BRIGHTON HAUNTS
"_We went as children joyous, or oprest,
In some absorbing care, or blest,
In nodding conversation--hand in hand._"
--HONORA SHEE (THE LOVER'S DIARY).
My aunt appeared to me to be failing in health a good deal at the
beginning of 1888, and, though she sometimes seemed to be stronger,
and chatted with all her old interest in the things of the past,
there were days when she was so quiet and drowsy that I feared to
rouse her by talking. At other times she would like me to talk and
read to her as usual, but was so languid and tired that a little
smile and pressure of the hand I held was the only response she made.
In April she had a slight attack of bronchitis, and her doctor
ordered her opium to ease her lungs. She much objected to all
opiates, but her doctor's treatment seemed to ease her. She would
not let me sleep in her house, as she thought, as usual, that it
would "disorganize the household," but I went now nearly every night
across the park in the fragrant spring nights to inquire, under her
maid's window, if Mrs. "Ben" was asleep.
The owls had nested for years in a great tree by my aunt's bedroom
windows, and I loved to watch them in the moonlight hawking for the
food they had to supply in such abundance now to the screeching
owlets in the nest. The old birds used to sit on Aunt Ben's
window-sill, and hoot, and had done so, much to her pleasure, for the
sixty {272} or seventy years of her residence in the house; but now
her maid shook her head sadly, as she leant out of the window to tell
me of her mistress's condition, saying "That's an omen, m'am; the
dear mistress must be going soon." I answered irritably that the
owls had hooted there since Mr. Benjamin's time, as her mistress had
often told her, but felt her "Time will show, m'am," to be
unanswerable.
On these May nights, if he was at home, Parnell would walk across the
park with me and wait on a seat for me till I had obtained the latest
bulletin.
One morning, very early, when her night had been restless, I made
Mary Ann (my aunt's personal maid) come down and let me in. On going
up to the great four-post bed where the dear little old lady lay,
looking as small and frail as a child, she put out one, now feeble,
white hand, and held mine. I told the maid she could go and rest a
bit, and I would call her if my aunt wanted her.
When she was gone, my aunt, who was breathing with difficulty,
whispered as I bent down to kiss her hand, "You do believe, do you
not, my Swan?" I answered, "Yes, auntie, of course I do believe, most
firmly." She said, "I am glad. I wish you could come with me, my
darling!" and I sobbingly told her that I wished I could too.
I stayed by her side and smoothed her hand till she ceased to
breathe, and then waited by her as all her servants who had been with
her for many years filed past the bed, and took a last look at their
stern but just and much-loved mistress.
She left a great void in my life, and the sensation of being always
wanted and tied to one place that I had sometimes felt so keenly hard
I would now have given {273} much to feel again. With this old lady
died, so far as my acquaintance went, the last of the old world--that
old world of leisure and books and gentle courtesy of days when men
might wear their gallantry without foolishness, and women knew the
value of their sex.
Through all those years in which I waited on my aunt I never heard
her use a clipped word, or use a sentence not grammatically perfect
and beautifully rounded off, and although in the hurry of modern life
I sometimes felt impatient when chided for some swallowed
pronunciation or ignored g's, I look back upon the years of my life
spent in that old-world atmosphere as a very precious memory.
After my aunt's death Eltham became intolerable to me, and I took a
small country house near Mottingham till I could let my own house.
Directly we left Eltham the pretty garden was devastated by
relic-hunters, who pulled the place to pieces in obtaining mementoes
of "the house where Parnell had lived."
The house at Mottingham was damp, and we longed for the sea.
For various reasons we had been obliged to relinquish any idea of
living in the little house we had finished, with so much pleasure, at
Eastbourne, and at last we had removed the few things we had stored
there, and in 1887 had finally decided to take the end house of
Walsingham Terrace (No. 10), Brighton. Shortly after my aunt's death
we went down to live there. The position then was attractive to us:
cornfields from one side of the house away up to Shoreham basin and
harbour, a waste of hay at the back of the house, an excellent train
service and a sufficient distance from Brighton proper to enable us
to avoid the crowd. While we were living there people used to walk
and drive out to see "Parnell's house," but this was not {274}
particularly annoying, as when he was at home we went out early, or
late--anyhow, at a time when the average person is kept at home by
appetite. Personally, if it was not glaringly inconvenient, I was
always rather proud and interested in the popular attention Parnell
attracted wherever he went.
Here Parnell had the dining-room as his own sitting-room, where he
kept the roll-top desk I had given him for all his papers and
political work, while down in the basement there was a room in which
he had a furnace fitted up, and where we used to burn the crushed ore
before assaying it. We spent many hours down there, and I sometimes
feared the excessive heat must have been bad for him; but he did not
think so, and would become so absorbed in this work that I used to
have the greatest difficulty in getting him out for the gallop on his
horse President across the Downs, which did him so much good.
I found at length the only way was to get his cap and whip and show
them to the dogs. Immediately I did this they would begin to bark
wildly and jump up at him to make him start for the run they loved so
much. Parnell would then say reproachfully, "Oh, Queenie, how can
you deceive the poor dogs like that?" and I would answer that the
only way to keep them believing in us was to go at once for that
belated ride. Once started none of the party, dogs or horses,
enjoyed it more than he.
In this house we had from the side windows of Parnell's and from my
room in which he afterwards died, a view of the most wonderful
sunsets I have ever seen in England. Then the whole west was a
veritable fairyland of gold and crimson, and the harbour and Shoreham
town, with the little country church of Aldrington against the
setting of the Downs, were touched with a pearly mist of {275} light
that lifted them far out of the prosaic ugliness we knew by the blank
light of midday. Parnell used to say to me as we walked away to the
golden harbour, "Is it really like this, my Queen, or as we see it at
noon?" I could only reply that it was both--the both that made life
at once so interesting and so difficult.
Often in the following spring my King and I would drive out as far as
the foot of the Downs near the training stables beyond Southwick; and
then, climbing to the crest of the hills, go for long walks, away
over the Downs, walking or resting as we felt inclined, returning as
night fell, to drive home.
One sunny morning, lengthening into a brighter day, I especially
remember, when the south-west wind sent the flickering shadows across
the Downs where its sea-scents mingled with the sweet pungency of the
young herbage. As we walked along hand in hand we were gay in the
glorious spring of the year, feeling that while love walked so
closely with us youth could not lag too far behind, and in the wide
expanse of the South Downs, which appealed so much to both our
natures, we forgot all care and trouble.
Very far away, standing clear against the skyline, there was a figure
of a shepherd, his flock a little lower showed grey against the dull
green distance. He stood motionless, as these lonely Down shepherds
do. The tumbled heap by him, we said, was his dog. So we watched
him some miles away for more than an hour. We wondered what he
thought of, and whether all this lonely loveliness meant anything to
him, or if he would be glad to change his quiet life for the rush and
hurry of a town.
Presently, from where we sat, at the highest point of the hills, we
saw some horses going at full gallop over the training ground, the
horses straining at the bit, and {276} seemingly glad to be alive.
The dull thud of the hoofs came up to us to mingle with the incessant
trilling of the skylarks and the bleating of the distant sheep. Now
we turned seaward, overlooking Shoreham Harbour, and watched the
vessels going out to sea on voyages fraught with unknown
possibilities.
In spite of the excessive beauty of the scene, in the region of
thought it had a saddening effect on us; and, as the last gleams of
sunlight fell across the sea, lightly touching the sails as they
slipped out of the light into the wider darkness of the leaden waves,
we turned and retraced our steps, I leaning on his arm as we went
down to the valley again.
A favourite haunt of ours at Brighton was a little shop in Pool
Valley altogether devoted to the sale of pebbles and crystals of
various sorts, also of jet. Parnell did not like the jet, but was
greatly interested in the pebbles and the polishing of them.
He spent much time after we had found this shop in watching the
process of cutting crystals and polishing the pebbles. Onyx ball
beads he selected in sizes with the greatest care, and had a long
chain of them made for me with a gold ball between each two onyx
beads. To these he had added a locket composed of crystal and onyx,
and was much pleased with the result.
The chain, when finished, was a little heavy, but he had had such a
happy time in selecting each bead and so carefully matching the
markings that I wore it with a light heart till he noticed it was
rubbing my neck, and insisted upon my taking it off there and then
for ever.
Another favourite haunt of ours was Smith's second-hand bookshop in
North Street, where he would stand for an hour at a time poring over
old books on mechanics, {277} or mining, while I dug out "bargains"
amongst the poets of a bygone age, and discussed books with the
proprietor.
Parnell always tried to get a few days' shooting every year in
Ireland on the grouse moors he hired at Anghavanagh, and I had much
pleasure in getting together hampers of provisions for him in London
to take over with him, as the arrangements he had been used to before
I met him were decidedly primitive and very trying to his health. I
always found that a good supply of hams and tongues, with the very
best tea that I could procure, a new spirit kettle (every year) and a
goodly supply of rugs and blankets rendered him sufficiently
comfortable, and returned him to me without the acute attacks of
indigestion that had formerly rendered these holidays among the
mountains so little gain to him in health.
I had to insist upon his learning to make his own tea to save him
from the "stewed" tea made by his servant in Ireland, and I found it
better to label the tea I got for his personal use: "For presents,"
and that which he might give away: "For Mr. Parnell's own use," as he
said plaintively, "They seem to like my tea best!"
He used to love these shooting expeditions, but would never stay more
than a few days, as he could not bear to be away from me longer. I
used to wish it were possible for me to go to Ireland with him in
order that he might enjoy his shooting to the full, but that was
impossible, and he always declared that "Three or four days broke the
back of that little shoot, anyhow!"
For many months Parnell tried to invent a vessel which would so cut
through the water as to obviate any sensation of the motion of the
waves. When he had done this the ship was to be built, and I would
be enabled to cross the Atlantic as comfortably as I now made the
journey {278} to Brighton! Incidentally this invention was also to
make our fortunes. Although the building of the ship had to be
indefinitely postponed, the models made and tested by Parnell were
really wonderful. He had had no training in mechanics, nor did he
know anything of shipbuilding or engineering, except such information
as he obtained from the various books he read for amusement at rare
intervals--but these models he made, and tried off the underdeck of
the Chain Pier at Brighton, were extraordinarily ingenious.
I do not venture to record this on my own authority, for I know
absolutely nothing of such matters, but the firm, who cast the copper
"floats" for him from his plans, and continually altered and
corrected the models after trials, came to the conclusion that Mr.
"Smith" was on the verge of a very useful invention; though, to his
annoyance, they would not dissociate the torpedo-like structure from
Portsmouth and the Admiralty. I frequently took my children down to
Brighton for a few days' change, and on these occasions Mr. Parnell
would stay at a place near the Chain Pier, and we would spend most of
the day on the underdeck of the pier-head trying the "invention."
Once a hobby like this got hold of him he could think of nothing else
in his leisure time, and this note is a specimen of many sent round
from his hotel:--
Am making new float, which will sink five feet, and shall have it
ready to try to-morrow at 12.30. Will meet you on Chain Pier at
that hour. Am anxious to make this trial before returning, and
we will take Hassocks and Burgess Hill in afternoon on way back
to look at houses to let.
This new model we tried in all weathers, and, as at last it seemed to
answer perfectly, with the exception of its lack of speed, he said he
would patent it, and get {279} someone who had more knowledge than he
to overcome the speed difficulty. To my uninitiated mind the thing
looked like a treble torpedo-boat. Had he lived I think he would
have gone further into the matter, but, by the time this was
finished, one thing after another occurred with such rapidity that it
was perforce laid aside.
I remember one rough, stormy day when we had been much worried and
were wondering whether the time of waiting we had imposed upon
ourselves (that Ireland might not risk the leadership which seemed
her only hope) till the way could be opened to our complete union
before the world, was not to be too long for our endurance. It was a
wild storm, and Parnell had to hold me as we slowly beat our way to
the pier-head. The chains were up to prevent anyone going on to the
lower deck, but Parnell lifted me over, and we tried the "float,"
though it was useless to do so, as the waves shattered the slight
thing against the pier before Parnell could sink it to the required
depth.
Then we stood looking out at the great waves--so near, and shaking
the whole pier-head in their surge. Parnell remarked that the old
place could not last long, and as I turned to get a fresh hold on
him, for I could not stand against the wind, and the motion of the
sea sickened me, the blazing fires in his eyes leapt to mine, and,
crushing me roughly to himself, he picked me up and held me clear
over the sea, saying, "Oh, my wife, my wife, I believe I'll jump in
with you, and we shall be free for ever."
Had I shown any fear I think he would have done it, but I only held
him tight and said: "As you will, my only love, but the children?"
He turned then, and carried me to the upper deck, hiding my eyes from
the horrible roll and sucking of the sea beneath our feet.
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