Soon after I was seven I went away to school. My mother had inherited a
small income in bank-stock, and was able to go where she liked, which
she did freely. It was now Exmouth, now Teignmouth, Dawlish, Budleigh
Salterton, Tiverton, and other places, but she never found peace of mind
in any. She was throughout a long life in search of the Ideal which she
never found, and she handed the passion with the same result down to me.
She had a married sister, named Wallinger, at Gainsborough; so she took
us there. This sister, a year younger than herself, played the great lady
throughout as long a life as my mother’s: her husband, Captain Wallinger,
was the son of the Wallinger of Hare Hall in Essex, a county family; he
had been in the Dragoon Guards, and at a venture might be called the
finest and handsomest man of his time.
I remember the house where we lived at Gainsborough, and that of the
Wallingers, so well, that I could describe both to the satisfaction of
an artist, together with the surroundings, and the roads leading to
them, not forgetting a white wooden bridge that spanned the Trent, and
which we crossed in due time in a post-chaise into Yorkshire, where we
visited relations, the Rimingtons of Hillsborough, near Sheffield, the
beautiful grounds of which are now, perhaps, cut up for buildings by a
knife-grinding population. A descendant of this family is Rimington
Wilson of Bromhead, a famed grouse manor; another is Lord Ranfurly. I
remember even sitting on the left side of the carriage, and looking out
of the window at the water as we crossed the Trent.
One does not read faces from an early age, but I have a good recollection
of certain features; for instance, I can recall our “cousin” Rimington’s
powdered head. But after I was seven, I never forgot a face, and often
knew schoolfellows again, despite the changes time had worked, whom I had
not met for half a century.
It is not the features one recollects, but the demeanour and general
expression. One does not, as a rule, observe the features of others. A
man who had seen me every day for a year, said, “Well, I always imagined
your eyes were blue, but I now observe that they are hazel.”
In his novel of “Coningsby” Disraeli has introduced the character of Sir
Joseph Wallinger, the same Christian name as my uncle’s. There being
no other family of that name, I have often felt curious to learn what
circumstance led him to its selection. He may have been a visitor at Hare
Hall in his younger days. I shall have occasion to revert frequently to
the Wallingers.
We made a long visit to the Rimingtons; I retain the recollection of it
as one of much enjoyment. I remember the housekeeper promising me a penny
if I would sit still for an hour, which I did, and lost my money five
minutes after while rolling it about the floor; a suggestive episode. I
remember Mr. Rimington giving me sixpence, which I no sooner got than I
dropped it into a water-tank beyond recovery, as many have done since who
have shares in submarine telegraph companies.
This wealthy family, which must still dwell in the memory of many
Sheffielders, had only one son, whose three children may still live, with
the exception of Lady Ranfurly; the eldest is Rimington of Bromhead Hall,
with the suffix of Wilson.
Bromhead Hall manor must have the best grouse shooting in Yorkshire,
except that of Studley Royal. My grandmother’s sister, Mrs. Wilson, was
our cousin Rimington’s mother, and was a very stately lady. She lived
at Upper Tooting, where I once spent my holidays with her when I was at
school in London. One day, after a drive with her, she said, “Remember,
you have had a ride in your aunt Wilson’s carriage;” and these are the
only words of hers that I have borne in memory.
My grandmother, Mrs. Gordon, had two brothers besides the one already
named—William and Henry Clarke, of the City of London. William was one
of the Mercers’ Company, and is buried in their ground at Mercers’ Hall.
He lived at 72, Gracechurch Street, with his brother, who carried on
a business in the stationery trade, and made money. His elder brother
was rich, leaving over a hundred thousand pounds, but was never in
trade. These brothers died unmarried, and their wealth reached the next
generation, the elder attaining the age of ninety-five.