), and, whilst there, was carried off by gipsies. Her -husband and other members of her family pursued them, but in those days -locomotion was difficult, escape in the Cheviot Hills easy, and she was -never heard of again.[28] How well I remember the pictorial description -of a strange funeral seen approaching over the hills--"the gipsies of -the north" bringing back the body of Sybil Filiol to be buried with her -ancestors at Wartling, and the story of how her husband devoted her -dowry to making "Sybil Filiol's Way," a sort of stone causeway to -Hurstmonceaux Church, of which I delighted to trace the old grey stones -near Boreham Street and in the Church Lane. - -Our cousin Anna Maria Shipley, who had been cruelly married by her -father against her will to the savage paralytic Mr. Dashwood, and who -had been very many years a widow, had, in 1838, made a second marriage -with an old neighbour, Mr. Jones, who, however, lived only a year. In -1840, she married as her third husband the Rev. George Chetwode, and -died herself in the year following. Up to the time of her death, it was -believed and generally understood that the heirs of her large fortune -were the children of her cousin Francis,[29] but it was then discovered -that two days before she expired, she had made a will in pencil in -favour of Mr. Chetwode, leaving all she possessed in his power. This -news was an additional shock to my father, who had never recovered the -will of Mrs. Louisa Shipley, and he passed the winter of 1841 at Palermo -in the utmost melancholy. When he first arrived, he gave a few dinners, -but after that, says Victoire, he seemed to have a presentiment of his -end, though the doctors declared that he was not dangerously ill. For -several nights in February Félix sate up with him. Mr. Hare wished to -send him to bed, "mais Félix repondit, 'Rappelez-vous, monsieur, que je -suis ancien militaire, et que quand j'ai une consigne, je ne la quitte -jamais;'" and then he opposed Félix no longer. "One morning at five -o'clock A.M.," said Madame Victoire, "he asked Félix what o'clock it -was. Félix told him. Then he said, 'Dans une demi-heure j'aurais mon -lait d'ânesse,' parceque l'ânesse venait à six heures.... Puis il -commence à faire jour, et Félix se met à arranger un peu la chambre. Se -trouvant à la fenêtre, il entend M. Hare faire un mouvement dans le lit: -Félix regarde de près, il écoute, il touche: M. Hare venait de finir." - -My father was buried in the English Cemetery at Palermo, where there is -a plain sarcophagus over his grave. The English Consul sent the -following certificate to Mrs. Hare:-- - - "On Saturday, the 15th January, 1842, the remains of the late - Francis George Hare, Esquire, were interred in the Protestant - Burial Ground at the Lazzaret of Palermo, in the presence of a - large concourse of Sicilian noblemen, and of the British, French, - and American residents. The service of the church was read by the - Rev. W. F. Holt, and the pall was supported by the Principino of - Lardoria, the Prince of Radali, the American Consul, and Mr. J. F. - Turner. As a token of respect to the memory of the deceased, the - flags of the British, French, and American vessels were hoisted - half-mast high during the forenoon." - -The summer was spent by the Marcus Hares at the Rectory--one of those -intensely hot summers which I never remember since my childhood, when we -gasped through the day, and lay at night under bowers of ash-boughs to -keep off the torment of gnats, which used then to be as bad at -Hurstmonceaux as I have since known mosquitoes in Italy. Of my cousins I -preferred Theodore, who was a very engaging little child. I remember -Uncle Julius coming out with tears streaming down his cheeks, and an -open letter in his hand, one day when all the family were sitting under -the trees. It was the news of the death of Dr. Arnold of Rugby. - -In the autumn Mrs. Hare came with her children to spend some time at -Hurstmonceaux Rectory. It was then arranged that I should call her -"Italima" (being a corruption of "Italian Mama"), and by that name I -will henceforth speak of her in these memoirs, but this must not be -taken to imply any greater intimacy, as she never treated me familiarly -or with affection. I remember the party arriving in their black -dress--Italima, Francis, William, Esmeralda, Mr. Gaebler--the admirable -tutor, Félix, Victoire, and Clémence--my sister's maid. My sister, as a -little child, was always called "the Tigress," but as she grew older, -her cousin Lord Normanby remonstrated at this. "Then give her another -name," said Italima. "Esmeralda,"--and Esmeralda she was now always -called. - -Italima must have found it intensely dull at the Rectory. She used to -walk daily to Gardner Street, where the sight of "_somebody_" and the -village shops was a consolation to her. She used to make my sister -practise on the pianoforte for hours, and if she did not play well she -shut her up for the rest of the day in a dressing-room, and I used to go -and push fairy-stories to her under the door. Though she was so severe -to my sister, she resented exceedingly any scoldings which Uncle Julius -gave to Francis, who richly deserved them, and was terribly spoilt. He -was, however, as beautiful as a boy as my sister was as a girl, and a -wonderfully graceful pair they made when they danced the tarantella -together in the evenings. Altogether my own brothers and sister being as -children infinitely more attractive than the Marcus Hares', I was much -happier with them, which was terribly resented in the family, and any -sign I gave of real enjoyment was always followed by some privation, for -fear I should be over-excited by it. Mr. Gaebler was a most pleasant and -skilful tutor, and I found it delightful to do lessons with him, and -made immense progress in a few weeks: but _because_ his teaching was -pleasant, it was supposed that the "discipline" of lessons was wanting, -and I was not long allowed to go on learning from him. In the afternoons -we were all made to go to the school and practise ridiculous Hullah -singing, which we loathed. - -The Bunsens were now living at Hurstmonceaux Place. Bunsen had been -Minister for Prussia at Rome at the time of my birth and the death of my -uncle Augustus Hare, and had then become very intimate with my mother, -as he had previously been with my uncle. Therefore, when he became -Minister in London and wanted a country-house, Hurstmonceaux Place, -which was then to let, seemed wonderfully suited to his requirements. -The great distance from London, however (the railway then coming no -nearer than Brighton, twenty-four miles off) prevented the Bunsens from -remaining more than two years at Hurstmonceaux; but during this time -they added much to our happiness, and, child as I was, I was conscious -of the vivifying influence which their refinement, their liberal views, -and hightoned conversation brought into the narrow circle at -Hurstmonceaux, which being so much and so often cut off from outer -influences, was becoming more and more of a Mutual Admiration Society. -In the many loving daughters of the house, my mother found willing -helpers in all her work amongst the poor, while the cheerful wisdom and -unfailing spirit of Madame Bunsen made her the most delightful of -companions. For several months I went every morning to Hurstmonceaux -Place, and did all my lessons with Theodore Bunsen, who was almost my -own age, under the care of his German tutor, Herr Deimling. - -It must have been in 1841, I think, that Bunsen inoculated my uncle and -mother with the most enthusiastic interest in the foundation of the -Bishopric of Jerusalem, being himself perfectly convinced that it would -be the Church thus founded which would meet the Saviour at his second -coming. Esther Maurice, by a subscription amongst the ladies of Reading, -provided the robes of the new Bishop. - -In the spring of 1843 I was dreadfully ill with the whooping-cough, -which I caught (as I had done the chicken-pox before) from my mother's -numerous parochial godchildren, when they came to Lime for their -lessons. When I was better we went for three days in our own carriage to -the Mount Ephraim Hotel at Tunbridge Wells. It was my first "tour," and -it was with rapture that I saw Mayfield Palace, Bayham Abbey, and the -High Rocks, on our way to which Lea and I were run away with by our -donkeys. - -When the Marcus Hares were not at the Rectory, Uncle Julius in these -years had a wonderfully varied society there, of whom we always saw more -or less--German philosophers, American philologists, English -astronomers, politicians, poets. Amongst those I particularly disliked -were Whewell and Thirlwall--so icily cold were their manners. Bunsen, -Star, Archdeacon Moore, Prentiss the American, Darley, Hull, I liked; -but Professor Sedgwick I was quite devoted to.[30] He "threw a mantle of -love over every one;"[31] and nothing could be more charming than his -stories, more attractive and interesting than his conversation, -especially with children, with whom he took pains to "be agreeable." I -saw so many people of this kind, that I used to think that what I heard -called "society" was all like these specimens: I was very much mistaken. -A visit from the gentle and amiable Copley Fielding early encouraged my -love of art. He greatly admired the peculiar scenery of -Hurstmonceaux--the views from the churchyard, so like the descent upon -the marshes of Ostia; the burnt uplands of the old deer-park; the long -flat reaches of blue-green level; and the hazy distant downs, which were -especially after his own heart. There was one view of the castle towers -seen from behind, and embossed against the delicate hues of the level, -which he used to make a frequent study of, and which my mother and -uncle ever after called "Copley Fielding's view." - -[Illustration: HURSTMONCEAUX.] - -Amongst other visitors of this year, I must mention our cousin Penelope, -Mrs. Warren (eldest daughter of Dean Shipley and sister of Mrs. Dashwood -and Mrs. Heber), who spent some days at the Rectory with her daughters, -because under her protection I had my only sight of the upper part of -Hurstmonceaux Castle. One of the staircases remained then, and the -timbers of many of the upper rooms were left, though the floors were -gone. One day we were with my mother and uncle in the ruins, and they -were saying how no one would ever see the upper floor again, when, to -their horror, Mrs. Warren seized me in her arms and darted up the -staircase. "Look, child, look!" she said, "for no one will ever see this -again," and she leapt with me from beam to beam. I recollect the old -chimney-pieces, the falling look of everything. It was wonderful that we -came down safe; the staircase was removed immediately after, that no one -might follow in our footsteps. - -I remember Carlyle coming to stay at the Rectory, where they did not -like him much. He came in a high hat--every one wore high hats then. The -day he arrived, the wind blew his hat off into a ditch as he was -getting over a stile: and he went off at once into one of his unbounded -furies against "the most absurd outrageous head-covering in the world, -which the vanity of the Prince Regent had caused people to adopt." - -Aunt Lucy and the Maurices had long urged my mother to send me to -school, and perhaps in many ways my terrible fits of naughtiness made it -desirable, though they chiefly arose from nervousness, caused by the -incessant "nagging" I received at home from every one except my mother -and Lea. But the choice of the school to which I was sent at nine years -old was very unfortunate. When illness had obliged my Uncle Augustus -Hare to leave his beloved little parish of Alton Barnes for Italy, a -Rev. Robert Kilvert came thither as his temporary curate--a very -religious man, deeply learned in ultra "evangelical" divinity, but -strangely unpractical and with no knowledge whatever of the world--still -less of the boyish part of it. As Dr. John Brown once said--"The grace -of God can do muckle, but it canna gie a man common-sense." Mr. Kilvert -was a good scholar, but in the dryest, hardest sense; of literature he -knew nothing, and he was entirely without originality or cleverness, so -that his knowledge was of the most untempting description. Still his -letters to my mother in her early widowhood had been a great comfort to -her, and there was no doubt of his having been a thoroughly good -parish-priest. He had lately married a Miss Coleman, who derived the -strange name of Thermuthis from the daughter of Pharaoh who saved Moses -out of the bulrushes, and he had opened a small school at his tiny -Rectory of Hardenhuish, or, as it was generally called, Harnish, the -estate of the Clutterbucks, near Chippenham in Wiltshire; so my mother, -thinking it of far more importance to select "a good man" than "a good -master," determined to send me there. How often since have I seen the -terrible mistake of parents in "packing off" children to a distant -school, to be entirely in the hands of masters of whose practical -influence and social competence for their duties they know nothing -whatever! - -My own experience of Harnish is one of the many instances I have known -of how little the character of the head of an establishment affects the -members of it, unless his spirituality is backed up by a thorough -knowledge of the world. The greater portion of Mr. Kilvert's -scholars--his "little flock of lambs in Christ's fold"--were a set of -little monsters. All infantine immoralities were highly popular, and--in -such close quarters--it would have been difficult for the most pure and -high-minded boy to escape from them. The first evening I was there, at -nine years old, I was compelled to eat Eve's apple quite up--indeed, the -Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil was stripped absolutely bare: -there was no fruit left to gather. - -I wonder if children often go through the intense agony of anguish which -I went through when I was separated from my mother. Perhaps not, as few -children are brought up so entirely by and with their parents in such -close companionship. It was leaving my mother that I minded, not the -going to school, to which my misery was put down: though, as I had never -had any companions, the idea of being left suddenly amongst a horde of -young savages was anything but comforting. But my nervous temperament -was tortured with the idea that my mother would die before I saw her -again (I had read a story of this kind), that our life was over, that my -aunts would persuade her to cease to care for me,--indeed, the anguish -was so great and so little understood, that though it is more than fifty -years ago, as I write this, I can scarcely bear to think of it. - - - - -III - -BOYHOOD - -1843-1848 - - "The more we live, more brief appear - Our life's returning stages: - A day to childhood seems an year, - And years like passing ages." - - --THOMAS CAMPBELL. - - "Oh if, in time of sacred youth, - We learned at home to love and pray, - Pray Heaven that early Love and Truth - May never wholly pass away." - - --THACKERAY. - - -My mother took me to Harnish Rectory on July 28, 1843. The aspect of Mr. -Kilvert, his tall figure, and red hair encircling a high bald forehead, -was not reassuring, nor were any temptations offered by my companions -(who were almost entirely of a rich middle class), or by the playground, -which was a little gravelled courtyard--the stable-yard, in fact--at the -back of the house. The Rectory itself was a small house, pleasantly -situated on a hill, near an odd little Wrenian church which stood in a -well-kept churchyard. We were met at Harnish by Mrs. Pile, who, as -daughter of an Alton farmer, was connected with the happiest period of -my mother's life, and while I was a prey to the utmost anguish, talking -to her prevented my mother from thinking much about parting with me. - -One miserable morning Mr. Kilvert, Mrs. Pile, and I went with my mother -and Lea to the station at Chippenham. Terrible indeed was the moment -when the train came up and I flung myself first into Lea's arms and then -into my mother's. Mrs. Pile did her best to comfort me--but ... there -_was_ no comfort. - -Several boys slept in a room together at Harnish. In mine there was at -first only one other, who was one of the greatest boy-blackguards I ever -came across--wicked, malicious, and hypocritical. He made my life -indescribably miserable. One day, however, whilst we were wearily -plodding through our morning lessons, I saw a pleasant gentleman-like -boy come through the gate, who was introduced to us as Alick MacSween. -He was thirteen, so much older than any of the others, and he was very -good-looking, at least we thought so then, and we used to apply to him -the line in our Syntax-- - - "Ingenui vultus puer ingenuique pudoris." - -It was a great joy to find myself transferred to his room, and he soon -became a hero in my eyes. Imagination endowed him with every grace, and -I am sure, on looking back, that he really was a very nice boy. -Gradually I had the delight of feeling assured that Alick liked me as -much as I liked him. We became everything to each other, and shared our -"lockers" in school, and our little gardens in play-hours. Our affection -made sunshine in the dreariness. My one dread was that Alick would some -day like another boy better than he liked me. It happened. Then, at ten -years old, life was a blank. Soon afterwards Alick left the school, and -a little later, before he was fifteen, I heard that he was dead. It was -a dumb sorrow, which I could speak to no one, for no one would have -understood it, not even my mother. It is all in the dim distance of the -long ago. I could not realise what Alick would be if he was alive, but -my mind's eye sees him now as he was then, as if it were yesterday: I -mourn him still. - -Mr. Kilvert, as I have said, was deeply "religious," but he was very -hot-tempered, and slashed our hands with a ruler and our bodies with a -cane most unmercifully for exceedingly slight offences. So intense, so -abject was our terror of him, that we used to look forward as to an -oasis to the one afternoon when he went to his parish duties, and Mrs. -Kilvert or her sister Miss Sarah Coleman attended to the school, for, as -the eldest boy was not thirteen, we were well within their capacities. -The greater part of each day was spent in lessons, and oh! what trash we -were wearisomely taught; but from twelve to one we were taken out for a -walk, when we employed the time in collecting all kinds of rubbish--bits -of old tobacco-pipe, &c.--to make "museums." - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "DARLING MAMA,--I like it rather better than I expected. They have - killed a large snake by stoning it, and Gumbleton has skinned it, - such nasty work, and peged it on a board covered with butter and - pepper, and layed it out in the sun to dry. It is going to be - stuffed. Do you know I have been in the vault under the church. It - is so dark. There are great big coffins there. The boy's chief game - is robbers. Give love and 8 thousand kisses to Lea and love to the - Grannies. Good-bye darling Mama." - - "Frederick Leuis has been very ill of crop. Do you know what that - is? I have been to the school-feast at Mr. Clutterbuck's. It was so - beautifull. All the girls were seated round little round tables - amongst beds of geraniums, heltrope, verbenas, and balm of Gilead. - We carried the tea and were called in to grapes and gooseberries, - and we played at thread-the-needle and went in a swing and in a - flying boat. Good-bye Mamma." - - - "MY DEAR MAMMA,--The boys have got two dear little rabbits. They - had two wood-pigeons, but they died a shocking death, being eaten - of worms, and there was a large vault made in which was interred - their bodies, and that of a dear little mouse who died too. All - went into mourning for it." - - - "MY DEAR MAMMA,--We have been a picknick at a beautiful place - called Castlecomb. When we got there we went to see the dungeon. - Then we saw a high tower half covered with ivy. You must know that - Castlecomb is on the top of an emense hill, so that you have to - climb hands and knees. When we sate down to tea, our things rolled - down the hill. We rambled about and gathered nuts, for the trees - were loaded. In the town there is a most beautiful old carved cross - and a church. Good-bye darling Mamma." - - - "_Nov. 11._--I will tell you a day at Mr. Kilvert's. I get up at - half-past six and do lessons for the morning. Then at eight - breakfast. Then go out till half-past nine. Then lessons till - eleven. Then go out till a quarter-past eleven. Then lessons till - 12, go a walk till 2 dinner. Lessons from half-past three, writing, - sums, or dictation. From 5 till 6 play. Tea. Lessons from 7 to 8. - Bed. I have collected two thousand stamps since I was here. Do you - ever take your pudding to the poor women on Fridays now? Goodbye - darling Mamma." - -As the holidays approached, I became ill with excitement and joy, but -all through the half years at Harnish I always kept a sort of map on -which every day was represented as a square to be filled up when lived -through. Oh, the dreary sight of these spaces on the first days: the -ecstasy when only one or two squares remained white! - - _From_ MY MOTHER'S JOURNAL. - - "When I arrived at Harnish, Augustus was looking sadly ill. As the - Rectory door was opened, the dear boy stood there, and when he saw - us, he could not speak, but the tears flowed down his cheeks. After - a while he began to show his joy at seeing us." - -The Marcus Hares were at Hurstmonceaux all the winter, and a terrible -trial it was to me, as my Aunt Lucy was more jealous than ever of any -kind word being spoken to me. But I had some little pleasures when I was -at Hurstmonceaux Place with the large merry family of the Bunsens, who -had a beautiful Christmas-tree. - -There is nothing to tell of my school-life during the next year, though -my mind dwells drearily on the long days of uninstructive lessons in -the close hot schoolroom when so hopelessly "nous suyons à grosses -gouttes," as Mme. de Sévigné says; or on the monotonous confinement in -the narrow court which was our usual playground; and my recollection -shrinks from the reign of terror under which we lived. In the summer I -was delivered from Hurstmonceaux, going first with my mother to our dear -Stoke home, which I had never seen before in all its wealth of summer -flowers, and proceeding thence to the English lakes, where the delight -of the flowers and the sketching was intense. But our pleasure was not -unalloyed, for, though Uncle Julius accompanied us, my mother took -Esther Maurice with her, wishing to give her a holiday after her hard -work in school-teaching at Reading, and never foreseeing, what every one -else foresaw, that Uncle Julius, who had always a passion for -governesses, would certainly propose to her. Bitter were the tears which -my mother shed when this result--to her alone unexpected--actually took -place. It was the most dismal of betrothals: Esther sobbed and cried, my -mother sobbed and cried, Uncle Julius sobbed and cried daily. I used to -see them sitting holding each other's hands and crying on the banks of -the Rotha. - -These scenes for the most part took place at Foxhow, where we paid a -long visit to Mrs. Arnold, whose children were delightful companions to -me. Afterwards we rented a small damp house near Ambleside--Rotha -Cottage--for some weeks, but I was very ill from its unhealthiness, and -terribly ill afterwards at Patterdale from the damp of the place. -Matthew Arnold, then a very handsome young man, was always excessively -kind to me, and I often had great fun with him and his brothers, but he -was not considered then to give any promise of the intellectual powers -he showed afterwards. From Foxhow and Rotha Cottage we constantly -visited Wordsworth and his dear old wife at Rydal Mount, and we walked -with him to the Rydal Falls. He always talked a good deal about himself -and his own poems, and I have a sense of his being not vain, but -conceited. I have been told since, in confirmation of this, that when -Milton's watch--preserved somewhere--was shown to him, he instantly and -involuntarily drew out his own watch, and compared, not the watches, but -the poets. The "severe creator of immortal things," as Landor called -him, read us some of his verses admirably,[32] but I was too young at -this time to be interested in much of his conversation, unless it was -about the wild-flowers, to which he was devoted, as I was. I think that -at Keswick we also saw Southey, but I do not remember him, though I -remember his (very ugly) house very well. In returning south we saw -Chester, and paid a visit to an old cousin of my mother's--"Dosey -(Theodosia) Leigh," who had many quaint sayings. In allusion to her own -maiden state, she would often complacently quote the old Cheshire -proverb--"Bout's bare but it's yezzy."[33] While at Chester, though I -forget how, I first became conscious how difficult the having Esther -Maurice for an aunt would make everything in life to me. I was, however, -at her wedding in November at Reading. - -The winter of 1844-45 was the first of many which were made unutterably -wretched by "Aunt Esther." Aunt Lucy had chastised me with rods, Aunt -Esther did indeed chastise me with scorpions. Aunt Lucy was a very -refined person, and a very charming and delightful companion to those -she loved, and, had she loved me, I should have been devoted to her. -Aunt Esther was, from her own personal characteristics, a person I never -could have loved. Yet my uncle was now entirely ruled by her, and my -gentle mother considered her interference in everything as a cross which -was "sent to her" to be meekly endured. The society at the Rectory was -now entirely changed: all the relations of the Hare family, except the -Marcus Hares, were given to understand that their visits were unwelcome, -and the house was entirely filled with the relations of Aunt Esther--old -Mr. and Mrs. Maurice; their married daughter Lucilla Powell, with her -husband and children; their unmarried daughters--Mary, Priscilla, and -Harriet[34]--Priscilla, who now never left her bed, and who was -violently sick after everything she ate (yet with the most enormous -appetite), often for many months together. - -With the inmates of the house, the whole "tone" of the Rectory society -was changed. It was impossible entirely to silence Uncle Julius, yet at -times even he was subdued by his new surroundings, the circle around him -being incessantly occupied with the trivialities of domestic or -parochial detail, varied by the gossip of such a tenth-rate provincial -town as Reading, or reminiscences of the boarding-school which had been -their occupation and pride for so many years. Frequently also the spare -rooms were filled by former pupils--"young ladies" of a kind who would -announce their engagement by "The infinite grace of God has put it into -the heart of his servant Edmund to propose to me," or "I have been led -by the mysterious workings of God's providence to accept the hand of -Edgar,"[35]--expressions which Aunt Esther, who wrote good and simple -English herself, would describe as touching evidences of a Christian -spirit in her younger friends. - -But what was far more trying to me was, that in order to prove that her -marriage had made no difference in the sisterly and brotherly relations -which existed between my mother and Uncle Julius, Aunt Esther insisted -that my mother should dine at the Rectory _every_ night, and as, in -winter, the late return in an open carriage was impossible, this -involved our sleeping at the Rectory and returning home every morning in -the bitter cold before breakfast. The hours after five o'clock in every -day of the much-longed-for, eagerly counted holidays, were now absolute -purgatory. Once landed at the Rectory, I was generally left in a dark -room till dinner at seven o'clock, for candles were never allowed in -winter in the room where I was left alone. After dinner I was never -permitted to amuse myself, or to do _anything_, except occasionally to -net. If I spoke, Aunt Esther would say with a satirical smile, "As if -you ever _could_ say anything worth hearing, as if it was ever -_possible_ that any one could want to hear what you have to say." If I -took up a book, I was told instantly to put it down again, it was -"disrespect to my Uncle." If I murmured, Aunt Esther, whose temper was -absolutely unexcitable, quelled it by her icy rigidity. Thus gradually I -got into the habit of absolute silence at the Rectory--a habit which it -took me years to break through: and I often still suffer from the want -of self-confidence engendered by reproaches and taunts which never -ceased: for a day--for a week--for a year they would have been nothing: -but for _always_, with no escape but my own death or that of my -tormentor! Water dripping for ever on a stone wears through the stone at -last. - -The cruelty which I received from my new aunt was repeated in various -forms by her sisters, one or other of whom was always at the Rectory. -Only Priscilla, touched by the recollection of many long visits during -my childhood at Lime, occasionally sent a kindly message or spoke a -kindly word to me from her sick-bed, which I repaid by constant -offerings of flowers. Most of all, however, did I feel the conduct of -Mary Maurice, who, by pretended sympathy and affection, wormed from me -all my little secrets--how miserable my uncle's marriage had made my -home-life, how I never was alone with my mother now, &c.--and repeated -the whole to Aunt Esther. - -From this time Aunt Esther resolutely set herself to subdue me -thoroughly--to make me feel that any remission of misery at home, any -comparative comfort, was as a gift from her. But to make me feel this -thoroughly, it was necessary that all pleasure and comfort in my home -should first be annihilated. I was a very delicate child, and suffered -absolute agonies from chilblains, which were often large open wounds on -my feet. Therefore I was put to sleep in "the Barracks"--two dismal -unfurnished, uncarpeted north rooms, without fireplaces, looking into a -damp courtyard, with a well and a howling dog. My only bed was a rough -deal trestle, my only bedding a straw palliasse, with a single coarse -blanket. The only other furniture in the room was a deal chair, and a -washing-basin on a tripod. No one was allowed to bring me any hot water; -and as the water in my room always froze with the intense cold, I had to -break the ice with a brass candlestick, or, if that were taken away, -with my wounded hands. If, when I came down in the morning, as was often -the case, I was almost speechless from sickness and misery, it was -always declared to be "temper." I was given "saur-kraut" to eat because -the very smell of it made me sick. - -When Aunt Esther discovered the comfort that I found in getting away to -my dear old Lea, she persuaded my mother that Lea's influence over me -was a very bad one, and obliged her to keep me away from her. - -A favourite torment was reviling all my own relations before me--my -sister, &c.--and there was no end to the insulting things Aunt Esther -said of them. - -People may wonder, and oh! how often have I wondered that my mother did -not put an end to it all. But, inexplicable as it may seem, it was her -extraordinary religious opinions which prevented her doing so. She -literally believed and taught that when a person struck you on the right -cheek you were to invite them to strike you on the left also, and -therefore if Aunt Esther injured or insulted me in one way, it was -right that I should give her the opportunity of injuring or insulting me -in another! I do not think that my misery cost her nothing, she felt it -acutely; but _because_ she felt it thus, she welcomed it, as a fiery -trial to be endured. Lea, however, was less patient, and openly -expressed her abhorrence of her own trial in having to come up to the -Rectory daily to dress my mother for dinner, and walk back to Lime -through the dark night, coming again, shine or shower, in the early -morning, before my mother was up. - -I would not have any one suppose that, on looking back through the -elucidation of years, I can see no merits in my Aunt Esther Hare. The -austerities which she enforced upon my mother with regard to me she -fully carried out as regarded herself. "Elle vivait avec elle-même comme -sa victime," as Mme. de Staël would describe it. She was the Inquisition -in person. She probed and analysed herself and the motive of her every -action quite as bitterly and mercilessly as she probed and analysed -others. If any pleasure, any even which resulted from affection for -others, had drawn her for an instant from what she believed to be the -path--and it was always the thorniest path--of self-sacrifice, she -would remorselessly denounce that pleasure, and even tear out that -affection from her heart. She fasted and denied herself in everything; -indeed, I remember that when she was once very ill, and it was necessary -for her to see a doctor, she never could be persuaded to consent to it, -till the happy idea occurred of inducing her to do so on a Friday, by -way of a penance! To such of the poor as accepted her absolute -authority, Aunt Esther was unboundedly kind, generous, and considerate. -To the wife of the curate, who leant confidingly upon her, she was an -unselfish and heroic nurse, equally judicious and tender, in every -crisis of a perplexing and dangerous illness. To her own sisters and -other members of her family her heart and home were ever open, with -unvarying affection. To her husband, to whom her severe creed taught her -to show the same inflexible obedience she exacted from others, she was -utterly devoted. His requirement that she should receive his old friend, -Mrs. Alexander, as a permanent inmate, almost on an equality with -herself in the family home, and surround her with loving attentions, she -bowed to without a murmur. But to a little boy who was, to a certain -degree, independent of her, and who had from the first somewhat -resented her interference, she knew how to be--oh! she was--most cruel. - -Open war was declared at length between Aunt Esther and myself. I had a -favourite cat called Selma, which I adored, and which followed me about -at Lime wherever I went. Aunt Esther saw this, and at once insisted that -the cat must be given up to her. I wept over it in agonies of grief: but -Aunt Esther insisted. My mother was relentless in saying that I must be -taught to give up my own way and pleasure to others; and forced to give -it up if I would not do so willingly, and with many tears, I took Selma -in a basket to the Rectory. For some days it almost comforted me for -going to the Rectory, because then I possibly saw my idolised Selma. But -soon there came a day when Selma was missing: Aunt Esther had ordered -her to be ... hung! - -From this time I never attempted to conceal that I loathed Aunt Esther. -I constantly gave her the presents which my mother made me save up all -my money to buy for her--for her birthday, Christmas, New Year, &c.--but -I never spoke to her unnecessarily. On these occasions I always received -a present from her in return--"The Rudiments of Architecture," price -ninepence, in a red cover. It was always the same, which not only saved -expense, but also the trouble of thinking. I have a number of copies of -"The Rudiments of Architecture" now, of which I thus became the -possessor. - -Only from Saturday till Monday we had a reprieve. The nearness of Lime -to the school which my mother undertook to teach on Sundays was the -excuse, but, as I see from her journal, only the excuse, which she made -to give me one happy day in the week. How well I remember still the -ecstasy of these Saturday evenings, when I was once more alone with the -mother of my childhood, who was all the world to me, and she was almost -as happy as I was in playing with my kittens or my little black spaniel -"Lewes," and when she would sing to me all her old songs--"Hohenlinden," -"Lord Ullin's Daughter," &c. &c.--and dear Lea was able to come in and -out undisturbed, in the old familiar way. - -[Illustration: THE VESTRY, HURSTMONCEAUX.] - -Even the pleasures of this home-Sunday, however, were marred in the -summer, when my mother gave in to a suggestion of Aunt Esther that I -should be locked into the vestry of the church between the services. -Miserable indeed were the three hours which--provided with a sandwich -for dinner--I had weekly to spend there; and though I did not expect to -see ghosts, the utter isolation of Hurstmonceaux Church, far away from -all haunts of men, gave my imprisonment an unusual eeriness. Sometimes I -used to clamber over the tomb of the Lords Dacre, which rises like a -screen against one side of the vestry, and be stricken with vague -terrors by the two grim white figures lying upon it in the silent -desolation, in which the scamper of a rat across the floor seemed to -make a noise like a whirlwind. At that time two grinning skulls (of the -founder and foundress of the church, it was believed) lay on the ledge -of the tomb; but soon after this Uncle Julius and Aunt Esther made a -weird excursion to the churchyard with a spade, and buried them in the -dusk with their own hands. In the winter holidays, the intense cold of -the unwarmed church made me so ill, that it led to my miserable penance -being remitted. James II. used to say that "Our Saviour flogged people -to make them go out of the temple, but that he never punished them to -make them go _in_."[36] But in my childhood no similar abstinence was -observed. - -It was a sort of comfort to me, in the real church-time, to repeat -vigorously all the worst curses in the Psalms, those in which David -showed his most appalling degree of malice (Psalm xxxv. 7-16, Psalm -lix., Psalm lxix. 22-29, Psalm cxl. 9, 10, for instance), and apply them -to Aunt Esther & Co. As all the Psalms were extolled as beatific, and -the Church of England used them constantly for edification, their -sentiments were all right, I supposed. - -A great delight to me at this time was a cabinet with many drawers which -my mother gave me to keep my minerals and shells in, and above which -was a little bookcase filled with all my own books. The aunts in vain -tried to persuade her to take away "some of the drawers," so that I -might "never have the feeling that the cabinet was wholly mine." When I -returned to school, it was some amusement in my walks to collect for -this cabinet the small fossils which abound in the Wiltshire limestone -about Harnish, especially at Kellaway's quarry, a point which it was -always our especial ambition to reach on holidays. At eleven years old I -was quite learned about Pentacrinites, Bellemnites, Ammonites, &c. - -It was often a sort of vague comfort to me at home that there was always -one person at Hurstmonceaux Rectory whom Aunt Esther was thoroughly -afraid of. It was the faithful old servant Collins, who had kept his -master in order for many years. I remember that my Uncle Marcus, when he -came to the Rectory, complained dreadfully of the tea, that the water -with which it was made was never "on the boil," &c.--"they really must -speak to Collins about it." But neither Uncle Julius nor Aunt Esther -would venture to do it; they really couldn't: he must do it himself. And -he did it, and very ill it was received. - -The summer holidays were less miserable than those in the winter, -because then, at least for a time, we got away from Hurstmonceaux. In -the summer of 1845, I went with my mother to her old home of Alton for -the first time. How well I remember her burst of tears as we came in -sight of the White Horse, and the church-bells ringing, and the many -simple cordial poor people coming out to meet her, and blessing her. She -visited every cottage and every person in them, and gave feasts in a -barn to all the people. One day the school-children all sang a sort of -ode which a farmer's daughter had composed to her. Never was my sweet -mother more charming than in her intercourse with her humble friends at -Alton, and I delighted in threading with her the narrow muddy foot-lanes -of the village to the different cottages, of old and young Mary Doust, -of Lizzie Hams, Avis Wootton, Betty Perry, &c. - -Alton was, and is, quite the most primitive place I have ever seen, -isolated--an oasis of verdure--in the midst of the great Wiltshire -corn-plain, which is bare ploughed land for so many months of the year; -its two tiny churches within a stone-throw of each other, and its -thatched mud cottages peeping out of the elms which surround its few -grass pastures. A muddy chalky lane leads from the village up to "Old -Adam," the nearest point on the chain of downs, and close by is a White -Horse, not the famous beast of Danish celebrity, but something much more -like the real animal. I was never tired during this visit of hearing -from his loving people what "Uncle Augustus" had said to them, and truly -his words and his image seemed indelibly impressed upon their hearts. -Mrs. Pile, with whose father or sister we stayed when at Alton, and who -always came to meet us there, was one of those rare characters in middle -life who are really ennobled by the ceaseless action of a true, -practical, humble Christianity. I have known many of those persons whom -the world calls "great ladies" in later times, but I have never known -any one who was more truly "a lady" in every best and highest sense, -than Mrs. Pile. - -On leaving Alton, we went to join the Marcus Hares in the express train -at Swindon. Uncle Marcus, Aunt Lucy, her maid Griffiths, and my mother -were in one compartment of the carriage; my little cousin Lucebella, -Lea, an elderly peer (Lord Saye and Sele, I think), and I were in the -other, for carriages on the Great Western were then divided by a door. -As we neared Windsor, my little cousin begged to be held up that she -might see if the flag were flying on the castle. At that moment there -was a frightful crash, and the carriage dashed violently from side to -side. In an instant the dust was so intense that all became pitch -darkness. "For God's sake put up your feet and press backwards; I've -been in this before," cried Lord S., and we did so. In the other -compartment all the inmates were thrown violently on the floor, and -jerked upwards with every lurch of the train. If the darkness cleared -for an instant, I saw Lea's set teeth and livid face opposite. I learned -then for the first time that to put hand-bags in the net along the top -of the carriage is most alarming in case of accident. They are dashed -hither and thither like so many cannon-balls. A dressing-case must be -fatal. - -After what seemed an endless time, the train suddenly stopped with a -crash. We had really, I believe, been three minutes off the line. -Instantly a number of men surrounded the carriage. "There is not an -instant to lose, another train is upon you, they may not be able to stop -it,"--and we were all dragged out and up the steep bank of the railway -cutting. Most strange, I remember, was the appearance of our ruined -train beneath, lying quite across the line. The wheels of the luggage -van at the end had come off, and the rest of the train had been dragged -off the line gradually, the last carriages first. Soon two trains were -waiting (stopped) on the blocked line behind. We had to wait on the top -of the bank till a new train came to fetch us from Slough, and when we -arrived there, we found the platform full of anxious inquirers, and much -sympathy we excited, quite black and blue with bruises, though none of -us seriously hurt. - -[Illustration: LEWES.] - -Soon after we reached Hurstmonceaux, my Uncle Marcus became seriously -ill at the Rectory. I went with my mother, Aunt Esther, and Uncle Julius -to his "charge" at Lewes, and, as we came back in the hot evening, we -were met by a messenger desiring us not to drive up to the house, as -Uncle Marcus must not be disturbed by the sound of wheels. Then his -children were sent to Lime, and my mother was almost constantly at the -Rectory. I used to go secretly to see her there, creeping in through the -garden so as not to be observed by the aunts, for Aunt Lucy could -scarcely bear her to be out of sight. At last one morning I was summoned -to go up to the Rectory with all the three children. Marcus went in -first alone to his father's room and was spoken to: then I went in with -the younger ones. Lucebella was lifted on to the pillow, I stood at the -side of the bed with Theodore; my mother, Uncle Julius, and Aunt Esther -were at the foot. I remember the scene as a picture, and Aunt Lucy -sitting stonily at the bed's-head in a violet silk dress. My dying uncle -had a most terrible look and manner, which haunted me long afterwards, -but he spoke to us, and I think gave us his blessing. I was told that -after we left the room he became more tranquil. In the night my mother -and Uncle Julius said the "Te Deum" aloud, and, as they reached the last -verse, he died. - -Aunt Lucy never saw him again. She insisted upon being brought away -immediately to Lime, and shut herself up there. She was very peculiar at -this time and for a year afterwards, one of her odd fancies being that -her maid Griffiths was always to breakfast and have luncheon with the -family and be waited on as a lady. We children all went to the funeral, -driving in the family chariot. I had no real affection for Uncle Marcus, -but felt unusually solemnised by the tears around me. When, however, a -peacock butterfly, for which I had always longed, actually perched upon -my prayer-book as I was standing by the open grave in the most solemn -moment, I could not resist closing the book upon it, and my prayer-book -still has the marks of the butterfly's death. I returned to school in -August under the care of Mr. Hull, a very old friend of the family, who -had come to the funeral. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Harnish, August 8._--When we got to London we got a cab and went, - passing the Guildhall where Gog and Magog live, the great - Post-Office, the New Royal Exchange and the Lord Mayor's, to - Tavistock Square, where three young men rushed down-stairs, who Mr. - Hull told me were his three sons--John, Henry, and Frank. I had my - tea when they had their dinner. After tea I looked at Miss Hull's - drawings. Mr. Hull gave me a book called 'The Shadowless Man.' I - stayed up to see a balloon, for which we had to go upon the top of - the house. The balloon looked like a ball of fire. It scattered all - kinds of lights, but it did not stay up very long. We also saw a - house on fire, the flames burst out and the sky was all red. Do - give the kitten and the kitten's kitten some nice bits from your - tea for my sake." - - - "_August 30._--We have been a picknick to Slaughterford. We all - went in a van till the woods of Slaughterford came in sight. Then - we walked up a hill, carrying baskets and cloaks between us till we - came to the place where we encamped. The dinner was unpacked, and - the cloth laid, and all sate round. When the dishes were uncovered, - there appeared cold beef, bread, cheese, and jam, which were - quickly conveyed to the mouths of the longing multitude. We then - plunged into the woods and caught the nuts by handfuls. Then I got - flowers and did a sketch, and when the van was ready we all went - home. Goodbye darling Mamma. I have written a poem, which I send - you-- - - "O Chippenham station thy music is sweet - When the up and down trains thy neighbourhood greet. - The up train to London directeth our path - And the down train will land us quite safely at Bath." - - - "_October_ the I don't know what.--O dearest Mamma, what do you - think! Mr. Dalby asked me to go to Compton Bassett with Mr. and - Mrs. Kilvert and Freddie Sheppard.... When we got to the gate of a - lovely rectory near Calne, Mrs. Sheppard flew to the door to - receive her son, as you would me, with two beautiful little girls - his sisters. After dinner I went with Freddie into the garden, and - to the church, and saw the peacocks and silver pheasants, and made - a sketch of the rectory. On Sunday we had prayers with singing and - went to church twice, and saw a beautiful avenue where the ground - was covered with beech-nuts. On Monday the Dalbys' carriage brought - us to Chippenham to the Angel, where we got out and walked to - Harnish. Mr. Dalby told me to tell you that having known Uncle - Augustus so well, he had taken _the liberty_ to invite me to - Compton." - - - "_Oct. 6._--It is now only ten weeks and six days to the holidays. - Last night I had a pan of hot water for my feet and a warm bed, - and, what was worse, two horrible pills! and this morning when I - came down I was presented with a large breakfast-cup of senna-tea, - and was very sick indeed and had a very bad stomach-ache. But to - comfort me I got your dear letter with a sermon, but who is to - preach it?" - - - "_Nov. 6._--Dearest Mamma, as soon as we came down yesterday all - our dresses for the fifth of November were laid out. After - breakfast the procession was dressed, and as soon as the sentinel - proclaimed that the clock struck ten, the grand procession set - out: first Gumbleton and Sheppard dressed up with straps, cocked - hats, and rosettes, carrying between them, on a chair, Samuel - dressed as Guy Fawkes in a large cocked hat and short cloak and - with a lanthorn in his hand. Then came Proby carrying a Union Jack, - and Walter (Arnold) with him, with rosettes and bands. Then King - Alick with a crown turned up with ermine, and round his leg a blue - garter. Behind him walked the Queen (Deacon Coles) with a purple - crown and long yellow robe and train, and Princess Elizabeth (me) - in a robe and train of pink and green. After the procession had - moved round the garden, singing-- - - 'Remember, remember, - The fifth of November, &c,' - - the sentinel of the guard announced that the cart of faggots was - coming up the hill ... and in the evening was a beautiful bonfire - and fireworks. - - "What a pity it is that the new railway does not turn aside to save - Lewes Priory. I shall like very much to see the skeletons, but I - had much rather that Gundrada and her husband lay still in their - coffins, and that the Priory had not been disturbed.... It is only - five weeks now to the holidays." - - - "_Nov. 28._--Counting to the 19th, and not counting the day of - breaking up, it is now only three weeks to the holidays. I will - give you a history of getting home. From Lewes I shall look out for - the castle and the Visitation church. Then I shall pass Ringmer, - the Green Man Inn, Laughton, the Bat and Ball; then the Dicker, - Horsebridge, the Workhouse, the turnpike, the turn to Carter's - Corner, the turn to Magham Down, Woodham's Farm, the Deaf and Dumb - House, the Rectory on the hill, the Mile Post--'15 miles to Lewes,' - Lime Wood, the gate (oh! when shall I be there!)--then turn in, the - Flower Field, the Beaney Field, _the_ gate--oh! the garden--two - figures--John and Lea, perhaps you--perhaps even the kittens will - come to welcome their master. Oh my Lime! in little more than three - weeks I shall be there!" - - - "_Hurrah for Dec. 1._--On Wednesday it will be, not counting - breaking-up day, two weeks, and oh! the Wednesday after we shall - say 'one week.' This month we break up! I dream of nothing, think - of nothing, but coming home. To-day we went with Mr. Walker (the - usher) to Chippenham, and saw where Lea and I used to go to sit on - the wooden bridge.... Not many more letters! not many more sums!" - -How vividly, how acutely, I recollect that--in my passionate devotion to -my mother--I used, as the holidays approached, to conjure up the most -vivid mental pictures of my return to her, and appease my longing with -the thought of how she would rush out to meet me, of her ecstatic -delight, &c.; and then how terrible was the bathos of the reality, when -I drove up to the silent door of Lime, and nobody but Lea took any -notice of my coming; and of the awful chill of going into the -drawing-room and seeing my longed-for and pined-for mother sit still in -her chair by the fire till I went up and kissed her. To her, who had -been taught always to curtsey not only to her father, but even to her -father's chair, it was only natural; but I often sobbed myself to sleep -in a little-understood agony of anguish--an anguish that she could not -really care for me. - - "Oh, the little more, and how much it is! - And the little less, and what worlds away!"[37] - -In the winter of 1845-46, "Aunt Lucy" let Rockend to Lord Beverley, and -came to live at Lime for six months with her three children, a -governess, and two, sometimes three, servants. As she fancied herself -poor, and this plan was economical, it was frequently repeated -afterwards. On the whole, the arrangement was satisfactory to me, as -though Aunt Lucy was excessively unkind to me, and often did not speak a -single word to me for many weeks together, and though the children were -most tormenting, Aunt Esther--a far greater enemy--was at least kept at -bay, for Aunt Lucy detested her influence and going to the Rectory quite -as cordially as I did. - -How often I remember my ever-impatient rebellion against the doctrine I -was always taught as fundamental--that my uncles and aunts must be -always right, and that to question the absolute wisdom and justice of -their every act--to me so utterly selfish--was typical of the meanest -and vilest nature. How odd it is that parents, and still more uncles and -aunts, never will understand, that whilst they are criticising and -scrutinising their children or nephews, the latter are also scrutinising -and criticising them. Yet so it is: investigation and judgment of -character is usually mutual. During this winter, however, I imagine that -the aunts were especially amiable, as in the child's play which I wrote, -and which we all acted--"The Hope of the Katzekoffs"--they, with my -mother, represented the three fairies--"Brigida, Rigida, and -Frigida"--Aunt Lucy, I need hardly say, being Frigida, and Aunt Esther -Rigida. - -[Illustration: Augustus J. C. Hare - -From a portrait by S. Lawrence.] - -Being very ill with the measles kept me at home till the middle of -February. Aunt Lucy's three children also had the measles, and were very -ill; and it is well remembered as characteristic of Aunt Esther, that -she said when they were at the worst--"I am _very glad_ they are so ill: -it is a well-deserved punishment because their mother would not let -them go to church for fear they should catch it there." Church and a -love of church was the standard by which Aunt Esther measured -everything. In all things she had the inflexible cruelty of a Dominican. -She would willingly and proudly undergo martyrdom herself for her own -principles, but she would torture without remorse those who differed -from her. - -When we were recovering, Aunt Lucy read "Guy Mannering" aloud to us. It -was enchanting. I had always longed beyond words to read Scott's novels, -but had never been allowed to do so--"they were too exciting for a boy!" -But usually, as Aunt Lucy and my mother sat together, their conversation -was almost entirely about the spiritual things in which their hearts, -their mental powers, their whole being were absorbed. The doctrine of -Pascal was always before their minds--"La vie humaine n'est qu'une -illusion perpetuelle," and their treasure was truly set in heavenly -places. They would talk of heaven in detail just as worldly people would -talk of the place where they were going for change of air. At this time, -I remember, they both wished--no, I suppose they only thought they -wished--to die: they talked of longing, pining for "the coming of the -kingdom," but when they grew really old, when the time which they had -wished for before was in all probability really near, and when they -were, I believe, far more really prepared for it, they ceased to wish -for it. "By-and-by" would do. I imagine it is always thus. - -Aunt Lucy loved her second boy Theodore much the best of her three -children, and made the greatest possible difference between him and the -others. I remember this being very harshly criticised at the time; but -now it seems to me only natural that in any family there must be -favourites. It is with earthly parents as Dr. Foxe said in a sermon -about God, that "though he may love all his children, he must have an -especial feeling for his saints." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_March 13._--My dearest, dearest Mamma, to-day is my 12th - birthday. How well I remember many happy birthdays at Stoke, when - before breakfast I had a wreath of snowdrops, and at dinner a - little pudding with my name in plums.... I will try this new year - to throw away self and think less how to please it. Good-bye dear - Mamma." - -In March the news that my dear (Mary) Lea was going to marry our -man-servant John Gidman was an awful shock to me. My mother might easily -have prevented this (most unequal) marriage, which, as far as Mrs. -Leycester was concerned, was an elopement. It was productive of great -trouble to us afterwards, and obliged me to endure John Gidman, to wear -him like a hair-shirt, for forty years. Certainly no ascetic torments -can be so severe as those which Providence occasionally ordains for us. -As for our dear Lea herself, her marriage brought her misery enough, but -her troubles always stayed in her heart and never filtered through. As I -once read in an American novel, "There ain't so much difference in the -troubles on this earth, as there is in the folks that have to bear -them." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_March 20._--O my very dearest Mamma. What news! what news! I - cannot believe it! and yet sometimes I have thought it might - happen, for one night a long time ago when I was sitting on Lea's - lap--O what shall I call her now? may I still call her Lea? Well, - one night a long time ago, I said that Lea would never marry, and - she asked why she shouldn't, and said something about--'Suppose I - marry John.' ... I was sure she could never leave us. I put your - letter away for some time till Mrs. Kilvert sent me upstairs for my - gloves. Then I opened it, and the first words I saw were - 'Lea--married.' I was so surprised I could not speak or move.... - How very odd it will be for Lea to be a bride. Why, John is not - half so old as Lea, is he?... Tell me all about the wedding--every - smallest weeest thing--What news! what news!" - - - MARY (LEA) GIDMAN _to_ A. J. C. H. - - "_Stoke_, _March_ 29, 1846.--My darling child, a thousand thanks - for your dear little letter. I hope the step I have taken will not - displease you. If there is anything in it you don't like, I must - humbly beg your pardon. I will give you what account I can of the - wedding. Your dear Mamma has told you that she took me to - Goldstone. Then on Saturday morning a little after nine my mother's - carriage and a saddle-horse were brought to the gate to take us to - Cheswardine. My sister Hannah and her husband and George Bentley - went with me to church. I wished you had been with me so very much, - but I think it was better that your dear Mamma was not there, for - very likely it would have given her a bad headache and have made me - more nervous than I was, but I got through all of it better than I - expected I should. As soon as it was over the bells began to ring. - We came back to Goldstone, stayed about ten minutes, then went to - Drayton, took the coach for Whitmore, went by rail to Chelford, and - then we got a one-horse fly which took us to Thornycroft to John's - grandfather's, where we were received with much joy. We stayed - there till Wednesday, then went for one night to Macclesfield, and - came back to Goldstone on Thursday and stayed there till Friday - evening. Then we came back to Stoke. The servants received us very - joyfully, and your dear Mamma showed me such tender feelings and - kindness, it is more than I can tell you now. My dear child, I hope - you will always call me Lea. I cannot bear the thought of your - changing my name, for the love I have for you nothing can ever - change. My mother and Hannah wish you had been in the garden with - me gathering their flowers, there is such a quantity of them.... We - leave Stoke to-morrow, and on Friday reach your and our dear Lime. - I shall write to you as soon as we get back, and now goodbye, my - darling child, from your old affectionate nurse Lea." - -[Illustration: REV. O. LEYCESTER'S GRAVE, STOKE CHURCHYARD.] - -The great age of my dear Grandfather Leycester, ninety-five, had always -made his life seem to us to hang upon a thread, and very soon after I -returned home for my summer holidays, we were summoned to Stoke by the -news of his death. This was a great grief to me, not only because I was -truly attached to the kind old man, but because it involved the parting -with the happiest scenes of my childhood, the only home in which I had -ever been really happy. The dear Grandfather's funeral was very -different from that which I had attended last year, and I shed many -tears by his grave in the churchyard looking out upon the willows and -the shining Terne. Afterwards came many sad partings, last visits to -Hawkestone, Buntingsdale, Goldstone; last rambles to Helshore, Jackson's -Pool, and the Islands; and then we all came away--my Uncle Penrhyn -first, then Aunt Kitty, then my mother and Lea and I, and lastly -Grannie, who drove in her own carriage all the way to her house in New -Street, Spring Gardens, the posting journey, so often talked of, -actually taking place at last. Henceforward Stoke seemed to be -transferred to New Street, which was filled with relics of the old -Shropshire Rectory, and where Mrs. Cowbourne, Margaret Beeston, Anne -Tudor, and Richard the footman, with Rose the little red and white -spaniel, were household inmates as before. - -I thought the house in New Street charming--the cool, old-fashioned, -bow-windowed rooms, which we should now think very scantily furnished, -and like those of many a country inn; the dining-room opening upon wide -leads, which Grannie soon turned into a garden; the drawing-room, which -had a view through the trees of the Admiralty Garden to the Tilting -Yard, with the Horse Guards and the towers of Westminster Abbey. - -The grief of leaving Stoke made me miserably unwell, and a doctor was -sent for as soon as I arrived at the Stanleys' house, 38 Lower Brook -Street, who came to me straight from a patient ill with the scarlatina, -and gave me the disorder. For three weeks I was very seriously ill in -hot summer weather, in stifling rooms, looking on the little black -garden and chimney-pots at the back of the house. Mary and Kate Stanley -were sent away from the infection, and no one came near me except my -faithful friend Miss Clinton, who brought me eau-de-Cologne and flowers. -It was long foolishly concealed from me that I had the scarlatina, and -therefore, as I felt day after day of the precious holidays ebbing away, -while I was pining for coolness and fresh country air, my mental fever -added much to my bodily ailments, whereas, when once told that I was -seriously ill, I was quite contented to lie still. Before I quite -recovered, my dear nurse Lea became worn-out with attending to me, and -we had scarcely reached Lime before she became most dangerously ill with -a brain-fever. For many days and nights she lay on the brink of the -grave, and great was my agony while this precious life was in danger. -Aunt Esther, who on _great_ occasions generally behaved kindly, was very -good at this time, ceased to persecute me, and took a very active part -in the nursing. - -At length our dear Lea was better, and as I was still very fragile, I -went with my mother and Anne Brooke, our cook, to Eastbourne--then a -single row of little old-fashioned houses by the sea--where we -inhabited, I should think, the very smallest and humblest lodging that -ever was seen. I have often been reminded of it since in reading the -account of Peggotty's cottage in "David Copperfield." It was a tiny -house built of flints, amongst the boats, at the then primitive end of -Eastbourne, towards the marshes, and its miniature rooms were filled -with Indian curiosities, brought to the poor widow to whom it belonged -by a sailor son. The Misses Thomas of Wratton came to see us here, and -could hardly suppress their astonishment at finding us in such a -place--and when the three tall smart ladies had once got into our room, -no one was able to move, and all had to go out in the order in which -they were nearest the door. But my mother always enjoyed exceedingly -these primitive places, and would sit for hours on the beach with her -Taylor's "Holy Living" or her "Christian Year," and had soon made many -friends amongst the neighbouring cottagers, whose houses were quite as -fine as her own, and who were certainly more cordial to the lady who had -not minded settling down as one of themselves, than they would have been -to a smart visitor in a carriage. The most remarkable of these people -was an excellent old woman called Deborah Pattenden, who lived in the -half of a boat turned upside down, and had had the most extraordinary -adventures. My first literary work was her biography, which told how she -had suffered the pains of drowning, burning (having been enveloped in -flames while struck by lightning), and how she had lain for twenty-one -days in a rigid trance (from "the plague," she described it) without -food or sign of life, and was near being buried alive. We found a -transition from our cottage life in frequent visits to Compton Place, -where Mrs. Cavendish, mother of the 7th Duke of Devonshire, lived then, -with her son Mr. Cavendish, afterwards Lord Richard. She was a charming -old lady, who always wore white, and had very simple and very timid -manners. But she was fond of my mother, who was quite adored by Lord -Richard, by whom we were kept supplied with the most beautiful fruits -and flowers of the Compton Gardens. He was very kind to me also, and -would sometimes take me to his bookcases and tell me to choose any book -I liked for my own. We seldom afterwards passed a summer without going -for a few days to Compton Place as long as Mrs. Cavendish lived there. -It was there that I made my first acquaintance with the existence of -many simple luxuries to which, in our primitive life, we were quite -unaccustomed, but which in great houses are considered almost as -necessaries. The Cavendishes treated us as distant relations, in -consequence of the marriage of my Grandmother's cousin, Georgiana -Spencer, with the 5th Duke of Devonshire. - -When I returned to Harnish I was still wretchedly ill, and the constant -sickness under which I suffered, with the extreme and often unjust -severity of Mr. Kilvert, made the next half year a very miserable one. -In the three years and a half which I had spent at Harnish, I had been -taught next to nothing--all our time having been frittered in learning -Psalms by heart, and the Articles of the Church of England (I could say -the whole thirty-nine straight off when eleven years old), &c. Our -history was what Arrowsmith's Atlas used to describe Central Africa to -be--"a barren country only productive of dates." I could scarcely -construe even the easiest passages of Cæsar. Still less had I learned to -play at any ordinary boys' games; for, as we had no playground, we had -naturally never had a chance of any. I was glad of any change. It was -delightful to leave Harnish for good at Christmas, 1846, and the -prospect of Harrow was that of a voyage of adventure. - -In January 1847 my mother took me to Harrow. Dr. Vaughan was then -headmaster, and Mr. Simpkinson, who had been long a curate of -Hurstmonceaux, and who had been consequently one of the most familiar -figures of my childhood, was a master under him, and, with his handsome, -good-humoured sister Louisa, kept the large house for boys beyond the -church, which is still called "The Grove." It was a wonderfully new life -upon which I entered; but though a public school was a very much rougher -thing then than it is now, and though the fagging for little boys was -almost ceaseless, it would not have been an unpleasant life if I had not -been so dreadfully weak and sickly, which sometimes unfitted me for -enduring the roughness to which I was subjected. As a general rule, -however, I looked upon what was intended for bullying as an additional -"adventure," which several of the big boys thought so comic, that they -were usually friendly to me and ready to help me: one who especially -stood my friend was a young giant--Twisleton, son of Lord Saye and Sele. -One who went to Harrow at the same time with me was my connection Harry -Adeane,[38] whose mother was Aunt Lucy's sister, Maude Stanley of -Alderley. I liked Harry very much, but though he was in the same house, -his room was so distant that we saw little of each other; besides, my -intense ignorance gave me a very low place in the school, in the Lower -Fourth Form. It was a great amusement to write to my mother all that -occurred. In reading it, people might imagine my narration was intended -for complaint, but it was nothing of the kind: indeed, had I wished to -complain, I should have known my mother far too well to complain to -_her_. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Harrow, Jan. 29, 1847._--When I left you, I went to school and - came back to pupil room, and in the afternoon had a solitary walk - to the skating pond covered with boys.... In the evening two big - boys rushed up, and seizing Buller (another new boy) and me, - dragged us into a room where a number of boys were assembled. I was - led into the midst. Bob Smith[39] whispered to me to do as I was - bid and I should not be hurt. On the other side of the room were - cold chickens, cake, fruit, &c., and in a corner were a number of - boys holding open little Dirom's mouth, and pouring something - horrible stirred up with a tallow-candle down his throat. A great - boy came up to me and told me to sing or to drink some of this - dreadful mixture. I did sing--at least I made a noise--and the boys - were pleased because I made no fuss, and loaded me with oranges and - cakes. - - "This morning being what is _called_ a whole holiday, I have had to - stay in three hours more than many of the others because of my - slowness in making Latin verses. This evening Abel Smith sent for - me to his room, and asked me if I was comfortable, and all sorts of - things." - - - "_Jan. 21._--What do you think happened last night? Before prayers - I was desired to go into the fifth form room, as they were having - some game there. A boy met me at the door, ushered me in, and told - me to make my salaam to the Emperor of Morocco, who was seated - cross-legged in the middle of a large counterpane, surrounded by - twenty or more boys as his serving-men. I was directed to sit down - by the Emperor, and in the same way. He made me sing, and then - jumped off the counterpane, as he said, to get me some cake. - Instantly all the boys seized the counterpane and tossed away. Up - to the ceiling I went and down again, but they had no mercy, and it - was up and down, head over heels, topsy-turvy, till some one called - out 'Satus'--and I was let out, very sick and giddy at first, but - soon all right again.... I am not much bullied except by Davenport, - who sleeps in my room." - - - "_Jan. 22._--To-day it has snowed so hard that there has been - nothing but snow-balling, and as I was coming out of school, hit - by a shower of snowballs, I tumbled the whole way down the two - flights of stairs headlong from the top to the bottom." - - - "_Jan. 23._--Yesterday I was in my room, delighted to be alone for - once, and very much interested in the book I was reading, when D. - came in and found the fire out, so I got a good licking. He makes - me his fag to go errands, and do all he bids me, and if I don't do - it, he beats me, but I don't mind much. However, I have got some - friends, for when I refused to do my week-day lessons on a Sunday, - and was being very much laughed at for it, some one came in and - said, 'No, Hare, you're quite right; never mind being laughed at.' - However I am rather lonely still with no one to speak to or care - about me. Sometimes I take refuge in Burroughs' study, but I cannot - do that often, or he would soon get tired of me. I think I shall - like Waldegrave,[40] a new boy who has come, but all the others - hate him. Blomfield[41] is a nice boy, but his room is very far - away. Indeed, our room is so secluded, that it would be a very - delightful place if D. did not live in it. In playtime I go here, - there, and everywhere, but with no one and doing nothing. Yet I - like Harrow very much, though I am much teased even in my form by - one big boy, who takes me for a drum, and hammers on my two sides - all lesson-time with doubled fists. However, Miss Simmy says, if - you could see my roses you would be satisfied." - - "_Jan. 30._--There are certain fellows here who read my last letter - to you, and gave me a great lecture for mentioning boys' names; but - you must never repeat what I say: it could only get me into - trouble. The other night I did a desperate thing. I appealed to the - other boys in the house against D. Stapleton was moved by my story, - and Hankey and other boys listened. Then a boy called Sturt was - very much enraged at D., and threatened him greatly, and finally - D., after heaping all the abuse he could think of upon me, got so - frightened that he begged me to be friends with him. I cannot tell - you how I have suffered and do suffer from my chilblains, which - have become so dreadfully bad from going out so early and in all - weathers." - - - "_Feb. 2._--To-day, after half-past one Bill, I went down the town - with Buller and met two boys called Bocket and Lory. Lory and I, - having made acquaintance, went for a walk. This is only the second - walk I have had since I came to Harrow. I am perpetually 'Boy in - the House.'" - - - "_Feb. 10._--To-day at 5 minutes to 11, we were all told to go into - the Speech-room (do you remember it?), a large room with raised - benches all round and a platform in the middle and places for the - monitors. I sat nearly at the top of one of these long ranges. Then - Dr. Vaughan made a speech about snow-balling at the Railway Station - (a forbidden place), where the engine-drivers and conductors had - been snow-balled, and he said that the next time, if he could not - find out the names of the guilty individuals, the whole school - should be punished. To-day the snow-balling, or rather ice-balling - (for the balls are so hard you can hardly cut them with a knife), - has been terrific: some fellows almost have their arms broken with - them." - - - "_Feb. 12._--I am in the hospital with dreadful pains in my - stomach. The hospital is a large room, very quiet, with a window - looking out into the garden, and two beds in it. Burroughs is in - the other bed, laid up with a bad leg.... Yesterday, contrary to - rule, Dr. Vaughan called Bill, and then told all the school to stay - in their places, and said that he had found the keyhole of the - cupboard in which the rods were kept stopped up, and that if he did - not find out before one o'clock who did it, he would daily give the - whole school, from the sixth form downwards, a new pun, of the - severest kind.... There never was anything like the waste of bread - here, whole bushels are thrown about every day, but the bits are - given to the poor people.... I like Valletort[42] very much, and I - like Twisleton,[43] who is one of the biggest boys in this house." - - - "_Feb. 20._--To-day I went to the Harrisites' steeplechase. Nearly - all the school were there, pouring over hedges and ditches in a - general rush. The Harrisites were distinguished by their white or - striped pink and white jackets and Scotch caps, and all bore - flags." - - - "_Feb. 21._--I have been out jumping and hare-and-hounds, but we - have hard work now to escape from the slave-drivers for - racket-fagging. Sometimes we do, by one fellow sacrificing himself - and shutting up the others head downwards in the turn-up bedsteads, - where they are quite hidden; and sometimes I get the old woman at - the church to hide me in the little room over the porch till the - slave-drivers have passed." - - - "_March 1._--I have just come back from Sheen, where I have had a - very happy Exeat. Uncle Norwich gave me five shillings, and Uncle - Penrhyn ten." - - MRS. STANLEY _to_ - - HER SISTER MRS. A. HARE. - - - "_Sheen, March 1._--I never saw Augustus look anything like so - well--and it is the look of health, ruddy and firm, and his face - rounder. The only thing is that he stoops, as if there were - weakness in the back, but perhaps it is partly shyness, for I - observed he did it more at first. He did look very shy the first - day--hung his head like a snowdrop, crouched out of sight, and was - with difficulty drawn out; but I do not think it is at all because - he is cowed, and he talked more yesterday. The Bishop was very much - pleased with him, and thought him much improved.... He came without - either greatcoat or handkerchief, but did not appear to want the - one, and had lost the other. He said most decidedly that he was - happy, far happier than at Mr. Kilvert's, happier than he expected - to be; and, though I felt all the time what an uncongenial element - it must be, he could not be in it under better circumstances." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_March 4._--As you are ill, I will tell you my adventure of - yesterday to amuse you. I went out with a party of friends to play - at hare-and-hounds. I was hare, and ran away over hedges and - ditches. At last, just as I jumped over a hedge, Macphail caught - me, and we sat down to take breath. Just then Hoare ran up - breathless and panting, and threw himself into the hedge crying - out, 'We are pursued by navvies.' The next minute, before I could - climb back over the hedge, I found myself clutched by the arm, and - turning round, saw that a great fellow had seized me, and that - another had got Macphail and another Hodgson Junior. They dragged - us a good way, and then stopped and demanded our money, or they - would have us down and one should suffer for all. Macphail and - Hoare were so frightened that they gave up all their money at once, - but I would not give up mine. At last they grew perfectly furious - and declared they _would_ have our money to buy beer. I then gave - them a shilling, but hid the half-sovereign I had in my pocket, and - after we had declared we would not give them any more, they went - away. - - "To cut the story short, I got Hodgson Junior (for the others were - afraid) to go with me to the farmer on whose land the men were - working, and told what had happened. He went straight to the field - where the navvies were and made them give up all our money, turned - one out of his service, and threatened the other two, and we came - back to Harrow quite safe, very glad to have got off so well. - - "What do you think! the fever has broken out in Vaughan's, and if - any other house catches it, we are to go--home!" - - - "_March 9._--All the school is in an uproar, for all Vaughan's - house went down yesterday. Two boys have the fever, and if any one - else catches it, we shall all go home. What fun it will be. The - fever came straight from Eton with some velocipedes. Everybody now - thinks everybody else has the fever. I am shunned by all because I - have a sore throat, and half-a-yard is left on each side of me in - form. Boys suck camphor in school. Endless are the reports. - 'Pember's got the fever.'--'No, he hasn't.'--'Yes, he has, for it's - broke out in Harris's.'--'Then we shall all go home. Hurrah!'--'No, - it's all a gull!'" - - * * * * * - - "My adventure with the navvies has been a very good thing for me, - as some fellows say 'that little Hare has really got some pluck.'" - - - "_March 10._--Hurrah! Vaughan has caught the fever. The Vaughanites - are all gone. Valletort is gone. Waldegrave is gone. But the great - news is we all go home the day after to-morrow. Now if you don't - write the instant you get this you will delay my return home. So - pray, Mamma, do--do--do--do. I cannot write much, for the school is - so hurry-scurry. There will be no Trial--oh hip! hip! Oh pray do - write directly! I shall see you soon. Hurrah!" - - - (After Easter holidays), "_April 14._--When I got here, I found - Davenport was gone and Dirom come into our room. The bells rang all - night for the return of the school. We are busy at our Trial, which - we do with our masters in form. We did Ovid this morning, and I - knew much more about it than many other fellows." - - - "_Saturday._--To-day has been a whole holiday, as it always is at - the end of Trial. I have got off very well, and learnt eighty lines - more than I need have done, for we need only have learnt fifty - lines, and I knew more of other things than many others. - - "To-day was 'Election Day'--commonly called Squash Day (oh, how - glad I am it is over), the day most dreaded of all others by the - little boys, when they get squashed black and blue, and almost - turned inside out. But you won't understand this, so I will tell - you. Platt, horrid Platt, stands at one side of Vaughan's desk in - school, and Hewlett at the other, and read the names. As they are - read, you go up and say who you vote for as cricket-keeper, and as - you come out, the party you vote against squash you, while your - party try to rescue you. Sometimes this lasts a whole hour (without - exaggeration it's no fun), but to-day at breakfast the joyful news - came that the fourth form was let off squash. It was such a - delight. The fifth form were determined that we should have - something though, for as we came out of Bill, they tried to knock - our hats to pieces, and ourselves to pieces too." - - - "_April 24._--The boys have all begun to wear strawhats and to buy - insect-nets, for many are very fond of collecting insects, and to - my delight I found, when I came up, that they did not at all - despise picking primroses and violets." - - - "_April 28._--The other day, as Sturt was staying out, I had to fag - in his place. I had to go to that horrid Platt at Ben's. At the - door of Ben's was P----. I asked him which was Platt's room, and he - took me upstairs and pushed me into a little dark closet, and when - I got out of that, into a room where a number of fellows were at - tea, and then to another. At last I came to some stairs where two - boys were sitting cross-legged before a door. They were the - tea-fags. I went in, and there were Platt and his brother, very - angry at my being late, but at last they let me go, or rather I was - kicked out of the house. - - "To-day we went to hear a man read the 'Merchant of Venice' in - Speech-room. Such fun: I liked it so much." - - - "_May 1._--Yesterday I was in a predicament. Hewlett, the head of - our house, sent me with a note to Sporling, the head of the school, - in Vaughan's new house. I asked a boy which was Sporling's. He told - me that I should find him upstairs, so I went up stairs after - stairs, and at the top were two monitors, and as I looked - bewildered by the long passages, they told me which was Sporling's - room. When I came out with an answer to the note, they called after - me, and ordered me to give Hewlett their compliments, and tell him - not to be in too great a hurry to get into Sporling's shoes. You - must obey a monitor's orders, and if you don't you get a wapping; - but I was pretty sure to get a wapping anyway--from the monitors if - I did not deliver the message, and from Hewlett for its - impertinence. I asked a great many boys, and they all said I must - tell Hewlett directly. At last I did: he was in a great rage, but - said I might go. - - "I have 7s. 6d. owed me, for as soon as the boys have any money - they are almost obliged to lend it; at least you never have any - peace till it is all gone. Some of the boys keep rabbits in the - wells of their studies, but to-night Simmy has forbidden this." - - - "_June._--On Sunday in the middle of the Commandments it was so hot - in chapel that Kindersley fell down in a fit. He was seized head - and foot and carried out, struggling terribly, by Smith and Vernon - and others: and the boys say that in his fit he seized hold of Mr. - Middlemist's (the Mathematical Master's) nose and gave it a very - hard tweak; but how far this is true I cannot tell. However, the - whole chapel rose up in great consternation, some thinking one - thing and some another, and some not knowing what to think, while - others perhaps thought as I did, that the roof was coming down. Dr. - Vaughan went on reading the prayers, and Kindersley shrieking, but - at last all was quiet. Soon, however, there was another row, for - Miles fainted, and he was carried out, and then several others - followed his example. That night was so hot that many of the boys - slept on the bare floor, and had no bedclothes on, but the next day - it rained and got quite cold, and last night we were glad of - counterpanes and blankets again." - - "_The Bishop's Holiday._--The cricket-fagging, the dreadful, - horrible cricket-fagging comes upon me to-day. I am Boy in the - House on the extra whole holiday, and shall have cricket-fagging in - the evening at the end of a hard day's other fagging." - - - "_Saturday._--I must write about the awful storm of last night. I - had been very ill all day, and was made to take a powder in - marmalade--Ah-h--bah!--and went to sleep about twelve with the - window wide open because of the heat. At half-past two I awoke - sick, when to my astonishment, it being quite dark, flash after - flash of lightning illuminated the room and showed how the rain was - pouring in floods through the open window. The wind raged so that - we thought it would blow the house down. We heard the boys - downstairs screaming out and running about, and Simmy and Hewlett - trying to keep order. I never saw such a storm. All of a sudden, a - long loud clap of thunder shook the house, and hail like great - stones mingled with the rain came crashing in at the skylights. - Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, and continued - there (I suppose it must have struck something) in one broad flame - of light, bursting out like flames behind the window: I called out - 'Fire, fire, the window's on fire.' This woke Buller, who had been - sleeping soundly all this time, and he rushed to the window and - forced it down with the lightning full in his eyes. Again all was - darkness, and then another flash showed what a state the room was - in--the books literally washed off the table, and Forster and Dirom - armed with foot-pans of water. Then I threw myself on my bed in - agonies of sickness: not a drop of water was to be had to drink: at - last Buller found a little dirty rain-water, and in an instant I - was dreadfully sick.... You cannot think what the heat was, or what - agonies of sickness I was in."[44] - - - "_June 13._--I have cricket-fagged. Maude, my secret helper in - everything, came and told me what to do. But one ball came and I - missed it, then another, and I heard every one say, 'Now did you - see that fool; he let a ball pass. Look. Won't he get wapped!' I - had more than thirty balls and missed all but one--yet the - catapulta was not used. I had not to throw up to any monitors; - Platt did not come down for some time, and I had the easiest place - on the cricket-field, so it will be much worse next time. Oh, how - glad I was when half-past eight came! and when I went to take my - jacket up, though I found it wringing wet with dew. - - "The next day was Speech-day, but, with my usual misfortune, I was - Boy in the House. However I got off after one o'clock. All the boys - were obliged to wear straw-coloured or lavender kid-gloves and to - be dressed very smart.... When the people came out of Speeches, I - looked in vain for Aunt Kitty, but Aunt Kitty never came; so, when - we had cheered everybody of consequence, I went back with the - others to eat up the remains of Simmy's fine luncheon, and you may - guess how we revelled in jellies and fruit. - - "The boys in our house now play at cricket in the corridor." - - - "_June._--I have been cricket-fagging all evening, and it was - dreadful; Platt was down, the catapulta was used, and there were - very few fags, so I had very hard fagging.... Platt bellowed at me - for my stupidity, and Platt's word is an oracle, and Platt's nod - strikes terror into all around." - - - "_June 16._--I have been for my Exeat to Brook Street.... At - breakfast the Archbishop of Dublin came in. He is a very funny old - man[45] and says such funny things. He gave us proverbs, and - everybody a piece of good advice." - - - "_July._--I have found a beautiful old house called Essingham - standing in a moat full of clear water. It is said to have been - inhabited once by Cardinal Wolsey. - - "Last night I cricket-fagged, very hard work, and I made Platt very - angry; but when I told him my name, he quite changed, and said I - must practise and learn to throw up better, and when the other - monitors said I ought to be wapped, Platt (!!) said, 'I will take - compassion upon him, because when I first came to Harrow I could do - no better.'" - -If it had not been for constant sickness, the summer holidays of 1847 -would have been very happy ones. I found my dear old Grandmother Mrs. -Oswald Leycester at Lime, which prevented our going to the Rectory, and -it was the greatest happiness to read to her, to lead her about, and in -every way to show my gratitude for past kindnesses at Stoke. When she -left us, we went for the rest of the holidays to the Palace at Norwich, -which was always enchanting to me--from the grand old library with its -secret room behind the bookcase, to the little room down a staircase of -its own, where the old nurse Mrs. Burgess lived--one of the thinnest and -dearest old women ever seen--surrounded by relics of her former charges. -Aunt Kitty was pleased with my improvement in drawing, and she and Kate -Stanley encouraged me very much in the endless sketches I made of the -old buildings in Norwich. "Honour the beginner, even if the follower -does better," is a good old Arabic proverb which they thoroughly -understood and practised. We spent the day with the Gurneys at Earlham, -where I saw the heavenly-minded Mrs. Catherine Gurney ("Aunt Catherine") -and also Mrs. Fry, in her long dark dress and close white cap, and we -went to visit the Palgraves at Yarmouth in a wonderful old house which -once belonged to Ireton the regicide. But a greater delight was a visit -of several days which we paid to the Barings at Cromer Hall, driving -the whole way with the Stanleys through Blickling and Aylsham, a journey -which Arthur Stanley made most charming by the books which he read to us -about the places we passed through. We lingered on the way with Miss -Anna Gurney, a little old lady, who was paralysed at a very early age, -yet had devoted her whole life to the good of those around her, and who, -while never free from suffering herself, seemed utterly unconscious of -her own trials in thinking of those of others. She lived in a beautiful -little cottage at Northrepps, full of fossils and other treasures, close -to the sea-coast. - -Lord and Lady Shrewsbury[46] (the father and mother of the Princesses -Doria and Borghese) came to meet my mother at Cromer Hall, perfectly -full of the miraculous powers of "L'Estatica" and "L'Addolorata," which -they had witnessed in Italy, and of which they gave most extraordinary -accounts. - -The kindness of "Uncle Norwich" caused me to love him as much as I -dreaded Uncle Julius. In his dealings with his diocese I have heard that -he was apt as a bishop to be tremendously impetuous; but my aunt knew -how to calm him, and managed him admirably. He wonderfully wakened up -clerical life in Norfolk. Well remembered is the sharpness with which he -said to Dean Pellew, who objected to a cross being erected on the -outside of the cathedral, "Never be ashamed of the cross, Mr. Dean, -never be ashamed of the cross." It was his custom to pay surprise visits -to all Norwich churches on Sunday afternoons. On one of these occasions, -an old clergyman--fellow of his college for forty years--who had lately -taken a small living in the town, was the preacher. High and dry was the -discourse. Going into the vestry afterwards, "A very old-fashioned -sermon, Mr. H.," said the Bishop. "A very good-fashioned sermon _I_ -think, my lord," answered the vicar. - -[Illustration: Edward Stanley - -Bishop of Norwich.] - -In those days a very primitive state of things prevailed in the Norwich -churches. A clergyman, newly ordained, provided for by a title at St. -George's, Colegate, was exercised by finding the large well-thumbed -folio Prayer-book in the church marked with certain hieroglyphics. -Amongst these O and OP frequently recurred. On the curate making inquiry -of the clerk if there were any instructions he ought to follow during -the service, he was informed that his active predecessor had established -a choir and had reopened an organ closed from time immemorial. He had -done this without any reference to the incumbent, who was so deaf that -he could hear neither organ nor choir. Thus it happened that when they -came to the "Venite," the incumbent read, as usual, the first verse. -From long usage and habit he knew, to a second, the moment when the -clerk would cease reading verse two, and then commenced reading the -third verse, the clerk below him making frantic signs with his hand, -which were quite incomprehensible: and it was not until the reading of -the fifth verse that he understood he had better be silent -altogether, and leave the field to the organ and choir, of whose -performances he had not heard one single sound. He was determined not to -be taken aback again, so, consulting with the clerk, he elicited when -the performances of the organ would take place, and marked these for his -guidance with a large O or OP--_organ plays_. - -When the curate of whom I have spoken was first ordained, the incumbent -gave him instructions as to what he was to do. Afterwards he found him -visiting and over-zealous for the age, and said, "Now don't do too much -in the parish, and _never_ give anything away." The curate expressed -surprise, when he added, "If you _want_ to give, always come to me"--a -suggestion the curate never failed to carry out. The rector had a very -poor opinion of clergymen who wrote fresh sermons every week. "I've only -got two sermons for every Sunday in the year, and I preach them all -every year. I don't see why I should trouble myself to write any more, -for when I preach them, I find I don't recollect them myself, so it's -quite impossible the congregation should." As reminiscences of a type of -clergyman very common at this time, but nearly extinct now, these notes -seem worth recording. - -Most of the Norfolk clergy were then old-fashioned conservatives of the -first water. One day at a clerical dinner-party at the Palace, the -Bishop, probably with the view of improving the taste of his guests, -said, "When I first came into this diocese, I found the clergy would -drink nothing but port. I used every means I could think of to alter a -taste I could not myself enter into. All failed. At last I hit upon -something which I thought was sure to be successful. I told my -wine-merchant to send me the best of all other wines and the nastiest of -port. But the clergy still insisted upon drinking the nasty port. So, -when I felt my plan had failed, I wrote to my wine-merchant again, and -told him to let them have it good." - -The Bishop used to be greatly amused by an epitaph in Bergh Apton -Church, which said that the man commemorated was "very free of his -port," meaning that he was very hospitable (from _portcullis_), but the -common people always thought it meant that he drank a great deal of -port. - -My dear old uncle was a capital bishop, and his clergy gradually learnt -to think him so. But it was a sailor he had wished to be. He had been -better fitted for that profession originally. Indeed, when he was a very -little child he had such a passion for the sea, that once when he was -missed from his cot, he was found asleep on the high shelf of a -wardrobe, having climbed up there because he thought it was like a -berth. Through life he was one of those men who never want presence of -mind, and this often stood him in good stead. One Advent Sunday it was -the Bishop's turn to preach in the cathedral, where the soldiers in the -barracks usually attend the service: but it was terrible weather, and, -with due regard to their pipe-clay, they were all absent that morning. -The Bishop had prepared his sermon especially for the soldiers he -expected to hear it, and he had no other. But he was quite equal to the -occasion, for, after he had given out the text, he began--"Now _this_ is -the sermon I should have preached if the soldiers had been here," and -went on, without concerning himself further about their absence. - -On another occasion he fell fast asleep in the cathedral during the -sermon. At the end, when the choir broke out into the "Amen," he -suddenly awoke. In that moment he could not collect himself to remember -the words of the blessing, but, "Peace be with you" he exclaimed very -solemnly, and it did quite well. - -"Uncle Norwich," with his snow-white hair and black eyebrows, and his -eager impetuous manner, was a somewhat startling figure to come upon -suddenly. There was a private door in the wall in a remote corner of the -palace-garden. A rather nervous clergyman who lived close by had passed -it for years, and had never seen it open. His curiosity was greatly -excited about it. One day when he was passing, he could not resist the -impulse, and looking up and down the road, and seeing neither the Bishop -nor any of the Stanley family about, though very shy, he stooped down to -peep in at the keyhole. At that moment the Bishop's key entered the lock -on the other side, the door flew open, and he found himself confronted -by the Bishop in person! - -It was soon after we left Norwich that Jenny Lind, then at the height of -her fame, went to stay at the Palace, and great was the family -enthusiasm about her. My aunt conceived an affection for her which was -almost maternal. Arthur Stanley admired her exceedingly, in spite of his -hatred of music, but amused her when he said, "I think you would be -_most_ delightful if you had no voice." - -At the end of August I returned to Harrow. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Harrow, Sept. 10._--Alas! our form is under Mr. Oxenham. He has - the power of flogging, and does flog very often for the least - fault, for he really enjoys it. He is such an old man, very old, - very sharp, very indolent, very preachy. Sometimes he falls asleep - when we are in form, and the boys stick curl-papers through his - hair, and he never finds it out. He always calls his boys 'stupid - little fools,' without meaning anything particular by it. This - morning he said to me, 'Stuff and nonsense, stupid little fool; - don't make yourself a stupider little fool than you are.' He is - always called 'Billy.'" - - - "_Sept._--I have been racket-fagging all afternoon. It is such - dismal work. You have to stand in one corner of the square court - and throw all the balls that come that way to the 'feeders,' who - throw them to the players when they are wanted. The great amusement - of P., one of those I fag for, is to hit the racket-balls with all - his might at the fags, and he tried to cut me off a great many - times, but missed. At last P. said, 'I'll go and get another fag - instead of that young beast Hare,' and he went, but he never came - back, or the fag either. - - "One day our room bought a pipkin, saucepan, and frying-pan to cook - things in, but Mrs. Collins (the matron) took away the frying-pan, - and the others were bagged. But we got another pipkin, and one - night as we were cooking some potatoes, in little slices as we have - them at home, they made such a smell that Mrs. Collins came up, and - told Simmy, and he was very angry, and would not let us have fires - for a week, and _said_ we should all have extra pupil-room; but - fortunately he forgot about that." - - - A. P. STANLEY _to_ A. J. C. H. - - "_University College, Oxford, Oct. 16._--The Goblin presents his - compliments to the Ghost, and will give him a leaf of a bay-tree - from Delphi, a piece of marble from Athens, and a bit of tin from - the Cassiterides, on condition that the Ghost can tell him where - those places are, and where the Goblin shall send these treasures." - - - A. J. C. H. _to_ A. P. STANLEY. - - "Delphi is the capital of Phocis and the seat of the oracle in - Greece. Athens is capital of Attica in Greece, and the Cassiterides - are islands in the Western Ocean. The Ghost presents his - compliments to the Goblin, thanks him very much, tells him where - the places are, and begs him to send the things from those places - to the usual haunt of the Ghost. The Ghost has communicated the - Goblin's stories of the beautiful Hesketh and Mrs. Fox to the boys - at night. The Ghost flitted up Harrow church-steeple yesterday, and - was locked up inside. Farewell, Goblin, from your most grateful - cousin--the Ghost." - -This letter reminds me how I used to tell stories to the boys in our -room after we had gone to bed: it was by them that I was first asked to -"tell stories." - -The winter of 1847-48 was one of those which were rendered quite -miserable to me by the way in which I was driven to the Rectory, where -Aunt Esther made me more wretched than ever, and by being scarcely ever -permitted to remain in my own dear home. I fear that in later days I -should have acted a part, and pretended to _like_ going to the Rectory, -when it would instantly have been considered unnecessary, the one -thought in the mind of all the family being that it was a duty to force -me to do what I disliked; but at that time I was too ingenuous to -indulge in even the most innocent kinds of deception. My own brothers, -Francis and William, who were now at Eton, came to the Rectory for part -of their holidays, but their upbringing and their characters had so -little in common with my own, that we were never very intimate, though I -rather liked them than otherwise. They hated the Rectory, and got away -from it whenever they could. - -Of all the miserable days in the year, Christmas was the worst. I -regarded it with loathing unutterable. The presents of the quintessence -of rubbish which I had to receive from my aunts with outward grace and -gratitude. The finding all my usual avocations and interests cleared -away. The having to sit for hours and hours pretending to be deeply -interested in the six huge volumes of Foxe's "Book of Martyrs," one of -which was always doled out for my mental sustenance. The being -compelled--usually with agonising chilblains--to walk twice to church, -eight miles through the snow or piercing marsh winds, and sit for hours -in mute anguish of congelation, with one of Uncle Julius's interminable -sermons in the afternoon, about which at that time I heartily agreed -with a poor woman, Philadelphia Isted, who declared that they were "the -biggest of nonsense." Then, far the worst of all, the Rectory and its -sneerings and snubbings in the evening. - -My mother took little or no notice of all this--her thoughts, her heart, -were far away. To her Christmas was simply "the festival of the birth of -Christ." Her whole spiritual being was absorbed in it: earth did not -signify: she did not and could not understand why it was not always the -same with her little boy. - -I was not allowed to have any holidays this year, and was obliged to do -lessons all morning with Mr. Venables, the curate.[47] At this I wonder -now, as every day my health was growing worse. I was constantly sick, -and grew so thin that I was almost a skeleton, which I really believe -now to have been entirely caused by the way in which the miseries of my -home life preyed upon my excessively sensitive nervous disposition. -And, instead of my mind being braced, I was continually talked to about -death and hell, and urged to meditate upon them. Towards the close of -the holidays I was so ill that at last my mother was alarmed, and took -me to a Mr. Bigg, who declared that I had distinct curvature of the -spine, and put my poor little back into a terrible iron frame, into -which my shoulders were fastened as into a vice. Of course, _with_ this, -I ought never to have been sent back to Harrow, but this was not -understood. Then, as hundreds of times afterwards, when I saw that my -mother was really unhappy about me, I bore any amount of suffering -without a word rather than add to her distress, and I see now that my -letters are full of allusions to the ease with which I was bearing "my -armour" at school, while my own recollection is one of intolerable -anguish, stooping being almost impossible. - -That I got on tolerably well at Harrow, even with my "armour" on, is a -proof that I never was ill-treated there. I have often, however, with -Lord Eustace Cecil (who was at Harrow with me), recalled since how -terrible the bullying was in our time--of the constant cruelty at -"Harris's," where the little boys were always made to come down and box -in the evening for the delectation of the fifth form:--of how little -boys were constantly sent in the evening to Famish's--half-way to the -cricket-ground, to bring back porter under their greatcoats, certain to -be flogged by the head-master if they were caught, and to be "wapped" by -the sixth form boys if they did not go, and infinitely preferring the -former:--of how, if the boys did not "keep up" at football, they were -made to cut large thorn sticks out of the hedges, and flogged with them -till the blood poured down outside their jerseys. Indeed, what with -fagging and bullying, servility was as much inculcated at Harrow in -those days as if it was likely to be a desirable acquirement in after -life. - -I may truly say that I never learnt anything useful at Harrow, and had -little chance of learning anything. Hours and hours were wasted daily on -useless Latin verses with sickening monotony. A boy's school education -at this time, except in the highest forms, was hopelessly inane. - -In some ways, however, this "quarter" at Harrow was much pleasanter than -the preceding ones. I had a more established place in the school, and -was on more friendly terms with all the boys in my own house; also, -with my "armour," the hated racket-fagging was an impossibility. I had -many scrambles about the country with Buller[48] in search of eggs and -flowers, which we painted afterwards most carefully and perseveringly; -and, assisted by Buller, I got up a sort of private theatricals on a -very primitive scale, turning Grimm's fairy stories into little plays, -which were exceedingly popular with the house, but strictly forbidden by -the tutor, Mr. Simpkinson or "Simmy." Thus I was constantly in hot water -about them. One day when we had got up a magnificent scene, in which I, -as "Snowdrop," lay locked in a magic sleep in an imaginary cave, watched -by dwarfs and fairies, Simmy came in and stood quietly amongst the -spectators, and I was suddenly awakened from my trance by the _sauve qui -peut_ which followed the discovery. Great punishments were the result. -Yet, not long after, we could not resist a play on a grander -scale--something about the "Fairy Tilburina" out of the "Man in the -Moon," for which we learnt our parts and had regular dresses made. It -was to take place in the fifth form room on the ground-floor between the -two divisions of the house, and just as Tilburina (Buller) was -descending one staircase in full bridal attire, followed by her -bridesmaids, of whom I was one, Simmy himself suddenly appeared on the -opposite staircase and caught us. - -These enormities now made my monthly "reports," when they were sent -home, anything but favourable; but I believe my mother was intensely -diverted by them: I am sure that the Stanleys were. A worse crime, -however, was our passion for cooking, in which we became exceedingly -expert. Very soon after a tremendous punishment for having been caught -for the second time frying potato chips, we formed the audacious project -of cooking a hare! The hare was bought, and the dreadful inside was -disposed of with much the same difficulty and secrecy, and in much the -same manner, in which the Richmond murderess disposed of her victims; -but we had never calculated how long the creature would take to roast -even with a good fire, much more by our wretched embers: and long before -it was accomplished, Mrs. Collins, the matron, was down upon us, and we -and the hare were taken into ignominious custody. - -Another great amusement was making sulphur casts and electrotypes, and -we really made some very good ones. - -My great love for anything of historic romance, however, rendered the -Louis Philippe revolution the overwhelming interest of this quarter, and -put everything else into the shade. In the preceding autumn the murder -of the Duchesse de Praslin had occupied every one, and we boys used to -lie on the floor for hours poring over the horrible map of the -murder-room which appeared in the "Illustrated," in which all the pools -of blood were indicated. But that was nothing to the enthusiastic -interest over the sack of the Tuileries and the escape of the Royal -Family: I have never known anything like it in after life. - -I have often heard since much of the immoralities of a public-school -life, but I can truly say that when I was there, I saw nothing of them. -A very few boys, however, can change the whole character of a school, -especially in a wrong direction. "A little worm-wood can pollute a hive -of honey," was one of the wise sayings of Pius II. I do not think that -my morals were a bit the worse for Harrow, but from what I have heard -since of all that went on there even in my time, I can only conclude it -was because--at that time certainly--"je n'avais pas le goût du peché," -as I once read in a French novel. - -At Easter, 1848, I left Harrow for the holidays, little imagining that I -should never return there. I should have been very sorry had I known it. -On the whole, the pleasurable "adventures" of a public-school life had -always outweighed its disagreeables; though I was never in strong enough -health for any real benefit or enjoyment. - - - - -IV - -LYNCOMBE - - "Les longues maladies usent la douleur, et les longues espérances - usent la joie."--MME. DE SÉVIGNÉ. - - "One adequate support - For the calamities of mortal life - Exists, one only--an assured belief - That the procession of our fate, however - Sad or disturbed, is ordered by a Being - Of infinite benevolence and power, - Whose everlasting purposes embrace - All accidents, converting them to good." - - --WORDSWORTH. - - "Condemned to Hope's delusive mire, - As we toil on from day to day - By sudden stroke or slow decline - Our means of comfort drop away." - - --JOHNSON. - - "It is well we cannot see into the future. There are few boys - of fourteen who would not be ashamed of themselves at forty." - - --JEROME K. JEROME. - - -Of all the unhappy summers of my boyhood, that of 1848 was the most -miserable. When I left Harrow at Easter, I was very really ill. The iron -frame which had been made for my back had seriously injured the spine -which it was intended to cure, and a bad fall down the school steps at -Harrow had increased the malady. When Sir Benjamin Brodie saw me, he -said that I must lie down for at least the greater part of many months, -and that a return to Harrow was quite out of the question. This, -however, was concealed from me at first, and when I knew it, I was too -ill to have any regrets. We went first to Torquay, stopping on the way -to visit Mrs. Alexander, a person who afterwards, for some years, bore a -large share in our life. In her youth, as Miss Mary Manning, she had -been a governess in the family of Sir John Malcolm, and, while living -with the Malcolms at Hyde Hall near Cambridge, had been the most -intimate early friend of my Uncle Julius. People generally thought that -he had been engaged to her, but this, I believe, was never the case. She -had married a Mr. Alexander, a physician at Edinburgh, who soon left her -a widow, and since that time she had possessed no settled home. She was -very tall, serene, and had a beautiful countenance, and her -old-fashioned dress was always wonderfully refined and in keeping with -her appearance. She seemed to have the power of imposing her own -personality upon her surroundings, and subduing the life and movement -around her into an intellectual as well as a physical calm. She had a -melodious low voice, a delicate Scotch accent, a perfectly -self-possessed manner, and a sweet and gentle dignity. In conversation -she was witty and genial, but never rude. With wonderful power of -narration, she had the art of throwing unspeakable interest and charm -over the most commonplace things: yet she never exaggerated. All the -clever men who came in contact with her were bound under her spell. -Whewell, Worsley, Landor, Bunsen, Sedgwick adored her, and did not -wonder at my uncle's adoration. Saint-Amand's description of Mme. de -Maintenon might have been written for her--"Elle garda, dans sa -vieillesse, cette supériorité de style et de langage, cette distinction -de manières, ce tact exquis, cette finesse, cette douceur et cette -fermeté de caractère, ce charme et cette élévation d'esprit qui, à -toutes les époques de son existence, lui valurent tant d'éloges et lui -attirèrent tant d'amitié." - -This is one view of Mrs. Alexander, and, as far as it goes, it is -perfectly true. But scarcely any characters are all of one piece. She -was also boundlessly subtle, and when she had an object in view she -spared no means to attain it. For her own ends, with her sweetness -unruffled, she would remorselessly sacrifice her best friends. The most -egotistical woman in the world, she _expected_ every one to fall under -her spell, and calmly and gently but consistently hated any one who -escaped. Whilst she almost imperceptibly flattered her superiors in rank -and position, she ruthlessly and often heartlessly trampled upon those -whom she (sometimes wrongly) considered her inferiors. She demanded -sovereignty in every house she entered, and she could always find a way -to punish rebellion. She made herself friends that "men might receive -her into their houses," and when she had once entered them she never -relaxed her foothold. - -There is a description in the Life of George Sand which might be well -applied to this view of Mrs. Alexander--"Elle était une personne glacée -autant que glaciale.... Ce n'était pas qu'elle ne fut aimable, elle -était gracieuse à la surface, un grand savoir-vivre lui tenant lieu de -grace véritable. Mais elle n'aimait réellement personne et ne -s'intéressait à rien qu'à elle-même." - -When we first saw Mrs. Alexander, she was living in a small lodging at -Heavitree near Exeter. In the following year she came to Hurstmonceaux -Rectory for three days and stayed three weeks. The year after she came -for three weeks and stayed five years. From the first she was supreme at -the Rectory, ruling even Aunt Esther with unswerving and ever-increasing -power; but on the whole her presence was an advantage. Her education and -strong understanding enabled her to enter into all my uncle's pursuits -and interests as his wife could never have done, and to outsiders she -was usually suave, courteous, and full of agreeable conversation. - -[Illustration: THE TOWER AT ROCKEND, TORQUAY.] - -Uncle Julius and Aunt Esther visited Rockend when we were there, and as -my aunts when together generally acted as foils to each other, I should -have been at liberty to enjoy the really beautiful place--its delightful -gardens, storm-beaten rocks, and the tower where Aunt Lucy "made her -meditations"--if I had been well enough; but I had generally to spend -the greater part of the day lying upon the floor on a hard backboard and -in a state of great suffering. It was often an interest at this time to -listen to Uncle Julius as he read aloud in the family circle passages -connected with the French Revolution, Kingsley's "Saint's Tragedy," -which had then recently appeared, or the papers which my uncle and his -friends were then contributing to the Magazine for the People which -Kingsley was getting up. No one read so well as Uncle Julius--a whole -whirlwind of tragedy, an unutterable depth of anguish and pathos could -be expressed in the mere tone of his voice; and it was not merely tone; -he really thus _felt_ what he read, and so carried away his listeners, -that all their actual surroundings were invisible or forgotten. Those -who never heard Julius Hare read the Communion Service can have no idea -of the depths of humility and passion in those sublime prayers. - -In everything Uncle Julius was as unsuited to the nineteenth century as -he well could be. He used to declare that he never would read a book -which he knew would interest him, till the exact mood of his mind was -fitted for it, till the sun happened to be shining where it ought, and -till weather and time and situation all combined to suit the subject and -give its full effect, and he usually had numbers of books by him waiting -for this happy conjunction, but, when it arrived, he did the books full -justice. - -I never saw any one so violent, so unmitigated in his likes and dislikes -as Uncle Julius, so furious in his approval or condemnation. "Il avait -une grande hardiesse, pour ne pas dire effronterie," as Bassompierre -wrote of the Duke of Buckingham. In his despotic imperiousness he had no -sympathy with the feelings and weaknesses of others, though -inexpressible pity for all their greater misfortunes or sorrows. - -Another person of whom we saw much at this time was the really -saint-like Harry Grey, my mother's first cousin, who was living at -Babbicombe. He was heir to the Earldom of Stamford (to which his son -afterwards succeeded), but a clergyman, and very poor. - -I was so ill when we returned home, almost everything I ate producing -violent sickness, that it is astonishing my health should not have been -considered a primary object. A few weeks of healthy life on moors or by -the sea-side, with freedom from the gnawing mental misery and depression -under which I suffered, would probably have restored me; a visit to -German baths might have cured me, and saved years of ill-health. Had the -family only had any practical common-sense! But, on religious grounds, -it was thought wrong to contend against "the wonderful leadings of God's -Providence"--pain was "sent" to be endured, sickness as a tractor to -draw its victims to heaven; and all simple and rational means of -restoration to a healthy and healthful life were disregarded. Sago with -brandy in it was provided instead of meat for my physical, and an -inexhaustible supply of tracts, hymns, and little sermons for my mental -digestion. Patient endurance of suffering, the following of the most -unpleasant path which duty could be thought to point out, and that -without hope of either reward or release, were the virtues which even my -mother most inculcated at this time. - -Then a private tutor was sought for--not by knowledge, not by inquiry at -the Universities, not by careful investigation of attainments for -teaching, but by an advertisement. The inquiry as to all the letters -which answered it was whether they appeared to be "those of truly pious -men"--_i.e._, whether they were written in the peculiar phraseology then -supposed to denote such a character. At last one was accepted, and a -tutor arrived, who was--well, I will not describe him further than as -certainly the most unprepossessing of human beings: Nature had been so -terribly hard upon him. - -With this truly unfortunate man I was shut up every morning in the hope -that he would teach me something, a task he was wholly unequal to; and -then I had to walk out with him. Naturally there were scenes and -recriminations on both sides, in which I was by no means blameless. But -daily my health grew worse, and scarcely a morning passed without my -having an agonising fit of suffocation, from contraction of the muscles -of the throat, gasping for breath in misery unutterable. The aunts said -it was all nervous. I have no doubt it was: I have had plenty of -experience of hysteria since, and it is the most dreadful disorder that -exists. - -At last my sufferings were such, from the relaxing air of Hurstmonceaux, -that I was taken to Eastbourne, but an attempt was still made to chain -me down for six or eight hours a day in a stuffy lodging at lessons with -my tutor, who had not an idea of teaching and knew nothing to teach. -Poor man! he was at least quite as wretched as I was, and I know that he -thirsted quite as much for the fresh air of the downs. Aunt Esther came -over, and used cruelly to talk, in my presence, of the fatigue and -trouble which my ill-health caused my mother, and of the burden which -she had thus brought upon herself by adopting me. It is only by God's -mercy that I did not commit suicide. I was often on the point of -throwing myself over the cliffs, when all would have been over in an -instant, and was _only_ restrained by my intense love for my mother, and -the feeling that her apparently dormant affection would be awakened by -such a catastrophe, and that she would always be miserable in such an -event. Twenty-two years afterwards, when we were as closely united as it -was possible for any mother and son to be, my darling mother reverted of -her own accord to this terrible time: she could never die happy, she -said, unless she knew that her after love had quite effaced the -recollection of it. - -[Illustration: WILMINGTON PRIORY.] - -Yet, even in these wretched months at Eastbourne there were oases of -comfort--days when my "Aunt Kitty and Lou Clinton" came down, and, with -"le cœur haut placé" and sound common-sense, seemed to set everything -right; and other days when I made excursions alone with my mother to -Jevington in the Downs, or to Wilmington with its old ruin and yew-tree, -where we used to be kindly entertained by the primitive old Rector, Mr. -Cooper, and his wife. - -When I went, in 1877, to visit Alfred Tennyson the poet, he asked me to -give him a subject for "A Domestic Village Tragedy." The story which I -told him occurred at Hurstmonceaux this summer. Mrs. Coleman, who kept -the "dame's school" at Flowers Green, had a niece, Caroline Crowhurst, a -very pretty girl, the belle of the parish, and as amiable and good as -she was pretty, so that every one was friends with her. She became -engaged, rather against the will of her family, to a commercial -traveller from a distance. He wrote to her, and she wrote to him, -maidenly letters, but full of deep affection. One day they had a little -quarrel, and the man, the fiend, took the most intimate, the most -caressing of these letters and nailed it up against the Brewery in the -centre of Gardner Street, where all the village might read it and scoff -at it. As the people knew Caroline, no one scoffed, and all pitied her. -But Caroline herself came to the village shop that afternoon; she saw -her letter hanging there, and it broke her heart. She said nothing about -it to any one, and she did not shed a tear, but she went home and kissed -her aunt and her mother more tenderly than usual; she gathered the -prettiest flowers in her little garden and put them in her bosom, and -then she opened the lid of the draw-well close to her home and let -herself in. The lid closed upon her. - -[Illustration: FLOWERS GREEN, HURSTMONCEAUX.] - -I remember the news coming to Lime one evening that Caroline Crowhurst -was missing, and the dreadful shock the next morning when we heard that -the poor girl had been found in the well. My mother, who had known her -from her birth, felt it very deeply, for at Hurstmonceaux we were on -the most intimate terms with the poor people, and Philadelphia Isted, -Mercy Butler, dear old Mrs. Piper the schoolmistress, Ansley Vine of the -shop, grumbling old Mrs. Holloway (who always said she should be so glad -when she was dead because then people would believe she had been ill), -the crippled Louisa Wood, the saint-like bedridden Mrs. Wisham, and -gentle Mrs. Medhurst, who lived amongst the primroses of "the lower -road"--all these, and many more, were as familiar to me as my own -nearest relations. To many of them, when well enough, I went regularly, -and to Mrs. Piper, who had lived in the time of the castle, and known my -father and his brothers from babyhood, almost every day. Her death was a -real affliction. My mother walked behind her coffin at her funeral. In -her will she left me a box which had belonged to my unhappy little -ancestress, Grace Naylor. - -At the end of July my real mother, "Italima," with my sister, came to -stay at the Rectory. The visit was arranged to last a month, but -unhappily on the second day of her stay, Italima went out with Aunt -Esther. They came home walking on different sides of the road, and as -soon as she entered the house Italima sent for post-horses to her -carriage and drove away. I have never heard what happened, but Italima -never came to the Rectory again. Soon afterwards she fixed her residence -at Rome, in the Palazzo Parisani, which then occupied two sides of the -Piazza S. Claudio. - -In August it was decided to send me away to a private tutor's, and my -mother and Uncle Julius went with me to Lyncombe, near Bath. My tutor -was the Rev. H. S. R., son of a well-known evangelical writer, but by no -means of the same spiritual grace: indeed I never could discover that he -had any grace whatever; neither had he any mental acquirements, or the -slightest power of teaching. He was "un homme absolument nul," and -though paid a very large salary, he grossly and systematically neglected -all his duties as a tutor. Uncle Julius must have been perfectly aware -how inefficient the education at Lyncombe would be, but he was probably -not to blame for sending me there. Because I did not "get on" (really -because I was never taught), he regarded me as the slave of -indolence--"putrescent indolence" he would have called it, like Mr. -Carlyle. He considered me, however, to be harmless, though fit for -nothing, and therefore one to be sent where I should probably get no -harm, though certainly no good either. It was the system he went upon -with my brothers also, and in their case he had all the responsibility, -being their guardian. But, indeed, Uncle Julius's view was always much -that of Rogers--"God sends sons, but the devil sends nephews," and he -shunted them accordingly. - - "Les grands esprits, d'ailleurs très estimables, - Ont très peu de talent pour former leurs semblables." - -I went to Lyncombe with the utmost curiosity. The house was a large -villa, oddly built upon arches in the hollow of a wooded valley about a -mile from Bath, behind the well-known Beechen Cliff. At the back of it -was a lawn with very steep wooded banks at the sides, and a fountain and -pool, showing that the place had once been of some importance, and -behind the lawn, meadows with steep banks led towards the heights of -Combe Down. We all had rooms to ourselves at Lyncombe, scantily -furnished, and with barely a strip of carpet, but we could decorate them -with pictures, &c., if we liked. We did our lessons, when we were -supposed to do them, at regular hours, in the dining-room, where we had -our meals, and after work was finished in the evening, and eight -o'clock tea, we were expected to sit with Mrs. R. in the drawing-room. - -But we had an immense deal of time to ourselves--the whole afternoon we -were free to go where we liked; we were not expected to give any account -of what we did, and might get into as much mischief as we chose. Also, -we too frequently had whole holidays, which Mr. R.'s idle habits made -him only too glad to bestow, but which I often did not in the least know -what to do with. - -Eagerly did I survey my new companions, who were much older than myself, -and with whom I was likely to live exclusively, with none of the chances -of making other friendships which a public school affords. Three of them -were quiet youths of no especial character: the fourth was Temple -Harris,[49] at once the friend, enlivener, and torment of the following -year. - -On the whole, at first I was not unhappy at Lyncombe. I liked the almost -unlimited time for roaming over the country, and the fresh air did much -to strengthen me. But gradually, when I had seen all the places within -reach, this freedom palled, and I felt with disgust that, terribly -ignorant as I was, I was learning nothing, and that I had no chance of -learning anything except what I could teach myself. Whilst Temple Harris -stayed at Lyncombe, we spent a great deal of time in writing stories, -ballads, &c., for a MS. magazine which we used to produce once a week; -and this was not wholly useless, from the facility of composition which -it gave me. But after Temple Harris left, the utter waste of life at -Lyncombe palled upon me terribly, and I made, in desperation, great -efforts to instruct myself, which, with no books and with every possible -hindrance from without, was difficult enough. After a fashion, however, -I succeeded in teaching myself French, stumbling through an interesting -story-book with Grammar and Dictionary, till I had learnt to read with -ease; of the pronunciation I naturally knew nothing. Two miserable years -and a half of life were utterly wasted at Lyncombe, before Arthur -Stanley came to visit me there, and rescued me by his representation of -the utter neglect and stagnation in which I was living. It had been so -hammered into my mind by my aunts that I was a burden to my mother, and -that she was worn out with the trouble I had given her in finding my -first private tutor, that I should never of myself have ventured to try -to persuade her to look out for a second. - -My earlier letters to my mother from Lyncombe are filled with nothing -but descriptions of the scenery round Bath, of which I formed a most -exaggerated estimate, as I had seen so little with which I could compare -it. Once a week at least I used to go into Bath itself, to dine with my -father's old friend Walter Savage Landor, who had been driven away from -his Florentine home by his wife's violent temper. Mr. Landor's rooms (in -Catherine Place, and afterwards at 2 Rivers Street) were entirely -covered with pictures, the frames fitting close to one another, leaving -not the smallest space of wall visible. One or two of these pictures -were real works of art, but as a rule he had bought them at Bath, quite -willing to imagine that the little shops of the Bath dealers could be -storehouses of Titians, Giorgiones, and Vandycks. The Bath -picture-dealers never had such a time; for some years almost all their -wares made their way to Mr. Landor's walls. Mr. Landor lived alone with -his beautiful white Spitz dog Pomero, which he allowed to do whatever it -liked, and frequently to sit in the oddest way on the bald top of his -head. He would talk to Pomero by the hour together, poetry, philosophy, -whatever he was thinking of, all of it imbued with his own powerful -personality, and would often roar with laughter till the whole house -seemed to shake. I have never heard a laugh like that of Mr. -Landor--"deep-mouthed Beotian Savage Landor," as Byron called him--such -a regular cannonade.[50] He was "the sanest madman and the maddest -reasonable man in the world," as Cervantes says of Don Quixote. In the -evenings he would sit for hours in impassioned contemplation: in the -mornings he wrote incessantly, to fling off sheet after sheet for the -_Examiner_, seldom looking them over afterwards. He scarcely ever read, -for he only possessed one shelf of books. If any one gave him a volume, -he mastered it and gave it away, and this he did because he believed -that if he knew he was to keep the book and be able to refer to it, he -should not be able to absorb its contents so as to retain them. When he -left Florence, he had made over all he possessed to his wife, retaining -only £200 a year--afterwards increased to £400--for himself, and this -sufficed for his simple needs. He never bought any new clothes, and a -chimney-sweep would have been ashamed to wear his coat, which was always -the same as long as I knew him, though it in no way detracted from his -majestic and lion-like appearance. But he was very particular about his -little dinners, and it was about these that his violent explosions of -passion usually took place. I have seen him take a pheasant up by the -legs when it was brought to table and throw it into the back of the fire -over the head of the servant in attendance. This was always a failing, -and, in later days, I have heard Mr. Browning describe how in his fury -at being kept waiting for dinner at Siena, he shouted: "I will not eat -it now, I will not eat it if it comes," and, when it came, threw it all -out of the window. - -At the same time nothing could be more nobly courteous than his manner -to his guests, and this was as marked towards an ignorant schoolboy as -towards his most distinguished visitor; and his conversation, whilst -calculated to put all his visitors at their ease and draw out their best -points, was always wise, chivalrous, pure, and witty. - -At one time Mr. Landor's son Walter came to stay with him, but he was an -ignorant rough youth, and never got on well with his father. I believe -Mr. Landor preferred me at this time to any of his own children, and -liked better to have me with him; yet he must often have been grievously -disappointed that I could so little reciprocate about the Latin verses -of which he so constantly talked to me, and that indeed I could seldom -understand them, though he was so generous and high-bred that he never -would allow me to feel mortified. Mrs. Lynn Linton, then Miss Lynn, was -by her almost filial attentions a great comfort to Landor during the -earlier years of his exile at Bath. Another person, whom he liked, was a -pretty young Bath lady, Miss Fray, who often came to dine with him when -I was there. After dinner Mr. Landor generally had a nap, and would say, -"Now, Augustus, I'm going to sleep, so make love to Miss Fray"--which -was rather awkward.[51] - -These were the best friends of Lander's solitude; most of his other -visitors were sycophants and flatterers, and though he despised the -persons, he did not always dislike the flattery. Swift says truly-- - - "'Tis an old maxim in the schools, - That flattery's the food of fools; - Yet now and then your men of wit - Will condescend to take a bit." - -Another resident of whom I saw much at Bath was my mother's cousin, Miss -Harriet Dumbleton (her mother was a Leycester)--an old maiden lady, who -lived in the most primitive manner, really scarcely allowing herself -enough to eat, because, like St. Elizabeth, though she had a very good -fortune, she had given everything she had to the poor. She would even -sell her furniture, books, and pictures, to give away the money they -realised. But she was a most agreeable, witty, lively person, and it was -always a great pleasure to go to her. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Lyncombe, Sept. 12._--I have been here four days, but only to-day - did Mr. R. _begin_ to attempt any lessons with me. He was very - impatient, and I got so puzzled and confused, I could scarcely do - anything at all; all my sums and everything else were wrong. - Warriner and Hebden were very kind, and did all they could to help - me. I like Warriner very much. To-day I have done much better, and - I really do try to do well, dearest Mamma." - - - "_Sept. 14._--Yesterday morning, as there was again no work - whatever to be done, I went off by myself to Charterhouse Hinton to - see the Abbey. I was told it was not shown, but insisted upon going - up to the house, where I rang the bell, and was allowed to look at - the ruin in the garden. There I found an old gentleman, to whom I - told who I was, where I was, and all about myself, and he told me - in return that he had been at school with Uncle Jule and knew the - Bath aunts, and not only showed me the best place to sketch the - Abbey from, but gave me a lesson in perspective. Then he took me - into the house and told me all the stories of the pictures there. - - "Mr. Landor has been here, and, thinking to do me honour, called - upon the R.'s. Whilst Pomero danced about, he told numbers of - stories, beginning at once about the Dukes of Brandenburg and - Orleans, and in defence of the Danes. 'Hare may say what he likes, - but that King of Prussia is a regular old scoundrel.' - - "Whenever we are _supposed_ to do any work, Mr. R. sits at the - small table in the dining-room while we are at the large one; but - no one takes any notice of him, and all talk slang and laugh as if - he was out of the room; and if Harris gets bored with his supposed - work, he rings for a plate and glass of water and paints." - - - "_Sept. 22._--You need not grudge my long walks and being away from - the others, for I should not be with them if at home, as Hebden - goes to play on the Abbey organ, and the rest have their own - occupations. To-day I went over hill and dale to Wellow, where - there is a noble old church, and a Holy Well of St. Julian, at - which a white lady used to appear on St. Julian's Eve, whenever any - misfortune was about to happen to the family of Hungerford, the - former possessors of the soil. As I was drawing the village, a - farmer came riding by, and, after looking at my sketch, went back - with me to show me his house, once a manor of the Hungerfords, with - a splendid old carved chimney-piece. - - "These are very long dreary half-years. At Harrow I used to rejoice - that I should never more have to endure those horrible long - private-school half-years, yet here they are again. Oh! what would - I not give to be back with you, and able to take care of you when - you are poorly!" - - - "_Oct. 9._--Yesterday, as there were no lessons whatever again, I - made a great expedition to Farley Castle, but was very miserable - all the way in thinking that I had not been better to you all the - summer, dearest, dearest Mamma. I used to think, when I knew that I - should be at home such a long time, what a comfort I should be to - you, and that you would see how good I was grown; but instead of - that, how bad I was all the time! Oh! if I had only a little of it - over again! Well, it is a long walk, but at last I arrived at - Farley, a pretty ruin on a height, with four towers at the angles - and a chapel in the centre. I persuaded the woman to lock me in - here, and was in ecstasies. The walls are covered with armour of - the Hungerfords for centuries, and in a corner are Cromwell's boots - and saddle. At the other end is the ancient high altar with a Bible - of ages mouldering away beneath a carved crucifix and stained - window, and the surrounding walls are emblazoned with Hungerford - arms. Old banners wave from the ceiling, old furniture lines the - aisle, and in St. Anne's Chantry are two splendid altar-tombs, of - Lady Joanna Hungerford and her husband, and Sir Edward and his - wife. - - "How am I to get any money to pay for having my hair cut, and for - some gloves, for mine are quite worn out?" - - - "_Oct. 20._--No work at all, so I have had a grand expedition to - the beautiful old deserted house of the Longs at South Wraxhall, - and have been writing ballads and stories about it ever since." - - - "_Oct. 26._--No lessons. Mr. R. will not have them. So we have all - been together to Farley, and went into the vault where the - Hungerfords lie in leaden coffins, melted to fit their bodies and - faces, their real features in deep relief. They look most - extraordinary, especially two babies, whom, at first sight, you - would take for a pair of shoes.... When I am alone with Harris, I - like him very much. He writes poetry and draws beautifully, and can - read French and Italian for his own amusement. I wish I could. Oh, - I am so tired of having nothing to do!" - -My dear Grandmother, Mrs. Leycester, had been failing all the autumn, -and my mother was much with her at her house in New Street. Towards the -end of October she seemed better, and my mother returned to Lime, but on -the 3rd of November she was suddenly recalled. As so often happens in -serious cases, for the only time in her life she missed the train, and -when she arrived, after many hours' delay, she found that dear Grannie -had died an hour before, wishing and longing for her to the last. To my -intense thankfulness, I was allowed to go to my mother in New Street, -once more to behold the beloved aged features in the deep repose of -death, and to see the familiar inanimate objects connected with my -childhood, and the dear old servants. Grannie was buried in the vaults -of St. Martin's Church, Trafalgar Square, her coffin being laid upon -that of Uncle Hugh (Judge Leycester). The vaults were a very awful -place--coffins piled upon one another up to the ceiling, and often in a -very bad state of preservation,[52]--and the funeral was a very ghastly -one, all the ladies being enveloped in huge black hooded mantles, which -covered them from head to foot like pillars of crape. Grannie is one of -the few persons whose memory is always evergreen to me, and for whom I -have a most lasting affection. Everything connected with her has an -interest. Many pieces of furniture and other memorials of my -grandmother's house in New Street and, before that, of Stoke Rectory, -have been cherished by us at Hurstmonceaux and Holmhurst, and others it -has always been a pleasure to see again when I have visited my Penrhyn -cousins at Sheen--objects of still life which long survive those to whom -they were once important. - -In the winter of 1848-49 I saw at St. Leonards the venerable Queen Marie -Amélie, and am always glad to have seen that noble and long-suffering -lady, the niece of Marie Antoinette. - -During the autumn at Lyncombe I was almost constantly ill, and very -often ill in the winter at home, which the Marcus Hares all spent at -Lime. It was a miserable trial to me that, in her anxiety lest I should -miss an hour of a school where I was taught nothing, my mother sent me -back a week too early--and I was for that time alone in the prison of my -abomination, in unutterable dreariness, with nothing in the world to do. -This term, a most disagreeable vulgar boy called W---- was added to the -establishment at Lyncombe, who was my detested companion for the next -two years; and from this time in every way life at Lyncombe became -indescribably wretched--chiefly from the utter waste of time--and, as I -constantly wrote to my mother, I was always wishing that I were dead. My -only consolation, and that a most dismal and solitary one, was in the -long excursions which I made; but I look back upon these as times of -acute suffering from poverty and _hunger_, as I never had any allowance, -and was always sent back to my tutor's with only five shillings in my -pocket. Thus, though I walked sometimes twenty-four miles in a day, and -was out for eight or ten hours, I never had a penny with which to buy -even a bit of bread, and many a time sank down by the wayside from the -faintness of sheer starvation, often most gratefully accepting some of -their food from the common working people I met. If I went out with my -companions, the utmost mortification was added to the actual suffering -of hunger, because, when they went into the village inns to have a good -well-earned luncheon, I was always left starving outside, as I never had -the means of paying for any food. I believe my companions were very -sorry for me, but they never allowed their pity to be any expense to -them, and then "E meglio essere odiato che compatito" is an Italian -proverb which means a great deal, especially to a boy. After a time, -too, the food at Lyncombe itself became extremely stinted and of the -very worst quality--a suet dumpling filled with coarse odds and ends of -meat being our dinner on at least five days out of the seven, which of -course was very bad for an extremely delicate rapidly-growing -youth--and, if I was ill from want of food, which was frequently the -case, I was given nothing but rice. - -What indescribably miserable years those were! I still feel, in passing -Bath by railway, sick at heart from the recollection, and I long in this -volume to hurry over a portion of life so filled with wretched -recollections, and which had scarcely a redeeming feature, except Mr. -Landor's constant kindness and friendship. It was also a terrible -disappointment that my mother never would consent to my going for a few -days to see "Italima" and my brothers, who were then living at Torquay, -and who vainly begged for it. My endless letters to my mother (for I -wrote several sheets daily) are so crushed and disconsolate that I find -little to select. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Easter Sunday, 1849._--Yesterday Mr. Landor asked me to dine with - him. First we went out to order the dinner, accompanied by Pomero - in high spirits. As we went through the streets, he held forth upon - their beauties, especially those of the Circus, to which he - declares that nothing in Rome or in the world was ever equal. We - stopped first at the fishmonger's, where, after much bargaining, - some turbot was procured; then, at the vegetable shop, we bought - broccoli, potatoes, and oranges; then some veal to roast; and - finally a currant-tart and biscuits. Mr. Landor generally orders - his own little dinners, but almost all this was for me, as he will - dine himself on a little fish. He has actually got a new hat, he - says because all the ladies declared they would never walk with him - again unless he had one, and he has a hideous pair of new brown - trousers. Pomero was put out of the room for jumping on them, but - when he was heard crying outside the door, Mr. Landor declared he - could not let his dear child be unhappy, and was obliged to let it - in; upon which the creature was so delighted, that it instantly - jumped on the top of its master's head, where it sate demurely, - looking out of the window. - - "Harris has just written an account of my home life which he says - he believes to be exact, _i.e._, that I live with two maiden aunts, - 'Gidman and Lear'--that they have a dog called 'Paul against the - Gentiles,' who runs after them, carrying muffins and apples to the - poor and destitute inhabitants of the parish of - Chalk-cum-Chilblains--that his kennel is inscribed with texts of - Scripture, and when a heretic is near he can smell him five miles - off--that his food consists of tracts, and that he drinks a - dilution of hymn-books and camphor-ice." - -In my summer holidays of 1849 my mother took me for the second time to -Alton. It was very hot weather, and we lived entirely amongst the -affectionate primitive cottagers, going afterwards to stay with Lady -Gore at Wilcot House--an old haunted house, with a tower where a tailor -(I forget how he got there) committed suicide. With Mrs. Pile we drove -through the open Wiltshire country to her farmhouse home of Tufton, -where we spent several days very pleasantly, in a quiet place on the -glistening little river Teste, close to Hurstborne Park. On the day of -our leaving Tufton we visited Winchester, and as we were going thence to -Portsmouth by rail, we had an adventure which might have ended -seriously. - -The train was already in motion, and my mother and I were alone in the -carriage, when three men came running along the platform and attempted -to enter it. Only one succeeded, for before the others could follow him, -the train had left the platform. In a minute we saw that the man who was -alone in the carriage with us was a maniac, and that those left behind -were his keepers. He uttered a shrill hoot and glared at us. -Fortunately, as the door banged to, the tassel of the window was thrown -up, and this attracted him, and he yelled with laughter. We sat -motionless at the other side of the carriage opposite each other. He -seized the tassel and kept throwing it up and down, hooting and roaring -with laughter. Once or twice we fancied he was about to pounce upon us, -but then the tassel attracted him again. After about eight minutes the -train stopped. His keepers had succeeded in getting upon the guard's box -as the train left the station, and hearing his shouts, stopped the -train, and he was removed by force. - -We went to stay at Haslar with Sir Edward Parry, the Arctic voyager, -whose first wife had been my mother's early friend Bella Stanley. He was -now married again, and had three more children, and his wife had two -daughters by her first husband, Mr. Hoare. The three families lived -together, and in the most wonderful harmony. The eldest son, Edward, -afterwards Bishop of Dover, was several years older than I, yet not too -old for companionship. But I never could feel the slightest interest in -the dockyards or the ships at Spithead. My only pleasure was a happy -_tourette_ round the Isle of Wight--the mother, Lea, and I, in a little -carriage. During the latter part of our stay at Haslar, cholera broke -out in the hospital, and our departure was like a flight. - -While I was at Lyncombe in the autumn, my step-grandmother Mrs. Hare -Naylor died, very soon after the marriage of her daughter Georgiana to -Mr. Frederick D. Maurice, whose first wife had been her intimate friend. -She was married during what was supposed to be her last illness, but was -so pleased with her nuptials that she recovered after the ceremony and -lived for nearly half a century afterwards. - -My dear old uncle Edward Stanley had always said, while making his -summer tour in Scotland, that he should return to Norwich when the first -case of cholera appeared. He died at Brahan Castle, and his body was -brought back to Norwich just as the cholera appeared there. Tens of -thousands of people went to his funeral--for, in the wild Chartist times -of his episcopate, he had been a true "chevalier sans peur et sans -reproche," and had become beloved by people of every phase of creed and -character. My mother met Aunt Kitty in London as she came from Scotland, -and went with her to Norwich. It was perfect anguish to me not to see -once more the place which I had most delighted in, but that was not -permitted. Only two days after leaving her home in the old palace, my -aunt heard of the death of her youngest son, Captain Charles Edward -Stanley, at Hobart Town in Van Diemen's Land. He left a young widow, -who, in her desolation, derived her chief comfort from the thought of -joining her husband's eldest brother, Captain Owen Stanley, at Sydney, -and returning to England in his ship, the _Rattlesnake_. When she -reached the ship, she learned that he had been found dead in his cabin -only a few days after receiving the tidings of his father's death. The -news of this third loss reached Lime just after Aunt Kitty and Kate -Stanley had left it to take possession of their new London home--6 -Grosvenor Crescent. I remember my mother's piercing shriek when she -opened the letter: it was the only time I ever heard her scream. It was -only a few months after this that Kate was married to Dr. Vaughan, her -brother's friend and my late head-master. - -In 1850 I detested my life at Lyncombe more than ever. Mr. R. was -increasingly neglectful in teaching, and the food and everything else -was increasingly bad. Temple Harris and my other elder companions went -away, and their places were taken by a boy "with flaxen hair and -spectacles, like a young curate," but inoffensive, and "an atrociously -vulgar little snob;" while the ill-tempered rathunter, who had been at -Lyncombe with the old set, was the only one of them that remained. I was -now, however, more anxious than ever to learn something, and I made much -progress by myself. Most of the external consolations of this year came -from the residence in Bath of my maternal cousin Mrs. Russell -Barrington, a rather gay young widow, and an eccentric person, but very -kind to me at this time, incessant in her invitations, and really very -useful in her constant lectures upon "good manners." She might truly -have written to my mother in the words of Mme. de Sévigné--"Je me mêle -d'apprendre à votre fils les manèges des conversations ordinaires, qu'il -est important de savoir; il y a des choses qu'il ne faut pas ignorer. Il -seroit ridicule de paraître étonné de certaines nouvelles de quoi on -raisonne; je suis assez instruite de ces bagatelles." - -Up to this time, as ever afterwards, no preparation for social life had -ever been thought of as far as I was concerned. I was never encouraged -to talk at home; indeed, if I ever spoke, I was instantly suppressed. I -knew nothing of any game; I was never taught to ride or swim, and -dancing was absolutely prohibited as an invention of the evil one. Other -boys must have thought me a terrible ass, but it was really not quite my -own fault. Oh! how heartily I agree with Archbishop Whately, who said -that "the God of the Calvinists is the devil with 'God' written on his -forehead." - -There was another of my real relations with whom I made acquaintance -this year, and with whom I was afterwards very intimate--namely, Henry -Liddell, Rector of Easington, and one of the trustees of Bamborough -Castle, who was the brother of my great-uncle Lord Ravensworth, and had -married Charlotte Lyon of Hetton, daughter of the youngest brother of my -great-grandmother Lady Anne Simpson. Mr. Liddell was one of the kindest -of men, with all the genial courtesy of a race of country gentlemen now -almost extinct, and his wife was a beautiful old lady, with much that -was interesting to tell of past times and people. Their eldest son, who -was afterwards Dean of Christ Church at Oxford, was at this time -head-master of Westminster, and was a clever and cultivated person, -though inferior to his parents in natural charm of character. In the -summer my maternal grandfather, Sir John Paul, came to stay at a hotel -at Bath and I saw him frequently, but never found anything in common -with him, though he was an exceedingly clever artist. In my daily -letters to my mother, I see that I described his first reception of me -with "How do you do, sir"--just like any distant acquaintance. He was at -this time married to his third wife, who was a daughter of Bishop -Halifax, and presented a very youthful appearance. Her step-children, -who never liked her, declared that on the day after her marriage one of -her eyebrows fell off into her soup. But to me she was always very kind, -and I was fond of her, in spite of her many ancient frivolities. With -Lady Paul lived her sister Caroline Halifax, a very pretty pleasant old -lady, who adored her, and thought "my sister Bessy" the most beautiful, -illustrious, and cultivated woman in the world. - -It was in April 1850 that a happy missing of his train at Bath produced -a visit at Lyncombe from Arthur Stanley, who was horrified at my -ignorance, and at the absence, which he discovered, of all pains in -teaching me. His representations to my mother at last induced her to -promise to remove me, for which I shall be eternally grateful to him in -recollection. Nevertheless I was unaccountably left at Lyncombe till -Christmas, nine wretched and utterly useless months; for when he knew I -was going to leave, after my return in the summer, Mr. R. dropped even -the pretence of attempting to teach me, so that I often remained in -total neglect, without any work whatever, for several weeks. In their -anger at the distant prospect of my escaping them, the R.'s now never -spoke to me, and my life was passed in _total_ and miserable silence, -even at meal-times. If it had not been for the neighbourhood of Bath, I -should often have been many weeks together without speaking a single -word. My mother in vain remonstrated over my sickeningly doleful -letters, and told me to "catch all the sunbeams within reach;" I could -only reply there were no sunbeams to catch--that "you would think at -meals that you were in the Inquisition from the cold, morose, joyless, -motionless faces around the table." Then Aunt Esther would make my -mother urge me to accept all these small trials, these "guidings," in a -more Christian spirit, which made me furious: I could not express -religious sentiments when such sentiments were quite unborn. Besides, I -might have answered that "when St. Paul said we were to put off the old -man, he did not mean we were to put on the old woman."[53] I also wrote -to my mother-- - - - "We are in the last extremities as regards food. I will give you a - perfectly correct account of the last few days. Saturday, dinner, - boiled beef. Sunday, breakfast, ditto cold with bread and butter. - Luncheon, a very small portion of ditto with dry bread and part of - the rind of a decayed cheese. Dinner, a little of ditto with a - doughy plum-tart. Monday, breakfast, ditto with two very small - square pieces of bread. Luncheon, ditto with bread and ... butter! - Dinner, ditto and a rice-pudding. Tuesday, breakfast, ditto; - luncheon, a very small fragment of ditto and one potato apiece - doled round. Dinner, ditto. Wednesday, breakfast, scraps of ditto; - luncheon, fat and parings of ditto. We all have to sit and do our - work now by the light of a single bed-candle. Oh! I am more - thankful every day that you will at last let me leave this place. - Any change must be for the better, and I should not mind if it was - to the centre of the desert, if I could only feel I should learn - something, for I am learning _nothing_ here, and never have learnt - anything.... Would you very much mind giving me an umbrella, for I - have got wet through almost every day: on Sundays it is especially - inconvenient. Mr. R. asked me the other day how I liked the - thoughts of going away!--but I was very good, and only said 'I - should not _mind_ it very much!'" - -My only reprieve from the misery of Lyncombe in 1850 was in a three -days' visit to my half-uncle Gustavus Hare at Exmouth. I describe to my -mother the extraordinary sermon which I heard there from the Dean of -Exeter, on the theory that the object of St. Paul's visit to Jerusalem, -as described in the Acts of the Apostles, was to attend the deathbed of -the "most blessed Virgin." I was greatly delighted with sketching the -then ruined sanctuary of St. John in the Wilderness--an old grey tower -covered with moss and lichen and a huge yew-tree, in a solitary opening -amid woods. Another day we saw Bradley Manor, near Newton, "with its -chapel used as a hen-roost and a peacock perched upon the altar," and -the second Mrs. Hare Naylor's grave at Highweek, "overlooking the -beautiful wooded hills and the still blue waters of Teignmouth harbour." - -Whilst at my tutor's, I had saved up every penny I could--actually by -pennies--to go to Berkeley Castle, and at last, by going without food -the whole day (as I had no money for _that_), I accomplished the -excursion. To me, it was well worth all the suffering it cost, and I -wrote seven sheets to my mother about the great hall with its stained -windows, the terraces with peacocks sunning themselves on the carved -balustrades, the dark picture-hung staircase, the tapestried bedrooms, -and above all, the unspeakably ghastly chamber of Edward the Second's -murder, approached through the leads of the roof by a wooden bridge -between the towers--"dim and dark, with a floor of unplaned oak, and the -light falling from two stained windows upon a white head of Edward in a -niche, and an old bed with a sword lying upon it in the position in -which it was found after the murder." Then in the park were "the -descendants of the stags which were harnessed to the king's bier, and -which, for want of horses, drew him to his grave at Gloucester." - -In the dreary solitude of my life at Lyncombe (as how often since!) -drawing was a great resource, and much practice gave me facility in -sketching. At this time I was very conceited about it, thought my -drawings beautiful, and, as an inevitable consequence, fell violently -into "the black stage," in which they were--abominable! In the -holidays, however, my pride was well taken down by my mother, who -herself drew with great taste and delicacy. She would look at my drawing -carefully, and then say, "And what does this line mean?"--"Oh, I thought -... it looked well."--"Then, if you do not know exactly what it means, -take it out at once." This was the best of all possible lessons. - -The chief variety of our summer was spending two days in the little inn -at Penshurst--seeing and drawing the fine old house there and Hever -Castle, and a day at Winchelsea, where we slept at the primitive little -public-house, and sketched from breakfast to sunset. - -[Illustration: THE RYE GATE, WINCHELSEA.] - -In the autumn, at Mr. Landor's house, I first met Miss Carolina -Courtenay Boyle,[54] Queen Adelaide's ex-maid of honour, with whom, -partly through my love of drawing, I made a great friendship. Accustomed -as I was to the inferior twaddle which formed the conversation of the -Maurice sisters, or the harsh judgments of those who considered -everything pleasant to be sinful, Miss Boyle was a revelation to me. I -was as one mesmerised by her. Hitherto my acquaintance with women had -been chiefly with the kind who thought ample compensation for having -treated me with inordinate unkindness and selfishness to be contained in -the information that they would not fail to remember me in their -prayers. It was a new experience, not only that a beautiful and clever -lady should try to make herself agreeable, but that she should think it -worth while to make herself agreeable _to me_. No wonder I adored her. -She was then living with her mother Lady Boyle in the same house of -Millard's Hill, near Frome, in which my great-aunts Caroline and -Marianne Hare had lived before; and, to my great surprise and delight, I -was allowed to go by the coach to spend two days with her there. It was -on this occasion that I first wore a morning-coat instead of a jacket, -and very proud I was of it. Apropos of dress, at this time and for many -years afterwards, all young gentlemen wore straps to their trousers, not -only when riding, but always: it was considered the _ne plus ultra_ of -snobbism to appear without them. The said trousers also always had -stripes at the sides, which, beginning like those of soldiers, grew -broader and broader, till they recalled the parti-coloured hose of -Pinturicchio: then they disappeared altogether. - -The house of Millard's Hill, when the Boyles inhabited it, was quite -enchanting, so filled with pictures, carvings, and china; and Miss Boyle -herself was a more beautiful picture than any of those upon her -walls--still wonderfully striking in appearance, with delicately -chiselled features and an unrivalled complexion, while her golden-grey -hair, brushed back and cut short like a boy's (owing to a _coup de -soleil_ long before), added a marvellous picturesqueness. A greater -contrast to the pinched and precise evangelical women whom alone I was -usually permitted to visit could at this time scarcely be imagined. -Wonderful were the stories which she had to tell me, and delighted to -tell me, of her past life and sufferings, "through which only God and -religion" had helped her, with the moral attached that since the few -whom she had idolised were taken away, she must now live for all. She -talked much also of her great anxiety about dear old Landor, "that God -would change and _rebuild_ his soul." Lady Boyle, a sweet and beautiful -old lady,[55] was now quite paralysed, and her daughter would sit for -hours at her feet, soothing her and holding her hands. I remember as -especially touching, that when Miss Boyle sang hymns to her mother, she -would purposely make a mistake, in order that her sick mother might have -"the pleasure of correcting her." - -When we went out, Miss Boyle's dress--a large Marie Antoinette hat and -feathers and a scarlet cloak--at that time considered most -extraordinary--excited great sensation. With her I went to Longleat; to -Vallis, of which I have often been reminded in seeing Poussin's -pictures; and to Marston, where old Lord Cork was still living, with his -daughter-in-law Lady Dungarvan and her children. An immense number of -the Boyles--"the illustrious family" by whom, our Dr. Johnson said, -"almost every art had been encouraged or improved"--were at this time -residing at or around Marston, and none of them on terms with one -another, though they were all, individually, very kind to me. I now -first made acquaintance with Miss Boyle's younger sister Mary, whom I -knew better many years after, when I learned to value her wonderful -sympathy with all the pathos of life, as much as to admire her quick wit -and inimitable acting.[56] Landor used to say of her, "Mary Boyle is -more than clever, she is profound;" but it is her quickness that remains -by one. Of her lively answers it is difficult to give specimens, but I -remember how one day when she neglected something, Lady Marion Alford -said to her, "What a baby you are, Mary," and she answered, "Well, I -can't help it; _I was born so_." - -Another day Sir Frederic Leighton had promised to go to her, and, after -keeping her waiting a long time, had disappointed her. She met him at -the Academy party that evening, and he made a feint of kneeling down to -beg her pardon--"Oh, pray rise up," she exclaimed; "people might think I -was forgiving you." - -But to return to Millard's Hill. In the evenings Miss Boyle took a -guitar and played and sang--strange wild Spanish songs, which seemed -perfectly in accordance with her floating hair and inspired mien. King -William IV. desired her to play to him, which she dreaded so much, that -when she was sent to fetch her guitar, she cut every string and then -frizzled them up, and came back into the royal presence saying that her -guitar was quite broken and she could not play. To her terror, the King -sent for the guitar to see if it was true, but he was deceived. Queen -Adelaide's death had made a great change in Miss Boyle's life, but she -received the greatest kindness from the Queen's sister, Duchess Ida of -Saxe-Weimar. When I was with her, she was looking forward to a homeless -life after her mother's death, which could not be far distant, but was -trusting in the family motto--"God's providence is my inheritance." - -Soon after my return from Millard's Hill, I went to my grandfather Sir -John Paul at the Hill House near Stroud--a much-dreaded visit, as I had -never before seen most of the near relations amongst whom I so suddenly -found myself. - -From the Hill House I wrote to my mother-- - - "_Dec. 19, 1850._--Lyncombe is done with! my own Mother, and oh! I - cannot say how delightful it was, in parting with so many persons - terribly familiar through two years and a half of misery, to know - that I should never see them again. - - "At Stroud Lady Paul's pony-carriage was waiting, and we drove - swiftly through some deep valleys, the old coachman, twenty-five - years in the family, telling me how he had seen and nursed me when - a baby, and how glad he was that I was come to see my grandfather. - We turned up by a house which he said was my 'Aunt Jane's,'[57] - through a steep lane overhung by magnificent beech-trees, and then - round a drive to this hill-set mansion, which has a fine view over - wood and valley on one side, and on the other a garden with - conservatories and fountains. - - "As the bell rang, a good-natured, foreign-looking man came out to - welcome me, and told me he was my Uncle Wentworth,[58] introduced - me to his boy Johnnie, and took me into a large cheerful room - (like the chintz room at Eridge), where the bright-eyed old Sir - John was sitting with Lady Paul and my aunt Minnie Bankhead. Lady - Paul kissed me, and it was not half so formidable as I expected.... - Aunt Minnie is very handsome, and amuses everybody with her - stories. She has just brought back His Excellency her husband from - Mexico, where she has had the most wonderful adventures." - - - - -V - -SOUTHGATE - - "Stern lawgiver, yet thou dost wear - The Godhead's most benignant grace; - Nor know we anything so fair - As is the smile upon thy face." - - --WORDSWORTH, _Ode to Duty_. - - "Duties bring blessings with them." - - --SOUTHEY, _Roderick_. - - "In the acquisition of more or less useless knowledge, soon happily - to be forgotten, boyhood passes away. The schoolhouse fades from - view, and we turn into the world's high-road."--J. K. JEROME. - - -My new tutor, the Rev. Charles Bradley, was selected by Arthur Stanley, -who had been acquainted with his brother, afterwards Master of -University College at Oxford. I went over from Lime to see him at -Hastings, and at once felt certain that, though he was very eccentric, -his energy and vivacity were just what would be most helpful to me. His -house was an ugly brick villa standing a little way back from the road -in the pretty village of Southgate, about ten miles from London, and he -had so many pupils that going there was like returning to school. The -life at Southgate for the next two years was certainly the reverse of -luxurious, and I did not get on well with my tutor owing to his -extraordinary peculiarities, and probably to my many faults also; but I -feel that mentally I owe everything to Mr. Bradley. "Vita sine proposito -languida et vaga est"[59] was the first principle he inculcated. He was -the only person who ever taught me anything, and that he did not teach -me more than he did was entirely my own fault. He had a natural -enthusiasm for knowledge himself, and imparted it to his pupils; and the -energy and interest of the lessons at Southgate were perfectly -delightful--every hour filled, not a moment wasted, and a constant -excitement about examinations going on. I am sure that the manly vigour -of my surroundings soon began to tell on my character as much as my -mind, and at Southgate I soon learned to acquire more openness in -matters of feeling, and a complete indifference to foolish sneers. Mr. -R. for two years and a half had totally, systematically, and most -cruelly neglected me: Mr. Bradley fully did his duty by me--to a degree -of which I have only in after years learned the full value. - -When we had a holiday at Southgate, it was the well-earned reward of -hard work on the part of the pupils, not the result of idleness on the -part of the tutor, and our holidays were intensely enjoyable. As he -found he could trust me, Mr. Bradley let me make long excursions on -these holidays--to Hatfield, St. Albans, Epping Forest, and often to -London, where my happy hunts after old buildings and historic -recollections laid the foundation of a work which I at that time little -looked forward to.[60] Sometimes also I went to the Stanleys', ever -becoming increasingly attracted by the charm, intelligence, and wisdom -of my "Aunt Kitty." She was very alarming with her - - "Strong sovereign will, and some desire to chide."[61] - -But the acuteness of her observation, the crispness of her conversation, -and the minute and inflexible justice of her daily conduct, ever showed -the most rare union of masculine vigour with feminine delicacy. - -My aunt was very intimate with the Miss Berrys, who both died in 1852, -Agnes in January, Mary in November. Their celebrity began with their -great intimacy at Devonshire House and Lansdowne House: the old Duchess -of Devonshire was their great friend. I believe they were not clever in -themselves, but they had a peculiar power of drawing clever people -around them. They had both been engaged, Mary to the O'Hara, Agnes to -the Mr. Ferguson who married Lady Elgin. They were very kind-hearted, -and were, as it were, privileged to say rude things, which nobody -minded, at their parties. Often, when a fresh person arrived towards the -end of the evening, Miss Berry would say before all the other guests, -"You see I've been able to get no one to meet you--no one at all." She -would go out of the room whilst she was pouring out the tea, and call -out over the stairs, "Murrell, no more _women_, no more _women_;" and -Murrell, the butler, understood perfectly, and put out the lamp over the -door. A few very intimate friends would still come in, but, when they -saw the lamp was out, ladies generally drove away. Latterly, the Miss -Berrys tried to draw in a good deal. A sort of _jeu d'esprit_ went round -to their friends, thanking them for past favours, and asking for a -continuance on a smaller scale. It was never quite understood, but was -supposed to mean that they did not wish to see quite so many. The death -of Miss Agnes was like that of the wife. She had always been touching in -that she could never understand how any one could like her better than -her sister. She was the housekeeper, and she did what other housekeepers -seldom do--she had the soup brought up to her every day whilst she was -dressing, and tasted it, and would say, "There must be a little more -sugar," or "There is too much salt," so that it was always perfect and -always the same. - -I think it must have been at this time also that I was taken to see the -venerable Lady Louisa Stuart, who died soon afterwards.[62] I am glad -that I can thus always retain a vivid recollection of the daughter of -the famous Lord Bute and grand-daughter of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu as -a very old lady of ninety-four, in a large cap, sitting in an -old-fashioned high-backed chair covered with white stuff, in a room of -extreme bareness. - -Great was my excitement, on first going to Southgate. I stayed on the -way with the Stanleys, to see the Exhibition (of 1851) which was then -in full preparation, and the procession at the opening of Parliament. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_6 Grosvenor Crescent, Feb. 3, 1851._--The exterior of the Crystal - Palace is disappointing, I had imagined it so much higher, but the - interior is and looks gigantic. The most striking feature is the - great tree: it is wonderful to see its huge branches enclosed quite - to the topmost twigs, and the details of the building are - beautiful." - - - "_Feb. 4._--I went to the Bunsens' house to see the procession. - There was a crowd of people on the terrace when the great gun - announced that the Queen had left the palace, and already from - distant parts of the avenue cries of 'God save the Queen' and - 'Hurrah!' The procession of Lifeguards in their panoply of - glittering helmets and breastplates was beautiful. Then came the - six gorgeous carriages with the household, and lastly the eight - cream-coloured horses drawing the great glass coach. Prince Albert - in his great boots sat on the side nearest to us, opposite the - Duchess of Sutherland in a diamond tiara; and on the other, the - Queen, in a crown and glistening dress of embroidered silver, kept - bowing to the shouts of her subjects--so much indeed that I heard a - poor Irish-woman exclaim--'Och indeed, and mustn't the poor thing - get tired of nodding her head about so.' ... There were forty - people at luncheon with the Bunsens afterwards." - - - "_Southgate, Feb. 8, 1851._--My own dearest mother, at last I am - writing from my own room at Southgate. I joined the omnibus at a - public-house at the bottom of Snow Hill,[63] and drove here through - the moonlight, arriving at 10 P.M. We stopped at a large gate in a - wall, which was opened by a stable-boy, who led the way across a - grass-plat with trees. Mr. Bradley met me in the hall, and took me - to see Mrs. Bradley, and then to my room, which at first seemed - most dreary, cold, and comfortless." - - - "_Feb. 9._--I have already seen enough of the life here to know a - good deal about it. Mr. Bradley is an excellent tutor, though I - could never like him as a man. He is much too familiar with his - pupils, pulls their hair or hits them on the toes with the poker - when they make mistakes: he will peer into their rooms, and if he - finds a coat, &c., lying about, will fine them a penny, and there - is a similar fine if you do not put the chair you have sat upon at - dinner close up against the wall when you have done with it. The - tradespeople are allowed to put in their bills, 'Pane of glass - broken by Portman or Brooke,' &c. When I asked him to lend me a - pen, he said, 'Oh, I don't provide my pupils with pens.' When he - wanted to send a parcel to Miss Jason, he told her brother he - should come upon him for the postage. The first thing he said to me - after I entered the house was--pointing to the sideboard--'Mind you - never take either of those two candles; those are Mrs. Bradley's - and mine' (we have sickly-smelling farthing dips in dirty japanned - candlesticks). These are instances to give you an idea of the man. - - "If you have three indifferent marks from the mathematical master, - you have either to stay in all the next half-holiday, or to receive - three severe boxes on the ear!--a thing which I imagine would not - be borne at any other private tutor's, but Bradley seems to have - magic power. His inquisitiveness about trifles is boundless. If I - bring down a book--'What is that book? Was it a present? Who from? - Where was it bought? How much did it cost?' - - "When I came down to prayers this morning (at eight, being Sunday), - I found all the pupils assembled. I am the smallest but one, and - look up at the gigantic Portman, who is only thirteen. Then we had - breakfast. Cold beef and ham were on the table, a huge loaf, and - two little glasses of butter. Mrs. Bradley poured out the tea, - while Bradley threw to each pupil an immense hunch off the loaf, - saying with mine, that I 'must not leave any, or any fat at dinner, - that was never allowed; and that I must always say first what I - wanted, much or little, fat or not.' After breakfast the pupils all - gathered round the fire and talked. Soon Bradley made us sit down - to work, myself at Greek Testament, till it was time to go to - church, whither we went, not quite in a schoolboy procession, but - very nearly. The church was 'Weld Chapel,' a barn-like building, - with round windows and high galleries. At dinner there was cold - roast and boiled beef, and plum and custard pudding, good and - plain, but with severe regulations. We did not have any time to - ourselves except three-quarters of an hour after afternoon church, - after which we went down to a sort of Scripture examination, with - such questions as, 'How do we know that Salome was the mother of - Zebedee's children?' I wrote what I thought an excellent set of - answers, but they proved sadly deficient, and I am afraid I _am_ a - dunce.... I am writing now after prayers, in forbidden time, and in - danger of having my fire put out for a month! Do not think from my - letter that I dislike being here. Oh, no! work, work, is the one - thing I need, and which I must and will have, and, if I have it, - all petty troubles will be forgotten. Good-night, my own dear - blessed mother." - - - "_Feb. 10._--Half my first work-day is over, and I have just washed - my hands, sooty with lighting my own fire, to write before dinner. - At half-past nine we all sat down to work at the long table in the - dining-room. I was directed to do Euripides while the 'schemes' - (tables of work) of the others were prepared, and we went on till - half-past twelve, when Bradley said, 'You've done enough.' Then - Campbell asked me to walk with him and Walker to the station.... - All my companions seem very old." - - - "_Feb. 12._--On Wednesday afternoon I went a long walk with - Campbell. The country looks most dreary now, and mostly hidden by - London fog, still I think there are bits which I could draw.... - When we came home I ached with cold and my fire was out. Mrs. - Bradley is certainly most good-natured; for happening to pass and - see my plight, she insisted on going down herself to get sticks, - laying it, and lighting it again. When I was going to bed, too, the - servant came up with a little bason of arrowroot, steaming hot, and - some biscuits, which 'Missis thought would do my cold good.' - - "Bradley improves greatly on acquaintance, and is very kind to me, - though I am sorry to say he finds me far more backward and stupid - than he expected, especially in grammar. He has a wonderfully - pleasant way of teaching, and instead of only telling us we are - dunces and blockheads, like Mr. R., he helps us not to remain so. - - "He was exceedingly indignant yesterday at receiving a letter from - Lord Portman to say that his son had complained of the dreadful - damp of the house, that his shirts put out at night were always wet - before morning. After expatiating for a long time upon the - unkindness and impropriety of Portman's conduct in writing to - complain instead of asking for a fire, he ended good-humouredly by - insisting on his going out into a laurel bush in the garden with - Forbes, to receive advice as to improved conduct for the future! - All this every pupil in the house was called down to witness: - indeed, if any one does wrong, it is Bradley's great delight to - make him a looking-glass to the others. Sometimes he holds up their - actual persons to be looked at. If they are awkward, he makes them - help the others at meals, &c., and all his little penances are made - as public as possible." - - - "_Feb. 14._--The days go quickly by in a succession of lessons, one - after the other. I am much happier already at Southgate than I - ever was anywhere else, for Bradley's whole aim, the whole thought - of his soul, is to teach us, and he makes his lessons as - interesting as Arthur (Stanley) himself would. I like all my - companions very much, but Walker best; and, though I am the - smallest, thinnest, weakest fellow here, I do not think they like - me the worse for it." - - - "_Feb. 16._--Yesterday, after work, I went by train to Hatfield - House, provided with a large piece of cake for luncheon by Mrs. - Bradley.... You may imagine my delight, as I expected something - like Penshurst at best, to see tower after tower, and pile after - pile of the most glorious old building, equally splendid in colour - and outline--far the most beautiful house I ever saw. It was a - perfect day, the sun lighting up the glorious building, and making - deep shadows upon it, and glinting through the old oaks in the park - upon the herds of deer.... The train was forty minutes late, and it - was quite dark when I got back, but Mrs. Bradley's good-nature gave - me a welcome and a hot meat tea, whereas with Mrs. R. there would - indeed have been cold behaviour and cold tea--if _any_. - - "The only way of getting on with Bradley is the most entire - openness, and answering all his questions as shortly and simply as - possible.... After Cicero he always gives us a composition to - translate into Latin out of his own head, most extraordinary - sometimes, though in the style of what we have been reading. I am - already beginning to find Cicero quite easy, and am beginning at - last even to make some little sense of Euripides." - - "_Feb. 21._--At half-past six I hear knocking without intermission - at my door, which it is generally a long time before I am - sufficiently awake to think other than a dream. Presently I jump - up, brush my own clothes, seize my Cicero, and look it over while I - dress, and at half-past seven rush downstairs to the dining-room. - For some minutes the stairs are in a continual clatter. Meantime I - retire into a window in agonies of agitation about my Cicero, till - Bradley comes in rubbing his hands, and sits down in an arm-chair - by the fire: I sit down by him, and Hill on the other side of me, - like a great long giant. I generally do this lesson very ill, - partly from want of presence of mind, partly from inattention, and - partly because I am scarcely awake: however, Bradley makes it not - only instructive but interesting, always giving us funny sentences - out of his own head to construe into the sort of Latin we are - doing. I quite enjoy my lessons with him, only he must think me - _such_ a dunce. After the lesson is construed, I sometimes have to - do it all through by myself, or the others do it and I correct them - (if I can). Sometimes the poker is held over their toes, when, - without exception, they do it worse than before, and down it comes. - Then we parse. - - "Then a little bell tinkles. Portman cuts the bread, Bradley the - ham, and I help to set chairs in two rows from the fire, while the - others hang over it, very grim and cold. Two maidens and a - stable-boy come in, we sit in two rows confronting each other, and - Bradley in the oddest possible tone reads a chapter in 'Proverbs' - and a prayer. Then the chairs are put to the table: I sit next but - Hill to Mrs. Bradley, which means I am fourth eldest, Walker on - the other side of me, Forbes and Campbell opposite. At breakfast - every one talks of plans for the day, Forbes and Portman of hounds, - races, and steeplechases, Campbell of church windows; it is very - different from the silent meals at Lyncombe. - - "We do not begin regular work again till half-past nine, though I - generally prepare mine, but sometimes Forbes persuades me to come - out and give them a chase, that is, to run away as hard as I can, - with all the others yelping like hounds at my heels; but the scene - of these chases is only a square walled garden and orchard, and - there are no places for concealment. We come in very dirty, and - Buchan is sometimes made to wear his dirty shoes round his neck, or - to have them under his nose all worktime. - - "I work in my room till ten, when I come in with Walker for the - second Cicero lesson, which is even pleasanter than the other. - Afterwards we write Latin compositions out of our own heads! Then I - sometimes say Greek grammar, or else work in my own room again till - twelve, when I go down to the young Cambridge wrangler, who is - teaching some one all worktime, but with whom I do nothing except - for this half-hour. He looks very young and delicate and is - childish in manner, and generally gets into a fix over a fraction, - and so do I, but we fumble and whisper together over arithmetic - till half-past twelve. Meanwhile my letters have generally come, - books are clapped together, and I run upstairs to write to you. - - "A dinner-bell rings at half-past one, and the others come in from - the drawing-room, whither they adjourn before dinner, with the - penalty of a penny if they lean against the mantelpiece, as they - might injure the ornaments. We have the same places at dinner, an - excellent dinner always--variety of food and abundance of it. - Afterwards I generally read, while the others play at quoits, and - at half-past two I go out walking with Campbell, coming in to begin - work at five. At half-past five Walker and I come in with - Euripides, which is the last repetition: then I work in my own room - till six, when we have tea, with bread and butter and cake. After - tea the drawing-room is open to the public till half-past seven, - when we all begin to prepare work for the next day, and write Latin - exercises till nine, when prayers are read. Afterwards the younger - ones generally go to bed, but some of us sit up talking or playing - chess, &c., till nearly eleven. - - "I like the sort of life excessively--the hardly having a moment to - one's self, as the general working 'subject' takes up all leisure - time--the hardly having time even to make acquaintance with one's - companions from the succession of all that has to be done. No one - thinks it odd if you do any amount of work in your own room; of - course they laugh at you as 'a bookworm,' but what does that - signify? - - "I have forgotten to tell you that between breakfast and the chase, - Hill and I are examined in three chapters of the Bible which we - prepare beforehand. Bradley asks the most capital questions, which - one would never think of, and we have to know the geography - perfectly. I am astonished to find how indescribably ignorant I - am." - - "_Feb. 23._--I daily feel how much happier I am with the Bradleys - than I have ever been before. Compared to Lyncombe, Southgate is - absolute paradise, the meals are so merry and the little - congregations round the fire afterwards, and work is carried on - with such zest and made so interesting. - - "Yesterday, after work, I went to Waltham Abbey--a long walk to - Edmonton, and then by rail to Waltham. I was very anxious to see - what a place so long thought of would be like--a tall white tower - rising above trees, a long rambling village street, and then the - moss-grown walls of the church. The inside is glorious, with - twisted Norman pillars, &c., but choked with pews and galleries. - The old man who showed it said he was 'quite tired of hearing of - church reform and restoration, though the pillars certainly did - want whitewashing again sadly.' ... There is an old gothic gateway - on the brink of the river Lea." - - - "_March 9, Harrow._--Having got through 'the subject'--Cicero and - Greek grammar--yesterday morning, with much trembling but - favourable results, I set off to come here. With a bundle like a - tramp, I passed through Colney Hatch, Finchley, and Hendon, keeping - Harrow steeple and hill well in view, and two miles from Harrow met - Kate in her carriage. This morning we have been to church, and I - have since been to Mrs. Brush, the Pauls' old servant, whom I knew - so well when at school here, and who came out exclaiming, 'O my - dear good little soul, how glad I be to see ye!'" - - _"Southgate, March 14._--I must tell my mother of my birthday - yesterday. Mr. and Mrs. Bradley made me order the meals, and do - very much what I liked. The tutor, who can be as savage as a lion - during work, relapses into a sucking-lamb when it is over. My - health was drunk all round at dinner, and 'a truce' given - afterwards, which I employed in going with little Fitzherbert - Brooke to the old church at Chingford, close to Epping Forest--a - picturesque, deserted, ivy-covered building, looking down over the - flat country which I think so infinitely interesting, with the - churches and towers of London in the distance. - - "To-day there has been a great fuss, and it will probably have some - dreadful ending. In the middle of work we were all suddenly called - down, and Bradley, with his gravest face, headed a procession into - the garden, where all across one of the flower-beds were seen - footmarks, evidently left by some one in the chases yesterday. The - gardener was called, and said he saw _one of the party_ run across - yesterday, but he was not allowed to say a word more. Then Bradley - said he should allow a day in which the culprit might come forward - and confess, in which case he would be forgiven and no one told his - name, otherwise the shoes of yesterday, which have been locked up, - would be measured with the footprints, and the offender sent away." - - - "_March 15._--The plan has quite answered. In the evening, Bradley - told me the offender had given himself up. No one knows who it is, - and all goes on as before. Some of the others are given a - tremendous punishment for running through some forbidden laurel - bushes--the whole of 'Southey's Life of Nelson' to get up with the - geography, and not to leave the house till it is done, no second - course, no beer, and ... to take a pill every night." - - "_April 2._--The other day I was very careless in my work, and was - asked where my mind was, and as I could not tell, Campbell was sent - upstairs to fetch--my mind! and came down bearing two little pots - of wild anemones, which were moved about with me as my 'mind,' to - the great amusement of the others.... If I should ever _seem_ to - complain of anything here in my letters, mind you never allude to - it to the Bradleys, as there is only one thing which Bradley - _never_ forgives a pupil, and that is having caused him to write a - letter." - - - "_April 7._--Yesterday I went with Campbell and Edgecombe to - Hatfield, whence we ran all the way to St. Albans, an effort, but - quite worth while, though we had only an hour there." - - - "(After the Easter vacation), _April 27._--When I opened my eyes - this morning on the wintry wilderness here, what a change it was - from Lime--withered sooty evergreens, leafless trees, trampled - grass, and thick London fog--I think the angels driven out of - Paradise must have felt as I do, only I have a bad headache - besides.... All here is the same as when we left, to the drawling - sermon of Mr. Staunton about faith, grace, and redemption, sighing - and groaning and hugging the pulpit-cushion the while. It is - bitterly cold, but the law of the house allows no more fires.... - Even Fausty's white hair, which still clings to my coat, has its - value now." - - - "_April 29._--Bradley has now taken a notion that I am dreadfully - self-conceited, so I am made to sit on a high chair before him at - lessons like a little school-boy, and yesterday, for mistakes in my - Latin exercise, I was made to wear my coat and waistcoat inside out - till dinner-time." - - - "_May 11._--Yesterday, I went by train to Broxbourne, and walked - thence by Hoddesdon across the bleak district called the Rye, till - I saw an oasis of poplars and willows by the river Lea, and a red - brick tower with terra-cotta ornaments, twisted chimney, - flag-staff, and a grey arched door below. I had not expected it, so - you may imagine how enchanted I was to find that it was the tower - of the Rye-House. In that road Charles and James were to have been - murdered on their return from Newmarket, and for the plot conceived - in that tower Algernon Sidney and William Lord Russell died! - - "Bradley is now alternately very good-natured and very provoking. - He continually asks me if I do not think him the most annoying, - tiresome man I ever met, and I always say, 'Yes, I do think so.' In - return, he says that I am sapping his vitals and wearing him out by - my ingratitude and exaggerations, but he does not think so at - all." - - - "_May 18._--I have been to Harrow. Mr. Bradley lent me a horse, to - be sent back by the stable-boy after the first six miles, so I - easily got through the rest.... I had many hours with Kate, and - came away immediately after dinner, arriving at exactly ten minutes - to ten--the fatal limit; so Bradley was pleased, and welcomed me, - and I did _not_ go supperless to bed." - - - "_June 8, 1851._--Yesterday I walked to Dyrham Park near Barnet, to - pay a visit to the Trotters. It is a handsome place.... I wrote - upon my card, 'Will you see an unknown cousin?' and sending it in, - was admitted at once. I found Mrs. Trotter[64] in the garden. She - welcomed me very kindly, and seven of her nine children came - trooping up to see 'the unknown cousin.' Captain Trotter is - peculiar and peculiarly religious. I had not been there a minute - before he gathered some leaves to dilate to me upon 'the beauty of - the creation and the wonderful glory of the Creator,' with his - magnifying-glass. He builds churches, gives the fourth of his - income to the poor, and spends all his time in good works. I stayed - to tea with all the children. The gardens are lovely, and the - children have three houses in the shrubberies--one with a - fireplace, cooking apparatus, and oven, where they can bake; - another, a pretty thatched cottage with Robinson Crusoe's tree near - it, with steps cut in it to the top." - - - "_June 11._--The first day of our great examination is over, and I - have written seventy-three answers, some of them occupying a whole - sheet." - - - "_June 12._--To-day has been ten hours and a half of hard writing. - I was not plucked yesterday!" - - - "_June 15._--I reached Harrow by one, through the hot lanes peopled - with haymakers. I was delayed in returning, yet by tearing along - the lanes arrived at ten exactly by my watch, but by the hall-clock - it was half-past ten. Bradley was frigidly cold in consequence, and - has been ever since. To-day at breakfast he said, 'Forbes may - always be depended upon, but that is not the case with _every - one_.'" - - - "_June 20._--I have had an interesting day!--examinations all - morning--the finale of Virgil, and then, as a reward, and because - neither of my preceptors could attend to me, Bradley said I might - go where I liked; so I fixed on Hertford, and, having walked to - Ponder's End, took the train thither.... From Hertford, I walked to - Panshanger, Lord Cowper's, which is shown, and in the most - delightful way, as you are taken to the picture-gallery, supplied - with a catalogue, and left to your own devices. The pictures are - glorious and the gardens are quaint, in the old style. At Ware I - saw the great bed, but the owners would not let me draw it on any - account, because they were sure I was going to do it for the - Pantomime. The bed is twelve feet square and is said to have - belonged to Queen Elizabeth. - - "In the Bible examination I am second, in spite of having said - that Ishmael married an Egyptian, and having left out 'They drank - of that rock which followed them' in answer to the question 'What - were the miracles ordained to supply the temporal wants of the - Israelites in the wilderness?'" - - - "_June 25._--I am enchanted--quite enchanted that we are really - going to Normandy.... I feel satisfied, now the end of the quarter - is come, that I never was happier anywhere in my life than I have - been here, and that I have done more, learned more, and thought - more in the few months at Southgate than in all the rest of my life - put together." - -While I was away, my mother's life at Hurstmonceaux had flowed on in a -quiet routine between Lime and the Rectory. She had, however, been much -affected by the sudden death of Ralph Leycester, the young head of her -family,[65] and cheerful, genial owner of Toft, her old family home. -Chiefly, however, did she feel this from her share in the terrible -sorrow of Ralph's eldest sister, her sister-like cousin Charlotte -Leycester; and the hope of persuading her to have the change and of -benefiting her by it, proved an incentive to make a short tour in -Normandy--a plan with which I was intensely delighted. To go abroad was -positively enchanting. But _anything_ would have been better than -staying at Hurstmonceaux, so overrun was it with Maurices. I suppose -they sometimes meant well, but what appalling bores they were! "La bonne -intention n'est de rien en fait d'esprit."[66] - -We crossed to Boulogne on a sea which was perfectly calm at starting, -but on the way there came on one of the most frightful thunderstorms I -ever remember, and the sea rose immediately as under a hurricane. A lady -who sate by us was dreadfully terrified, and I have no doubt remembers -now the way in which (as the waves swept the deck) my mother repeated to -her the hymn--"Oh, Jesus once rocked on the breast of the billow." I -have often seen in dreams since, our first entrance into a French -harbour, brilliant sunshine after the storm, perfectly still water after -the raging waves, and the fishwomen, in high white caps like towers -(universal then) and huge glittering golden earrings, lining the railing -of the pier. - -We saw Amiens and had a rapid glimpse of Paris, where we were all -chiefly impressed by the Chapelle St. Ferdinand and the tomb of the Duke -of Orleans, about whom there was still much enthusiasm. During this -visit I also saw three phases of old Paris which I am especially glad -to remember, and which I should have had no other opportunity of seeing. -I saw houses still standing in the Place du Carrousel between the -Tuileries and the then unfinished Louvre: I saw the Fontaine des -Innocents in the middle of the market, uncovered as it then was: and I -saw the Tour de S. Jacques rising in the midst of a crowd of old houses, -which pressed close against it, and made it look much more picturesque -than it has done since it has been freed from its surroundings. On -leaving Paris, we spent delightful days at Rouen, and visited, at -Darnetal, the parents of M. Waddington, who became well known as -Minister of Foreign Affairs at Paris, and ambassador in England. From -Havre we went by sea to Caen, arriving full of the study of Norman -history and determined to find out, in her native place, all we could -about Gunnora, Duchess of Normandy (grandmother of William the -Conqueror), from whose second marriage both my mother and Charlotte -Leycester were directly descended. - -Very delightful were the excursions we made from Caen--to Bayeux with -its grand cathedral and the strange strip of royal needlework known as -"the Bayeux Tapestry:" and to the quaint little church of Thaon and -Château Fontaine Henri, a wonderfully preserved great house of other -days. Ever since I have had a strong sense of the charm of the wide -upland Normandy plains of golden corn, alive with ever-changing cloud -shadows, and of the sudden dips into wooded valleys, fresh with streams, -where some little village of thatched cottages has a noble church with a -great spire, and an area wide enough to contain all the people in the -village and all their houses too. The most beautiful of all the breaks -in the cornland occurs at Falaise, where the great castle of Robert the -Devil rises on a precipice above a wooded rift with river and watermills -and tanners' huts, in one of which Arlette, the mother of the Conqueror, -and daughter of the tanner Verpray, was born. - -From Falaise we went to Lisieux, which was then one of the most -beautiful old towns in France, almost entirely of black and white timber -houses. It was only a few miles thence to Val Richer, where we spent the -afternoon with M. Guizot--"grave and austere, but brilliantly -intellectual," as Princess Lieven has described him. His château was -full of relics of Louis Philippe and his court, and the garden set with -stately orange-trees in large tubs like those at the Tuileries. My -mother and cousin returned to England from hence, but I was left for -some weeks at Caen to study French at the house of M. Melun, a -Protestant pasteur, in a quiet side-street close to the great Abbaye aux -Dames, where Matilda of Flanders is buried. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Caen, July 26, 1851._--It was very desolate, my own mother, being - left alone in that square of Lisieux, and the old houses seemed to - lose their beauty, the trees and cathedral to grow colourless, - after you were all gone, so that I was glad when the diligence came - to take me away. It was a long drive, passing through 'Coupe - Gorge,' a ravine where Napoleon, hearing diligences were often - robbed there, made one man settle, saying that others would soon - follow, and now there is quite a village. - - "I have a pleasant room here, with a clean wooden floor, and a view - of S. Pierre from the window. Its only drawback is opening into the - sitting-room where Mr. T., my fellow-pensionnaire, smokes his - pipes. He is a heavy young man, very anxious to impress me with the - honour and glory of his proficiency as a shot and cricketer, and of - the Frenchmen he has knocked down and 'rather surprised.' We had - prayers in Madame Melun's bedroom, she being dressed, but 'le - petit' snoring in bed. The whole family, including _les petits_, - have a great meat breakfast with wine, followed by bowls of sour - milk.... Such a touching funeral procession has just passed up the - Rue des Chanoines, a young girl carried on a bier by six of her - companions in white dresses and wreaths." - - - "_Sunday, July 27_.--Yesterday I went a walk with M. Melun to the - Prairie, where the races are going on. This morning he preached - about them and the evils of the world with the most violent action - I ever saw--stamping, kicking, spreading out his arms like the - wings of a bird, and jumping as if about to descend upon the altar, - which, in the _Temple_, is just under the pulpit. This afternoon I - have been again to the service, but there was no congregation; all - the world was gone to the races, and, M. Melun says, to perdition - also." - - - "_July 28._--It is such a burning day that I can hardly hold my - head up. Everything seems lifeless with heat, and not a breath of - air. I never missed a green tree so much: if you go out, except to - the Prairie, there is not one to be seen, and even the streets are - cool and refreshing compared with the barren country. Tens of - thousands of people collected in the Prairie this morning, half to - see the races, half the eclipse of the sun, for they both began at - the same moment, and the many coloured dresses and high Norman caps - were most picturesque." - - - "_July 30._--It is like the deadly motionless heat of 'The Ancient - Mariner;' I suppose the eclipse brings it ... the baking is - absolute pain.... It is tiresome that the whole Melun family think - it necessary to say 'bon jour' and to shake hands every time one - goes in and out of the house, a ceremony which it makes one hotter - to think of." - - - "_July 31._--The heat is still terrific, but thinking anything - better than the streets, I have been to Thaon--a scorching walk - across the shadeless cornfields. The church and valley were the - same, but seemed to have lost their charm since I last saw them - with my mother. I have my French lesson now in the little - carnation-garden on the other side of the street." - - - "_August 1._--I have been by the diligence to Notre Dame de la - Deliverande, a strange place, full of legends. In the little square - an image of the Virgin is said to have fallen down from heaven: it - was hidden for many years in the earth, and was at length - discovered by the scratching of a lamb. Placed in the church, the - Virgin every night returned to the place where she was disinterred, - and at last the people were obliged to build her a shrine upon the - spot. It is an old Norman chapel surrounded by booths of relics, - and shouts of 'Achetez donc une Sainte Vierge' resound on all - sides. Latterly, to please the fishermen, the worship of the Virgin - has been combined with that of St. Nicholas, and they appear on the - same medal, &c. When a crew is saved from shipwreck on this coast, - it instantly starts in procession, barefoot, to 'La Deliverande,' - and all the lame who visit the chapel are declared to go away - healed.... In a blaze of gold and silver tinsel, surrounded by the - bouquets of the faithful and the crutches of the healed, is the - image which 'fell down from heaven,'--its mouldering form is - arrayed in a silver robe, and, though very old, it looks unlikely - to last long. I went on with M. Melun to Bernières, where there is - a grand old church, to visit a poor Protestant family, the only one - in this ultra-Catholic neighbourhood. They had begged the minister - to come because one of the sisters was dead, and the whole party - collected while he prayed with them, and they wept bitterly. - Afterwards we asked where we could get some food. 'Chez nous, chez - nous,' they exclaimed, and lighting a fire in their little mud room - with some dried hemp, they boiled us some milk, and one of the - sisters, who was a baker, brought in a long hot roll of sour bread, - for which they persistently refused any payment.... I have had an - English invitation from Madame de Lignerole in these words--'Will - you be so very kind as to allow me to take the liberty of - entreating you to have the kindness to confer the favour upon me of - giving me the happiness of your company on Friday.'" - - - "_August 2._--We went to-day to see M. Laire, an old antiquary who - has lived all his life upon vegetables. His house is very - attractive; the court, full of flowers mixed with carvings and - Celtic remnants, borders on the willows which fringe the Odon, and - the rooms are crammed with curiosities and pictures relating to - Caen history. The old man himself is charming, and spends his life - in collecting and giving away. He gave me a medallion of - Malesherbes, and many other things." - - - "_August 2._--I have been to dine with the Consul, Mr. Barrow. - Under his garden is the quarry whence the stone was taken which - built Westminster Abbey. It undermines all the grounds, and once, - when a part fell in, the hot air which came out made it quite hot - in winter. Mr. Barrow has built a conservatory over the spot, which - needs no other heat, and plants flourish amazingly, though only - camellias and smooth-leaved plants will do, as others are too much - affected by the damp." - -Want of money was still always the great trouble of my boyhood, as my -dear mother never could be persuaded to see the necessity of my having -any, and after she had made a minute calculation of the necessary -pennies that came into her head, always gave me just that sum and no -more, never allowing anything for the ever-recurring incidents and -exigencies of daily life. When I was sixteen she was persuaded to allow -me £10 a year, but out of this I was expected to buy all the smaller -articles of dress, boots, hats, gloves, &c., so, as may be imagined, my -annual allowance was almost nil; and my excursions at Southgate had been -only possible by starvation, and because the third-class ticket to -London cost only fourpence. When I was left at Caen, just the absolutely -needful sum for my return journey was given me, and no allowance made -for any personal expenses of my stay--for washer-woman, fees to -servants, or payments for the many purchases which my mother wrote to -desire me to make for her. Thus, when the time came for setting out -homewards, with the nine packages which were to be taken to my mother, I -was in the greatest embarrassment, and many were my adventures; yet my -dread of a sea-voyage still made me refuse altogether to go by Havre and -Southampton, and my longing to see a historical spot which I had long -read and heard of made me determine if possible--if I half died for it -on the way--to visit St. Denis, a place I had always had a special -longing after. The journey entailed a singular chapter of accidents. - -During the whole of the first long day--twelve hours' diligence -journey--I had nothing whatever to eat but a brioche and some plums; but -at seventeen starvation is not one of the worst things in life, and when -I arrived at Evreux, the fair of St. Taurinus, the patron saint of the -place, was going on, and I was in ecstasies the next morning over the -costumes which it brought into the town, as well as over the old -Bishop's Palace and the beautiful cathedral with its lace-work -architecture. - -From Evreux the diligence had to be taken again to Bonnières, where I -joined the railway to Paris, and in the evening reached St. Denis. I -had no money to go to a hotel, but spent the night in a wretched café -which was open for carters under the walls of the cathedral, where I got -some sour bread and eggs, having had no food all day. At five in the -morning the doors of the Abbey were opened, and in my raptures over the -monuments of Dagobert, Francis I., &c., I forgot all my -miseries--especially in the crypt, full then of royal tombs and statues. -At half-past twelve, when I was ready to leave, I found that no more -trains for Boulogne would stop at St. Denis that day, and that I must -return to Paris. I went in the omnibus, but owing to my ignorance of -French, was carried far beyond my point, and had to be dropped, with all -my packages, in a strange street, whence with some difficulty I got a -porter to drag my things to the station, but arrived when the train was -just gone, and no other till half-past seven, and it was then two. -Hungry and forlorn, I made my way, losing it often, on foot, to the -Tuileries gardens, where I felt that the beauty of the flowers repaid me -for the immense walk, though I was disconcerted when I found that -sitting down on a chair cost the two sous I had saved to buy bread with. -In my return walk, ignorance and mistakes brought me to the railway for -Rouen (Gare S. Lazare), instead of that for Boulogne (Gare du Nord). -However, in time I reached the right place. - -As we were half-way to the coast in the express, a strong smell of -burning was borne on the wind, and the carriage soon filled with smoke. -Looking out, we saw a line of screaming faces, and the roof of one of -the front carriages in flames. Pieces of burning stuff rushed flaming -past. A young lady in our carriage--"Gabrielle"--fell on her knees and -said her prayers to the Virgin. Suddenly we stopped, and heard the rush -of water above us. The engine-driver, to save the train, had, with -terrible risk to the passengers, pushed on at a frightful speed to the -_pompe d'incendie_ of Pontoise. - -At half-past one in the morning we reached Boulogne. I was told that the -steamer for Folkestone would not start for an hour. An official in blue -with silver lace said that he would call for me then. At the time, but -rather late, he came. A cab was ready, and we were only just in time to -catch the steamer. The official, as I was going on board, desired that I -would pay my fare. I supposed it was all right, and gave up almost all -my few remaining shillings. I was assured the packet was the one for -Folkestone, and, though surprised at having no ticket, supposed it was -because most of the passengers had through tickets from Paris to London, -and because my going on was an afterthought. - -The steamer started, but, before leaving the harbour, concussed with -another vessel, which broke one of the paddle-boxes and delayed us an -hour. Meantime it began to pour in torrents, the deck swam with water, -and before we got out to sea the wind had risen and the sea was very -rough. The vessel was fearfully crowded with three hundred and fifty -people going to the Hyde Park Exhibition, and more than half of them -were sea-sick. - -At last day broke, and with it the English coast came in sight. But it -was very odd; it was not a coast I knew, and Dover Castle seemed to be -on the wrong side. Then a man came for the tickets, and said I must have -had one if I had paid: as I had not one, I could not have paid. It was -in vain that I protested I had paid already. "When I get to Folkestone," -I said, "I should see some one who could prove my identity," &c. The man -grinned. "It will be a long time before _you_ get to Folkestone," he -said, and he went away. Then I saw Dover Castle fade away, and we still -coasted on, and I saw a little town which looked strangely like the -pictures of Deal. At last a man next to me, recovering from a paroxysm -of sea-sickness, said, "You think you're in the boat for Folkestone, but -you are in the boat for London!" I had been swindled at Boulogne by a -notorious rogue. Some weeks afterwards I saw in the papers that he had -been arrested, after a similar case. - -I was in despair, not so much because of the long voyage, as because to -_pay_ for it was impossible. We were not to reach London till four in -the afternoon. I implored the captain to set me down, we were so near -the coast. "No," he said, "go to London you must." - -At last, as we passed Margate, he said I might perhaps get out, but it -was rather too much to sacrifice the comfort of three hundred and fifty -passengers to one. However, the three hundred and fifty seemed very glad -of a break in the monotony of their voyage, and as there was another -passenger anxious to land, a boat was hailed and reached the vessel. All -my packages were thrown overboard and I after them, with injunctions to -sit perfectly still and hold fast, as it was so frightfully rough. The -injunctions were unnecessary, since, exhausted as I was, I very soon -became unconscious, as I have so often done since in a rough sea. - -It was too rough to land at the pier, so we were landed on a ridge of -rocks at some distance from the shore. Seeing all my packages, the -coastguardsmen naturally took us for smugglers, and were soon on the -spot to seize our goods and carry them to the custom-house. Here I had -to pay away all that remained to me except sixpence. - -With that sixpence I reached Ramsgate. - -There were four hours to wait for a train, and I spent it in observing -the directions on the luggage of all arriving passengers, to see if -there was any one I could beg of. But no help came; so eventually I told -my story to the station-master, who kindly gave me a railway pass. At -Ashford I had four hours more to wait, and I lay almost unconscious -(from want of food) upon the floor of the waiting-room. Lying thus, I -looked up, and saw the astonished face of my cousin Mary Stanley gazing -in through the window at me. She was leaving in two minutes for France, -but had time to give me a sovereign; with that sovereign, late in the -night, I reached home in a gig from Hastings. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER (after returning to Southgate). - - "_August 27, 1851._--I have just got your dear letter to refresh me - after the first morning's work. It is strange to have to give - oneself to Latin again after having thought of nothing but French - for so long." - - - "_August 28._--When I hear of all you are doing, I cannot but long - to be with you, and yet I am very happy here in finding it so much - less disagreeable than I expected, the Bradleys perfection, Walker - very nice, and Portman delightful." - - - "_Sept. 12, 1851._--I have just been to the old chapel in Ely Place - and to the Savoy.... One may study architecture just as well in - London as abroad: I had no idea before what beautiful bits are - there." - - - "_Oct. 18._--I have had an unfortunate trouble with Bradley lately. - I am sure I have done right, but it is very unfortunate indeed. I - will tell you all about it. In my Latin exercise I put 'quo velis' - for 'go your way,' meaning 'go where you like,' which I thought was - the meaning of that English sentence. Bradley scratched it out, and - I said, 'But "go your way" does mean go where you like.' He thought - I contradicted him and was very angry, and appealed to the opinion - of every one at the table. They said it meant 'go away.' He said I - was very obstinate, and wrote down, '"I have a bad headache, go - your way"--what does that mean?' I wrote, 'Go wherever you like.' I - thought no more was going to happen, but, to my astonishment, - heard him send for Mrs. Bradley, who wisely refused to come. Then, - in a voice in which he never spoke to me before, he ordered me to - go into the drawing-room. I did, and asked Mrs. Bradley her opinion - (not able to believe he could really mind being differed from). He - followed in a moment, very angry, and said, 'Walk up to your room, - if you please, Mr. Hare, this instant.' I prepared to obey, but he - posted himself in the doorway and pushed me back into a chair. He - then asked me again to explain the sentence. I said of course he - was the only judge about the Latin passage, but that in English 'go - your way' might certainly be taken to mean 'go where you like.' He - said, 'If you are going to differ from me in this way, I shall not - attempt to teach you any more.' All that day, morning, afternoon, - and evening, I laboured or twaddled at arithmetic with Mr. Howse. - Late in the evening Bradley took me for a whole hour by myself and - tried to persuade me to say 'go your way' _never_ meant 'go where - you like.' I said if I did, it would not be true, but that I was - very sorry to have differed from him, and had never meant in the - least to contradict him. But it is no use; he quotes from the - Bible--'"The house divided against itself falleth," therefore I - cannot teach you any more.' I went to him again and said 'if I had - seemed the least ill-tempered I begged his pardon.' He said I had - not seemed at all ill-tempered, I had only _differed from him_. You - need not be alarmed, however, for he will never send away for such - a trifle the pupil who loves him best in spite of all his - eccentricities: I have only told you all this in _case_ anything - more should happen. As I called on the B.'s to-day, I asked, - without explanation, what they thought 'go your way' meant. They - said at once, 'Go where you like.'" - - - "_Oct. 21._--Dearest mother, the dispute with Bradley has now - assumed so much more serious an aspect that I am afraid it cannot - end well. For two days he said nothing more about it, so I did not - volunteer anything: he was only very unpleasant in his manner to - and about me. - - "This morning he called me into his dressing-room and talked. He - said that now he must write to you. But now he harps upon my - setting up my opinion, and having said in the first moment, 'I - always have thought so, and always shall think so.' In vain have I - acknowledged that this was a very improper speech, that I only said - such a thing hastily in a moment of annoyance, and in vain have I - begged his pardon repeatedly, and offered to do so, if he wished - it, before all his pupils. He says mine has been a successful - instance of open rebellion. I have in vain tried to convince him - how foolish a thing it will sound if I am sent away or go away - merely because my opinion has differed from his: he now says it - will be because I have 'rebelled against him'--though it would be - strange indeed if I had wished to 'rebel' against the only tutor I - have ever liked, from whom I have received so much kindness and - learnt so much. I did not think it would come to this, and even now - I cannot think I have done wrong, except in one hasty speech, which - I am very sorry for. - - "I am so sorry you should be troubled by this, dear mother, and - even now I think Bradley will not be so infatuated--so really - _infatuated_ as to send away the only one of his pupils who likes - him much, or would be really sorry to go." - - - "_Oct. 22._--Only a few words, my own dear mother, to say we are - all going now very much as if nothing had happened. I thought - yesterday morning I should certainly have to go away, as Bradley - repeatedly declared he would never hear me another word again, - because I had differed from him before all his pupils. But at - Cicero time he called me down and asked, 'Why did you not come down - to your Cicero?' I said, 'Because I was packing up, as you said you - would never hear me another word again.' He said, 'Oh, you may put - whatever qualification on my words you like: _whatever you like_.' - So I came down, and he took no notice, and I have come down ever - since, and he treats me as if nothing had happened. He must have - thought better of it. - - "Mrs. Bradley sent me a beautiful myrtle branch from the - nursery-garden, as a sign that all was right, I suppose: and I have - expressed all penitence that can possibly be expressed." - - - "_Nov. 13._--Yesterday I even let Bradley use his stick over the - Virgil to put him into a good humour, and then asked for leave to - go to the Temple Church ... and afterwards, brimful of the - descriptions in Knight's 'London,' I went to Crosby Hall and to St. - Helen's, Bishopsgate, full of delightful tombs. My coats are in - holes and my shoes have no soles, so will you please give me some - money to mend them?" - - - "_Nov. 23._--To-day I have seen Smithfield, and St. Bartholomew's, - and the Clerk's Well of Clerkenwell. I wonder if my 'kind good - Mama,' as Mrs. Barrington calls her in writing, will let me go to - see my cousins the Brymers at Wells before Christmas: old Mr. - Liddell has given me some money to take me there." - -[Illustration: IN ST. HELEN'S, BISHOPSGATE.] - - "_Harrow, Nov. 25, Sunday._--Yesterday I walked here with my - bundle, meeting Kate at the foot of the hill.... To-day we have - been to the Chapel Royal at St. James's, where Dr. Vaughan had to - preach a funeral sermon for the King of Hanover.[67] The old Duke - of Cambridge was there, and startled people by the cordiality of - his loud assent--'By all means!' to the invitation 'Let us pray.' I - must leave early to-morrow morning, as I have promised to be at - Southgate at 9 A.M." - - - "_Nov. 28._--We are in the depth of examinations. Some of the - fellows are so excited about them, that they do not go to bed at - all, only lie down on the rug at 5 A.M. for a short rest before - dawn. To-morrow is the 'great Napoleon stakes, when all the horses - are to run.' I think we shall have a pretty jumble, as we are to go - to sleep on Napoleon and wake on Charles V.--such a confusion of - campaigns (fifteen of Napoleon's) and places, and the passage and - flow of all the rivers the two heroes ever crossed." - - - "_Dec. 15._--On Thursday evening all the other fellows rushed up to - my room shouting 'Ichabod! Hare is plucked in Charles V.' They were - enchanted, because they thought it so conceited of me to take up - the additional subject; but their triumph was a short one, for it - was soon discovered that only half the marks had been added up. - - "Friday was a very long examination in the Bible. Amongst the - questions were--'Give the size, population, and government of - Nineveh; the route of Jonah to Nineveh from Joppa; the religions of - the sailors; where you suppose Tarshish to be, and the reason of - your supposition; who were Tirshakeh, Adoram, &c.' It was a most - interesting examination to get up. Yesterday was Euclid. It was - much easier than I expected, and finished by twelve, so Bradley - sent me to London on a commission. I had also time to go to the - Bunsens, who were at luncheon, but when I sent in my card, they - sent for me into the dining-room. Several gentlemen were there: I - believe one of them was the Duke of Nassau. Madame Bunsen is always - most kind in her welcome." - -My visit to Wells took place, and was most delightful. Mrs. Brymer was -the eldest granddaughter of John Lyon of Hetton, youngest brother of my -great-grandmother Lady Anne Simpson, and she and her husband Archdeacon -Brymer were most kind, genial, benevolent people, who had no children, -but lived very luxuriously in a charming house in "the Liberty" at -Wells. I had made their acquaintance at Bath when I was with Mrs. -Barrington. Though it was bitterly cold weather, I made many drawings of -Wells, which I have always thought the most perfectly beautiful -cathedral town in England, with its clear rushing water, old palace and -gateways, grand cathedral, and luxuriant surrounding orchards. It was a -visit I looked forward to repeating very often, but the kind Archdeacon -and his wife died--almost at the same time--very soon afterwards. - -All through the year 1851 the Père La Vigne had been preaching -constantly at Rome at the Church of S. Luigi dei Francesi. "Italima" -had gone to hear him, with many other Protestant ladies. One evening she -said to her faithful Victoire that she wished to be dressed very early -the next morning--in black, with a veil, as if for the Sistine. Victoire -did her bidding, and she went out early, and returned in the course of -the morning, when she called Victoire to her, and said, embracing her, -"A présent nous sommes vraiment sœurs; nous avons été toujours -sœurs; à présent nous le sommes doublement."--"Qu'est que cela veut -dire?" said Victoire to herself.--"Je suis devenue catholique," -continued Italima; "je l'ai été toujours au fond du cœur, à présent -je le suis en réalité." She then called Félix and took him by the -hand--"Victoire vous expliquera tout," she said. Lady Lothian had been -the "marraine," and, added to the influence of the Père La Vigne, had -been that of Manning, himself a recent convert to the Catholic Church. -That evening Italima said to Victoire, "Nous allons avoir la guerre dans -la maison," and so it was. My sister discovered (at a ball, I believe) -the next day what had happened, and she was quite furious--"en vraie -tigresse." "Il n'y avait pas de reproches qu'elle ne faisait à sa mère" -(records Victoire); "elle disait à sa mère qu'elle ne voulait plus de -elle. Elle se renferma avec sa tante. Cela dura plus que deux ans." To -Victoire herself she never spoke at all for several months. - -For two whole years my sister deserted the drawing-room of Palazzo -Parisani, and lived shut up with her aunt in her boudoir. Their chief -occupation was drawing in charcoal, in which singular art they both -attained a great proficiency. Esmeralda never spoke to her mother unless -it was necessary. Italima must have led rather a dreary life at this -time, as other events had already weakened her connection with the -members of her own family and most of her old friends, and her change of -religion widened the breach for ever. - -Lord and Lady Feilding[68] had been most active in urging and assisting -Italima's change of religion, and they now turned to my sister, leaving -no means untried by which they might make her dissatisfied with the -Protestant faith. As they left Rome, Lord Feilding put into her hand a -long controversial letter, imploring her to study it. That very spring -his own faith had been strengthened by a supposed miracle in his family. -Lady Feilding had long been ill, and had partly lost the use of her -limbs from sciatica. She had to be carried everywhere. All kinds of -baths and doctors had been tried in vain. The case was almost given up, -when Pope Pius IX. advised him to apply to a family of peasants living -in the mountains above Foligno, who possessed a miraculous gift of -healing. St. Peter, it was said, had passed by that way and had lodged -with them, and, on taking leave, had said that of silver and gold he had -none to give them, but that he left with them his miraculous gift of -healing, to be perpetuated amongst their descendants. A messenger was -despatched to this favoured family, and returned with a venerable old -peasant, respectably dressed, who went up to Lady Feilding, and, after -reciting the Lord's Prayer, Hail Mary, and Apostles' Creed, said, "Per -l'intercessione dei Sti. Apostoli S. Pietro e S. Paolo siete guarita da -tutti i mali come speriamo." He passed his hand rapidly over her limbs, -and making the sign of the cross, said, "In nomine Patris et Filii et -Spiritus Sancti"--and added, "E finito." Then Lady Feilding felt her -limbs suddenly strengthened, and rising, walked upstairs like other -people, which she had not done for many months, and the same afternoon -went to St. Peter's to return thanks, walking all over that enormous -basilica without pain.[69][70] Her illness returned slightly, however, -in the following winter, and in the summer of 1853 she died of -consumption at Naples. Her death was a great grief to Italima. - -It was in the Carnival of 1852, immediately after her mother's change of -religion, that my sister, after the then fashion of Roman ladies, was -seated in one of the carriages which in a long line were proceeding -slowly up the Corso, and whose inmates were employed in pelting those of -the carriages which met them with bouquets and bonbons. As she was -eagerly watching for her friends amongst those who passed, my sister -observed in one of the carriages, dressed in deep mourning among the gay -maskers, a lady who clasped her hands and looked at her fixedly. The -expression of the lady was so peculiar, that when her carriage reached -the end of the Corso and turned round at the Ripresa dei Barberi, my -sister watched carefully for her reappearance in the opposite line of -carriages which she was now again to meet. Again she saw the lady, who -again looked at her with an expression of anguish and then burst into -tears. The third time they met, the lady laid upon my sister's lap a -splendid nosegay of azaleas and camellias, &c., quite different from the -common bouquets which are usually thrown about in the Carnival. - -When my sister went home, she told her little adventure to her aunt and -mother while they were at dinner, but it did not make any great -impression, as at Rome such little adventures are not uncommon, and do -not create the surprise they would in England. - -The next morning at breakfast the family were again speaking of what had -happened, when the door opened, and Félix came in. He said that there -was a lady in the passage, a lady in deep mourning, who gave her name as -the Comtesse de Bolvilliers, who wished to speak to Italima at once on -important business. At that time there were a great many lady -_quêteuses_ going about for the different charities, and most of them -especially anxious to take advantage of the new convert to their Church. -Therefore Italima answered that she was unable to receive Madame de -Bolvilliers, and that she knew no such person. In a minute Félix -returned saying that Madame de Bolvilliers could not leave the house -without seeing Mrs. Hare, for that her errand involved a question of -life and death. She was then admitted. - -The lady who came into the room at Palazzo Parisani was not the lady my -sister had seen in the Corso. She said she was come to tell a very sad -story, and besought Italima to have patience with her while she told it, -as she was the one person who had the power of assisting her. She said -that she had a sister-in-law, another Countess de Bolvilliers, who was -then living at the Palazzo Lovati in the Piazza del Popolo: that at the -beginning of the winter her sister-in-law had come to Rome accompanied -by her only daughter, in whom her whole life and love were bound up: -that her daughter was of the exact age and appearance of my sister, and -that she (the aunt) felt this so strongly, that it seemed to her, in -looking upon my sister, as if her own niece was present before her: that -soon after they came to Rome her niece had taken the Roman fever, and -died after a very short illness: that her sister-in-law had been almost -paralysed by grief, and had fallen into a state of mental apathy, from -which nothing seemed able to rouse her. At last fears were entertained -that, if her body recovered, her mind would never be roused again, and, -two days before, the doctors had advised resorting to the expedient of a -violent mental transition, and had urged that as Madame de Bolvilliers -had remained for several months in her room, in silence and darkness, -seeing no one, she should suddenly be taken out into the full blaze of -the Carnival, when the shock of the change might have the effect of -re-awakening her perceptions. At first the experiment had seemed to -succeed; she had taken notice and recovered a certain degree of -animation; but then, in the Carnival, she had seen what she believed to -be her daughter returned from the grave; upon her return home, she had -fallen into the most fearful state of anguish, and they had passed the -most terrible night, the unhappy mother declaring that her lost daughter -had returned to life, but was in the hands of others. The sister-in-law -implored that Italima would allow her daughter to return home with her -to the Palazzo Lovati, in order to prove that she was a living reality, -and not what she was believed to be. - -My sister at once put on her bonnet and walked back with the second -Countess de Bolvilliers to the Palazzo Lovati, where the family rented -the small apartment at the back of the courtyard. When they entered her -room, the unhappy mother jumped up, and throwing her arms round my -sister, declared that she was her daughter, her lost daughter, come back -to her from the dead. Gradually, but very gradually, she was induced to -believe in my sister's separate identity. When she became convinced of -this, she declared her conviction that a person who so entirely -resembled her daughter in appearance and manners must resemble her in -character also; that she was herself very rich (her husband had been a -Russian), and that if my sister would only come to live with her and be -a daughter to her in the place of the one she had lost, she would devote -her whole life to making her happy, and leave all her fortune to her -when she died. My sister declared that this was impossible; that she had -a mother of her own, whom she could not leave; that it was impossible -for her to live with Madame de Bolvilliers. The Countess flung herself -upon her knees, and implored and besought that my sister would -reconsider her determination, but Esmeralda was inexorable. The -Countess then said that she was of a very jealous disposition; that it -was quite impossible that she could go on living in the world, and -feeling that her daughter's living representative was the child of -another,--that she should leave the world and go into a convent. My -sister, whose antagonism to Roman Catholicism was just then at its -height, besought her to reconsider this, urged the many opportunities -which were still left to her of being useful in the world, and the folly -of throwing away a life which might be devoted to the highest aims and -purposes. But Madame de Bolvilliers, on her part, was now firm in her -determination. Esmeralda then begged that she might sometimes be allowed -to hear from her, and said that she should be glad to write to her; -that, though she could not live with her and be her daughter, she could -never lose the interest she already felt about her. But Madame de -Bolvilliers said, "No! she could not have half love; she must either -have my sister altogether, or she must never hear from her; that would -try her and tantalise her too much." My sister then begged that she -might at any rate be allowed to hear of her once--of her well-being and -happiness, and, after much entreaty, Madame de Bolvilliers said, "Yes, -after a year has expired, if you inquire at a certain house in the Rue -S. Dominique at Paris, you shall hear of me, but not till then." She -then went into the next room, and she came back with a number of jewels -in her hands. "These," she said, "were the jewels my daughter wore when -she was with me. I must have one last pleasure--one last consolation in -this world, in fastening them upon the person of my daughter's living -representative upon earth." And so saying, she fastened the necklace, -bracelets, &c., upon my sister, who possessed these, the Bolvilliers -jewels, till the day of her death. More than a year elapsed and nothing -whatever was heard of the Countess. - -[Illustration: LE TOMBEAU NAPOLEON.] - -In 1854, Italima and my sister were passing through Paris. They drove to -see the Tombeau Napoleon, which was then newly erected at the Invalides. -As they returned, and as they were turning a corner, the name "Rue S. -Dominique" caught my sister's eyes. "Oh," she said, "the year has -expired, and this is the place where we were to inquire after the -Countess de Bolvilliers;" and in spite of her mother's assurance that it -was useless to look for her, she insisted upon driving to the number the -Countess had indicated; but the portress declared that she knew of no -such person as Madame de Bolvilliers. Upon this Italima said, "Well, now -you see how it is; I always told you she gave you a false direction, -because she did not wish you to find her out, and you will never -discover her." "But to find her I am perfectly determined," said my -sister, and she insisted on getting out of the carriage and knocking at -every door down the long extent of the Rue S. Dominique to make -inquiries, but without any result. Her mother followed in the carriage, -very angry, but quite vainly urging her to get in. Having done one side -of the street, Esmeralda insisted upon going up the other, and inquiring -at every door in the same way. Her mother stormed to no purpose. She -then insisted upon going back to the first house and inquiring who did -live there. "Oh," said the portress, "it is a convent of the Sacré -Cœur." When my sister heard this, she asked for the Superior, and -said, "Is there any one here whose real name it may generally be thought -better to conceal, but who was once known in the world as the Countess -de Bolvilliers?" And the Superior said, "_You_ then are the lady who was -to come from Rome in a year's time: you are exactly the person who has -been described to me. Yes, Sister Marie Adelaïde was once known in the -world as Madame de Bolvilliers." - -When my sister saw the Countess in her nun's dress, she found her -perfectly calm and satisfied. She no longer reproached my sister for not -having consented to live with her. She did not regret the step she had -taken; she was perfectly happy in her convent life with its regular -duties and occupations. She was also pleased that my sister should -frequently go again to see her. My sister went very often, and, while -visiting her, was introduced to the famous controversialist nun Madame -Davidoff, by whose teaching and arguments she was converted to the Roman -Catholic Church. - -The last thing Italima wished was that her daughter should become a -Roman Catholic, for my sister was at that time a considerable heiress, -the whole of her aunt's fortune being settled upon her, as well as that -which Italima had derived from Lady Anne Simpson. And Italima knew that -if my sister changed her religion, her aunt, a vehement Protestant, -would at once disinherit her. - -My sister said nothing to her mother of what was going on. It was -supposed that Madame de Bolvilliers was the only cause of her visits to -the Sacré Cœur. She also said nothing to her aunt, but her aunt -suspected that all was not right. My sister had abstained from going to -church on one pretext or another, for several Sundays. Easter was now -approaching. "You will go to church with me on Good Friday, won't you, -Esmeralda?" Aunt Eleanor kept saying. - -At last Good Friday came. Aunt Eleanor, according to her habit, went in -early to see my sister before she was up. My sister was more -affectionate than usual. As soon as her aunt was gone, she got up and -dressed very quickly and went off with her maid to the Sacré Cœur. -In her room she left three letters--one to her mother, bidding her come -to the church of the convent on a particular day, if she wished to see -her received: one to her aunt, telling her that her determination was -irrevocable, but breaking it to her as gently as she could: and one to -her greatest friend, Marguerite Pole, begging her to go at once to her -aunt to comfort her and be like a daughter in her place. "When Miss Paul -read her letter," said Victoire, "her lips quivered and her face became -pale as ashes. But she said no word to any one: it was quite awful, she -was so terribly calm. She took up her bonnet from the place where it -lay, and she walked straight downstairs and out of the house. We were so -alarmed as to what she might do, that I followed her, but she walked -quite firmly through the streets of Paris, till she reached Sir Peter -Pole's house, and there she went in." Aunt Eleanor went straight up to -Sir Peter Pole, and told him what had happened. Sir Peter was a very -excitable man, and he immediately rang the bell and sent for his -daughter Marguerite. When she came he said, "Esmeralda Hare is about to -become a Roman Catholic; now remember that if you ever follow her -example, I will turn you out of doors then and there with the clothes -you have on, and will never either see you or hear of you again as long -as you live." The result of this was that within a week Marguerite Pole -had become a Roman Catholic. Of what happened at this time my sister has -left some notes:-- - - "It was Madame Davidoff who led Marguerite Pole across the - courtyard of the Sacré Cœur to the little room at the other side - of it, where the Père de Ravignan was waiting for her. As she - opened the door he looked up in an ecstasy. 'Voilà trois ans,' he - said, 'que je prie pour votre arrivée, et vous voilà enfin.' She - was quite overcome, and told him that for three years she had seen - a figure constantly beckoning her forward, she knew not whither. - The Père de Ravignan answered, 'I believe that you will see that - figure for the last time on the day of your première communion;' - and so it was: the figure stood by her then, and afterwards it - disappeared for ever. - - "At the first Sir Peter had said that he would turn Marguerite out - of doors, and his fury knew no bounds. One evening Marguerite sent - her maid privately to me with a note saying, 'To-morrow morning I - shall declare myself: to-morrow my father will turn me out of - doors, and what _am_ I to do?' 'Oh,' I said, 'only have faith and - watch what will happen, for it will all come right.' And sure - enough, so it seemed at the time, for the next morning Sir Peter - sent for his housekeeper and said to her, 'I've changed my mind; - Miss Marguerite shall not go away; and I've changed my mind even so - much that I shall send to Mrs. Hare and ask her to take me with her - when she goes to see her daughter make her première communion.' - - "It was quite a great function in the church of the Sacré Cœur. - I was terrified out of my wits when I saw the crowd in the church, - and in the chancel were the Bishop, the Papal Nuncio, and all the - principal clergy of Paris, for it was quite an event. Marguerite - and I were dressed in white, with white veils and wreaths of white - roses. As the Papal Nuncio came forward to place his hands on our - heads, in the very act of confirmation, there was a fearful crash, - and Sir Peter fell forward over the bench just behind us, and was - carried insensible out of the church. Mamma went with him, for she - thought he was dying. When he came to himself his first words - were--'Louisa, Louisa! I have seen Louisa.' He had seen Lady Louisa - Pole. - - "When Lady Louisa was dying she said to Marguerite, 'My child, - there is one thing I regret; it is that I have had doubts about the - Roman Catholic Church, and that I have never examined.'" - -Of this time are the following notes by Victoire:-- - - "When your sister first insisted upon going to the Sacré Cœur, - she said it was 'pour voir.' 'O comme c'est drôle,' I said to - Madame Hare. But your sister was always obstinate in her own - intentions. 'Je veux examiner la religion catholique au fond,' she - said, 'ainsi que la religion protestante.' She got all the books. - She read those on both sides. Then she went to the Sacré Cœur - again. Her maid went to her three times a day. One day she took her - a great many things. 'What is it you take to Mademoiselle?' I said. - 'I take what she ordered me,' answered the maid, and I said no - more: but it was really the white dress, the veil, and all that was - required for the reception. The next day I had a note from - Mademoiselle asking me to come to her at eight o'clock. I showed it - to Madame. 'Eh bien, nous irons ensemble,' she said, and we went - together in the carriage. When we reached the Sacré Cœur, we - were shown at once to the chapel, and then I began to suspect. All - the nuns were assembled. At last a door opened and your sister came - in, all in white, with a long white veil on her head. She walked in - firm and erect, and knelt down at a _prie Dieu_ in the aisle. The - Père de Ravignan made a most touching discourse. He bade her, if - she still felt any doubts, to remember that there was still time; - he urged her not to come forward without true faith. At the end of - his discourse she walked firmly up to the altar and knelt on the - steps. She remained there while mass was said. After it was over - she was taken into the garden. There she embraced her mother and - me. A collation was then served.... Nothing was said about her - going away. 'Voulez vous amener votre fille?' said one of the nuns - at last to Madame Hare. 'Je la laisse parfaitement libre maintenant - et toujours,' she replied. 'Oh comme Mademoiselle était belle ce - jour-là; elle était fraîche, elle allait si bien avec ce grand - voile blanc, et ses beaux cheveux noirs, et ses grands yeux: elle - avait du couleur, elle était vraiment ravissante! elle était - radieuse!... Dans ce temps-là elle était la reine de tous les - bals--à l'ambassade, à la cour, partout: mais elle n'était jamais - plus ravissante de sa beauté que ce jour-là dans le couvent.'" - -The Dowager Lady Lothian[71] once told me that in the letter of -condolence which Madame Davidoff wrote to my sister after her mother's -death she said, "The cross which you saw on the day of your first -communion has been very heavy, but it has never crushed you." On the day -of her first communion she saw a huge black cross between her and the -altar. She lay on the ground, and it advanced to crush her, only it -seemed as if an invisible power upheld it, and then she saw that the top -was wreathed with flowers. Oh, how prophetic was this vision of the -cross! - -A few days after her reception, Sir Peter Pole fulfilled his word with -regard to his daughter Marguerite. He turned her out of his house, and -he never would allow her name to be mentioned again. Not only to her -father, but to my sister, and to her own sister, Alice Pole, every trace -of her was lost. How my sister met Marguerite Pole again, and of her -extraordinary history in after years, will be told later in these -volumes. - -I have been anticipating greatly, but it seems impossible to break up a -connected story into the different years in which their events occurred. -Meantime, without any romantic excitement and far removed from religious -controversy, our quiet existence flowed on; though I was always fond of -my sister and deeply interested in the faint echoes which from time to -time reached me from her life. - -Mrs. Alexander was now settled at the Rectory at Hurstmonceaux, and she -ruled as its queen. Uncle Julius consulted her even on the smallest -details; she ordered everything in the house, she took the leading part -with all the guests, everything gave way to her. And the odd thing was -that Mrs. Julius Hare (Aunt Esther), instead of being jealous, -worshipped with greater enthusiasm than any one else at the shrine of -the domestic idol. I have met many perfectly holy and egotistical women, -but Mrs. Alexander was the most characteristic specimen. - -[Illustration: CANON STANLEY'S HOUSE, CANTERBURY.] - -In the summer of 1851, Arthur Stanley had been appointed to a canonry at -Canterbury, which was a great delight to me as well as to him. "One of -my greatest pleasures in going to Canterbury is the thought of -Augustus's raptures over the place and the cathedral," he wrote to my -mother. And truly I did enjoy it, and so did he. The eight years he -spent at Canterbury were certainly the happiest of his life. We spent -part of my winter holidays there with him and his family. Mrs. Grote -used to describe Arthur truly as "like a sausage, packed so full of -information;" and, with many peculiarities, he was the most charming of -hosts, while his enthusiastic interest peopled every chapel, every -cloister, every garden, with historic memories. Arthur Stanley's was now -the most stimulating companionship possible. He had lost all the -excessive shyness which had characterised his youth, and talked on all -subjects that interested him (ignoring those which did not) with an -eloquence which "se moque de l'éloquence," as Pascal says. His canonry -was situated in its own garden, reached by the narrow paved passage -called "the Brick Walk," which then intersected the buildings on the -north-east of the cathedral. Just behind was the Deanery, where the -venerable Dean Lyall used to be seen walking up and down daily in the -sun in the garden which contained the marvellous old mulberry tree, to -preserve the life of which a bullock was actually killed that the tree -might derive renewed youth from its blood. The fact that a huge bough -rent asunder[72] from this old tree had taken root, and become even more -flourishing than the parent stem, was adapted as an illustration by -Arthur Stanley in a lecture in which he likened the two trees to the -Churches of Rome and England. - -Enchanting indeed were the many ancient surroundings of the mighty -cathedral--the Baptistery with its open arches and conical roof half -buried in ivy; the dark passage haunted by "Nell Cook;" the Norman -staircase, so beautiful in colour; the Pilgrim's Inn, down a narrow -entry from the street; the many tombs of the archbishops; and most of -all the different points through which one could follow Thomas à Becket -so vividly through his last hours from his palace to his martyrdom. I -made many drawings, chiefly in pencil and sepia, for my mother and aunt -deprecated colour. "Until you can draw perfectly you have no right to -it. Do one thing well, and not two badly," they said. Of course they -were right; and though often abashed and distressed by Aunt Kitty's -dictum--"Crude, coarse, harsh, and vulgar," after looking at my -sketches, I always felt the slight meed of praise just possible from her -lips a prize well worth striving for. I owe much to her (as to my -mother's) constant inquiry, after I had done a drawing I was conceitedly -proud of, as to what each line meant, and unless I could give a good -account of its intention, desiring me to rub it out; thus inculcating -the pursuit of _truth_, which she urged in drawing as in all else, -instead of striving after unattainable excellence. - -[Illustration: SITE OF BECKET'S SHRINE, CANTERBURY.] - -One great interest of this winter was going with Arthur Stanley -excursions to Bozledeane Wood and tracing out on the spot the curious -history of the so-called Sir William Courtenay, which is so strangely at -variance with the usually matter-of-fact character of the present -century. Briefly, the story is that of John Nichols Tom, son of a -maltster at Truro, who ran away from his wife, and, going to Canterbury, -announced himself as Sir William Courtenay, and laid claim to the title -and rights of the Earls of Devon. His dress was most extraordinary--a -scarlet robe with a crimson hanger. He was taken up, tried for perjury, -and confined in a lunatic asylum, but, while there, contrived to -interest Sir Edward Knatchbull in his behalf, and obtained his release -by Sir Edward's influence with Lord John Russell. On his return to -Canterbury in 1838, he gave out that he was not only Sir William -Courtenay, but Jesus Christ himself. It was not so much his dress, as -his long flowing hair, his beard, his perfect proportions, his beauty -and height, which lent themselves to his story, and his wonderful -resemblance to the well-known pictures of the Saviour. The rustics and -tradesmen welcomed him, and really believed in him. With forty of his -most devoted disciples he took up his abode in a village near -Canterbury. He was always preaching, and the chief part of his doctrine -was faith--faith in himself. He formed a plan of storming Canterbury and -seizing the cathedral on Whitsunday, when all the people were at the -service there. But this plan was frustrated and he lived in comparative -quietude till Michaelmas. Then a constable was sent to arrest him. The -constable found Courtenay with his forty disciples at breakfast at a -farmhouse near Bozledeane Wood, and when Courtenay saw him approach, he -went out, shot him, and leaving him writhing in agony upon the ground, -returned, perfectly unruffled, to finish his repast. After breakfast -"Sir William Courtenay" led his disciples down the path, which still -remains, into a hollow by a little stream in the heart of the wood. Here -his followers, under Colonel Armstrong, a fanatical leader from -Canterbury, threw up an earthwork, behind which they entrenched -themselves, and here they were surrounded by a body of troops sent out -in three bands to encompass them. Lieutenant Bennet, who was in command, -was sent forward to parley with the impostor. Courtenay, who stood under -a tree, waited till he came close up, and then shot him through the -heart! The troops then rushed forwards, but the fanatics, though greatly -astonished at the death of Courtenay, who, in spite of his professed -invulnerability, fell in the first onset, fought with fury, and defended -themselves with their bludgeons against the muskets of the soldiers. At -last seven of them were killed and the rest taken prisoners. - -Mr. Curteis, the Principal of St. Augustine's College, who went with us -to Bozledeane Wood, described the scene after the battle, the pools of -blood, the trees riddled with shot, the bodies lying in the -public-house, and the beautiful hair of Courtenay being cut off and -distributed amongst the people. It was fourteen years afterwards that we -visited the spot. We went to the farmhouse where the last breakfast was -held and the gate where the constable was shot. The view was beautiful -over the Forest of Blean to the sea, with the line of the Isle of -Sheppey breaking the blue waters. A boy guided us down the tangled path -to the hollow where the battle took place by the little stream, said to -be now frequented by the white squirrel and badger. The "stool" of the -tree under which Courtenay stood had lately been grubbed up. The boy -described Courtenay and his forty men lying on a green mossy bank -talking, the evening before they were attacked, and his giving -"bull's-eyes" to all the children on the morning of the battle. -Courtenay had great powers of attracting all who came in contact with -him. A girl belonging to the farmhouse (who on a previous occasion had -knocked his arm aside when he would have shot a magistrate) rushed about -during the engagement to give water and help to the dying, perfectly -regardless of the bullets which were flying around her. And after his -death his wife turned up, "Mrs. Tom" from Truro, most deeply afflicted, -for "he was the best of husbands!" - -I liked better being with the Stanleys at Canterbury than in London, -where they talked--as people in London do talk, and where my dearest -mother, who had lived only in the narrowest groove latterly, and -especially as to religious things, often felt it necessary to "testify -to her religious profession" in a way which was even more a -mortification than a pain to me. After we began to go abroad, and she -was removed from the "mutual admiration society" at Hurstmonceaux, she -took a wider view of everything,[73] and had a far better and more -general influence in consequence. But there was a time when my mother, -so infinitely tender and gentle in her own nature, almost seemed to have -lost her hold upon the liberality and gentleness of the Christian -gospel in her eager espousal of the doctrine of fire and worms beyond -the grave. I think it is St. Jerome who says, "Desire rather to act -Scripture than to write about it, to do rather than to say holy things." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Southgate, Feb. 10, 1852._--My own dearest mother, I am settled - here again after my most happy holidays, with the old faces round - me, and the old tiresome conversation about nothing but the - comparative virtues of ruff pigeons and carriers.... The last part - of the holidays at Canterbury was indeed perfectly delightful, and - I enjoyed it--oh! so much. I shall work very hard, and tell Arthur - I shall be quite ready for an examination on Pericles, Marathon, - and Arbela when I see him again. I am afraid Aunt Kitty thought me - awfully ignorant of Greek history, but I really never have had - anything to do with it.[74] I think of you and your walk through - the beautiful cloister when I plod through the muddy village to our - hideous chapel. It is very smoky and dirty and misty, but--I will - not be discontented." - - - "_Feb. 14._--And now I think of my dearest mother at home again, - sitting in the evening in her own arm-chair in Peace Corner, with - her little table and her Testament, and John and my Fausty[75]--all - white and clean--bringing in the supper, and, oh! how nice it must - be!" - -[Illustration: STEPS AT LIME.] - -It was very soon after her return from Canterbury that my mother, going -to visit a sick woman in the village, slipped down a turfy frostbound -bank near some steps in the garden at Lime. Unable to make any one hear -her cries for help, she contrived to crawl to the back part of the -house, whence she was carried to a sofa, and a doctor was sent for, who -found that her leg was broken. After very many weeks upon a sofa, all -lameness was cured, but the confinement, to one used to an active life, -told seriously upon her health, and my dearest mother was always liable -to serious illness from this time, though her precious life was -preserved to me for nineteen years to come. Henceforward I never left -her without misery, and when with her was perhaps over-anxious about -her. Mr. Bradley wisely sent me at once to her for a day that I might be -reassured, and I feel still an echo of the pang with which I first saw -her helpless--as I so often saw her afterwards. How I remember all the -sheltered spots in which Lea and I found primroses for her in the one -day I was at home in this bitterly early spring! - - - _To_ MY MOTHER (after returning to Southgate). - - "_March 13, 1852._--Yesterday we had 'a truce,' so I hurried to see - Gerard's Hall in Bow Lane before its demolition. It has latterly - been an inn, with a statue of Gerard the Giant over the door. A - wooden staircase leads into the wine-cellar, once Gerard's Crypt, - possessing slender arches and pillars, most beautiful in colour, - and forming wonderful subjects for pictures, with pewter pots and - stone pitchers thrown about in confusion." - - - "_April 29._--I have been to see Mrs. Gayford, the nurse who - brought me over to England. She is very poor, and lives in an attic - in the New Wharf Road, but was enchanted to see me. I sate upon the - old seachest which has been often with her to India, and heard the - history of her going to Mannheim and meeting my father with his - 'weak baby--very passionate, you know, but then it's in the nature - of such young gentlemen to be so.' And then she described the - journey and voyage, and my ingratitude to a lady who had been very - kind to me by slapping her in the face when she was sea-sick." - - - "_June 15._--We are in the midst of an examination in Thierry's - 'Norman Conquest.' At nine we all assemble in the dining-room, and - the greatest anxiety is exhibited: the 'prophets' proclaim their - views on the issue of the day, and the 'hunters' speculate upon the - horses who are to 'run in the Thierry stakes.' Bradley comes in - with the papers and gives one to each, and from that time we are in - custody: no one can exchange a word, and two fellows may never go - up to the table together. When we have done that set of questions, - generally between one and three o'clock, we are at liberty till - five, and then we are in custody again till we have done the next, - at nine, ten, or eleven. Bradley is on guard all day, or, if he is - obliged to go out, Mrs. B. mounts guard for him. They cannot employ - themselves, as they have always to wander up and down the rows of - writers with their eyes.... I like the life during these - examinations, there is so much more excitement than over ordinary - work, and one never has time to get stupid, but the others do - nothing but bemoan themselves." - -I think it must have been on leaving Southgate for the summer that I -paid a visit of one day to "Italima" and my sister in a house which had -been lent them in Grosvenor Square. It was then that my sister said, -"Mamma, Augustus is only with us for one day. We ought to take the -opportunity of telling him what may be of great importance to him: we -ought to tell him the story of the 'Family Spy.'" What I then heard was -as follows:-- - -For many years my sister had observed that she and her mother were -followed and watched by a particular person. Wherever they went, or -whatever they did, she was aware of the same tall thin man dressed in -grey, who seemed to take a silent interest in all that happened to them. -At last this surveillance became quite disagreeable and they tried to -escape it. One spring they pretended that they were going to leave Rome -on a particular day, announced it to their friends, and made secret -preparations for quitting Rome a week earlier. They arrived in safety -within a few miles of Florence, when, looking up at a tall tower by the -side of the road, my sister saw the face of the Family Spy watching -them from its battlements. Another time they heard that the Spy was ill -and confined to his bed, and they took the opportunity of moving at -once. As their vetturino carriage turned out of the piazza into the Via -S. Claudio, in order to attain the Corso, which must be passed before -reaching the gate of the city, the narrow street was almost blocked up -by another carriage, in which my sister saw the emaciated form of the -Family Spy propped on pillows and lying on a mattress, and which -immediately followed them. Constant inquiries had long since elicited -the fact that the Spy was a Sicilian Marquis who had been living at -Palermo when my parents were there, and whose four children were exactly -the same age as _their_ four children. Soon afterwards his wife and all -his children were swept away at one stroke by the cholera, and he was -left utterly desolate. With characteristic Sicilian romance, he -determined to create for himself a new family and a new interest in life -by adopting the other family, which was exactly parallel to his own, and -of which only the father had been removed--but adopting it by a -mysterious bond, in which the difficulty of a constant surveillance -should give entire occupation to his time and thought. When Italima -heard this, after making inquiries about him which proved satisfactory, -she sent to the Spy to say that she thought it much better this secret -surveillance should end, but that she should be happy to admit him as a -real friend, and allow him to see as much as he liked of the family in -which he took so deep an interest. But, though expressing great -gratitude for this proposal, the Spy utterly declined it. He said that -he had so long accustomed himself to the constant excitement of his -strange life, that it would be quite impossible for him to live without -it; that if ever an opportunity occurred of rendering any great service -to the family whose fortunes he followed, he would speak to them, but -not till then. - -When I had been told this story, my sister and Italima took me out in -the afternoon to drive in the Park. As we were passing along the road by -the Serpentine, my sister suddenly exclaimed, "There, look! there is the -Family Spy," and, among those who walked by the water, I saw the tall -thin grey figure she had described. We passed him several times, and he -made such an impression upon me that I always knew him afterwards. My -sister said, "If you look out at ten o'clock to-night, you will see him -leaning against the railing of Grosvenor Square watching our -windows,"--and so it was; there was the tall thin figure with his face -uplifted in the moonlight. - -In 1852 the extravagance of my two brothers Francis and William was -already causing great anxiety to their mother. Francis, who had lately -obtained his commission in the Life-Guards through old Lord Combermere, -had begun to borrow money upon the Gresford estate. William, who was in -the Blues, with scarcely any fortune at all, had plunged desperately -into the London season. When winter approached, their letters caused -even more anxiety on account of their health than their fortunes: both -complaining of cough and other ailments. One day, in the late autumn of -1852, my sister, coming into the diningroom of the Palazzo Parisani, -found her mother stretched insensible upon the hearth-rug, with a letter -open in her hand. The letter was from the new Sir John Paul, who had not -in the least got over his first anger at his sister's change of -religion, and who wrote in the cruellest and harshest terms. He said, -"Your eldest son is dying. It is quite impossible that you can arrive in -time to see him alive. Your second son is also in a rapid decline, -though if you set off at once and travel to England without stopping, -you may still be in time to receive his last words." - -Palazzo Parisani was at once thrown into the utmost confusion, and all -its inmates occupied themselves in preparing for immediate departure. -Owing to the great number of things to be stowed away, it was, however, -utterly impossible that they should leave before the next morning. -Italima's state of anguish baffles description, for Francis was her -idol. In the afternoon my sister, hoping to give her quiet, persuaded -her to go out for an hour and walk in the gardens of the Villa Medici, -where she would not be likely to meet any one she knew. In the long -arcaded bay-walks of the villa she saw a familiar figure approaching. It -was the "Family Spy." He came up to her, and, to her amazement, he began -to address her--he, the silent follower of so many years! He said, "The -time has now come at which I can serve you, therefore I speak. This -morning you received a letter." Italima started. "You are surprised that -I know you have the letter, and yet I am going to tell you all that was -in that letter," and he repeated it word for word. He continued--"I not -only know all that was in your letter and the distress in which it has -placed you, but I know all the circumstances under which that letter was -written, and I know all that has happened to your sons since: I know -all about your sons. Your son Francis was taken ill on such a day: he -saw such and such doctors: he is already much better: there is no -danger: you may be quite easy about him. Your son William is not in -danger, but he is really much the more ill of the two. Dr. Fergusson has -seen him, and a foreign winter is prescribed. It will not do for you to -go to England yourself, but yet he is not well enough to travel alone. -You have an old servant, Félix, who came to you in such a year, and who -has been with you ever since. You must send him to fetch William, and -here is a paper on which I have written down all the trains and steamers -they are to travel by, both in going and returning." So saying, and -having given the paper to Italima and bowing very low, the Family Spy -retired. Italima went home. She acted entirely on the advice she had -received. She unpacked her things and remained in her palazzo at Rome. -She sent Félix, as the Spy had directed: he travelled according to the -written programme, and in a fortnight he returned to Rome bringing -William back with him. The Spy never spoke to any member of the family -again. - -It is anticipating, but I may mention here that when we went to Rome in -1857, I wondered if we should see the Family Spy. I spoke of it to my -mother. As we passed through the Porta del Popolo, he was the first -person who met us. I saw him very often that winter, and again when I -was at Paris with my sister in October 1858. That winter my sister often -saw him at Rome. The next year was marked by our great family -misfortunes. My sister always expected that somehow or other he would -come to the rescue of the lost fortunes, but he never did. Some time -after she heard that he had died very suddenly about that time. - -When I returned to my mother in the summer of 1852, she was at -Eastbourne with Charlotte Leycester and very ill. It was the earliest -phase of the strange hysteria with which I was afterwards so -familiar--sudden flushings with a deathly chill over her face, and -giddiness, sometimes followed by unconsciousness, occasionally by a -complete apparent suspension of life, a death-like trance without breath -or pulsation, lasting for hours, or even for many days together. It is a -very rare illness, but it is known to doctors, and I believe it is -called "Waking coma." In this summer I first began the anxious watchings -of first symptoms--the swelling of my mother's fingers around her rings, -and then by a kiss searched if the alarming chill had already taken -possession of her face. Happily, the heavenly state of mind in which she -always lived took away from her the terror of these illnesses; the -visions which beset her waking and sleeping were of all things good and -beautiful: the actual trances themselves were to her a translation into -heavenly places and to the companionship of the blessed, and, for those -who looked upon her, a transfiguration. - -When my mother was able to move, it was decided that she must try -foreign air, which then and often afterwards completely restored her to -health for the time. It was settled that we should go to Heidelberg, and -as her cousin Charlotte Leycester was to travel with her, I was able to -precede her for a few days in the old Belgian towns, which, as I was -then in the first enthusiasm about foreign travel, I looked upon as -absolutely entrancing. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_St. Omer, July 15, 1852._--I shall never feel the day is properly - over till it has been shared with my own dear mother. I have only - left you a few hours, and yet, at an expense of one pound, how - great is the change!... We embarked at Dover at one, with a - cloudless sky and rippling waves, and an Irish lady near me was - most amusing, telling anecdotes first in French to her neighbour - on the other side and then in English to me. But half-way across - the Channel the thickest of fogs came on, we made no way, and cries - and whistles were kept up without cessation. Then it grew rough, - the Irish lady's jokes became less vivacious, and at last she - followed almost all the other passengers to the side of the vessel. - At five o'clock sea and fog subsided and we went on, but then the - tide had gone from the harbour, and when we were a mile and a half - from Calais, all the passengers were transferred to open boats. As - we were rowed in under the long pier, the beautiful fishing-nets - were being drawn up out of the calm waters, and the old French - faces with the high white caps and large gold earrings were looking - down as last year.... The railway journey was delicious through the - rich flat country, and the churches here, of the two missionary - saints, Bertin and Omer, are most interesting." - - - "_Bruges, July 17._--The heat is so intense that I am more inclined - to watch the perfectly motionless branches of the acacia under the - window than to do my duty by the sights. The old town and its - people all seem lulled to sleep by the oppression. Yet the Dyver - Canal is delightful, with its strange old towers and its poplar - trees, and the market on its bank filled with Dutch fishwives in - bright costumes.... My straw hat attracts much attention. 'Voilà le - costume anglais,' I hear the people say.... The _table d'hôte_ was - very amusing, musicians playing the while on harp, guitar, and - flute. To-night there is to be a procession which has had no equal - for a hundred years. - - "This morning I went to the Béguinage, a little village with walls - of its own in the middle of the town. The sweet-faced Béguine nuns - in long white veils were chanting the service in the church, ranged - in the stalls of the choir. They wore long trains, which they took - up when they came out of church. A priest was there, but the abbess - seemed to take his part in officiating.[76] ... The streets are - beautifully decorated for the procession, planted with living - fir-trees, half the height of the houses, which, as they are very - narrow, gives the effect of an avenue; but, behind, the houses are - hung with flags and tapestry. In some streets altars are raised, - surrounded with orange-trees and flowers. - - "10 P.M.--The ceremonial was to celebrate 'the jubilee of the - Carmelite tonsure.' ... The streets were all hung with flowers and - tapestry, and garlands made a flower canopy across them, beneath - which streamed crowds of peasants from every town in Belgium. Each - pine-tree was a huge Christmas-tree with thousands of wax-lights - blazing in the motionless air. Many hundreds of clergy formed the - procession, and Capuchins and Carmelites and Franciscans, many with - bare feet and flowing beards. There were also hundreds of - torch-bearers and children swaying censers. Then came troops of - young girls, 'brides of Christ,' in white, with garlands: then a - beautiful little boy as St. John leading his lamb by a string; - then Jesus, Mary, and Joseph--Mary crowned with a veil covered - with golden stars, and endless winged cherubs in attendance; then - abbots and canons; and lastly, under a crimson canopy, in a violet - robe, the Bishop bearing the Host. - - "The scene in the Grande Place was magnificent. Along the base of - the _halles_ burning torches rolled up their smoke around the - belfry and the brilliant banners, and the sea of faces was - motionless in expectation. It was a tremendous moment when the - immense mass of clergy had sung a hymn around the altar in the - square, and the Bishop took off his mitre and knelt upon the rushes - before the Sacrament. Then, as he lifted the Host in his hands, the - music ceased, and the whole multitude of people fell almost - prostrate in silent prayer." - -After visiting Ghent, Malines, Antwerp, and Louvain, I joined my mother -and her companions at Brussels, and we proceeded by the Rhine and -Frankfort to Heidelberg, where we found a charming apartment almost at -the castle gate, at the back of a baker's shop, with a little -oleander-fringed garden high on the hill-top, overlooking the town and -river. Two sisters and their cousin waited upon us. The castle gardens -were like our own, and delicious in their shade and freshness and the -scent of their roses and lilacs; and the courtyards and towers were -full of inexhaustible interest. We were never weary here of studying the -history of the English Elizabeth, Queen of Bohemia, and finding out her -connection with the different parts of the castle, and her little garden -with its triumphal arch was our favourite resort. We seldom went down -into the town except on Sundays, when the famous Dr. Schenkel preached -in St. Peter's Church at the foot of our hill. In the evenings we used -to walk along the edge of the hills, through flower-fringed lanes, to -the clear springs of Wolfsbrunnen, where there was a sort of nursery of -trout (_florellen_). The students shared the gardens with us, with their -ridiculous dress and faces scarred for life in the silly duels at the -Hirsch Gasse, which they looked upon as a distinction, and which -generally arose from quarrels about giving way to each other in the -street. They often, consequently, spent six hours a day in practising -the sword-exercise, to the ruin of their studies. When we were at -Heidelberg, all the clothes in the place used to be sent to be washed in -the village of Spiegelhausen, because there the water was softer, and -when its hills were covered with the linen of the whole town they -produced the oddest effect. A large Heidelberg family considered it a -great point of honour to have linen enough to last them six months, so -as only to send it to be washed twice in the year, when it went in a -great waggon to Spiegelhausen. A young lady always endeavoured to have -this quantity at her marriage. - -Lodging in the castle itself was M. Meyer,[77] afterwards a kind of -secretary to the Empress Augusta of Germany, a most singular man, who -was then employed upon an enormous poem, which he believed would throw -Dante into the shade, though it has passed quite unnoticed. He delighted -to read us some of its endless cantos in the castle gardens, and we -tried to look as if we understood and appreciated. But he was really -very kind to us, and was a most amusing companion in the long walks -which he took us--to the Angel's Meadow, a small green space in the -forests high on the mountains beyond the river, and elsewhere. I shared -his admiration for Mrs. Hamilton (_née_ Margaret Dillon, the maid of -honour), who was at that time in the zenith of her beauty and -attractiveness, and was living at Heidelberg with her husband and -children. - -We spent a day at Schwetzingen, where at that time was living the Grand -Duchess Stephanie, the daughter of the Comte de Beauharnais and -great-niece of the Empress Josephine, who had been adopted by Napoleon, -and married against her will (1806) to the Prince of Baden. My aunt, -Mrs. Stanley, was very intimate with her, and had much that was -interesting to tell of her many trials. - -It was during the latter part of our sojourn at Heidelberg that the -Stanleys (Aunt Kitty, Arthur, and Mary), with Emmie Penrhyn, came to -stay with us on their way to spend the winter at Rome, a journey which -at that time was looked upon as a great family event. With them I went -to Spires and its beautiful cathedral, and on the anniversary of my -adoption we all went over to Mannheim, and dined at the hotel where, -seventeen years before, I, being fourteen months old, was given away to -my aunt, who was also my godmother, to live with her for ever as if I -were her own child, and never to see my own parents, as such, any more. -I dwell upon this because one of the strangest coincidences of my -life--almost too strange for credence--happened that day at Mannheim. - -When we returned to the station in the evening, we had a long time to -wait for the train. On the platform was a poor woman, crying very -bitterly, with a little child in her arms. Emmie Penrhyn, who was -tender-hearted, went up to her, and said she was afraid she was in some -great trouble. "Yes," she said, "it is about my little child. My little -child, who is only fourteen months old, is going away from me for ever -in the train which is coming. It is going away to be adopted by its -aunt, who is also its godmother, and I shall never, never have anything -to do with it any more." - -It was of an adoption under _exactly_ the same circumstances that we had -been to Mannheim to keep the seventeenth anniversary! - -After parting with the Stanleys, we left Heidelberg on the 26th of -August and made a little tour. - - - _To_ MRS. ALEXANDER. - - "_Coblentz, Sept. 1._--Here we are again at Coblentz, in a room - looking on the friendly Rhine, with Ehrenbreitstein all new and - yellow on the other side the water, and the older houses of the - town below us. - - "Our little tour has been most successful. We went first to Baden, - and spent the afternoon in driving up through the forest to the - Alte Schloss, coming down in a splendid sunset--the golden Rhine - gleaming in a red valley through the dark pines. The next morning, - as I was being shown over the Neue Schloss, I asked about the Grand - Duchess Stephanie and the Princess Wasa, when the guide rushed to a - window and said, 'Come quick, for the princesses are riding out of - the courtyard upon their asses, as they do every morning before - breakfast;' but I saw little more than their shadows flit across - the court as their donkeys clattered through the gate. I was shown - the circular opening through which prisoners bound in a chain used - to be let down into the _oubliettes_ and their subterranean - judgment-hall, and the place where they had to give the _baiser de - la Vierge_, when they fell through a trap-door upon wheels set - round with knives which cut them to pieces. - - "Next day we went to Strasbourg--so hot it was!--and then to Metz, - where the cathedral is poor outside, but most glorious within--a - vista of solid round pillars terminating in a blaze of stained - glass. In one of the towers is 'Groggy,' a real dragon, dried. - - "A diligence took us to Sierck on the Moselle, where we had a long - time to wait, and mother sate and drew whilst I rambled about. It - was evening before the churches of Treves appeared above the - river-bank. We stayed at the charming Rothes Haus, with the little - cross opposite commemorating the fiery vision of Constantine, which - is supposed to have taken place there. Treves has a wonderful round - of sights--the Roman baths, a beautiful ruin with tall brick - arches, brilliant still in colour: thence up the vine-clad hill to - where a gap between two ruined walls forms the entrance of the - amphitheatre: back by the Porta Nigra, noblest of Roman gateways, - with the hermitage whither S. Simeon was brought from Syracuse by - Archbishop Poppo, and where he spent the rest of his life: finally - to the cathedral, and the Liebfrauenkirche with lovely cloisters - filled with flowers. - - "We made great friends with the old sacristan at the cathedral, who - gave us an extraordinary account of the last exhibition of its - great relic, the 'Heilige Rock,' or seamless coat of the Saviour, - when 30,000 persons passed through the church every day, weeping - and sobbing, singing and praying as they went. The coat is only - exhibited every twenty-five years, and awaits its next resurrection - entombed in a treble coffin before the high altar. It has certainly - done great things for Treves, as the cathedral has been restored, a - capital hospital built, and all the fortunes of the citizens made - by its exhibition. The sacristan was delighted to find that I also - was a 'Romische Burgher,' but hoped that in a few years I should - 'want some more cloth putting into my coat.'" - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Namur, Sept. 2._--Here I am, alone and dreary in the world once - more.... It always seems as if I could have done a great deal more - for you, and been more gentle and loving when I am gone, but I am - sure my own darling mother will never really have thought me - wanting in gratitude to her." - - * * * * * - - "_Braine le Comte, Sept. 3._--I believe no one has such misfortunes - as I have. I was at the Namur station at six this morning, and - here by eight. Then the guard suggested my going into the - waiting-room, as there was half-an-hour to wait before the train - came up for Calais, for which I had a through ticket. I had no - summons to the train: it came up on the opposite side of the - station (concealed by another train) in five minutes, and I was - left behind, and there is no train again till past seven o'clock - this evening, and then only to Lille!--eleven hours to wait!" - - - "_Southgate, Sept. 4._--As the dreary hours at Braine le Comte - waned, two English families arrived from Namur, and with two - ladies, 'Alice and Sybil,' and the boys of Sybil, I sallied out to - see Braine le Comte, and then into the forest to pick bilberries - for the luncheon which I had no money to buy. Then I arrived in the - night at Lille, and being unable to find a hotel in the dark, and - indeed having no money to pay for going to one, wandered about till - at length I collapsed altogether on the doorstep of one of the - houses. Here I was found by some of the old market-women when they - arrived for the opening of the market at dawn, and they took me - into the _halles_, and made me share their early breakfast. This - was a kind of black broth in a huge wooden bowl, into which we all - dipped a great spoon in turns, but it was most welcome, and the old - women were very kind to me." - -It was a great pleasure this autumn to pay a little visit to my mother's -old friend Miss Clinton, whose frequent visits to Lime had counted as -some of the happiest days of my childhood. She was essentially what the -French call "_bonne à vivre_," so good-humoured and cheerful, and so -indulgent to the faults of others. The crystal stream of her -common-sense had always seemed to stir up the stagnant quagmire of -religious inanities which the Maurice sisters had surrounded us with at -Hurstmonceaux. - - - "_Cokenach, Oct. 3._--I was so glad to come here for two days. The - dear old Stoke carriage with Lou Clinton[78] in it met me at - Royston. She took me first to see the antiquities--Lady Rohesia's - chapel and Roysie's Cave, which gave the place its name, and a - house where James I. stayed when he came hunting, in which his - bedroom is preserved with its old furniture: in the garden is the - first mulberry-tree planted in England. We reached Cokenach by the - field roads. - - "I was taken up at once to Lady Louisa,[79] who sate, as years ago, - in her large chair by the blazing firelogs, with all her baskets of - papers round her, and her table covered with things." - -As it was considered a settled point that I was to take Orders when I -was grown up (a point on which no single member of the family allowed -any discussion or difference of opinion), and that I was then to have -the rich family living of Hurstmonceaux, in the gift of my brother -Francis, my whole education up to this time had been with that -intention. My mother, therefore, was quite enchanted when my admiration -of the Béguinages which I had seen in Belgium led me, in the autumn of -1852, to devote every spare moment to a sort of missionary work in the -low wretched districts of Southgate. I had read in St. Vincent de Paul: -"L'action bonne et parfaite est le véritable caractère de l'amour de -Dieu ... c'est l'amour _effectif_ qu'il faut à Dieu," and I determined -to try to act upon it. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Sept. 29, 1852._--I have now regularly entered on my parochial - duties. There is a long strip of cottages in the village, yet out - of Southgate parish, and which the clergyman of their own parish - will have nothing to do with, as those of the inhabitants who go to - church go to Southgate, so that he gets no marriage fees. The - people would have been dreadfully neglected if Mrs. Bradley had not - taken care of them, and as it is, they are in a very bad state, - most of the men drunkards, and their wives and children starving. - As the houses look out upon an open drain, they teem with illness - for which there is no remedy. The children spend their days in - making mud-pies upon the road.... I have now got all these cottages - as my peculiar province. - - "Most of the people cannot, or fancy they cannot, go to church, so - I offered to have a sort of 'cottage reading' every Tuesday in the - house of one of the better people--a Mrs. Perry. I was rather - alarmed, though glad, to see how many came.... I tried to make the - reading as interesting and easy as I could, and afterwards ventured - upon a little 'discourse.' - - "It was strange to find this really heathen colony--for they know - _nothing_--close by, and I am glad to have a foretaste of what my - life's work will be like." - - - "_Southgate, October 12._--Mr. Bradley is in nothing so - extraordinary as in the education of his children. All the moral - lessons to his little daughter Jesse are taken from reminiscences - of his 'poor dear first wife,' who never existed. I am used to it - now, but was amazed when I first heard little Jesse ask something - about 'your poor dear first wife, papa,' and he took out a - handkerchief and covered over both their heads that no one might - see them cry, which the little girl did abundantly over the - touching story told her. Little Charlie's education was carried on - in a similar way, only the model held up to him was a son of Mrs. - Bradley's by an imaginary first husband, who 'died and is buried in - Oxfordshire.' Little Moses's mamma, 'Mrs. Jochebed Amram,' is also - held up as an effective example of Christian piety and patience, - but Moses himself never touches their feelings at all. I must send - you one of the allegories which I have heard Bradley tell his - children; it is such a characteristic specimen:-- - - "'Now I will tell you a story about Hare. When Hare was a little - child he lived at Rome: you know what we call it?--("Oh yes, papa, - Babylon.")--Well, he lived at Babylon, and he was a very good - little boy then, but he used to walk about dressed in scarlet, for - they all wore scarlet there. One day a man was seen in the streets, - very beautiful, a stranger with silver wings. And he said, "Are you - little Hare, and would you like to go with me and learn how to be - good?" for he was an angel. And little Hare said, "Oh yes, that is - what I always like to be and try to be, and I shall like very much - to go." - - "'So the angel took little Hare up and carried him away on his - back: and his poor mother went up and down the streets of Babylon - crying and wringing her hands, for she did not know where her dear - boy was gone. - - "'But the angel carried Hare to the Happy Island, where all manner - of little children were living--Ada and Angelina, and numbers of - others. All these little children came to Hare and asked why he - came there in his scarlet dress without getting it washed, because - they all wore white robes, and they told him he must get his robes - washed too. But he said he liked his scarlet clothes, and did not - wish to have white robes like theirs, and he was very sullen and - angry. - - "'So then the angel and the children left him alone and took no - notice of him. But after a time he observed that all the other - children had little wings while he had none, and he felt sorry when - the great angel passed by every day and took no notice of him, and - at last he said, "How sorry I am to have spoken as I did, and how - much I should like to have my robes washed and made white like - those of the Happy Island children." - - "'And the instant he said these words, his scarlet dress fell off, - and he had beautiful white robes given him, and he felt a strange - sensation in his shoulders, for little wings were growing there. - And all the little children came up and kissed him, and cried, - "Hosanna! hosanna! he is good; and he has got little wings like - us." - - "'So Hare lived on in the island, till, one day, the angel said, - "Have you ever thought what your poor mother is doing now, and - would you not like to go back to her?" And Hare said, "But can I - always be good and have white robes and wings if I go back to - Babylon?" And the angel said, "No, but you can try," and he took - Hare on his back and flew off and off till he came to Babylon, - where he set Hare down in the streets: and all the people looked at - him, and when they saw his white robes and his wings, they said, - "Why, there is a little angel come!" - - "'And Hare went to his mother when she was asleep, and when she - awoke she thought it was a dream, but he said, "No, mother, it is - no dream. I have been in the Happy Island all this time, and I have - come back good." Then his mother, when she saw his wings, said, - "Oh, go on being good, and then your wings will grow larger and - larger, till at last you will not only be able to go back yourself - to the Happy Isle, but to take me with you." And Hare wished to do - this, but nevertheless Babylon is a bad place, and as he went out - in the streets his dress became soiled with their mud, and he - mingled and played with its children till his wings grew smaller - and smaller, and at last they fell off altogether. - - "'Still, if you were to examine Hare on the bare shoulders when he - is undressed, you would see the stumps where the wings were.'" - -On the 17th of November I went up to London for the funeral of the Duke -of Wellington on the following day. Very late at night Arthur Stanley -arrived, having travelled day and night from Rome on purpose. We had to -set off at four o'clock next morning to reach our reserved seats in St. -Paul's, though I do not think the service began till twelve. We were -four hours in the long chain of carriages wending at a foot's pace -towards St. Paul's. A number of curious cases of robbery occurred then. -I remember one, of an old gentleman in a carriage before us, who was -leaning out of the carriage window with a pair of gold spectacles on his -nose. A well-dressed man approached him between the two lines of -carriages and said, "Sir, don't you know that you're very imprudent in -leaning out of the carriage window on this occasion with such a very -valuable pair of gold spectacles upon your nose? An _ill-disposed_ -person might come up and whip off your spectacles like _this_"--and, -suiting the action to the word, he whipped them off, and escaped -between the opposite line of carriages, leaving the old gentleman -without any chance of redress. - -The ceremony in St. Paul's was sublime beyond any power of words to -describe. I recollect as one of the most striking features the figure of -Dean Milman--bent almost double, with silver hair--who had been present -at the funeral of Nelson in 1806, when he "heard, or seemed to hear, the -low wail of the sailors who encircled their Admiral." My mother saw the -procession from the Bunsens' house at Carlton Terrace. - -In the winter of 1852-53 I passed through one of those phases of -religious conviction which ultra-Evangelicals would call a -"conversion"--an awakening at a distinct time which I can remember -(January 11) of the strongest feeling of repentance for past sin and -desire for improvement. "O amare! O ire! O sibi perire! O ad Deum -pervenire," are words of St. Augustine which expressed my whole feeling -at the time. I have no doubt that this feeling--exaggerated and violent -as it was--was perfectly sincere at the time, and possibly in some way -may have had a wholesome influence on my life. But I am quite sure that -in other ways it had a very _unwholesome_ influence, and that the habit -of self-introspection and self-examination which I then felt a duty, and -which many clergymen inculcate, is most injurious, as destroying -simplicity of character, by leading an individual to dwell upon himself -and his own doings, and thus causing him to invest that self and those -doings with a most undue importance. I have always in later years, where -I have had any influence, done all I could to discourage and repress -these sudden religious "awakenings," producing unnatural mental -sufferings at the time, and usually lapsing into an undesirable rebound. -With an imaginary reality of conviction, young people are often led into -hypocrisy, from a sense of the meritoriousness of that very hypocrisy -itself in the eyes of many. I am quite sure that a simple Christian life -of active benevolence and exertion for others, of bearing and -forbearing, is the wholesome state--a life which is freed from all -thoughts of self-introspection, and from all frantic efforts (_really_ -leading aside from simple faith in a Saviour) after self-salvation. I -dwell upon this here for a moment, though I dislike to do so, because no -narrative of my life could be true without it. - -The last nine months of my stay at Southgate were less pleasant than the -preceding ones, as Mr. Bradley had ceased to like me, and, though he -fully did his duty by me in work-time, plainly showed, out of working -hours, that he would be very glad when the time came for our final -separation. This change arose entirely from my resistance, backed up by -Dr. Vaughan at Harrow, to many of his absurd punishments. I was now -nearly nineteen, and I offered to bear any amount of _rational_ -punishment he chose, but utterly refused to wear my coat inside out, and -to run with a tin kettle tied to my coattail through the village, &c., -which were the punishments he liked to impose. - -But our final dispute came about in this way:-- - -My Latin prose was always the greatest stumbling-block in my work, and I -was most trying, and inveterately careless over it, making the same -mistake over and over again. At last Bradley decreed publicly, that for -each of my commonest blunders, one of my companions should--kiss me! -They thought it great fun, but I declared I would not submit. The decree -had a good effect so far, that, for a very long time--a most unusually -long time, the mistakes were evaded. At last, after about three weeks, a -morning came when one of the mistakes occurred again. The fellow -appointed to kiss me for this mistake was a big Scotchman named Buchan. -Immediately the whole room was in motion, and Buchan in hot pursuit. I -barricaded the way with chairs, jumped on the table, splashing right and -left from all the inkstands, but eventually I was caught and--kissed. - -In a blind fury, scarcely knowing what I did, I knocked Buchan's head -against the sharp edge of the bookcase, and, seizing a great Liddell and -Scott Lexicon, rushed upon Bradley, who was seated unsuspecting in a low -chair by the fire, and, taking him unawares, banged him on the bald -scalp with the lexicon till I could bang no longer. Bradley, after this, -naturally said I must leave. I instantly fled over hedge and ditch -fourteen miles to Harrow, and took refuge with the Vaughans, and after a -day or two, Dr. Vaughan, by representing the fatal injury it would do me -to be left tutorless just when I was going up to Oxford, persuaded -Bradley to take me back and teach me as before. But this he consented to -do only on condition that he was never expected to speak to me out of -work-time, and he never did. My Southgate life henceforth was full of -(in many ways well-deserved) petty hardships, though they were made -endurable, because the time in which they had to be endured became every -day more limited. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Southgate, Feb. 6, 1853._--Bradley of course keeps aloof, but is - not unkind to me, and it seems nothing to come back here, with - Oxford as a bright guiding-star.... I now work all day as if it - were the last day of preparation, and Walker and I question each - other in the evening." - - - "_Feb. 12._--I have been in my Southgate district all afternoon. - The wretchedness and degradation of the people is such as only - sight can give an idea of. In the last house in the upper alley - live the Gudgeons, where two children were born a few days ago, and - died a few hours after. I found Mrs. Gudgeon downstairs, for she - had brought the thing she called a bed there, because, she said, if - she was upstairs the children banging the doors maddened her. Two - dirty shaggy children, never washed or combed since their mother - was taken ill, were tugging at her; the eldest daughter, in - tattered clothes and with dishevelled hair, was washing some rags, - the fumes of which filled the room, while the floor was deep in - dirt. Since the mother has been ill she has had the only blanket - the family possess, so that she says the children howl with cold - all night." - - - "_Feb. 13._--To-day I found six of the Gudgeon children sitting on - three-legged stools, huddled round a miserable fire, the door - locked to prevent their running out into the snow. The mother said - 'the Almighty knew what was good when He took the two babies; He - knew I couldn't tell what in the world I was to do with - them--though they were pretty babies, they were, every bit like - little waxwork dolls. I sent for the doctor, but it was a cold - night, and I was a poor woman, so he wouldn't come; if he had come, - I should have known they wouldn't live, and should have had them - baptized, and then I should have been happier about them.' I asked - where the family all contrived to sleep. 'Why, sir,' she said, 'you - know we have but two beds, and I sleep in the middle of one with - Martha on one side and Polly on the other, and Lisa has her head - out at the bottom, and sleeps at our feet; and father sleeps in the - little bed, with Emma on one side and Tom on the other, and Georgie - he lies at their feet, and Lu she lies with her grandmother.'" - - "In another cottage I found that a good woman, Mrs. Caius, had just - taken in a dwarf child who had been much ill-treated by the woman - that took care of it. It had been dashed to and fro with - convulsions for three hours, and now its limbs were quite rigid and - stiff. It had not been stripped or washed for days, and its face - was so begrimed with dirt that the features were scarcely - discernible." - - - "_February 19._--Aunt Kitty has done a most kind act in securing - Mr. Jowett's protection for me at Oxford. I have had a kind note - from him, in which his using my Christian name at once is very - reassuring, though the fact that the seventeenth word he ever - addressed to me is a Latin one looks rather formidable for future - conversations." - -Unfortunately, when I was just prepared to go up to Oxford for -"Matriculation," I caught a violent chill while learning to skate, and, -just when I should have started, became most seriously ill with -inflammation of the lungs. As soon as I was able to be moved, I went to -the Vaughans at Harrow, where I soon recovered under kind care and -nursing. I always feel that I owe much in every way to the kindness and -hospitality of my cousin Kate during these years of my life. As the -authorities at the University were induced to give me a private -examination later, in place of the one I had missed, I only remained at -Southgate for a few days more. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_March 13._--My mother will like a letter on my nineteenth - birthday--so very old the _word_ makes it seem, and yet I feel just - as if I were the dear mother's little child still; only now every - year I may hope to be more of a comfort to her. - - "Yesterday afternoon I went with Papillon to take leave of the - (Epping) Forest. It was a perfect day; such picturesque lights and - shades on the Edmonton levels. We went through Chingford - churchyard, and then through the muddy forest to the old Hunting - Lodge, which I had never reached before, and felt to be the one - thing I _must_ see. It is a small, gabled, weather-beaten house, - near a group of magnificent oaks on a hill-top. Inside is the - staircase up which Elizabeth _rode_ to dinner in her first ecstasy - over the defeat of the Spanish Armada. Afterwards, I suppose - because she found it easy, she had a block put at the top from - which she mounted to ride down again. To prove the tradition, a - pony is now kept in the house, on which you may ride up and down - the stairs in safety. The lodge is still inhabited by one of the - oldest families of forest-rangers, who have been there for - centuries: in a room upstairs are the portraits of their ancestors, - and one bedroom is surrounded with tapestry which they declare was - wrought by the Queen's own needle. - - "And to-morrow I am going to Oxford--how exciting!" - - - - -VI - -OXFORD LIFE - -1853-1855 - - "When I recall my youth, what I was then, - What I am now, ye beloved ones all: - It seems as though these were the living men, - And we the coloured shadows on the wall." - --MONCKTON MILNES. - - "You are not bound to follow vulgar examples, nor to succeed--Fais - ce que dois."--AMIEL. - - "Study as if you would never reach the point you seek to attain, - and hold on to all you have learnt as if you feared to lose - it."--CONFUCIUS. - - -During a visit at Lime, Arthur Stanley had spent a whole evening in -entertaining us with a most delightful description of the adventures of -Messrs. Black, White, Blue, Green, and Yellow on their first arrival at -Oxford, so that I was not wholly unprepared for what I had to encounter -there. His kindness had also procured me a welcome from his most -eccentric, but kind-hearted, friend Jowett, then a Fellow and tutor of -Balliol,[80] which prevented any forlornness I might otherwise have -experienced; but indeed so great was my longing for change and a freer -life, that I had no need of consolation, even under the terrors of -"Matriculation." At nineteen, I was just beginning to feel something of -the self-confidence which boys usually experience at thirteen, and, as I -emancipated myself gradually from the oppressors of my boyhood, to yearn -with eager longings for and sudden inexplicable sympathies towards the -friendship and confidence of companions of my own age. There was also a -pleasure in feeling that henceforward, though I should always have to -economise, I must have _some_ money of my own, although a regular -allowance was never granted at Oxford, or at any other time. It was -partially the fact that I had no money to spend in my own way, and that -my bills were always overlooked and commented upon, and partly that I -had known no other young men except those whom I met at my private -tutor's, which made me still very peculiar in dress as in voice and -manner. I can see myself now--very shy and shrinking, arriving at Oxford -in a rough "bear greatcoat," with a broad stripe down my trousers, such -as was worn then, and can hear the shrill high tones in which I spoke. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Balliol College, Oxford, March 14, 1853._--I cannot help writing - to my own mother on this my first night in Oxford. I should not - seem to have got through the day without it. - - "I left Southgate with all good wishes and in pouring rain. When - the domes and towers of Oxford rose over the levels, I was not much - agitated at seeing them, and was very much disappointed at the look - of them. A number of young men were at the station, but I jumped - into an omnibus, and, in a tone as unlike a Freshman's as I could - make it, exclaimed 'Balliol.' Dull streets brought us to an arched - gateway, where I was set down, and asked the way to Mr. Jowett's - rooms. Through one court with green grass and grey arches to - another modern one, and upstairs to a door with 'Mr. Jowett' upon - it. Having knocked some time in vain, I went in, and found two - empty rooms, an uncomfortable external one evidently for lectures, - and a pleasant inner sanctuary with books and prints and warm fire. - My mother's letter was on the table, so she was the first person to - welcome me to Oxford. Then Mr. Jowett came in, in cap and gown, - with a pile of papers in his hand, and immediately hurried me out - to visit a long succession of colleges and gardens, since which we - have had dinner in his rooms and a pleasant evening. I like him - thoroughly. It is a bright beginning of college life." - - - "_March 16._--It is a member of the University who writes to my own - mother. - - "It was nervous work walking in the cold morning down the High - Street to University. Mr. Jowett's last advice had been, 'Don't - lose your presence of mind; it will be not only weak, but wrong.' - Thus stimulated, I knocked at the Dean's (Mr. Hedley's) door. He - took me to the Hall--a long hall, with long rows of men writing at - a long table, at the end of which I was set down with pens, ink, - and paper. Greek translation, Latin composition, and papers of - arithmetic and Euclid were given me to do, and we were all locked - in. I knew my work, and had done when we were let out, at half-past - one, for twenty minutes. At the end of that time Mr. Hedley took me - to the Master.[81] The old man sate in his study--very cold, very - stern, and _very_ tall. I thought the examination was over. Not a - bit of it. The Master asked what books I had ever done, and took - down the names on paper. Then he chose Herodotus. I knew with that - old man a mistake would be fatal, and I did not make it. Then he - asked me a number of odd questions--all the principal rivers in - France and Spain, the towns they pass through, and the points where - they enter the sea; all the prophecies in the Old Testament in - their order relating to the coming of Christ; all the relationships - of Abraham and all the places he lived in. These things fortunately - I _happened_ to know. Then the Master arose and solemnly made a - little speech--'You have not read so many books, Mr. Hare, not - nearly so many books as are generally required, but in - consideration of the satisfactory way in which you have passed - your general examination, and in which you have answered my - questions, you will be allowed to matriculate, and this, I hope, - will lead you,' &c. &c. But for me the moral lesson at the end is - lost in the essential, and the hitherto cold countenance of Mr. - Hedley now smiles pleasantly. - - "Then a great book is brought out, and I am instructed to - write--'Augustus Joannes Cuthbertus Hare, Armigeri filius.' Then - there is a pause. The Master and Dean consult how 'born at Rome' is - to be written. The Dean suggests, the Master does not approve; the - Dean suggests again, the Master is irritated; the Dean consults a - great folio volume, and I am told to write 'de urbe Roma civitate - Italiæ.' When this is done, Mr. Hedley stands up, the Master looks - vacant, I bow, and we go out. - - "At five o'clock, having got a cap and gown at the tailor's, I - return to Mr. Hedley, now very affable, who walks with me to - Worcester, to the Vice-Chancellor. The servant at the door says, 'A - gentleman is matriculating.' Mr. Hedley says he is going to - matriculate me. So we go in, and I write again in a great book and - sign the Articles. I swear to abjure the Pope and be devoted to the - Queen, and kiss a Testament upon it. Then the Vice-Chancellor says, - 'Now attend diligently,' and makes a little speech in Latin about - obedience to the institutes of the University. Then I pay £3, - 10_s._ and am free." - -On my way back through London I went to my first evening party. It was -at Lambeth Palace. Well do I remember my Aunt Kitty (Mrs. Stanley) -looking me over before we set out, and then saying slowly, "Yes, you -will _do_." At Lambeth I first heard on this occasion the beautiful -singing of Mrs. Wilson, one of the three daughters of the Archbishop -(Sumner). His other daughters, Miss Sumner and Mrs. Thomas and her -children lived with him, and the household of united families dwelling -harmoniously together was like that of Sir Thomas More. Another evening -during this visit in London I made the acquaintance of the well-known -Miss Marsh, and went with her to visit a refuge for reclaimed thieves in -Westminster. As we were going over one of the rooms where they were at -work, she began to speak to them, and warmed with her subject into a -regular address, during which her bonnet fell off upon her shoulders, -and, with her sparkling eyes and rippled hair, she looked quite -inspired. It was on the same day--in the morning--that, under the -auspices of Lea, who was a friend of the steward, I first saw Apsley -House, where the sitting-room of the great Duke was then preserved just -as he left it the year before, the pen lying by the dusty inkstand, and -the litter of papers remaining as he had scattered them. - -When I reached Southgate, Mr. Bradley received me with "How do, Hare? -Your troubles are ended. No, perhaps they are begun." That was all, yet -he had really been anxious about me. I was always so brimming with -exaggerated sentiment myself at this time, that I had expected quite a -demonstration of farewell from the poor people in the wretched Southgate -district, to whom--after a sentimental fashion--I had devoted much time -and trouble, and was greatly disappointed to receive little more than -"Oh! be you?" when I informed them that I was going to leave them for -ever. The parting with Mr. Bradley was also more than chilling, as his -manner was so repellent; yet in after life I look back to him as a man -to whom, with all his eccentricities, I am most deeply indebted. - -[Illustration: LIME, APPROACH.] - -During the greater part of the Easter vacation, my Uncle Penrhyn and his -daughter Emmie were with us,--still filled with the first sorrow caused -by Aunt Penrhyn's death a few weeks before. To me personally the death -of this aunt made little difference, though she had always been kind to -me--she had so long been ill, never recovering the birth of her immense -number of children, chiefly still-born, and wornout besides with asthma. -My uncle used to obtain for her a reprieve of sleep by mesmerising her, -but in this state, though immovable and taking rest, she could be talked -to, understood all that was said, and recollected it afterwards. I -remember on one occasion her describing her agony when, in a mesmeric -state, she knew a wasp had settled on her nose, and yet was unable to -move. It was partly distress for her sorrowing relations acting on one -in whom the mind so acutely affected the body, which made my dear mother -very ill this spring, with the usual trying symptoms of trembling, -confusion, giddiness, and sleeplessness. On such occasions I sincerely -believe I never had _any_ thought but for her. Not only for hours, but -for weeks I would sit constantly beside her, chafing her cold hands and -feet, watching every symptom, ready to read if she could bear it, or to -bring my thoughts and words into almost baby-language, if--as was -sometimes the case--she could bear nothing else. But when she was ill, -the dead silence at Lime or the uncongenial society from the Rectory was -certainly more than usually depressing, and I was glad when, as at this -Easter, her doctor sent her to Hastings. Here, in her rare better -moments, I had great enjoyment in beginning to colour from nature on -the rocks. On the day before I returned to Oxford, we received the -Sacrament kneeling by the sick-bed of Priscilla Maurice,[82] whose -sick-room, which she then never left, was facing the sea in White Rock -Place. At this time I had not only an _enthusiasm_ for religion, which -in itself was worth very little, but was just beginning to be filled -with a steady anxiety to fulfil all the nobler aims of life; and to -have a contempt for that life of much preaching and little practice in -which I had latterly lived at Southgate, teaching others while I made no -effort to improve myself. In going to Oxford, from the set I lived in, -the so-called moral temptations of Oxford life not only did not assail, -but were invisible to me. I believe the very fact that I was always -ready--far too ready--to speak my mind, made base men avoid me. My chief -difficulty was to do any work; not to see my acquaintance at all hours -of the day; not to shut up Sophocles in utter weariness of what I had so -often read before, that I might go out to talk and laugh with those I -liked. In fact, probably I should have done little or nothing at first, -if the Schools, like the sword of Damocles, had not been hanging over my -head--the Schools, which, as I wrote in my journal-book, had, for -hundreds of years, probably seen more continuous trouble and misery than -any other rooms in the world. - -On my way to Oxford, I paid a first visit to Hugh Pearson,[83] -afterwards my very dear friend, at Sonning Rectory near Reading, and -also visited the old Maria Josepha, Lady Stanley of Alderley,[84] at -Holmwood. Old Lady Stanley was then, as always, most formidable; but -her daughters Rianette and Louisa were not afraid of her, and in the one -afternoon I was there they had a violent dispute and quarrel, with very -high words, over which of their dogs barked loudest. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_University College, Oxford, April 9, 1853._--It is from my own - rooms, 'No. 2, Kitchen Staircase,' that I write to my mother--in a - room long and narrow, with yellow beams across the ceiling, and a - tall window at one end admitting dingy light, with a view of - straight gravel-walks, and beds of cabbages and rhubarb in the - Master's kitchen-garden. Here, for £32, 16_s._ 6_d._ I have been - forced to become the owner of the last proprietor's - furniture--curtains which drip with dirt, a bed with a ragged - counterpane, a bleared mirror in a gilt frame, and some ugly - mahogany chairs and tables. 'Your rooms might be worse, but your - servant could not,' said Mr. Hedley when he brought me here.... How - shy I have just felt in Hall, sitting through a dinner with a whole - set of men I did not know and who never spoke to me." - - - "_March 10._--The chapel-clock is _in_ my bedroom, and woke me with - its vibration every time it struck the hour. However, I suppose I - shall get used to it. But I was up long before the scout came to - call me at seven, and was in such fear of being late for chapel, - that I was ten minutes too early, and had to walk about in the cold - and stare at the extraordinary stained windows--Jonah and the whale - swimming about side by side; Abraham dragging Isaac to the - sacrifice by his hair; Mary and Martha attending upon Christ, each - with a brass ladle in her hand, only that Mary holds hers - suspended, and Martha goes on dipping hers in the pot while He is - talking. At last the Master entered statelily, and the troop of - undergraduates in black gowns and scholars in white ones came - clattering in; and Mr. Hedley read the service, and we all - responded, and a scholar read the lessons; and then there was a - general rush into Quad, and a great shaking of hands, at which I, - having no hand to shake, felt very blank, and escaped to my rooms, - and afterwards to breakfast with Mr. Jowett.... I am to go to him - every night with a hundred lines of Sophocles, some Latin - composition, and a piece of Cicero by heart--a great addition to my - eighteen lectures a week, but the greatest advantage; and really he - could not have done a more true kindness: I do not know how to say - enough of it. - - "I wish I knew some one in this college. It is most disagreeable - being stared at wherever one goes, and having no one to speak to, - and though the Hall, with its high roof and pictures, may seem - picturesque at first, solitude in society becomes a bore. Expenses - appear to be endless. This morning I held a levée. First a sooty - man with a black face poked his head in at the door with 'Coalman's - fee, if you please, sir,--half-a-crown.' The buttery, represented - by a boy in a white apron, came up next, and then the college - porter and scouts, though as yet all these officials have done for - me--nothing! A man who declared himself sole agent of an important - magazine, and also a vendor of flannels and 'dressing-robes,' has - also just called--'supposed he had the honour of addressing Mr. - Hare, and would I for a moment favour him with my approval,' which - I declined to do, when he thanked me for 'my great condescension' - and departed." - - - "_March 17._--I have now been a whole week here. It seems a life to - look back upon, and I am becoming quite used to it. My first - visitor was a man called Troutbeck. This was our conversation:-- - - "'I suppose you're fond of boating: we must have you down to the - river and see what you're made of.' - - "'But I don't boat: you would find me utterly inefficient.' - - "'Then you ride?' - - "'No.' - - "'Do you sing, then?' - - "'No, not at all.' - - "'Do you play rackets?' - - "'No, I neither boat, nor ride, nor sing, nor play rackets; so you - will never have been to call upon a more hopelessly stupid - Freshman.' - - "However, I have made plenty of acquaintances already, and I do not - see much of either the temptations or difficulties of college life. - In some ways a college repeats a public school. For instance, I - have made rather friends with a Canadian called Hamilton, who all - dinner-time has to answer, and does answer most good-naturedly, - such questions as--'Pray, are you going to Canada for the - long?--When did you hear last from the Bishop of the Red River?' - &c." - - - "_April 23._--Having been induced, or rather compelled, to give a - two-guinea subscription to the cricket club, I have just been asked - to a great wine given to show that Coleridge the undergraduate is - not the same as Coleridge the cricket collector. I have now to - prepare Latin prose for the cynical Goldwin Smith, but my principal - lectures are with Mr. Shadforth, a man who has the character of - being universally beloved and having no authority at all. The - undergraduates knock at his door and walk in. He sits at a table in - the middle, they on cane-chairs all round the room, and his lecture - is a desultory conversation--questions addressed to each individual - in turn. But he dawdles and twaddles so much over details, we have - generally done very little before the hour ends, when he says, 'I - will not detain you any longer.' I doubt if there is much good in - any of the lectures one attends, or anything to be learnt from them - except what one teaches oneself; still they are part of the college - routine, and so have to be pottered through. - - "There is a high Romanistic club here, called the Alfred, whose - members spend their time in passing ridiculous votes of censure on - different individuals. They are much tormented, but have a pleasant - imagination of martyrdom, and believe they are suffering for their - faith. When they met at Merton, the men of the college put slates - on the top of the chimney of the room where they were, and they - were almost suffocated with smoke. Here they met to pass a vote of - censure on--St. Augustine, and the whole time of their sitting in - conclave cayenne-pepper was burnt through the keyhole; and when it - was over, every window in the Quad along which they passed was - occupied by a man with a jug of water; so you may imagine they were - well soused before they got out. - - "The Schools are going on now. They seem less alarming since I have - heard that the man passed satisfactorily who construed ?????? - ???????--Julius Cæsar, and also the man who, when asked why they - broke the legs of the two thieves, said he supposed it was to - prevent their running away. It was all put down to nervousness. - Christ Church walks are now green with chestnut buds, and a - pear-tree is putting out some blossoms in the Master's arid garden - under my windows." - - - "_May 1._--I am writing at half-past six A.M., for at four o'clock - I got up, roused Milligan[85] (now my chief friend and companion), - and we went off to Magdalen. A number of undergraduates were - already assembled, and when the door was opened, we were all let - through one by one, and up the steep winding staircase to the - platform amid the pinnacles on the top of the tower. Here stood the - choristers and chaplains in a space railed off, with bare heads, - and white surplices waving in the wind. It was a clear morning, and - every spire in Oxford stood out against the sky, the bright young - green of the trees mingling with them. Below was a vast crowd, but - in the high air the silence seemed unbroken, till the clock struck - five, and then, as every one took off their caps, the choristers - began to sing the Latin hymn, a few voices softly at first, and - then a full chorus bursting in. It was really beautiful, raised - above the world on that great height, in the clear atmosphere of - the sky. As the voices ceased, the bells began, and the tower - rocked so that you could _see_ it swaying backwards and forwards. - Milligan and I walked round Magdalen walks afterwards, and when my - scout found me dressed on coming to call me, he asked if I had been - 'out a-Maying.' Yesterday afternoon I rowed with Milligan on the - river to Godstowe. It was so shallow, that if we had upset, which - was exceedingly probable, we could have walked to shore." - - - "_May 4._--I have now become a regular visitor at the lodging-house - of the Mendicity Society, which means taking my turn in going every - evening for a week to receive the beggars who come with tickets, - and reading prayers to them, besides giving them their supper, and - noting any remarkable cases which need help. It is a strange - congregation of wild haggard people, chiefly Irish, probably - meeting for that one evening only on earth, and one feels anxious - to do them some good. - - "I went the other day with Troutbeck[86]--a friend of whom I see - much--to Bagley Wood, where he sang old ballads under the trees - upon a bank of bluebells and primroses. I have many friends now, - and I never was happier in my life." - - - "_May 22._--I am in the Schools to-morrow for Little-go, having - insisted on going in, in spite of my tutors. I do not feel as if I - minded much, but some of my friends are so alarmed about themselves - that they can scarcely eat." - - - "_May 23._--This morning the School-yard was full of men in white - ties and Masters in hoods, friends catching friends for last words - of advice, &c. Then the doors of the four Schools opened, and we - poured in. The room where I was was full of little tables, and we - each had one to ourselves. Then a Don walked about distributing the - long printed papers to be filled up--arithmetic, chiefly decimals. - At first I felt as if I understood nothing, and I saw several of my - neighbours wringing their hands in the same despair which - overwhelmed myself, but gradually ideas dawned upon me, and I wrote - as fast as any one, and had only one question unanswered when we - went out at twelve. In the afternoon was the Euclid school--very - horrid, but I am certainly not plucked by to-day's work." - - - "_May 30._--You will rejoice to hear I am safe. Just as I was - preparing to decamp this morning, to be out of the way of the - authorities, I was caught by the Dean's messenger, and was obliged - to go to him. He began by saying he could not allow me to go into - the Schools, both my friends and the college would suffer; but I so - entreated, and declared, and exclaimed that I must go in, that I - would be careful, &c., that at last, as his breakfast was getting - quite cold, he gave in. - - "I had translations of Sophocles and Virgil to do on paper, but it - was not till the afternoon that 'Mr. Hare' was called for _viva - voce_. I really did pretty well, and as one of the examiners - considerately growled whenever I was turning down a wrong path, I - was able to catch up my faults. Mr. Jowett was present amongst my - friends, and as soon as all was over, carried me off to walk in New - College Gardens; and when we came back, it was he who went in to - ask my fate. He came back to me radiant with my _testamur_, and I - am very happy in the restful feeling of its being over, and no - other examination for so long. - - "I have just been electro-biologised in the most marvellous manner - by the power of Troutbeck's left eye! by which he is able to - mesmerise friends far away in their own rooms, and can make a - fellow called Barrow[87] clairvoyant, in which state he travels to - Rugby, and other places where he has never been, and accurately - describes all that is going on there." - - - "_June 6._--Commemoration has been most amusing--concerts, - flower-shows, &c. The procession of boats was really a beautiful - sight--all the college boats, with their different flags and - uniforms, moving slowly up between the banks crowded with people, - and saluting the University barge by raising their oars and holding - them straight up in the air as they passed." - -All through my first year at Oxford, Mr. Jowett (afterwards Master of -Balliol) continued to show me the utmost kindness, giving me extra work, -and allowing me to bring the result to him in the evening. I had been so -much neglected at Lyncombe, and so ill-grounded altogether in my -boyhood, that my passing all my examinations successfully was probably -owing to this generous action of his. Honours at Oxford, even in the -History School, I never thought of. My mother would only have wondered -what on earth I wanted them for, and, had I gained them, would have -lamented them as terribly ensnaring. I was profoundly grateful to Mr. -Jowett, but being constantly asked to breakfast alone with him was a -terrible ordeal. Sometimes he never spoke at all, and would only walk -round the room looking at me with unperceiving, absent eyes as I ate my -bread and butter, in a way that, for a very nervous boy, was utterly -terrific. Walking with this kind and silent friend was even worse: he -scarcely ever spoke, and if, in my shyness, I said something at one -milestone, he would make no response at all till we reached the next, -when he would say abruptly, "Your last observation was singularly -commonplace," and relapse into silence again. He was indeed truly -"intermittent," as Swinburne has called him. His quaint brevity of -speech was never more remarkable than when the Council, met in solemn -conclave, summoned "the little heretic," as he used to be called, into -its awful presence. Then, being asked, "Now, Mr. Jowett, answer the -truth; _can_ you sign the Thirty-nine Articles?" he dumbfoundered them -with--"If you've a little ink!" He could be very satirical. I remember, -in after years, when Jex Blake, afterwards Dean of Wells, had been -talking very prosily, he said, "I have long known that Law comes from -Lex, but I never knew till now that Jaw comes from Jex." - -On looking back through the mists of years, I am often surprised at the -acquaintance whose society I sought during my first terms at Oxford, few -of whom, except my dear friends Willie Milligan and George -Sheffield,[88] have had any share in my after life. This was partly -owing to the fact that the men who were at University in my time for the -most part belonged to so entirely different a station in life, that our -after paths were not likely to cross; and partly to the fact that those -who had _any_ mental gifts--for most of my companions had none--were -repulsive or disagreeable in their habits. - -Milligan was the first real friend I had ever had; before that, if I had -liked any one, they had never liked me, and _vice versa_. It was always -"l'un qui baisse, et l'autre qui tend la joue." - -Very odd and far less satisfactory were others of my early Oxford -friendships. One was for a man who imposed upon those younger than -himself by a sort of apathetic high-handed manner of his own, and whom, -when he professed a great preference for me, I used to look up to as a -sort of divinity. Many were the almost volumes of sentimental twaddle I -wrote both to and about him, and I used to listen for his footstep on my -staircase as the great event of the evening. But all this soon wore off, -and when my idol was once dethroned from its pedestal, it became a -contemptible object. - -An odder friendship still, made in my early Oxford life, was that for a -good-looking, sentimental, would-be poet. Of him I wrote home with -heartfelt enthusiasm, and at length, though I had never before asked -anything at home, took courage to persuade my mother to let me go abroad -with him to Bohemia for part of the long vacation. Before we set out he -came to stay with us at Hurstmonceaux, and greatly astonished my -relations must have been to find my charming young man so utterly -unlike what I had described him. But we had scarcely set out on our -travels before I found it out for myself--the first discovery being made -when he pronounced Cologne Cathedral "very pretty" and S. Aposteln "very -nice." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Andernach am Rhein, June 30, 1853._--I was delighted when we - rounded the corner of the river below Rheinach, and the old tower - of Andernach came in sight, with the cathedral, and the - vineyard-clad hills behind. The whole place is delightful. In the - evening we rambled up the rocks over carpets of thyme and - stonecrop, and saw the last tinge of yellow pass away from the sky - behind the cathedral and the light fade out of the river. All along - the road are stone niches with sculptures of the 'Sept Douleurs,' - and as we came in through the dark orchards a number of children - were chaunting with lighted tapers before a gaudy image of a saint - in a solitary place overshadowed by trees." - - - "_July 2._--This morning we went out at five, meeting crowds of - peasants coming in to market with their cheerful 'Guten Tag.' I - sate to draw at the Convent of St. Thomas in a rose-garden, while - A. read Hallam. At twelve, we drove through the volcanic hills, - covered with the loveliest flowers--blue larkspur, marigolds, - asphodels, campanulas, and great tufts of crimson pinks--to the - Laacher See, a deep blue lake, once the crater of a volcano, in a - wooded basin of the hills. It still sends forth such noxious - vapours that no bird can fly across it and live, and dead bodies of - small animals are constantly found along its shores. At one end of - the lake, Kloster Laach rises out of the woods, with a little inn - nestling in an orchard close under the walls of the church. The - exterior of that old Norman church is most beautiful, mellowed with - every tint of age, but internally it is disfigured by whitewash; - only the canopied tomb of the Phaltzgraf Henry II. is very curious. - We were so delighted with the place, that we sent away the carriage - and spent the evening by the lake, which was all alive with - fireflies, darting in and out with their little burdens of light - amongst the trees. In the morning we walked back to Andernach, - which was quite possible, as I had no luggage but a comb and a pair - of scissors." - - - "_Limbourg on Lahn, July 3._--What a tiresome diligence-drive we - have had from Coblentz here through endless forests, but we were - well repaid as we descended upon Limbourg. Our apathetic German - fellow-travellers were roused to 'wunderschön,' 'wunderliebliche,' - and even A. gave one glance and faintly emitted the word 'pretty.' - The view from the bridge is glorious. A precipitous rock rises out - of the flats, with the Lahn rushing beneath, and all up one side - the picturesque old black and white houses of the town, while - growing out of the bare rock, its front almost on the precipice, - like Durham, towers the magnificent cathedral, one of the oldest in - Germany, abounding in all those depths and contrasts of colour - which make the old German churches so picturesque--each window - having its different moulding of blue, yellow, and red stone: and - reflected in the clear water beneath. In the evening we walked to - the neighbouring village of Dietz--a long rambling street of old - houses, with the castle of Oranienstein overhanging them; and a - wonderful ruined bridge, with the river dashing triumphantly - through broken arches and over towers which have fallen into the - stream." - - - "_Marbourg, July 6._--We came in the diligence from Limbourg with - an emigrant family returning home from America, and words cannot - describe their ecstasies as we drew near Weilbourg and they - recognised every place as a scene of childhood. 'Oh, look! there is - the school! there is the hedge under which we used to have our - breakfast!' The noble old castle of Weilbourg, on a precipice above - the grey bridge over the Lahn, is very striking. The German waiter - at the inn asked with great gravity if we admired it more than 'the - castled crag of Drachenfels.' The endless forest scenery afterwards - was only varied by the huge castle of Braunfels, till a long avenue - brought us into the town of Wetzlar, which has a great red - sandstone and golden-lichened cathedral, with a grim and grand - Norman door called the Heidenthurm. At Giessen we joined the - railway for Marbourg, and the clock which is now striking nine A.M. - is that of St. Elizabeth![89] - - "The Church of St. Elizabeth is almost out of the town; a rambling - street of old timber houses reaches down to it, but its golden-grey - spires have nothing between them and the dark forest. Inside, the - grove of red sandstone pillars is quite unspoilt by images or - altars: one beautiful figure of St. Elizabeth stands in a niche - against a pillar of the nave, and that is all. In the transept is - the 'heilige Mausoleum.' Its red steps are worn away by the - pilgrims: the tomb is covered with faded gold and vermilion; on its - canopy are remains of fresco-painting, and within is a beautiful - sleeping figure of Elizabeth. All around are grey monuments of the - Landgraves, her predecessors, standing upright against the walls. - The choir opens into the sacristy, where is the golden shrine of - the saint. As we reached it, a pilgrim was just emerging, deeply - solemnised by a _tête-à-tête_ with her bones. In her daughter's - tomb the face is quite worn away by the hands of the pilgrims. The - tomb of Conrad, her confessor, is there also. The sacristan - unlocked a great chest to show us Bible tapestry worked by the - hands of the saint. Some of the old pictures in the church - portrayed the flight from the Wartburg, and St. Elizabeth washing - the feet of the lepers: all reminded me of the stories you used to - read to me as a very little child out of the great book at the - Rectory. - - "We went from the grave of St. Elizabeth to her palace--the great - castle of Marbourg, seen far and wide over the country and - overhanging the town, with a vast view over the blue-green billows - of Thuringian pine-forest. The castle is divided into two parts, - and you may imagine its size on hearing that 276 soldiers are now - quartered in one of them. A guide, who knew nothing of either - Luther or St. Elizabeth, except that they were both 'ganz heilige,' - let us into the chapel where Luther preached, and the Ritter Saale, - an old vaulted chamber where he met Zwingli and discussed - Transubstantiation." - - - "_Erfurth, July 8._--It is a delightful walk to the Wartburg from - Eisenach. A winding path through a fir-wood leads to an opening - whence you look across a valley to a hill crowned with a worn - gateway, something like one of the gates of Winchelsea. In the - intervening hollow some stone steps lead to a dark gap in the wood, - where is the fountain of St. Elizabeth under a grey archway with - sculptured pillars and overgrown with ferns. The water here is - excluded from the public as too holy for common use, but a little - is let out for the people into a stone basin below. By the side is - a stone seat, where it is said that Elizabeth used to wash herself. - - "Again a narrow path edged with blue campanulas, and then the grey - arch of the castle-gateway. You look down at the side, and half-way - down the gorge you see a little plot of ground called 'Luther's - Garden.' - - "The Wartburg is much like an English farmhouse. If Priest's - Hawse[90] was perched on the top of a mountain, it would resemble - it. It has an irregular court, of which rugged rock is the - pavement, surrounded with scattered buildings, some black and - white, and some castellated. The latter, which have two rows of - Norman arches and pillars and a kind of keep-tower at the end, were - the palace of the Landgraves and Elizabeth. The whole was full of - women and guides, geese, chickens, and dogs. We had some time to - wait in a room, where we were refreshed with 'lemonade' made of - raspberries, before we were shown over the castle--the most - interesting points being the chapel with Luther's pulpit, and the - room of his conflict with the devil, full of old pictures and - furniture, but with nothing which can be relied upon as - contemporary except his table and a stone which he used as a - foot-stool. When he threw the inkstand at the devil, the ink made a - tremendous splash upon the wall, but there is no trace of it now: - the relic collectors have scraped the wall away down to the bare - stones. - - "At the last moment at Eisenach I could not resist rushing out to - sketch 'Conrad Cotta's House,' where you have so often described - how Ursula Cotta first found the little Martin Luther singing - hymns. - - "The heat here at Erfurth is so great that I have been in a state - of perpetual dissolution. It is a dull town with a great cathedral, - and another church raised high above the market-place and - approached by long flights of steps. The Waisenhaus is an orphan - institution occupying the Augustinian convent where Luther lived as - a monk. All there is the same as in his time--the floors he used to - sweep, the doors he had to open, and the courtyard filled with - flowers and surrounded by wooden galleries. A passage lined with - pictures from the Dance of Death leads to the cells. Luther's cell - is a tiny chamber with a window full of octagonal glass, and walls - covered with texts: two sides were written by himself. The - furniture is the same, and even the inkstand from which I had to - write my name, while the woman who showed me the place mentioned - that the pens were not the same, for Luther's pens were worn out - long ago! There is a portrait by Cranach and writing of the three - friends, Luther, Bugenhagen, and Melancthon. - - "A. cannot speak a word of German, and never knows what to do on - the simplest occasion, loses everything, is always late for the - train, cannot pack his things up, will not learn the money, and has - left every necessary of life at home and brought the most - preposterous things with him." - - - "_Dresden, July 11._--We have seen a number of places on the way - here. In the old cathedral of Naumbourg is a fine Cranach picture - of St. Elizabeth, with the Wartbourg above her head and the - Marbourg church at her feet. In the cathedral of Mersebourg is a - most extraordinary picture of the Electoral family of - Saxe-Mersebourg receiving the dead Christ and bearing him to the - sepulchre. The family became extinct in 1738, and they all lie in - the crypt under the church in the order in which they lived, in - coffins covered with vermilion and gold, the little children in - front and the grown people behind. Above, is the tomb of the - Emperor Rudolph of Swabia, and in the sacristy they put into my - hand a thing which I thought was a hand carved in oak, but found it - was his own real hand, cut off in 1080! - - "Dresden announces itself by four black-looking domes and towers - above the flat horizon and then by the many arches of the long Elbe - bridge. It is very like a little--a very little Paris; the same - rows of tall white houses with green shutters: the same orange and - lime trees filling the air with their sweetness: only the river is - different, so gigantic and so bright. A broad flight of steps took - us to the stately Bruhl terrace above the river--golden in the - sunset. At the end an odd-looking building with a dome turned out - to be a Jewish synagogue, and we went in. One old Jew _in_ his hat - dropped in after another, till at last one of them put on a white - muslin shawl, and going up to a desk where the altar should be, - began bobbing his head up and down and quacking like a duck. Then - another in a corner, standing with his face close to the wall, - quacked also at intervals, and then all the rest chimed in, till it - was exactly like a farmyard. But no words can say how ridiculous it - eventually became, when they all burst out into choruses which - sounded like 'Cack a lack-lack-lack. Oh Jeremiah! Jeremiah! Oh - Noah's ark, Noah's ark! Cack a lack-lack-lack, lack, lack: loo, - loo, loo.' All the little black Wellington boots stamping on the - floor together, and all the long white beards bobbing up and down, - and giving an audible thump on the table at every bob.... And not - the least absurd part was that they seemed to think our presence a - compliment, at least they all bowed when we went out." - - - "_Schona on Elbe, July 16._--We left Dresden by the steamer--the - last view of the town very striking, with the broad flood of the - Elbe sweeping through a line of palaces. At Pirna we left the - boat, and a long walk through hot fields brought us to the entrance - of the Ottowalder Gründ. A flight of steps leads into a chasm, with - high rocks towering all round and the most brilliant and varied - greens beneath. In one place the narrow path is crossed by a - natural arch; then it winds up again through masses of forest and - deep rocky glens, till it emerges on the top of the Bastei. - - "I was disappointed with the Bastei, which is like a scene on the - Wye rather exaggerated. You look over a precipice of seven hundred - feet, and see all around rocks equally high shooting straight up - skywards in every conceivable and inconceivable form--pillars, - pyramids, cones: and up all of them fir-trees cling and scramble, - and bright tufts of bilberries hang where no human hand can ever - gather their fruit. There are bridges between some of the rocks, - and they support fragments of castles of the robbers who used to - infest the Elbe, and, beyond the river, all the distant hills rise - in columnar masses of equal irregularity. After dining at the - little inn, we walked on to Königstein, a fortress which has never - been taken, large enough to hold the whole population of Dresden. - Here a tremendous thunderstorm rolled with grand effect around the - mountain. There is a terrible parapet overhanging the precipice, - where a page fell asleep, and was awakened by one of the Electors - firing a pistol close to his ear to break him of the habit. A long - path through bilberry thickets brought us to the station, and we - took the train to Schandau, where we slept--very glad to go to bed - at ten, having been on foot since 4 A.M. - - "This morning we took a carriage for the first eight miles up the - valley of the Raven's Crag, and walked on to the Kuhl-stuhl. In the - very top of the hill the rock has made a huge natural arch, which - leads to an otherwise inaccessible platform overhanging the - valleys. The peasants drove their cattle here for protection in the - Thirty Years' War, whence the name of Kuhl-stuhl, and hither the - Bohemian Protestants fled for refuge. There is a natural slit in - the rock, with a staircase to an upper platform, which was the - refuge of the women, but only a _thin_ woman could reach this place - of safety. - - "Forest again, ever deeper and darker--and no human life but a few - women gathering faggots with bare arms and legs, till we reached - the Jagd-Haus on the promontory of the Lesser Winterberg, where - Schiller's name is cut, with others, in the mossy stone. Forest and - bilberries again to the hotel on the Greater Winterberg, where we - dined on mountain _florellen_ and strawberries and cranberries. - Forest, ever the same, to the Prebischthor, a natural arch - projecting over an abyss, splendid in light and shadow, and - altogether the finest scene in the Saxon Switzerland ... then a - descent to Schona. We found it easy to accomplish in a day and a - half that for which Murray allots four days." - - - "_Prague, July 17._--All through the night we travelled in a - railway carriage with twenty-two windows and eighty inmates. Dawn - broke on a flat country near the Moldau. At last a line of white - wall crowned a distant hill. Then, while an Austrian official was - collecting passports, railway and river alike made a turn, and a - chain of towers, domes, and minarets appeared above the waving - cornfields, one larger than the others--the citadel of Prague! - - "What a poem the town is!--the old square of the Grosse Ring, where - the beautiful delicately-sculptured Rathhaus and church look down - upon a red marble fountain, ever surrounded by women with pitchers, - in tall white caps: the streets of Bohemian palaces, with gigantic - stone figures guarding the doors: the bridge, with statues of - saints bending inwards from every pier, and the huge Hradschin - palace on the hill beyond, with the cathedral in its midst: the - gloomy precipice from which the Amazonian Queen Libessa hurled down - her lovers one by one as she got tired of them: the glorious view - from the terrace of the Hradschin, recalling pictures of the view - from the Pincio at Rome: the wonderful tombs of the Bohemian kings, - and the silver chandeliers and red lights before the shrine of St. - John Nepomuck in the cathedral." - - "_July 18._--On Sunday afternoon we were at the Jewish synagogue, - the oldest building here--older than Prague itself, and now only - used on the Day of Atonement and other great occasions. It is quite - in the midst of the Jews' quarter, which is entirely given up to - them, and inside it is black with age, its gothic pillars looming - out of a coating of soot and smoke, never allowed to be cleared - away. The centre was spread with draperies of cloth of gold and - silver. On the platform within them was the chief Rabbi, a - venerable man with a white beard which swept over his brown robe as - far as his waist. 'He is wonderfully learned,' whispered my - neighbour to me. 'He understands every language in the whole world, - and as for English he speaks it as well as an Englishman.' At last - there was a bustle in the crowd, and a young woman made her way - through, enveloped in a very curious ancient hood of worked gold, - and several very smart ladies crowded up after her: we followed. - Then the priest shouted in Hebrew so that the little building rang - again, and the Rabbi took a little silver cup of oil and--I - think--anointed the lady, and a service followed in which all the - people responded electrically as if a bell were struck; but it was - not till we came out that I found the lady in the golden hood had - been--married. - - "We went afterwards to the Jewish burial-ground--a wide rambling - expanse in the heart of the town, literally crammed with - tombstones, falling one over the other, and, between them, old - gnarled elder-trees growing fantastically. The cemetery has been - twice emptied!--and filled again. On one of the graves a young - Jewess was lying, evidently very ill. 'You see,' said the old woman - who let us into the cemetery, 'that the Rabbi who is buried there - was so good when he was alive, that when all the other people were - rooted up, they left him and his wife alone; and his good works - live on so much, that sick persons are often brought here to lie - upon his grave, in the hope of their being cured.' - - "One of a knot of palaces in the Kleinsite was Wallenstein's. Here, - one room is hung with artificial stalactites: in another are - portraits of Wallenstein and his second wife, and the charger which - was shot under him at Lützen, stuffed--but only the body remains - of the original horse, the head and legs have been eaten up by - moths and renewed! The garden is charming, with an aviary of - peacocks. - - "A. has been twice threatened with arrest for persisting in wearing - a wide-awake in the streets, for at present it is a revolutionary - emblem! At first he insisted on putting it on again, but the second - attack has been too much for his fortitude. Just now I was roused - by his shrieks, and reached his room just in time to see a large - black sheep emerge from under his bed!--it had walked in from the - market by the open galleries and had taken refuge there." - - - "_Bamberg, July 23._--We came here by Dresden and Saxe-Altenberg, - with its charming old castle. Near Hof the engine burst, doing us - no harm, but keeping us for hours sitting on the grassy railway - bank till another engine arrived, so that we did not get here till - 3 A.M. The cathedral is glorious. Only imagine my having found - Baron and Baroness von Usedom in the hotel, and the next morning - Lady Malcolm and her two daughters arrived--most kind, most - amusing--and Madame von Usedom most extraordinary. She received me - with 'You're wonderfully like your sister, and she is very - beautiful,' so that's a compliment!" - - - "_July 28._--We have had another vision of loveliness at Nuremberg. - One became quite weary of saying, 'Oh! how beautiful! how - beautiful!' But no letter can give an idea of what Nuremberg - is--'The German Venice' Madame d'Usedom called it. And Albert - Dürer is a part of the place: whenever I see his woodcuts again at - the Rectory, they will bring back the town to me--where his house - is, and his pictures, his statue, and most of all his grave, in a - cemetery full of hollyhocks and lilies." - -We came home by Augsburg, Ulm, and Heidelberg, and then through France -_via_ Chalons and Rheims. In thinking of present expenses (1895), I -often marvel at the cheapness of the long tour we had made. We had seen -the greater part of Germany and much of France, had travelled for six -weeks, and travelled in comfort, and, including journeys to and from the -coast of England, we _could_ each have spent only £25, for we had no -more to spend. I joined my mother at Ashburton Vicarage, near Dartmoor, -whence we saw "Wistman's Wood"--that wonderful stunted grove of -immemorial oak-trees in the midst of the moors. On our way home we went -to stay with Miss Boyle[91] at Portishead. It was my mother's first -sight of her, and she was much struck by that extraordinary person, for -whom at that time I had an almost passionate devotion, and who had -unfortunately just become notorious through her appearance--being -subpœnaed on the wrong side--at the trial of the false Sir Hugh -Smith, the claimant of Ashton Court. This trial created a tremendous -excitement at the time, and the decision was nearly given in favour of -the claimant. His wife, a daughter of De Wint the artist, had already -ordered the carriage in which she was to make a triumphal entry, when -the cause suddenly collapsed through the evidence of a jeweller who had -been employed to forge a brooch upon which much of importance depended. - -The Bishop of St. David's, Thirlwall, was staying at the Rectory when I -was at home. Excellent as he was, I was horribly afraid of him, for a -more repellent, freezing manner than his I never saw. I hated the -Rectory now more than ever, but was more than ever devoted to Lime. What -a vision I have now of its quietude in those hot summer days, only the -wind whispering in the old abele-trees and rippling the waves upon the -pool, and of the fresh morning smell of the pinks and roses and syringa, -bowed down by the heavy dew. Our intensely quiet life would have suited -few young men, but when my dear mother was well, and the Rectory not -too aggressive, I was always happy. Each day was a routine. Called by -our fat John at seven, when Fausty's black nose was poked in my face, I -woke to see the sun shining on the little pictures on the wall and the -old-fashioned china ornaments, and to hear Joe Cornford whetting his -scythe on the lawn under the windows. I was downstairs before my mother -appeared in her lilac dress to breakfast and prayers. Then we walked on -the terrace. I read--first aloud to her, then to myself--then went with -her round the field and to the girls' school. At one was dinner; at -half-past two we drove out--Fausty with us. Then my mother lay on the -sofa and I read: then came our tea-supper, and I read aloud again, and -mother sang such old songs as "Hohenlinden," "Lord Ullin's Daughter," -"Auld Robin Gray," or the Russian "Pojalite." Then, after prayers, I -helped her upstairs, and, at her little round table, she would say a -little short prayer with or for me out of her own heart, and I came down -to write till the melancholy sound of the mice in the wainscot drove me -to bed also. On my return to Oxford in October, I published in "The -Penny Post" my first story--"The Good Landgravine," about Elizabeth of -Thuringia--quite as important to me then as the publication of one of -my large books is now--and I obtained ten shillings for it with great -pride! I had much pleasure in a visit from Arthur Stanley this term, and -Mr. Jowett--"the great Balliol tutor"--continued his kindness and his -voluntary lessons to me, though I must often sorely have tried his -patience. I was, no doubt, a terrible little prig, and I have just -found, amongst old letters, a very kind one from him, written in the -vacation, urging me to make an effort to conquer "my conceit, which was -not vanity, but a constant restlessness about myself."[92] Jowett -was--tiresome perhaps, in some ways, but--one of the most unselfish -persons I have ever known. By his own life, as in his sermons, he -constantly inculcated disinterestedness, sympathy, and the love of God. -The Christian doctrines of the Incarnation, Resurrection, &c., he -utterly ignored, out of the pulpit as in it, and I believe Arthur -Stanley quite agreed with him in his heart, though he had not quite "the -courage of his opinions." - -"Reading men" used to congratulate me upon my intimacy with Jowett, -little knowing of how admonitory a nature were all his conversations -with me. Amongst the freshmen of the term were two with whom I became -great friends afterwards. One was Frederick Forsyth Grant,[93] whom we -always called "Kyrie," because when he went to spend the long vacation -at Athens (of all places in the world), he was called from his -generosity "Kyrie Dora"--the lord of gifts. The other was a peculiarly -boyish-looking fellow, with a remarkably lithe, graceful figure, and a -little Skye-terrier to which he was devoted. I remember the shy longing -I had to make friends with him, and my first visit after dinner--finding -him drinking coffee with his little dog by his side: it was George -Sheffield, my constant friend afterwards for very many years. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_University College, Nov. 18, 1853._--This morning I was asked to - breakfast with the Master, whose courteous placidity is such that - he looks as if turmoil, contradiction, and reform could never - approach him. He received us kindly but very solemnly, with an old - Miss Plumptre in a rich satin gown by his side. There was an awful - pause at first, while we stood in a row, and the Master and his - sister addressed an observation in turn to each of us, never going - out of the regular line. At breakfast I thought they talked - pleasantly, though the others pronounced it '_very_ flat.' When he - considered we had stayed long enough, the Master[94] pulled out his - watch and said, holding it in his hand, 'Good-bye, Mr. Gregson,' - when Mr. Gregson felt he must get up and walk out, and we all - followed. The Masters of colleges are really almost nonentities, - but have an absurd idea of their own dignity. The Provost of Oriel - the other day wrote--'The Provost of Oriel[95] presents his - compliments to the Dean of Christ Church,[96] and wishes to know - what time the examination will be;' and in answer was snubbed by - 'Alexander the Great presents his compliments to Alexander the - Coppersmith, and informs him that he knows nothing about it.' - - "I breakfasted the other day at Wadham with a most extraordinary - man called R., whose arms and legs all straggle away from his body, - and who holds up his hands like a kangaroo. His oddities are a - great amusement to his friends, who nevertheless esteem him. One - day a man said to him, 'How do you do, R.?' and he answered, 'Quite - well, thank you.' Imagine the man's astonishment at receiving next - day a note--'Dear Sir, I am sorry to tell you that I have been - acting a deceptive part. When I told you yesterday that I was quite - well, I had really a headache: this has been upon my conscience - ever since.' The man was extremely amused, and showed the letter to - a friend, who, knowing R.'s frailties, said to him, 'Oh R., how - could you act so wrongly as to call Mr. Burton "Dear Sir"--thereby - giving him the impression that you liked him, when you know that - you dislike him extremely?' So poor R. was sadly distressed, and a - few days later Mr. Burton received the following:--'Burton, I am - sorry to trouble you again, but I have been shown that, under the - mask of friendship, I have been for the second time deceiving you: - by calling you dear sir, I may have led you to suppose I liked you, - which I never did, and never can do. I am, Burton, yours &c.!'" - -The winter of 1853 was a very sad one. I found my dearest mother very -feeble and tottering, and it was a constant grief to me to see the -patient, worn look of illness in her forehead as she leant back in her -chair. She would occupy herself, however, as usual in cutting out -clothes for the poor, saying that her own sufferings from the cold -forbade her not trying to prevent theirs. I scarcely ever ventured to -leave her for a moment as long as we stayed at home, always inventing an -excuse to walk behind her whenever she went upstairs, for fear she -should suddenly fall. On the 20th of December, the Stanleys being absent -at Canterbury, we went up to their empty house in Grosvenor Crescent. -Here the winter was much preferable to that at Lime, and on the whole my -mother suffered less; but my life was that of a constant sicknurse, -scarcely ever away from her. When I was, I generally went in the dusk to -the National Gallery--too late to see the pictures, but I liked to -wander about in the almost empty rooms, and to feel that they were -there, and knowing no one in London myself, to make imaginary histories -about the one or two figures which still lingered, finding the same odd -refuge as myself from the turmoil of the town. In reading my journal of -this winter, I can recall the days of intense anguish I went through, -seeing before me, as I thought, the realisation of Dr. Chapman's verdict -that softening of the brain had definitely set in for my dearest mother. -As the year closed in gloom, I looked forward with terror to what the -next would bring, to the probability of not having another year to -_surround_ her with my love, to ward off every sorrow. Whilst conscious -that my character had certainly expanded under the happier life I had -been leading at Oxford, and that the interests of my friends there had -become as near my heart as my own, I realised that all I could be and do -for my own mother was no mere duty, it was the outpouring of my whole -soul; for I did not entertain an angel _unawares_. At the New Year my -mother's attacks increased; often she was unable to see and became -almost unconscious. Yet by the 21st of January she had rallied so much -that I was able to return in tolerable comfort to Oxford. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_University College, Jan. 22, 1854._--My dearest mother will often - have thought of her child in his college home: and _how_ often have - I thought of my own mother, and longed to be by her to watch and - take care of her still. I feel the blank on the staircase, now my - hand has nothing to do in helping you. It is a comfort that you - have plenty of nurses to take care of you; but the great comfort of - all is that you now no longer _want_ me. - - "I have new rooms now in the 'New Buildings.' They are not very - large, but the sitting-room has the charm of a beautiful oriel - window overhanging the High Street, with a cushioned seat all round - and a small writing-table in the middle: and the view is - delightful." - -I think it was during the Easter vacation of this year that a day of -national humiliation was appointed on the outbreak of the Crimean War. -Severely indeed was the fast-day observed at Hurstmonceaux. At Lime we -had nothing to eat but bread, and for dinner some boiled sea-kale, a -vegetable which I have ever since associated with that time; and I have -a vivid remembrance of the serio-comic face of our butler, John Gidman, -when we were ushered into the dining-room, with the table laid out as -usual, and, when the covers were taken off, only that amount of food was -displayed. In theory Aunt Esther was always urging the duty not only of -a saintly, but of an ascetic life, and it was not her fault that the -only cell where she could herself carry out in practice her austere -views was an orange-scented library lined with rare folios or precious -works of art. - -This, the second year of my Oxford life, was very enjoyable. Not -intending to read for honours, for which I had no ambition (as my -mother, unlike many parents, would have had no pleasure whatever in my -obtaining them, but, on the contrary, would have regarded them as a most -undesirable "snare"), I had plenty of time for other things, and pursued -those studies of French, Italian, History, and Archæology which have -been far more really useful to me than any amount of Latin and Greek. My -devotion to George Sheffield showed itself, amongst other ways, in -writing a story every week, which was presented to him on Sunday. Many -of these stories, though I forget them, must, I now believe, have been -rather interesting. Lady Sheffield used to keep them, and, as they all -referred to things and people long past, George and I used to make -schemes of publishing them some day in a black cover adorned with a -white skull and cross-bones, under the title of "Dead Dust,"--an idea -which, I am thankful to say, was never carried out. With Troutbeck and -Duckworth I used to attend and make copious notes of the lectures of -Professor Philips on Geology, which sometimes assumed a peripatetic -form. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Oxford, June 9, 1854._--At half-past ten yesterday, Troutbeck, - Duckworth, Bowden, and I, met the Professor and twenty-eight - fellow-geologists at the station. The Professor was dressed in a - queer old brown suit, and we were all armed with hammers, and - baskets to carry provisions and bring back fossils. We took the - train to Handbro', on the outskirts of Blenheim Park, and no sooner - arrived there than the Professor, followed by his whole lecture, - rushed up the railway bank, where he delivered a thrilling - discourse on _terrebratulæ_, which are found in that place, and for - which we all grubbed successfully immediately afterwards. And in - that extraordinary manner we perambulated the country all - day--getting on a few yards, and then stopping to hear a lecture on - some stone the Professor had spied in the hedge, or which one of - the party had picked up in the road. Greatly did we astonish the - villages we passed through. 'What _be's_ you all come - professionising about, zur?' said one old man to me. We had - luncheon in the remains of a Roman villa with mosaics." - - "In the evening we went to the Professor's 'Soiree.' Here I found - it much more amusing to listen to his sister's discourse about - 'poor dear Buckland--my friends Whewell and Sedgwick--my dear - friend Faraday--my very celebrated uncle, and my also celebrated - brother,' than to attend to the Professor himself, who was - exhibiting photographs of the scenery and geology of the moon." - -Amongst the remarkable persons whom I frequently saw in my earlier -Oxford life was the venerable Dr. (Martin Joseph) Routh, President of -Magdalen, born 1755, who died in 1854, in his hundredth year. He would -describe his mother as having known a lady who had met Charles II. -walking round the parks at Oxford with his dogs. He had himself seen -Dr. Johnson "scrambling up the steps of University." In him I myself saw -a man of the type of Dr. Johnson, and of much the same dress, and even -ponderous manner of speaking. I remember Goldwin Smith once asking him -how he did, and his replying, "I am suffering, sir, from a catarrhal -cold, which, however, sir, I take to be a kind provision of Nature to -relieve the peccant humours of the system." His recollections of old -Oxford extended naturally over the most immense period. Sir George -Dasent has told me that the President once asked him, "Did you ever -hear, sir, of Gownsman's Gallows?"--"No, Mr. President."--"What, sir, do -you tell me, sir, that you never heard of Gownsman's Gallows? Why, I -tell you, sir, that I have seen two undergraduates hanged on Gownsman's -Gallows in Holywell--hanged, sir, for highway robbery." - -A few years before the President's death, when he was at Ewelme, his -living in the country, his butler became insane and had to be sent away. -When he was leaving, he begged to see the President once more, "to ask -his blessing," as he said. The President received him in the garden, -where the man, stooping as if to kiss his hand, bit it--bit a piece out -of it. "How did you feel, Mr. President," said Sir G. Dasent -afterwards, "when the man bit your hand?"--"Why, at first, sir," said -the President, "I felt considerably alarmed; for I was unaware, sir, -what proportion of human virus might have been communicated by the bite; -but in the interval of reaching the house, I was convinced that the -proportion of virus must have been very small indeed: then I was at -rest, but, sir, I had the bite cauterised." It was often observed of Dr. -Routh that he never appeared on any occasion without his canonicals, -which he wore constantly. Some ill-disposed undergraduates formed a plan -which should force him to break this habit, and going under his window -at midnight, they shouted "Fire." The President appeared _immediately_ -and in the most terrible state of alarm, but in full canonicals. - -It was only forty-eight hours before Dr. Routh died that his powers -began to fail. He ordered his servants to prepare rooms for a Mr. and -Mrs. Cholmondeley, who had been long since dead, and then they felt sure -the end was come. They tried to get him upstairs to bed, but he -struggled with the banisters as with an imaginary enemy. He then spoke -of pedigrees, and remarked that a Mr. Edwards was descended from two -royal families: he just murmured something about the American war, and -then he expired. He left his widow very ill provided for, but the -college gave her a handsome income. - -On reaching home in the summer of 1854, all the anxieties of the -previous winter about my mother's health were renewed. She was utterly -incapable of either any physical or any mental effort, and my every -minute was occupied in an agony of watchfulness over her. I felt then, -as so often since, that the only chance of her restoration was from the -elasticity of foreign air, and then, as so often since, was my misery -and anxiety increased by the cruel taunts of my aunts, who protested -that I was only trying to drag her away from home, at a sacrifice to her -comfort, from a most selfish desire for my own amusement. However, when -a short stay at Southborough and Eastbourne seemed rather to increase -than cure the malady, the absolute decision of her doctor caused the -talked-of journey to be accomplished, and we set out for Switzerland, -accompanied by Charlotte Leycester,--my mother, as usual, being quite -delighted to go abroad, and saying, "I have no doubt as soon as I reach -Boulogne I shall be quite well,"--a result which was very nearly -obtained. We lingered first at Fontainebleau, with its pompous but then -desolate château, and gardens brilliant with blue larkspurs and white -feverfew--the commonest plants producing an effect I have seldom seen -elsewhere. A pet trout, certainly of enormous age, and having its scales -covered with a kind of fungus, was alive then, and came up for biscuit: -it was said to have belonged to Marie Antoinette. At Chalons we took the -steamer down the Saône, and a picture that dwells with me through life -is that of the glorious effect, as we entered Lyons, of the sun suddenly -bursting through the dark thunderclouds and lighting up every projection -of roof and window in the tall houses which lined the quay and the -bright figures beneath. I have often been at Lyons since, but have never -cared for it as I did then, when we stayed long enough to enjoy S. -Martin d'Ainay, and the picturesque ascent to the Fouvières and noble -view from its terrace, and to marvel at the vast collection of votive -offerings, memorials of those who prayed to the Virgin in danger and -were protected by her, while we wondered where the memorials of those -were who invoked her and whose prayers were _not_ answered. My mother -went straight from Lyons to Aix-les-Bains by _voiturier_, but I -lingered to see the beauties of Vienne, and followed by steamer up the -Rhone and Lac de Bourget with my Southgate friend Walter Portman.[97] We -found Aix terribly hot, and generally spent the evenings by or on the -lake, where one day my mother, Lea, and I were in some danger, being -caught in a tremendous _burrasco_. Thence a most wearisome journey -_voiturier_ took us from Aix to Geneva, a place for which I conceived -the most intense aversion, from its hot baking situation, and the -illiberal and presumptuous "religion" of its inhabitants. While there, -in a hotel facing the lake, I was called up in the middle of the night -to Lea, who was very alarmingly ill, and while attending to and trying -to calm her, was roused by shrieks of "Fire" in the street, and saw the -opposite house burst into flame. Alarm-bells rang, engines were -summoned, crowds arrived, and only a change in the wind saved us from -destruction or flight. We moved afterwards to the Hôtel des Etrangers, a -house in a damp garden near the lake. Here we were seated almost alone -at the little _table-d'hôte_ when we heard the most extraordinary -hissing and rushing sound, like a clock being wound up, and a very -little lady entered, who seemed to be impelled into the room, followed -by her husband. On reaching her chair, several loud clicks resulted in -her being lifted into it as by invisible power! It was Mrs. Archer -Clive, the then celebrated authoress of "Paul Ferroll," who had no legs, -and moved by clock-work. - -While at Geneva, I saw many of its peculiar celebrities, especially M. -Gaussen and M. Merle d'Aubigné, the historian of the Reformation, whose -real name was only Merle, the sequence having been adopted from his -former residence. He had a very striking appearance, his hair being -quite grey, but his shaggy eyebrows deep black, with a fine forehead and -expression. Another person we saw was M. Berthollet, with an enormous -head. It was with difficulty that any of these persons could be -convinced that our sole object in coming to Geneva was not to see a -certain pasteur, of whom we had never even heard. We visited Ferney, -which thrives upon the unpleasant memory of Voltaire, who had a villa -there, in which we saw the tomb of--his heart! The inn has as its sign a -portrait of him in his French wig. - -We spent a pleasant afternoon at Colonel Tronchin's lovely villa. He was -a most excellent man, and one could not help seeing how nobly and -unostentatiously he employed his large fortune for the good of others. -Yet one could not help seeing also how many of his followers put up -their religious scruples like an umbrella to ward off whatever was not -quite to their liking--how "No, I could not think of it; it would be -against my conscience," became at Geneva, as elsewhere, very liable to -be said in pure selfishness. - -My mother's sufferings from the heat led to our going from Geneva to -Chamounix. On the way we slept at St. Martin. As I was drawing there -upon the bridge, a little girl came to beg, but beggars were so common -that I paid no attention to her entreaties, till her queer expression -attracted me, and a boy who came up at the same time described her as an -"abandonnée," for her father was in prison, her sister dead, and her -mother had deserted her and gone off to Paris. The child, who had -scarcely an apology for being clothed, verified this in a touching and -at the same time an elf-like way--grinning and bemoaning her sorrows in -the same breath. Charlotte Leycester gave her four sous, with which she -was so enchanted that she rushed away, throwing her hands into the air -and making every demonstration of delight, and we thought we should see -no more of her. However, in going home, we found her under a wall on -the other side of the bridge, where she showed us with rapture the bread -she had been able to buy with the money which had been given her. An old -woman standing by told us about her--how wonderfully little the child -lived on, sleeping from door to door, and how extraordinary her spirits -still were. It was so odd a case, and there was something so interesting -in the child, that we determined to follow her, and see where she really -would go to sleep. To our surprise, instead of guiding us through the -village, she took her way straight up the woods on the mountain-side, by -a path which she assured us was frequented by wolves. It was very dark, -and the place she led us to was most desolate--some châlets standing by -themselves in the woods, almost at the foot of the mountain; the glass -gone from the windows, which were filled up with straw and bits of wood. -Meantime we had made out from the child that her name was Toinette, -daughter of François Bernard, and that she once lived in the -neighbouring village of Passy, where her home had been burnt to the -ground, a scene which she described with marvellous gesticulations. She -seemed to have conceived the greatest affection for Charlotte. When -asked if she knew that it was wrong to lie and steal, she said, "Rather -than steal, I would have my head cut off, like the people in the -prisons. I pray every day, and my prayer shall be always for you, -Madame." - -A great dog flew out of the cottage at us, but Toinette drove it away, -and called out a woman who was standing in the doorway. The woman said -she knew nothing of Toinette, but that she had implored to sleep there -about three weeks before, and that she had slept there ever since; and -then the child, caressing her and stroking her cheeks, begged to be -allowed to do the same again. The woman offered to go with us to another -house, where the people knew the child better. On arriving, we heard the -inmates at prayers inside, singing a simple litany in responses. -Afterwards they came out to speak to us. They said it was but for a very -small matter François Bernard was imprisoned, as he had only stolen some -bread when he was starving, but that, if he came back, he could do -nothing for Toinette, and as her uncles were idiots, there was nobody to -take care of her: if we wished to do anything for her, we had better -speak to the Syndic, who lived higher up the mountain; so thither we -proceeded, with Toinette and all her female friends in our train. - -It was a strange walk, by starlight through the woods, and a queer -companionship of rough kind-hearted people. Toinette, only seven years -old, laughed and skipped over the stones, holding Charlotte's gown, and -declaring she would never leave her. We had expected to find the -magistrate living in a better house than the others, but it was like its -neighbours--a little brown châlet by the side of a torrent. The Syndic -was already in bed, but Madame, his wife, speedily got him up, and we -held a parley with him on the wooden staircase, all the other people -standing below. He said that there were no workhouses, no orphan -asylums, and that though it was a bad case, the commune had no funds; -school did not open till October, and even if Toinette got work there -was no lodging for her at night. However, when Charlotte promised to -clothe her, he was so much enchanted with the "grandeur de sa charité," -that he said he would consult with the commune about Toinette. Meantime, -in the morning Charlotte bought her some clothes, and settled something -for her future; but before we left we saw that she must not be too much -indulged, as she asked Charlotte, who had given her a frock, shoes, and -hat, to give her also some bonbons and a parasol! - -We heard of Toinette Bernard for some years afterwards, and Charlotte -Leycester sent annual remittances for her; but eventually she absconded, -and utterly disappeared like a waif. - -On the 1st of August I left my companions at Chamounix to make the -circuit of Mont Blanc, but the weather was horrible, and most of the -time the mountain-tops were hidden in swirl and mists; the paths were -watercourses, and the châlets where I slept with my guide, Edouard -Carrier, were piercingly cold and miserable--especially that of Motets, -where there was nothing to eat but potatoes; no furniture whatever, -nothing but some rotten straw to lie upon; no glass and no shutter to -the window, through which an icy blast blew all night from the glacier, -though the air of the filthy room was quite dense with fleas. Travelling -in these parts is quite different now, but I have a most wretched -recollection of the long walks in the cold mist, no sound but the cry of -the marmots--yet one always had a wish to go on, not back. - -Delightful was the change as we descended upon Courmayeur, with its -valleys of chestnut-trees and its noble view of Mont Blanc, and Aosta -with its Roman ruins. In returning, I was overtaken by a tremendous -snowstorm at the top of the St. Bernard, and detained the whole of a -most tedious day in the company of the kind priests (monks they are not) -and their dogs. During this time sixty travellers arrived in turn and -took refuge. We all dined together, and saw the hospice and the Morgue, -which is a very awful sight: the snow has so perfectly embalmed the -bodies, that they retain all their features, though quite black; the -hair also remains. In one corner was a woman hugging her baby to her -breast as the death silence overtook her. We all went down through the -snow in a regular caravan, and I joined my mother at Villeneuve and went -with her to Clarens. - -Railways make travelling in Switzerland, as elsewhere, so easy now, that -it is difficult to realise how long and tedious the journey to Visp was -when I next left my mother to go to Zermatt. On my way I visited the old -mountain-perched cathedral of Sion, then one of the most entirely -beautiful and romantic churches in the world, now utterly destroyed by a -"restoration," from which one might have hoped its precipitous situation -would have preserved it. I walked in one day from Visp to Zermatt, and -thence made all the excursions, and always alone. The Gorner Grat is -much the finest view, all the others being only bits of the same. It is -a bleak rock, bare of vegetation, far from humanity. Thence you look -down, first by a great precipice upon a wilderness of glaciers, and -beyond, upon a still greater wilderness of mountains all covered with -snow. They tell you one is Monte Rosa, another the Weiss Horn, and so -on, but they all look very much alike, except the great awful -Matterhorn, tossing back the clouds from its twisted peak. It is a grand -view, but I could never care for it. The snow hides the forms of the -mountains altogether, and none of them especially strike you except the -Matterhorn. There is no beauty, as at Chamounix or Courmayeur: all is -awful, bleak desolation. In memory I fully echo the sentiment I find in -my journal--"I am very glad to have seen it, but, if I can help it, -nothing shall ever induce me to see it again." - -It was a long walk from the Riffel Berg to Visp (34 miles), whence I -proceeded to the Baths of Leuk, where the immense tanks, in which a -crowd of people, men, women, and children, lead an every-day life like -ducks, up to their chins in water, were a most ridiculous sight. -Sometimes you might find a sick and solitary old lady sitting alone in -the water on a bench in the corner, with her hands and feet stretched -out before her; but for the most part the patients were full of -activity, laughter, and conversation. They held _in_ the water the sort -of society which once characterised the pump-room at Bath: the old -people gossipped in groups, the young people flirted across their little -tables. Each person possessed a tiny floating table, on which he or she -placed handkerchief, gloves, flowers, smelling-bottle, newspaper, or -breakfast. In one of the tanks some nuns were devoutly responding to a -priest who was reciting the litany; but generally all the people were -mingled together during their eight hours of daily simmering--sallow -priests, fat young ladies, old men with grey beards, and young officers -with jaunty little velvet caps stuck on the back of their heads. -Generally they sate quite still, but sometimes there was a commotion as -a whole family migrated to the other side of the bath, pushing their -little tables before them; and sometimes introductions took place, and -there was a great bowing and curtseying. The advent of strangers was a -matter of great excitement, and you saw whole rows of heads in -different head-dresses all uniformly staring at the new-comer: but woe -betide him if he came upon the causeways between the tanks with his hat -on his head. I had been warned of this, however, by the _conducteur_ of -the omnibus. "Oh! qu'ils crient! qu'ils crient! qu'ils crient!" - -I left Leuk on the 18th of August to cross the Gemmi Pass, with a boy -carrying my knapsack. It was very early morning. The Gemmi is a grass -mountain with a perpendicular wall of rock overhanging it, up which the -narrow path winds like a corkscrew, without railing or parapet--at least -it had none then--and an appalling precipice below. On this path it is -most unnecessary to take a false step, but a false step must be fatal. -It was an exquisitely clear, beautiful morning, and high up on the -mountain-side a large party might be seen descending towards us. I did -not see them, but I believe the boy did. We had just reached the top of -the grassy hill and were at the foot of the precipice when there was a -prolonged shouting. The whole mountain seemed to have broken out into -screams, which were echoed from the hills on every side. I said, "Is it -a hunt?"--"Nein, nein," said the boy with great excitement, "es ist ein -Pferd--ein Pferd muss übergefallen sein." But then, in a moment, came -one long, bitter, appalling, agonising shriek, which could be uttered -for no fall of a horse--there was a sudden flash--not more--of -_something_ between the light and the precipice, and a crash amid the -stones and bushes beside us--and "Oh, ein Mensch--ein Mensch!" cried the -boy, as he sank fainting on the ground. - -Another moment, and a French gentleman rushed wildly past, his face -white as a sheet, his expression fixed in voiceless horror. I eagerly -asked what had happened (though I knew too well), but he rushed on as -before. And directly afterwards came a number of peasants--guides -probably. The two first looked bloodless, stricken aghast: it is the -only time I ever saw a person's hair stand on end, but then _I did_, -though they neither cried nor spoke. Then came one who sobbed, and -another who wrung his hands, but who only said as he passed, "Ein -Mensch--ein Mensch!" One of the peasants threw a cloak over the remains, -and two guides cried bitterly over it. Strange to say, the body was that -of a "garçon des bains" serving as a guide: he had jumped over a little -stone in his descent, had jumped a little too far, and fallen over. For -one awful moment he clung to the only fir-tree in the way--the moment -of the screams--then the tree gave way, and all was ended. - -I knew that if I did not go on at once the news would arrive at Thun -before me and terrify my mother; but it was terrible, with the -death-shriek ringing in one's ears, to follow the narrow unprotected -path, and to pass the place where trampled turf and the broken fir-tree -bore witness to the last struggle. An old German professor and his wife -had left Leuk before us, and had heard nothing of what had happened. -When I told them at the top of the mountain, they knelt on the grass, -and touchingly and solemnly returned thanks for their safety. Then I met -Theodora de Bunsen with Sir Fowell and Lady Buxton going down, and was -obliged to tell them also. Awfully in sympathy with our sensations is -the ghastly scenery at the top of the Gemmi--the black lake, which is -frozen all the year round, and the dismal, miserable inn beside it, -which is the scene of Werther's horrible tragedy, of which I have so -often since told the foundation-story. - -My Uncle Penrhyn paid us a visit at Thun, with his daughter Emmie and a -cousin, and I afterwards joined them at Lucerne, and was their guest in -a most happy excursion to Andermatt. Afterwards I went alone to -Engelberg, the village and great Benedictine convent in the green Alps -under the Tetlis mountains. Thence I made my way to Stanz, and -penetrated into the valleys connected with the strange story of the -Swiss pilgrim-saint, Nicholas von der Flue, ending in the great church -of Sachselen, which contained his hideous skeleton, with diamond eyes -and jewel-hung bones. Thence it was a very long walk over the Brunig -(there was then no carriage-road) to Meyringen, and thence, the same -day, over the Scheideck to Gründelwald; for my mother was expecting me -there, and if I did not appear by the promised day, she might have been -anxious; and in those days I was far too poor to have a mule: if I had -money enough to pay for some luncheon, my utmost ambition was fulfilled. - -In returning to England, we went to Freiburg in Breisgau, and visited -the Bunsens at Heidelberg, greatly delighting in their beautifully -situated villa of Charlottenberg, and the view of the castle and bridge -from their terrace, with its oleanders and pomegranates. Afterwards we -saw Meaux and its relics of Bossuet. - -[Illustration: ARCHDEACON HARE'S STUDY, HURSTMONCEAUX RECTORY.] - -Uncle Julius, whose health was rapidly declining, received my mother -with many tears on our return. I have a vivid recollection of that first -evening. My mother read "Bless the Lord, O my soul," at evening prayers, -and said she always read that after a journey, with "He healeth all thy -diseases"--so true of her. We went to Hastings for Uncle Julius's Charge -to the clergy, which produced much enthusiasm amongst them, very -different from his lengthy sermons in Hurstmonceaux, under which the -whole congregation used quietly to compose themselves to sleep, probably -well aware that they would not understand a word, if they tried to -attend. The effect was sometimes most ridiculous of the chancel filled -with nodding heads, or of heads which had long since done nodding, and -were resting on their elbows locked in fastest slumber. I believe Mrs. -Sherwood describes a similar scene in one of her stories. Aunt Esther -and the curate would try in vain to keep themselves awake with strong -lavender lozenges during Uncle Julius's endless discourses. And then -"There's Mrs. Hare asleep on one side of the Archdeacon and the curate -on the other," the people would say, and he would go droning on with a -sermon preached fifty times before. There were, however, days on which -Uncle Julius would emerge from the vestry with clenched hands and his -face full of pale enthusiasm, and then I would whisper to my mother: -"Look, Uncle Julius is going to do Lady Macbeth!" There were no slumbers -then, but rapt attention, as Uncle Julius in his most thrilling (and -they were _thrilling_) tones went through the whole of the sleep-walking -scene, wrung his hands over the pulpit-cushion, unable to wash out the -"accursed spot" of sin. This was generally about once a year. Though -Hurstmonceaux did not comprehend them, there are, however, many -fragments, especially similes, in Uncle Julius's ordinary parish sermons -which will always have an effect, especially that of grief at a -death--the heavy plunge when the person goes down, and the circles -vividly apparent at first, then gradually widening, till they are lost -and disappear altogether. And though they did not understand him, his -parishioners loved Uncle Julius, for he always acted up to his own -answer to a question as to the value of a living--"Heaven or hell, -according as the occupier does his duty." - -Uncle Julius had published a versified edition of the Psalms. He thought -his Psalter would be adopted by the whole Church, and it was never used -in a single church except Hurstmonceaux. During the service, he had the -oddest way of turning over the pages with his nose. "The sixteenth -morning of the month," he gave out one day. "No, 'tain't," called the -voice of Martin the clerk from below, "'tis the seventeenth." "Oh, the -seventeenth morning of the month." - -[Illustration: Julius Charles Hare - -From a portrait by G Richmond] - -There certainly was a curious absence of ritual in the services at -Hurstmonceaux. Yet one felt that Uncle Julius's whole heart was in the -way he read the prayers. What was wanting arose from his personal -characteristics, the same which made him always hopelessly unpunctual, -which caused him to waste his mornings in hopeless dawdling just when -there was most to be done, which so often sent him off for his afternoon -walk just as the dinner-bell rang. - -I was more than usually tried during the weeks spent at home this autumn -by the way in which Mrs. Alexander was set up on a pinnacle of worship -by Uncle Julius and Aunt Esther--everything and everybody, especially my -mother, being expected to give way to her. My journal, however, has many -touching reminiscences of quiet evenings in our home life at this -time--when I read aloud to my dearest mother, and she played and sang -"Comfort ye," I sitting on the little sofa by her side, the light from -the candles falling upon "the Reading Magdalen" over the pianoforte--and -of her simple, earnest prayers aloud by the little round table in her -own room that "the pleasures given us in this world might not draw us -out of the simple way of God." Especially touching to me is the -remembrance of our last evening together this summer, for it was then -almost first that she began to allow the part my life bore in hers. "O -God," she prayed, "be with us at our parting: and oh! prepare us to -meet when parting will be at an end." As I kissed her afterwards she -said, "You are a dear good child to me, darling. I may blame you -sometimes, and find fault with your opinions, but you are a dear, good, -dutiful child to me." - -As I was returning to Oxford I paid a visit to Hugh Pearson at Sonning. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Sonning, Oct. 21, 1854._--The thought that my mother is well now - and does not need me enables me to bear having only - paper-conversation again for a little while. But how I long to know - each hour of the day what my dear mother is doing, and wish that - she could see me--very happy here in this peaceful little spot. - - "H. P. was dressing when I arrived, but came to my room to welcome - me, most warmly, as he always does. There was a party at dinner, - but they left early, and I had a long talk afterwards with my host - over the fire. There is really no one I like so much. He gave an - amusing description of his church-restoration, very gradual, not to - shock people's prejudices. At last, when he put up a statuette of - the patron saint--St. Andrew--over the entrance, Bishop Wilberforce - came in high delight--'No other man in my diocese would have dared - to do such a thing.'[98] Bishop Blomfield rather admired his stone - pulpit, but said, 'I don't usually like a stone pulpit; I _usually_ - prefer a wooden one, something more suited to the preacher - inside.' - - "After breakfast we went out to pick up apples to feed H. P.'s pet - donkey with. What a pretty place Sonning is! The river winding - round, with old willows and a weir; the site of the palace of the - Bishop of Sarum marked by an old ash-tree; and the church--'all as - like naughty Rome as it dares,' says H. P., but very beautiful - within.... 'What a rate you do write at, child,' he says as he is - working tortoise-pace at his sermon by my side." - -My mother was never given to being alarmed about me at any time, but I -think she must have had some anxieties this autumn; Oxford was so -dreadfully unhealthy--suffering from a perfect "wave of cholera," while -typhus fever and small-pox were raging in the lower parts of the town. -But the excitement of Aunt Kitty and Arthur about Mary Stanley, who had -taken great part in preparing nurses for the victims of the Crimean War, -and who eventually went out to Scutari herself as the unwelcomed -assistant of Miss Nightingale, kept the family heart fixed in the East -all through the autumn and winter. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Oxford, Oct. 23, 1854._--There was a special cholera service last - night. It is very bad still, and the cases very rapid. Those taken - ill at five die at seven, and for fear of infection are buried at - seven the next morning." - - - "_Oct. 24._--Typhus fever has broken out in the lower town in - addition to everything else, and there are 1000 cases of small-pox, - besides cholera. This morning I met two men at breakfast at Mr. - Jowett's. There was nothing to eat but cold mutton and some heavy - bread called 'Balliol bricks,' but Mr. Jowett was in his best - humour, and though he would not utter a word himself, he assisted - us into uttering a good many. He is certainly at once the terror - and the admiration of those he wishes to be kind to: as for myself, - I love him, though I often feel I would go round three streets any - day to avoid him." - - - "_Nov. 1._--The usual Oxford rain is now varied by a yellow fog and - stifling closeness, the consequence of which is that cholera has - returned in all its force to the lower town, and in the upper - almost every one is ill in one way or other. Duckworth and I walked - to Headington Common yesterday, and thinking that such a high open - place was sure to be free from illness, asked if there had been any - cholera there, in a cottage where we often go to buy fossils. - 'Yes,' said the young woman of the house, 'father died of it, and - baby, and seven other people in this cottage and those joining--all - those who seemed the healthiest and strongest. I saw them all - seized with it in the morning, and before night they were all - gone.'--'What,' I said, 'did you nurse them all?' The young woman - turned away, but an old woman who came up and heard me said, 'Yes, - she _were_ a good creature. There were no one took but she went to - them. She were afeard of nothing. I used to think as God wouldna' - let the cholera come to her because she werena' afeard, and no - more He did.'" - - - "_Dec. 2._--Mrs. Parker[99] has just been telling me the beautiful - story of 'Sister Marion's' labours in the cholera. Her real name - was Miss Hughes. Mrs. P. was walking with her one day, when their - notice was attracted by Greenford, the landlord of the Maidenhead - inn, putting his beautiful little child on his great horse, while - the child was laughing and shouting for joy. Next day they heard - that the child was ill. Sister Marion went at once and nursed it - till it died, and it was buried the same evening. Then came the - rush of cholera. When any one was seized, they sent for Sister - Marion--she rubbed them, watched them, prayed with them; no cases - were too dreadful for her. She often had to put them in their - coffins herself. When all were panic-stricken, she remembered - everything. Mrs. Parker described one deathbed, where it required - two men to hold a woman down in her agonies, and her shrieks and - oaths were appalling. Little Miss Hughes came in, and taking both - her hands, knelt down quietly by the side of the bed, and, though - the doctors and others were standing round, began to pray aloud. - Gradually the face of the woman relaxed, and her oaths ceased, - though her groans were still fearful. At last Sister Marion said, - 'Now your mind is easier, so you have more strength, and we can try - to help your body;' and when she began the rubbings, &c., the - woman took it quietly, and though she died that night, it was quite - peacefully. - - "Then the cholera camp was made. There was one house for the - malignant cases, another for the convalescents, a third for the - children of those taken or for those in whom there was reason to - expect the disease to appear. Almost every nurse had to be - dismissed for drunkenness; the people were almost alone, and the - whole town seemed to depend on Sister Marion. Nine-tenths of those - who took the cholera died. Mrs. P. took it herself, and was saved - by constantly swallowing ice. - - "I have just been to dine with the Master--a large party of - undergraduates and very dull, the Master every now and then giving - utterance to a solemn little proposition apropos of nothing at - all--such as 'A beech-tree is a very remarkable tree, Mr. - Hare'--'It is a very pleasant thing to ride in a fly, Mr. - Bowden'--which no one attempted to contradict." - - - "_Dec. 11._--Yesterday I went to the service at St. Thomas's, where - three-fourths of the congregation were in mourning owing to the - cholera. The sermon began with three strange propositions--1. That - the reading of the Scriptures is not necessary to salvation. 2. - That the Gospel consists not in the written Word, but in certain - facts laid down and elucidated by the Church. 3. That the - Scriptures ought not to be used as a means of converting the - heathen. I suppose the sermon was directed against the Bible - Society." - -I insert a few paragraphs from my written winter-journal. They scarcely -give an idea of the stagnation of our Hurstmonceaux life. - - "_Dec. 14._--A solemn tea-drinking of parish ladies at the Rectory. - My mother very ailing with trembling, and almost deaf." - - - "_Dec. 15._--A bitter drive to Hailsham through the bleak ugly - lanes. Mother very poorly, and unable to show interest in or - comprehension of anything. Entirely thrown on my own resources." - - - "_Dec. 16._--Intense cold and misery at church. Ill with this, and - felt the great usual Sunday want of anything to do, as I did not - like even to open any book which might offend mother; but at last, - finding 'Arnold's Life' would not be taken ill, settled to that. - Mother not able to speak or hear; felt the great solitariness of - loneliness _not alone_, and longed to have some friend who would - enter into my odd little trials--surely singular at twenty--but I - never have one." - - - "_Dec. 17._--Bitter cold and a great gale. Siberia can scarcely be - colder than Hurstmonceaux. Went by mother's wish to collect - 'Missionary Pence' from the poor. No words can say how I hate this - begging system, especially from the poor, who loathe it, but do not - dare to refuse when 'the lady sends for their penny.' Sate a long - time with Widow Hunnisett, and wondered how I shall ever endure it - when I am in Orders, and have to sit daily in the cottages boring - the people and myself." - -At the end of December, partly probably in consequence of the cold to -which I was constantly exposed, I became very ill with an agonising -internal abscess, and though this eventually gave way to application of -foxglove leaves (digitalis), just when a severe surgical operation was -intended, I was long in entirely recovering. My mother's feeble powers, -however, soon urged me to rouse myself, and, as soon as I could bring it -about, to remove her to London, as Uncle Julius was failing daily, and I -knew even then by experience how easily an invalid can bear a great -sorrow which is unseen, while a great sorrow witnessed in all its -harrowing incidents and details is often fatal to them. - - JOURNAL. - - - "_Jan. 1, 1855._--With mother to the Rectory this afternoon, - wrapped up in the carriage. I went to Uncle Julius in his room. He - does seem now most really ill: I have never seen him more so. He - bemoaned his never being able to do anything now. Looking at his - mother's picture[100] hanging opposite, he said what a treasure it - was to him. His face quite lighted up when he saw my mother, but - (naturally perhaps) he had not the slightest pleasure in seeing me, - and his tone instantly altered as he turned to me from wishing her - good-bye." - - - "_Jan. 2._--Mother and I walked towards the school, but clouds - gathering over the downs and level warned us home again. In the - afternoon I was too ill to go out in the damp, but the crimson - sunset cast beautiful gleams of light into the room, and mother - went out to enjoy it in the garden." - - - "_Jan. 3._--We accomplished a visit to the new school-mistress in - the midst of her duties. A bright sunny spring morning, every - little leaf looking up in gladness, and just that soft sighing - breeze in the garden, with a freshness of newly-watered earth and - dewy flowers, which is always associated with Lime in my mind. How - beautiful--how peaceful--is our little home! Circumstances often - prevent my enjoying it now, but if I left it, with what an - intensity of longing love should I look back upon days spent here. - In the afternoon I was very impatient of incessant small - contradictions, and in the evening felt as if I had not been quite - as loving or devoted to my mother as I might have been for the last - few days--not throwing myself sufficiently into every little - trivial interest of hers. Yet this I wish to do with all my heart; - and as for her wishes, they ought to be not only fulfilled, but - anticipated by me.... What I was reading in 'North and South' - perhaps made me more sensitive, and caused me to watch my mother - more intently this evening, and it struck me for the first time - that she suffered when her cheek was so flushed and her eyes shut, - and her hand moved nervously upwards. Perhaps it was only some - painful thought, but it has often made me turn from my book to - watch her anxiously when she was not looking." - - - "_Jan. 4._--We drove along the Ninfield road, fresh and open, with - the wind whistling through the oaktrees on the height, and then - went to the Rectory. Mother went to Uncle Julius first, and then - wished me to go. It was very difficult to find anything to say, for - his illness had made him even more impatient than usual, at any - word of mine, whatever it might be about." - -When we went to the Stanleys' empty house in Grosvenor Crescent, we left -Uncle Julius very feeble and ill at Hurstmonceaux. As soon as we reached -London, my mother was attacked by severe bronchitis, and with this came -one of her alarming phases of seeing endless processions passing before -her, and addressing the individuals. Sometimes in the morning she was -more worn than in the evening, having been what she called "maintaining -conversation" all night long. In the hurry of after years, I have often -looked back with surprise upon the stagnant _lull_ of life in these -winters, in which I scarcely ever left my mother, and, beyond chafing -her limbs, reading to her, preparing remedies for all phases of her -strange malady, scarcely _did_ anything; yet always felt _numb_ with -fatigue when evening came, from the constant tension of an undivided -anxiety. It was very severe weather, and if I was ever able to go out, -it was for a rush up Piccadilly and Regent Street, where I always -enjoyed even the sight of human movement amongst the shivering bluenosed -people after the intensity of my solitude; for of visitors we had none -except Lady Frances Higginson and her daughter Adelaide,[101] who came -every morning to see my mother. At this time Henry Alford, afterwards -Dean of Canterbury, was preaching at Quebec Chapel, and I used to go to -hear him on Sundays. - -JOURNAL. - - "_6 Grosvenor Crescent, Jan. 21._--The mother had fever again in - the night, and told Lea in the morning that she had been in the - Revelations, and she seemed indeed to have seen all that is there - described. She has talked much since of the Holy City and the - golden palace as of something she had looked upon. 'What a comfort - it is,' she said, 'that my visions do not take me to Hurstmonceaux: - I do not know how I could bear that.' It is indeed a comfort. She - seems always only to see things most beautiful, and more of heaven - than of earth. - - "'After you left me last night,' she said, 'I heard on one side of - my bed the most beautiful music. Oh, it was most beautiful! most - grand!--a sort of military march it seemed--ebbing and rising and - then dying softly and gently away. Then, on the other side of my - bed, I saw an open cloister, and presently I saw that it was lined - with charity-school children. By-and-by Charlotte came out amongst - them. Now, I thought, I can see, by watching her, whether this is a - picture or whether it is a reality: but, as my eyes followed her, - she took out her handkerchief and did everything so exactly as - Charlotte really does, that I felt sure it was a reality.' - - "This morning, as I have been sitting by my mother, I have - listened. As she lay dozing, she spoke in pauses--'I see the - sea--It is a very misty morning, a _very_ misty morning--There is a - white boat tossing in the distance--It is getting black, it is so - very misty--There is something coming--It is a great ship--They - have put up a sail--It is very misty--Now I can scarcely see - anything--Now it is all black.'" - - "_Jan. 23, 1855._--Before I was up, John came and said he thought - there was a worse account from Hurstmonceaux. Soon Lea came, and I - asked eagerly what it was. 'It is over. He is gone. The Archdeacon - is dead!' One had always fancied one expected this, but the reality - is a different thing--that he who had always in one way or another - influenced daily thoughts and occupations had utterly passed out of - one's life--would never influence it again. - - "My mother was very calm. She had taken it quite quietly and laid - down again to rest. When I went down, she cried, and also when - Charlotte came, but she was calm beyond our hopes. It was a long - painful day, in which it seemed almost sacrilegious to go about the - ordinary work of life. Personally, however, I have only the regret - for Uncle Julius which one feels for a familiar and honoured figure - passing out of life. It is only 'a grief without a pang.'"[102] - - "_Jan. 29._--We reached home by midday. Mrs. Alexander came in the - afternoon, and described his last words as 'Upwards--upwards.' In - the evening Arthur Stanley and George Bunsen arrived." - - "_Jan. 30._--I went to the Rectory with Arthur at eleven.... In the - midst of the library, amongst Uncle Julius's own books and papers, - all that was mortal of him was once more present. It lay in a black - coffin inscribed--'Julius Charles Hare. Born at Bologna. Died at - Hurstmonceaux.' But his spirit?--how I wondered if it was present - and saw us as we stood there. - - "Through the open door of the drawing-room I saw all the bearers - come in, in their white smock-frocks and crape bands, and go out - again, carrying him for the last time over his own threshold. On, - on they passed, into the snowy drive, with the full sunshine - falling upon the pall, while the wind caught its white edges and - waved them to and fro. Then some one called us, and I followed with - Uncle Gustavus Hare immediately behind the coffin, six clergy who - had been especially valued by Uncle Julius carrying the pall, and - Arthur Stanley, Orby Shipley,[103] the Bishop of St. David's, and - a number of other friends following, and then a long - procession--clergy, schools, parishioners. - - "On, down the shrubbery, with the snow still glittering on the - evergreen leaves, to the gate, where many more people fell into the - ranks behind. The wind was shrill and piercing, and, fresh from a - sick-room, I felt numbed with the cold and fatigue. At Gardner - Street all the shutters were shut, and the inmates of every house - stood at their doors ready to join the procession. Amongst those - waiting in front of the blacksmith's was old Edward Burchett. - Strange to think that he should have known my great-grandfather, - and lived in Hurstmonceaux Castle (where he was 'clock-winder') in - its palmy days, and that he should be living still to see the last - Hare 'of Hurstmonceaux' carried to his grave. - - "More crowds of people joined from Windmill Hill and Lime Cross; it - was as if by simultaneous movement the whole parish came forward to - do honour to one who had certainly been as its father for - twenty-two years. As the procession halted to change bearers at the - bend of the road, I knew that my mother was looking out and could - see it from her window. An immense body of clergy joined us at - Hurstmonceaux Place, and many very old and familiar people--old - Judith Coleman led by a little girl, old Pinnock on his crutches, - and others. At the foot of the church hill three black-veiled - figures--Aunt Esther and her sisters--were waiting. - - "The effect was beautiful of passing through the churchyard with a - pure covering of untrodden snow into the church lighted by full - sunshine, and looking back and seeing the hill and the winding - road filled with people as far as the eye could reach. - - "The coffin was laid before the altar; the clergy and people - thronged the church. I seemed to hear nothing but the voice of - Arthur Stanley repeating the responses at my side. - -[Illustration: HURSTMONCEAUX CHURCH.] - - "Then we went out to the grave. There, around the foot of the - yew-tree, by the cross over the grave of Uncle Marcus, were grouped - all the oldest people in the parish. Mr. Simpkinson read, the - clergy standing around the open grave responded; and, as with one - voice, all repeated the Lord's Prayer, which, broken as it was by - sobs, had a peculiar solemnity, the words 'Thy will be done' - bringing their own especial significance to many hearts." - -The weeks which succeeded my uncle's funeral were occupied by hard work -at the Rectory for his widow, chiefly making a catalogue of the fourteen -thousand volumes in the library, which she gave for the most part to -Trinity College. Uncle Julius had intended them as a provision for her, -to whom he had very little money to bequeath; but she chose thus to -dispose of them, and it was useless to contend with her. In the same way -she decided upon giving away all the familiar pictures and sculptures, -the former to the Fitzwilliam Museum at Cambridge. My mother felt -parting as I did with all these beautiful inanimate witnesses of our -past lives--the first works of art I had known, the only ones which I -then knew intimately. They have not been much valued at Cambridge, where -the authorship of most of the pictures has been questioned; but whoever -they were by, to us, who lived with them so much, they were always -delightful. - - JOURNAL. - - - "_Feb. 14, 1855._--Mother and I were standing on the steps of the - Rectory greenhouse when the carriage came to take me away (to - return to Oxford). I shall always remember that last moment. The - warm air fragrant with the flowers: the orange-trees laden with - golden fruit: the long last look at the Roman senator and his wife - sitting in their niche: at the Raffaelle, the Luini, the - Giorgione--and then the place which had been the occasional - interest and the constant misery of my childhood existed for me no - longer." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER (from Oxford). - - "_March 13._--Your letter was the first thing to greet the opening - of my twenty-first year. Being of age is a great thing, I am told, - but really it makes no difference to me. Only I hope that each year - will help me to be more of a comfort and companion to you, and then - there will be some good in growing old. In the evening my birthday - was celebrated here by a 'wine,' at which there was a good deal of - squabbling as to who should propose my health--the senior - collegian, the senior scholar, or an old Harrovian; but it ended in - the whole company doing it together, with great cheering and - hurrahing, and then Coleridge proposed that they should give 'He's - a jolly good fellow,' with musical honours--and a fine uproar there - was. I had a number of charming presents from college - friends--books, prints, and old china." - -I was so anxious about my next public examination--"Moderations"--that, -as my mother seemed then tolerably well, I had begged to be allowed to -pass most of the Easter vacation in Oxford, studying uninterruptedly in -the empty college. This examination was always the most alarming of all -to me, as I had been so ill-grounded, owing to Mr. R.'s neglect, and -grammar was the great requirement. Indeed, at more than double the age I -was then, the tension and anxiety I was in often repeated itself to me -in sleep, and I woke in an agony thinking that "Moderations" were coming -on, and that I was not a bit prepared! One day, in the midst of our -work, I went in a canoe down Godstowe river, accompanied by a friend -(who had also "stayed up") in another canoe, as far as the ruin, and we -dined at the little inn. The spring sun was peculiarly hot, and I -remember feeling much oppressed with the smell of the weeds in the -river, being very unwell at the inn, and reaching college with -difficulty. Next day I was too ill to leave my bed, and when the doctor -came he said I had the measles, which soon developed themselves (for the -second time) with all violence. I was so ill, and so covered with -measles, that the doctor said--the ground being deep in snow--that it -was as much as my life was worth to get up or risk any exposure to cold. -Ten minutes afterwards a telegram from Lime was given to me. It came -from Mrs. Stanley (evidently already summoned), and bade me come -directly--my mother was seriously ill. - -My decision was made at once. If I exposed myself to the cold, I should -_perhaps_ die; but if I stayed still in the agony of anxiety I was in, I -should _certainly_ die. I sent for a friend, who helped me to dress and -pack, summoned a fly and gave double fare to catch the next train. It -was a dreadful journey. I remember how faint I was, but that I always -sate bolt upright and determined not to give in. - -I recollected that my mother had once said that if she were very ill, -her cousin Charlotte Leycester must not be prevented coming to her. So -as I passed through London I called for her, and we went on together. It -was intensely cold, and my measles were all driven in; they never came -out again--there was not time. There was too much to think of; I could -not attend to myself, however ill I felt. I could only feel that my -precious mother was in danger. John met me at the door of Lime--"You are -still in time." Then Aunt Kitty and Lea came down, Lea very much -overcome at seeing me--"I can bear anything now you are here." - -My mother lay in still, deep stupor. She had not been well during the -last days which Aunt Esther spent at the Rectory, feeling too acutely -for her. When Aunt Esther left the Rectory finally and moved to Lime -with Mrs. Alexander, my mother was ready to welcome them. But it was a -last effort. An hour after they arrived she collapsed. From that time -she had lain rigid for sixty hours: she seemed only to have an inner -consciousness, all outward sense was gone. We knew afterwards that she -would have spoken if she could--she would have screamed if she could, -but she could not. Still Dr. Hale said, "Whilst that inner consciousness -appears to last there is hope." - -When I went to her, she lay quite still. Her face was drawn and much -altered. There was no speculation in her eyes, which were glassy and -fixed like stone. One cheek alone was flushed and red as vermilion. I -went up. She did not notice me. There was no gleam, no significance, no -movement, but when they asked if she knew I was come, she articulated -"Yes." - -I could not sleep at night and listened through the dressing-room wall. -Suddenly I heard her cry out, and John Gidman stood by my bedside -sobbing violently--"You must be told she is worse." I went into the -room. She was in violent delirium. Aunt Kitty was trying to calm her -with texts of Scripture; Lea was kneeling in her dressing-gown at the -foot of the bed. I was determined she should not die. I felt as if I -were wrestling for her life. I _could_ not have spared her then. But God -had mercy upon my agony. She became calmer. Suddenly, in the morning, as -I was sitting by her, she said, "Augustus, fetch me a piece of bread." I -did. She ate it. From that time gradually--very gradually--she dawned -back into life from her sixty hours' trance, whilst I was watching over -her every minute. Four days afterwards came Easter Eve. When I went in -that morning, she was quite herself. "What a beautiful quiet morning," -she said; "it is just such a day as Easter Eve ought to be. To me this -is the most solemn day of all the year, for on it my Saviour was neither -on earth nor in heaven, at least in his bodily form.... I am so glad -that I learnt Wesley's hymn ("All blessing, glory, honour, praise") -before I was ill: I can say it now." I see in my journal that on that -afternoon of my darling mother's restoration I walked to the Rectory, -and the garden was bright and smiling as ever, in the oak-walks it -seemed as if the shadow of him who paced it so often must sometimes be -walking still. There was no furniture left in the house except -bookcases, and I was astonished then to realise for the first time how -bare walls cannot speak to one; it is the objects which they have -enclosed that have the human interest. - - JOURNAL. - - - "_April 8, 1855._--The mother has greeted me with 'A blessed Easter - to you, darling--Christ is risen.' Last night tears came into her - eyes as she remembered that Uncle Julius would never say those - words to her again, but to-day she is bright and smiling, and the - sunshine outside seems reflected from her. The others have been to - church, so I have been alone most of the day in her sick-room." - - - "_April 9._--In my mother's room most of the day. My Oxford work is - sadly hindered; but that is not my first duty." - - - "_April 14._--The dear mother came downstairs for the first time - since her illness, and was delighted with the flowers--the heaths - and cinerarias in the window recesses, and the masses of violets in - the garden. There was much to be told that was new to her, of all - that had happened since she went upstairs, but which had to be told - very cautiously, for fear of over-excitement. Arthur Stanley, who - has been here some days, examined me in my work, and in the - afternoon we had a delightful walk through the woods to the - farmhouse of the Hole." - -[Illustration: LIME, FROM THE GARDEN.] - - "_April 15._--Arthur preached in the church on the spies bringing - back to the Israelites the fruits of the promised land--going on to - describe how the fruits of _our_ promised land were given us in the - lives of those who were gone before--that these were the fruits of - the Spirit spoken of in three verses of the Bible--verses better - known perhaps and more loved than any others by the people of - Hurstmonceaux. The first was written on the distant grave of one - whom many of them had never seen, but whom all of them had heard - of--Augustus, whose fruit was 'gentleness, and meekness, and long - suffering.' The second was the verse inscribed on the older of the - crosses under their own yew-tree: 'righteousness and truth' were - the especial points which Marcus bore. The third was written on the - latest and most loved cross: it told of 'wisdom'--that was Julius's - fruit." - - - "_April 16._--I left my darling mother to return to my work at - Oxford. I remained with her till John tapped at the door to say the - carriage was there. 'God bless you, my own darling--God bless you, - dearest'--and I was gone, leaving my sweetest one looking after me - with a smile upon her face. Oh, what a blessing it has been to - leave her thus! How different this leaving Lime might have been, - with no sense of home remaining, except in the shadow of the - yew-tree and by the crosses in the churchyard!" - -I might write of my mother as Chalmers of the Duchesse de Broglie: "Her -prayers poured forth in her domestic circle, falling upon my ears like -the music of Paradise, leave their fragrance behind them, and sweet is -their remembrance." - -On my way back to Oxford, I first saw the beautiful Empress Eugenie on -her passage through London to Windsor with the Emperor Napoleon III. -They had a most enthusiastic reception, the streets were thronged -everywhere, and it was a very fine sight. Almost immediately after -reaching college I was "in the Schools" for "Moderations," but did very -well, as I had employed every available moment in preparing myself. -Nevertheless, I was too anxious to go to fetch my own _testamur_, and -vividly recall the feeling of ecstasy with which, from my high oriel -window, I saw my friend Milligan come waving it round the corner of the -High Street. A delightful feature of this term, which I always remember -with pleasure, was an excursion by rail to Evesham and its abbey, just -when the apple-orchards, with which the whole vale is filled, were in -bloom like a great garden. As summer approached, we were frequently on -the river. George Sheffield generally "punted" me, and Milligan floated -alongside in a canoe. Another expedition of very great interest to me -was that to Chalfont St. Giles in Buckinghamshire, where I saw the -Vatche, the home of my great-great-grandfather, Bishop Hare, who married -its heiress, a very attractive and charming place, which was sold by my -great-grandfather. The "Hare Mausoleum," a hideous brick building, was -then standing, attached to the church, and there Bishop Hare and many of -his descendants were buried, the last funeral having been that (in 1820) -of Anna-Maria Bulkeley, daughter of my grandfather's sister. The minute -descriptions, with which I was familiar, in the letters of Bishop Hare -and his widow, gave quite a historic charm to the scenes at -Chalfont--the window where Mary Hare sate "in her great house, much too -big and good for her, with as few servants as she could make shift -with," and watched her "deare lord carried to church"--the steep lane -down which the stately procession, in which "there were no bishops for -pall-bearers because it was too cold for them to come into the country," -passed with such difficulty--the manor pew, where Mary Margaret Hare -complained over "Laurentia and all the troublesome little children"--the -almshouses, built and endowed by the Robert Hare who married Miss -Selman. - -The installation of Lord Derby as Chancellor and the reception of -Disraeli (then still a dandy in ringlets, velvet waistcoat, and -prominent gold chains) made the "Commemoration" of this year especially -exciting; though my pleasure in it was damped by the sudden news of the -failure of Sir John Paul's[104] bank in the Strand, and fear for its -effect upon my "real mother" and sister, who lost about two thousand a -year by this catastrophe, though it was not this cause which involved -them in the irretrievable ruin that afterwards befell them. - -The longer I lived at Oxford, the more I learnt how little I could -believe anything I heard there. Connected with a college of which many -of the members belonged to the _lower_ upper classes of society, I had -peculiar opportunities for observing how often young men thought it -worth while to pretend to a position and acquaintances which did not -belong to them. One instance of this is too extraordinary to be omitted. -From the very beginning of February, certain men in Hall (the great -place for gossip and scandal) had spoken constantly of a certain Mrs. -Fortescue, who had come to reside in Oxford, an exceedingly clever -person and very highly connected. The subject did not interest me in the -least, but still I heard of her so often, that I could not help being -familiar with her name. Gradually her acquaintance seem to extend; men -said, "I don't _exactly_ know Mrs. Fortescue, but my family do"--or "my -friend so and so means to introduce me," and so on. Mrs. Fortescue's -witty sayings also were frequently repeated and commented upon. After -some months it was said that Mrs. Fortescue was going to give a ball, -for which there was anxiety to procure invitations--some men "had them, -but did not mean to go,"--others were "sure to have them." As I did not -wish to go, the subject was of very slight importance to me. - -Within a week of the alleged date of Mrs. Fortescue's ball, my friend P. -came late at night to see me. He said, "I have a dreadful thing to tell -you. I have a secret to reveal at which you will be aghast.... _I am -Mrs. Fortescue!_" Early in the year, observing how apt men were to -assume intimacies which they did not possess, he and one or two other -friends had agreed to talk incessantly of one person, a wholly imaginary -person, and, while "making her the fashion," see if, very soon, a number -of men would not pretend to be intimate with her. Dozens fell into the -trap. In a certain class of men, every one was afraid of being behind -his neighbour in boasting of an intimacy, &c., with one who was praised -so highly. They even pretended to have received invitations to the -imaginary ball. But the trick had assumed much greater dimensions than -ever was intended at first; many people had been duped whose fury at -the discovery would be a serious matter; many Oxford ladies had been -asked to the ball, and, in fact, there was nothing to be done _now_ but -to go through with the whole drama to the end--the ball must take place! -P. was quite prepared for the emergency of having to represent Mrs. -Fortescue, but positively refused to go through it alone. His object was -to implore me to help him out by appearing in some assumed character. -This I for a long time refused, but at length assented to get up all the -statistics of the neighbouring great house of Nuneham, and to arrive as -Miss Harcourt, an imaginary niece of Lady Waldegrave, just come from -thence. I was well acquainted with the best Oxford dressmaker, with whom -one of my friends lodged, and she undertook to make my dress; while -various styles of hair were tried by another person, who undertook that -department, to see which produced the most complete disguise. - -When the evening of the ball arrived, I took care to reach "Wyatt's -Rooms" very early. Only a number of men and a very few ladies were -there, when "Miss Harcourt--Miss Amy Leighton" were shouted up the -staircase, and I sailed up (with another undergraduate, who represented -my somewhat elderly companion) in a white tulle dress trimmed with a -little gold lace and looped up with blue cornflowers, a wreath (wreaths -were worn then) of the same, and a blue opera-cloak. Mrs. Fortescue, an -elderly handsome woman, quite on the _retour_, dressed in crimson satin, -came forward to meet me and kissed me on both cheeks, and I was -introduced to a lady--a _real_ lady--by whom I sate down. It is -impossible to detail all the absurdities of the situation, all the -awkward positions we were thrown into (Mrs. Fortescue had engaged her -servants, being then in morning toilette, days before). Suffice it to -say that the guests assembled, and the ball and the supper afterwards -went off perfectly, and gave boundless satisfaction. I only refused to -dance, pretending to have sprained my ankle in coming down in the train -some days before; but I limped round the room on the arm of my own -doctor (who never discovered me) between the dances, and examined the -pictures on the walls. Mrs. Fortescue was inimitable. The trick was -never discovered at the time, and would still be a secret, but that a -friend, to whom I had revealed the story on promise of _strict secrecy_, -repeated it long afterwards to P.'s elder brother. In June my mother -visited me at Oxford, on her way to West Malvern, where we had -delightful rooms overlooking the Herefordshire plains, in the house of -"Phœbe Gale," who had long been a valued servant in the family. We -much enjoyed delightful drives with the Leycesters in the neighbourhood; -also frequently we went to see the Miss Ragsters, two remnants of one of -the oldest families in Worcestershire, who, in a great age, were living, -very poor, in a primitive farmhouse, with their one servant Betty--"the -girl" they always called her, who still wore a pinafore, though she had -been in their service forty-seven years. Their life had never varied: -they had never seen a railway, and had never even been to Little -Malvern. They gave a curious account of the poet Wordsworth coming to -luncheon with them. - -From Malvern I went to the Wye with Willie Milligan. "Never," as I wrote -to my mother, "was there a companion so delightful, so amusing, so -charming and good-natured under all circumstances--and his circumstances -were certainly none of the most brilliant, as he lost all his luggage at -the outset, and had to perform the whole journey with nothing of his own -but a comb and a tooth-brush." Wherever we went, he made friends, -retailing all the local information gained from one person to the next -he met, in the most entertaining way. Especially do I remember one -occasion at Chepstow. I was drawing the castle, surrounded by about a -hundred little children, and he made himself so charming to them, and -was so indescribably entertaining, that one after the other of the -little things succumbed, till at last the whole party were rolling on -the ground in fits of uncontrollable laughter. On this visit to Chepstow -I remember the touching incident of our walking in the churchyard late -at night, and seeing a woman bring a number of glow-worms to put upon -her child's grave, that she might still see it from the window of her -cottage. We saw Tintern, Raglan, Goodrich (the great collection of -"Meyrick's Ancient Armour" was there then), and Ross, with its old -market-house, still standing, owing to the recent defence of the -market-women, who had positively refused to enter a new one which had -been built for them. A shorter expedition from Malvern was one which I -made with Emma Leycester to Worcester, which resulted in a story I -published in a magazine years afterwards--"The Shadows of Old -Worcester." In one of the passages of the china manufactory we saw a -figure of "Tragedy"--a magnificently handsome woman with a wreath of -laurel on her head. Was it Mrs. Siddons? "No," said the guide, "it was -modelled from a poor girl who used to work here, and who was murdered by -her lover _last night_." - -From Malvern we drove through the rose-fringed lanes by Ledbury to -Hereford, and then went to stay at Tickwood, in Shropshire, with my -uncle's old friend Mr. Hull, and Mrs. Butler, my mother's early -instructress, who lived there to take care of his only child by his -second wife (Miss Rowe)--Rowna--whose great wealth was her only fault in -her father's eyes. Afterwards we went to meet our old friends, the -Tayleurs of Buntingsdale, at the quaint old Raven Inn at Shrewsbury, and -thence proceeded to Llangollen and Valle Crucis. Plas Newydd, the house -of "the ladies of Llangollen,"[105] was still in existence--a very -ridiculous little place; and "the ladies" had had successors, Miss -Andrews and Miss Lolly!--of whom Miss Lolly still survived. A beautiful -varied drive by Corwen and Bettwys y Coed took us to the Penrhyn Arms -at Capel Curig, where my mother had often been in her childhood, and -where, at the bottom of the garden, is the noble view of Snowdon across -lake and moorland, so well known from pictures innumerable. From -Llanberis I ascended Snowdon, which in my recollection is--from its -innate picturesqueness, not its views--the only mountain in Europe worth -ascending, except Soracte. Afterwards we went to the William -Stanleys[106] at Penrhôs in Anglesea, and it was a very pleasant visit, -as Mrs. William Stanley was a most kind and amusing person, good-natured -to young people, and exceedingly pleased with my delight over all she -showed me, especially over the rocks--so glorious in colour--near the -South Stack lighthouse. It recalls oddly the extreme poverty as to -pocket-money in which I spent my youth, when I remember that the sum of -£2 which my Aunt Lucy gave me at Penrhôs was at twenty-one the largest -present in money that I had ever yet received in my life. I spent it in -the purchase of Lord Lindsay's "Christian Art." - -After visiting Penrhyn Castle, we went to take lodgings near the Albert -Ways at Conway, of which I recollect nothing remarkable except the -exemplification of "cast not your pearls before swine" in the frantic -eagerness the pigs at Towen showed to get at the mussels from which the -tiny pearls found there (and sold at two shillings an ounce) were being -extracted by the pearl-fishers. Our next visit was to Bodelwyddelan, the -fine place of Sir John and Lady Sarah Williams. We went afterwards to -Alton Towers, Ham in Dovedale, Matlock, and Rowsley--whence I saw -Chatsworth and spent several days in drawing the old courts of Haddon -Hall. - -All through the past winter the Crimean War had been an absorbing -interest, people had sobbed in the churches when the prayer for time of -war was read, and even those not immediately concerned had waited in -agonised expectation for the news from the Alma, Inkermann, the Redan. -While we were at Lichfield came the news of the capture of Sebastopol, -announced by the bells of the cathedral, followed by all the churches, -and every town and village became gay with flags from every window. - -In returning home this year, I felt even more anxious than before to -improve and educate myself, and always got up for the purpose as early -as I could, recollecting how Chevalier Bunsen, by always getting up four -hours before other people, made his year into sixteen months instead of -twelve. Beginning to think of colour in sketching now tended to make me -even more observant than I had been of the wonderfully artistic elements -of the scenery around our home--the long lines of the levels with their -fleeting shadows, the delicate softness of the distant downs, the trees -embossed in their dark green against the burnt-up grass of the old -deer-park. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Sept. 24, 1855._--We have had a visit from Miss Rosam, the last - of the old Sussex family who once lived at Lime. She said when she - was here as a little child the old convent was still standing. She - remembered the deep massive Saxon (?) archway at the entrance and - the large dark hall into which it led. - - "'Were there any stories about the place?' I asked. - - "'Nothing but about the fish; of course you know that?' - - "'No, I don't; do tell me.' - - "'Well, I don't say that it's true, but certainly it is very - generally believed that the whole of the great fish-ponds were once - entirely filled with gold and silver fish, and the night my - grandfather died all the fish died too. And then perhaps you do not - know about the horse. My grandfather had a very beautiful horse, - which he was very fond of, and though it was so old and infirm that - it could scarcely drag its legs along, he would not have it made an - end of, and it still remained in the field. But the night my - grandfather died, a man saw the horse suddenly spring up and race - at full gallop over the field, and at the moment my grandfather - died the horse fell down and died too.' - - "Just now we have a full moon, and the reflections in the pond are - so clear that you can see the fish dance in the moonbeams. The - mother says, 'It is difficult to realise that this same moon, ever - serene and peaceful, is looking down upon all the troubles and - quarrels of the earth.'" - - - "_Sept. 29._--We came in the morning to Eastbourne, which is much - altered and enlarged, only a few of the old familiar features left - as landmarks--Sergeant Bruce's house, No. 13--O _how_ I suffered - there!--Miss Holland's, outside which I used to wait in my agonies - of grief and rage--the beach where as a little child I played at - building houses." - - - "_Oct. 4._--In spite of threatening clouds, we drove to Wilmington, - whence I walked with Mr. Cooper to Alfriston, a most wild - out-of-the-way place, just suited for the beautiful 'effects' of - Copley Fielding. The cruciform church, with its battered shingled - spire, stands on a little hill, and, with a few wind-stricken - trees around it, is backed by a hazy distance of downs, where the - softest grey melts into the green. When we were there, all the - clouds were tossed into wild forms, with only a gleam of frightened - sunshine struggling through here and there." - -[Illustration: ALFRISTON.] - - "_Oct. 7._--I fear I rather distressed mother to-day by reverting - to the Rectory miseries, the recollection of which was aroused by - finding an old journal. I will never do it again. My darling mother - has been given back to me from the brink of the grave to love and - to cherish, and, whatever it costs me, can I ever say anything to - cause her even one flush of pain? My will is strong, I know, and it - shall be exercised in always ignoring my own troubles and - prejudices, and never forgetting to anticipate each thought, each - wish of hers. Henceforward I am determined to have no separate - identity, and to be only her reflection." - - - "_Oct. 25._--Went to see old Mrs. Pinnock. She was lying on her - rag-bed in her wretched garret, sadly changed now from the old - woman who, two years ago, would go in the spring-time to Lime Wood - that she might see the bluebells and listen to the nightingales. - Now her old husband sate by, pointing at her worn, dying form, and - exclaiming,'Poor cratur! poor cratur!' She fumbled her poor - shrunken hands over the bedclothes and murmured, 'God bless you, - sir; may God bless you.' They are probably the last words I shall - ever hear from her, and she has always been an object of interest. - As I read 'Shadows' this last evening to the mother, I could not - help feeling how like some of them my own home reminiscences must - some day become, so sad and so softened. But it is no use to think - about the future, for which only God can arrange. 'Good-night, - darling, comfort and blessing of my life,' mother said to me - to-night. 'I will try not to be too anxious. May you be preserved, - and may I have faith. Good-night, my own Birdie.'" - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Chartwell_ (Mr. Colquhoun's), _Oct. 18, 1855._--This is a - beautiful neighbourhood.... How every hour of the day have I - thought of my sweetest mother, and longed to know what she was - doing. We have been so much together this vacation, and so - uncloudedly happy, that it is unnatural to be separate; but my - darling mother and I are never away from one another in heart, - though we so often are in body. And what a blessing it is for me to - have left my mother so well, and to feel that she can still take so - much interest and be so happy in the old home, and that I may go on - cheerily with my Oxford work." - - - "_Harrow, Oct. 11, 1855._--No one is here (with the Vaughans) - except Mr. Munro, whom I find to be the author of 'Basil the - Schoolboy,' which he declares to be a true picture of Harrow life - in his time. A Mr. Gordon has called, who gave a most curious - account of his adventures after having been at school here three - days, and how his companions, having stoned their master's lapdog - to death, forced him to eat it uncooked!"[107] - - - "_Portishead, Nov. 10._--How often I have thought of my mother when - sitting here in the little bow-window, surrounded by the quaint - pictures and china, and the old furniture. Miss Boyle[108] is in - her great chair, her white hair brushed back over her forehead. The - Channel is a dull lead-colour, and the Welsh mountains are half - shrouded in clouds, but every now and then comes out one of those - long gleams and lines of light which are so characteristic of this - place. The day I arrived, a worn-out clockmaker and a retired - architect came to spend the evening and read Shakspeare, and Miss - Boyle made herself quite as charming to them as she has doubtless - been all summer to the archduchesses and princesses with whom she - has been staying in Germany. The next day we went to Clevedon, and - saw the old cruciform church above the sea, celebrated in 'In - Memoriam,' where Arthur Hallam and his brothers and sisters are - buried. From the knoll above was a lovely view of the - church--immediately below was a precipice with the white breakers - at the bottom, which beyond the church ripple up into two little - sandy bays: in the distance, the Welsh mountains, instead of blue, - were the most delicate green. We returned by Clapton, where, beside - an ancient manor-house, is a little church upon a hill, with a - group of old yew-trees." - - - "_Oxford, Nov. 15._--On Monday, Miss Boyle came in my fly to - Bristol, her mission being to break a man she had met with of - drunkenness, having made a promise to his wife that she would save - him. She said that she had shut herself up for hours in prayer - about it, and that, though she did not know in the least how it was - to be done, she was on her way to Bristol to _do_ it. One day, as - we were walking, we met a woman who knew that she had seen her in a - drunken state. 'You will never speak to me again, ma'am,' said the - woman; 'I can never dare see you again.'--'God forbid,' answered - Miss Boyle. 'I've been as great a sinner myself in my time, and I - can never forsake you because you've done wrong: it is more reason - why I should try to lead you to do right.' I had an interesting - day at Bath with dear old Mr. Landor, who sent his best - remembrances to you--'the best and kindest creature he ever knew.'" - - - "_Oxford, Nov. 21._--I have been dining at New College and drinking - out of a silver cup inscribed--'Ex dono Socii Augustus Hare.' - - "Yesterday I went to luncheon at Iffley with Miss Sydney Warburton, - authoress of 'Letters to my Unknown Friends,' and sister of the - Rector--a most remarkable and interesting person. She had been - speaking of the study of life, when the door opened and a young - lady entered. Miss Warburton had just time to whisper 'Watch - her--_she_ is a study indeed.' It was Mrs. Eliot Warburton, - uninteresting in her first aspect, but marvellously original and - powerful in all she said." - - - "_Nov. 26._--I have been a long drive to Boarstall Tower, which is - like an old Border castle, with a moat and bridge. It was defended - during the Civil Wars by a Royalist lady, who, when starved out - after some months' siege, made her escape by a subterranean - passage, carrying off everything with her. Afterwards it was always - in the hands of the Aubreys, till, in the last century, Sir Edward - Aubrey accidentally poisoned his only and idolised son there. The - old nurse imagined that no one knew what had happened but herself, - and she spent her whole life in trying to prevent Sir Edward from - finding out what he had done, and succeeded so well, that it was - years before he discovered it. At last, at a contested election, a - man in the opposition called out, 'Who murdered his own son?' which - led to inquiries, and when Sir Edward found out the truth, he died - of the shock. - - "Mrs. Eliot Warburton and her sister-in-law have just been to - luncheon with me in college, and I am as much charmed with them as - before." - - - "_Dec. 3._--I have been to spend Sunday at Iffley with the - Warburtons." - -I have inserted these notices of my first acquaintance with the -Warburtons, because for some years after this they bore so large a share -in all my interests and thoughts. Mrs. Eliot Warburton at that time -chiefly lived at Oxford or Iffley with her two little boys. Her brother, -Dr. Cradock, was Principal of Brazenose, and had married Miss Lister, -the maid of honour, with whom I became very intimate, scarcely passing a -day without going to Dr. Cradock's house. Miss Warburton died not long -afterwards, but Mrs. Eliot Warburton became one of my dearest friends, -and not mine only, but that of my college circle; for she lived with us -in singular, probably unique intimacy, as if she had been an -undergraduate herself. Scarcely a morning passed without her coming to -our rooms, scarcely an afternoon without our walking with her or going -with her on the river. It was a friendship of the very best kind, with a -constant interchange of the best and highest thoughts, and her one -object was to stimulate us onwards to the noblest aims and ambitions, -though I believe she overrated us, and was mistaken in her great desire -that her two boys should grow up like Sheffield and me. We gave her a -little dog, which she called "Sheffie" after him. We often went to a -distant wood together, where we spent whole hours amongst the primroses -and bluebells or wandered amongst "the warm green muffled Cumnor hills," -as Matthew Arnold calls them; in the evenings we frequently acted -charades in Mrs. Cradock's house. Our intimacy was never broken while I -stayed at Oxford. But I never saw my dear friend afterwards. In 1857 I -heard with a shock of what it is strange that I had never for an instant -anticipated--her engagement to make a second marriage. She wrote to tell -me of it herself, but I never heard from her again. She had other -children, girls, and a few years afterwards she died. Her death was the -first great sorrow I had ever felt from death out of my own family. Her -memory will always be a possession to me. I often saw her husband -afterwards in London, but as I had never seen him with her, it is -difficult for me to associate him with her in my mind. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, Dec. 23, 1855._--I have found such a true observation in - 'Heartsease'--'One must humble oneself in the dust and _crawl_ - under the archway before one can enter the beautiful palace.' This - is exactly what I feel now in waiting upon my mother. When sensible - of being more attentive and lovingly careful than usual, I am, of - course, conscious that I must be deficient at other times, and so - that, while I fancy I do all that could be done, I frequently fall - short. A greater effort is necessary to prevent my mind being even - preoccupied when it is possible that she may want sympathy or - interest, even though it may be in the very merest trifles. - - "The dear mother says her great wish is that I should study--drink - deep, as she calls it--in Latin and Greek, for the strengthening of - my mind. It is quite in vain to try to convince her that college - lectures only improve one for the worse, and that I might do myself - and the world more good by devoting myself to English literature - and diction, the one only thing in which it is ever possible that I - might ever distinguish myself. Oh, how I wish I could become an - author! I begin so now to thirst after distinction of some kind, - and of that kind above all others: but I know my mind must receive - quite a new tone first, and that my scattered fragments of sense - would have to be called into an unanimous action to which they are - quite unaccustomed. - - "The Talmud says 'that there are four kinds of pupils--the sponge - and the funnel, the strainer and the sieve; the sponge is he who - spongeth up everything; and the funnel is he that taketh in at this - ear and letteth out at that: the strainer is he that letteth go the - wine and retaineth the dross; the sieve is he that letteth go the - bran and retaineth the fine flour.' I think I have begun at least - to _wish_ to belong to the last. - - "It has been fearfully cold lately, and it has told sadly upon the - mother and has aged her years in a week. But she is most sweet and - gentle--smiling and trying to find amusement and interest even in - her ailments, and with a loving smile and look for the least thing - done for her." - -Soon after this was written we went to London, and the rest of the -winter was spent between the house of Mrs. Stanley, 6 Grosvenor -Crescent, and that of my Uncle Penrhyn at Sheen. At Grosvenor Crescent I -often had the opportunity of seeing people of more or less interest, for -my Aunt Kitty was a capital talker, as well as a very wise and clever -thinker. She had "le bon sens à jet continu," as Victor Hugo said of -Voltaire. She also understood the art of showing off others to the best -advantage, and in society she never failed to practise it, which always -made her popular; at home, except when Arthur was present, she kept all -the conversation to herself, which was also for the best. Macaulay often -dined with her, and talked to a degree which made those who heard him -sympathise with Sydney Smith, who called him "that talking machine," -talked of his "flumen sermonis," and declared that, when ill, he dreamt -he was chained to a rock and being talked to death by Macaulay or -Harriet Martineau. This year also I met Mrs. Stowe, whose book "Uncle -Tom's Cabin" made at the time a more profound impression in England than -any other book I ever remember. She was very entertaining in describing -her Scotch visits. Inverary she had liked, but she declared with -vehemence that she would "rather be smashed into triangles than go to -Dunrobin again." - -END OF VOL. I. - -_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. -_Edinburgh and London_ - - - - -THE STORY OF MY LIFE - -VOL. II - -[Illustration: Maria Hare. - -From a portrait by Canaveri] - - - - -THE STORY OF -MY LIFE - -BY - -AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE - -AUTHOR OF "MEMORIALS OF A QUIET LIFE," -"THE STORY OF TWO NOBLE LIVES," -ETC. ETC. - -VOLUME II - -LONDON -GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD -1896 -[_All rights reserved_] - -_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. -_At the Ballantyne Press_ - - - - CONTENTS - - PAGE - - OXFORD LIFE 1 - FOREIGN LIFE 32 - WORK IN SOUTHERN COUNTIES 130 - WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 259 - HOME LIFE WITH THE MOTHER 367 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -VOL. II - - - - MARIA HARE. _From G. Canevari._ (_Photogravure_) _Frontispiece_ - PAGE - DRAWING-ROOM, LIME 15 - FROM THE DEAN'S GARDEN, CANTERBURY 24 - LA MADONNA DEI. SASSO, LOCARNO 45 - IN S. APOLLINARE NUOVO, RAVENNA 48 - LORETO 51 - MACERATA 53 - CIVITA CASTELLANA 55 - VALMONTONE 77 - ROCCA JANULA, ABOVE SAN GERMANO 79 - CAPRI 82 - PÆSTUM 83 - VALLOMBROSA 85 - AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. _From G. Canevari._ - (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 96 - PONTE ALLA MADDALENA, LUCCA 96 - PIETRA SANTA 102 - IL VALENTINO, TURIN 107 - VILLAR, IN THE VAUDOIS 110 - NOTRE DAME, PARIS 117 - THE PONT NEUF, PARIS 124 - PORT ROYAL 126 - CATHERINE STANLEY. _From E. U. Eddis._ - (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 132 - CANON STANLEY'S HOUSE, OXFORD 136 - HODNET CHURCH 159 - GIBSIDE 181 - OLD BEECHES, HURSTMONCEAUX PARK 227 - THE ABELES, LIME 245 - MENTONE 248 - GRIMALDI 251 - DOLCEACQUA 254 - PEGLIONE 255 - VENTIMIGLIA 257 - AT DURHAM 262 - ON ALLEN WATER, RIDLEY HALL 273 - FORD CASTLE, THE TERRACE 281 - VIEW FROM HOLMHURST. (_Full-page woodcut_) _To face_ 286 - ENTRANCE TO HOLMHURST: "HUZ AND BUZ" 287 - ALDERLEY CHURCH AND RECTORY 293 - WARKWORTH, FROM THE COQUET 352 - WINTON CASTLE 355 - THE CHEVIOTS, FROM FORD 361 - CARROZZA 371 - ROMAN THEATRE, ARLES 378 - HÔTEL DU MAUROY, TROYES 379 - THE KING OF BOHEMIA'S CROSS, CRECY 380 - S. FLAVIANO, MONTEFIASCONE 386 - OSTIA 391 - THEATRE OF TUSCULUM 392 - AMALFI 397 - COURMAYEUR 410 - ANNE F. M. L. HARE. _From G. Canevari._ - (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 416 - ARS 421 - TOURS 465 - AT ANGOULÊME 467 - PAU 471 - BÉTHARRAM 481 - BIARRITZ 489 - THE PAS DE ROLAND 491 - S. EMILION CATHEDRAL DOOR 494 - AMBOISE 496 - - - - - -VII - -OXFORD LIFE - - "A few souls brought together as it were by chance, for a short - friendship and mutual dependence in this little ship of earth, so - soon to land her passengers and break up the company for ever."--C. - KINSGLEY. - - "To thine own self be true, - And it must follow, as the night the day, - Thou canst not then be false to any man." - --SHAKSPEARE, _Polonius to Laertes_. - -"If you would escape vexation, reprove yourself liberally and others -sparingly."--CONFUCIUS. - - -It was the third year of our Oxford life, and Milligan and I were now -the "senior men" resident in college; we sat at one of the higher tables -in hall, and occupied stalls in chapel. We generally attended lectures -together, and many are the amusing tricks I recall which Milligan used -to play--one especially, on a freshman named Dry--a pious youth in green -spectacles, and with the general aspect of "Verdant Green." An -undergraduate's gown is always adorned with two long strings behind; -these strings of Dry, Milligan adroitly fastened to mine, and, inventing -one excuse after another, for slipping round the room to open the door, -shut a window, &c., he eventually had connected the whole lecture in one -continuous chain; finally, he fastened himself to Dry _on the other -side_; and then, with loud outcries of "Don't, Dry,--don't, Dry," pulled -himself away, the result being that Dry and his chair were overturned, -and that the whole lecture, one after another, came crashing on the top -of him! Milligan would have got into a serious scrape on this occasion, -but that he was equally popular with the tutors and his companions, so -that every possible excuse was made for him, while I laughed in such -convulsions at the absurdity of the scene, that I was eventually -expelled from the lecture, and served as a scapegoat. - -I think we were liked in college--Milligan much better than I. Though we -never had the same sort of popularity as boating-men and cricketers -often acquire, we afforded plenty of amusement. When the college gates -were closed at night, I often used to rush down into Quad and act "Hare" -all over the queer passages and dark corners of the college, pursued by -a pack of hounds who were more in unison with the general idea of Harrow -than of Oxford. One night I had been keeping ahead of my pursuers so -long, that, as one was apt to be rather roughly handled when caught -after a very long chase, I thought it was as well to make good my escape -to my own rooms in the New Buildings, and to "sport my oak." Yet, after -some time, beginning to feel my solitude rather flat after so much -excitement, I longed to regain the quadrangle, but knew that the -staircase was well guarded by a troop of my pursuers. By a vigorous -_coup d'état_, however, I threw open my "oak," and seizing the handrail -of the bannisters, slipped _on_ it through the midst of them, and -reached the foot of the staircase in safety. Between me and the -quadrangle a long cloistered passage still remained to be traversed, and -here I saw the way blocked up by a figure approaching in the moonlight. -Of course it must be an enemy! There was nothing for it but desperation. -I rushed at him like a bolt from a catapult, and by taking him unawares, -butting him in the stomach, and then flinging myself on his neck, -overturned him into the coal-hole, and escaped into Quad. My pursuers, -seeing _some one_ struggling in the coal-hole, thought it was I, and -flung all their sharp-edged college caps at him, under which he was -speedily buried, but emerged in time to exhibit himself as--John -Conington, Professor of Latin! - -Meantime, I had discovered the depth of my iniquity, and fled to the -rooms of Duckworth, a scholar, to whom I recounted my adventure, and -with whom I stayed. Late in the evening a note was brought in for -Duckworth, who said, "It is a note from John Conington," and read--"Dear -Duckworth, having been the victim of a cruel outrage on the part of some -undergraduates of the college, I trust to your friendship for me to -assist me in finding out the perpetrators," &c. Duckworth urged that I -should give myself up--that John Conington was very good-natured--in -fact, that I had better confess the whole truth, &c. So I immediately -sat down and wrote the whole story to Professor Conington, and not till -I had _sent_ it, and it was safe in his hands, did Duckworth confess -that the note he had received was a forgery, that he had contrived to -slip out of the room and write it to himself--and that I had made my -confession unnecessarily. However, he went off with the story and its -latest additions to the Professor, and no more was said. - -If Milligan was my constant companion in college, George Sheffield and I -were inseparable out of doors, though I often wondered at his caring so -much to be with me, as he was a capital rider, shot, oarsman--in fact, -everything which I was not. I believe we exactly at this time, and for -some years after, supplied each other's vacancies. It was the most -wholesome, best kind of devotion, and, if we needed any ennobling -influence, we always had it at hand in Mrs. Eliot Warburton, who -sympathised in all we did, and who, except his mother, was the only -woman whom I ever knew George Sheffield have any regard for. It was -about this time that the Bill was before Parliament for destroying the -privileges of Founder's kin. While it was in progress, we discovered -that George was distinctly "Founder's kin" to Thomas Teesdale, the -founder of Pembroke, and half because our ideas were conservative, half -because we delighted in an adventure of any kind, we determined to take -advantage of the privilege. Dr. Jeune, afterwards Bishop of -Peterborough, was Master of Pembroke then, and was perfectly furious at -our audacity, which was generally laughed at at the time, and treated as -the mere whim of two foolish schoolboys; but we would not be daunted, -and went on our own way. Day after day I studied with George the -subjects of his examination, goading him on. Day after day I walked down -with him to the place of examination, doing my best to screw up his -courage to meet the inquisitors. We went against the Heads of Houses -with the enthusiasm of martyrs in a much greater cause, and we were -victorious. George Sheffield was forcibly elected to a Founder's-kin -Scholarship at Pembroke, and was the last so elected. Dr. Jeune was -grievously annoyed, but, with the generosity which was always -characteristic of him, he at once accorded us his friendship, and -remained my most warm and honoured friend till his death about ten years -afterwards. He was remarkable at Oxford for dogmatically repealing the -law which obliged undergraduates to receive the Sacrament on certain -days in the year. "In future," he announced in chapel, "no member of -this college will be compelled to eat and drink his own damnation." - -In urging George Sheffield to become a scholar of Pembroke, I was -certainly disinterested; without him University lost half its charms, -and Oxford was never the same to me without "Giorgione"--the George of -Georges. But our last summer together was uncloudedly happy. We used to -engage a little pony-carriage at the Maidenhead, with a pony called -Tommy, which was certainly the most wonderful beast for bearing fatigue, -and as soon as ever the college gates were opened, we were "over the -hills and far away." Sometimes we would arrive in time for breakfast at -Thame, a quaint old town quite on the Oxfordshire boundary, where John -Hampden was at school. Then we would mount the Chiltern Hills with our -pony, and when we reached the top, look down upon the great -Buckinghamshire plains, with their rich woods; and when we saw the -different gentlemen's places scattered about in the distance, we used to -say, "There we will go to luncheon"--"There we will go to dinner," and -the little programmes we made we always carried out; for having each a -good many relations and friends, we seldom found we had _no_ link with -any of the places we came to. Sometimes Albert Rutson would ride by the -side of our carriage, but I do not think that either then or afterwards -we quite liked having anybody with us, we were so perfectly contented -with each other, and had always so much to say to each other. Our most -delightful day of all was that on which we had luncheon at Great Hampden -with Mr. and Lady Vere Cameron and their daughters, who were slightly -known to my mother; and dined at the wonderful old house of Chequers, -filled with relics of the Cromwells, the owner, Lady Frankland Russell, -being a cousin of Lady Sheffield's. Most enchanting was the late return -from these long excursions through the lanes hung with honeysuckle and -clematis, satiated as we were, but not wearied with happiness, and full -of interest and enthusiasm in each other and in our mutual lives, both -past and present. One of the results of our frequent visits to the -scenes of John Hampden's life was a lecture which I was induced to -deliver in the town-hall at Oxford, during the last year of my Oxford -life, upon John Hampden--a lecture which was sadly too short, because at -that time I had no experience to guide me as to how long such things -would take. - -It was during this spring that my mother was greatly distressed by the -long-deferred declaration of Mary Stanley that she had become a Roman -Catholic.[109] A burst of family indignation followed, during which I -constituted myself Mary's defender, utterly refused to make any -difference with her, as well as preventing my mother from doing so; and -many were the battles I fought for her. - -A little episode in my life at this time was the publication of my first -book--a very small one, "Epitaphs for Country Churchyards." It was -published by John Henry Parker, who was exceedingly good-natured in -undertaking it, for it is needless to say it was not remunerative to -either of us. The ever-kind Landor praised the preface very much, and -delighted my mother by his grandiloquent announcement that it was "quite -worthy of Addison!" - -At this time also my distant cousin Henry Liddell was appointed to the -Deanery of Christ Church. He had previously been Headmaster of -Westminster, and during his residence there had become celebrated by his -Lexicon. One day he told the boys in his class that they must write an -English epigram. Some of them said it was impossible. He said it was not -impossible at all; they might each choose their own subject, but an -epigram they must write. One boy wrote-- - - "Two men wrote a Lexicon, - Liddell and Scott; - One half was clever, - And one half was not. - Give me the answer, boys, - Quick to this riddle, - Which was by Scott - And which was by Liddell?" - -Dr. Liddell, when it was shown up, only said, "I think you are rather -severe." - -As to education, I did not receive much more at Oxford this year than I -had done before. The college lectures were the merest rubbish; and of -what was learnt to pass the University examinations, nothing has since -been of use to me, except the History for the final Schools. About -fourteen years of life and above £4000 I consider to have been wasted on -my education of nothingness. At Oxford, however, I was not idle, and the -History, French, and Italian, which I taught myself, have always been -useful. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Oxford, Feb. 19, 1856._--Your news about dear Mary (Stanley) is - very sad. She will find out too late the mistake she has made: - that, because she cannot agree with everything in the Church of - England, she should think it necessary to join another, where, if - she receives anything, she will be obliged to receive everything. I - am sorry that the person chosen to argue with her was not one whose - views were more consistent with her own than Dr. Vaughan's. It is - seldom acknowledged, but I believe that, by their tolerance, Mr. - Liddell and Mr. Bennett[110] keep as many people from Rome as other - people drive there. I am very sorry for Aunt Kitty, and hope that - no one who loves her will add to her sorrow by estranging - themselves from Mary--above all, that _you_ will not consider her - religion a barrier. When people see how nobly all her life is given - to good, and how she has even made this great step, at sacrifice to - herself, because she believes that good may better be carried out - in another Church, they may pity her delusion, but no person of - right feeling can possibly be angry with her. And, after all, she - has not changed her religion. It is, as your own beloved John - Wesley said, on hearing that his nephew had become a Papist--'He - has changed his opinions and mode of worship, but has not changed - his religion: that is quite another thing.'" - - * * * * * - - JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, March 30, 1856._--My mother and I have had a very happy - Easter together--more than blessed when I look back at the anxiety - of last Easter. Once when her bell rang in the night, I started up - and rushed out into the passage in an agony of alarm, for every - unusual sound at home has terrified me since her illness; but it - was nothing. I have been full of my work, chiefly Aristotle's - Politics, for 'Greats'--too full, I fear, to enter as I ought into - all her little thoughts and plans as usual: but she is ever loving - and gentle, and had interest and sympathy even when I was - preoccupied. She thinks that knowledge may teach humility even in a - spiritual sense. She says, 'In knowledge the feeling is the same - which one has in ascending mountains--that, the higher one gets, - the _farther_ one is from heaven.' To-day, as we were walking - amongst the flowers, she said, 'I suppose every one's impressions - of heaven are according to the feeling they have for earthly - things: I always feel that a garden is my impression--the _garden_ - of Paradise.' 'People generally love themselves first, their - friends next, and God last,' she said one day. 'Well, I do not - think that is the case with me,' I replied; 'I really believe I do - put you first and self next.' 'Yes, I really think you do,' she - said." - -When I returned to Oxford after Easter, 1856, my pleasant time in -college rooms was over, and I moved to lodgings over Wheeler's bookshop -and facing Dr. Cradock's house, so that I was able to see more than ever -of Mrs. Eliot Warburton. I was almost immediately in the "Schools," for -the classical and divinity part of my final examination, which I got -through very comfortably. While in the Schools at this time, I remember -a man being asked what John the Baptist was beheaded for--and the -answer, "Dancing with Herodias's daughter!" Once through these Schools, -I was free for some time, and charades were our chief amusement, Mrs. -Warburton, the Misses Elliot,[111] Sheffield, and I being the principal -actors. The proclamation of peace after the Crimean War was -celebrated--Oxford fashion--by tremendous riots in the town, and -smashing of windows in all directions. - -At Whitsuntide, I had a little tour in Warwickshire with Albert Rutson -as my companion. We enjoyed a stay at Edgehill, at the charming little -inn called "The Sun Rising," which overlooks the battlefield, having the -great sycamore by its side under which Charles I. breakfasted before the -battle, and a number of Cavalier arms inside, with the hangings of the -bed in which Lord Lindsey died. From Edgehill I saw the wonderful old -house of the Comptons at Compton-Whinyates, with its endless secret -staircases and trap-doors, and its rooms of unplaned oak, evidently -arranged with no other purpose than defence or escape. We went on to -Stratford-on-Avon, with Shakspeare's tomb, his house in Henley Street, -and the pretty old thatched cottage where he wooed his wife--Anne -Hathaway. Also we went to visit Mrs. Lucy (sister of Mrs. William -Stanley) at Charlecote, a most entertaining person, with the family -characteristic of fun and goodhumour; and to Combe Abbey, full of relics -of Elizabeth of Bohemia and her daughters, who lived there with Lord -Craven. Many of the portraits were painted by her daughter Louisa. A few -weeks later I went up to the Stanleys in London for the Peace -illuminations--"very neat, but all alike," as I heard a voice in the -crowd say. I saw them from the house of Lady Mildred Hope, who had a -party for them like the one in Scripture, not the rich and great, but -the "poor, maimed, halt, and blind;" as, except Aldersons and Stanleys, -she arranged that there should not be a single person "in society" -there. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Lime, June 8, 1856._--I had found the dear mother in a sadly - fragile state, so infirm and tottering that it is not safe to leave - her alone for a minute, and she is so well aware of it, that she - does not wish to be left. She cannot now even cross the room alone, - and never thinks of moving anywhere without a stick. Every breath, - even of the summer wind, she feels most intensely. '"The Lord - establish, _strengthen_ you," that must be my verse,' she says." - - - "_June 15._--I am afraid I cannot help being tired of the mental - solitude at home, as the dear mother, without being ill enough to - create any anxiety, has not been well enough to take any interest, - or have any share in my doings. Sometimes I am almost sick with the - silence, and, as I can never go far enough from her to allow of my - leaving the garden, I know not only every cabbage, but every leaf - upon every cabbage." - -[Illustration: DRAWING-ROOM, LIME.] - - "_June 29._--We have been for a week with the Stanleys at - Canterbury, and it was very pleasant to be with Arthur, who was his - most charming self." - -Early in July, I preceded my mother northwards, made a little sketching -tour in Lincolnshire, where arriving with little luggage, and drawing -hard all day, I excited great commiseration amongst the people as a poor -travelling artist. "Eh, I shouldn't like to have such hard work as -_that_ on. Measter, I zay, I should'na like to be you." - -At Lincoln I joined my mother, and we went on together to Yorkshire, -where my friend Rutson lent us a charming old manor-house, Nunnington -Hall near Helmsley, the centre of an interesting country, in which we -visited the principal ruined abbeys of Yorkshire. My mother entirely -recovered here, and was full of enjoyment. On our way to Harrogate, a -Quakeress with whom we travelled persecuted me with "The Enquiring -Parishioner on the Way to Salvation," and then, after looking at my -sketches, hoped that "one so gifted was not being led away by Dr. -Pusey!" At Bolton we stayed several days at the Farfield Farm, and -thence drove through Swale Dale to Richmond. On our way farther north, I -paid my first visit to my cousins at Ravensworth, and very alarming I -thought it; rejoining my mother at Warkworth, a place I have always -delighted in, and where Mrs. Clutterbuck[112] and her daughters were -very kind to us. More charming still were the next few days spent with -my kind old cousin Henry Liddell (brother-in-law of my Aunt Ravensworth) -in Bamborough Castle. - -We visited Dryburgh and Jedburgh, and the vulgar commonplace villa, with -small ill-proportioned rooms looking out upon nothing at all, out of -which Sir Walter Scott created the Abbotsford of his imagination. -Charlotte Leycester having joined us, I left my mother at the Bridge of -Allan for a little tour, in the first hour of which I, Italian-fashion, -made a friendship with one with whom till her death I continued to be -most intimate. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Tillycoultry House, August 12, 1856._--My mother will be - surprised that, instead of writing from an inn, I should date from - one of the most beautiful places in the Ochils, and that I should - be staying with people whom, though we met for the first time a few - hours ago, I already seem to know intimately. - - "When I left my mother and entered the train at Stirling, two - ladies got in after me; one old, yellow, and withered; the other, - though elderly, still handsome, and with a very sweet interesting - expression. She immediately began to talk. 'Was I a - sportsman?'--'No, only a tourist.'--'Then did I know that on the - old bridge we were passing, the Bishop of Glasgow long ago was hung - in full canonicals?' And with such histories the younger of the two - sisters, in a very sweet Scottish accent, animated the whole way to - Alloa. Having arrived there, she said, 'If we part now, we shall - probably never meet again: there is no time for discussion, but be - assured that my husband, Mr. Dalzell, will be glad to see you. - Change your ticket at once, and come home with me to Tillycoultry.' - And ... I obeyed; and here I am in a great, old, half-desolate - house, by the side of a torrent and a ruined churchyard, under a - rocky part of the Ochils. - - "Mr. Dalzell met us in the avenue. He is a rigid maintainer of the - Free Kirk, upon which Mrs. Huggan (the old sister) says he spends - all his money--about £18,000 a year--and he is very odd, and passes - three-fourths of the day quite alone, in meditation and prayer. He - has much sweetness of manner in speaking, but seems quite hazy - about things of earth, and entirely rapt in prophecies and thoughts - either of the second coming of Christ or of the trials of the Kirk - part of his Church on earth. - - "Mrs. Dalzell is quite different, truly, beautifully, practically - holy. She 'feels,' as I heard her say to her sister to-night, 'all - things are wrapt up in Christ.' The evening was very long, as we - dined at four, but was varied by music and Scotch songs. - - "The old Catholic priest who once lived here cursed the place, in - consequence of which it is believed that there are--no little - birds!" - - - "_Dunfermline, August 13._--This morning I walked with Mr. Dalzell - to Castle Campbell--an old ruined tower, on a precipitous rock in a - lovely situation surrounded by mountains, the lower parts of which - are clothed with birch woods. Inside the castle is a ruined court, - where John Knox administered his first Sacrament. On the way we - passed the little burial-ground of the Taits, surrounded by a high - wall, only open on one side, towards the river Devon." - - - "_Falkland, August 14._--After drawing in beautiful ruined - Dunfermline, I drove to Kinross, and embarked in the 'Abbot' for - the castle of Loch Leven, which rises on its dark island against a - most delicate distance of low mountains.... There is a charming - oldfashioned inn here, and a beautiful old castle, in one of the - rooms of which the young Duke of Rothesay was starved to death by - his uncle." - - - "_St. Andrews, August 15._--This is a glorious place, a rocky - promontory washed by the sea on both sides, crowned by Cardinal - Beaton's castle, and backed by a perfect crowd of ecclesiastical - ruins. The cathedral was the finest in Scotland, but destroyed in - one day by a mob instigated by John Knox, who ought to have been - flayed for it. Close by its ruins is a grand old tower, built by - St. Regulus, who 'came with two ships' from Patras, and died in one - of the natural caves in the cliff under the castle. In the castle - itself is Cardinal Beaton's dungeon, where a Lord Airlie was - imprisoned, and whence he was rescued by his sister, who dressed - him up in her clothes." - - - "_Brechin, August 17._--The ruin of Arbroath (Aberbrothock) is most - interesting. William the Lion is buried before the high altar, and - in the chapter-house is the lid of his coffin in Scottish marble, - with his headless figure, the only existing effigy of a Scottish - king. In the chapter-house a man puts into your hand what looks - like a lump of decayed ebony, and you are told it is the 'blood, - gums, and intestines' of the king. You also see the skull of the - Queen, the thigh-bone of her brother, and other such relics of - royalty. Most beautiful are the cliffs of Arbroath, a scene of - Scott's 'Antiquary.' From a natural terrace you look down into deep - tiny gulfs of blue water in the rich red sandstone rock, with every - variety of tiny islet, dark cave, and perpendicular pillar; and, - far in the distance, is the Inchcape Rock, where the Danish pirate - stole the warning bell, and was afterwards lost himself; which gave - rise to the ballad of 'Sir Patrick Spens.' The Pictish tower here - is most curious, but its character injured by the cathedral being - built too near." - -I have an ever-vivid recollection of a most piteous Sunday spent in the -wretched town of Brechin, with nothing whatever to do, as in those days -it would have made my mother too miserable if I had travelled at all on -a Sunday--the wretched folly of Sabbatarianism (against which our -Saviour so especially preached when on earth) being then rife in our -family, to such a degree, that I regard with loathing the recollection -of every seventh day of my life until I was about eight-and-twenty.[113] -After leaving Brechin, I saw the noble castle of Dunottar, and joined my -mother at Braemar, where we stayed at the inn, and Charlotte Leycester -at a tiny lodging in a cottage thatched with peat. I disliked Braemar -extremely, and never could see the beauty of that much-admired valley, -with its featureless hills, half-dry river, and the ugly castellated -house of Balmoral. Dean Alford and his family were at Braemar, and their -being run away with in a carriage, our coming up to them, our servant -John stopping their horses, the wife and daughters being taken into our -carriage, and my walking back with the Dean, first led to my becoming -intimate with him. I remember, during this walk, the description he -gave me of the "Apostles' Club" at Cambridge, of which Henry Hallam was -the nucleus and centre, and of which Tennyson was a member, but from -which he was turned out because he was too lazy to write the necessary -essay. Hallam, who died at twenty-two, had "grasped the whole of -literature before he was nineteen." The Alfords were travelling without -any luggage, and could consequently _walk_ their journeys anywhere--that -is, each lady had only a very small hand-bag, and the Dean had a -walking-stick, which unscrewed and displayed the materials of a -dressing-case, a pocket inkstand, and a candlestick. - -On our way southwards I first saw Glamis. I did not care about the -places on the inland Scottish lakes, except Killin, where our cousin -Fanny Tatton and her friend Miss Heygarth joined us, and where we spent -some pleasant week-days and a most abominable Sunday. We afterwards -lingered at Arrochar on Loch Long, whither Aunt Kitty and Arthur Stanley -came to us from Inverary. We returned to Glasgow by the Gareloch, which -allowed me to visit at Paisley the tomb of my royal ancestress, Marjory -Bruce. At Glasgow, though we were most uncomfortable in a noisy and very -expensive hotel, my mother insisted upon spending a wretched day, -because of--Sunday! We afterwards paid pleasant visits at Foxhow and -Toft, whence I went on alone to Peatswood in Shropshire (Mr. Twemlow's), -and paid from thence a most affecting visit to our old home at Stoke, -and to Goldstone Farm, the home of my dear Nurse Lea. Hence I returned -with Archdeacon and Mrs. Moore to Lichfield, and being there when the -grave of St. Chad was opened, was presented with a fragment of his -_body_--a treasure inestimable to Roman Catholics, which I possess -still. - -During the remaining weeks of autumn, before I returned to Oxford, we -had many visitors at Lime, including my new friend Mrs. Dalzell, whose -goodness and simplicity perfectly charmed my mother. - -[Illustration: FROM THE DEAN'S GARDEN, CANTERBURY.] - -We passed the latter part of the winter between the Penrhyns' house at -Sheen, Aunt Kitty's house of 6 Grosvenor Crescent, and Arthur Stanley's -Canonry at Canterbury. With Arthur I dined at the house of Mr. Woodhall, -a Canterbury clergyman, now a Roman Catholic priest, having been -specially invited to meet (at a huge horseshoe table) "the middle -classes"--a very large party of chemists, nurserymen, &c., and their -wives, and very pleasant people they were. I used to think Canterbury -perfectly enchanting, and Arthur was most kind and charming to me. While -there, I remember his examining a school at St. Stephen's, and asking -the meaning of bearing false witness against one's neighbour--"When -nobody does nothing to nobody," answered a child, "and somebody goes -and tells." - -In returning to Oxford in 1857, I terribly missed my constant companions -hitherto--Milligan and Sheffield, who had both left, and, except perhaps -Forsyth Grant, I had no real friends left, though many pleasant -acquaintances, amongst whom I had an especial regard for Tom Brassey, -the simple, honest, hardworking son of the great contractor and -millionaire--afterwards my near neighbour in Sussex, whom I have watched -grow rapidly up from nothing to a peerage, with only boundless money and -common-sense as his aides-de-camp. The men I now saw most of were those -who called themselves the ??????--generally reputed "the fast men" of -the college, but a manly high-minded set of fellows. Most of my time was -spent in learning Italian with Count Saffi, who, a member of the -well-known Roman triumvirate, was at that time residing at Oxford with -his wife, _née_ Nina Crauford of Portincross.[114] I was great friends -with this remarkable man, of a much-tried and ever-patient countenance, -and afterwards went to visit him at Forli. I may mention Godfrey -Lushington (then of All Souls) as an acquaintance of whom I saw much at -this time, and whom I have always liked and respected exceedingly, -though our paths in life have not brought us often together since. It -was very difficult to distinguish him from his twinbrother Vernon; -indeed, it would have been impossible to know them apart, if Vernon had -not, fortunately for their friends, shot off some of his fingers. - -In March (1857) I was proud to receive my aunt, Mrs. Stanley, with all -her children, Mrs. Grote, and several others, at a luncheon in my rooms -in honour of Arthur Stanley's inaugural lecture as Professor of -Ecclesiastical History, in which capacity his lectures, as indeed all -else concerning him, were subjects of the greatest interest to me, my -affection for him being that of a devoted younger brother. - -I was enchanted with Mrs. Grote, whom De Tocqueville pronounced "the -cleverest woman of his acquaintance," though her exterior--with a short -waist, brown mantle of stamped velvet, and huge bonnet, full of -fullblown red roses--was certainly not captivating. Sydney Smith always -called her "Grota," and said she was the origin of the word grotesque. -Mrs. Grote was celebrated for having never felt shy. She had a passion -for discordant colours, and had her petticoats always arranged to -display her feet and ankles, of which she was excessively proud. At her -own home of Burnham she would drive out with a man's hat and a -coachman's cloak of many capes. She had an invalid friend in that -neighbourhood, who had been very seriously ill, and was still intensely -weak. When Mrs. Grote proposed coming to take her for a drive, she was -pleased, but was horrified when she saw Mrs. Grote arrive in a very high -dogcart, herself driving it. With great pain and labour she climbed up -beside Mrs. Grote, and they set off. For some time she was too exhausted -to speak, then she said something almost in a whisper. "Good God! don't -speak so loud," said Mrs. Grote, "or you'll frighten the horse: if he -runs away, God only knows when he'll stop." - -On the occasion of this visit at Oxford, Mrs. Grote sat with one leg -over the other, both high in the air, and talked for two hours, turning -with equal facility to Saffi on Italian Literature, Max Müller on Epic -Poetry, and Arthur on Ecclesiastical History, and then plunged into a -discourse on the best manure for turnips and the best way of forcing -Cotswold mutton, with an interlude first upon the "harmony of shadow" -in watercolour drawing, and then upon rat-hunts at Jemmy Shawe's--a low -public-house in Westminster. Upon all these subjects she was equally -vigorous, and gave all her decisions with the manner and tone of one -laying down the laws of Athens. She admired Arthur excessively, but was -a capital friend for him, because she was not afraid of laughing--as all -his own family were--at his morbid passion for impossible analogies. In -his second lecture Arthur made a capital allusion to Mr. Grote, while -his eyes were fixed upon the spouse of the historian, and when she heard -it, she thumped with both fists upon her knees, and exclaimed loudly, -"Good God! how good!" I did not often meet Mrs. Grote in after life, but -when I did, was always on very cordial terms with her. She was, to the -last, one of the most original women in England, shrewd, generous, and -excessively vain. I remember hearing that when she published her Life of -her husband, Mr. Murray was obliged to insist upon her suppressing one -sentence, indescribably comic to those who were familiar with her -uncouth aspect. It was--"When George Grote and I were young, we were -equally distinguished by the beauty of our persons and the vivacity of -our conversation!" Her own true vocation she always declared was that of -an opera-dancer. - -Arthur Stanley made his home with me during this visit to Oxford, but -one day I dined with him at Oriel, where we had "Herodotus pudding"--a -dish peculiar to that college. - - JOURNAL. - - - "_Lime, Easter Sunday, April 12, 1857._--I have been spending a - happy fortnight at home. The burst of spring has been - beautiful--such a golden carpet of primroses on the bank, - interspersed with tufts of still more golden daffodils, hazels - putting forth their fresh green, and birds singing. My sweet mother - is more than usually patient under the trial of failure of - sight--glad to be read to for hours, but contented to be left - alone, only saying sometimes--'Now, darling, come and talk to me a - little.' On going to church this morning, we found that poor - Margaret Coleman, the carpenter's wife, had, as always on this day, - covered Uncle Julius's grave with flowers. He is wonderfully missed - by the people, though they seldom saw him except in church; for, as - Mrs. Jasper Harmer said to me the other day, 'We didn't often see - him, but then we knew he was always _studying_ us--now wasn't he?'" - -A subject of intense interest after my return to Oxford was hearing -Thackeray deliver his lectures on the Georges. That which spoke of the -blindness of George III., with his glorious intonation, was -indescribably pathetic. It was a great delight to have George Sheffield -back and to resume our excursions, one of which was to see the May Cross -of Charlton-on-Ottmoor, on which I published a very feeble story in a -magazine; and another to Abingdon, where we had luncheon with the -Head-master of the Grammar School, who, as soon as it was over, -apologised for leaving us because he had got "to wallop so many boys." -All our visits to Abingdon ended in visits to the extraordinary old -brothers Smith, cobblers, who always sat cross-legged on a counter, and -always lived upon raw meat. We had heard of their possession of an -extraordinary old house which no one had entered, and we used to try to -persuade them to take us there; but when we asked one he said, "I would, -but my brother Tom is so eccentric, it would be as much as my life is -worth--I really couldn't;" and when we asked the other he said, "I -would, but you've no idea what an extraordinary man my brother John is; -he would never consent." However, one day we captured both the old men -together and over-persuaded them (no one ever could resist George), and -we went to the old house, a dismal tumble-down building, with shuttered -windows, outside the town. Inside it was a place of past ages--old -chairs and cupboards of the sixteenth century, old tapestries, and old -china, but all deep, deep in dust and dirt, which was never cleaned -away. It was like the palace of the Sleeping Beauty after the hundred -years' sleep. I have several pieces of china out of that old house -now--"Gris de Flandres ware." - -In June I made a little tour, partly of visits, and from Mrs. Vaughan's -house at Leicester had an enchanting expedition to Bradgate, the ruined -home of Lady Jane Grey, in a glen full of oaks and beeches of immense -age. - -In my final (History and Law) Schools I had passed with great ease, and -had for some time been residing at Oxford as a Bachelor, having taken my -degree. But as one friend after another departed, the interest of Oxford -had faded. I left it on the 13th of June 1857, and without regret. - - - - -VIII - -FOREIGN LIFE - - "Under the arch of Life, where love and death, - Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I saw - Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe, - I drew it in as simply as my breath."--ROSSETTI. - - "A good mental condition includes just as much culture as is - necessary to the development of the faculties, but not any burden - of erudition heavy enough to diminish (as erudition so often does) - the promptitude or elasticity of the mind."--HAMERTON, _French and - English_. - - "Who thinks the story is all told at twenty? Let them live on and - try."--_Hitherto._ - - -In June 1857 we left Lime for a long residence abroad. My mother's -doctors had declared that being thoroughly imbued with heat in a warm -climate was the only way in which her health could be permanently -benefited. It was a journey so long prepared for by historical studies, -that I imagine few people have gone to Italy with a more thorough -knowledge of what they would find there than we possessed. - -We took our two old servants, Lea and John (Gidman), abroad with us, and -Charlotte Leycester accompanied us to Lucerne, where the family was -established for the hot summer months at the Pension Faller, which -stands at the end of a long green terrace behind the cathedral -cloisters, with a glorious view of Mont Pilate and all the range of -mountains on the other side of the lake. George Sheffield came out to -Lucerne to accompany me thence to Austria; but as he was very young at -the time, and his college examinations were not over, we had to gain his -parents' consent to this project by consenting to his having a tutor, -and chose for this purpose our common acquaintance Robinson Duckworth, -afterwards tutor to Prince Leopold. The arrangement did not answer, -though it must be confessed that we treated Duckworth very ill, and were -always playing him tricks. One night at Linz, for instance, we were -greatly annoyed by finding he would have to sleep in our room, which was -a very large one. He went out to listen to the band in the evening, and -we spent the time of his absence in drawing the third bed into the -middle of the room, and arranging it like a kind of catafalque, with -lighted candles at the four corners. We then went to bed ourselves and -pretended to be deep in slumber. When Duckworth came in, though two -people could just manage to move the heavy bed to its pedestal, it was -quite impossible for him alone to move it back again, and he was obliged -to go to bed upon it--and most absurd he looked in the morning. I do not -think he ever quite forgave us for this trick. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - - "_Constance, July 24._--The Falls of Schaffhausen, with the dashing - and roaring emerald water, were quite glorious. We came here from - thence by steamer--the entrance to Constance very lovely, and the - distant Alps lighted with the most delicate pink hues of sunset. - The inn is close to the lake-pier and to the old Council-house. We - have walked to the field at Bruhl where Huss was burnt, and since - then Duckworth has been serenading the nuns of a Franciscan convent - under their windows with airs out of 'Don Giovanni.'" - - - "_July 26._--We were called at four, and my companions went out - fishing, and returned dragging an immense pike which they had - caught. Meanwhile I had seen the Minster and drawn the Kauf-haus, - and was ready to leave with them at nine. We had a delicious - journey across the still lake, Sheffield and I sitting quite down - in the bow of the boat, where we had nothing before us but the soft - blue lake and distant snows, and where we cut through air and water - at the same time." - - - "_July 29._--Yesterday we embarked at Donauwörth on the Danube - steamer--crowded, filthy, and ceaselessly vibrating--the river the - colour of pea-soup, with sandbanks on which we stuck every five - minutes. There was no relief to the hideous monotony of the nine - hours' voyage, the blackened swamps only changing into barren - sandhills, on which a few ragged hops were vainly struggling for - existence. But to-day in grand old Ratisbon has made up for - yesterday's sufferings. Sheffield and I had great fun in making an - expedition to the palace of the Prince of Thurm and Taxis. Numbers - of people were out, and we discovered it was to greet the two young - princes, who were to return that day from their travels: so we - represented them, bowed to the right and left all through the - street, and finally being set down at the palace, escaped into the - garden and out the other way: what became of the real princes we - have not heard. After all our audacity and impertinence in pushing - through the Prince's courtyard and intruding upon his garden, we - were rather touched by coming upon a placard inscribed--'The - possessor of this garden, who has nothing nearer his heart than the - promotion of universal pleasure, bids you--_welcome!_'" - - - "_August 1._--In early morning we were on board the Danube steamer. - Immediately after, three very common-looking men came on board by a - boat, and descended at once to the cabin. Soon a neighbour - whispered that one of them was the Archduke Albrecht, Governor of - Hungary,--and behold, in a few minutes the three strangers emerged, - dressed in gorgeous uniforms and glittering with orders.... All - along the shore were crowds of bowing and curtseying people. At the - hotel at Linz the Archduchess and her two daughters were waiting - for the Archduke on the balcony of the inn; and their presence - brought a splendid band under the window in the evening. This - morning the whole family came on board, amid guns firing and crowds - of people, to whom we thought the Archduchess would have bowed her - head off. The presence of royalties gave us a better steamer, and - before reaching Vienna the scenery of the Danube improved, - especially at the rocks and castle of Dürnstein, where Richard - Cœur-de-Lion was imprisoned." - - - "_August 4._--Vienna would be delightful if it were not for the - heat, but the grass is all burnt brown, and the trees almost black. - Sheffield and I have driven to the old convent called - Klosterneuburg, and in returning saw at Nussdorf the arrival of the - Archduke Maximilian and his lovely wife,[115] radiant, unaffected, - captivating all who saw her." - - - "_August 6._--We have been to the country-palace of Laxenburg--a - terrible drive in a sirocco, which made both Sheffield and me as - ill as a sea-voyage. Laxenburg was the palace of Maria Theresa, and - has an English park, only the grounds are full of gothic temples, - &c., and an imitation dungeon fortress, with an imitation prisoner - in it, who lifts his hands beseechingly and rattles his chains as - you approach. Princess Charlotte was to have her first meeting with - all the imperial family in the afternoon, and we waited for the - public appearance of the royalties after dinner. We saw them emerge - from the palace, and then ran down to the lake to see them embark. - The imperial party arrived in carriages at the water's edge, and - were set down under some old plane-trees, where their barges were - ready, with rowers in sailors' dresses. First came the Empress, - looking very lovely and charming, bowing her way to her own boat, - which was distinguished by its blue cloth linings. Then came the - Emperor, _running_ as hard as he could, to be in time to hand her - in: then sweet-looking Princess Charlotte, with a radiantly happy - and not at all a shy expression; the mother of the Empress; - Princess Marguerite; the Queen of Saxony; and the Archduchess - Albrecht. All these entered the imperial boat, which was followed - by another with three old countesses, and then all the court ladies - in other boats. The Emperor and the Archdukes Leopold and Heinrich - rowed themselves. There could hardly be a prettier scene--no crowd, - no staring, and sunset on the water as the little fleet glided in - among the cypress-covered islets. The last I saw of them was one of - the princesses seizing hold of the old countesses' boat, and - rocking it violently to give them a good fright. - - "Throughout our travels we have perpetually fallen in with two - solitary ladies. Yesterday one of them said to Duckworth, 'I beg - your pardon, perhaps I ought not to ask, but the melancholy - gentleman (meaning me) must have had a very severe disappointment; - was it recent?--he seems to take on very much. Well, my idea is one - must always be crossed three times before love runs smooth.' - Duckworth asked where they were going. 'Oh, where is it?' said the - younger lady; 'I quite forget the name of the place; something very - long, I know.'--'Oh, Constantinople, my dear, that's the name, and - then we go to a place they call Smyrna, and then to Algeria; for - you see we've been to Rome and Naples, and if you don't mind - travelling, it's just the same thing whether you go to one place or - another.'" - - - "_Aussee in Styria, August 8._--The last thing Sheffield and I did - together was to go to the Capuchin vault, where all the sovereigns - of the House of Hapsburg lie in gorgeous sarcophagi and coffins: - amongst them Maria Theresa, and the husband by whose grave she came - to pray every Friday in this dark vault. In one corner was the - little Archduchess Sophia, only dead two months, her coffin heaped - still with the white garlands deposited by her father and mother, - who--are out of mourning for her. - - "After parting with my companions, I went by train to Modling, and - drove through the Wienerwald to Heiligenkreutz,[116] a gigantic - monastery on the edge of a perfectly desolate moor, but in itself - magnificent, with a quadrangle larger than 'Tom Quad' at Oxford. - Daylight was waning, and I hastened to get the Sacristan to show me - the 'Heilige Partikel,' which is kept in a venerable old leather - case, and set in a huge golden cross covered with jewels. There are - beautiful cloisters, and several chapels of the fourteenth - century, and in one of them a fountain, so large that its sound is - that of a waterfall. From Baden I crossed the Simmering pass to - Bruck-an-der-Mur. Here all the travellers who descended from the - train drew diligence tickets by turns, and as mine was only No. 11, - I came in for the rickety board by the driver! What a road it was, - in which the heavy wheels alternately sank into quagmires of deep - mud, or jolted over the piles of stones which were thrown down to - fill them up. The dank marshy plain was covered with driving white - fog, from which one could only take refuge in the fumes of bad - tobacco around one. - - "When at length it was my turn to change, it was into an old car - with leathern curtains, and horses so feeble that the passengers - were obliged to get out and plod through the thick mud at every - incline. I had a German companion, who smoked all night in my face. - - "All through the night a succession of these cars was kept up, the - company being turned out every two hours in some filthy village - street, while another wretched old carriage was searched for and - brought out. The taverns at which we stopped were most miserable. - In the only one I entered the old landlady came out in her - nightgown, and seizing my straw hat from my head, placed it on the - top of her own top-knot, exclaiming, 'Schöne Strohhut.' Not till - midday did we arrive here, and then found the inn full and the - hills shrouded in mist--the 'Mountains of the Dead,' as the - surroundings of this lonely lake are called, appalling in their - white winding-sheets." - - - "_Salzburg, August 14._--During my first days in the Salzkammergut, - I might have been inside a kitchen boiler, so thick and white was - the steam. But the landlord at Ischl said it was not likely to - clear, and, wearied of waiting and longing to see _something_, I - went off to the Traunsee, where, to my surprise, the mist suddenly - gave way, the sun appeared, and in a few minutes the heavy veil - rolled back, and the beautiful blue lake and high forest-clad - mountains were disclosed as if by magic. In a few minutes after - shivering, we were all complaining of heat again, and then - luxuriating in the cool breeze as we steamed slowly under the great - purple Traunstein. At Gmünden[117] we dined at the little inn, - served by ladies in gold helmets, with great silver chains round - their necks. I drove on to the fall in an _Einspanner_. It is a - miniature Schaffhausen, and the colour of the water most beautiful. - On the following day an old Colonel Woodruffe and his wife took me - with them to Hallstadt, where we were rowed by women in crimson - petticoats down the lovely lake to the village. The scenery is - magnificent--jagged mountains melting into beautiful chestnut woods - which reach to the water's edge, and at the end of the lake the - little town, with its picturesque wooden houses and beautiful - gothic chapel. The population consists of nine hundred Roman - Catholics and nine hundred Protestants, who live together most - amicably. No vehicle can enter the town, for the streets are narrow - gullies, with staircases from one house to another. - - "My new friends left me at Hallstadt, and early next morning I was - up, and in the forest, to see the Wildbach waterfall, an exquisite - walk, through green glades carpeted with cyclamen and columbines, - with great masses of moss-grown rock tossed about amongst the - trees, and high mountains rising all around. The goats were just - getting up and coming out of their sheds, ringing their little - bells as they skipped about amongst the rocks, and the flowers were - all glistening with dew--no human being moving, except the - goatherds directing their flocks up the mountain paths. I reached - the waterfall, in its wild amphitheatre of rock, before the sun, - and saw the first rolling away of the morning mist, and the clear - mountain torrent foaming forth in its place; while far beyond was - the great snowy Dachstein. - - "At nine, a little boat took me to the Gosauswang at the other end - of the lake, and while I was waiting there for an _Einspanner_, - four travellers came up, one of whom--a pleasant-looking - clergyman--introduced himself as Mr. Clements, the Rector of Upton - St. Leonards, and informed me that his companions were his brother, - just returned from Australia, and the two young Akers of Prinknash. - - "As soon as they were gone off in their boat, my little carriage - came, and I had a glorious drive, up the banks of the torrent - Gosau, to open mountain pastures, backed by a magnificent range of - bare rocky peaks. There is only a footpath from the 'Schmidt' to - the Vorder See, set in the loveliest of forests, and backed by - noble rugged peaks and snowy glaciers. The colour of the lake was - indescribable, but oftenest like a rainbow seen through a - prism--the purple, green, and clear blue melting into each other, - and the whole transparent as crystal, showing all the bright stones - and pebbles in the immense depths and reflecting all the snow-peaks - beyond. When I returned to the inn, the Clements' party had - arrived, and finding they were going the same way, I engaged to - travel with them to Innsbruck. - - "On Friday we all went again to the Vorder See, and then, taking a - woodcutter as guide, scrambled on for two hours through woods and - rocks to the Hinter See,[118] which is like a turquoise set in the - mountains. - - "We returned together to Ischl, and left in a carriage next day. At - the end of St. Wolfgang Lake we engaged a boat and crossed to the - curious old gothic church which contains the shrine of St. - Wolfgang, and his rocky bed projecting through the pavement of a - chapel, upon which the peasants throw kreutzers through a grating. - We did not arrive at Salzburg till dark. What a fine old town it - is!--but what most interested me was seeing here an old lady in - black walking to church with a lady behind her. It was the Kaiserin - Caroline, widow of the Emperor Francis I., grand-daughter-in-law of - Maria Theresa, niece of Marie Antoinette, sister-in-law of Marie - Louise!" - - - "_Reichenhall, August 26._--From Salzburg we visited the mines of - Hallein, into which we descended in full miner's costume--thick - white trousers, smock-frock, cap, and a leathern apron _behind_. - The guide gave us each a light, and marshalled us in single file - through the narrow dark passages. On the summit of the first - descent, we were all made to sit down upon our leathern aprons, to - put our legs round each others' heads, hold a rope, and then slide - off like a train into the dark abyss--alarming at first, and then - very amusing. After three slides, we reached a black lake like the - Styx, with lamps glittering like stars on faraway rocks. Here a - boat moved by invisible hands came soundlessly gliding towards us: - we stepped in, and in death-like silence, without oars or rowers, - floated across the ghastly waters. On the opposite bank a wooden - horse was waiting, on which we were made to sit, each behind the - other, and, when we were mounted, rushed away with the speed of a - whirlwind through the dark unearthly passages. At last, what looked - like a twinkling star appeared in the distance, and it gradually - increased till we emerged in open daylight. It is a most - extraordinary expedition, but as the salt is all black, there is no - beauty. We went on to Berchtesgaden and the Königsee and Obersee, - but the wet weather only cleared enough to show us the beauties of - the myrtle-green water." - -It was a most wearisome journey then--two days of twelve hours in a -carriage--to Innsbruck, where I parted with my companions. Hence a -terrible long diligence journey of seventeen hours brought me to Botzen. -The driver beguiled the way by telling me the history of his life--how -when quite young he had given up smoking, and constantly put by all the -money he should have spent on tobacco, in the hope of using it in -revisiting Naples and the Island of Ischia, where he had been in boyhood -as a soldier; but that two years before these designs had been cut -short, because one day, when he returned with his diligence from Verona, -he found his house burnt to the ground, and nothing saved except six -silver spoons which his wife had carried off in her apron. - -From Botzen I went to Meran and Trafoi, whence I walked across the -Stelvio to the Baths of Bormio; but this part of the tour was not -enjoyable, as my sufferings were always so great from bad weather, and -hunger owing to want of money. Still less pleasant were the immense -journeys afterwards by Finstermuntz and the Great Arlberg, along -horrible roads and in wretched diligences, which, in these days of -luxurious railway travelling, we should think perfectly unendurable. At -Wesen, on the Lake of Wallenstadt, I had the happiest of meetings with -my dear mother and her old servants, and vividly does the impression -come back to me of the luxurious sense of rest in the first evening, and -of freedom from discomfort, privation, and want. - -[Illustration: LA MADONNA DEL SASSO, LOCARNO.[119]] - -We crossed the Bernardino to Locarno, where we were joined by mother's -widowed niece, Mrs. Charles Stanley, and by her friend Miss Cole. There -were many circumstances which made me see the whole of North Italy -through jaundiced eyes at this time, so that Milan, Venice, and even -beautiful Verona, became more associated in my mind with mental and -bodily fatigue than with any pleasure. One of the happiest -recollections which comes back to me is an excursion alone with my sweet -mother to the old deserted convent of Chiaravalle near Milan, and the -grave of the enthusiast Wilhelmina. At Venice we had much pleasure in -sight-seeing with Miss Louisa Cole, and her cousins Mr. and Miss Warre, -the latter of whom afterwards married Froude the historian. - -At Padua we engaged two _vetturino_ carriages, in one of which our -companions travelled, and in the other my mother and I with our two old -servants. The first day's journey, through the rich plain of the vintage -in October, was very pleasant, meeting the immense wains and waggons -laden with grapes, and the merry peasants, who delighted to give us -large ripe bunches as we passed. But we had a perilous passage of the -swollen Po, on which our carriage was embarked in a large boat, towed -with ropes by numbers of men in smaller boats. In our long journey in -our roomy excellent carriage--our home for about three weeks--we were -provided with a perfect library of books, for my mother was quite of the -opinion of Montaigne when he said, "Je ne voyage sans livres, n'y en -paix, n'y en guerre. C'est la meilleure munition j'aye trouvé à cet -humain voyage." So we studied the whole of Arnold, Gibbon, Ranke, and -Milman at this time. The slower the mode of travel, the greater its -variety. In the middle of the day the _vetturini_ rested often in some -picturesque town, where there were churches, convents, and pictures to -sketch or visit; sometimes in quiet country inns, near which we wandered -in country lanes, and collected the wild-flowers of the district. How -vividly the recollections of these quiet weeks come back to me--of the -charm of our studies and the weekly examination upon them: of the novel -which my mother and I used afterwards to tell each other alternately, in -which the good characters lived at a place called "Holmhurst," but -somehow contrived to have always some link with the scenes through which -we were travelling: of our early luncheon of bread and preserved -apricots: of our arrival in the evenings at rooms which had always a -wholesome barn-like smell, from the fresh straw under the carpets: of -the children, who scampered along by the sides of the carriage calling -out "Tà-tà"--as short for Carità: of my mother screaming at Ferrara as -she ran away from a white spectral figure, with eyes gleaming out of -holes in a peaked hood and rattling a money-box--a figure to which we -became well accustomed afterwards as a _Frate della Misericordia_: of -the great castle of Ferrara, whose picturesque outlines seemed so -strangely familiar till I recollected where I had seen them--at the -bottom of willow-patterned washing-basins. - -[Illustration: IN S. APOLLINARE NUOVO, RAVENNA.[120]] - -Ravenna was at this time reached by a wearisome journey through marshy -flats overgrown by a dark-berried plant much used in the making of dye: -we afterwards imported it to Hurstmonceaux. The Stanleys, whom we seldom -contradicted, had greatly opposed our going thither, so that our journey -to Ravenna had the charm of eating forbidden fruit; but I was able to -silence their angry reproaches afterwards for having "taken my mother -into so unhealthy a climate" by finding in Gibbon the remark that -Ravenna, though situated in the midst of fœtid marshes, possesses one -of the most salubrious climates in Italy! My mother was even more -enchanted with the wonderful old city than myself, especially with the -peerage of martyrs in the long palm-bearing procession in the mosaics of -S. Apollinare Nuovo, and with the exquisite and ever-varied loveliness -of the Pineta. - -Deeply interesting was the historical journey afterwards along the -shores of the Adriatic--the sunset on the Metaurus--the proud ruins of -Roman Rimini, where also we went to see the soft lustrous picture known -as "the winking Virgin," and accidentally met the father of the painter -in the church--the Rubicon and Pesaro; Sinigaglia and Fano; and the -exquisitely beautiful approach to Ancona, with the town climbing up the -steep headland crowned by the cathedral, and the blue sea covered with -shipping. In many ways Ancona has always seemed to me more beautiful -than Naples. I have seen much of all these towns since, but there is -nothing now like the halcyon days of _vetturino_ travelling, with the -abundant time for seeing and digesting everything, and the quiet regular -progression, without fuss or fatigue, or anything to mar mental -impressions. - -From Ancona we went to Loreto, a lovely drive then, through ranges of -hills, sweeping one behind another like files of an advancing army, and -crested sometimes by the picturesque roofs, domes, and towers of an old -town; sometimes clothed to their summits with olives and pines, -vineyards and mulberry-gardens. Here and there a decayed villa stood by -the roadside in its overgrown garden, huge aloes and tall cypresses -rising from its tangled grass and periwinkles. Very lovely was the -ascent to Osimo, thronged with the students of the old university town -in their black cloaks, amongst whom was the Cardinal-bishop, going for a -walk in crimson stockings, sash, and gloves, with two footmen in cocked -hats strutting behind him. - -[Illustration: LORETO.[121]] - -Nothing can be grander than the situation of Loreto, and the views from -it over the surrounding country--the walls overlooking a wide sea-view -as well. A building like a huge castle, with massive semicircular -towers, dominates the town, and is the fortress which guards the holy of -holies--the Santa Casa. We were called at five to go to the church. It -was still pitch dark, but many pilgrims had already arrived, and waited -with us in a corridor till the doors were opened. The scene inside was -most singular--the huge expanse quite dark, except where a blaze of -light under the dome illuminated the marble casing of the Santa Casa, or -where a solitary lamp permitted a picture or an image to loom out of -the chaos. The great mass of pilgrims knelt together before the shrine, -but here and there a desolate figure, with arms outstretched in -agonising prayer, threw a long weird shadow down the pavement of the -nave, while others were crawling on hands and knees round the side walls -of the house, occasionally licking up the sacred dust with their -tongues, which left a bloody trail upon the floor. At either door of the -House, the lamplight flashed upon the drawn sword of a soldier, keeping -guard to prevent too many people pressing in together, as they -ceaselessly passed in single file upon their knees, to gaze for a few -seconds upon the rugged walls of unplastered brick, blackened with soot, -which they believed to be the veritable walls of the cottage at -Nazareth. Here, in strange contrast, the negress statue, attributed to -St. Luke, gleams in a mass of diamonds. At the west end of the House was -the window by which the angel entered! The collection of jewels and -robes in the sacristy was enormous, though the priests lamented bitterly -to us over the ravages of the Revolution, and that now the Virgin had -only wardrobe sufficient to allow of her changing her dress _once_ -instead of three times every day of the year. - -[Illustration: MACERATA.[122]] - -We travelled afterwards through a country seldom visited now--by -hill-set Macerata and Recanati, and picturesque Tolentino with its -relics of S. Nicolas, into the central Apennines, where Sabbatarianism -doomed us to spend a most miserable Sunday at the unspeakably wretched -inn of La Muccia. From Foligno we made an excursion to Assisi, then -filled with troops of stately Franciscan monks--all "_possidenti_;" and -by the Clitumnus temple, Spoleto, and Narni to Terni. At Civita -Castellana the famous robber chief Gesparoni was imprisoned at this -time, this year being the thirty-third of his imprisonment. Miss Cole -and I obtained an order to visit him and his band, tall gaunt forms in a -large room in the castle. The chieftain had a long white beard: we -bought a little knitted cap of his workmanship. There was a ghastly -sensation in being alone for a few minutes with this gang of men, who -had all been murderers, and mostly murderers of many. - -Breathlessly interesting was the first approach to Rome--the -characteristic scenery of the Campagna, with its tufa quarries, and its -crumbling towers and tombs rising amidst the withered thistles and -asphodels; its strange herds of buffaloes; then the faint grey dome -rising over the low hills, and the unspoken knowledge about it, which -was almost too much for words; lastly, the miserable suburb and the -great Piazza del Popolo. - -I never shall forget the ecstasy of awaking the next morning in the -Hôtel d'Angleterre, and feeling that the longed-for desire of many years -was realised. We engaged apartments in the upper floor of the Palazzo -Lovati in the Piazza del Popolo--cold dreary rooms enough, but from my -mother's bedroom there was a lovely view to St. Peter's across the -meadows of S. Angelo. - -[Illustration: CIVITA CASTELLANA.[123]] - -Naturally one of my first visits was to Mrs. Hare and my sister, whom I -found established in the first floor of the Palazzo Parisani, which -occupies two sides of the little Piazza S. Claudio, a dismal little -square, but which my sister regarded with idolatry, asserting that there -was no house half so delightful as the Palazzo Parisani, no view which -could be compared in interest to that of the Piazza S. Claudio. Making -acquaintance with my sister at this time was to me like the perpetual -reading of an engrossing romance, for nobody ever was more amusing, no -one ever had more power of throwing an interest into the commonest -things of life. She did not colour her descriptions, but she saw life -through a prism, and imparted its rays to others. Her manner, her dress, -all her surroundings were poetical. If one went to dine with her, the -dinner was much the same as we had at home, but some picturesquely hung -grapes, or a stalk of _finocchio_, or some half-opened pomegranates, -gave the table an _air_ which made it all seem quite different. - -"Italima" liked my coming and going, and was very angry if I did not -come, though she never professed any maternal affection for me. I often -found myself in difficulties between my two mothers. My adopted mother -would sometimes take an alarm that I was going too often to Italima, and -would demand my presence just on the particular occasion when "Italima" -had counted upon it; in which case I always gave way to her. And indeed, -as a rule, I always spent _all_ my time with my mother, except about two -evenings in the week, when I went to Italima and the Palazzo Parisani. -On rare occasions, also, I went out "into the world" with Italima and -my sister, to balls at the Palazzo Borghese, and at the Palazzo di -Spagna, where old Queen Christina of Spain was then living, an -interesting historic figure to me as the sister of the Duchesse de Berri -and great-niece of Marie Antoinette. She was very hospitable, and her -parties, approached through an avenue of silver candelabra representing -palm-trees--spoils from the Spanish convents--were exceedingly -magnificent. At her suppers on Fridays, one side of the room was laid -for "_maigre_," the other for "_gras_," and when the doors were opened, -there was a general scrimmage to reach the delicious viands on the -"_maigre_" table. After each of her receptions, it was the rule that -five cards should be left by each guest--for herself, for her husband -the Duc de Rianzares (who had been a common soldier), for her master of -the household, for her equerry, and for her lady-in-waiting. The -principal balls were those given by Princess Borghese, at which many -cardinals were present, but would sit down to whist in a room apart from -the dancers. A great feature of the Borghese parties at this time was -the Princess-mother, who always sat in a conspicuous place in the -anteroom, and to whom all the guests were expected to pay their court. -By birth she was Adèle de la Rochefoucauld, and she was the mother of -three princes--Marc-Antonio Borghese, Aldobrandini, and Salviati. She -was "sage, souple, et avide des biens," as Voltaire says of Mazarin, and -it was she who--probably most unjustly--had then the reputation of -having poisoned the beautiful Princess Guendolina, first wife of -Marc-Antonio, with all her sons, in order that her own son might marry -her niece, Thérèse[124] de la Rochefoucauld, which he afterwards did. A -conspicuous figure was the beautiful young Princess del Drago, one of -the daughters of Queen Christina's second marriage, whose husband had a -most fiendish face. I often saw the blind Duke of Sermoneta, celebrated -for his knowledge of Dante, and his witty canonical brother, Don Filippo -Caiëtani, generally known as "Don Pippo." The then Duchess of Sermoneta -was "Margherita," _née_ Miss Knight, a most ghastly and solemn woman to -outsiders, but much beloved by those who knew her intimately. - -The Prince of Piombino, who lived in exile or seclusion after the change -of government in Rome, was then flourishing in his immense palace in the -Corso, and his children, then young married people, were the life of -all the parties. Of these, Rudolfo, Duke of Sora, had married the -saint-like Agnese, only surviving child of Donna Guendolina Borghese, -who was supposed only by absence to have escaped the fate of her mother -and brothers. Of his sisters, Donna Carolina was the clever, brilliant -Princess Pallavicini, and Donna Giulia had married the Duke of Fiano, -who lived in the neighbouring palace, and by marrying her had broken the -heart of Mademoiselle Judith Falconnet.[125] - -One of the Romans whom I saw most frequently was the Princess Santa -Croce, living in the old historical palace which has the reputation of -being the only haunted house in Rome, where two statues of cardinals -come down from their pedestals and rattle their marble trains up and -down the long galleries. The Princess was one of the daughters of Mr. -Scully in Ireland. He had three, of whom two were beautiful, clever, and -brilliant, but the third was uninteresting. The two elder Miss Scullys -went out into the world, and were greatly admired and much made of; but -the youngest stayed at home like Cinderella, and was never known at all -except as "the Miss Scullys' younger sister." Many people wished to -marry the elder Miss Scullys; but they said "No, for we have a -presentiment that we are to marry dukes, and therefore we will wait." -But no dukes came forward, and at length old Mr. Scully died, leaving -his daughters three great fortunes; and being Roman Catholics, without -any particular call or claim, they determined to visit Rome before they -settled in life. They took many introductions with them, and on their -arrival the good looks, cleverness, and wealth of the elder sisters -created quite a sensation; but people asked them, Roman-fashion, "what -was their vocation," for in Rome all Catholic ladies are expected to -have decided this. Then they said they had never thought of it, and they -went to spend a week in the convent of the Trinità de' Monti to consider -it. When the day came on which the three Miss Scullys were to declare -their vocation, all Rome was interested, and the "great world" thronged -the parlours of the Trinità de' Monti to hear it; but the expectants -were petrified when the two elder Miss Scullys came out, for they had -found their vocation, and it was a convent! No doubt whatever was felt -about the youngest--"of course she would follow her sisters." But no; -she had found her vocation, and it was marriage! and the youngest Miss -Scully, additionally enriched by half the fortunes of her two elder -sisters, went out into the world, and in three weeks she had accepted -the great Roman Prince of Santa Croce, who claims descent from Valerius -Publicola. I often used to watch with interest the Princess Santa Croce, -who went to confess and pray at the convent of the Villa Lante (which -Roman princesses are wont to frequent), for the two portresses who -opened the doors were her two elder sisters, the proud Miss Scullys: it -was the story of Cinderella in real life. I was at Rome years afterwards -(1864) when the Princess Santa Croce died. All the princesses lie in -state after death, but by old custom, the higher their rank, the lower -they must lie, and the Princess Santa Croce was of such excessively high -rank, that she lay upon the bare boards. - -I think that it was towards the middle of our stay in Rome that I -received a summons to a private audience of Pius IX. Italima and my -sister went with me. We went in evening dress to the Vatican in the -middle of the day, and were shown into a gallery where a number of -Monsignori were standing. Amongst them was Monsignore Talbot, who asked -me if I did not feel very much agitated. I said "No," and he answered, -"But every one must be agitated when they are about to stand in the -presence of the Vicar of Christ"--and at that moment he drew aside a -portière, and we found ourselves at one end of a long hall, at the other -end of which a sturdy figure with a beneficent face, in what looked like -a white dressing-gown, was standing leaning his hand upon a table: it -was Pius IX. We had been told beforehand that, as we had asked for a -_private_ audience, we must perform all the genuflections, three at the -doorway, three in the middle of the room, and three at the feet of the -Pope, and the same in returning; and Italima had declared that the -thought of this made her so nervous that we must do all the talking. But -Italima had often been to the Pope before, and she was so active and -agile, that by the time my sister and I got up from the third -genuflection in the doorway, she was already curvetting in the centre of -the hall, and we heard the beautiful voice of the Pope, like a silver -bell, say, "E come sta la figlia mia--e come sta la cara figlia mia," -and by the time we were in the middle of the apartment she was already -at the feet of the Pope. Eventually my sister and I arrived, and flung -ourselves down, one on each side of Italima, at the feet of the Pope, -who gave us his ring to kiss, and his foot, or rather a great raised -gold cross upon his white slipper. "E questa la figlia?" he said, -pointing to my sister. "Si, Sua Santità," said Italima. "Ed e questo il -figlio?" he said, turning to me. "Si, Sua Santità," said Italima. Then -my sister, who thought it was a golden opportunity which she would never -have again, and which was not to be lost, broke through all the rules of -etiquette, and called out from the other side of the daïs, clasping her -hands, "Ma, Sua Santità, il mio fratello e stato Protestant." - -Then the Pope turned to me and spoke of the great privilege and blessing -of being a Catholic, but said that from what he had heard of me he felt -that I did not deserve that privilege, and that therefore he could not -wish that I should enjoy its blessings. He said much more, and then -that, before I left, I should make him a "piccolo piccolino promessino" -(the least little bit of a promise in the world), and that I should -remember all my life that I had made it at the feet of Pius IX. I said -that I should wish to do whatever Sua Santità desired, but that before I -engaged to make a promise I should like to know what the promise was to -be about. "Oh," said the Pope, smiling, "it is nothing so very -difficult; it is only something which a priest in your own Church might -ask: it is that you will say the Lord's Prayer every morning and -evening." "Yes," I replied, "I shall be delighted to make Sua Santità -the promise; but perhaps Sua Santità is not aware that the practice is -not unusual in the Church of England." Then, almost severely for one so -gentle, the Pope said, "You seem to think the promise a light one; I -think it a very serious one; in fact, I think it so serious, that I will -only ask you to promise to use one petition--'Fiat voluntas tua, O Deus, -in terris ut in cœlo,' and remember that you have promised that at -the feet of Pius IX." Then he blended his farewell very touchingly into -a beautiful prayer and blessing; he blessed the things--rosaries, -&c.--which my sister had brought with her; he again gave us his ring and -the cross on his foot to kiss, and while he rang the little bell at his -side, we found our way out backwards--quite a geometrical problem with -nine genuflections to be made on the way. - -I was often in the convent of the Trinità when I was at Rome in 1857, -for visitors are allowed there at certain hours, and a great friend of -my sister's, Adèle, Madame Davidoff, was then in the convent, having -been sent to Rome on an especial mission to the Pope on matters -connected with the French convents of the Sacré Cœur. Madame Davidoff -("Madame" only "in religion," as "a spouse of Christ") was daughter of -the Maréchale Sebastiani, the stepmother of the murdered Duchesse de -Praslin, and was grand-daughter of the Duchesse de Grammont, who founded -the Sacré Cœur. Her own life had been very romantic. One winter there -was a very handsome young Count Schouvaloff in Rome, whom my sister knew -very well. She had been one day in the convent, and Madame Davidoff had -accompanied her to the outer door, and was standing engrossed with last -words, leaning against the green baize door leading into the church. -Suddenly a man appeared, coming through the inner door of the convent, -evidently from visiting the Abbess. "Mais c'est le Comte Schouvaloff!" -said Madame Davidoff to my sister, and pushing the baize door behind -her, suddenly disappeared into the church, while Schouvaloff, seeing her -suddenly vanish, rushed forward to my sister exclaiming, "Oh, c'est -elle--c'est elle! Oh, mon Adèle, mon Adèle!" He had been on the eve of -marriage with her, when she had thought herself suddenly seized by a -conventual vocation, had taken the veil, and he had never seen her -since. The next day Count Schouvaloff left Rome. He went into retreat -for some time at the Certosa of Pavia, where total silence is the rule -of daily life. He took orders, and in a few years, having a wonderful -gift for preaching, was sent on a mission to Paris; but the shock of -returning to the scenes of his old life was too much for him, and in a -few days after reaching Paris he died. - -When I knew Madame Davidoff, she still possessed an extraordinary charm -of conversation and manner, and the most exuberant eloquence of any -person I have ever seen. Her one object was conversion to the Roman -Catholic faith, and into that she threw all her energies, all her charm -and wit, and even her affections. Her memory was as prodigious as that -of Macaulay, and she knew all the controversial portions of the great -Catholic writers by heart. What was more extraordinary still was, that -having many "cases" going on at the same time (for people used to go to -visit her and sit round her anteroom like patients at a fashionable -dentist's), she never confounded one with another in her mind, never -lost time, and always went on exactly where she left off. But her love -of ruling made Madame Davidoff less popular within the walls of her -convent than with the outside world; and after her return to Paris, the -means which she often took to attain the ends to which she devoted her -life brought such trouble to the convent of the Sacré Cœur, that the -nuns refused to keep her amongst them, and she afterwards lived in the -world, giving frequent anxiety to her sister, the Marquise de Gabriac, -and to Lord Tankerville and Lady Malmesbury, her cousins. During my -first visit at Rome, I saw Madame Davidoff often, and, after a courteous -expression of regret that I was sure to be eternally damned, she would -do her best to convert me. I believe my dear mother underwent great -qualms on my visits to her. But her religious unscrupulousness soon -alienated me, and I had a final rupture with her upon her urging me to -become a Roman Catholic secretly, and to conceal it from my adopted -mother as long as she lived. Other Roman Catholics who made a vehement -effort for my perversion were Monsignor Talbot and Monsignor Howard, the -latter of whom I had known as a very handsome dashing young guardsman a -few years before, but who afterwards became a Cardinal. There was a -most ridiculous scene when they came to the Palazzo Lovati, where -Monsignor Howard made so violent a harangue against Protestantism that -Monsignor Talbot was obliged to apologise for him. Roman Catholics with -whom we were intimate from circumstances were the ex-Jew Mr. Goldsmid -and his wife. Mr. Goldsmid had been converted by the Père Ratisbon, -whose own conversion was attributed partially to the image of the Virgin -in the Church of Andrea delle Fratte, and partly to the prayers of M. de -la Ferronays, which are believed to have endowed the image with speech. - -A really excellent Roman Catholic priest of whom I saw much was -Monsignor Pellerin, Bishop in Cochin-China. His conversation was liberal -and beautiful, and he had the simplicity of a mediæval saint. He was at -that time about to return to China, with a great probability of -martyrdom. On his last day in Rome he celebrated mass in the Catacombs -in the Chapel of Santa Cecilia, a most touching sight even to those who -were not of his faith. On taking leave, he gave me a small silver -crucifix, which I treasured for a long time, then it disappeared: I -always thought that Lea made away with it, in the fear that it might -make me a Roman Catholic. I heard of the close of Monsignor Pellerin's -self-sacrificing life in China several years later. - -Amongst the English we had many pleasant friends, especially the George -Cavendishes and the Greene Wilkinsons, who had a great fortune left to -them for opening a pew-door to an old gentleman: it used to be said that -they ought to take "Pro Pudor" as their motto. - -But no notice of our familiar society at Rome can be complete which does -not speak of "Auntie"--Miss Paul--the sister of "Italima," who lived her -own life apart in two rooms in a corner of the Parisani Palace, where -she saw and observed everything, and was very ready to make her quaint -original remarks upon what she had observed when she joined the rest of -the family, which was only in the evenings. I never saw "Auntie" -otherwise than desperately busy, sometimes with immense rolls of -embroidery, sometimes with charcoal-drawing, often with extraordinary -and most incomprehensible schemes for recovering the very large fortune -she had once possessed, and which she had lost in "the Paul Bankruptcy." -Italima was not at all kind to her, but this did not affect her in the -least: she went her own way, and when she was most soundly abused, it -only seemed to amuse her. My sister she absolutely adored, and then and -afterwards used to think it perfect happiness to sit and watch her for -hours, not being able to hear a word she said on account of her -deafness. I was exceedingly fond of "Auntie," and used to delight to -escape from the ungenial atmosphere of Italima's great drawing-room to -the busy little den in the corner of the palace, where I was always a -welcome visitor, and always found something amusing going on. - -When we arrived in Rome, my sister Esmeralda was supposed to be -partially engaged to Don Emilio Rignano, eldest son of the Duke Massimo, -whom she had known well from childhood. Emilio at one time passed every -evening at the Palazzo Parisani; but during this winter Donna Teresa -Doria appeared in the world, and the old Duchess Massimo, who hated -Anglo-Roman alliances, by a clever scheme soon compelled her son to -consent to an engagement with her. Having learnt this, Esmeralda refused -ever to receive Emilio again. On the day before his marriage, however, -he found her in the Church of S. Claudio, and tried to make her marry -him at once by the easy Roman form, "Ecco il mio marito--Ecco la mia -moglie," but she would not listen to him. Then, when she drove to the -Villa Borghese, he pursued the carriage, regardless of the people in the -street. His hat fell off, but he would not stop: he seemed to have lost -his senses. - -At a marriage in high life in Rome, the guests are often asked, not to -the actual ceremony, but to St. Peter's afterwards, to see the bridal -pair kiss the foot of the famous statue. When the Duke and Duchess -Rignano entered St. Peter's, they were piteous to see: they would not -look at each other. Old Lady Rolle was there, standing by the statue, -and when they came near she said audibly, "What a wicked scene! what a -sinful marriage!" And Emilio heard her, gave her one look of agony, and -flung himself down on the pavement in front of the statue. - -As Duchess Rignano, Teresa Doria was wretched. We saw her afterwards at -Genoa, in the old Doria Palace, with her mother, whose death was -hastened by the sight of her daughter's woe and her own disappointed -ambition. Before long the Duchess Teresa was separated from her husband. -Her tragical fate was a good thing for her sisters: the second sister, -Guendolina, made a happy marriage with the Conte di Somaglia in the -Marchi, and the youngest, Olimpia, was allowed to remain long unmarried. -This last daughter of the house of Doria was described by her mother as -so very small when she was born, that they swathed her in flannel and -laid her in the sun, in the hope that it would make her grow like a -plant. I was one day at the house of Mrs. de Selby, cousin of Princess -Doria, when her servant threw open the door and announced in a -stentorian voice, _allo Romano_--"La sua Eccellenza l'illustrissima -Principessina la Donna Olimpia di Doria,"--and there marched in a -stately little maiden of eight years old! - -Cardinal Antonelli obtained an order for my sister and me to visit the -Madre Makrina, the sole survivor of the Polish nuns who were martyred -for their faith in the terrible persecution at Minsk. The nuns were -starved, flogged to death, buried alive, subjected to the most horrible -cruelties. Three escaped and reached Vienna, where two of them -disappeared and never were heard of again. After a series of -unparalleled adventures and escapes, the Abbess, the Madre Makrina, -arrived in Rome. Pope Gregory XVI. received her kindly, but made her -tell her whole story once for all in the presence of sixty witnesses, -who all wrote it down at once to ensure accuracy, and then he shut her -up, for fear she should be turned into a saint and object of pilgrimage. -It was not generally known what had become of the Madre Makrina--it was -a mystery in Rome--but we were able to trace her to the tiny convent of -the Monacche Polacche, which has since been destroyed by the Sardinian -Government, but which then stood near the Arch of Gallienus, nearly -opposite the Church of S. Eusebio. Italima wished to go with us, but we -could only obtain an order for two. When we rang the convent bell and -had shown our permit through the grille, a portress from within drew a -bolt which admitted us to a little room--den rather--barred with iron, -and with an iron cage at one side, behind which the portress, a very fat -old woman, reappearing, asked us many questions about ourselves, the -Pope, the state of Rome generally. At last we got tired and said, "But -shall we not soon see the Madre Makrina?"--"_Io_ sono la Madre Makrina," -said the old woman, laughing. Then we said, "Oh, do tell us the story of -Minsk."--"No," she replied, "I promised at the feet of Pope Gregory XVI. -that I would never tell that story again: the story is written down, -you can read it, but I cannot break my promise."--"How dreadfully you -must have suffered at Minsk," we said. "Yes," she answered, and, going -backwards, she pulled up her petticoats and showed us her legs, which -were enormously fat, yet, a short distance above the ankles, were quite -eaten away, so that you could see the bones. "This," she said, "was -caused by the chains I wore at Minsk." The Madre Makrina, when we took -leave, said, "I am filled with wonder as to how you got admittance. I -have never seen any one before since I came here, and I do not suppose I -shall ever see any one again, so I will give you a little memorial of -your visit!" and she gave me a tiny crucifix and medal off her chain. I -have it still. - -When the Emperor Nicholas came to Rome, he went to pay his respects to -the Pope, who received him very coldly. "You are a great king," said -Pius IX. "You are one of the mightiest monarchs in the world, and I am a -feeble old man, the servant of servants; but I cite you to meet me -again, to meet me before the throne of the Judge of the world, and to -answer _there_ for your treatment of the nuns at Minsk." - -But of the gathering up of reminiscences of Roman life there is no end, -and, after all, my normal life was a quiet one with my mother, driving -with her, sketching with her, sitting with her in the studio of the -venerable Canevari,[126] who was doing her portrait, spending afternoons -with her in the Medici gardens, in the beautiful Villa Wolkonski, or in -the quiet valley near the grove and grotto of Egeria. - -In the mornings we generally walked on the Pincio, and there often -noticed a family of father, mother, and daughter working on the terrace, -as the custom then was, at rope-making. One day a carriage passed and -re-passed with a solitary gentleman in it, who at last, as if he could -no longer restrain himself, jumped out and rushed towards the group -exclaiming, "C'est elle! c'est elle!" Then he became embarrassed, -retired, and eventually sent his servant to beg that the mother would -bring some of her cord to his house the next morning. She obeyed, and on -entering his apartment was struck at once by a portrait on the wall. -"That is the picture of my daughter," she said. "No," he replied, "that -is the portrait of my dead wife." He then proceeded to say that he must -from that time consider himself affianced to her daughter, for that in -her he seemed to see again his lost wife, and he insisted on -establishing the old woman and her daughter in comfortable lodgings, -and hiring all kinds of masters for the latter, saying that he would go -away and leave her to her studies, and that in a year he should come -back to marry her, which he did. In England this would be a very -extraordinary story, but it was not thought much of at Rome. - -[Illustration: VALMONTONE.[127]] - -I have always found that the interests of Rome have a more adhesive -power than those of any other place, and that it is more difficult to -detach oneself from them; and even in this first winter, which was the -least pleasant I have spent there--the conflicting requirements of my -two mothers causing no small difficulty--I was greatly distressed when -my mother, in her terror of Madame Davidoff and Co., decided that we -must leave for Naples on the twenty-third of February. What an -unpleasant companion I was as we drove out of the Porta S. Giovanni in -the large carriage of the _vetturino_ Constantino, with--after the -custom of that time--a black Spitz sitting on the luggage behind to -guard it, which he did most efficaciously. I remember with a mental -shiver how piteously the wind howled over the parched Campagna, and how -the ruins looked almost frightful in the drab light of a sunless winter -morning. But though the cold was most intense, for the season really -was too early for such a journey, our spirits were revived by the -extreme picturesqueness of the old towns we passed through. In -Valmontone, where the huge Doria palace is, we met a ghastly funeral, an -old woman carried by the Frati della Misericordia on an open bier, her -withered head nodding to and fro with the motion, and priests--as Lea -said--"gibbering before her." Here, from the broad deserted terrace in -front of the palace, we looked over the mountains, with mists drifting -across them in the wind; all was the essence of picturesqueness, -raggedness, ignorance, and filth. By Frosinone and Ceprano--then the -dreary scene of the Neapolitan custom-house--we reached San Germano, -where the inn was in those days most wretched. In our rooms we were not -only exposed to every wind that blew, but to the invasions of little -Marianina, Joannina, and Nicolina, who darted in every minute to look at -us, and to the hens, who walked about and laid their eggs under the bed -and table. Most intensely, however, did we delight in the beauties of -the glorious ascent to Monte Cassino and in all that we saw there. - -How well I remember the extreme wretchedness of our mid-day -halting-places in the after journey to Capua, and wonder how the -pampered Italian travellers of the present day would put up with them; -but in those days we did not mind, and till it was time to go on again, -we drew the line of old crones sitting miserably against the inn-wall, -rocking themselves to and fro in their coloured hoods, and cursing us in -a chorus of-- - - "Ah, vi pigli un accidente - Voi che non date niente," - -if we did not give them anything. - -[Illustration: ROCCA JANULA, ABOVE SAN GERMANO.[128]] - -While we were at Naples, every one was full of the terrible earthquake -which in December had been devastating the Basilicata. Whole towns were -destroyed. It was as after a deep snow in England, which covers fields -and hedges alike; you could not tell in the mass of débris whether you -were walking over houses or streets. The inhabitants who escaped were -utterly paralysed, and sat like Indian Brahmins with their elbows on -their knees, staring in vacant despair. Hundreds were buried alive, who -might have been extricated if sufficient energy had been left in the -survivors. Others, buried to the middle, had the upper part of their -bodies burnt off by the fire which spread from the ruined houses, and -from which they were unable to escape. Thousands died afterwards from -the hunger and exposure. - -Whilst we were at Naples my mother lost her gold watch. We believed it -to have been stolen as we were entering the Museo Borbonico, and gave -notice to the police. They said they could do nothing unless we went to -the King of the Thieves, who could easily get it back for us: it would -be necessary to make terms with him. So a _ragazaccio_[129] was sent to -guide us through one of the labyrinthian alleys on the hill of St. Elmo -to a house where we were presented to the King of Thieves. He mentioned -his terms, which we agreed to, and he then said, "If the watch has been -stolen anywhere within twelve miles round Naples, you shall have it in -twenty-four hours." Meanwhile the watch was found by one of the custodes -of the Museo at the bottom of that bronze vase in which you are supposed -to hear the roaring of the sea; my mother had been stooping down to -listen, and the watch had fallen in. But the story is worth mentioning, -as the subserviency of the police to the King of the Thieves was -characteristic of public justice under Ferdinand II. - - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Sorrento, March 7, 1858._--Some people say Sorrento is the most - beautiful place in the world, and I believe that even my - town-loving sister, if she could gaze over the golden woods in the - sunset of this evening, and see the crimson smoke float over dark - Vesuvius and then drift far over the blue sea, would allow it to be - more inspiring than the Piazza S. Claudio! Then to-day the mother - and her three companions have been riding on donkeys to the lovely - Vigna Sersale through a fringe of coronilla and myrtle, anemones - and violets.... It is a comfort here to be free from the begging - atmosphere of Naples, for in Sorrento people do not beg; they only - propose 'mangiare maccaroni alla sua salute.'" - - - "_April 4._--We have had a charming cruise in the 'Centaur'--the - sea like glass, the view clear. Captain Clifford sent his boat to - fetch us, and we sat on deck in arm-chairs, as if on land. In tiny - fishing-boats, lying flat on our backs, we entered the Grotta - Azurra (of Capri), like a magical cavern peopled with phantoms, - each face looking livid as the boats floated over the deep blue - water. Then we scrambled up to the fortress-palace of Tiberius, our - ascent being enlivened by a tremendous battle between the - midshipmen and the donkey-women, who finally drew their stilettos! - - "Amalfi is most romantic and lovely. We were there ten days, and - spent the mornings in drawing amongst the purple rocks and sandy - bays, and the afternoons in riding up the mountain staircases to - the Saracenic rock-built castles and desolate towns. - - "The mother thinks I have grown dreadfully worldly under your - influence, and that my love for wild-flowers is the only hopeful - sign remaining!" - -[Illustration: CAPRI.[130]] - -[Illustration: PÆSTUM.[131]] - -From Salerno we made a glorious expedition to Pæstum, but on our return -found our servant, John Gidman, alarmingly ill in consequence of a -sunstroke while fallen asleep on the balcony at Amalfi. His sufferings -were dreadful, and he remained between life and death for a long time, -and I believe was only eventually saved by the violent bleedings (so -often inveighed against) of an Italian doctor. This delayed us long at -the dull Salerno, and afterwards at La Cava, where I comforted myself -by much drawing at Salvator Rosa's grotto in the valley below the old -Benedictine convent. - -In May our companions returned to England, and having no one but -ourselves to consider, we planned to make our own northern _vetturino_ -journey as interesting as possible. I think it was a description in -"Dennis" which made us take the route by Viterbo and Orvieto, but we -went there and saw it with enthusiasm, as afterwards Perugia--to which -we zigzagged back across the Apennines, and Cortona, where the hill was -redolent with great wild yellow roses, and where I drew the tomb of S. -Margherita in the monastery, to the great delight of the monks, who -regaled us with snuff and wine. - -Whilst we were at Florence, living in the Casa Iandelli, I made a -delightful excursion to Vallombrosa, driving in a little carriage to -Pelago, and thence riding on a cart-horse up the forest-clothed mountain -by the rough track which emerges on a bright green lawn, then covered -with masses of lilies and columbine, and other spring flowers of every -description. All around the dark forests swept down from the mountains -towards the convent, where the hospitable monks entertained me with a -most excellent dinner, and the abbot showed the manuscripts. - -[Illustration: VALLOMBROSA.] - -On my return, I found my mother so convulsed with laughter that it was -long before she was able to explain the cause of it. At last she showed -me a letter in her hand, which was a violent declaration of love and -proposal of marriage from one Giorgio -Rovert--"bello--possidente--avocato"--who was even then waiting at -Siena to know if his "fiamme d'amore" was responded to, and if he might -hasten to Florence to throw himself at the feet of the object of his -adoration. For some time we were utterly bewildered, but at length -recollected that at Rome a young man had constantly followed the cousin -who was with us, had lifted the heavy curtains for her at the entrance -of the churches, found her places in a mass-book, &c., and we concluded -that he must have tracked her to the Palazzo Lovati, inquired of the -porter who lived there, and hearing it was "Mrs. Hare," had followed -_us_ to Florence. Lady Anne S. Giorgio coming in soon after to see us, -undertook to answer the letter, and did so most capitally; but Giorgio -Rovert did not break his heart, and within three weeks we heard of him -as proposing to old Lady Dillon! - -The Lady Anne S. Giorgio I have mentioned began at this time to fill a -great part in our life. She was a Roman Catholic, and used to say that -she had become so (at sixteen) on account of the poor apology which she -found made for Protestantism in Robertson's "Charles V.," which she had -been reading. After she was a widow, she became a member of a Tertiary -Order which binds its votaries to forsake the vanities of the world, to -wear a cross, and be dressed in black. She used to be very anxious for -my conversion, and have special prayers to that intent on St. -Augustine's Day. She read through Madame de Sévigné every year, and her -library of books excited the astonishment of her poorer neighbours, who -said, "O la Contessa e tanto buona; legge sempre; prega sempre; e tanto -buona," for they cannot understand any one reading anything but -religious books. - -Lady Anne was one of the daughters of that beautiful Lady Oxford whose -offspring were named "the Harleian Miscellany." Lady Oxford lived at -Genoa with her daughters, leaving Lord Oxford in England, and during her -Italian life had many strange adventures, and one of a most terrible -kind, the story of which was related to me by Dr. Wellesley, who was -present at the time, but I will omit it. Of the weird stories of the -other sisters I will say nothing, but Lady Anne in her youth was engaged -to a young Italian, who, with the ugly name of Boggi, was yet of a very -good family. However, before they could be married, Boggi died, and the -Harleys returned to England. While there, Lady Anne wished to marry her -music-master, but her family would not hear of it, and by the harshness -of their opposition made her life miserable. Having striven vainly for -some years to win the consent of her family, Lady Anne wrote to Madame -Boggi, the mother of her late betrothed, with whom she had always kept -up a communication, to say that she was in wretched health and spirits, -that she required change terribly, and that she was very unhappy because -her family violently opposed her marriage with a very excellent young -Italian--but she did not say who he was. Madame Boggi replied by saying -that nothing could give her greater happiness than having her dearest -Annie with her, and imploring her to come out to her at once. The Harley -family consented, thinking that the change might cure Lady Anne's -heartache, and she went out to Madame Boggi, who had always said that -she looked upon her as a daughter because she was once engaged to her -dead son. - -While Lady Anne was with Madame Boggi, she heard that her Italian lover -had returned to Italy to join his friends, but that he had been stopped -by illness at some place in the north of Italy, and was lying in a very -critical condition. I cannot say how Lady Anne persuaded Madame Boggi, -but she did persuade her to consent to her going off to nurse her lover, -and, unmarried girl as she was, she nursed him through all his illness. -He died, but his brother, who came to him when he was dying, was so -touched by Lady Anne's devotion, that he afterwards proposed to her, and -she married him. - -The husband of Lady Anne was only a "cavaliere." They were dreadfully -poor, and lived at a little farm somewhere in the hills above Spezia, -where two boys and a girl were born. But Lady Anne did not mind poverty; -she fattened her chickens and pigs for market, she studied botany and -all the ologies by herself, and she taught her children. After she -became a widow, she heard one day that her father, Lord Oxford, from -whom she had been separated from childhood, was passing through Italy, -and she threw herself in his way upon the staircase in the inn at -Sarzana. When he found who she was, he was delighted both with her and -her children. He said, "I have done nothing for you hitherto, and I can -do nothing for you after my death, for my affairs are arranged and they -cannot be altered; but whatever you ask me to do _now_ shall be -granted." "Then," said Lady Anne, "you have always looked down upon me -and despised me, because my husband was a simple 'cavaliere.' You are -going to Rome: get me created a Countess in my own right, and then you -will despise me no more." And Lord Oxford went to Rome, and, by his -personal influence with the Pope, to whom he had great opportunities of -being useful, his daughter Anne was created a Countess in her own right, -and her sons became titular Counts and her daughter a Countess. - -It was in this summer of 1858, while we were at Florence, that Lady Anne -came to "Italima" (for she had known my father intimately in her palmy -days) and said, "You know how I have lived like a hermit in my -'_tenuto_,' and meanwhile here is Carolina grown up, and Carolina must -marry somebody, and that somebody you must find, for you are almost the -only person I know." And, to her surprise, Italima was able to answer, -"It is really very odd, but Mrs. de Selby, the cousin of the Princesses -Doria and Borghese, was here this morning, and she said, 'Here is -Roberto, and I want to find somebody for him to marry. I do not want a -fortune, we have plenty of money, but it must be a girl of good family, -and if she is partly English so much the better.'" - -We went to the betrothal dinner of Robert Selby and Carolina di S. -Giorgio, and afterwards we ran about the Torrigiani gardens in the still -summer evening, and made round our straw hats wreaths of the fireflies, -which, when they are once fixed, seldom fly away. Carolina was -afterwards a great friend of ours, and most entertaining and clever. She -could imitate an old priest scolding and taking snuff so exactly, that -if you shut your eyes you thought one must be in the room; and she used -to create for herself little dramas and tragedies, in which she was as -pathetic as she was at other times comic. As a mother she was most -unfortunate. Several of her children were poisoned by eating "fungi" at -a trattoria outside the Porta del Popolo, and she herself nearly died -from the same cause. After Robert Selby's death she married again, and -went to live at Leghorn. - -I was very sorry afterwards that during this visit we never saw Mrs. -Browning, who died in 1861, before we were at Florence again. We used to -hear much of her--of her peculiar appearance, with her long curls, and -(from illness) her head always on one side; of the infinite charm of her -conversation; of her interest in spiritualism; how she would endeavour -to assert her belief in it in her little feeble voice, upon which -Browning would descend in his loud tones; but they were perfectly -devoted to each other. - -Another person whom we often saw at Florence was the foolish wife of our -dear old Landor, who never ceased to describe with fury his passionate -altercations with her, chiefly caused apparently by jealousy. Landor was -still living at Bath at this time. - -In the Cascine at Florence we found the same old flower-woman who had -been there when I was a baby in the Prato, where I was taught to walk. -She used to drive to the Cascine with her flowers in a smart carriage -with a pair of horses, and would smile and kiss her hands to us as we -passed. It was contrary to good Florentine manners not to accept the -flowers which she offered to every one she saw when she arrived where -the carriages were waiting, but they were never paid for at the time; -only a present was sent occasionally, or given by foreigners when they -left Florence, and she came to the station to see them off and present a -farewell bouquet. I merely mention these customs because they are -probably dying out, perhaps are already extinct. - -My cousin Lady Normanby was at this time resident in her beautiful -Florentine villa, with its lovely garden of roses and view over -Florence, and she was very kind to us. - -We were at Florence this year during the festival of Corpus Domini, and -saw that curious procession, chiefly consisting of little boys in white -dominos, and brown monks and brothers of the Misericordia; but, -following the Archbishop under his canopy, came the Grand Duke on foot, -with all the male members of the Corsini and Guicciardini families, and -the young Archdukes in white satin trains. - -We saw also the Foundling Hospital, where all the children were brought -up and nursed by goats, and where, when the children cried, the goats -ran and gave them suck. - -About the 10th of June we settled at Lucca baths, in the pleasant little -Casa Bertini, a primitive house more like a farm-house than a villa, on -the steep hillside above the Grand Duke's palace, possessing a charming -little garden of oleanders and apple-trees at the back, with views down -into the gorge of the river, and up into the hilly cornfields, which -were always open to us. Very delightful were the early mornings, when -the mother, with book and camp-stool, wandered up the hill-path, -fringed with flowers, to the Bagni Caldi. Charming too the evenings, -when, after "_merenda_" at four o'clock in the garden, we used to go -forth, with all the little society, in carriages or on horseback, till -the heavy dews fell, and drove us in by the light of the fireflies. A -most pleasant circle surrounded us. Close by, in a large cool villa with -a fountain, was the gentle invalid Mrs. Greville (_née_ Locke), singing -and composing music, with her pleasant companion Miss Rowland. Just -below, in the hotel of the villa, "Auntie" was living with the George -Cavendishes, and in the street by the river the pretty widow, Mrs. -Francis Colegrave, with her children, Howard and Florence, and her -sister Miss Chichester. - -An amusing member of the society at the Bagni, living in a cottage full -of curiosities, was Mrs. Stisted, the original of Mrs. Ricketts in "The -Daltons." She had set her heart upon converting the Duke of Parma to -Protestantism, and he often condescended to controversy with her. One -day she thought she had really succeeded, but driving into Lucca town -next day, to her horror she met him walking bare-headed in a procession -with a lighted candle in his hand. Then and there she stopped her -carriage and began to upbraid him. When he returned to the Bagni, he -went to see her and to reprove her. "There cannot," he said, "be two -sovereigns at Lucca; either I must be Duke or you must be Queen," and -ever after she was called the Queen of the Bagni. Colonel Stisted had a -number of curious autographs, the most interesting being the MS. of the -"Lines to an Indian air"--"I rise from dreams of thee"--found in the -pocket of Shelley after he was drowned. - -Living beneath us all this summer were the Grand Ducal family, and we -saw them constantly. They were greatly beloved, but the Grand -Duchess-Dowager, who was a Sardinian princess, was more popular than the -reigning Grand Duchess, who was a Neapolitan Bourbon, and ultimately -brought about the ruin of the family by her influence. The Grand -Duchess-Dowager was the step-mother of the Grand Duke, and also his -sister-in-law, having been sister-in-law of his first wife. The -Hereditary Grand Duke was married to her niece, a lovely Saxon princess, -who died soon afterwards: it was said that he treated her very ill, and -that his younger brother protected her. We were at a very pretty ball -which was given on the festa of S. Anna, her patroness. The Grand Ducal -family generally went out at the same hour as ourselves. In the middle -of the day nothing stirred except the scorpions, which were a constant -terror. One was found in my bath in the morning, and all that day we -were in fearful expectation, as the creatures never go about singly; but -in the evening we met the companion coming upstairs. There were also -quantities of serpents, which in the evening used frequently to be seen -crossing the road in a body going down to the river to drink. - -[Illustration: PONTE ALLA MADDALENA, LUCCA.][132] - -[Illustration: Augustus J. C. Hare. - -From a portrait by Canevari.] - -Every Friday afternoon we had a reception in our hill-set garden, and -our maid Quintilia set out tea and fruit, &c., in the summer-house. -At the gate a basket was held, into which every one dropped a story as -they entered, and they were all read aloud after tea. One day, one of -these stories, a squib on Ultra-Protestants written by the younger Miss -Cavendish, led to a great fracas with the George Cavendishes, Admiral -and Mrs. Cavendish being perfectly furious with my gentle mother, who of -all people was the most innocent, as she could not have an idea of what -was in the stories till they were read aloud. Well do I remember coming -round the corner of the villa, and finding the Admiral storming at her -as she sat upon her donkey, with "My daughters shall never enter your -house again--they shall never enter it again!" and her sweet smile as -she replied, "Then, Admiral Cavendish, I have only to thank you so very -much for having so often allowed them to come to me hitherto,"--and the -Admiral's subdued look afterwards. - -There was a little school established by the Grand Duchess just below -us, whither my mother sometimes went in the mornings. The children were -taught Scripture dialogues. One little girl would say to another, "Oh, -cara mia, cara amica mia, I have such a wonderful thing to tell you," -and then would narrate how a babe was born in Bethlehem, &c., upon -which the hearer would exclaim, "O Gran Dio" in her amazement, and on -one occasion, with a cry of "O cielo!" pretended to faint away with -astonishment in the most natural way imaginable. - -A long excursion from Lucca was that to Galicano, where a hermit with a -reputation of great sanctity was living under an overhanging cliff in -the mountains. He hid himself on our approach, but our large party -hunted him, and eventually unearthed him--an old dirty man in a brown -gown, with a chain of huge beads at his girdle. We wanted to see the -miraculous image of which he was guardian, but he would not show it -unless we were Catholics, and was much puzzled by my protesting that we -were, and my mother that we were not. However, at last he consented to -exhibit it, on condition that we all knelt, and that the ladies took off -their bonnets. We returned home much later than was expected, and so, as -we found afterwards, escaped seven bandits, who had been lying in wait -for us, and at last gave us up. The whole of the road from Lucca to -Galicano had then black crosses at intervals, commemorating the murders -committed there. - -This summer at Lucca was altogether the greatest halt in my life I have -ever known. We seemed so removed from the world, and I was more free -from family snubbings than I had ever been before. But, all through the -time we were there, I had been far from well, and the doctor who was -consulted declared that I could not survive the severities of an English -winter. In spite of this, my mother never flinched in her determination -to return, for having once taken the impression (without the remotest -reason) that I had a tendency to Roman Catholicism, she had a far -greater terror of what she considered as danger to my soul than of any -danger to my body. - -When we left the Bagni di Lucca on the 2nd of August, I left it in -despair. Behind us was a quiet, peaceful, and a far from useless life, -encircled by troops of friends, and supplying the literary and artistic -occupations in which I began to feel that I might possibly in time be -able to distinguish myself. Before me was the weary monotony of -Hurstmonceaux, only broken by visits from or to relations, by most of -whom I was disliked and slighted, if not positively ill-treated. I also -felt sure that all the influence of my aunts would be used with my -easily guided mother to force upon me the most uncongenial of -employments, which she was only too certain to allow them to advocate -as "especially desirable for Augustus, because they _were_ uncongenial!" -I was at this time also in more than usual disgrace, because disgust at -the sham Christians, sham Evangelicals, sham Protestants, with whom for -years I had been thrown, had induced me to avow my horror of Ordination. -In every way I felt myself unfitted for it. I wrote at this time--"'Some -fell upon stony places, where they had not much earth: and forthwith -they sprung up, because they had no depth of earth: and when the sun was -up, they were scorched; and, because they had no root, they withered -away.' If you want to know about my past religious 'impressions,' that -is just my story." Still the declaration of my determination not to take -Orders, dreaded and put off for years, cost me acutest suffering from -the pain and disappointment which I knew it inflicted upon my mother. - -When we left Casa Bertini and descended the steep hill to our carriages, -we found that the whole society had been amusing themselves by dressing -in mourning, and were waiting to sing "a dirge" of their own -composition, as we drove away. But we had one or two more happy days. On -the morning after our arrival at Lucca town, we were astonished by -sounds of loud singing in the passage, and going out, found all those we -had so recently parted from at the Bagni singing in chorus some more -verses which they had composed as "a serenade," and bringing for us a -picture of the Ponte alla Maddalena, painted on a stone out of the -river. We quickly determined to spend the day in going with them to -Pisa, and making an excursion to the Gombo, where the Pisan pines end in -the sands by the seashore--and we did not return till midnight. It was -the custom at Lucca for those who drew to make little sketches in the -travellers' book at the hotel, and I had amused myself by doing one the -day before, and inscribing it "View from the Walls of Lucca," though it -was a wretched performance. When we came back, we found a most lovely -drawing opposite, inscribed--"View from the Walls of Lucca as it really -is." The Grand Duke's artist had been at the hotel in the interval. - -[Illustration: PIETRA SANTA.[133]] - -We travelled then with delicious slowness, only rolling onwards through -the most glorious scenery in the cool mornings and evenings, and resting -in the heat of mid-day, while, as at this time we only took our carriage -from place to place, we had no scruple in halting for days at Pietra -Santa, with its glorious views over the mountains, and old convents -embosomed in olives and cypresses; in making excursions to Serravezza -and to dismal Carrara; in lingering at La Spezia, where the avenue of -oleanders was in full blaze of bloom, and driving thence to Porto Venere -with its marble church and wonderful views along the cliffs--blue, -green, yellow, and coral-red, descending abruptly into the sea. - - _To_ MY AUNT ELEANOR PAUL. - - "_Lucca, August 3, 1858._--Once upon a time there was a lady - advanced in years, who had an only child. They were sick and - sorrowful, and the tempests of the world beat upon them. Driven - from home, they wandered hither and thither, seeking rest and - finding none, till at length one day they arrived, wearied and - wayworn, at the entrance of a mountain valley. 'Alas!' they - whispered, 'what place is this?'--'Take courage,' answered the - trees and fountains; 'rejoice,' shouted the flowers, 'for this is - the Happy Valley, where those who enter rest from all sickness and - trouble: this is the place where people may have a halt in life, - and where care and anxiety do not exist.' And when they heard these - words, the countenances of the weary lady and her son were glad, - and the flowers and the trees and the fountains laughed and shouted - for joy in the ceaseless golden sunshine. For two months the - strangers rested in the Happy Valley, and then once more the - tempest howled to receive them, and the voices of the unseen - sternly bade them depart; and slowly and sadly they arose, and went - out again into the wilderness, where every solitary flower, every - mountain and stream, seemed only an echo from a lost and beautiful - past. - - "Oh, my auntie, do you know who the mother and son were, and what - was the Happy Valley to which they looked back with so much loving - regret?" - - - "_La Spezia, August_ 8.--We have been to Carrara. Do you know, my - auntie, that once upon a time there lived in the mountains of - Carrara a race of funny little people called Fanticelle? They were - the hobgoblins of the marble rocks, and were very merry, very - useful, and highly respected by every one. Each marble had its own - Fante; one was dressed in red, another in yellow, and others in - stripes of various colours; but the Fante of the white marble wore - only a simple dress as white as snow, and was greatly despised in - consequence by her companions, who were so fashionably attired. - Daily the poor white Fante was snubbed and insulted, and at last, - when the ancient Romans came to make quarries, and cut and hacked - her to pieces, and carried her remains away in carts, all the other - Fanti smiled in their cold satire and said, 'It only served the - vulgar creature right, for she did not even know how to dress - herself, and sitting upon the mountain with nothing on but her - night-dress was really quite indecorous.' - - "But when some years had passed, the great guardian spirit came to - the mountains, and, stretching forth his wings, he gathered all the - Fanti beneath them, and said, 'Now, my children, you shall go forth - to see the world, and, when you return, you shall each say what is - most highly esteemed by the lovers of art, and what it is that the - children of men consider most beautiful and best.' - - "Thus the Fanti of Carrara flew forth to see the world! They - alighted first in the square at Genoa. All around were huge and - stately palaces, and in the centre the statue of a hero, with the - world lying captive at his feet. But what the Fanti remarked most - was that in the most magnificent chambers of every palace, and - even upon the statue of the great Columbus himself, sat the - semblance of their despised sister the white Fante, as if enshrined - and honoured. 'Alas!' exclaimed the Fanti, 'what degraded notions - have these Genoese; let us examine places better worth our notice.' - So they came to Spain, and visited the Alhambra, but in every - court, and even on the Fountain of Lions itself, they found the - image of the white Fante seated before them. Thence they passed on - to London, to Paris, to Berlin, to Vienna, but it was ever the - same. In every gallery of statues, over the hearth of every palace, - upon the altar of every church, it seemed as if the white Fante was - reigning. 'Ah,' they exclaimed, 'can _all_ men be thus degraded? - can _all_ good taste be banished from the earth? Let us see one - more city nearer home, and from that let us form our judgment, for - the inhabitants of these northern cities are not worthy to be - ranked with mankind.' - - "So the Fanti came to Milan, and beneath the wings of the great - guardian spirit, rejoicing in their approaching triumph, they - entered its vast square. And behold the spirit drew back his wings, - and they beheld a mighty and an awful vision! Before them stood - their sister, the Fante of the milk-white rocks, but no longer - humble, no longer to be restrained even within the bounds of the - greatest palace upon earth. Majestic in beauty, invincible in - power, she raised her mighty wings to heaven in the aisles of a - vast cathedral, and mounted higher and higher as by an aërial - staircase, till, far above all human things, she flung her - snow-white tresses into the azure sky! - - "Then the Fanti of the coloured robes bowed their heads and - trembled, and acknowledged in penitence and humility--'Truly the - Fante of the white rocks is the most beautiful thing in the world!' - - "Who can go to Carrara, my auntie, and not feel this?" - -We were for a few days at Turin. The society there was then, as it is -still, the very climax of stagnation. One of its most admired ornaments -was a beautiful young Contessa la Marmora. She did nothing all day, -absolutely nothing, but sit looking pretty, with her chin leaning on her -hand. Her mother-in-law was rather more energetic than herself, and -hoping to rouse her, left a new "Journal des Modes" upon her table. Some -days after, she asked what she thought of it. "Alas!" said the young -Countess, with her beautiful head still leaning upon her hand, "I have -been so much occupied, that I never have found time to look into it." In -all my acquaintance since with Italian ladies, I have always found the -same, that they are all intensely occupied, but that it is in -doing--nothing! - -Since the dreadful epidemic at court, which swept away at once the -Queen, the Queen-Dowager, and the Duke of Genoa, the King had never -received, and as his eldest daughter, Madame Clotilde, was not old -enough to do so, there were no court parties. At the opera all the young -ladies sat facing the stage, and the old ladies away from it; but when -the ballet began there was a general change; the old ladies moved to the -front, and the young ones went behind. - -[Illustration: IL VALENTINO, TURIN.[134]] - -A great contrast to the Italians at Turin was Mr. Ruskin, whom we saw -constantly. He was sitting all day upon a scaffold in the gallery, -copying bits of the great picture by Paul Veronese. My mother was very -proud of my drawings at this time, and gave them to him to look at. He -examined them all very carefully and said nothing for some time. At last -he pointed out one of the cathedral at Perugia as "the least bad of a -very poor collection." One day in the gallery, I asked him to give me -some advice. He said, "Watch me." He then looked at the flounce in the -dress of a maid of honour of the Queen of Sheba for five minutes, and -then he painted one thread: he looked for another five minutes, and then -he painted another thread.[135] At the rate at which he was working he -might hope to paint the whole dress in ten years: but it was a lesson as -to examining what one drew well before drawing it. I said to him, "Do -you admire all Paul Veronese's works as you do this?" He answered, "I -merely think that Paul Veronese was ordained by Almighty God to be an -archangel, neither more nor less; for it was not only that he knew how -to cover yards of canvas with noble figures and exquisite colouring, it -was that it was all _right_. If you look at other pictures in this -gallery, or any gallery, you will find mistakes, corrected perhaps, but -mistakes of every form and kind; but Paul Veronese had such perfect -knowledge, he _never_ made mistakes." - -The Charles Bunsens were at Turin, and we dined with them. With Mrs. C. -Bunsen was her brother, whom we thought a very dull, heavy young man. -Long afterwards he became very well known as the French Ambassador, -Waddington. - -We saw Mr. Ruskin again several times in the Vaudois, whither we went -from Turin, and stayed for several days at La Tour, riding on donkeys to -the wild scene of the Waldensian battle in the valley of Angrogna, and -jolting in a carriage to the beautiful villages of Villar and -Bobbio--"une vraie penitence," as our driver expressed it, though the -scenery is lovely. My mother was charmed to find an old woman at La Tour -who had known Oberlin very well and had lived in his parish. - -[Illustration: VILLAR, IN THE VAUDOIS.[136]] - -Amongst the endless little out-of-the-way excursions which my mother, -Lea, and I have made together in little _chars-à-banc_, one of those I -remember with greatest pleasure is that from Vergogna up the Val -Anzasca. The scenery was magnificent: such a deep gorge, with purple -rocks breaking through the rich woods, and range upon range of distant -mountains, with the snows of Monte Rosa closing them in. We stayed at a -charming little mountain inn at Ponte Grande, where everything was -extraordinarily cheap, and wandered in the meadows filled with -globe-ranunculus and over-shadowed by huge chestnut-trees. In the -evening the charcoal-burners came down from the mountains, where we had -watched the smoke of the fires all day amongst the woods, and serenaded -us under our windows, singing in parts, with magnificent voices, most -effective in the still night. We were afterwards at Domo d'Ossola for a -Sunday for the extraordinary fête of the imaginary Santa Filomena--kept -all day with frantic enthusiasm, cannons firing, bells ringing, and -processions of girls in white, chaunting as they walked, pouring in from -all the country parishes in the neighbourhood. - - - _To_ MRS. HARE (ITALIMA). - - "_Lausanne, Sept. 3, 1858._--At Martigny we found _Galignani_, - which we had not seen for some days, and you will imagine my - distress at the sad news about Mr. Landor with which they were - filled.[137] Dear Mr. Landor! I had always hoped and intended to be - near him and watch over the last years of this old, old friend. I - feel certain that there is much, which the world does not know, to - be said on his side. I have known Mrs. Y. for years ... and always - prophesied that she would be the ruin of Mr. Landor some day. For - the poems, no excuse can be offered except that he was so imbued - with the spirit of the classical authors, that when he wished to - write against Mrs. Y., he thought, 'How would Horace have written - this?' and wrote accordingly, only that Horace would have said - things a great deal worse. - - 'Some thought far worse of him, and judged him wrong; - But verse was what he had been wedded to, - And his own mind did like a tempest strong - Come to him thus, and drove the weary wight along.'[138] - - Whatever his faults are, I am sure you will feel that we who have - known him well must draw a veil for ourselves over the failings of - his old age, and remember only the many kind words of the dear old - man, so tender in heart and so fastidious in taste, the many good - and generous acts of his long life, and how many they are. - - "How much we have been struck with the _pale_ blue of the Swiss - lakes compared with the deep blue of those of Italy." - - - _To_ MY AUNT, ELEANOR PAUL. - - "_Dijon, Sept. 12, 1858._--We found Fribourg quite up to our - expectations, quite worth coming all the way round by Switzerland - to visit. And the organ, how magnificent it is! We went in the - evening to hear it, when all the beautiful gothic church was - wrapped in darkness, except the solitary gleam of light in the - organ-loft, and we all sat long in breathless expectation. When the - music came, it was like a story. One seemed to be sitting far up - the nave of some great cathedral, and to hear from the distant - choir the choristers chaunting a litany, answering one another, - and then swelling and joining in a universal chorus. Then, while - they were singing, it was as if a great storm arose, the hail - rattled and the rain splashed against the windows, the thunder - crashed overhead, and the wind howled around. And then a mighty - earthquake convulsed and shook the church to its very foundations. - But always, in the pauses of the storm, the sweet silvery voices of - the choristers were heard above the roaring of the elements, and - when the storm subsided, they joined in thanksgiving, which died - away in the faint echoes of the surrounding hills. And all this was - the organ! - - "We came by Morat to Neuchâtel. It is a pretty, though not a - striking place; but the view of the vast mass of Mont Blanc and of - all the Oberland Alps in the rose-coloured glow is magnificent. The - mother made inquiries after many old acquaintances,[139] to find - most of them dead, and those who were still living old, old ladies - of ninety and of one hundred. - - "Did you ever hear of Doubs? We came through it yesterday, and it - certainly seemed to us the most melancholy, ill-fated village we - had ever seen. Some time ago there lived there a boy, whose - stepmother was very cruel to him--so cruel that his whole aim and - object in life was to obtain money enough to set up for himself and - escape from her tyranny. At last he succeeded, and leaving his - father's house with his heart full of bitterness, he invested his - savings in a partnership with the owner of the village café, where - he kept the accounts. One day his partner accused him of not - giving him a fair share of the profits. This made him perfectly - frantic--so furious that he determined to avenge himself by nothing - less than the total destruction of his native place! He began by - setting fire to his café, but the alarm was scarcely given when it - was discovered that almost every other house was in flames. The - inhabitants hurried from their beds, and were barely able to save - themselves, their houses, cattle, and goods perishing at one blow. - Only a few houses and the church escaped, in which the fugitives - took refuge, and were beginning to collect their energies, when, - after ten days, the fire broke out again in the night, and the rest - of the village was consumed with all it contained, including a - child of four years old. Between the two fires cholera had broken - out, so that numbers perished from pestilence as well as exposure. - The author of all the misery was taken and transported, but the - town is only now beginning to rise again from its ruins, and the - people to raise their spirits." - -On reaching Paris, we found Italima and my sister at the Hôtel d'Oxford -et Cambridge. Greatly to my relief, my mother decided that, as she was -in perfect health and well supplied with visitors, it was an admirable -opportunity for my remaining abroad to learn French: this I was only too -thankful for, as it put off the evil day of my return to England, and -encountering the family wrath about my refusal to take Orders. With my -sister I spent an amusing day at Versailles on a visit to the Marquis -and Marquise du Prât, the latter a daughter of the Duc de Grammont, and -a very pretty, lively person. They lived in an ideal house of the -_ancienne régime_, where the chairs, picture-frames, carpets, even the -antimacassars, were carved or worked with the shields, crests, and -mottoes of the family. - -After my sister left, the intrigues of Madame Davidoff, whom, in -compliance with my mother's wishes, I had refused to visit, brought -about my acquaintance with the Vicomte de Costa le Cerda, a -Franco-Spaniard and ardent Catholic, who constituted himself my -cicerone, and amongst other places took me to _séances_ of the Académie -de France, of which he was a member; and I should have been much -interested in seeing all the celebrated philosophers, politicians, -physicians, geologists, &c., if I had not been so ignorant of French -literature that I had scarcely heard of any one of them before. The -Marquis de Gabriac[140] (I forget how his office entitled him to do so) -sent me a medal which enabled me to visit all profane, and the -Archbishop of Paris a permission to enter all religious, institutions. -Using the latter, I went with De Costa to the Benedictines, Ursulines, -Carmelites, Petites Sœurs des Pauvres, and the Œuvre de la -Compassion for bringing up little homeless boys. On Sundays I heard Père -Félix, the philosophic Bourdaloue of the nineteenth century, preach with -his musical voice to vast enthralled audiences in Nôtre Dame.[141] - -[Illustration: NOTRE DAME, PARIS.[142]] - -Capital were the French lessons I received from the excellent M. Nyon, -to whom I have always felt indebted. After Italima left Paris, I lodged -with a Madame Barraud, who rented a small apartment at the back of a -court in the Rue des Saints-Pères. Here my wretched little room looked -out upon a blank wall, and was as thoroughly uncomfortable as it was -possible to be. The weather soon became bitterly cold, and, to prevent -being starved, I had to sit almost all day in the one poor uncarpeted -sitting-room with old Madame Barraud herself, who was a most -extraordinary character. Without the slightest apparent reason, a sudden -suspicion would seize her, and she would rush off to the kitchen. In -another minute she would return, wringing her hands, and would fling -herself down in a chair with--"Oh, que je suis malheureuse! Oh, que je -suis malheureuse! C'est une fille abominable cette Marie--cette tortue! -elle ne sait pas le service du tout," and then, before she had time to -take breath, she would run off to investigate the causes of a fresh -noise in the kitchen. You were never safe from her. Every moment that -old woman would dart in like a whirlwind, just to wipe off one speck of -dust she had discovered on the mirror, or to smooth some crease she -suspected in the tablecloth; and almost before you could look up she -was vanishing with her eternal refrain of "que je suis misérable! que je -suis malheureuse!" - -The one subject of discussion till twelve o'clock was the déjeûner, from -twelve to six the dinner, and after that the déjeûner of the next -morning. Matters, however, were rather improved when Mademoiselle -Barraud was at home--a thoroughly sensible, sterling person, who was -generally absent on professional duties, being one of the first -music-mistresses of the day. Sometimes Madame and Mademoiselle had -friends in the evening, when it was amusing to see specimens of the -better sort of third-class Parisians. - -I made very few friends at Paris, but the persons I saw oftenest were -the Marquise du Pregnier and her old mother, who remembered the Reign of -Terror and had lost both her parents by the guillotine. Occasionally I -went in the evening to the salon of Madame Mohl, wife of Julius Mohl, -the great Orientalist, but herself an Englishwoman, who had in early -life been intimate with Chateaubriand and present at his touching last -hours, when his friend Madame Recamier, beautiful to the end, sat -watching him with her blind eyes. Madame Mohl was a most -extraordinary-looking person, like a poodle, with frizzled hair hanging -down over her face and very short skirts. Her salon, at 120 Rue de Bac, -especially on Friday evenings, was at that time quite one of the social -features of Paris. One savant used to drop in after the other and sit -round her talking in a circle, and with a _finesse d'esprit_ all her -own, she would address each in turn in her quick sharp voice, always -saying something pungent or clever. Politics were the chief topic, and -though I remember Madame Mohl once saying that "political society was -not what could be called a _nourishing_ occupation," there were no -refreshments, however late the company stayed, but tea and biscuits. She -had always had a sort of salon, even when, as Miss Clarke, she lived -with her old mother in a very small apartment in the Abbaye-aux-Bois. -Ticknor speaks of her there as keeping a little _bureau d'esprit_ all -her own, _à la française_. - -One night when I was shown into her salon, I found, to my horror, that I -was not only the first to arrive, but that the old lady was so engrossed -in administering a violent scolding to her husband, that she was -promenading the drawing-room half undressed, with her strange locks -still in curl-papers. It was a most ridiculous scene, and my premature -appearance not a little embarrassing to them both. I retreated into the -passage till Madame Mohl was "done up," though that operation was not -accomplished till many other guests had arrived. - -M. Julius Mohl was the greatest contrast to his quicksilver wife. He -used to be called "_le bourru bienfaisant_," from his rough exterior and -genuine kindness of heart. He was really ten years younger than his -wife, though she considered sixty-eight the right age for a woman to -attain to, and never to her last day allowed that she had passed that -limit. - -Madame Mohl was fond of describing how, when she was at Paris in her -childhood, her elder sister, Mrs. Frewen, was taken by their mother and -grandmother to the chapel royal at the Tuileries, where Marie Antoinette -was then living in a kind of half-captivity. She was a very little girl, -and a gendarme thought she would be crushed, and lifted her upon his -shoulders, on which she was just opposite the King and Queen. She -remembered, as in a picture, how on one side of them were first Madame -Royale, then Madame Elizabeth, then the little Dauphin. - -The cause which led to Mrs. Frewen seeing Marie Antoinette at that time -was in itself very curious. She was returning from the south with her -mother (Mrs. Clarke) and her grandmother. They reached Bordeaux, where -they were to embark for England in a "smack." Their luggage was already -on board; but, on the night before starting, the grandmother had a vivid -dream that the smack was lost with all on board. In the morning she -declared that nothing on earth should induce her to go in it. The -daughter remonstrated vigorously about expense, but the old lady stood -firm. They were able to take off their smaller things, but all their -larger luggage had to be left. The smack went down on the Goodwin Sands -and all was lost; so the family came to Paris.[143] - -Of all the evenings I spent at Paris, the most interesting was one with -the Archbishop, who kindly invited me to his old country château of -Issy, once a palace of the Prince de Condé, and very magnificent. The -Archbishop, however, only inhabited the porter's lodge, and all the rest -was left deserted. The Archbishop was playing at bagatelle with his -chaplains when we entered, upon which he seated himself opposite to us -(De Costa went with me) in an arm-chair. He was a fine old man with grey -hair, dressed in cardinal's robes and crimson stockings, with the chain -of a Grand Almoner of France round his neck. There was only one light -in the high dark room, a lamp close to his shoulder, which threw a most -picturesque light over him, like a Rembrandt portrait. He inquired about -my visits to the different "religious" in Paris, and spoke regretfully -of the difficulties encountered by the Petites Sœurs des Pauvres. -Then he talked to De Costa about his medical studies and about -phrenology. This led him to the great Napoleon, of whose habits he gave -a very curious account. He said that he believed his strange -phrenological development was caused by his extraordinary way of -feeding--that he never was known to take a regular meal, but that he had -a spit on which a chicken was always roasting at a slow fire, and that -whenever he felt inclined he took a slice. When demolished, the chicken -was instantly replaced. It was the same with sleep: he never went to bed -at regular hours, only when he felt sleepy. We had been warned that the -Archbishop himself went to bed at nine, as he always rose at four; so at -nine I got up and kissed his ring, as we always did then to the -cardinals at Rome, but the kind old man insisted on coming out after us -into the passage, and seeing that we were well wrapped up in our -greatcoats. - -In October, Aunt Kitty (Mrs. Stanley) came for a few days to Paris, and -going about with Arthur Stanley was a great pleasure. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Paris, Oct. 19, 1858._--I have been much disturbed by my dearest - mother's writing twice to Aunt Kitty to urge upon me the duty of - instantly deciding upon some situation. It seems so useless to make - oneself miserable in the interval because situations and - professions do not drop from the clouds whenever one chooses to - call for them. You know how I have dreaded the return to England, - simply because I knew how wearing the family onslaught would be - directly I arrived, and that all peace would be at an end, and it - certainly was not likely to mend matters to write to complain to - the Stanleys of how grievously I had disappointed you, and that - therefore I must decide instantly! If my mother will consider, she - will see that it is no question of exerting oneself. I know exactly - what there is to be had and what there is not, and we both know how - extremely improbable it is that I could get _anything_ without some - knowledge of modern languages, at least of French. This therefore - is evidently the first point, and whilst one is employed all day - long in struggling and striving to attain it, is it not rather hard - to see letters from England about waste of time, want of effort, - &c.? - - "Were I to take an office in London _now_, the pay might possibly - be as much as £60 a year, without any vacation, or any hope of - advance in life, and even in the most miserable lodgings it would - be difficult to live in London under £200 a year. However, if my - mother hears of anything which she wishes me to take, I will - certainly take it. - -[Illustration: THE PONT NEUF, PARIS.[144]] - - "Aunt Kitty has been very kind, and I have enjoyed going about with - Arthur. Yesterday we went to the Conciergerie, where, by help of - the Archbishop's letter and an order from the Préfecture of Police, - we contrived to gain admittance. It is in the centre of Louis the - Ninth's palace, of which it was once the dungeon, and has been very - little altered. The room in which Marie Antoinette was confined for - two months before her execution has scarcely been changed at all. - There are still the heavy barred doors, the brick floor, the cold - damp smell, the crucifix which hung before the window and kneeling - before which she received the viaticum, the place where the bed - stood, upon which the Queen could not lie down without being - watched by the guards--who never took their eyes off--from the - wicket opposite. Opening out of the Queen's prison is the small - narrow chamber in which Robespierre was confined for one day, but - where he never slept--brought there at eight, tried at eleven, - executed at four. This opens into a large room, now the chapel, - once the prison of Madame Elizabeth, and afterwards the place in - which the Girondists held their last dreadful banquet before - execution, when they sang the Marseillaise around the dead man on - the table, and are said to have composed 'Mourir pour la Patrie.' - - "To-day Arthur and I went by rail to Versailles, and took a little - carriage thence to Port Royal. The country was lovely, the forest - red and golden with autumnal tints. In a wooded valley, with a - green lawn winding through it like a river, watered by a little - brooklet, are the remains of Port Royal, the farmhouse where Racine - and Pascal lived and wrote, the dovecot and fountain of Mère - Angélique, the ruins of the church, the cemetery and cross, and - 'the Solitude' where the nuns sat in solemn council around a - crucifix in the middle of the woods. In the house is a collection - of old pictures of the celebrities connected with the place. - Arthur, of course, peopled the whole place in imagination and - description with the figures of the past, and insisted on our - 'walking in procession' (of two) down the ruined church. - - "We went on to Dampierre, a fine old château of the Duc de Luynes, - with green drives and avenues; and then to Chevreuse, where we - climbed up the hill to the ruined castle with machicolated towers - and a wide view over the orange-coloured woods, where the famous - Madame de Chevreuse lived." - -[Illustration: PORT ROYAL.[145]] - - "_Nov. 8._--The cold is almost insupportable! Parisians are so - accustomed to their horrible climate, that Madame Barraud cannot - understand my feeling it, and I have great difficulty in getting - even the one little fire we have, and am occupied all day in - shutting the doors, which every one else makes a point of leaving - open. Madame Barraud describes her own character exactly when she - stands in the middle of the room and says with a tragic voice, 'Je - suis juste, Monsieur, je suis bonne; mais, Monsieur, je suis - _sévère_!' She is excellent and generous on all great occasions, - but I never knew any one who had such a power of making people - uncomfortable by petty grievances and incessant fidgetting. Though - she will give me fifty times more food than I wish, nothing on - earth would induce her to light the fire in my bedroom, even in the - most ferocious weather, because it is not '_son habitude_'. 'La - bonne Providence m'a donné un caractère,' she said the other day, - recounting her history. 'Avec ce caractère j'ai fait un mariage de - convenance avec M. Barraud: avec ce caractère, étant veuve, j'ai - pris ma petite fille de douze ans, et je suis venue à Paris pour - faire jouer son talent: avec ce caractère, quand les fils de mon - mari m'ont fait des mauvaises tournées, je n'ai rien dit, mais je - les ai quittés pour toujours, parceque je n'ai pas voulu voir le - nom de mon mari paraître dans des querelles: je suis bonne, - Monsieur, je suis juste, c'est ma nature; mais, Monsieur, je suis - _sévère_; et je ne les reverrais _jamais_.' Just now she is - possessed with the idea--solely based upon her having a new pair of - shoes--that Marie, the maid, certainly has a lover concealed - somewhere, and she constantly goes to look for him under the - kitchen-table, in the cupboard, &c. She hangs up the chicken or - goose for the next day's dinner in the little passage leading to my - room, and in the middle of the night I hear stealthy footsteps, and - a murmur of 'Oh, qu'il est gras! Oh, qu'il sera délicieux!' as she - pats it and feels it all over." - -At the end of November I returned to England. Two years after, when we -were in Paris on our way to Italy, I went to the Rue des Saints-Pères. -Madame Barraud was dead then, and her daughter, left alone, was -lamenting her so bitterly that she was quite unable to attend to her -work, and sat all day in tears. She never rallied. When I inquired, as -we returned through Paris, Mademoiselle Barraud had followed her mother -to the grave; constantly as she had been scolded by her, wearisome as -her life seemed to have been made, the grief for her loss had literally -broken her heart. - -During the winter we were absent at Rome, our house of Lime was lent to -Aunt Esther (Mrs. Julius Hare) and Mrs. Alexander. Two cabinets -contained all our family MSS., which Aunt Esther knew that I valued -beyond everything else. Therefore, she forced both the cabinets open and -destroyed the whole--all Lady Jones's journals and letters from India, -all Bishop Shipley's letters--every letter, in fact, relating to any -member of the Hare family. She replaced the letters to my adopted mother -from the members of her own family in the front of the cabinets, and -thus the fact they had nothing behind them was never discovered till we -left Hurstmonceaux, two years after. When asked about it, Aunt Esther -only said, "Yes, I did it: I saw fit to destroy them." It was a strange -and lasting legacy of injustice to bequeath, and I think I cannot be -harsh in saying that only a very peculiar temperament could construe -such an act into "right-doing." - - - - -IX - -WORK IN SOUTHERN COUNTIES - - "How can a man learn to know himself? By reflection never, only by - action. In the measure in which thou seekest to do thy duty shalt - thou know what is in thee. But what is one's duty? The demand of - the hour."--GOETHE. - - "Il est donné, de nos jours, à un bien petit nombre, même parmi les - plus délicats et ceux qui les apprécient le mieux, de recueillir, - d'ordonner sa vie selon ses admirations et selon ses goûts, avec - suite, avec noblesse."--SAINTE-BEUVE. - - "Every man has a separate calling, an end peculiar to - himself."--FREDERICK SCHLEGEL. - - "The old lord-treasurer Burleigh, if any one came to the Lords of - the Council for a licence to travel, he would first examine him of - England: if he found him ignorant, he would bid him stay at home - and know his own country first."--HENRY PEACHAM, 1622, _The - Compleat Gentleman_. - - -Upon returning to England in the winter of 1858, I felt more bitterly -that ever the want of sympathy which had formerly oppressed me. Though I -had the most idolatrous love for my dearest mother, and the most -over-anxious wish to please her, there was then none of the perfect -friendship between us, the easy interchange of every thought, which -there was in later years; for she was still so entirely governed by her -sisters-in-law as scarcely to have any individuality of her own. Often, -often, did she pain me bitterly by suspecting my motives and questioning -my actions, even when I was most desirous of doing right; and from the -long habit of being _told_ that I was idle and ignorant, that I cared -for nothing useful, and that I frittered away my life, she had grown to -believe it, and constantly assumed that it was so. Thus all my studies -were embittered to me. I was quite sure that nothing I did would be -appreciated, so that it never seemed worth while to do anything, and I -became utterly deficient in that cheerfulness of disposition which is -the most important element in all private success. - -As I write this, and remember the number of delightful intimates by whom -my after years have been surrounded, I find it difficult to realise that -I had at this time _no_ friends who, by mutual confidence, could help or -cheer me. The best of them, Milligan, was now settled in London, being -in full work in the Ecclesiastical Commission Office, and though always -very kind to me, he had now fallen into a new set of acquaintances and -surroundings, and had no time to bestow upon me individually. George -Sheffield I seldom saw; and I had no other friends worth speaking of. - -At this time all the intellectual impetus I received, and without which -I should have fallen into a state of stagnation, came from the house of -my aunt, Mrs. Stanley. Her grace, ease, and tact in society were -unrivalled. At her house, and there alone, I met people of original -ideas and liberal conversation. In this conversation, however, I was at -that time far too shy to join, and I was so dreadfully afraid of my -aunt, who, with the kindest intentions, had a very cold unsympathetic -manner in private, that--while I always appreciated her--I was unable to -reap much benefit from her society. Perhaps my chief friend was my -cousin Arthur Stanley, whom I was not the least afraid of, and whom I -believe to have been really fond of me at this time; also, though he had -a very poor opinion of my present powers and abilities, he did not seem, -like other people, utterly to despair of my future. - -[Illustration: Catherine Stanley] - -By my mother's desire, Archdeacon Moore (an old friend of the Hare -family) had written to Sir Antonio Panizzi,[146] then the -autocratic ruler of the British Museum Library, with a view to my -standing for a clerkship there. But this idea was afterwards abandoned, -and it was owing to the kindness of my cousin Arthur and that of Albert -Way (our connection by his marriage with Emmeline Stanley) that I -obtained from John Murray, the publisher, the employment of my next two -years--the "Handbook of Berks, Bucks, and Oxfordshire." - -The commission to undertake this Handbook was one which I hailed with -rapture. The work was in every respect welcome to me. I had an inner -consciousness that I could do it well, and that while I was doing it I -should be acquiring information and advancing my own neglected -education. Besides, the people with whom the work would necessarily -bring me in contact were just those who were most congenial. My -principal residence would be Oxford, associated with some of my -happiest days, and where it was now a real pleasure to be near Arthur -Stanley; while, if my mother were ill or needed me in any way, there was -nothing in my work which would prevent my returning to her, and -continuing it at home. Above all, the fact of my having the work to do -would silence the ceaseless insinuations to my mother as to my desire -for an idle life of self-indulgence. I knew nothing then of the -mercantile value of my labour. I did not know (and I had no one to -inform me) that I was giving away the earnest work of two years for a -pitiful sum,[147] which was not a tenth of its value, and which was -utterly insufficient to meet its expenses. - -How well I remember my first sight of John Murray, when he came to dine -at the Stanleys' house in Grosvenor Crescent--his hard, dry questions, -his sharp, concise note afterwards, in which he announced the terms of -our hardly-driven bargain, received by me as if it had been the greatest -of favours. Perhaps, however, the very character of the man I had to -deal with, and the rules he enjoined as to my work, were a corrective I -was much the better for at this time. The style of my writing was to be -as hard, dry, and incisive as my taskmaster. It was to be a mere -catalogue of facts and dates, mingled with measurements of buildings, -and irritating details as to the "E. E.," "Dec.," or "Perp." -architecture even of the most insignificant churches, this being the -peculiar hobby of the publisher. No sentiment, no expression of opinion -were ever to be allowed; all description was to be reduced to its barest -bones, dusty, dead, and colourless. In fact, I was to produce a book -which I knew to be utterly unreadable, though correct and useful for -reference. Many a paper struggle did I have with John Murray the -third--for there has been a dynasty of John Murrays in Albemarle -Street--as to the retention of paragraphs I had written. I remember how -this was especially the case as to my description of Redesdale, which -was one of the best things I have ever done. Murray, however, was never -averse to a contribution from one whose name was _already_ distinguished -either by rank or literature, and when Arthur Stanley contributed -passages with his signature to my account of Oxford, they were gladly -accepted, though antagonistic to all his rules. - -[Illustration: CANON STANLEY'S HOUSE, OXFORD.] - -Arthur Stanley had been made Professor of Ecclesiastical History at -Oxford before we had gone abroad, and, while we were absent, a Canonry -at Christ Church, attached to the professorship, had fallen in to him. -The Canon's house was just inside the Peckwater Gate leading into Tom -Quad, and had a stiff narrow walled garden behind, planted with -apple-trees, in the centre of which Arthur made a fountain. It had been -a trouble to the Canon that it was almost impossible in his position to -make the acquaintance he wished with the young men around him, and in -this I was able to be a help to him, and in some way to return the -kindness which often gave me a second home in his house for many months -together. His helpless untidiness, and utter inability to look after -himself, were also troubles which I could at least ameliorate. I rapidly -made acquaintances in Christ Church, several of which developed into -friendships, and I was only too glad to accede to Arthur's wish that I -should invite them to his house, where they became his acquaintances -also. Of Christ Church men at this time I became most familiar with -Brownlow,[148] Le Strange,[149] Edward Stanhope,[150] Stopford,[151] -Addie Hay,[152] and my second cousin, Victor Williamson.[153] A little -later, at the house of Mrs. Cradock, I was introduced to "Charlie -Wood."[154] I did not think that I should like him at first; but we -became intimate over an excursion to Watlington and Sherborne Castle, -and he has ever since been the best and dearest of my friends. Very soon -in constant companionship, we drew together in the Bodleian and Christ -Church libraries, we read together at home, and many were the delightful -excursions we made in home scenes, forerunners of after excursions in -more striking scenes abroad. We also often shared in the little feasts -in Mrs. Cradock's[155] garden, where we used to amuse ourselves and -others by composing and reciting verses. - -I frequently left Christ Church for a week or two upon exploring raids -into the counties on which I was employed, and used to bring back -materials to work up in Oxford, with the help of the Bodleian and other -libraries. Very early, in this time of excursions, I received an -invitation (often repeated) from Jane, Viscountess Barrington, a first -cousin of my real mother, to visit her at Beckett near Shrivenham. I had -seen so little then of any members of my real family, that I went to -Beckett with more shyness and misgivings than I have ever taken to any -other place; but I soon became deeply attached to my dear cousin Lady -Barrington, who began from the first to show an interest in me, which -was more that of a tenderly affectionate aunt than of any more distant -relation. Lord Barrington, the very type of a courteous English -nobleman, was also most kind. Of their daughters, two were -unmarried--Augusta, who was exceedingly handsome, brimful of very -accurate information, and rather alarming on first acquaintance; and -Adelaide, who was of a much brighter, gentler nature. I thought at this -time, however, that Lina, Lady Somerton, was more engaging than either -of her sisters. I often found her at Beckett with her children, of whom -the little Nina--afterwards Countess of Clarendon--used to be put into a -large china pot upon the staircase when she was naughty. Beckett was a -very large luxurious house in the Tudor style, with a great hall, built -by Thomas Liddell, Lady Barrington's brother. The park was rather flat, -but had a pretty piece of water with swans, and a picturesque -summer-house built by Inigo Jones. Much of the family fortune came from -Lord Barrington's uncle, Shute Barrington, Bishop of Durham, who used to -say he was the only licensed poacher in England--"I Shute, by the grace -of God," &c. This old bishop, when his nephew brought his bride to visit -him--a wedding visit--at Mongewell, filled all the trees with rare -cockatoos and parrots, in the hope that when she heard them scream, she -would think they were the native birds of that district. Lord and Lady -Barrington took me, amongst other places, to see Mr. Aitkens of Kingston -Lyle--"the Squire" in Tom Hughes's "Scouring of the White Horse," and -also to see the creature itself, which is far more like a weasel than a -horse. The kindness of Lord Barrington also secured my favourable -reception at every other house in the county, and many were the visits I -paid in Berkshire at places described in my Handbook. - -Much kindness was also shown me by old Lady Stanley of Alderley,[156] -who was often very violent, indeed quite furious, about her own -opinions; but full of the most sincere interest and kindness towards me -for my mother's sake. Holmwood, near Henley, whither I went several -times to visit her, was an enchanting place, with luxuriant lawn and -flowers, fine trees, and beautiful distant views. A succession of -grandchildren always filled the house, and found it most enjoyable, the -two unmarried aunts--Rianette (Maria Margaret) and Louisa--being, as one -of them (Lady Airlie) has often told me, "the good fairies of their -childhood." Like most Stanleys, they were peculiarly subject to what -that family calls "fits of righteous indignation" with all who differed -from them; but nobody minded. Having had the most interesting youth -themselves, during which their uncle (afterwards Bishop Stanley) and -other relations were always inventing something for their amusement, -they had a special gift for interesting others, so that those who went -to visit them always felt that though they received many and often -unmerited scoldings, their visit could never be dull. How well I -remember still Louisa Stanley's graphic imitation of many people of her -long-ago--especially of old Mr. Holland, the Knutsford doctor,[157] who -would come in saying, "Well, Miss Louisa, and how are we to-day? We must -take a little more rubbub and magnesia; and I would eat a leetle plain -pudden with a leetle shugger over it!" and then, ringing the bell, -"Would you send round my hearse, if you please?" - -Lady Stanley herself had been the pupil of Gibbon at Lausanne, and had -much to tell of past days; and the pertinacity with which she maintained -her own opinions about them and everything else, rendered her -recollections very vivid and amusing. All the family, including my -mother, were so dreadfully afraid of Lady Stanley, that a visit to her -always partook of the nature of an adventure; but it generally turned -out to be a very charming adventure, and I always look back to her with -affectionate gratitude, and feel that there was a great charm in the -singleness, sincerity, and freshness of her character. When I was at -Holmwood, I used to engage a little carriage and go out for long -excursions of eight or ten hours into the country; and when I returned -just before dinner, Lady Stanley was so anxious to hear my adventures, -that she would not wait till I came down, but would insist upon the -whole history through the bedroom door as I was dressing. - -If people were not afraid of her, Lady Stanley liked them the better for -it, and she always heartily enjoyed a joke. I remember hearing how one -day at Alderley she raged and stormed because the gentlemen sat longer -after dinner than she liked. Old Mr. Davenport was the first to come -into the drawing-room. "Well now, what _have_ you been doing?" she -exclaimed; "what _can_ you have found to talk about to keep you so -long?"--"Would you really like to know what we've been talking about, -my lady?" said Mr. Davenport. "Yes indeed," she stormed. "Well," said -Mr. Davenport very deliberately, "we talked first about the depression -in the salt (mines), and that led us on inadvertently to pepper, and -that led us to cayenne, and that, my lady, led us ... to yourself,"--and -she was vastly amused. One day her maid told her that there was a -regular uproar downstairs about precedence, as to which of the maids was -to come in first to prayers. "Oh, _that_ is very easily settled," said -Lady Stanley; "the ugliest woman in the house must always, of course, -have the precedence," and she heard no more about it. - -Another house which I was frequently invited to use as a centre for my -excursions was that of my father's first cousin, Penelope, Mrs. Warren, -who was living in the old home of Lady Jones at Worting, near -Basingstoke. It was in a most dreary, cold, wind-stricken district, and -was especially selected on that account by Lady Jones, because of its -extreme contrast to the India which she abominated. Internally, however, -the old red-brick house was very comfortable and charming, and Mrs. -Warren herself a very sweet and lovable old lady, tenderly cared for by -her sons and daughters, many of whom were always about her, though only -one of the latter, Anna, was unmarried. Mrs. Warren had been the eldest -of the daughters of Dean Shipley, and the only one who never gave her -family any trouble, and who was invariably loved and honoured by its -other members. Her character through life had been that of a peacemaker, -and in her old age she seemed almost glorified by the effulgence of the -love which had emanated from her, no single member of the family having -a recollection of her which was not connected with some kindly word or -unselfish action.[158] That Lady Jones should bequeath Worting to her -was felt by all the other nephews and nieces to have been most natural. -"Who should it have been to, if not to Penelope?" She liked to talk of -old times, and her reminiscences were most interesting. She was also -very proud of her family, especially of the Mordaunts, and of our direct -descent, through the Shipleys, from the youngest son of Edward I. It was -on one of my early visits at Worting that I first made acquaintance with -my cousin Harriet, Mrs. Thornton, niece of Mrs. Warren, and one of the -daughters of Bishop Heber.[159] She described the second marriage of -her mother to Count Valsamachi in the Greek church at Venice, and the -fun she and her sister thought it to walk round the altar with huge -wedding favours in their hands. She was full of amusing stories of -India, from which she was just returned: would tell how one day she was -sitting next a Rajah who was carving a pie, and when he lifted the crust -a whole flock of little birds flew out--"Whir-r-r-r!" said the Rajah as -they flew all over the room; how, one day, being surprised that an -expected ham was not brought in to dinner, she went out and found it -lying in the court, with all the native servants round it in a circle -spitting at it; and how one day at the Cape she was told that a woman -was bitten by a venomous snake, and going out, found her eating a toad -as a remedy. One of Mrs. Thornton's stories, which I have often repeated -since, is so curious as to deserve insertion here. - - "M. de Sartines had been brought up by an old friend of his family - who lived in Picardy. The château of his old friend was the home of - his youth, and the only place where he felt sure that all his - failings would be overlooked and all his fancies and wishes would - be considered. - - "While he was absent from France on diplomatic service, M. de - Sartines heard with great grief that his old friend was dead. In - losing him, he lost not only the friend who had been as a second - father, but the only home which remained to him in France. He felt - his loss very much--so much, indeed, that for many years he did not - return to France at all, but spent his time of leave in travelling - in Italy and elsewhere. - - "Some years after, M. de Sartines, finding himself in Paris, - received a letter from the nephew of his old friend, who had - succeeded to the Picardy property. It was a very nice letter - indeed, saying how much he and his wife wished to keep up old - family ties and connections, and that though he was well aware that - it would cost M. de Sartines much to revisit the château so - tenderly connected with memories of the dead, still, if he could - make that effort, no guest would be more affectionately welcomed, - and that he and his wife would do their utmost to make him feel - that the friendship which had been held had not passed away, but - was continued to another generation. It was so nice a letter that - M. de Sartines felt that he ought not to reject the hand of - friendship stretched out in so considerate and touching a manner, - and though it certainly cost him a great effort, he went down to - the château in Picardy. - - "His old friend's nephew and his wife received him on the doorstep. - Everything was prepared to welcome him. They had inquired of former - servants which room he had occupied and how he liked it arranged, - and all was ready accordingly. They had even inquired about and - provided his favourite dishes at dinner. Nothing was wanting which - the most disinterested solicitude could effect. - - "When M. de Sartines retired to his room for the night, he was - filled with conflicting emotions. The blank which he felt in the - loss of his old friend was mingled with a grateful sense of the - kindness he had received from the nephew. He felt he could not - sleep, or would be long in doing so; but having made up a large - fire, for it was very cold weather, he went to bed. - - "In process of time, as he lay wakefully with his head upon the - pillow, he became aware of the figure of a little wizened old man - hirpling towards the fire. He thought he must be dreaming, but, as - he listened, the old man spoke--'Il y a longtemps que je n'ai vu un - feu, il faut que je me chauffe.' - - "The blood of M. de Sartines ran cold within him as the figure - turned slowly round towards the bed and continued in trembling - accents--'Il y a longtemps que je n'ai vu un lit, il faut que je me - couche.' - - "But every fibre in M. de Sartines' body froze as the old man, on - reaching the bed, drew the curtains, and seeing him, exclaimed--'Il - y a longtemps que je n'ai vu M. de Sartines, il faut que je - l'embrasse.' - - "M. de Sartines almost died of fright. But fortunately he did not - quite die. He lived to know that it was his old friend himself. The - nephew had got tired of waiting for the inheritance; he had - imprisoned his uncle in the cellar, and had given out his death, - and had a false funeral of a coffin filled with stones. The - invitation to his uncle's friend was a _coup de théâtre_: if any - suspicions had existed, they must have been lulled for ever by the - presence of such a guest in the château. But on the very day on - which M. de Sartines had arrived, the old gentleman had contrived - to escape from his cell, and wandering half imbecile about the - house, made his way to the room where he remembered having so often - been with his friend, and found there his friend himself. - - "M. de Sartines saw the rightful owner of the castle reinstated, - and the villainy of the wicked nephew exposed; but the old man died - soon afterwards." - -Here is another story which Mrs. Thornton told, apropos of the benefits -of cousinship:-- - - "Frederick the Great was one day travelling incognito, when he met - a student on his way to Berlin, and asked him what he was going to - do there. 'Oh,' said the student, 'I am going to Berlin to look for - a cousin, for I have heard of so many people who have found cousins - in Berlin, and who have risen through their influence to rank and - power, that I am going to try if I cannot find one too.' Frederick - had much further conversation with him, and on parting said, 'Well, - if you trust to me, I believe that I shall be able to find a cousin - for you before you arrive at Berlin.' The student thanked his - unknown friend, and they parted. - - "Soon after he reached Berlin, an officer of the court came to the - student, and said that he was his cousin, and that he had already - used influence for him with the King, who had desired that he - should preach before him on the following Sunday, but that he - should use the text which the King himself should send him, and no - other. - - "The student was anxious to have the text, that he might consider - his sermon, but one day after another of the week passed, and at - last Sunday came and no text was sent. The time for going to church - came, and no text had arrived. The King and the court were seated, - and the unhappy student proceeded with the service, but still no - text was given. At last, just as he was going up into the pulpit, a - sealed paper was given to him. After the prayer he opened it, and - it was ... blank! He turned at once to the congregation, and - showing them the two sides of the paper, said, '_Here_ is nothing, - and _there_ is nothing, and out of nothing God made the world'--and - he preached the most striking sermon the court had ever heard." - -Mrs. Thornton described how old Mr. Thornton had been staying in -Somersetshire with Sir Thomas Acland, when he heard two countrymen -talking together. One of them said to the other, who was trying to -persuade him to do something, "Wal, noo, as they say, 'shake an ass and -go.'" Mr. Thornton came back and said to Sir Thomas, "What very -extraordinary proverbial expressions they have in these parts. Just now -I heard a man say 'shake an ass and go'--such a _very_ extraordinary -proverbial expression." "Well," said Sir Thomas, "the fact is there are -a great many French expressions lingering in this neighbourhood: that -meant 'Chacun à son goût!'" - -Of the new acquaintances I made in Oxfordshire, those of whose -hospitality I oftenest availed myself were the Cottrell Dormers, who -lived at the curious old house of Rousham, above the Cherwell, near -Heythrop. It is a beautiful place, with long evergreen shrubberies, -green lawns with quaint old statues, and a long walk shaded by yews, -with a clear stream running down a stone channel in the midst. Within, -the house is full of old family portraits, and has a wonderful -collection of MSS., and the pedigree of the family from Noah! Mr. and -Mrs. Dormer were quaint characters: he always insisting that he was a -Roman Catholic in disguise, chiefly to plague his wife, and always -reading the whole of Pope's works, in the large quarto edition, through -once a year; she full of kind-heartedness, riding by herself about the -property to manage the estate and cottagers, always welcoming you with a -hearty "Well, to be sure, and how do _you_ do?" She was a _maîtresse -femme_, who ruled the house with a sunshiny success which utterly set at -nought the old proverb-- - - "La maison est misérable et méchante - Où la Poule plus haut que le Coq chante." - -Mrs. Dormer was somehow descended from one of the daughters of Sir -Thomas More, and at Cokethorpe, the place of her brother, Mr. -Strickland, was one of the three great pictures by Holbein of the family -of Sir Thomas More, which was long in the possession of the -Lenthalls.[160] Another place in the neighbourhood of Rousham which I -visited was Fritwell Manor, a most picturesque old house, rented by the -father of my college friend Forsyth Grant--"Kyrie." Fritwell is a -haunted house, and was inhabited by two families. When the Edwardes -lived there in the summer, no figure was seen, but stains of fresh blood -were constantly found on the staircase. When the Grants lived there, for -hunting, in the winter, there was no blood, but the servants who went -down first in the morning would meet on the staircase an old man in a -grey dressing-gown, bleeding from an open wound in the throat. It is -said that Sir Baldwin Wake, a former proprietor, quarrelled with his -brother about a lady of whom they were both enamoured, and, giving out -that he was insane, imprisoned him till real madness ensued. His prison -was at the top of the house, where a sort of large human dog-kennel -still exists, to which the unfortunate man is said to have been -chained. - -I made a delightful excursion with "Kyrie" to Wroxton Abbey and -Broughton Castle--Lord Saye and Sele's--where we were invited to -luncheon by Mr. Fiennes and Lady Augusta, in the former of whom I most -unexpectedly found 'Twisleton'[161]--an old hero boy-friend of my Harrow -school-days, whom I regarded then much as David Copperfield did -Steerforth. The old castle is very picturesque, and the church full of -curious monuments. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Christ Church, Oxford, April 25, 1859._--Arthur and I dined last - night at Canon Jelf's. He was for thirteen years tutor to the King - of Hanover, and while at the court fell in love with Countess - Schlippenbach, the Queen's lady-in-waiting, who married him.... Dr. - Jelf told a great deal that was interesting about the King: how, as - Prince George, he would insist upon playing at being his Eton fag, - brush his clothes, make his toast, &c.: that he was with the Prince - at the time of the fatal accident which caused his blindness, when, - in the garden at Kew, having just given half-a-crown to a beggar, - he was whisking his purse round and round, when the ring at the end - went into his eye. A fortnight's anxiety followed, and then came - the great grief of his dear Prince one day saying to him when out - shooting, 'Will you give me your arm, sir? I don't see quite so - well as I ought to do. I think we had better go home.' Afterwards, - instead of murmuring, the Prince only said, 'Those who will not - obey must suffer: you told me not to whisk my things about in that - way, and I disobeyed: it is right that I should suffer for it.' - - "He gave many beautiful pictures of the King's after life: how the - dear blind King, who bears no outward mark of his misfortune, - always turns to the sun, as if seeking the light: of his marriage - with his cousin of Saxe-Altenbourg, a true love-match: that he, the - old tutor, was never forgotten, and that on his last birthday, when - he least expected it, a royal telegram announced--'The King, the - Queen, and the royal children of Hanover wish Dr. Jelf many happy - new years.' The King always writes to Dr. and Mrs. Jelf on their - wedding-day, which even their own family do not always remember, - and on their silver-wedding he sent them a beautiful portrait of - himself. - - "Arthur, I imagine, rather likes having me here, though no - outsiders would imagine so; but he finds me useful after a fashion, - and is much annoyed if I allude to ever going into lodgings. He - certainly does _exactly_ what he likes when I am there, and is - quite as unreserved in his ways as if nobody whatever was present. - I am generally down first. He comes in pre-engrossed, and there is - seldom any morning salutation. At breakfast I sit (he wills it so) - at the end of the table, pour out his excessively weak tea, and put - the heavy buttered buns which he loves within his easy reach. When - we are alone, I eat my own bread and butter in silence; but if - undergraduates breakfast with us, it is my duty, if I know - anything about it, so to turn the conversation that he may learn - what their 'lines' are, and converse accordingly. Certainly the - merry nonsense and childlike buoyancy which cause his breakfast - parties to be so delightful, make the contrast of his silent - irresponsiveness rather trying when we are alone--it is such a - complete 'you are not worth talking to.' However, I have learnt to - enjoy the first, and to take no notice of the other; indeed, if I - can do so quite effectually, it generally ends in his becoming - pleasanter. In amiable moments he will sometimes glance at my MSS., - and give them a sanction like that of Cardinal Richelieu--'Accepi, - legi, probavi.' After breakfast, he often has something for me to - do for him, great plans, maps, or drawings for his lectures, on - huge sheets of paper, which take a good deal of time, but which he - never notices except when the moment comes for using them. All - morning he stands at his desk by the study window (where I see him - sometimes from the garden, which he expects me to look after), and - he writes sheet after sheet, which he sometimes tears up and flings - to rejoin the letters of the morning, which cover the carpet in all - directions.[162] It would never do for him to marry, a wife would - be so annoyed at his hopelessly untidy ways; at his tearing every - new book to pieces, for instance, because he is too impatient to - cut it open (though I now do a good deal in this way). Meantime, as - Goethe says, 'it is the errors of men that make them amiable,' and - I believe he is all the better loved for his peculiarities. - Towards the middle of the day, I sometimes have an indication that - he has no one to walk with him, and would wish me to go, and he - likes me to be in the way then, in case I am wanted, but I am never - to expect to be talked to during the walk. If not required, I amuse - myself, or go on with my own work, and indeed I seldom see Arthur - till the evening, when, if any one dines for whom he thinks it - worth while to come out of himself, he is very pleasant, and - sometimes very entertaining." - -My mother spent a great part of the spring of 1859 at Clifton, whither I -went to visit her, afterwards making a _tourette_ by myself to -Salisbury, Southampton, Beaulieu, and Winchester. - - "_Salisbury, April 12, 1859._--At 8-1/2 I was out on bleak - Salisbury Plain, where, as the driver of my gig observed, 'it is a - whole coat colder than in the valley.' What an immense desert it - is! The day, so intensely grey, with great black clouds sweeping - across the sky, was quite in character with the long lines of - desolate country. At last we turned off the road over the turf, and - in the distance rose the gigantic temple, with the sun shining - through the apertures in the stones. It was most majestic and - impressive, not a creature in sight, except a quantity of rabbits - scampering about, and a distant shepherd." - -The latter part of June 1859 I spent most happily in a pony-carriage -tour in Buckinghamshire and Berkshire with my friend George Sheffield, -who had just passed his examination at the Foreign Office. It was on -this occasion that, as we were driving under a park wall in -Buckinghamshire, I said to George, "Inside that park is a very fine old -house, and inside the house is a very fine old sundial. We will go to -see the house, and we will take away the sundial;" and we _did_, though -at that moment I did not even know the name of the people who lived -there. The old house was the Vatche, which had belonged to my -great-great-grandfather, Bishop Hare, who married its heiress in the -reign of George II., and I had heard of the sundial from the -churchwarden of Chalfont, with whom I had had some correspondence about -my ancestor's tomb. It was made on the marriage of Bishop Hare with Miss -Alston and bore his arms. The family of Allen, then living at the -Vatche, allowed us to see the house, and my enthusiasm at sight of the -sundial, which was lying neglected in a corner, so worked upon the -feelings of Mrs. Allen, that she gave it me. It is now in the garden at -Holmhurst. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_June 16._--I have enjoyed a visit to the Henry Leycesters at - White Place, which lies low in the meadows, but has the charm of a - little creek full of luxuriant water-plants, down which Henry - Leycester punts his guests into the Thames opposite Clifden; and - how picturesque are the old yew-trees and winding walks of that - beautiful place. Henry Leycester, to look upon, is like one of the - magnificent Vandykes in the Brignole Palace at Genoa. Little Mrs. - Leycester is a timid shrinking creature, who daily becomes terribly - afraid of the domestic ghost (a lady carrying her head) as evening - comes on. 'Imagine my feelings, Mr. Hare,' she says, 'my awful - position as a wife and a mother, when my husband is away, and I am - left alone in the long evenings with _her_.'" - - - "_June 17, Christ Church._--Last week the Dean, with much - imprudence, punished two Christ Church men most severely for the - same offence, but _one more than the other_. The next night the - Deanery garden was broken into, the rose-trees torn up and - flower-beds destroyed, the children's swing cut down, and the name - of the injured man cut in large letters in the turf. It has created - great indignation. - - "My chief work, now I am at Oxford, is in the Bodleian, where I - have much to look out and refer to, and where everything is made - delightful by Mr. Coxe, the librarian,[163] who is not only the - most accurate and learned person in the world, but also the most - sympathetic, lively, and lovable. 'Never mind, dear boy,' he - always says, the more trouble I give him. Anything more unlike the - cut-and-dried type of Oxford Dons cannot be imagined. He has given - me a plant (Linaria purpurea) from the tomb of Cicero. - - "I should like to take my Master's degree, but the fees will be - about £20. I could then vote at the election. I should certainly - vote against Gladstone, though Arthur says he should vote for him - 'with both hands and both feet.' ... I have great satisfaction in - being here now, in feeling that I can be useful to Arthur, in - preparing drawings for his lectures, &c., also that he really - prefers my presence to my absence." - - - "_July 4._--I sate up till twelve last night preparing 'the bidding - prayer' for Arthur (who was to preach the 'Act Sermon to-day at St. - Mary's)--immensely long, as the _whole_ of the founders and - benefactors have to be mentioned. Imagine my horror when, after the - service, the Vice-Chancellor came up to Arthur and demanded to know - why _he_ had not been prayed for! I had actually omitted his name - of all others! Arthur said it was all the fault of 'Silvanus.' In - his sermon on Deborah, Arthur described how the long vacation, - 'like the ancient river, the river Kishon,' was about to form a - barrier, and might wash away all the past and supply a - halting-place from which to begin a new life: that the bondage - caused by concealment of faults or debts might now be broken: that - now, when undergraduates were literally 'going to their father,' - they might apply the story of the Prodigal Son, and obtain that - freedom which is truth." - -[Illustration: HODNET CHURCH.] - -In July I paid a first visit to my cousins, the Heber Percys, at Hodnet -Hall, in order to meet Countess Valsamachi (Mrs. Heber Percy's -mother).[164] The old Hodnet Hall was a long low two-storied house, like -an immense cottage, or rather like a beehive, from the abundant family -life which overcrowded it. The low dining-room was full of curious -pictures of the Vernons, whose heiress married one of the Hebers, but -when the pictures had been sent up to London to be cleaned, the cleaner -had cut all their legs off. At this time a debt of £40,000 existed upon -the Hodnet estate. Mr. Percy's father, the Bishop of Carlisle, had -promised to pay it off when certain fees came in. At last the fees were -paid, and the papers were in the house, only awaiting the signature of -the Bishop. That day he fell down dead. When it was told to his -children, they only said, "It is the will of God; we must not complain." - -I had much conversation with Lady Valsamachi. Talking of religion, she -spoke of an atheist who once grumbled at the dispensation of a gourd -having such a slender stem, while an acorn was supported by an oak. -"When he had done speaking, the acorn fell upon his nose; had it been -the gourd, his nose would have been no more!" - -We walked to where Stoke had been, so tenderly connected with past days. -All was altered, except the Terne flowing through reedy meadows. It was -less painful to me to see it than on my last visit, but cost me many -pangs. - -I joined my mother at Toft, where our dear cousin Charlotte Leycester -was acting as mistress of the house, and gave us a cordial welcome to -the old family home. Greatly did my mother enjoy being there, and the -sight of familiar things and people. Especially was she welcomed by an -old woman named Betty Strongitharm; I remember how this old woman said, -"When I am alone, I think, and think, and think, and the end of all my -thinking is that Christ is all in all ... but I do not want to go to -heaven alone; I want to take a many others along with me." - - - JOURNAL. - - "When we left Toft, we went to our cousins at Thornycroft. At - Thornycroft was a labourer named Rathbone. One winter day, when his - wife was in her confinement, she was in great want of something - from Macclesfield, which her husband undertook to get for her when - he went to his work in the town, but he said that he must take his - little girl of ten years old with him, that she might bring it back - to her mother. The woman entreated him not to take the child, as - the snow was very deep, and she feared that she might not find her - way home again. However, the father insisted, and set off, taking - his little girl with him. The purchase was made and the child set - off to return home with it, but she--never arrived. - - "When Rathbone reached home in the evening, and found that his - child had not appeared, he was in an agony of terror, and set off - at once to search for her. He traced her to Monk's Heath. People - had seen her there, and directed her back to Henbury, but she - seemed to have lost her way again. Rathbone next traced her to a - farmhouse at Peover, where the people had had the barbarity to turn - her out at night and direct her back to Henbury. Then all trace of - her was lost. - - "At last Rathbone was persuaded by his friends and neighbours to - apply to a woman whom they called 'the White Witch' at Manchester, - and to her he went. She told him to look into a glass and tell her - what he saw there. He looked into the glass and said, 'I see a man - holding up his hat.' 'Well,' she said, 'then go on with your - search, and when you meet a man holding up his hat, he will tell - you where your child is.' So he returned and went again to search, - taking another man with him. At length, as they were going down a - lane, Rathbone exclaimed, 'There he is!'--'Who?' said the - companion, for he only saw a man running and holding up his hat. - That man told them that he had just found the body of a child under - a tree, and there, near a pond, frozen to death, lay Rathbone's - little girl. - - "When we were at Thornycroft, Rathbone was still overwhelmed with - contrition for what he considered the sin of having consulted the - witch." - -From Cheshire we went to the English Lakes. The curious old King's Arms -Inn at Lancaster, described by Dickens, was then in existence, and it -was a pleasure to sleep there, and walk in the morning upon the high -terrace in front of the church and castle. From Ambleside, we spent a -delightful day in making the round by Dungeon Ghyll and Blea Tarn, where -we drew the soft grey peaks of Langdale Pikes, framed in dark -heather-covered rocks, and in the foreground the blue tarn sleeping amid -the pastures. From Keswick I ascended Skiddaw, and had a glorious view -across the billows of mountains to the sea and the faint outlines of the -Isle of Man. Another delightful day was spent with the mother and Lea in -Borrowdale. One of the most beautiful effects I have ever seen was in -crossing to Buttermere by Borrowdale Hawse, a tremendous wild mountain -chasm, into which the setting sun was pouring floods of crimson light as -we descended, smiting into blood the waters of the little torrent which -was struggling down beside us through the rocks. We arrived at -Buttermere very late, and found not a single room unoccupied in the -village, so had to return in the dark night to Keswick. - -We were much interested in Dumfries, in many ways one of the most -foreign-looking towns in Britain, where we remained several days, -making excursions to the exquisitely graceful ruins of Lincluden Abbey; -to New Abbey (glorious in colour), founded by Devorgilda to contain the -heart of John Baliol; to the Irongray Church, where Helen Walker, the -original of Jeannie Deans, is buried, and where, on a rocky knoll under -some old oaks, is a desolate Covenanter's grave; to Ellisland, the -primitive cottage-home of Burns, overlooking the purple hills and clear -rushing Nith; and to the great desolate castle of Caerlaverock near -Solway Firth. The old churchyard of Dumfries reminded us of Père la -Chaise in its forest of tombs, but was far more picturesque. Burns is -buried there, with all his family. The exaggerated worship which follows -Burns in Scotland rather sets one against him, and shows how many a -saint got into the Calendar; for there are many there whose private -lives would as little bear inspection as his. His son, formerly a clerk -in Somerset House, had long been living at Dumfries upon a pension, and -died there three years before our visit. Many are the old red sandstone -gravestones in Dumfries and its neighbourhood bearing inscriptions to -Covenanters, telling how they were "martyrs for adhering to the word of -God, Christ's kingly government in his house, and the covenanted work -of Reformation against tyrannie, perjury, and prelacie." - -Amongst our Roman friends had been Mrs. Fotheringham of Fotheringham, -whom we visited at the so-called Fotheringham Castle, a comfortable -modern house, in Forfarshire. We went with her to spend a day with the -charming old Thomas Erskine,[165] author of the "Essays," and since well -known from his "Letters." With him lived his two beautiful and venerable -old sisters, Mrs. Stirling and Mrs. Paterson, and their home of -Linlathen contained many noble Italian pictures. Another excursion was -to visit Miss Stirling Graham at Duntrune, a beautiful place overlooking -the blue firth and bay of St. Andrews. Miss Graham was the authoress and -heroine of "Mystifications," intimately bound up with all the literary -associations of Edinburgh in the first half of the nineteenth century. -She was also the nearest surviving relation of Claverhouse, and Duntrune -was filled with relics of him.[166] She was a great bee-fancier and -bee-friend, and would allow the bees to settle all over her. "My dear, -where can you have lived all your life not to know about bees?" she said -to a young lady who asked her some simple questions about them. At -Fotheringham, the principal relic is a portrait of "the Flower of -Yarrow" (said by Sir Walter Scott to have been such an ugly old woman at -seventy), singing from a piece of music. The last cannibals in Scotland -lived in a glen near Fotheringham, where carters and ploughmen were -perpetually disappearing. The glen was known to be the abode of robbers, -and at last a strong force was sent against them, and they were all -killed, except one little girl of ten years old, whom it was thought a -shame to destroy. She had not been with her preservers many days before -she said, "Why do you never eat man's flesh? for if you once ate that, -you would never wish to eat anything else again." My mother made an -excursion from Fotheringham to see Panmure, where the housekeeper said -to her that her Lord[167] was "very bad, for he had not killed a single -_beast_ that year." - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_August 22._--I went early by rail to Stonehaven, and walked to - Dunottar. The sea was of the softest Mediterranean blue, and the - walk along the edge of the cliffs, through the cornfields, looking - down first on the old town and then on the different little coves - with their curiously twisted and richly coloured rocks, most - delightful. The castle is hidden by the uplands at first, but - crowns the ridge of a magnificent rock, which runs far out into the - sea, with a line of battered towers. In the depths are reefs - covered with seaweed, between which the sea flows up in deep green - pools. - - "A narrow ledge of rock, of which you can scarcely make out whether - it is natural or artificial, connects the castle with the mainland, - and here through an arch in the wall you look down into a second - bay, where the precipices, crested by a huge red fragment of tower, - descend direct upon the water. High up in one of the turrets lives - the keeper, a girl, who said that she was so used to climbing, that - she could go anywhere where there was the least rest for the sole - of her foot; that she did not care to have anything to hold on by, - and had never known what it was to be giddy. The 'Whigs' Vault' is - shown, in which a hundred and twenty Covenanters were chained, and, - beneath it, the awfully close stifling dungeon in which forty-eight - were confined, and many of them suffocated. The place still remains - where they were let down from the more airy vault above, and also - the hole through which their food was transmitted to them. On one - side of the dungeon is the well of brackish water which is said (as - in the prison of St. Peter) to have sprung up in one night to - quench their thirst; on the other, the hole which, in their - agonised desperation, they scratched with their hands through the - wall, and by which five-and-twenty tried to escape, but were all - dashed to pieces against the rocks or taken, except two; while, if - the dark night had only allowed them to see it, there is a little - footpath near, by which they might all have passed in safety. In - the castle also are the chamber in which the Regalia of Scotland - were concealed, and the well once supplied by pipes, the cutting of - which by Cromwell caused the surrender of the garrison." - - - "_August 23, Eccles Greig, Montrose._--This is a charming place - belonging to Kyrie's[168] father, and of which he is the heir. Miss - Grant drove me to-day to Denfenella, a beautiful ravine of - tremendous depth, where a lovely burn dashes over a precipice, and - then rushes away to the sea through depths of rock and fern, amid - which it makes a succession of deep shadowy pools. Endless are the - Scottish stories about this place: - - "That Queen Fenella--the fairy queen--first washed her clothes in - the bright shining Morne, and then walked on the tops of the trees, - by which means she escaped. - - "That Queen Fenella, having murdered her husband, fled to - Denfenella, where she flung herself over the rocks to escape - justice. - - "That Queen Fenella, widow of Kenneth III., after the death of her - husband and her own escape from the Castle of Kincardine, fled to - Denfenella, where she was taken and put to death. - - "That Queen Fenella loved a beautiful youth, but that her enemies - tried to force her to marry another; and that, rather than do so, - she fled from her father's castle, which is at an immense distance - from this, but, on reaching Denfenella, she felt that farther - escape was hopeless, and let herself float down the stream and be - carried away over the waterfall into the sea. - - "All the stories, however, agree in one fact, that at midnight the - beautiful Fenella still always walks in the braes where she died, - and still washes her clothes in the bright shining Morne. - - "We went on to the 'Came of Mathers,' a wild cove on the seashore - with a ruined castle on the farthest point of an inaccessible - precipice, beneath which the green waves rush through deep rifts of - the rock, which is worn into caves and arches. The Sheriff of these - parts was once very unpopular, and the lairds complained to King - James, who said in a joke that it would be a very good thing if the - Sheriff were boiled and cut up and made into browse. When the - lairds heard this, they beguiled the Sheriff to Gavoch, where they - had a huge caldron prepared, into which they immediately popped - him, and boiled him, and cut him up. Then, literally to carry out - the King's words, they each ate a part of him. Having done this, - they were all so dreadfully afraid of King James, that they sought - every possible means of escape, and the Laird of Arbuthnot, who had - been one of the most forward in boiling the Sheriff, built this - impregnable castle, where he lived in defiance of the King. - - "Beneath the castle is a deep cleft in the rock, which seems - endless. It is said to continue in a subterranean passage to - Lauriston. The drummer of Lauriston once went up it, and tried to - work his way through, but he never was seen again; and at night, it - is said, that the drummer of Lauriston is still heard beating his - drum in the cavern beneath." - -Upon leaving Eccles Greig, I joined my mother, and went with her to St. -Andrews, which I had always greatly desired that she should see. Even -more than the wonderful charm of the place at this time was that of -seeing much of the genial, witty, eccentric Provost, Sir Hugh Lyon -Playfair. He first came up to me when I was drawing--an old man in a -cloak--and invited me into his garden, whither we returned several -times. That garden was the most extraordinary place, representing all -the important facts of the history of the world, from chaos and the -creation of the sun down to the Reform Bill, "whence," said Sir Hugh, -"you may date the decline of the British Empire." On the same chart were -marked the lengths of all the principal ships, while representations of -the planets indicated their distance from the sun! No verbal -description, however, can recall the genial oddity of the garden's -owner. On Saturdays he used to open his garden to the public, and follow -in the crowd to hear their opinion of himself. He said they would often -say, "Ah! the poor Provost, he has more money than brains; he is sadly -deficient here," pointing to the forehead. Once some of the people said -to him, "We do so want to see the Provost; how _would_ it be possible to -see Sir Hugh?"--"Oh," he answered, "I think you had better go and look -in at the windows, and you will be sure to see him." So they all crowded -to the windows, but there was no one to be seen. "Oh," he said, "I'll -tell you why that is: that is because he is under the table. It is a way -Sir Hugh has. He is so dreadfully shy, that whenever he hears any one -coming, he always goes under the table directly." Presently, on going -out, they met an official, who, coming up, touched his hat and said, "If -you please, Sir Hugh, I've spoken to that policeman, as you ordered me," -and the horrified people discovered their mistake, to Sir Hugh's intense -amusement. - - - JOURNAL. - - "_August 30._--A stormy day, but I went by train to Tynehead for - Crichton. Two old ladies of ninety got into the carriage after me. - An old gentleman opposite made a civil speech to one of them, upon - which she tartly replied, 'I don't hear a word, for I thank - Almighty God for all His mercies, and most of all that He has made - me quite deaf, for if I heard I should be obliged to speak to - _you_, and I don't _want_ to speak to you.' - - "Crichton is a red ruined castle on a hill, with a distance of - purple moorland, and inside is the courtyard so exactly described - in 'Marmion.' With storm raging round it, it was awfully desolate. - Close by is an old stumpy-towered thoroughly Scotch church." - -After a visit to the Dalzels at North Berwick, my mother went south from -Durham. I turned backwards to pay my first visit to Mrs. Davidson--the -"Cousin Susan" with whom I was afterwards most intimate. "The beautiful -Lord Strathmore," my great-grandmother's brother, so often painted by -Angelica Kauffmann, who married "the Unhappy Countess," had two -daughters, Maria and Anna. After Lady Strathmore was released from her -brutal second husband, the one thing she had the greatest horror of for -her daughters was matrimony, and she did all she could to prevent their -seeing any one. But Lady Anna Bowes, while her mother was living in -Fludyer Street, made the acquaintance of a young lawyer who lived on the -other side the way, and performed the extraordinary acrobatic feat of -walking across a plank suspended across the street to his rooms,[169] -where she was married to him. The marriage was an unhappy one, but Mr. -Jessop did not survive long, and left Lady Anna with two young -daughters, of whom one died early: the other was "Cousin Susan." Lady -Anna was given a home (in a house adjoining the park at Gibside) by her -brother, John, Lord Strathmore, and her daughters were brought up in -sister-like intimacy with his (illegitimate) son, John Bowes. Susan -Jessop afterwards married Mr. Davidson of Otterburn, who, being a very -rich man, to please her, bought and endowed her with the old Ridley -property--Ridley Hall on South Tyne. - -Cousin Susan was an active, bright little woman, always beautifully -dressed, and with the most perfect figure imaginable. No one except Mr. -Bowes knew how old she was, and he would not tell, but she liked to be -thought very young, and still danced at Newcastle balls. She was a -capital manager of her large estate, entered into all business questions -herself, and would walk for hours about her woods, marking timber, -planning bridges or summer-houses, and contriving walks and staircases -in the most difficult and apparently inaccessible places. - -Ridley Hall was the most intense source of pride to Cousin Susan, and -though the house was very ugly, the place was indeed most beautiful. The -house stood on a grassy hill above the South Tyne Railway, with a large -flower-garden on the other side, where, through the whole summer, three -hundred and sixty-five flower-beds were bright with every colour of the -rainbow. I never saw such a use of annuals as at Ridley Hall--there were -perfect sheets of Colinsia, Nemophila, and other common things, from -which, in the seed-time, Cousin Susan would gather what she called her -harvest, which it took her whole evenings to thresh out and arrange. A -tiny inner garden, concealed by trees and rockwork, would have been -quite charming to children, with a miniature thatched cottage, filled -with the smallest furniture that could be put into use, bookcases, and -pictures, &c. Beyond the garden was a lovely view towards the moors, -ever varied by the blue shadows of clouds fleeting across them. Thence -an avenue, high above the river, led to the kitchen-garden, just where -the rushing Allen Water, seen through a succession of green arches, was -hurrying to its junction with the Tyne. Here one entered upon the wood -walks, which wound for five miles up and down hill, through every -exquisite variety of scenery--to Bilberry Hill Moss House, with its -views, across the woods, up the gorge of the Allen to the old tower of -Staward Peel--to the Raven's Crag, the great yellow sandstone cliff -crowned with old yew-trees, which overhangs the river--and across the -delicately swung chain-bridge by the Birkie Brae to a lonely tarn in the -hills, returning by the Swiss Cottage and the Craggy Pass, a steep -staircase under a tremendous overhanging rock. - -During my first visits at Ridley Hall, words would fail to express my -enjoyment of the natural beauties of the place, and I passed many -delightful hours reading in the mossy walks, or sketching amongst the -huge rocks in the bed of the shallow river; but at Ridley more than -anywhere else I have learnt how insufficient mere beauty is to fill -one's life; and in later years, when poor Cousin Susan's age and -infirmities increased, I felt terribly the desolation of the place, the -miles and miles of walks kept up for no one else to enjoy them--the -hours, and days, and weeks in which one might wander for ever and never -meet a human being. - -During my earlier visits, however, Cousin Susan would fill her house in -the summer, especially in the shooting season. There was nothing -particularly intellectual in the people, but a large party in a -beautiful place generally finds sources of enjoyment: which were always -sought on foot, for there was only one road near Ridley Hall, that along -the Tyne valley, which led to Hexham on the east and Haltwhistle on the -west. Constant guests and great friends of Cousin Susan were the two old -Miss Coulsons--Mary and Arabella--of Blenkinsop, primitive, pleasant old -ladies, and two of the most kind-hearted people I have ever known. -Cousin Susan delighted in her denomination of "the Great Lady of the -Tyne," and, in these earlier years of our intimacy, was adored by her -tenantry and the people of the neighbouring villages, who several times, -when she appeared at a public gathering, insisted on taking out her -horses and drawing her home. With her neighbours of a higher class, -Cousin Susan was always very exacting of attention, and very apt to take -offence. - -But no account of Ridley Hall can be complete without alluding to the -dogs, of which there were great numbers, treated quite as human beings -and part of the family. An extra dog was never considered an infliction; -thus, when Cousin Susan engaged a new servant, he or she was always -told that a dog would be especially annexed to them, and considered to -belong to them. When the footman came in to put on the coals, his dog -came in with him; when you met the housemaid in the passage, she was -accompanied by her dog. On the first day of my arrival, Cousin Susan -said at dessert, "John, now bring in the boys," and when I was expecting -the advent of a number of unknown young cousins, the footman threw open -the door, and volleys of little dogs rushed into the room, but all white -Spitzes except the Chowdy-Tow, a most comical Japanese. Church service -at Ridley Hall was held at the Beltingham Chapel, where Cousin Susan was -supreme. The miserable little clergyman, who used to pray for -"Queen-Victori-[=a]," was never allowed to begin till she had entered -the church and taken her place in a sort of tribune on a level with the -altar. Many of the dogs went to church too, with the servants to whom -they were annexed. This was so completely considered a matter of course, -that I never observed it as anything absurd till one day when my -connections the Scotts (daughters of Alethea Stanley) came to the chapel -from Sir Edward Blackett's, and were received into Cousin Susan's pew. -In the Confession, one Miss Scott after another became overwhelmed with -uncontrollable fits of laughter. When I looked up, I saw the black noses -and white ears of a row of little Spitz dogs, one over each of the -prayer-books in the opposite seat. Cousin Susan was furiously angry, and -declared that the Scotts should never come to Ridley Hall again: it was -not because they had laughed in church, but because they had laughed at -the dogs! - -Upon leaving Ridley Hall, I paid another visit, which I then thought -scarcely less interesting. My grandmother's first cousin, John, Earl of -Strathmore (who left £10,000 to my grandfather), was a very agreeable -and popular man, but by no means a moral character. Living near his -castle of Streatlam was a beautiful girl named Mary Milner, daughter of -a market-gardener at Staindrop. With this girl he went through a false -ceremony of marriage, after which, in all innocence, she lived with him -as his wife. Their only boy, John Bowes, was sent to Eton as Lord -Glamis. On his deathbed Lord Strathmore confessed to Mary Milner that -their marriage was false and that she was not really his wife. She said, -"I understand that you mean to marry me now, but that will not do: there -must be no more secret marriages!" and, ill as he was, she had every -one within reach summoned to attend the ceremony, and she had him -carried to church and was married to him before all the world. Lord -Strathmore died soon after he re-entered the house, but he left her -Countess of Strathmore. It was too late to legitimatise John Bowes. - -Lady Strathmore always behaved well. As soon as she was a widow, she -said to all the people whom she had known as her husband's relations and -friends, that if they liked to keep up her acquaintance, she should be -very grateful to them, and always glad to see them when they came to -her, but that she should never enter any house on a visit again: and she -never did. My grandmother, and, in later years, "Italima," had always -appreciated Lady Strathmore, and so had Mrs. Davidson, and the kindness -they showed her was met with unbounded gratitude. Lady Strathmore -therefore received with the greatest effusion my proposal of a visit to -Gibside. She was a stately woman, still beautiful, and she had educated -herself since her youth, but, from her quiet life (full of -unostentatious charity), she had become very eccentric. One of her -oddities was that her only measurement of time was one thousand years. -"Is it long since you have seen Mrs. Davidson?" I said. "Yes, one -thousand years!"--"Have you had your dog a long time?"--"A thousand -years."--"That must be a very old picture."--"Yes, a thousand years -old." - -Seeing no one but Mr. Hutt, the agreeable tutor of her son, Lady -Strathmore had married him, and by her wealth and influence he became -member for Gateshead. He was rather a prim man, but could make himself -very agreeable, and he was vastly civil to me. I think he rather -tyrannised over Lady Strathmore, but he was very well behaved to her in -public. Soon after her death[170] he married again. - -[Illustration: GIBSIDE.] - -Gibside was a beautiful place. The long many-orielled battlemented house -was reached through exquisite woods feathering down to the Derwent. A -tall column in the park commemorates the victory of George Bowes (the -father of the unhappy 9th Lady Strathmore, who married a Blakiston, the -heiress of Gibside) over Sir Robert Walpole at a Newcastle election. -There was a charming panelled drawing-room, full of old furniture and -pictures. The house had two ghosts, one "in a silk dress," being that -Lady Tyrconnel who died in the house while living there on somewhat too -intimate terms with John, Earl of Strathmore. He gave her a funeral -which almost ruined the estate. Her face was painted like the most -brilliant life. He dressed her head himself! and then, having decked her -out in all her jewels, and covered her with Brussels lace from head to -foot, he sent her up to London, causing her to lie in state at every -town upon the road, and finally to be buried in Westminster Abbey! - -At the end of the garden was the chapel, beneath which many of my -Strathmore ancestors are buried--a beautiful building externally, but -hideous within, with the pulpit in the centre. During the service on -Sundays a most extraordinary effect was produced by the clerk not only -giving out the hymns, but singing them entirely through afterwards by -himself, in a harsh nasal twang, without the very slightest help from -any member of the congregation. - - * * * * * - -After we parted at Paris in the autumn of 1858, Mrs. Hare and my sister, -as usual, spent the winter at Rome, returning northwards by the seat of -the war in Lombardy. Thence Esmeralda wrote:-- - - "_Turin, May 25, 1859._--Instead of a _dolce far niente_ at - Frascati or Albano, we have been listening to the roaring of - cannon. The Austrians are said to be fourteen miles off, but there - is no apparent excitement in the town. The juggler attracts a crowd - around him as usual in the piazza, the ladies walk about with their - fans and smelling-bottles, the men sing _vivas_. The town is - guarded by the _guardia civile_; all the regular troops have left - for the battlefield. The nobility are either shut up or walk about - in the streets, for all their carriage and riding horses have been - taken from them for the use of the army. Bulletins are published - twice a day, and give a short account of the engagements. The - Piedmontese are confident of ultimate success: fresh French troops - are pouring in every day. The lancers came in this morning with - flying colours, splendidly mounted, and were received with - thundering applause, the people shouting and clapping their hands, - waving their handkerchiefs, and decorating them with bouquets and - wreaths of flowers. I hear the Emperor has been waiting for the - arrival of this regiment to begin war in earnest, and a great - battle is expected on Monday.... We left Genoa at night, and came - on by the ten o'clock train to the seat of war. The French were - mounting guard in Alessandria,--the Zouaves and Turcos in their - African dress lounging at the railway station. The Austrians had - been repulsed the day before in trying to cross the river; the - cannon had been rolling all day, but the officers were chatting as - gaily as if nothing had happened, and were looking into the railway - carriages for amusement. I longed to stop at Alessandria and go to - see the camp, but Mama would not hear of it. There were troops - encamped at distances all along the line.... We have had no - difficulty in coming by land, though people tried to frighten us. - We proceeded by _vetturino_ to Siena: everything was quiet, and we - met troops of volunteers singing 'Viva l'Italia'--so radiant, they - seemed to be starting for a festival. Five hundred volunteers went - with us in the same train, and when we arrived at Pisa, more - volunteers were parading the streets amid the acclamations of the - people. At Genoa, hundreds of French soldiers were walking about - the town, looking in at the shop-windows. Prince Napoleon - Bonaparte was walking about the Via Balbi with his hands in his - pockets, followed by great crowds. - - "We packed up everything before leaving Palazzo Parisani, in case - we should not be able to return there next winter. I will not think - of the misery of being kept out of Rome; it would be too great. - Perhaps you will see us in England this year, but it is not at all - probable." - - * * * * * - -Alas! my sister did not return to Rome that year, or for many years -after. "L'homme s'agite et Dieu le mêne."[171] Parisani was never again -really her home. A terrible cloud of misfortune was gathering over her, -accompanied by a series of adventures the most mysterious and the most -incredible. I should not believe all that happened myself, unless I had -followed it day by day; therefore I cannot expect others to believe it. -As Lucas Malet says, "English people distrust everything that does not -carry ballast in the shape of obvious dulness," and they are not likely, -therefore, to believe what follows. But it is _true_ nevertheless. In -narrating what occurred, I shall confine myself to a simple narrative of -facts: as to the source of the extraordinary powers possessed by the -lady who for some time exercised a great influence upon the fortunes of -our family, I can offer no suggestion. - -When Mrs. Hare and my sister arrived at Geneva in June 1859, though -their fortunes had suffered very considerably by the Paul bankruptcy, -they were still in possession of a large income, and of every luxury of -life. To save the trouble of taking a villa, they engaged an excellent -suite of apartments in the Hôtel de la Metropole, where they intended -remaining for the greater part of the summer. - -Soon after her arrival, Italima (Mrs. Hare) wrote to her banker for -money, and was much astonished to hear from him that she had overdrawn -her account by £150. Knowing that she ought at that season to have -plenty of money in the bank, she wrote to her attorney, Mr. B. (who had -the whole management of her affairs), to desire that he would pay the -rest of the money due into Coutts', and that he would send her £100 -immediately. She had no answer from Mr. B., and she wrote again and -again, without any answer. She was not alarmed, because Mr. B. was -always in the habit of going abroad in the summer, and she supposed that -her letters did not reach him because he was away. Still, as she really -wanted the money, it was very inconvenient. - -One day, when she came down to the table-d'hôte, the place next to her -was occupied by an elderly lady, who immediately attempted to enter into -conversation with her. Italima, who always looked coldly upon strangers, -answered shortly, and turned away. "Je vois, Madame," said the lady, -with a most peculiar intonation, "que vous aimez les princesses et les -grandeurs." "Yes," said Italima, who was never otherwise than perfectly -truthful, "you are quite right; I do." And after that--it was so very -singular--a sort of conversation became inevitable. But the lady soon -turned to my sister and said, "_You_ are very much interested about the -war in Italy: _you_ have friends in the Italian army: _you_ are longing -to know how things are going on. I _see_ it all: to-morrow there will be -a great battle, and if you come to my room to-morrow morning, you will -hear of it, for I shall be _there_."--"Yes," said Esmeralda, but she -went away thinking the lady was perfectly mad--quite raving. - -The next morning, as my sister was going down the passage of the hotel, -she heard a strange sound in one of the bedrooms. The door was ajar, she -pushed it rather wider open, and there, upon two chairs, lay the lady, -quite rigid, her eyes distended, speaking very rapidly. Esmeralda -fetched her mother, and there they both remained transfixed from 10 A.M. -to 3 P.M. The lady was evidently at a great battle: she described the -movements of the troops: she echoed the commands: she shuddered at the -firing and the slaughter, and she never ceased speaking. At 3 P.M. she -grew calm, her voice ceased, her muscles became flexible, she was soon -quite herself. My sister spoke to her of what had taken place: she -seemed to have scarcely any remembrance of it. At 6 P.M. they went down -to dinner. Suddenly the lady startled the table-d'hôte by dropping her -knife and fork and exclaiming, "Oh, l'Empereur! l'Empereur! il est en -danger." She described a flight, a confusion, clouds of dust arising--in -fact, all the final act of the battle of Solferino. That night the -telegrams of Solferino came to Geneva, and for days afterwards the -details kept arriving. Everything was what the lady described. It was at -the battle of Solferino that she had been. - -When my sister questioned the landlord, she learnt that the lady was -known as Madame de Trafford, that she had been _née_ Mademoiselle -Martine Larmignac (de l'Armagnac?), and that she was possessed of what -were supposed to be supernatural powers. Esmeralda herself describes -the next incident in her acquaintance with Madame de Trafford. - - * * * * * - - "One day when we were sitting in our room at Geneva, a lady came - in, a very pleasing-looking person, perfectly _gracieuse_, even - _distinguée_. She sat down, and then said that the object of her - visit was to ask assistance for a charity; that Madame de Trafford, - who was living below us, had given her sixty francs, and that she - hoped we should not refuse to give her something also. Then she - told us a story of a banker's family at Paris who had been totally - ruined, and who were reduced to the utmost penury, and living in - the greatest destitution at Lausanne. She entered into the details - of the story, dwelling upon the beauty of the children, their - efforts at self-help, and various other details. When she had - ended, Mama said she regretted that she was unable to give her more - than ten francs, but that she should be glad to contribute so much, - and I was quite affected by the story, which was most beautifully - told. - - "Meantime, Madame de Trafford, by her secondsight, knew that she - was going to be robbed, yet she would not forego her usual custom - of keeping a large sum of money by her. She wrapped up a parcel of - bank-notes and some napoleons in a piece of newspaper, and threw it - upon the top of a wardrobe in which her dresses were hung. She told - me of this, and said she had hidden the money so well that it was - unlikely that any one could find it. - - "In a few days, the lady came again to tell us of the improvement - in the poor family, and she also went to see Madame de Trafford. - She was alone with her, and Madame de Trafford told her about her - money, and showed her the place where she had put it, asking her if - she did not think it well concealed. - - "Some days after, when we came up from dinner, we found the same - lady, the _quêteuse_, walking up and down the gallery fanning - herself. She said she had been waiting for Madame de Trafford, but - had found her apartment so hot, she had left it to walk about the - passage. We all went into the public sitting-room together, but - Mama and I stayed to read the papers, whilst the lady passed on - with Madame de Trafford to her room beyond, as she said she wished - to speak to her. Soon she returned alone, and began talking to us, - when ... the door opened, and in came Madame de Trafford, - dreadfully agitated, looking perfectly livid, and exclaiming in a - voice of thunder, 'On m'a volé,' and then, turning to the lady, 'Et - voilà la voleuse.' Then, becoming quite calm, she said coldly, - 'Madame, vous étiez seule pendant que nous étions à table; je vous - prie donc de vous ... déshabiller.'--'Mais, Madame, c'est inoui de - me soupçonner,' said the lady, 'mais ... enfin ... Madame....' But - she was compelled to pass before Madame de Trafford into the - bedroom and to undo her dress. In her purse were ten napoleons, but - of these no notice was taken; she might have had them before. Then - Madame de Trafford gave the lady five minutes to drop the notes she - had taken, and came out to us--'Car c'est elle!' she said. In five - minutes the lady came out of the room and passed us, saying, - 'Vraiment cette Madame de Trafford c'est une personne très - exaltée,' and went out. Then Madame de Trafford called us. 'Venez, - Madame Hare,' she said. We went into the bedroom, and in the corner - of the floor lay a bundle of bank-notes. 'Elle les a jeté,' said - Madame de Trafford." - - * * * * * - -Of the same week my sister narrates the following:-- - - "One Sunday morning, the heat was so great, I had been almost - roasted in going to church. In the afternoon Madame de Trafford - came in. 'Venez, ma chère, venez avec moi à vêpres,' she said. 'Oh, - non, il y a trop de soleil, c'est impossible, et je vous conseille - de vous garder aussi d'un coup de soleil.'--'Moi, je vais à - l'église,' she answered, 'et aussi je vais à pied, parceque je ne - veux pas payer une voiture, et personne ne me menera pour rien; il - n'y a pas de charité dans ce monde.' And she _went_. - - "When she came back she said, 'Eh bien, ma chère, je suis allé à - vêpres, mais je ne suis pas allé à pied. Je n'étais que sorti de - l'hôtel, quand je voyais tous ces cochers avec leurs voitures en - face de moi. "Et que feras tu donc, si tu trouveras la charité en - chemin?" me disait la voix. "Je lui donnerai un napoléon." Eh bien, - un de ces cochers, je le sentais, me menerait pour la charité: je - le sentais, mais j'avançais toujours; et voilà que Pierre, qui nous - avait amené avec sa voiture l'autre journée, me poursuivit avec sa - voiture en criant, "Mais, madame, où allez vous donc: venez, - montez, je ne veux pas vous voir vous promener comme cela; je vous - menerai pour rien."--"Mais, Pierre, que voulez vous donc," je dis. - "Mais montez, madame, montez; je vous menerai pour rien," il - repetait, et je montais. Pierre m'emmenait à l'église, et voila la - voix qui me dit, "Et ton napoléon," parceque j'avais dit que si je - trouvais la charité en chemin, je lui donnerais un napoléon. Mais - je n'ai pas voulu lui donner le napoléon de suite, parceque cela - pouvait lui faire tourner la tête, et j'ai dit, "Venez, Pierre, - venez me voir demain au soir. Vous avez fait un acte de la charité: - Dieu vous recompensera."' - - "Madame de Trafford always wore a miniature of the Emperor Napoleon - in a ring which she had: the ring opened, and inside was the - miniature. The next morning she showed it to me, and asked me to - get it out of the ring, as she was going to send the ring to a - jeweller to be repaired. I got scissors, &c., and poked, and - thumped, and pulled at the picture, but I could not get it out of - the ring: I could not move it in the least. - - "In the morning Mama was with Madame de Trafford when Pierre came. - I was not there. Pierre was a dull stupid Swiss lout of a _cocher_. - 'Madame m'a commandé de venir,' he said, and he could say nothing - else. - - "Then Madame de Trafford held out a napoleon, saying, 'Tenez, - Pierre, voilà un napoléon pour vous, parceque vous avez voulu faire - un acte de la charité, et ordinairement il n'y a pas de charité - dans ce monde.' ... But as Madame de Trafford stretched forth her - hand, the ring flew open and the portrait vanished. It did not slip - out of the ring, it did not fall--it vanished! it ceased to exist! - 'Oh, le portrait, le portrait!' cried Madame de Trafford. She - screamed: she was perfectly frantic. 'Quel portrait?' said Pierre, - for he had seen none: he was stupefied: he could not think what it - all meant. As for Mama, she was so terrified, she rushed out of the - room. She locked her door, she declared nothing should induce her - to remain in the same room with Madame de Trafford again. - - "I went down to Madame de Trafford. She offered a napoleon to any - one who would find the portrait. She was wild. I never saw her in - such a state, never. Of course every one hunted, _garçons_, - _filles-de-chambre_, every one, but not a trace of the portrait - could any one find. At last Madame de Trafford became quite calm; - she said, 'Je sens que dans une semaine j'aurai mon portrait, et je - vois que ce sera un des braves du grand Napoléon qui me le - rapportera.' - - "I thought this very extraordinary, and really I did not remember - that there was any soldier of the old Napoleon in the house. I was - so accustomed to Félix as our old servant, it never would have - occurred to me to think of him. The week passed. 'C'est la fin de - la semaine,' said Madame de Trafford, 'et demain j'aurai mon - portrait.' - - "We had never told Victoire about the portrait, for she was so - superstitious, we thought she might refuse to stay in the house - with Madame de Trafford if we told her. But the next morning she - came to Mama and said that a child who was playing in a garret at - the top of the house had found there, amongst some straw, the - smallest portrait ever seen, and had given it to Félix, and Félix - had shown it to her, saying, 'Voila c'est bien fait çà; çà n'est - pas un bagatelle; çà n'est pas un joujoux çà!' and he had put it - away. 'Why, it is the lost portrait,' said Mama. 'What portrait?' - said Victoire. Then Mama told Victoire how Madame de Trafford had - lost the portrait out of her ring, and Félix took it back to her. - It was when Félix took back the portrait that I first remembered he - had been a soldier of the old Napoleon, and was even then in - receipt of a pension for his services in the Moscow campaign. - - "Félix refused the napoleon Madame de Trafford had offered as a - reward; but she insisted on his having it, so he took it, and wears - it on his watchchain always: he almost looks upon it as a - talisman." - - * * * * * - -As Italima and Esmeralda saw more of Madame de Trafford, they learned -that she was the second wife of Mr. Trafford of Wroxham in Norfolk. He -did not live with her, because he said that when he married her he -intended to marry Mademoiselle Martine Larmignac, but he did not intend -to marry "Maricot," as she called the spirit--the "voice"--which spoke -through her lips, and live with Maricot he would not. He showed his wife -every possible attention, and placed implicit confidence in her. He left -her entire control of her fortune. He constantly visited her, and always -came to take leave of her when she set off on any of her journeys; but -he could not live with her. - -One day Italima received a letter from her eldest son Francis, who said -that he knew she would not believe him, but that Mr. B. was a penniless -bankrupt, and that she would receive no more money from him. She did not -believe Francis a bit, still the letter made her anxious and -uncomfortable: no money had come in answer to her repeated letters, and -there were many things at Geneva to be paid for. That day she came down -to the table-d'hôte looking very much harassed. Madame de Trafford said -to my sister, "Your mother looks very much agitated: what is it?" -Esmeralda felt that, whether she told her or not, Madame de Trafford -would know what had happened, and she told her the simple truth. Madame -de Trafford said, "Now, do not be surprised at what I am going to say; -don't be grateful to me; it's my vocation in life. Here is £80: take it -at once. That is the sum you owe in Geneva, and you have no money. I -knew that you wanted that sum, and I brought it down to dinner with me. -Now I know all that is going to happen: it is written before me like an -open book,--and I know how important it is that you should go to England -at once. I have prepared for that, and I am going with you. In an hour -you must start for England." And such was the confidence that Italima -and Esmeralda now had in Madame de Trafford, such was her wonderful -power and influence, that they did all she told them: they paid their -bills at Geneva with the money she gave, they left Félix and Victoire to -pack up and to follow them to Paris, and they started by the night-train -the same evening with Madame de Trafford. - -That was an awful night. My sister never lost the horror of it. "Madame -de Trafford had told me that extraordinary things often happened to her -between two and four in the morning," said Esmeralda. "When we went with -her through the night in the coupé of the railway-carriage, she was very -anxious that I should sleep. Mama slept the whole time. 'Mais dormez -donc, ma chère,' she said, 'dormez donc.'--'Oh, je dormirai bientôt,' I -always replied, but I was quite determined to keep awake. It was very -dreadful, I thought, but if anything _did_ happen, I would see what it -was. As it drew near two o'clock I felt the most awful sensation of -horror come over me. Then a cold perspiration broke out all over me. -Then I heard--oh, I cannot describe it! a most awful sound--a voice--a -sort of squeak. It spoke, it was a language; but it was a language I -did not understand,[172] and then something came out of the mouth of -Madame de Trafford--bur-r-r-r! It passed in front of me, black but -misty. I rushed at it. Madame de Trafford seized me and forced me back -upon the seat. I felt as if I should faint. Her expression was quite -awful. No one knows it but Mama. Some time after, Mr. Trafford spoke to -me of a hunchback in Molière, who had a voice speaking inside him, over -which he had no control, and then he said, 'What my wife has is like -that.'" - -As they drew near Paris, Madame de Trafford began to describe her -apartments to my sister. It was like a description of Aladdin's palace, -and Esmeralda did not believe it. When they reached the station, Madame -de Trafford said, "I have one peculiarity in my house: I have no -servants. I used to have them, but I did not like them; so now, when I -am at Paris, I never have them: therefore, on our way from the station, -we will stop as we pass through the Rue St. Honoré, and buy the bread, -and milk, and candles--in fact, all the things we want." And so they -did. - -The carriage stopped before a _porte cochère_ in the Champs Elysées, -where Madame de Trafford got a key from the concierge, and preceded her -guests up a staircase. When she unlocked the door of the apartment, it -was quite dark, and hot and stuffy, as closed rooms are, but when the -shutters were opened, all that Madame de Trafford had said as to the -magnificence of the furniture, &c., was more than realised--only there -were no servants. Madame de Trafford herself brought down mattresses -from the attics, she aired and made the beds, and she lighted the fire -and boiled the kettle for supper and breakfast. - -Of that evening my sister wrote:-- - - "I shall never forget a scene with Madame de Trafford. I had gone - to rest in my room, but I did not venture to stay long. She also - had been up all night, but that was nothing to her--_paresse_ was - what she could never endure. When I went into her room, she had the - concierge with her, but she was greatly excited. She was even then - contending with her spirit. 'Taisez-vous, Maricot,' she was - exclaiming. 'Voulez vous vous taire: taisez-vous, Maricot.' I saw - that the concierge was getting very angry, quite boiling with - indignation, for there was no one else present, and she thought - Madame de Trafford was talking to her. 'Mais, madame, madame, je ne - parle pas,' she said. But Madame de Trafford went on, 'Va-t'en, - Maricot: va-t'en donc.'--'Mais, madame, je suis toute prête,' said - the concierge, and she went out, banging the door behind her."[173] - - * * * * * - -Madame de Trafford told my sister in Paris that her extraordinary power -had first come to her, as it then existed, many years before in the -Church of S. Roch. She had gone there, not to pray, but to look about -her, and, as she was walking round the ambulatory, there suddenly came -to her the extraordinary sensation that she _knew_ all that those -kneeling around her were thinking, feeling, and wishing. Her own -impression was one of horror, and an idea that the power came from evil; -but kneeling down then and there before the altar, she made a solemn -dedication of herself; she prayed that such strange knowledge might be -taken away, but, if that were not to be, made a vow to turn the evil -against itself, by using it always for good. - -People suddenly ruined--whom Madame de Trafford called "the poor -rich"--she considered to be her peculiar vocation, because in her -younger life she had twice been utterly ruined herself. Once it was in -England. She had only a shilling left in the world, and, in her quaint -way of narrating things, she said, "Having only a shilling left in the -world, I thought what I had better do, and I thought that, as I had only -a shilling left in the world, I had better go out and take a walk. I -went out, and I met a man, and the man said to me, 'Give me something, -for I have nothing left in the world,' and I gave him sixpence, and I -went on. And I met a woman, and the woman said to me, 'Give me -something, for I have nothing whatever left in the world.' And I said, -'I cannot give you anything, for I have only sixpence left in the world, -so I cannot give you anything.' And the woman said, 'But you are much -richer than I, for you are well dressed; you have a good bonnet, a gown, -and shawl, while I am clothed in rags, and so you must give me -something.' And I thought, 'Well, that is true,' so I gave her the -sixpence, and I went on. At the corner of the street I found a sovereign -lying in the street. With that sovereign I paid for food and lodging. -The next day I had remittances from an uncle I had long supposed to be -dead, and who expressed the wish that I should come to him. He died and -left me his heiress: money has since then always flowed in, and I go -about to look for the poor rich." A presentiment would come to Madame de -Trafford, or the voice of Maricot would tell her, where she would be -needed, and she would set out. Thus she went to Geneva to help some one -unknown. She moved from hotel to hotel until she found the right one; -and she sat by person after person at the table-d'hôte, till she felt -she was sitting by the right one; then she waited quietly till the -moment came when she divined what was wanted. - -The morning after their arrival in Paris, Madame de Trafford stood by my -sister's bedside when she awoke, ready dressed, and having already put -away most of the things in the apartment. As soon as breakfast was over, -a carriage came to take them to the station, and they set off for -Boulogne, where Madame de Trafford set her guests afloat for England -with £40 in their pockets. Thus they arrived on the scene of action. - -Straight from London Bridge Station they drove to Mr. B.'s office. He -was there, and apparently delighted to see them. "Well, Mr. B., and pray -why have you sent me no money?" asked Italima. "Why, I've sent you -quantities of money," said Mr. B., without a change of countenance. "If -you write to Messrs. O. & L., the bankers at Geneva, you will find it's -all there. I have sent you money several times," and he said this with -such perfect _sangfroid_ that they believed him. Italima then said, -"Well now, Mr. B., I should wish to see the mortgages," because from -time to time he had persuaded her to transfer £46,000 of her own fortune -from other securities to mortgages on a Mr. Howell's estate in Cornwall. -Mr. B. replied, "Do you know, when you say that, it would almost seem as -if you did not quite trust me."--"That I cannot help," said Italima, -"but I should wish to see the mortgages."--"There is no difficulty -whatever," said Mr. B.; "you could have seen them last year if you had -wished: to-day you cannot see them because they are in the Bank, and the -Bank is closed, but you can fix any other day you like for seeing -them,"--and they fixed the following Wednesday. Afterwards Mr. B. said, -"Well, Mrs. Hare, you do not seem to have trusted me as I deserve, still -I think it my duty to give you the pleasant news that you will be richer -this year than you have ever been in your life. A great deal of money is -recovered from the Paul bankruptcy, which you never expected to see -again; all your other investments are prospering, and your income will -certainly be larger than it has ever been before." Italima was perfectly -satisfied. That evening she made my sister write to Mrs. Julius Hare and -say, "We are convinced that Mr. B. is the best friend we have in the -world. Augustus was always talking against him, and we have been brought -to England by a raving mad Frenchwoman who warned us against him; but we -will never doubt or mistrust him any more." - -When the Wednesday came on which they were to see the mortgages, Italima -was not well, and she said to my sister, "I am quite glad I am not well, -because it will be an excuse for you to go and fetch the mortgages, when -we can look them over quietly together." My sister went off to Lincoln's -Inn, but before going to Mr. B., she called at the house of another -lawyer, whom she knew very well, to ask if he had heard any reports -about Mr. B. "I pray to God, Miss Hare, that you are safe from that -man," was all he said. She rushed on to the office. Mr. B. was gone: the -whole place was _sotto-sopra_: everything was gone: there were no -mortgages: there was no Mr. Howell's estate: there was no money: £60,000 -was gone: there was absolutely nothing left whatever. - -Never was ruin more complete! Italima and Esmeralda had _nothing_ left: -not a loaf of bread, not a penny to buy one--nothing. My sister said she -prayed within herself as to how she could possibly go back and tell her -mother, and it seemed to her as if a voice said, "Go back, go back, tell -her at once," and she went. When she reached the door of Ellison's -hotel, where they were staying, the waiter said a gentleman was sitting -with her mother, but it seemed as if the voice said, "Go up, go up, tell -her at once." When she went in, her mother was sitting on the sofa, and -a strange gentleman was talking to her. She went up to her mother and -said, "Mama, we are totally ruined: Mr. B. has taken flight: we have -lost everything we have in the world, and we never can hope to have -anything any more." The strange gentleman came in like a special -intervention of Providence. He was a Mr. Touchet, who had known Italima -well when she was quite a girl, who had never seen her since, and who -had come that day for the first time to renew his acquaintance. He was -full of commiseration and sympathy with them over what he heard; he at -once devoted himself to their service, and begged them to make use of -him: the mere accident of his presence just broke the first shock. - -Lady Normanby was at Sydenham when the catastrophe occurred; she at once -came up to London and helped her cousins for the moment. Then Lady -Shelley, the daughter-in-law of Italima's old friend Mrs. Shelley (see -chap. i.), fetched them home to her at Boscombe near Bournemouth, and -was unboundedly kind to them. Sir Percy Shelley offered them a cottage -rent-free in his pine-woods, but they only remained there three weeks, -and then went to Lady Williamson at Whitburn Hall near Sunderland, where -I first saw them. - -Everything had happened exactly as Madame de Trafford had predicted. My -sister wrote to me:-- - - - "The most dreadful news. We are _ruined_. Mr. B. has bolted, and is - a fraudulent bankrupt. Nobody knows where he is. We are nearly - wild. God help us. I hardly know what I am writing. What is to - become of Francis and William? We hardly know what we have lost. I - fear B. has seized on Mama's mortgages. Pray for us." - - -We received this letter when we were staying at Fotheringham. We were -very much shocked, but we said that when my sister talked of absolute -ruin, it was only a figure of speech. She and her mother might be very -much poorer than they had been, but there was a considerable marriage -settlement; that, we imagined, B. could not have possessed himself of. - -But it was too true; he had taken everything. The marriage settlement -was in favour of younger children, I being one of the three who would -have benefited. Some years before, Mr. B. had been to Italima and -persuaded her to give up £2000 of my brother William's portion, during -her life, in order to pay his debts. On her assenting to this, Mr. B. -had subtly entered the whole sum mentioned in the settlement, instead of -£2000, in the deed of release, and the two trustees had signed without a -question, so implicit was their faith in Mr. B., who passed not only for -a very honourable, but for a very religious man. Mr. B. had used the -£2000 to pay William's debts, and had taken all the rest of the money -for himself. About Italima's own fortune he had been even less -scrupulous. Mr. Howell's estate in Cornwall had never existed at all. -Mr. B. had taken the £46,000 for himself; there had been no mortgages, -but he had paid the interest as usual, and the robbery had passed -undetected. He had kept Italima from coming upon him during the last -summer by cutting off her supplies, and all might have gone on as usual -if Madame de Trafford had not brought his victims to England, and -Italima had not insisted upon seeing the mortgages. - -The next details we received were from my aunt Eleanor Paul. - - - "_Sept._ 1, 1859.--B. is bankrupt and has absconded. They think he - is gone to Sweden. The first day there were bills filed against him - for £100,000, the second day for £100,000 more, all money that he - swindled people out of. I have not suffered personally, as the - instant I heard there was anything against him, I went to his - house, demanded my securities, put them in my pocket, and walked - away with them. But I fear B. has made away with all the mortgages - your mother and sister were supposed to have, or that they never - existed, as they are not forthcoming. It is supposed that he has - also made away with all the trust-money, besides the £5000 left to - your sister by her aunt. At this moment they are penniless.... Your - mother went to B. as soon as she arrived and desired to have the - mortgages. He promised to have them ready in a few days, and - meantime he talked her over, and made her believe he was a most - honourable man. Before the day came he had bolted...." - - -I went from Gibside to Whitburn to be there when Italima arrived. Her -despair and misery were terrible to witness. She did nothing all day -but lament and wail over her fate, and was most violent to my sister, -who bore her own loss with the utmost calmness and patience. Nothing -could exceed Lady Williamson's kindness to them. She pressed them to -stay on with her, and cared for them with unwearied generosity during -the first ten months of their destitution. Many other friends offered -help, and the Liddell cousins promised an annual subscription for their -maintenance; but the generosity which most came home to their hearts was -that of their old Roman friend Mr. William Palmer, who out of his very -small income pressed upon them a cheque for £150. In this, as in all -other cases of the kind, those who had least gave most. One idea was to -obtain admission for them to St. Catherine's Almshouses for ladies of -good family, but this was unwisely, though generously, opposed by my -Aunt Eleanor. - - - "I am inclined to quarrel with you for ever mentioning the word - 'Almshouse.' I have lived with my sister during her richer days, - and certainly do not mean to desert her in her distress. I only - wish she could think as I do. We can live in a smaller domain very - happily, and if the worst come to the worst, I have £300 a year, - and if the Liddell family allow £150, that, with the colliery - shares, would make up £500 a year between us: and I have every - prospect of recovering at least a portion of my fortune, and if I - do, shall have £200, perhaps £300 a year more, making £800. Knowing - this, I think it wrong to make oneself miserable. Francis and - William must work: they have had their share of the fortune. I am - only waiting till something is settled with regard to my affairs, - but desertion has never for a moment entered my brain, and I hope - you never gave me credit for anything so barbarous."[174] - - - _To_ MY MOTHER (before seeing Italima). - - "_Whitburn Hall_, _Sept._ 13.--Nothing can exceed Lady Williamson's - kindness about Italima. Though she can ill afford it, she at once - sent them £110 for present necessities.... She does not think it - possible they can ever return to Rome, but having to part with - Félix and Victoire is the greatest of their immediate trials. In - addition to her invalid husband and son, Lady Williamson, the good - angel of the whole family, has since her father's death taken the - entire charge of his old sister, Mrs. Richmond--'Aunt Titchie.' - Victor and I have just been paying a visit in her bedroom to this - extraordinary old lady, who was rolled up in petticoats, with a - little dog under a shawl by way of muff. She is passionately fond - of eating, and dilated upon the goodness of the cook--'Her tripe - and onions are de-licious!'--'I like a green gosling, and plenty of - sage and stuffing, that's what _I_ like.' - - "She is a complete Mrs. Malaprop. 'I was educated, my dear,' she - said, 'at a cemetery for young ladies;' but this is only a - specimen. She is also used to _very_ strong language, and till she - became blind, she used to hunt all over the country in top-boots - and leathern breeches, like a man. When her husband died, she went - up from Mrs. Villiers' house at Grove Mill to prove his will. - Adolphus Liddell met her at the station, and helped her to do it, - and then took her to the 'Ship and Turtle' and gave her real - turtle--in fact, a most excellent luncheon. He afterwards saw her - off at Euston. She is blind, you know, and took no notice of there - being other passengers in the carriage, and greatly astonished they - must have been, as he was taking leave of her, to hear the old lady - say in her deliberate tones, 'Capital turtle! de-e-licious punch! - Why, lor bless ye! I'd prove my husband's will once a week to get - such a blow-out as that.' - - "I thought this place hideous at first, but it improves on - acquaintance, and has its availabilities, like everything else: - there is a fine sea with beautiful sands, and the flower-garden is - radiant." - - - "_Sept. 15._--I long for you to know Lady Williamson. Of all people - I have ever known, she has the most _truly_ Christian power of - seeing the virtues of every one and passing over their faults. She - also has to perfection the not-hearing, not-seeing knack, which is - the most convenient thing possible in such a mixed family circle. - - "Charlie Williamson arrived yesterday, and, with the most jovial - entertaining manner, has all his mother's delicacy of feeling and - excessive kindness of heart. When he heard of the B. catastrophe, - he went up at once from Aldershot to see Italima in London. 'Your - mother was quite crushed,' he says, 'but as for your dear sister, - there isn't a girl in England has the pluck she shows. She never - was down for a moment, not she: no, she was as cheery as possible, - and said, "Mama, it is done, and it is not our fault, so we must - learn to make the best of it." People may say what they like, but - she is real downright good, and no mistake about it.' - - "I have been with Victor to Seaton Delaval--the 'lordly Seaton - Delaval' of 'Marmion,' scene of many of the iniquities of the last - Lord Delaval. It is a magnificent house, but the centre is now a - ruin, having been burnt about eighty years ago, by the connivance, - it is said, of its then owner, Sir Jacob Astley. There is a Norman - chapel, full of black effigies of knights, which look as if they - were carved out of coal, and in one of the wings is a number of - pictures, including Lord Delaval's four beautiful daughters, one of - whom married the village baker, while another was that Lady - Tyrconnel who died at Gibside. - - "I hope I shall know all these cousins better some day. At present, - from their having quite a different set of friends and - associations, I always feel as if I had not a single thing to say - to them, and I am sure they all think I am dreadfully stupid.... - But I am enchanted with Charlie Williamson, his tremendous spirits - and amusing ways." - - - "_Sept. 17._--At 8-1/2, as we were sitting at tea, Lady Williamson - put her head in at the drawing-room door and said, 'Come down with - me; they are arriving.' So we went to the hall-door just as the - carriage drove up, and Italima got out and flung herself into Lady - Williamson's arms.... Both she and Esmeralda looked utterly - worn-out, and their account was truly awful.... Lady Normanby came - at once to their assistance--but what touched them most was the - kindness of dear good Charlie Williamson, who came up directly from - Aldershot, bringing them all he had--£50." - - - "_Sept. 18._--It has now come out that Mr. B. was the person who - had Francis arrested, and he kept him in prison while he plundered - his estate of £17,000. It has also transpired that when, on a - former occasion, Sir J. Paul gave Mr. B. £1000 to pay Francis's - debts, he never paid them, but appropriated the money. B. has - robbed Italima of the whole of her own fortune besides her marriage - settlement. Two years ago he arranged with the trustees and Italima - to sell £2000 of the settlement fund to pay William's debts, and - presented to the trustees, as they supposed, papers to sign for - this purpose. They trusted to B. and did not examine the papers, - which they now find empowered him to take possession not only of - the £2000, but of the whole fund!" - - - "_Sept. 19._--Italima's state is the most hopeless I ever saw, - because she absolutely refuses to find hope or comfort or pleasure - in anything, and as absolutely refuses to take any interest or - bestir herself in any measures for the recovery of her lost - fortune.... When any one tries to elicit what she recollects about - the mortgages, she will begin the story, and then bury herself in - the sofa-cushions, and say we are killing her by asking her - questions, and that if we do not want her to die, she must be - quiet. She is furious with me because I will not see that the case - is quite hopeless, and quite acts up to her promise of never - regarding me with the slightest affection.... The state of Italima - is appalling, but my sister is perfectly calm. Lady Williamson is - kindness itself; and as for Charlie, I never knew his equal for - goodness, consideration, and generosity. - - "I wish you could hear Lady Williamson sing; even when she was a - little girl, Catalani said that her voice was better than her own, - and that if it were necessary for her to sing publicly, she would - be the first singer in Europe." - - - "_Sept. 21._--Italima is daily more entirely woe-begone, and her - way of receiving her misfortunes more bitter.... It seems a trouble - to her even to see her cousins so prosperous, while she ...! The - Normanbys are here and most kind, though much out of patience with - her.... Old Mrs. Richmond, who has been very kind throughout, sent - for my sister the other day to her room, and gave her five pounds - to buy winter clothes, and has sent for patterns to Edinburgh for a - warm dress for her." - - - "_Sandhutton Hall, Sept. 24._--I left Whitburn yesterday, very - sorry to part with the dear kind cousins, with whom I had a tender - leave-taking--not so with Italima, who took no more notice of my - departure than she had done of my visit." - -The only event of our home-autumn was the death of the Rector of -Hurstmonceaux, who had succeeded my uncle, and the appointment of the -charming old Dr. Wellesley[175] in his place. In November I was at -Harrow with the Vaughans, meeting there for the first time two sets of -cousins, Lord and Lady Spencer,[176] and Sir John Shaw-Lefevre,[177] -with two of his daughters. With the latter cousins I made a great -friendship. Then I returned to Oxford. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Christ Church, Dec. 6, 1859._-My whole visit here this time has - been enjoyable. Arthur is always so very good and kind, so - _knowing_ in what will give one pleasure: which I especially feel - in his cordiality to all my friends when they come here. Then it is - so interesting and delightful being perpetually examined by him in - different parts of history, and charming to feel that I can in a - small way be useful to him in looking out or copying things for his - lectures, &c. Victor Williamson and Charlie Wood come in and out - constantly. - - "Mr. Richmond the artist is here. I quite long to be Arthur, going - to sit to him: he is so perfectly delightful: no wonder his - portraits are always smiling." - -In the winter of 1859-60 I made a much-appreciated acquaintance with Sir -George Grey, author of "Polynesian Mythology." - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Dec. 15, 1859._--At the Haringtons' I met Sir George and Lady - Grey. I was very anxious to make acquaintance, but much afraid that - I should not have an opportunity of doing so, as I was never - introduced. As they were going away, I expressed regret at having - missed them before, and he hoped that we should meet another time. - I suppose I looked very really sorry for not seeing more of him, - for, after a consultation in the passage, he came back, and asked - if I would walk part of the way with him. I walked with him all the - way to Windmill Hill, where he was staying: he walked home with me: - I walked home with him; and he home with me for the third time, - when I was truly sorry to take leave, so very interesting was he, - and so easy to talk to. We began about Polynesian Mythology--then - poetry--then Murray, who, he said, had just paid Dr. Livingstone - £10,000 as _his_ share of the profits on his book--then of Lord - Dillon, who, he said, had led them the most jovial rollicking life - when he went to Ditchley to look over MSS., so that he had done - nothing. - - "Then he talked of the Church in the Colonies. He said that High - Churchism had penetrated to the Cape to the greatest extent, and - that the two or three churches where it was carried out were - thronged as fashionable: that one of the views preached was, that - religion was a belief in whatever you fancied was for your good, so - that if you fancied that, our Lord being one with God, it would be - well for you to have a mediator between yourself and Him, you ought - then to believe in that mediator, and to invoke your guardian angel - as the mediator most natural. Another tenet was that prayer was - only 'a tracter' to draw down the blessings of God--that, as there - were three kinds of prayer, so there were three kinds of - tracters--that individual prayer would draw down a blessing on the - individual, family prayer on a family, but that public prayer, as - proceeding from the mouth of a priest, could draw down a blessing - on the whole state. Sir George had heard a sermon on 'It is needful - for you that I go away from you,' &c., proving that it _was_ - needful, because if not, Christ would have to have remained as an - earthly king, have had to negotiate with other kings, meddle in - affairs of state, &c.--also because he would have been made 'a - lion' of--perhaps have become an object of pilgrimage, &c. - - "Sir George said that the Wesleyan Methodists lived a holier, more - spiritual life in the Colonies, but then it was because religion - was there so easy to them; in London it would not be so; that - London, the place in the world most unsuited to Christianity, lived - on a great world of gambling-houses, brothels, &c., as if there - were no God; no one seemed to care. He said what a grand thing it - would be if, in one of the great public services in St. Paul's or - Westminster Abbey, the preacher were to shout out as his awful - text--'Where art thou, Adam?'--and show how the Lord would look in - vain for _His_ in most parts of London--where, _where_ had they - hidden themselves? - - "Sir George told me an anecdote of a dog in New Zealand--that two - officers were walking by the shore, and that one of them said, 'You - declare your dog will do everything. I'll bet you he does not fetch - that if you tell him,' and he threw his walking-stick into a canoe - lying out at some distance in the shallow water, where the natives - wade up to their waists to get into them, and where they are - secured by strong hempen cords. The dog, when told, instantly swam - out, but, as the man who made the bet had foreseen, whenever he - tried to scramble into the canoe to get the stick, it almost upset, - and at length, after repeated struggles, he was obliged to swim to - shore again and lie down to rest. Once rested, however, without a - second bidding, he swam out again, and this time gnawed through the - cord, pulled the canoe on shore, and then got the stick out, and - brought it to his master."[178] - -I told Arthur Stanley much of this conversation with Sir George Grey. -Some time after, he was very anxious that I should go to hear Dr. -Vaughan preach in a great public service under the dome of St. Paul's. I -went, and was startled by the text--"Where art thou, Adam?" - -In January 1860 I paid a delightful visit to Sir John Shaw-Lefevre at -Sutton Place, near Guildford, a beautiful old brick house with -terra-cotta ornaments, which once belonged to Sir Francis Weston, Anne -Boleyn's reputed lover. Besides the large pleasant family of the house, -Lord Eversley and his daughter were there, and Sophia, daughter of Henry -Lefevre, with Mr. Wickham, whom she soon afterwards married. - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Sutton Place, Jan. 8._--Lord Eversley has been talking of - Bramshill, the old home of Prince Henry, where Archbishop Abbott - shot a keeper by accident, in consequence of which it became a - question whether consecration rites received at his hands were - valid. Lord Eversley did not believe that the oak in the park, from - which the arrow glanced (with the same effect as in the case of - Rufus), was the real tree, because it was _too_ old: oaks beyond a - certain age, after the bark has ceased to be smooth, do not allow - an arrow to glance and rebound. - - "The Buxtons sent me a ticket for Lord Macaulay's funeral, but I - would not leave Sutton to go. Sir John went, and described that, as - often in the case of funerals and other sad ceremonies, people, by - a rebound, became remarkably merry and amusing, and that they had - occupied the time of waiting by telling a number of uncommonly good - stories. The sight of Lady Holland[179] and her daughters amongst - the mourners had reproduced the bon-mot of Mrs. Grote, who, when - asked how this Lady Holland was to be distinguished from the - original person of the name, said, 'Oh, this is New Holland, and - her capital is Sydney.' - - "Apropos of Macaulay, Sir John remarked how extraordinary it was in - growing age to see a person pass away whose birth, education, - public career, and death were all within your memory. - - "He said how unreadable 'Roderick Random' and 'Tom Jones' were now. - A lady had asked to borrow 'Pamela' from his library, saying she - well remembered the pleasure of it in her youth; but she returned - it the next day, saying she was quite ashamed of having asked for - anything so improper. - - "Yesterday was Sunday, and I groped my way through the dark - passages to the evening service in the Catholic chapel, which has - always been attached to the house. An old priest, seated on the - steps of the altar, preached a kind of catechetical sermon upon - Transubstantiation--'My flesh is meat _indeed_'--'and the poor - Protestants have this in their Bibles, and yet they throw away the - benefit of the _indeed_.' The sight was most picturesque--the dark - old-fashioned roof, only seen by the light of the candles on the - richly decorated altar, and the poor English peasants grouped upon - the benches. It carried one back to the time before the - Reformation. In his discourse, the old priest described his - childhood, when he sat in the east wing of the house learning his - catechism, and when there were only two Catholics in Guildford; and - 'what would these two solitary ones say now if they had seen the - crowd in St. Joseph's Chapel at Guildford this morning? Yes, what - would old Jem Savin say if he could rise up and see us now, poor - man?'" - - - _To_ MY MOTHER (after I had returned to my Handbook explorations). - - "_Aldermaston Hall, Berks, Jan. 14, 1860._--I came here from - Newbury. The weather was so horrible, and the prospect of a damp - lonely Sunday in an inn so uninviting, that I thought over all - possible and impossible houses in the neighbourhood, and finally - decided upon Aldermaston as the best, and have taken it by storm. - - "It was the dampest and dreariest of mornings as I came from the - station, but this place looked beautiful in spite of it--a wild - picturesque park, and a large house, full of colour inside, like a - restored French château. Mrs. Higford Burr (who seems to live more - in Italy than here) wears a sort of Greek dress with a girdle and a - broad gold hem.... I was at once, as I rather expected, invited to - stay _per l'amore d'Italia_, and my luggage sent for. This - afternoon Mrs. Burr, who is a most tremendous walker, has taken me - to Upton Court, the home of Arabella Fermor (Pope's Belinda), a - charming old house with a ghost, which the farm-people described as - 'coming a clinkerin upstairs right upon un loike.'" - - - "_Christ Church, Feb. 4._--I have had a terribly cold tour to - Drayton-Beauchamp, Ashridge, Aylesbury, &c. The pleasantest feature - was a warm welcome from Mrs. Barnard, wife of the great - yeoman-farmer at Creslow Pastures, the royal feeding-grounds from - the time of Elizabeth to Charles II., with a lovely and interesting - old house overlooking Christ Low (the Christ's Meadow) and Heaven's - Low (Heaven's Meadow). Thence I went to North Marston, where was - the shrine of Sir John Shorne, a sainted rector, who preserved his - congregation from sin by 'conjuring the devil into his boot.' - Buckinghamshire is full of these quaint stories. - - "Arthur has just been making great sensation by a splendid sermon - at St. Mary's, given in his most animated manner, his energies - gradually kindling till his whole being was on fire. It was on, - 'Why stand ye here idle all the day long?--the first shall be last - and the last first.' 'Why stand ye here idle, listless, in the - quadrangle, in your own rooms, doing nothing; so that in the years - to come you will never be able to look back and say, "In such a - year, in such a term, I learnt this or that--that idea, that book, - that thought _then_ first struck me"? Perhaps this may be a voice - to the winds, perhaps those to whom it would most apply are even - now in their places of resort, standing idle: probably even those - who are here would answer to my question, "Because no man hath - hired us."' - - "Then he described the powers, objects, and advantages of Oxford. - Then the persons who had passed away within the year, leaving gaps - to be filled up--the seven great masters of the English - language,[180] the German poets and philosophers,[181] the French - philosopher[182]--'and their praise shall go forth from generation - to generation.' Then he dwelt on the different duties of the coming - life to be prepared for, and he described the model - country-clergyman (Pearson), the model teacher (Jowett), the model - country-gentleman. Then came a beautiful and pictorial passage - about the eleventh hour and the foreboding of the awful twelfth. - The congregation was immense, and listened with breathless - interest. When the signatures were being collected for the Jowett - appeal, Arthur was hard at work upon them on Sunday when Mr. Jowett - came in. Arthur said, 'You need not mind my being at work to-day, - for I can assure you it is quite a Sunday occupation, a work of - justice, if not of mercy.'--'Yes,' said Jowett, 'I see how it is: - an ass has fallen into a pit, and you think it right to pull him - out on the Sabbath-day.'" - -Arthur Stanley used to see a great deal of Mr. Jowett during this -year--far too much, my mother thought when she was staying with him at -Oxford; for Jowett--kind and unselfish as a saint--was only "Christian" -in so far that he believed the central light of Christianity to spring -from the life of Christ. He occasionally preached, but his sermons were -only illustrative of practical duties, or the lessons to be learnt from -holy and unselfish lives. It was during this year, too, that the English -Church recognised with surprise that it was being shaken to its -foundations by the volume of--mostly feeble and dull--"Essays and -Reviews." But to turn to a very different religious phase. - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Wantage, Feb. 21, 1860._--I came here yesterday over dreary - snow-sprinkled downs. Wantage is a curious little town surrounding - a great cruciform church in the midst of a desert. The Vicar (Rev. - W. J. Butler[183]) welcomed me at the door of the gothic vicarage, - and almost immediately a clerical procession, consisting of three - curates, schoolmaster, organist, and scripture-reader, filed in (as - they do every day) to dinner, and were introduced one by one. The - tall agreeable Vicar did the honours just as a schoolmaster would - to his boys. There was such a look of daily service, chanting, and - _discipline_ over the whole party, that I quite felt as if Mrs. - Butler ought also to be a clergyman, and as if the two little girls - would have been more appropriately attired in black coats and - bands. - - "After dinner, in raging snow and biting east wind, we sallied out - to survey the numerous religious institutions, which have been - almost entirely founded by the energy and perseverance of this - Vicar in the thirteen years he has been at Wantage. The church is - magnificent. There is an old grammar-school in honour of Alfred - (who was born here), a National School painted with Scripture - frescoes by Pollen, Burgon, &c., a training school under the charge - of Mrs. Trevelyan, a cemetery with a beautiful chapel, and St. - Mary's Home for penitents. At seven o'clock all the curates - dispersed to various evening services, Mr. Butler went to St. - Mary's Home, and Mrs. Butler and I to the church, where we sat in - the dark, and heard a choir chant a service out of what looked like - a gorgeous illumination. - - "I was aghast to hear breakfast was at half-past seven, but as I - could not sleep from the piercing cold, it did not signify. At - seven a bell rang, and we all hurried to a little domestic chapel - in the house, hung with red and carpeted with red, but containing - nothing else except a cross with flowers at one end of the room, - before which knelt Mr. Butler. We all flung ourselves down upon the - red carpet, and Mr. Butler, with his face to the wall, intoned to - us, and Mrs. Butler and the servants intoned to him, and all the - little children intoned too, with their faces to the ground. - - "Now there is to be full church service again, and then--oh! how - glad I shall be to get away."[184] - -The society of Mrs. Gaskell the authoress was a great pleasure during -this term at Oxford. I made great friends with her, and we kept up a -correspondence for some time afterwards. Everybody liked Mrs -Gaskell.[185] I remember that one of the points which struck me most -about her at first was not only her kindness, but her extreme courtesy -and deference to her own daughters. While she was at Oxford, the subject -of ghosts was brought forward for a debate at the Union; she wished to -have spoken from the gallery, and if she had, would probably have -carried the motion in favour of ghosts at once. Here is one of her -personal experiences:-- - - "Mrs. Gaskell was staying with some cousins at Stratford-on-Avon, - who took her over to see Compton Whinyates. On their return she - stayed to tea at Eddington with her cousins--cousins who were - Quakers. Compton Whinyates naturally led to the subject of spirits, - and Mrs. Gaskell asked the son of the house whether there were any - stories of the kind about their neighbourhood; upon which the - father, who was a very stiff, stern old man, reproved them for vain - and light talking. - - "After tea Mrs. Gaskell and her cousins went out to walk about the - place with the younger Quaker, when the subject of the supernatural - was renewed, and he said that their attention had lately been - called to it in a very singular manner. That a woman who was a - native of the place had many years ago gone as a lady's-maid to - London, leaving her lover, who was a carter, behind her. While in - London, she forgot her carter and married some one else, but after - some years her husband died, leaving her a large competence, and - she came back to spend the rest of her life in her native village. - There she renewed her acquaintance with the carter, to whom, after - a fortnight's renewal of courtship, she was married. After they had - been married a few weeks, she said she must go up to London to sell - all the property she had there, and come down to settle finally in - the country. She wished her husband to go with her, and urgently - entreated him to do so; but he, like many countrymen in that part, - had a horror of London, fancied it was the seat of all wickedness, - and that those who went there never could come back safe: so the - woman went alone, but she did not return. Some time after her - husband heard that she had been found in the streets of - London--dead. - - "A few weeks after this the carter husband was observed to have - become unaccountably pale, ill, and anxious, and on being asked - what was the matter with him, he complained bitterly, and said that - it was because his wife would not let him rest at nights. He did - not seem to be frightened, but lamented that his case was a very - hard one, for that he had to work all day, and, when he wanted - rest, his wife came and sat by his bedside, moaning and lamenting - and wringing her hands all the night long, so that he could not - sleep. - - "Mrs. Gaskell naturally expressed a wish to see the man and to hear - the story from his own lips. The Quaker said that nothing could be - easier, as he lived in a cottage close by; to which she went, - together with five other persons. It was like a Cheshire cottage, - with a window on each side of the door, and a little enclosure, - half-court, half-garden, in front. It was six o'clock in broad - summer daylight when they arrived. The door was locked and the - Quaker went round to try the back entrance, leaving Mrs. Gaskell - and her friends in the enclosure in front. They all, while there, - distinctly saw a woman, of hard features, dressed in a common lilac - print gown, come up to the latticed window close by them on the - inside and look out. They then saw her pass on and appear again at - the window on the other side of the door, after which she went away - altogether. - - "When the Quaker appeared, unsuccessful in opening the back-door, - they said, 'But there is some one who could have let you in, for - there is a woman in the house.' They tried unsuccessfully, however, - to make her hear. Then they went to the adjoining cottage, where - the people assured them that the man was gone out for the day, and - that there could not possibly be any one in the house. 'Oh,' said - Mrs. Gaskell, 'but we have _seen_ a woman in the house in a lilac - print gown.' 'Then,' they answered, 'you have seen the ghost: there - is no _woman_ in the house; but that is _she_.'" - -[Illustration: OLD BEECHES, HURSTMONCEAUX PARK.] - -It was when I was at Beckett, just before Easter 1860, that I was first -told that we should have to leave our dear home at Hurstmonceaux. Many -years before, there had been an alarm, and my mother would then have -bought the Lime property, but that the price asked was so greatly above -its value, and no other purchasers came forward. So she was satisfied to -go on renting Lime and the surrounding fields for a small sum, -especially as she had a promise from those who had charge of the sale -that no other offer should be accepted without giving her the -preference. In the spring of 1860, however, Mr. Arkcoll, a rich old -Hurstmonceaux farmer and churchwarden, died, leaving a large fortune to -his nephew and a considerable sum of ready money to buy a house near his -property. Lime had long been as Naboth's vineyard in the younger Mr. -Arkcoll's eyes, and before we knew that the uncle was dead, we heard -that the nephew was the purchaser of Lime, the promise to us having been -broken. - -My mother immediately offered Mr. Arkcoll a much larger sum than he had -paid to save Lime, but not unnaturally he was inexorable. - -Thus it was inevitable that at Michaelmas we must leave our dear home, -and, though I had suffered much at Hurstmonceaux, and though our -position there as a ruined family was often a dismal one, yet we felt -that nothing could ever replace what Lime itself was, where every plant -was familiar, and every tree had its own little personal reminiscence. -And there was also the great difficulty of finding a new home within -our small means, and yet large enough to house our many books and -pictures. - -I met my mother at Bournemouth to talk over plans and possibilities for -the future, and we went on to Weymouth, where we remained some weeks. It -was bitterly cold weather, but I always liked Weymouth, and the pleasant -walks in Sandyfoot Bay, and excursions to Bow and Arrow Castle, Corfe -Castle, Abbotsbury, and Lyme Regis. In April I was again at Beckett. - - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Beckett, April 8, 1860._--Yesterday I went with Lady Barrington - and Lady Somerton to Ashdowne (Lord Craven's). It is a most awfully - desolate place, standing high up on the bare downs. Four avenues - approach the house from the four sides. It was built by a Craven - who was Lord Mayor of London, and who, flying from the great - plague, rode fiercely on and on, till upon this bleak down he saw a - desolate farmhouse, where he thought that the plague could not - penetrate, and there he rested, and there he eventually built. The - four avenues, and the windows on every side, were intended to let - the plague out in one direction if it came in at the other. Inside - the house are great stag's horns which Elizabeth of Bohemia brought - with her from Germany, and portraits of her, Prince Rupert, Prince - Maurice, and the four princesses her daughters, painted by one of - them. The young Ladies Craven showed us the house amid shouts of - laughter at their own ignorance about it, which certainly was most - dense. - - "We went on by roads, which were never meant for a carriage, to a - point whence Lady Barrington and I walked across the down to - 'Wayland Smith's Cave,' a very small cromlech, in which Wayland - could hardly have stood upright when he used it for a forge." - - - "_Hendred House, April 15._--It is a proof how necessary it is for - the writer of a Handbook to see himself all that he writes about, - that I found East Hendred, of which I had heard nothing, to be one - of the most romantic villages I ever saw--groups of ancient - gable-ended houses, black and white or black and red, with turreted - chimneys--a ruined moss-grown chapel dedicated to 'Jesus of - Bethlehem'--a fine old grey church in a glen--and a beautiful - Catholic chapel attached to this quaint old house, which contains a - great Holbein of Sir Thomas More and his family, his cup, a - portrait of Cardinal Pole, and the staff upon which Bishop Fisher - leant upon the scaffold!" - -My next visit was to Dr. Hawtrey, the Provost of Eton, to whom I became -much attached. Being in the house with him was a constant intellectual -feast, he was so accomplished as well as learned. Beautiful and -interesting books were produced to illustrate all he said, and it would -be hard to say how much Latin or Italian poetry he daily read or -repeated to me. It was impossible not to be perfectly at home with him, -he was so easy and natural. Of the two old sisters who had resided with -him, and who were known by Eton boys as Elephantina and Rhinocerina, -only one was still living, in a gentle and touching state of -childishness, keeping up all her old-fashioned habits of courtesy and -politeness; the mind now and then taking in an idea like a flash of -light, and immediately losing it again. The Provost's attention to this -old sister was quite beautiful, and her affection for him. When she was -going to bed she would "pack up" and carry off all the things upon the -table--books, envelope-boxes, &c., which were soon sent downstairs -again. - -I went with the Provost to dine at New Lodge (Mr. Van de Weyer, the -Belgian Minister's), and found there the Dean of St. Paul's and Mrs. -Milman, he most bright and animated, she "icily bland and coldly amiable -as ever." I was quite delighted with the Van de Weyers, especially the -second son Albert (who afterwards died young). M. Sylvain Van de Weyer, -through life the trusted friend and representative of Leopold I. of -Belgium, had the expensive hobby of books, collecting rare editions and -the earliest printed classics, a taste inherited from his father, who -kept a circulating library at Louvain. When he showed us two shelves of -books in his library he said, "I have read all these whilst waiting for -dinner. I am always down punctually, and my guests are always late. From -my library I see them arrive, and never join them till a good many are -come: thus I have got through all these." Madame Van de Weyer was -immensely fat. She had lately been with her husband to a concert at -Windsor, and been much jostled, at which she was very indignant. "Why, -they take us for pages," she said to her husband. "No, my dear," he -replied; "they take me for a page, but they take you for a volume." - -On the last occasion on which I saw the Provost Hawtrey before his -death, he said to me that he knew I collected curious stories, and that -there was one story, intimately connected with his own life, which he -wished that I should write down from his lips, and read to him when I -had written it, that he might see that it was perfectly correct. - -Here is the story as he gave it:-- - - "In the time of my youth one of the cleverest and most agreeable - women in Europe was Madame de Salis--the Countess de Salis--who had - been in her youth a Miss Foster, daughter of the Irish Bishop of - Kilmore. As a girl she had been most beautiful and the darling of - her parents' hearts, but she married against their will with the - Count de Salis. He was a Swiss Count, but he took her, not to - Switzerland, but to Florence, where he hired a villa at - Bellosguardo. There the life of Madame de Salis was a most - miserable one: she had many children, but her husband, who cut her - off from all communication with her friends, was exceedingly unkind - to her. She was married to him for several years, and then she was - mercifully released by his death. It was impossible for her to - pretend to be sorry, and she did not pretend it: she hailed it as - the greatest mercy that could have befallen her.[186] - - "Madame de Salis went back to Ireland, where her parents, the old - Bishop of Kilmore and Mrs. Foster, were still alive, and welcomed - her with rapture. But she had left them a radiant, beautiful, - animated girl; she returned to them a haggard, weird, worn woman, - with that fixed look of anguish which only the most chronic - suffering can leave. And what was worst was that her health had - completely given way: she never slept, she never seemed able to - rest, she had no repose day or night: she became seriously ill. - - "All the best advice that could be procured was hers. There was a - great consultation of doctors upon her case, and after it had taken - place, the doctors came to the Bishop and said, 'The case of Madame - de Salis is an extraordinary one; it is a most peculiar, but still - a known form of hypochondria. She cannot rest because she always - sees before her--not the horrible phantom which made her married - life so miserable, but the room which was the scene of her - suffering. And she never will rest; the image is, as it were, - branded into her brain, and cannot be eradicated. There is only one - remedy, and it is a very desperate one. It will probably kill her, - she will probably sink under it, but it may have happy results. - However, it is the only chance of saving her. It is that she should - see the real room again. She can never get rid of its image: it is - engraven upon her brain for life. The only chance is for her to - connect it with something else.' When Madame de Salis was told - this, she said that her returning to Florence was impossible, - absolutely impossible. 'At any rate,' she said, 'I could not go - unless my younger sister, Miss Foster, might go with me; then - possibly I might think of it.' But to this Dr. and Mrs. Foster - would not consent. The happiness of their lives seemed to have been - extinguished when their elder daughter married Count de Salis, and - if their beautiful younger daughter went abroad, perhaps she also - would marry a foreigner, and then what good would their lives do - them? However, Madame de Salis grew daily worse; her life was - evidently at stake, and at last her parents said, 'Well, if you - will make us a solemn promise that you will never, under any - circumstances whatever, consent to your sister's marrying a - foreigner, she shall go with you;' and she went. - - "Madame de Salis and Miss Foster went to Florence. They rented the - villa at Bellosguardo which had been the scene of the terrible - tragedy of Madame de Salis's married life. As they entered the - fatal room, Madame de Salis fell down insensible upon the - threshold. When she came to herself, she passed from one terrible - convulsion into another: she had a brain fever: she struggled for - weeks between life and death. But nature is strong, and when she - did rally, the opinion of the Irish doctors was justified. Instead - of the terrible companion of her former life and the constant dread - in which she lived, she had the companionship of her beautiful, - gentle, affectionate sister, who watched over her with unspeakable - tenderness, who anticipated her every wish.... The room was - associated with something else! Gradually, very gradually, Madame - de Salis dawned back into active life. She began to feel her former - interest in art; in time she was able to go and paint in the - galleries, and in time, when her recovery became known, many of - those who had never dared to show their sympathy with her during - her earlier sojourn at Florence, but who had pitied her intensely, - hastened to visit her; and gradually, as with returning health her - brilliant conversational powers came back, and her extraordinary - gift of repartee was restored, her salon became the most - _recherché_ and the most attractive in Florence. - - "Chief of all its attractions was the lovely Miss Foster. When, - however, Madame de Salis saw that any one especially was paying her - sister attentions, she took an opportunity of alienating them, or, - if there seemed to be anything really serious, she expressed to the - individual her regret that she was unable to receive him any more. - But at last there was an occasion on which Madame de Salis felt - that more stringent action was called for. When a young Count - Mastai, in the Guardia Nobile, not only felt, but showed the most - unbounded devotion to Miss Foster, Madame de Salis did more than - express to him her regret that untoward family circumstances - prevented her having the pleasure of seeing him again; she let her - villa at Bellosguardo, she packed up her things, and she took her - sister with her to Rome. - - "The reputation of the two sisters had preceded them, and when it - became known that the Madame de Salis who had had so romantic a - history was come to Rome with her beautiful younger sister, all - that was most intellectual and all that was most remarkable in the - old Papal capital gathered around them. But now the scene had - changed. It was no longer Madame de Salis who was the invalid. Miss - Foster grew pale and languid and unable to occupy herself, and - gradually she became so pale and so changed, and the cause of it - was so evident, that Madame de Salis felt that she must choose - between two alternatives: she must either break her word to her - parents and save the life of her sister, or she must keep her - promise to her parents and see her sister sink into the grave. - - "And she decided on the former course. She wrote two letters--one - letter to Count Mastai, telling him that he might come back and see - her sister again, and the other letter to the Bishop of Kilmore and - Mrs. Foster. She said to her parents that she knew they measured a - foreign marriage by her own dreadful life with Count de Salis: that - in Count Mastai they must imagine the exact opposite of Count de - Salis: that he was honourable, noble, chivalrous, generous, - disinterested--in fact, that had she to seek through the whole - world the person to whom with the greatest confidence she could - commit her sister's happiness, she could not do otherwise than - choose Count Mastai. This letter she sent too late to have the - refusal which she knew it would bring. Count Mastai flew to the - feet of the beautiful Miss Foster, and was accepted at once. The - wedding-day was fixed, the wedding-dress was made, the - wedding-feast was prepared.[187] - - "When the day came, all the friends of Madame de Salis collected in - the Church of San Luigi dei Francesi, where the marriage was to - take place. According to the custom of brides in Rome, Miss Foster, - accompanied by Madame de Salis, came first to the altar and waited - for the bridegroom. He never came--he never came at all--he never, - never, never was heard of again. And that is the end of the first - part of the story. - - * * * * * - - "The second part of the story is quite different. It was the time - of the great famine and pestilence in the Basilicata. The misery - was most intense, hundreds perished daily everywhere. Every one who - could get away did; those who could went to Switzerland, others - went to Sicily; bishops abandoned their dioceses, priests abandoned - their flocks: there was a general stampede. - - "But in that terrible time, as in all seasons of great national - suffering, there were instances of extraordinary devotion and - heroism. There was one young bishop of a Neapolitan diocese, who - was absent in Switzerland at the time, who came back like San Carlo - Borromeo over the Alps, who sold his library for the poor, who sold - his carriages, who sold at last even his episcopal ring, who walked - day and night in the hospitals, and by whose personal devotion many - lives were saved, while thousands were cheered and encouraged by - his example. The consequence was, that when the famine and the - pestilence in the Basilicata passed away, at an early age--at a - much earlier age than is usual--that young bishop was made a - cardinal. - - * * * * * - - "The third part of the story is again quite different. It was when - Pope Gregory XVI. lay upon his deathbed. There was the greatest - possible difficulty about who should be his successor; one member - of the Sacred College was too old, another was too young, another - was too much bound up with the princely families: there seemed to - be no one. The person who was of most influence at that time was - Count Rossi, the French Ambassador, and he was very anxious for a - liberal Pope, for some one who would carry out his own liberal - views. One day as he was walking pensively, filled with anxieties, - down the Corso, there passed by in a carriage that young bishop of - the Basilicata, once Bishop of Imola, now Archbishop of Spoleto, - who had been so distinguished during the famine. And when Count - Rossi saw him, he felt _that_ is the man--_that_ is the man who - would further my ideas and carry out my views. And by the wonderful - influence of Count Rossi on separate individuals, and by his - extraordinary powers of combination in bringing the mind of one - person to bear upon another, that person was chosen Pope. And on - the day on which he mounted the Papal throne as Pius IX., he - revealed that he was the person who, as Count Mastai Ferretti in - the Guardia Nobile, had been engaged to be married to the beautiful - Miss Foster. He had belonged to a Jesuit family: he had been - summoned on a Jesuit mission from which no one can shrink: his - value to the Church had been estimated: he was sent off to the West - Indies: letters were intercepted, and he was induced to believe - that Miss Foster had ceased to care about him: he was persuaded to - take Orders; he became bishop in the Basilicata, Bishop of Imola, - Archbishop of Spoleto, Pope of Rome--and Miss Foster lived to know - it. - - * * * * * - - "'Now,' said Dr. Hawtrey, 'if you ever tell that story, recollect - to say that it is no mere story I have heard; it is part of my own - life. Madame de Salis and her sister were my relations, and I was - most intimate with them. I was there when Madame de Salis made her - miserable marriage; I was there when she came back so terribly - changed. I shared in the consultations as to whether her sister - should go with her: I was with Dr. and Mrs. Foster when they - received the letter about Count Mastai: I was there when they heard - of the disappearance of the mysterious bridegroom: and I have lived - to think of him as Pope.'" - -I am surprised to find no letters recording the long and happy visit -which I made during the latter part of April 1860 to Chequers, the -beautiful old house of Lady Frankland Russell, to whom I had been -introduced by Lady Sheffield, who was her cousin. With this most -interesting old lady I made great friends and received the greatest -kindness from her. Owing to the marriage of Sir John Russell of Chequers -with Mrs. Rich, youngest daughter of Cromwell, the house was perfectly -full of Cromwell relics, and in its grand old gallery hung portraits of -the Protector, his mother, brother, his four daughters, two sons-in-law, -secretary, &c. Here, also, enclosed in a cabinet, was a very awful mask -taken from Cromwell's face after death, which Lady Frankland used to -uncover with great solemnity. In the garden was a wonderful wych elm, -said to have been planted by King Stephen, and behind rose the Chiltern -Hills, the most beautiful point of which--Velvet Lawn, covered with -indigenous box--was in the immediate neighbourhood. - -All through the summer of 1860 we were occupied in considering our new -home. We sent for all the London agents' lists of places to be let or -sold south of the Humber, and many of these, in Kent, Surrey, Berks, -Bucks, Oxfordshire, Hampshire, Hertfordshire, I went to see, either with -or without my mother. If she were not with me, I wrote to her long -accounts, always concluding with saying, "They are not like Holmhurst, -not in the least like Holmhurst,"--Holmhurst being the ideal place in -the unwritten novels which my mother and I had been accustomed to -narrate to each other in our long journeys abroad. My being difficult to -satisfy gave the aunts an unusual handle for abuse, and plentifully did -they bestow it upon me. "What can it signify whether you have a view or -not? No one but you would care to waste your time in always looking out -of the window," &c., &c. Especially was indignation roused by my -refusing to consider an old house which the Stanleys were determined -upon our taking in Oxfordshire,[188] and which was to be had very cheap -because no servants could be persuaded to stay there on account of a -frightful apparition which was supposed to haunt it. At last we almost -despaired of finding any place to suit us, and determined to take the -farm of Belhurst at Hurstmonceaux to put our furniture in, and to go -abroad till quite a different set of places were to be disposed of. Just -then a neighbour sent us a Hastings paper with a very humble -advertisement marked, "At Ore, a house, with thirty-six acres of land, -to be let or sold." "What a horrible place this must be," I said, "for -which they cannot find one word of description;" for the very ugliest -places we had seen had often been described in the advertisements as -"picturesque manorial residences," "beautiful villas with hanging -woods," &c. But my mother rightly thought that the very simple -description was perhaps in itself a reason why we should see it, and -after breakfast we set off in the little carriage. It was a drive of -about fourteen miles. Long before we could arrive at Ore, we passed -under a grey wall overhung by trees. "It looks almost as if there might -be a Holmhurst inside that wall," I said. Then we reached a gate between -two clipped yew-trees, and a board announced, "This house is to be let -or sold." We drove in. It was a lovely day. An arched gateway was open -towards the garden, showing a terrace, vases of scarlet geraniums, and a -background of blue sea. My mother and I clasped each other's hands and -simultaneously exclaimed--"This is Holmhurst!" - -The house was let then, and we were refused permission to see the -inside, but my mother bought the property at once: she was as sure as I -was that we should never like any other place as well. - -We found that the name of the place was Little Ridge. There were six -places called Ridge in the neighbourhood, and it was very desirable to -change the name, to prevent confusion at the post-office and elsewhere. -Could we call it anything but Holmhurst? Afterwards we discovered that -Holmhurst meant an ilex wood, and our great tree is an ilex. - -On September 24 my mother left Lime. The day before was Sunday, and very -sad--so many tearful farewells, so many poor women crying in the -churchyard as we passed through. I stayed at Lime to pack up and arrange -everything. On October 6, in the gloaming of the autumn evening, while -the sunlight was streaming through the diminishing leaves of the old -abele trees, and throwing long shadows upon the green lawn and bright -flower-beds, we took a last farewell of our dear Hurstmonceaux home. -Lea delivered up the keys, and we walked away (to the Rectory) up the -drive, our drive no longer. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Holmhurst, Oct. 8, 1860._--This morning we left Hurstmonceaux - Rectory directly after breakfast, good old Dr. Wellesley quite - affected, and Harriet Duly, and even begging Mrs. Havendon, crying - bitterly on taking leave of Lea. We met a smart carriage with two - white horses going to fetch the Arkcolls, who made a triumphal - entry to Lime just after our departure. Winchester drove us, in - order to bring back the horse--John and Romo (the dog) on the box: - Lea and I with Julietta (the cat) and her kitten inside, and no end - of provisions under the seats. We stopped first at Mrs. Taylor's - farm, and she gave Lea a new loaf and some cheese to begin - housekeeping with, and me some excellent cakes. Lea thought the - drive charming. I walked up all the hills and we arrived about one - o'clock. It was impossible to enter the gates on account of the - waggons of the outgoing tenants, but Joe and Margaret Cornford from - the lodge hailed us with the joyful news that they had themselves - departed a few hours before." - - - "_Oct. 9._--We began work at six, a lovely morning, and the view - exquisite as I opened my window, the oak-trees with which the - meadows are studded casting long shadows on the grass, the little - pond glittering in the sun, and the grey castle rising against the - softest blue sea beyond. John is awed by the magnitude of the - grounds.... Julietta cries to go home, and would certainly set off, - if it were not for little black pussy. I think the winding walks - and obscure paths are enchanting, and the fir-woods are really - large enough for you to 'inhale the turpentine air' as at - Bournemouth." - -[Illustration: THE ABELES, LIME.] - -My mother came to Holmhurst in about ten days, but not to stay, as we -had arranged to break the transition between our two homes by spending -the winter at Mentone. We took the route to the south by Orleans (whence -I made a most interesting excursion to Notre Dame de Clery), Bourges, -and then lingered at Oranges, Avignon, &c. I have always looked back -upon the earlier part of this journey with remorse, as one in which I -took my mother a longer way, in cold weather, simply to gratify my own -wishes. - -The dear mother, however, was very well, and this winter was therefore -perhaps the happiest of the many we have spent abroad. Mentone consisted -then only of the old town on a promontory above the sea, ending in a -little island-tower, and clambering up the sides of the hill to the -castle and cemetery. On either side were a very few villas scattered -amid the olive and orange groves. In one of these,[189] above the -terrace which led from the eastern gate of the town to the little chapel -of St. Anne, we rented the first floor. On the ground floor lived our -worthy landlord, M. Trenca, and his Swiss wife, with whom we made much -acquaintance. In the neighbouring villas also we had many friends, and -often gave little parties,--for the tiny society was most simple and -easily pleased. We all enjoyed Mentone, where we had no winter, and -breakfasted with windows wide open at Christmas. Our old servants, Lea -and John, amused themselves by collecting roots of anemones and other -plants; I drew, and sought materials for my little book "A Winter at -Mentone;" and my mother was always gay and happy, betaking herself every -morning with her camp-stool to draw in some sheltered nook, and -returning proud of having discovered some new pathlet, or some fresh -bank of rare flowers in the olive groves; and in the afternoons often -going to sit with and read or sing to some of the invalid visitors. - -[Illustration: MENTONE.[190]] - - JOURNAL. - - "_Dec. 1860._--Our apartment has a bright salon looking towards the - garden, with glass doors opening on a balcony. All the rooms except - one overlook a vast expanse of blue sea, above groves of - magnificent olivetrees, and from the garden a fresh scent of - flowers is wafted up, even in December. From this garden the peaks - of the Berceau are seen rising above the thickets of oranges and - lemons, and beyond is a chain of rosecoloured rocks descending in - an abrupt precipice to the blue waters of the bay, while on the - farthest promontory Bordighera gleams white in the sunshine. Twice - a day a lovely fairy vision salutes us; first, when, in the - sunrise, Corsica reveals itself across the sapphire water, - appearing so distinctly that you can count every ravine and - indentation of its jagged mountains, and feel as if a boat would - easily take you to it in an hour; and again in the evening, when, - as a white ghost, scarcely distinguishable from the clouds around - it, and looking inconceivably distant, it looms forth dimly in the - pink haze of sunset. - - "We were here a very little while before several donkey-women - presented themselves to secure our custom. We engaged ourselves to - a wild Meg Merrilies figure in a broad white hat, with a red - handkerchief tied underneath, and a bunch of flowers stuck jauntily - in the side of her hair, who rejoices in the name of Teresina - Ravellina Muratori de Buffa! With her we have made many excursions. - It is impossible for anything to be more beautiful than the variety - of green in the valleys: the blue-green of the gigantic euphorbias, - which fringe the rocks by the wayside, the grey-green of the - olives, the dark green of the old gnarled carouba trees, and the - yellow-green of the canes and the autumnal vineyards. The walls are - beautiful with their fringe of mesembryanthemum--'Miss Emily - Anthem' as the servants call it. Most of the paths are a constant - 'excelsior,' and beginning with the steep yellow tufa rocks behind - the town, gradually enter the pine-woods, and ascend towards the - blue peaks of Sant' Agnese, which are always visible through the - red stems of the pine-trees, and across the rich foreground of - heath and myrtle. The trees are full of linnets, which the natives - call 'trenta-cinque' from the sound of their note, and the air - resounds with the cries of the donkey-drivers--'Ulla'--go on, and - 'Isa'--for shame." - - "_Jan. 11, 1861._--We have been climbing up to Grimaldi, whose - broad sunny terrace is as Italian a scene as any on the Riviera, - for it is crossed by a dark archway, and lined on one side with - bright houses, upon whose walls yellow gourds hang in the sun, with - a little church, painted pink and yellow, while the other side is - overshadowed by old olive-trees, beneath which is seen the broad - expanse of sea, here deep blue, there gleaming silver white in the - hot sunshine. Children in bright handkerchiefs and aprons were - playing about, and singing 'Tanta di gioja, tanto di contento,' - while we were drawing. - - "Beyond Grimaldi the path becomes intensely steep, but we were - repaid for going on when we reached to the top of the hills, as the - scenery there is almost Alpine in its bold rocky foregrounds, - beneath which yawns the deep black chasm of St. Louis, with a huge - cliff towering above. On the scorched rock is Ciotti Superiore, a - quaint cluster of houses, while the church, quite separated from - the village, stands farther off, on the highest ridge of the - mountain. Behind the church, the sea view is magnificent, embracing - the coast, with its numerous bays, as far as the Estrelles, which - turn golden and pink in the sunset; the grand mountain barriers, - with all the orange-clad valleys running up into them; and S. - Agnese rising out of the blue mist on its perpendicular cliff.... - And, even in this high situation, lovely narcissus and pink - carnations were blooming in January. - - "People here are unconventional. When it began to rain on Tuesday, - as we were going to a picnic, the coachman said 'Ah! le bon Dieu a - oublié que c'est un jour de fêtes.'" - -[Illustration: GRIMALDI.][191] - -It was a great delight during our winter at Mentone that Lady Mary Wood -and her family were spending the winter at Nice with old Lady Grey, so -that my friend Charlie and I often met, and became greater friends than -ever, entirely sympathising in all we did and saw. I went to Nice to -spend some days with the Woods, and they came to Mentone for Easter, -when we saw the Mentonais assemble to "grind Judas's bones," and many -other of their strange ceremonies. - - - "_Good Friday, 1861._--When Charlie and I went to S. Michele at - eight o'clock in the evening, we found the church crowded from end - to end with people chanting the Miserere, and radiant with a - thousand waxlights. In the choir, under a canopy, upon a raised - bier surrounded by a treble row of tall tapers, lay the body of - Christ, for which the whole service was a funeral celebration. Soon - after we arrived, a sudden hush in the crowd showed that something - important was going to happen, and a huge friar's lanthorn carried - in by a boy preceded the celebrated 'Pilgrim Preacher of the - Riviera,' a Capuchin monk with a long white beard, who exercises - his wonderful gift of preaching all along the Riviera during Lent. - His sermon was short, but very graphic and striking. He began by - describing a dreadful murder which people had committed upon the - person of their kindest friend, with the horror it excited; and - then, pointing to the white corpse which lay before him amid the - blazing candles, he declared that those around him were themselves - the perpetrators of the crime, and that the object of it was no - other than their Saviour, whose image they saw there pale and - bleeding before their eyes. Then, snatching the crucifix from the - support by his side, he held it aloft to urge repentance by the - sufferings there portrayed. As he concluded, soldiers filed into - the church, and, amid rolling of drums and blowing of trumpets - which intermingled with the chanting, the body was taken up and - carried three times round the church by the Black Penitents, - Mentonais nobles supporting a canopy over the bier." - -With Charlie Wood, also, I went to Dolceacqua, which will always come -back to me as one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen, with -its forest-clad mountains, its tall bridge, its blue river Nervia, and -the palatial castle of the Dorias on a cliff, with sunlight streaming -through its long lines of glassless windows. Almost equally picturesque -were Peglia and Peglione, the latter on the top of a conical rock, with -tremendous precipices and extraordinary mountain forms all around. - -[Illustration: DOLCEACQUA.][192] - -In the spring we went for a few days to S. Remo, accompanied by several -friends. With them, when my mother returned to Mentone, I travelled -farther along the Riviera, an excursion which was most amusing, as we -bargained for a little carriage from place to place, giving ridiculously -small sums, and living entirely like Italians. We went on to -many-towered Albenga, to Savona, and eventually to Genoa, making all -the excursions belonging to each place. From Genoa we joined Mr. and -Mrs. Strettel in an excursion to Porto Fino. When we returned, it was -too late to reach Mentone before Sunday, and my companions refused to -travel on that day, so we employed the interval in going to Piacenza, -Parma, and Modena! Thence we were obliged to telegraph to Mr. Strettel -(then chaplain at Genoa) to send us some money to get home with, which -we did in a series of little carriages as we had come, but travelling -all day and night, driving in the moonlight along the Riviera roads, or -often walking for miles at night upon the sands by the sea. - -[Illustration: PEGLIONE.][193] - -[Illustration: VENTIMIGLIA.[194]] - -Mr. Petit, the famous ecclesiologist,[195] spent some time at Mentone -afterwards, and was very kind in taking me sketching excursions, as a -fourth in the carriage with his sister, Miss Emma Petit, and his niece, -Miss Salt. Mr. Petit was extraordinarily clever, especially as an -artist, but most eccentric. He covered the backs of his pictures with -caricatures of goblins, &c., representing the events of each day on -which the pictures were done. When they travelled, this extraordinary -family used to keep what they called "the Petit count:" if they met a -cat, it counted for so much--a black goat for so much more, and so on: -but if they met a royal prince, it annihilated the whole of the Petit -count, and the party would consequently go a whole day's journey out of -their way to evade a royal prince. Mr. Petit was most striking in -appearance, with a great deal of colour and snow-white hair and beard. I -remember the start which our donkey-boy François gave when he first saw -him, and his exclaiming, "Je crois, Monsieur, que c'est le frère du Père -Eternel!" One day I had gone with Mr. Petit and Miss Salt to -Ventimiglia, and we were returning at a most alarming speed (with their -horses, from Toulon, unaccustomed to the road) along the edge of an -almost unguarded and perpendicular precipice. Suddenly the horses made a -great dash, and I _felt_, rather than saw, that they were leaving the -road. I threw myself out instantly over the side of the carriage. As I -picked myself up, I had the horror of seeing the horses _over_, hanging -in the branches of an olive-tree which overhung the sea at a tremendous -height, and on the tiny plateau on which it grew. The carriage was -swaying to and fro on the wall, which it had broken down, and which was -rapidly giving way altogether. "Uncle, shall I get out?" said Miss Salt, -as coolly as if nothing was going on. "Yes," he said--and they both got -out. A crowd of men came and rescued the horses with ropes from their -perilous position, and we walked home. - -As usual, in our return to England, we lingered much by the way. The -railway then only reached as far as Aix in Provence, and we joined it -there after a long _vetturino_ journey; then, after visiting the -wonderful deserted town of Les Baux near Arles and Vaucluse near -Avignon, we went to S. Laurent du Pont and the Grande Chartreuse, -greatly enjoying the beauty of the spring flowers there, as well as the -scenery. - - - - -X - -WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES - - "Al ogni uccello suo nido par bello." - - --_Italian Proverb._ - - "O my life! have we not had seasons - That only said, Live and rejoice? - That asked not for causes or reasons, - But made us all feeling and voice." - - --LOWELL. - - -On our arrival in England, we were delighted with our little Holmhurst, -which we arranged to be as much like Lime as possible, while many of the -plants and shrubs we had brought with us, were, in the garden, a -perpetual reminder of our old home. To my mother, however, our return -was greatly clouded by the loss of her only brother, my Uncle Penrhyn, -who died at Sheen while we were at Mentone, passing away most -peacefully, surrounded by his family. This uncle is one of the few -figures connected with my childhood with whom I have no associations but -those of unvarying kindness, and in later years we had been brought -nearer to him in our long winter visits at Sheen, and we missed him -greatly. - -My Handbook (nominally Murray's) of Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire, and -Berkshire had been published during our winter absence: my little book -"A Winter at Mentone" appeared soon after our return. With Murray's -Handbook I had taken as much pains as if it were to appear in my own -name, and felt as strongly the responsibility of what Miss Edgeworth -calls "irremediable words," once past the press. The "Winter at Mentone" -fell perfectly flat, but Murray was so pleased with the laudatory -notices which followed the appearance of the Handbook, that he asked me -to select any other counties I liked. I chose Durham and Northumberland, -and after the middle of July went there for three months. In undertaking -these counties, I again assented to an arrangement by which I was never -repaid for my work; but the work was one which I liked extremely, -bringing me in contact with endless interesting persons, enabling me to -be much with "Cousin Susan," who gave me a second home at Ridley Hall, -and opening a field of historic study of the most interesting kind. On -the way north I went to the Vaughans at Doncaster, of which Dr. Vaughan -had lately become Vicar. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Doncaster, July 24, 1861._--The people here are a perpetual - amusement to Kate, they are so quaint and original. She spoke to - one old woman the other day about her sinful ways and the necessity - for amendment. 'Na, na, Mrs. Vaughan,' she replied, 'I be got too - old for Mr. Satan noo; he canna hurt I noo.' Another old woman who - was brought into the hospital swore dreadfully all night long, to - the great annoyance of her neighbours; but when they complained she - said, 'Wal, I niver did it afore I coomed here, but I be gettin' - old, and I canna help it--and it's the will o' God, and I canna - help it.' - - "Kate said to an old man, 'What are you so low about, my man?' - 'Why,' he said, 'what wi' faith, and gas, and balloons, and - steam-ingines a-booming and a-fizzling through t' warld, and what - wi't' arth a going round once in twenty-four hours, I'm fairly - muzzled and stagnated.' - - "I have been to call on the daughters of 'Presence-of-mind Smith,' - who was Dean of Christ Church, and to the close of his life used to - tell this story of himself. 'In my life,' he said, 'there has been - one most fortunate incident. A friend of mine persuaded me to go - out with him in a boat upon a lake. I did not wish to go, but he - persuaded me, and I went. By the intervention of Providence, I took - my umbrella with me. We had not been long on the lake when the - violence of the waves threw my friend out of the boat drowning, and - he sank. Soon, as is the case with drowning persons, he came up - again, and clutched hold of the side of the boat. Then such, - providentially, was my presence of mind, that I seized my umbrella - and rapped him violently on the knuckles till he let go. He sank, - and I was saved.'" - -[Illustration: AT DURHAM.] - -When I arrived at Durham, I presented myself at once to my cousins the -George Liddells, who lived at a dingy brick house in the suburb called -Old Elvet. They had never seen me before, but welcomed me with the -utmost kindness and hospitality, making me quite at home with them. I -took a little lodging close by, but they made me dine with them almost -every day, and I went constant expeditions with them, staying to dinner -at the neighbouring houses, Elemore, Aldin Grange, &c. Durham itself I -always found charming. The smoke only gave a picturesqueness of its own, -and on Sunday there was a Sabbath of nature, for when the chimneys -ceased smoking, the birds began to sing, the flowers to bloom, and the -sky to be blue. Sunday, however, was a severe day with the George -Liddells, almost entirely spent in going to church, reading prayers, and -listening to long sermons at home. Even on ordinary days, _after_ long -morning prayers, we were expected to read all the Psalms and Lessons for -the day, verse by verse, before we went out. But with all this, George -Liddell was the very dearest and kindest of old men, and I was very fond -too of his wife--"Cousin Louise"--who was most amusing and original. - -Other cousins, who were intensely good to me at this time, were old -Henry Liddell, brother of my great-uncle Lord Ravensworth, and his wife, -who was daughter of Thomas Lyon of Hetton, my great-grandmother's -youngest brother. I had known them first at Bath many years before, -where they were kind to me when I had very few friends. With them lived -their daughters Charlotte and Amelia, and their youngest son William, a -very tall, very excellent, and very shy clergyman, who was his father's -curate at Easington. Here I paid my first visit to them. It is an ugly -village in the Black Country, but the Liddells' house was most -comfortable, having the sea close by, with delightful sands and rocks, -and many wooded "denes" running down to it, of which Castle Eden is -especially beautiful. - -I remember one day, after returning from Easington, dining with Dr. -Phillpotts, the celebrated Bishop of Exeter, who had a Canonry at -Durham. He was very old, and was obliged to have a glass of wine given -to him to obtain strength to go in to dinner, and every one wished him -good-night when he left the dinner-table. He was good enough also to -send for me alone to wish success to my book, &c. It was my only sight -of this kindly old man, though I knew his daughter well, and valued her -many good qualities. They both died shortly afterwards. Amongst the -company at the Bishop's were Mr. and Mrs. Johnson of Akeley Heads, whom -I also visited at their own beautiful place, which is on a high terrace -overlooking Durham. It came to them in a curious way. Mr. Johnson was -at school at Durham, and went out with his two elder brothers to spend -the day with a rich old uncle who lived there. The eldest brother was -his uncle's heir. They were sent to play in the garden, and seeing there -a beautiful ripe peach upon the wall, they were unable to resist it, and -ate it up. Soon the uncle came into the garden to look for that -identical peach. "Where is my peach gone?" he said. The three boys were -dreadfully frightened, and the two eldest denied knowing anything about -it, but the youngest said, "We picked it and ate it up." The old man -said nothing, but went home and altered his will that very afternoon, -and when he was killed by an accident three weeks afterwards, his -youngest nephew was found to be the heir of Akeley Heads. - -I was frequently invited by Dean Waddington, who was a man of stately -presence, "grand seigneur, fastueux, homme du monde," and had a great -reputation for learning and cleverness; but in my acquaintance with him -he seemed to care for nothing but his dinner, and his chief topic of -conversation was his sherry of 1815, for which he gave £12 a dozen. -"What with _diner à la Russe_, crinoline, and pale sherry," he said one -day, "England is fast going to the dogs." - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Dilston, August 28._--The Greys gave me a warm welcome to - Dilston--Mr. Grey being agent for the Greenwich Hospital Estates - there, and a great agriculturist. Dilston is lovely. The house - stands on a terraced height, covered with hanging woods, beneath - which flows the Devil's Water, the most beautiful of Northumbrian - rivers, with trout dancing about in its transparent brown currents, - and floating away over its crumpled-looking rocks. On the hilltop - is the ruined castle of the Earl of Derwentwater, with his nursery, - now overgrown by huge elder-trees, and the little chapel beneath - which he was buried at night beside his ancestors. Below is the old - grey pointed bridge, upon which, as he rode over, he repented of - his rebellion and turned back to the castle, when his wife threw - her fan at him, and calling him a coward, drove him forth to his - destruction." - - - "_Ridley Hall, Sept. 1._--'How happily the days of Thalaba roll by' - might be applied to all the dwellers at Ridley Hall; for 'Cousin - Susan' is so truly genial to her many guests, that they cannot fail - to enjoy being with her." - - - "_Chillingham Castle, Sept. 6._--I went with Cousin Susan to spend - two days at Matfen, Sir Edward Blackett's, a large modern Tudor - house with a church beside it, looking into a great park, and - entered through a stately gothic hall. Sir Edward and Lady - Blackett have not been married many years, but four of his - daughters by his first wife are now out. Lady Blackett also had - another Northumbrian husband, Mr. Orde of Whitfield, and, as - daughter of Sir Charles Lorraine, was once thought a great beauty. - Sir Edward drove me to see Aydon, a curious old castle which - belongs to him. - - "Yesterday I came to Chillingham from Belford, a beautiful drive, - over hills first, and then descending into moorland, purple with - heather, and bounded by the Cheviots, which rose deep blue against - the sunset sky. The castle, which is partly as old as King John, is - built round a great courtyard, from which flights of stone steps go - up to the principal apartments. On the stairs I found Lord - Tankerville, a handsome middle-aged man, with grey hair, romping - with his children. He is quite charming, so merry and so courteous. - He took me at once to my room, which is high up in one of the old - towers, and at eight we dined. Lady Tankerville is sister of the - Duke of Manchester, very pretty, and looks quite a girl, though her - three boys must be eight, nine, and ten years old." - - - "_Chillingham, Sept. 8._--This park is quite as beautiful in its - way as any scenery abroad, and much more so, I think, than any in - Scotland. It is backed by the Cheviot Hills, and often broken into - deep dells, with little streamlets rushing down them, and weird old - oaks whose withered branches are never cut off, sheltering herds of - deer. Great herds too of wild cattle, which are milk-white, and - have lived here undisturbed from time immemorial, come rushing - every now and then down the hillsides like an army, to seek better - pasture in the valley. Deer of every kind are to be seen upon the - hills, and Lady Tankerville hunts them furiously, tiring out twelve - horses in succession, placed to await her at different points in - the park. Nothing can be more lovely than the evening effects each - day I have been here, the setting sun pouring streams of golden - light into the great grey mysterious basins of the Cheviots, amid - which Marmion died and Paulinus baptized the ancient Northumbrians. - - "If the place is charming, the people are even more so. The family - is the happiest and most united I have ever seen. Lord Tankerville - is the best and kindest of human beings. Lady Tankerville, whose - spirits are so exuberant she scarcely knows how to get rid of them, - dotes on her 'Hossinun,' plays with her children, gallops on her - horses, hunts her deer, and manages her household, with equal - vivacity. She is the most amusing person possible, is never ill, - laughs fine-ladyism to scorn, and scrambles about the park, - regardless of colds and crinolines, in all states of the weather. - The three little boys, Charlie, Georgie, and Peddie, are all quite - as engaging in their different ways, and the two little girls are - lovely little creatures. - - "The prettiest story of an acceptance I ever heard of is that of - Lord Tankerville. He was playing at billiards with Lady Olivia - Montagu when he proposed, but she gave no definite answer. At last - she said, 'I think we must go into the drawing-room now; we have - been away long enough.'--'But what may I think, what may I say?' he - asked in agitation. 'Say that we have played our game, and that - you have won,' she answered. - - "Yesterday, as soon as luncheon was over, Lady Tankerville and I - set off for a regular good sketching, in which she soon outstripped - me, for her drawings are first-rate. In some she has been helped by - Landseer, who is often here, and who has added beautiful misty - backgrounds, and put herds of deer into her fern. - - "In the park is a beautiful old Peel tower, the home of the - Hepburns." - - - "_Chillingham, Sept. 10._--Lord Tankerville says, 'I do not see why - any one should ever go away from a place as long as he can make - himself happy there.' On that principle I should certainly never - leave Chillingham, which is the pleasantest place I ever was at. I - feel as if I had known Lord and Lady Tankerville all my life, his - kindness and her fun make one so entirely at home; and as for - Charlie, Georgie, and Peddie, there never were such little boys. - - "Yesterday I was awakened by the servant saying that an order had - just come out to have breakfast ready in twenty minutes, as we were - all going to Dunstanborough for the day. So we hurried down, and as - soon as we had eaten our breakfast, set off in two little - basket-carriages across the park and up the steep hills to the - moors. At the top we found a larger carriage, packed with luncheon, - and with plenty of wraps, for the day was most unpromising; but - Lady Tankerville had quite made up her mind that it _should_ be - fine, and that we _would_ enjoy ourselves; and so we most - certainly did. The drive across the moorlands was charming, such - sweeps of purple heather, with blue mountain distance. Then, after - twelve miles, we descended through the cornland to Dunstanborough, - and walked through the sandhills covered with rye-grass and bloody - cranesbill to the castle, on a reef of basaltic rocks overhanging - the sea, which in one place roars up beneath in a strange cavern, - known as the Rumbling Churn. Lady Tankerville and I drew Queen - Margaret's Tower, where she was concealed after the battle of - Hexham, and then we picnicked and rambled about. Coming home we - told stories. A tremendous shower came on, and then the sky cleared - for a golden sunset over the mountains, and a splendid descent into - the old deer-park." - - - "_Bamborough Castle, Sept. 12._--Yesterday, at four, we set off on - a gipsy picnic from Chillingham--little 'Co' (Corisande) on a pony, - with the tea-things in panniers; Lady Tankerville, a fat Mr. - Athelstane from Portugal, Charlie, Georgie, Peddie, and I walking. - The pouring morning turned into a beautiful afternoon, and we had a - delightful scramble through the ferny glades of the park, and up - the steep craggy hills to the moorlands. Here Lady Tankerville went - off through the heather to look after her little girl, and I told - the three boys the story of Littlecot Hall, till the Shetland pony, - 'Piccolomini,' arrived by the longer path. Then we lighted a fire - between two rocks, and Lady Tankerville and her children boiled a - kettle and cooked omelets over a fire of heather and fern, and - beautiful grapes, greengages, jam, and cakes unfitted us for the - eight-o'clock dinner. Then we came down like bushrangers, breaking - a path through the bracken, a great deal taller than ourselves, and - seeing in the distance the herds of wild white bulls. One or two - people came to dinner, but it was just the same simple merry meal - as usual. - - "The Tankervilles sent me here to-day--twelve miles--in their - carriage." - - - "_Bamborough Castle, Sept._ 13.--It is very pleasant, as you will - imagine, to be here again, and I have much enjoyed the delightful - sands and the splendid green waves which came rolling in all - yesterday afternoon. It was a lovely evening, warm enough to enjoy - sitting out on the seat amongst the tall bent-grass, and to watch - Holy Island quite distinct in the sunset, with all the little fleet - of red-sailed herring-boats coming round from North Sunderland. Old - Mrs. Liddell sits as usual in her deep window and looks through the - telescope. Amelia wanders about with her black spaniel, and - Charlotte rides furiously on the sands when out, and talks - incessantly, though pleasantly, when in." - - - "_Bamborough, Sept. 16._--Yesterday I set off at 8 A.M. in a - dogcart for Holy Island, one of the castle cart-horses being - harnessed for the purpose, and the castle joiner going with me to - find old wood for repairs. It was a wild morning, but gleams of - light made the country picturesque, and Waren Bay looked very - striking, backed by its angular purple hills, and strewn with - pieces of wreck, over which sea-birds were swooping. Only one bit - of sand was visible when we reached the ford, but the horse plunged - gallantly in. Then we had a very rough crossing of a quarter of an - hour in a boat through the great green waves to the island, where - we landed on the yellow rocks. Close by, on the green hill, stand - the ruins, so well described in 'Marmion,' of St. Cuthbert's Abbey, - the old cathedral of Lindisfarne--rather small after descriptions, - but beautiful in colour, and its massive round pillars, with - patterns upon them, almost unique in England. Beyond, was the still - blue harbour filled with fishing-boats, and the shore was lined - with men and women packing herrings in barrels of salt. At one - corner of the bay rises the castle on a conical hill like a - miniature Mont St. Michel, and Bamborough and Dunstanborough are - blue in the hazy distance." - - - "_Sept. 17._--Stephen Denison is here (my cousin by his marriage - with Miss Fellowes[196]), and I have been with him to pay a long - visit to Grace Darling's[197] old father, an interesting man, with - as much information as it is possible for any one to have who has - lived since he was one year old on a desolate island rock tending a - lighthouse. He lent us his diary to read, which is very curious, - and an awful record of wrecks and misery." - - [Illustration: ON ALLEN WATER, RIDLEY HALL.] - - - "_Ridley Hall, Sept. 19._--Cousin Susan and her old friend Miss - Coulson, with 'the boys' (the dogs), were waiting to welcome me in - the avenue, when I got out at the private station here. The house - is quite full of people, to whom it is amusing to help to do the - honours. Great is the autumnal beauty of the place. I have been - with Cousin Susan up the Birky Brae, and down by the Craggy Pass - and the Hawk's Nest--streams of sunlight falling upon the rocks and - river, and lighting up the yellow and red leaves which now mingle - with the green. The dogs walked with us to church to-day--Tarlie - was allowed to enter with the family, and Bloomer with the maids, - but Perette, Bianca, Fritz, and the Chowdy-Tow were sent back from - the door! - - "We have had a remarkable visit from an old Miss Clayton, an - eccentric, strangely-attired, old, very old lady, who had travelled - all the way from Chesters, on North Tyne, to see Staward Peel, and - then had rambled on foot hither down the rocks by the Allen. Both - she and her friend had fallen into the river in crossing the - stepping-stones above the wood, and arrived, carrying a large - reticule basket, and dripping with wet and mud, about five o'clock; - yet, as soon as she had been dried and fed, she insisted on setting - off again on foot to visit Haltwhistle and Bellister Castle before - going home at night!" - - - "_Streatlam Castle, Sept. 25._--I came with Cousin Susan to this - curious place, to which our cousin Mr. Bowes[198] has welcomed us - very cordially. The house is in a hollow--an enormous building of - the last century, enclosing a mediæval castle. I sleep in the - ghost-room, looking most grim and weird from its black oak with red - hangings, and containing a tall bed with a red canopy. Here the - only existing local Handbook says that 'the unfortunate Mary Queen - of Scots expired in captivity.' I am afraid the next Handbook will - be obliged to confess that she was beheaded at Fotheringay. - - "The long galleries are full of family portraits--Hyltons, - Blakistons, and Bowes's--one of whom, Miss Bowes of Streatlam, was - Mrs. John Knox! More interesting to me is the great picture of - Mary Eleanor, the unhappy Countess of Strathmore,[199] walking in - the gardens of Pauls-Walden. This house was the scene of her most - terrible sufferings." - - - "_Streatlam Castle, Sept. 27._--This is the oddest house I ever was - in! Everything is arranged for you, from the moment you get up till - the moment you go to bed, and you are never allowed to deviate from - the rules laid down: I even write this in time stolen from the - half-hour for dressing. We are called at eight, and at ten march in - to breakfast with the same procession as at dinner, only at this - meal 'Madame Bowes' does not appear, for she is then reclining in a - bath of coal-black acid, which 'refreshes her system,' but leaves - her nails _black_. After breakfast we are all set down to - employments appointed for the morning. At twelve Madame appears, - having painted the under-lids of her jet-black eyes with - belladonna. At two the bell rings for luncheon, and we are fetched - if not punctual to an instant. At three we are all sent out driving - (the coachman having exact orders where to take us) immense drives - (twenty-four miles to-day) in an open barouche and pair. At seven - we dine in great splendour, and afterwards we sit in the oak - drawing-room and talk about our ancestors! - - "The town of Barnard Castle is most picturesque, with a ruined - castle of the Baliols. Dickens, in early life, used frequently to - come down and stay there with some young artist friends of his. The - idea of 'Humphrey's Clock' first sprung from Humphrey, the - watchmaker in the town, and the picture in the beginning of the - book is of the clock over the door of his shop. While at Barnard - Castle, Dickens heard of the school at Bowes which he afterwards - worked up as Dotheboys Hall. Many of these schools, at £15 and £20 - a year, existed at that time in the neighbourhood, and were - principally used for the sons of London tradesmen, who, provided - their sons got a moderate education, cared little or nothing what - became of them in the meantime. Dickens went over to see the school - at Bowes, and was carefully shown over it, for they mistook him for - a parent coming to survey it, with a view of sending his son there. - Afterwards the school was totally ruined. At one of Mr. Bowes's - elections, the Nicholas Nickleby or former usher of the school, who - was then in want of a place, wrote to him to say in what poverty he - was. He 'had formerly been living with Mr. Shawe at Bowes, and they - had been happy and prosperous, when Mr. Dickens's misguided volume, - sweeping like a whirlwind over the schools of the North, caused Mr. - Shawe to become a victim to paralysis, and brought Mrs. Shawe to an - untimely grave.'" - - - _"Morpeth Rectory, Oct. 8._--My present host is Mr. Francis Grey, - an old likeness of his nephew, Charlie Wood: his wife, _née_ Lady - Elizabeth Howard, is as sweet-looking as she is charming. - - "Friday morning was pouring, with a thick sea-fog hiding the - country. Nevertheless Mr. Grey did not think it too bad for a long - expedition, and drove me in his little pony-carriage a dreary - twelve miles to Wallington, where we arrived about half-past - twelve. Wallington is a huge house of the elder branch of the - Trevelyans, represented in the North by Sir Walter, who is at the - head of teetotallers and Low Churchmen, while his wife is a great - friend of Ruskin, Rossetti, and all the Pre-Raphaelites. It is like - a French château, with tall roofs and chimneys, enclosing a hall, - once a court, which Lady Trevelyan and her artists have covered in - and painted with beautiful fresco studies of Northumbrian birds, - flowers, and insects, while the intervening spaces are filled with - a series of large pictures of the chief events in Northumbrian - history--very curious indeed. - - "Lady Trevelyan[200] is a little, bright, black-eyed woman, who was - charmed to see us, and more to see my drawings, which Mr. Grey had - brought. Any good opinion of me, however, which they led her to - entertain was quelched by my want of admiration for some wretched - little scraps by Ruskin--very scratchy sketches, after his manner. - After luncheon, which was as peculiar as everything else (Lady - Trevelyan and her artists feeding solely on artichokes and - cauliflowers), we went to the upper galleries to look at more - pictures. - - "Yesterday morning we went to the fine old Morpeth Church, which - has been 'restored,' one of the stained windows having been put in - by a poor old woman in the village. We saw her afterwards in her - garden gathering cabbages, and I told her I had seen the window. - 'Eh, hinnie,' she said, 'and ain't it bonnie? and I be going to - case it i' marble afore I dee, to mak it bonnier.' And then she - said, 'And noo come ben, hinnie, my dear, and see me hoose;' and - she showed me her cottage. - - "The Greys are one of the families who have a sort of language of - their own. A bad cold the Greys always call a _Shelley_, because of - a famous cold old Lady Shelley had when she came to stay with them. - This was the Lady Shelley who, when her carriage, full of people, - upset, and there was a great entanglement of legs, called out to - the footman, who came to extricate them, 'John, the black ones are - mine--the black ones are mine.'" - - - "_Warkworth, Oct. 6._--It is very pleasant being here with my kind - Clutterbuck cousins,[201] and this old-fashioned house, though - small, is most refined and comfortable, with its pervading smell of - roseleaves and lavender." - - - "_The Rock, Alnwick, Oct. 10._--I am now staying with the father of - a college friend, Charles Bosanquet, in a pleasant old-fashioned - house, an enlarged 'Peel tower.' The family are very united, genial - and kind; are friends of the Arnolds, Gaskells, &c., and related to - Mr. Erskine of Linlathen. I like Charlie Bosanquet so much in his - own home, that I am quite ashamed of not having tried to cultivate - him more when at Oxford. Yesterday he drove me to Craster Tower, - the old castellated house of the Crasters, a very ancient - Northumbrian family, now well represented by the old Squire and his - wife, their three tall daughters, and seven stalwart sons, one of - whom was at college with me. After luncheon we went over the tower, - its vaulted cellars and thickly walled rooms, and then walked to - the wild heights of Dunstanborough, with its ruins overhanging the - waves, and large white gulls floating up from the 'caverned shore' - of 'Marmion.' Then we went to Embleton to see one of the curious - fortified rectories of the North--fortified against the Scots." - - - "_Ford Castle, Oct. 15._--I enjoyed my visit at Rock increasingly, - and we made interesting excursions to Falloden and Howick. At the - former we dined with Sir George and Lady Grey. On Sunday the - beautiful little Norman chapel at Rock was filled from end to end - with the whole population of the village, all responding, all - singing, and forty-three (in that tiny place) remaining to the - Sacrament. Mrs. Bosanquet says they are truly a God-fearing people. - They live (as all over Northumbria) bound by the year like serfs, - close around the large farms. At Rock the people seem perfectly - devoted to the Bosanquets, who are certainly quite devoted to them. - 'My Missis herself can't feel it more than I do,' said the - gamekeeper when he heard the sailor son was coming home. - - "Yesterday morning I set off directly after breakfast with Charles - Bosanquet, in the sociable, on a long expedition. It was a really - lovely day, and the drive over the wild moorlands, with the pink - and blue Cheviot distances, was quite beautiful. At one we reached - Hedgeley, where we had been asked to luncheon at the fine old house - of the Carrs, looking up a mountain ravine, but a soldier-son first - took us up to Crawley Tower, a neighbouring ruined Peel. At three - we came on to Roddam, where an uncle and aunt of Charlie - Bosanquet's live--a beautiful place, with a terraced garden almost - overhanging the moorlands, and a dene stretching up into the - Cheviots. I had ordered a gig to meet me and take me to Ford, where - I arrived about half-past six, seeming to be driving into a sort of - gothic castle of Otranto, as we passed under the portcullis in the - bright moonlight. I found Lady Waterford sitting with her charming - old mother, Lady Stuart de Rothesay.... Her drawings are - indescribably lovely, and her singing most beautiful and pathetic. - Several people appeared at dinner, amongst them Lord Waterford (the - brother-in-law), who sat at the end of the table, a jovial - white-headed young-old man." - - - "_Ford Castle, Oct. 17._--Being here has been most pleasant, there - is so much to do and see both indoors and out. Lady Waterford is - perfectly charming.... She is now occupied in putting the whole - architecture of the castle back two centuries. Painting is her - great employment, and all evening she makes studies for larger - drawings, which she works upon in the mornings. She is going to - make a 'Marmion gallery' in the castle to illustrate the poem. - - [Illustration: FORD CASTLE, THE TERRACE.] - - "Yesterday we went to Palinsburn, where Paulinus baptized, and on - to Branxton to see Mr. Jones, who is the great authority about the - battle of Flodden, which he described to us till all the dull - ploughed fields seemed alive with heroes and armies. He is coming - to-night to talk about it again, for Flodden seems to be the great - topic here, the windows of the castle looking out upon the - battle-field. The position of the different armies and the site of - Sybil's Well are discussed ten times a day, and Lady Waterford - herself is still sufficiently a stranger here to be full of her - first interest about it. - - "To-day the pony-carriage took me part of the way to the Rowting - Lynn, a curious cleft and waterfall in the moorland, with a - 'Written Rock,' supposed to have been the work of ancient Britons. - Thence I walked by a wild path along the hills to Nesbitt, where I - had heard that there was a chapel of St. Cuthbert, of which I found - no vestiges, and on to Doddington, where there is a Border castle. - If you look on the map, you will see that this was doing a great - deal, and I was very glad to get back at five to hot tea and a talk - with Lady Stuart." - - - "_Roddam, Oct. 20._--I had not promised to return here, and I was - received almost rapturously, so welcome is any stray guest in this - desolate place.... Sunday here was a curious contrast to that at - Rock, for though there is a population of nine hundred, the Rector - waited for us to begin afternoon service, as no one else came!" - - - "_Roddam, Oct. 22._--Yesterday was terribly dark and cold, but we - went a long expedition across the moorland to the Raven's Burn, a - wild tumbling rivulet in a chaos of grey rocks, and thence by the - farm of 'Blaw Weary'--picturesquely perched upon rocks which were - covered with white goats, like a bit of Roman Campagna--to the - 'Raven's Rock' in a rugged cleft of the moorland. To-day I have - been to Linhope Spout, a waterfall at the end of a gorge, and - to-morrow we go to the Three Stone Burn, where there are Druidical - remains." - - "_Ripley Castle, Yorkshire, Oct. 25._--Lady Ingilby (who is sister - of Mr. Bosanquet of Rock) kindly pressed my coming here on my way - south, and here I am. It is a fine old castle added to, about four - miles from Harrogate, with beautiful gardens and a lovely - neighbourhood. At the head of the stairs is the portrait of a Nun, - who is said to descend from her picture at night and tap at the - bedroom doors, when, if any one says, 'Come in'--in she comes. - Eugene Aram was the gardener here, and the Ingilbys have all his - letters. Cromwell insisted on taking the castle, but the then Lady - Ingilby, a staunch Royalist known as 'Trooper Jane,' would not let - him have either food or rest there, and sat opposite him all the - night through with two loaded pistols in her girdle." - - - "_Hickledon Hall, Yorkshire, Oct. 27._--Sir Charles Wood's carriage - was waiting at Doncaster for me and a very nice young Seymour.[202] - Charlie seems delighted to have me here, and I think Sir Charles - quite charming, not a bit as if he had the government of all India - upon his shoulders." - -Many of the visits which I paid in 1861 laid the foundation of after -friendships, but chiefly that to Ford, whither I went again and again -afterwards, and where I have passed some of the happiest days of my -life. Lord and Lady Tankerville, after a few years, passed out of my -horizon--I never have quite known how or why. The Liddells, Mrs. -Clutterbuck and her daughters, and the saintly Lady Ingilby, added much -to my enjoyment for several years. This was especially happy for me, as -I see by my journals of the time how in the following winter I felt more -than ever depressed by the constant snubbing I received from different -members of my immediate family. Such snubs are trifling in themselves, -but, like constant dropping of water in one place, they wear away the -spirit at last. All this time my sister was bravely exerting herself in -cheering her mother and aunt, as well as in a clever (and eventually -successful) scheme for the improvement of their fortunes. Miss Hughan -(afterwards Lady John Manners) showed her at this time an unwearied -kindness which I can never forget. - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Holmhurst, Dec. 18, 1861._--I went to-day to see three ladies - take the veil in the convent at Hastings. I had to get up in the - cold early morning and be in the chapel by half-past eight. At nine - the Bishop of Brighton arrived in a gold robe and mitre, and took - his place with his back to the altar, leaning against it. Then a - side door opened, and a procession came in singing--some nuns, and - the three brides of Christ dressed in white watered silk, lace - veils, and orange flowers. There were six little bridesmaids also - in white veils and wreaths. The brides looked ghastly livid, and - one of them would have fallen if a nun had not rushed forward to - support her. The Bishop then made them an address, the point of - which was that they were not going into a convent for their own - benefit or that of the world, but for 'the consolation of - Christ'--_that_ was to be their work and duty through life--'the - consolation of Christ for the sins of the world.' Then he fixed his - eyes upon them like a basilisk and cried, 'Venite.' They tottered, - quivered, but scarcely moved; again in a louder voice he called - 'Venite;' they trembled and advanced a few steps. Once more - 'VENITE,' and they all three fell down prostrate at his feet. - - "Then the most solemn music was played, the most agonising wailing - dirges were sung, and the nuns coming behind with a great black - pall, spread it over the prostrate figures. It was as if they were - dead. The bridesmaids strewed flowers, rosemary and laurestinus, as - they sang out of their books: the spectators cried and sobbed till - they were almost hysterical; but nothing was to be seen but the - sunlight streaming in upon a great black pall. - - "Then all the saints of the monastic orders were invoked and - responded to, and then the nuns closed in, so that no one could see - how the three novices were hurried away, only to reappear in their - nun's dress. Then they received the Sacrament. - - "It is impossible to say how well this little Holmhurst seems - suited to the mother. There is still a lingering of autumnal leaves - and flowers, and the grey castle rises against a gleaming sea. - Thinking of her, and of our home view as it is now, one cannot help - recalling Keble's lines:-- - - 'How quiet shows the woodland scene, - Each flower and tree, its duty done, - Reposing in decay serene, - Like weary men when age is won, - Such calm old age as conscience pure - And self-commanding heart ensure, - Waiting their summons to the sky, - Content to live, but not afraid to die.'" - - - [Illustration: VIEW FROM HOLMHURST.] - - [Illustration: ENTRANCE TO HOLMHURST: "HUZ AND BUZ."] - - JOURNAL. - - "_Holmhurst, Dec. 27._--It was on Monday, the 16th, that I was - sitting in my study in the twilight, when the mother came in - suddenly. She had been down to Hastings with Mrs. Colegrave and - Miss Chichester to see Florence Colegrave at the convent, and there - first heard the dreadful news of the event of Saturday. Seeing her - so much agitated terrified me to the last degree. I thought that it - was Arthur who was dead, and when I heard that it was the Prince - Consort, the shock was almost as great. It seems impossible to - realise that one will not be able to say 'the Queen and Prince - Albert' any more: it is a personal affliction to every one, and the - feeling of sympathy for the Queen is overpowering. The Prince sank - from the time he read the letter about the deaths of the King and - Princes of Portugal. Then they tried to persuade him not to see - the messengers who returned from taking the letters of condolence: - he insisted upon doing so, and never rallied.... From the first the - Prince thought that he should not live, and from the Wednesday Sir - Henry Holland thought so too, and wrote in the first bulletin, - '_Hitherto_ no unfavourable symptoms,' to prepare the public mind; - but the Queen came into the anteroom, saw the bulletin, and - scratched out the 'hitherto:' she would entertain no idea of danger - till the last[203].... When the Prince was dying, he repeated the - hymn 'Rock of Ages.' ... A letter from Windsor Castle to Mr. P. - describes the consternation and difficulty as to how the Queen was - to be told of the danger: no one would tell her. At last Princess - Alice relieved them all by saying, 'I will tell her,' and took her - out for a drive. During the drive she told the Queen that the - Prince could not recover. When he died, the Queen gave one - piercing, heart-rending scream, which echoed all over the castle, - and which those who stood by said they could never forget, and - threw herself upon the body. Then she rose and collected her - children and spoke to them, telling them that they must rally round - her, and that, next to God, she should henceforth look to them for - support. - - "C. W. sends an odd story about the King of Portugal. After his - death, Princess Alice made a drawing of him lying dead, and, at the - top of the drawing, the gates of heaven, with Queen Stephanie - waiting to receive the spirit of her husband. A little while after, - M. Lavradio sent the Queen a long account of the King's illness, in - which it was said that when the King lay dying he fell into a deep - sleep, and woke up after some little time saying that he had - dreamt, and wished he could have gone on dreaming, that he lay - dead, and that his spirit was going up to heaven, and that at the - gates he saw 'Stephanie' waiting to welcome him in. Everything - fresh that one hears of Prince Albert makes one realise, 'Le prince - était grand, l'homme l'était davantage.'"[204] - -In the course of the winter I was at Miss Leycester's house in Wilton -Crescent, and saw there Miss Marsh and Sir Culling Eardley, both of whom -told me much that was curious. I remember Sir Culling Eardley's saying, -"I feel sure that the destruction of the temporal power will be the end -of the Papacy, and I am also sure that there is one person who agrees -with me, and that is Pio Nono!" He also told me that-- - - "One morning Mrs. Pitcairn at Torquay told her husband that she had - been very much disturbed by a dream. She said she had seen her - little boy of four years old carried into the house dreadfully - crushed and hurt, and that all the principal doctors in the - town--Madden, Mackintosh, &c.--had come in one after the other to - see him. - - "Her husband laughed at her fears, but said, 'Whatever you do, - don't tell this to the boy; it would only frighten him - unnecessarily.' However, Mrs. Pitcairn did not promise, and when - her husband was gone out, she called her little boy to her, and - taking him on her knee, spoke to him very seriously, saying, 'If - anything happened to you now, where would you be?' &c. - - "That afternoon, the little boy went with his elder brother to see - some new houses his father was building. In crossing the highest - floor, the ill-fastened boards gave way, and he fell, passing - through all the floors, into the cellar. Half-an-hour afterwards - his mother saw him carried into the house, and all the doctors - come in to see him, one after another, in the exact order of her - dream. - - "The little boy recovered; but four years after, his elder brother, - playing on the shore at Babbicombe, pulled down some rocks upon - himself, and was killed upon the spot." - -In March 1862 an event occurred which caused a great blank in our -circle, and which perhaps made more change in my life than any other -death outside my own home could have done--that of my aunt Mrs. Stanley. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Holmhurst, March 23, 1862._--In March last year dear Uncle - Penrhyn died. Aunt Kitty was with him, and felt it deeply. Now she - also, on the same day of the same week, the first anniversary of - his death, has passed away from us--and oh! what a blank she has - left! She was long our chief link with all the interest of the - outside world, writing almost daily, and for years keeping a little - slate always hanging to her davenport, on which, as each visitor - went out, she noted down, from their conversation, anything she - thought my mother might like to hear. - - "Five weeks ago Arthur went to join the Prince of Wales at - Alexandria. He was very unwilling to leave his mother, but he took - the appointment by her especial request, and she was delighted with - it. He took leave of her in the early morning, receiving farewells - and blessings as she lay on the same bed, from whence she was - unable afterwards to speak one word to her other children. When he - went, my mother was very ill with bronchitis. Aunt Kitty also - caught it, but wrote frequently, saying that 'her illness did not - signify, she was only anxious about my mother.' It did signify, - however. She became rapidly weaker. Congestion of the lungs - followed, and she gradually sank. The Vaughans were sent for, and - Mary was with her. We were ready to have gone at any moment, if she - had been the least bit better, but she would not have been able to - have spoken to the mother, perhaps not have known her, so that I am - thankful for my sweet mother's sake that she should have been here - in her quiet peaceful home. - - "There were none of the ordinary features of an illness. Aunt Kitty - suffered no pain at all: it was a mere passing out of one gentle - sleep into another, till the end. - - "Kate wrote--'What a solemn hour was that when we were sitting in - silence round her bed, watching the gradual cessation of - breathing--the gradual but sure approach of the end! Not a sound - was heard but the sad wailing of the wind as her soul was passing - away. She lay quite still: you would hardly have known who it was, - the expression was so changed--Oh no, you would never have known it - was the dear, dear face we had loved so fondly. And then, when all - ceased, and there was stillness, and we thought it had been the - last breath, came a deep sigh, then a pause--then a succession of - deep sighs at long intervals, and it was only when no more came - that we knew she was gone. Charles then knelt down and prayed for - us, "especially for our dear absent brother, that he might be - comforted"--and then we rose up and took our last look of that - revered countenance.' - - "When people are dead, how they are glorified in one's mind! I was - almost as much grieved as my mother herself, and I also felt a - desolation. Yet, on looking back, how few words of tenderness can I - remember receiving from Aunt Kitty--some marigolds picked for me in - the palace garden when I was ill at Norwich--a few acknowledgments - of my later devotion to my mother in illness--an occasional - interest in my drawing: this is almost all. What really makes it a - personal sorrow is, that in the recollection of my oppressed and - desolate boyhood, the figure of Aunt Kitty always looms forth as - that of _Justice_. She was invariably just. Whatever others might - say, she never allowed herself to be biassed against me, or indeed - against any one else, contrary to her own convictions. - - "I went with Mary and Kate to the funeral in Alderley churchyard. - We all assembled there in the inner school-room, close to the - Rectory, which had been the home of my aunt's happiest days, in the - centre of which lay the coffin covered with a pall, but garlanded - with long green wreaths, while bunches of snowdrops and white - crocuses fell tenderly over the sides. 'I know that my Redeemer - liveth' was sung as we passed out of the church to the churchyard, - where it poured with rain. The crowds of poor people present, - however, liked this, for 'blessed,' they said, 'is the corpse that - the rain falls on.'" - -[Illustration: ALDERLEY CHURCH AND RECTORY.] - -During this sad winter it was a great pleasure to us to have our -faithful old friend the Baroness von Bunsen at St. Leonards, with two of -her daughters--Frances and Matilda. She had been near my mother at the -time of her greatest sorrow at Rome, and her society was very congenial -at this time. We were quite hoping that she would have made St. -Leonards her permanent winter-home, when she was recalled to live in -Germany by the death of the darling daughter of her heart--Theodora von -Ungern-Sternberg--soon after giving birth, at Carlsruhe, to her fifth -child. - -In this winter I went to stay at Hurstmonceaux Rectory with Dr. -Wellesley, who was never fitted to be a country clergyman, but who never -failed to be the most agreeable of hosts and of men. In person he was -very like the Duke of Wellington, with black eyes, shaggy eyebrows, and -snow-white hair. His courtesy and kindness were unfailing, especially to -women, be their rank what it might. A perfect linguist, he had the most -extraordinary power of imitating Italians in their own peculiar -dialects. Most diverting was his account of a sermon which he heard -preached in the Coliseum. I can only give the words--the tone, the -gestures are required to give it life. It was on the day on which the -old Duke of Torlonia died. He had been the great enemy of the monks and -nuns, and of course they hated him. On that day, being a Friday, the -Confraternità della Misericordia met, as usual, at four o'clock, in SS. -Cosmo and Damiano in the Forum, and went chanting in procession to the -Coliseum. Those who remember those days will recall in imagination the -strong nasal twang of "Sant' Bartolome, ora pro nobis; Santa Agata, ora -pro nobis; Sant' Silvestro, ora pro nobis," &c. Arrived at the Coliseum, -the monk ascended the pulpit, and began in the familiar style of those -days, in which sermons were usually opened with "How do you do?" and -some remarks about the weather. - - "Buon giorno, cari fratelli miei. Buon giorno, care sorelle--come - state tutti? State bene? Oh, mi fa piacere, mi fa molto piacere! Fa - bell' tempo stasera, non e vero? un tempo piacevole--cielo sereno. - Oh ma piacevole di molto! - - "Ebbene, cari fratelli miei--Ebbene, care sorelle--sapete cosa c' è - di nuovo--sapete che cos' è successo stammattina in città? Non lo - sapete--maraviglia! Oh, non vi disturbate--nò--nò--nò--non vi - disturbate affatto--ve lo dirò, io ve lo spieghierò tutto. - - "Stammattina stessa in città è morto qualcheduno. Fu un uomo--un - uomo ben inteso--ma che specie d' uomo? Fu un uomo grande--fu un - uomo ricco--fu un uomo potente--fu un uomo grandissimo, - ricchissimo, potentissimo, magnificentissimo, ma morì!--morì, cari - fratelli miei, quell' uomo così grande, così ricco, così - potente--morì!--così passiamo tutti--così finisce il - mondo--moriamo. - - "E che fu quell' uomo così importante che è morto? Fu un Duca! un - Duca, cari fratelli miei! E, quando morì, cosa fece? È montato - sopra, montato sopra su alla porta del Paradiso, dove sta San - Pietro, colle sue sante chiavi. Picchia il Duca.... 'Chi è là,' - disse San Pietro. 'Il Duca di Torlonia!'--'Ah, il Duca di - Torlonia,' disse San Pietro, 'quel nome è ben conosciuto, ben - conosciuto davvero.' Quindi si voltò San Pietro all' angelo custode - che teneva il libro della vita, e disse, 'Angelo mio, cercate un pò - se trovate quel nome del Duca di Torlonia.' Dunque l'angelo cercò, - cercò con tanta pena, con tanta inquietudine, voltò tante pagine in - quel libro così grande della vita, ma disse infine, 'Caro Signor - San Pietro mio, mi rincresce tanto, ma quel nome lì non mi riesce - di trovarlo.' - - "Allora si voltò San Pietro, e disse, 'Caro Signor Duca mio, mi - rincresce tanto, ma il suo nome non si trova nel libro della vita.' - Rise il Duca, e disse, 'Ma che sciocchezza! cercate poi il titolo - minore, cercate pure il titolo maggiore della famiglia, cercate il - Principe di Bracciano, e lo troverete sicuramente.' Dunque l'angelo - cercò di nuovo, cercò con sollecitudine, voltò tante tante pagine - in quel libro così immenso--ma alla fine disse, 'Caro Signor San - Pietro mio, mi rincresce tanto--ma quei nomi non si trovan qui, nè - l'uno, nè l'altro.' Allora disse San Pietro, 'Mi dispiace tanto, - Signor Duca mio--ma bisogna scendere più giù--bisogna scendere più - giù.' - - "Scese dunque il Duca--poco contento--anzi mortificato di - molto--scese giù alla porta del Purgatorio. Picchia il Duca. 'Chi è - là,' disse il guardiano. 'Il Duca di Torlonia' (_piano_). 'Ah, il - Duca di Torlonia,' disse il guardiano. 'Anche qui, quel nome è ben - conosciuto, molto ben conosciuto--ma bisogna scendere più - giù--bisogna scendere più giù.' - - "Scese dunque il Duca. Ahimè! quant' era miserabile! come gridava, - quanto piangeva, ma--gridando, piangendo--scendeva--scendeva - giù--alla porta dell' Inferno, dove sta il Diavolo. Picchia il - Duca. 'Chi è là,' disse il Diavolo. 'Il Duca di Torlonia' - (_pianissimo_). 'Ah, il Duca di Torlonia,' disse il Diavolo, 'oh - siete il benvenuto, entrate qui, caro amico mio, oh quanto tempo - siete aspettato, entrate qui, e restate per sempre.' Ecco cari - fratelli miei, ecco care sorelle, quel ch' è successò quest' oggi, - stammattina, in città, a quel povero Duca di Torloni-a!" &c. - -I narrated this story afterwards to Mrs. F. Dawkins and her daughters, -and they told me that some friends of theirs were at Rome on August 10, -St. Laurence's Day--which fell on a Friday that year--and St. Laurence, -as all know, was roasted on a gridiron. That day, the monk began as -usual-- - - "Buon giorno, cari fratelli miei--buon giorno, care sorelle (sniff, - sniff, sniff)--ma sento qualche cosa (sniff, sniff)--che cosa sento - io (sniff)--sento un odore. E l'odore de che? (sniff, sniff, - sniff)--è l'odore di carne (sniff). Chi specie di carne può essere? - E l'odore di carne bollito? (sniff). Nò, nò, nò, non e bollito - (sniff, sniff, sniff). Ah, lo vedo, è l'odore di carne arrosto, è - l'odore di carne arrostito--è l'odore d'un santo arrostito--è - l'odore di San Lorenzo." - -Lady Marian Alford used to tell a similar story. Lord Brownlow was at S. -Agostino, when a monk, who was walking about, preaching, in the great -pulpit there, said, "Che odore sento io? E l'odore di montone?--nò! È -l'odore di presciutto?--nò! È l'odore delle anime che friggono nell' -inferno." - -I cannot remember whether it was in this or the preceding winter that I -spent an evening with Dr. Lushington, the famous judge, who, having been -born in the beginning of 1782, and preserving evergreen all the -recollections of his long life, was one of the most delightful of men. I -remember his describing how all the places ending in _s_ in England take -their names from people who have lived there. Leeds is so called from an -old person called Leed or Lloyd, of whom the great city is now the only -memorial. Levens is from Leofwin. - -He said that "the Duchesse d'Angoulême never forgave the Court of Rome -for not canonising her father." She always regarded Louis XVI. as a -saint. Of her mother she spoke with less confidence--"she had faults," -she said, "but they were terribly expiated." - -Dr. Lushington said that when he was a very little child travelling -alone with his father, the carriage stopped near a public-house, and -the footman and coachman, with the license of those times, went in to -drink. He was himself asleep in the corner of the carriage, when a -pistol, directed at his father, came crashing in at the window, with a -demand for money. Dr. Lushington distinctly remembered his father -drawing out a long green silk purse, in which were one hundred guineas, -and deliberately counting out twelve guineas into the man's hand, and -saying, "There, take that, that is enough." "Well," said the man, "but I -must have your watch."--"No," said his father, "it is an old family -watch, and I cannot give it to you." Upon this the man said, "Well, God -bless you," and went away. Immediately after the servants came out of -the inn, and hearing what had happened, said they were armed, they could -pursue the highwayman, and they could easily take him. "No," said Dr. -Lushington's father, "let him go. The man God-blessed _me_, and I'll be -damned if I hang _him_." - -At this time I took the opportunity of persuading Dr. Lushington to tell -me himself the most celebrated of his stories, which I had already heard -from his son Godfrey and from Arthur Stanley. I wrote it down at the -time, and here it is, in the very words of the old judge. - - "There was once, within my memory, an old gentleman who lived in - Kent, and whose name, for very obvious reasons, I cannot mention, - but he lived in _Kent_. He was a very remarkable old man, and - chiefly because in the whole course of his very, very long - life--for he was extremely old--he had never been known on any - single occasion to want presence of mind; he had always done - exactly the right thing, and he had always said exactly the right - word, at exactly the right moment. The old gentleman lived alone. - That is to say, he had never married, and he had no brother or - sister or other relation living with him, but he had a very old - housekeeper, a very old butler, a very old gardener--in fact, all - the old-fashioned retinue of a very old-fashioned household, and, - bound together by mutual respect and affection, the household was a - very harmonious one. - - "Now I must describe what the old gentleman's house was like. - Upstairs, there was a very long passage, which ended in a blank - wall. At the end of the passage, on the left, was a dressing-room, - and on the right was a bedroom, the room in which the old gentleman - himself slept. The bedroom was entered by a very heavy swing-door, - which could only be opened from the inside--that is to say, the old - gentleman carried the key upon his watch-chain, and let himself in - and out. When he wished housemaids or other persons to go in or - out, he left the door open; but when he was inside and shut the - door, no one could come in unless he opened the door to them. - People may say 'it was very eccentric;' it _was_ very eccentric: - but the old gentleman was very peculiar; it was the way he chose - to live: at any rate, it was a fact. Through the bedroom, opposite - the door into the passage, was another door which led into the - plate-room. This was also a very heavy swing-door, which could only - be opened from the _outside_, and very often in summer the old - gentleman would set it open at night, because he thought it gave - more air to the bedroom. Everything depends upon your attending to - and understanding the geography of these rooms. You see they were - all _en suite_ cross-wise. If you stood in the plate-room, and all - the doors were open, you would see the dressing-room, and _vice - versâ_. - - "One morning when the old gentleman came down to breakfast, he - found upon his plate a note. He opened it, and it contained these - words--'Beware, you are in the hands of thieves and robbers.' He - was very much surprised, but he had such presence of mind that he - threw the note into the fire and went on buttering his toast, - having his breakfast. Inwardly he kept a sharp look-out upon all - that was going on. But there was nothing special going on whatever. - It was very hot summer weather; the old gardener was mowing the - lawn, the old housekeeper cooked the dinner, the old butler brought - it in: no, there was nothing whatever especial going on. - - "That night, when the old gentleman went to bed, he took particular - care to examine his room, and to see that his heavy swing-door was - well fastened, so that no one could come in to disturb him. And - when he had done this, he went to bed and fell asleep, and slept - very well till the next morning, for nothing happened, nothing - whatever. - - "When the next morning came, he rang his bell for his hot water as - usual, but nobody came. He rang, and rang, and rang again, but - still nobody came. At last he opened his bedroom door, and went out - down the passage to the head of the staircase, and called to the - butler over the banisters. The butler answered. 'Why did you not - attend to my bell?' said the old gentleman. 'Because no bell rang,' - answered the butler. 'Oh, but I have rung very often,' said the old - gentleman; 'go downstairs again, and I will pull the bell again; - watch if it rings.' So the butler went downstairs, and the old man - pulled the bell, but no bell rang. 'Then,' said the old gentleman, - 'you must send for the bell-hanger at once; one cannot live with - broken bells; that sort of thing cannot be allowed to go on in the - house,'--and he dressed and went down to breakfast. - - "While he was eating his breakfast, the old gentleman found he had - forgotten his pocket-handkerchief, and went up to his room to get - it. And such was the promptitude of that old-fashioned household, - that the village being close to the house, and the bell-hanger - living in the village, the master's orders had already been obeyed, - and the bell-hanger was already in the room, standing on a ladder, - arranging the new wire of the bell. In old-fashioned houses, you - know, the bell wires come through the wall and go round the top of - the room, so that you can see them, and so it was in this house in - Kent. You do not generally perhaps observe how many wires there are - in your room, but it so happened that, as he lay in bed, the old - gentleman had observed those in his, and there were three wires. - Now he looked, and there were four wires. Yes, there was no doubt - there were four wires going round his room. '_Now_,' he said, - '_now_ I know exactly what is going to happen,' but he gave no - outward sign of having discovered anything, and he went down and - finished his breakfast. - - "All that day everything went on as usual. It was a dreadfully hot - day in July--very sultry indeed. The old gentleman was subject to - bad nervous headaches, and in the afternoon he pretended to be not - quite so well. When dinner-time came, he was very suffering indeed. - He spoke of it to the butler. He said, 'It is only one of my usual - attacks; I have no doubt it is the weather. I shall be better - to-morrow; but I will go to bed early.' And towards half-past nine - he went upstairs. He left the door of the bedroom ajar, so that any - one could come in; he set the door of the plate-room wide open, for - the sake of more air to the bedroom, and he went to bed. When he - was in bed, he rang the bell, the new bell that the bell-hanger had - put up that morning. The butler came. The old gentleman gave some - orders about horses for the next day, and then said, 'Do not - disturb me in the morning. I had better sleep off my headache; I - will ring when I want to get up. You can draw the curtains round - the bed, and then shut the door.' So the butler drew the curtains - round the bed, and went out, shutting the door after him. - - "As soon as the old gentleman heard the footsteps of the butler die - away down the passage, he dressed himself completely from head to - foot; he took two loaded pistols and a blunderbuss. He stealthily - opened the heavy swing-door of the bedroom. He let himself out - into the dark passage. He shut to the bedroom door behind him. It - fastened with a click; he could not go in himself any more, and he - crossed the passage, and stood in the dark dressing-room with the - door open. - - "It was still very early, and eleven o'clock came, and nothing - happened; and twelve came and nothing happened; and one o'clock - came and nothing happened. And the old gentleman--for he was - already very old--began to feel very much exhausted, and he began - to say to himself, 'Perhaps after all I was wrong! Perhaps after - all it is a hallucination; but I will wait till two o'clock.' - - "At half-past one o'clock there was a sound of stealthy footsteps - down the passage, and three figures passed in front of him and - stood opposite the bedroom door. They were so near that he could - have shot them every one; but he said to himself, 'No, I'll wait, - I'll wait and see what is going to happen.' And as he waited, the - light from the dark lantern which the first man carried fell upon - their faces, and he recognised them. And the first figure was the - butler, and the second figure was the bell-hanger, and the third - figure, from having been long a magistrate on a London bench, he - recognised as the most notorious ruffian of a well-known London - gang. He heard the ruffian say to the butler, 'I say, it's no use - mincing this kind of thing: no use doing this kind of thing by - halves: better put him out of the way at once, and go on to the - plate afterwards.'--'Oh no,' said the butler, 'he has been a good - master to me; I'll never consent to that. Take all he has; he'll - never wake, not he; but you can't do him any harm; I'll never - consent to that.' And they wrangled about it for some time, but at - last the butler seemed to get the better, and the ruffian had to - consent to his terms. - - "Then exactly what the old gentleman had expected happened. The - butler, standing on tiptoe, could just reach the four wires of the - bells, which came through into the low passage above the bedroom - door. As the butler reached the lowest of the wires, and by leaning - his weight upon it, pulled it downwards, it was seen that the wire - was connected with the bolt of the door on the inside; the bolt - rolled up, and the heavy swing-door of the bedroom, of which the - hinges were well oiled for the occasion, rolled open. 'There,' said - the butler, as they passed into the room, 'master always sleeps - like that. Curtains drawn all round the bed. He'll not hear - anything, not he.' And they all passed in through the open door of - the plate-room. The old man waited till they were entirely occupied - with the plate-chest, and then he slipped off his slippers, and, - with a hop, skip, and a jump, he darted across the room, and--bang! - they were all caught in a trap. He banged to the heavy swing-door - of the plate-room, which could only be opened from the outside. - - "Having done that--people may believe it or not, but I maintain - that it is true--the old man had such presence of mind, that he - undressed, went to bed, and slept soundly till the next morning. - Even if this were not so, till the next morning he did not send for - the police, and the consequence was that when he did send for the - police, and the door was opened, the following horrible scene - revealed itself: The ruffian had tried to make a way of escape - through the roof, had stuck fast, and was dreadfully mangled in the - attempt: the bell-hanger had hung himself from the ceiling: and the - butler was a drivelling idiot in the corner, from the horror of the - night he had gone through." - -Dr. Lushington had been employed in the inquiry which ensued, and had -personal knowledge of all he narrated. I must record one more story -which he told me--in his words:-- - - "I had a great-uncle, and as I am a very old man, you may imagine - that my great-uncle was alive a very long time ago. He was a very - eccentric man, and his peculiar hobby when in London was to go - about to dine at all sorts of odd places of entertainment, to amuse - himself with the odd characters he fell in with. One day he was - dining at a tavern near St. Bride's in Fleet Street, and at the - table opposite to him sat a man who interested him exceedingly, who - was unusually amusing, and quaint, and agreeable. At the end of - dinner the stranger said, 'Perhaps, sir, you are not aware that you - have been dining with a notorious highwayman?'--'No, indeed,' said - my great-uncle, not the least discomposed. 'What an unexpected - pleasure! But I am quite sure, sir, that you cannot always have - been a highwayman, and that your story must be a very remarkable - one. Can I not persuade you to do me the honour of telling it to - me?'--'Well,' said the stranger, 'we have had a very pleasant - dinner, and I like your acquaintance, and I don't mind if I do - tell you my story. You are quite right in thinking that I was in - early life as free as you are, or indeed, for that matter, as I - myself am now. But one day, as I was riding over Hounslow Heath, I - was surrounded by highwaymen. They dragged me from my horse, and - then said, "We don't want your money, and we don't want your life, - but we want _you_, and you we must have. A great many of us have - been taken, and we want recruits; you must go with us." I protested - in vain; I said it was impossible I could go with them; I was a - respectable member of society, it was quite impossible that I could - become a highwayman. "Then," they said, "you must die; you cannot - be allowed to live, to go out into the world, and tell what has - been proposed to you." I was in a terrible strait, and eventually I - was obliged to promise to go with them. I was obliged to promise, - but I made such difficulties that I was able to exact two - conditions. One was that at the end of seven years I should be - allowed to go free, and that I should never be recognised or taken - by them again. The other was that in the seven years I was with - them, no deed of actual cruelty should ever be committed in my - presence. - - "'So I rode with the highwaymen, and many strange things happened. - I saw many people robbed and pillaged, and I helped to rob and - pillage them, but no deed of actual cruelty was ever committed in - my presence. One day, after I had been with the band four years, we - were riding in Windsor Forest. I saw a carriage approaching down - the long avenue. It was sure to have ladies in it; there was likely - to be a disagreeable scene; it was not necessary that I should be - present, so I lingered behind in the forest. Presently, however, I - was roused by so dreadful a scream from the carriage that I could - no longer resist riding forward, and I spurred on my horse. In the - carriage sat a lady, magnificently dressed, evidently just come - from Windsor Castle, and the highwaymen had torn the bracelets from - her arms and the necklace from her neck, and were just about to cut - off her little finger, because there was a very valuable diamond - ring upon it, which they could not otherwise get off. The lady - implored me to have pity upon her, to intercede for her, and I did. - I represented that the highwaymen had made me a solemn promise that - no deed of personal cruelty should ever be committed in my - presence, that on that condition only I was with them, and I called - upon them to keep their promise. They disputed and were very angry, - but eventually they gave in, and rode off with the rest of their - booty, leaving me alone with the lady. - - "'The lady then said she owed me everything. She certainly owed me - her life, for she was quite sure that she should never, never, have - survived the loss of her little finger. She was quite sure, she - said, that I could not like being a highwayman, and she entreated - me to abandon the road and reform my life. "I can get you a - pardon," she said, "I can set you up in life--in fact, I can do - anything for you." Then I told her my story. I told her how the - highwaymen had made a promise to me, and they had kept it; and I - told her how I had made a promise to them, and I must keep it also. - I had promised to go with them for seven years, and I had only been - with them four; I must go with them for three years more. "Then," - said the lady, "I know what will happen; I know what stringent - measures are going to be enforced for the suppression of - highwaymen. I am certain you cannot escape for three years: you - will be taken, and you will be condemned to death. When this - happens, send for me, and I will save your life. I am Mrs. Masham." - - "'It was indeed Mrs. Masham, the great favourite of Queen Anne. - - "'Before the expiration of the three years I was taken, I was - tried, and I was condemned to death. While I was lying in Newgate - under sentence of death, I sent to Mrs. Masham, and Mrs. Masham - flung herself at the feet of Queen Anne, and the Queen spared my - life.'" - -This was the story of Dr. Lushington's great-uncle's friend. - - * * * * * - -In April I returned to my work in the North. My first visit worth -recording was one to the old house of Mainsforth in Durham, the home of -Mrs. Surtees, widow of the genial and delightful historian, who was the -intimate friend of Sir Walter Scott, though he offended him when it was -discovered that he had himself written the glorious ballads which he had -imposed upon Sir Walter as originals.[205] He was also the author of -many ballads of a simpler and more touching character, which have never -attained to the position in English poetry which they surely deserve. - - * * * * * - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Mainsforth, April 26, 1862._--This has been a most interesting - visit, both the old ladies of the house so amusing, and so full of - stories of the past, in which they are still living, having shut - out the present ever since the death of Mr. Surtees, twenty years - ago. Miss Robinson has lived with 'my Sister Surtees' for the last - fifteen years, and thinks there is no place in the world like - Mainsforth: and indeed it is a most pleasant old house, thoroughly - unpretending, but roomy and comfortable, close to the road on one - side, but a very quiet road, with a fringe of ancient trees and a - rookery, and on the other looking out on the wide green lawn and - broad terrace-walk, bordered by clumps of hyacinths and tall - turncap lilies. My room has two low windows, which slide back like - doors, and look down through glades of hollies, like a picture, to - the silvery windings of the Skene. It is quiet, and stillness - itself; no sound but the cawing of the rooks, and the ticking of - the clock on the broad old staircase. - - "Ever since an accident five years ago, 'my Sister Surtees' has sat - on a sofa in a sitting-room covered with fine old prints pasted on - the walls, with a large tapestry screen on one side of her, and - during the three days I have been here, I have never seen her move - from this place, to which she appears to be glued. 'My Sister Mary' - does all the hospitalities of the house, in the heartiest, most - cordial way, and both always keep open house at Mainsforth for - every one who likes to come. University students from Durham are - constantly here, and the house is a second home to all the poor - clergy of the neighbourhood, who come whenever they want a good - dinner, or ready interest and kindly sympathy. A new curate was - appointed to the neighbouring church of Bishop Middleham, and was - asked to stay here while he looked out for lodgings: he stayed on - and on, till he never went away again: he stayed here three years! - The students of Durham University have just put up two stained - glass windows in the church here, in token of gratitude for the - kindness they have received at Mainsforth. Imagine the students of - Oxford doing such a thing! - - "On Thursday I went by the early train to Darlington, and, after - seeing the town, set off in a gig on a long round of country - villages. I saw the 'Hell Kettles,' three pools which are supposed - to be fathomless, and into which, if a sheep falls, it is believed - to be always 'a going' to the end of all time: and at one o'clock - came to Sockburne, a lovely peninsula on the Tees, where an old - ruined chapel stands on the edge of the green lawn above the - rushing river, and beside it 'the Wishing-Tree,' a chestnut 1100 - years old, where everything wished for comes true. I had an - introduction to Mrs. Blackett, the owner, who lives in a beautiful - modern house with terraces above the river, and when I was shown - in, I found with her, in three young ladies spinning, three - friends of last year, daughters of Sir Edward Blackett of Matfen. - After luncheon, though it rained, they all walked with me three - miles along the lovely hanging woods by the Tees to 'the Leper's - Bath.' - - "Yesterday I went off again, before the family breakfast, to - Stockton-on-Tees, a manufacturing town, celebrated for possessing - the widest street in England. I dined at Greatham Hospital with Mr. - Tristram, the Master. It seemed a most melancholy place morally, no - one speaking to anybody else, every one quarrelling about their - rights of way, the keys of their church, even about their interest - in the poor old men of the Hospital. The country is now all - blackened with coal-pits, and it is curious to hear my present - hostesses describe it all trees and verdure, as it was in their - youth. But the natives are still wonderfully simple and full of - kind-heartedness. At Billingham a poor woman having spent - half-an-hour in trying to find the keys of the church for me, said, - when I begged her to give it up, 'Na, na, I'll try once again, if - only to show a willin'.'" - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Mainsforth, April 24, 1862._--Sitting alone with Miss Robinson - just now, she talked much of Sir Walter Scott. - - "'I knew Sir Walter Scott very well: to hear him talk was like - hearing history with all the disagreeable parts weeded out. I often - dined with him in Edinburgh. I went with my Sister Surtees to his - house just after his first paralytic seizure. We went to take him - a book, and, not knowing of his illness, my Sister Surtees asked if - he was at home. The servant said he did not know; so my sister told - him just to give Sir Walter the book and say it was left by Mrs. - Surtees of Mainsforth. But Sir Walter, who was sitting in his - study, heard my sister's voice, and said, "I am sure that is Mrs. - Surtees of Mainsforth," and sent to desire us to come in. We found - him dreadfully altered, and he described to us all that had - happened. "I was sitting with Sophy, when I was taken," he said - (she is dead--they are all dead now), "and I could not speak; so I - ran upstairs into the drawing-room, where there were several ladies - in the room, and there I soon became insensible and could not be - roused. I remember it as if it were to-day," he said; "they all - began to beel, and they made such a tiran, you can scarcely imagine - it. I did not wish to frighten them more, so I did not say what I - felt, but I'll tell you what it was, Mrs. Surtees--_I shook hands - with death_." - - "'Lady Scott was brought up in France. She was a very frivolous - person--very exceedingly. The first time I dined with them, I sat - next to her, and she wore a brocaded silk gown which she told me - cost two hundred guineas. "Dear me, Lady Scott," I said, "but is - not that a very large price?"--"Yes," she replied, "but that's what - my dressmaker charges _me_." People never knew what present to give - to Sir Walter; so, when they wished to make a present, they gave - ornaments to Lady Scott, and she would come down to a common dinner - with her arm quite covered with bracelets. What more she could have - worn if she went to court, I cannot imagine. She never entered - into Sir Walter's pursuits at all. - - "'Donald was the old piper, and a very fine-looking person he was. - He used to walk about the gallery outside playing the pibroch on - the bagpipes. He could not have done it in the room, it was so - deafening. Even from outside, the noise was tremendous, but Sir - Walter liked it because it was national.'" - - - "_April 25._--I have had a long talk with Mrs. Surtees. I wish I - could put down half she said about the Ettrick Shepherd. - - "'Once we wanted to go to the Highlands. There were my sister and - two other ladies: we were a party of four. Surtees would not go - with us because he said we should be such a trouble to him; but he - said, "What I advise you to do is, to go to Mr. Blackwood when you - get to Edinburgh, and ask him to give you a tour." So when we got - to Edinburgh, we went to Mr. Blackwood, and told him what Surtees - said. "Oh dear, Mrs. Surtees," said Mr. Blackwood, "what a pity you - were not here a minute ago, for Mr. Hogg, the Ettrick Shepherd, has - only just gone out of the shop, and he would have been the very - person to have told you all you wanted to know." Now you must know - that Surtees had been very kind to Hogg, and I was very anxious to - see him, so I said, "Oh dear, but can we not still see - him?"--"Well," said Mr. Blackwood, "he is going out of town now, - but he will be back in a short time, and if you like to leave your - address, he will come and call upon you." So I was just going to - write my name on a card, when who should come in again but the - Ettrick Shepherd. "Oh, sir," said Mr. Blackwood, "I'm so glad to - see you back, for this is Mrs. Surtees, and she wants you to give - her a tour in the Highlands."--"Eh!" said the Shepherd, "coom awa - then wi' me into th' backshop, and I'll do't." - - "'So we went into the backshop, and he told me where to go, and - showed me all the route on a large map that was there; and when he - had done he said, "Weel, Mrs. Surtees, an noo I've shown ye the - route, I'd jist like to go wi' ye."--"Well," I said, "Mr. Hogg, we - are only four ladies, but we would do all we could to make it - agreeable to you, if you liked to go."--"Eh," said the Shepherd, - "but I could'na just leave the lammies." - - "'So then he said, "Eh, Mrs. Surtees, but my wife's here, and I'm - just a going to choose her a silk gown: will ye coom awa along wi' - us an' help to choose it?" So I went with them (a very nice-looking - woman too Mrs. Hogg was) and helped to choose the gown. - - "'Once I met them at dinner at Sir Walter's. Sir Walter treated - Mrs. Hogg very well, and thought her (as the poet's wife, you know) - every bit as good as Lady Scott; but Lady Scott thought her very - different, and she did not carry it off very well. - - "'We were at Abbotsford when Washington Irving was there. When - people went away, Sir Walter used to conduct all those he - especially liked over the hill as far as a particular little - wicket. When Mr. Irving went, he said, "Now I'll take you as far as - the wicket." I walked with them, and when they parted, I so well - remember Mr. Irving saying what a pleasant visit he had had, and - all that kind of thing--and then Sir Walter's hearty, earnest "Coom - again."' - - "Mrs. Surtees had also much to say of Mrs. Siddons. - - "'I used often to meet Mrs. Siddons at the house of the Barringtons - when they lived at Sedgefield. She was always acting. I remember as - if it were yesterday her sitting by me at dinner and asking George - Barrington how Chinamen eat their rice with chopsticks. "Well, but - I pray you, and how do they do it?" she said in a theatrical tone; - and then, turning to the footman, she said, "Give me a glass of - water, I pray you; I am athirst to-day." After dinner, Lord - Barrington would say, "Well now, Mrs. Siddons, will you give us - some reading?" - - "'Her daughter was with her, who was miserably ill-educated. She - could not even sew. The Miss Barringtons took her in hand and tried - to teach her, but they could make nothing of her.'" - - - "_April 26._--Miss Robinson has been telling me, 'When we were in - London, we went to a chapel in Bedford Place where Sydney Smith - often used to preach, and we were shown into a pew; for, you know, - in London you do not sit where you like, but they show you into - pews--the women people that keep the church do. There was a strange - lady in the seat, and I have never seen her before or since. It was - not I that sat next to her--my Sister Surtees was the person. The - service was got through very well, and when the preacher got up, it - was Sydney Smith. I remember the sermon as if it were to-day. It - was from the 106th Psalm. He described the end of man--the "portals - of mortality." "Over those portals," he said, "are written Death! - Plague! Famine! Pestilence!" &c., and he was most violent. I am - sure the poor man that had read the service and was sitting - underneath would rather have been at the portals of mortality than - where he was just then, for Sydney Smith thumped the cushion till - it almost touched his head, and he must have thought the whole - thing was coming down upon him. The lady in the pew was quite - frightened, and she whispered to my Sister Surtees, "This is Sir - Sydney Smith, who has been so long in the wars, and that is what - makes him so violent."--"Oh dear, no," said my Sister Surtees, "you - are under a great mistake," &c. - - "Miss Robinson described her youth at Houghton-le-Spring, now - almost the blackest place in Durham. - - "'Houghton-le-Spring was a lovely rustic village. There was not a - pit in the neighbourhood, and the neighbourhood was the best that - was known in England. Sixteen or seventeen carriages waited at the - church-gate every Sunday. My father lived at Herrington Hall, and - our family were buried in Bernard Gilpin's tomb, because they were - related. - - "'The Lyons[206] of Hetton were a beautiful family, but Mrs. - Fellowes was the loveliest. Jane and Elizabeth died each of a rapid - decline. Mrs. Lyon embarked £60,000 in the pit at Hetton, lost it, - and died of a broken heart. People used to say, 'Do you know where - Mrs. Lyon's heart is? At the bottom of Hetton coal-pit.'" - -After a visit to the George Liddells at Durham, I went on to -Northumberland. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Westgate Street, Newcastle, May 6, 1862._--Yesterday afternoon I - came here, to the old square dark red brick house of the Claytons, - who are like merchant-princes in Newcastle, so enormous is their - wealth, but who still live in the utmost simplicity in the - old-fashioned family house in this retired shady street. The family - are all remarkable. First comes Mr. John Clayton of Chesters, the - well-known antiquary of North Tyne, a grand, sturdy old man, with a - head which might be studied for a bust of Jupiter;[207] then there - is his brother Matthew, a thin tall lawyer, full of jokes and queer - sayings; then the venerable and beautiful old sister, Mrs. Anne - Clayton (beloved far and wide by the poor, amongst whom she spends - her days, and who are all devoted to 'Mrs. Nancy Claytoun'), is the - gentlest and kindest of old ladies. And besides these, there is the - nephew, George Nathaniel, a college friend of mine, and his wife, - Isabel Ogle, whom we have often met abroad. - - "Last night, Dr. Bruce[208] dined, the leader of the 'Romanist' - antiquarians in the county, in opposition to Dr. Charlton and the - 'Mediævalists.'" - - "_May 7._--How amused my mother would be with this quaintest of - families, who live here in the most primitive fashion, always - treating each other as if they were acquaintances of the day, and - addressing one another by their full titles, as 'Miss Anne Clayton, - will you have the goodness to make the tea?'--'Mr. Town-Clerk of - Newcastle, will you have the kindness to hand me the toast?' &c. - Miss Anne is a venerable lady with snow-white hair, but her brother - Matthew, who is rather older, is convinced that she is one of the - most harum-scarum young girls in the world, and is continually - pulling her up with 'Miss Anne Clayton, you are very - inaccurate,'--'Miss Anne Clayton, be careful what you say,'--'Miss - Anne Clayton, another inaccuracy,'--while the poor old sister goes - on her own way without minding a bit. - - "This afternoon we have been to Tynemouth, and most refreshing was - the sea-air upon the cliffs, and the sight of that enchanting old - ruin standing on its rocky height. The journey was very curious - through the pit, glass, and alkali country. - - "This evening old Mr. Matthew has been unusually extraordinary, and - very fatiguing--talking for exactly two hours about his bootmakers, - Messrs. Hoby & Humby, whence they came, what they had done, and how - utterly unrivalled they were. 'Miss Anne Clayton,' he said at the - end, 'I hope you understand all I've been saying. Now wait before - you give an opinion, but above all things, Miss Anne Clayton, - don't, don't be inaccurate.'" - - - "_Dilston Hall, May 8, 1862._--I left Westgate Street this morning - directly after breakfast, and getting out of the train at Blaydon, - walked by Stella and Ryton to Wylam. Ryton was very interesting to - me, because the church is full of monuments of my Simpson - relations, including that of old Mrs. Simpson, the mother-in-law of - Lady Anne, of whom we have a picture, and of her father, Mr. - Andersen,[209] from whom the property came. As I was going through - the churchyard, the sexton poked up his head from an open grave to - stare at me. 'Where can I get the church keys?' I said. 'Why, I'll - tell you wherefrom you'll get them; you'll just get them out of my - coat-pocket,' he answered, and so I did. It was a beautiful church, - with rich stained windows, oak stalls, and tombs, and outside it - lovely green haughs sloping down to the Tyne. - - "Thence I walked on to see Bradley,[210] the home of my - great-grandmother Lady Anne Simpson. It is a charming place, with - deep wooded glens filled with what Northumbrians call rowan and - gane trees, and carpeted with primroses and cowslips. - - "I arrived at Dilston by tea-time, and afterwards we went out along - the terraced heights, and I longed for you to see the view--the - rich hanging woods steeped in gold by the setting sun, while behind - rose the deep blue moorlands, and from below the splash of the - Devil's Water came through the gnarled oaks and yellow broom." - - "_Old Elvet, Durham, May 4._--On Friday I drew in the lovely woods - by the Devil's Water, and then walked, overtaken by a dreadful - storm on the way, to Queen Margaret's cave in Deepden, where she - met the robber. Yesterday a wild moorland drive took me to - Blanchland,[211] a curious place, with a monastic church and - gateway, and a village surrounding a square, in the deep ravine of - the Derwent. Then a still wilder drive brought me to Stanhope, - whence I came here by rail to the kind Liddell cousins. - - "George Liddell has been telling me how, when they lived out of the - town at Burnopside, a poor woman lived near them at a place called - 'Standfast Hill,' who used to have periodical washings, and put out - all the things to dry afterwards on the bank by the side of the - road. One day a tramp came by and carried them all off: when the - daughter came out to take the things in, they were all gone, and - she rushed back to her mother in despair, saying that they were all - ruined, the things were all gone, &c. - - "The Liddells went up to see that poor woman afterwards and to tell - her how sorry they were; but she said, 'Yes, there's my poor Mary, - she goes blearing about like a mad bull; but I say to her, "Dinna' - fash yersel, but pray to the Lord to have mercy on them that took - the things, for they've paid far dearer than I ever paid for - them."'" - -In June I was at Chartwell in Kent, when Mr. Colquhoun (who was one of -the most perfect types of a truly Christian _gentleman_ I have ever -known), told me the following story, from personal knowledge both of the -facts and persons:-- - - "On awaking one morning, Mr. Rutherford of Egerton (in - Roxburghshire) found his wife dreadfully agitated, and asked her - what was the matter. 'Oh,' she said, 'it is something I really - cannot tell you, because you could not possibly sympathise with - it.'--'But I insist upon knowing,' he said. 'Well,' she answered, - 'if you insist upon knowing, I am agitated because I have had a - dream which has distressed me very much. I dreamt that my aunt, - Lady Leslie, who brought me up, is going to be murdered; and not - only that, but in my dream I have seen the person who is going to - murder her:--I have seen him so distinctly, that if I met him in - any town of Europe, I should know him again.'--'What bombastical - nonsense!' said Mr. Rutherford; 'you really become more and more - foolish every day.'--'Well, my dear,' said his wife, 'I told you - that it was a thing in which you could not sympathise, and I did - not wish to tell you my dream.' - - "Coming suddenly into her sitting-room during the morning, Mr. - Rutherford found his wife still very much agitated and distressed, - and being of choleric disposition, he said sharply, 'Now do let us - have an end once for all of this nonsense. Go down into Fife and - see your aunt, Lady Leslie, and then, when you have found her - alive and quite well, perhaps you will give up having these foolish - imaginations for the future.' Mrs. Rutherford wished no better; she - put a few things into a hand-bag, she went to Edinburgh, she - crossed the Firth of Forth, and that afternoon at four o'clock she - drove up to Lady Leslie's door. The door was opened by a strange - servant. It was the man she had seen in her dream. - - "She found Lady Leslie well, sitting with her two grown-up sons. - She was exceedingly surprised to see her niece, but Mrs. Rutherford - said that having that one day free, and not being able to come - again for some time, she had seized the opportunity of coming for - one night; and her aunt was too glad to see her to ask many - questions. In the course of the evening Mrs. Rutherford said, - 'Aunt, when I lived at home with you, whenever I was to have an - especial treat, it was that I might sleep in your room. Now I am - only here for one night; do let me have my old child's treat over - again: I have a special fancy for it;' and Lady Leslie was rather - pleased than otherwise. Before they went to bed, Mrs. Rutherford - had an opportunity of speaking to her two cousins alone. She said, - 'You will be excessively surprised at what I ask, but I shall - measure your affection for me entirely by whether you grant it: it - is that you will sit up to-night in the room next to your mother's, - and that you will tell no one.' They promised, but they were very - much surprised. - - "As they were going to bed, Mrs. Rutherford said to Lady Leslie, - 'Aunt, shall I lock the door?' and Lady Leslie laughed at her and - said, 'No, my dear; I am much too old-fashioned a person for - that,' and forbade it. But as soon as Mrs. Rutherford saw that Lady - Leslie was asleep, she slipped out of bed and turned the lock of - the door. Then, leaning against the pillow, she watched, and - watched the handle of the door. - - "The reflection of the fire scintillated on the round brass handle - of the door, and, as she watched, it almost seemed to mesmerise - her, but she watched still. Suddenly the speck of light seemed to - appear on the _other_ side; some one was evidently turning the - handle of the door. Mrs. Rutherford rang the bell violently, her - cousins rushed out of the next room, and she herself threw the door - wide open, and there, at the door, stood the strange servant, the - man she had seen in her dream, with a covered coal-scuttle in his - hand. The cousins demanded why he was there. He said he thought he - heard Lady Leslie's bell ring. They said, 'But you do not answer - Lady Leslie's bell at this time in the night,' and they insisted - upon opening the coal-scuttle. In it was a large knife. - - "Then, as by sudden impulse, the man confessed. He knew Lady Leslie - had received a large sum for her rents the day before, that she - kept it in her room, and that it could not be sent away till the - next day. 'The devil tempted me,' he said, 'the devil walked with - me down the passage, and unless God had intervened, the devil would - have forced me to cut Lady Leslie's throat.' - - "The man was partially mad--but God had intervened." - - JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_Holmhurst, July 27, 1862._--A gorgeous beautiful summer day at - length, and it is our last here. To-morrow we go north. It has been - a pleasant summer, and it will be a very bright one to look back - upon. I have had the great delight of having Charlie Wood here for - four days--days of endless conversations, outpourings of old griefs - and joys, of little present thoughts and anxieties, of hopes and - aspirations for the future, which I should not venture upon with - any one else. And besides, we have had a succession of visitors, - each of whom has enjoyed our home, whilst our little Holmhurst - daily twines itself more and more round our own hearts. Sometimes I - have a sort of inward trembling in thinking that I trace an - additional or increasing degree of feebleness or age in my sweetest - mother, but I do not think her ill now, and may go to the North - with a confident feeling that it will be at the time which will - suit her best, as she will have other friends with her with whom - she would rather be alone. My sweet darling! what should I do - without her? and how blank and black the whole world would seem! - Yet even then I should bless God that this place, now consecrated - by memories of her, would still be my home, and, in fulfilling her - wishes, her designs, I should try to link the desolate present to - the sunny past. I cannot be grateful enough for her power of - bearing and rallying from great blows. The loss of Aunt Kitty in - the spring, the impending loss of Aunt Esther, are furrows which - God permits, but which He too smooths over. I have even the comfort - of feeling that it would be thus in case of my own death, dreadful - as that would be to her at the time." - -Early in August I went with my mother for a long visit to Buntingsdale -in Shropshire, the old pleasant friendly home of the Tayleurs. The -master of the house, William Tayleur, had come very late into his -property, after a long period of almost cruel repression during the life -of his eccentric father; but, unlike most people, the late attainment of -great wealth only made him full of anxiety that as many as possible -should benefit by it, and he was the very soul of courtesy, hospitality, -and generosity. With him lived his two delightful old sisters (already -mentioned in the account of my childhood), emancipated when past fifty -from a thraldom like that of the schoolroom. Of these, my mother's great -friend, Harriet, was the younger--a most bright, animated, clever, and -thoroughly excellent person, exceedingly popular in Shropshire society. -The elder, Mary, was very delicate in health, but a very pretty, gentle -old lady, who always wore an immense bonnet, ending in a long shade of -the kind called "an ugly," so that people used to call her "the old lady -down the telescope." Buntingsdale is one of the finest houses in -Shropshire, a large red brick mansion, with very handsome stone -mouldings and pillars, and a most splendid flower-garden, bordered by a -high terrace overlooking the little shining river Terne and its pretty -watermeadows. I have seldom known my mother happier than during this -visit. It touched her so much to find how she was considered by these -faithful old friends--how, after many years' absence, all the people she -wished to see were asked to meet her, yet all arranged with thoughtful -care, so as to cause her the least possible amount of fatigue and -emotion. - -We went to Stoke to visit my grandfather's grave, and any of his old -parishioners who wished to see my mother were bidden to meet her in the -churchyard. There we found fourteen poor women and three old men -waiting. To the changed Rectory she never looked. Then we were for some -days at Hodnet, where Lady Valsamachi[212] was staying, and both at -Hodnet and Hawkestone my mother was warmly welcomed by old friends. I -was glad to have the opportunity of walking with her in the beautiful -fields consecrated to her by recollections of her happy life long ago in -intimacy with the Hebers. From Hodnet we went to spend a few days with -Henry de Bunsen at Lilleshall Rectory, which had a charming garden, -where all his parishioners were invited to walk on Sunday afternoons. -Thence my mother returned home, and I went towards my northern work. - - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Weeping Cross, Stafford, August 21, 1862._--Miss Sarah Salt met - me at the Stafford station, and drove me here--a moderate-sized - house, simply furnished, but with the luxury of a cedar-wood - ceiling, which smells delicious. Out of a window-seat in the low - comfortable library rose the thin angular figure of Harriet Salt, - speaking in the subdued powerless way of old. She had a huge cat - with her, and an aunt--rather a pretty old lady. 'What is your - aunt's name?' I said afterwards to Miss Sarah. 'Oh, Aunt - Emma.'--'Yes, but what is her other name? what am I to call - her?'--'Oh, call her Aunt Emma; she would never know herself by any - other name.'--'And what do you do when your Aunt Emma Petit is here - too?'-'Oh, she is only Aunt Emma, and this is the other Aunt Emma; - so when Aunt Emma from Lichfield is here, and we want this one, we - say, "Other Aunt Emma, will you come here?"' - - "After luncheon, we went out round the domain--paddocks with round - plantations, and a good deal of garden. Miss Salt rode a white - pony, we walked. Then the aunt mounted the pony, and she and Miss - Sarah and I went a longer round, Miss Sarah breaking down the - fences and pulling the pony through after her. 'Will not the - farmers be angry?' I said. 'Oh, no; I threatened to have them up - before the magistrates for stopping up a road, so we compromised; - they are to have their road, and I am to break down their fences - and go wherever I like, whether there is a road or not.' - - "At seven the clergyman and his wife came to dinner. I took in the - aunt, a timid old lady, who seldom ventured a remark, and then in - the most diffident manner. This was her first--'I think I may say, - in fact I believe it has been often remarked, that Holland is a - very flat country. I went there once, and it struck me that the - observation was correct.' In the evening Miss Sarah looked at my - drawings, and said, 'Well, on the whole, considering that they are - totally unlike nature, I don't dislike them quite so much as I - expected.' - - "We breakfasted this morning at half-past seven, summoned by a - gong; Miss Sarah having said, 'At whatever hour of the day or night - you hear that gong sound, you will know that you are expected to - appear _somewhere_.' She presided at the breakfast-table with a - huge tabby-cat seated on her shoulder. 'Does not that cat often - tear your dress?' I asked. 'No,' she replied, 'but it very often - tears my face,' and went on pouring out the tea." - - - "_August 22._--Yesterday was hot and steamy, without a breath of - air. Miss Sarah drove me and the clergyman's wife to Cannock Chase, - a wild heathy upland, with groups of old firs and oaks, extending - unenclosed for fifteen miles, and surrounded by noblemen's houses - and parks. Here we joined a picnic party of fifty people. English - fashion, scarcely anybody spoke to anybody else, and the families - sat together in groups. Afterwards the public played at 'Aunt - Sally,' and I walked with Miss Salt and her friends Misses - Anastasia and Theodosia Royd far over the moorlands. A ridiculous - old gentleman went with us, who talked of 'mists, while they - enhanced the merits of nature, obscuring the accuracy of vision.' - He also assured us that whenever he saw a snake, he shut his eyes - and cried 'Murder!' We mounted another hill for kettle-boiling and - tea, and then danced country-dances to the sound of a fiddle. It - was seven o'clock and the mists were rolling up from the hollows - when we turned to go home. Mr. Salt was heard blowing a horn in the - distance, which his daughter answered by a blast on her whistle, - and so we found the carriage." - - -I am sorry not to find any letters recording the visit I paid after this -to Mr. Petit, the ecclesiologist. He lived at Lichfield in a house built -by Miss Porter, Dr. Johnson's step-daughter. With him resided his three -sisters and seven cats, who appeared at all meals as part of the family, -and rejoiced in the names of "Bug, Woodlouse, Nebuchadnezzar, Ezekiel, -Bezor, Rabshakeh, and Eva--'the mother of all the cats.'" Mr. Petit was -most extraordinary, but a very interesting companion. I had a capital -sight of the cathedral with him, beautiful still, though sadly -"jemmyfied" by Scott, who has added some immense statues in the choir -which put everything out of proportion, and has put up a bastard-gothic -metal screen. At the end of an aisle is Chantrey's monument of the two -Robinson children. One of them was burnt to death in reaching to get -from the chimney-piece the snowdrops represented in her hand; the other -died of consumption caused by too much rowing. When I was at Lichfield -their mother was still living there with her third husband. - -We went up Borrow Copp, a charming mound near the town, crowned by a -chapel-like summer-house. Here the three Saxon kings are supposed to be -buried whose bodies are represented in the arms of Lichfield. - -The Petits are Petits des Etampes, and were refugees from Caen. They had -a valuable miniature of Mary Queen of Scots by Bernard Lens, from their -family connection with the Guises. Far more extraordinary than any other -house I have ever seen was their country place of--"Bumblekite Hall!" - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Ripley Castle, August 28, 1862._--In coming down to dinner, I - found a tall distinguished-looking lady upon the staircase, with - whom I made friends at once as Charlie Wood's aunt, Lady Georgiana - Grey. This afternoon I went with her and Miss Ingilby to - Knaresborough, a town with stone roofs on a height above the Nid, - crowned by the ruins of the castle which contains the vaulted - dungeon where the murderers of Thomas à Becket were confined. Below - the castle is the public-house called 'Mother Shipton,' bearing her - picture and the inscription-- - - 'Near to this petrifying well - I first drew breath, as records tell.' - - Through the inn--kept "by one 'Almeda Burgess'--is a walk by the - wooded bank of the river to the petrifying well, which is highly - picturesque. The water falls from an overhanging umbrella-like - cliff into a deep basin. A chain of stuffed birds is hung up for - petrifaction, taking from twelve to fifteen months to turn into - stone: bird's-nests take twelve months. - - "Also in the valley of the Nid, on the east of the town, is St. - Robert's Cave, excavated, as the guide told us, by St. Robert, 'a - gentleman who wished to live very retired.' This was the place - where the body of Clarke was discovered, which led to the execution - of Eugene Aram. It is a most curious story. - - "Eugene was the son of Peter Aram, who was head-gardener at Ripley - Castle, and very respectable. But, together with two others, - Housman and Clarke, Eugene arranged a curious scheme of robbery. - They gave out that they were going to give a grand supper, and - borrowed a quantity of plate, which they made away with, and on the - night of the supposed supper Eugene and Housman murdered Clarke, - that it might be supposed, when he was not forthcoming, that he - alone was the robber. Afterwards Eugene went at night to Housman's - house and talked over what was to be done. Before they left he - said, 'If your wife is in bed upstairs, she must have heard us; we - must make this secure,' and they went up intending to murder her if - she was awake, but they passed the candle before her eyes, and she - bore it without flinching. Then they went down again and burnt the - clothes of the murdered man. Only the buttons fell uninjured - amongst the cinders, and were found next morning by the wife. - Afterwards, whenever she had a quarrel with her husband, she - frightened him by saying, 'How about those buttons?' - - "Housman and Aram buried the body in St. Robert's Cave, which was - then filled with earth. Brushwood and briars grew over it, and no - trace was left; but the murderers had a perpetual dread that some - day the Nid would rise and lay the body bare, and whenever there - was a very high wind, Housman for years used to go to see that it - was not uncovered. - - "Eugene Aram went away to Norfolk, where he prospered exceedingly, - and 'visited with the best families.' But fourteen years after the - murder, some workmen digging in St. Robert's Cave found a skeleton. - 'I shouldn't wonder if this were Clarke,' said one of them. 'No, it - is not,' said one of his companions, and this led to his arrest. - It was Housman. He then confessed to the murder, and said that - Eugene Aram was his accomplice; but Eugene Aram was gone. - - "It happened, however, that a Knaresborough pedlar, in his walks - through Norfolk, accidentally recognised Eugene Aram in a garden. - On his return home, he gave notice to the constables, who went to - Norfolk and fetched him away, and he was executed. The murder took - place in 1745, the execution in 1759. It is said that after the - murder Eugene never gave his right hand to any one. After he was - executed, the 'finger of scorn pointed at his family,' and they - went to America. The mother of the old woman who showed us the cave - knew Clarke's widow intimately. - - "A letter of Eugene Aram is preserved at Ripley Castle.[213] There - were many letters there from Peter Aram, his father, but they were - destroyed by the late Lady Ingilby, because they were 'so wicked - and blasphemous.' The chief point against Eugene Aram was that, - when he was discovered, a defence was found which he had written - twelve years before: this is made use of in Bulwer's novel. - - "In the evening something was said about many ghost-stories being - the result of a practical joke. Lady Georgiana Grey, who had been - sitting quietly, suddenly rose--awful almost with her white face - and long black velvet dress--and exclaimed, 'If any one ever - _dared_ to play a practical joke upon me, _all_ my fortune, _all_ - my energies, my whole _life_ would be insufficient to work my - revenge.' And she swept out of the room. They say it is because of - the Grey story about a head. Lady Georgiana first saw the head, - when she was in bed in Hanover Square, in the autumn of 1823. She - rushed for refuge to her mother's room, where she remained all - night. Lady Grey desired her on no account to mention what she had - seen to her father. But a fortnight later Lord Grey came into the - room where Lady Georgiana was sitting with her mother and sister, - much agitated, saying that he had just seen a head roll towards - him." - - - "_Ripley Castle, August 30._--The old Ladies Ruthven and Belhaven - came to-day. They appear to have spent their lives in an atmosphere - of dukes, but are very simple great ladies, chiefly interested by - art and artists, and draw well themselves. Lady Belhaven is allowed - by her husband to be with her sister now because of the odd illness - of the latter, an invincible sleeplessness, which makes her very - peculiar, and gives her a habit of talking to herself in a low - murmur, however many people are around her. Rather to my alarm, I - had to take her in to dinner, and as she is very deaf, to talk to - her the whole time at the pitch of my voice; but we got on very - well notwithstanding, so well indeed, that before the fish had been - taken away she had asked me to come to stay with her at her castle - in Scotland. As soon as dinner was over she made me bring my - portfolio and sit the whole evening talking to her about my - drawings. However, I was very glad of it, as, when she went to - bed, she said, 'I have been so very happy this evening.' - - - "_September 1._--Saturday was a dismally wet day. We sat in the oak - parlour, drew, and told stories. Lady Ruthven has lived many years - at Athens, and four years--winter and summer--at Rome, and in - summer used to study 'Roma Adombrata,' which taught her how to walk - in the shade. On Sundays she invited all the artists, who never - went to church, to her house, and 'read them a sermon, poor things, - for the good of their souls.' - - "She used when at Rome to go to 'La toilette des pieds' of Pauline - Borghese. Regular invitations were issued for it. When the guests - arrived, they found the Princess--supremely lovely--with her - beautiful little white feet exposed upon a velvet cushion. Then two - or three maids came in, and touched the feet with a sponge and - dusted them with a little powder--'ç'était la toilette des pieds.' - The Duke of Hamilton used to take up one of the little feet and put - it inside his waistcoat 'like a little bird.' ... Lady Ruthven and - all her household are still wearing mourning for Lord Ruthven, who - died seven years ago. - - "The people here are full of quaint character, especially two - brothers 'Johnny and Jacky.' Said Johnny to Jacky the other day, - 'I've found a saxpence.'--'That's moine,' said Jacky, 'for I've - lost un.'--'Had thoine a haule in it?' said Johnny.--'Ees,' said - Jacky.--'Then this ain't thoine,' said Johnny, 'for there's na - haule in't.' - - "Mrs. Ingilby herself is perfection--so refined and agreeable. No - one would believe, when they see how admirably and unaffectedly she - manages the castle and £20,000 a year, that seven years ago she and - her husband lived in a Lincolnshire cottage with only £300 a year - of income. - - "Lady Georgiana Grey told me a curious story of some friends of - hers. - - "Lady Pennyman and her daughters took a house at Lille. The day - after they arrived they went to order some things from a warehouse - in the town, and gave their address. 'What,' said the man, 'are you - living there, ma'am? Did I not misunderstand you?'--'Yes,' said - Lady Pennyman, 'that is where I live. Is there anything against the - place?' - - "'Oh dear, no, ma'am,' said the warehouseman; 'only the house has - been for a long time without being let, because they say it's - haunted.' Going home, Lady Pennyman laughed to her daughters, and - said, 'Well, we shall see if the ghost will frighten _us_ away.' - - "But the next morning Lady Pennyman's maid came to her and said, - 'If you please, ma'am, Mrs. Crowder and me must change our rooms. - We can't remain where we are, ma'am; it's quite impossible. The - ghost, he makes such a noise over our heads, we can get no sleep at - all.'--'Well, you can change your room,' said Lady Pennyman; 'but - what is there over your room where you sleep? I will go and see;' - and she found a very long gallery, quite empty except for a huge - iron cage, in which it was evident that a human being had been - confined. - - "A few days after, a friend, a lady living in Lille, came to dine - with them. She was a very strong-minded person, and when she heard - of the servants' alarm, she said, 'Oh, Lady Pennyman, do let me - sleep in that room; I shall not be frightened, and if I sleep - there, perhaps the ghost will be laid.' So she sent away her - carriage and stayed; but the next morning she came down quite pale - and haggard, and said certainly she had seen the figure of a young - man in a dressing-gown standing opposite her bed, and yet the door - was locked, and there could have been no real person there. A few - days afterwards, towards evening, Lady Pennyman said to her - daughter, 'Bessie, just go up and fetch the shawl which I left in - my room.' Bessie went, and came down saying that as she went up she - saw the figure of a young man in a dressing-gown standing on the - flight of stairs opposite to her. - - "One more attempt at explanation was made. A sailor son, just come - from sea, was put to sleep in the room. When he came down in the - morning, he was quite angry, and said, 'What did you think I was - going to be up to, mother, that you had me watched? Why did you - send that fellow in the dressing-gown to look after me?' The next - day the Pennymans left the house. - - "Lady Georgiana also told me:-- - - "There was once a Bishop Thomas.[214] His mother one day awoke, - having dreamt that her husband had fought a duel and was killed. - She was much frightened by her dream, and, having great influence - over her husband, she persuaded him not to go out that day as - usual, but to stay at home with her. They lived in Spring Gardens, - and having stayed in all day, towards four o'clock Mr. Thomas began - to repine, and to wish to go out and walk in the Park. Mrs. Thomas - assented on condition of going with him, and they walked in the - Park and enjoyed it very much. While they were out, they met an old - Indian friend of Mr. Thomas, whom he had not seen for years, and - was delighted to meet. They talked over old times and scenes with - great avidity, and at last Mr. Thomas said that he would see his - old friend back to his hotel. Mrs. Thomas, being tired, begged to - be left at her own house on the way. - - "Mrs. Thomas waited long for her husband's return. At last she - heard a sound of many footsteps coming down the street, and a voice - asking which was Mrs. Thomas's house. She rushed down saying, 'You - need not tell me; I know what has happened,' and she found her - dream realised. Mr. Thomas had gone back to the hotel with his - friend. According to the custom of that time, they drank a good - deal together: they quarrelled over their wine, they fought, and - Mr. Thomas was killed. The child that was born afterwards was - Bishop Thomas." - - "_Middleton in Teesdale, Sept. 3._--Yesterday I went with the party - at Ripley to Brimham Rocks, a most curious place--the rocks - clustered in groups of enormous and fantastic forms on the very top - of the Yorkshire range, and with a splendid view over the country, - even York Minster appearing in the hazy distance. - - "I slept at Barnard Castle last night, and set out at eight this - morning for the Fells. It was gloomy and dismal, with mists - gathering black over the distance, and constant rain falling; but - there was no alternative. The valley of Upper Teesdale is in some - ways like a valley in the Alps, the glaringly white farmhouses - scattered thinly over the brilliantly green meadows, the hedgerows - and trees replaced by low rugged stone walls, 'the Grass of - Parnassus' springing up by the side of all the clear streams. The - people are all 'kin' to one another, and are singularly honest and - truthful. 'They are all sincere men in these parts,' said the - guide, 'and if they tell you a tale, you may know it's because - they're deceived.' We met a man on a horse. 'What a long cloak that - man has,' I said. 'Yes,' answered the driver, 'but he's a good man - and a just, and he fears God rather than men.' - - "The High Force is a truly grand waterfall, where the whole river - tosses over a huge precipice in the black basaltic cliff. We left - the gig at a little inn at Langdon Beck, whence we set out on a - weary foot-pilgrimage--a most fatiguing walk of ten miles, over - broken edges of scars, along the torrent-bed, through rushes and - bogs and heather, and across loose slippery shale--all this too in - ceaseless rain and wind, and with the burden of a thick Scotch - cloak. But Cauldron Snout is a very curious waterfall, quite out in - the desolate moorlands, with the Westmorland Fells looming behind - it. I was completely wet through before we got there, and came back - plunging from tuft to tuft of rushes in the boggy moorlands. At - one time we took refuge in a shepherd's hut, where an old shepherd, - with flowing white hair and horn spectacles, was reading the Bible - to his grandchildren--a group like many pictures one has seen. Here - my socks were dipped in hot water and put on again, the - mountaineer's remedy against cold." - - "_Ridley Hall, Sept. 7._--Yesterday Cousin Susan sent me to - Bonnyrigg, Sir Edward Blackett's place in the moors--an enchanting - drive, out of the inhabited country into the purple heather-land, - where the desolate blue Northumbrian lakes lie at the foot of their - huge precipitous crags. Bonnyrigg itself is embosomed in woods, yet - surrounded on all sides by rock and moorland, and with a delightful - view of Greenlea Lough. The Scotts were staying there, and I walked - with the General[215] along the Roman Wall, high on the cliffs and - running from crag to crag, as perfect in its 1600th year as in its - first." - - "_Chesters, Hexham, Sept. 10._--I came here yesterday. My aged - hostess, the eldest sister of the Newcastle Clayton family, is of a - most tall, weird figure, and speaks in an abrupt, energetic, - startling manner, but she is the most perfect _lady_ imaginable, - both in feeling and manners, and her kindness and thoughtfulness - and consideration for others make her beloved far and wide. - Chesters is famous for its liberal unostentatious hospitality, and - Miss Clayton always lives here, though it is her brother's place, - and he resides at Newcastle. She reads everything, and is ready to - talk on any subject, but her great hobby is Roman antiquities, and - she is one of the best antiquarians in the North, which is only as - it should be, as Cilurnum, one of the finest of the Roman stations, - is here in the garden, where there is also a museum of Roman - relics. This house is about the size of Hurstmonceaux Place,[216] - and most thoroughly comfortable, with wide well-lighted galleries - on each storey, filled with water-colour drawings by Richardson, - with Roman antiquities, and curiosities of all kinds. - - "This morning we were called at six, breakfasted at seven, and at - half-past seven in the bright cold morning Miss Clayton herself - drove me down to the train at Chollerford. A delightful journey - brought me to Kielder, where, under the heather-clad hills, close - to the Scottish Border, is the Duke of Northumberland's favourite - castle and the scene of the beautiful ballad of the 'Cout of - Kielder.' I wandered through the valley:-- - - "Up to 'the bonny brae, the green, - Yet sacred to the brave; - Where still, of ancient size, is seen - Gigantic Kielder's grave. - - 'Where weeps the birch with branches green - Without the holy ground, - Between two old grey stones is seen - The warrior's ridgy mound.' - - Coming back, I left the train at Bellingham, and walked to - Hesleyside, the fine place of the Roman Catholic Charltons, where - the celebrated Charlton spur is preserved, which the lady of the - house, in time of Border raids, used to serve up at dinner whenever - she wished to indicate that her larder needed replenishing." - - - "_Chesters, Sept. 13._--On Thursday Miss Clayton drove me in her - Irish car up North Tyne to Chipchase Castle, a noble old Jacobean - house on a height, with a Norman tower, and afterwards to Simonburn - and Tecket Lynn--a most picturesque waterfall through fern-fringed - rocks; a very artistic 'subject,' too little known. Mr. John - Clayton and Dr. Bruce arrived in the evening, and Roman antiquities - became the order of the next day. We set off in a hurricane of cold - wind, in the Irish car, along the Roman Wall, and spent the whole - day amongst Roman remains, lunching at Hotbank Farm, where the - Armstrongs live--last relics of the great mosstrooping - family--inspiring a sort of clannish attachment still, as, when the - last farmer died in 1859, two hundred mounted Borderers escorted - him across the moorland to his grave. - - "The great Roman station of Housesteads (Borcovicus) is a perfect - English Pompeii of excavated houses and streets. Hence we clambered - across stone walls and bogs for several miles to Sewing Shields, - where Arthur and Guinevere and all their knights lie asleep in a - basaltic cavern.... The Claytons are indescribably kind, and spare - no pains to amuse, interest, and instruct me, and their horses seem - as untirable." - - - "_Chesters, Sept. 15._--I am becoming increasingly attached to - 'Aunt Saily,' who is always finding out all the good she can in her - neighbours and guests, and doing everything possible to make the - world bright and pleasant to them: being really so loving and - gentle herself, she influences all around her. On Saturday she took - me to Houghton Castle, one of the most perfect inhabited feudal - fortresses in the county; and to-day to Fallowfield, where there is - a Roman inscription on a grey rock--'the Written Rock'--in the - moorland." - - - "_Otterburn, Sept. 18._--I left the train at Bellingham, where I - found no further means of locomotion except a huge chariot with two - horses. So, after going on a vain search for a cart to all the - neighbouring farmhouses, I was obliged to engage it; but then there - was another difficulty, for the key of the coach-house was lost, - and I had to wait an hour till a smith could be brought to break it - open. At length I set off in the great lumbering vehicle across the - roughest moorland road imaginable--mere blocks of stone, scarcely - chipped at all, with gates at every turn, over hideous barren - moorland, no heather, only dead moss and blackened rushes and fern. - It was like the drive in 'Rob Roy.' At last, in the gloaming, we - drove over a rude bridge and up to this gothic castle, with - terraces in front sloping down to the sullen Reedwater and barren - deserted Fells. My host, Mr. James, has nine sons, of whom the two - youngest, Charlie and Christie, are here now, and scamper on two - little ponies all over the country. The whole family are inclined - to abundant rude hospitality, and delight to entice visitors into - these deserts. They have taken me to Elsdon, a curious desolate - village in the hills, where the Baillies are rectors, and live in a - dismal old castle, built to fortify the rector in mosstrooping - times. It is a place quite out of the world, so very high up, that - the coming of any chance stranger is quite an event: its people - live entirely by keeping sheep and rearing geese in large flocks." - - - "_Matfen, Sept. 20._--We had a very long excursion from Otterburn - on Thursday. In these high moorlands, thirty-five miles is thought - nothing extraordinary, and we drove in a brilliant morning all up - the course of the Reedwater, through rocky valleys and relics of - ancient forest, and by the Roman station of High Rochester to the - Scottish border, upon the famous Reedswire. Here we carried our - baskets up the hills and picnicked just inside Scotland, looking - over the Lammermoor Hills and the valley of Jedburgh to Edinburgh - far in the hazy distance. I long for my mother in all these - moorland scenes--such feasts of beauty to mind and eye. The next - morning we walked to Troughend, the grim haunted house of the - Border hero Percy Reed.[217] Then I went with 'Christie' to Percy's - Cross, where Percy fell in the battle of Chevy Chase, and - Witherington fought upon his stumps.[218] Altogether it is an - enchanting neighbourhood, full of ballads and traditions.... I much - enjoy, however, the comparative rest at Matfen, nine or ten hours - being the least time I was out any day at Chesters or Otterburn. - Lady Blackett has been telling me a very curious story--from her - personal knowledge. - - "Mrs. Bulman went up from Northumberland to London, taking her - little child with her. The evening after she arrived at her London - house, she had occasion to go downstairs, and at the foot of the - stairs passed a man talking to her maid; at that time she happened - to have a bank-note in her hand. Afterwards she went upstairs - again, and put her child to bed. In a little while she went up to - see if it was comfortable. When she went into the room, the child - was in bed, but appeared to be in rather an excited state, and - said, 'Mama, I feel quite sure that there is somebody under the - bed.' Mrs. Bulman said, 'Nonsense, my dear; there is nothing of the - kind: only you are over-tired; so go to sleep, and do not think of - anything else foolish;' and she went downstairs. - - "I don't know what the child did then, but when Mrs. Bulman went up - again, there was no one under the bed, but the window was open, and - the lock of the desk on the table had been tried. - - "Many years afterwards, Mrs. Bulman had occasion to visit a London - prison. When she was going away, the governor came to her and said - that there was a man there who was under sentence of death, and - that he could not account for it, but, having seen Mrs. Bulman pass - as she went into the prison, he was exceedingly importunate to be - allowed to speak to her, if it were only for a moment. 'Well,' said - Mrs. Bulman, 'if it will be any comfort to the poor man, I am sure - I shall be very glad to speak to him,' and she went to his cell. - She did not recollect ever having seen the man before, but he said - that as he was so soon to go into another world, it could not - matter to him what he confessed now, and that he thought it might - be some satisfaction to her to know what a very narrow escape she - had once had of her life. - - "He said he was in the house talking to her maid, having gone in to - visit one of her servants, when she came downstairs with the - bank-note in her hand, and that he could not say what tempted him, - but that he had seized a knife and hidden himself behind a door - till she passed on her way upstairs again. Then he found his way to - her room and concealed himself under her bed. There he had heard - her come in and put the child to bed and leave it, and then, amazed - at the strangeness of his situation, he turned round. She came - back, and he heard the child tell her that there was a man under - the bed, and if at that moment she had looked under, he should have - sprung out and murdered her. She did not, and afterwards hearing a - noise downstairs, he thought it was better to make his escape, - which he did by the window, leaving it open behind him." - - - "_Wallington, Sept. 24._--On the way here I stopped to see Belsay, - the finest of the Border fortresses, a grand old gothic tower, - standing in a beautiful garden and amongst fine trees. - - "Opening from the enclosed courtyard, which now forms a great - frescoed hall in the centre of this house of Wallington, are - endless suites of huge rooms, only partly carpeted and thinly - furnished with ugly last-century furniture, partly covered with - faded tapestry. The last of these is 'the ghost-room,' and - Wallington is still a haunted house: awful noises are heard all - through the night; footsteps rush up and down the untrodden - passages; wings flap and beat against the windows; bodiless people - unpack and put away their things all night long, and invisible - beings are felt to breathe over you as you lie in bed. I think my - room quite horrid, and it opens into a long suite of desolate rooms - by a door which has no fastening, so I have pushed the heavy - dressing-table with its weighty mirror, &c., against it to keep out - all the nasty things that might try to come in. Old Lady Trevelyan - was a very wicked woman and a miser: she lived here for many years, - and is believed to wander here still: her son, Sir Walter, has - never been known to laugh. - - "Sir Walter is a strange-looking being, with long hair and - moustache, and an odd careless dress. He also has the reputation of - being a miser.[219] He is a great teetotaller, and inveighs - everywhere against wine and beer: I trembled as I ran the gauntlet - of public opinion yesterday in accepting a glass of sherry. Lady - Trevelyan is a great artist. She is a pleasant, bright little - woman, with sparkling black eyes, who paints beautifully, is - intimately acquainted with all the principal artists, imports - baskets from Madeira and lace from Honiton, and sells them in - Northumberland, and always sits upon the rug by preference. - - "There is another strange being in the house. It is Mr. Wooster, - who came to arrange the collection of shells four years ago, and - has never gone away. He looks like a church-brass incarnated, and - turns up his eyes when he speaks to you, till you see nothing but - the whites. He also has a long trailing moustache, and in all - things imitates, but caricatures, Sir Walter. What he does here - nobody seems to know; the Trevelyans say he puts the shells to - rights, but the shells cannot take four years to dust." - - - "_Sept. 26._--Such a curious place this is! and such curious - people! I get on better with them now, and even Sir Walter is - gruffly kind and grumpily amiable. As to information, he is a - perfect mine, and he knows every book and ballad that ever was - written, every story of local interest that ever was told, and - every flower and fossil that ever was found--besides the - great-grandfathers and great-grandmothers of everybody dead or - alive. His conversation is so curious that I follow him about - everywhere, and take notes under his nose, which he does not seem - to mind in the least, but only says something more quaint and - astonishing the next minute. Lady Trevelyan is equally unusual. She - is abrupt to a degree, and contradicts everything. Her little black - eyes twinkle with mirth all day long, though she says she is ill - and has 'the most extraordinary _feels_;' she is 'sure no one ever - had such extraordinary feels as she has.' She never appears to - attend to her house a bit, which is like the great desert with one - or two little oases in it, where by good management you may - possibly make yourself comfortable. She paints foxgloves in fresco - and makes little sketches à la Ruskin in the tiniest of - books--chiefly of pollard willows, which she declares are the most - beautiful things in nature. To see pollard willows in perfection - she spent six weeks last spring in the flattest parts of Holland, - and thought it lovely--'the willows so fine and the boat-life so - healthy.' 'Well, you _will_ go to the bad,' she said to me - yesterday, because I did not admire a miserable little drawing of - Ruskin: my own sketches she thinks quite monstrous. - - "We went the day before yesterday to Capheaton, the home of the - Swinburnes, a very curious old house, and Sir John Swinburne, a - very pleasing young miser, is coming to dinner to-day. Yesterday we - went through fog and rain to Camphoe, Kirk Whelpington, and Little - Harle, a fine inhabited castle. Sir Walter made me wade through the - Wansbeck as we came back!" - - - "_Sept. 28._--The more one knows Sir Walter and Lady Trevelyan, the - more one finds how, through all their peculiarities, they are to be - liked and respected. Everything either of them says is worth - hearing, and they are so full of information of every kind, that - the time here has been all too short for hearing them talk.[220] On - Thursday, Miss Ogle, the authoress of that charming novel 'A Lost - Love,' came. She has lived here a great deal, and says the - Wallington ghost is a lady with her head under her arm, who walks - about at night. She has heard all the extraordinary rappings very - often, and says they cannot be accounted for in any way, but she - has never seen the lady. - - "The library here is delightful, full of old topographical books - and pamphlets; and sleek Mr. Wooster, with whites of his eyes - turned up to the skies, is always at hand to find for you anything - you want. - - "On Friday Sir Walter took me a long drive through the beautiful - forest-land called the Trench, and by Rothley Crags to - Netherwitton, where the Raleigh Trevelyans live. Mrs. Raleigh - Trevelyan, a stately and beautiful old lady, is the direct - descendant of the Witherington who fought upon his stumps. She has - pictures of Lord Derwentwater and his brother, and one of her - ancestors concealed Simon, Lord Lovat, in his house for months: the - closet where he was hidden is still to be seen, and very curious. - Then we went to Long Witton, to Mrs. Spencer Trevelyan, a great - botanist and eccentric person, who breakfasts at six, dines at - twelve, teas at four, and goes to bed at seven o'clock. - - "Yesterday Miss Ogle and I went to Harnham, where Mrs. Catherine - Babington, a famous Puritan lady who was excommunicated, is buried - in the rock; to Shortflat Tower, the old peel castle of the Dents; - and to the Poind and his Man, Druidical antiquities, and Shaftoe - Crag, a beautiful wild cliff overgrown with heather. The country - round this is singularly interesting--the view from the church - (Cambo), where we have just been, quite beautiful over the endless - waves of distant hill." - - [Illustration: WARKWORTH, FROM THE COQUET.] - - "_Warkworth, Oct. 2._--My mother will like to think of me with the - Clutterbucks in this charming sunny old house, the most perfect - contrast to Wellington; but if Sir Walter saw his house papered and - furnished like those of other people's, he would certainly pine - away from excess of luxury. I have spent two days with the Ogles, - whom we have often met abroad, with their dark handsome - daughters--dark, people say, because their grandmother was a - Spaniard. They are proud of their supposed Spanish blood, and when - Isabel Ogle married George Clayton, all her sisters followed in - long _black_ lace veils. Near their modern house is the old moated - family castle of Ogle." - - - "_St. Michael's Vicarage, Alnwick, Oct. 4._--I have been kindly - received here by the Court Granvilles: he is a fiery, impetuous - little man; she (Lady Charlotte) a sister of the Duke of Athole. - The Duke of Northumberland sent for me to his hot room at the - castle, where he sits almost immovable, fingers and toes swollen - with gout, and talked a great deal about the importance of my work, - the difficulty of getting accurate information, &c.; but I do not - think he heard a word that I said in reply, for when he has the - gout he is almost quite deaf. Then he sent for the Duchess, who - good-naturedly knotted her pocket-handkerchief round her throat, - and went through all the rooms to show me the pictures. We went - again to dinner--only Sir Cresswell Cresswell, the famous judge, - there, and Lady Alvanley, sister of the Duke of Cleveland. Sir - Cresswell was most amusing in describing how, when a lady was being - conveyed in a sedan-chair to a party at Northumberland House, the - bottom fell out, and, as she shouted in vain to make her bearers - hear, she was obliged to run as fast as she could all the way - through the mire inside the shell of the chair." - - - "_Blenkinsopp Castle, Oct. 11._--This is the castellated house of - the Coulsons, in the upper part of South Tyne Valley--very large - and comfortable. The owner, Colonel Coulson, is a great invalid, - and his daughter-in-law, a daughter of Lord Byron, does the - honours. We have made pleasant excursions to Gilsland Spa, and to - Llanercost and Naworth, the latter--externally a magnificent feudal - castle--the home of Belted Will Howard in mosstrooping times." - - - "_Bamborough Castle, Oct. 17._--How enchanting it is in this grand - old castle looking out on the sea, with all the Farne Islands - stretched out as on a map. I think even the Mediterranean is - scarcely such a beautiful sea as this, the waves are so enormous - and have such gorgeous colouring. I have had delightful walks with - the dear old cousin on the sands, and to Spindleston, where the - famous dragon lived." - - - "_Winton Castle, Tranent, Oct. 17, Evening._--As my mother will - see, I have come here for holidays, and shall be glad of a day or - two in which the mind is not kept in perpetual tension. I heard - from Lady Ruthven that I was to meet Lord Belhaven at Prestonpans - station, and had no doubt which was he--an old gentleman in a white - hat with white hair and hooked nose. We drove here together, and - very pleasant it was to exchange the pouring rain without for the - large, low, old-fashioned drawing-room, with a splendid ceiling and - sculptured chimney, thick Indian carpets, and fine old pictures and - china. Soon Lady Ruthven and Lady Belhaven came in, calling out - 'welcome' as they entered the room. The other guests are Lady - Arthur Lennox and her youngest daughter, who looks, as Lady Ruthven - says, 'just like a Watteau;' also Lord Leven, cousin of our - hostess, and Miss Fletcher of Saltoun." - - [Illustration: WINTON CASTLE.] - - "_Winton Castle, Oct. 20._--When I awoke on Saturday, I was - surprised to see a fine old tower opposite my windows, with high - turrets and richly-carved chimneys and windows; but the castle has - been miserably added to. Lady Ruthven is most original, with a - wonderfully poetical mind, and is very different from her - regal-looking sister, Lady Belhaven, who, still very handsome, - sweeps about the long rooms, and for whom 'gracious' is the only - befitting expression. All the guests are pushed together by Lady - Ruthven in a way which makes it impossible that they should not be - intimate. For instance, as we went in to breakfast on Saturday, she - said, 'Now, Mr. Hare, you are to sit next to Lord Leven, for you - will not see any more of him; so mind you devote yourselves to one - another all breakfast time.' - - "On Saturday we all went to luncheon at Saltoun, the great place of - the neighbourhood, where Mr. Fletcher lives, whose wife, Lady - Charlotte, is one of Lady Ruthven's nieces. It is a large, stately, - modern castle, containing a fine library and curious MSS. The - tables were loaded with 'loot' from the Summer Palace in China. - - "Yesterday we all went at twelve o'clock to the Presbyterian church - at Pencaitland, one of the oldest in Scotland. The singing was - beautiful, and we had an admirable sermon from the minister, Mr. - Rioch, who came in the evening and made a very long 'exposition' to - the servants." - - - "_Oct. 21._--The Mount-Edgecumbes and I went to-day with Lady - Ruthven to Gosford--her nephew Lord Wemyss's place, near the sea. I - walked for some time in the shrubberies with Lady Mount-Edgecumbe, - till we were sent for into the house. There we found old Lady - Wemyss with her daughter, Lady Louisa Wells, and her - daughter-in-law, Lady Elcho. The last is a celebrated beauty, and - has been celebrated also for fulfilling the part of 'Justice' in a - famous tableau. In ordinary life she is perfectly statuesque, with - a frigid manner. She was very kind, however, and took us over the - house, full of works of art, of which we had not time to see a - tenth part, but there is a grand Pordenone." - - - "_North Berwick, Oct. 23._--It has been charming to be here again - with dear Mrs. Dalzel.... What a quaint place it is. Formerly every - one who lived in North Berwick was a Dalrymple: there were nine - families of Dalrymples, and seventeen Miss Dalrymples, old maids: - the only street in the town was Quality Street, and all its houses - were occupied by Dalrymples. North Berwick supported itself - formerly upon its herring-fishery, and it is sadly conducive to - strict Sabbatarianism that the herrings have totally disappeared, - and the place become poverty-stricken, since an occasion in the - spring when the fishers went out on a Sunday." - - - "_Kings Meadows, Oct. 25._--This comfortable house of kind old Sir - Adam Hay is close to Peebles. 'As quiet as Peebles or the grave,' - is a proverb. The Baillie, however, does not think so. He went to - Paris, and when he came back, all his neighbours were longing to - know his impressions. 'Eh, it's just a grand place, but Peebles for - pleasure,' he said. Ultra-Sabbatarianism reigns supreme. An old - woman's son whistled on a Sunday. 'Eh, I could just put up wi' a - wee swearing, but I canna thole whistling on the Sabbath,' she - lamented. Another woman, being invited to have some more at a - dinner given to some of the poor, answered, 'No, thank ye, mum, I - won't have any more, mum; the sufficiency that I have had is enough - for me.'" - - - "_Wishaw House, Motherwell, Oct. 27._--When I came here, I found - Lord and Lady Belhaven alone, but a large party arrived soon - afterwards, who have since been admirably shaken together by their - hostess. The place is almost in the Black Country, but is charming - nevertheless. A rushing river, the Calder, dashes through the rocky - glen below the castle, under a tall ivy-covered bridge, and through - woods now perfectly gorgeous with the crimson and golden tints of - autumn. Above, on either side, are hanging walks, and in the depth - of the glen an old-fashioned garden with a stone fountain, clipped - yew-trees, and long straight grass walks. - - "We have been taken to Brainscleugh, a wonderful little place - belonging to Lady Ruthven--a sort of Louis XIV. villa, overhanging - the river Avon by a series of quaint terraces, with moss-grown - staircases and fountains--more like something at Albano than in - Scotland. Miss Melita Ponsonby, Sir Charles Cuffe, and I walked on - hence to the old Hamilton Chase, full of oaks which have stood - there since the Conquest, and part of the forest which once - extended across Scotland from one sea to the other. It poured with - rain, but we reached the place where the eighty wild milk-white - cattle were feeding together. Then we pursued the rest of the party - to Hamilton Palace, which is like a monster London house--Belgrave - Square covered in and brought into the country. There are endless - pictures, amongst them an awful representation of Daniel in an - agony of prayer in the lions' den. 'It is no wonder the lions were - afraid of him,' the Duchess of Hamilton overheard one of the crowd - say as they were being shown round. In the park is a huge domed - edifice something like the tomb of Theodoric at Ravenna. It was - erected by the last Duke for himself, his son, grandson, and his - nine predecessors. 'What a grand sight it will be,' he said, 'when - twelve Dukes of Hamilton rise together here at the Resurrection!' - He lies himself just under the dome, upon a pavement of coloured - marbles and inside the sarcophagus of an Egyptian queen, with _her_ - image painted and sculptured outside. He had this sarcophagus - brought from Thebes, and used frequently to lie down in it to see - how it fitted. It is made of Egyptian syenite, the hardest of all - stones, and could not be altered; but when dying he was so haunted - by the idea that his body might be too long to go inside the queen, - that his last words were, 'Double me up! double me up!' The last - drive he took had been to buy spices for his own embalming. After - he was dead, no amount of doubling could get him into the - mummy-case, and they had to cut off his feet to do it![221] The - mausoleum is a most strange place, and as you enter mysterious - voices seem to be whispering and clamouring together in the height - of the dome; and when the door bangs, it is as if all the demons in - the Inferno were let loose, and the shriekings and screamings - around you are perfectly terrific. Beneath lie all the house of - Hamilton in their crimson coffins, which you survey by the light of - a single tallow candle. - - "Yesterday I went to Dalzell, the old fortified house of the - Hamiltons, and we have also been taken to the Falls of the Clyde at - Stonebyres, which were magnificent, the river tossing wildly - through woods which now have all the gorgeous colouring of an - Indian autumn." - - - "_Ford Cottage, Nov. 5._--This is a charming little house, nestling - at the foot of the castle-hill, and it has been an amusement to - Lady Waterford to fit it up temporarily with the most interesting - contents of the castle. The walls are hung with beautiful pictures - and the rooms furnished with ivory and ebony cabinets, quantities - of old china, tall glasses piled with ferns and flowers, - old-fashioned tables and deep velvet arm-chairs. She will be here - for another year probably, and thoroughly enjoys the life, saying - that she never knew what it was to have a garden before. - - "Dear old Lady Stuart is here in her deep mourning, and Lady - Waterford, now her only remaining child, has been more closely - united to her mother than ever since Lady Canning's death.[222] - - "Lady Waterford is indeed perfectly delightful--brimming with - originality and enthusiasm, and with the power--which so few people - have--of putting all her wonderfully poetical thoughts into words, - and so letting others have the benefit of them. Sometimes she will - sit down to the pianoforte and sing in the most thrilling - way--Handel or Beethoven, or old Spanish ballads--without having - the music or words before her. At others she will draw, suddenly - and at once, the beautiful inspirations which come to her. Last - night it was a lovely child crowned and sporting with flowers, and - four other sweet little maidens dancing round her with garlands; it - was from the childhood of Mary Queen of Scots and her four Maries. - She is never tired of hearing of _people_; she says she sees so few - and knows so little of them now--_places_ she does not care to hear - about. - -[Illustration: THE CHEVIOTS, FROM FORD.[223]] - - "In the afternoon we went up to the castle, which is entirely - changed since I saw it last, having gone back from a gingerbread - gothic house to the appearance of an ancient building. The - drawing-room is beautiful, with its ceiling and ornaments copied - from that at Winton. Lord Durham was drilling his volunteer corps - before the castle, and a mock siege was got up, with a storming of - the new bridge over the dene. Then we walked to a new lodge which - is building. All around are improvements--church restored, schools - built, cottages renewed, gardens made, and then the castle." - - - "_Nov. 5_ (_Evening_).--The hard frost last night preluded a bright - beautiful day. Lady Waterford let me have the pony-carriage with - two white ponies to go where I liked, and I went to a ruined peel - at Howtell Grange, and then through hollows in the Cheviots to - Kirk-Newton, where Paulinus baptized his Northumbrian converts. - 'Oh! if my Lady were only here, for it is quite lovely!' exclaimed - the coachman, as we turned the corner of the mountains. He told me - about Lord Waterford's death, how he was riding by his side over - the mountain when his horse stumbled. He got up safely, and then - somehow overbalanced himself and fell from the saddle upon his - head. They could not believe that he was hurt at first, for he lay - in his hunting-coat quite unbruised and beautiful; but when they - raised him up, his head fell down, for his neck was broken and he - was dead. 'Then there was an awful wail,' said the man, 'though we - could none of us believe it. Dr. Jephson rode on to break it to my - Lady, and he met her driving her two white ponies up to the door, - all gay and happy, and told her at first that my Lord had broken - his thigh-bone and was very much hurt; but she saw by his face that - it was worse than that, and said so, and he could not speak to her. - Then she went away to her own room and locked herself in. When my - Lord had been brought home and night came on, she ordered every one - away from her, and she looked on his face once more, but what my - Lady did that night we none of us knew.' - - "She cannot bear a horse now: she has only this little - pony-carriage. - - "This afternoon I have been with her to her school. She is covering - it with large pictures which have the effect of frescoes. All the - subjects are Bible stories from the lives of good children. In the - first, of Cain and Abel, the devout Abel is earnestly offering his - sacrifice of the lamb; while careless Cain, attracted by the flight - of some pigeons, looks away and lets his apples fall from the - altar. All the children are portraits, and it was interesting to - see the originals sitting beneath the frescoes, slates and pencils - in hand. - - "It seems to me as if Lady Waterford had become strangely - spiritualised this year since Lady Canning's death. She is just - what she herself describes Miss Boyle to have become, 'A calm - seeker after good, in whatever way she may find it.'" - - - "_Falloden, Nov. 7, 1862._--I have been most kindly received by Sir - George and Lady Grey.... He has the reputation of being the most - agreeable 'gentleman' in England, and certainly is charming, so - cordial and kind and winning in manner.... We have been this - evening to Dunstanborough--most lovely, the tall tower in the - evening light rising rosy-pink against a blue sea." - - - "_Roddam, Nov. 13._--I have been with Mrs. Roddam at Eslington, a - large grey stone house on a terrace, with a French garden and fine - trees. Hedworth Liddell received us, and then his many sisters came - trooping in to luncheon from walking and driving. 'We are sure this - is our cousin Augustus Hare: we saw you through the window, and - were sure it was you, you are so like your sister.' ... They were - much amused at my delight over the portraits of our ancestors." - - - "_Chillingham, Nov. 14._--There is a large party here, including - Captain and Mrs. Northcote, a very handsome, distinguished-looking - young couple, and my hitherto unknown cousins, Lord and Lady - Durham.[224] He has a morose look, which does him great injustice; - she is one of Lord Abercorn's charming daughters--excessively - pretty, natural, and winning." - - - "_Nov. 15._--Each evening we have had impromptu charades, in which - Lord Durham acts capitally. Yesterday we went to a review of his - volunteer corps on Millfield Plain, and afterwards to tea at - Copeland Castle, an old Border fortress on the Till, which the - Durhams are renting. You would be quite fascinated by Lady - Durham--'the little Countess,' as Lady Tankerville calls her. Lord - Durham does not look a bit older than I, though he has seven - children. They have given me a very cordial invitation to stay with - them." - - - "_Morpeth, Nov. 16._--We dispersed yesterday evening. Lord - Tankerville wished me to have stayed, and it was very pleasant at - the end of an enchanting visit to have one's host say, 'I am so - very sorry you are going; and, though the Greys are very nice - people, I quite hate them for taking you away from us.' They sent - me in one carriage, and my luggage in another, to meet the coach at - Lilburn. I had three-quarters of an hour to wait, and took refuge - in a shepherd's hut, where the wife was very busy washing all her - little golden-haired children in tubs, and putting them to sleep in - box-beds." - - - "_Morpeth, Nov. 19._--On Monday I got up in pitch darkness and went - off at half-past seven by coach to Rothbury, a lonely little town - amid moorland hills with sweeping blue distance. There I got a gig, - and went far up Coquetdale to Harbottle, a most interesting - country, full of peel towers and wild rocky valleys. Coming back, I - stopped at Holystone, where a tall cross and an old statue near a - basin of transparent water mark the place where Paulinus baptized - three thousand Northumbrians. Then, in the gloaming, I saw the fine - old Abbey of Brinkburn, close upon the shore of Coquet, celebrated - in many old angling songs. - - "To-day I have been with the Greys to Cresswell, the largest modern - house in the county, with an old peel tower where an ancestress of - the family starved herself to death after seeing her three brothers - murder her Danish lover upon the shore." - - -Several more visits brought me home at the end of November, with an -immense stock of new material, which I arranged in the next few months -in "Murray's Handbook of Durham and Northumberland"--work for which -neither Murray nor any one else gave me much credit, but which cost me -great labour, and into which I put my whole heart. - - - - -XI - -HOME LIFE WITH THE MOTHER - - "Golden years - Of service and of hope swept over us - Most sweetly. Brighter grew our home, more dear - Our daily life together. And as time went by, - God daily joined our hearts more perfectly." - - --B. M. - - "Look at a pious person, man or woman, one in whom the spirit sways - the senses; look at them when they are praying or have risen from - their knees, and see with how bright a ray of divine beauty their - faces are illuminated: you will see the beauty of God shine on - their faces: you will see the beauty of an angel. All those who in - adoring humility partake of the Holy Sacraments are so united to - God that the presence of the divine light is manifest upon their - faces."--SAVONAROLA, _Sermons_. - - "God's in his heaven-- - All's right with the world." - - --BROWNING, _Pippa Passes_. - - -When I returned from the North in the winter of 1862-63, I was shocked -to find how much a failure of power, which I had faintly traced in the -summer, had increased in my dearest mother. But I cannot describe the -unspeakable thankfulness I felt that the work which had taken me so -much away from her during her four years of health was ended just when -she needed me; that it would never be absolutely necessary for me to -leave her again; and I inwardly vowed never again to undertake anything -which should separate me from her. Some work which might be done at home -would doubtless turn up, and meanwhile I had constant employment in the -service and watchings which scarcely ever permitted me to be away from -her side. - -Meanwhile all the sympathy which I had to spare from the sick-room at -home was called forth by the suffering of my sister, who had struggled -bravely under the depression of her mother's ceaseless despair and -wilful refusal to be comforted, but upon whom that struggle was -beginning to tell most severely. My mother allowed me to have her at -Holmhurst a great deal this winter, and she was no trouble, but, on the -contrary, a constant source of interest to my mother, who, while -deprecating the fact of her Roman Catholicism, became full of respect -for her simple faith, large-hearted charity, and reality of true -religion--so different from that of most perverts from the national -faith of England. In her changed fortunes, accustomed to every luxury as -she had been, she would only see the silver linings of all her clouds, -truly and simply responding to Thackeray's advice-- - - "Come wealth or want, come good or ill, - Let young and old accept their part, - And bow before the Awful Will, - And bear it with an honest heart." - -At Christmas my mother suffered terribly, and was so liable to a sudden -numbness which closely threatened paralysis, that by day and night -remedies had always to be prepared and at hand. In the last days of -January she was moved to London, and immediately felt benefited; but the -doctors who then saw my mother agreed with our old friend Dr. Hale at -St. Leonards that it was absolutely necessary that she should go abroad. -This gave rise to terrible anxiety. I remember how then, as on many -other occasions when I was longing to stay at home, but felt certain the -path of duty lay abroad, all my difficulties were enormously added to by -different members of the family insisting that my mother ought to stay -at home, and that I knew it, but "dragged her abroad for my own pleasure -and convenience." This tenfold increased my fatigue when I was already -at the last gasp, by compelling me to argue persistently to misinformed -persons in favour of my convictions, _against_ my wishes. On February -16 we left home, and went by slow stages to Hyères, whence we proceeded -to Nice. - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Pension Rivoir, Nice, March 16, 1863._--We stayed at Hyères ten - days, but did not like the place at all, though it has a tropical - vegetation, and there are pretty corkwoods behind it. The town is a - prolonged village, clouded with dust and reeking with evil - odours.... We took a _vetturino_ from Les Arcs to Cannes, but found - prices there so enormously raised, that we decided on coming on - here. This place also is very full, but we like our tiny apartment, - which has the sea on one side, and a beautiful view across - orange-groves to the snow mountains on the other. The mother - already seems not only better but--quite well! We have found a - great many friends here, including Sir Adam Hay and all his family, - and Lord and Lady Charles Clinton, the latter charming and most - affectionately attentive to the mother." - -[Illustration: CARROZZA.[225]] - -The spring we spent at Nice is one of those I look back upon with the -greatest pleasure--my mother recovered so rapidly and entirely, and was -so pleased herself with her own recovery. The weather was beautiful, and -as I was already in heart looking forward to drawing as the one -lucrative employment which would not separate me from my mother, I -devoted myself to it most enthusiastically, inwardly determined to -struggle to get a power of colour which should distinguish me from the -herd of sketchers and washers, and I made real progress in knowledge and -delicacy. It was the greatest help to me in this, as it was the greatest -pleasure in everything else, to have our dear old friend Lady Grey with -her niece Miss Des Vœux settled close by us, and I constantly drew -and made excursions with them, dining with them afterwards: my only -difficulty being that my mother was then often left alone longer than I -liked, with only Lea as a companion. During the close of our stay I had -some really adventurous expeditions with Miss Des Vœux, Mrs. Robert -Ellice, and Miss Ellice along the bed of the Var and up Mount Chauve and -to Aspromonte; with Miss Des Vœux and the Stepneys to Carrozza and Le -Broc, proceeding with the carriage as far as it would go, and then on -chairs lashed upon a bullock-cart--the scenery most magnificent; and -with a larger party to the glorious Peglione. - -Addie Hay was often the companion of our excursions, and deeply attached -himself to the mother, sitting by us for hours while we drew at -Villeneuve or other mountain villages. His sister Ida did the honours at -splendid parties which were given by Mr. Peabody the philanthropist, so -I was invited to them. Mr. George Peabody--"Uncle George," as Americans -used to call him--was one of the dullest men in the world: he had -positively no gift except that of making money, and when he was making -it, he never parted with a penny until he had made hundreds of -thousands, and then he gave vast sums away in charity. When he had thus -become quite celebrated, he went back to America, and visited his native -place of Danbury, which is now called Peabody. Here some of his -relations, who were quite poor people, wishing to do him honour, -borrowed a silver tea service from a neighbour. He partook of their -feast, and, when it was over, he looked round and said, "I am agreeably -surprised to find that you are in such very good circumstances as to -want nothing that I could do for you,"--and he did nothing for them. - -There was, however, at least one very interesting story connected with -George Peabody's life. He was going to Berlin for some important -financial meeting, in which he was to take a prominent part. On the way -his carriage broke down, and he was in despair as to how he was to get -on, when a solitary traveller passed in a carriage and offered to take -him up. Soon they began to converse. "I had a remarkably good dinner -to-night," said George Peabody; "guess what it was."--"Well, I guess a -good turkey."--"Better than that," said Peabody, slapping his companion -on the knee. "Well, a piece of Welsh mutton."--"Better than that," with -another slap; "why, I've had a prime haunch of venison from a Scotch -forest." Soon they were approaching Berlin, and every one saluted the -carriage as it passed. "May I ask to whom I am so much indebted for my -drive?" said Peabody. "Well, guess," said his companion, as they were -passing some soldiers who saluted. "Well, I guess you're a captain in -the army."--"Better than that," said the stranger, slapping Peabody on -the knee. "Well, perhaps you're a general."--"Better than that," with -another slap. "Well, sir, I am--the Crown Prince of Prussia." - -At Mr. Peabody's parties I always used to see the old King Louis of -Bavaria, then a dirty dissipated old man, though Munich will ever bear -witness to the great intelligence he showed in early life. - -At dinner at Lady Grey's I used to meet Dr. Pantaleone, who was then -practising at Nice as a Roman exile. Here are some fragments of his -ever-amusing conversation:-- - - "What is gout, Dr. Pantaleone?" - - "Why, the Clerici Canonici do say it is the divil, and the doctors - do say it is the nerves, and the statesmen do say it is Lord - Palmerston or Lord John Russell, as the case may be!" - - "Have you studied the subject much?" - - "Ah, yes! oh, it is beautiful to follow the gout. But I have felt - it too, for my grandfather he did eat up all his fortune and leave - us the gout, and that is what I do call cheating his heirs!" - - "I have never had gout, but I have had rheumatism." - - "Ah, yes; rheumatism is gout's brother." - - * * * - - "Why is Mr. B. in love with Miss M.?" - - "Why, you see it is an ugly picture, but is beautiful _encadré_. - She has £1500 a year--that is the _cadre_, and the husband will - just step into the frame and throw the old picture into the shade?" - - * * * - - "They seem to be giving up the Bishops in Piedmont." - - "Yes, but they must not do it: it is no longer wise. With us all is - habit. We have now even been excommunicated for three years, and as - we find we do as well or rather better than before, we do not mind - a bit." - - * * * - - "I have often been miserable when I have lost a patient, and then I - have cursed myself for wasting my time and sympathy when I have - seen that the relations did not mind. It is always thus. Thus it - was in that dreadful time when the Borghese lost his wife and three - children. I was so grieved I could not go near the Prince. Some - days afterwards I met him in the garden. 'Oh, M. le Prince,' I - said, 'how I have felt for you!'--'Dr. Pantaleone,' he replied, 'if - I could have them back again now I would not, for it was the will - of God, and now I know that they are happy.' Then I did curse - myself. 'Ah, yes, you are quite right, M. le Prince,' I said, and I - did go away, and I never did offer condolences any more." - - * * * - - "Do you know Courmayeur?" - - "Yes, that is where our King (Victor Emmanuel) goes when he wants - to hunt. And when Azeglio wants the King back, he writes to his - ministers, 'The tyrant wants to amuse himself,'--because his - enemies do call him the tyrant." - - * * * - - "It is a dreadful thing not to remember. I had a friend once who - married an Italian lady. One day they were at a party, and he went - out in the course of the evening. Nothing was thought of it at the - time; Italians often do go out. At last his wife became - excited--agitated. They tried to calm her, but she thought he had - poséd her there and gone away and left her for ever. She flew home, - and there he was comfortably seated by his fireside. 'Oh, Tommaso, - Tommaso!' she exclaimed. 'Che, che!' he said. 'Oh, why did you - leave me?' she cried. 'Oh,' said he, striking his forehead, 'I did - forget that I was married!'"[226] - - * * * - - "There was a poor woman whose son was dreadfully ill, and she - wanted to get him a doctor; but somehow, instead of going for the - doctor, she fell asleep, and _dreamt_ that her son was ill, and - that she was going for the doctor. She went first (in her dream) to - the house of the first physician in the town, but, when she - arrived, the door was crowded with a number of pale beings, who - were congregating round it, and calling out to those within. So the - woman asked them what they were, and they said, 'We are the - spirits of those who have been killed by the treatment of this - doctor, and we are come to make him our reproaches.' So the woman - was horrified, and hurried away to the house of another doctor, but - there she found even more souls than before; and at each house she - went to, there were more and more souls who complained of the - doctors who had killed them. At last she came to the house of a - very poor little doctor who lived in a cottage in a very narrow - dirty street, and there there were only two souls lamenting. 'Ah!' - she said, 'this is the doctor for me; for while the others have - killed so many, this good man in all the course of his experience - has only sent two souls out of the world.' So she went in and said, - 'Sir, I have come to you because of your experience, because of - your great and just reputation, to ask you to heal my son.' As she - talked of his great reputation the doctor looked rather surprised, - and at last he said, 'Well, madam, it is very flattering, but it is - odd that you should have heard so much of me, for I have only been - a doctor _a week_.' Ah! then you may imagine what the horror of the - woman was--he had only been a doctor a week, and yet he had killed - two persons!... So she awoke, and she did not go for a doctor at - all, and her son got perfectly well." - -[Illustration: ROMAN THEATRE, ARLES.[227]] - -In May we went to spend a week at Mentone, seeing old haunts and old -friends; thence also I went for three days with Lady Grey to S. Remo, -where we drew a great deal, but I did not then greatly admire S. Remo. -We stayed a few days at Arles, where M. and Madame Pinus, the landlord -of the Hôtel du Nord and his wife, had become quite intimate friends by -dint of repeated visits. Each time we stayed at Arles we made some -delightful excursion: this time we went to S. Gilles. Then by a -lingering journey, after our fashion of the mother's well-days, -loitering to see Valence and Rochemaure, we reached Geneva, where we -had much kindly hospitality from the family of the Swiss pasteur -Vaucher, with whose charming daughter we had become great friends at -Mentone two years before. We were afterwards very happy for a fortnight -in the pleasant Pension Baumgarten at Thun, and went in _einspanners_ -in glorious weather to Lauterbrunnen and Grindelwald. On our way north, -we lingered at Troyes, and I also made a most interesting excursion from -Abbeville to St. Riquier and the battlefield of Crecy, where the old -tower from which Edward III. watched the battle still stood,[229] and -the cross where the blind King of Bohemia fell amid the corn-lands. - -[Illustration: HÔTEL DU MAUROY, TROYES.[228]] - -[Illustration: THE KING OF BOHEMIA'S CROSS, CRECY.[230]] - -It was the 9th of June when we reached Holmhurst, and on the 15th I went -to Arthur Stanley's house at Oxford for the Commemoration, at which the -lately married Prince and Princess of Wales were present, she charming -all who met her as much by her simplicity as by her grace and -loveliness. "No more fascinating and lovely creature," said Arthur, -"ever appeared in a fairy-story." Mrs. Gladstone was at the Canonry and -made herself very pleasant to everybody. "Your Princess is so lovely, it -is quite a pleasure to be in the room with her," I heard her say to the -Prince of Wales. "Yes, she really is _very_ pretty," he replied. - -Afterwards I went to stay with Miss Boyle, who had lately been -"revived," and it was a most curious visit. Beautiful still, but very -odd, she often made one think of old Lady Stuart de Rothesay's -description of her--"Fille de Vénus et de Polichinelle." - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Portishead, June 27, 1863._--Miss Boyle is quite brimming with - religion, and, as I expected, entirely engrossed by her works. She - preaches now almost every night. She began a sort of convertive - talking instantly. She asked at once, 'Are you saved?' &c. She - seems to have in everything 'une grande liberté avec Dieu,' as - Madame de Glapion said to Madame de Maintenon. She thinks Arthur an - infidel, and said that there had been a meeting of six thousand - people at Bristol to pray that his influence at Court may be - counteracted. Speaking of this, on the spur of the moment she had - up the servants and prayed for 'our poor Queen, who is in - ignorance of all these things.' Then, at great length, for me, 'Thy - child and servant who is just come into this house.' She said she - had put off her meeting for the next day on my account, but I - begged that she would hold it, even though the bills were not sent - out. - - "On Friday she did not appear till one. We dined at three, and then - an 'Evangelist' came in, who also asked at once 'if I was saved?' - and then knelt down and made a long prayer, 'O God, I thank Thee - that I am a saved sinner,' with a sort of litany of 'Yes, bless the - Lord,' from Miss Boyle. Then I was prayed for again: it felt very - odd. - - "Then we went off in a fly, with one of the maids and another - Evangelist called Mr. Grub, a long drive through a series of - country lanes to solitary farmhouses amongst the hills. It was like - the description in 'The Minister's Wooing.' At one of the houses a - young woman came out and said to me that she 'hoped we were one in - Christ.' - - "From a turn of the road I walked down to Pill, the rude town on - the Avon where Miss Boyle preaches almost every evening to the - wharfingers and sailors, nearly two hundred at a time. I saw her - pulpit in the open air close to the river, with the broad reaches - of the Channel and ships sailing in behind it. When she preaches - there it must be a very striking scene. Numbers of people crowded - round to ask--'Isna Lady Boyle a cooming down?'--and all the little - children, 'Is Lady Boyle a cooming? Tell us, Mister, where's Lady - Boyle?' - - "When we returned to the other village, St. George's, Miss Boyle - and her maid were sitting on a well in an old farmhouse garden, - singing beautiful revival hymns to a troop of mothers and little - children, who listened with delight. As the crowd gathered, she - came down, and standing with her back against the fly, beneath some - old trees in the little market-place, addressed the people. Then - Miss Boyle prayed; then the Evangelist preached. Then came some - revival hymns from Dick Weaver's hymn-book. The people joined - eagerly, and the singing was lovely--wild, picturesque choruses, - constantly swelled by new groups dropping in. People came up the - little lanes and alleys, listening and singing. Great waggons and - luggage-vans passing on the highroad kept stopping, and the carters - and drivers joined in the song. At last Miss Boyle herself - preached--most strikingly, and her voice, like a clarion, must have - been audible all over the village. She preached on the ten lepers, - and words never seemed to fail her, but she poured out an unceasing - stream of eloquence, entreating, warning, exhorting, comforting, - and illustrating by anecdotes she had heard and from the - experiences of her own life. The people listened in rapt attention, - but towards the end of her discourse a quantity of guns and - crackers were let off close by by agents of a hostile clergyman - (Vicar of Portbury), and a fiddle interrupted the soft cadences of - the singing. On this she prayed aloud for 'the poor unconverted - clergyman, that God would forgive him,' but when she had done, the - people sang one of Weaver's hymns, 'He is hurrying--he is - hurrying--he is hurrying down to hell.' Some of the clergy uphold - her, others oppose. She has had a regular fight with this one. The - meeting was not over till past nine; sometimes it lasts till - eleven. The people did not seem a bit tired: I was, and very cold." - -I seldom after this saw my old friend, Miss Boyle. I could not press her -coming to Holmhurst, because she forewarned me that, if she came, she -_must_ hold meetings in the village. A sister of John Bright declared, -"I always agree with my old gardener, who says 'I canna abide a crowing -hen';" and latterly I have been of much the same opinion. - -We left home again for Italy on the 26th of October. In those days there -was no railway across the Mont Cenis, but my mother enjoyed the -_vetturino_ journey along the roads fringed with barberries. Beyond -this, travelling became difficult, owing to the floods. At Piacenza we -were all ejected from the train, and forced to walk along the line for a -great distance, and then to cross a ford, which made me most thankful -that my mother was tolerably well at the time. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Nov. 7, 1863._--We left Bologna at 5 A.M. In the journey to - Vergato the colouring was beautiful, the amber and ruby tints of - autumn melting into a sapphire distance. At Vergato we engaged the - coupé of the diligence, and had a pleasant passage over the - Apennines, sometimes with four, sometimes with seven horses in the - ascent. The richness of the autumnal glory was beyond - description--a tossing torrent, rocky moss-grown forests of old - oaks and chestnuts, their leaves golden in death: here and there - thickets of holly and box: an old castle on a rock: a lonely old - town (La Porretta) in a misty hollow: and then a grand view from - the top of the pass over purple billowy mountains. The scenery - becomes suddenly Italian--perfectly Italian--in the descent, - cypresses and stone-pines, villas and towers, cutting the sky and - relieved upon the delicate distance: and in the depth Pistoia, - lying like a map, with dome and towers like a miniature Florence." - -At the station of Ficulle near Orvieto, where the railway to the south -came to an end altogether at that time, the floods were out all over the -country, and there were no carriages--everything being quite -disorganised. We arrived at a miserable little station, scarcely better -than a small open shed, in torrents of rain, at twelve o'clock in the -day, and had to wait till the same hour of the day following, when -carriages would arrive from Orvieto. After some time my mother was -conveyed to a wretched little inn, but it was necessary for some one to -remain to guard the luggage, and knowing what a fearful hardship it -would be considered by our cross-grained man-servant, John Gidman, I -remained sitting upon it, without any food except a few biscuits, in -pitch darkness at night, and with the swelching rain beating upon my -miserable shed, for twenty-four hours. It was a very unpleasant -experience. - -[Illustration: S. FLAVIANO, MONTEFIASCONE.[231]] - -When at length we got away, we had to take the road by Montefiascone and -Viterbo, which was then almost untravelled, and the postboys took -advantage of the utter loneliness of the road and disturbed state of the -country to be most insolent in their demands for money. Sometimes they -would stop altogether in a desolate valley and refuse to let their -horses go an inch farther unless we paid a sort of ransom. On such -occasions we always took out our books and employed ourselves till they -went on from sheer weariness. We were never conquered, but it made the -journey very anxious and fatiguing. - -It was with real thankfulness that we reached Rome on November 12, and -engaged the upper apartment of 31 Piazza di Spagna, our landlady being -the pleasant daughter of Knebel the artist, who lived in some little -rooms above us, with her brother Tito and her nurse Samuccia. - -The first days at Rome this winter were absolute Elysium--the sitting -for hours in the depth of the Forum, then picturesque, flowery, and -"unrestored," watching the sunlight first kiss the edge of the columns -and then bathe them with gold: the wanderings with different friends -over the old mysterious churches on the Aventine and Cœlian, and the -finding out and analysing all their histories from different books at -home in the evenings: the very drives between the high walls, watching -the different effects of light on the broken tufa stones, and the -pellitory and maiden-hair growing between them. - -We were also especially fortunate this winter in our friends. At first I -much enjoyed very long walks with a Mr.[232] and Mrs. Kershaw, who lived -beneath us. Taking little carriages to the gates, we wandered forth to -the Aqueducts and Roma Vecchia, where we spent the day in drawing and -picking up marbles, not returning till the cold night-dews were creeping -up from the valleys, and the peasants, as we reached the crowded street -near the Theatre of Marcellus, were eating their fritture and chestnuts -by lamplight, amid a jargon of harsh tongues and gathering of strange -costumes. - -We saw much of the handsome young Marchese Annibale Paolucci di Calboli, -in the Guardia Nobile, whose wife was an old friend of early -Hurstmonceaux days, and whose children, especially the second son, -Raniero, have always remained friends of mine. This is the family -mentioned by Dante in "Purgatorio," xiv.-- - - "Questo è il Rinier; quest' è il pregio e l'onore - Della casa da Calboli." - -Old Lady Wenlock[233] came to the Hôtel Europa close beside us, and was -a constant pleasure. My mother drove with her frequently. She scarcely -ever said anything that was not worth observing, and her reminiscences -were of the most various kinds. She it was who, by telling my mother of -her own strong wish and that of other people to possess some of my -sketches, first suggested the idea of selling my drawings. We amused -ourselves one evening by putting prices on the backs of sketches of the -winter--highly imaginative prices, as it seemed to us. Some time -afterwards Lady Wenlock had a party, and asked for the loan of my -portfolio to show to her friends: when they came back there were orders -to the amount of £60. - -Other friends of whom we saw much this winter were old Lady Selina -Bridgeman, sister of my mother's dear friend Lady Frances Higginson; and -Lord and Lady Hobart. Lord Hobart was afterwards Governor of Madras, but -at this time he was excessively poor, and they lived in a tiny attic -apartment in the Via Sistina. At many houses we met the long-haired -Franz Liszt, the famous composer, and heard him play. Mr. and Mrs. -Archer Houblon also were people we liked, and we were drawn very near to -them by our common interest in the news which reached us just after our -arrival in Rome of the engagement of Arthur Stanley, just after his -appointment to the Deanery of Westminster, to Lady Augusta Bruce (first -cousin of Mrs. Houblon), the person whom his mother had mentioned as the -one she would most like him to marry. - -A little before Christmas--a Christmas of the old kind, with a grand -Papal benediction from the altar of St. Peter's--Henry Alford, Dean of -Canterbury, and his family came to Rome. With them I went many -delightful expeditions into the distant Campagna: to Ostia, with its -then still gorgeous marbles and melancholy tower and pine; to Castel -Fusano, with its palace, like that of the Sleeping Beauty, rising lovely -from its green lawns, with its pine avenue and decaying vases with -golden-flowered aloes, and beyond all the grand old forest with its deep -green recesses and gigantic pines and bays and ilexes, its deep still -pools and its abysses of wood, bounded on one side by the Campagna, and -on the other by the sea; to Collatia, with its woods of violets and -anemones, and its purling brook and broken tower; to Cerbara, with its -colossal caves and violet banks, and laurustinus waving like angels' -wings through the great rifts; to Veii, with its long circuit of ruins, -its tunnelled Ponte Sodo and its mysterious columbarium and tomb. -Another excursion also lives in my mind, which I took with Harry and -Albert Brassey, when we went out very early to Frascati, and climbed in -the gorgeous early morning to Tusculum, where the little crocuses were -just opening upon the dew-laden turf, and then made our way across hedge -and ditch to Grotta Ferrata and its frescoes. - -[Illustration: OSTIA.[234]] - -I have always found--at Rome especially--that the pleasantest way is to -see very little, and to enjoy that thoroughly. "Je n'avale pas les -plaisirs, je sais les goûter." - -[Illustration: THEATRE OF TUSCULUM.[235]] - -In the spring our sketchings and excursions were frequently shared by -our cousins, Maria and Mary Shaw-Lefevre, who came to Rome with their -maternal aunt, Miss Wright, whom I then saw for the first time, but who -afterwards became the dearest of my friends--a nominal "Aunt Sophy," far -kinder and far more beloved than any real aunt I have ever known. - -But most of all does my remembrance linger upon the many quiet hours -spent alone with the mother during this winter, of an increasing -communion with her upon all subjects, in which she then, being in -perfect health, was able to take an active and energetic interest. - -Especially do I look back to each Sunday afternoon passed in the Medici -Gardens, where she would sit on the sheltered sunny seats backed by the -great box hedges--afternoons when her gentle presence, when the very -thought of her loved existence, made all things sweet and beautiful to -me, recalling Cowper's lines-- - - "When one that holds communion with the skies - Has filled her urn where these pure waters rise, - And once more mingles with us meaner things, - 'Tis e'en as if an angel shook his wings; - Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, - And tells us whence her treasures are supplied." - -These afternoons with the mother are my real Roman memories of -1863-64--not the hot rooms, not the evening crowds, not the ceremonies -at St. Peter's! - -This year I greatly wished something that was not compatible with the -entire devotion of my time and life to my mother. Therefore I smothered -the wish, and the hope that had grown up with it. Those things do -not--cannot--recur. - -One day in the spring, mother and I drove to our favourite spot of the -Acqua Acetosa, and walked in the sun by the muddy Tiber. When we came -back, we found news that Aunt Esther was dead. She had never recovered -a violent cold which she caught when lying for hours, in pouring rain, -upon her husband's grave. Her death was characteristic of her life, for, -with the strongest sense of duty and a determination to carry it out to -the uttermost, no mental constitution can possibly be imagined more -happily constructed for self-torment than hers. My mother grieved for -her loss, and I grieved that my darling had sorrow.... How many years of -heartburnings and privation are buried for ever out of sight in that -grave! _Requiescat in pace._ I believe that I have entirely forgiven all -the years of bitter suffering that she caused me. "He who cannot forgive -others, breaks the bridge over which he must pass himself: for every man -hath need to be forgiven," was a dictum of Lord Herbert of Cherbury. I -believe that I really feel this; still "les morts se prétent aux -réconciliations avec une extrême facilité," as Anatole France says.[236] - -We did not go to many of the services. The most impressive processions -we saw were really those of the bare-footed monks who followed the -funerals, many hundreds of them, each with his lighted candle: we used -to hear their howling chant long before they turned the corner of the -Piazza di Spagna. - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_31 Piazza di Spagna, Rome, Feb. 1864._--Manning is indefatigable - in proselytising. I once went to hear him preach at San Carlo: - anything so _dull_, so wholly unimpassioned, I never heard. There - was a great function at the Minerva the other day as a protest - against Renan. Michelangelo's statue of Christ was raised aloft and - illuminated. A Dominican friar preached, and in the midst of his - sermon shouted, 'Adesso, fratelli miei, una viva per Gesù Cristo!' - and all the congregation shouted 'Viva.' And when he finished, he - cried 'Adesso tre volte viva per Gesù Cristo!' and when they were - given, 'E una viva di più,' just as if it were a toast. The Bambino - of Ara Cœli has broken its toe! It was so angry at the church - door being shut when it returned from its drive, that it kicked the - door till one of its toes came off, and the monks are in sad - disgrace. - - "The old Palace of the Cæsars, as we have always called it, is - being superseded by immense _scavi_, opened by the French Emperor - in the Orti Farnesiani: these have laid bare such quantities of old - buildings and pavements, that the Orti are now like a little - Pompeii." - -We left Rome before Easter, and spent it quietly at Albano, where we had -many delightful days, with first the Hobarts and then the Leghs of -Booths in our hotel, and I made charming excursions up Monte Cavi and -round the lake of Nemi with Alexander Buchanan and the Brasseys. On Good -Friday there was a magnificent procession, the dead and bleeding Christ -carried by night through the streets upon a bier, preceded and attended -by monks and mutes with flaming torches, and followed by a wailing -multitude. In the principal square the procession stopped, the bier was -raised aloft, and while the torchlight flamed upon the livid features of -the dead, a monk called upon the people to bear witness and to account -for his "murder." - -At Sorrento we spent a fortnight at the Villa Nardi, with its quiet -orange-grove and little garden edged with ancient busts overlooking the -sea. At Amalfi, the Alfords joined us. We went together to Ravello. I -remember how the Dean insisted on calling the little dog that went with -us from the inn "Orthodog," and another dog, which chose to join our -company, "Heterodog," on the principle of Dr. Johnson, who explained the -distinction by saying, "Madam, orthodoxy is my doxy, and heterodoxy is -any other person's doxy." - -[Illustration: AMALFI.[237]] - -As we returned through Rome we stayed at the Palazzo Parisani, and much -enjoyed the luxury of the large cool rooms, where we lived chiefly on -riccotta and lettices. One day as we came in, the porter gave us a -black-edged letter. It was the news that poor "Italima" was released -from all her sorrows. For my sister, to whom Madame de Trafford had -written exactly foretelling what was going to happen, one could only -give thanks (though she truly mourned her mother); but it was strangely -solemnising receiving the news in "Italima's" own rooms, where we had -seen her in her utmost prosperity. It was a fortnight before Esmeralda -could send us any details. - - "_34 Bryanston Street, May 9, 1864._--Your long-expected letter - came this morning. I had been waiting for it every day, every hour. - The illness was so short, and the sense of desolation so terrible - afterwards, it seems strange to have lived. On the Thursday the - nuns of the Precious Blood came to dinner, and were alarmed by - seeing a change in Mama. She talked cheerfully to them, but when I - left the room, she said to the Superior, 'I am really ill,' but - this was not told me till afterwards. I sent for Dr. Bell. He said - at once, 'It is bronchitis, but there is no danger, nothing to be - feared.' On Friday, Mama was up as early as usual. Father Galway - came to see her, also Lady Lothian. Mama was cheerful, and they saw - no cause for anxiety. Every hour made me more anxious. Mama kept - saying, 'Esmeralda, you cannot keep quiet, what is the matter with - you? I am not ill.' On Saturday I thought Mama worse, and more so - on Sunday, though she got up and came downstairs. Lady Lothian came - at two o'clock, then Father Galway. Mama talked to Father Galway - about her past life, and seemed quite cheerful. She sat up till - nine o'clock. When Mama was in bed, she said, 'I am better, I - think; go to bed, you are so tired, and do not get up again.' I - went to my room and wrote a letter to Father Galway, as I dreaded - that a change might take place in the night, and wished that the - letter might be ready to send. I went to Mama several times.... It - was at two o'clock that she laid her hand upon my head and said, - with a great effort, 'Esmeralda, I am going from you.' ... In a few - minutes she began to say the Gloria. I repeated the Belief, the Our - Father, and the Hail Mary.... Soon after five o'clock Father Galway - was here, and then Lady Lothian came with a nun of the Misericorde - as a nurse. Mama was then better, and seemed surprised to see - Father Galway. I remained praying in the next room with the nun and - Lady Lothian. At seven, I went in to Mama. She did not then believe - she was dying, but said she was ready to make her last confession. - The nuns of the Precious Blood had brought the relic of the True - Cross. At a quarter past eight o'clock Father Galway had heard - Mama's confession; he then said she must be raised before she could - receive the Last Sacraments. We all went into the room. Lady - Lothian made every effort to raise Mama. She _stood_ on the bed, - and tried to raise her; it was no use; we all tried in turn. The - nun of the Misericorde suggested raising Mama on sheets. It must - have been dreadful agony. There were a few deep moans, but at last - the nuns and Lady Lothian did raise Mama. Then she received Extreme - Unction; the nuns, Lady Lothian, and I kneeling around. Father - Galway approached the bed, and said to Mama that she was going to - receive the Body and Blood of our Lord--'Could she swallow still?' - She said 'Yes' audibly. She fixed her eyes on Father Galway; her - face was for the instant lighted up with intensity of love and - faith. There was a pause. Her breathing had in that moment become - more difficult. Father Galway said a second time the same words, - and again, with a great effort, Mama said 'Yes.' She then received - the Holy Viaticum, and in that solemn moment her eyes opened wide, - and a beautiful calm peaceful look came over her countenance,--and - this calm look never left her through all the long hours till - half-past three o'clock, when she breathed her last. When she was - asked anything, she always answered, 'Pray, pray.' Once she opened - her eyes wide, and with a long parting look said, 'Do not - worry,'--she passed her hand over my head: she liked to see me - kneeling by her side. - - "Francis did not arrive till Mama had received the Last Sacraments. - I met him on the stairs, and said, 'Francis, you are too late.' He - staggered against the wall, and with a cry of agony exclaimed, 'It - is impossible.' Father Galway was then saying the prayers of the - agonising, the responses being taken up by the nuns and Lady - Lothian. Lady Williamson and Lady Georgina Fullerton had also - arrived, but I do not think Mama knew them. At two o'clock Mama - asked for Lady Lothian, for she always missed her when she left the - room and asked for her back again, asked her to pray, and tried - hard to say something to her about me. I led Francis into the room, - and Lady Lothian said to Mama, 'Francis, you remember Francis,' and - Mama said 'Yes,' and then she blessed him. Francis buried his head - in his hands, his whole frame quivering with sobbing. Mama fixed - her eyes on him with a kind parting look, and then closed them - again. Lady Lothian then said, 'William' (for he and Edith had - come), and Mama said 'Yes,' and she opened her eyes again and - blessed William. Father Galway at intervals took up the prayers for - the dying,--and then, at last, while Francis, William, Auntie, and - Lady Lothian were kneeling at the foot of the bed, and the nuns - supporting Mama, the words were heard--'Go forth.' There was a - slight, hardly audible, rattle in Mama's throat. Father Galway - turned round to me, and said, 'Now you can help her more than you - did before,' and began the prayers for the dead--the five joyful - mysteries of the Rosary. The overpowering awe of that solemn moment - prevented any outburst of grief; a soul had in that instant been - judged. For long I had prayed that Mama might make a good death, - and this prayer was answered. All Father Galway's devotion before - and afterwards to each and all of us,--all Lady Lothian's untiring - kindness, I can never tell you, it was so beautiful. Then came long - days of watching by the body. The nuns of the Precious Blood sent - their large crucifix and their high silver candlesticks; the room - was hung in black and white. Auntie is sadly altered, but always - patient and self-sacrificing. I was with Lady Lothian a week; how - that week went by I cannot tell, and now there are lawyers. I long - for rest. There is such a blank, such a loneliness. I like to be - alone with our Blessed Lord, and to shut out the world." - - - "_May 18._--Probably I have told you everything up to the time of - the death, three weeks last Monday, and still I can hardly realise - it. Those last hours are so vivid. My thoughts are going back. Was - there anything that could have been done that was not done to save - Mama's life? was there anything she wished for that was not done? - because her breathing was so difficult she could only articulate - the shortest words. There was one sentence she tried to say to Lady - Lothian, and over and over again she began it with such an anxious - look that Lady Lothian should understand it, but it was impossible. - It began with _Es ... da_, and ended with _her_, but the - intermediate words were lost. - - "After all was over, Lady Lothian took me by the hand and led me - gently to the sofa in the other room. After some time the nun of - the Miséricorde fetched me into the room of death, and we began to - light torches round the bed, and watch those dear remains, and - there we watched and prayed for the dead for long, long hours. I - ordered a person to watch from eleven at night until the morning, - when the nun of the Miséricorde went in. She had been resting in my - bedroom next door, and we had been taking up alternately, in the - stillness of the night, the prayers for dear Mama. Then began the - watching through the day. The Abbé de Tourzel, Father Galway, - William, Edith, Lady Lothian, and Lady G. Fullerton came in turn to - watch, and so the day passed, and the night, and Tuesday. On - Tuesday evening Francis came up. The whole room had been - transformed. When he entered the door, he stopped and looked - around, then he went round the bed, stooped over Mama, and said, - 'Oh sister, Mama does not look _dead_,' then he sat down, buried - his head in his hands, and there he remained for an hour and a half - without moving. And then he left, and others came and joined in - the Rosary and Litany for the dead, and then came the second night, - and on Wednesday there were watchers through the day. On Wednesday - I first felt the great fatigue, but that day also passed praying - and watching. The next day Lady G. Fullerton came and took me to - her house while those dear remains were laid in the coffin. In the - evening the nun who was watching would not let me see Mama again, - but I got up early the following morning and went into the room, - and I cannot tell you what the agony of that moment was:--I became - senseless and was carried out. The coffin was closed and stood in - the middle of the room, which looked like a chapel. The crucifix - stood at the head of the coffin, huge silver candlesticks near and - around,--the room draped in black and white, and a bouquet of fresh - flowers at the head of the coffin. Watchers succeeded each other, - Miss Turville several times, Mrs. Galton, and so through Thursday - and Friday. On Friday evening Lady Lothian took me away. - - "The body was carried to the church at Farm Street at half-past - eight on Friday evening, as it was my wish that it should remain - before the Blessed Sacrament throughout the night. Low Masses - commenced at seven o'clock, at which time persons began to - assemble. At ten o'clock were the Requiem and High Mass. The coffin - was placed on a catafalque in front of the high altar, surrounded - by burning tapers. Francis was on the right, William on the left, - the four nuns at the foot, Lady Williamson, Lady Hardwicke, Sir - Hedworth, Lord Normanby, Col. Augustus Liddell, Victor Williamson, - and many others, stood near them. The chapel was full, the wailing - chant very impressive. There was one person, an old man tottering - with grief, whom every one saw, and every one inquired who he was. - At eleven o'clock six bearers came up the centre of the church, and - slowly the coffin was carried out. The family followed. Lady - Lothian came out of one of the seats and implored me not to follow - to the cemetery. The crowd closed in behind the coffin. Lady - Lothian and I remained in the church; after a time we returned to - her house. Everything appeared indistinct from that time. Now - William will tell the rest. - - (_Continued by William._)--"The four carriages started along the - road; by the side ran the weather-beaten white-haired gentleman, - and every one still inquired who he was. We reached Kensal Green at - half-past one. The coffin was carried into the chapel, and laid - upon another catafalque, where it was asperged. After a very - impressive oration by Father Galway, the procession left the chapel - headed by the four nuns. Then came the priests, then all the others - following the coffin, and last of all the white-haired unknown. As - the coffin was lowered, the responses were chanted by the nuns, and - at the same time a gleam of sunshine burst forth, being the only - one that appeared, throwing a strong light over everything. - - "That day the nuns and Father Galway went to see my sister, who was - terribly exhausted. On Monday morning the white-haired unknown came - to Bryanston Street and asked for Miss Hare. He was sent on to Lady - Lothian. Sister was alone (now she dictates the rest).--The door - opened, and as I looked, I saw a white-haired old man, who seemed - almost as if he had not strength to come forward. I went up to him. - Tears were streaming down his face; he clasped my hands in his, and - exclaimed, 'Ah! Mademoiselle!' and his sobs choked him and - prevented him from saying any more, and I, in my turn, exclaimed, - 'Oh! Lamarre, c'est vous!' It was indeed Lamarre, our old cook from - Palazzo Parisani! His was the most touching sorrow I ever saw. - 'Celle que j'ai servi, celle que j'ai véneré pendant tant d'années, - j'ai voulu lui rendre ce dernier homage de mon devoir. J'ai - respecté votre douleur dans l'église, et j'ai suivi le cortège à - pied jusqu'au cimetière. J'ai desiré voir la fin.' As Lamarre - leaned over me, he was trembling from head to foot. I made him sit - down by the fireside, and then we talked more calmly. Only when he - spoke of Victoire and her terrible grief, all his sorrow burst out - again, and large tears trickled down his cheeks. It was such a sad - parting when he went. But I was comforted in feeling how Mama had - been loved, how much she had been esteemed in her life, how many - there were who were deeply attached to her, who felt the sorrow as - I felt it. Then came the days of long letters of condolence from - France, from Italy, from Pisa, from Victoire, whose heart seemed - breaking, and where the funeral mass was said with great pomp, - sixty of the Pisan clergy attending, who sent me a list of their - names. At Rome the Duchess Sora will have a funeral mass said at - San Claudio, and all the clergy and friends who knew Mama well will - be present to offer up their prayers." - -According to Roman custom, the death was announced to acquaintances by a -deep mourning paper inscribed:-- - - "_Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you, my - friends_."--JOB xix. 21. - - Of your charity pray for the soul of - - MRS. ANN FRANCES HARE, - - (Widow of Francis George Hare, Esq., brother of the late - Archdeacon Hare of Lewes, Sussex), who departed this life, - after a short illness, on the 25th of April 1864, aged sixty-three - years, fortified with all the rites of Holy Church. On - whose soul sweet Jesus have mercy. - - * * * - - _Requiescat in pace. Amen._ - - * * * - - "Afflicted in few things, in many shall they be well rewarded, - because God has tried them."--_Wisdom_, iii. 5.[238] - -It was Mr. Trafford who responded to the announcement of the death which -had been sent to Madame de Trafford:-- - - "_Château le Beaujour, par Onzain, Cher et Loire, ce 1 Mai - 1864._--Croyez, ma chère Demoiselle, que nous partageons bien votre - douleur, mais femme propose, et Dieu dispose. Vous savez que Madame - de Trafford avait prévu ce qui est arrivé.... Madame de Trafford - vous dira encore 'Espérance et Confiance.' - -"E. W. TRAFFORD." - - TO MY SISTER. - - "_Florence, May 22, 1864._--This morning we have received your most - touching account of the last hours, of which we had so longed to - know something. You may imagine with what breathless interest we - have followed every detail. - - " ... I have seen poor Mr. Landor several times. He has a small - lodging in the Via della Chiesa, where he 'sits out the grey - remainder of his evening,' as Coleridge would describe it. He is - terribly altered, has lost the use of his hearing and almost of his - speech, and cannot move from his chair to his bed. I think he had a - very indistinct recollection who I was, but he remembered the - family, and liked to say over the old names--'Francis, Augustus, - Julius, I miei tre imperatori. I have never known any family I - loved so much as yours. I loved Francis most, then Julius, then - Augustus, but I loved them all. Francis was the dearest friend I - ever had.' He also spoke of the Buller catastrophe. 'It was a - great, great grief to me.' I did not tell him what has happened - lately; it was no use, he can live so short a time.[239] - - "When he last left the Villa Landore, it was because Mrs. Landor - turned him out by main force. It was a burning day, a torrid summer - sun. He walked on dazed down the dusty road, the sun beating on his - head. His life probably was saved by his meeting Mr. Browning, who - took him home. After some time, Browning asked to take him to the - Storys' villa at Siena, and he stayed with them a long time. Mrs. - Story says that nothing ever more completely realised King Lear - than his appearance when he arrived, with his long flowing white - locks and his wild far-away expression. But after a day of rest he - seemed to revive. He would get up very early and sit for hours at a - little table in the great hall of the villa writing verses--often - Latin verses. - - "One day he wrote, and thundered out, an epigram on his wife:-- - - 'From the first Paradise an angel once drove Adam; - From mine a fiend expelled me: Thank you, madam.' - - "Then he would tell the Storys interesting things out of his - long-ago, describing Count D'Orsay and Lady Blessington, with - Disraeli sitting silently watching their conversation, as if it - were a display of fireworks. He was always courteous and kind--a - polished gentleman of the old school. At last Browning arranged for - him to go to a lodging of his own, but he went to spend their - little girl's birthday with the Storys. He walked to their villa - along the dusty road in his old coat, but when he came in, he - unbuttoned it, and with one of his old volleys of laughter showed a - flowered waistcoat, very grand, which 'D'Orsay and he had ordered - together,' and which he had put on in honour of the occasion. - - "After he was living in Florence, Mrs. Browning told him one day - that she had just got Lord Lytton's new book 'Lucile.'--'Oh, God - bless my soul!' he said, 'do lend it to me.' In an hour he sent it - back. 'Who could ever read a poem which began with _But_?' However, - he was afterwards persuaded to read it, and shouted, as he - generally did over what pleased him, 'Why, God bless my soul, it's - the finest thing I ever read in my life.' - - "Mrs. Browning did not think he was properly looked after at - Florence, and sent her excellent maid, Wilson, to care for him. But - it did not answer. Wilson cooked him a most excellent little - dinner, and when he saw it on the table, he threw it all out of the - window; it was too English, he said." - -In returning north from Italy, we made an excursion to Courmayeur, -driving in a tiny carriage from Ivrea along the lovely Val d'Aosta, and -lingering to sketch at all the beautiful points. In France we had an -especially happy day at Tonnerre, a thoroughly charming old town, where -the people were employed in gathering the delicious lime-flowers which -lined the boulevards, for drying to make tisanes. - -[Illustration: COURMAYEUR.[240]] - -There was a subject of painful interest to us during this summer, which -it is difficult to explain in a few words. My sister's letter mentions -how, when Italima was dying, there was one thing which she tried over -and over again to say to the Dowager Lady Lothian, who was with her, and -which Lady Lothian and the other bystanders vainly endeavoured to -understand. It began with "Esmeralda" and ended with "her," but the -intermediate words were lost. We naturally explained it to mean -"Esmeralda will be very desolate when I am gone; you will look after -her." - -After Italima's death, Esmeralda had moved from Bryanston Street to a -house in Duke Street, Manchester Square, which was kept by Mrs. Thorpe, -the faithful and devoted maid of Italima's old friend Mrs. Chambers. -Here my sister had every comfort, and might have had rest, but one day -her brother William came to visit her, and broke a blood-vessel while he -was in the house. His wife was sent for, and for several weeks he -hovered between life and death; indeed, he never really recovered from -this attack, though he was able to be moved in a month and lived for -more than three years. The fatigue of her brother's illness entirely -prostrated Esmeralda, who was already terribly shaken in health by the -fatigue of the strange watchings, enjoined by Catholicism, which -followed her mother's death. - -It was about August that I received a letter from my Aunt Eleanor Paul -begging me to come to London immediately, for something most -extraordinary and trying had happened. When I went, I found my sister -looking terribly ill, and my aunt greatly agitated. My aunt said that -two days before Mrs. Beckwith had been to visit my sister; that, -supposing she was come to talk of Catholic matters, she had not paid -any especial attention to what they were saying, and, owing to her -deafness, she consequently heard nothing. That she was suddenly startled -by a scream from my sister, and looking up, saw her standing greatly -excited, and Mrs. Beckwith trying to soothe her; that she still supposed -it was some Catholic news which had agitated my sister, and that -consequently she made no inquiries. - -The next day, Esmeralda went out to drive with Mrs. Beckwith, and when -she came back she looked dreadfully harassed and altered, so much so -that at last my aunt said, "Now, Esmeralda, I am quite sure something -has happened. I stand in the place of a mother to you now, and I insist -upon knowing what it is." - -Then my sister said that Mrs. Beckwith had startled her the day before -by saying that, as she had been walking down Brook Street, Madame de -Trafford had suddenly appeared before her, and, looking back upon all -the events connected with the past appearances of Madame de Trafford, -the news was naturally a shock to her. After driving with Mrs. Beckwith, -she had returned with her to her hotel, and while she was there the door -suddenly opened, and Madame de Trafford came in. - -The malady from which Esmeralda had been suffering was an extraordinary -feeling, a sensation of burning in her fingers. The doctor whom she had -consulted, when this sensation became so acute as to prevent her -sleeping, said it arose from an overwrought state of nerves, possibly -combined with some strain she might have received while helping to move -furniture to turn the room into a chapel, after her mother's death. When -Madame de Trafford came into the room at the hotel, my sister instantly, -as usual, jumped up to embrace her, but Madame de Trafford put out her -hands and warded her off with a gesture of horror, exclaiming, "Ne me -touchez pas, ma chère, je vous en supplie ne me touchez pas: c'est vos -doigts qui sont en feu. Ah! ne me touchez pas." And then she became -terribly transfigured--the voice of prophecy came upon her, and she -said, "When your mother was dying, there was something she tried to say -to Lady Lothian, which you none of you were able to hear or understand. -I, in my château of Beaujour in Touraine, I heard it. It echoed through -and through me. It echoes through me still. For three months I have -struggled day and night not to be forced to tell you what it was, but I -can struggle no longer; I am compelled to come here; I am forced away -from Beaujour; I am forced to England against my will. When your mother -was dying she saw the future, and said, 'Esmeralda will soon follow me: -I shall not long be separated from her.' And you _will_ follow her," -shrieked Madame de Trafford, her eyes flaming, and every nerve quivering -with passion. "You _will_ follow her very soon. Only one thing could -save you: if you were to go to Rome before the winter, that might save -your life; but if not, you must--die!" And then Madame de Trafford, -sinking down suddenly into an ordinary uninspired old woman, began to -cry; she cried and sobbed as if her heart would break. - -When my aunt heard what Madame de Trafford had said, she felt the injury -it might do to my sister's impressible nature, and she was very angry. -She felt that, whatever her impulse might have been, Madame de Trafford -ought to have conquered it, and she determined to see her and to tell -her so herself. Very early the next morning she went to the hotel where -Madame de Trafford was and asked to see her. She was refused admittance, -but she insisted upon waiting, and she did wait, till at last she was -let in. Madame de Trafford was then quite composed and calm, very -courteous, very kind, very like other people, and my aunt said that in -entering upon her subject, it was like accusing a sane person of being -perfectly mad. But suddenly, whilst they were talking, Madame de -Trafford glided round the table, and standing in front of the fireplace, -seemed to rise out of herself, and in her terrible voice, every syllable -of which was distinctly audible to my deaf aunt on the other side of the -room, exclaimed these words--"Votre nièce est malade; elle sera encore -plus malade, et puis elle mourira," and having said this, she went -out--she went entirely away--she went straight back to France. She had -fulfilled the mission for which she came to England, and the next day -she wrote from Beaujour in Touraine to pay her bill at the hotel. - -Aunt Eleanor said that to her dying day that awful voice and manner of -Madame de Trafford would be present to her mind. - -Looking back upon the past, could Esmeralda and her aunt disbelieve in -the prediction of Madame de Trafford? Had not my sister in her desk a -warning letter which had told the day and hour of her mother's death? -and how true it had been! Yet at this time her going to Rome seemed -quite impossible; she could not go away whilst all her law affairs were -unwound up, indeed even then in the most critical state: besides that, -she had no funds. But in November, three suits in Chancery were suddenly -decided in her favour. By two of these my sister recovered £8000 of her -mother's fortune; by the third she secured £3000 from the trustees who -had signed away her mother's marriage settlement. So she and her aunt -immediately started for Rome, accompanied by Clémence Boissy, the old -maid of her childhood, whom she had summoned to return to her -immediately on her recovering an income. I will give a few extracts from -Esmeralda's letters after this:-- - - "_Paris, Nov._--At last we did start. But what a packing! what a - confusion!... Yesterday I saw Madame Davidoff,[241] as enthusiastic - as ever, but she was so rushed upon from all quarters, that I could - not get a quiet talk. I also saw the Père de Poulevey, the great - friend of the Père de Ravignan, who wrote his life.... And now you - will say this is a very cheerful letter, and on the contrary I feel - very sad, and very sad I felt at the Sacré Cœur and at S. Roch - this morning. Everything I see brings back the past." - - - "_Dec. 8, 1864, Maçon._--How astonished you will be to see the date - of this place. 'Why are you not in Rome by this time?' you will - exclaim. Because I was so exhausted when we arrived here that - Auntie agreed that the only thing to do was to take a long rest, - give up the Mont Cenis, and proceed slowly by Nice and Genoa. - - [Illustration: Anne F. M. L. Hare. - - From a portrait by Canevari] - - "Villefranche, which is about an hour's drive from Ars, is on our - way to Lyons. If the road is not a heavy one, Auntie and I shall - spend the Feast of the Immaculate Conception there next Thursday, - and then proceed on our journey. The mistress of the hotel here has - been backwards and forwards to Ars for upwards of twenty-five - years, and constantly talked to the Curé d'Ars and heard him - preach. 'Vous ne pouvez pas vous imaginer,' she says, 'ce que - c'était que d'entendre le Curé d'Ars en chair; on fondait en - larmes, on croyait entendre les paroles de notre Seigneur quand il - enseignait le peuple. C'était peu de paroles, mais cela remuait - jusqu'à fond de l'âme. "Oh, mes enfants," disait le Curé, "_si_ - vous pouviez voir le bon Dieu comme je le vois, combien peu de - chose seraient à vos yeux les choses de cette terre. Ah! si vous - connaissiez l'amour de Dieu!" Et puis les larmes coulaient le long - de ses joues. Il pleurait toujours quand il parlait de l'amour de - Dieu. Ce n'était pas un grand orateur que l'on écoutait. Oh! non, - Mademoiselle, c'étaient seulement quelques paroles qui allaient - droit au cœur. Vous deviez l'entendre quand il faisait son - catéchisme à midi, à chaque jour un sujet nouveau. L'église était - toujours pleine. Il y'a vingt-cinq ans, il y a même trente ans, - l'on parlait du Curé d'Ars et on allait à Ars. Le Curé restait dans - son confessional jusqu'à minuit, quelquefois jusqu'à une heure de - matin. Alors il sortait de l'église pour prendre deux heures de - repos. Quatre femmes de la campagne se mettaient aux quatre coins - pour empêcher le monde de passer, car, au moindre bruit, M. le Curé - se levait et sortait de suite: ces femmes de la campagne étaient - bien dévouées. - - "'Un jour que j'étais dans l'église d'Ars, le Curé s'écriait, - "Laissez passer cette dame," designant du doigt une dame au chapeau - verte--"laissez la passer." Un jour une autrefois il me vit; il dit - à la foule qui se pressait autour de lui, "Laissez passer cette - dame, car elle n'est pas d'ici, il faut qu'elle parte,"--et ainsi - j'ai pu m'approcher et lui parler. J'allais voir le Curé d'Ars bien - malade d'une maladie des nerfs à la suite de la maladie de ma - fille. "Vous êtes bien souffrante," dit le Curé, "vous ne voulez - pas encore mourir; c'est pour vos enfants que vous desirez vivre: - c'est bien," dit il, "c'est bien; vous serez encore malade aussi - longtemps que vous l'avez été, et puis vous serez bien." En effet, - il y'avait huit mois que je souffrais, et huit mois après je fus - guérie--tel que M. le Curé d'Ars m'avait dit.' - - "'Le Vicaire-Général,' said the mistress,'m'a raconté ceci - lui-même, avec des larmes aux yeux. Il a logé ici une nuit: c'est - alors qu'il me l'a raconté. "Madame," dit il, "je ne pouvais croire - à tout ce que j'entendis d'Ars. Je croyais que ces paysans étaient - exaltés. Je voulus donc voir en personne: je me rendis à Ars. - J'arrivai donc à Ars. Il y'avait beaucoup de monde. J'y suis resté - deux jours. Voici ce qui est arrivé. Je quittais l'église avec M. - le Curé. J'allais avec lui vers sa petite maison. En arrivant, la - vieille cuisinière ou bonne du Curé vient à notre rencontre. 'Ah! - M. le Curé,' dit elle, 'nous n'avons plus rien, nous ne pouvons - plus donner.'--'Donnez,' répondit M. le Curé, 'donnez - toujours.'--'Mais nous ne pouvons pas,' dit encore la vieille - femme, 'il n'y a rien, _rien_,' répetait elle. M. le Curé était - vif. Combien il lui a couté pour pouvoir se modérer--'Donnez, - donnez toujours par poignées,' dit il encore. 'Comment,' répondit - la vieille, 'comment voulez-vous que je donne: il n'y a rien?' - "C'est alors," dit M. le Vicaire-Général, "que j'ai dit au Curé, - 'Je ferai un rapport à Monseigneur l'Evêque, je suis sûr qu'il vous - enverra pour vos pauvres.' Le Curé ne répondit pas; il fit comme un - mouvement d'impatience. 'Montez au grénier,' dit il à la vieille - cuisinière, 'et donnez, donnez toujours aux pauvres.' Cette fois - elle obéit. Elle court, elle ouvre la porte du grénier. Elle - descende aussi vite; le grénier était tout plein. 'Ah, M. le Curé, - si c'est ainsi,' dit elle, 'nous pouvons toujours donner.' Ce - fait," dit M. le Vicaire, "je l'ai vu de mes yeux, et les larmes - remplissaient ses yeux en me le racontant."' - - "Miraculous cures are still constantly occurring. Clémence is going - to-morrow to find out for me a boy whose limbs were distorted and - who was made whole. I wish to hear from his own lips about the - wonderful cure; but here people are accustomed to all this, and any - particular miraculous cure does not strike them as extraordinary. - The facts in this case are that the boy was the son of a baker, - eight years old, who, with limbs all distorted and suffering - acutely, was carried by his parents to Ars. The Vicar-General and - several of the clergy were at the church-door when the carriage - drove up with this poor cripple in it. His mother carried him to - the altar-rail and endeavoured to place him on his knees, but the - boy could hardly keep himself in a kneeling posture owing to his - distorted limbs, and seemed to swing first to the right and then to - the left. When mass was ended he said, 'I am better,' and was led, - being supported, to the hotel, where he was laid upon a bed. His - mother, remaining in the room, after a while saw him looking - upwards intently, and for a long time he continued as if gazing at - something above him. She called her husband and said, 'Come and see - our child looking upwards; what is he looking at?' Suddenly the boy - turned towards his mother and said, 'Lift me off the bed; I think - that I am well and that I can walk,'--and so it was: she lifted him - on to the floor, and the boy was cured, and has been well from that - hour, and lives opposite this hotel at the baker's shop. - - "The mistress told me--'Un jour le Curé d'Ars alla voir un curé de - Lyon qu'on dit être saint. "Vous prendrez ma place," dit il. "Vous - ferez encore plus de conversions."' I am going to Lyons to try to - find out this curé. At Maçon also there is a certain 'Curé de S. - Pierre,' who is greatly beloved, and of whom many beautiful stories - are told. - - "I think of you at different times in the day, and try to picture - you, sometimes in the study, sometimes reading to Aunt Augustus, - sometimes late in the evening sitting on the large sofa, with all - your manuscripts on the table, and good Lea coming in to put up the - curtains. When I think of all the late family troubles, I try to - remember that God never allows anything to happen, however painful, - unless it is for our good. It depends on ourselves to make use of - every trial, so I trust that you may be able to forgive and - forget--the last is the more difficult. - - " ... You expect too much good from---- Do not expect too much. We - must leave those to flutter like sparrows who cannot soar like - eagles. It is S. Ambrose who says so." - -[Illustration: ARS.[242]] - -My sister next wrote from Avignon:-- - - "_Dec. 11, 1864._--Not further than Avignon! I was ill at Lyons and - could not go on. There I had a most agreeable visitor, a M. Gabet, - very zealous in the œuvres de la Propagation de la Foi. He spent - two evenings with us, and told us much that was very interesting. - He told me that he had lately received a donation from Dahomey, - and he corresponds with missionaries in every part of the world. - Auntie went up to the convent to fetch two friends of mine who were - staying there, and I have been given a small medal of the Curé - d'Ars blessed by himself." - -My sister did not reach Rome till the second week in January. - - "_Jan. 16, 1865._--We arrived late on Tuesday night, coming - _voiturier_ from Leghorn, two long days, and very fatiguing. When - we arrived at Leghorn a violent storm was raging, and we were - obliged to give up going by sea, only sending Leonardo with the - luggage. Auntie, Victoire, Clémence, and I travelled in a tolerable - carriage. There are so few travellers that way, that at Orbetello, - where we slept, the excitement was intense, the women wishing to - examine dress and coiffure, to know the _ultima moda_. The carriage - was quite mobbed, the _voiturier_ having declared it was a _gran - signora_. 'La vogliamo vedere,' the people cried out, and pushed - and struggled. It seemed so strange to return to a country where so - little could create such an excitement. I was carried upstairs, so - terribly tired with the incessant shaking. We slept also at Civita - Vecchia, whence Victoire and Clémence went on to Rome by an early - train, Auntie and I following late. It was quite dark as we drove - up to the Parisani, and the streets seemed perfectly silent. The - porter came out saying 'Ben tornata,' and then his wife, with a - scarlet handkerchief over her head, exclaiming 'Ben tornata' also, - and we came upstairs without being heard by any one else. I rushed - through the rooms, throwing open one door after another. In the - little sitting-room Clémence and Victoire were sitting together, a - look of misery on both faces. When I reached my own room I fell - upon a chair: I could scarcely breathe. I heard Victoire cry - out,'Mon Dieu! courage; c'est la volonté de Dieu: l'heure de votre - mère a sonné, l'heure aussi du mari de Clémence a sonné.' She - poured something down my throat and rubbed my hands, and brought me - round by degrees. Clémence was sobbing violently for the old - husband, whose death she had learnt on her arrival; Auntie was - standing looking from one to the other, as if she did not realise - how terrible was that evening: she had hoped that the joy of seeing - Rome again would make me forget what was sad. Poor Victoire had - made one great effort, and then she could scarcely speak for hours. - I never saw such devotion to the memory of a relation or friend as - her devotion to the memory of dear Mama; and then there was so much - to remind her also of the good Félix, gone to his rest since our - Roman home was broken up. I had dreaded this arrival for months, - and had been glad to put it off from week to week, till I could put - it off no longer. Now it is a pleasure to Victoire to unpack Mama's - things and bring them to me, one after another, her eyes often - filled with tears, and then she says, trying to compose herself, - 'Que la volonté de Dieu soit faite.' And yet I cannot wish dear - Mama back again. What I had lived for was that deathbed--that it - should have God's blessing and that her soul should be saved. I - used to think _how_ glorified that soul might be, after so much - suffering, if only at death resigned. But now I am going back to - past thoughts, instead of telling my Augustus about the present. - - "The old beggar-woman at San Claudio rushed towards me. 'L'ho - saputo,' she said,'quella benedetta anima!' and she cried also, and - then the sacristan of San Claudio, and he told me how Mama had died - on one of the great days of San Claudio--the feast of Notre Dame de - Bon Conseil--our Lady's altar under that title being the altar - where Mama had knelt for so many years: all have been struck by - this." - - - "_Feb. 9._--It is, as you say, a gathering up of the fragments that - remain. I am beginning to feel the sense of loneliness in these - desolate rooms less, though I still feel it very much. I do not - wish that anything should be different from what God has willed it - I used to tell Mama when we were so poor how strange it was that I - never _felt_ poor. She used to say that was the great difference - between herself and me, that she felt poor and I did not; why not - she could never understand. I feel quite certain that Mama would - never have liked Rome again; probably she never would have returned - here, and perhaps it was necessary that through suffering she - should be prepared for death by being detached from the things of - life. - - "Most of the Romans have called, some paying long visits--Duchess - Sora, Princess Viano, Prince Doria, Dukes Fiano and Sora. In fact, - a day never passes without two or three visitors. I have made three - devoted friends--the Princess Galitzin; the Padre Pastacaldi, a - venerable ecclesiastic of Pisa, who is anxious to further my views - in establishing a particular association for raising funds for the - Church; and lastly, Don Giovanni Merlini, the friend of 'the - Venerable'[243] for thirty years, who has already paid me four - visits. These visits are quite delightful: I always feel I am in - the presence of a saint. His language is most beautiful. Yesterday - he gave me his blessing in the most solemn, earnest manner, laying - his hand on my head. I have heard from him so much of the Venerable - del Bufalo.... A great storm has swept over the nuns of the - Precious Blood: it nearly swept them out of England, but instead of - that they are to move to the Italian Church of S. Pietro in - Bloomsbury. I have had a great deal of correspondence about them." - - - "_March 4._--The friend of the Venerable[244] came to-day, and we - planned together work for the nuns in London,--a great work I have - wished to see established since early in 1858. Again he gave me his - solemn blessing. He spoke of poverty--voluntary poverty, but said - that all were not called to that '_spogliamento_.' Then I told him - that I had also been poor, and he looked around at the decorations - of the room and said simply 'Iddio ci ha rimediato.' His is - certainly a beautiful face from its expression; there is so much - light about it, and such simplicity and humility. Pierina[245] - certainly ought to be saint-like, since she has been trained to a - religious life by such a man." - - - "_March 9._--During my mother's illness I often thought of the - 80,000 who die daily, and who have to appear before the - judgment-seat and who are found wanting. Sometimes, when I am - alone, I think how in every moment which I am idling away a soul - has been judged, and perhaps a prayer could have saved that soul. - Oh! in your watchings beside the sick-bed, ask forgiveness for the - souls that are then passing away from the earth, that they may be - counted amongst the blessed for eternity.... It is strange what - mental agony one can live through. A sort of supernatural strength - is given when it is required, and is it not another proof of the - watchful tenderness of our Blessed Lord? It is so true, that when a - soul is ready for the change, death is only an entering on the - perfected life.... I believe that God has still blessings left for - my brother: His blessings can never be exhausted." - - - "_May 3._--How you will envy me when you hear that the saint of - Acuto, the Rev. Mother-General of the Precious Blood, is coming to - Rome at the end of the week and is coming to see me. The - Father-General came to give me this welcome news, when I was - wondering and planning how I could get to Acuto with my weak back. - I have begged for two visits at least.... I have constant letters - from the Rev. Mother of the Precious Blood in London about the new - work of her nuns. I have been thinking of writing the life of the - Venerable del Bufalo. Don Giovanni Merlini, the Father-General, - promises help and materials, and the Italian life is very poor. The - Taigi and Bufalo lives would come out so well together, as they - lived at the same time, and died, I believe, in the same year, - though quite independent of each other; but I have not the gift of - writing--_there_ is the difficulty. - - "On the 25th there was an anniversary High Mass and a very - beautiful choir for dearest Mama, Monseigneur Level attending, and - many friends. Mrs. Monteith sat next to me, and felt it so much, - she cried nearly the whole time. It is so beautiful this love for - the dead in the Catholic Church. - - "I have had a letter from Mrs. Wagner, who says just that which - struck me in one of Father Galway's sermons, when he spoke of - parents' sorrow at the loss of their children, that they are to - look upon them as gifts _lent_ for a time. She says, 'We do not - repine, but render back with thankfulness the gift lent us for a - season.' - - "To-day I had a beautiful simple note from the Father-General of - the Precious Blood. I wrote to thank him for several things he had - sent me. His answer was, 'Do not thank me; it suffices me that you - love our Lord Jesus Christ. I bless you from my heart. Pray for me - miserable.' I thought how my Augustus would have liked this note." - -My sister during the whole of this winter very seldom left the house, -and never went into society. Political differences, however, rendered -Roman society at this time less pleasant than before. Esmeralda -wrote--"The usual conversation goes on, but all parties are divided and -contradictory: the Pope (Pius IX.) alone is perfectly calm, and trusts -in Providence whilst the world is raging and storming and plotting." If -Esmeralda went out, it was generally to the Villa Ludovisi, where the -Duke and Duchess Sora were living in a sort of honourable banishment, -the Duke's parents, the Prince and Princess Piombino, having been exiled -to Tuscany. The Duchess Sora used to talk to my sister of the -patriarchal life in her great "villa," where there were so many small -farmhouses and cottages within the grounds, that it gave her occupation -enough to visit their inmates and learn their characters. She said that -she brought up her children amongst the people within the walls of the -villa, that they might thus early learn to know thoroughly those who -would depend on them afterwards. She let them call one man after another -to work in their little gardens, that they might thus make individual -acquaintance with each. On Good Friday, when the chaplain called in all -the work-people to prayer, there were seventy in the chapel, including -the Duke and herself, and all, as it were, one great family.[246] - -One of the people who most rejoiced over Esmeralda's return to Rome was -Giacinta Facchini, commonly known as "the Saint of St. Peter's." This -extraordinary woman lived for forty years in St. Peter's without ever -leaving it, devoting herself to incessant prayer and sleeping in a cell -in one of the pillars. When people had any particular object in view, -they used to go down to St. Peter's and ask her to pray for it. -Esmeralda used constantly, during her prosperity, to go to visit her in -St. Peter's, and she would remain with her for hours. At length one day -the confessor of the saint came to her and said that now, though she had -lived in St. Peter's for forty years, she would be showing a far more -real devotion to God and a more lowly spirit if she were to break -through the life which was beginning to make her celebrated, and return -to the humble service of God in the world. Giacinta Facchini obeyed, and -after that she often used to go to see my sister at the Palazzo -Parisani. But she still spent the greater part of her time in St. -Peter's, where I have often seen her quaint figure, in a half nun's -dress, bowed in prayer before one of the altars, or perfectly prostrate -on the pavement in silent adoration of the Blessed Sacrament. - -Here are a few extracts from Esmeralda's private meditations at this -time:-- - - "Let me offer myself continually with all I have for the greater - glory of God, remembering the words of St. Ignatius, that 'having - received everything from God, we ought to be ever ready to render - back all that He has given us.' The propensity most opposed to the - reign of Jesus in our souls is the want of resolution in all - matters connected with spiritual advancement. Kneeling at the foot - of the cross, let me make war against all my evil propensities; - that I may be purified and strengthened in God's love, let me seek - to detach myself from everything, exterior and interior, that - separates me from God.' - - "Self-love must be overcome by mortification of self, by asking of - God to give us His love, to fill us with His love, for if the love - of God _fills_ our hearts, self-love must be rooted out. Let me ask - of our Lord that I may have the same resolution in spiritual - matters, and in the carrying out and _on_ of a spiritual life, - which I have where a temporal matter is concerned. Oh! with what - zeal and earnestness can I pursue a temporal object, with the same - zeal and earnestness may I carry out my resolutions for a spiritual - life." - - "_Jan. 14, 1865._--Unless we can build up a solitude in our hearts, - completely detaching ourselves from the love of everything in this - world, we can never hope to attain to that spiritual joy which is a - preparation for the life of Jesus in our souls, a preparation for - the resurrection to eternal life." - - - "_March 4._--Where there is such a strong attachment to this life, - my will cannot be perfectly united to the Divine. Oh! _how_ many - steps there are in the ladder of a spiritual life! Detachment from - this life must gradually lead to the union of my will with the - Divine and to the entire _indwèlling_ of the love of Jesus in my - soul." - - - "_March 17._--By the light of the wounds of Jesus Christ, may I - search the innermost folds of my heart, and cast out all that is - contrary to charity and humility. 'We must study in the book of - Charity more than in any other: that book teaches us all things;' - these are the words of S. Dominic." - - - "_March 30._--May filial love of God take the place of servile fear - in our hearts; then will our Lord draw nigh to us and replenish us - with His grace. When filial love has closed the door against all - earthly thoughts, then shall we return into that inward solitude in - which our Lord loves that we should dwell, to seek Him and commune - with Him." - - - "_April 1._--I ask for the grace of a pure love of God. The more we - can leave off thinking of ourselves, the nearer we shall attain to - that union with our Lord which the saints speak of--loving Him only - and entirely, because He first loved us. In proportion as our - confidence in God increases, and we can lay aside all confidence in - ourselves, we shall attain purity of intention in all our thoughts, - words, and actions. Let us seek that purity of intention which can - only follow confidence in God, and can only exist in those souls - which unite themselves entirely to God." - - - "_April 22._--Day by day I leave at the foot of the cross something - more of myself. I cannot live again the time that is no longer - mine. We are constantly journeying on to our last end, so let us - strive in our spiritual life truly to lay at the foot of the cross - something of that which binds our wills to ourselves and to - creatures, and thus free our will from all that hinders its perfect - union with the will of our Lord Jesus Christ." - -I have been making a long digression from my personal story, but -Esmeralda, in her gentle patience and ardent search after all things -high and holy, had become so greatly endeared to us in the last few -years, that her life was almost ours. And indeed all those things are -ever a part of life which are a constant part of thoughts and -conversation. - - * * * * * - -In the summer of 1864 we had a delightful visit at Holmhurst from Dean -Alford and his family. He read Tennyson's "Guinevere" aloud to us in -the garden, and was at his very best, full of anecdote and fun. I -remember his description of a trial for murder which resulted in a -verdict of manslaughter owing to the very effective evidence of a -Somersetshire peasant. "He'd a stick and he'd a stick, and he hit he and -he hit he, and if he'd ha hit he when he hit he, he'd ha killed he and -not he he." - -In the autumn, while I was staying with Mr. Stephen Lawley at Escrick -near York, I had much conversation with his charming old mother, Lady -Wenlock.[247] Here are some notes of what she told me:-- - - "I once saw Lord Nelson. It was when I was quite a little child. - The maids took me to church at St. George's, and there I saw the - wonderful little man, covered with orders and with one arm. They - told me it was Lord Nelson, and I knew it was, for his figure and - prints were in all the shop-windows. - - "I remember well the battle of Trafalgar. It was the _Euryalus_, - Captain Blackwood, that brought the news, and, oh dear! the - sensation. I was seven years old then, but I knew the names of all - the ships and captains. My sister was then the mistress of my - father's house, and I was sent for down to her. She was not up, - and the newspaper was lying on the bed. 'Oh, my dear,' she said, - 'my father has sent me up the newspaper, and we have taken twenty - ships of the line, but--Nelson is dead!' Child as I was, I burst - into tears; one had been taught to think that nothing could go on - without him. - - "I cannot quite forgive Dean Trench his book.[248] Nelson was the - one hero of his time, and it was a pity to bring up the bad vulgar - side again and not to let it sleep.... The Lady Carysfort the book - mentions was my aunt. My cousins were quite devoted to Mrs. Trench, - and have often told me how enchanted they felt when she came back - to England." - - * * * - - "King George III. used to be very fond of driving about in - Berkshire with the Queen and visiting the families in the - neighbourhood of Windsor--those whom they used to honour with their - notice. He often came to my grandfather,[249] who was gouty with - the gout of that day, which prevented people from rising, so that - he was not able to get up when the King came in. The King and Queen - always came quite simply in a carriage and four with the prickers - riding before in crimson liveries. There was a particular point in - the avenue at which the prickers were visible from the windows, and - when they were seen, my grandfather used to ring the bell and ask - if there was a round of beef in the house. He was generally - answered in the affirmative, and then it was all right, for none of - the royal party took luncheon, only the Queen used to have a - particular kind of chocolate brought to her: my father generally - offered it on a tray, after they had been about half-an-hour in the - house. They used to take an interest in everything, and if any one - ventured to rehang their pictures, they would say, 'Mr. So-and-so, - why have you rehung your pictures?' I remember the King one day - asking my grandfather if he had read the memoirs which every one - was talking about at that time. They were those of the Duc de St. - Simon, La Grande Mademoiselle, &c., and my father said no, he had - not seen them. The King came again within the fortnight, and my - grandfather did not see him coming down the avenue, nor did he know - the King was in the house, till there was a kind of fumbling - outside the door, and the King, who would not let any one come to - help him, opened the door, with a great pile of volumes reaching - from his waist to his chin, saying, 'Here, Mr. Grenville, I have - brought you the books we were talking about.' But as the King came - through the door, the books slipped and fell all about on the - floor: my grandfather could not move, and the King began to pick - them up, till some one came to help him and put them on the table - for him. - - "The scene on the terrace at Windsor on Sundays was the prettiest - thing. It was considered proper that every one in the neighbourhood - who could should go; those who were in a position of life to be - presented at court stood in the foremost rank. The presence of the - King was announced by the coming of 'Lavender,' a kind of - policeman-guard, who used to clear the way and always preceded the - royal family; he was the only kind of guard they had. The Queen - wore evening dress, a sort of cap with a string of diamonds, and a - loose flowing kind of gown; there was no such thing then as - demi-toilette. After her came the princesses, or any of the princes - who happened to have come down from London, or, on fine days, some - of the Cabinet Ministers. The royal family stopped perpetually and - talked to every one. I remember the King coming up to me when I was - a very little girl, and dreadfully frightened I was. 'Well, now,' - said the King, 'and here is _this_ little girl. Come, my dear, take - off your bonnet,' he said (for I wore a poke), and then he added, - 'I wanted to see if you were like your mother, my dear.' - - "It was Miss Burney who gave the impression of Queen Charlotte as - being so formidable. Nothing could be more false; she was the - kindest person that ever lived, and so simple and unostentatious. - The fact was that Miss Burney had been spoilt by having been made a - sort of queen in Dr. Johnson's court. The day 'Evelina' came out - Dr. Johnson said to her, 'Miss Burney, _die_ to-night,' meaning - that she had reached the highest point of fame which it was - possible to attain. Queen Charlotte made her one of her readers, - for she was passionately fond of being read to while she worked. - But Miss Burney was one of those people afflicted with _mauvaise - honte_. She could not read a bit, and the Queen could not hear a - word she said. 'Mama the Queen,' said the Duchess of Gloucester to - me, 'never could bear Miss Burney, poor thing!' So the Queen - invented some other place in her extreme kindness to Miss Burney, - to prevent having to send her away, and in that place Miss Burney - was obliged to stand. - - "An instance of Queen Charlotte's extreme kindness was shown when - she made Lady Elizabeth Montagu one of her ladies-in-waiting, out - of her great love to Lady Cornwallis. When Lady Elizabeth arrived - at court, the Queen sent for her and said, 'My dear, you have no - mother here, so I must beg that you will consider me as your - mother, and if you have any trouble or difficulty, that you will - come to me at once.' When Lady Elizabeth went to her room, she - found the bed covered with new things--new dresses, a quantity of - black velvet to make the trains which were worn then, and a great - many ornaments. 'My dear,' said the Queen, 'you will want these - things, and it will be a year before your salary is due; I thought - it might not be convenient to you to buy them just now, so you must - accept them from me.' - - "Another day, when Lady Elizabeth had been ill in the evening and - unable to go with the Queen to a concert, early in the morning she - heard a knock at her door while she was in bed, and the Queen came - in in her dressing-gown, with what we called a combing-cloth (which - they used because of the powder) over her shoulders, and all her - hair down. 'May I come in, Lady Elizabeth?' she said. 'I heard you - were ill, and there is nothing stirring to-day, so I came to beg - that you will not think of getting up, and that you will send for - everything you can wish for. Pray think of everything that it is - right for you to have.'" - - * * * * * - - "Mrs. Fry came to Escrick once, and was pleased to see our gardens - and the few little things we had to show her. 'Friend Caroline, I - like thy pig-styes,' she said." - -During this and the following summer I was often with my sister in -London, and saw much of her friends, persons who have been entirely lost -to me, never seen again, since the link which I had to them in her has -been broken. Thus at Esmeralda's house I often saw the gentle sisters of -the Precious Blood and their sweet-looking Mother, Pierina Roleston. She -was utterly ignorant of worldly matters, and entirely governed by her -priests, but her own character was of a simplicity much like that of the -Curé d'Ars. She once described to me Maria de Matthias, and the story of -the foundation of her Order. - - "Oh, I wish you could see the Mother-General: she is so simple, - such a primitive person. When she wants anything, she just goes - away and talks to our Blessed Lord, and He gives it to her. - Sometimes the nuns come and say to her, 'What can we do, Mother? we - have no flour, we cannot bake;' and she answers, 'Why should you be - troubled? Are not the granaries of our Master always full? We will - knock at them, and He will give us something.' - - "One day there was nothing at all left at Acuto: there was no - bread, and there was no money to buy any. But Mother-General had - just that simple faith that she was not at all troubled by it, and - she even brought in five additional persons, five workmen who were - to make some repairs which were necessary for the convent. When - they came, she made the nuns come into the chapel, and she said, - 'Now, my children, you know that we have nothing left, and we must - pray to our Master that He will send us something;' and she - herself, going up to the altar, began to talk to Our Blessed Lord - and to tell Him all her needs. 'Dear Lord,' she said, 'we have - nothing to eat, and I am just come to tell you all about it, and to - ask you to send us something; and I am in debt too, dear Lord. I - owe twenty-five scudi for your work; will you send it to me?' and - so she continued to talk to Our Blessed Lord, just telling Him all - she wanted. - - "At that moment there was a knock at the door, and a young man put - a paper into the portress's hand, only saying these words--'Pray - for the benefactor.' The portress brought the paper to the - Mother-General in the chapel, and she opened it and said,'My - children, give thanks; the Master has sent us what we asked for.' - It was the twenty-five scudi. Mother-General was not surprised. She - _knew_ that our Blessed Lord heard her, and she felt sure He would - answer her. Soon after the convent bell rang for the dinner-hour. - The nuns were coming downstairs, but there was nothing for them to - eat. The Mother-General said, however, that the Master would send - them something, and indeed, as they reached the foot of the stairs, - the door-bell rang, and a large basket of food was left at the - door, sent by some ladies in the neighbourhood. 'See how our Lord - has sent dinner to us,' said the Mother-General. - - "The Mother-General is an educated person, really indeed quite - learned, considering that in the time of her youth it was not - thought well to teach girls much, for fear they should learn - anything that is evil. - - "When the Mother-General was a young person, as Maria de Matthias - in Vallecorso, she was very worldly and gay. But she heard 'the - Venerable' (Gaspare del Bufalo) preach in Vallecorso, and, as he - preached, his eye fixed upon her, he seemed to pierce her to the - very soul. When she went home, she cut off all her hair except the - curls in front, and turned her gown inside out, and wore her oldest - bonnet. She thought to please our Lord in this way, and she - remained for seven years shut up in her father's house, but all - that time she was not satisfied, and at last she went to 'the - Venerable' and asked him what she was to do, for she wished to do - something for our Blessed Lord. And the Venerable said to her, 'You - must go to Acuto, and there you will be told what you must do.' She - had never heard of Acuto, but she went to a friend of hers, also - named Maria, and inquired where Acuto was, for she was ordered to - go there. The friend said she would go with her, and ordered out - her horse, but the horse was a wild horse,[250] and she did not - know how to ride it. Maria de Matthias, however, went up to the - horse and patted it, saying, 'You must not be wild, you must become - calm, because it is necessary that we should go to Acuto: you and I - have to go in obedience, and I cannot walk, for it is twelve - hours' journey.' When the Mother had thus spoken to the horse, it - became quite mild, and, hanging down its head, went quite gently, - step by step, and the Mother rode upon it. When they had gone - half-way, she wished that the other Maria should ride, and the - Mother got off, and Maria climbed upon a wall to mount the horse, - but with her the horse would not move an inch, and then Maria felt - it was not our Lord's will that she should mount the horse, and the - Mother continued to ride to Acuto. When they arrived, and the - Mother got off the horse, it became again immediately quite wild, - and when Maria attempted to touch it, it was in such a fury that it - kicked and stamped till the fire came out of the ground. - - "The priest of Acuto was waiting to receive the Mother, and she - remained there teaching a school. She believed at first that this - only was her mission, but in a short time the children began to - call her 'Mother,' and to ask her to give them a habit. The first - nun who received the habit was a little child of eight years old, - who is now Mother Caroline, Superior of the Convent at Civita - Vecchia. - - "The Mother-General often preaches, and she preaches so powerfully - that even the priests crowd to hear her. When the people see her - come forward to the edge of the altar-steps and begin to speak, - they say 'Hark! the great Mother is going to talk to us,' and there - is fixed silence and attention. She generally begins by addressing - them as 'Brothers and Sisters,' and then she teaches them. - - "The Mother-General cannot write. When she is obliged to write a - letter, she kneels down and kisses the feet of the Crucifix and - asks Our Lord to help her, and letters of hers which she has - written in this way, in the most beautiful hand, are preserved. - When there are no flowers for the altar she says, 'Our Master's - flowers are always blooming; He will send us some;' and that day - flowers come. - - "After her death Sister Caterina appeared three times to Sister - Filomena, and begged her to tell the Mother not to be troubled, for - that the Sisters would suffer yet for four months longer, and then - that they would have all that they needed. That day four months - Lady Londonderry gave us a house. - - "'The Venerable' left a prophecy that an English subject should - come to join his Order in Italy, and then go back to found the - female Order in England. When I took the veil, it was remembered - that the Venerable had said this. - - "Don Giovanni Merlini used to accompany 'the Venerable' on his - missions. 'The Venerable' used to say, 'Take care of Don Giovanni, - for he is a saint.' Don Giovanni is still living at the little - church of the Crociferi near the Fountain of Trevi." - -At this time my sister went frequently to see and consult Dr. Grant, the -Bishop of Southwark. She believed him to be quite a saint, and fancied -that he had the gift of healing, and she delighted to work for others -under his direction. But Esmeralda was always willing to believe in or -to find out saints of the nineteenth century. It was by Dr. Grant's -advice, I believe, that she went to visit a nun of saintly attributes -who lived near him, the Sœur Marie Anne. Of this visit she wrote: -"Sœur Marie Anne was quite full of canonizations and of all that was -going on about the Venerable Labre, because she said that, when she was -a child, she had once seen him as a venerable pilgrim, going through a -village, when the boys stoned him. She had been so struck, so _saisie_ -by his appearance, that she went up to him and said, 'Forgive me, but I -hope that you will not refuse to tell your name.'--'Labre,' he said, and -the name Labre had stuck by her to that day. She implored me to get up a -special veneration for the Venerable Labre, but I said that I really -could not, for he was _too_ dirty." - -In 1863, under the direction of her priests, and with the assistance of -many Catholic friends, Esmeralda had published a "Manual of the Dolours -of Our Lady," which she caused to be translated into almost every -language of Europe and to be disseminated among all its nations; this -she did through the medium of foreign converts. In her "retreats" and in -her religious life Esmeralda had for some years been brought nearer to -many of her former friends with the same interests, but especially to -Lady Lothian, Lady Georgiana Fullerton, and to a Miss Bradley, a recent -pervert to the Church of Rome. By them she had been induced to join the -society of "Les Enfants de Marie;" a society of persons united together -by special acts of devotion to the Virgin, and works of charity -conducted in her honour. In sorrow, faithfully borne, the beauty and -power of holiness had become hourly more apparent to Esmeralda. But she -could never join in the exaggeration which led many of these ladies to -invest the Virgin with all the attributes of our Lord Himself, as well -as with the perfection of human sympathies. I remember as rather -touching that when the Dowager Lady Lothian was writing to Esmeralda -about her son as being so "fearfully Protestant," she said, "It is very -trying to know that one cannot share one's thoughts with any one. I try -to make our dear Mother more my companion, but I am tempted sometimes to -remember how Our Lady, in all her sorrows, never can have had that of -anxiety about her son's _soul_. I know that she has it in and for us, -her adopted children, but she never can have felt it about Our Lord." - -From the devotion which Esmeralda felt to the Blessed Virgin followed -her especial interest in the Order of the Servites, who had lately been -established in London, and who always wore black in sympathy with the -sorrows of Mary. The very name had an interest for Esmeralda, derived as -it was from the special love shown to the Madonna by seven noble -Florentines, the founders of the Order, which induced the children to -point at them in the streets, saying, "Guardati i servi di Maria." For -the Servites Esmeralda never ceased to obtain contributions. - -Another confraternity in which my sister had entered herself as an -associate, together with Lady Lothian and most of her friends, was that -of "The Holy Hour"--first instituted by the beatified nun, Margaret Mary -Alacoque of Paray le Monial, a convent near Monceaux les Mines,[251] for -which her admirers, and my sister amongst them, had worked a splendid -carpet, to cover the space in front of her altar. The rules of this -society set forth that it "is established as a special manner of sharing -the agony of our Divine Lord, and of uniting in associated prayer for -reparation of insults offered Him by sin. The associates of this -devotion thus form a band of faithful disciples, who in spirit accompany -our Saviour every Thursday night to the scene of His agony, and share -more particularly that watch which Our Blessed Lady and the Apostles -kept on the eve of the Passion. With this end in view, the associates -spend one hour of Thursday evening in mental or vocal prayer upon the -Agony in the Garden, or other mysteries of the Passion." Thus every -Thursday night my sister repeated:-- - - "O Lord Jesus Christ, kneeling before Thee I unite myself to Thy - Sacred Heart and offer myself again to Thy service. In this hour - when Thou wert about to be betrayed into the hands of sinners, I, a - poor sinner, dare to come before Thee and say, 'Yes, Lord, I too - many times have betrayed and denied Thee, but Thou, who knowest all - things, knowest that I desire to love Thee, that I desire to - comfort Thee insulted by sin, that I desire to watch with Thee one - hour, and to cry before Thy throne, 'O Lord, remember me when Thou - comest into thy kingdom!' And therefore, with my whole heart, I now - promise before thee-- - - "When the mysteries of Thy life and Passion are denied: the more - firmly will I believe in them and defend them with my life. - - "When the spirit of unbelief, coming in like a flood, seeks to - quench our hope: I will hope in Thee and take refuge in Thy Sacred - Heart. - - "When blinded men obstinately shut their hearts to Thy love: I will - love Thee who hast shown me an everlasting love. - - "When the Majesty and power of Thy Divinity are denied: I will say - to Thee--day by day--'My Lord and my God!' - - "When Thy law is broken and Thy sacraments profaned: I will keep - Thy words in my heart and draw near to thy holy altar with joy. - - "When all men forsake Thee and flee from Thy ways: I will follow - Thee, my Jesus, up the way of sorrow, striving to bear Thy cross. - - "When the evil one, like a roaring lion, shall seek everywhere the - souls of men: I will raise Thy standard against them and draw them - to Thy Sacred Heart. - - "When the Cross shall be despised for the love of pleasure and the - praise of men: I will renew my baptismal vows, and again renounce - the devil, the world, and the flesh. - - "When men speak lightly of Thy Blessed Mother and mock at the power - of Thy Church: I will renew my love to the Mother of God, hailing - her as 'Our life, our sweetness, and our hope,' and will again give - thanks for the Church that is founded upon the rock." - -At my sister's house, I now, at least on one occasion, met each of my -brothers, but we never made the slightest degree of real acquaintance; -indeed, I doubt if I should have recognised either of them if I had met -him in the street. When my eldest brother, Francis, came of age, he had -inherited the old Shipley property of Gresford in Flintshire, quantities -of old family plate, &c., and a clear £3000 a year. He was handsome and -clever, a good linguist and a tolerable artist. But he had a love of -gambling, which was his ruin, and before he was seven-and-twenty -(October 1857) he was in the Queen's Bench, without a penny in the -world, with Gresford sold--Hurstmonceaux sold--his library, pictures, -and plate sold, and £53,000 of debts. After Francis was released in -1860, he went to join Garibaldi in his Italian campaign, and being a -brave soldier, and, with all his faults, devoted to military adventure -and impervious to hardships, he was soon appointed by the Dictator as -his aide-de-camp. He fought bravely in the siege of Capua. His especial -duty, however, was to watch and follow the extraordinary Contessa della -Torre, who rode with the troops, and by her example incited the Italians -to prodigies of valour. Of this lady Francis said-- - - "The Contessa della Torre was exceedingly handsome. She wore a hat - and plume, trousers, boots, and a long jacket. She was foolhardy - brave. When a shell exploded by her, instead of falling on the - ground like the soldiers, she would stand looking at it, and making - a cigarette all the time. The hospital was a building surrounding a - large courtyard, and in the centre of the court was a table where - the amputations took place. By the side of the surgeon who operated - stood the Contessa della Torre, who held the arms and legs while - they were being cut off, and when they were severed, chucked them - away to join others on a heap close by. There were so many, that - she had a heap of arms on one side of her and a heap of legs on the - other. The soldiers, animated by her example, often sang the - Garibaldian hymn while their limbs were being taken off, though - they fainted away afterwards. - - "When the war was over, the Contessa della Torre retired to Milan. - Her first husband, the Count della Torre, she soon abandoned; her - second husband, Signor Martino, a rich banker, soon abandoned - _her_. Lately she has founded a Society for the Conversion of the - Negroes of Central Africa, of which she appointed herself - patroness, secretary, and treasurer; and, obtaining an English - Clergy List, wrote in all directions for subscriptions. Of course - many clergy took no notice of the appeal, but a certain proportion - responded and sent donations, which it is needless to say were - _not_ applied to Central Africa." - -After the siege of Capua, Francis was very ill with a violent fever at -Naples, and then remained there for a long time because he was too poor -to go away. It was during his stay at Naples that he formed his -friendship with the K.'s, about which my sister has left some curious -notes. - - "When Francis first went to Naples, he had his pay, was well to do, - and stayed at the Hotel Victoria. Amongst the people who were - staying in the house and whom he regularly met at the - _table-d'hôte_, were an old Mr. K. and his daughter. Old Mr. K. was - a very handsome old gentleman and exceedingly pleasant and - agreeable; Miss K. was also handsome, and of very pleasing manners: - both were apparently exceedingly well off. After some time, the - K.'s went to Rome, where they passed some time very pleasantly. - When they returned, the siege of Capua was taking place, and it was - a source of great surprise to the Garibaldian officers to see the - father and daughter constantly walking about arm in arm with the - most perfect _sang-froid_ in the very teeth of the firing, shells - bursting all around them. The Garibaldians remonstrated in vain: - the K.'s remained unhurt in the heat of every battlefield, and - appeared to bear charmed lives. - - "Some time after, it transpired that the K.'s had no money to pay - their bills at the Victoria. They were much respected there, having - been there often before, but they could not be allowed to remain - without payment, so the landlord told them they must leave. They - went to another hotel, where the same thing happened. Then they - went to a lodging. - - "One day Francis met them coming down under the arch in the Chiaja. - He turned round and went with them to the Villa Reale. As they - went, Miss K. spoke of the great distress which was then prevalent - in Naples, and said that a _gentleman_ had just begged of them in - the street, and that they had nothing to give him. 'Before I would - be reduced to that,' she said, 'I would drown myself.'--'Yes, and I - too would drown myself,' said Mr. K.; but what they said did not - strike Francis till afterwards. When they reached the Villa Reale, - they walked up and down together under the avenue. Miss K. was more - than usually lively and agreeable, and they did not separate till - nightfall, when the gates of the Villa were going to be shut. - - "At two o'clock the next morning, Francis was awakened by the most - dreadful and vivid dream. He dreamt that he stood on the little - promontory in the Villa Reale, and that he saw two corpses bobbing - up and down a short distance off. The dream so took possession of - him, that he jumped up, dressed himself, and rushed down to the - Villa, but the gates were shut when he got there, and he had to - wait till they were opened at four o'clock in the morning. He then - ran down the avenue to the promontory, and thence, exactly as he - had seen in his dream, he saw two corpses bobbing up and down on - the waves a short distance off. He called to some fishermen, who - waded in and brought them to land, and he then at once recognised - Mr. and Miss K. They must have concealed themselves in the Villa - till the gates were closed, and must then have deliberately climbed - over the railing of the promontory, and then tied each other's - ankles and wrists, and, after filling their pockets with heavy - stones, leapt off into the sea. - - "Capua they had vainly hoped would destroy them. - - "Some time after Francis found that Mr. K. had once been - exceedingly rich, but had been ruined: that his wife, who had a - large settlement, had then left him, making him a handsome - allowance. A few days before the catastrophe this allowance had - been suddenly withdrawn, and Mr. K. with the daughter, who devoted - herself to him, preferred death to beggary." - -It may seem odd that I have never mentioned my second brother, William, -in these memoirs, but the fact is, that after he grew up, I never saw -him for more than a few minutes. It is one of the things I regret most -in life that I never made acquaintance with William. I believe now that -he was misrepresented to us and that he had many good qualities; and I -often feel, had he lived till I had the means of doing so, how glad I -should have been to have helped him, and how fond I might have become of -him. At Eton he was an excessively good-looking boy, very clever, very -mischievous, and intensely popular with his companions. He never had any -fortune, so that it was most foolish of his guardian (Uncle Julius) to -spend £2000 which had been bequeathed to him by "the Bath aunts," in -buying him a commission in the Blues. I only once saw him whilst he was -in the army, and only remember him as a great dandy, but I must say -that he had the excuse that everything he wore became him. After he left -the army he was buffeted about from pillar to post, and lived no one -knows where or how. Our cousin Lord Ravensworth was very kind to him, -and so was old Lady Paul; but to Hurstmonceaux or Holmhurst he was never -invited, and he would never have been allowed to come. I have often -thought since how very odd it was that when he died, neither my mother -nor I wore the slightest mourning for him; but he was so entirely -outside our life and thoughts, that somehow it would never have occurred -to us. He had, however, none of the cold self-contained manner which -characterised Francis, but was warm-hearted, cordial, affectionate, and -could be most entertaining. After his mother's great misfortunes he went -to Spain on some temporary appointment, and at Barcelona nearly died of -a fever, through which he was nursed by a lady, who had taken an -extraordinary fancy to him; but on his return, when it was feared he -would marry her, he took every one by surprise in espousing the very -pretty portionless daughter of a physician at Clifton. - -During the year 1864 I constantly saw my Lefevre cousins and found an -increasing friendship for them. Sir John always showed me the greatest -kindness, being full of interest in all my concerns. I consulted him on -many subjects, feeling that he was the only person I had ever known, -except my mother, willing to take the trouble of _thinking_ how to give -the best advice and perfectly disinterested in giving it: consequently I -always took _his_ advice and his only. His knowledge was extraordinary, -and was only equalled by his humility and self-forgetfulness. Many were -the interesting reminiscences of other days which he delighted to call -up--many the remarkable parallels he drew between present events and -those he remembered--many the charming stories he told me. One of these, -which has always struck me as very grand and dramatic, I have so often -repeated that I will make a note of it here:-- - - "Within the memory of those still living there resided in Madrid a - family called Benalta. It consisted of Colonel Benalta, a man of - choleric and sharp disposition; of his wife, Madame Benalta; of his - young daughter; of his little son Carlos, a boy ten years old; and - of the mother of Madame Benalta, who was a woman of large property - and of considerable importance in the society at Madrid. On the - whole, they were quoted as an example of a happy and harmonious - family. It is true that there were, however, certain drawbacks to - their being completely happy, entirely harmonious, and the chief of - these was that Colonel Benalta, when his temper was not at its - best, would frequently, much more often than was agreeable, say to - his wife, 'My dear, you know nothing: my dear, you know nothing at - all: you know nothing whatever.' This was very disagreeable to - Madame Benalta, but it was far more unpleasant to the mother of - Madame Benalta, who considered her daughter to be a very - distinguished and gifted woman, and who did not at all like to have - it said, especially in public, that she knew--nothing! - - "However, as I have said, on the whole, as Madrid society went, the - Benaltas were quoted as an example of a happy and harmonious - family. - - "One day Colonel Benalta was absent on military duty, but the rest - of the family were assembled in the drawing-room at Madrid. In the - centre of the room, at a round table, sat Madame Benalta and her - daughter working. At a bureau on one side of the room sat the - mother of Madame Benalta, counting out the money which she had just - received for the rents of her estates in Andalusia, arranging the - louis-d'ors in piles of tens before her, and eventually putting - them away in a strong box at her side. At another table on the - other side of the room sat little Carlos Benalta writing a copy. - - "Now I do not know the exact words of the Spanish proverb which - formed the copy that Carlos Benalta wrote, but it was something to - the effect of 'Work while it is to-day, for thou knowest not what - may happen to-morrow.' And the child wrote it again and again till - the page was full, and then he signed it, 'Carlos Benalta, Sept. - 22nd,' and he took the copy to his mother. - - "Now the boy had signed his copy 'Carlos Benalta, Sept. 22nd,' but - it really was Sept. 21. And Madame Benalta was a very superstitious - woman; and when she saw that in his copy Carlos had anticipated the - morrow--the to-morrow on which 'thou knowest not what may - happen'--it struck her as an evil omen, and she was very much - annoyed with Carlos, and spoke sharply, saying that he had been - very careless, and that he must take the copy back and write it all - over again. And Carlos, greatly crestfallen, took the copy and went - back to his seat. But the mother of Madame Benalta, who always - indulged and petted Carlos, looked up from her counting and said, - 'Bring the copy to me.' And when she saw it she said to her - daughter, 'I think you are rather hard upon Carlos, my dear; he has - evidently taken pains with his copy and written it very well; and - as for the little mistake at the end, it really does not signify; - so I hope you will forgive him, and not expect him to write it - again.' Upon which Madame Benalta, but with a very bad grace, said, - 'Oh, of course, if his grandmother says he is not to write it - again, I do not expect him to do it; but I consider, all the same, - that he ought to have been obliged to do it for his carelessness.' - Then the grandmother took ten louis-d'ors from the piles before - her, and she tore the copy out of the book and rolled them up in - it, and sealed the parcel, and she wrote upon the outside, 'For my - dear grandson, Carlos Benalta; to be given to him when I am dead!' - And she showed it to her daughter and her grand-daughter, and said, - 'Some day when I am passed away, this will be a little memorial to - Carlos of his old grandmother, who loved him and liked to save him - from a punishment.' And she put the packet away in the strong box - with the rest of the money. - - "The next morning the news of a most dreadful tragedy startled the - people of Madrid. The mother of Madame Benalta, who inhabited an - apartment in the same house above that of her daughter and - son-in-law, was found murdered in her room under the most dreadful - circumstances. She had evidently fought hard for her life. The - whole floor was in pools of blood. She had been dragged from one - piece of furniture to another, and eventually she had been - butchered lying across the bed. There were the marks of a bloody - hand all down the staircase, and the strong box was missing. - Everything was done that could be done to discover the murderer, - but unfortunately he had chosen the one day in the year when such a - crime was difficult to trace. As Mademoiselle Benalta was not yet - 'out,' and as the family liked a quiet domestic life, they never - went out in the evening, and the street door was known to be - regularly fastened. Therefore, on this one day in the year, when - the servants went on their annual picnic to the Escurial, it was - supposed to be quite safe to leave the street door on the latch, - that they might let themselves in when they returned very late. The - murderer must have known this and taken advantage of it; therefore, - though Colonel Benalta offered a very large reward, and though the - Spanish Government--so great was the public horror--offered, for - them, a very large reward, no clue whatever was ever obtained to - the murderer. - - "A terrible shadow naturally hung over the house in Madrid, and the - Benalta family could not bear to remain in a scene which to them - was filled with such associations of horror. By the death of the - poor lady, Madame Benalta's mother, they had inherited her estates - in Andalusia, and they removed to Cordova. There they lived very - quietly. From so great a shock Madame Benalta could not entirely - rally, and she shrank more than ever from strangers. Besides, her - home life was less pleasant than it had been, for Colonel Benalta's - temper was sharper and sourer than ever, and even more frequently - than before he said to her, 'My dear, you know nothing: you really - know nothing at all.' - - "Eleven years passed away, melancholy years enough to the mother, - but her children grew up strong and happy, and naturally on them - the terrible event of their childhood seemed now quite in the - far-away past. One day Colonel Benalta was again absent on military - duty. Madame Benalta was sitting in her usual chair in her - drawing-room at Cordova, and Carlos, then a young man of - one-and-twenty, was standing by her, when the door opened and - Mademoiselle Benalta came in. 'Oh, mother,' she said, 'I've been - taking advantage of our father's absence to arrange his room, and - in one of his drawers I have found a little relic of our childhood, - which I think perhaps may be interesting to you: it seems to be a - copy which Carlos must have written when he was a little boy.' - Madame Benalta took the paper out of her daughter's hand and saw, - 'Work while it is to-day, for thou knowest not what may happen - to-morrow,' and at the bottom the signature 'Carlos Benalta, - September 22nd,' and she turned it round, and there, at the back, - in the well-known trembling hand, was written, 'For my dear - grandson Carlos Benalta, to be given to him when I am dead.' Madame - Benalta had just presence of mind to crumple up the paper and throw - it into the back of the fire, and then she fell down upon the floor - in a fit. - - "From that time Madame Benalta never had any health. She was unable - to take any part in the affairs of the house, and scarcely seemed - able to show any interest in anything. Her husband had less - patience than ever with her, and more frequently abused her and - said, 'My dear, you know nothing;' but it hardly seemed to affect - her now; her life seemed ebbing away together with its animation - and power, and she failed daily. That day-year Madame Benalta lay - on her death-bed, and all her family were collected in her room to - witness her last moments. She had received the last sacraments, and - the supreme moment of life had arrived, when she beckoned her - husband to her. As he leant over her, in a calm solemn voice, - distinctly audible to all present, she said, 'My dear, you have - always said that I knew nothing: now I have known two things: I - have known how to be silent in life, and how to pardon in death,' - and so saying, she died. - - "It is unnecessary to explain what Madame Benalta knew." - -In later years, in Spain, I have read a little book by Fernan Caballero, -"El Silencio en la Vita, e el Perdono en la Muerte," but even in the -hands of the great writer the story wants the simple power which it had -when told by Sir John. - - * * * * * - -The winter of 1864-65 was a terribly anxious one at Holmhurst. My mother -failed daily as the cold weather came on, and was in a state of constant -and helpless suffering. I never could bear to be away from her for a -moment, and passed the whole day by the side of her bed or chair, -feeding her, supporting her, chafing her inanimate limbs, trying by an -energy of love to animate her through the weary hours of sickness, -giddiness, and pain. We were seldom able to leave one room, the central -one in the house, and had to keep it as warm as was possible. My -recollection lingers on the months of entire absence from all external -life spent in that close room, sitting in an armchair, pretending to -read while I was ceaselessly watching. My mother was so much worse than -she had ever been before, that I was never very hopeful, but strove -never to look beyond the present into the desolate future, and, while -devoting my whole thoughts and energies to activity for her, was always -able to be cheerful. Still I remember how, in that damp and misty -Christmas, I happened to light upon the lines in "In Memoriam"-- - - "With trembling fingers did we weave - The holly round our Christmas hearth; - A rainy cloud possess'd the earth, - And sadly fell our Christmas Eve." - -And how wonderfully applicable they seemed to our case. - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Holmhurst, Dec. 17, 1864._--How we envy you the warmth of Italy! - Had we known how severe a winter this was likely to be, we also - should have started for Italy at all risks, and I feel that I have - been _very_ wrong ever to have consented to the mother's staying in - England, though she seemed so weary of travelling and so much - better in health, that I could not believe the effect would be so - bad. The cold is most intense. After a month of wet, we have had - two days of snow with black east wind, and now it is pouring again, - but the rain freezes as it falls. - - "The dear mother is perfectly prostrated by the cold, and looks at - least twenty years older than in the summer. She has great and - constant pain, and trembles so greatly as to be quite unable to - feed herself, and she can do nothing whatever all day, so that she - is very miserable. Of course I am dreadfully and constantly anxious - about her, and the dread of paralysis haunts me night and day. I - need not say how sweet, and gentle, and uncomplaining my poor - darling is, but one can see she suffers greatly, and 'the pleasures - of an English winter,' which some of the family have always been - urging her to enjoy, consist in an almost total non-existence on - her part, and constant watching on mine." - -Gradually the consciousness came to all around her that the only chance -of my mother's recovery would be from taking her abroad. How I longed to -follow the advice given in "Kotzebue's Travels" when he urges us to take -pattern by our ancestors, who were content to sit still and read the -injunction in their Bibles, "Let not your flight be in the winter." Yet -this year even poor Lea, generally so averse to leaving home, urged us -to set off. Then came the difficulty of how to go, and where. We decided -to turn towards Pau and Biarritz, because easier of access than Cannes, -and because the journeys were shorter: and then there was the constant -driving down to look at the sea, and the discovery that, when it was -calm enough, my mother was too ill to move, and when she was better, the -sea was too rough. At last, on the 20th of January, we left home in the -evening. - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Bordeaux, Jan. 28, 1865._--I cannot say what a comfort it is, - amid much else that is sad and trying, to think of you safe at - Palazzo Parisani, in the home of many years, with the devoted - auntie and the two old domestic friends to share your interests and - sorrows and joys--so much left of the good of life, so much to gild - the memory of the past. I know how you would feel the return to - Rome at first--the desolate room, the empty chair, the unused - writing-table; and then how you would turn to 'gather up the - fragments that remain,' and to see that even the darkest cloud has - its silver lining.... No, you cannot wish your mother back. In - thinking of her, you will remember that if she were with you now, - it would not be in the enjoyment of Rome, of Victoire, and - Parisani, but in cheerless London rooms, with their many trials of - spirits and temper. _Now_ all those are forgotten by her, for - - 'Who will count the billows past, - If the shore be won at last'? - - "And for yourself, you are conscious that you are in the place - where she would have you be, and that if she can still be with you - invisibly, her life and your life may still be running on side by - side, and yours now giving to her unclouded eyes the pleasure it - never could have given when earthly mists obscured them. - - "I often think of Christian Andersen's story of the mother who was - breaking her heart with grief for the loss of her only child, when - Death bade her look into his mirror, and on one side she saw the - life of her child as it would have been had it remained on earth, - in all the misery of sorrow and sickness and sin; and on the other, - the glorified life to which it was taken; and then the mother - humbly gave thanks to the All-Wise, who chose for her, and could - only beg forgiveness because she had wished to choose for herself. - - "Do you know, my Esmeralda, that great sorrow has been very near me - too? My sweetest mother has been very, very ill, and even now she - is so little really better, that I am full of anxiety about her. - From the New Year she was so ill at Holmhurst from the cold and - snow, that it was decided that we must take the first available - moment for going abroad. But we were packed up and waiting for more - than a fortnight before her health and the tempests allowed us to - start. - - "Her passage on the 21st was most unfortunate, for a thick fog came - on, which long prevented the steamer from finding the narrow - entrance of Calais harbour, and the boat remained for two hours - swaying about outside and firing guns of distress every ten - minutes. These were answered by steamers in port, and the great - alarm-bell of Calais tolled incessantly. At last another steamer - was sent out burning red lights, and guided the wanderer in. My - poor mother was quite unable to stand from the cold and fatigue - when she was landed, and the journey to Paris, across the plains - deep in snow, was a most anxious one. During the three days we - spent at Paris, she was so ill that I had almost given up all hope - of moving her, when a warm change in the weather allowed of our - reaching Tours, where we stayed two more days. - - "Tours is a fine old town, and is the place where our grandfather - died. I saw his house, quite a palace, now the museum. We slept - again at Angoulême, a very striking place, the old town rising out - of the new, a rocky citadel surrounded with the most beautiful - public walks I ever saw out of Rome, and a curious cathedral. This - Bordeaux is a second Paris, only with a river like an arm of the - sea, and immense quays, full of bustle and hubbub, like the - Carminella at Naples." - - [Illustration: TOURS.[252]] - - - "_Hotel Victoria, Pau, Feb. 2._--On Monday we made the easiest move - possible from Bordeaux to Arcachon, a most quaint little - watering-place. The hotel was a one-storied wooden house, with an - immensely broad West-Indian-like balcony, in which three or four - people could walk abreast, descending on one side to the strip of - silver sand which alone separated it from the wave-less bay of the - sea called the Bassin d'Arcachon;[253] the other opening into the - forest--sixty or seventy miles of low sandhills covered with - arbutus, holly, and pine. Near the village, quantities of - lodging-houses, built like Swiss châlets, are rising up everywhere - in the wood, without walls, hedges, or gardens, just like a fairy - story, and in the forest itself it is always warm, no winds or - frosts penetrating the vast living walls of green. If the mother - had been better, I should have liked to linger at Arcachon a few - days, but we could not venture to remain so far from a doctor. Here - at Pau we live in a deluge: it pours like a ceaseless waterspout; - yet, so dry is the soil, that the rain never seems to make any - impression. Pau is dreadfully full and enormously expensive. I see - no beauty in the place, the town is modern with a modernised - castle, the surrounding country flat, with long white roads between - stagnant ditches, the '_coteaux_' low hills in the middle distance - covered with brushwood, the distant view scarcely ever visible. We - are surrounded by cousins. Mrs. Taylor[254] is most kind--really as - good-natured as she is ugly, and, having lived here twenty years, - she knows everything about the place. Dr. Taylor is a very skilful - physician. Edwin and Bertha Dashwood are also here with their five - children, and Amelia Story with her father and step-mother.[255] - - "Alas! my sweetest mother is terribly weak, and has hitherto only - seemed to lose strength from day to day. She cannot now even walk - across the room, nor can she move from one chair to another - without great help. We are a little cheered, however, to-day by Dr. - Taylor." - - [Illustration: AT ANGOULÊME.[256]] - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Pau, Feb. 12._--For the last two days my dearest mother's - suffering has been most sad, without intermission.... This evening - Dr. Taylor has told me how very grave he thinks her state, and - that, except for the knowledge of her having so often rallied - before, there is no hope of her precious life being restored to - us. God has given her back before from the brink of the grave, and - it might be His will to do so again; this is all we have to cling - to. Her weakness increases daily. She cannot now help herself at - all.... Her sweetness, her patience, the lovely expression of her - countenance, her angelic smile, her thankfulness for God's - blessings even when her suffering is greatest, who can describe? - These are the comfort and support which are given us. - - "I do not gather that the danger is quite immediate; the dread is a - stupor, which may creep on gradually.... I am always able to be - cheerful in watching over her, though I feel as if the sunshine was - hourly fading out of my life." - - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Pau, Feb. 14._--My last account will have prepared you for the - news I have to give. My sweetest mother is fast fading away.... Lea - and I have been up with her all the last two nights, and every - minute of the day has been filled with an intensity of anxious - watching. The frail earthly tabernacle is perishing, but a mere - look at my dearest one assures us that her spirit, glorious and - sanctified, has almost already entered upon its perfected life. Her - lovely smile, the heavenly light in her eyes, are quite - undescribable. - - "All through last night, as I sat in the red firelight, watching - every movement, it seemed to me as if the end was close at hand. - Her hymn rang in my ears--so awfully solemn and real:-- - - 'It may be when the midnight - Is heavy upon the land, - And the black waves lying dumbly - Along the sand; - When the moonless night draws close, - And the lights are out in the house; - When the fires burn low and red, - And the watch is ticking loudly - Beside the bed: - Though you sleep, tired out, on your couch, - Still your heart must wake and watch - In the dark room, - For it may be that at midnight - I will come.' - - When the Master does come, she will be always found waiting. Has - not my darling kept her lamp burning all her life long? Surely when - the Bridegroom cometh, she will enter into the kingdom. - - "I cannot tell how soon it will be. I have no hope now of her being - given back to me. It is a solemn waiting. Oh! my Esmeralda, when - you hear that the hour _has_ come, pity, pray for her unutterably - desolate son." - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Feb. 17._--There has been an unexpected rally. Two days ago, when - I was quite hopeless and she lay motionless, unconscious of earth, - Dr. Taylor said, '_Wait_, you can do nothing: if this trance is to - end fatally, you can do nothing to arrest it; but it may still - prove to be an extraordinary effort of Nature to recruit itself.' - And truly, at eight o'clock yesterday morning, after sixty hours - of trance, she suddenly opened her eyes, smiled and spoke - naturally. I had just left the room, when Lea called me back--'She - is talking to me.' I could scarcely believe it; yet, when I went - in, there my darling sat in her bed, with a sweet look of restored - consciousness and returning power. - - "It was like a miracle. - - "She remembers nothing now of her illness. She does not think she - has suffered. During the last night she says she was constantly - saying the seventy-first Psalm. Almost the first thing she said - after rallying was, 'I have not been alone: your Uncle Penrhyn and - your Aunt Kitty[257] have been here, supporting me all through the - night.' - - "Our nice simple little landlady had just been to the church to - pray for her, and, coming back to find her restored, believes it is - in answer to her prayers. - - "I did not know what the agony of the last three days was till they - were over. While they lasted, I thought of nothing but to be bright - for _her_, that she might _only_ see smiles, to prevent Lea from - giving way, and to glean up every glance and word and movement; but - to-day I feel much exhausted." - - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Pau, Feb. 21._--My darling has been mercifully restored to me for - a little while--a few days' breathing space; and yet I could not - count upon this even while it lasted; I could not dwell upon hope, - I could not look forward--the frail frame is so _very_ frail. I - cannot think she is given to me for long: I only attempt to store - up the blessings of each day now against the long desolate future. - - [Illustration: PAU.[258]] - - "Last Sunday week she fell into her trance. It lasted between sixty - and seventy hours. During this time she was almost unconscious. She - knew me, she even said 'Dear' to me once or twice, and smiled most - sweetly as she did so, but otherwise she was totally unconscious of - all around her, of day and night, of the sorrow or anxiety of the - watchers, of pain or trouble. A serene peace overshadowed her, a - heavenly sweetness filled her expression, and never varied except - to dimple into smiles of angelic beauty, as if she were already in - the company of angels. - - "But for the last sixteen hours the trance was like death. Then - the doctor said, 'If the pulse does not sink and if she wakes - naturally, she may rally.' This happened. At eight the next - morning, my darling gently awoke and was given back into life. This - was Thursday, and there were three days' respite. But yesterday she - was evidently failing again, and this morning, while Dr. Taylor was - in the room, the trance came on again. For ten minutes her pulse - ceased to beat altogether.... Since then she has lain as - before--scarcely here, yet not gone--quite happy--_between_ heaven - and earth. - - "I believe now that if my darling is taken I can give thanks for - the exceeding blessedness of this end. - - "Meantime it is again a silent watching, and, as I watch, the - solemn music of the hymns that my darling loves comes back to me, - and I repeat them to myself. Now these verses are in my mind:-- - - 'Have we not caught the smiling - On some beloved face, - As if a heavenly sound were wiling - The soul from our earthly place?-- - The distant sound and sweet - Of the Master's coming feet. - - We may clasp the loved one faster, - And plead for a little while, - But who can resist the Master? - And we read by that brightening smile - That the tread we may not fear - Is drawing surely near.' - - And then, in the long watches of the night, all the golden past - comes back to me--how as a little child I played round my darling - in Lime Wood--how the flowers were our friends and companions--how - we lived in and for one another in the bright Lime garden: of her - patient endurance of much injustice--of her sweet forgiveness of - all injuries--of her loving gratitude for all blessings--of her - ever sure upward-seeking of the will and glory of God: and my eye - wanders to the beloved face, lined and worn but glowing with the - glory of another world, and while giving thanks for thirty years of - past blessing, shall I not also give thanks that thus--not through - the dark valley, but through the sunshine of God--my mother is - entering upon her rest? - - "God will give me strength: I feel quite calm. I can think only how - to soothe, how to cheer, how to do everything for her." - - - "_Feb. 26._--It is still the same; we are still watching. In the - hundred and twelfth hour of her second trance, during which she had - taken no nourishment whatever, my mother spoke again, but it was - only for a time. You will imagine what the long watchings of this - death-like slumber have been, what the strange visions of the past - which have risen to my mind in the long, silent nights, as, with - locked doors (for the French would insist that all was over), I - have hovered over the pillow on which she lies as if bound by - enchantment. Now comes before me the death-bed scene of S. Vincent - de Paul, when, to the watchers lamenting together over his - perpetual stupor, his voice suddenly said, 'It is but the brother - that goes before the sister.' Then, as the shadows lighten into - dawn, Norman Macleod's story of how he was watching by the - death-bed of his beloved one in an old German city, and grief was - sinking into despair, when, loud and solemn, at three in the - morning, echoed forth the voice of the old German watchman giving - the hours in the patriarchal way--'Put your trust in the _Divine - Three_, for after the darkest night cometh the break of day.' - - "Last night the trance seemed over. All was changed. My sweetest - one was haunted by strange visions; to her excited mind and renewed - speech, every fold of the curtains was a spirit, every sound an - alarm. For hours I sat with her trembling hands in mine, soothing - her with the old hymns that she loves. To a certain extent, - however, there is more hope, more of returning power. Is it a - superstition to think that she began to revive when in the churches - at Holmhurst, Hastings, Hurstmonceaux, Alton, and Pau prayers (and - in many cases how earnest) were being offered up for her - restoration? - - "_Two_ P.M.--My darling has been sitting up in bed listening to - sweet voices, which have been singing to her; but they were no - earthly voices which she heard. - - "_Ten_ P.M.--She has just declared that she sees Ruth Harmer (a - good, sweet girl she used to visit, who died at Hurstmonceaux) - standing by her bedside. 'It is Ruth Harmer--look at Ruth Harmer,' - she said. But it was not a voice of terror; it was rather like the - apostolic question, 'Who are these who are arrayed in white robes, - and whence come they?' There has also been a time when she has - spoken of 'dear Holmhurst, _dear_ beautiful Holmhurst,' in the - most touching way." - - - "_Feb. 27._--She has fallen into a third stupor, deeper than the - others; there is no sign of breath, the heart does not beat, the - pulse does not beat, the features have sunk. I _alone_ now declare - with certain conviction that she lives. The shadows are closing - around us, yet I feel that we are in the immediate presence of the - Unseen, and that the good Ruth Harmer is only one of the many - angels watching over my sweetest one. Years ago she told me that - when dying she wished her favourite hymn-- - - 'How bright those glorious spirits shine,--' - - to be sung by her bedside; was it these words which she heard the - angels sing to her? Oh! my Esmeralda, are you praying that I may - endure while it is necessary to do everything for her, only so - long? How strange that the scene which I have so often imagined - should be in a country hitherto unknown, the only relations near - having been strangers before; yet the simple French people here are - very sad for us, and there is much sympathy." - - - "_March 10._--It has been many days since I have ventured to write: - it has been so difficult to say anything definite, with the - constant dread of another relapse, which we have thought must come - every day: yet I think I may now venture to write in thanksgiving - that my mother is restored to me from the brink of the grave. It - seemed _quite_ impossible that she could come back, as if she - _must_ enter the world on the portals of which she had been so long - resting. Doctor and nurse gave up all hope; and at last the nurse - went out, saying all must be over when she returned in three hours' - time. In those three hours the remedies began to take effect, the - dead limbs to revive, the locked mouth to open, the closed eyes to - see, the hands to feel. It had been a death-like trance of a - hundred and ninety-six hours altogether--ten days and nine nights. - She remembers nothing of it now, and nothing of the illness which - came before, but a gradual revival and awakening of all her powers - is going on. It has been less painful to her throughout than to any - one, and it is so still. - - "Dr. Taylor is made Sir Alexander. He and Lady Taylor have been - most kind to us--could not have been more so. It has been - interesting to see so much of her, the last survivor of our - father's generation in the family, and one who, living constantly - at Hurstmonceaux, was present through all the old family crises and - conflicts, which she narrates with much of sound sense and - observation. I shall hope to write down much of her recollections, - and shall begin in good earnest to collect the memorials of that - earlier family period, quite as curious in its way as many later - ones."[259] - - - "_Pau, March 27._--My sweet mother continues slightly better - certainly, but in a most fragile and harassing state of health. I - never feel happy in leaving her, even for half-an-hour. On some - days she is better and almost able to enjoy reading a few words, or - being read to a little: on others, as to-day, the trembling - increases to such a degree as to prevent her occupying herself in - any way. I need not say how beautiful are her faith and love, how - increasing the beatitude of her inner, her heavenly life. 'Oh, how - long it is since I have been at church,' she said last night. 'But - you are always at church in your soul, darling,' I said. 'Yes,' she - answered, 'that is the greater part of my day--meditation and - prayer, and in the night I say my hymns and texts.' On my birthday - she gave me a solemn blessing. Each day I watch her every look and - movement. Truly I feel as if the pulse of her life beat into mine. - She does not see many people, but our sweet little cousin Lady - Dashwood, Lady Taylor, and Lady Charles Clinton come occasionally. - - "Pau is the most unattractive place I ever was in, and it pours or - snows almost incessantly. The 'society' is small, good, and - uninteresting, and snubs the immense remainder of the Anglo-Pau - world with hearty goodwill. - - "For some days we have been very sad about dear Emma Leycester, who - has been terribly ill: at least I have been, for I think the mother - has scarcely taken in the great cause for alarm." - -I think the name of this most dear cousin, Emma Leycester (Charlotte's -much younger sister) has scarcely been mentioned in these memoirs, and -yet there was scarcely any one who had a tenderer place in our home life -and thoughts, or to whom we were more devoted. Perhaps the very fact of -omitting her shows how entirely she must have kept aloof from all family -squabbles and disorders, whilst rejoicing in all our pleasures and -sorrowing in all our griefs. She was never strong, and I always -recollect her as a semi-invalid, yet more animated and cheerful than -most people in strong health, and able, from the very fact of weakness -removing her from the general turmoil of all that was going on around -her, to give her full attention and sympathy to the things she could -participate in. Small in person, she was of a most sweet countenance, -with grey hair, a most delicate complexion, and bright eyes, full of -expression and humour-- - - "Her angel's face - As the great eye of heaven, shyned bright, - And made a sunshine in the shady place."[260] - -As a child, in her visits to Stoke and Lime, I was quite devoted to her, -and in the persecutions of my boyhood was comforted by her unfailing -sympathy. When at Southgate, the greatest pleasure of my London -excursions was that they sometimes ended at "Charlotte and Emma's house" -in Wilton Crescent, and that I often went to have tea with the dear -Emma, who was already gone to rest upon the sofa in her own little -sitting-room. When I was at Oxford she came to visit me there; and -latterly the loss of her own brother and sister had drawn this -sister-like cousin nearer to my mother as well as to myself. - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Pau, April 6, 1865_, 8 P.M.--I must write one little line of love - this evening: the sad news reached us two hours ago, and you will - know _how_ we are mourning with you. I had just a hope, and can - hardly feel yet that dearest Emma's sweet presence, her loving - tender sympathy and interest, are taken from us in this world: but - may we not feel that she is perhaps still near us in her perfected - state, and to you and to my darling mother even the visible - separation may be a very short one, it _can_ only be a few - years--long here, but like a moment to her, till the meeting again. - - "I am glad to think of you at Toft, and of her resting there, where - we can visit the grave. I feel so _deeply_ not being able to be - with you, or to do anything for you, as dearest Emma so often said - I should do for her, if you were taken from her. - - "The news came at tea-time. It was impossible to conceal it. The - mother had had a suffering day, and was utterly crushed. We put - her to bed at once, and very soon she literally 'fell asleep for - sorrow,' and I, watching beside her, heard her lips murmur, 'O - blessed are they who die in Thee, O Lord, for they rest from their - labours.'" - - - "_L'Estelle, April 8._--My mother continued so seriously ill up to - yesterday morning, that I was certain if she were not moved at - once, I must not hope she ever would be. Dr. Taylor declined to - take the responsibility, but I felt some one _must_ act; so I sent - for a large carriage, and had her carried down into it like a baby, - and brought off here, only two hours' easy drive from Pau. Before - we had gone six miles she began to revive, was carried to her room - without exhaustion, and to-day opens her eyes on a lovely view of - the snow mountains above the chestnut woods, with a rushing river - and the old convent of Bétharram in the gorge, which is a wonderful - refreshment after having lived in a narrow street, and seen nothing - but a white-washed wall opposite for eleven weeks. Already she is - better." - - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_L'Estelle, April 9._--You will have heard of our great sorrow.... - A week ago dearest Emma's fever passed and took the form of prayer, - which, as Charlotte says, 'flowed like a river.' Once she said, 'I - have been fed with angels' food; I did not _ask_ for it, I could - not, but I have _had_ it.' Her last resting-place is at Toft. - Charlotte was able to be present.... I feel that, though we have - many still to love, no one can ever fill the _same_ place in our - hearts." - -[Illustration: BÉTHARRAM.][261] - -During my mother's long illness at Pau, I naturally thought of nothing, -and saw scarcely any one, but her. In the last three weeks, however, -after her rally, and before the last alarm, I saw a few people, amongst -them very frequently Lady Vere Cameron, whose husband, Cameron of -Lochiel, had been known to my mother from girlhood. Through Lady Vere, -I was introduced to a remarkable circle then at Pau, which formed a -society entirely occupied with spiritualism. Most extraordinary were the -experiences they had to narrate. I have kept some notes of my -acquaintance with them:-- - - "_Pau, March 1865._--When I was at Lady Vere Cameron's, the subject - of table-turning was brought forward, and I then said that I had - been told that I was a medium, meaning merely with reference to - tables. We sat down to a table and it turned. Soon it began to rap - violently, and a scratching noise was heard underneath. This I - believe to have been owing to some ventriloquism on the part of - Ferdinand Russell, who was present, but it excited Lady Vere very - much. - - "Some days after I had a note from Lady Vere to desire that I would - come to be introduced to her 'particular friend,' Mrs. Gregory, at - a party in her own house. As I knew that Mrs. Gregory was a great - spiritualist and much occupied with the subject, I naturally - supposed that this desire to make my acquaintance was due to the - table-turning at Lady Vere's, and I went expecting to find a - séance. - - "But it was a large party, a great number of people whom I had - never seen before. Mrs. Gregory had the odd expression of always - looking for something behind her. She spoke at once of my being a - medium, and then said in an excited manner, 'But are you far - advanced? are you like me? when a friend is going to die, do you - see it written before you in letters of light _there_?'--pointing - into vacancy. 'No,' I said, 'certainly not: that never happens to - me.' Speaking of this afterwards to a Mr. Hamilton, he bade me - beware, for very unpleasant things often happened at Mrs. Gregory's - séances, or, if they did not happen, every one present believed - that they did--that hands appeared, &c.: that his cousin, Mrs. H. - of S., had received messages from her child who was dead: that - others also had received messages from their dead relations. The - meetings were always solemnly opened with prayer. - - "At Mrs. White Hedges' I saw Mrs. H. She said that she also was - certain that I was a medium, and asked whether I did not frequently - have messages from the other world. I said 'No,' and that I did not - wish to have any. 'What,' she said, with a look of great surprise, - 'you do not wish, then, for the regeneration of the world; for if - you did you would feel that it can only be brought about through - the instrumentality of spirits.'" - - - "_April 4._--At Lady Robinson's[262] I again met Mrs. Gregory, who - asked me to come on the 6th to help her to turn a table, and see if - I should receive any messages. I agreed to do so, understanding - that nothing more was intended than she said. Afterwards I sat by - Miss N. L., who said, 'I see that terrible woman has been getting - hold of you. Pray don't go. You don't know what you will see. Every - one who goes is beguiled by small pretexts till they see the most - appalling things. It can only be through the devil.' - - "Persuaded by Miss N. L., I went to Mrs. Gregory and said, 'Mrs. - Gregory, do tell me exactly what you expect to happen on Thursday, - because I do not wish to _see_ anything.' - - "'Oh, you are a coward, are you?' said both Mrs. Gregory and Mrs. - Alexander, who was sitting near her. - - "'Yes, certainly I am a coward about trifling with the - supernatural. It is not because I do not believe that spirits can - return from the dead, but because I do believe it that I would - rather not come, if you expect to see anything.' - - "'Well, I can only say that both seeing and receiving messages are - the greatest possible comfort to me: it is only that which keeps me - in my right mind,' said Mrs. Gregory. - - "I answered that I should dislike being upset for the ordinary and - practical duties of life by being led to dwell constantly upon the - supernatural. - - "'That is precisely what strikes me as the greatest advantage,' - said Mrs. Gregory; 'surely one cannot think too much of the other - world. To feel that spirits are constantly watching you, and - grieving or rejoicing over you, must surely tend to keep you from a - great deal of evil. I have known many infidels entirely converted - to a new and Christian life by what they have seen with me--Mr. - Ruskin, for instance. I asked Mr. Ruskin one day what he believed, - and he answered "Simply nothing." He afterwards came to my house - several times when I had séances, and then he took my hands, and - with tears in his eyes said, "Mrs. Gregory, I cannot thank you - enough for what you have shown me: it will change my whole life, - for because I have seen I believe." Mr. Pickersgill the artist was - another instance. Certainly hands often appear to me, but I like to - see them. If you had lost any one who was a part of your life, - would you not like to know that you were receiving a message from - those you loved? You need not be afraid of the messages I receive. - Just before I came here I received this message--"Keep close to God - in prayer." There was nothing dreadful in that, was there? Was not - that a beautiful message to receive. But sometimes the spirits are - conflicting. There are good and bad spirits. If the messages are - not such as we should wish, then we know the bad spirits are there. - All this is in the Bible, "Ye shall try the spirits, whether they - be good or evil." This is one of the means of grace which God gives - us: surely we ought not to turn aside from it.' - - "Afterwards I asked Lady Robinson her experience. She said that she - had been at one of the séances, but nothing appeared and 'the - Indicator' gave nothing decided. She said it was conducted most - seriously, with all religious feeling. She described Mrs. Gregory - as not only praying at the time, but living in a state of prayer, - and she believed that the messages were granted in answer to real - faith. She said quantities of people had seen the hands appear. - Mrs. Gregory had a very large séance at Sir William Gomm's in - London, and Lady Gomm asked for an outward sign before she would - believe. A bodiless hand then appeared, and, taking up a vase with - a plant in it from a china dish upon the table, set it on the - floor, and then breaking a flower from the plant, came and laid it - in Lady Gomm's lap: all the company saw it. - - "I told the Taylors what I had heard. Sir Alexander said that he - thought the chief good of such a clever physician as Mrs. Gregory's - husband (Dr. Gregory of the powders) appearing would be to write a - prescription for the living." - -While we were at Pau, my sister wrote much to me upon the death of -Cardinal Wiseman, to whom she was greatly devoted, and whom I have -always believed to be a most sagacious and large-hearted man. His burly -figure upon the sands at Eastbourne used to be very familiar to me in my -boyhood. I heard Monsignor Capel, who afterwards attained some -celebrity, preach his funeral sermon at Pau. - - "Thirty years ago," he said, "there were only six Catholic churches - in London; now there are forty-six. Then there were six Catholic - schools in London; now there are at least three in each of these - parishes--one for boys, one for girls, and one for infants. Then - there were only 30,000 Catholics in all England; now there are two - millions, one-ninth of the whole population of the country. Then - there were no religious Orders except the Jesuit Fathers, who had - lingered on from the Reformation, flying from one Catholic house to - another, and administering the sacraments in fear and trembling; - now there are in London the followers of St. Francis and St. - Dominic, the Passionist Fathers, the Redemptorists, and at least - twelve nunneries of English ladies. All this change is in a great - measure due to Cardinal Wiseman, the founder of the English - hierarchy. He entered on his labours in troublous times: with the - enthusiasm and love of splendid ritual which he imbibed as a - Spanish boy, with the ecclesiastical learning of Italy, with the - dogmatic perseverance and liberality which he drank in with his - English education. He chose as the title of his bishopric the see - of the last martyred English bishop, and he also thirsted for - martyrdom." - -These notes are curious as showing how the rapid growth of Catholicism -in England, which we Protestants are so unwilling to recognise, had -advanced under Cardinal Wiseman's leadership. - -At L'Estelle my mother daily revived, and was soon able to sit out on -the sunny balcony, for the valleys of the Pyrenees were already quite -hot, though the trees were leafless and the mountains covered with snow. -It was long, however, before I ventured to leave her to go beyond the -old convent of Bétharram, with its booths of relics and its calvary on a -hill. When she was stronger, we moved to Argelès, a beautiful upland -valley, whence excursions are very easy to Cauterets and Luz. -Afterwards we visited Eaux Chaudes and Eaux Bonnes; but though the snow -was too deep to allow of mountain rambles, the heat was already too -intense for enjoyment of the valleys. We had left Pau without a sign of -vegetation, and when we came back three weeks later, it was in all the -deadest, heaviest green of summer. So it was a great refreshment to move -at once to Biarritz, with its breezy uplands, covered with pink daphne, -and its rolling, sparkling, ever-changing sea, so splendid in colour. To -my mother, Biarritz was a complete restorative, and she was able there -to take up her drawing again, to enjoy seeing friends, and to enter into -the interests and peculiarities of the curious Basque country. - -[Illustration: BIARRITZ.[263]] - -We visited many of the Basque churches, which are always encircled -within by three galleries, except over the altar. These galleries are of -black oak. The men sit in the galleries, and the women below, and they -enter at different doors. In the churchyards the graves have all little -crosses or Basque head-stones with round tops, and they are all planted -with flowers. The houses all have wide overhanging roofs and external -wooden galleries. Bidart and Cambo are good specimens of Basque -villages. Bidart is a beautiful place on the road to S. Jean de Luz, -and has a church with the characteristic overhanging belfry and high -simple buttresses. A wide entry under the organ-loft is the only -entrance to the church. In the hollow below is a broken bridge reflected -in a pool, which is golden at sunset, and which, with the distant sea -and sands, and the old houses with their wooden balconies scattered over -the hillside, forms a lovely picture. Here I stayed one evening to draw -with Miss Elizabeth Blommart, an acquaintance we made at Biarritz -(afterwards our friend for many years), while my mother and Lea walked -on, and descended from the opposite hill upon the sands. We had often -been told of the treacherous waves of Bidart, but could not have -believed in danger--so distant, beyond the long reaches of sand, seemed -the calm Atlantic, glistening in the last rays of sunlight. To our -horror, when we had nearly finished our drawing, we looked up, and saw -my mother and Lea coming towards us pouring with salt water from cloaks, -bonnets, everything. They had been walking unsuspiciously on the sands -three-quarters of a mile from the sea, when suddenly, without any -warning, a great wave surrounded them. My mother was at once swept off -her feet, but Lea, with her usual presence of mind, caught her cloak and -rolled it round her arm, and plunging herself deep into the sand, -resisted the water and held her mistress till the wave receded, when -they made their escape. A few days afterwards an Englishman with his -little dog was walking in the Bay of Bidart; the man escaped, but the -dog was swept out to sea. - -Cambo is two hours' drive from Biarritz--a most pleasant watering-place -on a high terrace above the Nive, with pergolas of vines and planes, a -churchyard which is a perfect blaze of lilies and roses, and an -inn-garden which is full of lovely flowers. Close by is the opening to -the Pas de Roland, a grand little gorge where the Nive rushes through -the mountains--a finer Dovedale. A rocky path ascends by the side of the -stream and climbs a succession of steeps to _la roche percée_, through -which it passes to a little hamlet and old bridge. Eighteen miles -farther is S. Jean de Port, whence one can ride to Roncesvalles. - -[Illustration: THE PAS DE ROLAND.[264]] - -The whole of this Basque country is full of memorials of the Peninsular -War, the events of which in this district are wonderfully well described -in the novel of "The Subaltern." There are deep woods and glens which -ran down with blood; green lanes (as at Irogne) which were scenes of -desperate combats; tombs of English officers, as in the churchyard at -Bidart and in the picturesque mayor's garden between Bidart and -Biarritz, where a flat stone commemorating three English officers is to -be seen under the old apple-trees, overlooking a wide expanse of -country. The most dreadful slaughter was near the Negressa Station, -where the two armies, having occupied the ridges on either side the -lake, suffered frightful carnage. It might have been spared, but in both -armies it was then unknown that Napoleon had abdicated, and that peace -was proclaimed. Between S. Jean de Luz and the Behobia is a picturesque -old château, which was taken by the English after an easy siege, the -inhabitants having been forced to fly with such precipitation that -everything was abandoned, even the mail-bags which they had just seized -being left behind and the contents scattered about on the floor. The -first letter the English officer in command picked up was directed to -himself and from his own father! He took nothing from the house but a -Spanish dictionary from the library, but returning that way three weeks -afterwards, found it completely pillaged by the Spanish camp-followers. - -The peasantry of the Basque country are most interesting to talk to, and -it is strange that more should not have been said and written about -them, as their conversation is more full of ancient proverbs and -folk-lore than that of the inhabitants of any other part of France. I -remember an old Basque woman saying that her language was not only the -best, but far the oldest in the world--in fact, it was that which Adam -and Eve spoke in Paradise! - -Twice, while we were at Biarritz, I made excursions into Spain, crossing -the Bidassoa close to the Isle of Pheasants with intense interest. In -all the Spain I have seen since, there is nothing more utterly Spanish -than the tiny walled town of Fontarabia, with its wooden balconies piled -one above another, and its lookout over a blue estuary. Most striking -also is Passages--a land-locked bay of the sea with a very narrow -opening, which is passed on the way to S. Sebastian. - -[Illustration: S. EMILION CATHEDRAL DOOR.[265]] - -Our return journey to England in the late spring was very delightful. My -mother, in entire enjoyment of her marvellously restored health, and -delighting to drink in the full beauties of nature and antiquity, was in -no hurry to return to the turmoil of English life. We lingered -everywhere, making short half-day journeys, and spending quiet -afternoons sketching in the grass-grown streets of half-deserted cities, -or driving out in little carriages to grand old châteaux. Thus we first -saw S. Emilion, that marvellous place, where the buildings are so -mingled with the living rock, that you scarcely can tell where the work -of man begins, and where each sculptured cornice glows in late spring -with a glory of crimson valerian. In one of the quietest streets of -Poitiers, before a cottage door, we bought an old inlaid table, which is -one of the pleasantest memorials of our journey. At Amboise we stayed -several days in a most primitive but charming hotel, the vision of my -dear mother in which often comes back to me, sitting with her psalm-book -in a low room with white-washed walls and brick floor, and with a -latticed window looking out over the great river glistening in the -sunset. My mother liked and admired Amboise[266] more than almost any of -our thousand resting-places, and she delighted in the excursions to -moated Chenonceaux and to Chambord, where we and Lea had tea and -bilberry jam at a delightful little inn which then existed on the -outskirts of the forest. - -[Illustration: AMBOISE[265a]] - -On the 27th of May we reached Holmhurst. One of those curious incidents -which are inexplicable had occurred during our absence, and was narrated -to us, on our return, by our servants, neighbours, and by Mrs. Hale, -the wife of our Hastings doctor. During my mother's illness at Pau, two -of our maids, Alice and Jane Lathom, slept, according to their custom, -in one of the spare rooms to the front of the house. In the middle of -the night they were both aroused by three piercing terrible screams in -the room close to the bed. Petrified with horror, they hid under the -bed-clothes, and lay thus more dead than alive till morning. With the -first streak of dawn they crept down the passage to John Gidman's room, -roused him, and told him what had happened. He felt it was certainly an -omen that the death they expected had occurred; took the carriage and -drove down at once to St. Leonards to Mrs. Hale. Dr. and Mrs. Hale were -at breakfast when John Gidman arrived and sent in word that his mistress -was dead. When they went out, they found he had received no letter, but -had only an inward conviction of the event from what had happened. - -It was the same hour at which my mother, waking from her second trance -in her room at Pau, had uttered three long piercing screams in her -wandering, and said, "Oh, I shall never, never see my dear Holmhurst -again!" - -There is no explanation to offer. - - * * * * * - -We had much enjoyment of our little Holmhurst this summer and a constant -succession of guests. Amongst those who now came annually were Arthur -Stanley and his wife Lady Augusta. To my mother, Augusta Stanley was -always a very tender and dutiful niece, and to me a most kind cousin. -She rejoiced to aid my mother in acting as a drag to Arthur's -ever-increasing impression that the creed of progress and the creed of -Christianity were identical. Many people thought that such an intense, -almost universal warmth of manner as hers must be insincere, but with -her it was perfectly natural. She took the sunshine of court favour, in -which they both lived, quite simply, accepting it quietly, very glad -that the Royal Family valued her, but never bringing it forward. She was -indeed well worthy of the confidence which her royal mistress reposed in -her, for though the Queen wrote to her daily, and though she generally -came in to breakfast with several sheets in the large well-known -handwriting, not one word from them ever transpired to her nearest -relation or dearest friend. - -What Lord Beaconsfield called "Arthur Stanley's picturesque sensibility" -made him care more than Augusta about having royal (_i.e._ historic) -friendships, though he had less personal feeling than she had for the -illustrious persons who made them. He was, however, quite devoted to the -Queen, to her own personality, and would certainly have been so had she -been in any other position of life. The interests of Westminster made -him very happy, and he rejoiced in the duty which fell upon him of -preserving the Abbey as he received it, furious when it was suggested -that some of the inferior and ugly monuments might be removed, or that -the peculiar character of the choir (like a Spanish _coro_) might be -altered. Always more a lover of moral than of doctrinal, or even -spiritual Christianity, at this time he was beginning to be the victim -of a passion for heretics which went on increasing afterwards. The -Scotch were delighted with him: they thought he had an enthusiastic -admiration for their Church. But he almost equally admired all -schismatics from the Church to which he officially belonged, and was -almost equally interested in them, and if he could get any one with ever -so slight a taint of heresy to preach in the Abbey, it was a great -delight to him: he thought it was setting an example of Christian -liberality. - - * * * * * - -My sister left Rome with her aunt at the end of May (1865). At Pisa she -took leave of her beloved Victoire, who remained at her own house. When -she reached France, weakness prevented her intended visit to Paray le -Monial, whence the nuns sent her the following rules for the employment -of "The Holy Hour" in acts of reparation for insults offered to our Lord -by the sins of men:-- - - { Short acts.--"Lord, I believe, help - 1. Unbelief { thou mine unbelief." - { Faith.--"Lord, increase our faith," &c. - 2. Ridicule, mockery. Secret prayers for the scoffers. - 3. Irreverence.--Special reverence towards the Blessed Sacrament. - 4. Rash judgments.--Acts of reparation to the Sacred Heart. - 5. Unlawful opinion.--Silence upon things settled by authority. - 6. Careless life.--Act of offering morning and night against - frivolous and immoderate words and actions. - 7. Love of ease and pleasure.--Simple acts of mortification - and self-denial in the course of the day. - -Esmeralda was detained for some time by serious illness at Dijon, with -the strange symptoms which, three years later, attended her final -illness, and which were then inexplicable to all around her. On her -recovery, Madame de Trafford met her at Paris, and insisted that she -should follow her to her château in Touraine. Hence Esmeralda wrote:-- - - "_Château de Beaujour, June 1865._--You will have heard from Auntie - of our arrival in this fairy château.... I have heard much that is - wonderful, but what is most striking is to watch the perfect - simplicity of a life so gifted as Madame de Trafford's--the three - virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity, that faith which can move - mountains, and with it great humility. Madame de Trafford is deeply - interested in any details I give her of the last six years: she was - really attached to Mama. Here, in her château, she saw that Mama - was dying. She turned suddenly round to Mr. Trafford, who was here, - and said, 'Ah! elle va mourir--sortons.' She could not bear it, and - felt that she must go out into the open air. - - "We shall be in London some time next week, with endless affairs to - settle. I quite dread the lawyers' deeds, days and weeks of worry, - never ending and still beginning. - - "I think of you once more in your study, as if a new life were - given you, and dear Aunt Augustus in her arm-chair, and everything - bright and beautiful around you." - -Of this, her first visit to Beaujour, Esmeralda has left a few -remarkable notes. - - "_July 1865._--Madame de Trafford came off to receive us at Paris - as soon as she heard we were on our way. Then, when she heard I was - so ill at Dijon, she often telegraphed there four times a day to - Auntie, to the master of the hotel, to every one, so that they - thought at Dijon that I was quite 'une grande personage.' At last, - when I was better, we went to Beaujour. Madame de Trafford sent to - meet us at Blois, but not her own horses, because they were _trop - vifs_. It was a long drive, though we went at a great pace, for - Madame de Trafford had told the coachman he was to drive as fast as - possible. At last, in the avenue of poplars, the ruts were so deep - that I thought we should have been overturned. Beaujour is a large - square house with wings to it. Madame de Trafford herself opened - the door, with a handkerchief over her head. 'Ah! vous voilà,' she - said, 'c'est bien; il y'a longtemps que je vous attends.' - - "The lower part of the château is unfurnished and vast. This Madame - de Trafford considers to represent chaos, the chaos of nations. On - the upper floor, each room represents a nation. Where she considers - there is something wanting to the nation, there is some piece of - furniture wanting to the room. When she considers that a nation has - too much, the room is over-crowded. Thus in England, Canada, - Gibraltar, and Malta are _de trop_, but India she allows for. - - "For us she had a whole suite of rooms newly furnished. I had a - bedroom, boudoir, dressing-room, and bath-room, and Auntie had the - same. They contained every possible luxury. My bed was the most - delicious I ever slept in. Madame de Trafford's power of - second-sight had enabled her to see exactly what I liked best. - - "All morning we sat in Madame de Trafford's bedroom or mine, and in - the evening in the sitting-rooms. All day she talked of the future - of Europe. 'Je plane sur l'Europe,' she used to say; and, when she - was about to see anything--'Mon second être s'en va.' - - "Madame de Trafford is frequently in conflict with the devil. At - such moments she is perfectly awful--quite sublime in her grandeur. - She will repeat _sotto voce_ what he says to her, suggestions of - pride, &c.,--and then, raising herself to her full height, in a - voice of thunder will bid defiance to the evil spirit. She spoke of - the many things in connection with herself which made people say - she was mad, and said she did not feel it safe to have people to - stay with her in consequence. I told her that this would be quite - impossible, for that even in the week which I had spent with her, I - had seen much which others never ought to have the opportunity of - seeing and misjudging. She often spoke most severely of my faults, - and said that I lived too much for myself. 'Prenez garde,' she - said, 'que vous ne passiez pas par cette petite porte, que j'ai vue - une fois.' This was the gate of hell. She saw it in a most awful - vision--the judged souls, 'qu'ils baissent leurs têtes et passent - par cette petite porte.' - - "One day the Curé sent up word that the village procession was - coming to the gates of the château. On such an occasion an altar is - always expected to be prepared. There was a dreadful fuss and - hurry, but it had to be done. A foundation of barrels was covered - with coloured cloths, on this rose a higher platform, and on that - the altar. Workmen were immediately employed to dig up trees and - plant them around it, and Clémence was sent to the garden to dig up - all the lilies she could find. When the procession arrived, all was - ready and the people were delighted." - -During this and succeeding visits at Beaujour, Madame de Trafford -dictated many remarkable passages in her life to my sister. This she did -walking up and down the room, often with her eyes flaming and her arms -extended, as in a state of possession. At such times she would often -break off her narration and suddenly begin addressing the spirit within -her, which answered her in the strange voice, not her own, which -sometimes came from her lips. Some of the stories she narrated at these -times are of the wildest description, and are probably mere -hallucinations, but a vein of truth runs through them all; and her -complete biography, as I still preserve it, is a most curious document. -Almost all her stories are tinged by her enthusiasm for the Bonaparte -family, with whom she had some mysterious connection. They are mingled -with strange visions and prophecies, many of which have undoubtedly come -true, and her second-sight caused her to foresee, and in one case to -prevent, an attack on the life of Napoleon III. She was constantly -occupied in works of benevolence--in fact, her whole life was a contest -between good and evil. "On joue sur moi," she said, "ce sont les bons et -les mauvais esprits." Sometimes, when Esmeralda happened to go suddenly -into the room, she would find Madame de Trafford, with livid face and -glaring eyes, in horrible personal conflict with an evil spirit--"Prince -de cette terre, adore donc ton Créateur et ton Dieu." In a late Life of -Jeanne Darc, whose early existence amongst spiritual influences is much -like that of Madame de Trafford, Catherine de l'Armagnac, the great -friend of Jeanne, is described as resembling her, and the observation is -made that this extraordinary power remains in the Armagnac family -still. Madame de Trafford was _née_ Martine Larmignac (de l'Armagnac). -But it was not only in Jeanne Darc that there was a similarity to the -visions, the voices, the inspirations of Madame de Trafford: exactly the -same appears in the histories of St. Bridget, St. Catherine of Siena, -and Savonarola. The child-prophet Samuel also heard such voices calling -to him. - -In her "Life," Madame de Trafford says that she was brought up at -Saumur, where spirits surrounded and talked to her in her childhood. -When she was hungry, she believed that they brought her food. She was -starved and ill-treated by her nominal mother, but her nominal father -was kind to her. She always loved the poor, and they loved her. She once -stole a loaf to give to a poor family. She was dressed in the richest -child's frocks and lace till she was seven years old, then they were -taken away and poor clothes were given to her. In her solitary life at -Saumur she fancied that every one else like herself talked to -spirits.... - -To escape from a marriage with a French Count, and, as she believed, in -obedience to the spirits, Martine Larmignac went with the family of -Sharpe as governess to England. Here she eventually became the second -wife of Mr. Trafford of Wroxham Hall in Norfolk, but even then she never -expected happiness in her life. She said that a spirit announced to her -before her marriage, "Ton nom pour toi, ta fortune pour les autres, et -_tu_ ne seras jamais heureuse." She had two children by Mr. Trafford. -She foresaw the deaths of both by her second-sight, and had the agony of -watching the fatal hour approaching even when they were well and strong. - -During the Crimean war, Madame de Trafford went out to Constantinople -with some Irish Sisters of Charity. She was with them during the -earthquake which overwhelmed Broussa. At the moment when the Emperor -Nicholas is supposed to have died, she alarmed those who were with her -by starting up and in her fearful voice of prophecy exclaiming, -"Nicholas! arrête toi! tu n'est pas mort: tu as disparu." She always -maintained that the Emperor did not die at the time at which his death -was announced as having taken place. - -One day Madame de Trafford was sitting in her room at Paris, when the -spirit told her she was to go--not where she was to go, or why, but -simply that she was to set off. She caught up her bonnet and shawl and -bade her maid Annette (for she had servants then) to follow her. She -went out: she walked: she walked on till she arrived at the -railway-station for going to Lyons (Chemin de Fer de Lyon). She still -felt she was to go on, but she did not know whither, so she said to the -guard that she must pay for her ticket when she left the train, for she -could not tell where she should get out. She went on till the railway -came to an end, and the railway in those days came to an end at Toulon. -Then she got out and went to a hotel and ordered rooms for herself and -her maid Annette, and dinner--for they were famished after the long -journey. But still she felt restless: she was still convinced that she -was not in the right place. - - "J'avais arrêté un appartement pour une semaine, mais une voix me - dit, 'Pars,' et je savais qu'il y'avait du danger. Je fis appeler - la maîtresse de l'hôtel. Je lui dis, 'Je vous payerai tout ce que - vous voulez, mais je dois partir. Faites attendre dix minutes la - malle-poste pour Marseilles.' J'arrive à Marseilles fatiguée. Je me - repose sur un lit. Il faisait déjà nuit. J'appelais ma femme de - chambre et je lui dis, 'Je veux sortir.' Je sors. J'avance. Je - retourne. Ah, mon Dieu! qu'est ce que c'est? J'ai peur: je tremble: - je ne sais pourquoi. 'Annette, suivez-moi,' je dis. J'avance - encore. Je monte les rues étroites de Marseilles. J'arrête. Oh, mon - Dieu! qu'est que c'est que je vois--une _rue_! Je ne puis plus - avancer, mais qu'est que c'est cette rue? Je tourne: je monte la - rue en frémissant. 'Annette, suivez-moi.' J'arrête. Je vois une - maison--une fenêtre. La maison est fermée. C'est ici. Je mésure la - distance de cette maison à la maison vis-à-vis. Une, deux, trois, - quatre. La police me suivait. Ils soupçonnaient quelque chose, mais - je disais, 'Qu'est que c'est que cela--une maison, une fenêtre?' La - police entre dans la maison, dans cette fenêtre elle y trouva une - machine infernale. Napoleon était sauvé: il devait y passer le - lendemain." - -From her extraordinary powers of second-sight, supernatural gifts were -attributed by ignorant persons, and to her own great distress, to Madame -de Trafford. The poor around her, both in Touraine and at Paris, often -implored her to heal their sick, insisting that she could do so if she -would, for she had the power. - - "J'allais à la Madeleine un dimanche pour la messe. La fille de mon - cocher avait ête bien malade depuis longtemps. Je demandais à mon - cocher en descendant à l'église comment se portait sa fille. 'Elle - a demandé Madame de Trafford,' disait-il en pleurant, 'jusqu'à son - dernier moment.'--'Comment, Florimond,' lui dis-je, 'que voulez - vous dire?'--'Elle est morte,' disait il en sanglotant: 'elle est - morte hier à minuit.'--'Ah,' disais-je, et je descendais de la - voiture. 'Florimond, pourquoi ne m'avez-vous pas fait appeler?' - J'entrais à l'église, mais je ne pouvais rester tranquille. Je - sentais que je ne pouvais rester pour la messe, et je sortis. Je - remonte en voiture. 'Florimond, au grand trot,' lui dis-je, 'chez - vous.'--'Chez moi, Madame,' dit-il; 'ah, il est trop tard; ah, si - vous étiez venue plutôt, Madame, mais le pauvre enfant a déjà - changé,' et le pauvre homme pleurait; ah! combien il aimait cet - enfant. Nous arrivons. Je descends vite. Je monte. J'entre. J'ouvre - la porte. Déjà on avait placé un linceul sur le corps de la jeune - fille: on se preparait à l'ensevelir. La mère et la garde-malade - étaient dans la chambre. Je fis sortir la garde. J'approche le lit. - Je jette par terre chapeau et mantelle. Je lève le linceul. Ah! je - n'avais jamais vu un mort: je ne puis vous dire l'effêt que cela me - fit. Déjà depuis si peu d'heures! Il avait treize heures qu'elle - était morte, et les levres étaient serrées: tout le contour de la - bouche était décoloré. Je m'approchais. 'Seigneur,' dis-je, 'je ne - vous ai rien demandé jusqu'à ce jour: je vous demande aujourd'hui - la vie de cet enfant. Oh, Seigneur, c'est la fille unique, rendez - donc, je vous en supplie, rendez donc cette fille à sa mère.' Alors - une voix d'un mauvais esprit me dit, 'Tu peux rendre la vie: tu as - le pouvoir.' Mais je répondis, 'Moi, je ne puis rien, je ne suis - rien; mais, Seigneur, vous avez le pouvoir, vous seul pouvez tout; - rendez donc, je vous supplie, rendez donc cette fille à sa mère.' - Je passais la main sur la figure de l'enfant: je le prends par la - main. 'Lève-toi,' lui dis-je, et la jeune fille se levait en - sursaut! mais ses yeux étaient encore fermés, et tout doucement - elle dit ces paroles, 'Madame T.. r.. a.. fford.. je.. vais.. - dormir.' Les couleurs revenaient tout doucement dans ses joues. Je - me retournais à la mère: 'Votre fille dormait,' dis-je. Je quittais - la maison. Je commandais qu'on lui donnait à manger. 'Florimond,' - dis-je à mon cocher, 'vous pouvez monter: votre fille n'est pas - morte--elle dort.' Je quittais Paris sur-le-champ."[267] - -The generosity of Madame de Trafford knew no bounds. Once she went to -Bourges. She arrived at the hotel and ordered dinner. The waiter said -dinner could not be ready for an hour. She asked what she could do to -occupy the hour. The man suggested that she could visit the cathedral. -She said she had often seen the cathedral of Bourges: "what else?" The -man suggested the convent of Ursuline nuns on the other side of the -street. "Yes," she said, she was much interested in education, she was -much interested in Ursuline nuns--she would go to them. - -A nun showed her everything, and she expressed herself much pleased; but -the nun looked very sad and melancholy, and at last Madame de Trafford -asked her what made her look so miserable. "Oh," said the nun, "it is -from a very peculiar circumstance, which you, as a stranger, could not -enter into."--"Never mind," said Madame de Trafford, "tell me what it -is?"--"Well," said the nun, "since you insist upon knowing, many -convents were founded in the Middle Ages by persons who had very -peculiar ideas about the end of the world. They believed that the world -could not possibly endure beyond a certain number of years, and they -founded their institutions with endowments to last for a time which they -believed to be far beyond the possible age of the world. Now our convent -was founded on that principle, and the time till which our convent was -founded comes to an end to-morrow. To-morrow there are no Ursuline nuns -of Bourges: to-morrow we have no convent--we cease to exist."--"Well," -said Madame de Trafford, "but is there no other house you could have, -where you could be re-established?"--"Oh, yes," said the nun, "there is -another house to be had, a house on the other side of the street, which -would do very well for a convent, but to establish us there would cost -£3000. We are under vows of poverty, we have no money, so it is no use -thinking about it."--"Well," said Madame de Trafford, "if you can have -the house, it is a very fortunate circumstance that Mr. Trafford sent me -a bill for £3000 this morning: there it is. You can have your convent." -This story my sister had from the nuns of Bourges: it was her -second-sight of the trouble overhanging them which had taken Madame de -Trafford to Bourges. - -Amongst the most extraordinary of the dictations of Madame de Trafford -are those which state that she was really the person (accidentally -walking and botanising on those mountains) who appeared out of a dense -fog to the two children of La Salette, and whom they took for a vision -of the Virgin. - -People who have heard our histories of Madame de Trafford have often -asked if I have ever seen her myself. I never did. The way in which I -have been brought nearest to her was this. One day I had gone to visit -Italima and Esmeralda at their little lodging in Chester Terrace, in the -most terrible time of their great poverty. I was standing with my sister -in the window, when she said, "Oh, how many people there are that I knew -in the world who would give me five pounds if they knew _what_ it would -be to me now. Oh, how many people there are that would do that, but they -never think of it." Esmeralda thought no one was listening, but Italima, -who was sitting on the other side of the room, and who was then in the -depths of her terrible despair, caught what she was saying, and -exclaimed, "Oh, Esmeralda, that is all over; no one will ever give you -five pounds again as long as you live." - -Three days after I went to see them again. While I was there, the -postman's knock was heard at the door, and an odd-looking envelope was -brought up, with a torn piece of paper inside it, such as Madame de -Trafford wrote upon. On it were these words: "As I was sitting in my -window in Beaujour this morning, I heard your voice, and your voice -said, 'Oh, how many people there are that I knew in the world who would -give me five pounds if they knew what it would be to me now! Oh, how -many people there are that would do that, but they never think of it.' -So I just slipped this five-pound note into an envelope, and here it -is." And in the envelope was a five-pound note. - -"J'étais là; telle chose m'advint." I was present on both these -occasions. I was there when my sister spoke the words, and I was there -when the letter came from Madame de Trafford sending the five-pound -note, and repeating not only my sister's words, but the peculiar form of -reduplication which she so constantly used, and which is so common in -Italy when it is desired to make a thing emphatic. - -Esmeralda spent the greater part of the summer at Mrs. Thorpe's, where I -frequently visited her. She was soon deep in affairs of every kind, far -too much for her feeble frame, as she added incessant religious work to -her necessary legal worries. She would go anywhere or bear anything in -order to bring over any one to the Roman Catholic Church, and was -extraordinarily successful in winning converts. Her brother William had -already, I think, been "received," and her little sister-in-law, Mrs. -William Hare, was "received" about this time. Esmeralda's most notable -success, however, had been in the case of Mr. and Mrs. T. G. When she -was living in Sloane Street, she heard accidentally that Mrs. G. was -wavering in her religious opinions. Esmeralda did not know her, but she -drove immediately to her house at ten o'clock in the morning, and by -four o'clock that afternoon not only Mrs. G., but her husband, had been -received into the Roman Catholic Church. - -Still, Esmeralda never believed that all those who were without the pale -of her own Church would be lost. She felt certain of the salvation of -every soul that had died in union with God by the indwelling of the Holy -Ghost. - -Amongst the persons whom I frequently saw when staying with my sister -were the singular figures, in quaint dress with silver ornaments, with -long hair, and ever booted and spurred as cavaliers, who were known as -the Sobieski Stuarts. Their real names were John Hay Allan and Charles -Stuart Allan, but my sister recognised them by the names they gave -themselves--John Sobieski Stolberg Stuart and Charles Edward Stuart. I -believe that they had themselves an unfailing belief in their royal -blood. Their father was said to be the son of Charles Edward Stuart and -Louise of Stolberg, Countess of Albany, born at Leghorn in 1773. Fear of -"the King of Hanover" was described as the reason for intrusting him as -a baby to Admiral Allan, whose frigate was off the coast. Allan brought -up the boy as his own, and he lived to marry an English lady and leave -the two sons I have mentioned. The elder brother died in 1872, and the -younger on board a steamer off Bordeaux on Christmas Eve, 1880. - -Upon her return to England, Esmeralda found in completion the beautiful -monument which she had caused to be erected to her mother in the -Catholic Cemetery at Kensal Green. It represents "Our Lady of -Sorrows"--a figure of life-size, seated under a tall marble cross, from -which the crown of thorns is hanging. - -From Esmeralda's private meditations of this summer I extract:-- - - "_July 15, 1865._--Ask for the gift to sorrow only for our Blessed - Lord's sake, that truly we may share the divine sorrow of His - Blessed Mother, and mingle our tears with hers on Calvary at the - foot of the cross." - - - "_August 20, 1865._--Ask for the grace of filial love. Strive to - overcome all evil inclinations that are an impediment to filial - love, amongst which one of the chief is self-conceit. Make acts of - reparation for all the selfconceit of past life. When thoughts of - self-conceit enter, let us shut the gates of our hearts against - them, and make an act of profound humility and sorrow, seeing our - own nothingness and baseness. We must seek for filial love by - laying aside all confidence in self, and placing all our confidence - in God alone; for all that proceeds from ourselves is corrupt, and - our best actions have no merit unless performed solely for God's - greater glory, without regard to ourselves." - - - "_August 27, 1865._--Lay at the foot of the cross all secret doubts - of God's guidance. It is this secret instinct which is one of the - great hindrances to the reign of Jesus in our souls. Let us make an - act of the will--'Lord, I believe that Thou lovest to make the - souls of men Thy tabernacle; help Thou mine unbelief. I believe - that Thou lovest me, in spite of my unworthiness and infidelity. I - am blind and poor and naked; I have nothing of myself to offer Thee - but what is corrupt and evil, but Thou hast given me by inheritance - all the poverty and humility of Thy Blessed Mother, all her - sorrows,--and these I offer Thee--Thy gift I give back to Thee. O - my Lord, let me learn to know Thee more and more.'" - -END OF VOL. II. - -_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - -_Edinburgh and London_ - - - - -THE STORY OF MY LIFE - -VOL. III - -[Illustration: Anne F. M. L. Hare] - -From a portrait by Swinton.] - - - - -THE STORY OF - -MY LIFE - -BY - -AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE - -AUTHOR OF "MEMORIALS OF A QUIET LIFE," - -"THE STORY OF TWO NOBLE LIVES," - -ETC. ETC. - - -VOLUME III - - -LONDON -GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD - -1896 - -[_All rights reserved_] - -_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - -_At the Ballantyne Press_ - - - - - CONTENTS - - PAGE - - ENGLISH PLEASURES AND ROMAN TRIALS 1 - LAST YEARS OF ESMERALDA 233 - THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CONSPIRACY 273 - LAST YEARS WITH THE MOTHER 314 - INDEX TO VOLS. I., II. AND III. 421 - - - - -LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - -VOL. III - - - ANNE F. M. L. HARE. _From Swinton._ (_Photogravure_) _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - THE CORONATION CHAIR, WESTMINSTER 4 - BAMBOROUGH CASTLE 9 - THE SUNDIAL GARDEN, FORD 12 - THE FOUNTAIN, FORD 13 - FORD CASTLE, THE TERRACE 28 - ELIZABETH, LADY STUART DE ROTHESAY. _From a miniature_ - _by Miss A. Dixon._ (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 32 - THE PASS OF BRACCO 52 - AT PORTO VENERE 53 - LA SPINA, PISA 62 - CONTADINA, VALLEY OF THE SACCO 99 - THE BRIDGE OF AUGUSTUS, NARNI 101 - THE MEDIÆVAL BRIDGE, NARNI 102 - VIEW FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS, FLORENCE 104 - HOLMHURST, FROM THE GARDEN 108 - LADY AUGUSTA STANLEY. (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 110 - ALTON BARNES CHURCH 111 - BODRYDDAN 124 - S. REMY 137 - FROM MAISON S. FRANÇOIS, CANNES 138 - BOCCA WOOD, CANNES 140 - MAISON S. FRANÇOIS, CANNES 141 - MARIA HARE. (_Line engraving_) _To face_ 142 - CAGNES 145 - ANTIBES 147 - LE PUY 150 - ROYAT 151 - IN THE DEAN'S GARDEN, CANTERBURY 156 - ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, DEAN OF WESTMINSTER. (_Photogravure_) - _To face_ 158 - COURTYARD, DEANERY, WESTMINSTER 160 - PALACE GARDEN, PETERBOROUGH 163 - FONTAINES 184 - ARC DE S. CESAIRE, ALISCAMPS, ARLES 185 - AT SAVONA 186 - SESTRI 189 - CASTLE OF ESTE 227 - PETRARCH'S TOMB, ARQUA 230 - TOMB OF THE COUNT OF CASTELBARCO, VERONA 231 - ESMERALDA'S GRAVE 271 - MARY STANLEY. (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 282 - JOIGNY 316 - PORTE D'ARROUX, AUTUN 321 - FORD CASTLE, THE LIBRARY 325 - BAR-LE-DUC 334 - BRIDGE OF BAR-LE-DUC 335 - MANTUA 337 - VICENZA 339 - VICENZA FROM MONTE BERICO 340 - THE PRATO DELLA VALLE, PADUA 341 - SIENA 342 - S. GEMIGNANO 343 - THE HÔTEL DE LONDRES DURING THE FLOOD 349 - S. ANTONIO, PISA, DURING THE FLOOD 355 - VIEW FROM THE VIA GREGORIANA 361 - NEMI 369 - TIVOLI 371 - BRACCIANO 375 - GRAVE OF AUGUSTUS W. HARE, ROME 377 - FROM THE LOGGIA DEI LANZI 379 - PIAZZA S. DOMENICO, BOLOGNA 381 - CLUNY 384 - CLOISTER OF FONTENAY 385 - ST. MARTIN'S, CANTERBURY 394 - HENRY ALFORD, DEAN OF CANTERBURY. (_Photogravure_) - _To face_ 394 - THE CHURCH LANE, HURSTMONCEAUX 410 - - - - -XII - -ENGLISH PLEASURES AND ROMAN TRIALS - - "The holidays of joy are the vigils of sorrow."--_Proverb._ - - "Dear friend, not every herb puts forth a flower; - Nor every flower that blossoms fruit doth bear; - Nor hath each spoken word a virtue rare; - Nor every stone in earth its healing power." - --_Folgore da San Gemignano._ - - "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, - Old Time is still a-flying, - And this same flower that smiles to-day - To-morrow will be dying."--HERRICK. - - -We were for some time at the Deanery at Westminster in the summer of -1865. I think it was then that Archbishop Manning's consecration took -place. I heard much about it, though I was not there. Manning looked -like the white marble statue of a saint, especially when the -consecration was over and he moved slowly down the church, giving the -benediction. Newman was there also, and looked even more statuesque -still. Wonderful was the selfcontrolling power which both these priests -had. Many years before, as the Stanleys were going into St. Margaret's, -there was a scuffle, and a huge black cat was driven out of the church. -No one thought any more about it, and nobody saw any more of it, till, -just as Newman was coming forward within the altar-rail, and was in the -act of reading the Communion Service, the black cat sprang from one of -the rafters of the roof, and came crashing down upon him, falling upon -the hem of his white surplice. Newman's face never changed a muscle, and -quietly, reverently, and slowly he went on reading the service without -moving: but it must have seemed like a demon.[268] - -During this visit to London I frequently saw, at the house of Lady -Franklin (widow of the Arctic voyager) the gentle and pleasing Queen -Dowager (Emma) of the Sandwich Islands.[269] Her complexion was -copper-coloured, but she was very good-looking, and simply but -handsomely attired in the dress of an English widow lady. She had -greatly looked forward to the fogs of England, having been used to -nothing but the blue or copper-coloured sky of the Pacific, and was -dreadfully disappointed when she saw the resplendent blue sky of the -glorious day on which she arrived at Southampton. "Why, I might just as -well have been in the Sandwich Islands." She went over Westminster Abbey -with far more knowledge of the tombs and persons they commemorate than I -have seen in European royalties with whom I have visited the Abbey in -later days. In stepping back to allow the Queen to inspect the -Coronation Chair, my mother had a bad fall on the pavement of Edward the -Confessor's Chapel, and the concern and amiability she showed made her -very attractive. - -Mr. Evans, of St. Andrew's, Wells Street, preached in Westminster Abbey -at the evening service whilst we were at the Deanery. He preached on the -destruction of the Temple, applying it to Westminster--that we were not -to be taken in by "the grandeur of the building, the solemn distances of -the choir, the misty shadows of the roof, the windows by painters who -dipped their pencils in the rainbow," &c. He described the different -Jewish temples; the first, rising from the heart of David and the hand -of Solomon; the second, of Zerubabel; the third built by Herod, and -"certainly _he_ was no saint." - -[Illustration: THE CORONATION CHAIR, WESTMINSTER.[270]] - -After the sermon was over I rushed upstairs, and was preaching it to the -family with all its quaintnesses, when I saw Mary Stanley making most -unaccountable faces, and turning round, I found Mr. Evans close behind -me. The little dark figure had hirpled itself into the room and was -listening all the time. - -Madame Mohl (whom I have described at Paris in 1858) was staying at the -Deanery, where Arthur and Augusta were very fond of her, and always -called her "Molina." She was most amusing. - - "When I was leaving Paris, I asked my friend M. Bourdon whether I - could take anything to England for him, and he said that he was - obliged to me, and that if I would take a very valuable Indian - shawl, he would avail himself of my offer. However, before I left - Paris, my little friend Barbara was starting for England, and she - said to me that part of her box was empty, and that she could take - anything I wanted, so I was very glad to give her M. Bourdon's - Indian shawl. Now Barbara was in that dreadful accident at - Staplehurst, and so were all her boxes, and when the train went - over, the boxes went down into the water, and all the things were - spoilt. At first I hoped it was not so bad, but 'the fact is that - the shawl _is_ spoilt,' wrote Barbara to me, and ever since that M. - Bourdon and I have been _en froid_, which I am very sorry for, as - we used to be such good friends." - - "Oh, that will soon pass," I said. - - "No, I am afraid it will _not_," said Madame Mohl, "for remember we - are _en froid_, not merely _en delicatesse_. Being _en delicatesse_ - is easily remedied. 'Je suis en delicatesse avec maman,' said a - young lady to me.... A little while ago I went to see the famous - author Jules Janin. He could not attend to me. He was sitting at a - table covered with papers and was writing notes. Messengers went - off with the notes, and almost immediately came back with the - answers, which were evidently written a very short distance off. - This went on for some time, till at last Jules Janin looked up and - said, 'Je vous demande mille pardons: faites bien d'excuses, - Madame: c'est que je suis en delicatesse avec ma femme.'" - -One day Madame Mohl told me:-- - - "There was a handsome young woman married to a man who was in her - own, which was a very lowly station of life, but after her marriage - she consented to go a journey by sea with a family which she had - previously lived with. On the way the ship was wrecked, and she was - one of the few persons saved. It was a desolate coast, and one of - the officers who was saved with her fell in love with her--she was - a very pretty young woman--and married her. Eventually they - returned to England, and he died, leaving her a very fine place and - a large fortune. Some years after, her favourite maid told her that - she was going to be married, and, being attached to her maid, she - desired her to bring her betrothed that she might see what he was - like. When he came in, she recognised her own first husband. He did - not know her again, but going upstairs, she put on an old shawl, - and coming down said, 'Do you remember that shawl?'--'Yes,' he - said, 'it is the shawl which I gave to my wife on our - wedding-day.' Then the lady revealed herself and took her husband - back; but he was a low man, and led her an awful life and drank - dreadfully; but on the whole that was a good thing perhaps, for it - soon brought on delirium tremens, so that he died and she got rid - of him. 'What a fool she was ever to let him know who she was!' was - what I felt when I heard the story." - - "Well, I suppose she wanted to save her maid from marrying a man - who was married already," I said; "it would have been very wrong if - she had not." - - "So the Bishop of Winchester seemed to think," said Madame Mohl, - "for he was there when the story was told, and he was very much - shocked and very grave, and he said, 'I think, Madame, that you - should recollect our life is only a railway, and that it does not - signify so much if we are comfortable in the railway, as at the - home to which we are going.' But I told him I would rather be - comfortable in the railway as well, and that I would certainly not - have been such a fool--and the Bishop of Winchester thought I was a - very wicked person." - -In August and September my mother was very well, and had a succession of -visitors, so that I was able to be away from her. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Hallingbury, August 10, 1865._--The Archer Houblons' carriage met - me at Bishop Stortford. This is a great red brick house in a large - park, comfortable inside, but perfectly filled with _oggetti_--too - many things. The country round is dull, except 'the forest,' - Hatfield Broadoake, which is a grand possession for a private - family--eight miles of green glades, old oaks, gnarled thorn-trees, - and a small lake." - - - "_Mainsforth, August 13._--I went to Cambridge on Friday, and saw - the dear Hurstmonceaux Rectory pictures, which no one seemed to - admire as we did, and the Hurstmonceaux books in Trinity College - Library, where nobody ever reads them. I dined with the Public - Orator, and the next day went to Ely.... The Cathedral is - beautifully situated, a green sloping lawn with fine trees on one - side, and it stands in a group of picturesque and venerable - buildings--Deanery, Palace, and Grammar-school." - - - "_Bamborough Castle, August 19._--My mother will be well able to - imagine me in this old castle: it is such a pleasure that she knows - it all. As we drove up the hill, I could see dear old Mrs. Liddell - sitting in her usual place in the great window of the - Court-room.... I walked till dinner with Mr. Liddell on those - delicious open sands, fitful gleams coming on with the sunset over - Holy Island, and the sea covered with herring-boats. Mr. Liddell - talked of his youth. 'The old Duchess of Gordon used to lead the - _ton_ in my day--so exclusive it was! She took care to marry all - her daughters well. With regard to their looks she said, "Give me - eyes and I will supply the rest." Every one used to struggle to get - into Almack's. When Lady Jersey was abroad, she heard of some - "little people" being admitted, and set off home directly, saying, - "I am obliged to come back to keep you all from going wrong." Lady - Londonderry and Lady Jersey were rival queens, and I am afraid - rejoiced in each other's misfortunes when their daughters married - ill.' - - [Illustration: BAMBOROUGH CASTLE.] - - "Yesterday we went to Holy Island--Charlotte, Mrs. George Liddell, - Miss Parke, and I--crossing in a boat the emerald green waves, upon - which great seagulls were floating in the most bewitching manner. - We had luncheon in St. Cuthbert's Abbey, and by the time we were - ready to return, the sea was like a lake, the lights most lovely in - the still water, and the great castle looming against a yellow sky. - We have had a very pleasant evening since. Mr. Liddell has just - been telling me of an old man at Easington who said that the Bible - was like a round of beef, it was always 'coot and coom again.'" - - - "_Ford Cottage, August 22._--Lady Waterford had sent a kind - invitation for the whole party at Bamborough to come to luncheon, - so they drove with me here--sixteen miles. As we came down upon - Ford all was changed. The gingerbread castle of Udolpho had marched - back three centuries, and is now a grand massive building in the - Audley End style, but with older towers. The ugly village had moved - away from its old site to a hillside half a mile off, and - picturesque cottages now line a broad avenue, in the centre of - which is a fountain with a tall pillar surmounted by an angel. - Schools for boys and girls have sprung up, a school for washing, - adult schools, a grand bridge of three tall arches over the dens: - it is quite magical. - - "The cottage is radiant--gorgeous beds of flowers, smoothly shaven - miniature lawns, and large majolica vases, while raised stands of - scarlet geraniums look in at the windows. Dear old Lady Stuart - received us, and then Lady Waterford came in. I felt rather shy at - bringing such an immense party, but I believe the visit was really - welcome to her, and all the guests were completely fascinated by - her beauty, her kindness, and her goodness.... The castle will be - magnificent inside. The ghost room is opened and a secret staircase - found at the very spot from which the ghost was said to emerge. The - Bamborough party went away after tea, and we had a delightful - evening, Lady Waterford singing and talking by turns. 'Here are my - two little choristers,' she said, showing her last picture. 'I - painted them against the grass in early spring: it has all the - effect of a gold ground. They like coming to me. They are the only - children who have come to me who have not been sick: after the - first hour, all the others used to turn perfectly livid and say - "I'm sick." It was something in the room, and having to look - fixedly at one object. Lady Marion Alford says it was just the same - with the children who came to her.... I have often seen skies like - this in my drawing, but I suppose others don't. I asked a little - schoolgirl that came to me if she had ever seen anything like it. - "No, _never_," she said.... I should like my fountain drawn either - with a black cloud behind the angel or with a very deep blue sky; I - have seen it both ways.... That is a sketch of a French town we - went through, where the arms of the town are three owls. We asked a - woman what it meant, and she said it was on account of a sermon. - Some one betted the priest that he would not bring an owl into his - sermon. So he preached on Dives and Lazarus, and, after describing - the end of the rich man, said "Il bou, Il bou, Il bou" (He boils, - boils, boils).... When Ruskin came here, he said I would never - study or take pains, so I copied a print from Van Eyck in - Indian-ink; it took me several months. When I took Ruskin into my - school he only said, "Well, I expected you would have done - something better than that."' - - "But, in spite of Ruskin, my mother would be perfectly enchanted - with the schools, which are glorious. The upper part of the walls - is entirely covered with large pictures, like frescoes, by Lady - Waterford, of the 'Lives of Good Children'--Cain and Abel, Abraham - and Isaac, Jacob and Esau, Joseph and his Brethren, &c., all being - really portraits of the Ford children, so that little Cain and Abel - sit underneath their own picture, &c. The whole place is unique. - The fountain in the centre of the village is worthy of Perugia, - with its tall red granite pillar and angel figure standing out - against the sky. All the cottages have their own brilliant gardens - of flowers, beautiful walks have been made to wander through the - wooded dene below the castle, and miles of drive on Flodden, with - its wooded hill and Marmion's Well. The whole country is wild and - poetical--deep wooded valleys, rugged open heaths, wind-blown - pine-woods, and pale blue distances of Cheviot Hill; and Lady - Waterford is just the person to live in it, gleaning up and making - the most of every effect, every legend, every ballad, and - reproducing them with her wonderful pencil, besides which her large - income enables her to restore all the old buildings and benefit all - the old people who have the good fortune to be within her reach." - -[Illustration: THE SUNDIAL GARDEN, FORD.[271]] - -[Illustration: THE FOUNTAIN, FORD.[272]] - - - "_Ford Cottage, August 24._--I have been walking in the dene to-day - with Lady Stuart. She narrates very comically the effect which her - two beautiful daughters produced when they came out into the world, - and the way in which she saw a lady at a ball gaze at them, and - then at her, and heard her say, '_How_ beautiful they are, and - isn't it strange, _considering_?' Some one spoke of how Blake the - artist used to go into a summer-house with Mrs. Blake, and practise - for the Adam and Eve of his pictures, and how one day some visitors - came, and it was very awkward. 'It would not have been so with the - real Adam and Eve,' said Lady Stuart, 'for they could never dread - any droppers-in.' In her anecdotes of old times and people, she is - quite inexhaustible. Here are some of them:-- - - "'Yes, we were at George the Fourth's coronation; a great many - other ladies and I went with Lady Castlereagh--she, you know, was - the minister's wife--by water in one of the great state barges. We - embarked at Hungerford Stairs, and we got out at a place called - Cotton Garden, close to Westminster Hall. Lord Willoughby was with - us. When we got out, we were looking about to see where all the - ministers lived, &c., when somebody came up and whispered something - to Lord Willoughby. He exclaimed "Good God!" and then, apologising - for leaving us, went off in a hurry looking greatly agitated. Queen - Caroline was at that moment knocking at the door of the Abbey. She - had got Lady Anne Barnard, who was with her, to get her a peer's - ticket, which was given her, but it was not countersigned, and they - would not admit her. She was in despair. She stood on the platform - and wrung her hands in a perfect agony. At last Alderman Wood, who - was advising her, said, "Really your Majesty had better retire." - The people who had tickets for the Abbey, and who were to go in by - that door, were all waiting and pressing for entrance, and when the - Queen went away, there were no acclamations for her; the people - thought she had no business to come to spoil their sport.[273] - - "'She had been married twenty-five years to the King then. They - offered her £100,000 a year to stay quietly abroad, but she would - come back at once and assert her rights as a queen. She died of - that Coronation-day. She went home and was very ill. Then came a - day on which she was to go to one of the theatres. It was placarded - all about that she was to appear, and her friends tried to get up a - little reaction in her favour. She insisted on going, and she was - tolerably well received, but when she came home she was worse, and - she died two days after. - - "'The Duchesse de Berri[274] thought of marrying George IV. after - her Duke was dead. People began to talk to her about marrying - again. "Oh dear, no," she said, "I shall never marry again. At - least there is only one person--there is the King of England. How - funny it would be to have two sons, one the King of France and the - other King of England--yes, and the King of England the cadet of - the two." I never had courage to tell George IV. what she said, - though I might have done it. He once said to me, when his going to - France was talked of, "Oh dear, no, I don't want to see them. Poor - Louis XVIII., he was a friend of mine, but then he's dead; and as - for Charles X., I don't want to see him. The Dauphine! yes, I pity - her; and the Duchesse de Bern, she's dreadful ugly, ain't she?" I - wish I had said to him, "Yes, but she does not wish your Majesty to - think so." - - "'I went down one day to St. Cloud to see the Duchesse de Berri; - she had been pleased to express a wish to see me. While I was - there, her son rushed in.[275] "Come now," she said, "kiss the hand - of Madame l'Ambassadrice. But what have you got there?" she said. - "Oh, je vous apportais mes papillons," said he, showing some - butterflies in a paper case, and then, with an air of pride, "C'est - une assez belle collection." The Duchesse laughed at them, and the - boy looked so injured and hurt, that I said, "But it is a very nice - collection indeed." Many years afterwards, only three years ago, - Lou and I were at Venice, and we went to dine with the Chambords. - He remembered all about it, and laughed, and said, "Après, je - regrettais mes papillons." For it was only a fortnight after I saw - them that the Revolution took place, and the family had to fly, and - of course the butterflies in their paper case were left behind in - the flight. We were in the Pyrenees then, and indeed when the - Duchesse sent for me, it was because she heard I was going there, - and she wished to tell me about the places she had been to, and to - ask me to engage her donkey-woman. - - "'When they were at Venice, the Chambords lived in one palace, a - very fine one, and the Duchesse de Berri in another farther down - the canal, and the Duchess of Parma in a third. I did not see the - Duchesse de Berri, though I should have liked to have done so. She - was married then to a Marchese Lucchesi, by whom she had a quantity - of grown-up sons and daughters. They were dreadfully - extravagant--not Lucchesi, he never was, but she was, and her - sons-in-law. The Comte de Chambord paid her debts over and over - again, but at last her things were obliged to be sold. - - "'When we went to dine with the Chambords, we were warned that we - must not allow anything to pass, or we should not get any dinner. - We went at half-past four, and the soup came, and the Duke (de - Bordeaux) was talking to me at that time, and, while I was - listening, the soup was carried away, and so it was with nearly - everything else. The party was almost entirely composed of French - exiles. Lou wrote down their names at the time, but I have - forgotten them now. At seven our gondola was ordered, and it came - too late, the royalties were so punctual. The Duke and Duchess got - up, and saying, "I wish you a pleasant evening," went out, and then - we had nothing for it but to go away. An old Venetian gentleman - helped us out of the scrape, and gave us a lift home in his - gondola, and very much aghast our gondoliers were when they met us - in another boat upon the canal, while they were rowing with all - their might to fetch us away. The royal family used to go in the - evening to an island, which the Duke had bought for them to have - exercise upon. - - "'They would never do for France: they have not the manners. She is - ugly,[276] and then she dresses so badly--no, she would never do. - The only one who would do out of both sets is Aumale: he is really - a fine prince. The Comte de Paris would of course naturally come - first, but the Duke of Orleans used to say, 'I will never be a king - by anything but popular election,' and that is against his family - succeeding. All the members of the family _look up_ to Aumale. - - "'Did you ever hear about the old Duc de Coigny and his arm? His - arm was shot during the Moscow campaign, and when it was amputated, - numbers of others having their limbs taken off at the same time, he - exclaimed, "Oh mon cher bras, qui m'a si bien servi, je ne puis - jamais me séparer de ce cher bras," and he insisted on its being - found for him, which was highly inconvenient, and packed it up in a - portmanteau, which he carried before him on horseback during the - whole of the return. The soldiers quite hated that arm; however, - the Duke insisted upon it. At last, as he was crossing a ford in a - carriage, the portmanteau rolled off his knee on to his foot and - hurt it exceedingly, upon which he was so exasperated that in a fit - of rage he opened the carriage door and kicked it out into the - river. When he got to his night quarters, however, the Duke was in - absolute despair--"Oh mon pauvre bras! mon pauvre cher bras!" He - had wished it to be buried with him; for was it not his most - faithful servant? he said. However, none of the soldiers were - inclined to go and fish it up for him, and since then, poor man, he - has had to be buried without it. - - "'The wife of this Duc de Coigny was Henrietta Dalrymple Hamilton, - who brought him large estates. Her parents were miserable at her - marrying a foreigner, from the idea that the estates would - certainly then go out of the family; but of all his children only - two daughters survive; one is Lady Manvers, and the other married - Lord Stair, and thus brought back the estates to the elder branch - of the Dalrymples. The Duc died last year, chiefly of grief for the - death of another daughter who had married a Frenchman. His sister - married Maréchal Sebastiani and had five daughters. One of these - was the murdered Duchesse de Praslin. - - "'Madame de Praslin was one of a society that there was in Paris - then, who used to laugh at anything like spiritualism or warnings - from another world. Madame de Rabuteau was her great friend and - partisan in these opinions. One day Madame de Praslin went with her - husband to Choiseul Praslin. Her room was magnificent, and she - slept in a great velvet bed. In the middle of the night, she awoke - with a sense of something moving in the room, and, lifting herself - up in bed, saw, by the expiring embers of the fire, a figure, and - as it turned, she saw, as it were, something green. She scarcely - knew whether she was asleep or awake, and, to convince herself, - stretched out her hand and encountered something cold, hard, and - which felt like steel. Then, widely awake, she saw the figure - recede and vanish out of the room. She felt a thrill of horror and - began to reason with herself. "Well," she said, "I have always - opposed and laughed at belief in these things, and now one of them - has come to _me_. Now what can it mean? It can only mean that I am - soon to die, and it has come as a warning." - - "'Soon after Madame de Praslin returned to Paris, and at the house - of Madame de Rabuteau she met all her former intimates. "Oh," said - Madame de Rabuteau as she entered the room, "I am so glad you have - come to help me to laugh at all these people, who are holding forth - upon revelations from another world."--"Indeed, I think we had - better talk of something else," said Madame de Praslin; "let us - talk of something else."--"Why, my dear, you used to be such an - ardent defender of mine," said Madame de Rabuteau, "are _you_ going - over to the other side?" But Madame de Praslin resolutely refused - the subject and "parlons d'autre chose" was all that could be - extracted from her. When the rest of the company was gone, Madame - de Rabuteau said, "Well, now, what is it? what can have come over - you this evening? why do you not laugh at their - manifestations?"--"Simply because I have had one myself," replied - very gravely Madame de Praslin, and she told what had happened, - saying that she believed it to indicate her approaching death. - Madame de Rabuteau tried to argue her out of the impression, but in - vain. Madame de Praslin went home, and a few days after she was - murdered in the Hôtel Sebastiani. - - "'When the Duke was taken, search was made, and amongst his things - were found a green mask and a dagger. He had evidently intended to - murder the Duchess at Choiseul Praslin, and it had been no spirit - that she saw. - - "'Madame de Feuchères was originally a Miss Sophia Dawes, the - daughter of Mr. Dawes, who was a shipbuilder at Ryde and a very - respectable man. The Duc de Bourbon[277] saw her somewhere and took - a great fancy to her, and, to facilitate an intimacy with her, he - married her to his aide-de-camp, the Baron de Feuchères. But M. de - Feuchères was a very honourable man. When the marriage was proposed - to him, the Duke paying the dowry, he took her for a daughter of - the Duke, and when he found out the real state of things, he - separated from her at once, leaving all her fortune in her hands. - It was supposed that Madame de Feuchères was in the Orleans - interest, and that therefore the Duke would leave everything to the - Duc d'Aumale. I must say for the Duchesse de Berri that she was - exceedingly good-natured about that. When there was a question - about the Feuchères being received at the palace, she advocated it, - for the sake of _ma tante_,[278] and Madame de Feuchères came. But - when the Revolution took place and Charles X. fled, the feelings of - the Duc de Bourbon were changed; all his loyalty was roused, and he - said that he must follow _son roi_. Nothing that Madame de - Feuchères could say could change this resolution. They said that he - hanged himself (August 27, 1830), immediately after hearing of the - escape, but few believed it; most thought that Madame de Feuchères - had done it--unjustly perhaps, because, on arriving at an inn where - they were to sleep, the Duke observed that the landlord looked very - dispirited, and knowing the cause, said, "I am afraid you have had - some sad trouble in your family besides all these terrible public - events."--"Yes, Monseigneur," said the man, "my brother hanged - himself yesterday morning."--"And how did he do that?" said the - Duke. "Oh, Monseigneur, he hanged himself from the bolt of the - shutter."--"No, that is impossible," said the Duke, "for the man - was too tall." Then the landlord exactly described the process by - which his brother had effected his purpose, raising himself upon - his knees, &c., and it was precisely in that way that the body of - the Duke was found in the château of St. Leu. Still most people - thought that Madame de Feuchères had murdered him in his bed, and - then hung up his body to avoid suspicion.[279] - - "'It was said that the Duke could not have hanged himself, because - he had hurt his hand and could not use it, and so could not have - tied himself up, but Lord Stuart always said that he was very - thankful that his evidence was not called for, because he had met - the Duke at a dinner-party a little while before, when he showed - that he could use his hand by carving a large turkey beautifully. - That dinner-party was at St. Leu. Madame Adelaide had wanted to buy - St. Leu, but the Duke said, "No; yet never mind; some day it will - come into your family all the same." The Duke sat by Madame - Adelaide at dinner and carved the turkey. "Pray do not attempt it, - Monseigneur," she said, "for it will be too much for you," but he - was able to do it very well. - - "'In consequence of the Duke dying when he did, the Duc d'Aumale - got the Condé property. Madame de Feuchères came to England, and - her brother, Mr. Dawes, took a place for her near Highcliffe. I - never called on her, but Lord Stuart did. I remember Bemister, a - carpenter, being sent for by her, and coming to me afterwards. He - told me, "I felt very queer when she told me to hang up a picture - of the Duke on the wall of her room, and before I thought what I - was about I said, 'And where will _you_ hang _he_?'"--"And what in - the world did she answer?" I asked. "Well," he said, "I was looking - very foolish, and she said, 'Why, you don't think I really _did_ - it, do you?'"--"And what did you really think, Bemister?" I said. - "Why, I don't think she _did_ it," answered Bemister, "but I think - she worrited of him into doing it himself," and I suspect this was - pretty near the truth.' - - "I sleep at the castle, and at 10 A.M. go down to the cottage, - which looks radiant in its bowers of flowers and shrubs, with a - little burn tossing in front. Lady Waterford reads the lessons and - prayers to the household (having already been to church herself). - Then comes breakfast in the miniature dining-room opening into the - miniature garden, during which she talks ceaselessly in her - wonderfully poetical way. Then I sit a little with Lady - Stuart--then draw, while Lady Waterford has her choristers and - other boy models to sit to her. At two is luncheon, then we go out, - Lady Stuart in a donkey-chair. Yesterday we went all over Flodden; - to-day we are going to Yetholm, the gipsy capital. At half-past - seven we dine, then Lady Waterford paints, while I tell them - stories, or _anything_, for they like to hear everything, and then - Lady Waterford sings, and tells me charming things in return. Here - are some snatches from her:-- - - "'I wish you had seen Grandmama Hardwicke.[280] She was such a - beautiful old lady--very little, and with the loveliest skin, and - eyes, and hair; and she had such beautiful manners, so graceful and - so gracious. Grandmama lived till she was ninety-five. She died in - '58. I have two oak-trees in the upper part of the pleasaunce which - were planted by her. When she was in her great age, all her - grandchildren thought they would like to have oak-trees planted by - her, and so a row of pots was placed in the window-sill, and her - chair was wheeled up to it, to make it as little fatigue as - possible, and she dropped an acorn into each of the pots. Her old - maid, Maydwell, who perfectly doted upon her, and was always afraid - of her overdoing herself, stood by with a glass of port wine and a - biscuit, and when she had finished her work, she took the wine, - and passing it before the pots, said, "Success to the oak-trees," - and drank it. I am always so sorry that Ludovic Lindsay (Lord - Lindsay's eldest boy) should not have seen her. Lord Lindsay wished - it: he wished to have carried on further the recollection of a - person whose grandfather's wife was given away by Charles the - Second; but it was Maydwell who prevented it, I believe, because - she was too proud of her mistress, and did not think her looking - quite so well then as she had looked some years before. The fact - was, I think, that some of the little Stuarts had been taken to see - her, and as they were going out they had been heard to say, "How - _awfully_ old she looks." - - "'Her father, Lord Balcarres, was what they call "out in the '45," - and his man was called on to swear that he had not been present at - a time when he was. The man swore it and Lord Balcarres got off. - When they were going away safe he said to his man, "Well now, how - _could_ you swear such a lie!"--"Because I had rather trust my - sowle to God," said the man, "than your body to deevils." The first - wife of Lord Balcarres's father[281] was Mauritia of Nassau, who - was given away by Charles II. When they came to the altar, the - bridegroom found that he had totally forgotten the ring. In a great - fright he asked if one of the bystanders could lend him a ring, and - a friend gave him one. He did not find out then that it bore the - device of a death's-head and cross-bones, but Mauritia of Nassau - found it out afterwards: she considered it a prophecy of evil, and - she died within the year. - - "'When he was almost an old man, Lord Balcarres went to stay with - old Lady Keith. There were a quantity of young ladies in the house, - and before he came Lady Keith said, "Now there is this old - gentleman coming to stay, and I particularly wish that you should - all endeavour to make yourselves as pleasant to him as you can." - They all agreed, but a Miss Dalrymple[282] said, "Well, you may all - do what you like, but I'll bet you anything you please that I'll - make him like me the best of all of us," and so she did; she made - him exclusively devoted to her all the while he was there; but she - never thought of anything more than this, and when he asked her to - marry him, she laughed at the very idea. He was exceedingly - crestfallen, but when he went away he made a will settling - everything he possessed upon this Miss Dalrymple. Somehow she heard - of this, and said, "Well then, after all, he must really care for - me, and I _will_ marry him," and she did. He was fifty-eight then, - but they had eleven children. When Lady Balcarres was an old woman, - she was excessively severe, indeed she became so soon after her - marriage. One day some one coming along the road towards her house - met a perfect procession of children of all ages, from three - upwards, walking one behind the other, and the eldest boy, who came - first, gipsy fashion carrying the baby on his back. They were the - eleven children of Lady Balcarres making their escape from their - mother, with the intention of going out to seek their own fortunes - in the world. It was one of the family of this Lady Balcarres who - was the original of Lucy Ashton in the "Bride of Lammermoor." The - story is all true. The Master of Ravenswood was Lord Rutherford. - She rode to church on a pillion behind her brother that he might - not feel how her heart was beating. - - "'In consequence of Grandmama Hardwicke's great age, people used to - be astonished at my aunt Lady Mexborough, when nearly eighty, - running upstairs and calling out 'Mama.' When my aunt Lady Somers - was at Bath, she sent for a doctor, and he said to her, "Well, my - lady, at _your_ age, you cannot expect to be ever much - better."--"At _my_ age!" she said, "why, my mother only died last - year." The doctor was perfectly petrified with amazement. "It is - the most wonderful thing," he said, "that I ever heard in my life." - My grandmother's sisters were very remarkable women; one was Lady - Margaret Lindsay, the other was Lady Anne Barnard. Lady Anne was - the real authoress of "Auld Robin Gray." She loved the tune,[283] - but the original words were bad and unfit for a lady to sing, so - she wrote, "Auld Robin Gray," though some one else has always had - the credit of it.' - - [Illustration: FORD CASTLE, THE TERRACE.[284]] - - "We have been walking this afternoon through the cornfields towards - Etal. Lady Waterford recalled how Lady Marion Alford had shown her - that all the sheaves leaning towards one another were like hands - praying. To-night Mr. Williams dined at the cottage. Asking Lady - Waterford about him afterwards, she said:-- - - "'I do not know if Mr. Williams is old or young. I think he is like - the French lady of whom it was said, "Elle n'avait pas encore perdu - l'ancienne habitude d'être jeune." Apropos of this, Lady Gifford - made such a pretty speech once. A little girl asked her, "Do tell - me, are you old or young? I never _can_ make out," and she said, - "My dear, I have been a very long time young." - - "'The story of Mr. Williams is quite a pretty one. When Lord - Frederick FitzClarence was in India, there was a great scandal in - his government, and two of his aides-de-camp had to be sent away. - He wrote to his brother-in-law to send him out another in a hurry, - and he sent Mr. Williams. When he arrived, Lord Frederick was very - ill, and soon after he died. After his death, Mr. Williams had the - task of bringing Lady Frederick and her daughter home. Miss - FitzClarence was then very much out of health, and he used to carry - her up on deck, and they were thrown very much together. I believe - the maids warned Lady Frederick that something might come of it, - but she did not see it. Before the end of the voyage, Mr. Williams - and Miss FitzClarence had determined to be married, but she decided - not to tell her mother as yet. When the ship arrived at Portsmouth, - the coffin of Lord Frederick had to remain all night on the deck, - and Mr. Williams never left it, but walked up and down the whole - time watching it, which touched Lady Frederick very much. Still, - when her daughter told her she was going to marry him, she was - quite furious, contrary to her usual disposition, which is an - exceedingly mild one, and she would not hear of it, and sent him - away at once. - - "'It was the time of the war, and Captain Williams went off to the - Crimea, but Miss FitzClarence grew worse and worse, and at last the - difference between them made her so uncomfortable with her mother, - that she went off to her grandmother; but while there she - continued to get worse, and at last it was evidently a case of - dying, and when her mother went to her, she was so alarmed that she - begged she would marry any one she liked; she would consent to - whatever she wished, and would send for Captain Williams at once. - So Williams threw up everything, though it was considered a - disgrace in time of war, and came home, but when he arrived, poor - Miss FitzClarence was dead. - - "'Then Lady Frederick felt that she could not do enough for him, - and she took him to live with her as her son. The relations, - however, were all very angry, and the _mauvaises langues_ said that - she meant to marry him herself. So then she thought it would not - do, and she got him an agency on Lord Fife's property and sent him - to live alone. However, after a time, the agency somehow was given - up, and he came back, and he always lives now with Lady Frederick. - At Etal they always sit in church gazing into the open grave, which - Lady Frederick will never have closed, in which his love is to be - buried when she (the mother) dies, and is laid there also, and at - Ford he sits by his love's dead head. - - "'I think Captain Williams must be no longer young, because he is - so very careful about his dress, and that is always a sign of a - man's growing old, isn't it?" - - "The neighbours at Ford most of them seem to have 'stories' and are - a perpetual source of interest. Lady Waterford says:-- - - "'Grindon is a fine old manor-house near Tillmouth. Mr. Friar lives - there. One morning he was a carpenter working down a coal-pit, and - in the evening he was the master of Grindon: I believe an uncle - left it him. - - "'Then there was that Sir F. Blake whose wife was a Persian - princess, who afterwards left a fine diamond necklace and two most - magnificent Persian vases to the family. I was so sorry when those - vases were sold for £40: they were worth many hundreds. - - "'Near Howtell is Thorpington, a farm of the Hunts. Sir J. Hunt was - attainted for fighting in the Jacobite cause, and his property was - all confiscated. His son was so reduced that he was obliged to - become a groom, but he so gained the regard of his master, that, - when he died, he left him all his horses. From that time the Hunts - have taken to selling horses and their breed has become famous. - They never sell a horse, however, under £200: if they do not get - that sum, they either shoot them or give them away.'" - - - - "_Chillingham Castle, August 27, 1865._--On Thursday afternoon I - drove with Lady Waterford and Lady Stuart to Yetholm, twelve miles - from Ford. The way wound through wild desolate valleys of the - Cheviots, and the village itself is a miserable place. I drew the - palace of the gipsy queen--a wretched thatched hovel with a mud - floor, but royalty was absent on a tinkering expedition. - - "On Friday I went in the pony-carriage to Etal. There I was shown - into a room hung with relics of Lord Frederick FitzClarence and - miniatures of George IV. and the royal family. Very soon Lady - Frederick[285] came in--a figure like a nun, one straight fall of - crape, without crinoline, enveloping her thin figure, and her hair - all pushed back into a tight round white muslin cap, and - coal-scuttle bonnet. She scarcely ever sees any one, so it was an - effort to her to receive me, but she was not so odd as I expected. - She talked about the place and then about wasps, and said that if - Captain Williams was stung by a wasp, it had such an effect upon - him that he swelled up all over and fell down perfectly senseless - upon the ground that instant. In the hall was the dinner service of - Nelson (painted with figures of Lady Hamilton as Amphytrite), which - was given to Lord Frederick by William IV. Captain Williams went - with me to the ruined castle of Etal and then along a walk above - the Till, which was very beautiful, with weird old willows, high - rocks, and lovely reaches of wood and water. - - "Yesterday morning I made a sketch of the door of the cottage, with - all its flowers, &c., which I gave to Lady Stuart, much to her - pleasure. She told me about Lord Waterford's death. On that - morning, as always, Lady Waterford read to him a chapter in the - Bible whilst he was dressing, and for that day it was the lament - for Absalom. It contained the verse in which a pillar is raised up - to him for 'he had no son to keep his name in remembrance;' so his - widow determined to raise a pillar to his memory, and has done so - in the beautiful angel-fountain at Ford. - - [Illustration: _Elizabeth, Lady Stuart de Rothesay. - - From a miniature by Miss Dixon_.] - - "In the middle of luncheon Lady Tankerville drove up, came to fetch - me, and bringing Lady Bagot[286] and Lady Blanche Egerton[287] to - see the castle. So at five I came away with them, and took leave of - the cottage and its delightful inmates.... It was a cold - dreary day, and gusts of wind and rain blew from the Cheviots - during our fourteen miles. Lady Tankerville drove." - - - "_Chillingham, August 29._--Yesterday we all drove through pouring - rain to Hulne Abbey in Alnwick Park, where we were glad of the - shelter of the one unruined tower for our luncheon. Afterwards we - drove through the park to the castle, which I had not seen since - the reign of Algernon the Great and Eleanor the Good. Now we were - the guests of Lady Percy, a kind pleasant person, and Lady Louisa. - The rooms are grandly uncomfortable (except the library, which is - an attractive room), but the decorations cost £350,000!" - - - "_August 30._--Yesterday, as the family here are impervious to - damp, we picknicked in the forest. Lady Tankerville made the fire - and boiled the kettle; Lady Blanche laid the cloth and cut bread - and butter; a young Grey and I made the toast, and the little boys - and girls caught fresh trout out of the burn close by. In the - evening Lord Tankerville told us this story:-- - - "'My father had a beautiful villa at Walton, which we have given up - now. It was in the old days when we had to ride across Putney Heath - to reach it. My father used to think it very odd that when he went - into the stables to see his horses in the morning, they were all in - a foam and perfectly exhausted, as if they were worn out with hard - riding. One day he was coming home across Putney Heath, and he was - bringing Lord Derby back with him. When they came near the heath, - he had said, "Well, now, we had better have our pistols ready, - because highwaymen are often to be met with here." So they loaded - their pistols, and it was not a bit too soon, for directly after a - highwayman rode up to the carriage-window and demanded their money - or their lives. As he spoke he recognised them, and saw also that - my father recognised his own groom upon one of his own horses. In - the moment's hesitation he drew back, and in that moment my father - and Lord Derby fired. Several shots were exchanged on both sides, - but at last came a moment's pause, during which Lord Derby cried - out of the window to the postillion to ride forward, and he dashed - on at full gallop. The highwayman fired into the back of the - carriage, and Lord Derby and my father returned his fire by leaning - out of the windows. At last the back of the carriage was quite - riddled with shot, and the ammunition of those inside was quite - exhausted, and then Lord Derby held out a white handkerchief as a - flag of truce out of the window, and the highwayman rode up and - they delivered up all their valuables to him. Of course my father - never saw his groom again, and his horses were in much better - condition ever afterwards--at least those which were left, for the - highwayman rode away upon the best horse in the stables.'" - - - "_Howick, Sept. 1, 1865._--Yesterday I was able to stop the express - at the private station (for Howick), whither Lord Grey sent for me. - It was a drive of about a mile and a half, chiefly through - shrubberies of hollies and rhododendrons, to this large square - house with wings. It is most comfortable inside, with a beautiful - library opening into a great conservatory. Lady Grey[288] is one of - the severest-looking and one of the kindest-meaning persons I have - ever seen. Lord Grey is little and lame, but gets about with a - stick very actively. He is quite grey, but the very image of Lady - Mary Wood. The rest of the party had put off coming for a day from - different reasons, but I was not sorry to make acquaintance alone - first with my host and hostess, and they were most pleasant, so - that it was a very agreeable evening." - - "_Sept. 2._--Yesterday morning a great bell on the top of the house - summoned all in it to prayers, which were read by Lord Grey in the - breakfast-room opening on to very pretty terraces of flowers, with - perfect shrubberies of sweet verbena, for the climate here is very - mild. After breakfast I went down through the wood to the sea, not - a mile distant, and a very fine bit of coast, with rich colour in - the rocks and water, and Dunstanborough Castle on its crag as the - great feature. The place reminds me a little of Penrhôs. When I - returned from driving with Lady Grey to Alnwick, the Belhavens - arrived, and before dinner the Bishop of London and Mrs. Tait, and - the Durhams." - - - "_Sept. 4._--My dearest mother will like to know how intensely I - have enjoyed being at Howick. The Greys make their house so - pleasant and the life here is so easy. Then Lady Belhaven[289] is - always celebrated as a talker, and it has been delightful to sit - on the outskirts of interesting conversations between my host and - Sir George Grey or the Bishop. - - "On Saturday afternoon I drove with the Durhams and Lady Belhaven - to Dunstanborough. The sea was of a deep Mediterranean blue under - the great cliffs and overhanging towers of the ruined castle. Lord - Durham[290] and I walked back three miles along the cliffs--a high - field-walk like the old one at Eastbourne. - - "On Sunday the Bishop preached at the little church in the grounds. - It has been rebuilt and decorated with carvings by Lady Grey and - her sisters-in-law. In the chancel is the fine tomb of the Prime - Minister Lord Grey. I went with Durham afterwards all over the - gardens, which are charming, with resplendent borders of - old-fashioned flowers; and after afternoon church, we all went down - through the dene to the sea, where there is a bathing-house, with a - delightful room fitted up with sofas, books, &c., just above the - waves. All the French herring-fleet was out, such a pretty sight. - The Bishop read prayers in the evening to the great household of - forty-eight persons. He is a very pleasant, amiable Bishop. - - "I enjoyed seeing so much of Durham; no one could help very much - liking one who is very stiff with people in general, and most - exceedingly nice to oneself. But Lady Durham[291] is always - charming, so perfectly naïve, natural, and beautiful. She is - devoted to her husband and he to her. Some one spoke of people in - general not loving all their children. She said: 'Then that is - because they do not love their husbands. Some women think no more - of marriage than of dancing a quadrille; but when women love their - husbands, they love all their children equally. Every woman must - love her first child: the degree in which they love the others - depends upon the degree in which they love their husbands.' - - "Sitting by her at dinner, I asked if she had ever read 'Les - Misérables'? 'No. When I was confirmed, the clergyman who was - teaching me saw a French novel on the table, and said, "My dear - child, you don't read these things, do you?" I said "No," which was - quite true, for it belonged to my French governess, and he then - said, "Well, I wish you never would. Don't make any actual promise, - for fear you should not keep it, but don't do it unless you are - obliged;" and I never have.' - - "I spoke to her of the inconsistency involved by the confirmation - ceremony, by which young ladies renounced the pomps and vanities of - the world, being generally the immediate predecessor of their - formal entrance upon them. - - "'Yes; I never thought of that. But certainly my pomps and vanities - were of very short duration. I went to three balls, two - tea-parties, and one dinner, and that was all I ever saw of the - world; for then I was married. One year I was in the school-room in - subjection to every one, ordered about here and there, and the next - I was free and my own mistress and married.' - - "'And did not you find it rather formidable?' I said. 'Formidable - to be my own mistress! oh no. One thing I found rather formidable - certainly. It was when a great deputation came to Lambton to - congratulate George upon his marriage, and I had to sit at the end - of the table with a great round of beef before me. I wanted them - not to think I was young and inexperienced. I wanted to appear - thirty at least; so I _would_ carve: and then only think of their - saying afterwards in the newspaper paragraphs, "We are glad to - learn that the youthful Countess is not only amiable but - intelligent." I was glad that they should think I was amiable, but - when they said I was intelligent, I was perfectly furious, as if - George's wife could possibly have been anything else. - - "'I was brought up a Tory, but as long as I can remember I have - felt myself a Radical. I cannot bear to think of the division - between the classes, and there is so much good in a working-man. I - love working-men: they are my friends: they are so much better than - we are. - - "'When my little George of four years old--such a little duck he - is!--was with me at Weymouth, I told him he might take off his - shoes and stockings and paddle in the water, and he went in up to - his chest; and then the little monster said, "Now, mama, if you - want to get me again, you may come in and fetch me, for I shan't - come out." I was in despair, when a working-man passed by and said, - "Do you want that little boy, ma'am?" and I said "Yes," and he - tucked up his trousers and went in and fetched George out for me; - but if the _man's_ little boy had been in the water, I am afraid I - should not have offered to fetch him out for him. - - "'And when I was going to church at Mr. Cumming's in Covent Garden - (I daresay you think I'm very wrong for going there, but I can't - help that), it began to pour with rain, and a cabman on a stand - close by called out, "Don't you want a cab, ma'am?" I said, "Yes, - very much, but I've got no money." And the cabman said, "Oh, never - mind, jump in; you'll only spoil your clothes in the rain, and I'll - take you for nothing." When we got to the church door, I said, "If - you will come to my house you shall be paid," but he would not hear - of it, and I have liked cabmen ever since. Oh, there is so much - good in the working-men; they are so much better than we are.'" - - - "_Winton Castle, N.B., Sept. 5, 1865._--My sweetest mother will - like to think of me here with the dear old Lady Ruthven.[292] I - left Howick at mid-day yesterday, with the Bishop and Mrs. Tait and - their son Crauford, an Eton school-boy. It had been a very pleasant - visit to the last, and I shall hope to repeat it another year, and - also to go to the Durhams. We had an agreeable journey along the - cliffs. I had become quite intimate with the Taits in the three - days I was with them, and liked the Bishop very much better than - Mrs. Tait, though I am sure she is a very good and useful - woman.[293] At Tranent Lady Ruthven's carriage was waiting for me. - I found her in a sadly nervous state, dreadfully deaf, and - constantly talking, the burden of her refrain being-- - - 'Mummitie mum, mummitie mum, - Mummitie, mummitie, mummitie mum.' - - But in the evening she grew much better, and was like other people, - only that she would constantly walk in and out of the dark - ante-chambers playing on a concertina, which, as she wore a tiara - of pearls and turquoises, had a very odd effect in the half light; - and then at eleven o'clock at night she would put on her bonnet and - cloak and go off for a walk by herself in the woods. Charming Miss - Minnie Fletcher of Saltoun is here. She told me that-- - - "Sir David Brewster and his daughter went to stay with the - Stirlings of Kippenross. In the night Miss Brewster was amazed by - being awakened by her father coming into her room and saying, 'My - dear, don't be alarmed, but I really cannot stay in my room. It may - be very foolish and nervous, but there are such odd noises, such - extraordinary groanings and moanings, that I positively cannot bear - it any longer, and you must let me stay here. Don't disturb - yourself; I shall easily sleep on the sofa.' - - "Miss Brewster thought her father very silly, but there he stayed - till morning, when he slipped away to his own room to dress, so as - not to be found when the servant came to call his daughter. When - the maid came she said, 'Pray, ma'am, how long are you going to - stay in this house?' Miss Brewster was surprised, and said she did - not know. 'Because, ma'am, if you are going to stay, I am sorry to - say I must leave you. I like you very much, ma'am, and I shall be - sorry to go, but I would do anything rather than again go through - all I suffered last night; such awful groanings and moanings and - such fearful noises I can never endure again.' Miss Brewster was - very much annoyed and laughed at the maid, who nevertheless - continued firm in her decision. - - "In the afternoon Miss Brewster had a headache, and at length it - became so bad that she was obliged to leave the dinner-table and go - up to her room. At the head of the stairs she saw a woman--a large - woman in a chintz gown, leaning against the banisters. She took her - for the housekeeper, and said, 'I am going to my room: will you be - so kind as to send my maid to me?' The woman did not answer, but - bowed her head three times and then pointed to a door in the - passage and went downstairs. Miss Brewster went to her room, and - after waiting an hour in vain for her maid, she undressed and went - to bed. When the maid came up, she asked why she had not come - before, and said she had sent the housekeeper for her. 'How very - odd,' said the maid, 'because I have been sitting with the - housekeeper the whole time.' Miss Brewster then described the - person she had seen, upon which the maid gave a shriek and said, - 'Oh, then you have seen the ghost.' The maid was in such a state of - terror, that when Mrs. Stirling came up to inquire after her - headache, Miss Brewster asked her about the woman she had seen, - when, to her surprise, Mrs. Stirling looked quite agonised, and - said, 'Oh, then there is more misery in store for me. You do not - know what that ghost has been to me all through my married life.' - She then made Miss Brewster promise not to tell the persons who - slept in the room pointed at, that theirs was the room. It was a - Major and Mrs. Wedderburn who slept there. Mrs. Stirling and Miss - Brewster then both wrote out accounts of what had happened and - signed and sealed them. Before the year was out, they heard that - the Wedderburns were both killed in the Indian Mutiny." - - - "_Winton Castle, Sept. 8._--My visit here has been very pleasant - indeed. The Speaker and Lady Charlotte Denison came on Tuesday - afternoon with the Belhavens. He is a fine-looking elderly man, - with a wonderful fund of agreeable small-talk. Lady Charlotte[294] - is very refined, quite unaffected, and very pretty still: they are - both most kind to me. Miss Fletcher has been here all the time to - help Lady Ruthven, for whom it is well that she has such a kind, - pleasant greatniece only a mile off, to come and help her to amuse - all her guests, as she has had fifty-six parties of people - _staying_ in the house in the last year. We saw a large party of - the great-great nephews and nieces of Lady Ruthven and Lady - Belhaven on Wednesday, when we went to spend the afternoon at Lord - Elcho's. It is a fine place, Amisfield--a huge red stone house in a - large park close to the town of Haddington, where there is a - beautiful old cathedral, but in ruins, like all the best Scotch - churches. Lady Elcho[295] has the stately refinement of a beautiful - Greek statue. Her children are legion, the two eldest boys very - handsome and pleasant. We went over the house, with old tapestry, - &c., to be seen, and the gardens with fine cedars, and then all - Lord Wemyss's twenty-four race horses were brought out in turn to - be exercised round the courtyard and admired: after which we had - Scotch tea--scones, cakes, apricot-jam, &c. - - "I have made rather friends with John Gordon,[296] a younger - brother of Lord Aberdeen, who has been staying here. He is a second - Charlie Wood in character, though only eighteen, and I have seldom - seen any one I liked as well on short acquaintance. His family are - all supposed to be dreadfully shy, but he seems to be an exception. - - "Yesterday Lady Belhaven and Lady Ruthven went to Edinburgh, and I - stayed with Miss Fletcher, and walked with her in the afternoon to - Saltoun, where we had tea with Lady Charlotte and saw the - curiosities. Lady Charlotte Fletcher[297] said:-- - - "'The French royal family were often here at Saltoun when they were - at Holyrood--Charles X. and the Duchesse d'Angoulême, and the - Duchesse de Berri and her daughter, the Duc and Duchesse de Guise - and the Duc de Polignac.... The Duchesse d'Angoulême and the Duc de - Polignac used to go down to the bridge in the glen and stay there - for hours: they said it reminded them so much of France, the trees - and the water. The Duc de Polignac said our picture of the - leave-taking of Louis XVI. and his family contained figures more - like than any he had seen elsewhere. We turned it to the wall and - locked the door when they came, for fear the Duchesse d'Angoulême - should see it, but the little Mademoiselle de Berri was playing - hide-and-seek through the rooms, and she got in by the outer door, - and it was the first thing she observed, and she insisted on seeing - it.... She did me a little drawing, and left it behind her. - - "'The family were very fond of coming here, because my father, Lord - Wemyss, had been kind to them when they were here during the first - Revolution. On the Duchesse de Berri's birthday, she was asked what - she would like to do in honour of it, and she chose a day at - Saltoun. It was very inconvenient their all coming with the - children at a few hours' notice, such a large party, but she wrote - a pretty note, saying what a pleasure it would be to see her old - friends again, and another afterwards, saying what a delight it had - been, so that we were quite compensated.' - - "On Sunday, when it was church-time, Lady Ruthven said, 'We'll just - gang awa to the kirk and see what sort of a discoorse the minister - makes; and if he behaves himself, well--we'll ask him up to - dinner!' She sat in kirk, with her two dogs beside her, in a kind - of chair of state just under the pulpit, where she might have been - mistaken for the clerk. She is as demonstrative in church as - elsewhere, and once when Miss Fletcher came unexpectedly into the - gallery after she had been some time without seeing her, she called - out, 'Eh, there ye are, Minnie, my darling,' before the whole - congregation, and began kissing her hands to her. When a child - screamed in kirk, and its mother was taking it out, the minister - interrupted his discourse with, 'Na, bide a wee: I'm no that - fashed wi' the bairn.'--'Na, na,' said the mother, 'I'll no bide: - it's the bairn that's fashed wi' ye.' Talking afterwards of the - change of feeling with which church-services were usually regarded - now-a-days, Lady Charlotte Fletcher said:-- - - "'Old Lady Hereford, my aunt, was quite one of the old school. She - had a large glass pew in church, and the service was never allowed - to begin till she had arrived, settled herself, and opened the - windows of her pew. If she did not like the discourse, she slammed - down her windows. After the service was over, her steward used to - stand by the pew door to receive her orders as to which of the - congregation were to be invited to dine in her hall that day.' - - "While the party were talking of the change of manners, Lord - Belhaven said:-- - - "'I just remember the old drinking days:[298] they were just dying - out when I entered the army. Scarcely any gentlemen used to drink - less than two bottles of claret after dinner. They used to chew - tobacco, which was handed round, and drink their wine through it, - wine and tobacco-juice at the same time. A spittoon was placed - between every two gentlemen. It was universal to chew tobacco in - country-houses: they chewed it till they went in to dinner, and - they began again directly the ladies left the room, when tobacco - and spittoons were handed round. - - "'There were usually the bottles called "Jeroboams" on the table, - which held six bottles of port. The old Duke of Cleveland[299] - always had his wine-glasses made without a foot, so that they would - not stand, and you were obliged to drink off the whole glass when - you dined with him. - - "'I remember once dining at a house from which I was going away the - next morning. I got to bed myself at twelve. When I came down to go - off at eight, I asked when the other gentlemen had left the - diningroom. "Oh," said the servant, "they are there still." I went - in, and there, sure enough, they all were. When they saw me, they - made a great shout, and said, "Come, now, you must drink off a - bumper," and filled a tumbler with what they thought was spirits, - but to my great relief I saw it was water. So I said, "Very well, - gentlemen, I shall be glad to drink to your health, and of course - you will drink to mine,"--so I drank the water, and they drank the - spirits.'" - - - "_Castlecraig, Noblehouse, Sept. 9._--I came out this morning by - the railway to Broomlee, a pretty line, leading into wild moorland, - and at the station a dogcart met me, and brought me six miles - farther, quite into the heart of the Pentlands. The ascent to this - house is beautiful, through woods of magnificent alpine-looking - firs. Addie Hay[300] was waiting for me. You would scarcely believe - him to be as ill as he is, and he is most cheerful and pleasant, - making no difficulties about anything. He is often here with my - present host, Sir William Carmichael." - - - "_Winton Castle, Sept. 10._--Yesterday I saw the beautiful grounds - of Castlecraig--green glades in the hills with splendid pines, - junipers, &c., and part of the garden consecrated as a - burial-ground, with mossgrown sculptured tombs of the family - ancestors on the green lawn. - - "At Eskbank Lady Ruthven met me, and I came on with her to - Newbattle. It is an old house, once an abbey, lying low in a large - wooded park on the banks of the Esk--a fine hall and staircase hung - with old portraits, and a beautiful library with long windows, - carved ceiling, old books, illuminated missals, and stands of - Australian plants. Lady Lothian is very young and pretty,[301] Lord - Lothian a hopeless invalid from paralysis. She showed me the - picture gallery and then we went to the garden--most lovely, close - to the rushing Esk, and of mediæval aspect in its splendid flowers - backed by yew hedges and its stone sundials. After seeing Lady - Lothian's room and pictures, we had tea in the garden. The long - drive back to Winton was trying, as, with the thermometer at 70°, - Lady Ruthven would have a large bottle of boiling water at the - bottom of the close carriage. - - "Lady Ruthven is most kind, but oh! the life with her is so odd. - One day a gentleman coming down in the morning looked greatly - agitated, which was discovered to be owing to his having looked out - of his window in the middle of the night, and believing that he had - seen a ghost flitting up and down the terrace in a most ghastly - clinging white dress. It was the lady of the castle in her white - dressing-gown and night-gown!" - - - "_Wishaw, Sept. 14._--I came here (to the Belhavens) after a two - days' visit to Mrs. Stirling of Glenbervie, whence I saw Falkirk - Tryste--the great cattle fair of Scotland. It was a curious sight, - an immense plain covered with cattle of every description, - especially picturesque little Highland beasts attended by drovers - in kilts and plumes. When I saw the troops of horses kicking and - prancing, I said how like it all was to Rosa Bonheur's 'Horse - Fair,' and then heard she had been there to study for her picture. - - "We dined yesterday at Dalzel, Lady Emily Hamilton's,[302] a - beautiful old Scotch house, well restored by Billings. To-day is - tremendously hot, but though I am exhausted by the sun, I am much - more so by all the various hungers I have gone through, as we had - breakfast at half-past ten and luncheon at half-past five, and in - the interval went to Bothwell--Lord Home's,--beautiful shaven lawns - above a deep wooded ravine of the Clyde, and on the edge of the - slope a fine old red sandstone castle." - - - "_Lagaray, Gareloch, Sept. 17._--How I longed for my mother on - Friday in the drive from Helensburgh along a terrace on the edge of - the Gareloch, shaded by beautiful trees, and with exquisite views - of distant grey mountains and white-sailed boats coming down the - loch! I was most warmly welcomed by Robert Shaw Stewart[303] and - his wife.... Yesterday we went an immense excursion of forty-five - miles, seeing the three lakes--Lomond, Long, and Gareloch." - - - "_Carstairs House, Lanarkshire, Sept. 18._--Nothing could exceed - the kindness of the Shaw Stewarts, and I was very sorry to leave - them. The Gareloch is quite lovely, such fine blue mountains - closing the lake, with its margin of orange-coloured seaweeds.... - The Monteith family were at luncheon when I arrived at this large - luxurious house--the guests including two Italians, one a handsome - specimen of the Guardia Nobile--Count Bolognetti Cenci, a nephew by - many greats of the famous Beatrice. After luncheon we were sent to - the Falls of the Clyde--Cora Linn--a grand mass of water foaming - and dashing, which the Italians called 'carina'!" - -Before returning home, I went again to Chesters in Northumberland, to -meet Dr. Bruce, the famous authority on "The Roman Wall" of -Northumberland, on which he has written a large volume. It was curious -to find how a person who had allowed his mind to dwell exclusively on -one hobby could see no importance in anything else. He said, "Rome was -now chiefly interesting as illustrating the Roman Wall in -Northumberland, and as for Pompeii, it was not to be compared to the -English station of Housesteads." - -At the end of September I returned home, and had a quiet month with the -dear mother, who was now quite well. I insert a fragment of a letter -from a niece who had been with her in my absence, as giving a picture of -her peaceful, happy state at this time:-- - - "Auntie and I have spent our evenings in reading old letters and - journals, which have made the past seem nearer than the present. - Hers is such a sweet peaceful evening of life. There have been many - storms and sorrows, but her faith has stood firm, and she is now - calmly waiting her summons home. Oh! I pray that she may be spared - to us yet awhile, now so doubly dear to us, the one link left with - the loved and lost." - -We left Holmhurst at the beginning of November, and went to Italy by the -Mont Cenis, with Emma Simpkinson, the gentle youngest sister of my -Harrow tutor, as our companion. Fourteen horses dragged us over the -mountain through the snow in a bright moonlight night, during the -greater part of which I crouched upon the floor of the carriage, so as -to keep my mother's feet warm inside my waistcoat, so great was my -terror of her having any injury from the cold. - - MY MOTHER _to_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Spezia, Nov. 11, 1865._--The day was most lovely on which we left - Genoa, and so was the drive along the coast, reminding us of - Mentone in its beauty--the hills covered with olive-woods and - orange-groves, the mountains and rocky bays washed by the bluest of - blue waves. We dined at Ruta, a very pretty place in the mountain, - and slept at Chiavari. Saturday was no less beautiful, the - _tramontana_ keen when we met it, like a March day in England, but - the sun so burning, it quite acted as a restorative as we wound up - the Pass of Bracco after Sestri--lovely Sestri. We had the carriage - open, and so could enjoy the views around and beneath us, though - the precipices were tremendous. However, the road was good, and - occasionally in some of the worst places there was a bit of wall to - break the line at the edge. Nothing could be more grand than the - views of the billowy mountains with the Mediterranean below. At - Borghetto was our halting-place, and then we had a rapid descent - all the way here, where we arrived at half-past six." - - - "_Pisa, Nov. 14._--To continue my history. Sunday was again a - splendid day, and the Carrara mountains most lovely, especially at - sunset. On Monday we drove to Porto Venere, and spent the morning - in drawing at the ruined marble church. We dined, and at half-past - five set out, reaching Pisa at half-past seven. And here was a - merciful preservation given to me, where, to use the words of my - favourite travelling Psalm (xci.), though my feet 'were moved,' the - angels had surely 'charge over me.' Augustus had just helped me - down from the train and turned to take the bags out of the - carriage. When he _re_-turned to look after me, I lay flat on the - ground in the deep cutting of the side railway, into which, the - platform being narrow, unfinished, and badly lighted, I had fallen - in the dark. I believe both Augustus and Lea thought I was dead at - first, so frightful was the fall, yet, after a little, I was able - to walk to the carriage, though of course much shaken. Three falls - have I had this year--in the waves of the Atlantic, in Westminster - Abbey, and at Pisa--and yet, thanks be to God, no bones have been - broken." - -[Illustration: THE PASS OF BRACCO.[304]] - -At Pisa we stayed at the excellent Albergo di Londra, which was kept by -Flora Limosin, the youngest daughter of Victoire[305] and foster-sister -of Esmeralda. Victoire herself was living close by, in her own little -house, filled with relics of the past. I had not seen her since -Italima's death, and she had many questions to ask me, besides having -much to tell of the extraordinary intercourse she had immediately after -our family misfortunes with Madame de Trafford--the facts of which she -thus dictated to me:-- - -[Illustration: AT PORTO VENERE.[306]] - - Félix and Victoire followed Italima from Geneva to Paris. Victoire - says--"We rejoined Madame Hare at the house of Madame de Trafford. - I went with her and Mademoiselle to the station in the evening. - Madame Hare did all she could to console me. It was arranged that - Constance should accompany them, because she was Miss Paul's maid. - I had no presentiment then that I should never see Madame Hare - again. After they were gone, we remained at the house of Balze, our - son-in-law, at the end of the Faubourg S. Germain, but every day I - went, by her desire, to see Madame de Trafford, at the other end of - the Champs Elysées. She was all kindness to me. She did all she - could to console me. When she had letters from Madame Hare, she - read them to me: when I had them, I read them to Madame de - Trafford. Matters went from bad to worse. One day Madame de - Trafford had a letter which destroyed all hope. It was three days - before she ventured to read it to me. I have still the impression - of the hour in which she told me what was in it. She made me sit by - her in an armchair, and she said, 'Il ne faut pas vous illusionner, - Victoire: Madame Hare ne reviendra _jamais_; elle est absolument - ruinée.' I remained for several hours unconscious: I knew there was - no hope then. I was only sensible that Madame de Trafford gave me - some strong essence, which restored me in a certain degree. Then - she did all she could to console me. It was the most wonderful - heart-goodness possible. She took me back that day to my - son-in-law's house. I was thinking how I could break it to Félix: I - did not venture to tell him for a long time. At last he saw it for - himself; he said, 'Il y'a quelque chose de pire à apprendre, ou - vous me cachez quelque chose, Victoire,' and then I told him. The - next day Madame de Trafford said that she could not endure our - sufferings. 'Après trente ans de service, après tant de dévouement, - elle ne pouvait pas souffrir que nous irions à la mendicité. Vous - n'avez rien,' she said, 'je le sais plus que vous.' I did not like - her saying this. 'Yes, we have something,' I said, 'we are not so - badly off as that.'--'Tais-toi, Victoire, vous n'avez rien,' she - repeated, and she was right, it was her second-sight which told - her. She bade me seek in the environs of Paris for a small house, - any one I liked, in any situation, and she would buy it for me. If - there was a large house near it, so much the better--that she would - buy for herself. She said she knew I could not live there upon - nothing, but that she should give me an annuity, and that Félix 'à - cause de son rhumatisme,' must have a little carriage. I was quite - overwhelmed. 'Mais, Madame, nous ne méritons pas cela,' I said. - 'Oui, Victoire, je sais que vous le méritez bien, et _je le veux_.' - I said it was impossible I could accept such favours at her hands. - She only repeated with her peculiar manner and intonation--'_je le - veux_.' The next day we both went to her. Her table was already - covered with the notices of all the houses to let in the - neighbourhood of Paris. 'Nous allons visiter tout cela,' she said, - 'nous allons choisir.' Both Félix and I said it was impossible we - could accept such kindness, when we could do nothing for her in - return. 'Est que je veux _acheter_ votre amitié?' she said. She - repeatedly said that she wished nothing but to come and see us - sometimes, and that perhaps she should come every day. Thus we went - on for fifteen days, but both Félix and I felt it was impossible we - could accept so much from her; besides, Félix suffered so much from - his rheumatism, and he felt that the climate of Pisa might do him - good; besides which, our hearts always turned to Pisa, for it - seemed as if Providence had willed that we should go there, in - disposing that Madame Jacquet, who had a claim to our house for - her life, should die just at that time. We made a pretext of the - health of Félix to Madame de Trafford, but it was fifteen days - before she would accept our decision. 'Eh bien, vous voulez - toujours aller à votre masure la bas à Pise,' said Madame de - Trafford. She called our house a 'masure.' 'Eh bien, j'irai avec - vous, je veux aussi aller à Pise, moi.' She wrote to M. Trafford, - who came over to take leave of her, as he always does when she - leaves Paris, and she arranged her apartment.... 'Oh, comme c'est - une femme d'ordre, et comme son appartement est beau, le plus beau - que j'ai jamais vue, même à la cour.' Then she left Paris with us. - - "Voilà sa prévenance--the going to Pisa was in order that she might - undertake all the expenses of our journey. Quand elle est chez - elle, elle est très économe, mais quand elle voyage, elle voyage - grandement. Where another person would give two francs, Madame de - Trafford gives ten. She is always guided by her _seconde vue_: she - reads the character in the face. She wished us to travel - first-class, and she insisted on taking first-class tickets for us - all, but Félix absolutely refused to go in anything but a - second-class carriage. I travelled with Madame de Trafford. We went - first to Turin. Thence, 'pour donner distraction à Félix, étant - ancien militaire,' Madame de Trafford insisted on taking us to the - battle-fields of Solferino and Magenta. Elle nous a fait visiter - tout cela, et vraiment grandement. At last we reached Pisa. It was - then that Madame de Trafford first revealed to us that she intended - to rent our house. She insisted upon paying for it, not the usual - rent, but the same that she paid for her beautiful apartments in - the Hôtel de la Metropole, and nothing could turn her from this; - she was quite determined upon it. Every day she ordered a large - dinner; although she only ate a morsel of chicken herself, - everything was served and then removed. Félix served her. It was in - order that we might have food. It was the same with wine: she - always had a bottle of wine, Madeira or whatever it might be: a new - bottle was to be uncorked every day; she only drank half a glass - herself, but the same bottle was never allowed to appear twice. - - "Up to that time I had never entirely believed in her second-sight. - It was just after we arrived in Pisa that I became quite convinced - of it. I was astonished, on her first going into our house, to see - her walk up to one of the beds and feel at the mattresses, and then - she turned to me and said, 'On vous a volé, Victoire; vous avez mis - ici de la bonne laine, et on a mis la malsaine et vieille laine.' I - did not believe her at the time. I had sent money to Pisa to pay - for the re-stuffing of those very mattresses: afterwards I unripped - the mattresses, and found it was just as she said. From time to - time in England we had bought a little linen, because the house was - let without linen. M. Hare had left a thousand francs to Félix and - me. This was paid to us in London; therefore we had spent it in - carpets and linen. The carpets we sent at once to Pisa. The linen - was also sent, but it was left packed up in boxes under the care of - the woman who looked after the house. Soon after we arrived, Madame - de Trafford asked if I had any linen. I said 'Yes,' and going to - the boxes, unlocked them, and brought the sheets and towels which - she required. She felt at them, and then she said, 'On vous a volé - encore ici, Madame Victoire; vous avez mis de telles et telles - choses dans une telle et telle boîte.'--'Oui, c'est ainsi,' I - replied. 'Eh bien, on vous a volé telles et telles choses dans une - telle et telle boîte.' I rushed to look over the boxes, and it was - just as she said. The third time was when we went to Florence, for - she would take me to spend some days with her at Florence. She - bought me a beautiful black silk dress to wear when I went with - her, and it was one of her _prévenances_ that we should not go to - any hotel I had been in the habit of going to, for she wished me to - be entirely with her _sans aucune remarque_. When we went to - Florence, the two large boxes Madame de Trafford had brought with - her were left in the salon at Pisa. When we came back she said, - with her peculiar intonation, 'Je vous prie, Victoire, de compter - mes mouchoirs: savez-vous combien j'ai?'--'Mais oui, Madame; vous - en avez cinque paquets avec des douzaines en chaque.'--'Eh bien, - comptez-les: on m'a volé trois dans un paquet, deux dans un autre,' - &c. _Effectivement_ it was just as Madame de Trafford had said: it - must have been the same person who had taken my linen before. - - "It was always the custom at the convent of S. Antonio, which is - close to our house, that any poor people who chose to come to the - door on a Saturday should receive something. Madame de Trafford, - from her window, saw the people waiting, and asked me what it - meant. When I told her, she desired me to go to the convent and - find out exactly what it was they received. Madame de Trafford will - never be contradicted, so I went at once. When I came back I told - her that it was one kreutz or seven centimes. She thought this much - too little, and bade me give each of the people a paul. I sent the - money down to them. The result was that next time, instead of ten, - two or three hundred poor people came. They all received money. It - made quite a sensation in the quarter. The house used to be quite - surrounded and the streets blocked up by the immense crowds at that - time. It became necessary to fix a day. Thursday was appointed, - that was the day on which Madame de Trafford gave her alms. One day - from the window she saw a poor woman with a child in her arms. - 'Voilà une qui est bien malheureuse,' she said; 'descendez, je vous - prie, et donnez lui de l'argent sans compter.' One cannot disobey - Madame de Trafford. I went down directly, and gave a handful of - silver to the woman, shutting the door upon her thanks and leaving - her petrified with astonishment. - - "One day we went to Leghorn by the eleven-o'clock train (for she - always made me go with her). We descended at the hotel, and then - she desired me to order a carriage--'le plus bel équipage qu'on - pourrait avoir.' Soon afterwards the carriage came to the door: it - was a very poor carriage indeed, and the coachman wore a ragged - coat and a wide-awake hat. She seemed surprised, and asked me if I - could not have done better for her than that, and, knowing her - character, I was quite angry with the master of the hotel for - ordering such a carriage; but in reality there was no other, all - the others were engaged. So at length we got in, but when we had - gone some distance she began to fix her eyes upon the driver, and - said, 'Mais est-ce qu'on peut aller avec un cocher qui a un trou - comme ça dans son habit?' and she desired him to drive back to the - hotel. As we went back she said to me, 'Ce pauvre jeune homme doit - être bien malheureux, dites lui de venir à l'hôtel.' When we got - back to the inn, she desired me to procure everything that was - necessary to dress the young man, everything complete, and of the - best. But I could not undertake myself to dress the young man, so I - asked the master of the hotel to do it for me. At Leghorn this is - not so difficult, because there are so many ready-made shops. So - the landlord procured a complete set of clothes, coat, trousers, - waistcoat, boots, hat, everything, and Madame de Trafford gave - orders that he should be shaved and washed and sent in to her. When - he came in, the change was most extraordinary; he was such a - handsome young man that I should not have known him. But Madame de - Trafford only turned to me and said, 'Mais je vous ai ordonné de - lui procurer un habillement complet, et est-ce que vous pensez que - avec un habit comme ça, il peut porter cette vilaine vieille - chemise?' for she perceived directly that they had not changed his - shirt, which I had never thought of. The shirt was procured, but - there was always something wanting in the eyes of Madame de - Trafford. 'Mais que fera ce jeune homme,' she said, 's'il est - enrhumé, quand il n'a pas de mouchoirs de poche,' and then I was - obliged to get other shirts and socks, and cravats and - handkerchiefs--in short, a complete trousseau. And then a commoner - dress was wanted for the morning: and then the tailor was ordered - to come again with greatcoats. Of these he had two; one cost much - more than the other, but Madame de Trafford chose that which cost - the most. - - "Le jeune homme regardait tout ça comme un rêve. Il ne le croyait - pas, lui, et il disait rien du tout: il laissa faire. Il disait - après à Félix qu'il pensait que c'était des mystifications, et il - ne croyait pas à ce qu'il voyait. - - "At last, when all was completed and paid for in his presence, four - o'clock came, and he mounted on his box and drove us to the - station. All the little boys in the street, who had known him in - his old dress, ran along by the side of the carriage to stare at - him. At last, when we reached the station and were actually going - off, he began to believe, and flung himself on his knees before all - the people in his gratitude to Madame de Trafford. 'Je me suis - soulagée d'un poids en laissant ce jeune homme ainsi,' said Madame - de Trafford to me. - - [Illustration: LA SPINA, PISA.[307]] - - "After this," continued Victoire, "came the great floods in the - marshes near Pisa. When Madame de Trafford heard of the sufferings - which they caused, she bade me order a carriage and drive out there - with her. We drove as far as we could, and then we left the - carriage and walked along a little embankment between the waters to - where there were some cottages quite flooded, from which some poor - women crept out along some planks to the bank on which we were. - Before we left the hotel, Madame de Trafford had said, 'Mettez vos - grandes poches' (because she had made me have some very large - pockets made, very wide and deep, to wear under my dress and hold - her valuables when we travelled), and then she had said that I was - to fill them up to the brim with large piastres, without counting - what I took. I had shovelled piastres into my pockets by handfuls - till I was quite weighed down. I did not like doing it, but I was - obliged to do as she bade me. Then she said, 'Have you taken as - much as your pockets will hold? I wish them to be filled to the - brim.' When we arrived and saw the poor women, she said, - 'Donnez-leur des piastres, mais donnez-les par poignets, et surtout - ne comptez pas, ne comptez jamais.' So I took a large heap of - piastres, and put them into the hands of Madame de Trafford that - she might give them to the women. Then she began to be angry--'Je - vous ai dit de les donner, je ne les veux pas.' So I began to give - a handful of piastres to one woman and another, all without - counting; even to the children Madame de Trafford desired me to - give also. At first they were all quite mute with amazement, then - the women began to call aloud to me, 'E chi é questa principessa - benedetta, caduta dal cielo? dite chi é che possiamo - ringraziarla.'--'Qu'est-ce qu'ils disent donc,' said Madame de - Trafford. 'Mais, Madame, ils demandent quelle princesse vous êtes - qu'ils puissent vous remercier.'--'Dites les que je ne suis pas - princesse,' said Madame de Trafford, 'que je ne suis qu'une pauvre - femme faite en chair et os comme eux.' - - "Then Madame de Trafford asked them if there were no more poor - people there, and they went and fetched other poor women and - children, till there was quite a crowd. To them also she ordered me - to give piastres--'toujours sans compter'--till at last, through - much giving, my pockets were empty. Then Madame de Trafford was - really angry--'Je vous ai dit, Madame Victoire, de porter autant - que vous pouviez, et vous ne l'avez pas fait.'--'Mais, Madame, vous - ne m'avez pas dit de mettre quatre poches, vous m'avez dit de - mettre deux poches: ces deux poches étaient remplis, à present les - voilà vides.' - - "When we were turning to go away, all the people, who had not till - that moment believed in their good fortune, fell on their knees, - and cried, 'Oh, Signore, noi ti ringraziamo d'avere mandato questa - anima benedetta, e preghiamo per ella.'--'Mais retournez bien vite - à la voiture, mais montez donc bien vite, Madame Victoire,' said - Madame de Trafford, and we hurried back to the carriage; and the - coachman, concerning whom she had taken care that he should not see - what had happened, was amazed to see us coming with all this crowd - of poor women and children following us. When we were driving away, - Madame de Trafford said, 'Quel jour heureux pour nous, Madame - Victoire, d'avoir soulagé tant de misère; quel bonheur de pouvoir - faire tant de félicité avec un peu d'argent.'" - -After remaining many weeks at Pisa with Victoire, Madame de Trafford had -accompanied her to Rome, whither she went in December 1859 to arrange -the affairs of Italima at the Palazzo Parisani, and thence, having -fulfilled her mission, and seen Victoire comfortably established in her -Pisan home, Madame de Trafford had returned to Paris. - -In 1865 the journey from Pisa to Rome was still tiresome and difficult. -We went by rail to Nunziatella, and there a cavalcade was formed (for -mutual protection from the brigands), of six diligences with five horses -apiece, with patrols on each carriage, and mounted guards riding by the -side. The cholera had been raging, so at Montalto, one of the highest -points of the dreary Maremma, we were stopped, and those who were -"unclean"--_i.e._, had omitted to provide themselves with clean bills of -health at Leghorn--were detained for eight days' quarantine. We had -obtained "clean" bills, from the Spanish Consul, grounded upon the -hotel bills of the different places we had slept at since crossing the -Alps, and, with others of our kind, were taken into a small white-washed -room filled with fumes of lime and camphor, where we were shut up for -ten minutes, without other hurt than that any purple articles of dress -worn by the ladies came out yellow. Most dreary was the long -after-journey through a deserted region, without a house or tree or sign -of habitation, till at 10 p.m. we came in sight of the revolving light -of Civita Vecchia, beautifully reflected in the sea. Then I had to watch -all the luggage being fumigated for three midnight hours. However, -November 18 found us established in Rome, in the high apartment of the -Tempietto (Claude Lorraine's house), at the junction of the Via Sistina -and Via Gregoriana, with the most glorious view from its windows over -all the Eternal City, and a pleasant Englishwoman, Madame de Monaca, as -our landlady. Hurried travellers to Rome now can hardly imagine the -intense comfort and repose which we felt in old days in unpacking and -establishing ourselves in our Roman apartment, which it was worth while -to make really pretty and comfortable, as we were sure to be settled -there for at least four or five months, with usually far more freedom -from interruptions, and power of following our own occupations, than -would have attended us in our own home, even had health not been in -question. Most delightful was it, after the fatigues and (on my mother's -account) the intense anxieties of the journey, to wake upon the splendid -view, with its succession of aërial distances, and to know how many -glorious sunsets we had to enjoy behind the mighty dome which rose on -the other side of the brown-grey city. And then came the slow walk to -church along the sunny Pincio terrace, with the deepest of unimaginable -blue skies seen through branches of ilex and bay, and garden beds, -beneath the terraced wall, always showing some flowers, but in spring -quite ablaze with pansies and marigolds. - -The first time we went out to draw was to the gardens of S. Onofrio, -where, when we were last here, we used to be very much troubled by a -furious dog. We rang the bell, and the woman answered; she recognised -us, and, without any preliminary greetings, by an association of ideas, -exclaimed at once, "Il cane e morto." It was very Italian. - -So many people beset me during this winter with notes or verbal -petitions that I would go out drawing with them, that at last I wrote -on a sheet of paper a list of the days (three times a week) on which I -should go out sketching, and a list of the places I should go to, and -desiring that any one who wished to go with me would find themselves on -the steps of the Trinità de' Monti at 10 A.M., and sent it round to my -artistic acquaintance. To my astonishment, on the first day mentioned, -when I expected to meet one or two persons at most, I found the steps -covered by forty ladies, in many cases attended by footmen, carrying -their luncheon-baskets, camp-stools, &c. I introduced four ladies to -each other that they might drive out together to the Campagna, and I -generally tried to persuade those who had carriages of their own to -offer seats to their poorer companions. For a time all went radiantly, -but, in a few weeks, two-thirds of the ladies were "_en delicatesse_" -and, at the end of two months, they were all "_en froid_," so that the -parties had to be given up. Of the male sex there was scarcely ever any -one on these sketching excursions, except myself and my cousin Frederick -Fisher,[308] who was staying at Rome as tutor to the young Russian -Prince, Nicole Dolgorouki. He was constantly with us during the winter, -and was a great pleasure from his real affection for my mother, who was -very fond of him. - -In the spring Esmeralda came to Rome, and I used often to go to see her -in the rooms at Palazzo Parisani. She was very fragile then, and used to -lie almost all day upon an old velvet sofa, looking, except for the -heavy masses of raven hair which were still uncovered, almost like an -uncloistered nun, with her pale face and long black dress, unrelieved at -the throat, and with a heavy rosary of large black beads and cross at -her waist. - - _From my_ JOURNAL. - - "_Rome, Dec. 21, 1865._--Cardinal Cecchi died last week, and lay in - state all yesterday in his palace, on a high bier, with his face - painted and rouged, wearing his robes, and with his scarlet hat on - his head. Cardinals always lie in state on a high catafalque, - contrary to the general rule, which prescribes that the higher the - rank the lower the person should lie. Princess Piombino lay in - state upon the floor itself, so very high was her rank. - - "The Cardinal was carried to church last night with a grand - torchlight procession, which is always considered necessary for - persons of his rank; but it is expensive, as everything in Rome - costs double after the Ave Maria. The fee for a frate to walk at a - funeral is four baiocchi in the daytime, but after the Ave it is - eight baiocchi. When the Marchesa Ponziani was taken to church the - other day, all the confraternities in Rome attended with - torches.[309] - - "To-day at 10 A.M. the Cardinal was buried in the church at the - back of the Catinari. According to old custom, when he was put into - the grave, his head-cook walked up to it and said, 'At what time - will your Eminence dine?' For a minute there was no response, and - then the major-domo replied, 'His Eminence will not want dinner any - more (_non vuol altro_).' Then the head-footman came in and asked, - 'At what time will your Eminence want the carriage?' and the - major-domo replied, 'His Eminence will not want the carriage any - more.' Upon which the footman went out to the door of the church, - where the fat coachman sat on the box of the Cardinal's state - carriage, who said, 'At what time will his Eminence be ready for - the carriage?' and when the footman replied, 'La sua Eminenza non - vuol altro,' he broke his whip, and throwing down the two pieces on - either side the carriage, flung up his hands with a gesture of - despair, and drove off. - - "The other day Mrs. Goldsmid was in a church waiting for her - confessor, who was not ready to come out of the sacristy. While she - was waiting, two men came in carrying something between them, which - she soon saw was a dead frate. His robe was too short, and his - little white legs protruded below. They put him on a raised couch - with a steep incline and left him, and her agony was that he would - slip down and fall off, and then that the priests would think she - had done it. She became so nervous, that, as she kept her eyes - fixed on the body, it seemed to her to slip, slip, slip, till at - last she made sure the little man was coming down altogether, and - going to the sacristy door, she rang the bell violently, and - entreated to be let out of the church. - - "Mrs. Goldsmid says that the Pope, Pius IX., cannot stop spitting - even when he is in the act of celebrating mass.... Being very - jocose himself, he likes others to be familiar enough to amuse him. - The other day a friend asked Monsignor de Merode why the Pope was - so fond of him: he said it was because, when he saw the Pope in a - fit of melancholy, he always cut a joke and made him laugh, instead - of condoling with him. - - "The Pope is always thoroughly entertained at the stories which are - circulated as to his 'evil eye' and its effects, as well as those - about the 'evil eye' of the excellent and strikingly handsome - Monsignor Prosperi. When the fire occurred in the Bocca di Leone, - and the Pope was told of it, he said, 'How very extraordinary, for - Monsignor Prosperi was out of Rome, and I was not there.' - - "When the Pope, who does not speak good French, was talking of - Pusey, he said, 'Je le compare à une cloche, qui sonne, sonne, pour - appeler les fidèles à l'église, mais qui n'entre jamais.' - - "I think there can scarcely be any set of men whose individuality - is more marked than the present Cardinals.... Antonelli's manner - in carrying the chalice in St Peter's is reverent in the extreme. - Cardinal Ugolini, who is almost always with the Pope, never fails - to ruffle up his hair in walking down St. Peter's or the Sistine." - - - "_Christmas Day._--The Pope heard of the death of his sister, an - abbess, this morning, just as he was going to be carried into St. - Peter's, but the procession and the chair were waiting, and he was - obliged to go. The poor old man looked deadly white as he was - carried down the nave, and no wonder." - - - "_January 15, 1866._--Went, by appointment, with Mrs. Goldsmid to - the Church of SS. Marcellino e Pietro--the church with a roof like - that of a Chinese pagoda, in the little valley beneath St. John - Lateran. Inside it is a large Greek cross, and very handsome, with - marbles, &c. The party collected slowly, Mrs. De Selby and her - daughter, Mrs. Alfred Montgomery, Madame Sainte Aldegonde, the - Bedingfields, a French Abbé, Mrs. Dawkins, and ourselves. Soon a - small window shutter was opened to the left of the altar, and - disclosed a double grille of iron, beyond which was a small room in - the interior of the monastery. In the room, but close to the - grille, and standing sideways, with lighted candles in front of it, - was a very beautiful picture of the Crucifixion. It was much - smaller than life, and seemed to be a copy of Guido's picture in - the Lucina. The figure hung alone on the cross in the midst of a - dark wind-stricken plain, and behind it the black storm clouds were - driving through the sky, and beating the trees towards the ground. - As you looked fixedly at the face, the feeling of its intense - suffering and its touching patience seemed to take possession of - you and fill you. We all knelt in front of it, and I never took my - eyes from it. Very soon Mrs. Goldsmid said, 'I begin to see - something; do you not see the pupils of its eyes dilate?' Mrs. - Montgomery, in an ecstasy, soon after said, 'Oh, I see it: how - wonderful! what a blessing vouchsafed to us! See, it moves! it - moves!' Mrs. De Selby, who is always sternly matter-of-fact, and - who had been looking fixedly at it hitherto, on this turned - contemptuously away and said, 'What nonsense! it is a complete - delusion: you delude yourselves into anything; the picture is - perfectly still.' Mrs. Dawkins now declared that she distinctly saw - the eyes move. Lady Bedingfield would not commit herself to any - opinion. The French Abbé saw nothing. - - "Meanwhile Madame Ste. Aldegonde had fallen into a rapture, and - with clasped hands was returning thanks for the privilege - vouchsafed to her. 'Oh mon Dieu! mon Dieu! quelle grâce! quelle - grâce!' Shortly after this the French Abbé saw it also. 'Il n'y a - pas le moindre doute,' he said; 'il bouge les yeux, mais le voilà, - le voilà.' They all now began to distress themselves about Mrs. De - Selby. 'Surely you must see _something_,' they said; 'it is - impossible that you should see _nothing_.' But Mrs. De Selby - continued stubbornly to declare that she saw nothing. While Madame - Ste. Aldegonde was exclaiming, and when the scene was at its - height, I could fancy that I saw something like a scintillation, a - speculation, in one of the eyes of the Crucified One, but I could - not be certain. As we left the church, the other ladies said, - apropos of Mrs. De Selby, 'Well, you know, after all, it is not a - thing we are _obliged_ to believe,' and one of them, turning to - her, added consolingly, 'And you know you _did_ see a miracle at - Vicovaro.' - - "Mrs. Goldsmid declared that she was so shocked at my want of - faith, that she should take me immediately to the Sepolti Vivi, to - request the prayers of the abbess there. So we drove thither at - once. The convent is most carefully concealed. Opposite the Church - of S. Maria del Monte, a little recess in the street, which looks - like a _cul de sac_, runs up to one of those large street shrines - with a picture, so common in Naples, but of which there are very - few at Rome. When you get up to the picture, you find the _cul de - sac_ is an illusion. In the left of the shrine a staircase in the - wall leads you up round the walls of the adjoining house to a - platform on the roof. Here you are surrounded by heavy doors, all - strongly barred and bolted. In the wall there projects what looks - like a small green barrel. Mrs. Goldsmid stooped down and rapped - loudly on the barrel. This she continued to do for some time. At - last a faint muffled voice was heard issuing from behind the - barrel, and demanding what was wanted. 'I am Margaret Goldsmid,' - said our companion, 'and I want to speak to the abbess.'--'Speak - again,' said the strange voice, and again Mrs. G. declared that she - was Margaret Goldsmid. Then the invisible nun recognised the voice, - and very slowly, to my great surprise, the green barrel began to - move. Round and round it went, till at last in its innermost - recesses was disclosed a key. Mrs. Goldsmid knew the meaning of - this, and taking the key, led us round to a small postern door, - which she unlocked, and we entered a small courtyard. Beyond this, - other doors opened in a similar manner, till we reached a small - white-washed room. Over the door was an inscription bidding those - who entered that chamber to leave all worldly thoughts behind them. - Round the walls of the room were inscribed: 'Qui non diligit, manet - in morte'--'Militia est vita hominis super terram'--'Alter alterius - onera portate,' and on the side opposite the door-- - - 'Vi esorto a rimirar - La vita del mondo - Nella guisa che il mira - Un moribondo.' - - Immediately beneath this inscription was a double grille, and - beyond it what looked at first like pitch darkness, but what was - afterwards shown to be a thick plate of iron, pierced, like the - rose of a watering-pot, with small round holes, through which the - voice might penetrate. Behind this plate of iron the abbess of the - Sepolti Vivi receives her visitors. She is even then veiled from - head to foot, and folds of thick serge fell over her face. Pope - Gregory XVI., who of course could penetrate within the convent, - once wishing to try her faith, said to her, 'Sorella mia, levate il - velo.'--'No, mio Padre,' replied the abbess, 'é vietato dalle - regole del nostro ordine.' - - "Mrs. Goldsmid said to the abbess that she had brought with her two - heretics, one in a state of partial grace, the other in a state of - blind and outer darkness, that she might request her prayers and - those of her sisterhood. The heretic in partial grace was Mrs. - Dawkins, the heretic in blind darkness was myself. Then came back - the muffled voice of the abbess, as if from another world, 'Bisogna - essere convertiti, perchè ci si sta poco in questo mondo: bisogna - avere le lampane accese, perchè non si sa l'ora quando il Signore - chiamerà, ma bisogna che le lampane siano accese coll' olio della - vera fede, e se ve ne manca un solo articolo, se ne manca il - tutto.' There was much more that she said, but it was all in the - same strain. When she said, 'Se ve ne manca un solo articolo, se ne - manca il tutto,' Mrs. Goldsmid was very much displeased, because - she had constantly tried to persuade Mrs. Dawkins that it was _not_ - necessary to receive _all_, and the abbess had unconsciously - interfered with the whole line of her argument. Afterwards we asked - the abbess about her convent. They were 'Farnesiani,' she said; - 'Sepolti Vivi' was only 'un nome popolare;' but she did not know - why they were called Farnesiani, or who founded their order. She - said the nuns did not dig their graves every day, that also was - only a popular story. When they died, she said, 'they only enjoyed - their graves a short time, like the Cappuccini (a year, I think), - and then, if their bodies were whole when they were dug up, they - were preserved; but if their limbs had separated, they were thrown - away. She said the nuns could speak to their 'parenti stretti' four - times a year, but when I asked if they ever _saw_ them, she laughed - in fits at the very idea, 'ma perchè bisogna vederli?' Mrs. - Goldsmid was once inside the convent, but could not get an order - this year, because, when it had been countersigned by all the other - authorities, old Cardinal Patrizi remembered that she had been in - before, and withdrew it. - - "I heard afterwards that generally when the crucifixion at S. - Marcellino is shown, a nun of S. Teresa, with her face covered, and - robed from head to foot in a long blue veil, stands by it - immovable, like a pillar, the whole time." - - - "_January 27._--Gibson the sculptor died this morning. He was first - taken ill while calling on Mrs. Caldwell. She saw that he could not - speak, and, making him lie down, brought water and restoratives. He - grew better and insisted on walking home. She wished to send for a - carriage, but he would not hear of it, and he was able to walk home - perfectly. That evening a paralytic seizure came. Ever since, for - nineteen days and nights, Miss Dowdeswell had nursed him. He will - be a great loss to Miss Hosmer (the sculptress), whom he regarded - as a daughter. They used to dine together with old Mr. Hay every - Saturday. It was an institution. Mr. Gibson was writing his memoirs - then, and he used to take what he had written and read it aloud to - Mr. Hay on the Saturday evenings. Mr. Hay also dictated memoirs of - his own life to Miss Hosmer, and she wrote them down." - - - "_January 29._--I had a paper last night begging me to be present - at a meeting about Gibson's funeral, but I could not go. The - greater part of his friends wished for a regular funeral procession - on foot through the streets, but this was overruled by Colonel - Caldwell and others. A guard of honour, offered by the French - general, was however accepted. The body lay for some hours in the - little chapel at the cemetery, the cross of the Legion of Honour - fixed upon the coffin. It was brought to the grave with muffled - drums, all the artists following. Many ladies who had known and - loved him were crying bitterly, and there was an immense attendance - of men. The day before he died there was a temporary rally, and - those with him hoped for his life. It was during this time that the - telegraph of inquiry from the Queen came, and Gibson was able to - receive pleasure from it, and held it in his hand for an hour. - - "Gibson--'Don Giovanni,' as his friends called him--had a quaint - dry humour which was all his own. He used to tell how a famous - art-critic, whose name must not be mentioned, came to his studio to - visit his newly-born statue of Bacchus. 'Now pray criticise it as - much as you like,' said the great sculptor. 'Well, since you ask me - to find fault,' said the critic, 'I think perhaps there is - something not quite right about the left leg.'--'About the leg! - that is rather a wide expression,' said Gibson; 'but about what - part of the leg?'--'Well, just here, about the bone of the - leg.'--'Well,' said Gibson, 'I am relieved that _that_ is the fault - you have to find, for the bone of the leg is on the other side!' - - "Gibson used to relate with great gusto something which happened to - him when he was travelling by diligence before the time of - railways. He had got as far as the Mont Cenis, and, while crossing - it, entered into conversation with his fellow-traveller--an - Englishman, not an American. Gibson asked where he had been, and he - mentioned several places, and then said, 'There was one town I saw - which I thought curious, the name of which I cannot for the life of - me remember, but I know it began with an R.'--'Was it Ronciglione,' - said Gibson, 'or perhaps Radicofani?' thinking of all the - unimportant places beginning with R. 'No, no; it was a much shorter - name--a one-syllable name. I remember we entered it by a gate near - a very big church with lots of pillars in front of it, and there - was a sort of square with two fountains.'--'You cannot possibly - mean Rome?'--'Oh yes, Rome--that _was_ the name of the place.'" - - - "_February 4._--I spent yesterday evening with the Henry - Feildens.[310] Mrs. Feilden told me that in her girlhood her family - went to the Isle of Wight and rented St. Boniface House, between - Bonchurch and Ventnor. She slept in a room on the first floor with - her sister Ghita: the French governess and her sister Cha slept in - the next room, the English governess above. If they talked in bed - they were always punished by the English governess, who could not - bear them; so they never spoke except in a whisper. One night, when - they were in bed, with the curtains closely drawn, the door was - suddenly burst open with a bang, and something rushed into the room - and began to whisk about in it, making great draught and - disturbance. They were not frightened, but very angry, thinking - some one was playing them a trick. But immediately the curtains - were drawn aside and whisked up over their heads, and one by one - all the bed-clothes were dragged away from them, though when they - stretched out their hands they could feel nothing. First the - counterpane went, then the blankets, then the sheet, then the - pillows, and lastly the lower sheet was drawn away from _under_ - them. When it came to this she (Ellinor Hornby) exclaimed, 'I can - bear this no longer,' and she and her sister both jumped out of bed - at the foot, which was the side nearest the door. As they jumped - out, they felt the mattress graze against their legs, as it also - was dragged off the bed. Ghita Hornby rushed into the next room to - call the French governess, while Ellinor screamed for assistance, - holding the door of their room tightly on the outside, fully - believing that somebody would be found in the room. The English - governess and the servants, roused by the noise, now rushed - downstairs, and the door was opened. The room was perfectly still - and there was no one there. It was all tidied. The curtains were - carefully rolled, and tied up above the head of the bed: the sheets - and counterpane were neatly folded up in squares and laid in the - three corners of the room: the mattress was reared against the wall - under the window: the blanket was in the fireplace. Both the - governesses protested that the girls must have done it themselves - in their sleep, but nothing would induce them to return to the - room, and they were surprised the next morning, when they expected - a scolding from their mother, to find that she quietly assented to - the room being shut up. Many years after Mrs. Hornby met the lady - to whom the property belonged, and after questioning her about what - had happened to her family, the lady told her that the same thing - had often happened to others, and that the house was now shut up - and could never be let, because it was haunted. A murder by a lady - of her child was committed in that room, and she occasionally - appeared; but more frequently only the noise and movement of the - furniture occurred, and sometimes that took place in the adjoining - room also. St. Boniface House is mentioned as haunted in the - guide-books of the Isle of Wight." - - - "_Feb. 12._--Went in the morning with the Feildens to S. Maria in - Monticelli--a small church near the Ghetto. The church is not - generally open, and we had to ring at the door of the priest's - lodgings to get in: he let us into the church by a private passage. - In the right aisle is the famous picture over an altar. It is a - Christ with the eyes almost closed, weighed down by pain and - sorrow. The Feildens knelt before it, and in a very few minutes - they both declared that they saw its eyes open and close again. - From the front of the picture and on the right side of it, though I - looked fixedly at it, I could see nothing, but after I had looked - for a long time from the left side, I seemed to see the eyes - languidly close altogether, as if the figure were sinking - unconsciously into a fast sleep. - - "In the case of this picture, Pope Pius IX. has turned Protestant, - and, disapproving of the notice it attracted, after it was first - observed to move its eyes in 1859, he had it privately removed from - the church, and it was kept shut up for some years. Two years ago - it was supposed that people had forgotten all about it, and it was - quietly brought back to the church in the night. It has frequently - been seen to move the eyes since, but it has not been generally - shown. The sacristan said it was a '_regalo_' made to the church at - its foundation, and none knew who the artist was. - - "In the afternoon I was in St. Peter's with Miss Buchanan when the - famous Brother Ignatius[311] came in. He led 'the Infant Samuel' by - the hand, and a lay brother followed. He has come to Rome for his - health, and has brought with him a sister (Sister Ambrogia) and the - lay brother to wash and look after the Infant Samuel. He found the - 'Infant' as a baby on the altar at Norwich, and vowed him at once - to the service of the Temple, dressed him in a little habit, and - determined that he should never speak to a woman as long as he - lived. The last is extremely hard upon Sister Ambrogia, who does - not go sight-seeing with her companions, and having a very dull - time of it, would be exceedingly glad to play with the little - rosy-cheeked creature. The Infant is now four years old, and is - dressed in a white frock and cowl like a little Carthusian, and - went pattering along the church in the funniest way by the side of - the stately Brother Ignatius. He held the Infant up in his arms to - kiss St. Peter's toe, and then rubbed its forehead against his - foot, and did the same for himself, and then they both prostrated - themselves before the principal shrine, with the lay brother behind - them, and afterwards at the side altars, the Infant of course - exciting great attention and amusement amongst the canons and - priests of the church. A lady acquaintance of ours went to see - Brother Ignatius and begged to talk to the Infant. This was - declared to be impossible, the Infant was never to be allowed to - speak to a woman, but she might be in the same room with the Infant - if she pleased, and Brother Ignatius would then himself put any - questions she wished. She asked who its father and mother were, and - the Infant replied, 'I am the child of Jesus Christ and of the - Blessed Virgin and of the holy St. Benedict.' She then asked if it - liked being at Rome, 'Yes,' it said, 'I like being at Rome, for it - is the city of the holy saints and martyrs and of the blessed - Apostles Peter and Paul.' When we saw the party, they were just - come from the Pope, who told Brother Ignatius to remember that a - habit could not make a monk. - - "Miss Dowdeswell has been to see us, and given us a terrible - account of the misapplication of the Roman charities. She says the - people would rather beg, or even really die of want, than go into - most of the institutions--that the so-called soup is little more - than water, and that the inmates are really starved, besides which - the dirt and vermin are quite disgusting. The best hospital is that - of the 'Buon Fratelli,' where the people who obtain entrance are - kindly treated, but it is exceedingly difficult to get admittance, - and the hospital authorities will always say it is full, scarcely - ever taking in more than nine patients, though there is - accommodation for thirty, and each person admitted has to pay ten - scudi. At S. Michele, which is enormously endowed, and which - professes to be free, the patient is not only compelled to have a - complete outfit of bedding and everything else she requires, but - must pay three scudi a month for her maintenance as long as she - remains, yet for this will not have what she could procure for the - same sum elsewhere." - - - "_Feb. 15._--Went with the Eyres to Benzoni's studio. Amongst many - other statues was a fine group of a venerable old man raising a - little half-naked boy out of a gutter. 'Ecco il mio benefattore,' - said Benzoni. It was the likeness of Conte Luigi Taddini of Crema, - who first recognised the genius of Benzoni when making clay images - in the puddles by the wayside, and sent him to Rome at his own - expense for education. Count Taddini died six years after, but, in - the height of his fame, Benzoni has made this group as a voluntary - thank-offering and presented it to the family of his benefactor in - Crema. He was only twelve years old when adopted by Taddini. - - "A curious instance of presentiment happened yesterday. Some - charitable ladies, especially Mrs. McClintock,[312] had been - getting up a raffle for a picture of the poor artist Coleman, whom - they believed to be starving. The tickets cost five scudi apiece, - and were drawn yesterday. Just at the last moment Mrs. Keppel, at - the Pension Anglaise, had a presentiment that 77 would be the lucky - number, and she sent to tell Mrs. McClintock that if she could have - 77 she would take it, but if not, she would not take any number at - all. Seventy-seven happened to be Mrs. McClintock's own number. - However, she said that rather than Mrs. Keppel should take none, - she would give it up to her and take another. Mrs. Keppel took 77 - and she got the picture." - - - "_Feb. 24, 1866._--The other day little Nicole Dolgorouki came in - to dinner with a pencil in his hand. The Princess said, 'Little - boys should not sit at dinner with pencils in their hands;' upon - which the child of eight years old coolly replied, 'L'artiste ne - quitte jamais son crayon!' - - "When the Mother and Lea were both ill last week, our Italian - servants Clementina and (her daughter) Louisa groaned incessantly; - and when Clementina was taken ill on the following night, Louisa - gave up all hope at once, and sent for her other children to take - leave of her. This depression of spirits has gone on ever since - Christmas, and it turns out now that they think a terrible omen has - come to the house. No omen is worse than an upset of oil, but, if - this occurs on Christmas Eve, it is absolutely fatal, and on - Christmas Eve my mother upset her little table with the great - moderator lamp upon it. The oil was spilt all over her gown and the - lamp broken to pieces on the floor, with great cries of 'O - santissimo diavolo' from the servants. 'Only one thing can save us - now,' says Louisa; 'if Providence would mercifully permit that some - one should break a bottle of wine here by accident, that would - bring back luck to the house, but nothing else can.' - - "The Borgheses have had a magnificent fancy ball. Young Bolognetti - Cenci borrowed the armour of Julius II. from the Pope for the - occasion, and young Corsini that of Cardinal de Bourbon. The - Duchess Fiano went in the costume of the first Empire, terribly - improper in these days, and another lady went as a nymph just - emerged from a fountain, and naturally clothed as little as - possible. The Princess Borghese[313] was dreadfully shocked, but - she only said, 'I fear, Madame, that you must be feeling horribly - cold.' - - "When the French ambassador sent to the Pope to desire that he - would send away the Court of Naples, the Pope said he must decline - to give up the parental prerogative which had always belonged to - the Popes, of giving shelter to unfortunate princes of other - nations, of whatever degree or nation they might be, and 'of this,' - he added pointedly, 'the Bonapartes are a striking example.' The - French ambassador had the bad taste to go on to the Palazzo - Farnese, and, after condoling with the King of Naples[314] upon - what he had heard of his great poverty, said, 'If your Majesty - would engage at once to leave Rome, I on my part would promise to - do my best endeavours with my Government to obtain the restoration - of at least a part of your Majesty's fortune.' The King coldly - replied, 'Sir, I have heard that in all ages great and good men - have ended their days in obscurity and poverty, and it can be no - source of dread to me that I may be numbered amongst them.' - - "The Queen-mother of Naples[315] is still very rich, but is now a - mere nurse to her large family, with some of whom she is to be - seen--'gran' bel' pezzo di donna'--driving every day. When the King - returned from Caieta, she was still at the Quirinal, and went down - to the Piazza Monte Cavallo to receive him; but with him and the - Queen came her own eldest son, and, before noticing her sovereign, - she rushed to embrace her child, saying, 'Adesso, son pagato a - tutto.' - - "One sees the Queen of Naples[316] daily walking with her sister - Countess Trani[317] near the Porta Angelica, or threading the - carriages in the Piazza di Spagna, where the coachmen never take - off their hats, and even crack their whips as she passes. She wears - a straw hat, a plain violet linsey-woolsey dress, and generally - leads a large deerhound by a string. She is perfectly lovely. - - "The great Mother, Maria de Matthias,[318] has lately come down - from her mountains of Acuto to visit my sister, who has arrived in - Rome, and the confessor of the Venerable Anna Maria Taigi has also - visited her. I have read the life of this saint, and have never - found out any possible excuse for her being canonised, unless that - she married her husband because he was a good man, though he was - 'ruvido di maniere e grossolano.' - - "At dinner at Mr. Brooke's, I met the quaint and clever Mrs. - Payne, Madame d'Arblay's niece. She said that England had an honest - bad climate and Rome a dishonest good one. - - "Count Bolognetti Cenci is marvellously handsome, face and figure - alike perfect. Some people maintain that Don Onorato Caiëtani is - equally handsome. He has the extraordinary plume of white hair - which is hereditary in the Caiëtani family. His father, the Duke of - Sermoneta, said the other day, with some pardonable pride, 'Our - ancestors were reigning sovereigns (in Tuscany) long before the - Pope had any temporal power.' - - "We have been to the Villa Doria to pick 'Widowed Iris,' which the - Italians call 'I tre Chiodi del Nostro Signore,'--the three nails - of our Saviour's cross. - - "My sister declares that when Madame Barrère, late superior of the - Order of the Sacré Cœur, was in her great old age, a Catholic - lady who was married to a Protestant came to her and implored her - to promise that, as soon as she entered heaven, her first petition - should be for her husband that he might be a Catholic. Soon after - this the Protestant husband was taken alarmingly ill, but gave his - wife no hope that he would change his religion; yet, to her great - surprise, when he was dying he bade her send for a priest. She - considered this at first as a result of delirium, but he insisted - upon the priest coming, and, rallying soon after, was received into - the Roman Catholic Church. In a few days came the news of the death - of Madame Barrère, and on inquiry it was found that the moment of - her death and that of the Protestant sending for the priest exactly - coincided." - - - "_March 13._--The Roman princes are generally enormously rich. - Tortonia is said to have an income which gives him 7000 scudi - (£1200) a day. He is very charitable, and gives a great many - pensions of a scudo a day to poor individuals of the _mezzoceto_ - class. The Chigis used to be immensely rich, but were ruined by old - Princess Chigi, who gambled away everything she could get hold of. - When one of her sons was to be made a Monsignore, a collection was - arranged amongst the friends of the family to pay the expenses, but - they imprudently left the rouleaux of money on the chimney-piece, - where the old Princess spied them, and snapping them up, - _gioccolare_-d them all away. The Massimi are rich, but the old - Prince[319] is very miserly. The other day he told his cook that he - was going to give a supper, but that it must not cost more than - fifteen baiocchi a head, and that he must give minestra. The cook - said it was utterly impossible, but the Prince declared he did not - care in the least about 'possible,' only it must be done. The - supper came off, and the guests had minestra. The next day the - Prince said to his cook, 'Well, now, you see you could do it - perfectly well; what was the use of making such a fuss about it?' - The cook said 'Yes, I _did_ it, but would you like to know where I - got the bones from that made the soup?' The Prince shrugged his - shoulders and said, 'Oh no, I don't want in the least to know about - that; so long as you do your suppers for my price, you may get your - bones wherever you like.' The cook told his friends afterwards that - he got them at the Immondezzajo!" - - - "_March 25._--Last January my sister wanted to engage a new maid. - The mistress of a famous flower shop at Paris recommended her - present maid, 'Madame Victorine,' who came to the hotel to see - Esmeralda, who was delighted with her, only thinking her too good - for the place. The new maid only made two stipulations: one was - that she should always be called _Madame_ Victorine; the other, - that she should not be expected to have her meals with the other - servants. My sister said that as to the first stipulation, there - would be no difficulty at all; that she had always called her - mother's maid 'Madame Victoire,' and that she could have no - objection to calling her Madame Victorine; but that as to the - second stipulation, though she insisted upon nothing, and though - Madame Victorine would be perfectly free to take her food away and - eat it wherever she pleased, yet she did not advise her to make any - difficulty of this kind, as they were going to Italy, where the - servants have jealous natures, and would be peculiarly liable to - resent anything of the sort. Upon this Madame Victorine waived her - second stipulation. - - "Esmeralda was surprised, when Madame Victorine came to her, to - find how well she had been educated and little traces of her having - belonged to a higher position several times appeared by accident, - upon which occasions Madame Victorine would colour deeply and try - to hide what she had said. Thus, once she was betrayed into saying, - 'I managed in that way with my servants;' and once in the railway, - 'I did so when I was travelling with my son.' My sister observed - not only that all her dresses were of the best silk though - perfectly plain, but that all her cuffs, collars, and handkerchiefs - were of the very best and finest material. But the oddest - circumstance was, that once when Esmeralda was going to seal a - letter, having no seal about her, she asked Madame Victorine if she - had one. Madame Victorine lent her one, and then, colouring - violently, as if she remembered something, tried to snatch it away, - but Esmeralda had already pressed it down, and saw on the - impression a coronet and a cipher. When my sister first told Madame - Victorine that she was too good for the place, she seemed greatly - agitated and exclaimed, 'Oh don't, don't change your mind, do take - me: I will consent to do anything, only do take me.' - - "One day since they have been at Palazzo Parisani, Esmeralda was - looking for something amongst her music. 'You will find it in such - an opera,' said Madame Victorine. 'Why, do you play also?' said - Esmeralda, much surprised. 'Yes,' said Madame Victorine, colouring - deeply. 'Then will you play to me?' said my sister. 'Oh no, no,' - said Madame Victorine, trembling all over. 'Then I hope you will - play sometimes when I am out,' said Esmeralda, and this Madame - Victorine said she would do, and it seemed to please her very - much."[320] - - - "_March 26._--The Santa Croce are perhaps really the oldest family - in Rome. They claim descent from Valerius Publicola, and the - spirit of his life, that which characterised 'the good house that - loved the people well,' still remains in the family. The other day - Donna Vincenza Santa Croce was speaking of the Trinità de' - Monti,[321] and the system of education there, and she said, 'I do - so dislike those nuns: they are so worldly: they do so give in to - rank, for when a girl of one of the great noble houses is there, - they will make all the other girls stand up when she comes into a - room! But this, you know, is not right, for it is only goodness and - talent, not rank, that ought to make people esteemed in the world.' - And was not this the spirit of Valerius Publicola speaking through - his descendant?" - - - "_March 27._--Last Sunday (Palm Sunday) was the last day of the - 'mission' which the Pope had appointed in the hope of warding off - both the cholera and the destruction of his own power. All the week - processions had paraded the streets and monks had preached in the - piazzas, rousing the feelings of the people in behalf of the Holy - Father, and last Sunday it all came to a close. Giacinta, 'the - Saint of St. Peter's,' came to tell my sister about the scene at - Santo Spirito, where she was. A Passionist Father took a real crown - of thorns and pressed it upon his head three times, till the thorns - sank deep into the flesh, and the blood ran in streams down his - face and over his dress. The people cried and sobbed convulsively, - and were excited to frenzy when he afterwards took a 'disciplina' - and began violently to scourge himself before all the congregation. - One man sobbed and screamed so violently that he was dragged out by - the carabinieri. Whilst the feelings of the people were thus - wrought up, the father besought and commanded them to deliver up - all books they possessed which were mentioned in the Index, - tambourines and things used in dancing the saltarella, and all - weapons,--and all through that afternoon they kept pouring in by - hundreds, men bringing their books, and women their tambourines, - and many their knives and pistols, which were piled up into a great - heap in the courtyard of the Santo Spirito and set on fire. It was - a huge bonfire, which burnt quite late into the evening, and whilst - it burnt, more people were perpetually arriving and throwing on - their books and other things, just as in the old days of Florence - under the influence of Savonarola. - - "Last Thursday at the Caravità, the doors of the church were - 'closed at one hour of the day' (_i.e._, after Ave Maria), only men - being admitted, and when they were fast, scourges were distributed, - the lights all put out, and every one began to scourge both - themselves and their neighbours, any one who had ventured to remain - in the church without using a 'disciplina' being the more - vigorously scourged by the others. At such times all is soon a - scene of the wildest confusion, and shrieks and groans are heard on - all sides. Some poor creatures try to escape by clinging to the - pillars of the galleries, others fly screaming through the church - with their scourgers pursuing them like demons. - - "They say that the reason why St. Joseph's day was so much kept - this year is that the Pope is preparing the public mind to receive - a dogma of the Immaculate Conception of St. Joseph--perhaps to be - promulgated next year: St. Anne is to be reserved to another time." - - - "_April 1, Easter Sunday._--Passion Week has been very odd and - interesting, but not reverent. It was very curious to see how--as - Mrs. Goldsmid says, 'the Church always anticipates,' so that the - Saviour, personified by the Sacrament, is laid in the tomb long - before the hour of His death, and Thursday, not Saturday, is the - day upon which all the faithful go about to visit the - sepulchres.[322] My sister decorated that of S. Claudio with - flowers and her great worked carpet. The Mother recalls John - Bunyan's confession of faith-- - - 'Blest cross, blest sepulchre,--blest rather He, - The Man that there was put to shame for me.' - - "We went to the Benediction in the Piazza S. Pietro--a glorious - blue sky and burning sunshine, and the vast crowd making the whole - scene very grand, especially at the moment when the Pope stretched - out his arms, and, hovering over the crimson balcony like a great - white albatross, gave his blessing to all the world. Surely nothing - is finer than that wonderful voice of Pius IX., which, without ever - losing its tone of indescribable solemnity, yet vibrates to the - farthest corners of the immense piazza. - - "Afterwards we went to S. Andrea della Valle to see the 'sepolcro;' - but far more worth seeing was a single ray of light streaming in - through a narrow slit in one of the dark blinds, and making a - glistening pool of gold upon the black pavement. - - "On Good Friday, after the English service, we went to Santo - Spirito in Borgo, where, after waiting an hour and a half, seeing - nothing but the curiously ragged congregation, we found that the - 'Tre Ore' was to be preached in broad Trasteverino, of which we - could not understand a word. We went into St. Peter's, which was in - a state of widowhood, no bells, no clock, no holy water, no - ornaments on any of the altars, no lamps burning at the shrine, and - all because the Sacrament was no longer present. We went again in - the afternoon, when the whole building was thickly crowded from end - to end. I stood upon the ledge of one of the pillars and watched - two graceful ladies and a gentlemanly-looking man in black - buffetted in the crowd below me: they were the King and Queen of - Naples and the Countess Trani. Some zealous Bourbonists kissed - their hands at risk of being trampled on. - - "To-day St. Peter's and all the other churches have come to life - again: the Sacrament has been restored: the bells have rung: and - fire and water have been re-blessed for the year to come. All - private Catholic houses too have had their blessings. A priest and - a boy surprised Lea by coming in here and blessing everything, and - she found them asperging the Mother's bed with holy water, all at - the desire of our fellowlodger, Mr. Monteith of Carstairs, whom - Louisa described as dropping gold pieces into their water-vessel. - At Palazzo Parisani, as well as below us, a 'colazione' was set - out, with a great cake, eggs, &c., and after being blessed was - given away. - - "Antonelli has just been made a priest, in the vague idea, I - suppose, that it might some day be convenient to raise him to the - papacy. - - "Mr. Perry Williams, the artist, thought the old woman who cleans - out his studio looked dreadfully ill the other day, and said, 'You - look very bad, what on earth is the matter with you?'--'Cosa vuole, - Signore, ho avuto una digestione tutta la notte.'" - - - "_April 3._--This morning poor little Miss Joyce lay in a chapelle - ardente at S. Andrea delle Fratte, and all the English Catholics, - with the Borgheses and Dorias, who were her cousins, attended the - requiem mass. She was only alarmingly ill for thirty-six hours, of - brain fever, caused by a dose of twenty-five grains of quinine - after typhus, which she had brought back from Naples. She had been - the gayest of the gay all the season, and a week ago was acting in - tableaux and singing at Mrs. Cholmondeley's party. It is said that - at least one young lady is killed every year by being taken to - Naples when she is overdone by the balls and excitement here. - - "My sister gave a small party yesterday evening. The Duke and - Duchess Sora were there. The Duchess has a wonderfully charming - expression. K., a young Tractarian, was introduced to her. She said - afterwards, 'J'ai pensé longtemps qu'il était catholique, et puis - j'ai tourné, j'ai tourné, j'ai tourné, et voilà qu'il était - protestant!'" - - - "_April 8._--On Thursday, at the Monteiths', I met Lady Herries, - Mrs. Montgomery, my sister, and many other Catholics. They were all - assembled before dinner to receive Cardinal de Reisach, a very - striking-looking old man, whose white hair and brilliant scarlet - robes made a splendid effect of colour. - - "On Friday, at 2 P.M., I joined the Feildens to go to the Palazzo - Farnese. Mrs. F. wore a high grey dress without a bonnet: little - Helen was in black velvet, with all her pretty hair flowing over - her shoulders; Mr. Robartes, Mr. Feilden, and I wore evening dress. - The whole way in the carriage my companions declared they felt more - terrified than if they were going to a dentist, as bad as if they - were going to have their legs taken off. We drove into the - courtyard of the Farnese and to the foot of the staircase. Several - other people were just coming down. We were shown through one long - gallery after another to a small salon furnished with green, where - the Duca della Regina and an old lady received us. Soon the door - was opened at the side, and in very distinct tones the Duke - mentioned our names. Just within the door stood Francis II. He - looked grave and sad, and his forehead seemed to work convulsively - at moments; still I thought him handsome. The Queen sat on a sofa - at the other side of the room. She was in a plain black mourning - dress with some black lace in her hair (for Queen Marie Amelie, her - husband's aunt). The room was a boudoir, hung round with family - portraits. There was a beautiful miniature of the Queen on the - table near which I sat. - - "I went up at once to the King and made as if I would kiss his - hand, but he shook mine warmly and made me sit in an arm-chair - between him and the Queen. Mrs. Feilden in the meantime had gone - direct to the Queen, who seated her by her side upon the sofa, and - taking little Helen on her lap, kissed her tenderly, and said she - remembered her, having often seen her before. I said, 'Ce petit - enfant a tant de dévouement pour sa Majesté la Reine, qu'elle va - tous les jours à la Place d'Espagne seulement pour avoir le bonheur - de voir sa Majesté quand elle passe.' The Queen's eyes filled with - tears, and she hid her face in Helen's hair, which she kissed and - stroked, saying, 'Oh mon cher enfant, mon cher petit enfant!' - - "The King then said something about the great rains we had - suffered. I mentioned the prophecy if it rained on the 4th April-- - - 'Quattro di brillante, - Quaranta di durante,' - - and the King said that in Naples there was a superstition of the - same kind as that of our St. Swithin in England. - - "As another set of people came in, we rose to go, kissing the - Queen's hand, except Helen, who kissed her face. The King[323] - shook hands and walked with us to the door, expressing a wish that - we should return to Rome; and replying, when I said how much my - mother benefited by the climate here, that Madame my mother ought - always to make the most of whatever climate suited her health and - remain in it. In the anteroom the Duca della Regina and the old - lady were waiting to see Helen again. - - "To-day Mrs. Ramsay asked me the difference between the Italian - words _mezzo-caldo_ and _semi-freddo_. One would think they were - the same, but _mezzo-caldo_ is hot punch and _semi-freddo_ is cold - cream!" - -I have put in these extracts from my journal, as they describe a state -of things at Rome which seemed then as if it would last for ever, but -which is utterly swept away now and rapidly passing into oblivion. The -English society was as frivolous then as it is now, but much more -primitive. It was the custom in those days, when any one gave a larger -party than usual, to ask Mrs. Miller, a respectable old Anglo-German -baker who lived in the Via della Croce, to make tea and manage the -refreshments, and one knew whether the party that one was invited to was -going to be a large or small one by looking to see if there was "To meet -Mrs. Miller" in the corner. - -[Illustration: CONTADINA, VALLEY OF THE SACCO.[324]] - -Our days were for the most part spent in drawing, and many were the -delightful hours we passed in the Villa Negroni, which has now entirely -disappeared, in spite of its endless historic associations, or in the -desolate and beautiful _vigne_ of the Esquiline, which have also been -destroyed since the Sardinian occupation of Rome. Indeed, those who -visit Rome now that it is a very squalid modern city, can have no idea -of the wealth and glory of picturesqueness which adorned its every -corner before 1870, or of how romantic were the passing figures--the -crimson Cardinals; the venerable generals of religious orders with their -flowing white beards; the endless monks and nuns; the pifferari with -their pipes; the peasant women from Cori and Arpino and Subiaco, with -their great gold earrings, coral necklaces, and snowy head-dresses; the -contadini in their sheep-skins and goat-skins; the handsome stalwart -Guardia Nobile in splendid tight-fitting uniforms; and above all, the -grand figure and beneficent face of Pius IX. so frequently passing, -seated in his glass coach, in his snow-white robes, with the stoic -self-estimation of the Popes, but with his own kindly smile and his -fingers constantly raised in benediction. - -[Illustration: THE BRIDGE OF AUGUSTUS, NARNI.[325]] - -The heat was very great before we left Rome in April. We went first to -Narni, where we stayed several days in a very primitive lodging, with -the smallest possible amount of furniture, and nothing to eat except -cold goat and rosemary, but in a glorious situation on the terrace -which overlooks the deep rift of the Nar, clothed everywhere with ilex, -box, and arbutus; and we spent long hours drawing the two grand old -bridges--Roman and Mediæval--which stride across the river, even Lea -being stimulated by the intense beauty to a trial of her artistic -powers, and making a very creditable performance of the two grand -cypresses on the slope of the hill, which have disappeared under the -Sardinian rule. - -[Illustration: THE MEDIÆVAL BRIDGE, NARNI.[327]] - -We spent a happy day at Spoleto, with its splendid ilex woods. Here my -friends Kilcoursie[326] and Pearson joined us, and I went with them to -spend the morning at the Temple of the Clitumnus, and returned just too -late for the train we had intended to leave by. It is very -characteristic of the slowness of those early days of Italian railways, -that though we did not order our carriage till some time after the train -was gone, we reached Perugia by road, in spite of the steep hill to be -climbed, before the train which we were to have taken arrived on the -railway. This evening's drive (April 23) is one of the Italian journeys -I look back upon with greatest pleasure, the going onwards through the -rich plain of vines and almonds and olives, and all the blaze of spring -tulips and gladioli, and the stopping to buy the splendid oranges from -the piles which lay in the little market under the old cathedral of -Foligno; then seeing the sky turn opal behind the hills, and deepen in -colour through a conflagration of amber, and orange, and crimson, of -which the luminousness was never lost, though everything else -disappeared into one dense shadow, and the great cypresses on the -mountain edges were only dark spires engraven upon the sky. How many -such evenings have we spent, ever moving onwards at that stately smooth -_vetturino_ pace--and silent, Mother absorbed in her heavenly, I in my -earthly contemplations; dear Lea, tired by her long day, often sleeping -opposite to us against the hand-bags. - -We spent several days in Florence in 1866, when the streets were already -placarded with such advertisements as 'I Menzogne di Genese, o -l'Impostatura di Mosé'--typical of the change of Government. I paid -several visits to the Comtesse d'Usedom (the Olympia Malcolm of my -childhood), who was more extraordinary than ever. When I went to -luncheon with her in the Villa Capponi, she talked incessantly for three -hours, chiefly of spirits. - -[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS, FLORENCE.[328]] - - "I believe in them," she said, "of course I do. Why, haven't I - _heard_ them?" (with a perfect yell). "Why, I've seen a child whom - we knew most intimately who was perfectly possessed by - spirits--evil spirits, I mean. There is nothing efficacious - against _that_ kind but prayer and the crucifix. Why, the poor - little thing used to struggle for hours. It used to describe the - devils it saw. They were of different kinds. Sometimes it would - say, 'Oh, it's only one of the innocent blackies,' and then it - would shriek when it thought it saw a red devil come. It was the - red devils that did all the mischief. All the best physicians were - called in, but they all said the case was quite beyond them. The - possession sometimes came on twice in a day. It would end by the - child gasping a great sigh, as if at that moment the evil spirit - went out of it, and then quite calmly it would open its eyes, - wonder where it was, and remember nothing of what had happened. The - doctors urged that the child should not be kept quiet, but taken - abroad and amused, and mama writes me word now that it is quite - well. - - "I never saw the ghosts at Rugen," said Madame von Usedom, "but - there is one of Usedom's houses there which I have refused ever to - go to again, for I have heard them there often. The lady in the - room with me saw them too--she saw three white sisters pulling her - husband out of his grave. - - "We have an old lady in our family, a relation of Usedom's, who has - that wonderful power of second-sight.... When we left you at - Bamberg (in 1853), we went to Berlin, and there we saw Usedom's - relation, who told me that I was going to have a son. She 'saw it,' - she said. _Saw it!_ why, she saw it as plain as daylight: I was - going to have a son: Usedom's first wife had brought him none, and - I was going to give him one. - - "When I left Berlin, we went to Rugen, but I was to return to - Berlin, where my son was to be born. Well, about three weeks before - my confinement was expected, the old lady sent for a relation of - Usedom's, who was in Berlin, and said, 'Have you heard anything of - Olympia?'--'Yes,' he said, 'I heard from Usedom yesterday, and she - is going on as well as possible, and will be here in a few - days.'--'No,' said the old lady, 'she will not, for the child is - dead. Yesterday, as I was sitting here, three angels passed through - my room with a little child in their arms, and the face of the - child was so exactly like Usedom's, that I know that the child is - born and that it is in heaven.' And so it was. I had a bad fall in - Rugen, which we thought nothing of at the time. I had so much - strength and courage that it did not seem to affect me; but a week - after my boy was born--dead--killed by that fall, and the image, - oh! the very image of Usedom." - -From Florence we went to Bellagio on the Lago di Como, and spent a week -of glorious weather amid beautiful flowers with nightingales singing in -the trees all day and night. Many of our Roman friends joined us, and we -passed pleasant days together in the garden walks and in short -excursions to the neighbouring villas. When we left Bellagio, the two -Misses Hawker, often our companions in Rome, accompanied us. We ascended -the Splugen from Chiavenna in pitch darkness, till, about 4 A.M., the -diligence entered upon the snow cuttings, and we proceeded for some time -between walls of snow, often fifteen feet high. At last we stopped -altogether, and in a spot where there was no refuge whatever from the -ferocious ice-laden wind. Meantime sledges were prepared, being small -open carts without wheels, which just held two persons each: my mother -and I were in the second, Lea and an Italian in the third, and the -Hawkers in the fourth: we had no man with our sledge. The sledges -started in procession, the horses stumbling over the ledges in the snow, -from which we bounded up and down. At last the path began to wind along -the edge of a terrific precipice, where nothing but a slight edging of -fresh snow separated one from the abyss. Where this narrow path turned -it was truly horrible. Then came a tunnel festooned with long icicles; -then a fearful descent down a snow-drift almost perpendicularly over the -side of the mountain, the horses sliding on all fours, and the sledges -crashing and bounding from one hard piece of snow to another; all this -while the wind blew furiously, and the other sledges behind seemed -constantly coming upon us. Certainly I never remember anything more -appalling. - -At the bottom of the drift was another diligence, but the Hawkers and I -walked on to Splugen. - -[Illustration: HOLMHURST, FROM THE GARDEN.] - -We spent an interesting afternoon at Brugg, and drew at Königsfelden, -where the Emperor Albert's tomb is left deserted and neglected in a -stable, and Queen Agnes's room remains highly picturesque, with many -relics of her. In the evening we had a lovely walk through the forest to -Hapsburg, where we saw a splendid sunset from the hill of the old -castle. With a glimpse at Freiburg-im-Breisgau, we reached Carlsruhe, -with which we were very agreeably surprised. The Schloss Garten is -really pretty, with fine trees and fountains: the town is bright and -clean; and all around is the forest with its endless pleasant paths. We -found dear Madame de Bunsen established with her daughters Frances and -Emilia in a nice old-fashioned house, 18 Waldhornstrasse, with all their -pictures and treasures around them, the fine bust of Mrs. Waddington in -itself giving the room a character. Circling round the aunts were -Theodora von Ungern Sternberg's five motherless children, a perpetual -life-giving influence to the home. We went with them into the forest and -to the _faisanerie_, and picked masses of wild lilies of the valley. In -the palace gardens we saw the Grand Duke and Grand Duchess, a very -handsome couple: she the only daughter of the King of Prussia. At the -station also I saw again, and for the last time, the very pleasing Queen -Emma of the Sandwich Islands, and presented the Bunsens to her.[329] On -the eve of Trinity Sunday we reached home. - - _From my_ JOURNAL. - - "_July 30, 1866.--Holmhurst._--Another happy summer! How different - my grown-up-hood has been to my boyhood: now all sunshine, then all - reproach and misery. How strange it is that my dearest mother - remembers nothing of those days, _nothing_ of those years of bitter - heartache which my uncles' wives cost me. But her present love, her - beautiful full heart devotion, are all free-will offering, not - sacrifice of atonement. Our little Holmhurst is most lovely and - peaceful." - -[Illustration: Lady Augusta Stanley] - -[Illustration: ALTON BARNES CHURCH.] - -In August we spent a fortnight at the Deanery at Westminster with Arthur -and Augusta Stanley, the latter _fit les delices_ of all who came under -her influence, and both were most kind in asking every one to meet us -that they thought we could be interested to see. To me, however, no one -was ever half so interesting as Arthur himself, and his conversation at -these small Deanery dinner-parties was most delightful, though, as I -have heard another say, and perhaps justly, "it was always versatile -rather than accurate, brilliant rather than profound." From London we -went to look after our humble friends at Alton, where all the villagers -welcomed my mother with a most touching wealth of evergreen love, and -where forty old people came to supper by her invitation in the barn. The -owls hissed overhead in the oak rafters; the feast was lighted by -candles stuck into empty ginger-beer bottles, and in quavering voices -they all drank the mother's health. She made them a sweet little speech, -praying that all those who were there might meet with her at the great -supper of the Lamb. I had much interest at Alton in finding out those -particulars which form the account of the place in "Memorials of a Quiet -Life." The interest of the people, utterly unspoilt by "civilisation," -can hardly be described, or the simplicity of their faith. Speaking of -her long troubles and illness, "Betty Smith" said, "I ha' been sorely -tried, but it be a' to help I on to thick there place." William Pontyn -said, "It just be a comfort to I to know that God Almighty's always at -whom: _He_ never goes out on a visit." Their use of fine words is very -comical. Old Pontyn said, "My son-in-law need na treat I ill, for I -niver gied un no _publication_ for it." He thanked mother for her -"respectable gift," and said, "I do thank God ivery morning and ivery -night, that I do; and thank un as I may, I niver can thank un enough, He -be so awful good to I." He said the noise the threshing-machine made -when out of order was "fierly ridic'lous," and that he was "fierly -gallered (frightened) at it"--that he was "obliged to _flagellate_ the -ducks to get them out of the pond." - -I drove with Mr. Pile to see the remains of Wolf Hall, on the edge of -Savernake Forest, where Henry VIII. married Jane Seymour. The house, -once of immense size, is nearly destroyed. The roof of the -banqueting-hall is now the roof of a barn. The beautiful fragment of -building remaining was once the laundry. Hard by, at Burbage, is "Jane -Seymour's Pool." - -After leaving Alton, as if making the round of my mother's old homes, we -went to Buntingsdale, Hodnet, and Stoke. While at the former, I remember -the Tayleurs being full of the promptitude of old Mrs. Massie (whose son -Edward married our cousin Sophy Mytton). When above ninety she had been -taken to see the church of Northwich, where some one pointed out to her -a gravestone with the epitaph-- - - "Some have children, and some have none; - Here lies the mother of twenty-one." - -Old Mrs. Massie drew herself up to her full height and at once made this -impromptu-- - - "Some have many, and some have few; - Here _stands_ the mother of twenty-two." - -And what she said was true. - -My mother turned south from Shropshire, and I went to Lyme, near Disley, -the fine old house of the Leghs, whose then head, W. T. Legh, had -married Emily Wodehouse, one of the earliest friends of my childhood. It -is a most stately old house, standing high in a very wild park, one of -the only three places where wild cattle are not extinct. The story of -the place is curious. - - "Old Colonel Legh of Lyme left his property first to his son Tom, - but though Tom Legh was twice married, he had no sons, so it came - to the father of the present possessor. Tom's first wife had been - the celebrated Miss Turner. Her father was a Manchester - manufacturer, who had bought the property of Shrigley, near Lyme, - of which his only daughter was the heiress. She was carried off - from school by a conspiracy between three brothers named Gibbon - Wakefield and a Miss Davis, daughter of a very respectable master - of the Grammar School at Macclesfield. While at school, Miss Turner - received a letter from home which mentioned casually that her - family had changed their butler. Two days after, a person - purporting to be the new butler came to the school, and sent in a - letter to say that Mr. Turner was dangerously ill, and that he was - sent to fetch his daughter, who was to return home at once. In the - greatest hurry, Miss Turner was got ready and sent off. When they - had gone some way, the carriage stopped, and a young man got in, - who said that he had been sent to break to her the news that her - father's illness was a fiction; that they did not wish to spread - the truth by letting the governess know, but that the fact was that - Mr. Turner had got into some terrible money difficulties and was - completely ruined, and he begged that his daughter would proceed at - once to meet him in Scotland, whither he was obliged to go to evade - his creditors. During the journey the young man who was sent to - chaperon Miss Turner made himself most agreeable. At last they - reached Berwick, and then at the inn, going out of the room, he - returned with a letter and said that he was almost afraid to tell - her its contents, but that it was sent by her father's command, and - that he only implored her to forgive him for obeying her father's - orders. It was a most urgent letter from her father, saying that it - rested with her to extricate him from his difficulties, which she - could do by consenting to marry the bearer. The man was handsome - and pleasant, and the marriage seemed no great trial to the girl, - who was under fifteen. Immediately after marriage she was taken to - Paris. - - "Meantime all the gentlemen in the county rallied round Mr. Turner, - and he contrived somehow to get his daughter away whilst she was in - Paris. Suspicion had been first excited in the mind of the - governess because letters for Miss Turner continued to arrive at - the school from Shrigley, and she gave the alarm. There was a great - trial, at which all the gentlemen in Cheshire accompanied Mr. - Turner when he appeared leading his daughter. The marriage was - pronounced null and void, and one of the Gibbon Wakefields was - imprisoned at Lancaster for five years, the others for two. It was - the utmost punishment that could be given for misdemeanour, and - nothing more could be proved. The Gibbon Wakefields had thought - that, rather than expose his daughter to three days in a witness - box, Mr. Turner would consent to a regular marriage, and they had - relied upon that. Miss Turner was afterwards married to Mr. Legh, - in the hope of uniting two fine properties, but as she had no son, - her daughter, Mrs. Lowther, is now the mistress of Shrigley." - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Lyme Hall, August 29, 1866._--I have been with Mrs. Legh to - Bramhall, the fine old house of the Davenports, near Stockport, - with the haunted room of Lady Dorothy Davenport and no end of - relics. Out of the billiard-room opens the parish church, in the - same style as the house, with prayer-books chained to the seats. We - returned by Marple, the wonderfully curious old house of Bradshaw - the regicide." - - - "_Sept. 1._--To-day we had a charming drive over the hills, the - green glens of pasture-land, the steeps, and the tossing burns - recalling those of Westmoreland. I went with Mrs. Legh into one of - the cottages and admired the blue wash of the room, 'Oh, _you_ like - it, do ye?' said the mistress of the house; 'I don't--so that's - difference of opinions.' The whole ceiling was hung with different - kinds of herbs, 'for we're our own doctors, ye see, and it saves - the physic bills.' - - "The four children--Sybil and Mob (Mabel), Tom and Gilbert Legh, - are delightful, and Sybil quite lovely. It is a pleasure to hear - the little feet come scampering down the oak staircase, as the four - rush down to the library to ask for a story at seven o'clock--'A - nice horrible story, all about robbers and murders: now do tell us - a really horrible one.'" - - - "_Thornycroft Hall, Cheshire, Sept._ 3.--The family here are much - depressed by the reappearance of the cattle plague. In the last - attack sixty-eight cows died, and so rapidly that men had to be up - all night burying them by lantern-light in one great grave in the - park.... How curious the remains of French expressions are as used - by the cottagers here. They speak of _carafes_ of water, and say - they should not oss (oser) to do a thing. The other day one of the - Birtles tenants was being examined as a witness at the Manchester - assizes. 'You told me so and so, didn't you?' said the lawyer. And - the man replied, 'I tell't ye nowt o' the kind, ye powther-headed - monkey; ask the coompany now if I did.'" - -From Thornycroft I went to stay (only three miles off) at Birtles, the -charming, comfortable home of the Hibberts--very old friends of all our -family. Mrs. Hibbert, _née_ Caroline Cholmondeley, was very intimate -with my aunt Mrs. Stanley, and a most interesting and agreeable person; -and I always found a visit to Birtles a most admirable discipline, as my -great ignorance was so much discovered and commented upon, that it was -always a stimulus to further exertion. It was on this occasion that Mrs. -Hibbert told me a very remarkable story. It had been told her by Mrs. -Gaskell the authoress, who said that she felt so greatly the uncertainty -of life, that she wished a story which might possibly be of consequence, -and which had been intrusted to her, to remain with some one who was -certain to record it accurately. Three weeks afterwards, sitting by the -fire with her daughter, Mrs. Gaskell died suddenly in her arm-chair. -Mrs. Hibbert, in her turn, wished to share her trust with some one, and -she selected me. - - In my childhood I remember well the Misses T., who were great - friends of my aunt Mrs. Stanley, and very clever agreeable old - ladies. "Many years before," as Mrs. Gaskell described to Mrs. - Hibbert, "they had had the care of a young cousin, a girl whose - beauty and cleverness were a great delight to them. But when she - was very young, indeed in the first year of her 'coming out,' she - engaged herself to marry a Major Alcock. In a worldly point of view - the marriage was all that could be desired. Major Alcock was a man - of fortune with a fine place in Leicestershire: he was a good man, - of high character, and likely to make an excellent husband. Still - it was a disappointment--an almost unspoken disappointment--to her - friends that the young lady should marry so soon--'she was so - young,' they thought; she had had so few opportunities of judging - persons; they had looked forward to having her so much longer with - them,' &c. - - "When Mrs. Alcock went to her new home in Leicestershire, it was a - great comfort to the Misses T. and others who cared for her that - some old friends of the family would be her nearest neighbours, and - could keep them cognisant of how she was going on. For some time - the letters of these friends described Mrs. Alcock as radiantly, - perfectly happy. Mrs. Alcock's own letters also gave glowing - descriptions of her home, of the kindness of her husband, of her - own perfect felicity. But after a time a change came over the - letters on both sides. The neighbours described Mrs. Alcock as sad - and pale, and constantly silent and preoccupied, and in the letters - of Mrs. Alcock herself there was a reserve and want of all her - former cheerfulness, which aroused great uneasiness. - - "The Misses T. went to see Mrs. Alcock, and found her terribly, - awfully changed--haggard, worn, preoccupied, with an expression of - fixed melancholy in her eyes. Both to them and to the doctors who - were called in to her she said that the cause of her suffering was - that, waking or sleeping, she seemed to see before her a face, the - face of a man whom she exactly described, and that she was sure - that some dreadful misfortune was about to befall her from the - owner of that face. Waking, she seemed to see it, or, if she fell - asleep, she dreamt of it. The doctors said that it was a case of - what is known as phantasmagoria; that the fact was that in her - unmarried state Mrs. Alcock had not only had every indulgence and - consideration, but that even the ordinary rubs of practical life - had been warded off from her; and that having been suddenly - transplanted into being the head of a large establishment in - Leicestershire, with quantities of visitors coming and going - throughout the hunting season, had been too much for a very - peculiar and nervous temperament, and that over-fatigue and - unwonted excitement had settled into this peculiar form of - delusion. She must have perfect rest, they said, and her mind would - soon recover its usual tone. - - "This was acted upon. The house in Leicestershire was shut up, and - Major and Mrs. Alcock went abroad for the summer. The remedy - completely answered. Mrs. Alcock forgot all about the face, slept - well, enjoyed herself extremely and became perfectly healthy in - body and mind. So well was she, that it was thought a pity to run - the risk of bringing her back to Leicestershire just before the - hunting season, the busiest time there, and it was decided to - establish her cure by taking her to pass the winter at Rome. - - "One of the oldest established hotels in Rome is the Hôtel - d'Angleterre in the Bocca di Leone. It was to it that travellers - generally went first when they arrived at Rome in the old - _vetturino_ days; and there, by the fountain near the hotel door - which plays into a sarcophagus under the shadow of two old - pepper-trees, idle contadini used to collect in old days to see the - foreigners arrive. So I remember it in the happy old days, and so - it was on the evening on which the heavily laden carriage of the - Alcock family rolled into the Bocca di Leone and stopped at the - door of the Hôtel d'Angleterre. Major Alcock got out, and Mrs. - Alcock got out, but, as she was descending the steps of the - carriage, she happened to glance round at the group under the - pepper-trees, and she uttered a piercing shriek, fell down upon the - ground, and was carried unconscious into the hotel. - - "When Mrs. Alcock came to herself, she affirmed that amongst the - group near the door of the hotel she had recognised the owner of - the face which had so long tormented her, and she was certain that - some dreadful misfortune was about to overwhelm her. Doctors, - summoned in haste, when informed of her previous condition, - declared that the same results were owing to the same causes. Major - Alcock, who disliked bad hotels, had insisted on posting straight - through to Rome from Perugia; there had been difficulties about - horses, altercations with the post-boys--in fact, 'the delusion of - Mrs. Alcock was owing, as before, to over-fatigue and excitement: - she must have perfect rest, and she would soon recover.' - - "So it proved. Quiet and rest soon restored Mrs. Alcock, and she - was soon able to enjoy going about quietly and entering into the - interests of Rome. It was decided that she should be saved all - possible fatigue, even the slight one of Roman housekeeping: so the - family remained at the Hôtel d'Angleterre. Towards January, - however, Mrs. Alcock was so well that they sent out some of the - numerous letters of introduction which they had brought with them, - and, in answer to these, many of the Romans came to call. One day a - Roman Marchese was shown upstairs to the Alcocks' room, and another - gentleman went up with him. The Marchese thought, 'Another visitor - come to call at the same time as myself,' the waiter, having only - one name given him, thought, 'The Marchese and his brother, or the - Marchese and a friend,' and they were shown in together. As they - entered the room, Mrs. Alcock was sitting on the other side of the - fire; she jumped up, looked suddenly behind the Marchese at his - companion, again uttered a fearful scream, and again fell down - insensible. Both gentlemen backed out of the room, and the Marchese - said in a well-bred way that as the Signora was suddenly taken ill, - he should hope for another opportunity of seeing her. The other - gentleman went out at the same time. - - "Again medical assistance was summoned, and again the same cause - was ascribed to Mrs. Alcock's illness: this time she was said to be - over-fatigued by sight-seeing. Again quiet and rest seemed to - restore her. - - "It was the spring of 1848--the year of the Louis Philippe - revolution. Major Alcock had a younger sister to whom he was sole - guardian, and who was at school in Paris, and he told his wife - that, in the troubled state of political affairs, he could not - reconcile it to his conscience to leave her there unprotected; he - must go and take her away. Mrs. Alcock begged that, if he went, she - might go with him, but naturally he said that was impossible--there - might be bloodshed going on--there might be barricades to get - over--there might be endless difficulties in getting out of Paris; - at any rate, there would be a hurried and exciting journey, which - would be sure to bring back her malady: no, she had friends at - Rome,--she must stay quietly there at the hotel till he came back. - Mrs. Alcock, with the greatest excitement, entreated, implored her - husband upon her knees that she might go with him; but Major Alcock - thought this very excitement was the more reason for leaving her - behind, and he went without her. - - "As all know, the Louis Philippe revolution was a very slight - affair. The English had no difficulty in getting out of Paris, and - in a fortnight Major Alcock was back in Rome, bringing his sister - with him. When he arrived, Mrs. Alcock was gone. She was never, - never heard of again. There was no trace of her whatever. All that - ever was known of Mrs. Alcock was that, on the day of her - disappearance, some people who knew her were walking in front of S. - John Lateran, and saw a carriage driving very rapidly towards the - Porta S. Giovanni Laterano, and in it sat Mrs. Alcock crying and - wringing her hands as if her heart would break, and by her side - there sat a strange man, with the face she had so often described." - -I have my own theories as to the explanation of this strange story of -Mrs. Alcock, but as they are evolved entirely from my own imagination, I -will not mention them here. - -[Illustration: BODRYDDAN.] - -From Cheshire I went to North Wales to pay a visit to our cousinhood at -Bodryddan, which had been the home of my grandmother's only brother, the -Dean of St. Asaph. The place has been spoilt since, but was very -charming in those days. Under an old clock-tower one entered upon a -handsome drive with an avenue of fine elms, on the right of which a -lawn, with magnificent firs, oaks, and cedars, swept away to the hills. -At the end rose the stately old red brick house, half covered with -magnolias, myrtles, and buddlea, with blazing beds of scarlet and yellow -flowers lighting up its base. Through an oak hall hung with armour a -fine staircase led to the library--an immense room with two deep -recesses, entirely furnished with black oak from Copenhagen, and -adorned with valuable enamels collected at Lisbon. The place had -belonged to the Conwys, and that family ended in three sisters, Lady -Stapleton, Mrs. Cotton, and Mrs. Yonge: they had equal shares. Mrs. -Cotton bought up Lady Stapleton's share, and left it with her own to the -two daughters of her sister Mrs. Yonge, of whom the elder married my -great-uncle, Dean Shipley, and was the mother of William and Charles -Shipley and of the three female first cousins (Penelope, Mrs. Pelham -Warren; Emily, Mrs. Heber; and Anna Maria, Mrs. Dashwood) who played so -large a part in the early history of my father and his brothers, and who -are frequently mentioned in the first volume of these memoirs. - -When Dean Shipley married, he removed to his wife's house of Bodryddan. -Miss Yonge lived with them, and after her sister's death the Dean was -most anxious to marry her, trying to obtain an Act of Parliament for the -purpose. For some years their aunt, Lady Stapleton, also continued to -hold a life-interest in the property. Of this lady there is a curious -portrait at Bodryddan. She is represented with her two children and a -little Moor, for whom her own little boy had conceived the most -passionate attachment, and from whom he could never bear to be -separated. One night, after this little Moor was grown up, Lady -Stapleton, returning very late from a ball, went to bed, leaving all her -diamonds lying upon the table. Being awakened by a noise in the room, -she saw the Moor come in with a large knife in his hand, and begin -gathering up her jewels. Never losing her presence of mind, she raised -herself up in bed, and, fixing her eyes upon him, exclaimed in a -thrilling tone of reproach, "Pompey, is that you?" This she did three -times, and the third time the Moor, covering his face with his hands, -rushed out of the room. Nothing was heard of him till many years -afterwards, when the chaplain of a Devonshire gaol wrote to Lady -Stapleton that one of his prisoners, under sentence of death for murder, -was most anxious to see her. She was unable to go, but heard afterwards -that it was Pompey, who said that on the night he entered her room he -had intended to kill her, but that when she spoke, such a sense of his -ingratitude overwhelmed him, that he was unable to do it. - -As an ecclesiastical dignitary, Dean Shipley would certainly be called -to account in our days. He was devoted to hunting and shooting, and used -to go up for weeks together to a little public-house in the hills above -Bodryddan, where he gave himself up entirely to the society of his -horses and dogs. He had led a very fast life before he took orders, and -he had a natural daughter by a Mrs. Hamilton, who became the second wife -of our grandfather; but after his ordination there was no further stain -upon his character. As a father he was exceedingly severe. He never -permitted his daughters to sit down in his presence, and he never -allowed two of them to be in the room with him at once, because he -could not endure the additional talking caused by their speaking to one -another. His daughter Anna Maria had become engaged to Captain Dashwood, -a very handsome young officer, but before the time came at which he was -to claim her hand, he was completely paralysed, crippled, and almost -imbecile. Then she flung herself upon her knees, imploring her father -with tears not to insist upon her marriage with him; but the Dean -sternly refused to relent, saying she had given her word, and must keep -to it. - -She nursed Captain Dashwood indefatigably till he died, and then she -came back to Bodryddan, and lived there with her aunt Mrs. Yonge, -finding it dreadfully dull, for she was a brilliant talker and adored -society. At last she went abroad with her aunt Louisa Shipley, and at -Corfu she met Sir Thomas Maitland, who gave her magnificent diamonds, -and asked her to marry him. But she insisted on coming home to ask her -father's consent, at which the Dean was quite furious. "Why could you -not marry him at once?"--and indeed, before she could get back to her -lover, he died! - -After the death of Mrs. Yonge, Mrs. Dashwood lived at Cheltenham, a rich -and clever widow, and had many proposals. To the disgust of her family, -she insisted upon accepting Colonel Jones, who had been a neighbour at -Bodryddan, and was celebrated for his fearfully violent temper. The day -before the wedding it was nearly all off, because, when he came to look -at her luggage, he insisted on her having only one box, and stamped all -her things down into it, spoiling all her new dresses. He made her go -with him for a wedding tour all over Scotland in a pony-carriage, -without a maid, and she hated it; but in a year he died. - -Then she insisted on marrying the Rev. G. Chetwode, who had had one wife -before and had two afterwards--an old beau, who used to comb his hair -with a leaden comb to efface the grey. On her death he inherited all she -had--diamonds, £2000 a year, all the fine pictures left her by Mr. -Jones, and all those Landor had collected for her in Italy. - -But to return to Dean Shipley. To Mrs. Rowley, who was the mistress of -Bodryddan when I was there, the Dean had been the kindest of -grandfathers, and she had no recollection of him which was not -associated with the most unlimited indulgence. The Dean was much -interested in the management of his estate, but he insisted that every -detail should pass through his own hands. For instance, while he was -absent in London, a number of curious images and carvings in alabaster -were discovered under the pavement at Bodryddan: news was immediately -sent to him, but he desired that everything should be covered up, and -remain till he came home. On his return, he put off the examination from -time to time, till, on his death, the place was forgotten, and now no -one is able to discover it. - -Mrs. Rowley was the beautiful Charlotte, only daughter of Colonel -William Shipley, and had led an adventurous life, distinguishing herself -by her bravery and heroism during the plague while she was in the East, -and on various other occasions. By her marriage with Colonel Rowley, -second son of the first Lord Langford, she had three children,--Shipley -Conwy, the present owner of Bodryddan; Gwynydd, who has married twice; -and Efah, who, after her mother's death, made a happy marriage with -Captain Somerset. - -In her early married life, Mrs. Rowley had lived much in Berkeley Square -with her mother-in-law, old Lady Langford, who was the original of Lady -Kew in "The Newcomes," and many pitched battles they had, in which the -daughter-in-law generally came off victorious. Lady Langford had been -very beautiful, clever, and had had _une vie très orageuse_. She had -much excuse, however. She had only once seen her cousin, Lord Langford, -when he came to visit her grandmother, and the next day the old lady -told her she was to marry him. "Very well, grandmama, but when?"--"I -never in my life heard such an impertinent question," said the -grandmother; "what business is it of yours _when_ you are to marry him? -You will marry him when I tell you. However, whenever you hear me order -six horses to the carriage, you may know that you are going to be -married." And so it was. - -At the time I was at Bodryddan, the most devoted and affectionate -deference was shown by Mrs. Rowley to every word, movement, or wish of -her only brother, Colonel Shipley Conwy. He looked still young, but was -quite helpless from paralysis. Mrs. Rowley sat by him and fed him like a -child. It was one mouthful for her brother, the next for herself. When -dinner was over, a servant came in and wrung his arms and legs, as you -would pull bell-ropes, to prevent the joints from stiffening (a process -repeated several times in the evening), and then carried him out. But -with all this, Colonel Shipley Conwy--always patient--was very bright -and pleasant, and Mrs. Rowley, who said that she owed everything to my -father and his interest in her education, was most cordial in welcoming -me. I never saw either of these cousins again. They spent the next two -winters at the Cape, and both died a few years afterwards. - -A little later, I went to stay at Dalton Hall in Lancashire, to visit -Mrs. Hornby, a cousin of my Aunt Penrhyn, and a very sweet and charming -old lady, who never failed to be loved by all who came within her -influence. She told me many old family stories, amongst others how-- - - "The late Lord Derby (the 13th Earl) was very fond of natural - history even as a boy. One night he dreamt most vividly of a rare - nest in the ivy on the wall, and that he was most anxious to get - it, but it was impossible. In the morning, the nest was on his - dressing-table, and it could only have got there by his opening the - window in his sleep and climbing the wall to it in that state. - - "Another instance of his sleep-walking relates that he had a - passion, as a little boy, for sliding down the banisters, but it - was strictly forbidden. One night his tutor had been sitting up - late reading in the hall, when he saw one of the bedroom doors - open, and a little boy come out in his night-shirt and slide down - the banisters. This he did two or three times, and when the tutor - made some little noise, he ran upstairs and disappeared into his - bedroom. The tutor followed, but the little boy was fast asleep in - bed." - -Apropos of sleep-walking, Mr. Bagot (husband of Mrs. Hornby's daughter -Lucy) told me a story he had just seen in the _Times_:-- - - "A large pat of butter was lately on the breakfast table of a - family. When it was divided, a gold watch and chain were found in - the midst of it. The maid who was waiting gave a shriek, and first - rushed off to her room, then, coming back, declared it was hers. - The family were much surprised, but what she said turned out to be - true. She had dreamt that she was going to be robbed of her watch - and chain, and that the only way of hiding them would be to wrap - them up in a pat of butter, and she had done it in her sleep." - -A sister-in-law of Mrs. Hornby--a Mrs. Bayley--was staying at Dalton -when I was there. She told me--first hand--a story of which I have heard -many distorted versions. I give it in her words:-- - - "My sister, Mrs. Hamilton (_née_ Armstrong), was one night going to - bed, when she saw a man's foot project from under the bed. She - knelt down then and there by the bedside and prayed for the wicked - people who were going about--for the _known_ wicked person - especially--that they might be converted. When she concluded, the - man came from under the bed and said, 'I have heard your prayer, - ma'am, and with all my heart I say Amen to it;' and he did her no - harm and went away. She heard from him years afterwards, and he was - a changed man from that day." - -Apropos of the growth of a story by exaggeration, Mrs. Bayley said:-- - - "The first person said, 'Poor Mrs. Richards was so ill that what - she threw up was almost like a black crow.' The second said, 'Poor - Mrs. Richards was so ill: it was the most dreadful thing, she - actually threw up a black crow.' The third said, 'Poor Mrs. - Richards has the most dreadful malady: it is almost too terrible to - speak of, but she has already thrown up ... three black crows.'" - -Mrs. Bayley was a very "religious" person, but she never went to church; -she thought it wrong. She called herself an "unattached Christian," and -said that people only ought to go to church for praise, but to do their -confessions at home. When I left Dalton, she presented me with a little -book, which she begged me not to read till I was quite away. It was -called "Do you belong to the Hellfire Club?" It was not an allegorical -little book, but really and seriously asked the question, saying that, -though not generally known, such a club really existed, where the most -frightful mysteries were enacted, and that it was just within the -bounds of possibility that I might secretly belong to it, and if so, -&c., &c. A similar little book was once thrust into my hand by a lady at -the top of St. James's Street. - -On the 29th of October 1866 we left England for Cannes, stopping on the -way at Villefranche, that we might visit Ars, for the sake of its -venerable Curé. - - _To_ MY SISTER. - - "_Nov. 1866._--It was a pretty and peculiar drive to Ars: first - wooded lanes, then high open country, from whence you descend - abruptly upon the village, which, with its picturesque old church, - and the handsome wooden one behind it, quite fills the little - hollow in the hills. The village itself is almost made up of hotels - for the pilgrims, but is picturesque at this season, with masses of - golden vine falling over all the high walls. We left the carriage - at the foot of the church steps, and ascended through a little - square crowded with beggars, as in the time of the Curé.[330] The - old church is exceedingly interesting. In the middle of the floor - is the grave of the Curé, once surrounded by a balustrade hung with - immortelles, which are now in the room where he died. At the sides - are all the little chapels he built at the different crises of his - life, that of S. Philomene being quite filled with crutches, left - by lame persons who have gone away cured. Beyond the old church - opens out the handsome but less interesting modern building - erected by the Empress and the bishops, with a grand baldacchino on - red granite pillars, and on the altar a beautiful bas-relief of the - Curé carried to heaven by angels. In the old church a missionary - was giving the pilgrims (who kept flocking in the whole time) a - very beautiful and simple exposition on the life of Christ as a - loving Saviour, quite carrying on the teaching of the Curé. - - "At half-past twelve a Sister of Charity came to show the Curé's - room. It is railed off, because the pilgrims would have carried - everything away, as they have almost undermined the thick walls in - their eagerness to possess themselves of the bits of stone and - plaster; but you see the narrow bed, the poor broken floor, his - chair, his table, his pewter spoon and earthenware pot,--the - picture which was defiled by the Demon,--the door at which 'the - Grappin' knocked,--the narrow staircase from which he shouted - 'Mangeur de truffes,'--the still poorer room downstairs where the - beloved Curé lay when all his people passed by to see him in his - last sleep,--the little court shaded by ancient elder-trees in - which he gave his incessant charities,--and close by the little - house of his servant Catherine. She herself is the sweetest old - woman, seeming to live, in her primitive life, upon the gleanings - and the teaching of the past. She sate on a low stool at Mother's - feet, and talked in the most touching way of her dear Curé. When - Mother said something about the crowds that came to him, she said, - 'I have always heard that when the dear Saviour was on earth, He - was so sweet and loving, that people liked to be near Him, and I - suppose that now when men are sweet and loving, and so a little - like the dear Saviour, people like to be near them too.' In a small - chapel of the school he founded they showed some blood of the Curé - in a bottle--'_encore coulant_.' Many other people we saw who - talked of him--'Comme il était gai, toujours gai,' &c. The whole - place seemed cut out of the world, in an atmosphere of peace and - prayer, like a little heaven: no wonder Roman Catholics like to go - into 'Retreat' there." - -We stayed afterwards at Arles, and made the excursion to S. Remy, one of -the most exquisitely beautiful places I have ever seen, where Roman -remains, grand in form and of the most splendid orange colouring, rise -close to the delicate Alpines. - -At Cannes we were most fortunate in finding a house exactly suited to -our needs--a primitive bastide, approached by a long pergola of vines, -on the way to the Croix des Gardes, quite high up in woods of myrtle and -pine upon the mountain-side.[331] It was far out of the town and -dreadfully desolate at night, but in the daytime there were exquisite -views through the woods of the sea and mountains, and a charming -terraced garden of oranges and cassia--the vegetation quite tropical. -Close to the turn into our pergola was a little shrine of S. François, -which gave a name to our cottage, and which the peasants, passing to -their work in the forests, daily presented with fresh flowers. -Delightful walks led beyond us into the hilly pine woods with a soil of -glistening mica, and, if one penetrated far enough, one came out upon -the grand but well-concealed precipices of rock known as the Rochers de -Bilheres. Just below us lived Lord Mount-Edgecumbe, the "Valletort" of -my Harrow days, with his sweet invalid wife, and their three little -girls, with the little Valletort of this time, were a perpetual pleasure -to my mother in her morning walk to the Croix des Gardes. Old Madame -Bœuf, our landlady, used to come up every morning in her large -flapping Provençal hat to work with her women amongst the cassia: the -sunshine seemed almost ceaseless, and all winter we used to sit with -open windows and hear our maid Marguerite carolling her strange patois -ballads at her work. - -[Illustration: S. REMY.[332]] - -[Illustration: FROM MAISON S. FRANÇOIS, CANNES.[333]] - -On the other side of Cannes, at the Hôtel de Provence, we had a large -group of friends, Lady Verulam and her sons; Lord and Lady Suffolk and -their two daughters; and the Dowager Lady Morley with her son and -daughter. With the latter I became very intimate, and joined them in -many long and delightful excursions to remote villages and to the -unspeakably grand scenery above the Var. Lady Suffolk too became a dear -and much honoured friend. - -A still greater pleasure was the neighbourhood, in a small house by the -torrent at the foot of our hill, of the dear old Lady Grey of our Nice -days, and her niece Miss G. Des Vœux. I generally dined with them -once or twice a week, and constantly accompanied them on delightful -drawing excursions, taking our luncheon with us. In the spring I went -away with them for several days together to the wild mountains of S. -Vallier and S. Cesaire. Lady Grey painted beautifully, though she only -began to be an artist when she was quite an old woman. She always went -out sketching with thirty-nine articles, which one servant called over -at the door, another answering "Here" for each, to secure that nothing -should be left behind. - -Beneath us, at the Hôtel Bellevue, were Lady Jocelyn and her children, -with Lord and Lady Vernon and Mr. and Lady Louisa Wells, whom we saw -frequently; also three admirable Scotch sisters, Mrs. Douglas, Miss -Kennedy, and Mrs. Tootal. Hither also came for two months our dear -friend Miss Wright ("Aunt Sophy"), and she was a constant pleasure, -dropping in daily at tea-time, and always the most sympathising of human -beings both in joy and sorrow. - -[Illustration: BOCCA WOOD, CANNES.] - -Altogether, none of our winters was so rich in pleasant society as this -one at Cannes, and we had nothing to trouble us till the spring, when -Lea was taken very seriously ill from the bite either of scorpion or -tarantula, and, while she was at the worst and unable to move, my -mother became alarmingly ill too with a fever. I was up with them -through every night at this time; and it was an odd life in the little -desolate bastide, as it was long impossible to procure help. At length -we got a Sœur de Charité--a pretty creature in a most picturesque -nun's dress, but efficient for very little except the manufacture and -consumption of convent soup, made with milk, tapioca, and pepper. - -[Illustration: MAISON S. FRANÇOIS, CANNES.] - -Still, for the most part, my mother had not been so well or so -perfectly happy for years as in our little hermitage amid the juniper -and rosemary. It was just what she most enjoyed, the walks all within -her compass--perfect country, invariably dry and healthy, perpetual -warmth in which to sit out, and endless subjects for her sketch-book. -Lea, rejoiced to be rid for some months of her tiresome husband, found -plenty of occupation in her kitchen and in attending to the poultry -which she bought and reared; while I was engrossed with my drawings, of -which I sold enough to pay our rent very satisfactorily, and with my -"Lives of the Popes," a work on which I spent an immense amount of time, -but which is still unfinished in MS., and likely to remain so. My mother -greatly appreciated the church at Cannes, and we liked the clergyman, -Mr. Rolfe, and his wife. His sermons were capital. I do not often attend -to sermons, but I remember an excellent one on Zacharias praying for -vengeance, and Stephen for mercy on his murderers, as respectively -illustrating the principles of the Old and New Testament--Justice and -Mercy. - -[Illustration: Maria Hare. 1862.] - -I dined once or twice, to meet Mr. Panizzi[334] of the British Museum, -at the house of a quaint old Mr. Kerr, who died soon afterwards. It -was him of whom it used to be said that he had been "trying to make -himself disagreeable for sixty years and had not quite succeeded." When -he was eighty he told me that there were three things he had never had: -he had never had a watch, he had never had a key, and he had never had -an account. - -I frequently saw the famous old Lord Brougham, who bore no trace then of -his "flashes of oratory," of his "thunder and lightning speeches," but -was the most disagreeable, selfish, cantankerous, violent old man who -ever lived. He used to swear by the hour together at his sister-in-law, -Mrs. William Brougham,[335] who lived with him, and bore his -ill-treatment with consummate patience. He would curse her in the most -horrible language before all her guests, and this not for anything she -had done, but merely to vent his spite and ill-humour. Though a proper -carriage was always provided for him, he would insist upon driving about -Cannes daily in the most disreputable old fly he could procure, with the -hope that people would say he was neglected by his family. Yet he -preferred the William Broughams to his other relations, and entirely -concealing that he had other brothers, procured the reversion of his -title to his youngest brother, William, much to the annoyance of the -Queen when she found it out. Lord Brougham was repulsive in appearance -and excessively dirty in his habits. He had always been so. Mr. Kerr -remembered seeing him at the Beefsteak Club, when the Prince Regent was -President, and there was the utmost license of manners. One day when he -came in, the Prince Regent roared out, "How dare you come in here, -Brougham, with those dirty hands?"--and he insisted on the waiters -bringing soap and water and having his hands washed before all the -company. In early life, if anything aggravated him at dinner, he would -throw his napkin in the face of his guests, and he did things quite as -insulting to the close of his life at Cannes, where he had a peculiar -prestige, as having, through his "Villa Louise Eleanore,"[336] first -brought the place into fashion, which led to the extension of a humble -fishing village into miles upon miles of villas and hotels. - -[Illustration: CAGNES.[337]] - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT (after she had gone on to Rome). - - "_Maison S. François, Cannes, Feb. 2, 1867._--On Tuesday we made an - immense excursion of thirteen hours to the 'Seven villages of the - Var.' The party consisted of Lord Morley and Lady Katherine, Lord - Suffolk and Lady Victoria, Lord Henry Percy, Lord Mount-Edgecumbe, - and myself. We left by the 7.40 train and had carriages to meet us - at Cagnes. These took us as far as the grand Sinai-like granite - peaks of S. Janet, and thence we walked. The whole terrace is most - grand for seven miles above the tremendous purple gorge of the Var, - overhung here and there by splendid Aleppo pines or old gnarled - oaks; and as we reached just the finest point of all, where the - huge castle of Carrozza stands out on a great granite crag, the - mist curtain drew up and displayed range on range of snow - mountains, many of them close by--really a finer scene than any - single view I remembered in Switzerland. The whole of our party, - hitherto inclined to grumble, were almost petrified by the - intensity of the splendour. - - "M. Victor Cousin's sudden death at dinner has been a great shock - to the Cannes world. It was just at that time that our attention - was so sadly occupied by the illness and death of dear old Sir Adam - Hay. The Hays gave a picnic at Vallauris, to which I was invited, - and Sir Adam caught a cold there, which excited no attention at the - time, as he had never been ill in his life before. Four days - afterwards Addie Hay took Miss Hawker and me in their carriage to - Napoule, where we spent a pleasant day in drawing. When we came - back, his father was most alarmingly ill, and absent children had - been already telegraphed for. All that week I went constantly to - Villa Escarras, and shared with the family their alternations of - hope and fear, but at the end of a week dear Sir Adam died, and all - the family went away immediately, as he was to be buried at - Peebles." - -[Illustration: ANTIBES.[338]] - -During the latter part of our stay at Cannes, the society of Madame -Goldschmidt (Jenny Lind) was a great pleasure to my mother, and in her -great kindness she came often to sing to her. We went with the -Goldschmidts to Antibes one most glorious February day, when Madame G. -was quite glowing with delight in all the beauties around and gratitude -to their Giver. "Oh, how good we ought to be--_how_ good with all this -before our eyes! it is a country to die in." She spoke much of the -sweetness of the Southern character, which she believed to be partly due -to the climate and scenery. She talked of an old man, bowed with -rheumatism, who worked in her garden. That morning she had asked him, -"Comment ça va t'il? Comment va votre santé?"--"Oh, la volonté de Dieu!" -he had replied--"la volonté de Dieu!" In his pretty Provençal his very -murmur was a thanksgiving for what God sent. She spoke of the dislike -English had to foreigners, but that the only point in which she envied -the English was their noble women. In Sweden she said they might -_become_ as noble, but that hitherto the character of Swedish women had -been oppressed by the bondage in which they were kept by the laws--that -they had always been kept under guardians, and could have neither will -nor property of their own, unless they married, even when they were -eighty. She said that she was the first Swedish woman who had gained her -liberty, and that she had obtained it by applying direct to the king, -who emancipated her because of all she had done for Sweden. Now the law -was changed, and women were emancipated when they were five-and-twenty. - -Then Madame Goldschmidt talked of the _faithfulness_ of the Southern -vegetation. In England she said to the leaves, "Oh, you poor leaves! you -are so thin and miserable. However, it does not signify, for you have -only to last three or four months; but these beautiful thick foreign -leaves, with them it is quite different, for they have got to be -beautiful always." - -We drove up the road leading to the lighthouse, and then walked up the -steep rocky path carrying two baskets of luncheon, which we ate under -the shadow of a wall looking down upon the glorious view. Madame -Goldschmidt had been very anxious all the way about preserving a -cream-tart which she had brought. "Voilà le grand moment," she exclaimed -as it was uncovered. When some one spoke of her enthusiasm, she said, -"Oh, it is delightful to soar, but one is soon brought back again to the -cheese and bread and butter of life." When Lady Suffolk asked how she -first knew she had a voice, she said, "Oh, it did fly into me!" - -At first sight Madame Goldschmidt might be called "plain," though her -smile is most beautiful and quite illuminates her features; but how true -of her is an observation I met with in a book by the Abbé Monnin, "Le -sourire ne se raconte pas." "She has no face; it is all _countenance_," -might be said of her, as Miss Edgeworth said of Lady Wellington. - -[Illustration: LE PUY.[339]] - -[Illustration: ROYAT.[340]] - -It was already excessively hot before we left Cannes on the 29th of -April. After another day at the grand ruins of Montmajour near Arles, we -diverged from Lyons to Le Puy, a place too little known and most -extraordinary, with its grand and fantastic rocks of basalt crowned by -the most picturesque of buildings. Five days were happily spent in -drawing at Le Puy and Espailly, and in an excursion to the charming -neighbouring campagne of the old landlord and landlady of the hotel -where we were staying. Then my mother assented to my wish of taking a -carriage through the forests of Velay and Auvergne to the grand desolate -monastery of the Chaise Dieu, where many of the Popes lived during their -exile in France, and where Clement VI. lies aloft on a grand tomb in -the centre of the superb choir, which is so picturesquely hung with old -tapestries. Our rooms at the hotel here cost half a franc apiece. -Joining the railway again at Brioude, we went to the Baths of Royat, -then a very primitive and always a very lovely place, with its torrent -tumbling through the walnut woods, its gorge closed by a grand old -Templars' church, and its view over rich upland vineyards to the town -and cathedral of Clermont. On the way home we visited the great deserted -abbey of Souvigny near Moulins, and bought the beautiful broken -statuette which is one of the principal ornaments of Holmhurst. - - * * * * * - -In June I went to Oxford to stay with my friend Henry Hood, and was -charmed to make acquaintance with a young Oxford so different from the -young Oxford of my days, that it seemed altogether another race--so much -more cordial and amusing, though certainly very Bohemian. During this -visit I cemented an acquaintance with Claude Delaval Cobham, then -reading for the orders for which he soon felt himself unsuited. In some -respects, he is one of the cleverest men I have met, especially from his -unusual linguistic acquirements, combined with extreme correctness. I -have frequently received kindness from him since and valuable advice and -help in literary work, and though I have sometimes conceitedly rebelled -against his opinion at the time, I have never failed to find that he was -in the right. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Oxford, June 1, 1867._--We went this morning in two - pony-carriages to Cuddesden, where Claude Cobham now is, and spent - the afternoon in walking and sitting in the Bishop's shady and - weedy garden. - - "The other day, coming out of this garden, the Bishop heard two - navvies on the other side of the road talking. 'I zay, Bill, ain't - yon a Beeshop?' said one. 'Yees,' said Bill. 'Then oi'll have some - fun oot o' him.' So he crossed the road and said, 'I zay, zur, be - you a Beeshop?'--'Yes, at your service,' said the Bishop. 'Then can - you tell us which is the way to heaven?'--'Certainly,' said the - Bishop, not the least discomposed; 'turn to the right and go - straight on.'" - - - "_June 3._--I enjoy being at Oxford most intensely, and Hood is - kindness itself. A wet day cleared into a lovely evening for the - boat-race, which was a beautiful sight, the green of the - water-meadows in such rich fulness, and the crowd upon the barges - and walks so bright and gay." - - - "_6 Bury Street, June 12_.--The first persons I met in London were - Arthur and Augusta Stanley, who took me into their carriage, and - with them to the Park, whence we walked through Kensington Gardens, - and very pretty they looked. Arthur described his first sight of - the Queen on that spot, and Augusta was full of Princess Mary's - cleverness in being confined in the same house on the same day on - which the Queen was born. - - "Then I went to Lady Wenlock, a most charming visit to that sweet - old lady, now much feebler, but so animated and lively, and her - life one long thanksgiving that her paralysis has left all her - powers unimpaired. She told me many old stories. I also called on - Lady Lothian, who is greatly disturbed at Madame de Trafford's - power over my sister. She says she quite considers her 'possessed,' - and that she ought to be exorcised. To-day I dined with Lady Grey. - She told me that as Charlie Grey was crossing to America, his - fellow-passengers were frightfully sea-sick, especially a man - opposite. At last an American sitting by him said, 'I guess, - stranger, if that man goes on much longer, he'll bring up his - boots.'" - - - "_June 15._--I have been sitting long with Lady Eastlake. She spoke - of how the great grief of her widowhood had taught her to sift the - dross from letters of condolence. She says that she lives upon - hope; prayer is given her in the meanwhile as a sustenance, not a - cure, for if it were a cure, one might be tempted to leave off - praying: still 'one could not live without it; it is like port wine - to a sick man.' - - "She says she finds a great support in the letters of Sir Charles - to his mother--his most precious gift to her. She said touchingly - how she knew that even to her he had a slight reserve, but that to - his mother he poured out his whole soul. In those letters she had - learnt how, when he was absent, his mother hungered after him, and - perhaps, in all those blessed years when she had him, his mother - was hungering after him. In giving him up, she felt she gave him up - to her: he was with her now, and from those letters she knew what - their communion must be. 'I know he is with her now, for "I have - seen my mother, I have seen my mother," he twice rapturously - exclaimed when he was dying.' How touching and how consoling are - those visions on this side of the portal. Old Mr. Harford, when he - was dying, continually asked his wife if she did not hear the - music. 'Oh, it is so wonderful,' he said, 'bands upon bands.' She - did not understand it then but she knows now. - - "'It was beautifully ordered,' said Lady Eastlake, 'that my - "History of Our Lord" was finished first: I could not have done it - now. And through it I learnt to know his library. My darling was - like a boy jumping up and down to find the references I wanted, - and, if possible, through the book I learnt to know him better.' - - "She spoke of his wonderful diligence. When he was a boy he wrote - to his mother, 'London will be illuminated to-morrow, I shall draw - all night.'" - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: IN THE DEAN'S GARDEN, CANTERBURY.[341]] - -In July I spent a few days with the Alfords at the Deanery of -Canterbury, which was always most enjoyable, the Dean so brimming with -liveliness and information of every kind. In the delightful garden grows -the old historic mulberry-tree,[342] about which it used to be said -that the Deans of Canterbury sit under the mulberry till they turn -purple, because those Deans were so frequently elevated to the episcopal -bench, and bishops formerly, though it is rare now, always wore purple -coats. I dined out with the Dean several times. I remember at one of the -parties a son of Canon Blakesley saying to me--what I have often thought -of since--"I find much the best way of getting on in society is never -to be able to understand why anybody is to be disapproved of." Both the -Dean's daughters were married now, and he cordially welcomed my -companionship, always treating me as an intimate friend or relation. No -one could be more sympathetic, for he had always the rare power of -condemning the fault, but not the action of it.[343] I insert a few -snatches from his table-talk, though they give but a faint idea of the -man. - - "We have been studying Butler's Analogy ever since we came back - from Rome, for we've had eight different butlers in the time. The - last butler said to me, 'It's not you who govern the Deanery, and - it's not Mrs. Alford, but it is the upper housemaid.'" - - "Archbishop Harcourt was very fond of hunting, _so_ fond that he - was very near refusing the archbishopric because he thought if he - accepted he should have to give it up. He consulted a friend, who - said that he must take counsel with others. 'Of course I should - never join the meet,' said the Archbishop, 'but you know I might - fall in with the hounds by accident.' After some time the friend - came back and said that on the whole the party considered that the - Archbishop might hunt, provided he did not shout." - - "Archbishop Manners Sutton had a wonderfully ready wit. One day a - blustering vulgar man came up to him and said, 'I believe, - Archbishop, that I am a relation of yours: my name is Sutton.' The - Archbishop quietly replied, 'Yes, but you want the Manners.'" - - "When some one was abusing our font the other day, I could not help - saying that, for a font, I thought renaissance peculiarly - appropriate." - - "I met Lady Mounteagle the other day: you know she was the sister-- - - 'Of the woman tawny and tough[344] - Who married the Master rude and rough - Who lived in the house that Hope built.' - - You know Hope gothicised the Master's Lodge at Trinity. At the - Whewells' 'perpendiculars,' as their large parties were called, no - one was allowed to sit down: if any one ventured to do so, a - servant came and requested him to move on." - - "When Alice was a little girl, I was explaining the Apostles' Creed - to her. When we came to the point of our Saviour descending into - hell she said, 'Oh, that is where the devil is, isn't - it?'--'Yes.'--'Then why didn't the devil run at him and tear him - all to pieces?'" - -[Illustration: Arthur Penrhyn Stanley] - -In August we spent some time at the Deanery of Westminster, where Arthur -and Augusta Stanley were always hospitality itself, and, with more than -the usual kindness of hosts, always urged, and almost insisted, on -our inviting our own friends to dinner and luncheon, making us, in fact, -use their house and fortune as our own. - - _From my_ JOURNAL. - - "_July 28, 1867._--In the evening, from the gallery of the Deanery - which overhangs the abbey, Mother, Mrs. Hall, and I looked down - upon the last service. Luther's hymn was sung and the Hallelujah - chorus, and trumpets played: it was very grand indeed. The Bishop - of Chester and the Wordsworths dined. Yesterday Arthur showed - thirty working-men over the Abbey. He pointed out where Peel was - buried. One of them received it very gravely in silence, and then, - after several minutes, said, 'Well, it is very extraordinary. I've - lived all my life in the next county, and I never knew that before: - I always thought he was buried at Drayton. Now that's what I call - _information_.'" - - - "_August 3._--It has a weird effect at night to look down upon the - Abbey, and see the solitary watchman walking along the desolate - aisles and the long trail of light from the lantern he carries - flickering on each monument and death's-head in turn. Hugo Percy, - who was here the other evening, asked him about his nights in the - Abbey. 'The ghosts have been very cross lately,' he said. - 'Palmerston was the last who came, but Mr. Cobden has not come - yet.' - - [Illustration: COURTYARD, DEANERY, WESTMINSTER.] - - "We have been to Buckingham Palace to see the rooms which were - arranged for the Sultan, which are dull and handsome. The chief - fact I derived from the housekeeper was that the Sultan never 'goes - to bed' and never lies down--in fact, he cannot, for a third of the - imperial bed at either end is taken up by a huge bolster, in the - middle of which he _sits_ all night, and reclines either way in - turn. There was a picture of the late Sultan in the room, and of - Frederick, Prince of Wales, sent from Windsor for the occasion. One - room was entirely hung with portraits of French kings and their - families." - -From London I went to visit Bishop Jeune,[345] who was most wonderfully -kind to me, really giving up his whole time to me whilst I was with him, -and pouring forth such stores of information as I had not received since -the days of Dr. Hawtrey; and it was a great pleasure to feel, to be -quite sure--which one so seldom is--that he liked my visit as much as I -liked being with him. - - _From my_ JOURNAL. - - "_August 10, 1867._--On the 8th I went to Peterborough, where I - have had a most agreeable visit at the Palace. When I arrived at - half-past seven, the family were all gone to dine with Dr. James, - an old Canon in the Close, whither I followed them. He was a - charming old-fashioned gentleman, most delightful to see. - - "In the morning the Bishop, wearing his surplice and hood, read - prayers at a desk in the crypted hall of the Palace. Afterwards we - walked in the garden. I spoke of there being no monument in the - Cathedral to Catherine of Arragon. 'It is owing to that very - circumstance,' said the Bishop, 'that you are here to-day. If - Catherine of Arragon had had a tomb, I should never have been - Bishop of Peterborough. When people reproached Henry VIII. with - having erected no monument to his first wife, he said, "The Abbey - of Peterborough shall be a cathedral to her monument," and he - instituted the bishopric; the last abbot was the first bishop.' As - we passed the lavatory of the old convent, the Bishop said that a - touching description was still extant of its dedication and of the - number of cardinals, bishops, and priests who were present. 'How - few of them,' he said, 'would have believed that not only their - buildings, which they believed would last for ever, could become an - indefinite ruin, but that their Church, whose foundations they - believed to be even more eternally rooted in the soil, should be - cast out to make way for another Church, which is already tottering - on its base and divided against itself.' He said he 'firmly - believed that the ends both of the Church and monarchy were close - at hand, that the power of government was even now in the hands of - a few individuals, who were in their turn in the hands of a few - Irish priests.' - - "While passing through the garden in returning to the Palace, the - Bishop showed me a white fig-tree growing out of the old wall of - the refectory and abundantly bearing fruit. 'This,' he said, 'I - believe to be the white fig-tree which is nearest to the Pole.' - Passing a fine mulberry-tree he said, 'We owe that to James I., as - he was so excessively anxious to promote the manufacture of silk, - that he recommended to every one the cultivation of the - mulberry-tree, but especially to the clergy, and those of the - clergy planted it who wished to stand well with him. Therefore it - is to be found in the neighbourhood of many of our cathedrals.' - -[Illustration: PALACE GARDEN, PETERBOROUGH.] - - "Afterwards the Bishop showed the old chronicle of the Abbey, which - he had had splendidly restored at Oxford. He read me some Latin - verses which had evidently been inserted by one of the monks - descriptive of his amours. 'Yet,' said the Bishop, 'these sins of - the monk were probably only sins of the imagination, quite as vivid - as real ones. You know,' he added, 'there are far more acted than - enacted sins, and the former are really far the more corrupting of - the two.' - - "In the afternoon we drove to Croyland. The Bishop talked the whole - way. I spoke of his patronage, and envied the power it gave him; he - bitterly lamented it. He said, 'I have in my gift three canonries, - two archdeaconries, and sixty livings, and if any of these fell - vacant to-morrow, I should be at my wit's end whom to appoint. On - the average, two livings fall vacant every year, and then comes my - time of trouble. A bishop who would appoint the best man would be - most unpopular in his diocese, for every one of his clergy would be - offended at not being considered the best.' With regard to the - canonries, I suggested that he could find no difficulty, as he - might always choose men who were employed in some great literary - work. The Bishop allowed that this was exactly what he desired, but - that no such men were to be found in his diocese. There were many - very respectable clergy, but none more especially distinguished - than the rest. He said that when he was appointed bishop, Dr. - Vaughan advised him never to become what he called 'a carpet-bag - bishop,' but that this, in fact, was just what he had become: that - when he was going to preach in a village and sleep in a clergyman's - house, he did not like to trouble them by taking a man-servant, and - that he often arrived carrying his own carpet-bag. That - consequently he often never had his clothes brushed, or even his - boots blacked, but that he brushed his boots with his clothes-brush - as well as he could, as he was afraid of ringing his bell for fear - of mortifying his hosts by showing that he had not already got all - that he wanted. He said, however, that the work of a bishop was - vastly overrated, that there was nothing which did not come within - the easy powers of one man, yet that a proposition had already been - made to exclude the bishops from the House of Lords, to reduce - their incomes to £1500, and to double their number. He said that he - believed all Conservatives had better at once emigrate to New - Zealand, and that he wondered the Queen did not invest in foreign - funds; that it was utterly impossible the monarchy could last much - longer; that the end would be hastened by the debts of the two - Princes. - - "When we reached Croyland we went into the Abbey Church, where the - Bishop pointed out the baptistery used for immersion, and several - curious epitaphs, one as late as 1729 asking prayers for the dead. - The drive was most curious over the fens, which are now drained, - but of which the soil is so light that they are obliged to marl it - all over to prevent its being blown away. The abbey itself is most - picturesque. It was built by St. Guthlac, a courtier, who retired - hither in a boat, but who came from no desire of seclusion and - prayer, but merely because he longed for the celebrity which must - accrue to him as a hermit. His sister, Pega, became the foundress - of Peakirk. The Bishop spoke much of the sublimity of the - conception under which these great abbeys were founded--'One God, - one Pope as God's interpreter, one Church, the servant of that - Pope, unity in everything.' He spoke of the Jesuit influence as - used to combat that of the Gallican Church, and he said that there - were now only three Gallican bishops. - - "Coming home, the Bishop talked about Wales, and asked if I had - ever compared the military tactics of the Romans with regard to - Wales with those of Edward I. 'The Romans,' he said, 'built the - castle of Lincoln for the repression of the savage people of the - fens, and with the same idea built a line of fortresses between - England and Wales for the repression of the Welsh; but the - consummate skill of Edward I. saw a better plan than this, and he - built a line of fortresses along the coast, which could be - provisioned from the sea, so that if the Welsh made a raid into - England, he could bring them back by falling upon their wives and - children. - - "In the evening the Bishop read aloud French poetry, a ballad of - the early part of the seventeenth century, on which Goldsmith had - evidently founded his 'Madame Blaise,' the powerful 'Malbrook,' and - many old hymns; also a beautiful hymn of Adolph Monod on the - Passion of Christ, which he said showed too much philosophy. He - described how he had preached in Westminster Abbey in French during - the great Exhibition, and the immense power of declamation that - French gave; that he had apostrophised those lying in the tombs, - the dead kings round about him, as he never should have ventured to - do in English. He spoke of the transitions of his life, that his - childhood had been passed amongst the rocks of Guernsey, and that - he had loved rocks and wild rolling seas ever since. That as a - child he was never allowed to speak French, as only the lower - orders spoke it, but that he went to the French college of S. - Servan, and there he learnt it. Then came his Oxford life, after - which, thinking that he was never likely to have any opening for - making his way in England, he went off to Canada in despair, - intending to become a settler in the backwoods. The rough life, - however, soon disgusted him, and in a year he returned to England, - where he became fellow and tutor of his college. Thence he was - appointed Dean of Jersey, and ruled there over the petty community. - Then he was made Master of Pembroke (where he remained twenty - years), Vice-Chancellor, Dean of Lincoln, and Bishop of - Peterborough. He spoke of the honour of Oxford men and the - consistency of the Hebdomadal Board, compared with others he had to - deal with. In Jersey, as a matter of course, all his subordinates - voted with their Dean. When he came to Oxford he expected the same - subserviency, and looked on all his colleagues with suspicion, but - he was soon convinced of their uprightness. He said touchingly - that, when near the grave, on looking back, it all seemed much the - same--the same pettiness of feeling, the same party strife, only he - did not worry himself about it; they were all in the hands of One - who died for all alike; that now there were changes in - everything--only One was unchanged. - - "Speaking of the morality of Italy, he said that his friend Mr. - Hamilton, head of a clan, had met 'Sandy,' one of his men, - travelling between Rome and Naples. After expressing his surprise - at seeing him there, he asked what he thought of Rome and Naples. - 'Wal,' said Sandy, 'I jist think that if naething happens to Rome - and Naples, Sodom and Gomorrah were very unjustly dealt with.' - - "'I met Gioberti in Italy,' said the Bishop, 'and asked him about - the Pope. "C'est une femme vertueuse," he replied, "mais c'est - toujours une femme."' - - "The Bishop said that, when younger, he wished to have written a - series of Bampton Lectures (and began them) on the History of the - Sacrament of the Lord's Supper. He intended to begin with a - description of three scenes--first, the supper in the upper chamber - at Jerusalem; then the Pope officiating at the altar of the - Lateran; then a simple Scotch meeting in the Highlands--and he - would proceed to describe what had led to the differences between - these; how the Agape was arranged as a point at which all divisions - and dissensions should be laid aside; how it was set aside after - sixty years by the Roman Emperor; then of the gradual growth of the - Eucharist, till oaths were taken on the wafer, and deeds were - sealed with it to give them a solemnity; and till, finally, it came - to be regarded as the actual body of Christ; then of the gradual - rise of all the different theories, the impanation, the invination - of the Saviour. - - "This morning the Bishop asked if I knew what was the difference - between the entrance of a field in France and England. 'In - England,' he said, 'it is a _gate_ to let people in; in France a - _barrière_ to keep people out: from this you might proceed to - theorise that England was a country where sheep might stray, but - France not: England a country for milk and flesh, France for corn - and wine.' - - "The Bishop said he knew our Roman acquaintance Mr. Goldsmid well. - 'I met Nat Goldsmid in Paris about the time of the Immaculate - Conception affair, and I said to him, "Goldsmid, now why has your - Church done this? for you know you all worshipped the Virgin as - much as you could before, and what more can you do for her - now?"--"Yes," he said, "that is quite true; we all worshipped the - Virgin before, but we have done this as a stepping-stone to - declaring the infallibility of the Pope. A Pope who could take upon - himself to declare _such_ a dogma as this must be infallible!"' - -From Peterborough I went to stay at Lincoln with Mrs. Nicholas Bacon, -mother of the premier baronet, a very pretty old lady, who reminded me -of the old lady in "David Copperfield," finding her chief occupation in -rapping at her window and keeping the Minster green opposite free from -intruding children, and unable to leave home for any time because then -they would get beyond her--"so sacrilegious," she told them, it was to -play there. Going with her to dine with that Mrs. Ellison of Sugbrooke -who has bequeathed a fine collection of pictures to the nation, I met -the very oldest party of people I ever saw in my life, and as one -octogenarian tottered in after another, felt more amazed, till Mrs. -Ellison laughingly explained that, as Mrs. Bacon had written that she -was going to bring "a very old friend" of hers, she had supposed it -would be agreeable to him to meet as many as possible of his -contemporaries! Afterwards, when staying with Mr. Clements at -Gainsborough, I saw Stowe, which, as an old cathedral, was the -predecessor of Lincoln--very curious and interesting. Thence I went to -Doncaster, arriving in time to help Kate[346] with a great tea-party to -her old women. She asked one old woman how she was. "Well," she said, "I -be middling _upwards_, but I be very bad _downwards_. I be troubled with -such bad legs; downright dangerous legs they be." After visits at -Durham, Cullercoats, and Ridley Hall, I went to stay with the -Dixon-Brownes at Unthank in Northumberland. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Unthank, August 27, 1867._--I spent yesterday morning in my - Northern home (at Ridley), which is in perfect beauty now--the - Allen water, full and clear, rushing in tiny waterfalls among the - mossy rocks, all the ferns in full luxuriance, and the rich heather - in bloom, hanging over the crags and edging the walks. At six - o'clock the flag was raised which stops all trains at the bottom of - the garden, and I came the wee journey of seven miles down the - lovely Tyne valley to Haltwhistle. Unthank is the old home of - Bishop Ridley, the house to which he wrote his last letter before - the stake, addressed to 'my deare sister of Unthanke,'--and it is a - beautiful spot in a green hollow, close under the purple slopes of - the grand moor called Plenmellor. The house is modern, but has an - old tower, and a garden splendid in gorgeous colouring sweeps up - the hill behind it. To-day we went up through a romantic gill - called 'The Heavenly Hole' to Plenmellor Tarn, a lovely blue lake - in the midst of the heather-clad hills. We spoke of it to an old - man there, 'Aye,' he said, 'it's jist a drap of water left by the - Fluid, and niver dried up.'" - - - "_Bonnyrigg, August 30._--This shooting lodge of Sir Edward - Blackett is quite in the uninhabited moorlands, but has lovely - views of a lake backed by craggy blue hills--just what my sweet - mother would delight to sketch. Lady Blackett is very clever and - agreeable.[347] We have been a fatiguing walk through the heather - to 'the Queen's Crag,' supposed to be Guinevere turned into stone." - - - "_Bamborough Castle, Sept. 7._--I always long especially for my - dearest mother in this grand old castle, to me perhaps the most - delightful place in the world, its wild scenery more congenial than - even beautiful Italy itself. Nothing too can be kinder than the - dear old cousins.[348] ... It was almost dark when we drove up the - links and under all the old gateways and through the rock entrance: - the light burning in Mrs. Liddell's recess in the court-room. And - it was pleasant to emerge from the damp into the brightly lighted - tapestried chamber with the dinner set out. All yesterday the - minute-gun was booming through the fog to warn ships off the - rocks--such a strangely solemn sound. - - "Mr. Liddell was speaking to an old Northumbrian here about the - organ yesterday, and he said, 'I canna bear the loike o' that kist - o' whistles a buzzin' in my ears.'" - - - "_The Lodge, North Berwick, Sept. 9._--I find my sweet hostess, - Mrs. Dalzel,[349] little altered, except perhaps more entirely - heavenly than before in all her thoughts and words. 'I am very near - the last station now,' she says, 'and then I shall be at home. I am - the last of fifteen, and I can think of them all _there_--my - mother, my sisters, one after another, resting upon their Saviour - alone, and now with Him for ever!' 'When one is old, the wonderful - discoveries, the great works of man only bewilder one and tire one; - but the flowers and the unfolding of Nature, all the wonderful - works of God, refresh and interest as much as ever: and may not it - be because these interests and pleasures are to be immortal, amid - the flowers that never fade?' - - "Mr. Dalzel does not look a day older, but he sat at dinner with a - green baize cloth before him to save his eyes. We dined at five, - and another Mrs. Dalzel came, who sang Scottish songs most - beautifully in the evening. Mr. Dalzel prayed aloud long extempore - prayers, and we dispersed at ten. Before dinner I went to the sands - with Mrs. Allen Dalzel,[350] who was very amusing:-- - - "'The old Dalzel house is at Binns near Linlithgow. The first - Dalzel was an attendant of one of the early Kenneths. The king's - favourite was taken by his enemies and hanged on a tree. "Who will - dare to cut him down?" said the king. "Dalzel," or "I dare," said - the attendant, who cut him down with his dagger. Hence came the - name, and hence the Dalzels bear a dagger as their crest, with the - motto "I dare," and on their arms a man hanging. - - "'At Binns there are trees cut in the shape of men hanging. There - is also a picture of the "tyrannous Dalzel," who persecuted the - Covenanters, and who made a vow at the death of Charles I. that he - would never shave again or change his costume. He lived for fifty - years after that, but he never cut his beard, and he is represented - in his odd suit of chamois leather, with a high-peaked hat and his - hair down to his waist. - - "'His comrade was Grierson of Lag, whose eye was the most terrible - ever seen. Long after the persecution was over, he was told that a - servant in the house had a great curiosity to see him. "Let him - bring me a glass of wine," said Grierson. The servant brought it in - upon a salver. Grierson waited till he came close up, and then, - fixing his eye on him, exclaimed, "Are there ony Whigs in Galloway - noo?" and the effect was so terrible, that the servant dropped the - salver, glass and all, and rushed out of the room. - - "'I used to go and teach Betty O'Brien to read when we lived at - Seacliffe. Her mother was a clean tidy body, and, though she had - not a penny in the world, she was very proud, for she came from the - North of Ireland, and looked down upon all who came from the South. - I asked her why she did not make friends with her neighbours, and - she said, "D'ye think I'd consort wi' the loike o' them, just - Connaught folk?" So on this I changed the subject as quick as I - could, for I just came from Connaught myself. - - "'Her daughter, however, married one of those very Connaught - Irish--what she called "the boy O'Flinn," and she would have - nothing to do with her afterwards; and she lay in wait for "the boy - O'Flinn," and threw a stone at him, which hit him in the chest so - badly that he was in bed for a week afterwards. When I heard of - this, I went to see her and said, "Well, Betty, you're Irish, and - I'm Irish, and I think we just ought to set a good example and show - how well Irishwomen can behave." But she soon cut short my little - sermon by saying, "They've been telling tales o' me, have they? and - it's not off you they keep their tongues neither: they say you're a - _Roman_!" I did not want to hear any more, and was going out of the - cottage, when she called after me in a fury, "_I_ know what you've - been staying so long in Edinburgh for; you just stay here to fast - and to pray, and then you go there to faast and drink tay."'" - - - "_Sept. 10._--I wish for my dearest mother every hour in this - sanctuary of peace and loving-kindness, with the sweet presence of - Mrs. Dalzel. What she is and says it is quite impossible to give an - idea of; but she is truly what Milton describes-- - - "Insphered - In regions mild of calm and air serene, - Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot - Which men call earth." - - "Her constant communion with heaven makes all the world to her - only a gallery of heavenly pictures, creating a succession of - heavenly thoughts, and she has so sweet and gentle a manner of - giving these thoughts to others, that all, even those least in - unison with her, are equally impressed by them. Most striking of - all is her large-heartedness and admiration of all the good people - who disagree with her. Her daughter-in-law has quite given up - everything else in her devotion to her: it is really Ruth and Naomi - over again. - - "This afternoon we drove to Tantallon and on to Seacliffe, a most - beautiful place on the coast, where Mrs. Dalzel lived formerly. A - delightful little walk under a ruined manor-house and through a - wood of old buckthorn trees led down to the sea, and a most grand - view of Tantallon rising on its red rocks. We walked afterwards to - 'Canty Bay,' so called because the Covenanters sang Psalms there - when they were being embarked for the Bass. - - "'How curious it would be,' Mrs. Dalzel has been saying, 'if all - the lines on people's faces had writing on them to say what brought - them there. What strange tales they would tell!' - - "'Oh, what it is to be at peace! at perfect peace with God! in - perfect reliance on one's Saviour! I often think it is like a - person who has packed up for a journey. When all his work is - finished and all his boxes are packed, he can sit down in the last - hour before his departure and rest in peace, for all his - preparations are made. So in the last hours of life one may rest in - peace, if the work of preparation is already done.' - - "'I used to count the future by years: now I only do it by months; - perhaps I can only do it by weeks.' - - "'My eldest brother lived in a great world. He was very handsome - and much admired. As aide-de-camp to Sir Ralph Abercromby, George - IV. made him his friend, and many people paid court to him. At last - one day he came to my dear mother, who was still living in her - great age, and who had found her Saviour some years before, and - said to her, "Mother, I feel that my health is failing and that - this world is rapidly slipping away from me, and I have no certain - hope for the next: what would you advise me to do?" And my mother - said to him, "My dear son, I can only advise you to do what I have - done myself, take your Bible and read it with prayer upon your - knees, and God will send you light." And my brother did so, and God - granted him the perfect peace that passeth understanding. He lived - many years after that, but his health had failed, and his Bible was - his constant companion. When I went to see him, he used to lay his - hand on the Book and say, "_This_ is my comforter." A few years - before he died, a malady affected one of his legs which obliged him - to have the limb amputated. When the operation was about to - commence, the doctor who was standing by felt his pulse, and did - not find it varied in the least. "General Macmurdo," he said, "you - are a hero."--"No," said my brother solemnly, "but I hope I am a - Christian." And the doctor said he felt the power of Christianity - from that day.' - - "'From the shore of another world all my past life seems like a - dream.'[351] - - "I think if one stayed here long, one would quite feel the - necessity of sinning occasionally to avoid the danger of becoming - intolerant of petty faults and unsuitablenesses, from living with - those so entirely without them." - - - "_Carstairs, Sept. 18._--This is a large and comfortable house, and - Mr. Monteith is busied with various improvements in the grounds. - One improvement I should certainly make would be the destruction of - a horrible tomb of a former possessor of the place, an atheist - relation, with an inscription 'to the Infernal Deities.' No wonder - that the avenue leading to the tomb is said to be haunted." - -It was during this summer that old Lady Webster died.[352] She had long -been a conspicuous figure in our home neighbourhood, and had seemed to -possess the secret of eternal youth. In my childhood she reigned like a -queen at Battle, but the Websters had several years before been obliged -to sell Battle to Lord Harry Vane (afterwards Duke of Cleveland), -chiefly because there were five dowager Lady Websters at once, all -drawing jointures from the already impoverished property. Of these -ladies, three, usually known as "the good Lady Webster," "Grace, Lady -Webster," and "the great Lady Webster," lived much at Hastings. When the -great Lady Webster died, she left several sons, and it was a subject of -much comment at the time that, when her will was opened, she was found -to have left nothing to any of them. Her will was very short. She left -everything she possessed in the world to her dear and faithful companion -Madame Bergeret. It excited many unkind remarks, but those who learnt -the real facts always admitted that, in the crowning act of her life, -Lady Webster had only acted with that sense of justice and duty which -had ever been her characteristic. The story is this:[353]-- - - Towards the latter part of the last century there lived at an old - manorial farm in Brittany a female farmer named Bergeret. Her - ancestors had owned the farm, and had cultivated their own land for - hundreds of years, and Madame Bergeret herself was well known and - highly respected through all the neighbouring country, charitable - to her poorer neighbours, frank, kind, and unfailingly hospitable - to those in her own rank of life. She lived bounteously, kept an - open house, and spent in beneficence and hospitality the ample - income which her lands brought her. - - One day she was surprised by a visit from her next neighbour, a man - named Girard, in her own class of life, whose family had always - been known to her own, and who had possessed the neighbouring farm. - He told her that he felt she would be shocked to hear that he had - long been acting a part in making himself appear much better off - than he was; that he had lost a great deal of money in speculation; - that all was on the eve of being divulged; that if he could manage - to keeps things going till after the next harvest, he might tide - over his misfortunes, but that otherwise he must be totally ruined, - lose everything he had, and bring his wife and children to - destitution; and by the recollection of their old neighbourhood and - long intimacy he adjured Madame Bergeret to help him. Madame - Bergeret was very sorry--very sorry indeed, but she told him that - it was impossible; and it really was. She lived amply up to her - income, she had laid nothing by: she was well off, but all she had - came from her lands; her income depended upon her harvest; she - really had nothing to give to her poor neighbour, and she told him - so--told him so with a very heavy heart, and he went away terribly - crestfallen and miserable. - - When Girard was gone, Madame Bergeret looked round her room, and - she saw there a collection of fine old gold plate, such as often - forms the source of pride to a Breton yeoman of old family, and - descends like a patent of nobility from one generation to another, - greatly reverenced and guarded. Madame Bergeret looked at her - plate, and she said to herself, "If this was sold, it would produce - a very large sum; and ought I, for the sake of mere family pride, - to allow an old and honourable family to go to destitution?" And - she called her neighbour back, and she gave Girard all her gold - plate. The sum for which he was able to sell it helped him through - till after the harvest; soon afterwards he found an opportunity of - disposing of his Breton lands to very great advantage, and removed - to another part of the country. He thanked Madame Bergeret, but he - did not seem to realise that she had made any great sacrifice in - his behalf; and she, resting satisfied in having done what she - believed to be right, expected no more. - - Some years afterwards, Madame Bergeret, being an old woman, placed - her Breton lands in the hands of an agent, and removed with her two - children to Paris. The great French Revolution occurred while she - was there, and the Reign of Terror came on, and Madame Bergeret, - who belonged to a Royalist family of loyal Brittany, was arrested: - she was thrown into the prison of La Force, and she was condemned - to death. - - The Madame Bergeret I knew in another generation recollected being - with her little brother in a room on the Rue St Honoré on the day - on which a hundred and twenty persons were to suffer in the Place - Louis XV. She saw them pass down the street to execution in - twenty-two tumbrils; but when the last tumbril came beneath the - window, the friends who were with her in the room drew down the - blinds; not, however, before she had recognised her own mother in - that tumbril, with all her hair cut off, that the head might come - off more easily. - - All the way to the place of execution, Madame Bergeret consoled - and encouraged her companions, and she assented to their petition - that she should suffer last, that she would see them through the - dread portal before her. Therefore, when her turn at length came, - the ground around the scaffold was one sea of blood, for a hundred - and nineteen persons had perished that day. Thus, on descending the - steps of the cart, Madame Bergeret slipped and stumbled. This - arrested the attention of the deputy who was set to watch the - executions. He started, and then rushed forward saying, "This woman - has no business here. I know her very well; she is a most honest - citoyenne, or, if she is not, I know quite well how to make her so: - this woman is not one to be guillotined." It was Girard. - - Now Madame Bergeret was quite prepared for death, but the sudden - revulsion of her deliverance overcame her and she fainted. Girard - carried her away in his arms, and when she came to herself she was - in bed in a house in a quiet back-street of Paris, and he was - watching over her. He had removed to Lyons, and, with the sudden - changes of the time, had risen to be deputy, and being set to watch - the executions, had recognised the woman who had saved him. By the - help of Girard, and after many hairbreadth escapes, Madame Bergeret - reached the coast, and eventually arrived in England. She then made - her way to the only person she knew, a lady who had once spent some - time in her Breton village, a Mrs. Adamson. Her daughter played - with and was brought up with the little Miss Adamson. When Miss - Adamson married Sir Godfrey Webster of Battle Abbey, Mademoiselle - Bergeret (her mother being dead) went with her and lived at Battle - as a sort of companion to Lady Webster and nursery-governess to her - boys. For fifty years she never received any salary, and having, - through the changes of things in France, inherited something of her - mother's Breton property, she twice sacrificed her little all to - pay the debts of the Webster family. Therefore it was that, in the - close of life, Lady Webster felt that her sons might provide for - themselves, but that, having very little to bequeath, the one - person she could not leave destitute was "her dear and faithful - companion and friend, Madame Bergeret." - - Five months before her death, Lady Webster was very full of the - terrible deaths which had lately occurred from railway accidents, - and, on leaving home, she said to Madame Bergeret, "Here is this - paper, and if I should be killed by an accident or not live to come - home, you may read it; but at any rate keep it for me, and perhaps, - if I come back, some day I may want it again." Lady Webster came - back well and did not ask for the paper, and when she died, it was - so sudden, a few minutes after talking quite cheerfully to Madame - Bergeret, that in the shock she remembered nothing about it, and it - was only long afterwards, when they were making a great fuss about - there being no will, that she suddenly thought of the paper - entrusted to her, and, when it was read, found Lady Webster had - left her all she possessed. - - Madame Bergeret dying herself about a year afterwards, left - everything back to the Webster family. She was a quiet primitive - old woman, who used to sit in the background at work in Lady - Webster's sitting-room. - -After my return home in the autumn of 1867, my mother was terribly ill, -so that our journey abroad was a very anxious one to look forward to. I -tried, however, to face it quite cheerily. I have read in an American -novel somewhere, "It is no use to pack up any worries to take with you; -you can always pick up plenty on the way;" and I have always found it -true. - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT _and_ JOURNAL. - - "_Nice, Nov. 17, 1867._--My dear Aunt Sophy will be delighted to - see this date. So far all our troubles and anxieties are past, and - the sweet Mother certainly not the worse, perhaps rather better for - all her fatigues. It is an extraordinary case, to be one day lying - in a sort of vision on the portals of another world, the next up - and travelling. - - [Illustration: FONTAINES.[354]] - - "When we reached Paris she was terribly exhausted, then slept for - thirty-six hours like a child, almost without waking. At the - Embassy we were urged to go on to Rome, all quiet and likely to - subside into a dead calm; but so much snow had fallen on Mont - Cenis, that in Mother's weak state we could not risk that passage, - and were obliged to decide upon coming round by the coast. On - Monday we reached Dijon, where twenty-four hours' sleep again - revived the Mother. It was fiercely cold, but Tuesday brightened - into a glorious winter's day, and I had a most enchanting walk - through sunshine and bracing air to Fontaines. It is picturesque - French country, a winding road with golden vines and old stone - crosses, and a distance of oddly-shaped purple hills. Fontaines - itself is a large village, full of mouldering mediæval fragments, - stretching up a hillside, which becomes steeper towards the top, - and is crowned by a fine old church, a lawn with groups of old - walnut-trees, and the remains of the château where St. Bernard was - born. Over the entrance is a statue of him, and within, the room of - his birth is preserved as a chapel. The view from the churchyard is - lovely, and the graves are marked by ancient stone crosses and - bordered with flowers. Within are old tombs and inscriptions--'Ce - git la très haute et très puissante dame,' &c. - - "We came on to Arles by the quick night-train, and stayed there as - usual two days and a half--days of glaring white sirocco and no - colour, and at Arles we found ourselves at once in Southern heat, - panting, without fires and with windows wide open." - -[Illustration: ARC DE S. CESAIRE, ALISCAMPS, ARLES.[355]] - - "_Pisa, Dec. 1._--We left Nice on the 21st, and slept at Mentone, - quite spoilt by building and by cutting down trees. I saw many - friends, especially the Comtesse d'Adhemar, who flung her arms - round me and kissed me on both cheeks. We spent the middle of the - next day at S. Remo and slept at Oneglia. The precipices are truly - appalling. I have visions still of the early morning drive from - Oneglia along dewy hillsides and amongst hoary olives, and through - the narrow gaily painted streets of the little fishing-towns, where - the arches meet overhead and the wares set out before the - shop-doors brush the carriage as it passes by. - -[Illustration: AT SAVONA.[356]] - - "The second day, at Loiano, I was left behind. I went just outside - the hotel to draw, begging my mother and Lea to pick me up as they - went by. The carriage passed close by me and they did not see me. - At first I did not hurry myself, thinking, when they did not find - me, that they would stop for me a little farther on; but seeing the - carriage go on and on, I ran after it as hard as I could, shouting - at the pitch of my voice; but it never stopped, and I quite lost - sight of it in the narrow streets of one of the fishing-villages - before reaching Finale. At Finale I was in absolute despair at - their not stopping, which seemed inexplicable, and I pursued mile - after mile, footsore and weary, through the grand mountain coves in - that part of the Riviera and along the desolate shore to Noli, - where, just as night closed in, I was taken up by some people - driving in a little carriage, on the box of which, in a bitter cold - wind, I was carried to Savona, where I arrived just as our heavy - carriage with its inmates was driving into the hotel. It was one of - the odd instances of my dear mother's insouciance, of her - 'happy-go-lucky' nature: 'they had not seen me, they had not looked - back; no, they supposed I should get on somehow; they knew I always - fell on my legs.' And I was perfectly conscious that if I had not - appeared for days, my mother would have said just the same. We - spent a pleasant Sunday at Savona, the views most beautiful of the - wonderfully picturesque tower, calm bay of sapphire water, and - delicate mountain distance. - - "The landlord of the Croce di Malta at Genoa engaged a _vetturino_ - to take us to La Spezia. The first day, it was late when we left - Sta. Margherita, where we stayed for luncheon. The driver lighted - his lamps at Chiavari. Soon both my companions fell asleep. I sat - up watching the foam of the sea at the bottom of the deep black - precipices without parapets as long as I could see it through the - gloom: then it became quite dark. Suddenly there was a frightful - bolt of the horses, scream after scream from the driver, an awful - crash, and we were hurled violently over and over into the black - darkness. A succession of shrieks from Lea showed me that she was - alive, but I thought at first my mother must be killed, for there - was no sound from her. Soon the great troop of navvies came up, - whose sudden appearance from the mouth of a tunnel, each with a - long iron torch in his hand, had made the horses bolt. One of them - let down his torch into the mired and broken carriage as it lay - bottom upwards. 'Povera, poveretta,' he exclaimed, as he saw Lea - sitting pouring with blood amongst the broken glass of the five - great windows of the carriage. Then Mother's voice from the depth - of the hood assured us that she was not hurt, only buried under the - cushions and bags, and she had courage to remain perfectly - motionless, while sheet after sheet of broken glass was taken from - off her (she would have been cut to pieces if she had moved) and - thrown out at the top of the carriage. Then there was a great - consultation as to _how_ we were to be got out, which ended in the - carriage being bodily lifted and part of the top taken off, making - an opening through which first Lea was dragged and afterwards the - Mother. Then my mother, who had not walked at all for many weeks, - was compelled to walk more than a mile to Sestri, in pitch darkness - and pouring rain, dragged by a navvy on one side and me on the - other. Another navvy supported Lea, who was in a fainting state, - and others carried torches. We excited much pity when we arrived at - the little inn at Sestri, and the people were most hospitable and - kind. I had always especially wished to draw a particular view of a - gaily painted church tower and some grand aloes on the road near - Sestri, and it was curious to be enabled to do so the next day by - our forcible detention there for want of a carriage. - -[Illustration: SESTRI.[357]] - - "On the 29th we crossed once more the grand pass of Bracco, with - its glorious scenery of billowy mountains ending in the delicate - peaks of Carrara; and we baited at a wretched village where Mother - was able to walk in the sunny road. Yesterday we came here by the - exquisite railway under Massa Ducale, and were rapturously welcomed - by Victoire[358] and her daughter." - - - "_Palazzo Parisani, Rome, Dec. 10._--We had a wearisome journey - here on the 3rd, the train not attempting to keep any particular - time, and stopping more than an hour at Orbetello for the - '_discorso_' of the guard and engine-driver,[359] and at other - stations in proportion. However, Mother quite revived when the - great masses of the aqueducts began to show in the moonlight. They - had given up expecting us in the Palazzo, where my sister has lent - us her apartments, and it was long before we could get any one to - open the door. - - "It has been bitterly cold ever since we arrived and the air filled - with snow. The first acquaintance I saw was the Pope! He was at the - Trinità de' Monte, and I waited to see him come down the steps and - receive his blessing on our first Roman morning. He looked - dreadfully weak, and Monsignor Talbot seemed to be holding him - tight up lest he should fall. The Neapolitan royal family I have - already seen, always in their deep mourning.[360] - - "The Pincio is still surrounded with earthworks, and the barricades - remain outside the gates: a great open moat yawns in front of the - door of the English Church. The barrack near St. Peter's is a - hideous ruin. The accounts of the battle of Mentana are awful: when - the Pontificals had expended all their ammunition, they rushed upon - the Garibaldians and tore them with their teeth. - - "Terrible misery has been left by the cholera, and the streets are - far more full of beggars than ever. The number of deaths has been - frightful--Princess Colonna and her daughters; old Marchese - Serlupi; Müller the painter and his child; Mrs. Foljambe's old maid - of thirty years; Mrs. Ramsay's donna and the man who made tea at - her parties, are amongst those we have known. The first day we were - out, Lea and I saw a woman in deep mourning, who was evidently - begging, look wistfully at us, and had some difficulty in - recognising Angela, our donna of 1863. Her husband, handsome - Antonio the fisherman, turned black of the cholera in the - Pescheria, and died in a few hours, and her three children have - been ill ever since. - - "Mrs. Shakspeare Wood has been to see us, and described the summer - which she has spent here--six thousand deaths in Rome between May - and November, sixty in the Forum of Trajan, thirty in the - Purificazione alone. The Government wisely forbade any funeral - processions, and did not allow the bells to be tolled, and the dead - were taken away at night. Then came the war. The gates were closed, - and an edict published bidding all the citizens, when they heard - 'cinque colpi di cannóne, d'andare subito a casa.' The Woods laid - in quantities of flour, and spent £5 in cheese, only remembering - afterwards that, having forgotten to lay in any fuel, they could - not have baked their bread." - - - "_Dec. 13._--Yesterday I went to Mrs. Robert De Selby.[361] She - described the excitement of the battles. In the thick of it all she - got a safe-conduct and drove out to Mentana to be near her husband - in case he was wounded. She also drove several times to the army - with provisions and cordials. If they tried to stop her, she said - she was an officer's wife taking him his dinner, and they let her - pass. One of the officers said afterwards to her mother, 'La sua - figlia vale un altro dragone.' - - "She told me Lady Anne S. Giorgio (her mother),[362] was living in - the Mercede, and I went there at once. She was overjoyed to see me, - and embraced me with the utmost affection. She is also enchanted to - be near the Mother, her 'saint in a Protestant niche.' She is come - here because 'all the old sinners in Florence' disapproved of her - revolutionary tendencies. Lady Anne remembered my father's great - intimacy with Mezzofanti. She said my father had once a servant who - came from an obscure part of Hungary where they spoke a very - peculiar dialect. One day, going to Mezzofanti, he took his servant - with him. The Cardinal asked the man where he came from, and, on - his telling him, addressed him in the dialect of his native place. - The man screamed violently, and, making for the door, tried to - escape: he took Mezzofanti for a wizard. - - "Lady Anne recollected my father's extreme enjoyment of a scene of - this kind. There was a Dr. Taylor who used to worship the heathen - gods--Mars and Mercury, and the rest. One day at Oxford, in the - presence of my father and of one of the professors, he took his - little silver images of the gods out of his pocket and began to - pray to them and burn incense. The professor, intensely shocked, - tried to interfere, but my father started up--'How _can_ you be so - foolish? _do_ be quiet: don't you see you're interrupting the - comedy?' The same Dr. Taylor was afterwards arrested for - sacrificing a bullock to Neptune in a back-parlour in London!" - - - "_44 Piazza di Spagna, Dec. 29._--We moved here on the 20th to a - delightfully comfortable apartment, which is a perfect sun-trap. - Most truly luxurious indeed does Rome seem after Cannes--food, - house, carriages, all so good and reasonable. I actually gave a - party before we left my sister's apartment, lighting up those fine - rooms, and issuing the invitations in my own name, in order that - Mother might not feel obliged to appear unless quite equal to it at - the moment. Three days after I had another party for children--tea - and high romps afterwards in the long drawing-room. - - "On the 21st I went with the Erskines, Mrs. Ramsay, and Miss - Garden, by rail to Monte Rotondo. The quantity of soldiers at the - station and all along the road quite allayed any fears of brigands - which had been entertained regarding the mile and a half between - the village and the railway. The situation proved quite - beautiful--the old houses crowned by the Piombino castle, rising - from vineyards and gardens, backed by the purple peak of Monte - Gennaro. Beyond, in the hollow, is the convent where Garibaldi was - encamped, and farther still the battlefield of Mentana. - - "On the 23rd there was a magnificent reception at the Spanish - Embassy. Every one went to salute the new ambassador, Don - Alessandro del Castro, and the whole immense suite of rooms thrown - open had a glorious effect. There was an abundance of cardinals, - and the Roman princesses all arrived in their diamonds. The - Borgheses came in as a family procession, headed by Princess - Borghese in blue velvet and diamonds. The young English Princess - Teano looked lovely in blue velvet and gold brocade. On Christmas - Day I went to St Peter's for the coming in of the Pope, and stayed - long enough to see Francis II. arrive with his suite. In the - afternoon I took Lea to the Ara Cœli and Sta. Maria Maggiore. At - the Ara Cœli great confusion prevails and much enthusiasm on - account of a new miracle. When people were ill, upon their paying a - scudo for the carriage, the Santo Bambino was brought by two of the - monks, and left upon the sick-bed, to be fetched away some hours - after in the same way. A sacrilegious lady determined to take - advantage of this to steal the Bambino; so she pretended her child - was ill and paid her scudo; but as soon as ever the monks were - gone, she had a false Bambino, which she had caused to be prepared, - dressed up in the clothes of the real one, and when the monks came - back they took away the false Bambino without discovering the - fraud, and carried it to the place of honour in the Church of Ara - Cœli. - - "That night the convent awoke to fearful alarm, every bell rang at - the same moment, awful sounds were heard at the doors; the - trembling brotherhood hastened to the church, but loud and fast the - knocks continued on the very door of the sanctuary ('bussava, - bussava, bussava'). At last they summoned courage to approach the - entrance with lights, and behold, a little tiny pink child's foot, - which was poked in under the door; and they opened the door wide, - and there without, on the platform at the head of the steps, stood, - in the wind and the rain, quite naked, the real Bambino of Ara - Cœli. So then the real child was restored to its place, and the - lady, confounded and disgraced, was bidden to take the false child - home again. - - "Our donna, Louisa, was in ecstasies when she told us this - story--'Oh com' è graziosa, oh com' è graziosa questa storia,'--and - she never can understand why we do not send for the Bambino to cure - Mother of all her ailments, though, in consequence of the theft, it - is now never left alone in a house, but is taken away by the same - monks who bring it. Lea was imprudent enough to say she did not - believe the Bambino would ever do _her_ any good; but when Louisa, - looking at her with wondering eyes, asked why, said weakly, - 'Because I have such a bad heart,' in which Louisa quite acquiesced - as a reason. - - "It had been a sad shadow hitherto over all this winter that my - sweetest Mother had been so ill. At Parisani I had many sad days - and nights too. She suffered almost constantly from pain in the - back, and moaned in a way which went to my very heart.... Twice - only in the fortnight was Mother able to get out to the Forum and - walk in the sun from the Coliseum to the Capitol, and she felt the - cold most terribly, and certainly the Palazzo was very cold. - - "At first, when we came to this house, Mother was better, and she - was delighted with these rooms, which fulfilled a presentiment she - had told me of before we left home, that this winter she should - have the pleasantest apartment she had ever had yet. But on the - 21st she was chilled when driving with Mrs. Hall to Torre Quinto, - and that evening quite lost her power of articulation. It only - lasted about an hour.... She was conscious of it afterwards, and - said, 'It was so odd, I was not able to speak.' Some days after, - though able to articulate, she was unable to find the words she - needed, calling the commonest things by their wrong names, and this - was the more alarming as more likely to be continuous. On Thursday - she was well enough to drive with me to the Aqua Acetosa, and walk - there in the sun on the muddy Tiber bank, but that evening she - became worse, and since then has scarcely been out of bed." - - - "_Dec. 30._--On Saturday I was constantly restless, with a sense of - fire near me, but could discover nothing burning in the apartment. - I had such a strong presentiment of fire that I refused to go out - all day. When Lea came in with my tea at 8 P.M., I told her what an - extraordinary noise I continually heard--a sort of rushing over the - ceiling, which was of strained canvas--but she thought nothing of - it. Soon after she was gone, a shower of sparks burst into the room - and large pieces of burning wood forced their way through a hole - in the ceiling. Shouting to Lea, I rushed up to the next floor, and - rang violently and continuously at the bell, shouting 'Fuoco, - fuoco;' but the owners of the apartment were gone to bed and would - not get up; so, without losing time, I flew downstairs, roused the - porter, sent him off to fetch Ferdinando Manetti, who was - responsible for our apartment, and then for the _pompieri_. - Meantime the servants of Miss Robertson, who lived below us, had - come to our help, and assisted in keeping the fire under with - sponges of water, while Lea and I rushed about securing money, - valuables, drawings, &c., and then, dragging out our great boxes, - began rapidly to fill them. Mother was greatly astonished at seeing - us moving in and out with great piles of things in our arms, but - did not realise at once what had happened. I had just arranged for - her being wrapped up in blankets and carried through the streets to - Palazzo Parisani, when the _pompieri_ arrived. From that time there - was no real danger. They tore up the bricks of the floor above us, - and poured water through upon the charred and burning beams, and a - cascade of black water and hot bricks tumbled through together into - our drawing-room." - - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Jan. 1._--Alas! I can give but a poor account of her who occupies - all my real thoughts and interests. My sweetest Mother is still - very, very feeble, and quite touchingly helpless. She varies like a - thermometer with the weather, and if it is fine, is well enough to - see Mrs. Hall and one or two friends, but she is seldom able to be - dressed before twelve o'clock, and often has to lie down again - before four. I seldom like to be away from her long, and never by - day or night feel really free from anxiety." - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Jan. 2, 1868._--I have been out twice in the evening--to Mrs. - Ramsay to meet M. de Soveral, the ex-minister of Portugal, and his - wife and daughter, and to Mrs. Hall to meet the Erskines. Mrs. Hall - described a sermon she had lately heard at the Coliseum, the whole - object of which was the glorification of Mary Queen of Scots. It - was most painful, she said, describing how Elizabeth, who turned - only to her Bible, died a prey to indescribable torments of mind, - while Mary, clinging to her crucifix, died religiously and - devoutly. - - "The Marchesa Serlupi has given a fearful account of the Albano - tragedy. The old Marchese had come to them greatly worn out with - his labours in attendance on the Pope during the canonisation,[363] - and he was seized with cholera almost at once. When the doctor - came, his hair was standing on end with horror. He said he had not - sat down for eighteen hours, hurrying from one to another. He said - the old Marchese had the cholera, and it was no use doing anything - for him, he would be dead in a few hours. The Marchesa thought he - had gone mad with fright, which in fact he had. When he was gone, - she gave remedies of her own to the old man, which subdued the - cholera at the time, but he sank afterwards from exhaustion. - During that time the dead all around them were being carried out: - the Appian Way was quite choked up by those who were in flight, and - people were dying among the tombs all along the wayside. - - "As soon as the old Marchese was dead, the Serlupi family - determined to fly. As the Marchesa had been constantly nursing the - old man, she would not take her child with her, and sent him on - first in another carriage. When they got half way, a man came up to - them saying that the person who was with the child in the other - carriage was in the agonies of death, and they had to take the - child into their own carriage. At the half-way house they stopped - to inquire for a party of friends who had preceded them: five had - fled in the carriage, three were already dead! There was only one - remedy which was never known to fail: it was discovered by a - Capuchin monk, and is given in wine. It is not known what the - medicine is, and its effect entirely depends upon the exact - proportions being given. The Marchesa used to send dozens of wine - to the Capuchin, and then give it away impregnated with the - medicine to the poor people in Rome. - - "To-day my darling has been rather better, and was able to drive - for an hour on the Pincio. Yesterday evening she prayed aloud for - herself most touchingly before both me and Lea, that God would look - upon her infirmities, that He would forgive her weakness, and - supply the insufficiency of her prayers. Her sweet pleading voice, - tremulous with weakness, went to our hearts, and her trembling - upturned look was inexpressibly affecting." - - - "_Feb. 4._--When we first came here, we were much attracted by - Francesca Bengivenga, a pleasant cordial woman who lets the - apartment above us, and who lived in a corner of it with her nice - respectable old mother. Lea went up to see them, and gave quite a - pretty description of the old woman sitting quietly in her room at - needlework, while the daughter bustled about. - - "On January 9 we were startled by seeing a procession carrying the - Last Sacraments up our staircase, and on inquiry heard that it was - to a very old woman who was dying at the top of the house. Late in - the evening it occurred to Lea that the sick person at the top of - the house might perhaps be in want, and she went up to Francesca to - inquire if she could be of any use. Then, for the first time, we - heard that it had been Francesca's mother who had been ill, and - that she had died an hour after the priests had been. Francesca - herself was in most terrible anguish of grief, but obliged to - control herself, because only a few days before she had let her - apartment, and did not venture to tell her lodgers what had - occurred in the house. So whenever the bell rang, she had to dry - her tears by an effort, and appear as if nothing had happened. We - urged her to reveal the truth, which at length she did with a great - burst of sobs, and the tenants took it well. The next day at four - o'clock the old woman was carried away, and on the following - morning I pleased Francesca by attending at the _messa cantata_ in - S. Andrea delle Fratte. - - "On January 10 Charlotte and Gina Leycester arrived. By way of - showing civilities to acquaintance, I have had several excursions - to the different hills, explaining the churches and vineyards with - the sights they contain. On the Aventine I had a very large--too - large a party. With the Erskines I went to San Salvatore in Lauro, - where the old convent is partially turned into a barrack, and was - filled with Papal Zouaves, who spoke a most unintelligible jargon - which turned out to be High Dutch. A very civil little officer, - however, took us into a grand old chapel opening out of the - cloisters, but now occupied as a soldiers' dormitory, and filled - with rows of beds, while groups of soldiers were sitting on the - altar-steps and on the altar itself, and had even piled their arms - and hung up their knapsacks on the splendid tomb of Pope Eugenius - IV., which was the principal object of our visit.[364] We went on - hence to the Vallicella, where we saw the home and relics of S. - Filippo Neri--his fine statue in the sacristy, his little cell with - its original furniture, his stick, his shoes, the crucifix he held - when he was dying, the coffin in which he lay in state, the - pictures which belonged to him, and the little inner chapel with - the altar at which he prayed, adorned with the original picture, - candlesticks, and ornaments. - - "Another excursion has been to the Emporium, reached by an - unpleasant approach, the Via della Serpe behind the Marmorata, an - Immondezzajo half a mile long; but it is a fine mass of ruin, with - an old gothic loggia, in a beautiful vineyard full of rare and - curious marbles. Close by, on the bank of the Tiber, the ancient - port of the Marmorata is now being cleaned out. - - "My dearest Mother continues very ailing and terribly weak, but I - am hopeful now (as the cold months are so far advanced), that we - may steer through the remainder of the winter, and that I may once - more have the blessing of taking her back to England restored to - health and power. Every Friday she has been seriously ill, but has - rallied afterwards. On Friday 17th, she was very ill, and I was too - anxious about her to rest at all during the night, but perpetually - flitted ghost-like in and out of her room. Last Friday again she - was, if anything, worse still, such a terrible cloud coming over - all her powers, with the most complete exhaustion. I scarcely left - her all day. When these sad days are over, life becomes quite - different, so heavy is the burden lifted off, and it is difficult - to realise all that they have been, the wearing anxiety as to what - is best to be done, the terribly desolate future seeming so near at - hand, all the after scenes presenting themselves so vividly, like - fever phantoms, to the imagination, and then sometimes the seeming - carried with my dearest one to the very gates of the unseen - world.... She is always patient, always self-forgetful, and her - obedience to her 'doctor,' as she calls me, is too touching, too - entirely confiding and childlike. Oh, if our unity is broken by - death, no one, _no one_ will ever realise what it has been. Come - what will, I can bless God for this winter, in which that union has - been without one tarnished moment, one passing difference, in which - my sweetest one has entirely leant upon me, and I have entirely - lived for her. - - - "_Feb. 9._--There is no improvement in my dearest Mother. If there - is a temporary rally, it is followed by a worse attack and intense - fits of exhaustion, and the effort of going up and down stairs - fatigues her so much that it is difficult to judge how far it is - wise to gratify her constant craving for air. On Tuesday, Lea and I - took her to the Monte Mario, and she sat in the carriage while we - got out and picked flowers in the Villa Mellini. That day she was - certainly better, and able to enjoy the drive to a certain degree, - and to admire the silver foam of the fountains of St. Peter's as we - passed them. I often think how doubly touching these and many other - beautiful sights may become to me, if I should be left here, when - she, with whom I have so often enjoyed them, has passed away from - us to the vision of other and more glorious scenes. - - "It is in these other scenes, not _here_, that I often think my - darling's mind is already wandering. When she sits in her great - weakness, doing nothing, yet so quiet, and with her loving - beautiful smile ever on her revered countenance, it is surely of no - earthly scenes that my darling is thinking. - - "In the night I am often seized with an irresistible longing to - know how she is, and then I steal quietly through the softly - opening doors into her room and watch her asleep by the light of - the night-lamp. Even then the face in its entire repose wears the - same sweet expression of childlike confidence and peace. - - "I dined with Mrs. Robert Bruce one day, meeting Miss Monk and - Cavendish Taylor, and went with them afterwards to see the 'Grande - Duchesse de Gerolstein' acted. It was in a booth in the Piazza - Navona, such as is generally used for wild beasts at a fair, and - where one would expect an audience of the very lowest of the - people; but instead the place was crowded with the most _élite_ of - the Roman princes and their families. The acting was wonderful, and - the dresses and scenery very beautiful. It is said that the actors - are a single family, fourteen sons, three daughters, and their - cook! - - "At the Shakspeare Woods' I met Miss Charlotte Cushman, the great - American tragic actress, who has been living here for some years. - She was the Mrs. Siddons of her time in America, and places were - taken weeks beforehand for the nights when she acted. She does a - great deal of good here and is intensely beloved. In appearance she - is much like Miss Boyle,[365] with white hair rolled back, and is - of most winning and gracious manners. I went to a party at her - house last night, and never saw anything more dignified and - graceful than her reception of her guests, or more charming than - her entertainment of them. She sang, but as she has little voice - left, it was rather dramatic representation than song, though most - beautiful and pathetic. - - "The American Consul, Mr. Cushman, told me he had crossed the - Atlantic forty-seven times. The last time he returned was during - the cholera at Albano, and he described its horrors. A hundred and - fifty people died in the village on the first day, and were all - thrown immediately into a large pit by a regiment of Zouaves, - happily quartered there, and were tumbled in just as they happened - to fall. The next day, so many more died, that soldiers were sent - down into the pit to pack the bodies closer, so as to fit more in. - The bodies already in the pit were so entangled, that several arms - and legs were pulled off in the process. The Zouaves employed in - the work all died." - -I often saw Miss Cushman afterwards, and greatly valued her friendship. -Hers was a noble and almost unique character, a benignant influence upon -all she came in contact with. Her youth had been a long struggle, but it -gave her a wonderful sympathy with young artists striving as she herself -had done, and for them her purse, her hand, and her heart were always -open. When she was only a "stock actress," the wife of the manager, who -played herself and was jealous of her talents, got her husband to give -her a very inferior part: it was that of Nancy Sykes in "Oliver Twist." -Miss Cushman saw through the motive, and determined to prepare herself -thoroughly. She disappeared. She went down to the worst part of the -town, and remained for four days amongst all the lowest women there, -till she understood them thoroughly and could imitate their -peculiarities to perfection. Her first appearance, when she strolled on -to the stage chewing a sprig of a tree, as they all do, took the house -by storm, and from that time it was at her feet. The play of "Guy -Mannering" was written to suit her in the part of Meg Merrilies. She -would take an hour and a half to get herself up for it, painting all the -veins on her arms, &c., and her success was wonderful. - -She had been originally intended for an opera-singer, but, just when she -was to appear, she had a dangerous illness, and, when she recovered, her -voice was gone. But she wasted no time in regrets: she immediately -turned to being an actress. This power of making the best of whatever -_was_, formed one of the grandest traits of her character. - -She died of what, to many, is the most terrible of all diseases. She -insisted on an operation; but when she went to have it repeated, the -great surgeons told her it was no use, and advised her to devote her -remaining life to whatever would most take her out of herself and make -her forget her pain. Then she, who had left the stage so long, went back -to it as Meg Merrilies again and had all her old triumphs. And the last -time she appeared, when she, as it were, took leave of the stage for -ever, she repeated the words "I shall haunt this old glen," &c., in a -way which sent a cold shiver down the backs of all who heard them. - -Miss Stebbings' interesting Life of Miss Cushman is inadequate. It -dwells too much on the successful part. What were really interesting, -and also useful to those beginning life, would have been the true story -of the struggles of her youth, and how her noble nature overcame them. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Feb. 10._--My dearest Mother is better and up again, sweet and - smiling. Last week, after poor Mrs. C. had died, Mrs. Ramsay, not - knowing it, sent to inquire after her. 'E andata in Paradiso,' said - her old servant Francesco, quite simply, when he came back." - - - "_Feb. 25._--On the 16th old Don Francesco Chigi died, a most - well-known figure to be missed out of Roman life. He was buried - with perfectly mediæval pomp the next day at the Popolo. The - procession down the Corso from the Chigi Palace was most gorgeous, - the long line of princely carriages and the running footmen with - their huge torches and splendid liveries, the effect enhanced by - the darkness of the night, for it was at nine o'clock in the - evening. - - "Yesterday I rushed with all the world to St. Peter's to stare at - the bridal of Donna Guendalina Doria, who had just been married at - S. Agnese to the Milanese Conte della Somaglia. The Pope gave her - his benediction and a prayer-book bound in solid gold and diamonds. - Thirteen carriages full of relations escorted her to St. Peter's, - but very few had courage to come with her into the church. She - looked well in a long lace veil and white silk cloak striped with - gold. - - "My sweet Mother has gained very little ground the last fortnight. - Yesterday for the first time she went out--carried down and - upstairs by Benedetto and Louisa, and drove with Charlotte to the - Villa Doria. But in the evening her breathing was difficult. To-day - I drove with Lady Bloomfield[366] and Jane Adeane to the Campagna, - and when I came back I found that she had been quite ill the whole - time. The dear face looks sadly worn." - - - "_Feb. 27._--When I went into my darling's room at 3 A.M., both she - and Lea were sleeping quietly, but when I went again at six, the - Mother had been long awake, and oppressed with great difficulty of - breathing. At half-past nine Dr. Grilli came and begged for another - opinion.... How did I bear it when he said that my darling was in - the greatest danger, that if she would desire any spiritual - consolations, they ought to be sent for! Then I lost all hope. - 'No,' I said, 'she has long lived more in heaven than on earth.' - 'Quello se vede,' said Dr. Grilli. - - "I questioned whether she should be told the danger she was in, but - I decided not; for has not my darling been for years standing on - the threshold of the heavenly kingdom? Death could to _her_ only be - the passing quite over that threshold, and to us the last glimpse - of her most sweet presence here. - - "2 P.M.--Charlotte Leycester and Emma Simpkinson have been with me - in the room all morning by turns. I cannot but think her slightly - better. The shutter has just been opened that she may see the sun, - which poured into the room. My darling was sitting up then and - smiled to see it. - - "5-1/2 P.M.--Waiting for the consultation of doctors. How I dread - it, yet I cannot but think they will find my darling better. I have - a feeling that there must still be hope. At two I went in a - carriage to the Villa Negroni,[367] as the most solitary place I - knew, and there spent an hour on that terraced walk beneath the - house in which I was born, where my two mothers walked up and down - together before my birth, and where I have often been, oh! so happy - in the sunshine of her presence who is life to me. - - "Coming back, I went into the Church of the Angeli. A white - Carthusian was kneeling there alone. I knelt too and prayed--not - that God would give my darling back to me unless it were His will, - but oh! so earnestly that there might be no pain in her departure. - - "Mrs. Woodward and Miss Finucane want to come and sit up--always - good and kind. Grilli has been this evening with Dr. Bertoldi, and - says everything depends on how she passes the next night: if she - sleeps and the breathing becomes easier, we may hope, but even then - it will be most difficult to regain the ground lost. In this I buoy - myself up that _they_ know nothing of her wonderful power of - rallying. - - "When Charlotte went away for the night, she said, 'I shall think - of you, dear, and pray for you very much to-night.'--'Yes, into - the Lord's hands I commend my spirit,' said my darling solemnly. - - - "_9 A.M. Feb. 28, Friday._--Last night, when I wished her - good-night, she said in her sweetest manner, 'Don't be too anxious; - it is all in His hands.' Lea went to bed and Emma Simpkinson sat - upon the sofa. I went in and out all through the night. Since 4 - A.M. she has been less well! - - - "6 P.M.--I went rapidly to-day in a little carriage to St. Peter's, - and kneeling at the grating of the chapel of the Sacrament by - Sixtus IV.'s tomb, I _implored_ God to take two years out of my - life and to add them to my Mother's. I could not part with her now. - If there is power in prayer, I _must_ have been heard. I was back - within the hour. - - "When Charlotte came, she repeated to the Mother the texts about - the saints in white robes, and then said 'Perhaps, dear, you will - be with them soon--perhaps it is as in our favourite hymn, "Just - passing over the brink."'--'Yes,' said my darling, 'it cannot last - long; this is quite wearing me out.' I heard this through the door, - for I could not bear to be in the room. Then Charlotte said, 'The - Lord be with you,' or similar words, and my darling answered 'Yes, - and may He be with those who are left as well as with those who are - taken.' At this moment I came in and kissed my darling. Charlotte, - not knowing I had heard, then repeated what she had said. 'She is - praying that God may be with you and with me,' she said. I could - not bear it, and went back to the next room. Charlotte came in and - kissed me. 'I cannot say what I feel for you,' she said. I begged - her not to say so now, 'as long as there was anything to be done I - must not give way.'" - - - "_3 P.M. Saturday._--The night was one of terrible suffering. Mrs. - Woodward sat up, but I could not leave the room. In the morning my - darling said, 'I never thought it would have been like this; I - thought it would have been unconscious. The valley of the Shadow of - Death is a dark valley, but there is light at the end.... No more - pain.... The Rock of Ages, that is my rock.' Then I read the three - prayers in the Visitation Service. 'It will be over soon,' she - said; 'I am going to rest.' - - "'Will you give me some little word of blessing, darling?' I said. - 'The Lord keep you and comfort you, my dear child,' she said. - 'Don't fret too much. _He_ will give you comfort.' I had begged - that Mrs. Woodward would call in Lea, who was now kneeling between - us at the bedside. 'And you bless poor Lea too,' I said. 'Yes, dear - Lea; she has been a most good and faithful and dear servant to me. - I pray that God may be with her and John, and keep them, and I hope - that they will be faithful and loving to you, as they have been to - me, as long as you need them.... Be reconciled to all who have been - unkind to you, darling; love them all, this is my great wish, - love--love--love--oh, I have tried to live for love--oh! love one - another, that is the great thing--love, love, love!' - - "'The Lord bless and comfort you, dear,' she said to Charlotte. 'Be - a mother to my child.'--'I will,' said Charlotte, and then my - darling's hand took mine and held it. - - "'We look for the salvation of the Lord Jesus Christ,' said - Charlotte. 'Yes, and it was here that it first dawned upon me ... - through much tribulation.... He will be with me, and He will be - with those who are left.' - - "'We look for the King in His beauty,' said Charlotte. 'Yes, beauty - such as we have never seen,' my darling said. 'Eye hath not seen - nor ear heard the things which God hath prepared for them that love - Him. Oh, I have been able to serve Him very little.'--'Yes, - darling, but you have loved Him much.' - - "'I send my love to all my dear ones in England; none are - forgotten, none.' Then, after a pause, 'Tell your sister that we - shall meet where there is no more controversy, and where we shall - know thoroughly as we are known.' - - "In the night the terrible pain came on, which lasted many hours - and gave us all such anguish. 'And He bore all this,' she said, and - at one of her worst moments--'He that trusteth in Thee shall never - be put to confusion.' What these trembling words were to us I - cannot say, with her great suffering and the sadly sunken look of - her revered features. Mrs. Woodward cried bitterly. - - "'Mine eyes look to the hills, from whence cometh my help,' said - Charlotte when she came in. 'You have loved the Psalms so much, - haven't you, dear?'--'Yes, the Psalms so much.'--'All Thy waves and - storms pass over me,' said Charlotte, 'but the Rock resisteth the - flood.'--'Yes, the _Rock_,' said my darling. 'The floods lift up - their waves, but the Lord is mightier.'--'He is mightier,' she - repeated. 'The Lord is a refuge and a strong tower,' said - Charlotte. 'He is _indeed_,' she answered with emphasis; 'it is a - dark valley, but there is light beyond, for He is the strength of - my heart and my portion for ever.' - - "She bade me in the early morning not to leave her, and I sat by - her without moving from 6 A.M. till 1 P.M. 'Oh, you will all be - _so_ tired,' she said once. When she was very ill, Charlotte leant - over her and said, 'I am oppressed, O Lord, undertake for me: may - the everlasting arms be beneath you.'--'Yes,' she said." - - - "_March 1, Sunday morning._--How long it is! At 6 P.M. she was very - restless and suffering. At last she gave me her hand and lay down - with me supporting the pillows behind. She spoke quite clearly, and - said, 'My blessing and darling, may you be blessed in time and - eternity!' This quiet sleep seemed to soothe and rest her, and - afterwards Lea was able to take my place for an hour. But the night - was terrible. Mrs. Woodward and Miss Finucane both sat up with me. - Once she said, 'Through the grave and the gate of death ... a - glorious resurrection.' At seven, she was speaking again, and - leaning over her I heard, 'How long, how long? when will the - Bridegroom come?'" - - - "_4 P.M. Monday, March 2._--A rather less suffering night. Dear - Miss Garden sat up with me, saying she felt as if it was her own - mother who was lying there, and Mother rambled gently to her about - 'going home.' At 7 A.M. she fell asleep sweetly with her hand - clasped in both of mine. I did not venture to move, and sank from - my knees into a sitting position on the floor; so we remained for - nearly an hour. When she waked, her moan was more definite. 'Oh, - for rest! oh, for rest!' I said, 'Darling, rest is coming - soon.'--'Yes,' she said, 'my health will all come back to me soon; - no infirmities and no pains any more." - - "10 A.M.--When Charlotte went at nine, I thought my darling sinking - more rapidly, and Dr. Grilli when he came told us it was all but - impossible she could rally. She looks to me at moments quite - passing away. I would not call my darling back for worlds now: if - God took her, I could only be lost in thankfulness that her pains - were over. Oh, that she may be soon in that perfect health which we - shall not be permitted to see. I scarcely leave her a moment now, - though it is agony to me if she coughs or suffers. Can I afford to - lose one look from those beloved eyes, one passing expression of - those revered features? So I sit beside her through the long hours, - now moistening her lips, now giving her water from a spoon, now and - then a little soup-jelly, which she finds it easier to swallow than - the soup itself, and now and then my darling gently gives me her - hand to hold in mine. 'Rest in bliss,' she said to Mrs. Woodward, - 'rest ever in bliss.' Afterwards Charlotte said, 'When thou passest - through the waters, they shall not overflow thee: underneath thee - are ... the everlasting arms." - - "12-1/2 P.M.--Charlotte has repeated sentences from the Litany--'By - Thine agony and bloody sweat.' We thought she scarcely understood - at first, then her lips, almost inaudibly, repeated the sentences. - Soon she said, 'It is _so_ long coming!' Then Charlotte read, - 'Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord, for they _rest_ from - their labours.' She opened her eyes, looked up at Charlotte, and - said, 'Oh, how well I know you!' - - "1 P.M.--After some minutes' quiet she opened her eyes with - surprise and said, 'I thought I was safe home; I thought I was, yet - I can move, so I suppose it will not be yet.' - - "2 P.M.--Her face has lost all its troubled look, and though she - still moans, there is a happy appearance of repose stealing over - her features. - - "3 P.M.--When C. L. came in she said, 'Oh, Charlotte, I thought it - was all over. I did not hear the noise of the waves any more. Oh, - they were so very tormenting, and then, when I did not hear them, I - thought it was over, and then I heard your voice, and I knew I was - still here.... I have no more pain now.... It was very long, but I - suppose He thought He would knock out all that was bad in me.' - - "_Midnight, Monday._--After a terrible afternoon, she had such an - extraordinary rally in the evening that we all began to hope. But - soon after there was another change. Her features altered, her face - sunk, but her expression was of the most transcendent happiness. - Thinking the last moment was come, we knelt around the bed, I alone - on the right; Charlotte, Lea, and Mrs. Woodward on the left; the - nurse, Angela Mayer, at the foot. Charlotte and Mrs. W. prayed - aloud. Then my darling, in broken accents, difficult to understand, - but which I, leaning over her, repeated to the others, began to - speak--'I am going to glory ... I have no pain now ... I see the - light ... Oh, I am _so_ happy ... no more trouble or sorrow or sin - ... so extremely happy ... may you all meet me there, not one of - you be wanting.' - - "I, leaning over her, said, 'Do you know me still, darling?'--'Yes, - I know and bless you, my dearest son ... peace and love ... glory - everlasting ... all sins and infirmities purged away ... rest ... - love ... glory ... reign for ever ... _see Christ_. - - "'Oh, be ready! - - "'Mary and Arthur and Kate and Emmie and Mamie, faithful servants - of Christ, to meet me there in His kingdom. - - "'Let peace and love remain with you always. This is my great wish, - peace and love ... peace and love.' - - "After saying this, my mother solemnly folded her trembling hands - together on her breast, and looking up to heaven, said, 'Oh, Lord - Jesus, come quickly, and may all these meet me again in Thy - kingdom!' As she said this, my darling's eyes seemed fixed upon - another world. - - "After this I begged the others to leave me alone with her, and - then my dearest one said to me, 'Yes, darling, our love for one - another on earth is coming to an end now. We have loved one another - very deeply. I don't know how far communion will be still possible, - but I soon _shall_ know; and if it be possible, I shall still be - always near you. I shall so love to see and know all you are doing, - and to watch over you; and when you hear a little breeze go - rustling by, you must think it is the old Mother still near you.... - You will do all I wish, darling, I know. I need not write, you - will carry out all my wishes.'--'Yes, dearie,' I said, 'it will be - my only comfort when you are gone to do all you would have wished. - I will always stay at Holmhurst, darling, and I will continue going - to Alton, and I will do everything else I can think of that you - would like.' - - "'Yes, and you must try to conquer self ... to serve God here, and - then we may be together again in heaven.... Oh, we _must_ be - together again there.' - - "Lea now came in, and my darling stroked her face while she sobbed - convulsively. 'Your long work is done at last,' Mother said; 'I - have been a great trouble to you both, and perhaps it is as well I - should be taken away now, for I am quite worn out. Tell John and - all of them that I am sorry to leave them, but perhaps it was for - the best; for this is not an illness; it is that I am worn out.... - You and Augustus will stay together and comfort one another when I - am gone, and you will bear with one another's infirmities and help - one another. The great thing of all is to be able to confess that - one has been in the wrong. Oh, peace and love, peace and love, - these are the great things.' - - "'Have I been a good child to you, dearest?' I said. 'Oh, yes, - indeed--dear and good, dear and good; a little wilful perhaps you - used to be, but not lately; you have been all good to me - lately--dear and good.'--('Yes, that he has,' said Lea.)--'Faithful - and good,' my darling repeated, 'both of you faithful and good.' - - "Charlotte now came in. 'Here is Charlotte.'--'Dear Charlotte! Oh - yes, I know you. I do not know whether there will be any - communication where I am going, but if there is, I shall be very - near you. I am going to rest ... rest everlasting. Be a mother to - my child. Comfort him when I am gone ... give him good advice.... - You know what suggestions I should make.... You will say to him - what I should say ... and if he could have a good wife, that would - be the best thing ... for what would you do, my child, in this - lonely world?... No, a good wife, that is what I wish for you--a - good wife and a family home. - - "'And now I should like to speak to kind Mrs. Woodward' (she came - in). 'Thank you so much; you have been very good and kind to me, - dear Mrs. Woodward. I am going fast to my heavenly home. I have - said all I meant to have written all the time I have been ill, and - have never been able ... my mouth has been opened that I might - speak.'" - - - "7 A.M. _March 3._--'Oh, it is quite beautiful. Good-bye, my own - dearest! I cannot believe that you will look up into the clouds and - think that I am only there ... but you will also see me in the - flowers and in my friends, and in all that I have loved.' - - "8 A.M.--With the morning light my dearest Mother has seemed to - become more rapt in holy thoughts and visions, her eyes more - intently fixed on the unseen world. At last, with a look of rapture - she has exclaimed, 'Oh, angels, I see angels!' and since then pain - seems to have left her. - - "8-1/2 A.M.--(To Lea.) 'You will take care of him and comfort him, - as you have always taken care of me: you have been a dear servant - to me.'--'Yes,' said Lea, 'I will always stay with him and take - care of him as long as I live. I took care of your dear husband, - and I have taken care of you, and I will take care of him as long - as he wants me.' 'Darling sweet,' I said to her. 'Yes, darling - sweet,' she repeated, with inexpressible tenderness. 'I always hear - the tender words you say to me, dear, even in my dreams.' Then she - said also to Mrs. Woodward, 'You have been very kind to us; you - will comfort Augustus when he is left desolate: you know what - sorrow is, you have gone through the valley.... It seems so much - worse for others than for me.... For then I shall begin really to - live.' - - "All this time my darling lay with her eyes upturned and an - expression of rapt beatitude. The nurse says that in her forty - years' nursing she never saw any one like this, so quiet, so happy. - 'Nothing ever puts her out or makes her complain: I never saw - anything like it.'[368] - - "8-1/2 A.M.--'It is very difficult to _realise_ that when you are - absent from the body you are present with the Lord.' - - "10 A.M.--Dr. Grilli says she may live till evening, even possibly - into the night. She has just said, a little wandering, 'You know in - a few days some pretty sweet violets will come up, and that will be - all that will be left to you of the dear Mother.' - - "11-1/2 A.M.--She has taken leave of Emma Simpkinson and Miss - Garden. When I came in she took my hand and said, 'And you, - darling, I shall always think of you, and you will think of me. I - shall spring up again like the little violets, and I shall put on - an incorruptible body. I shall be always floating over you and - watching over you somehow: we shall never be separated; and my body - will rest beside that of my dear husband. So strange it should be - here; perhaps, if it had been anywhere else, I might have wished to - get better, but as it was here, the temptation was too great. I am - quite worn out. I thought I could not get better after my last - illness, and I _was_ given back to you for a little while, though I - have always felt very weak, but I shall be quite well now.' - - - "10 A.M. _March 4._--All night she wandered gently, saying that she - would 'go out and play with the little children; for there can be - nothing bad amongst very little children.' In the morning Charlotte - still thought there was a chance of her rallying, but Emma - Simpkinson and I both think her sinking, and Dr. Grilli says that - 'sussulti tendinósi' of the pulses have come on, and that there is - not the slightest hope. It can probably only be two hours, though - it may last till evening. He has formally taken leave, saying that - medicine is useless, and that it is no use for him to return any - more. Since the early morning my darling has been lying with her - hand in mine, leaning her head against mine on the pillow, her eyes - turned upwards, her lips constantly moving in inarticulate prayer. - She has asked, 'What day is it? I think it is my birthday to-day.' - I have not told her it is her father's birthday, as I believe it - will be her own birthday in heaven. - - "11 A.M.--She has again appeared to be at the last extremity. - Raising her eyes to heaven and taking my hand, she has prayed - fervently but inaudibly. Then she prayed audibly for blessings for - me and Lea, and, with a grateful look to Emma, added, 'And for dear - Emma too.' - - "1 P.M.--She wandered a little, and asked if the battle was over. - 'Yes,' said Lea, 'and the victory won.' - - "1-1/2 P.M.--'I am all straight now, no more crookedness.... You - must do something, dear, to build yourself up; you must be a good - deal pulled down by all this.... Rest now, but work, work for God - in life. - - "'Don't expect too much good upon earth. - - "'Don't expect too much perfection in one another. - - "'Work for eternity. - - "'Only try for love. - - "2 P.M.--'Oh, how happy I am! I have everything I want here and - hereafter.' - - "2.10.--(With eyes uplifted and hands clasped.) ... 'Living water. - The Lamb, the Lamb is the life.' - - "2.15.--C. L. repeated at her request 'Abide with me, fast falls - the eventide.' - - "2.30.--The dear Mother herself, with her changed voice, clasped - hands, and uplifted eyes, has repeated the hymn 'Just as I am, - without one plea.' - - "3 P.M.--'I am glad I am not going to stay. I could not do you any - more good, and I am _so_ happy.' - - "4 P.M.--(With intense fervour.) 'O God, O God! God alone can - save--one and eternal. Amen! Amen!' - - "4.15.--'Let us be one in heaven, dear, as we are one on earth.' - - "4.30.--'Oh, let me go.... I have said I was ready to go so often, - but you won't give me up.' I said, 'I think you had better try to - sleep a little now, darling.'--'Yes, but let it be the last: I have - had so many, many last sleeps.'--'You are in no pain now, dearie?' - I said. 'Oh no, no pain; there is no pain on the borderland of - heaven. - - "'May He who ruleth all, both in heaven and earth, bless you, my - child--bless you and keep you from ill. Love, love, perfect love, - love on earth and then love in heaven.... I can hear words from the - upper world now and none from the nearer. They have taught me - things that were dark to me before.' - - "5 P.M.--'Peace be with you, peace and love. - - "'Sin below, grace above. - - "'We sinners below, Christ above. - - "'All love, all truth in Jesus Christ, my Lord and my God.' - - "5-1/2 P.M.--'Oh, let it be. It could not be better--no doubt, no - difficulty.... All the good things of this world, what are they?... - soon pass away--pride, vanity, vexation of spirit; but oh! love! - love!' It was after saying these words that my darling's face - became quite radiant, and that she looked upward with an expression - of rapture. 'I see a white dove,' she said, 'oh, such a beautiful - white dove, floating towards me.' Soon after this she exclaimed, - 'Oh, Lord Jesus, oh, come quickly'.... When she opened her eyes, - 'What a wilful child you are! you will not let your mother depart, - and she is _so_ ready.'--'Is it he who keeps you?' said C. L. 'No, - a better One; but let me go or let me stay, O Lord, I have no will - but Thine.'"[369] - - - "2 A.M. _March 5._--During the night she has prayed constantly - aloud for various relations and friends by name, and often for me. - Once she said, 'Ever upright, ever just, sometimes irritable, weak - in temperament, that others should love him as I have done ... and - a good wife, that is what I have always thought.' - - "8 P.M. _March 5._--Twice to-day there has been a sudden sinking of - nature, life almost extinct, and then, owing to the return of - fever, there has been a rally. She became excited if I left her - even for a moment, so through last night and to-day I have - constantly sat behind her on the bed, supporting her head on a - pillow in my arms. - - "10 P.M.--Emma Simpkinson is come for the night, but there is a - strange change. My mother is asleep! quietly asleep--the fever is - reduced after the aconite which I insisted upon, and which the - homœopathic doctor said _must_ end her life in half-an-hour. - - "_Friday evening, March 6._--All day there has been a rally, and - she has now power to cough again. Grilli had given the case up, so - at noon to-day I had no scruple in sending for Dr. Topham, writing - full explanation of the strange case. He says it is the most - extraordinary he has ever seen and a most interesting - study--'Before such a miracle of nature, science can only sit - still.' Life still hangs on a thread, but there is certainly an - improvement. She knows none but me." - - - "_Saturday evening, March 7._--What a quiet day of respite we have - had after all the long tension and anxiety. My darling's face has - resumed a natural expression, and she now lies quite quiet, - sleeping, and only rousing herself to take nourishment." - -I have copied these fragments from my journal of two terrible weeks, -written upon my knees by my mother's side, when we felt every hour -_must_ be the last, and that her words, so difficult to recall -afterwards, would be almost our only consolation when the great -desolation had really fallen. But no description can give an idea of the -illness--of the strange luminousness of the sunken features, such as one -reads of in lives of Catholic saints--of the marvellous beauty of her -expression--of the thrilling accents in which many words were spoken, -from which her sensitive retiring nature would have shrunk in health. -Had there been physically any reason for hopefulness, which there was -not--had the doctors given any hope of recovery, which they did not, her -appearance, her words, her almost transfiguration would have assured us -that she was on the threshold of another world. I feel that those who -read must--like those who saw--almost experience a sort of shock at her -being given back to us again. Yet I believe that God heard my prayer in -St. Peter's for the two years more. During that time, and that time -only, she was spared to bless us, and to prepare me better for the final -separation when it really came. She was also spared to be my support in -another great trial of my life, to which we then never looked forward. -But I will return to my journal, with which ordinary events now again -entwine themselves. - - "_March 10, 1868._--My darling is gradually but slowly regaining - strength, the doctor saying he can give no medicine, but that he - can only stand still in awe before the marvels of nature, whilst - we, the watchers, are gradually rallying from the great strain and - tension of the last week. - - "Yesterday was Santa Francesca Romana's day. I went to her house, - the old Ponziani Palace, now the Ezercizii Pii, hung outside for - the day with battered tapestry and strewn within with box. The - rooms inside are the same as when the Saint lived in them, with - raftered ceilings, and many of them turned into chapels. Downstairs - is the large room which she turned into a hospital, and there is a - bright open courtyard planted with orange-trees, though certainly - nothing of the 'magnificent Ponziani Palace' described by Lady - Georgiana Fullerton in her book. - - "Thence to the Tor de' Specchi, where a cardinal, a number of Roman - ladies, and a crowd of others were passing through the bright old - rooms covered with frescoes and tapestry, and looking into the - pleasant courtyards of the convent with their fountains and - orange-trees. Upstairs is a fine chapel, where the skeleton of the - Saint lies under the altar, dressed as an Oblate (with the face - exposed), but in a white veil and white gloves! The living Oblates - flitting about were very interesting picturesque-looking women, - mostly rather old. Several relics of Santa Francesca are preserved. - On a table near the entrance was the large flat vase in which she - made ointment for the poor, filled with flowers. - - "On Sunday, when many ladies went to the Pope, he made them a - little sermon about their guardian angels and Sta. Francesca - Romana." - - - "_March 15._--My sweet Mother is in almost exactly the same - state--a sort of dormouse existence, and so weak that she can - scarcely hold up her head; yet she has been twice wheeled into the - sitting-room. - - "I have been with the Fitzmaurices to the Castle of S. Angelo, very - curious, and the prisons of Beatrice Cenci and her stepmother, most - ghastly and horrid. There are between seven and eight hundred men - there now, and many prisoners. Over the prison doors passers-by had - made notes in chalk: one was 'O voi che entrate qui, lasciate ogni - speranza;' another, 'On sait quand on entre, on ne sait pas quand - on sort;' another, 'Hôtel des Martyrs.' - -[Illustration: CASTLE OF ESTE.[370]] - - "On Friday evening I rushed with all the world to the receptions of - the new cardinals--first to the Spanish Embassy, then to the - Colonna to see Cardinal Bonaparte,[371] who has a most humble - manner and a beautiful refined face like Manning at his best; and - then to the Inquisition, where Cardinal de Monaco was waiting to - receive in rooms which were almost empty." - - - "_March 30._--The dear Mother makes daily progress. She has the - sofa in her bedroom, and lies there a great deal in the sunny - window. - - "I went to Mrs. Lockwood's theatricals, to which, as she said, 'all - the people above the rank of a duchess were asked down to the - letter M.' The play, _L'Aïeule_, was wonderfully well done by - Princess Radziwill, Princess Pallavicini, Princess Scilla, Duca del - Gallo, and others, a most beautiful electric light being let in - when the grandmother steals in to give the poison to the sleeping - girl." - - - "_May 8._--We leave Rome to-morrow--leave it in a flush of summer - glory, in a wealth unspeakable of foliage and flowers, orange - blossoms scenting our staircase, the sky deep blue. - - "All the last fortnight poor Emma Simpkinson[372] has been terribly - ill--a great anxiety to us as to what was best to be done for her, - but we hope now that she may be moved to England, and I must go - with my restored Mother, who is expanding like a flower in the - sunshine. - - "This afternoon, at the crowded time, the young Countess Crivelli, - the new Austrian Ambassadress, drove down the Corso. At the Porta - del Popolo she met her husband's horse without a rider. Much - alarmed, she drove on, and a little farther on she found her - husband's dead body lying in the road. She picked it up, and drove - back down the Corso with the dead man by her side." - -Amongst the many English who spent this spring in Rome, I do not find -any note, in my diaries, of Lord Houghton, yet his dinners for six in -the Via S. Basilio were delightful. His children were real children -then, and his son, Robin,[373] a boy of wonderful promise. Lord Houghton -was never satisfied with talking well and delightfully himself; his -great charm was his evident desire to draw out all the good there was in -other people. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Venice, May 10, 1868._--We had a terribly hot journey by Spoleto - and Ancona, and came on to Este. It is a long drive up from the - station to the primitive little town close under the Euganean - Hills, with the ruined castle where the first Guelph was born. The - inn (La Speranza) is an old palace, and our sittingroom was - thirty-four feet long. The country is luxuriance itself, covered - with corn and flax, separated by rows of peach and fig trees, with - vines leaping from tree to tree. I drove to Arqua, a most - picturesque village in a hollow of the hills. In the little court - of the church is Petrarch's tomb, of red Verona marble, and on the - high ridge his house, almost unaltered, with old frescoes of his - life, his chair, his chest, and his stuffed cat, shrunk almost to a - weasel." - - - "_Augsburg, May 24._--From Venice we saw Torcello--the Mother, Lea, - and I in a _barca_ gliding over those shallow mysterious waters to - the distant island and its decaying church, where we sat to draw - near Attila's marble chair half buried in the rank growth of the - mallows. - -[Illustration: PETRARCH'S TOMB, ARQUA.[374]] - - "We came away by an early train to Verona, and drove in the - afternoon to San Zenone, and then to the beautiful Giusti gardens - for the sunset. Mother was able to climb up to the summer-house on - the height, and the gardener gave us pinks and roses. - - "On the 24th we came on to Trent, a most attractive place, with an - interesting cathedral, fine fountains, beautiful trees, and - surroundings of jagged pink mountains tipped with snow. Cheating - the Alps by crossing the Brenner, we went by Salzburg to - Berchtesgaden, where we found quiet rooms with a splendid view of - the snow-clad Watzmann. We were rowed down the Königsee as far as - the waterfall, Lea dreadfully frightened on the lake." - -[Illustration: TOMB OF THE COUNT OF CASTELBARCO, VERONA.[375]] - -From Augsburg we went to Oberwesel on the Rhine, where we were very -happy in a primitive hotel amid the vines and old timberhouses. On our -second morning there, while I was drawing on the shore of the river, a -strange and terrible presentiment came over me of some great misfortune, -some overwhelming grief which was then taking place in England. I threw -down my drawing things and hurried back to the hotel to my mother. -"Never," I said, "have these sudden presentiments come to me without -meaning. I am sure you will listen to me when I say that we ought to be -in England directly."--"Yes," she said, "I quite believe it; let us go -at once;" and then and there, in the hot morning, we walked down to the -train. We travelled all night, and at daybreak we were in England. I -confess that, as we travelled, the detailed impression which I had from -my presentiment was wrong. I thought of what would have affected my -mother most. I fancied that, as I was sitting on the Rhine shore, Arthur -Stanley had died at Westminster. But John Gidman met us with our little -carriage at Hastings, and as we drove up to Holmhurst he told me the -dreadful truth--that, at the very moment of my presentiment, my sister -Esmeralda had expired. - -I still feel the echo of that terrible anguish. - - - - -XIII - -LAST YEARS OF ESMERALDA - - - "Sleep sweetly, dear one; thou wilt wake at dawn."--MOSCHUS. - - "Her mind was one of those pure mirrors from which the polluting - breath passes away as it touches it."--BISHOP HEBER. - - "Cette longue et cruelle maladie qu'on appelle la vie, est enfin - guérie."--MADEMOISELLE D'ESPINASSE. - - "Let her pure soul ... - Remain my pledge in heaven, as sent to show - How to this portal every step I go."--SIR JOHN BEAUMONT. - - - - -I think that I have not written anything concerning the life of my -sister after we met her at Rome in the winter of 1865-66. Since that -time she had been more incessantly engrossed by the affairs, and often -very trivial interests, of the Roman Catholic Church, but without for a -moment relaxing her affection and cordiality towards us. Great was my -pleasure in watching how, in spite of all religious differences, my -mother became increasingly fond of her every time they met. I think it -is William Penn who says, "The meek, the just, the pious, the devout, -are all of one religion." - -On leaving Rome in 1866, Esmeralda made it an object to visit the famous -"Nun of Monza," Ancilla Ghizza, called in religion the "Madre Serafina -della Croce." This nun had been founding a religious order at Monza, -which was at first intended to be affiliated to the Sacramentarie on the -Quirinal at Rome. She was supposed to have not only the "stigmata," but -the marks of our Lord's scourging, to be gifted with a wonderful power -and knowledge of the interior life, and to possess the gift of prophecy. -She was summoned to Rome, and, after three years' noviciate at the -Sacramentarie, she was permitted, in 1862, to return to Monza, and to -begin her community, fifteen nuns being clothed at the same time. She -used to distribute little crosses which she declared to have been -blessed by our Lord in person, and she was often in an ecstasy, in which -it was alleged that her body became so light that she could be raised -from the ground by a single hair of her head! Concerning Serafina della -Croce, Esmeralda had already received from a celebrated Italian -ecclesiastic the following:-- - - "_Venezia, 3 Gennaio, 1864._--Mi scusi se io così presto riprendo - la penna, per offrirle il mio povero tentativo di consolarla, sotto - la forma di questa piccola croce, che io ebbi dall' Ancilla Ghizzi - di Monza, e che è stata benedetta dalle mani stesse di Nostro - Signore in una visione. Io potrei dirle molto di queste croci, ma - ci vorrebbe troppo tempo. Così io le dirò soltanto per affermare la - sua opinione sopra la santità di questa serva di Dio, che io - conosco qui un sacerdote che andò a vederla, e al quale il - confessore dell' Ancilla delegò la sua autorità, dicendogli che - poteva commandarla ed interrogarla per un' ora, come se fosse lui - stesso il suo confessore. Infatti, portatosi dall' Ancilla, senza - che essa fosse stata avvertita di quest' accordo fra loro, il - Sacerdote le diède mentalmente l'obbedienza di unirsi con Dio in - orazione, ed essa immediatamente andò in estasi, e continuò un' ora - intera in questo stato, nel qual tempo egli le domandò - _mentalmente_ varie cose in rapporto a certe persone che - desiderebbero essere raccomandate alle sue preghiere, ed essa - rispondeva al suo precetto mentale, raccomandogli ogni persona ed - ogni domanda al Signore di _viva voce_, continuando così un dialogo - non interrotto. Qualche volta per la soddisfazione di una terza - persona che era presente, questo Sacerdote gli diceva all' orecchio - il soggetto sopra il quale voleva schiarimento. Debbo aggiungere - che in questo stato il suo corpo è così leggiero che la poteva - sollevare da terra _per un solo dei suoi capelli_, come se non - avesse più nessun peso. Ho pure veduto dei manoscritti voluminosi - del suo confessore pieni di maraviglie, e che dimostrano che la sua - familiarità colle cose e colle persone celesti è arrivata ad un - tal punto, che si può ben paragonare a tutto ciò che si legge nelle - vite dei santi. Anzi a me mi pare che supera tutto quel che io ho - letto fin qui." - -Another intention of Esmeralda was to visit "Torchio," the inspired -cobbler at Turin, and consult him on various subjects. This Torchio had -had the most extraordinary visions of the Judgment; but alas! I -neglected to write down the long verbal account which my sister gave me -of her visit to him, and thus it is lost. I have only the following, -written in crossing the Mont Cenis with an Asiatic bishop, to whom -Esmeralda had offered a place in her carriage:-- - - "_June 4, 1866._--For three days running before leaving Rome, I had - the visits of the venerable Monsignor Natale, and we talked of - coming events in the political world. I went over from Pisa to - Leghorn, and there I saw a very remarkable person called Suora - Carolina. We went to Milan for one day, and from thence to Monza. I - saw the bishop, and besought and entreated, and at last he gave - permission, and I was the first to pass through the closed door of - the convent, and to kneel and kiss the hand of the saint. Auntie - went with me. I can never express what I felt. It was like seeing - S. Francesco d'Assisi, and it seemed like a dream as, side by side, - we walked through the cloisters and then went up into her cell: - one so highly favoured! it was too much happiness. All I had heard - was nothing to the reality, and there was Auntie sitting in her - cell, the other nuns standing round. Her face was quite beautiful, - quite heavenly. - - "And then we returned to Milan and started for Turin, and there I - went to see Torchio, the celebrated Torchio, as he sat on his - basket and spoke as he was inspired. It was a wonderful and - beautiful sermon, both in word and action. When he spoke of the - Passion, one seemed to follow him to Calvary. He is a poor man - living at the top of a very poor house, but he is an apostle." - -Esmeralda returned to London to Mrs. Thorpe's, but in the autumn she -went north and paid visits to the Monteiths and Stourtons and to Lady -Herries in Yorkshire. Lady Herries said afterwards that she liked to -think of her as she so often saw her in the chapel at Everingham, -praying, "oh, so fervently," for hours together. As her life became more -absorbed in devotion and religious interests, she was conscious of the -danger of neglecting earthly duties and sympathies. On August 4, 1866, -she wrote:-- - - "Let me walk in the presence of God without underrating His gifts, - for the underrating of God's gifts is one of the temptations which - I am required to fight against." - -On September 8 she wrote:-- - - "Let me surrender entirely my individual will, to be completely - united and absorbed in the will of Jesus Christ,--then will the - truths of Christianity become a fixed life in my soul. - - "The great impediment to the life of Jesus in the soul is the - aiming at mediocrity in things pertaining to our Lord and to a - spiritual life; whereas our Master would have us aim at - _perfection_, and bear in mind as a command His words, 'Be ye - perfect.'" - -In August Esmeralda was thrown into real heart-mourning by the news -which reached England of the death of "the Great Mother," Maria de -Matthias. The following is from Pierina Rolleston, Superior of the Order -of the Precious Blood in England:-- - - "My own dearest in the precious blood, I write in haste, and while - I write my tears are flowing, because I have sad news to tell you - and dear Mrs. Montgomery, who are both children of the Institute, - and love our beloved Mother-General, who is in heaven, praying for - us all. The following is a copy of a letter I received yesterday - from Monsignor Talbot:--'I write to announce to you the death of - your Mother-General. She expired two days ago--died as she lived, - after giving examples of patience and resignation in the midst of - her sufferings. To-morrow her funeral will be celebrated at the - Church of SS. Vincenzo ed Anastasio, and I intend to attend. I do - not think you need fear for the future of your Institute, because - I think that the successor of your late Mother-General, though she - may not be so saintly a person, will be equally able to carry on - the business. I do not think you can be too grateful to Almighty - God for having such friends as Monsignor Paterson and Miss Hare.' - ... My dearest, I write in haste that you may receive all the news - of our beloved Mother. Sister Carolina Longo, whom she named as her - successor upon her death-bed, is a good clever nun, and she was - Mother's dear child. She lived with Mother from a child of eight - years old, and became a religious about the age of twenty-two. We - have lost one of the dearest of mothers, but can look up to her in - heaven, and I am sure she will help us in our work.... With fond - love in the precious blood, I am always your most affectionate in - Christ, - - "PIERINA OF THE PRECIOUS BLOOD." - - - -The winter of 1866-67 was chiefly passed by my sister at the house of -Mrs. Alfred Montgomery at Ifield near Crawley, where Esmeralda and her -aunt for many months shared in the housekeeping. For Esmeralda had been -induced to regard Mrs. Montgomery as a religious martyr, and her -impressionable nature was completely fascinated by her hostess. While at -Ifield, a fatal web was drawn each day more closely by her Catholic -associates, by which Esmeralda was induced to entrust large sums to her -brother Francis for speculation upon the political prophecies of Madame -de Trafford. Her unworldly nature was persuaded to consent to this means -of (as Francis represented) largely increasing her income, by the -prospect which was held out to her of having more money to employ in -assisting various religious objects, especially the establishment of the -Servites in London, and the foundation of their church, for which she -had promised Father Bosio, General of the Servites, to supply £500, to -be obtained either by collections or otherwise, at the expiration of -three years. Esmeralda never knew or had the faintest idea of the sum to -which her speculations amounted. She was beguiled on from day to day by -two evil advisers, and, her heart being in other things, was induced to -trust and believe that her worldly affairs were in the hands of -disinterested persons. The lists of her intended employments for the -next day, so many of which remained amongst her papers, show how little -of her time and attention was given to pecuniary matters. From them it -is seen that a quarter of an hour allotted to the discussion of -investments with her brother would be preceded by an hour spent in -writing about the affairs of a French convent or the maintenance of a -poor widow in Rome, and followed by an hour devoted to the interests of -the Servites or some other religious body. There is no doubt that -Esmeralda undertook far more than was good either for her health or for -her mind; each hour of every day was portioned out from the day before, -and was fully and intensely occupied, especially when she was in London. -If visitors or any unexpected circumstance prevented the task for which -she had allotted any particular hour, she did not leave it on that -account unfulfilled, but only detracted from the hours of rest. One -thing alone, her daily meditation, she allowed nothing to interfere -with. In the hours of meditation she found the refreshment which helped -her through the rest of the day. "Our Lord requires of us that our souls -should become a tabernacle for Him to dwell in," she wrote on February -2, 1867, "and the lamp lighted before it is the lamp of our affections." - -All through the summer of 1866, my brother William's health had been -declining, and in the autumn, in the hope of benefit from the -sea-breezes, he was moved to Brighton, which he never left. After -Christmas day he was never able to leave the house. The small fortune of -his pretty helpless wife had been lost in a bankruptcy, and they were -reduced to a state of destitution in which they were almost devoid of -the absolute necessaries of life. The following are extracts from -William's letters to his sister at this time:-- - - "You cannot imagine how I miss your letters when you cease to write - for any length of time.... Since Sunday I have been confined to my - bed, having almost lost all use of my limbs. I could not possibly - be moved to our sitting-room, being in so weak and emaciated a - condition, and I fear I shall have to keep my bed all through this - bitter cold weather. I am so miserably thin that it is with the - greatest difficulty that I can contrive to sit or lie in any - position. It is, however, God's will that it should be so, and I am - enabled to say 'Thy will be done, O Lord.' ... God has mercifully - vouchsafed me time for repentance, and has brought me back to - Himself, and made me one with Him by strengthening me with His own - body, so that, dear sister, I feel supremely happy and at peace - with all the world; and should it please Almighty God to call me - hence, I feel serene in His love, that He has graciously forgiven - me all my sins, and that He will take me to Himself where there is - no longer any pain or suffering. Father Crispin came on Wednesday - to hear my confession, and on Thursday morning he administered the - most Blessed Sacrament to me. ... Dear Edith has received £10 - lately, which you may well suppose at this critical time was - obtained with very great difficulty; but all this money has been - expended on my illness, and there is nothing left for the doctor's - visits, medicine, or to pay the butcher, baker, washerwoman, milk, - or coal bill. Yet it will not do to give up the doctor in my - critical state, or to cease taking his medicine, or to deny myself - the necessary restoratives; if I did I must inevitably sink. Will - you not, in compassion for my fallen state, consent to make me some - sort of allowance during my illness to enable me to obtain what is - necessary? - - "Mr. Blackwood (you will remember 'Beauty Blackwood,' who married - the Duchess of Manchester[376]) has sent me a little book which he - has just published--'The Shadow and the Substance,' which he - assures me is quite free from controversy, and he desires me to - read it with especial care and attention, as being conducive to my - comfort during hours of sickness and suffering." - -My sister immediately sent William all he required, when he again -wrote:-- - - "How can I thank you sufficiently for so generously responding to - my appeal in more senses than one, by sending me money to relieve - the pressure of want, books to comfort me in hours of sickness, and - wine to cheer and strengthen me?... Should I be spared, I must - accept this illness as one of the greatest, indeed the greatest - blessing I could possibly receive, for it has taught me my own - nothingness, my all insufficiency, and it has drawn me from a - sphere of sin into a sphere of grace; it has caused me to despise - the world and all its vanities, and has diverted my heart and - whole being to Almighty God; it has brought me into close communion - with Him, strengthened by the graces of His Holy Sacraments, and - has made me feel the blessedness of constant prayer. Oh, I would - not change my present state for worlds; and should it please - Almighty God to call me from hence, I feel that He will receive me - into everlasting peace. Father Crispin called last evening: he - considers me so prostrate that he intends administering the - sacrament of Extreme Unction. Pray for me! I cannot express to you - how rejoiced I am that we are again hand in hand together. You - should not forget the days of our youth, we were always - inseparable; we were then estranged from each other, and a very, - very bitter time that was to me. I cannot say that I am any - better." - -After the receipt of this letter my sister hurried to Brighton, and she -was there when William died. On the 11th of March she wrote to me:-- - - "We are here to be with William, to wait by his bedside during - these last days of his illness. On Thursday night, and again on - Friday night, it seemed as if the last hour was come, but there is - now a slight, a very slight improvement, so that he may live a few - days longer. Yesterday there came over him a momentary wish to - recover, but it passed away, and his calm resignation was really - unbroken and continues the same to-day. He does not murmur, though - his sufferings must be terrible.... From time to time he asks me - to read aloud a few lines of the 'Imitation of Christ,' but I can - scarcely do it without breaking down as I look up and see those - sunken cheeks and large glazed eyes fixed upon me with such a deep - look of intense suffering." - -Two unexpected friends appeared to cheer William's last days. One was -the young Duchess of Sutherland, who had been intimate with him as a -child, and having never met him since the days when they both lived in -the Maison Valin, heard accidentally of his illness at Brighton; she -came repeatedly to see him, and supplied him with many comforts, and -even luxuries. The other was the well-known Miss Marsh, the authoress of -the "Memorials of Hedley Vicars,"--the staunch Protestant, but liberal -Christian. She happened to call to see the landlady of the lodging where -he was, when, hearing of William's illness and poverty, she went -constantly to visit him, and laying aside in the shadow of death all -wish for controversy, read and prayed with him in the common sympathy of -their Christian faith and trust. She wrote afterwards:-- - - "Blessed be God that I have no doubt that the dying friend in whom - I have been so deeply interested was in Christ and is now _with_ - Him. We never spoke together of Romanism or Protestantism; all I - cared for was to persuade him, by the help of the Holy Ghost, to - accept at once the offer of a free and present salvation through - our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, and through Him _only_: and to - believe God's word that he that believeth on the Son of God hath - everlasting life, because of His _one_ sacrifice _once_ offered for - the sins of the whole world. And _he did believe it_, and false - confidences faded away like shadows before the sunrise. 'Jesus - only' became all his salvation and all his desire, and he passed - into His presence with a radiant smile of joy. I was not with him - when he died, but the hour of communing with his spirit that same - evening was one of the sweetest I have spent on earth." - -My sister has left some notes of that which occurred after William's -death:-- - - "After all was over, and when the room was decorated and the body - laid out, Miss Marsh came to see him, and taking his dead hand, she - placed a white camellia in it. Then kneeling by the side of the - bed, she offered up the most beautiful prayer aloud, in which she - described as in a picture our Blessed Lord and the angels receiving - his soul. It was quite wonderfully beautiful: there was only one - thing she left out; she never mentioned Our Blessed Lady; she - placed the angels before our Lady. I was standing at the foot of - the bed with a crucifix, and when she ceased praying, I said, 'But - you have never spoken of Our Lady: I cannot let Our Lady be passed - over.' And Miss Marsh was not angry; no, she only rose from her - knees, and coming to me, she threw her arms round my neck and - said, 'Do not let us dispute upon this now; we have one God and one - Saviour in common, let us rest upon these,' and she came to see me - afterwards when I was ill in London. - - "'Know thou that courtesy is one of God's own properties, who - sendeth His rain and His sunshine upon the just and the unjust out - of His great courtesy; and verily Courtesy is the sister of - Charity, who banishes hatred and cherishes love.' Were not these - the words of the dear S. Francis of Assisi? - - "During William's illness Miss Marsh came every day with something - for him, and quite stripped her own room to give him her own chair, - and even her mattress. She was just the one person William wanted. - Any dried-up person might have driven him back, but she was daily - praying by his side, handsome, enthusiastic, dwelling only on the - love of God, and she helped him on till he began really to think - the love of God the only thing worth living for. - - "'O sister,' he said to me once, 'if it should please God that I - should live, all my life would be given up to Him.' - - "The doctor who went up to him when he was told that he could not - live many hours came down with tears upon his face. 'There must - indeed be something in religion,' he said, 'when that young man can - be so resigned to die.'" - -On the Saturday after William's death my sister wrote to us:-- - - "Now that dear William's last call has come, I feel thankful for - his sake. The good priest who attended him in all the latter part - of his illness wrote to me the day after his death that I could - have no cause of anxiety for his everlasting welfare. It was a - beautiful death, he was so happy, peaceful, and resigned. I had - only left him a _very_ short time when he again asked for Edith. - She came up to his bedside, and then there seemed to come over - William's face a bright light illuminating his countenance, and - fixing his eyes upwards with a short sigh, he breathed his last. - There was no suffering then, no agony. I had asked him if he feared - death. 'No,' he said, and looked as if he wondered at the thought - coming into my mind. He felt he had found the only true peace and - happiness. He told me he wished to be buried at Kensal Green. His - only anxiety was about poor Edith, and when I told him that I would - do what lay in my power for her, he seemed satisfied, and never, I - believe, gave this world another thought, but prepared to meet our - Blessed Lord. That beautiful look of peace was on his face after - death. Francis arrived too late to see him alive, but when he - looked on William's face he said, 'Oh, sister, how beautiful!' The - little room was draped with black and white. There he lay, and we - were coming and going, and praying by the side of the open coffin. - On Tuesday will be the funeral. On Monday the body will be removed - to the Church of St. Mary of the Angels, Bayswater, where it will - remain through the night, according to devout Roman custom." - -After the funeral Esmeralda wrote:-- - - "_Ifield Lodge, Crawley._--When the long sad week was over, I felt - all power of further exertion gone, and yet it seemed, as it does - now, that for the soul God had taken to Himself, should the - happiness of that soul not yet be perfected, prayers must be - obtained, and that I must work on and on as long as life lasts. - There is a feeling of longing to help in the mind of every Catholic - for those departed. On Monday the 24th the dear remains were moved - from Brighton by the 6 P.M.train. Auntie and I went up by the same - train from Three Bridges, and Francis came to the Victoria Station - to meet the coffin; but such was the heavy feeling of sorrow, that, - though we were on the platform at the same time, we did not see - each other. - - "The next morning I went for Edith, and we arrived at the church - early. The body had been placed in one of the side-chapels, and had - remained there through the night. Before mass it was brought out, - and remained before the high-altar during mass. There were many of - William's friends present, and also Margaret Pole, now Mrs. Baker. - The funeral procession formed at the door of the church. As the - body was moved down the church, Edith and I followed after the - officiating priests. I held Edith's hand tightly, and did not - intend her to get into one of the mourning coaches, but suddenly, - as the hearse moved slowly from the church door, she wrenched her - hand from my grasp and was gone before I had time to speak. Four - nuns went to say the responses at the grave. One was the nun who - had nursed dear Mama through her last hours, and had stayed on with - me in Bryanston Street. I returned from the church to the hotel, - and there Auntie and Edith found me after the funeral was over. - - "The funeral service in the church was very solemn, but there was - no weight of gloom or sadness. The strong feeling of the safety of - the soul was such a consolation, that the end for which that soul - had been created had been gained, and that if it were not then in - heaven, the day would come soon, and could be hastened by the - prayers said for it. His dear remains rest now under the figure of - Our Lady of Sorrows, which he had so wished to see erected. I never - looked forward to such a deathbed for William, where there would be - so much peace and love of God, and now I can never feel grateful - enough for such grace granted at the eleventh hour. May we all and - each have as beautiful an end and close of life. Edith says, 'Oh I - wish I could see what William saw when he looked up with that - bright light on his face.' With that look all suffering is blotted - out of poor Edith's mind, all her long watchings. - - "I can never feel grateful enough to Miss Marsh for all her - kindness to William. It helped him to God, and it was very, very - beautiful.... I hope still to go to Rome for the _funzione_ in - June, and also to Hungary for the coronation of the Emperor." - -May 1867 was passed by my sister in London, where, by her astonishing -cleverness and perseverance, she finally gained the last of her -lawsuits, that for the family plate, when it had been lost in three -other courts. Soon after, in spite of the great heat of the summer, -Esmeralda started for Rome, to be present at the canonisation of the -Japanese martyrs, paying a visit to Madame de Trafford on the way. She -wrote to me:-- - - "When I first went to Beaujour, I was afraid to tell Madame de - Trafford that I intended to go to Rome. 'Mais où allez vous donc, - ma chère?' said Madame de Trafford. 'Mais, Madame, je vais ... en - voyage.'--'Vous allez en voyage, ça je comprends, mais ça ne répond - pas à ma question: vous allez en voyage, mais il faut aller quelque - part, où allez vous donc?'--'Mais, Madame, vous verrez de mon - retour.'--'Mais où allez vous donc, ma chère? dites-moi, où allez - vous?'--'Je vais à ... Rome!' Madame de Trafford sprang from her - chair as I said this, and exclaimed, 'Rome, Rome, ce mot de Rome, - Rome, Rome ... et vous allez à Rome ... moi aussi je vais à Rome,' - and she went with us. From the time that Madame de Trafford - determined to go, Auntie made no opposition to our going, and was - quite satisfied." - -The journey to Rome with Madame de Trafford was full of unusual -incidents. The heat was most intense, and my sister suffered greatly -from it. At Turin she was so ill that she thought it impossible to -proceed, but Madame de Trafford insisted upon her getting up and going -on. Whilst they were still _en route_ Madame de Trafford telegraphed to -Rome for a carriage and every luxury to be in readiness. She also -telegraphed to Pisa to bid M. Lamarre, the old family cook of Parisani, -go to Rome to prepare for them. My sister telegraphed to Monsignor -Talbot to have places reserved for the ceremonies, &c. All the last part -of the way the trains were crowded to the greatest possible degree, -hundreds of pilgrims joining at every station in Umbria and the -Campagna, for whom no places were reserved, so that the train was -delayed six or seven hours behind its time, and the heat was increased, -by the overcrowding, to the most terrible pitch. My sister wrote:-- - - "In the carriage with us from Florence was a young Florentine - noble, a Count Gondi, all of whose relations I knew. He asked me - what I should do after the canonisation. 'Ça dépend, M. le Comte, - si on attaquera Rome.'--'Mais, certainement on l'attaquera.'--'Eh - bien, done je reste.'--'Mais vous restez, Mademoiselle, si on - attaque Rome.'--'Oui, certainement.'--'Et vous, Madame,' said Count - Gondi, turning to Madame de Trafford. 'Mais si on attaque Rome,' - said Madame de Trafford, 'je ferais comme Mademoiselle Hare, je - reste, bien sure.' His amazement knew no bounds. - - "When we arrived at Rome, I was so afraid that Madame de Trafford - might do something very extraordinary that I made her sleep in my - room, and slept myself in the little outer room which we used to - call the library, so that no one could pass through it to my room - without my knowing it. The morning after we arrived she came into - my room before I was up. I said, 'Mais, Madame, c'était à moi de - vous rendre cette visite?'--'Laissez donc ces frivolités,' said - Madame de Trafford, 'nous ne sommes pas ici pour les frivolités - comme cela: parlons du sérieux; commençons.'" - -The ceremonies far more than answered my sister's expectations. She -entered St. Peter's with Madame de Trafford by the Porta Sta. Marta, and -they saw everything perfectly. She met the Duchess Sora in the church, -radiant with ecstasy over what she considered so glorious a day for -Catholicism. "I _knew_ you would be here," said the Duchess; "you -_could_ not have been away." The meeting was only for a moment, and was -their last upon earth. "When the voices of the three choirs swelled into -the dome," wrote Esmeralda, "then I felt what the Pope expressed in -words, 'the triumph of the Church has begun.' When we first went into -St. Peter's, Giacinta,[377] who had _felt_ I should be there, was -waiting for me. 'Eccola, la figlia,' she said, 'io l'aspettava.'" - -Afterwards Giacinta came to see my sister at the Palazzo Parisani. "I -shall never forget the meeting of those two souls," wrote Esmeralda, -"when Giacinta first saw Madame de Trafford. They had never heard of one -another before: I had never mentioned Giacinta to Madame de Trafford, -and she had never heard of Madame de Trafford, but they understood one -another at once. Madame de Trafford passed through the room while -Giacinta was talking to me, and seeing only a figure in black talking, -she did not stop and passed on. Giacinta started up and exclaimed, 'Chi -è?'--'Una signora,' I said. 'Quello se vede,' said Giacinta, 'ma quello -non è una risposta--chi è?'--and when I told her, 'O vede un' anima,' -she exclaimed. Madame de Trafford then did what I have never known her -do for any other person; she looked into the room and said, 'Faites la -passer dans ma chambre,' and we went in, and the most interesting -conversation followed." - -As she returned through Tuscany, Esmeralda had her last meeting with her -beloved Madame Victoire, who had then no presentiment of the end. At -Paris she took leave of Madame de Trafford, and returned to London, -where she for the first time engaged a permanent home--5 Lower Grosvenor -Street. The furnishing of this house was the chief occupation of the -next two months, though Esmeralda began by depositing in the empty rooms -a large crucifix which Lady Lothian had given her, and saying, "Now the -house is furnished with all that is really important, and Providence -will send the rest." A room at the top of the house was arranged as an -oratory; an altar was adorned with lace, flowers, and images; a lamp -burned all night long before the crucifix, and if Esmeralda could not -sleep, she was in the habit of retiring thither and spending long hours -of darkness in silent prayer. There also she kept the vigil of "the Holy -Hour." Early every morning the Catholic household in Grosvenor Street -was awakened by the sharp clang of the prayer-bell outside the oratory -door. - -I went to stay with my sister in August for a few days. Esmeralda was at -this time looking very pale and delicate, but not ill. Though the beauty -of her youth had passed away, and all her troubles had left their trace, -she was still very handsome. Her face, marble pale, was so full of -intelligence and expression, mingled with a sort of sweet pathos, that -many people found her far more interesting than before, and all her -movements were marked by a stately grace which made it impossible for -her to pass unobserved. Thus she was when I last saw her, pale, but -smiling her farewell, as she stood in her long black dress, with her -heavy black rosary round her neck, leaning against the parapet of the -balcony outside the drawing-room window. - -All through the winter Esmeralda wrote very seldom. She was much -occupied with her different books, some of which seemed near -publication. "The Study of Truth," upon which she had been occupied ever -since 1857, had now reached such enormous dimensions, that the very -arrangement of the huge pile of MS. seemed almost impossible. A volume -of modern American poetry was to be brought out for the benefit of the -Servites, and was also in an advanced state; yet her chief interest was -a collection of the "Hymns of the Early Church," obtained from every -possible source, but chiefly through the aid of foreign monasteries and -convents. Upon this subject she kept up an almost daily correspondence -with the Padre Agostino Morini of the Servites, who was her chief -assistant, especially in procuring the best translations, as the -intention was that the original Latin hymn should occupy one page and -that the best available translation should in every case be opposite to -it: many hundreds of letters remain of this correspondence. In the -autumn Esmeralda was again at Ifield Lodge, where she was persuaded into -a wild scheme for building a town for the poor at Crawley. Land was -bought, measurements and plans were taken, and a great deal of money was -wasted, but Esmeralda fortunately withdrew from the undertaking before -it was too late. - -But the state of excitement and speculation in which she was now -persuaded to live had a terrible effect upon Esmeralda, who had -continued in a weak and nervous state ever since her hurried journey to -Rome. She now found it difficult to exist without the stimulus of daily -excitement, and she added one scheme and employment to another in a way -which the strongest brain could scarcely have borne up against. On her -return to London she threw herself heart and soul into what she called a -scheme for the benefit of the "poor rich." She remembered that when she -was herself totally ruined, one of her greatest trials was to see her -mother suffer from the want of small luxuries in the way of food to -which she had been accustomed, and that though their little pittance -allowed of what was absolutely necessary, London prices placed chickens, -ducks, cream, and many other comforts beyond their reach. Esmeralda -therefore arranged a plan by which she had over twice a week, from -certain farms in Normandy, large baskets containing chickens (often as -many as eighty at a time), ducks, geese, eggs, apples, and various other -articles. The prices of the farm produce in Normandy were so low, that -she was able, after paying the carriage, to retail the contents of her -hampers to the poor families she was desirous of assisting, besides -supplying her own house, at a cost of not more than half the London -prices. Many families of "poor rich" availed themselves of this help and -were most grateful for it, but of course the trouble involved by so many -small accounts, with the expenditure of time in writing notes, &c., -about the disposition of her poultry was enormous. It was in the -carrying out of this scheme that Esmeralda became acquainted with a -person called Mrs. Dunlop, wife of a Protestant, but herself a Roman -Catholic. Esmeralda never liked Mrs. Dunlop; on the contrary, she both -disliked and distrusted her; but owing to her interesting herself in the -same charities, she inevitably saw a great deal of her. - -During the winter an alarming illness attacked my brother Francis. He -was my brother by birth, though I had seldom even seen him, and -scarcely ever thought about him. Looking back now, in the distance of -years, I wonder that my Mother and I never spoke of him; but he was -absolutely without any part in our lives, and we never did, till this -winter, when my sister mentioned his refusing to go to live with her in -Grosvenor Street, which she had hoped that he would do when she took the -house, and of his putting her to the unnecessary expense of paying for -lodgings for him. Here he caught cold, and one day, unexpectedly, Dr. -Squires came to tell Esmeralda that he considered him at the point of -death. She flew to his bedside and remained with him all through the -night. As she afterwards described it, she "could not let him die, and -she breathed her life into his: she was willing to offer her life for -his." - -After this Esmeralda wrote to us (to Rome) that the condition of Francis -was quite hopeless, and that her next letter must contain the news of -his death. What was our surprise, therefore, when the next letter was -from Francis himself (who had never written to us before), not merely -saying that he was better, but that he was going to be married -immediately to a person with whom he had long been acquainted. At the -time of this marriage, Esmeralda went away into Sussex, and afterwards, -when she returned to London, she never consented to see Mrs. Francis -Hare. - -My sister's cheque-books of the last year of her life show that during -that year alone her brother Francis had received £900 from her, though -her income at the most did not exceed £800. He had also persuaded -Esmeralda to take a house called "Park Lodge" in Paddington, with an -acre and a half of garden. The rent was certainly low, and the -arrangement, as intended by Esmeralda, was that her brother should live -in two or three rooms of the house, and that the rest should be let -furnished. But tenants never came, and Francis lived in the whole of the -house, after furnishing it expensively and sending in the bills to his -sister, who paid them in her fear lest anxiety about money matters might -make him ill again. - -At the end of March Esmeralda received a letter from Madame de Trafford, -of which she spoke to Mrs. Dunlop. She said, "Madame de Trafford has -written to me in dreadful distress. She says she sees me in a very dark, -narrow place, where no one can ever get at me, and where no one will -ever be able to speak to me any more." Esmeralda laughed as she told -this, and said she supposed it referred to the prison to which Augustus -said she would have to go for her extravagance; but it was the grave of -which Madame de Trafford spoke. - -In March, Esmeralda talked to many of her friends of her plans for the -future. She said that in consequence of the expense of keeping up the -house, she should be obliged to part with Grosvenor Street, and that she -should go abroad--to Rome, and eventually to Jerusalem. She did more -than merely form the plan of this journey. She had the dresses made -which she intended to wear in the East, and for three nights she sat up -arranging all her papers, and tying up the letters of her different -friends in separate parcels, so that they might more easily be returned -to them. To Mary Laffam, her then maid, who assisted her in this, she -said, "Mary, I am going on a very, very long journey, from which I may -never return, and I wish to leave everything arranged behind me." - -In the beginning of May Esmeralda went with her aunt to spend three -weeks in Sussex. After she returned to Grosvenor Street, she was very -ill with an attack like that from which she had suffered at Dijon -several years before. Having been very successfully treated then in -France, she persuaded her aunt to obtain the direction of a French -doctor. The remedy which this doctor administered greatly increased the -malady. This was on Tuesday 19th. - -On Thursday 21st my sister was so much weakened and felt so ill, that -she dismissed the French doctor, and sent again for her old doctor, -Squires, who came at once. He was much shocked at the change in her, and -thought that she had been terribly mistreated, but he was so far from -being alarmed, that he saw no reason why her house should not be let, as -arranged, on the following Tuesday, to Mademoiselle Nilsson, the Swedish -songstress, and said that the change would do her good. - -About this time, by Esmeralda's request, my aunt wrote to tell Madame de -Trafford of the illness, but she did not then express any alarm. On -Saturday the good and faithful Mrs. Thorpe[378] saw Esmeralda, and was -much concerned at the change in her. She remained with her for some -time, and bathed her face with eau-de-Cologne. Esmeralda then took both -Mrs. Thorpe's hands in hers, and said no one could do for her as she -did. Mrs. Thorpe was so much alarmed at Esmeralda's manner, which seemed -like a leave-taking, that she went down to our Aunt Eleanor and tried -to alarm her; but she said that as long as the house could be let on -Tuesday to Mademoiselle Nilsson, the doctor must be perfectly satisfied, -and there could not possibly be anything to apprehend. - -Sunday passed without any change except that, both then and on Saturday, -whenever her brother Francis was mentioned, Esmeralda became violently -agitated, screamed, and said that he was on no account to be admitted. - -Father Galway was away, but on Monday Esmeralda sent for Father Eccles, -and from him she received the Last Sacraments. When I asked my aunt -afterwards if this did not alarm her, she said, "No, it did not, because -Esmeralda was so nervous and so dreadfully afraid of dying without the -Last Sacraments, that whenever she felt ill she always received them, -and the doctor still assured her that all was going on well." - -That night (Monday, May 25), a nun of the Misericorde sat up in the -room. Aunt Eleanor went to bed as usual. At half-past four in the -morning she was called. The most mysterious black sickness had come on, -and could not be arrested. Dr. Squires, summoned in haste, says that he -arrived exactly as a clock near Grosvenor Square struck five. He saw at -once that the case was quite hopeless, still for three hours he -struggled to arrest the malady. At the end of that time, Esmeralda -suddenly said, "Dr. Squires, this is very terrible, isn't it?"--"Yes," -he replied, throwing as much meaning as possible into his voice, "it is -indeed _most_ terrible." Upon this Esmeralda started up in the bed and -said, "You cannot possibly mean that you think I shall not recover?" Dr. -Squires said, "Yes, I am afraid it is my duty to tell you that you -cannot possibly recover now."--"But I do not feel ill," exclaimed -Esmeralda; "this sickness is very terrible, but still I do not feel -ill."--"I cannot help that," answered Dr. Squires, "but I fear it is my -duty to tell you that it is quite impossible you can live." - -"It was then," said her doctor, "that her expression lost all its -anxiety. Death had no terror for her. She was almost radiant." The -serenity of her countenance remained unchanged, and to her last moment -she was as one preparing for a festival. - -After a pause she said, "Tell me how long you think it possible that I -should live." Dr. Squires said, "You might live two days, but it is -quite impossible that you should live longer than that." She at once -asked for writing materials, and with a firm hand, as if she were well, -she wrote a telegraphic despatch bidding Madame de Trafford to come to -her at once. (The office was then closed, and when it was opened, it was -already too late to send the despatch.) Then Dr. Squires kindly and -wisely said, "I fear you have little time to lose, and if you wish to -make any changes in your will, you had better make them at once." My -sister answered, "Oh, I must alter everything. I never thought it -possible that I should die before my aunt, and I wish to leave things so -that my death will make no difference to her." The doctor, seeing a -great change coming on, was afraid to leave the room even to get a sheet -of paper, and he wrote upon a scrap of paper which he picked up from the -floor. My sister then made a very simple will, leaving everything to her -(Protestant) aunt, Miss Paul, except her interest in Park Lodge and a -chest of plate which she left to Francis, and her claims to a portrait -by Sir Joshua Reynolds,[379] which she left to me. - -When Esmeralda had dictated the page containing these bequests, her -doctor wisely made her sign it in the presence of her servants before -she proceeded to dictate anything else. Thus the first portion of her -will is valid, but before she had come to the end of another page -containing small legacies to the Servites, to the Nuns of the Precious -Blood, &c., the power of signature had failed, and it was therefore -valueless. - -Esmeralda then said almost playfully, "You had better send for the Nuns -of the Precious Blood, for they would never forgive me, even after all -is over, if they had not been sent for," and a maid went off in a cab to -fetch the Abbess Pierina. It was then that a priest arrived from Farm -Street to administer extreme unction, and Dr. Squires, seeing that he -could do nothing more, and that my sister was already past observing who -was present, went away. - -The Abbess Pierina says that she arrived at the house about nine -o'clock, and saw at once that Esmeralda was dying. A priest was praying -by the bedside. She remained standing at the foot of the bed for about -ten minutes, then she went up to Esmeralda, who said, "I am dying." A -few minutes afterwards, in a loud and clear voice, she called "Auntie," -and instantly fell back and died. - -Thus the day which she looked for as her Sabbath and high day came to -her, and she passed to the rest beyond the storm--beyond the bounds of -doubt or controversy--to the company of those she justly honoured, and -of some whom she never learnt to honour here, in the many mansions of an -all-reconciling world. Let us not look for the living amongst the dead. -She exchanged her imperfect communion with God here for its full -fruition in the peace of that Sabbath which knows no evening. - - * * * * * - -During the whole of the last terrible hours our poor deaf aunt was in -the room, but she had sunk down in her terror and anguish upon the chair -which was nearest the door as she came in, and thence she never moved. -She never had strength or courage to approach the bed: she saw all that -passed, but she heard nothing. - -Soon after all was over, the Abbess Pierina came down to my aunt, and -revealed--what none of her family had known before--that Esmeralda had -long been an Oblate Sister of the Precious Blood, and she begged leave -to dress her in the habit of the Order. All the furniture of the room -was cleared away or draped with white, and the bed was left standing -alone, surrounded night and day by tall candles burning in silver -sconces, with a statue of "Our Lady of Sorrows" at the head, and at the -foot the great crucifix from the oratory. Esmeralda was clothed in a -long black dress, which she had ordered for her journey to Jerusalem, -but had never worn, and round her waist was the scarlet girdle of the -Precious Blood. On her head was a white crape cap and a white wreath, as -for a novice nun. - -As soon as Aunt Eleanor was able to think, she sent for her sister, Mrs. -Fitz-Gerald, who arrived at 11 A.M. She, as a strong Protestant, said -that she could never describe how terrible the next three days were to -her. All day long a string of carriages was ceaselessly pouring up the -street, and a concourse of people through the house, nuns of the -Precious Blood being posted on the different landings to show them where -to go. Each post brought letters from all kinds of people they had never -heard of before, asking to have _anything_ as a memorial, even a piece -of old newspaper which Esmeralda had touched. - -On the day after we arrived at Holmhurst from Germany (Sunday 31st), I -went up to try to comfort my broken-hearted aunt at the house in -Grosvenor Street. The rooms in which I had last seen Esmeralda looked -all the more intensely desolate from being just finished, new carpets -and chintzes everywhere, only the last pane of the fernery in the back -drawing-room not yet put in. My aunt came in trembling all over. It was -long before she was able to speak: then she wrung her hands. "Oh, it was -so sudden--it was so sudden," she said; and then she became more -collected, and talked for hours of all that had passed. Those present -said that for the whole of the first day she sat in a stupor, with her -eyes fixed on vacancy, and never spoke or moved, or seemed to notice any -one who went in or out. - -The coffin was already closed, and stood in the middle of the room -covered with a white pall, and surrounded by burning candles and vases -of flowers. Upon the coffin lay the crucifix which both Italima and -Esmeralda held in their hands when they were dying. Near it was the bed, -with the mark where the head had lain still unremoved from the pillow. - -On Monday afternoon there was a long wearying family discussion as to -whether the remains were to be taken to Kensal Green in the evening, to -remain throughout the night in the cemetery chapel. Francis insisted -that it should be so. Our Aunt Fitz-Gerald declared that if it was done -she would not go to the funeral, as she would not follow _nothing_. I -agreed with Mrs. Fitz-Gerald, and the nuns of the Precious Blood were -most vehement that the body should not be removed. Eventually, however, -Francis carried his point. At 9 P.M. we all went up for the last time to -the room, still draped like a chapel, where the coffin lay, covered with -fresh flowers, with the great crucifix still standing at the foot -between the lighted candles. Then what remained of Esmeralda was taken -away. - -The next day (June 2) was the funeral. At the cemetery the relations who -came from the house were joined by Mr. Monteith, Lady Lothian, Lady -Londonderry, Lady Georgiana Fullerton, the Abbess Pierina, and all the -nuns of the Precious Blood, with several nuns of the Misericorde. - -[Illustration: ESMERALDA'S GRAVE.] - -The chapel was full of people, but it is very small, and a very small -part of it is used for seats. The larger part was spread with a rich -crimson carpet, in the midst of which rose a kind of catafalque, upon -which lay the coffin, covered with a long purple velvet pall, -embroidered in golden letters--"May all the holy saints and angels -receive her soul." Round this were six candles burning in very tall -brass candlesticks. After the priest had gone round with the holy water -and incense, a door at the east end of the church was thrown open and -the pall removed, when the light poured in upon the coffin and its -silver ornaments and the large silver cross lying upon it. Then we all -passed out round the shrubberies to the grave, where the vault was -opened just behind the beautiful seated statue of "Our Lady of Sorrows" -under the cross, which Esmeralda had herself erected. Upon the coffin -was engraved-- - - ANNE FRANCES MARIA LOUISA HARE, - E. de M. - (Enfant de Marie), - _Oblate of the Order of the Precious Blood._ - Born October 9, 1832. - Died May 26, 1868. - -As the priest said all the leading sentences, the nuns, with clear -voice, sang the responses. The whole service occupied nearly an hour and -a half. We drove home in total silence: Aunt Fitz-Gerald led Auntie into -the desolate house. - -Thus was my sweet sister Esmeralda taken from us--being removed from the -evil to come. - - "Souls of the Holy Dead! - Though fancy whispers thus to musing hearts, - We would not call ye back, whence ye are fled, - To take your parts - In the old battle-strife; or break - With our heartache-- - The rest which ye have won and in Christ's presence take." - - - - -XIV - -THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CONSPIRACY - - "Glory to Thee in Thine Omnipotence, - Who dost dispense, - As seemeth best to Thine unerring will - The lot of victory still; - Edging sometimes with might the sword unjust, - And bowing to the dust - The rightful cause, that so much seeming ill - May Thine appointed purposes fulfil." - - --SOUTHEY. - - "Sprechen ist silbern, Schweigen ist golden." - - --_Swiss Inscription._ - - "If you your lips would keep from slips, - Of five things have a care: - To whom you speak, of whom you speak, - And how, and when, and where." - - --_Old Distich._ - - -At eleven o'clock on the morning of my sister's death, our aunt, Mrs. -Fitz-Gerald, arrived in Grosvenor Street. She wrote to me afterwards:-- - - "When Eleanor sent for me, after I recovered the shock, I went - immediately to Grosvenor Street, and the first thing I asked before - going up to Eleanor was, 'Is Mr. Hare (Francis) upstairs?' The - maid made answer, 'Oh, no; Miss Hare would not hear of seeing him, - and forbade us to let him enter the house, declaring that he had - her death to answer for.' I could not believe this statement, and I - called another servant into the dining-room, who repeated exactly - the same thing, saying also that things had taken place in that - house which were fearful, and that they were afraid of their lives. - _I_ was the innocent cause of Francis coming to sleep in the house, - as I did not think it was right that Eleanor should be left alone - with the dead body of your sister. I did not know till the - following morning, when the servants told me, that people had been - walking about the house the whole night, and that the Rev. Mother - (Pierina) had forbid them to leave the kitchen, hear what they - would."[380] - -Upon this, and all succeeding nights until the funeral, the three maids -persistently refused at night to go upstairs, saying that they had seen -a spirit there, and they remained all through the night huddled up -together in a corner of the kitchen. By day even they manifested the -greatest terror, especially Mary Laffam, the lady's-maid, who started -and trembled whenever she was spoken to, and who entreated to be allowed -to go out when she heard the lawyer was coming, "for fear he should ask -her any questions." If they had the opportunity, they always made -mysterious hints of poison, and of Esmeralda's death having been caused -by unnatural means. To the Rev. Mother Pierina, Mary Laffam said at one -time that Miss Hare had told her she knew that she should die of -poison.[381] All the servants constantly repeated to the Rev. Mother -their conviction that Miss Hare was poisoned. They talked a great deal, -especially Mary Laffam, who horrified the Abbess by saying that Miss -Hare had herself said in her last moments, "I am poisoned and I die of -poison."[382] In consequence of all that the servants had said to Mrs. -Fitz-Gerald of their certain conviction that my sister had been -poisoned, she was most anxious, before my return to England, for a -post-mortem examination, but Francis violently opposed this, and he -carried his point. - -The opinion that my sister's death was caused by poison was shared by -many of those who came to see her after death. They could not but -recollect that though Dr. Squires _then_ said he believed her to have -died of ulceration of the intestines, up to the day before the death he -had said that she might be removed, that the house might be let, and had -suggested no such impression. For two days _after_ death, black blood -continued to stream from the mouth, as is the case from slow corrosive -poison, and three eminent physicians, on hearing of the previous -symptoms and the after appearances (Dr. Hale, Sir Alexander Taylor, and -Dr. Winslow), gave it as their opinion that those were the usual -symptoms and appearances induced by corrosive poison. Mrs. Baker -(Marguerite Pole) wrote to me on June 24:--"The idea of poison is the -one I formed the first moment I saw the body, as for some years I was -practically versed in medicine, and I was at a loss how to account for -various appearances in a natural way--_i.e._, from illness." - -When I arrived at the house on May 31 (the death having taken place on -the 26th), I found all its inmates agitated by the various reports which -were going about. Mrs. Fitz-Gerald was full of a dreadful message which -she believed to have been given by my dying sister to the Abbess -Pierina. "When I am dead, go to my brother Francis, and tell him that he -was the cause of my death, and that he will have to answer for it." This -message was also repeated to me by Mrs. Baker and by Mrs. William Hare, -and was always spoken of as having been given to the Rev. Mother -herself. On each occasion on which I heard it spoken of, I said that the -message had much better not be given to Francis, as he was in such a -weak state of health that it might do him serious injury; and that -probably when my sister gave it, she was in a state of semi-delirium, -brought on by her extreme weakness. I entirely declined to question the -servants, consequently I heard nothing directly from them, only their -words as repeated by Mrs. Fitz-Gerald, and the many persons to whom the -Mother Pierina had related them. - -I never had any interview with or heard anything directly from Pierina -herself. The reason of this was that, three days after the death, she -had a violent scene with Mrs. Fitz-Gerald, who had intercepted her in -the act of carrying off two large heavy silver candelabra from the -oratory, and some valuable point-lace, which she had ripped off the -altar-cloth and concealed in her pocket. She also took away a quantity -of small articles (rosaries, crucifixes, &c.), which were afterwards -returned with the more valuable articles by order of Monsignor Paterson, -who wrote to express his extreme grief and annoyance at her conduct. My -own impression still is that Pierina was a simple and devout character, -who would not willingly do anything she believed to be wrong, but that -she was really convinced (as she said) that it was a duty to take away -these things, which had been dedicated to the service of a Roman -Catholic altar, in order to prevent their being applied to secular uses -in a Protestant household. After this, however, which occurred before my -arrival, the Abbess Pierina was never allowed to return to the house, so -that I never saw her. - -Immediately after the death, all the small articles in my sister's room -had been hastily removed, in order that the room might be draped with -white, and to give it as much as possible the appearance of a chapel. On -the day before the funeral, I saw Mrs. Fitz-Gerald, who was in the inner -drawing-room, after opening a davenport and looking into a -blotting-book, suddenly burst into tears. "Oh," she said, "the whole -mystery is revealed now; it is all quite plain; you may see what it was -that killed your sister," and she held up a letter from Francis, written -on the Friday evening before her death--a cruel letter, telling her in -the harshest terms that she was totally ruined, that she might sell her -house and her plate, and all else that she possessed, for she had -nothing whatever left to live upon; but that, as he did not wish her to -starve, she and her aunt might come to live _with his wife_. This letter -Esmeralda must have received on Saturday morning, soon after writing the -affectionate note to Francis, which was read afterwards at Guildford in -proof of the happy terms on which she was living with him. But it was -her peculiar habit, when she was ill or suffering, to put letters aside, -whoever they might be from, and not to read them till she felt better; -it is therefore quite possible that she did not open this letter till -Monday, when it gave the fatal blow. This was my impression at the time, -and then and always afterwards, when others spoke of poison, I said, -"There were strange signs of poison, and many people think she was -poisoned, but it is my firm conviction that she did not die of poison, -but of _a broken heart_--_a heart broken by her brother Francis_." - -On the 6th of June I spent the whole morning in the office of my -sister's solicitor examining accounts and papers, and the afternoon at -Coutts' Bank to find out what was left. The result of the investigation -was to show that in October my sister possessed £12,000 clear, besides -a great quantity of plate, diamonds, and other valuables, and the house -in Grosvenor Street paid for and clear from debt, as well as the -property in the Palazzo Parisani at Rome. At the time of her death she -possessed, interest and principal combined, £216, and debts to a -considerable amount, while the diamonds and plate seemed to have -disappeared without leaving a trace behind them. - -Several days afterwards, while I was taking an envelope out of the -envelope-box on the table, I saw a bit of bluish paper sticking up -between the partitions of the box. I absently poked it up with a -paper-knife, and then found that it was a pawn-ticket from Attenborough -for £120 upon diamonds. Turning out a quantity of old _Times_ from a -cupboard, I afterwards found there a pawn-ticket for £100 upon plate; -later I found a third ticket for £82 upon some diamond earrings. -Attenborough told me that Francis had brought his sister there at -different times and placed the plate and diamonds in pawn. - -Whilst I was still in Grosvenor Street, many of my sister's Catholic -friends came to see me. Mrs. Montgomery came three times. I had never -liked her, and had greatly deprecated my sister's intimacy with her, but -in the presence of what I believed to be a common grief I could not -refuse to receive her, and she was apparently most sympathising and even -affectionate. The second time she came she sat by me on the sofa and -spoke of Esmeralda's death as making a blank in her whole future life. -She said what a comfort and happiness it would be to her if she were -ever able to be of use to me in any way,--in any way to supply the place -of her I had lost.... Yet ten days after![383] - -Mrs. Dunlop came several times. On June 8 she would not get out of her -carriage, but begged me to come down to her and speak to her in it. She -then said, "Now I know you would not speak of these things to any one -else, but you _know_ you may trust me: now do tell me, was it not most -extraordinary that Francis should, in spite of her forbidding him, force -his way into his sister's house just upon the one day on which he knew -his aunt was away? Now of course you would not speak of this to every -one, but Esmeralda loved me as a sister. You _know_ you may trust me." -She went on very long in the same strain. At last I was so shocked that -I got up and said, "Mrs. Dunlop, I see what you _wish_ me to say. You -_wish_ me to say that I think my brother poisoned my sister. Recollect -that _I do not think so_. I distinctly think that he was the cause of -her death, but I think that she died of a broken heart," and so saying I -left her. - -In the face of this Mrs. Dunlop afterwards asserted that I had told her -that Francis poisoned my sister. In fact, I shall always believe that -the whole of the poisoning story, as it appeared at the trial which -ensued, originated, sprung up, and fructified with Mrs. Dunlop, the most -unscrupulous of the conspirators concerned. "Where the devil cannot go, -he sends an old woman," is an old German proverb. - - * * * * * - -[Illustration: Mary Stanley] - -On June 9 I received a letter from my adopted mother's niece, Mary -Stanley, saying that some friends had come up to her at a party, and -spoken of the cruel way in which Mr. (Francis) Hare had been treated by -his Protestant relations. When she asked an explanation, they said that -Mrs. Montgomery had asserted (it was at Lord Denbigh's) that the doors -of the house in Grosvenor Street were forcibly closed upon Mr. and Mrs. -Francis Hare during Miss Hare's illness, and that she was influenced in -her last moments to cancel a will in which she had left all her money to -her brother Francis; also that neither Francis nor his wife were -then allowed to enter the house or to see their aunt, and that they had -nothing to live upon, owing to their having been disinherited by Miss -Hare, who supported them during her life. Mary Stanley, a Roman -Catholic, shocked at such falsehoods promulgated by a member of her own -creed, and seeing the discredit it was likely to bring upon her party, -strongly urged my writing to Mrs. Montgomery, who had professed such -intimate friendship for me, stating that I had heard such a report was -circulated, though not by whom, and after putting her in possession of -the facts, as my sister's dearest friend, urging her to contradict it. - -Having an inward distrust of Mrs. Montgomery, and a shrinking from any -communication with her, I did not then write as Mary Stanley wished. - -On June 11 Mary Stanley came down to Holmhurst, and again vehemently -urged my writing to Mrs. Montgomery in defence of Miss Paul. On June 12 -I yielded to her repeated solicitations, and wrote--Mary Stanley and my -adopted mother looking over the letter and approving it sentence by -sentence. When it was finished, Mary Stanley said, "That letter is -perfect: you must not alter a word: it could not be better." The letter -was as follows:-- - - "_Holmhurst, June 13, 1868._--Dear Mrs. Montgomery, I have heard on - good authority that a report has been circulated in London to the - effect that the doors were perfectly closed upon Mr. and Mrs. - Francis Hare during Miss Hare's illness, and that she was - influenced in her last moments to cancel a will in which she had - left all her money to her brother Francis; also that neither - Francis nor his wife are now allowed to enter the house or to see - their aunt, and that they have nothing to live upon, owing to their - being disinherited by Miss Hare, who supported them during her - life. - - "As it is a pity that this impression should be allowed to gain - ground, and as you were latterly the most intimate friend my - dearest sister possessed, I venture to put you in possession of the - facts. - - 1. "In her previous will my sister had not even mentioned Francis' - name. She had left £4000 to me, a very large legacy to Lady G. - Fullerton, legacies to other friends, and the remainder to her - aunt. Francis was not even alluded to. - - 2. "Francis was not allowed to see my sister during the last days - of her life at her own especial request: the very mention of his - name made her scream with horror. In her last moments she left a - solemn message with the Superior of the Precious Blood, to be given - him after her death. This message was of so terrible a kind that, - owing to Francis' critical state of health and the uncertainty of - his life, he has hitherto been spared the pain of hearing it. - - 3. "Francis and his wife are _not_ allowed, by the lawyer's - direction, to see my aunt until the whole terrible story of my - sister's sudden death is cleared up. In the month of November, - besides Grosvenor Street, bought and paid for, she possessed - £12,000 in money; when she died she was absolutely penniless, - except £216, interest and principal combined, and she was - overwhelmed with debts. There is no trace of any part of her - fortune except of £2000 which was lost on the Stock Exchange - through brokers to whom Francis introduced her. - - 4. "My dear sister's accounts at Coutts' show only too clearly that - Francis had the greater part of her income. He will henceforward - receive _nothing_ from his aunt, who is totally ruined, and will - scarcely have enough left to buy daily bread, as £2400 of her own - little fortune is gone owing to signatures which Francis persuaded - her to give. - - "I am sure you will forgive my troubling you thus far with our - family affairs, but I am certain that many, knowing your intimacy - with my sister, may ask you for information, and I wish you to be - in a position to give it. Believe me yours very truly, - - "AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE." - -In writing this letter, I had no idea of the significance which it might -be made possible to attribute to the sentence No. 3--"Until the whole -story of my sister's sudden death is cleared up." My own mind dwelt -entirely and fixedly upon the impression that my sister's terribly -sudden death was caused by the cruel shock of Francis' ungrateful letter -coming to her in her weak state. To have it cleared up would be in my -mind to have it clearly ascertained that she was poisoned, as most -people believed, because in that case it would be certain that Francis -might be held guiltless of her death, since--putting other reasons -aside--he had never once been allowed to enter the house during the last -days of the illness, and therefore _could_ have nothing to do with it. - -The statements about the money were perfectly correct; my sister's -solicitor vouched for them. I believed all the other statements to be -correct also, for I wrote them, not upon what I had heard from one -person, but from what I had heard repeatedly and from many. I did not -know till long afterwards that "the message" was not given _by my -sister_ herself to the Superior of the Precious Blood, but that the -Superior had received it through the servants. It will be borne in mind -that I had never myself seen the Superior, except in the group of -mourners round the grave. - -It was not till after I had written the letter to Mrs. Montgomery that I -was able to read all the details of my sister's former will, annulled -upon her death-bed. All that I had said and more than that was true. -The will was of great length and detail, but Francis was not even -alluded to. It began by leaving £4000, the family diamonds, miniatures, -and plate, with various other valuables, to me, but it also left me -residuary legatee. There was a legacy of £4000 to Lady Georgiana -Fullerton, or, if she were dead, to her husband, Alexander Fullerton; -£200 to Lady Lothian; £200 to Mr. and Mrs. Theodore Galton; £200 to -Father Galway--in all about £5000 to Roman Catholics. Besides these, -there were considerable legacies to Victoire, to Flora Limosin and her -daughter, to Clémence Boissy,[384] and £200 annuity to her aunt. There -were small legacies to various nuns--Serafina della Croce, Pierina of -the Precious Blood, the "Saint of St. Peter's," &c. - -From the virulence and avarice afterwards displayed by the Roman -Catholics, and by the fact of their bringing an action to get the exact -sum, £5000, we could only conclude that they had discovered that my -sister had originally left them that sum and that they determined to -extort it from the Protestant part of the family, in spite of the fact -that she had really left _nothing_, so that even the last will was -valueless, and that, if it had not been so, I should have been the chief -sufferer, having been residuary legatee under the old will.[385] - -In less than a week from the time of my sending the letter to Mrs. -Montgomery, I received one from a lawyer, who had long been mixed up -with Francis' affairs, stating that unless I at once withdrew and -apologised for every part of that letter, an action for libel would be -brought against me. Knowing that Francis was utterly insolvent, my -family and I treated this as an idle threat, and declining any -correspondence with the person in question, referred him to my -solicitor. Mrs. Montgomery and Mrs. Dunlop had persuaded Francis to -these proceedings, and Mrs. Montgomery had at once begun to stir up -strife by taking the letter to him. - -On hearing what had happened, Mary Stanley wrote:-- - - "_July_ 16, 9 A.M.--You may imagine that my indignation is - boundless. I can scarcely believe it. There must be some mistake, - because there is no _sense_ in it. _You_ were not in England when - the will was made: it is Miss Paul, if any one, from whom they - ought to extort money, if they wish it. - - "2 P.M.--All morning I have been out in your service. I went first - to Farm Street, to see if I could see any of the priests who knew - anything of the matter, but only two were in, who knew nothing. - Then I went to Lady G. Fullerton, she was out; to Lady Lothian, she - was out; then to find out Monsignor Paterson's direction, and - happily I found _it_ and _him_. I wish you could have heard all he - said. The _moment_ I mentioned the name principally concerned he - stopped me--'You need say no more; I can believe _anything_ of that - person.' _Nothing_ could be stronger than his words about her.... - He was just as indignant at the whole transaction as you and I are. - He said Francis, finding all else fail, was now trading on his - faith. The Abbess Pierina had told him _all_ that your sister said - on her deathbed, and Monsignor Paterson desired me to say that you - had only to command his services, and he would keep _her_ to her - words." - -Meanwhile the action for libel was declared, an action which openly -avowed its object, to extort £5000. Meanwhile, also, it was found that -Mr. and Mrs. Monteith of Carstairs had joined the conspirators, and were -hand in hand with Mrs. Dunlop and Mrs. Montgomery. Soon after I reached -home, Mrs. Monteith had written to me, expressing her great devotion to -my sister's memory, and begging me to send all the sad details connected -with her death. I answered to the effect that those who were present -could better tell the story of my sister's death. Had I written to Mrs. -Monteith, doubtless my letter to _her_ would have been used in the -action, instead of that which I wrote, when I fell into the more skilful -trap laid by Mrs. Montgomery. The Monteiths before this were intimate -friends of mine. I had spent a week at Carstairs in the preceding -October. With Francis they were previously unacquainted. Therefore it -could have been only the interests of their Church which incited them to -the course they pursued. - -On the 18th of July Mary Stanley wrote:-- - - "At last I have got into the enemy's camp. I found Mrs. Dunlop this - morning, and for an hour heard her version, and was aghast at the - violence with which she spoke. I am very glad I have seen her, - because it gives me a fresh insight into the state of things. She - said Francis himself was absolutely passive, and allowed his - friends to act for him; that he was now living on charity, and of - course his friends must defray the cost of prosecution. - - "She also said that Mrs. Montgomery's letter was used for the - prosecution only because it happened to be more convenient than - Mrs. Dunlop's evidence. They were _resolved to prosecute you_. - - "I was so afraid of doing mischief, I scarcely knew what to say, - but the general point I urged was that I had heard from a Catholic - priest to whom I had spoken on the subject that the accusation of - poison originated with the Abbess, _who had told my informant_ that - Miss Hare had said so _to her_!--and that my informant was ready to - hold her to these words." - -I do not think that any words could describe my misery at this -time--"battered and fretted into great sorrow of heart," as Carlyle -would say. It was naturally of far more consequence to _me_ than to any -one else to screen the miserable Francis, whom I _alone_ had cared for -and helped during the long years of his prison life, and who was now--as -a last resource--consenting to extort what was equivalent to hush-money -from me--either hush-money to save the family from the exposure of his -own past life, or a provision for life from the Roman Catholic -conspirators, if they were successful in the scheme to which he lent -himself. Yet I possessed nothing, and even if I could have brought -myself to let the Roman Catholics so far triumph, I could not have -allowed my adopted mother to impoverish herself by the purchase of their -silence. And all the time there was the unutterable weariness of -contradicting all the false reports, of making over and over again the -statement that if my sister were poisoned, _then_ Francis, who had never -seen her during her illness, was innocent of her death, but that if she -were _not_ poisoned, then the moral cause of it must be attributed to -him; and mingled through the whole were silent bursts of indignant -misery over the cruel sufferings which Esmeralda had undergone, and the -calumnious falsehood of her friends, with anguish over her so recent -death. - - * * * * * - -When it became quite evident that the only real object of the conspiracy -was to extort money from me, because I was supposed to be, as Mrs. -Dunlop expressed it, "the richest of the family," I did all I could to -save family scandal by offering to withdraw the letter to Mrs. -Montgomery altogether. My solicitor made every possible offer on my -part, but was always answered that they must have "pecuniary -compensation,"--in fact, it was always made a question of buying back -the letter to Mrs. Montgomery. The conspirators, as Mrs. Dunlop said, -were "resolved to prosecute," and wished to use the letter to Mrs. -Montgomery because "it was more convenient to use than anything else." -They would listen to nothing, consider nothing. Is it not -Whyte-Melville who says, "I never knew but one woman who could -understand reason, and she wouldn't listen to it?" - -When we knew that the trial was inevitable, we did what we could to -prepare for it. I was strongly advised to put the case entirely into the -hands of my sister's solicitor, who was already acquainted with all the -dark page of Francis' past life, rather than to give it to my adopted -mother's respectable, old-fashioned solicitor, who was totally -unacquainted with it. I afterwards regretted this course, as the one -remark made by the latter, "that the Abbess should _now_ be allowed to -deliver her message," showed greater perspicuity than anything which was -done by the former. He, on the contrary, insisted that there should be -no communication at all with Pierina till just before the trial, and -begged that I would not see her at all; he also allowed himself entirely -to lose sight of the servants, in spite of my repeated entreaties. His -plan seems to have consisted in ferreting out all the proofs of what -Francis' conduct had been for many years past, and of the way in which -he preyed upon his sister during the last year of his life, as shown by -his own letters and my sister's accounts, which were in our hands. - -In the "declaration of the action for libel" it was set forth as the -necessary "injury" that it had caused Francis to be avoided by all his -friends and acquaintances. Upon this we sued for particulars. Francis -returned a list of the persons whom he declared to have been led to -avoid him--"Mrs. Montgomery, Mrs. Dunlop, Mr. Monteith, Mrs. Monteith, -Marchioness of Lothian, and Miss Bowles," a list which included the very -persons (several of whom he had not known before) who were at that time -in constant communication with him, and were bringing on and subscribing -for the action, which was nominally on his behalf. On Tuesday, July 28, -the Roman Catholic lawyer asked permission to fix the day for the trial. -This courtesy was not refused. He fixed the day instantly and summoned -his witnesses, but he did not let us know till Saturday, August 1, that -the trial was to be on Monday, August 3, when, owing to the want of a -London post on Sunday, it was most difficult, almost impossible, to -summon the witnesses on our side. - -On Friday, July 31, my acting solicitor went to Monsignor Paterson and -took down his deposition as to Pierina's account to him of the -death-bed. Monsignor Paterson then deposed that "the message" had been -given by my sister in the form already described, and that my sister had -also said she was "poisoned, and knew that she died of poison." Upon -receiving this evidence, my solicitor naturally felt sure of his cause. -He then went to see the Abbess Pierina in Mecklenburgh Square, when, to -his utter amazement, she totally denied ever having received the -message; but (being terrified by threats as to the "legal consequences" -which might accrue to her) she did not _then_ say that the message had -been given to the servants and by them delivered to her to give to -Francis. - -On Saturday afternoon, August 1, Monsignor Paterson again saw Pierina, -and, to _his_ amazement, was informed that the message which he had so -positively declared to have been given to the Abbess was not what Miss -Hare said to her, but what Miss Hare had said to the maids, who had told -her. Monsignor Paterson wrote this immediately to my solicitor, who -(owing to the want of London post on Sunday) only received it in court. - -On Saturday, August 1, the announcement came that the trial would take -place at Guildford on Monday the 3rd. On Monday morning Mary Stanley and -I drove early to the Waterloo station to go down to Guildford. There -were so many passengers for the trial that a special train was put on. -At the station I was close to Mr. Monteith, who had come from Scotland -to represent his wife, and young Gerard, who was to open the -prosecution, but there was no speech between us. Sir Alexander Taylor -went down with us, and at Guildford we were joined by many other -friends. - -The heat of that day was awful, a broiling sun and not a breath of air. -We had a little room to meet in at the hotel. Almost immediately I was -hurried by my solicitor to the room where our senior counsel, the great -Hawkins, was breakfasting at the end of a long table. He complained of -the immense mass of evidence he had had to go through. He said--what I -knew--that such a trial must expose terrible family scandals--that it -would be a disgrace not to snatch at any chance of bringing it to a -close--that probably the judge would give it for private investigation -to some other Queen's counsellor--that, in fact, it was never likely to -_be_ a trial. - -When I came down from Mr. Hawkins, Mary Stanley and I were taken to -court. There were so many cases to be tried, that ours could not come on -for some time. As Leycester Penrhyn was there, who was chairman of the -Quarter Sessions at Guildford, we were given places on the raised daïs -behind the judge, and there we all sat waiting through many hours. In -that intensely hot weather, the court-house, with its high timber roof -and many open windows, was far cooler than the outer air, and we did not -suffer from the heat. But the judge, Baron Martin, whom I have heard -described as far more at home on a racecourse than on the judgment-seat, -was suffering violently from diarrhœa, was most impatient of the -cases he had to try, and at last snatched his wig from his head and -flung it down upon the ground beside him. - -About three o'clock in the afternoon we were assured that it was quite -impossible our case could be brought on that day, as there were still so -many others to be tried, and we were advised to go out and rest. So Mary -Stanley and I went back to the hotel and remained there in a cool room. -Presently, to our horror, a messenger came running down from the court -and said, "Your case is on, and has been on twenty minutes already." We -rushed to the court and found the whole scene changed. All the -approaches to the court were crowded, literally choked up with witnesses -and Roman Catholic spectators. The court itself was packed to -overflowing. As I was hurried through the crowd, I recognised the -individuals forming the large group of figures immediately behind the -judge. There were Pierina of the Precious Blood and her attendant nuns -in their long black veils and scarlet girdles; there, in her quaint -peaked head-dress, was the nun of the Misericorde who had watched -through the illness; there was the burly figure of Mr. Monteith; the -sallow face of Mrs. Dunlop; her husband the Admiral; Mrs. Montgomery, -beautiful still; Lady Lothian in her deep mourning and looking very sad -at being subpœnaed, which was a terrible pain to her; Dr. Squires, -Mr. Seyer, and Miss Bowles. - -When I was brought in, all seemed to be confusion, every one speaking at -once; Mr. Hawkins was in vain trying to put in a word, the judge was -declaiming that he would have an end of the trial, whilst Serjeant Parry -for the prosecution was in a loud voice reading the letter to Mrs. -Montgomery and giving his comments upon it. - -The proceedings had commenced by the judge saying that he considered the -case one which it would be most undesirable to discuss in a public -court; and suggesting, indeed trying to enforce, that it should be left -to the arbitration of some friend of the family. Repeatedly Baron Martin -urged the expediency of a private investigation, saying that he "felt it -his duty to make the suggestion, and that he thought the learned counsel -(Parry) might act upon it." But the lawyers for the opposition refused -any compromise whatever, for they knew what the evidence of Pierina and -the servants was to be. - -Serjeant Parry then opened his speech by describing between whom the -action was taking place. He drew a picture of the nominal prosecutor's -life in which he dwelt on "the brilliant examination at Sandhurst," but -touched lightly upon the time which he had passed in the gaieties both -of the Continent and of this country, after which he became "not -embarrassed, but reduced in circumstances." He then said that Esmeralda -had recently had a tolerable fortune, and was doubtless "supposed at her -death to be in possession of it, but she was not, for she entered into -speculations which had proved unsuccessful, so that she died a -comparatively poor woman." He then described the death-bed will. He -asserted that the only cause of the death was inflammation of the -bowels. He then said that he should proceed to read the letter, -"supplementing it with evidence to prove that the defendant was actuated -by the wickedest malice." - -It was at this point that we arrived in court. When a little silence was -obtained, Parry began to read the letter, and having concluded the first -sentence, said, "When the defendant states that a report has been -circulated in London, &c., he states a deliberate falsehood. No such -report ever was heard by him, and I will not say it is the effect of his -imagination, it is simply an invention for the purpose of damaging the -character of his brother."[386] - -Serjeant Parry then read the paragraph saying that in the first will -Francis was not even alluded to. "I have reason to believe that this -also is totally false," he said, and that with the will itself lying -open upon the table before him. - -Parry passed over the third paragraph of the letter, without any -criticism except an absolute denial, but he read a note written by my -sister before she received Francis' fatal letter, in proof of the -affectionate terms on which they were living. That the "mention of his -name made her scream with horror," he declared to be utterly false, and -he asserted (for the first time stating facts) that the Abbess Pierina -would deny that any message was given by my sister to _her_. Finally, -Parry denied that there was any truth in the statement that Francis had -received money from his sister, beyond the sum of £300. - -As Serjeant Parry concluded his speech, Mrs. Montgomery was called into -the witness-box. While the preliminary questions were being put to her, -the confusion in court increased; a letter was brought in to Mr. -Harrison and handed on by him to Mr. Hawkins. It was the letter from -Monsignor Paterson, written on Saturday evening, which announced that -Pierina would deny and belie the deposition he had made. Immediately Mr. -Hawkins turned round to me and said, "Our cause has received a fatal -blow; the Abbess Pierina is about to deny all the evidence she has given -before--deny all that she has said to Monsignor Paterson, and will swear -that your sister's death-bed passed in total silence, save for the -single word 'Auntie,' and under these circumstances it is perfectly -useless to go on; our antagonists will get the money they long for; for -money is all they really care for."--"But," I said, "we can bring -endless persons and Monsignor Paterson's own deposition to prove what -the Abbess's former statements have been."--"No," said Mr. Hawkins, "you -cannot bring a witness to prove a witness."--"But," I said, "we can -prove every other part of the letter."--"That will do no good," said Mr. -Hawkins; "if you fail in proving a single point, you fail in proving the -whole, and the Roman Catholics will get the money; besides, you cannot -prove every other part of the letter, for where is the maid, Mary -Laffam?--she is not here." And in truth, Mary Laffam (whose evidence was -all-important, who was to swear to the screaming at the very mention of -Francis' name, who was constantly present during the illness) was -mysteriously missing, and no trace of her could then be found. Two days -afterwards she was traced, and it was discovered that she had been sent -abroad by the Roman Catholic confederates to be out of the way--sent by -them to the Augustinian Abbey of Charentan in France. - -During the discussion which was now taking place, the utmost excitement -prevailed in court. Almost every one stood up. Mr. Hawkins urged--"Are -your adopted family prepared to pay what the Roman Catholics -claim?"--"Certainly not."--"Then you must submit to a verdict."--"I -leave it in your hands." So I wrote on a bit of paper, "Say no more than -this. I withdraw anything that may be legally taken as _libellous_ in -the letter to Mrs. Montgomery." Then the group opened, and Mr. Hawkins -again stood up and said that he was in a position to withdraw the -letter--if it contained any libellous statements to apologise for them. -At the same time "his client could not submit to be told that he had -either acted maliciously or invented anything: he was absent from -England at the time of his sister's death, and had throughout acted -entirely upon information he had received from those upon the spot." - -"I will have an end of this, gentlemen," exclaimed the judge--"I give a -verdict for forty shillings." - -"Make it ten guineas, my Lord," shouted the Roman Catholic lawyer, who -had previously interrupted Serjeant Parry by saying "We will have money, -we will have money." "There shall be an end of this, gentlemen," said -the judge; "I give a verdict for forty shillings," and he walked out of -court. And so this painful ordeal came to an end. It was not till -afterwards that I was aware that the verdict of forty shillings obliged -me to pay the costs of both sides--£199 to my lawyer, and £293 to the -Roman Catholic lawyer, which was afterwards reduced by a taxing-master -to £207, 9s. 1d. - -As soon as we left the court and returned to the hotel, our solicitor -came in, and, before all those of our family who were present, declared -how, by my desire, he had repeatedly offered to withdraw the letter to -Mrs. Montgomery, but how money was always demanded as its price, and how -money was proved throughout to be the only real object of those who -brought the action. In looking back, therefore, upon the whole of this -terrible affair, I only see three ways in which the trial could have -been avoided:-- - - 1. If Miss Stanley had had the courage to go openly to Mrs. - Monteith and Lady Lothian, and say boldly that she, a Roman - Catholic, was the cause of my writing the letter to Mrs. - Montgomery; that as to the "report," I acted entirely and - exclusively on information which she gave; that at first I had - hesitated to do as she wished, but that she had continued to urge - it; and that she, a Catholic, had looked over the letter before it - was sent, and begged me not to alter a word of it. - - 2. If my solicitor had acted upon the one piece of advice given by - Mr. Phelps, and weeks before the trial had requested Pierina to - deliver her "message," we should then have known that the message - was not given to her except through the medium of the servants, - and therefore that by English law the wording of the letter was - indefensible. - - 3. If my solicitor had been less supine in summoning witnesses--if - he had at once subpœnaed Mary Laffam and the other maids on our - side, and had also summoned my Aunt Fitz-Gerald, who would have - been willing and glad to give her evidence, and whose very - appearance would have made Francis shrink from allowing the Roman - Catholic confederacy to continue the trial. - -Mary Stanley and I went early to the Guildford station to wait for the -train which was to take us back to London. We had not been long on the -platform before all the Roman Catholic party emerged upon it. I went at -once to meet and _pass_ them, thinking it better at once to establish -the terms on which we were to remain through life. The Mother Pierina -alone lingered behind the rest, and, with streaming eyes and -outstretched hands, came towards me. "Oh, I thought it would have been -for peace," she said. I could not refuse to take her hand, when Mr. -Monteith, turning round, roughly seized her by the shoulder and led her -away, saying, "Reverend Mother, I must insist that you do not speak to -that ... _person_." Afterwards, when she was entering the railway -carriage after the others, Mrs. Dunlop seized Pierina and pushed her out -of the carriage, almost throwing her down upon the platform, and slammed -the carriage-door in her face. Admiral Dunlop immediately forced his -wife to get out of the carriage and apologise to the Reverend Mother. I -did not know till long afterwards the reason of Mrs. Dunlop's violence, -which was the persistence with which Pierina throughout that day had -dwelt upon the wicked unfairness of having the trial in the absence of -Mary Laffam, who was the witness really responsible for all that had -been said. On August 19 Mary Stanley wrote to me:-- - - "Yesterday I saw Sister Pierina. She said how extremely grieved she - had been for you. She said the lawyer on the Catholic side read the - evidence to all the party at Guildford, and that she then expressed - her dissent, saying that it was not in accordance with what Mary - Laffam had said to her and others, and that in justice to you, she, - Laffam, ought to be present. All through that day (which she said - was most dreadful to her) she asserted and reasserted this, and - that you were not fairly dealt with, and to me she complained sadly - of the un-christian spirit in which the affair had been carried on: - Mrs. Dunlop, she said, was _far_ the worst. - - "Pierina denies _nothing_. She could only say, when asked about the - message, that none was given directly to _her_, and that to her - your sister had only said, 'Tell Francis that he has been the - cause of my death.' She was forbidden to say to whom the message - was given. So far from going over to the other side, she was at war - with them the whole day, and told me she did not believe any of - that party would ever come near her again; and I met Monsignor - Paterson on Sunday, who told me that Mrs. Dunlop had been to him to - complain bitterly of her." - -Afterwards the feeling of the conspirators, especially of Mrs. Dunlop -and Mrs. Montgomery, became so violent against the Mother Pierina (on -account of her persisting in the injustice of the trial), that they not -only stopped their own subscriptions to her charities, but induced -others to do so, and eventually, by the interest of Mr. Monteith with -Monsignor Talbot and other Roman authorities, they brought about her -recall and persecuted her out of England altogether. - -On August 7, Monsignor Paterson wrote a long letter to Mary Stanley, -explanatory of his conduct in the affair. It contained the following -remarkable passage:-- - - "A day or two after Miss Hare's death, which took me quite by - surprise, I went to her house, and there saw Sister Pierina, who - told me she had been summoned, and found Miss Hare actually dying; - that she seemed very suffering, and had some difficulty in - resigning herself to the will of God. I remember also hearing that - she expressed distress at some conduct on the part of Mr. Francis - Hare, and I thought that other expressions used implied a suspicion - on her part of some kind of _foul play_. Of course, had I taken - this _au sérieux_, it would have made a great impression, but I set - it down, after a moment's reflection, as a random (perhaps almost - delirious) expression, such as people who are very ill sometimes - use with very little meaning at all." - -Strange certainly that an eminent Roman Catholic priest should call at -his friend's house, hear that she had died suddenly, and that she had -said on her death-bed that she died from "foul play," and yet be able so -easily to dismiss the subject from his mind! - -Soon after the trial I wrote a long account of the whole proceedings to -Archbishop Manning. His answer was very kind but very evasive--"Miss -Hare's death was most sad ... the trial must have been most painful," he -"sympathised deeply," &c., but without giving a direct opinion of any -kind. - -It was not till some months later that I became acquainted with a secret -which convinced me that, though my sister's end was probably hastened by -the conduct of her brother Francis, yet poison was the original cause of -her death. When we next visited Pisa, Madame Victoire told me how, when -my sister was a little girl of six years old at Paris, she and her own -little girl, Victoria Ackermann, were sitting on two little stools doing -their needlework side by side. Suddenly there was a terrible outcry. -Little Anna Hare had swallowed her thimble. The whole house was in -consternation, doctors were summoned in haste, the child was given -emetics, was held upside down, everything was done that could be done to -bring the thimble back, but it was too late. Then the doctors inquired -what the thimble was like, and on seeing the thimble of the little -Victoria, who had received one at the same time, were satisfied that it -was not dangerous, as the thimble being of walnut-wood, would naturally -dissolve with time, and they gave medicines to hasten its dissolution. -But, in the midst of the confusion, came Mrs. Large, the nurse, who -confessed with bitter tears that, owing to her folly, the thimble was -not what it was imagined to be. She had not liked to see the child of -the mistress with the same thimble as the child of the maid, and had -given little Anna one with a broad band which looked like gold but was -really copper. When the doctors heard this, the accident naturally -assumed a serious aspect, and they redoubled their efforts to bring back -the thimble. But everything failed; the wooden thimble dissolved with -time, but the copper band remained. Gradually, as Esmeralda grew -stronger, the accident was forgotten by all but her mother, Mrs. Large, -and Madame Victoire, who observed from time to time, in childish -illnesses of unusual violence, symptoms which they alone could -recognise, but which were such as would arise through slight injury from -poison of verdigris. As my sister grew, the copper ring grew also, -attenuated to the minutest thread, but encircling her body. From time to -time she was seriously affected by it, but her mother could not bear it -to be spoken of, and her repulsion for the subject communicated itself -to Esmeralda herself. She was warned to evade a damp climate or the use -of vegetables. When she was seized with her violent illness at Dijon, -the symptoms were all such as would be caused by poison of verdigris. -She then went to Pisa, where Madame Victoire was alarmed by what she -heard, and insisted upon the best advice being procured, and a medical -examination. The doctors who saw her, even then spoke to Madame Victoire -of her state as very serious, and requiring the most careful watching. -When Esmeralda went to Rome to the canonisation in the summer of 1867, -she returned by Pisa. The faithful Madame Victoire then sent for a -famous medical professor of the University of Bologna to meet her, and -insisted upon her being examined by him. He afterwards told Madame -Victoire privately that though, by intense care, Miss Hare might live -for many years, her life, in case of accident, hung on a thread, and -that it was highly improbable that she would live long, for that the -copper ring was beginning to tell very seriously upon her constitution, -and that when she died it would probably be suddenly of black sickness, -with every appearance of poison--poison of verdigris. And so it was. - - * * * * * - -One of the principal actors in the scene at Guildford was soon after -called to account before a higher tribunal than any that earth can -afford. On the 18th of November (1868) I received (at Rome), to my great -surprise, a letter from Madame Flora Limosin, of the Hôtel de Londres at -Pisa (Victoire's youngest daughter), saying that Francis was about to -arrive there from Hyères. He had been sent away from England some time -before, having then £80 in his possession. Whether this sum was obtained -by a Roman Catholic subscription, I have never been able to learn, but -from this time the Roman Catholic conspirators ceased to help him: he -had failed as the instrument for which they required him, and they now -flung him aside as useless. His folly at Guildford, in lending himself -to their designs, had also alienated the whole of his own family, even -to the most distant degrees of relationship. Not knowing where to turn, -he could only think of two persons who would receive him in his -destitution. His mother's faithful maid Madame Victoire and her daughter -Flora were still living at Pisa, and to them, when he had only £20 left, -he determined to make his way. On landing at Spezia, though even then in -a dying state, he would not enter a hotel, because he felt that if he -entered it he would never have strength to leave it again, and he sat -for hours upon his luggage on the platform of the station till the train -started. For the sake of their old companionship in childhood, and of -the kindness she had received from my father, Flora Limosin not only -received Francis, but also the person to whom he was married, and gave -them some quiet rooms opening upon the garden of the Hôtel de Londres, -where he was nursed by the faithful friends of his infancy.[387] He was -attended by Padre Pastacaldi, who administered to him the last offices -of the Church, and says that he died penitent, and sent me a message -hoping that I forgave him for all that had passed at Guildford. He died -on the 27th of November, utterly destitute, and dependent upon the -charity of his humble friends. He was buried by them in a corner of the -Campo Santo at Pisa, near their own family burial-place, where the -letters F. H. in the pavement alone mark the resting-place of Francis -George Hare, the idolised son of his mother.[388] - - - - -XV - -LAST YEARS WITH THE MOTHER - - "Nothing but the infinite pity is sufficient for the infinite - pathos of human life."--JOHN INGLESANT. - - "Never here, for ever there, - Where all parting, pain, and care, - And death, and time shall disappear-- - For ever there, but never here! - The horologe of Eternity - Sayeth this incessantly,-- - Forever--never! - Never--forever!" - - --LONGFELLOW. - - "Dic nobis ... Quid vidisti in via? - ... Gloriam vidi Resurgentis." - - --_From the Paschal Mass._ - - "C'est une âme qui se racconte dans ces volumes: '_Autrefois, - aujourd'hui_.' Un abîme les sépare, le tombeau."--VICTOR HUGO. - - -The autumn of 1868 was indeed filled for me with utter misery and -"weariness of spirit." If it were not that my dear Mother had gone hand -and hand with me through the terrible time of the trial and the weeks -which followed, I could scarcely have survived them. To please her, I -went away for a time, at the end of August, to our old friend Mrs. -Francis Dawkins near Havant, and to Ripley Castle and Flaxton in -Yorkshire; but I had no spirits to enjoy, scarcely to endure these -visits. - -It added to the complication of troubles that the poor Aunt Eleanor, for -whose sake alone I had brought all the trouble upon myself, now began to -take some perverted view,--_what_ I have never ascertained. She went to -live with her brother George Paul, who had lately returned from America, -and for ten years I never saw her to speak to. - -[Illustration: JOIGNY.[389]] - -I was most thankful when we left England for Italy on the 12th of -October, and seemed to breathe freely when we were once more in our old -travelling life, sleeping in the primitive inns at Joigny and Nuits, and -making excursions to Citeaux and Annecy. Carlyle says, "My father had -one virtue which I should try to imitate: _he never spoke of what was -disagreeable and past_," and my Mother was the same; she turned her back -at once upon the last months, which she put away for ever like a sealed -volume. We spent several weeks at Florence in the Via della Scala, -whence, the Mother being well, I went constantly to draw in the gallery -of sketches by Old Masters at the Uffizi. But, in the middle of -November, I felt already so ill, that I began to dread a possibility of -dying where my Mother would not have any one to look after her, and on -the 16th we hurried to Rome, where I had just time to look out lodgings -for my Mother, and establish her and Lea in the Piazza Mignanelli, when -I succumbed to a violent nervous fever. Most terrible are the sufferings -which I recollect at this time, the agonising pains by day, and the -nights of delirium, which were truly full of Coleridge's "pains of -sleep," in which I was frequently haunted by the sardonic smile of the -horrible Mrs. Dunlop, and otherwise by dreams which were, as Carlyle -would say, "a constant plunging and careering through chaos and cosmos." -In the second week of December I rallied slightly, and could sit with -Mother in the sun on the terrace of Villa Negroni. By the 14th I was -able to walk a little, and went, supported on each side, to the quiet -sunny path by the Tiber which then existed opposite Claude's villa. Just -in front of us a carter was walking by the side of his cart, heavily -laden with stones. Suddenly the wheel of the cart went too near the -steeply sloping bank of the Tiber and tipped over; the horse tried in -vain to recover itself, but the weight of the stones was so great that -it was dragged down, and slowly, slowly, screaming as only animals do -scream, disappeared with the cart under the swollen yellow waters; while -the driver stood helplessly upon the bank shrieking and wringing his -hands. - -Weak as I was, this terrible scene naturally brought back all my fever, -which now turned to typhoid, and I soon became delirious. By the -following Sunday my life was despaired of. But in the small hotel where -we had stayed at Florence, we had met an American, Dr. Winslow, with -his wife and daughters, to whom my Mother had shown kindness, and who -had been struck with our entire union and devotion to each other. Dr. -Winslow arrived in Rome when I was at the worst, and the first news he -heard was that I was dying. He at once gave up his Roman sight-seeing -and everything else, and devoted himself to me, coming many times a day -and nursing me with such wonderful care, that I eventually recovered, -though it was February before I was at all myself again. It was an -unspeakable blessing that my Mother continued well during my long -illness, and was so kindly looked after by Mrs. Woodward and Miss Wright -that I had no anxiety about her; though in the spring, when we had moved -to the Via Babuino, she had one of her strange illnesses, ending in a -tranquil unbroken sleep which lasted two days and nights. It was about -this time that she was called to bear a loss which in earlier years -would have been utterly crushing, that of her sister-friend Lucy, who -expired peacefully in her quiet home at Abbots-Kerswell, with only her -faithful maid watching over her. In her hermit-life, my Aunt Lucy had -become farther removed from us each year, but two years before my -Mother had found great happiness in visiting her, and her beautiful -letters were a constant enjoyment. Still it is a merciful dispensation -that to those who are themselves on the border-land of heaven, -bereavements fall less bitterly, separations seem so short; and, to my -Mother, the loss of the dearest friend of her early life was only a -quiet grief: she had "only gone from one room into the next." My Aunt -Lucy Hare had never liked me, but I had none of the bitter feeling -towards her which I had towards my Aunt Esther: she truly loved my -Mother, and I could admire, though I could not enter into, the various -graces of her character, which were none the less real because they were -those of a Carmelite nun in Protestant form. - -To Roman antiquaries this spring was rendered important from the -discovery of the site of the Porta Capena,--the site of which was long a -vexed question,--by Mr. J. H. Parker, the Oxford publisher, who devoted -much of his fortune to archæological pursuits. Pius IX. granted him -permission to excavate without in the least believing anything would -come of it. But when he came to inspect the discoveries he exclaimed, -"Why, the heretic's right," and complained bitterly that his own -archæologists, whom he paid highly, should have failed to find what had -been discovered by a foreigner. Mr. Parker carefully marked all the -pieces then found of the Servian Wall, and numbered them in red; but the -_guardia_, seeing the red marks, thought they meant something -revolutionary, and destroyed them. When he found them gone, Parker was -furious. "Is it," he said, "due to the absurdities of an effete -religion, or is it perhaps the insolence of some rival archæologist?" -(meaning Rosa). - -As we returned through France in the spring of 1869, we diverged to -Autun and Nevers, the last of the pleasant expeditions the dear Mother -and I made together in summer weather. The greater part of our summer -was spent quietly at home, and was chiefly marked for me by the marriage -of my dear friend Charlie Wood to Lady Agnes Courtenay. - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Holmhurst, July 10, 1869._--Your description made me see a - pleasant mental picture of the cousinhood assembled at your party. - For myself, I cannot but feel that all _social_ pleasures will - henceforward become more and more difficult for me, as the Mother, - though not ill, becomes daily more dependent upon me for all her - little interests and amusements, so that I scarcely ever leave her - even for an hour. It is an odd hermit-like life in the small - circuit of our little Holmhurst, with one or two guests constantly - changing in its chambers, but no other intercourse with the outside - world. At last summer has burst upon us, and looks all the brighter - for the long waiting, and our oak-studded pastures are filled with - gay groups of haymakers, gathering in the immense crop. The garden - is lovely, and my own home-sunflower is expanding in the warmth and - stronger and better than she has been for months past." - -[Illustration: PORTE D'ARROUX, AUTUN.[390]] - - "_Holmhurst, August 1._--I cannot be away from home at all this - summer, partly because I cannot leave Mother, who (though very - anxious to promote my going away) is really becoming more dependent - upon my constant care and companionship; and partly because I - cannot afford the inevitable small expenses of going anywhere, our - finances having been completely prostrated by the Roman Catholic - robberies last year. Indeed, I have never been poorer than this - year, as I have had _nothing_, and when I put two threepenny bits - into the Communion plate to-day, felt exceedingly like the widow - with the two mites, for it was literally all that I possessed! - However, this is not so very dreadful after all, and I daresay - another year matters will come round." - -In September, however, when Charlotte Leycester came to take care of my -Mother, I did go to the North. - - _To_ MY MOTHER. - - "_Ridley Hall, Sept. 1, 1869._--Though I have got into a great - scrape with Cousin Susan by calling blackberry jelly, 'jam,' and - though I was _terribly_ scolded the other day for saying - 'thanks,'--'such new-fangled vulgarity,'--this visit at Ridley has - been very pleasant. First, there never was more perfect ideal - weather, so fresh and bright, so bracing, and the colouring of the - woods and moorlands, and the glorious tumbling amber-coloured - rivers so beautiful. Then I feel much stronger and better than I - have done for two years past, and Cousin Susan, who thought me - most ghastly when I arrived, is quite satisfied with the results of - her grouse, pheasants, and sherry. On Wednesday Lady Blackett came - to spend the day, and, after she was gone, Cousin Susan and I made - a long exploring expedition far beyond the Allen Water, up into the - depths of Staward valley--most romantic little paths through woods - and miniature rocky gorges to a ruined bridge and 'Plankey Mill,' - and then up a steep wood path to the moor of Briarside. Cousin - Susan had never been so far since she lived here, and we were - walking, or rather climbing, for three hours, attended by the white - dogs. These have chairs with cushions on each side the fireplace in - her new sitting-room. One is in bad health, has medical attendance - from Hexham at half-a-guinea a visit, and uninitiated visitors must - be rather amazed when they see 'my poor little sick girl' whom - Cousin Susan is constantly talking of.... On Sundays there is only - service here in the morning: the clergyman giving as his curious - reason for not having it in the afternoon, that 'perhaps it might - annoy the Dissenters.' ... This evening it has thundered. Cousin - Susan, as usual on such occasions, hid herself with her maid under - the staircase (the safest place in case of thunderbolts), and held - a handkerchief over her eyes till it was over; but her nerves have - been quite upset ever since, and we are not to have the carriage - to-morrow for fear the storm should return." - - - _"Ford Castle, Sept. 8._--It was almost dark as I drove up the - beautiful new road over the high bridge to the renovated castle, - which is now all grand and in keeping. I found the beautiful - mistress of the house in her new library, which is a most - delightful room, with carved chimney-piece and bookcases, and vases - of ferns and flowers in all the corners and in the deep embrasures - of the windows. She is full of the frescoes in her school. 'I want - to paint "Josiah was eight years old when he began to reign." I - think he must be a little boy on a step with other children round - him--a very little boy, and he must have some little regal robes - on, and I think I must put a little crown upon his head.'" - - [Illustration: FORD CASTLE, THE LIBRARY.[391]] - - - "_Sept. 10._--Every day of a visit at Ford always seems to contain - more of charm and instruction than hundreds of visits elsewhere. - The great interest this time has been Lady Canning's drawings--many - hundreds of them, and all so beautiful that you long to look at - each for hours. All yesterday evening Lady Waterford read aloud to - us--old family letters, from old Lady Hardwicke and from Lady Anne - Barnard. 'My great-aunt, Lady Anne Barnard,' she says, 'wrote a - book very like your Family Memoirs, only hers was too imaginative. - She called all her characters by imaginary names, and made them all - quite too charming: still her book is most interesting. She was - very intimate with Mrs. Fitzherbert, and describes all her first - meetings with George IV. and the marriage, and then she went with - her on her famous expedition to Paris. She got possession of all - the real letters of the family and put them into her book, but she - embellished them. She got hold of a letter Uncle Caledon wrote to - my aunt when he proposed to her, but when Uncle Caledon read the - book and found a most beautiful letter, he said, "My dear, I never - wrote all this."--"No, my dear," she answered, "I know you did not, - but then I thought your real letter was not warm enough." Lady Anne - Barnard wrote "Auld Robin Gray," and she used to describe how some - one translated it into French, and how, when she went to Paris, she - saw every one looking at her, she could not imagine why, till she - heard some one say, "Voilà l'auteur du fameux roman de Robin - Gray.'"[392] - - - "_Sept. 10._--We have all been to luncheon at Carham, sixteen miles - off, and the latter part of the drive very pretty--close to the - wide reaches of the Tweed, with seagulls flitting over it, and - Cuyp-like groups of cattle on the shore, waiting for the ferryboats - to take them across to Coldstream Fair. Carham is one of the - well-known haunted houses: the 'Carham light' is celebrated and is - constantly seen. We asked old Mrs. Compton of eighty-three, who - lives there now, about the supernatural sights of Carham. 'Och,' - she said, 'and have ye niver heard the story of the phantom - carriage? We have just heard it this very morning: when we were - waiting for you, we heard it drive up. We are quite used to it now. - A carriage drives quickly up to the door with great rattling and - noise, and when it stops, the horses seem to paw and tear up the - gravel. Strange servants are terribly frightened by it. One day - when I was at luncheon I heard a carriage drive up quickly to the - door: there was no doubt of it. I told the servant who was in - waiting to go out and see who it was. When he came back I asked who - had come. He was pale as ashes. "Oh," he said, "it's only just the - phantom coach." - - "'And then there is the Carham light. That is just beautiful! It is - a large globe of fire in the shape of a full moon: I have seen it - hundreds of times. It moves about in the woods, and sometimes - settles in one place. The first time I saw it I was driving from - Kelso and I saw a great ball of fire. I said to the driver, "What - is that?"--"Oh, it's just the Carham Light," he said. When - Dick[393] came in, he said he did not believe it--he had never seen - it; but that night it came--bright as ever. All the gentlemen went - out into the woods to examine it; but it moved before them. They - all saw it, and they were quite convinced: it has never been - explained.' - - "We had tea with the charming old lady. 'I've just had these cakes - made, Lady Waterford,' she said, 'because they were once very weel - likit by some very dear to you; so I thought you would like them.' - - "Lady Waterford sends you a riddle:-- - - 'Mon premier est un tyran, mon second une horreur, - Mon tout est le diable lui-même. - Mais si mon premier est bon, mon second ne fait rien, - Et mon tout est le bonheur suprême.'"[394] - - - "_Foxhow, Ambleside, Sept. 12, 1869._--How lovely the drive into - Foxhow from Windermere; but, after the grand ideas of my childhood, - how small everything seems, even the lake and the mountains! We - drove in at the well-remembered gate by Rotha Cottage, and along - those lovely Swiss pasture-meadows. It was like a dream of the past - as one turned into the garden, all so exactly the same and so well - remembered, not only from our last brief visit, but from that of - twenty-six years ago. Dear Mrs. Arnold is little altered, and is so - tenderly affectionate and charming, that it is delightful to be - with her. She likes to ask all about you and Holmhurst, and says - that her power of producing mind-pictures and dwelling upon them - often brings you before her, so that she sees you as before, only - older, in your home life. It is quite beautiful to see the intense - devotion of her children to their mother and her happiness in them, - in Fan especially. All the absent ones write to her at least three - times a week. - - "We have just been in a covered car to Rydal Church: how beautiful - the situation! How well I remembered being sick as a child from the - puggy smell of its hideous interior. It was just as puggy to-day, - but I was not sick. There was a most extraordinary preacher, who - declared that the Woman on the seven mountains was Rome on her - seven hills--'allowed to be so by all authorities, Jewish, and even - Romanist,'--that the dragon was only the serpent in its worshipped - form, and that both were identical with the Beast and represented - the pagan religion; that the Woman flying into the wilderness - before the Beast was Early Christianity flying from pagan - persecution, and that when she came back, to St. John's - astonishment she was seated _on_ the Beast, _i.e._, she had adopted - all the pagan attributes, the cross, the mother and - child--well-known objects of worship at Babylon, and Purgatory--a - tenet of pagan Rome!" - - - "_Foxhow, Sept. 14._--My Mother will have thought of this pouring - weather as most unpropitious for the Lake Country, but in reality - it has not signified very much, as each day it has cleared for a - few hours, and the lights and shadows have been splendid. On - Sunday afternoon Edward (Arnold) and I went up Loughrigg. All the - little torrents were swollen by the storms, and the colours of the - dying fern and the great purple shadows on Helm Crag and Bow Fell - were most beautiful. It is a most picturesque bit of mountain, and - it all strikes me, as I remember it did in 1859, as more really - beautiful than anything in Switzerland, though so contracted. - - "Yesterday afternoon we walked to Grasmere, and I stayed looking at - the interesting group of Wordsworth tombs, whilst Edward paid a - visit. Afterwards the lake looked so tempting, that Edward rowed me - down it, sending the boat back by a boy. We landed at the outlet of - the Rotha on the other side, and had a beautiful walk home by a - high terrace under Loughrigg. If one remained in this country, one - could not help becoming fond of Wordsworth, his descriptions are so - exact. Edward has repeated many of his poems on the sites to which - they apply, and they are quite beautifully pictorial. Mrs. Arnold - is very happy in the general revival of interest in his poetry.... - Nothing can be more enjoyable and united than the family life here, - the children and grandchildren coming and going, and so many - interesting visitors. Truly dear Mrs. Arnold's is an ideal old age, - so hedged in by the great love and devotion of her - descendants."[395] - - - "_Dalton Hall, Lancashire, Sept. 17._--I always enjoy being here - with the Hornbys. Yesterday we drove in the morning to Yealand, a - pretty village so called from the Quakers who colonised it. In the - afternoon we went to Levens. It is a lovely country, just upon the - outskirts of the Lake District, with the same rich green meadows, - clear streams, and lanes fringed with fern and holly. We passed - through Milnthorpe, and how well I remembered your shutting me up - and making me learn a Psalm in the inn there, instead of letting me - go out to draw! The country is very primitive still. An old - clergyman who officiated till lately in the neighbouring church of - Burton Moss had only three sermons, one of which was laid in turn - on the pulpit desk by his housekeeper every Sunday morning. When he - had finished, he used to chuck it down to her out of the pulpit. - One of these sermons was on 'Contentment,' and contained--apropos - of discontent--the story of the Italian nobleman whose tombstone - bore the words, 'I was well, I wished to be better, and now I am - here.'" - -It was a great pleasure this autumn to see again in London the New -Zealand Sir George Grey. I remember his saying how he wished some one -would write a poem on Pharaoh pursuing the Israelites to the Red Sea, -from the point of view that in pursuing them he was pursuing -Christianity; that if the Israelites had perished, and not Pharaoh, -there would have been no Redemption. - - - JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_Holmhurst, Oct. 13, 1869._--After the storms of last year, this - summer has been peaceful and quiet. My sweet Mother, though often - ailing, has been very gently and quietly happy. She seems older, - but age has with her only its softening effects--casting a brighter - halo around her sweet life, and rendering more lovable still every - precious word and action.... We are more than ever to each other - now in everything." - -We left home in 1869 on the 14th of October, intending to cross the -Channel at once, but on arriving at Folkestone, found such a raging sea, -that we retreated to Canterbury to wait for better weather. This enabled -us to pay a charming visit to Archdeacon and Mrs. Harrison, who had been -very familiar to us many years before, when the Stanleys lived at -Canterbury. It was the last visit my Mother ever paid, and she greatly -enjoyed it, as it seemed almost like a going back into her Hurstmonceaux -life, a revival of the ecclesiastical interests which had filled her -former existence. Whenever any subject was alluded to, Archdeacon -Harrison, like Uncle Julius, went to his bookcase, and brought down some -volume to illustrate it. Thus I remember his reading to us in the -powerful sermons of Bishop Horsley. One of the most remarkable was upon -the Syro-Phœnician woman. Another is on the French Nuns, in defence -of their institution in England, saying, with little foresight, how -unlikely they were to increase in number, and how very superior they -were to those women "who strip themselves naked to go out into the -world, who daub their cheeks with paint, and plaster their necks with -litharge." - -Apropos of the proverb about Tenterden Steeple and Goodwin Sands, -Archdeacon Harrison described how it was in allusion to two things -totally disconnected. Tenterden Steeple and Goodwin Sands are very far -apart, and of course have no connection whatever: yet perverse persons -used to say that Tenterden Steeple was the cause of Goodwin Sands, as -money which ought to have been used to prevent the accumulation of -Goodwin Sands was diverted to the building of Tenterden Steeple. The -place where you may hear most about it is "Latimer's Sermons." Latimer -is inveighing against the persons who denounced the study of the Bible -as the cause of the misfortunes of the time, and says that they had as -much connection as Tenterden Steeple and Goodwin Sands, and so forth. - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Munich, Nov. 1, 1869._--We made it four days' journey from Paris - to Strasbourg. First we went to Bar-le-duc. I had longed to see it, - from a novel I read once, and it is well worth while--the old town - rising above the new like the old town of Edinburgh--tall grey - houses pierced with eight or ten rows of windows, a river with a - most picturesque bridge, and in the church 'Le Squelette de Bar,' a - wonderful work of Richier, the famous sculptor of S. Mihiel, - commemorating the Princes of Bar (Henri I., II., III., &c.), - sovereigns of whom I wonder if you ever heard before: I never did. - - "We slept next at Toul, where there is a fine huge dull cathedral, - a beautiful creche by Ignace Robert, and a lovely convent cloister - of flamboyant arches. Living at Toul is wonderfully cheap; our - rooms for three were only four francs, and dinner for three four - francs.[396] We wonder people do not emigrate to Lorraine instead - of to Australia; it would be far cheaper, and infinitely more - amusing. If it had been warmer, we should have gone to Domremy and - S. Mihiel, but we feared the cold. We were a day at Nancy: how - stately it is! At Strasbourg we found that the storks had left, and - we thought it the least interesting place on the road, yet most - people stay only there. - - [Illustration: BAR-LE-DUC.[397]] - - [Illustration: BRIDGE OF BAR-LE-DUC.[398]] - - "We had three days at Carlsruhe, and found dear Madame de Bunsen - most bright and well and charming, with much to tell that was worth - hearing, and the fullest sympathy and interest in others. - Generally one feels that conversation weakens the mind; with the - Bunsens it never fails to strengthen it. Madame de Bunsen talked - much of the difficulties which had crowded round her when she - herself was to begin the Memoir of her husband. Bunsen had said to - her, 'You must tell the story of our common life; you are able to - do it, only do not be afraid.' Thus to her the work was a sacred - legacy. First, as material, her son George brought her Bunsen's - letters to his sister Christiana, which she had given to him, and - which he had fortunately never given to his father for fear he - should destroy them. Then she had written to Reck, the early - Göttingen friend and confidant of all Bunsen's early life, and had - been refused all help without any explanation! Then Stockmar, - Brandeis, &c., sent all their letters; thus the work grew. But - there were no journals, she had made no notes, there was only her - recollection to fall back upon. Madame de Bunsen regretted bitterly - the destruction of Uncle Julius's letters by his widow, especially - those written in his early life to his brother Augustus, which - would have been 'the history of the awakening of a new phase of - opinions.' I made quantities of notes from the intensely - interesting reminiscences Madame de Bunsen poured forth of her own - life.[399] - - "We were one day at Stuttgart, which I had never seen, and was - delighted with--so handsome, really a beautiful little capital, and - we reached Munich in time to have one day for the International - Exhibition of Paintings, which was well worth seeing--finer, I - thought, than ours. The German artists have surely far more - originality than the artists of other nations. Three pictures - especially remain in my mind--'The Chase after Luck,' a wild - horseman with Death riding behind him in pursuit of Luck, a - beautiful figure scattering gold and pearls whilst floating on a - bladder, full speed across a bridge which ends in a rotten plank - over a fathomless abyss: 'The Cholera in Rome,' the Angel of Death - leading the Cholera--a hideous old woman--down the street under the - Capitol by moonlight, and showing her the door she is to knock at: - 'L'Enfant qui dort à l'ombre du lit maternel, et les Anges qui - savent d'avance le sort des humains, et baissent avec larmes ses - petites mains.' It is interesting to see how familiar the German - common people are with their artists: the great names of Kaulbach, - Henneberg, &c., are in every mouth; how few of our common people - would know anything of Landseer or Millais!" - - - "_Vicenza, Nov. 14._--The descent into Italy by the Brenner was - enchanting--the exchange of the snow and bitter cold of Germany for - vineyards and fruit-gardens, still glorious in their orange and - scarlet autumnal tints. We were greatly delighted with Botzen, - where the delicately wrought cathedral spire against the faint pink - mountains tipped with snow is a lovely subject. - - [Illustration: MANTUA.][400] - - "At Verona we spent several days, thinking it more captivating than - ever. Mother was able to enjoy the Giusti gardens, and I went one - day to Mantua. It is wonderful. The station is two miles off, and - the drive into the town across an immense bridge over the lake is - most striking[401]--the towers all reflected in the still waters, - and the fishing-boats sailing in close under the houses. Then, in - the town, the intense desolation of one part--courts and corridors - and squares all grass-grown and utterly tenantless--is a striking - contrast to the other part, teeming with life and bustle. The - Palazzo del Té is marvellous--only one story high, gigantic rooms - covered with grand frescoes opening on sunny lawns with picturesque - decaying avenues. I wandered over the vast ducal palace with three - American ladies, who 'guessed' that 'when Mantua was in its prime, - it must have been rather an elegant city.'" - - - "_Hôtel de Londres, Pisa, Dec. 7._--From Verona we went to Vicenza, - where we stayed nearly a week in the old-fashioned palazzo which is - now turned into the Hôtel de la Ville. We found some old Roman - acquaintances there--Mrs. Kuper and her daughter, great Italian - travellers, famous linguists, and excessively amusing companions. - With them I went many delightful walks in the lovely country near - Vicenza, which is quite the ideal Italy one reads so much of and so - seldom sees--splendid mountain background with snowy peaks; nearer - hills golden with decaying chestnuts and crimson with falling - vine-leaves; old shrines and churches half hidden in clematis and - vine, and a most interesting town with a fine - picture-gallery--Montagna (not Mantegna) being the great master. I - took to the plan of trying to make ever so slight sketches from - pictures, and find them, bad as they are, far more interesting than - photographs. We had permission to walk in the lovely gardens of the - old Marchese Salvi, close to the hotel, a great pleasure to the - Mother. - - [Illustration: VICENZA.[402]] - - [Illustration: VICENZA FROM MONTE BERICO.[403]] - - [Illustration: THE PRATO DELLA VALLE, PADUA.[404]] - - [Illustration: SIENA.[405]] - - [Illustration: S. GEMIGNANO.[406]] - - "The Kupers preceded us to Padua and engaged comfortable rooms for - us there, to which we followed. Here was another kind of interest - in the quaint churches; the Prato della Valle with its stone - population; the University, where we went to hear a lecture and saw - the 3000 students assembled; and the society of some pleasant young - Paduans--M. Fava and Count Battistino Medine, introduced by the - Kupers. But alas! Mother became very unwell indeed during the - latter part of our stay at Padua, and I was made very unhappy by - her constant cough and inability to take food. So I was thankful - when we were able to come on to this comfortable hotel, where Flora - and the faithful Victoire are incessant in their attentions. I am - still anxious about my sweet Mother, who is very ailing and unable - to go out; otherwise I always like staying at Pisa, with its clean - quiet streets and the interest of the Campo Santo, so full of - beautiful relics and memories. Many delightful hours have I spent - there, and what a school of art and history it is! And then the - Spina is always so graceful and striking against the crimson sunset - which turns the muddy Arno into a river of fire.[407] Then, only - think, I have made a new friend, and, strange to say, an American, - with the uninteresting name of Robert Peabody. I do not know when, - if ever, I have seen any one I like so much--so clever, so natural, - so unworldly, so large-minded, so good-looking. The Mother thinks - my sudden friendships most fantastic, but I have no doubt about - this one; and as Mother was much better last week, I went away with - him for four days to Siena and S. Gemignano, and we were entirely - happy together, though it poured cats and dogs the whole time, and - thundered and lightened as if the skies were coming down. I do not - think you have ever been half excited enough about Siena: it seems - to me such a sublime place--the way it rises out of that desolate - earthquake-riven country, the cathedral so grandly solemn, and such - a world of interest circling around all the scenes in S. - Catherine's life. I tried to draw the famous Sodoma, and longed to - stay months, but we only did stay two days, and then away we went - in a _baroccino_ over the hills to S. Gemignano. You must never - come to Italy again without going there: I am beginning now to - fancy that no one has seen Italy who has missed S. Gemignano. It is - a perfect sanctuary of art, the smallest town ever seen, but with - thirteen tall mediæval towers in fullest preservation, crowning the - top of the little hill like a huge group of ninepins, and with - churches covered with frescoes by Filippo and Simone Memmi, - Beccafumi, Ghirlandajo, and all that wonderful school. The great - saint of the place is Santa Fina--a poor girl, who had a spine - complaint, lay for years on a backboard, bore her intense - sufferings with great patience, and finally died a most peaceful - and holy death--perhaps the _one_ Roman Catholic saint whose story - is unspoilt by miracles. I first heard about her from Lady - Waterford, and had always longed to see her native place. The - Ghirlandajo fresco of her death is most touching and real, - portraying the bare cottage room, the hard-featured Tuscan nurse, - the sick girl on her backboard--all like a scene in a Tuscan - cottage now; and, above, the angels floating away with their - newly-gained sister. But the people of S. Gemignano forgot the - picture when they quaintly told us that 'all the little flowers and - shrubs were so enchanted with her exemplary patience, that they - began to sprout around her bed, and by her twenty-eighth year (when - she died) she was lying in quite a garden of beautiful flowers.'" - -In recollection I feel grateful for this short absence from my Mother -with Robert Peabody, as it procured for me my last tiny letter from -her--cheerful and tender as all her letters were now. But after the -beginning of December I seldom left her, and the next six weeks were -spent entirely in her room, in watching and cheering her through a time -of great suffering, whilst the rain never ceased to fall in torrents. I -was often able to amuse her with stories of my companions at the -_table-d'hôte_. - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Pisa, Nov. 27._--The chief interest here has been from travellers - in the hotel--a Mr. and Mrs. D., kind, vulgar people, who have - seldom been out of London, except to Paris, and who do not speak a - word of any foreign language; at least Mr. D. does speak certain - words, and uses them all together to all the foreigners he meets, - without any regard to their meaning--'Lait pain thé bongjour - toodyswee;'--a haughty pretty Polish girl and her governess, and a - clever pretty Polish Comtesse de M. with her young husband. The - last lady keeps the whole table alive with her stories, told with - the utmost naïveté, and in the prettiest manner. - - "'I will tell you about my going to Ferrara. When I arrived I was - gasping with hunger. We drove up to the hotel. "Could we have any - dinner?"--"J'en suis désolé, Madame, but the cook is out." We drove - to another. "Could we have any dinner?"--"J'en suis au désespoir, - Madame, mais il n'y a pas de feu." We drove on. Another hotel. We - ordered our dinner, and when it was put on the table, it was so - dreadful, I gave one look and ran out of the room. And then the - sights of Ferrara! We went to the castle. It was horrible--a - ghastly dungeon with bare walls and chains and one glimmering ray - of light. "_This_," said the guide, "was the dungeon of Ugo and - Parisina; here they suffered and here they died." Oh, mon Dieu, - quel horreur! I wished to go somewhere else. They took me to a - convent--again a ghastly room, a fearful prison. "_This_, Madame, - was the prison of Tasso"--encore des horreurs! Oh, then I would - have a carriage. I asked the driver where he would take me. "Ma, - Signora, allo Campo Santo." Ah! quelle triste ville la ville de - Ferrare! But when we got to Bologna, and I asked where we should - go, c'était toujours la même chose--toujours au Campo Santo, and at - Pisa here, it is encore au Campo Santo! - - "'At Ferrara, in the prison of Tasso, they show on the wall an ode - written by Lord Byron. The rest of the wall is white, but the place - where the ode is written is brown. "Why," I asked, "is that part of - the wall brown?"--"Ah!" said the custode, "that is the sweat of the - English. All the English will touch the writing of their - compatriot, and then they perspire from their hot fingers, and thus - it is brown." In the same room is a great hole; the wall has - crumbled away: it is gone: the room will fall. "And what is that?" - I asked. "Ah! that is made by the English, who all insist upon - taking away a morsel of the prison of Tasso." And thus it was at - Verona; when I saw Juliet's tomb, they told me it was only an - imitation; for as for the real one, the English ladies had chopped - it all up and were wearing it in bracelets. Oh, comme c'est - ennuyant de voyager, il faut tourner la tête pour regarder les - tableaux, et on casse le cou par ici: il faut regarder par la - fênetre pour voir la vue, et on casse le cou par là: il faut - regarder au plafond pour voir les fresques, et on casse le cou de - tous les côtés à la fois. And then the journey to Switzerland! - Mais aller en Suisse, jamais! What do you want to see mountains - for? to admire their height? Ah! then how stupid to go up! Why, of - course they become shorter every step you go. No, you should go - into the depths to see the mountains. Les plaines pour moi!... - Jusqu'à mon mariage je ne suis jamais sortie à pied, mais depuis - mon mariage je suis devenue ... raisonable.' - - "I asked the Polish ladies if the language they spoke was Russian. - It was like throwing a bomb into the camp. They detest the - Russians, and would not speak to a pleasant Countess Boranoff, - _née_ Wasilikoff, who has been staying here.... But of all my Pisan - acquaintance there is none like Robert Peabody! He has been at an - atelier in Paris for two years studying as an architect, and had a - charming life there with his fellow-students, making walking tours - in France, &c. When he first went to Paris, he did not know a word - of French, and made out his washing bills by drawing little - pictures, socks, shirts, drawers, &c., and the washerwoman put the - prices opposite them." - -On December 10 occurred the terrible floods of the Arno. - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Pisa, Dec. 11, 1869._--How little you will be able to imagine all - we have been going through in the last twenty-four hours! We have - had a number of adventures in our different travels, but this is by - far the worst that has ever befallen us. Now I must tell you our - story consecutively. - - "For the last three days the Mother has been very ill. On Thursday - she had an attack of fainting, and seemed likely to fall into one - of her long many days' sleep.... The rain continued day and night - in torrents. Yesterday made it three weeks since we arrived, and in - that time there had been only two days in which the rain had not - been ceaseless. The Arno was much swollen: I saw it on Thursday, - very curious, up to the top of the arches of the bridges. - - "Yesterday, Friday, Madame Victoire came to dine with Lea. - Afterwards she came up to see us as usual, and then Flora's - children came to be shown pictures. I think it must have been - half-past three when they took leave of us. Lea went with them down - the passage. Soon she came back saying that little Anna said there - was 'such an odd water coming down the street, would I come and - see,' and from the passage window I saw a volume of muddy water - slowly pouring down the street, not from the Arno, but from towards - the railway station, the part of the street towards Lung' Arno (our - street ends at the Spina Chapel) remaining quite dry. The children - were delighted and clapped their hands. I meant to go and see the - water nearer, but before I could reach the main entrance, in half a - minute the great heavy waves of the yellow flood were pouring into - the courtyard and stealing into the entrance hall.[408] - - "It was as suddenly as that it came upon us. - - [Illustration: THE HÔTEL DE LONDRES DURING THE FLOOD.] - - "The scene for the next half-hour baffles all description. Flora - and her mother stood on the principal staircase crying and wringing - their hands: the servants rushed about in distraction: Lea, pale as - ashes, thought and cried that our last moment was come; and all the - time the heavy yellow waters rose and rose, covering first the - wheels of the omnibus, the vases, the statues in the garden, then - up high into the trees. Inside, the carpets were rising and swaying - on the water, and in five minutes the large pieces of furniture - were beginning to crash against each other. I had rushed at the - first alarm to the _garde meuble_, and (how I did it I cannot - imagine) dragged our great box to the stairs: it was the only piece - of luggage saved from the ground-floor. Then I rushed to the - _salle-à-manger_, and shouting to Flora to save the money in her - bureau, swept all the silver laid out for dinner into a tablecloth, - and got it safe off. From that moment it was a _sauve qui peut_. I - handed down rows of teapots, jugs, sugar-basins, &c., to the maids, - who carried them away in lapfuls: in this way also we saved all the - glass, but before we could begin upon the china, the water was up - to our waists and we were obliged to retreat, carrying off the - tea-urns as a last spoil. The whole family, with Amabile and all - the old servants, were now down in the water, but a great deal of - time was wasted in the belief that a poor half-witted Russian lady - was locked into her room and drowning, and in breaking open the - door; but when at last a panel of the door was dashed in, the room - was found full of water and all its contents swimming about, but - the lady was ... gone out for a walk! - - "As I was coming in from the lower rooms to the staircase with a - load of looking-glasses, a boat crashed in at the principal - entrance, bringing home the poor lady and two other English, who - had been caught by the flood at the end of the street, and had been - for some time in the greatest peril: the boatmen having declined to - bring them the few necessary steps until they had been paid twenty - francs, and then having refused altogether to bring a poor Italian - who had no money to give them. At this moment Madame Victoire - insisted on taking the opportunity of the boat to return to her - own house. It was a dreadful scene, all the women in the house - crying and imploring her to stay, but she insisted on embarking. - She did not arrive without hairbreadth escapes. When she reached - her own house, the current was so strong, and the boat was dashed - so violently against the walls, that it was impossible for her to - be landed; but the flood was less violent beneath her larger house - which is let to the Marchese Guadagna, from which sheets were let - down from the upper windows, and she was fastened to them and - raised: but when she reached the grille of the first-floor windows, - and was hanging half-way, the current carried away the boat, and at - the same moment the great wall opposite S. Antonio fell with an - awful crash. However, the Guadagna family held tight to the sheets, - and Madame Victoire was landed at last, though she fell insensible - on the floor when she entered the window. - - "The walls were now falling in every direction with a dull roar - into the yellow waters. The noise was dreadful--the cries of the - drowning animals, the shrieks of the women, especially of a mother - whose children were in the country, wringing her hands at the - window of an opposite house. The water in our house was rising so - rapidly that it was impossible to remain longer on the side towards - the principal staircase, and we fled to the other end, where - Pilotte, a poor boy in the service, lay dangerously ill, but was - obliged to get up from his bed, and, though quite blind from - ophthalmia, was far more useful than any one else. Since her mother - left, Flora had been far too distracted to think of anything; still - we saved an immense number of things, and I was able to cut down - pictures, &c., floating on a sofa as if it were a boat. The great - difficulty in reaching the things was always from the carpet - rising, and making it almost impossible to get out of the room - again. The last thing I carried off was the 'Travellers' Book!' It - was about half-past 5 P.M. when we were obliged to come out of the - water, which was then terribly cold and above the waist. - - "Meantime the scene in the street was terrible. The missing - children of the woman opposite were brought back in a boat and - drawn up in sheets; and the street, now a deep river, was crowded - with boats, torches flashing on the water, and lights gleaming in - every window. All the thirty poor hens in the hen-house at the end - of the balcony were making a terrible noise as they were slowly - drowned, the ducks and pigeons were drowned too, I suppose, being - too frightened to escape, and many floated dead past the window. - The garden was covered with cushions, chairs, tables, and ladies' - dresses, which had been washed out of the lower windows. There was - great fear that the omnibus horse and driver were drowned, and the - Limosins were crying dreadfully about it; but the man was drawn up - late at night from a boat, whose crew had discovered him on the top - of a wall, and at present the horse exists also, having taken - refuge on the terrace you will remember at the end of the garden, - where it is partially above water. The street was covered with - furniture, great carved wardrobes being whirled down to the Arno - like straws. The cries of the drowning animals were quite human. - - "All this time my poor sweet Mother had been lying perfectly still - and patient, but about 6 P.M., as the water had reached the highest - step of the lower staircase and was still mounting, we had our - luggage carried up to the attics, secured a few valuables in case - of sudden flight (as no boat would have taken luggage), and began - to get Mother dressed. There was no immediate danger, but if - another embankment broke, there might be at any moment, and it was - well to be prepared. Night closed in terribly--pouring rain again, - a perfectly black sky, and waters swelling round the house: every - now and then the dull thud of some falling building, and, from - beneath, the perpetual crash of the furniture and floors breaking - up in the lower rooms. Mother lay down dressed, most of the - visitors and I walked the passages and watched the danger-marks - made above water on the staircase, and tried to comfort the unhappy - family, in what, I fear, is their total ruin. It seemed as if - daylight would never come, but at 6 A.M. the water was certainly an - inch lower. - - "It was strange to return to daylight in our besieged fortress. - There had been no time to save food, but there was one loaf and a - little cheese, which were dealt out in equal rations, and we - captured the drowned hens as the aviary broke up, and are going to - boil one of them down in a tiny saucepan, the only cooking utensil - saved. Every one has to economise the water in their jugs (no - chance of any other), and most of all their candles.... How we are - ever to be delivered I cannot imagine. The railways to Leghorn, - Spezia, and Florence must all be under water." - - - "_Dec. 14._--It seems so long now since the inundation began and we - were cut off from every one: it is impossible to think of it as - only three days. - - "Nothing can be more dreadful than the utter neglect of the new - Government and of the municipality here. They were fully warned as - to what would result if Pisa was not protected from the Arno, but - they took no heed, and ever since the dikes broke they have given - no help, never even consenting to have the main drains opened, - which keeps us still flooded, refusing to publish lists of the - drowned, and giving the large sums sent for distribution in charity - into the hands of the students, who follow one another, giving - indiscriminately to the same persons, whilst others are starving. - On Saturday night there ceased to be any immediate alarm: the fear - was that the Arno might break through at the Spina, which still - stands, and which, being so much nearer, would be far more serious - to us. The old bridge is destroyed. All through that night the - Vicomte de Vauriol and the men of the house were obliged to watch - on the balconies with loaded pistols, to defend their property - floating in the garden from the large bands of robbers who came in - boats to plunder, looking sufficiently alarming by the light of - their great torches. The whole trousseau of the Vicomtesse is lost, - and her maid has 4000 francs in her box, which can still be seen - floating _open_.... But the waters are slowly going down. Many - bodies have been found, but there are still many more beneath the - mud. In the lower rooms of this house the mud is a yard deep, and - most horrid in quality, and the smell of course dreadful. I spend - much of my time at the window in hooking up various objects with a - long iron bed-rod--bits of silver, teacups, even books--in a state - of pulp." - - [Illustration: S. ANTONIO, PISA, DURING THE FLOOD.] - - - "_Dec. 19._--My bulletin is rather a melancholy one, for my poor - Mother has been constantly in bed since the inundation, and cannot - now turn or move her left side at all.... I have also been very ill - myself, with no sleep for many days, and agonies of neuralgia from - long exposure in the water.... However, I get on tolerably, and - have plenty to take off my thoughts from my own pain in attending - to Mother and doing what I can for the poor Limosins.... In the - quarter near this seventy bodies have been found in the mud, and as - the Government suppresses the number and buries them all - immediately, there are probably many more. Our friends at Rome have - been greatly alarmed about us." - - - "_Dec. 27._--Mother has been up in a chair for a few hours daily, - but cannot yet be dressed. The weather is horrible, torrents of - rain night and day--quite ceaseless, and mingled with snow, - thunder, and lightning. It is so dark even at midday, that Mother - can see to do nothing, and I very little. The mud and smell would - prevent our going out if it were otherwise possible. It has indeed - been a dismal three months, which we have all three passed entirely - in the sick-room, except the four days I was away.... Still the - dear Mother says 'we shall have time to recount our miseries in - heaven when they are over; let us only recount our mercies now.'" - - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_33 Via Gregoriana, Rome, Jan. 19, 1870._--You will have heard - from others of our misfortunes at Pisa, of Mother's terrible - illness, and my wearing pains, and in the midst of all this our - awful floods, the Arno bursting its banks and overwhelming the - unhappy town with its mud-laden waves. I cannot describe to you the - utter horror of those three days and nights--the rushing water - (waves like the sea) lifting the carpets and dashing the large - pieces of furniture into bits like so many chips,--the anxious - night-watchings of the water stealthily advancing up step after - step of the staircase,--the view from the upper corridor windows of - the street with its rushing _tourbillon_ of waters, carrying - drowning animals, beds, cabinets, gates, &c., along in a hideous - confusion;--from our windows of the garden one maze of waters - afloat with chairs, tables, open boxes, china, and drowned - creatures;--the sound of the falling walls heavily gliding into the - water, and the cries of the drowning and their relations. And then, - in the hotel, the life was so strange, the limited rations of food - and of water from the washing jugs, and the necessity for rousing - oneself to constant action, and far more than mere cheerfulness, in - order to prevent the poor people of the hotel from sinking into - absolute despair. - - "When the real danger to life once subsided and the poor drowned - people had been carried away to their graves, and the water had - changed into mud, it was a strange existence, and we had still six - weeks in the chilled house with its wet walls, and an impossibility - of going out or having change. However, there is a bright side to - everything, and the utter isolation was not unpleasant to me. I got - through no end of writing work, having plenty also to do in - attending on my poor Mother; and you know how I can never - sufficiently drink in the blessedness of her sweet companionship, - and how entirely the very fact of her existence makes sunshine in - my life, wherever it is. - - "All the time of our incarceration I have employed in writing from - the notes of our many Roman winters, which were saved in our - luggage, and which have been our only material of employment. It - seems as if 'Walks in Rome' would some day grow into a book. Mother - thinks it presumptuous, but I assure her that though of course it - will be full of faults, no book would ever be printed if perfection - were waited for. And I really do know much more about the subject - than most people, though of course not half as much as I ought to - know. - - "One day I was away at Florence, where I saw Lady Anne S. Giorgio - and many other friends in a very short time. How bright and busy it - looked after Pisa. - - "Last week Pisa devoted itself, or rather its priests, to intense - Madonna-worship, because, owing to her image, carved by St. Luke, - the flood was no worse. Her seven petticoats, unremoved for years, - were taken off one by one and exchanged for new, and this delicious - event was celebrated by firing of cannon, processions, and - illuminations all over the town. In the midst, the Arno displayed - its disapproval by rising again violently and suddenly; the utmost - consternation ensued; the population sat up, doors were walled up, - the doll-worshippers were driven out of the cathedral (which lies - very low) at the point of the bayonet by the Bersaglieri under - General Bixio. To _us_, the great result of the fresh fright was, - that the Mother suddenly rose from her bed, and declaring that she - could not stay to endure another inundation, dressed, and we all - set off last Wednesday morning, and arrived at midnight after a - prosperous journey, though the floods were certainly frightful up - to the very walls of Rome. - - "Oh, how glad we were to get here--to feel that after all the - troubles of the last few months we were safe in the beloved, the - home-like city. It is now only that I realise what a time of - tension our stay at Pisa has been. We breathe quietly. Even the - calm placid Mother feels the relief of not having to start up at - every sound and wonder whether 'L'Arno é sbordato.' - - "I always feel as if a special Providence watched over us in - respect of lodgings. It has certainly been so this time, as we - could never have hoped, arriving so late, to obtain this charming - apartment, with full sun, glorious view, and all else we can wish. - You can fancy us, with all our own pictures and books, the mother - in her chair, the son at his drawing-table, and Lea coming in and - out. - - "But on Friday we had a terrible catastrophe. In the evening at the - hotel the poor Mother fell violently upon her head on the hard - stone floor and was dreadfully hurt. You will imagine my terror, - having gone out at 8 P.M., to find every one in confusion on my - return, that Dr. Winslow had been sent for, and that I had been - searched for everywhere. For some hours the Mother was quite - unconscious, and she can still see nothing, and I am afraid it will - be some days before any sight is restored; but all is going on - well, and I am most thankful to have been able to move her to her - own house. - - "Do you know, I am going to renounce the pomps and vanities of the - world this winter and not 'go out' at all. I have often found that - it has rather fatigued Mother even to _hear_ of my going out, and - it is far easier to give a thing up altogether than partially. In - the daytime I can see people. My American friend Robert Peabody is - here, and the most delightful companion, and there are endless - young men artists, quite a colony, and of the pleasantest - description. - - "The weather is very fine, but very cold. I went to-day to St. - Peter's (Il Giorno della Scatola), and the procession was certainly - magnificent. The Bishop who attracts most attention is Monsignor - Dupanloup of Orleans, who at first displayed great courage in - opposing the Infallibility doctrine, but is allowing his opposition - to be swamped. Many of the Bishops are most extraordinary--such a - variety of forms and colours in costume, blue and violet veils, - green robes and hats, and black caps with gold knobs like the - little Shems and Hams in Noah's Ark. But the central figure of Pius - IX. looks more than ever solemn and impressive, the _man_ so lost - in his intense feeling of the _office_, that it is impossible to - associate him, mentally, with the Council and its blasphemies. Of - the Council itself we hear nothing, and there is little general - interest about it. Lord Houghton asked Manning what had been going - on: he answered, 'Well, we meet, and we look at one another, and - then we talk a little, but when we want to know what we have been - doing, we read the _Times_.'" - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Jan. 31._--We have had another anxious week, though once more all - is going on well. On Monday the Mother was well enough to see - visitors, but that night was in terrible suffering, and the next - day had a slight paralytic seizure ... followed by long - unconsciousness; but it was all accounted for the next morning when - we found the roof white with snow. She continued in great suffering - till Friday, when the weather suddenly changed to _scirocco_, and - she at once rallied. That day I was able to have my lecture on the - Quirinal and Viminal--all new ground. There was a large gathering - in spite of weather, so many people had asked to come. I have - yielded to the general wish of the party in arranging weekly - meetings at 10 A.M., but it makes me feel terribly ignorant, - and--in the intervals of tending Mother--I am at work all the week - instructing myself upon the subject of my lecture." - -[Illustration: VIEW FROM THE VIA GREGORIANA.] - - - "_Feb. 19._--The Mother is still sadly weak, and always in an - invalid state, yet she has not the serious symptoms of the winter - you were here. She is seldom able to be dressed before twelve, and - can do very, very little--to read a few verses or do a row of her - crotchet is the outside. I scarcely ever leave her, except for my - lectures. I had one on the Island yesterday. The weather is - splendid and our view an indescribable enjoyment, the town so - picturesque in its blue morning indistinctness, and St. Peter's so - grand against the golden sunsets. As usual, the Roman society is - like the great net which was let down into the deep and brought up - fish of every kind.... The Mother is quite happy and bright in - spite of all her misfortunes, but we have had to feed her like a - bird in her blindness. I wonder if you know the lines of Thomas - Dekker (1601)-- - - 'Patience! why, 'tis the soul of peace; - Of all the virtues, 'tis nearest kin to heaven; - It makes men look like gods. The best of men - That e'er wore earth about Him was a sufferer, - A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit; - The first true gentleman that ever breathed." - - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Rome, Feb. 27._--My life this winter has been one of constant - watching and nursing; the Mother has been so very powerless and - requires such constant care: but she is, oh! so sweet and patient - _always_. You need not pity me for not going out; after the day's - anxiety I find the luxury of the evening's rest so very great. - - "My Friday lectures now take place regularly, and I hope they give - pleasure, as they are certainly crowded. I am amused to see many - ultra-Catholics come time after time, in spite of my Protestant - anecdotes. How I wish the kind Aunt Sophy were here to share these - excursions." - -On the 12th of March I spent a delightful afternoon with a young artist -friend, Henry Florence, in the garden of SS. Giovanni e Paolo, drawing -the gloriously rich vegetation and the old cypresses there. My Mother -was tolerably well, and the air, the sunshine, and the beauty around -were unspeakably enchanting. "I never saw _any one_ enjoy things as you -do," said Florence, and I spoke of my thankfulness for having the power -of putting away anxieties when they were not pressing, and of making the -utmost of any present enjoyment, even though it be to "borrow joy at -usury of pain."[409] "Perhaps it may be the last day," I said. It _was_. -There is an old proverb which says, "The holidays of joy are the vigils -of sorrow." That night my dearest Mother had the terrible paralytic -seizure which deprived her of the use of her left arm and side, and from -which she never recovered. - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Rome, March. 16, 1870._--My darling Mother is to-day in a happy - peaceful state, no longer one of suffering, which is--oh! such rest - to us. She is now able to articulate, so that I always, and others - often, understand her.... I sleep close by upon the floor and never - leave her. On Monday night we were pleasantly surprised by the - arrival of Amabile, the maid from Pisa, who is quite a tower of - strength to us--so kind, gentle, and strong. Mrs. Woodward comes - and goes all day. Every one is kind and sympathising." - - - "_March 23._--Mother talks constantly of Albano and her great wish - to be there amongst the flowers, but for many weeks, perhaps - months, this must be impossible." - - - "_March 28._--It has been the same kind of week, alternately - saddened by the strange phases of illness, or cheered by slight - amendments; but Mother has had many sad nights, always worse than - her days, without rest even for a minute. Her mind is only _too_ - clear. She will translate hymns, 'Abide with me,' &c., into - Italian; the great difficulty is to keep it all in check. From 4 to - 10 P.M. the nervous spasms in the paralysed arm are uncontrollable, - and she can only endure them by holding tight to my arm or Lea's. - All yesterday, however, I was away from her, tending poor young - Sutherland, who has been dreadfully ill at the Hôtel de Londres of - typhoid fever, and who is quite alone and helpless." - - "_April 3._--The Mother goes on very slowly, but I hope has not had - an unpleasant week. She never seems to find the time long, and - always looks equally placid and happy. Physically she is certainly - more comfortable now she is entirely in bed. Her chief trouble is - from the returning vitality of the poor arm; the muscles knot all - round it, and move on slowly by a quarter of an inch at a time, as - the life advances: passing the shoulder was agony, and I dread the - passing the elbow. Meantime, the rest of the arm is an independent - being, acting by its independent muscular action, and is obliged to - be constantly watched, as it will sometimes lay its heavy weight - upon her chest, once clutched her by the throat and nearly - strangled her, at others annoys her by stealing her - pocket-handkerchiefs! She has been able to hear a psalm and some - prayers read aloud every evening, and occupies herself with her own - inexhaustible stores of mental hymns and verses incessantly. Mrs. - Woodward's daily visit is one of her little pleasures, and she has - also seen Mrs. Hall several times. - - "My young cousin Edward Liddell[410] returned lately from Naples, - and on Monday became very ill of fever, pronounced typhoid, and - likely to become typhus and very infectious, so, as he had no one - else to look after him, I have been nursing him ever since. It was - so fortunate for me that Mother was really better at this time, or - I do not know what we could have done, as though he had one good - nurse, she was quite worn out, and there was no other to be - procured. So now we take it in turns, four hours at a time, and I - chiefly at night, when she goes home to her children. I am writing - in the darkened room, where Edward lies powerless, with all his - hair cut off and his head soaked in wet towels, almost unable to - move, and unable to feed himself. I am sorry not to be able to go - out while Marcus Hare is here, and he is much disappointed. He - arrived suddenly from Naples and embraced me as if we were still - children." - - - "_April 10._--My dear Mother is much the same. It has been a - peaceful week with her, though there is no improvement.... The - paralysed arm is quite useless, and has a separate and ungovernable - individuality. This is why she can never be left alone. Its weight - is like a log of lead, and sometimes it will throw itself upon her, - when no efforts of her own can release her. Odd as it sounds, her - only safe moments are when the obstreperous member is tied up by a - long scarf to the post of Lea's bed opposite and cannot injure her. - Mentally, she is always quiet and happy, and I believe that she - never feels her altered life a burden. She repeats constantly her - hymns and verses, for which her memory is wonderful, but she has no - longer any power of attention to reading and no consecutive ideas. - All names of places and people she remembers perfectly. As Dr. - Winslow says, some of the organs of the brain are clearer than - ever, others are quite lost. - - "As the fear of infection caused him to be left alone, I have been - constantly nursing Edward Liddell. All last week his fever - constantly increased, and he was so weak that he could only swallow - drops of strong soup or milk, perpetually dropped into his mouth - from a spoon. Had this been ever relinquished, the feeble flame of - life must have become extinct. Last Monday morning I had gone home - to rest, when the doctor hastily summoned me back, and I found new - symptoms which indicated the most immediate danger; so then, on my - own responsibility, I telegraphed for Colonel and Mrs. Augustus - Liddell (his father and mother), and soon had the comfort of - hearing that they were _en route_. That evening the alarming - symptoms returned with such frightful vehemence that both nurse and - doctor thought it impossible that he could survive the night. Then - and for three nights after I never left Edward for a moment, - bathing his head, feeding him, holding him, and expecting him every - instant to die in my arms, and in the day only I returned to pay - Mother visits. Anything like his sweetness, gentleness, - thankfulness, I never saw in any one, and his perfect readiness for - heaven made us feel that it was the less likely that his life would - be given back to us; and you may imagine, though I had scarcely - known him before, how very close a cousinly tie has been drawn in - these hours of anguish. He received the Sacrament on Thursday. On - Friday there was a very slight improvement, but more delirium. For - four days and nights he lay under a vast poultice of snow, which - had to be replenished as often as it melted, and _making_ snow with - a machine has been perhaps the most laborious part of my duties. - Each night I have watched for the faint streak of dawn, wondering - if he _could_ live till morning, and feeling as if I were wrestling - for his life. Yesterday morning, when I knew his parents were - coming, it was quite an agony of suspense; but they arrived safe, - and I was able to give him up _living_ to his mother's care. I have - had every day to write to Mrs. Fraser Tytler, to whose daughter - Christina he had not been engaged a month, and of whom he has - thought touchingly and incessantly. - - "I am not much knocked up, but thankful even for myself that Mrs. - Augustus Liddell is come, as my cough is so much increased by - having to be so often out on the balcony at night, up to my elbows - in the snow manufacturing. I do not think I could have held out - much longer, and then I do not know what would have become of - Edward." - - [Illustration: NEMI.[411]] - - - "_April 17._--Last Sunday I had so much more cough, and was so much - knocked up with my week's nursing, that kind Lady Marian Alford - insisted on taking me early on Monday in her own carriage to Albano - for change. It was like travelling with the Queen, everything so - luxurious, charming rooms, and perfect devotion everywhere to 'la - gran donna da bene,' her personal charm affecting all classes - equally. - - "Lady Marian had a very pleasant party at Albano, Lord and Lady - Bagot and their daughter, Mr. Story,[412] Miss Boyle,[413] Miss - Hattie Hosmer,[414] and Mr.[415] and Lady Emily Russell. The first - afternoon we drove along the lake to Lariccia, where we went all - over the wonderful old Chigi palace, and then on to the Cesarini - garden at Genzano, overhanging the lake of Nemi. The next morning - we went to the Parco di Colonna and Marino, and then in a - tremendous thunderstorm to Frascati, where we dined in the old - Campana Palace, returning to Rome in the evening. I like Mr. Odo - Russell and his simple massive goodness extremely. I hear that Pius - IX. says of him, 'Non é un buono cattolico, ma é un cattivissimo - protestante.' Miss Hosmer had said to him, 'You're growing too fat: - you ought to come out riding; it will do you no end of good;' to - which he replied in his slow way, 'No, I cannot come out - riding.'--'And why not?' said Miss Hosmer. 'Don't you know,' he - said, 'that I am very anxious to be made an ambassador as soon as - possible, and, since that is the case, I must stay working at - home.' - - "'I like midges, for they love Venice, and they love humanity,' - said Miss Mary Boyle. - - "On Wednesday, finding both my patients better, I acceded to - Marcus's entreaties and went with him and some friends of his to - Tivoli for the day. Most gloriously lovely was it looking! My - companions scrambled round the waterfalls, whilst I sat and what - Robert Peabody calls 'water-coloured' opposite the Cascatelle. In - the evening we went to the Villa d'Este and saw the sun set upon - the grand old palace through its dark frame of cypresses. - - "This morning I went for the first time to see the bishops of the - Council; rather a disappointing sight, though they are a fine set - of old men. Some of the American costumes are magnificent. - - "Monday is the end of Edward's twenty-one days' fever, and I am - still very anxious for the result. As he says, I feel rather, since - the arrival of his parents, like a hen who has nursed a duckling - which has escaped: but I go every day to look at him." - - - "_April 30._--It is no use worrying oneself about the journey yet. - It must always be painful and anxious. On returning to America, Dr. - Winslow's last words to me were, 'Remember, if she has _any_ - fright, _any_ accident, _any_ anxiety, there will be another - seizure,' and in so long a journey this can scarcely be evaded. She - must have more strength before we can think of it. Her own earnest - wish is to go to Albano first, but I dread those twelve miles - extra. We always had this house till May 15, and hitherto there - has been no heat. - -[Illustration: TIVOLI.[416]] - - "On Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, Mother was carried down by two - women in her dressing-gown, wrapped round with shawls, to a little - carriage at the door. They were perfectly still sunny days, no - bronchitis to be caught. The first day we only went round the - Pincio, the second to the Parco di San Gregorio, the third to the - Lateran and Santa Croce: she chose her own two favourite drives. - - - JOURNAL. - - "_May 3, 1870._--Walked with Miss J. Pole Carew and her governess - from the Villa Albani to Sant' Agnese to look for the blood-red - lily, seven feet high, which smells so terribly that no one is able - to pick it. The governess (Miss Nicholson) said how the twisted - palms carried in the Roman Catholic ceremonies seemed to her like a - type of their faith. So much would be beautiful and impressive in - the lives of the martyrs and the memories of the early Church, if, - like the palms, so beautiful when they are first brought to Rome, - they were not twisted and overladen, to the hiding and destruction - of their original character." - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_May 8._--Last Sunday we drove to the Villa Borghese, which is now - in its fullest most luxuriant summer green. When we came back, the - Tombola was taking place in the Piazza del Popolo, so that gate was - closed, and we had to go round by Porta Salara. The slight - additional distance was too much for Mother, so that she has been - unable to be up even in her chair for several days. This will show - you how weak she is: how terrible the return journey is to look - forward to. - - "She certainly never seems to realise her helplessness, or to find - out that she can no longer knit or do the many things she is - accustomed to.... She likes hearing Job read, because of the - analogy of sufferings, but she does not _at all_ admire Job as a - model of patience! Hymns are her delight, and indeed her chief - occupation. She has great pleasure in the lovely flowers with - which our poorer friends constantly supply us, especially in the - beautiful roses and carnations of the faithful Maria de Bonis (the - old photograph woman), who is as devoted as ever." - - - "_May 15._--The weather has been perfect. In all our foreign or - home experience I do not recollect such weeks of hot sunshine, yet - never oppressive; such a delicious bracing air always. The flowers - are quite glorious, and our poor people--grateful as only Italians - are--keep the sick-room constantly supplied with them. - - "But, alas! it has been a very sad week nevertheless, and if I once - allowed myself to think of it, my heart would sink within me. My - dearest Mother has been so very, _very_ suffering; in fact, there - have been very few hours free from acute pain, and, in spite of her - sweet patience and her natural leaning towards only thanksgiving, - her groans and wails have been most sad and the flesh indeed a - burden.... You will easily imagine what it is to me to see this - state of intense discomfort, and to be able to do nothing to - relieve it; for I am quite convinced that nothing can be done, that - medicine must be avoided as much as possible in her worn-out - system, and that we must trust entirely to the effect of climate - and to a returning power of taking nourishment. Dr. Grigor told her - that it was a case of most suffering paralysis, usually producing - such dreadful impatience that he wondered at her powers of - self-control. But from my sweetest Mother, we never hear one word - which is not of perfect patience and faith and thanksgiving, - though her prayers aloud for patience are sometimes too touching - for us to bear. She has not been out for ten days, as she has - really had no strength to bear the lifting up and down stairs, and - she has seen nobody except our dear Mrs. Woodward and Mary - Stanley." - - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Rome, May 22, 1870._--The Mother can recover no power in her lost - limbs, in which she has, nevertheless, acute pain. Yet, deprived of - every employment and never free from suffering, life is to her one - prolonged thanksgiving, and in the sunshine of her blessed state of - outpouring gratitude for the silver linings of her clouds, it is - not for her nurses to repine. In her case daily more true become - the lines of Waller-- - - 'The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, - Lets in new light through chinks that time has made.' - - But when even her short excursions to the Pincio or Villa Borghese - produce the most intense exhaustion, no stranger can imagine how we - can dream of attempting the immense homeward journey. Still, - knowing her wonderful power of will and what it _has_ accomplished, - I never think anything impossible, and all minor details of - difficulty become easier when one has a fixed point of what must - be. We shall at any rate try to reach Florence, and then, if she - suffers seriously and further progress is quite impossible, we - shall be on the way to Lucca or Siena. If we ever do reach - Holmhurst, of course it will be for _life_, which makes the leaving - this more than second home very sad to me. - -[Illustration: BRACCIANO.[417]] - - "I have had many pleasant friends here this winter, especially the - Pole Carews, who are a most charming family. Latterly also I have - seen much of Mrs. Terry, who is a very interesting and delightful - person. Since the world has drifted northwards, I have seen more of - the few friends who remain, and with the Terrys have even - accomplished a very old desire of going to Bracciano. It is a - beautiful drive across the Campagna, and then comes the ascent into - the steep old town, and under the many gates and fortalices of the - castle, to a courtyard with painted loggias. Armed with an order - from Princess Odescalchi, we went all over the rooms with their - curious ugly old pictures and carving, and sat in the balconies - looking down upon the beautiful transparent Bracciano lake, twenty - miles in circumference, all the mountains reflected as in a mirror. - Mrs. Terry is charming: after we had talked of sad subjects she - said--'But we have spoken enough of these things; now let us talk - of butterflies and flowers.' In spite of all other work, I have - sold £75 worth of sketches this winter, chiefly old ones, so am - nearly able to pay our rent." - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Rome, May 26, 1870._--The Mother is better for the great heat, - thermometer standing at 85°, but Rome always has such a fresh air - that heat is never overpowering, and in our delightful apartments - we never suffer, as we can have so much variety, and if Mother does - not go out, she is moved to the balcony overhanging the little - garden at the back, where she sits and has her tea under a - vine-covered pergola. If we are permitted to reach Holmhurst, I - fear _all_ will not be benefit. I much dread the difficulty there - will be in keeping Lea from being wholly engrossed again by - household affairs, and I cannot see how Mother _could_ do without - her almost constant attendance, which she has now. Also, we shall - greatly miss the large bedroom opening into a sitting-room, where I - can pursue my avocations, able to be with her at the faintest call, - and yet not quite close to the groans.... But all this is long, - long looking forward: there seems such a gulf between us and - England.... Yet we think of attempting the move next week, and on - Friday sent off six large boxes with the accumulations of many - years, retaining also a list of what must be sent back if we never - reach England. - - "The Signorina and Samuccia, Clementina and Louisa, Rosina and - Madame da Monaca, have all been to say good-bye, and all kiss - Mother with tears on taking leave, overcome by her helpless state - and sweet look of patience." - -[Illustration: GRAVE OF AUGUSTUS W. HARE, ROME.] - - - "_May_ 29.--Emmie Penrhyn's letter was an especial pleasure to the - Mother, and what she said of the centurion's servant, grievously - 'tormented.' Certainly _she_ is grievously tormented. The pain - really never ceases, and the individual motion of the helpless arm - is terrible.... I think with misery of the disappointment the - return to Holmhurst will be to her. She cannot realise that it will - not be, as it has always been, the home of her _well_ months, talks - of how she shall 'frolic out into the garden,' &c. I feel if we - ever reach it, it is going, not to England, but to Holmhurst for - _life_.... We have been to the cemetery under Caius Cestius, and - the sentinel allowed her little carriage to pass across the turf, - so that she was able to look once more upon the well-known grave, - embosomed in its roses and aloes. Yesterday we went to take leave - of the old Miss Haigs at their beautiful villa. The three old - ladies embraced Mother, and presented her, like three good fairies, - one with roses, another with geraniums, and the third with two ripe - strawberries." - - - "_Florence, June 1._--Monday was a terribly fatiguing day, but - Mother remained in bed, and was very composed, only anxious that - nothing should occur to prevent our departure, and to prove to us - that she was well enough. At five Mrs. Woodward came and sat by her - whilst Lea and I were occupied with last preparations. At 7 P.M. - Mother was carried down and went off in a little low carriage with - Mrs. Woodward and Lea, and I followed in a large carriage with Miss - Finucane and the luggage. There was quite a collection of our - poorer friends to see Mother off and kiss hands. At the railway the - faithful Maria de Bonis was waiting, and she and Mrs. Woodward - stayed with Mother and saw her carried straight through to the - railway _coupé_ which was secured for us. We felt deeply taking - leave of the kindest of friends, who has been such a comfort and - blessing to us, certainly, next to you, the chief support of - Mother's later years. 'Oh, _how_ beautiful it will be when the - gates which are now ajar are quite open!' were her last words to - Mother. - -[Illustration: FROM THE LOGGIA DEI LANZI.[418]] - - "The carriage was most comfortable.... Mother slept a little, and - though she wailed occasionally, was certainly no worse than on - ordinary nights. The dawn was lovely over the rich Tuscan valleys, - so bright with corn and vines, tall cypresses, and high villa - roofs. She was carried straight through to a carriage, and soon - reached the succursale of the Alleanza, where the people know us - and are most kind. In the afternoon she slept, and I drove up to - Fiesole, where I had not been for twelve years, with Mr. and Mrs. - Cummings, American friends." - - - "_Bologna, June 5._--I fear, after my last, you will be grievously - disappointed to hear of us as no farther on our way. We can, - however, only tell from hour to hour how soon we may be able to get - on, and I find it entirely useless to make plans of any kind, as we - are sure not to be able to keep them. On Tuesday a great - thunderstorm prevented our leaving Florence, and on Wednesday and - Thursday Mother was in such terrible suffering that it was - impossible to think of it. On Friday evening there was a rally, and - we came on at once, Mrs. Dallas helping us through the difficulties - of the Florence Station, and Mr. and Mrs. Cummings following us - here. I think I mentioned that Dr. Grigor said travelling at night, - when there was no sun, was the only chance of her reaching England - alive. Mother begs I will tell Charlotte that 'No words can - describe her sufferings or my anxieties, but that she has been - brought through wonderfully hitherto, and that she still hopes to - reach England--_in time_.'" - - - JOURNAL. - - "_Bologna, June 5._--Mr. Cummings says the great Church of S. - Petronio here reminds him of the great Church universal--so vast - the space, and so many chapels branching off, all so widely divided - that in each a separate sermon and doctrine might be preached - without distressing its neighbour, while yet all meet in the - centre in one common whole, the common Church of Christ. - -[Illustration: PIAZZA S. DOMENICO, BOLOGNA.[419]] - - "An old American lady in the train had passed a summer at - Vallombrosa. She said it was a place where to live was _life_ and - where one could be happy when one was _unhappy_." - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Susa, June 8, 1870._--The Mother continued in a most terribly - suffering state all the time we were at Bologna--agonies of pain - which gave no rest. Yesterday afternoon it was so intense that she - implored me to try the railway as a counter-irritant, and we set - off at half-past ten at night. But the train shook fearfully, and - the journey was absolute torture to her. We have never had such a - painful time. Lea and I were obliged to sit on the floor by turns, - holding the poor hand, and trying to animate her courage to bear - up, but her cries were terrible. We reached Turin at 5 A.M., where, - in spite of all promises to the contrary, she had to be carried all - round the station; but fortunately for the next hour the train was - easier and she suffered less. She was carried by two men out of the - station, and down the wet muddy road here, where she has a good - room, and soon fell asleep from exhaustion. We arrived at 6.30 - A.M., and shall stay till to-morrow morning. Her state is certainly - one of incomparably more suffering than at Rome, and she feels the - change of climate dreadfully." - - - "_Aix-les-Bains, June 9._--Last night, to my great relief, Colonel - and Mrs. Cracroft and Miss Wilson arrived at Susa, and were the - greatest possible help to us. We had obtained a _permesso_ for the - Mother to be taken straight through to the Fell railway carriage, - and her little procession started at 7 A.M., and she was carried - from her bed to her seat in the railway. The Cracrofts sat all - round us in the carriage, which was much better than strangers, and - Miss Wilson was most kind in keeping her hands bathed with eau de - Cologne, &c. She suffered much for the first two hours, but the - train was wonderfully smooth and easy, so that really the dreaded - Mont Cenis was the least distressing part of the journey. About the - middle of the pass she revived a little, and noticed the flowers, - which were lovely--such gentianellas, auriculas, large golden - lilies, &c. At S. Michel she bore the being carried about - tolerably, so we were able to come on here, and arrived about four. - Mother desires I will say to Charlotte, 'Hitherto the Lord hath - helped me.'" - - - "_Macon, June 12._--No farther on our way than this. Mother was - rather less suffering on Friday, and she bore the move from Aix and - the dreaded change at Culoz better than we expected, but in the - latter part of our four hours' journey she was fearfully exhausted, - and arrived here (at the hotel looking out on the Saone and the - wide-stretching poplar plains) in a sad state.... It is impossible - to move on yet. - - "Yesterday, while she was sleeping, I drove to Cluny, the queen of - French abbeys. A great deal is left, and it is a most interesting - and beautiful place. I also saw Lamartine's little château of - Monceaux, described in his 'Confidences.' All his things and his - library were being sold under the chestnut-trees in front of the - house. I just came up in time to buy the old apple-green silk - quilt[420] from the bed of his saint-like mother, described in 'Le - Manuscrit de ma Mère.'" - - [Illustration: CLUNY.[421]] - - - "_Montbard, June 13._--Mother was so anxious to attempt coming on, - that we left Macon at half-past eleven to-day, arriving here at - four. To our dismay, when she had been taken out of the carriage - and laid flat upon the platform, and the train had gone off, we - found the station hotel closed. However, she was well carried on a - chair down a lane to the so-called Hôtel de la Poste--an - old-fashioned farm-house in a garden of roses; everything clean, - pretty, and quaint; no sound but cocks and hens crowing and - cackling; delicious farm-house bread, butter, and milk. Montbard is - the place where Buffon lived in a very picturesque old château and - gardens. Mother seems revived by the intense quiet and fresh - country air. The old landlord and his wife are quite pictures--such - clever, kind old faces, reminding one of La Sarte in 'Citoyenne - Jacqueline.'" - -[Illustration: CLOISTER OF FONTENAY.[422]] - - - "_Paris, June 14._--This morning was like a respite! Mother lay so - quiet that I was actually able to draw as in the old days, which - now seem in the far distance; and I took a little carriage to the - lovely cloistered château of Fontenay, which I had long wished to - see, and where I had luncheon with the charming owner, Madame de - Montgolfier, and her two sons, people who own immense factories in - the valley and devote their whole lives to the good of their - workpeople. On my return I found Mother so far better that we could - prepare her for the one o'clock express. She had a bath-chair to - the station, and bore it well; but she was terribly tried by the - five hours' journey, and being very ill carried at Paris, arrived - at the hotel utterly prostrated. We _hope_ to go on to-morrow, but - all is most uncertain." - - - "_Dover Station, June 16._--We are here, with intense thankfulness. - Mother looked so ill and aged this morning we did not hope to move - her, but she had a sudden rally in the middle of the day, so at 6 - P.M. we were able to prepare her, and had her carried through the - station to a carriage before the mob of people came.... We dreaded - arriving at Calais, but she was carried in an arm-chair to the - steamer, which was fortunately at the near quay and no steps. Of - course our little procession was the last to arrive, and every - place was taken; but Miss Charlotte Cushman,[423] who had - comfortably established herself in the cabin, with a calm dignity - which is irresistible at once directed the men to put Mother down - in her place, and went up on deck. - - "The sea was like glass--lovely moonlight and sunrise, and we - seemed to be at Dover before we left Calais. A sailor carried - Mother in his arms to the railway carriage, in which we were - allowed to go as far as the station platform, and here we are. A - porter has fetched cups of tea, and we have four hours to wait. - - "We shall be glad of a visit from you as early as you like to come - next week. I should not like you to defer coming long, as, though I - have no _special_ cause for apprehension, still in Mother's - critical state every day is precious. You will find her terribly - altered in all respects, though the mind and memory are quite clear - _at the moment_. None of her doctors give any hope whatever of - amendment; but you will understand the position much better when - you see it, only I am anxious that you should help me to face what - is inevitable, instead of striving after what cannot be. Let us - seek to alleviate suffering, not struggle after an impossible cure - which may hasten the end." - - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Holmhurst, June 17._--I know you will truly rejoice with and - _for_ us that we have arrived in safety, and that my poor suffering - Mother has her great wish of seeing her little home once more. You - will imagine what the journey has been, as she is now utterly - helpless, nearly blind, and never free from acute suffering in the - spine and arm, which is often agony. At Rome it was generally - thought quite impossible that she could survive the journey, and - nothing but her faith and patience, and her self-control, have - enabled us to get through it. We never could make a plan, but just - seized the happy moment when she was a shade better, and at once - pushed on a step. She was, of course, carried everywhere, and - people were wonderfully kind; we had always somebody to go with us - and smooth the difficulties of the railway stations--either old - friends or people who were at my lectures at Rome and met us - accidentally. - - "When we arrived, all the old servants were terribly overcome to - see their beloved mistress carried in so changed and helpless. She - is still very ill, but unspeakably thankful to be here, and to feel - that the journey is done. My life is, and must continue to be, one - of constant watching." - - - "_July 21._--Our letters are now our only intercourse with the - world beyond the gates of Holmhurst, which I never leave; but - indeed I can seldom leave the house before 8 P.M., when I walk - round the fields while Mother is prepared for the night. Though it - is now the only thing I ever think of, it is very difficult to - occupy and cheer her days, for she cannot bear any consecutive - reading. Sometimes I read, and tell her what I have read as a kind - of story. She is seldom up before 3 P.M., and then is carried down - to the lawn in her dressing-gown, and up again at four, when she is - sometimes able to look at a book for a few minutes. That which is - oftenest in her hand is the little 'Invalid's Friend' which you - gave her, and she desires me to tell you how often she finds - comfort in it.... For the last fortnight we have been entirely - alone, which has been really best for her, as, though she has - enjoyed seeing those she loved, each _departure_ has made her - worse. - - "I write much at my 'Walks in Rome' in her room, and my ancient - history is so imperfect I have plenty to study, which acts as a - sort of mental tonic." - - - _From my_ JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_June 26._--My darling often _talks_ to me in her hymns. To-night, - when I left her, she said with her lovely sweetness, 'Good-night, - darling. - - "Go, sleep like closing flowers at night, - And Heaven your morn will bless."' - - "'I never wish to leave you,' she said the other day. 'I never wish - for death; always remember that. I should like to stay with you as - long as I can.' And another day, 'I must call you "my - daughter-son," as Mrs. Colquhoun did hers: as long as I have you, I - suppose I can bear anything; but if you were taken away, or if I - had never had you, my life would be indeed desolate: I could not - have lived on.... I try so not to groan when you are here, you must - not grudge me a few groans when you are out of the room.'" - - - "_July 18._--'I had such a sweet dream of your Aunt Lucy last - night. I thought we were together again, and I said, "How I do miss - you!" and she said she was near me. I suppose I had been thinking - of-- - - "Saints in glory perfect made - Wait thine escort through the shade." - - I think perhaps I had been thinking of that. Dear Aunt Lucy, how - she would have grieved to see me now!'" - - - "_July 19._--'Yes, I know the psalms; many in your Uncle Julius's - version too. Many a time it keeps me quiet for hours to know and - repeat them. I should never have got through my journey if I had - not had so many to repeat and to still the impatience.'" - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Holmhurst, July 31, 1870._--I continue to work on steadily at my - book in the sick-room. I have just got Murray's Roman Handbook, and - am amazed to see how much better it is than I expected; but I am - glad I have not seen it before, as, though I have already given - even all his newest information, I have told it so _oddly_ - differently. - - "The sweet Mother continues much the same. She is carried out each - fine afternoon to sit for an hour near the weeping ash-tree on the - lawn, and enjoys the sunshine and flowers.... In this quiet garden, - and never going beyond the gates, everything seems very _far_ off, - and I am beginning to have quite a sympathy with the hermits, and - to wonder the race does not continue: it is certainly more - reasonable than that of the monks. A great peace seems to have - fallen upon us. As I see my helpless Mother's quiet happiness, and - share it, I think of Richard Crashaw's lines-- - - 'How many unknown worlds there are - Of comforts, which Thou hast in keeping! - How many thousand mercies there - In Pity's soft lap lie a-sleeping! - Happy she who has the art - To awake them - And to take them - Home, and lodge them in her heart.'" - - - _From my_ JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_August 8._--It is inexpressibly touching to me how Mother now - seems to have an insight into my past feelings which she never had - before, and to understand and sympathise with childish sufferings - which she never perceived at the time, or from which she would have - turned aside if she had perceived them. To-day, after her dinner, - she said most touchingly, watching till every one went away and - calling me close to her pillow--'I want to make my confession to - you, darling. I often feel I have never been half tender enough to - you. I feel it now, and I should like you to know it. You are such - a comfort and blessing to me, dearest, and I thought perhaps I - might die suddenly, and never have told you so. I cannot bear your - being tied here, and yet I do not know how I could do without you, - you are so great a blessing to me.' - - "And oh! in the desolate future what a comfort these few words will - contain! But I said--'No, darling, I am not tied: you know it is - just what I like. I know you could not do without me, but then I - could not do without you, so it is just the same for both of us.'" - - - - "_August 26._--To-day is the anniversary of my adoption, what - Mother used to call my Hurstmonceaux birthday. She remembered it - when I went to her, and said touchingly--'God be thanked for having - given me my child, for having preserved him, for having - strengthened him. May he live to His glory, and may I die to His - praise.... Pray that He may forgive the past, watch over the - present, and guide the future.' Later she said--'It is very seldom - that a woman's future is settled at thirty-five, as mine was. I was - not only a widow, but my adopting a child showed to all the world - that I should never marry again.... I can only make a meditation,' - she said; 'I have no strength to make a prayer.... I have long been - obliged to pray in snatches--in moments.... I am so glad that I - know so many psalms, hymns, and collects; they are such a comfort - to me now. I could think of nothing more, but these I dwell - upon.... Sometimes when I can think of nothing else I take the - Lord's Prayer, and lie still to make a meditation upon each - separate clause.' When I left her at night she said - fervently--'Good-night, my own dear love, my blessing: may I be - your blessing, as you are mine.'" - -In our quiet life, the news of the war in France, the siege of Paris, -&c., reached us like far-off echoes. My mother cared little to hear of -it, but shared with me in anxiety as to the fate of the excellent people -we had so lately left at Montbard and Fontenay, which were overrun by -the Prussians. On September 8 the Empress Eugenie took refuge at -Hastings, and two days after walked up the hill past our gate. She was -joined at Hastings by the Prince Imperial. I little thought then that I -should afterwards know him so well. - - JOURNAL. - - "_Sept. 10, 1870._--Lea has just been saying, 'You may go and count - the trees to-day, for I've nothing for you for dinner. The - butcher's never been, good-for-nothing fellow! he's gone gawking - after that Empress, I'll be bound.'" - -Almost all my Mother's nieces and many old friends came to see her in -the summer, generally staying only two or three days, but her dear -cousin, Charlotte Leycester, came for the whole of September. While she -was here at Holmhurst I was persuaded to go away for two days, and went -to see Dean Alford at his cottage of Vine's Gate in the Kentish Hills. -He was more charming than ever, and more eccentric, never wearing -stockings, and shoes only when he went out. I was miserable, in my short -absence, with anxiety, which cost me far more than the refreshment of -change could replace; but I was led to go to see the Dean by one of -those strange presentiments for which I have never been able to account. -It was my last sight of this dear friend, with whom I have been more -really intimate than with perhaps any one else, in spite of the great -difference of age and position. Dean Alford died in the following -winter, but it was at a time when, in my own intense desolation, all -minor sorrows fell dumb and dead. But his grave, in St. Martin's -Churchyard at Canterbury, is always a very sacred spot to me. - -[Illustration: ST. MARTIN'S, CANTERBURY.] - -[Illustration: Henry Alford - -Dean of Canterbury.] - -I must record a visit which we received soon after my return home, as it -led to a friendship which was one of the great pleasures of many -following years. One morning, as I was sitting in my Mother's room as -usual, a card with "Mrs. Grove, Oakhurst," was brought up to me, and, as -I opened the drawing-room door, I saw an old lady with the very -sweetest and dearest face I ever set eyes upon, in a primitive-looking -hat and apron, and with a basket on her arm, and I fell in love with her -at once. She came often afterwards to see my Mother, who greatly -appreciated her; and after my Mother's sweet life passed away, it is -difficult to say how much of my home interest was associated with -Oakhurst, with the ready sympathy and old-fashioned knowledge of this -dear Mrs. Grove, and with her daughter, Mrs. Baillie Hamilton, and her -two grand-daughters, now Mrs. Spencer Smith and Mrs. Hamilton Seymour. -Alas! as I write this,[424] the dear Mrs. Grove, in her great age, is -herself rapidly fading heavenwards--but so gently, so surrounded by the -love which her own loving-kindness has called forth, that death is -indeed coming as a friend, gently and tenderly leading her into the -visible presence of the Saviour, in whose invisible presence she has so -long lived and served. - - JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_Holmhurst, Oct. 20, 1870._--Mother said to-day, 'I always think - that walking through the Roman picture-galleries is like walking - through the Old and New Testament with the blessed company of - apostles and martyrs beside one.... I am so fond of that prayer - "for all sorts and conditions of men," not only for my invalid - state, but it is _all_ so appropriate to the present time--the - petition for peace and unity, &c.'" - - - "_Oct. 23, Sunday._--'Alas! another Sunday in bed,' said Mother - this morning. - - "'But, darling, you need not regret it; all the days are Sundays to - you.' - - "'Yes; but to-day I woke early, and have said all my little Sunday - hymns and psalms.' - - "Truly with her, 'Les prières de la nuit font la sérénité du - jour.'"[425] - - - "_Oct. 26._--'My dear child is never cross to me, _never_; and - always appears just at the very moment I want anything.'" - - - _To_ MISS WRIGHT. - - "_Holmhurst, Oct. 28, 1870._--I am so glad you have been here, and - can fancy our perfectly quiet, eventless life, the coming and going - in the Mother's sick-room, and her gentle happiness in all the - little pleasures which are spared to her. Since you were here she - has been not so well, from the wet and cold, I suppose, the sight - dimmer and the other powers weaker; but the symptoms are ever - varying, and, when it is thus, I almost never leave her--watch her - sleeping and try to amuse her waking. - - "To-day my absent hour was sadly engaged in attending the funeral - of my dear old friend, Mrs. Dixon,[426] who died quite peacefully - last Saturday, a long illness ending in two days of merciful - unconsciousness. She was buried at Ore, in Emma Simpkinson's grave. - Many deeply mourn her, for few were more sincere and cordial, more - affectionate and sympathising." - - - JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_Nov. 1, 1870._--My darling has had two months of comparative - freedom from pain, with many hours of real pleasure, in which she - was often carried down and sat out in her bath-chair amongst the - flower-beds in the sunshine. Sitting under the ash-tree shade, she - has been able to see many friends--Mrs. Wagner, Mrs. Grove, old - Mrs. Vansittart Neale at ninety, and Lady Waldegrave. Charlotte - Leycester was here for six weeks, and the Mother was then so far - better that it was a great source of enjoyment to both the cousins. - Since then she has ailed more frequently, and has had occasional - recurrence of the old pain in her arm. I have sat constantly - writing in her room, laying aside 'Walks in Rome' for a time, and - devoting myself to writing the Family Memorials. For the dear - Mother has wished me to continue the work she began long ago of - writing the life of Augustus and Julius Hare. I represented that, - as one of these died before I was born, and I had never appreciated - the other as she had done, it would be impossible for me to do - this, unless she would permit me to make her, who had been the - sunshine of my own life, the central figure of the picture. At - first she laughed at the idea, but, after a day or two, she said - that, as, with the sole exception of Charlotte Leycester, all who - had shared her earlier life had passed away, she could not oppose - my wish that the simple experience of her own life, and God's - guidance in her case, might, if I thought it could be so, be made - useful for others. And, as she has accustomed herself to this - thought, she has lately taken real pleasure in it. She laughs at - what she calls my 'building her mausoleum in her lifetime,' but has - almost grown, I think, to look upon her own life and her own - experience as if it were that of another in whom she was - interested, and to read it and hear it in the same way. She has - given me many journals and letters of various kinds which I might - use, and has directed the arrangement of others. I have already - written the two earliest chapters of her married life, and read - most of them to her, but she stopped me at last, saying that they - interested her too deeply. She frequently asks now--'Are you - writing the Memorials, or only "Walks in Rome"?' and it is a proof - how clear her understanding still is, that some weeks ago she - wisely directed me, if the work was ever carried out, to evade all - wearying discussion by consulting no one, and that I should on no - account show it to any one of the family, especially the Stanleys, - till it was finished, when they might judge of it as a _whole_. - - "Sometimes the dear Mother has herself been able to write some of - her 'Ricordi,' as she calls them, and, with her trembling hand, has - filled a whole little volume with the recollections of her youth, - but this has often been too much for her.... After her tea at four - o'clock, I have generally read some story to her till she has gone - to bed, and after that a chapter and some hymns. There is a passage - in one of George Eliot's autobiographical sonnets, in which, - referring to her mother, she speaks of 'the benediction of her - gaze'; how often have I experienced this!" - - - "_Nov. 4._--Last night I read to the Mother Luke xvii. and a hymn - on 'Rest' which she asked for. When I was going to wish her - good-night she said--'I do hope, darling, I am not like the - ungrateful lepers. I try to be always praising God, but I know that - I can never praise Him enough for His many, many mercies to me.' I - could not but feel, in the alarm afterwards, if my dearest Mother - never spoke to me again, what beautiful last words those would have - been, and how characteristic of her. Oh, goodness in life brings us - near to God: not death! not death! - - "At 2 P.M. I was awakened by the dreadful sound which has haunted - me ever since the night of March 12 in the Via Gregoriana--of Lea - rushing along the passage and flinging open the door--'Come - directly'--no time for more words--and of running through the dark - gallery and finding the terrible change--another paralytic - seizure--calling up John and sending him off to Battle for the - doctor, and kneeling by the bedside, consoling her if possibly - conscious, and watching for the faint dawn of visible life, that - the first words might be tender ones, the first look one of love, - ... and it was so--that my darling's first words were something - tender, indefinite, but spoken to me. The entire unconsciousness - was not long. When the doctor arrived the face was almost natural, - but he saw that it had been a regular seizure. By 8 A.M. she was - nearly herself again, and anxious to know what could have happened. - She had been frightened by seeing the doctor. She appeared to have - no pain, and there is no additional injury to the powers. To-day - has been a constant watching, rather a warding off from her of any - possible excitement than anything else.... In all the anguish of - anxiety, I cannot be thankful enough for what we have, especially - the freedom from pain." - - - "_Nov. 9._--No great change--a happy painless state, the mind very - feeble, its power gone, but peaceful, loving, full of patience, - faith, and thankfulness." - - - "_Nov. 16._--And since I wrote last, the great, the most - unutterable desolation, so long looked for, so often warded off, - has come upon me. Oh! while they can still be attained, let me - gather up the precious fragments that remain. - - "On Thursday the 10th my darling was much better, though her mind - was a little feeble. I felt then, as I feel a thousand times now, - how extraordinary people were who spoke of the trial my darling's - mental feebleness would be to me. It only endeared her to me a - thousandfold--her gentle confidence, her sweet clinging to me to - supply the words and ideas which no longer came unsought, made her - only more unspeakably lovable. On that day I remember that my - darling mentioned several times that she heard beautiful music. - This made no impression on me _then_. - - "Friday the 11th, I sat, as usual, all morning in her room - correcting my book. I forget whether it was that morning or the - next that my darling on waking from sleep said that she had had - such a pleasant dream of her childhood and Adderley and 'old Lady - Corbet,' who first taught her to 'love what was beautiful.'[427] At - 2 P.M. Mother was up, and sat in her arm-chair by the fire. She was - partly dressed, and wore her pretty old-fashioned cap with the - strings tied in a bow on the top of the head, and a little red - cloak which Miss Wright had given her: I remember thinking she - looked so pretty, and telling her so. I was out at first, while she - wrote a little letter to Fanny Tatton,[428] and talked to Lea about - the texts she had been reading. At four, she had her tea, and then - I sat at her feet, and my darling talked most sweetly about all the - places she had admired most in her life--of Llangollen in her - childhood, and of Capel Curig, of her visit to Rhianva, and of many - places abroad, Narni with its woods and river, and more especially - Villar in the Vaudois, of which I had been making a drawing, which - she had desired to have set up that she might look at it. Then she - asked to have one of her old journals read, and I read one of Rome, - and she spoke of how much happiness, how many blessings, she had - connected with Rome also, though much of suffering. She was - especially bright and sunny. I remember saying to her playfully, - 'Take a little notice of me, darling; you do not take enough notice - of me,' and her stroking my head and saying, 'You dear child,' and - laughing. - - "At six o'clock my sweetest one was put to bed. - - "Afterwards I read to her a chapter in St. Luke--'Let this cup pass - from me,' &c., and sat in her room till half-past nine. When I went - downstairs I kissed her and said, 'Have a good _good_ night, - darling.' I cannot recollect that she spoke, but I remember looking - back as I opened the door, and seeing my sweet Mother lying on her - side as she always did, and her dear eyes following me with a more - than usually tender expression as I left the room. - - "I have often thought since of a sentence in Carlyle's 'Life of - Sterling'--'Softly, as a common evening, the last of our evenings - passed away, and no other would come to me for evermore.' - - "When I went upstairs again at half-past ten, I went, as I always - did, to listen at her door, and, hearing a noise, went in. Terrible - illness had come on and continued for hours.... The next thirty-six - hours I never left her for an instant, and they all seem to me like - one long terrible night. I remember very little distinctly, but at - eight on Saturday morning she was certainly much better. The doctor - came at ten, and she was able to speak to him. He looked very grave - over the lowness of her pulse, but she continued better for some - hours, and slept a great deal in the afternoon. Towards evening I - thought her not so well, though the doctor, who came at half-past - nine, considered her state much less anxious. I was then possessed - with the feeling that our parting was very near. Lea also called me - downstairs to hear the extraordinary sound that was going on. It - was indeed strange. It was as if hundreds of thousands of crickets - were all chirping together. They appeared everywhere in swarms on - the hearths downstairs. The noise was so great that I felt if it - continued we should be driven out of the place: it was quite - deafening; but they only came that night, they never were heard - before, and the next day they had totally disappeared.[429] I - persuaded Lea to lie down on her bed, where she soon fell asleep. - All through the night I sat by my darling on the pillow. I think - the last thing she said was that the other arm, the well arm, - pained her very much, and we feared paralysis, but more pressing - symptoms diverted attention. At half-past one I called Lea again. I - shall never know in this world whether my Mother was really - conscious, if she even knew anything either of her own great - physical suffering, or of what passed that night. I believe God - helped me to say and do all she would have wished. Each hour I was - more sure of what was coming. Towards dawn, kneeling on the bed, I - said some of the short prayers in the Visitation of the Sick, but - she was then fading rapidly, and at last I repeated the hymn 'How - bright those glorious spirits shine,' which we had always agreed - was never to be used except as the solemn sign that our parting - was surely come. I am not sure if my darling knew that she was - dying before: I am sure, if she could still hear, that she knew it - then. I am sure that she was conscious at the end and that she - speechlessly took leave of us. Her expression was calm and serene, - but very grave, as if she realised for the first time that I might - not travel with her into the solitude she was entering. It was - about a quarter of an hour before the end that all suffering - ceased, her paralysed side seemed to become quite well; the lame - hand, which had been so tightly clenched since the 13th of March, - unfolded then upon the 13th of November, and gently met the other - in prayer. The eyes were closing, but opened once more--as a - look--a look of youth and radiance, stole over the beloved features - at the last, when there was no struggle, only just a gentle sigh or - two. Lea, who was leaning over the bed on the other side, held her - spectacles to the mouth. There was no breath. I could scarcely - believe that she was gone. I still held her in my arms. But oh! in - my unutterable desolation I could give God thanks that the end was - like this. The first stroke of the church-bell sounded as she - passed into the real life. - - "When the sweet eyes closed and the dear face lost its last shadow - of colour, I kissed my own Mother for the last time and came away. - The first snowflakes of winter were falling then. They do not - signify now: no snow or cold can ever signify any more. - - "But oh! the agony, the anguish! - - "And since then her precious earthly form has been lying, with her - hands folded on her breast as if she were praying--the dear lame - hand quite well _now_. The room is draped with white and filled - with flowers. Two large white camellias stand at the head of the - bed and overshadow her pillow, and on the table, draped with white, - are her own particular objects, her bronze wolf, her little gold - tray with her spectacles, smelling-bottle, &c., and all her special - hymn-books. At first when I went in, in my great agony, I did not - draw down the sheet. But now I draw it down and look at my dearest - one. There is a look of unearthly serene repose upon the worn - features, which is almost too beautiful. - - "'Days without night, joys without sorrow, sanctity without sin, - charity without stain, possession without fear, satiety without - envyings, communication of joys without lessening, and they shall - dwell in a blessed country, where an enemy never entered, and from - whence a friend never went away.'[430] - - "But yet--oh my darling! my darling!" - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Sunday morning, Nov. 13._--My darling Mother has entered into the - real life. - - "She grew gradually weaker hour by hour, and I think she suffered - less. She knew me always, and liked to keep her eyes constantly - fixed upon me, but she could not speak. At half-past nine, she - seemed sinking, and I repeated over to her, as she desired me to do - when she was dying, the hymn 'How bright those glorious spirits - shine.' I think she heard it.... Soon after she opened her eyes - and gave me a long, long look of her own perfect lovingness, then - turned to Lea, to me again, and we heard a few gentle sighs. I had - just time to ring the bell close to my hand as I sat on the pillow, - and as John and Harriet[431] (who had been waiting in the passage) - passed sobbing into the room and stood at the foot of the bed, my - sweet darling gently breathed her last in my arms, once more--quite - at the last--opening her eyes, with a look of perfect bliss, as if - gazing at something beyond us. It was so gentle a breathing out of - her spirit, we scarcely knew when it was over. She died in my arms, - with my kiss upon her forehead, at half-past ten. I know how - tenderly my Mother's dearest, most tenderly loved friend feels for - me, and that I need not ask her to pray for my Mother's poor child - Augustus." - - - "_Nov. 14._--It seems so strange to look out of the window and see - the same sheep feeding in the same green meadows, the same flowers - blooming, and yet such a change over all. I feel as if it were I - who had died yesterday. - - "What a long, long day it was! A thousand times I was on the point - of running into the room to say some little loving word to her who - has been the recipient of every thought, _every_ pleasure for so - many, many years, and then the crushing blank, the annihilation - came all afresh. Indeed, I feel it afresh every quarter of an hour, - and when I am calmed after one thing in which my great desolation - is especially presented to me, something else calls it all forth - again. Oh, my darling! my darling! can it be? oh! how can it be? - - "The dear earthly form lies with its hands sweetly folded as if she - were praying. I go in often. I am always going in; but it does not - remind me of her, though it is most peaceful, and the servants and - others have the greatest comfort from looking at it. - - "It is as a dream that yesterday morning, quite after it was over, - I could say 'The day before yesterday my darling did this, my - darling said that.' On Friday she was so bright, so happy, only her - memory a little astray, but I was already forming a thousand little - schemes for supplying this lost power, so that it should not be - apparent to others, and to me _nothing_, I felt, could ever matter - if the sunshine of my dear Mother's sweet presence was with me - under any change." - - - "_Tuesday, Nov. 15._--Your most dear letter has come.... How much, - even in the first anguish of my desolation, I have felt what it - would be to you also. You will always be most tenderly entwined - with her sacred memory; indeed, I can scarcely think of you apart. - For the last few years especially your companionship has been her - greatest joy, and in your absence she has never passed many hours - without speaking of you, never _any_, I think, without thinking of - you. The grief she most dreaded was that she might have to mourn - for you, for I think she rightly felt that--great as the sorrow - would be--your physical powers would enable you to bear the - separation better than she could have done. - - "This morning I feel a little better, and can dwell more upon my - darling's being perfected, upon the restoration of all her powers, - upon her reunion to those she loved in former times of her life; - and I have a perfect treasure-store in my journals for years of her - sacred words of blessing, and advice, and thought for me, many of - them, I know, intended to be my comfort now. - - "I will send you many of the letters about her. I wonder why people - should dread letters of sympathy. To me the letters are nothing, - but what I long for is not to hear that people sympathise with me, - but to know how they loved her. - - "To-day it is thick snow. Oh! she would have been so ill; now she - is not ill." - - - "_Tuesday evening, Nov. 15._--To-day a change came over the dear - face--a look of unspeakable repose and beauty such as I never saw - on any face before. The servants told me of it, and so it was; it - is the most wonderful expression--serene, solemn, holy beauty. - - "All the letters are a great--not comfort--nothing can ever be - that, but I like to see how she was loved, and I look forward to - them. There were thirty to-day, and yet I thought no one could - know. What comes home to one is simple sympathy. One cannot help - envying the people who can be comforted in real sorrow by what one - may call Evangelical topics. It seems so perfectly irrelative to - hear that 'man is born to trouble,' that 'it is God that - chasteneth,' &c. - - "I recollect now that on Saturday morning I was obliged to send off - some proof-sheets.[432] She asked what I was doing, and then said, - 'I shall so enjoy reading it when it is all finished, but I must - have my little desk out then, because I shall not be able to hold - the book.' We have only just remembered this, which proves that - there must have been a slight rally then. It was all so short, so - bewildering at last, that things will only come back gradually. - - "I shall be glad when the incessant noise of workmen[433] - downstairs ceases. It is so incongruous in the house now, but could - not be helped. My darling did not mind it; indeed it seems to me, - on looking back, as if she never found fault with anything; often - she did not hear it, and when she did, 'I like that pleasant - sound,' she said." - - - "_Nov. 16._--There were forty letters to-day, many wanting answers, - so I can only write a little, but it is a comfort to me to send you - any memories of those precious last days as they occur to me, and - as the first _mist_ of anguish clears up, so many things recur. - - "You asked about Romo. Indeed it overwhelms me to think of it. The - dear little beast is so touching in his attempts to comfort me. He - comes and licks my hand and rubs himself against me, as he never - was in the habit of doing. In the first sad moments after the dear - eyes closed, Lea, by an old Northern custom, would send down to - '_tell_ the dog and the bees' (the bees would have died, she - thinks, if they had not been told), and Romo understood it all, and - did not howl, but cried plaintively all morning. - - "I forget whether I spoke of the music. For the last four days my - darling had said at intervals that she heard beautiful music. - Thursday and Friday I thought nothing of it; on Saturday it began - to have a solemn meaning. - - [Illustration: THE CHURCH LANE, HURSTMONCEAUX.] - - "I have been to-day to Hurstmonceaux. It was necessary. There was - deep snow the first part of the way, but beyond Battle no snow at - all, leaves still on the trees, and quite a summer look. It was - more overpowering to me than I expected to pass Lime, and I almost - expected to see _her_ come across the field and open the - wicket-gate to her beloved walk to the school. The Haringtons[434] - were most kind in placing Hurstmonceaux Place at our disposal for - the funeral, and removed all scruples about it by saying how - really thankful they were to be able to show their affection for - the Mother in that way. I went up twice to the church. The road - thither and the churchyard looked most beautiful, and the spot - chosen, on the edge towards the level, with the view she always - thought so like the Campagna. I am allowed to enclose a little - space, which will contain my grave also. - - "I called on Mrs. W. Isted,[435] and found her quite overpowered, - sitting with my darling's photograph. 'It is not only her own loss, - dearly as I loved her, but the deaths of all my others come back to - me, which she helped me to bear.'" - - - "_Nov. 17._--Do you know that through a mist of tears I have been - forced to go on sending off proof-sheets of 'Walks in Rome'? One of - the last things she spoke of was her hope that I would not let her - illness hinder the book. The dedication to her, already printed, - will seem touching to those who read it. She herself read _that_ - when the first volume was finished. But her great pleasure of the - last few weeks was in the chapters of the 'Memorials' which I was - writing of her Alton life. To continue them with the copious - materials she has left will now be my one great interest. She has - left me perfectly free to make what use I like of all, and one day - made me write down from her dictation an expression to that effect. - The Alton life is certainly the most perfect ideal of a country - clergyman's life that can well be conceived." - - "_Nov. 19._--I cannot leave home yet.... Leycester, Mamie, and many - others have written, as she always said they would, that their - hearts and houses are open to receive me, but this must be later. - Indeed, I shall cling to all she loved, and in the ever-living - remembrance of her shall be able to love _all_. I had even a kind - note from Mrs. Maurice[436] to-day: she said I should. - - "Henry Papillon came yesterday, touchingly wishful to look upon the - dear face once more, and he was even more struck than I expected - with its immortal beauty.... To-day was a great wrench. This - morning the precious earthly form was sealed away from us." - - - "_Nov. 22._--I went through yesterday in a dream. I did not realise - it at all. Lea left Holmhurst in an agony of sobs and tears, but I - did not; I had so often thought of it, I seemed to have gone - through it all before, and then I had already lost sight of my - darling. - - "Lea, John, Johnnie Cornford, and I went in the little carriage - _first_; Harriet, Anne, Rogers, Joe, and Margaret Cornford[437] - followed _her_. We reached Hurstmonceaux Place about half-past - twelve. In half-an-hour they all began to arrive: each and all of - my dear cousins were most kind to me." - - - JOURNAL (The Green Book). - - "_Dec. 4, 1870._--I have been unable to write in my journal, the - hundred and ninety-two letters which I have had to answer have - taken all the time.... And I live still. I used to think I could - not live, but I am not even ill; and yet how my life is changed, - all the interest, all the happiness, all the sunshine gone, only - the systematic routine of existence left. - - "My poor Lea is already beginning to be interested in her chickens - and her farm-life, and to think it all 'such a long time ago.' But - to me it seems as if it had only just happened, and the hour in - which her sweet eyes closed upon me has swallowed up all the hours - which have come since, and is always the last hour to me. - - "I think it was about the third day afterwards that Lea came into - my room and told me that the look of wonderful beauty and repose - which appeared at the last had come back again to the dear - features. And so it was. It was the sweetest look of calm, serene - repose. The colour had all faded out of my darling's cheeks, which - had lost every sign of age, and were smooth and white as if they - were chiselled in marble. Her closed eyelids, her gently curving - mouth expressed the sweetest restfulness. The dear lame hand, quite - supple at last, had closed softly upon the other. And this lovely - image of her perfected state was lent to me till the last, when the - beloved features were closed away from me for ever. - - "It was on the Saturday that Lea and I went in together for the - last time. Lea cried violently. I was beyond tears. We covered away - together all that was dearest to us on earth. I placed a lock of my - hair in her hands, and laid her favourite flowers by her. Monday a - day of rain and storm-cloud. I shall always associate the road to - Hurstmonceaux with the drive on that winter's morning with - swirling rain-clouds, and the waters out on the distant Levels - gleaming white through the mist. Coming down the hill near Boreham - how many memories of my dearest one came back to me,--of her - anxiety to put me out to walk at Standard Hill,--of her admiration - of the three pines on the hill-top; and then, near Lime, of walks - with her on dewy summer mornings, when I went with her in my - childhood to pick ground-ivy and violets in the fields behind Lime - Cross. - - "The coffin lay in the centre of the drawing-room at Hurstmonceaux - Place, upon a high raised stand draped with white. All around it - hung a lovely wreath of flowers from Holmhurst, and at the foot - masses of flowers kindly sent by the present owners of Lime. Mrs. - H. Papillon[438] had sent a beautiful cross of white - chrysanthemums, and some one else a wreath, and in the centre, - linking all with a reminiscence of her sister Lucy, lay a bunch of - withered violets from Abbots Kerswell. Here, over the coffin of her - whose life was perfect peace, the two great enemies in the parish - of Hurstmonceaux shook hands and were reconciled. - - "At two the eighteen bearers, all chosen from labourers whom she - had known, filed in in their white smock frocks and took up the - precious burden. Lea and I followed immediately, then Leycester, - Vere, and Emmie Penrhyn; Arthur, Augusta, and Mary Stanley; Morgan - and Mamie Yeatman; Dr. Vaughan, Frederick Fisher, Mrs. Hale, and a - long line of neighbours, clergy, and servants, walking two and two. - - "Down the well-known avenue and lanes, the bearers advanced, - looking like a great band of choristers. I saw nothing, but some of - the others remarked that as we came away from the house a beautiful - silver cloud and rainbow appeared over it. - - "Arthur and Augusta left the procession at the foot of the hill and - passed on before; so he met us at the gate. - - "In the centre of the chancel, where I had seen the coffin of Uncle - Julius, there the coffin of my own darling lay, but it was covered - with no gloomy pall, only garlanded with flowers, the garlands of - her new life. - - "At the grave, Lea stood on one side of me, Emmie on the other. - Arthur read most touchingly, and in the words of that service one - was lifted up, not drawn down: but indeed I felt it very little, I - only saw it in a dream. - - "Afterwards I think they all came up and kissed me. Then they went - away, and Lea and I walked back alone through the shrubbery to - Hurstmonceaux Place, and so came home. - - "To our most desolate home. - - "On the Saturday after we went to Hurstmonceaux again. The Sunday - services at the church were most beautiful. In the morning 'How - bright those glorious spirits shine' was sung, and in the evening, - almost in the dark, 'Pilgrims of the night.' Mr. Munn[439] preached - on 'Bury me with my fathers--in the cave of Machpelah,' &c., - speaking of how she was brought from a distant place, and how, in - foreign lands, her great wish had been to be laid at Hurstmonceaux, - and so to what I wished of the peculiar connection of my darling's - life with Hurstmonceaux, and of how the different scenes in the - parish which called up the remembrance of her sweet words and acts - connected with them, might also call up the recollection of those - truths to which her gentle life was a living witness. When Lea and - I went out to the grave afterwards, we found two poor women--Mrs. - Medhurst and Mrs. Harmer--standing there dressed in black, and the - little mound covered with flowers. - - "I saw it once again next day, and made a little wall of holly and - ivy round it. Oh, my darling!--and then we returned here again, to - the ordinary life, only the door of the sacred chamber stands open, - and the room is cold and empty, and my heart and my life are - desolate. 'The sanctuary of sorrow' seems to me an expression full - of significance." - - - _To_ MISS LEYCESTER. - - "_Holmhurst, Dec. 1, 1870._--Madame de Staël shows how she must - have suffered when she wrote--'Le reveil, quel moment pour les - malheureux!' To-day is the first of a month in which my darling has - no share: each day there is something in which I seem to part with - her afresh. My life is so changed that it seems impossible to - believe that it is such a short time since I was so happy--only, - between the present dumb blank and the happy time are those - terrible thirty-six hours of illness, and in the thought of them I - am more than satisfied that she cannot go through them again. Each - minute of those hours comes back to me now so vividly--the - acuteness of the numb misery, which _really_ had no hope, with the - determination that she should see nothing but smiles to the last, - for my whole life afterwards would be long enough for tears. - - "Poor Lea sits with me now for an hour every day after tea, and we - talk of every moment of those last days. - - "It is most bitterly cold: she would have been _so_ ill." - - - "_Dec. 17._--Mrs. Tom Brassey passed me to-day, riding with a - party. She made them go on, and stopped to speak to me, then burst - into tears, and spoke most feelingly of old Mr. Brassey's death, to - whom I believe she was truly attached. Then she revealed the - enormous wealth to which they have fallen heirs. They expected to - have no more, as the father had already given each of his sons an - immense sum, but old Mr. Brassey has left six millions! She feels - the awful responsibility of such a heritage, and spoke admirably - and touchingly--said she trusted each of the three brothers would - set out with the determination to spend it worthily of their - father, and then of all their plans already made for the good of - others. It seemed odd to come back from discussing all this to the - great anxiety as to whether my income would amount to £500, and if - I should be able to live on at Holmhurst. - - "It is actually five weeks this evening since my darling was here, - and we were entering upon the utter anguish of that last night. - Sometimes the agony comes back to me, so that I am obliged to _do_ - something which requires close attention to set it aside; but at - other times--generally--I can think with composure of the five - weeks she has spent well, and _warm_, and happy." - - MRS. ARNOLD _to_ AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. - - "_Dingle Bank, Nov. 21, 1870._--You will be in such deep grief that - I hardly know how to write to you; and yet I so loved the dear - Mother you have lost, so reverenced her goodness and sweetness and - holiness, that I cannot but hope you may like a few words from me - of truest sympathy, and indeed I can feel for you. To those at a - distance it is the thought of a dear friend transplanted from earth - to heaven, but to you there is the thought of the daily - companionship, the loving nursing, the perpetual consciousness of - what you were to her. In this, however, in the sense of the - continual help and comfort and love that she received from you, - will be your great consolation. - - "I have never lost the impression made on me by her own _more_ than - resignation when she spoke to me at Rugby of her own separation - from what was dearest to her upon earth--there seemed such joy in - _his_ happiness, such a realising of it to herself, that earthly - clouds and shadows disappeared. - - "I will not say more now, but for _her_ dear sake, and that of my - long and affectionate interest in you, I hope you will sometimes - let me hear of you." - - - LADY EASTLAKE _to_ AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE. - - "_7 Fitzroy Square, Dec. 4._--I have seen a notice in the _Times_ - which has sent a pang through my heart, and hasten to tell you how - intensely I feel for you. None but those who know the bitterness of - a great sorrow can really sympathise with you, for only they can - measure the length and breadth of the suffering. I know of no - consolation but the conviction that God knows all and does all, and - that He will reunite in His good time to the Beloved One. Sorrow is - a mighty force, and its fruit ought to be commensurate: we sow - truly in tears, but the reaping in joy is, I believe, reserved for - another state. Still there is much to be done by sorrow's husbandry - even here, and assuredly were the fruits of the Spirit to be - attained without suffering, God would not put His poor children - through it. - - "I fear that life must look very joyless before you, and that all - things for a time must seem altered, your very self most so. I can - only say be patient with _yourself_, and take every mitigation that - offers itself. I should be very glad to hear from you when you have - heart and leisure. You have seen me in bitter anguish, and will not - be shy of one who has drunk of that cup to the very dregs. God's - holy will be done!" - - - - -INDEX - -TO VOLS. I., II. AND III. - - - - -INDEX - - -A. - -ABERDEEN, John, 7th Earl of, iii. 43. - -Ackermann, Félix, i. 36, 97, 158; ii. 192, 195, 423; iii. 53-56, 338, 349. ----- Madame Victoire, i. 31, 32, 96, 339-340, 354-356; ii. 192, 195, - 405, 422-423, 499; iii. 52-64, 189, 253, 308, 310-312, 339, 351. - ----- Victoria, iii. 308, 311. - -Acland, Sir Thomas, ii. 149. - -Acuto, ii. 426, 438-441. - -Adeane, Henry John, i. 214. - -Adelaide de France, Madame, iii. 23. ----- Queen of England, i. 289, 294. - -Aitkens, Mr., of Kingston-Lyle, ii. 140. - -Alacoque, Marguerite Marie, ii. 445. - -Albert, the Prince Consort, i. 302; ii. 286-288. - -Albrecht, Archduke of Austria, ii. 35-36. - -Alcock, Mrs., story of, iii. 118-123. - -Alderley, i. 61, 66; ii. 292, 293. - -Aldermaston, ii. 219. - -Alexander, Mary Manning, Mrs., i. 185, 248-251, 357, 469, 481; ii. 128. - -Alford, Henry, Dean of Canterbury, i. 479; ii. 390-391, 432-433; iii. - 155-157, 393-394. - ----- Lady Marian, i. 293; ii. 298; iii. 28, 368. - -Alfriston, i. 505. - -Alice, H.R.H. the Princess, of Hesse, ii. 288. - -Allan, Charles Stuart, ii. 515. - -----John Hay, ii. 515. - -Alnwick, ii. 353; iii. 33. - -Alston, Carlotta, i. 2. - -----Mary Margaret, i. 2, 5. - -Alton Barnes, i. 45-48, 191-192, 278; iii. 110. - -Amboise, ii. 495. - -Anderson, Mr., of Bradley, ii. 320. - -Angoulême, Marie Thérèse de France, Duchesse d', ii. 298; - iii. 43-44. - -Antibes, iii. 145-149. - -Antonelli, Cardinal, ii. 72; - iii. 71. - -Aponte, Dom Emmanuele, i. 6-8. - -Aram, Eugene, ii. 332-334. - -Arcachon, ii. 465. - -Arkcoll, Mr. Thomas, ii. 228, 244. - -Arles, iii. 184. - -Arnold, Edward, iii. 329. - -----Matthew, i. 177, 512. - -----Mrs., i. 177; iii. 327-329, 418. - -----Dr. Thomas, of Rugby, i. 160. - -Ars, Jean Marie Vianney, le Curé d', ii. 417-420. - -Ars, visit to, iii. 134-136. - -Ashdown, ii. 229. - -Atbelstan, Mr., ii. 270. - -Aumale, Henri, Duc d', iii. 18. - -Autun, iii. 320. - - -B. - -Babington, Mrs. Catherine, ii. 351. - -Bacon, Mrs. Nicholas, iii. 169. - -Baden, Frederick William, Grand Duke, and Louisa, Grand Duchess of, iii. 109. - -Baden-Baden, i. 384. - -Bagot, Mr. Charles, iii. 132. - ----- Lucia, Lady, iii. 32. - ----- Lord and Lady, iii. 368. - -Balcarres, Colin, 3rd Earl of, iii. 25. - ----- James, 5th Earl of, iii. 24. - -Bamborough Castle, ii. 271, 354; iii. 8, 170. - -Bankhead, Charles, secretary of legation at Constantinople, i. 26. - ----- Maria Horatia Paul, Mrs., i. 27, 28, 296. - -Bar le Duc, iii. 333. - -Barnard, Lady Anne, iii. 14, 27, 324-326, ???. - -Barnard Castle, ii. 275, 340. - -Barraud, Madame and Mademoiselle, ii. 116, 125-128. - -Barrère, Madame, iii. 87. - -Barrington, Hon. Adelaide, ii. 139. - ----- Hon. Augusta, ii. 139. - ----- George, 5th Viscount, ii. 310. - ----- Jane, Viscountess, ii. 138, 140. - ----- Shute, Bishop of Durham, ii. 139. - ----- William Keppel, 6th Viscount, ii. 139, 140. - ----- Mrs. Russell, i. 282. - -Bassi, Laura, i. 7. - -Bayley, Mrs., iii. 132-134. - -Beaujour, Château de, ii. 500-503. - -Beckett, ii. 138-140, 227, 229. - -Beckwith, Mrs., of Silksworth, ii. 412. - -Belgium, tour in, i. 377. - -Belhaven, Hamilton, Lady, ii. 335-337, 354-355, 358; - iii. 35-36. - -Belhaven, Lord, ii. 354, 358; - iii. 35, 45-46. - -Bellagio, iii. 106. - -Belsay, ii. 347. - -Benalta, family story of, ii. 454-460. - -Bengivenga, Francesca, iii. 200. - -Bennet, Hon. Frederick, ii. 268-269. - ----- Hon. George, ii. 268-269. - -Bentley, Harriet, iii. 406, 412. - -Benzoni, the sculptor, iii. 83. - -Berchtesgaden, iii. 231. - -Bergeret, Madame, story of, iii. 177-182. - -Berkeley Castle, i. 287. - -Berri, Caroline, Duchesse de, iii. 15-17, 43-44. - -Berry, the Misses, i. 299-300. - -Betharram, ii. 487. - -Biarritz, ii. 488. - -Bidart, ii. 489. - -Birtles, iii. 117. - -Blackett, Sir Edward and Lady, ii. 266-267, 341, 346; - iii. 170, 323. - -Blackwood, Sir Arthur, iii. 243. - -Blake, Sir Francis, iii. 31. - ----- William, the artist, iii. 14. - -Blenkinsopp Castle, ii. 353. - -Blessington, Harriet Power, Countess of, i. 20, 37; - ii. 408. - -Blomfield, Charles James, Bishop of London, i. 470. - -Blommart, Miss Elizabeth, ii. 489. - -Bodryddan, iii. 123. - -Bologna, i. 7-9; - iii. 380. - -Bolvilliers, Comtesse de, i. 343-351. - -Bonaparte, Cardinal Lucien, iii. 287. - -Bonis, Madame Maria de, iii. 373, 378. - -Bonnyrigg, ii. 341. - -Borghese, Adèle, Princess, ii. 58. - ----- Guendolina, Princess, ii. 58, 59. - ----- Marc-Antonio, Prince, ii. 58, 375. - -Borghese, Pauline, Princess, ii. 336. - ----- Teresa, Princess, ii. 58; iii. 85, 193. - -Bosanquet, Charles, of Rock, ii. 278. - ----- Mrs., of Rock, ii. 279. - -Bothwell Castle, iii. 48. - -Bourbon, Louis Henri Joseph, Duc de, iii. 21-23. - -Bourges, ii. 310. - -Bowes, ii. 276. - -Bowes, Lady Anna, ii. 172, 173. - ----- John, of Streatlam, ii. 173, 178, 179, 274-276. - ----- Mrs. John, ii. 275. - -Bowles, Miss, iii. 294, 298. - -Boyle, Carolina Amelia Poyntz, Lady, i. 89, 291-292. - ----- Hon. Carolina Courtenay, i. 289-294, 436-437, 508-509; ii. 381-384. - ----- Miss Mary, i. 293; iii. 368, 370. - -Bozledeane Wood, i. 361. - -Bracciano, iii. 375. - -Bradley Manor in Devon, i. 287. - ----- in Northumberland, ii. 320. - -Bradley, Rev. Charles, i. 297-299, 303-315, 332-335, 368, 369, 390-393, - 396-398, 408. - ----- Mrs. Charles, i. 303, 307, 369. - -Brainscleugh, ii. 358. - -Brassey, Henry and Albert, ii. 391. - ----- Mrs. Thomas, iii. 417. - -Brewster, Sir David, iii. 40. - -Bridgeman, Lady Selina, ii. 389. - -Brimham Rocks, ii. 339. - -Brinkburn Abbey, ii. 365. - -Brodie, Sir Benjamin, i. 248. - -Brougham and Vaux, Henry, 1st Lord, iii. 143-144. - -Brown, Dr., Professor at Aberdeen, i. 11. - -Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, ii. 91, 409. - ----- Robert, ii. 408. - -Brownlow, John, and Earl, ii. 137. - -Bruce, Rev. J. Collingwood, the antiquarian, ii. 318; iii. 49. - ----- Hon. Mrs. Robert, iii. 203. - -Brymer, Archdeacon (of Wells), i. 338. - ----- Marianne Wilkinson, Mrs., i. 338. - -Buchanan, Miss Helen, iii. 81. - -Bufalo, the Venerable Gaspare del, ii. 425, 442. - -Bulkeley, Anna Maria Hare, Mrs., i. 3, 494. - -Bulman, Mrs., ii. 346. - -Bunsen, Charles de, ii. 109. - ----- Chevalier, afterwards Baron, i. 161-163, 164, 465, 504. - ----- Emilia de, iii. 109. - ----- Frances de, ii. 293; iii. 109. - ----- George de, i. 481. - ----- Rev. Henry de, ii. 328. - ----- Madame, afterwards Baroness, i. 465; ii. 293, 333-336. - ----- Matilda de, ii. 293. - ----- Theodore de, i. 464; ii. 294. - -Buntingsdale, i. 144, 208; ii. 326-327. - -Burney, Miss, ii. 436. - -Burns, Robert, the poet, ii. 169. - -Burr, Mrs. Higford, ii. 220. - -Butler, Rev. W. J., Vicar of Wantage, ii. 222-224. - ----- Mrs., i. 501. - - -C. - -Caen, i. 319. - -Caerlaverock Castle, ii. 164. - -Caiëtani, Don Filippo. ii. 58. - ----- Don Onorato, iii. 87. - -Calotkin, Count, i. 15. - -Cambo, ii. 490. - -Cameron, Mr., and Lady Vere, ii. 8. - -Cameron, Lady Vere, ii. 481-482. - -Campbell, Charlotte Malcolm, Lady, i. 88. - ----- Colin, i. 309, 310, 313. - -Canevari, G. B., the portrait painter, ii. 75. - -Cannes, iii. 136-150. - -Canning, Charlotte, Countess, ii. 360; iii. 323. - -Canterbury, i. 357-366; ii. 23-25; iii. 331-332, 394. - -Capel, Monsignor, ii. 486. - -Capheaton, ii. 350. - -Capri, ii. 81. - -Carew, Miss Julia Pole, iii. 372. - ----- Mrs. Pole, iii. 375. - -Carham, iii. 326. - -Carlsruhe, i. 6; iii. 109. - -Carlyle, Thomas, i. 166. - -Carmichael, Sir William, iii. 46. - -Caroline, Empress of Austria, ii. 42. - ----- of Brunswick, Queen of England, iii. 14-15. - -Carr of Hedgeley, family of, ii. 286. - -Castel Fusano, ii. 390. - -Castlecraig, iii. 46. - -Castro, Don Alessandro del, iii. 193. - -Cavendish, Admiral, and Mrs. George, ii. 94, 97. - ----- Louisa, Hon. Mrs., i. 212. - ----- Lord Richard, i. 212. - -Cecchi, Cardinal, ii. 68. - -Cecil, Lord Eustace, i. 241. - -Cecinelli, Lucia, i. 53. - -Cenci, Count Bolognetti, iii. 49, 85, 87. - -Challinor, Mrs. Hannah, i. 150. - -Chambord, Henri, Comte de, iii. 16-18. - -Charles X., King of France, iii. 43. - -Charlotte, Queen of England, ii. 436-437. - -Charlotte, Princess, of Belgium, ii. 36, 37. - -Charltons of Hesleyside, the, ii. 343. - -Chartwell, i. 507; ii. 321. - -Chase Dieu, Le, iii. 150. - -Chequers, ii. 8. - -Chesters, ii. 341; iii. 49. - -Chetwode, Mrs. George, i. 157. - -Chevreuse, ii. 125. - -Chichester, Miss Catherine, ii. 94, 286. - -Chillingham, ii. 267-271, 364; iii. 33. - -Chingford, i. 312, 400. - -Chipchase, ii. 343. - -Cholmondeley, Mary Heber, Mrs., i. 142. - -Christina, Queen, of Spain, ii. 57. - -Civita Castellana, ii. 54. - -Clarendon, Caroline, wife of the 5th Earl of, ii. 139. - -Clayton, Mrs. Anne, ii. 318-319. - ----- George Nathaniel, ii. 318, 353. - ----- Isabel, Mrs. G. Nathaniel, ii. 318. - ----- John, of Chesters, ii. 318, 343. - ----- Miss, ii. 274, 318, 341-344. - ----- Mr. Matthew, ii. 318-319. - -Cleveland, William Henry, 1st Duke of, iii. 46. - -Clifford, Captain, ii. 81. - -Clinton, Lady Charles, ii. 477. - ----- Lady Louisa, i. 383. - ----- Miss Louisa, i. 59, 210, 257, 387-388. - -Clive, Mrs. Archer, ii. 452-453. - -Cluny, iii. 383. - -Clutterbuck, Marianne Lyon, Mrs., of Warkworth, ii. 17, 284, 352. - -Clyde, Falls of the, iii. 99. - -Cobham, Claude Delaval, iii. 152-153. - -Coigny, Augustin, Duc de, iii. 18-19. - -Cole, Miss Florence, ii. 45, 54. - ----- Miss Louisa, ii. 46. - -Colegrave, Mrs. Francis, ii. 94, 286. - -Coleman, Miss Sarah, i. 173. - -Collatia, ii. 390. - -Collins, Staunton, i. 153, 190. - -Colonna, Isabella de Toledo, Princess, iii. 190. - -Colquhoun, J. E. C., i. 507; ii. 322. - ----- John Archibald, iii. 425. - -Compton, Mrs., iii. 326. - -Conington, John, Professor of Latin, ii. 4. - -Conwy, Shipley, iii. 129. - ----- Colonel Shipley, iii. 130. - -Copeland Castle, ii. 364. - -Corbet, Lady, of Adderley, iii. 401. - -Cork and Orrery, Edmund, 8th Earl of, i. 293. - -Costa le Cerda, Vicomte, ii. 115-116, 121. - -Cottrell-Dormer, Mr. and Mrs., of Rousham, ii. 150. - -Coulson, Colonel, ii. 354. - ----- Hon. Mrs., ii. 354. - ----- Misses Mary and Arabella, of Blenkinsopp, ii. 176, 222. - -Courmayeur, ii. 409, 458. - -Courtenay, Lady Agnes, iii. 318. - ----- "Sir William" (Nichols Tom), i. 361-365. - -Cousin, M. Victor, iii. 146. - -Cowburne, Mrs., i. 128, 209. - -Coxe, Rev. Henry Octavius, Bodleian Librarian, ii. 157. - -Cracroft, Colonel and Mrs., iii. 382. - -Cradock, Hon. Mrs. (Harriet Lister), i. 512; ii. 137-138. - -Craster, family of, ii. 279. - -Crecy, ii. 380. - -Creslow Pastures, ii. 220. - -Cresswell, Sir Cresswell, ii. 353. - -Crichton Castle, ii. 172. - -Croyland, iii. 164. - -Cuffe, Sir Charles, ii. 58. - -Cummings, Mr. and Mrs., iii. 380. - -Cushman, Miss Charlotte, iii. 204-207, 386. - - -D. - -Dallas, Mrs., iii. 380. - -Dalton Hall, iii. 131. - -Dalzell, ii. 359. - -Dalzel, Mrs. Allen, iii. 172. - ----- Aventina, Mrs., ii. 17-19, 172, 357; iii. 172, 174-176. - -Dampierre, ii. 125. - -Darley, George, i. 164. - -Darling, Mr., of Bamborough, ii, 272. - -Dasent, Sir George, i. 67, 448. - -Dashwood, Anna Maria Shipley, Mrs., i. 17, 26, 157; iii. 125, 127-128. - ----- Bertha, Lady, ii. 466, 477. - ----- Sir Edwin, ii. 466. - -D'Aubigné, M. Merle, i. 453. - -Davenport, Edward, of Capesthorne, ii. 142. - -Davidoff, Adèle, Madame, i. 351; ii. 65-67, 76, 115, 416. - -Davidson, Susan Jessop, Mrs., of Ridley Hall, ii. 172-177, 266, 272-274; - iii. 322-323. - -Dawkins, Mrs. Francis, ii. 297; iii. 71-75, 314. - -Deimling, Herr Otto, i. 162. - -Denfenella, ii. 168. - -Denison, Lady Charlotte, iii. 42. - ----- Mr. Stephen, ii. 272. - -Derby, Edward Smith Stanley, 13th Earl of, iii. 131. - -Derwentwater, James Radcliffe, Earl of, ii. 266, 351. - -De Selby, Mrs., iii. 71-80. - ----- Mrs. Robert, iii. 191. - -Des Voeux, Miss Georgiana, ii. 371-372; iii. 139. - -Devonshire, Georgiana, wife of William, 5th Duke of, i. 5, 6. - -Dickens, Charles, ii. 276. - -Dilston, ii. 320. - -Dixon, Louisa Simpkinson, Mrs., iii. 397. - -Dixon-Browne, Mr. and Mrs., of Unthank, iii. 169. - -Dolceacqua, ii. 253. - -Dolgorouki, Prince Nicole, iii. 68, 84. - -Doncaster, ii. 261. - -Doria, Donna Guendolina, ii. 71. - ----- Prince, ii. 424. - ----- Donna Olimpia, ii. 72. - ----- Donna Teresa, ii. 70. - -D'Orsay, Count, i. 18, 20, 29, 37; ii. 408. - -Dowdeswell, Miss, iii. 76, 82. - -Dresden, i. 429. - -Duckworth, Robinson, afterwards tutor to Prince Leopold and Canon of - Westminster, i. 446, 472; ii. 4, 33. - -Dudley, John, Earl, i. 20. - -Dumbleton, Miss Harriet, i. 269. - -Dumfries, ii. 163. - -Dunlop, Harriet, Mrs., iii. 258, 260, 281-282, 288, 291, 292, 298, 304, - 306, 317. - -Dunottar, ii. 166. - -Dunstanborough Castle, ii. 269-270, 364; iii. 35, 36. - -Duntrune, ii. 165. - -Dupanloup, Monsignor, Bishop of Orleans, iii. 360. - -Durham, ii. 262. - -Durham, Beatrix, Countess of, ii. 364-366; iii. 35-39. - ----- George-Frederick, Earl of, ii. 364-365; ii. 35-36. - -Dyrham Park, i. 315. - - -E. - -Eardley, Sir Culling, ii. 298. - -Eastbourne, i. 63, 210, 256, 376, 505. - -East Hendred, ii. 230. - -Eastlake, Elizabeth Rigby, Lady, iii. 154-155, 418. - -Eccles Greig, ii. 168. - -Egerton, Lady Blanche, iii. 32, 33. - ----- Rev. Charles, i. 136. - -Elcho, Anne, Lady, ii. 356; iii. 42. - -Ellisland, ii. 169. - -Ellison, Mr. Cuthbert, i. 50. - ----- Mrs., of Sugbrooke, iii. 169. - -Elsdon, ii. 345. - -Ely, iii. 8. - -Erskine, Rev. J., and Mrs., iii. 200. - ----- Thomas, of Linlathen, ii. 165, 278. - -Escrick, ii. 437. - -Eslington, ii. 320, 364. - -Este, iii. 229. - -Eugene Beauharnais, Prince, i. 20. - -Eugenie, the Empress, i. 492; iii. 392. - -Evans, Rev. Mr., iii. 3. - -Eversley, Viscount, ii. 217. - -Evreux, i. 326. - -Exeter, Henry Philpotts, Bishop of, ii. 264. - - -F. - -Facchini, Giacinta, "the Saint of St. Peter's," ii. 429-430; iii. 253-254. - -Falconnet, Mademoiselle Judith, ii. 59. - -Falkirk Tryste, iii. 48. - -Farley Hungerford, i. 271-272. - -Feilden, Rev. H. Arbuthnot, and Mrs., iii. 78-80. - -Feilding, Lord and Lady, i. 340. - -Fellowes, Susan Lyon, Mrs., ii. 272, 311. - -Ferney Voltaire, i. 453. - -Ferrara, ii. 47; - iii. 345. - -Ferronays, M. de la, ii. 68. - -Feuchères, Sophia Dawes, Madame de, iii. 21-23. - -Fiano, Duke of, ii. 424; - iii. 269, 286. - ----- Giulia, Duchess of, ii. 59. - -Fielding, Copley, i. 164, 505. - -Filiol, Sybil, i. 156. - -Fina, S., iii. 343. - -Finucane, Miss, iii. 209, 378. - -Fisher, Frederick, iii. 67, 414. - -FitzClarence, Lady Frederick, iii. 29-30. - -Fitz-Gerald, Edward Fox, i. 29. - ----- Jane Paul, Mrs. Edward, i. 29; - iii. 267, 269, 271, 272. - ----- Pamela, wife of Lord Edward, i. 29. - -Fitzherbert, Mrs., iii. 323. - -Fitzmaurice, Mrs., iii. 225. - -Fletcher, Miss, of Saltoun, ii. 355; - iii. 40, 42, 43. - ----- Lady Charlotte, ii. 356; - iii. 43-45. - -Flodden Field, ii. 281. - -Florence, ii. 84; iii. 103, 315. - -Florence, Henry, iii. 363. - -Fontainebleau, i. 451. - -Fontaines, iii. 183. - -Fontarabia, ii. 493. - -Fontenay, iii. 385. - -Ford Castle, ii. 280-282, 360-363; - iii. 323-326. - -Foster, Dr., Bishop of Kilmore, and Mrs., ii. 233-234. - ----- Miss, ii. 234-239. - -Fotheringham, Mrs., of Fotheringham, ii. 165. - -Francesca Romana, S., iii. 224-225. - -Francesco II., King of Naples, iii. 96-97, 85. - -Franklin, Lady, iii. 2. - -Fray, Miss, i. 268. - -Frederick, Crown Prince of Prussia, afterwards Emperor of Germany, ii. 374. - ----- the Great, ii. 148. - -Fribourg, in Switzerland, ii. 112. - -Fritwell Manor, ii. 151. - -Fry, Elizabeth, Mrs., i. 229; - ii. 437. - -Fullerton, Lady Georgiana, ii. 400, 403, 444. - - -G. - -Gabet, M., ii. 421. - -Gabriac, Marquis de, ii. 115. - ----- Marquise de, ii. 67. - -Gaebler, M. Bernard, i. 160. - -Galicano, the Hermitage of, ii. 98. - -Galway, Rev. Father, ii. 398-404, 427; - iii. 262, 286. - -Garden, Miss Henrietta, i. 108; - iii. 192, 213, 220. - -Gaskell, Mrs., the authoress, ii. 224; - iii. 117. - -Gasperoni, the robber chieftain, ii. 54. - -Gaussen, M., i. 453. - -Gayford, Mrs., i. 53, 369. - -Gemmi, adventure on the, i. 462. - -Geneva, i. 452; - ii. 378. - -George III., King of England, ii. 434-436. - -George IV., King of England, iii. 14, 15, 176, 324. - -Ghizza, Ancilla, iii. 234. - -Giacinta, the "Saint of St. Peter's," ii. 429-430; - iii. 253-254. - -Gibside, ii. 180. - -Gibson, John, the sculptor, iii. 76-78. - -Gidman, John, i. 131; - ii. 33, 83, 386; - iii. 232, 406, 412. - ----- Mary Lea, i. 205-207, 210; - ii. 33, 468, 489; - iii. 193, 195, 316, 399, 403, 409, 412, 413, 414. - -Gioberti, Signor, iii. 167. - -Gladstone, Mrs., ii. 381. - -Glamis Castle, i. 22. - -Glamis, John Lyon, 6th Lord, i. 23. - ----- John Lyon, 7th Lord, i. 23. - ----- John, 8th Lord, i. 23. - -Glastonbury, i. 98. - -Goldschmidt, Madame (Jenny Lind), i. 230; - iii. 146-149. - -Goldsmid, Nathaniel, ii. 68; - iii. 168. - ----- Mrs. Nathaniel, iii. 69, 71-75, 93. - -Goldstone Farm, i. 149, 208. - -Gondi, Count, iii. 252. - -Gordon, Hon. John, iii. 43. - -Gore, Lady, i. 278. - -Gosan, Lakes of, ii. 41. - -Gosford, ii. 356. - -Grande Chartreuse, La, ii. 258. - -Grant, Dr., Bishop of Southwark, ii. 432. - ----- Frederick Forsyth, i. 440; - ii. 151, 168. - -Granville, Mr. Court, and Lady Charlotte, ii. 353. - -Gregory, Mrs., ii. 482-486. - -Gregory XVI., Pope, iii. 74. - -Gresford, i. 96; - ii. 448. - -Grey, Anna Sophia Ryder, Lady, of Falloden, ii. 279, 363. - ----- Charles, 2nd Earl, iii. 36. - ----- Lady Charlotte, widow of the Hon. Gen. Sir Henry Grey of Falloden, - ii. 251, 371, 377; iii. 139, 154. - ----- Lady Elizabeth, ii. 276, 366. - ----- Hon. and Rev. Francis, ii. 276-278, 366. - -----, Sir George, of Falloden, ii. 279, 363; iii. 36. - ----- Sir George, of New Zealand, ii. 214-217; iii. 330. - ----- Lady Georgiana, ii. 332, 334-335, 337-339. - ----- Henry George, 3rd Earl, iii. 35, 36. - ----- Rev. Harry, i. 253. - ----- Mr. John, of Dilston, ii. 266. - ----- Maria, Countess, iii. 35-36. - -Greville, Mrs., _née_ Locke, ii. 94. - -Grigor, Dr., iii. 373. - -Grimaldi, ii. 250. - -Grimaldi, the Marchesa, ii. 320. - -Grote, Harriet Lewin, Mrs., i. 368; ii. 218. - -Grove, Mrs., iii. 394. - -Guildford, the trial at, iii. 294. - -Guizot, M. François Pierre Guillaume, i. 320. - -Gunnora, Duchess of Normandy, i. 319. - -Gurney, Miss Anna, i. 230. - ----- Mrs. Catherine, i. 229. - - -H. - -Haig, the Misses, iii. 378. - -Hale, Dr. Douglas, ii. 369, 497???. - ----- Mrs., ii. 497???; iii. 414. - -Halifax, Miss Caroline, i. 284. - -Hall, Mrs. Richard, iii. 159, 195, 197. - -Hallam, Arthur, i. 509. - -Hallein, mines of, ii. 42. - -Hallingbury, iii. 7. - -Hallstadt, ii. 40. - -Hamilton Palace, ii. 358. - -Hamilton, Alexander, 10th Duke of, ii. 336, 359. - ----- Mrs. Cospatrick Baillie, iii. 395. - ----- Lady Emily, iii. 48. - -Hamilton, Hon. Margaret Dillon, Mrs., i. 382. - ----- Mary, Duchess of, ii. 358. - -Hampden, Great, ii. 8. - -Hanover, King George of, ii. 152, 153. - -Harcourt, Archbishop, iii. 157. - -Hardwicke, Susan, Countess of, ii. 403. - ----- Elizabeth, Countess of, iii. 24-27, 323. - -Hare, Anna-Maria Clementina, i. 11, 13. - ----- Anne Frances Maria Louisa, i. 39, 160, 338-357, 370; ii. 55-57, 70, - 72, 114-115, 182-213, 284, 400, 409-432, 499-517; iii. 68, 89, 232, - 233-272. - ----- Augustus John Cuthbert: birth of, i. 42; - baptism, 50; - adoption, 51; - is sent to England, 53; - childhood of, 54-166; - sent to school at Harnish, 167; - private school life of, 170; - at Harrow, 214-246; - at Lyncombe, 247-296; - at Southgate, 297-401; - tour in Normandy, 318-331; - tour in Belgium, Germany, and France, 377-387; - goes to University College, Oxford, 402; - second tour in Germany and France, 422-436; - in France and Switzerland, 450-465; - in Wales, 501-503; - in Scotland, ii. 17-23; - leaves Oxford, 31; - in Switzerland and Austria, 33-44; - first journey to Rome and Naples, 45-84;\ - summer at Florence and Lucca, 84-103; - autumn in Northern Italy and Paris, 103-128; - writes Murray's Handbook for Berks, Bucks, and Oxfordshire, 133-241; - second summer in Scotland, 162-172; has to leave Hurstmonceaux, 227; - leaves Lime, 243; - settles at Holmhurst, 244; - spends the winter at Mentone, 246-258; - writes Murray's Handbook for Durham and Northumberland, 260-366; - spends the spring at Nice and early summer in Switzerland, 370-380; - second winter at Rome, 384-409; - visit to Eserick, 433; - spring at Pau and Biarritz, 462-497; - summer in Northumberland, iii. 8-49; - third winter at Rome, 50-109; - winter at Cannes, 134-152; - fourth winter at Rome, 183-232; - death of his sister, 232; - is attacked by a Roman Catholic conspiracy, 272-312; - fifth winter at Rome and dangerous illness, 314-320; - fifth winter at Rome, 333-386; - death of his adopted mother, 400. - -Hare, Augustus William, Rector of Alton-Barnes, i. 6, 13, 14, 43-49. - ----- Mrs. Augustus (Maria Leycester), i. 43, 54-80, 98-171, 187-196, - 200-201, 210-212, 240, 254, 259, 262, 365, 376-377, 437-438, 442-444, - 450, 454, 464, 466, 469, 487-492; ii. 14-17, 44-49, 76, 80, 85, 97, 109, - 130, 227-229, 243, 246-247, 259, 326-328, 367-372, 392-393, 460-497; - iii. 3, 84, 103, 107, 110, 141, 183, 187-190, 202-232, 320-322, 331, - 337-419. - ----- Miss Caroline, i. 4, 89, 94, 291. - ----- Caroline, daughter of Francis and Anne, i. 33, 35. - ----- Francis, Dean of St. Paul's and Bishop of St. Asaph and Chichester, - i. 1, 2; ii. 156. - ----- Francis George (the elder), i. 6-21, 26, 29-42, 49-53, 84-85, 95, - 157-159; ii. 57. - ----- Francis George (the younger), i. 35, 92-94, 160, 373-375; ii. - 400-402, 448; iii. 240, 248, 257-259, 276, 278, 282-313. - -Hare, Mrs. (Anne Frances Paul), i. 33-42, 51, 53, 95, 160, 260-261, 276, - 339-355, 370-376; ii. 55-57, 182-213, 214, 397-406; iii. 53, 54. - ----- George, i. 91-94. - ----- Georgiana, afterwards Mrs. Frederick Maurice, i. 13, 16, 82-83, 280. - ----- Gustavus Cockburn, i. 13, 123, 287, 481. - ----- Mrs. Gustavus (Annie Wright), i. 123. - ----- Mrs. Henckel, i. 3, 4, 89, 90. - ----- Henry, i. 91. - ----- Julius Charles, i. 6, 10, 14, 49, 50, 59, 67-75, 77, 80-81, 99, - 104-107, 109-111, 122, 156, 157, 176, 179, 251-253, 261-262, 357, - 466-469, 476, 478, 480-484. - ----- Mrs. Julius (Esther Maurice), i. 178-190, 201-203, 210, 238-240, - 251, 260, 285, 357, 445, 467; ii. 128-129, 393-394. - ----- Marcus Augustus Stanley, i. 74, 86-88; iii. 366, 370. - ----- Marcus Theodore, i. 6, 14, 85, 96, 175, 190, 192, 194-196. - ----- Mrs. Marcus (Hon. Lucy Anne Stanley), i. 49, 74, 167, 175, 178, - 192, 194-196, 201-204; iii. 318-319. - ----- Miss Marianne, i. 4, 10, 89, 95, 291. - ----- Mary Margaret Alston, Mrs., i. 494; ii. 156. - ----- Reginald John, i. 13. - ----- Theodore Julius, i. 160, 204. - ----- Rev. Robert, Rector of Hurstmonceaux, i. 4, 5. - ----- Rev. Canon Robert, i. 2, 6, 494. - -----, William Robert, i. 38, 161, 373-375; ii. 401-402, 411, 452-453, - 514; iii. 241-250. - -Harnham, ii. 351. - -Harnish, i. 170. - -Harris, Hon. Reginald Temple, i. 264, 277, 282. - -Harrison, Archdeacon Benjamin, and Mrs., iii. 331-332. - -Harrow, i. 214. - -Hastings, i. 122. - -Hatfield, i. 307, 313. - -Hawker, Misses Jane and Adelaide, iii. 106-107, 146. - -Hawkestone, i. 148, 208; ii. 327. - -Hawtrey, Dr. Edward Craven, Provost of Eton, ii. 230-232. - ----- Miss, ii. 231. - -Hay, Adam, of King's Meadows, ii. 137; iii. 46, 146. - ----- Miss Ida, ii. 372. - ----- Sir Adam, ii. 357; iii. 146. - -Heber, Rev. Reginald, Rector of - Hodnet, and Bishop of Calcutta, i. 44. - ----- Mrs. Reginald (Emilia Shipley), i. 45; iii. 125. - -Hedley, Rev. W., Dean of University College, afterwards Rector of - Beckley, i. 405. - -Heidelberg, i. 380. - -Heiligenkreutz, ii. 38. - -Henckel, Mrs., i. 90. - -Herries, Marcia, Lady, iii. 237. - -Hesleyside, ii. 343. - -Hibbert, Caroline Cholmondeley, Mrs., iii. 117. - -Hickledon Hall, ii. 283. - -Higginson, Miss Adelaide, i. 479. - ----- Lady Frances, i. 479. - -High Force, the, ii. 340. - -Hill, Ann, Viscountess, i. 148. - ----- Sir Rowland, i. 147. - ----- Viscount, i. 145. - -Hobart, Vere Henry, Lord, and Mary Catherine, Lady, ii. 389. - -Hodnet, i. 143; ii. 327. - -Hogg, James, the Ettrick Shepherd, ii. 314-315. - -Holmhurst, ii. 241-246, 259, 368; iii. 320. - -Holy Island, ii. 271-272. - -Hood, Henry, iii. 152. - -Hope, Lady Mildred, ii. 14. - -Hornby, Mrs., of Dalton, iii. 80, 131, 329-330. - -Horsley, Bishop, iii. 332. - -Hosmer, Miss Harriet, the sculptress, iii. 76, 368. - -Hos Tendis, i. 4. - -Houblon, Mr., and Mrs. Archer, ii. 390; iii. 7. - -Houghton, Robert Monckton, 1st Lord, iii. 229, 360. - -Hour, the Holy, ii. 499. - -Housesteads, ii. 343. - -Howard, Edward Henry, Monsignor, afterwards Cardinal, ii. 67. - ----- Lady Victoria, iii. 145. - -Howick, iii. 34, 35. - -Hughan, Miss Janetta, ii. 284. - -Hughes, Miss, "Sister Marion," i. 473-474. - -Hull, Henry Winstanley, i. 164, 196-197, 501. - -Hulne Abbey, iii. 33. - -Hunt, Sir J., iii. 31. - -Hurstmonceaux, i. 1-4, 9-12, 54-60, 93, 156-158, 164-166, 187-190, - 258-260, 437-438, 475-478, 504-507; ii. 14, 227-228; iii. 410-411, - 413-416. - -Hutt, William, M.P. for Gateshead, ii. 180. - -Hyères, ii. 370. - - -I. - -Ignatius, Brother, iii. 81-82. - -Ingilby, Elizabeth Macdowell, Lady, of Ripley, ii. 283, 337. - ----- Miss, ii. 332. - -Irongray Church, the, ii. 164. - - -J. - -Jackson, Dean of Christ Church, i. 15. - -Janin, Jules, iii. 6. - -Jelf, Dr., Canon of Christ Church, ii. 152-153. - -Jersey, Sarah, Countess of, iii. 8-9. - -Jerusalem, Bishopric of, i. 163. - -Jeune, Dr. Francis, Master of Pembroke College, afterwards Bishop of - Peterborough, ii. 6; iii. 161-168. - -Jocelyn, Lady Frances Cowper, Viscountess, iii. 140. - -Johnson, Mr., of Akeley Heads, ii. 264-265. - -Jolliffe, Colonel Hylton, i. 25. - -Jones, Anna Maria Shipley, Lady, i. 6, 13, 16; ii. 144. - ----- Mr., of Branxton, ii. 280. - ----- Sir William, i. 6. - -Jowett, Rev. Benjamin, tutor and Master of Balliol, i. 402, 404, 420, - 439, 472; ii. 221, 222. - -Joyce, Miss, iii. 95. - - -K. - -Keith, Lady, iii. 26. - -Kershaw, Rev. E., and Mrs., ii. 388. - -Kielder, ii. 342. - -Kilvert, Rev. Robert, i. 167, 172, 213. - -Kilvert, Thermuthis Coleman, Mrs. Robert, i. 168. - -King's Meadows, ii. 357. - -Kirk-Newton, ii. 362. - -Knaresborough, ii. 332. - -Knebel, Mademoiselle, ii. 387. - -Knox, Mrs. John, ii. 274. - -Königsfelden, iii. 108. - -Kuper, Mrs. and Miss, iii. 338, 339. - - -L. - -Labre, the Venerable, ii. 443. - -Landor, Julia Thuillier, Mrs., ii. 92, 407. - ----- Walter Savage, i. 16, 18, 26, 37, 265-268, 270, 277, 289, 292, 510; - ii. 111-112, 407-409. - -Laire, M., the antiquary, i. 324. - -Lamarre, M., ii. 404-405. - -Lamartine, Alphonse de, iii. 383. - -Langford, Elizabeth, Viscountess, iii. 129. - -Larmignac, Mademoiselle Martine de, ii. 193, 505. - -Large, Mrs., iii. 309, 310. - -Lawley, Hon. and Rev. Stephen, ii. 433. - -Lawrence, Sir Thomas, i. 21. - -Lea, Mary, i. 50, 54, 60, 78, 117, 122, 124, 150, 171, 205, 487. - -Lefevre, Sir John Shaw, ii. 213, 454. - -Legh of Lyme, Emily Wodehouse, Mrs., iii. 113, 116. - -Lehmann, Dr., i. 9, 11. - -Leigh, Miss Theodosia, i. 178. - -Lennox, Lady Arthur, ii. 354. - ------ Miss Ethel, ii. 354. - -Le Puy, iii. 149. - -L'Estelle, ii. 480, 487. - -Le Strange, Hamon Styleman, of Hunstanton, ii. 137. - -Leslie, Lady, ii. 322-324. - -Leuk, Baths of, i. 460. - -Leycester, Miss Emma Theodosia, i. 114, 500; ii. 477-481. - ----- Mr. and Mrs. Henry, of White Place, ii. 156-157. - ----- Judge Hugh, i. 141. - ----- Maria, youngest daughter of Rev. Oswald, i. 33. - ----- Miss Charlotte, i. 114, 317, 376, 450, 454-458, 480, 487, 499; ii. - 33, 161, 289, 479; iii. 200, 208-221, 322, 397, 398. - ----- Miss Georgiana, iii. 200. - ----- Mrs. Oswald (Elizabeth White), i. 102, 126-142, 209, 228-229, 272-274. - ----- Rev. Oswald, Rector of Stoke upon Terne, i. 44, 61, 126, 207-208. - ----- Ralph, of Toft, i. 317. - ----- Mrs. Susannah, wife of Ralph Leycester of Toft, i. 66. - -Lichfield, ii. 330. - -Liddell, Miss Amelia, ii. 264, 271. - ----- Hon. Colonel Augustus, iii. 367. - ----- Hon. Mrs. Augustus, iii. 367. - ----- Miss Charlotte, ii. 264, 271. - ----- Charlotte Lyon, Mrs., i. 283; ii. 263, 271; iii. 8, 171. - ----- Edward, iii. 365-368. - ----- Hon. George, ii. 262, 263, 318, 321. - ----- Hon. Mrs. George, ii. 263, 318. - ----- Hon. Hedworth, ii. 364. - ----- Henry, Head-master of Westminster and Dean of Christ Church, i. 283; - ii. 9, 157. - ----- Rev. Henry, Rector of Easington, and trustee of Bamborough Castle, - i. 283; ii. 263; iii. 8-10, 171. - ----- Maria Susannah Simpson, Lady, i. 25. - ----- Hon. Thomas, ii. 139. - ----- Rev. William, ii. 264. - -Lime, at Hurstmonceaux in Sussex, i. 57-60, 66-75. - -Limosin, Madame Flora, iii. 311, 339, 349. - -Lincluden Abbey, ii. 164. - -Lind, Madame Jenny, i. 236. - -Lindsay, Lady Margaret, iii. 27. - -Liszt, Franz, ii. 389. - -Londonderry, Frances Anne, Marchioness of, iii. 9. - ----- Mary, Marchioness of, iii. 270. - -Lothian, Lady Cecil Talbot, widow of the 7th Marquis of, i. 339, 356; - ii. 398-404, 409, 444; iii. 153, 270, 287, 294, 298. - ----- William Schomberg, 8th Marquis of, iii. 47. - ----- Constance, Marchioness of, iii. 47. - -Louis, King, of Bavaria, ii. 374. - -Lovat, Simon, Lord, ii. 351. - -Lucca, Bagni di, ii. 93. - -Lucchesi, Marchese, iii. 17. - -Lucerne, ii. 33. - -Lucy, Mrs., of Charlecote, ii. 14. - -Lushington, Dr., ii. 298-309. - -Lyall, William Rowe, Dean of Canterbury, i. 359. - -Lyme Hall, iii. 113. - -Lyncombe, i. 261. - -Lyne, Rev. Leycester, iii. 81. - -Lynn-Linton, Mrs., i. 268. - -Lyon, Sir John, of Glamis, i. 23. - ----- Sir John, first Baron Kinghorn, i. 22. - ----- Thomas, of Hetton, ii. 317. - ----- Mrs. Thomas, of Hetton, ii. 317. - -Lyons, i. 451. - - -M. - -Macaulay, Lord, i. 515; ii. 218. - -Macmurdo, General, iii. 176. - -Macon, iii. 383. - -Macsween, Alexander, i. 171. - -Mainsforth, ii. 309. - -Makrina, La Madre, of Minsk, ii. 72-74. - -Malcolm, Miss Ann Emilia, i. 435. - ----- Lady, i. 435. - ----- Miss Kate, i. 435. - -Malmesbury, James Edward, 2nd Earl of, iii. ???. - -Manners, Lady John, ii. 284. - -Manners-Sutton, Archbishop, iii. 157. - -Mannheim, i. 53, 383. - -Manning, Archdeacon Henry, afterwards Cardinal, i. 98, 339; ii. 395; - iii. 1, 308, 360. - -Mantua, iii. 337. - -Marbourg, i. 425. - -Marie Amelie, Queen of the French, i. 274. - -Marie-Anne, Sœur, ii. 443. - -Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, ii. 298; - prison of, ii. 125. - -Marlborough, John, 1st Duke of, i. 1. - -Marsh, Miss Catherine, i. 407; ii. 289; iii. 245-247, 250. - -Martin, Baron, iii. 297. - -Masham, Mrs., ii. 309. - -Massie, Mrs., iii. 113. - -Mastai-Ferretti, Conte, ii. 236-240. - -Matfen, ii. 266, 346. - -Matthias, Maria de, foundress of the "Order of the Precious Blood," ii. - 426, 438-442; iii. 86, 238-239. - -Maurice (Annie Barton), Mrs. Frederick, i. 70. - ----- Esther Jane, i. 73, 112, 176-178. - ----- Rev. Frederick Denison, i. 70-72, 111, 280. - ----- Georgiana Hare, Mrs. Frederick, iii. 412. - ----- Harriet, i. 179. - ----- Mary, i. 179, 182. - -Maurice, Priscilla, i. 70-73, 112, 181-182, 410. - -Maximilian, Archduke and Emperor, ii. 36. - -Medine, Count Battistino, iii. 338. - -Melun, M., Protestant pasteur at Caen, i. 321. - -Mentone, ii. 246-258; iii. 185. - -Merlini, Don Giovanni, Father-General of the Precious Blood, ii. 425, - 427, 442. - -Merode, Monsignor de, iii. 70. - -Meyer, M. Carl Friedrich, i. 382. - -Mezzofanti, Cardinal, i. 9. - -Milligan, William Henry, i. 416, 420, 422, 493, 499; ii. 1, 2, 131. - -Milman, Henry Hart, Dean of St. Paul's, ii. 231. - -Milner, Elizabeth Mordaunt, Lady, i. 96. - -Mohl, M. Julius, ii. 118. - ----- Madame, ii. 118-121; iii. 5-7. - -Monceaux, Château de, iii. 383. - -Monk, Miss, iii. 203. - -Montagu, Lady Elizabeth, ii. 437. - -Montbard, iii. 383. - -Mont Blanc, the tour of, i. 458. - -Monteith, Robert, of Carstairs, iii. 95, 288, 293, 295. - ----- Wilhelmina Mellish, wife of Robert Monteith of Carstairs, ii. 427; - iii. 289, 290, 294. - -Monte Cassino, ii. 78. - -Montgolfier, Madame de, iii. 385. - -Montgomery, Hon. Mrs. Alfred, iii. 71, 96, 239, 280, 282, 284, 289, 294, 301. - -Moore, Archdeacon Henry, of Stafford, i. 164; ii. 132. - -Morlot, Cardinal Archbishop of Paris, ii. 121-122. - -Morpeth, ii. 277, 365. - -Morini, Padre Agostino, iii. 256. - -Morley, Albert-Edmund, 3rd Earl of, iii. 145. - ----- Harriet, Countess of, iii. 139. - -Mounteagle, Lady, iii. 158. - -Mount-Edgecumbe, Caroline, Countess of, ii. 356. - ----- Katherine, Countess of, iii. 138. - ----- William Henry, 4th Earl of, iii. 137, 145. - -Munich, iii. 336. - -Munn, Rev. John Reade, iii. 415. - -Murray, John, the third, ii. 133, 134, 260. - - -N. - -Naples, ii. 80. - ----- Francesco II., King of, iii. 90-97 - ----- Marie of Bavaria, Queen of, iii. 86, 94. - ----- Marie Thérèse Isabelle, Queen of, iii. 86, 189. - -Napoleon I., i. 91. - -Napoleon III., Emperor of the French, ii. 508. - -Narni, iii. 100. - -Naworth, ii. 354. - -Naylor, Anna Maria Mealey, Mrs. Hare, i. 13, 82-83, 280, 287. - ----- Bethaia, i. 4. - ----- Francis, i. 1. - ----- Francis Hare, i. 5, 11. - ----- Georgiana Shipley, Mrs. Hare, i. 5-12. - ----- Miss Grace, i. 1, 260. - ----- Robert Hare, i. 2. - -Neri, S. Filippo, iii. 201. - -Neuchâtel, ii. 113. - -New Abbey, ii. 164. - -Newbattle Abbey, iii. 47. - -Newcastle-on-Tyne, ii. 318. - -Newman, Rev. John Henry, afterwards Cardinal, iii. 1-2. - -Nice, ii. 370. - -Nicholas I., Emperor of Russia, ii. 74, 506. - -Nicholson, Miss, iii. 372. - -Normanby, Maria Liddell, wife of the 1st Marquis of, ii. 93, 204, 212. - -Northcote, Captain and Mrs., ii. 364. - -North Berwick, ii. 357. - -Norwich, i. 116-120, 229. - -Nunnington Hall, i. 16. - -Nuremberg, i. 435. - - -O. - -Oberlin, ii. 109. - -Oberwesel, iii. 232. - -Ogle, Miss, the authoress, ii. 350. - -Orvieto, ii. 84, 385. - -Ossulston, Charles, Lord, ii. 268-269. - -Otterburn, ii. 344. - -Oxenham, Rev. W., i. 236. - -Oxford, Samuel Wilberforce, Bishop of, iii. 153. - ----- Countess of, i. 18. - - -P. - -Padua, iii. 338-339. - -Pæstum, ii. 83. - -Pallavicini, Carolina, Princess, ii. 59. - -Palmer, Mr. William, ii. 207. - -Palmerston, H. Temple, 1st Earl of, i. 12. - -Panizzi, Sir Antonio, ii. 132; iii. 142. - -Pantaleone, Dr., ii. 374-376. - -Paolucci di Calboli, Marchese Annibale, ii. 388. - ----- Marchese Raniero, ii. 388. - -Papillon, Rev. Henry, iii. 412. - ----- Mrs. H., iii. 414. - -Paray le Monial, ii. 445, 499. - -Paris, i. 318-319, 327; ii. 114-128. - -Parisani, Palazzo, i. 261, 340, 373; ii. 55-56; iii. 190. - -Parker, John Henry, ii. 9; iii. 319. - ----- Mrs. J. H., i. 473. - ----- Lady Katherine, iii. 145. - -Parry, Catherine, Lady, i. 279. - ----- Sir Edward, the Arctic voyager, i. 114, 279. - ----- Edward, Bishop of Dover, i. 279. - ----- (Isabella Stanley) Lady, first, wife of Sir Edward, i. 114. - ----- Serjeant, iii. 298, 299, 303. - -Pastacaldi, Padre, iii. 313. - -Paterson, Mrs., of Linlathen, ii. 165. - ----- Monsignor, iii. 294, 295, 301, 302, 307. - -Patrizi, Cardinal, iii. 76. - -Pattenden, Deborah, i. 211. - -Paul, Anne Frances, i. 25, 26, 30. - ----- Eleanor-Maria, i. 42, 95, 351-352; ii. 69-70, 94, 103-106, 206, - 411-415; iii. 262, 266, 315. - ----- Elizabeth Halifax, Lady, i. 284, 295, 453. - ----- Frances Eleanor, Lady, i. 21, 26. - ----- Jane, i. 28, 295. - ----- Sir John Dean, Bart., i. 21, 30, 50, 84, 284, 295. - ----- Sir John Dean, the younger, i. 495. - ----- Maria Horatia, i. 27, 296. - ----- Mary, Lady, widow of Berkeley, Napier of Pennard, i. 84. - ----- William Wentworth, i. 295. - -Payne, Mrs., iii. 87. - -Peabody, Mr. George, ii. 372-374. - ----- Robert, iii. 341, 344, 360, 370. - -Peakirk, iii. 165. - -Pearson, Rev. Hugh, Rector of Sonning, i. 120, 411, 470; ii. 221. - -Peebles, ii. 357. - -Peglia, ii. 253. - -Peglione, ii. 253, 255, 372. - -Pellerin, Monsignor, ii. 68-69. - -Pellew, Hon. George, Dean of Norwich, i. 231. - -Pencaitland, ii. 356. - -Pennyman, Lady, ii. 337-338. - -Penrhyn, Lady Charlotte, i. 48, 141-142, 408-409. - ----- Edward, i. 48, 69, 208, 408, 464, 514; ii. 259-260. - ----- Miss Emma, i. 383-384, 408, 464; iii. 377, 414. - ----- Mr. and Mrs. Leycester, iii. 414. - -Percy, Lord Henry, iii. 145. - ----- Hugh Heber, iii. 159. - ----- Mrs. Heber (Emily Heber), ii. 159. - ----- Dr. Hugh, Bishop of Carlisle, ii. 160. - -Petit, Miss Emma, ii. 328. - ----- Rev. J. L., the ecclesiologist, ii. 256-258, 330. - -Pietra Santa, ii. 102. - -Pile, Mr. Robert, i. 60; iii. 112. - ----- Mrs. Robert, i. 60, 171, 192, 278. - -Piombino, Prince and Princess, ii. 428. - -Piper, Mrs., i. 103, 260. - -Pisa, ii. 101; iii. 52, 190, 310-312, 338-358. - -Pitcairn, Mrs., ii. 289. - -Pius IX., Pope, i. 341; ii. 61-64, 289, 428; iii. 70, 71, 80, 93, 167, - 190, 319, 360. - -Playfair, Sir Hugh Lyon, Provost of St. Andrews, ii. 170. - -Plumptre, Rev. Edward, Dean of Wells, i. 179. - ----- Rev. Dr. Frederick Charles, Master of University College, i. 405, - 441, 474 - ----- Harriet Maurice, Mrs. E., i. 179. - -Pole, Lady Louisa, i. 354. - ----- Miss Marguerite, i. 352-357; iii. 248. - ----- Sir Peter Van Notten, i. 352. - -Polignac, Duc de, iii. 43. - -Ponsonby, Miss Melita, ii. 358. - -Porson, Dr. Richard, ii. 376. - -Portman, Hon. Walter, i. 306, 308, 332, 452. - -Port Royal, ii. 125. - -Porto Fino, ii. 254. - ----- Venere, iii. 51. - -Poulevey, Père de, ii. 416. - -Powell, Lucilla Maurice, Mrs., i. 179. - -Prague, i. 432. - -Praslin, Duchesse de, i. 245; iii. 19-20. - -Prât, Marquis and Marquise de, ii. 115. - -Preignier, Marquise du, ii. 118. - -Prentiss, Mr., i. 164. - -Prosperi, Monsignor, iii. 70. - -Pusey, Dr. Edward Bouverie, iii. 70. - - -R. - -Ramsay, Mrs., iii. 193, 198. - -Rathdonnell, Lady, iii. 83. - -Ratisbon, Le Père, ii. 68. - -Ravenna, ii. 48. - -Ravensworth, Henry Liddell, Earl of, ii. 453. - -Ravignan, Père de, i. 353, 355. - -Reedswire, the, ii. 345. - -Reisach, Cardinal de, iii. 96. - -Rianzares, Duc de, ii. 57. - -Richmond, Elizabeth Liddell, Mrs. - -Brook, ii. 208, 209, 213. - -----George, the artist, ii. 214. - -Ridley Hall, ii. 172-178, 266, 272, 341; iii. 170. - -Rignano, Emilio, Duke of, ii. 70. - -Rimini, ii. 49. - -Ripley Castle, ii. 283, 332-336. - -Robinson, Miss, ii. 310-317. - -Rockend, i. 85-87, 251. - -Roddam, Mr. and Mrs., of Roddam, ii. 280, 282, 364. - -Roleston, Mary Pierina, Abbess of the Precious Blood, ii. 425, 438-442; - iii. 238, 266-268, 270, 274, 275, 287, 295, 298, 305, 306. - -Rome, ii. 54-76, 387-391, 422-432; iii. 65-100, 313-319, 359-378. - -Rosam, Miss, i. 504. - -Rothbury, ii. 365. - -Rousham, ii. 150. - -Routh, Dr. Joseph Martin, President of Magdalen, i. 447-450. - -Rowley, Charlotte Shipley, Hon. Mrs., iii. 129. - -Royat, Baths of, iii. 150. - -Ruskin, John, ii. 107-109, 277, 484. - -Russell, Lady Frankland, ii. 8, 240. - ----- Sir John, of Chequers, ii. 240. - ----- Mr. and Lady Emily, iii. 368. - -Rutherford, of Egerton, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 322-324. - -Ruthven, Mary, Lady, ii. 335-337, 354-356; iii. 39, 42-43, 47. - -Rutson, Albert, ii. 7, 9, 16. - -Rye House, the, i. 314. - -Ryton, ii. 320. - - -S. - -Sackville, S. Stopford, of Drayton, ii. 137. - -Sainte Aldegonde, Madame, iii. 71. - -St. Andrews, ii. 19, 170. - -S. Bernard, Le Grand, i. 459. - -S. Denis, i. 327. - -S. Emilion, ii. 494. - -S. Gemignano, iii. 342-344. - -S. Giorgio, Lady Anne, ii. 86-90; iii. 192-193, 358. - ----- Contessa Carolina di, ii. 90-91; iii. 191. - -S. Pierre, Le Curé de, ii. 420. - -S. Remo, ii. 377. - -Salette, La, ii. 512. - -Salis, Comtesse de, ii. 233-237. - -Salt, Miss Harriet, ii. 328. - ----- Miss Sarah, ii. 256-258, 328. - -Salzburg, ii. 40; iii. 231. - -Sandwich Islands, Emma, Queen Dowager of the, iii. 2-3, 109. - -Santa-Croce, Catherine Scully, Princess of, ii. 59-61. - ----- Donna Vincenza, iii. 91. - -Sartines, M. de, ii. 145. - -Savona, iii. 186. - -Saxon Switzerland, i. 430. - -Saye and Sele, 14th Baron, ii. 152. - -Schouvaloff, Count, ii. 65. - -Scott, Sir Walter, ii. 166, 309, 312-314. - -Sculthorpe, i. 4. - -Sedgwick, Professor Adam, i. 120, 164. - -Selman, Sarah, i. 3. - -Sepolti Vivi, the, iii. 73-76. - -Serafina della Croce, iii. 234-235, 287. - -Serlupi, Marchese, iii. 190, 197. - -Sermoneta, Margherita, Duchess of, ii. 58. - ----- Michelangelo, Duke of, ii. 58; iii. 87. - -Servites, Order of the, ii. 445. - -Sestri, iii. 187. - -Seymour, Mrs. Hamilton, iii. 395. - -Shaw-Lefevre, Miss Maria, ii. 392. - ----- Miss Mary, ii. 392. - -Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft, Mrs., i. 39 - ----- Lady, ii. 278. - -Sheffield, George, i. 421, 446, 493; ii. 5-8, 33-38, 132, 156. - -Shipley, Anna Maria, i. 13. - ----- Anna Maria Mordaunt, Mrs., i. 5. - ----- Emilia, i. 84. - ----- Jonathan, Bishop of St. Asaph, i. 5. - ----- Mrs. Louisa, i. 20, 84, 95, 96. - ----- William, Dean of St. Asaph, iii. 123-129. - -Shrewsbury, 16th Earl, and Countess of, i. 230. - -Siddons, Mrs., i. 133; ii. 310. - -Siena, iii. 341-342. - -Simpkinson, Miss Emma, iii. 50, 208, 220, 228, 397. - ----- Rev. John Nassau, i. 122, 214, 243. - ----- Miss Louisa, i. 122, 123, 214. - -Simpson, Lady Anne, i. 22-26, 351; ii. 320. - ----- John, of Bradley, i. 22. - -Skiddaw, ascent of, ii. 165. - -Sloper, Rev. John, i. 84. - -Smith, Goldwin, i. 415, 448. - ----- "Sir Hugh," i. 437. - ----- Mrs. Spencer, iii. 395. - ----- Rev. Sydney, i. 515; ii. 316, 317. - -Somerton, Caroline, Viscountess, ii. 139. - -Sonning, i. 411, 470. - -Sora, Agnese, Duchess of, ii. 59, 405, 424, 428; iii. 95, 253. - ----- Rudolfo, Duke of, ii. 59, 428; iii. 95. - -Sorrento, ii. 81, 396. - -South Wraxhall Manor, i. 272. - -Southgate, i. 297. - -Souvigny, iii. 152. - -Soveral, M. and Madame de, iii. 198. - -Spencer, 5th Earl, and Countess, ii. 213. - -Splugen, Passage of the, iii. 107. - -Spoleto, iii. 101. - -Spy, the family, i. 370-376. - -Squires, Dr., iii. 262-264, 297. - -Staël, Madame de, iii. 416. - -Stanhope, Hon. Edward, ii. 137. - -Stanley, Arthur Penrhyn, i. 67, 118-120, 230, 236, 238, 264, 284, - 357-366, 383, 393, 402, 439, 471, 481, 483, 491; ii. 122-126, 132, - 135-137, 153-155, 158-159, 220-222, 290, 380-381, 390, 497-498; iii. - 110, 153, 158-159, 414-415. - ----- Lady Augusta, ii. 390, 497-498???; iii. 110, 153, 158, 414. - ----- Catherine Maria, afterwards Mrs. C. Vaughan, i. 66, 69, 118, 210, - 281, 291. - ----- Captain Charles Edward, i. 156, 281. - ----- Mrs. Charles Edward, ii. 45. - ----- Rev. Edward, Rector of Alderley, and afterwards Bishop of Norwich, - i. 44, 62, 66, 69, 117-118, 132, 231-236, 280. - ----- Mrs. Edward (Catherine Leycester), i. 44, 62, 102, 118, 124, 208, - 257, 281, 299-301, 360, 383, 399, 407, 471, 514-515; ii. 122-124, 132, - 290-292. - ----- Hon. Emmeline, ii. 133. - ----- Hon. Louisa, i. 412; ii. 140-141. - ----- Maria Josepha, Lady Stanley of Alderley, i. 114, 140-143, 411-412. - ----- Hon. Maria Margaret, i. 412; ii. 140. - ----- Mary, i. 69, 118, 210, 331, 383, 471; ii. 8, 9, 10, 11; iii. 4, - 281, 287, 289, 304, 414. - ----- Captain Owen, i. 281. - -Stanley, William Owen of Penrhos, i. 502. - ----- Mrs. W. Owen, i. 502. - -Stapleton, Lady, iii. 124. - -Star, Thomas, i. 169. - -Stephanie, Grand Duchess of Baden, i. 383, 385. - -Sterling, Rev. John, i. 70. - -Stewart, Robert Shaw, iii. 48, 49. - -Stirling, Mrs., of Glenbervie, iii. 48. - ----- Mrs., of Kippenross, iii. 40-42. - ----- Mrs., of Linlathen, ii. 165. - -Stirling-Graham, Miss Clementina, of Duntrune, ii. 165. - -Stisted, Mrs., of the Bagni di Lucca, ii. 94. - -Stoke upon Terne, i. 61, 64, 124-151; ii. 160, 327. - -Stonebyres, ii. 360. - -Stonehenge, ii. 155. - -Stoney, Mr. Robinson, i. 24. - -Story, Miss Amelia, ii. 466. - ----- William, the sculptor, iii. 368. - -Stowe, Mrs. Beecher, i. 515. - -Strathmore, Charles, 6th Earl, i. 23. - ----- John, 5th Earl, i. 23. - ----- John, 9th Earl of, ii. 172. - ----- John, 10th Earl of, ii. 173, 178. - ----- Mary Eleanor Bowes, wife of the 9th Earl of, i. 24; ii. 172, 275. - ----- Mary Milner, widow of the 10th Earl of, i. 53; ii. 178-180. - -Streatham Castle, ii. 178, 274. - -Strettel, Mr. and Mrs., ii. 254. - -Strickland, Mr., of Cokethorpe, ii. 151. - -Stuart, Charles Edward, ii. 515. - ----- Lady Euphemia, i. 23. - ----- Lady Jane, i. 22. - ----- John Sobieski Stolberg, ii. 515. - ----- Lady Louisa, i. 301. - ----- de Rothesay, Elizabeth, Lady, ii. 280-282, 360. - -Stuttgart, iii. 336. - -Suffolk, Charles John, 17th Earl of, iii. 139, 145. - ----- Isabella, Countess of, iii. 139, 149. - -Sumner, John Bird, Archbishop of Canterbury, i. 407. - -Surtees of Mainsforth, the historian and poet, ii. 309, 313. - ----- of Mainsforth, Mrs., ii. 309-317. - -Sutherland, Anna Hay-Mackenzie, Duchess of, iii. 245. - -Sutton Place, ii. 217. - -Swinburne, Sir John, ii. 350. - - -T. - -Taddini, Conte Luigi, iii. 83. - -Tait, Archibald Campbell, Bishop of London, afterwards Archbishop of - Canterbury, iii. 35-36, 39. - ----- Crawford, iii. 39. - ----- Mrs., iii. 35-36, 39. - -Talbot, Monsignor, ii. 67; iii. 190, 238, 252. - -Tambroni, Clotilda, Professor of Greek at Bologna, i. 6-9. - -Tankerville, Charles, 5th Earl of, iii. 33. - ----- Charles, 6th Earl of, ii. 267-271, 365. - ----- Olivia, Countess of, ii. 267-271; iii. 32, 33. - -Tatton, Miss Fanny, iii. 401. - -Tayler, Rev. Charles, i. 98. - -Tayleur, Miss Harriet, i. 143-144, 501; ii. 326; iii. 113. - ----- Miss Mary, i. 143-144, 501; ii. 326. - ----- Mr. and Mrs., of Buntingsdale, i. 143. - ----- William, of Buntingsdale, ii. 326. - -Taylor, Dr., afterwards Sir Alexander, ii. 466, 467; iii. 295. - ----- E. Cavendish, iii. 203. - ----- Julia Hare, Mrs., afterwards Lady, i. 90; ii. 466, 476. - -Teano, Ada, Princess, iii. 193. - -Teesdale, ii. 340. - -Temple, Harry, i. 12. - -Tennyson, Alfred, the Poet Laureate, i. 258. - -Tenterden steeple, iii. 332. - -Terry, Mrs., iii. 375, 376. - -Thirlwall, Connop, Bishop of St. David's, i. 164, 437, 482. - -Thomas, John, Bishop of Peterborough, ii. 338. - -Thornton, Harriet Heber, Mrs. John, ii. 144-149. - -Thornycroft, ii. 161. - -Thorpe, Mrs., iii. 237, 262. - -Tivoli, iii. 370. - -Torcello, iii. 230. - -Torchio, iii. 236-237. - -Torlonia, Duke of, ii. 295-297. - -Torre, Contessa della, ii. 448-449. - -Toul, iii. 333. - -Tours, ii. 464. - -Townshend, Mrs., i. 96. - -Trafford, Edward William, of Wroxham, ii. 193, 406, 506. - ----- Martine Larmignac, Madame de, ii. 186-200, 406, 412-415, 500-513; - iii. 53-64, 251-254, 260, 265. - -Trani, Mathilde of Bavaria, Countess of, iii. 86. - -Trenca, M. et Madame, ii. 247. - -Trench, Mrs. Richard, ii. 434. - -Trent, iii. 231. - -Trevelyan, Sir Charles, ii. 348. - ----- Paulina, Lady, ii. 277, 348-350. - ----- Mrs. Spencer, ii. 351. - ----- Mrs. Raleigh, ii. 351. - ----- Sir Walter, ii. 277, 348-351. - -Treves, i. 385. - -Tronchin, Colonel, of Geneva, i. 453. - -Trotter, Captain, i. 315. - ----- Hon. Charlotte Liddell, Mrs., i. 315. - -Troutbeck, John, afterwards Minor Canon of Westminster, i. 414, 417, 419, 446. - -Tufton, i. 278. - -Turin, ii. 106. - -Turner, Miss, iii. 114-115. - -Tusculum, ii. 391. - -Tytler, Christina Fraser, iii. 368. - - -U. - -Ugolini, Cardinal, iii. 71. - -Ungern Sternberg, Baroness Theodora von, iii. 109. - -Unthank, iii. 169. - -Usedom, Baron and Baroness von, i. 435; iii. 104-106. - - -V. - -Val Anzasca, ii. 109. - -Val Richer, i. 320. - -Vallombrosa, ii. 84; iii. 381. - -Valsamachi, Emily Shipley, Countess, ii. 145, 159, 160, 327. - -Van de Weyer, Madame, ii. 232. - ----- M. Sylvain, ii. 231-232. - -Vatche, the, in Buckinghamshire, i. 2, 3, 493; ii. 156. - -Vaucher, Mademoiselle, ii. 379. - -Vaudois, the, ii. 109. - -Vaughan, Dr. Charles, afterwards Dean of Llandaff, i. 214, 218, 281, - 336; ii. 213, 260, 414. - ----- Mrs. Charles (Catherine Maria Stanley), i. 281, 311, 315, 336; ii. - 213, 261; iii. 170. - -Vauriol, Vicomte de, iii. 354. - -Veii, ii. 391. - -Venables, Rev. E., afterwards Canon and Precentor of Lincoln, i. 240. - -Vernon, Augustus Henry, 6th Lord, iii. 140. - -Verona, iii. 230, 337. - -Verulam, Elizabeth, Countess of, iii. 139. - -Vetturino travelling, ii. 46-49. - -Vicenza, iii. 338. - -Victor-Emmanuel, King of Italy, ii. 376. - -Victoria, Queen of England, ii. 286-288. - -Victorine, Madame, iii. 89-90. - -Vienna, ii. 36. - -Vigne, Père la, i. 338. - -Vine's Gate, iii. 393. - - -W. - -Waddington, Dean of Durham, ii. 265. - ----- M., Minister of Foreign Affairs and Ambassador in London, i. 319; - ii. 109. - -Wagner, Rev. George, i. 79, 80. - ----- Mrs., i. 79; ii. 427; iii. 397. - -Wake, Sir Baldwin, ii. 151. - -Waldegrave, Sarah, Countess, iii. 397. - -Wales, Albert Edward, Prince of, ii. 381. - ----- Alexandra, Princess of, ii. 381. - -Walker, Frederick J., i. 309, 332, 398. - -"Walks in Rome," iii. 388, 397, 408. - -Wallington, ii. 277, 347-352. - -Walpole, Sir Robert, i. 2. - -Waltham Abbey, i. 311. - -Wantage, ii. 222. - -Warburton, Mrs. Eliot, i. 510, 511-513; ii. 12. - ----- Miss Sydney, i. 510. - -Warkworth, ii. 278, 352. - -Warren, Miss Anna, ii. 144. - ----- Penelope Shipley, Mrs., i. 165-166; ii. 143-144; iii. 125. - -Waterford, John, Marquis of, ii. 280. - ----- Henry, Marquis of, ii, 362. - ----- Louisa, Marchioness of, ii. 280-282, 360-363; iii. 10-13, 23-31, 323-327. - -Way, Albert, i. 503; ii. 133. - -Wayland Smith's cave, ii. 230. - -Webster, Charlotte Adamson, Lady, iii. 177. - -Weeping Cross, ii. 328. - -Wellesley, Rev. Dr. Henry, Principal of New Inn Hall, and Rector of - Hurstmonceaux, i. 16; ii. 213, 244, 294-297. - -Wellington, Arthur Wellesley, 1st Duke of, i. 393. - -Wells, i. 308. - -Wells, Lady Louisa, ii. 356; iii. 140. - -Wemyss, Francis, 8th Earl of, iii. 44. - ----- Louisa, Countess of, ii. 359. - -Wenlock, Caroline, Lady, ii. 389; iii. 153. - -West Woodhay, i. 84, 95. - -Weymouth, ii. 229. - -Whately, Richard, Archbishop of Dublin, i. 228, 283. - -Whewell, William, Master of Trinity, i. 164,; iii. 158. - -Wickham, William, of Binstead Wyke, ii. 217. - -Wilberforce, Samuel, Bishop of Oxford, afterwards of Winchester, i. 470; - iii. 153. - -Wilcot House, i. 278. - -William IV., King, i. 69, 294. - -Williams, Captain, iii. 28, 32. - ----- Sir John and Lady Sarah, i. 302. - -Williamson, Hon. Anne Liddell, Lady, ii. 207, 208, 211, 212, 400, 403. - ----- Captain Charles, ii, 210, 212. - ----- Victor Alexander, ii. 137, 210, 214, 403. - -Wilson, Miss, iii. 382. - ----- Mrs., i. 407. - -Winslow, Dr., iii. 318, 359, 366, 370. - -Winton Castle, ii. 354. - -Wiseman, Nicolas Patrick, Cardinal, ii. 486. - -Wishaw House, ii. 358. - -Wodehouse, Miss Emily, i. 120. - ----- Canon and Lady Jane, i. 120. - -Wood, Alderman, iii. 15. - ----- Hon. Charles Lindley, ii. 137-138, 214, 251-253, 283, 325; iii. 320. - -Wood, Sir Charles, ii. 283. - ----- Lady Mary, ii. 251. - ----- Mrs. Shakespeare, iii. 190, 203. - -Woodward, Mrs., iii. 209, 211, 213, 318, 364, 365, 374, 378. - -Wordsworth, William, the poet, i. 177, 499. - -Worting House, near Basingstoke, i. 13. - -Wright. Miss Sophia, ii. 392; iii. 140, 192, 318. - - -Y. - -Yeatman, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, iii. 414. - -Yetholm, iii. 31. - -Yorke, Lady Elizabeth, i. 214. - - -Z. - -Zermatt, i. 460. - - END OF VOL. III. - -_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO. - -_Edinburgh and London._ - - "THE STORY OF MY LIFE" _is not completed in these volumes. If any - one is sufficiently interested to wish to follow it further, they - may have the opportunity of doing so ... later_. - - - - -_WORKS BY AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE_ - - - -LIFE AND LETTERS OF FRANCES, BARONESS BUNSEN. _Third Edition._ With -Portraits. 2 vols., crown 8vo, cloth, 21_s._ - -MEMORIALS OF A QUIET LIFE. 3 vols., crown 8vo. Vols. I. and II., cloth, -21_s._ (_Nineteenth Edition_); Vol. III., with numerous Photographs, -cloth, 10_s._ 6_d._ - - -"One of those books which it is impossible to read without pleasure. It -conveys a sense of repose not unlike that which everybody must have felt -out of service time in quiet little village churches. 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Crown 8vo, cloth, 6_s._ - -THE STORY OF TWO NOBLE LIVES. CHARLOTTE, COUNTESS CANNING, AND LOUISA, -MARCHIONESS OF WATERFORD. In 3 vols., of about 450 pages each. Crown -8vo, cloth, £l, 11_s._ 6_d._ Illustrated with 11 engraved Portraits and -21 Plates in Photogravure from Lady Waterford's Drawings, 8 full-page -and 24 smaller Woodcuts from Sketches by the Author. - -Also a Special Large Paper Edition, with India Proofs of the Plates. -Crown 4to, £3, 3_s._ _net._ - - -The Embassy at Paris in the time of Louis XVIII. and Louis -Philippe--Life of Lord and Lady Waterford in Ireland--The Story of the -Indian Mutiny as told in Lady Canning's Journals--Lady Waterford's Art -Work, &c. - - -THE GURNEYS OF EARLHAM: Being Memoirs and Letters of the Eleven Children -of JOHN and CATHERINE GURNEY of Earlham, 1775-1875, and the Story of -their Religious Life under many Different Forms. Illustrated with 33 -Photogravure Plates and 19 Woodcuts. In 2 vols., crown 8vo, cloth, -25_s._ 712 pages. - -BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES: Being Memorial Sketches of ARTHUR PENRHYN -STANLEY, Dean of Westminster; HENRY ALFORD, Dean of Canterbury; Mrs. -DUNCAN STEWART; and PARAY LE MONIAL. Illustrated with 7 Portraits and 17 -Woodcuts. 1 vol., crown 8vo, cloth, 8_s._ 6_d._ - -THE STORY OF MY LIFE. Vols. I. to III. Illustrated with 18 Photogravure -Portraits and 120 Woodcuts from Drawings by the Author. Crown 8vo, -cloth, £l, 11_s._ 6_d._ About 1500 pages. - - - - _BY THE LATE AUGUSTUS WILLIAM HARE_ - _RECTOR OF ALTON, BARNES_ - -THE ALTON SERMONS. _Fifth Edition_. Crown 8vo, 7_s._ 6_d._ - -SERMONS ON THE LORD'S PRAYER. Crown 8vo, 1_s._ 6_d._ - -_GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD, LONDON_ - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] See Lord Chesterfield's Letters. - -[2] Dr. Johnson, "The Idler," No. 84. - -[3] Epitaph at Hurstmonceaux. - -[4] Principal of New Inn Hall, and afterwards Rector of Hurstmonceaux. - -[5] The 4th Earl of Crawford. - -[6] In her marriage contract (of 1792) with Lord Edward Fitz Gerald, -Pamela was described as the daughter of Guillaume de Brixey and Mary -Sims, aged nineteen, and born at Fogo in Newfoundland. In Madame de -Genlis's Memoirs, it is said that one Parker Forth, acting for the Duke -of Orleans, found, at Christ Church in Hampshire, one Nancy Sims, a -native of Fogo, and took her to Paris to live with Madame de Genlis, and -teach her royal pupils English. An Englishman named Sims was certainly -living at Fogo at the end of the last century, and his daughter Mary -sailed for Bristol with an infant of a year old, in a ship commanded by -a Frenchman named Brixey, and was never heard of again. - -[7] Edward Fox Fitz Gerald died Jan. 25, 1863: his widow lived -afterwards at Heavitree near Exeter, where she died Nov. 2, 1891. - -[8] I have dwelt upon the first connection of Madame Victoire Ackermann -with our family, not only because her name frequently occurs again in -these Memoirs, but because they are indebted to notes left by her for -much of their most striking material. I have never known any person more -intellectually interesting, for the class to which she belonged, than -Victoire. Without the slightest exaggeration, and with unswerving -rectitude of intention, her conversation was always charming and -original, and she possessed the rare art of narration in the utmost -perfection. - -[9] Francis Hare and his father had both been born abroad. - -[10] See the chapter called "Home Portraiture" in "Memorials of a Quiet -Life." - -[11] Edward Leycester had taken the name of Penrhyn with the fortune of -his father's cousin, Lady Penrhyn of Penrhyn Castle. His wife was Lady -Charlotte Stanley, daughter of the 13th Earl of Derby. - -[12] Second daughter of Sir John Stanley, afterwards 1st Lord Stanley of -Alderley, and niece of the Rev. Edward Stanley, Maria Leycester's -brother-in-law. - -[13] Edward Stanley, Rector of Alderley and afterwards Bishop of -Norwich, had married my mother's only sister, Catherine Leycester -("Kitty"), who was seven years older than herself. - -[14] "Maurice was by nature puzzle-headed, and, though in a beautiful -manner, wrong-headed; while his clear conscience and keen affections -made him egotistic, and, in his Bible reading, as insolent as any -infidel of them all."--_Ruskin_, "_Præterita_." - -[15] R. Holt Hutton. - -[16] The child was only three. - -[17] George Herbert. - -[18] This half-aunt of mine was living in 1894, having long been the -widow of the Rev. F. D. Maurice. I had not seen her for more than thirty -years before her death. I could not say I adored all the Maurices: it -would have been an exaggeration. So she did not wish to see me. - -[19] The Rev. R. Chenevix Trench, afterwards Archbishop of Dublin. The -fact was, his were very pleasant children, and therefore I liked them; -but I was expected to like all children, whatever their characters, and -scolded if I did not. - -[20] My uncle Julius Hare's Recollections. - -[21] From the notes of Francis Hare's life by Madame Victoire Ackermann. - -[22] See Crabbe Robinson's Diary. - -[23] He died Rector of North Creake, April 1894. - -[24] Merry Wives of Windsor. - -[25] Afterwards Mrs. Chatterton. - -[26] Ann, Viscountess Hill, died Oct. 31, 1891. - -[27] Recollections of Canon Venables, his sometime curate. - -[28] Long afterwards I learned that it is recorded in legal proceedings, -how Giles de Fienes (of Hurstmonceaux) brought a suit against Richard de -Pageham for the violent abduction of his wife Sybil, daughter of William -Filiol, on August 30, 1223. I suppose Richard employed the gipsies as -his intermediaries. - -[29] She had told Landor so. - -[30] The Rev. Adam Sedgwick, Prebendary of Norwich and Woodwardian -Professor of Geology, died Jan. 27, 1873. - -[31] Mrs. Vaughan. - -[32] De Quincey says that Wordsworth was the only poet he ever met who -could do this, and certainly it is my experience. - -[33] To be without (a husband) is bare but it's easy. - -[34] Harriet survived all her sisters for many years, as the wife of -Edward Plumptre, Dean of Wells. She died in 1890. A charming account of -her has appeared in Boyd's "Twenty-five Years at St. Andrews:" I thought -her most unlike it. - -[35] Actual cases. - -[36] Memoires de "Madame," Lettre du 18 Juillet 1700. - -[37] R. Browning. - -[38] He afterwards married my cousin Lady Elizabeth Yorke. - -[39] Robert Smith, who afterwards married my connection Isabel Adeane. - -[40] Afterwards Lord Radstock. - -[41] Son of the Bishop of London, Alfred Blomfield, afterwards himself -Bishop of Colchester. - -[42] Afterwards 4th Earl of Mount Edgecumbe. - -[43] Afterwards 14th Lord Saye and Sele. - -[44] This account is not the least exaggerated. I remember the storm as -one of the most awful things I ever saw. At this time and long -afterwards I was always very ill in a thunderstorm.--1894. - -[45] Dr. Whately. - -[46] This eccentric Lord Shrewsbury lived in great pomp at Alton Towers, -with an intense parade of magnificence. Once a large party staying there -included a French Countess of very noble lineage. One day after -breakfast he went up to her in his courteous way and said, "Madame, what -will you be pleased to do to-day? will you walk, or ride, or -drive?"--"Oh, it is a delightful day, I should like to drive."--"Then, -madame, would you prefer an open or a close carriage?"--"Oh, an open -carriage, if you please."--"And, madame, how many horses will you -have?"--"Oh, four-and-twenty horses of course," she said laughing, "you -know I never go out without four-and-twenty horses." The afternoon came, -and at the appointed hour Lord Shrewsbury came to the lady and said, -"The carriage is at the door, madame, the horses are there, but I must -apologise for having only one outrider." She rushed to the window, and, -to her horror, saw a carriage to which four-and-twenty grey horses were -harnessed, each pair being furnished with a postillion. Utterly -terrified, the lady declared that nothing should make her drive with -them, but her fellow-guests assured her she must. So at last she got in, -and the twenty-four horses took her for a short drive in the park. Then -Lord Shrewsbury had pity upon her, and twenty-two were unharnessed, and -she finished her drive with a pair.--_Mr. E. Hussey's Reminiscences._ - -[47] A very kind friend of mine, afterwards Precentor of Lincoln. - -[48] William Wentworth Buller of Strete Raleigh in Devonshire. - -[49] Hon. R. J. Harris Temple, eldest son of the second marriage of the -second Lord Harris with Miss Isabella Helena Temple of Waterstown. - -[50] "No man who has once heartily and wholly laughed can be altogether -irreclaimably bad."--_Carlyle_, "_Sartor Resartus_." - -[51] There is really no end to the absurd calumnies which I have heard -circulated during my life about dear old Mr. Landor, the kindest, most -refined, most courteous, and most genial, though most irascible of men. -But nothing that ever was said about him was so utterly absurd as Mr. -Adolphus Trollope's statement that he neglected the use of the letter -_h_ in conversation. I lived with him in close intimacy for years, and I -never once traced the slightest indication of his ever dropping the -aspirate; indeed, no one was more particular in inculcating its proper -use. - -[52] The vaults of St. Martin's Church have been emptied since. - -[53] Hugh Stuart Brown. - -[54] Eldest daughter of Vice-Admiral Sir Courtenay Boyle, brother of the -8th Earl of Cork. The brothers had married sisters, daughters of W. -Poyntz of Midgeham--our distant cousins. - -[55] _Née_ Caroline Amelia Poyntz. - -[56] Miss Mary Boyle died in 1890. - -[57] Mrs. FitzGerald's. - -[58] My Uncle Wentworth married the Countess Marie Benningsen, whose -father was one of those who murdered the Emperor Paul of Russia. They -had four children. - -[59] Thomas à Kempis. - -[60] "Walks in London." - -[61] Parnell, "Rise of Woman." - -[62] August 4, 1851. - -[63] A well-known starting-point in the valley below where the Holborn -Viaduct now is. - -[64] Seventh daughter of the 1st Lord Ravensworth, whose wife was my -grandmother's only sister. - -[65] Grandson of my adopted grandfather's elder brother. - -[66] Madame de Staël. - -[67] Ernest Augustus, Duke of Cumberland, 5th son of George III. - -[68] The 8th Earl of Denbigh, as Lord Feilding, married, 1st, Louisa, -daughter of David Pennant, Esq., and Lady Emma Pennant. - -[69] The whole of this account was corrected by Lord Feilding, then Earl -of Denbigh. - -[70] "He spoke of the twin brothers George and James Macdonald as two -simple, single-minded, and veracious men, and more than this, as -eminently godly men. He described how the healing of their sister -occurred. She had lain for long bedridden and entirely helpless. One day -they had been praying earnestly beside her, and one of the brothers, -rising from prayers, walked to the bed, held out his hand, and, naming -his sister, bade her arise. She straightway did so, and continued ever -after entirely healed, and with full use of her limbs."--J. C. SHAIRP, -"Thomas Erskine." - -[71] Cecil, widow of the 7th Marquis. - -[72] Under Dean Powys. - -[73] How seeing many people and characters makes one sympathise with the -observation of the Duchesse d'Orleans: "En fait de dévotion, je vois que -chacun suit son humeur; ceux qui aiment à bavarder veulent beaucoup -prier; ceux qui ont l'âme libérale veulent toujours faire des aumônes; -ceux qui sont gais pensent très bien servir Dieu, en se rejouissant de -tout, et en ne se fachant de rien. En somme, la dévotion est, pour ceux -qui s'y adonnent, la pierre de touche qui fait connaître leur humeur." - -[74] Grote's History was coming out at this time, and I had got into -terrible disgrace with the Stanleys from knowing nothing about it. - -[75] The Spitz dog. - -[76] There are 6000 Béguines in Belgium, nuns bound by no vow, and free -to return to the world if they wish. While they wear the habit of their -Order, they live in a colony, but in separate houses, and devote their -whole lives to temporal works of mercy. - -[77] Carl Friedrich Meyer, for some time German secretary and librarian -to Prince Albert. - -[78] Louisa, eldest daughter of Sir William Clinton of Cokenach. - -[79] Louisa Dorothea, widow of Lieutenant-General Sir William Clinton, -was daughter of the 1st Baron Sheffield, and younger sister of Maria -Josepha, 1st Lady Stanley of Alderley. We had always visited her on the -way to Norwich. - -[80] Afterwards (1878) Master of Balliol. He died October 1893. - -[81] Dr. Plumptre. - -[82] Authoress of "Sickness, its Trials and Blessings," &c. - -[83] Afterwards Canon of Windsor. - -[84] Mother of Mrs. Marcus Hare. - -[85] William Henry Milligan, afterwards of the Ecclesiastical Commission -Office. - -[86] Minor Canon of Westminster (1894). - -[87] Eldest son of Sir J. Barrow. - -[88] Fourth son of Sir Robert Sheffield of Normanby in Lincolnshire. - -[89] Kingsley's "Saint's Tragedy," which Uncle Julius had read aloud to -us, and afterwards Montalembert's Life, had made me very familiar with -her story. - -[90] An old monastic farm on the Levels, between Hailsham and -Eastbourne. The internal interest of the Wartburg has long since been -"restored" away, and its rooms blaze with gilding and colour. - -[91] See p. 289. - -[92] I was altogether a disappointment to Professor Jowett. I did not -get on in the line in which he wished me to get on, and in what I was -able to do in after life he had no interest whatever. He dropped me -after I left Oxford. I seldom saw him again, and he never knew, perhaps, -how grateful I felt for his long-ago kindness. Professor Benjamin Jowett -died at Headley Hall, in Hampshire, October 1, 1893. - -[93] Of Eccles Greig, near Forfar. - -[94] It would be impossible to discover a more perfect old "gentleman" -than Dr. Plumptre, though he was often laughed at. When he was inquiring -into any fault, he would begin with, "Now pray take care what you say, -because whatever you say I shall believe." He had an old-fashioned -veneration for rank, and let Lord Egmont off lectures two days in the -week that he might hunt--"it was so suitable." - -[95] Dr. Hawkins. - -[96] Dean Gaisford. - -[97] Walter Berkeley, 4th son of the 1st Viscount Portman. - -[98] This was so at that time: now it would be thought nothing of. - -[99] Wife of John Henry Parker, the publisher, a peculiar but excellent -person. - -[100] The portrait of Mrs. Hare Naylor by Flaxman, now at Holmhurst. - -[101] Afterwards Mrs. Owen Grant. - -[102] Coleridge. - -[103] The High Church author, son of my father's first cousin, Charles -Shipley. - -[104] I have always thought that Sir John Paul must have been rather -mad. After he had done his best to ruin all his family, and had totally -ruined hundreds of other people, he said very complacently, "This is the -Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes." - -[105] My mother in her youth had often visited the ladies at Plas -Newydd--Lady Eleanor Butler (ob. 1829, æt. 90) and Miss Sarah Ponsonby -(ob. 1831, æt. 76). They always wore men's hats and waistcoats, short -petticoats and thick boots. - -[106] William Owen Stanley, twin brother of Edward-John, 2nd Lord -Stanley of Alderley. - -[107] "Quite untrue, probably."--Note by the Dean of Llandaff, formerly -head-master of Harrow, who read this in MS. - -[108] Hon. Carolina Courtenay Boyle - -[109] The declaration had already been made in private to Lady Stratford -de Redcliffe at Constantinople. - -[110] Rectors of St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, and St. Barnabas', Pimlico. - -[111] Daughters of the Dean of Bristol. - -[112] Daughter of my great-great-uncle T. Lyon of Hetton. - -[113] How little those who idolise him in theory attend to the precept -of their beloved Luther: "If anywhere Sunday is made holy for the mere -day's sake,--if any one anywhere sets up its observance as a Jewish -foundation, then I order you to work on it, to dance on it, to do -anything that shall remove this encroachment on Christian -liberty."--_Table-Talk._ - -[114] Count Aurelio Saffi died 1890, and is buried at Forli. - -[115] Princess Charlotte of Belgium. - -[116] Since well known from the tragic death of the Crown Prince -Rudolph. - -[117] Now a crowded resort of royalty. - -[118] In 1895 I retain the lakes of Gosau in recollection as amongst the -most beautiful places I have ever visited. - -[119] From "Northern Italy." - -[120] From "Central Italy." - -[121] From "Central Italy." - -[122] From "Central Italy." - -[123] From "Days near Rome." - -[124] Teresa, Princess Borghese, survived by two years the ruin of her -house, and died July 1894. - -[125] Whose beautiful tomb, by Miss Hosmer, is in the Church of S. -Andrea delle Fratte at Rome. - -[126] Whose fine portrait of himself is in the Uffizi at Florence. - -[127] From "Days near Rome." - -[128] From "Southern Italy." - -[129] The familiar term expressing "a rascal of a boy." - -[130] From "Southern Italy." - -[131] From "Southern Italy." - -[132] From "Central Italy." - -[133] From "Central Italy." - -[134] From "Northern Italy." - -[135] Ruskin, in his "Præterita," describes his father's astonishment -when he brought the maid of honour's petticoat, parrot, and blackamoor -home, as the best fruit of his summer at the court of Sardinia. - -[136] From "Northern Italy." - -[137] Walter Savage Landor was tried for libel at the suit of a lady, to -whom he had once shown great kindness, but of whom he had afterwards -written abusively. He fled from England to evade the severe fine imposed -upon him, which, however, was afterwards paid. - -[138] Wordsworth, Lines written in Thomson's "Castle of Indolence." - -[139] She had passed some time at Neuchâtel with her father in 1818, and -had seen much of the society there. - -[140] The Marquise de Gabriac was daughter of the Maréchale Sebastiani, -and only sister of Madame Davidoff. - -[141] He died at Lille, July 1891, aged 85. - -[142] From "Paris." - -[143] This story of the dream was only told me by the Duchess Wilhelmine -of Cleveland in 1887. - -[144] From "Paris." - -[145] From "Days near Paris." - -[146] A year afterwards I had occasion to visit Panizzi upon other -business, and I shall never forget the sharpness with which the astute -old man, recollecting the Archdeacon's letter, and entirely refusing to -recognise any other claim upon his time, turned upon me with, "Well now, -what do you know?--how many languages? what?--answer at once;" and I -could with difficulty make him understand that I did not want the -clerkship. Sir A. Panizzi died April 8, 1879. It was this Antonio -Panizzi who had the honour of being hanged in effigy by the Government -of Modena, after having escaped from an imprisonment (which would -doubtless have ended in his corporeal execution), for his efforts for -the regeneration of Sicily. He was declared liable for all the expenses -of the process, and the Cabinet of Modena, in all simplicity, wrote to -him in his security at Liverpool calling upon him to pay them! - -[147] Ten guineas for a sheet, containing twenty-four pages of the close -double-columned type of Murray's Handbooks. - -[148] John, 2nd Earl Brownlow. - -[149] Of Hunstanton, eldest son of Mrs. Wynne Finch. - -[150] Second son of the 5th Earl Stanhope. - -[151] Now Sackville of Drayton Manor. - -[152] Fourth son of Sir Adam Hay of King's Meadows. - -[153] Fourth son of Sir Hedworth Williamson of Whitburn, and of the Hon. -Anne, 2nd daughter of the 1st Lord Ravensworth. - -[154] Eldest son of Sir Charles Wood, M.P., afterwards Viscount Halifax, -and of Lady Mary, 5th daughter of the 2nd Earl Grey. - -[155] Hon. Mrs. Cradock, wife of the Principal of Brazenose--formerly a -Maid of Honour. - -[156] Maria Josepha, daughter of the 1st Earl of Sheffield, and widow of -the first Lord Stanley of Alderley. - -[157] Grandfather of the first Lord Knutsford. - -[158] Mrs. Pelham Warren died in Nov. 1865. - -[159] Mrs. Thornton, a most kind and admirable person, died Jan. 1889. - -[160] Mrs. Dormer went to live at Flamborough in Yorkshire after the -death of her husband, and died there, Oct. 1892. - -[161] Afterwards 14th Baron Saye and Sele. - -[162] His handwriting was so illegible, that printers charged -half-a-crown a sheet extra for setting up each sheet of his "copy." - -[163] The universally beloved Henry Octavius Coxe, Bodley's librarian -and Rector of Wytham, born 1811, died July 8, 1881. - -[164] The Countess Valsamachi, formerly Mrs. Reginald Heber, was one of -the three daughters of Dean Shipley, and first cousin to my father. - -[165] Mr. Thomas Erskine died March 28, 1870, having survived both his -sisters. - -[166] Miss Clementina Stirling Graham died at Duntrune, August 23, 1877, -aged ninety-five. - -[167] Earl of Dalhousie. - -[168] My college friend Frederick Forsyth Grant. - -[169] This is described in Lord Auckland's Correspondence. - -[170] In May 1860. - -[171] Fénélon. - -[172] The voice which passed the lips of Madame de Trafford was often -like the voices of the Irvingites. - -[173] Sometimes Madame de Trafford spoke of her spirits as "Les -Maricots." - -[174] - - "L'asciar l'amico! - Lo seguitai felice - Quand'era il cielo sereno: - Alle tempeste in seno - Voglio seguirlo ancor: - Ah cosi vil non sono." - --METASTASIO. - - -[175] Principal of New Inn Hall at Oxford. - -[176] Our cousins through the Shipleys and Mordaunts. - -[177] Grandson of Helena Selman, my great-grandmother's only sister. - -[178] I wrote to Sir George Grey several times after this meeting, but -never saw him again till 1869 in Miss Wright's rooms in Belgrave -Mansions. - -[179] Sydney Smith's daughter. - -[180] Prescott, Washington Irving, Sir J. Stephen, Leigh Hunt, De -Quincey, Macaulay, Hallam. - -[181] Ritter, Humboldt, Arndt. - -[182] De Tocqueville. - -[183] Afterwards Dean of Lincoln. - -[184] The Rev. W. J. Butler, then Dean of Lincoln, and his wife, died -within a few weeks of each other in Jan. 1894. - -[185] Wife of the Rev. William Gaskell, Unitarian minister of the Chapel -in Cross Street, Manchester. He died June 1884, aged eighty. She died -very suddenly in Nov. 1865. - -[186] It is right to say that a very different account of Count de Salis -is given by many of his descendants from that which I wrote down from -the narrative of Dr. Hawtrey. - -[187] Mrs. Fane de Salis told me (in 1891) that her mother-in-law had -described to her being with Miss Foster on the Pincio when the handsome -guardsman, Count Mastai, came courting. - -[188] Hazeley Court. - -[189] Maison Helvetia. - -[190] From "South-Eastern France." - -[191] From "South-Eastern France." - -[192] From "Northern Italy." - -[193] From "South-Eastern France." - -[194] Rev. J. L. Petit. - -[195] From "Northern Italy." - -[196] Susan, 5th daughter of Thomas Lyon of Hetton, married the Rev. J. -Fellowes of Shottesham. - -[197] The heroine of the wreck of the _Forfarshire_, Sept. 5, 1838. - -[198] Only son of John, 10th Earl of Strathmore, and Mary Milner. - -[199] Mary Eleanor Bowes, 9th Countess of Strathmore. - -[200] Paulina, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Jermyn. - -[201] Mrs. Clutterbuck was Marianne, youngest daughter of the Hon. -Thomas Lyon of Hetton, my great-grandmother's youngest brother. - -[202] Afterwards Lord Wilfred Seymour. - -[203] Arthur Stanley's account. - -[204] Montesquieu. - -[205] Notably the ballad of "Featherstonhaugh," which Sir Walter -inserted as ancient in his "Border Minstrelsy," introducing one stanza -in the poem of "Marmion" itself. - -[206] My great-great-uncle, Thomas Lyon of Hetton, younger brother of -the 9th Earl of Strathmore, married Miss Wren (grand-daughter of Sir -Christopher), heiress of Binchester. - -[207] Mr. John Clayton survived till July 1890, leaving personalty -valued at £728,000, and real property supposed to be worth £20,000 a -year. The last member of his generation, the universally beloved Mrs. -Anne Clayton, died October 30, 1890. - -[208] Rev. J. Collingwood Bruce, author of "The Roman Wall," &c. He -lived till 1893, and is commemorated by a tomb in St. Nicholas, -Newcastle. - -[209] Mr. Andersen had two daughters, my great-great-grandmother Mrs. -Simpson, and the Marchesa Grimaldi, great-grandmother of Stacey -Grimaldi, who was at this time trying to establish his claims to the -Principality of Monaco. - -[210] Bradley was inherited and sold by Lord Ravensworth, and its -pictures removed to Eslington. - -[211] The living of Blanchland was afterwards given by the Governors of -Bamborough to Mr. Gurley on his marriage with my cousin, Mary -Clutterbuck. - -[212] The widow of Reginald Heber. - -[213] The curious old muniment room at Ripley is now modernised, indeed -destroyed. - -[214] Dr. John Thomas, Bishop of Peterborough, and afterwards of -Salisbury--some time tutor to George III. - -[215] General Scott had married the Hon. Alethea Stanley, sister of Mrs. -Marcus Hare - -[216] It was rebuilt on a large scale in 1893. - -[217] Well known from the ballad of "The Death of Parcy Reed." - -[218] See the ballad of "Chevy Chase." - -[219] Sir Charles Trevelyan, Sir Walter's cousin and heir, who read -this, asked me to add a note, and to say that though it is quite true -that Sir Walter was a miser, he was only a miser for philanthropic -purposes. He gave £60,000 at once for a railway which he thought would -benefit the district in which he lived, and his charities, though -eccentric, were quite boundless. - -[220] Paulina, Lady Trevelyan, daughter of the Rev. Dr. Jermyn, died in -1866. Sir Walter married afterwards a Miss Loft, and survived till 1879, -but I never saw him again. - -[221] 1888.--Alas that I should have to add a note to say that the -mummy-case has been since discovered not to have belonged to a queen at -all, but to the court-jester! - -[222] Charlotte, eldest daughter of Lord Stuart de Rothesay, married -(1835) Charles John, afterwards Viscount and Earl Canning and -Governor-General of India, and died at Calcutta, Nov. 18, 1861. - -[223] From "The Story of Two Noble Lives." - -[224] His great-grandmother, Lady Susan Lyon and my great-grandmother, -Lady Anne, were sisters. - -[225] From "South-Eastern France." - -[226] The celebrated Porson was given to such utter fits of absence that -he forgot he was married and dined out on the very day of the ceremony. - -[227] From "South-Eastern France." - -[228] From "North-Eastern France." - -[229] Now (1895) pulled down. - -[230] From "North-Eastern France." - -[231] From "Days near Rome." - -[232] Rev. E. Kershaw, afterwards chaplain to Earl De la Warr. - -[233] Caroline, daughter of Richard, Lord Braybrooke, widow of the first -Lord Wenlock. - -[234] From "Days near Rome." - -[235] From "Days near Rome." - -[236] All Mrs. Julius Hare's family of her generation have passed away: -_all_ to whom the story of my child life as connected with her could -give any pain. - -[237] From "Southern Italy." - -[238] Placed on the doors of Catholic churches and chapels. - -[239] He died on the 17th of the following September. - - "Oh, let him pass! he hates him much - That would upon the rack of this rough world - Stretch him out longer."--_King Lear._ - - -[240] From "Northern Italy." - -[241] Adèle, Madame Davidoff. See pp. 65, 115. - -[242] From "South-Eastern France." - -[243] The Venerable Gaspare del Bufalo, to whose influence the -foundation of the Order of the Precious Blood was due. - -[244] Don Giovanni Merlini of the Crociferi. - -[245] Mary Pierina Roleston, Superior of the Order of the Precious Blood -in England. - -[246] Alas! after the Sardinian occupation of Rome, the Soras, then -Prince and Princess Piombino, were induced to sell all the grounds of -Villa Ludovisi, the noblest ornament of Rome; its magnificent groves of -ilex and cypress were cut down, and hideous stucco houses built over its -site. - -[247] Lady Wenlock died May 1868. - -[248] "The Remains of Mrs. Richard Trench," by her son Richard Chevenix -Trench, Dean of Westminster, afterwards Archbishop of Dublin. - -[249] The Rt. Hon. George Grenville, father of Catherine, Lady -Braybrooke. - -[250] I give, of course, the words of Pierina. - -[251] Paray le Monial, now so constant a resort of pilgrimages, was, up -to this time, almost unknown. - -[252] From "South-Western France." - -[253] These were the very early days of Arcachon. - -[254] Born Julia Hare of Hurstmonceaux, a first cousin of my father. - -[255] Edwin Dashwood was the son, and the first Mrs. Story had been the -daughter, of Emily Hare of Hurstmonceaux, sister of Mrs. Taylor. - -[256] From "South-Western France." - -[257] Her brother and sister, who had died long before. - -[258] From "South-Western France." - -[259] This I afterwards carried out in six unpublished volumes of the -Memoirs of the Hare Family. - -[260] Spenser, "Faerie Queene." - -[261] From "South-Western France." - -[262] Wife of Sir George Robinson of Crauford. - -[263] From "South-Western France." - -[264] From "South-Western France." - -[265] From "South-Western France." - -[265a] From "South-Western France." - -[266] Now terribly modernised and spoilt. - -[267] "What is a miracle? Can there be a thing more miraculous than any -other thing?... I have _seen_ no man rise from the dead: I have seen -some thousands rise from _nothing_."--_Carlyle_. - -[268] I do not think that this characteristic anecdote is preserved -elsewhere. - -[269] Emma, widow of King Kaméhaméha IV., who died Nov. 30, 1863. She -was born Jan. 2, 1836, being daughter of George Naca, a native chief, -and of Fanny Yong. Charles Rooke, a rich doctor, adopted her, and left -her all his fortune. Having seen three kings succeed her husband, and -been equally honoured and respected by all, Queen Emma died in March -1885. - -[270] From "Walks in London." - -[271] From "The Story of Two Noble Lives." - -[272] From "The Story of Two Noble Lives." - -[273] Colonel Alexander Higginson of the Grenadier Guards, celebrated -for his silence, was keeping the door. He said not a word in answer to -all her entreaties, but dropped his sword as a barrier in front of the -Queen.--_Note from Mrs. Owen Grant, niece of Colonel A. Higginson._ - -[274] Caroline, daughter of Francis I., king of Naples, widow of the Duc -de Berri, younger son of Charles X. - -[275] The Duc de Bordeaux (Comte de Chambord). - -[276] The Archduchess Marie Therese, daughter of Francis IV., Duke of -Modena. - -[277] Louis Henri Joseph, Duc de Bourbon, father of the Duc d'Enghien, -the last member of the House of Condé, who fought a duel with Charles X. -in 1776. He married Marie Thérèse d'Orleans in 1770. - -[278] Marie Amelie, Duchesse d'Orleans, afterwards Queen of the French, -was daughter of Ferdinard I., king of the Two Sicilies, and sister of -Francis I., father of the Duchesse de Berri. - -[279] The Duc de Bourbon left Madame de Feuchères two million francs, -the château and park of St. Leu, the château and estate of Boissy, and -all their dependencies: also a pavilion at the Palais Bourbon, valued at -fifteen million francs. - -[280] Elizabeth, wife of Philip Yorke, 3rd Earl of Hardwicke, and -daughter of James, 5th Earl of Balcarres. - -[281] Colin, 3rd Earl of Balcarres. - -[282] Anne, only daughter of Sir Robert Dalrymple of Castleton. - -[283] The tune which then existed. The Hon. Mrs. Byron, a friend of Lady -Anne Barnard, afterwards gave the words to Lieutenant William Leeves, -1st Foot Guards, who composed the air to which they are now sung, in -imitation of old Scotch music. Lieutenant Leeves afterwards took orders -and became Rector of Wrington in Somersetshire, where he was the -intimate friend of Mrs. Hannah More, who lived in his parish. He died in -1828. - -[284] From "The Story of Two Noble Lives." - -[285] Augusta, daughter of George, 4th Earl of Glasgow. - -[286] Lucia, eldest daughter of Lord Dover. - -[287] Second daughter of the 1st Earl of Ellesmere. - -[288] Maria, daughter of Sir Joseph Copley of Sprotborough. - -[289] Hamilton, daughter of Walter Campbell of Shawfield, younger sister -of Lady Ruthven. - -[290] My third cousin, George, 2nd Earl of Durham. - -[291] Beatrix, second daughter of the Marquis of Abercorn. She died Jan. -1871. - -[292] Mary, widow of the 5th Lord Ruthven, and daughter of Walter -Campbell of Shawfield. - -[293] Catherine, daughter of Archdeacon Spooner. Her memoirs were -published by her husband, the Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1879. - -[294] Daughter of the 4th Duke of Portland, afterwards Viscountess -Ossington - -[295] Lady Anne Anson, second daughter of the 1st Earl of Lichfield. - -[296] Afterwards 7th Earl of Aberdeen. - -[297] Fourth daughter of the 7th Earl of Wemyss. - -[298] The "custom more honoured in the breach than the -observance."--_Hamlet._ - -[299] William Henry, 1st Duke of Cleveland, who died in 1842. - -[300] Adam, fourth son of Sir Adam Hay of Haystoun, who had been one of -my greatest friends at Christ Church. He died May 1871. - -[301] Lady Constance Talbot, daughter of the 19th Earl of Shrewsbury. - -[302] Daughter of the 7th Earl of Leven. - -[303] A Roman friend, brother of Sir Michael Shaw Stewart. - -[304] From "Central Italy." - -[305] Madame Victoire Ackermann. See vol. i. - -[306] From "Central Italy." - -[307] From "Central Italy." - -[308] His mother was Susan, daughter of William Leycester, my mother's -first cousin. She was murdered during the Indian Mutiny, with her -husband and child. - -[309] The famous S. Francesca Romana had been a member of the Ponziani -family. - -[310] The Rev. Henry Arbuthnot Feilden married Ellinor, one of the -daughters of Edmund Hornby, Esq., of Dalton Hall in Lancashire--a very -old friend and connection of our family. Her sister Charlotte afterwards -married my first cousin--Oswald Penrhyn. - -[311] Mr. Leycester Lyne, celebrated as a preacher and for his follies -in playing at monasticism. His mother was a Leycester of White Place, -descended from a younger branch of the Leycesters of Toft. - -[312] Afterwards Lady Rathdonell. - -[313] Thérèse de la Rochefoucauld, wife of Prince Marc-Antonio Borghese. - -[314] Francesco II. - -[315] Marie Thérèse Isabelle, daughter of Archduke Charles of Austria. - -[316] Marie, daughter of Duke Maximilian of Bavaria. - -[317] Princess Mathilde of Bavaria. - -[318] Foundress of the Order of the Precious Blood. - -[319] Prince Camillo, who married a princess of Savoy-Carignan. - -[320] The mystery of Madame Victorine was never cleared up. In the -summer of 1867 she suddenly expressed a wish to leave, though full of -gratitude and affection for my sister, and she implied that she need no -longer continue in service. Probably she has returned into the sphere of -life from which she evidently came. She called herself Victorine Errard. - -[321] A celebrated convent in Rome, where the French nuns have a school, -which is very popular. - -[322] Because it was on the day before the Crucifixion that Our Lord -said "This is my body," &c. - -[323] King Francesco II., died December 1894. - -[324] From "Days near Rome." - -[325] From "Days near Rome." - -[326] Frederick, Viscount Kilcoursie, son of the 8th Earl of Cavan. - -[327] From "Days near Rome." - -[328] From "Florence." - -[329] Queen Emma died in 1885. - -[330] Jean Baptiste Marie Vianney. - -[331] All this picturesque side of Cannes has since been spoilt and -vulgarised. - -[332] From "South-Eastern France." - -[333] From "South-Eastern France." - -[334] Afterwards Sir Antonio Panizzi. - -[335] Emily, only daughter of Sir Charles Taylor of Hollycombe, -afterwards Lady Brougham and Vaux. - -[336] The name of his daughter, who died in 1839. - -[337] From "South-Eastern France." - -[338] From "South-Eastern France." - -[339] From "South-Eastern France." - -[340] From "South-Eastern France." - -[341] From "Biographical Essays." - -[342] See vol. i. p. 359. - -[343] See Shakespeare, "Measure for Measure." - -[344] Mrs. Whewell. - -[345] See vol. ii. p. 6. - -[346] Mrs. C. Vaughan. Dr. Vaughan was now Vicar of Doncaster. - -[347] Frances Vere, 2nd wife of Sir Edward Blackett of Matfen, and -daughter of Sir William Lorraine. - -[348] Rev. Henry and Mrs. Liddell of Easington. - -[349] _Née_ Aventina Macmurdo. See vol. ii. p. 18. - -[350] Daughter-in-law of Mr. and Mrs. Dalzel. Their son, a very -distinguished young man, died before them. - -[351] Mrs. Dalzel died in October 1871. - -[352] Charlotte, eldest daughter of Robert Adamson, Esq., and widow of -Sir Godfrey Vassall Webster, Bart. - -[353] As taken down from the narration of old Mr. Frewen of Brickwall, -an intimate friend of the Webster family, who generously bought in all -their family portraits at the time of their ruin, and kept them till -they had the power of redeeming them. - -[354] From "South-Eastern France." - -[355] From "South-Eastern France." - -[356] From "Northern Italy." - -[357] From "Central Italy." - -[358] Mme. Victoire Ackermann. See vol. i. - -[359] Such was a constant cause of detention in early days of Italian -railways, though it seems impossible now. - -[360] For the Queen Dowager, who died of the cholera at Albano in the -summer of 1867. - -[361] Contessa Carolina di S. Giorgio. - -[362] See vol. ii. p. 86. - -[363] Of the Japanese martyrs. - -[364] It is therefore not fair to say that the desecration of the Roman -churches has _only_ occurred since the Sardinian occupation. - -[365] The Hon. Carolina Courtenay Boyle, maid of honour. - -[366] My cousins, Lord and Lady Bloomfield, and the Dowager Lady -Barrington, with her daughter Augusta, were spending the winter in Rome. - -[367] This beautiful villa and its lovely grounds have been entirely -destroyed under the Sardinian Government. - -[368] "Look at a pious person, man or woman, one in whom the spirit -sways the senses: look at them when they are praying or have risen from -their knees, and see with how bright a ray of divine beauty their faces -are illuminated: you will see the beauty of God shine on their faces: -you will see the beauty of an angel."--SAVONAROLA, _Sermons_. - -[369] There is a passage in Rudyard Kipling which exactly describes my -mother's state at this time. "The mind was quickened, and the revolving -thoughts ground against each other, as millstones grind when there is no -corn between." - -[370] From "Northern Italy." - -[371] Prince Lucien, son of the Roman Prince Charles Lucien (nephew of -Napoleon I.) and of Zenaide, only child of Joseph, King of Naples and -Spain. - -[372] Emma Simpkinson reached England before us, but was then rapidly -waning heavenwards. She spent the last few weeks of her life at St. -Leonards, where we had the great comfort of being able to cheer and -watch over her, and she is buried in the cemetery at Ore. - -[373] Afterwards Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. - -[374] From "Northern Italy." - -[375] From "Northern Italy." - -[376] Afterwards Sir Arthur Blackwood, Secretary to the Post-Office. He -died 1893. - -[377] "The Saint of St. Peter's." See vol. ii. p. 429. - -[378] The maid of our old friend Mrs. Chambers of Hodsock Priory. - -[379] She showed her clearness of mind by mentioning this picture, which -she had not seen for years; but much trouble afterwards resulted from -this clause in her will. - -[380] Letter of Mrs. Fitz-Gerald, which would have been used at -Guildford had the trial proceeded. - -[381] Statement of Pierina to Miss Stanley. - -[382] Statement made by Pierina to Monsignor Paterson, and repeated by -him before the trial to Miss Stanley and my solicitor. - -[383] Mrs. Alfred Montgomery died at Naples in January 1893. - -[384] It was touching to us, and like Esmeralda's forethought, to find a -clause in the will stating that in case of her former maid, Clémence, -dying first, the annuity should be continued to her crippled helpless -mother-in-law (whom Esmeralda had never seen), in order that Clémence -might die without any burden on her mind. - -[385] Every precaution had been taken by Esmeralda to prevent her -fortune from falling to her brother Francis. In case of my dying -unmarried, everything was to go to her cousin Charles Williamson; and in -case of his death without children, to his brother Victor Williamson. - -[386] At this point the agitation of Mary Stanley, who had been my -informant, was so great, that she startled the court by something like a -shout of denial. - -[387] As Flora Ackermann, Madame Limosin had been brought up in my -father's family, and, with her sister Victoria, had been treated like -his own children. - -[388] Now (1895) every one who took part in the trial at Guildford is -dead, except the priests, and, I believe, the Abbess Pierina. The person -whom Francis Hare had married during the last months of his life -vanished, immediately after his death, into the chaos from whence she -had come. - -[389] From "South-Eastern France." - -[390] From "South-Western France." - -[391] From "The Story of Two Noble Lives." - -[392] Lady Anne Barnard died in 1825. - -[393] Her son-in-law, Mr. Hodgson Hinde. - -[394] Mariage. - -[395] I never saw Mrs. Arnold again: she died in the autumn of 1873. - -[396] In the following year a siege by the Germans made Toul a familiar -name throughout Europe. - -[397] From "North-Eastern France." - -[398] From "North-Eastern France." - -[399] I little foresaw then the immense service these notes would be to -me in writing the Life of Baroness Bunsen herself eight years after. - -[400] From "Northern Italy." - -[401] The approach to Mantua has since been altered, and is now -commonplace. - -[402] From "Northern Italy." - -[403] From "Northern Italy." - -[404] From "Northern Italy." - -[405] From "Central Italy." - -[406] From "Central Italy." - -[407] The Spina has since been rebuilt and spoilt by the Sardinian -Government. - -[408] The great dikes of the Arno had burst a long way off, so that the -flood came upon us from behind. Only the eastern bank of the Arno was -flooded. - -[409] Monckton Milnes. - -[410] Eldest son of Colonel Augustus Liddell and grandson of my -great-aunt Lady Ravensworth. - -[411] From "Days near Rome." - -[412] William Story, the sculptor and poet. - -[413] Miss Mary Boyle, celebrated for her dramatic powers. - -[414] The sculptress. - -[415] Afterwards Ambassador at Berlin. - -[416] From "Days near Rome." - -[417] From "Days near Rome." - -[418] From "Florence." - -[419] From "Northern Italy." - -[420] Now at Holmhurst. - -[421] From "South-Eastern France." - -[422] From "South-Eastern France." - -[423] The well-known and admirable American actress. - -[424] In April 1880. - -[425] Diderot, "Sarrasins." - -[426] Eldest sister of my old Harrow master, and of Emma Simpkinson, -often mentioned in these Memoirs. In my childhood she lived at -Hurstmonceaux. - -[427] "When the thoughts of youth return, fresh as the scent of -new-gathered blossoms, to the tired old age which has so long forgotten -them, the coming of Death is seldom very distant."--OUIDA, "_In -Maremma_." - -[428] A much-loved cousin and friend; her mother was a Grey, and my -Mother's first-cousin. - -[429] This is said often to happen in case of a death. At Holmhurst it -was most remarkable. They never appeared after that night till the night -of October 18, 1882, when my dear old nurse was dying. I have been -laughed at for narrating this, but the noise of crickets at a death is -spoken of in Ecclesiastes xii. 5--"And the grasshopper shall be a -burden, _because man goeth to his long home_." - -[430] Jeremy Taylor. - -[431] Harriet Bentley, Lea's niece--her much-attached housemaid. - -[432] Of "Walks in Rome." - -[433] Putting up a heating apparatus in the passages. - -[434] The tenants of Hurstmonceaux Place, the old home of the family. - -[435] A poor woman at "Lime Cross," constantly visited by my Mother. - -[436] My father's half-sister, who had seldom treated me even with -humanity. - -[437] All old servants. - -[438] A neighbour and the wife of an old college friend. - -[439] Rector of Ashburnham. - - -Etext transcriber's note: - -The following changes were made: - -Gasparoni=>Gesparoni - -Beauharnois=>Beauharnais - -Lyell=>Lyall - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Story of My Life, volumes 1-3, by -Augustus J. C. 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