XXXI Farewell
“Pleasure to our hot grasp
Gives flowers after flowers;
With passionate warmth we grasp
Hand after hand in ours:
Now do we soon perceive how fast our youth is spent.”
—Matthew Arnold.
“Oh, He has taught us what reply to make,
Or secretly in spirit, or in words,
If there be need, when sorrowing men complain
The fair illusions of their youth depart,
All things are going from them, and to-day
Is emptier of delights than yesterday,
Even as to-morrow will be barer yet:
We have been taught to feel this need not be,
This is not life’s inevitable law;
But that the gladness we are called to know
Is an increasing gladness, that the soil
Of the human heart, tilled rightly, will become
Richer and deeper, fitted to bear fruit
Of an immortal growth from day to day,
Fruit of love, life, and inefficient joy.”
—R. C Trench.
“Lord, I owe thee a death: let it not be terrible: yet Thy will, not mine, be done.”
—Hooker.
“When the tapers now burn blue,
And the comforters are few,
And that number more than true,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!”
—Herrick.
I mUST close this book. Printers are calling for its last pages. It is like seeing an old friend go forth into a new world, and wondering if those who inhabit it will understand him and treat him well. Perhaps no one will read it except the intimate circle—a large one certainly—who have loved Hurstmonceaux, Stoke, and little Holmhurst at different times. But I can never regret having written it, and it has been so great an enjoyment to me, that perhaps others may like it; for I have concealed nothing, and Coleridge says, “I could inform the dullest author how he might write an interesting book. Let him relate the events of his own life with honesty, not disguising the feelings that accompanied them.”597
Most people will say two volumes would have been enough, but the fact is I have written chiefly for myself and my relations, and not for the general public at all. They may read the book if they like, but it was not intended for them, and, as Walter Scott describes it—
“Most men, when drawn to speak about themselves,
Are moved by little and by little to say more
Than they first dreamt; until at last they blush,
And can but hope to find secret excuse
In the self-knowledge of their auditors.”598
Except that I have seen more varieties of people than some do, I believe there has been nothing unusual in my life. All lives are made up of joys and sorrows with a little calm, neutral ground connecting them; though, from physical reasons perhaps, I think I have enjoyed the pleasures and suffered in the troubles more than most. But from the calm backwater of my present life at Holmhurst, as I overlook the past, the pleasures seem to predominate, and I could cordially answer to any one who asked me “Is life worth living?”—“Yes, to the very dregs.”
Sainte-Beuve says, “Il est donné, de nos jours, à un bien petit nombre, même parmi les plus délicats et ceux qui les apprécient le mieux, de recueillir, d’ordonner sa vie selon ses admirations et selon ses goûts, avec suite, avec noblesse.” And latterly my days have been “avec suite;” “avec noblesse” is what they ought to have been. In my quiet home, of which little has been said in these volumes, days succeed each other unmarked, but on the whole happy, though sometimes very lonely. The whole time passes very quickly, yet it is, as I remember the Grand Duchess Stephanie of Baden wrote to my aunt Mrs. Stanley—“In youth the years are long, the moments short, but in age the moments are long, the years short.” Really I have been alone here for thirty years, twelve in which my dearest Lea was still presiding over the lower regions of the house, and eighteen in absolute solitude. It is the winter evenings, after the early twilight has set in, which are the longest. Then there are often no voices but those of the past:—
“Time brought me many another friend
That loved me longer;
New love was kind, but in the end
Old love was stronger.
Years come and go, no New Year yet
Hath slain December,
And all that should have cried, Forget!
Cried but—Remember!”
People say, “It is all your own fault that you are solitary; you ought to have married long ago.” But they know nothing about it; for as long as my mother lived, and for some time after, I had nothing whatever to marry upon, and after that I had very little, and I have been constantly reminded that people of the class in which I have always lived do not like to marry paupers. Besides, the fact is, that except in one impossible case perhaps, very long ago, “I have never loved any one well enough to put myself in a noose for them: it is a noose, you know.”599 What I have to regret is that I have no very near relations who have in the least my own interests and sympathies, though they are all very kind to me. I have far more in common with many of my younger friends, “the boys,” who cease to be boys after a few years, and many of whom, I am sure, turn to Holmhurst as the haven of their lives. But one feels that there would be this difference between any very congenial near relations and even the kindest friends: the latter are very glad to see one, but would be very sorry to see more of one; whilst the former, if they existed, would take it as a matter of course.
By friends I often feel that I am greatly over-estimated, so many ask my advice, and act upon what I tell them. It is a responsibility, but I feel that I am right in urging what I have always found answer in my own case, and what has greatly added to my happiness. When a wrong, sometimes a very cruel wrong, is done to one, one must not try at once to do some good to those who have done it, because that would be to mortify them; but if one immediately, at once, sets to think of what one can do for somebody else, it takes out the taste. Then one can very soon paste down that unpleasant page of life, as if it had never existed, and all will be as before.
Also, always believe the best of people till the worst is proved, and meditate not on your miseries, but your blessings.
The greatest of all the blessings I have to be grateful for is, that though, since my serious illness six years ago, I have never been entirely without pain, I have, notwithstanding this, good health and a feeling of youth—just the same feeling I had forty years ago. I suppose there will be many who will be surprised to see in these pages how old I am; I am unspeakably surprised at it myself. I have to be perpetually reminding myself of my years, that I am so much nearer the close than the outset of life. I feel so young still, that I can hardly help making plans for quite the far-distant future, schemes of work and of travel, and I hope sometimes of usefulness, which of course can never be realised. I have very good spirits, and I feel that I should be inexcusable if I were not happy when I remember the contrast of my present life to my oppressed boyhood, or to the terrible trial of the time when every thought was occupied by such tangled perplexities as those of the Roman Catholic conspiracy.
My next greatest blessing is my home, so infinitely, so exquisitely suited to my needs, and indeed to all my wishes. As I write this, and look from my window across the tiny terrace with its brilliant flowers to the oakwoods, golden in the autumn sunset, and the blue sea beyond, with the craggy mass of Hastings Castle rising up against it, I feel that there are few places more lovely than Holmhurst. Then the walks in the grounds offer a constant variety of wood and rock, flowers and water, and the distant view changes constantly, and composes into a hundred pictures. And in the little circle of this pleasant home love assuredly reigns supreme. I look upon my servants as my best and truest friends; their rooms, in their way, are as pretty and comfortable as my own, and I believe that they have a real pleasure in serving me. We unite together in looking after our less fortunate friends, who come in batches, for a month each set, to the little Hospice in the grounds. I could not ask my servants to do this, but they are delighted to help me thus, as in everything. When one of our little household community, as has happened four times now, passes, in an honoured and cherished old age, from amongst us, we all mourn together, watch by the deathbed, and follow the flower-laden coffin to the grave.
My local affections are centred in Holmhurst now. Rome, which I was formerly even fonder of, is so utterly changed, it has lost its enchaining power, and, with the places, the familiar faces there have all passed away. I go there every third year, but not for pleasure, only because it is necessary for “Walks in Rome,” the one of my books which pays best.
In the summer I generally have guests at Holmhurst, but even then my mornings are passed in writing, and several twilight hours besides. In the evenings there is generally reading aloud, or there are drawings to be looked at, or if “the boys” are with me there are games. Then the early months of spring are often spent abroad, and the later in London, and in the autumn I have the opportunity of far more visits than I like to pay: so that I have quite sufficient people-seeing to prevent getting rusty, or at any rate to remind me of my utter insignificance in every society except my own. However, Reviews are a perfect antidote to all follies of vainglory. I used to be pained by the most abusive ones, though I generally learnt something from them. Latterly, however, I have been more aware of the indescribable incapacity and indolence of the writers, and have not cared at all. I a little wonder, however, why I have scarcely ever had a favourable Review. My work cannot always have been so terribly bad, or it would not have had so wide a circulation—wider, I think, than has attended any other work of the kind.
How I wish one knew something, anything, of the hereafter to which the Old Testament never alludes, and of which the New Testament tells us nothing satisfactory. Can we really sleep, for millions of years perhaps, or can we live in another hemisphere, or can we linger here near people and places we love, incorporeal, invisible? I believe all the truths of revealed religion, but there is so much that is unrevealed. Oh! if the disciples, during their three years’ opportunity, had only asked our Saviour a few more questions—questions so absolutely essential, to which the answers would have been of such vital importance. For oh! how far more important what our state after death is than all our life’s work, than everything we have done or said or written, or what any one has thought of us. I can truly say with Olga de la Ferronays, “Je crois, j’aime, j’espère, je me repens;” but how strangely dim is the clearest sight as to the future. “The awful mysteries of life and nature,” says Whittier, “sometimes almost overwhelm me. What? Where? Whither? These questions sometimes hold me breathless. How little, after all, do we know! And the soul’s anchor of Faith can only grapple fast upon two or three things, and fast and surest of all upon the Fatherhood of God.”600
It is astonishing how little good can be derived from all the religious teaching which is the form and order of the day, from the endless monotony of services, from the wearisome sermons, not one of which remains with me from the thousands upon thousands I have been condemned to listen to, some few of them excellent, but most of them a farrago of stilted nonsense. I suppose that there are some types of mind which are benefited by them: I cannot believe that they were good for me. “Oh, stop, do stop; you have talked enough,” my whole heart has generally cried out when I have listened to a preacher—generally a man whom one would never dream of listening to in ordinary conversation for a quarter of an hour. It is a terrible penalty to pay for one’s religion to have weekly to hear it worried and tangled by these incapable and often arrogant beings. What does really remain with me, and raise my mind heavenwards with every thought of it, is the gentle teaching of my sweet mother in my childhood, and the practical lesson of her long life of love to God and man; the austere, unswerving uprightness and justice which was the mainspring of life’s action to the dear old nurse who was spared for forty-eight years to be the blessing of our home, ever one of those who, as Emerson says, “make the earth wholesome;” the remembrance of Hugh Pearson, Lady Waterford, and many other holy ones entered into the Perfect Life, and the certainty whence their peace in life and their calm in death was derived. Whittier again echoes my own thoughts when he says, “I regard Christianity as a life rather than a creed; and in judging my fellow-men, I can use no other standard than that which our Lord and Master has given us, ‘By their fruits ye shall know them.’ The only orthodoxy that I am especially interested in is that of life and practice.”
I know my own great imperfection and unworthiness, and when I turn from myself to others, I cannot judge them. One cannot know all the secret guiding wires of action in them. I think perhaps the secret of any influence I have with boys is, that though I am willing to tell them what I think best as to the future, I never condemn their past; I am not called upon to do so. Southey’s lines come back to me:—
“Oh, what are we,
Frail creatures that we are, that we should sit
In judgment man on man! And what were we
If the All-Merciful should mete to us
With the same rigorous measure wherewithal
Sinner to sinner metes!”601
When I look at the dates of births and deaths in our family in the Family Bible, I see that I have already exceeded the age which has been usually allotted to the Hares. Can it be that, while I still feel so young, the evening of life is closing in. Perhaps it may not be so, perhaps long years may still be before me. I hope so; but the lesson should be the same, for “man can do no better than live in eternity’s sunrise.”602
“La figure de ce monde passe. Sans la possession de l’éternité, sans la vue religieuse de la vie, ces journées fugitives ne sont qu’un sujet d’effroi, le bonheur doit être une prière et le malheur aussi. Pense, aime, agis et souffris en Dieu; c’est la grande science.”603
“Seek out with earnest search the things above;
Thence to God’s presence rise on wings of love.
By Truth the veils of earth and sense are riven,
And Glory is the only veil of Heaven.
Seek’st thou by earthly roads to find thy way?
Surprise will seize thy rein and bid thee stay;
Only man’s Guardian has cross’d o’er that sea,
And those whom He has bidden—‘Follow me.’
He who has journeyed on without this Friend,
Worn out, has failed to reach his journey’s end.
Oh, Sàdi, think not man has ever gone
Along the path of Holiness alone,
But only he who treads behind the Chosen One.”604
“Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd,
Of that same time when no more Change shall be,
But stedfast rest of all things, firmely stayd
Upon the pillours of Eternity,
That is contrayr to Mutabilitie;
For all that moveth doth in Change delight;
But thence-forth all shall rest eternally
With Him that is the God of Sabaoth hight:
O! that great Sabaoth God, grant me that
Sabaoth’s sight.”605
Notes
1 J. Greenleaf Whittier, “Letters.”
2 I had to pay a duty of 10 per cent, even on all my own money and savings, as it had been unfortunately invested in her name.
3 Archibald, eldest son of John Archibald Colquhoun of Killermont, N.B., and Chartwell, near Westerham, in Kent.
4 Archie Colquhoun died at Nice in the following spring.
5 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
6 These rooms have been entirely altered since Lady Waterford’s death.
7 Mary Amelia, widow of the first Marquis.
8 Daughter of the 5th Earl of Balcarres.
9 James Edward, 2nd Earl.
10 Afterwards Dean of Wells.
11 The picture was exhibited in the spring of 1845, and was sent straight to Hurstmonceaux from the Exhibition.
12 Our cousins Sir Alexander and Lady Taylor. See vol. iii.
13 The Rev. Henry Liddell, brother of my great-uncle Ravensworth, and whose wife, Charlotte Lyon, was niece of my great-grandmother, Lady Anne Simpson.
14 Don Juan died in 1880, leaving his last great work, the restoration of Leon Cathedral, unfinished.
15 This was my first meeting with Everard Primrose, afterwards for many years one of my most intimate friends. He had a cold manner, which was repellant to those who did not know him well, and in conversation he was tantalising, for nothing came out of him at all comparable to what one knew was within. But no young man’s life was more noble, stainless, and full of highest hopes and purposes. He died—to my lasting sorrow—of fever during the African campaign of 1885. His mother printed a memoir afterwards, which was a beautiful and simple portrait of his life—a very model of biographical truth.
16 It has since been entirely destroyed.
18 W. S. Landor.
19 Dr. Chalmers.
20 Wordsworth.
21 For these old friends of my mother, vide vols. i. and iii.
22 This dear old lady (widow of a first cousin of my father’s) lived in uncomplaining poverty till 1891, and was a great pleasure to me. I was glad to be able to contribute to the support of her small establishment at Norbiton.
23 Since this was written the pictures have all been dispersed.
24 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
25 Mrs. T. Erskine’s novel.
26 George Macdonald.
27 Lady Margaret Beaumont, whom I afterwards knew very intimately, and learnt to regard with ever-increasing esteem and affection, died, to my great sorrow, March 31, 1888.
28 Afterwards Lieutenant-General Henry Hope Crealock. He died May 1891.
29 The Mote has since been sold and its contents dispersed.
30 Mr. Hailstone of Walton Hall died 1890, his wife some years earlier. He bequeathed his topographical collections to the Chapter at York, where they are preserved as the “Hailstone Yorkshire Library.”
31 This church, the most interesting memorial of the Brontë life at Haworth, was wantonly destroyed in 1880-81.
32 Lady Salisbury’s description.
33 Told me by Lord Houghton.
34 Note added 1890.—Authorities now decide that this picture does not represent Mary at all, and it is certainly not, as formerly stated, by Zucchero, for Zucchero, who was never in England till the Queen was in captivity, never painted her.
35 Afterwards Lady Sherbrooke.
36 This was so for a long time. Then in about ten years several more editions were called for in rapid succession. One can never anticipate how it will be with books.
37 1890.—This was so for many years: then the sale of “Days near Rome” suddenly and unaccountably stopped.
39 Miss Margaret Foley died Dec. 1877.
40 Afterwards Lady Compton.
43 Perhaps the interest of these details is of the past, but I insert them because the conduct of the Sardinian Government is being rapidly forgotten, and I was at great pains in obtaining accurate statistics and verifying the facts mentioned.
45 Afterwards Duchess of Marino.
46 Mother of the Duchess S. Arpino.
47 Shortly before this my publishers had given me a magnificently bound copy of “Walks in Rome,” with the desire that I would present it to Princess Margherita. I demurred to doing this, because, owing to the strictures which the book contains on the “Sardinian Government,” I thought it might be considered little less than an impertinence; but I told the Duchess S. Arpino, who was in waiting at the time, and she repeated it. The amiable Princess said, “I am sorry Mr. Hare does not appreciate us, but I should like my present all the same,” and the book was sent to her.
50 This quaint journey is described in the introductory chapter of “Days near Rome.”
58 Miss Kate Malcolm, the last of her family, died, universally beloved, in May 1891.
61 Samuel Wilberforce.
62 Rev. Hugh Pearson, Rector of Sonning.
63 The house of William Wickham, who married my cousin Sophia Lefevre.
64 In 1884 this fine old property of the Needhams was sold to A. P. Heywood Lonsdale, Esq. (now Heywood), who is also owner of the neighbouring estate of Cloverly.
65 This old friend of my childhood died Dec. 1890, in her 99th year.
66 “Andrew, she has a face looks like a story,
The story of the heavens looks very like her.”
Beaumont and Fletcher, The Elder Brother.
67 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
68 Afterwards Lady Harcourt.
69 This is much like the epitaph which Ruskin has placed on the grave of his father.
70 A rich farmer, the landlord of our Lime farm at Hurstmonceaux.
71 Mrs. Harford of Blaise Castle, third daughter of Baron de Bunsen.
75 Beatrice, afterwards the first wife of Charles Stuart Wortley.
85 From “Days near Rome.”
86 Daughter of Lord Howard de Walden, afterwards Duchess of Sermoneta.
87 From “Days near Rome.”
88 This excellent old Abbot was afterwards cruelly murdered at Rome.
92 All the women have fainted.
93 Sermon on Ezekiel.
95 From “North-Eastern France.”
96 Afterwards known as “Sunday Hill.”
97 Fanny Blackett, Vicomtesse du Quaire, who died, universally beloved and regretted, in the spring of 1895.
98 Feb. 8, 1814.
99 Hon. E. Primrose, second son of the Duchess of Cleveland by her first marriage with Lord Dalmeny.
100 Cambry.
101 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
102 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
103 Eighth daughter of the 7th Earl of Wemyss. She died, deeply mourned and beloved, in 1891.
104 Author of “Rab and his Friends.”
105 Daughter of the 8th Earl of Cavan, afterwards Baroness von Essen.
106 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
107 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
108 John, second Duke of Argyll, immortalised by Pope.
109 Author of “Music and Morals,” &c.
113 This was my first sight of the contentious and arbitrary essayist Abraham Hayward, whom I often saw afterwards. He was always interesting to meet, if only on account of his perverse acerbity. Constantly invited by a world which feared him, he was always determined to be listened to, and generally said something worth hearing.
116 Lady Victoria Liddell married Captain Edward Fisher, now Rowe.
117 John FitzPatrick, Baron Castletown of Upper Ossory.
119 Emily, wife of the 5th Earl Stanhope, died Dec. 31, 1873.
120 Evelyn Henrietta, daughter of R. Pennefather, Esq., afterwards 6th Countess Stanhope.
121 Daughter of Amos Meredith, Esq. She married, secondly, a son of the 4th Duke of Argyll.
122 Lady Harriet Pelham, daughter of the 3rd Earl of Chichester, wife of the 6th Earl of Darnley.
123 Tasso.
124 My real mother’s youngest sister Jane (see vol. i.). She married Edward, only son of the famous Lord Edward FitzGerald and of the beautiful Pamela. She lived till November 1891.
125 The family circle was broken up by the death of Mr. Carew in 1888, a few months after that of his eldest daughter.
126 I learnt to value Dean Church very much afterwards. The story of his beautiful and noble life is told in a wonderfully interesting “Memoir.”
127 William, afterwards 4th Earl of St. Germans, died Oct. 7, 1877.
128 Edward Granville, 3rd Earl of St. Germans, died 1877.
129 George, second son of the 2nd Earl of Mount Edgcumbe, married Fanny Lucy, eldest daughter of Sir John Shelley.
130 Sophia, daughter of the 2nd Earl of Buckinghamshire.
131 Hugh, 3rd Earl Fortescue.
132 The Queen of the Gipsies died in July 1883, at the age of eighty-six.
133 Her mother, Lady Stuart de Rothesay, was daughter of the 3rd Earl of Hardwicke.
134 Charles, 3rd Earl of Somers.
135 George Guy Greville, 4th Earl of Warwick, died Dec. 2, 1893.
136 I afterwards heard the same story, almost in the same words, from Lord Warwick himself.
137 from “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
138 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
139 Bk. vi. 73, 74.
140 Anne, wife of the 4th Earl of Warwick, daughter of Francis, 8th Earl of Wemyss and March.
141 My mother’s first cousin, Georgiana Liddell, had married Lord Bloomfield, formerly ambassador at Berlin and Vienna.
142 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
143 I have heard Professor Owen tell this story himself.
144 Louisa, fourth daughter of 2nd Earl of Lucan.
145 John Patrick, 3rd Marquis of Bute.
146 Gwendoline Mary-Anne, eldest daughter of Lord Howard of Glossop.
147 Prior.
148 Sir Hedworth and Lady Elizabeth Williamson. The parents of both were first cousins of my mother.
149 My mother’s first cousin, Henry Liddell, 1st Earl of Ravensworth.
150 John Axel Fersen, making the tour of France at nineteen, was presented to the Dauphine, herself nineteen, in 1774. Throughout his friendship with her, the perfect reserve of a great gentleman and great lady was never broken.
151 In 1879 I told this story to the Crown Prince of Sweden and Norway, who took the trouble to verify facts and dates as to the Löwenjelms, &c., and found everything coincide.
152 Mrs., then Lady Pease, died, universally beloved and regretted, in 1892.
153 The 6th Earl of Fitzwilliam.
154 Lady Frances Douglas, daughter of the 18th Earl of Morton.
155 Eldest daughter and youngest son of Viscount Halifax.
156 Edward Carr Glyn, afterwards Vicar of Kensington, son of the 1st Baron Wolverton.
157 Mother of the 9th Duke of Bedford, a most charming and hospitable person. She died August 1874.
158 Lord Moira was created Marquis of Hastings 1816, and died at Malta, November 26, 1826.
159 “In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; then He openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction.”—Elihu in Job.
160 Charles, 2nd Earl Grey.
161 I have since heard this story as told by a Captain Campbell, and as having happened in Ireland near the Curragh. A similar story is told of two officers invited to the house of a Mr. T. near Dorchester. The appearance of the hostess at dinner was excused on plea of illness, and the younger guest, staring at the place where she would have sat, implored his elder friend to get him away from this devil-haunted place. An excuse of early parade was made, and as they were returning over the hills, the young man described the figure of “a lady with dripping hair wringing her hands.” Soon afterwards her body was found in the moat of the house. It was Mrs. T.
162 My old schoolfellow, George, Equerry to the Prince of Wales, only son of the Right Hon. Sir George Grey.
163 Anthony Lionel Ashley, died Jan. 14, 1836.
164 I afterwards heard this story confirmed in every particular by Lord Waterford’s widow.
166 Miss Wright
167 Whose real name is Cincinnatus.
177 He died March 1888.
178 Dante Gabriel Rossetti.
179 Professor Forster has since assured me that this was impossible, for that hair will only continue to grow for a few hours after death.
180 Daughter of the famous English tenor, John Braham.
183 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
184 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
185 Story told me by Sir J. Shaw Lefevre.
186 Afterwards Sir Charles Newton. He died Nov. 28, 1894.
187 I need scarcely say that, as soon as possible thereafter, I eliminated all reference to Mr. Freeman, and all quotations from his works, from my books.
190 Tom Taylor, editor of Punch, died 1880.
191 Née Sabine Thellusson.
192 Chancellor of the Exchequer.
200 William Reginald Courtenay, 12th Earl of Devon.
201 Sir Samuel Baker died Dec. 1893.
202 This picture was sold to the National Gallery in 1880 for £9000, and is probably the cheapest purchase the Gallery ever made.
203 Isabella, second daughter of Lord Henry Howard.
204 Mr. Abraham Hayward, the well-known critic and essayist, who had been articled in early life to an obscure country attorney, always seemed to consider it the summum-bonum of life to dwell amongst the aristocracy as a man of letters: and in this he succeeded admirably, and was always witty and well-informed, usually satirical, and often very coarse.
205 Fourth son of the 4th Earl of Clarendon.
206 Eldest sister of Prince Christian.
208 Many years afterwards I saw her again: her name was Mrs. Macnabb.
209 Lord Russell died May 28, 1878.
210 Lady Gladys afterwards married the 4th Earl of Lonsdale.
211 My mother’s first cousin, Susan, sixth daughter of the 1st Lord Ravensworth.
212 Eliot Yorke died Dec. 21, 1878—a bitter family sorrow.
214 Anne-Florence, Baroness Lucas, Dowager Countess Cowper, elder daughter and co-heir of Thomas Philip, Earl De Grey. She died in 1880.
215 P.S.—The unpublished letters of Lady Mary Cooke show that this local tradition is incorrect. Lord Tavistock’s accident occurred far away, and he lingered afterwards for three weeks; but it is true that the family never lived at Houghton after his death.
216 Lord Hinton afterwards used to play a barrel-organ in the streets of London, with an inscription over it in large letters, “I am the only Viscount Hinton.” He would play it for hours opposite the windows of Lord Powlett in Berkeley Square.
217 Mr. E. A. Freeman—whose lengthy and disproportionate writings were never wholly without interest—died March 1892.
218 Blanche, Countess of Sandwich, died March 1894.
219 Letters of Alexis de Tocqueville to Mrs. Grote.
220 Sir John Acton was commander-in-chief of the land and sea forces of Naples, and was for several years Neapolitan Prime Minister. His wife was the daughter of his brother, General Acton, and he had by her two sons (the younger of whom became Cardinal), and a daughter, afterwards Lady Throckmorton.
221 At Sudeley Castle, where “the Mother of the English Reformation” is buried, I wrote for Mrs. Dent:—
“Here, within the chapel’s shade,
Reverent hands have gently laid,
From the suffering of her life,
From its storminess and strife,
All that rests of one who shone
For a time on England’s throne,
Ever gentle, ever kind,
Seeking human souls to bind
In a Christian’s fetters fast,
Heavenward leading at the last:
And their watch two angels keep
Over Katherine’s gentle sleep.
..........
Oh! amid this world of ours,
With its sunshine and its flowers,
Glad with light and blest with love,
Let us still so live above
All earth’s jealousies and snares,
All its fretfulness and cares,
Ever faithful, ever true,
With the noblest end in view,
Seeking human souls to raise
By the simplest, purest ways;
Then their ward will angels keep
When we too are hush’d to sleep.”
222 Emma, daughter of John Brocklehurst, Esq., of Hurdsfield, the authoress of an admirable work on the “Annals of Winchcombe and Sudeley.”
223 The great feature in views from Stoke Rectory.
224 The name is thus spelt in the epitaph on the tomb of Richard Pendrill at St. Giles in the Fields.
225 Henry Strutt, who succeeded his father as 2nd Lord Belper in 1880, married Lady Margaret, sixth daughter of the 2nd Earl of Leicester.
226 Frederick Arthur, second son of the 14th Earl of Derby, married Constance, eldest daughter of the 4th Earl of Clarendon.
227 He succeeded his grandfather as 5th Viscount Gage in 1877.
228 Frederick, third son of the 6th Earl of Tankerville. See vol. ii.
229 Eldest son of the Hon. Colonel Augustus Liddell, married Christina Catherine, daughter of C. E. Fraser Tytler, Esq., of Sanquhar, the authoress of “Mistress Judith,” “Jonathan,” &c. See vol. iii.
230 Helen, daughter of Sir John Warrender, wife of the 11th Earl of Haddington.
231 Katherine, third daughter of the 2nd Earl of Eldon.
232 Coleridge.
233 Lady Harriet Elliot, sixth daughter of the 1st Earl of Ravensworth.
234 E. Waller.
235 Aldena (Kingscote), wife of Sir Archibald Hope.
236 General Philip Stanhope, fifth son of Walter Spencer Stanhope of Cannon Hall, celebrated for his kindly nature and pleasant conversation. Died 1879.
237 Charles Nevison, Viscount Andover, son of the 15th Earl of Suffolk, died January 11, 1800.
238 Lord Eslington, afterwards 2nd Earl of Ravensworth.
239 See my visit in 1866.
240 Afterwards Mrs. C. Warren.
241 Lady Charlotte Loftus, eldest daughter of John, 2nd Marquis of Ely.
242 Eldest daughter of William Pitt, Earl Amherst.
243 Elizabeth, second daughter of Sir Christopher Sykes, died 1853.
244 Eldest sister of the 1st Earl of Lathom.
245 Egerton Warburton, Esq.
246 A family home. In 1807 Thomas Tatton of Wythenshawe married my mother’s first cousin, Emma, daughter of the Hon. John Grey.
247 Harriet Susan, eldest daughter of Robert Townley Parker of Cuerden Hall.
248 Fourth daughter of the 6th Earl of Albemarle.
249 Second son of the 3rd Lord Lyttelton and Lady Sarah Spencer.
250 Lady Agneta Montagu was one of the daughters of Susan, Countess of Hardwicke, my mother’s first cousin.
251 Pascal.
252 Sotherton Peckham Branthwayt Micklethwait.
253 Third daughter of the 2nd Earl of Arran by his third wife, Elizabeth Underwood.
254 Dr. William Thompson, Archbishop of York, married Miss Zoë Skene, a beautiful Greek.
255 Adelaide Horatia Seymour, Countess Spencer, who died October 1877.
256 The well-known architect.
258 Mr. J. Cordy Jeaffreson (“Book of Recollections”) gives a most attractive account of this lady, which may be summed up in his dictum “It is impossible for a daughter of Eve to be a better woman than Geraldine Jewsbury.”
259 Elizabeth Jane, daughter of the first Lord Athlumney.
261 Helen Matilda, daughter of Rev. Henry Chaplin, afterwards 5th Countess of Radnor.
262 Mr. Froude died Oct. 1894.
263 Mrs. Davidson of Ridley Hall. See vols. ii. and iii.
265 I have frequently seen Mrs. L.’s pictures in the Academy. I had often been told of the strange likeness between Napoleon III. and myself.
266 Author of “Unspoken Sermons,” “David Elginbrod,” &c.
267 Died June 20, 1889.
268 The house of Joseph Pease, M.P., afterwards Sir Joseph Pease.
269 Afterwards Lord Rowton.
270 From “The Story of Two Noble Lives.”
271 All the best pictures at Burghley have since been sold at Christie’s.
272 The same amusement was in vogue during the parties of the second Empire at Compiègne, where the worst of the many bad organ-grinders was the Emperor himself.
273 Francis-Charles, 9th Duke, a great archaeologist.
274 Hungerford Crewe, Lord Crewe, died Jan. 1894.
275 The Roman sculptress, Gibson’s favourite pupil. See vol. iii.
276 Widow of John Singleton Copley, three times Lord Chancellor.
277 Told me by Mrs. Henry Forester.
278 Afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury.
279 See Macpherson’s “Memorials of Mrs. Jameson.”
280 Fräulein von Weling afterwards translated my “Life and Letters of Baroness Bunsen” into German, and it has thus had a wide circulation in Germany.
281 Afterwards “Carmen Sylva,” the poet-queen of Roumania.
282 Widow of my cousin Marcus, lost in the Eurydice.
283 The epitaph of Prince Otto, by his mother, is—
“Made perfect through Suffering and patient in Hope,
Of a fearless Spirit and strong in Faith,
His mind turned towards heavenly things,
He searched for truth and a knowledge of God.
What he humbly sought in Life,
He, being set free, has now found in Light.”
284 Née Isabel Waddington, sister of the ambassador from France to England.
285 Younger son of my real mother’s youngest brother Wentworth.
286 My real mother’s younger brother, Wentworth Paul, had married Countess Marie Marcia von Benningsen, lady-in-waiting to the Queen of Hanover.
287 Afterwards ambassador in England.
288 From “Sketches in Holland and Scandinavia.”
289 Longfellow.
290 Carlyle.
291 Their grandmother was a Mademoiselle Clary, sister of Queen Desirée of Sweden.
292 From “Days near Rome,” vol. ii.
293 From “Days near Rome,” vol. ii.
296 See vol. iii.
297 Wife of a north-country baronet.
298 Mary Howitt, aged 89, fulfilled her heart’s desire by also dying at Rome, Jan. 30, 1888, and, though a Catholic, was permitted to rest by her husband’s side in the Protestant cemetery. She never recovered the fatigue of a visit to the Pope. It was all made as easy as possible for her, on account of her great age, and the Duke of Norfolk was allowed to bring her in separately. “Adieu! we shall meet again in heaven,” said Leo XIII., on taking leave of her: a fortnight after she was dead.
299 I have not been able to do this, as there is a prohibition in England against wearing foreign orders, dating from Elizabeth, who said, “My dogs shall wear nothing but my own collars.”
300 I little thought at the time that Frank Crawford would turn out a distinguished and popular novelist: it was at Bombay that he met the original of “Mr. Isaacs.”
301 The Misses Monk, daughters of the Bishop of Gloucester and Bristol.
302 Miss Clarke.
303 From “South-Eastern France.”
304 Of very humble origin himself, to court great personages had been the ruling passion of his life, and it had been a subject of extravagant pride to him that he had occasionally entertained this good-natured Princess at dinner at Pau.
306 I often saw Mademoiselle Bernhardt act afterwards, and was far less impressed by her, feeling the truth of the expression “Une tragédienne du Boulevard.”
307 With whom afterwards I became great friends.
308 The story of Count Piper is curious and highly honourable to him. He discovered that the late King Carl XV. was going to make a most unworthy and disgraceful marriage, and he wrote to him most strongly upon the subject. The king never forgave him, and made it impossible for him to stay in Sweden, but the cause of his disgrace was unknown, till the present king, Oscar, found the letter among his brother’s papers after his death. Count Piper was at once recalled, and given first-rate diplomatic posts.
311 Daughter of John Braham, the singer. She married (1) John James Waldegrave, Esq.; (2) George-Edward, 7th Earl Waldegrave; (3) George Granville Harcourt, Esq., of Nuneham; (4) Chichester Fortescue, Lord Carlingford. When she was a child a gipsy foretold that she would marry first to please her parents, secondly for rank, thirdly for wealth, and fourthly to please herself.
312 Eldest son of the Earl of Tankerville. See vol. iii.
313 Lady Waterford, Lady Jane Ellice, and Lady Marian Alford.
314 See vol. i.
315 Joaquin Miller.
316 See vol. i.
317 Sir John Shaw Lefevre died at Margate.
318 My cousin, Lady Elizabeth Adeane, née Yorke, had married Michael Biddulph, Esq., of Ledbury.
319 See vol. iii.
320 Constance-Gertrude, youngest daughter of the 2nd Duke of Sutherland.
321 Maria, youngest daughter of Hon. Charles Tollemache, second wife (1833) of Charles Bruce, 2nd Earl of Ailesbury.
322 Ada Maria Katherine, daughter of Hon. Frederick Tollemache, married (1868) Charles Hanbury Tracy, Baron Sudeley.
323 Ham House has been greatly, perhaps too much restored since this, by the 8th Earl of Dysart.
324 Feb. 17, 1671-2.
325 Afterwards Dean of Winchester.
326 Two thousand pounds and its interests for many years have (1900) never been repaid.
327 Archbishop Trench.
338 This story was told to me by Susan, Lady Sherborne, who heard it from Lord Clanwilliam.
343 Eleanor Paul, who had lived with my sister, and who afterwards lived with her brother, George Paul.
344 Frank Miles died July 1891.
345 Marquis de Sade.
346 Afterwards Lady Rumbold.
347 Rev. Joseph Wolff, missionary to Palestine, died 1862.
348 Doña Emilia de Guyangos. See vol. iv.
349 Mrs. Thellusson died January 23, 1881, leaving a most loving memory behind. Swinburne wrote a pretty poem on her death.
350 Afterwards married to Robert-George, Lord Windsor.
351 See vol. ii.
352 Dr. Grey died, aged 77, January 1888.
353 Isabella Henrietta Poyntz, 8th Countess of Cork.
354 “No wonder, Mary, that thy story
Touches all hearts—for there we see
The soul’s corruption, and its glory,
Its death and life combin’d in thee.
........
No wonder, Mary, that thy face,
In all its touching light of tears,
Should meet us in each holy place,
When man before his God appears,
Hopeless—were he not taught to see
All hope in Him who pardoned thee.”
355 Yet, M. Vivier told Madame du Quaire that, when he first went to see Mrs. Grote, he found her sitting high aloft in a tree, dressed in a coachman’s brown greatcoat with capes, playing on the violoncello.
356 Mr. Grote was ever imperturbably placid. When Jenny Lind was asked what she thought of Mr. Grote, she said he was “like a fine old bust in a corner which one longed to dust.” Mrs. Grote dusted him.
357 This was my last sight of Lady Ruthven, who died April 5, 1885, aged 96.
358 “Pensées Philosophiques,” 1747.
359 Since republished in “Biographical Sketches.”
360 The Stanleys’ dear old nurse.
361 From “Biographical Sketches.”
362 Lord Romilly perished in his burning house in Egerton Gardens, London, in May 1891, having never recovered the death of his most sweet wife several years before.
363 Hon. W. Owen Stanley, brother of the 2nd Lord Stanley of Alderley, and of my aunt Mrs. Marcus Hare.
364 Mary Louisa, daughter of Henry, 5th Duke of Grafton.
365 Edward Gordon Douglas Pennant, Baron Penrhyn, who had succeeded to Penrhyn Castle in right of his first wife, Miss Dawkins Pennant.
366 Her grandmother, Lady Ravensworth, was my grandmother’s only sister.
370 Olympia, Countess von Usedom, eldest daughter of Sir John Malcolm. See vols. i. and iii.
371 This Patriarch died of the influenza in 1892.
373 Dr. Walter Smith on Robertson of Irvine.
374 Philip-Henry, 4th Earl Stanhope, died 1855.
375 Dr. Buckland afterwards told Lady Lyndhurst that there was one thing even worse than a mole, and that was a blue-bottle fly.
378 From “Holland.”
379 The results of this tour appeared in the first part of my little volume, “Sketches in Holland and Scandinavia.”
380 Second daughter of the 1st Duke of Sutherland, born 1797; she wrote to me several times after this, and showed me great kindness, but we never met again. She died November 11, 1891.
381 Lowell.
382 Gray’s “Enigmas of Life.”
383 John Gidman, her most unworthy husband, the cloud and scourge and sorrow of her life. He had (fortunately for me) kept away during her illness, and did not wish to have anything to do with her funeral, or even to attend it. Immediately after, he removed all her possessions to Cheshire, and soon married again, dying six years after.
384 Madame de Staël.
385 Princess Elizabeth of Wied; translated by Sir Edwin Arnold.
386 Thomasine Jocelyn, widow of the 4th Earl of Donoughmore.
394 I published some articles on Mrs. Duncan Stewart and her remarkable life in Good Words for 1892. They have been republished in “Biographical Sketches.”
395 From “North-Eastern France.”
396 From “North-Eastern France.”
397 From “North-Eastern France.”
398 The third boy, Henry Wood, died in London, June 6, 1886. The second son, Francis, died at Eton, March 17, 1889. The beloved eldest son, Charlie, died at Hickledon, September 1890.
399 My second-cousin, Lady Elizabeth Williamson, daughter of the 1st Earl of Ravensworth.
400 Lady Elizabeth Lindsay, widow of Philip, 3rd Earl of Hardwicke[.] Her eldest daughter, Lady Mexborough, was the mother of Lady Sarah Savile, who married Hon. Sir James Lindsay.
401 Frances-Anne, daughter and heiress of Sir Henry Vane Tempest, who (1819) became the second wife of the 3rd Marquis of Londonderry.
403 From “South-Western France.”
404 From “South-Western France.”
405 From “South-Western France.”
406 From “South-Western France.”
407 From “South-Western France.”
408 From “South-Western France.”
409 From “South-Western France.”
410 William Schomberg, 8th Marquis of Lothian, died 1870, aged 38.
412 Very soon after I was at Ludlow, gentle Lady Mary Clive lost all her powers by a paralytic seizure, and she died in the summer of 1889
413 William Reginald Courtenay, 12th Earl of Devon.
414 Clough.
415 W. H. Smith, 1844.
416 Dante, Purg. III.
417 “Le Lys dans la Vallée.”
418 Ben Jonson.
419 Monckton Milnes.
421 This was my last visit to the kind and excellent Lotteringo della Stufa, who died at Castagnolo, Feb. 26, 1889, after a long and painful illness.
427 From “South-Eastern France.”
428 From “North-Eastern France.”
429 Lady Gage died a few months after, and left Hengrave to Lord Kenmare, who sold it.
430 Ockwells was afterwards bought by my friend Stephen Leech, who restored it thoroughly and then sold it again.
431 Frances Mary, daughter of Christopher Blackett of Wylam, widow of the Vicomte du Quaire.
432 Emma, sister of Sir Francis Seymour.
433 Margaret, daughter of T. Steuart Gladstone, Esq., of Capenoch.
434 Anne, daughter of the Earl of Wemyss and March, wife of the 4th Earl of Warwick.
435 Edward Heneage Dering was the author of several books. His last, a novel—“The Ban of Maplethorpe”—was only completed the day before his sudden death in November 1892. His grandmother, Lady Maria Harrington Price, and my grandmother. Lady Paul, were first cousins.
436 From “South-Eastern France.”
437 From “South-Eastern France.”
438 From “South-Eastern France.”
439 From “South-Eastern France.”
440 From “South-Eastern France.”
441 From “South-Eastern France.”
442 From “South-Eastern France.”
443 From “South-Eastern France.”
444 From “South-Eastern France.”
445 From “South-Eastern France.”
446 From “South-Eastern France.”
447 From “South-Eastern France.”
449 He had been sub-editor of the Times.
451 Prince Abu’n Nasr Mir Hissanum, Sultanah of Persia; Devawongse Varspraker of Siam; and Komatsu of Japan.
452 Princess “Liliuokalani.” Queen Liliuokalani was deposed January 1893, after a reign of only two years.
453 Bertram, 4th Earl of Ashburnham.
454 Fourth daughter of the 3rd Marquis of Exeter, afterwards Lady Barnard.
455 Lady Alma Graham, youngest daughter of the 4th Duke of Montrose.
456 I never saw Mrs. Procter again; she died March 5, 1888. She liked to see people to the last. Every Sunday and Tuesday she admitted all who came to her as long as she could; then she saw a portion: up to the last few weeks she saw one or two. As Landor says, “She warmed both hands before the fire of life, and when it sank she was ready to depart.”
One day a young man remonstrated with Mrs. Procter for not going to see an exhibition of Sir Joshuas which was open at that time. “I have seen them all,” she said. “Why, Mrs. Procter, there has never been such an exhibition before.”—“I beg your pardon; there has been.”—“Why, when?”—“In 1808, and—where were you then?”
Mrs. Procter used to tell how she had been at the jubilee of George III., and would add that if she could see the jubilee of Queen Victoria she would say her “Nunc Dimittis;” and she did see it, and the Queen expressed a wish that Mrs. Procter, who was invited to her garden-party, should be especially presented to her.
Mrs. Procter—Anne Benson Procter—was born Sept. 11, 1799, being the daughter of Mr. Skepper, a small Yorkshire squire. Her mother, a Benson, who was aunt of the Archbishop of Canterbury of that name, married, as her second husband, Basil Montagu, Q.C. In 1823, Miss Skepper married Bryan Waller Procter, known as Barry Cornwall, described by Patmore as a “simple, sincere, shy, and delicate soul,” well known to his contemporaries by his songs set to music by popular composers. He died in 1874.
457 Née Janet Duff Gordon.
458 Second daughter of the 1st Earl of Kilmorey, aged 95.
459 Henry Cowper, than whom no one was a more universal favourite, or more deservedly so, died a few months after this.
460 Afterwards Lady Swansea.
461 Third son of the 4th Earl of Aberdeen, married Ellen, 2nd daughter of the 19th Earl of Morton.
462 Lady Gertrude Talbot, daughter of the 18th Earl of Shrewsbury.
463 Esquire being written as well as Reverend, is supposed to have been intended to indicate the son of a baronet.
464 In 1890 Mr. Pigott died, and the new Rector destroyed the character of Bemerton by adding largely to the rectory in red brick.
465 The Earl of Caledon’s place in Hertfordshire.
466 The 16th Earl, father of the Princesses Doria and Borghese.
467 Browning.
468 From “North-Western France.”
469 Sir John Saville’s.
470 Harry George Powlett, 4th Duke of Cleveland, who died August 21, 1891.
471 Afterwards Duchess of Portland.
472 Louisa, daughter of Henry Drummond, Esq., died 1890.
473 Algernon-George, 6th Duke of Northumberland.
474 How well I remember, when somebody remonstrated with Lady Marian for “burning the candle at both ends,” the quickness with which she answered—“Why, I thought that was the very way to make two ends meet.”
475 Her father, Benjamin Bathurst (third son of Henry Bathurst, Bishop of Norwich), travelling as envoy from the British Government to the Emperor Francis, was about to enter his carriage at the door of the Swan Inn at Perleberg, between Berlin and Hamburg, when he disappeared and was never heard of again. Her brother was killed by a fall from his horse in a race at Rome. Her sister, Emmeline, who married (1830) Lord Castle Stuart, and afterwards (1867) Signor Pistocchi, I have often seen at Rome.
476 From “South-Eastern France.”
477 From “South-Western France.”
478 From “South-Eastern France.”
479 From “South-Western France.”
480 Mr. Challoner Chute, of the Vyne, died, deeply regretted, May 30, 1892.
481 The picture belongs to Mr. Morison.
482 From “South-Eastern France.”
484 A few months after this happy visit to my dear friend Sir Howard Elphinstone came the terrible news of his sudden death at sea.
485 Georgiana, third daughter of Charles, 4th Duke of Richmond.
486 The four seraphim are recognised by the Moslems as Michael, Raphael, Gabriel, and Israel. Before the birth of the Prophet they were supposed to speak, and to give warning of coming catastrophes. Thus they have been permitted to survive the other ancient mosaics of St. Sophia.
487 Marion Crawford’s novel.
488 Joseph Maier, the eminent wood-sculptor.
489 “Die Früchte der Passionbetrachtung.”
490 “I know no guilt like that of incontinent speech. How long Christ was silent before He spoke, and how little He then said.”—Carlyle, in Reid’s Life of Lord Houghton.
491 A passage in Richard Kurd’s Sermons (vol. ii.), which I had read long ago, would come back to me during this terrible hour. “In this awfully stupendous manner, at which Reason stands aghast, and Faith herself is half-confounded, was the grace of God to man at length manifested.”
492 John Inglesant.
493 Paul Verlaine.
494 The birth of John, Henry, and Thomas Palmer is perhaps the only well-authenticated instance of a fortnight intervening between the eldest and the youngest child produced at a birth. It is described by Fuller. Their mother was Alice, daughter of John Clement. Sir Henry lost his life in the defence of Guisnes, of which he was governor. Sir Thomas was beheaded for the part which he took for Lady Jane Grey.
495 Née Magniac.
496 Austin Dobson, “Angiola in Heaven.”
497 From “Biographical Sketches.”
499 Onions and lettuces. The lower classes in Rome call all the smaller vegetables fruit.
500 “Yes, lady; it is enough for me to think of that shoemaker who made me pay seven francs instead of five, and I cry directly.”
501 A mineral fountain near Rome.
502 William Wetmore Story died—deeply loved by children, friends, indeed by all who came within his genial and invigorating influence—at Vallombrosa, Oct. 7, 1895, aged 77. His excellent wife had passed away before him.
504 Planted by S. Dominic, and supposed to flourish or fail with the fortunes of the Dominican Order.
507 Lady Emily Pierrepont, daughter of Earl Manvers, widow of Frederick Lygon, 6th Earl Beauchamp.
508 Horatio William Walpole, 4th Earl of Orford.
509 I have since heard that this was Louise de Rohan Chabot, whom his father forbade Lord Orford to marry, because she was a Roman Catholic. She was the love of his life, which was wrecked, and he became a Roman Catholic himself—such is Nemesis!
510 This was the man who one day went up to the great, the beloved Bishop Brooks, the most popular man in America since Washington, and said, “And do you really believe all that you say?” “I wanted to knock him down, the little moth-eaten angel,” said the Bishop in recounting it afterwards.
511 At Lincoln he had “a fair tomb of marble,” with the punning legend, “Longa terra mansura ejus, Dominus dedit.” The reference is to the Vulgate—Job xi. 9. At Eton he had an epitaph on brass.
512 I never saw the beloved Lord Arthur Hervey again: he died June 1894.
515 Lord John George Beresford.
516 G. V. Watts, R.A.
517 Henry Fuseli or Fuessli, an Anglo-Swiss.
518 The famous J. M. W. Turner.
519 The Marquises of Sligo are Earls of Altamont.
520 From “The Gurneys of Earlham.”
521 Carlyle.
522 Chateaubriand.
523 From “North-Western France.”
524 From “North-Western France.”
525 From “North-Western France.”
526 From “North-Western France.”
527 From “Biographical Sketches.”
528 Alas! this was actually the case a very few months afterwards. The dear Canon Venables died of influenza on the 5th of March 1895, and his gentle loving wife only survived him one day.
529 She was daughter of an Earl of Thanet.
530 Shakspeare’s “Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
531 “Whose voice seemed faint through long disuse of speech.”
532 Of “Diana Tempest,” &c.
533 In “The High Tide in Lincolnshire.”
534 Philip Henry, 4th Earl.
535 Jerome K. Jerome.
536 Memoires de “Madame.”
537 “John Inglesant.”
538 Henri Frederic Amiel.
539 Louisa May, daughter of Amos Bronson Alcott.
540 In three years the sale amounted to 87,000 copies.
541 Daughter of Rev. Edward Payson, afterwards Mrs. Hopkins.
542 Thomas Hardy, the novelist, resides at Max Gale, near Dorchester, amid the scenery of his Wessex novels and stories.
543 Mrs. Beecher Stowe in “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”
544 The others were Lady Wellesley, Lady Stafford, and Mrs. M’Tavish.
545 Bought out of a cart in Paris, died 1753.
546 The second saying, ‘I have been here three months, and have seen a little;’—the third, ‘I have been here three years, and am only beginning to understand it.’
547 Alfred Tennyson in 1892.
548 George Eliot’s Letters.
549 This very popular and promising son of Lord Carlisle was killed at the battle of Omdurman, September 2, 1898.
550 Wordsworth.
551 Coleridge, ‘Fears in Solitude.’
552 “Arridet placidum radiis crispantibus aequor.”—Rutilius.
553 Lady Winchelsea’s “Reverie.”
554 Eccl. vii. 29.
555 De Musset.
556 Author of “A Lilac Sun-Bonnet,” &c.
557 Author of “A Window in Thrums,” which brought him £4000.
558 Madame de Staël.
559 Afterwards bought by his descendant for £8000.
560 Killed, alas! in the South African War of 1900.
561 Died 1839.
562 The American edition, omitting nothing and doing full justice to the woodcuts, is in two rather thin volumes.
563 Washington Irving’s Letters.
564 Anthony Hope in “Mr. Witt’s Widow.”
565 Née De Bunsen.
566 Said by Wasisewski of Catherine II. of Russia.
567 Florence Montgomery in “Colonel Norton.”
568 “Colonel Norton.”
569 See Vol. i.
570 Elisée Reclus.
571 Carlyle.
572 Rev. Joseph Parker.
573 Burns.
574 John Bright.
575 Purg. v. 13-15.
576 Browning.
577 Of 60 Grosvenor Street.
578 Tennyson.
579 Pierre Loti.
580 Frances, daughter of Pierce Butler of Philadelphia by Fanny Kemble, his wife, married to the Hon. James Wentworth Leigh, Dean of Hereford.
581 Politian.
582 Henry Taylor, “The Eve of the Conquest.”
583 Catherine Stanley—Mrs. C. Vaughan.
584 S. Simon.
585 Trans. by Lowell.
586 “Von dem Fesseln geistiger Berniertheit.”—Goethe.
587 Gabrielle d’Annunzio.
588 Tennyson.
589 Margaret L. Woods.
590 “Nich. Brome slew ye minister of Baddesley church, findynge him in his pier (parlour) chockinge his wife under ye chinne, and to expiate these bloody offences and crimes, he built ye steeple and raysed ye church body 10 foote higher, as is seene at this day in ye churche, and boughte 3 belles for ye same churche. In his epitaph in ye churche, ye building of ye churche and steeple was expressed; he died ye 29 daye of August, ano 1517. I have seen ye king’s pdon for itt, and ye Pope’s pdon, and the penance there enjoined him.”—MS. of Henry Ferrers, quoted by Dugdale. (Nich. Brome really died October 1517.)
591 “Quiet Hours.”
592 Johnson on Levett.
593 Shakspeare, ‘King Lear.’
594 See vol. i. p. 186.
595 Lowell.
596 Whittier.
597 S. T. Coleridge, Letter to Thomas Poole.
598 Old Play.
599 George Eliot.
600 J. Greenleaf Whittier, Letters, 1867.
601 “Roderick.”
602 Blake.
603 Henri Frédéric Amiel.
604 From the Introduction to the Bùstàn of Shaikh Mushlihu-d-dín Sa’di Shírází. Translated by Sir E. Strachey.
605 E. Spenser.