HE AUTOBIOGRAPH AN IRISH 0CT0GENARL4i OMNIANA : THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN IRISH OCTOGENARIAN I'hoti) : L'tirri-ncr, Duhlitt. \ F roiUUpiece . J. F. FULLER, AGED OO. OMNIANA: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF AN IRISH OCTOGENARIAN J. F. FULLER, F.S.A., M.R.I.A., &c. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 681 FIFTH AVENUE 1916 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED LONDON AND EECCLES LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS FACING PAGE J. F. Fuller, AGED 55 .. .. .. .. Frontispiece Derriquin Castle .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 8 Glashnackee .. .. .. .. .. .. ,. 8 Reennaferrara .. .. .. .. .. .. 10 Field Marshal Viscount Wolseley (with facsimile of Handwriting) .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 44 Sir Arthur Helps .. .. .. ,. .. .. .. 66 Captain James Franklin Bland .. .. .. .. .. 84 Volunteer Eeview in Hyde Park .. .. .. .. 88 Rev. Arthur Robins .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 98 Dr. Thomas Fuller .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 106 Handwriting) .. .. 150 .. 152 .. 157 .. 159 ., 160 .. 163 James Payn (with facsimile of Mrs. Lynn Lynton ,, Sir Leslie Stephen ,, Samuel Butler ,, Sir John Tenniel ,, Richard Jefferies ,, G. H. Lewes .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 164 Philip Jambs Bailey (with facsimile of Handwriting) .. 170 Kylemore Castle .. .. .. .. .. .. .. 184 Ashford Castle .. ,. .. .. .. .. .. 184 Lord Justice Fitzgibbon (with facsimile of Handwriting) 204 J. F. Fuller, aged 80 .. .. .. .. .. •• 256 2058C11 OMNIANA FOEEWORD I SEEM to have intruded myself into the com- pany of posterity," says Frankhn, in one of his letters, " when I ought to have been a-bed and asleep." This is my case, in a nutshell. It did not occur to me to take up my pen, till I was due to depart — in fact a long time overdue ; else I might, by preserving documents, and noting forgotten inci- dents of interest, have produced something to better justify my work. But this is hardly an adequate excuse for imperfections ; and I shall, of course, be sorry if the critic is disappointed at not finding greater " body " — as the Laconian was, when he plucked his nightingale, and found it voice, but little else. Sir Roger L'Estrange says that " books and dishes have this in common, that there never was any one of them to please all palates. If any man has a mind to take part with me, he has free leave and welcome ; but, let him carry this consideration with him, that he is a very unmannerly guest who quarrels with his 1 B 2 OMNIANA dinner." All the same, I feel that the worthy knight rather begs the question ; for, when you invite a man to a repast, you should provide meat and drink of a palatable and potable nature. This is what I shall strive to do ; but, whether I succeed or not, only the guest can determine. I am not daring enough, or rash enough, to take up a position like that of the great Dean of St. Patrick's, when he says, in a letter to Gay the poet : "I must talk nonsense wlien I please ; and, all who are present must commend." HUMAN portraits," says Thomas Carlyle, " faithfully drawn, are of all pictures the welcomest." I am in full accord with this expression of opinion because memoirs and auto- biographies have been, to me, always of the greatest interest. And now, in the behef that a like interest is very general, I have resolved to add one more to the number of these portraits — as faithfully drawn as it is in my power to draw it. I camiot call myself a celebrity, nor is it necessary that I should be one ; for, as John Duke of Bucking- ham says in his Memoirs, " accounts of persons, though not very considerable, when written by themselves, have been greedily read, and are often found useful, not only for the knowledge of things past, but as MAN A VAIN ANIMAL 3 cautions for the future " ; and, this is the reason he gives for choosing " to employ some part of that leisure which I have had at intervals, in setting down, exactly and impartially, all I could remember of myself, as a kind of picture left behind me, to my friends and family, though neither well nor hand- some." The note of self-depreciation may be taken for what it is worth : somehow it never rings true, and is a mere conventional concession, to avert or nulhfy the charge of vanity. But, we are all more or less vain. If we haven't a good opinion of ourselves, based on intimate knowledge, we can't expect mere acquaintances, whose knowledge must be superficial, to form a favourable one. Buckingham himself says, later on : " Nothing expresses the peculiar nature of humanity half so rightly as that of a vain animal ; " and, undoubtedly, the great charm of that dehght- fully egotistical sinner, Montaigne, Hes in the self- appreciative autobiographical touches with which his essays abound. " Custom allows," he says, " to old age, more liberty of prating, and more indis- cretion of talking of a man's self." Even the Stagyrite commends self-esteem as natural ; but, he draws the fine distinction that, when it developes into selfishness it is reprehensible, because it is then to love oneself too much. I leave it at that ; and, having said enough by way of apology, the question is — how to begin ? 4 OMNIANA I cannot do better than turn to the work of another aiitobiographer, Benvenuto CelUni. He lays it down as " a duty incumbent on upright and credible men [to which fraternity I may lay claim to belong] of all ranks, to record, in their own writing, the events of their Hves," with the added injunction that " they should not commence this honourable task till they have passed their fortieth year." His record ceased at the age of sixty-six : I commence mine at a period which is double the limit of the danger zone laid down by him. He goes on to say, " In work like this, there will always be found occasion for natural bragging. The fact is that a man should let others know if he draws his lineage from persons of worth and very ancient origin." Here Cellini gives a good lead, and I am pretty safe in following it, and indulging in a httle of this natural bragging which is congenial. Very early in life, I developed a craze for heraldry and genealogy ; and, it was a source of gratification to me to find that not only were both my grandfathers men of pedigree, but that they had adequately ful- filled their duty to myself, by marrying in a way which left nothing to be desired, by the most exacting Kerryman, in the matter of pedigree ; and opened up a boundless genealogical field for my enthusiasm to explore, in later hfe, in the spare moments of a varied career. MY CRAZE FOR PEDIGREE 5 RIGHT here — as the Americans say — I may as well set down, by way of parenthesis, all I have to propound touching this subject of genealogy in the abstract, before proceeding to discuss the concrete. I learned, many years ago, from perusal of Sir Bernard Burke's and other books, on the same subject, that the goal of one's ambition should be to achieve the seize quartiers — possession of which, in Germany, Austria, Sweden, Denmark, and other countries, is recognised by crowned heads, as conferring the right to appear at Court functions, presided over by the Sovereign — a distinction which did not fully appeal to me till I learned that there was, so to speak, a super-goal, a trente deux or double seize quartiers, almost as impossible to reach as, say, the North Pole : then I resolved to get there ; and succeeded, after years of research pursued in the intervals of business. In the Appendix (A) will be found a chart which those not interested in pedigree need not turn to ; but which will make things per- fectly plain at a glance, to those who are. Many famihes can trace back in a perpendicular line, three or four hundred years ; but, to account for thirty-two ancestors in a Jiorizontal line, beginning with one's great-great-great-grandfather, is quite another thing ; and, to succeed is to win the blue ribbon of genealogy. In the chart, I have numbered these thirty-two ancestors of mine, beginning with Wilham Fuller and 6 OMNIANA ending with the Reverend James Bland. I may remark that one blank spoils all ; and that an ille- gitimacy counts as a blank, and is an insuperable bar to progress. Numbers 13 and 14 kept me on the rack for years ; the blanks staring me in the face ; but, at long last, my perseverance was rewarded by the discovery of a father and mother for Captain Thomas Goddard, and my trente deux quartiers was complete.* But it is time for me to turn to my more immediate ancestry. My mother was a daughter of Francis Christopher Bland, D.L., of Derriquin (by his wife, Lucy Herbert) ; one of a family of sixteen ; and acknowledged to be the handsomest of six surviving girls. She was as good as she was fair : no words of mine could over-state her merits, nor is it necessary that I should endeavour to enumerate them. She was seventeen when she met my father. He was the eldest son of Captain Edward Fuller (by his wife, Elizabeth Blennerhassett), and resided at Beech- mount, near Kenmare, for some time after his father's death. He, also, was very good looking, and was aged twenty-four — an irresistible, blue-eyed Adonis, with all the captivating attributes which win hearts, both male and female ; a fearless horseman ; a crack shot ; an all-round sportsman and athlete ; could * The late Lord Mowbray Segrave and Stourton was very proud of having proved liis trente devx quartiers. It does not follow tliat his son has them. He inherits the descents of course, through his father ; but, to show his own right to treiite deux quartiers he must prove sixteen neio ones through Jiis mother. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 7 sail his yacht and drive tandem or four-in-hand, with skill and dexterity. Moreover, he neither gambled, drank, nor smoked. He sang Moore's Melodies ex- quisitely ; played the flute to perfection ; and, danced an Irish jig or reel with equal grace. But, unfortu- nately, he was wildly extravagant, and had abeady squandered a good estate (inherited as eldest son, and held under Trinity College) and run through every- thing. This was my maternal grandfather's chief objection to the match ; probably also he may have thought his daughter too young ; but if so he forgot or ignored the fact that her mother was about the same age, when she became chatelaine of Derriquin ; or he may have dreaded a like result — ^too numerous a progeny, for his daughter. But whatever his objec- tions were, they were disregarded. He refused his consent, with the usual result. When my father first saw my mother it was all over with his other conquests — and they were many. He was at the time actually engaged to a Miss L C , daughter of Captain C C , whom he promptly jilted ; behaving, it must be owned, abominably to her ; but all is fair in love and war, and she ultimately married E G , nephew of Sir J G •, the second baronet. The new flame kindled at Derriquin soon blazed and rose to fever heat. The courtship had to be carried on clandestinely, under romantic circum- stances. My father dared not put in an appearance 8 OMNIANA by daylight ; so he had to be content with moon or starhght ; or both or neither ; as the case might be ; and wind or rain was as nothing to such an ardent lover. He was notoriously a first-rate judge of horseflesh, and his stable was always to be rehed on. Night after night, when the inmates of Beechmount were a-bed, he stole out, saddled a favourite mare, and rode of! to do his courting. At Derriquin, he was met by my mother and two of her sisters ; and could safely count on two or three hours of love-making while his unsuspecting and future father-in-law slept ; and yet be home again before the servants were astir. Not that this mattered : for the domestics at both houses were in the secret, and in full sympathy ; Irish retainers always are, under hke circumstances. As a matter of course there could be only one satisfactory ending to these meetings — flight, and a runaway marriage. So one night, accompanied by a faithful Abigail, Mary Falvey (who was afterwards in our service for over twenty years — till she married a fiddler named Buckley), the lovers posted to Cork ; got on board a passage boat to Glasgow ; and were married, in Gorbals parish, by a venerable old clergy- man named McClean. (I obtained a copy of the certificate, some years ago, which was necessary for pedigree purposes.) When the dehnquents returned they went to Kenmare, hoping that the storm might blow over — which it did not for a very considerable time. However, my mother was her mother's I'hoto: Latcreiici'. Dublin. DERRIQUIN CxiSTLE. SEA FRONT, riioto: Lawrence, Duhl (iLASilNACKKlO. MY FIRST APPEARANCE 9 favourite daughter ; and the young couple rehed on her efforts to throw oil on the troubled waters. But my grandfather was not to be easily won over. My advent, in due course, was expected ; and there was nothing for it, on the part of my grandmother, but to " steal a march " in order to get my mother within reach. The townland of Nedanone, on the estate, and about seven miles from Derriquin, was occupied as a dairy farm, by my grandfather's agent, John Jermyn, and there, in a very small house, vacated by him fro tern., I was born. " I have known the story," writes a cousin, " since I was a child. It used to sound like a fairy tale to me. Such a pretty spot ! Mr. John Jermyn held a lease of the whole townland at the time. His sons sold their interest in it, later. The house stood on a rock on the high-road as you go towards the West, before you get to the turn to the ' White Strand/ The gable was still standing, some years ago, covered with ivy ; about a hundred yards or so from the road ; and approached by a sort of little rocky terrace, also ivy-covered, with, here and there, a few shrubs, a little wood above, and wild rocks around." Even the name is romantic. I asked my friend, the learned Dr. Joyce — author of those three charming books on Irish flace-names- — to explain the meaning, which he promptly did. " Nedanone means simply a bird's nest — Nead-a-noin ; an odd name for a townland." But, this oddness is explained by the 10 OMNIANA fact that its bit of wooded scrub and ivy-clad rock presented the only nesting-place for birds, within a radius of some six miles. The romance of the situation was all very well in its way ; but, the difficulties of commissariat had to be met and overcome, which was done by the despatch of a horse and cart, twice a week, with provisions, plentiful and various, and supphed by my grand- mother's orders, from headquarters. Potatoes, milk and butter were the only food-stuffs indigenous to Nedanone. After I appeared upon the scene our stay here was short. My father settled down at Reennaferrera (Look-out Point), which brought my mother nearer home. It was and is a lovely spot ; beautified and improved by his judicious planting of trees, and since by my friend Colonel Hartley ; to whose father it was sold, when we made a final move to Glashna- cree (the httle stream by the tree), which I have owned since my father's death in 1886. At the former place I spent my young days, and thoroughly enjoyed hfe. My earliest recollection is my escaping, one bright, sunny morning, in a state of nature, from the custody of Mary Falvey, and heading for the strand below the house, for a dip in the " briny " ; but I was captured before reaching my objective, by that faithful domestic. It will perhaps, hardly be credited, but it is, nevertheless, true, that my memory goes back to my Photo : Laurence, Dublin. Photo: Lawrence, Dublin. REENNAFERRERA. EARLY MEMORIES 11 grandfather's death, when I was only in my fourth year. I can recall everything — the room he died in, the great four-poster with its heavy hangings ; the bright turf fire, blazing in the grate ; the weeping women ; and my mother taking me in her arms, and holding me down to be kissed by the dying man. Of course I did not realise anything about death, or fully understand the import of the situation ; but, the incident was indelibly stamped upon my memory. I can remember that when I was probably about six or seven years old I was rapidly developing into a headstrong young whelp — a handful for a too- indulgent mother to contend with ; when I was unexpectedly brought to subjection by my aunt M , who, in a moment of inspiration, threatened to perform a terrible surgical operation upon me with the dining-room snuffers — a gruesome implement, which lay ready to her hand — if I was not instantly " good." I knew that my mother would never resort to such drastic treatment, but I soon found that my too complacent father had entered into league with the enemy, to save himself trouble. Only for this I might have shown fight — audendo magnus tegitur timor — but " two- to-one " was too long odds against my bluffing it ! I got to love Aunt M •, good soul, later on, when I came to years of indiscretion. While I was still in my bib-and-tucker days an incident occurred which might have terminated my inglorious career, and rendered the production of this 12 OMNIANA veracious narrative impossible. The Keverend N. Bland, for several years Incumbent of the parish (afterwards Archdeacon of Aghadoe), was married to my father's sister. They had no children, and consequently, I came into request and favour with this aunt, and spent much time at the Rectory. I was ordered (having been caught in the act) never to stand on the fender ; and, finding myself alone in the dining-room, I of course disobeyed the injunction, by attempting to reach something on the mantelpiece. My bib caught fire, and my cries promptly brought Uncle Nat to the rescue. With the hearthrug he put out the flames, burning his hand in the process ; and having ascertained that I was more frightened than hurt, he proceeded to supply the deficiency in this latter respect by placing my charred remains across his knees and administering, with the injured hand, a castigation which I never forgot, and which, as " a disobedient young brat," he said I richly deserved. Later on, I had my first narrow escape from drowning. My father's yacht had been brought into a deep creek at the back of Reennaferrera for the purpose of being dismantled and laid up for the winter. Bat Leary, able seaman, ship's cook, and general handy man, was busy on deck with my father, while I played about on the rocks, lost my footing on the slippery seaweed, and went down and out of sight in no time. I knew no more till I found myself being carried home by my father, who had thrown off DERPJQUIN 13 his coat and taken a header from the deck in order to rescue his hopeful heir. It was a close shave, but I was none the worse after a few hours' sleep. IT is a trite saying that times have changed : they always do — and keep on doing it. " It's a way time has," as Mark Twain says. Derriquin, in my grandfather's and uncle's time was typical — an embodiment, an epitome so to speak, of a variety of conditions of life which have ceased to exist in Ireland under Gladstone's and subsequent land legislation. Formerly, if a tenant wanted roof timbers or flooring, he asked the '' masther," who sent the steward to mark trees in the woods. These were felled in due course, and brought to the saw-pit, where two sawyers were kept busy, reducing logs to required scantlings ; joinery was done in the carpenter's shop, where sashes and doors were turned out, and which was presided over by the crankiest man that ever handled a tool — old Frank Dwyer. Sometimes, it must be owned, he got provocation and annoyance enough to sour his temper, from the small fry of predatory amateur mechanics — of whom I was one — who gapped his planes and chisels, and buckled his saws. There was a forge, where the tenants' horses were shod, bolts, rivets, and nails made, and all sorts of smith's 14 OMNIANA work done by Jack Shea — a lamb when sober, but not infrequently, when he wasn't, a veritable tiger. The ping ping of his hammer on the anvil always brought us boys round him. Sometimes he would let one of us work the bellows, and, at others, he would chase us of? with the glowing red-hot iron. He was a grimy and fearsome personahty, " a blacksmith super- carbonated " as Leigh Hunt says, but fascinating withal. There was a paint, oil, and glass store, the key of which my uncle (after whom, by-the-bye, I was christened James Franklin) always kept in his pocket, to guard against surprise visits from young marauders. He did the painting and glazing himself for the tenantry. This uncle was a first-rate mechanic, as well as a painter and glazier, and could do wonderful things with the lathe also. Everything in the shape of food was, so to speak, " on the premises." Bullocks, sheep, and pigs became, in due course, beef, mutton, pork and bacon. A fowlyard supplied poultry, ducks, geese, and eggs. There was a fish pond replenished at intervals, from a trawler, with fish for table. This pond was a great source of enjoyment to me. Lobbing pebbles on to the backs of the flat-fish to set them flopping of? in their ungainly fashion was an amusement which no boy could resist. The pond held, too, for many years, an honoured occupant immune from annoyance — a mullet blind of an eye, and so tame as to take food A QUEER FISH 15 from the hand. The only practical joke I ever played on the old chap was offering an unsavoury morsel, which he indignantly spat out and then turned tail. I wondered whether he would harbour any vindictive feehng ; but I found next day that he didn't ! Until quite recently I believed this fish to have been sui generis ; but I find, from the Annual Register, that, in 1796, there was a tame trout in a brook at Chapel le Dale that a gentleman fed with worms and meat, " which it takes from between his thumb and finger ; and, a short time ago, actually bit his finger till it bled, when he had no meat for it." The mullet was of a more amiable disposition, anyhow. And here I may fittingly introduce a story which, if not true, was hen trovato, and was palmed off on the traveUing correspondent of a London paper, to the effect that a tame lobster was wont to emerge occasionally, and follow my uncle James, like a dog, about the quay. The gentleman duly reported the curious fact, but with a reservation clause stating that he had not seen the lobster do it. BUT it is time that I introduced a few facts touch- ing the early Fullers. These shall be as brief as possible. The first of the name in Kerry was, according to Burke, John Fuller, who, in 1583, 16 OMNIANA was " of Bowlerstown and certain lands in Ballybeg/' and who sold, in 1635, to Teige Moriarty, three town- lands, which were held from the Crown, " by Knight's service." He appears to have previously gone into rcbelhon and was pardoned in 1603. Naturally, with my strong genealogical prochvities, I yearned to locate his ancestry in England. This meant obtain- ing abstracts o£ all Fuller wills from the earliest date down to about 1680. The immense collection which took years of intermittent labour to get together, I presented to the Society of Genealogists of London, for reference by other Fullers in the future. All I obtained by my protracted search, was the incon- clusive evidence that we came originally from Essex. This evidence was contained in the will of Samuel Fuller, proved in England in 1635, in which he mentions his third son " John, if he doth ever happen to come over again " — a phrase which points to Ireland, as it would hardly be used in reference to a more distant or a foreign country. Anyhow, that's all I got for my pains. I don't ask for sympathy ; but the facts are worth recording to show how far afield the pedigree craze may lead one. My great-great-great-grandfather William Fuller was in some respects a remarkable man. In addition to property in Limerick and Cork, he had large tracts of land in the barony of Iveragh in Kerry, which he stocked with numerous herds of cattle. He carried on an extensive mercantile business, also in the City CATTLE HOUGHING IN 1769 17 of Cork, and was Government contractor for the victualling and transport of troops, as is proved by the Civil Service correspondence in the Record Office, Dubhn. It was, doubtless, in connection with the supply of troops that he started cattle ranching in Iveragh, which got him into hot water, as we shall presently see. In 1745 he provided for transport of 1330 men for the expedition to Ostend. The names of his twelve ships and captains are given in King's History of Kerry. The bill for transport was £4000. In 1747 he furnishes his bill of £962 10s., for transport of drafts of troops " with twenty or thirty women and children in each ship " from Ireland to Portsmouth. His connexion with cattle ranching in Kerry resulted in the issue of several proclamations, one of which I append. History repeats itself. BY THE LORD LIEUTENANT AND COUNCIL OF IRELAND. A PROCLAMATION. TOWNSEND. Whereas we have received Information upon Oath, That in the Dead Time of the Night of the Nineteenth Day of April laft. Eight Bullocks and Twenty-four Heifers, advancing to the Age of Three Years, the Property of WiUiam Fuller, of the City of Corke, Gentleman, of the value of Three Guineas each, were picked and driven, out of a greater Number of Cattle, c 18 OMNI ANA off their Lodging Place on the Lands of Lnlaghmore, in the Barony of Iveragh and County of Kerry, to a considerable diftance, and forced into a bog at Lnlagh- more aforesaid, by Tories, Robbers and Rapparees out in Arms, and on their Keeping, of the Popish Religion, and that they then and there felonioufly houghed and maimed the faid Bullocks and Heifers, whereby the faid Bullocks and Twenty-three of the said Heifers were killed, and the twenty-fourth Heifer is in Danger of Dying. And whereas We have received information upon Oath, That fome Time in the dead of the Night of the Ninth Day of May laft, four Cows, the Property of the faid William Fuller of the price of Fourteen Pounds, were picked and driven out of a greater Number of Cattle, the Property of the faid WilHam Fuller, from off their Lodging Place in the faid Lands of Imlaghmore aforefaid, to a considerable Diftance, and forced into a Bog at Lnlaghmore aforefaid, by Tories, Robbers, and Rapparees out in Arms, and on their Keeping of the Popish Rehgion, who then and there felonioufly houghed and maimed the faid Cows, whereby they muft fhortly die. And whereas Information has likewise been given upon Oath, That in the Morning of the Eleventh Day of May laft, a paper was found ftuck to a Door of one of the Houfes on faid lands of Imlaghmore, in the Words following : *' Timothy the Redreffer of Griev- *' ances, defires the Pubhck, without Diftinction of REWARD BY LORD LIEUTENANT 19 " Perfons, to take Care how they deal with the Noted " Land Pirate, that has lately Incroached into the " Barony of Iveragh, tho' I Timothy live at a great " Diftance from the Country, ftill fhall do every Act " in my Power to relieve a Diftrefied People, from '' the Tyranny of Foreign Invaders ; This I hope will " be a Caution enough to the Pubhck. I have given a " Specimen of what I can do to the Pirate himself, " therefore I 'hope the Publick will take the Hint. " My Reafons for acting thus fhall be given at large " in a fhort Time. I am to be met with at the Sign " of the Dagger and Hart at Ennis — To the inhabi- " tants of Iveragh." Now WE, the Lord Lieutenant and Council, having a juft abhorrence of fuch barbarous and atrocious Crimes, do by this Our Proclamation hereby pubhsh and declare. That if any Perfon or Perfons fhall on or before the Sixth Day of December next, difcover all or any of the Perfons concerned in faid Felonies, or either of them, fo as he, fhe or they be apprehended and convicted thereof, fuch Perfon for difcovering fhall receive as a Reward the Sum of Fifty Pounds for each and every of the faid Perfons fo to be appre- hended and convicted as aforefaid. And we do hereby alfo further Pubhfh and Declare That if any Perfon concerned in faid Felonies, or either of them, fhall within the Time aforefaid difcover his or her Accomplice or Accomplices, so as he, fhe, or they be apprehended and convicted thereof, 20 OMNIANA lucli Perfon io dii'covering, fhall not only receive the laid Reward, but fliall alfo receive His Majefty's gracious Pardon for faid Felonies. And we do hereby f trictly Charge and Command all juftices of the Peace, Mayors, Sheriffs, Bailiffs, Conf tables, and all other His Majefty's loving Sub- jects, to ufe their utmoft Diligence in dif covering and apprehending the faid Felons and every of them. Given at the Council Chamber in Dubhn, the 6th day of June, 1769. Local tradition says there was " a great strong man named Thadig na Stiall," who was present among the men, at the houghing of the cattle ; and Fuller was told that he was leader of the " Whiteboys." Songs, in Irish, are still sung about him in Iveragh, a verse of one of which, translated, reads — " If ye saw Teig na Stiall, And he stepping thro' Sleevanimillig, He cared as much (or thought as little) about Fuller being on his track As of a grey old woman with a gun." The result of this proclamation was an abortive Trial at Tralee, particulars of which I take from the Hibernian Chronicle (Cork), of September 13th, 1770 : " On Wednesday, the 5th of this month, came on at " Tralee, before the Hon. Mr. Justice Malone, the trial *' of Daniel Connell, Timothy McCarthy, and Wilham " Hease, gentlemen, for houghing and maiming cattle " belonging to Mr. Wilham Fuller, and others, on the ABORTIVE TRIAL 21 " lands of Imlaghmore, Murrigh, Cooles, and Eallmiy, " in the barony of Iveragh, when, after a most solemn " hearing, which held for twelve hours, they were most " honourably acquitted, not only to the conviction of " the Court and Jury, but also of a very numerous and " respectable appearance of the principal gentlemen of " the County." And tradition further saith that Catherine, daughter of William Fuller, brought her undue influence to bear on her " intended," Edward Day of Loghercannon, foreman of the jury, and declared that she would never consent to the hanging of such a fine handsome man as Connell. Be that as it may, the man got off, and she became the grandmother of Judge Day. I am informed that his real name was Donal ac Murish Connell of Ballycarnihan Castle, near Cahirdaniel. My grandfather. Captain Edward Fuller, was with his regiment, when it was sent into Mayo, to oppose the French troops at Eallala and Castlebar, under General Humbert, in 1798 ; and was present when they made their last stand at Ballinamuck, where they surrendered. My grandmother Elizabeth, (Blennerhassett) followed her husband — at a safe distance — from place to place ; and, thus it came to pass that my father was born in Carrick on Shannon, when the regiment was quartered there. When I became the owner of two townlands of about 1400 acres in Kerry, they were encumbered by 22 OMNIANA an annuity amounting to half the rental, payable to a Mrs. Barry, nee Blennerhassett. Gladstone's Land Act gave the tenants power to call for a re-valuation every fifteen years, which whittled the income down each term. The old lady refused to make a corre- sponding reduction in her annuity. If the Act had been just, it would not have left annuitants any option in the matter ; but it was framed against the landlords only. If Mrs. Barry had not '' shuffled off this mortal coil " in an early stage of our business relations, my income from the land would not only have been down to zero, but many degrees below it. Before the third adjustment term which fell due in 1913 I sold the " Estate " — for it was dignified by that title in legal documents — to the Congested Districts Board. But I have lost my chronological bearings. The above fact has reference to my second childhood, rather than the first, to which I must return. MY early guide and exemplar, to whom I looked up with admiration, was a cousin, another James Frankhn, the second son of my uncle James Frankhn Bland the first. He was several years older than I was — a fine chap ; full of the joy of fife ; skilled in athletic sports ; and destined, by his own choice, for the Army ; but more of him as FASCINATING PUESUITS 23 a splendid soldier later on. Among his many per- fections he was an unerring rifle shot. I remember a number of seals putting in an appearance on the rocky sea-board to the south of the castle. Jim resolved to try his luck with the rifle. Bullets had to be cast, and other preliminaries adjusted, all of them interesting to me ; and, when everything was ready, we boarded a punt at the quay and made for our quarry. Jim sat in the stern, and I pulled cautiously ; taking orders from the skipper ; making as little noise as possible ; and keeping well under cover of the land. There was hardly a ripple on the water ; but the sun was blazing hot, and I — a mere hobble-de-hoy — was having nearly enough of it ; when I saw the rifle go up stealthily to the shoulder. I dropped the paddles well down, to steady the punt In a second the shot rang out, and a young seal tumbled off a distant rock. His companions vanished, but he, perforce, remained as a prize. It was no easy job to get the dead, heavy, baggy, slippery thing, into the small boat ; and we very nearly came to grief over it ; but we landed him at last in safety. That " we " was a great source of pride to the small boy ; and my sense of participation was gratifying in the extreme. There were other equally fascinating pursuits, notably digging for water-rats, on the small islands round about. A spade and a trusted Irish terrier, were all we required in the way of adjuncts. The 24 OMNIANA terrier looked upon that spade as a personal friend, and went for it boisterously the moment it was pro- duced — knowing well " what was up." He was always first into and out of the punt. Sometimes we were accompanied by my cousin's favourite greyhound Zoe;* but she obviously considered the whole business as infra dig., and merely looked on, without taking any part in the proceedings ; I usually held the terrier back by his stumpy tail to save his head from being chopped off ; while he sniffed and snorted impatiently at every dig of the spade, and made a bellows of his body — ^bursting with eagerness for the fray. No rat ever escaped him. If one took to the water, so did he, finishing his work with neatness and despatch, and losing no time in getting back. BUT many dehghts came to an end when Jim left Kerry to join his regiment- — still, not all. Another cousin, Arthur Hyde, took up the running. He was about my own age, and always ready to second me in the pursuit of enjoyment and adventure ; and, on the whole, we had, for some years, a pretty fair time. We were much together, as he preferred my father's house to his own. " Uncle Tom " was always 'persona grata with young relatives * There is a portrait of her in the picture of Captain Bland, page 84. MY FATHER'S CHARACTER 25 of both sexes ; and liked to be with them, and have them about him ; which gave me a feehng of pride in the proprietorship of such a parent. He had a happy knack of attracting boys, which he retained to the end of his days ; being in fact himself a boy — an old boy, to the last. And here a passing word about him which will come in now, as well as anywhere else. He enjoyed life thoroughly, and liked to see those about him do the same ; and, if he delegated to my mother certain duties and observances which were more strictly in his province, as head of the household, he placed them in capable and loving hands, by whom they were never neglected, nor perfunctorily performed. The worst that could be said against him — looking back at his character as I recall it, is that he some- times shirked disagreeables, and perhaps evaded responsibihties, while he had a keen eye for the comic and the ridiculous, and a ready wit. He won my affection early, and retained it to the last ; I can frame no heavy indictment against him for the Recording Angel to make a note of. He died at the age of eighty-one ; and met his end — which he had expected for some weeks — with such perfect composure that he upset me by a question, put as if it was quite an ordinary one — whether I had ordered the coffin ? *' Nonsense ! " I said, " don't talk of such a thing. Nothing of the sort ! " Some years before his death, when walking 26 OMNIANA through the churchyard with the rector, the Rev. Mr. T , he pointed out the spot where he wished to be buried. " Curiously enough," said the rector, '' that's the very place I had selected for myself." " Ah ! well, parson," rephed my father, " we won't fall out about it. ' First come, first served.' " And so it fell out that he rests in the spot he had chosen. At one time a great Antinomian wave of " Revival" intemperance — intoxication is the better word — swept over the parish ; and the Plymouth Brothers had it all their own way for a while. One day, my father, driving by the Coastguard Station at Blackwater, pulled up to inquire for one of the most active pro- pagandists, who had been ill. " Ah, sir," said a sailor-man at the gate, " haven't you heard ? " " Not dead ? " queried my father. " Yes, sir. He died this morning. The Lord has sent for him." To which my father, in sympathetic tones, re- sponded — " You don't say so ! Well, I hope the devil won't intercept the messenger." " No fear, sir, no fear," responded the sailor-man ; and my father drove away. This crapulous outbreak, while it lasted, was directed against the Church, which, for a time, it succeeded in damaging ; but my father remained UNCLE FREDDY 27 staunch, and being asked by a relative, W H , whether he was " revived," was able to reply— '' Well, no, Billy ; I heard it was very ' taking,' so I gave it a wide berth — for fear of infection." Uncle Freddy Hyde was of a different mould from my father ; a strict disciplinarian and formaUst ; with a numerous progeny to lead into the right path. His family prayers because of their length were something to be evaded by us boys in our youth, and to be memorable in after hfe ; and it did not seem to his son Arthur, in accordance with the fitness of things, that he, as the eldest, should submit to the ordeal ; though it appeared right enough that his sisters and younger brothers should. If, vicariously, through them, he could obtain any benefit, well and good ; but, if not, what then was the use of sisters and younger brothers ? The programme consisted of a Bible chapter from a formidable book by Dr. Dod- dridge, with a commentary on every verse of that chapter ; then there was a volume containing prayers for every day in the week — morning and evening. I used to wonder whether it would cause any difference if Uncle Freddy were to make a mistake about the day. Anyhow these severe half-hour ordeals meant smothered rebellion, and evasion where possible ; but this could only be got by absence of body, and to efiect it Arthur put in much of his time with me. The Fuller menage was wisely much more restricted 28 OMNIANA in these respects ; and the family was small. Many years later, and when well past middle life, on paying a visit to my widowed aunt, I recognised, in her possession, the identical volume of Doddridge (I think it was called the Family Expositor — or some name like that), and nearly lost my mental balance, for the moment. I have never forgotten " old man " Doddridge ; and, with this tribute to his memor}^, I dismiss him for the present. It would appear, from his pathetic autobiography, Father and Son, that Edmund Gosse suffered in this respect even more severely than my cousin Hyde ; the paternal instrument of torture, in his case, being Jukes on Prophecy — a book which I have not met with and have not sought for. I remember an occasion on which I, by some means, got hold of a quantity of gunpowder. How I came by it, I don't recollect ; but, probably, I stole it from my father's supply of ammunition, which he never took the precaution to keep under lock and key. However, how I got it is an insignificant detail ; the important one then was that I had the powder ; and, naturally, possession suggested to Hyde and myself the obvious idea that we should do something with it ■ — blow something or somebody up — else what was the use of having it. We decided to bore a deep hole in a peat sod, fill it with the powder, and explode it with a fuse made by rubbing some of the powder into brown paper (this receipt for making touch-paper I BLOW MYSELF UP 29 is known to all boys). Retiring to a secluded spot, behind a clump of trees, near the shore, we set a match to our fuse, retreated to a safe distance, and awaited results. Delay seemed to indicate a miss- fire. I grew impatient, and went nearer, to see what was wrong, when the charge went off so close to me that it blackened my face and scorched the hair on my head and eyebrows, but, fortunately, did no other damage. Hyde endeavoured to wash off the smut, with sea water, but without success. He then made tracks for Hollywood, where he lived ; and I slunk home by the yard into the kitchen. My appearance had such an effect upon Mary Falvey, that a cry from her soon brought my mother upon the scene. Her anxiety must have overcome her anger, after I had made confession ; but how I escaped the punish- ment, at the hands of my father, which I richly deserved, puzzled me very much at the time ; and I can only account for it now by concluding that my mother must have held him up to his own contempt as the major culprit for having left powder within reach of a boy. Anyhow, I escaped with a lecture, on giving a promise that I would never again be guilty of theft ; and which, to the best of my belief, I have kept — except in connexion with orchards ; no boy could be expected to resist apples ; and I feel certain that he would have allowed a special reservation with regard to them, if I had asked for it. Let me recall one other escapade. It occurred to 30 OMNIANA Hyde and myself that it would be highly satisfactory to carry out a practical joke at the expense of old Frank Dwyer, the Derriquin carpenter ; and we decided on a ghostly apparition, produced at the dead of night, as likely to effect our object. The ghost was duly constructed, draped in a sheet, and finished off at top by a turnip scooped out very thin, and illuminated with a candle. As the start had to be made from Hollywood, Uncle Freddy and Dod- dridge got their " innings," but our thoughts were centered, not on our devotions, but on the aftermath to which we looked forward. Instead of going to bed we started of! on our nefarious expedition, by a pathway through a plantation, which led by a short cut to the high-road, and passed close to the old man's house. The night was pitch dark. Hyde walked cautiously, carrying the spectre ; while I formed an advanced guard, and proceeded to recon- noitre. A fitful fight from the embers of a turf fire, showed old Frank seated on a three-legged stool, smoldng — " herself " having apparently retired to rest. My muffled and mysterious knock at the back door startled him. He put down his pipe promptly ; opened the door ; saw the ghost ; and passed hke a shot out into the darkness, with an oath. The immediate result was not what we expected. With a hop, step, and jump, he made for a turf stack at the gable end, and commenced a vigorous onslaught, emphasised by objurgations of which he was a master. A TUTOR TAKES ME IN HAND 31 Hyde bore the brunt of the attack — ^the ghost presenting a good mark. Soon the kiminous head came to grief ; and the old man, being suddenly reinforced by " herself " in dishabille, we beat a hasty and ignominous retreat, getting back to Hollywood with considerable difficulty. We tumbled into bed together with the knowledge that retribu- tion awaited us in the morning, for there was no escaping Doddridge ; he was served up, always, before breakfast. THE time came, at last, when my liberty had to be curtailed, my mother's efforts at moral instruction supplemented, and my father's desultory tuition abandoned in favour of a resident tutor, who was duly installed at Reennaferrera, where he reigned supreme for some years. He was a worthy old soul, and a first-rate teacher ; and his store of general knowledge seemed to me then to be inexhaustible. Looking back now, after all these years, I can only find his prototype in the barber of Bagdad (in the Arabian Nights) who thus enumerates his own acquirements : — " a finifhed Grammarian, a " compleat Orator, a fubtile Logician, a Mathe- " matician perfectly well vers'd in Geometry, Arith- " metick, Aftronomy, and all the Divifions of Algebra ; 32 OMNIANA " an Hiftorian fully Mafter of the Hiftories of all the " Kingdoms of the Univerfe." My father was a good Latin scholar, and could aptly quote his Horace or Virgil when opportunity offered. I aspired to follow his bent in my love for the Classics. My enthusiasm had been fired by hearing James Murphy — a college friend of my Bland cousins — translating passages from Homer, in the drawing-room one evening for the entertainment of the ladies, and I fondly but vainly imagined that, some day, I might be able to read Greek as fluently. Mr. Murphy became subsequently a distinguished barrister, and was engaged in many famous trials. He conducted the case for the Crown against the " Invincibles " — the murderers of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke, in the Phoenix Park — 'with such skill and acumen, that he was advanced to a judgeship ; a position which he adorned for many years ; fulfilhng his arduous duties with conspicuous abihty. It was a pleasure to him, late in hfe, to talk of the old days in Kerry, which we never failed to do when we met. I remember that one of the greatest dehghts I experienced, as a boy, was the receipt of a paint-box and brushes sent me, by him, from Dublin. Of course he had forgotten all about this gift, but I had not, and brought it to his recollection on one occasion. Some years after his death it was with a feehng of regret that I, as architect, had to destroy the identity of his hospitable house at EAKLY INCIDENTS OF MY CAREER 33 Stillorgan, in order to meet the flamboyant require- ments of an American " Boss " (Richard Croker) who purchased the place from the judge's executors. IN due course the tutor took his departure, and the question of my going to a boarding school had to be considered. Before starting on that momentous journey I should like to touch on a few minor facts and incidents which should not be omitted from a personal record of this description, even though they tell against the narrator. Very early in my career, I think my father came to the conclusion that I was not likely to do credit to the sporting instincts which he hoped I might have inherited. He owned a spirited sire horse named " Signal," which he was exercising one day while I looked on — an interested spectator ; this was a considerable time before I was breeched. Dismount- ing and holding the bridle, he lifted me into the saddle. My short legs were unable to catch a grip ; the seat was a sHppery one ; and the horse — looking upon the situation either as a joke or an insult — took to bucking, standing on his hind legs, and otherwise conducting himself in a fashion which struck terror into my infant mind. I yelled, as a matter of course, was rescued by my father ; just in time, and as I was D 34 OMNIANA about to turn a somersault ; and alighted on my feet instead of my head. From that hour the conviction was forced upon me that, if I could not get inside a horse, it would be safer for me to keep off his outside ; and this conviction has remained with me till now. Yet the irony of fate had decreed that the family crest should be a horse. As I grew in years and was breeched, my exploits with a gun, of which I had free use, were not brilliant. I remember " spotting " a hare in his " form," close to the house, in some adjoining scrub. Seizing the double-barrel, which always stood loaded in the hall, I stalked him. Squatted, Indian fashion on my heels, and under cover of a bush, I watched my opportunity. He left his " form " and, sitting up, looked about him. With murderous intent I fired and knocked him over. The gun, retaliating by a " kick," knocked me over at the same moment. I picked myself and the hare up, and took him in to replenish the larder. My father's comment on my prowess was an inteUigible damper ; it was " right enough to shoot rabbits, but wrong to shoot hares," he said ; I didn't ask why, but I presumed it was because they should be coursed. My subsequent experience with a gun did not prove a whit more satisfactory, though it resulted in the death of a snipe. I saw the bird in the dusk one evening, lazily rise from a ditch, and drop into the marshy corner of a field. Evidently there was some- thing wrong with it, or it was nesting (as an odd snipe UNCLE JACK 35 does, now and then, in the south) ; at all events I caught sight of it again, pottering about in the swamp, among the rushes, and — I shot it " on the run." I hoped to make capital out of this deed. My uncle Jack Fuller, who was a tart and vinegary- bachelor, priding himself (not unduly) on his reputation as a snipe shot, would be vastly impressed when he heard of my achievement. There was satisfaction in the thought, because he made no secret of his dislike to, and contempt for, boys. I had not forgotten that once, stung into retort, I taunted him with having been himself a boy, which he stoutly and promptly denied ; forcing me to accept his mendacious assertion, because, at the moment, I had no means of refuting it. I would show him, now, that a boy could shoot snipe. But I was suddenly confronted by a moral crux. I wanted to convey the impression that the bird had fallen to my gun legitimately, when on the wing ; but my mother had sedulously impressed upon me the imperative necessity of truthfulness. I resolved that I could not tell a lie direct ; but it was a clear case for suffressio veri, suggestio falsi ; let Uncle Jack draw his own conclusions — which he did without a moment's hesitation, and dubbed me " Pot-shot " ; a nickname which, to my chagrin, he kept up ever afterwards with such pertinacity that I began to fear it might supersede my baptismal one. Here I may as well finish off Uncle Jack, before going any further with my narrative. He Hved about 36 OMNIANA five miles from Glashnacree, in a charmingly situated residence which is still to be seen, at Blackwater bridge — a beauty spot known to all tourists passing to and fro, halfway between Kenmare and Park- nasilla. I remember that, one day, driving with my father to Kenmare, we pulled up at the gate, and interviewed the shock-headed youth who acted in the double capacity of butler and valet-de-chambre. His master, whom my father wanted to see on some business or other, was not at home. " Be gor, sir," said Jerry, *' he's gone — he's with the lord." But Uncle Jack wasn't dead. The lord wasn't even a spiritual one, but the Marquis of Conyngham, whose yacht had put in at Blackwater that morning, and who had taken " the masther " for a cruise which would probably last all day. Jerry and I were friends of long standing, and I elected to be dropped by my father, and picked up again on his return journey. We had the place to ourselves for the rest of the day, during which something had to be done. I went on a tour of inspection, and finally decided to fix up the salmon rod, which was standing invitingly in a corner of the sitting-room, and try my luck on the river. Jerry remonstrated, but finally accepted the inevitable ; and knowing where to find everything, soon produced line, reel, and fly book — out of which latter I selected the most gaudy specimen. Fully provided, I made my way down a steep dechvity, at I CATCH A SPENT SALMON 37 the back of the house. The bed of the river was nearly dry. Only one small pool was visible, with water enough to cover a fish. There was one in it ! The time was out of season, and the fish, therefore out of sorts — anyhow it did not wait for the fly to touch the surface. The hook was in its mouth and my heart was in mine, at one and the same moment. The fish took to jumping — fortunately up-stream, and landed several times, high and dry on the rocky and slippery surface. The pursuit became exciting. I dropped the rod, and Jerry and I went hot foot for our quarry. Jerry at last succeeded in effecting a capture by throwing himself on top of the spent and feeble salmon. I picked up the rod and we retraced our steps. I was elated, but Jerry, when we got back, looked obsessed, as he laid the fish down, and wiped his hands in the long wet grass ; then he straightened himself, and, drying his palms on his hips, delivered himself of the conviction that — " Be gor, the masther will kill the both of us — so he will." I inquired " Why ? " " Ah, shure, it's out of sayson, all together. And weren't we poachin' into the bargain, and you without a Hcence." After due dehberation we determined to hide the evidence of our guilt ; put back the rod and tackle, and keep dark. What ultimately became of the fish I never heard, and I had to content myself with 38 OMNIANA this recollection of that which Sir Henry Wotton calls a not infrequent experience of the angler, *' an idle time not idly spent." I have recorded elsewhere an early escape from drowning. Later on I had another. My father was going on a cruise. Uncle Jack and I were of the party. The yacht was moored in Rossdohan harbour, not far from Glashnacree. The guests were all on board, the main-sail was going up, and I was pottering about the deck, not apprehending danger, when the boom caught me unawares, in the small of my back, and overboard I went. Bat Learey was into the punt in a brace of shakes, and effected a speedy rescue. There was nothing for it but to land me, like a half- drowned rat, to find my way home, disappointed and crestfallen ; while, ringing in my ears, was the exultant voice of Uncle Jack, as he shouted, " Ah, ah. Pot-shot ! Well done. Pot-shot ! " *' Keen as an acid for an alkali," * and always ready to rejoice in the discomfiture of a boy. One more incident and I have done with him. Our relations, as I have shown, were always more or less strained ; but, at last, I declared open war, when one day, discussing with my father, the question of my future profession. Uncle Jack volunteered the advice that I should be made a parson and apprenticed to * James Russell Lowell. I GO TO A BOAEDING SCHOOL 39 Uncle Nat Bland, then, as I said, rector of the parish. This was rather too much of a good thing ; and I was not reassured by my father's tentative remark that " there was time enough yet, to think about it." It was of course a grim joke, which — as a youngster — I took seriously ; and resented bitterly, as an unwarrantable interference with a matter which did not concern Uncle Jack. The suggestion did not materiahse, I need hardly say ; but at the time, it seemed horribly simple, and alarmingly feasible ; for I had no doubt that this process was the usual one by which clergymen were turned out. Peace to his ashes ! If, for a time, he was to me a thorn in the flesh, I have, at least, kept his memory green ; and I hope perpetuated it by this veracious record. AT last the dreaded day arrived when I had to leave home for a boarding school. The one selected was run by Mr. R ■ at Blackrock, near Cork. He was a spectacled, sallow-faced man, with a pug nose and black hair which imparted a blue tinge to his close-shaven jaws and chin. I did not like the look of him, at all, at first sight ; but his reception of my father and myself was so friendly — not to say warm, that the unfavourable impression wore ofi. We were invited to luncheon in his private 40 OMNIANA apartments, where I made the acquaintance of a big good-natured chap named H , who, I learned afterwards, was a bit of an ass ; was taken on as a " parlour boarder," and was being crammed for some exam, or other ; and only associated with the other boys in their play time. I got very chummy with him, while my father talked to Mr. K — — : In due course Ave sat down to luncheon, and every- thing went smoothly, till an impulse seized me to make a small ball of a piece of bread and shoot it with my thumb and first finger (as a boy shoots a marble) across the table into the face of H . It hit him on the nose and he jumped. I burst into a fit of laughter, in which he joined, but silently ; in fact he only gurgled, having an eye to the proprieties. My father reprimanded me in a perfunctory sort of way, and Mr. R— — took no official notice — ^just then ; but when the time came for parting, and he had shaken hands with my father, and shut him out at the hall door, he seized me by the jacket collar, and remarking, " We'll have to learn better manners, young gentle- man, by-and-bye," opened the schoolroom door and unceremoniously thrust me in among a crowd of young savages (as they seemed to me), who clustered round the new boy immediately. I will not dwell upon the ordeal of introduction. The schoolboy who has not felt the sensation of utter misery, desolation and lonehness attached to it, must have had an exceptionally unhappy home, which mine UNCLE TOM 41 certainly was not. It was borne in upon me that I simply had to " make the best of it," which I soon set to work to do. My cousin Hyde turned up in a few days, and I found another cousin, young E S , already there. We formed a defensive league, so that things turned out better than I expected. My uncle, the father of S , a retired navy captain, lived within easy reach ; and we three boys sometimes spent from Saturday to Monday together at his house. He was not so exigent in the matter of family prayers as my uncle Hyde ; but he had to read them, " by order " of my aunt, every evening. This did not unduly interfere with our play time. He began with a psalm, but always turned over the pages till he came to a short one. There was no Doddridge's Family Expositor ; everything was brief, smart, and crisp, and soon over. He was a genial, spruce Uttle man, who had seen service, and commanded a ship at the bombardment of St. Jean d'Acre. There was a framed engraving of her in the dining-room which was an object of interest to us boys. Uncle S had only one faihng — great curiosity as to the affairs of his relatives. I remember his accosting my father with the question, " Well, Tom, and what may be your income just now ? " The answer he got, on the instant, was, " Faith, S , I couldn't tell you : it fluctuates a good deal." My personal recollections of Uncle S are pleasant. I recall the fact that, some years after I had left school and was articled to 42 OMNIANA an architect in London, lie looked me up one Sunday, and treated me right royally. We went to church in Langham Place ; and, I saw him, when the offertory was being collected, put half-a-crown into the plate with one hand and take out two shilHngs with the other, which I thought a most courageous thing to do. His son E left school a year or so after Hyde and I went there. He joined the navy as a middy, and died young. Another schoolfellow was Thomas Deane, who afterwards went to Trinity College, and subsequently became a leading Dubhn architect. He was the son of Sir Thomas Deane, a Cork architect, of note ; was himself knighted ; and became the father of a third architect, equally clever, who was also knighted. This is, I should say, quite a unique record — three knights and three notable men of the same profession — for three successive generations. The last is, I am glad to say, still with us. The first Sir Thomas was, by the wags of Cork, associated with two other prominent citizens whose names I forget, and who were spoken of as " Blatherum, Leatherum, and Botherum." He was a great talker ; the second was in the leather trade ; and the last was a bit deaf. Cork was noted for wit of this mordant sort. I remember a couplet which was a play upon the names of two other citizens of an earher date who came to financial grief — " Going and Gonne are now all one, For Gonne is going and Going's gone." LORD WOLSELEY AND KING KOFFEE 43 Another witticism was at the expense of my cousin Hyde's family, of Castle Hyde in the same county. The first to settle in Ireland obtained (on 26th January, 1588) a grant of 12,000 acres. It was said by the wags, and truly said, half a century ago, that " they had nothing left then but the Hide." This cousin, who ultimately became my brother-in- law ; after he left school took to the sea ; and when he married had risen to a captaincy. Before I leave him I must tell a story or two connected with his career. He went out to the Gold Coast in command of the S.S. Thames with troops for the Ashantee campaign. Lord Wolseley, who was then Sir Garnet, received from his dusky enemy a letter written " to order " by an American or German missionary (who was in the savage's clutches) containing overtures which he believed to be treacherous, but was puzzled as to how to convey a warning : he succeeded, as it turned out, admirably. Sir Garnet showed the document to Hyde, who immediately called his attention to the extraordinary figures that occupied the place usually filled by the date, and which Sir Garnet had not noticed. These were 2 Cor. 2 cJi. 11 v. Obviously, the next step was to requisition a Bible. The reference read : " Lest Satan should get advantage of us, for we are not ignorant of his designs.'" Sir Garnet profited by the text, and was ultimately " one too many " for King Koffee. It is a matter of regret that the name 44 OMNIANA of the missionary has not been recorded ; Sir Garnet's interpreter was named Dawson. Hyde, on his return trip, brought back, with two other officers, Sir WilHam Butler, then a captain ; who when taken on board, was in a high state of malarial fever. On the second day at sea, he was reported dead. The doctor, his brother officers, and Hyde hurried into his cabin, where he lay apparently lifeless, as the situation was being discussed ; when suddenly his vitahty asserted itself ; and, in his dehrium, he jumped clean out of his cot. With great difficulty he was soothed and got to bed again, and in a few days was on the mend. The first request he made, on recovering his senses, was for a priest to be called in on the earhest opportunity. One was found at Madeira, who ministered to his spiritual needs, and went away, taking with him a bag of sovereigns — whether in trust, or as a gift, or for masses, no one could tell. But Sir Wilham did not die then, as we know ; and Hyde never lost sight of him till he handed him over to the hospital authorities at Netley. When going out subsequently with more troops, which were under the command of Colonel, afterwards Sir Charles Pearson, a court-martial was held on a private soldier who had stolen another man's rations. The culprit was sentenced to receive a few strokes of the " cat." When the preUminaries were being gone through, on deck, Hyde begged the Colonel — if he Vhoto': Londun Stereoscopic Co. FTELD-MAKSIIAI. VISCOTJXT AVOLSELEY. /«-««-^^^ Afhu^n.^iS^ hhiijJui J. 7- /^^H^ ^ FACSIMILE OF VISCOUNT WOLSELEY S HANDWRITING. HYDE INTERVIEWS A COUSIN 45 could see his way — to forego the punishment, as his ship had been always free from such inflictions, and he did not wish her good record broken. The Colonel acceded to the request, remitted the punishment, improved the occasion by a judicious speech to the rank and file, and a eulogy of Captain Hyde ; to whom the Colonel's wife afterwards confided the information that her husband was greatly pleased to find his way out of a very disagreeable duty ; as he loved his regiment and his men, and beheved more in kindness than in punishment. But the best story, to my mind, remains to be told. When in command of a " trooper " taking soldiers somewhere or other, the ship struck a reef, in a fog, and foundered. Fortunately no lives were lost ; and he was comphmented for his coolness and courage under the trying circumstances. He came home, and, pending his appointment to another command, he paid a visit to a relative, Captain K — — • W , R.N., who was actively engaged in evangehcal work, and was secretary to some rehgious society working among sailors. After feehngly discussing the wreck. Captain W • proceeded to improve the occasion by delivery of a short lay sermon ; and wound up by saying : " Well, Arthur, your Hfe has been spared, and you should be thankful to Providence." Hyde's retort on the instant was : " I'd be a great deal more thankful if Providence hadn't sunk my ship." This sounds irreverent ; but it is, after all, only 46 OMNIANA a seaman's blunt way of giving expression to a con- troversial point wliicli lias set dogmatists by the ears for centuries. Captain W was horrified, who would have accepted, w^ithout question, the assertion of Wesley that, when a horse ran away with him, the animal was instigated by the devil ; but that his stopping was prompted by Providence ; which is a " tall order " — for one naturally asks, as no doubt Hyde would have asked, why the beneficent influence was not exercised in the first instance to prevent the running away. AND here, disregarding, as I have habitually done, all chronological sequence, I must relate another, and final, Hyde story — this time con- nected with my sister. She was living in London at the time of the great Fenian scare, and the alarming bomb outrages — such as the attempt to blow up Clerkenwell prison — committed by the American- Irish of the school of Patrick Ford and 'Donovan Eossa. I wrote to her inviting myself on a visit. She replied that my advent w^ould be opportune, as she had just got a nervous young country girl as parlour-maid, who had never seen an Irishman ; and was in fear and trembling lest she should be blown up, or otherwise violently done away. The night of A PARLOUR-MAID'S PERPLEXITY 47 my arrival, Mrs. Hyde summoned the girl, in a voice audible to me on the doorstep — " There's an Irishman outside, Jane. Open the hall door. Don't be frightened ; come along, I'll go with you." When I was inside, and had got through with my brotherly salutation, I made indirect overtures to the enemy by saying : " I suppose this is your maid." " Yes, that's Jane." " Well, Jane," I said, " how do you do ? " and I held out my hand ; but she was too scared to take it ; and I was obhged to do all the shaking for her. Next morning after breakfast I was surprised to see my sister carefully disposing of the egg shells in the fireplace. She answered my questioning look with a laugh. *' You just keep quiet, Jim, and you'll have a full explanation presently," she said. I subsided behind the newspaper. Jane entered to remove the breakfast things ; and, when halfway through, came to a halt, and was, evidently, a bit bewildered : she, in fact, missed the shells. " AVhat's the matter with you, girl ? " queried my sister. " The — the — eggs, ma'am," said Jane, tentatively looking round the table. " Oh, never mind them," explained the mistress. " It's all right." Poor Jane, evidently perturbed, proceeded with 48 OMNIANA her work haltingly, and Mrs. Hyde had to rally her again. " Why, what on earth are you about, Jane ? Why don't you clear away ? One would think you were — looking for the egg shells." " So I was, ma'am," responded Jane, promptly. " Why, you young goose," exclaimed my sister, " don't you know, they always eat the shells in Ireland." I hid myself, still behind the newspaper, while the girl now made feverish haste to clear away, and departed. My sister went off into a fit of laughter, and I remonstrated with her in vain. " Well, Loo," I said, " leaving my digestive repu- tation out of the question, it seems hardly fair to the creature." " Oh ! nonsense," she retorted, " it will do her all the good in the world. I'll straighten matters up, by-and-by." And, there I had to leave it ; however, in the sequel, Jane and I parted very good friends indeed. BUT it is time I retraced my steps : I have not done with school yet. After a year or so's sojourn at Blackrock, it was decided by the Principal to transfer his scholastic activities to the SCHOOL SUNDAYS 49 metropolis ; taking with him a " choice selection " of his original " stock " of pupils, of whom I was one ; and here, in DubHn, my education was completed (as far as it went). I have to record no more startling incident to break the monotony of my school life than one fight, in which I got worsted, and retired with a black eye and a bloody nose ; but, the motives for the encounter and the name of the victor have escaped my memory ; and, whether or not he, subsequently, succeeded in the battle of life, I am, therefore, unable to say. That which has an abiding place in my memory is the misery of my Dubhn school Sundays. The chief plank in our master's educational platform was the planting in our youthful breasts the tenets of the Church of Ireland, as by law estabhshed. It was a speciahty, and occupied the forefront of his prospectus ; and, as a consequence, we boys felt the results severely. Sunday became a day of suffering. We were in close touch with Baggot Street church ; and, wet or dry, there was no escape. It was then the home of pure and unadulterated Evangelicahsm. The fabric stands to-day, as it stood then, displaying a pretentious cement front of " carpenter's Gothic," and a nondescript rear of rough masonry which may be described as " Georgian." Later on, in London, I heard some doggerel Unes recited, as descriptive of a new conventicle there, which apply equally to the E 50 OMNIANA exterior of this church in Baggot Street. They told how its builders essayed a front — " that aped Westminster Abbey ; And then they thought to cheat the Lord, And built the back side shabby." The interior is an oblong structure, which has galleries on two sides and one end ; and, at the other end, a communion space, railed off in lieu of a chancel. In my young days, the pulpit was fixed high up, in the wall, over this space, and was approached by a door leading from an invisible stairs at the other side of this wall ; but, in more recent times, it has been dropped down, on to a platform behind the com- munion table. It was our hapless lot, Sunday after Sunday, to sit out monotonous sermons, which generally lasted from forty to fifty minutes, dehvered alternately, after morning and evening services, by the Kev. V ■ (afterwards a bishop) and his curate. We had also to endure a protracted Sunday school, held in a big room over the entrance ; and to learn the collect for the day and " say " it — if a short one we thanked our stars, if a long one we had to " stay in " till we con- quered it. Our greatest trial was — when hstening to long-winded sermons, on winter evenings — endeavour- ing to keep awake, as we sat in rows, upstairs ; with the foul air from below shimmering visibly around the globes of the gas jets which projected from the gallery fronts ; and with the sour countenance of our SCHOOL SUNDAYS 51 Principal, ever on the watch to catch us napping. If he did catch us, it meant severe punishment, in the shape of writing out a psalm, or so many lines of Virgil or Horace, so many times over, which involved staying in, till the task was performed. However, a happy thought occurred to me which got over this difficulty most effectually. I ruled a sheet of paper the size of my prayer-book, into several columns, headed *' brethren," '" dearly beloved," '" beloved brethren," and other set phrases in frequent use by the two reverend gentlemen, and ticked them off as uttered. This device not only gave a factitious interest to the long-winded sermons, which had the desired effect of keeping me awake, but left it to be inferred that I was assiduously taking notes. I imparted the secret to my school chum ; and this conduced to the effectiveness of the scheme ; as we were on our mettle, and compared notes, after each sermon, to check our tots. The outer aspect of the two clergymen has never faded from my memory. The Rev. V was a tall, very handsome man, with a small head and a fixed smile that never left his face. He only wanted ^vings to complete his angelic appearance. The curate was his physical antithesis, whose head was the most prominent feature ; and if, in my imagination, I assigned him wings, I could only picture him shedding his body, and changed into a cherub with the wings behind his ears, and " buzzin' an' boomin' about " as 52 OMNIANA Tennyson says in one of his poems. But there was no transformation : the two were palpable, long- winded, intolerable bores, whom we had to put up with, as part and parcel of our miserable Sundays, I derived no benefit whatever from their wearisome and dismal discourses ; but doubtless the fault was wholly my own. Sometimes, whether we would or not, our thoughts wandered in boyish fashion — at least mine did — into speculative regions, seeking information but not always finding it. I recall, for instance, how dreadfully hard it was to beheve that the hairs of my head were all numbered ; and thought what a lot of trouble it must give the angels to " keep count," and how much of it might be saved by waiting, till I became bald. The lay teacher who presided over my class in Sunday school looms very distinct in my memory. He was a young man, kindly and enthusiastic, of a fresh countenance ; and, from his aspect, I concluded that he used " oil which maketh the face to shine " : in fact he glowed. His knowledge of Scripture was astonishing. He could find texts for everything on the instant, turning over the leaves of his large, hmp- bound Bible with extraordinary rapidity ; but, take him off the theological high-road, and he lost his way hopelessly. Looking back through the vista of years, it seems to me that, probably, his chief inspiration was Chilhngworth's Religion of Protestants (with perhaps a dash of my old acquaintance, Doddridge). But CHILLINGWORTH 53 here let me not be thought to disparage ChilHng- worth's great book, which appeared none too soon. For centuries " the Church," says Lecky, " had cursed the moral faculty by asserting the guilt of honest error. It remained for lum to teach for the first time, or nearly the first time, the absolute innocence of it." This ethical asset, bequeathed by ChilHngworth to us, leaves humanity for ever his debtor. The facts recorded about him account for much. Archbishop Laud was his godfather ; when he came to manhood, he renounced the reformed creed, and became a Roman Catholic ; subsequently he returned to the fold. No doubt the incidents of his career led him irresistibly to the far-reaching conclusion which he drew ; and which was based on his absolute sincerity of purpose in the search for truth. " The age of heresiarchs is past," continues Lecky ; and certainly the behef in " the absolute innocence of honest error " has hastened its departure. Be that as it may, this lay teacher went in for the entire Evangelical programme, including verbal in- spiration, an anthropomorphic deity, and a personal devil. I remember asking him, in class on Sunday, when we were reading about, and he was expounding, the temptation of Eve, what form of locomotion the serpent was in the habit of practising before the curse " on thy belly shalt thou go " — whether on his head or his tail (if a serpent can be said to have a tail) ; but he evaded the question, which is, I admit, such a 54 OMNIANA difficult one to answer, that — even now — I hesitate to put it to anybody else. But nothing, I am con- vinced, could shake this man's faith in, or veneration for, the Bible. There existed, in my young days, a large and very popular engraving which must have forcibly appealed to him. I have not seen it for years. It represented Queen Victoria presenting the sacred volume to a negro, who was receiving it with all due reverence and deference. The picture bore at foot the legend : " The Bible, the source of England's greatness "• — or words to that effect. In the opinion of my teacher all the negro had to do was to *' search the Scriptures " in order to be con- vinced, converted, and brought into line ; but looking at the matter in my old age, impartially, and without imparting super-sensitiveness to the black recipient of the book, it occurs to me that, while he might not boggle over the ethics of the Pentateuch (as being very much his own), even he would be arrested in his progress towards reformation by a passage, which I have not the temerity to give in the vulgar tongue — Et quasi subcinericium hordeaceum comedes illud : et stercore quod egreditur de homine operies illud in oculis eorum. Et dixit Dominus : Sic comedent filii Israel panem suum pollutum inter Gentes ad quas ejiciam eos. Et dixi : A. a. a. Domine Deus ecce anima mea non est polluta et morticinum et laceratum VATICAN DECREE 55 a bestiis non comedi ab infantia mea usque nunc et non est ingressa in os meum onmis caro, immunda. Et dixit ad me : Ecce dedi tibi fimum bourn pro stercoribus humanis ; et facies panem tuum in eo. One can easily understand though we may not agree with it, why the Vatican issued the decree : *' As it is manifest that if the use of the Holy writers ** is permitted, in the vulgar tongue, more evil than " profit will arise, it is, for this reason, all Bibles are *'' prohibited, whether they be printed or written, in " whatever vulgar language soever ; as also are pro- " hibited, all summaries or abridgments of Bibles, " or any books of the Holy writings. But the reading " of Bibles by Catholic editors may be permitted to " those by whose perusal or power the faith be spread, *' and who will not criticise it. This permission is not " to be granted without an express order of the Bishop " or the Inquisitor, with the advice of the curate and " confessor. And he who presumes to read the Holy " writings, or to have them in his possession, shall not " be absolved of his sins before he shall first have " returned the Bible to the Bishop." Surely, a profound sense of expediency was of the essence of this prohibition ; which did not interfere with the dogmatic propaganda of the Faith.* To return to my Sunday school instructor. As his task was voluntary, it should, I admit, have * See note, page 287. 56 OMNI ANA commanded more respect ; but we boys would rather have been in the playground ; and, inasmuch as our attendance was compulsory, his influence, as a conse- quence, was not what it might have been. Half a century or so after I had lost sight of him, I happened to go into a well-known bookshop in Grafton Street, and, lo ! to my astonishment, behind the counter I beheld the still smihng and shining face, so well remembered, of F^ — — , my quondam teacher — little altered and wonderfully preserved. Time had dealt more tenderly with him than with me. I recognised him on the instant, and introduced myself with a flattering reference to the indehble impression he made upon my youthful mind — which greatly pleased him. He has passed, long since, beyond the reach of praise or blame ; and the name of the instigator or founder of Sunday schools (which I am sorry to say I forget) is held in honour throughout the Empire. THEOLOGY is a very thorny subject to touch upon ; but is, or should be, of interest to every. body. It is, too often, made so repulsive to youth, by what may be described as " forcible feeding," that the study of it is repudiated as we advance to manhood ; and, in middle age, the system rejects what it cannot assimilate and which only conduces to moral dyspepsia. CREEDS 57 In truth the reUgious training of the great majority of boys runs pretty much on the same hues, all round. The family creed is, simply, inherited ; and in the early stages of childhood, our God is anthropomorphic. Whoever is the oracle of the nursery becomes his prototype ; and this prototype is, nearly always, the tender and loving mother, at whose knees we say our first prayers. But, as we grow, the reality fails to satisfy, when we find that our supplications for the good things of this world, which were answered by her, remain disregarded and unheard. We begin first to question, then to doubt ; and, in due course, are passed on to the public school, with its authoritative pastor and master — usually a clergyman — who meets our difficulties with a cut and dry exegesis which explains nothing ; and who endeavours to stamp out our curiosity instead of satisfying it. Our mental diet is changed from the maternal milk to scholastic pap ; and, as the boy grows, this pabulum is con- sohdated, run into the conventional moulds, and turned out for consumption. That which was plastic is made sohd ; and, when coloured and flavoured, according to the rules and requirements of the par- ticular sect or faith into which he happens to be born — Church of England, Ireland, or Rome, Presbyterian, Methodist, Unitarian, Baptist, or one of the many subdivisions of which the variety is endless — he has to be content. He reaches manhood, with the conviction forced upon him, that, to indulge in any 58 OMNIANA dogmatic rations, or spiritual viands other than those on which he has been nurtured and brought up, means ultimate disaster — and he does not risk it ; but looks on, in after hfe, with a snmg feehng of security while theologians wrangle. If, on the other hand, he enters the arena of controversy at all, he does so with the full conviction that his own behef is the only true one ; and wages war against his neigh- bours with the best intentions, but with the worse possible weapons — intolerance and coercion. It must be, I think, admitted that heredity, as apphed to creeds, has a good deal to be said in its favour ; and it is well if the religion of the parents suffices for the children : it saves a lot of trouble. Dogmatic epicures, who can't be satisfied with what has been provided for them, have fomented all the turmoil in the past ; cause it now ; and will continue to cause it in the future ; while the scientist and the evolutionist are, steadily and surely, undermining the " household of faith," which bids fair to overwhelm all the controversialists in its ruins. However, up to the present, there has been always enough of stalwart fighters ; and the battle of beliefs is incessant. But noise which is continuous and unbroken becomes akin to silence ; one grows used to it, and does not heed it any more than the din of city streets, or the cawing of a rookery. I, myself, when the final " exposition of sleep " comes upon me, shall, I trust, be deaf to the crepitude of creeds. I only hope that I GO TO ENGLAND 59 my last sleep of second childhood, in the lap of Mother Earth, may be as restful as the first sleep of infancy on the maternal breast. Meanwhile I cannot choose but follow and venerate the creed which I inherit. AD. 1850 was an epoch-making date for me. I was then in my sixteenth year ; and when I got home for my Christmas holidays in December, 1849, I found that it had been arranged, at the suggestion of my uncle, Sir Arthur Helps, that I should go to England, to him, with a view to be diagnosed as to the trend of my incUnations and capabilities, and with the ultimate intention of putting me to a profession. This was glorious news for an unfledged Irish boy, full of the joy of life, and eager to extend his knowledge of men and things. Early in May all the preliminaries of outfit were completed ; and it was settled that I should be entrusted to the care of a friend who undertook to hand me over safely to Sir Arthur's accredited representative. When the day came for departure from dear, beautiful Kerry, I felt that, next to father and mother, the person whom I should miss most was the fine old parish priest. Father Welsh ; with whom I often put in a strenuous day's coursing — a sport of which he was very fond and which meant vigorous exercise, GO OMNIANA tramping mountains, jumping rocks, fording streams, and negotiating bogs ; giving the greyhounds, as well as ourselves, enough to do, and the hare a sporting chance of escape. He was in every sense a grand old man — physically, mentally and morally, and a thorough gentleman ; beloved by his flock, and standing high in the estima- tion of all the Protestant gentry of the parish, includ- ing the members of the family of the learned Dr. Graves, Dean of the Chapel Eoyal, and afterwards Bishop of Limerick, who resided at Parknasilla; and he was moreover the original of " Father O'Flynn," rendered famous by the bishop's son, Alfred Perceval Graves, in the song with that title, always sung with such rapturous applause by Signor Foli, an Irishman, whose real name was Foley, but who changed it to suit the fashion of the time.* I recall one verse which needs no apology for intro- ducing it — " Oh ! Father O'Flynn, you've the wonderful way with you, All the old sinners are wishful to pray with you, All the young childer are wild for to play with you. You've such a way with you. Father avick ; Still for all you're so gentle a soul, Gad, you've your flock in the grandest control, Checkin' the crazy ones, Coaxin' onaisy ones, Liftin' the lazy ones on with the stick." * Another case in point which I remember was that of Signor SuUivani, professor of deportment and dancing, whose patronimic was Sullivan ; also that of the great tenor Campobello, who was a Campbell, "FATHER O'FLYNN" 61 The good Father's reply to his Diocesan who charged him with levity, was irresistible when voiced by Foh— "Is it lave gaiety All to the laity ? Cannot the clargy be Irishmen too ? " Father Welsh celebrated early Mass, on alternate Sundays, at Sneem and Tahilla ; and, returning from the latter, he passed near our entrance gate, where I invariably watched for him to pick me up, getting him to drive me to the Protestant church in Sneem — the gate of which he had to pass on the way to his presbytery. He spoke Irish fluently — ^which was necessary in a parish where not a few peasants in those days spoke no Enghsh ; and, at Petty Sessions, he frequently sat on the Bench with my uncles Bland and Hyde, not only to interpret and explain to them, but also to exhort, in the native tongue, htigants who sometimes were not averse to giving a " twist " to their evidence, and were not sufi&ciently alive to the obligations of an oath. They might lie to the magistrate ; but to forswear themselves to the parish priest was unthink- able. Generally, too, he had mastered both sides of the case before it came to be tried. He was a large- bodied, as well as a large-hearted man ; and the physical exercise which his sporting pursuits involved was necessary. I recall an amusing incident, as the result of a day's grouse shooting. He sent, next morning, a 62 OMNI AN A local " character," the village dummy, with a present of birds to Dr. Graves. The explanatory label got lost on the way to Parknasilla ; the servant could not understand the mumblings of the dummy, and Dr. Graves had ultimately to interview him. The difficulty was, to ascertain who had sent the game. Several names, were mentioned, but the dummy shook his head negatively ; when, suddenly, an inspiration seized him. Bringing his big stick, promptly, to the " present," he uttered a loud " cHck " with his tongue to signify the shot ; and, then, transferring the weapon to his left hand, with the right he solemnly made the sign of the cross upon his breast. " Oh ! to be sure ! I understand," said Dr. Graves. " Father Welsh, of course," and he sent the dummy back with a letter of thanks to the parish priest, and a Hberal gratuity for himself. But the good priest was not without his troubles — who is ? He incurred the censure of Dr. Moriarty, Bishop of Kerry, because an aged woman, a parish- ioner, died rather suddenly, without the last rites of the Church ; Father Welsh was not to be found, being out for a day's coursing. The fact came to the cars of the bishop, who was a strict disciphnarian.* When he arrived to investigate the charge, he was * It was he who uttered the terrible denunciation of the Fenians, in which he said that — " Eternity was not long enough nor Hell hot enough, for their punishment in the next world." ''FATHER O'FLYNN" 63 invited, as a matter of course, to Derriquin ; and there the priest did not lack whole-hearted testimony in his favour. But the bishop had to see that so grave a mishap should never recur, and in addition to admonishing the parish priest he " put a curate on him," as a humble parishioner phrased it, whose stipend Father Welsh had to pay ; and since then, a curate has always to be maintained at the cost of the parish priest. I must give one more reminiscence before I take leave of Father Welsh. The " old mistress " (as she was always called) of Derriquin, when her grandson entered into possession and brought home a young wife, resigned the reins of government, and came to reside at Glashnacree, where she spent her remaining years. During her last illness, Father Welsh was a frequent caller. When the end was very near, he came ; and, in answer to his inquiry, my mother expressed the belief that she was calmly and peacefully passing away. " Ah ! Is that so ? May I not see her ? " ** Indeed you may. Father Welsh. Come," and my mother led the way. The sick-room was on the ground floor. The window of it is a low casement one, and the sash on this occasion stood open. A poor peasant woman standing on the lawn outside, saw the two enter ; and saw the priest stoop, and kiss the forehead of the motionless figure on the bed. The woman outside 64 OMNIANA fell on her knees, in prayer ; and when the priest came out she rose, and eagerly accosted him, clasping her hands. *' Shure, Father, God be praised, there'll be a gap open for her in Heaven — somehow." It was more an asseveration, than a question demanding an answer ; and was left at that by him. On the day of the funeral, when the hearse arrived from Kenmare (fourteen miles away), there was a large concourse of poor people assembled. Some half-dozen men came to the hall door, to interview my father, and beg of him not to allow the coffin to be put into the hearse. They would carry it all the w^ay themselves, they said. He remonstrated. " Boys," he said (all men are called " boys " in Kerry), "it is a great weight, and the road is long " (two miles). " What mather, Mr. Tom ; shure there's plenty of us to help." He had to consent, and they carried the coffin all the way, in relays, four at a time, to the churchyard. Such a scene will not be witnessed again ; the old order changeth, giving place to new. The dear old lady hved to rock the cradle of her gi'eat-grandchild. for my first-born saw the light at Glashnacree ; she had many wonderful receipts for the cure of ailments and complaints of every description ; and for more than half a century she did all the " doctoring " among the poor, before the Dispensary Act, which LONDON 6'5 provided for resident medical men, came into being. Great modern physicians with a wealth of letters after their names may be contemptuous, and incredulous as to her skill, and the efficacy of her receipts and prescriptions ; nevertheless the fact remains that she had wonderful " cures " — among them one for scrofula or King's evil, which, in past times, restored many sufferers to perfect health. SEVERAL pages back, I stated that I was bound for England ; and then I, abruptly and un- warrantably, broke into this long digression ; but I am " at times hopelessly disposed to the circum- ambagious in my manner of narration " * — for which I fear there is no cure. Having been entrusted to the care of a reliable friend, I travelled by Cork and Bristol, on my first eventful jom^ney to London ; and was safely handed over to the care of a little man named Morgan — my uncle's man of business — on the afternoon of May the 9th, 1850. I am able to fix this date because old Mr. Morgan took me, that evening, to the Haymarket to see the Cat's Paw, by Douglas Jerrold, on the first night of its production, which was also my first night at a theatre ; but, what it was all about, I hadn't * Soutboy'ti Doctor. 66 OMNIANA the faintest idea. We sat in the middle of the pit ; and every one laughed, and clapped hands, and pounded the Hoor with walking-sticks. I was dazed and bewildered. 1 missed the mountain air of Kerry ; and the poisonous atmosphere, and the gas, and the heat, and the din stupefied me, and gave me a sphtting headache, and a thumping sensation inside my skull Avhicli was quite new to me, and the memory of which survives. However, next morning I was all right, and ready for a journey into Hampsliire. My uncle Helps '^ lived then at Vernon Hill, near Bishop's Waltham. Mr. Morgan sent his son to see me safely dehvered over to the embraces of my aunt and the no less kindly greeting of my uncle, from both of whom then and afterwards I experienced a kindness and consideration which could not be exceeded, and was out of all proportion to my deserts. It was a momentary shock to me to find my aunt a beautifully-amazing hkeness of Uncle Jack, of whom I have discoursed in previous pages. I had rather she resembled my father ; but I had no difficulty in getting over this disappointment ; and cpiite forgot it in the warmth of my reception. Both had the happy knack * (Sir Arthur Helps was the author of many books, Frkiids in Council ; Companions of my Solitude ; Social Pressure ; Animals and their Masters ; The Spanish Conquest in America ; novels, dramas, etc., etc. He was a great favourite with the Royal Tamily, and induced the Queen to permit the pubUcation of her diary — Lije in the Highlands — which he edited. He was immensely popular in social, literary, and political circles ; and I doubt if he had a single enemy. SIR AKTUl'R IIKLI'S, K.C.B. GUESTS AT VERNON HILL 67 of making me feel at home at once. My uncle's cheery greeting — " Well, boy " — with his hand upon my shoulder, and the remark, "I'm very glad old Morgan brought you here safely," emboldened an impromptu witticism, which came in the nature of an inspiration : " Not old Morgan," I rephed, " but his son — Novum {31)orgaiium, you know," which tickled my uncle hugely ; and struck me as being so clever that I made a mental note of it. It recalls now, to my recollection, a remark I came across recently, made by Tammas the stone-breaker, in one of J. M. Barrie's books : " There was ac time an' I said a terrible sarcastic thing. I dinna mind what it was, but it was muchly sarcastic," with this dilfercncc, that I didn't forget my impromptu wit. It flattered my vanity to be introduced to my uncle's guests — to whom he retailed it — as a " student of Bacon " ; and this, doubtless, helped to fix the fact in my memory. These guests were twO' — James E. Doyle and John Hullah. Doyle was an author,''' a bachelor, and an artist, son of the famous " H. B." and brother of the no less famous Richard Doyle of Punch. He had a very shiny, unhandsome, good-humoured, Irish face, and laughed silently in his stomach, which resulted in semi-convulsions about that region ; and a suffused smile all over his face, that spent itself in a breezy * He wrote Chroniclers of Eiigla)ul, B.C. 55 lo A.D. 1485 ; The Official Baroiuiijc of England, illubtralcd by his own pencil, etc., etc. 68 OMNIANA wliccze tliroLigh liis nose, ttuggestivc of letting oil" the pressure. He was a genial, lovable, learned and pious Konian Catholic, and a very great favourite at Vernon Hill. The other guest, John HuUah, was the well-known tonic-sol-fa nuisician ; an " exquisite," whose deep luminous orbs and languid movements somehow suggested the " Mild-cycd, mclauulioly Lotus calcr," very good looking, very refined, whose laughter was always restrained, quiet, and under complete control — in fact, he gave one the idea that he would rather not laugh at all if it could be avoided.''' He, too, was a great favourite with both aunt and uncle ; for they passionately loved nmsic — as, indeed, did James Doyle, who played the violoncello exceptionally well. This instrument, by-the-bye, was always spoken respectfully of as '' Mrs. Doyle,*' and always accoiu- panicd its owner to Vernon Hill. 1 had an exception- ally enjoyable time for long after my arrival. Among the early acquaintances I made there was J. W. Parker, Junior, my uncle's publisher, and Dr. Phelps,! Master of Sidney-Sussex College, Cambridge. Later acquaintances— hterary celebrities — I rele- gate to a subsequent portion of this chronicle. * Hullah composed the Village Coquelle, which Avas staged with success — the words being by Dickens. t He was a brother of the actor-manager, ISamuel Phelps of tSadlcr's Wells, whom London playgoers looked on as the leading tragedian of his day, who accepted !Sir Arthur Helps' drama of OuUla, and was to have produced it ; but his iihiess and death intervened. I TRY ENGINEERING G9 Dr. Phelps was iin old college friend of Sir Arthur, and was a first-rate water-colour artist, as well as a profound scholar ; and had, moreover, a most charm- ing personality — that special gift, which so many- pedagogues lack, of getting into sympathy with boys— which won my confidence immediately, so much so that he had no difficulty in inducing me to submit to a test examination as to my acquirements. It proved satisfactory, and the result pleased Dr. Phelps. Then it became a question of a profession — a point which he, my uncle, and myself frequently discussed before reaching a decision. I thought 1 should like mechanical engineering above all others ; so, I was taken to Southampton— an easy journey from A^ernon Hill— to see, and go through the great establishment of Summers, Day and Baldock, where all kinds of machinery were in use, engines turned out, and no end of fascinating wonders ^vere to be seen. The principal partner was the inventor of the ]iatent Summers tubular boiler ; and the manager bore the famous name of Fairburne. There was an army of mechanics employed ; and some half-dozen " gentlemen apprentices " were always on the strength ; there being a vacancy among these, I was taken on, and , in due course, entered into residence, boarding with a young Cornish chap whose name I forget. We had to dress in fustian during working ho\irs, and each apprentice was placed under a mechanic whom he had to obey. We had to turn up 70 OMNIANA at six o'clock in the morning, with the men, and were shut out, and reported, if late ; this was all a terrible *' grind " in winter, though palHated, in my case somewhat, by the old gate porter — who was an Irishman — slipping me in, often, when late. But the work gradually quenched my enthusiasm, and took the gilding off the gingerbread ; and, after less than a year's experience of it, I intimated to my uncle that I would rather try some other profession ; and, with a magnanimity which spoke well for that good nature which was one of his distinguishing characteristics, he undertook to square matters with my father ; and, pending the next step in my erratic career, I returned, nothing loath, to Vernon Hill, to vegetate, under the most agreeable circumstances, for several months. Though my stay at Southampton liad been short, I gained some practical knowledge which I found professionally useful later in life. I got also an early insight into one phase of the tender passion, which was interesting and most iniormative. My chum had been, before my advent, expending the greater part of his allowance, on the theatre — which, of course, I soon began to frequent in his company. He confided to me the secret that he was deeply in love with Miss H , the leading young lady. They had never met. He was sure she fully reciprocated his feelings ; but there was a difficulty about a meeting, as her father was a member of the company — leading old man — and she lived with him. I saw A LOVE AFFAIR 71 the pair for the first time, in Hamlet, in which they played Polonius and Opheha. I sat by my chum, who always occupied the same seat, the end one, nearest the stage at the left-hand side of the dress circle (where evening dress, fortunately for us, was not insisted on) ; and was instructed to note how the fair one's gaze was always directed towards him. There was no doubt about this ; and subsequent observation from the same position nightly, seemed to fully warrant my friend's inference. But it occurred to me, one evening, to suggest that we should try the opposite side of the dress circle. *' If her gaze follows you," I said, " it will be pretty strong evidence in your favour." " Oh, of course it will." He was confident about it. But it didn't ! Opheha's look was still to the left, except when she faced the audience — which was seldom, and then with drooping lids. He went away with me, despondent but not hopeless. " Suppose we try the front row of the pit, to- morrow night," I suggested. We did so ; still the gaze of the beloved one was to the left. But I made an important discovery, which I had to break to him after the performance. " It isn't love, my dear boy," I said, " it's a squint ! Miss H has a cast in her right eye — that's why ! " Subsequent closer observation by himself con- firmed the statement, and he was cured. The lady 72 OMNIANA never attained to fame ; but tlie old gentleman achieved notoriety some years after as a " converted player " at " revival " meetings —this I learned from a friend who was interested in my spiritual welfare, and wanted to get me to hear him. This old man's case was similar to that of an actor-contemporary, Sheridan Knowles, the famous author of those splendid and ennobling dramas Virginius, The IlnnMaclc, etc., who died a Methodist preacher lamenting having written them. One of the large contracts which the engineering firm had in hand while I was in Southampton was the fitting out of a steam yacht for the Sultan of Tui'key, who sent over a very intelligent Turk, to pick up all the necessary mechanical knowledge to enable him to take full charge of the vessel when completed. An accident happened to one of the shop mechanics, and a subscription was started in his behalf, in which I was interested. A call was made upon the foreman in charge of the worlc on the yacht, who refused to give anything, and was characterised by the collector as " a damned stingy beggar.'' The Turk took in the bearings of the situation ; and, when approached, was ready with his answer : '' Dis — von- — ^too- — dam— steengy — beggar — dam ! '' emphasising each word by a prod at his chest with his first finger. The story appeared to be worth repeating, so I took it with me to Vernon Hill as the principal asset of my stay in Southampton. ARTICLED TO AN ARCHITECT 73 AFTER tlie preliminary arrangements had been completed, I started on a new career, which it was fondly but vainly hoped would '" steady " me ; and, in due time, I found myself in London, an articled pupil in the office of Mr. P — — , architect. There was another pupil, B , and we two felt that we represented, in our persons, a section of the great unpaid, and were fully justified in looking upon the salaried assistant, who had authority over us, as a natural enemy^ — a sentimental prig who could not l^e got to look upon broad-sword exercises, with the office T squares, or rapier practice with the measuring rods, as in any way conducive to architectural know- ledge ; we consequently gave him a good deal of trouble, one way and another. My vindictiveness culminated in poetry, and I composed — as 1 thought — an extremely clever lampoon upon the long-suffering clerk. It was not my intention to hurt his feehngs by letting him see or hear it ; but merely to give vent to and satisfy my own. LTnfortunately, I forgot the MS. one evening, and left it in the unlocked drawer of my drawing desk. The " chief," after closing time, when looking ior some plan or drawing which I had in hand, found the effusion. Next morning, I was called into his private office, and confronted by the document — to which I had to own up. Mr. P was really a kind-hearted man, wishing to do right ; and he administered a well-deserved reproof, with 74 OMNIANA considerable emotion. I had no excuse, and saw no loophole of escape, till he came to the peroration on idleness, and waste of opportunity in youth ; and wound up with the assurance — as he dropped the manuscript into the fire, and pointed to the door — that " there was no ' royal road ' to success in any profession, except by labour, and hard work." This gave me an opening to retire with the honours of war. " I never understood, sir," I retorted, as I backed out, " that either labour or hard work could be considered a ' royal road.' " This was, certainly, a piece of colossal cheek ; and that Mr. P overlooked and never resented it speaks well for his amiability. Perhaps he considered that insubordination on the part of a subordinate, was something to be expected and ignored ; and he was not vindictive. Here, incidentally, 1 may remark that I did not profit, professionally, by my articles of indenture, as I might have done ; but this, beyond doubt, was less Mr. P 's fault than mine ; because his practice was varied and extensive, and presented good oppor- tunities for gaining a practical knowledge of the pro- fession. I remember one great stroke of luck which came his way, while I was in his office, and which I may as well relate before he passes out of my pages for good and all. A big competition among architects was advertised, with a premium of, as well as I remember, a hundred guineas to the winner, and the I GO ON TOUK 75 usual commission of five per cent, on the cost of the building to be erected. The plans required were for a county gaol. The result was, strange to say, that Mr. P — — w^as the only architect who responded to the invitation ; and he got the job — a very important one. The gaol was erected at Bodmin for the county of Cornwall, and from these plans. M Y literary propensity first showed itself — as I have said — in the office of Mr. P , by my poetical tirade against his head assistant. It developed rapidly ; but, instead of going into it here, I will relegate it to a section devoted to itself, in the shape of a consecutive narrative, later on ; and proceed to present another consecutive narra- tive wliich, though not altogether architectural, was supplemental to it — my theatrical experience, which was considerable, though quite fortuitous. It came about in this way — when I had concluded my articles of apprenticeship, and was entitled to call myself an architect, I determined, before I settled down to office routine, to go on a tour of inspection of the great cathedrals of England for the purpose of study, and of making measm'cd drawings and detail sketches of any features of interest. Thus it happened that, in due course, I found myself at C ; and, by 76 OMNIANA mere chance, I put up at a hostel which turned out to be one much patronised by members of the theatrical profession. Here I met Charles Calvert, then a young man full of enthusiasm, one of the staff of the Theatre Royal ; and who, many years afterwards, became a standing favourite and manager in Manchester, where he did so much to elevate the drama, and the status of the actor ; and where he achieved success not- withstanding the fact that his physique was against him, for he was, like Edmund and Charles Kean, short of stature ; but like these men he lose above his inches, and was great in such characters as Richard the Third, lago, l^ouis the Eleventh, etc. A very interesting account of his career is given in his wife's reminiscences, pubhshed in 1911 ; from which it would appear that, despite his popularit}-, he died more or less a disappointed man ; not having met with support sufficient to realise his ideals — no uncommon fate. At the time 1 met him, he was all life and energy, and love for his art. We were both young, and he infected me. As a result of my inter- course with him and the other actors, I soon got free access to the theatre — ^Ijoth before and behind the curtain ; and in a short time found myself "persona grata with the manageress and lessee, Miss S- , a buxom woman, who played leading characters, such as Lady Macbeth and Portia, with considerable power, and veiy much to the satisfaction of the playgoers of C- . A big, loud-voiced, good-natured Irishman THEATRICALS 77 named P~ — , was leading tragedian, playing such parts as Macbeth, Othello, Hamlet, Romeo, etc., while his httle, piquante, retrousse-nosed Avife played up to him as Desdemona, Ophelia, Juliet, etc. Off the stage she would fly at him in a jealous fit, which he Avould, often, purposely provoke, for mere devilment. To ward off heu blows he would hold her by the wrists, in his iron grasp, till the paroxym of rage subsided ; then, he would let her go, and laugh at her. They were devotedly attached all the same ; and each loved to hear the other praised in private, and applauded in public. I found this Bohemian society very agreeable ; and, consequently, was in no hurry to complete my pro- fessional studies at the cathedral. I Avas gradually induced by Calvert and others, to try my skill as an actor ; and, nothing loath, I did so ; and, soon acquired confidence enough to advance, from small parts, to longer and more ambitious ones. I remember performing the character of a benevolent old gentle- man, in the play of Uncle Tom's Cabin ; but I quite forget his name ; and whether he was in the original story, or was an interpolation by the playAvright, I am unable to say, as I never read Mrs. Stowe's novel. I remember also, assuming the character of Cool in London Assurance. These are the only two which, at this distance of time, 1 can recall. But my con- nexion with the Theatre Ro3^al, C , was brought unexpectedly to an abrupt termination. One fateful 78 OMNIANA afternoon, after a rehearsal, and when the members of the company had departed, I found myself in the wardrobe-room, arranging about a costume for a forthcoming play, alone with iVIiss S , who suddenly called on me to enact the part of Joseph, while she herself assumed the role of Potiphar's wife. The result was the same as that recorded in the Scriptures. I fled precipitately — leaving the lady to lock up the theatre, it was plain that, under the circumstances, there was nothing for it but to make myself scarce, and the sooner the better ; for, not only was I, at the time, over head and cars in love, but actually engaged to a httle lady in her teens who subsequently proved the most devoted wife and mother, and who, if she knew that I was now introducing her into this narra- tive, would go for me, and delete the whole passage. " For yet," as Eichard Jeff cries charmingly expresses it, '' the honeymoon bouquet remains in the wine of hfe," — to which exposiue to the atmosphere of pub- hcity is more or less inimical. I felt it to be extremely hkely — nay certain — that Miss S 's resentment would assume a bitterly vindictive aspect. It is not in female human nature to overlook such a repulse. Cum siimulos odio fifdor admovet. I could not bring myself to confide the reason for my abrupt departure, to anybody — not even to Calvert ; but as P and his wife were going to S , on a starring tour, 1 elected to go with them, in THEATRICALS 79 order to pursue my professional studies there — it being another well-known cathedral town. I never saw my friend Calvert again. Shortly after arrival at S , Romeo and Juliet was billed ; and, under pressure I undertook the unpopular and always im- patiently tolerated part of Paris. In the fierce en- counter with Romeo, my rapier, yielding to a vigorous stroke from my strenuous adversary, suddenly broke off, leaving the liilt in my grasp, while the blade flew across the stage, laying me open to the fatal assault. Romeo ran me through in the most approved fashion ; and the audience attributing an accident to a bit of well-managed stage effect, applauded vigorously, making the death scene which usually falls rather flat — a pronounced success. Another incident connected with my experiences at the Theatre Royal, S' , I may record. In a sensational drama, the title of which I forget, 1 had to cross a foaming torrent, over a very rickety rustic bridge, to rescue from marauders of some sort, a fatherless infant, and restore it to the arms of a charming but frantic mother. She received it rap- turously, exclaiming : '* Oh ! my babe ! my babe ! " and I could not help, at the moment, thinking, amid rounds of applause, on what a trivial issue success depended — a single letter, in fact. If her apostrophe had been to her " baby " instead of " babe," the result would have been bathos instead of pathos — also the difference of only a letter ! 80 OiMNlANA Under the cloak of fiction 1 have, in my first novel, Cidmshire Folk, gone more into detail with regard to my theatrical experiences ; but, I dare say, the reader will be satisfied with what I have given him in these pages, and will not trouble himself to look up that rare and noAv forgotten volume, which first appeared as far back as 1873. THE drajua did not seriously interfere with my professional studies " on torn','' which 1 pursued with assiduity till my funds ran short, and 1 had to return to London, to seek employment as assistant in some architect's office. It was hard to obtain a permanent " sit," with anything like a decent salary. The profession was overstocked then, as now ; and the Builder and Building News, every week, teemed with advertisements from men on a like quest as myself, who undertook to do everything at from thirty shilhngs to two pounds a week ; and, not infrequently, at even twenty shillings. Thus it came to pass that I Icnocked about a good deal, for a time, before setthng down ; and had a varied experience of architects. Among those whom I may mention with special regard, as gentlemen in every sense of the ^^•ord, ^Ncrc Horace Jones, architect to the City of OFFICE WORK 81 London ; Professor Thomas Roger Smith (in whose office, by-the-bye, worked also Thomas Hardy) ; Burgess — a crank, but a genius, and a really good fellow ; and last, but not least, Alfred Waterhouse, for whom I came to entertain a strong personal regard. He was a man somewhat younger than myself, and had recently set up in Manchester. Our acquaintance began through an advertisement of mine, which was worded somewhat thus : "To architects. Advertiser seeks an appointment as an assistant." This was rephed to by him, and I went to the North forthwith. On asking him why he selected me out of such a number, he replied that my advertisement was the only modest and the least pretentious one of the lot — and that was his reason. I said I thouglit it well to let him know, at the outset, that his conclusion was wide of the mark, and that I had an extremely good opinion of myself. He laughed, and said, " Well, we'll soon see if you are justified." Work began at high pressure in his office ; and we were engaged, for a considerable time, on a big com- petition which meant fame and success and profit to the winner. The buildinjj; was to be a new Assize Courts for the City of Manchester. The fight between the men of the old " Classic " school of architects, and the " Gothic " young bloods, between the Insti- tute and the Architectural Association, was then at its height. It was roundly asserted by the former, that Gothic could not be satisfactorily adapted to, or be G 82 OMNIANA dignified enough, for the requirements of such a structure. Excitement ran high. iVt last the com- petition was decided in favour of Waterhouse's design ; and his triumph was complete when Ruskin stamped the building with his approval. The work involved a protracted stay with Waterhouse, in the preparation of the working drawings ; and our relations were alw^ays the most cordial. I have still in my possession a presentation copy, from him, of Mrs. Browning's poems in three volumes, which he gave me at parting. We corresponded from time to time in after years, till he killed himself (as I beheve) by over- work ; and it was he who proposed me, seconded by Thomas Roger Smith, for a Fellowship of the Institute in 1872, without my going through the preliminary stage of Associate. While I was w^ith him my mihtary ardour, which had lain dormant since my schooldays, broke out afresh ; and, as this fact opens up an interesting phase of my career, I may be pardoned if I go a little into detail in order to explain the genesis of this reawakened enthusiasm. My predilections were always for a mihtary hfe : and, if I could have gratified them, I should certainly have been a soldier. But commissions, in my early days, were only to be obtained by purchase at a very big cash figure, and backed by influence in high places. Even if both had been available, I was an only son ; and my mother would have exercised her veto to a certainty. CAPTAIN BLAND 83 WHILE I was at school, in Dublin, my cousin's regiment, the 57th, was at one time quar- tered in Beggars' Bush Barracks. There was a review, in the Phoenix Park, on the Queen's birthday. We boys, under the care of one of the masters, went to it. Returning with his company, Jim recognised me just outside the Park gates. With the permission of the master, I was at his side in a moment — the proudest lad in Dublin. It was a stiff march of over two miles, but I got through the ordeal creditably, though the day was blazing hot ; and when the men were dismissed in the barrack square, I spent a happy and highly elated hour, with Jim, in his quarters ; getting back to school many inches taller, in my own estimation, than the circumstances warranted. The regiment went afterwards to Ceylon, and subsequently his Company volunteered for the Crimea. I never saw him again : he fell in the terrible battle of Inkerman. In a book published in 1855, entitled The Heroes of the Crimea, there was a notice of him, from which I make a few extracts. " There were but 170 of the 57th in this huge encounter of Russian masses against this British unit. ... He (Bland) commanded the company. . . . Only sixty survived to tell his deeds. Good ! Say what he did, and you tell your own fame. ' Like an avenging angel,' says a brother officer, ' he dealt death to every Russian within sweep of his weapon. How he escaped so 84 OMNIANA long I know not. They appeared to me to liave marked him for their vengeance. He sent some ten fellows to their acconnt, within thirty yards ol' where I was keeping my men on the defensive. He had only 170 on the field ; but they did the work of ten times their number. . . . Poor Bland, he had three terrible wounds in the head, either of which was more than sufficient to kill him. He died after a splendid display of gallantry.' Ireland may well be proud of him as well as of her other heroes." Poor chap— he was only twenty-seven when he fell — emphasising by his valour the proud sobriquet of his regiment, the " Die-hards." I was, as I said, in Manchester, in the office of Alfred Waterhouse, when the Volunteer movement suddenly sprang up, and spread with amazing rapidity. In an article written by a foreign mihtary expert the invasion of England was seriously suggested, and the means of successfully effecting a landing discussed. It is impossible at this distance of time, to reahse the intense state of excitement caused by the threat of this great invasion. The country was thoroughly roused, and alarmed ; and in an incredibly short space of time, a Citizen Army became an accomplished fact ; the utmost enthusiasm prevailed, and, not- withstanding that the Government, for a long time, gave no assistance, and the men had to find them- selves in uniforms and arms, the movement did not flag ; those who coidd not afford to pay were helped VOLUNTEER MOVEMENT 85 by those who could ; subscriptions poured in ; regimental depots were estabhshed ; every town had its corps ; and every village furnished its quota. The officers were chosen by the men themselves ; and persons of influence, and of means, were selected ; a warhke spirit was abroad ; and drilling in the evenings followed the day's regular work ; the Saturday half- holiday was estabhshed ; professional men, business men, tradesmen, clerks, mechanics, working men — all met and fraternised. Saturday afternoons were generally devoted to field exercises ; and training in the open, under quahfied adjutants and non- commissioned officers of the regular army, was the order of the day. Manchester was well to the front, from the first, notwithstanding the violent and in- temperate abuse of the movement by a young Baptist minister, named Arthur Mursell, who, Sunday after Sunday, dehvered himself of a denunciatory discourse in the Free Trade Hall, which was printed and circu- lated on Monday, and sold at a penny. Pamphlets in reply appeared before the following Saturday, and the sale of both pamphlets was enormous from week to week. Meanwhile the first Manchester regiment was quickly formed. At this juncture I issued an advertisement, in the local papers, calhng on my countrymen in the city, to form an Irish contingent ; giving my name and address, as " self-constituted secretary fw temS' The response was prompt. Names came in with a 80 OMNIANA rush ; and, litaving secured the co-operation of a compatriot of good position — the senior partner in the well-known firm of Porteous and Paul, things began to hum ; and the Irish contingent ultimately developed into the second Manchester regiment. Of course I was mixed up with the Avar of words, and wrote two of the rejoinders to the Rev. Mr. Mursell. A few years ago, I endeavoured, by advertising locally, to obtain copies of my penny productions, but only succeeded in getting one, entitled Mursell from an Irish Point of View, for which I had to pay the advanced price of two and sixpence ; the other, Who'll tread on the Tail of my Coat ? I failed to obtain. I remember that an Alderman Heywood, who was a bookseller and printer, and pubhshed many of the rejoinder penny pamphlets for the Volunteers, was so pleased with the sale of mine that he gave me an order for three pounds' w^orth of books from his stock. "^^ * While writing the above, it struck me that possibly Mr. Mursell might be still alive. On inquiry I found he was, and I got into cor- respondence with him in April, 1914, when he was eightj-two. His first letter in reply to mine ran as follows : — Deab Mr. Fuller, Your olive branch is most magnanimous. People who say uncivil things to or about one another seldom bear any malice. I remember the little freshet on the current of my life which my crude and impetuous allusions evoked. To show you how time has con- verted me. I was lunchmg with Sir E. Carson and other leaders a month ago, and told him that if he wanted an ardent yoiDig recruit to light or fall for Ulster, he aiight enlist me without the King's shilling. tSo you sec I have joined the Volimteer movement that 1 once derided. I JOIN THE "LONDON IRISH" 87 As in the Lacedemonian army all were captains, so in the A^'olimteers there were no social or class distinctions ; or, rather, they existed but didn't count. Of course, having been the organiser of the Irish contingent, there was a strongly expressed wisli that 1 should accept a commission ; but I resolutely declined, for two reasons — that it would involve extra expense, and that I was only a bird of passage and might leave at any moment. I do not, at this distance of time, remember how long I remained in Manchester, but my next move was to Sheffield, and into the office of Mr. Hadfield, who had just dissolved partnership with Mr. Goldie ; and here I found the Hallamshire Volunteer corps in full swing. Of course I joined it, which meant an entirely new rig-out, as the uniform was quite different. After a pretty long term with Mr. Hadfield, I went back again to London, and immediately joined the London Irish regiment, and had to invest in a third uniform. Being, by this time, very well up in drill, I was " read out " for a sergeant's stripes, which I did not keep the pamplets more than a few yeara, and they have passed, as Tyndal said, years ago at Belfast, " into the infinite azure of the past." I thank you for your kind letter and am, Yours very truly, Arthur Mursell. I'm sorry to say he died a few months after, leavmg behind him an interesting book, Memoriefi of iiti/ Life, published by Hodder & btoughton. 88 OMNIANA meant that 1 had to take my part in instructing lecruits. Our Colonel was that grand old man, the Marquess ol" Donegal. We were a vcr}' popular corps in London ; and, our turn out, and fiiie band playing stirring Irish tunes, always drew a big crowd. I speak of all this now, in the past tense, as I have been lor many years practically a stranger to the big city. 1 remember that the great event connected with the organisation, was the review by Queen Victoria, in Hyde Park, in June, 1860, Avhen Volunteer regiments from all parts of England and Scotland were present. Wc had a strenuous day's work ; but the occasion was a memorable one, of which the nation had reason to be, and was, proud. It was a practical answer to the threat of invasion, at all events. The review was on a Saturday ; and, according to the Times of the following Monday, the units which were singled out. and received with the greatest enthusiasm, by the enormous concourse of people, were Lord Elcho's Highlanders, the London Irish (my corps), the Inns of Court (the " Devil's Own "), and the Robin Hoods. The Irish were in the second brigad<\ The day passed oft" without any serious accident. The Duke of Newcastle and Lord Otho Fitzgerald were unhorsed, but escaped unhurt. And now, while on the subject of militancy, I may as well continue my experiences, quite irrespective of chronological order — Avhich I have not hitherto observed, for llic very good reason that I never kept GARIBALDI 89 any notes or any record of dates, the idea never entering my head, that I should ever sit down to chronicle my experiences. It was early borne in upon me that I did not like office routine, and the want of personal freedom which it involved ; nor did I like temporary employment, at a salary which could not be called a living wage. It happened that I was working in a city office for a little man named D , whom I and his other two assistants detested,* at the time when the Garibaldi excitement was at its height, and his exploits were finding ample pictorial recognition in the pages of the Illustrated London News (which then held the field as a sixpenny paper, and had not to contend with a host of weekly rivals at the same price — to say nothing of halfpenny daily ones). At this juncture, an advertisement appeared calling for young men willing to enroll themselves in the formation of a British legion for active service under Garibaldi. The preliminaries were being arranged by an officer of the regular army who was ultimately to take over command. The response was all that could be desired : everything went on swimmingly. Each man was to bear his own expenses of equipment ; but the uniform was inexpensive, mainly consisting of a red flannel shirt and cap to match. Of course, I was one of the first on the roster ; and we were all in high * He died last year — 1915 — aged eight y-LMght. Peace iv his ashes. 90 OMNIANA spirits. The officer who was at the head of the movement was, as well as I remember, a Captain Gildea. Probably a member of that fine old family of soldiers, Gildea of Clooncormack, Co. Mayo. There was a certain amount of inystery about our proceed- ings, which added zest to the other attractions ; but, alas ! the bright prospect was suddenly overcast, and our hopes bhghted l)y a proclamation issued by the Government — I forget who was Prime Minister — forbidding the formation of the corps, and an intima- tion from the War Office that our gallant Captain would be cashiered, or court-martialled , or both, if he persisted in his intention ; and thus our chances of active service were shattered. However, this damper did not quench my ardour ; it smouldered for a time, and then broke out again, with extraordinary results, which were destined to form an epoch in my variegated career. A " brother chip " had gone into the Koyal Engineers, and fallen on his feet, for he was appointed to the Ordnance Survey, and was having a high old time of it. If he, why not I ? I resolved, one day, to follow his example and — made a disastrous mistake, as I discovered when too late. I enlisted, and was immediately ordered to headquarters at Chatham, where I blossomed into a full-blown " sapper," to some pur- pose ; for my experience of a few months in the ranks was destined to bear fruit in a way that the authorities little expected, and which they found, to say the MY FIEST BOOK 91 least of it, extremely unpleasant. I was " out " for vengeance ! I had been tricked into the belief, when I joined, that I should be appointed on the Ordnance Survey Staff, whereas I found myself a mere ordinary recruit. To regain my freedom I had to lodge twenty-five pounds. I dipped my pen in gall, and " went " for the authorities ; thereby scoring my first Hterary success. My article entitled Army Misrule, hij a common soldier, appeared in a then new magazine, entitled the Constitutional Press — a high Tory organ estabhshed to smash the Whigs, and pubhshed by Saunders, Otley and Co. It was short Hved, but it lived long enough to suit my purpose ; and it paid me liberally, which was a secondary, but not unimportant, con- sideration. I followed the article up, and then pub- lished the whole in book form. The disclosures caused a big sensation, as they were startling, and quite new to the civilian. The mihtary authorities tried to discredit me by means of letters in the Service papers, which insinuated that the author was not a soldier ; but Sir W. H. Russell, the famous war correspondent of the Times, came to the rescue, and insisted that there was no doubt as to the truth of the statements, and the bona fides of the author. I had said that I '' belonged to the first corps in the Service " ; and this was interpreted to mean the Guards, whereas I meant the Royal Engineers : this obscured the scent somewhat at the start, and 92 OMNJANA frustrated efforts to liiid lue. Doubtless, if my identity liiid been establislied, things would have been made hot for me, and I might not have got my discharge. Once free there was nothing to fear ; and I followed the book up afterwards by articles in the Fortnightl/j Review. Signed papers were the rule in that peri- odical ; but, in my case, the rule was dispensed with, for obvious reasons, as explained in an editorial note. A second edition was brought out by Chapman and Hall (the publishers of the Forinlghtly) in 1867. It would not do to inflict long extracts from an obsolete book upon a modern reader ; * but I cannot refrain from one quotation which was meant to be humorous, and was fastened on, by a critic of a matter-of-fact temperament, to discredit my statements generally — " A certain man enlisted into the British " Army, and began to complain on one and the " same day ; he remained in it for many years, " because he couldn't get out of it, and never " ceased making complaints the while. At last " the complainant fell ill of a complaint ; and on " liis death-bed, he wrote to the Horse Guards '" stating that his complaint had been wTongly " treated by the Sergeant-Poultice-Major of his " regiment. This document the Horse Guards " sent back to the complainant, requiring him * All tlic abuses which I tlicn censured have, long yinoe, been swept awa}'. AN IMAGINARY CASE 93 ' to sign and fill up another document (therewith ■ sent) to the effect that he was the sendei- of the first. This was done by the complainant, who complained of having to do it. In due course the Horse Guards sent another document to say that his complaint ' was lodged in the proper quarter ' (meaning the official one). While it was lodged there, and while some one was seeing about it, and round it, and to it, the complainant died, and was buried. In twelve months or so, another document was sent after him to give notice that he was to hold himself in readiness to appear before a regimental medical committee, which was to sit upon the Sergeant-Poultice-Major, and the Lance-Bandage-Corporal immediately. This document went to a man of the same name in Corfu ; who returned to England in another twelve months, and was tried, and punished for doing so under false pretences. The special committee (which is paid for its trouble of course) is still sitting, only waiting for the right man, in order to settle the matter ; and to reprimand the guilty officials, who, meanwhile, hold their own — pending judgment." Obviously, I intended this as a hit at routine and red tape. That I did not exaggerate overmuch, is proved by the following extract from the mihtary 94 OMNIANA intelligence of a London daily paper, which unfortu- nately did not appear till some years after the book. '*' Last week we heard of a Marine who was ' reported as killed at Tel-el-Kebir, turning up ' at Chatham and having some difficulty in persuading the authorities that he was not dead. A far stranger story comes from Man- chester. When the South Lancashire Regiment was lying in Limerick a man deserted, and one died on the same day. By some strange jumble the name of the dead man had ' deserted ' marked against it, while the real deceased was buried in the name of the deserter. Within the past few days the recorded dead man has surrendered at Manchester, and is anxious to be sent back to his corps to be dealt with according to law for having improperly left his regiment. No doubt this man can be easily identified and tried ; but what about the poor fellow who has been interred in the wrong name ? " And recently, since I began to write (1915), I have come across the following, which is up to date at all events : — " Corporal Wilson, of the Highland Light '* Infantry, and Private Hadley, of the 2nd DEAD OR ALIVE? 95 ' Worcestershire Regiment, were investigating ' the German hnes near Ypres when they saw a ' German Maxim gun, and decided to captm:e it. ' They killed half a dozen Germans, and, in the ' face of heavy fire, took the gun. Wilson was ' awarded the V.C, but Hadley, by an error, ' was reported as killed. On the day after his ' exploit he was, in fact, wounded. He was sent ' to hospital, and afterwards was invalided home ' to Halesowen. But, having been reported ' dead, he had ceased, officially, to exist. His pay ' was stopped, and in reply to his repeated ' applications for it, he was told that Private ' Hadley had been killed in action. Then the ' unfortunate fellow took laborious steps to establish his existence and his identity. The local headquarters, his former employer, and other acquaintances, confirmed the fact of his being alive, and the War Office at last yielded to these juultiplied proofs. It has instructed him to rejoin his regiment —and, presumably, has given him his arrears of pay." It is to be hoped that he will also get his V.C. The Constitutional Press, in which Army Misrule first appeared, was edited by a young man named Arthur Robins, a pronounced Tory and High Church- man, with all the enthusiasm of youth, the courage of his convictions, and a remarkably fine physique. or, OMNIANA 1I<' liatl written a novel entitled Miriam May (his fii'st ])ook ; which met with antagonism from Mndie, and in consequence, went into several editions) ; lie wrote also Crisfin Ken, and subsequently, in 1864, Black Moss. In these books, he aired his anti- evangelical opinions, and also gave vigorous expression to them in the magazine. I wrote several articles for it, besides the army ones, for which I was liberally paid. It was his intention to go into the Church ; and shortly after I made his acquaintance, he gave up the editorship, and went to Oxford. He was the son of that most renowned of auctioneers, George Robins, whose powers of per- suasion were such that he could induce the most reluctant of misers to open his purse, and purchase what he didn't want. We drifted apart, and I lost sight of him for half a century, till, one day, I came across a newspaper paragraph which stated that " the Rev. Arthur Robins, rector of Holy Trinity, Windsor, was seriously ill." My interest revived on the instant, and I sat down and wrote to him, recalhng old times and hoping for his speedy recovery. The letter must have reached him on the day he died — which was a sad shock and disappointment to me. An obituary notice stated that he was familiarly known as " the soldier's Bishop,"' by whom he was greatly beloved. It went on to say that he had made many bitter enemies among the civic authorities of the Royal borough, REV. ARTHUR ROBINS 97 through denouncing the skims, and shim owners, who managed to render him unpopular, by stating that he wanted to evict the poor, in order to put up expensive houses at high rents. The crusade against him produced serious riots ; and he was even burned in effigy. But he Hved down all ill-feeling. The Queen valued him highly, and appointed him her chaplain — a post which he held for twenty-three years till his death. His influence with soldiers was as great as his popularity among them ; and I wondered, as I read about him, whether his interest in the army was not first awakened by my articles in his magazine. I remember his telling that, when his father lived at Park Crescent, at the top of Portland Place, he used to play as a boy, in the Gardens attached, with Baron Alderson's little son and daughter (she afterwards became Lady Salisbury). One day he held the reins while they were the horses ; and using the whip rather too freely on young Alderson, the boy turned on him, and said, '' You mustn't do that ! I'll tell father, and you know he is a judge, and can send you to gaol." Another good story was this. Saunders, Otley & Co., had not too fair a name for liberality (what publishers ever had ?). One day an irate author, who considered that he had been badly treated, called at Conduit Street, and insisted on seeing one of the principals. Hew as shown in to Robins. After 98 OMNIANA dilating on his grievances, and obtaining no redress, the angry man turned on his heel, saying, as he departed — " Sir, if you are Saunders, then damn Otley ; if you are Otley, then damn Saunders ; but if you are the Company, then you are welcome to the double reversion ! " I reproduce a portrait of Robins taken from a photo by W. and A. H. Fry, of Brighton, which will, I hope, have some interest for my readers, and has much for my sell, I learned, recently, that a very good cartoon of him appeared in Vanity Fair in 1897. LET me break in here with what may be called an episode and interlude combined, fitting in as to time. I stated at page 34, that I discarded, in early life, any predilection I may have entertained for horseflesh ; but, in London, about this period, a fortuitous half-crown might have led on to disastrous results, had not a racing incident followed with a counteracting tendency. I give the facts and leave the moral to be drawn by would-be " plungers." A friend, whom I will call Robinson, insisted on my breaking the pledge, which I had inwardly recorded, against betting, and he peremptorily demanded two- and-six as a contribution to a " sweep-stake," which Photo: Fry, BriyMon. TJIK KK\. AliTHUR KOBINS. I GO TO THE ST. LEGER 99 resulted in my raking in sixteen pounds odd. This was a strong incentive to future " flutters." But, soon after, Robinson, who was not by any means a sporting man, but enjoyed going to races, induced me to take a trip to the St. Leger under his guidance. This resulted in an experience which I have not forgotten, and by which I profited considerably — though not in a pecuniary sense. We were young — at least comparatively so — when he and I took that holiday together. Doncaster is a matchless, an ideal race-course : you can see everything from start to finish ; and, given fine weather and good spirits, you are bound to enjoy yourself. What with the novelty of the scene, the excitement of the " events," and the fascinating beauty of the ladies, small wonder if I was on the best of terms with myself and my surroundings. It was my first experience of a race-course, and I " took stock " of everything and everybody. We sat in the midst of a vast crowd of men and women, tense and quivering, swaying to and fro, intent, watchful, noisy, and good-humoured. One man alone, seated between me and Robinson, seemed unmoved, old, staid, grey-haired and respect- able, in a spotless frock-coat and a top-hat. He interested me — looking, as he did, so unemotional and out of place in the midst of such a seething crowd of highly strung humanity. Soon after the first race was over a good-looking 100 OMNIANA young fellow, equally well dressed, rushed up to hiin in a feverishly excited state. " Here, uncle," he said, handing the old gentleman what appeared to be a bundle of bank notes. " Good luck to start with, anyhow. I'm off again ; " and with a pleasant smile, he went. The old gentleman opened the parcel carefully, fingered some of the notes, unbuttoned his frock-coat, and deposited them safely in an inner breast-pocket ; at the same time heaving a profound sigh which seemed drawn from the depths of despair. This struck me as odd, not to say incongruous ; as one would have thought he would have rejoiced at his nephew's good fortune. I wondered and was interested ; and my interest grew to fever heat when the young man returned a second and a third time, to repeat the process of handing over winnings, which merely served to draw from the breast of this confiding uncle, sigh after sigh — each, if possible, more profoundly sad than the one which went before it. I felt that I must address this sorrowful old man ; penetrate the mystery ; give him my sympathy, or — burst. I looked for help from Robinson ; but he had a vacuous grin on his expansive countenance, which disgusted me, it indicated such a want of feeling. " Your nephew is a fortunate chap, sir," 1 re- marked, tentatively. " Ah ! you think so ? " he replied, with a mournful expression and another sigh. A NICE OLD (jENTLEMAX lui Why, yes, naturally. I am sorry to sec that you take so little interest in his success."' " So little interest," he rephed ; "on the contrary, I take so great an interest in him, my friend (if I may call you so), that I look with profound sorrow and apprehension at this very success. His luck is always extraordinary in racing matters. I tremble as I see it, and wish it were otherwise.'' ' ' You would like him to lose ? That seems strange, sir. By Jove ! I confess I'd like to win and sec all my friends and relatives do the same." " Ah ! " he said, repeating the sigh, " you gamble and bet ? " " No, sir, I don't ; but, if 1 did, 1 confess 1 should not like to lose." Then, calmly, and with apparently suppressed emotion, he there and then, took me into his con- fidence. Robinson grinned as the conversation pro- gressed, but said nothing. The old gentleman was, according to his own statement, extremely wealthy. This young man was to be his heir, and was the apple of his eye. Unfortunately the nephew inherited from his father (who ruined himself on the turf) an insatiable lust for betting on liorses, and this was his only vice. " He does not care for the money, as you see ; he hands it all over to me. He does not need it. I don't stint him, and he can always command un- limited cash, when he wants it. The only hold I have on him is b}^ falling m an ith this Ijctting weakness 102 OMNI ANA of his, in the hope that I may gradually influence hini for the better, and wean him from this one vice — for he has, as I have already said, no other. If I were to lose touch with him or become apparently un- sympathetic, he might go headlong to perdition. My only chance of effecting a cure is to seem interested in what is merely a source of anmsement to him. In time, I may hope to. But, hush ! not a word. Here he comes again. " Well, George ! What — more winnings- — more luck ? " " Seems so, uncle. Not much this time, though. Here you are — ten fivers." The old gentleman put them away with the rest, remarking as he did so : " My friend on the right, George, has been discussing your phenomenal success." " Yes, I don't know how you manage it," I said, addressing the nephew, " some good angel "' " Oh, angels have got nothing to do with it, I assure you," he laughed ; " there's really no secret about it. You have only got to choose your company, and get in with straight, honest men of the right sort, and stick to them. Don't go running after tips from strangers, because if '' I took him up short. '" Well," I said, " 1 should not mind taking a tip from you, though you are a stranger. I'm not a sporting man, but FU trust you straight off the reel with a tenner, if youll put it on for me. I'll even leave the selection to yourself." 1 AM VICTIMISED 103 George displayed what appeared to me a becoming hesitation at fust, but relented, on a word from his relative. " Well, if he is a friend of yours, uncle, that's enough ; though, as you know, I don't, on principle, Hke to risk other people's money. However, if you wish, sir," turning to me, " well and good." So saying, he vanished, and the fate of my ten-pound note was in his hands. The benevolent old gentleman sighed again, as he settled himself in his seat ; and Robinson's grin seemed to spread all over his face as he adjusted his glass to watch the race. I let him grin — what did it matter to me ? If he hked to look silly it was none of my business. It was wonderful what increased interest that particular race had for me with my ten- pound stake depending on it. I thought it would never end, but it did. I was all expectation, watching for George. The old gent sighed again, but I hardly heeded him as his nephew approached — crestfallen and disappointed. There were no notes to be handed over this time. " I am extremely sorry, sir," said the young man, turning to me, " that I was induced to risk your money. It has broken my luck, and we are both at a loss." Here Kobinson, rubbing his hands together cheer- fully, interjected his only remark : " Try another tenner ? " " No ! no ! " said the old gentleman, starting lul OMNI ANA excitctlly to his feet, and gesticulating with botli hands. " 1 protest. I won't have it, George ; this young gentleman is a stranger to me. I can't let hill) incm- any more risk ; and, if you take my advice," turning to Eobinson, " you'll take the hint and do nothing on your own account either.'' " All right, governor ! " responded Kobinson, with a wink on top of the smile, ''I'll take him home to his mother." The old gentleman rose, with dignity ; and, ignoring Robinson, walked sadly away. Both he and the nephew shook hands warmly with me again, expressing regret at my ill-luck. *' You're an awfully bad-mannered chap, to say the least of it," I remarked, " positively vulgar some- times," 1 turned to confront and confound Robinson. There he stood with, if possible, a broader grin than ever on his face. In fact he was laughing all over — (juivering with suppressed merriment. " Well ! " he said. " AVhy, you silly ass, that old beggar and his nephew are a regular plant. I've seen 'em often enough. The only notes that ain't dummies are the ones they rake in from flats hke you ! He spotted you at once." Since that time I have never been to a race- course, but I have devoted any spare time to literature. DR. THOMAS FULLER iU5 1WAS always an omnivorous reader, and the bio- graphies of great nien^ — real actors in the drama of life — had ever a special attraction for me. My evenings in what I may call the intermediate stages of my unsettled career, 1 had very much at my own disposal, and devoted them to study. Wherever I made temporary stay, there were almost certain to be found public hbraries ; and, in addition to de- sultory and varied reading, I was always on the look- out for genealogical information re Fullers ; and, naturally, with such a strong predilection for family history and pedigree, my heart warmed to the most illustrious of my race — that " stout old Church and King man," Dr. Thomas Fuller, author of the Church History, the British Worthies, and a host of theological works ; whose " golden books," says Charles Lamb, " I part from bleeding " ; and of whom Coleridge says, " next to Shakespeare, I am not certain whether he, beyond all other writers, does not excite in me the sense of the marvellous. He was incomparably the most sensible, the least prejudiced great man of an age that boasted a galaxy of great men. Shakespeare, Milton, Fuller, De Foe, Hogarth— they were wiiques. I do not say that, Avith the exception of the first, names of equal glory may not be produced, in a different hind ; but these are genera, containing, each, only one individual." The biographer of Southey tells us that Fuller " was the poet's favourite author." lOG OMNIANA The compiliilioji of his two principal works, which I have named, must have entailed an enormous amount of labour and research, which, nevertheless, did not interfere with his strenuous life as chaplain to the King during the Civil War, or his output of books. To obtain a complete set of these was no easy task, as several are very rare ; and, two of them I am still in search of. From a little anonymous Life pubhshed in 1661 (the year of his death), a copy of which is in the British Museum, I quote the following quaint description, w^hich agrees well with the portrait repro- duced from the original in the possession of Lord Fitz Hardinge at Cranford House. " He was of Stature " somewhat Tall, with a proportionate Bigness, but " no way inclining to Corpulency : of an exact " Straightness of the whole Body, and a perfect " Symmetry : of a Sanguine Constitution which " Beautified his Face with a pleasant Ruddiness ; " but of a Grave and Serious aspect. His Head " adorned with a comely Light Coloured Hare, which " was, by Nature, exactly Curled, but not suffered to " overgroAV to any length unseeming his Modesty " and Proportion. His Gate and Walking was very " upright and graceful, becoming his well-shapen " Bulke ; approaching something near to what we " term Majestical." Genial and good-hearted soul as he was, he could hardly escape enmity. Dr. Saltmarsh abused him, and that bitter Higli Church wasp, Dr. Peter Heylin, DR. THOMAS FULLER. (From a portiiiit in the possession of Lord ritz-Ilardinge.) DR. PETER HEYLIN 107 attacked his Church History furiously and vindictively. Fuller, in his Appeal of Injured Innoceyice, replied calmly, exhaustively, and triumphantly ; and, having vanquished his enemy, wrote a long and touching letter to Heyhn, from the close of which I cannot resist making a short extract : " You know full well, sir, in heraldry two lioncels rampant endorsed,* are said to be the emblems of two valhant men meeting in the field, but forbidden to fight, or departing on terms of equality agreed on between themselves. \Vhereupon, turning back to back, neither con- querors nor conquered, they depart the field their several ways (their stout stomachs not suffering them to go the same way) least it be accounted an injury one to precede the other. In like manner I know you disdain to allow me your equal in this controversy ; and I will not allow you my superior. Let it be a drawn battle. Thus parting and going out back to back here, I hope we shall meet in heaven face to face hereafter. Who knoweth but that God, in his providence permitted, yea ordered this difference betwixt us not only to occasion a reconsideration but to consolidate a friendship, during our lives, and that the survivor (in God's pleasure only to appoint) may make favourable mention of him who goeth first to his grave." " I do not recollect," says Nichols, " to have read a "letter in any language equal to this, the composition * He was an enthusiastic herald and genealogist. 108 OxMNlANA " oi ail. old wiinior who, Iccling that lie Lad obtained *' a well-contested victory, could aftoid to be generous. ■■ The line Christian spirit which breathes through '' the whole of this elegant epistle — at once manly *' and tender — disaimed tlie wrath of Heyhn " ; but I am not awaje that he, who survived Fuller but a year, ever comphed with the request. We may hope that it was fully his intention to render due honour to the deceased. iMiller's wife, the Hon. Mary Koper, daughter of Lord Baltinglass,''' A\as tlie sister of Jjady Denny of Tralee Castle, Co. Kerry, which brought him into close touch with my native county. She was a grand- daughter of James Pilkington, Bishop of Durham, who had the temerity to fight with Queen Ehzabeth, and was by her deprived of £1000 a year, ^vhich she * Instances of two children bearing tlie saiiie Christian name- -by the same ])arents — and living at the same time, are not unfrequently found in old-time records, and this name of Roper furnishes an illustra- tion. William Nott, whose will is dated 1575, had two daughters named Elizabeth. One married twice (see Planning and Bray, vol. ii, p. 790), and the other married llobert Rojier (see Herald and Genealogist, vol. viii, p. 206), who was of the same family as Mrs. Fuller. An instance I have met with recently was the case tried in Court of Arches, Doctor's Commons, dated May 20th, 1874 : Thomas Adams '■ brother and sole executor uf Thomas Adams, deceased." Another, was that of the Fanes. Cieorge Fane of Biadsel, Esq., High Shcritl' of Kent, in the reign of Queen Mary, had two sons to whom he gave the name of Thomas, " after a fashion,"' says the Ancestor, vol. xii, p. 6, "deplorable to the genealogist." They were both Knights. One was governor of Dover Castle, and ^l.V. for llic borough, the other was implicated in ^^'yatt■s rising in Kent, sentenced to be executed and pardoned, ultimately becoming ancestor of the Earls of Wmchelsca. QUESTION AND ANSWER 109 allocated to the Corporation of Berwick, for defensive purposes/-' Of course the Doctor did not escape the question put by deists and others to the orthodox Divine, and which still awaits an authoritative reply, namely, " the ultimate fate of the untold millions who died " before the introduction of Christianity, and who " therefore could not avail themselves of what was " never within their reach. If they are eternally " lost souls, what of the justice and mercy of their " Creator ? If not lost souls, then what need for the '' subsec(uent atonement on the Cross ? " Fuller's reply was that, in order to secure the r[uerist's own salvation it was not necessary the question should be answered. The retort met the individual case admirably ; but, in the concrete, it has not been logically solved by any theologian ; though much has been written upon it. This, how- ever, is the fate of many other disputed points of dogma which have loudly called for settlement, but have not reached it — lending force to the remark of Mr, Shandy : " 'Tis a pity that truth can only be on one side, brother Toby, considering what ingenuity these learned men have all shown in their solutions." t * I give my descent from Bishop Pilkington in Appendix (I). t For instance, eaily in the eighteenth century, the Rev. Toby Swinden endeavoured to locate the Infernal Regions, and declared them to be in the Sim — the abode of the devil and his angels ; and that it " will be the fate of ungodly men to be, both soul and body, cast into it — a lake of fire that burneth, day and night, for ever." He quotes no OMNI ANA The great charm about Fuller is that he possessed, to an eminent degree, the saving grace of humoiu'. A lambent light of kindliness, disclosing a most lovable personaUty, plays about his pages. These qualities are what Heyhn lacked, who had neither humour nor kindUness, and was a mere theological pedant. Both were staunch Churchmen ; but Heylin was intolerant of Fuller's tolerance ; he could write an elaborate and learned treatise to refute the doctrine of Election and Reprobation ; while Fuller would be content with throwing off a pithy and epigrammatic paragraph, and was absolutely free from all literary jealousy. He would have given due credit even to Tom Paine for his refutation of this Calvinistic doctrine in a single sentence. " Preachers," says Paine, " tell us that God predestined, and selected from all eternity, a certain number to be saved, and a certain number to be damned. If this were true, then the day of judgment is past, and their preaching is A^ain." The aptness and cogency of this sentence would have dehghted good old Fuller, for it was in his own vein. Revelations xvi. 8, 9, in sujiport of his belief. But others held it, with St. Thomas Aquinas, to be a fire in the earth's centre, Lessius goes into a minute calculation as to the space available. He says that, cubically measured, allowing every body six feet square, it will hold " eight hundred thousand millions of damned souls, which will abundant^ suffice." But will it ? '" Better doubt of things concealed, than contend about uncertainties." Let us leave it at that. A COURSE OF THEOLOGY ill BECAUSE of the compulsory surfeit of religious instruction which I underwent as a schoolboy, no one but this genial large-hearted Divine, a scion, happily, of my own race, could have induced me, in after years, to open a theological book ; but he succeeded in awaking an interest which had lain so long dormant, and which is latent in the breast of even the most lax of latitudinarians. After a course of Fuller, I made the acquaintance of Tillotson, South, Barrow, Sherlock, Jeremy Taylor, Butler, and a host of others. I do not mean to say that I went systematically through all their voluminous pages, to the extent of hopelessly impairing my ethical digestion ; but rather that I assimilated here and there, whatever had a peptic tendency : anything more than this meant, simply, bewilderment ; for not only is it that there are two sides to every cjuestion, but that each individual dogma has too many sides to be counted. It is not to be expected that the connoisseur should drain every bottle in a well-stocked cellar. He is content to sample the different vintages — sipping, testing the aroma, and nosing the houquet of each. This process as apphed by me, led to the conviction that the " odour of sanctity " was inter- mingled largely with, and overborne by the odour of brimstone. Clearly theology could not dispense with the sulphurous cogency of Hell, and its eternity 112 OMNI ANA of physical torment — always one of the strongest planks in the platform of controversy. It was necessary, for terrorising piu'poses, that creeds should be provided with a personal devil, set up as a scare- crow to affright the timid and the doubting ; but he has now practically ceased to scare the majority ; and the field over which he dominated is overrun ^\ath daring trespassers.* The early Fathers of the Chui'ch, as we know, dwelt elaborately, exhaustively, and indeed one may say lovingly, on details of the ex- cruciating agonies awaiting all condemned souls ; and explained how the contemplation of their sufferings would add to the felicity of the saved ones. St. Thomas Aquinas says : Beati in regno ccehsti videbunt foenas damnatorum ut heatitudo illis magis comflaceat. Surely, souls which could derive excess of happiness from contemplating misery and torture, deserved to be in hell themselves rather than in heaven. Tertulian positively gloats over the horrors he describes. Through the ages, the devout Chi^istian was obsessed by this belief in the personality of Satan (with horns, a forked tail, and cloven hoofs), torment- ing those hapless ones whom God had rejected and * Lately I have been reading Count Von Hoensbroech's Fourteen Years a Jesuit. He says : '• Father Von Doss drove the fear of the devil into the very marrow of iny bones. Happily the dread of this worst phantom of religious folly and dogmatic narrowness was expelled hence long ago." In Ireland, a centiny since, the faithful had a lively picture of Hell furnished by a cheap translation and the circulation of the .Tesuit Pinamonti's book on the subject. CROMWELL AND THE DEVIL 113 pitchforking tlieiii into the flanies. Nay, the early 1^'athers even came to beHeve in the figment which they had themselves created, and were overawed by it. " Miserable and woeful creatures that we are," said St. Chrysostojn to the African conjuror, " wc cannot so much as expel fleas, much less devils." Satan and his imps became entities which had to be reckoned ^vith by poor humanity, down to recent times. The Reformation did not question the exist- ence of his Satanic majesty in the flesh. " Being roused by a noise in my room,"' says Luther, " and perceiving it was only the devil, I went to sleep again." On another occasion, we know that he shied an ink- bottle at the same unwelcome visitor — the mark of which exists to this day — testifying not only to the identity of the ink, but of the intruder. Ignatius Loyola saw, suspended in the air, a shining serpent, and, recognising that he was the devil, he drove him away with a stick ; Pope Gerbert, according to Bishop Otho, got his pontificate by a compact with his Satanic majesty ; and Echard, in his History of England, gives us a wonderful story of an interview between Oliver Cromwell and the same gentleman, at which Colonel Lindsay was present. " It was " believed, and that not without good cause, that " Cromwell, the same day he defeated the King's army '' at AVorcester, had conference personally with the " Devil, in a wood, with whom he made a contract *' to have his will for seven years, in all things, from 114 OMNI ANA " that day ; and that, at the expiration, he (the " Devil) should have him at command, both with his " soul and body. A vahant officer called Colonel " Lindsey, an intimate friend of Cromwell, was " present, and was bid by him, to take particular " notice of what he saw and heard." Lindsey was seized with terror and horror at what he did hear and see. The two wrangled over terms. Cromwell in- sisted that the agreement was to have been for twenty- one years ; then he held out for fourteen ; but, finally, had to be content with seven. Lindsey got such a fright, the historian tells us, that he hastily mounted his horse, deserted, and rode full speed into Norfolk, pulhng up at the house of Mr. Thoroughgood, the Minister of his parish. Wlien the reverend gentleman " saw his friend come into the yard, his " horse tired, and himself in a Maze, he said : ' How " now, Colonel ? ' Said the other, ' Yes, I am sure " there has been a Battel, and the King is Beaten ; " but, if ever I Strike a Stroak for Cromwell again, " may I perish Eternally ; for he has made a League '* with the Devil, and the Devil will have him in Due " Time.' Then he told the story, concluding with " these remarkable words, that Cromwell would die that " day seven years that this Battel was fought ; and so " it came to ^iass.'' But it needed moral rather than physical courage to get rid of the personal devil. The belief in him died hard. Even now it cannot be said to be wholly I MAKE A THEOLOGICAL EXCURSUS 115 gone ; but, anyhow, the supposition that the sufferings of children in hell should increase the happiness of their more fortunate parents in heaven, or vice versa, seemed so horrible and incredible, that Divines of the seventeenth and subsequent centuries, harassed by deists, latitudinarians, universalists, rationalists, and agnostics, had to shift their ground, and propound the less revolting doctrine that all human and natiu'al affections ceased with death ; and that thus, the saved were spared all consciousness of the tortures infhcted on those once dear to them here. This was the best that could be made of the situation, and was considered satisfactory by Dr. Doddridge and others of greater mental calibre ; but, to dispense with the devil altogether was, for a long time unthinkable. The great mistake made in the past by the layman, was, allowing all thinldng to be done for him. " The average man," says John Duke of Buckingham in his autobiography, " is no more fit to solve abstruse problems, than a fish is to play a game of bowls." (A simile which speaks volumes.) But when the average man took up the cudgels in real earnest, as he did about the end of the eighteenth century, a fierce fight ensued. The upheaval was terrific. I made an excursus into the theological battle- field, and found the conflict exciting and intensely interesting. George Borrow's " man in black " in Romany Ill) OMNI ANA Rye attributes the ascendancy of Christianity, to its superior fighting povvei". I am not prepared to accept, in its entirety, such a sweeping conckision ; but, there may be " something in it," all the same. There were many doughty men engaged in this particular fight. The great Berkeley alone seemed undisturbed by the odium theologicum ; while he laboured— with no more sustaining beverage than tar-water — to eliminate matter from the universe, and perfect his Ideal Theory. There were "wigs on the green," mitres and croziers Ijattered and broken, any amount of dust, and the deafening din of battle. Proverbially the looker-on sees most of the game — sitting on the fence — as I did. I found Matthew Tindal jnaintaining a stiff fight, against long odds, with Clarke, Conybeare, Layland, and Law ; and, at the start, delivering a staggering blow against his orthodox opponents by quoting Richard Bishop of Bath and Wells, as saying that " Christianity Avould be, perhaps, the last rehgion a wise man would choose, if he were guided by the lives of those who profess it." * Anthony Colhns, equally heavily handicapped, was left for dead, after contest * The best reply to Tiudal's Christianity as old as the Creation was Avrittcn by the Rev. Simon Bro-mie, a dissenting minister, and is entitled A Defence of the Religion of Nature. See for an account of this extra- ordinary man, No. 88 of The Adventurer. He went completely oflf his head, mider the conviction thai (J^od had arbitrarily deprived him of his reasoning powers, and reduced him to the condition of a mere animal ; and he suffered agonies from the bcUef that ijc was lost. THE DEISTIC CONTROVEESY 117 with Bentley, the Dccan of St. Patrick's, and othei-s : but, maldng a wonderful recovery, he renewed the fight later on with Bishop Chandler. Woolaston was pitted against the Bishop of St. David's ; Annet against Shei'lock ; Toland against Peter Brown ; Conyers-Middleton against Waterland ; Warburton against Bolingbroke, who was supported by a host of lesser fry ; while the pohshed and optimistic Shaftes- bury— always in full dress, so to speak— contended with the uncouthly-garbed, unscrupulous, iconoclastic Mandeville ; and Horseley was at daggei's drawn with Priestly. I am bound, in fairness, to admit that, as far as I am capable of judging, orthodoxy had far and away the best of the conflict. Though it suffered severely at the hands of its opponents, it survived the shock, and held on tenaciously to its devil ; handing him down to our own time as an asset to be reckoned with— a fersona ingrnta against whose machinations our loving mothers still teach us how to pray. AND here, it will not be out of place to give an interesting fact as related by the mother of a great Divine. Melesina Trench, in a letter to Mary Leadbeater {nee Fuller) tells a story of her " second little boy," and how, when she admonished him, after an angry bout with a play-mate, remarking 118 OiMNIANA that " we should meet all our friends in heaven," got for answer " with the most satisfied expression (the itahes are hers), and the countenance which painters give to a seraph, ' Oh ! no ! for some of our friends will be in Hell ! ' '' This was in 1813 ; and the son was Richard Chenevix Trench, then six years old — the future High Church Archbishop of Dublin ; a delightful fact to which he does not refer in her Remains, edited by him ; * and which, also, seems to have escaped the notice of his own biographer. The boy developed, as we know, into one of the largest- hearted of men, who, in after life, must have sorely grieved over the dire necessity of a contingency in which, through hfe, he firmly believed ; but, neverthe- less, he would have sorrowfully done penance, in the largest capitals, for that early uncharitableness which his mother emphasised by italics. He held firmly in his maturer years what he had been taught in infancy ; but he was kindly to a fault : a great, large-souled, and learned Prelate. The fact is that mankind individually is, nowadays, tenderer than its aggregate in creeds. But between all the Christian sects, there is in one respect, hardly a pin to choose. All the strong ones persecuted in the past ; and the weak ones lacked, not the propensity, but the power to persecute. For, in proportion as each one beheved in the efficacy and saving grace of his * Remains nj Mrs. Richard Trench. Edited by her son, then Dean of Westminster. London, 18fi2, DECAY OF PERSECUTION 119 particular tenets, was he bound, in conscience, to propagate them, and to suppress all others. To make no effort to drive straying sheep out of the broad way, and force them into the narrow one, was to be worse than the wanderers themselves ; and thus coercion became the surest test of sincerity. " Perse- cution," says Hallam, " is the deadly original sin of the Reformed Churches, that which cools every honest man's zeal for their cause " ; a statement which Lecky endorses. " Persecution," he says, " among the early Christians, was a distinct and definite doctrine, digested into elaborate treatises. It was the doctrine of the palmiest days of Protestantism " (as he admits it always was of Romanism). Against this contention I recall one egregious assertion made, years ago, by a clergyman, which so impressed me by its fatuity, that I never forgot it ; and I recently hunted it up among the files of the Irish Ecclesiastical Gazette, The statement was made in the eighties, while he was only an Archdeacon. " We are very often told," he says, " that there were martyrs on the other side — that there were a great number of Roman Catholics put to death for their rehgion— yet it is a matter of fact that there is no ground whatever for stating that there were any — it is entirely an untruth ! " This Divine became subsequently a Bishop.* * Of Fisher and Sir Thomas More it was recorded that their heads were set on high on London Bridge, " among the rest of the Carthusians' heads, that sufl'ered death lately, before them " ; and Caulfield, in his 120 OMNI ANA But of course ouo has romc across equally egregious statements made by much greater men than he. St. Augustine denied existence of the Antipodes because, he said, " if God had peopled it, they would be unable to see Christ at his second advent ; "' but, to come down to more inodern times, we have Arch- bishop Usslier, in the seventeenth century, calculating exactly the period between the Creation and the birth of Christ ; while Dr. Lightfoot (not the Victorian Bishop, ])\it a Vice-Chancellor of Cambridge) gives the correct date of the Creation as 23rd of October, 4004 B.C. If we smile at these pronouncements we may also question others which have been hopelessly luled out by Evolution, and by the unimpeachable testimony of geology, as to the existence of man, for untold ages behind Adaiu. The great outcry raised by the Churches, when Daiwin came to supersede Moses, was based on the assumption that his cult ousted the Creator from the scheme of creation. But, does it ? Is he not still immensely and inscrutably above and beyond the protoplasm and the amoeba ? Governing by fixed laws and not by caprice, he ceases to be an anthropomorphic, unprincipled, vindictive, immoral and capricious entity, riding by fits and starts, and amenable or inimical to human influences. The Pantheist identified him with Nature. Lucretius, Ulstorij of the Gunpowder Plot, published in 1804, gives the names of |)riests, laymen, and women (about 280), with (he dales of their execution, between the years 1;150 and 1002 inehisive. TOPLADY AND McKENZTE 121 does not claim to bo inspired ; nor does another pagan, Seneca, whose creed is thus expressed — Quid enim aliiid est natura quam Dens— quia nee natura sine Deo est, nee Deus sine natura ; and it is only fair to admit that behef in the immortality of the soul owes very much to another illustrious pagan, and to later times only the bewildering accretions of dogma. Of these accretions two .curious instances occur to me. The Rev. Augustus Toplady, philosophical Calvinist, who went carefully into the matter, says that because we always fall short of that perfection which God requires we commit a sin every second, so that at ten years old a man might reckon on a debit account against him of 315,036,000 and an octo- genarian, like myself, on 2,510,288,000. (I have not checked these figures.) While Sir George McKenzie, the erudite Scotch la^7yer, and moral essayist — ■ commonly called by the Covenanters " bloody George'' — takes the same view as to the huge accumulation of sins. And both draw the in- ference that the immortality of the soul is, thereby, proved ; since, obviously, infinity is needed in which to wipe oft" the accumulated arrears of in- dividual sinners, no definite time limit could be fixed. This is the most gruesome of all arguments for immortality. 122 OMNIANA NOTHING is more remarkable than the vast strides which the principles of toleration have made within the last two centuries. In the year 1699 John Asgill published a book in which he advanced the theory that death was avoidable, and that man might physically live for ever. He was M.P. in 1703 for Enniscorthy. His book was taken seriously by the Irish Parliament.* He was expelled from tlie House, and the volume was ordered to be bui'iied by the hangman, publicly, in Dublin. He was afterwards elected M.P. for Bramber in 1705 by the English Parliament, when the same course was followed in London, and he was expelled ; his book burned in the city ; and some landed property, which he had purchased, confiscated ; whereby he was reduced to abject poverty, and died in the Fleet in 1738. Contrast all this with the following facts from my own recollection. An Irish clergyman, the Rev. * October 11, 1703. — Heard Mr. Asgill, a member of this House, in Ilia place on an information against him that he is the author of a book entitled "An a7-f/u)ne)it provin/j thai according to the covenant of eternal life revealed in the Scriptures man inuy be translated from hence into that eternal life without passing through death, althongh the human nature of Christ himself could not be thus translated till he had passed through death. And having examined several witnesses touching that matter and heard what Mr. Asgill could say in his owu justification, and ho being withdrawn, resolved nern. con. — " That it appears to this House that John Asgill, Esq., a member of this House, is author of the said book." Resolved—" That he be expelled this House, and be for ever hereafter incapable of being chosen, returned, or sitting a member in any succeeding Parliament in this kingdom." REV. TRESHAM GREGG 123 Tresham Gregg, D.D., had a similar " bee in his bonnet " ; but he was not interfered with, either by civil or ecclesiastical authority. The public kept on " never minding," till, in due course, he gave the lie to his own propaganda, by passing away. He bom- barded all his brother clergy with pamphlets. I remember his writing to the Venerable Archdeacon Martin on this hobby ; who politely replied that, as he had only recently expended a large sum in the erection of a family mausoleum, he thought it would look fatuous, and inconsistent, if he evaded the occupation of it. I was the architect of this mauso- leum ; had the story from Dr. Martin himself ; and congratulated him on escaping controversy so dis- creetly.* Another significant case in point within my recollection, was that of the historian Froude. When he pubhshed his Neinesis of Faith, it was ostentatiously burned by a brother Oxonian, Dr. William Sewell ; but toleration was in the air, and Sewell is now forgotten. Even still, to some minds tolerance is merely a synonym for indifference. Nevertheless the power of the bigot to stop the clock or even put back the hands, has all but passed away. * The Archdeaoon was a remarkable man, mentally and physicallj', learned, stately, and courteous. He published an able book entitled The Lord's Supper in its Scriptural and Sacerdotal Aspect. Mrs. Martin was a daughter of Bishop Mant. She added her name as an author, to the long roll of expositors of the Booh of Bevelatioji, " who are," in the words of Edmniid Gosse, '■ forever chasing the |)hantnni of Pf)))ery through its fuliginous pages." 124 OMNI ANA T recall a notable controversy between a biologist and a bishop — Huxley and Wilberforce — which had far-reaching results. They met in the Museum Library at Oxford in 1860, when the crowd was so great that ladies fainted. The bishop wound up his tirade with personalities, and finished by asking the great scientist whether his relationship to the ape was through his grandfather or grandmother. The retort was crushing — " If there were an ancestor whom 1 shoidd feel shame in recallins; it woidd 1)6 a man of restless and versatile intellect, who, not content wdth equivocal success in his own sphere, plunges into scientific cjuestions with which he has no real acquaint- ance, only to obscure them by an aimless rhetoric, and distract the attention of his hearers from the real point at issue, by eloquent digressions and skilled appeals to religious prejudice." There was a flutter of excitement caused by the a]3pearance of the mildly heretical Essays and Bevieivs ; also by Tract 90, and the Oxford movement, and by Ecce Homo ! Then there was the pronounced heterodoxy of Colenso, for whom no abuse was too strong ; but, after all, it was only abuse ; and the Ecclesiastical Courts refrained from extreme measures which, tw^o centuries ago, would have resulted in terrible pains and penalties. It is true that, not many years since, the Rev. Charles Voysey was de- prived of his incumbency. This, however, hardly came iindei' the head of persecution, or even intolerance. CONTROVERSIAL AMENITIES 125 because he had been receiving from the Church, remuneration while preaching against her doctrine, and repudiating her tenets, from his pulpit ; and she could hardly be expected to stand that. He was only a small man, and got crushed ; but Colenso braved it out, and refused to accept impossibihties or to beheve absurdities which he could not persuade even his Zulu followei's to hsten to ; but he was a bishop ; and there remained nothing for it but to make a cock shot of the man who sheltered negation under his mitre; and to pelt the renegade who beUeved too little, with the strongest denunciatory expletives in the language. But hard words break no Ijoncs ; and, the amenities of controversy have often been conspicuous only for their vigour. Luther called Calvin " a pig," and bespattered the schoolmen in general with such epithets as " frogs," " lice," " scorpions," " snakes," etc., etc. John Milton called the learned Salmasius " a starving rascal," " a chattering pye," on the ground, I suppose, that he, a pensioner under a republic, should dare to print a defence of monarchy ; * while the inspired tinker Avho * Defeusio Rerjla pro Carolo I. My copy is dated 1653. His wife was a termagant, so that he " caught it " both at home and abroad. The relative merits of these authors are summed up thus by Hobbes — ■ ■■ They write good latine both, and hardly to be judged which is better ; both very ill reasoners and hardly to be judged which is worst — like the declamations pro and coji, for exercise only, in a rhetorical school, by one and the same man : so like is a Presbyterian to an Independent." Salmasius's treatise was -suppressed at Amsterdam, wliilc Milton's was burned by the hangman at Paris and Toulouse." 126 OMNIANA gave us the Pilgrims Progress, wx'iiiwg of the Bishop of Gloucester and his creed, hkcned him to " an ape blowing at a glow-worm (the Estabhshed Church) Avhich affords neither light nor warmth " — a '' brutish man/' " a clambering thief," and so on. The ortho- dox assailants of Colenso were not quite so brutal, though they were equally bitter ; but their troubles did not end with those who beheved too little ; for they had to contend also with those who beheved too much. Manning and Newman, for instance, had a very important following to be reckoned with ; and their influence and the tractarian upheaval, effected a cleavage in the ranks of orthodoxy, into which the wedge of rationalism has been firmly janmied. I recall the rashly impulsive onslaught made by that most unsubtle and honest-hearted of divines, Charles Kingsley, with a polemical red-hot poker, against Newman ; but his weapon was no match for the pohshed rapier play — the carte and tierce of his opponent ; and, however much one may regret it and wish the result had been otherwise, one must admit that he came off second best. The Apologia of Newman was a masterpiece. Kingsley was out for a raid, and found himself suddenly up against subtleties — barbed wire sunk fences, and the like. Kome had reason to rejoice over Tract 90, and the Oxford movement. Speculative unrest troubled the souls of many who longed for something definite THE BROTHERS NEWMAN 127 and incontrovertible. Tiiere was only one Church which claimed to be infallible ; and, if these men were satisfied with her credentials, there was no more to be said. This was what Kingsley failed to see. Obviously, if all risk of falling out of the theological bed is to be avoided, the best thing to do is to lie on the floor. Men like Newman and Manning had been hurting themselves terribly tumbhng off the four-posters of their youth ; and they were within their rights in preferring the floor.* But, there was another aspect of that time which deserves passing notice. Dr. Newman's brother became a pronounced sceptic, pubhshed a very able book entitled Phases of Faith (which appeared in 1870), and also another, The Soul, Its Sorrows and Aspirations. They were replied to by Professor Rogers in his Eclijose of Faith ; but his methods of refutation did not bring conviction home to the mind of the general pubhc. He created tAvo imaginary disputants — one representing F. W. New- man, and the other himself ; and he always, in his own estimation, triumphantly refuted his opponent by knocking the stuffing out of the lay figure which * Here I am reminded of an incident in connexion with the tem- porary derangement of a worthy gentleman, Mr. C , a native of my owai county, who came to the conclusion that his left leg had '" turned protestant." He refused to let the heretic limb under the bed clothes, and insisted on its amputation. The surgeon, however, wisely called in the priest, who succeeded in bringing the leg back to the true faith, to the satisfaction of the demented man, and thereby hastened his recover^'. 128 OMNIANA lie litid aat up and kibelled " sceptic.'' But Newman retorted vigorously ; and llogcrs tared no better than Kingsley. Before parting with the rector of E\'ersley, 1 must recall an incident concerning him. 1 read with great interest, when it came out, in 1877, Mrs. Kings- ley's Life of her famous husband ; and, happening to mention the book to the wife of Dean S , she expressed a wish to read it. I said I would lend it with the greatest of pleasure ; and specially men- tioned a beautiful and touching letter of his to a sincere atheist friend, hoping and believing that they would meet in Heaven. " An atheist ! " she exclaimed ; '" oh, how shock- ing ! Thank you, very much ; but I don't think 1 should care to read the book.'' The idea of a parson being on friendly terms with an atheist ; and that parson hoping to meet him in Heaven ; was too much for her to digest. She didn't want any black sheep of that description knocking about where she and the Dean were going, and where presumably they now are. A generation ago, when the influence of that noble-hearted and broad-minded Divine, the Kev. Theodore Parker, was at its height, the pastor and congregation of a dissenting place of worship offered up a prayer supplicating the Almighty to terminate his career — in plain language asking God to kill him I One shudders to think what, in the middle ages. MODERN TOLERATION 12i9 would have been the fate of Wilham Greg for writing the Creed of Christefidom, or of the author of Super- natural Religion ; of Lyell, of Tyndal, Huxley, Darwin, and a host of others of our own time ; of Leshe Stephen, who declared that creeds " only lived till they were found out " ; of Buckle, who says : " We still see the extraordinary spectacle ' of prayers offered up in our churches for dry weather ' or wet weather — a superstition which, to future ages, ' will appear as childish as the feehngs of pious awe ' with which our forefathers regarded the presence ' of a comet or the approach of an echpse " ; of Pro- fessor Clifford, who says : " When we love our ' brother for the sake of our brother, we help all men ' to grow in the right ; but, when we love our brother ' for the sake of somebody else who is very hkely to ' danm our brother, it very soon comes to burning 'him alive for his soul's health " ; of Lecky, who writes : " Geology has conclusively disproved what ' was once the universal behef , concerning the origin ' of death. It has proved that, countless ages before ' man trod this earth, death raged and revelled among ' its occupants. To deny this is now impossible : to "' admit it is to abandon one of the root-doctrines of " the past." All these men are emphatic in maintain- ing the existence of the " reign of law in nature " ; and Lecky ridicules the idea of cholera, for instance, being co method."' being combated " according to the theological K i30 OMNIANA This mention of cholera recalls to my memory a bomb dropped by Palmerston into the ranks of the Scotch Presbyterians which, in earUer times, would have resulted in his own destruction. The pestilence made its appearance in Edinburgh about 1853 ; and the Presbytery, through the Moderator, called upon him to say whether it was his intention, as Home Secretary, to recommend the Queen to appoint a day of humihation, fasting, and prayer, in order to avert the consequences. His reply was characteristic. He informed the clergy that the afiairs of this world were regulated by natural laws, and that " the weal or woe of mankind depends upon the observance or neglect of those laws." He recommended immediate sanitary reforms ; cleanh- ness and better housing and feeding of the poor ; said that activity in these directions was " better than fasting and humihation " ; winding up by remarking that, if they were not attended to, " pestilence would be fruitful in death, in spite of all the prayers and fastings of a united but inactive nation." Pam gave voice to what probably no other member of the Government would have had the temerity to utter. I do not remember a fact referred to by Strauss,* when the English Peers reproached Lord John Russell with not having ordered a general fast against the murrain which had broken out. " We shall at * Translatiou of The Old Faith and the, New, by Mathilde Blind. PALMERSTON 131 " any rate," he says, " be confirmed in the wish that, " by an improved education, we may be brought to " see that these things are manifestations of nature " subject to laws as stringent as the eclipses of the " sun and moon." But Pam was not afraid to hit out impartially. Some time in these same fifties, he was an honoured guest at the christening feast of some nobly born baby. The ceremony had been performed by a bishop, supported by other distinguished clerics, all of whom were bidden to the repast. Palmerston had to make a short speech, which he did in a strain calculated to rejoice and touch the heart of the titled mother. He spoke of the infant born into this world without moral spot or blemish, in perfect innocence and purity — ^in fact, there and then re- pudiating the doctrine of original sin. His words, of course, when reproduced in cold print, were denounced by the Church papers and by Church dignitaries ; but he calmly ignored criticisms and let the storm rage till it had expended itself. The Augsburg Profession of Faith had no terrors for him. He was pre-eminently a man of humour and of common- sense. What he would have said to the " unco guid " people of Sweden if he had been consulted may be imagined, when they endeavoured to sup- press the system of botany, propounded by Linnseus, proving the existence of sexes in plants, on the plea that it tended to infiame the minds of the 132 OMNI ANA young.* And lie would have been delighted to make the acquaintance of the lady whose modesty impelled her to segregate the contents of her library by separating the volumes written by men from those written by women. This Avas not only a concession to the proprieties, but it removed all suspicion of undue familiarity between the books, and the con- sequent risk of any irregular increase in their number. It may safely be presumed that this exemplary person was one of those who could only pursue her devotions in a place of worship which separates the male members of the congregation from the female. 1 understand there arc such churches, the congrega- tions of which can, doubtless, advance cogent reasons for their peculiarities ; and defend their position as involving some principle to which they attach importance. In judging them, nuich depends on perspective, and a proper sense of proportion on the part of the sceptic ; whose moral squint, so to speak, may make all the difference. But the ethics of ritual is, in any case, too large and abstruse a subject for a mere superficialist to grapple with. I leave it where I found it ; and pass on to recall a parochial incident which is not altogether irrelevant as illustrating the wisdom of " never minding " in dealing with such matters. An old gcuUcman, Mr. M , was a very regular * 1 remember how puzzled 1 myself was, iu early youth, by a botanical difficulty iii connexion with statuary. I DISCUSS A PARISHIONER'S CHARITY 133 church-goer in my parish, and did his best to give effect to the notice in the porch requesting " the members of the congregation to join audibly in the responses." His voice topped all others ; and he had, in his pew, a kneeling-stool on wheels, which always noisily resented being moved from under the seat and back again. At the beginning of the prayers for the Queen and royal family, he invariably jumped of? his knees, kicked back his stool, sat bolt upright on his seat, with arms folded, and refused to utter the responses. When these prayers were ended, the remonstrating stool was kicked out again, and he dropped on his knees, and resumed his devotions. This programme was so marked that everybody noticed it, and strangers turned to look at him. He got upon my nerves. The plain inter- pretation of liis action was that he wished the Queen and all belonging to her to be damned — that is if he had any influence with the Almighty. I asked myself how could this old man go to Communion, and be " in charity with all men." It seemed to me a horrible mockery ; and, how the rector could admit him to Communion puzzled me exceedingly. I attacked the reverend gentleman — ^one of the kindliest and largest-hearted of parsons — about it, one day. " Canon," I said, " it amounts to a grave scandal to see a whiteheaded old fellow hke that, start up, in the face of the whole congregation, and refuse to pray for the royal family." 134 OMNIANA " It is very unseemly, I admit," respoiKled the Canon, " but — well, you see, he has a strong con- scientious objection to do so, since the Queen signed the Act for the disestabhshment of our Church." " But," I said, waxing wroth, " how in Heaven's name can you — — " He took me up short. " Oh ! I don't, for a moment, pretend to justify M ; but, you must not be too harsh in your judgment, my dear fellow. There is a vast difference between a negative and a positive : he refrains from prayer, he does not actually pray for her damnation." " You cannot, surely," I retorted, '' expect any sane Christian to accept such a plea as satisfactory ; it is a very poor attempt at casuistry on the part of a distinguished cleric. You must know that while he kneels at the Lord's table, he has rancorous and unholy feelings in his heart against a whole family, while he professes ' to be in charity with all men ' ; moreover, in my own case, his presence, under the circumstances, reacts injuriously upon me. In fact, I cannot stand it." " I'm very sorry," he said ; " but— really — well — what can I do ? My talking to him has had no effect." I was angry. '' Surely, then," I said, " until you luive lu'ought him into a proper state of mind, you should not admit him to Communion. I call it double deahng with Providence." DR. CALAMYVS VIEWS 135 The Canon was not prepared for such a drastic step as this. '' Oh ! tut ! tut ! tut ! " he exclaimed, and walked away highly incensed. I felt that there was something comprehensively expressive in the " tut, tut, tut." It implied danger ; it suggested caution ; it deprecated controversy ; it covered the rough surface on which we trod so to speak, with a Turkey carpet, and said in effect, " Pass on now — say no more about it." Neverthe- less this action on his part puzzled and worried me for a time : till I came, later on, to understand what is really meant by the phrase " making the best of both worlds." The learned Dr. Calamy's book entitled Nonconformist Memorials has a place in my hbrary. When consulting it one day I came upon an informing passage. King James the Second was in the toils when the Doctor wrote : " While ' they (the clergy) privately prayed for the Prince ' of Orange's prosperity, they were forced, in public, ' to pray, according to the liturgy, that God would ' be the defender and keeper of King James, and ' give him victory over all his enemies. But God, ' to the unspeakable comfort of the nation, preferred ' their private prayers to their public ones." If one had questioned the ethics of this position, what more effective answer could be given by the dis- tinguished Divine than " tut, tut, tut " ? He was, to be sure, a Nonconformist ; but, expediency is a common factor — or rather a bond of union 136 OMNIANA among all existing creeds. Conformity as to dogma is too much to hope for among members of the cloth. The only clerical optimist, in this particular direction, I ever came across, in the course of my desultory reading, was the Rev. Cotton Mather ; who was not only himself a Divine, but came of generations of Divines. In one of his books he tells of " a gentleman who had an humour of making " singidar and fanciful expositions of Scripture ; " but one Doctor Sim gave him a dose of physic, " which, when it had wrought, the gentleman became " orthodox immediately." Doctor Sim,* undoubtedly did a very bad turn to poor humanity, when he died without making his prescription public. Only to think of it ! Brothers all ! No more disagree- ment ! The odium iheologicum dead and buried ! Take a case in point. I have two estimable relatives, one very Evangelical, the other very High Church. I stand between them, very Broad Church, a negligible <[uantity having no influence with either — in fact, if the truth must be owned, rather despised by both. * The doctor should have come down to posterity with a more famous medicine-man. Von Hehnont, who, among many notable achievements, compounded, or ])ropounded, a receipt for making fleas (for which, however, it may be presumed there was no great demand) ; and he would have utterly eclipsed Hobbes, whose work on Ldberty and NecessUij bore the comprehensive sub-title, wherein nil controversij concerning Predestination, Election, Freewill, Qrace, Merits, Reprobation, etc., etc., is fully decided and cleared — a " tall order " which remains as far off as ever. PRESCRIPTION BY DR. SIM 137 The first pins his faith on the Reformation ; for without it, we should still be believing in the doctrine of the Mass, the Pope's infallibility, the Virgin Mary, and ever so many dreadful things besides, which I need not enumerate. The other denounces the Reformation as an unmitigated evil, and as having pushed us off the sohd rock of St. Peter and landed us in a quagmire ; and he points to the thousand and one different creeds which it has engendered, each fighting its own corner. Both men are devout believers in " the God of our fathers " ; both aspire to Heaven ; but neither can satisfactorily explain why the Almighty should want to spend for ever and ever with uncountable myriads of the human race at all. If this prescription by Doctor Sim were only available, it would put an end to such speculative doubt. Lacking it, there will appear to other minds a higher and nobler conception of Godhead and of immortahty ; but then it is not an orthodox one, though to these other minds, it may appear sufficient. Evidently, the great Dean of St. Patrick's, under Doctor Sim's treatment, would have hesitated when he wrote : " Who that " sees a paltry mortal droning and dreaming and *' drivelhng, can think it agreeable to common sense " that either Heaven or Hell should be put to the " trouble of influencing him, or of inspection of what '* he is about ? " — a pronouncement which brings the Dean into perilous proximity to Tom Paine, who 138 OMNI ANA says : " There is a sort ot men who are so very " insignificant, botli in character and conduct, as " not to be worth the trouble of damning or saving, " or of raising from the dead. My own opinion is " that those whose hves have been spent in doing " good and endeavouring to make their fellow- " creatures happy will be happy hereafter ; and that " the very wicked will meet with punishment. But " those who are neither good, nor bad, or are too " insignificant for notice, will be dropped entirely." Tliis reads like a forecast of the Darwinian theory of " natural selection " and the survival of the '■' fittest," as apphed to speculative theology ; but, the last sentence presents difficulties in determining the fate of those not wholly good or wholly bad, or who might or might not be wholly insignificant. Paine does not tell us under which class he would definitely place himself ; but his " confession of faith " deserves to be recorded : "I believe in one God " and no more ; and / Jwpefor hafpiness beyond this " life. I believe in the ecjuality of man ; and I " believe that rehgious duties consist in doing justice, " loving mercy, and endeavouring to make our " fellow-creatures happy." Tom Paine, as we know, was an arch-heretic ; and this " confession of faith " falls far short of the requirements of the Schoolmen ; but, it could not be charged to the account of the Reformation : it has a pedigree going back to paganism, and has by no means been relegated to THE ADAMITES 139 the limbo oC obsolete controversy. His words above quoted might be taken as almost a literal translation from Spinoza's Tractatus Theologica- PolUicus. HERESIES, by-the-bye, are an entertaining study. I recall to memory the exponent of one of them, a reverend gentleman whom I knew personally, but whose identity I will not indi- cate even by initials. He was at times " of? his head " ; and I was credibly informed that one Sunday he emerged from the vestry and entered his pulpit, posing as Adam, in a state of nature, to deliver a sermon on the first man and the garden of Eden. The scene may be imagined. Two members of the constabulary who were present " went " for him ; and, after an exciting chase round the churchyard, succeeded in capturing and retaining him, in the vestry, till his paroxysm had passed : and he then departed quietly with his relatives, clothed and in his right mind. The Adamites were, at one time, a flourishing sect. In a curious old book entitled A View of all Religions of the World from the Creation till these Times, ^ by Alexander Ross, chaplain to Charles the First, I find under the heading Sects * The first edition appeared in 1652. Mine is the sixth. 140 OMNIANA sfrung oiit of Lutheranism , " Adamites, so called ; " they used to be naked in their conventicles, after " the example of Adam and Eve in Paradise. And, " therefore, when they marry, they stand under a " tree naked ; they are admitted as brethren and " sisters, who can, without lust, look upon each " other's nakedness ; but, if they cannot, they arc " rejected." There was a spasmodic revival of this belief in London in 1763. One Bell, a Lifeguards- man, held forth to an assembly, near Hanover Square. His delusions spread. " His followers," says the Magazine from which I quote, " think themselves perfect. God only know^s where this folly will end. Many declare that, as clothes came only in conse- quence of sin, so they being free from it, are to wear none." Probably the authorities objected to the naked truth, as there is no subsequent mention of Bell and his followers. But the cult spread to Dublin. Exhaw^'s Magazine says, " From what has happened here lately one would be led to imagine that the heretical sect called Adamites going about naked, was revived heie. Last Saturday morning about 2 ock, a number of persons supposed to be about twenty, a great part of whom were stark naked, proceeded through the streets, when the watch of St. Peter's parish reinforced by a party from St. Bridget's attacked them in front and rear. The result was a riot in which many were wounded, and a watchman named John Spring had his right arm REV. ALEXANDER ROSS 141 broken and had to be sent to the Inns Quay Infirmary.* ' Evidently the authorities here triumphed, as there is no further allusion to the matter. The cold month of January was chosen, in both cities, for this nude display of rehgious fervour. Alexander Ross' own views on the Church are vigorously expressed in his preface : — " She is as " our Saviour was, placed between two Thieves : " to wit, Superstition on the right hand, and Atheism " on the left. But, let men esteem her as they Hst, " she is, notwithstanding, the fair daughter of the " Almighty. Religion is the sacred anchor by which " the Great Ship of the State is held fast, that she " may not be spht upon the quicksands of popular " tumults, or the rocks of Sedition. Rehgion is the " pillar on which the great fabrick of the Microcosm " standeth. Without Rehgion no humane Society " could be durable, without the knowledge and " fear of a Deity, which all Nations do Reverence " and Worship, though they agree not in the manner *' of their worship." These are eloquent words spoken by this old Divine ; and it must not be forgotten that Christianity has victoriously withstood the shocks of the enemy for nigh two thousand years. The good ship still holds her own ; and amid the sea of doubt, strewn with mines, and harassed by big and little craft, ironclads and submarines, not to mention bomb- diopping aeroplanes, she has fought a big and 142 OMNI ANA glorious tight. She has been splendidly manned, and heroically defended. Her amazing superhuman vitality as a belligerent, seems to indicate that Hume's argument against miracles is, as yet, inconclusive. But the polemics of theology have detained me too long. The pursuit of them is fascinating, if always inconclusive. One gets no answer from the oracles. Nevertheless, we may profit, even as Diogenes did, when he tried to out-voice the sea, or speechified to the irresponsive statues ; eloquently begging, en- treating, and supplicating, in vain ; " yet so that," as the Rev. and " ever memorable Mr. John Hales " puts it, " he might learn to brook denial and tedious- "ness of suit. For since the Gospel was committed " to writing, what age is not full of debate and strife, " concerning the force and meaning of those writings " which hath been left us to be the law and rule of " faith ? " * But, it is enough for us to know that the future of mankind is not bounded by Christianity nor circumscribed by German " culture." Neither Divines nor Doctrinaires can aid us much as pioneers on the way to the " undiscovered couiitx-y From which no traveller returns." Our safest passport to Eternity is a clean record, and a Ufe of usefulness and helpful effort here. Let us see to it that we do not come into the category of * The Golden Remains of the Ever Memorable Mr. John Hales. London, 1763. Ho was professor of Greek at Oxford, Fellow of Eton, and Prebendary of Windsor. LITERARY REMINISCENCES 143 those '* so insignificant as not to be wortli the trouble of damning or saving, or of raising from the dead/' There should be no waste of time over dogma, for there is no time to waste. " Vain are the thousand creeds, That move men's hearts— unutterably vam ; Worthless as withered leaves. Or idlest froth upon the boundless main." * The cult of mere negation is not inspiriting ; and the extent, as the late Samuel Butler puts it, " of our utmost seeing is but a fumbling of bhnd finger- ends in an over-crowded pocket." Nevertheless, the Schoolmen will contend, to the bitter end, on points of doctrine which are futile and unprofitable, while Humanity has got to worry along towards betterment and universal brotherhood. The way is long, and strewn with difficulties. The Millennium of the rationahst means toleration for all creeds not them- selves intolerant — a consummation to the optimist still very remote, to the pessimist quite unattainable, and to the dogmatist absolutely unthinkable. AND now to fulfil the promise made at page 75. My literary reminiscences go back to a pre- sentation copy of Underglim'pses, in 1857, from the author, Denis Florence McCarthy. He was * Emily Bronte. 144 OMNIANA a cliarniing writer ; and, 1 always, in memory, associate an exquisite lyric of his, beginning — ■' Ah ! my heart is weary waiting — Waiting for the May," with an equally perfect one by Monckton Milnes — " I wandered by the brook side, I wandered by the mill." Both men, now, have come to be classed with the minor poets : but McCarthy will be always re- membered for his scholarly translations of Calderon. I remember a capital story which he used to tell with great glee. His contemporary, James J. McCarthy, of a different family, was then leading Church architect in Dubhn. One of the " civic fathers " asked the poet, one day, whether they were not related, who rephed— " Don't you know that Jem an I are twins ? " " Well, that's extraordinary," said the Alderman. " 1 didn't think you were so near as that. Why, you aren't one bit like one another ! " This must have been the same Alderman who, meeting a brother chip, just returned from a Conti- nental trip, and being greatly interested in hearing of the beautiful black " swans of Venice " — the gondolas — ghding gracefully over the waters of the city, etc., etc., exclaimed — " Begorra, Pat — shure, I thought they were ahvays white ; we inust get a pair of 'em over here to breed from, in the Zoo ! " LITERARY REMINISCENCES 145 But, before I introduce any other literary celebrities, it would, perhaps, be better if I were to make a clean breast of it, and relate my own ex- periences, and my efiorts to obtain a hearing as an author. There is a wide-spread behef that great difficulties always beset the " youthful aspirant to literary fame " ; and that many rebuffs and rejections follow his apphcations to editors. My experience has been diiectly the reverse. Perhaps the " rule of contrary " explains my case. I was not an aspirant for literary fame, and obviously never achieved it. I had not the smallest ambition in that way ; but, nevertheless, I was uniformly successful in gaining the editorial ear. I began to write for amusement when an articled pupil in the office of Mr. P , and finding that the occupation brought in stray sovereigns, I pursued it. Though my first effort, however, as I related at page 74, was barren in a pecuniary sense, my sub- sequent efforts were not. The results came as a surprise. In the early days of my pupilage, the " Royal Institute of Architects " ruled the roost. Its executive was composed of distinguished old men whose cult was Classic architecture, which they declared to be the only style possessing dignity and grace enough for public buildings of a monumental character. The officially recognised exponent of these views, in the press, was The Builder, edited by 146 OMNIANA an architect named Godwin, which then held the field, and still flourishes. The young " bloods '' of the profession, fired by enthusiasm for Gothic art, and inspired by the pen and pencil of the great Welby Pugin, revolted ; and had the audacity to form the " Architectural Association,"' which rapidly became a success and counter-irritant. The need for a weekly paper of their own arose ; and the Building News soon made its appearance, edited by an energetic httle man named Tode. It, too, still flourishes. The situation seemed an inviting one for my first literary effort ; and I wrote a strong article in the interests of the Gothic revival, which I dropped into Tode's letterbox. It appeared in the next issue of his paper, and was followed by a cheque for a guinea. This whetted my appetite ; and, it struck me that a second article refuting the first would be acceptable to Mr. Godwin — and so it proved. I netted another guinea ; and, having fired two shots, I fired a third in support of the first ; then having fairly started a fight I left the issue in abler hands — to be continued even down to the present time ; for it is still undeter- mined. These three guineas represented my first earnings, and gave me greater pleasure than any subsequent money-getting ; and a taste, not for literary fame, but for filthy lucre ; which there was joy in spending as soon as gotten. My subsequent experiences with editors were many and various, and remunerative also ; but, it LITERARY REMINISCENCES 147 would be tedious to record them all, even if my memory were equal to the task. I recall a few. As I advanced, I gained confidence enough even to " cheek " an editor. A humorous Irish story was sent by me to an illustrated monthly magazine (which shall be nameless), and accepted. I was asked to state a price, which I did (not knowing that the scale was much higher for magazine than news- paper work), at five pounds. After waiting, in suspense, for two months, I waxed unreasonably impatient, and wrote to the editor. He, of course, knew by the price demanded that I was a mere tiro ; and promptly, and tartly, replied that I should have to wait his convenience. This got my back up ; and I demanded the instant return of my manuscript ; as I was not prepared to put up with his, or any other editor's impudence — this was the purport of what I said, though not so crudely put. In response, I got a cheque, with a curt statement that the " contri- bution will appear in our next issue." The delay was evidently caused by the artist, who would have had to be paid, even if the manuscript had been withdrawn. This did not strike me at ths moment, or I might not have condoned the editor's incivihty without an advance on the five pounds — which would have been a mean advantage to take, I admit. I had, in fact, " cornered " him without knowing it. An illustrated weekly, about the same time, accepted a short (Irish) contribution, and sent me 148 OMNIANA the usual guinea with the flattering statement that the editor would reserve the same space for me, at the same figure, if I cared to become a constant contributor. In response, I wrote for three con- secutive weeks, and then gave him up ; being tied to a regular output didn't suit my volatile dis- position. In the early fifties there issued from the house of Bradbury, Agnew & Co., the first number of an illustrated periodical called Once a Week, that created an immense amount of interest, was an immediate success, and ran for many years. It was sold at the then highly experimental price of threepence. The first number had, among many other contributors, Charles Reade, George Meredith, Tom Taylor, W. Bridges Adams, Shirley Brooks, George W. Dasent, G. H. Lewes, etc., etc., all of whom have secured permanent recognition in the Dictionary of National Biography. The artists were equally famous : Millais, John Leech, Charles Keene, Tenniel. I tried my luck with a short humorous poem. It appeared in due course with an illustration by Leech. Another which I sent later on, also appeared, illustrated by Luard. I was in Manchester just then, and sent a more ambitious production to a local paper. It came out with a note that it was from the pen of one of the contributors to Once a Week — which was added without my knowledge. This poem attained the dignity of recital by a local amateur, at a literary LITERARY REMINISCENCES 149 entertainment — also without my knowledge or consent. Some years later the Oxford University Magazine entitled Dark Blue was launched, supported by any number of celebrated writers, Dowden, Swinburne, Maha%, Rossetti, Andrew Lang, Morris, Mallock, Eangsley, Calverley, Graves, Lynn Linton, and many others " too numerous to mention." As one is said to be known by one's company, I thought it would be well to try my luck again ; and as a result I found myself occupying about a dozen pages in Volume 2. The editor asked for more ; and, in response I contributed sixteen pages to Volume 3. Somewhere about this time Henry Labouchere issued an invitation to the readers of Truth to com- pete for a sequel to Poe's poem of The Raven. I competed and scored. A friend has lately unearthed this production, and sent it to me. As it does not appear to be " half bad " I venture to reproduce it. Certes, said I, with decision— as if holding in derision Any sinister forebodings which I may have held before ; This is but a quaint delusion, a mere fanciful illusion ; I have come to the conclusion — it is simply nothing more ; Some weak mental aberration one should manfully ignore. As I've often done of j^ore. Presently my nerve grew stronger, I could bear it, then no longer — • " Be the outcome good or evil, you must die,"' I inly swore. For the night was wild and dreary, and the incident was eerie ; My spirit, too, was wean*' of this iterative bore — Of this strangely vague, imcanny, black, and singlywordcd bore. Perched above my chamber door. 150 OMNIANA Whether mind, or only matter, I resolved to stop its chatter. And I asked it to foregather on the heart lu'ug — not the door. On a sudden, downward dropinng, with its draggled i>inions flopping, And a sidelong sort of hopping, it approached me on the floor — Stood and -winked and scratched an eyelid, by the firelight on the floor — Winked and scratched, and nothmg more. " I"m imcertam as to gender. Pray, be seated, on the fender. Trust me," said I, " sir or tnadam, I will question you no more." Deftly, then, I brought the poker down U])on the demon croaker — Stretched the weird and fiendish joker dead upon my study floor- Danced about his battered carcase, revelled in his gruesome gore- Stamped and shouted, " Nevermore ? " WITHOUT going into any further detail, these facts will sufficiently show that, as far as my contributions to periodical hterature were concerned, I was a happy-go-lucky sort of chap, who earned stray guineas without much effort ; but when I returned to Ireland, and was a busy professional man, I, in the intervals of business, perpetrated a first novel. And, having heard how an old gentleman who was " reader " for Smith & Elder, recommended the acceptance of Jane Eyre, after other publishing houses in London had rejected it, of course it was ULanifest to me that he was the one man on whose judgment I might rely for due appreciation at first hand. The manuscript came back to me, with a very long and flattering FACSBin-R OF JAMES PAYN'S nA>rDWEITING. I'hulo: W. <£■ I). Downey. JAMES I'AYN. MY FIEST BOOK 151 letter ; but recomniendiiig changes which iiieaub practically rc-casting the book — in other words, a lot of labour which I didn't care to incur ; so I tried another publisher, Macmillan, who introduced me, anonymously, to the pubhc. The book was entitled Cuhmldre Folk ; and I remember with what care I corrected the first instalment of " proofs," par- ticularly with regard to the punctuation ; and how with the " revise " sheets I received a letter from the pubhsher to say that, if I was not more sparing in this respect, " the printers would have to get in an extra supply of commas and semi-colons." This tickled my sense of the humorous ; but, I took the hint nevertheless. Probably ninety-nine per cent, of my present readers (presuming that 1 obtain a hundred) will not have heard of the book before now^ ; but the reviews of it were most extraordinarily favourable. I give extracts from some of these in Appendix (B). They can be skipped by the general reader, but may interest some descendant or other. The first edition was in three volumes, the second and third in one volume — the last brought out by Cassell & Co. Through the publishers, I received a flattering and kindly letter from the novelist James Payii, whose books were very popular in the fifties ; one of the best being Lost Sir Massingberd, which G. H. Lewes declared — taking into account its denouement — should have been entitled Found Sir Missing bird. 152 OMNI AN A Payn was tlien editor of tlic Cornhill Mugazliie ; and we corresponded, in reference to my submitting a serial story for his consideration ; but I did not do so, as I thought liis doubts had something in them. Any merits which my book could claim consisted in character drawing, not iir plot. I was warned by a mutual acquaintance that he had one small weak- ness : he resented his name being spelled with an " e." When our correspondence was drawing to a close I could not resist the temptation to test this point : and in his last letter, which I still possess, he plain- tively says — " I did not deserve your speUing my name with an ' e.' "' On receipt of it I must acknow- ledge that 1 felt a bit small- — his reproof was so dignified ; and, after all, no one really likes his name tampered with. Another very kindly and disinterested letter was from Grant Allen ; and a third was fr'om Mrs. Lynn Linton, who was then at the height of her fame. This latter led to a warm friendship, w^hich culminated in a month's visit to Glashnacree, a detailed account of which is given in the " Life " of her, written by G. S. Layard, and also by herself in a series of articles contributed at the time to the columns of the Queen. Hers was a strenuous soul, and she was a hard and very methodical worker. The daughter of a clergy- man and granddaughter of a bishop, she early left the paternal roof, and went to London — a pronounced agnostic' — to fight the battle of life, which she did 5- _^AVi^ 5?i FACSIMILE OP MRS. LYNN LINTON S HANDWRITINO. MRS. LYNN LINTON. (From a portrait by the Hon. John Collier.) MRS. LYNN LINTON 153 triumphantly. She made mistakes, of course ; one of the worst being her marriage to W. J. Linton, the wood engraver, poet, pohtical and social pamphleteer. a reformer of sorts, and a great friend of Mazzini. The man was clever, but mentally unkempt — an intellectual wastrel — and, to her, utterly anti- pathetic. They ultimately separated by mutual agreement. He went to America ; and, for years, they kept up a friendly correspondence, which on her side meant generous pecuniary assistance. Thc}^ died within six months of each other. In 1889 he paid a visit to London ; but both agreed that it was better not to meet. Not only her own experience, but that which she saw happening every day, in society, led her to form and express strong views on the marriage laws, and on divorce, the relation of the sexes, and the attitude of the Churches on these subjects. Nothing she said or wrote was anything like as strong or heretical or vituperative as what John Milton had given to the world in his Doctrine and Discifline of Divorce, but she was a woman, and that made all the difference. Her contention was that marriage should be a civil contract, wdth a clause of renewal every five, seven, or fourteen years. The idea suggested difficulties with regard to off- spring, but none which able lawyers, acting for the State, could not surmount. George Meredith held similar views. She was of course famihar with Plato's 154 OMNIANA Rcpiddlc advocating a community of wives (of wliicli she did not approve) with provision for the children by the State ; and Lycurgus was a law-giver whom she was not afraid to defend. As for the sanctity of a Church marriage, she attached no weight to it. Many go througli the ceremony, she maintained, not because of any spiritual virtue in it, or any doctrinal importance which it possesses, but simply because, as the law^ stands, they do not wish their prospective offspring to be penalised as '' natural " children, and deprived of legal and social status, as illegitimates. She could understand the Church "fighting its corner," but what she could not understand was the priestly dogmatism which teaches a man who has married, and can't get away from an antagonistic wife, to look upon himself as morally superior to an unmarried man who lives all his life with, and remains true to a woman whom he might desert if he would — nay, further, whom his pastor exhorts him, as a rehgious duty, to desert. The necessity for an explanatory declaration in the prayer-book, as to the purpose of matrimony — since it is addressed to adults — did not seem clear to her ; while its recital nmst be, she thought, embarrassing to others besides the celebrant, when, in some cases, it appears doubtful of fulfilment ; and, in others, impossible wdthout the miraculous intervention of the Deity recorded in that of Ehsabeth, " well stricken in years." She Avas always at war with sacerdotalism, and LECKY 155 with the modern school of inascuhue women. Her best novel is, to my mind, Under ivhich Lord, though several others run it close. She died in 1898. It only remains for me to add that a more dehght- ful, and less exacting visitor it would not be possible to find. I was, when she came to Glashnacree, an extremely busy professional man, whose days were fully occupied by office work and travelling ; and this was the first long holiday I permitted myself to indulge in : it passed only too quickly. It was at Glashnacree, by mere chance, that I made the acquaintance of Lecky. I came upon him, one summer afternoon, standing at my gate, admiring the scenery. He was on tour in Kerry, and staying at Parknasilla Hotel close by. I invited him in, to look at the finest views in the neighbourhood, from rising ground at the back of the house. He had, he said, never seen anything finer, and became very chatty and pleasant. My womenfolk were out, and I had to do the honours at afternoon tea. I don't remember that he uttered anything brilhant, and, I'm sure, I didn't ; but I remember that he sat in the very lowest armchair in the room. The position seemed to reduce his body to the smallest proportions, exaggerating his ungainly limbs, and giving undue prominence to his feet, with a comical result which recalled Dickens' description of a stage coach vis-a-vis, who seemed to have " several legs too many and all of them too long." I told him how Sir 156 OMNI AN A Edward Sullivan (a late Master of the Roils) and I unknowingly competed at a book sale, for first editions of Rationalism and European Morals ; how 1 won, and how Sir Edward (who was a cUent of mine) made an ineffectual effort to wheedle me out of the volumes. The unassuming great man was amused ; but he could not understand the craze for first editions, as later ones often contained valuable additions and corrections. I explained that my predilections — and I supposed that of other book lovers — were for large print, good paper, and wide margins, which were often sadly lacking in reprints. I think Lamb says something to the same effect ; but I wasn't sure, and didn't quote him. There is a statue of Lecky in the grounds of Trinity College, which is, to my mind, an abomination. My next Hterary volume, after an interval of some years (I could only find time in the evenings, over my pipe, to write), was entitled John Orlebar. Leslie Stephen, at the time when the book was finished, filled the editorial chair of the Cornhill, and, somehow, from a knowledge of his books, I made up my mind that his judgment would be worth having, and would be given without fear or favour. I sent him the manuscript and waited patiently. After some weeks, the verdict reached me. Unfortunately I cannot find the letter ; but I remember the gist of it. He regretted that he could not accept the novel fo]- the Magazine, because he feared that portions riiolo: a. C. Betrxjord. SIR LESLIE STEPHEN, Facsimile oi' sir leswe Stephen's handwriting. LESLIE STEPHEN 157 of it would not be read with equanimity by some " old ladies among his coimtry subscribers " ; but, he would not return the manuscript till he heard from me whether I agreed to his strongly recommending its acceptance by Smith & Elder for publication in book form, as " the next best thing." I need hardly say that I gratefully accepted his of^er."^ Smith & Elder brought out the book, which met with even a warmer reception from the critics than the first work. See Appendix (C). A letter was written from the House of Commons by a gentle- man on the staff of the Morning Post, who said that he had been seriously interrupted in his work, in the reporters' gallery, " by the chuckling of a col- league over a book which turned out to be John Orlebar,'' etc., etc. The fact that a stranger took the trouble to indite this epistle, to an unknown author, was a pleasant surprise. Another equally crenuine tribute was that of a traveller to his com- o panion in a railway carriage, in which I occupied a seat. The eulogy need not be chronicled. I sat tight, and recalled the story told, under similar circumstances, of the inordinate vanity of the author of Ten Thousand a Year, whose name was on his titlepage, and who could not resist the tempta- tion to make himself known to the traveller who owned the book. At the first stop he let down * The facsimile of his writing is from a letter in reference to a review of one of his books by a Nonconformist periodical. 158 OMNIANA the window, sent a porter for the station-master, of whom he inquired whether a parcel had been received addressed to Samuel Warren, Esq. The train was delayed ; the parcel had not arrived ; " then would the station-master be so good as to forward it to that address ? " — handing him a card. The object was attained, and the author posed as a " lion " for the remainder of the journey, stared at furtively over newspapers, and whispered about by two old ladies, who would go home and tell how they had actually seen the writer of Ten Thousand a Year — a book undoubtedly and deservedly much talked of, though its success was not repeated. I give the story as I heard it. But the appreciation which I most valued, as brought about by John Orlebar, was that of Samuel Butler ; and, when I was afforded the opportunity of acknowledging his appreciation (conveyed through a friend), I let myself go in unstinted praise of his first book, Ereivhon, which I had purchased when it came out, and had read over and over again. We corresponded afterwards, about his other books. He writes on one occasion — " Such letters of appro- " bation from strangers do much to give me con- " fidence in the somewhat unequal combat in which " I have been engaged for some years, but with less " support outside the circle of my immediate friends " than I should have been glad to have had, though. " doubtless, with as nmch as I had any reason to ^■■1 ■ ^Pf I ^H 1 ^-^ J ^^I^^^^^^^^^^^^^HI^^^^^^^Vj^^ii^^^^^^l L ■ millHHiEb^ IL . . .^jhH PAo^j; .7. nmsclUt Sons. SAMUEL BUTLER. -^x -^ ^-' -- ^ '5— <^^ y";?.Ly?c TACSIMILE OF SAMUKL BUTLKR S HANDAVKITING. »^Sa^^ ^ ^5A^\ SAMUEL BUTLER 159 '' expect. Grumble, however, as I may, in this *' respect, I do nob doubt that I get on more com- " fortably, and do the Uttle I can do much better " for being, in many respects, somewhat of a faihire ; " I have no intention, therefore, of doing more than " I can help to disturb a position which suits me " on the whole, fairly well." The last paragraph is a bit cryptic, but probably would be easily ex- plained by something previously said by me. His books were not a financial success ; and of this he made no secret in his letters. The fact did not seem to disturb him over-much. Fame, as in the case of George Meredith, was slow in coming to Samuel Butler ; but he has secured his niche. I give a facsimile of his handwriting, and a reproduction of his portrait from a photo by Russell & Sons. I do not know the exact date of a little Christmas ])ook of mine, entitled The Young Idea.^ I have lost my first edition copy of it, which was probably borrowed, and not returned. But I remember an amusing fact connected with its bringing out. The manuscript was sent to Kegan Paul. It was accepted and in a fortnight or so, it came back to me, with a complete set of " proofs " and a polite note expressing regret that the firm was obhged to decline publishing. I could not account for this at the time ; but the hitch was, no doubt, owing to religious scruples, on the part of Kegan Paul. He had been a beneficed * I have just got date — 1881 — from Catalogue of London Library. 160 OMNI ANA clergyman of the Church of England, then an agnostic, tlien a follower of Comte, and finally a devout Roman Catholic. The little book was, to put it mildly, very broad Church ; and, probably he did not realise this till he came to read it in cold print, and was at the expense of " setting up." I forget who published the first edition ; but the second and enlarged edition was brought out by Field and Tuer. Andrew Tuer wrote to me sug- gesting that I should have it illustrated ; and I then communicated with the famous veteran, John Tenniel. His reply was that he had " altogethei- renounced " book illustrating, and devoted himself to painting. I pressed him again, offering, of course, his own terms, but in vain ; so I left the matter in the hands of Tuer, who got the work very well done by an artist of his own choosing ; and the book appeared in due time, brought out with the taste characteristic of that Firm, which, I am sorry to say, after the death of Tuer, ceased to exist. I give a portrait of Tenniel, by Russell & Sons, with a fac- simile of his writing. When he died in 1908 he had reached the ripe age of ninety-four. I think his best black-and-white work is to be found in his illustrations to ^sop's Fables ; but Alice in Wonder- land will keep his memory green — or rathei' his pencil will keep the memory of Alice green. In Appendix (D) will be found some press notices of The Young Idea. \ FACSIMniB OP SIR JOHN TENNIEL'S HANDWRmNG. I'hdto : J . Huxsell tfc Sons. SIR JOHN TENNIEL. MY OTHER NOVELS 161 My next effort was entitled Chronicles of Westerly ; and, when completed, there arose the question of what to do with it. I soon made up my mind to send it to Blackwood; s Magazine — ^that most famous of periodicals. The MS. went off to Edinbui-gh, and I waited for a couple of months or so ; then I ■s\n:ote, saying that though I feared disappointment I still entertained a hope. A reply came from the editor, stating that he had nmch pleasure in accepting the novel, and that a first instalment of " proofs " would follow. The success the book met with may be judged by some of the Press notices in Appendix (E). My business relations with this great publishing house were most cordial, and the pay, by the magazine, was splendid — indeed, from a pecuniary point of view, to " get into " Blackwood's Magazine means " money." The novel was reprinted in three volumes, and subsequently in one volume. A short story of mine, entitled Dream Tracked, complete in one issue of the Magazine, appeared some time after ; and 1 followed it up by sending another MS. entitled Doctor Quodlihet, which the editor accepted with a flattering letter ; but stating that he could not promise me a hearing for possibly two years, as his " serial " space was pledged for that time. I hadn't patience to wait ; and Field and Tuer brought it out in one volume. I leave the Press notices. Appendix {V), to speak foi' it also, and pass on. In 1887 I was (genealogically) greatly exercised in M 102 OMNTANA my iiiind about discovering the parentage of Captain Thomas Goddard — Nos. 13 and 14, Appendix (A) ; when, hearing of a Memoir of the Goddards of Wilts, by Richard Jefferies of Cote Swindon, 1 wrote to him, and got the Httle book which (of no assistance by-the- bye) was without pubhsher's name, and had no date. But it was the first work of a man who was destined to take a high place, for all time, in the ranks of the literary elect ; and is now a very rare book, and highly prized by collectors of his writings. His short life was as pathetic as his fame was rapid. Practically he had but eight or ten years to devote to the produc- t ion of his best works, The GameJcee'per at Home, Wild Life in a Southern County, The Amateur Poacher, Hodge and his Masters, Round About a Great Estate, Wood Magic, Life in the Fields, and five or six other equally well-known works; including fiction, among them that charming one, Amaryllis at the Fair, which indeed is not, strictly, a novel — being devoid of plot. Jeiferies was the son of a small farmer, and came of a race of farmers ; but tilling the soil was not congenial, and he took to reporting and to writing for the provincial Press, earning thereby a scanty subsistence, and struggling manfully against poverty and illness, till he was about twenty-five. From then on, he wrote, fighting against terrible physical prostration. He underwent four surgical operations for an internal complaint, recovering only to be prostrated again, by another ailment, which finally killed him, in 1887, I'/wto: LinKhni Stercoscupiv i'n KICHAKD JEFl'KKIES FACSIMILE OF RICHARD JEFFERIES' HANDWRITING. PJGHARD JEFFERIES 163 at the age of thirty-nine. He did not really begin to write the books that made him famous till he was about thirty, confronted all the while, as he says, by his three familiar " great giants, disease, despair, and poverty." What he did and how he did it, has been lovingly told by Walter Besant, in his Eulogy. There is no question as to his place among the great ones of literature ; it has been ungrudgingly assigned ; the pity of it is that his life was so short, and his sufferings so great. The portrait is by the London Stereoscopic Company, and the facsimile of his writing is from a letter dated Cote, Swindon, February 20, 1875, in which he says that he con- templated a second volume on the Goddards ; but this never appeared ; and he turned from what, no doubt, must have been the uncongenial pursuit of pedigree, to the study of Nature, which he loved so well, though he found her relentlessly cruel and un- pitiful. His Pantheism was indeed as chivalrous as it was profound. I MET many men of mark at Vernon Hill. Sir Arthur's circle of acquaintance was a large one, and included all the literary celebrities of note, many of whom were his guests from time to time. He was the most agreeable, genial, and non-assertive of 164 OMNI ANA hosts^ — a man " of infinite jest, most excellent fancy," and of admirable tact in dealing with even such discordant elements as Thomas Carlyle and George Hemy Lewes. Lewes was a frequent guest, and a great favourite with the household. The toleration shown to him by the sage of Chelsea, was that of a dyspeptic bear for the disrespectful playfulness of a sprightly terrier. But George Henry always struck me as the most all-round brilliant one in any gathering of literary men. He had great conversational powers, much verve, and was inimitable as a relater of good stories. Personally, he was " nothing much " to look at -a pug-nosed, deeply pock-marked, middle- sized man, who wore his light curly hair very long. Mrs. Carlyle was wont to speak of him contemptuously as " the Ape " ; but his vivacity fully made up for his want of good looks. There was something suggestive of German in his aspect and French in his manner ; but he was altogether English. His grandfather, Lee Lewes, was a highly popular comic actor and author of a readable book of Memoirs in four volumes (1805)."' George Henry himself for some time trod the boards, and appeared in such ambitious characters as Shy lock ; but, fortunately for literature, he was * By -the- bye, at page 47, vol. i of these Memoirs, occurs the observation, " He has two eyes, to be sure, but they are put into his head with dirty lingers." Twenty-two years after. Lady Morgan makes one of her characters say, '" Irish eyes, large, dark, deepest, and put in, as it were, with dirty fingers " — a clean case of theft of an idea for which she has, ever since, got credit as originator. riioto : Ellintt son James jfranhiin jfullcr. By tlio uiilverHol rauneul of PonttueuUI Europe, the ■" Seiec Quart lun ley have been the" opni, «eMTfi«"o( every prosenco-chamber or Boyally le Britiflli QOblllty vleldH to none other, and yet cx)inpaniUveIy npcakliig I to 8ixt«eu famlliea. TlUa is, and was at all lline«, considered n very rigor y high place at Forelsn 's VicUtUvda of Famil (8) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (S) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (19) (19) (20) (21) (22) v=AUboarkt. John Bi.>iK-=U: \^l,J'""" ,''.' '!"'< >'.TH01UB= WiN daUd j Ul^ " Peerage, ' liir (24) (85) (26) (87) (88) KJrIcbv Lous- I HlBIIKKT. XKRHAS8II ■oaaie, aiga i ildibiii oi loneir oi (See Hff dau. of . . __ lerlH of , Kerry (wni (ioorge \birt of Bleanerhiu- ' dole. (See John seraldof r his wife' Knight ot otCastie- 1 In Burkc'« nerhouettln 1 Bleunerlia*- ffranddnu. — n — 11. KcrrVj by Uland. ' "^ Landed Cumborlnnd. setfn IWllw^ lnHlcV»o,r; Kl.«c«id ■ Kerry Ho- (Yeltow Hevelloy Brewil«r, ir VrancU I BUHD (i »i-6, by bard^wffe I DepDljr su&eriai :Katoaiiiu Buhp, LL.D.. Jadoo ot PreroBotlvo Conrt, Dublin, Vloar- ).I7D0: proved lUAprlir ( Beech mouati^ELliABBTlt B i FBANKLIH PULLKB, I APPENDIX B SOME TRESS NOTICES OF CULMSHIKE FOLK " The careful and clever descriptions, brilliant dialogue, ^\ holesome sentiment, literary culture, and inlaid wisdom, make the novel a re- markable one." — Bridih Qnarlcrly Review. " Certainly a remarkable book. No one but a stupid person could fail to be charmed with it. . . . Lady Culmshirc is a conception that does the author credit, ^y this his hrst book he has made his mark." — Grapliic. " No one without reading tlic book can comprehend how Lady Culmshirc fascinates the reader." — Court Circular, " Lady Culmshirc, m truth, must take her place hi the hction of this age. No one within our knowledge has produced a character so carefully worked out. Altogether ' Culmshirc Folk ' is a novel which stands out in agreeable and high relief from the ordinary rmi of books of this kind." — Scolinnan. " The author of ' Culmshirc Folk ' most decidedly made his mark on the literature of the day by tlie book. He at one step took his rank among the leading novelists." — WcdmiiUiUr Review. "Contains a good deal of thoughtful writing, and at least one re- markable study of character — Lady Culmshire, kindly, worldly, tender, with a soft heart beneath the jx)lished breastplate she bears agamst Bociety — is a pleasant one." — Athcnccuyn. " The book is an able ironical gibbeting of some of the clerical and social customs of the day, which should shoot folly as it Hies, while the humorous touches are worthy of Hibernian soil." — Liverpool Albion. ''The remarkable thing ab(jut the book is, that one does not care about its story at all till the third volume is reached; and jet it is 291 292 OMNIANA charnting throughout. A very odd book ; one which never fails to be amusing."— .S'/;cc/a/or. ■ Agreeable incidents, pleasing conversations, and able sketches of character. Sprightly and animated. Cleverly written, and in a brisk and dashing style. The reflections arc verj' judicious, brief, and to the point."— J/or«iH{jr Pod. "Numerous health}' and hearty pictures, if ' Culmshirc Folk' is a hrst work it is certainly very promising."— J/a/tc/iciYcr Examiner. " \Vhcn the end of the third volume is reached the reader w ill have fallen quite in love ^vith her ladyship." — Illustrated Lmubn Ncivs. ■■ A clever and cnjoj-able book — one of the few that can be read a second time with the certainty of deriving more pleasure from it than on the first perusal." — Glasgow Herald. " Gives evidence of real ability. The story is mainly intended to bring out the character of Lady Culmshire, who is a fine studj', and worthy of all the pains the author has bestowed upon her." — Globe. ''As a reflection of the ]X,^oplc and maimers of our time, ' Culmshire Folk ' deserves the highest commendation." — Queen. " Generally good, and often excellent. Readers will look forward to a second work from the same bright and clever pen," — Daily News. " jMost interesting. The author may be congratulated on a book sure to be read by many, and liked by all." — Sunday Times. '■ If each chapter increases the eagerness to read, merit may be assumed." — Edinbunjli Couranl. " We hope this is not the last novel we shall sec written by ' Ignotus,' who, by the way, has no reason to be ashamed of his name." — Whitehall Review. " Lady Culmshire is one of those rare creations which a reader recognises at once as a perfectly possible indi\iduality — one that may be remembered as though it has an actual material existence." — Daily Telegraph. APPENDIX C SOME PRESS NOTICES OF JOHN OELEBAR " This is a clever book, overflowing with animal spirits, and good nature. It abounds in felicitous railler\' and allusion, and is now and then truly witty." — Contemporary Review. "We recommend 'John Orlebar ' to all our readers." — Wesiminster RevieuK "This book is one of the jtleasant surprises wherewith reviewers are at intervals blessed. . . . The dialogue is marvellous for aptness and wit. . . . When we add that there is not a dull page in the book, we have said enough to show that a writer of remarkable calibre lias showTi h i mself . " — Va n ity Fair. '• It is, like its predecessor, something out of the common. There is a raciness about it which will make it acceptable to most readers, and a j)leasant change from the conventional novel. "^ — Morning PoM. "' A study, vigorous and acute, of certain types of thought and culture, brought together with the deftest skill; and a combination of strength and rapidity of touch that are most enjoj'able. ' John Orlebar ' is especially different from other novels — there is not half enough of it." — Scotsman. "The author has not lost any of the incisiveness which marked the sketches of character in the former story. The love relations between .iohn and his cousin are delicately and tenderly handled, the important occasion on which they come together being a specially touching and natural scene." — Athenceum. "The author continues to give abundant evidence of thought and culture, and of keen a})preciation of character — ^particularly ol clerical character. The attraction of the book lies in its dialogue — thouglitful or humorous as the case may be." — Graphic. 29.'{ 294 OMNIANA "There are lively dialogtie, clever telling bits, keen piquant por- traiture, with oftentimes far-reaching insight, and withal an excellent tone throughout, that enables us to recommend ' John Orlebar ' without a drawback or a qualification." — Church Revieir. " The charm of a most readable book. We must commend one so carefully and pleasantly written." — Public Opinion. " It is long since we have enjoyed a novel as much as this one. The story is absolutely full of humour, and also deals some terrible blows at ecclesiastical fancies and foibles."- — Liverpool Albion. " ' John Orlebar ' is even cleverer than ' Culmshire Folk ' — more entertaining, more brilliant, more humorous, more incisive, and sagacious. Those who read first for amusement will be apt to recur to it again for the enjoyment in more thoughtful hours of its mingled wit and wisdom." — Spectator. " It is not often that one has the good fortime to come upon so well- written a novel. Bright, racy, humorous. The Bishop is admirably sketched, and so is the group of clergj'men of all shades of orthodoxy and honesty of which he is the central figure, and every word he speaks is c harac terist ic. ' ' — A cadeyny. " Realistic character-painting is his forte. All his former readers will be glad to visit Culmshire again. An admirable port rait -gallery ; teems with good sayings both witty and wise." — Globe. " A book that at once strikes the intelligent reader as being the work of one with a keen insight into the wondrous twists and turns of our many-sided poor human nature. Its fault is its brevitj-." — Sydney Town and Country Journal. " Its three hundred pages are full of good things." — Literary World. '"The author has won a recognised position in modern English literature. Rare gifts of humour and a graceful style." — Echo. " A capital collection of characters, true to human nature, whose sayings — sententious, grave, or witty — are all good." — World. " Original, forceful, and racy work." — Scottish Leader. "A brilliantly written and skilfully constructed novel." — Enropean Mail. " Once begim it is difUcult to lay down." — Manchester Examiner. " As a tonic for low spirits ' John Orlebar ' is one of the best." — Piiblishefs Circular. APPENDIX D SOME PRESS NOTICES OF BILLY; OR, THE YOUNG IDEA " ' Billy ' is one of the most chcarming books for children ever written. The hero of it, a little boy, is a philosoiDher in embryo. His questions about life, the lower animals, men and women and God, are astounding. The book, in its way, has flashes of genius. It is far more natural, more human, and more dramatic than Dickens' Carol. We congratulate the author of ' Chronicles of Westerly ' on having given the world a master- piece in child literature. The illustrations are excellent." — Westminster Review. " Readers who are interested in those very original books ' Culmshire Folk ' and ' John Orlebar ' will be glad to hear that the author has given another to the ]iublic — striking, bright, clever, and redolent of the soil." — Graphic. " A diverting story, fascinatingly idyllic. The author manages, as he has done in previous publications, to maintain imbroken interest from first to last, and to awaken but one regret — ^that the end of his book comes too soon." — WhiteMll Review. " It reveals a rare insight on the part of the writer. Can be imder- stood and relished by the smallest juvenile, and will serve to remind older readers of the fact that they were once children." — Scotsman. " A witty little book. Character-jDainting is the author's forte. Each individual is a well-thought-out study, and the humour has a meaning to be found beneatli the surface." — Simday Times. " There is much pleasant humour in the stoiy. The farmer's help- lessness in the hands of the sharp child who asks him puzzling questions is well described." — Manchester Examiner. " This little book is clever and amusing." — Queen. 295 296 OMNIANA " A sprightly story. Bright sketohes of childhood cloverly and genially dra\^ii. Racy and characteristic." — Smuhn/ Rtvinr. " A very amusing book." — Spectator. " The writer has here given us a very ])leasant sketch of a little lad, town born, who makes liis first acquaintance with comitry life. Little Billy Bunce is a veiy lovable child, and Farmer Stubbs and his wife , the ciiildless old couyjle, with whom he sjjends his Christmas-time, are very worthy i)eo|)]e. The various incidents are told with humour and si)irit, and the book is quite worthy the author's reputation." — Bookseller. " To make an inquisitive little boy the hero of a story that shall amuse adults is to achieve rare success. The difficulty is how to be inno- cent and child-like and ridiculous all at the same time, without being uimatural or absurd. The author of ' C'ulmshire Folk ' comes veiy near this high standard in ' Billy, a sketch for the New f'.oy, by an Old Boy.' The stoi'y centres round a talkative little fellow who is lent to a childless farmer and his wife for the Christmas holidays. The farmer and his wife are also true to life." — Yorkshire Post. "Many little folks will find a delightful companion in 'Billy, a Sketch for the New Boy by an Old Boy.' It is a smartly written humorous tale of a town boy's experiences and adventures at a farmhouse during Christmas-time." — Liverpool Co7irier. APPENDIX E SOME PRESS NOTICES OP CHE0NICLE8 OP WESTERLY "They are such good company that at the end ol" the third vohiine we would willingly have followed them through three more."— IlVs/- minsler Revieio. " Brilliant and epigrammatic to the very end ; good things literally stud the pages." — Vanity Fair. " The author's happy knack of describing persons and characters has not deserted him . . . some delightful portraits." — World. " As charming as a summer day's ramble along an imknown lane, rich in unexpected turns and windings." — Graphic. " A fund of observation and inexhaustible humour." — Daib/ Telegraph. " A book that has something readable and suggestive on every page." — Standard. " Keen observation and kindly humour." — Morning Post. " That very agreeable writer has added one more to the pleasant recits, which have so much of the Blackwood manner." — Neiv Reinew. '■ That the author is an exceedingly amusing writer is not to be denied by any or\e.''—Amdemij. " His soldiers and clerics are admirably drawn." — Covrt Circvlar. "Throughout pleasant literature. . . . lirilliant character sketch- ing." — Ohaerver. "A delightful story . . . wit, humour, and English pure and un- defiled."— ^c//o. " Xo less a word than charming is suitable.'" — TnhUt. 207 298 OMNIANA " A shrewd judgo of Imman nature. . . . Throp readable volumes." — ■ Alhenceum. " One of the most charming books of the season. It is impossible to lay it down half read." — National Observer. "One of the most brilliant novels of the present generation." — Figaro. " A very excellent novel, and one that should be read." — Sunday Times. " We have never read a story with greater pleasure. Unquestionably a delightful book." — Bnih Chronicle. " Appetising rather than acrid. Its undoubted literary merit should make it a success." — Court Journal. " Few books leave a more wholesome taste in the mouth. ... A gallery of lively and pleasant portraiture." — Literarij Opinion. " There is a breezy tone about it which to the sated reader of modem fiction will do good like a medicine." — Liverpool Post. " A charming provincial storj-. Talk at its best." — Daily Neivs, " In short these Chronicles will please manj' readers." — Army aiid Navy Qazette. APPENDIX F SOME PRESS NOTICES OF DOCTOR QUODLIBET " I recommend to you ' Doctor Quodlibet '." — Truth " A most lovable prelate."— 3fornj«;7 Post. " A brilliant novelette." — Daily Telegraph. " Heartily enjoyable." — Scotsman. " A charming story." — World. " A gracefully written book." — To-Day. " ' Doctor Quodlibet ' is a dear old fellow." — Leeds Mercury. " A delightful study in ethics." — Whitehall Review. " Very human and natural." — Church Review. " The bishop is a nice practitioner in ethics." — Saturday Review. " The bishop will win the affection of every reader." — Bookseller. " A clever character sketch." — Public Opinion. " A delightful old bishop. Much cause of grat itude to t he author.' Athenceum. " Piquant by reason of an undercurrent of titillating cynicism. Sheffield Independent. " A charming mixture of engaging qualities." — Hearth and Home. " Verj' racy and worth reading." — Birmingham Gazette. " It is a book pleasantly written." — Vanity Fair. " A fine healthy study of human nature under its nobler aspects. Academy. 299 ■li ■ 'I ( ft, or = ,t •ing, tit to Ten t- .for t I, ■k- ge ); ). his wife y ;hes lext Anna leadc I had RLES v^' L'UH10U« GENEALOGR^AL MEDLEY. AimA(uot Agnt Lieut. Jttiiiwi— K Man-of-War. Married Feb. 1 784 ; becaint.' MO involved in debt and cui sequent difi cutties that h mutber-in-lau undertook to clear off the liabilities on his signing a a=DouglBt«, Harriett^ 1 ; Duke of Pye Ben- B f Uauilton nett(Mi«. ri : nndBraii- Esten), w became munageresa of th chtlds ininoritv. and ' £1500 a year aft4>rward«. Mrs. Est^n is described by Boaden as " not lall hut graceful, and aware oE the months after the ivife Misa Hughes, Scott Wiring, Agent to West ! 1784, 2nd wife Mary Hughes = James, Luke of Hamilton. I =Jame8, Tl , Luke of fti Hamil- Pi 8m WiLUA»= Hamilton, Ambassador at Naples. Elizabeth, —James, =Loid Archibald Hamilton. al Lord Nklson, by v daughter away. See also 1 honour of the Prince Regent, and next morning she was found ' at foot of the grand con. againiit the Duke, but Lord ■ Kenyon de- , A daugbtor, married Darby Ann Douglass Hamilton, Had with other issue :^Vnna Coventry, Esq. She was bom 1797; married 1820 Maria, married John Rcade "lovely, amiable, and high- (as his let wife] L.ord of Ipsdcn, eu. Oxon., and had ly accomplished" (Kelly's R , and died without with other issue Charlks " Stage Reminiscences "). issue i844. Readk the novelist. =John Thurlow Laura Augusta Hast- Miss Uolmai Scott Waring, mgB Seott-Waring. married Rev. Per. dftu. by Man lost a leg at Gilfert, mu. Waterioo. ccvbI Frye. Charleston ', X 1825, managL ^ n APPENDIX H SOME ROYAL DESCENTS MATEKNALLY AND PATEKNALLY LEWIS LE DEBONNAIRE (son of CHARLEMAGNE by his wife Hildigaide of Swabia) married Judith the fair, and had CHARLES THE BALD KING OF FRANCE who Married Hcrmcntrudc daughter of VODON EARL OF ORLEANS and had Judith who married BALDWIN COUNT OF FLANDERS, and had BALDWIN LE CHAUVE COUNT OF FLANDERS, ob. 918, who married ELFRIDA daughter of ALFRED THE GREAT and had ARNULPH COUNT OF FLANDERS, ob. 9G5, who married Alisa daughter of HERBERT COUNT OF VERMANDOIS, and had BALDWIN COUNT OF FLANDERS, ob. 916, v. p., who had ARNULPH COUNT OF FLANDERS, ob. 988, who married ROSALIE daughter of BERENGARIUS KING OF ITALY and had BALDWIN COUNT OF FLANDERS, ob. 1036, who married Otigna daughter of FREDERICK COUNT OF LUXEM- BURGH, and had BALDWIN COUNT OF FLANDERS, ob. 1067, who married ADELA or ALISA, ob. 1079, daughter of ROBERT THE FIRST, KING OF FRANCE, and had Matilda who married WILLIAM THE CONQUEROR and had GUN- DRED who married WILLIAM DE WARREN EARL OF WARREN AND SURREY and had WILLIAM DE WARREN EARL OF WARREN AND SURREY who married Elizabeth daughter of HUGH THE GREAT EARL OF VERMANDOIS and had Adeline or Ada who married HENRY created EARL OF HUNTINGTON by King Stephen and had Margaret who married for her second husband Huinphrey dc Bohun and had HENRY DE BOHUN created EARL OF HEREFORD, 301 302 OMNIANA 1199, ob. 1220, who married lAIaud daughter of GEFFREY EARL OF ESSEX and had HUMPHREY DE BOHUN Ex\RL OF ESSEX AND HEREFORD who (went to the Holy Land in 1250) married .Aland daughter of the EARL OF EWE and had Humphrey dc Bohun who married Eleanor dc Breause iireat granddaughter of STROXGBOW and had HUMPHREY DE BOHUN EARL OF ESSEX Lord High Con- stable, ob. 1298, who married Aland daughter of Ingelram dc Fines and had HUMPHREY DE BOHUN EARL OF ESSEX who married ELIZABETH PLANTAGENET and had Eleanor or Alianor who married JAMES SECOND EARL OF CARRICK Seventh Butler and FIRST EARL OF ORMONDE, ob. 1337-8, and had JAMES SECOND EARL OF ORMONDE who married Elizabeth daughter of SIR JOHN DARCY by his wife Joan daughter of RICHARD DE BURGH EARL OF ULSTER and had JAMES THIRD EARL OF ORMONDE who married Ann daughter of JOHN LORD WELLES and had SIR RICHARD of Polcstown who married Catherine daughter of CrILDAS O'RIELLY LORD OF CAVAN and had SIR EDWARD BUTLER who maii'ied Catherine O'Carroll and had SIR JAMES BUTLER who married Sabina Cavcnagh and had PIERCE EICiHTH EARL OF ORMONDE who married Lady Margaret daughter of GERALD EIGHTH EARL OF KILDARE and had Lady Ellen Butler who married DONOUGH O'BRIEN SECOND EARL OF THOMOND and had a SON and DAUGHTER The son CONNOR O'Brien The daughter the Hon. THIRD EARL OF THO- Margaret O'Brien married MOND MARRIED Own}^c DERMOD SECOND LORD tlaughter of Turlogh Mac INCHIQUIN and had MOR- OBricn Ara and had ROGH THIRD LORD INCH- DANIEL O'BRIEN FIRST VLS- QUIN who married the Hon. COUNT CLARE who married Anabella or Mabel Nugent APPENDIX 303 the Lady Catherine Fitz- gerald daughter of GERALD SIXTEENTH EAPvL OF KIL- DARE and widow of Maurice Roach Lord Fermoy) and had CONNOR O'BRIEN SECOND VISCOUNT CLARE who married Honora daughter of Daniel O'Brien of Duagh and had the Hon. Honora O'Brien who married John Fitzgerald KNIGHT OE KERRY and had Maurice Fitzgerald KNIGHT OF KERRY who married Elizabeth daughter of David Crosbie of Ardfert and had issue Barbara Fitzgerald who married Bastable Herbert of Brewsterfield and had Arthur Herbert who married Barbara daughter of Emanuel Hut- chinson and had Lucinda Herbert who married Francis Christopher Bland D.L. of Derriquiu Castle and had Fanny Diana Bland who was mother of daughter of CHRISTOPHER NINTH LORD DELVIN and had MORROGH FOURTH LORD INCHIQUIN who mar- ried Margaret daughter of SIR THOMAS CUSACK and had DERMOD FIFTH LORD IN- CHIQUIN who married Ellen daughter of SIR EDWARD FITZGERALD of Cloyne and Ballymaloo and had the Hon. Honora O'Brien who married Anthony Stoughton and had Ellen Stoughton who married Thomas Blenuerhassett and had Martha Blenuerhassett who married Frederick Mul- lins of Burnham and had William MuUins who married Mary Rowan and had Mary Mullins (eldest sister of the first Lord Ventry) who married Capt. Thomas God- dard and had Louisa Goddard who married the Rev. John Blenuerhassett (Rector of Tralee) and had Elizabeth Blenuerhassett who married Capt. Edward Fuller and had Thomas Harnett Fuller father of JAMES FRANKLIN FULLER APPENDIX I KOYAL AND OTHEll DESCENTS PATEENALLY DUN'CAX THE FIR8T KING OF SCOTLAND was father of MALCOLM CANMORE KING OF SCOTLAND who married SAINT MARGARET OF ENGLAND and had DUNCAN THE SECOND KINCJ OF SCOTLAND who was father of WILLIAM EAIIL OF MORAY, PRINCE OF SCOTLAND, who married a daughter and coheiress of ROBERT DE RUxMELI LORD OF SKIPTON and had Annabella who married REGINALD DE LUCI LORD OF EGREMONT and had RICHARD DE LUCI who married Ada daughter and coheiress of HUGH DE MOR- VILLE * and had Annabella who married Lambert de Multon and had Thomas de Multon of Egremont who was father of THOMAS, BARON MULTON, who by his wife Eleanor had Elizabeth who married SIR ROBERT HARINGTON and had SIR ROBERT HARINGTON who married Mary Kirkby and had SIR JOHN HARINGTON who was father of SIR JOHN HAR- INGTON who married Agnes daughter of SIR RICHARD FLEETE and had John Harington who married Agnes daughter of SIR JOHN DE LAUNDE and was father of John Harington who married Catherine daughter of Sir THOMAS COLEPEPER and had Robert Harington who was father of John Harington, who by his wife i\lice, daughter of Henry Southell, was father of SIR JOHN HARINGTON who married Elizabeth daughter of Robert Morton and was * Uuc of tho four who asaadsinalcd Thomas a iJeckct. 301 APPENDIX 305 father of SIR JAAIES HARINGTON who married Lucy daughter of SIR PHILIP SYDNEY of Penshurst and had SIR HENRY HARINGTON who married for his second wife the eldest daughter and coheiress of JAMES PILKINGTON BISHOP OP DURHAM and had Ann who married SIR THOMAS ROPER VISCOUNT BALTINGLASS and had Ruth who married SIR EDWARD DENNY and had Elizabeth who married John Blennerhassett and had Ruth who married Thomas Blennerhassett and had Mary who married George Rowan and had Mary who married William Mullins of Burn- ham and had Mary Mullins (eldest sister of the first Lord Ventry) who married Capt. Thomas Goddard and had Louisa Goddard who married the Rev. John Blennerhassett (Rector of Tralee) and had Elizabeth Blennerhassett who married Capt. Edward Fuller and had Thomas Harnett Fuller father of JAMES FRANKLIN FULLER. INDEX Adamites, 139 Allen, Grant, 152 A?mnal Register. 278 Asgill, John, 122 B Baltinglass, I^rd, 108 Barry, Mrs., 22 Bennett, Mrs., 174 seq. Beresford, Capt. George de la. Poer, 202 Black and White, 169 Blackwood's Magazine, 161 Bland, Francis C, 6 , Rev. James, 6 , Capt. James Franklin, 22. S.T , Rev. \., 12 Blennerhassett, Elizabeth, 6, 21 Browne, Rev. Simon, 116 ?i. Buckle, H. T.. quoted, 129 Budd, Dr., 179 Builder, 145 Building News, 146 Burnel, Nicholas Lord, 222 Burton's " Anatomv of Melan- choly," 264 «., 267 Butler", Samuel, quoted. 143, 158, 279 , Sir William, 44 Calamy, Dr., quoted, 135 Calvert, Charles, 76 Carlyle. Thomas, 164, 235 Cattle houghing, 17 seq. Cellini, Benvenuto, 4 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 221 Chudleigh, Elizabeth, 232 Clarke, Samuel, 272 Clifford, Professor, quoted, 129 Colenso, Bishop, 124 Constitutional Press. 91, 95 Cook, John D., 1G7 Cornhill Magazine, 152, 156 Critic, 169 Croker, Richard, 33 Cromwell, Oliver, 113 D Dark Blue Magazine, 149 Day, Judge, 21 Deane, Sir Thomas, 42 De Morley, Robert, 222 Denny, Ladv, 108 De Salis, Cardinal, 266 De Saussay, 173 Dickens, Charles, 165 Donegal, Marquess of, 88 Doyle, James E., 67 Dwyer, Frank, 13, 30 E Easton's '"Human Longevity" quoted, 273 Echard's " History of England '" quoted, 1 13 Eliot, George, 165 307 30S INDEX Emmet, J. A., quoted, 271 Esten, Mrs., 175, 178 Exhav's Maga-.inr qnnted, 140, 26") 11. Fashions, 2^0 seq. Fitzgibbon, Lord Justice, 20l> Forl/ii(jhfI>/ Reviev, 92 Froudo, J. A.. 123 Fuller, (Catherine, 21 , Capt. Edward, 6, 21 , John, 35 , Samuel, 16 , Dr. Thomas, 105 f!pq., 270 , Thomas H., 25 sec/. , William, 5, 16, 215 G Garibaldi, S9 Oentlfmnn'.i Magazinr, 176 Gildea, Capt., 90 Goddard, Capt. Thomas, 6, 162 Godwin, E. W., 203 , George, 145 Gosse, Edmund. 28 Graves, Dr. Charles, GO Gregg, Rev. Tresham, 123 Grosvenor, Sir Robert, 220 H Hadfield, Mr., 87 Hales, Rev. John, quoted, 142 Halsbury, Lord, 268 Hamilton, Emma. Ladj', 179 Harcourt, Sir William, "280 Hartley, Colonel, 10 Hcatherington, John, 233 Helps, Sir Arthur, 59, 66 ?i., 164 quoted, 286 Herbert, Lucy, 6 Heylin, Dr. Peter, 106 Ho}J)es, Thomas, 266 ; quoted, 125?;. Home, R. H., 174 Hullah, John. 68 Humbert, General. 21 Huxlev, T. H., quoted, 124 Hyde,' Arthur, 24, 41 , Frederick, 27 lUuFt(mteil London Neivs, 89 Irish EcclesiaMiral Gazette, 119 Jetferies, Richard, 162 Jermyn, John, 9 Jenold, Douglas, 65 Jones. Horace, 80 , Mr., of Cl^-tha, 224 Joyce, Dr., 9 K Keogh, Colonel, 201 Kingsley, Charles, 126, 128 L La :\Iotte le Vayer, 173, 275 Lawder. Rev.. 201 Leckv. W. E. H., 155 ; quoted, 129 I^itrim, 3rd Lord, 211 L' Estrange, Sir Roger, quoted, 1 Lewes, Charles Lee, quoted, 177 , George Henry, 164, 235 Lightfoot, Dr., 120 Lindsay, Colonel, 113 Linton, Mrs. Lynn, 152, 168 Longevit}', 255 seq. Lucas, Rev., 200 Luttrell, Colonel, 232 INDEX 309 ]\l McCarthy, Daniel, 265 , Denis R, 143 McKenzie, Sir (George, 121 Malone, I\Ir. Justice, 20 IManning, Cardinal, 126 Martin. Archdeacon, 123 IMather. Rev. Cotton, quoted, 136 Meredith, George, quoted, 167 Moriarty, Dr., 62 . Teige, 16 ■\Iowbray, Regrave and Stourton, Lord, 6 V. Murphy, James, 32 Murseli, Rev. Ai-thur, 85, 86 n. N Neville, Sir Paul, 229 Newcastle, Margaret, Duchess of, quoted, 263 Newman, Cardinal, 126 , F. W., 127 Nicholas, Sir Harris, 221 O Oncp n Week, 148 Paine, T., quoted, 110, 138 Palmerston, Viscount, 130 Parker, J. W.. Jr., 68. 165, 167 , Rev. Theodore, 128 Paul, Kegan. 159 Payn, James, 151 Pearson, Sir Charles, 44 Phelps, Dr., 68 Pilkington, Bishop, 108 Powell, Jane. 179 Power, Frank, 207 Proclamation by Lord Lieut, of Ireland, 17 Pye, Admiral. 175 R Robins. Rev. Arthur, 95, 96 , Cieorge, 96 Roper, Hon. j\Iary, 108 Ross, R-ev. Alexander, c[uoted, 140, 141 Round, Dr. J. H., 251 Ruskin, John, 22S Russell, Lord John. 130 , Sir W. H., 91 S Satvrdajj Reriev, 166 seq. Scott, Sir Walter, quoted, 286 Scrope, Sir Richard, 220 Sewell. Dr. William, 123 Sim, Dr., 136 Smith, Alexander, 170 , Professor T. R., 81 Stanhope, 3rd Earl, 225 Stephen, Sir Leslie, 156, quoted, 129 Sullivan, Sir Edward, 156 Taylor, John, quoted, 262 Thackeray, W. ]\r.. quoted. 236 Times, quoted, 233 Toplady, Rev. Augustus, 121 Tree, Sir Herbert, 251 Trencli, Archbishop, 117 Truth, 149 Tuer, Andre\\', 160 V Vanity Fair, 98 Von Hoensbroech, Count, quoted, 112 n. Voysey, Rev. Charles, 124 310 INDEX w Ward, Mrs. Humphry. 250 Waterhonse, Alfred, 81 Welsh. Fatlier, r^9 scq. Wesley, Rev. John, 271 Whirlwind, The, 28."i Wilberforoe Bishop, 124 Wilkinson. Captain. 219 Wolseley, Txird, 4^ Words, misuse of, 247 Sfq. Wvnn, Hon. Rowland. 203 Yates, Edmund. 2.3.5 THE END PRINTKl) BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES. 5 .7^ M»i ; lBBftR~' F*91h'^ 000 040 234 7 I