idea there was such a beautiful place in Sussex, such moss-grown oaks
and beeches; such deep ferny and heathy glens; such still pools, in
which all the autumnal tints are reflected; such winding forest-paths,
up and down and in and out of which Lady Delawarr has driven me with her
two ponies tandem; an infantine Medway, nearly to the source of which
the eldest boy, Cantilupe, rowed me through channels so narrow that one
could touch the great water-plants on either side. Then the house has
many delightful books and pictures, including two Sir Joshuas; and there
are two other old houses, semi-deserted, but with grand castellated
gateways, infinitely picturesque; and there is a monumental chapel,
where a marble Duke and Duchess of Dorset kneel eternally by the tomb of
the many children who died before them.
[Illustration: GATEWAY OF BUCKHURST.][411]
“The ‘company’ has been varied and amusing--Miss (Doll) Farquharson of
Invercauld, a perfect Niagara of amusing Scottish anecdote; Mr.
Broadley, of terrible review reputation; and the Roman Catholic Bishop
of Portsmouth, who has propounded many quaint riddles of his own
invention.
“Miss Farquharson described a minister at Invercauld, who, wishing to
flatter the family, stated in his sermon that the Farquharson tartan was
one of the oldest dresses in the world, as it was evident that Joseph’s
coat of many colours was made of it, ‘thereby giving mortal offence to
the Duffs, who sat in the opposite pew.’
“When the minister was changed, Miss Farquharson asked an old woman if
she liked the new one as well as the old. ‘Eh, I like him weel eneuch,
but he’s na sae frolicsome in the pulpit.’
“I made great friends with all the family at Buckhurst, down to the
little Margaret of three, who peoples all the forest with imaginary
bears and elephants, and talks to them, and of her adventures with them,
exactly as if they were realities. We picnicked on an island in the
lake, dreadfully damp, but it was very merry and pleasant.”
* * * * *
_“Burwarton, Shropshire, Oct. 23._--This is a beautiful place of Lord
Boyne’s, high in the Clee hills, with glorious views of the Welsh and
Malvern ranges, beyond exquisite wooded scenery. The house is modern,
but has good pictures, several representing members of the Medmenham
brotherhood, and one a Lady Paisley, an ancestress, who declared that
she did not wish to go to heaven if poor people went there. Many
pleasant people are here, especially a Mr. Bankes, who is very amusing
about the primitive ways of the Isle of Purbeck. At one time the people
of Corfe had been very good for some time, so that the lock-up had not
been used, and the Mayor, one Robert Taylor, had filled it with his
potatoes after they were dug up. But at last there was a man who was
very naughty indeed, and he had to be put in the lock-up, though there
was scarcely room for him even to stand in it, it was so full of the
Mayor’s potatoes. Late that night, some people going past stumbled over
a great heap lying in the middle of the road--quite a huge heap. It was
the Mayor’s potatoes, which the prisoner had amused himself by throwing
through the bars of the window: so then the Mayor was obliged to
compromise matters, and to let his victim out on condition of his
picking up all the potatoes and putting them back again.
“This Mayor, Robert Taylor, used to say, ‘I shall have to adjudicate
upon such and such a case to-morrow.’ He kept a shop where he sold hats.
One day he saw a neighbour walking by with a very smart shiny hat, and
called out, ‘Thomas, good-day, Thomas; you’ve got a new hat, may I ask
where you got it, Thomas?’--‘Well, I bought it at Wareham, Mr.
Taylor.’--‘Oh, you bought it at Wareham, did you? Very good, Thomas.’
Some days afterwards Thomas was set upon by a man in a lonely road and
very badly beaten, really very much hurt. He went to the Mayor and said,
‘Really, Mr. Taylor, I think I must take out a summons.’--‘A summons!
must you, Thomas? Well, you may just go and take it out where you bought
your hat.’
“The ignorance of the people in Purbeck is intense. A clergyman preached
about Zachaeus climbing into the fig-tree, &c. An old widow woman, who
had stayed at home, asked her son if he could tell her what the sermon
was about. ‘Yes, that he could,’ he said, ‘for it was all about Jack Key
(a bad character in the village), who had been up to summut, and was to
have to give half of all his goods to the poor.’
“Here, at Burwarton, witchcraft is generally believed in. A tenant said
the other day that his pig was bewitched by an old woman, and that it
would certainly die, unless he could have her blood; by which he meant
nothing murderous--a prick of a pin would do. Many of the neighbouring
clergy are bad. At a small hill-parish near this an old woman asked the
clergyman what he did for his rheumatism. ‘Well, I swear like hell,’ he
said.”
* * * * *
“_Oakley Park, Oct. 17._--A lovely place, with glorious old oaks
mentioned in Domesday Book. Ludlow is only 2½les off. Its castle,
which stands grandly opposite the entrance to the drive, is associated
with Prince Arthur, ‘Comus’ was acted there, and it was thence that the
Princes were taken to the Tower. It was also from Ludlow that the
pilgrims came who were met in the Holy Land by St. John when he gave
them the ring to take back to Edward the Confessor, and this story is
represented on the windows of the grand old church. Stokesay, which we
have been to sketch, is inimitably picturesque. Nothing can be kinder
than my present hostess, Lady Mary Clive, so considerate of all that can
interest or amuse one,[412] even whilst talking incessantly of her two
hobbies--Conservatism and Church matters. In the latter she is just now
in her glory, as the house is full of clergy for the Church Congress at
Ludlow, where all the ecclesiastics in the county are delighting, like
dogs, to bark and bite. There is _table-d’hôte_ for them here at every
meal, and the house is like a clerical hotel.”
* * * * *
_To_ MISS LEYCESTER.
“_Nov. 22, 1885._--Mother’s birthday! on which for so many years we have
been through the Catacombs (lighted up this one day of the year) to
visit the grave of S. Cecilia. My pleasant holiday and happy visits are
already becoming dreamlike, and it is as if my last time alone here
going on still, as I sit in my hill-set solitude. The wind whistles in
the fir-trees; a cow lows in the meadow for a lost calf; Rollo snorts
with fat, but is always ready to play with Selma the cat, though greatly
annoyed at her having given birth to a numerous progeny _in_ his bed;
new pigstyes are built, and a Lawsoniana hedge is planted round the
little garden up the steps. ‘The Holmhurst muffin-bell,’ as St. Leonards
calls it, already rung for a tea-party next Tuesday; and ‘the boys’ (now
Heddie Williamson and Freddie Russell) are due for their half-holiday on
Wednesday; George Jolliffe is coming to stay on the 4th; and for myself,
there is constant work to be done on ‘Paris,’ where, as I labour down
the highways, a thousand by-ways of interest and instruction are ever
opening up.
“I have, however, a little disappointment in Smith and Elder’s account,
nearly £300 to the bad again this year, and no gain whatever: so much
for the supposed riches of ‘a very successful author.’
“Just now also I am being most tremendously bored with the visit of
young ----, and am wondering if he will profit by one of George
Washington’s admirable ‘Rules of Civility,’ which I am going to read
aloud to him. ‘In the presence of others, sing not to yourself with a
humming voice, nor drum with your fingers or feet.’”
* * * * *
“_Powderham Castle, Nov. 14._--I have been spending a week with Charlie
Halifax in this beautiful place, which recalls the Little Gidding of
‘John Inglesant’ in its intense, its real saintliness--in the constant
chapel services with wonderful singing of the servants, in the
commemorative hymns for such saints as Martin and Bricius, in the spirit
of harmony and universal love, which rules everything. Lord Devon[413]
is absolutely seraphic. Charlie says he knows only two perfect forms of
happiness, reciting the Holy Office or attending the Board of Guardians.
‘I know one thing troubles you in respect of heaven,’ says Charlie, ‘it
is, that there are no boards of guardians there; but, dearest Lord
Devon, if they are quite essential to your happiness, I am sure that a
board will be created in some planet, with celestial paupers for you to
relieve.’
“When with the Halifaxes, I always become brimful of good intentions.
But then something comes back to me that I once heard a Countess Zitchi
say, ‘Moi, je suis tout-à-fait comme Jésus Christ, seulement il me
manque--la conduite!’
“We have had a delightful twenty-seven miles’ excursion to the very
curious old desolate house of Fulford and a picnic in its deserted
deer-park. Another day, Charlie, his uncle Francis Grey, and I, went to
Berry Head, a wild rock-girt promontory, with ruined walls of an old
fortress, looking on the bay crowded with Brixham trawlers.”
* * * * *
The latter months of 1885 found me quietly at home, exceedingly busy
over my work on France. As at all other times, except in fine summer
weather, I was chiefly alone, save when on Sundays some of my young men
friends--“the boys”--were generally at Holmhurst for two nights, being
usually those whose whole life is spent in bearing--
“The work-day burden of dull life,
About the footsore flags of a weary world;”[414]
for I have always felt how much, in similar circumstances, I should have
cared myself to have a friend and a homelike little refuge to go to.
Besides, “although in a very humble and apparently confined sphere of
action, who can tell the effect which our influence or that of our
conduct may have upon others, and its reaction throughout future
ages?”[415]
In latter years I have had better “material” in this respect; but it
must be allowed that, except in very rare cases, those I tried to be
useful to in former days turned out very ill. Here are just a few
instances:--
* * * * *
No. 1 was a gentleman once in a good position, who had fallen into
extreme poverty. I gave up being in London, I gave up going abroad, I
always went in an omnibus instead of a cab, always travelled second
class instead of first, to have £50 a year to give to No. 1. But when I
found that my poor gentleman always took a hansom even to cross Eaton
Square, I drew in my purse-strings.
No. 2 seemed very different. Rudely nurtured, he minded no difficulties,
and was willing to live hardly. He only cared for work, and his work was
science. He threw his whole life into it, and seemed on the eve of great
discoveries--in fact, he made them. But he had no one to help him to buy
the patents that were necessary, and I spent £800 for this, and
altogether many thousand pounds in his behalf. He was to have repaid
this sum if he became successful in life, but he made a very large
fortune, and “forgot to pay it.” Then, having lost his fortune again,
his originality and cleverness took another direction: he suddenly
turned Buddhist, cared for nothing but the divine essence, and went off
to India to join a brotherhood in which, after years of prayer and
fasting, he might hope to obtain the distinction of “a little yellow
garment.” He wrote then that his religion itself would prevent his ever
again forgetting that he owed me four thousand pounds with interest.
Yet, after his return, he repudiated his debt altogether, and denied
that he had even the slightest obligation to me. All I had spent was
thrown away! No. 2 was an utter collapse.
No. 3 wanted to be married. He had led a wild life, and his marriage
would “be the saving of him;” with his marriage a new page of his life
would be turned over; but to enable the marriage to be, a loan of money
was necessary. I sent the money, but the marriage never took place, and
the loan was never returned. No. 3 vanished into chaos.
No. 4 was very engaging and I became very fond of him. He was
perpetually at my home, where I always treated him as a younger brother,
giving him money when I was away for whatever he wanted. When he wished
to give a party to his friends in London, the food, the wine, the
flowers, came from Holmhurst. He had to work hard in a public office, so
every year I gave him money for the change of a Continental tour, and on
one occasion, when he had no other companion, I took him myself, and
showed him the whole of a foreign country. This went on for nine years.
Then a circumstance occurred which made me feel that he, in his turn,
might, not even for one day, but for one hour, be useful to me. Under
these circumstances I asked a favour of him. “No,” it was refused at
once, “it might not be to his advantage: it might even possibly be
rather inconvenient.” No. 4 collapsed.
No. 5 was a very young and ingenuous boy. I met him first when he was at
Oxford, when his family--country gentlefolk--were trying to compel him
to take Orders. He confided to me his misery about it, and his utter
unfitness. I backed him up in resisting. From that time I saw a great
deal of him. He was very affectionate to me, and I grew very fond of
him. His family, irritated at his opposition to taking Orders, refused
to go on spending money upon his education. I continued it, or thought
I did, by letter, sending him daily questions to answer by post, and
receiving _précis_ of History from him and correcting them. He was also
very frequently at Holmhurst for a long time together, and had more of a
real home there than with his own parents. Once, without my knowledge or
that of his family, he went to London, and got into terribly bad
companionship and disgracefully bad habits. He was plundered of all he
possessed, and had to pawn his watch to get away. To prevent the
discovery of this, which would have hopelessly estranged him from his
family, I redeemed his valuables for a considerable sum. He then seemed
penitent, promised amendment, and took refuge at Holmhurst again. About
a year after I found him on the eve of wilfully making an acquaintance
which was sure to cause his ruin. I pointed out to him the misery he was
bringing upon himself, and he promised to give it up. Then I found that
all the while he was promising to do nothing of the kind, he had been
constantly writing to the person in question, with whom he had no
previous acquaintance, making assignations for meetings, &c. From that
time he got into one miserable scrape after another. He sank and sank.
Whenever he has made a promise, he has always broken his word; nothing
he says can be believed; his every act must be mistrusted.... Now, he
has taken Holy Orders! This is the end of No. 5.
No. 6 was very dear to me. I had known him intimately from his earliest
childhood. Exceedingly unprepossessing in appearance, he gave the most
brilliant promise of a distinguished career. To me he showed the most
unbounded affection and confidence, but he never told the truth. This
led to a series of miserable deceptions which caused his expulsion from
school and brought about his failure everywhere. Dreaded, mistrusted, he
became alienated from his family, almost from his fellow-men. No
opportunity of extravagant folly occurred but was greedily seized upon,
to be followed by fresh falsehood. His whole life has been a sorrow to
those who know him, and who think mournfully of its beautiful “might
have been.”
I met No. 7 when he was eighteen. Of very lowly origin but gentle
instincts, he had been turned adrift at seventeen upon London to earn
his own living, and he seemed at first to be earning it bravely and
honestly. He was clever and was anxious to improve himself, and he spent
all his evenings in reading, and succeeded in teaching himself French.
By his own unaided efforts he had really given himself an education. At
first I used only to lend him books and do what I could to help his
reading. Then I frequently invited him to Holmhurst, and paid for his
coming there. He had a bad illness in London, when I went constantly to
him in his miserable garret, and supplied all his little comforts. About
a year after I first knew him, he yielded to a great temptation in
misappropriating a large sum of money belonging to the firm he was
serving, and spending it in a very disgraceful manner. It seemed as if
he really did this under a diabolic influence, and as if he really
believed that he should be able to replace the money before the theft
was discovered. But the time drew very near when his accounts would be
examined, and there was no chance--there never had been--that they would
be found correct. Then the full agony of his position came upon him, and
he confessed the whole to me and implored me to save him. The day before
the examination of accounts I replaced the stolen money, and the
defalcation was never discovered.
From this time he seemed to go on well, and I became much attached to
him. Five times a year I paid his expenses to Holmhurst, to give him
country air, treating him like my own son when he was with me. Then came
a time when, after several years, he fell into feeble health, and had to
leave his situation. I was then not perfectly satisfied with the way in
which he was going on, and did not think him as frank and candid as he
had been, but I took him home with me for a month to recruit. At
Holmhurst he had every kindness and indulgence, and was received not
only as an equal, but almost as a child of the house. At the end of a
month, he told me that he had heard of some very suitable employment in
London, and hoped that I would not object to his going to town to see
about it. I said, “Certainly not; but what is the employment?” To my
surprise, he said that he could not tell me then, but I should know
later. I was more surprised because, when he left, he was so unusually
affectionate--“I am very glad you are so fond of me, but I cannot
imagine why you should show it especially to-day, as you are coming back
in a few hours.” He never came back. It was many days before he wrote.
Then I had a formal letter saying that, when he went up to London, he
had been received into the Church of Rome at Brompton Oratory, and
enclosing a list of his possessions left at Holmhurst, and directions
for sending them. Since then he has sunk lower and lower. I have often
heard of him, and always a worse account. He is utterly lost to me. That
is the end of No. 7.
No. 8 was excessively good-looking, had pleasant manners, and was
especially winning to ladies. I had known his family long ago, and his
home, a very quiet rectory in a desolate fen district. When he was at
Oxford, I found him, like No. 5, very unhappy at being expected to take
Orders, for which he honestly felt himself unfitted, and I persuaded him
to tell his father that it was impossible. Then, as he was penniless and
had no prospects, it was necessary that a profession should be found for
him, and I obtained a nomination for him for the Foreign Office from
Lord Granville. He came to London to work for this, and he worked well.
Feeling that it would be most undesirable for him to go on in London,
especially to enter the Foreign Office, knowing no one in society, I
took him out with me every day to parties, and introduced him
everywhere, claiming all kindness for him as my intimate friend. His
good looks and pleasing manners made him very welcome. But he fell in
love with an Earl’s daughter. Strange to say, his suit was not rejected,
though a probation of two years was required, during which he must begin
to make an income. With this view, he abandoned all thought of the
Foreign Office and took to the Stock Exchange. A week before the end of
the two years’ probation, the lady, of her own accord, threw him over,
but, as far as love went, her place was soon supplied. By this time,
too, the young man had acquired _l’habitude de société_, had begun to
despise his humble relations, to cut his old friends, and a shake of the
Prince of Wales’s hand finally turned his head. He scarcely speaks to me
now when we meet. He openly says that, as he has gained all he can from
me, he naturally prefers “those who can be more useful” to him.
No. 9, poor fellow, was long a great anxiety to me. He was of good
family. He fell often--fell into the most frightful vice and shame. He
repented bitterly, and then fell again worse than before. But in one of
his best and truest times of repentance, God saw that he was positively
unable to cope with temptation, and he died--died most mercifully, full
of faith, hope, and gratitude. This was the end of No. 9. Thinking of
him has often brought to my mind Rossetti’s lines--
“Look in my face: my name is Might-have-been,
I am also called No-more, Too-late, Farewell.”
And yet--
“La bontà infinita ha sì gran braccia,
Che prende ciò che si rivolve a lei.”[416]
As I retrace here, on paper, the story of my failures, a sentence of
Balzac comes into my mind: “Il vous arrivera souvent d’être utile aux
autres, de leur rendre service, et vous en serez pen récompensé”; mais
n’imitez pas ceux qui se plaignent des hommes et se vantent de ne
trouver que des ingrats. N’est-ce pas se mettre sur un piédestal? puis
n’est-il pas un peu niais d’avouer son peu de connaissance du
monde?”[417]
And then Bunyan said in his last sermon (1692):--“Dost thou see a soul
that has had the image of God in him? Love him: love him: say, This man
must go to heaven some day. Do good to one another, and if any wrong
you, pray to God to right you, and love the brotherhood.”
And there is a line of Tasso which comes back to me in all times of
disappointment--
“Brama assai--poco spera--nulla chiede.”
END OF VOL. V.
_Printed by_ BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO
_Edinburgh and London_
ERRATUM
_Page 405_, _for_ “Shackborough” _read_ “Shuckborough.”
“Story of my Life.”--End of Vol. V.
THE STORY OF MY LIFE
VOL. VI
[Illustration: Charlotte Leycester]
THE STORY OF
MY LIFE
BY
AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE
AUTHOR OF “MEMORIALS OF A QUIET LIFE,”
“THE STORY OF TWO NOBLE LIVES,”
ETC. ETC.
VOLUME VI
LONDON
GEORGE ALLEN, 156, CHARING CROSS ROAD
1900
[_All rights reserved_]
Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
At the Ballantyne Press
CONTENTS
PAGE
BEYOND THE TOP OF THE HILL 1
IN PLEASURE AND PAIN 118
AT HOME AND ABROAD 192
SOCIAL REMINISCENCES 252
A KNOCKING AT THE DOOR 295
WRITING THE GURNEY MEMOIRS 337
IN MANY PLACES 393
FAREWELL 526
INDEX 539
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
VOL. VI
CHARLOTTE LEYCESTER. (_Photogravure_) _Frontispiece_
PAGE
THE DEANERY, BATTLE 5
L’ARICCIA 10
GALLERIA DI SOTTO, ALBANO 11
LAKE OF BOLSENA 12
S. DOMENICO, SIENA 13
MONTE OLIVETO 14
SENS 15
THE PARACLETE 16
THE PORCH, HOLMHURST 27
RIEZ 36
GRIGNAN 37
CLOISTER OF CAVAILLON 38
MONTMAJOUR 40
LES BAUX 41
LES S. MARIES DE LA CAMARGUE 42
LA SALETTE 43
DOMREMY, VILLAGE STREET 45
HOUSE OF JEANNE DARC 46
EMBRUN 47
CHÂTEAU DE VIZILLE 49
QUAYS OF GRENOBLE 51
SCOTNEY CASTLE 55
AT WESTMINSTER 64
THE GARDEN, HOLMHURST 98
THE MANOR WALK, HOLMHURST 110
ROSNY 113
ALNWICK CASTLE 137
HOLMHURST FROM THE SHRUBBERY 140
S. FLOUR, FROM THE SOUTH 147
CHÂTEAU DU ROI, S. EMILION 148
AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE, 1888. (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 150
S. NECTAIRE 151
GATE OF LA GUERANDE 153
PONT S. LOUIS, MENTONE 165
IN S. FRANCESCO NEL DESERTO 169
THE ROCKY VALLEY, HOLMHURST 171
FROM THE WALKS, HOLMHURST 174
ST. MICHAEL’S MOUNT 176
CEMETERY OF PERA, CONSTANTINOPLE 195
THE BATHS, BROUSSA 213
OBER-AMMERGAU 218
TOMB OF LADY WATERFORD, FORD 251
THE OAK WALK, HOLMHURST 254
THE VENETIAN WELL, HOLMHURST 255
BISHOP’S BRIDGE, NORWICH 260
SASSO 265
AT BORDIGHERA 266
AT REBEKAH’S WELL, NEAR S. REMO 267
AT S. REMO 268
GLEN AT S. REMO 269
CLAUDIAN AQUEDUCT 274
REMAINS OF TEMPLE OF JUPITER LATIARIS, MONTE CAVI 281
VENETIAN POZZO 292
BROADHURST 322
GROOMBRIDGE PLACE 323
AUGUSTUS J. C. HARE (_Photogravure_) _To face_ 336
EARLHAM HALL 338
MONT S. MICHEL 344
S. JEAN DU DOIGT 345
AT CARNAC 346
LES ROCHERS 347
QUEEN ANNE AT HOLMHURST 349
BELLA’S LOGHOUSE, ALDERLEY MERE 352
STOKESAY 382
PITCHFORD 383
IN THE WALKS, HOLMHURST 395
THE TERRACE DOOR, HOLMHURST 426
THE NAYLOR LANDING, HOLMHURST 430
THE ARSON STEPS, HOLMHURST 450
IN THE WALPOLE CORRIDOR, HOLMHURST 469
WARBLETON PRIORY, ON APPROACHING 471
WARBLETON PRIORY, SEEN FROM BEHIND 472
PORCH OF HOSPICE, HOLMHURST 477
THE AVE-VALE STEPS, HOLMHURST 481
IN THE CHURCHYARD, HURSTMONCEAUX 489
THE AVE-VALE GATE, HOLMHURST 492
IN THE UPPER CORRIDOR, HOLMHURST 503
THE PORCH, HOLMHURST 511
XXIV
BEYOND THE TOP OF THE HILL
“Un jour tout sera bien, voilà notre espérance!
Tout est bien aujourd’hui, voilà l’illusion.
* * * * *
Que tout soit mal ou bien, faisons que tout soit mieux.”
--ROUSSEAU.
“Il faut travailler en ce monde, il faut souffrir el combattre. On
aura bien le temps de se reposer toute l’érnité.