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FIFTY-ONE YEARS OF VICTORIAN LIFE
All Rights Reserved
[Illustration: Margaret Countess of Jersey]
FIFTY-ONE YEARS OF VICTORIAN LIFE
by
THE DOWAGER COUNTESS OF JERSEY
London
John Murray, Albemarle Street, W.
1922
DEDICATED TO MY CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN
Printed in Great Britain by
Hazell, Watson & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury.
"What is this child of man that can conquer
Time and that is braver than Love?
Even Memory."
LORD DUNSANY.
Though "a Sorrow's Crown of Sorrow"
Be "remembering happier things,"
Present joy will shine the brighter
If our morn a radiance flings.
We perchance may thwart the future
If we will not look before,
And upon a past which pains us
We may fasten Memory's door.
But we will not, cannot, banish
Bygone pleasure from our side,
Nor will doubt, beyond the storm-cloud,
Shall be Light at Eventide.
M. E. J.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
AN EARLY VICTORIAN CHILD
The Duke of Wellington--Travelling in the Fifties--
Governesses--"Mrs. Gailey"--Queen Victoria at
Stoneleigh--A narrow escape--Life at Stoneleigh--Rectors
and vicars--Theatricals pp. 1-22
CHAPTER II
A VICTORIAN GIRL
Mentone--Genoa--Trafalgar veterans--Lord Muncaster and
Greek brigands--The Grosvenor family--Uncles and aunts--
Confirmation--"Coming out"--Ireland--Killarney--The
O'Donoghue--Myths and legends--The giant Benadadda pp. 23-50
CHAPTER III
MARRIAGE
Fanny Kemble--An old-fashioned Christmas--A
pre-matrimonial party--Fonthill Abbey--Engagement--
Married to Lord Jersey pp. 51-64
CHAPTER IV
EARLY MARRIED LIFE
Lord Jersey's mother--In London--Isola Bella, Cannes--
Oxfordshire neighbours--Caversfield Church--Life at
Middleton--Mr. Disraeli--Froude and Kingsley--James
Russell Lowell--T. Hughes and J. R. Lowell--Mr. Gladstone
on Immortality--Thought-reading--Tom Hughes and Rugby,
Tennessee--Cardinal Newman pp. 65-93
CHAPTER V
BERLIN AND THE JUBILEE OF 1887
Sarah Bernhardt--Death of Gilbert Leigh--In Italy, 1884--
Court Ball in Berlin--The Crown Prince Frederick--Prince
Bismarck--Conversation with Bismarck--Bismarck and Lord
Salisbury--Thanksgiving Service--Trials of Court
Officials--The Naval Review--Knowsley--Apotheosis of the
Queen pp. 94-121
CHAPTER VI
GHOST STORIES AND TRAVELS IN GREECE
Lord Halsbury's ghost story--The ghostly reporter--A
Jubilee sermon--Marathon--Miss Tricoupi--Nauplia--The
Laurium Mines--Hadji Petros--Olympia--Zante pp. 122-140
CHAPTER VII
VOYAGE TO INDIA--HYDERABAD
Mr. Joseph Chamberlain--Departure for India--Colonel
Olcott and Professor Max Mueller--Sir Samuel Baker--
Mahableshwar--H.H. the Aga Khan--Races at Hyderabad--
H.H. the Nizam of Hyderabad--Purdah ladies--Breakfast in
a zenana pp. 141-161
CHAPTER VIII
MADRAS, CALCUTTA, AND BENARES
Brahmin philosophers--Faith of educated Hindus--
Theosophists at Adyar--The Ranees of Travancore--The
Princesses of Tanjore--"The Heart of Montrose"--The
Palace of Madura--Rous Peter's Sacred Door--Loyalty of
native Indians--Passengers on the _Pundua_--The Brahmo
Somaj--Maharajah of Benares--Marriages of infants and
widows pp. 162-187
CHAPTER IX
NORTHERN INDIA AND JOURNEY HOME
The Relief of Lucknow--View from the Kotab Minar--
Sekundra and Futtehpore Sekree--The legend of Krishna--
The Jains--The Maharajah of Bhownuggar--Baroda--English
as Lingua Franca--Meditations of a Western wanderer--An
English plum-pudding--The Greek Royal Family--Original
derivations pp. 188-211
CHAPTER X
WINDSOR--EGYPT AND SYRIA
Dinner at Windsor--Voyage up the Nile--Choucry Pasha,
Princess Nazli--The Pigmies--Inn of the Good Samaritan--
The Holy City--Balbec--Damascus, Lady Ellenborough--
Oriental methods of trade--Smyrna--Constantinople--The
Selamlik--The Orient Express--Story of a picture pp. 212-239
CHAPTER XI
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF AUSTRALIA
War Office red tape--Balmoral--Farewell to England--
Voyage on the _Arcadia_--The Federation Convention--The
delegates--The Blue Mountains--Sir Alfred Stephen--
Domestic Conditions--Correspondence with Lord Derby--
Labour Legislation--The Ex-Kaiser--Lord Derby's poem pp. 240-265
CHAPTER XII
FURTHER IMPRESSIONS OF AUSTRALIA--NEW ZEALAND
AND NEW CALEDONIA
Yarrangobilly Caves--Dunedin--The New Zealand Sounds--
Hot Springs of New Zealand--Huia Onslow--Noumea--The
Governor of New Caledonia--The Convict Settlement--
Convicts in former days--Death of Lord Ancram pp. 266-286
CHAPTER XIII
TONGA AND SAMOA
Tongan ladies--Arrival at Apia--German plantations--R. L.
Stevenson--King Malietoa--The Enchanted Forest--King
Mataafa--The Kava Ceremony--A native dance--
Missionaries--Samoan mythology--Desire for English
protection--Visit from Tamasese--_An Object of Pity_--
Courage of R. L. Stevenson pp. 287-318
CHAPTER XIV
DEPARTURE FROM AUSTRALIA--CHINA AND JAPAN
Bushrangers--Circumstantial evidence--The Great Barrier
Reef--Coloured labour--Hong-Kong--Canton--The Viceroy of
Canton--Japanese scenery--Interview with the Empress--
The Sacred Mirror of the Sun Goddess--Christianity in
Japan--Daimios of old Japan--Japanese friends pp. 319-345
CHAPTER XV
JOURNEY HOME--THE NILE--LORD KITCHENER
The well-forged link of Empire--Columbus discovers
America--The Mayor cuts his hair--The pageant "America"--
Back at Osterley--The dahabyah _Herodotus_--Escape of
Slatin Pasha--How a King and an Arab evaded orders--The
Dervishes--Lord Kitchener pp. 346-368
CHAPTER XVI
DIAMOND JUBILEE AND DEATH OF QUEEN VICTORIA
Mr. Chamberlain, Colonial Secretary--The Queen at Temple
Bar--The South African War--Indian princesses--Lord and
Lady Northcote--The Victoria League--Mr. Chamberlain's
letter pp. 369-383
INDEX pp. 385-392
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
MARGARET, COUNTESS OF JERSEY (photogravure) _Frontispiece_
_After the portrait by Ellis Roberts at Osterley Park._
FACING PAGE
STONELEIGH ABBEY 18
THE LIBRARY, MIDDLETON PARK 68
_From a photograph by the present Countess of Jersey._
MIDDLETON PARK 68
_From a photograph by the present Countess of Jersey._
OSTERLEY PARK 238
_From a photograph by W. H. Grove._
GROUP AT MIDDLETON PARK, CHRISTMAS, 1904 370
FIFTY-ONE YEARS OF VICTORIAN LIFE
CHAPTER I
AN EARLY VICTORIAN CHILD
I was born at Stoneleigh Abbey on October 29th, 1849. My father has told
me that immediately afterwards--I suppose next day--I was held up at the
window for the members of the North Warwickshire Hunt to drink my health.
I fear that their kind wishes were so far of no avail that I never became
a sportswoman, though I always lived amongst keen followers of the hounds.
For many years the first meet of the season was held at Stoneleigh, and
large hospitality extended to the gentlemen and farmers within the Abbey
and to the crowd without. Almost anyone could get bread and cheese and
beer outside for the asking, till at last some limit had to be placed when
it was reported that special trains were being run from Birmingham to a
neighbouring town to enable the populace to attend this sporting carnival
at my father's expense. He was a splendid man and a fearless rider while
health and strength permitted--rather too fearless at times--and among the
many applicants for his bounty were men who based their claims to
assistance on the alleged fact that they had picked up Lord Leigh after a
fall out hunting. It was always much more difficult to restrain him from
giving than to induce him to give.
My mother, a daughter of Lord Westminster, told me that from the moment
she saw him she had never any doubt as to whom she would marry. No wonder.
He was exceptionally handsome and charming, and I believe he was as prompt
in falling in love with her as she confessed to having been with him. An
old relative who remembered their betrothal told me that she knew what was
coming when Mr. Leigh paid L5 for some trifle at a bazaar where Lady
Caroline Grosvenor was selling. The sole reason for recording this is to
note that fancy bazaars were in vogue so long ago as 1848.
My mother was only twenty when she married, and very small and pretty. I
have heard that soon after their arrival at Stoneleigh my father gave
great satisfaction to the villagers, who were eagerly watching to see the
bride out walking, by lifting his little wife in his arms and carrying her
over a wet place in the road. This was typical of his unfailing devotion
through fifty-seven years of married life--a devotion which she returned
in full measure.
I was the eldest child of the young parents, and as my grandfather,
Chandos Lord Leigh, was then alive, our home for a short time was at
Adlestrop House in Gloucestershire, which also belonged to the family; but
my grandfather died and we moved to Stoneleigh when I was far too young to
remember any other home. In those days we drove by road from one house to
the other, and on one occasion my father undertook to convey my cradle in
his dog-cart, in the space under the back seat usually allotted to dogs.
In the middle of a village the door of this receptacle flew open and the
cradle shot out into the road, slightly embarrassing to a very young man.
About the earliest thing I can recollect was seeing the Crystal Palace
Building when in Hyde Park. I do not suppose that I was taken inside, but
I distinctly remember the great glittering glass Palace when I was driving
with my mother. Of course we had pictures of the Great Exhibition and
heard plenty about it, but oddly enough one print that impressed me most
was a French caricature which represented an Englishman distributing the
prizes to an expectant throng with words to this effect: "Ladies and
Gentlemen, some intrusive foreigners have come over to compete with our
people and have had the impertinence to make some things better than we
do. You will, however, quite understand that none of the prizes will be
given to these outsiders." It was my earliest lesson in doubting the
lasting effects of attempts to unite rival countries in any League of
Nations.
[Sidenote: THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON]
Somewhere about this time I had the honour of being presented to the great
Duke of Wellington in the long Gallery (now, alas! no more) at Grosvenor
House. I do not remember the incident, but he was _the_ Hero in those
days, and I was told it so often that I felt as if I could recall it. My
father said he kissed me, but my mother's more modest claim was that he
shook hands.
My parents were each endowed with nine brothers and sisters--i.e. my
father was one of ten who all lived till past middle life, my mother was
one of thirteen of whom ten attained a full complement of years. Indeed,
when my parents celebrated their golden wedding they had sixteen brothers
and sisters still alive. As almost all these uncles and aunts married and
most of them had large families, it will be readily believed that we did
not lack cousins, and the long Gallery was a splendid gathering-place for
the ramifications of the Grosvenor side of our family. Apart from the
imposing pictures, it was full of treasures, such as a miniature crystal
river which flowed when wound up and had little swans swimming upon it. It
was here, later on in my girlhood, that I saw the first Japanese Embassy
to England, stately Daimios or Samurai in full native costume and with two
swords--a great joy to all of us children.
To go back to early recollections--my next clear impression is of the
Crimean War and knitting a pair of red muffetees for the soldiers. Plenty
of "comforts" were sent out even in those days. Sir George Higginson once
told me that when boxes of miscellaneous gifts arrived it was the custom
to hold an auction. On one occasion among the contents were several copies
of Boyle's Court Guide and two pairs of ladies' stays! So useful! The
latter were bestowed upon the French vivandiere. No W.A.A.C.s then to
benefit.
After the Crimean War came the Indian Mutiny, and our toy soldiers
represented English and Sepoys instead of English and Russians. Children
in each generation I suppose follow wars by their toys. Despite the
comradeship of English and French in the Crimea, I do not believe that we
ever quite ceased to regard France as the hereditary foe. A contemporary
cousin was said to have effaced France from the map of Europe; I do not
think we were quite so daring.
In all, I rejoiced in five brothers and two sisters, but the fifth brother
died at fourteen months old before our youngest sister was born. His death
was our first real sorrow and a very keen one. Long before that, however,
when we were only three children, Gilbert, the brother next to me, a baby
sister Agnes, and myself, our adventurous parents took us to the South of
France. I was four years old at the time and the existence of a foreign
land was quite a new light to me. I well remember running into the nursery
and triumphantly exclaiming, "There is a country called France and I am
going there!"
[Sidenote: TRAVELLING IN THE FIFTIES]
My further recollections are vague until we reached Lyons, where the
railway ended and our large travelling carriage brought from England was
put on a boat--steamer, I suppose--and thus conveyed to Avignon. Thence we
drove, sleeping at various towns, until we reached Mentone, where we spent
some time, and I subsequently learnt that we were then the only English in
the place. I think that my parents were very brave to take about such
young children, but I suppose the experiment answered pretty well, as a
year later they again took Gilbert and me to France--this time to
Normandy, where I spent my sixth birthday, saw the great horses dragging
bales of cotton along the quays at Rouen, and was enchanted with the ivory
toys at Dieppe.
I think that people who could afford it travelled more in former days than
is realised. Both my grandparents made prolonged tours with most of their
elder children. My grandfather Westminster took my mother and her elder
sisters in his yacht to Constantinople and Rome. My mother well remembered
some of her experiences, including purchases from a Turkish shopkeeper who
kept a large cat on his counter and served various comestibles with his
hands, wiping them between each sale on the animal's fur. At Rome she told
me how she and one of her sisters, girls of some twelve and thirteen years
old, used to wander out alone into the Campagna in the early morning,
which seems very strange in view of the stories of restraint placed upon
children in bygone days. As to my grandfather Leigh, I believe he
travelled with his family for about two years, to Switzerland, France and
the North of Italy. They had three carriages, one for the parents, one for
the schoolroom, and one for the nursery. A courier escorted them, and an
avant-courier rode on in front with bags of five-franc pieces to secure
lodgings when they migrated from one place to another. On one occasion on
the Riviera they met the then Grand Duke Constantine, who thrust his head
out of the window and exclaimed "Toute Angleterre est en route!"
[Sidenote: GOVERNESSES]
After our return from Normandy we were placed in charge of a resident
governess, a young German, but as far as I can recollect she had very
little control over us. We discovered that the unlucky girl, though of
German parentage, had been born in Russia, and with the unconscious
cruelty of children taunted her on this account. Anyhow her stay was
short, and she was succeeded about a year later by an Englishwoman, Miss
Custarde, who kept us in very good order and stayed till she married when
I was fourteen. Her educational efforts were supplemented by masters and
mistresses during the London season and by French resident governesses in
the winter months, but I do not think that we were at all overworked.
I doubt whether Miss Custarde would have been considered highly educated
according to modern standards, but she was very good in teaching us to
look up information for ourselves, which was just as useful as anything
else. Her strongest point was music, but that she could not drive into me,
and my music lessons were a real penance to teacher and pupil alike. She
would give me lectures during their progress on such topics as the
Parable of the Talents--quite ignoring the elementary fact that though I
could learn most of my lessons quickly enough I had absolutely no talent
for music. She was, however, a remarkable woman with great influence, not
only over myself, but over my younger aunts and over other men and women.
She was very orderly, and proud of that quality, but she worked too much
on my conscience, making me regard trivial faults as actual sins which
prevented her from kissing me or showing me affection--an ostracism which
generally resulted in violent fits of penitence. She had more than one
admirer before she ended by marrying a schoolmaster, with whom she used to
take long walks in the holidays. One peculiarity was that she would give
me sketches of admirers and get me to write long stories embodying their
imaginary adventures. I suppose these were shown as great jokes to the
heroes and their friends. Of course she did not think I knew the
"inwardness" of her various friendships, equally of course as time went on
I understood them perfectly. Miss Custarde is not the only governess I
have known who acquired extraordinary influence over her pupils. In Marcel
Prevost's novel _Anges Gardiens_, which represents the dangers to French
families of engaging foreign governesses, he makes the Belgian, Italian,
and German women all to a greater or less extent immoral, but the
Englishwoman, though at least as detestable as the others, is not immoral;
the great evil which she inflicts on the family which engages her is the
absolute power which she acquires over her pupil. The whole book is very
unfair and M. Prevost seems to overlook the slur which he casts on his own
countrymen, as none of the men appear able to resist the wiles of the
sirens engaged to look after the girls of their families; but it is odd
that he should realise the danger of undue influence and attribute it only
to the Englishwoman. Why should this be a characteristic of English
governesses--supposing his experience (borne out by my own) to be typical?
Is it an Englishwoman's love of power and faculty for concentration on the
object which she wishes to attain?
We liked several of our foreign governesses well enough, but they
exercised no particular influence--and as a rule their engagements were
only temporary. I do not think that Miss Custarde gave them much
opportunity of ascendancy. With one her relations were so strained that
the two ladies had their suppers at different tables in the schoolroom,
and when the Frenchwoman wanted the salt she rang the bell for the
schoolroom-maid to bring it from her English colleague's table. However, I
owed a great deal to Miss Custarde and know that her affection for all of
us was very real. She died in the autumn of 1920, having retained all her
faculties till an advanced age.
After all no human being could compete with our mother in the estimation
of any of her children. Small and fragile and often suffering from
ill-health, she had almost unbounded power over everyone with whom she
came in contact, and for her to express an opinion on any point created an
axiom from which there was no appeal. As middle-aged men and women we have
often laughed over the way in which we have still accepted "mama said"
so-and-so as a final verdict. As children our faith not only in her wisdom
but in her ability was unlimited. I remember being regarded as almost a
heretic by the younger ones because I ventured to doubt whether she could
make a watch. Vainly did I hedge by asserting that I was certain that if
she had learnt she could make the most beautiful watch in the world--I
had infringed the first article of family faith by thinking that there was
anything which she could not do by the uninstructed light of nature. She
was a good musician, and a really excellent amateur artist--her
water-colour drawings charming. Her knowledge of history made it
delightful to read aloud to her, as she seemed as if the heroes and
heroines of bygone times had been her personal acquaintance. Needless to
say her personal care for everyone on my father's property was untiring,
and the standard of the schools in the various villages was maintained at
a height uncommon in days when Education Acts were not so frequent and
exacting as in later years.
[Sidenote: "MRS. GAILEY"]
Another great character in our home was our old nurse. For some reason she
was never called Nanna, but always "Mrs. Gailey." The daughter of a small
tradesman, she was a woman of some education--she had even learnt a little
French and had been a considerable reader. Though a disciple of Spurgeon,
she had lived as nurse with my mother's cousin the Duke of Norfolk in the
days when the girls of the family were Protestants though the boys were
Roman Catholics. When the Duchess (daughter of Lord Lyons) went over to
the Roman Church the Protestant nurse's position became untenable, as the
daughters had to follow their mother. She told us that this was a great
distress at first to the eldest girl Victoria (afterwards Hope-Scott), for
at twelve years old she was able to feel the uprooting of her previous
faith. The other sisters were too young to mind. Gailey's idol, however,
was Lord Maltravers (the late Duke), who must have been as attractive a
boy as he became delightful a man.
Gailey came to us when I was about four, my first nurse, who had been my
wet-nurse, having married the coachman. Our first encounter took place
when I was already in my cot, and I announced to her that if she stayed a
hundred years I should not love her as I had done "Brownie." "And if I
stay a hundred years," was the repartee, "I shall not love you as I did
the little boy I have just left"--so we started fair. Nevertheless she was
an excellent nurse and a fascinating companion. She could tell stories by
the hour and knew all sorts of old-fashioned games which we played in the
nursery on holiday afternoons.
The great joy of the schoolroom children was to join the little ones after
tea and to sit in a circle while she told us either old fairy tales, or
more frequently her own versions of novels which she had read and of which
she changed the names and condensed the incidents in a most ingenious
manner. On Sunday evenings _Pilgrim's Progress_ in her own words was
substituted for the novels. Miss Custarde could inflict no greater
punishment for failure in our "saying lessons" than to keep us out of the
nursery. Gailey stayed with us till some time after my marriage and then
retired on a pension.
The Scottish housekeeper, Mrs. Wallace, was also a devoted friend and a
great dispenser of cakes, ices, and home-made cowslip and ginger wine.
Rose-water, elder-flower water, and all stillroom mysteries found an
expert in her, and she even concocted mead from an old recipe. Few people
can have made mead in this generation--it was like very strong rather
sweet beer. We all loved "Walley"--but she failed us on one occasion.
Someone said that she had had an uncle who had fought at Waterloo, so we
rushed to her room to question her on this hero's prowess. "What did your
uncle do at Waterloo?" The reply was cautious and rather chilling: "I
believe he hid behind his horse." She looked after all our dogs and was
supposed to sleep with eight animals and birds in her room.
[Sidenote: QUEEN VICTORIA AT STONELEIGH]
In the summer of 1858 a great event occurred in the annals of Stoneleigh.
Queen Victoria stayed at my father's for two nights in order to open Aston
Hall and Park, an old Manor House and property, which had belonged to the
Bracebridge family and had been secured for the recreation of the people
of Birmingham. Naturally there was great excitement at the prospect. For
months beforehand workmen were employed in the renovation and redecoration
of the Abbey and its precincts. Many years afterwards an ex-coachpainter
met one of my sons and recalled to him the glorious days of preparation
for Her Majesty's visit. "Even the pigsties were painted, sir," said he.
Stoneleigh is a large mass of buildings--parts of the basement remain from
the original Abbey of the Cistercian monks. On these was built a
picturesque house about the beginning of the seventeenth century, early in
the eighteenth century a large mansion was added in the classical Italian
style, and about a hundred years later a new wing was erected to unite the
two portions. The old Abbey Church stood in what is now a lawn between the
house and the ancient Gateway, which bears the arms of Henry II. To put
everything in order was no light task. The rooms for the Queen and Prince
Consort were enclosed on one side of the corridor leading to them by a
temporary wall, and curtained off where the corridor led to the main
staircase. In addition to every other preparation, the outline of the
gateway, the main front of the house, and some of the ornamental
flower-beds were traced out with little lamps--I think there were
22,000--which were lighted at night with truly fairy-like effect. By that
time we were five children--the house was crowded in every nook and corner
with guests, servants, and attendants of all kinds. Somehow my brother
Gilbert and I were stowed away in a room with two or three maids, but the
"little ones," Agnes and two small brothers Dudley and Rupert, were sent
to the keeper's house in the Deerpark. That house was a delightful
old-world building standing on a hill with a lovely view, and we were
occasionally sent there for a day or two's change of air, to our great
joy.
On the occasion of the Royal Visit, however, Gilbert and I quite realised
our privilege in being kept in the Abbey and allowed to stand with our
mother and other members of the family to welcome the Queen as the
carriage clattered up with its escort of Yeomanry. My father had, of
course, met Her Majesty at the station. The Queen was more than gracious
and at once won the hearts of the children--but we did not equally
appreciate the Prince Consort. Assuredly he was excellent, but he was very
stiff and reserved, and I suppose that we were accustomed to attentions
from our father's guests which he did not think fit to bestow upon us,
though the Queen gave them in ample measure.
We were allowed to join the large party of guests after dinner, and either
the first or the second evening witnessed with interest and amusement the
presentation of the country neighbours to the Queen. Having been carefully
instructed as to our own bows and curtsies, we naturally became very
critical of the "grown-up" salutations, particularly when one nervous lady
on passing the royal presence tossed her head back into the air by way of
reverence. I think the same night my father escorted the Queen into the
garden in front of the house, which was separated from part of the Park by
a stone balustrade. In this park-ground several thousand people had
assembled who spontaneously broke into "God save the Queen" when she
appeared. Fortunately the glorious hot summer night (July) was ideal for
the greeting.
One morning our small sister and brothers were brought to the Abbey "to be
presented." Agnes made a neat little curtsy, though we unkindly asserted
that it was behind the Queen's back, but the baby boys were overcome by
shyness and turned away from the Queen's kisses. Unfortunate children!
they were never allowed to forget this!
[Sidenote: THE PRINCE CONSORT]
Poor Prince Consort lost his last chance of good feeling from Gilbert and
myself when he and the Queen went to plant memorial trees. We rushed
forward to be in time to see the performance, but he sternly swept us from
the royal path. No doubt he was justified in bidding us "stand back," but
he might have remembered that we were children, and his host's children,
and done it more gently.
I shall refer to our dear Queen later on, but may here insert a little
incident of her childhood which came to my knowledge accidentally. In the
village belonging to my married home, Middleton Stoney, there was a
middle-aged policeman's wife who cultivated long ringlets on either side
of her face. She once confided to me that as a child she had had beautiful
curls, and that, living near Kensington Palace, they had on one occasion
been cut off to make "riding curls" for Princess (afterwards Queen)
Victoria, who had lost her own hair--temporarily--from an illness. The
child had not liked this at all, though she had been given some of the
Princess's hair as an equivalent. I imagine that her parents received more
substantial payment.
Our childhood was varied by a good deal of migration. We were regularly
taken each year about May to our father's London house, 37 Portman Square,
where we entertained our various cousins at tea-parties and visited them
in return. We were generally taken in the autumn to some seaside place
such as Brighton, Hastings, Rhyl, or the Isle of Wight. We estimated the
merits of each resort largely according to the amount of sand which it
afforded us to dig in, and I think Shanklin in the Isle of Wight took the
foremost place in our affections.
[Sidenote: A NARROW ESCAPE]
Two years, however, had specially delightful autumns, for in each of these
our father took a moor in Scotland--once Kingairloch and the second time
Strontian. On each occasion I accompanied my parents; to Kingairloch,
Gilbert (Gilly he was always called) came also--the second year he spent
half the time with us and then returned to his tutor and Agnes, and Dudley
took his place for the remainder of our stay. How we enjoyed the fishing,
bathing in the loch, and paddling in the burns! Everyone who has spent the
shooting season in Scotland knows all about it, and our experiences,
though absolutely delightful, did not differ much from other people's.
These visits were about 1860 and 1861. The railroad did not extend nearly
so far as at present and the big travelling-carriage again came into play.
One day it had with considerable risk to be conveyed over four ferries and
ultimately to be driven along a mountainous road after dark. As far as I
remember we had postilions--certainly the charioteer or charioteers had
had as much whisky as was good for them, with the result that the back
wheels of the heavy carriage went right over the edge of a precipice. The
servants seated behind the carriage gave themselves over for lost--we
children were half-asleep inside and unconscious of our peril, when the
horses made a desperate bound forward and dragged the carriage back on to
the road. We were taken later to see the place with the marks of the
wheels still plain on the rocky edge--and young as we were could quite
realise what we had escaped. Both shooting lodges were situated in the
midst of the lovely mountain scenery of North Argyllshire, possibly
Kingairloch was the more beautiful of the two. One day from dawn to eve
the mountains echoed and re-echoed with the plaintive bleating of flocks,
and we were told that it was because the lambs were taken from their
mothers. I still possess some verses which my mother wrote on that
occasion, and transcribe them to show that she had a strong poetic as well
as artistic vein:
"Far over the mountains and over the corries
Echoed loud wailings and bleatings the day
When from the side of the mothers that loved them
The lambs at Kingairloch were taken away.
"Vainly, poor mothers, ye watch in the valley
The nook where your little ones gambolled before,
Vainly ye climb to the heights of the mountains--
They answer you not, and shall answer no more!
"Never again from that stream-silvered hill-side,
Seeking fresh grass betwixt harebell and heather,
Shall you and your lambkins look back on Loch Corry,
Watching the flight of the sea-bird together.
"No more, when the storm, striking chords on the mountains,
Drives down the thick mists their tall summits to hide,
Shall you give the sweet gift of a mother's protection
To the soft little creatures crouched down by your side.
"Past the sweet peril! and gone the sweet pleasure!--
Well might the echoes tell sadly that day
The plaint of the mothers that cried at Kingairloch
The day that the lambs were taken away."
Visits to Scotland included sojourns at Ardgowan, the home of our uncle
and aunt Sir Michael and Lady Octavia Shaw-Stewart on the Clyde. Aunt
Occy, as we called her, was probably my mother's favourite sister--in any
case her children were our favourite cousins on the Grosvenor side, and we
loved our many visits to Ardgowan both when we went to the moors and in
after years. There were excursions on the hills and bathing in the
salt-water of the Clyde, fishing from boats, and shells to be collected on
the beach. Also my uncle had a beautiful yacht in which he took us
expeditions towards Arran and to Loch Long from which we were able to go
across the mountain pass to Loch Lomond.
My grandmother Lady Leigh died in 1860, before which time she used to pay
lengthened visits to Stoneleigh accompanied by three or four unmarried
daughters. She was a fine handsome old lady. Her hair had turned white
when she was about thirty-two, but, as old ladies did in those days, she
wore a brown front with a black velvet band. She had a masterful temper
and held her daughters in considerable awe, but, after the manner of
grandparents, was very kind to us. I fancy that so many unmarried
sisters-in-law may have been a slight trial to my mother, but we regarded
our aunts as additional playfellows bound to provide us with some kind of
amusement. The favourite was certainly "Aunt Georgy," the youngest
daughter but one. She had an unfailing flow of spirits, could tell stories
and join in games, and never objected to our invasion of her room at any
time. Poor "Aunt Gussie" (Augusta) was less fortunate: she had bad health
and would scold us to make us affectionate--an unsuccessful method to say
the least of it--the natural result was, I fear, that we teased her
whenever opportunity offered. Aunt Georgie was very good-looking and I
believe much admired. She did not, however, marry till she was about
forty. A Colonel Newdigate, whose runaway horse she had stopped when quite
a girl, had fallen in love with her and wanted to marry her. She
persistently refused and he married someone else. When his wife died, he
returned to his first affection and ultimately melted my Aunt's heart. She
had no children of her own, but was a good stepmother to his only son--now
Sir Frank Newdegate, Governor of West Australia.
[Sidenote: LIFE AT STONELEIGH]
Stoneleigh offered every possible amusement to children--long galleries
and passages to race up and down, a large hall for battledore and
shuttlecock and other games, parks and lawns for riding and cricket, and
the River Avon at the bottom of the garden for fishing and boating, not to
mention skating in hard winters. People are apt to talk and write as if
"Early Victorian" and "Mid-Victorian" children were kept under strict
control and made to treat their elders with respectful awe. I cannot
recall any undue restraint in our case. As I have already said, our mother
was an influence which no one would have attempted to resist, but she
never interfered with any reasonable happiness or amusement. Our father
was the most cheerful of companions, loving to take us about to any kind
of sights or entertainments which offered, and buying us toys and presents
on every possible occasion. The only constraint put upon us, which is not
often used with the modern child, concerned religious observance. We had
to come in to daily Prayers at 10 o'clock even if it interfered with
working in our gardens or other out-door amusement--and church twice on
Sundays was the invariable rule as soon as we were old enough to walk to
the neighbouring villages of Stoneleigh and Ashow, or to attend the
ministrations of the chaplain who generally officiated once each Sunday in
the chapel in the house. We had to learn some "Scripture lesson" every day
and two or three on Sundays, and I being the eldest had not only to repeat
these Sunday lessons to my mother, but also to see in a general way that
my younger brothers and sisters knew theirs. I was made to learn any
number of chapters and hymns, and Scripture catechisms--not to speak of
the Thirty-nine Articles! At last when mother and governess failed to find
something more to learn by heart I was told to commit portions of Thomas a
Kempis to memory. Here, I grieve to confess, I struck--that is to say, I
did not venture actually to refuse, but I repeated the good brother's
words in such a disagreeable and discontented tone of voice that no one
could stand it, and the attempt to improve me in this way was tacitly
abandoned.
[Illustration: STONELEIGH ABBEY.]
[Sidenote: RECTORS AND VICARS]
On the whole I feel sure that the advantages of acquiring so many great
truths, and generally in beautiful language, far outweighed any passing
irritation that a young girl may have felt with these "religious
obligations." If it is necessary to distinguish between High and Low
Church in these matters, I suppose that my parents belonged to the
orthodox Evangelical School. I have a vague recollection of one Vicar of
Stoneleigh still preaching in the black silk Geneva gown. At Ashow--the
other church whose services we attended--the Rector when I was small was
an old Charles Twisleton, a cousin of my father's. He, however, had
discarded the black gown long before my day. My father told me that when
the new Oxford School first took to preaching in surplices Mr. Twisleton
adopted this fashion. Thereupon the astonished family at the Abbey
exclaimed, "Oh, Cousin Charles, are you a Puseyite?" "No, my dears," was
the confidential reply, "but black silk gowns are very expensive and mine
was worn out." Probably many poor clergymen were glad to avail themselves
of this economical form of ritual. I have an idea that Rudyard Kipling's
Norman Baron's advice to his son would have appealed to my parents had it
been written in their day:
"Be polite but not friendly to Bishops,
And good to all poor Parish priests."
I feel that they were "friendly to Bishops" when they met, and they were
certainly good to all the Rectors and Vicars of the various villages which
belonged to my father or of which the livings were in his gift, but they
had no idea of giving their consciences into ecclesiastical keeping. In
fact my grandmother Westminster once said to my mother, "My dear, you and
I spend much of our lives in rectifying the errors of the clergy"; those
excellent men often failing in business capacity.
The church services at both our churches were simple to a degree. At
Stoneleigh the organ was in the gallery and the hymns were sung by the
schoolchildren there. The pulpit and reading-desk were part of what used
to be called a "three-decker" with a second reading-desk for the clerk.
This was exactly opposite our large "Squire's Pew" across the aisle. There
had from time immemorial been a Village Harvest Home with secular
rejoicings, but at last there came the great innovation of service with
special decoration and appropriate Psalms and Lessons in church. I do not
know the exact year, but think that it must have been somewhere in the
sixties, after my Uncle James--my father's youngest brother--became Vicar
of Stoneleigh, as it must have been his influence which induced my father
to consent to what he considered slightly ritualistic.
However, all went well till it came to the Special Psalms. The choir had
nothing to do with leading responses--these pertained to the clerk--old
Job Jeacock--and when the first "special" was given out he utterly failed
to find it. The congregation waited while he descended from his
desk--walked across the aisle to our pew and handed his Prayerbook to me
that I might help him out of his difficulty!
Decorations in the churches at Christmas were fully approved, and of
course the house was a bower of holly, ivy and mistletoe--these were
ancient customs never omitted in our home. Christmas was a glorious time,
extending from the Villagers' Dinner on S. Thomas's Day to the Ball on our
father's birthday, January 17th--a liberal allowance. The children dined
down on both Christmas Day and New Year's Day, and there was always a
Christmas Tree one evening laden with toys and sweetmeats. Among other
Christmas customs there was the bullet-pudding--a little hill of flour
with a bullet on the top. Each person in turn cut a slice of the pudding
with his knife, and when the bullet ultimately fell into the flour whoever
let it down had to get it out again with his mouth. Snap-dragon was also a
great institution. The raisins had to be seized from a dish of burning
spirits of wine, presided over by "Uncle Jimmy" (the clergyman) dressed
as a ghost in a sheet, who had regularly on this occasion to thrill us
with a recitation of "Alonzo the Brave and Fair Imogene"--the faithless
lady who was carried off from her wedding feast by the ghost of her lover.
Of course her fate was inextricably mixed up in our minds with the flame
of the snap-dragon.
[Sidenote: THEATRICALS]
Twelfth Night, with drawing for characters, was duly honoured--nor were
private theatricals forgotten. Like all children we loved dressing-up and
acting. The first "regular" play with family and household for audience in
which we performed was _Bluebeard_, written in verse by my mother, in
which I was Fatima. After that we had many performances--sometimes of
plays written by her and sometimes by myself. I do not think that we were
budding Irvings or Ellen Terrys, but we enjoyed ourselves immensely and
the audiences were tolerant.
More elaborate theatricals took place at Hams Hall, the house of Sir
Charles Adderley (afterwards Lord Norton), who married my father's eldest
sister. They had a large family, of whom five sons and five daughters grew
up. These young people were devoted to acting and some of us occasionally
went over to assist--at least I recollect performing on one occasion--and
we often saw these cousins either at Hams or at Stoneleigh, the houses
being at no great distance apart. The youngest son, afterwards well known
as Father Adderley, was particularly fond of dressing up--he was a
well-known actor--and I am not sure that he did not carry his histrionic
tastes into the Church of which he was a greatly esteemed prop. Another
numerous family of cousins were the children of my father's fifth sister,
married to the Rev. Henry Cholmondeley--a son of Lord Delamere--who held
the living of my father's other place--Adlestrop. Uncle Cholmondeley was
clever and devoted enough to teach all his five sons himself without
sending them to preparatory schools; and between his teaching and their
abilities, most, if not all, of them won scholarships to aid their careers
at public schools. With their four sisters they were a noisy but amusing
set of companions, and we always enjoyed their visits. My father's
youngest sister was not old enough for her children to be our actual
contemporaries, but when she did marry--Mr. Granville Leveson-Gower of
Titsey--she had twelve sons and three daughters--a good record.
My mother's sisters rivalled my father's in adding to the population--one,
Lady Macclesfield, having had fifteen children, of whom twelve were alive
to attend her funeral when she died at the age of ninety. So I reckoned at
one time that I had a hundred _first_ cousins alive, and generally found
one in whatever quarter of the globe I chanced to visit.
Speaking of theatrical performances, I should specially mention my
father's next brother, Chandos Leigh, a well-known character at the Bar,
as a Member of the Zingari, and in many other spheres. Whenever
opportunity served and enough nephews and nieces were ready to perform he
wrote for us what he called "Businesses"--variety entertainments to follow
our little plays--in which we appeared in any capacity--clowns, fairies,
Shakespeare or Sheridan characters, or anything else which occurred to him
as suited to our various capacities, and for which he wrote clever and
amusing topical rhymes.