'- 9 -

 
 TWO BOOKS OF REMINISCENCES. 
 
 Grain or Chaff? 
 
 The Autobiography of a Police Magistrate. 
 
 By A. C. PI.OWDEN. Demy 8vo, cloth gilt, with 
 Photogravure Frontispiece. i6s. net. 
 
 Harry Furniss at Home. 
 
 By HIMSELF. Fully Illustrated by the Author. Demy 
 8vo, cloth gilt. i6s. net. 
 
 LONDON: T. FlSHER UNWIN.
 
 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 BY 
 
 J. GEORGE TETLEY, D.D. 
 
 MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD 
 RESIDENTIARY CANON OF BRISTOL 
 
 LONDON 
 
 T. FISHER UNWIN 
 
 PATERNOSTER SQUARE 
 1904 
 
 (All rights reserved.)
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY MOTHER, 
 
 LOYAL, LOVING, BRAVE.
 
 
 IN the first part of this book I have collected some 
 fragments of family history as it was made in the 
 eventful years that closed the eighteenth century, 
 and during the earlier part of the century that 
 followed. 
 
 In the latter part I have told something of 
 various persons with whom the course of my life 
 has brought me into relation. 
 
 But I ask my readers very carefully to note 
 two things. 
 
 I have not written my own life, for indeed there is 
 nothing in the everyday story of an ordinary person 
 like myself to be told. Nor have I written of friends 
 that are alive. And this for an obvious reason. 
 To write of all would be impossible ; to make a 
 selection would be invidious. So scarcely anything 
 will be found as to those who are still with us. It 
 
 2067339
 
 vi PREFACE 
 
 is most needful to emphasise this point, as I can 
 otherwise well fancy the amazement of any who 
 know me, and may chance to read these pages, at 
 the absence of names that are to me in life, through 
 their love and their unmerited kindness, surely as 
 " household words." 
 
 J. G. T.
 
 Contents 
 
 PART I 
 WHILE OLD TIMES LAST 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES . . . 3 
 
 II. AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS ... 23 
 
 III. AN OLD-WORLD DIARY PARLIAMENTARY . . 43 
 
 IV. THE WYNYARD STORY .... 58 
 
 PART II 
 
 WITH CHANGE OF TIMES 
 I. TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES . . . -77 
 
 ii. AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS ... 94 
 
 III. TIVERTON . . . . . . US 
 
 IV. MAGDALEN . . . . .130 
 
 vii
 
 viii CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 V. OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES . . . .152 
 
 VI. LANHYDROCK . . . . .175 
 
 VII. CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE . . -193 
 VIII. BADMINTON . . . . , 204 
 
 IX. HENLEY , . . . . 222 
 
 X. HIGHNAM . . . . . , 233 
 
 xi. HIGHNAM (continued) . . . . .250 
 
 XII. NORTH WALES . . . . .264 
 
 XIII. BRISTOL ....*.. 279 
 
 XIV SUPPLEMENTARY . . . . .297
 
 PART I 
 
 WHILE OLD TIMES LAST
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 
 
 MY story begins with my great-grandfather, at one 
 time of Maisonette, on the banks of the Dart, and 
 of Catdown, 1 near Plymouth, who had lived chiefly, 
 I believe, at a house in the town itself, and there in 
 the year 1779 a very notable incident occurred, 
 with which I will begin my chapter of family 
 history. 
 
 At that time England was in far greater peril 
 than any then knew. What was known was indeed 
 bad enough. In the month of August a fleet of 
 French and Spanish ships, numbering some eighty- 
 eight sail, lay off the Sound. The English frigate 
 Ardent was cut out within the sight of a powerless 
 population, and numerous captures took place of the 
 fishing craft in Cawsand Bay. 
 
 The larger danger, most providentially averted, 
 1 This house was burned in 1801, and never rebuilt.
 
 4 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 was this. 1 Mr. Wynne had received into his house 
 as a very pleasant guest a foreign gentleman who 
 had brought, beyond doubt, irreproachable creden- 
 tials with him. One fine morning he was missing. 
 A letter, it is said, was left, expressing his 
 gratitude for the kindness he had received, and 
 pledging a full respect for the rights of hospi- 
 tality. This guest was none other than the 
 Comte de Parades, euphemistically termed a 
 " diplomatic agent," in plain English a spy, 
 who had turned his visit to admirable account. 
 Somehow he had managed to elude the vigilance 
 of those in charge of the Citadel and learn 
 (what was only too literally true) that the 
 magazines were empty of ammunition. With this 
 certain information he effected his escape from my 
 great-grandfather's house, and taking an open boat, 
 pushed out boldly to sea, and acquainted the French 
 Admiral with the depleted state of the stores. Had 
 his advice been taken, nothing humanly speaking, 
 could have saved our western naval depot from a 
 hostile occupation. 
 
 This is, to the best of my recollection, the outline 
 of a very remarkable incident as I have heard it 
 related from my early childhood. It may be open 
 
 1 Waggons were prepared, and all was in readiness for a flight 
 to Dartmoor, in event of the anticipated landing of the invaders. 
 My mother's father, born in 1776, was, I think, actually conveyed 
 to a place of safety.
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 5 
 
 to correction or amplification, but there is no doubt 
 that in the main this is a true account. 
 
 My great-grandmother was Sarah Arthur, whose 
 charming face has been perpetuated in the portrait 
 which was undoubtedly painted by Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, although (it is not a solitary instance) he did 
 not sign it. The marriage was one which was 
 destined to bring both, at the time and in far 
 distant days, a large measure of happiness with it. 
 
 Both their sons died unmarried, John Arthur, the 
 eldest, of the igth Light Dragoons, and Henry. 
 Thus the three daughters were eventual co- 
 heiresses, and of their families there is a good 
 deal to be told. 
 
 Here is a schoolboy's letter written from old 
 Blundell's by my great-uncle, as the eighteenth 
 century drew to a close : 
 
 " DEAR PAPA, I have sat down with a resolu- 
 tion to write a few lines to let you know that I am 
 well, and hope you and all the family are the same. 
 I left Mr. Herbert very well at Exeter, and I should 
 be glad if you will be so obliging as to send me a 
 couple of knots of twine. I should be glad if you 
 will desire Mr. Commins to write me a few lines. 
 I should be much obliged to you if you will write 
 me next Post. Remember me to all at Plymouth, 
 dear Papa. 
 
 " YOUR DUTIFUL SON."
 
 6 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 How pathetic in its formal phrases, and how 
 child-like in its plea for twine ! 
 
 Their eldest daughter, Mary Frances, married 
 Mr. John Hawker. A distinguished Peninsula 
 soldier, Sir Edmund Williams, K.C.B., became the 
 husband of her daughter Caroline, and of him the 
 following anecdote has been preserved. 
 
 He was in command, probably at Vittoria, of the 
 Fourth Cacadores (Portuguese). In the course of 
 the battle his favourite dun charger was struck by a 
 ball behind the ear. The horse fell with his rider, 
 who sprang off the ground, clear of the fallen animal, 
 and seized the horse of a French cavalry officer, 
 who had been thrown from his saddle. By his 
 main strength he succeeded in holding back his 
 new mount from answering the recall of the squad- 
 ron, and eventually got safely within the English 
 lines. " Oh, Colonel, where's the dun ? " was the 
 astonished greeting of his orderly, Nat Morgan, 
 who was greatly attached to the charger. " Left 
 him dead on the field," replied his master. The 
 following morning Nat appeared at the Colonel's 
 tent, with an invitation to follow him. He went, 
 and to his utter amazement there was the dun, as 
 well as ever. He had only been stunned after all, 
 and in the night had picked himself up and found 
 his way home. And when Nat was grooming him, 
 and pulling his ears, he discovered a bullet flattened 
 like a penny against the metal of his head-piece.
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 7 
 
 At the same battle Sir Edmund received a ball in 
 his shoulder. It was a very superficial wound, and 
 the skin formed rapidly over the ball. Many years 
 afterwards he was anxious to have it removed, as it 
 became an annoyance to him. He went to London 
 and consulted some eminent surgeon of the day, 
 who told him that the removal was a very slight 
 matter in itself, but that the greatest care would be 
 needed after the operation to avoid taking cold. 
 The ball was extracted, and all was progressing 
 favourably. Unfortunately on reaching Gloucester 
 during the return journey the weather was very wet 
 and stormy. In those days there was no railway 
 into South Wales, and the old campaigner, scorning 
 the inside of the coach, mounted the box, and so 
 travelled to Chepstow. A chill struck into the 
 newly-closed wound, and so the French bullet, 
 long after its discharge, was fatal in the end, for 
 the General died within a few months after much 
 suffering. 
 
 Sir Edmund's only surviving son was for very 
 many years a prominent figure among the clergy of 
 South Wales, doing strong and lasting work in the 
 earlier days of a Church revival. He attained a 
 great age, but his natural force was little abated. 
 Up to within a very short time of his death he was 
 actively engaged in drilling the parochial Church 
 Lads' Brigade, a movement in which he took the 
 keenest interest. His first curacy was that of
 
 8 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 St. Pierre and Portskewett, under conditions 
 which have long since passed away. " The sur- 
 plice " was the special charge of the housekeeper 
 at St. Pierre, and on one occasion a failure in the 
 laundry arrangements brought about a curious 
 crisis. The funeral of a member of the family was 
 about to take place, and my cousin was to read the 
 service. To his dismay the housekeeper met him 
 with the news that the surplice was not forth- 
 coming. He saw from the window that the pro- 
 cession was being formed, and he knew that there 
 was not a moment to be lost. Always resourceful, 
 as his many friends knew well, he said, " Give 
 me one of the very best damask table-cloths." 
 She did so, and he folded it nattily around 
 him, covering the gaps and deficiencies to the 
 utmost by pinning a broad black scarf over 
 them. He then sallied forth, keeping as far 
 in front of the cortege as he possibly could. 
 Nothing was remarked, and he wisely held his 
 tongue. 
 
 Years afterwards at a dinner party he told the 
 story for the first time. A guest heard it through 
 and then said, " Well, I was at that funeral, and I 
 saw you come out and head the procession in what 
 seemed to me a very strange garment, and I whis- 
 pered to the man walking by me, ' Look at young 
 Williams he has brought down one of the new- 
 fangled Tractarian things from Oxford ! ' ' The
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 9 
 
 funeral must have taken place in 1840, or 1841 at 
 the very latest. 
 
 Their son John married Mary Harris, of 
 Radford. With regard to this family, I may here 
 relate a very remarkable incident that took place 
 about 1833. 
 
 Some labourers in the adjoining parish of Brix- 
 ton, in destroying an old hedge, came across several 
 large silver bowls or dishes. They were imme- 
 diately claimed by two of the neighbouring gentry. 
 But as in neither case the title to possession was 
 clearly established, they agreed to send the plate, 
 on which there was visible some armorial ensign, to 
 the Herald's College for identification. And there 
 the plate was adjudged to belong to Harris of 
 Radford. It was then in regular form claimed, and 
 eventually obtained by the late Mr. John Harris. 
 Thus far the simple facts of the episode. The pre- 
 sumption is, that a former member of the family in 
 the Civil Wars, had to make good his escape to 
 save his life, and buried the plate before his de- 
 parture. And this is upheld by the epitaph in 
 Tywardreath Churchyard, which certainly com- 
 bines pathos, affection, and humour to a remark- 
 able degree. Such an inscription is a real find for 
 those who are curious in compositions of this sort. 
 I give it in its entirety ; and I think all my 
 readers, especially Devonians, will thank me for 
 doing so.
 
 io OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 " In memory 
 
 Of ROBERT HARRIS Esquire fometimes 
 
 Major-Generall of His Magesties forces 
 
 before Plymouth who was buried heere 
 
 vnder, the zgth day of June 1655. 
 
 And of HONNOR HARRIS, his sister, who was 
 
 likewise heer vnderneath buried 
 
 the i yth day of November 
 
 in the year of Our Lord 
 
 1653 
 
 Loyall, and Stout : thy Crime this, this thy Praise 
 thou'rt here with Honour laid, though without Bayes." ' 
 
 Their next daughter, Sarah Anne, a famous 
 beauty of her day, married Ralph Gore, of Bar- 
 rowmount, in County Kilkenny, formerly of the 
 33rd Regiment, and aide-de-camp to the Duke 
 of Wellington. She was painted by Hoppner, who 
 chanced to see her wearing her hat, and leaning on 
 a gate at Maisonette. Prints of this picture are 
 very familiar, and not long since it formed the 
 subject of a Christmas card. 
 
 My great-grandfather was exceedingly annoyed 
 that a stranger should have taken a sketch of his 
 daughter, and without his permission. His subse- 
 quent endeavours to avoid an unwelcome publicity 
 only resulted in the inscription of the portrait as 
 Sophia Western the initials of the subject being 
 thus retained. This picture has disappeared, and, 
 
 1 I am indebted for the epitaph to the Rev. S. B. Baker, of 
 Tywardreath.
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 11 
 
 up to the time of writing, the inquiries that have 
 been set on foot have proved fruitless. I am not 
 altogether without hope that it may yet be traced. 
 It is a curious illustration of the rapidity with which 
 a true history may be lost, and a false version hold 
 the ground, that among picture dealers it has been 
 currently held that the portrait is one of Hoppner's 
 own wife, or daughter. 
 
 And here I will insert the account, in the exact 
 words transmitted to me, of a most remarkable 
 circumstance connected with my great-aunt's 
 death. 
 
 "Colonel and Mrs. Gore had two sons in the 
 33rd Regiment, Arthur and Ralph. They were 
 both at the battle of Waterloo, where Arthur was 
 killed on the first day. As is well known, there 
 was no expectation in England of a great battle 
 at that time. Mrs. Gore was ill, and there had 
 been no news for some time, when one morning 
 she said to her husband, 'Arthur is dead he has 
 been killed.' Colonel Gore answered that there 
 had been no tidings, and it was not at all likely. 
 Then she described that in a dream she had seen a 
 white marble monument in Gore's Bridge church, 
 and the words ' To the memory of Arthur Gore, 
 who was killed at the battle of St. Jean, June 16, 
 1815.' 
 
 "It is remarkable that when the news first came 
 to England, the battle was called St. Jean, from the
 
 12 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 place where the first fighting took place, though 
 Waterloo was its title afterwards. 
 
 "Arthur was killed almost at the first, and was 
 buried by his comrades where he fell. When the 
 actual news arrived, the family did not put on 
 mourning, or say anything of the matter to Mrs. 
 Gore, who died shortly afterwards. She said, that 
 although they would not tell her, she knew Arthur 
 was dead, and she was going to him. A monument 
 was put up, as she had described, in Gore's Bridge 
 church." 
 
 The following details have been placed in my 
 hands since I began to collect these sketches of 
 bygone times : 
 
 " RECOLLECTIONS OF WATERLOO. 
 "By a Staff Officer. 
 
 " I was returning towards Headquarters, as the 
 Commander of the Army and his Staff are termed 
 in military language, when my attention being 
 attracted to a group of persons near the wood of 
 Bossu, I crossed over to see what they were about. 
 On getting near I recognised the red facings of the 
 33rd, and having some acquaintance with that 
 regiment, I at once rode up to the party, and 
 became witness of a most affecting and impressive
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 13 
 
 scene. On the ground was extended the tall form 
 of a departed comrade, covered by his military 
 cloak, round which were standing, bareheaded, 
 three or four officers. Two soldiers were leaning 
 on their spades, wherewith a shallow grave had 
 been dug. One of the officers was endeavouring 
 in broken accents to read our beautiful Burial 
 service. Another, the elder Gore, stood motionless 
 as a statue with eyes fixed on the cloaked mass at 
 his feet ; young Haigh, a boy of eighteen summers, 
 was crying like a child ; even the hard soldiers were 
 powerfully affected. I needed not to be told whose 
 body lay shrouded by the mantle its length, the 
 mourners, their grief, all told the tale but too 
 plainly. When the reader ceased, I cast an in- 
 quiring look towards Haigh, who, stooping, drew 
 back from the face a portion of its covering, and 
 as I expected, disclosed to my sight the pale and 
 beautifully chiselled features of Arthur Gore. Poor 
 fellow ! But two short weeks before, chancing to 
 pass through a village in which the 33rd Regiment 
 cantoned, I fell in with my old and valued 
 Marlow acquaintance, one of the finest and hand- 
 somest samples of the British youth in the service." 
 " That evening we had a joyous and harmless 
 carouse. We were all Marlow men the eldest 
 of whom was scarcely twenty who only three 
 years before were contending at football in the 
 college field. Alas ! how changed the scene, when
 
 14 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 between two great and hostile armies, the same 
 individuals were engaged in committing to the 
 earth the body of him, who had once been the life 
 of the party. What must the anguish of that fine 
 lad's mother have been, when the sad tidings 
 reached her, that all her fond hopes had thus been 
 nipped in the bud. I waited to see the last shovel- 
 ful of earth piled over his remains, dropped a tear 
 upon the grave, and departed. This melancholy 
 incident not only affected me greatly at the time, 
 but made a lasting impression on my mind hence, 
 whenever Quatre Bras is mentioned, I always see 
 before me most vividly depicted the touching scene 
 I witnessed by the side of the Bois de Bossu." 
 
 (From the Albion of November 13, 1847.) 
 
 " Alas ! my brothers ! Ralph never spoke of the 
 above scene with calmness, and always described 
 his first seeing his brother lying dead covered with 
 his cloak, just as if asleep, as the greatest shock he 
 ever had for Arthur had been left behind the 
 regiment in charge of the baggage and sick, and 
 Ralph did not know he was on the field on the 
 1 6th until he saw him dead. Arthur, on hearing 
 the firing, had got a horse and galloped up in time 
 to form in square with the regiment and receive his 
 death-shot in the brain, which did not even displace 
 his grenadier's cap, and he lay perfectly unaltered. 
 I recollect their talking frequently of young Haigh
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 15 
 
 to an old officer of the 33rd. Our poor mother 
 never lived, as you know, to hear the news from 
 human lips, and yet she told me Arthur was killed 
 before she died. Little did I expect after so many 
 years to meet the scene so vividly described in a 
 newspaper. What a beautiful drawing might be 
 made of it ! Our brothers were both so very hand- 
 some. Arthur was not nineteen, Ralph not quite 
 twenty at the time. S. A. GORE." 
 
 The late Miss Longley once gave me the follow- 
 ing account of a chance meeting with a near 
 relation of Colonel Gore. It was certainly a 
 strange coincidence that under the circumstances 
 they should have been thus thrown together. 
 
 "In the year 1863 my father, my sister, and 
 myself were at the Schweizerhof at Lucerne. A 
 lady sitting next my father at the table d'hote intro- 
 duced herself as having been born in the same 
 house in which he was born. She then explained 
 that she was a daughter of Sir John Gore, who 
 lived at the time of her birth at Rochester, in a 
 house called Satis House, which had belonged 
 formerly to my grandfather, John Longley, then 
 Recorder of Rochester, where my father was born 
 in 1794. 
 
 "The house was called 'Satis House' because it 
 was said that Queen Elizabeth had once dined 
 there, and having finished she said ' Satis ! '
 
 16 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 " The lady who thus introduced herself was Mrs. 
 Powys-Keck, then a widow travelling with her 
 stepson. 
 
 " 'Satis House' is still, I believe, to be seen near 
 the old bridge at Rochester, but now divided into 
 two houses." 
 
 Colonel and Mrs. Gore had a considerable family. 
 One of the daughters, Mary Pitt, became Mrs. 
 Ryland. Her son, together with his bride, was 
 lost in that mysterious and awful calamity, the 
 utter vanishing of the City of Boston from the 
 face of the deep, so that none to this hour know 
 what befell her. 
 
 It is worth noting at this point that a relation of 
 my wife's, Roger Eykyn, who was at one time in 
 the House of Commons, and well versed in all 
 political chat, told me a few years ago that the first 
 news of Waterloo was published in St. James's 
 Square, where the house of the Minister then was. 
 I much regret to say I have forgotten the number. 
 The same account is given in Mrs. Bagot's most 
 interesting " Links with the Past." 
 
 Prince William Henry, afterwards Duke of 
 Clarence, and eventually William IV., was a very 
 frequent guest in one or other of my great-grand- 
 father's houses during his times of residence at 
 Plymouth. I have in my possession the first 
 frank he wrote as Duke of Clarence. It is on a 
 letter addressed to my grandmother when a girl
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 17 
 
 at school. His special admiration was given to 
 her sister, afterwards Mrs. Gore, whom he con- 
 stantly honoured by selecting as his partner at 
 the various assemblies. His Royal Highness's 
 room at Maisonette is still pointed out. 
 
 Amongst the papers that fell to my share is the 
 following holograph addressed by Admiral Lord 
 Nelson to the Prince. It was in very poor condi- 
 tion, and I have to express my grateful recognition 
 of the courtesy shown me by the Curator of MSS. 
 at the British Museum, under whose direction the 
 document has been admirably restored. 
 
 "ExMOUTH, April 22nd, 
 
 " MY PRINCE, I arrived here a few days ago, 
 and purpose, no accident happening, paying my 
 humble duty to your Royal Highness on Friday 
 next. I hope to see you in that good health which 
 I most sincerely wish. Report says the Andro- 
 meda is very soon to sail for the Newfoundland 
 Station, but the westerly wind, even if report says 
 true, will (not ?) permit me to be in good time, nor 
 indeed do I see what good end can be answered 
 by your arrival at Newfoundland or America when 
 all the harbours are froze up. The latter end of 
 May is full time enough, I think, for any business 
 to be done. We are here in the height of summer. 
 No fires and all the windows open. Captain Pole, 
 who I saw at Bath, has promised me a bed. I 
 
 3
 
 i8 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 take for granted he is arrived before this time. 
 Pringle, I fear, has been unsuccessful. He was 
 two days at Bath, but meant to attack Mr. Herbert 
 again on his getting to London, but " Hold fast" is 
 his motto, therefore nothing can be done ; but 
 indeed, my Good Prince, my sense of your kind- 
 ness is to full as much as if successful, being with 
 the sincerest esteem, 
 
 " Your faithful 
 
 " HORATIO NELSON. 
 "His Royal Highness 
 
 " Prince William Henry." 
 
 I may here remark that battle and fire have both 
 done considerable damage to the records of our 
 branch of the Wynns, and altogether I may 
 congratulate myself on what has been preserved 
 from almost wholesale destruction. 
 
 The child to whom the future King sent his 
 first frank as a Royal Duke was destined to a 
 series of crushing and tragic sorrows which she 
 bore with a beautiful resignation. After terrible 
 reverses of fortune, she died in 1842. Her hus- 
 band, William Langmead, was the son of Philip 
 Langmead, at one time Member for Plymouth, of 
 whom I shall have more to say later on. My 
 grandfather's mother was Elizabeth Clark, of the 
 (now) Efford family. Her son was born in 1776, 
 when she was in her forty-second year, and he lived
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 19 
 
 till 1872 thus the lives of mother and child covered 
 a continuous space of 138 years ! Years, too, it may 
 be noted, of the most signal interest in European 
 history. He was, as I have said, amongst those 
 who were conveyed out of Plymouth to Dartmoor 
 in the invasion panic of 1779. The authoress of 
 "John Halifax, Gentleman," was a guest in his 
 house on the day that he reached the age of ninety. 
 She wrote the following exquisite lines in com- 
 memoration of the day. By the courtesy of 
 Mr. G. Lillie Craik, and the publishers of Good 
 Words, I am able to present them here to my 
 readers : 
 
 " Ninety years ninety years ! 
 
 We, smooth travelling 'midst our peers, 
 
 With a careless onward tread, 
 
 Look at you, so far ahead, 
 And wonder how life's road appears 
 At ninety years, at ninety years : 
 
 If the journey had seemed long, 
 
 If the days when you were young 
 
 (Nigh a century ago ! ) 
 
 Ever come in silent show, 
 With their forgotten smiles and tears, 
 To the calm eye of ninety years. 
 
 Little the young mother knew 
 On the day she welcomed you 
 To our old, new, wondrous world, 
 How your hair, then softly curl'd, 
 
 Would whiten neath the hopes and fears 
 
 Of ninety years full ninety years !
 
 20 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Yet that unknown lady sweet, 
 Who once guided your small feet, 
 Watch'd the dawning soul arise 
 In the pretty infant eyes 
 Might smile, content, from happier spheres 
 Upon her 'child' of ninety years. 
 
 Gentle spirit, brave as true, 
 Freshen'd still with all youth's dew, 
 Merry heart, that can enjoy 
 Simply, fully, like a boy : 
 Fear not, though close the shadow nears, 
 At ninety years, at ninety years. 
 
 So when he at last shall come 
 The good Friend who whispers ' Home '- 
 May he come as tenderly 
 As babe-sleep on mother's knee ! 
 And after so prays love with tears 
 Not ninety, but a hundred years." 
 
 My uncle, George Winne, a man most loving 
 and beloved, survived him but a single year. He 
 was educated, in common with many other Devon- 
 shire boys, at a formerly famous school at Buck- 
 fastleigh. It was a very severe ordeal ; the 
 flogging days were in their fullest force, and the 
 bullying by the bigger boys was of an odious 
 character. As children, our blood ran cold at the 
 stories he used to tell us of his early experiences. 
 In later life he was greatly amused at an appeal 
 which reached him to contribute to some object
 
 AS THE EIGHTEENTH WANES 21 
 
 in the parish " in memory of his happy school- 
 days ! " 
 
 My mother used to relate her recollection of the 
 stormy Reform days in this wise. She, together 
 with her cousin, Lucy Byng, was going down with 
 Lord Torrington to the House, when an attempt 
 was made to rabble the carriage. It must have 
 been, I think, on that memorable day in 1831 when 
 the King came down to the House and, by an 
 arranged coup de main, dissolved Parliament. 
 This was due to an error, as the mob mistook it 
 for a Bishop's equipage. The Bishops, sad to say, 
 were extremely unpopular at that time, and only 
 one prelate Grey, I think, of Hereford was in 
 his place as a supporter when the royal assent was 
 given to the Bill. There is a most interesting 
 engraving of this memorable scene, which is now 
 not often met with. A daughter of Sir John 
 Mowbray told me that after her relation, Bishop 
 Gray, of Bristol, had given his adverse vote on the 
 Reform Bill, he left the House with the Duke of 
 Wellington on one side and another Cabinet 
 Minister on the other, as a kind of bodyguard. It 
 was, for one anxious moment, a position of peril, 
 but the party were soon extricated, and reached 
 Westminster in safety. There, from a window of 
 the House, my mother witnessed the angry tur- 
 moil that prevailed. I am enabled to corroborate 
 the date through a coincidence. I have always
 
 22 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 understood that my grandfather was tenant of 
 one of the first houses inhabited in Connaught 
 Square. The Square dates, I believe, from 1830, 
 and the following year saw the culmination of the 
 Reform excitement.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 
 
 SIR GEORGE ARTHUR'S life has been so admirably 
 written, not only in the "Dictionary of National 
 Biography," but also in the " Heroes of the 
 United Services," by the pen of one who knew 
 his family well, that there is little or nothing that is 
 new to be said. He was eminently a soldier-states- 
 man, a man of rare qualities, distinguished in his dual 
 calling. His refusal as a young officer to fight a 
 duel, followed by the intrepid offer to ride on an 
 errand of almost certain death under the fire of the 
 enemy, struck the keynote of his whole career. 
 The enterprise was carried through, and the message 
 so urgently important was delivered, but the escape 
 was of the narrowest, and the last part of the 
 desperate course was completed in all the suffering 
 and exhaustion caused by a severely wounded arm. 
 He has been called a " Christian stoic," and probably 
 no words could more accurately describe him. His
 
 24 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 record of work in the service of his country is one 
 of the most exacting and almost uninterrupted 
 toil. On four different occasions he united the 
 offices of Governor and Commander of the Forces, 
 and that in spheres so widely varying as Honduras, 
 Van Diemen's Land (where he completed a double 
 term of office), Upper Canada, and Bombay. What 
 demands such a combination of responsibilities en- 
 tailed, may be gathered from the fact that he would 
 constantly work standing at his writing-desk for 
 some fourteen hours a day. As with other men 
 of commanding gifts, he was "before his time," 
 to use a common phrase. The confederation of 
 the Australian Colonies half a century since was 
 a subject much in his mind. What a delight it 
 would have been to him had he seen not only 
 the bringing of this to pass, but also the mother 
 and her daughter lands so closely united during the 
 anxious months of the South African campaign ! 
 I may be allowed to quote some words written at 
 the time of his death, " that it is a credit to this 
 country that the highest civil offices are open to 
 men of the services, and it is no less a credit 
 to men of the services when, like Sir George 
 Arthur, they attain them by their well-recognised 
 meritorious exertions." 
 
 His daughter Catherine, the dauntless and true- 
 hearted wife of a great English Pro-Consul, the 
 late Sir Bartle Frere, was called at an early age
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DA WNS 25 
 
 to bear her part in supporting the burdens of 
 public life, and for the many years that followed 
 her girlhood's employment of writing from her 
 father's dictation, until her husband's death, to 
 discharge a long succession of responsible duties 
 under the constant gaze of the world. She was 
 characterised by a tireless activity, a sympathy 
 wide and deep, a caution and consideration in 
 dealing with whatever she had in hand that 
 became an actual instinct. What Lady Frere 
 was as a woman may be gathered from her 
 labour of love in India on behalf of our native 
 sisters. It was her high ambition, as it became 
 her undisputed glory, to fulfil her calling as a 
 woman, a leader in all that adorns a woman's life 
 in her house and in society, cultivating her own 
 proper gifts. A remarkable testimony to their sense 
 of this was borne by the address which accompanied 
 the presentation of a fine portrait of Sir Bartle 
 from the ladies of Capetown and the district. 
 
 It was a dreary day without, and the rain fell 
 heavily from the darkened sky when she was laid 
 to rest in that honoured grave where her husband 
 sleeps in the crypt of St. Paul's Cathedral. 
 Yet the gloom of the cold and early spring was 
 but as the setting and the frame of the hope, high 
 and bright, that belongs to the close of a life 
 lived Christianly and nobly. And none who took 
 part in the stirring scene within those historic
 
 26 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 walls, who followed the procession as it wound 
 its way under the dim arches and listened to the 
 strain of age-long faith and expectation, is likely 
 to allow the fading of the impression from his 
 mind. 
 
 The subjoined notes, which have reference 
 chiefly to the more public side of Lady Frere's 
 life, were given me by her daughter, in response 
 to a request I made for some particulars of that 
 nature : 
 
 " My mother was the second daughter of Sir 
 George Arthur. She was born February 26, 
 1820, at Belize in British Honduras, of which 
 her father was at that time administrator. I 
 don't think she retained any recollection of Hon- 
 duras, and must have left it very young, as her 
 father was appointed Governor of Tasmania, where 
 he remained, I think, ten years, after which he was 
 sent as Governor successively to Upper Canada 
 and to Bombay. 
 
 " To all these places Sir George and Lady 
 Arthur took their family with them, except when 
 some of the boys were left at school in England, 
 and my mother grew up in the constant com- 
 panionship of her parents, to be all the help and 
 comfort that an elder daughter, and all the help and 
 example an elder sister can be in a large family. 
 They were twelve in all.
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DA WNS 27 
 
 "As the years went by she became more and 
 more the constant companion of her father. Her 
 rapid and beautiful handwriting (to which a 
 Secretary of State once paid the compliment of 
 hoping my grandfather would bequeath his private 
 secretary to his successor!) and her tact and dis- 
 cretion made her most helpful to him as his most 
 confidential private secretary. 
 
 " On him and on her mother her loving nature 
 lavished a most dutiful affection which was beau- 
 tiful, even when in the closing years of her own 
 long life it was only the fragrant memory of days 
 long gone, and from them both she inherited that 
 absolute simplicity of religious conviction which 
 always marked her. Being of very bright and 
 lively disposition, and with a light, graceful 
 figure, she was fond both of dancing and riding, 
 especially the latter, and was a very fearless rider. 
 She had great taste, too, both for music and 
 drawing, and played the piano very well as a 
 girl. We have now some beautiful flower- 
 paintings of hers all that remains of a large 
 collection of her drawings lost by shipwreck in 
 1862. 
 
 " Being so constantly with her father it happened 
 twice that she was the unconscious cause of his 
 providential escape from assassination during his 
 government of Upper Canada, when the Canadian 
 rebels and American sympathisers had set a price
 
 28 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 on his head and bribed assassins to get rid of him. 
 On one occasion she persuaded him for a change 
 to ride by a different road from the one by which 
 they had daily gone for their usual exercise. It 
 was not known till afterwards that that very day 
 assassins were waiting at a spot they expected him 
 as usual to pass. 
 
 "The other occasion was more dramatic, when, 
 late at night, she was writing to his dictation, and 
 the handle of the door was turned once or twice 
 hesitatingly as by some one intending to enter. 
 My grandfather, who was walking up and down 
 the room, stopped and said, ' Come in.' An 
 orderly appeared at the door, and my mother 
 always remembered the look that appeared in her 
 father's face, and the voice in which he commanded 
 the man to "put that down," at the same time 
 lifting in one hand a small chair by which he was 
 standing. The man instantly, almost mechani- 
 cally, laid down ' that ' a pair of pistols and 
 fled. ' Ring the bell, Kate,' said my grand- 
 father, and she flew to the bell-rope, scarcely 
 realising what had happened, while he hurried 
 after the man, soon joined by staff and servants 
 aroused by the bell. The would-be assassin, an 
 orderly employed in the house, got off, though 
 challenged by the sentry ; but I have heard that 
 in his box were found letters from the sympa- 
 thisers bribing him to shoot the Governor. His
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 29 
 resolve was evidently shaken both by finding Sir 
 George so fully on the alert, and by the presence 
 of the young girl in the room. 
 
 "It was at Bombay that my father and mother 
 met. Sir George Arthur's private secretary had died 
 from a sunstroke on the voyage, and he resolved 
 to appoint a member of the Bombay Civil Service 
 on the spot, so he looked up a memorandum which 
 Lord Clare, a former Governor, had given him 
 before he left England, giving his estimation of 
 various civilians, in which he spoke so highly 
 of the character and abilities of Mr. Bartle Frere 
 that Sir George resolved to send for him, and sent 
 for he was from the Deccan, where he had then 
 been Secretary to the Revenue Commissioners 
 about eight years a momentous message for 
 him in more ways than one. 
 
 "It was rather more than two years after her 
 arrival in India that my mother married, and my 
 grandfather lost, as he expressed it, both his 
 private secretaries in one day. 
 
 " From that time no woman ever more com- 
 pletely filled the role of ' helpmeet,' identifying 
 herself with all my father's duties and interest, 
 public and private. I think hers was the most 
 completely feminine nature I ever knew. With 
 much eagerness of disposition, a quick under- 
 standing and perception, a great influence with 
 others she never sought a role for herself,
 
 30 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 so the history of her life is the history of 
 her husband's career, with which she identified 
 herself so completely, without ever an attempt at 
 interference, at managing or contriving things for 
 him, which so often is the bane of the clever wife 
 of a public man. Her sole aim was to supplement 
 his work, and his trust in her judgment was as 
 implicit as his confidence in her manner of carrying 
 out his wishes. 
 
 " I do not think her life held an aim or interest 
 apart from his, or in later years those of her 
 children. She never in her life made a speech 
 or put herself in the front of any public movement, 
 but the circumstances of his appointment placed 
 her nearly always in the principal position in the 
 society of whatever place they were in, and where- 
 ever they were, her influence made itself felt for 
 good, not only by direct help and encouragement 
 of all good works, but by the steadfastness with 
 which she set herself against all lowering of the 
 tone of 'society. In India she worked hard and 
 successfully to encourage the education of native 
 ladies and bring them out of their isolation, and 
 it was during my father's governorship of Bombay 
 that Hindoo ladies of rank were first induced to 
 appear in English society. 
 
 " Circumstances obliged her to be absent from 
 him in two great crises of his public life, during the 
 Indian mutiny, when he had just returned to Sind
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 31 
 
 and she happened to be still in England, and during 
 the Zulu war, when he was in Natal and she in 
 Capetown. Both times in the midst of the greatest 
 anxiety the whole force of the powers was bent to 
 ensure nothing being lacking to him needful for his 
 work and with untiring energy she worked to 
 ensure no delay in his views being known to the 
 authorities at home. During the Mutiny, knowing 
 how anxious he was that to save time re-inforce- 
 ments should, if possible, be sent out overland, she 
 urged the matter with such persistence on the 
 Board of Control through my father's old friend Sir 
 George Clerk, a member of the Board, that at last 
 a small detachment was sent by way of experiment, 
 through Egypt the first time l that British soldiers 
 were sent to India by that route, I believe. 
 
 " At the time of the Zulu war communication with 
 Natal was extremely slow, and she at Capetown 
 assisted my father as no one else could have done, 
 transmitting to the authorities at home by each mail 
 the confidential telegrams he sent down, of later 
 date than his dispatches, as well as other latest 
 news from Natal, and telegraphing up to him the 
 mail news from England. Her presence too in 
 Capetown and the manner in which she kept 
 Government House open, and took the lead in all 
 movements of public service for the help of the 
 
 1 This may possibly be open to some question.
 
 32 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Colonists and the troops, was of the utmost value 
 in the way of encouragement and example for all 
 around. 
 
 " Need I say how she whose sympathy and help 
 had been so much to her husband, in his career of 
 success and distinction, bore herself in that time of 
 adversity and calumny, which was the really greatest 
 moment of his public life? 
 
 " Need I say that at the Cape, where his name 
 is reverenced as that of one of the few Governors 
 who ever thoroughly understood South Africa, and 
 of all of them the most hardly used and the most 
 completely vindicated, the name of Lady Frere is 
 still, after twenty years, a household word? Fittingly 
 she rests with him beneath the dome of St. Paul's 
 in the heart of the Empire." 
 
 Sir George Arthur's sister Elizabeth married 
 Captain Raynor of the Royal Navy. Their son 
 John was a young clergyman of the highest 
 promise. He was Vicar of Tamerton, and served 
 as Chaplain to my grandfather when High Sheriff 
 of Devonshire in 1828. The following year he 
 died suddenly, and the very remarkable circum- 
 stances connected with his death are given in the 
 following, written a good many years ago, at my 
 request, by my aunt, Mary Frances Langmead. 
 
 "You ask me to give you the particulars of Mrs.
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 33 
 
 Raynor's remarkable dream, and I will do so to the 
 best of my recollection, which I think is clear on 
 this point from the impression the circumstances 
 made at the time. The sympathy felt for Mrs. 
 Raynor was extreme, and was never forgotten by 
 those who knew her and her son. 
 
 " John Raynor was asked by his friend Mr. 
 Phelips of Montacute to spend a few days and 
 preach for him on the Sunday. He started on this 
 journey in good health and spirits, and there was 
 nothing to cause the least anxiety in the whole 
 thing. After preaching and spending the evening 
 with his friend, he retired to his room, and the next 
 morning was found dead in his bed. 
 
 " On the morning of his expected return home, 
 Mrs. Raynor said to her sister Miss Arthur, ' Oh ! I 
 am thankful the last day is come, for I shall not 
 dream that dreadful dream again.' Each night 
 after her son left her she dreamed that a funeral 
 arrived at the Vicarage (Tamerton) trimmed with 
 white, and that a coffin was taken out, and carried 
 through the back doors into an open window in the 
 house. 
 
 " Instead of her son's return, however, Admiral 
 Arthur (her brother) came out from Plymouth to 
 break the sad news to her. The moment she heard 
 he was there she said, ' You need not tell me 
 anything, I know my son is dead.' Your mother 
 was sent for to stay with Mrs. Raynor, who was 
 
 4
 
 34 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 much attached to her, and your grandfather also 
 
 went to Tamerton to see if he could be of use. 
 
 " It was by his suggestion (I have always been 
 told) that the arrangements were made which 
 exactly corresponded with the dream of which he 
 had never heard. To spare Mrs. Raynor as much 
 as possible, the back gates were opened and 
 fastened back (it was not the usual entrance) and 
 the study windows opened so that no sound should 
 be heard, and the coffin was carried in precisely as 
 she had dreamed." 
 
 In sending for my mother under such circum- 
 stances of exceptional distress, undoubtedly a wise 
 step was taken. She was a brave woman, with 
 a clear head, and much presence of mind. It must 
 have been not far from this time that her courage 
 was called out in a very remarkable way. The part of 
 Devonshire where her home was had been infected 
 by a determined gang of housebreakers, and a great 
 deal of alarm had arisen. Their raids were the 
 subject of constant talk, and some precautions in 
 lonely places were in all likelihood taken. One 
 night my mother, then a girl at home, was awakened 
 by a singular noise which, as she completely gained 
 consciousness, she recognised as the working of a 
 file. In a moment she understood what it all 
 meant, and that the dreaded crisis had really come. 
 At once her resolution was taken. She got up and
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 35 
 
 made her way (nearly the whole length of the house, 
 I believe) to my grandfather's room. In order to 
 do this, she had to pass so close to the scene of 
 operations, that she could hear the voices of the 
 marauders. There was some difficulty in rousing 
 her father, but at last he was made aware of what 
 had happened. Taking his pistols, he summoned a 
 footman who had talked largely of what he would 
 do if the thieves ever came. That worthy, 
 however, acting on the theory that discretion is the 
 better part of valour, carefully locked himself into 
 his own room. The gang took alarm at the 
 movement that had begun within the house, and 
 made off. Their departure was accompanied by the 
 discharge of a gun from the safety of his bedroom 
 window, by this gallant member of the garrison. 
 
 The high character and the saintly lives of some 
 who were prominently associated with the Plymouth 
 Brethren, about this time made a very deep impres- 
 sion in Devonshire. Many who did not quit the 
 Communion of the Church were largely influenced 
 by the movement. As an instance of the effect 
 produced I may mention that a relative of my own 
 declined to attend the Assize Ball at Exeter, 
 although her own husband was the High Sheriff. 
 
 This quickening of religious earnestness owed a 
 great deal to two or three Oxford graduates who 
 were in Holy Orders. One of them, probably then 
 the only survivor, I can personally recall. And it
 
 36 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 is well worth recording how warmly and earnestly 
 the old man spoke in appreciation of Canon 
 Liddon's sermons, that preacher being then at the 
 zenith of his ministry. 
 
 Sir Andrew Leith Hay, who married Margaret 
 Clark, of Buckland, had a varied and notable career. 
 Early in life he went out to Spain with his uncle, 
 General Leith, and served as his aide-de-camp 
 through the Peninsular war, of which he wrote a 
 brief, soldierly and most readable history, which 
 may still be obtained. He took part in the storm- 
 ing of St. Sebastian, after which fortress his 
 successor was named. Subsequently he sat for 
 many years in Parliament, and was for a time 
 Governor of Bermuda. How he was at last taken 
 prisoner in Spain, and how he was released on 
 parole, with all that followed, should be read in his 
 own most interesting narrative. 
 
 My cousin, Colonel Leith-Hay, of the 93rd 
 Highlanders, was a soldier of most singularly 
 good fortune. He took part in both the great 
 campaigns of the Fifties, the Crimean war, and 
 the Indian mutiny, and escaped without a single 
 injury. He is one of the three mounted officers 
 shown in the famous picture, " The Thin Red 
 Line." At the storming of the Begam Kotie he 
 was the first man through the breach in the wall, 
 at the spot where the cross-fire of the enemy was 
 such that it seems incredible that any one could
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 37 
 have escaped. He brought away a cockatoo from 
 Lucknow, which still flourishes at Leith Hall, and 
 summer by summer greets the visitors to that most 
 hospitable house with remarks more or less appro- 
 priate. It may have been the result of long 
 campaigning, or the existence of a remarkable taste 
 for fruit, that made him on occasions independent 
 of any other article of food. A story was told of 
 him in my childhood that, arriving late at Efford 
 one evening, he refused the offer of having dinner 
 brought back for him, and made his meal from 
 apples and pears excellent, beyond doubt, in that 
 charming Devonshire nook, but hardly suited, one 
 might have thought, for the purpose. 
 
 I add to this a few extracts from my great-grand- 
 father's letters to his wife, written in London during 
 the summer of 1789. He anticipated, by the way, 
 the later term of " the little village " as a synonym 
 for the Metropolis, by speaking of it as " this little 
 market town." 
 
 He dates from " Joe's Coffee House, Mitre Court, 
 Fleet Street." 
 
 The following amounts as subscriptions to a well- 
 known race meeting in Devonshire seem curiously 
 small: "I have wrote Mr. Stroud as Steward of 
 the races at Totnes, to subscribe one guinea for 
 H.R. the Duke of Clarence, and half a guinea for 
 myself." 
 
 Here is a singular ending to a letter, sufficiently
 
 38 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 inclusive : " Love and compliments to every one 
 as due." 
 
 May 26tk. " I hope to be present in the House 
 of Lords this day to see the Duke of Clarence take 
 his seat there. I lost five hours on this matter 
 yesterday." 
 
 The following will be ol special interest to my 
 Bristol friends: "Am going with Cruger to the 
 House of Commons to hear the speeches of the great 
 man respecting the slave-trade." 
 
 This is of more general and historic significance : 
 " To-morrow I shall attend Hastings' trial, the 
 Duke of Clarence having given me tickets for that 
 purpose." 
 
 His Royal Highness was generous in the matter 
 of sending newspapers to my great-grandmother : 
 " I have ordered the address of the daily papers to 
 be altered in the manner the Duke of Clarence 
 chooses to have it. And I have ordered the World 
 to be discontinued " (so there was a World in 
 1789!) "and two other papers to be sent in its 
 stead. So that you will in a few days receive 
 these daily papers instead of two as at present. I 
 reminded the Duke to withhold this expense, but so 
 far therefrom that he said it should be augmented 
 and continued so long as they were anyways enter- 
 taining to any of my family." 
 
 He continues : " This duel of the Duke of York 
 with Col. Lennox is a bad piece of business."
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DAWNS 39 
 
 This is an amusing comparison and contrast : 
 " Sally (afterwards Mrs. Gore) and the party she 
 was with at Mt. Edgcumbe seem to exceed the 
 folks here. Only these dance all night, the West- 
 country people all day." 
 
 And here we have a poor opinion of Metropolitan 
 postal arrangements : " The letters in general are 
 carried so late to Vaughan's that in future be 
 pleased to direct to me at this house. For 
 instance, I presume there will be a letter from 
 you by this post, and had it been directed 
 here, I should have had it early in the morning, 
 and now it is 5 o'clock, and I have seen nothing 
 of it." 
 
 And a bit of home thought : "As I said, I shall 
 attend to all the rest, particularly to my dearest 
 Mace, who with Harry I hope is good, and mind 
 their learning." 
 
 On June 3rd he was preparing for a Court 
 function the next day : "I am now waiting at Joe's 
 for a letter of instruction from St. James', respecting 
 a silk bag for my hair, sword, ruffled shirt, stock, 
 buckles, etc., etc., and what carriage is to take me 
 to Court to-morrow night." 
 
 And now it is the newspapers again : "You have 
 falsely accused me of stopping the newspapers. It 
 was Elphinstone did it, and Farquarson's Clerk 
 told me yesterday that he said he did it by order of 
 H.R.H., which must be false, and could only pro-
 
 40 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 ceed from his own Scotch economy. I have ordered 
 
 the papers to go forwards as usual, and Pole has 
 
 confirmed my order yesterday by a letter from St. 
 
 James'." 
 
 This is a curious expression : "I also think 
 
 Mr. and his mother behaved very comical." 
 
 Some Devonshire names come in : " Symons, 
 Mrs. Woollcombe and daughters were at 
 Ranelagh." 
 
 And this is a name more famous everywhere : 
 'The two Kembles must spend a lot of money 
 here." 
 
 There is an unfavourable political comment : 
 " The Duke hates Billy Pitt, and has heartily 
 joined his two brothers. The Queen's conduct 
 does not suit with their way of thinking." 
 
 The ministry of the Church, unhappily, is viewed 
 much as a provision : " He proposes the pulpit for 
 Henry." 
 
 The state of George III.'s health in this year 
 (1789) gave rise to an extraordinary miscalculation : 
 " Entre nous, the King cannot live, he is certainly 
 going fast." 
 
 Here again is an allusion to the trial of Warren 
 Hastings : " I am this instant returned from 
 Hastings' trial. I had the honour of a seat in 
 Westminster Hall this day in the Royal Family 
 seat." 
 
 In the next letter we find a name justly cele-
 
 AS THE NINETEENTH DA WNS 41 
 brated at this present time : " Capt. Pole took me 
 yesterday to pay my respects to his brother 
 Carew." 
 
 One more mention of the King's health may be 
 of interest : " He is constantly sleeping, and the 
 fox-glove is prescribed for him." 
 
 I find another allusion to the great trial : "I am 
 to have a peer's ticket to attend Hastings' Tryal 
 again." 
 
 He dines with the Prince of Wales : " According 
 to the orders, appeared before His Royal Highness 
 in my fine Cloaths at 6. Louis was ordered to 
 show me the sword presented him at Barbadoes, 
 the diamond star, etc., value at least five thousand 
 guineas, the orders of the Garter, the Thistle, etc., 
 and when the Duke was ready he carried me in his 
 own carriage to Carl ton House, where at 8 o'clock 
 I dined with the Prince of Wales, the Duke of 
 Clarence, and the following company Lord Lons- 
 dale, Lord Craven, Lord Eggledon (?), Major 
 Hanger, Colonel Lowther, Mr. Penn, Mr. Sheridan, 
 and Capt. Payne." 
 
 Again, I find a further and more particular notice 
 of Warren Hastings' trial : " I had the honour of 
 sitting some hours yesterday in the Royal Family's 
 box at Westminster Hall to hear [name uncertain] 
 on the tryal of Hastings. But I got nothing by 
 that, as Lord Camden's Son-in-law has exchanged 
 hats with me, taking a new one for a very old
 
 42 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 shabby one, he left behind him. However with 
 the assistance of Nepean I hope to recover my 
 property, the hat thus left for me was so 
 shabby that Nepean was obliged to furnish me 
 with one."
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY PARLIAMENTARY 
 
 IN this chapter I give extracts from my other great- 
 grandfather's diary during the time he represented 
 Plymouth in the House of Commons. He con- 
 gratulates himself on his comfortable position as 
 regards his constituency, in contrast with that of 
 some others : " How pleasant is my seat, perfectly 
 secure from any petitions ! " His style will be found 
 somewhat condensed and obscure, as the entries 
 were doubtless only intended for private reference. 
 But on the whole his meaning is clear, and some of 
 his allusions are not without interest. He took his 
 seat during Addington's administration, Pitt taking 
 office for the second time the year following. 
 
 "1802 Mr Marshall's 
 
 for one month 
 
 "Took my lodging for one month at No 21 
 Bridge Street, Westminster, at ^i n 6 per week
 
 44 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 commence Monday 22nd November 1802, & fire 
 @ is. per day. It was on Saturday 27 Inst the 
 time I came to my Lodging 2Oth December 1802 
 
 pd 4 weeks @ i n 6 6 6 
 
 Pd 23 days fire i 3 
 
 7 9" 
 
 Many modern members of the House would be 
 thankful to lodge on the same terms during the 
 Session. But, at any rate, they are spared the 
 following outlay, moderate though it be : 
 
 " The hairdresser commenced Monday the 29 
 November 1802 @ 45. per week, dressed every 
 day . . . find my own Powder and Pomatum." 
 
 This next entry of the time taken by a journey 
 from Plymouth to London is interesting. It 
 may be noted that in 1774 Burke reached 
 Bristol from Malton in Yorkshire (by incessant 
 travelling), a distance of 270 miles, in forty-four 
 hours. 
 
 " Set off from Plymouth 
 Friday, 12 November 1802 
 at Salisbury J past 9 the I3th 
 arrived at Fitzroy Square 
 Sunday night I4th Inst."
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 45 
 
 " 1802. HOUSE OF COMMONS. 
 
 " 1 6 November. 
 
 "Attended Tuesday 16 at u o'clock, the Lord 
 Steward in the Privy chamber swore the Members 
 (P. L. one of the Commissioners to swear in 
 Members after the Lord Steward left the Chamber) 
 returned to the House, took our seats, and at 
 2 o'clock we went (after being summoned by Sir 
 Frederick Molyneux) to attend the Lords and 
 heard the Ld Chancellor deliver a message from 
 the King to choose a Speaker, we returned to the 
 House, Sir William Scott rose to propose Mr 
 Abbott he spoke in the most handsome manner of 
 the abilities of him the last Session, seconded by 
 Mr Lascelles, after a short speech from Mr Abbott, 
 a cry of Chair, Chair, he was conducted by Sir 
 William Scott & Mr Lascelles to it, made a 
 speech & moved the adjournment to 10 o'clock 
 next. 
 
 " Paid i n 6 for the votes of the House &c." 
 
 "Wednesday the iyth of November 
 " House met at 2 o'clock Sir Francis Molyneux 
 attended the House of Commons requesting the 
 Members attendance in the House of Lords to hear 
 the message from the King approving the choice of 
 a Speaker, the Ld Chancellor finished his speech 
 the Speaker claimed the priviledges of the 
 Commons such as the freedom of speech &c
 
 46 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 &c the Ld Chancellor said his Majesty will 
 always grant to his faithful Commons all the 
 priviledges which they usually enjoyed, and he 
 had it in command from his majesty to declare 
 it. Speaker & Members returned to the House, 
 they were called alphabetically in counties, the 
 Letter D took in Devon, Plymouth members were 
 called, (Sir William Elford not appearing, P. L. 
 was sworn four times,) delivered in our qualifica- 
 tion viz : 
 
 " ' The Land Tenements and Hereditaments 
 whereby I make out my qualification to serve 
 as a burgess in this present Parliament to be 
 in the parish of Bigbury in the County of 
 Devon. 
 
 " ' And I do declare my estate in the same to 
 be of the Annual value of three hundred pounds 
 above reprizes. 
 
 " ' PHILIP LANGMEAD.' 
 
 " This was sworn to and paid the customary fees 
 2s. the Clerk of the House of Commons presented 
 each member to the Speaker. Shook hands, gave 
 each other joy, bowed & returned to my seat. 
 Note several members were sent back, their 
 qualifications not made out in a proper manner, 
 the Speaker, "those Honble members cannot be 
 sworn, they must go and get Copies if they do not
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 47 
 
 know how to make out a proper one," Order was 
 then called, the Speaker informed the House that 
 he was prevented by law, from Swearing members 
 after four o'clock, adjourned to 10 o'clock next day.* 
 
 "Thursday 18 November 
 continued swearing members 
 
 19 
 Do 
 
 20 
 Do 
 
 and so continued to Tuesday the 23rd Inst, when 
 Sir Francis Molyneux appeared at the Bar of the 
 House of Commons with a message from the King 
 commanding the Commons to appear in the House 
 of Lords to hear the speech from the Throne. 
 The King read it very distinct, loud & manly, 
 the Commons returned, and the Address being 
 moved and seconded, a long debate took place, 
 Mr Fox spoke well & much to the purpose, 
 Wyndham held on for i| hour to little purpose, 
 house adjourned at -past 12 o'clock, nothing to 
 eat from breakfast to that time." 
 
 Some of our modern experiences in the Legis- 
 lative Chamber seem to have been anticipated by 
 what follows : 
 
 "Wednesday 24th. The same debates continued 
 to little or no purpose.
 
 48 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 "Thursday 25th. Swearing Members, went to 
 the House a few Members only with the Speaker, 
 I retired to the Committee room to write my 
 Letters, at half past two the Speaker sent for 
 me to come down to make a House, when I 
 entered it he called out 36, Messengers were sent 
 to get four more (Sir Fredk Molyneux appeared 
 with one of the Lords at the Bar to inform the 
 House that the King had appointed three o'clock 
 to receive the address). It was read over, the 
 Speaker and 35 Members carried it to the King. 
 
 " Friday 26th. Swearing members. 
 
 " Saturday 2/th. No house. 
 
 " Sunday 28th. Went to St. Margaret's Church, 
 Westminster, sat in the Members' seat. 
 
 " Monday 29th. Petitions agt returns. Bribery 
 in the Elections ; several other Petitions delivered. 
 
 " Tuesday 3Oth. Several pettns delivd agt 
 Elections, the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 moved for the 50,000 seamen for three months be 
 continued for one year, unless circumstances offered 
 so to enable a reduction." 
 
 The next item is of a more personal character ! 
 
 " Bot 12 Bottles of Old Port for which I 
 paid Bellamy & Co. 2 45. 
 
 " Wednesday, ist December, 1802. The 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer moved that the 
 50,000 seamen, including 12,000 marines, voted
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 49 
 
 for 3 months, may be voted for one year, 
 referred to the Committee of the whole House 
 agreed. 
 
 "Thursday, 2nd December. Report of Com- 
 mittee 50,000 granted Chancellor of Ex- 
 chequer moved for supply for the year, and that 
 it be taken into consideration to-morrow, and that 
 the whole House resolve itself into a Com- 
 mittee granted that 5 million of Exchequer 
 Bills by a loan for 1803. 
 
 "Friday, 1802. Committee of the whole House 
 on ways and means, Chancellor moved a grant on 
 malt, cyder, and perry, the duties on Pensions, 
 Personal Estates, sugar &c. He then moved a 
 grant of 5 millions on Loans and Exchequer 
 Bills, the malt &c was agreed to, the motion of 
 loans, Excheq. bill was also agreed to, motion 
 to be followed up on Monday. . ." 
 
 In the next paragraph is his further mention of 
 Fox, and also of Napoleon. 
 
 "Army Establishment voted for one year 17,250 
 Cavalry, 66,574 Infantry, including Ireland and 
 India, long debates by the Opposition parties, the 
 Glanvill Ld. Temple & Wyndhamites also the 
 Foxites (?). Sheridan spoke in favour of the Motion, 
 after all that was said by each party, it appeared 
 the opposition (Fox excepted) they all want a 
 change of administration, that they may succeed 
 
 5
 
 * 
 50 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 them in office, but I hope not one of them will 
 succeed, there never was a Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer more fair, candid, and economical, 
 honest man, and one that not only wishes to save 
 the Country but to lessen the expenses & taxes 
 than he does ; at the same time not wish or 
 desire for war, but to keep a watchful eye on our 
 Enemy the fr Consul, and to endeavour to keep 
 pace with him in the Armament of this Country 
 in proportion to that of the Enemy. Note Lord 
 Temple is Wyndham's buffoon [I do not know how 
 this unfavourable comment came to be made]. 
 
 "Thursday, 9th December. The Army esti- 
 mates brot forward after long debates the 
 whole was agreed to, ordered to report to-morrow 
 the 5 million Excheq Bills, the Malt duty 
 bill, & the Pention were forwarded through Com- 
 mittees of the whole House, Irish Militia Bill read 
 a third time and passed, after the whole gone 
 through they broke up at one o'clock. 
 
 " Friday loth. This day met the Rt Honble 
 the Lord Mayor Sir John W. Anderson Bart, 
 Mr. Burdon, and others of the Committee Room 
 to consult on the business of the Ship owners, 
 respecting the Petitions, and of the delivery in the 
 House of Commons, I presented the Plym. 
 petition. The mode of Presentation set your 
 Name on a Sheet of Paper, stating the Petition, 
 which is given to the Speaker ; he then calls,
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 51 
 
 * Mr. Langmead ! ' My Answer, ' A petition, Sir, 
 from the ship Owners within the port of Plymouth.' 
 He then says, ' State the purport of it ; ' my 
 answer praying redress on the Tonnage duty on 
 Imports and Exports, he then moves that this 
 petition may be brought up as many as are for it 
 say Aye, those of the contrary opinion say No ; 
 the Ayes have it. He then says, ' Please to bring 
 it up ' then rise from my seat with the Petition in 
 my hand and go half way down the House, turn 
 my face to the Speaker, bow, and carry it to the 
 Table, then move that it may be read. The Speaker 
 puts the question to the House in the same manner 
 as bringing it up ; I then rise to move that the 
 Petition do lie on the Table, bow, & retire to my 
 seat sundry other Petitions presented." 
 
 Here we begin on Irish affairs. 
 
 "Tuesday i4th. Mr. Corry brought forward a 
 Motion and moved to bring in a Bill for the expor- 
 tation of seed Corn from England into Ireland for 
 the use of improving the grain in that country. I 
 objected to that motion unless the quantity was 
 limited, and the Exporters entered into a bond to 
 forfeit treble the value in case a Certificate on oath 
 was not produced of the said corn being used for 
 seed only, and that the Bond so given should not 
 be cancelled untill such Certificate on oath was pro- 
 duced to the satisfaction of such persons to whom
 
 52 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 the Bond was given, on which a long altercation 
 ensued between Mr Corry and myself; he then 
 produced the clauses of the Act he intended to 
 introduce, and said he should be happy to sit down 
 to-morrow and receive any suggestions of mine, and 
 make such amendment as I should think right 
 present, the Speaker, his Majesty, & not more 
 than six members besides the Navy estimates 
 gone through etc." 
 
 The following paragraph has a special interest, 
 as his family became allied with that of the then 
 Prime Minister, many years afterwards. 
 
 " Wednesday the 5th. Waited on Mr Addington 
 by appointment to present the Memorial of the 
 Merchants of Plymouth, to have the Port included 
 in the Bill for warehousing Bonded goods etc he 
 promised the Memorial & my application should 
 have his consideration. Navy estimates gone 
 through, the Bill appointing commissioners to 
 enquire into irregularities, frauds, and abuses of 
 the Navy, and the Dockyards also to enquire 
 into prize agents, several debates on each side of 
 the house, the importation bill & exportation of 
 malt into Ireland & of importation of malt into 
 England subject to the English duties, also the free 
 importation of grain from Ireland." 
 
 In the next paragraph there is an allusion to 
 some long-forgotten complication.
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 53 
 
 "6th December. Mr R. Fuge called on me 
 this day & requested to be introduced to Mr 
 Vansittart. I evaded it as much as possible & 
 told him that I had delivered the Memorial, & 
 taken every possible measure to facilitate the busi- 
 nes, & that Mr Addington had promised me the 
 memorial and that my application should have his 
 consideration, he still said he much wished it. 
 R. F. called on me before I read my son William's 
 letter ; Mr Fuge and myself dined this day with 
 Mr Webber, I left him there at f past three & 
 said I must go to the House, am jealous some plan 
 is afoot, and an Intrigue between Sir Billy and him- 
 self, am of opinion they want to get a new Act of 
 Parliament & to disfranchise the rights & privi- 
 leges of freemen, the Bill to appoint Comm. to 
 enquire into the irregularities, frauds and abuses of 
 the Navy, was moved. Some amendments, the 
 Names of the Commissioners were demanded to be 
 named, then the names were mentioned." 
 
 "Dec. 17. And other routine of business, the 
 Commssrs were altered to Sir Charles Morrice 
 Pole, Bart, vice Admiral, Hugh Leycester, Esq, 
 Ewan Law, Esqr (Welsh Judge) John Ford Esqr, 
 Captain Nicholls of the Navy, long debates among 
 the old & young lawyers concerning the exten- 
 sion powers given to the Commissioners, some 
 amendments made in the Bill, which is to be 
 referred to a Committee of the whole House
 
 54 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 to-morrow, returned a list of 40 members on East 
 India judicature. 
 
 "On the third reading of the Bounty Bill on 
 exportation of sugar a Debate ensued but the Bill 
 was carried without division, the commission bill for 
 correcting abuses in the Navy &c passed & 
 carried to the Lords for their concurrence, Sir 
 Francis Burdett, agreeable to his motion given on 
 Saturday on a breach of privilege of the Hse, 
 brot forward his charge against Mr Blackborn 
 & Mr Thornton, the first as Chairman of the 
 committee the latter as Deputy, of a Club held at 
 the Crown & Anchor Tavern for entering into a 
 subscription to support the petition of a Member, 
 Mr Manwaring. After a debate of several 
 Members Sir F. B.'s motion was negatived & 
 clearly proved any member might if he pleased 
 subscribe to the petitng person without it being 
 deemed breakg on the privileges of the House." 
 
 " 27 December. Mr Sheridan gave notice of 
 his seeing in some public prints signed by five noble 
 peers, in his opinion a high breach of the privileges 
 of that Hse, he felt it his duty early after the 
 recess to call the attention of the house on the 
 subject." 
 
 So, in 1802, the House sat over Christmas. 
 One rather conjectures what would be the feelings
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 55 
 
 of honourable members now, under similar circum- 
 stances. 
 
 "4th March, 1803. Mr Calcraft brot for- 
 ward a Motion respecting the Prince of Wales, to 
 appoint a committee to enquire into the state of the 
 Prince's affairs, the House having previously voted 
 ,60,000 per annum as also .13,000 the income of 
 the Duchy of Cornwall to him, after long debates 
 the house divided on the motion 139 against it. 184 
 majority 45 of course the motion was lost." 
 
 It does not transpire how his constituents viewed 
 his conduct in the next respect : 
 
 " 16 March, 1803. P- L. presented to His 
 Majesty an address from the Freemen and in- 
 habitants of the Borough of Plymouth, on the 
 Providential Discovery of the late Conspiracy 
 against His Person & Government. P. L. was 
 presented to His Majesty by Lord Galloway (Earl) 
 who asked me if I wished for knighthood, as it was 
 His Majesty's pleasure to confer it on me. I 
 replied that I thanked His Majesty but I must de- 
 cline that honour." 
 
 And here we meet for the first time with the 
 name of Pitt as Fox's great rival : 
 
 "This 23rd May the Message from his Majesty was 
 taken into consideration, Mr. Pitt supported the
 
 56 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 war & administration the Debate adjourned at \ 
 past 12 o'clock. 
 
 "Tues. 24th. Debate began Fox & others in 
 the opposition continued till 4 o'clock in the morn- 
 ing when the house divided for the Address 398 
 against it 67. Majority 331. 
 
 " Friday night 3rd June. Col. Patton's motion 
 came on. It contained five resolutions, charges 
 against Ministers, the fifth was to address His 
 Majesty to dismiss them, long debates on both 
 sides. Patton was by order of the Glanvill 
 Wyndham Ld Temple party to move the resolu- 
 tions to give them the opportunity to declare their 
 sentiments, Mr. Pitt & his party took a difft part, 
 Pitt in his speech in an unmanly way moved the 
 orders of the day to get rid of the question from 
 two motives, first to bring Ministry into disrepute 
 in the eyes of the country, 2nd to give liberty to 
 bring the Motion on at a future day, at 4 o'clock 
 the motion was loudly called for, in Pitt's motion 56 
 a &t it 333 majority 277 ; on the first resolutions 
 34 agt it 275 majority 241, the other resolutions 
 when put, they gave them, they would not divide." 
 
 And here a place may be found for one more 
 letter from Nelson. This is not a holograph. The 
 body of the letter is in a remarkably good hand, no 
 doubt that of a secretary. The signature is large 
 and distinct, and, of course, an autograph.
 
 AN OLD-WORLD DIARY 57 
 
 "COWLEY'S HOTEL, Thursday Evening^ 
 "22nd January^ 1 80 1 . 
 
 "SiR, I have this moment received the favour 
 of your letter, informing me of the honour which the 
 Corporation of Plymouth intend to confer upon me. 
 I will be at your house at 1 2 o'clock on Saturday, 
 or any other time or place you may please to 
 appoint. 
 
 " I have the honour to be, Sir, your most obedient 
 humble servant, 
 
 " NELSON AND BRONTE. 
 
 " Philip Langmead, Esq."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 
 
 IN this chapter I propose to give, without comment, 
 the narrative of the strange event in the Wynyard 
 family, which is commonly called their ghost story. 
 I will only say that this account was handed down 
 to me, doubtless, through our family connection 
 with the Gores, while as regards the longer 
 supplement, the facts are these. I one day men- 
 tioned to my friend Rev. Neville Sherbrooke the 
 fact that I possessed a remarkable document in 
 which his family were interested. Its contents 
 were quite unknown to him, but on applying to his 
 sister, Mrs. Musters, of Wiverton Hall, he found 
 that she had carefully preserved a perfectly inde- 
 pendent account, together with papers of the 
 highest importance that bore on the narrative. 
 Thus, by a most unexpected turn in affairs after 
 the interval of more than a century from the 
 
 event itself, the two histories were compared. 
 
 58
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 59 
 
 My readers will, I venture to think, be rewarded 
 by their perusal : 
 
 "It was in the time of the war with America, 
 when our troops were encamped for the winter at 
 Cape Breton, that the remarkable incident occurred 
 which has appeared in many collections of what are 
 called ' Ghost Stories,' with more or less correct- 
 ness. The following description is from the recol- 
 lection of a near connection of Colonel Gore's, who 
 heard it from his own lips. He very seldom could 
 be induced to tell the story, and never did so 
 without emotion. 
 
 " The weather had been very severe and the 
 harbour frozen, so that no ships had entered it, 
 and supplies which were expected from England 
 had been delayed, and the troops were on short 
 allowances, and the wine had not been supplied as 
 usual at the mess. Four officers who had dined 
 early were engaged in their small barrack rooms in 
 looking over maps and plans of the seat of war. 
 The rooms were four in number, two below, the 
 one leading into the other without any outlet on the 
 other side, and two above. Sounds could easily be 
 heard from one to the other. Colonel Gore and his 
 companion, Sir Hildebrand Oakes(as he afterwards 
 became) were quietly occupied in the room above, 
 when they heard a sudden exclamation from the 
 rooms below, and the words, ' Good God, my
 
 60 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 brother Jack ! ' from Colonel Wynyard, who was 
 sitting there with his friend Major Sherbrooke 
 (afterwards Sir John Sherbrooke). Colonel Gore 
 ran down the short stairs and found Major Sher- 
 brooke standing with a look of amazement gazing 
 towards the inner room. Colonel Gore had ex- 
 claimed, ' The ice then is broken, and Jack Wyn- 
 yard is come out.' ' I do not know,' Major S. said, 
 ' but a figure has certainly come into this room and 
 passed into the bedroom, and Wynyard said it 
 was his brother Jack, and he is searching the 
 inner room ; but there can be no one there, for 
 there is no place to hide.' Colonel Gore begged 
 him to describe what he saw, and took out 
 his watch to note the hour, whilst one of the party 
 ran down to the sentinel who was posted in the 
 narrow pathway leading up to the barracks. He 
 declared no one had passed, and that he must have 
 seen, had any one done so, as there was no other 
 road. 
 
 " Major Sherbrooke said, ' A man dressed in a 
 hunting suit such as he never saw before, with a 
 hunting cap on his head, and a whip in his hand, 
 had come in from the outer door, looked fixedly at 
 Colonel W., and passed into the inner room without 
 speaking. He had never seen Jack W T ynyard, and 
 could not therefore recognise him, as his brother 
 did, when he made the exclamation heard by 
 Colonel Gore. Every enquiry was made, but the
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 61 
 
 ice had not broken, and there had been no arrival 
 from England or elsewhere. Some days passed. 
 Colonel Wynyard continued anxious and depressed, 
 and when at length the ships arrived, the first news 
 he received was that his brother had been killed 
 hunting at the very hour in which he had seen him 
 pass through his room. With the papers and 
 letters came also the last fashions from England, 
 and the very hunting dress worn by the apparition 
 was pictured as the fashion then worn, and it was 
 of a peculiar make, unlike any the officers had ever 
 seen. 
 
 "Some time afterwards Colonel Gore was walk- 
 ing in Bond Street with General Sherbrooke, 
 who paused and pointed to a gentleman on the 
 other side of the street, and said, ' There, Gore, is 
 the figure I saw at Cape Breton ! ' ' That man,' 
 Gore replied, ' was always called " Jack Wynyard's 
 double." (The story books say his twin brother, 
 but that is not correct.) 
 
 " Long after this Sir J. Sherbrooke became ill 
 and was sent to Torquay. There he was visited by 
 Captain Roberts, a nephew of Colonel Gore's, who 
 in the course of conversation asked him what he 
 now thought of the apparition at Cape Breton. 
 He replied very solemnly that he was a very 
 changed man since those days, and had learned 
 to look very seriously on subjects which concerned 
 eternity, but as he expected soon to be called into
 
 62 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 another world, where all things would be revealed, 
 he would still say, as in the presence of God, that 
 every word he had asserted was true, and that 
 although he could not tell for what purpose it was 
 sent, he did see the figure, and it was exactly as he 
 described it at first. He died not long afterwards. 
 
 " General Wynyard could never endure the 
 mention of the subject. 
 
 " Colonel Gore on one occasion told the story 
 after being pressed to do so, when a gentleman 
 began to turn it into ridicule. He was extremely 
 indignant, and said in a very solemn manner, 
 ' Young man, you do not know of what you are 
 speaking.' The whole event had been so impres- 
 sive to those concerned, and was not to be for- 
 gotten." (My aunt, M. F. Langmead's, MSS.) 
 
 SIR JOHN SHERBOOKE'S GHOST STORY. 
 (From a newspaper cutting about 1858.) 
 
 " In 1823 a party were dining with the late Chief 
 Justice Sewell, at his house on the esplanade in 
 Quebec, when the ' Wynyard Ghost Story ' became 
 a subject of conversation. Among the guests was
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 63 
 
 Sir John Harvey (Adjutant-General of the Forces in 
 Canada), who stated that there was then in the 
 garrison an officer who knew all the circumstances, 
 and who probably would not object to answer a few 
 queries about them. Sir John Harvey immediately 
 wrote five queries, and sent them to Colonel Gore, 
 who was at the head of either the Ordnance, or the 
 Royal Engineer Department. 
 
 " QUERIES. 
 
 " MY DEAR GORE, Do me the favour to answer 
 the following : 
 
 " i. Were you with the 33rd Regt. when Captains 
 Wynyard and Sherbrooke believed that they saw 
 the apparition of the brother of the former officer 
 pass through the room in which they were sitting ? 
 
 "2. Were you not one of the first persons who 
 entered the room and assisted in the search for the 
 ghost ? 
 
 " 3. Were you not the person who made a 
 memo in writing of the circumstances by which 
 the singular fact of the death of Wynyard's brother, 
 at or about the time when the apparition was seen, 
 was established? 
 
 "4. With the exception of Sir J. Sherbrooke, do 
 you not consider yourself almost the only surviving 
 evidence of this extraordinary occurrence ?
 
 64 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 " 5. When, where, and in what kind of building 
 did it take place ? 
 
 " (Signed) J. HARVEY. 
 
 " ANSWERS. 
 
 " i. Yes, I was. It occurred at Sydney, in the 
 island of Cape Breton, in the latter end of 1785 or 
 1786, between eight and nine in the evening. 
 We were then blocked up by the ice, and had 
 no communication with any other part of the 
 world. 
 
 "2. Yes, the ghost passed them as they were 
 sitting before the fire at coffee, and went into 
 G. Wynyard's bed-closet, the window of which was 
 puttied down. 
 
 " I did not make the memorandum in writing 
 myself, but I suggested it the next day to Sher- 
 brooke, and he made the memorandum. I remem- 
 bered the date, and on the 6th of June our first 
 letters from England brought the account of John 
 Wynyard's death on the very night they saw the 
 apparition. 
 
 "4. I believe all are dead, except Colonel 
 Yorke, who then commanded the 33rd Regiment, 
 and his Deputy- Lieutenant of the Tower, and I 
 believe Jones Panton, then an Ensign in the 
 
 regiment.
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 65 
 
 ''5. It was in the new barracks at Sydney, built 
 the preceding summer, one of the first ever seen in 
 the settlement. 
 
 "(Signed) RALPH GORE. 
 
 " Sherbrooke had never seen John Wynyard 
 alive, but soon after returning to England the 
 following year, when walking with William Wyn- 
 yard, late Deputy-Adjutant General, and just after 
 telling him the story of the ghost, he exclaimed, 
 1 My God ! ' and pointed out a gentleman as being 
 exactly like the apparition in person and dress. 
 This gentleman was so like J. Wynyard as often to 
 be spoken to for him. I think his name was Hay- 
 man. R.G." 
 
 SIR JOHN SHERBROOKE'S GHOST STORY. 
 
 Copied from " The Album" a new periodical work. 
 
 (In Lady Sherbrooke's handwriting.) 
 
 " Sir John Sherbrooke and General Wynyard 
 were, as young men, officers in the same regiment 
 (the 33rd), which was employed on foreign service. 
 They were connected by similarity of tastes and 
 
 6
 
 66 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 studies, and spent together in literary occupation 
 
 much of that vacant time which was squandered by 
 
 their brother officers in those excesses of the table 
 
 which some forty years ago were considered among 
 
 the necessary accomplishments of the military 
 
 character. 
 
 " They were one afternoon sitting in Wynyard's 
 apartment. It was perfectly light, the hour was 
 about four o'clock. They had dined, but neither 
 of them had drunk wine, and they had retired from 
 the mess to continue together the occupations of the 
 morning. I ought to have said that the apartment 
 in which they were had two doors in it, the one 
 opening into a passage and the other leading into 
 Wynyard's bedroom. There were no other means 
 of entering the sitting-room but from the passage, 
 and no other egress from the bedroom but through 
 the sitting-room, so that any person passing into 
 the bedroom must have remained there, unless he 
 returned by the way he entered. 
 
 "As these two young men were pursuing their 
 studies, Sherbrooke, whose eye happened accident- 
 ally to glance from the volume before him towards 
 the door that opened to the passage, observed a tall 
 youth of about twenty years of age, whose appear- 
 ance was that of extreme emaciation, standing 
 beside it. Struck with the presence of a perfect 
 stranger, he immediately turned to his friend, who 
 was sitting by him, and directed his attention to the
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 67 
 
 guest who had thus strangely broken in upon their 
 studies. As soon as Wynyard's eyes were turned 
 towards the mysterious visitor, his countenance 
 became suddenly agitated. ' I have heard/ says 
 Sir John Sherbrooke, ' of a man's being as pale 
 as death, but I never saw a living face assume the 
 appearance of a corpse, except Wynyard's at that 
 moment.' As they looked silently at the form 
 before them, for W., who seemed to apprehend 
 the import of the appearance, was deprived of the 
 faculty of speech, and S., perceiving the agitation 
 of his friend, felt no inclination to address it as 
 they looked silently upon the figure, it proceeded 
 slowly into the adjoining apartment, and, in the act 
 of passing them, cast its eyes with an expression of 
 somewhat melancholy affection on young Wynyard. 
 The oppression of this extraordinary presence was 
 no sooner removed than Wynyard, seizing his 
 friend by the arm, and drawing a deep breath, as if 
 recovering from the suffocation of extreme astonish- 
 ment and emotion, muttered in a low and almost 
 inaudible tone of voice, ' Great God ! my brother.' 
 ' Your brother ! ' repeated Sherbrooke. ' What can 
 you mean ? There must be some deception, follow 
 me,' and immediately taking his friend by the arm, 
 he preceded him into the bedroom, which as I 
 before stated was connected with the sitting-room, 
 and into which the strange visitor had evidently 
 entered. I have already said that from this cham-
 
 68 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 her there was no possibility of withdrawing, but by 
 the way of the apartment through which the figure 
 had certainly passed, and as certainly never had 
 returned. Imagine then the astonishment of the 
 officers when, finding themselves in the centre of 
 the chamber, they perceived that the room was per- 
 fectly untenanted. Wynyard's mind had received 
 an impression at the first moment of his observing 
 him that the figure whom he had seen was the 
 spirit of his brother. Sherbrooke still persevered 
 in strenuously believing that some delusion had 
 been practised. They took note of the day and 
 hour in which the event happened, but they resolved 
 not to mention the occurrence in the regiment, and 
 gradually they persuaded each other that they had 
 been imposed upon by some artifice of their fellow 
 officers, though they could never account for the 
 reason, or suspect the author, or conceive the means 
 of its execution. They were content to imagine 
 anything possible rather than admit the possibility 
 of a supernatural appearance. But though they 
 had attempted these stratagems of self-delusion, 
 Wynyard could not help expressing his solicitude 
 with respect to the safety of the brother whose 
 apparition he had either seen, or imagined himself 
 to have seen, and the anxiety which he exhibited 
 for letters from England, and his frequent mention 
 
 of his fears for his brother's health, at length 
 
 & 
 
 awakened the curiosity of his comrades, and
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 69 
 
 eventually betrayed him into a declaration of the 
 circumstances he had intended to conceal. The 
 story of the silent and unbidden visitor was no 
 sooner bruited abroad than the destiny of Wyn- 
 yard's brother became an object of universal and 
 painful interest to the officers of the regiment. 
 There were few who did not enquire for Wynyard's 
 letters before they made any demand after their 
 own, and the packets that arrived from England 
 were welcomed with more than usual eagerness, 
 for they brought not only remembrances from their 
 friends in England, but promised to afford a clue to 
 the mystery that had happened among themselves. 
 By the first ships no intelligence relating to the 
 story could have been received, for they had all 
 departed from England previously to the appear- 
 ance of the spirit. At length the long wished-for 
 vessel arrived. 
 
 " All the officers had letters excepting Wynyard. 
 They examined the newspapers ; they contained no 
 mention of any death or of any circumstance con- 
 nected with his family that could account for the 
 preternatural event. There was a solitary letter 
 for Sherbrooke still unopened. The officers had 
 received their letters in the mess-room at the hour 
 of supper. After Sherbrooke had broken the seal 
 of this last packet, and cast a glance on its contents, 
 he beckoned his friend away from the company, and 
 left the room. All were silent, the suspense of the
 
 70 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 interest was now at its climax, the impatience for 
 the return of Sherbrooke was now inexpressible. 
 They doubted not but that letter contained the 
 wished-for intelligence. At the interval of an hour 
 Sherbrooke joined them. No one dared be guilty 
 of so great a rudeness as to inquire the nature of 
 his correspondence ; his mind was manifestly full of 
 thoughts that pained, bewildered, and oppressed 
 him. He drew near to the fireplace, and leaning 
 his hand upon the chimney-piece, said in a low 
 voice to the person who was nearest to him, 
 ' Wynyard's brother is no more.' The first line 
 of Sherbrooke's letter was, ' Dear John, break to 
 your friend Wynyard the death of his favourite 
 brother.' He had died on the day, and at the very 
 hour on which the friends had seen his spirit pass 
 so mysteriously through the apartment. It might 
 have been imagined that these events would have 
 been sufficient to have impressed Sherbrooke with 
 the conviction of their truth, but so strong was his 
 prepossession against the existence, or even the 
 possibility of any preternatural intercourse with the 
 souls of the dead, that he still entertained a doubt 
 of the report of his senses, supported as their testi- 
 mony was by the coincidence of vision and event. 
 Some years after, on their return to England he 
 was walking with two gentlemen in Piccadilly, when 
 on the opposite side of the way, he saw a person 
 bearing the most striking resemblance to the figure
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 71 
 
 which had been disclosed to Wynyard and himself. 
 His companions were acquainted with the story, 
 and he instantly directed their attention to the 
 gentleman opposite as the individual who had con- 
 trived to enter and depart from their apartment 
 without their being conscious of the means. He 
 apologised for addressing the gentleman, but ex- 
 cused the interruption by relating the occurrence 
 which had induced him to commit this solecism in 
 manners. The gentleman received him as a friend, 
 he had never been out of England, but he was the 
 twin brother of the youth whose spirit had been 
 seen. This story is related with several varia- 
 tions ; some say that the gentleman whom Sir 
 John Sherbrooke afterwards met in London was 
 not another brother of General Wynyard's, but 
 a gentleman who bore a strong resemblance to 
 the family. 
 
 " Copied from Lady Sherbrooke's 
 MS. at Oxton by L. C. Musters, 
 her great-niece. Dec., 1898." 
 
 SIR JOHN SHERBROOKE'S GHOST STORY. 
 
 " This story, which I believe has appeared in print 
 more than once, is so curious, that I am going to write 
 it down immediately after hearing it afresh from my
 
 72 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 great aunt, Mary Pyndar, the sister-in-law of Sir 
 
 John Sherbrooke. 
 
 " I will first say that Sir John was the second son 
 of Mr. Coape, of Arnold, and Miss Sherbrooke, of 
 Oxton, and that his maternal aunt, Mrs. Sherbrooke, 
 of Oxton (who retained her name on her marriage 
 with her cousin, Mr. Porter), left property to her 
 nephews, William and John Coape, about the 
 year 1800, which obliged them to take the name of 
 Sherbrooke. John, born 1765, who was in the 
 army, was engaged in the American War during 
 his early life, and on the occasion of this curious 
 adventure, for so we may certainly call it, was 
 quartered with troops at Cape Breton. 
 
 "It was during the winter, when the communica- 
 tion by sea was stopped with ice, and the army was 
 living in huts, that Captain Sherbrooke, as he then 
 was, came to visit his friend Captain Wynyard, who ' 
 was laid up with a broken leg in camp ; while they 
 were talking together, a man passed through the 
 hut, into the inner or sleeping partition, out of 
 which there was no other exit. Captain Wynyard 
 remarked, 'Why, that is my brother,' and Sir John 
 rose to follow the gentleman, remarking laughingly, 
 ' Well, at any rate, he has a good hat upon his 
 head,' in allusion to the fact that in consequence of 
 the severe frost, the army at Cape Breton were cut 
 off from supplies of clothing sent out by sea from 
 England.
 
 THE WYNYARD STORY 73 
 
 " When the news from home reached America, it 
 turned out that Captain Wynyard's brother had 
 died at the time of the apparition, according to 
 what one would expect in an ' accredited ghost 
 story.' The most curious part, however, remains to 
 be told. When Sir John Sherbrooke was walking 
 some years afterwards in the streets of London, 
 accompanied by a friend, he saw among the passers- 
 by a gentleman, of whom he remarked to his 
 companion, ' That is the man I saw in Canada ; 
 let us find out who he is.' They followed the 
 individual, and ascertained that he was the twin 
 brother of the deceased Wynyard, neither of whom 
 had Sir John ever seen before. 
 
 " This recognition of a living man by his likeness 
 to an apparition is, I think, quite unique among 
 such anecdotes. General Wynyard, Sir John's 
 friend (who was laid up with the broken leg at 
 Cape Breton), promised that if he should die 
 before Sir John, he would, if possible, appear to 
 him, but he never did so, though on the day of his 
 death, which occurred about 1809, when his old 
 comrade was in Portugal with the army, Sir John 
 was overcome with such depression of spirits, that 
 he went to spend the day alone in the woods, not 
 feeling able to bear the society of others. 
 
 "Sir John was appointed in 1811 Lieutenant- 
 Governor and Commander of the Forces in Nova 
 Scotia, and in the same year he married my great-
 
 74 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 aunt, Katharina, the eldest daughter of the Rev. 
 Reginald Pyndar, of Madresfield, Worcestershire. 
 In 1815 he was promoted to be Governor-General 
 of Canada, and in 1818, on his health failing, he 
 gave up his appointment, and came back to 
 Calverton, near Oxton (where his elder brother 
 William lived), and there passed the remainder of 
 his life, dying in 1830, aged 65. 
 
 " LINA CHAWORTH MUSTERS. 
 
 "(About 1890).' 
 
 "Mary Pyndar was born in 1797, and died of 
 influenza in December, 1893, m perfect possession 
 of her faculties, excepting her eyesight."
 
 PART II 
 WITH CHANGE OF TIMES
 
 CHAPTER 1 ' 
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 
 
 TORQUAY in the forties! It is a difficult task for 
 those who have only known the town during the 
 last three or four decades to form any idea of its 
 previous appearance. Indeed, it was during the ten 
 years that followed on the central division of the 
 century that many of the larger changes began. And 
 while the visitor of to-day reaps all the immense 
 advantages of a splendid train service, and most 
 admirable hotel accommodation ; while the modern 
 watering-place supplies him with every conceivable 
 provision for his needs, yet those who can recall, 
 however dimly, the beauties of a time long past, 
 must be forgiven their regrets for that which has 
 passed away, and can never be again. 
 
 First of all, let me try to picture the scene which 
 met the eye from the churchyard of the ancient 
 
 1 I am indebted for one or two dates and some details to Mr. 
 White's excellent " History of Torquay."
 
 78 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 parish church of St. Saviour's. The ground itself 
 was shaded by magnificent trees, not one of which, 
 I think, now remains. From the churchyard 
 boundary to Torre Abbey sands there was not a 
 single house. A stretch of meadows, intersected at 
 the upper end by the famous avenues, occupied the 
 whole intervening space to the Paignton Road. 
 Thither my sister and I were taken for a country 
 walk. On Warren Hill there were but some two 
 or three houses, and a pathway, winding charmingly 
 down a wooded slope, conducted the pedestrian to 
 the beach. The closely populated quarter of Ella- 
 combe was then a quiet valley, where the pretty 
 cottage residence of a philanthropical gentleman, 
 named Garrett, stood. One of the romances of my 
 childhood was the little garden, with its tiny tinkling 
 stream. In the very middle of the town, where 
 Union Street now joins with Fleet Street, there was 
 a turnpike, incredible as it may now seem, and close 
 by, the old Town Hall, of which more will be said 
 presently. I well remember Wombwell's Menagerie 
 being located on Victoria Parade. There were no 
 County Councils, or the like, then. 
 
 Beacon Terrace, where Elizabeth Barrett, after- 
 wards Mrs. Barrett Browning, was staying in 1840, 
 when her brother and his companions met with 
 a tragic end by drowning, off Teignmouth, had 
 been built some years previously. But the Beacon 
 Hill, a green mound jutting out into the Bay, was
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 79 
 
 still untouched, and beneath it was a small yard, 
 where, as a child, I watched (< the building of the 
 ship." Daddy Hole Plain was also un vexed by 
 bricks and mortar, and the tops of the Lincombe 
 Hills were fertile with fields and woods. No words 
 of mine can distinctly convey the beauty of the 
 surroundings. Many and many a spot now long 
 since covered with houses, was then in unbroken 
 seclusion. Doubtless there is much to be said for 
 later developments. We who hold such treasures 
 in our memory may be indulged with our dream of 
 a vanished loveliness. 
 
 Babbacombe was in those days a very small 
 hamlet. Twice during the first seven years of my 
 life we went there for a summer change, staying in 
 a house lent to us by the Rev. Harry Grey, an 
 invalid clergyman of a cultivated and deeply 
 religious life. His strong desire was that he might 
 not survive to be Earl of Stamford. This wish was 
 fulfilled, and his son eventually succeeded to the 
 title. During one of these visits, there was a suc- 
 cession of sounds so mysterious as to cause a panic 
 in the household. The seeming manifestations were 
 indeed of a very alarming character. Footsteps were 
 heard on the stairs, doors were suddenly opened, but 
 immediate search failed to find anything whatever 
 to account for these and other phenomena, and my 
 mother had no small difficulty in keeping the servants 
 from flight. It is a far cry from to-day to the
 
 8o OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 circumstances of that time. I will only say that 
 I have been told there was excellent reason for 
 attributing what happened to the adroitness of 
 smugglers, who still plied their trade. From a 
 gardener in my father's employment, I learned 
 something of what was done at that time. He 
 had on one occasion taken part in the landing of 
 a large cargo of brandy, carrying with others a keg 
 on his shoulder to a safe place of concealment 
 inland. 
 
 When the railway was opened, and the original 
 Torquay (now Torre) Station built in 1848, the 
 whole of the south side of the road from Torre was 
 still open country. The arrival of the first train is 
 among my most vivid early recollections. My sister 
 and I were taken to see it from a field on the hillside 
 to the left of the line. But I can just recall the last 
 of the old short-stage coaches plying between Tor- 
 quay and Teignmouth. The first railway traffic to 
 Torquay was conducted by locomotives, but very 
 soon afterwards the ill-fated experiment of atmo- 
 spheric movement was attempted. The sight of the 
 huge tubes, lying between the metals, left an 
 abiding impression on my child mind. The only 
 redeeming feature of the whole enterprise was the 
 picturesque design adopted for the pumping sta- 
 tions. One of them, long transformed into a 
 dwelling-house, is very noticeable on Mr. Kitson's 
 Shiphay property. Likely enough, many a visitor
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 81 
 
 rambling by Chapel Hill may have wondered how 
 such an Italian feature came to be in a Devonshire 
 valley. 
 
 Not long after this time every one was thrilled 
 with horror at the atrocious murder committed by 
 one Rush. There was something in the very name 
 that struck a feeling of terror into my young mind. 
 I do not know what brought him to South Devon, 
 but he was one of the earliest passengers on the 
 new railway. A very strange incident occurred in 
 the construction of the South Devon (main) line, 
 which was told me long after by Brunei's second in 
 command. In making the great viaduct at Ivy- 
 bridge, which was among the wonders of the 
 railway world, one of the masons fell from a fearful 
 height, and literally turned over twice in the air 
 before reaching the ground. Somehow he lighted on 
 such a spot as to be practically uninjured. Half an 
 hour afterwards he was smoking his pipe. Another 
 man employed in the same work was so horrified at 
 the sight of the fall, that he immediately left his 
 engagement. A week after this he was mending 
 a cottage chimney a few feet only from the ground, 
 slipped and was killed on the spot. 
 
 In those first days of Torquay railway ex- 
 periences, there was, I think, no sort of refreshment 
 room provided. But a quaint sort of booth was 
 established across the road in the corner of a field, 
 and there the traveller could obtain from an old 
 
 7
 
 82 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 couple an excellent cup of tea and its usual accom- 
 paniments. While I am on this subject it is worth 
 recording that the first station at Newton junction, 
 and also at Exeter (in both instances built of wood) 
 had not the ordinary arrangement of an up and 
 down platform. There were two separate struc- 
 tures, and the delays that took place at the former 
 station are amongst the things that no one is likely 
 to forget. 
 
 Torquay was in its own way a decidedly eccle- 
 siastical place. The Bishop of Exeter lived close 
 by at Bishopstowe, and the Dean was towards the 
 end of his life a resident also. The See of Exeter, 
 at that time and for long after, comprised the wholly 
 impossible area of Devon and Cornwall. The 
 revenues, before the salutary action of the Eccle- 
 siastical Commissioners, were exceedingly small, 
 indeed ludicrously inadequate. Hence the income 
 of the Bishop was eked out from other sources. 
 One of these was a canonry of Durham, still at that 
 time favourably known as a quarry for such supple- 
 mentary purposes. It must have been a tremen- 
 dous addition and hindrance to the work of the 
 diocese to post to the northern city, and keep an 
 annual residence. Some years ago I visited the 
 Cathedral Library, and found a picture there which 
 immediately arrested my attention. It represents 
 the Assize Service somewhere about 1835. All the 
 Canons are shown in their stalls as portraits, and
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 83 
 
 the Bishop of Exeter is depicted proceeding to the 
 pulpit to preach the sermon. The whole scene is 
 full of interest the number of the chapter, the 
 smallness of the choir, the quaintness of dress, &c. 
 If any Devonshire reader should happen to go into 
 Durham Library, he should by no means fail to see 
 this picture. History is rapidly made nowadays, 
 and the presence of Bishop Philpotts as a Canon of 
 Durham, belongs to a book that is closed for ever. 
 
 Bishop Philpotts's name has been so surrounded 
 by an atmosphere of controversy, that his true 
 character as a reforming prelate has suffered from 
 an undeserved obscurity. What the condition of 
 the huge diocese was at the time of his accession 
 can only now be imagined from the anecdotes that 
 survive. Here is one. An old friend of mine has 
 described to me personally his first meeting with a 
 notorious parson of the period. He was dressed in 
 velveteens, and had a gipsy handkerchief round his 
 neck, and the bridle of his pony slipped over the 
 animal's head in his hand. He took a fancy, in his 
 rough impulsive way, to my narrator, and said, " I'll 
 let that little dandy chap ride my pony, if he likes." 
 A gentleman who had come to the meet took the 
 opportunity of reminding the reverend gentleman (?) 
 that he had not yet paid him ,5 he owed him for a 
 deal. The reply was prompt I give it without its 
 garnishing "No, nor I ever shall." It was then 
 urged that one of two beagles, which he had sent in
 
 84 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 part payment, was a sheep runner, and the only 
 answer vouchsafed to this remonstrance was a curt 
 " Shouldn't wonder ! " 
 
 There were but four churches in the Torquay of 
 the forties, and indeed only three until quite the 
 close of that period. My first sight of Bishop 
 Philpotts was at the consecration of St. Mary Mag- 
 dalen, where I was taken for a part of the service 
 by my nurse. 
 
 The incumbent of St. Saviour's during a part of 
 the forties was an amiable and devout man who had 
 imbibed something of the Oxford teaching, and as 
 such was a person more or less suspect. Perhaps 
 his marriage with the sister of the great Bishop 
 Wilberforce encouraged the feeling at a time when 
 the air was thick with controversy. Anyhow, he 
 told me in after years that when he " read himself 
 in" at the parish church, he accidentally omitted 
 one of the Thirty-nine Articles. He had divided 
 them into two portions, whereof one was assigned to 
 the morning, and the other to the afternoon. The 
 lapse had occurred at the former service, and in the 
 interval a message reached him from a strongly 
 partisan lady, inviting his attention to his delin- 
 quency. He used to wear a black cloak that no 
 doubt fostered a poor opinion of his orthodoxy. 
 He had a custom of which I was told in my child- 
 hood, and which greatly impressed me, of taking 
 the altar vessels from the Church for the Com-
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 85 
 
 munion of the sick. At that time the sacred vessels 
 made for this purpose were of a miniature descrip- 
 tion, and in his judgment probably altogether un- 
 suitable. It would be interesting to know if this 
 habit of his obtained in other places also. He used 
 to say that if no congregation appeared on week 
 days, there was always one in the churchyard. The 
 only other churches up to 1849 were the chapel of 
 ease, dedicated to St. John, and the proprietary 
 Chapel of the Holy Trinity. The site of the 
 former is now occupied by a remarkably fine build- 
 ing, from the design of the late Mr. Street, R.A. 
 The latter has been replaced in the close vicinity by 
 a modern edifice, and the old Chapel has been dis- 
 mantled, and is partially converted into business 
 premises. 
 
 Both these places were prominent features in the 
 days of which I am writing, and claim more than a 
 passing notice. It may here be noticed that Tor- 
 quay afforded a sad instance of delay in making 
 proper provision for the spiritual needs of a growing 
 population. In the old parish church the ingress of 
 visitors during the twenties, and more especially the 
 thirties, left a rapidly decreasing space for the 
 inhabitants. It was curiously noticed, not long 
 since, that on one Sunday some seventy years ago, 
 two Dukes and three other noblemen of high rank 
 were recognised in the congregation of what was, 
 it must be remembered, only a village church.
 
 86 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 St. John's, built in 1815, had but 120 seats free, all 
 told. It was not till the opening of St. Mary 
 Magdalen that the need, which had then reached 
 almost irremediable proportions, was fairly met, 
 
 St. John's became the home of what for clearness 
 sake (albeit party terms are unwelcome) I must 
 call the High Church section ; Trinity Chapel, from 
 the first, was associated with the opposite school of 
 thought, and soon became a very powerful centre. 
 Bishop Philpotts constantly officiated at St. John's, 
 where an episcopal seat was set within the sanc- 
 tuary. I think the Incumbent during the forties 
 must have been the first person to figure in a ritual 
 suit. The Bishop took very vigorous measures 
 literally, it is said, m et armis, in respect of vases of 
 flowers placed on the altar, Easter Day, 1847. As 
 yet, the days of Westerton and Liddell were not. 
 The offending ornaments had been placed, I 
 imagine, on the Mensa itself, and not on a re-table. 
 The hapless Incumbent was subsequently con- 
 demned in costs. I remember that a peculiar 
 system of chanting prevailed in this church. It was 
 strenuously defended in its time. But I do not 
 know if it still has its advocates. Perhaps some of 
 the old books have been preserved, and would afford 
 interest to musical experts. 
 
 Trinity Chapel rose to its zenith under the long 
 ministry of the Rev. Richard Fayle. No figure was 
 more familiar in the Torquay of the middle part of
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 87 
 
 the century than his. He was a gentleman of the 
 old school, handsome, and, as a younger man, must 
 have possessed considerable strength. He was 
 exceedingly fond of horses, a good judge of their 
 points, and was always well mounted. The late 
 Archdeacon Griffiths told me some few years ago 
 how he became acquainted with Mr. Fayle. Mrs. 
 Griffiths was seriously ill, and was sent to Torquay 
 for a prolonged sojourn. Her husband, then a 
 Welsh Incumbent, attended the Chapel, and after a 
 time was called on by the Incumbent. The latter, 
 with amusing frankness, gave his new listener to 
 understand that the cut of his coat was such as to 
 engender doubts as to his ecclesiastical sympathies. 
 These doubts, however, the younger man was able 
 to remove satisfactorily. Very soon afterwards, 
 some very urgent business took Mr. Fayle away 
 from Torquay for a short period. He secured the 
 services of the now approved Mr. Griffiths in his 
 absence, and having discovered that he was a con- 
 genial spirit as regarded matters equestrian, charac- 
 teristically sent a riding horse every morning, and a 
 brougham for carriage exercise each afternoon. 
 
 I can just remember the Chapel before the great 
 influx of worshippers made the additions of larger 
 galleries necessary. And it must have been quite 
 early in my life that my mother took me there one 
 Ash Wednesday morning, and as we came out the 
 workmen were waiting for the close of the service
 
 88 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 to commence what I think was the final instalment 
 of accommodation. The services were of the 
 severest type of plainness. That at 1 1 a.m. was 
 commenced by a familiar short anthem, " I will 
 arise," and the only other music allowed was the 
 chanting of the Jubilate and the singing of two 
 hymns. The prayers were read from a second 
 pulpit on an exact level with that for preaching. 
 There were a very large Bible and Prayer Book, 
 which reposed on a perilously small space. I may 
 remark that to this day I cherish the memory of 
 Mr. Fayle's voice and admirable reading. Both 
 the pulpits were approached by a long staircase, 
 and it was a sight to see the finely-built man 
 ascend for his sermon, with a large Bible carried 
 under his arm. The sermon was immensely long 
 fifty minutes in a morning ! I fear for my father's 
 strict respect for truth when he reassured my sister 
 in reply to a pathetic inquiry by saying, "It will 
 soon be over, my dear." A collection at Trinity 
 Chapel was one of the great financial hopes for a 
 society whose claims were advocated there. It is a 
 remarkable fact that early celebrations of the Holy 
 Communion prevailed in this Chapel at a time when 
 they were sufficiently rare. I believe, but I am not 
 sure, that they were instituted there before any 
 other church in the town adopted the practice, 
 except, perhaps, St. John's. 
 
 Many years afterwards, for old sake's sake, I
 
 TORQUA Y IN THE FORTIES 89 
 
 went into the Chapel one day, and finding the 
 old high pews gone, and a seemly lectern replacing 
 the former reading pulpit, I expressed my sense of 
 the changes to the good woman in charge of the 
 building. She said, " I suppose you remember it 
 in old Mr. Fayle's time ? " And when I replied 
 that it was so, she added, with a very pretty loyalty 
 to established traditions, " But it is the same doc- 
 trine, sir ! " 
 
 And this reminds me of a somewhat similar 
 incident. We were once at Weston-super-Mare 
 with a sick child. My wife had remained with 
 him one Sunday morning, and sitting by the open 
 window overheard a conversation between two men 
 who had just quitted a certain church near by. 
 One of them was indignantly remarking that the 
 surplice had been used in the pulpit. The other 
 endeavoured to allay his irritation by assuring 
 him that "It was the gown doctrine, you know." 
 
 It was in St. Mary Magdalen Church that I 
 heard a Queen's letter read, a solitary instance so 
 far as I am concerned. The observance of rubrics 
 was much in the air at the time of the consecration, 
 and I distinctly recall the solemnity with which the 
 sacred elements were brought in from the vestry by 
 a venerable man after the collection of the alms, 
 and then placed on the altar. The rule was thus 
 kept, when a credence table was unknown, and 
 indeed would not have been tolerated.
 
 90 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 It would be very difficult for a child of to-day to 
 realise what it meant for my sister and myself to 
 attend occasionally this new church. After the 
 uncompromising ugliness of a square building from 
 which ornament was rigidly excluded, the spacious 
 Gothic edifice, with its open seats, and the new 
 marvel of stained-glass windows, meant a world 
 of mystery and beauty. And then the delight 
 of a Sunday morning when there was a celebration 
 of Holy Communion. For the first time we heard 
 the Sanctus as an Introit, and the Kyrie sung, 
 besides the Amens being accompanied. The im- 
 pressions of that first experience of brightness have 
 survived all the changes and vicissitudes of the 
 many years that have since gone by nothing since 
 has had quite the charm of that very small attempt 
 at dignifying the Eucharistic Service. It is of 
 special interest to remember that the principles 
 of the excellent Incumbent, Prebendary Wolfe, 
 were altogether opposed to those of the Oxford 
 school. 
 
 My readers will perhaps find it difficult of belief 
 that a disgusting orgie was perpetrated in Torquay 
 up to within some forty years ago. Some low 
 wretch was elected in mockery as Lord Mayor 
 of Torre, and having been made helplessly drunk, 
 was carried in that condition through the streets by 
 a crowd, and finally deposited in a pond in Torre 
 Abbey Meadows. On almost the last occasion of
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 91 
 
 this sickening scandal being perpetrated, I was 
 with George Collyer Harris (of whom I shall have 
 a good deal to say later on) in Higher Union 
 Street. With unshaken courage he turned and 
 faced the excited mob, and his sermon which 
 scathingly denounced the bestial scene on the 
 following Sunday, had probably a good deal to 
 do with hastening its suppression. 
 
 Prominent among these earliest memories is the 
 dangerous riot that took place in 1847. The cause 
 was the prevailing scarceness of bread, and a good 
 deal of looting was done in the course of the night 
 of May 1 7th. A party, organised in the interests 
 of law and order, headed by two county magistrates, 
 Mr. Edward Vivian and Mr. C. March Phillips, 
 succeeded in capturing some of the ringleaders. A 
 midnight sitting was held for the purpose of dealing 
 with the charge, and three of the number were 
 forthwith despatched to Exeter. The trouble was 
 by no means over, for a determined attempt at a 
 rescue of the others who had been detained was 
 made the following day by navvies employed on 
 the railway works. I have been told, as long as I 
 can remember, that Mr. March Phillips and two 
 coastguard men were the only three persons left 
 at the Old Town Hall, previously alluded to, when 
 the attacking column arrived. With splendid 
 bravery Mr. March Phillips himself seized the 
 leader, a powerful man of large stature, while his
 
 92 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 two companions held the other assailants at bay, 
 by alternately presenting the points of their side 
 arms and using the butt ends of their muskets. 
 Adequate reinforcements were soon on the spot, 
 and after some further stirring episodes, quiet was 
 at last regained. But the tramp of a determined 
 crowd, marching on mischief, and the hasty pre- 
 cautions to protect property, made an indelible 
 impression on my mind. I was not quite four 
 years old, but the event seems as though of 
 yesterday. 
 
 People of this generation, I fancy, have very 
 little conception of the condition of things among 
 the poor at the time of the repeal of the Corn Laws. 
 Bread was selling at fifteenpence the quartern loaf, 
 and there was wide and grievous suffering. 
 
 This chapter is already long enough. Before I 
 close it, here is a significant anecdote related to me 
 not long before his death by a very well known 
 Torquay personage, the late Mr. J. B. Toogood. 
 He went into the shop belonging to a tradesman 
 many years established in the town, and inquired 
 after his welfare since they had last met. The 
 tradesman replied, epigrammatically, that people 
 with a pair of horses dealt with him at the present, 
 whereas those who had four attached to their car- 
 riage had been his customers in the days of old 
 Torquay. "Well," replied Mr. Toogood, "and 
 don't they pay you just as well ? " " Certainly
 
 TORQUAY IN THE FORTIES 93 
 
 not," firmly rejoined the other. And we may be quite 
 sure he was correct. In those now distant days, 
 families of wealth and distinction came to such a 
 place to stay. London was at a great and expen- 
 sive distance. There was a large establishment 
 with all its manifold requirements. The people 
 who used four horses were used to a liberal local 
 expenditure. Happy they who had their custom, 
 and were prudent in their use of its proceeds ! 
 
 Yet one more anecdote of Henry of Exeter must 
 bring these old Torquay sketches to an end. One 
 of his family told me in my younger days this story 
 of the Bishop. He had unbent for the nonce, and 
 had invented a wonderful tale of the Munchausen 
 type to amuse a young relative how that once 
 riding through a wood he had set his horse at a 
 gate, but, in clearing it, had come in contact with 
 the boughs of a tree. On reaching home he found 
 that his watch was gone. But some time afterward 
 taking the same ride, and jumping the same gate, 
 he found the watch hanging on the end of a branch. 
 " Indeed, my lord," replied the younger Philpotts 
 with becoming gravity, "and may I ask if it was 
 still going?" " Going, sir ?" retorted the Bishop. 
 " The only wonder is that it was not gone ! "
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 
 
 THE Gorham controversy, which had been largely 
 forgotten, has, in the course of recent discussions, 
 again occupied the attention of Churchmen. Not 
 indeed as to the merits of the case, but as being 
 the first instance in which the methods of the 
 Judicial Committee of the Privy Council were dis- 
 played in matters ecclesiastical. With the dispute 
 itself I have here no concern. But Mr. Gorham, 
 I have understood, wrote some portion of his 
 argument or defence in my father's house, and this 
 has led me to refer to an episode marked with 
 great results in the English Church. He was a 
 man of a determined and argumentative type. 
 My mother, I may mention, with her usual habit of 
 observation, was much struck with the shape of 
 Mr. Gorham's head. A very curious incident was 
 afterwards related to me by my uncle, who was 
 an old-fashioned strong Churchman, greatly
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 95 
 
 opposed to what were supposed to be the views of 
 the Vicar of Brampford Speke. They chanced to 
 meet at a clerical gathering where the subject of 
 systematically teaching the Church Catechism was 
 under discussion. The feeling of those present 
 was generally opposed to the plan. The single 
 person in the room who firmly supported my uncle's 
 opinion was, strange to say, Mr. Gorham ! 
 
 It must have been about this time that I first 
 remember a visitor to my father's house, who, 
 amidst all his serious differences with my father's 
 religious tenets, held ever a loved and honoured 
 place there. The presence of Frederick Denison 
 Maurice is, I think, the earliest remembrance I 
 have, beyond that of the members of my own 
 family, and my father's household. Beyond the 
 fact of his being there, I regret to say my actual 
 memory fails me, save only in this one particular, 
 that he used to attend the weekday services in the 
 old parish church, and was, I think, regarded in a 
 place where religious differences ran miserably 
 high, as something of a Tractarian in consequence. 
 After my child days were over, I have heard my 
 aunt describe the agony of sorrow he endured 
 because there was a failure in arranging for his 
 wife's last Communion on her deathbed. 
 
 Amongst my first possessions was a book given 
 me by him, in which he had written my name and 
 his own. It is a matter now of unavailing regret 

 
 f 
 
 96 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 that before I was aware of its value, I gave away 
 the autograph. 
 
 Mrs. Maurice died, I think, in 1845, an< ^ mv 
 remembrance of Mr. Maurice must be in 1848. 
 He did not by any means always do full justice to 
 himself in his books. So true and so appreciative 
 a critic as Dean Church, while admitting the 
 " degree of haze round his writings," has given us 
 his reasons for the undeniable fact. One of them 
 was Maurice's " preference for the imperfection 
 which left him the consciousness of honesty." A 
 somewhat similar comment was made by Canon 
 Liddon on the writings of a very different man 
 the saintly Walter Kerr Hamilton, Bishop of 
 Salisbury. 
 
 Nothing certainly could be a more radical 
 blunder than to find in him an apologist for loose- 
 ness of belief. He was a man of deep and fertile 
 faith, and a character of rare excellence. He 
 belonged to a group of men whereof any period in 
 English history, however richly provided, might 
 justly be proud. Maurice, Kingsley, Hughes, and 
 the single survivor, J. M. Ludlow, were set down 
 by some as dreamers of impracticable dreams, but 
 their dreams were noble ideals, much whereof has 
 now passed into general acceptation. Whatever 
 failure . there may have been in their pursuit of 
 them is no more perhaps than is marked by the 
 interval that in our struggling humanity must be
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 97 
 
 inevitably found between a splendid aim and the 
 fullest available measure of realisation. One of 
 Professor Maurice's sisters married the Rev. E. H. 
 Plumptre, afterwards Dean of Wells. My intro- 
 duction to them was during early Oxford days, in 
 the old hotel on the CEggischorn, and they will 
 always be associated with my recollections of that 
 wonderland which I then saw for the first time. 
 
 Another figure that held a marked place in my 
 father's life was Charles Kingsley. It was about 
 the middle of the Crimean war that, on account of 
 Mrs. Kingsley's health, the family came for a 
 lengthened sojourn to Livermead House. This 
 well-known resort for visitors is close to the sea, 
 and Kingsley indulged there to the full his passion 
 for natural history. " Glaucus " was the fruit of 
 those quiet months unspeakably welcome in the 
 midst of that closely-occupied life. I recall two 
 stones that belong to this visit. He had hardly 
 settled into his quarters when Mrs. Kingsley 
 learned that in another part of the house was a 
 lonely lady, who had been taken alarmingly ill. 
 She could not rest till something had been done for 
 her relief, and Kingsley started accordingly for my 
 father's house. My mother was at home, and saw 
 him. He stated his errand of mercy, and then 
 wound up his apology for coming by the following 
 startling statement : " You see, Mrs. Tetley, my 
 wife is such a kind-hearted woman that if she was
 
 98 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 going to be executed, her first anxiety would be 
 that any who desired to see it might get a good 
 place ! " 
 
 The second story is as follows. Kingsley had 
 been listening to a sermon one Sunday, as to which 
 he made this comment to my mother an unfor- 
 tunate one, by the way, for the stammer which 
 hampered him sometimes in conversation. " Dear 
 
 Mr. told us a great deal about demons, but 
 
 one demon he overlooked, the demon of dulness." 
 Certainly that was a peril that never haunted his 
 own preaching. 
 
 Another visitor, and a much welcomed one, was 
 Mr. Daniel Macmillan. Judge Hughes, in his 
 delightfully written " Life," has given several parti- 
 culars of his different visits to Torquay, and it 
 would be altogether superfluous to repeat them 
 here. Thomas Hughes, I may remark in passing, 
 was another friend belonging to these times, 
 through his marriage with the daughter of Pre- 
 bendary Ford, the devout and well-read Vicar of 
 St. Mary Church, before the eventful incumbency 
 of Mr. Maskell. I think my chief recollection of 
 Mr. Macmillan is in 1855. He often drove about 
 with my father, and was exceedingly kind to me. 
 I remember on one occasion how he encouraged 
 me to detail to him the plot of a story which had 
 been recently related to us children. His winning 
 sympathy with a child's interests notably the
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 99 
 acquisition of a toy gun at a time when the cares 
 of business at Cambridge in his enforced absence, 
 and the shadows of anxiety as to his precarious 
 state of health, must have profoundly affected him 
 I see now to have been very remarkable. And I 
 am rejoiced to say that a handsome gift of his to 
 me has met with a better fate than that which 
 befell Mr. Maurice's book. As I write, my copy 
 of Sir Edward Creasy's " Fifteen Decisive Battles 
 of the World " is before me, with an inscription in 
 our old friend's clear handwriting. Many years 
 afterwards, his brother, Mr. Alexander Macmillan, 
 came to my father's house. My father, I remem- 
 ber, repeated to me the substance of their conver- 
 sation, and one point on which Mr. Macmillan 
 had dwelt was the magnificence of John Bright's 
 oratory. He had listened, he said, to all the great 
 speakers of the day, but there was not one that he 
 considered to be his equal. During the years that 
 followed Mr. Daniel Macmillan's stay at Torquay 
 valuable presents of books were from time to time 
 sent by the firm. In our old home we have first 
 editions of " Westward Ho!" "Two Years Ago," 
 " Geoffrey Hamlyn," and last, but by no means 
 least, an early issue of " Tom Brown's School- 
 days." All the early numbers of Macmillans 
 Magazine were despatched as they came out, and 
 thus we possess the first issue of " Ravenshoe," 
 before it appeared as a separate volume. I am
 
 TOO OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 here reminded that Judge Hughes visited us in our 
 Bristol home not long before his death. He dined 
 with us, and we were delighted by the eagerness 
 he displayed in getting a good view of an instan- 
 taneous photograph of the Pembroke Torpid in 
 which my son had been rowing. I shall never 
 forget seeing the graphic narrator of the boat-race 
 in " Tom Brown at Oxford " carefully studying the 
 scene. 
 
 Our very secluded life was about this same time 
 greatly brightened by my mother's first cousin, 
 whom I have before mentioned, Lucy Byng, 
 taking up her residence for some months with us. 
 She divided the time between Torquay and our 
 cousins, the Erving Clarks, at Efford Manor. 
 They had not long before sustained a considerable 
 shock in the death at the Alma of Sir William 
 Norris Young, who had quite recently married 
 their daughter Florence. He was in the fated 
 Twenty-third Royal Welsh Fusiliers, and fell with 
 most of the other officers engaged. The husband 
 of another cousin of mine, Mace Hawker, the 
 good and gallant Major Cuddy, was the first 
 to fall within the Redan. His courage will always 
 be commemorated in my house by the fine ham- 
 mered silver cup which his widow generously 
 transferred to me, and which had belonged to my 
 great-uncle, John Arthur Wynne. 
 
 But to return to Mrs. Lukin, for such was the
 
 AMONG MY FATHERS FRIENDS 101 
 
 married name of Miss Byng. Her husband, who 
 had died some little time before, was the son of a 
 former Dean of Wells, and a character in his way. : 
 He was particularly fond of horses, and was, I 
 believe, a keen rider to hounds. One of his 
 fancies was to have his hair cut by his groom, who 
 used to perform the operation as his master sat on 
 an inverted bucket in the stable yard. My sister 
 and I were devoted to her. She used to procure 
 divers little indulgences for us, and one of our great 
 delights was to hear her read parts of " Don 
 Quixote " to us. Mr. Lukin married our cousin as 
 his third wife, but she was, I think, his first love. 
 And it was said that he made her an offer on each 
 previous occasion before contracting an alliance. 
 
 Associated with my childhood, and many years 
 of my later life, Emma Marshall will always hold a 
 prominent place in my memory. It was in the year 
 1851, when the Martin family were living in the 
 same Livermead House, where afterwards Charles 
 Kingsley's quarters were taken up, that I first saw 
 her. She was an indefatigable worker, and re- 
 markable for the accuracy of detail in her books. 
 This feature of her writings is all the more to be 
 noted when the very large number of publications 
 that were credited to her pen is taken into account. 
 The providential ordering of her life that made her 
 
 1 It was during Dean Lukin's tenure of office that the last bull- 
 baiting took place in Wells.
 
 102 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 for a long time a resident in various Cathedral 
 cities was gratefully recognised by her as her career 
 developed. The terrible failure of the South Wales 
 and West of England Bank, in which her husband 
 was both a manager and shareholder, brought heavy 
 and lasting trouble on her household. Most bravely 
 she bore up against the blow, devoting herself more 
 assiduously than ever to her literary labours. Her 
 ambition was, as she used to say, to write no word 
 that could do hurt. Her many friends, and the 
 very many thousands that have delighted in her 
 works of fiction, and her tales founded on history 
 and personal study of localities, will never admit a 
 simple negative as an adequate meed of praise. 
 Whatever in aim is noble, and whatever in life is 
 consistent therewith, that is the tone that rings 
 through the long list of the books that is now closed 
 for ever. 
 
 I pass to another writer whose exquisite pathos 
 will never be forgotten while the love of our animal 
 friends and the sense of poetry in simple daily life 
 hold a place in the minds of men. Dr. John Brown 
 in student days at the University of Edinburgh 
 shared rooms with my father. No one who is 
 privileged to know him is likely to forget the author 
 of " Rab and his Friends." One evening I recall 
 especially, when, as a young man, I dined with him 
 and Professor Syme. In the course of the conver- 
 sation he uttered a most characteristic remark to
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 103 
 the effect that " the Almighty never made a more 
 beautiful thing than a wee cuddy." Many of us, I 
 think, will be disposed to agree with him. Sydney 
 Smith, in his Lectures on Moral Philosophy, cites 
 the donkey in comparison with the horse as a 
 typical instance of the picturesque. It is quite 
 true ; yet Dr. Brown's statement, though it goes 
 very much further, will nevertheless sufficiently 
 hold its own. 
 
 It was the arrival at Torquay of George Collyer 
 Harris (who afterwards married our cousin, Percy 
 Primrose, and whose life has been sketched by Miss 
 Charlotte Yonge) as curate of the old parish church, 
 that introduced into our lives the strongest and 
 most permanent influence. I have already spoken 
 of my home life as exceedingly secluded. The loss 
 of all my grandfather's property had left a heavy 
 cloud of sorrow, and, with the exception of the 
 visits of a few relations and intimate friends, there 
 was little to dispel it for us children. Dr. Harris, 
 the Vicar of Torre, fell in 1859 into a long and 
 critical illness, so it was arranged that his son 
 should return home and help him, and very shortly 
 a wonderful change came to pass, to our great ad- 
 vantage. With a discriminating kindness that it is 
 only as life has gone on that I have been able at all 
 duly to appreciate, he quickly began to take notice 
 of me. He saw the position of the awkward, over- 
 grown lad, who had never had the advantage of a
 
 104 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 public school, and he bent his whole vigorous, 
 enthusiastic self to brace and encourage me. And 
 never, surely, was there a young man " rejoicing in 
 his strength " more admirably fitted for such a 
 kindly task never one more likely to call out the 
 loyal adherence of those he made happy by his 
 companionship and care. The beautiful young face, 
 which Richmond sketched, the well-knit and active 
 frame, the light curling hair, and the bright eyes, that 
 alternately softened and flashed it was a personality 
 the outlines of which no lapse of time can obscure, 
 an influence, of a truth, wherewith to conjure. For 
 there was in the man a glorious passion for good, a 
 splendid hatred of wrong, so that the impulse in the 
 way of all that was noble and true seemed to sweep 
 irresistibly away all hindrance before it, and the 
 loathing of the base and the mean and the foul to 
 rend away the deceit and the mask. Add to this a 
 singular and winning spell as a preacher, and those 
 who never during his too brief life were privileged 
 to see him will not wonder at his extraordinary 
 power, more especially with the young. 
 
 It told in a moment in the swiftly growing town 
 and over the whole district. Such sermons as his 
 were nothing short of a revelation. Plain Church 
 truths at which men had for long rebelled, clothed 
 in language picturesque and strong, cautions and 
 counsels that dealt with daily life in terms of unmis- 
 takable directness in the church and in the mission
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 105 
 
 room, amongst all classes and conditions of people, 
 alike startled the indifferent and aroused the ordi- 
 nary church-goer in a manner to which hitherto 
 they were strangers. It may seem an exaggerated 
 statement to make, but now, after the lapse of more 
 than a quarter of a century, I do not hesitate to say, 
 and I may confidently make my appeal to some 
 who remember George Harris in the fulness of his 
 strength to support me, that never before or since 
 have many among us come under the peculiar force 
 of such sermons as his. 
 
 It was under his guidance that I made my first 
 journey abroad in 1862. We were a party of three, 
 the other member of the group being his connection, 
 James Yonge. We had some experiences that 
 would seem strange enough to those who only know 
 the finished methods of modern travel. For in- 
 stance, we set out from the London Docks for 
 Antwerp a twenty hours' business to begin with ! 
 At that time there was no railway in the Rhone 
 valley further than Sion, and we travelled on foot, 
 not only in the Zermatt district, but also a good 
 deal in other parts of Switzerland. And in the 
 course of this holiday George made his first essay 
 in mountain climbing, for which he quickly acquired 
 a considerable taste. His subsequent exploits, 
 however, somewhat narrowly missed realisation, 
 for, early in our Swiss wanderings, he and our 
 other companion, having lingered late on the
 
 106 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Pilatus, were overtaken by darkness, and only just 
 discovered in time that they were approaching the 
 brink of a formidable precipice. Two years after 
 this we went off together for another holiday abroad, 
 and this time struck into the Tyrol. There I parted 
 with him for a while, as I had not the slightest 
 capacity for mountain work. He was joined by 
 Lord Francis Douglas, whom we had met at Inns- 
 bruck. I had walked down from the Ziller Thai to 
 take the railway at Jenbach, and near the station I 
 met him on his way up the path I had just de- 
 scended. I can see him now as I saw him then, in 
 all the freshness of his eager youth, with his rope 
 slung round him and his ice axe in his hand. We 
 bade each other farewell, and we never met again. 
 The following year, as is well known, he formed 
 one of the party which first conquered the Matter- 
 horn. All went well with them till they had reached 
 a point in the descent some twenty minutes from 
 the summit. Then a fatal slip on the part of Mr. 
 Hadow caused him to fall and knock over Michael 
 Croz. Their weight brought Mr. Hudson after 
 them, and then Lord F. Douglas. The rope broke 
 between him and Tangwalder, and in a few awful 
 moments all was over. Three of the bodies were 
 recovered by a search party, but that of Douglas 
 was never found. 
 
 But to go back from that victory which was thus 
 turned into sadness to our reading party in 1862.
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 107 
 George was always fond of finding- routes out of the 
 beaten track, and so when we were moving from 
 Zurich to Lucerne he proposed a notable alterna- 
 tive to the usual means of transit. We took the 
 steamer to Horgen, walked to Zug, and thence 
 went over the lake in another steamer to Immensee, 
 whence again we were to take to our feet and make 
 for Lucerne. It all was quite admirable on paper, 
 but the element of storm was not taken into account. 
 This broke on us while crossing the lake of Zug, 
 and when we were nearing the end of our journey 
 our appearance was miserable indeed. And here 
 arose a difficulty, for, being strangers at the 
 Schweizerhof, we doubted exceedingly whether 
 that highly reputed hostelry would admit us. Now, 
 if there was one thing about George Harris more 
 than another, it was a provoking way he had of 
 looking more respectable than the rest under the 
 most adverse circumstances. So it was decided 
 that he should make the best toilette that was 
 possible, and then act as our spokesman and agent 
 in applying for rooms. There used to be outside 
 Lucerne huge piles of timber, such as you see by 
 the canal close to Gloucester, and behind this 
 friendly shelter knapsacks were opened, and our 
 leader was rehabilitated. He was quickly bien mis, 
 and his negotiations at the hotel crowned with 
 speedy success. 
 
 A sufficiently odd coincidence befell me in the
 
 io8 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 course of some continental travels during later 
 years. My brother-in-law and I had come through 
 from Geneva to Paris, arriving in the latter place 
 one Saturday in July, 1874. We were resting 
 after the long journey, when a knock came at the 
 door, and a waiter stated that a lady was waiting to 
 see me in the Salle de Reunion. This was at the 
 Hotel de Lille et d' Albion. I explained that it 
 must be a mistake, as there was no one who could 
 be inquiring for us, and he went away. Hours 
 later, to my great regret, on entering the Salle the 
 lady, who had remained there all the time, came 
 forward and spoke to me. The message had in 
 some way been misunderstood, and she explained 
 
 that her father was the chaplain at , that he 
 
 was obliged suddenly to leave home, and, there 
 being no one to take the duty next day, she had 
 come to the hotel to see if there were an English 
 clergyman there. I told her how sorry I was, but 
 that we were actually starting for Dover by the 
 afternoon train. As there was nothing to be done 
 she went away, poor lady, to try in some other 
 quarter. 
 
 Two years later I was once more in Paris, this 
 time at the Hotel Meurice. Again it was a Satur- 
 day, and once more a knock at the door introduced 
 a strange lady. She apologised for intruding on us, 
 but pleaded the urgency of her errand. It was this. 
 The gentleman who was then chaplain of the same
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 109 
 
 place was very ill, unable to do any work, and she 
 had come to ask if I would go over from Paris and 
 take the Sunday's duty. Again I was compelled to 
 decline. I was a guest, and so the journey was not 
 practicable. However, I compromised the matter 
 by doing what I could. I gave assistance at the 
 Chapel in the Rue d'Aguesseau, and in this way, I 
 think, it was arranged that the chaplain's place at 
 was supplied. 
 
 It is interesting to recall that on that first journey 
 of ours we saw the old crane still standing on the 
 temporary roof of the Cathedral at Cologne. The 
 final effort to complete the work must have been 
 begun not long after. Some of the charges noted 
 down in a journal are curious in comparison with 
 those of to-day. I should question, for instance, 
 whether 4 fr. 50 for dinner, bed, and the morning 
 coffee at a well-known hotel in the Zermatt Valley 
 would be now considered an adequate payment ! 
 On the other hand, I am bound to add that the 
 speed and comfort in reaching Switzerland, and the 
 many arrangements that are made for a visitor's 
 pleasure and convenience, more than repay the 
 advance in expenses incurred during your stay. 
 
 George Harris did not live even into middle age. 
 Dis aliter visum. That active, inspiring life faded 
 out in much weakness and suffering. But when the 
 end came in his father's house, whither he had been 
 able to return from the Riviera, early on a May
 
 I io OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 morning in 1874, the words of the writer of Wisdom 
 were surely justified, "He being made perfect in a 
 short time fulfilled a long time. Grace and mercy 
 is with His saints, and He hath respect unto His 
 chosen." 
 
 On the further side of the lane that skirted my 
 father's grounds is another of the old Torquay 
 typical residences, where at different times two 
 families lived, each of whom furnished a name of 
 considerable celebrity. Here came Mrs. Myers in 
 her widowhood, and formed for a while a home for 
 her three boys Frederick, Ernest, and Arthur. I 
 was the junior of the eldest, and went in consider- 
 able awe of him. As a boy he showed remarkable 
 talent, and I have heard his then tutor, an old 
 friend and colleague of my own, say that he never 
 knew a case of equal brilliance in verse at such an 
 early age. The extraordinary power and beauty 
 of his " St. Paul " may well make us regret that he 
 contributed so little to English poetry. And here 
 also lived for a while Mr. Maxwell Lyte, the 
 famous pioneer of the higher English photography, 
 and kinsman of the saintly author of " Abide with 
 Me." We still possess two specimens of his work 
 done in the Pyrenees during the early fifties. They 
 are achievements nothing less than marvellous at 
 such a date. His works were always signed, with 
 a charming play on the words, Lux fecit. 
 
 Switzerland was not free from dangers fifty years
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS in 
 ago, that have vanished in our own day. Once 
 when Lyte and a companion had been lodging at 
 a shepherd's chalet in a remote district, the owner 
 of the hut, a gigantic ruffian, savagely assaulted the 
 latter. Lyte rushed in as the Swiss was swinging 
 the single bench that the room contained over his 
 head, to fell the visitor to the ground. He was 
 a remarkably agile man, and he sprang at the 
 assailant, arresting his murderous weapon as it 
 descended. Then all grammar forsaking him in 
 his just indignation, he exclaimed, "Si vous faire 
 cela, je vous frapper beaucoup ! " But there are 
 ways of speaking that can dispense with the rules 
 of syntax. Years afterwards, I remember an 
 Oxford friend being deputed by the rest of his 
 party to remonstrate with a continental landlord on 
 the excessive nature of his charges, delicately open- 
 ing the subject with this singular remark, " Vous 
 nous avez affreusement vole\" 
 
 Joseph Stephenson, successively Prebendary and 
 Treasurer of Wells Cathedral, was another most 
 familiar figure in my earlier days. His father 
 acquired by purchase an estate at Lympsham, not 
 far from Weston-super-Mare, including the advow- 
 son of the living. His son, who had taken Holy 
 Orders, for a long period of years discharged there 
 the duties of an ideal Squarson. The Manor House, 
 with its exquisitely kept garden, was an object of 
 much interest to many visitors. It was decorated
 
 112 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 with the armorial bearings of Somersetshire families, 
 and the rooms bore the names of houses or localities 
 connected with the owner. 
 
 Prebendary Stephenson at the outset of life met 
 with an accident that permanently lamed him. To 
 save the exertion of climbing the stairs more 
 frequently than necessary a lift was contrived at 
 the Manor, one of the first (if not the very earliest) 
 used in a private house. It was his custom to 
 assemble all his servants, the gardeners and outdoor 
 people, as well as the domestics, for prayers at 
 other hours than morning and evening. Probably 
 the arrangements that prevailed more nearly 
 resembled those at Little Gidding in some par- 
 ticulars than anything else. He was an admirable 
 preacher, combining (a very rare gift) great readi- 
 ness with notable lucidity. He died not long since, 
 a true patriarch in the best sense, full of years and 
 benign care for his tenants and dependents. Such 
 men were to be found (though few indeed like him, 
 or his friend Prebendary Horner at Mells) in the 
 last generation. They would be very hard to find 
 to-day, and that, not because there are not men, 
 good and true, who carry out to the full the highest 
 code of responsibility, but because in the inevitable 
 changes of English life and thought such a com- 
 bination is scarcely possible. It is, however, though 
 exceedingly rare, still to be found among us. 
 
 My old friend was a most diligent pastor. Amidst
 
 AMONG MY FATHER'S FRIENDS 113 
 all his avocations nothing was allowed to interfere 
 with that diligent house to house visitation which 
 he well understood to be the only sound basis of 
 good parochial work. Four times in every year 
 every family was personally visited, while, of 
 course, the daily ministrations to needs spiritual 
 and temporal was independently maintained. 
 
 He was what is known as a traditional Evan- 
 gelical, but if ever there was a man of generous 
 spirit and breadth of mind it was he. When he 
 was nearly seventy years of age, and still single- 
 handed, he began a weekly celebration at 7.30 a.m. 
 As he was wont to say, " Wisdom neither began, 
 nor will end with me." 
 
 As might have been expected, he clung steadfastly 
 to the old relations of business and social life. The 
 modern habit of taking the custom of a family away 
 from the local tradesman was particularly repellent 
 to him. A good many years ago he issued a sort 
 of manifesto on the subject in a letter to the Press. 
 He gloried in having his clothes made even by the 
 tailor in the village, and being shod by the shoe- 
 maker hard by. Had there been a village hatter, 
 he said "he should have crowned me." And the 
 end of it all was, in his own vigorous words, " that 
 he was better off on his own modest acres dwelling 
 among his own people, than if he had put his 
 money in ' the Zulu ninety per cents ! ' Doubtless 
 he was. 
 
 9
 
 114 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 I must not close this chapter without honourable 
 mention of one name more. James Cobb, cousin 
 of Gerard, the Cambridge composer who has so 
 recently passed from us, and of the actuary who for 
 many years discharged the legal duties of the 
 Lower House of Convocation, was a close neigh- 
 bour at Torquay. His quiet and retired life was 
 one of remarkable usefulness. It was devoted to 
 the counteracting of pernicious literature by the 
 effectual means of supplying bright and wholesome 
 reading. His stories have had a wide circulation, 
 and he will be long and deeply regretted in many 
 quarters. Probably his best piece of work is the 
 admirable translation of Clery's journal while in 
 attendance on Louis XVI. in the prison of the 
 Temple, under the title of "A Faithful Servant" 
 a book worthy of the widest circulation. Mr. Cobb 
 was a great traveller, and much of his magazine 
 work was due to French and German sources. In 
 his earlier days he was not familiar with the latter 
 language. It was the time of the older coinage, 
 and he used to say humorously that he employed 
 one sovereign remedy against being wronged in 
 financial matters. Whatever change he received 
 he shook his head. This brought either a further 
 instalment, or such an explosion as to satisfy him 
 that he had received what was due.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 TIVERTON 
 
 I WAS for a considerable time one of a group of 
 pupils with a well-known and successful private 
 tutor, the late Rev. J. Richey, at the then somewhat 
 remote village of Stoodleigh, situated on one of the 
 hills that border the beautiful valley of the Exe. 
 The property was then owned by Mr. Thomas 
 Daniel, a son of one of the merchant princes of 
 Bristol, and in those pre-bounty days a man of large 
 wealth. He had done a great deal towards making 
 the district more accessible by constructing a new 
 road from the river level, spanning the stream by 
 an iron bridge, and was altogether a distinctly 
 improving landlord. He was an honest, bluff, 
 kindly gentleman of a bygone school, with a genial 
 welcome, and a well-furnished board. I owed a 
 great deal to him as a growing lad, my first dinner 
 party was at his table, and he always had an eye 
 for the welfare of his young neighbours. Thus
 
 n6 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 began a friendship which has lasted on with those 
 
 that came after him to the present hour. 
 
 Amongst the ties that were then formed was a 
 most pleasant one with his son-in-law, the late Rev. 
 Robert Carew, of Bickleigh, a fine specimen of an 
 old Oxford man and English gentleman. I revisited 
 that charming Devonshire village (where the Exe 
 runs swiftly below the stone bridge) but a little 
 while before he died, renewing in my friend's 
 advanced old age the kindly associations of my 
 early life. I had not long before come across a 
 very singular story about a collateral branch which 
 I sent him for his amusement. Happening to be 
 a guest at a Somersetshire house, and being duly 
 shown the interesting and admirably restored parish 
 church, I noticed at the north chancel door the life- 
 size stone effigy of a lady. I had already observed 
 the very familiar crest of the Carew family in the 
 church, and I was told the following bit of family 
 history. A Carew of times past had jilted the lady 
 of his choice. She bided her time, and left direc- 
 tions that after her decease her figure should be 
 placed in the situation I have described. Thus her 
 faithless swain was to be perpetually reproached by 
 her mute remonstrance. A piece of retaliation, 
 this, which is probably of a solitary description. 
 Mr. Carew inherited the Collipriest estate on the 
 death of his brother, but returned to his old home 
 at the Rectory, and there, beneath the shadow of
 
 TIVERTON 117 
 
 the church which he had served so long and 
 restored so well, he ended his days. 
 
 Old-world ways were still lingering on in the 
 close of the fifties, and a service as conducted in 
 Stoodleigh Church when I was a pupil at the 
 Rectory would considerably astonish our young 
 friends of the present generation. Certainly the 
 old orchestra was gone, though it lived still in the 
 neighbouring parish of Washfield, and the signal to 
 strike up was the arrival of old Mr. Worth, of 
 Worth, at the churchyard gate. I think Mr. 
 Baring-Gould somewhere laments the dispersion 
 of the Church band, and very rightly so, as it seems 
 to me. Why could it not have been worked in 
 with the revival of better order and better music ? 
 I am bound to say that the difficulties were 
 immense. Still it is a pity that such an element 
 of diffused interest has disappeared. Well, in 
 Stoodleigh Church a good barrel-organ had replaced 
 the fiddles and the flutes, and Tate and Brady had 
 yielded room to a Hymn Book of a very different 
 type, however, from those with which we are now 
 familiar. When the hymn was given out, and the 
 tune had been played over, the congregation rose, 
 and turning round, faced the singing gallery. Some 
 of the tunes, by the way, belonged to the good old 
 Psalmody, the loss of which is bitterly to be 
 regretted, and for which much modern composition 
 appears to some of us a very indifferent substitute 
 indeed.
 
 ii8 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Our tutor was a learned and deeply religious man 
 of the older type of Low Churchman. He still kept 
 up the custom of walking to church in his gown, and 
 this, as far as I can recollect, was the single old 
 tradition that he maintained. All of us who read 
 with him owe a very deep debt of gratitude for his 
 sound scholarship and careful teaching. 
 
 The prevailing type of churchmanship among 
 the clergy was the same advanced Protestantism. 
 I remember a discussion being held by a local 
 clerical society as to the advisability of observing 
 Saints' Days and Ember Days. The terms of the 
 proposed debate naively enough "gave away" the 
 whole supposed position of these excellent men as 
 clergy of the Church of England, as the wording 
 went on to state that such observance was at 
 present limited to a party. 
 
 During my sojourn in the valley of the Exe the 
 neighbouring town of Tiverton was represented by 
 Lord Palmerston, who had as his colleagues, first 
 Mr. Heathcote, and afterwards the Hon. George 
 Denman. From the latter I came to know some- 
 thing of election times in the ancient borough. 
 Lord Palmerston's popularity was of course 
 unbounded. At his last election, only three months 
 before his death, in all the pain and discomfort of 
 illness, he went out, Mr. Denman told me, to a 
 distant farm, the residence of an old supporter, and 
 with difficulty made his way upstairs to see the
 
 TIVERTON 119 
 
 voter, who was ill in bed. He had a custom of 
 asking his elderly constituents, in a confidential 
 tone, how the "old complaint" was getting on. 
 The effect either way was admirable. Either the 
 person addressed was in good health, and delighted 
 to disown an infirmity, or (and this was, of course, 
 the more frequent sequel) the gratification at a 
 supposed friendly recollection was unbounded. 
 "Only to think that your Lordship remembered 
 that!" 
 
 At his last election a remarkable evidence of the 
 feeling entertained in Tiverton for the veteran 
 statesman was afforded. It became known to the 
 Conservative agent that his position on the poll was 
 being endangered by "splits," and a confidential 
 note was at once sent to his committee room that 
 the proper steps might be taken. 
 
 This same election (1865) was an unfortunate one 
 for Mr. Denman, who lost his seat by three votes. 
 Young people who have grown up under the Ballot 
 Act cannot imagine the tremendous excitement that 
 used to attend a contest conducted by open voting. 
 The state of the poll used to be exhibited on a 
 board like the score at a cricket match, and as the 
 hour of closing drew near, the anxiety as to the 
 votes that remained unpolled was keen indeed. 
 
 And here is a strange episode that occurred at 
 that memorable struggle, as I heard it from Mr. 
 Denman himself.
 
 120 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 He was advertised to address the electors on a 
 certain Monday morning. In order to fulfil his 
 engagement it was necessary for him to leave 
 Paddington by the 9.15 express, a train familiar 
 enough to West-country folks in the first days of 
 through travelling. He had taken the precaution 
 of ordering a cab over night, and was quietly eating 
 an early breakfast, when attention was called to two 
 or three men who seemed to be hanging about in the 
 neighbourhood of his house. He thought little, 
 however, of the matter, but presently sent his servant 
 to put his luggage on the cab which was due to 
 arrive. The cab approached the door, but before the 
 portmanteau could be located, one of the mysterious 
 strangers jumped in, and was driven rapidly away. 
 And when this happened a second time, it became 
 evident that something very definite was intended. 
 So Mr. Denman consulted his watch, and directing 
 his luggage to be sent after him, he buttoned his 
 coat, and calling to his aid all his old Cambridge 
 training, took a bee-line for Paddington from Lower 
 Eaton Place. It was a curious fact that by 
 unprecedented ill fortune he met not one empty cab, 
 till too near the terminus to be of any service to 
 him. He dashed through the booking office on to 
 the platform, seized the handle of a carriage door as 
 the train was actually starting, and flung himself 
 into a compartment. On arriving at Tiverton he 
 found his committee in a state of extreme anxiety,
 
 TIVERTON 121 
 
 which gave place to astonishment and relief on his 
 appearance, for the walls of the town were covered 
 with placards warning the Liberal electors that their 
 candidate would not keep his engagement to address 
 them ! Mr. Denman added that of all the smart 
 things he had ever known done, this was the 
 smartest. It failed however in this particular, that 
 the determination of a powerful and most resourceful 
 man had not been taken sufficiently into account. 
 
 Those who were privileged to possess Mr. Justice 
 Denman's friendship will always preserve the 
 recollection of a personality at once robust and 
 singularly winning. A most conscientious judge, a 
 graceful scholar, and a thorough-going sympathiser 
 with the best and soundest side of athletic pursuits, 
 he was all this, but there belonged to him besides, 
 in a marked degree, the somewhat rare but unfailing 
 charm of good manners. Nor did his interest in, 
 and attention to others stop short at the point of a 
 mere well-bred show of courtesy. When he could 
 see his way he would spare no pains in following up 
 a matter for the advantage of another. I do not go 
 
 o o 
 
 on to touch here on ground more sacred still. 
 
 Talking of elections, in the year 1836 or 1837, 
 there was a contest in the county of Devon 
 between Lord John Russell and Mr. Parker. A 
 young Christ Church man, the late Mr. W. Blundell 
 Fortescue, who, like everybody else, was keenly 
 interested in the struggle, was going back to Oxford
 
 122 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 a day late, having been detained by a cold. For 
 the same reason, he was travelling as an inside 
 passenger by the coach to Exeter. At Newton 
 Abbott a number of people came round the vehicle 
 while the horses were being changed, outside the 
 " Globe," to hear the news. Now our young traveller 
 was a strong Blue, and not impossibly this was 
 known, for a local Radical called through the 
 window to him, " Did you see Parker bird's-nesting 
 as you came up ?" The question perhaps related to 
 some topic of the moment which has disappeared. 
 Anyhow, it was intended as a barbed shaft The 
 retort was speedy " No, but I saw Russell sheep- 
 stealing ! " Fortunately at this moment the coach 
 drove off, and so the humours of a long-obscured 
 controversy did not pass into the forcible stage that 
 likely enough would have followed. On reaching 
 Christ Church, our late-arrived friend waited on the 
 Dean (Gaisford), who greeted him with the 
 suspicious question, " Election fever, I suppose?" 
 But as the undergraduate was retiring, his superior 
 called him back. " How was the poll when you 
 came away?" 
 
 But to return to Tiverton. In those days a 
 pleasant feature of the old town was the water that 
 flowed abundantly by the street side, and gave a 
 peculiar freshness to the place. The original 
 Blundell's School buildings were, of course, then in 
 use, and the modern developments were unthought
 
 TIVERTON 123 
 
 of. One of the greatest achievements of Arch- 
 bishop Temple's episcopate at Exeter was the 
 rearrangement of the parochial disposition that had 
 long prevailed. As is well known, there were four 
 Rectors, who came like Cathedral Canons into 
 successive "residences." But a parish church is 
 not a Cathedral, and my readers will not need to 
 be told that there were all the elements of persistent 
 difference and difficulty always ready to hand. It 
 was a very complicated task that Bishop Temple 
 carried so skilfully through. It would have been 
 yet more perplexing a generation or so earlier. 
 The late Sub-Dean of St. Paul's, Mr. Fiennes- 
 Webber, related to me an example of this in regard 
 of one of the older London parishes. The sub- 
 division had given much offence to some sturdy 
 stickler for the old rights, and when at the luncheon 
 that followed the consecration of a new church, a 
 stranger asked him what the dedication was, he 
 replied, "St. Job, sir." "Dear me!" replied the 
 amazed inquirer, "what a very singular dedication ! " 
 "Not at all, sir, I assure you. It has become of 
 late quite a usual one ! " 
 
 The daily matins, I think, had always been main- 
 tained. And one lady, who attained a venerable 
 age, and had seen many changes in her time, a 
 number of years ago deplored to me the meagre 
 attendance that then prevailed, as showing great 
 disrespect to the clergy ! a fault, this, of which that
 
 124 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 staunch and true-hearted woman had certainly not 
 
 been guilty. 
 
 Mr. W. Blundell Fortescue, whom I have 
 mentioned in this chapter, has described to me 
 how, on taking his seat as a Governor of the 
 famous school when he attained his majority, seeing 
 that he was Founder's kin, it fell to his lot to hand 
 over to a certain lad, who was leaving, his last prizes. 
 That lad was Frederick Temple, whose great career 
 began with the Balliol Scholarship he took from 
 Blundell's. It was a curious fact that the then Squire 
 of Bridwell, Mr. Clarke, driving past the school one 
 day, pointed out young Temple to his son, from 
 whom I have the story, saying, " That boy will some 
 day be a Bishop." 
 
 My first sight of the late Archbishop was in the 
 early days of January, 1870. I was on my way 
 into Cornwall, and at Plymouth the newly con- 
 secrated Bishop of Exeter got into the train. The 
 strong feeling that had been aroused by his nomina- 
 tion to the episcopate was fresh in all our minds, 
 and I was not then disposed to look with favour on 
 one whom I subsequently came to know well, and 
 to view with exceptional reverence and admiration. 
 My cousin by marriage, George Collyer Harris, of 
 whom much already has been said in these pages, 
 was one of the considerable minority in the greater 
 chapter of Exeter Cathedral, who had felt it their 
 bounden duty to give an adverse vote on the
 
 TIVERTON 12$ 
 
 receipt of the Conge d'Elire. It was the Bishop's 
 first entrance on the western portion of his diocese, 
 and he was received on the platform of Saltash 
 Station by the Corporation in state. How rapidly 
 he won his way in Devonshire and Cornwall, how 
 thoroughly he disarmed all opposition by his amazing 
 industry, and, as all came to recognise, by the 
 wholeheartedness of his faith, and the splendid 
 example of his life, is a story too well known for 
 further repetition. One characteristic anecdote of 
 those first years at Exeter I will give. He had 
 prepared a bold and comprehensive scheme of 
 Temperance organisation for the diocese, which was 
 duly laid before a gathering of officials and others. 
 One excellent cleric of a bygone day, astonished at 
 the scale on which operations were planned, ventured 
 an inquiry, " Who, my lord, will carry such an 
 enterprise into effect ? " The reply was utterly free 
 from all personal vanity, it was one that only a 
 really great man could have rightly made : "I shall." 
 And so indeed he did. 
 
 Temperance meetings thirty years ago were 
 sometimes a service of danger, and many of my 
 readers may recall a shameful scene at the Cathedral 
 city, when the platform was rushed by a ruffianly 
 mob, and amidst the uproar, and flinging of bags of 
 flour, the Bishop remained calm and undaunted in 
 his place. Many were the stories that grew up 
 around his remarkable personality : some of them
 
 126 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 very likely were true while, as often happens in such 
 cases, some incident gave the keynote for subsequent 
 inventions. At least two living instances in the 
 Oxford of to-day might be cited in support. But 
 some, and unquestionably clever, "Temple" anec- 
 dotes cannot stand serious criticism, and an English 
 Bishop told me that once, while waiting at Fulham 
 for some delayed business, those who were present 
 examined the current stories of the day, with the 
 result that not one of them stood the test. 
 
 It was my own good fortune to be able to set 
 down here an anecdote which can be fully vouched 
 for, as my authority is no other than that of the 
 great Archbishop himself. The narrative was given 
 under these circumstances. A speech had been 
 made at an Executive meeting of the Church of 
 England Temperance Society, as to the deplorably 
 defective administration of the law that continually 
 allows people under the influence of drink to travel 
 by railway, to the extreme annoyance of their fellow 
 passengers. I may remark, in passing, that there is 
 no more difficult duty to be performed by railway 
 officials than that of preventing intemperate persons 
 from entering a train. In point of fact, the obstacles 
 in their way are so numerous as to compel them 
 frequently to go against their own better judgment. 
 We have here a state of things that calls very 
 urgently for redress. 
 
 Well, the speech was ended, and had been
 
 TIVERTON 127 
 
 sympathetically received, when the Chairman said, 
 " Now, I will tell you a story. I was travelling 
 
 in Belgium with my sister, and at a man 
 
 entered our compartment in an intoxicated state. I 
 immediately went to the stationmaster, and re- 
 quested that he should be removed. This was 
 readily done, but then what was the next step to 
 be taken, and how was the man to be disposed of? 
 The stationmaster solved the problem in this way. 
 He went down the train, and inquired at each com- 
 partment whether there were any English there ? 
 This was the case in two or three instances, but at 
 last he lighted on one where there were none, and 
 into that carriage he promptly put the drunken 
 Belgian." Wise stationmaster ! there were no 
 tiresome people there to write to the Times, or 
 otherwise to make a fuss. 
 
 It was through my connection with the Society to 
 which I have alluded that I came into relations 
 with the Archbishop, marked on his part by un- 
 deviating kindness. His chairmanship of our 
 Executive was a new experience to me I had 
 never seen anything like it; and well do I recall 
 a certain memorable day, now some years since, 
 when a particularly critical question was before us 
 in the Boardroom at Westminster. It was a tro- 
 pically hot day, the room was crowded, and the 
 proceedings were of an absorbing and anxious 
 character. When the luncheon interval was reached,
 
 128 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 every member made for the welcome open air with 
 all possible despatch all save the chairman, who 
 sat on through the hour allowed for rest and refresh- 
 ment, intent on the work before him. At 2 p.m. he 
 called order, and immediately resumed operations. 
 Indeed, he was a Chairman of an unsurpassable 
 type. No matter how long or how complicated the 
 discussion might be, he never lost the clue, never 
 lost patience, and never allowed the affairs to get 
 out of hand for a single instant. 
 
 One day, at the time that he suffered greatly 
 from impaired eyesight, I met him coming upstairs, 
 and he shook hands with me with a kindly greeting. 
 " I know your voice," he said, "but I can't see your 
 face." 
 
 The last time I saw him was at the Palace at 
 Hereford, where we were both guests of the kindly 
 Bishop. I took the opportunity of telling him that 
 I had recently seen Mr. Fortescue, who gave him 
 his leaving-prizes at Blundell's School. In doing so 
 I made an error as to the headmaster who presided 
 on that occasion, and was immediately set right. 
 The morning of that day he was at his very best, 
 genially addressing the Cathedral School boys, who, 
 according to custom, had sent him a Latin letter, 
 asking his intervention on behalf of a whole holiday. 
 In the evening he addressed a densely crowded 
 audience at the County Hall. He appeared to be 
 in marvellous vigour for a man of his age and
 
 TIVERTON 129 
 
 laborious life. I never saw him again. Before the 
 year was out, he had entered the Paradise of God. 
 
 This chapter must close with one last recollection 
 of Mr. Justice Denman. Not very long before his re- 
 tirement from the Bench, he had occasion to go down 
 to Cambridge, and he slept in College. Over night 
 he was, to all seeming, in his usual health, but about 
 three in the morning he awoke with a sharp pain in 
 his side. He took in the situation very clearly, viz., 
 that there was something wrong, and also that no 
 servant would come to his room till seven at the 
 earliest. He possessed a remarkable gift (like 
 Wellington and Napoleon) of going to sleep when 
 he desired it, and so he steadily addressed himself 
 to such repose and quiet as was possible. When he 
 was regularly called, the pain was as bad as ever. 
 He had an important judgment, however, to deliver 
 in London, so he sent a telegram to his doctor to 
 meet him in his private room at the Law Courts, 
 took the train to town, and proceeded to his duties. 
 On examination, as my readers will have already 
 concluded, he was found to be suffering from 
 pleurisy, and was immediately driven home, and 
 to bed. The episode, is, I think, very indicative of 
 his habitual coolness and resolution. 
 
 10
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 MAGDALEN 
 
 WHEN I went to matriculate at Magdalen, I put up 
 at the old "Angel Inn," which then occupied the 
 ground adjacent to Cooper's shop. It was quite 
 a relic of bygone time, and the rooms were dis- 
 tinguished by the names of the Colleges. When 
 one is eighteen, one does not distinguish the 
 intervals of time longer or shorter as we come 
 to do in later life, and when a friend pointed out 
 the still barely legible inscription on the wall of 
 All Souls, " No Bristol murder," I did not realise 
 how nearly those scrawled words connected the 
 undergraduate of that day with a world in the 
 University and out of it, which had wholly and 
 for ever vanished. The Bristol riots of 1831 had 
 little enough significance, either, for the lad stand- 
 ing on the threshold of College life. After matri- 
 culation I went back to London, where I was 
 reading, as it was not expected that any rooms 
 
 130
 
 MAGDALEN 131 
 
 would be free before the ensuing January term. 
 But about a fortnight later it was found that a set 
 was vacant after all, and so I was summoned into 
 residence. It was, I well remember, October 3ist 
 when I arrived. I came at an awkward hour, for 
 the servants had not come back into College, and I 
 was deposited with my impedimenta at the lodge, 
 and there was nobody to attend to me. Chapel was 
 going on modern Magdalen men will be astonished 
 when I say the hour was 4 p.m. and I strolled into 
 the northern cloister, and listened to the glorious 
 tide of sound that rolled through the venerable 
 buildings, while the painted windows glowed in 
 the twilight from the lights within (I may here 
 mention that Chapel at 9 p.m. was also an institution 
 of those days thus there were four services on week- 
 days). Presently "young Joseph " arrived; he was 
 the son of "old Joseph," who was still an active 
 College retainer, and conducted me to my rooms 
 at the top of the kitchen staircase ; I might allow- 
 ably say the old kitchen staircase, for it was a vastly 
 different place in 1861 from what it is in 1904. One 
 of my first discoveries was the colony of mice who 
 held high revel round, and also, as I averred, the 
 more formidable population of rats. These, like a raw 
 lad, I promptly resolved to exterminate, and so pro- 
 ceeded to deal with them by poison, with results, as 
 regards my neighbours, and their outspoken opinion 
 of me, which I need not further specify. After two
 
 132 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 terms of these rooms, I applied at Collections 
 for a change of accommodation. Such an advance 
 was not customary for so junior a man, and the 
 Dean, I think, explained to the President that my 
 request was grounded on the annoyance of the rats. 
 Whereupon the President with a certain grimness 
 of humour replied that if any man were to be 
 located in the rooms complained of, Mr. Tetley 
 ought to be that man, seeing that his stature 
 afforded a prospect of holding out longer than 
 other people. However, my petition was granted, 
 and with my first Easter Term, I moved into 
 No. IV. Chaplain's Quad, where I had a range of 
 four windows looking pleasantly over the Grove, 
 where all through the late spring the nightingale's 
 song was heard. 
 
 Dinner was at 5 p.m. for the last time in my 
 freshman's term. The hour was changed to six 
 with the beginning of 1862. At the same time 
 the growing number of Commoners occasioned the 
 institution of a junior table in the middle of the Hall. 
 Till then the whole of the centre space, and all 
 the left-hand side, except for the Academical Clerk's 
 table, were unoccupied. Somewhere about this 
 same time, the recitation of grace after meat was 
 considerably modified. In my first Magdalen days, 
 it was a lengthy affair, and was given antiphonally 
 by two Demies at a lectern facing towards the high 
 table. A president was appointed at each of the
 
 MAGDALEN 133 
 
 Commoners' tables, with whom rested the responsi- 
 bility of ordering dinner. The patience of poor 
 old Whiting, the cook, must have been sorely 
 exercised by the way we tried our 'prentice hand. 
 There was, of course, a price per head, beyond 
 which we were not allowed to go. This price, by 
 the way, was lowered in 1862, the Michaelmas term 
 of 1 86 1 having been the last in which the old and 
 more expensive scale prevailed. What between the 
 ideas of the diners, and the limit assigned by the 
 College, Whiting's task was no easy one. "It can- 
 not be done, sir, it really cannot," he used to say, 
 and then one had to try again. On one occasion I 
 fell into dire disgrace. As head of a table, I had 
 ordered a dish with which I was familiar at home 
 chops stewed with macaroni. Somehow there was 
 a mistake in carrying out my wishes, and an ex- 
 ceedingly doubtful preparation was produced for my 
 angry companions to eat. And I remember with 
 undiminished clearness the storm of indignation with 
 which one of the number, afterwards a well-known 
 Lancer, denounced me with having provided "boiled 
 chops " for his dinner. 
 
 There was a well-intentioned rule as to the 
 youngest commoners carving. As I sat, shy and 
 awkward to a degree, a new arrival in hall, a 
 couple of wild ducks were placed before me, and I 
 was politely invited to commence my task. Hope- 
 less, and painfully blushing, I murmured my total
 
 134 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 inability. " Beg your pardon, sir, Senior Com- 
 moner's compliments and you are expected to carve 
 them." Desperate, I seized the knife, and by sheer 
 force succeeded in hewing through the bird trans- 
 versely. My awkwardness secured my deliverance. 
 An angry order, " Take it away from him," left 
 me confused but unencumbered. I wonder, by the 
 way, whether the failure to appear in a black coat 
 at dinner is still visited with a "sconce" of a bottle 
 of Common-room sherry? There was another 
 custom of requiring the junior man to eat a dish of 
 furmenty on the fourth Sunday in Lent. Happily 
 for me I was never in the position to be thus 
 provided, for one or two men came up after me, 
 and before the day of ordeal. 
 
 On May 29th the loving-cup was passed round 
 the Hall after dinner, and the curious old punning 
 toast given, "Jus suum cuique" which may be 
 freely rendered thus : " Every man his wine, and 
 the King his own." If the custom is not now 
 maintained, the reason would doubtless be the very 
 great increase of numbers. But it is possible that 
 it still exists. 
 
 I have alluded to the President. His dignified 
 bearing well became the College. I have often 
 since those days thought that Sydney Smith's 
 saying as to Bishop Blomfield might be applied 
 most appropriately to our old chief. His appear- 
 ance as he passed to his stall was so exactly that of
 
 MAGDALEN 135 
 
 the " Church of England " going to Chapel. And 
 his stateliness was the least part of him, so to say. 
 He was a truly good man, a sound old-fashioned 
 divine, a thorough Latinist, and a most equitable 
 ruler. My readers will have noticed that he pos- 
 sessed a sense of humour. Once upon a time an 
 undergraduate, the story ran, was delated to him 
 for discoursing the strains of comic songs on 
 Sunday evening. For some good reason, doubt- 
 less, the President considered that the case might 
 
 best be met with a pleasantry. " Mr. , I must 
 
 request, sir, that you will not sing mundane songs 
 on Sunday." It was while I was residing that the 
 President took a chill on " progress," and became 
 so seriously ill that he was obliged to leave Oxford 
 for a considerable part of the winter, and reside at 
 Torquay. I have been told that he rose from his 
 bed, and went out at night to minister to a dying 
 man, at the very time that his own health was in 
 an anxious state. He recovered, and lived for 
 many years afterwards. While he was staying at 
 Torquay, and under my father's care, the latter, 
 coming out of his chambers on the Strand one 
 evening, saw the President out walking. The 
 hour was too late for safety, and my father stopped 
 him and sent him straight home in his own 
 carriage. Feeling anxious about the risk that had 
 been run, my father called the next morning to see 
 to his patient, and found to his great relief that he
 
 136 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 was none the worse for his imprudence. Then the 
 President said to him, "Are you aware that you 
 have done what no one else has ever done to me ? " 
 " What is that? " was the inquiring reply. " Why, 
 sir, you met me in the street, you proctorised me, 
 and you sent me to my College ! " No, indeed, I 
 do not think the President had ever experienced 
 an encounter of that sort with the custodians of the 
 University. 
 
 And this incident reminds me of another, and a 
 very different proctorial matter. It must have 
 been about the middle of my time that an out- 
 College man played some trick on those august 
 personages. It was said that he had turned the key 
 left in the door of their official room. Be this as it 
 may, he was seen and pursued. The chase grew 
 hot, and the fugitive had only just succeeded in 
 getting within Magdalen when the bull-dogs came 
 up. But it was dark, and he was well out of reach. 
 The Proctor communicated with the College 
 authorities, but the search was in vain. And it 
 very well might be, for their quarry had crossed 
 over to the new buildings, where an old Etonian 
 friend of his had rooms on the ground floor. 
 There he lay perdu till the quest was quiet, and 
 then, gently lowering himself into the deer-park, 
 with a cap and gown borrowed from his host, he 
 crossed over to the corner by Holywell, and pre- 
 sently entered his own lodge in academical costume.
 
 MAGDALEN 137 
 
 He was never discovered, but the adventure, 
 oddly enough, considerably affected me. The 
 morning after the exciting chase I have described, 
 the Dean (it is a pleasure to give his name, 
 Humphrey Cholmeley), sent for me, and proceeded 
 to inform me that "an outrage" on University 
 discipline had taken place the previous evening, 
 and that he was very sorry to add that there was 
 reason to connect the affair with me, as a man had 
 passed out of College close on midnight, giving my 
 name as that of the undergraduate from whose 
 rooms he had come. This was the first I had 
 heard of such a thing, and I strenuously denied 
 any knowledge whatever of the proceeding. 
 Cholmeley only asked me, " On your honour, is 
 this so ? " and when I answered in the affirmative 
 he said immediately, "That is quite sufficient." 
 I never was troubled again about the matter, but 
 I did eventually discover how it came about. A 
 man who had rooms near me wanted leave to stay 
 up during the Easter vacation. It would have 
 been very difficult to obtain it, if he was thought to 
 be keeping late hours. However, on that parti- 
 cular evening, he had some men in his rooms. 
 Time wore on, and when one of them who 
 belonged to another College took his departure, it 
 was near the witching hour. So, to avoid any 
 complaint about his host, my name was given at 
 the lodge without my knowledge of what was
 
 138 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 done. Consequently, when the porter's list was 
 shown, there seemed to be a promising clue of the 
 escapade in regard to the Proctors. As a matter of 
 fact, they were totally distinct, but Humphrey 
 Cholmeley's gentlemanly conduct saved me from 
 what might easily have been a very vexatious 
 business. 
 
 The mention of the porter reminds me that this 
 official was still a "tonsor" when I first went up, 
 and that on the request of a friend who was staying 
 with me in College, he came in the morning 'and 
 shaved him. 
 
 But it was not only from the visit of the genuine 
 Proctor that Magdalen formed the subject of con- 
 versation at this time. A pseudo-proctor from our 
 own walls, drest in a little brief authority, and 
 accompanied by a bull-dog whose claim to attend 
 his leader was on a level with that of the leader to 
 represent the interests of law and order, made his 
 way along the streets, was gravely bowed to by a 
 don of his own College, and somehow escaped 
 detection. There was a photograph taken of the 
 audacious couple which may still be found in the 
 books of old Magdalen men. The sad part of my 
 story is that both are no longer amongst us. 
 
 There was a newly-enacted law in 1861 that 
 every Magdalen undergraduate should for his first 
 year attend Dr. Daubeny's lectures at the Botanic 
 Gardens. This arose, I imagine, from the endow-
 
 MAGDALEN 139 
 
 ment of the Waynflete Professorships from the ten 
 suppressed fellowships of the College. I had no 
 particular pleasure, it may readily be believed, on 
 being singled out by the Professor on my first 
 appearance as the " son of a man of science," and 
 being invited to take a front seat. Truth to tell, 
 we keenly resented the obligation to go every week 
 to this particular Lecture. I daresay if we had 
 been ordinarily wise, we might have learned a good 
 deal, though there was no actual task enjoined. 
 But we were silly boys, and used to evade the 
 obligation to the utmost of undergraduate power, 
 which is saying a great deal. At last it reached 
 such a point that we waited till 12.15 before we 
 chose to enter. But also at last dear old 
 Daubeny's patience finally gave way. I recollect 
 arriving late as usual, and finding him sitting silent 
 in his chair. Presently he got up and said, 
 " Gentlemen, as you have done me the honour to 
 arrive fifteen minutes after time, I will ask you 
 to remain here fifteen minutes later than one 
 o'clock." There was no help for it. We were 
 fairly caught, and every old Oxford man will appre- 
 ciate the inconvenience of being too late for the 
 College servants on their round of inquiry as to 
 luncheon arrangements. 
 
 The author of that most charming tale, " Ravens- 
 hoe," with a touch of true Oxford recollection, 
 describes his hero when anaesthetised for an opera-
 
 140 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 tion faintly being reminded of Dr. Daubeny's 
 experiments. They were a great feature of his 
 learned addresses, and were conducted by his 
 butler, whom he invariably addressed by both 
 names as " John Harris," but, unfortunately, they 
 did not invariably come off, and sometimes the 
 warning of an impending explosion was followed by 
 an ill-timed silence, and, possibly, vice versa. After 
 I had taken my degree I was honoured one night 
 by an invitation to dine with the Professor. There 
 were various pundits there, and the conversation 
 became so engrossing that our host omitted to ring 
 for lights. It was in the height of summer, and we 
 had dined without artificial illumination. In this 
 obscurity my next-door neighbour, a diner-out of 
 another order, filled his glass from two different 
 decanters, and subsequently expressed his opinion 
 as to the obvious defects of scientific men. 
 
 The first Bursar with whom I had business rela- 
 tions was Rev. Andrew Edwards, B.D. He was, I 
 think, called Mr. Edwards, with a certain emphasis, 
 because, unlike the majority of the Fellows in Holy 
 Orders, he had not proceeded to the Doctor's 
 degree. We used to receive a notice that the Bursar 
 would attend in the Bursary on a particular day 
 within certain hours to receive payment. The good 
 Bursar belonged to a school which now, to our 
 great loss, scarcely survives stately, courteous, 
 old-fashioned if you will. Certainly there was no
 
 MAGDALEN 141 
 
 likelihood of mistaking him for a butler. Yet this, 
 until he had seen him, was the extremely funny 
 error into which one of my cotemporaries fell. Let 
 Magdalen (or, for that matter, all Oxford) men of 
 the early sixties fancy an undergraduate appearing 
 in the jacket of the day, and the still somewhat new 
 "pot " hat, on such an occasion as paying Battells 
 (" Tetley debet pro Batellis " used to be on the slip 
 of blue paper that recorded the liabilities), and they 
 can also picture the scene that ensued. The culprit 
 took the highly inopportune occasion of asking per- 
 mission to change his old sash windows into case- 
 ments, so as to secure a larger supply of air. 
 Needless to say, he was promptly refused. But 
 being, like Ulysses, a man of many counsels, he 
 removed the windows altogether, and all through 
 the superb summer of 1862 certain rooms in the 
 cloisters might have been seen, as possibly they 
 were in their primitive condition, with apertures 
 unglazed. 
 
 Dr. Bloxam was still resident when I entered the 
 College. As I write I seem to see the tall, slight 
 figure, clad in a cloak which was fastened at the 
 neck by what some one once most aptly described 
 as a " small door chain." And then there were two 
 others, prominent men among the Dons, as unlike 
 as any two could be, John Rigaud and Dr. Fisher. 
 The latter was elected from Brasenose to Magdalen, 
 and successful against Harold Browne, he once told
 
 142 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 me, as his competitor. It would be to repeat an 
 oft-told tale to say how many years he lived in 
 College, and what a typical English country gentle- 
 man he was. Perhaps a considerable number of 
 people were quite unaware what an excellent scholar 
 he was also, and how carefully he kept in touch not 
 only with the classics but also with modern French. 
 
 His stories of Dr. Routh were a subject of great 
 amusement, and one of his own personal experiences 
 at the old President's lodgings I will take leave to 
 tell, in the hope that to some at least of my readers 
 it may be new. Both the President and Mrs. 
 Routh were so exceedingly deaf that the servants 
 had come to presume on the fact, and to forget that 
 other people's hearing was normal. It so happened 
 that Dr. Fisher was dining with them one day when 
 there was a dish served which was much to the old 
 man's taste, but his faithful consort, knowing it to 
 be unfit for him, interposed with, " No, dearest, not 
 that." Whereupon the guest heard the butler 
 remark, " Bother the woman ! If she were my wife 
 I'd poison her." 
 
 I think all old members of the College would 
 agree with me in saying that Rigaud was one of 
 the most simply good men they ever knew. His 
 blameless life was ended out of the precincts, at his 
 house in Holywell, where he lived with his sister. 
 The " General," his brother, so long a familiar 
 figure in Magdalen, died some years ago, and with
 
 MAGDALEN 143 
 
 the demise of Miss Rigaud a family name that 
 seemed an integral part of the Society ceased to be 
 in Oxford. 
 
 My first tutor was Chaloner Chute, who after- 
 wards succeeded to his paternal estate, the Vyne, 
 and died, deeply regretted, at a comparatively early 
 age. 
 
 Among the men of my own standing there is one 
 name which no lapse of time will ever obscure for 
 his cotemporaries. If the Magdalen graduates who 
 date from the year 1861 to 1864 were asked what 
 personality remains most prominent in their 
 memory, it is pretty certain that all, or nearly all, 
 would say Philip Welby. The charm of his sym- 
 pathy behind a certain reserve of manner was as 
 wonderful as his power of influence was great. For 
 all his quiet bearing or rather, indeed, because of 
 it not even the men whose whole manner of life 
 was at variance with his own could ignore the spell 
 of his character, or be angry at what, by force of 
 contrast, so reflected on their own lower code. The 
 simplicity of mind which was united with the per- 
 fection of good breeding constituted an influence, 
 indeed, such as must be exceptional among any 
 group of men. He did not live many years after 
 going down. Consumption laid its grasp on him, 
 and though he went out to South Africa it was in 
 vain. He reached St. Helena, where his uncle was 
 Bishop, and there he died in 1873, the same year as
 
 144 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 our great visitor, Bishop Wilberforce, suddenly 
 exchanged conversation with his friend on the 
 Surrey Downs, as it was beautifully said by the 
 Archbishop of Armagh, " for the deep swell of 
 the angels' song." Much has befallen his old 
 friends in the years that have intervened, times of 
 light and times of shadow have come and gone, but 
 the rare beauty of a character it was their privilege 
 so intimately to know remains and will continue, 
 honoured and unforgotten. 
 
 It was not till my time at Magdalen was some- 
 what advanced that I became intimate with John 
 Stainer. At one period I saw a great deal of him, 
 and much later on in life I found in him a friend to 
 whose confidence I could entrust matters of an 
 anxious character, and from whom I received unde- 
 viating kindness and willing help. It once fell to 
 my lot on a public occasion to allude to him, and I 
 described him as "the gifted and the good." These 
 terms may be emphatically repeated. 
 
 To any one who knew the Magdalen Choir in 
 the early sixties it will seem the barest justice to 
 say that only a true genius (seconded, indeed, by a 
 great tradition) could have succeeded in producing 
 the results that were the delight of all Oxford. 
 There were at that time four academical and four 
 non-academical clerks. Of the former, one had 
 been elected on the highest personal, but not 
 musical grounds. Of the latter, one had passed
 
 MAGDALEN 145 
 
 completely, and another partially, into what may be 
 called " the pension stage." With these deduc- 
 tions, there was certainly no superabundance of 
 material for the maestro to work upon. It should, 
 however, be remembered that just at this time the 
 choir was reinforced by that famous alto and 
 scholarly musician, W. A. Barrett. 
 
 It is not possible to describe the effect on a youth 
 brought for the first time under the daily spell of 
 Church music rendered as it was in the College 
 Chapel. Nor do I speak only of things that were 
 common to other " choirs and places where they 
 sing." Magdalen men of my own day can never 
 fail to recall the charm, for instance, of the chants 
 for the Psalms that were then in use. 
 
 Stainer had taken his Mus. Bac. at an early age, 
 and resided his terms for the B.A. at St. Edmund^ 
 Hall, where he was brought into association with 
 the Rev. H. P. Liddon, then Vice-Principal, and 
 destined to be united with him in after-life in the 
 wonderful revival of Church activity at the 
 Cathedral of St. Paul. I well remember the inte- 
 rest aroused when he proceeded to the Doctorate, 
 and his " Gideon " was performed as the statutory 
 exercise. One great feature of those days was the 
 Madrigal practice in Hall on Saturday evenings. 
 The early hour of dinner (6 p.m.) left ample scope 
 for such purposes, and there were many who 
 enjoyed the benefit of Stainer's skilful instructions. 
 
 ii
 
 146 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 I append one or two anecdotes thoroughly 
 characteristic of the man. One morning after 
 Chapel, Edward Handley, then Honorary Secretary 
 of the Madrigal Society, Stainer, and I were walk- 
 ing together to our lodgings. The conversation 
 turned on the programme to be drawn up for the 
 season then beginning. It was so like Stainer to 
 answer, " Let us see the Doctor (Corfe) before we 
 do anything. We are all striplings, you know, by 
 him." 
 
 Once upon a time he and Mrs. Stainer (as she 
 then was) were having a holiday in the Alps. 
 They took up their quarters at an hotel on high 
 ground, where on Saturday arrived a clergyman 
 who was to act as Chaplain for the month. Seeing 
 an Englishman in the house, and not having the 
 least idea of his identity, he eagerly asked his 
 assistance in turning out a harmonium which he 
 understood was put away in an outhouse. The 
 help was given at once, and the instrument duly 
 discovered. But then the question arose, who was 
 to play on it at the services on the following day ? 
 With modesty the great musician replied that he 
 thought he could do some little in that direction. 
 This, however, was not to be, for it was quickly 
 seen that the depredations of rats during the winter 
 months had effectually disposed of the bellows. 
 The poor cleric was sadly disconcerted, but pre- 
 sently, brightening up, he asked his companion
 
 MAGDALEN 147 
 
 whether, as he had allowed a small capacity for 
 using the harmonium, he possessed a like ability to 
 lead the hymns unaccompanied ? Again, with im- 
 perturbable good humour, Stainer admitted a 
 limited power of complying with his request. We 
 can all imagine the skill with which this was 
 done. 
 
 The gratified Chaplain complimented him highly 
 on his achievement. " Come, come, my dear sir, 
 you are much too diffident as to your powers." 
 
 And then my old friend thought the time was 
 come to declare himself, which he did in the follow- 
 ing way : " Perhaps I ought to have introduced 
 myself as John Stainer, and to have said that I am 
 the head organ-grinder at St. Paul's ! " 
 
 During many years of his life he was sorely beset 
 by aspiring composers, who sent him the scores of 
 their works for his opinion. At last he threatened 
 to prepare a circular to be issued in reply : " Dear 
 Sir or Madam, I have received the composition you 
 sent me, and much like it." One is reminded of 
 a similar utterance attributed to the late Earl of 
 Beaconsfield, and it would be interesting to see if 
 further polite apologies could be constructed on the 
 same lines. 
 
 One last anecdote of Stainer before I pass on. 
 After writing " Lead, kindly light," he submitted it 
 to a mutual friend from youth onwards, and, in pur- 
 suance of the suggestions he offered, the treatment
 
 148 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 of the last verse was modified. Like all gre,at men, 
 
 John Stainer was unaffectedly humble. 
 
 The late Dean of Winchester W. R. Stephens 
 was a distinguished member of Balliol, and not 
 a Magdalen man, but it comes naturally to me to 
 write of him under the head of my own College. 
 And for this reason : he took his Doctor's degree with 
 me in December, 1901, being like myself a guest 
 of the President's while reading his exercises in the 
 Divinity School. It was, of course, a most natural 
 arrangement considering the very close relationship 
 that exists between Winchester and Magdalen. 
 The Bishop of that See is ex officio our Visitor, 
 and our founder's tomb is in his Cathedral church. 
 Dean Stephens's many friends will bear an unani- 
 mous testimony to the very rare union of gifts that 
 adorned him. No occupation, however absorbing, 
 diminished in any degree that primary sense of his 
 high calling, to which in very truth all else in his 
 life was made subsidiary. He always seemed to 
 me a student of a singularly attractive type. 
 There was nothing in him of a self-assertive or 
 paradoxical character no showiness, no im- 
 patience, no irritating display of superiority. 
 As a historian and as a biographer he had 
 indeed made his mark. As a friend and as a 
 delightful companion he has left innumerable and 
 charming memories. It was a most pleasant house 
 for a guest. The Dean was a brilliant raconteur.
 
 MAGDALEN 149 
 
 His accurate memory, excellent taste, and keen 
 sense of humour, ensured you a pleasant proportion 
 of good anecdotes. The lofty tone that prevailed, 
 the excellence of quality in whatever pursuit he was 
 engaged, the unfailing geniality in it all it was 
 a matching with the exceptional beauty of sur- 
 roundings that can never suffer eclipse while 
 memory abides. 
 
 Previous to his tenure of the Deanery he was 
 a Prebendary of Chichester. The Stall which he 
 occupied had some specific duties attached to it 
 a Readership, I think, in theology. It was for 
 this reason, I imagine, that it escaped what Arch- 
 bishop Benson called "the smooth mowing" that 
 took away, two generations since, the endowments 
 of all save the residentiary posts. There was a 
 small income which arose from some house pro- 
 perty. In order to provide for future repairs 
 Prebendary Stephens insured the life of the Duke 
 of Clarence for a considerable sum. On his early 
 and unlooked-for death this money fell in contrary 
 to all possible expectations. It was just like 
 Stephens not to use it for his own advantage, 
 but to lay it out to a considerable extent with a 
 view to the public good. 
 
 Here is just one of his amusing stories that 
 occurs to me. It was illustrative of the danger, 
 I presume, that attaches to the ignorant use of a 
 vocabulary. Some English people, having left the
 
 ISO OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 railway, had engaged a carriage for a cross-country 
 expedition in France. After going some distance 
 the vehicle began to rock in a very ominous way. 
 It was obvious enough what had happened, and 
 they sought to call the impassive driver's attention 
 to it. If, however, the swaying of the carriage did 
 not have this desired result, the terms in which the 
 situation was described were scarcely likely to do 
 so. " Le printemps est casse ! " 
 
 Apropos of Deans and the Doctor's degree, a 
 predecessor of his at Winchester had a very narrow 
 escape of returning home disappointed. An abso- 
 lutely essential feature of the ceremony is the pre- 
 sentation of Letters of Priest's Orders to the Vice- 
 Chancellor. It was only the evening previous to 
 the Degree day that this was realised by the divine 
 in question after his arrival at Oxford. An imme- 
 diate telegram to the Registrar in his Cathedral 
 city, by singular good fortune, found that official 
 on the spot. He was just in time to get off the 
 necessary document by post, and thus the situation 
 was just, but only just, saved. 
 
 FLoreat Magdalena ! The College has been kind 
 to me in youth as in later days. I close these 
 scanty gleanings from the past by repeating some 
 words spoken one perfect day in June within those 
 venerable walls : 
 
 "With something better than critical approval, 
 with the affection of sons towards a generous and
 
 MAGDALEN 151 
 
 illustrious mother, we gaze once more on the 
 unequalled beauty around us. In years to come 
 may that vision be unfadingly before our sight, 
 a witness to the unseen which it so wonderfully 
 reveals for a pledge of noble lives that have been 
 lived in this place, a pledge to us to-day as the 
 summer sun touches in turn each line of symmetry, 
 each detail of exquisite skill, that at last for us too 
 the day shall dawn and the day-star arise in our 
 hearts."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 > 
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 
 
 SOON after I was settled at Magdalen my uncle 
 came down from London to see how I was getting 
 on. He was an Exeter man, and in his day had 
 rowed in the College boat. Some years had elapsed 
 since he had visited the University, and during the 
 interval the old Chapel of his College had been re- 
 moved, and the present edifice substituted for it. 
 We went together that we might see it. He 
 viewed the new building with admiration, but 
 with inevitably mingled regret for the disappear- 
 ance of all that had once been so familiar. Pre- 
 sently I heard him speaking with a tone of 
 delighted surprise. After all there was something 
 left. In the centre of the new Chapel he had 
 recognised the old eagle, and he added, " I knew 
 him by his claws ! " 
 
 Amongst the most distinguished residents in 
 Oxford during my early days was Goldwin Smith. 
 
 152
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 153 
 
 It was related of him that on one occasion in his 
 undergraduate career he was sent for on some busi- 
 ness by the College Dean. Now this official was 
 a staunch stickler for the etiquette of an already 
 bygone time, and expressed considerable annoyance 
 with his distinguished junior for not having donned 
 a pair of bands. The demand was met by Goldwin 
 Smith cutting out a gigantic substitute from a sheet 
 of white cartridge paper. The story does not go 
 on to relate the sequel as regards the Dean. But 
 it is said to be the last instance of such a demand 
 being made. 
 
 The Master of University was of course Dr. 
 Plumptre the "P.P. 7 feet" of Verdant Green 
 and who, the story goes, used to allude to Queen's 
 as "the place over the way." He was, as the 
 quotation just made indicates, a man of con- 
 siderable stature, exaggerated in appearance by 
 his remarkably slim figure. It was understood 
 that there was a great deal of difficulty in getting 
 him to move forward with the new necessities of 
 the times. On one occasion some of the fellows 
 were discussing what steps could be adopted to 
 induce their chief to take action. And when first 
 one and then another suggestion had been made, 
 Goldwin Smith astonished the rest by remarking, 
 " I should like to stroll over him in cricket shoes." It 
 would be difficult to match the caustic significance 
 of this witty and singular sentence.
 
 154 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Through my father's acquaintance with the 
 Provost of Oriel it was my good fortune, far more 
 appreciated in later life than at the time, to be 
 brought into association with this notable per- 
 sonage. I shall never forget one act of kindness 
 on his part. He invited me to meet Mr. Gladstone 
 and Sir W. Heathcote at his house. Certainly 
 there are not many men of the Provost's position 
 at any time who would go out of their way to 
 remember a youth in so thoughtful a manner 
 as this. 
 
 Another distinguished member of the University 
 with whom I came in contact as a Professor, and 
 who also was one of my father's many acquaint- 
 ances, was Dr. Jacobson, afterwards Bishop of 
 Chester. The stories told of him are many. 
 Perhaps the following are not familiar to men of 
 this present time. In his old tutorial days a man 
 in lecture was pounding, after the manner of youth, 
 through a passage of Sophocles, and rendering the 
 Greek into the baldest of English. Hopelessly 
 floundering over the words wa^xo^ avaaau, he 
 was caught up by Jacobson, who with nothing 
 less than a stroke of genius suggested as a trans- 
 lation, " He is the Warden of All Souls" On 
 another occasion it came to the turn of a man 
 whom Jacobson well knew to be notorious in 
 College for his bad language to translate a passage 
 in which some strong expressions occurred. He
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 155 
 
 was proceeding with his task in a somewhat 
 mincing manner when the lecturer interrupted 
 him sharply by the remark highly appreciated 
 by his listeners " Oh, pray go on, sir, it won't 
 foul your mouth ! " 
 
 Cotemporaries of mine who attended his dis- 
 courses in St. Frideswide's Chapel will remember 
 how at one point in the series there came a for- 
 midable list of books, numerous and bulky, which 
 our kindly instructor recommended for our private 
 study. Now, on one occasion, one of his listeners, 
 who was unluckily in full view, grew exceedingly 
 impatient, and the following amusing peroration 
 of the lecture ensued. After closing the list of 
 volumes Dr. Jacobson continued without any 
 break, " and I trust that the gentleman sitting 
 near me who has looked at his watch every three 
 minutes for the last quarter of an hour, has not 
 found himself inconvenienced by the length to 
 which my remarks have been extended. Mr. 
 Adams, here ? Mr. Barber, here ? Mr. Clark, 
 here?" &c. 
 
 There was never a more scrupulously conscien- 
 tious man than he. Those who have read Dean 
 Burgon's delightful book, " Twelve Good Men," 
 will recall a remarkable instance of this feature 
 of his character. And here is another case in 
 point. I was too late to obtain admittance to the 
 last lecture in his course, having attended another
 
 156 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 lecture at the hour immediately preceding. When 
 I went with the rest to ask for my certificate it was 
 bluntly refused. I pleaded the excuse I have now 
 stated. " I don't see why I am to be made the one 
 to come off short," was the reply, followed presently, 
 however, by a gruff command to sit down and wait 
 till the other certificates were filled in. He then 
 called me up and wrote as follows : " I certify that 
 Mr. James George Tetley, B.A., of Magdalen 
 College, attended all my lectures except the last 
 one, having been accidentally detained." And with 
 this I was fain to be content when I subsequently 
 approached the Bishop of Llandaff. 
 
 One other instance of his characteristic caution 
 before I pass on. In after days, when he was 
 Bishop of Chester, a considerable discussion had 
 taken place in the Cathedral city as to the theo- 
 logical school of a certain preacher who was 
 invited to deliver a sermon. It appeared that 
 both the great parties in the Church were 
 variously credited with his sympathies. The day 
 came and the Bishop was there. After the service 
 was over one of the dignitaries came up to him 
 and said eagerly, " Now, my lord, you have heard 
 this man, and I am sure you will agree with me 
 that he is a High Churchman." " Not in the 
 least," rejoined another. " I appeal to your lord- 
 ship to bear me out in what I have said. His 
 sermon shows him to be what he is a Low
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 157 
 
 Churchman." " Well," replied the cautious old 
 prelate, "you say he is High, and you, sir, say 
 he is Low. Now, for my part, I say that I con- 
 sider him long." A delightful determination of a 
 moot question ! 
 
 But Chester is a far cry from Oxford. My first 
 Commemoration was that of 1862, and it was in 
 many ways a famous one. Lord Palmerston 
 received the D.C.L. degree amidst the enthusiastic 
 cheers of a crowded theatre. But, above all, it was 
 the only time it ever fell to my lot to hear Jenny 
 Lind sing, and I fancy it must have been one of 
 the last occasions on which that matchless voice 
 was heard in public. In another, and far less 
 harmonious sense, this Commemoration was remem- 
 bered through a noisy demonstration against the 
 Proctors. A Pro. named Washbourne West, a 
 well-known Fellow of Lincoln, came in for a full 
 share of unpopularity. Years afterwards, when I 
 was curate of Badminton, I was so unwell at the 
 close of a week just after Easter that the doctor 
 forbade me to attempt any duty. A telegram 
 despatched to Oxford, to the " immortal Spackman," 
 a well-known agent in such matters, brought in 
 reply a promise of assistance. To my great amuse- 
 ment who should arrive but " Washy " West ! He 
 took a very early opportunity of referring to that 
 fateful Commemoration in which he had to sustain 
 so unwelcome a part. He could not help doing
 
 158 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 what was an ungrateful task, but undergraduates 
 are not very equitable judges. This Mr. West 
 had, I believe, more voting qualifications than any 
 man in England, and was once honoured by a 
 special mention from Mr. Bright in a great speech 
 on the franchise. West never, I think, neglected 
 an opportunity of acquiring a small property which 
 carried with it the freeholder's suffrage. And I 
 well remember how he unfolded to me the system 
 on which he acted during an election. He mapped 
 out his different constituencies, and then arranged 
 his train journeys accordingly, so as not to lose even 
 one of his prized opportunities, so far as it was 
 possible to utilise them. He was, in fact, an adept 
 of the first order in this particular line, and must 
 have been highly prized by his own political party. 
 This summer term I made the acquaintance of 
 a London clergyman whose name for many years 
 was often and honourably before the public 
 Septimus Hansard, afterwards rector of Bethnal 
 Green. At that particular time he was taking a 
 short spell of rest, and came to Oxford. My 
 relative, Mrs. Lukin, wrote me a letter of intro- 
 duction to him, in which, in her delightful old- 
 world way, she spoke of him as having "quell'd the 
 St. George's in the-East riots." This possibly was 
 an over-statement, but he was assuredly a manly 
 and pleasant person. He knew exactly (a very 
 rare thing by the way) how to associate with
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 159 
 
 younger men in their rooms, and share their 
 hospitality, without compromising for a moment 
 his own proper position. He was not unskilful 
 with his pencil, and one summer's day he swiftly 
 made a charming little sketch of the Cherwell for 
 me, which I think I still possess among some 
 treasures of past days. 
 
 And talking of the Cherwell reminds me of a 
 grotesque gaucherie of which I was guilty soon 
 after I came into residence. I was punting myself 
 about, and ran with such violence into another 
 punt, as to shoot the unfortunate occupant out of 
 his vessel into the turbid water. As he emerged 
 therefrom, I addressed him (what could have com- 
 pelled me to do so it is difficult to say) with the 
 extraordinary inquiry, " I beg your pardon, sir, I 
 hope you are not wet ? " And he, with a grim 
 humour almost beyond his years, replied, " Oh, 
 dear, no, I assure you, not at all." Who he was 
 I never knew. But it is a singular proof both of 
 the tenacity and the unreliability of Oxford (and 
 other) stories, that quite recently I found the absurd 
 episode was still retailed in Magdalen, but with 
 additions of a totally fictitious kind. 
 
 This same summer, if memory serves me rightly, 
 a notable figure passed away from Oxford life in 
 the person of Ridsdale of Wadham. He bore the 
 unusual Christian names of Septimus Otter Barnes, 
 and his career was more singular than his prefixes.
 
 160 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 What with school and College Exhibitions, and his 
 Wadham Scholarship, he enjoyed an income of 
 some ^250 a year " off his own bat." And this 
 expression is particularly appropriate, as towards 
 the close of his University career he played once at 
 least in the University Eleven. But the notable 
 thing in his outdoor pursuits was this. He was 
 just small enough to steer the crew at Putney, and 
 he did so. There are well-known instances of men 
 who have rowed in the Eight, and played in the 
 Eleven. But I do not remember ever to have 
 heard of another case where the cox of the boat 
 was also a cricket Blue. Ridsdale took the Indian 
 Civil direct from Wadham, and died at a com- 
 paratively early age. 
 
 The following year there was an extraordinary 
 excitement over the Torpids. Exeter was head of 
 the river, and every afternoon the race between the 
 leading boat and Brasenose, which was second, was 
 of the closest possible description. One day the 
 bump was claimed, but, after a hearing on the 
 University barge, was disallowed. So Exeter flew 
 the top flag to the close, and a song from the pen 
 of some enthusiastic partisan ran something in this 
 fashion : 
 
 "That afternoon the bump would come, in B.N.C. 'twas said, 
 And the black and yellow colours gained on the black and 
 red,
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 161 
 
 But stroke straightway he rowed away, as strokes know only how, 
 And seven and six and five and four and three and two and 
 bow ! " 
 
 Truly as ingeniously an inclusive compliment as 
 can well be imagined. 
 
 The volunteer spirit ran very high at this time. 
 In Magdalen we had at least two officers of the 
 University Corps, one of them a noted shot. And 
 of course the pressure on men coming up was pretty 
 strong especially if one happened to reckon six 
 feet in one's height. " No. VI. Company " was the 
 destination of Magdalen men, and it so fell out that 
 most of us had the quality of stature, if nothing 
 else. The Prince of Wales, who had gone down 
 not very long before, was of course the Hon. 
 Colonel of the Corps, and when the Princess made 
 her memorable entry into London, a detachment 
 from the University was given the place of honour 
 at the Marble Arch. I shall certainly never forget 
 that day. We were conveyed to Town at an early 
 hour in third-class carriages of the period i.e., with 
 no other equipment than the actual wooden bench. 
 We were four hours accomplishing the distance 
 between Oxford and London. At last we got to 
 Paddington, and were speedily marched to our 
 appointed place to the strains of the then popular 
 song 
 
 "I'm a young man from the country, 
 But you don't get over me." 
 12
 
 162 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Once arrived there was nothing to do but to wait 
 with such patience as we could muster. No kind 
 of provision had been made for us, and we had no 
 food whatever from breakfast at seven till- late in 
 the afternoon. Our kindly Adjutant, the deservedly 
 popular and much lamented Captain Foxcroft 
 Jones, somehow managed to get us quickly re- 
 moved after the Princess had passed, and bade us 
 secure some dinner as soon as we could manage 
 it. Two of us ran down and made our way by 
 Piccadilly to the old Wellington dining-rooms, a 
 familiar resort for clubless people, which then stood 
 at the top of St. James's Street, occupying the site 
 of the old Crockford's. There we were fortunate 
 enough to find a vacant table, and to obtain a meal 
 before beginning the return journey. It was " to- 
 morrow" before we got back, and when it is 
 remembered that we carried long Enfields, which 
 were more like a duck-gun than any modern arms, 
 it will be understood that we had had about enough 
 of it. 
 
 An intimate friend who has just passed away 
 Edward Handley used to go with me for some 
 time, when I was not reading Honour subjects, to 
 coach with Hubert Cornish, soon afterwards, and 
 for many years, the deservedly beloved head of the 
 now defunct New Inn Hall, familiar to all old 
 Oxford men as " The Tavern." Dr. Cornish lived 
 in the Broad, in a house opposite Balliol. Like
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 163 
 
 many good old town residences, it had a garden at 
 the back. At the end of it was a sort of a large 
 summer house which was fitted up as a study, and 
 there his pupils used to read with him. Cornish 
 was an ideal pass-tutor. He never condescended 
 to cram, and those who really worked at their books 
 found in him not only a very able instructor, but 
 also a very wise and kindly friend. He was a 
 Devonshire man (it goes without saying) and 
 a neighbour at home, so he may have taken some 
 special interest in me, but I always feel that I owe 
 him a life-long debt for what I learned from him. 
 His knowledge of his work was so thorough and 
 so practical, that he was made " Master of the 
 Schools " an altogether unusual number of times. 
 A genial, honest, affectionate man, he belonged to 
 a race of Oxford graduates that has passed away, 
 and the world is the poorer for their loss. 
 
 Once upon a time a man came to him for coach- 
 ing, and, as usual, Cornish told him to do some 
 prose that he might judge of his ability and his 
 needs. It was done. I happened to be in the 
 room, and can never forget the single word vouch- 
 safed as a comment. " Piscosissimus ! " a suffi- 
 ciently intelligent superlative. And it is worth 
 recording that the writer who earned this depre- 
 ciative notice was so helped on by Cornish as to 
 secure his degree, and afterwards did excellent work 
 as a clergyman.
 
 164 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 At that time we took up the Old Testament 
 generally for the degree ; I mean, that we were 
 liable to be asked questions in any part of it. And 
 one day my friend and I were reading with Cornish 
 in the Kings how " the rest fled to Aphek, and 
 there a wall fell upon twenty and seven thousand." 
 He stopped us, and in a few terse sentences safe- 
 guarded both of us from the kind of argument 
 which, he warned us, we were sure to be assailed 
 by when we had left Oxford, and gone out into the 
 world. His explanation of the Hebrew numerals, 
 and the vast differences occasioned by a small 
 error on the part of a copyist, has been to me, 
 again and again, of the largest possible service. 1 
 He had an amusingly blunt way of putting things. 
 One day he said to us, " Never trust a man who 
 
 tells you he has got a conscience. once 
 
 paraded his conscience to me, and, sure enough, it 
 was no long while after that he was discommonsed 
 for irregularities." 
 
 In those days we used to have " Aldrich's 
 Logic," the Latin version, as a text-book in the 
 schools. Perhaps one of the oddest mistakes ever 
 made in an examination had to do with a passage 
 contained in this volume on Induction. A man 
 
 1 I am aware, of course, that this view of the numbers in the 
 Old Testament is disputed in the present day. I speak simply 
 of the advantage it was to us when we learned that we were not 
 tied to the exact figures.
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 165 
 
 who had passed a sufficiently correct examination 
 was asked at the end of his viva voce why he had 
 chosen such a curious illustration of induction as 
 " This, that, and the other nobleman draws his 
 sword, therefore they all do so." He replied that 
 it was the instance given in the Dean's book, and 
 he had therefore faithfully reproduced it. The 
 words in the original are, " Hie, ille, et iste magnes 
 trahit ferrum, ergo omnes." My non-classical readers 
 will kindly understand that magnes is a magnet (not 
 magnate), and its drawing qualities with regard to 
 iron need no further explanation. Let us hope 
 our ingenious but mistaken friend obtained the blue 
 paper, which has long passed out of knowledge ! 
 
 There really is no need to manufacture "how- 
 lers," or rather there would be none if examiners 
 were at liberty to divulge secrets. For instance, it 
 is quite impossible that the line, " Surgit amari 
 aliquid medio de fonte leporum," was ever set in a 
 Pass School, and so the time-honoured translations, 
 " There arises something from the middle fountain 
 to be loved by the hares," given to the examiner. 
 But in a prose paper (not for the schools) I have 
 myself seen, " There were no augurs," rendered into, 
 " Nulla perforacula erant ! " The cox of one of 
 the competing Cambridge boats at Henley told 
 me one day on the river the story of a "howler" 
 that may fairly claim a place with the best of such 
 feats. He had tried to teach Euclid to a particu-
 
 166 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 larly dull pupil. At last the time came to test the 
 lessons by an examination. " What is a plain 
 super-ficies ? " he asked. The reply was, " That in 
 which the interior angles are greater than two right 
 angles ! " 
 
 Another senior member of the University, from 
 whom I received many a kindness, and whose 
 memory in common with many others I hold in 
 grateful regard, was Dr. Corfe, organist of Christ 
 Church and Choragus. It must have been through 
 the Magdalen Madrigal Society that I first came to 
 know him. He always came on Saturday evening 
 to take part in our weekly meeting in Hall. I 
 used to share a score with him, and had thereby 
 the immense advantage of his help. He was a 
 thoroughly sound musician of the old Cathedral 
 school. His father had been organist of Salisbury, 
 his brother was for a great number of years organist 
 of Bristol Cathedral. Used as he was to the old- 
 fashioned ways, he threw his whole soul into the 
 cause of improvement of the services and Church 
 order generally. Among my last recollections of 
 him is the satisfaction he showed at the admirable 
 rendering of the Litany at Christ Church. The 
 first time he saw me after my ordination was unex- 
 pectedly in the street at Oxford. All he said at the 
 moment was, " Go home, boy." He knew well as 
 a veteran in Oxford that it did not do for young 
 clerics to hang about the scenes of their under-
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 167 
 
 graduate days. I cannot remember now how 
 near the end it was that I saw him for the last time, 
 but I recollect one highly characteristic interview in 
 his latest days. He had been showing me some 
 new things in Oxford, and when we parted at the 
 corner of Beaumont Street he said, " Well, now, 
 as the old Oxford guides used to say when they 
 reached the gates of Magdalen Walks, ' This here, 
 gentlemen, is the famous walks three miles (sic) 
 round. Would you like to go ? ' By this time 
 nothing could have been more unwelcome to the 
 tired sightseers than any such expedition. ' Very 
 well, then, gentlemen, here I take leave of you. 
 My fee, as allowed by the University, is 53. (a pre- 
 posterous invention), but you can give me what 
 more you may like.' ' 
 
 Talking of the Magdalen walks, a ludicrous story 
 comes to my memory. It was said that a member 
 of the College more remarkable for his good breed- 
 ing and general popularity than any intellectual 
 power, having been somewhat seriously ill, was 
 ordered by Mr. Symonds to take some walking 
 exercise. He asked if he was to go round the 
 walks, and his adviser having replied that he must 
 not attempt more than half that distance, he 
 dutifully went half way and then returned to the 
 College. 
 
 Dr. Thomson had just ceased to be Provost of 
 Queen's when I came up to reside. There was a
 
 168 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Fellow then not long elected of whom the following 
 amusing story was told. Somewhat over-excited 
 by the appearance of his name in the first class, he 
 climbed on to the roof of the College in the evening, 
 and sat himself down on the great stone ornament 
 that occupies a prominent position, as many of my 
 readers will remember. It was really a most 
 perilous proceeding, and many efforts were made to 
 induce him to descend, but in vain. So at last the 
 Provost was fetched, who attempted highly con- 
 ciliatory measures. " Do pray come down, Mr. 
 
 , we can all feel with you in your great success." 
 
 " No you can't, old chap," was the unexpected 
 rejoinder, " you only got a third" It was per- 
 fectly true. The Provost in his day had only taken 
 that position in the class list. It was another 
 instance (but rarely indeed in so conspicuous a 
 manner) of the fact that the schools do sometimes 
 fail to indicate the real power of a man. 
 
 An invitation on one occasion to dine at New 
 College, and to pass the evening in the Junior 
 Common room, brought under my notice a very 
 curious custom. I set down exactly what happened, 
 and I must leave it to members of the College to put 
 right whatever I may state in unintentional error. 
 It was summer term, and every one was out of 
 doors, except my host and myself. Two places 
 were laid at the table in the room, but my enter- 
 tainer rang the bell and asked the attendant why
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 169 
 
 " the stranger's place " was not provided. The man 
 immediately set out glasses, d'oyley, and all the 
 usual equipage of dessert. And then I was told 
 this story. An American visiting Oxford had 
 received very graceful hospitality from a New 
 College man, and in recognition of it subsequently 
 sent a handsome silver cup, only asking that on the 
 anniversary of his visit a place might always be laid 
 for him. It would be interesting to know if the 
 custom is still continued, or whether it ceased with 
 the life of the kindly stranger. 
 
 During my undergraduate days there were one or 
 two trials for murder at Oxford. There was a great 
 demand for admission to the Assize Court, far in 
 excess of the capacity of the building. By acting 
 as my future father-in-law's clerk (for he went the 
 Oxford circuit), and carrying his bag into Court, I 
 was able to secure an excellent place for one of 
 the very few serious cases I have ever heard. I may 
 mention here that my cousin, Treasurer Hawker, of 
 Exeter Cathedral (well known as the genial ex- 
 positor of Devonshire folklore), obtained admission 
 to the Tichborne trial in the same way, by favour of 
 his old friend Sir J. D. Coleridge, afterwards Lord 
 Chief Justice. My wife's father in his yeomanry 
 days had gone through some rather startling 
 experiences. He was "out" in the Luddite or 
 machine-breaking riots, and when Her Majesty 
 came through the county of Gloucester, as the
 
 1 70 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Princess Victoria, he rode in the escort by the side 
 
 of the royal carriage. 
 
 In the course of the machine-breaking disturb- 
 ances, it became necessary to search certain 
 suspected houses for persons implicated in the 
 rising. He used to say that on one occasion he 
 entered a cottage where there was reason to think a 
 man might be secreted, but no trace of him could be 
 found. In the garden there was a bundle of straw, 
 such as might be commonly placed for thatching, or 
 similar purposes. Into this he ran his sword, but 
 with no result, and he quitted the premises. Long 
 afterwards a man owned to having been concealed 
 in the straw. The cold steel had passed close 
 enough to him to b&felt without inflicting a wound, 
 but he had made no sign. A remarkable instance 
 this of unshaken nerves under exceptionally trying 
 circumstances. 
 
 Two of his bar stories are worth recording. One 
 of them, I fancy, may be something of an old 
 favourite; the other one, probably, will be new to 
 many who may read my account. 
 
 It was on the occasion of a difference of opinion 
 between Judge and Counsel, that the latter, by an 
 almost inconceivable lapsus lingua, replied irritably, 
 " Very well, my lord, then I suppose we must enter 
 a nolle prosequi" "As it is the last day of term," 
 was the quiet reply, " I think we had better not 
 make anything unnecessarily long."
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 171 
 
 Albert Smith dined with the Bar once when on 
 circuit. After dinner he amused his hosts by com- 
 posing impromptu rhymes on each one in turn. 
 Every one had cheerfully undergone the process, 
 except a solitary individual, whom I will call Mr. 
 Syllables. This gentleman was very well known 
 for his partiality for dress, and also credited, rightly 
 or wrongly, with paying court to certain great 
 people. He could not decline the lot of his com- 
 panions, and Smith immediately dashed off the 
 following : 
 
 "Take a cab-horse to Charing Cross, 
 See Mr. Syllables get on his horse 
 With rings on his fingers and studs in his shirt, 
 If my lord does not bow, Mr. S. will be hurt." 
 
 Amongst Torquay recollections, by the way, it 
 was a wonderful treat when Albert Smith, in touring 
 the provinces, brought his well-known Mont Blanc 
 entertainment to the western town, and my sister 
 and I went as delighted children to see and hear it 
 in the Assembly Rooms of the old Royal Hotel, 
 now possibly no longer in existence. 
 
 Another man on the Oxford Circuit was Robert 
 Sawyer, afterwards Recorder of Maidenhead, in- 
 evitably known as " Bob." It was in his later life 
 that I became somewhat closely associated with him 
 on the Executive of the Church of England 
 Temperance Society. I suppose a more inde-
 
 172 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 fatigable worker never lived than he. No distance 
 was too great, no trouble too much for him in the 
 cause to which he gave up his life. His influence 
 among railway men was of a wonderful character, 
 and he laboured on till literally he could do no 
 more. The last time I saw him was in the Board- 
 room over the archway into Dean's yard. I was 
 struck by the change which was only too evident, 
 and I went home and told my wife how apprehen- 
 sive I was of some approaching collapse. It came 
 very soon indeed, but at that final interview (as it 
 proved to be) he was earnestly planning more work 
 to be undertaken. At this time, it must be 
 remembered, he was rapidly approaching four 
 score years. 
 
 It was fifteen years after the sixties had ceased to 
 be that a scene occurred in Oxford which I must 
 take occasion to set down here while I am writing 
 about the University. There was a very large 
 meeting of Convocation, in which, to the great 
 and lasting sorrow of many a graduate, the Vivi- 
 section vote was carried. Two speeches made in 
 opposition to such a use of University money will 
 never be forgotten the sturdy protest by John 
 Mackarness, Bishop of Oxford, and the exquisite 
 pathos of Henry Parry Liddon. On the same side 
 followed Freeman, the historian. He ought to 
 have been a most effective helper, but nemo 
 mortalium, not even the most learned, omnibus horis
 
 OXFORD IN THE SIXTIES 173 
 
 sapit. He adopted a line of argument which, if it 
 does not instantly tell, should forthwith be re- 
 linquished the red^tct^o ad absurdum. His line was 
 that, if grants were made to one Professor for his 
 supposed needs, they should be extended to other 
 chairs, and he suggested that the means should be 
 provided him for giving an illustrative show 
 of gladiators. Unwarned by the failure of his 
 audience to follow him, he went on to his peroration, 
 and by a singularly infelicitous transfer of words, 
 alluded, amidst shouts of irrepressible laughter, to 
 " the taking of Titus by Jerusalem ! " 
 
 Amongst the many friends of Oxford days, and 
 as one who through my after life to the time of his 
 death showed me unfailing kindness, I should be 
 indeed ungrateful if I did not mention William 
 Bright, Fellow of University, and widely known for 
 many subsequent years as Canon Bright, the Regius 
 Professor of Ecclesiastical History. He must have 
 looked older than his years in the sixties, for he was 
 then comparatively a young man, yet his appearance 
 was that of maturer age. Perhaps like a certain 
 character in fiction he looked " old when he was 
 young, and so got over it at once." It is an oft- 
 told tale how generous he was of time and trouble 
 to all who sought his advice. Assuredly the present 
 writer has reason to acknowledge a great debt 
 indeed. His love of animals was one among many 
 winning features in his character. The practice of
 
 174 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 vivisection was to him peculiarly abhorrent. I shall 
 never forget standing close by him in the Sheldonian 
 on that memorable occasion when the Laboratory 
 vote was submitted to Convocation. His feelings 
 were intensely aroused, and all old friends who may 
 chance to read this page will appreciate the strong 
 emphasis with which he uttered as his comment on 
 a speaker who had described some well-known 
 experimentalist as shedding tears, the single word 
 " Crocodile's."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 % 
 
 LANHYDROCK 
 
 ABOUT three miles from Bodmin, within a natural 
 basin formed by timbered rising ground on three 
 sides, stands what remains of the beautiful old 
 Jacobean home of the Robartes family. The 
 principal approach is on the fourth, or open, side, 
 along an avenue which has its own history having 
 been planted by order of the absent owner detained 
 in durance in the Civil Wars and conducts the 
 traveller to the fine old gate-house, which has 
 escaped the fate of large portions of the original 
 mansion. The monument of the founder of the 
 family honours has been preserved in excellent 
 condition within Truro Cathedral, and certainly 
 affords a most interesting study in heredity. A 
 somewhat similar instance was much appreciated 
 by the late Mr. Gambier Parry on first seeing an 
 eighteenth-century family picture belonging to 
 myself, and describing it as being the portrait of 
 
 175
 
 176 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 my own child. The advance of the Robartes family 
 in the peerage placed a grandson of this ancestor 
 in the position of Earl of Radnor and Viscount 
 Bodmin. It is only a few years ago that a pedigree 
 of great extent and considerable value was dis- 
 covered in some out-buildings at Lanhydrock. 
 Most happily it was not injured beyond repair, and 
 in its restored condition is a treasure indeed for a 
 genealogist or heraldic expert. Such "finds" are, 
 of course, becoming exceedingly rare. The zeal of 
 collectors has pretty fairly ransacked the various 
 country-sides, but still every now and then some- 
 thing of real value is discovered. A fine seven- 
 teenth-century chest, with a puzzle lock, was lighted 
 on only a few years ago by the Vicar of Dymock in 
 Gloucestershire, who also found some ancient 
 Church music employed as the binding of a parish 
 book. These occur to me at the moment, and 
 doubtless my readers can largely supplement them. 
 But all ordinary cases are left far out of the 
 reckoning by the good fortune of another friend 
 many years since. He had bought in an old 
 curiosity shop, I think at Florence, a panel on 
 which there was evidence of work, but nothing 
 decipherable. There was however quite enough 
 about it to commend the purchase to such a highly- 
 trained observer as he was. So he entrusted it to 
 a friend, who occupied an eminent position in the 
 artistic world, and under his directions it was care-
 
 LANHYDROCK 177 
 
 fully cleaned. The story is too long and far too 
 interesting for introduction merely by the way. 
 The upshot of it is that a very strong probability 
 was established in favour of that panel containing 
 an (unfinished) lost work of a very famous master. 
 
 The Radnor peerage of the Robartes family came 
 to an end in the early days of George III. by the 
 death of the fourth earl without male issue. The 
 estates ultimately devolved on Mary, the daughter 
 of George Hunt, of Mollington Hall, in the county 
 of Cheshire, who thus became an heiress of excep- 
 tional importance. She married the Hon. Charles 
 Bagenal Agar, and a son was born who, as repre- 
 senting the Robartes family, in the female line, 
 assumed their patronymic and armorial bearings. 
 Mr. Agar died in 1811, and for very nearly half 
 a century his widow survived him. She was a lady 
 of remarkable strength of character, and set herself 
 with unflinching resolution, at the cost of a secluded 
 life, to the task of clearing the property from its 
 heavy encumbrances. And her prolonged efforts 
 were so entirely successful, that at her death the 
 work had been brought to its conclusion. 
 
 Her son in due time became member for East 
 Cornwall, and on his retirement from the House of 
 Commons after twenty-one years' service, Mr. 
 Gladstone conveyed to him the royal offer of a 
 peerage (a distinction wholly and always unsought 
 by him) as a recognition of a singularly high-toned 
 
 13
 
 1 78 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 and blameless life. The wording of the letter was 
 noteworthy, and something much more than con- 
 ventional. So once again, in 1869, there was a 
 Lord Robartes of Lanhydrock, as there had been 
 when James I. was king. The title now, however, 
 is merged in the superior rank of Viscount Clifden, 
 for it has so come about in the vicissitudes of family 
 history that the line which began afresh from the 
 heiress of the last Robartes has inherited the titles 
 of her husband's race, and the peerages of both are 
 united in one man. It is the larger part of a 
 century and a half since the old earldom became 
 extinct, but in places where change is held at bay 
 by the force of old habit, there is a lingering of the 
 past which for a while would seem almost to defy 
 time. Some of us can cite such cases, likely enough, 
 from our own knowledge. And so in those quiet 
 Cornish pastures till quite lately, at any rate, the 
 old mark for the sheep continued to be used, a last 
 token of a style and title that had long ceased 
 to be. 
 
 When in my youth I first came to Lanhydrock, 
 all this later history had not even begun. The 
 house was very different indeed from that which 
 it is to-day. It was the disastrous fire in 1881 
 that swept away the greater portion of the old 
 building, leaving only (but happily) the very fine 
 gallery on the northern side. All its contents were 
 untouched, and thus a collection of seventeenth-
 
 LANHYDROCK 179 
 
 century books of considerable value survives. 
 These volumes have, of late years, been carefully 
 catalogued and restored. I shall always associate 
 them with one to whom they were a source of great 
 interest, the well-known churchman, scholar, and 
 collector, Mr. F. H. Dickinson, of King Weston, 
 father of the present Viscountess Clifden. 
 
 There was all the lingering charm of an old- 
 world tone over everything at Lanhydrock when 
 I was first an inmate of the house. Something 
 of an indescribable fascination hangs round that 
 wonderful western-land, but with forty years of 
 railways, modernisms of course have made their 
 mark. 
 
 How remote Cornwall was even in the very best 
 coaching days may be gathered from a remark once 
 made to me by the late Colonel Gilbert, of the 
 Priory, Bodmin. When he was a cadet at 
 Woolwich, his journey from home to the latter 
 place occupied two nights and a portion of a second 
 day. And this, it must be remembered, when the 
 Devonport mail was at the zenith of its marvellous 
 speed. He also added that the only breakfast pro- 
 vided for a cadet in those days consisted of some 
 bread (I think, not even butter) and milk. 
 
 It would be a grateful task to reproduce in words 
 some outlines of the tranquil and beautiful life that 
 was lived by the late Lord and Lady Robartes, to 
 trace them afresh in the memories of the many still
 
 180 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 living who knew it as I did, to convey some little 
 impression, if it might be, to an altogether later 
 generation of what was once so familiar. Lord 
 Robartes was of all men I have ever known eminent 
 for a tender respect, a sensitive regard for God's 
 creatures. In early life he had been a thorough 
 sportsman, but he had laid aside these pursuits 
 when I came to know him. Only in one way he 
 maintained the habits of youth. He was a fearless 
 and reliable whip. In his days you always found 
 at Lanhydrock horses of the old coaching type 
 well-knit, strong, and swift. He constantly drove a 
 pair of these, and the pace at which he took his 
 guests, in complete safety, many of us will never 
 forget. 
 
 Lady Robartes bore a name which just now is on 
 all our lips. She was a Pole-Carew of Antony, and 
 an aunt of the brilliant general who has passed 
 through such stirring episodes in the South African 
 campaign. I think if I desired to select an example 
 of a true English gentlewoman it is to Lady 
 Robartes I should go back for my subject. She 
 possessed at once a dignity on which no one could 
 venture to presume, and a genuine simplicity which 
 was a constant contradiction to pretentiousness. 
 She and her husband moved in a sphere of spiri- 
 tuality their religion was their life, a religion 
 unostentatious and consistent. 
 
 It was a rare influence to come into the making
 
 LANHYDROCK 181 
 
 of young peoples' lives, with whose waywardness 
 and tiresomeness they were singularly patient. 
 There was all the knowledge of the world, all 
 the grace of good breeding, and, along with this, 
 the unseen verities were the greater facts of every- 
 day life in that picturesque ancestral home. 
 
 In the church of St. Endellion, in the Deanery of 
 Bodmin, there survive three endowed Prebendal 
 stalls, styled King's, Trehaverock, and Morneys. 
 I do not know how it came to pass that these pre- 
 ferments escaped the general transfer of funds that 
 took place some sixty years since. l But so it is, 
 and the Prebend of Morneys is in the gift of the 
 owner of Lanhydrock. I have had occasion to 
 remark on the accuracy shown by the late Mrs. 
 Emma Marshall in her works of fiction. And here 
 is a case very much in point. A story of hers the 
 title has escaped my memory contained a state- 
 ment to the effect that a clergyman, one of the 
 characters, in virtue of a living to which he had 
 been recently presented, had become the holder 
 of titular rank in the Cathedral church. There 
 is not, as far as I am aware, an exactly identical 
 position to be found at present, but the Vicar of 
 Lanhydrock for the time being has certainly during 
 the last half-century and more held also the stall of 
 Morneys. The prebend of Carswell, attached to 
 
 1 Because, I presume, they were in private patronage.
 
 182 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 the Vicarage of Broad Clyst, is yet more clearly 
 parallel. This is a dignity belonging to the old 
 Castle Chapel of Exeter, and the holder is inducted 
 within that venerable building. It was very pro- 
 bably a knowledge of this latter usage that sug- 
 gested the idea to the authoress. When I first in 
 early life became acquainted with Lanhydrock, my 
 older friend there was the then Vicar and Prebendary. 
 He belonged to the well-known Cornish family of 
 Grylls, and had married into one of the oldest and 
 most interesting lines that, namely, of Borlase, 
 descended from Taillefer of Borlase, who is said 
 to have rent a horseshoe in twain before William of 
 Normandy in the camp at Hastings. The arms of 
 the family are ermine on a bend sable, two hands 
 and arms issuing out of clouds at the elbows, rending 
 a horseshoe or. 
 
 One of this family was closely connected with the 
 Jacobite Club at Oxford in the eighteenth century. 
 Indeed, such was the position held by him that the 
 president of the Society was termed the High 
 Borlase. This fact came to my knowledge under 
 very singular circumstances. A long while ago, a 
 brother-in-law of my own was going to a fancy 
 ball as Sir Walter Raleigh. His dress came 
 from London, and was pronounced to be admirable, 
 with, however, a single exception. It was pointed 
 out to him that he had no order fastened round his 
 neck. So he sallied out to a jeweller's shop in the
 
 LANHYDROCK 183 
 
 town where he was staying, and asked if he had 
 anything that would serve the purpose. Strange 
 to say, the tradesman produced this Jacobite token. 
 On it was inscribed " High Borlase, Arbiter 
 bibendi." My brother-in-law brought it with the 
 rest of his equipment to my house. I immediately 
 recognised the family name, but the rest of the 
 inscription completely baffled me. Some years 
 afterwards, however, meeting one of the name, I 
 told him of my strange discovery. He replied that 
 for a long time he had been endeavouring to recover 
 the missing jewel, and had offered a considerable 
 sum for it. He then gave me the explanation 
 which I have here recorded. 
 
 Prebendary Grylls, it ought to be said, was a 
 man of gifts that were adequate to a far more 
 extended sphere than that which he actually 
 occupied. 
 
 The church at Lanhydrock, now admirably 
 restored, in which his ministry was exercised, 
 was in the interior arrangements an instance of 
 what country churches had come very frequently 
 to be. There was no vestry, and as an academical 
 gown was worn by the preacher, the officiant had 
 no alternative but to remove the surplice at the close 
 of the Prayers, and invest himself with the other 
 apparel, in the reading-pew. Would that some of 
 our impatient spirits would bestow but a little 
 thought on the almost incredible improvements
 
 1 84 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 that a single generation has brought in its 
 
 course ! 
 
 Cricket was a game late to take root in Devon 
 and Cornwall, although the Teignbridge Club can 
 show a very respectable antiquity. In Cornwall 
 the lovers of this grandest of all English games owe 
 a large debt of recognition to Lanhydrock. In 
 days when really good wickets were rareties in the 
 West, there was always a first-rate pitch available 
 on the private ground of Mr. Agar-Robartes, as he 
 then was. A match day is one of the bright spots 
 in the memory of many. The good wicket, the fine 
 situation, the friendly feeling, the ample hospitality 
 on the field, all together made up a thorough and a 
 wholesome holiday. Then, again, the regular em- 
 ployment of a professional gave an unusual chance 
 to a promising " colt," who could not otherwise have 
 possibly enjoyed such an advantage. 
 
 Many good stories were told of cricket as it was 
 played in the West when the writer was a boy. 
 Thus once, near Torquay, the umpire, being sud- 
 denly inquired of, made the following perfectly 
 honest but probably unique reply : " What do you 
 ask me for ? A gentleman like you ought to know 
 a lot more about it than what I do ! " And I can 
 recall later on a certain match, a good deal further 
 down, where the number of persons adjudged to be 
 out l.b.w. was simply phenomenal. Towards the 
 end of the fifties the All England eleven played a
 
 LANHYDROCK r8$ 
 
 match with a Cornish twenty-two, in which they 
 encountered a curious reverse in their first innings. 
 A well-known cricketing cleric, Hon. J. T. Boscawen, 
 disposed of the whole team of visitors for an extra- 
 ordinarily small number of runs. His style of 
 bowling was peculiar. It was underhand, and its 
 varieties of pitch and pace were very many. On 
 an indifferent ground, and with batsmen to whom 
 it was a novelty, it was apt to prove very fatal 
 indeed. 
 
 On the formation of a village club in East Devon, 
 an old woman, when asked where her son was, 
 replied that he had gone to play at weasel 7 Her 
 interlocutor, somewhat astonished at the answer, 
 suggested that perhaps it was cricket. " Well, 
 perhaps it was ; she know'd anyway 'twas some 
 animal." 
 
 When Mr. Gladstone made his famous tour in the 
 West in 1889, he was a guest at Lanhydrock. It 
 was my privilege to be one of the house party, 
 which comprised, besides our host and hostess, 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone, Mr. Henry Gladstone, 
 Sir William and Lady Trelawny, the Right Hon. 
 Arnold Morley, Mr. Cyril Flower (now Lord 
 Battersea), and Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell, of Dunster 
 Castle. It was most wonderful how, in the very 
 heat and rush of a campaign, from the moment he 
 set foot on the threshold of the house, the great 
 statesman never alluded to matters political. His
 
 1 86 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 stay was on personal, and not public grounds. It 
 was an incident not to be forgotten, when Punch 
 arrived with its cartoon, " His Little Holiday," 
 representing the ex-Prime Minister, travelling due 
 West, with a cloud of papers and boxes, to see the 
 amusement with which it was brought by Mrs. 
 Gladstone to the man himself, and his appreciation 
 of the humour of the picture. 
 
 After dinner, the conversation turning on tenure, 
 he told us the following anecdote : " A Scotch pro- 
 prietor determined to allow no more feus on his 
 estate, and instructed his agent accordingly. So 
 when a Highland farmer arrived one day and asked 
 for this particular manner of holding, he was cour- 
 teously refused. The agent, however, tried to ease 
 the applicant's disappointment by adding that the 
 laird would give him instead a lease of 999 years. 
 The shrewd old man pondered a while, but presently, 
 shaking his head in dissent, made his reply, ' Time 
 soon runs awa.' " And so it does, as those who 
 happen to be living at some particular turning- 
 point can see. For I happened to tell this story 
 to the President of Magdalen soon after, and he 
 mentioned the very interesting fact that a lease 
 granted four centuries ago by one of the Colleges 
 in Oxford had recently fallen in. Time had 
 run awa'. 
 
 There was a great eagerness to catch a glimpse 
 of the famous statesman. He was, however, not to
 
 LANHYDROCK 187 
 
 be seen during the afternoon of his arrival. He had 
 spoken no less than three times at Truro, St. 
 Austell, and Bodmin. At the first-named place he 
 so timed his address as to reserve some few minutes 
 for a hasty glance at the Cathedral. I remember 
 a stranger coming up to me in the grounds at 
 Lanhydrock and asking anxiously as to a possible 
 sight of Mr. Gladstone, mentioning the consider- 
 able distance that had been travelled in order to 
 obtain it. 
 
 It was very soon after this party that circum- 
 stances brought me, for the first time, into relation 
 with the late Earl of Carnarvon. That high- 
 minded, refined, scholarly statesman had long been 
 a hero with me, and a visit to Highclere under his 
 auspices was an episode memorable in life. My 
 room was in the older part of the Castle, and a 
 tablet on the door stated it to have been assigned to 
 Caroline of Anspach, the Queen of George II. I 
 had the pleasure of sending Lord Carnarvon an 
 account of the sharp encounter at Barber's Bridge, 
 in Gloucestershire, during the Civil Wars, at the 
 time when Lord Herbert's Welshmen bore them- 
 selves well. It is said that the name is a 
 corruption of Barbarous, on account of the terrible 
 slaughter. It was but a little over a year later that 
 I re-visited the beautiful Berkshire seat for his 
 funeral. There was something very wonderful in 
 the sight of the special train arriving at the country
 
 188 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 station, and the distinguished occupants who 
 thronged the little quiet platform. On that day 
 I had my last sight of one from whom I had 
 received much kindness in life, Canon Liddon. 
 We left Highclere by the same train, and walked 
 for some time together at Didcot. He was then 
 extremely ill. I expressed my solicitude as to his 
 suffering, and received the reply, so characteristic 
 in its exactness of language, even at a time of such 
 distress, " Thank you, the pain is very severe, almost 
 acute" This was in June, and he died at Weston- 
 super-Mare in September. 
 
 My first recollection of Canon Liddon is in 1861, 
 when he was Vice- Principal of St. Edmund's Hall. 
 It was in his rooms there that the Sunday evening 
 gatherings began which afterwards assumed such 
 large proportions, and became so notable a feature 
 in the religious life of the University. He was 
 during part of that year a Pro-proctor, and stories 
 were current as to the great reluctance he displayed 
 in fining undergraduates for being without cap and 
 gown. One was to the effect that he crossed the 
 street rather than be compelled to take action ; 
 another, that he made a quasi-apology to a delin- 
 quent for mulcting him in five shillings. There was 
 just this element of truth in them, that his gentle 
 spirit displayed a great measure of forbearance. 
 No one, however, who really knew Dr. Liddon 
 could ever imagine that he had a trace of weakness
 
 LANHYDROCK 189 
 
 of character. His own illuminative sermon on 
 John Keble shows clearly his mind as to the true 
 relations of gentleness and strength. 
 
 I remember in later days being told by one of the 
 family group at Salisbury how, in his sojourns at 
 the Palace, he would become so absorbed in the 
 construction of his sermons that, forgetful of all 
 save the serious matter in hand, he would recite 
 whole passages as they shaped themselves in his 
 brain before committing them to writing. There 
 was a charming reminiscence given me by a friend 
 of his earlier ministry as chaplain, that by his 
 winning words and ways he so influenced a young 
 footman in the Bishop's household as to induce him 
 to give up a racing newspaper in favour of a very 
 different class of periodical. 
 
 Not long before the close of his life he made an 
 expedition to a village church in the Diocese of 
 Oxford, where he had learned there were archi- 
 tectural features of very considerable interest. He 
 and his friends had alighted from their carriage, 
 and were about to enter the church, when they were 
 seen, but not recognised, by the Vicar, who imme- 
 diately placed his services at their disposal. He 
 was a man to thoroughly appreciate the building 
 entrusted to his care, and soon found that he was 
 explaining various points of interest to no ordinary 
 visitors. And when all was over, and the travellers 
 were about to return, he expressed the great and
 
 190 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 rare pleasure he had experienced, and asked if he 
 might know the names of his listeners. Dr. Liddon 
 silently gave him his card. The Vicar involuntarily 
 exclaimed, " What, Canon Liddon, the great 
 preacher ? " And the answer was so exactly what 
 hundreds of old Oxford men would identify as one 
 of his characteristic speeches, " Well, I do preach 
 sometimes." 
 
 I remember seeing a poor fellow who used to pick 
 up odd jobs as a messenger stand in the aisle of St. 
 Mary's throughout Dr. Liddon's great sermon on 
 " Humility and Action," published in the first 
 volume of University Sermons. The man was 
 then recovering from a broken leg. It was a 
 notable testimony to the spell of the preacher's 
 voice and message. In 1870 I met Pere Hyacinthe 
 with Liddon at St. Barnabas Parsonage. He 
 looked with admiration at one of the sacred 
 vessels, saying softly, " Un beau calice." This 
 was in the first days after the Vatican Council. 
 
 In the autumn of the year 1889 a heavy loss 
 befell me and mine in the death of Lord Torrington. 
 Although I had personally been brought but very 
 little into contact with him, his kindness to me was 
 of the greatest. He died from typhoid fever, 
 during a visit in Brittany, while actively occupied 
 with many schemes. He was a man of high ideal, 
 and bore himself with a self-command and dignity, 
 of which the following anecdote is an illustration :
 
 LANHYDROCK \g\ 
 
 One Sunday, during. his period of service in the 
 Army, there was no Chaplain to officiate. It fell to 
 the lot of Captain Byng to read prayers. As he 
 was about to do so he noticed some merriment on 
 the part of his brother officers, and overheard a 
 remark as to " Parson Byng." He stopped, and 
 saying very quietly, " Gentlemen, when you have 
 recovered yourselves, I will go on with the 
 Service," continued without any further inter- 
 ruption. 
 
 Here is a very odd incident (for which I am 
 indebted to my wife's cousin, whom I have before 
 mentioned), in which the seventh Viscount Tor- 
 rington was concerned. Some foreign royalties 
 were visiting this country, and under his courteous 
 and accomplished guidance were conducted to the 
 House of Lords to hear a debate. Their host having 
 noticed that Lord Brougham was in his place, went 
 to him, and telling him who composed the party 
 which he had brought down, asked him if he would 
 take an opportunity of speaking that evening, in 
 order that the distinguished visitors might hear so 
 eminent a master of English oratory. In reply 
 to his request, Lord Torrington, I was told, 
 " caught it " from his noble friend, who absolutely 
 declined, and with considerable emphasis, to do 
 anything of the sort. There was nothing more 
 to be done, and the illustrious guests must resign 
 themselves to a disappointment. But, strange to
 
 192 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 say, after a while the great ex-Chancellor rose, and 
 
 spoke in his most brilliant style. 
 
 The subject of remarkable likenesses has already 
 found a place in these recollections. But certainly 
 the most astonishing instance is one which was 
 given me by an old and valued friend, the late 
 Judge Sumner. During his Balliol days he pos- 
 sessed a "double" in an undergraduate of the same 
 College, a constant companion of his own. Their 
 similarity was so marked that, as the Judge used to 
 say, his friend once mistook himself for his friend ! 
 This sounds, I am aware, preposterous. But it was 
 the literal fact, and happened in this way. There 
 used to be in our young days a most delightful 
 holiday resort in Regent's Park, the Coliseum. In 
 front of the great staircase there was a large sheet 
 of mirror glass, so placed that as one went up the 
 stairs it appeared as though another person were 
 walking towards you. Mr. Sumner's friend, quite 
 unaware of this, was wending his way up to the 
 Panorama, when he caught sight of the figure 
 seemingly walking towards him. He turned to the 
 man who was with him, and exclaimed, " Look ! 
 there's old Sumner."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE 
 
 AN early pioneer alas ! heavily at his own cost I 
 fear in the matter of middle-class education, was 
 Charles Woodcock, Prebendary of Salisbury, and 
 Vicar of Chardstock, close on the borders of Dorset 
 and Devon. A right vigorous man, of noble im- 
 pulses, and a genial heart, he was seconded in all 
 his enterprises by his wife, a daughter of the well- 
 known Dr. Sutherland, a lady of much strength and 
 sweetness of character. St. Andrew's College is 
 now, sad to say, a thing of the past. But the 
 memory of those who toiled and suffered has some- 
 thing more than the average claim on those who 
 come after. And now that the principle involved 
 begins to be more adequately acknowledged, and 
 Churchmen all over England owe a heavy debt to 
 the untiring energy of distinguished workers in this 
 direction, it is well to recall the labours of years 
 gone by, lest in a ruin of to-day the promise of 
 
 14 '
 
 194 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 yesterday be ungratefully forgotten. Chardstock 
 afforded me a place for reading, and also for some 
 other work between Oxford and ordination. Cer- 
 tainly those who took part in the manifold activities 
 of that parish and its various institutions will never 
 probably see the like again. All was stir and life 
 in what before Canon Woodcock began his work 
 had been only a small village in the hills. Clergy 
 from the surrounding district came to share in the 
 services of the re-builded church services made 
 glorious by the notable ability of Precentor and 
 Organist, two Oxford men, of whom one now 
 occupies a distinguished place among Church 
 musicians, and the other, whose compositions claim 
 more than a passing notice (he was the first to set 
 the " Golden Legend ") after a life of very varied 
 work carried on under a disadvantage of weak 
 health, is now passing through a period of well- 
 occupied repose. Visitors from various quarters, 
 parents of boys, one and another, were continually 
 coming and going. There was not much room for 
 dilatoriness amidst it all. 
 
 The Vicar and Warden was often thoroughly 
 unconventional, and was wont to speak his mind in 
 church and out of it with entire candour. In fact, 
 he once said to me, reflectively, that he wondered 
 he had not had his head broken many a time. But 
 then I am bound to say there are very few people 
 who would have cared to try, for our friend was of
 
 CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE 195 
 
 a remarkably fine physique, and absolutely fearless 
 into the bargain. He had the very strongest objec- 
 tion to anything like irreverence in church, or to an 
 ill-timed somnolence. And on one occasion he was 
 met by an unexpected rejoinder. For having ad- 
 dressed a rustic in the gallery, to the effect that he 
 was asleep, the person in question replied, it is said, 
 in all good faith, " No, I bean't sur, but I be bad." 
 On another occasion, finding himself surrounded by 
 a drowsy and inattentive congregation, he produced 
 his Greek Testament from his pocket, and com- 
 menced reading it aloud. This gallant veteran 
 continued working at the rate of four services a 
 Sunday till he had come to fourscore years. And 
 when, but a short while since, he passed away, the 
 Diocese and a wide circle of friends were the poorer 
 for his loss. 
 
 I only mention the fact of my having been 
 ordained at Llandaff in order that I may place 
 on record something as to those with whom my 
 first curacy brought me into contact. My first 
 Vicar, my cousin Turberville Williams, has recently 
 passed to the unseen world. The time of my ordi- 
 nation was marked by one of the most prodigious 
 snowfalls of my life's experience, and when I left 
 Llandaff for Caldicot in Monmouthshire, I could 
 only do so by a somewhat singular equipage, namely, 
 a four-wheeler drawn by two horses tandem, and 
 with an assistant on the box. I remember it thu
 
 196 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 cost me half a sovereign to get to the station at 
 
 Cardiff. 
 
 It was in the days, of course, of Ollivant as 
 Bishop. A rugged, honest, strong man, and one 
 of the most conscientious persons it has ever be- 
 fallen me to know well. He was consecrated in 
 1849, and was, I think, the first Bishop to reside 
 at Llandaff, at any rate, after a very long period. 
 Copleston, his predecessor, one of the famous group 
 associated with the Oriel Common Room, lived at 
 the very edge of his diocese, and a pew in Chep- 
 stow Church, since then effectively restored, bore a 
 mitre on the door. He was also Dean of St. Paul's. 
 But with my kind old friend the newer methods 
 began. It would be gratuitous here to repeat the 
 well-worn story of his first tentative essays in 
 Welsh. The point is that he did acquire the 
 language, and laboured indefatigably amidst what, 
 half a century ago, must still have been, allowing 
 for what had been begun, the most unpromising 
 circumstances. 
 
 The Dean (Williams) was well known to my 
 father, and all was most pleasantly arranged for me 
 on my coming to the old Cathedral village. At his 
 house there was always a welcome. And indeed he 
 was a man to know. For the making of Llandaff 
 Cathedral as we are familiar with it to-day, was in 
 the completion of it eminently his work. As Arch- 
 deacon he had wrought strenuously with the two
 
 CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE 197 
 
 previous Deans, his personal friends, for the raising 
 again from its ruin, and worse than ruin, the ancient 
 House of God, and it was given to him to see the 
 work completed. 
 
 Dean Williams was, like Bishop Copleston, an 
 Oriel man. He was in the First Class, and nar- 
 rowly missed being a member of the historic 
 Common Room. But to have been proxime to 
 John Henry Newman was assuredly a greater 
 triumph in defeat than the majority of victories. 
 He had been a pupil of the great Dr. Butler at 
 Shrewsbury School, and that early training laid the 
 foundation of a life's work, able, vigorous, and un- 
 broken. It is not too much to say that the early 
 stages in the wonderful revival of Church work in 
 the Diocese of Llandaff, which has won so large a 
 measure of respect and admiration, owed their suc- 
 cess in a very large degree to his wisdom and 
 energy. 
 
 Like other really strong men, he had a special 
 love for children, and the love which children bore 
 to him is a characteristic which those who knew 
 him best delight in recollecting. 
 
 The history of Llandaff up till about 1840 had 
 been for generations one of "sad decay." The 
 "Quire Music" had ceased at the end of the 
 seventeenth century the Canons' houses had 
 become pigstyes. An effort was made to arrest 
 the ruin of the Cathedral about the middle of the
 
 198 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 eighteenth century, but the several thousand pounds 
 raised for the purpose were wasted in setting up an 
 Italian temple within the walls. It deserves to be 
 always remembered that the first step in the direc- 
 tion of any real restoration was taken by the Pre- 
 centor, just as the earliest effort at the famous 
 Church of St. John, Frome Selwood, was made 
 by a curate. Then Knight Bruce, in the revived 
 office of Dean, took the matter vigorously in hand. 
 Conybeare, who succeeded him, carried the work so 
 far forward that a service of re-opening was held in 
 the Eastern part of the rebuilded Cathedral in 1857, 
 when the Choir of Gloucester, after the dreary 
 interval of a century and a half, made " one sound 
 to be heard, in praising and thanking the Lord." 
 Then, lastly, Dean Williams set his strong hand, as 
 I have said, to the sacred enterprise, and in the 
 closing days of the sixties all was brought to a 
 successful issue. 
 
 A Welsh Festival at Llandaff is a glorious func- 
 tion. The effect of the ancient melodies wedded to 
 the ancient tongue as the long procession wends its 
 way from the Western doors is a thing on which, 
 long after, memory may love to dwell. The late 
 Canon Bruce was another of the Llandaff Chapter 
 to whom I bore an introduction, and I may say as I 
 look back to those my first days as a young cleric, 
 that I have nothing but kindness and friendly care 
 to recall
 
 CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE 199 
 Canon Bruce lived so quietly among his "own 
 people," that those outside his family circle and 
 more immediate friends might easily be unaware 
 how largely he was the possessor of gifts that in a 
 more public life could not have failed to enlist 
 attention. He was by nature a strong man, and 
 by reading a cultivated one. There did come an 
 occasion in his life the offer of a Deanerv when 
 
 4 
 
 he might have exchanged the quiet of a country 
 place for more stirring scenes. But it was declined, 
 and it remains only to note in him one of those 
 instances of chosen retirement that are rare enough 
 in any age. 
 
 At my curacy I made friends with a delightful 
 Irishman who rented my cousin's house, Mount 
 Balan. Never was there a more genial man, never 
 a more amusing companion, never a more loyal 
 friend, than John Franks. He was a graduate of 
 Trinity, Dublin, had lived for a time at Rome, 
 where he studied Art, and had settled in Mon- 
 mouthshire through his marriage. Always ready 
 in wit, he never knew what it was to be ill-natured. 
 Those who had the advantage of his acquaintance, 
 and may chance to read these pages, will feel that I 
 have but done him simple justice. One of his Irish 
 stories occurs to me. It is, I think, a fair proof of 
 the indescribable, and (to my thinking) quite inimi- 
 table humour of the people to whom he belonged. 
 The incident happened in the course of a Militia
 
 200 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 training. Good food in the shape of a pint of cocoa 
 and a pound of excellent bread was provided for 
 each of the men. Complaints were naturally almost 
 unheard of, for the poor fellows had come from far 
 worse fare than this in their scantily furnished 
 homes. But one day the officer on duty, putting 
 what had come to be a mere formal inquiry, was 
 surprised by a man standing up at the salute. 
 "Why, Tim, have you a complaint to make?" 
 " No, your honour, but I'd like to make an obsar- 
 vation." " Well, then, what is it ? " " Well, your 
 honour," replied the aforesaid Tim, holding out his 
 ration, " I was just going to obsarve that this bread 
 would be none the worse for a thrifle of butter ! " 
 
 It was about this time that I made my first 
 acquaintance with the Festivals of the three Choirs. 
 Afterwards the " Gloucester Music " became a great 
 feature in our lives. I suppose that there is nothing 
 in which the influence of the great Church revival 
 is more evident than in these gatherings. I never 
 knew them at their lowest ebb, but I can certainly 
 recollect when the question of holding a ball at the 
 end hung in the balance. It used to be said that at 
 one time a race meeting came into the consideration. 
 If so, it was long before I had any knowledge of the 
 neighbourhood. But certainly newspapers were 
 read and luncheons taken in the interval between 
 the renderings of the oratorios. As regards the 
 former, some one once suggested that if the Dean
 
 CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE 201 
 
 (Butler) chanced to see it, he might, from the force 
 of old habit, set the offender to write it out three 
 times ! Now, everything is changed. The Cathe- 
 dral Clergy are duly vested, and prayer precedes 
 each performance, which again is concluded with 
 the Benediction. And the fine orchestral Service 
 which is included in the arrangements puts a very 
 different face on the meeting from what it was a 
 generation ago. 
 
 There used to be an organ-blower at the Cathe- 
 dral who was a bit of a character. One day, the 
 organist returning from his own holiday met his 
 humble but indispensable assistant, and inquired 
 kindly of him whether he too had enjoyed a change. 
 The answer was in the affirmative, and the locality 
 duly specified, with this additional item of informa- 
 tion : " I knew the blower there, sir, and he let me 
 try his organ ! " 
 
 It was at a Gloucester Festival that Sir Hubert 
 Parry's "Job " was first heard in a Cathedral. There 
 was something especially noteworthy in the per- 
 formance of that fine work within the walls that 
 contain such tokens of his gifted father's brush. 
 Birmingham, a few years before, was the scene of the 
 production of "Judith." There was a great crowd 
 to hear it, and amongst the audience was Mr. 
 Gambier Parry. It was but a few weeks afterwards 
 that he swiftly passed away. The work entailed by 
 one of these Festivals is immense. Probably the
 
 202 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 average person who comes for a day of delight, 
 privileged to listen to the magnificent rendering of 
 the great composers, amid such surroundings, has 
 no sort of idea as to the long and severe labour it 
 has entailed in order that so great a result should be 
 obtained. Of course, a real difficulty lies in this, 
 that the expenses of the Festivals have already so 
 trenched on the resources of the neighbourhood and 
 the visitors as to leave only a moderate margin for 
 the collections, and it is by no means easy to see 
 how this can be remedied. There are, however, 
 excellent exceptions. 
 
 I shall long remember a ludicrous mistake that 
 occurred on the day when "Judith" was brought out 
 at Birmingham. Some of my party had started 
 with me at an early hour, and no opportunity had 
 offered for obtaining the score. As the express 
 ran into Worcester Station, I called to the boy at 
 W. H. Smith's bookstall for what we required. 
 "Have you got 'Judith'?" "Yes, sir, here you 
 are one penny," and he produced Judy! Ex- 
 planations followed, the penny grew, I suppose, to 
 some four shillings, and we reached our destination 
 at the Town Hall, duly equipped for our day's 
 music. 
 
 There could be no more pleasant hours in that 
 portion of our life on which God's sunshine rests 
 than those of the well-remembered gatherings in the 
 old Cathedral city. Friends from near, and friends
 
 CHARDSTOCK AND ELSEWHERE 203 
 
 from far, those whom one had not seen for many a 
 year, in which for both alike life's story had been 
 made, the leaders of English music, and the kindly 
 hosts around the College Green, whose welcome in- 
 cluded a constant stream of guests. And there, in 
 the centre, the glorious church which tells its own 
 tale of the past and the present, blending memory 
 and melody beneath its vaulted roof, a witness to 
 that spell of consecration, whereby the Divine Gift 
 to man is raised to its highest power, and the 
 successive phases of human history are met from 
 the unexhausted store of changeless Truth.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 BADMINTON 
 
 " DID you know Lord William, sir?" was one of 
 the early questions addressed to me on becoming 
 Curate of Badminton. I could not lay claim to that 
 honour; indeed, his Lordship died in my early child- 
 hood. So I was obliged to answer in the negative. 
 " Ah, he were something like a parson, sir, he were. 
 He did keep a pack of beagles," was the rejoinder. 
 Lord William, besides holding other preferments, 
 was a Canon of Bristol. And an incident of one of his 
 terms of residence is well remembered by some who 
 witnessed the same. He was driving four horses 
 up a hill in Clifton, when one of the team jibbed so 
 obstinately that there was no getting on. Lord 
 William took it with admirable coolness. Instead 
 of employing any of the cruel measures that, it is to 
 be feared, are too often resorted to, he remained 
 where he was, sent for some luncheon which he ate 
 
 on the box, after which he read his Times with 
 
 20-1
 
 BADMINTON 205 
 
 complete unconcern, until the recreant, weary of his 
 long waiting, was glad to go on, and, we will hope, 
 never repeated his silly behaviour. 
 
 Those were strange old days. A hard-working 
 curate took charge of one of the many parishes 
 which his Lordship had held, and introduced some 
 vigorous modern methods. We should not think 
 very much as to the innovations nowadays, seeing 
 that one of them was the provision for two services 
 by a competent substitute when on rare occasions 
 the clergyman was away for a Sunday. But this 
 conduct drew forth a compliment from a parishioner, 
 sincerely meant, but sufficiently ambiguous in its 
 expression : " Well, I will say this for you, when- 
 ever you do go out, you never sends us a worse one 
 than yourself " 
 
 In a church not many miles from Badminton, 
 there was a pew of the approved style with a fire- 
 place in it for the Squire's family. The good and 
 much respected landlord was wont to say to his 
 nephew, who, as a boy, was a good deal with him, 
 " Harry, poke the fire." This order was given at 
 the announcing of the metrical Psalm, and the conse- 
 quent musical preliminaries. Then quiet reigned 
 the preacher was an admirable man, and the Squire 
 an attentive hearer. But when twenty minutes had 
 expired an order was duly whispered, " Harry, 
 poke the fire." Then the discourse came without 
 needless delay to its close.
 
 206 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 The Vicar of Badminton, on whose nomination 
 I came there, was of a different bent of mind. 
 Joseph Buckley was the affectionate and trusted 
 friend of a wonderfully wide circle, and a man of 
 decided beliefs and tastes. I remember his telling 
 me how he travelled third class in 1845 over the 
 newly-opened Midland Railway to be present at the 
 memorable consecration of St. Saviour's, Leeds. 
 He came to Badminton, as we used to say, " With 
 penny postage," i.e., in 1840. Previously to that 
 he was curate of Stroud in company with Matthew 
 Hale, afterwards Bishop of Brisbane. In his time 
 there was daily prayer in Stroud Church at either 
 7 or 7.30 a.m. A wealthy mill owner bore the cost 
 of lighting the church during the winter months, 
 and Buckley never forgot that this good man and 
 all his family appeared the morning after a 
 disastrous fire in his works to render thanks to 
 Almighty God, for their own preservation from 
 danger. One saying of our dear old Rector 
 deserves to be written in letters of gold, " I am sure 
 that the words ' not worth while ' are responsible 
 for nearly all the gaps that have been allowed to 
 come into our Church worship and order." 
 
 The late Duke of Beaufort was a man of 
 extended and extraordinary popularity. I do not 
 think there is any exaggeration in saying that he 
 was a born leader of men. There was a readiness 
 of apprehension, a thoroughness in acquirement,
 
 BADMINTON 207 
 
 and a literal instinct of tact that marked him out for 
 distinction, and had he chosen to follow politics as 
 the main business of life, must beyond doubt have 
 placed him in the front rank. 
 
 Perhaps, above all, the grace and charm of his 
 courtly manners, and the individualising (every 
 one who knew him will follow my meaning) of a 
 generous nature, will remain as the more prominent 
 recollections of a host of friends, of all classes and 
 situations. There was never a more considerate 
 landowner, nor a more kind-hearted employer. It 
 is only within the last few days that I chanced to 
 hear of a letter he wrote to an old retainer, a fisher- 
 man on the Wye, as the shadows were creeping 
 quickly over his failing life. 
 
 I shall never forget one evening, many years ago, 
 when he related an interview with Napoleon III., 
 which took place at Richmond in the forties. Louis 
 Napoleon, as he then was, had just made good his 
 escape from the fortress of Ham. It was indeed 
 something to hear the story direct from the very 
 man to whom it was told. 
 
 I have already alluded to the hardships of school 
 life in the earlier part of the century. I do not 
 know what special discomfort it was that the Duke 
 had to encounter at a school where he was sent in 
 company with others of his own age and position, 
 but certainly, like many another child at that time, 
 he tried in his unhappiness to run away. The
 
 208 OLD TIMES AJVD NEW 
 
 late Earl Manvers was a fellow pupil of the Duke's, 
 and told me the details of the attempted escape. 
 Lord Glamorgan managed to reach the coach 
 undiscovered, and get a certain distance on his 
 journey to London. But his flight was of necessity 
 soon found out, and an emissary from the school 
 started in pursuit. Alas ! there was a short cut 
 open to a horseman, which enabled him to over- 
 take the vehicle that proceeded by a more circuitous 
 route, and at the end of the stage the coach was 
 searched, the fugitive discovered in his concealment, 
 and sadly reconducted to his unwelcome starting- 
 point. One cannot but be sorry for the lot of 
 children then, if only the world had not run into 
 a silly extreme in the opposite direction now, and 
 too often done away with all wholesome discipline 
 whatever ! The harshness, and the blows of those 
 days were terribly sad, and one may feel thankful 
 for a change that has meant so much for tender 
 lives. " The platforms," remarked an old friend to 
 me one day, when our two boys were returning 
 to school, " are filled with rejoicing sons and 
 lamenting fathers." 
 
 Not long before he died the Duke described in 
 a most graphic narrative, which I hope is embodied 
 in some more permanent form than the columns 
 of a newspaper, the circumstances of his first 
 election to the House of Commons in 1846. From 
 the entrance of the deputation, consisting of some
 
 BADMINTON 209 
 
 three farmers with large holdings in "the Cotswolds, 
 encountering the Marquis of Worcester (as he then 
 was) with his father, in the great yard on the west 
 side of the house, up to the climax, when after the 
 extremely doubtful pleasure of being "chaired "in 
 Gloucester, the new member set off in a special 
 train, reaching London in time to record his vote 
 against the repeal of the Corn Laws, the story is 
 full of interest, not only, either, for those who, like 
 the present writer, are familiar with the localities 
 concerned, but as a chapter of national methods 
 which have now passed entirely away. 
 
 The funeral at Badminton, when at an age 
 beyond that of his predecessors he was taken from 
 our midst, was indeed a memorable scene. It was 
 a cloudless day, in early May ; and as the body was 
 borne out of the church, the silence was broken 
 only by the multitudinous singing of the birds, for 
 though some three thousand people stood closely 
 crowded together, there was as it were a solitude 
 in the absence of movement or sound. 
 
 The death of his only daughter, the Marchioness 
 of Waterford, in the early part of 1897, was a blow 
 from which the Duke never wholly recovered. 
 Nor could any, who knew her even but slightly, 
 wonder that it should be so. Lady Blanche 
 Somerset was one of the noblest of women. From 
 a child she had lofty ideals, and in the deeply- 
 marked contrasts of brilliance and sorrow that 
 
 15
 
 210 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 belonged to her later life, she did not part from 
 them. Once in childhood, her birthday falling on 
 Good Friday, she of her own accord stopped the 
 church bells from being rung, as the custom was, 
 from a sense of incongruity on the Day of Death. 
 Sympathy with suffering that involved action at the 
 cost of personal effort, might not unfitly sum up the 
 main staple of her career. Some of my readers 
 may recall a case of cruelty that met with its 
 appropriate retribution in a London Police Court, 
 only because Lady Waterford had intervened. A 
 human brute was savagely beating the horse 
 attached to his cab late one night. It was over- 
 heard in the house in Charles Street, and the lady 
 of the house let herself out and followed the matter 
 up. It was so like her, a loving, fearless, faithful 
 woman, because the fear and the love of God were 
 the master motives of her unsullied soul. And 
 when the path which she must needs tread was 
 disclosed before her, then her courage was seen in 
 all its tenderness and strength. Calm and un- 
 flurried, her single care was that no one person and 
 no one thing should be forgotten. She sent for my 
 wife, whom she had regarded with affection from 
 her child days, and in arranging the day with me, 
 she deprecated any misplaced shyness in speaking 
 of what was in the near foreground. " It is a pity," 
 she said with a quiet touch of her old simple 
 humour, " that avoids the subject. People
 
 BADMINTON 211 
 
 seem to shun speaking of death, as though somehow 
 it was ungentlemanly to do so." l 
 
 Great state was wont to be kept up at Badminton 
 in former times. There is a monumental tablet to 
 a certain Saggiani, a quondam steward, near the 
 southern entrance to the church. This man, an 
 Italian, introduced into the household by, I think, 
 the fifth Duke, had very magnificent notions indeed. 
 The old clerk told me something of this " Mr. 
 Sadge-any," as the villagers appear to have called 
 him. It was a saying that if his Grace had 
 employed two men, one to dig guineas in the park, 
 and another to move them in a wheelbarrow down 
 to the house, they could not have brought enough 
 to pay the bills ! 
 
 There was a story of later date than this, which 
 shows how difficult it must have been to uproot the 
 ideas of lavish expenditure. Her Majesty was to 
 be entertained at luncheon by the preceding Duke 
 and Duchess at their house in London, very shortly 
 after the Accession. It appears that there was 
 a golden drinking-cup which was by his Grace's 
 orders especially to be set apart for the royal use. 
 So far all was clear, but a difficulty arose at this 
 point. It was quite uncertain whether the Queen 
 would select claret or madeira, and whichever way 
 her choice inclined it was needful that the wine 
 
 1 An ex-soldier writing to me within a day or two of her death, 
 used this striking expression, " She was one of God's own."
 
 212 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 should be served without any delay. The chief in 
 command was equal to the occasion. He assured 
 the Duke that there should be no hitch whatever, 
 nor indeed was there, for the moment her Majesty 
 expressed her preference, the wine was brought on 
 the instant, and in the appropriate goblet. When 
 all was concluded the Duke sent for his subordinate, 
 and bestowing praise for the excellent expedition 
 shown, asked him how he had managed to arrange 
 it so well. The reply was probably as unexpected 
 as it was costly, " Well, your Grace, as I could not 
 be certain which wine her Majesty would choose, 
 I sent to Hunt and Roskell's and had a second 
 goblet made exactly like the old one ! " 
 
 In one of the first attempts at reform, the kitchen 
 and the pantry were closed to his Grace's numerous 
 uninvited guests. And the result was a lamentation 
 that Badminton had all come to an end now ; there 
 was nothing to eat or to drink ! 
 
 A kindly friend of ours during the years we lived 
 at Badminton was the late Mr. Granville Somerset. 
 He was a constant and much-loved visitor at the 
 house, and as he had known my father-in-law at the 
 Bar, he always had a pleasant thought for us. 
 
 But we were very near indeed at the outset of 
 our time there to ending life altogether. The 
 Duchess took my wife and myself over to Berkeley 
 for one of the earlier Choral Festivals held in the 
 Diocese. All went well until we were well on our
 
 BADMINTON 213 
 
 way homewards. The irregular motion of the 
 carriage suddenly became alarming, and our un- 
 easiness was not decreased by the coachman putting 
 on his brake going uphill instead of down ! And 
 then, just at a moment when we fancied things were 
 better, and that the driver's muddled brain was re- 
 covering itself, there was a sudden horrible lurch, a 
 crash, and we were overturned. Happily it was in 
 the village of Hillesley, and, though the inhabitants 
 who ran out did not at first do more than bring a 
 lantern to the closed window of our prison, presently 
 we were afforded an exit, and, in God's wonderful 
 mercy, escaped without broken bones. It was in- 
 deed a marvellous deliverance, for had the horses 
 dashed forward the result must have been a fearful 
 disaster. A messenger ran on to the late Mr. 
 Hale's seat at Alderley, and his carriage was 
 quickly despatched to the scene of the accident, 
 and shaken, belated, but thankful, we at last 
 reached home. 
 
 I daresay we have all of us at some time or 
 another, when reading the schedule of fields in an 
 estate or on an auctioneer's notice, wondered how 
 the various pieces of land came by their names. It 
 fell to my lot when Curate of Badminton to watch 
 the process from its origin in the case of a road. 
 And this is how it came to pass. 
 
 The " Portcullis " in those days was kept by one 
 John Dauris, who was a Roman Catholic. His
 
 214 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 soubriquet among the villagers was naturally " the 
 Pope. " The Duke was constructing a new thorough- 
 fare in the village near the hostelry, and when the 
 men employed on it meditated a drink they used to 
 pass the word, so as to evade the ganger, "let us go 
 and see the Pope." And from this becoming known, 
 the road gradually took the style of " Pope's Lane." 
 A puzzle, perhaps, for some future inquirer, as was 
 " Bill Stumps, his mark," to a certain distinguished 
 group of antiquarians. 
 
 Of all people that I have ever known there are 
 scarcely any so loyal in their affection for old friends 
 as the Badminton folk. The lapse of years and 
 long absence in no way impair their attachment. 
 And there is no thought whatever of fee or reward. 
 
 Opposite our house there lived an old soldier of 
 Wellington days and memories. To the last, as 
 long as he could accomplish the walk, he would 
 never miss attendance at Church and at Holy 
 Communion. It was a delight to hear the old man 
 speak of sacred things, and to watch his consistent 
 practice of what he had learned. From him I heard 
 something of the rough old times. Nothing was 
 more perilous than the division of prize-money 
 among the survivors of a campaign. In a few 
 hours what might have been the provision for a 
 lifetime was dissipated in senseless waste. This 
 veteran described to me a scene of drunken im- 
 becility, when he saw a man engaged in placing a
 
 BADMINTON 215 
 
 frying-pan on the fire filled with gold watches ! 
 Less ghastly by far, yet piteous in its ruinous folly, 
 was the action of another a sailor newly landed. 
 He engaged the whole stage coach for himself, and 
 when the driver asked what was to be done with 
 the other intending passengers, he replied from the 
 outside where he had ensconced himself, " Put the 
 lubbers into the hold, but I won't have them on the 
 deck with me ! " Certainly it would seem that, 
 despite whatever an adverse criticism may still 
 rightly impugn, some of our modern methods can 
 claim a not unsubstantial advance. 
 
 This veteran's case was representative. There 
 was a great deal of religious feeling among the old 
 Badminton people. It was to some extent due to 
 the early Evangelical movement, and, it was said, 
 to the strong influence of a former Duchess. I 
 could add much as to the effect of a noble life and 
 example in one later too, did not my needful rule 
 exercise its limitation. Lent services were often 
 remarkably well attended, and a Good Friday in 
 the two churches was a day to live in one's memory. 
 The suspension of all except necessary work in 
 every department of the estate brought together a 
 great number of men, whose singing of the Passion 
 Hymns produced a most solemn effect. 
 
 Some very good cricket was played at Badminton 
 once upon a time. And a match with "I. Zingari " 
 ("they Zingarians," as I once heard an old fellow
 
 216 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 call them) was a brilliant sight on the ground in 
 front of the great entrance. In 1870 a contest had 
 been arranged between Lansdown and a home team. 
 The death of Earl Howe made it impossible to use 
 the usual spot close in sight of the house. So an 
 attempt was made, quocunque modo, to get ready a 
 temporary pitch near Worcester Lodge. The sides 
 were particularly strong. The Grace family were 
 in full force, and were divided between Badminton 
 and the visitors. Just before the game began 
 Dr. W. G. Grace went over the ground with me, 
 and said, " My young brother will get us all out 
 directly on a wicket like this." And so he did, and 
 his own side in their turn fared no better, so that 
 the whole game was very easily got over in a single 
 day. Nor was this all ; the extraordinarily lumpy 
 state of the pitch made the bowling so fatal that, 
 with one single exception, no one among all those 
 accomplished players made double figures! The 
 exception was this. 
 
 An old Oxford friend was staying with us for the 
 match, and had brought his servant with him. This 
 man a most loyal and trusted retainer, for very 
 many years a familiar figure at his master's beautiful 
 home had always played cricket, and he was put 
 into the Badminton Eleven for the day. His 
 appearance in the field was like the picture of Mr. 
 Mynn, which my cricketing readers will readily 
 remember. " Do you mean to say that old bloke is
 
 BADMINTON 217 
 
 going to play ? " I was somewhat scornfully asked 
 by one of the number. " Indeed, I do," was my 
 answer. And, indeed, he did, and in a stiff, old- 
 fashioned way he not only kept up his wicket, but, 
 as I have said, was the only one to reach a score of 
 more than nine runs ! 
 
 Amongst the constant guests at Badminton, the 
 amusing and accomplished John Loraine Baldwin 
 will be well remembered. There was a little room 
 at the end of the south corridor known as Mr. 
 Baldwin's room. Especially I recall his skill as a 
 gardener and a conjuror. In the latter capacity he 
 gave a series of entertainments at a great bazaar, in 
 1872, for the restoration of Sopworth Church. And 
 any who ever visited the little house at Tintern, 
 where as Warden he passed his later years, will 
 remember the conservatory, a present from the 
 Prince of Wales and the Zingari Club, where his 
 favourite flowers were grown. 
 
 Speaking of cricket, we had in our neighbourhood 
 a friend who in his day, both as a member of the 
 Cambridge Eleven and of the Zingari, had attained 
 a distinction that might easily have led a man of 
 less deep convictions and lower aims to have 
 sacrificed a great deal of time in so fascinating a 
 game. But H. K. Boldero was not the man to do 
 this. He had what men call a smooth path made 
 ready, for his uncle, Sir John Neeld of Grittleton, 
 a man who most honourably filled a place of great
 
 218 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 influence, had early in his course presented him to a 
 family benefice. Nothing that ordinarily goes to- 
 wards making life bright and successful was lacking 
 to him. He might have had a great deal of enjoy- 
 ment, and his neighbours would have held him 
 blameless. But he did not so choose. Perhaps I 
 may be allowed to repeat what I have said else- 
 where : " From the day that he placed himself 
 under the famous old Vicar of Cirencester, Pre- 
 bendary Powell, and served his apprenticeship in a 
 well-worked town parish, onward to the close, he 
 did not court his own ease. With the priesthood 
 came a clear call to him, and he was not disobedient 
 to it." Most truly was it written to me at his 
 death : " The sense of loss here is deep and 
 widespread, and there are many who feel that 
 his removal makes a gap in their life that cannot 
 be replaced, and that they have lost their best 
 friend." 
 
 Another notable neighbour was J. P. F. David- 
 son, Vicar of Chipping Sodbury, a man of singular 
 beauty of character, and rare sanctity of life. He 
 carried through the restoration of the fine old 
 parish church in such a manner as to make it the 
 pride of the countryside, in the face of almost 
 incomparable difficulties. Afterwards, as Warden 
 of the House of Mercy at Fulham, and subse- 
 quently as Vicar of St. Matthias, Earl's Court, he 
 became a very well-known man. His sermons
 
 BADMINTON 219 
 
 were deeply thoughtful and marked by a per- 
 suasiveness which held its own against opposition. 
 The tragedy of his daughter's death on the road to 
 St. Luc will still be fresh in every mind. There 
 can be little doubt, I think, that the awful shock 
 the accident happened in his actual sight, and he 
 most narrowly escaped with a slight injury had 
 much to do with curtailing a career full of helpful- 
 ness to very many. 
 
 None of the present generation is likely to have 
 met anywhere with a more delightful specimen of 
 the old-world gentleman (no earthly compliment 
 can be higher) than Robert Vanbrugh Law, Rector 
 of Christian Malford. He was at one time a well- 
 known and expert rider to hounds not that he 
 ever neglected his parish and schools on which, 
 beyond the standard of the day, he bestowed an 
 earnest attention. But sport was laid aside when a 
 turn in his life was read by him as an intimation. 
 He went abroad for a short time, and on his return 
 never hunted again. He came of a distinguished 
 and able family. His grandfather, Bishop of 
 Carlisle, left several sons, three of whom became 
 peers spiritual or temporal. The eldest was 
 Bishop of Elphin ; another was Chief Justice, and 
 raised to the Upper House as Baron Ellen- 
 borough ; a third was Bishop, first of Chester, and 
 afterwards of Bath and Wells. Robert Law had 
 received a Canonry from his father when at
 
 220 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Chester, but, on the Bishop's translation to the 
 southern see, being collated to the then valuable 
 living of Christian Malford, he, for conscience sake, 
 resigned the stall. It was as honourable, as it was 
 at the time an unusual step to take, and it gives me 
 as a grateful guest in my younger days high plea- 
 sure to record it. Mr. Law was a reader such as 
 we do not often encounter nowadays. He had 
 the strange custom of reading out the whole 
 hymn in church before it was sung. If most 
 other people had done it, the effect would have 
 been unbearable. Somehow, with him, it was 
 not so. 
 
 Our sojourn at Badminton covered several years. 
 An invitation from a friend whom many knew and 
 many love was not far from shortening it. Preben- 
 dary Neville, of Butleigh, in the neighbouring 
 county, having occasion through the loss of his son 
 to leave home, offered me the charge of his parish 
 in his absence. It was an attractive offer, but cir- 
 cumstances led to my declining it. 
 
 A mistake on the part of Bishop Wilberforce was 
 certainly no usual thing, but even he was caught 
 tripping once in a way. Mr. Neville, calling once 
 on the late Canon Carter of Clewer, found that his 
 friend's sick room had been a good deal disturbed 
 by a letter from his Diocesan which he was totally 
 unable to understand. It was handed to his visitor 
 for his advice, and Mr. Neville in a moment had a
 
 BADMINTON 221 
 
 clue to the imbroglio. There had been a mistake 
 as to the envelopes, and the distinguished cleric 
 had received a missive intended for a well-known 
 namesake a tradesman in the High Street at 
 Oxford !
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 HENLEY 
 
 SOME time in the seventies, a young clergyman was 
 examining the list of an agent in London with a 
 view to finding an eligible curacy. A rather off- 
 hand clerk suggested a vacancy at Henley-on- 
 Thames as likely to meet his requirements, adding 
 as a double inducement, " The regatta every year, 
 and the Rector a good sort of person." I do not 
 think the applicant ever agreed to the proposal 
 thus laid before him, but for one year it fell to my 
 own lot to be on the staff at Henley. We were 
 crowded out of our little house at Badminton, and 
 had to find a new home. Greville Phillimore, the 
 rector alluded to above, became a most agreeable 
 friend, and his sudden death in 1884 ended an 
 association marked by much interest. He was a 
 Christ Church man, of the old Oxford scholarly 
 sort, and in common with other members of his 
 family was a man of linguistic tastes, and consider-
 
 HENLEY 223 
 
 able general cultivation. When he was Vicar of 
 Down Ampney, in Gloucestershire, the then Vicar 
 of Kempsford, Woodford, afterwards Bishop of 
 Ely, and Canon Beadon, of Latton, joined with 
 himself in the compilation of "The Parish Hymn 
 Book." At one of their editorial conferences, held 
 in Kempsford Vicarage, attention was called to the 
 fact that a new hymn was needed for the Feast of 
 the Annunciation. Phillimore left his companions 
 for a solitary walk, and on his return brought with 
 him the very graceful verses beginning 
 
 " Lonely in her Virgin home." 
 
 He was actively concerned with the institution of 
 a School of Art in Henley, and enlisted my poor 
 services as, I think, treasurer. My duties were not 
 very onerous. He married a sister of the late 
 Mr. Ambrose Goddard, M.P. for the Cricklade 
 Hundred, as the seat was then styled. Mr. 
 Goddard's place, the Lawn, Swindon, has its gates 
 in the busy street of a now populous town. No 
 effect can well be more striking than that which 
 awaits a visitor after passing the lodge. He has 
 left all the bustle behind him, and from a beauti- 
 fully-wooded and quiet pleasure-ground has the 
 Wiltshire hills in delightful prospect. 
 
 Phillimore had many good stories to tell. Here 
 is one about his brother, the late distinguished and
 
 224 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 learned Dean of the Arches. The Archbishop of 
 Canterbury (Tait) had occasion to see him on 
 some matter of great urgency. A message brought 
 Sir Robert to Lambeth at an hour so early that 
 breakfast was in progress. He was shown at once 
 into the room where the Archbishop was awaiting 
 him. Looking up from his meal, his Grace, who 
 was eating an egg, exclaimed, "Welcome, Sir 
 Robert, and now we can begin ab ovo" " Cer- 
 tainly," replied the Dean, with a readiness that 
 amounted to genius, " but let us hope that we shall 
 not proceed usque ad mala." 
 
 Here is another Lambeth story, which belongs to 
 this time (1875), though not connected with the 
 Phillimores. A large assemblage of dignitaries was 
 gathered round the breakfast table. Next to the 
 Archbishop sat a visitor from the Northern Pro- 
 vince. Every face was well known to him, except 
 one, and presently he asked his host who the 
 stranger might be. "Oh," replied the Archbishop, 
 " it is not one of ourselves it is a friend from 
 Scotland, a minister of the kirk." " I thought," 
 was the rejoinder, "that it might be Lord Pen- 
 zance" The Archbishop promptly applied himself 
 to his coffee-cup. 
 
 I remember after a foreign excursion receiving 
 the following lines from my old rector : 
 
 "Pour aller voir 
 La fdret noire
 
 HENLEY 225 
 
 II faut d'argent un sac, 
 Une ame sans gene, 
 Une jambe assez saine, 
 Et aussi un estomac." 
 
 The allusion of the last line but one was to the 
 condition of his ankle, which he had sprained some- 
 what severely. 
 
 A very pleasant acquaintance was formed at 
 Henley with my rector's younger relations. One 
 of them was an indefatigable walker, and duly 
 armed with map and compass he and I set out 
 one foggy winter day for Watlington Court. My 
 wife's brother had married one of the Shaen 
 Carters, and I wanted to call at the house. Of 
 course, we lost our way, and our appearance when 
 we arrived late for luncheon must have been very 
 bedraggled. Like all his family, he was a well- 
 read, able man. I have never forgotten his ready 
 solution of the odd name of Poison-Ducks on the 
 Thames, near Hurley. He imagined it to be 
 Poisson-le-Duc, from the fisheries of the Earl of 
 Cornwall, afterwards King of the Romans. It is 
 worth while recording how he came at that par- 
 ticular time to be a guest at Henley Rectory. He 
 had been staying with another relation, Sir Robert, 
 at the Coppice. But Mr. Gladstone and Canon 
 Liddon had both arrived, and his room was wanted. 
 So he came away. But think what a trio was 
 assembled in that pleasant little country house ! 
 
 16
 
 226 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 And what must not the conversation have been 
 when those three men gathered round the fireside 
 as the evening drew on. 
 
 Henley in those days had a Corporation which I 
 think was still un reformed. I remember being 
 much struck by the scale on which municipal insti- 
 tutions were maintained in what was then a smaller 
 town than it is now. I believe changes have taken 
 place of late years, but not perhaps in the way of 
 diminishing the number of offices. At any rate, we 
 then boasted a learned recorder, a bench of alder- 
 men, and divers officials. The maces were exceed- 
 ingly good. The Corporation attended the parish 
 church on certain fixed occasions with a measure 
 of state which I heartily hope has not been dis- 
 continued. There was a certain elderly member 
 of the body, who has long since I believe passed 
 away, and whose appearance was exactly hit 
 off by Phillimore, who used to call him "the 
 Burgomaster." 
 
 The mayor during nearly the whole of our 
 sojourn in Henley was Mr. Brakespear. In early 
 life he had lived a great deal in France, where he 
 had relations by inter-marriage, and where he 
 passed through some stirring experiences. On 
 the morning of one Regatta day he had gone into 
 the yard of the "Catherine Wheel," when he was 
 suddenly accosted by a Frenchman who had just 
 arrived, and who was perfectly unknown to him.
 
 HENLEY 227 
 
 Mr. Brakespear was in a hurry, and had been 
 taken considerably by surprise. For one awkward 
 minute there was the risk of a misunderstanding, 
 which was happily averted by the stranger pro- 
 ducing his credentials, when the resident became 
 aware, to his surprise and pleasure, that the new- 
 comer was a Laroche-Jacquelin, with whose family 
 he had been formerly associated. 
 
 When Mr. Brakespear left France in his youth 
 the party stayed for a night at an inn, where they 
 were waited on by a very striking young woman, 
 whose appearance was not likely to be forgotten. 
 A very great number of years passed away before 
 he revisited the scenes of early days. Again he 
 put up at the same house, and was received at the 
 door by a tall, stately, elderly person. The hand- 
 some girl of years gone by had remained there 
 ever since. 
 
 The parish church of Henley is remarkable for 
 its width, as the many who have visited the pretty 
 old town will remember. Regatta Sunday was 
 favourably known by its results in the collections. 
 But perhaps not more than a few are aware that in 
 the south side chapel is the monument of one who 
 ended his days in the then comparative seclusion of 
 the river side, and over whose career angry dispute 
 has been waged. A century and more has swept 
 by since Dumouriez was fired upon by the National 
 battalions near the village of Doumet, and rode for
 
 228 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 life through darkness and dangers till he reached 
 the quarters of General Mack. 
 
 We received a great deal of kindness from many 
 quarters during the short time we lived at Henley. 
 Letters of introduction had been given by the late 
 Duke of Beaufort at Stonor Park, and thus an 
 acquaintance was formed with the Lord Camoys, 
 in whose favour the Queen, not long after her 
 accession, determined the abeyance of the ancient 
 barony. He was a man who, to use a common 
 expression, " carried his years " in a remarkable 
 way. His personal strength at a late period of 
 life was very great. On one occasion he spoke to 
 me of Cardinal Manning, whom he compared un- 
 favourably with Cardinal Newman. 1 Talking of 
 the former, I may mention that just at this time 
 we got at Bristol station into the same railway 
 carriage with him. It was the only occasion on 
 which I ever met His Eminence. His manners 
 and conversation were charming. And indeed his 
 whole bearing was so winning that our eldest 
 daughter, then a small child, was emboldened to 
 lean against his shoulder and go comfortably to 
 sleep, a proceeding which he in no way resented. 
 
 It was not through any letter of introduction, but 
 because of his own native kindness and courtesy, 
 
 1 I had quoted to him the saying of the Forties, that Manning's 
 sermons were " Newman set to music." His reply was, " In a 
 minor key."
 
 HENLEY 229 
 
 that pleasant relations sprang up with the late Mr. 
 W. H. Smith. He and Mrs. Smith, now Lady 
 Hambleden, were at the pains of calling on us in 
 our modest curate's house in New Street. There 
 was never a trace of patronage ; it was all as 
 natural as it could be. And herein is, we must 
 all say, a leading charm in a lofty character. 
 Those to whom acts of this sort are unknown are 
 ignorant also of some among the happiest bonds in 
 social life. The gratitude that follows on acts of 
 wellbred kindness is the prelude of permanent regard. 
 
 Another pleasant acquaintance was with the Hon. 
 C. and Mrs. Boyle, the parents of the present Lady 
 Tennyson, and of the Clifton College hero, who fell 
 so gallantly in the South African campaign. A 
 remark of Mr. Boyle's to the effect that as life wore 
 on there was a sadness following on the successive 
 changes in long familiar houses, the furniture in the 
 rooms remaining while the faces once known so 
 well had vanished from the scene, spoken as it 
 was with a special pathos of voice and manner, 
 has never faded from my memory. 
 
 Dr. Lawson Cape, the eminent London physi- 
 cian, was a visitor for a considerable time while 
 I held the curacy, and in him and Mrs. Cape we 
 found very staunch friends. One day, talking to 
 me about his life, he said, " When I first surrendered 
 practice I used to congratulate myself that I could 
 no longer be fetched away just as I was beginning
 
 230 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 my soup at dinner, but now I often wish for the old 
 busy round again." Readers of "Elia" will recall 
 that eventful day in his life when he too "came 
 home for ever." 
 
 Talking of doctors, there was a wonderful old 
 member of the profession still living and exceedingly 
 active in Henley. Mr. Jeston had been employed 
 as a surgeon in the Peninsula wars, and in 1876 
 might often be seen sculling on the river, attired in 
 his old-fashioned white stock and high hat. I once 
 asked him about his rule of living, as it seemed a 
 fair opportunity for obtaining the secret of longevity. 
 In his reply my veteran friend dwelt on the fact 
 that for many years he had always made his own 
 wine. I did not feel competent to follow his 
 example. 
 
 One very odd experience befell me in Henley 
 Church. Three couples came to be married, and 
 as I was going from the vestry the clerk asked me 
 what was to be done, as one of the intending brides 
 was stone deaf. I suggested that a prayer-book 
 should be held before her, and that the answers 
 should be pointed out when the time came to 
 make them. This was done, and we started 
 hopefully. But alas ! for my ingenious scheme. 
 Very soon after, instead of following her mentor's 
 prompting, the good woman, in reply to a query in 
 the service, announced to me confidentially, but in 
 very audible tones, "I'm fifty-three! "
 
 HENLEY 231 
 
 All visitors to Henley will remember the long 
 steep declivity that leads to the beautiful old bridge 
 from the high ground on the Remenham side. 
 There used to be a turnpike at the bridge end, and 
 in turnpike days the King or Queen always went 
 toll free. Queen Victoria was on one occasion 
 travelling by this road, but the gate was kept closed 
 by its custodian, who objected to the Sovereign's 
 privilege. The story goes that the carriage was 
 actually in sight, when a determined loyalist con- 
 fronted the obdurate official, and by offering an 
 alternative the river or an open gate in such a 
 manner as to leave no room for doubt as to his 
 entire sincerity, obtained a free passage for Royalty 
 just in the very nick of time. 
 
 There were two Grammar Schools, a higher and 
 a lower, now, I think, amalgamated. The master 
 of the latter, in my curate days, had the power of 
 enlisting the attachment of his boys in no ordinary 
 degree. And here is a curious proof of it. We 
 suffered in the winter from high floods. The gas 
 lamp at the end of New Street towards the river 
 remained lighted by day as well as by night for some 
 time, such was the difficulty of approaching it. At 
 an inn on the river side affected by the water one of 
 Mr. Rawling's pupils lived. And the lad, rather 
 than miss attendance at school, waded on to dry 
 ground with his shoes tied round his neck. A 
 testimony to the teacher indeed.
 
 232 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 This same winter I had occasion to start on short 
 notice for Torquay. When the "Flying Dutchman" 
 ran into Bristol station, I noticed that there were 
 placards affixed in different prominent places, but 
 did not happen to read them. We were not long 
 before we became aware of their contents. The 
 river Parrott had dangerously overflowed, and 
 suddenly we found ourselves entering on a vast 
 expanse of water. It was indeed a memorable 
 sight. There was the famous fast Great Western 
 train very slowly creeping along a mile, if my 
 memory serves me rightly, in something under 
 twenty minutes while boats were rowed close up 
 to the carriage windows. The danger of the ballast 
 being washed away must have been considerable, 
 and I do not think that any one who took part in 
 that journey would ever desire a repetition of the 
 adventure. 
 
 I might write more. There are names that I omit 
 with reluctance, associated as they are with many an 
 act of kindness, and a tried loyalty of friendship. 
 But, happily, their owners are living, and I must not 
 depart from the rule I laid down when I began these 
 pages.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 HIGHNAM 
 
 "I DO not know what the emoluments of Highnam 
 may be, but I should think it quite remuneration 
 enough to live beneath that glorious fresco," so 
 wrote an old and dear friend, himself an architect 
 of a refined and reverent spirit, on my being 
 appointed Vicar of the Holy Innocents' Church. 
 I cannot better begin this part of my story 
 than by giving some account of this famous 
 building. 
 
 Readers of Macaulay's History will recall that 
 most picturesque passage in which, comparing the 
 England of 1685 with that of his own day, he says 
 that "The country gentleman would not recognise 
 his own fields. The inhabitant of the town would 
 not recognise his own street. Everything has been 
 changed, but the great features of nature, and a few 
 massive and durable works of human art." This is 
 eminently true of Highnam. The old chapel which
 
 234 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 once stood in what is now the garden of the Court 
 has long ago vanished, the magnificent edifice that 
 is the glory of the country side occupies a site which 
 in itself is an apt illustration of the historian's words. 
 The coach road of former times ran considerably 
 westward of its present track. Its old direction can 
 still be clearly traced near the eastern end of the 
 church. There was a lane that struck off from it, 
 skirted by high banks, and now for half a century 
 where these things used to be, thousands of visitors 
 have feasted their eyes on the noble building, set in 
 its surrounding acre, bordered by avenues of Irish 
 yews that suggest a procession of giants bearing 
 their dead chief to his grave. It is worth noting 
 that the church stands where once a battle was 
 fought, and cannon balls came to light in digging 
 the foundations. The great spire, its eight faces 
 elaborate with foliated work, soars above, a land- 
 mark far and wide. It is a thing to be recorded, on 
 every account, that when Sir Gilbert Scott first saw 
 it, he declared it to be the finest modern spire within 
 his own observation. 
 
 The history of Highnam Church is a typical piece 
 of English Church History. When the late Mr. 
 Gambier Parry purchased the estate in 1837, the 
 property was co-terminus with three hamlets making 
 up a considerable district. The furthest point was 
 at a considerable distance from the Mother Church ; 
 the old Chapel, as I have said, had disappeared.
 
 HIGHNAM 235 
 
 Church, Vicarage, Schools, Endowment, all came 
 into being from one munificent hand. Some people 
 seem to forget that the free-will offerings of our own 
 time are in line with the great deeds of our fore- 
 fathers. Because like things were done a thousand 
 years since, why are the resulting gifts less the 
 Church's own than that of the founder of Highnam? 
 
 By the way, Mr. Parry once told me (and it is a 
 further illustration of what was said just now) that 
 on his first possession of the property the ground 
 below the site of the church was a piece of useless 
 marsh. He let it to a potato grower, rent free, 
 with a view to its redemption. This was long 
 before the days of disease. The lucky tenant 
 made an excellent profit out of the transaction, 
 and in due time a stretch of firm and fertile 
 soil was returned to the landlord. And thus, as 
 our Devonshire saying goes, no one "was the 
 loser" after all. 
 
 The time when the church was projected, and 
 the years in which it was being built, were days of 
 grave anxiety and distress. Newman had but 
 lately left us, and the English Church was still 
 "reeling" under the blow, when the enterprise first 
 took a practical form. The Gorham decision was 
 given the year before the building was consecrated. 
 High hopes had been disappointed, fresh apprehen- 
 sions had begun to take shape. But the object 
 of the founder was clear before him, as his faith
 
 236 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 in the credentials and mission of the National 
 Church was firm and unvarying. He meant that 
 new parish church, built in a troublous time, to be a 
 centre of reverent worship, a witness to the truth of 
 Anglican principles. And from the very first it 
 began to be a power. Assuredly Mr. Gambier 
 Parry was not disappointed in the main design 
 which he had carried into effect, and many and many 
 a person must have learned at Highnam the first 
 rudiments of what worship really is many and 
 many a heart, sad and perplexed, re-assured by the 
 re-assertion of obscured truths. A generation that 
 has grown up since those days amid the revival of 
 religion can scarcely imagine the effect of the 
 services, rendered by a choir of surpliced boys, and 
 maintained without stint, an offering as worthy as 
 might be of Him to whom it was given. Some 
 years before the time came for the present writer to 
 resign the living, in one particular the church had 
 done its work. All around, from the glorious 
 Cathedral of Gloucester to the smallest parish in the 
 countryside, a new order of things had set in. 
 Highnam was overtaken by the main body to which 
 she had acted so long as pioneer. No longer were 
 groups of attentive worshippers to be found in the 
 porch and far out into the churchyard joining in the 
 sacred strain, no longer were the winter Sunday 
 Evensongs eagerly sought by the villagers from the 
 district round, for multiplied opportunities were
 
 HIGHNAM 237 
 
 now obtainable at their own doors. The Holy 
 Innocents' Church was a "venture of faith" when 
 men's hearts were failing them for fear. Time 
 went on, and the enterprise was abundantly 
 justified. 
 
 The visitor then, as indeed to-day, might wonder 
 how music so excellent was obtainable from a 
 population so sparse. The answer is that the year 
 before the consecration a choral society was set on 
 foot, and afterwards a resident organist was 
 appointed by the generous action of the founder. 
 Every child that showed the least capacity for 
 singing had ample opportunities for cultivating the 
 voice. And the results were a remarkable proof of 
 what can be done. In the fifties the open-air 
 concerts were a well-known institution. Again and 
 again, I have known solo boys from the cottages, 
 with a quality of voice and a correctness of render- 
 ing that out-distanced many a place of far larger 
 resources. 
 
 It is difficult to convey to a reader who has never 
 stood within the church of Highnam the pro- 
 foundly religious effect that is attained. Perhaps 
 if it is said that of all modern churches it is in 
 spirit the most unmodern, and that there is in the 
 union of architectural design with the richness of 
 colour, a suggestiveness of mystery, an inspiring 
 sense of awe, a feeling of things that are not of this 
 present world, some slight indication may be con-
 
 238 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 veyed. "The beauty of holiness " was the summary 
 expressed by one, highly-gifted, who has now passed 
 away from us. 
 
 The method of spirit-fresco by which the great 
 wall paintings were produced, and which, after some 
 forty English winters, has fully vindicated its claim, 
 was the founder's own discovery. It was never 
 rewarded. His own country passed him by, and it 
 was reserved for a neighbouring nation to do all 
 that was done in the direction of awarding him 
 praise. And by the irony of events even this was 
 not to be. Just as France was about to bestow her 
 mark of recognition, it was found that Hippolyte 
 Flandrin had independently arrived at a similar 
 process, and, as was of course but natural, the prize 
 went to him. Nay, more, even the casket pre- 
 sented by the Dean and Chapter of Ely, in acknow- 
 ledgment of the great artistic services rendered 
 freely to that Cathedral, was not destined to 
 survive. In a burglary that was long after talked 
 about, the thieves made off with this, and, I think, 
 wrenched off the silver, but left the oak box behind 
 them. 
 
 A visit of the late Mr. Edwin Long, R.A., to 
 Highnam Church brought a very pleasant result 
 to me. Shortly afterwards I was introduced to him 
 in his studio, and the sequel of his sight of the wall 
 paintings and our subsequent conversation in 
 London was the welcome arrival of a photograph
 
 HIGHNAM 239 
 
 of " Anno Domini," sent me by himself. He was, 
 I remember, engaged on "Jephthah's Daughter" 
 when I saw him at work. 
 
 I may here insert a curious anecdote Mr. Parry 
 told me of the time when he was engaged on the 
 walls of the church. One day, mounted on his 
 scaffold and clad in a linen jacket much besplashed 
 with colours, he observed a visitor enter the build- 
 ing and look round him superciliously, much as 
 Canon Liddon has described a certain class of 
 worshipper (?) who brings to the services of the 
 Church the favour of his splendid patronage. 
 Presently the painter addressed him, and expressed 
 a hope that he was pleased with what he saw. 
 " Oh ! the church is well enough," was the reply, 
 "but I'm a great deal more pleased to have 
 seen you." "Indeed," rejoined Mr. Parry, "and 
 may I ask why ? " " Why," was the answer, 
 " because I have heard that this Mr. Parry 
 gives himself out as the artist, and now I have 
 been and seen you doing it." "As if," our 
 friend afterwards commented, " he expected to 
 see me at work in a frock coat and kid 
 gloves." 
 
 Before quitting the subject of the church, I 
 will just add that the triumph of artistic genius 
 is to be seen in the fact that things usually so 
 hopelessly ugly are at Highnam features of beauty. 
 I do not think such charming work is any-
 
 240 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 where else to be found surrounding a heating 
 apparatus. And I fancy that while his friend, 
 Mr. Woodyer, was the designer of the actual 
 building, some of these features are to be 
 credited to the rare taste and capacity of the 
 founder himself. 
 
 Let me try to say something of this remarkable 
 man, of whom no record has been written, to whose 
 great gifts and noble life such scanty justice has 
 been done. He told me once that of human direc- 
 tion in the selection of a special career he had little 
 or nothing. His great-uncle, the gallant and good 
 Lord Gambier, the first President of the Church 
 Missionary Society, was the guardian of his orphan 
 childhood, and he always deeply respected his 
 memory. Eton, Cambridge, foreign travel, and the 
 purchase of an estate fairly comprise what was in 
 regular order mapped out for him. The rest, on 
 his own assurance, was absolutely the Divine lead- 
 ing. Thus it came to pass that without extraneous 
 prompting he had, before he took his degree, visited 
 every church within a considerable radius of the 
 University that possessed any special points of 
 interest, and had made sketches of its notable 
 features. This, it must be remembered, was before 
 the inauguration of the Cambridge Camden Society. 
 As an undergraduate also he made the valuable 
 purchase of the Liber Studiorum. 
 
 One very characteristic story of the Eton of his
 
 HIGHNAM 241 
 
 days may find a place at this point. He had been 
 sent by his fag-master to buy a cold roast fowl for 
 tea or supper, and was returning with it, when, face 
 to face, in a place that admitted of no shirking, he 
 encountered the terrible Dr. Keate. " Boy, what 
 have we here?" was the immediate question. There 
 could only be one reply, but the Head was con- 
 templating what instant disposal could be made of 
 contraband goods. Fortune favoured him. A 
 poor woman came round the corner, who, much 
 terrified, obeyed the summons of Dr. Keate. 
 Yet more to her surprise, he presented her with 
 the confiscated dainty, and poor young Parry 
 was fain to return re infectd to report his mis- 
 adventure, with results which it is possibly easy 
 to conjecture. 
 
 It was in the spell of travelling in Italy which 
 followed his degree, the first of a long series of 
 journeys, that a very important stage was reached 
 in my old friend's art-development. For then the 
 foundation was laid of that valuable and most 
 interesting collection in which the many visitors at 
 Highnam Court were able to delight during after 
 years. It would be out of place here to enter into 
 detail, and it must be sufficient to say that from 
 the remarkably fine Cimabue onwards among the 
 pictures, the Consular diptych as, I think, the 
 earliest of the curios, with work of Mino da 
 Fiesole on the one hand, and rare examples of 
 
 17
 
 242 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 mediaeval glass and china on the other, there is a 
 varied and an ample feast for the eye that is 
 taught to know the lines and tokens of beauty. 
 
 One picture of a modern date I must take leave 
 especially to notice, because it happens to be inci- 
 dentally the only portrait extant of Kempenfelt, 
 who went down with the ill-fated Royal George, the 
 subject of the dirge 
 
 "Toll for the brave." 
 
 Mr. Gambier Parry's grandfather accompanied 
 Admiral Cornish as his Private Secretary on the 
 Manila expedition. He was painted by Zoffany, 
 sitting in the Admiral's cabin, ready to take notes 
 of an interview between his chief, and Kempenfelt, 
 who is entering the cabin in response to a signal. 
 There is no finer example of this great artist, I 
 believe, anywhere in existence. 
 
 There was no mistaking Gambier Parry's artistic 
 vocation. The singularly mobile face, the rapidity 
 and eloquence of gesture that alternated with 
 phases of a remarkable repose it was impossible 
 to be in his company casually for an hour without 
 understanding that his was a most unusual person- 
 ality. He was in the fullest sense of the term 
 a cultivated man. His was a nature that abhorred 
 smattering, and whether it were languages, music, 
 painting, antiquarian research, horticulture, or what
 
 HIGHNAM 243 
 
 not, you felt in a moment that you had to do with 
 a man who not only possessed talent, but who also 
 seconded it by conscientious industry. No anecdote 
 ever caused more amusement to his friends than 
 that of a most ludicrous mistake made long ago by 
 a lady whom, as a perfect stranger, he had taken 
 in to dinner at a London house. By way of starting 
 a conversation he asked her if she had noticed the 
 very large price just then obtained by an egg of 
 the great Auk. Her answer was, " I think you 
 mean a hawk, do you not ? " Gambier Parry and 
 a dropped H ! 
 
 Yes, he was an artist of rare order. Those who 
 like myself enjoyed his friendship for many years 
 were persons exceptionally favoured. And one 
 may only too truly regret that such advantages as 
 were thus afforded were not in my own case turned 
 to better account. Art was with him a matter that 
 allowed of no trifling. A dilettante playing with 
 the subject was simply abhorrent to his mind. He 
 taught us how a true picture was no servile trans- 
 ference of detail to canvas. He grasped the inner 
 "soul " of a landscape, and then clothed the concep- 
 tion with colour. In one word, he regarded Art as 
 nothing less than a revelation, and I cannot sum- 
 marise his thought better than by quoting his own 
 words. " The origin and consummation of beauty 
 is in that Love which God has said He 'is." 
 ..." Happy are they that have their hearts
 
 244 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 pure, and their intelligence of sense and spirit 
 
 bright, to perceive beneath the outward show 
 
 of things, the living Majesty of that Wisdom, 
 
 Power, and Love Divine, whence PERFECT 
 
 BEAUTY, the fountain of all joy, flows forth for 
 
 ever." 
 
 Our mutual friend, the late Archdeacon Norris, 
 once said to me, " Gambier Parry is an anachronism, 
 he has no business to be alive, for he is a Floren- 
 tine gentleman of the fifteenth century." Many an 
 old friend will recognise the fidelity of the descrip- 
 tion, but it was not intended to cover the whole 
 ground, for no one knew better than Norris how 
 much it left unnoticed. 
 
 For Parry was no dreamy idealist, of all men 
 he was the most diligent, and that, too, for con- 
 science sake, in districts of work that often taxed 
 his endurance to the utmost. Each morning found 
 him at the daily service of the Church, a prelude 
 to a day of exacting activities, and which was too 
 often prolonged by arrears of work until another 
 day had begun. Diocesan institutions and societies 
 had in him their most strenuous worker, but county 
 business, magisterial work, and endless committees 
 equally claimed his time and his thought. Looking 
 back at it all from the standpoint of the present I 
 understand now, as I did not then, the peculiarly 
 pathetic situation of this gifted spirit, unflinchingly 
 plodding on with routine business, hour after hour
 
 HIGH NAM 245 
 
 of the precious sunshine that meant so much for 
 him in his life as a painter. And when the Angel 
 of the last summons gently touched him and bade 
 him go, it was at the close of a day given, so far 
 as his swiftly failing strength would permit, to the 
 service of the great Cathedral church which his 
 genius had already so enriched. There is across 
 the face of St. Andrew's Chapel, opening out of the 
 southern transept, a colossal buttress to support the 
 outward thrust of the tower. Many years before 
 he had made the walls of this "little sanctuary" 
 glorious with his brush, and now, as the end drew 
 on, the Dean (Dr. Spence) had consulted him on 
 behalf of the Chapter as to a possible treatment 
 of this difficult feature. He saw in a moment that 
 the masonry lent itself to a representation of Jacob's 
 ladder, and he began diligently to make studies of 
 the angels ascending and descending upon it. I 
 shall always esteem it a privilege that my youngest 
 daughter sat to him in this his closing earthly 
 work. For it was on the eve of St. Michael that, 
 having remarked to an old friend who was a guest 
 in the house that he had painted the last of the 
 series, he exchanged, after a few minutes of sudden 
 unconsciousness, the aspirations and travail of a 
 noble life amidst the things that are seen for the 
 far better vision dawning ever more and more fully 
 where time and space are not. His last completed 
 work, a noble triptych, was placed at his head
 
 246 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 where he awaited his last earthly rest. So he 
 died, and a mighty concourse of all classes and 
 conditions of men gathered in the autumn after- 
 noon around his grave beneath the eastern 
 window. There was grieving far and wide when 
 it became known that this loyal, lovable Church- 
 man, artist, and gentleman had passed from our 
 midst. He had won the enthusiastic regard and 
 affection of many the gratitude of numberless 
 sharers in his bounty. A magnificent window in 
 the Cathedral records his life and work, but the 
 best monuments outside Highnam itself are, after 
 all, the Children's Hospital and the St. Lucy's 
 House of Charity, that owed their existence to 
 him. Year by year adds to the many thousands 
 who have found the relief of bodily suffering 
 through his unstinted generosity, and for the 
 rest, the hidden store of spiritual blessing due to 
 his initiative and fostering care, that Day shall 
 declare it. 
 
 A succession of guests, men and women of high 
 report in the world of letters and of art, in Church 
 and State, enjoyed the graceful hospitality of 
 Highnam Court. Mrs. Gambier Parry was a 
 model hostess. She was a lady of much cultiva- 
 tion, with a considerable experience of the world, 
 and the admirable gift of always being interested 
 in what interested her guests. Her own family 
 supplied a notable number among those who made
 
 HIGH NAM 247 
 
 Highnam Court such a charming place for visitors 
 in old days. 
 
 Her brother-in-law, the brave and true-hearted 
 Bishop Hamilton of Salisbury ; his saintly wife ; 
 her brother Sidney's widow, the accomplished 
 authoress of "A Dominican Artist"; Sir Vivian 
 Majendie, the great authority on explosives, who 
 bore so leading a part as inspector in the dynamite 
 troubles, were amongst the group. I do not forget 
 how much more is to be said of Mrs. Gambier 
 Parry her high spiritual ideal, and, inter alia, 
 her fine taste and skill in Church needlework, 
 whereby many a place was made glorious. But 
 I pass on. A few among the names of the guests 
 which I recall may not be without interest. Arch- 
 bishop Tait, Canon Liddon, Sir Frederick Leighton, 
 the Earl and Countess of Selborne, Sir Michael 
 Hicks- Beach, Dr. Ball (Astronomer Royal), Mr. 
 Freeman, the historian, Mr. Beresford Hope, 
 Mr. Ferguson, Mrs. Fawcett, and Captain Galton 
 a mere fraction of a famous throng. Their 
 host's table-talk, it is needless to add, was most 
 varied and brilliant. He had enjoyed exceptional 
 opportunities, and had exceptionally employed 
 them. 
 
 The Lyttelton family were several of them on 
 intimate terms with the Highnam Court people. 
 One evening this story of the late Lord Lyttelton 
 was told us. There had been a lively but friendly
 
 248 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 passage of arms between him and Archdeacon 
 Denison. George Anthony indignantly rejoined 
 that his Lordship seemed to consider Archidiaconal 
 duties as chiefly negative. To which the answer 
 was that the only negative aspect involved was that 
 which every one would unite to wish the Arch- 
 deacon, viz., a mens sa-nay in a corpore sa-no. 
 This brilliant sally must have restored peace on 
 the instant. 
 
 Before I close this brief sketch, it occurs to me 
 to set down two reminiscences of Mr. Parry's, sin- 
 gularly illustrative of England in the thirties. He 
 described on one occasion to a party where I was 
 present a trial trip made on the London and Bir- 
 mingham Railway (now the London and North- 
 Western) as far as Berkhamstead. A number of 
 invitations had been issued, and he was included. 
 All went well to the very close of the day, when 
 as the train entered Euston Station in some way 
 control was lost on the brakes, and the engine ran 
 with great force against the blocks at the end of 
 the platform, on which, in various directions, the 
 luckless excursionists were scattered. And the 
 other takes me back again to dear old Torquay. 
 He always called the Strand " Frying-pan Row," 
 from early association, by the way. And he would 
 relate how as a very young man he went out 
 sketching amidst exquisite surroundings, where 
 now houses stand thickly, and as he painted, a
 
 HIGHNAM 249 
 
 gentleman from one of the very few residences 
 near came out in astonishment to watch what he 
 evidently thought was an unusual pursuit, and 
 ended by waiting in person on the artist, and 
 fetching water to supply his needs.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 HIGHNAM (continued) 
 
 ANOTHER well-known man with whom I was 
 closely associated in Highnam days was William 
 Philip Price, the owner of the adjoining property, 
 Tibberton Court. His was assuredly a notable 
 personality. Educated at Rugby, he must there 
 have acquired the first elements of a classic taste 
 that was so marked a feature of his later years. 
 He married very early, acquiring a very consider- 
 able fortune with his wife, and gave up the first few 
 years that followed first to travel, and then to sport, 
 of which he was exceedingly fond. But it was not 
 very long before he formed the definite resolution 
 of turning life to the fullest account, and gradually 
 his extraordinary power became evident. What a 
 crowded life it was as stage after stage of it was 
 developed ! The great timber firm, of which he 
 was senior partner, might have supplied to most 
 men more than enough to do. It was only one 
 
 250
 
 HIGH NAM 251 
 
 item in the list of employments, each and all of the 
 first importance. Chairman of the Midland Rail- 
 way Company, as well as Chairman of the 
 Gloucestershire Banking Company ; twenty years 
 in the House of Commons ; and then a Railway 
 Commissioner till the time of his death. Nor 
 does even this enumeration exhaust the list. He 
 carried on farming on a large scale, partly by neces- 
 sity as land troubles began. And with all this his 
 loved classical studies went on. Visitors to Tib- 
 berton in those days will remember a shelf quaintly 
 contrived in the mantelpiece of his library where 
 a row of favourite authors in miniature were ready 
 to their owner's hand. It may well be asked how 
 such a formidable array of occupations could ever 
 have been attempted with any hope of success. 
 The answer is doubtless partly to be found in the 
 fact that Mr. Price was able to carry out the busi- 
 ness of life on a marvellously small measure of 
 sleep. Four hours sufficed him, while two more 
 were allowed for lying in bed, " to rest his bones," 
 as he used to say. But a table with a lamp was 
 by his side, and in those two hours he kept abreast 
 of the magazine literature of the day. Then again 
 he possessed in a most remarkable degree the 
 power of concentration. He had acquired, too, the 
 faculty of quickly disentangling the vital portion 
 of any business in hand from all that was merely 
 indifferent or superfluous. After all this, my reader
 
 252 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 will not be surprised to hear that Mr. Price was 
 never in a hurry, but always appeared to have 
 the time to attend to you and your matters which 
 a different class of man, with not a tenth part so 
 much to do, would have irritably declared to be 
 absolutely impossible. 
 
 One way and another I used to see a good deal 
 of him. He was always exceedingly kind to me, 
 and he was, always, "excellent company." 
 
 Our conversations were largely on religious sub- 
 jects. He had been, to use his own expression, 
 "swaddled in Unitarianism." There were times 
 when it seemed as though he approached the fron- 
 tiers of the Faith, and looked wistfully at that which 
 he could not bring himself wholly to accept. I shall 
 never forget his delight with the sermons of Eugene 
 Bersier. As the volumes reached me, I used to 
 pass them on to him. The beauty of those wonder- 
 ful discourses, and the strength of the appeal that 
 was clothed in such exquisite language won greatly 
 upon him. But the strong active life that seemed 
 as if it were endowed with immunity against years 
 and weakness, with brief warning came to an end, 
 and the spirit that was in such sympathy with all 
 that made for personal religion, passed into the 
 presence of the One who alone knows all, and alone 
 judges right. 
 
 The winter of 1890-91 was severe. He took a 
 chill one day on a journey, and though he held out
 
 HIGHNAM 253 
 
 for a while, there was a great and evident change. 
 On Easter Even I met a tenant of his in Gloucester 
 who pressed me to go to Tibberton without delay. 
 I did so on the Monday, but the physician from 
 Malvern had arrived, and I was unable to see him. 
 That evening very suddenly the call came, and the 
 association of many years was at an end. 
 
 Some time before this an incident occurred of so 
 unusual a character, in which his own part was so 
 delightfully discharged, that my readers would not 
 readily forgive its omission. Many years ago a 
 certain Mr. Case of Brasenose, an intimate friend of 
 Bishop Forbes of Brechin, joined the Roman 
 Catholic Communion. He was ordained, and 
 became a Canon, I think, of Clifton. His charge 
 was the mission in Gloucester, where he formed 
 a close friendship with Mr. Price, whom he named 
 as executor of his will. When the Infallibility 
 decree was promulgated, Canon Case was unable to 
 accept it. And when the time came for a definite 
 course of action to be taken, he resigned his cure. 
 There is, I believe, little doubt that his beliefs had 
 been considerably disintegrated for some little time, 
 and he passed not only (necessarily) into lay com- 
 munion, but eventually into a position of Agnos- 
 ticism. His friend, the learned and saintly Prelate, 
 had pre-deceased him, and among poor Case's 
 effects were found a pectoral cross that had belonged 
 to the Bishop, and one other relic of his old com-
 
 254 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 panion, but what it was I cannot now recall. Mr. 
 Price, finding these treasures, consulted me as to their 
 disposal. I suggested that I should enter into com- 
 munication with the then Bishop of Brechin as to 
 their conveyance to the see. Mr. Price immediately 
 fell in with the plan. The gifts were forwarded by 
 him to Scotland, accepted by the Diocesan Synod 
 which was then sitting, and placed as a permanent 
 possession in the episcopal residence. 
 
 Eminent alike among our neighbours and in the 
 ranks of English country gentlemen, was the late 
 Mr. Barwick Lloyd Baker of Hardwicke Court. 
 Born to an ample inheritance, his long life knew 
 little leisure, rather it was one sustained activity on 
 behalf of those whom sin or sorrow had placed in 
 the shady by-paths of our social life. He once, in 
 talking to me, epigrammatically summed up his 
 career in this sort, " For many years I was a 
 criminal, and now for many years I have been a 
 pauper." That is to say, he devoted all his earlier 
 energies to combatting crime, and his latter efforts 
 were directed to the problems of poverty. Not 
 long before his death, reviewing the past with his 
 old friend, Mr. Gambier Parry, he said, " Do you 
 know, I think I must have had a good bit of the 
 mule in me ? " All who ever knew him will recog- 
 nise readily enough the feature which he thus in 
 homely words described. There was in him that 
 noble obstinacy which disdains danger, declines dis-
 
 HIGHNAM 255 
 
 suasions, and, as on the field of Waterloo, does not 
 know when it is beaten. Not that Mr. Barwick 
 Baker ever was beaten. Where he was pioneer a 
 multitude followed within no long time, and he was 
 spared for many years to see the growing results of 
 his beneficent initiative. 
 
 It must have been about the year 1835 or 1836 
 that he entered on his duties as a visiting justice of 
 the county gaol. And it was the sight of boys and 
 lads who had fallen into evil courses being sent time 
 after time to prison, that led him into that splendid 
 enterprise of Industrial Schools with which his 
 honoured name will always be inseparably asso- 
 ciated. 
 
 It is true that towards the close of the eighteenth 
 
 o 
 
 century an attempt was made in London to set up a 
 reformatory, but the laudable scheme unhappily 
 failed, as did also one or two later endeavours. 
 But the moment had come, and the man. I should 
 rather say, the men. For it was to Mr. George 
 Bengough, of the Ridge, in the county of 
 Gloucester, that Mr. Barwick Baker was indebted 
 for that vigorous co-operation which enabled him 
 to put his matured theories into actual practice. 
 The first buildings, often since then enlarged, were 
 set up at Hardwicke, near the canal, in 1852. It 
 was at once a success, and when the founder's letter 
 on the diminution of juvenile crime in the country 
 was reprinted by the Times, the " flowing tide set
 
 256 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 in." The work has gone forward by leaps and 
 bounds since then. 
 
 Before I quit the subject of Hardwicke, I must 
 not fail to mention the magnificent Zoffany that is 
 so cherished a possession there. It represents a 
 family water-party (musical) on the Thames. I 
 have already spoken of the famous example of this 
 good artist at Highnam Court. Fortunate the 
 county that possesses two such pictures in such close 
 neighbourhood. Mr. Barwick Baker carefully pre- 
 served his recollections of the terrible Bristol Riots 
 in 1831. He used to say that he well remembered 
 standing with his father in front of Hardwicke 
 Court, and seeing clearly the red glow from the 
 distant burning town. He related at length how 
 his servant woke him early, to say that in the night 
 a post-chaise and four had passed at a gallop, and 
 that a little after a squadron of the i4th Light 
 Dragoons had followed swiftly towards Bristol. 
 " Before breakfast Mrs. Beckwith, the wife of the 
 Major, came from Gloucester and asked us to take 
 her in, as an express had come the night before to 
 her husband who was in command, Colonel Town- 
 send being on leave, ordering him to go to Bristol. 
 Mrs. Beckwith stayed with us till the Major 
 returned, and the then numerous stage coaches that 
 passed our lodge brought us constant news from 
 Bristol. 
 
 "When the officers returned, of course many of
 
 HIGHNAM 257 
 
 them dined with us, and we had much talk. My 
 impression is as follows. Beckwith posted down as 
 fast as four horses could take him, but stopped at 
 Filton, called up Gage, and ordered him to march 
 his squadron to the Temple (College) Green, as it 
 was then called. Beckwith drove on, caught a 
 magistrate, and came to the Green. It was at that 
 time an awkward place. It was not only surrounded 
 by iron hurdles, but several footpaths crossed it, and 
 these were also fenced by iron hurdles, dividing it, 
 as it were, into so many sheep pens. The mob got 
 into the Green, and thought themselves safe. As 
 soon as Beckwith came, the Magistrate read the 
 Riot Act, and gave the men, I believe, one minute 
 to disperse, and as no one moved, ordered the 
 troops to act. Kit Musgrave at once set his horse 
 at the iron hurdles, ran against them, turned round, 
 and this time his horse cleared them. Of course, 
 that enclosure was emptied at once, and the horse 
 having learned the work jumped the other hurdles 
 readily. A dozen of his troopers tried the same, 
 some fell, but some got over, and as fast as men 
 could run the Green was quit. The squadron re- 
 formed, and trotted down the hill over the Draw- 
 bridge, one troop turned to the right along the 
 Quay, and then to the left into Queen's Square, the 
 other straight on along Corn Street, and then to the 
 right, so as to enter Queen Square on different 
 sides. The Square was cleared about as quickly 
 
 18
 
 258 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 as the Green, and then they broke into small 
 
 detachments, rode about the streets, dispersed any 
 
 attempts at a crowd, and the riot was at an end." 
 
 Such, nearly in his own words, was Mr. Barwick 
 
 Baker's narrative of an awful episode in Bristol 
 
 history. 
 
 One last word as to the Cathedral city close by, 
 and where the reverend Bishop, and other friends, 
 affectionate and true, are still living. When I first 
 went to Highnam as Vicar, the Chapter consisted 
 of Dean Law, and Canons Harvey, Sir John 
 Seymour, Tinling, and Evans, the Master of Pem- 
 broke. It is a pleasure to record an act of charming 
 Christian courtesy on the part of the first named. 
 Some criticisms had been passed on an unpretending 
 address of mine, one Saturday afternoon, to working 
 men in the Chapter Room of the Cathedral. The 
 exceptions taken were laid before the Dean. He 
 went into the matter, and came to the conclusion 
 that they were not warranted by the wording of the 
 address. And then, though very far indeed from 
 agreeing with me, he drove out to express his 
 kindly confidence by a call at the Vicarage. It was 
 among the last acts of his life. 
 
 Canon Harvey will long be remembered as a man 
 of dauntless energy. His industry and frugality 
 were very remarkable. When he was nearing four- 
 score years, he said to me, " I only have an egg for 
 breakfast when I have four services." He remained
 
 HIGHNAM 259 
 
 to the last hour his strength allowed him at 
 Hornsey, and only left it when the vast increase 
 of population made his withdrawal an absolute 
 necessity. 
 
 To Canon Tinling there is due a debt of 
 deepest gratitude for his untiring labours in the 
 improvement of the Cathedral Services. Like Mr. 
 Barwick Baker, he did not understand discourage- 
 ment. At first the early Celebration on each 
 Sunday and Holy day were only held in his 
 residence. But his perseverance won the field, and 
 three years later a uniform system was inaugurated. 
 He was a most interesting person. A long experi- 
 ence of an Inspector's life from the early days of 
 the Education Department had made him widely 
 acquainted with men and places. And in him there 
 was that rare thing found, that with advancing 
 years and the habits of public life, his own convic- 
 tions were never diminished in force, or his corre- 
 sponding religious activities abated. He was as 
 simply in earnest when at the head of his profession 
 as he was in its first stages. 
 
 He was at one time curate to Sydney Smith. It 
 is astonishing, by the way, how very little is 
 recorded in Bristol of Sydney Smith's association 
 with the Cathedral and city. Beyond the scanty 
 mention of his house, and the familiar episode of 
 the Toleration Sermons, Lady Holland gives us 
 nothing in his " Life." And I do not think I have
 
 260 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 heard more than a solitary anecdote besides, and 
 that a well known one. But here is a story of him 
 which I believe to be much less a piece of common 
 knowledge. It relates to the old days of Archbishop 
 Vernon Harcourt, in whose palace the Yorkshire 
 clergyman was a prized and privileged guest. A 
 gentleman who had brought letters of introduction 
 was invited to dine. It was discovered, when too 
 late, that he was a persistent bore, whose one subject 
 was entomology. He talked insects all through 
 dinner, and when the ladies left the room he made 
 his way up to his host, and began something in this 
 way. " Your Grace is doubtless aware that the 
 common house-fly has the largest ocular construc- 
 tions in proportion to its size of any other creature 
 of the class." Sydney Smith came to rescue with a 
 bold contradiction. The visitor was very angry, 
 but the audacious cleric went on to assert that he 
 was sure of his ground, and that his information 
 was based on wider reading than mere text-books. 
 And when the irritated entomologist demanded 
 what that had to do with a scientific fact, he was 
 met by the inimitable retort, " May I remind you, 
 sir, of the beautiful lines in an English poet 
 
 Who saw him die? 
 I, said the fly, 
 With my little eye." 
 
 I look back over the many years in which I had
 
 HIGHNAM 261 
 
 the advantage of Canon Tinling's friendship, and 
 recall true and unswerving kindness. He it was 
 who first invited me to preach in the Cathedral, 
 who offered me preferment when it fell to his turn, 
 and to the last occasion of our meeting was the 
 same cordial sympathiser and companion. His son, 
 George, and I were ordained together to the priest- 
 hood. The death of George Tinling, as still a 
 young man, after a long illness that followed a 
 ministry of overwork, was a great and a lasting 
 sorrow. 
 
 Canon Evans had been a hero with Oxford 
 undergraduates as a Fellow of his College. In 
 those times athletics occupied a very different 
 position indeed in the eyes of authority from that 
 which they hold to-day. And " Evans of Pem- 
 broke " was on the side of youth. A genial, loyal 
 soul loved in the University and the Cathedral 
 city alike. 
 
 It was also my happiness to enjoy the friendship 
 of his successor, Dr. Bartholomew Price. He it 
 was who first of Oxford tutors introduced the 
 custom of evening reading with his pupils. He 
 was a man of wide and solid attainments, whose 
 warmth of heart the prolonged wear and tear of 
 routine was powerless to affect. 
 
 Some time before I became Vicar of Highnam, 
 I was Canon Evans's guest under the following 
 circumstances. The Ballot Act had been passed,
 
 262 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 and the first Election petition since it had come 
 into operation was to be heard at Gloucester. By 
 the courtesy of the late Sir T. Robinson, I was 
 given a place. The Court was crowded to its last 
 inch. And a splendid legal duel was fought out to 
 the delight of the hearers between Sir Hardinge 
 Giffard (now Earl of Halsbury) on the one side, 
 and the late Serjeant Sargood on the other. I 
 witnessed a most ludicrous scene the second day 
 of the trial. The member petitioned against, and 
 who, by the way, kept his seat, wished to enter the 
 Court. A policeman on duty at the door did not 
 know him, and refused admission. Explanations 
 followed, and, solvuntur risu tabula. 
 
 Dr. Evans, the famous physician, was no relation 
 of the Canon. He was in his declining years when 
 we came to live in the neighbourhood. But I knew 
 him slightly, and will relate an anecdote he told me 
 of his student days. He was passionately fond of 
 drawing. One day Listen turned over his paper of 
 answers, and found a stag's head sketched on one 
 of the sheets. It may possibly have been furtively 
 done in lecture time, but, be that as it may, Listen 
 saw the power exhibited. He sent for the young 
 man, told him of what use such a talent might be, 
 and gave him to understand that if he would utilise 
 it in a regular and disciplined way, he would find in 
 him a friend. He had the good sense to recognise 
 his opportunity, became Listen's draughtsman and
 
 HIGH NAM 263 
 
 favourite pupil, and eventually reached an eminence 
 too well known a quarter of a century ago for any 
 words of mine to enhance. 
 
 Dr. Wesley died just before we settled at 
 Highnam. I only once saw him, namely at the 
 Hereford Festival in 1867. His quaint dress, un- 
 altered from an older style, remains clear in my 
 memory. It was said of him that he once did 
 remonstrate, and that in tears, with his pupils for 
 their noisy behaviour in the Cathedral. He stopped 
 playing, and, coming round the organ asked how 
 they could act as they were doing, when they knew 
 that he was extemporising in the key of seven flats I 
 
 Let me add one last remembrance before I close 
 this chapter. Dr. Wesley, just before his death, 
 was walking in the nave of the Cathedral listening 
 to the organ at which his own days of skilful work 
 were done. When the player ceased, he said, 
 " That is the man I would have to follow me." 
 The performer was my friend, Dr. Harford Lloyd, 
 now of Eton, and, as all the world knows, he did 
 succeed the composer of " The Wilderness " at 
 Gloucester.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 NORTH WALES 
 
 VERY many visitors to Penmaenmawr must have 
 noticed the pretty little house on the steep slope 
 over the station, with its exquisitely-kept lawn and 
 garden, called Tudor Lodge. Its owner, too, was 
 well known, and that by divers learned men who 
 came to the rapidly-growing town. The prosecu- 
 tion of some affairs connected with my grand- 
 mother's family brought me years ago into 
 association with Mr. John Atkinson, famous among 
 Welsh antiquarians, and the friendship thus begun 
 continued closely till his still recent death. 
 
 It cannot frequently be the good fortune of any- 
 one to meet with so interesting a man. His bring- 
 ing up and early life were intimately associated with 
 the coaching days at their highest point of glory, 
 and he was wont to say that so broad a line divided 
 
 English life and customs at the change to railways, 
 
 264
 
 NORTH WALES 265 
 
 that it was literally another England that began to 
 be when the old traffic vanished from the roads. 
 
 His father had been a mail contractor on a very 
 large scale, and was connected with the London and 
 Holyhead service. He came by his death at a 
 comparatively early age in a very sudden and 
 strange way. A travelling acrobat was exhibiting 
 his feats to a number of spectators, of whom the 
 elder Mr. Atkinson was one. The man had per- 
 formed a jump, which seemed to my friend's father 
 a somewhat inferior performance. He bade one of 
 his men bring a board, which he placed in position 
 for a spring, and then proceeded to "take off." 
 Unhappily, in some way he slipped, and sustained 
 such serious injuries as speedily cost him his life. 
 His son was but nineteen years old. The Post 
 Office, however, asked no questions, and so at that 
 early age he took on the Government contract. 
 
 Mr. Atkinson, therefore, had been familiar with 
 the whole north-western road before a yard of rail 
 was laid. The mail service was brought to an 
 almost incredible perfection at that period. I cannot 
 profess to give the time of the Holyhead coach with 
 absolute accuracy, but I know I am very near the 
 truth when I say that 267 miles were accomplished 
 in twenty-six hours and seventeen minutes, includ- 
 ing all stoppages. And this, as he used to say, for 
 a journey that led them through the Black Country. 
 He might, I think, have fairly added, the Snowdon
 
 266 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 stages also. The punctuality was simply marvellous, 
 and was in great measure due to the phenomenal 
 rapidity of the changes. When the bugle was 
 heard, four helpers ran out the four fresh horses, 
 while four others were in readiness to unharness the 
 team when it pulled up. In this way the change 
 was got over in forty-five seconds. So exact was 
 the punctuality observed, that the country folk used 
 to set their watches by the mail. My old friend 
 was well known as a whip. This was, of course, 
 long before I became acquainted with him, and 
 before a suffering internal complaint had laid its 
 hand on his powerful frame. To the last he always 
 appended to his signature a loop, representing a 
 four-in-hand whip " caught-up." His writing, I 
 may remark, was of the fine copper-plate character 
 that has vanished with the men of a previous 
 generation. In the fulness of his strength Mr. 
 Atkinson had driven marvellous distances. It had 
 seemed then as though he were equal to any 
 demand. But one day when he spoke of some feat 
 he had performed while the coaches still held their 
 own, a person present expressed a doubt as to his 
 statement. After that he could not be induced to 
 refer to the subject again. 
 
 As the London and Birmingham line pushed out 
 further from the metropolis, of course the coach 
 journey was correspondingly shortened. But at the 
 very first, I understood from him, the coaches were
 
 NORTH WALES 267 
 
 duly packed, and run out on trucks to the limit of 
 the line, then, of course, a near one. 
 
 It was a great day for the North Wales farmers 
 when, in the late forties, the whole length of the line 
 was open. Mr. Atkinson took up the first batch of 
 cattle (his own) from Carnarvonshire to Chalk Farm 
 Station. Just before starting he received an urgent 
 message from a neighbour asking him to oblige by 
 taking his cattle also. Now, Mr. Atkinson was a 
 stockmaster who bestowed the greatest care and 
 attention on his beasts, and they were in splendid 
 condition. By the way, he travelled with them 
 himself on that first journey to the London markets. 
 We may judge, therefore, of his extreme annoyance 
 when he found that he had been completely "let in," 
 and that a most indifferent consignment was left on 
 his hands. However, there was no help for it, and 
 the cattle train duly started. The destination was 
 reached in the early hours of a Sunday morning, a 
 four-wheel cab was fortunately found, and, from old 
 habit's force, I suppose, our friend went off to an 
 inn in the city to get some rest. In the evening he 
 was refreshed, and went out with the intention of 
 attending some place of worship. As he passed 
 along a street, his ear was caught by the sound of 
 some singing, and entering the building whence it 
 came, he found, strange to say, not only a Welsh 
 service in progress, but, stranger still, the pulpit 
 occupied by the very man who had done him over
 
 268 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 the cattle journey ! I cannot say whether our 
 friend heard the sermon out or not. 
 
 Before I finally quit the subject of coaches, it will 
 be interesting to insert the recollections of a friend, 
 who has already been quoted in these pages, that 
 typical English gentleman, Mr. W. B. Fortescue, 
 with regard to the celebrated "Telegraph" that 
 ran between Exeter and London, performing the 
 journey in seventeen hours, and even less at the 
 last. 
 
 He arrived by the much slower vehicle that plied 
 between Dartmouth and Exeter, having arranged 
 to sleep at the latter place, and proceed to town in 
 the morning. His uncle, who resided in the 
 Cathedral city, sought to dissuade him from so 
 hazardous a manner of travelling, but in vain. My 
 friend put up at the famous hostelry, the New 
 London Inn, and having dined went out into the 
 street for a stroll. Noticing that a number of people 
 were all going in one direction, he followed them, 
 and found himself with a little crowd opposite the 
 inn where the " Telegraph " stopped. Presently 
 the chimes went out, and the great bell of the 
 Cathedral had struck the final note of ten o'clock, 
 when the guard's bugle was heard, and before the 
 full - number was sounded, the coach was to the 
 actual minute standing at the door ! 
 
 The following day, on the up-journey, a very 
 amusing episode occurred. It was the pride of the
 
 NORTH WALES 269 
 
 coachmen that the up and down coaches should 
 meet at a particular spot, a half-way house. On 
 reaching the stage in which this was timed to take 
 place, there was, through some casualty, no proper 
 change ready. All that could be had was four post- 
 horses with their postilions. There was no help for 
 it, and with this sorry substitute they started, the 
 coachman retaining his place, though deprived for 
 the nonce of his office. On reaching the brow of 
 the hill, at the foot of which was the point of meet- 
 ing, the down " Telegraph " was descried be- 
 ginning the descent on the opposite side. In vain 
 the coachman adjured the riders to quicken their 
 speed. The situation with a coach behind them 
 was a novel one, and they had not sufficient nerve 
 for the spurt. So, failing to produce any effect by 
 verbal remonstrance, the coachman, jealous for his 
 reputation, had recourse to his whip, which he plied 
 to so much purpose that, willy-nilly, the "boys" 
 moved on, and the time was thus narrowly kept. 
 
 Once, he told me, he had occasion to take the 
 "Quicksilver" at Kew Bridge. He waited at the 
 inn, where he learned from the ostler that he must 
 be alert as the mail was near. Presently he caught 
 the sound of the bugle, and went out. " Can you 
 run up the back stairs, sir ? They won't stop," said 
 the man. " I will throw your bag on to the roof." 
 Then the coach came in sight. The small amount 
 of personal belongings allowed was safely deposited
 
 270 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 and Mr. Fortescue swung himself up at the back. 
 "You see, sir," the guard explained, "we can't 
 stop, for we must keep the lead." And so indeed 
 they did. 
 
 Another time he and his brother-in-law, Sir 
 Walter Carew, were going to London by the 
 "Telegraph." It left Exeter at 5 a.m., so they went 
 as far as Ilminster over-night and slept there, to 
 avoid such an early start. True to time the coach 
 drew up at their inn ; Ward was driving, and at 
 once handed the reins to Sir Walter. It was a 
 four-mile stage, and four thoroughbred chestnuts 
 were put in, and at once laid themselves out for a 
 gallop. Ward sat by Sir Walter, and Mr. 
 Fortescue stood behind them, watch in hand 
 Hext, the guard, also taking careful note of the 
 time. A Devonshire farmer who was next Mr. 
 Fortescue was so terrified at the pace that he 
 clutched tightly at his neighbour's arm, and at last 
 amid the clatter and the excitement managed to 
 make an inquiry heard, " Can he drive ? " For 
 sole reply Mr. Fortescue shouted back, " Doesn't 
 he go fast enough for you ? " The stage was done 
 and the watches reported 1 5 minutes ! On 
 reaching town my informant found himself sore and 
 stiff from the grip of his alarmed companion. 
 
 The next day Ward tried to beat Sir Walter's 
 record, but, alas ! a leader fell and broke his leg. 
 
 On such coaches as the "Quicksilver" and the
 
 NORTH WALES 271 
 
 "Telegraph," there were lamps of extraordinary 
 power. The brilliance as the coach flew by did 
 much to avert accidents that might otherwise have 
 easily occurred. 
 
 My readers may well wonder how amidst the 
 bustle of his life Mr. Atkinson continued to keep 
 up his studies in antiquarian and other depart- 
 ments. The " cognate languages " were a subject 
 to which he gave a great deal of attention. The 
 answer is, that like some others, he was able to 
 
 I work on an amount of sleep that would be fatally 
 insufficient to the vast majority of men. " I used 
 to steal the night," he said to me once. It is a 
 frightfully dangerous experiment for any but a 
 tiny exception. The result may be predicted with 
 sufficient certainty disaster and death. 
 
 But there are here and there a few men who can 
 dispense with the usual portion of sleep. Such a 
 person was my very kind friend and connection by 
 marriage, the late Lord Ludlow, in whom we lost 
 a sound judge, and a cultivated country gentleman. 
 He was by build a very powerful man, and by 
 habit inured to very late hours. One thing in his 
 opinion kept him going, and that was his early ride 
 at 8 a.m., which he never failed to take. During 
 the pressure of his working life, he told me he 
 hardly ever had three consecutive hours of sleep. 
 He would wake up, and find it no easy matter to 
 doze off again.
 
 272 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 Once, after a late division or rather an early 
 one, in the small hours he came home to his 
 house, passed in by his latch-key, and seeing two 
 or three letters on the hall- table, just glanced at 
 their contents, letting the envelopes drop, and then 
 sought his bed, where he immediately fell into a 
 first slumber. Alas ! too short a one. For he 
 found himself the centre of no less than three 
 " bullseyes." He had inadvertently left the front 
 door open, and the vigilant guardians of the peace 
 had followed to see if all was as it should be. "It's 
 all right, Mr. Lopes," reassuringly said the visitors. 
 "How on earth do you know who I am?" he 
 replied. " Well, sir, if a gentleman leaves his 
 letters in the hall, we are not far wrong," rejoined 
 the policeman. And after all it did not need a 
 Sherlock Holmes to arrive at the conclusion. 
 
 The late Serjeant Merewether told me that in 
 the railway mania of 1847, on the Monday of the 
 last week allowed for the deposit of schemes, he 
 left his bedroom not again to enter it, except for 
 washing and changing his clothes, till the Saturday. 
 He then retired to rest in the course of the after- 
 noon, giving directions that he was not to be dis- 
 turbed. He slept till the Sunday evening, and 
 this prolonged slumber probably saved him from 
 some very grave results of such a sustained tension. 
 He had a happy faculty of snatching a brief repose 
 in the course of business, where he saw a chance.
 
 NORTH WALES 273 
 
 He would tell his clerk to waken him in ten 
 minutes time, and instantly fall asleep. It was his 
 custom to stay up until all his work was done, and 
 then rest till the latest possible moment in the 
 morning, and he used to contend that this plan was 
 far better than that adopted by his cotemporary, 
 Serjeant Wraugham, who rose at a very early hour 
 to prepare for going into court. 
 
 But to return to our North Wales friend. Some- 
 times when the pressure was very severe, he would, 
 after paying his men on a Saturday afternoon, ride 
 away into the heart of the mountains, and secure a 
 few hours of solitude amid the grand silence of the 
 everlasting hills, which never failed to refresh him. 
 But he always returned in time to conduct a 
 practice of Church Psalmody in view of the next 
 day's services and this, I believe, at whatever 
 distance some Saturday night might find him from 
 home. Later on, and under different circum- 
 stances, the same devotion was shown by the heir 
 of Margam Abbey, who was wont to travel from 
 London to South Wales with unvarying regularity 
 every week in the Parliamentary Session for the 
 purpose of meeting his choir. 
 
 Prominent among the alterations effected by the 
 introduction of railways was the change in the 
 old-fashioned inns. Many of them were exceed- 
 ingly comfortable, and the charges were much 
 lower than those which now obtain. Of course, 
 
 19
 
 274 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 a menu (one cannot fancy the word having any- 
 thing to do with an old-world caravanserai) of those 
 days would not suit the taste of modern folk. But 
 the fare was excellent and plentiful. I once asked 
 Mr. Atkinson how it came to be that in many a 
 small place such good port could be obtained in the 
 past generation. He told me that there were 
 many dinner-clubs in the country-sides and lesser 
 towns. The members used to import their own 
 wine and bottle it. And when a club broke up, as 
 in time they did, the wine was purchased and 
 dispersed among the neighbouring houses of enter- 
 tainment. 
 
 And talking of inns, here are two anecdotes of 
 his, highly characteristic of the times. 
 
 Towards the close of the coaching epoch, the 
 sub-contract for a certain stage on the north- 
 western road, in the Welsh section, came to its end. 
 And there was great difficulty in renewing it for 
 two reasons one very obvious, the other very 
 strange. The existing contractor could not renew. 
 She was a married woman, and some legal diffi- 
 culty had arisen as to her status, which disqualified 
 her from undertaking the charge. It might have 
 seemed an easy course for the husband to have 
 signed the agreement for his wife, who was landlady 
 of a well-known inn on the road. But this was 
 equally out of the question. He was a clerk in 
 Holy Orders vicar of the parish ! Poor Welsh
 
 NORTH WALES 275 
 
 Church, who shall be surprised at her troubles, 
 since then so nobly combatted ? 
 
 One Christmas-time the mail arrived at a famous 
 coaching house in North Wales, and deposited a 
 single visitor. He was a Member of Parliament, 
 who represented an Irish constituency, and on his 
 way to London. But being indisposed he alighted, 
 instead of continuing the long journey. After a 
 while, feeling much better, he ordered his dinner 
 for the evening. Now, it was a very slack time, 
 no company had been expected, and the conse- 
 quence was that the usually well-stocked larder 
 contained a single joint and no more. So the 
 matter was arranged, and all seemed clear. Un- 
 fortunately, later in the day, some foxhunters put 
 in an appearance and demanded to dine. The 
 waiter explained with profound regret that their 
 wish could not be complied with, as the only avail- 
 able provision was already bespoken. His apology 
 was in vain ; the head of the party, a neighbouring 
 magnate, asserting his intention of annexing the 
 joint, and told the unhappy attendant to explain to 
 the visitor the best way he could. Not content 
 with having left the stranger dinnerless, the 
 blustering Nimrod added insult to injury by 
 sending up his gold watch and appendages by 
 the waiter to his room, with an instruction to 
 inquire (in the current slang of the day) if he knew 
 what o'clock it was. The unknown gentleman, on
 
 276 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 receiving the message, bade the waiter return to 
 the diners, and say that he would come presently 
 and tell them himself. Only waiting to go into his 
 bedroom and fetch a small case from his port- 
 manteau, he proceeded to the dinner party, care- 
 fully concealing the case under his coat, but carry- 
 ing the gold watch in his open hand. His 
 appearance was the signal for a boisterous shout 
 of laughter. When it had subsided, he said very 
 quietly : " Gentlemen, you were polite enough to 
 ask me if I had the right time. I come to 
 answer you myself." Then placing the case on the 
 
 table, he went on, " My name is I have not 
 
 the pleasure of your acquaintance." An ominous 
 silence followed this intimation, for there was not a 
 man in the room that did not recognise the name 
 as that of an M.P. who had more than once " had 
 his man out," and whose reputation as a shot was 
 of the greatest. He then approached the chair- 
 man and, tendering him the watch, politely asked 
 him if it was his ? " Certainly not, sir," was the 
 reply, though his pocket had but so lately parted 
 with its valuable contents. The visitor apologised 
 and inquired of the next man, and so of each in 
 turn. All eagerly repudiated any idea of owner- 
 ship, and then the visitor, expressing his great 
 regret for having troubled them through a mis- 
 apprehension, departed with the watch, having 
 read the jokers, it is to be hoped, however much
 
 NORTH WALES 277 
 
 we may regret the pistols, a lesson in good 
 manners. 
 
 But Mr. Atkinson's stories were not by any 
 means limited to coaches. And with a last quo- 
 tation from this genial man's repertoire I must 
 bring my recollections of him to a close. 
 
 During the earlier days of the Church revival a 
 certain dignitary of Bangor took, in union with a 
 lay friend, a strong part in getting rid of the old 
 clumsy, exclusive, and unseemly pews, and substi- 
 tuting, where possible, the open seats which have 
 long ago become universal. At some point, how- 
 ever, in the enterprise the layman abandoned the 
 cause. When next he met his quondam ally, he 
 was received with two emphatic words from a 
 tongue that was always ready and occasionally 
 caustic. They were simply, " Proh pudor ! " The 
 un-forced wit of the rebuke is delightful. 
 
 Once, on a journey into North Wales, I put up 
 at a hotel In Chester, which happened to be very 
 full. I was asked if I minded two people coming 
 to my table in the coffee-room, as the place was so 
 crowded, and of course I agreed. They were cer- 
 tainly wealthy. Their dinner was on a very 
 different scale from my own, and when their bill 
 was given them the next day, although there was a 
 mistake in it to an amount which few of us would 
 care to lose, they would not cross the hall to the 
 office in order to get it put right. In the course of
 
 278 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 the meal we talked of the singularly beautiful sur- 
 roundings, and I unfortunately asked if they had 
 identified the place on the walls where John Ingle- 
 sant looked his last over the Flintshire hills. I 
 say unfortunately, for I was met by a blank silence. 
 The lady evidently had never heard of John 
 Inglesant, but her husband made an heroic effort 
 to save the situation. " Oh yes," he said, " I 
 know Ingoldsby ! " Truly, money has its obvious 
 limits.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 BRISTOL 
 
 BRISTOL has always, for many years, loomed large 
 in my life. Devonshire born and bred, whenever 
 (to use our Western phrase) we went "up the 
 country " we were bound to pass through Bristol. 
 Young folks who have only known the present vast 
 structure comprising two great systems under a 
 single roof, would find it hard to realise the railway 
 stations (I use the plural purposely) of my child- 
 hood. The original Great Western Railway station 
 was, I believe, the substantial stone building adjoin- 
 ing what is now called Clock Tower Yard. I know, 
 at least, that in a very handsome and, I should 
 think, now a very rare volume, containing a finely 
 illustrated account of the line from Paddington to 
 Bristol, this is shown as the terminus. The date in- 
 dicated by the book would be about 1 842. But when 
 I first travelled as far as the great city of the West, 
 this station was used chiefly by the West Midland 
 
 279"
 
 280 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 line, as it was then called, which connected Bristol 
 and Gloucester. The section of railway below 
 Bristol was called the Bristol and Exeter, and as 
 in the case of, I think, every other station on that 
 now long absorbed system, the only accommodation 
 was of wood. This structure stood at right angles 
 to the other station, and occupied the site where the 
 booking offices are now situated. So when the 
 train from London arrived, it backed into the 
 station to deposit Bristol passengers. There was 
 a sort of curve on the further side of this timber 
 edifice, which was called the " Express platform," 
 and from this the through up-trains, at any rate, 
 were despatched. This would have corresponded 
 very nearly with the corner where the station- 
 master's office now is. And then, to compare the 
 motley array of carriages that made up the express 
 with the splendid " bogies " that have taken their 
 place ! There were Great Western coaches and 
 Bristol and Exeter coaches with their picturesque 
 blue blinds, and South Devon into the bargain, and, 
 in addition, at the very end of the fifties, Cornwall 
 railway coaches also. 
 
 Now let my readers try to picture a journey from 
 Devonshire to the North. On arriving at the 
 Bristol and Exeter station, and seeing your luggage 
 taken out, the next step was to cross to the West 
 Midland. There was no bridge, and the transit had 
 to be effected over the metals, and in front of the
 
 BRISTOL 281 
 
 Gloucester engine, hissing its fiercest. Never shall 
 I forget my first experience of it as a small boy. 
 Our nurse conducted my sister and myself over the 
 seemingly perilous way. This was quite bad 
 enough for us children, but what the superadded 
 care of the luggage must have been, of course I 
 know nothing. On arriving at Gloucester every- 
 thing had to be changed again. The West Midland 
 at that time was broad gauge, like the G.W.R. 
 There was a break of gauge, of course, at Glou- 
 cester, and an old number of the Illustrated London 
 News in my possession aptly delineates the unspeak- 
 able confusion of the transfer. 
 
 There used to be some painted panels in the old, 
 or West Midland station. To my small mind these 
 were awe-inspiring productions, and the impression 
 made by them has never failed. We had always 
 heard wonderful things of St. Mary Redcliffe 
 Church, and on arriving by train, and being at 
 once confronted with such wonders in colour, I 
 immediately associated the two, and thought that 
 Bristol was mysterious and ecclesiastical. 
 
 The moment I became Curate of Badminton I 
 was officially connected with Bristol. For my 
 licence took in two churches, and one of these was 
 in Bristol, as the other was in Gloucester diocese. 
 So I came under the jurisdiction of two Arch- 
 deacons, and thus made the acquaintance of Mr. 
 Thorpe. Odd enough it seems to us now that the
 
 282 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 rector of a parish near Tewkesbury should be Arch- 
 deacon of Bristol, but so it was. Those who were 
 present at what I think must have been almost the 
 last of his visitations in Chipping Sodbury Church 
 may recall his action in defending the holy and 
 laborious vicar from aspersions in respect of the 
 work of restoration he had nearly accomplished. 
 He invited the attention of his audience to a " post- 
 reformation rubric," laying great stress on the pre- 
 position, and then turning solemnly round Eastwards, 
 he indicated the seemly surroundings of the sanctuary, 
 adding emphatically, " Chancels shall remain as 
 they have done in times past." At an earlier date 
 I remember a curious scene in the church. The 
 names of the clergy were called over, and there 
 being no response to that of the incumbent of a 
 very small parish who was much given to travelling 
 far, a voice from the congregation replied in loud 
 and well-meant explanatory terms, " He's off, 
 sir!" 
 
 Another clerical figure long remembered was 
 Canon Barrow. In his days as a city incumbent, 
 Bishop Woodford of Ely had served his first curacy 
 on his nomination. Together they resolved to 
 travel to Leeds, then famous for its newly rebuilt 
 parish church (1841), and also to as many Cathe- 
 drals as they could accomplish for their limited 
 resources. They travelled third class, of course 
 though (as I have already had occasion to remark)
 
 BRISTOL 283 
 
 to do so in those days meant a huge measure of 
 discomfort. And, in Barrow's words, they " ate 
 bread and smelled the soup." I am afraid to say 
 how much they managed to see for their money. 
 It was, I know, an object-lesson in frugality. 
 
 Woodford became the first Vicar of St. Mark's, 
 Easton, then separated from Bristol by a full mile 
 of market gardens and the like. He then moved 
 on to St. Saviour's, Coalpit Heath. There he took 
 pupils. One day the father of a lad under his care 
 came to visit his son and his tutor. He alighted at 
 Yate Station, and as he could get no sort of fly, he 
 chartered a rustic who hailed from the new district 
 to carry his bag and show him the way. As they 
 walked along together he thought it a good oppor- 
 tunity to hear something of the man to whose care 
 he had confided his son. So he put some questions, 
 which to his horror were met with the reply, " They 
 be Roman Catholics at Coalpit Heath." But he 
 was reassured before long, for on pressing for an 
 explanation the yokel went on to say, "It be all 
 praying (daily service had, of course, been begun) 
 and cricketing (this was the pupils' doings), but we 
 likes it, however." 
 
 Woodford's terror of horses must have been 
 largely based on a total ignorance, for the story 
 goes that when as Bishop he was compelled to 
 begin a stable, he informed a friend that he 
 had been advised to buy a horse sixteen feet high.
 
 284 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 It would be most ungrateful and wrong to let 
 this passing notice go by without adding a word of 
 remembrance of much kindness received from Dr. 
 Woodford, and of full appreciation of his admir- 
 able Episcopate. One of his old Leeds curates 
 used to say that, whenever you went to the Vicar 
 to ask a question, he had always the answer ready 
 for you. 
 
 Though I knew and greatly respected Arch- 
 deacon Randall, it was with his successor, John 
 Pilkington Norris, that I had most to do. To say 
 that Norris was a good man seems to be a mere 
 trite truism. He was one of the most eminently 
 good and unselfish men I have ever known. He 
 was a fellow of Trinity at the time of his ordination 
 to the Diaconate, and returning from Ely, he deter- 
 mined to forsake his comfortable rooms in College, 
 and to go forth into lodgings and to work as a 
 curate in the town. This was the beginning of 
 that life of unsparing toil in which so much was 
 done for the glory of God and the good of his 
 fellow-men. 
 
 To him are due two of the greatest facts in the 
 lives of Bristol Churchmen and citizens to-day the 
 restored Bishopric, and the nave of the Cathedral. 
 His old friend Canon Mosely had once spoken with 
 him under the western side of the central tower, and 
 told him how that, in days that were past, a nave 
 had once opened out thence. There was no sort of
 
 BRISTOL 285 
 
 idea then that N orris would himself become a 
 member of the Chapter, but within a short time 
 this came to pass. It was his earnest remonstrance 
 that hindered the alienation of the ground where 
 Street's fine work now stands, and it was due 
 altogether to his initiative, in conjunction with a 
 layman of unbounded energy and sterling Church 
 principles, Mr. W. K. Wait, that the glorious 
 enterprise was carried through. The western 
 towers are to be credited to the late Dean, under 
 whose auspices the building was thus completed, 
 the generosity of certain donors making it possible 
 to be done. 
 
 It has now for some years been made known that 
 Norris was the unnamed giver of ; 10,000 towards 
 the re-endowment of the See of Bristol. What 
 years of patient and unceasing labour were bestowed 
 on that noble scheme, those who watched and won- 
 dered alone can tell. He just lived to see the 
 Cathedral more largely used. It was not till nearly 
 six years after he was taken home that a Bishop of 
 the re-constituted Diocese was installed in that 
 Cathedral Choir. 
 
 Our last meeting was at the Palace at Gloucester, 
 where we were both engaged with the annual 
 gathering of Archdeacons and Rural Deans. It 
 was little more than three months before his death. 
 He asked me to join him in a walk after the 
 Cathedral service, and it was in that final conversa-
 
 286 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 tion that I heard the account of his ascending 
 Salisbury spire. He carried through this perilous 
 adventure quite alone. I shall never lose the 
 impression made by his description of the passage 
 from the interior, when the long and steep ladders 
 came to an end, through the weather door, out on 
 to the northern face of the spire, hanging between 
 the sky and the earth. From thence to the summit 
 the ascent is made by means of iron cramps or rings 
 fastened into the stone. That same evening he 
 spoke to me of his early remembrances of Archbishop 
 Temple. The future Primate was at one time in 
 charge of Kneller Hall, an institution for the train- 
 ing of schoolmasters. When Norris arrived on his 
 first visit to his friend, he found him, at the head of 
 a digging party, engaged in vigorous garden opera- 
 tions. And one remembers how, in the life of 
 Archbishop Benson, we are told he inaugurated a 
 game of leap-frog to relieve the awkwardness of the 
 assembling of the first draft of pupils at Wellington 
 College. While speaking of famous headmasters, I 
 may mention an incident that took place long ago 
 at Durham in the days of a great scholar, Dr. 
 Edward Elder. A prize was offered for some 
 composition, and to ensure fairness in the award 
 mottoes only were to be appended. I think we 
 shall agree that the boy who selected " roSe /uot 
 Kpfavov 'E.tAStup " deserved the said prize, and I 
 think that he was successful.
 
 BRISTOL 287 
 
 A great many years have gone by since, on the 
 invitation of Canon Wade, I first preached in 
 Bristol Cathedral. He had done for a long while 
 an excellent work in London when he received the 
 appointment to his stall. It was at St. Anne's, 
 Soho, that the Passion music was first heard in one 
 of our churches. He told me once how very 
 narrowly an awkward contretemps was avoided in 
 his parish. The facts were these : The Bishop of 
 London (Tait) had undertaken to address a con- 
 gregation of men at St. Anne's. The hour came, 
 and the congregation, but there was no sign of the 
 preacher. The Vicar felt certain that there was 
 some mistake somewhere, and sent off a curate in a 
 hansom, with all possible despatch, to inquire at 
 London House in St. James's Square. Meanwhile 
 he went into the church and commenced the service 
 in the doubtful hope that things might come right 
 in the end. Before the conclusion of the Litany 
 and hymns which formed the special arrangement 
 for the occasion, to his immense relief he saw the 
 Diocesan pass within the altar rails. The curate, 
 on arriving at St. James's Square, was admitted to 
 the hall at the very moment that the party in the 
 house were entering the dining-room. A servant 
 gave his message to the Bishop, from whose memory 
 the appointment had wholly slipped away. He 
 immediately left the table, hurried some robes into 
 a bag, and departed in the cab, which had been
 
 288 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 detained at the door. Thus the situation was saved, 
 and what would have been a very awkward business 
 happily averted. 
 
 In the days of my early clerical association with 
 Bristol I was told of a strange incident connected 
 with a church then lying well outside the city, but 
 now connected by almost interminable streets and 
 houses I mean Horfield. This church was one 
 of the very few, by the way, where Dr. Pusey was 
 invited to preach, and there sometimes of an after- 
 noon he was to he seen and heard, habited in his 
 academical gown. But the preacher with whom 
 my story is concerned was a very different man 
 Mr. Edward Walford, widely known as a compiler 
 of books of reference. In those days he was a 
 priest of the English Church, and as such had 
 taken duty at Horfield. Long afterwards he wrote 
 to the Rev. H. H. Hardy, who was then Rector, to 
 say that he had left a Bible in the pulpit on the last 
 occasion of his officiating, and he asked, as a sort of 
 desperate chance, whether it could be found. And 
 oddly enough, after so long an interval, it was 
 found, and that too in the pulpit. The incident 
 certainly spoke volumes for the strict carefulness of 
 every one who had to do with the church. 
 
 It would have been more in accordance, both 
 chronologically and topographically, if I had men- 
 tioned Sir George Prevost in an earlier chapter. 
 But the subject has been left over for these
 
 BRISTOL 289 
 
 concluding paragraphs, and so far fitly, as it was 
 from Bristol my last visit to Stinchcombe was 
 made. The Archdeacon and I went over for the 
 Feast-Sunday, to preach the two sermons for our 
 venerable friend. He died not long afterwards, at 
 the ripe age of eighty-eight years. He had been 
 from the first associated with the leaders of the 
 Oxford movement, and was part author of Tract 84 
 on the subject of " Daily Services in Church." 
 He told me, in an early stage of a friendship to 
 which I refer with every expression of gratitude and 
 deep respect, that the custom had been maintained 
 by him, certainly from the thirties, and I am not 
 clear whether it was not even from 1829. Lady 
 Prevost was a sister of Isaac Williams, the 
 theologian and poet, who settled at Stinchcombe in 
 a house adjoining that of his brother-in-law. He 
 was on terms of intimacy with Bishop Wilberforce 
 (who snatched time from his hurried life to visit him) 
 and with Mr. Gladstone. One day, when I was 
 with him, he read me a letter which he had received 
 from the great statesman, and the music of one 
 sentence in it has haunted me ever since. " I long 
 to interpose a space," he wrote, " between the arena 
 and the grave." Assuredly I have seen no sight 
 more beautiful than that of the aged and humble 
 man of heart sitting as the simplest learner in a 
 retreat held by the present Bishop of Lincoln, then 
 Professor of Pastoral Theology. There was a 
 
 20
 
 290 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 delightful custom in his home of the whole house- 
 hold morning and evening repeating together the 
 Apostles' Creed at family prayers. It reminds one 
 of how, in Charles Kingsley's noble story, Amyas 
 Leigh, the sturdy sea-giant, did the like, in the days 
 when Elizabeth was Queen. We may be sure that 
 this touch of the accomplished writer is in strict 
 historical accuracy. 
 
 I am indebted to a very dear old friend for the 
 following anecdotes : "I remember Sir George 
 telling how in some bad time, when he had dis- 
 tributed rice to his poor people, he had asked a 
 man if he found rice good, and received the reply, 
 ' Well, Sir George, I can't say as I be wrapped up 
 in rice' And this answer to a visitation question, 
 * Is your Vicar of good life and conversation ? ' ' He 
 leads a good life, but has not much conversation 
 about him.' ' 
 
 Sir George lived not far from Berkeley Castle, 
 by whose occupants, the late Lord and Lady Fitz- 
 hardinge, he was greatly regarded. In the castle 
 there is a private chapel, where matins are daily 
 said by the chaplain. It was a charming survival 
 of old times before our fathers' days to see the two 
 stately hounds accompanying their master to service, 
 and remain in well-ordered stillness by his chair. 
 There never were kindlier hosts than the owners of 
 Berkeley. One night, when I had come as a guest, 
 Lord Fitzhardinge with his usual courtesy con-
 
 BRISTOL 291 
 
 ducted me to my room, which was in the ancient 
 part of the building. I think I was the only 
 occupant of that particular portion of the castle, 
 and so when he bade me good-night, I was well 
 out of the reach of my fellows. I had slept for 
 some time when I was awakened by a noise, and a 
 door on the further side slowly opened of its own 
 motion! It was sufficiently disconcerting, and I 
 wonder that I was not a great deal more alarmed 
 than I was. The reason, however, was clear 
 enough. It was a blowing autumnal night, and 
 the wind gathering in the narrow passage had 
 forced the door open. Perhaps some such atmo- 
 spherical causes might have accounted for the 
 strange sounds and sights alluded to at Babba- 
 combe in the first chapter of "Times that are 
 New," had we not some reason to believe that 
 other agencies than these were employed. 
 
 I have been led into this digression, but while 
 speaking of Sir George Prevost the mention of one 
 connected closely with Bristol, and who has but 
 recently passed away, could claim no more fitting 
 place. Mrs. Cornish was the last survivor, so far 
 as my knowledge goes, of the body with which the 
 late Archdeacon (some years her senior) was so 
 intimately connected. 
 
 On a day of late summer in the beautiful church- 
 yard of St. Mary, Walton, 
 
 " By the pleasant shore, 
 And in the hearing of the wave,"
 
 292 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 was laid to its last rest all that was mortal of 
 Eleanor Cornish. Many hearts in Bristol went 
 out, at the news of her death, to the Bishop-son 
 in his distant diocese of Grahamstown who loved 
 her so fondly, and who quitted her in her declining 
 days only at the call of supreme duty. 
 
 Mrs. Cornish was the daughter of Dr. Thomas 
 Monro of Harley Street, and thus a member of a 
 family long and honourably connected with the 
 medical profession. But the name of her brother, 
 Edward Monro, the famous allegorist, will be more 
 widely recognised than any other, however dis- 
 tinguished, among her immediate relations. 
 
 By her marriage Eleanor Monro became inti- 
 mately associated with that remarkable group of 
 men at Oxford, by whose unceasing labours and 
 saintly lives our Mother Church was awakened to a 
 new life in the realising of her old principles. It 
 was no noveltv that men like Charles Cornish and 
 
 * 
 
 his friend Charles Marriott taught. Their appeal 
 was to the primitive in teaching, as their example 
 made consistently for holiness in living. The 
 religion of the Oxford leaders was deep-set, 
 sober, and most eminently unostentatious. The 
 high tradition of the school was maintained un- 
 broken by the old and valued friend now taken 
 from our midst. To the end she was a diligent 
 student of sound theology, the dominating interest 
 of her long life was the cause of the truth and 
 Church of Christ.
 
 BRISTOL 293 
 
 It was when the catastrophe came, and the voice 
 that for memorable years in St. Mary's had won 
 and enchanted men as never perhaps before or 
 since had ceased to be heard, when men's hearts 
 were sad within them, when dismay and perplexity 
 were on every side, and here and there counsels of 
 despair began ominously to be heard, that the 
 splendid loyalty of John Keble, Edward Pusey, 
 and those that rallied round them became abun- 
 dantly evident. Amongst them, and carried by 
 the course of events into a prominent position, 
 were Charles Cornish and his wife. To him was 
 assigned the tremendous responsibility of taking up 
 the work at Littlemore which the loved leader had 
 relinquished, and there in 1846 the Cornishes 
 repaired. The following year saw the publication 
 in the Library of the Fathers, of "Seventeen 
 Shorter Treatises of St. Augustine," one of the 
 two translators being Charles Cornish. 
 
 Thus his wife had been in the very focus of the 
 Church revival of our modern history. She had 
 known intimately the men who made the centre 
 of the century for ever famous, she had fully reaped 
 the successes, as she had borne the Chocks and dis- 
 appointments of the movement. Eleanor Cornish 
 was almost, if not quite, as I have said, the last of 
 the group to linger on. In some sort she was truly 
 an historical personage. Her friendship the writer, 
 in common with many others, will ever reckon to
 
 294 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 be an honour. Her place among those who have 
 
 known her will never be filled again. 
 
 The mention of her son as a South African Bishop 
 will lend a special interest to the following facts. I 
 possess some franks of the Bishops of Bristol, before 
 the union of the see with Gloucester. One of them 
 was issued by the noble Bishop Gray, father of a 
 noble son, the late Bishop of Capetown. In the 
 Minor Canons' vestry, which was formerly the 
 Bishop's entry, is a very interesting model of the 
 Palace destroyed in 1831. On it is the following 
 inscription : 
 
 "The Bishop behaved manfully, the mob were 
 masters of the city, and one of the Minor Canons 
 waited upon him before the hour of service, and 
 represented to him the propriety of postponing it. 
 ' My young friend,' said the Bishop with great good 
 nature, laying his hand upon his shoulder as he 
 spoke, ' there are times in which it is necessary not 
 to shirk danger ; our duty is to be at our post.' 
 The service accordingly was performed as usual, 
 and he himself preached. Before evening closed 
 his palace was burnt to the ground, and the loss 
 which he sustained (besides that of his papers) is 
 estimated at .10,000." (" Southey's Life and Cor- 
 respondence," vol. vi. p. 167.) 
 
 From grave to gay, and I have done. There is 
 a hospitable institution in Bristol, to which, by the 
 kind courtesy of a trustee, I have been admitted as
 
 BRISTOL 295 
 
 a guest. Dr. White, the founder of Sion College, 
 had a house in Temple Street, and there every St. 
 Thomas's Day a dinner is given, according to the 
 provisions of his will. It is served on pewter in a 
 delightful old panelled room, and consists of pork 
 cooked in five different ways, roasted veal, and half 
 a baron of beef. These substantial viands are 
 followed by a magnificent pie, in which are exactly 
 ninety-nine apples and one quince or pear, I am 
 not quite sure which it is. The meal is concluded 
 with toasted cheese ; and it is certainly the fault 
 of those entertained if they have not had enough 
 to eat. After dinner the ample remains of the 
 feast are carried down to the occupants of the 
 almshouses which Dr. White's generosity founded, 
 and the old people enjoy a meal of unusual excel- 
 lence. 
 
 This refuge for the aged is one among many 
 instances of the munificence displayed in the 
 ancient city. That munificence is not only a 
 tradition of the past, it is still in vigorous life, as 
 of late an abundant witness has been borne. A 
 restored Bishopric, a rebuilded nave and a renovated 
 Cathedral choir, a Convalescent Home that means 
 new health and strength for a never-ceasing suc- 
 cession of the poor and the sick such are some of 
 the blessings that the present generation has seen. 
 
 And so I end my story of the old times, and the 
 recollections of those whom I personally have
 
 
 296 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 known, here in Bristol, which we men of Devon, 
 who have our home in it, term the " city of our 
 adoption." Through it lies the highway between 
 the Wales and the West that have contributed so 
 much to the pages which I close. And as I began 
 so must I end, asking the indulgence of the many, 
 my kinsmen and my kindly friends, for a silence 
 which is only maintained because, for my own 
 happiness and that of others, they are still spared 
 to be among us. And I add 
 
 "Down on your knees 
 And thank Heaven, fasting, for a good man's love."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 SUPPLEMENTARY 
 
 IT was in 1879 that I first saw, in the Temple 
 Church, the remarkable man who in years to come 
 was to be my kindly colleague and my most 
 generous friend. Alfred Ainger even then had the 
 appearance of age, and I well remember the 
 surprise it gave me when, after his appointment to 
 Bristol, I heard Bishop Ellicott describe him as a 
 popular London preacher. I had never then heard 
 a sermon from him, and the first sight, at a distance, 
 of the even then bent figure, and venerable head 
 was not somehow suggestive of vivid and attractive 
 speech. The appearance of old age, curiously at 
 variance with the youthfulness of gesture and 
 expression, was certainly a very notable thing. It 
 must have been, one would think, a unique instance. 
 When, some ten years ago, he went up the Nile, we 
 furnished him with letters of introduction to Lady 
 Waterford, who (it is needless to add) was charmed 
 
 297
 
 298 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 with his society. Shortly afterwards I saw Lady 
 Waterford in London, and asked her how she had 
 liked our friend. To which she replied in terms 
 that may be imagined, but ended with a remark 
 about "the dear old thing." "How old then do you 
 think he is?" was my natural question. "Eighty" 
 was the immediate and confident reply. Ainger was 
 then not more than fifty-eight. I became Canon 
 myself in 1892. He was still then in the habit of 
 taking the July, August, and September residence. 
 We were new arrivals, and did not move away that 
 year in the holiday time, and so it came to pass that 
 we were continually together, and that, out of circum- 
 stances that were quite exceptional, a closer friend- 
 ship grew up than could otherwise have probably 
 been formed. There were, however, certain 
 antecedents in my early home life that would in any 
 case have inclined him in this direction. To 
 Frederick Maurice he was in the habit of attributing 
 to a very great extent the best influences and the 
 highest ideals of his life. And Frederick Maurice 
 had been a loved and honoured guest in my father's 
 house, where his presence forms one of my very first 
 strongly marked memories. Nor did Maurice stand 
 alone in this respect. As I have already said in an 
 earlier chapter, Charles Kingsley and Thomas 
 Hughes were also closely associated with my father's 
 career. But next to Maurice the name of Daniel 
 Macmillan held, I need not say, with Ainger the
 
 SUPPLEMENTARY 299 
 
 most conspicuous place among that circle of the 
 forties and the fifties. I had a good deal in my 
 favour, then, when I became a member of the same 
 Cathedral body as the Reader of the Temple. 
 
 I do not recall that he ever told me anything more 
 of his boyhood than the fact that he was an intimate 
 chum of Mr. Charles Dickens, the eminent K.C., 
 and that they used to walk arm and arm together 
 repeating "Pickwick" in alternate passages. He 
 mentioned his having shared in theatricals at the 
 house of the elder Charles Dickens, on which 
 occasion the author himself took a part. In 
 deference to his father's desire, he did his best with 
 the uncongenial study of mathematics, and he was 
 wont in after life to regret the time thus expended. 
 But apart altogether from the reward that could not 
 but attach sooner or later to an act of filial respect, 
 I greatly question whether he really lost anything 
 by what he did. For it is, to say the least, quite 
 arguable that the severity of the mental discipline 
 afforded the bracing that was exactly needed in the 
 pursuits of his later life. 
 
 He was, as the years went on, a constant guest in 
 my house, and it was my privilege to be often with 
 him, when he became Master, at his delightful home 
 within the precincts of the Temple. It was in the 
 closer relations which thus came to be, that one 
 learned the real value of Alfred Ainger. Never did 
 a domestic life more thoroughly bear the test of
 
 300 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 observation at close quarters. I think all who 
 shared with me the hospitality of his own hearth 
 will bear me out in saying that it was apart from the 
 world, where he shone in so many ways, that his 
 best side conspicuously came out. One of the 
 greatest charms of his visits was his way of reading 
 aloud, when he was specially well, and inclined that 
 way. No one who ever enjoyed one of these 
 delightful renderings of passages pathetic, or 
 humorous, can ever conceivably forget it. He was 
 deeply interested in the Children's Holiday Fund, 
 and would sometimes gain an adherent by reading 
 something that bore on the subject such, for 
 example, as Mr. Anstey Guthrie's exquisite appeal in 
 the form of a dialogue between two poor London 
 mites on the joys of a visit to the country. For the 
 rest I do not think I need add anything to what I 
 wrote in the Guardian at the time he was taken 
 from us, and which I here append. 
 
 " It is no light enterprise adequately to pourtray 
 the characteristics of one so many-sided and so 
 richly endowed as the late Master of the Temple. 
 It might well seem, however, to be no ordinary 
 ingratitude if, at least, the endeavour were not 
 made by the present writer, who has no ordinary 
 reason for holding his memory in ever grateful 
 regard. Circumstances brought about an intimate 
 friendship from the first days of mutual association
 
 SUPPLEMENTARY 301 
 
 at Bristol, and the years that came after have been 
 marked by a kindness that never failed or faltered. 
 Indeed, the feature which was prominent before all 
 else was the warmth and generosity of heart which 
 revealed itself in a multitude of ways, in things both 
 great and small. Thus every day of his life for 
 many years he would never omit to forward the 
 Times to a friend on the Continent, whose life was 
 unenlivened and whose resources were scanty. But 
 it was when a wrong was done to a friend, or any 
 individual within his range of acquaintance was 
 dealt with unjustly, that the impulse of indigna- 
 tion carried him forcibly and far. There are 
 some who will never cease to recall the trenchant 
 reply he addressed to what he deemed a dis- 
 paraging allusion in the press to a former Canon 
 of the Cathedral. And with this chivalrous spirit 
 was united the nicest sense of honour. After the 
 resignation of his stall, the writer took the earliest 
 opportunity of seeing him in London. And he will 
 never forget the earnest tones in which his host 
 spoke what proved to be, alas ! --the last words he 
 would ever hear him say, ' Remember, I have done 
 what was right.' 
 
 " As a preacher, the charm of voice, its refined 
 quality and exquisite modulation, together with the 
 faultless language, made him invariably attractive 
 even to those who were either not wholly in sym- 
 pathy with the teaching of his sermons or did not
 
 302 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 move in a like intellectual plane. His ideal of 
 preaching is best given in his own words, read 
 at the recent Church Congress : 
 
 " ' Only so far as human life has been shown to 
 explain the Bible, and the Bible to explain human 
 life, will a sermon have any convincing power upon 
 those for whom it is composed.' 
 
 " There was in him the strongest revulsion from 
 a certain class of drama and novel of the day ; 
 their ' pestilent spirit ' (to use a phrase from 
 Ruskin) was wont to call out his righteous re- 
 probation. After a sermon at the Temple on 
 the perils of false art he expressed a hope to the 
 writer that he ' might have brushed some dirty 
 cobwebs away.' 
 
 "Among his great mental gifts none was perhaps 
 more remarkable than his extraordinary rapidity in 
 grasping the contents of a letter, or a printed page. 
 As in the case of a famous author of the last cen- 
 tury, a glance seemed to suffice, and with this 
 singular quickness was joined a most retentive 
 memory. The readiness of quotations, not only 
 from the better-known, but also from less read 
 writers, must over and over again have struck 
 those who were much in his company. Swift he 
 might be, superficial he never was. He had read 
 very widely indeed, but the critical faculty in no 
 case forsook him. With all his facility, too, he was
 
 5 UPPLEMENTA R Y 303 
 
 the most patient of men in his unremitting research 
 for material in his literary work. Each scrap, each 
 relic, each fragment of memory remaining to some 
 survivor of a bygone day all was treasured with 
 a scrupulous care, and found a place in the com- 
 pleted survey, His knowledge of music was in- 
 timate and discriminating. The special field of his 
 study had long been the great German masters. 
 It is interesting to recall an occasion when a ques- 
 tion being raised in a group of experts as to a 
 certain sonata, now seldom heard, after a moment 
 of recollection he sang softly the opening melody. 
 
 " This is not the moment to record instances of 
 his singular sense of humour. At some other time 
 this may perhaps be attempted. It may suffice 
 simply to say it has often seemed as though the 
 conversation of Sydney Smith was revived in our 
 later time, the wit so fresh, so natural, at once so 
 enjoyable and so enjoyed. The mere joker was 
 a person he could ill endure ; on the other hand : 
 
 "'How utter the surprise,' he writes of one 
 brilliant instance in Hood's poems, 'and yet 
 how inevitable the simile appears. It is just as 
 if the writer had not foreseen it, as if it had been 
 mere accident, as if he had discovered the coin- 
 cidence rather than arranged it.' 
 
 " How he loved the Temple, the church, the 
 gardens, the buildings with their wealth of mani- 
 fold associations ! But then with him as a com-
 
 304 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 panion there was little that could be lifeless or 
 dull. Widely and long he will be missed ; the old 
 familiar spots know him no more. His memory 
 will linger round them, while he himself has ' gone 
 before with the sign of faith, and now does sleep 
 in the sleep of peace.' ' 
 
 I was once taken by Canon Ainger to spend part 
 of a day with Mr. George Du Maurier. We went 
 for a walk together in the afternoon, and before we 
 parted the artist wrote out for me the pathetic little 
 French poem, " Peu de chose," as a recollection 
 of our meeting. Readers of Romanes' " Thoughts 
 on Religion " will remember the telling force with 
 which the graceful hopelessness (so to term it) of 
 these stanzas is set in juxtaposition with the nobler 
 lines, "The Night has a thousand eyes." 
 
 One day Canon Ainger had a letter from his 
 friend asking him if Bishops ever wore a moustache, 
 and containing a sketch which I at once recognised 
 as a likeness of Bishop Tucker, of Eastern Equa- 
 torial Africa. He had met him in the train, and 
 sent off the portrait and the inquiry accordingly. 
 I was able, of course, at once to supply the answer. 
 As it happened I met the Bishop immediately 
 afterwards at a drawing-room meeting arranged 
 by Lady Frere, where the story caused much 
 amusement to various people, and in particular 
 the person principally concerned.'
 
 S UPPLEMENTA RY 305 
 
 I now proceed to set down a few of the very 
 many bright and witty things which I recollect 
 hearing Ainger say. I ought to say at once that 
 amongst them are some two or three the authorship 
 of which he disclaimed. I do not know by whom 
 they were first said, I can only say that they are 
 irresistibly amusing. 
 
 My daughter owns a remarkably fine black cat. 
 He came to us no one knows whence shortly 
 after I was made Canon, and has ruled the house- 
 hold with a mild, but undoubtedly firm, despotism 
 ever since. His most appropriate name is Sweep. 
 Ainger was devoted to him, and one day suggested 
 the following as his epitaph : " No more shall we 
 have the care or the keep of him, For death has 
 stepped in and made a clean sweep of him" He 
 survives his friend. 
 
 At a luncheon party one day our host hospitably 
 pressed on us a cheese from Stilton, a present 
 to him from an old curate, now Rector of that 
 parish. It was in a condition which epicures desire. 
 But our friend liked his cheese at an earlier stage, 
 and courteously declined he had, he said, " No 
 wish to take the Stilton hundreds." 
 
 " What is jingoism ? My country right or 
 wrong." 
 
 21
 
 306 OLD TIMES AND NEW 
 
 "Ninety in the shade!" was his greeting to me, 
 reading the famous Tract XC., on an impossibly 
 hot day of 1893, m the cool recesses of my study. 
 The date should be noted, as a similar remark has 
 since been made. 
 
 When all London was boarded up with galleries 
 and stages for the Coronation in 1902, he suggested 
 that it was being done Consule Planco. 
 
 " Dear, dear, dear what a world it is," a car- 
 penter was overheard to say. " Buried my poor 
 wife last week, and now I can't find my gimblet." 
 
 " 'Our relations are becoming somewhat strained,' 
 as the Grand Inquisitor said when he put his cousin 
 on the rack." 
 
 " A sweet autumn attic if not an automatic 
 sweet," was his greeting to my bachelor quarters 
 at the Temple, one fine October day. 
 
 Just at the time that Dr. Buck, now of Harrow, 
 was passing from Wells to Bristol Cathedral, 
 Ainger was staying with us, recovering from in- 
 fluenza. He was lying on the hearthrug in front 
 of the fire (an attitude well known to his friends), 
 when he suddenly started up, and asked, " What is 
 the difference between the Organist of Wells, and
 
 SUPPLEMENTARY 307 
 
 the Tonic-Sol-fa system ? " As no one could 
 guess, he gave us the answer: "The one is 
 the movable Buck, and the other the movable 
 Do(e)." 
 
 An omnibus and a four-wheeler collided near 
 Piccadilly Circus, and flowers of rhetoric from the 
 respective drivers ensued. In this the driver of the 
 larger vehicle was decidedly the most emphatic. 
 So much so that the occupant of the cab felt 
 it necessary to let down the glass, and, leaning out, 
 to reprove the aggressor for his language. This 
 latter had concluded his remarks with a pointed 
 inquiry, " What do you come drivin' your old 
 rabbit-hutch into me for?" He listened in polite 
 silence to the remonstrances of the passenger, and 
 then inquired in tones of affected politeness and 
 surprise, " Ello, bunny, is that you?" 
 
 In reference to a then recent controversy, Ainger 
 described himself as being neither a Leeper, nor a 
 Plymouth brother. 
 
 A certain well-known ecclesiastic's name being 
 mentioned in regard of a particular church, Ainger 
 expressed his decided disapproval. I ventured to 
 suggest that he was with the congregation a persona 
 grata. " That may be, he replied ; to me he is a 
 nutmeg-grater ! "
 
 308 
 
 Asked for his opinion of a clergyman called 
 Negus as a preacher, he replied that he had never 
 heard a sermon from him, but that primd facie he 
 should say that wine and water was better in the 
 pulpit than milk and water discourses. 
 
 "A chaperone ? When a girl has made a chap her 
 own, she does not need one." 
 
 Canon Lyttelton used to say it was not a French 
 word at all, but really English, and meant the 
 sharper one. 
 
 Here is a less known anecdote of the Lambs. 
 
 After one of her enforced absences Mary Lamb 
 asked her brother, "Charles, how is Hannah 
 More?" To which he replied, with a characteristic 
 stammer, " My dear, she's not a-any more." Her 
 death had taken place during the interval. 
 
 And now for a Temple incident. 
 
 Robinson, the refined and scholarly Master of the 
 Temple, one day walking in the gardens, was 
 accosted by a Bencher to whom he apologised for 
 absence of mind, on the ground that he was " nescio 
 quid meditans nugarum." To which with exquisite 
 readiness and perfect accuracy the reply was made : 
 " Certainly, Master, but all your meditations are in 
 the Via Sacra"
 
 3 UPPLEMENTA RY 309 
 
 The following stones of the late Sir George Rose 
 are among the many which I heard from Ainger. 
 He was staying at a provincial hotel, and hearing a 
 good deal of noise below him, he asked the waiter 
 what was going on. The man replied that it was 
 the annual dinner of the Pawnbrokers' Association. 
 " Ha ! ha ! " said Sir George, " I thought I heard 
 them pledging one another'' 
 
 His Vicar, in the earlier days of the Oxford 
 revival, contemplated the restoration of Daily 
 Prayer. He called on Sir George to discuss the 
 matter with him. The latter gently gave him to 
 understand that he and his family were not likely 
 to attend, adding that he had domestic prayers 
 every day, and that in this case as in others, 
 Service at home was good service. 
 
 And here is a last bon mot belonging to ourselves. 
 
 When the Dean and Chapter of Bristol abolished 
 the system of "tips," and arranged for a fixed pay- 
 ment of sixpence a person to view the Cathedral, 
 the Archdeacon described the portions that would 
 thus be opened at a uniform rate as "the penetralia." 
 "The six-penny-tralia, if you please," was the quick 
 and quiet rejoinder.
 
 Index 
 
 ADDINGTON, H. (PRIME MINISTER), 43 
 
 52 
 
 Ainger, Rev. Canon, 297 
 Angel Inn, The, Oxford, 130 
 Arthur, Sir George, 23, 24, 26, 28, 29 
 Arthur, Sarah and John, 5 
 Atkinson, John, and Coaching Days, 
 
 267 
 
 BAKER, BARWICK LLOYD, 254 
 Baldwin, J. L., 217 
 Beaufort, Duke of, 206 
 Blomfield, Bishop, 134 
 Bloxam, Rev. Dr., 141 
 Blundell's School, 5, 122 
 Boldero, Rev. H. K., 217 
 Boyle, Hon. C., 229 
 Bread Riots of 1847, 91 
 Bright, Rev. Canon, 173 
 Bristol Riots of 1831, 130, 256 
 Brougham, Lord, 191 
 Brown, Dr. John, 102 
 Bruce, Rev. Canon, 198 
 Buckley, Rev. Joseph, 206 
 Bulley, President, 132, 134, 135 
 Burdett, Sir F., 54 
 
 CAMOYS, LORD, 228 
 Cape, Dr. Lawson, 229 
 
 Carew, Sir W., 270 
 
 Carew, Rev. R., 116 
 
 Carnarvon, Earl of, 187 
 
 Carter, Rev. Canon, 220 
 
 Cholmeley, Rev. C. H., 137 
 
 Chute, Mr. Chaloner, 143 
 
 Clare, Lord, 29 
 
 Clarence, H.R.H. Prince William 
 
 Henry, Duke of, 16, 37 
 Clarence, H.R.H. Prince Albert 
 
 Victor, Duke of, 149 
 Clark, Erving, 100 
 Clarke, of Bridwell, 124 
 Cobb, J. F., 114 
 Coleridge, Lord, 169 
 Corfe, Dr., 166 
 Cornish, Rev. Dr., 162 
 Cornish, Rev. C., 292 
 Cornish, Mrs., 292 
 Cricket in the West, 184 
 Cruger, Mr., 38 
 
 DANIEL, THOMAS, 115 
 Daubeny, Professor, 138 
 Davidson, Rev. J. P. F., 218 
 Dedication of St. Job, 123 
 Denman, Hon. G., 118 
 Dickinson, F. H., 179 
 Dining at Magdalen, 133
 
 INDEX 
 
 Douglas, Lord Francis, 106 
 Du Maurier, G., 304 
 Dumourieg, General, 227 
 
 EVANS, DR., 262 
 
 Evans, Rev. Master, 258-261 
 
 Eykyn, Roger, 16 
 
 FAYLE, REV. R., 85 
 
 Festival of the Three Choirs, 200 
 
 Fisher, Rev. Dr., 141 
 
 Fitzhardinge, Lord, 290 
 
 Fortescue, W. B., 121, 124, 268 
 
 Fox, Rt. Hon. C., 47, 49 
 
 Foxcroft Jones, Captain, 162 
 
 Franks, John, 199 
 
 Freeman, E. A., 173 
 
 Frere, Sir Bartle, 24 
 
 Frere, Lady, 24 
 
 GLADSTONE, RT. HON. W. E., 177, 
 
 185, 289 
 
 Goddard, A., 223 
 Gore, Ralph, 10 
 Gore, Mrs., n, 16 
 Gore, Colonel, n, 16, 59 
 Grace, Dr. W. G., 216 
 Gray, Bishop, 21, 294 
 Grey, Rev. Harry, 79 
 Griffiths, Archdeacon, 87 
 Grylls, Rev. Prebendary, 182 
 
 HANDLEY, REV. E., 146 
 Hansard, Rev. S., 158 
 Harris, Mary, 9 
 Harris, Robert, Epitaph on, 10 
 Harris, Rev. Prebendary, 103 
 Harvey, Rev. Canon, 258 
 Hastings, Warren, 38, 40, 41 
 Hawker, John, 6 
 Hawkins, Provost, 154 
 I lenry, Bishop of Exeter, 93 
 Hoppner, artist, 10, II 
 Hughes, Judge, 96, 98 
 Hyacinthe, Pere, 190 
 
 JACOBSON, BISHOP, 154 
 James, Rev. G., 84 
 "John Halifax, Gentleman," 19 
 "Jus suum cuique," 134 
 
 KINGSLEY, REV. CHARLES, 97 
 Kingsley, Mrs., 97 
 
 LANGMEAD, PHILIP, 18, 43 
 
 Laroche-Jacquelin, 227 
 
 Law, Dean, 258 
 
 Law, Rev. Robert Vanbrugh, 219 
 
 Leith-Hay, Sir Andrew, 36 
 
 Leith-Hay, Colonel, 36 
 
 Liddon, Rev. Canon, 36, 188 
 
 Long, Edwin R.A., 238 
 
 Longley, Archbishop, 15 
 
 Longley, Miss, 15 
 
 Longley, John, Recorder of Rocheste 
 
 15 
 
 Ludlow, Lord, 271 
 Lukin, Hon. Mrs., 21 
 Lukin, Dean, 101 * 
 Lyte, Maxwell, 110 
 
 MACKARNESS, BISHOP, 172 
 Macmillan, Daniel, 98 
 Manning, Cardinal, 228 
 March Phillipps, C., 91 
 Marshall, Emma, 101, 181 
 Maurice, Rev. F. D., 95 
 Merewether, Serjeant, 272 
 Mice and Rats at Magdalen, 131 
 Myers, Frederick, no 
 
 NAPOLEON III., EMPEROR, 207 
 Nelson, Admiral Lord, 17, 57 
 Neville, Rev. Prebendary, 220 
 Norris, Archdeacon, 244, 284 
 
 OAKES, SIR H., 59 
 Ollivant, Bishop, 196 
 Orgy in Torquay, 90 
 
 PALMERSTON, VISCOUNT, 118, 57 
 Parades, Comte de, 4
 
 312 
 
 Parry, T. Gambier, 239 
 Phelips, Mr. , of Montacute, 33 
 Phillimore, Sir Robert, 225 
 Phillimore, Rev. Greville, 222 
 Philpotts, Bishop, 82, 93 
 Pitt, Rt. Hon. W., 40, 43, 55 
 Plumptre, Rev. Master, 153 
 Plumptre, Dean, 153 
 Powys-Keck, Mrs., 16 
 Prevost, Sir G., 288, 289 
 Price, Rev. Master, 261 
 Price, William Philip, 250 
 
 RAYNOR, REV. J., 32 
 R^gaud, Rev. John, 142 
 Rtfgaud, General, 142 
 Remarkable Ghost Stories, 59 
 Ridsdale, S. O. B., 159 
 Robartes, Lord and Lady, 180 
 Routh, President, 142 
 Russell, Lord John, 121 
 
 SATIS HOUSE, ROCHESTER, 15, 16 
 Sawyer, Robert, 171 
 Sherbrooke, Sir J., 58, 60, 63, 72 
 Sheridan, Mr. , 49, 54 1 
 Smith, Goldwin, 152 
 Smith, Rt. Hon. W. II., 229 
 Smith, Albert, 171 
 Smith, Sydney, 260 
 Somerset, Granville, 212 
 Somerset, Rev. Lord William, 204 
 Stainer, Sir John, 144 
 Stephens, Dean, 148 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Stephenson, Rev. Treasurer, III 
 Stoodleigh Church, 117 
 Sumner, Judge, 192 
 
 TAIT, ARCHBISHOP, 224 
 Temple, Archbishop, 124 
 Tinling, Rev. Canon, 259 
 Thorpe, Archdeacon, 281 
 Toogood, J. B., 92 
 Torrington, Vlth Viscount, 21 
 Torrington, VHth Viscount, 191 
 Torrington, Vlllth Viscount, 190 
 Travelling in 1862, 105 
 
 WADE, REV. CANON, 287 
 Wait, W. Killigrew, 285 
 " Washy West," 157 
 Waterford, Marchioness of, 209 
 Waterloo, Recollections of, 12 
 Welby, Philip, 143 
 Wellington, Duke of, 10, 21 
 Wesley, Dr., 263 
 White, Rev. Dr., 295 
 Whiting, Mr., 133 
 Wilberforce, Bishop, 144 
 Williams, Dean, 196 
 Williams, Sir Edmund K., 6 
 Williams, Rev. Turberville, 7 
 Wolfe, Rev. Prebendary, 90 
 Woodcock, Rev. Prebendary, 193 
 Woodford, Bishop, 282 
 Wynne, Mr. G. , 4, 5 
 Wynne, John Arthur, 5 
 Wynyard, General, 59, 65 
 
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