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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:59:33 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:59:33 -0700 |
| commit | d06b83727d50c6d7b57968799f18e84828f0af8b (patch) | |
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diff --git a/old/44810-h/44810-h.htm b/old/44810-h/44810-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..37fe1dd --- /dev/null +++ b/old/44810-h/44810-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5721 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Chats in the Book-room, by Horace N. Pym. + </title> + <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> +<style type="text/css"> + +/* Hide all underlines in links */ +A {text-decoration:none } + +/* IMAGES */ +/* Image border */ +.bord img { + padding: 1px; + border: 2px solid black; } + +/* Center images */ +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + padding-top: 1em; + padding-bottom: 1em; } + +/* FONTS AND TEXT */ +/* Align text */ +.center { + text-align:center; + padding-top: 1em; + text-indent:0%; } + +/* Right-align text */ +.right { + text-align: right; } + +/* Text margins */ +body { + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; } + +.margin-top3 { + margin-top: 3em; } + +.margin-left-10 { + margin-left: 10%; } + +.margin-left-25 { + margin-left: 25%; } + +.margin-left-50 { + margin-left: 50%; } + +.margin-left-60 { + margin-left: 60%; } + +/* Headings centered */ +h1 { + text-align: center; + line-height: 2; } + +h2 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; } + +h3 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; } + +/* Paragraphs margings and alignment */ +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; } + +/* Small caps */ +.smcap { + font-variant: small-caps; } + +/* DROP CAPS */ +img.drop-cap + { + float: left; + margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; + position: relative; + z-index: 1; /* Paint decorative initial over top of normal letter */ + } + +p.drop-cap:first-letter + { + margin-left: -1.9em; /* Move first letter under decorative initial */ + padding-right: 1.3em; /* Move rest of text back to regular flow */ + } + +/* Top spacing: 1em */ +.topspacing1 { + margin-top: 1em; } + +/* Top spacing: 2em */ +.topspacing2 { + margin-top: 2em; } + +/* Top spacing: 3em */ +.topspacing3 { + margin-top: 3em; } + +/* Top spacing: 5em */ +.topspacing5 { + margin-top: 5em; } + +/* Hanging Indents */ +.hangindent + { + text-align: left; + vertical-align: bottom; + padding-left: 1.5em; + text-indent: -1.5em; + } + +/* TABLES */ + +/* Table of contents */ +.toctable { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + width:100%; + border:0; + border-spacing:0px; + padding:2px; } + +/* Chapter no. headings */ +td.chap-no { + text-align: center; + padding-top: 2em; } + +/* col. 1 */ +td.c1 { + text-align: left; + vertical-align: top; + padding-right: 0em; + padding-left: 2.2em; + text-indent: -2.2em; } + +/* col. 2 */ +td.c2 { + text-align: right; + vertical-align: bottom; + padding-right: 0em; + padding-left: 1em; } + +/* THOUGHT BREAKS */ +/* Chapter separator, width=60% */ +hr.chap { + margin-top: 5em; + margin-bottom: 5em; + margin-left: 20%; + margin-right: 20%; + width: 60%; } + +/* Width=30% */ +hr.sect { + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 35%; + margin-right: 35%; + width: 30%; } + +/* Verses*/ +.poetry { + margin-left:20%; + margin-right:10%; + max-width:22em; + text-align: left; + display: inline-block;} + +.poetry .stanza { + margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em; } + +.poetry .verse { + padding-left: 3em; + text-indent: -3em; + font-size: smaller; } + +.poetry-container { + text-align: center; } + +.poetry .indent1 { + text-indent: 1em; } + +.poetry .indent3 { + text-indent: 3em; } + +.poetry .indent10 { + text-indent: 10em; } + +.poetry .indent1_5 { + text-indent: -1.5em; } + +.poetry .indent2_6 { + text-indent: -2.6em; } + +/* FOOTNOTES */ +/* Footnotes anchor*/ +.fnanchor { + vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; } + +/* Footnotes container*/ +.footnotes { + padding-left: .5em; + padding-right: .5em; } + +.footnote { + margin-left: 6%; + margin-right: 10%; + font-size: 0.9em; +} + +.footnote .label { + position: absolute; + right: 78%; + text-align: right; +} + +/* Keep blocks together */ +.keep-block { + display:inline-block; + width: 100%;} + +/* Block Quotes */ +.blockquote { + margin-left: 5%; + max-width: 50em; + font-size: smaller; } + +/* Page numbers */ +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + text-align: right; + font-size: smaller; } +/* visibility: hidden } */ + +/* Index entries */ +.ndx-li { + padding-left:.5em; + text-indent:-1.5em; } + +.ndx-ul { + list-style-type: none; + margin-top: 2em; } + +/* TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES */ +/*Note size and color */ +.transnote { + background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + +/* VARIANTS FOR @MEDIA HANDHELD */ +@media handheld + { + .poetry { + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + max-width: 30em; + display: block; } + + img.drop-cap + { + visibility: hidden; + display: none; + } + + p.drop-cap:first-letter + { + margin-left: 0em; + padding-right: 0em; + } + } + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chats in the Book-Room, by Horace N. Pym + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Chats in the Book-Room + +Author: Horace N. Pym + +Release Date: January 31, 2014 [EBook #44810] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CHATS IN THE BOOK-ROOM *** + + + + +Produced by Chris Curnow, Christian Boissonnas and the +Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net +(This file was produced from images generously made +available by The Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"><a name="cover" id="cover"></a> + <img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Front Cover" /></div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing5"><a name="i_001.jpg" id="i_001.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_001.jpg" + alt="Chats in the Book-room" /></div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="hangindent blockquote">Of this Book only One Hundred and Fifty +Copies were privately printed for the +Author, on Arnold's Unbleached Handmade +Paper, in the month of January +1896—of which this is</p> +<p class="center"><i>No. 25</i></p> + +<div class="figcenter right"><a name="i_002.jpg" id="i_002.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_002.jpg" + alt="H.N. Pym" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter bord"><a name="PORTRAIT" id="PORTRAIT"> + <img src="images/i_004.jpg" alt="Picture of Horace Pym" /></a> + +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter bord"><a name="i_007.jpg" id="i_007.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_007.jpg" + alt="Title Page" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h1><big>Chats in the<br /> +Book-room</big></h1> + +<p class="center">By<br /> +<br /> +Horace N. Pym<br /> +<br /> +<small>Editor of Caroline Fox's Journals; A Mother's Memoir;<br /> +A Tour Round my Book-shelves, etc. etc.</small></p> + +<p class="center"><i>With Portrait by MOLLY EVANS, and Two<br /> +Photogravures of the Book-room</i></p> + +<p class="blockquote topspacing3">"If any one, whom you do not know, relates strange stories, +be not too ready to believe or report them, and yet (unless he is +one of your familiar acquaintances) be not too forward to contradict +him."—<span class="smcap">Sir Matthew Hale.</span></p> + +<p class="topspacing5 center">Privately Printed for the Author in the Year +1896 by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="center"><i>To<br /> +My Dearly Loved Son<br /><br /> +<big>Julian Tindale Pym</big><br /><br /> +I dedicate these "Chats in the Book-room," +to which I ask him to extend that noble +"Patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill," +which gilds and elevates his life.</i></p> + +<p class="right">H. N. P.</p> + +<p class="smcap">Christmas,<br /> +Foxwold Chase, 1895.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter"><a name="i_011.jpg" id="i_011.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_011.jpg" + alt="Page Header" /> +</div> + +<h2>Table of Contents</h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Youth longs and manhood strives, but age remembers,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>Sits by the raked-up ashes of the past,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Spreads its thin hands above the whitening embers,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>That warm its creeping life-blood till the last.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">O. W. Holmes.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="right topspacing2">Page</p> + +<table class="toctable" id="TOC" summary="Contents"> + <tr> + <td> </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td><span class="smcap"><a href="#INTRODUCTION" style="text-decoration: none;"> + Introduction</a></span></td> + <td class="c2">1</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_I" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT I.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On Richard Corney Grain—His home qualities—His + love for children—His benevolence—His power of pathos— + His letter on a holiday</td> + <td class="c2">3</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_II" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT II.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On a portrait of General Wolfe—On the use of portraits + in country-houses—On a sale at Christie's—A curious story + about a curious sale</td> + <td class="c2">8</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> + <a href="#CHAT_III" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT III.</a></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On holiday trips—Across the Atlantic—Some + humours of the voyage—Some stories told in the gun-room</td> + <td class="c2">18</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_IV" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT IV.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On a private visit to Newgate prison—In Execution yard— + Some anecdotes of the condemned</td> + <td class="c2">34</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_V" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT V.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On Book-binding—Some worthy members of the craft + —On over-work and the modern race for wealth—Charles Dickens + on work—A Song of the City—Anecdote of Mr. Anstey Guthrie</td> + <td class="c2">41</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_VI" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT VI.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On an uninvited guest—Her illness—Her + convalescence—Her recovery—Her gratitude—On texts + in bedrooms—A welcoming banner</td> + <td class="c2">53</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_VII" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT VII.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On some minor poets—On <i>vers de Société</i>— + On Praed, C. S. Calverley, Locker-Lampson, and Mr. A. Dobson</td> + <td class="c2">58</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_VIII" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT VIII.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On Mr. Punch and his founders—Concerning portraits + of Jerrold, Kenny Meadows, and Horace Mayhew—On Mr. Sala as a + painter—A letter from G. A. Sala</td> + <td class="c2">66</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> + <a href="#CHAT_IX" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT IX.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On our schooldays—On Bedford, past and present— + On R. C. Lehmann—A poem by him—A Christmas greeting by + H. E. Luxmoore</td> + <td class="c2">73</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_X" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT X.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On John Poole, the author of "Paul Pry"—His friendship + with Dickens—His letter to Dickens detailing the French Revolution + of 1848</td> + <td class="c2">82</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_XI" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT XI.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On Ethie Castle—Its artistic treasures—A letter + from Charles II.—A true family ghost story</td> + <td class="c2">99</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_XII" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT XII.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On Cardinal Manning—Dramatic effect at his + <i>Academia</i>—On Poets who are never read, or "hardly ever"</td> + <td class="c2">108</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_XIII" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT XIII.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On a true story, called "Jane will return"—On + Hamilton's "Parodies"—An unknown one, by the Rev. James Bolton</td> + <td class="c2">119</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> + <a href="#CHAT_XIV" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT XIV.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On autographs—Mr. James Payn and his + lay-sermons—Mrs. Charles Fox of Trebah—Her friendship with + Hartley Coleridge—A letter from him—A letter from John + Bright to Caroline Fox—Mr. Ruskin as a mineral collector—Five + unpublished letters from him</td> + <td class="c2">125</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="chap-no"><a href="#CHAT_XV" style="text-decoration: none;">CHAT XV.</a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1">On Mrs. Lyne Stephens—The story of her early + life—Thackeray's sketch of her—Her art collections—A + wonderful sale at Christie's—Her charities and friendships—Her + death—Her funeral sermon—Her portraits</td> + <td class="c2">143</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div class="poetry-container topspacing2"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>I come not here your morning hour to sadden,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>A limping pilgrim, leaning on his staff,—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>I, who have never deemed it sin to gladden</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>This vale of sorrows with a wholesome laugh.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="right">—The Iron Gate.</p> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"><a name="i_014.jpg" id="i_014.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_014.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<h2>List of Illustrations</h2> + +<table class="toctable" id="ILLUSTRATIONS" summary="Illustrations"> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="smcap"> + <a href="#PORTRAIT" style="text-decoration: none;">Portrait</a></span></td> + <td class="c2"><i>To face the Title Page</i></td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="smcap"> + <a href="#BOOK_ROOM_1" style="text-decoration: none;"> + The Book Room (First View)</a></span></td> + <td class="c2"><i>Page</i> 58</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td class="c1"><span class="smcap"> + <a href="#BOOK_ROOM_2" style="text-decoration: none;"> + The Book Room (Second View)</a></span></td> + <td class="c2"> " 113</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing5"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span> + <a name="i_017a.jpg" id="i_017a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_017a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION" id="INTRODUCTION">Introduction</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Some of your griefs you have cured,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>And the sharpest you still have survived;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>But what torments of pain you endured,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>From evils that never arrived!</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p class="topspacing1">A few years ago a little +inconsequent volume was +launched on partial acquaintance, +telling of some +ordinary books which line our friendly +shelves, of some kindly friends who +had read and chatted about them, some +old stories they had told, and some +happy memories they had awakened.</p> + +<p>When those acquaintances had read +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +the little book, they asked, like Oliver, +for more. A rash request, because, unlike +Oliver, they get it in the shape +of another "Olla Podrida" of book-chat, +picture-gossip, and perchance a +stray "chestnut." Their good-nature +must be invoked to receive it, like +C. S. Calverley's sojourners—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"Who when they travel, if they find</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">That they have left their pocket-compass,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Or Murray, or thick boots behind,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">They raise no rumpus."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"><a name="i_018.jpg" id="i_018.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_018.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> + <a name="i_019a.jpg" id="i_019a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_019a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_I" id="CHAT_I">Chat No. 1.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Lie softly, Leisure! Doubtless you,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>With too serene a conscience drew</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Your easy breath, and slumbered through</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>The gravest issue;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>But we, to whom our age allows</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Scarce space to wipe our weary brows,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Look down upon your narrow house,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>Old friend, and miss you.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Austin Dobson.</span></div> + + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_019b.jpg" alt="Letter S"/> +</div> +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">Since</span> +we made our last +"Tour Round the Book-shelves," +death has removed one of the kindest +friends, and most genial companions, of +the Book-room. In Richard Corney +Grain, Foxwold has lost one of its +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +pleasantest and most welcome guests, +and it is doubtful, well as the public +cared for and appreciated his genius, if +it knew or suspected how generous a +heart, and how wide a charity, moved +beneath that massive frame. When +rare half-holidays came, it was no uncommon +thing for Dick Grain to dedicate +them to the solace and amusement +of some hospital or children's home, +where, with a small cottage piano, he +would, moving from ward to ward, +give the suffering patients an hour's +freedom from their pain, and some +happy laughs amid their misery.</p> + +<p>One day, after a series of short performances +in the different parts of one +of our large London hospitals, he was +about to sing in the accident ward, +when the secretary to the hospital +gravely asked him "Not to be too +funny in this room, for fear he'd +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +make the patients burst their bandages!"</p> + +<p>Dick Grain was never so happy, so +natural, or so amusing as when, of his +own motion, he was singing to a nursery +full of children in a country +house.</p> + +<p>Those who knew him well were aware +that, delightful as were all his humorous +impersonations, he had a graver and +more impressive side to his lovable and +admirable character, and that he would +sometimes, when sure he would be +understood, sing a pathetic song, which +made the tears flow as rapidly as in +others the smiles had been evoked.</p> + +<p>Who that heard it will forget his +little French song, supposed to be +sung by one of the first Napoleon's +old Guard for bread in the streets. He +sang in a terrible, hoarse, cracked voice +a song of victory, breaking off in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +middle of a line full of the sound of +battle to cough a hacking cough, and +beg a sous for the love of God!</p> + +<p>Subjoined is one of his friendly little +notes, full of the quiet happy humour +that made him so welcome a guest in +every friend's house.</p> + + +<div class="blockquote"> + <div class="margin-left-60 smcap">Hothfield Place,</div> + <div class="smcap right">Ashford, Kent.</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Pym</span></p> + +<p>I shall be proud to welcome you +and Mrs. Pym on Wednesday the 26th, but +why St. George's Hall? Why not go at +once to a play and not to an entertainment? +Plays at night. Entertainments in the afternoon. +Besides, we are so empty in the +evenings now, the new piece being four +weeks overdue. Anyhow, I hope to see you +at 8 Weymouth Street on Nov. 26th, at any +hour after my work, say 10.15 or 10.30, and +so on, every quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>"I am dwelling in the Halls of the Great, +waited on by powdered menials, who rather +look down on me, I think, and hide my +clothes, and lay things out I don't wish to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +put on, and button my collar on to my shirt, +and my braces on to my ——, and when I +try to throw the braces over my shoulders I +hit my head with the buckle, and get my +collar turned upside down, and tear out the +buttons in my endeavours to get it right; and +they fill my bath so full, that the displacement +caused by my unwieldy body sends +quarts of water through the ceiling on to +the drawing-room—the Red Drawing-room. +Piano covered with the choicest products of +Eastern towns. Luckily the party is small, +so we only occupy the Dragon's Blood Room, +so perhaps they won't notice it. But a truce +to fooling till Nov. 26.—Yours sincerely,</p> + +<div class="right"><span class="smcap">R. Corney Grain</span>."</div> +<div><i>Nov. 16, 1890.</i></div> +</div> + +<p class="topspacing1">He was one of the most gifted, +warmest-hearted friends; his cynicism +was all upon the surface, and was never +unkind, the big heart beat true beneath. +His premature death has eclipsed the +honest gaiety of this nation—"he should +have died hereafter."</p> + + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> + <a name="i_024.jpg" id="i_024.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_024.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_II" id="CHAT_II">Chat No. 2.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>To all the sensual world proclaim,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>One crowded hour of glorious life,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>Is worth an age without a name.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—Old Mortality.</div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_017b.jpg" alt="Letter A"/> +</div> +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">A Picture</span> +hangs at Foxwold +of supreme interest +and beauty, being a portrait +of General Wolfe by Gainsborough. +Its history is shortly this—painted +in Bath in 1758, probably for +Miss Lowther, to whom he was then +engaged, and whose miniature he was +wearing when death claimed him; it +afterwards became the property of Mr. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +Gibbons, a picture collector, who lived +in the Regent's Park in London, descending +in due course to his son, whose +widow eventually sold it to Thomas +Woolner, the R.A. and sculptor; it +was bought for Foxwold from Mrs. +Woolner in 1895.</p> + +<p>The great master has most wonderfully +rendered the hero's long, gaunt, +sallow face lit up by fine sad eyes full +of coming sorrow and present ill-health. +His cocked hat and red coat slashed +with silver braid are brilliantly painted, +whilst his red hair is discreetly subdued +by a touch of powder.</p> + +<p>One especial interest that attends this +picture in its present home is, that +within two miles of Foxwold he was +born, and passed some youthful years in +the picturesque little town of Westerham, +his birthplace, and that his short +and wonderful career will always be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +especially connected with Squerryes +Court, then the property of his friend +George Warde, and still in the possession +of that family.</p> + +<p>Until recently no adequate or satisfactory +life of Wolfe existed, but Mr. +A. G. Bradley has now filled the gap +with his beautiful and affecting monograph +for the Macmillan Series of +English Men of Action: a little book +which should be read by every English +boy who desires to know by what +means this happy land is what it is.</p> + +<p>In country houses the best decoration +is portraits, portraits, and always portraits. +In the town by all means show +fine landscape and sea-scape—heathery +hills and blue seas—fisher folks and +plough boys—but when from your +windows the happy autumn fields and +glowing woods are seen, let the eye +returning to the homely walls be +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +cheered with the answer of face to face, +human interests and human features +leading the memory into historic channels +and memory's brightest corners. +How pleasant it is in the room where, +in the spirit, we now meet, to chat beneath +the brilliant eyes of R. B. Sheridan, +limned by Sir Joshua, or to note +with a smile the dignified importance +of Fuseli, painted by Harlow, or to +turn to the last portrait of Sir Joshua +Reynolds, painted by himself, and of +which picture Mr. Ruskin once remarked, +"How deaf he has drawn +himself."</p> + +<p>Of the fashion in particular painters' +works, Christie's rooms give a most +instructive object-lesson. It is within +the writer's memory when Romneys +could be bought for £20 apiece, and +now that they are fetching thousands, +the wise will turn to some other master +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +at present neglected, and gather for +his store pictures quite as full of beauty +and truth, and whose price will not +cause his heirs to blaspheme.</p> + +<p>A constant watchful attendance at +Christie's is in itself a liberal education, +and it seldom happens that those who +know cannot during its pleasant season +find "that grain of gold" which is +often hidden away in a mass of mediocrity. +And then those clever, courteous +members of the great house are always +ready to give the modest inquirer the +full benefit of their vast knowledge, +and, if necessary, will turn to their +priceless records, and guide the timid, +if appreciative, visitor into the right +path of selection.</p> + +<p>What a delightful thing it is to be +present at a field-day in King Street. +The early lunch at the club—the settling +into a backed-chair at the exactly +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +proper angle to the rostrum and the +picture-stand. (The rostrum, by the +way, was made by Chippendale for the +founder of the house.) At one o'clock +the great Mr. Woods winds his way +through the expectant throng, and is +promptly shut into his pulpit, the steps +of which are as promptly tucked in and +the business and pleasure of the afternoon +begins. Mr. Woods, dominating +his audience</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,"</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>gives a quick glance round the big +room, now filled with well-known +faces, whose nod to the auctioneer is +often priceless. Sir William Agnew +rubs shoulders with Lord Rosebery, and +Sir T. C. Robinson whispers his doubts +of a picture to a Trustee of the National +Collection; old Mr. Vokins extols, if +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +you care to listen, the old English +water-colourists, to many of whom he +was a good friend, and Mr. George +Redford makes some notes of the best +pictures for the Press; but Mr. Woods' +quiet incisive voice demands silence as +Lot 1 is offered with little prefix, and +soon finds a buyer at a moderate price.</p> + +<p>The catalogues, which read so pleasantly +and convey so much within a +little space, are models of clever composition, +beginning with items of lesser +interest and carefully leading up to the +great attractions of the afternoon, which +fall to the bid of thousands of guineas +from some great picture-buyer, amidst +the applause of the general crowd.</p> + +<p>A pure Romney, a winsome Gainsborough, +a golden Turner, or a Corot +full of mystery and beauty, will often +evoke a round of hand-clapping when +it appears upon the selling-easel, and a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +swift and sharp contest between two +or three well-known connoisseurs will +excite the audience like a horse-race, a +fencing bout, or a stage drama.</p> + +<p>The history of Christie's is yet to +be written, notwithstanding Mr. Redford's +admirable work on "Art Sales," +and when it is written it should be one +of the most fascinating histories of the +nineteenth century; but where is the +Horace Walpole to indite such a +work? and who possesses the necessary +materials?</p> + +<p>One curious little history I can tell +concerning a sale in recent years of the +Z—— collection of pictures and <i>objets +d'art</i>, which will, to those who know it +not, prove "a strange story."</p> + +<p>A former owner, distinguished by +his social qualities and position, in a +fit of passion unfortunately killed his +footman. The wretched victim had no +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +friends, and was therefore not missed, +and the only person, besides his slayer, +aware of his death, and how it was +caused, was the butler. The crime +was therefore successfully concealed, and +no inquiries made. But after a little +time the butler began to use his knowledge +for his own personal purposes.</p> + +<p>Putting the pressure of the blackmailer +upon his unhappy master, he +began to make him sing, by receiving +as the price of his silence, first a fine +picture or two, then some rare china, +followed by art furniture, busts, more +pictures, and more china, until he had +well-nigh stripped the house.</p> + +<p>Still, like the daughter of the horse-leech, +crying, "Give, give!" he made +his nominal master assign to him the +entire estates, reserving only to himself +a life interest, which, in his miserable +state of bondage, did not last long.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> + +<p>The chief butler on his master's +death took his name and possessions, +ousting the rightful heirs; and after +enjoying a wicked, but not uncommon, +prosperity with his stolen goods for +some years, he also died in the odour +of sanctity, and went to his own place.</p> + +<p>His successors, hearing uneasy rumours, +determined to be rid of their tainted +inheritance; so placed all the pictures +and pretty things in the sale-market, +and otherwise disposed of their ill-gotten +property.</p> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_033.jpg" id="i_033.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_033.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> + <a name="i_034a.jpg" id="i_034a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_034a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_III" id="CHAT_III">Chat No. 3.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're afloat,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>Wary of the weather, and steering by a star?</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>To Providence, or Babylon, or off to Malabar.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_034b.jpg" alt="Letter T"/> +</div> +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">The</span> +best holiday for an +over-worked man, who has +little time to spare, and +who has not given "hostages +to fortune," is to sail across the +herring-pond on a Cunarder or White +Star hotel, and so get free from newspapers, +letters, visitors, dinner-parties, +and all the daily irritations of modern +life.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>Those grand Atlantic rollers fill the +veins with new life, the tired brain +with fresh ideas; and the happy, idle +days slip away all too soon, after which +a short stay in New York or Boston +City, and then back again.</p> + +<p>The study of character on board is +always pleasant and instructive, and +sometimes a happy friendship is begun +which lasts beyond the voyage.</p> + +<p>Then, again, the cliques into which +the passengers so naturally fall, is funny +to watch. The reading set, who early +and late occupy the best placed chairs, +and wade through a vast mass of miscellaneous +literature, and are only roused +therefrom by the ringing summons to +meals; then there is the betting and +gambling set, who fill card and smoking +room as long as the rules permit, coming +to the surface now and then for breath, +and to see what the day's run has been, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +or to organise fresh sweepstakes; then +there is often an evangelical set, who +gather in a ring upon the deck, if permitted, +and sing hymns, and address in +fervid tones the sinners around them; +then there are the gossips (most pleasant +folk these), the flirts, the deck pedestrians, +those who dress three times a +day, and those who dress hardly at all: +and so the drama of a little world is +played before a very appreciative little +audience.</p> + +<p>I remember on such a journey being +greatly interested in the study of a +delightful rugged old Scotch engineer, +whose friendship I obtained by a genuine +admiration for his devotion to his +engines, and his belief in their personality. +It was his habit in the evening, +after a long day's run, to sit alongside +these throbbing monsters and play his +violin to them, upon which he was a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +very fair performer, saying, "They deserved +cheering up a bit after such a +hard day's work!" This was a real and +serious sentiment on his part, and inspired +respect and an amused admiration +on ours.</p> + +<p>The humours of one particular voyage +which I have in my memory, were +delightfully intensified by the presence +on board of a very charming American +child, called Flossie L——, about fourteen +years old, who by her capital +repartees, acute observation, and pretty +face, kept her particular set of friends +very much alive, and made all who +knew her, her devoted slaves and +admirers.</p> + +<p>Her remark upon a preternaturally +grave person, who marched the deck +each day before our chairs, "that she +guessed he had a lot of laughter coiled +up in him somewhere," proved, before +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +the voyage was over, to be quite +true.</p> + +<p>It was this gentleman who, one +morning, solemnly confided to a friend +that he was a little suspicious of the +drains on board!</p> + +<p>Americanisms, which are now every +one's property, were at this time—I am +speaking of twenty years ago—not so +common, and glided from Flossie's +pretty lips most enchantingly. To be +told on a wet morning, with half a gale +of wind blowing, "to put on a skin-coat +and gum-boots" to meet the elements, +was at that day startling, if useful, +advice. She professed a serious attachment +for a New York cousin, aged +sixteen, "Because," she said, "he is +so dissolute, plays cards, smokes cigars, +reads novels, and runs away when +offered candy." Her quieter moments on +deck were passed in reading 'Dombey +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +and Son,' which, when finished, she +pronounced to be all wrong, "only one +really nice man in the book—Carker—and +he ought to have married Floey."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hugh Childers, then First Lord +of the Admiralty, was a passenger on +board our boat, and having with infinite +kindness and patience explained to the +child our daily progress with a big +chart spread on the deck and coloured +pins, was somewhat startled to see her +execute a <i>pas seul</i> over his precious +map and disappear down the nearest +gangway, with the remark, "My sakes, +Mr. Childers, how terribly frivolous +you are!"</p> + +<p>She had a youthful brother on board, +who, one day at dinner, astonished his +table by coolly saying, as he pointed +to a most inoffensive old lady dining +opposite to him, "Steward, take away +that woman, she makes me sick!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>A stout and amiable friend of +Flossie's, who shall be nameless in +these blameless records, on coming in +sight of land assumed, and I fear did it +very badly, some emotion at the first +sight of her great country, only to be +crushed by her immediate order, given +in the sight and hearing of some hundred +delighted passengers, "Sailor, give +this trembling elephant an arm, I guess +he's going to be sick!" Luckily for +him the voyage was practically over, +but for its small remnant he was known +to every one on board as the trembling +elephant.</p> + +<p>One day a pleasant little American +neighbour at dinner touched one's +sense of humour by naïvely saying, +"If you don't remove that nasty little +boiled hen in front of you, I know I +must be ill."</p> + +<p>Then there was a dull and solemn prig +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +on board, who at every meal gave us, +unasked, and <i>apropos des bottes</i>, some +tremendous facts and statistics to digest, +such as the number of shrimps eaten +each year in London, or how many +miles of iron tubing go to make the +Saltash bridge. Finding one morning +on his deck-chair, just vacated, a copy +of Whitaker's Almanack and a volume +of Mayhew's "London Labour and +the London Poor," we recognised the +source of his elucidations, and promptly +consigned his precious books to a +watery grave. Of that voyage, so far as +he was concerned, the rest was silence.</p> + +<p>Upon remarking to an American on +board that the gentleman in question +was rather slow, he brought down a +Nasmyth hammer with which to crack +his nut by saying, "Slow, sir; yes, he's +a big bit slower than the hour hand of +eternity!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> + +<p>I remember on another pleasant +voyage to Boston meeting and forming +lasting friendship with the late Judge +Abbott of that city, whose stories and +conversation were alike delightful. He +spoke of a rival barrister, who once +before the law courts, on opening his +speech for the defence of some notorious +prisoner, said, "Gentlemen, I shall +divide my address to you into three +parts, and in the first I shall confine +myself to the <i>Facts</i> of this case; +secondly, I shall endeavour to explain +the <i>Law</i> of this case; and finally, I +shall make an all-fired rush at your +passions!"</p> + +<p>It was Judge Abbott who told me +that when at the Bar he defended, and +successfully, a young man charged with +forging and uttering bank-notes for +large values. After going fully into the +case, he was entirely convinced of his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +client's innocence, an impression with +which he succeeded in imbuing the +court. After his acquittal, his client, to +mark his extreme sense of gratitude to +his counsel's ability, insisted upon paying +him double fees. The judge's +pleasure at this compliment became +modified, when it soon after proved +that the said fees were remitted in +notes undoubtedly forged, and for the +making of which he had just been +tried and found "not guilty!"</p> + +<p>Speaking one day of the general +ignorance of the people one met, he +very aptly quoted one of Beecher +Ward's witty aphorisms, "That it is +wonderful how much knowledge some +people manage to steer clear of." +Another quotation of his from the same +ample source, I remember especially +pleased me. Speaking of the morbid +manner in which many dwelt persistently +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +on the more sorrowful incidents +and accidents of their lives, he said, +"Don't nurse your sorrows on your +knee, but spank them and put them +to bed!"</p> + +<p>On one visit to the States I took a letter +of special commendation to the worthy +landlord of the Parker House Hotel +in Boston. On arriving I delivered my +missive at the bar, was told the good +gentleman was out, was duly allotted +excellent rooms, and later on sat down +with an English travelling companion +to an equally excellent dinner in the +ladies' saloon. In the middle of our +repast we saw a small Jewish-looking +man wending his way between the +many tables in, what is literally, the +marble hall, towards us. Standing +beside our table, and regarding us with +the benignant expression of an archbishop, +he carefully, though unasked, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +filled and emptied a bumper of our +well-iced Pommery Greno, saying, +"Now, gentlemen, don't rise, but my +name's Parker!"</p> + +<p>Upon a first visit to America few +things are more striking than the originality +and vigour of some of the advertisements. +One advocating the use of +some hair-wash or cream pleased us +greatly by the simple reason it gave for +its purchase, "that it was both elegant +and chaste." Another huge placard +represented our Queen Victoria arrayed +in crown, robes, and sceptre, drinking +old Jacob Townsend's Sarsaparilla out +of a pewter pint-pot. I also saw a +most elaborate allegorical design with +life-size figures, purporting to induce +you to buy and try somebody's tobacco. +I remember that a tall Yankee, supposed +to represent Passion, was smoking +the said tobacco in a very fiery and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +aggressive manner, that with one hand +he was binding Youth and Folly +together with chains, presumably for +refusing him a light, whilst with the +other he chucked Vice under the chin, +she having apparently been more amenable +and polite.</p> + +<p>To note how customs change, I one +day in New York entered a car in the +Broadway, taking the last vacant seat. +A few minutes, and we stopped again +to admit a stout negress laden with her +market purchases. The car was hot, +and I was glad to yield her my seat, and +stand on the cooler outside platform. +She took it with a wide grin, saying +with a dramatic wave of her dusky +paw, "You, sir, am a gentleman, de +rest am 'ogs!" a speech which would +not so many years ago have probably +cost her her life at the next lamppost.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> + +<p>A Washington doctor once told me +the following little story, which seems +to hold a peculiar humour of its own. +A country lad and lassie, promised +lovers, are in New York for a day's +holiday. He takes her into one of those +sugar-candy, preserved fruit, ice, and +pastry shops which abound, and asks +her tenderly what she'll have? She +thinks she'll try a brandied peach. The +waiter places a large glass cylinder +holding perhaps a couple of dozen of +them on their table, so that they may +help themselves. These peaches, be it +known, are preserved in a spirituous +syrup, with the whole kernels interspersed, +and are very expensive. To +the horror of the young man, the girl +just steadily worked her way through +the whole bottleful. Having accomplished +this feat without turning a +hair, she pauses, when the lover, in a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +delicate would-be sarcastic note, asks +with effusion, if she won't try another +peach? To which the girl coyly +answers, "No thank you, I don't like +them, the seeds scratch my throat!"</p> + +<p>As is well known, most of the waiters +and servants in American hotels are Irish. +Dining with a dear old Canadian friend +at the Windsor Hotel in New York, +we were particularly amused by the +quaint look and speech of the Irish +gentleman who condescended to bring +us our dinner. He had a face like an +unpeeled kidney potato, with twinkling +merry little blue eyes. Not feeling +well, I had prescribed for myself a +water diet during the meal, and hoped +my guest would atone for my shortcomings +with the wine. After he had +twice helped himself to champagne, +the while I modestly sipped my seltzer, +my waiter's indignation at what he +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +supposed was nothing less than base +treachery, found vent in the following +stage-aside to me: "Hev an oi, +sorr, on your frind, he's a-gaining +on ye!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_049.jpg" id="i_049.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_049.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> + <a name="i_050.jpg" id="i_050.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_050.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_IV" id="CHAT_IV">Chat No. 4.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Give them strength to brook and bear,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Trial pain, and trial care;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Let them see Thy saving light;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Be Thou 'Watchman of their night.'</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Sabbath Evening Song.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_017b.jpg" alt="Letter A"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">Armed</span> +with a special order +of the then Lord Mayor, Sir +Robert Nicholas Fowler, +I sallied forth one lovely +blue day in June, and timidly rang the +little brass bell beside the little green +door giving into Newgate Prison.</p> + +<p>The gaol is now only used to house +the prisoners on the days of trial, and +for executions on the days of expiation; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +at other times, save for the presence of +a couple of warders, it is entirely empty, +and empty it was on this my day of call.</p> + +<p>Presenting my mandate to the very +civil warder who replied to my summons, +I was (he having to guard the +door) handed to his colleague's care, +to be shown the mysteries of this great +silent tomb, lying so gloomily amid the +City's stir.</p> + +<p>The first point of interest was the +chapel, with that terribly suggestive +chair, standing alone in the centre of +the floor opposite the pulpit, on which +the condemned used to sit the Sunday +before his dreadful death, and, the observed +of all the other prisoners, heard +his own funeral sermon preached—a +refinement of cruelty difficult to understand +in this very Christian country. +Then followed a visit to the condemned +cells, two in number, and which are +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +situated far below the level of the outside +street. They are small square +rooms with whitewashed walls, enlivened +by one or two peculiarly ill-chosen +texts; in each is a fixed truckle +bedstead, with a warder's fixed seat on +either side. The warder in attendance +stated that he had passed many nights +in them with condemned prisoners, and +had rarely found his charges either restless +or unable to sleep well, long, and +calmly!</p> + +<p>There is an old story told of a murderer, +about whose case some doubt was +raised, and to whom the prison chaplain, +as he lay under sentence of death, +lent a Bible. In due course a free +pardon arrived, and as the prisoner left +the gaol, he turned to the chaplain +saying, "Well, sir, here's your Bible; +many thanks for the loan of it, and I +only hope I shall never want it again."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then we visited the pinioning room; +this process is carried out by strapping +on a sort of leather strait-waistcoat, +with buckles at the back and outside +sockets for the arms and wrists. While +putting on one of these, I found the +leather was cold and damp; it then +occurred to me, with some horror, that +it was still moist with the death-sweat +of the executed.</p> + +<p>The scaffold stands alone across one +of the yards, in a little wooden building +not inappropriately like a butcher's +shop. When used, the large shutter +in front is let down, and the interior is +seen to consist of a heavy cross-beam +on two uprights, a link or two of chain +in the middle, a very deep drop, with +padded leather sides to deaden the +sound of the falling platform, a covered +space on one side for the coffin, and on +the other a strong lever, such as is +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +used on railways to move the points, +and which here draws the bolt, releasing +the platform on which the culprit +stands; a high stool for the victim, +should he prove nervous or faint—and +that is all the furniture and fittings of +this gruesome building.</p> + +<p>The dark cell is perhaps the most +dreadful part of this peculiarly ghastly +show, and after being shut in it for a +few minutes, which seemed hours, one +fully understood its terrific taming +power over the most rebellious prisoners: +you are literally enveloped in a sort of +velvety blackness that can be felt, +which, with the absolute and awful +silence, seemed to force the blood to +the head and choke one.</p> + +<p>Upon asking the warder to tell us +something of the idiosyncrasies of the +more celebrated criminals he had known, +he stated that Wainright the murderer +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +was the most talkative, vain, and boastful +person he had seen there, that his +craving for tobacco was curiously extreme, +and he was immensely gratified +when the governor of the prison promised +him a large cigar the night before +his execution. The promise kept, he +walked up and down the yard with +the governor, detailing with unctuous +pleasure his youthful amours and deceptions, +like another Pepys. "But," +added my informant, "the pleasantest, +cheeriest man we ever had to hang in +my time was Dr. Lampson, full of fun +and anecdote, with nice manners that +made him friends all round. He was +outwardly very brave in facing his fate, +and yet, as he walked to the scaffold, +those behind him saw all the back +muscles writhing, working, and twitching +like snakes in a bag, and thus +belying the calm face and gentle smile +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +in front. Ah! we missed him very +much indeed, and were very sorry to +lose him. A real gentleman he was +in every way!"</p> + +<p>It was pleasant, and a vast relief after +this strange experience, to emerge suddenly +from this dream of mad, sad, bad +things into the roar of the City streets, +to see the blue sky, and find men's faces +looking once again pleasantly into our +own; but, nevertheless, Newgate should +be seen by the curious, and those who +can do so without coercion, before it +disappears.</p> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_056.jpg" id="i_056.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_056.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> + <a name="i_057a.jpg" id="i_057a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_057a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_V" id="CHAT_V">Chat No. 5.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>To all their dated backs he turns you round:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>These Aldus printed, those Du Sueil has bound.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Pope.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_057b.jpg" alt="Letter I"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">It</span> +is the present fashion to +extol the old bookbinders +at the expense of the +living, and for collectors +to give fabulous prices for a volume +bound by De Thou, Geoffroy Tory, +Philippe le Noir, the two Eves (Nicolas +and Clovis), Le Gascon, Derome, and +others.</p> + +<p>Beautiful, rare, and interesting as their +work is, I venture to say that we have +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +modern bookbinders in England and +France who can, and do, if you give +them plenty of time and a free hand +as to price, produce work as fine, as +original, as closely thought out, as +beautiful in design, material, and colour, +as that of any of the great masters of +the craft of olden days.</p> + +<p>For perfectly simple work of the best +kind, examine the bindings of the late +Francis Bedford; and his name reminds +me of a curious freak of the late Duke +of Portland in relation to this art. He +subscribed for all the ordinary newspapers +and magazines of the day, and +instead of consigning them to the waste-paper +basket when read, had them whole +bound in beautiful crushed morocco +coats of many colours by the said Bedford; +then he had perfectly fitting oaken +boxes made, lined with white velvet, and +fitted with a patent Bramah lock and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +duplicate keys, each box to hold one +volume, the total cost of thus habiting +this literary rubbish being about £40 +a volume. Bedford kept a special staff +of expert workmen upon this curious +standing order until the Duke died. By +his will he, unfortunately, made them +heirlooms, otherwise they would have +sold well as curiosities, many bibliophiles +liking to have possessed a volume +with so odd a history. Soon after the +Duke's death I went over the well-known +house in Cavendish Square with +my kind friend Mr. Woods of King +Street, and he showed me piles of these +boxes, each containing its beautifully +bound volume of uselessness.</p> + +<p>But to return to our sheepskins. I +would ask, where can you see finer +workmanship than Mr. Joseph W. +Zaehnsdorf puts into his enchanting +covers? He once produced two lovely +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +pieces of softly tanned, vellum-like +leather of the purest white colour, and +asked if I knew what they were. After +some ineffectual guesses, he stated that +the one with the somewhat coarser texture +was a man's skin, and the finer +specimen a woman's. The idea was +disagreeable, and I declined to purchase +or to have any volumes belonging to my +simple shelves clothed in such garments.</p> + +<p>An English bookbinder who made +a name in his day was Hayday; he +flourished (as the biographical dictionaries +are fond of saying) in the beginning +of the present reign. I possess +Samuel Rogers' "Poems" and "Italy," +in two quarto volumes, bound by him +very charmingly. In this size Turner's +drawings, which illustrate these two +books, are shown to admiration, and +alone galvanise these otherwise dreary +works. Hayday was succeeded by one +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +Mansell, who also did some good work; +but I think domestic affliction beclouded +his later years, and affected his business, +as I have lost sight of him for some +years.</p> + +<p>Among other English bookbinders +of the present day I would name Tout, +whose simple, Quaker-like work, with +Grolier tooling, is worth seeing. Mackenzie +was, in his day, a good old +Scotch binder; but the treasure I have +personally found and introduced to +many, is my excellent friend Mr. Birdsall +of Northampton. His specialty is +supposed to be in vellum bindings, which +material he manipulates with a grace +and finish very satisfactory to see. He +can make the hinges of a vellum-bound +book swing as easily as a friend's door. +He spares no time, thought, or trouble +in working out suitable designs for the +books entrusted to his care. For instance, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> +I possess Benjamin D'Israeli's +German Grammar, used by him when +a boy, and to bind it as he felt it deserved, +he specially cast a brass stamp, +with D'Israeli's crest, which, impressed +adown the back and on the panels, correctly +finishes this interesting memento. +Then, again, when he had Beau Brummell's +"Life" to work upon, he used +dies representing a poppy, as an emblem +flower, a money-bag, very empty, and +a teasel, signifying the hanger-on: these +show thought, as well as a pleasant +fancy, and greatly add to the interest +of the completed binding.</p> + +<p>I have some work by M. Marius +Michel, the great French binder, whose +show-cases in the Faubourg-Saint-Germain, +in Paris, were a treat to examine. +He was kind enough to let me one +fine day select and take therefrom two +volumes of E. A. Poe's works translated +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +and noted by Beaudelaire, beautifully +clothed by him; and he, at the same +visit, gave me an autograph copy of +his "L'Ornamentation des Reliures +Modernes," with which, when I returned +to England, I asked Mr. Birdsall to do +what he could. Set a binder to catch +a binder, was in this case our motto, +and Mr. Birdsall has, I think, fairly +caught out his great rival, although I +have not yet had an opportunity of +taking M. Michel's opinion upon the +Englishman's work.</p> + +<hr class="sect" /> + +<p>One of the leading characteristics of +the present day is its craze for work, +unceasing work, work early and late, +work done with a rush, destroying +nerves, and rendering repose impossible. +"Late taking rest and eating the bread of +carefulness" do not go together, the bread +being as a rule anything but carefully +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +consumed. R. L. Stevenson somewhere +says, "So long as you are a bit of a +coward, and inflexible in money matters, +you fulfil the whole duty of man," and +perhaps this is the creed of the present +race of over-workers. In the City of +London we see this hasting to be rich +brought to the perfection of a Fine Art +(with a capital F and a capital A).</p> + +<p>Charles Dickens, who always resolved +the wit of every question into a nutshell, +makes Eugene Wrayburn, in +"Our Mutual Friend," strenuously +object to being always urged forward +in the path of energy.</p> + +<p>"There's nothing like work," said +Mr. Boffin; "look at the bees!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," returned +Eugene, with a reluctant smile, "but +will you excuse my mentioning that I +always protest against being referred to +the bees? ... I object on principle, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +as a two-footed creature, to being constantly +referred to insects and four-footed +creatures. I object to being required +to model my proceedings according to +the proceedings of the bee, or the dog, +or the spider, or the camel. I fully +admit that the camel, for instance, is +an excessively temperate person; but +he has several stomachs to entertain +himself with, and I have only one."...</p> + +<p>"But," urged Mr. Boffin, "I said the +bee, they work."</p> + +<p>"Yes," returned Eugene disparagingly, +"they work, but don't you think they +overdo it? They work so much more +than they need—they make so much +more than they can eat—they are so +incessantly boring and buzzing at their +one idea till Death comes upon them—that +don't you think they overdo it?"</p> + +<p>Some time since I cut from the pages +of the <i>St. James' Gazette</i> the following +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +"Cynical Song of the City," which +pleasantly sets forth the present craze +for work, and again proves, like Dickens' +bee, that we rather overdo it:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"Through the slush and the rain and the fog,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">When a greatcoat is worth a king's ransom,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">To the City we jolt and we jog</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">On foot, in a 'bus, or a hansom;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">To labour a few years, and then have done,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">A capital prospect at twenty-one!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">There's a wife and three children to keep,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">With chances of more in the offing;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">We've a house at Earl's Court on the cheap,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And sometimes we get a day's golfing.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Well! sooner or later we'll have better fun;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">The heart is still hopeful at thirty-one.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">The boy's gone to college to-day,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">The girls must have ladylike dresses;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Thank goodness we're able to pay—</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">The business has had its successes;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">We must grind at the mill for the sake of our son.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Besides, we're still youngish at forty-one.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">It has come! We've a house in the shires,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">We're one of the land-owning gentry,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">The children have all their desires,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">But <i>we</i> must do more double-entry;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> + We must keep things together, no time left for fun,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Ah! had we been twenty—not fifty—one!</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">A Baronet! J.P.! D.L.!</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">But it means harder work, little pleasure;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">We must stick to the City as well,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Though we're tired and longing for leisure.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">We shall soon become toothless, dyspeptic, and done,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">As rich as the Bank, though we can't chew a bun,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And the gold-grubber's grave is the goal that we've won</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">At seventy—eighty—or ninety-one."</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + + +<hr class="sect" /> + +<p>Guests at Foxwold are given the opportunity, +when black Monday arrives, +of catching a most unearthly and uneasily +early train, which involves their +rising with anything but a lark, swallowing +a hurried breakfast, a mounting +into fiery untamed one-horse shays soon +after eight, and then being puffed away +through South-Eastern tunnels to the +busy hum of those unduly busy men of +whom we speak.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>To catch this early train, which +means that you "leave the warm precincts +of your cheerful bed, nor cast one +longing lingering look behind," some +of our friends most justly object, preferring +the early calm, the well-considered +uprisal, the dawdled breakfast, +and the ladies' train at the maturer hour +of 10.30. Our dear friend, Mr. Anstey +Guthrie, having firmly and most wisely +declined the early train and any consequent +worm, one very chilly morn, as +the early risers were starting for the +station, appeared at his chamber window +awfully arrayed in white, and muttering +with the fervour of another John +Bradford, "There goes Anstey Guthrie—but +for the grace of God," plunged +back into his rapidly cooling couch, +"and left the world to darkness and +to us."</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> + <a name="i_069a.jpg" id="i_069a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_069a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_VI" id="CHAT_VI">Chat No. 6.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent1_5">"<i>It's idle to repine, I know;</i></div> + <div class="verse"><i>I'll tell you what I'll do instead,</i></div> + <div class="verse"><i>I'll drink my arrowroot, and go</i></div> + <div class="verse indent3"><i>To bed.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—C. S. C.</div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_069b.jpg" alt="Letter M"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">My</span> +good and kind old friend +Robert Baxter, who now +rests from his labours, was, +during his long active life +in Westminster (dispensing law to the +rich and sharing its profits with the +poor), one of the most charitable and +hospitable of men.</p> + +<p>Occasionally, however, even his goodness +was taxed with such severity, as to +somewhat try his patience.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p> + +<p>The once well-known Mrs. X—— +of A——, a philanthropic but foolish +old woman, arrived late one evening, uninvited, +at his house in Queen's Square, +suffering from the first symptoms of +rheumatic fever. Calmly establishing +herself in the best guest-chamber, and +surrounded by the necessary maid, +nurse, and doctor, she turned her kind +host's dwelling into a private hospital +for many weeks. When at last she +reached the stage of convalescence, and +was allowed to take daily outings and +airings, Mr. Baxter's capital old butler, +Sage, had the privilege of carrying the +fair but weighty invalid downstairs to +the carriage, and upstairs to her rooms +once, and often twice, a day. No +small effort for any man's strength, +however athletic he might be, and +Sage, be it conceded, was a moderate +giant.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> + +<p>The weeks dragged themselves away, +and at last the welcome date for a final +flitting to her own home arrived. Sage +felt that he had well earned an extraordinary +douceur for all his labours, +and was not therefore surprised when +the good lady on leaving slipped into +his willing hand a suggestive looking +folded-up blue slip of paper instead of +the more limited gold. Retiring to +his pantry to satisfy his very natural +curiosity as to the amount of the vail +so fully deserved, his feelings may be +imagined, but not described, when he +found that instead of the expected +cheque, it was what, in evangelical +circles, is called a leaflet, bearing on +its face the following appropriate and +cheerful text: "Thou fool! this night +thy soul shall be required of thee!"</p> + +<p>Whilst upon the subject of misapplied +texts, another instance, touched +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +with a pleasant humour, occurs to me. +Many years ago I visited for the first +time an old friend and his wife in their +pleasant country house. Upon being +shown into what was evidently one of +the best guest-chambers, I was intensely +delighted to find over the mantelpiece +the following framed text, in large +illuminated letters: "Occupy till I +come!" Unprepared to make so long +a stay, I left on the Monday morning +following, and have no doubt the generous +invitation still remains to welcome +the coming guest.</p> + +<p>Another story of a like nature was +told us by Mr. Anstey Guthrie, and is +therefore worth repeating. He once +saw a long procession of happy school-children +going to some feast, headed +by a band of music and a standard-bearer. +The latter was staggering beneath +an immense banner, on which +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +was painted the Lion of Saint Mark's, +rampant, with mouth, teeth, and claws +ready and rapacious; underneath was +the singularly appropriate and happy +legend, "Suffer little children to come +unto Me."</p> + +<p>Another capital story from the same +source, which time cannot wither, nor +custom stale, is, that at some small +English seaside resort a spirited and +generous townsman has presented a +number of free seats for the parade, +each one adorned with an iron label +stating that "Mr. Jones of this town +presented these free seats for the public's +use, the sea is his, and he made it."</p> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_073.jpg" id="i_073.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_073.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter bord"><a name="BOOK_ROOM_1" id="BOOK_ROOM_1"></a> + <img src="images/i_077.jpg" + alt="Book Room: 1st view" /> +</div> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> + <a name="i_074a.jpg" id="i_074a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_074a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_VII" id="CHAT_VII">Chat No. 7.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Where are my friends? I am alone;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>No playmate shares my beaker:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Some lie beneath the churchyard stone,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>And some—before the Speaker:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>And some compose a tragedy,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>And some compose a rondo;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>And some draw sword for Liberty,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>And some draw pleas for John Doe.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">W. M. Praed.</span></div> +</div> + +<p class="center">"<i>All analysis comes late.</i>"—<span class="smcap">Aurora Leigh.</span></p> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_034b.jpg" alt="Letter T"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">The</span> +difficulty which has +existed since Lord Tennyson's +dramatic death, of +choosing a successor to +the Laureateship, has partly arisen +from the presence of so many minor +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +poets, and the absence, with one remarkable +exception, of any monarch +of song.</p> + +<p>The exception is, of course, Mr. +Swinburne, who stands alone as the +greatest living master of English verse. +The objections to his appointment may, +in some eyes, have importance, but time +has sobered his more erratic flights, +leaving a large residuum of fine work, +both in poetry and prose, which would +make him a worthy successor to any +of those gone before.</p> + +<p>Of the smaller fry, it is difficult to +prophesy which will hereafter come +to the front, and what of their work +may live.</p> + +<p>As Oliver Wendell Holmes so pathetically +says:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"Deal gently with us, ye who read!</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Our largest hope is unfulfilled;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">The promise still outruns the deed;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">The tower, but not the spire we build.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> + Our whitest pearl we never find;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Our ripest fruit we never reach;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">The flowering moments of the mind,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Lose half their petals in our speech."</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>The late Lord Lytton (Owen Meredith) +was very unequal in all he produced. +Perhaps the following ballad +from his volume of "Selected Poems," +published in 1894 by Longmans, is one +of the best and most characteristic he +has written:—</p> + +<p class="center">THE WOOD DEVIL.</p> + +<p class="center">1.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"In the wood, where I wander'd astray,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Came the Devil a-talking to me,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">O mother! mother!</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">But why did ye tell me, and why did they say,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">That the Devil's a horrible blackamoor? He</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Black-faced and horrible? No, mother, no!</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And how should a poor girl be likely to know</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">That the Devil's so gallant and gay, mother?</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">So gentle and gallant and gay,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">With his curly head, and his comely face,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And his cap and feather, and saucy grace,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Mother! mother!</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p class="center"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>II.</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And 'Pretty one, whither away?</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And shall I come with you?' said he.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">O mother! mother!</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And so winsome he was, not a word could I say,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And he kiss'd me, and sweet were his kisses to me,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And he kiss'd me, and kiss'd till I kiss'd him again,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And O, not till he left me I knew to my pain</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">'Twas the Devil that led me astray, mother!</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">The Devil so gallant and gay,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">With his curly head, and his comely face,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And his cap and feather, and saucy grace,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Mother! mother!"</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Edmund Gosse's work is always +scholarly and well thought out, framed +in easy, pleasant English. In some of +his poems he reminds one of the +"Autocrat of the Breakfast Table." +His song of the "Wounded Gull" is +very like Dr. Holmes, both in subject +and treatment:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"The children laughed, and called it tame!</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">But ah! one dark and shrivell'd wing</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Hung by its side; the gull was lame,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">A suffering and deserted thing.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> + With painful care it downward crept;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Its eye was on the rolling sea;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Close to our very feet, it stept</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Upon the wave, and then—was free.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Right out into the east it went</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Too proud, we thought, to flap or shriek;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Slowly it steered, in wonderment</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">To find its enemies so meek.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Calmly it steered, and mortal dread</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Disturbed nor crest nor glossy plume;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">It could but die, and being dead,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">The open sea should be its tomb.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">We watched it till we saw it float</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Almost beyond our furthest view;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">It flickered like a paper boat,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Then faded in the dazzling blue.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">It could but touch an English heart</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">To find an English bird so brave;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Our life-blood glowed to see it start</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Thus boldly on the leaguered wave."</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>A few fortunate persons possess copies +of Mr. Gosse's catalogue of his library, +and it is, I rejoice to say, on the Foxwold +shelves. It is a most charming +work, reflecting on every page, by many +subtle touches, the refined humour and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +wide knowledge of the collector. Mr. +Austin Dobson wrote for the final fly-leaf +as follows:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"I doubt your painful Pedants who</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Can read a dictionary through;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">But he must be a dismal dog,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Who can't enjoy this Catalogue!"</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Of the little mutual admiration and +log-rolling society, whose headquarters +are in Vigo Street, no serious account +need be taken. Time will deal with +these very minor poets, and whether +kindly or not, Time will prove. They +may possibly be able to await the verdict +with a serene and confident patience—and +so can we. An exception may +perhaps be made for some of Mr. Arthur +Symon's "Silhouettes," as the following +extract will show:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"Emmy's exquisite youth and her virginal air,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Eyes and teeth in the flash of a musical smile,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Come to me out of the past, and I see her there</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">As I saw her once for a while.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> + Emmy's laughter rings in my ears, as bright,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Fresh and sweet as the voice of a mountain brook,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And still I hear her telling us tales that night,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Out of Boccaccio's book.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">There, in the midst of the villainous dancing-hall,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Leaning across the table, over the beer,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">While the music maddened the whirling skirts of the ball,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">As the midnight hour drew near.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">There with the women, haggard, painted, and old,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">One fresh bud in a garland withered and stale,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">She, with her innocent voice and her clear eyes, told</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Tale after shameless tale.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And ever the witching smile, to her face beguiled,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Paused and broadened, and broke in a ripple of fun,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And the soul of a child looked out of the eyes of a child,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Or ever the tale was done.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">O my child, who wronged you first, and began</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">First the dance of death that you dance so well?</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Soul for soul: and I think the soul of a man</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Shall answer for yours in hell."</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Austin Dobson and the late Mr. +Locker-Lampson are perhaps the finest +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +writers of <i>vers de Société</i> since Praed; +whilst in the broader school of humour +C. S. Calverley, Mr. Dodgson (of +"Alice in Wonderland" fame), and the +late James Kenneth Stephen, stand alone +and unchallenged; and Mr. Watson, if +health serve, will go far; and so with +some pathetic words of one of these +moderns we will end this somewhat +aimless chat:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">"My heart is dashed with cares and fears,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">My song comes fluttering and is gone;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Oh, high above this home of tears,</div> + <div class="verse indent1">Eternal joy,—sing on."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_085.jpg" id="i_085.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_085.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> + <a name="i_086a.jpg" id="i_086a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_086a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_VIII" id="CHAT_VIII">Chat No. 8.</a></h2> + +<p class="blockquote center">"<i>Punch! in the presence of the passengers.</i>"</p> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_086b.jpg" alt="Letter W"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">Within</span> +the past year certain +gentle disputes and friendly +discussions as to the origin +of <i>Punch</i>, and who its +first real editor was, and whether or no +Henry Mayhew evolved it with the +help of suitable friends in a debtor's +prison, remind us that Foxwold possesses +some rather curious "memories" of this +famous paper.</p> + +<p>These disputes should now be put +to rest for ever by Mr. Spielmann's +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +exhaustive "History of Mr. Punch," +which, it may safely be supposed, appeared +with some sort of authority from +"Mr. Punch" himself.</p> + +<p>One of our "Odds and Ends" is a +kit-kat portrait in oil of Horace Mayhew, +"Ponny," excellent both as a +likeness and a work of art, which +should eventually find hanging space +in the celebrated <i>Punch</i> dining-room. +There is also a pencil drawing of him, +in which "the Count," as he was called, +is dressed in the smartest fashion of that +day, and crowned with a D'Orsay hat, +resplendent, original, and gay.</p> + +<p>He made a rather unhappy marriage +late in his life, and found that habits +from which he was not personally free +showed themselves rather frequently in +his wife's conduct. One day, in a state +of emotion and whisky and water, he +pressed Mark Lemon's hand, and, bursting +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +into tears, murmured, "My dear friend, +she drinks! she drinks!!" "All +right," was the editor's cheery reply, +"my dear boy; cheer up, so do you!"</p> + +<p>Near by hangs a characteristic pencil +sketch of Douglas Jerrold, who, if small, +was no hunchback (as has been lately +stated), but was a very neatly made, +active little man, with a grand head +covered with a profusion of lightish +hair, which he had a trick of throwing +back, like a lion's mane, and a pair of +bright piercing blue eyes. There is an +engraving of a bust of him prefixed to +his life (written by his son, Blanchard +Jerrold), which well conveys the nobility +of the well-set head. Then comes a +capital drawing of Kenny Meadows in +profile, and a thoroughly characteristic +Irish phiz it is.</p> + +<p>These pencil portraits are all from +the gifted hand of Mr. George Augustus +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +Sala, and formerly belonged to Horace +Mayhew himself. Mr. Sala, as is now +well known by means of his autobiography, +was once an artist and book-illustrator, +and Foxwold is the proud +possessor of the only picture in oil +extant from his brush. It is called +"Saturday Night in a Gin-Palace": +it is full of a Hogarthian power, and +by its execution, drawing, and colour +shows that had Mr. Sala made painting +his profession instead of literature, he +would have gone far and fared well. +The little picture is signed "G. A. +Sala," and was found many years ago in +an old house in Brompton, when the +present owner secured it for a moderate +sum, and then wrote to Mr. Sala asking +if the picture was authentic. A reply +was received by the next post, in the +beautiful handwriting for which he is +famous, and runs as follows:—-</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + <div class="margin-left-25 smcap"><span class="smcap">46 Mecklenburgh Square, W.C.</span>,</div> + <div class="right"><i>Tuesday, Twenty-fifth June 1878</i>.</div> + +<p><span class="smcap">Dear Sir,</span></p> + +<p>I beg to acknowledge receipt of +your courteous and (to me) singularly interesting +note.</p> + +<p>"Yes, the little old oil-picture of the +'Gin-Palace Bar' is mine sure enough. I +can remember it as distinctly as though it +had been painted yesterday. Great casks of +liquor in the background; little stunted +figures (including one of a dustman with a +shovel) in the foreground. Details executed +with laborious niggling minuteness; but the +whole work must be now dingy and faded +to almost total obscuration, since I remember +that in painting it I only used turpentine for +a medium, the spirit of which must have +long since 'flown,' and left the pigment flat +or 'scaly.'</p> + +<p>"The thing was done in Paris six-and-twenty +years ago (Ap. 1852), and being +brought to London, was sold to the late +Adolphus Ackermann, of the bygone art-publishing +firm of Ackermann & Co., 96 +Strand (premises now occupied by E. +Rimmel, the perfumer), for the sum of five +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> +pounds. I hope that you did not give more +than a few shillings for it, for it was a vile +little daub. I was at the time when I produced +it an engraver and lithographer, and +I believe that Mr. Ackermann only purchased +the picture with a view to encourage me to +'take up' oil-painting. But I did not do so. +I 'took up' literature instead, and a pretty +market I have brought my pigs to! At all +events, <i>you</i> possess the only picture in oil +extant from the brush of</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Yours very faithfully,</p> +<div class="right"><span class="smcap">George Augustus Sala</span>."</div> +<p><i>To</i> <span class="smcap">H. N. Pym</span>, Esq.</p> +</div> + +<p class="topspacing1">When Mr. Sala afterwards called to +see the picture, he altered his mind as +to its being "a vile little daub," and +found the colours as fresh and bright as +when painted. We greatly value it, if +only as the cause of a lasting friendship +it started with the artist.</p> + +<p>His own portrait by Vernet, in pen +and ink, now graces our little gallery; +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +it is a back view, taken amidst his +books, and a most characteristic and +excellent likeness of this accomplished +and versatile gentleman.<a name="fnanchor_1" id="fnanchor_1"></a> +<a href="#footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<p>One of our guest-chambers is solemnly +dedicated to the honour and glory of +"Mr. Punch," and on its walls hang +some original oil sketches by John +Leech, drawings by Charles Keene, Mr. +Harry Furniss, Randolph Caldecote, Mr. +Bernard Partridge, Mr. Anstey Guthrie, +and Mr. Du Maurier; whilst kindly +caricatures of some of the staff, and a +print of the celebrated dinner-table, +signed by the contributors, complete the +decoration of a very cheery little room.</p> + +<h2>FOOTNOTE:</h2> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<p class="footnote"> <a name="footnote_1" +id="footnote_1"></a><a href="#fnanchor_1"> +<span class="label">[1]</span></a> +Whilst these pages are passing through the press, George Augustus +Sala has been mercifully permitted to rest from his labours. An +unfortunate adventure with a new paper brought about serious troubles, +physical and financial, and ended his useful and hard-working life +in gloom: as Mr. Bancroft (a mutual friend) observed to the editor +of this volume, "It is so sad when the autumn of such a life is +tempestuous."--<i>December 8, 1895.</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> + <a name="i_093.jpg" id="i_093.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_093.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_IX" id="CHAT_IX">Chat No. 9.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Then be contented. Thou hast got</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>The most of heaven in thy young lot;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>There's sky-blue in thy cup!</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Thou'lt find thy Manhood all too fast—-</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Soon come, soon gone! and Age at last,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>A sorry breaking-up.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—-<span class="smcap">Thomas Hood.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_057b.jpg" alt="Letter I"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">It</span> +was my good fortune some short time since to +revisit that most educational of English towns, +Bedford, and having many years ago +had the extreme privilege of being a +Bedford schoolboy, I was able to draw +a comparison between then and now.</p> + +<p>In the good old days these admirable +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +schools were managed in the good old +way—plenty of classics, plenty of swishing, +plenty of cricket and boating, and +plenty of holidays. We sometimes +turned out boys who afterwards made +their mark in the big world, and the +School Registers are proud to contain +the names of such men as Burnell, the +Oriental scholar, who out-knowledged +even Sir William Jones in this respect; +Colonel Fred. Burnaby, brave soldier +and attractive travel writer; Inverarity, +the lion-hunter and crack shot; Sir +Henry Hawkins, stern judge and brilliant +wit, and many others of like +degree. Nor must we forgot that John +Bunyan here learnt sufficient reading +and writing to enable him in after years +to pen his marvellous Book during his +imprisonment in Bedford Gaol, which +was then situated midway on the bridge +over the river Ouse.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p> + +<p>In that wonderful monument to the +courage and enterprise of Mr. George +Smith (kindest of friends and best of +publishers), "The National Dictionary +of Biography," the record is frequent +of men who owed their education and +perhaps best chance in the life they +afterwards made a success, to Bedford +School, but,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"Long hushed are the chords that my boyhood enchanted,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">As when the smooth wave by the angel was stirred,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Yet still with their music is memory haunted,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And oft in my dreams are their melodies heard."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<p>But if the good old School was a +success in those bygone days, what +must be said for it now, when, under +the Napoleon-like administration of its +present chief, the school-house has been +rebuilt in its own park, upon all the +best and latest known principles of +comfort and sanitation, where a boy +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +can, besides going through the full +round of usual study, follow the bent +of his own peculiar taste, and find +special training, whether it be in horse-shoeing +or music, chemistry or wood-carving, +ambulance work or drawing +from the figure; whilst the beautiful +river is covered with boats, the cricket-fields +and football yards are crowded, +and the bathing stations are a constant +joy?</p> + +<p>Truly the present generation of Bedford +boys are much blessed in their +surroundings; and whilst they remember +with gratitude the pious founder, +Sir William Harper, should strive to +do credit to his name and memory by +the exercise of their powers in the +battle of after-life, having received so +thorough and broad-minded a training +in the happy and receptive days of +their youth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p> + +<p>Bedford town is now one of the most +strikingly attractive in England, with +its fine river embankment, its grand +old churches, its statues erected to the +memory of the "inspired tinker," Bunyan, +and the prison philanthropist, +Howard, both of whom lived about a +mile or so from the town, the former +at Elstow, the latter at Cardington. +It was very good and heart-restoring to +revisit the hospitable old school with +its pleasant surroundings and to find, as +Robert Louis Stevenson says, that,—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"Home from the Indies, and home from the ocean,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Heroes and soldiers they all shall come home;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Still they shall find the old mill-wheel in motion,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Turning and churning that river to foam."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p>Since printing our last little "Tour +Round the Bookshelves," in which we +ventured to include some capital lines +by our evergreen and many-sided +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +friend Rudolf Chambers Lehmann, he +has again added to the interest of our +Visitors' Book under the following circumstances. +Guests and home-birds +were all resting after the exhausting +idleness of an Easter holiday when they +were suddenly aroused from their day-dreams +by loud cries of "Fire!" accompanied +by the sound of horses and +chariots approaching the house at full +speed. On looking out, like Sister Anne +or a pretty page, we were able to +assuage our guests' natural alarm by +explaining that the local fire brigade +were practising upon our vile bodies +and dwelling, and if fear existed, danger +did not. On their ultimately retiring, +satisfied with their mock efforts, and +fortified by beer, our welcome guest +wrote with his usual flying pen the +following characteristic lines to commemorate +their visit:—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center">"FIRE! FIRE!!"</p> + +<p class="center">(AN EASTER MONDAY INCIDENT.)</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"A day of days, an April day;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Cool air without, and cloudless sun;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Within, upon the ordered tray,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Cakes, and the luscious Sally-Lunn.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Since Pym has walked, and Guthrie climbed</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">To rob some feathered songster's nest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Their toil needs tea, the hour has chimed—</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Pour, lady, pour, and let them rest.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">But hark! what sound disturbs their tea,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And clatters up the carriage drive?</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">A dinner guest? it cannot be;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">No, no, the hour is only five.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">What sight is this the fates disclose,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">That breaks upon our startled view?</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Two horses, countless yards of hose,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Nine firemen, and an engine too.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Where burns the fire? Tush, 'tis but sport;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">The horses stop, the men descend,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Take hoses long, and hoses short,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And fit them deftly end to end.</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Attention! lo their chieftain calls—</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">They run, they answer to their names,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And hypothetic water falls</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">In streams upon imagined flames.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> + Well done, ye braves, 'twas nobly done;</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Accept, the peril past, our thanks;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Though all your toil was only fun,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And air was all that filled your tanks:</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">No, not for nought you came and dared,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Return in peace, and drink your fill;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">It was, as Mrs. Pym declared,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">'A highly interesting drill.'"</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> +<p class="blockquote"><i>April 3, 1893.</i></p> + +<p class="topspacing1">Another poet whose pen sometimes +gilds our modest Record of Angels' +Visits, is a well-beloved cousin, Harry +Luxmoore by name, at Eton known so +well. His Christmas greeting for 1890 +shall here appear, and prove to him +how deep is Foxwold's affectionate +obligation for wishes so delightfully +expressed:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">"Glooms overhead a frozen sky,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Rings underfoot a snow-ribbed earth,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Yet somewhere slumbering sunbeams lie,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And somewhere sleeps the coming birth.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Folded in root and grain is lying,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">The bud, the bloom we soon may see,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And in the old year now a-dying</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Is hid the new year that shall be.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> + O what if snows be deep? so shrouded</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Matures the soil with promise rife</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And sap, for all the skies be clouded,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Ripens at heart a lustier life.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Then welcome winter—while we shiver</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Strength harbours deeper, and the blast</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Of sounder, manlier force the giver</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Strips off betimes our withered past.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Come bud and bloom, come fruit and flower,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Come weal, come woe, as best may be,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Still may the New Year's hidden dower</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Be good for you and Horace, and all the little ones, and good for me."</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_101.jpg" id="i_101.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_101.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> + <a name="i_102.jpg" id="i_102.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_102.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_X" id="CHAT_X">Chat No. 10.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>My ears are deaf with this impatient crowd:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Their wants are now grown mutinous and loud.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Dryden.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_034b.jpg" alt="Letter T"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">The</span> +The following graphic account +of the rising in +Paris in 1848 was written +by John Poole to Charles +Dickens, and was recently found amongst +the papers of Mrs. John Forster, the +widow of the well-known writer, +Dickens' friend and biographer, and +is, I think, worthy of print.</p> + +<p>John Poole was a sometime celebrated +character, having written that +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +evergreen play "Paul Pry," as well as +"Little Pedlington," and other humorous +works mostly now forgotten.</p> + +<p>As he grew old poverty came to bear +him company, and was only prevented +from causing him actual suffering by +the usual generosity of Dickens and +other members of that charmed circle, +further aided by a small Government +grant, obtained for him by the same +faithful friend from Lord John Russell.</p> + +<p>The letter is addressed to</p> + +<p>CHARLES DICKENS, Esq.,</p> +<p class="margin-left-25 smcap">No. 1 Devonshire Terrace,</p> +<p class="margin-left-50"><span class="smcap">York Gate, Regent's Park</span></p> +<p class="right">LONDON,</p> + +<p>and deals with the celebrated uprisal +of the French mob, when a force of +75,000 regulars and nearly 200,000 +National Guards was massed round +Paris to resist it. The carnage was +terrible, some 8000 persons being killed +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +on both sides, and 14,000 insurgents +made prisoners.</p> + +<p>It was only by General Cavaignac's +firmness and tactful management under +Lamartine's directions, that the mob was +reduced and the Republican Government +established. The general was +afterwards nearly elected President of the +French Republic, receiving 1,448,000 +votes, but Prince Louis Napoleon beat +him, and, as history tells, held the reins +in various capacities for the next twenty +eventful years.</p> + +<p>Poole's letter, as that of an eye-witness, +gives a remarkably clear impression +of the scene as it appeared in +his orbit. Dickens, on receiving it, +evidently sent it the round of his +friends, and it then remained in John +Forster's possession until his death.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquote"> + <p class="right topspacing2">"(<span class="smcap"> + Paris</span>), <i>Saturday, 8 Jul 1848</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Dickens</span>,</p> + +<p>I wrote to you through the Embassy +on the 22nd June, giving you an address for +the three last Dombeys, and enclosing a catalogue +of the ex-King's wine; and on the +16th I sent you a word in a letter to Macready. +Dombeys not yet arrived, and I shall +wait no longer to acknowledge their arrival +(as I have been doing), but at once proceed +to give you a few lines. Since the day of +my writing to you I have lived four years: +Friday (the 23rd), Saturday, Sunday, Monday, +each a year.</p> + +<p>"The proceedings of the three days of +February were mere child's-play compared +with these. Never shall I forget them, for +they showed me scenes of blood and death. +Friday morning the '<i>rappel</i>' was beat—always +a disagreeable hint. Presently I heard +discharges of musketry, then they beat the +'<i>générale</i>.' My <i>concierge</i> ran into my +room, and, with a long white face, told me +the mob had erected huge barricades in the +Faubourg-Saint-Denis, and above, down to +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +the Porte St. Denis, and that tremendous +fighting was going on there. (The Porte +St. Denis bears marks of the fray.) 'Then, +Madame Blanchard,' I said, 'as you seem to +be breaking out again, I shall take a <i>sac-de-nuit</i>, +and say adieu to you till you shall +have returned to your good behaviour.'—'But +monsieur could not get away for love +or money—the insurgents have possession of +the Chemin de Fer, and had torn up the +rails as far as St. Denis.' This was what +she had been told, so I went out to ascertain +the fact.</p> + +<p>"Impossible to approach that quarter, +and difficult to turn the corner of a street +without interruption—groups of fifteen, +twenty, thirty, fifty, in blouses, dotted all +about. Towards evening matters seemed +rather more tranquil, and between six and +seven o'clock I contrived (though not easily) +to make my way to Sestels, in the Rue St. +Honoré (one of the very best of the second-rate +restaurateurs in Paris, 'which note'). +The large saloon was filled with men in +uniform, National Guards chiefly, and only +two women there. I was there about an +hour, and in that time three dead bodies +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +were carried past on covered litters. It was +thought the disturbances were pretty well +over, as a powerful body of troops had been +ordered down to the scene of action.</p> + +<p>"At about eight o'clock I went out for +the purpose of making a visit in the Rue +d'Enghien, but found the whole width of +the Boulevard Montmartre, which, as you +know, leads to the Boulevard St. Denis, +defended by a compact body of National +Guards—impassable! Between nine and ten +o'clock three regiments of cavalry, with +cannon—a long, long procession—marched +in the direction of the scene of insurrection. +This was a comforting sight, and as such +everybody seemed to consider it, and I went +home. And this was Midsummer Eve!—Walpurgis +Night!</p> + +<p>"The next day, Saturday, Midsummer Day, +I never shall forget! Sleep had been hopeless—the +night had been disturbed by the +frequent beating of the '<i>générale</i>' and the +cry '<i>Aux Armes!</i>' Every now and then I +looked up at the sky, expecting to see it red +from some direful conflagration. Day came, +and soon the firing of musketry was heard, +now from the direction of the Faubourg-Saint-Antoine, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +now from the Faubourg-Saint-Marceaux. +Then came the heavy booming of +cannon—death in every echo! From twelve +till nearly one, and again after a pause, it +was dreadful. (I cannot make 'fun' of this, +like the facetious correspondent of the +<i>Morning Post</i>. Who is he? Surely he +must be an ex-reporter for the Cobourg +Play-house, with his vulgar, ill-timed play-house +quotations. I am utterly disgusted +and revolted at the tasteless levity with which +he describes scenes of blood and destruction +and death, and so treats of matters, all of +which require grave and sober handling. +And then he describes, as an eye-witness, +things which, happen though they did, I am +certain he could not have been present to see.)</p> + +<p>"Well, as we were soon to be in a state +of siege, and strictly confined to home, I can +tell you nothing but what I saw here on this +very spot. One event is a remembrance for +life. In this house lived General de Bourgon, +one of what they call the 'old Africans.' +In the course of the morning General Korte +(another of them) called on him, and said, +'I dare say Cavaignac has plenty to do. I will +go and ask him if we can be of any service +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +to him. If we can, I will send for you, so +keep yourself in the way.' He was in Paris +'on leave,' and had no horse with him, so he +sent Blanchard (the <i>concierge</i>) to the <i>manège</i>, +which is in the next street, to inquire whether +they had a horse that would 'stand fire.' +Yes; but they would not let it go out. The +next message intimated that they must send +it, or it would be taken by force. At about +two o'clock, going out, I met, coming out of +his apartments on the second floor (I, you +know, am on the fourth), General de Bourgon, +in plain clothes, accompanied by his wife and +his sister-in-law—the latter a very beautiful +woman, somewhat in the style of Mrs. Norton. +As usual, we exchanged <i>bon-jours</i> in passing. +I went as far as the boulevard at the +end of the street. There was a strong guard +at the 'Hôtel des Affaires Étrangères,' and +there I was stopped. An officer of the +National Guard asked me whether I was +proceeding in the direction of my residence. +Answering in the negative, he said (but +with great courtesy), 'Then, sir, I advise +you to return; it is in your interest I do +so; besides' (pointing in the direction +where was heard a heavy firing), 'd'ailleurs, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +monsieur, ce n'est pas aujourd'hui un jour de +promenade.'</p> + +<p>"I returned, and tried by the Place Vendôme, +but about half-way up the Rue de la +Paix was again stopped. After loitering +about for an hour, and unable to get anything +in the shape of positive information, +I returned home. Shortly after three I saw +the General de Bourgon in full uniform, and +on horseback. He proceeded a few paces, +stopped to have one of his stirrup-leathers +adjusted, and then, followed by an orderly, +went off at a brisk trot. Soon afterwards a +guard was placed in the middle and at each +end of this street; no one was allowed to +loiter, or to quit it but with good reason, +and only then was passed on by one sentinel +to the next, so from that moment I was not +out of the house till Monday morning.</p> + +<p>"At about half-past six the street—usually +a noisy one—being perfectly still, I heard the +measured tramp of feet approaching from +the direction of the boulevard. I went to +the window, and saw about fifteen or eighteen +soldiers, some bearing, and the rest +guarding, a litter, on which was stretched a +wounded officer. He was bare-headed, his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +black stock had been removed, his coat +thrown wide open, and over his left thigh +was spread a soldier's grey greatcoat. To +my horror the procession stopped at this +door. It was the General brought home +desperately wounded! I ran down and saw +him brought up to his apartment, crying out +with agony at every shake he received on the +winding, slippery staircase. On the following +Friday (the 30th), at eleven o'clock at +noon, after severe suffering, he died. In the +course of the day I saw him; his neck was +uncovered, and the eyes open (a painter had +been making a sketch of him)—he looked +like one in placid contemplation. Previously +to the fatal result, at one of my frequent +visits of inquiry, I saw Madame de Bourgon +(the sister-in-law). She replied mournfully, +but without apparent emotion, 'We are in +hopes they will be able to perform the amputation +to-morrow.' (They could not.) +'But see! he has passed his life, as it were, +on the field of battle—twelve years in Africa—and +to fall in this way! But it was his +duty to go out.'</p> + +<p>"'And, madame, how is she?'</p> + +<p>"'Eh, mon Dieu, monsieur! how would +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +you have her be? But a soldier's wife must +be prepared for these things.'</p> + +<p>"(She, the sister-in-law, is the wife of the +general's brother, Colonel de Bourgon.) +His friend, General Korte, too, was wounded, +but not dangerously.</p> + +<p>"In all the African campaigns only two +generals were killed, in these street fights +six! But the insurgents fought at tremendous +advantage. On that said Saturday +afternoon two incidents occurred, trifling if +you will, but they struck me. A large +flight of crows passed over, taking a direction +towards the prison of St. Lazare, showing +that fighting was murderous; and a +rainbow (one of the most beautiful I ever +saw) rested like an arch on the line of roof +of the opposite houses. Beneath it seemed +to come the noise of the fight; the sign of +peace and the sounds of war and death. Mrs. +Norton could make a verse or two out of +this. This was Midsummer's Day!</p> + +<p>"Our Midsummer Night's dreams were +not pleasant, believe me. No—there was +no sleep on that night—a night of terrible +anxiety. Paris was in a state of siege—no +one allowed to be out of the house, nor a +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +window permitted to be opened. All night +was heard in ceaseless round, from the sentinel +under my very window—'Sentinelle +prenez garde à vous.' I can hardly describe +by words the peculiar tone in which this +was uttered, but the syllable 'nelle' was +accented, and the word 'vous' was uttered +briskly and sharply, like a sort of bark. +This was given <i>fortissimo</i>—repeated by the +next <i>forte</i>—beyond him, <i>piano</i>—further on, +<i>pianissimo</i>—till it returned, louder and +louder, and then died away again, and so +on, and on, and on till daybreak. Then +was beat the '<i>rappel</i>'—then the '<i>générale</i>'—then +again the firing.</p> + +<p>"This was Sunday morning, and from five +o'clock till ten at night was not the happiest, +but the longest day of my life. Any sort of +occupation was out of the question. Each +hour appeared a day. Impossible to get out, +or to receive a visit, or to send a message, +or to procure any reliable information as to +what was going on, or how or when these +doings were likely to end. All was doubt, +uncertainty, dread and anxiety intolerable. +The only information to be procured was +from the bearers of some wounded men as +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +they passed now and then to the Ambulance +(the temporary hospital established at the +Church of the Assumption). But no two +accounts were alike. I was suffering deep +anxiety concerning a good kind French family +of my acquaintance, living within a five +minutes' walk of this place. 'Could I by +any possibility procure a commissionaire to +carry a note for me? I'll give him five +francs (the hire being ten sous).' 'Not, +sir,' said my <i>concierge</i>, 'if you would give +a hundred!' The poor general wanted +some soldiers from the barracks (next to the +Assumption) to carry an order for him. +After great difficulty the wife of the <i>concierge</i> +was allowed to go and fetch one; but +she was searched for ammunition by the first +sentinel, and then passed on thus and back +again from one to another. No post in—no +letters—no newspapers. At length, at a +month's end, night came. That night like +the last—'Sentinelle prenez garde à vous,' +&c. &c.</p> + +<p>"On Monday morning (26th), after a +sleepless night—for, for any means we had +of knowing to the contrary, the insurgents +might at any moment be expected to attack +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +this quarter, a quarter marked down by +them for fire and pillage—at about eight +o'clock, I lay down on a sofa and slept +soundly till ten; I awoke, and was struck by +the appalling silence! This is a noisy street. +Always from about seven in the morning till +late in the day one's head is distracted by +the shrill cries of itinerant traders (to these +are now added the cries of the vendors of +cheap newspapers), the passage of carriages +and carts of all descriptions, street-singers, +organ-grinders endless, the screeching of +parrots and barking of dogs exposed for sale +by a <i>grocer</i> on the opposite side of the way, +together with the swarming of his and his +neighbour's dirty children—all was hushed; +not a footfall, 'not (a line that is not +often applicable here) a drum was heard.' +Yes, I repeat it, this universal silence was +appalling! Not a person, save the still +guards on duty, was to be seen. The shops +were all closed, and, but for this circumstance, +it seemed like a Sunday! Strange! +(and I find it was the same with many other +persons to whom I have mentioned the circumstance) +I was uncertain during these +anxious days as to the day of the week. At +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +about eleven o'clock the <i>concierge</i> came to +tell me that the insurrection was at an end. +In less than an hour there was heard a sharp +fusillade and a heavy cannonade in the direction +of the Faubourg-Saint-Antoine. The +insurgents had strengthened themselves at that +point (she came to say), but that, so far as +she could learn, General Cavaignac had at +length resolved, by bombarding the <i>quartier</i>, +to suppress the insurrection before the day +should end. <i>And he did!</i></p> + +<p>"Frequently during the day parties of +tired soldiers, scarcely able to walk, passed on +their way from the scene of action to their +barracks or their bivouac; wounded men +were every now and then brought to the +Ambulance close by—one a Cuirassier, who, +as the guard saluted him, smiled faintly, and +just raised his hand in sign of recognition, +which fell again at his side; and, most striking +of all, bands of prisoners from among +the insurgents!! Among them such hideous +faces! scarcely human! No one knows +whence they come. Like the stormy petrel, +they only are seen in troubled times. I saw +some such in the days of February, but never +before, nor afterwards, till now. Imagine +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +O. Smith, well "made-up" for one of the +bloodiest and most melodramatic of his bloody +melodramas—a Parisian dandy compared +with some of these. Some of them naked to +the waist, smeared with blood, hair and beard +matted and of incalculable growth, bloodshot +eyes, scowling ferocious brutes, their +tigers' mouths blackened with gunpowder—creatures +to look at and shudder! And +into their hands was Paris and its peaceable +honest inhabitants threatened to fall. With +this I end.</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Ever, my dear Dickens,</p> +<p class="margin-left-50">Cordially and sincerely yours,</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">John Poole</span>.</p> + +<p class="topspacing1">"I began this on Saturday, and have been +writing it, as best as I can, till now, Tuesday, +three o'clock. Pray acknowledge the receipt +when or if you receive it. This is a general +letter to you all. If Forster thinks any +paragraph of this worthy the <i>Examiner</i>, he +may use it. Why does not the rogue write +to me? Has he, or can he have, taken huff +at anything? though I cannot imagine why +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +or at what. But <i>nobody</i> writes to me. I can +and will, some day, tell you a comic incident +connected with all this, but it would not +have been in keeping with the rest of this +letter. Paris is now quiet, but very dull."</p> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_118.jpg" id="i_118.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_118.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> + <a name="i_119a.jpg" id="i_119a.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_119a.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_XI" id="CHAT_XI">Chat No. 11.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">"<i>All round the house is the jet black night;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>It stares through the window-pane;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>And it moves with the moving flame</i>.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Now my little heart goes a-beating like a drum,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>With the breath of the Bogie in my hair;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>And all round the candle the crooked shadows come</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>And go marching along up the stair.</i></div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the lamp,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>The shadow of the child that goes to bed—</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, tramp,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent1_5"><i>With the black night overhead.</i>"</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">R. L. Stevenson.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_119b.jpg" alt="Letter O"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">On</span> +the beautiful rocks of Red Head, near Arbroath, +and surrounded by the glamour of Sir Walter +Scott's "Antiquary," which was written +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +in the alongside village of Auchmithie, +and the plot and incidents of which are +principally placed here, stands Ethie +Castle, the Scotch home of the Earls of +Northesk, and once one of the many +residences of Cardinal Beaton, whose +portrait by Titian hangs in the hall.</p> + +<p>Many of the quaint old rooms have +secret staircases at the bed-heads leading +to rooms above or below, and forming +convenient modes of escape if the +occupants of the middle chambers were +threatened with sudden attack. There +are also some dungeon-like rooms +below, with walls of vast thickness, and +"squints" through which to fire arrows +or musket-balls. The castle has been +greatly improved and partly restored +by its last owner, without removing +or destroying any of its characteristic +points.</p> + +<p>Searching, when a guest there some +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +years ago, amongst the literary and other +curious remains, which add a great +charm to this most interesting house, +the writer was impressed with the +following characteristic letter from +Charles II. to the then Lord Northesk, +which he was permitted to copy, and +now to print. The letter is curious, as +showing the evident belief that the +King held in his Divine right to interfere +with his subjects' affairs.</p> + +<p>It is a holograph, beautifully written +in a small clear hand—-not unlike that +of W. M. Thackeray—-and has been +fastened with a seal, still unbroken, no +larger than a pea, but which nevertheless +contains the crown and complete +royal arms, and is a most beautiful +specimen of seal-engraving. It would +be interesting to know if this seal still +exists amongst the curiosities at Windsor +Castle:—-</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Whitehall</span>, 20 <i>Nov</i>. 1672.</p> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Lord Northesk</span>,<br /> + +I am so much concerned in my +L<sup>d</sup> Balcarriess that, hearing he is in suite of +one of your daughters, I must lett you know, +you cannot bestow her upon a person of +whose worth and fidelity I have a better +esteeme, which moves me hartily to recommend +to you and your Lady, your franck +compliance with his designe, and as I do +realy intend to be very kinde to him, and to +do him good as occasion offers, as well for +his father's sake as his owne, so if you and +your Lady condescend to his pretension, and +use him kindly in it, I shall take it very +kindly at your hands, and reckon it to be +done upon the accounte of</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Your affectionate frinde,</p> + +<p class="right smcap">Charles R."</p> + +<p><i>For the</i> <span class="smcap">Earle of Northesk</span>.</p> +</div> + + +<p class="topspacing1">Looking at the fine portrait of the +recipient of this royal request, which +hangs in the castle, and the stern, unrelenting +expression of the otherwise +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +handsome face, it is not difficult to presume +that he somewhat resented this +interference with his domestic plans. +No copy of Lord Northesk's reply +exists, but its contents may be guessed +by the second letter from Whitehall, +this time written by Lord Lauderdale:—</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="right">"<span class="smcap">Whitehall</span>, 18 <i>Jany</i>. 1673.</p> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My Lord</span>,<br /> +Yesterday I received yours of the +7th instant, and, according to your desire, I +acquainted the King with it. His Majesty +commanded me to signify to you that he is +satisfied. For as he did recommend that +marriage, supposing that it was acceptable to +both parties, so he did not intend to lay any +constraint upon you. Therfor he leaves you +to dispose of your daughter as you please. +This is by His Majesty's command signified +to your Lordship by,</p> + +<p class="margin-left-10">My Lord,</p> +<p class="margin-left-25">Your Lordship's most humble servant,</p> +<p class="right smcap">Lauderdale."</p> +<p class="smcap">Earl Northesk.</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> + +<p class="topspacing1">As, however, the marriage eventually +did take place, let us hope that the +young couple arranged it themselves, +without any further expression of Royal +wishes by the evidently well-meaning, +if somewhat imperative, King.</p> + +<p>Ethie has, of course, its family legends +and ghosts—what old Scotch house is +without them?—but the following, +which I am most kindly permitted to +repeat, is so curious in its modern +confirmation, that it is well worth +adding to the store of such weird +narratives.</p> + +<p>Many years ago, it is said that a +lady in the castle destroyed her young +child in one of the rooms, which afterwards +bore the stigma of the association. +Eventually the room was closed, +the door screwed up, and heavy wooden +shutters were fastened outside the +windows. But those who occupied the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +rooms above and below this gruesome +chamber would often hear, in the +watches of the night, the pattering of +little feet over the floor, and the sound +of the little wheels of a child's cart +being dragged to and fro; a peculiarity +connected with this sound being, that +one wheel creaked and chirruped as it +moved. Years rolled by, and the room +continued to bear its sinister character +until the late Lord Northesk succeeded +to the property, when he very wisely +determined to bring, if possible, the +legend to an end, and probe the +ghostly story to its truthful or fictitious +base.</p> + +<p>Consequently he had the outside +window shutters removed, and the +heavy wall-door unscrewed, and then, +with some members of his family +present, ordered the door to be forced +back. When the room was open and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +birds began to sing, it proved to be +quite destitute of furniture or ornament. +It had a bare hearth-stone, on which +some grey ashes still rested, and by the +side of the hearth was a child's little +wooden go-cart on four solid wooden +wheels!</p> + +<p>Turning to his daughter, my lord +asked her to wheel the little carriage +across the floor of the room. When +she did so, it was with a strange sense +of something uncanny that the listeners +heard one wheel creak and chirrup as +it ran!</p> + +<p>Since then the baby footsteps have +ceased, and the room is once more +devoted to ordinary uses, but the +ghostly little go-cart still rests at Ethie +for the curious to see and to handle. +Many friends and neighbours yet +live who testify to having heard the +patter of the feet and the creak of +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +the little wheel in former days, when +the room was a haunted reality, but +now the</p> + +<div class="center">"Little feet no more go lightly,</div> +<div class="margin-left-50">Vision broken!"</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_127.jpg" id="i_127.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_127.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> + <a name="i_128.jpg" id="i_128.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_128.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_XII" id="CHAT_XII">Chat No. 12.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse indent10">"<i>I work on,</i></div> + <div class="verse"><i>Through all the bristling fence of nights and days,</i></div> + <div class="verse"><i>Which hedge time in from the eternities.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—Mrs. <span class="smcap">Browning</span>.</div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_034b.jpg" alt="Letter T"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">The</span> +late Cardinal Manning +always felt a great interest +in our parish of Brasted. +In former times it formed +part of Hever Chase, the property of +Sir Thomas Boleyn (the father of Queen +Anne Boleyn), who lived at Hever +Castle, about four miles from Brasted, +a fine Tudor specimen of domestic +architecture, which is now somewhat +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +jealously shown to the public on certain +days. Hever Castle is the original +of Bovor Castle, immortalised by Mr. +Burnand in his wonderful "Happy +Thoughts."</p> + +<p>The Cardinal's father, who was at +one time an opulent city merchant, +and sometime Governor of the Bank of +England, owned the estate of Combe +Bank, formerly the English location of +the Argyll family, whose Duke sat in +the House of Lords, until quite a recent +date, as Baron Sundridge, the name of +the adjacent village.</p> + +<p>In Sundridge Church are some family +busts of the Argylls by Mrs. Dawson +Damer, who stayed much at Combe +Bank, and who lies buried with all +her graving and sculpting tools in +Sundridge churchyard.</p> + +<p>The Cardinal and his elder brother, +Charles Manning, passed some youthful +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +years in this house, and when financial +trouble overtook their father, and he +was obliged to part with the property, +it became the ever-present desire and +day-dream of the elder son to succeed +in life and repurchase the place. He +succeeded well in life, and enjoyed a +very long and happy one; but he never +became the owner of Combe Bank, the +hope to do so only fading with his +life.</p> + +<p>He owned, or leased, a pleasant old +house at Littlehampton; and if his +brother, the Cardinal, was in need of +rest, he would lend it to him, when +the Cardinal's method of relaxation was +to go to bed in a sea-looking room, and, +with window open, read, write, and +contemplate for some three or four days +and nights, and then arise refreshed like +a giant, and return to the manifold +duties waiting for him in town.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Cardinal's home in London was +formerly the Guard's Institute in the +Vauxhall Bridge Road, which, failing in +its first intention, was purchased as the +palace for the then newly-elected Cardinal-Archbishop +of Westminster. It +proved to be rather a dreary, draughty, +uncomfortable abode, but having the +advantage of a double staircase and some +large reception rooms, was useful for +the clerical assemblies he used to invoke.</p> + +<p>I had the privilege, without being a +member of his church, of being allowed +to attend the meetings of the <i>Academia</i> +which the Cardinal held every now and +then during the London season. His +friends would gather in one of the big +rooms a little before eight in the evening, +and sit in darkened circles around +a small centre table, before which a +high-backed carved chair stood. The +entire light for the apartment proceeded +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +from two big silver candlesticks on the +table. As the clock chimed eight, the +Cardinal, clothed in crimson cassock and +skull-cap, would glide into the room, +and standing before the episcopal chair, +murmur a short Latin prayer, after +which the discussion of the evening +would begin; when all that wished +had had their little say, the Cardinal +replied to the points raised by the +various speakers, and closed the debate; +after which he held a sort of informal +reception, welcoming individually every +guest.</p> + +<p>No one but a Rembrandt could give +the beautiful effect of the half-lights +and heavy black shadows of this striking +gathering, with its centre of colour +and light in the tall red figure of +the Cardinal, his noble face and picturesque +dress forming a mind-picture +which can never fade from the memory. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +The strong theatrical effect, combined +with the real simplicity of the scene, +the personal interest of many of those +who took part in the discussion, the +associations with the past, the speculation +whither the innovation of the +installation of a Roman Catholic Archbishop +in Westminster was tending, +giving the observer bountiful food for +much solemn thought.</p> + +<p>Upon our book-shelves repose four +volumes of the Cardinal's sermons, +preached when a member of the Church +of England, and Archdeacon of Chichester. +They were bought at Bishop +Wilberforce's sale, who was the Cardinal's +brother-in-law, and contain the +autograph of William Wilberforce, the +bishop's eldest brother. Upon the same +shelf will be found a copy of "Parochial +Sermons" by John Henry Newman, +Vicar of St. Mary the Virgin's, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +Oxford. This volume formerly belonged +to Bishop Stanley, and came +from the library of his celebrated son, +Arthur Penrhyn Stanley, sometime Dean +of Westminster.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="figcenter bord"><a name="BOOK_ROOM_2" id="BOOK_ROOM_2"></a> + <img src="images/i_134.jpg" + alt="Book-room (second view)" /> +</div> + +<p>A good book might be written by +one who is duly qualified on "the Poets +who are not read." It would not be +flattering to the ghosts of many of the +departed great, but there is so much +assumption on the part of the general +reader, that he knows them all, has +read them all, and generally likes them +all, which if examined into closely +would prove a snare and a delusion, +that one is tempted to administer some +gentle interrogatories upon the subject. +First and foremost, then, who now reads +Byron? His works rest on the shelves, +it is true, but are they ever opened, +except to verify a quotation? Does the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +general reader of this time steadily go +through "Childe Harold," "Don Juan," +and his other splendid works. Not death +but sleep prevails, from which perchance +one day he may awake and again enjoy +his share of fame and favour. It is the +fashion with many persons to express +the utmost sympathy with and acute +knowledge of the work of Robert +Browning, but we doubt if many of +these could pass a Civil Service examination +in the very poems they +name so glibly. He is so hard to +understand without time and close +study, that few have the inclination to +give either in these days of pressure, +worry, and rush.</p> + +<p>Upon neglected shelves Cowper and +Crabbe lie dusty and unopened—the +only person who read Crabbe in these +days was the late Edward FitzGerald; +and it is a small class apart that still +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +looks up to Wordsworth. The stars of +Keats and Shelley, it is true, are just +now in the ascendant, and may so remain +for a little while.</p> + +<p>It is difficult and dangerous, we are +told, to prophesy unless we know, but +our private opinion is that Lord Tennyson's +fame has been declining since his +death, and that a large portion of his +poems and all his plays will die, leaving +a living residuum of such splendid +work as "Maud," "In Memoriam," +and some of his short poems.</p> + +<p>America has furnished us with Dr. +Oliver Wendell Holmes, whose charm +and finish is likely to continue its hold +upon our imagination; then there is the +Quaker poet Whittier, who will probably +only live in a song or two; and +Longfellow, whose popularity has a long +time since declined. He once wrote +a sort of novel or romance called +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +"Hyperion," which showed his reading +public for the first time that he was +possessed of a gentle humour, which +does not often appear in his poems. +For instance, one of his characters, by +name Berkley, wishing to console a +jilted lover, says—</p> + +<p>"'I was once as desperately in love +as you are now; I adored, and was +rejected.'</p> + +<p>"'You are in love with certain attributes,' +said the lady.</p> + +<p>"'Damn your attributes, madam,' +said I; 'I know nothing of attributes.'</p> + +<p>"'Sir,' said she, with dignity, 'you +have been drinking.'</p> + +<p>"So we parted. She was married +afterwards to another, who knew something +about attributes, I suppose. I +have seen her once since, and only +once. She had a baby in a yellow +gown. I hate a baby in a yellow +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +gown. How glad I am she did not +marry me."</p> + +<p>The fate of most poets is to be cut +up for Dictionaries of Quotations, for +which amiable purpose they are often +admirably adapted.</p> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_142.jpg" id="i_142.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_142.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> + <a name="i_143.jpg" id="i_143.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_143.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_XIII" id="CHAT_XIII">Chat No. 13.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>She will return, I know she will,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>She will not leave me here alone.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_019b.jpg" alt="Letter S"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">Staying</span> +many years ago +in a pleasant country-house, +whilst walking home after +evening church my host +remarked, as we passed in the growing +darkness a house from which streamed +a light down the path from the front +door, "Ah! Jane has not yet returned." +The phrase sounded odd, and when we +were snugly ensconced in the smoking-room, +he that evening told me the +following story, which, however, then +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +stopped midway, but to which I am +now able to add the sequel.</p> + +<p>A certain John Manson (the name is, +of course, fictitious), an elderly wealthy +City bachelor, married late in life a +young girl of great beauty, and with +no friends or relations.</p> + +<p>She found her husband's country +home, in which she was necessarily +much alone, very dull, and she thought +that he was hard and unsympathising +when he was at home; whereas, although +a curt, reserved manner gave this impression, +he was really full of love for, +and confidence in his young wife, and +inwardly chafed at and deplored his +want of power to show what his real +feelings were.</p> + +<p>The misunderstanding between them +grew and widened, like the poetical +"rift within the lute," and soon after +the birth of her child, a girl, she left +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +her home with her baby, merely leaving +a few lines of curt farewell, and was +henceforth lost to him. His belief in +her honesty never wavered; and night +after night, with his own hand, he +lighted and placed in a certain hall-window +a lamp which thus illuminated +the path to the door, saying, "Jane will +return, poor dear; and it's sure to be at +night, and she'll like to see the light."</p> + +<p>Years passed by, and Jane made no +sign, the light each evening shining +uselessly; and still a stranger to her +home, she died, leaving her daughter, +now a beautiful girl of twenty, and +marvellously like what her mother was +when she married.</p> + +<p>The husband, unaware of the death +of his wife, himself came to lay him for +the last beneath his own roof-tree, and +still his one cry was, "Jane will return." +It seemed as if he could not pass in peace +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +from this world's rack until it was +accomplished—when, lo! a miracle +came to pass; for the daughter arrived +one evening with a letter from her +mother, written when she was dying, +and asking her husband's forgiveness, +and the light still beamed from the +beacon window.</p> + +<p>The old man was only semi-conscious, +and mistaking his child for her +mother, with a strong voice cried out, +"I knew you'd come back," and died +in the moment of the joy of her supposed +return.</p> + +<p>By a curious coincidence, since writing +this true story, which was told to +me in 1865, some of the incidents, in +an altered form, have found a place in +Mr. Ian Maclaren's popular book, "Beside +the Bonnie Brier Bush." It would +be interesting to know from whence +he drew his inspiration, and whether his +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +story should perchance trace back to a +common ancestor in mine.</p> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p>A few years ago Mr. Walter Hamilton +published, in six volumes, the most +complete collection of English parodies +ever brought together. Amongst others, +he gave a vast number upon the well-known +poem by Charles Wolfe of "Not +a drum was heard." Page after page is +covered with them, upon every possible +subject; but the following one, written +by an "American cousin" many years +ago, and which was not accessible to Mr. +Hamilton, is perhaps worth repeating +and preserving. He called it "The +Mosquito Hunt," and it runs as follows, +if my memory serves me faithfully, I +having no written note of it:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse"></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">"Not a sound was heard, but a horrible hum,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">As around our chamber we hurried,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">In search of the insect whose trumpet and drum</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Our delectable slumber had worried.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> + We sought for him darkly at dead of night,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Our coverlet carefully turning,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">By the shine of the moonbeam's misty light,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And our candle dimly burning.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">About an hour had seemed to elapse,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Ere we met with the wretch that had bit us;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And raising our shoe, gave some terrible slaps,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">Which made the mosquito's quietus.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Quickly and gladly we turned from the dead,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And left him all smash'd and gory;</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">We blew out the candle, and popped into bed,</div> + <div class="verse indent1_5">And determined to tell you the story!"</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing1"> + <a name="i_148.jpg" id="i_148.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_148.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> + <a name="i_149.jpg" id="i_149.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_149.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_XIV" id="CHAT_XIV">Chat No. 14.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>The welcome news is in the letter found,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>The carrier's not commissioned to expound:</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>It speaks itself.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Dryden.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_017b.jpg" alt="Letter A"/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">A pleasant</span> +hour may +perhaps be passed in searching +through the family +autograph-box in the book-room. +Its contents are varied and far-fetched. +A capital series of letters from +that best and most genial of correspondents, +James Payn, are there to puzzle, +by their very difficult calligraphy, the +would-be reader. Mr. Payn, a dear +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +friend to Foxwold, is now a great invalid, +and a brave sufferer, keeping, +despite his pain, the same bright spirit, +the same brilliant wit, and delighting +with the same enchanting conversation. +Out of all his work, there is nothing so +beautiful as his lay-sermons, published +in a small volume called "Some Private +Views;" and but a little while since +he wrote, on his invalid couch, a most +affecting study, called "The Backwater +of Life;" it has only up to the present +time appeared in the <i>Cornhill Magazine</i>, +but will doubtless be soon collected with +other work in a more permanent form. +It is a pathetic picture of how suffering +may be relieved by wit, wisdom, and +courage.</p> + +<p>As Mr. Leslie Stephen well says in his +brother's life, "For such literature the +British public has shown a considerable +avidity ever since the days of Addison. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +In spite of occasional disavowals, it +really loves a sermon, and is glad to +hear preachers who are not bound by +the proprieties of the religious pulpit. +Some essayists, like Johnson, have been +as solemn as the true clerical performer, +and some have diverged into the humorous +with Charles Lamb, or the cynical +with Hazlitt."<a name="fnanchor_2" id="fnanchor_2"></a> +<a href="#footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p> + +<p>In Mr. Payn's lay-sermons we have +the humour and the pathos, the tears +being very close to the laughter; and +they reflect in a peculiarly strong +manner the tender wit and delicate +fancy of their author.</p> + +<p>But to return to our autograph-box. +Here we find letters from such varied +authors as Josef Israels, the Dutch +painter, Hubert Herkomer, W. B. Richmond, +Mrs. Carlyle, Wilkie Collins, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +Dean Stanley, and a host of other +interesting people. Perhaps a few extracts, +where judicious and inoffensive, +may give an interest to this especial +chat.</p> + +<p>The late Mrs. Charles Fox of Trebah +was in herself, both socially and intellectually, +a very remarkable woman. +Born in the Lake Country, and belonging +to the Society of Friends, she formed, +as a girl, many happy friendships with +the Wordsworths, the Southeys, the +Coleridges, and all that charmed circle +of intellect, every scrap of whose sayings +and doings are so full of interest, and so +dearly cherished.</p> + +<p>These friendships she continued to +preserve after her marriage, and when +she had exchanged her lovely lake +home for an equally beautiful and interesting +one on the Cornish coast, first +at Perran and afterwards at Trebah.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>One of her special friendships was +with Hartley Coleridge, who indited +several of his sonnets to his beautiful +young friend.</p> + +<p>The subjoined letter gives a pleasant +picture of his friendly correspondence, +and has not been included in the published +papers by his brother, the Rev. +Derwent Coleridge, who edited his +remains.</p> + + +<p class="blockquote"> +"<span class="smcap">Dear Sarah</span>,</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent3">If a stranger to the fold</div> + <div class="verse">Of happy innocents, where thou art one,</div> + <div class="verse">May so address thee by a name he loves,</div> + <div class="verse">Both for a mother's and a sister's sake,</div> + <div class="verse">And surely loves it not the less for thine.</div> + <div class="verse">Dear Sarah, strange it needs must seem to thee</div> + <div class="verse">That I should choose the quaint disguise of verse,</div> + <div class="verse">And, like a mimic masquer, come before thee</div> + <div class="verse">To tell my simple tale of country news,</div> + <div class="verse">Or,—sooth to tell thee,—I have nought to tell</div> + <div class="verse">But what a most intelligencing gossip</div> + <div class="verse">Would hardly mention on her morning rounds:</div> + <div class="verse">Things that a newspaper would not record</div> + <div class="verse">In the dead-blank recess of Parliament.</div> + <div class="verse"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> + Yet so it is,—my thoughts are so confused,</div> + <div class="verse">My memory is so wild a wilderness,</div> + <div class="verse">I need the order of the measured line</div> + <div class="verse">To help me, whensoe'er I would attempt</div> + <div class="verse">To methodise the random notices</div> + <div class="verse">Of purblind observation. Easier far</div> + <div class="verse">The minuet step of slippery sliding verse,</div> + <div class="verse">Than the strong stately walk of steadfast prose.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">Since you have left us, many a beauteous change</div> + <div class="verse">Hath Nature wrought on the eternal hills;</div> + <div class="verse">And not an hour hath past that hath not done</div> + <div class="verse">Its work of beauty. When December winds,</div> + <div class="verse">Hungry and fell, were chasing the dry leaves,</div> + <div class="verse">Shrill o'er the valley at the dead of night,</div> + <div class="verse">'Twas sweet, for watchers such as I, to mark</div> + <div class="verse">How bright, how very bright, the stars would shine</div> + <div class="verse">Through the deep rifts of congregated clouds;</div> + <div class="verse">How very distant seemed the azure sky;</div> + <div class="verse">And when at morn the lazy, weeping fog,</div> + <div class="verse">Long lingering, loath to leave the slumbrous lake,</div> + <div class="verse">Whitened, diffusive, as the rising sun</div> + <div class="verse">Shed on the western hills his rosiest beams,</div> + <div class="verse">I thought of thee, and thought our peaceful vale</div> + <div class="verse">Had lost one heart that could have felt its peace,</div> + <div class="verse">One eye that saw its beauties, and one soul</div> + <div class="verse">That made its peace and beauty all her own.</div> + </div> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse">One morn there was a kindly boon of heaven,</div> + <div class="verse">That made the leafless woods so beautiful,</div> + <div class="verse">It was sore pity that one spirit lives,</div> + <div class="verse"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> + That owns the presence of Eternal God</div> + <div class="verse">In all the world of Nature and of Mind,</div> + <div class="verse">Who did not see it. Low the vapour hung</div> + <div class="verse">On the flat fields, and streak'd with level layers</div> + <div class="verse">The lower regions of the mountainous round;</div> + <div class="verse">But every summit, and the lovely line</div> + <div class="verse">Of mountain tops, stood in the pale blue sky</div> + <div class="verse">Boldly defined. The cloudless sun dispelled</div> + <div class="verse">The hazy masses, and a lucid veil</div> + <div class="verse">But softened every charm it not concealed.</div> + <div class="verse">Then every tree that climbs the steep fell-side—</div> + <div class="verse">Young oak, yet laden with sere foliage;</div> + <div class="verse">Larch, springing upwards, with its spikey top</div> + <div class="verse">And spiney garb of horizontal boughs;</div> + <div class="verse">The veteran ash, strong-knotted, wreathed and twined,</div> + <div class="verse">As if some Dæmon dwelt within its trunk,</div> + <div class="verse">And shot forth branches, serpent-like; uprear'd</div> + <div class="verse">The holly and the yew, that never fade</div> + <div class="verse">And never smile; these, and whate'er beside,</div> + <div class="verse">Or stubborn stump, or thin-arm'd underwood,</div> + <div class="verse">Clothe the bleak strong girth of Silverhow</div> + <div class="verse">(You know the place, and every stream and brook</div> + <div class="verse">Is known to you) by ministry of Frost,</div> + <div class="verse">Were turned to shapes of Orient adamant,</div> + <div class="verse">As if the whitest crystals, new endow'd</div> + <div class="verse">With vital or with vegetative power,</div> + <div class="verse">Had burst from earth, to mimic every form</div> + <div class="verse">Of curious beauty that the earth could boast,</div> + <div class="verse">Or, like a tossing sea of curly plumes,</div> + <div class="verse">Frozen in an instant——"</div> + </div> + </div> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p>"So much for verse, which, being execrably +bad, cannot be excused, except by +friendship, therefore is the fitter for a +friendly epistle. There's logic for you! In +fact, my dear lady, I am so much delighted, +not to say flattered, by your wish that I +should write to you, that I can't help being +rather silly. It will be a sad loss to me +when your excellent mother leaves Grasmere; +and to-morrow my friend Archer and I dine +at Dale End, for our farewell. But so it +must be. I am always happy to hear anything +of your little ones, who are such very sweet +creatures that one might almost think it a +pity they should ever grow up to be big +women, and know only better than they do +now. Among all the anecdotes of childhood +that have been recorded, I never heard of +one so characteristic as Jenny-Kitty's wish +to inform Lord Dunstanville of the miseries +of the negroes. Bless its little soul! I am +truly sorry to hear that you have been suffering +bodily illness, though I know that it +cannot disturb the serenity of your mind. I +hope little Derwent did not disturb you with +his crown; I am told he is a lovely little +wretch, and you say he has eyes like mine. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +I hope he will see his way better with them. +Derwent has never answered my letter, but I +complain not; I dare say he has more than +enough to do.<a name="fnanchor_3" id="fnanchor_3"></a> +<a href="#footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Thank you kindly for your +kindness to him and his lady. I hope the +friendship of Friends will not obstruct his +rising in the Church, and that he will consult +his own interest prudently, paying court to +the powers that be, yet never so far committing +himself as to miss an opportunity +of ingratiating himself with the powers that +may be. Let him not utter, far less write, +any sentence that will not bear a twofold +interpretation! For the present let his +liberality go no further than a very liberal +explanation of the words consistency and +gratitude may carry him; let him always be +honest when it is his interest to be so, and +sometimes when it may appear not to be so; +and never be a knave under a deanery or a +rectory of five thousand a year! My best +remembrances to your husband, and kisses +for Juliet and Jenny-Kitty, though she did +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +say she liked Mr. Barber far better than me. +I can't say I agree with her in that particular, +having a weak partiality for</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Your affectionate friend,</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Hartley Coleridge</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p class="topspacing1">Another friend of the Fox family +was the late John Bright, and the +following letter to the now well-known +Caroline Fox of Penjerrick will be read +with interest:—</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Torquay</span>, 10 <i>mo</i>. 13, 1868.</p> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Friend</span>,</p> + +<p>I hope the 'one cloud' has passed +away. I was much pleased with the earnestness +and feeling of the poem, and wished to ask +thee for a copy of it, but was afraid to give +thee the trouble of writing it out for me.</p> + +<p>"For myself, I have endeavoured only to +speak when I have had something to say +which it seemed to me ought to be said, and +I did not feel that the sentiment of the poem +condemned me.</p> + +<p>"We had a pleasant visit to Kynance +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +Cove. It is a charming place, and we were +delighted with it. We went on through +Helston to Penzance: the day following we +visited the Logan Rock and the Land's End, +and in the afternoon the celebrated Mount—the +weather all we could wish for. We were +greatly pleased with the Mount, and I shall +not read 'Lycidas' with less interest now +that I have seen the place of the 'great +vision.' We found the hotel to which you +kindly directed us perfect in all respects. +On Friday we came from Penzance to Truro, +and posted to St. Columb, where we spent a +night at Mr. Northy's—the day and night +were very wet. Next day we posted to +Tintagel, and back to Launceston, taking +the train there for Torquay.</p> + +<p>"We were pressed for time at Tintagel, +but were pleased with what we saw.</p> + +<p>"Here, we are in a land of beauty and of +summer, the beauty beyond my expectation, +and the climate like that of Nice. Yesterday +we drove round to see the sights, and W. +Pengelly and Mr. Vivian went with us to +Kent's Cavern, Anstey's Cove, and the round +of exquisite views. We are at Cash's Hotel, +but visit our friend Susan Midgley in the +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +day and evening. To-morrow we start for +Street, to stay a day or two with my daughter +Helen, and are to spend Sunday at Bath. +We have seen much and enjoyed much in +our excursion, but we shall remember nothing +with more pleasure than your kindness and +our stay at Penjerrick.</p> + +<p>"Elizabeth joins me in kind and affectionate +remembrance of you, and in the hope +that thy dear father did not suffer from the +'long hours' to which my talk subjected +him. When we get back to our bleak +region and home of cold and smoke, we +shall often think of your pleasant retreat, +and of the wonderful gardens at Penjerrick.</p> + +<p>Believe me,</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Always sincerely thy friend,</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">John Bright</span>."</p> + +<p><i>To</i> <span class="smcap">Caroline Fox</span>,<br /> +<span style="margin-left:1.3em;">Penjerrick, Falmouth.</span></p> +</div> + +<p class="topspacing1">There are few men whose every +uttered word is regarded with greater +respect and interest than Mr. Ruskin. +It is well known that he has always +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +been a wide and careful collector of +minerals, gems, and fine specimens of +the art and nature world. One of his +various agents, through whom at one +time he made many such purchases, +both for himself and his Oxford and +Sheffield museums, was Mr. Bryce +Wright, the mineralogist, and to him +are addressed the following five +letters:—</p> + +<div class="blockquote topspacing1"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Brantwood, Coniston, Lancashire</span>,</p> +<p class="margin-left-60"><i>22nd May '81</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Wright</span>,</p> + +<p>I am very greatly obliged to you +for letting me see these opals, quite unexampled, +as you rightly say, from that locality—but +from that locality <i>I</i> never buy—my +kind is the opal formed in pores and cavities, +throughout the mass of that compact brown +jasper—this, which is merely a superficial +crust of jelly on the surface of a nasty brown +sandstone, I do not myself value in the least. +I wish you could get at some of the geology +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +of the two sorts, but I suppose everything +is kept close by the diggers and the Jews at +present.</p> + +<p>"As for the cameos, the best of the two, +'supposed' (by whom?) to represent Isis, +represents neither Egyptian nor Oxonian +Isis, but only an ill-made French woman of +the town bathing at Boulogne, and the +other is only a 'Minerve' of the Halles, +a <i>petroleuse</i> in a mob-cap, sulphur-fire +colour.</p> + +<p>"I don't depreciate what I want to buy, +as you know well, but it is not safe to send +me things in the set way 'supposed' to be +this or that! If you ever get any more nice +little cranes, or cockatoos, looking like what +they're supposed to be meant for, they shall +at least be returned with compliments.</p> + +<p>"I send back the box by to-day's rail; +put down all expenses to my account, as I +am always amused and interested by a parcel +from you.</p> + +<p>"You needn't print this letter as an +advertisement, unless you like!</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Ever faithfully yours,</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. Ruskin</span>."</p> +</div> + +<p class="topspacing2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Brantwood</span>, 23<i>rd May</i>.</p> +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Wright</span>,</p> + +<p>The silver's safe here, and I want +to buy it for Sheffield, but the price seems to +me awful. It must always be attached to it +at the museum, and I fear great displeasure +from the public for giving you such a price. +What is there in the specimen to make it so +valuable? I have not anything like it, nor +do I recollect its like (or I shouldn't want +it), but if so rare, why does not the British +Museum take it.</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Ever truly yours,</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. Ruskin</span>."</p> + +<p class="right topspacing2"><span class="smcap">Brantwood</span>, <i>Wednesday</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Wright</span>,</p> + +<p>I am very glad of your long and +interesting letter, and can perfectly understand +all your difficulties, and have always +observed your activity and attention to your +business with much sympathy, but of late +certainly I have been frightened at your +prices, and, before I saw the golds, was rather +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +uneasy at having so soon to pay for them. +But you are quite right in your estimate of +the interest and value of the collection, and +I hope to be able to be of considerable +service to you yet, though I fear it cannot +be in buying specimens at seventy guineas, +unless there is something to be shown for +the money, like that great native silver!</p> + +<p>"I have really not been able to examine +the red ones yet—the golds alone were more +than I could judge of till I got a quiet hour +this morning. I might possibly offer to +change some of the locally interesting ones +for a proustite, but I can't afford any more +cash just now.</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Ever very heartily yours,</p> +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. Ruskin</span>."</p> + +<p class="topspacing2"> +<span class="margin-left-60 smcap">Brantwood</span>,</p> +<p class="right">3<i>rd Nov. or</i> 4<i>th (?), Friday</i>.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Wright</span>,</p> + +<p>My telegram will, I hope, enable +you to act with promptness about the golds, +which will be of extreme value to me; and +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +its short saying about the proustites will, I +hope, not be construed by you as meaning +that I will buy them also. You don't really +suppose that you are to be paid interest of +money on minerals, merely because they have +lain long in your hands.</p> + +<p>"If I sold my old arm-chair, which has +got the rickets, would you expect the purchaser +to pay me forty years' interest on the +original price? Your proustite may perhaps +be as good as ever it was, but it is not worth +more to me or Sheffield because you have +had either the enjoyment or the care of it +longer than you expected!</p> + +<p>"But I am really very seriously obliged by +the <i>sight</i> of it, with the others, and perhaps +may make an effort to lump some of the +new ones with the gold in an estimate of +large purchase. I think the gold, by your +description, must be a great credit to Sheffield +and to me; perhaps I mayn't be able to part +with it!</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Ever faithfully yours,</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="smcap">J. Ruskin."</span></p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + + +<p class="right topspacing2"><span class="smcap">Herne Hill, S.E.</span>, 6 <i>May</i> '84.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">My dear Bryce,</span></p> + +<p>I can't resist this tourmaline, and +have carried it off with me. For you and +Regent Street it's not monstrous in price +neither; but I must send you back your +(pink!) apatite. I wish I'd come to see you, +but have been laid up all the time I've +been here—just got to the pictures, and +that's all.</p> + +<p class="margin-left-25">Yours always,</p> +<p class="margin-left-50">(much to my damage!)</p> +<p class="right">J. R."</p> +</div> + +<h2>FOOTNOTES:</h2> + +<div class="footnotes"> + +<p class="footnote"> <a name="footnote_2" +id="footnote_2"></a><a href="#fnanchor_2"> +<span class="label">[2]</span></a> +"Life of Sir T. FitzJames Stephen," by his Brother, Leslie Stephen. +Smith, Elder & Co., 1895.</p> + +<p class="footnote"> <a name="footnote_3" +id="footnote_3"></a><a href="#fnanchor_3"> +<span class="label">[3]</span></a> +The Rev. Derwent Coleridge was at the time keeping a school at +Helston, which was within an easy distance of Perran, where Mrs. Fox +was at this time living.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> + <a name="i_167.jpg" id="i_167.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_167.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2><a name="CHAT_XV" id="CHAT_XV">Chat No. 15.</a></h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Scarcely she knew, that she was great or fair,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Or wise beyond what other women are.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Dryden.</span></div> +</div> + +<div class="topspacing1"> + <img class="drop-cap" src="images/i_017b.jpg" alt="Letter "/> +</div> + +<p class="drop-cap"><span class="smcap">An</span> +oval picture that hangs +opposite Sheridan's portrait +is a fine presentment of +the Marquis de Ségur, by +Vanloo.</p> + +<p>The Marquis was born in 1724, and +eventually became a marshal of France, +and minister of war to Louis XVI. +After his royal master's execution he +fell into very low water, and it was only +by his calm intrepidity in very trying +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +circumstances that he escaped the guillotine. +His memoirs have from time +to time appeared, generally under the +authority of some of his descendants. +This interesting portrait belonged to +the family of de Ségur, and was parted +with by the present head of the house +to the late Mrs. Lyne Stephens, who +gave it to us.</p> + +<p>The history of this admirable woman +is deeply interesting in every detail. +She was the daughter of Colonel Duvernay, +a member of a good old French +family, who was ruined by the French +Revolution of 1785. Born at Versailles +in the year 1812, her father had the +child named Yolande Marie Louise; +and she was educated at the Conservatoire +in Paris, where they soon discovered +her wonderful talent for dancing. +This art was encouraged, developed, and +trained to the uttermost; and when, in +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +due time, she appeared upon the ballet +stage, she took the town by storm, and +at once came to the foremost rank as +the well-known Mademoiselle Duvernay, +rivalling, if not excelling, the two +Ellsslers, Cerito, and Taglioni.</p> + +<p>She made wide the fame of the +Cachucha dance, which was specially +rearranged for her; and the world was +immediately deluged with her portraits, +some good, some bad, many very apocryphal, +and many very indifferent.</p> + +<p>In one of W. M. Thackeray's wonderful +"Roundabout Papers," which perhaps +contain some of the most beautiful +work he ever gave us, he thus recalls, +in a semi-playful, semi-pathetic tone, +his recollections of the great <i>danseuse</i>. +"In William IV.'s time, when I think +of Duvernay dancing in as the Bayadère, +I say it was a vision of loveliness such +as mortal eyes can't see nowadays. +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +How well I remember the tune to +which she used to appear! Kaled used +to say to the Sultan, 'My lord, a troop +of those dancing and singing girls called +Bayadères approaches,' and to the clash +of cymbals and the thumping of my +heart, in she used to dance! There +has never been anything like it—never."</p> + +<p>After a few years of brilliant successes +she retired from the stage she had done +so much to grace and dignify, and +married the late Mr. Stephens Lyne +Stephens, who in those days, and after +his good old father's death, was considered +one of the richest commoners +in England.</p> + +<p>He died in 1860, after a far too short, +but intensely happy, married life; and +having no children, left his widow, as +far as was in his power, complete +mistress of his large fortune. They +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +were both devoted to art, and being +very acute connoisseurs, had collected a +superb quantity of the best pictures, the +rarest old French furniture, and the +finest china.</p> + +<p>The bulk of these remarkable collections +was dispersed at Christie's in a +nine-days'-wonder sale in 1895, and +proved the great attraction of the season, +buyers from Paris, New York, Vienna, +and Berlin eagerly competing with +London for the best things.</p> + +<p>Some of the more remarkable prices +are here noted, as being of permanent +interest to the art-loving world, and +testifying how little hard times can +affect the sale of a really fine and +genuine collection.</p> + +<p>As a rule, the prices obtained were +very far in excess of those paid for the +various objects, in many cases reaching +four and five times their original cost.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p class="blockquote">A pair of Mandarin vases sold for 1070 +guineas. The beautiful Sèvres oviform vase, +given by Louis XV. to the Marquis de +Montcalm, 1900 guineas. A pair of Sèvres +blue and gold Jardinières, 5¼ inches high, +1900 guineas. A clock by Berthoud, 1000 +guineas. A small upright Louis XVI. secretaire, +800 guineas. Another rather like it, +960 guineas. A marble bust of Louis XIV., +567 guineas. Three Sèvres oviform vases, +from Lord Pembroke's collection, 5000 +guineas. A single oviform Sèvres vase, 760 +guineas. A pair of Sèvres vases, 1050 +guineas. A very beautiful Sedan chair, in +Italian work of the sixteenth century, 600 +guineas. A clock by Causard, 720 guineas. +A Louis XV. upright secretaire, 1320 guineas. +"Dogs and Gamekeeper," painted by Troyon, +2850 guineas. "The Infanta," a full-length +portrait by Velasquez, 4300 guineas. A bust +of the Infanta, also by Velasquez, 770 guineas. +"Faith presenting the Eucharist," a splendid +work by Murillo, 2350 guineas. "The Prince +of Orange Hunting," by Cuyp, 2000 guineas. +"The Village Inn," by Van Ostade, 1660 +guineas. A fine specimen of Terburg's work, +1950 guineas. A portrait by Madame Vigée +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +le Brun, 2250 guineas. A lovely portrait +by Nattier, 3900 guineas. Watteau's celebrated +picture of "La Gamme d'Amour," +3350 guineas. A pair of small Lancret's +Illustrations to La Fontaine brought respectively +1300 guineas and 1050 guineas. +Drouais' superb portrait of Madame du Barry, +690 guineas; and a small head of a girl by +Greuze sold for 710 guineas.</p> + +<p>Small pieces of china of no remarkable +merit, but bearing a greatly enhanced +value from belonging to this +celebrated collection, obtained wonderful +prices. For example:—</p> + +<p class="blockquote">A Sang-de Bœuf Crackle vase, 12½ inches +high, 280 guineas. A pair of china Kylins, +360 guineas. A circular Pesaro dish, 155 +guineas. A pair of Sèvres dark blue oviform +vases, 1000 guineas. Three Sèvres vases, +1520 guineas. Two small panels of old +French tapestry, 285 guineas. Another pair, +710 guineas. A circular Sèvres bowl, 13 +inches in diameter, 300 guineas.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>The ormolu ornaments of the time +of Louis XIV. brought great sums; for +instance—</p> + +<p class="blockquote">An ormolu inkstand sold for 72 guineas. +A pair of wall lights, 102 guineas. A pair +of ormolu candlesticks, 400 guineas. Another +pair, 500 guineas. A pair of ormolu andirons, +220 guineas.</p> + +<p>Little tables of Louis XV. period also +sold amazingly.</p> + +<p class="blockquote">An oblong one, 21½ inches wide, 285 +guineas. An upright secretaire, 580 guineas. +A small Louis XVI. chest of drawers, 315 +guineas. A pair of Louis XVI. mahogany +cabinets, 950 guineas. A pair of Louis +XVI. bronze candelabra brought 525 guineas; +and an ebony cabinet of the same time fetched +the extraordinary price of 1700 guineas; and +a little Louis XV. gold chatelaine sold for +300 guineas.</p> + +<p>The grand total obtained by this remarkable +sale, together with some of the +plate and jewels, amounted to £158,000!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span></p> + +<p>For thirty-four years, as a widow, +Mrs. Lyne Stephens administered, with +the utmost wisdom and the broadest +generosity, the large trust thus placed in +her most capable hands. Building and +restoring churches for both creeds (she +being Catholic and her late husband +Protestant); endowing needy young +couples whom she considered had some +claim upon her, if only as friends; +further adding to and completing her +art collections, and finishing and beautifying +her different homes in Norfolk, +Paris, and Roehampton.</p> + +<p>Generous to the fullest degree, she +would warmly resent the least attempt +to impose upon her. An amusing +instance of this occurred many years +ago, when one of her husband's relations, +considering he had some extraordinary +claim upon the widow's generosity, +again and again pressed her for +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +large benevolences, which for a season +he obtained. Getting tired of his importunity, +she at last declined to render +further help, and received in reply a +very abusive letter from the claimant, +which wound up by stating that if the +desired assistance were not forthcoming +by a certain date, the applicant would +set up a fruit-stall in front of her then +town-house in Piccadilly, and so shame +her into compliance with his request. +She immediately wrote him a pretty +little letter in reply, saying, "That it +was with sincere pleasure she had heard +of her correspondent's intention of pursuing +for the first time an honest calling +whereby to earn his bread, and that if +his oranges were good, she had given +orders that they should be bought for +her servants' hall!"</p> + +<p>During the Franco-German war of +1870 she remained in Paris in her +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +beautiful home in the Faubourg-Saint-Honoré, +and would daily sally forth to +help the sufferings which the people in +Paris were undergoing. No one will +ever know the vast extent of the sacrifice +she then made. Her men-servants +had all left to fight for their country, +and she was alone in the big house, +with only two or three maids to accompany +her. During the Commune +she continued her daily walks abroad, +and was always recognised by the mob +as a good Frenchwoman, doing her +utmost for the needs of the very poor. +Her friend, the late Sir Richard Wallace, +who was also in Paris during these +troubles, well earned his baronetcy by +his care of the poor English shut up in +the city during the siege; but although +Mrs. Lyne Stephens' charity was quite +as wide and generous as his, she never +received, nor did she expect or desire it, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +one word of acknowledgment or thanks +from any of the powers that were.</p> + +<p>She died at Lynford, from the result +of a fall on a parquet floor, on the 2nd +September 1894, aged 82, full of physical +vigour and intellectual brightness, +and still remarkable for her personal +beauty; finding life to the last full of +many interests, but impressed by the +sadness of having outlived nearly all +her early friends and contemporaries.</p> + +<p>She lingered nearly three weeks after +the actual fall, during which her affectionate +gratitude to all who watched +and tended her, her bright recognition +when faces she loved came near, her +quick response to all that was said and +done, were beautiful and touching to +see, and very sweet to remember. Her +last words to the writer of these lines +when he bade her farewell were, "My +fondest love to my beloved Julian;" our +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +invalid son at Foxwold, for whom she +always evinced the deepest affection and +sympathy.</p> + +<p>In her funeral sermon, preached by +Canon Scott, himself an intimate friend, +in the beautiful church she had built +for Cambridge, to a crowded and deeply +sympathetic audience, he eloquently +observed: "Greatly indeed was she +indebted to God; richly had she been +endowed with gifts of every kind; of +natural character, of special intelligence, +of winning attractiveness, which compelled +homage from all who came +under the charm of her influence; +with the result of widespread renown +and unbounded wealth.... Therefore +it was that the blessing of God came +in another form—by the discipline of +suffering and trial. There was the +trial of loneliness. Soon bereft, as she +was, of her husband, of whose affection +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +we may judge by the way in which he +had laid all he possessed at her feet; +French and Catholic, living amongst +those who were not of her faith or +nation, though enjoying their devoted +friendship. With advancing years, deprived +by death even of those intimate +friends, she was lonely in a sense +throughout her life.... Nor must it +be omitted that her great gift to Cambridge +was not merely an easy one out +of superfluous wealth, but that it involved +some personal sacrifice. Friends +of late had missed the sight of costly +jewels, which for years had formed a +part of her personal adornment. What +had become of a necklace of rarest +pearls, now no longer worn?—They +had been sacrificed for the erection of +this very church."</p> + +<p>Again, in a Pastoral Letter by the +Roman Catholic Bishop of Northampton +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +to his flock, dated the 28th of +November 1894, he says: "We take +occasion of this our Advent pastoral, +to commend to your prayers the soul +of one who has recently passed away, +Mrs. Lyne Stephens. Her innumerable +works of religion and charity +during her life, force us to acknowledge +our indebtedness to her; she +built at her sole cost the churches of +Lynford, Shefford, and Cambridge, and +she gave a large donation for the church +at Wellingborough. It was she who +gave the presbytery and the endowment +of Lynford, the rectory at Cambridge, +and our own residence at Northampton. +By a large donation she greatly helped +the new episcopal income fund, and she +was generous to the Holy Father on +the occasion of his first jubilee. Our +indebtedness was increased by her bequests, +one to ourselves as the Bishop, +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +one for the maintenance of the fabric +of the Cambridge Church, another for +the Boy's Home at Shefford, and a +fourth to the Clergy Fund of this Diocese. +Her name has been inscribed +in our <i>Liber Vitæ</i>, among the great +benefactors whether living or dead, +and for these we constantly offer up +prayers that God may bless their good +estate in life, and after death receive +them to their reward."</p> + +<p>To the inmates of Foxwold she was +for nearly a quarter of a century a true +and loving friend, paying them frequent +little visits, and entering with the deepest +sympathy into the lives of those who +also loved her very dearly.</p> + +<p>The house bears, through her generosity, +many marks of her exquisite taste +and broad bounty, and her memory will +always be fragrant and beautiful to those +who knew her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>There are three portraits of her at +Roehampton. The first, as a most winsome, +lovely girl, drawn life-size by a +great pastellist in the reign of Louis +Philippe; the second, as a handsome +matron, in the happy years of her all +too short married life; and the last, by +Carolus Duran, was painted in Paris in +1888. This has been charmingly engraved, +and represents her as a most +lovely old lady, with abundant iron-grey +hair and large violet eyes, very +wide apart. She was intellectually as +well as physically one of the strongest +women, and she never had a day's illness, +until her fatal accident, in her life. +Her conversation and power of repartee +was extremely clever and brilliant. A +shrewd observer of character, she rarely +made a mistake in her first estimate of +people, and her sometimes adverse judgments, +which at first sight appeared +<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +harsh, were invariably justified by the +history of after-events.</p> + +<p>Her charity was illimitable, and was +always, as far as possible, concealed. +A simple-lived, brave, warm-hearted, +generous woman, her death has created +a peculiar void, which will not in our +time be again filled:—</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"For some we loved, the loveliest and the best,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">That from his Vintage, rolling Time hath prest,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">Have drunk their Cup, a Round or two before,</div> + <div class="verse indent2_6">And one by one crept silently to rest."</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"><a name="i_184.jpg" id="i_184.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_184.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<div class="keep-block"> +<div class="figcenter topspacing3"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> + <a name="i_185.jpg" id="i_185.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_185.jpg" + alt="Header" /> +</div> + +<h2>The Index</h2> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Studious he sate, with all his books around,</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Sinking from thought to thought, a vast profound;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Plunged for his sense, but found no bottom there;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Then wrote, and flounder'd on, in mere despair.</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Pope</span>.</div> +</div> + +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">America. Humours of a voyage to, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Baxter, Robert. His hospitality, <a href="#Page_53">53</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Bedford Town and Schools, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Binders and their work, <a href="#Page_41">41</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Bradley, A. G. Life of Wolfe, <a href="#Page_10">10</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Bright, John. Letter from, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Calverley, C. S., <a href="#Page_2">2</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Charles II. and Lord Northesk, <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Christie's. A sale at, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Christie's. Lyne Stephens sale, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Coleridge, Hartley. Letter from, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Combe Bank, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Craze, modern. For work, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Cunarder. On board a, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">"Cynical Song of the City," <a href="#Page_50">50</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li"> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> + Dickens. On over-work, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Dobson, Austin, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Ethie Castle and its ghost story, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Fox, Caroline. John Bright's letter to, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Fox, Mrs. Charles, of Trebah, <a href="#Page_128">128</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Fox, Mrs. Charles, and Hartley Coleridge, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Foxwold and its early train, <a href="#Page_51">51</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">French Revolution of 1848, <a href="#Page_85">85</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Gainsborough's portrait of Wolfe, <a href="#Page_8">8</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Ghost story at Ethie, <a href="#Page_104">104</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Gosse, Edmund. Poem by, <a href="#Page_61">61</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Grain, R. Corney. Sketch of, <a href="#Page_3">3</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " + " + His charity, <a href="#Page_4">4</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " + " + Letter from, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Guthrie, Anstey. Bon-mot of, <a href="#Page_52">52</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Hamilton's parodies, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Holmes, Oliver Wendell, <a href="#Page_59">59</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Humours of an Atlantic voyage, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">"Jane will return." A true story, <a href="#Page_119">119</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Jerrold, Douglas. Drawing of, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Laureateship, The, <a href="#Page_58">58</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Lehmann, R. C. Poem by, <a href="#Page_78">78</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Letter from John Bright, <a href="#Page_134">134</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Hartley Coleridge, <a href="#Page_129">129</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Charles II., <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + R. Corney Grain, <a href="#Page_6">6</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Lord Lauderdale, <a href="#Page_102">102</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> + " " + John Poole, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + John Ruskin, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + G. A. Sala, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Longfellow. Extract from, <a href="#Page_117">117</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Lyne Stephens, Mrs., <a href="#Page_144">144</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Sketch of her life, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Her art collections, <a href="#Page_147">147</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Thackeray's sketch of her, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Her death, <a href="#Page_154">154</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Her funeral sermon, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Great sale at Christie's, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Lytton, Robert, Lord. Poem by, <a href="#Page_60">60</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Manning, Cardinal, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Manning, Charles John, <a href="#Page_109">109</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Mayhew, Horace, <a href="#Page_67">67</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Meadows, Kenny. Drawing of, <a href="#Page_68">68</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Newgate. Visit to, <a href="#Page_34">34</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Northesk, Lord, and Charles II., <a href="#Page_101">101</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Parody. An unknown one, <a href="#Page_123">123</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Payn, Mr. James. His lay-sermons, <a href="#Page_126">126</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Poets who are not read, <a href="#Page_115">115</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Poole, John. Letter from, <a href="#Page_83">83</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Portland, Duke of, and his books, <a href="#Page_42">42</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Portraits of Mrs. Lyne Stephens, <a href="#Page_159">159</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"><i>Punch.</i> Memorials of, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " + Portraits of writers to, <a href="#Page_66">66</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Reynolds, Sir Joshua. Portrait by, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Ruskin, John. Letters from, <a href="#Page_137">137</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> + Sala, G. A. Letter from, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li"> " " + Picture by, <a href="#Page_69">69</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Sales at Christie's, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>, <a href="#Page_148">148</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Schools, Bedford, <a href="#Page_73">73</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Ségur, Marquis de. Portrait of, <a href="#Page_143">143</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Sheridan, R. B. Portrait of, <a href="#Page_11">11</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Stevenson, R. L., <a href="#Page_77">77</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Stories. American, <a href="#Page_18">18</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Scott, Canon. Sermon by, <a href="#Page_155">155</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Symon, Arthur. Poem by, <a href="#Page_63">63</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Texts, inappropriate, <a href="#Page_55">55</a>, <a href="#Page_56">56</a>, <a href="#Page_57">57</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Thackeray's description of Mrs. Lyne Stephens, <a href="#Page_145">145</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Westerham. Birthplace of Wolfe, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Wolfe, General. Portrait of, <a href="#Page_9">9</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Woods, Mr. Thomas H., <a href="#Page_13">13</a>.</li> + <li class="ndx-li">Work, modern. Craze for, <a href="#Page_48">48</a>.</li> +</ul> +<ul class="ndx-ul"> + <li class="ndx-li">Z---- sale of pictures, <a href="#Page_15">15</a>.</li> +</ul> + +<hr class="chap" /> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Reader</span> (<i>loquiter</i>).</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> + <div class="poetry"> + <div class="verse">"<i>Glad of a quarrel, straight I clap the door;</i></div> + <div class="verse indent2_6"><i>Sir, let me see your works and you no more!</i>"</div> + </div> +</div> + +<div class="right">—<span class="smcap">Pope.</span></div> + +<div class="figcenter topspacing2"> + <a name="i_188.jpg" id="i_188.jpg"></a> + <img src="images/i_188.jpg" + alt="Footer" /> +</div> + +<div class="transnote margin-top3"> +<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> +<ul> + <li>Minor typographical errors have been corrected without note.</li> + <li>Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant + form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.</li> + <li>Ambiguous hyphens at the ends of lines were retained.</li> + <li>Pictures of the Book Room have been moved. The List of Illustrations + paginations were not corrected.</li> + <li>Other corrections: + <ul> + <li>Page 89: 'Hotel des Affaires Étrangers,' changed to 'Hôtel des + Affaires Étrangères,'</li> + <li>Page 125: Caligraphy changed to calligraphy.</li> + </ul> + </li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Chats in the Book-Room, by Horace N. 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