vm ffifife-4n>. SHE!?;?, v v I H I 5 Hi LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY JOHN Sr ANNA GILLESPIE Jfl m 1 I Mm ■ '.■-•• ;-- r ' Hi ■H THE STOEY OF MY LIFE v ' 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. NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 1896 ' Copyright, 1S96, By Dodd. Mead and Company, tHnttorrsitti ^rcss: John Wilson and Son. Cambridge, U.S.A. CONTENTS. Page Work in Northern Countries 1 Home Life with the Mother 89 English Pleasures and Roman Trials 211 Last Years of Esmeralda 402 The Roman Catholic Conspiracy I'M Last Years with the Mother 466 Index to Vols. I. and II 555 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS VOL II Page At Durham 4 On Allen Water, Ridley Hall 12 Ford Castle, the Terrace 19 View from Holmhurst. (Full-page woodcut) . . To face 21 Entrance to Holmhurst : " Huz and Buz " 23 Alderley Church and Rectory 28 Wark worth, from the Coquet 77 Winton Castle 79 The Cheviots, from Ford 84 Carrozza 92 Roman Theatre, Aries ... 98 Hotel du Mauroy, Troyes 99 The King of Bohemia's Cross, Crecy 100 S. Flaviano, Montefiascone 104 Ostia , 108 Theatre of Tusculum 100 Amalfi 113 Courmayeur 124 Anne F. M. L. Hare. From G. Canevari. (Photogra- vure) To face 128 Ars 133 Tours 100 vin LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Page \' \ 1 1 ;_T« H 1 1 «"• 1 1 H 17<> l'au 171 Betharram 182 Biarritz L88 The Pas de Roland L90 S. Emilion Cathedral Door L92 Amboise 194 Anne F. M. L. Hare. From Swinton. (Photogravure.) To face 210 The Coronation (hair, Westminster 213 Bamborough Castle 218 The Sundial Garden, Ford 220 The Fountain, Ford 221 Ford Castle, the Terrace 233 Elizabeth, Lady Stuart de Rothesay. From a miniature, by Mrs. A. Dixson. ( Photogravure) . . . To face 236 The Pass of Bracco 253 At P«.rt.» Venere 264 La Spina, Pisa 201 Contadina, Valley of the Sacco 202 The Bridge of Augustus, Narni 293 The Mediaeval Bridge, JSTarni 204 View from the Boboli Gardens. Florence 296 Bolmhurst, from the Garden 200 Lady Angusta Stanley. (Photogravure) T<> face 301 Altm, Barnes Church 302 Bodryddan 312 S. Remy 322 From Maison S. Francois, Cannes ... .... 323 Bocca Wood, Cannes 325 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS i X Page Maison S. Francois, Cannes 326 Maria Hare. (Line engraving) To fac< 326 Cagnes 329 Antibes 331 Le Puy 333 Royat 334 In the Dean's Garden, Canterbury 338 Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, Dean of Westminster. (Photo- gravure) To face 339 Courtyard, Deanery, Westminster 341 Palace Garden, Peterborough 344 Fontaines 361 Arc de S. Cesaire, Aliscamps, Aries 362 At Savona 363 Sestri 365 Castle of Este . 397 Petrarch's Tomb, Arqua 399 Tomb of the Count of Castelbarco, Verona 400 Esmeralda's Grave 432 Mary Stanley. (Photogravure) To face 441 Joigny 468 Porte d'Arroux, Autun 472 Ford Castle, the Library I7.~» Bar-le-Duc 482 Bridge of Bar-le-Duc 483 Mantua 485 Vicenza 486 Vicenza from Monte Berico 187 The Prato della Valle, Padua 488 Siena 489 x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Page s. Gemignano 490 The Hotel ilr Londres during the Flood 495 8. Antonio, Pisa, during the Flood 491) \'iiw (torn tlic Via Gregoriana 505 Nniii 511 Tivoli • 513 Bracciano 516 Grave of Augustus \\ . Han 1 , Rome .~>1 s From the Loggia dei Lanzi 520 Piazza S. Domenico, Bologna 521 Cluny 524 Cloister of Fontenay 525 St. Martin.-. Canterbury 532 Henry Alford, Dean of Canterbury. (Photogravure.) To face 532 The Church Fane, Hurstmonceaux 545 X WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES " Ad 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. Ox 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 Peurhyn, who died at Sheen while we were at Men- tone, passing away most peacefully, surrounded by his family. This uncle is one of the few figures con- nected with my childhood with whom I have no asso- ciations 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 VOL. II. 1 •J THE STOR1 OF MY LIFE [18 it wen 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 sed with the laudatory notices which fol- lowed the appearance of the Handbook, that he asked me to select any other counties I liked. 1 chose Dur- liam and Northumberland, and after the middle of Jnlv went there for three months. In undertaking these comities. 1 again assented to an arrangement by which I was never repaid for my work ; but the work - one which I liked extremely, bringing me in con- tact with endless interesting persons, enabling me to be much with " Cousin Susan."' who gave me a second home at Ridley Hall, and opening a held of historic study of the most interesting kind. ( >n the way north I went to the Vaughans at Doncaster. of which Dr. Vaughan had lately become Vicar. my Mother. " L . July '24. 1861. The people here are a per- petual 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. • Xa. 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, great annoyance of her neighbours ; hut when they complained she said. -"Wal. I niver did it afore I coomed here, hut I Ik? gettin' old. and I canna help it — and it 's the will ' G 1. 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-in^ines a-booming and a-rizzlincr 1861] WORK IX NORTHERN COUNTIES 3 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, J 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.' '' 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 thev made me dine with them almost every day. and I went constant expeditions with them, staying to dinner at the neighbouring hous -. Elemore, Aldin Grange. &c. Durham itself I always found charming. The smoke only gave a pictures, pi e- ness of its own. and on Sunday there was a Sabbath 7 *J 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 J 7 l the George Liddells, almost entirely spent in _ ing to THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 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 Le-sons tor the day. verse by verse, before we went out. Bui with all this, George Liddell was the very dearest and kindest of old men. and 1 was very fond too of his wife — "Cousin Louise" — who was most amusing and original. AT DURHAM. 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-grand- mother'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 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 5 Easington. Here I paid my first visit to them. It is an ugly village in the Black Country, but the Lid- dells' 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 Easing- ton, 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 quali- ties. They both died shortly afterwards. Amongst the company at the Bishop's were Mr. and Mrs. John- son of Akeley Heads, whom I also visited at their own beautiful place, which is on a high terrace over- looking 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 thai 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." 6 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 The old man said nothing, but went home and altered his will thai 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. 1 was frequently invited by Dean Waddington, who was a man of stately presence, " grand seigneur, fas- tueux, honime dn monde," and had a great reputation for learning and cleverness; but in my acquaintance with him he seemed to care for nothing but his din- ner, and his chief topic of conversation was his sherry of 1815, for which he gave £V1 a dozen. " What with diner a 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 wel- come 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 be- side his ancestors. Below is the old grey pointed bridge, upon which, as he rode over, he repented of his rebellion and turned hack to the castle, when his wife threw her tan 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 he applied to all the dwellers at Ridley Hall; for 'Cousin Susan' is so truly genial to her 1861] WORK IX NORTHERN COUNTIES 7 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 mar- ried many years, but four of his daughters by his first wife are now out. Lady Blackett also had another Northum- brian 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 nights 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 s 8 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 have lived here undisturbed from time immemorial, come rushing everv 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 succes- sion, placed to await her at different points in the park. Nothing can he more lovely than the evening effects each dav I have been here, the setting sun pouring streams of golden light into the great grey mysterious basins of the Cheviots, amid which Marnhon died and Paulinus bap- ti/.ed 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 scarcel}' 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 Tank- erville and 1 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 1861] AVORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 9 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 prin- ciple 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 kind- ness 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 unpromis- ing; 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 moor- lands 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, Avhich 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 picknicked and rambled about. Coming home we told stories. A tremendous shower came on, and then the sky Ill THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 cleared for B -olden 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 gypsy 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." " Bamhorouyh 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 IIolv 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 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES H looks tlirough 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 pictu- resque, and Warren 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 tlirough 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 lii^ marriage with Miss Fellows 2 ), and I have been with him to pay a long visit to Grace Darling's 2 old father, an inter- esting man, with as much information as it is possible for 1 Susan, 5th daughter of Thomas Lyon of Hetton, married the Rev. J. Fellowes of Shottesham. 2 The heroine of the wreck of the Forfarshire, Sept. 5, 18-'i8. [2 Till-: STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 any one to have who has Lived since he was one year old mi 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." " Ridley Hall, Sept. 19. Cousin Susan and her old friend Miss Coulson, with 'the boys' (the dogs), were ON ALLEN AVATER, KIDLEY HALL 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 ( lousin 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 ns to church to-day — Tarlie was allowed to enter with the family, and Bloomer with the maids, but 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 13 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 reti- cule 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 ' has welcomed us very cordially. The house is in a hollow — an enormous building of the last century, enclosing a mediaeval 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 — Hyl- tons, 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, 2 walking in the gardens of Pauls- Walden. This house was the scene of her most terrible suffering's." x b "Streatlam Castle, Sept. 27. This is the oddest house I ever was in ! Everything is arranged for you, from the 1 Only son of John, 10th Earl of Strathmore, and Mary Milner. 2 Mary Eleanor Bowes, 9th Countess of Stratlmiore. 14 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [18G1 moment you get up till the moment you go to bed, and you axe 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 hath of eoal-hlaek aeid, 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 underlids 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 after- wards 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 neighbour- hood, and were principally used for the sons of London tradesmen, avIio, provided their sons got a moderate educa- tion, 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. Bowles's elections, the Nicholas Nickleby or 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 15 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, nee 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 chateau, 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 1 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 1 Paulina, daughter of the Rev. D. Jermyn. 16 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 Luncheon, which was as peculiar as anything else (Lady Trevelyan and her artists feeding solely on artichokes and cauliflowers), we went to the upper galleries to look at more pictures. " YTesterday 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.' " " Warkworih, Oct. 6. It is very pleasant being here with my kind Clutterbuck cousins, 1 and this old-fashioned house, though small, is most refined and comfortable, with its pervading smell of rose-leaves and lavender." " TJte Bock, Alnwick, Oct. 10. I am now staying with the father of a college friend, Charlie 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 1 Mrs. Clutterbuck was Marianne, youngest daughter of the Hon. Thomas Lyon of Hetton, my great-grandmother's youngest brother. 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 17 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 Availed 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 Fal- loden 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. " Yesterda}- morning I set off directly after breakfast with Charles Bosanquet, in the sociable, on a long expe- dition. 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. VOL. II. 2 IS THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 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 aboul half-past six, seeming to lie driving into a sort of gothic castle of Otranto, as we passed under the portcullis in the bright moonlight. 1 found Lady Waterford sitting with her charming old mother. Lady Stuart de Rothesay. . . . Her drawings arc indescribably lovely, and her sing- ing 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 hack two centuries. Painting is her great employ- ment, and all evening she makes studies for larger draw- ings, which she works upon in the mornings. She is going to make a * Marmion gallery' in the castle to illustrate the poem. "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 1861] WORK IX NORTHERN COUNTIES 19 the Rowting Lynn, a curious cleft, and waterfall in the moorland, with a k 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." W ■:--•-• ■ -' :■■■?... c -... --■ FORD CASTLE, THE TERRACE. "Boddam, 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 ! '' " Boddam,, Oct. 22. Yesterday was terribly dark and cold, but we went a long expedition across the moorland 20 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 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." " Bipley Castle, Yorkshire, Oct. 25. Lady Ingilby (who is sister of Mr. Bosanquet of Rock) kindly pressed my coming here on my wa}^ south, and here I am. It is a line 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. 1 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, 1 Afterwards Lord Wilfred Seymour. H ai X X s o a o fa 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 21 and where I have passed some of the happiest days of nry life. Lord and Lady Tanker ville, 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 them- selves, 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 cheer- ing 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. " Holmlmrst, 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 brides- maids 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 22 T1IE STORY OF MY LIFE # [1861 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 Eor 'the consolation of Christ' — that was to be their work and duty through life — 'the consola- tion 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; 1 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 in- voked 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 did age as conscience pure And self-commanding heart ensure, Waiting their summons to the sky, Content to live, but not afraid to die.'" 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 23 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 Hast- ings 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 ENTRANCE TO HOLMHURST: HUZ AND BUZ. 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 feel- ing 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 win) returned from taking- the letters of condolence: he insisted 24 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 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 unfavorable 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. 1 . . . When the Prince was dying, he repeated the h\ urn -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 say- ing, " 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 for- get, 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 thai he had dreamt, and wished he could have gone on dream- ing, that he lav dead, and that his spirit was going up to heaven, and that at the gates he saw ' Stephanie ' waiting t<> welcome him in. Everything fresh that one hears of Prince Albert makes one realise, 'Le prince e'tait grand, 1'homme l'dtait davantage.' " 2 1 Arthur Stanley's account. 2 Montesquieu. 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 25 In the course of the winter I was at Miss Leices- ter'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 hus- band that she had been very much disturbed by a dream. She said she had seen her little boy of four years old car- ried into the house dreadfully crushed and hurt, and that all the principal doctors in the town — Madden, Mackin- tosh, &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 car- ried 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 26 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1861 more change in my life than any other death outside m\ own home could have clone — that of my aunt Mrs. Stanley. Journal. " Holmhurst, March 23, 18G2. In March last year dear Uncle Penrhyn died. Aunt Kitty was with him, and fell 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 eh! 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 ner 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 Batty 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 grad- ually sank. The Vaughans w T ere 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 do pain at all: it was a mere passing- out of one gentle sleep into another, till the end. 1861] WORK EN NORTHERN COUNTIES 27 " 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 still- ness, 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 her- self, 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 acknowl- edgments 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 Rectoiy, 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 28 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1801 fell tenderly over the sides. ' I know thai 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 k blessed," they said, ' is the corpse that the rain falls on.' ' 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 — Al.DKRLEY CHURCH AND RECTORY. 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. 1861] WORK IN NORTHERN COUNTIES 29 In this winter I went to stay at Hnrstmonceaux 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 imi- tating 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 Confraternita della Misericordia met, as usual, at four o'clock, in SS. Cosmo and Damiano in the Forum, and went chant- ing in procession to the Coliseum. Those who re- member 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 raiei. Buon giorno, care sorelle — come state tutti? State bene? Oh, mi fa piacere, mi fa molto piacere! Fa bel tempo stasera, non 30 THE STORY OF MY LIFE [18C1 h vero? un tempo piacevole — cielo sereno. Oh ma piace- vole
  • S THE STORY OF MY LIFE [1862 I took in the aunt, a timid old la