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 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
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SIXTY YEAKS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
c:/t^rLru LAI .^ ncu 
 
SIXTY YEARS IN THE 
 WILDERNESS 
 
 SOME PASSAGES BY THE WAY 
 
 BY 
 
 HENRY W. LUCY 
 
 WITB A PORTRAIT BT 
 
 J. S. SARGENT, E.A. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 E. P. BUTTON & COMPANY 
 
 31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STBEET 
 1909 
 
 
' / 
 
 /)yx-^si^ 
 
 PBXNXBD BT 
 
 WILLIAH CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, 
 
 LONDON AND BECCLBS. 
 
 
TO 
 HIS EXCELLENCY 
 
 WHITELAW EEID 
 
 JOURNALIST AND STATESMAN 
 
 THIS BOOK IS INSCRIBED 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR 
 
 LOHDON, May, 1909 
 
TO THE KEADER 
 
 A CONSIDERABLE number of the chapters composing 
 this volume appeared in an eight months' run 
 through the Cornhill Magazine. They are supple- 
 mented by additional matter equal to one-third 
 of the whole. 
 
 This does not exhaust material accumulated 
 over a long period of time, during which I have 
 been honoured by the personal acquaintance and 
 correspondence of a richly varied circle of men, 
 eminent in diverse walks of life. In reviewing it, 
 the question presented itself whether this book 
 should run to the proportions of two volumes? 
 I decided to limit them to one. If the gentle 
 public please, they shall have the other at a later 
 time. 
 
 HENEY W. LUCY. 
 
 Reform Club, 
 March, 1909. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 FAOE 
 
 I. My Start in Life 1 
 
 II. In the Hide and Valonia Bitsiness . . 14 
 
 III. Poetry and Phonogseaphy 21 
 
 IV. FmsT Engagement on the Press ... 41 
 V. Editor and Part-proprietor .... 48 
 
 VI. Private Secretary 56 
 
 VII. Penny-a-Liner 63 
 
 VIII. A Struggling Journalist 69 
 
 IX. Still struggling 82 
 
 X. Talk with Charles Dickens .... 86 
 
 XI. I JOIN THE Daily News 91 
 
 XII. London Correspondent Ill 
 
 XIII. The World and Matfair 119 
 
 XIV. Editor or the Bailt News . . . .129 
 XV. A Page of Secret History . . . .137 
 
 XVI. The Dunmow Flitch 150 
 
 XVIL Fred Burnaby 155 
 
 XVIII. A Haunted Table 166 
 
 XIX. Episodes 191 
 
 XX. "In Journeyings often" 200 
 
 XXI. Theodore Roosevelt at the White House . 214 
 
 ix 
 
X CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 XXII. Maek Twain 220 
 
 XXIII. PaELIAMENT A2fD THE PeESS . . .230 
 
 XXIV. "Mr. Speaker GpscHEN" . . • .238 
 XXV. A Lectueing Toue 245 
 
 XXVI. ]VIe. Chambeeiain 252 
 
 XXVII. Heney Ieving 264 
 
 XXVIII. Cecil Khodes befoee the Kaid . . .271 
 
 XXIX. LOED PuUSSELL OF KiLLOWEN . . . .277 
 
 XXX. Me. Gladstone 287 
 
 XXXI. A Scape-goat of the Boee Wae. . . 316 
 
 XXXII. "C.-B." 321 
 
 XXXni. OtTE Dogs 333 
 
 XXXIV. The OBSEsrss and the Strand Magazise . 346 
 
 XXXV. On Tvnok Staff 353 
 
 XXXVI. Tenniel and Du Maueiee .... 377 
 
 XXXVII. SiE Feancis Buenand 396 
 
 XXXVIII. TniRTy-six Yeaes' Haed Laboue at West- 
 minster 404 
 
 Index 435 
 
SIXTY YEAES IN THE 
 WILDEENESS 
 
 MY START IN LIFE 
 
 In tlie course of a lecturing tour which befell eight 
 years ago, announcement in the local papers that 
 I was to visit Gloucester brought me a letter from 
 an unknown correspondent urgently asking for an 
 interview. Having half an hour to spare, I called 
 and heard the interesting disclosure that I, as head 
 of the Hereford branch of the Lucy family, am the 
 rightful owner of Charlecote. 
 
 I bore the news with philosophical calmness, 
 but was interested in the voluminous notes of 
 pedigree my friend in his zeal had acquired. They 
 showed, what is an uncontested fact, that in the 
 year 1786 George Lucy of Charlecote died childless. 
 There was much hunting for the heir, resulting in 
 the claim of a Mr. Hammond, second cousin of the 
 late lord of Charlecote, being conceded. Where- 
 upon he, by sign manual, took the name of Lucy, 
 According to my informant, my forebears, then 
 living in Ledbury, whose church still shelters 
 
 B 
 
2 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 monuments to dead-and-gone Lucys, should have 
 fought for their own. Probably in those days of 
 slack intercommunication they never heard of the 
 sudden death of the intestate owner of Charleeote. 
 However it fce, I must leave the responsibility with 
 them. 
 
 I was born at Crosby, near Liverpool, on 
 December 5. It is characteristic of the haphazard 
 ways of the household to which I was introduced 
 that it is at this time uncertain whether the year was 
 1844 or 1845. With old-age pensions available, 
 I begin to think it must have been 1844. Crosby 
 at that time was a rural village. Certainly there 
 was a garden attached to our house, as I remem- 
 bered my mother telling me how my father used 
 to carry me round it, picking for me the largest 
 strawberries. 
 
 Even at the time this was told me I thought it 
 notable, since it was about all he ever did for me. 
 An engraver in the watch trade, admittedly of 
 great taste and skill, he never within my knowledge 
 was capable of making both ends meet. His father 
 was a well-to-do old gentleman with a large family, 
 amongst whom on his death he equally divided his 
 fortune. I do not remember the legacy making 
 any appreciable difference in our household. Prob- 
 ably it was mortgaged in advance. My grand- 
 father lived in a terrace of white houses at Seacombe, 
 facing the river and Liverpool. I recollect only 
 once finding myself in his august presence. He 
 was sitting at one side of the fireplace (left-hand 
 
MY STAET IN LIFE 3 
 
 side going in), a prim gentleman dressed in black, 
 with a white neckcloth and a chilling aspect. On 
 the other side of the fireplace sat an old lady, also 
 bolt upright, in a black gown, with a colossal white 
 cap on her head, on the whole of kindlier aspect. 
 
 There came to me in due order of bequeathal 
 their portraits, painted more than a hundred years 
 ago by a master-hand. They hang in our dining- 
 room in London, and follow the comings and goings 
 of the grandson with wondering eyes. My grand- 
 father put me through a tremendous examination, 
 chiefly in arithmetic, and when it was over gave me 
 fourpence. From the length of the examination I 
 expected at least half a crown. As it turned out, 
 fourpence was the kinder gift. At that time there 
 was stationed at the approach to St. George's 
 Landing stage at Liverpool a man with a truck on 
 which was displayed a tempting array of a com- 
 pound resembling very stiff batter pudding. 
 Greyish-white in hue, here and there a raisin was 
 ostentatiously stuck on the surface. It was sold in 
 slabs, a penny each. Passing homeward, I invested 
 half my capital in this nameless substance. I was 
 dreadfully ill after eating it, and see now the finger 
 of Providence in my grandfather's restraint from 
 opulent generosity. If he had given me the half- 
 crown and I had bought fifteen pennyworth of this 
 stuff, my career, not yet started, would never have 
 been run. " Called hence by early doom," I should 
 have " lived but to show how sweet a flower in 
 Paradise might bloom." 
 
4 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 I do not remember Crosby. My first re- 
 collection of budding life goes back to a time 
 I was sitting on my mother's knee learning my 
 letters out of a bible, tbe red leather binding of 
 wkicli I see as I write. It was a Sunday after- 
 noon and the people were passing down the road 
 going to cburcli. There was in Mill Lane a Chapel 
 of Ease in connection with Everton Church, at 
 whose services I, at a very early age, became a 
 regular attendant. Before I was four years old I 
 could read fluently. Taken to church and set to 
 stand on the bench, I proclaimed the accomplish- 
 ment by reciting the responses at the top of my 
 voice. I was conscious of creating a sensation, 
 which I fear bound my thoughts to earth to the 
 detriment of spiritual advancement. 
 
 Then and throughout my boyhood I was taken 
 with great regularity to as many services as the 
 church provided. One Sunday afternoon, still at 
 this little schoolroom in Mill Lane, it happened 
 that the Curate in Charge did not put in an 
 appearance. After waiting a while, it was decided 
 that we had better go home. I set off, holding by 
 the hand some grown-up — I do not remember who. 
 Just as we got to the end of Mill Lane, turning 
 homeward along Everton Road, the familiar church 
 bells suddenly rang out. I knew what was the 
 matter. The laggard Curate had turned up and it 
 was decided to commence the service. I was in 
 mortal terror that my temporary guardian would 
 also note this signal, would rightly construe its 
 
MY START IN LIFE 5 
 
 meaning, and that I should be conducted back to 
 sit out the service. He did not grasp the situation, 
 much to my surprise at the time. Now I suspect 
 that possibly he was not so dense as he seemed. 
 
 This must have happened while we lived 
 in Baines Place, oflf Breck Koad. Baines Place 
 was a cul-de-sac, and the next move of our 
 household was into another cul-de-sac, named 
 Christian Street. These were probably the only 
 streets of this construction in Everton, and my 
 father found them both out. In a figurative 
 sense he himself, through all his life, dwelt in a 
 cul-de-sac. In Christian Street he set up in 
 business for himself, and later I, wishful to do 
 something to help him, undertook to keep his 
 books and make out his accounts. The gross 
 amount was so ludicrously small that after a while 
 I gave it up. Yet he was always going to be a 
 rich man. He shut himself up in his little work- 
 room engaged in inventing things. What he 
 invented I never knew, for he always locked the 
 door when he went out, and the pecuniary pro- 
 ceeds of the enterprise never appeared in the 
 day-book or ledger I kept. One idea he had was 
 to preserve flowers beautiful for ever. I call to 
 mind a melancholy collection of roses, with some- 
 thing mysterious done to their stems, submitted 
 for family approval. They looked very miserable 
 to start with, and, presently dying, my father 
 locked himself in his room and invented some- 
 thing else. 
 
6 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 He had a passion, not shared by an unworthy 
 son, of getting up early in the morning and going 
 out for a walk in what was at that time the 
 sylvan district of Everton, with its Rupert Lane 
 and other mementoes of a time when the Cavalier 
 Prince held the hill for the King. On one of 
 these excursions he made the acquaintance of 
 an Irishman, who told a piteous tale of want 
 and hunger. He was brought home and served 
 with a substantial breakfast. For some time 
 after he was generally within hail at breakfast 
 time. Desirous of showing his gratitude, he 
 presented my father with a goat, probably " con- 
 veyed" from an unprotected field. If he had 
 given us a white elephant it would scarcely have 
 been more embarrassing. What to do w:ith the 
 goat became a matter of anxious family council. 
 There was a strip of garden at the back of the 
 house that seemed the very place for him. He 
 was accordingly installed with a rope round his 
 neck attached to a stake driven into the ground. 
 
 It was late spring time, and the garden looked 
 quite pretty as we tenderly bade the goat good- 
 night, placing a cabbage within convenient 
 distance should he wake in the night and feel 
 hungry. The early riser, looking out upon the 
 garden the following morning, beheld a painful 
 sight. The prim grass plot was torn up as if a 
 troop of cavalry had galloped across it. Flower 
 beds were ravaged. Nothing but a wrack of stem 
 and leaf was left behind. Billy, as we fondly 
 
MY STABT IN LIFE 7 
 
 called our guest, had pulled up the stake a^d 
 passed a pleasant night with the pansies, wall- 
 flowers, white rock, and other cherished flowers. 
 
 Evidently this wouldn't do. Beneath the stair- 
 case leading to the kitchen there was a closet. 
 It was predestined for Billy. But you may bring 
 a goat to the top of a staircase ; you can't be 
 sure he will descend. We ingeniously over- 
 came the difl&culty by one walking backward 
 down the staircase, holding a carrot at reasonable 
 distance from Billy's nose. When he completed 
 descent the carrot was thrown into the closet, he 
 made haste to follow, we shut and latched the 
 door, and once more were able to breathe freely. 
 
 An hour later the household was disturbed by 
 piercing shrieks. One of the girls, going upstairs, 
 came upon Billy on the second landing. He had 
 butted open the door below the kitchen staircase, 
 and, with instinctive hereditary habit, climbed the 
 heights beyond. 
 
 The next morning I volunteered to take him 
 out to feed in a field close by. We got there all 
 right, I desperately holding on to the rope round 
 his neck. He evidently appreciated the grass, ate 
 his fill, and, probably cheered by the meal, began 
 ambling round me in distinctly unpleasant fashion. 
 After treading a few measures he bolted, I fell 
 flat on the grass hoping that my weight, if it did 
 not bring him to a halt, would at least hamper 
 him. Billy took no more notice of me than if 
 I'd been a feather. After dragging me along for 
 
8 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 what seemed a mile, tearing my pinafore to shreds, 
 scratching my hands and knees, he threatened me 
 with worse fate when we reached the high road. 
 I was constrained to let go the rope. Billy, 
 kicking up his heels with access of delight, speedily 
 disappeared round the turn of the road, and, like 
 ships posted up at Lloyds', has " not since been 
 heard of." 
 
 Another grateful beneficiaire was a house-painter. 
 In this case it was my mother's kindly heart and 
 hospitable habits that won his gratitude. He 
 came from Westmoreland, where his father was 
 farmer in a small way, his mother a notable maker 
 of cheese. He was, he said, presently going home 
 for a holiday and would bring back a cheese. 
 
 He was as good as his word. But never before, 
 on sea or land, was encountered a cheese like this 
 product of Westmoreland. It was not very large, 
 and in shape suggested a cannon-ball. Another 
 kindred point was its excessive hardness. On its 
 arrival the familiar process of attacking it with a 
 knife was tried. It turned the edge of several. 
 A hammer was equally inefficacious. At length 
 a chopper was brought into play, and in the 
 course of time the spheroid yielded to its 
 influence. 
 
 Whilst elder members of the family wielded 
 the chopper, I made rather a good thing out of 
 it, since under successive blows small pieces of 
 glistening cheese were distributed about the floor. 
 With a crust of bread they were excellent. 
 
MY STAET IN LIFE 9 
 
 It was from Christian Street that I took the 
 first important step of my life. I went to school. 
 In many ways the accident of the choice of my 
 school has influenced my life. But, as far as my 
 parents were concerned, the selection was made 
 in the usual happy-go-lucky fashion. I think the 
 strongest motive in settling the matter was the 
 remarkably low scale of school fees. The maximum 
 charge was five shillings a quarter. The Crescent 
 School, as it was called, was started in connection 
 with the Crescent Chapel, then under the adminis- 
 tration of the Eev. John Kelly. A committee of 
 the congregation managed the school, and where the 
 school pence fell short of meeting the charges 
 the deficit was met by subscription. It was not, 
 as will be guessed, an aristocratic seminary. In 
 my time it was dowered with the possession of a 
 heaven-bom schoolmaster. Sometimes I used to 
 hear of boys playing truant. I think I could 
 have better understood their running away from 
 their dinner to get back to school, and, as the 
 incident of the nameless compound purchased 
 after the visit to my grandfather testifies, I was 
 pretty hungry in those days. To me, under the 
 kindly, firm direction of Mr. White, school was a 
 place of daily delight. 
 
 The Crescent School was managed under the 
 monitor system. There was a head-master, two 
 or three assistant masters, and what seemed in- 
 numerable classes were taken by monitors selected 
 from the upper forms. The usual course was for 
 
10 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 a boy to enter one of the lowest classes and so 
 work his way up to the first, itself divided 
 into four sections. .Thanks to my mother, to 
 whom I owe whatever is good in me, I was, on 
 the preliminary examination, found so far advanced 
 that I was at once placed in the fourth division of 
 the first class. I do not know how old I was when 
 I entered the school. I must have been a mere child. 
 Certainly I was not yet breeched. I do not forget 
 this, because my appearance in the first class was 
 much resented by the older boys who had won 
 their way there through all the grades. What 
 with my lace-frilled calico pantalettes, and my 
 unusual surname, they affected to believe I was 
 a girl, an imputation that sorely wounded me. 
 
 Though I do not know at what age I entered 
 the school, I know the precise date on which I 
 left it. It was in August, 1856, at which time I 
 was nearing eleven, or twelve, as the case may be. 
 It marked the full extent of my schooling. Little 
 as was the amount of school fees, the watch- 
 engraving business falling upon bad times, and 
 the inventions still halting on the way to per- 
 fection, payment was frequently in arrears. I 
 suppose I should have left school before the 
 mature age I reached, had it not been for a 
 fortuitous circumstance in connection with the 
 school system. I very soon made my way into 
 the first division of the first class- — One-number- 
 One, it was quaintly called — and was made a 
 monitor of the first rank, receiving a subsidy 
 
,,. . MY STABT IN LIFE 11 
 
 whicli, if not taxed by fines, amounted to as mucH 
 as two shillings a month. Fines were devised for 
 all kinds of things. With an average measure of 
 versatility and perseverance, a monitor could in 
 a single day incur an aggregate of fines that 
 would exceed a whole month's pay and leave him 
 indebted to the committee. My fines were all 
 under one head— arriving late in the morning. 
 By resolutely struggling against my infirmity, I 
 managed to draw five shillings, or very nearly 
 five shillings, within the three months, and, when 
 quarter day came round, proudly paid my school 
 fees out of my own pocket. 
 
 In 1856 circumstances pointed to the appro- 
 priateness of the time for withdrawing from 
 school. One was that in a school of five or six 
 hundred boys I had at the midsummer half won 
 the head prize. I have it in my bookcase now, 
 with my dear old schoolmaster's inscription of 
 name and date. Of all books in the world to 
 give a boy it was a translation of D'Aubigny's 
 *' History of the Keformation," printed in double 
 columns of small type, and cheaply bound in blue 
 cloth. I frankly confess that with an insatiable 
 thirst for reading, I have never read D'Aubigny's 
 " History of the Keformation." At the time of its 
 presentation I seem to have preferred works of 
 another character, especially delighting in Walter 
 Scott and Captain Marryat. An elder sister 
 kept me in thrall, her humblest bondservant for 
 weeks, with the spell of Anne of Gierstein. She 
 
12 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 had the book, and doled it out to me an hour at a 
 time in consideration of doing some errand or other 
 service for her. 
 
 One day, whilst still at school, I was sent 
 down to a circulating library in Lord Street, to 
 change a book*. The volume was " Percival Keene." 
 As I walked along I looked through the pages. 
 Fascinated, I began at the beginning and read 
 steadily on, walking through the crowded streets. 
 The library was, I think, called the Athenaeum, a 
 sombrely respectable place, led up to by stone 
 steps. On one of these I sat down and went on 
 with the story. When I looked up the aspect of 
 the street was changed. Lamps were beginning 
 to twinkle here and there. People were hurrying 
 homeward in a steady stream. It was evening, 
 and the library was closed ! I had been sitting on 
 the steps all through the day, dinnerless. But I 
 had finished " Percival Keene," 
 
 Years after, going down to Portsmouth as 
 special correspondent of the Daily News, awaiting 
 the return of the troops from Ashantee, I remem- 
 bered how Percival Keene had, in his day, 
 swaggered through the streets of the town, I 
 took the book with me to read it in the very place 
 Marryat once made familiar to my mind. Alack ! 
 I could not get through fifty pages of the book, 
 would indeed, if I had had the choice, doubtless 
 have preferred D'Aubigny's " History of the Refor- 
 mation." 
 
 That I should have won the head prize seemed 
 
MY STAET IN LIFE 13 
 
 to show that there was nothing further for me to 
 learn at the Crescent School. An additional, per- 
 haps weightier, reason for withdrawal, was the 
 possibility of my supplementing the household 
 revenues by whatsoever modest weekly wage. I 
 do not remember that there was any serious or 
 prolonged discussion as to the precise channel for 
 launching me in life. The elders of the Crescent 
 Chapel, mostly Liverpool merchants or traders, 
 testified to their interest in the school by finding 
 room for the boys of the first class in their offices. 
 Purely by accident I was spared the shop, and the 
 first vacancy being in the oflice of Messrs. King 
 and Son, stock and share brokers, I went there, 
 entering public life in August, 1856, at a weekly 
 wage of 3s. 6d. 
 
II 
 
 IN THE HIDK AND VALONIA BUSINESS 
 
 I HAVE often wished I had stayed longer in this 
 o£&ee. Acquaintance with stockbroking and the 
 ways of the Stock Exchange form a useful addition 
 to general knowledge. It certainly would have 
 been much more valuable than the insight into the 
 hide and valonia business I next had an oppor- 
 tunity of acquiring. My Stock Exchange con- 
 nection was prematurely cut short by a failing 
 never eradicated. I had to be at the oflBce by nine 
 o'clock in the morning, and I rarely was. After 
 one or two remonstrances, Mr. King gave me a 
 week's notice. Thus was I shipwrecked on the 
 very threshold of life. I remember, walking home 
 on the last night of my engagement, coming up 
 with another little office-boy also homeward bound. 
 We did not know each other, had never been 
 introduced, but, after the manner of boys, fell into 
 conversation and exchanged confidences. I was 
 sad at heart, comparing my lot with his : he a 
 trusted, probably a treasured, assistant in a com- 
 mercial house. I disgraced, dismissed with 3s. 6d. 
 in my pocket, and no prospect of replenishing it. 
 
 14 
 
IN THE HIDE AND VALONIA BUSINESS 15 
 
 My mother went to my old schoolmaster, who 
 speedily put me on the track of another engagement. 
 This was with Mr. Eobert Smith, hide merchant. 
 Mr. Smith was a deacon at the Crescent Chapel; 
 and a member of the school committee, a note- 
 worthy man who, directly and indirectly, had 
 considerable influence on my life. His office was 
 in Eed Cross Street, a worm-eaten, rat-haunted 
 place in a courtyard near the docks. On one side 
 stood the warehouse, an old building which dated 
 back almost to the founding of Liverpool's fortunes. 
 It has disappeared long ago ; probably it fell down, 
 as the workmen used to tell me it certainly 
 would. 
 
 Mr. Smith was not in a large way of business, 
 and the clerical staff was limited. There was 
 an old gentleman, formerly a prosperous hide 
 merchant, who had come down in the world, and 
 was glad to take the 30s, or 40s. a week offered 
 him by the frugal Smith. I always had a notion j 
 of course purely imaginative, that poor old 
 Tunstall, when he took service, had promised to 
 bring over some of the customers who had con- 
 tributed to the fortunes of his own house when he 
 was a merchant prince. They never came, and 
 that was a circumstance that did not assist Mr. 
 Smith in overlooking the broken-down old man's 
 habit of midday tippling. Tunstall and I shared 
 a desk. Across the waste of years I smell the 
 caraway-seed he assiduously chewed on returning 
 from one of his excursions to report on some cargo 
 
16 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 of hides lie had been examining or valonia he had 
 been sampling. 
 
 Between these two men there was a universe of 
 difference. Old Tunstall, with his red nose grow- 
 ing too weak to carry the glasses he wore on its 
 very tip, shambling about the ofl&ce in his shabby 
 black clothes, pen in hand, crunching his caraway- 
 seed and affecting to be stupendously busy : prim 
 Eobert Smith, tall, erect, spotless in attire — a 
 blue frock-coat, buff waistcoat, grey trousers, with 
 riding-straps tightly holding them over his square- 
 toed shoes. He was, I think, a kind-hearted man, 
 but he was not genial. When the odour of cara- 
 way-seed was exceptionally pungent, it was painful 
 to see him cast upon old Tunstall a look of wither- 
 ing indignation, anger and scorn that made mc 
 tremble in my boots. 
 
 That I wore boots is, by the way, a fact that 
 proves Mr. Smith was not so tyrannical as memory 
 recalls him. For himself he had worn shoes all his 
 life, and he had no patience with people who pre- 
 ferred boots. One recommendation about his shoes 
 he, really anxious for my welfare, pointed out was 
 that, having them made exactly the same shape, 
 he could change them about every morning, and so 
 wear them evenly on sole and heel. 
 
 " What do you want with lefts and rights ? " 
 he used to ask me, as if I were responsible for the 
 introduction and prevalence of the national custom. 
 
 He cherished a deeply rooted objection to the 
 use of envelopes. All the correspondence of the 
 
IN THE HIDE AND VALONIA BUSINESS 17 
 
 office was carried on upon smooth blue paper of 
 letter size, a naake extinct now, I fancy. It was 
 folded over and fastened with a wafer, and woe to 
 me if the corners were not true and square. 
 
 Mr. Smith lived in a house facing a pleasant 
 walled garden in Breck Eoad, now a nest of jerry- 
 built cottages. Office work began at nine in the 
 morning and finished at any time in the evening 
 between six and eight. On Saturday afternoons 
 we were supposed to make holiday. When I first 
 went to Eedcross Street it was one of my multi- 
 farious duties to walk up to Breck Lodge every 
 Saturday afternoon for clean towels. As it was 
 three miles from the office this pretty well disposed 
 of my half-holiday. Two small towels were doled 
 out to us every week, Mr. Smith, though scrupu- 
 lously clean himself, not thinking it necessary we 
 should waste his time at the office with undue 
 ablutions. It occurred to me that if I brought 
 down four or six towels at a time, I might some- 
 times have a Saturday afternoon for other pur- 
 poses. It was long before I carried the point. 
 For years " the boy " had journeyed on Saturday 
 afternoon to Breck Lodge with two soiled towels, 
 bringing down two clean ones on Monday mornings, 
 and if the rule were broken no one could say what 
 might happen. 
 
 Everything in Mr. Smith's house and office 
 went by rule. So abject was the terror in which 
 every one near him lived that the housekeeper had 
 quite a turn when I broached the subject. A dear 
 
 c 
 
18 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 old thing was Anne, one of my earliest friends. 
 With a maid-of-all-work and occasional assistance 
 from Joseph, who doubled the functions of gardener 
 and coachman, she managed the household. Her 
 kitchen was a paradise of cleanness and neatness, 
 with bright* brass pans flashing on the walls, 
 and a steel fender gleaming in the firelight. 
 Very early in our acquaintance Anne took to 
 asking me to tea, when I, towel-laden, made my 
 weekly visit : tea with real cream in it, cakes 
 of her own making, bread-and-butter, jam galore, 
 now and then, when fortune favoured the hens, 
 an egg. 
 
 Joseph was a big, heavy-limbed, red-and- white- 
 faced man, brought from Bolton cheap. He had 
 an ineradicable objection to brushing his boots, 
 whether as to soles or uppers, and as a consequence 
 was never permitted to enter Anne's kitchen. If 
 • he had anything to say, he stood at the open door 
 and bawled it out, or made uncouth signs at the 
 window. 
 
 It shocked my sense of propriety even in those 
 childhood days to see Joseph sitting behind his 
 master on the dogcart driving down to the office, 
 the one looking as if he had stepped out of an 
 old picture-frame, the other frowsy, unwashed, with 
 garden soil clinging to his boots, and hairs from 
 the horse's coat speckling his garments. Thought 
 and speech came slowly to Joseph, the mechanism 
 being curiously assisted by a habit of unfastening 
 the last two buttons of his waistcoat. As daily 
 
IN THE HIDE AND VALONIA BUSINESS 19 
 
 life presented many problems, Joseph's waistcoat 
 was rarely fully buttoned, a peculiarity that did 
 not add a toueb of smartness. He was, however, 
 a capital gardener, growing whole beds of sweet- 
 smelling flowers, stocks, sweet-williams, verbenas, 
 wallflowers, with here and there the glory of a 
 rose-bush. Sometimes when I walked through 
 the garden on the way home and came across Mr. 
 Smith, he would say, "Henery" — he could not 
 make too much of me, so added a syllable to 
 my Christian name — "would you like some 
 flowers ? " 
 
 I would indeed. So we walked round the 
 garden, and he picked out all the full-blown roses 
 on the verge of dissolution and any other flowers 
 the judicious cutting of which would improve root 
 or branch. Though on beneficence bent, Mr. Smith 
 ever had a frugal mind. His fitful generosity rose 
 to reckless heights when, at the dose of seven 
 years' service on a very miserable salary (quite as 
 much as I was worth in the hide and valonia line), 
 he, as a parting gift, presented me with a five- 
 pound note and some books. In view of the act 
 of grace he went about his library on the principle 
 that guided his steps in the garden — weeding it 
 out, as it were. The volumes, being chiefly of a 
 theological character, made quaint additions to my 
 treasured possessions. But a book is a book, and 
 I was glad to have these, just as I was really 
 grateful for the faded flowers. 
 
 Seven years I served Mr. Smith. How I 
 
20 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 managed to stay or how he managed to keep me 
 is alike inexplicable. 
 
 " I like the smell of a good hide, Henery," he 
 sometimes said, regarding me with stern reproach. 
 
 On my soul and conscience I could make no 
 sympathetic response, for I hated the smell and 
 loathed the touch. Almost worse was the valonia. 
 This, I may mention for the guidance of the 
 uninitiated, is a tanning substance imported from 
 the Levant, in appearance something like the acorn, 
 with a supernatural capacity for creating dust. 
 We had many samples in the office spread out on 
 brown paper on a broad desk close by mine. I 
 suspected at the time, and am now certain, that 
 when Mr. Smith came up to this desk, got hold 
 of a sample of valonia, shook it violently about 
 and buried his face in the cloud of dust by way 
 of smelling it, he was thinking more of me than 
 of the quality of the valonia he affected to test. 
 He knew I was privately possessed of a rag 
 with which, when left in the office by myself, I 
 used to free my desk from the abominated dust. 
 He did not mean it unkindly. It was discipline 
 intended for my good here and hereafter. 
 
Ill 
 
 POETRY AND PHONOGRAPHY 
 
 The weakness tliat proved my ruin at Messrs, 
 King's was not overcome by the consequent dis- 
 aster. I was rarely at Redcross Street by nine 
 o'clock, which did not matter if Mr. Smith had not 
 arrived. Sometimes he had, and, as I had to 
 pass his private office on the way to my desk, I 
 caught sight of a visage clothed in blood-curdling 
 wrath. His habit was to sit in his room with 
 his door closed, but he never failed to have it 
 wide open when he was there first and I late. 
 I believe he, at whatever sacrifice of personal 
 convenience, made these occasional nine-o'clock 
 raids in order to cause me righteous uneasiness 
 on approaching the office, uncertain whether he 
 might have arrived. In later years he devised a 
 more ingenious and, for him, more luxurious way 
 of doing his duty to me in this respect. He asked 
 me to breakfast at Breck Lodge, and as the time 
 fixed was eight o'clock, it practically came to pass 
 that I was obliged to be in evidence fully an hour 
 before the ordinary office time. Many a miserable 
 night I spent in anticipation of the necessity 
 
 21 
 
22 SIXTY YEABS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 of breakfasting at Breck Lodge at eight in the 
 morning. 
 
 I seem to have been nearly always in disgrace, 
 earliest of all in connection with the old warehouse 
 ill Eedcross Street. From the topmost floor on 
 the fifth storey there projected a crane with a long 
 chain and a gigantic hook at the end. This was 
 designed to haul up bales of hides or sacks of 
 valonia for storage in the various rooms. I spent 
 a good deal of time in this old warehouse on 
 friendly terms with the men. When they were 
 lowering bales or sacks I was accustomed, being in 
 the yard, to plant a foot in the hook, fold one leg 
 round the returning chain, and, gripping it with 
 both hands, triumphantly ascend. Once, when I 
 had got as far as the third storey and was still 
 slowly ascending, I heard a familiar footstep in the 
 arched passage that led into the yard. Presently 
 Mr. Smith emerged, and stood staring at me. Of 
 course I could not descend. The men were working 
 on the topmost storey and the winch seemed to 
 be hauling very slowly. As I turned round and 
 round like a goose on a turnspit I caught glimpses 
 far below of a terrible face regarding me. He did 
 not say a word, but stood there till I was safely 
 landed. Then his voice rang out sharp as a pistol- 
 shot. " Henery ! " he called, and, turning, walked 
 with long stride up the steps to his office, where I 
 presently followed and had a very bad quarter of 
 an hour. 
 
 His wrath, fortunately, had time to cool before 
 
POETEY AND PHONOGEAPHY 23 
 
 anotlier accident befell me in the very same yard. 
 I was always fond of horses and would ride any- 
 thing. When there was nothing else available I 
 used to mount the leading horse of the team taking 
 out a load or an empty cart from the warehouse. 
 Egress to the street was obtained through a narrow 
 covered passage with just room enough for the 
 massive lorries, as they were called, to pass in and 
 out, with space for a chance passer-by if he didn't 
 mind squeezing himself against the wall. One 
 afternoon, mounted on the leading horse of a 
 loaded lorry, I had ridden midway down the 
 passage, when Mr. Smith suddenly turned the 
 corner from the street and approached the yard. 
 If I could have got inside the horse I would have 
 done so. Failing that, there was nothing but to 
 go forward, and as Mr. Smith drew himself up 
 against the wall for the team to pass, my foot 
 almost impinged on the purity of his buff waist- 
 coat. 
 
 What an expressive face he had ! I have never 
 before or since seen any one who could look so 
 eloquently angry and speak never a word. He 
 had a lovely chestnut mare. Bess was her name, 
 and many a gallop I have had with her. When 
 we left Eedcross Street and went to King Street 
 there were no stables attached to the office. Mr. 
 Smith coming down in the morning, it fell to my 
 lot, amongst multifarious duties much less agree- 
 able, to take the mare to the livery stable. Kid- 
 ing or driving, we ever reached our destination by 
 
24 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 a circuitous route, and had to go pretty fast, as 
 prolonged absence might have led to awkward 
 inquiries. 
 
 On Fridays the local hide market was held in 
 Gill Street out of London Road. Mr. Smith rode 
 down to the* office about ten o'clock to read the 
 letters, and then proceeded to the market. In the 
 mean time I was told off to " mind the mare," which, 
 construed by a well-regulated mind, meant walking 
 her up and down the street for a quarter or some- 
 times half an hour. I never took that view of my 
 duty. As soon as Mr. Smith was safely in his 
 room immersed in his letters, I shortened the 
 stirrups, got some passer-by to give me a leg-up, 
 and was off at a smart trot, past the Custom House 
 and up Duke Street, a broad and comparatively 
 quiet thoroughfare, where there was opportunity 
 for a spanking trot. I managed to get back in 
 good time, lengthened the stirrups, and when Mr. 
 Smith came down to set off for the hide market 
 nothing save a tendency to hard breathing on 
 the part of Bess hinted at occurrence of any 
 impropriety. 
 
 One morning catastrophe befell. Either I went 
 too far or the correspondence was unusually brief. 
 However it be, when Mr. Smith came down to 
 take horse I was somewhere near the top of Duke 
 Street, a good mUe and a half off, riding back 
 rapidly but still too late. When I reached King 
 Street, Mr. Smith, after, as I heard, fuming terribly, 
 had taken a cab and gone off to the market. 
 
POETRY AND PHONOGEAPHY 25 
 
 When he came back, a good hour later, I was 
 quietly leading Bess up and down. He gave 
 me one of his withering glances, but as usual did 
 not speak. The warehouseman was sent down 
 to relieve me. I went upstairs, sat at my 
 desk, and became terribly busy. A terrible 
 voice, three-syllabled in its wrath, called out 
 "Henery!" 
 
 "Henery," he said, when I went in to him, 
 " do you want to leave my service ? " 
 
 "No, sir," I answered. 
 
 "Then don't do that again." And there the 
 conversation ended. 
 
 There was at hand the severance of my com- 
 panionship with Bess and the beginning of the 
 end of my connection with hides and valonia. 
 One day there joined the little ofl&ce staff a young 
 giant, Fred Gough by name. He was the son of 
 a tanner, one of our customers. With the family 
 Mr. Smith cultivated friendly relations which in 
 later years culminated in his marrying Fred's 
 widowed mother. A good-natured, hearty, genial 
 fellow was Fred, gifted with a fine bass voice. 
 In occasional moments of relaxation, when Mr. 
 Smith was on afternoon "'Change," good for an 
 hour's absence, we used to draw round the fire- 
 place and Fred sang "The Wolf" and other songs 
 of tremendous volume. By a pleasant fiction, he 
 was understood to be my junior. When I saw 
 him stand on a chair and with perfect ease wind 
 the clock over the fireplace I felt my occupation 
 
26 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS . 
 
 was gone. It was only by planting two press- 
 letter books on the loftiest stool in the office that 
 I was able through a long series of Monday 
 mornings to wind the clock. 
 
 Fred immediately forestalled me in the matter 
 of looking after Bess. He took her to the livery 
 stable in the morning and rode her home to Breck 
 Lodge on the occasional evenings when Mr. Smith 
 was going straight from the office to a tea-party 
 or a prayer meeting. 
 
 What was even more important was that Fred's 
 appearance in the office crushed out the last hope 
 of opportunity of getting on. There was a 
 time when — ^Heaven help me ! — I quite resigned 
 myself to hides and valonia, was even eagerly 
 looking forward to promotion which, had it come, 
 would have satisfied my aspirations. Shortly 
 after we removed from the musty warehouse to 
 King Street poor old Tunstall broke down, and 
 quitted a world that had grown a homeless place 
 for him. This left a clerical staff composed of 
 myself and the gentleman who combined the 
 functions of cashier and bookkeeper. Mr. Ealeigh — 
 George Gordon Ealeigh was his full name, possessing 
 a sonorosity which had a great charm for my ear 
 — elected to take Tunstall's place, going out into 
 dank cellars sniffing at hides and burying his nose 
 in valonia dust as he had seen Mr. Smith do. 
 Thus the way was open for me to Ealeigh's place, 
 and I cherished the hope that it was to be mine. 
 It was encouraged by two circumstances. One 
 
POETRY AND PHONOGEAPHY 27 
 
 was that a boy was engaged to do some of my 
 work, and I did all Ealeigh's. I kept the books, 
 made out the invoices, and had daily charge of 
 considerable sums of money, I toiled terribly, 
 coming down with preternatural punctuality at 
 nine o'clock in the morning, staying at my desk 
 till seven or eight at night. 
 
 Mr. Smith, to do him justice, never said a 
 word to encourage my delusion, and did not 
 increase by a penny a wage by this time risen 
 by slow gradations to the princely sum of ten 
 shillings a week, peradventure twelve and six- 
 pence. I was patient, always naturally inclined 
 to hope for the best and believe in the brightest. 
 For six months I literally slaved at work which 
 had in some measure lost its uncongeniality in 
 presence of greater responsibility and the prospect 
 of promotion. One morning — a Monday morning 
 it was, I remember— there walked into the office 
 a gentleman with sallow face and long red hair 
 lavishly oiled. He went into Mr. Smith's room. 
 Presently Mr. Smith brought him out to the 
 desk at which I was struggling with a day- 
 book nearly as big as myself, and told me iri 
 his prim matter-of-fact way that this was Mr. 
 Blossom, and that Mr. Blossom would take Mr. 
 Ealeigh's place. 
 
 Dear old Blossom, kindest of natures, best of 
 bookkeepers, was a man of cultured mind and 
 artistic taste, bubbling over with humour, with 
 keenest, never-ending delight in Dick Swiveller 
 
28 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 and the Marchioness. If I could, without incon- 
 venience to anybody else, have shot him dead on 
 the spot, I believe I should have done so. In 
 view of all the circumstances, I made believe that 
 it was, as our mutual friend Mr. Toots used to 
 say, " of no consequence," straightway moved over 
 bag and baggage to the other side of the desk, and 
 for the remainder of my office experience sat there, 
 helping Blossom to make invoices and jokes. I 
 never said a word to Mr. Smith of protest or 
 reproach. Looking back upon the event now, I 
 recognise in it a course of conduct one would not 
 look for in a deacon. It was unrelieved even by 
 the tendering of a five or a ten-pound note in 
 acknowledgment of at least fifty pounds I had 
 saved him in wages. I now see in it the happiest 
 deliverance that ever befell me. It was not only 
 that I, being almost in the toils, was delivered 
 from the destiny of the commercial clerk, but Jacob, 
 my supplanter, was the very man whose help, 
 often given unconsciously, was of priceless value 
 to me at this juncture. Blossom was an omnivorous 
 reader, a man of pronounced literary taste, in whose 
 company I found encouragement and education. 
 
 It was no new thing for me to turn my atten- 
 tion towards literature. As soon as I could read 
 I wanted to write, and did so pretty freely. My 
 first serious work, written in my twelfth year, was 
 an essay on King David. Lacking breadth of 
 mind and mature judgment, I was much struck by 
 one side of his character, and that not the most 
 
POETRY AND PHONOGEAPHY 29 
 
 reputable. When after the first month or two in 
 Eedcross Street I got on friendly terms with 
 Kaleigh, terms that never varied during our long 
 acquaintance, I brought this precious MS. down to 
 the office and inflicted several pages upon him. 
 It was written in a scathing style : the sort of 
 thing that makes one, reflecting in maturer years, 
 glad that King David had passed away so that 
 there was no possibility of his seeing or hearing 
 what I thought of the whole story of his relations 
 with Uriah the Hittite. Kaleigh was, or professed 
 to be, deeply shocked at the free handling of the 
 subject. 
 
 My next work was a novel. This was chiefly 
 written in my fourteenth year, and, judging from 
 a fragment I came across many years after, was a 
 particularly base imitation of the worst style of 
 Charles Dickens. I set myself to produce a certain 
 amount of copy every day, or rather every night, 
 for the work was done on my return home from the 
 office. I generally managed in the afternoon, in 
 prolongation of invented inquiry after some invoice 
 or account, to get down to what was then called 
 " the big " Landing Stage. Walking up and down 
 by the side of the bustling river, I thought out 
 incidents and characters in this masterpiece of fiction 
 covering sufficient ground for the night's writing. 
 
 About this time I became possessor of a book 
 that had a marked and permanent influence. I 
 think I owe more to it than to any I ever read. 
 It was Smiles' " Self -Help," given to me by Mr. 
 
30 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEBNBSS 
 
 Henry Draper, a tanner from Kenilworth. He 
 was one of Mr. Smith's customers, and sometimes 
 coming into the oflSce when I was in sole charge 
 used to chat with me on other subjects than hides 
 and valonia. I have the book yet with its inscrip- 
 tion written iu faded ink. Thirty years later, a 
 guest on board the Teutonic of that truly great 
 man Thomas Ismay, steaming to Portsmouth to 
 take part in the Naval Review in honour of the 
 visit of the Emperor of Germany, I made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Smiles. I told him how I 
 had come to read his book, and was glad of the 
 opportunity of expressing the life-long obligation 
 under which it laid me. I learned from it a lesson 
 verified by subsequent experience, that there is no 
 royal road to any goal worth reaching ; that the 
 only efiective help is seK-help. 
 
 Having in the circumstances already related 
 finally convinced myself that there was no room 
 for me in Mr. Smith's office, I returned with more 
 deeply rooted purpose to my old dream of literature. 
 As far as I could see my way, I came to the con- 
 clusion that fiction offered the most successful 
 avenue to an established position and ultimate 
 fame. That I should get on somehow I never had 
 the slightest doubt, a confidence not uncommon 
 with boys who think it would be a nice thing to 
 write books. I did not hesitate to say as much to 
 Sir Edward Bulwer Lytton. I had been reading 
 " The Caxtons," " My Novel," and a series of what 
 I am afraid are now forgotten essays, " Caxtoniana." 
 
POETEY AND PHONOGEAPHY 31 
 
 I read everything I could get hold of, but hankered 
 after authoritative direction for a course of study. 
 I wrote to Bulwer Lytton asking him to advise 
 me, apologising for addressing him without being 
 personally acquainted, mentioning in offhand fashion 
 the certainty that some day we should " meet on 
 the ladder of fame." I remember the phrase, 
 because shortly after I had posted the letter it 
 occurred to me that it was maladroitly expressed. 
 Of course, if we were to meet on a ladder, as I 
 would be going up, the author of " My Novel " 
 would be coming down. I do not know whether 
 the same idea struck and affronted Sir Edward 
 Lytton. Certainly he did not answer my letter. 
 
 Laying aside the unfinished novel, which I 
 don't think had any plot to speak of, I took to 
 writing short stories, all unknowing that I was 
 attempting what well done is an exceedingly rare 
 accomplishment. I finished two or three and sent 
 them the dreary round of the magazines, with 
 stamps enclosed and a polite request for the return 
 of the MS. if unsuited, a boon in no single instance 
 refused. The first time I saw myself in print was 
 as a poet. The Liverpool Mercury in those 
 days had a Poets' Corner, to which for a year or 
 eighteen months I became an occasional contributor. 
 It was poor stuff, but mine own, and I was much 
 elated to see myself in print with my name fully 
 signed. 
 
 Some time before we left Eedcross Street, 
 Jlaleigh had by gtrategic movements succeeded in 
 
32 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 getting a daily newspaper taken for office use. 
 He began by paying for it out of his own purse. 
 Then one week, making up the petty cash, he 
 casually slipped in the item, " Mercury, &d." 
 As nothing was said, he boldly went on, and the 
 daily newspaper became an institution. For a long 
 while Mr. Smith loftily ignored it. Kaleigh found 
 an opportunity of explaining that it was necessary 
 by reason of the advertisements of sales. It was 
 therefore suffered, but, regarded as light literature, 
 it was anathema. I do not fancy Mr. Smith 
 read much, nothing of modern literature, unless 
 the Evangelical Magazine, taken monthly, came 
 under that denomination. His ignorance of what 
 was going on in the world at the time must have 
 been amazing. Since, however, the newspaper was 
 there, and he was paying for it, he by slow degrees 
 became a reader. He would not take it up in the 
 morning and devour its contents as we did. Some- 
 times in the afternoon, his soul comforted by a 
 mutton chop brought in from a neighbouring 
 eating-house, he would call out, " Henery, let me 
 glance my eye over the Merh'ry." 
 
 That was his way of putting it, and it was not 
 without signification. Abandoned people like my- 
 self, or even George Gordon Ealeigh, might, setting 
 aside ledgers and invoices, sit over a frivolous 
 newspaper and read it through. For him, with 
 some consciousness that he was dallying with sin,, 
 he might in office hours " glance his eye over" the 
 paper — only one eye, observe. I am afraid that 
 
POETEY AND PHONOGEAPHY 33 
 
 his habit of calling me Henery and, by way of 
 compensation, cutting out a syllable from Mer- 
 cury, may convey the impression that he was an 
 illiterate man, which was certainly not the case. 
 It was a fashion of pronunciation, perhaps local, 
 but strongly marked. 
 
 One afternoon in King Street, nearing the time 
 of my deliverance, I heard the sharp, peremptory 
 voice calling out for " the Merle ry!' It that day 
 had published one of my poetical effusions— a 
 bolder flight than usual, something, I think, in 
 blank verse. I had spent a meagre annual holiday 
 at Buxton, nursing a mighty muse amidst its mist- 
 crowned hills. About this time I discovered Poe 
 and read him with avidity. My verse was a 
 spasmodic echo of the story of one of the beautiful 
 and mysterious females who occasionally visited 
 in ethereal form the sympathetic poet. It pur- 
 ported to relate how one of these anonymous 
 maidens had looked me up in the loneliness of 
 the Derbyshire hills and in musical language had 
 bidden me be of good cheer, as eventually all 
 would be well. I carried the Mercury into 
 Mr. Smith's office with a sickening apprehension 
 that this female would get me into trouble. In 
 about ten minutes I heard the cry, " Henery ! " 
 I went into his room. There he sat, with 
 spectacles on his forehead and the Mercury 
 in his hand, folded at the place where my verse 
 stood prominent among the news and notes of 
 the day. 
 
34 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 " Is this yours ? " he said, his small bright eyes 
 fixed upon me with piercing gaze. 
 
 It was no use denying, so I boldly avowed it. 
 Refixing his spectacles on his nose, he slowly read 
 out the hapless verse line by line. When he came 
 to anything approaching a trope he inquired "what 
 that meant," and when I explained he asked me 
 " why I hadn't said so." As for my mysterious 
 maiden, he, so to speak, tore her frail form to 
 shreds. 
 
 This lack of sympathy with my literary 
 aspirations was strictly confined to Mr. Smith's 
 room. The outer office was unfeignedly proud 
 of my distinction, and the morning a flash of 
 my verse illuminated the Mercury was always a 
 cheerful time. Blossom called me " The Poet," 
 a name which stuck till I left the office, and was 
 used as constantly and as naturally as if it were 
 my surname. Once Blossom alluding to "the 
 Poet" in a business conversation with one of the 
 tanners, a stalwart giant over six feet high, he 
 looked surprised, and said, " Poet, what poet ? " 
 
 " That one," said Blossom, pointing to me with 
 his pen. 
 
 "Well," said the giant, looking down on my 
 few inches, "he's certainly not Longfellow." 
 
 Grood that for a tanner. 
 
 One day — I fancy in the spring of 1863 
 
 Blossom suggested that he and I should learn 
 shorthand, so, as he put it, we might write notes 
 to each other across the desk at which we sat. 
 
POETEY AND PHONOGEAPHY 35 
 
 Without definite idea whither the step might lead, 
 I agreed. We bought Pitman's elementary books 
 and set to work. We went on with great energy 
 till we had mastered the alphabet and could form 
 words of one syllable almost as fast and nearly 
 as legibly as if they were written in longhand. 
 This point reached, Blossom fell away. I, begin- 
 ning to see that if I could not vault into literature 
 over a three-volume novel, I might creep into 
 journalism from the reporter's note-book, resolved 
 to go on. It was peculiarly hard work, since, 
 though reading came to me by nature, writing 
 was always laborious, the work ill-done. The 
 boy or man who cannot write longhand freely and 
 legibly may never become an adept at shorthand. 
 I never did. 
 
 In truth, whilst ranking as a reporter I was 
 something of a fraud in the important matter of 
 shorthand writing. Somehow I got along without 
 conspicuous disaster, though my early experiences 
 included a brief engagement on the gallery staff 
 of the Times as locum tenens for a man who was 
 away on circuit. What would have happened 
 supposing I had got a late " turn " with Grladstone 
 or Disraeli I do not know, and did not at the 
 time trouble to forecast. I must have had rare 
 good luck, for old Eoss, then manager of the 
 Times corps — who on the instant took a personal 
 dislike to me, not modified by my, a year 
 or two later, appearing in the Gallery in the 
 position of manager of the Daily News corps — 
 
36 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 had me "on the gridiron" only once, and that 
 for a comparatively minor fault. This genial 
 old gentleman, who, at the time I made his acquaint- 
 ance, had not spoken to his brother for a quarter 
 of a century, albeit he was a member of the Times 
 parliamentary corps, was said to be the only person 
 who ever read through the voluminous daily reports 
 of parliamentary proceedings. He had furnished 
 him every morning a copy of the paper, with 
 every man's turn marked. He carefully studied 
 these, finishing in time to get down to the House 
 by four o'clock, the hour at which the Speaker at 
 the time took the Chair. 
 
 Old members of the corps knew quite well when 
 Ross had a good crop of complaints and corrections 
 to make. On such occasions his face was illumined 
 with a cheerful look customarily lacking. As soon 
 as questions were over, he used to take his seat on 
 a bench between the exit from the gallery and the 
 small room in which the Times men wrote out 
 their turn. As the culprits passed out, ignorant 
 of what was in store for them, old Eoss called 
 them one by one to sit by him, and, opening out 
 the paper, would descant on their laches. This was 
 known in the gallery as " being on the gridiron." 
 
 When my turn came Ross pointed to the name 
 of Mr. Ward Hunt, whose speech I had reported, 
 and in a terrible voice said — 
 
 "Who is Mr. Ward Hunt?" 
 
 " The Chancellor of the Exchequer," I humbly 
 answered, as indeed he was in that year. 
 
POETEY AND PHONOGEAPHY 37 
 
 "Mr. Ward Hunt," said Ross, with added 
 asperity, " will do very well for the penny papers. 
 To the Times he is Mr. W. Hunt ; don't forget that." 
 
 I never did, though I never understood the 
 force of the objection, or why Mr. Ward Hunt 
 should do for the penny papers. But old Eosa 
 was, as the cabman said about Dickens' friend 
 Forster, " a harbitrary gent." 
 
 The door-keeper in attendance on the outer 
 Press Gallery was named Wright, an accidental 
 circumstance to which Eoss for some unaccountable 
 reason objected. So he called him Smith, or 
 " Smeeth " as he used to pronounce it in his 
 drawling tone. 
 
 In the spring of 1864, having mastered the 
 science of phonography and convinced myself that 
 with practice I should speedily be able to take a 
 verbatim report of a speech, I resolutely set 
 myself to obtain an engagement as a reporter. 
 I went the round of the Liverpool offices, going 
 first, I think, to the Mercury, where my halting 
 verse had given me some kind of introduction. 
 The editor was courteous, even kindly, but had 
 nothing for me. Last of all, not in despair, because 
 I meant to go on till I succeeded, I called on 
 Edward Eussell, then assistant editor of the 
 Liverpool Post in collaboration with its gifted, but 
 truculent, proprietor, Mr. Whitty. At the outset 
 this interview promised to end as the others had 
 done. After some talk Eussell began to display 
 interest in the matter, asked me to attend a public 
 
38 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 meeting, write a summarised report and submit it 
 to him. This I did, and he was so far satisfied as 
 to promise that to the first vacancy on the report- 
 ing staff I should have a good chance of being 
 appointed. This was great encouragement. But 
 there was a necessary indefiniteness about the 
 arrangement, and whilst it was or was not matur- 
 ing I looked out in every direction for a chance 
 opening. 
 
 In later years I have been the regular recipient 
 of applications from all kinds of people, young and 
 old, who thought that by writing a letter or speak- 
 ing a word I could forthwith secure their engage- 
 ment on some first-class journal. It may serve a 
 practical purpose to be precise in detailing the steps 
 by which I finally obtained a footing on the Press. 
 
 Amongst these was a letter written to the 
 proprietor of a powerful engine of public opinion 
 which is, I trust, still alive and prosperous. By 
 way of practice with shorthand I took copies of 
 letters I wrote at this epoch, and am able to 
 transcribe this one addressed to the editor of the 
 Runcorn Observer. Apparently, I had answered an 
 advertisement for a general utility man, and the 
 proprietor had replied asking if I could also work 
 at case. My answer is dated the 6th of August, 
 1 864— 
 
 "Dear Sir, — In reply to your favour just to 
 hand, I am willing to undertake the duties you 
 enumerate, with the exception of assisting at case. 
 
POETEY AND PHONOGEAPHY 39 
 
 In addition to the ordinary duties of a reporter, 
 I might furnish an original leading article, or a 
 summary of the news of the week, writing local 
 paragraphs, and, if you wish, keep the books. I 
 shall also be happy to canvas for advertisements 
 and further the interests of the paper as far as lies 
 in my power. The salary I require is 30s. a week." 
 
 The Runcorn Observer, alas ! would have none 
 of me. My lamentable ignorance of the printer's 
 craft proved an insuperable objection. But if the 
 gates of Kuncorn (home of chemical "manufacture 
 we could almost smell in Liverpool when the wind 
 blew from the east) were closed against me some 
 other would open. 
 
 I pegged away making applications whenever I 
 saw an advertisement. If I could not get an open- 
 ing on a reporting staff, I was ready to take any berth 
 that would open the doors of a newspaper office to 
 me. A correspondence clerk in the office of the 
 Wolverhampton Chronicle would not be the rose. 
 But he would be living near it, and I fruitlessly 
 tried for that appointment. I also made formal 
 application for the post of shorthand writer to the 
 Mersey Docks and Harbour Board. The salary was 
 £100 a year, just twice what I was receiving after 
 serving a seven years' apprenticeship to hides and 
 valonia. The providence that shapes our ends 
 would not follow up this particular rough-hewing, 
 and some one sure to be much better qualified for 
 the coveted post secured it. 
 
40 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 One day in this month of August I came across 
 an advertisement for a chief reporter on a leading 
 county paper. Considering I had never been even 
 a junior reporter and had absolutely no experience 
 on the Press, this scarcely seemed addressed to me. 
 Nevertheless* I answered it, enclosing a copy of a 
 letter Edward Russell had written to me for use as 
 a reference. This audaciously kind letter settled 
 the business. The leading county paper in search 
 of a chief reporter turned out to be the Shrewsbury 
 Chronicle, and Mr. John Watton, the proprietor, 
 was in such a hurry to secure at the modest wage 
 of 30s, a week the paragon Eussell's kindly fancy 
 had painted that he telegraphed an engagement, 
 and urged me to join with the least possible delay. 
 
IV 
 
 FIRST ENGAGEMENT ON THE PRESS 
 
 On July 22, 1864, I arrived in Shrewsbury with 
 all my worldly goods in a tin-box, bought at a 
 second-hand shop in Dale Street, Liverpool. They 
 did not amount to much. In money I had a trifle 
 over the five pounds !Mr. Smith, in an ungovernable 
 fit of generosity, presented me with. I had no 
 introductions, did not know a soul in the town. I 
 left my luggage at the railway station and walked 
 along High Street, asking my way to the Chronicle 
 oflSce, which I found in a quaint old street that 
 greatly charmed my young fancy. I walked up 
 and down the opposite side once or twice, before, 
 plunging in, I announced myself and my engage- 
 ment. The outer door opened on to a kind of 
 shop that served for the publishing office. Behind 
 the counter was a spectacled man with bushy 
 whiskers, whom I subsequently knew as the 
 publisher. I explained my business. He stared 
 at me for a moment through his glasses ; then he 
 said, " Oh ! " After which he looked at me again, 
 and when the pause was growing embarrassing 
 added, "You'd better come and see Mr. Watton." 
 
 41 
 
42 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 He led the way to a room on tlie right-hand 
 side of the passage, and presented me to the editor 
 and proprietor of the leading county paper. It 
 was an odd coincidence, and I felt it a little 
 discouraging, that Mr. Watton, on my being 
 announced, said " Oh ! " in almost the same tone 
 the publisher had adopted, looking me over in the 
 same incredulous and dissatisfied manner. There 
 was no doubt I did not in any degree come up 
 to their ideas of what the chief reporter of a 
 leading county paper should look like. Though 
 turned twenty, I did not look more than sixteen 
 or seventeen. Had I happened to present myself 
 in jacket and trousers I might have passed for a 
 schoolboy. 
 
 Some time later, in a moment of confidence, 
 the publisher told me that Mr. Watton was very 
 angry at what he was inclined to regard as an 
 imposition, and resolved forthwith to give me 
 notice. He did not, and when in a surprisingly 
 short time I, having mounted to the dizzy heights 
 of editor and part-proprietor of another paper, gave 
 him notice, he, not aware of my budding greatness, 
 caused it to be intimated to me in diplomatic fashion 
 that if I were leaving on account of salary the 
 difficulty would be adjusted. 
 
 Watton was a curious little man, spare in figure 
 and, I fancied, born old. He came into the pro- 
 perty of the Chronicle as the son of his father, and, 
 being there, edited the paper. A shy, nervous, 
 restless man, he shut himself up in his room and 
 
MEST ENGAGEMENT ON THE PEESS 43 
 
 spoke seldom to any one in the office. There was 
 a sub-editor, a poor fellow dying of consumption, 
 who used to cough terribly on publishing nights. 
 There was a district reporter, stationed at Welsh- 
 pool, who was wont to cast around Thursday nights, 
 when the paper should go to press, a halo of 
 romantic interest. He usually had the proceedings 
 at a farmer's ordinary to report, a flower show, a 
 cattle show, or a meeting of county Members with 
 their constituents to describe. He was an honest, 
 hard-working Welshman, with a large family and 
 a positive passion for sherry. If he got within 
 reach of a sherry decanter on any of these festive 
 occasions, either his report did not turn up at 
 all, or it arrived opening pretty fairly, gradually 
 deepening into absolute incoherency. Many an 
 hour have I spent trying to make a connected 
 story out of this gentleman's copy, having in the 
 final folios no hints save a few hieroglyphs. When 
 he was very bad indeed he used to drop into Welsh, 
 which for all practical purposes was quite as useful 
 to me as the English which marked the advancing 
 depletion of the sherry decanter. He had, I 
 learned, been many years on the paper, and he 
 was there when I left it. 
 
 Another person who much impressed me in this 
 my earliest acquaintance with the Press was the 
 overseer of the printing-office. His name, when 
 he first came to the office, was Smith. After a 
 while he took to spelling it Smyth, and when I 
 arrived he had come to be addressed as Mr. Smythe. 
 
U SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEEKESS 
 
 In personal appearance he was singularly like an 
 elderly Dick Swiveller. The paper coming out on 
 Friday morning, he made holiday on Saturday. 
 He made a point of swaggering up and down 
 High Street on fine Saturday afternoons, ogling 
 the shop-girls and maid-servants. He wore 
 a frock-coat tightly drawn in at the waist. I 
 believe on Saturdays he secreted stays. His hands 
 were covered with dirty gloves, often yellow, some- 
 times lavender, in hue. He had a glistening pin 
 fastening a many-coloured scarf, displayed under a 
 dirty linen collar. The crowning grace of his figure 
 was a white hat with a deep black band. With 
 this set rakishly over his right ear, and a tasselled 
 cane swung negligently in his gloved hand, 
 Smythe was a credit to the paper. He was a 
 cheery gentleman, with a loud somewhat stagey 
 laugh, accompanied by weU-considered flourishes 
 of his right arm and easy bending of his knees. A 
 remarkable character whose individuality remains 
 vividly stamped on my memory. 
 
 My first work on the Chronicle was a rather 
 serious undertaking. There was an annual review 
 of the Yeomanry, or Militia, at which all the county 
 gathered. Except for the account of a meeting in 
 Liverpool written at Mr. Eussell's suggestion, I had 
 never before attempted reporter's work. I got 
 through somehow, as I did with whatever else fell 
 to my share in the miscellaneous work of the office. 
 There was a Tuesday paper, an ofishoot of the 
 Chronicle. It had a single leading article, which 
 
FIEST ENGAGEMENT ON THE PEESS 45 
 
 Mr, Watton generally wrote himself. After I had 
 been on the staff four or five weeks I wrote one, 
 furtively dropped it in the letter-box, and was 
 greatly elated at finding it in the next issue of 
 the paper. Mr. Watton dissembled his joy, making 
 no reference to the little incident, though he must 
 have recognised the handwriting. 
 
 There was at this time in Shrewsbury a miser- 
 able little weekly sheet called The Observer, pub- 
 lished on Saturdays, at the price of a penny. It 
 had no leading article, and its local news was 
 " conveyed " from the pages of its more prosperous 
 neighbours. The proprietor was a stationer in 
 High Street, of whose full style, boldly displayed 
 over the window, it will be sufficient to mention 
 the Christian name, which was Peter. I wrote a 
 column of notes on news, sent it to Peter, and 
 proposed to furnish a similar contribution weekly 
 for a payment of ten shillings. Anxious to meet 
 any particular views he might entertain, I offered 
 to make the contribution either a leader, a column 
 of notes, or a London letter, written, of course, 
 from Shrewsbury. My communication was anony- 
 mous, and I asked Peter, if he thought anything 
 of the project, to address me under certain initials 
 in the correspondence column of his paper. I 
 opened the Observer on the following Saturday, and 
 there were my notes on news in the dignity of 
 leader type, and a couple of lines asking " L. H." 
 to call and see the proprietor. The result of 
 this communication was that I became a regular 
 
46 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 contributor to the editorial columns of the Observer 
 at a salary of ten shillings a week. 
 
 There was nothing particular in the writing 
 except that it dealt with local subjects in a fashion 
 untrammelled by the personal considerations that 
 weigh with the editors and proprietors of news- 
 papers in small country towns. A new system of 
 sewage was at the time greatly agitating the mind 
 of the ratepayers. Simultaneously the Northern 
 and Southern States of America were at each other's 
 throats across the Atlantic. The secret designs of 
 Napoleon III. were not above suspicion. The 
 Chronicle, having its principal leading article sent 
 down by luggage train from London, was pointed 
 and graphic in its commentary on the latest battle 
 between the Federals and Confederates, and was 
 deep in the mysteries of the mind of Napoleon III. 
 But the people of Shrewsbury primarily wanted to 
 know all about the new sewage system and the 
 proposed Market Hall, and when they found these 
 matters discussed in the columns of the Observer, 
 with occasional hard raps distributed among dis- 
 putants on the Town Council, they rushed to buy 
 the paper. Its sale went up in inspiriting fashion, 
 and I had the satisfaction of hearing many ask who 
 was the new writer ? Peter kept the secret, and 
 so did I. Finally, gossip was divided between two 
 well-known local personages, one a stockbroker with 
 a literary turn, the other a militant Nonconformist 
 minister. 
 
 Encouraged by this success, I opened in the 
 
FIEST ENGAGEMENT ON THE PEESS 47 
 
 same way communications with, the proprietor of 
 a paper at the neighbouring town of Wellington, 
 called the Shrojpshire News. After some corre- 
 spondence, I arranged with him to write a weekly 
 article at the rate of 105. 6c?. a week. Peter, 
 growing rash with the bounding prosperity of 
 the Observer, proposed that I should write two 
 articles a week, throwing them in for 15s. The 
 Shropshire News was published on Thursday, the 
 Chronicle on Friday, the Observer on Saturday. 
 Thus by working hard — and I liked the work 
 — I managed to keep things going. In addition, 
 I was the local correspondent of the principal 
 daily papers in London, Liverpool, Manchester, 
 Birmingham, Sheffield, and Leeds. At the end 
 of 1864 I find in the shorthand diary I then kept 
 a triumphant note showing that I had more than 
 doubled my income, my modest 30s. a week from 
 the Chronicle being supplemented by a larger sum 
 made after I had done my office work. 
 
 The articles in the Shropshire News did not 
 attract so much attention as those in the Observer, 
 but the proprietor, a sterling, honest man, was 
 satisfied. He, of course, did not know I was 
 also the Observer's scribe, and once wrote me a 
 kindly note to say that for his part he thought 
 the News leaders were as good as the Observer's, 
 indeed he liked them better. 
 
 " They are more solid," he dubiously said. 
 
EDITOE AND PART-PROPEIETOK 
 
 In January, 1865, Peter began to hint proposals for 
 an open and closer connection with the Observer. 
 I did not altogether like his business ways. The 
 considerably increased revenues of the paper did 
 not with perfect regularity run in the direction 
 of producing my weekly IS*. Peter never said 
 " No " when I looked in for money on the Satur- 
 day afternoon, nor did he make any excuse for 
 delay, nor promise of early payment. He used 
 to lean one elbow on the shop counter, and in his 
 low tone, with a peculiar smile on his thin lips, 
 a far-away look in his watery-blue, small eyes, he 
 changed the subject. 
 
 In addition to his temporal concerns in High 
 Street, Peter was a local preacher. He was always 
 dressed in black, rather rusty in colour but clerical 
 in cut. He also appeared, weekday and Sunday, 
 in a white neckcloth. The dreamy look that oyer- 
 cast his countenance when I mentioned my 15s., 
 in conjunction with his reflective attitude sup- 
 ported by the counter, was, I fancy, reminiscent 
 of his pulpit manner. However it be, my wages 
 
 48 
 
BDITOE AND PART-PROPEIETOE 49 
 
 were always in arrear till I hit upon the idea of 
 taking them out in books. To this Peter made 
 no objection, and I dare say I got much more 
 benefit from this method of payment than if he 
 had awakened out of his reverie and handed me 
 the pieces of silver. I have at this day a copy of 
 Tennyson's poems, bound in calf (price 18s.), of 
 whiclu I thus became possessed. Also a delight- 
 ful pocket edition of Shakespeare, bound in red 
 morocco, bearing the imprimatur of Bradbury, 
 Evans & Co., Bouverie Street. I often wondered 
 since, sitting at the Punch table with my 
 old friend William Bradbury in the vice-chair, 
 whether Peter ever paid for the book? I am 
 afraid not. 
 
 As a result of many conversations, Peter and 
 I came to an understanding. I would undertake 
 the editorship of the Observer only on condition 
 that I had a share in the property. It was finally 
 arranged that I was to be editor and manager at 
 a salary of £150 a year; that I was to become 
 part-proprietor, paying down a sum of £50 and 
 contributing to capital not less than £50 a year. 
 I find these particulars in the shorthand diary I 
 kept at this time. Either the entries are incom- 
 plete or the proceedings were extremely hazy. 
 What share in the concern I was to undertake 
 or what was the estimated value of the property 
 does not appear. I had no one to advise me, and 
 seem to have taken the initiative in carrying out 
 the arrangement. I got a little handy volume of 
 
 E 
 
50 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 the " Law of Partnership," which I carefully studied. 
 I drew up a form of agreement embodying our 
 proposals, which, after much shilly-shallying, Peter 
 signed. 
 
 All being ready, I gave Mr. Watton notice 
 to leave the* Chronicle, and, being free from the 
 engagement, set to work to start the Oiserver on 
 a new basis. It came out in enlarged form in 
 March of this year (1865), the circulation going 
 up in exhilarating fashion. The movement was 
 steadily maintained through several weeks. There 
 is no doubt that, had I had assistance in the com- 
 mercial department, the enterprise would have 
 succeeded, and I should have lapsed into the 
 proprietorship of a country paper. Outside the 
 printing-room there was literally nobody but my- 
 self. I did the editing, sub-editing, reporting, 
 leader-writing, reading of proofs, and collecting 
 of advertisements. Early in our career I not only 
 saw the paper to press at any hour between mid- 
 night and two in the morning, but I stayed on 
 the premises till at least sufficient sheets were 
 pulled off the machine to meet the early local 
 demand. 
 
 A primitive hand-press, worked by a large 
 flywheel, sufficed for the needs of the paper in 
 its early days. The circulation was now large 
 enough to justify a steam press, and one was 
 ordered. For the first week or two we had the 
 hand-press worked by relays of men. As I found 
 that the relays were in the habit of simultaneously 
 
EDITOE AND PAET-PEOPEIETOE 51 
 
 withdrawing for intervals of rest, and as there 
 was no one else to look after them, I spent the 
 night between the editorial room and the cellar 
 where the edition was being ground out. After- 
 wards we had a steam press and a very smart 
 engineer, and I was relieved from this addition to 
 miscellaneous duties. 
 
 The first issue of what was practically the new 
 paper came out on Saturday, April 29, 1865. I 
 find in my diary the entry : " Up all night at 
 work. About four o'clock this morning I asked 
 Peter's son, who had undertaken the overseership 
 of the printing-office, how much more there was 
 to set. ' Five columns,' said he. That, with our 
 staff, would bring the paper out about noon. Told 
 him to put in some blocks ; got the paper out soon 
 after eight o'clock, looking very nice and with a 
 show of advertisements that will astonish some 
 people." 
 
 That this complacency was not altogether due 
 to parental prejudice may perhaps appear from 
 two letters out of some dozen that came from 
 outside to cheer me in my work. I select them 
 as they are from gentlemen whose names are 
 known outside Shrewsbury. Dr. Kennedy, then 
 Headmaster of the School, wrote prophesying great 
 things for me in the profession on which I was just 
 entering. The other letter is from Mr. Samuel 
 Lucas, a member of the Times staff in Delane's 
 day, to me at that time a bright star in Journalism. 
 
52 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 " 6, CoEK Stebet, Buklington Gaedbns, 
 
 " LoKDON, Juhj 11, 1865. 
 
 "Let me say — and it is no insincere compli- 
 ment — that I have never seen a provincial journal 
 better digestied and edited, and more full of interest- 
 ing matter than yours is. If you ever pay a visit 
 to London, I should be very happy to see you 
 and to make your acquaintance." 
 
 I am sorry to say I never found opportunity 
 of clasping the hand thus kindly held out to an 
 unknown beginner. 
 
 Matters seem to have improved by the next 
 week. I find the entry in my journal : " Got 
 away from the office a little before five this 
 morning " — that is, of course, having been at 
 work all the previous day and up all night. 
 Before a month had sped I began to see the 
 impossibility of accomplishing the task I had 
 undertaken with so light a heart. Working all 
 through the day, far into the night on Wednesdays 
 and Thursdays, all night on Fridays, I kept the 
 thing going, even improved its position. 
 
 Here is the testimony of a paper of high 
 standing on the Welsh border. I cut out the ex- 
 tract and plastered it over some of the wounds dealt 
 me by Peter, with his imperturbability, his flashes 
 of shiftiness, and the absolute incompetency of his 
 precious son. Said the Oswestry Advertiser in an 
 editorial note: " The literary air of Shropshire seems 
 to be unusually brisk at present. In Oswestry we 
 
EDITOE AND PAET-PEOPEIETOE 53 
 
 have a new magazine announced, and in Shrewsbury 
 a couple of newspapers commenced. Perhaps I 
 should not say commenced in both cases, for one, 
 the Shrewsbury Observer, has been in existence for 
 some two or three years, although its existence 
 was, until lately, all but unknown out of the town. 
 My first acquaintance with it I noticed at the 
 time, and since then I have seen several numbers, 
 and have, from their very novelty in a Shrewsbury 
 paper, been attracted by the tone and execution 
 of the leading articles. Well, on Saturday last, 
 the Observer came out as a full-blown eight-sheet 
 paper, and issued one of the most manly and 
 straightforward prologues that it has ever been 
 my lot to see in a country paper. The editor very 
 cleverly describes the old-fashioned leading county 
 paper that once held the sway, and still believes 
 itself to be of leading importance in these terms : 
 
 " ' Years ago, when John Walter was working 
 at case, and meditating on the birth of The Times, 
 the Sleepy Sentinel first mounted guard ; and, 
 like a faithful soldier, on guard he has remained 
 till this hour, with little of change about him 
 except that in these bright bustling days his 
 sleepiness is more noticeable than of yore. The 
 founder is gathered to his fathers, but the property 
 is handed down with the chairs and tables from 
 generation to generation ; and sons and heirs, 
 who might have made good tradesmen or passable 
 farmers, find themselves in the position of a news- 
 paper editor. They conduct the Sentinel because 
 
54 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 their father did it before them, and people buy 
 the lively publication, partly from analogous 
 reasons, but principally because they have no 
 choice in the matter ! ' " 
 
 I might have staggered along under the weight 
 of the Observer, but I could not also carry Peter 
 pere et fils. Except in writing leaders on all 
 possible subjects, work that came to me by nature, 
 I had to feel my way at every step. Nine months 
 earlier I had never been inside a printing-office, 
 had no experience of newspaper work, either 
 editorial or managerial. Now I was both editor 
 and manager, without a friend to whom I might 
 turn for counsel or instruction. I pegged away, 
 and would doubtless have gone on till I had 
 physically broken down but for a harmless little 
 incident in Peter's career. He had reached the 
 end of his financial tether, lengthened a little by 
 my JC50, and was, as with his ineffable smile he 
 one morning informed me, " going through the 
 Bankruptcy Court." 
 
 In my ignorance I declared that he should 
 not drag the Observer with him, my poor progeny 
 that was, in spite of all, beginning to feel its 
 feet. Peter's creditors chiefly lived in London, 
 and, learning that a meeting was fixed for a 
 particular day, I resolved to attend it. I posted 
 off to London and found the office where the 
 meeting was held. I do not know now where 
 it was situated, but well remember walking into 
 the room and finding half a dozen gentlemen 
 
EDITOR AND PART-PEOPEIETOR 55 
 
 sitting round a table discussing Peter and the 
 possibility of pocketing any of his pence. I 
 think I took high ground with them ; told them 
 how I had created the paper and was even part- 
 proprietor. This last piece of information staggered 
 them. Peter had evidently not thought the 
 circumstances worth mentioning in drawing up 
 a statement of his affairs. After a little conver- 
 sation, an old gentleman, who seemed to be the 
 chairman, whose kindly face I still recall looking 
 at me with pitying glance, told me that Peter 
 had been bankrupt for considerably more than 
 a year, months before he had taken my ewe 
 lamb of £50. The deed of our partnership was 
 incomplete, informal, even unstamped, not worth 
 the paper it was written on. 
 
 And this after my study of the shilling book 
 setting forth the whole law of partnership, and my 
 consultation with Peter on quiet Sabbath evenings 
 when he came home from his preaching ! 
 
 The old gentleman tried to cheer me by con- 
 gratulating me on this state of things ; for, as he 
 said, had I been legally in partnership with Peter, 
 I too must have been sold up. He advised me not 
 to say anything to any one in Shrewsbury about 
 the deed of partnership, to go away and make the 
 best of a bad job. I am not sure whether this 
 excellent and kindly advice was given before a 
 leading question had drawn from me the admission 
 that I had no more capital at my disposal. I 
 always hope it was. 
 
VI 
 
 PRIVATE SECRETARY 
 
 This was a pretty fair start in life. Within 
 seven months I had made my debut on the Press, 
 had climbed to the dizzy height of editorship, then 
 suddenly, as at the moment appeared hopelessly, 
 tumbled down. It was no use complaining, much 
 less folding one's hands and waiting for some- 
 thing good to run up against one. I had a friend 
 in Shrewsbury whose sincerity circumstance had 
 already tested. This was Kichard Samuel France, 
 a name well known in the railway world in 1863-5. 
 Son of a farmer, and having inherited the ancestral 
 estates, he raised a little money by selling a 
 portion of them for the purposes of a railway then 
 making its way from Shropshire into North Wales. 
 The contractor came to a difficult point in the con- 
 struction of the line, stumbled, bungled, and finally 
 broke down. France, who had had no previous 
 training for the work, thought he saw how it 
 should be done, boldly took up the dropped 
 contract, and triumphantly completed the line. 
 It was a period of considerable excitement in 
 
 the railway and financial world. A powerful 
 
 56 
 
PEIVATE SECRETAEY 57 
 
 London syndicate put their money on France, and 
 he began to make railways right and left. Two of 
 them exist to this day, being known as the Shrews- 
 bury and North "Wales, and the Wrexham, Mold, 
 and Connah's Quay lines. France moved to 
 Shrewsbury, purchased a big house and grounds, 
 was elected to the Town Council, pressed to become 
 mayor, might have been member for the borough 
 if an election had turned up handy. A man of 
 great natural ability, a fluent speaker, a terrible 
 slogger in Town Council debate, with an open hand 
 and a frank, handsome countenance, he was for a 
 while the idol of Shrewsbury. He was attracted 
 by the first series of articles in the Observer dealing 
 with local affairs with an absence of circumlocution 
 unfamiliar in the elder Press. 
 
 Whilst the authorship of the articles was un- 
 suspected, France, who as a public man knew the 
 chief reporter of the county paper, often spoke to 
 me about them and asked me why the Chronicle 
 did not do something like that. When I deter- 
 mined to throw in my lot with Peter, I revealed 
 to France my identity with the anonymous writer. 
 He, in his downright hearty manner, at once 
 volunteered to lend me any capital that was 
 necessary to establish my co-partnership in the 
 Observer. He asked me how much I wanted to 
 begin with. I said £50. He was astonished at 
 my moderation, and so indeed was Peter when I 
 related the incident to him. Peter would dearly 
 have liked to get his fat hand into France's 
 
58 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 capacious purse, and it is clear enough now that 
 knowledge of my friendly relations with the great 
 railway contractor considerably smoothed the ad- 
 vancing stages of our agreement. I accepted the 
 money from France as a loan. When within a 
 couple of years I had earned the money in other 
 fields, I sent it to him and had it promptly returned 
 with a kind and generous note. In later years, 
 when the railway boom was over, and France was 
 no longer a wealthy man, I found an opportunity 
 of again pressing it on his acceptance. He was 
 even more resolute, and so to the end of the 
 chapter it was his money that Peter pouched. 
 
 France happened to be in London at the very 
 time I confronted Peter's creditors. Next morning 
 I called at his hotel. He was not up, but gave 
 orders for my admission to his bedroom, and there 
 I unfolded my tale. 
 
 " It's very awkward for you," said he, " but 
 it's the very thing for me. I was just wanting a 
 private secretary. Come along, and your salary 
 commences from to-day at £150 a year." 
 
 Here was a sudden turn of events, I was 
 falling, as it seemed, into abyss of poverty, and 
 here I was, landed on my feet in Eldorado, I had 
 never had a salary of £150 in my life. This time 
 last year I weltered on a wage of 20s, a week ; in 
 August it rose to 30s. Then, it is true, I had 
 within four months reached an income averaging 
 £150 a year. But it was made up of items, some 
 precarious. It is also true I had been assured a 
 
PEIVATE SECEETAEY 59 
 
 salary of £150 a year as editor of the Observer. 
 But Peter's habit, already alluded to, of changing 
 the subject when I called for my weekly wage, had 
 a serious tendency towards heaping up arrears. 
 When the bankruptcy bolt fell, Peter was my 
 debtor for many weeks' salary. 
 
 I was not long in discovering that France's 
 urgent and imperative need for a private secretary 
 was the growth of the moment and was practically 
 imaginative. He had a large staff of clerks, both 
 in London and Shrewsbury, and though he some- 
 times amused himself and gratified me by dictating 
 a few business letters, my post was a sinecure. 
 Occasionally he took it out of me by reciting long 
 passages from Walter Scott. "The Lay of the 
 Last Minstrel " was his idea of the embodiment 
 of the highest form of poetry. It was not mine ; 
 but he was so good and kind, and it gave him 
 such pleasure to stream off whole cantos, that I 
 listened with becoming interest. He used to like 
 me to look in at the Hall late at night after the 
 last post had gone, and we talked about books. 
 He smoked a pipe, I a cigarette, and am afraid 
 drank claret with it. I often stayed with him tUl 
 two o'clock in the morning, I suppose, with the 
 increasing pressure of his vast business upon his 
 mind, he found recreation in this sort of thing. 
 
 As France was frequently in London, leaving 
 me in Shrewsbury, where I had not even the 
 pretence of doing anything for my salary, I sug- 
 gested that I should go into the office and do 
 
60 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 some of the clerks' work endeared to me in hide 
 and valonia days. He laughed, assented, and gave 
 me a desk in his private office, where I was under- 
 stood vaguely to " check accounts." Practically 
 I was master of my own time. I used it to 
 strengthen and widen the foundations of a very 
 useful business. Even while slaving on the 
 Observer I kept up my connection with the daUy 
 papers in London and the large towns in the 
 Midlands and North of England. 
 
 At this time Shrewsbury happened to be the 
 cynosure of public eyes, owing to the escapade of 
 a young man who for a while enjoyed world-wide 
 fame under the name of John Morgan. Serving 
 time in Swansea gaol, on being released he made 
 his leisurely way northward. Arrived at Shrews- 
 bury, it occurred to him to represent himself as 
 a detective from Cardiff with a warrant for the 
 apprehension of a certain Mr. Ashworth. Visiting 
 the Kaven Hotel, where the best company was 
 likely to be found, the Cardiff detective had the 
 good fortune to find his man. Being arrested, 
 Mr. Ashworth loudly protested he was not the 
 person wanted by the Cardiff police, but was the 
 son of a well-known magistrate in Manchester. 
 John Morgan smUed. He had heard that kind 
 of thing before. The landlord shook his head, and 
 the young gentleman was taken down to the police 
 office. 
 
 John Morgan so arranged the time of his visit 
 to the hotel that the borough magistrates were 
 
PEIVATB SECEETAEY 61 
 
 sitting. Before them tlie prisoner was haled, still 
 protesting that he was Mr. Ashworth of Man- 
 chester. The experienced Cardiff detective smiled 
 again. The sapient magistrates on the bench 
 almost winked in response, to his knowing look, 
 and in accordance with his demand the prisoner 
 was remanded till the next day. 
 
 John Morgan took charge of the prisoner's 
 keys, and, in the ordinary run of his duty, returned 
 to the hotel, carefully examined his portmanteau, 
 and, packing up everything valuable and portable, 
 left town by the next train. An hour later came 
 telegrams from Manchester establishing the identity 
 of Mr. Ashworth, who was forthwith released. 
 
 I was in the police court when John Morgan 
 brought his victim in, and witnessed the whole 
 proceedings. When the denouement arrived I put 
 the story into a paragraph, and sent it to as many 
 of the morning papers as trains would reach that 
 night. I had all the field to myself, since there was 
 then neither Press Association nor Central News. 
 The telegraphs were still a private monopoly, little 
 used for country news. I had a book of " flimsy," 
 and with this succeeded in communicating with 
 a dozen or more papers. The paragraph duly 
 appeared, and the country rang with laughter. 
 John Morgan became the hero of the day, and 
 every line or scrap about him was eagerly printed. 
 I did my best to satisfy public appetite, and not 
 only made what was to me a small fortune in 
 ready money, but established a footing with the 
 
62 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 daily Press throughout the country that made me 
 independent of anything else. 
 
 This was the more fortunate as the end of my 
 friend France's gallop was close at hand. It was 
 vaguely understood in Shrewsbury that the state 
 of the money market precipitated catastrophe. 
 However it came about, the still unfinished works 
 of his railway were abandoned. The curtain fell 
 over the busy scene in his colossal workshops at 
 Abbeygate. Bills were put up in the windows 
 at the Hall, France withdrew to a little freehold 
 estate he managed to retain in the Montgomery- 
 shire hills. Shrewsbury began to agree that, after 
 all, he was not such a clever fellow as it had 
 thought him, and that some of the townspeople 
 would have done weU not to pay him obsequious 
 court. Out of the wreck of his fortune he further 
 saved a plot of land that yielded rock and lime. 
 This he managed himself and lived pretty com- 
 fortably. In later years he came to live in 
 London, and the friendship begun under circum- 
 stances so honourable to him was preserved to the 
 last. 
 
VII 
 
 PENNY A LINER 
 
 When my salary — I cannot say my duties — as 
 France's private secretary ceased, I was once more 
 adrift. As heretofore temporary disaster led me to 
 discover and improve upon opportunity for better- 
 ing my position. I was the recognised Shrewsbury 
 correspondent of all the principal daily papers far 
 and near, and Shrewsbury began to assume a 
 frequency in the news columns of the daily papers 
 which the ancient town probably regarded with 
 mixed feelings. The scope was naturally limited. 
 In giving birth to the John Morgan episode, 
 Shrewsbury seemed to have exhausted its possi- 
 bilities. The only thing to do was to go further 
 afield. Accordingly, I enlarged my borders till I 
 appropriated as my district not only the whole 
 of Shropshire, but Herefordshire, Worcestershire, 
 Montgomeryshire, and North Wales. 
 
 Governor Eyre's trial in connection with the 
 Jamaica riots, the preliminaries of which for- 
 tuitously took place before a bench of Shrop- 
 shire magistrates, was an opportunity of which I 
 made the most. Hardinge Giffard, afterwards Sir 
 
 63 
 
64 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Hardinge, later Lord Halsbury, Lord Higli Chan- 
 cellor, was tlie leading counsel for the defence. 
 He greatly impressed my inexperienced mind by 
 passing from an outbreak of eloquence to a burst 
 of tears as he defended his client. At this day 
 it is curious *to think that the great daily papers, 
 including those of London, should have left the 
 reporting of a case like this to a local corre- 
 spondent. They did, and I reaped a golden harvest 
 out of their confidence. In this case I tried at 
 higher game than ordinary reporting. Deeply 
 impressed with the surroundings of the case, the 
 local colouring of the quiet Shropshire magistrate's 
 court, above all with Hardinge Giffard bubbling 
 into tears, I wrote a description of the scene and 
 sent it to the Daily News, in addition to my 
 ordinary report taken in common by other papers. 
 Special correspondence of the kind which came in 
 with a rush after the Franco-German war was then 
 unknown. My article, which appeared next day 
 in large type, was quite a novel feature, I sharing 
 the feeling of novelty by receiving a cheque for 
 four guineas. I thought this must be a mistake, 
 or at least intended to cover my ordinary reporting 
 account. That was remitted in full in due time. 
 
 Colliery explosions, railway accidents, murders, 
 and trials for murder were carefully attended to. 
 It was, when one comes to think of it, rather 
 ghoulish work. Once a report appeared in the 
 Times of an outbreak of cholera in a little town 
 on the borders of Cheshire. There was question 
 
PENNY A LINBE 65 
 
 whether it really was cholera, and to what extent 
 it prevailed. Going over to inquire, I made the ac- 
 quaintance of a rosy-cheeked doctor, who obligingly 
 took me round in his gig to see all the worst cases. 
 It was at best a poverty-stricken town, with the 
 very streets falling away from it, threatened with 
 submersion in the salt-mine over which it was built. 
 Now, with cholera stealthily passing up and down 
 its thoroughfares, lurking in its back-yards, it was 
 unspeakably gruesome. The only bright thing in 
 it was the rosy-cheeked doctor who went bustling 
 in and out of the houses, as if there was nothing 
 worse going on than measles. 
 
 In the quarter we visited there were no 
 knockers to knock, nor bells to ring. You lifted 
 the latch and walked in, generally on to the 
 stone floor of the kitchen. I remember, as well 
 as if it were yesterday, following the doctor into 
 one of these kitchens and finding an old woman 
 lying back in a big beehive-shaped cane chair, 
 set by an almost empty firegrate. She was all 
 alone. The neighbours, she querulously complained, 
 knew she " was bad," and would not come near her. 
 
 " Yes, she's bad enough," said the doctor when 
 we left. " She'll be dead in two hours. Did you 
 notice her face was growing blue ? " 
 
 When I got back to Shrewsbury I did not 
 mention to any one that I had been investigating 
 cases of cholera. It was a foolish, even a wrong, 
 thing to do. But I was young and enthusiastic 
 when I commenced journalism. 
 
66 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 I dwelt in Shrewsbury for five years, on the 
 whole a bright and happy life. I knew everybody, 
 everybody knew me, and most people were uncom- 
 monly kind. It came to pass years after that I 
 used to receive letters and Christmas cards from 
 people in Shrewsbury whose names I had forgotten, 
 who talked of times when I lived there. I had 
 a pretty house and garden, agreeable work, some- 
 times highly paid. In the third or fourth year 
 I did not earn less than £300 a year, was subject 
 to no man's rule, dependent on no man's favour, 
 master of my own time. As far as I knew the 
 provincial Press, mine was the most enviable 
 position on it. But the lights of London fasci- 
 nated me. 
 
 I remember the first time I went to London, 
 bent on assisting at the deliberation of Peter's 
 creditors. Night had fallen when the train ap- 
 proached the Metropolis. As we neared the City 
 I leaned out of the window and had a good look 
 at its far-spreading sheet of twinkling lights. It 
 seemed a familiar friend to me. I had no more 
 doubt that some day I would live there a renowned 
 journalist, than if I had already rooms and an 
 established position on the stafi" of a leading paper. 
 
 It was all very well to pass a life of comparative 
 leisure, even of luxury. It did not satisfy me. 
 Gradually I arrived at a conclusion which, when 
 formed, seemed the most natural thing in the 
 world. I resolved to give up my connection with 
 the daily Press, my snug £300 a year, which 
 
PENNY A LINEE 67 
 
 I had built up out of nothing, my comfortable 
 home, my circle of friends, and go out into the 
 world to seek a new fortune. I fancy I had in 
 my mind Oliver Goldsmith's trip across the 
 Continent, fluting for his daily bread, seeing men 
 and things. Wherever the idea came from, my 
 fixed intention was to spend three or four years 
 on the Continent, giving at least a year each to 
 France, Germany, and Italy, acquiring a know- 
 ledge of the languages, studying the people, 
 their customs and their history. As I always 
 meant to gain an exceptionally high position in 
 journalism, nothing less than this foundation would 
 satisfy me. 
 
 Of course, it meant considerable expenditure of 
 money, and I had not much. Besides, there were 
 others dependent upon me. My father had not 
 yet found a market for his process of preserving 
 cut flowers, and things so turned out that I was 
 the mainstay of the home circle. Whatever hap- 
 pened to me, that weekly contribution must, as 
 long as I lived, be set aside. I had saved about 
 £200. My furniture I estimated, correctly as it 
 turned out, would bring over £100, and when my 
 capital was all gone I would have to look out for 
 means of earning more. Anyhow, I was deter- 
 mined to go, and in the early spring of 1869 I 
 bade farewell to Shrewsbury. Before I left I 
 apportioned my engagements amongst my col- 
 leagues on the local Press, securing for each man 
 the correspondence of a certain number of papers. 
 
68 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 It did not seem to do them much good. The 
 £300 a year melted like snow on the river. When 
 a year later I had opportunity of inquiring how 
 much money was drawn into Shrewsbury from 
 this source, I found it did not reach an aggregate 
 of £20 per annum. 
 
VIII 
 
 A STRUGGLING JOURNALIST 
 
 When I bade farewell to Shrewsbury and fared 
 forth in search of fortune, I did not dream that 
 later I should return to the dear old town, the 
 honoured guest of the sitting member, to be enter- 
 tained at dinner by the mayor, who bade to the 
 feast the headmaster of the famous school and the 
 principal citizens. The quittance was equivalent 
 to burning my boats. In the world beyond the 
 ancient walls of Shrewsbury I had no friends, few 
 acquaintances, no visible opening. 
 
 Meanwhile, I had been invited by Walter Wood 
 of the Standard to stay at his house in London 
 for a short while before my hegira. He lived in 
 the neighbourhood of Hammersmith. I arrived at 
 Euston Station and spent an appreciable portion of 
 an afternoon in a four-wheeler driving towards the 
 setting sun. Often as I pass by Hyde Park 
 Terrace I can see the old growler stumbling along 
 with a pale-faced youth inside, and on the roof, in 
 portmanteau, box, and bundle, all his worldly 
 goods. Still acuter is the recollection of the dis- 
 mayed face of my hostess peering through the 
 
 69 
 
70 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 parlour window upon this array of luggage that 
 seemed to portend at least a month's visit. On 
 closer intimacy I gathered that Walter, one of the 
 kindest-hearted men in the world, was accustomed 
 to make chance acquaintances, bringing them home 
 to dine and sleep. His harried wife speedily got 
 over her natural apprehension, and it was at her 
 entreaty that I more than once deferred my 
 departure for the Continent. 
 
 Even in those early days the height of my 
 ambition was to obtain an engagement in the 
 Parliamentary Press Gallery. That might come 
 by-and-by. Meanwhile, I yearned for opportunity 
 of lookiag on the House from behind the Speaker's 
 chair. Walter Wood, whom no difficulties cowed, 
 said he would see what could be done. In those 
 days the adventure was far more difficult than in 
 existing circumstances. The country Press was 
 not represented save vicariously in the form of a 
 rare London correspondent, who wrote a weekly 
 letter for some phenomenally enterprising paper. 
 The aggregate of the London staffs was far smaller 
 than at present, and was, it struck me at the time, 
 composed almost exclusively of elderly gentlemen. 
 The chances of detection of an unauthorised 
 stranger (being moreover a beardless youth) were 
 accordingly increased. 
 
 One night Walter Wood took me down to the 
 Gallery and endeavoured to induce more than one 
 of the old stagers to pilot me in. They stared 
 aghast at the proposal, and walked hurriedly away. 
 
A STEUGGLING JOUENALIST 71 
 
 We were permitted to stand at the glass door 
 giving entrance to the Gallery and peer upon the 
 House, which was nearly empty. The door swung 
 easily to and fro as the men passed in and out, 
 taking their turn in the box. The temptation 
 proved irresistible. 
 
 " I think I'll go in," I said. 
 
 " Very well," dear old Walter hoarsely whis- 
 pered. " Turn to the right, sit down on a back 
 bench, and I dare say no one wUl notice you." 
 
 At the corner of the bench, presumably 
 guarding the doorway, sat a portly gentleman in 
 evening dress, with a gold badge slung across his 
 abundant shirt-front. He was fast asleep, and I 
 passed along the bench, sitting down midway. At 
 that time there were no desks in front of these 
 back benches, which were tenantless. I suppose 
 my heart beat tumultuously, but I sat there with 
 apparent composure. At length I had reached the 
 House of Commons, and eagerly gazed upon it, 
 feeling like some watcher of the skies when a new 
 planet swims into his ken, 
 
 " Or like stout Cortez when, with eagle eyes, 
 He stared at the Pacific." 
 
 I do not know how long I sat there. Probably 
 not five minutes, certainly long enough to be 
 struck with the smaUness of the chamber, the 
 commonplace appearance of the personages forming 
 the historic assembly, and the perfect manner in 
 
72 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 which they dissembled their interest in current 
 proceedings. Then I became conscious of a move- 
 ment in the sunken boxes before me, where the 
 reporters taking notes sat. Heads were turned, 
 whispered consultations took place. Some one 
 woke up the {)ortly gentleman whom through many 
 years later I knew as Steel, the chief janitor of the 
 Press Gallery. 
 
 In days then far off he became possessor of 
 a cottage and garden in Kent, whither, wearied 
 with legislative labours, he retired from Satur- 
 day to Monday. In summer time he brought 
 me on Monday afternoons two or three roses, 
 which he put in my hand with an awkward sort 
 of flap, as if they were a slice of bacon he was 
 depositing . on a counter. That was his way of 
 intimating that it was of no consequence. He 
 noticed that I always comforted myself through 
 long debates and aU-night sittings with a handful 
 of flowers, set in a little glass on my desk, which 
 was generally upset in the course of the evening 
 by some unsympathetic reporter borrowing my box 
 during temporary absence, and clumsily turning 
 round in the circumscribed space. 
 
 It was no flowers that Steel now brought me, 
 but stern peremptory command to " get out." He 
 was unusually irate, first at having been wakened 
 out of his sleep, secondly at having in unique 
 circumstances been caught napping at the post of 
 duty. I went forth disconsolate, and there was a 
 great hubbub in the dark little room outside. My 
 
A STEUGGLING JOUENALIST 73 
 
 friend and co -conspirator fled in afifright when he 
 saw me actually enter the Gallery. Now he 
 dropped in, in a casual way, standing at the edge 
 of the crowd, whilst Steel took down my name 
 and address, and told me I should " hear from the 
 Serjeant-at-Arms." 
 
 I do not know whether that potentate ever 
 knew of the incident. I fancy Steel, recognising 
 his own somewhat imperilled position, was not 
 anxious to pursue the matter. Anyhow, I never 
 heard from the Serjeant-at-Arms. Walter Wood 
 and I agreed, as a matter of precaution, that I had 
 better hasten my departure for Paris, and two days 
 later the English Channel rolled between me and 
 the Clock Tower. 
 
 I hoped to be able to eke out my living in 
 Paris by doing some writing for the London Press. 
 Expectation centred chiefly on the Daily News, 
 which freely accepted my copy sent from Shrews- 
 bury. I called at Bouverie Street and sent in my 
 card to my frequent correspondent, .the manager. 
 J. E. Eobinson was his name, and our early inter- 
 course threatened to close in storm. His hand- 
 writing was execrable, his signature after prolonged 
 study suggesting divers readings. In communi- 
 cating with him I timidly.tried these in succession, 
 and at the end of a fortnight, the pot of patience 
 bubbling over, I received a letter with the sig- 
 nature "J. E. Eobinson" written in approach to 
 the style of printed letters. 
 
 When I was admitted to the manager's room 
 
74 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 I found the great man behind a pair of spectacles, 
 intent on writing. On a chair drawn up by the 
 fire was the copy of an evening paper, I had at 
 the moment a shrewd suspicion, confirmed by sub- 
 sequent knowledge of Kobinson's custom of an 
 afternoon, tHat when I knocked at the door he was 
 seated by the fire cosily engaged with the paper. 
 Dreading to be bored with a long interview by an 
 importunate visitor, he, iu order to cut it short, 
 hurriedly returned to his desk and assumed an 
 attitude of absorbing engagement. Nothing came 
 of the afternoon call. Kobiuson said the usual 
 things about having a staff correspondent in Paris, 
 and dismissed me as speedUy as possible. 
 
 I met with a more friendly reception in another 
 quarter, where I had less claim. Mr. DjTmond, 
 manager of the Morning Star then stiU shining, 
 received me in kindliest manner, giving me a per- 
 sonal introduction to Mr. North Peat, the Starts 
 Paris correspondent, which proved most valuable. 
 I took with me the address of a quiet little hotel 
 in Paris, and drove thither on my arrival after a 
 terrible crossing. There were few passengers who 
 braved the storm. I recoUect one on account of 
 his remarkable prevision. He was a stout French- 
 man with a paUid face that grew greener and 
 greener in hue as the cliffs of Dover faded in 
 the misty distance. As soon as he came aboard 
 in Dover Harbour he selected a seat on the bench 
 amidship, produced a serviette of the proportions 
 of a mainsail, tied it round his neck, ordered the 
 
A STEUGGLING JOURNALIST 75 
 
 steward to bring him a basin, and sat expectant. 
 He had done his best. The rest was in the hands 
 of Providence. 
 
 I rather prided myself on my French, in which 
 tongue I -was wont glibly to converse with my 
 teacher in Liverpool. I got along pretty well with 
 the cocher, and through the dinner at the Hotel. 
 Later the hostess, a motherly looking woman, 
 approached me with an unlit candle in her hand 
 and let fly with unfamiliar cadence a torrent of 
 words, of the meaning of which I had not the 
 faintest glimmer. However, I nodded, and said, 
 " Oui, oui, madame ; vous avez raison." Eegarding 
 me with a motherly look, a universal language I 
 understood, she set down the candle and went off. 
 Ten minutes later she was back, and, with in- 
 creased volubility, poured forth another stream. 
 I responded " Oui, oui, madame," with an air of 
 intensified conviction, and she walked off, this 
 time more slowly, looking back several times. In 
 less than ten minutes she was back again, and, 
 still smiling, slowly said, " Il-faut-aller-coucher, 
 n'est ce pas ? " 
 
 I saw it all now. The good woman, sure I 
 must be tired after a long and stormy journey, 
 thought I was better in bed. Thither I retired, 
 despondent at the prospect of daily meeting 
 people conducting ordinary conversation at racing 
 speed. 
 
 North Peat and his wife welcomed me with a 
 kindness equal to that of his chief in London. 
 
76 SIXTX YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 He personally undertook to arrange for my settle- 
 ment in apartments suitable to tlie shallowness 
 of my purse. They were found on the top 
 storey of an old-fashioned hotel in the neigh- 
 bourhood of the Church of St. Sulpice. It was 
 built round a. courtyard, and was much resorted to 
 by country clergy coming up for brief visits to the 
 capital. There was a restaurant on the ground 
 floor into which I, with watering lips, frequently 
 saw carried enticing dishes of deliciously puffed 
 fried potatoes such as my soul loved. But the 
 restaurant with its prices — ^at least two francs for a 
 dinner — was not for me. 
 
 Wandering about the neighbourhood, I came 
 upon a little estaminet close by the big drapery 
 establishment Bon Marche, and there regularly 
 took my meals during my pilgrimage in Paris. 
 They were not satiating, nor were they criminally 
 expensive. For what we English call breakfast I 
 had a small basin of chocolate and a roll, which in 
 English money totted up to 2^. Noon was the 
 hour for the Frenchman's favourite meal, the 
 dejeuner a la fourchette. Mine usually consisted 
 of a cutlet or steak, bread and cheese, and a bock 
 of German beer. This ran me into as much as Qd. 
 Dinner, taken about half-past six, cost from IQd. 
 to Is. Supper cost nothing, as I did not have 
 any, though I confess, had I been urgently pressed, 
 I would, rather than offend the sensibilities of a 
 friend, have shared his hospitality. 
 
 On the average I lived — to be precise, existed 
 
A STEUGGLING JGUENALIST 77 
 
 — on 2s. a day, an achievement impossible, I 
 fancy, even in the Quartier Latin under the 
 Kepublic. 
 
 At the time of which I write, the last full 
 year of the Third Empire, there were abundance 
 of well set-up restaurants where were served 
 dinners at the prix fixe, one franc fifty, every 
 dish perfectly cooked, savoured by the hand of 
 genius. I never treated myself seul to one of 
 these banquets. Occasionally, in expansive mood, 
 I entertained friends whose acquaintance I made 
 in the estaminet. 
 
 This hostelry, type of a congeries that flourished 
 with the Third Empire, was kept by a couple whom 
 we knew as Pfere et Madame Camie, He was a 
 short gentleman, the sign of a succession of good 
 meals being hung out in a tendency to embonpoint. 
 He wore a little black skull-cap and a closely cut 
 fierce-looking moustache. As far as I observed, 
 he never did a stroke of work. Save in the direst 
 cold weather, he lounged about in his shirt-sleeves 
 turned up to the elbow in token that, if any really 
 hard labour came his way, here was the man to 
 grapple with it. The mainstay of the establish- 
 ment was Madame. She did most of the cooking, 
 conducted in a kitchen at the back of the dining- 
 room, and somehow always managed to be at the 
 receipt of custom when a customer, having finished 
 his meal, prepared to pass out. 
 
 That old campaigner Pere Camie had his own 
 way of increasing the revenues. If times were 
 
78 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 dull, he would sit at one of the tables and suggest a 
 game at Imperial. The stakes were consummation, 
 in the form of liqueur, cafenoir, or small packets of 
 national tobacco known as " Caporal," much in 
 favour with smokers of cigarettes. It was all 
 very well wten Pfere Camie was on the winning 
 side. He not only got his tasse free, but payment 
 for four was dropped into the till. It was different 
 when luck deserted him, and he had to pay not 
 only for his own refreshment, but for another's. 
 His effort in these circumstances to preserve a 
 jovial air so that Madame from her high chair at 
 the counter should not guess how things were 
 going, was ghastly in its effect. 
 
 A number of telegraph clerks to whose circle 
 I was in due time honoured by admission, were 
 regular customers, a special table being reserved 
 for their use. It was with them Pfere Camie played 
 with varying luck. One, bewrayed by his thick 
 accent, came from the sunny South. Though he 
 drew his weekly pay from a Government office, he 
 did not think much of ministers, whether of State 
 or serving the holy Catholic Church. His political 
 and religious creed was summed up in the oft- 
 repeated assertion, Tous les Twmmes sont cham- 
 pignons. In moody moments, following on a run 
 of bad luck with Pfere Camie, he expounded this 
 text as meaning that, since we seated at the table 
 casually grew up as mushrooms do, and would 
 presently like them be plucked up, nothing very 
 much mattered. 
 
A STEUGGLING JOUENALIST 79 
 
 One of the company was on account of extreme 
 leanness known to his colleagues as Le Maigre. He 
 justified Caesar's preference, expressed to the dis- 
 paragement of Cassius, for men that are fat, such 
 as sleep o' nights. Le Maigre secretly brought 
 sorrow and shame into the homely circle. The sole 
 waitress was Adfele, a quiet-looking girl understood 
 to be the niece of Madame. One morning Le Maigre, 
 most punctual at meal times, did not turn up for 
 dejeuner. It was also noted that Adele, much in 
 evidence at this time of day, was absent. Soon 
 the sad story circulated. Le Maigre had carried 
 off the girl, not to honourable marriage, and the 
 estaminet saw their faces no more. 
 
 My particular friend was Auge, a man of 
 culture far exceeding his fellows. I had a tutor, 
 understood to be a Polish count in exile, who came 
 twice a week to give me lessons in French. I 
 learned much more from my companionship with 
 Auge, whose Parisian accent contrasted pleasantly 
 with that of the Gascon iconoclast. We sat 
 together at meals, walked about in the evenings, 
 he ever on the watch to correct my accent or 
 explain an idiom. 
 
 I lived in Paris from May to December, friend- 
 less and alone save for the circle gathered round 
 Pfere Camie's bristling moustache and super- 
 humanly wise-looking countenance. Once or twice 
 I dined with the North Peats, occasions memorable 
 by reason of opportunity of having enough to eat 
 at a single meal. Walking about the streets. 
 
80 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 riding on 'buses, junketing up and down the river in 
 steamboats, I was profoundly struck by the unrest 
 among the people, their intense hatred of Emperor 
 and Empress. One day I caught a glimpse of 
 Rochefort, carried aloft on the shoulders of a mob 
 of students thronging the boulevard Saint-Michel, 
 I never saw a man looking so helplessly frightened 
 as did the founder of the Lanteme then in its 
 prime. Whether he feared the police or a fall, I 
 do not know. His terror was abject. 
 
 In the summer the Emperor paid a visit to 
 Beauvais. On the chance of getting material 
 for an article acceptable in London, I journeyed 
 thither with North Peat, who went down as re- 
 presentative of the Morning Star. The Prince 
 Imperial accompanied the Emperor, who drove 
 through living lanes of people stretching from the 
 roadway to the open windows of the topmost 
 chamber. They came to see, but they would not 
 remain to cheer. The occasion was the presenta- 
 tion of prizes gained at the local Lycee. The 
 head prize was never delivered, the winner, a lad 
 of fourteen, declining to accept it from the hand 
 of the hated Emperor. 
 
 One evening in the autumn of this year (1869) 
 a riot broke out in the streets of Paris, and the 
 cavalry recklessly rode into a crowd wherever it 
 gathered- The last time I saw Napoleon III, in 
 his own capital was on a beautiful evening towards 
 the end of September. He was walking along the 
 terrace flanking the river, deep in conversation with 
 
A STEUGGLING JOUENALIST 81 
 
 a companion. It struck me that he presented 
 an easy target for the countless pistols reported 
 to be viciously fingered. He was spared for 
 Sedan, and a year later, "unable to die at the 
 head of my army," returned to his ancient exile 
 in England. 
 
IX 
 
 STILL STRUGGLING 
 
 I QUITTED Paris on the approach, of Christmas 
 Eve, 1869, having acquired the French language 
 and some knowledge of the French people. My 
 home visit was designed as a Christmas jaunt, I 
 intending to return to my old quarters in the 
 Quartier Latin. The Fates decreed otherwise. 
 In January, 1870, Mr. George Smith, of Smith, 
 Elder and Co., encouraged by the success attendant 
 on his evening paper, the Pall Mall Gazette, and 
 cheered by the collaboration of Frederick Green- 
 wood, a memorable master in journalism, resolved 
 to adventure a morning edition. The evening 
 Pall Mall had been on the multitudinous list of 
 papers for which I wrote news paragraphs from 
 Shrewsbury. The assistant-editor of the new 
 morning edition was Mr. Fyfe, formerly an 
 esteemed member of the Tivms staff. My friend 
 and my first patron, Edward Eussell, of Liverpool, 
 learning that I was anxious ta obtain a position 
 on the staff of the new paper, wrote him a letter 
 of strong recommendation. Walter Wood also had 
 
 a personal interview with Fyfe, demonstrating 
 
 82 
 
STILL STRUGGLING 83 
 
 to him that the success of the new paper was 
 assured if they were so fortunate as to secure my 
 services. Between the two the affair was clenched. 
 I was straightway appointed to the sub-editorial 
 staff at what to me, fresh from frugal fare in Paris, 
 was the magnificent salary of four guineas a week. 
 The aim George Smith and Greenwood set 
 before them was to provide at the price of 2d. 
 a paper which, less bulky than the Times, 
 should even excel its journalistic and literary 
 excellence. To that end the parliamentary sum- 
 mary, undertaken by Fyfe, was made a special 
 feature, standing first on the leader page. Going 
 down to the ofiice one evening, I found my col- 
 leagues in a state of consternation. Fyfe had in 
 the course of the morning been taken ill, and it 
 was impossible for him to attend the Press Gallery. 
 Greenwood sent for me and asked me to take 
 his place for that night only. To-morrow, other 
 arrangements would be made. To go down to 
 the House of Commons and take an ordinary 
 " turn " of reporting for the first time is, I sup- 
 pose, a trying thing. To be bundled off at an 
 hour's notice to fill the place of one of the most 
 eminent parliamentary writers of the day, and to 
 supply a leading article on a subject of the sur- 
 roundings of which one was absolutely ignorant, 
 might seem appalling. It came quite naturally 
 to me. I did my best in the strange, somewhat 
 bewildering, circumstances, and as long as the 
 morning edition of the Pall Mall lasted I continued 
 
84 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENBSS 
 
 to write its summary. Fyfe came round again in 
 a week ; but he nevermore took up the summary, 
 leaving it in my hands, with many words of 
 kind encouragement. 
 
 Here was the sun shining with full radiance. 
 Not only was my foot on the ladder. In less 
 than two months I had gone up a dozen steps to 
 the position of parliamentary summary writer 
 under the most exigeant of London editors. 
 Alack ! the ladder broke down, and, like Alnaschar, 
 I woke from my pleasing dream to find my 
 possessions shattered. One day, towards the end of 
 May, a month others were proverbially disposed to 
 Tegard as merry, I found awaiting me at the Press 
 Gallery a note in the neat handwriting of George 
 Smith, familiar to me in quite diflferent circum- 
 stances in the closing years of his honoured life. 
 It briefly stated that the morning edition of the 
 Pall Mall would be discontinued from the 
 Saturday following, and that my services would be 
 no longer required. 
 
 This was a crusher ; but I have always found 
 a silver lining to every cloud. It happened 
 at this juncture that the editor of the Globe 
 had been consulted by the proprietor of the 
 Exeter Gazette with the object of engaging an 
 assistant editor. He communicated with me and 
 suggested I should apply for the post. The salary 
 was £200 a year. The position involved exile 
 from London, but I had nothing else in prospect, 
 and, having tasted blood in the pleasant form of a 
 
STILL STEUGGLING 85 
 
 salary of four guineas a week, was not disposed to 
 go back to Paris and penury. 
 
 A letter from the principal sub-editor of tbe 
 evening edition of the Pall Mall Gazette 
 replying to inquiries, resulted in my immediate 
 engagement on the Exeter paper. I went down in 
 June, 1870, and remained at the post till the first 
 week in January, 1872 — eighteen dull depressing 
 months. The Gazette was the organ of the 
 High Church Tory party in a cathedral city. At 
 the date of my arrival on the scene they were 
 distraught by the appointment of Dr. Temple to 
 the bishopric. For the Gazette openly to 
 rebuke, much less to revile a bishop of the Church, 
 was against its ancient traditions. Yet it could 
 not bring itself to pay homage to a contributor to 
 Essays and Reviews whose name was anathema 
 to the elect. The wriggling of my esteemed 
 proprietor in this dilemma was, as far as I re- 
 member, the only source of keen delight that came 
 my way in Exeter. It was a dull place, depression 
 arising out of lack of congenial company being 
 added to by the relaxing temperature in which the 
 city was swathed. The only thing that kept me 
 from falling into a comatose state was that I still 
 kept touch with London, writing Occasional Notes 
 for the Pall Mall and leader notes for the 
 Globe. Often, taking a constitutional walk 
 before luncheon, I looked in at St. David's station, 
 watched the express whirl off to London, and 
 wondered when it would take me. 
 
TALK WITH CHARLES DICKENS 
 
 At the end of eighteen months Exeter and its 
 connections became insupportable, I resigned my 
 post, again burning my boats, as I did at Shrews- 
 bury. I had no promise or prospect of other 
 appointment. I returned to my modest lodgings 
 in Portland Place, and since work would not come 
 to me, I went in search of work. In the course of 
 a month I built up a connection that relieved the 
 immediate future from anxiety. Joynes, sub- 
 editor of the Pall Mall, joyfully welcomed me 
 back to Northumberland Street. There was no 
 regular appointment on the staff available, but 
 there was scarcely a day he did not put something 
 in my way which brought in half a guinea, whiles 
 a whole one. 
 
 This irregular engagement brought me face to 
 face with the most dramatic episode flashing forth 
 even in a London police-court. I sat all through 
 the trial of a solicitor named Chaffers charged with 
 blackmailing Sir Travers Twiss. For two days I 
 was in the presence of the tortured wife in the 
 witness box, heard the relentless, slow-spoken 
 
 86 
 
TALK WITH CHAELBS DICKENS 87 
 
 scoundrel in tlie dock revelling in the relation, 
 artfully introduced by way of cross-examination, 
 of guilty acquaintance with him before her mar- 
 riage. For two days Lady Twiss bore the terrible 
 ordeal, in quiet unfaltering manner denying the 
 odious allegations. On the third day the court 
 sat. Chaffers was in the dock licking his lips in 
 anticipation of further parleying with his prey. 
 Lady Twiss's name was called. There was no 
 response. The close of the second day found her 
 at the end of her tether. She had fled into 
 oblivion, and with an evil smile Chaffers walked 
 out of the dock a free man ; but, as the magistrate 
 frankly told him, " an object of scorn and contempt 
 to his fellow-creatures." 
 
 In addition to reporting leading cases for the 
 news columns of the Pall Mall, I continued to 
 contribute Occasional Notes and improved upon 
 my connection with the editorial columns of the 
 Glohe. I frequently dined out for the Morning 
 Post, who paid a fee of half a guinea for a short 
 paragraph recording a public dinner, an engage- 
 ment which once brought me in touch with Charles 
 Dickens. He was presiding at some City dinner, 
 and the table at which I was placed being almost 
 out of hearing, I made my way nearer when he 
 was about to speak, but could find no vacant seat. 
 Observing my difficulty, probably not forgetful of 
 days when he too went about with notebook and 
 pencil, he with genial smile beckoned me to take 
 a vacant chair almost immediately facing him at 
 
88 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 tbe principal table. There I saw and heard him 
 for the last time. 
 
 In uncanny fashion it was the last time but 
 one. Thereby hangs a curious but true tale. 
 Thirty years ago I sought and found opportunity 
 of testing the genuineness of table-turning, a 
 practice at the time much in vogue. With three 
 other persons, equally honest in search of the 
 truth, we sat down and joined outstretched hands 
 on a small table. 
 
 Presently it began to move, and there followed 
 the customary catechism as to the identity of the 
 spirit who honoured us with his (or her) company. 
 This was tried in succession by my three com- 
 panions, who, reciting the alphabet in accordance 
 with the formula, asked the visitor to " rap once " 
 when a desired letter was reached. 
 
 The table gyrated with great vigour, but the 
 alphabet was, in each case, exhausted without the 
 desired spiritual acquiescence in a particular letter 
 helping to spell a word. My turn coming round, 
 I renewed the effort. When I came to the letter 
 C the rim of the table prodded me in the chest 
 with evidently joyous assent. Similar token was 
 forthcoming when I got to the letter H; and so 
 on until Charles Dickens was spelt out. 
 
 Then followed a quite friendly conversation, in 
 the course of which the great novelist, four years 
 dead, bade me call on his son Charles, at the time 
 editor of Household Words, whom, he assured me, 
 I should find in friendly mood. 
 
TALK WITH CHAELES DICKENS 89 
 
 My companions several times attempted to join 
 in the conversation, but Charles Dickens would 
 have nothing to do with them, severely ignoring 
 their existence. Whenever I spoke the table 
 throbbed with exuberance. 
 
 What puzzled me at the time, as seeming 
 altogether incongruous, was the way my inter- 
 locutor mis-spelled his words. Written down, they 
 were playfully ungrammatical. When, a year or 
 two later, Forster's " Life of Dickens " was pub- 
 lished, I found that in the privacy of communica- 
 tion with his most intimate friend, " Boz " used 
 occasionally to write in that way. For example, 
 inviting Forster to dine with him at Jack Straw's 
 Castle, Hampstead Heath, he wrote : " I knows 
 a good 'ouse where we can have a red-hot chop for 
 dinner and a glass of good wine." 
 
 This is perhaps the most striking point of the 
 episode. Practical persons explain the vagaries of 
 conversation through the medium of table-turning 
 by averring that, unconsciously, the inquirer sup- 
 plies the answer received. As I had at the time 
 never heard of Dickens's humorous disregard for 
 spelling and grammar when writing to Forster, 
 I certainly could not have been responsible for 
 that singular phase of the communications. 
 
 That is the story, told as simply as possible. 
 I was so much struck with the incident that on 
 the next day I found my way down to the office 
 of Household Words, and sent in my card to the 
 editor. My name being absolutely unknown to 
 
90 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 him, as it was to all outside a narrow circle, 1 
 expected my temerity would be properly rewarded 
 by a message that the great man was engaged. 
 On the contrary, I was promptly ushered into the 
 presence of Charles Dickens, jun., who received 
 me in friencJliest fashion, and straightway com- 
 missioned me to write an article for Household 
 Words. 
 
 It was accepted, and I received a prodigiously 
 handsome cheque — the first earned in that field of 
 labour. 
 
 At this time the Echo, pioneer of London half- 
 penny papers, was beginning to make its mark 
 under the editorship of Mr. Arthur Arnold. I 
 adventured a leader note, which was promptly 
 accepted. Others following were received with 
 equal hospitality. Soon I was promoted to the 
 position of occasional leader writer and contributor 
 of special articles. The pay was poor — one guinea 
 for a leader, and the oddly precise sum of four 
 shillings for a leader note. But every little helped. 
 Already, before six months sped, my income from 
 miscellaneous sources equalled that audaciously 
 surrendered on quitting Exeter. 
 
XI 
 
 J JOIlf THE DAILY NEWS 
 
 In the summer of this year (187'2) I heard of a 
 vacancy on the parliamentary staff of the Daily 
 News, owing to the retirement of the Leader. I 
 forthwith called on Kobinson and asked for appoint- 
 ment to the berth that would be opened by re- 
 adjustment of the staff. My reception was less 
 chilly than on the first occasion. He made no 
 promise, but on the following morning I received 
 a telegram summoning me to the office. He gave 
 me instructions to write a preliminary article about 
 the Albert Memorial, just completed, and a second 
 describing the ceremony of its unveiling by the 
 Queen. Both duly appeared. Robinson did not 
 offer any criticism about the workmanship, but he 
 gave me a cheque for six guineas, which I regarded 
 as munificent, and truly it was, compared with the 
 pay from the Echo treasury. More still, he offered 
 me an annual engagement on the paper, a prize 
 richer than the one I had sought, which was 
 sessional, with regular salary for six months in the 
 year only. 
 
 The Albert Memorial is not loved by Londoners. 
 
 91 
 
92 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 There are people of artistic taste who speak slight- 
 ingly of its colours and design. For myself I never 
 pass it without a kindly feeling. As Uncle Pumble- 
 chook used to say, alluding to Mrs. Gargery's rela- 
 tions with Pip, it was the " founder of my fortius," 
 
 Thus was my second visit to Robinson more 
 successful than its predecessor. Tears after I learnt 
 that my first call at the office made a deeper 
 impression on his mind than he indicated at the 
 moment. In 1899 Richard Whiteing (of "No, 5 
 John Street ") resigned his place on the editorial 
 staff of the Daily News, with intent to devote him- 
 self whoUy to literature. We gave him a farewell 
 dinner at which Robinson presided. 
 
 In the course of his speech he said — 
 
 " My friend Lucy has altered very little in the 
 years that have passed since he first came into my 
 room, and surprised me by suggesting that he 
 should reveal to an ignorant world the real con- 
 ditions of modern French society and the changes 
 needed in the European system generally. ... I 
 believe I suggested that we already had experi- 
 enced correspondents in Paris, and that a stay of 
 a few weeks, or even months, was not so startling 
 an advantage as he appeared to believe. Lucy's 
 cheery confidence was unshaken. He looked 
 curiously at me, as though summing me up, and 
 went away, I think, with the understanding that 
 the wonderful chance he had given us would not 
 be altogether unfruitful. . . . Lucy has written 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 93 
 
 many volumes in the Daily News since those days, 
 and is the best known Parliamentarian living. My 
 only complaint is that we do not get enough of 
 him. He is so good that 1 want him alL I don't 
 quite like the literary ' sprinkling ' to which 
 successful men nowadays sometimes lend them- 
 selves. But no doubt the temptation — a shining 
 one — is irresistible." 
 
 My engagement with the Daily News dated 
 from October 1st, 1872. In the meanwhile I 
 remained a free lance. Eobinson was liberal in his 
 commissions for special articles. A notable one 
 led to my accompanying the English Koman 
 Catholics who made a pilgrimage to Paray le 
 Monial. On the railway journey through France 
 I made the acquaintance of Monsignor Capel, the 
 " Catesby " of Disraeli's " Lothair." This led to a 
 friendship maintained till the handsome Monsignor, 
 idol of London society, a persuasive recruiting 
 sergeant for the Army of the Church of Eome, 
 suddenly left the country and was next heard of 
 located in California. A vivid recollection of the 
 pUgrimage is the spectacle of the 15th Duke of 
 Norfolk in the procession through the streets of 
 Paray le Monial to the sacred cave, staggering 
 under the weight of a voluminous banner. 
 
 In connection with this expedition, I was 
 agreeably surprised to receive a letter from Mr. 
 Smalley, then London correspondent of the New 
 York Tribune, asking me to write some account of 
 
94 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 the aflfair for his paper. It was rather a rush, 
 with little time for quiet writing. The railway 
 journey was long, and I utilised it homeward 
 bound by writing two special letters for the 
 Tribune. This was the commencement of a 
 pleasant connection with that journal, lasting 
 through many years. When Smalley went on his 
 annual holiday, which extended over a month or 
 six weeks, I, at his request, lightly added the 
 weight of his work to the burden of my own, at 
 the time excessive. It meant the writing of two 
 letters a week, with a cable message a column in 
 length despatched on Saturday. 
 
 During the Home Eule campaign of 1886 my 
 connection with the Tribune became closer. 
 Smalley, formerly an ardent admirer of Gladstone 
 and all his works, like tens of thousands of others, 
 turned upon him when he raised the Home Kule 
 flag and would have rent him. It happened at 
 this time that the name of Mr. Whitelaw Keid, 
 proprietor of the paper, was mentioned in con- 
 nection with the Vice-Presidency of the United 
 States. With the Irish vote a potent factor, it 
 would never do to have the London Letter, whether 
 by cable or post, tri- weekly denouncing Home Kule. 
 SmaUey accordingly temporarily retired, and for 
 something like three months I filled his place. 
 
 Beyond this honourable and lucrative pro- 
 fessional connection, I trace back to the Paray le 
 Monial pilgrimage the incidental consequence of 
 enjoying the personal friendship of Mr. Whitelaw 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 95 
 
 Reid, to-day Ambassador from the United States at 
 the Court of St, James's. When I saw him first 
 he was acting editor and actual proprietor of the 
 great newspaper founded by Horace Greely. My 
 wife and I had reached New York, first stage 
 on a journey round the world. I called at the 
 office, meeting with a hearty reception, closely 
 followed by an invitation to spend some days with 
 Mrs. Eeid and himself at Far Eockaway, the 
 musically named seaside place where his country 
 house was then situated. Circumstances pre- 
 vented our accepting the invitation. But I was, 
 with Lord Rosebery and Sir William Hardman, 
 editor of the Morning Post, a guest at a 
 dinner given by Mr. Reid at the Union Club to 
 the English travellers. I happened to sit next 
 to Mr. Evarts, and had a delightful time. He 
 whispered to me the information that, with the 
 exception of himself, every American at the table 
 either had been a candidate for the Presidency, or 
 contemplated candidature. One of them (Grover 
 Cleveland) not only became a candidate but was, 
 within a year of the feast, elected President. 
 
 Early in 1900 I proposed to renew my connec- 
 tion with the Tribune by writing an occasional letter. 
 Mr. Reid replied — 
 
 "451, Madison Avenue, 
 
 Feb. 21st, 1900. 
 
 " Dear Me. Lucy : — It would be a pleasure to 
 accept unreservedly the proposal in your note of 
 Jan, 30th. As you know we have always valued 
 
96 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 your work when we have had the good fortune 
 to have it ; and I fully appreciate your sources of 
 information, as well as the sunny tempered and 
 broad minded way in which you utilise them. 
 But, at present, we are rather more than usually 
 under the constant struggle to get in even the best 
 of the news, which we have already provided and 
 paid for. Your war in Africa and ours in the 
 Philippines, our own Presidential campaign, which 
 is opening, and the sessions of our Congress and the 
 State Legislatures, load the ship to the water's edge. 
 " While our Staff London correspondent is so 
 engrossed with the war news, I should really be 
 glad, if I could see a chance, to crowd in an oc- 
 casional letter from you on some topic of special 
 interest at the moment. I have already given 
 orders to do this with reference to your letter about 
 Eedmond and Irish renascence ; and we should try 
 to do the same thing perhaps once a month, or 
 a little oftener, if you should see the occasion 
 during the time while Ford is so pressed. I am 
 afraid this is an inhospitable response to your 
 valued offer ; but you know the newspaper 
 business so well that you wUl see the situation 
 as clearly as I do. I give you hearty congratu- 
 lations on the changed aspect of the war. It is an 
 immense relief to us as well as to you. With 
 cordial regards to Mrs. Lucy, in which Mrs. Reid 
 desires to join, 
 
 " I am, Yours sincerely, 
 
 "J. Whitelaw ReidJ' 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 97 
 
 When I joined the Daily News, the paper, after 
 long and costly struggles, was floating on the tide 
 of prosperity. Under Eobinson's bold, well-guided 
 direction and his happy discovery of Archibald 
 Forbes and other War Correspondents, it had 
 beaten all competitors as the Chronicler of the 
 Franco-German War. Not inclined to rest on his 
 oars, Eobinson turned his special correspondents 
 on home tracks. Forbes made a fresh hit by his 
 letters from Ireland in the disturbed period that 
 added the word " boycott " to the English 
 language. More permanent and important was 
 the assistance the Daily News by his pen gave 
 to the emancipation of the Agricultural Labourer 
 from the thraldom of a custom that made common 
 a wage of eleven shillings a week. 
 
 Out of the Parliamentary Session I took my 
 turn at this kind of work. One mission was in 
 connection with the wreck of the Northfleet, run 
 down off Dungeness in the dead of a January 
 night with a loss of 300 lives. This happened 
 on January 22, 1873. Inquiry opened at Dover 
 where some of the survivors were landed. In 
 course of time it was removed to Lydd, an old- 
 world town connected with the sea by a mile of 
 shingle traversed with the assistance of foot- 
 gear locally known as " back-stays," being strips 
 of wood attached to the boat. Driving from 
 Dover to Lydd we passed through Hythe, one 
 of the Cinque Ports. I was charmed with the 
 crooked narrow way of its High Street, with its 
 
 H 
 
98 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 old-fashioned roofs and house fronts dating back 
 beyond Stuart times. 
 
 Some years later I revisited Hythe, a holiday 
 often repeated. In 1883, before starting on a 
 journey round the world, we bought a piece of 
 land commnnding a far-reaching view over the 
 great highway of the Channel. We settled upon 
 building plans, and when we came back, lo ! there 
 stood, rock-buUt, red-tiled Whitethorn, a happy 
 home through succeeding years, with its garden 
 where roses grow beyond compare, and through 
 late spring nights the nightingale sings. From 
 1874 to 1900 I did an amount of work that, 
 looking back, seems incredible, I attribute my 
 unbroken health and vigour largely to the habit 
 of week-ending through the Session in our cottage 
 by the sea. 
 
 It was to Whitethorn, by the way, that Lord 
 Charles Beresford despatched a message famous 
 in the Home Fleet. From 1893-96 he was in 
 command of the Steam Eeserve at Chatham 
 Dockyard. One Friday afternoon I received from 
 him at the House of Commons a telegram saying 
 he was going to take the Magnificent just com- 
 pleted, for a trial trip, and inviting John Penn 
 (Member for Dulwich, whose firm had engined the 
 battleship) and me to run down and join her. We 
 arrived at his q^uarters in time for dinner, and 
 getting up at five o'clock the following morning 
 steamed down the Medway in the Admiral's launch, 
 boarding the Magnificent in the Channel. 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 99 
 
 She was not yet commissioned ; had not her 
 regular crew on board, and as far as deck and 
 cabin arrangements were concerned was in rather 
 rough condition. Arrangements were made before- 
 hand that on the return journey I was to be 
 dropped at Dover within convenient distance of 
 Hythe. The trial being prolonged, it was im- 
 possible to carry out the programme. Lord 
 Charles, always thoughtful of others, feared that 
 my wife would be anxious at my non-arrival. 
 Passing Hythe on the homeward tack, assured oi 
 safety by constant soundings, he brought the iron- 
 clad closer to land in Hythe Bay than battleships 
 had floated since the Danes made their historic 
 descent on the coast. The coastguardsmen on 
 duty hurrying to the beach at the unusual spectacle, 
 were signalled to receive a message by semaphore. 
 It ran thus — 
 
 "To Mrs. Lucy, Whitethorn, Hythe. 
 " From Lord Charles Beresford, Magnificent. 
 " Mr. Lucy will be home to luncheon to-morrow 
 at 1.30." 
 
 Half an hour later the following message was 
 delivered. "To Mrs. Lucy, Whitethorn, Hythe. 
 From Lord Charles Beresford. Magnificent Mr. 
 Lucy will be home to luncheon to-morrow at 
 1.30." 
 
 Semaphore signalling does not take into 
 account semicolons or full stops. To this day 
 
100 SIXTY YEAES IN TflE WILDERNESS 
 
 Lord Charles, writing to me, invariably addresses 
 " Magnificent Mr, Lucy." 
 
 It was in February, 1873, that I entered upon 
 what proved a long career as manager of the 
 Daily News Parliamentary corps and writer of its 
 Parliamentary summary. It was a curious, in 
 some respects a delicate, position, seeing that, com- 
 pared with some of the staff, I was a mere chicken 
 in point of age. Three had been on the paper since 
 it started under the editorship of Charles Dickens. 
 They had been contemporaries of the novelist's 
 father when at last "something" did "turn up" 
 in the way of a salaried appointment on the Gallery 
 staff of the Morning Chronicle. Had fortune 
 favoured me in that direction, any one of these 
 three Nestors might have been my grandfather. 
 
 In spite of this disparity, alike of age and 
 of experience, we got along admirably, they easing 
 my path with kindly counsel and the friendliest 
 consideration. It was different with some of the 
 old hands on other corps, who bitterly resented the 
 intrusion of a comparative youngster reaching at a 
 bound a leading position in the Gallery. I was 
 innocent of designed offence, too busy and too 
 much interested in my work to take notice of their 
 little ways. 
 
 The arrangements provided for members of the 
 Press were archaically scanty. Cramped for room 
 for writing out their reports, the commissariat 
 department was in the hands of the outer door- 
 keeper. His resources did not extend beyond a 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 101 
 
 round of beef and a knuckle of ham, delicacies 
 brought down, it was whispered, in his big red 
 pocket-handkerchief. 
 
 Even this accommodation was regarded askance 
 by the constituted authorities of the House. They 
 were still accustomed to regard the Press as an 
 intruder, subjected under the beneficent regulation 
 of Stuart days to instant expulsion if any member 
 pleased to take note of the presence of its repre- 
 sentatives. In 1867 a Committee sat to consider 
 the general arrangements of the House. The 
 reporters, greatly daring, seized this opportunity 
 of laying before it a statement of their grievances, 
 and asked for fuller convenience in carrying on 
 their work. The Serjeant-at-Arms (Lord Charles 
 Russell) was, very properly, astonished at their 
 unreasonableness. He plaintively deplored the 
 times when, as he put it, reporters seemed to 
 require only the necessaries of life, not presuming 
 to lift their eyes to its luxuries. 
 
 " They used, I am told," Lord Charles added, 
 "just to have a glass of water and biscuits, or 
 anything of that sort. Now they have their tea 
 at the back of the Gallery." 
 
 Oliver Twist asking for more barely reached 
 the height of these reporters of forty years ago. 
 Like Mr. Bumble, the Serjeant-at-Arms literally 
 gasped in dismayed astonishment. 
 
 All that is changed. Thanks to the courtesy 
 and reasonableness of successive First Commis- 
 sioners of Works, of whom Mr. David Plunket, 
 
102 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 now Lord Eathmore, was the first to labour in 
 tlie field, the arrangements in the Press Gallery 
 of to-day leave nothing to be desired. 
 
 On the eve of New Year's Day, 1873, Parliament 
 still being in recess, I went down to South Wales 
 to write about a strike in which 60,000 colliers 
 were concerned. I remained there upwards of a 
 fortnight, daily telegi-aphing a long letter to the 
 Daily News. Public attention became concentrated 
 on the episode. Kindly hearts were touched by 
 the narrative of the sufferings of women and 
 children, foodless and fireless whilst the bread- 
 winners waged their battle with the employers. 
 Money in relief of the suffering thousands began 
 to flow in to the Daily News office. Within three 
 weeks £10,000, in addition to many gifts in kind, 
 were placed at the disposal of the manager of the 
 paper. With a portion of the money allotted to 
 him, the rector of Merthyr was enabled to feed 
 daily for seventeen weeks 5000 children. 
 
 The principal London and provincial papers 
 followed the lead of the Daily News in sending 
 special correspondents to South Wales. Among 
 them came Christie Murray, who was on the staff 
 of the Birmingham Morning News, a recently 
 established, not long-lived, paper edited by George 
 Dawson. The London men were inclined to snub 
 Murray, whose manner was somewhat high and 
 mighty. He did not mean anything. Shyness 
 was doubtless at the bottom of the business. But 
 it led to his being chaffed and, to a considerable 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 103 
 
 extent, ostracised by the company of journalists 
 messing at the hotel. I was sorry for the youth, 
 made friends with him, and gradually brought the 
 others round to a more genial attitude. 
 
 The Morning News being discontinued, Murray 
 came to London in search of fortune. I tried to 
 get him an engagement on the Daily News, but 
 Kobinson did not view the proposal with favour, 
 though he gave him an occasional engagement 
 which put a few guineas in his pocket. As soon 
 as I had made arrangements for starting a weekly 
 paper of my own, I wrote to Murray informing 
 him of the proposal and cheering him with promise 
 of regular work as a contributor. This was abund- 
 antly fulfilled. From the first number he was a 
 regular contributor to Mayfair, doing excellent 
 work both in verse and prose. As far as out- 
 ward sign testified, he was never a penny the 
 richer. Cheques were sent out weekly in payment 
 of contributions to the current number. Murray 
 was always ahead of his remittance, sometimes 
 to the extent of two or three weeks. 
 
 When the Kusso-Turkish war broke out in 
 1877 he obtained a commission from the Times 
 and saw some service in the field. For him 
 the campaign ended ingloriously, he being held 
 captive for payment of debts incurred. He 
 wrote home to his friends, begging for ransom. 
 I subscribed £10 to the necessary sum, which 
 brought about the end of my acquaintance with 
 Murray. Coming home on obtaining his release. 
 
104 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 he one day sauntered into my room at the May fair 
 office, grandly attired in a fur coat, to the purchase 
 of which my poor £10 would have gone but a 
 small way. He talked loftily of his connection 
 with the Times and of his immediate prospects in 
 Printing House Square, which alas! ended in smoke. 
 I took the opportunity of speaking hopefully of 
 the prospects of the hard-working, stay-at-home 
 journalists who had put together the contents of 
 their slim purses for Prince Florizel's deliverance. 
 Now, I aflfected to believe, they would all be repaid. 
 He was very angry at the turn given to the 
 conversation. I do not know whether he repaid 
 any other. I not only did not get a penny back, 
 but straightway became the object of my old 
 friend's personal animosity. 
 
 Murray was a strange compound of genius, 
 sentimentality, and selfishness. In the early days 
 of our acquaintance he, with tears coursing down 
 his cheeks, read to me a charming verse he had 
 written to his wife on her birthday. The next 
 time I saw the poor lady's name mentioned was, 
 some years later, in the police-court news, wherein 
 he appeared as an applicant for an order com- 
 pelling her husband to pay a certain alimony 
 settled by the magistrate who had adjudicated 
 upon a case of desertion. 
 
 Another acquaintance ripening into friendship 
 made on the South Wales mission was that of 
 George Henty, beloved of boys as the author of 
 many stirring stories. He appeared on the scene 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 105 
 
 as representative of the Standard. He was at 
 once the warmest-hearted, shortest-tempered man 
 in the world. After our day's work was done 
 some of us used to have a hand at whist, a game 
 in which Henty was proficient. One night, we 
 invited to dinner at our hotel the telegraph clerk 
 sent down from London to cope with our volu- 
 minous messages. The piece de resistance of the 
 meal was a loin of pork. We asked the tele- 
 graph man what wine he would drink. " Port," 
 he promptly answered, and he washed down 
 portions of pig with libations of port, a conjunction 
 of two P's probably theretofore unparalleled. 
 
 After dinner we had our turn at whist, and the 
 hapless telegraph man became Henty's partner. 
 It was pretty to watch Henty's face as the first 
 hand was played. Eemembering his position as 
 joint host, he put restraint upon himself that 
 threatened an explosion, with his dinner and his 
 brains distributed about the room. When the 
 telegraph clerk, seeing his opportunity, and 
 determined to have at least one trick to his 
 credit, trumped Henty's king of hearts on the 
 second round, the ace having earlier captured the 
 queen, Henty jumped to his feet and threw his 
 cards on the table exclaiming " My God ! " 
 
 That was all he said. But the expression of 
 blank amazement and hopeless despair conveyed 
 by the exclamation terrified the telegraph clerk, 
 who said he had better go and see whether our 
 messages had safely reached London, 
 
106 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 Before he found his true vocation in writing 
 boys' books, Henty tried various methods of 
 supplementing his salary on the Standard. 
 One was the recovery of tin from broken or 
 disused uteijsils. For some months his study 
 was filled with a bad smell and scraps of broken 
 tin. The former was engendered by efforts to 
 melt off the tin from the baser metal with the 
 assistance of a chemical compound invented by the 
 operator. 
 
 The next thing that attracted Henty 's attention 
 and filled him with hope of fortune was the building 
 of a reversible boat, bound to right itself auto- 
 matically. He took rooms up the river and with 
 some assistance from a village mechanic buUt his 
 boat. To a certain extent it proved an unqualified 
 success. At the slightest well-directed touch, 
 sometimes without, it would turn over, keel upper- 
 most, with Henty in the river. Kighting itself 
 was, as the French say, another pair of sleeves. 
 Through some anxious weeks he was frequently 
 ignominiously rescued by a passing boat, and 
 walked home oozing water from pockets and boots. 
 In the end his landlady gave him notice on the 
 ground that she could not " be always mopping up 
 after him." I fancy he gladly seized this oppor- 
 tunity of retiring from the boat-building business. 
 To the end he retained his fondness for river 
 and sea, keeping a yawl which, with the assistance 
 of a crew of one boy, he sailed himself. The last 
 time I met him was at the dinner-table of another 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 107 
 
 old friend. In the long interval since we first met, 
 he had grown very stout. Bent upon friendly 
 conversation, he had a somewhat embarrassing 
 habit of prodding you, so to speak, with his 
 corporation. He wanted me to go and spend a 
 week-end with him on his yawl. 
 
 " Can always put a fellow up," he said. " Can't 
 do more than one ; but I'll make you comfortable, 
 and we can have a chat about old times." 
 " How big is she ? " I asked. 
 " Twenty tons," he answered. 
 That settled the matter. I was very fond 
 of Henty, but the idea of being shut up from 
 Saturday to Monday with him and his Great 
 Possession, of being pursued along the deck of a 
 twenty-tonner when he desired literally to impress 
 a remark upon my attention, was too much. I 
 remembered I was engaged for the week-end. 
 
 One of the kindest-hearted men in the world, 
 who would not hurt a fly, much less wound a 
 reporter, Eobinson possessed in high degree the 
 gift of writing scorching letters to a delinquent. 
 They were always short, but piercingly pointed, 
 bringing terror to the household of the man to 
 whom they were addressed. It was only his fun, 
 a grotesque mask that hid a kindly countenance. 
 After my escapade at Eochester, related in a 
 subsequent chapter, I do not remember suffering 
 in this way, save once, somewhere I think in the 
 nineties, when he wrote me a savagely worded, as 
 I thought, unjust commentary on my work in 
 
108 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 the Gallery. I responded by resigning my post. 
 Forthwith came this undated letter in which the 
 real Robinson appears — 
 
 " 4, Addison Crescent, Kensington, "W., 
 
 " Wednesday night. 
 
 " My dear Lucy, — I am a fallible man and 
 your letter makes me feel this very thoroughly. I 
 put such a high estimate on your work that I am 
 quite likely to expect too much and be exacting. 
 We cannot possibly spare you. We are bound in 
 a hundred ways to go on ; so forget my letter and 
 forgive a hasty effusion. The names you mention 
 are those of men who are better critics than I am. 
 It was only my wish to make the articles, as I 
 thought, quite perfect. Yours very truly, 
 
 " J. R. Robinson." 
 
 The following letter refers to an incident in my 
 life in the Press Gallery : — 
 
 " 42, Ashley Gaedens, Victoria Street, 
 
 " January 23, 1902. 
 
 (C " 
 
 'My deau Sir, — On the threshold of my 
 thirtieth session in the Press Gallery of the House 
 of Commons I should esteem it a privilege, if I 
 might be permitted in some small way to make 
 permanent record of my esteem for the Brother- 
 hood among whom I have so long worked. 
 We have from time to time brought under our notice 
 the case of comrades in temporary need, owing to 
 
I JOIN THE DAILY NEWS 109 
 
 no fault of their own, or of the widows and 
 children of Gallery men to whom a few pounds 
 would be of service. 
 
 " It has occurred to me that the committee 
 might be disposed to add to their other invaluable 
 services to the Gallery the undertaking of a trust 
 to dispose of a small assured annual fund for dis- 
 tribution in these directions. I would suggest that 
 a sub-Committee of three be annually appointed 
 to discharge the duty, an essential condition of 
 its working being absolute secrecy as to the appor- 
 tionment of the little gifts. If the proposal meets 
 the approval of the Committee, I shall be glad to 
 hand you a cheque for £1000, the interest to be 
 available (as long as a Press Gallery exists) for 
 the purpose indicated. 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 "Henry W. Lucy. 
 
 " To the Chairman of the Committee of the Press 
 Gallery" 
 
 The offer was warmly accepted, and the working 
 of the scheme has been attended by unqualified 
 success. It did away with a kindly, not always 
 judicious, custom of sending the hat round when- 
 ever a Gallery man died and left his family in 
 straitened circumstances. Now all cases come 
 privily before a sub-Committee, are considered 
 in strict jjrivacy, and are dealt with on their 
 merits. 
 
110 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 An especially pleasing development of the 
 scheme is that every Session voluntary contribu- 
 tions to the fund are made by Members. Thus it 
 grows year by year, with the promise that in time 
 the tribute of the Gallery will exceed the donation 
 of the founder of the Trust. 
 
XII 
 
 LONDON COEEBSPONDENT 
 
 I HAVE forgotten to mention that among other 
 work carried on through these days of drudgery, I 
 wrote a weekly London Letter, which appeared 
 simultaneously in seven or eight of the principal 
 county papers. When my connection with May- 
 fair ceased, the paper drifting into the possession 
 of a gentleman who desired to enter Parliament, 
 I was approached by one of my clients, who also 
 owned a morning newspaper, with the suggestion 
 that I should write and despatch by telegraph a 
 Daily Letter exceeding a column in length. Here, 
 again, was a task suflB.cient to occupy, as in several 
 familiar cases it engrosses, the full attention of a 
 journalist. For me it was to be the supplement 
 of my regular work on the Daily News. How- 
 ever, it was a highly paid post, one of considerable 
 influence in view of the wide and populous circle of 
 readers addressed. I found no difficulty in forming 
 a syndicate of eight of the leading provincial daily 
 papers, and early had the satisfaction of knovsdng 
 that the Letter had become a popular feature in 
 
 the several papers in which it appeared. 
 
 Ill 
 
112 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Amongst my constant readers during the recess 
 was Mr. Gladstone. He once told me the first 
 thing in the way of newspapers he read was the 
 London Letter in the Liverpool Daily Post. Here 
 is a post-card from him dated Hawarden Castle, 
 October 13, 1890— 
 
 "Deab Mb. Lucy, — I quite understood your 
 first paragraph in the London Letter, but feared 
 you had interpreted favourably the demand made 
 upon us. I fear the true interpretation is accord- 
 ing to your citation in the London Letter which 
 appears to-day, viz. that I myself and the whole 
 Party are to engage to take no step, give no vote 
 on the matter referred to until the next Parliament 
 but one. A large order. Hoping we may meet. 
 I remain, faithfully yours." 
 
 The matter referred to was the Disestablish- 
 ment of the Church in Scotland, a question at the 
 time dividing the Liberal Party north of the 
 Tweed. Many were prepared to vote for Home 
 Rule as a plank in Mr. Gladstone's platform, which 
 it was evident from the trend of political affairs 
 must soon be set up. But they demurred to have 
 the Disestablishment question raised at the forth- 
 coming General Election. 
 
 I kept the Daily Letter running till acceptance 
 of the editorship of the Daily News, made its con- 
 tinuance impossible. It was resumed in January, 
 1888, in circumstances detailed in the followinor 
 editorial note in the South Wales Daily News : — 
 
LONDON COEEESPONDBNT 113 
 
 " It is with pleasure that we have to announce 
 that we have been able to again secure the services 
 of Mr. Henry W. Lucy, who for so many years (up 
 to April, 1886) contributed our London Letter, 
 and who was generally admitted to have carried 
 London correspondence to the highest state of 
 perfection at that time attained. Mr. Lucy 
 resigned the work of London correspondence on 
 becoming editor-in-chief of the London Daily 
 News, and in this important position increased 
 still further his extensive knowledge of all the 
 political leaders of the day, and of the movements 
 contemplated by them. Mr. Lucy, however, always 
 hankered after his old position in the House of 
 Commons, and a short time since resigned the 
 editorship in order to again take up his former 
 work. Our readers may therefore anticipate that 
 his London correspondence will be still further 
 enriched by the increased sources of information 
 now in his possession, and by the remarkably 
 extensive and intimate acquaintance he has 
 acquired amongst the leaders of every political 
 and social movement." 
 
 "Without exception the papers I had formerly 
 served came back to the fold. Mr. Leader, one of 
 the proprietors of the Sheffield Independent, under- 
 took the position of hon. secretary and treasurer 
 of the syndicate. To him four years later was 
 addressed the following letter : — 
 
114 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 " London, 
 " Octolm- 14, 1892. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Leader, — I wish to give you 
 timely notice of my intention to ask leave at the 
 close of the -recess to withdraw from my service 
 to your syndicate. Supposing, as is probable, 
 Parliament meets on an early day in February, 
 January 31 would seem to be a suitable date for 
 the termination of my engagement. In any ease 
 you would probably think it convenient to com- 
 mence the new service with the new Session. I 
 take this step with much regret, my personal 
 relations with the syndicate, and in a special 
 degree with yourself, having been most agreeable 
 and encouraging. But the fact is the duties of a 
 London Correspondent, if properly fulfilled, are so 
 engrossing and exacting as practically to engage 
 every moment of his time. I cannot afford, if 
 I were disposed, to do any work with which 
 my name is prominently associated otherwise 
 than at my best, I feel I have sustained the 
 effort long enough, and shall henceforward con- 
 centrate this department of my work on my 
 weekly Letter. 
 
 "Whatever may be the merits or demerits 
 of the correspondence taking the twelve months 
 through, I have at least the satisfaction of know- 
 ing that, whilst I have kept it going for upwards 
 of ten years, during which you have printed in- 
 numerable paragraphs on personal and political 
 questions of the day, I do not recall any case in 
 
LONDON COEEESPONDBNT 115 
 
 which you have been obliged to retract a state- 
 ment — certainly none in which the London Letter 
 has involved you in legal proceedings. With 
 sincere regard, 
 
 " I am, yours faithfully, 
 
 "Henry W. Lucy." 
 
 At this period it was quite time to reef the 
 sails represented by my daily work. When I look 
 back at the accomplished tasks of a single day, 
 I marvel how it was done — done, too, with ap- 
 parent ease and unfailing regularity. My secretary 
 arrived at 10.30 in the morning. By luncheon 
 time — writing for Punch, the Observer, the WeeMy 
 Graphic, with an occasional magazine article 
 thrown in, always a considerable private corre- 
 spondence to conduct — a pretty fair day's work 
 was completed. Actually it was a mere prelimi- 
 nary, a sort of canter before the race began. 
 After luncheon I went straight off to the House. 
 On most nights, with interval for dinner, I was in 
 my box in the Gallery in close touch with what 
 was going on till the House was up. At this 
 stage my work was simply doubled. I was a dual 
 personage : summary writer for the Daily News, 
 London Correspondent for eight important daily 
 papers, each wanting the very best. In addition, 
 no slight addition, I spent an hour, sometimes two, 
 in the Lobby in conversation with multitudinous 
 friends on both sides of the House. As a result 
 I wrote for the Daily Neios, in addition to 
 
116 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 " Pictures in Parliament," a separate London 
 Letter, rarely less than half a column in length. 
 
 After all it was easy enough. I made it a 
 point of honour never to touch my country work 
 tUl I had done my best for the Daily News. That 
 copy despatched with full record up to the current 
 moment, I approached my London Letter from a 
 fresh point of view, wrote in a different style and, 
 though necessarily dealing with the same incidents, 
 produced an article which no one not privy to 
 the fact would know was the work of one and the 
 same person. Taking up the wondrous tale at a 
 later period of the sitting the process was repeated^ 
 the Daily News always being first served. 
 
 One other consequence of my connection with 
 the country newspapers was my solitary appear- 
 ance in the field of romance. The late Mr. 
 Tillotson, proprietor of a Bolton weekly paper that 
 from the first took my London Letter, was the 
 manager of a syndicate providing fiction for the 
 weekly Press. It was, perhaps, a dubious com- 
 pliment that he should have convinced himself 
 that the writer of his London Letter had in him 
 the making of a master of fiction. With a light 
 heart and 'an unrelieved load of work, I accepted a 
 commission to write a novel. The result was 
 " Gideon Fleyce," which, after running through 
 the weekly papers, was published by Chatto & 
 Windus in three- volume form. It did not incom- 
 mode the libraries or the booksellers with a rush of 
 applications. But it was favourably received by 
 
LONDON COREESPONDENT 117 
 
 the Press, and, the first edition worked off, the 
 publishers were encouraged to print a cheaper one. 
 I am proud to remember that one of its warmest 
 admirers was the late George Bentley, who 
 frequently urged me to write a novel for him. 
 I really had not time. " Gideon Fleyce " was 
 written in spare hours and half hours snatched 
 from the eternal round of daily work hinted at, 
 and that work had in the meantime considerably 
 grown. 
 
 Like all my work, whether for the book-world 
 or for newspapers, the text of the novel was 
 dictated to a shorthand writer. My time being 
 fully engaged through the Session with Parlia- 
 mentary affairs, I formed the custom, after I had 
 done a pretty stiff morning's work, of going with 
 my secretary into the garden if it were fine, into 
 another room if it were not, and, thus refreshed 
 by change of scene, writing a chapter of " Gideon 
 Fleyce." 
 
 I remember how my secretary, a lanky Scotch- 
 man, lacking his countrymen's love of hard work, 
 used to groan when I started upon a new episode 
 of the thrilling story. At first this encouraged 
 me, as I thought I recognised in it a burst of 
 emotion uncontrollable under the spell of the 
 writing. Too soon I learnt it was a moan of 
 disgust at the irrepressible energy that would carry 
 me on for another quarter of an hour, which for 
 him meant at least an hour's writing out from 
 manuscript. This was rather discouraging, and I 
 
118 SIXTY YEABS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 put down to its influence any exceptionally weak 
 passages in the novel. 
 
 Another appreciative reader was the eminent 
 critic of the Athenceum, himself a successful 
 novelist. 
 
 "The Piues, 11, Putney Hill, S.W., 
 " July 15, 1904. 
 
 " Dear Lucy, — ^I suppose I need not say that 
 both Swinburne and I were deeply gratified by 
 your generous words in Punch, and Swinburne 
 wishes to join me in thanking you for them. 
 Should you, amid your thousand and one sources 
 of interest and business, find time to come and see 
 us again, it would give us the greatest pleasure. 
 Could you not some time bring Mrs. Lucy to tea ? 
 That would not take up much time. 
 
 " I was successful in getting your two books. 
 I am more persuaded than ever that, if it so 
 pleased you, you might take a high position as a 
 novelist. With kindest regards, 
 " Believe me to be, 
 
 " Most sincerely yours, 
 
 " Theodore Watts-Dunton." 
 
 The books referred to are "Gideon Fleyce" 
 and a series of short stories taking their title from 
 the opening one, " The Miller's Niece." 
 
XIII 
 
 TEE WORLD AND MAYFAIR 
 
 In tte summer of July, 1874, Edmund Yates 
 started The World. In a characteristic preface 
 written by himself he announced : " The World 
 wUl be an amusing chronicle of current history 
 divested of the nonsense which has hitherto stuck 
 like treacle to public business, so that apparently 
 it could not be touched with clean hands. Politics, 
 and even Parliamentary proceedings deserving of 
 attention, will sometimes be discussed from any 
 point of view from which there is a clearer 
 prospect or less of fog than is usual." 
 
 Telling in his KecoUections and Experiences 
 the story of the birth of the journal, Yates 
 writes : " When we were eight months old, a 
 powerful reinforcement came to me in the person 
 of Mr. Henry W. Lucy, whose admirable Parlia- 
 mentary sketches, 'Under the Clock,' instantly 
 commanded attention." 
 
 It was a note from Yates asking me to call 
 at his private residence, then in Cavendish Square, 
 which led to my being recruited on the new 
 journal already beginning to make a stir. I do 
 
 119 
 
120 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 not think I was at the time personally known to 
 him. If so, the acquaintance was slight. He 
 told me later that his attention had been drawn 
 to my work by the publication in the Gentleman's 
 Magazine of a series of articles entitled "Men 
 and Manner' in Parliament," purporting to be 
 written by the Member for the Chiltern Hundreds, 
 They were reprinted in book form by Tinsley, 
 who I hope made something out of the business. 
 The Press received the book with encouraging 
 appreciation. But I suppose, as I never got a 
 penny for it, the public did not rush to buy it. 
 
 Yates offered me what I regarded as a dazzling 
 wage of four guineas for a sort of weekly chronicle 
 of Parliamentary proceedings. From the first it 
 had assigned to it the place of honour in the lively 
 journal, and at the commencement of the next 
 Session (1876) he, as he put it in a pleasant 
 letter, desiring to share with his colleagues the 
 prosperity of The World, nearly doubled my 
 salary, making it, for its length, probably the 
 most highly priced contribution to the weekly 
 Press. 
 
 Every effort was made on Yates's part and 
 my own to preserve the anonymity of the con- 
 tribution. It was publicly disclosed in connection 
 with an action for libel brought against the paper 
 by an Orange M.P., one Charles Lewis. Shortly 
 after the Parliament of 1874 was summoned he 
 began to push himself to the front in a manner 
 from which the fine taste and sensibility of the 
 
THE WORLD AND MAYFAIR 121 
 
 House of Commons instinctively revolts. I freely 
 descanted upon his mannerism, incidentally noting 
 his attire, which bewrayed the man. He ever 
 presented himself in black frock coat and trousers, 
 in summer or winter, relieved by a white waistcoat. 
 There was no reason why he should not, even in 
 wintry weather, wear a white waistcoat. Some- 
 how or other, to an impressionable mind, it com- 
 pleted the distaste created by the stumpy figure, 
 the hard face adorned with mutton-chop whiskers, 
 and the raucous voice. 
 
 In his organised effort to keep himself to the 
 front, Lewis tried a fall with Eobert Lowe and 
 came heavily to the ground. On another occasion 
 he raised a case of breach of privilege, and moved 
 that the printers of two of the London morning 
 papers should be brought to the Bar of the 
 House charged with the crime of having re- 
 ported the proceedings of the Select Committee 
 an Foreign Loans. It was, of course, an absurdity, 
 proceedings in Select Committees being reported 
 as regularly as debates in Parliament. But 
 privilege is in some respects analogous to the 
 monster created by Frankenstein. Being formally 
 invoked, it for a while dominated the House, 
 wasted an hour of public time, resulting in the 
 printers, who were bodily brought to the Bar, 
 being begged to go away and say nothing more 
 about it. 
 
 These and other banalities on the part of the 
 Member for Londonderry were commented upon 
 
122 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 in " Clock " articles, much to the amusement of 
 the House. Lewis at length brought an action 
 for libel against The World. It was tried before 
 Lord Chief Justice Cockburn, an ominous circum- 
 stance, since it was no secret that he hated 
 Edmund Yates and all his works. He was obliged 
 to admit that there was no case to go before a jury, 
 and the action came to swift conclusion. 
 
 My connection with Tlie World lasted only two 
 Sessions, It was lucrative and honourable. With 
 the audacity of comparative youth I thought I 
 could do better on my own account. In December, 
 1877, appeared the first number of May fair, a six- 
 penny weekly, of which I was editor, with half 
 share in the proprietorship. The scheme of the new 
 venture was set forth in the following passage from 
 the prospectus : — 
 
 " May fair starts free from obligations either to 
 persons or to party. Those concerned are not 
 insensible to the attraction of the possibility of 
 making a fortune out of the pecuniary venture, and 
 have elaborated commercial machinery which may 
 effect that desirable end. But no one primarily looks 
 to live by the journal, the founders being chiefly 
 solicitous to acquire a medium through which they 
 may speak plainly and honestly on public questions 
 with the bearings of which they chance to be 
 specially familiar. That this may be done without 
 outraging good taste — that facts may be stated 
 plainly, and arguments advanced boldly, without 
 
THE WORLD AND MAYFAIR 123 
 
 invading the privacy of life, or justifying the charge 
 of vulgarity — is a task to the accomplishment of 
 which the writers of May fair devote themselves 
 with some confidence." 
 
 What was at the time a novelty in this class of 
 weekly papers was the illustration of the text by 
 freely drawn sketches, as often as possible done 
 from life. 
 
 The idea was to have a paper equal to The 
 World in literary style, but free from the spice of 
 devilry which occasionally flashed across its 
 pages and shocked good people. It turned out 
 that it was just this particular flavouring that made 
 The World palatable. Mayfair was served by a 
 staff some of whom have risen to high distinction. 
 Amongst them is a learned judge whose Court is 
 to-day constantly illuminated with those scintilla- 
 tions of humour that did not save Mayfair from 
 gradual decay and an early grave. Another con- 
 stant contributor, for a long while acting as assistant 
 editor, was Dr. Hueffer, who from the modest level 
 of Mayfair stepped into the chair of theatrical critic 
 of the Times. Henry J. Byron later filled that 
 position on Mayfair, John Corlett, the Pink 'Un 
 not yet blushing to find itself famous, writing 
 weekly on the Turf. Mr. George Cave, K.C., 
 Kecorder of Guildford, Member for the Kingston 
 Division of Surrey, told me the other day that 
 among his chiefest treasures is a copy of an article 
 he contributed to Mayfair. He has since established 
 
124 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 a high reputation in his profession as editor of 
 "Sweet's Conveyancing" and "Gale on Ease- 
 ments." Eeviewing his literary achievements he 
 thinks tenderly of the article in May fair and the 
 two guineas \\ brought him. 
 
 I have mentioned Christie Murray, not yet 
 developed as a novelist. Edmund Gosse, now 
 throned in the Library of the House of Lords, was 
 another who kept up the style and authority of 
 Mayfair. But it never paid. On the contrary, 
 the joint proprietors lost heavily. My partner was 
 Joseph Cowen, Member for Newcastle, a man of 
 generous mind and vast wealth, to whom the loss 
 of a few thousands was, as the buyer said, 
 " Naught." I hadn't thousands to lose. What I 
 had went to meet expenses. It is at least to the 
 credit of the derelict that, with the exception of 
 Cowen and myself, no one lost a penny by the 
 enterprise. On weekly pay-days every claim was 
 met. 
 
 Amongst some cherished friendships born of my 
 editorial connection with the paper was that of 
 Henry J. Byron. For a year or so we were close 
 neighbours in Brixton Koad, and I frequently 
 looked in for a chat about his forthcoming article. 
 He was curiously restless about his habitation, 
 having barely settled down in one abode before 
 he was off to another. Wherever he went stables 
 were necessary for the accommodation of a pair of 
 carriage horses of which he was justly proud. 
 
 Calling one morning, I found him chuckling 
 
THE WORLD AND MATFAIR 125 
 
 over the bewilderment of his coachman. Making 
 his morning report, he announced symptoms of 
 illness on the part of the mare. 
 
 " I think I'd better give her a ball," he said. 
 
 " All right," replied Byron, " only don't ask 
 too many people." 
 
 I don't know whether in the course of the day 
 or later the coachman saw the sequence of this 
 remark. To Byron's great delight it evidently 
 bewildered him as he left the room. 
 
 Byron was a devoted admirer of Charles Lamb, 
 from whose writings he frequently quoted in con- 
 versation. As a mark of special friendship he gave 
 me a copy of Elia's complete works in prose and 
 verse. On the fly-leaf is written the curt, dateless 
 inscription : " H. W. Lucy, from H. J. Byron." 
 
 Most modest among men, he thought very little 
 of his own work.^ I have a vivid recollection of 
 seeing him almost literally dragged on to the 
 stage by James and Thorne, in response to the 
 enthusiastic call of a thronged house present at 
 the one-thousandth night of Our Boys. 
 
 " What a fuss about nothing ! " he said, when 
 the ordeal was over. 
 
 My withdrawal from the staff of The World did 
 not rupture friendly relations with the editor and 
 proprietor. There was a little friction at first, but 
 it was smoothed away by a jest. I invented the 
 title of the Parliamentary article, "Under the 
 Clock by One of the Hands," with occasional inter- 
 polation by "The Other One." At the end of 
 
126 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 the second year it was closely bound up with my 
 identity. It seemed natural and proper that if 
 Yates continued to have a Parliamentary article it 
 should start with a fresh name. He, however, 
 opened the new Session with what purported to 
 be a continuance of the old series. I wrote com- 
 plaining that some one was " masquerading in my 
 clothes." 
 
 Swift came the reply. " My dear Lucy, there 
 is no one on our staff whom your clothes would 
 fit." 
 
 Across the broad acres of streets that separated 
 our residences I fancied I could hear Yates's hearty 
 guffaw as he penned and posted this quip. Next 
 to himself, I do not think any one enjoyed it more 
 than its innocent object. 
 
 The new series did not take on with readers of 
 The World and was presently dropped, my place 
 of honour on the front page of the paper being 
 filled by a political article from the brilliant pen of 
 Frank Hill. 
 
 It is a pleasure to recall the fact that some 
 years later, when announcement of discontinuance 
 of my daily London Letter was made, Yates wrote 
 warmly inviting me to resume my old connection 
 with the paper, or as he put it, " Wind up the 
 Clock and Set the Hands Going Again." It would 
 have been a pleasure to me to return to the fold. 
 But with " Toby's Diary " going in Punch, the 
 " Cross Bench " article a prominent feature in the 
 Observer, not to mention " Pictures in Parliament" 
 
THE WORLD AND MAYFAIB 127 
 
 in the Daily News, I felt I could hardly hope to 
 realise the glowing expectation expressed by Yates, 
 and so declined. 
 
 Always a hard-worker, I never toiled so terribly 
 as during my two years' connection with May fair. 
 I had no knowledge of the commercial side of the 
 business and no assistance from successive holders 
 of the position of advertisement canvassers. Indeed 
 one helped himself from our not lavishly supplied 
 coffers. I transferred the " Clock " articles from 
 The World under the title " On the Watch." In 
 addition, I wrote most of the paragraphs consti- 
 tuting " The Chat of the Fair," reviewed books, 
 read all proofs, saw the paper to press, in addition 
 to fulfilling the ordinary editorial function of 
 planning the scheme of the paper each week and 
 assigning various contributions to particular 
 writers. 
 
 This would have been a fair week's work had 
 I otherwise been disengaged. But the task of 
 conducting, practically single-handed, a high-class 
 weekly paper was merely an addition to the 
 regular engagements of the week. I was con- 
 currently manager of the Parliamentary corps of 
 the Daily News, and wrote a daily summary 
 varying in length from one column to two. Life 
 in the House of Commons was a different thing 
 then from the placid process of to-day. The 
 Speaker took the Chair regularly at four o'clock. 
 No one knew when he would quit it and 
 relieve mpmbers of the Press Gallery from further 
 
128 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 attendance. All-night sittings were of regular 
 occurrence. To get home before two o'clock 
 in the morning was a rare luxury, suggesting a 
 comparatively idle day. By Saturday morning 
 the average .labourer in this particular vineyard 
 would gratefully seize the opportunity of lying 
 in bed for an extra hour or two making holiday 
 till Monday. As for me, whatever hour I got 
 home from the House of Commons on Saturday 
 morning, I was up and off to the Strand so as to 
 be at my desk in the May fair office at ten o'clock. 
 I remained there till seven or eight in the evening, 
 hard at work all the time. 
 
XIV 
 
 EDITOR OF THE DAILY NEWS 
 
 One July afternoon in the Session of 1885 Mr. 
 Labouchere, then member for Northampton, invited 
 me to join him in a cigarette in the terrace 
 smoking-room. After some preliminary chat he 
 suddenly asked me how I should like to be editor 
 of a daily paper. My response was not enthusi- 
 astic. I was doing pretty well as I was, and the 
 editorial position had no allurements. 
 
 "I'm thinking of the Daily News," he said 
 quietly. 
 
 This was what the Marchioness in conversation 
 with Dick Swiveller was accustomed to describe 
 as " a wonner." The Daily News was at the 
 height of its prosperity, alike in respect of circula- 
 tion, revenue, and authority. It was the recognised 
 organ of the Liberal party then in power. The 
 editor was Mr. Frank Hill, one of the most 
 brilliant writers on the British Press. He had 
 held the position for many years, and seemed 
 permanently throned in the seat of authority. 
 
 "What about Hill?" I asked. "Has he 
 resigned ? " 
 
 129 K 
 
130 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 "Oh no," Labby airily explained. The pro- 
 prietors were not satisfied with him ; they thought 
 the paper wanted fresh, more vigorous blood, and 
 they unanimously agreed that I was the man who 
 would infuse jt. 
 
 Frank Hill was not effusive in his friendship. 
 Shortly after I joined the paper he extended it 
 to me, and it remained unbroken to the end. 
 When intimation of the change was communicated 
 to him with the ordinary provision of notice, his 
 proud spirit flared in open revolt. He shook the 
 dust of the office from his feet, quitted Bouverie 
 Street, and broke off terms of acquaintance with 
 all his former colleagues save two. One was 
 Justin McCarthy, whom no one could quarrel with 
 (except Parnell) ; the other was the man who 
 supplanted him. 
 
 I shrank from being the instrument of his 
 professional ruin to my personal advantage, and 
 declined the overtures made by Labouchere. 
 There for some time the matter rested. In 
 November, Labouchere approached me again on 
 behalf of the proprietors, and the refusal was 
 repeated. A month later the bolt fell on Hill's 
 unexpectant head. There was a vacancy in the 
 editorial room. If I did not fill it some one 
 else would ; so on the third time of asking I 
 yielded. 
 
 In ordinary circumstances it would have been 
 a difficult task for one inexperienced and compara- 
 tively young — I had just completed my forty-first 
 
EDITOE OP THE DAILY NEWS 131 
 
 year — to assume direction of a great London morn- 
 ing newspaper. The circumstances in which I pre- 
 sently found myself confronted were unprecedented. 
 Hardly had I taken in hand the reins of editorial 
 office than the historic "kite" was sent up from 
 Leeds presaging Gladstone's conversion to Home 
 Eule. As soon as Parliament met for the 
 Session of 1886 the Queen's Speech confirmed the 
 worst apprehensions. Straightway the Liberal 
 party, a month earlier united, fresh from the polls 
 with renewed authority, increased strength, was 
 riven as by an earthquake. Distrust of the new 
 departure was manifested throughout the country 
 by the secession of many important newspapers 
 that had for years been proud to carry Grladstone's 
 standard. In the metropolis the journalistic Thanes 
 fled in a body from the doomed chieftain. 
 
 The question every one asked was. What will 
 the Daily News do ? It was one I, fresh to office, 
 had to answer without aid or counsel from outside, 
 or even time thoroughly to weigh the pros and 
 cons of the situation. Probably because they were 
 themselves divided on the subject the proprietors 
 made no sign. The Daily News alone among 
 London morning papers decided to follow the old 
 leader under the old flag, albeit the latter had 
 upon it. some strange quarterings. 
 
 This was the beginning of the end. As the 
 break in the Liberal party widened the position 
 of the Daily News weakened. To some small 
 extent its circulation fell off. More serious was 
 
132 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 the shedding of advertisements. From time to time 
 in subsequent years the Home Eule bogey was set 
 up again, party passion being instantly evoked. But 
 the present generation cannot realise the bitterness 
 created between life-long friends on the birth of 
 the Home Kule scheme twenty-three years ago. 
 As editor of the only London morning paper that 
 remained staunch to the main body of Liberals, I 
 was personally the object of almost frantic revil- 
 ing. Scarcely a day passed without bringing me, 
 generally in the form of a post-card, venomous 
 accusations, occasionally scarcely veiled threats. 
 
 At the outset there was some embarrassment 
 as to denominating the something more than a 
 hundred seceders from the Liberal fold in the 
 House of Commons, In the editorial columns of 
 the Daily Neivs they were named " Dissentient 
 Liberals," which with paternal fondness I regarded 
 as a rather neat compromise. The name stuck, 
 and was generally adopted by Liberal writers and 
 speakers. With the section of party immediately 
 concerned it was greeted with angry protest. Mr. 
 Chamberlain in particular deeply resented it. 
 Like the juryman who " never met such a lot of 
 obstinate beggars " as the eleven colleagues who 
 differed from him, he insisted that he and his 
 followers were the true Liberals, preservers and 
 guardians of its ancient traditions, the real Dis- 
 sentients being the three-fourths of the party who 
 stood by Gladstone. 
 
 Whilst the Bound Table negotiations were 
 
EDITOE OF THE DAJLY NEWS 133 
 
 going forward, and there was hope Mr. Chamber- 
 lain would follow out to the end what was at the 
 time undoubtedly his desire — to reunite the 
 Liberal party — I received a hint from a very 
 high quarter that for the present at least it might 
 be desirable for the Daily News to refrain from 
 alluding to " Dissentient Liberals." 
 
 I never took kindly to the work of editing. 
 Long accustomed to be answerable only for what 
 I wrought out of my own head, I found myself 
 responsible for the printed work of a whole army 
 of contributors. It is worry that kills, not work. 
 I was nearly done to death during my eighteen 
 months' editorship of the Daily News. For the 
 first time in my life I was obliged, under the 
 doctor's orders, to repair for a three weeks' cure to 
 one of the Continental sanatoriums. 
 
 Like Sancho Panza and Mr. Gladstone, I am 
 endowed with the priceless gift of sleep. I once 
 asked Mr. Gladstone how long he slept of nights. 
 
 " I always get seven hours," he said ; " I should 
 like eight, and I could do with ten." 
 
 For myself I always have a minimum of eight 
 hours' sleep, beginning when I lay my head on the 
 pillow, finishing when I am called in the morning 
 with the surprising intelligence that it is time to 
 get up. When in the early days of the year 1887 
 I began to find myself lying awake in bed com- 
 posing leading articles, or dictating answers to 
 illimitable piles of letters, I decided it was time to 
 find change of employment. I remember how the 
 
134 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 determination was borne in upon me on a Saturday 
 night when I had gone down to country quarters 
 in hope of finding rest through the week-end. 
 I lay awake half the night tossing about in 
 conflict withi some difficult question of the day. 
 When I went down to breakfast on the Sunday 
 morning I told my wife that I would the next 
 day attend the ordinary weekly meeting of the 
 proprietors in Bouverie Street and hand in my 
 resignation. 
 
 She was amazed that any one could at such 
 short notice make up his mind on so momentous 
 an issue. The decision meant not only renuncia- 
 tion of the wages of an ambassador, but abandon- 
 ment of one of the highest positions in English 
 journalism. I had nothing in prospect by way of 
 compensation. I burned most of my boats when I 
 accepted the editorship. Other hands wrote my 
 daily letter for the provinces. My seat in the 
 Press Gallery was occupied. These considerations 
 did not deter me. I went up to town by an early 
 train, so as to be in time for the meeting of the 
 proprietors. Obtaining permission to join them, I 
 handed back to the surprised circle the interests 
 placed in my charge just twelve months earlier. 
 
 In accepting my resignation the proprietors 
 passed a resolution expressing in flattering terms 
 their regret at the severance and their appreciation 
 of my many merits. It was arranged that I should 
 remain in office for a further six months, during 
 which period the secret of my pending vacation of 
 
EDITOE 01 THE DAILY NEWS 135 
 
 the chair was strictly kept. Early in June, 
 
 whispers of the change being heard, I wrote the 
 
 following letter to Edward Eussell, then member 
 
 for Glasgow : — 
 
 "Kefoem; Club, 
 
 « June 6, 1887. 
 
 "My dear Etjssell, — As an old friend you 
 may feel interested in knowing that I have resigned 
 the editorship of the Daily News, a decision that 
 will shortly take effect. That I should, after brief 
 experience, voluntarily relinquish one of the highest 
 positions on the Press is, I am warned by pre- 
 monitory symptoms, calculated to excite the 
 activity of the gossips. The reason is very simple. 
 I accepted the editorship under considerable pres- 
 sure, greatly against my inclination and distinctly 
 from a feeling of loyalty to the paper with which 
 I have had the honour and advantage of being 
 connected for fourteen years. From the day I 
 first sat in the editor's chair I have hankered after 
 my box in the House of Commons, and now I am 
 going back to it. That is all, 
 
 " It is true that my accession to the editorial 
 chair was contemporary with a political crisis 
 which increased tenfold the ordinary difficulties of 
 the position. The labour has been great and the 
 pressure occasionally overwhelming. But I shall 
 always look back with pleasure upon my brief 
 tenure of office with the reflection that, promptly 
 upon its commencement and consistently through- 
 out its continuance, the Daily News alone among 
 
136 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 London papers, has espoused the cause of the 
 people of Ireland. It is in a minority now ; 
 that has happened to it before. By-and-by the 
 establishment of Home Bule in Ireland will be as 
 absolutely a cQmmonplaee of English politics as is 
 to-day free trade or household suffrage." 
 
 I regarded this as the end of my long con- 
 nection with the Daily News. Kobinson decreed 
 otherwise. He insisted upon my returning to my 
 old place in the Gallery, occupied during my 
 editorship by one of the corps — ^Alexander Paul — 
 whom I had nominated as my successor. Here, 
 again, there was the inevitable action of supplant- 
 ing a man. Paul had done his work admirably, 
 had come to look upon the appointment as a 
 permanency ; and why should I, to serve my 
 private ends, turn him out? Kobinson hand- 
 somely met this objection by promising to find 
 Paul an appointment on the editorial staff which 
 would make him a gainer rather than a loser by 
 the change. 
 
 So at the opening of the Session of 1888, I, 
 with a light heart, went back to my box in the 
 Press Gallery of the House of Commons to draw 
 "Pictures in Parliament" and direct the Parlia- 
 mentary corps. 
 
XV 
 
 A PAGE OP SECRET HISTORY 
 
 Since the conversion of Sir Eobert Peel to Free 
 Trade principles there has been in English history 
 no deeper cleft in a political party than followed 
 upon Mr. Gladstone's nailing the Home Eule flag 
 to the Liberal masthead. The cases are curiously 
 alike, inasmuch as it was the hand of a trusted 
 leader that dealt the fatal blow. 
 
 The main incidents of the story of Mr. Glad- 
 stone's first Home Rule Bill are familiar to the 
 public. Only a select few, dwindling in numbers 
 as Death goes his round of visits, know how 
 nearly the chasm in the Liberal ranks was closed 
 up. There was a day, a very hour, in which had 
 the expected, the absolutely preordained, hap- 
 pened, the Liberal Party would have been reunited 
 under the banner of Mr. Gladstone, there would 
 have been no union of extreme Eadicals with 
 blue-blooded Tories, no seat for Mr. Chamberlain 
 in a Cabinet presided over by the Marquis of 
 Salisbury, no Unionist Party predominant in 
 Britlnlj politics for a period of sixteen years, with 
 the history it wrote in the national annals. 
 
 137 
 
138 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 To make the story clear it should be premised 
 that in mid-December, 1885, a general election 
 having declared for Mr. Gladstone by an over- 
 whelming majority, a bolt suddenly flashed from 
 the blue. The political world was disturbed by 
 publication of a paragraph appearing in a Leeds 
 paper, with which Mr. Herbert Gladstone was 
 known to have personal connexions, not obscurely 
 hinting that the result of the election in Ireland 
 had convinced Mr. Gladstone that, Home Kule 
 being a national demand, it must forthwith be 
 conceded. 
 
 In spite of heavy defeat at the polls Lord 
 Salisbury resolved to meet the new Parliament, 
 and was straightway defeated on an amendment 
 to the Address moved by Mr. Jesse CoUings em- 
 bodying the principle crystallised in the phrase, 
 " Three acres and a cow." Mr. Gladstone, called 
 upon to form a ministry, found himself confronted 
 by the banshee raised by the Leeds newspaper 
 paragraph. Lord Hartington and Sir Henry James, 
 failing to obtain satisfactory assurances on the 
 Home Rule question, declined to take office, the 
 latter for conscience' sake sacrificing the proffered 
 prize of the woolsack, which never again came 
 within his reach. Mr. Chamberlain and Sir George 
 Trevelyan, though restive under the prospect, 
 joined the Cabinet on the assurance that no 
 measure imperilling the unity of the Empire 
 would be introduced. Within a month, having 
 gained fuller information of the Premier's purpose, 
 
A PAGE OE SECRET HISTOEY 139 
 
 they resigned, and Mr. Gladstone found himself 
 confronted by one of the gravest political crises 
 falling within his superlatively long and varied 
 experience. 
 
 All was not yet lost. In the haze that gathers 
 over historic events, even of recent occurrence, it 
 is generally understood that what came to be 
 known as the Liberal Unionist Party was fully 
 created in this earliest hour of the cataclysm that 
 rent the ministerial host. That is not the case. 
 There were two sections of Dissentient Liberals, 
 one represented by Lord Hartington, Mr. Goschen, 
 and Sir Henry James, who would not have Home 
 Eule on any terms ; the other, the Eadical wing, 
 under the lead of Mr. Chamberlain, strengthened 
 by the approval of Mr. Bright. These did not 
 object to the principle of Home Eule per se, but 
 were strenuously opposed to anything which in 
 their opinion would imperil the unity of the 
 Empire. In this condition of things Mr. Glad- 
 stone's keen eye discerned opportunity. With the 
 art of an old Parliamentary hand, he set himself 
 to further divide the enemy and so re-establish 
 his rule. 
 
 In the interval between the introduction of the 
 Bill and the motion for its second reading, a game 
 of intense interest, affecting not only the fortunes 
 of a party, but the destinies of a nation, went 
 on behind closed doors. Ninety-three members 
 returned at the general election pledged to support 
 Mr. Gladstone declared against the Home Eule 
 
140 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Bill. Of these fifty-five were followers of Mr. 
 Chamberlain, thirty-eight recognising their captain 
 in Lord Hartington. If the fifty-five were re- 
 captured, Mr. Gladstone might snap his fingers at 
 the thirty-eight. What was needed to work out 
 that end was an intermediary, trusted alike by 
 Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Chamberlain, Heaven, 
 occasionally timeously bountiful in its gifts, pro- 
 vided Mr. Labouchere. 
 
 I am fortunate in having been made the 
 custodian of a vivid personal narrative of the 
 events immediately preceding the motion for 
 the second reading of the Home Eule Bill, written 
 by the practised hand that up to a critical stage 
 seemed to control them. In process of time, there 
 was brought about a severance of the intimate 
 relations formerly existing between two ultra- 
 Eadicals which explains, and may serve to modify 
 the effect of, any bitterness in the writer's refer- 
 ences to his old familiar friend, Mr. Chamberlain. 
 
 Dating from Old Palace Yard, April 5, 1898, 
 Mr. Labouchere writes : 
 
 " Dear Lucy, — This is for you when a hundred 
 years hence you publish memoirs of these times. 
 There were two negotiations with Joe. The first 
 was this : Gladstone agreed to draw up two 
 clauses, one letting the Irish M.P.s sit on Imperial 
 matters, the other dealing with finance of an 
 Imperial character. This was agreed to at 
 Downing Street by him and his colleagues. I 
 
A PAGE OF SECEET HISTOEY 141 
 
 went to Joe. After some demur he agreed, and I 
 went back to Downing Street with the agreement 
 written by me and dictated by him. Then I left 
 London. The next day was Sunday. On my 
 return I found a man with a note from Joe. He 
 said that he had been deceived, that Gladstone 
 was backing out, for he had told a Pressman on 
 Saturday evening that he had yielded on nothing. 
 
 "I sent for Arnold Morley. This had hap- 
 pened. Joe had at once sent round a telegram 
 with the words ' Absolute surrender.' One he had 
 sent to O'Shea, who showed it to Parnell, and 
 thus it came to Gladstone. But Parnell had 
 been consulted and therefore merely sent it to 
 show what a rascal Joe was. Gladstone being 
 cross made the observation to the Pressman as a 
 reply to Joe. He was at Glyn's house, at Sheen, 
 and we sent a man on horseback to find out 
 what I was to say to Joe. The reply was that it 
 was true he had agreed to the two alterations ; 
 that he certainly would draw up the first amend- 
 ment himself, but that as he had not made out 
 the second, how could he say that he could draw 
 it up ? But if Joe would he had no doubt that 
 he (G.) would accept it. 
 
 " I went with this to Joe. He said that it 
 was a shirk, and that G. meant to say that he 
 would not accept the amendment. Both got cross, 
 and the arrangement lapsed. Joe was foolish in 
 sending the telegram, but I always thought that 
 G. was most in fault. He did so hate Joe. 
 
142 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 "When later on there was a meeting of the 
 Party at the F.O., Joe wrote me a letter for G. in 
 which he said that, unless the Irish sat in Parlia- 
 ment, he was pledged against the Bill. I gave this 
 to G. He read out a statement of what he would 
 do. It was vague. I was sitting by Whitehead, 
 and got him to get up and say, ' Then we under- 
 stand that the Irish will sit.' G. glared at me 
 and said, ' I do not understand the technicalities of 
 drafting, so I will read again what I am prepared 
 to do.' In fact, he would not admit that he had 
 yielded. 
 
 " After this there was a meeting of M.P.S 
 inclined to go against the Bill. It was engineered 
 by Caine. They first passed a resolution that all 
 would act together. Then a letter from Bright 
 was read. I, having heard result, went to the 
 Eeform Club. There I found Bright, who eagerly 
 asked what the meeting had decided. I said to 
 vote against the Bill. He said that he regretted 
 this. When I told him that it was due to his 
 letter, he replied that he had only said that he 
 should himself vote against the BUI. I reminded 
 him that he had previously told me that he would 
 vote neither way. He answered that he had been 
 insulted by Sexton. I asked him to give me the 
 letter for publication. He agreed to do so, but 
 found that he had no copy. Just then Caine came 
 in, and he said to him, ' Give Labouchere my 
 letter to publish.' Then he went out of the room. 
 Caine refused to do this, and my impression always 
 
A PAGE OF SECEET HISTOEY 143 
 
 has been that only a portion of the letter was 
 read. 
 
 "I several times told Joe afterwards that G. 
 would make things right in his speech winding up 
 the debate on the second reading. G. said he 
 would. The day came. Joe sat behind me, and 
 a member was to be put up to accept (I forget 
 his name). G. said nothing definite. Joe cursed 
 him, and went on saying to me, for he sat just 
 behind, 'You hear.' When his speech was over, 
 I begged a Whip to go to Gladstone to tell 
 him that he had said nothing definite and asked 
 whether it was to be understood that the Irish 
 were to sit ? He replied that that was what he 
 meant. I told the Whip to go back and tell 
 him that by his ambiguity in the House he had 
 lost his Bill. On this there was despair. I was 
 asked to find out whether Joe would receive 
 Herschell. He refused, and said that he would 
 have no more negotiations and should vote against 
 the Bill. It was never clearly agreed that the 
 Bill after the second reading should be shelved, 
 but this was the intention, 
 
 " So now you have the facts for future genera- 
 tions. Such a lot of babies as Gladstone, Morley, 
 Joe, and Bright I never came across. To a certain 
 extent Gladstone was influenced by the idea that 
 if defeated he would sweep the country on a dis- 
 solution. But he never could quite make up his 
 mind to yield one inch to Joe. He was ready to 
 to do what was wanted to secure the votes of Joe 
 
144 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 and his friends. But this was to be understood, 
 in order to avoid having actually yielded in so 
 many words." 
 
 I am further fortunate in being able to com- 
 plete the narrative from the lips of an important 
 witness drawn from the other side. Mr. W. S, 
 Caine, to whose activity in the business Mr. 
 Labouchere bears testimony, was the Chief Whip 
 of the Liberal Unionist Party. Mr. Chamberlain 
 selected him for the post whilst the Kadical section 
 stood alone, and he retained it when, in the 
 dramatic circumstances related by Mr. Labouchere, 
 the sections were bound together with a force that 
 in due time become solidly and firmly amalga- 
 mated with the Conservative Party under the 
 Premiership of Lord Salisbury. Later, Mr. Caine, 
 like Sir George Trevelyan and some others, re- 
 turned to the Liberal fold, his personal esteem 
 and admiration for Mr. Chamberlain not fully 
 surviving the changed circumstances. 
 
 "Writing on April 25, 1898, Mr. Caine says — 
 
 "In the first week of April, 1886, Labouchere 
 constituted himself a friendly broker between 
 Gladstone and Chamberlain. At the time I urged 
 Chamberlain not to employ him, but to refuse 
 any negotiation that was not conducted by an 
 old Cabinet colleague. I named Lord Herschell 
 as the most suitable man. However, my advice 
 was not taken, and the negotiations were entered 
 into. 
 
A PAGE OF SECEET HISTORY 145 
 
 " Lord Hartingtou was not in the negotiations 
 at all, and my impression is that he knew nothing 
 about them. It was simply the Chamberlain 
 group who would have been squared. 
 
 " On April 7, Labouchere brought his negoti- 
 ations to a conclusion. Gladstone was to concede 
 the retention of the Irish members. I was to rise 
 immediately afterwards and say a few platitudes, 
 giving Chamberlain time to consider the conces- 
 sions made, and deal with them in a formal 
 speech later on. However, the G.O.M. went on 
 and on, and not a word was said. He sat down 
 without making the smallest concession, much to 
 our astonishment and dismay. Labouchere, who 
 was sitting just below me, turned round as 
 Gladstone sat down, and made the characteristic 
 remark, which has remained in my memory ever 
 since — ' Isn't the old man a thimble-rigger 1 ' 
 
 " It soon leaked out that the negotiations had 
 fallen through. Chamberlain told Captain O'Shea 
 all about them. Captain O'Shea told Parnell. 
 Parnell went storming down to Downing Street 
 about two o'clock in the afternoon and knocked 
 the whole arrangement into pie. These are the 
 simple facts of that particular episode, which was 
 a little private intrigue of Chamberlain's own. I 
 feel quite sure that Harfcington knew nothing 
 about it, had nothing to do with it, and would 
 never have consented to it. It would only have 
 secured the adhesion of the Chamberlain group. 
 This would, however, have shaken the solidarity 
 
146 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 of the hundred stalwarts, and I think would have 
 enabled Gladstone to pass the BiU by a majority 
 of three or four. 
 
 " Two or three days before the final division — 
 I forget the, exact date — an offer came practically 
 from Mr. Gladstone, agreeing to withdraw the 
 Bill at once, if he got his second reading, recast 
 it and reintroduce it in the following year. A 
 private meeting of the Liberal Unionist section 
 was convened by me in Committee room No. 15, 
 to consider whether we should accept this com- 
 promise and vote for the Bill. 
 
 "I had to see Bright about it. He would 
 never come to the House. I used to go to him 
 at the Eeform Club every evening at nine o'clock, 
 and tell him what had gone on during the day. 
 I saw him about this meeting and begged him to 
 come to it. This, however, he would not do. I 
 asked him to write a letter, which he did. This 
 letter I read to the meeting. It was simply to 
 the effect that personally he objected to the com- 
 promise, but he would fall in with the decision 
 arrived at by the meeting. 
 
 " There was, of course, a prolonged discussion. 
 The man who was bitterest against any com- 
 promise, and most determined that the Bill should 
 be thrown out, was not Bright, but George 
 Trevelyan, who made a vehement speech which 
 undoubtedly settled the line that the meeting 
 took. We declined the compromise, and voted 
 against the Bill. 
 
A PAGE OP SECEBT HISTOEY 147 
 
 "I did not keep Bright's letter. It was in 
 great demand, as you may well imagine. I tore 
 it into little bits and left it on the floor of the 
 Committee room, without taking any copy. One 
 enterprising journalist ofi"ered me a hundred pounds 
 for it. 
 
 " I still believe that if Chamberlain had taken 
 my advice, and refused to negotiate through such 
 a born intriguer and dodger as Labouchere, and 
 negotiated in the open through the medium of 
 Herschell, or some other member of the Cabinet, 
 the whole current of history would have been 
 changed ; but Chamberlain himself is a born in- 
 triguer, and loves it dearly. He and Hartington 
 were never very cordial at that time, Hartington 
 being always afraid that Chamberlain would sell 
 the pass." 
 
 It will be observed that Mr. Caine is insistent 
 on the fact, interesting to the future historian of 
 the epoch, that Lord Hartington was not only no 
 party to the negotiation with IVIr. Gladstone that 
 almost succeeded in healing the breach in the 
 Liberal Party, but was absolutely ignorant of what 
 was going forward. In a letter addressed to me Lord 
 James of Hereford puts the case with character- 
 istic lucidity and moderation. " In the early part 
 of 1886," he writes, "the Liberal Unionist Party 
 had not settled down into the form it afterwards 
 assumed. Mr. Chamberlain and Sir George 
 Trevelyan, as you will recollect, accepted oflB.ce 
 
148 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 under Mr. Gladstone. It was not till after their 
 resignation that the Radical section of the Liberal 
 Unionists developed their full strength. Thus it 
 came to pass that during a portion of the spring 
 and early §ummer of 1886 Lord Hartington was 
 not acting in the close alliance with Mr, Chamber- 
 lain which afterwards existed." 
 
 By a striking coincidence the eventful meeting 
 of Mr. Chamberlain's following, summoned at the 
 last moment to decide what course they would 
 take on the motion for the second reading of the 
 Home Rule BUI, was held in Committee room 
 No. 15, later the scene of the disruption of the 
 Parnellites and the deposition of their chief. 
 Fifty-five members obeyed the summons. They 
 held ia the palm of their hand the fate of the 
 Ministry. If they rallied to their old leader, the 
 second reading of the Home Rule Bill would be 
 carried. If they walked out without voting, it 
 would creep through. If they voted against it 
 the Bill must go, with it the great Leader, and 
 a ministry but yesterday nominated as a result of 
 overwhelming triumph at the polls. 
 
 I was told by one present that Mr. Chamberlain 
 submitted the issue in a manner the gravity of 
 which indicated conception of its momentous im- 
 portance, and in a judicial tone that befitted the 
 occasion. Doubtless without intentional irony he 
 adopted the method Mr. Gladstone made familiar 
 at great crises. There were, he said, three courses 
 open to them. They might support the second 
 
A PAGE OF SECEET HISTOEY 149 
 
 reading of tlie Bill ; they might vote against it ; 
 they might abstain from voting. He declined to 
 take the responsibility of advocacy of one or other, 
 confining himself to brief summary of what would 
 follow on adoption of the several courses. He 
 suggested that, in order to arrive at unmistakable 
 decision by the broadest process, they should take 
 a second ballot. 
 
 On the first division, of the fifty-five silently 
 and solemnly taking part in it, thirty-nine voted 
 against the second reading, three declared in 
 favour of it, whilst thirteen stood aside. On the 
 second ballot, the three who voted for the second 
 reading — on the understanding conveyed by Mr. 
 Gladstone at a meeting of the Liberal Party held 
 at the Foreign Office on May 27, that the Bill 
 would thereafter be dropped, to be brought in again 
 the following year, minus the clause excluding Irish 
 members from Westminster — stood to their guns. 
 Of the abstainers, nine went over to the majority, 
 and the fate of the Government was sealed. 
 
 At one o'clock on the morning of June 8, 1886, 
 the division was called, and by a majority of thirty 
 in a House of 656 members the Home Rule Bill 
 was thrown out. Of the 345 members who achieved 
 this stroke, only 250 were Conservatives, a number 
 impotent to withstand the rush of the crusade 
 led by Mr. Gladstone. It was the ninety-three 
 Dissentient Liberals, the united forces of Mr. 
 Chamberlain and Lord Hartington, who turned the 
 scale. 
 
XVI 
 
 THE DTTNMOW FLITCH 
 
 October 29, 1873, I count as the most fortunate 
 day of my life. Upon it I married the daughter 
 of my old schoolmaster, an acquaintance going 
 back to childhood. Whatever measure of success 
 I have obtained in life is largely owing to her 
 counsel, example, and inspiration. 
 
 On September 14, 1897, the following paragraph 
 appeared in the Daily News : — 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs, Henry Lucy yesterday visited 
 Dunmow. Inquiry into the circumstances and 
 conditions of their married life satisfying the 
 requirements of the ancient institutions, they were 
 awarded a flitch of bacon. The presentation was 
 made by Mr. John Aird, M.P., in a graceful speech." 
 
 The announcement had a remarkable run 
 through town and country papers. Sir Wilfrid 
 Lawson, even more ready than Mr. Silas Wegg, 
 dropped into poetry — 
 
 " And is it true that you have gained 
 The Matrimonial laurel. 
 And have you all these years remained 
 Without a single quarrel. 
 
 150 
 
THE DUNMOW FLITCH 151 
 
 " No ripple on the glassy sea, 
 No breeze upon the air, 
 No bitter in the cup of tea, 
 To discompose the pair ? 
 
 " How very good you both must be 
 As life's sweet flowers you cull. 
 But was it not — oh ! tell to me — 
 Just, just a little dull ? " 
 
 Sir Charles M'Laren, less accustomed to woo 
 the muses, was also led astray — 
 
 " For wedded lives without a hitch 
 Old Dunmow cures the tasty flitch ; 
 So at the feast for them prepared. 
 And blessed by bounteous Father Aird, 
 Our Lucys, who the genial cake 
 For mirth and kindness ever take, 
 Now, for their lovers' faith unshaken. 
 In triumph carry off the bacon." 
 
 Phil May drew an exquisite sketch showing 
 me riding off triumphantly on pig-back. Most 
 amusing in the multitude of commentaries on the 
 event was the remark of a Press Gallery man of 
 the old school joining in conversation on the topic 
 in the Smoking Eoom. 
 
 " Always the way," he remarked grufiiy, puffing 
 at his pipe. " To him that hath shall be given. 
 Lucy can afford to pay for flitches of bacon. 
 There's many a better fellow has to buy it by the 
 pound ; yet he gets the flitch." 
 
152 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 A pleasing communication evoked by the in- 
 cident was a letter written from Sir Charles and 
 Lady M'Laren's country house in Denbighshire. 
 The writer, sister of John Bright, mother of Sir 
 Charles M'Laren, was one of the sweetest-natured, 
 daintiest-mannered ladies I was ever privileged to 
 know. In face she was beautiful. In spite of her 
 many years her mind was as alert, her interest in 
 afiairs as keen, as if she were stUl thirty. She 
 wrote to a friend in Edinburgh — 
 
 " Mr. and Mrs. Lucy are here. Don't you 
 remember how interested we were two years ago 
 in reading of their having won the Dunmow Flitch 
 of Bacon, and thinking it showed much moral 
 courage in claiming it? But / can understand 
 now how they claimed and won it. 
 
 " They have between them a beautiful and 
 interesting combination of mental conditions, such 
 as go to make the wheels of daily life go smoothly 
 round. 
 
 " Mrs. L. has a most sweet, unselfish nature — 
 whilst her husband can relieve the seriousness of 
 life by intelligent and intellectual humour. He is 
 gifted intellectually, as you know, and she exerts a 
 refining spiritual influence over all. This latter 
 quality has been very sweet and comforting to me 
 in the conversations I have had with her. In 
 short, I have felt it a privilege to be here with 
 them, though regretting much that the need of 
 rest after some months of entertaining at home 
 
THE DUNMOW FLITCH 153 
 
 has necessitated my keeping my own room a good 
 deal — a real self-denial for me, as you may 
 suppose. Your friend, Sir Wilfrid Lawson, judged 
 wrongly. There can be no dullness in such, a life. 
 There can be great and pleasing variety without 
 the unpleasantness of opposition." 
 
 After this it is painful to be obliged to confess 
 that the whole thing was a hoax. What really 
 happened was that, in accordance with custom 
 extending over many years, we were spending a 
 week in the autumn with Sir John and Lady Aird. 
 He had no country house, but was accustomed 
 early in the year to make a selection out of man- 
 sions in the market for temporary occupation. As 
 soon as arrangements were made, he hospitably 
 engaged us for a week's stay. In this year he 
 found his rest-house in Essex, not far distant from 
 Dunmow, famous chiefly for its ancient custom of 
 bestowing a prize of a flitch of bacon upon a couple 
 who can vow that their married life has been undis- 
 turbed by quarrelsome words. One afternoon we 
 drove thither. John Aird pulled up the carriage 
 at a grocer's shop, entered and presently returned, 
 accompanied by an aproned man carrying a flitch 
 of bacon. This, Sir John, with bared head, and, 
 as the paragraph lapsing into truth says, in a 
 graceful speech presented to Mrs. Lucy. 
 
 How these things get into the papers, I know 
 no more than did Mr. Crummies when he read in 
 the local sheet a paragraph extolling the gifts of 
 
154 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 his theatrical company, and making light of 
 Charles Kean, or Phelps, in comparison with its 
 manager. There are thousands of people, in 
 addition to my friend of the Press Gallery, who 
 to this day firmly believe that Mrs. Lucy and I 
 submitted ourselves and our case to the ancient 
 tribunal at Dunmow, and won the flitch of bacon 
 against all comers. 
 
XVII 
 
 FEED BURNABY 
 
 I MET Fred Burnaby up in a balloon, forming an 
 acquaintance rapidly ripening into friendship that 
 lasted to the day of his untimely death at Abu 
 Klea. The date was the autumn of 1874. Some 
 weeks earlier a couple of French aeronauts, M. and 
 Madame Durouf, had arranged to make an ascent 
 from Calais. The wind was high, blowing out 
 across the Channel. If they mounted their fate 
 was inevitable. They would be driven out to sea 
 with little chance of escape from drowning. They 
 wanted to postpone the ascent, but maddened by 
 the jeers of the throng who had paid for admission 
 to the grounds whence ascent was to be made, 
 they entered the car, the ropes were loosened, and 
 the balloon was soon over the sea and out of sight. 
 Dropping into the water the passengers were 
 happily rescued by a passing boat, and brought 
 to an English port. Arrangements were subse- 
 quently made for an ascent from the grounds of 
 the Crystal Palace, and all the world went down 
 to see them off. 
 
 Having lately joined the staff of the Daily 
 
 155 
 
156 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 News, and anxious to distinguish myself, I re- 
 solved to accompany them. Unfortunately the 
 idea had occurred to many others. When I 
 approached Mr. Coxwell with a five-pound note in 
 profiered payment of the fare, he, with many 
 protestations of regret, informed me there was no 
 room. Every available seat in the car had been 
 taken and paid for in advance. This was dis- 
 appointing, there being left for me nothing but 
 the commonplace task of describing the ascent 
 from the safety of terra firma. In quite a new 
 reading of the saying, the wind was tempered to 
 the shorn lamb. Just before the balloon was 
 timed to start a storm sprang up. The great globe 
 of silk swayed hither and thither in fearsome 
 fashion. Mr. Glaisher, who was in charge of the 
 expedition, looking at the darkening sky, sniffing 
 the growing storm, put his veto upon Madame 
 Durouf joining the voyagers. 
 
 " We are not in France," he said. " An English 
 crowd will not insist upon a woman facing danger 
 for their amusement. The voyage will be rough, the 
 descent perilous, so Madame had better stay with us." 
 
 If Madame was not going, there would be room 
 for me. I pointed this out to Mr. Coxwell, but he 
 was inexorable. He held in his hand a list of at 
 least thirty people who had booked seats. When 
 everything was ready, the French aeronaut and 
 Mr. Coxwell's assistant aboard, the list of names 
 was called aloud. Only the wind howlinsr amons 
 the trees made answer. 
 
PEED BUENABY 157 
 
 "II faut partir," said M. Durof, looking 
 anxiously at the angry sky. A middle-aged 
 gentleman wko had come to town from Cambridge, 
 and early secured his seat, fearlessly took it. I 
 followed, making myself as scarce as possible at 
 the bottom of the car. Then tumbled in a hand- 
 some fellow, six feet four in height, broad-chested 
 to boot. I remember wondering when he would 
 finish getting his full length in. 
 
 This was Fred Burnaby, at the time ranking as 
 Captain in the Horse Guards Blue, unknown to 
 fame outside the barracks, with Khiva unap- 
 proached, the wilds of Asia Minor untrodden by his 
 horse's hoofs. He told me later he had run down 
 to see the ascent, and was strolling about the 
 grounds in company with Musurus Pasha, the 
 Turkish Minister. When the defection of the daunt- 
 less thirty was apparent, he instantly seized the 
 situation. If they didn't go there would be room 
 for him. Shouldering his way through the crowd, 
 he got aboard the car just as the ropes were 
 let go, and the balloon with a mighty rush soared 
 upwards. He had arranged a dinner party at his 
 rooms in St. James's Street that night. How 
 they fared I forgot to ask. Certainly Burnaby was 
 not with them, being at the appointed dinner hour 
 seated with me in a tumble-down market cart, as 
 we made our way after our aerial voyage through 
 an Essex lane towards the nearest railway station. 
 As things turned out, we had a delightful trip, 
 rising to a height of 3000 feet clear of the storm. 
 
158 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 It was in the following year that Burnaby 
 made his famous " Ride to Khiva." I have before 
 me as I write an early copy of the fascinating 
 story. In his almost illegible handwriting it is 
 inscribed, " H. Lucy, Esqre, from his sincere friend 
 the author. *Oct. 27, 1876." Under this pen-and- 
 ink blotch is written, happily in pencil, "Two 
 maps still to come." 
 
 His next book, " On Horseback through Asia 
 Minor," for the publication of which I arranged 
 with Sampson Low, is inscribed, "To Mrs. Lucy, 
 from her sincere friend the author. November 4, 
 1877." It is pretty to see how Burnaby, address- 
 ing a lady, with instinctive politeness makes 
 desperate effort to write legibly, and almost suc- 
 ceeds. On ordinary occasions his letters and MS. 
 suggested that they were written with a skewer 
 dipped in a blacking pot. On all his journeys save 
 the last, which ended at Abu Klea, he brought 
 Mrs. Lucy a present from the far-off land. We 
 still have, to all appearances as good as new, a 
 table-cloth, silk-embroidered, he bought for her in 
 a bazaar in Asia Minor. To me, on return from 
 the same journey, he presented a cigarette-holder 
 of rare silver filigree work, with mouthpiece of 
 flawless amber. 
 
 It was at his table I first sat at meat with Lord 
 Eandolph Churchill. On the eve of departure of 
 Mrs. Lucy and myself in 1883 on a journey round 
 the world, Burnaby gave, at the Junior Carlton 
 Club, a farewell dinner in my honour. He told me 
 
PEED BDENABY 159 
 
 lie had shown Lord Eandolph the list of the company 
 and asked him whom he would like to sit next to. 
 
 " Between Lucy and Burnand," he replied. So 
 it was arranged, and a jolly evening we spent, 
 Eandolph being at his very best. 
 
 As a souvenir Buxnaby presented me with a 
 costly walking-stick picked up during a recent visit 
 to Spain. Unfortunately I took it with me on the 
 tour, but not further than St. Louis. Leaving it 
 with my hat and coat on a chair in the dining-room 
 whilst we lunched, on going to seek my belongings 
 I found the precious stick had departed. 
 
 The last glimpse I caught of Burnaby was as he 
 stood at the gate of his ancestral home, Somerby 
 Hall, in Leicestershire. We had been spending a 
 week with him, and on the invitation of our 
 mutual friend Doetsch, who brought the Eio Tinto 
 Mine property to England and remained one of its 
 directors, it was arranged that in the winter we 
 three — Mrs. Lucy, Burnaby, and myself — should 
 go out to Spain as his guests. Before the ap- 
 pointed time came the war trumpet sounded from 
 the Soudan, and Burnaby was off at its call. It was 
 September, 1884, we were his guests at Somerby 
 Hall. In November he started for the seat of war. 
 
 At first he was engaged in superintending the 
 movement of troops between Tanjour and Magrakeh, 
 but he ever pined to get into the fighting line. In 
 a letter, dated Christmas Eve, 1884, he writes : " I 
 don't expect the last boat will pass the Cataract 
 before the middle of next month, and then I hope 
 
160 SIXTY TEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 to be sent to the front. It is a responsible post 
 Lord Wolseley has given me here, with forty miles 
 of the most difficult part of the river, and I am 
 very grateful to him for letting me have it. But I 
 must say I shall be better pleased if he sends for 
 me when the troops advance upon Khartoum." 
 
 The order came in due course, and Burnaby 
 was riding to the relief of Gordon when his 
 journey was stopped at Abu Klea. He was 
 attached to the Staff of General Stewart, whose 
 little force of 1800 men was suddenly surrounded 
 by a herd of Dervishes 9000 strong. The British 
 troops formed in square, mounted officers directing 
 the desperate defence that again and again beat 
 back the angry torrent. A soldier in the excite- 
 ment of the moment got outside the square and 
 engaged in hand-to-hand conflict with a cluster of 
 Arabs. Burnaby, seeing his peril, rode out to the 
 rescue — " with a smile on his face,' ' as one who saw 
 him tells me — and was making irresistible way 
 against the odds, when a Dervish thrust a spear in 
 his throat, and he fell off his horse dead. 
 
 Among his comrades was Lord Charles Beresford, 
 who writes : 
 
 "With regard to the reminiscences you ask me 
 for, of my old friend Fred Burnaby — I remember 
 just getting up to where he was encamped before 
 proceeding across Biouda Desert on Christmas Eve. 
 Lord Wolseley had sent for me to take charge of 
 the Naval Brigade, so as to man the Gordon 
 
FEED BUENABt 161 
 
 steamer, whicli we supposed would meet us at 
 Matemah. Burnaby managed to get a plum- 
 pudding from somewhere. We liad our Christmas 
 dinner, and a cheery night we had. I started at 
 4 o'clock the next morni'ng. 
 
 " The next time I saw Burnaby was when the 
 forlorn hope formed up to go across Biouda Desert 
 for the relief of Gordon. He was full of fun and 
 banter. Before Abu Klea, he and I made a zareba, 
 thinking the people would attack us at night. The 
 enemy came very close with their tom-toms, but 
 they never attacked. It was an exciting night. 
 We could hear the tramp of the Mahdi's hosts close 
 by, and listened to the beating of the tom-toms, 
 often furiously hurried, sometimes reduced to a 
 single beat similar to that of a heart. They drew 
 off before daylight. 
 
 " The next day we left the zareba, formed up 
 and left for Abu Klea. In the morning the hills 
 were full of riflemen, and we were losing men and 
 camels. I had my men lying down under a little 
 wall of stones which I ordered them to build, firing 
 at the Dervishes on one of the hills nearest us. 
 Burnaby and Stewart, attended by a soldier carry- 
 ing the Union Jack, were on a little mole about 
 eighty yards from the hollow where I and my 
 men were standing up. I heard the thud of a 
 bullet. I think it was the busier or one of the 
 soldiers who was killed. I was going towards 
 Stewart and Burnaby to beg them to dismount 
 and put down the flag when a bullet killed 
 
 M 
 
162 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Burnaby's horse, and seut him rolling down the 
 hillock. 
 
 " He picked himself up, and I asked him if he 
 was hit. All he said was : ' My dear Charlie, I am 
 not in luck to-day.' I persuaded Stewart to get off 
 his horse and not to make a mark for the Mahdi's 
 riflemen. We then formed up and marched down 
 towards Abu Klea. 
 
 " We got some breakfast before we started. I 
 remember the incident well because my Maltese 
 interpreter, who looked after me, was boiling some 
 coffee in a tin pannikin over a little fire made of 
 bits of stick. A bullet came into the fire and 
 knocked the coffee to Ballyhooly, sending it all over 
 him. He bellowed like a bull, and said : ' Why 
 these people fire at me, sir, I never do these people 
 any harm ? ' 
 
 " We formed up, marched to Abu Klea, when 
 we were attacked by about 8000 people on our left 
 flank. I caught sight of Burnaby on his horse 
 outside the square, within about forty yards of 
 where I was standing at the machine-gun before 
 the charge. Every one at the gun was killed 
 except myself. The next I saw of poor Fred 
 Burnaby he was lying on his back, cut to pieces, 
 at about the place where I had last seen him alive." 
 
 Archibald Forbes sent me in fuller detail a 
 vivid word picture of an episode which, in the 
 hurried march and the catastrophe looming over 
 Khartoum, received at the time but scant record — • 
 
PEED BUENABY 163 
 
 " Burnaby's position immediately before his 
 sally from the square at Abu Klea was on the left 
 face of the square near the rear corner. The men 
 at his back were the detachment of Eoyal Dragoons 
 (my own old regiment) belonging to the Heavy 
 Camel Corps. As the skirmishers came running 
 in, the last couple of them were hard pressed by 
 the pursuing Arabs, and two of them were killed. 
 Burnaby rode out a little way to the assistance of 
 the in-running skirmishers, his only arm being his 
 sword — he had left his double-barrelled gun with 
 his servant inside the square. His own horse had 
 been shot that morning, and he was riding a 
 screw borrowed from the 19th Hussar detachment. 
 He rode straight at a mounted Sheikh chasing a 
 skirmisher with levelled spear. At sight of him, 
 the Arab changed direction and made for Burnaby. 
 
 " Just as they were closing a young soldier 
 named Laporte sent a bullet through the Arab, 
 who fell with a crash. A foot spear's-man 
 promptly darted on Burnaby, pointing at his 
 throat the broad, sharp blade of his eight-foot long 
 spear. Burnaby parried, and wounded the Moslem. 
 The duel between them continued for above a 
 minute, Burnaby cutting, pointing, and parrying, 
 the supple Arab lunging vicious thrusts at the big 
 British officer fast in the saddle. A second Arab, 
 darting by in pursuit of a skirmisher, with a sudden 
 turn ran his spear into Burnaby's right shoulder 
 from behind. A soldier darted out and bayoneted 
 this man. Burnaby glanced over his shoulder for 
 
164 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 a second at the transaction, and in that second his 
 first antagonist dashed his spear full into Burnaby's 
 throat. He fell from the saddle, the blood spurt- 
 ing from the jugular ; as he sank the Arab stabbed 
 him a second time, and he lay prone. 
 
 "A rush of Arabs were upon him. He had 
 strength enough to struggle to his feet, and with 
 the blood pouring from his gashed throat, he 
 whirled his sword around him till he fell dead. 
 Young Laporte sprang to his aid, and got so near 
 that his sleeve was wet with Burnaby's blood. 
 But he could give no efficient assistance, and was 
 lucky in being able to return to the square. 
 
 "During the Nile Campaign, Sir William 
 Gordon-Cumming wrote constantly to the Prince 
 of Wales, describing the progress of the campaign. 
 Some of those letters I have seen. In the letter 
 describing Abu Klea, Gumming tells of Burnaby's 
 death, and how he ran out in hope to bring his 
 wounded comrade in. Three of the Arabs who 
 had been hacking at Burnaby came at Gumming. 
 ' One of these,' wrote Gumming, ' I bowled over 
 with a bullet through the stomach from my 
 revolver. Before starting on the desert march I 
 had my sword ground as sharp as a razor. When 
 the second man neared me, I cut his head clean off 
 with one blow. Number three dodged, and as I 
 was following him, he was shot dead by a bullet 
 fired from the square.' 
 
 " When Burnaby arrived at Korti, Wolseley 
 appointed him first to the Intelligence Department, 
 
FEED BUENABY 165 
 
 and later to a position on his own staff. After 
 Stewart had gone forward to Jakdul, Wolseley 
 bethought himself of possible contingencies, and 
 sent up Burnaby with about one hundred camels 
 to join Stewart, and with Wolseley's order in his 
 pocket to take command in case of casualty to 
 Stewart. Meanwhile, he was not to be on Stewart's 
 staff, but as the expression is in the German army 
 and in our diplomatic service, en disponibilite, and 
 he devoted himself to the Intelligence Service. On 
 the night before Abu Klea Stewart gave him com- 
 mand of a section of the square, which constituted 
 him in effect Brigadier-General for the time. He 
 was thus acting Brigadier-General when he was 
 killed." 
 
 He sleeps now, as he always yearned to rest, 
 ia a soldier's grave, dug by chance on the Dark 
 Continent whose innermost recesses he hoped some 
 day to explore. The date of his death is January 17, 
 1885. His grave is nameless. Its place in the 
 lonely desert no man knoweth. 
 
XVIII 
 
 A HAUNTED TABLE 
 
 In accordance with one of the rules on which the 
 constitution of the Eeform Club is based, the 
 Political Committee are permitted once a year to 
 elect, without ballot, two gentlemen " who have 
 proved their attachment to the Liberal cause by 
 marked and obvious services rendered to it." 
 Twenty-six years ago the committee did me the 
 honour of electing me, so averting the risk of 
 the ballot-box, and dispensing with the occasion- 
 ally prolonged delay of coming up for the poll. 
 Thus was made a coveted opening into what, 
 with wide experience of hospitality elsewhere, I 
 regard as the best club in London — ^the most 
 home-like, the most fully equipped with suste- 
 nance, whether provided from the kitchen and the 
 cellar, or found in the splendid library. 
 
 A certain table in the dining-room is haunted 
 by precious memories. A quarter of a century 
 ago there began to frequent it a little coterie 
 numbering from six to eight. At most five could 
 be seated at luncheon. On the daily average 
 room for four sufficed. The little club within a 
 
 166 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 167 
 
 club had no prescriptive right to . this or any- 
 other table. But possession was courteously 
 recognised. A member, not being one of the 
 little set, would as soon have thought of seating 
 himself at the desk of the head waiter as of 
 appropriating one of the chairs at this little table 
 by the window. 
 
 Up to a period so recent as four years 
 ago remnants of the Old Guard still gathered 
 round it for the midday luncheon though with 
 saddened memories of unforgotten faces, well- 
 remembered voices. Here through many years 
 sat James Payn, his kindly humour, flashing wit, 
 irradiating the table talk. Next to him was 
 spectacled William Black, not nearly so sombre as 
 he looked. Most frequently the odd man at the 
 end of the table, George Augustus Sala, habitually 
 a late comer, poured forth a flood of commentary 
 upon a world about which his knowledge was 
 extensive and peculiar. Opposite James Payn, 
 through thirty years of unremitting attendance, 
 sat J. E. Kobinson, in his last years modestly, 
 but with just satisfaction, bearing the title Sir 
 John. 
 
 On Kobinson's right hand sat Wemyss Eeid, 
 who also in time came to be knighted. Originally 
 on the Parliamentary staff of the Standard, Eeid 
 went to Leeds as editor of the Mercury, which 
 he had served for many years as London corre- 
 spondent. He had a wide and intimate acquaintance 
 with leading men of the Liberal Party. Of 
 
168 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 one, W. E. Forster, he wrote a biography which 
 ranks high in its class of literature. He also 
 wrote his own, which inexplicably fell short of 
 reasonable expectation. He often spoke to me 
 about the work as it grew in his hands. 
 
 " It will make some of them sit up," he used 
 to say, his shoulders shaking with the laughter of 
 anticipatory glee. 
 
 Possibly, owing to exigencies arising out of 
 the date of publication, it may have been edited 
 with discreet severity. It is understood there is a 
 second volume in existence which will supply more 
 spicy reading. 
 
 In the height of his success as a novelist, 
 William Black took up his residence at Brighton, 
 and was not found regularly at his old place at 
 the Table. When in town he invariably turned 
 up for luncheon, with its pint of champagne, as 
 indispensable as was Tennyson's " perfect pint of 
 port." He had chambers in Buckingham Street, 
 whither, after dinner at the Reform, or on chance 
 meeting at some other hospitable board, it was 
 his custom to carry off a few friends who sat far 
 into the night, chatting over pipes and cigars, 
 comforted by the knowledge that in the recesses 
 of the sideboard were whisky and soda galore. 
 The last time I saw Black, an old colleague on 
 the Daily News, we foregathered at a dinner in the 
 city, given, I think, by a firm or society of 
 publishers. There were a few toasts. I remember 
 the reply of that to Literature was committed to 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 169 
 
 the charge of a voluminous contributor to what is, 
 or used to be, known as the " Kailyard School of 
 Fiction." The author of "A Princess of Thule" 
 and " A Daughter of Heth " did not make any 
 remark on this strange preference. Coming from 
 such authoritative quarter, it struck me as a 
 curious slight upon an Old Master. 
 
 Most of his letters to me are undated as to 
 the year, and nearly all touch on his passionate 
 pleasure in fishing — 
 
 "Paston House, Paston Place, Bri&hton, 
 
 "Feb. 29. 
 "My dear Lucy, 
 
 " I shall be delighted to dine with you 
 on the 13 th, and I will try not to look too elated 
 — the fact being that it's on the very next day, 
 the 14th as ever was, that I hope to start away 
 north for six weeks' salmon fishing, and with no 
 work to bother me till the following May. But 
 of course I wouldn't say such a thing to those poor 
 wretches up from the House : it shall be a dark 
 secret. 
 
 " I hope Mrs. Lucy is very well : please present 
 my kind regards and remembrances. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "William Black." 
 
 "Langwell Lodge by Laieg, N.B., 
 "March 10. 
 " My dear Lucy, 
 
 " It is indeed kind of you to send me not 
 only one invitation but a choice of two ; and I 
 
170 ■ SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 am exceedingly chagrmed that I cannot accept 
 either. I remain here till the end of April — that 
 is to say, if there is a chance of getting away 
 then. At present we are entirely entombed. K 
 you have auy means of communicating with Dr. 
 Nansen, you might tell him he may as well 
 abandon his expedition to the North Pole. I am 
 there. When we got up here, we were welcomed 
 by a series of howling gales and hurricanes — snow, 
 sleet, and blinding hail ; and now everything is 
 frozen up and white and hard, and the cold intense. 
 And where does the fishing come in ? There ain't 
 no fishing. But at least I have a companion — who 
 walks up and down the room singing ' The Lost 
 Chord' at the pitch of his voice and all out of 
 tune. So you may imagine that I have to give 
 up the idea of a snug evening in Queen's Mansions 
 with something like regret. 
 
 " Very kind regards to Mrs. Lucy, 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "William Black. 
 
 " P.S. — If ever I do get a salmon — But what 
 is the use of talking about it ! " 
 
 "Langwell Lodge by Lairg, N.B., 
 '■'^ March 23. 
 "My dear Lucy, 
 
 " I send you by this morning's mail a 
 salmon that ought to reach you by Monday morn- 
 ing. 'Tis a token that we have at last escaped 
 from that grim wrestle with the Demons of snow 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 171 
 
 and ice, and have emerged into pleasant — and 
 fishing — spring weather. Please tell Mrs. Lucy 
 not to be alarmed by the wound in the creature's 
 side : that is the mark — the honourable mark — 
 of the gaff; whereas the salmon you get in the 
 shops have all been captured by the rascally 
 sneaking nets. 
 
 " Good weather to you both for your Easter 
 holidays ! 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "William Black. 
 
 " I am very glad indeed you like ' Briseis,' I 
 wonder if you noticed the little joke about 'tous 
 les chats sont gris ' which I repeated at your house 
 one night. It was told me by John Cross — 
 George Eliot's husband ; but I forget the name of 
 the gay youth who invented it." 
 
 Another, to the general public a less well- 
 known frequenter of the table, was J. C. Parkinson, 
 affectionately known as " Parkey." He, too, was 
 an old Daily News man, and was one of the band 
 Charles Dickens gathered round him in the early 
 days of Household Words. Like Edmund Yates 
 he had a post in one of the Government offices, 
 using literature as a staff. He was never so busy 
 as when he retired from official life and active 
 journalism. A kind-hearted, genial man, of wide 
 experience, he knew most people, and everybody 
 liked him. Nevertheless, his intimate friends were 
 accustomed to poke fun at what is, perhaps, the 
 
172 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEBNESS 
 
 most futile of human foibles. To the last, when 
 he had passed the stage of three score years and 
 ten, his hair preserved an almost truculent air 
 of undimmed blackness. 
 
 "Never mind," said Comyns Carr, one day 
 when some one commented on this phenomenon, 
 " Parkey isn't nearly so black as he's painted." 
 
 Amid the brilliance of this little company, 
 James Payn shone with resplendent light. 
 Known to a wide circle of readers as a charming 
 essayist, a novelist of thrilling power, the display 
 of his gifts as a raconteur were necessarily con- 
 fined to a much narrower circle. He invariably 
 had an anecdote illustrative of some turn in the 
 conversation, and so vast was his store, I do not 
 recall an instance when he repeated himself. His 
 delight in the humour of the situation described 
 was contagious. 
 
 He was devoted to whist. Considering liis 
 extensive and important business in connection 
 with the editorship of Comhill, he surprised 
 himself by the success with which he arranged 
 it so as to get a rubber at the Eeform before 
 going home to dinner. It was also W. E. 
 Forster's custom of an afternoon to look in at 
 the card room and take a hand at whist. He 
 was an indifferent player, sometimes doing things 
 which to his partner momentarily seemed worse 
 than the introduction of a Coercion Bill for 
 Ireland. Once with Payn as his partner he 
 exceeded his average of blundering. 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 173 
 
 Observing a look of consternation clouding his 
 countenance he said, " Never mind, Payn. If it 
 will be any relief to your feelings you may call 
 me ' Buckshot Forster.' " 
 
 That was the nick-name bestowed upon the 
 Irish Secretary by the Parnellites in scornful 
 recognition of what Mr. Forster designed as a 
 humanitarian device. Instead of loading their 
 rifles with ball, which might kill, he directed that 
 in anticipation of conflict with a riotous crowd, 
 buclishot, which would only wound, should be 
 served out to the police. 
 
 When the grip of rheumatism slowly tightening 
 on Payn's frail figure, kept him a prisoner in his 
 room, his old companions at the whist table 
 devised a little plan that gave him infinite pleasure. 
 Since he could not go to the Eeform Club for his 
 afternoon game, the Eeform Club would go to him 
 in the persons of a set of members sufficient to 
 make up a hand at whist in the parlour at War- 
 rington Crescent. There were always three ready 
 to take a turn, and thus it came to pass that the 
 invalid's painful vigil in bed, or on the sofa in the 
 ground-floor room to which he was confined, was 
 cheered by a frequent rubber. 
 
 Payn's gentle nature made him almost ex- 
 travagantly grateful for any little attention. Mrs. 
 Lucy used to send him flowers from her garden. 
 Writing was painful to him, accomplished only by 
 use of a pencil. But he never failed to send a 
 pretty note in acknowledgment. Here is one dated 
 
174 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Feb. IStli, Like Black, he took no note of years. 
 A reference to changes ia the Daily News fixes it 
 at 1900. 
 
 "43, Waerinston Ceescbnt, Maida Vale, "W. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Ltjcy, 
 
 "How kind of you to remember the 
 cripple, and send him the flowers he will never 
 cull for himself. They were lovely, and breathe 
 of the spring. 
 
 " I see your husband is very busy as usual. I 
 wonder how the changes in the Daily News strike 
 him. I notice no longer Lang's hand in its 
 columns. Even in London we have fine weather. 
 How pleasant it must be at Hythe. 
 
 " Yours most truly, 
 
 "James Payn." 
 
 " lOth June. 
 "Dear Mrs. Lucy, 
 
 "I cannot forbear writing a line of 
 thanks for your beautiful roses, and (especially) for 
 the kind thought that suggested sending them. 
 If your kind hands packed them your wrist, as 
 I hope it is, must be quite weU again. 
 
 "A pleasant holiday for you both. I shall 
 always think of you associated with roses. My 
 wife joins with me in kindest regards. 
 "Yours very truly, 
 
 "James Payn.' 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 175 
 
 One reason that made Sir John Eobinson's 
 record of attendance at the luncheon-table exceed 
 that of any other habitue was his horror of holidays. 
 He found pleasure and recreation in work, and had 
 no sympathy with men who must needs go abroad 
 for a month or six weeks in the year, breaking 
 up the monotonous interval by week-ending at 
 Brighton or other health resort. Exercise was all 
 very well. If a man wanted to walk, why, there 
 was Fleet Street. Eegularly through six days a 
 week Robinson, having spent the morning in 
 Bouverie Street directing the affairs of a great 
 newspaper, on the stroke of half-past twelve " took 
 a walk down Fleet Street " till he was overtaken 
 by the first 'bus going westward as far as the 
 bottom of the Haymarket. This he hailed and 
 was conveyed to his beloved Club, and the bright 
 society that clustered round the little table by the 
 window. 
 
 Among other points of sympathy between 
 Robinson and James Payn was the conviction that 
 within the bounds of Ludgate Hill and Hyde Park, 
 London possessed every convenience and necessity 
 of life the heart of man could desire. If under 
 family or friendly compulsion either left town for 
 a holiday, long or short — -and three days were 
 counted long — he went forth as if his goal were 
 the scaffold. Once, greatly daring, they set out 
 for a Saturday to Monday excursion to Winchelsea 
 and Rye. Of the attractions of the old Cinque 
 Ports they had heard much from the sitting 
 
176 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 member, a club colleague (Inderwick) though not 
 belonging to the table. For weeks after their 
 return their account of the expedition rivalled in 
 interest Captain Cook's log of an even more distant 
 voyage. Walking about the ancient streets of Eye 
 they (so they said) did not come across a living 
 souL Straying into the yard of an inn, equally 
 deserted, they observed a horseless omnibus. 
 Opening the door they found the driver seated 
 inside fast asleep. 
 
 "Ah," said James Payn, with a sign of satis- 
 faction, " here's the population." 
 
 The spirit of enquiry thoroughly aroused, they 
 rambled on till they came upon the upland over- 
 looking the sea. Time was when Rye proudly 
 ranked among the Five Ports, generously contri- 
 buting its quota to Plantagenets and Tudors for 
 defence of the island. Now, the wayward sea 
 standing afar off, there is visible between its marge 
 and the ancient town a desolate stretch of shingle 
 and sand. 
 
 " Well," murmured Robinson, forlornly gaziug 
 around, " this is the dullest place I ever saw." 
 
 " Yes," said Payn, " even the sea has 
 deserted it." 
 
 Hurrying back to the station, where with well- 
 rewarded foresight they had left their portmanteaux 
 before making reconnaissance, they caught the train 
 to town, dining late but happy at the Club in Pall 
 Mall. 
 
 Brighton, as being within an hour's run by 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 177 
 
 rail, and in other respects a suburb of London, 
 was more attractive to Kobinson. In summer 
 time, during the last ten or twelve years of his 
 life, he frequently ran down on a Saturday after- 
 noon, compromising with his conscience by return- 
 ing to business at an abnormally early hour on 
 Monday morning. Wherever he might be, his 
 heart, untravelled, fondly turned to Bouverie 
 Street. Once, and only once, I induced him to 
 spend a week-end in the country with me. He 
 bore up with fortitude through the Sunday, taking 
 delight in relating his monologue addressed to 
 a cow in the early morning. He had been 
 awakened about six o'clock by a cow lowing 
 in a neighbouring pasture. I fancy it was not 
 without a certain feeling of pride he recognised 
 the origin and nature of the untimeous inter- 
 ruption of sleep. Some town-bred folk of less 
 keen intuitive perception might have thought it 
 was a horse neighing. 
 
 " Now, my good cow," Robinson, with that 
 chuckling laugh that accompanied his abundant 
 story-telling, reported himself as having said, 
 " that will do for the present. I know what you 
 want. What do you think of the ' largest circula- 
 tion in the world ' 1 and what are your views on 
 the policy of rival enterprise in bill-posting ? But 
 if you'll just be quiet five minutes I'll get to sleep 
 again." 
 
 Here the cow broke in with a fresh burst of 
 even more anguished lowing, Eobinson continuing 
 
178 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 his remonstrance and entreaty whenever the noise 
 subsided. 
 
 Walking to the station on Monday morning to 
 catch the nine o'clock train to London, he had 
 scarcely closed the garden gate when in eager 
 whisper he said — 
 
 " Where can I get the Daily News ? " 
 On hearing that it did not arrive till the next 
 train, he relapsed into moody silence. Evidently 
 he did not know whether to pity or despise a com- 
 munity that could not have the Daily News on 
 their table before eight o'clock breakfast. I forget 
 whether his visit to Hy the preceded or followed his 
 excursion to Rye. Putting the two together, he 
 had a very low opinion of the Cinque Ports. 
 
 The innocent prattling humour, disclosed in his 
 conversation with the cow, will be a revelation of 
 character to some of Eobinson's newspaper staff at 
 home and abroad. Actually, as some of us were 
 privileged to know, he was the kindest-hearted, 
 most generous-natured man in the world ; gentle- 
 mannered, even to timidity. Give him a pen in 
 hand, a sheet of notepaper before him, and some 
 laches calculated to hurt a hair of the head of the 
 Daily News, and he was a perfect ogre. During 
 ray long captaincy of the parliamentary staff of 
 the paper I have seen veteran members of the 
 corps grow pale when a messenger has handed to 
 them a note addressed in Eobinson's unmistakable 
 hieroglyph. Only a sentence or two, but every 
 word a spike driven under the fifth rib. 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 179 
 
 Experientia docef. On a Christmas time, now, 
 alack ! thirty -five years sped, it occurred to me that 
 seasonable copy was to be made out of a visit to 
 the old almshouse at Rochester where, at an earlier 
 Yuletide, Charles Dickens lodged his " Seven Poor 
 Travellers." I went down, made a careful survey 
 of the hostelry, had a friendly conversation with 
 the housekeeper, and wrote an article purporting 
 to be the experience of a strolling paper-stainer 
 who had spent in the almshouse the night on which 
 Christmas Day dawned. I still treasure — praise 
 was rarer, more precious, in those days — a note 
 received from Robinson on the day the article 
 appeared. As usual, it was short ; as customary, 
 it was pointed ; happily it was kind. " If this 
 is not genius," so it ran, " it is something very 
 like it." 
 
 Approbation from Sir Hubert Stanley, especi- 
 ally when he is one's commander, with the keys of 
 promotion in his pocket, is praise indeed. I felt 
 more than rewarded for my winter journey down 
 to Rochester. But there is a cloud to most silver 
 linings. For the dramatic purposes of my article, 
 the six other Poor Travellers having gone to roost, 
 I brought in the matron, with a jug of porter in her 
 hand, representing her as saying, " I'm not going 
 to bed myself for a bit, and if you like to sit by 
 the fire and smoke a pipe and drink a glass whilst 
 I mend a stocking or two, you'll be company." 
 This made opportunity for a chat, in which the 
 matron related some particulars in the history of 
 
180 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Watts's, notably connected with the visit of Charles 
 Dickens, on which was founded his memorable 
 Christmas story. 
 
 Unfortunately, the matron, a practical person, 
 took a view of the incident remote from poetry 
 or prose fiction. She engaged the services of 
 a local solicitor, who wrote a letter to the 
 manager of the Daily News threatening action 
 for libel. His client's present prospects were, 
 he wrote, blighted, her future blasted, by the 
 statement in a journal, avowedly of large cir- 
 culation, that, the rest of the company having 
 gone to bed, she sat up till all hours of the 
 night mending stockings, a tramp within arm's 
 length of her chair smoking a short pipe 
 (I had not indicated its length) and drinking 
 porter. 
 
 Robinson once confided to me the fact that his 
 passion for travel was tamed by incurable appre- 
 hension of shipwreck. "I could never," he said, 
 " sleep in my berth for thinking that between me 
 and the bottom of the sea there was nothing but a 
 plank of wood." There was one thing he appre- 
 hended with livelier fear even than a sea voyage. 
 It was an action for libel. Quick on receipt of the 
 communication from the Rochester solicitor, he 
 wrote to the " ex-almost-a-genius " the most 
 withering letter I ever received. By my callous 
 indifference to facts, my audacious habit of 
 romancing, I had, he said, not only permanently 
 destroyed the character of the Daily News, but 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 181 
 
 had immediately whelmed the proprietors in what 
 promised to be colossal damages. 
 
 I learned later that, by putting a bold face on 
 the matter, Robinson induced the local solicitor to 
 accept £10 in full payment. 
 
 Another of Eobinson's ferocities in letter-writing 
 with which I was personally acquainted — I recall 
 them since their rare reception made them memor- 
 able — was on account of my handwriting. He 
 more than hinted that on particular occasions the 
 time occupied in deciphering my copy had nearly 
 led to that unpardonable sin, " losing the post " 
 after the paper had gone to press. In normal 
 times, he added, my infirmity involved exceptional 
 expense as unduly prolonging the labour of the 
 compositor. 
 
 I confess that my handwriting, in these days 
 mercifully withheld from currency, is not as good 
 as it might be. Admitting possibility of pre- 
 judice, I honestly aver that Eobinson's was worse. 
 It was still another bond of union between him and 
 James Payn that in the matter of illegibility their 
 handwriting was execrable. It happened that in 
 the note addressed to me were three consecutive 
 words, whose meaning I, after diligent endeavour, 
 failed to decipher. I pasted a sheet of paper over 
 Eobinson's note, cutting a hole that disclosed these 
 three words, and took it down with me to the 
 o£B.ce. Having humbly apologised for mine own 
 weakness, and promising effort at amendment, I 
 produced the shrouded note, and asked Eobinson 
 
182 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 what the three words were. He glared at them 
 through his glasses, turned them upside down, 
 and finally admitted he could not tell. Kemoving 
 the covering sheet I showed him how in the 
 matter of^ caligraphy Satan might rebuke sin. 
 He chuckled, added the story to his dinner 
 list, embellishing it as time sped. He never 
 again said anything about my handwriting, 
 a conclusion more easily arrived at as, soon 
 after, I formed the habit of dictation to a 
 secretary, 
 
 Kobinson was an excellent raconteur, long 
 familiarity with a particular story abating no- 
 thing of the zest and keen enjoyment with which 
 he told it. It was characteristic of a somewhat 
 ludicrous tendency to secretiveness that he in- 
 variably prefaced his narration with the remark, 
 "Now, look here, you mustn't print this." Not 
 all were worth printing. But Eobinson had a 
 keen sense of humour, a quick eye for the ludi- 
 crous, and a certain measure of dramatic art, that 
 made his stories delightful when they were not 
 too long in the telling, and had not been repeated 
 more than thrice. 
 
 Eobinson made his way to one of the front 
 places in British journalism by sheer capacity. 
 He never had a patron, nor other turn of good 
 luck, save what comes to the alert man ready to 
 seize and make the most of opportunity. He 
 began life, I believe, as an apprentice to a book- 
 seller and printer in Essex. Having taught 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 183 
 
 himself shorthand, he found a post as reporter 
 on a Bedford journal, presently advancing to 
 the dignity of sub-editor on a Wiltshire weekly. 
 Thence he migrated to a similar position on the 
 Enquirer, organ of the Unitarian community, 
 which he joined as a boy. Work on the 
 Enquirer was not sujBficient to engage the full 
 time of strenuous youth. He managed to obtain 
 some connection with Douglas Jerrold's Weekly, 
 and secured an appointment as London Letter 
 writer for an American journal : a connection 
 he maintained some time after he had been 
 inducted into the managerial chair of the Daily 
 News. 
 
 This portion of his public life is well known. 
 In 1868, the Daily News, having passed an 
 honourable but struggling life as a threepenny 
 paper, came out at a penny. The new manager 
 saw his opportunity when in 1870 war broke out 
 between France and Germany. The newspapers 
 had special correspondents before those days. The 
 fame of W. H. Eussell, a clear trumpet-note 
 sounded through the muddled Crimean War, was 
 still fresh in mind. But editors and the public 
 had been content with the service of the post in 
 conveying news and impressions. It is an odd 
 thing that a constitutionally timid man should 
 have hit upon the bold expedient of acquiring, 
 with the aid of the telegraph, news hot with the 
 breath of the battlefield. Eobinson did that, and 
 at a bound the Daily News sprang into the front 
 
184 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 rank of the world's newspapers, a position it 
 maintained for twenty years. 
 
 Of course lie was fortunate in Ms agents, 
 Archibald Forbes, MacGahan, and others. But 
 these were men he picked out from the crowd, 
 whose plan of campaign he directed as a com- 
 mander-in-chief orders the movement of an army 
 in the field. It was J. E. Eobinson who made 
 the Daily News. For twenty-seven years he and 
 I worked together in intimacy ever growing closer, 
 culminating in a period during which I was editor 
 of the paper. Through all that time, in storm 
 or sunshine, I found Eobinson honourable in all 
 his dealings, a willing slave to the call of duty, a 
 heaven-born journalist, concealing behind a shy 
 manner sometimes affecting austerity, a generous 
 nature, a heart open to the widest sympathies. 
 
 It came to the knowledge of Wemyss Eeid 
 and Parkinson, in succession chairmen of the 
 Eeform, that I had bequeathed to the club my 
 collection of portraits of eminent contemporaries. 
 Thereafter, it was their genial humour to affect 
 the keenest solicitude as to the state of my health. 
 They gloomily congratulated me on looking well 
 and going strong, but hinted that a man who had 
 devised certain desirable property to his club, was 
 expected not unduly to strain the privilege of 
 longevity. 
 
 Alack ! they have gone before, and I, I only 
 am left of the merry company. As, seated apart, 
 I look across at the table haunted by shadows — 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 185 
 
 I feel like one who treads alone 
 Some banquet hall deserted, 
 
 Whose lights are fled, whose garlands dead. 
 And all but he departed. 
 ***** 
 Keturning to England with the New Year 
 1904, after two months' absence in America, I was 
 painfully struck by the number of public men, more 
 or less intimate friends in social life, who in so brief 
 an interval had passed away. To mention a few, 
 there were John Penn, Blundell Maple in the 
 House of Commons, and Lord Eowton in the Peers. 
 Penn was little known to the general public, an 
 omission amply covered by the personal aff'ection 
 with which he was regarded by those privileged to 
 know him intimately. I confess I was drawn to 
 him by an inspiration at second hand. Meeting 
 him out once or twice, I discerned in him a quiet, 
 rather dull man, who never said a foolish thing, 
 because at the dinner-table he hardly ever opened 
 his mouth except to eat. I further noted that he 
 was a particular friend, a chosen companion, of 
 Mr. Arthur Balfour, a person not likely to waste 
 his friendship on an uninteresting person. In 
 course of time, I, too, was admitted into the inner 
 circle of John Penn's friends, and had opportunity 
 of discovering the noble simplicity of his nature. 
 At his own table, or in company with his particular 
 friends, who included the brightest set of the 
 House of Commons, he was light-hearted as a boy, 
 given to hearty bursts of laughter. He rarely 
 
186 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 spoke in the House, and only on subjects upon 
 which he was specially informed. His speech had 
 the admirable qualities of brevity, lucidity, and 
 mastery of his topic. Only a few years before his 
 death he rej;ired from the leadership of the great 
 engineering firm which still bears his father's 
 name. 
 
 The illness that carried him off was of recent 
 growth, cruelly rapid development. A keen sports- 
 man, an enthusiastic golfer, with just enough busi- 
 ness on hand to ward off ennui, he was happy in 
 his household, honoured in public life. Suddenly, 
 secretly, some malign finger touched his heart, 
 transforming him into the wreck of a man. In the 
 last week of July, 1903, he arranged a dinner-party 
 for two old friends who were presently going across 
 the Atlantic, and whom he knew he should not 
 see again during the current year. His doctors 
 forbade his being present at anything on the scale 
 of his customary dinner-party. Penn yielded to 
 authority, but dexterously evaded the spirit of the 
 ukase. He was forbidden to have his usual dinner- 
 party of sixteen. So he had two of eight, held in 
 adjoining rooms, on which a door widely opened. 
 
 Among the merry half who sat at the host's 
 table was the Prime Minister, showing no signs of 
 the toil of a long session or the worry of Cabinet 
 dissension. Penn ate and drank little, but his 
 worn face lighted up at the brilliancy of Arthur 
 Balfour's talk, and the old smile came back. ■ The 
 two friends for whom the dinner was arranged said 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 187 
 
 "good-bye" and went their way. Among the 
 wintry news reaching us by cable on the other side 
 of the water was announcement of the death of 
 John Penn. 
 
 On our return we heard a little story character- 
 istic of his beautiful nature. He knew that the 
 daughter of his opposite neighbour, in Carlton 
 House Terrace, was about to be married. The 
 day fixed was a Tuesday, On the previous Friday 
 Penn felt that within probably twenty-four hours 
 the shadow of death would have closed over him. 
 His thoughts turned to the folk over the way, 
 and the brightness in store for them. He accord- 
 ingly gave instructions that in no circumstances 
 was his funeral to take place on the wedding day. 
 
 So it was arranged, and he was buried the day 
 after the ceremony. 
 
 Blundell Maple came into the House of Com- 
 mons too late in life, was too busy elsewhere, at 
 Tottenham Court Road and Newmarket, to make 
 his mark. He happened to touch it in his last 
 active session, when the great scandal of the army 
 horse remounts in South Africa stirred the nation 
 to depths of angry indignation. There were 
 two diverse things of which Blundell Maple was 
 supreme, unerring judge. One was an Eastern 
 carpet, the other a horse. Had the duty of supply- 
 ing remounts during the war been committed to 
 him, many a lamentable episode in the long 
 campaign would have turned out differently. 
 
188 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Unasked, he devoted much valuable time to 
 saving the country from loss and the army from 
 peril in the matter of remounts. For guerdon he 
 was snubbed by the sapient War Office authorities, 
 and scolded, by the committee appointed to enquire 
 into their ladies. In almost the last speech he 
 made in the House he, in broken voice, described 
 his treatment when summoned before the Kemount 
 Committee to give evidence. He fought long, 
 quietly, but obstinately with prejudice against a 
 tradesman, a prejudice most openly displayed by 
 peers whose grandfathers had been mercers or their 
 fathers brewers. He was lying on what proved to 
 be his deathbed, when news reached him of his 
 election to the Jockey Club, an honour for years 
 withheld from a man who spent unlimited sums on 
 the Turf, and always ran straight. 
 
 I made the acquaintance of Lord Eowfcon in 
 the lobby of the House of Commons, which he 
 frequented for more than thirty years. Even 
 when Lord Beaconsfield was dead, and he himself 
 was a peer, the old instincts of the Whip brought 
 him back to his former hunting ground. Ostensibly 
 he looked in for a pinch of snuff, drawn from the 
 box kept by the principal doorkeeper pro bono 
 publico. Being there his quick eye took in the 
 scene, he noted the persons present, and found 
 opportunity to fill up half an hour by picking up 
 opinions and odd bits of information. They were 
 of no official use to him in later days. But it had 
 
A HAUNTED TABLE 189 
 
 been his business, whilst his chief was alive, and 
 in his retirement he pursued it. 
 
 Thirty years ago there was nothing more 
 pleasant in public life than the relations of Disraeli 
 and Monty Corry. In a fashion, differing from 
 that sung in immortal verse, the companionship 
 was the realisation of Coleridge's dream that 
 "Youth and Age are housemates still." Lord 
 Eowton's reverent affection for his old master 
 remained warm to the last. In intimate conver- 
 sation he rarely omitted to make some personal 
 reference to him. 
 
 The last time I was in Lord Eowton's company 
 was at Harrogate in the August of 1904. Hear- 
 ing we were staying with a friend on The Stray, 
 he called to leave a card. I had not met him 
 since the spring, and was shocked at the change 
 in his appearance. After a period of perennial 
 youth, prolonged over his sixtieth year, he had 
 suddenly finally broken down. He was suffering 
 so acutely from lumbago that he regretfully pro- 
 tested it would be impossible for him to get out of 
 his cab and walk up the steps. Prevailed upon by 
 our host, he managed, with assistance, to enter the 
 house and stay to luncheon. Quickly his spirits 
 rose. He made light of recurrent twinges of pain, 
 and talked with all his ancient vivacity. Inevitably 
 his memory ran back to his old chief, about whom 
 he freely spoke. Among other things, he related 
 how Disraeli told him that the first communication 
 he had with the lady who subsequently became 
 
190 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 his wife, was dated from an inn bearing tlie extra- 
 ordinary name "The Cow and Snuffers." Going 
 down on electioneering business to the neighbour- 
 hood in which her husband lived, he had put up at 
 this inn. 
 
 The luncheon lasted two hours, Lord Kowton 
 contributing most of the conversation. As he 
 left to return to his hotel he, by way of showing 
 how completely he was recovered, did a step of the 
 hornpipe in the hall. Then, linked arm in arm 
 with unseen, unfelt Death, he got into his cab 
 and passed away out of my life, and, within a few 
 months, out of his own. The next I heard of 
 him was by another of those cable messages 
 announcing the death of old and treasured friends. 
 
XIX 
 
 EPISODES 
 
 AMOsra miscellaneous episodes in my journey 
 through, the Wilderness I have, as related in con- 
 nection with Fred Burnaby, been up in a balloon. 
 I have been down a coal mine in South Wales, 
 and a silver mine at Leadville, U.S.A., this last a 
 rare privilege in a jealously guarded place where, 
 as an ordinarily inflexible rule, " no one is admitted 
 except on business." I have voyaged in a sub- 
 marine boat, and I have seen two men hanged. 
 
 One experience foregone sorely against my will 
 was descent in a diving-bell. When, in January, 
 18^3, the emigrant ship Northjleet sank off Dunge- 
 ness, drowning 300 people, I described for the 
 Daily News incidents consequent on the tragedy. 
 A peculiarity of the shipwreck was the non- 
 appearance on the surface of the waters of the 
 bodies of the drowned. Usually, after a certain 
 number of days, the sea gives up its dead. In the 
 case of the Northjleet only a score or so of the 
 drowned floated within a week of the wreck. It 
 was conjectured that the great company were 
 entombed in the hull. It was arranged that a 
 diving-bell slaoujid go down to fathom the mystery. 
 
 191 
 
192 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 I struck up a close friendship with Captain 
 Gates, the original commander of the Northfleet, 
 whose escape from the fateful ship was singular. 
 He had made all arrangements for sailing when he 
 was served with a mandate ordering him to attend 
 and give evidence in the Tichborne case, then 
 approaching its climax. He had no option. To 
 his profound regret, and considerable pecuniary 
 loss, he remained ashore whilst the Northfleet, under 
 a new commander, set forth with bellying sails to 
 meet her doom at Dungeness. 
 
 I did not go down in the diving-bell, for the 
 simple reason that the diving-bell never descended. 
 A storm beat up Channel, churning the waters 
 above the submerged wreck in a way that made 
 impossible the operation of the diving-bell. It 
 prevailed for more than a week, when the project 
 was abandoned. 
 
 Captain Gates was one of the few men who saw 
 and conversed with the real Roger Tichborne before 
 his disappearance. In the course of a drive from 
 Dover to Dungeness he gave me a vivid account 
 of the incident, which I transcribe from my diary 
 of that date. It throws a flood of light on the 
 memorable story. 
 
 " I was at the time," he said, " in charge of the 
 John Bibby, lying at Rio, waiting for a cargo. 
 The Bella lay alongside, and, as her owners and 
 mine were connected in business arrangements. 
 Captain Birkett and I were often together, and. 
 
EPISODES 193 
 
 used to talk our aflfairs over. One day, when lie 
 was ready to sail, he came to me and said, ' Gates, 
 there is a young fellow been over to see me about 
 taking a passage in the Bella to New York.' 
 
 " ' Well,' I said, ' you have a berth, and may as 
 well make a dollar or two for the ship.' 
 
 " ' 'Xactly,' said he, ' but the fact is the young 
 fellow has got no money ; he says he is well 
 connected, has plenty of rich friends in England, 
 and that a letter of credit is waiting for him at 
 New York. But he has run through all his money 
 here, is heavily in debt, and wants to get quietly 
 away.' 
 
 " ' Well,' I said, ' that's another sort of thing, 
 Birkett,' I says. ' You know well enough what 
 passage money to be paid at the other end 
 usually comes to. However, bring the young 
 fellow over to breakfast in the morning, and we'll 
 have a look at him.' 
 
 " So next morning Birkett and the young 
 fellow came over to breakfast with me, and he told 
 his story. It was impossible to be in his company 
 five minutes without knowing that he was of 
 gentleman stock, and after he was gone I said to 
 Birkett, ' Let him have the passage. If he pays 
 it wUl be all right, and if he don't it will be only 
 another plate of sole on the table during the 
 voyage, and the owners need not know anything 
 about it.' 
 
 "Birkett took my word, and let the young 
 fellow go aboard. The authorities at Kio were 
 
 
 
194 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 very strict at the time, and it was necessary for 
 every one leaving the city to have a passport. 
 Tichbome, owing money all about, could not, of 
 course, get his passport, and we had to smuggle 
 him aboard. He came off in a boat the night 
 before, and when the custom-house officers hove 
 within sight next day, for the last look round, we 
 put him down in a hole in the cabin floor, under- 
 neath the table. The custom-house officers came 
 aboard, mustered the crew, and found them all 
 right. 
 
 '"Any one else aboard. Captain Birkett?' 
 says one. 
 
 " ' No,' says Birkett ; ' but come down in the 
 cabin and take a cup of coffee before you go.' 
 
 " The officer came down and sat at the table 
 with his feet on the plank which covered young 
 Tichborne. When he had finished his coffee he 
 and I put off. The Bella made sail, and I never 
 saw or heard anything about the ship till a 
 few days later a bit of stem and a portion of 
 the poop floated ashore, and told us she had 
 foundered. 
 
 "When this blackguard (the Claimant) was 
 examined in private for the first time, five or 
 six years ago, he knew nothing at all of this. 
 He tried to get out of it by saying he was drunk 
 when he went aboard, and remained in his cabin 
 in a state of delirium tremens up to the time of 
 the wreck, Tichborne being, as I well knew, as 
 sober as I am this minute." 
 
EPISODES 195 
 
 The trip in the submarine took place in the 
 spring of 1905. We were staying at Admiralty 
 House, Portsmouth, the guests of Admiral and 
 Lady Douglas, he at the time Commander-in-Chief. 
 One day it was proposed that we should inspect a 
 submarine in practice at the moiith of the harbour. 
 Walking through the Dockyard to the Admiral's 
 launch, we passed an interesting spectacle. It 
 was the hull of the submarine " Al," which, twelve 
 months earlier, met with a fate that sent a thrill 
 of horror and sympathy through the country. 
 Practising under water off the Nab lightship in 
 the Channel, she was literally run over by a 
 mammoth ocean steamer homeward-bound. The 
 liner's prow struck her conning-tower, sending 
 her to the bottom of the sea with a crew of nine 
 hands and two officers sealed up in a living tomb. 
 Looking down at the dry dock where the wreck 
 was dealt with we saw the rent in the framework 
 caused by the impact of the great steamer. The 
 Admiral casually mentioned that they were not 
 hurrying forward repairs. There would be no 
 difficulty in obtaining a volunteer crew for the 
 patched-up submarine, stUl retaining a name and 
 identity made memorable by dire disaster. Never- 
 theless, it was just as well to let the passage of a 
 year or two blunt the sharpness of memory. 
 
 Arrived at submarine " A 2 " waiting the signal 
 for descent into the quiet sea, I asked the Admiral's 
 permission to go down with her. He hesitated for 
 a moifteijt. But what was safe for sailors could 
 
196 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 not be perilous for a landsman. So he nodded 
 assent, and in a few minutes I was snug on 
 board. We bad a pleasant, uneventful voyage. 
 The hold, running the full length and breadth 
 of the little craft, was brilliantly lighted by 
 electricity. As in the case of " Al," there were 
 a crew of nine men and two ofl&cers, young lieu- 
 tenants, in command. During the voyage one 
 stood on the steps of the ladder leading to the 
 conning-tower. The other was in charge below. 
 There was nothing unusual in the atmosphere, 
 fresh air being supplied from chambers storing 
 sufficient for twelve hours. Nor was there any- 
 thing disturbing in the motion of the boat. As 
 a matter of fact the landsman was not conscious 
 of any movement when the boat sank out of 
 sight of heaven and earth. Nor did he know he 
 was speeding under water, confounding the cod, 
 hampering the haddock and other sprinters of the 
 deep by making the record pace of eight knots. 
 The only feeling approaching uncanniness was 
 born of the silence that prevailed, broken now 
 and then by whispered command from the first 
 lieutenant in the conning-tower, repeated by the 
 second lieutenant below, and responded to by 
 hoarse "Ay, ay" from the bluejacket lying full 
 length on the floor in charge of the particular 
 piece of machinery that had to be adjusted. 
 
 The first hanging at which I was present was 
 one of the last under the old barbarous system 
 
EPISODES 197 
 
 which brought a mob to the foot of the gallows, 
 clamorous to see a fellow-creature done to death. 
 The convict was a young farm labourer, who, 
 after attending a Sunday afternoon service in 
 the vUlage church, lured into a wood a fellow- 
 worshipper, a little girl eleven or twelve years 
 old, and cruelly murdered her. In those good 
 old times not only were executions public, afford- 
 ing early morning entertainment for Lord Tom 
 Noddy and sightseers of lower degree, but repre- 
 sentatives of the Press were admitted to sight of 
 the awful mysteries of preparation for the gallows. 
 Following close on the footsteps of the governor 
 of the prison and the hangman, I was one of a 
 group who stood by the doorway of the pinioning 
 room, and saw the doomed man bound, not to 
 say trussed. Across the waste of forty years I 
 recall the predominant sensation — one of surprise 
 at his stolidity, his uncomplaining acceptance of 
 the operation as if it were an ordinary part of 
 a morning's toilet. He assisted Caleraft to adjust 
 the belt by removing his handkerchief from 
 the breast pocket of his smock, across which it 
 passed. An ox going to the shambles would have 
 been more resentful. 
 
 The gallows were erected outside the county 
 jail, which closely adjoins the railway station. 
 For some hours passengers entering or leaving 
 Shrewsbury by train, looking up at the prison 
 walls, saw a dark object, some five feet ten inches 
 in length, dangling from a rope, "the blue sky 
 
198 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 over him like God's great pity." It was the 
 mark of civilisation cut in the sixth decade of 
 the nineteenth century. 
 
 Ten years later Henry WaLnwright was hanged 
 at Newgate, the execution being the last scene in 
 what was known as the " Whitechapel Tragedy." 
 He killed a girl of whose charms he had grown 
 tired and whose affection for him had become 
 boring. He was caught wheeling the body through 
 the streets of London, with intent to hide it in 
 the cellar of a house he rented near the Elephant 
 and Castle. The proceedings at the foot of the 
 gallows were much more seemly than those 
 attendant on the execution at Shrewsbury. The 
 gruesome ceremony was conducted within the 
 privacy of the prison walls. But there were 
 present in Chapel Yard at least a hundred specta- 
 tors. About a score were, like myself, members 
 of the Press attendant upon an undesirable duty 
 assigned in the turn of a day's work. The rest 
 were there by favour of the sheriffs, who had 
 delegated to Calcraft the duty, incumbent upon 
 themselves by ancient statute, of personally con- 
 ducting the hanging. 
 
 In one corner of Chapel Yard stood a strongly 
 built wooden shed, newly painted in honour of 
 the day. It was gruesomely like a butcher's 
 shop, windowless, with a skirting in front. An 
 iron beam running its full length about a foot 
 below the roof added to the structural similarity. 
 From the beam hung, not a row of shoulders of 
 
EPISODES 199 
 
 mutton or sides of Christmas beef, but a few 
 links of strong chain finished off by a hook. To 
 the chain was knotted a stout hempen cord. It 
 was looped, the noose thrown with a certain 
 ghastly grace over the hook. 
 
 This was the sight that met Wainwright's 
 eyes when, a door opening on the courtyard, he 
 walked out into the cool morning air. Bare- 
 headed and pinioned, he bore himself bravely, 
 even with a certain quiet dignity. By his side 
 strode a warder, leading the procession. On his 
 left, slightly to the rear, with an air suggesting 
 the hope that he did not intrude, came a little 
 wizened man. This was Calcraft. 
 
 Many years afterwards the hangman called on 
 me — I don't know why or wherefore — and, in my 
 absence from home, left his card. In the circum- 
 stances I observed with relief notification that he 
 had " retired from business." 
 
XX 
 
 Accompanied by Mrs. Lucy, an excellent traveller 
 by sea or land, I bave journeyed round the world, 
 with shorter excursions to various points of the 
 compass. Ever I was hampered by the exigencies 
 of the Parliamentary session, whose arrangements 
 not only arbitrarily determined the period of 
 setting forth on a journey, but strictly limited 
 the duration of the expedition. 
 
 The first time I crossed the Atlantic was in 
 1878, being commissioned by the Daily News to 
 write a special account of the arrival and recep- 
 tion of the Princess Louise and the Marquis of 
 Lome, the latter appointed to the Viceroyalty. 
 Here was opportunity of seeing Canada under 
 favourable circumstances. Hardly had the 
 Governor-General and the Princess landed at 
 Halifax amid the roar of a royal salute and the 
 acclamations of the populace, than I received a 
 telegram from the Daily News manager ordering 
 my instant return. War had broken out in 
 Afghanistan. Parliament was hurriedly summoned 
 in order to pass a vote of credit. If I took the 
 first steamer I would get back in time for the 
 
 200 
 
"IN JOURNBYINGS OFTEN" 201 
 
 opening day. No steamer was immediately sail- 
 ing from Halifax. By travelling night and day 
 through the snow-clad plains and forests of Canada 
 we could catch a steamer outward-bound from 
 New York. This we did ; but it was not a com- 
 plete or satisfactory way of seeing Canada. 
 
 Five years later we set forth on our journey 
 round the world, leaving Liverpool on September 
 3, 1883. Crossing the United States we took 
 ship at San Francisco for Yokohama, coming 
 back through India and the Suez Canal. The 
 Parliamentary recess afforded only five months 
 for this journey, a period one might have profit- 
 ably spent in Japan or India. But it is wonderful 
 what you can see and learn in five months if you 
 keep eyes and ears open. 
 
 r In crossing the American Continent we had 
 the great pleasure of the frequent company of 
 Lord and Lady Eosebery. They also were making 
 a tour of the world, going by Australia. We did 
 not voyage in company on the Atlantic, but met 
 frequently at halting-places on the long railway 
 route, and always dined together. At San Fran- 
 cisco, sleeping at the Palace Hotelj'we also enjoyed 
 an earthquake in common. It did not approach 
 in vigour the one which twenty-four years later 
 destroyed the hotel and partly uprooted San 
 Francisco. But, like Mercutio's wound, it served. 
 A large number of the guests fled into the streets. 
 Lady Eosebery spent the night in the corridor, 
 which, compared with her bed or her sitting-room, 
 
202 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 did not seem to afford greatly increased pro- 
 tection. I reflected that, being lodged on one of 
 the topmost stories of the lofty building, it was 
 a far journey to the street. If the earthquake 
 really meapt business one would be scarcely safer 
 in the roadway between two rows of houses than 
 on an upper floor. Accordingly, I turned over and 
 went to sleep. When I awoke in the morning 
 the guests were ringing for hot water as if 
 nothing had happened since they went to bed. 
 
 It was a memorable season for subterranean 
 excitement. Whilst we were on the Pacific, steam- 
 ing eastward, some island in the Malay Archipelago 
 disappeared in a volcanic eruption. For a period 
 exceeding a month, partly when we were at sea, 
 partly when travelling in jinrickshas through 
 Japan, we nightly had the most glorious sunsets 
 ever seen on sea or land. 
 
 At the time of our visit Japan was only 
 beginning to emerge into the fuU light of Western 
 civilisation. Railways were few, the navy was 
 practically non-existent, the army an undisciplined 
 mob. We chanced to be at Tokio on the Mikado's 
 birthday (November 3, 1883), an event celebrated 
 by a review of the troops in an open space adjoin- 
 ing the Foreign Office. The force consisted of 
 some 8000 men, horse, foot, and artillery. The 
 opening of the day was marked by auguries that 
 did not forecast the military triumphs that 
 astonished the world a quarter of a century later. 
 The Mikado, driving down in his brougham, 
 
"IN JOUENEYINGS OFTEN" 203 
 
 mounted a safe little bay pony with yellow reins, 
 and, followed by his staff and the military attaches 
 of the Foreign Ministers, slowly rode past the 
 ranks standing stiffly at attention. His seat on 
 horseback was peculiar. Holding a yellow rein in 
 either hand, his elbows squared, he sat well forward 
 on the pony's neck after a fashion later made 
 familiar at Epsom by an American jockey. 
 
 As soon as the march past commenced one of 
 the Imperial Princes lost the epaulette from his 
 left shoulder, and was nearly thrown from his 
 horse as he frantically clutched at it. Halfway 
 across the review ground the Minister of War's 
 horse bolted, depositing its rider in the roadway, 
 where he was picked up and carried off to a place 
 of safety. After the review the Mikado withdrew 
 to his tent. Hearing there were present two 
 English visitors, he graciously intimated his desire 
 that they should be presented. At the time his 
 Majesty, who lived to see Japan transformed from 
 a third-rate Power to the position of conqueror of 
 Russia, equal to the mightiest States, was in his 
 thirty-first year. He cultivated to the fullest 
 extent the attribute of impassivity. He had gone 
 out of his way to pay attention to two strangers, 
 but, as through an interpreter he addressed them, 
 his face betrayed about as much expression as is 
 habitual to a brick wall. 
 
 I was privileged to see a good deal of the two 
 men who are actually the founders of the modern 
 and marvellous Japanese Empire. Prince Ito, he 
 
204 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 was plain " Mr. " in those days, occupied the post 
 of Minister of the Interior. Inouye was Foreign 
 Minister. In many intimate conversations I had 
 with the latter he told me the history of his life, 
 which reaches beyond the bounds of fancy of the 
 average romancist. He and Ito belonged to the 
 Samurai class, the nobles of old Japan, privileged 
 to carry and use the two-handled sword. Fifty 
 years ago the youths, just past their twentieth 
 year, were in the retinue and confidence of the 
 Prince of Choisiu. He was the last leader of the 
 lost cause of old Japan. His name lives in history, 
 inasmuch as, in defiance of the Tycoon, who was 
 dallying with the foreigners, he closed the Straits 
 of Shimonoseki against British ships, threatening 
 to fire on any that came within range of his guns. 
 The youths remonstrated with their hot-headed 
 chieftain, pointing out the futility of opposing 
 force to Great Britain. 
 
 " The thing to do," they said, " is to beat Eng- 
 land on her own ground. We must learn to build 
 ships, sail ships, and fight them in a fleet of our own. 
 Then we shall be able to keep our coast inviolate." 
 
 They volunteered to go to England, spy out 
 the land, master the secret of naval supremacy, 
 bring it back to Japan, create a fleet, and then let 
 boastful Western nations look to themselves. 
 
 In 1858, when this project was submitted, it 
 seemed chUdish in its audacity. As we know, it 
 has been literally realised. Under great difficulties, 
 suffering much privation, the two young men made 
 
"IN JOUENEYINGS OFTEN" 205 
 
 their way to London. They had not been there 
 more than three months when they were convinced 
 of the helplessness of the attitude their Prince had 
 assumed towards the mighty Western islanders. 
 Keturning home, for lack of money working their 
 way before the mast, they counselled the Prince to 
 make terms with the British. But they were more 
 truly representative of Japanese opinion when, 
 eight months earlier, they secretly left their 
 country in search of methods that would enable 
 them to trample on the foreigner. Their old 
 friends regarded them as traitors and sought to 
 take their lives. Ito went into hiding. Inouye, 
 falling into the hands of the angered Samurai, was 
 slashed with swords and left for dead by the road- 
 side. To this day he bears on his face a memento 
 of the terrible night. 
 
 In 1894 we visited Capetown, and were for 
 three weeks the guests of Cecil Ehodes of whom 
 something is written in a later chapter. On 
 Christmas Eve, 1902, on the invitation of Sir 
 Alfred Moloney, Governor of Trinidad, we set out 
 on a voyage to the West Indies. Before settling 
 down at Government House, Trinidad, we stayed 
 a week with Sir Eobert Llewelyn, Governor of 
 the beautiful island of Grenada. 
 
 Just before we started we learned that Lady 
 Moloney was ill, the Governor's return to the island 
 being deferred for a week. My engagements being 
 fixed; we were bound to travel by the steamer in 
 
206 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 which our berths were booked. Accordingly we 
 arrived at Trinidad a week ahead of our host and 
 hostess. It was blazing hot, and our hotel, again 
 " the best," need not have shrunk from entering the 
 list of rivalry with an old acquaintance at Capetown. 
 
 We heard much of the beauty of Grenada, a 
 small island a day's voyage from Trinidad. Thither 
 we repaired to pass the week unexpectedly dis- 
 engaged. Among the passengers on the pretty 
 steamer sailing over sapphire seas was a tall, spare 
 man who, as soon as we had put to sea, came up 
 from his berth in a white linen jacket and a short 
 pipe between his teeth. He seemed to know 
 everybody on board, his friendly attitude and racy 
 conversation being greeted with an approach to 
 reverence that, regarded in connection with his 
 jacket and his pipe, was a little puzzling. I sat 
 next to him at luncheon, and the captain presented 
 me to Dr. Hayes, the Bishop of Trinidad. I met 
 him later at dinner at Government House, Trinidad, 
 improving upon a delightful acquaintance. Dur- 
 ing a visit to London the following year he lunched 
 with us at Ashley Gardens. A week or two later 
 we were shocked to read of his sudden death as 
 he was preparing for return to the diocese in which 
 he was the most popular figure. 
 
 Within a few hours of our arrival in Grenada 
 despair settled down upon us. As far as we could 
 see it equalled its reputation as a beautiful island. 
 The wooded land was fair to see, the bay beautifuL 
 Every prospect pleased ; only our quarters were vile. 
 
"IN JOUENBYINGS OFTEN" 207 
 
 We would have fled straightway, but the boat 
 called only once a week, and there we were en- 
 tombed for seven days in a condition of squalor 
 and discomfort, with food uneatable. Weeping 
 may endure for a night ; joy eometh with the 
 morning. Shortly after breakfast, whilst we were 
 settled in our desolate room discussing the least 
 disreputable form of suicide, a note was brought 
 in. It was from the Governor of the island, who 
 had seen our names in the list of passengers 
 arriving the day before, begging us to make 
 Government House our home during our stay. 
 This was the more gracious as I had no personal 
 acquaintance with Sir Eobert Llewelyn and was 
 known to him only by name. We spent a delight- 
 ful week with the charming family at Government 
 House, getting back to Trinidad in time to find a 
 welcome at the larger Government House, which 
 stands in the garden where Charles Kingsley so- 
 journed when " At Last " his heart's desire was 
 fulfilled and he beheld the West Indies. 
 
 Our third visit to the United States, paid in 
 the winter of 1903, was planned in response to 
 an invitation from Sir Thomas Lipton to be his 
 guest on the Erin during the race for the America 
 Cup. We had made some preparation for the 
 voyage, when it chanced one afternoon in July I 
 met Mr. Choate, the American Minister, at the 
 house of Mr. White, Secretary to the Legation. 
 He had heard of our intended journey, and strongly 
 
208 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 dissuaded us from going to New York in August, 
 the month in which the race was to be run. His 
 graphic picture of its horrors in the hot weather 
 made such an impression that we resolved to forego 
 Sir Thomas's hospitality and the pleasure of the 
 boat race, deferring our visit by a couple of months. 
 For this we were ever grateful, since we not only 
 had better weather, but were present through the 
 interesting turmoil of a general election, and were at 
 Washington on the opening day of the new Congress. 
 I have somewhere read or heard it said that 
 the world-wide popularity of Punch is damped in 
 the United States, It is explained that American 
 humour so entirely diflfers from British taste that 
 Americans do not appreciate Punch. I can testify 
 that, if it be true Mr, Punch has no vogue in the 
 United States, the reception accorded to one of 
 the humblest of his young men is incomprehensible. 
 Desiring a little quiet and rest before commencing 
 our tour, we on arrival of the steamer went straight 
 off from the wharf to Larchmont, to the country 
 house of a friend some twenty miles distant from 
 New York. We left no address behind, and looked 
 forward to at least a few days' seclusion. We 
 counted without the host of New York papers. All 
 the Sunday journals had columns reporting inter- 
 views with ' ' Toby M.P." and other innocent material 
 for sensational articles. 
 
 On Sunday one of the news editors of the New 
 
 York Herald, by some occult means, traced us to 
 
 our hiding-place. New York was already in the 
 
"IN JOtJENEYINGS OFTEN" 209 
 
 throes of tlie election. The afternoon caller brought 
 a courteous message from the editor to say that 
 preliminaries of the election campaign would be in 
 full force on the following evening, and he desired 
 to place at my disposal a motor car and a member 
 of his staff to show me round the city. This was 
 exceedingly kind. I reflected with embarrassment 
 that no leading London paper would pay a similar 
 attention to an American journalist en tour. I 
 gladly accepted the offer, was driven through the 
 Bowery and other densely populated quarters, 
 observing with interest the animated scene. When 
 my personal conductor brought me to the railway 
 station to catch the last train for Larchmont, he 
 remarked, quite incidentally, that perhaps I should 
 be able to write a special signed article for the 
 Herald, describing my experiences and impressions. 
 Here was the little plot disclosed. This was the 
 explanation of the marked attention and the well- 
 appointed motor car. Not disposed to spoil sport, 
 I wrote the article and promptly received a cheque 
 in payment. 
 
 Among the questions showered upon me by 
 the eleven reporters who awaited my arrival on the 
 wharf, one demanded instant definition of the 
 grounds of difference between English and American 
 humour. Oddly enough, of a series of articles the 
 Herald commissioned me to write, one was on this 
 interesting but abstruse topic. Probably the 
 question is put to every literary man landing on 
 the American shore. 
 
 P 
 
210 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 From Larchmont we went on a visit to Mr. 
 Whitelaw Keid's country house, modestly named 
 Ophir Farm. In the stateliness of its outward 
 appearance it reminded one curiously of Windsor 
 Castle. The interior presents realisation of absO' 
 lute luxury controlled by good taste. When 
 shown to my dressing-room I thought, from its 
 proportions, furnishing, and general adornment, 
 that I had strayed into one of the smaller drawing- 
 rooms. I marvelled when some months later I 
 heard that Mr. Whitelaw Eeid had accepted the 
 post of American Minister at the Court of St. 
 James's, a position that involved his quitting this 
 perfect home lodged in a woodland whose wildness 
 cultured taste left almost untouched. Another 
 charming visit we paid — indeed, there were two, 
 for we were asked again — was to Bourke Cockran's 
 house on Long Island. Nothing could exceed the 
 hospitality of the New Yorkers, it being extended 
 in many cases by people I met casually at luncheon 
 or dinner. 
 
 With the Chinese Minister I was the joint guest 
 at one of the famous Lotus Club Saturday night 
 dinners. As I knew a speech would be expected, 
 and the occasion being one of exceptional distinction, 
 I was at pains to write out some choice sentences. 
 When speech-making began I observed that those 
 who contributed to it not only did not read from 
 manuscript, but had not a scrap of notes. When 
 the Chinese Ambassador, immediately preceding 
 my turn, talked at ease in excellent English I felt 
 
"IN JOUENEYINGS OFTEN" 211 
 
 ashamed of the manuscript in my breast coat 
 pocket. Called upon to respond to the toast of 
 the evening, I talked for a few minutes. What I 
 said did not provide anything approaching the 
 elegance of the secreted literary extract. It was, 
 I fancy, much better received than would have 
 been the manuscript. 
 
 Another banquet given for me was spread at 
 the Union Club, my host being Colonel Harvey 
 of " Harper's." It was a small but interesting 
 company. A neighbour on my right was W. D. 
 HoweUs, a happy accident that gave opportunity 
 for a friendship renewed and cemented when later 
 he visited this country in search of material for one 
 of his delightful books. 
 
 "KiLLEKY Point, 
 
 " Octoher 16, 1906. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Lucy, — It has been the greatest 
 pleasure for my daughter and me to hear from you, 
 and we recognise Mrs. Lucy's hand in your kind- 
 ness. When my article reappears in book form I 
 will send the volume to you, hoping that the pas- 
 sage left out of the magazine through an editorial 
 exigency will not seem too personal to your 
 ' haddock and potatoes.' We remember nothing 
 pleasanter in all our English experience than our 
 lunch with you at Whitethorn, unless it was our 
 lunch with you in London. 
 
 "We have been here by the sea ever since 
 May, but we are going back to New York in a 
 fortnight. We shall all be in a hotel till January, 
 
212 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 when my daughter goes to Bermuda, which she 
 loves almost as much as England. Of course, 
 England is bigger, but the climate is better in 
 Bermuda. If England were only two days oflF, like 
 the other island, we should all go, in spite of your 
 winter, and we should certainly come as near to 
 Hythe as Folkestone. Hythe is one of our homes, 
 and when we are anywhere else we are in exile — 
 partially at least. 
 
 " We are in the glory of our Fall weather, but 
 it is sad glory, and I shall not be sorry to turn my 
 back on the red leaves, though New York does not 
 tempt me. This is a good place to work ; but I 
 think I have worked enough, and I only wish New 
 York would play with me. 
 
 " My wife wishes to join my daughter and me 
 in love to you both, who are so often in our minds 
 and on our tongues. My daughter says to tell Mrs. 
 Lucy that she has adopted her fashion of tying 
 flowers into little bunches, as the only way to make 
 them stand up together in a bowl. 
 
 " No, we never got your letter at Genoa, but 
 we wiU forgive its loss if you will write us another 
 from Hythe. 
 
 "Yours sincerely, 
 
 "W. D. HOWELLS." 
 
 A gentleman at the end of the table in the 
 course of the dinner moving up tUl he sat in a 
 chair next to me, insisted upon my bringing my 
 wife to stay the week-end at his country house. 
 
"IN JOUENBYINGS OFTEN" 213 
 
 We went and had a delightful time. On returning 
 to New York we found awaiting us at the station 
 his motor car, placed at our disposal for what 
 remained of the day. I mention this as one of the 
 instances of spontaneous and abounding hospitality 
 of New Yorkers. Two ladies whom we had never 
 met before our arrival took it in turns to send 
 their carriage to take Mrs. Lucy a drive whenever 
 she was at liberty. For myself I attempted, I con- 
 fess ineffectually, to draw the line at suppers. We 
 were left to breakfast at the Waldorf, our head- 
 quarters. Thereafter there were luncheons, teas, 
 early dinners, the theatre or opera, with supper to 
 follow, either at Sherry's or Delmonico's. 
 
 One night at the latter hostelry, pressed to 
 partake of a quite unnecessary meal, I bethought 
 me of a Welsh rarebit as combining the maximum 
 of tastiness with the minimum of bulk. At the end 
 of half an hour the waiter brought in with a flourish 
 a covered dish, which he placed before me. I found 
 on tasting it something resembling the upper leather 
 of a tanned shoe passed through a meat mincer, 
 flavoured with much mustard, and temporarily 
 subjected to the influence of a red hot salamander 
 passed over its surface. I suppose it was the first 
 time in the history of this famous supper room that 
 a Welsh rarebit had been asked for. But Delmonico 
 was not to be done. The upper leather of an old 
 shoe — tan being of course selected on account of 
 its colour— was as nothing. So I had my Welsh 
 rarebit. Thereafter I took what my host provided. 
 
XXI 
 
 THEODORE ROOSEVELT AT THE WHITE HOUSE 
 
 Ltjkching with the Secretary of State and Mrs. 
 John Hay in their charming corner house in 
 Washington, there bustled into the room a plainly 
 dressed man of average height, sturdy figure, and 
 keen countenance. He was unannounced and 
 unaccompanied. It was only when we were in 
 casual manner introduced we learned that this was 
 the President of the United States, The day was 
 a Sunday in October, 1903. He had been to church 
 and on his way home dropped in for a few minutes' 
 chat with his colleague — the Statesman who did 
 much to establish his personal position and the in- 
 creased weight of the United States in the counsels 
 of the Western world. 
 
 Mr. Eoosevelt is the kind of man who would 
 make himself at home, whether in the backwoods 
 of the West, in the stately home the United States 
 provides its President, or anywhere in the wide 
 range that lies between these extremes. Healthy 
 in mind and body, he is gifted with the cheery 
 nature whose price is above rubies. His official 
 position, in respect of personal power mightier 
 
 214 
 
EOOSEVELT AT THE WHITE HOUSE 215 
 
 than that of some crowned monarchs in Europe, 
 brings him in contact with an endless procession of 
 interesting people. If he were cast away in some 
 remote clime — say on the boundary of Alaska, or 
 midway across the Isthmus of Panama — memory 
 would endow him with the companionship of an 
 innumerable caravan, including names the most 
 familiar and famous in the world's history. 
 
 These he has come to know in his library. 
 The President is an omnivorous reader. At one 
 turn of conversation he is reminded of a passage 
 in Homer, the next he is expatiating on the 
 history of "Tittlebat Titmouse." Contemporane- 
 ously with the announcement of the rebellion in 
 Panama, dexterously exploited by the President 
 and his Secretary of State, John Hay, a personality 
 as popular in London as in Washington, there was 
 published in the States a new edition of the works 
 of Samuel Warren. The time seemed to the 
 President opportune for renewing his acquaintance 
 with the works of the author of " Ten Thousand 
 a Year," so whilst the Opposition papers fulminated 
 denunciation of his Panama policy he read " Tittle- 
 bat Titmouse." As for Dickens, he knows him so 
 intimately that he would have been a dangerous 
 competitor in the contest initiated by Calverley in 
 his famous examination paper on "Pickwick." If 
 the President had failed. Senator Cabot Lodge, one 
 of the guests at the little luncheon party the 
 President gave for us, would certainly have won 
 the prize. Any who talk of the decadence of 
 
216 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Dickens should go to Washington and mix with 
 the cultured men of business who direct the destinies 
 of the United States. They would speedily dis- 
 cover their error. 
 
 How does ^the President, a man upon whose 
 personal labour the sun never sets, find time for 
 this miscellaneous reading? Well, all over the 
 world it is the exceptionally busy man who has 
 spare moments for desirable ends. The President 
 shares a secret possessed by Mr. Gladstone, whom 
 in his animated and varied conversation, with its 
 wide range and intimate acquaintance with any 
 topic started, he strongly resembles. 
 
 " All my life," Mr. G. once said to me, " I have 
 taken care of my ten minutes, certain that the 
 hours and the days would take care of themselves." 
 
 A Ministerial colleague who accompanied the 
 President on a recent trip westward told me of a 
 habit that explains everything. 
 
 "We travelled day after day," he said, "the 
 President addressing at successive stations crowds 
 of country folk. It was a pretty hard day's work 
 for the toughest of Eough Riders. For myself, 
 though I hadn't to make speeches, I was thankful 
 after the turmoil to turn into my berth for a snooze 
 or a rest. As soon as the train moved off, out 
 came the President's book, and he read away till, 
 the train pulling up at another crowded station, 
 a fresh speech was demanded, and delivered 
 under the abiding sense of supreme Ministerial 
 responsibility." 
 
E008EVELT AT THE WHITE HOUSE 217 
 
 This practice the President observes wherever 
 he is in residence. 
 
 " I read when I can," he says, " always a bit 
 before I go to bed. Sometimes, at periods of great 
 pressure, I awake about three in the morning. If 
 I lay there thinking of things I should be worried 
 to death, unfit for my work in the coming day. 
 So I switch on the light, take up a book, read a 
 chapter or two, fall asleep and wake up bright and 
 early." 
 
 White House is a charming residence, com- 
 manding a far-reaching view of tree-bowered 
 Washington with the Potomac gleaming in the 
 distance, and, beyond, the banks of Maryland — my 
 Maryland. No military pomp attends the ruler 
 of one of the greatest nations in the world. A 
 solitary policeman yawned by the front entrance 
 as we approached. He did not think it his duty 
 to inquire what authority the strangers had to 
 mount the steps of the private residence of the 
 President. 
 
 We chanced to be invited guests ; that was 
 mere accident. Any citizen in this free-born 
 country has the right to cross the President's 
 threshold and insist on shaking hands with him. 
 Thus elsewhere on a memorable day came the 
 murderer of President McKinley, with his treacher- 
 ous right hand bound in sham bandage. Falling 
 in with the crowd that filed past the beaming, 
 welcoming President, he held out his left hand. 
 As his victim took it in friendly grip, he, throwing 
 
218 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 off the bandage from his right hand, levelled a 
 pistol and killed him. 
 
 For this and more ordinary reason President 
 Eoosevelt's colleagues in the Ministry urge him to 
 discontinue the custom of wholesale handshaking. 
 At one of his levees he consented to the innovation. 
 The experience was unendurable. 
 
 " The very last time ! " he called out to the 
 attendant Ministers as the affronted crowd stood 
 at gaze. "It is much more trouble to explain 
 why I don't shake hands than it is to shake," 
 
 In his philosophical, cheery way the President 
 makes the best of what is an intolerable nuisance. 
 
 " When I was a young man," he said, " I lived 
 mostly out of doors, and enjoyed abundant exercise. 
 Now I can't get much. But you go and stand in 
 my place on an autumn afternoon and have your 
 hand shaken by from three hundred to one 
 thousand sturdy citizens, and if when it's over 
 you don't feel as if you had been felling a tree 
 or two you are made of harder grit than I." 
 
 President Eoosevelt has inherited at the White 
 House many valuable engravings and paintings, 
 the latter including portraits of some famous 
 predecessors in the chair. 
 
 " Come along, Toby," he said after luncheon, 
 " come up to my study and I'll show you one of 
 the most precious of my art treasures." 
 
 Hanging on the wall near his desk was Bernard 
 Partridge's original drawing which appeared in 
 Punch shortly after the Vice-President was 
 
EOOSBVBLT AT THE WHITE HOUSE 219 
 
 suddenly called to assume the Presidency. " The 
 Kough Eider " is its title, and it bears the inscrip- 
 tion " With Mr. Punch's compliments to President 
 Roosevelt." 
 
 " I had many complimentary messages at the 
 time," said the President. " I don't remember any 
 that gave me more pleasure than this greeting 
 across the sea from an old friend I have known 
 and studied nearly all my life," 
 
XXII 
 
 MARK TWAIN 
 
 One night in June, 1907, talk at the PmwcA dinner- 
 table turned upon Mark Twain, who had been a 
 recent guest. Linley Sambourne, in that re- 
 flective tone and manner that add interest to his 
 reminiscences, remarked — 
 
 " The first time I met Mark Twain was at the 
 last supper " 
 
 A roar of feigned indignation greeted this 
 apparent sacrilege. When it subsided Sammy, as 
 he is affectionately known at the table, continued — 
 
 " — at the last supper given by Shirley Brooks 
 in 1873." 
 
 The first time / met Mark Twain in the flesh 
 we were fellow-guests at the hospitable board of 
 Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, at that time still 
 afar off from the Premiership. He sat next but 
 one to the host, I being separated from him by the 
 lady he had taken down to dinner. He was 
 supremely dull, never once scintillating into a flash 
 of humour. The next time was at the table in 
 Tite Street of bis fellow-countryman, E. A. Abbey, 
 E.A. Then we saw and enjoyed the real Mark. 
 
 220 
 
MAEK TWAIN 221 
 
 Amongst the small but joyous company were Du 
 Maurier of Punch, and Sargent, E.A., who had 
 already taken the British public by storm with his 
 wonderful pictures, Mark Twain sat immediately 
 opposite me at a table not too broad for easy 
 conversation. 
 
 When the cigars went round, it turned upon 
 journalism in its varied forms, more especially on 
 the disproportionate profits accruing to proprietors 
 of successful ventures, as compared with the salaries 
 of the contributors who give the paper a start and 
 keep it going. Either Mark or I — I forget which, 
 the happy thought was more probably his — 
 suggested an entirely new periodical. It was to 
 be called The Obituary. Difficulties about division 
 of profits were simplified by an arrangement that 
 there were to be only two proprietors, Mark and I, 
 that we were to be the sole stafi", and were to 
 equally share the revenues of the undertaking. 
 
 The broad but simple idea of the new paper 
 was this. We were to fix upon a man in public 
 life, preferably a wealthy person, and write, in the 
 form of an obituary notice, a sketch of his career 
 and a study of his character involving heinous 
 charges, embodying an appreciation of his cha- 
 racter calculated to make him turn in his freshly 
 dug grave. The article being set up in type 
 was to be sent to the object of the kindly 
 thought under cover of a letter, saying that unless 
 we received down on the nail a sum ranging from 
 £100 to £500, according to the estimated capacity 
 
222 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 of the purse of the subject of our memoir, the 
 article would appear in The Obituari/ contempo- 
 raneously with the announcement of his death. 
 
 A year later I wrote Mark Twain informing 
 him of a contemplated visit to the United States. 
 He replied — 
 
 " QuAERT Fabm, Elmiea, New Toek, 
 " October Uh, '03. 
 
 " My dear Lucy, — Your letter went to Hart- 
 ford and thereby lost a couple of days, arriving 
 in this remote corner only to-day. Still, I may 
 possibly be able to catch you with a word of 
 welcome before you sail. But I can hardly hope 
 for the good luck of seeing you, for we go on board 
 our ship (bound for Italy) the evening of October 
 23rd, and your ship will come in next day, after 
 we shall have sailed. 
 
 " I am sending to Hartford for that Punchy and 
 win forward it to Helen Keller, whom you and 
 Mrs. Lucy must see and know. She is well worth 
 a journey. I shall speak to her publisher in New 
 York, F. N. Doubleday, whom you must also 
 know, and his partners and editors. Page and 
 Lanier (brother of the late poet and scholar), all 
 good fellows. And you must know Gilder (if you 
 don't already) and Harvey and the others, and 
 Howells. 
 
 "I have made a store of money out of our 
 obituary scheme, and am escaping out of the 
 country to avoid the embarrassment of accounting. 
 
MAEK TWAIN 223 
 
 But do not mind ; you are good and God will take 
 care of you. 
 
 " And we are leaving on another account. Mrs. 
 Clemens has been a helpless victim of nervous 
 prostration for fourteen months, and we hope a 
 year in Italy will put her on her feet. The doctors 
 believe it. We have secured a villa on the slope 
 by Fiesole. 
 
 " Mrs. Clemens joins me in kind regards and 
 warm welcome to you and Mrs. Lucy. 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 
 "S. L. Clemens." 
 
 The reference to Punch touches a notice I had 
 written in its pages of a life of Helen Keller, a 
 girl born deaf and dumb, trained by a clever 
 governess to a condition that made her almost 
 regardless of her infirmities. I was invited to 
 meet her when in New York, but was unfortunately 
 engaged, and missed an opportunity much prized 
 throughout the United States. 
 
 On the arrival of our ship at New York I found 
 myself confronted by eleven representatives of as 
 many newspapers, intent upon an interview. The 
 most persistent and implacable was a lady. In the 
 course of conversation they happened to mention 
 that Mark Twain was that same morning sailing 
 for Italy. I told them in brief the story of our 
 projected joint literary enterprise. The effect was 
 almost uncanny. Folding their notebook (so un- 
 like the Arab), they stole away, making tracks for 
 
224 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 the gateway of the wharf giving on to the street, 
 the lady reporter in the first flight. The following 
 morning's paper explained the mystery. They had 
 bolted off to the wharf whence Mark Twain's 
 vessel would «presently start, and got his version 
 of the story. It appeared with some embellish- 
 ments under many headlines. One paper started 
 off with the announcement : " Lose One Humorist 
 But Get Another; Mark Twain Sails for Italy. 
 H. W. Lucy, Toby, M.P., Arrives Here." Another 
 proclaimed : " Here's England's Funniest Man. 
 H. W. Lucy, Champion Humorist Arrives." 
 
 A year after Mark's return from Italy he wrote 
 to me — 
 
 " My dear Lucy, — The enclosed is a feeler 
 flung forward in the interests of our Obituary as 
 planned by us at Mr. Bryce's dinner that night. 
 
 " I mean to spend all the net profits stored up 
 to now in advertising the letter. You see the 
 little game? When attention is fixed on this 
 ballon d'essai we will rip in with a prospectus of 
 the Obittmr^ Co. (Lim.) offering ordinary shares 
 to the public at a premium, keeping founders' 
 shares for ourselves. See ? 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " Mark." 
 
 Mark is in error about the birthplace of 
 the great project. The high-jinks were not 
 played at the dinner-table of the author of 
 
MARK TWAIN 225 
 
 " The Holy Roman Empire," but, as I have said, 
 in the more congenial atmosphere of Tite Street. 
 
 This is the enclosure. It assumes to be ad- 
 dressed to the Editor of a newspaper. 
 
 To the Editor. 
 
 " Sir, — I am approaching seventy ; it is in 
 sight; it is only three years away. Necessarily, 
 I must go soon. It is but a matter-of-course 
 wisdom, then, that I should begin to set my 
 worldly house in order now so that it may be done 
 calmly and with thoroughness, in place of waiting 
 until the last day, when, as we have often seen, 
 the attempt to set both houses in order at the 
 same time has been marred by the necessity for 
 haste and by the confusion and waste of time 
 arising from the inability of the notary and the 
 ecclesiastic to work together harmoniously, taking 
 turn about and giving each other friendly assist- 
 ance — ^not perhaps in fielding, which could hardly 
 be expected, but at least in the minor offices of 
 keeping game and umpiring. By consequence of 
 which conflict of interest and absence of har- 
 monious action, a draw has frequently resulted 
 where this ill-fortune could not have happened if 
 the houses had been set in order one at a time and 
 hurry avoided by beginning in season, and giving 
 to each the amount of time fairly and justly proper 
 to it. 
 
 " In setting my earthly house in order I find it 
 of moment that I should attend in person to one 
 
 Q 
 
226 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 or two matters which men in my position have 
 long had the habit of leaving wholly to others, 
 with consequences often most regrettable. I wish 
 to speak of only one of these matters at this time. 
 Obituaries. .Of necessity, an obituary is a thing 
 which cannot be so judiciously edited by any hand 
 as by that of the subject of it. In such a work 
 it is not the facts that are of chief importance, but 
 the light which the obituarist shall throw upon 
 them, the meanings which he shall dress them in, 
 the conclusions which he shall draw from them, 
 and the judgments which he shall deliver upon 
 them. The verdicts, you understand. That is 
 the danger-line. 
 
 " In considering this matter, in view of my 
 approachiug change, it has seemed to me wise to 
 take such measures as may be feasible, to acquire, 
 by courtesy of the Press, access to my standing 
 obituaries, with the privilege — if this is not asking 
 too much — of editing, not their facts, but their 
 verdicts. This, not for present profit, further than 
 as concerns my family, but as a favourable influence 
 usable on the other side, where there are some who 
 are not friendly to me. 
 
 " With this explanation of my motives, I will 
 now ask you of your courtesy to make an appeal 
 for me to the public Press. It is my desire that 
 such journals and periodicals as have obituaries of 
 me lying in their pigeon holes, with a view to 
 sudden use some day, wiU not wait longer, but will 
 publish them now, and kindly send me a marked 
 
MAEK TWAIN 227 
 
 copy. My address is simply New York city. I 
 have no other that is permanent and not transient. 
 
 " I will correct them — not the Facts but the 
 Verdicts — striking out such clauses as could have 
 a deleterious influence on the Other Side, and 
 replacing them with clauses of a more judicious 
 character. I should, of course, expect to pay 
 double rates for both the omissions and the sub- 
 stitutions ; and I should also expect to pay 
 quadruple rates for all obituaries which proved to 
 be rightly and wisely worded in the originals, thus 
 requiring no emendations at all. 
 
 "It is my desire to leave these Amended 
 Obituaries neatly bound behind me as a perennial 
 consolation and entertainment to my family, and 
 as an heirloom which shall have a mournful but 
 definite commercial value for my remote posterity. 
 
 " I beg, sir, that you will insert this Advertise- 
 ment and send the bill to 
 
 " Yours very respectfully 
 
 "Mark Twain. 
 
 "P.S. — For the best Obituary — one suitable 
 for me to read in public, and calculated to inspire 
 regret — I desire to offer a prize, consisting of a 
 portrait of me done entirely by myself in pen 
 and ink without previous instruction. The ink 
 warranted to be the kind used by the very best 
 artists." 
 
 Mark Twain had a right royal time when he 
 visited London in the season of 1907. From the 
 
228 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 King, wlio specially honoured him as a guest at 
 the Windsor Garden party, down to the cabmen 
 on the rank who recognised his striking face from 
 his portrait, he was welcomed with a warmth 
 extended to* few literary men. The American 
 Ambassador, Mr. Whitelaw Reid, gave at Dor- 
 chester House a banquet in his honour. The 
 company included Lord Tennyson (President of 
 the Royal Literary Fund), the P. R. A., the Poet 
 Laureate, Mr. Herkomer, Conan Doyle, Anthony 
 Hope, Ahna Tadema, and Edwin Abbey. It was 
 naturally expected that the occasion would be 
 marked by at least a couple of speeches, one pro- 
 posing a toast to the guest of the evening, the 
 other in response. When, cigars being lit and 
 coffee served, the host rose from his chair, we all 
 thought the moment had come. To every one's 
 surprise, Mr. Reid gave the signal for moving into 
 the next room. 
 
 Mark confessed to me that he shared the 
 general surprise. He had in fact prepared the 
 notes of a speech, carefully conveying the MS. in 
 his breast coat pocket. 
 
 " But I'll make a good thing out of it," he said 
 cheerily. " I'U cable it to New York and will get 
 two hundred dollars for its exclusive publication." 
 
 Meeting him a day or two later, he told me he 
 had carried out his plan, and was £50 to the good 
 because he didn't make a speech. 
 
 Amidst a constant succession of honours paid 
 him during his stay in London, he counted at 
 
MAEK TWAIN 229 
 
 highest value the bestowal upon him of an honorary- 
 degree by the Oxford University and the invitation 
 to dine at the Punch table. This last was unique 
 in its way, since the Punch dining-room is " tiled " 
 more jealously than a Freemasons' meeting-room. 
 Old traditions were preserved to the extent that 
 the dinner was not one of the regular weekly 
 symposia. But it was given in the dining-room, 
 at the table on which are carved the names of the 
 staff, going back to the days of Mark Lemon. The 
 guest of the evening was not on this occasion let 
 off without a speech. In mingled pathos and 
 humour, it excelled his efforts elsewhere. 
 
 A little incident in the festival greatly charmed 
 him. When he was led into the dining-room, a 
 cupboard door opened, and forth stepped a little 
 fairy in the person of the daughter of Phil Agnew. 
 She carried the original drawing by Bernard Part- 
 ridge of a cartoon welcoming Mark Twain to 
 London, which had appeared in Punch a fortnight 
 earlier. It was presented to Mark as a memento of 
 the occasion. 
 
XXIII 
 
 PARLIAMENT AND THE PRESS 
 
 In the year 1905 I was made a defendant in an 
 action for libel brought against Mr. " Punch," with 
 the result that he was cast in damages to the tune 
 of £300, an incident rare, if not unique, in his long 
 and honourable career. I mention the matter for 
 the purpose of recording and explaining a move- 
 ment that took place in the House of Commons 
 as soon as the verdict was returned. There was 
 an evident determination that I should not 
 suffer pecuniarily. As the result of conversation 
 in the Smoke Eoom, on the Terrace, and other 
 resorts. Colonel Mark Lockwood, one of the most 
 popular men in a succession of Parliaments, 
 was asked to take the post of treasurer of an 
 indemnity fund. He readily consented, but pointed 
 out that the compliment would be more valuable 
 if it were devoid of anything suggestive of politics. 
 He was a prominent member of the Unionist Party. 
 It would be well if a joint treasurer were appointed 
 in the person of a member of the then Opposition. 
 The point was readUy conceded, and Mr. WUliam 
 
 230 
 
PARLIAMENT AND THE PRESS 231 
 
 Jones, a Welsh member of uncompromising Kadical 
 principles, was joined with the Colonel in the 
 friendly undertaking. 
 
 The time was unpropitious. The month of 
 August had been entered on, and after a laborious 
 Session many members had left town on holidays 
 more or less distant. Nevertheless the movement 
 promptly met with gratifying success. The original 
 intention, set forth in the circular issued by the 
 joint treasurers, was to invite only "Toby M.P.'s" 
 personal friends in the House of Commons to sub- 
 scribe. The matter was, however, quickly taken 
 up in the House of Lords, many peers sending in 
 subscriptions unsolicited. With the object of 
 widening the area of sympathisers subscriptions 
 were limited to one guinea. 
 
 Of the scores of letters I received from 
 members on both sides of the House I quote the 
 subjoined from Sir Horace Plunkett, at the time 
 Vice-President of the Irish Department of Agricul- 
 ture and Technical Instruction — 
 
 " KiLDAKE Street Club, Dublin, 
 
 "Aiyust 12, 1905. 
 
 "My dear Lucy, 
 
 " I have had my nose kept so con- 
 stantly to the official grindstone here of late that 
 the daily newspaper cuttings which my Private 
 Secretary feeds me with have piled up on my desk. 
 Hence I did not notice until quite late the fact that 
 your friends had started a subscription to relieve 
 
232 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 you of some of the expense in whicli you have been 
 involved by the kind of ill luck from which you 
 of aU men might reasonably have expected to be 
 immune. 
 
 » 
 " I believe I am late for the movement of 
 
 your friends, but will you allow me to contribute 
 
 through you the enclosed cheque, which but for 
 
 my dilatoriness I should have sent with greater 
 
 pleasure to the Committee, as I should like to have 
 
 been associated with them in their very agreeable 
 
 tribute to your work and worth. 
 
 "I hope you are now getting down to your 
 
 country home, where I send this letter with my 
 
 kindest remembrances to the Rural Secretary, and 
 
 best wishes for the future immunity of yourself 
 
 from such extravagant ill luck. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "Horace Plunkett." 
 
 The personality of the subscribers added largely 
 to the value of the generous testimony. In the 
 first list of the joiat treasurers, including one 
 hundred names, were those of the Speaker (Mr. 
 Lowther), the ex-Speaker (Viscount Selby), the 
 Prime Minister (Mr. Arthur Balfour), the Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer, the ex-Chancellor of the 
 Exchequer (Mr. Eitchie), the Colonial Secretary, 
 the Minister of Agriculture, the Postmaster-General, 
 the Parliamentary Secretary to the Board of Educa- 
 tion, the Secretary to the Local Government Board, 
 
PAELIAMENT AND THE PEBSS 233 
 
 the Solicitor-General for Ireland, the Solicitor- 
 General for England, Mr. Asquith, K.C., Mr. 
 Fletcher Moulton, K.C., Mr. Haldane, K.C., Mr, 
 Kobson, K.C., the Duke of Argyll, Mr. Chamber- 
 lain, the Marquis of Ripon, the Earl of Crewe, 
 Viscount Ridley, Lord Rothschild, Lord James of 
 Hereford, Lord Rathmore, Lord Burnham, Lord 
 Denman, Sir Henry Fowler, Sir Edward Grey, Lord 
 Monkswell, Mr. Bryce, Sir Arthur Hayter, Sir 
 Charles Dilke, and Lord Hugh Cecil. 
 
 Such a demonstration, emanating from so wide, 
 diversified, and distinguished a source, more than 
 compensated for the worry and expense entailed 
 by the law proceedings. It was the more valuable 
 and gratifying since, whUst through the more than 
 thirty years I had been daily and weekly discoursing 
 about Parliamentary aflfairs, I had never concealed 
 my opinion about personalities, never been false to 
 my political conviction, never modified expression 
 of either save at the dictates of good taste. 
 
 In the afiair I recognised a leading impulse in 
 the respect and esteem with which my august 
 master, Mr. " Punch," is regarded in Parliamentary 
 circles. Any portion of the kindness that may 
 have overflowed in my personal direction is hereby 
 gratefully acknowledged. 
 
 In the preceding spring I received other evi- 
 dence of the personal friendship of a large body 
 of members of the House of Commons. Having 
 retired from the post of Parliamentary Summary 
 writer to the Daily Telegraph, assumed when, in 
 
234 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 1900, the Daily News passed under new proprietor- 
 ship, I found myself at the opening of the session 
 of 1904 without the right of entrance to the Press 
 Gallery. The rules which govern admission to that 
 sanctum are. as unintelligent as they are arbitrary. 
 Half a century ago, when the English Press was 
 something quite different from the institution of 
 to-day, admission to the Gallery was limited to the 
 London morning papers. Each had allotted to it two 
 boxes, one for the leader and summary writer, the 
 other for the reporting staff. The Times had, and to 
 this day retains, three boxes. When, on the cheap- 
 ening of the telegraph service, the country Press 
 grew in power and in number, establishing London 
 offices and engaging London staffs, pressure was 
 brought to bear on the authorities of the House 
 of Commons to provide accommodation in the 
 Press Gallery. After long resistance this was con- 
 ceded, by taking in a portion of the members' side 
 galleries, sufficing for the construction of ten 
 additional boxes. 
 
 This was an innovation calculated to make the 
 typical Serjeant-at-Arms turn in his family grave. 
 Whilst the concession to modern development was 
 grudgingly made there was rigidly preserved the 
 old tradition that admission to the Press Gallery 
 was obtainable only by men directly representing 
 the papers on the official list. The last eight years 
 have seen the birth and growth of the halfpenny 
 morning paper. In some instances circulation, 
 according to uncontradicted declaration, to-day 
 
PAELIAMENT AND THE PEBSS 235 
 
 far exceeds that of any of the older papers recog- 
 nised in the Press Gallery. Yet I, representing 
 one of these, having undertaken to contribute to 
 the Daily Express a special article throughout the 
 Session, found myself not only without a box in 
 the Press Gallery but my name was struck off 
 the Lobby List, at the head of which it stood by 
 seniority. The halfpenny morning papers directly 
 concerned have with cynical effect since put this 
 matter right by buying up morning papers of old 
 standing in London and the provinces, with the 
 result that they now have something equal to 
 one-half of the whole accommodation of the Press 
 Gallery from which they were at the outset 
 excluded. 
 
 Meanwhile, in order to perform my work in 
 connection with quarters wide apart from the 
 Daily Express, it was necessary that I should 
 have access during the sittings both to the Press 
 Gallery and the Lobby. I confess it seemed 
 reasonable, as in the event it proved to be the 
 opinion of a large section of the House of 
 Commons, that the hard-and-fast rule might in 
 my case have been varied, the freedom of the 
 Press Gallery and the Lobby, enjoyed over 
 thirty years, being confirmed on personal grounds. 
 Assuming that the Gallery was provided as a 
 means of securing information for the public of 
 what went on at Westminster, it seemed absurd 
 to put up the bars against one whose daily and 
 weekly circle of readers was probably equal to 
 
236 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 the aggregate of ten ordinary holders of Gallery- 
 tickets. 
 
 However, the existence of such a rule saves 
 trouble to the constituted authorities. They en- 
 trench themselves behind it when occasion arises. 
 Thus it befell that I was shut out from any part 
 of the House, except that open to the ordinary 
 stranger. On this becoming known I had within 
 the space of a single week communications from 
 between seventy and eighty members offering to 
 ballot daily for places in the Strangers' Gallery, 
 so that I might be assured of entrance. The 
 Speaker, whilst pointing out that the jurisdiction 
 of the Press Gallery rested not with him but with 
 the Serjeant-at-Arms, gave instructions that when- 
 ever there was room below the Strangers' Gallery 
 on the floor of the House I should be passed in 
 by the doorkeeper without the necessity of making 
 formal application for admission. 
 
 This still left untouched the question of my 
 exclusion from the Lobby, a serious impediment 
 to performance of my daily work. Having failed 
 in other quarters, I appealed to Mr. Arthur Bal- 
 four, then Prime Minister. He approached the 
 Speaker, who at once decided to create a precedent, 
 giving me access to the Lobby, not in accordance 
 with the rule as representative of a particular 
 paper, but in my own name. 
 
 In communicating the decision the Speaker 
 graciously wrote : " I have been very glad to have 
 been able to maintain the policy of the open door 
 
PAELIAMENT AND THE PEESS 237 
 
 for you. To have closed the door would have 
 caused an eclipse of the gaiety of Parliament ; or, 
 to speak more accurately, it would have shut out 
 those little shafts of light with which you daily 
 and weekly pierce our Cimmerian darkness." 
 
XXIV 
 
 "MR. SPEAKER GOSCHEN " 
 
 Every one knows that at a critical moment in his 
 career, and in the life of Lord Salisbury's second 
 Administration, Lord Eandolph Churchill " forgot 
 Goschen." Less familiar to the public, in its detaU 
 here for the first time made known, is the fact that 
 Mr. Goschen was almost nominated for the Chair 
 of the House of Commons. 
 
 On the retirement of Mr. Speaker Brand in 
 1884 Mr. Gladstone pressed upon him the honour 
 of the Speakership. A member of the 1880-5 
 Ministry told me of the circumstance, and gave 
 me some particulars, to which allusion was made 
 in notes " From Behind the Speaker's Chair," pub- 
 lished in the Strand Magazine. 
 
 I was given to understand that Mr. Goschen, 
 not unwUling to accept the Chair, was doubtful 
 whether his physical shortsightedness would enable 
 him to fulfil its duties. He could with difficulty 
 recognise faces across the Table of the House. For 
 members below the gangway to attempt to " catch 
 his eye," even when it seemed to regard them with 
 friendly interest from the Speaker's chair, would be 
 
 238 
 
"ME. SPEAKEE GOSCHEN " 239 
 
 hopeless. According to my information, an experi- 
 ment was made, Mr. Goschen seating himself in 
 the chair, and a number of his colleagues dis- 
 persing themselves on seats on either side below 
 the gangway. The result was that he definitely 
 declined the profiered post. 
 
 With a view, as he subsequently told me, to 
 having the facts of the case authoritatively recorded 
 when a proper time presented itself, Mr. Goschen 
 sent me the following written statement. It is 
 dated from the Admiralty, August 17, 1896. 
 
 " I have just read your account of the circum- 
 stances under which I declined the Speakership. 
 The story as you give it is not quite accurate. It 
 is always difficult to collect the right facts even of 
 comparatively recent history. The ' rehearsal ' in 
 the House of Commons did not take place. It was 
 a letter from the great oculist. Bowman, which 
 confirmed the doubts which I had expressed to Mr. 
 Gladstone from the very first as to my physical 
 capacity for the post, which settled the matter 
 negatively. 
 
 "It was very characteristic of Mr. Gladstone 
 that he sent himself for Mr. Bowman whom I had 
 consulted as to my sight, and by his powers of 
 persuasion obtained a favourable verdict from the 
 specialist. But when the latter got home, he 
 repented of his assent and wrote a letter to Mr. 
 Gladstone pointing out the difficulties under which 
 I might labour when the House was in a state of 
 
240 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 •excitement and a rapid glance was essential. Mr. 
 G. was annoyed, and thought Mr. Bowman had 
 gone beyond the points on which he had been 
 specially consulted, and wrote me that he had not 
 altered his own opinion as to my fitness, but that 
 I was now at liberty to claim my freedom. 
 
 " I at once stated that I could not, after such 
 a letter, undertake the post ; and, to tell you the 
 truth, I felt a great sense of relief, not disappoint- 
 ment — for I had been half-hearted about the 
 matter from ' the first. I had, however, refused 
 two great posts which Mr. G. had kindly ofiered 
 me, and I was persuaded into accepting this third 
 ofier. 
 
 " I mention these points to you, as I think Mr. 
 Gladstone's action, illustrating his great force of 
 will, may not be uninteresting to you. 
 
 ".Believe me, yours very faithfully, 
 
 "GeOBGE J. GOSCHEN." 
 
 It is quite possible that, apart from considera- 
 tion of Mr. Goschen's special qualifications for 
 the lofty position in question, the simple-minded 
 Premier ^may have perceived an opportunity of 
 permanently removing from the arena of active 
 politics a dangerous combatant. He early recog- 
 nised Mr. Goschen's ability, recruiting him to his 
 Government of 1868 in Cabinet position. In 1880, 
 when a flood of Liberal enthusiasm reinstated Mr. 
 Gladstone in power, he had gone so far along the 
 Liberal track that Mr. Goschen was unable to 
 
"ME. SPEAKER GOSCHEN" 241 
 
 accept oflSce in a Ministry which, among other 
 things, were pledged to assimilate the county 
 and borough franchise. The Premier showed his 
 esteem by nominating Mr. Goschen, who still sat 
 on the Liberal benches, to the post of Ambassador 
 Extraordinary to Constantinople. His mission 
 accomplished, he wrote to his old colleague, 
 "principally for the purpose of offering you my 
 hearty congratulations on the place you have 
 taken in diplomacy by force of mind and character, 
 and of the services which, in thus far serving the 
 most honourable aims a man can have, you have 
 rendered to liberty and humanity." This was a 
 letter Mr. Goschen treasured long after he had 
 finally broken with his old leader. 
 
 All the same, if Mr. Goschen could be com- 
 fortably settled in the Chair, possible embarrassment 
 in the dim and distant future would be avoided. 
 
 As his letter to me sets forth, the Speakership 
 was not to be for him. Whether Mr. Gladstone 
 had or had not any " arriere pensee " in so eagerly 
 urging him to take the Chair, is a secret locked up 
 in the tomb at Westminster Abbey. But the 
 prevision suggested was justified to the fullest 
 extent. Mr. Goschen, remaining a private Member, 
 went over to the Conservative side, and became a 
 chief prop of Lord Salisbury's Government. Had 
 he at the close of the Session of 1886 been throned 
 in the Speaker's Chair, the course of events con- 
 trolling the Government and affecting national 
 affairs would have been widely different. 
 
242 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Except in one detail, Lord Kandolph Churchill 
 was doubtless correct in his calculation that he was 
 indispensable to the Administration, in the aggre- 
 gate personally weak, he had done much to place 
 in power, • But for that one thing Lord Salisbury 
 would have been obliged to capitulate to his head- 
 strong young colleague, who would have gone 
 back to the Cabinet firmly rooted in even more 
 autocratic habits than he had displayed to the 
 terror of Mr. W. H. Smith and Viscount Cross. 
 He " forgot Goschen," and that statesman, chancing 
 to be free from the trammels of the Chair, was 
 able to accept the vacant Chancellorship of the 
 Exchequer, leaving Lord Eandolph for ever out in 
 the cold. 
 
 In 1895 Mr. Goschen returned to his post at 
 the Admiralty, to which he had been inducted by 
 Mr. Gladstone twenty-four years earlier. He held 
 it till, in 1900, his services to the Unionist party 
 were rewarded by a viscountcy, which seemed to 
 bring to a term his long and brilliant career in 
 the fighting ranks of British statesmen. Among 
 several interesting letters from him, I find one 
 dated from Seacox Heath, Hawkhurst, October 6, 
 1900— 
 
 " Dear Mr. Lucy, — Punch of last Wednesday 
 was a great pleasure to me and mine. And I was 
 all the more pleased because Mr. Sambourne's 
 picture was a real pendant to one which I highly 
 prize — Tenniel's picture of me at the time when I 
 
"ME. SPEAKER GOSCHEN " 243 
 
 was appointed to the Admiralty in 1 8 7 1 . ' Captain 
 Punch' then welcomed me with the words (as I 
 was holding on to the steering-wheel of a ship), 
 'Hold on, Mr. Goschen, hold on, Sir. You'll be 
 all right when you've got your sea legs.' 
 
 "And now Mr. Punch bids me good-bye in 
 equally genial fashion. 
 
 " I liked the motto assigned to me very much : 
 'Short-sighted for himself; far-sighted for the 
 nation,' and am grateful to its inventor. — Thanking 
 you for your pleasant note, I am, yours very 
 truly, 
 
 " George J. Goschen." 
 
 In spite of physical defects in the matter of 
 near-sightedness, and a certain ungainly manner 
 when posing himself for a speech, Mr. Goschen was 
 one of the great Parliamentary leaders who were 
 equally effective on the public platform and in 
 the House of Commons. In the course of his 
 career he had wide experience of platform speak- 
 ing, the excitement of which he much enjoyed. 
 Talking one night at the dianer-table (where 
 he always shone) about the varying quality of 
 public audiences, he said : " Broadly speaking, the 
 further north the political orator travels the better 
 — I mean the more inspiriting — will he find his 
 audience. Going into particulars, I should say 
 that in this aspect London is the worst of all 
 The best audiences are Scotch. In my personal 
 experience, the pick of them is found at Glasgow. 
 
244 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne is excellent ; Liverpool second- 
 rate ; Birmingham so-so." 
 
 This judgment is the more striking since while 
 London was accustomed to find a safe seat for 
 him, Edinburgh sent him to the rightabout. 
 
XXV 
 
 A LBCTUBINa TOUE 
 
 In 1897 the Directors of the Crystal Palace, desir- 
 ing to pay a tribute to Queen Victoria on the 
 sixtieth anniversary of her coming to the Throne, 
 projected a series of lectures upon various features 
 of her long reign, to be delivered by experts in the 
 concert room. At ' the instance of Sir Arthur 
 Otway, sometime Chairman of Ways and Means 
 in the House of Commons, I was selected to treat 
 the subject of the Parliaments of the Victorian era. 
 I could not plead that I was " unacquainted with 
 public speaking," having suffered it through many 
 Sessions. But I had never appeared on a public 
 platform and did not recognise in myself aptitude 
 for the position. Sir Arthur Otway was encourag- 
 ing and insistent, and I yielded. 
 
 Instinctively feeling that the insufficiency of 
 the lecturer demanded exceptional attraction in 
 the person of the chairman, I wrote to Sir William 
 Harcourt, asking him to preside. He replied — 
 
 " 7, ElCHMOND TeEEACE, WHITEHALL, 
 
 "January 22,19,27. 
 " Dear Lucy, — My real desire to do what you 
 wish makes me, multum reluctante, consent to your 
 
 245 
 
246 SIXTY YBABS IN THE WILDEBNESS 
 
 proposal, though I practise an inexorable veto 
 against public functions of all kinds outside the 
 House of Commons during the Session, and am 
 obliged to accommodate the burden to aged limbs. 
 As regards, public ceremonies and speeches I feel, 
 as in the case of war, if they must come sooner or 
 later, better later, and if we are to throw stones 
 in a glass house I think May more propitious than 
 March, Therefore if I should happen to be alive I 
 will do my possible to sit — not stand — by you on 
 May 12. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "W. V. Haecourt." 
 
 On the approach of the, to me, eventful day 
 reports appeared in the newspapers notifying that 
 Sir William was confined to his room by illness. 
 These were confirmed by receipt of the following 
 letter : — 
 
 " My deae Lucy, — You are aware that an in- 
 fluence over which I have no control has disabled 
 me from all the oflfices of public duty and personal 
 enjoyment. It is a real disappointment to me to 
 find myself deprived of the opportunity of assisting 
 in the character of one of the oldest inhabitants at 
 your lecture on the House of Commons. I feel 
 sure it will be a most interesting and instructive 
 reading in comparative anatomy by an experienced 
 physiologist, who is t^ell acquainted with the body 
 politic it will be his business to dissect. We who 
 
A LBCTUEING TOUE 247 
 
 are your subjects recognise in your kindly hand 
 the art of a skilful surgeon who knows how to 
 operate on his patients under ansesthetics without 
 pain. A critic without malice and a reviewer 
 without prejudice is a character on which the 
 House of Commons may congratulate itself, and 
 by whom it may profit. Humour, above all good 
 Humour, is the salt of life, and you have set the 
 example in applying to politics this excellent 
 antiseptic. 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 " W. V. Harcourt." 
 
 Only a few days were left for me to seek 
 another chairman. Mr. G-. W. B. Eussell, an old 
 Parliamentary hand whose premature withdrawal 
 from the arena of the House of Commons has been 
 to its distinct disadvantage, kindly stepped into 
 the breach. I was more sorry for him than for 
 myself at the result of the enterprise. The hall, 
 which may be well enough as a concert room, is a 
 gloomy sepulchre of ordered speech. It was not 
 more than half full, and, as those on the back seats 
 could only partly hear, lihere was no approach to 
 enthusiasm. We got along somehow. George 
 Russell made a cheery speech. As for me, having 
 among few natural gifts endowment of something 
 of the mental habit of Mark Tapley in adverse 
 circumstances, I betrayed no discomfiture. Per- 
 haps I was buoyed up by reflection on the fact (a 
 consolation not shared by my chairman) that, in 
 
248 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 addition to the fee paid by the Crystal Palace 
 Directors, the editor of the North American Review 
 had offered me £50 for the manuscript of the 
 lecture, which was published in two successive 
 numbers of his magazine. 
 
 Amongst the audience, unknown to me, was a 
 gentleman whose presence had important influence 
 on subsequent events. He was the manager of 
 the leading London Lecture Agency, and was so 
 far favourably impressed with the discourse that 
 he asked me to permit him to obtain for me 
 engagements to deliver it in various parts of the 
 country. As the lecture season faUs during the 
 Parliamentary Eecess, I, under the impression that 
 the enterprise would involve some six or eight 
 excursions, left the matter in his hands. Before 
 the season opened he had booked over forty 
 engagements in London and the provinces, a 
 considerable number of invitations coming from 
 Scotland. 
 
 It was pretty hard work, there being rarely a 
 day's intermission from a railway journey with a 
 lecture at night. The tour actually took the form 
 of a series of visits to the town and country houses 
 of friends. I do not think that through the long 
 course of travel I more than three times put up at 
 an hotel. There was perhaps a tendency to kill 
 one with kindness. Invariably my host made the 
 visit occasion for a banquet, to which he bade a 
 considerable number of guests. This was not 
 the best preparation for delivery of a lecture of 
 
A LECTURING TODE 249 
 
 upwards of an hour's duration. It was kindly 
 meant and was certainly pleasant. 
 
 My difficulty was to fit in the invitations 
 showered on me by the kindness of friends. One 
 I particularly regretted having to decline is con- 
 veyed in the following note : — 
 
 "Belmont Castle, Meigle, Scotland, 
 "November 16. 
 
 "My dear Lucy, — Only to-day have I seen 
 in the local papers that you are going to lecture in 
 Dundee on Friday. You will therefore be within 
 three-quarters of an hour of us ; and what you are 
 to do is to come here on Saturday morning and 
 stay. Why should you not stay over the Harcourt 
 festival next week ? He is coming here on Monday 
 night, and reposes here until the anvil is ready on 
 which his hammer will fall on Thursday, to the 
 confusion of all timid people and the delight of all 
 who love a row. You are not wanted anywhere 
 else at this time of year. Judging by the contents 
 of the papers, they might as well be written any- 
 where as in London. Why not do your ' Pall Mall ' 
 gossip from here ? You may become even a ' mere 
 outsider,' and copying his fashion predict on Monday 
 what you will announce on Friday as having 
 happened on Thursday. 
 
 " If you are wise and bring Mrs. Lucy with 
 you, underline all I have said, for everything 
 would be doubled, from our pleasure down- 
 wards. And she might come here on Friday, in 
 
260 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 anticipation of you ; for I am sure she can forego 
 the pleasure of listening to your thunder on Friday. 
 Do come. 
 
 " Yours always, 
 
 " H. Campbell-Bannerman." 
 
 Lord Kosebery, ever hospitable, telegraphed 
 asking me to stay at Dalmeny during the visit to 
 Edinburgh. I was already pledged to be the guest 
 of Lord Robertson, then Lord Justice General of 
 Scotland, who, breaking through a habit long 
 enforced by official duties, consented to appear on 
 a public platform in Edinburgh, presiding at the 
 lecture delivered under the auspices of the Philo- 
 sophical Institution. Later, lecturing at Epsom, 
 Lord Rosebery sacrificed his dinner hour at the 
 Durdans in order to take the chair, when he 
 delivered a sparkling speech on the Houses of 
 Parliament. Under such aegis the faults of the 
 lecture and the demerits of its delivery were over- 
 looked. The tour proved an unexpected success. 
 
 Lord Eobertson, who has permanently crossed 
 the Tweed to take his place in the House of Lords, 
 where he ranks as Lord of Appeal, has the dis- 
 tinction of first bewildering, then delighting that 
 august assembly. He too infrequently takes part 
 in debate. When he rises he commands an 
 audience which pays him the compliment of 
 steadily increasing numbers. 
 
 Speaking in the first portion of last Session 
 on a Government Bill involving (I think) the 
 
A LECTUEING TOUK 251 
 
 compulsory purchase of Scottish land, he asked the 
 House to suppose that an analogous measure had 
 been brought in affecting a London suburb. 
 
 " There might," he continued, " be expected to 
 come forward a householder who said, *I am, 
 although perhaps it is not I who should say it, a 
 model of all civic virtues. And yet my villa is 
 going to be taken from me.' In amplification of 
 his claim to be a person of the highest virtues he 
 might go on to say, ' I am a member of the 
 National Liberal Club, a teetotaler, and a passive 
 resister. I have recently married my deceased 
 wife's sister, and none of my children have been 
 vaccinated.' " 
 
 Noble lords dozing on back benches, and others 
 entering at the moment when Lord Eobertson with 
 artfully raised voice and emphatic manner declaimed 
 these accumulative peculiarities of a pragmatical 
 Eadical, for a moment thought that here was 
 public confession of infirmity openly made, a sort 
 of breaking of " The Silence of Dean Maitland." 
 The apprehension was only momentary, and was 
 followed by an explosion of mirth whose hilarity 
 was unfamiliar in the staid circle.* 
 
 * Since this was written Lord Eobertson's sudden death 
 at Cap Martin, from heart disease, has shocked and pained his 
 multitudinous friends. 
 
XXVI 
 
 MR. CHAMBERLAIN 
 
 The popular idea of Mr, Chamberlain, founded 
 exclusively on observation of his public career, is 
 that he is a man of hard nature, implacable of 
 purpose, remorseless in rolling over any who get 
 in his way. Within limits this appreciation is 
 defensible. In public life, striving for what he 
 believes to be the welfare of the empire, he is 
 undoubtedly disposed to march straight forward 
 regardless of personalities, even though they be 
 old familiar friends. 
 
 There is another side of his character, out of 
 range of the public eye. In the private relations 
 of life, the inflexible political fighter is the most 
 lovable, most loved of men. A brilliant conversa- 
 tionalist, endowed with a keen sense of humour, he 
 is the life and soul of the company in which he 
 chances to find himself. The loyalty he creates 
 in the miads of those nearest to him is happily 
 indicated in the subjoined letter from his son 
 Austen, addressed to me under date December 2, 
 1901— 
 
 " I admit I have sometimes thought on reading 
 your lines hot (or I should say ' wet ') from the 
 
 252 
 
ME. CHAMBERLAIN 253 
 
 press that you lent some countenance to the stories 
 that my father was actuated by personal ambitions 
 or personal antipathies of a mean and petty nature 
 which I hnow have never entered his head. I am 
 glad to think that I may have been wrong, and 
 that reading again what you had written I might 
 find after the lapse of a little time that I was 
 hypersensitive or that I altogether misunderstood 
 you. 
 
 " You must remember that you write in many 
 places — sometimes as a frank advocate of one side 
 in a party, but sometimes also as an impartial 
 observer in non-party journals. In the former 
 character we expect you to fight for your side. In 
 the latter we ask of you that very hard thing — the 
 impartiality of a historian in telling of events and 
 scenes all the excitement of which you have shared 
 almost at the moment at which you are writing. 
 It is, therefore, a high standard by which I have 
 criticised. 
 
 " My father may be right or wrong, but I think 
 those who have known him as you have done will 
 never deny his intense seriousness, or his utter 
 disregard of his own personal convenience or 
 advantage when thinking of what he owes to his 
 colleagues or his country. 
 
 " If he had been less loyal to colleagues with 
 whose views and policy he was not always in 
 sympathy in 1880-5, his critics of to-day would 
 find fewer quotations from his old speeches to hurl 
 at him." 
 
254 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 The suggestion underlying this letter — that in 
 publicly discussing Mr. Chamberlain's action I 
 have been animated by feelings of personal 
 animosity — arises solely from the jealousy of 
 extreme filial affection. Our acquaintance goes 
 back over thirty-four years, and I have never 
 varied from the attitude of personal esteem for 
 the man, admiration for unrivalled intellectual 
 power. It is true my references to him in his 
 public capacity have been free from taint of 
 obsequiousness. But Mr. Chamberlain himself is 
 a hard hitter, and knows that when a man plays 
 at bowls he must expect rubbers. 
 
 A redoubtable foe, he is a friend whose loyalty 
 knows no bounds. I find in my diary an entry, 
 dated April 29, 1900, which supplies two instances, 
 widely varying in scope, of this trait in his 
 character. I transcribe it as it was written — 
 
 " Met Chamberlain last night at Kobson Koose's. 
 Sat next to him at dinner. He talked to me the 
 whole of the time with marvellous frankness. Told 
 me he had that morning been reading a magazine 
 article of mine, simultaneously published in New 
 York and London, discussing his chances of succes- 
 sion to the Premiership. He is very impatient of 
 frank criticism. Evidently did not like the article, 
 but the, only, complaint he made was of what 
 he called 'a sneer' at Jesse CoUings and Powell 
 Williams as Members of the Ministry. He de-i 
 fended them loyally, insisting that P. "W. had done 
 
ME. CHAMBEELAIN 255 
 
 great service at the "War Office, saving tlie country 
 thousands of pounds, 'for which,' he bitterly 
 added, ' they ' (meaning the War Office people) 
 ' are now shunting him,' " 
 
 Of the theme of the article he spoke freely. 
 
 " * If,' he said, ' you want to know the truth 
 about the matter I will tell you. Never at any 
 time in any circumstances do I intend to be Prime 
 Minister of the Unionist party. I am ready to 
 serve under Arthur Balfour or any one else who 
 may be preferred to the post. I confess it was 
 different when I was on the other side. Fifteen 
 years ago I was certainly resolved to be Prime 
 Minister in the Liberal succession. If I had been, 
 you would have seen established that condition of 
 Liberal Imperialism of which Rosebery and others 
 futilely talk to-day,' " 
 
 He warmly defended himself against the accusa- 
 tion of being a recent convert to Imperialism, 
 
 " ' Why,' he said, ' when I was in the Cabinet 
 of 1880, 1 was then, more especially in respect to 
 Egypt, accused by my colleagues of being a Jingo, 
 In respect of England's Imperial position I have 
 never been anything but what I am to- day,'" 
 
 Some time later he told me a curious story 
 vindicating his consistency in the matter of Im- 
 perialism, In 1857, John Bright, unseated at 
 Manchester, offered himself for election at Birming^ 
 ham, Mr,, Chamberlain, then in his twenty-first 
 
256 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 year, was already taking an active part in politics. 
 The great Free Trader, the ultra-Eadical, was in 
 every respect save one his ideal of a party leader. 
 But he had voted against Lord Palmerston on the 
 question of the Chinese War. Mr. Chamberlain 
 was enthusiastically in favour of the attitude 
 assumed by Palmerston at that crisis, and did his 
 best to keep Bright out of Birmingham, 
 
 In due course his fealty to Mr. Arthur Balfour 
 was triumphantly demonstrated. When on the 
 death of the Marquis of Salisbury a meeting of the 
 Unionist party was summoned for the election of a 
 successor, Mr. Chamberlain happened to be confined 
 to his room by illness. It was unworthily said by 
 partisan commentators that advantage was taken 
 of his being Jwrs de combat to rush the matter 
 through. The conversation quoted, taking place 
 two years earlier, testified to the sincerity of the 
 letter written by Mr. Chamberlain from his sick- 
 room, in which he heartily applauded the nomina- 
 tion of Mr. Balfour. 
 
 On the day after the Roose dinner I wrote to 
 him with reference to his remarks about a disposi- 
 tion on my part to chafi" (I am sure not unkindly) 
 his two old Birmingham friends. He replied — 
 
 "40, PEitfCB's Gaedens, S."W., 
 
 " April 30, 1200. 
 
 " My deak Lucy, — Many thanks for your 
 note, which is — and this is the highest praise I can 
 give to it — what I expected from your love of 
 justice and fair play. 
 
ME. CHAMBEELAIN 257 
 
 " I am very glad that I had the opportunity of 
 a talk with you, and I am sure that you will not 
 regret in the future avoiding a topic which to my 
 knowledge — although no doubt unintentionally as 
 far as you are concerned — has given pain to very 
 worthy men. 
 
 " I have written for a copy of the new 
 University scheme, which I shall be glad to send 
 you and which I think will interest you. 
 " Believe me, 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " J. Chamberlain." 
 
 Before Mr. Chamberlain married the lady whose 
 sunny influence has lightened the deep shadow 
 that swooped down upon him at a time when still 
 in the prime of physical and intellectual power, Mr. 
 Jesse CoUings was a constant companion on his 
 Continental trips. A pretty story had vogue about 
 a passage from Gibraltar to Tangier. There being 
 no regular steamer available, the two Easter-tide 
 tourists engaged a passage in a sloop about to 
 cross over. Here, again, difficulty presented itself. 
 There was only one sleeping cabin available, and 
 that was the captain's. For a consideration he 
 was ready to lease his holdiag ; but the bunk 
 would hold only one sleeper. In this dilemma he 
 approached Mr. Chamberlain with the remark — 
 
 " It's all right, young man. I'll make your 
 father up comfortable in my bunk, and you shall 
 lie on the floor." 
 
258 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 Towards the close of the Session of 1901, Lord 
 Salisbury's Government brought in a BiU authoris- 
 ing alteration of the Koyal title. It was proposed 
 to hail his Majesty " Edward the Seventh, by the 
 Grace of God of Great Britain and Ireland and of 
 all the British Dominions beyond the Seas, King, 
 Defender of the Faith, Emperor of India." General 
 objection was taken to the clumsiness of this 
 designation. In debate in the House of Lords, the 
 Earl of Kosebery proposed to substitute the phrase 
 "King of Britains beyond the Sea." 
 
 In the "Diary of Toby, M.P.," published in 
 Punch, citation was made of a passage from the 
 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, which relates how on the 
 eve of the battle that delivered Wessex from 
 the dominion of the Dane, St. Cuthbert visited 
 King Alfred in his sleep and hailed him "King 
 of all Britain." 
 
 " What better, more precise, equally compre- 
 hensive title," Toby, M.P. asked, " could be adopted 
 by the twentieth-century King descended in 
 unbroken line from Alfred ? The title would run, 
 ' Edward the Seventh, by the Grace of God King 
 of All Britain and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, 
 Emperor of India.' " 
 
 His Majesty, at the time on a visit to Homburg, 
 graciously took note of the suggestion. To Mr. 
 Chamberlain, in charge of the Bill in the Commons, 
 I suggested that at least the redundant "of all" 
 before "the British Dominions" might be deleted. 
 He replied- — 
 
ME. CHAMBEELAIN 259 
 
 " 40, Peinces's Garden, S."W., 
 "Aug. 6, 1901. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Lucy, — If business in the House 
 of Commons were conducted on the old lines 
 I should like to take advantage of some of the 
 suggestions made with regard to the King's title, 
 and thereby get rid of the unnecessary words ' of 
 air objected to by you. But just now, with the 
 Irish inclined to make a Donnybrook Fair of 
 everything, it seems unwise to agree to any 
 alteration. Lord Eosebery's certainly would not 
 please such colonies as Canada and Mauritius, nor 
 would the Dutch like it in South Africa. 
 " Believe me, 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 "J. Chamberlain." 
 
 Mr, Chamberlain's instinct for controlling 
 electoral campaigns, his sure divination of the 
 result of a pending conflict, were demonstrated 
 during his connection with the Birmingham caucus 
 and after. It was no secret that he was in favour 
 of appealing to the country immediately upon the 
 conclusion of the South African War. Talking 
 with me on the subject at the end of the Session 
 of 1902, he, having thoroughly gone into the 
 matter, expressed the confident opinion that as a 
 result of a General Election taken at that time, 
 the Unionist party would be reinstated with a 
 majority at least equal to that secured in the 
 autiimn of 1900. 
 
260 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Mr. Balfour lingered on for three years, when 
 the Liberals came into power with one of the 
 biggest majorities recorded in history. 
 
 Having completed the " Diary of the Unionist 
 Parliament " i€ occurred to me that in a series of 
 dedications of successive volumes inscribed in turn 
 to Lord Kosebery, Mr. Gladstone, and Mr. Balfour, 
 it was appropriate that Mr. Chamberlain's name 
 should be associated with this particular record. 
 In reply to a request for permission, he wrote— 
 
 " HiGHBUET, Mode Geeen, 
 
 "BiEMiNGHAM, Dec. 19, 1900. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Lucy, — I have made a rule to 
 decline all dedications ; but every rule must have 
 an exception, and I think our long acquaintance 
 justifies one in your case. Therefore if you desire 
 it I shall accept the compliment with pleasure. 
 
 " My wife and I thank you for your good 
 wishes, which we heartily reciprocate. 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 "J. Chamberlain." 
 
 The volume accordingly bears the legend ; 
 "To the Right Hon. Joseph Chamberlain, M.P., 
 who made possible the Unionist Parliament 1895- 
 1900, this record of some phases of its history is 
 inscribed." 
 
 It was at the time little known, and is now 
 perhaps forgotten, that twelve years before Mr. 
 Chamberlain, accompanied by the hearty good 
 
ME. OHAMBBELAIN 261 
 
 wishes of the nation, set forth in the cruiser Good 
 Hope on the mission of tranquillising South Africa 
 at the close of the Boer War, he very nearly 
 started on the same voyage under quite different 
 auspices. In the spring of 1889 a vacancy 
 occurred in the Governorship of the Cape. Mr. 
 Chamberlain, at that time acting in concert with 
 Lord Hartington and Sir Henry James, whilst an 
 uncompromising supporter of the Government, 
 held no office. It occurred to Lord Salisbury that, 
 possibly for more reasons than appeared on the 
 face of the suggestion, he would be the very man 
 for the colony. It would not be accurate to say 
 that the Governorship was actually offered and 
 declined. Certainly Mr. Chamberlain was made 
 aware that the opportunity of undertaking the 
 government of Cape Colony was at his disposal. 
 
 Having always taken keen interest in the 
 development of South Africa, he was, I believe, 
 not indisposed to accept the position. But the 
 prospect of temporary banishment from London 
 at a critical stage of political history was not 
 alluring, and the project was nipped in the bud. 
 
 It is interesting to speculate on what might 
 have happened had he taken up his residence for 
 five years at Capetown within measurable distance 
 of Paul Kruger. It is not improbable that neces- 
 sity for the war would never have arisen, or that 
 if the hand of the British Government had been 
 forced, they would not have entered on the con- 
 flict in the blindfolded, unprepared condition that 
 
262 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 courted, and for the opening year of the campaign 
 realised, disaster. 
 
 The reference to Mr. Gladstone, taken in con- 
 junction with the date, lends peculiar interest to 
 the subjoined letter. 
 
 " 40, Peincb's Gaedbns, 8.W., 
 
 « March 16, 1887. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Lucy, — Many thanks for your 
 letter and its enclosures. I could send you scores 
 written from the opposite standpoint. I received 
 five by the post this morning, all enthusiastic 
 about my speech and promising support to the 
 three-cornered plan. Believe me this plan will 
 be deadly if we are forced to try it. The last 
 time it was employed was just before the collapse 
 of the Gladstone Administration in connection 
 with its education policy. The National Education 
 League ran five candidates in five successive bye- 
 elections. I hope, however, that we may yet avoid 
 extremities. 
 
 " I dined last night with Mr. Gladstone at Sir 
 Charles Forster's, and found him most pleasant. 
 I cannot believe that he is averse to an honourable 
 settlement. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "J. Chamberlain." 
 
 The almost eager grasping at a settlement, the 
 pleased reference to Mr. Gladstone's bearing to- 
 wards him, go to confirm a conviction I have 
 from the first held as to the genesis of the step 
 
ME. CHAMBEELAIN 263 
 
 which transfigured Mr. Chamberlain's political 
 character. I believe that, keen as was his look 
 ahead, when he in company with Mr. George 
 Trevelyan quitted Mr. Gladstone's Cabinet in 1886, 
 he never dreamt whither the step would lead him. 
 He drifted into a position which in course of 
 time led him to serve in a Cabinet that had Lord 
 Salisbury for its head, Mr. Arthur Balfour for 
 its right hand. 
 
 In Lord Morley's " Life of Gladstone " there is 
 a reference to the Cabinet meeting held on March 
 26, 1886, the last at which Mr. Chamberlain sat 
 in company with his old chief. Between its lines 
 keen light shines on the relationship between the 
 two dominant members. 
 
 "Some supposed then," Lord Morley writes, 
 "and Mr. Chamberlain has said since, that when 
 he entered the Cabinet room on this memorable 
 occasion he intended to be conciliatory. Witnesses 
 of the scene thought that the Prime Minister made 
 little attempt in that direction." 
 
 If it were possible to conceive Mr. Disraeli in 
 charge of the Home Rule Bill of 1886 — and no- 
 thing was impossible to the Tory leader who 
 grafted household suffrage on a Reform Bill — it 
 would be certain that Mr. Chamberlain would 
 never have left his old party. For the manage- 
 ment of delicate affairs a man of supreme tact is 
 better than a transcendent genius who, with his head 
 in the lofty companionship of the clouds, is apt to 
 stumble over a not insuperable obstacle at his feet. 
 
XXVII 
 
 HENRY IRVING 
 
 On the eve of Henry living's departure on his 
 last visit to the United States I met him at a 
 little farewell dinner given at the Reform Club. 
 Hearing my wife and I would be in the United 
 States whilst he was there, he engaged us to pay 
 a visit to his theatre and sup with him after. I 
 thought no more about the engagement ; Irving's 
 memory was faithful. Arriving in New York on 
 a Saturday morning, we went off to spend a quiet 
 time at the country house of a friend. On the 
 Tuesday the following telegram arrived from 
 Henry Irving, at the time playing in New York : — 
 
 " Tracked down at last. Love to both. Hope 
 you are coming to play to-night. Have reserved 
 box for you and friends. Supper at Delmonico's. 
 "H. I., Broadway Theatre." 
 
 Not able to accept this invitation we named 
 for visiting the theatre a night that chanced to 
 be one on which he was engaged for supper. 
 His hospitable intent was not to be baffled by 
 circumstance. He commissioned his friend and 
 
 264 
 
HENEY IRVING 265 
 
 lieutenant, Bram Stoker, to act as host, and 
 after tlie theatre closed we had a merry supper at 
 Delmonico's. Irving was playing Dante, one of 
 the unfortunate accidents that seemed to accumu- 
 late towards the close of a long run of well-earned 
 good fortune. 
 
 With a pretty wide range of acquaintance, I 
 count Henry Irving among half a dozen of the 
 most delightful men I have known. With a 
 charming presence, a courtly manner, he was 
 princely in his generosity. The only value money 
 had for him was that it enabled him to give 
 pleasure and benefit to others. A member of the 
 Lyceum stafi" told me that, having an intro- 
 duction to Irving, he approached him with modest 
 expectation in the way of salary. For the sake of 
 securing so advantageous an opening he would 
 gladly have commenced on nothing a week. Irving, 
 after some chat, offered him an engagement with 
 a salary three times as much as the one he was 
 earning. 
 
 At one of the little suppers he delighted to 
 give in his room in the old Beefsteak Club, at 
 the back of the Lyceum stage, I one night noticed 
 a beautiful chair set at the table. 
 
 " Do you really admire it ? " he asked. 
 
 " Certainly. It is a genuine Chippendale." 
 
 " Take it with you," he quickly replied ; and 
 when I left by the stage-door I had the greatest 
 difficulty in preventing him sending the chair down 
 to be placed on the top of my hansom. 
 
266 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 He was effusively grateful for any little gift or 
 favour. For New Year's Day, 1899, I sent him a 
 copy of Sidney Lee's " Life of Shakespeare," just 
 published. He replied from Bournemouth on 
 January 2, 1899 — 
 
 " My deak Lucy, — My kindest greeting to you 
 and Mrs. Lucy, and all gladness and happiness to 
 you in the coming on of time. 
 
 " It was more than kind of you to send me that 
 book of Sidney Lee's, the only one that has done 
 any justice to Shakespeare, the player as well as 
 playwright. 
 
 " Shakespeare, wise man, was never manager of 
 a theatre. He was an actor who took a share. 
 When Shakespeare's Company is spoken of, it 
 should ■ mean the company to which the poet 
 belonged. 
 
 " Thank you all for your kind wishes. I only 
 need a little rest and a little sunshine to be quite 
 well again. I find this doing nothing very hard 
 work. You know, nobody better — isn't it the 
 
 hardest work of all ? 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "Henry Irving." 
 
 There is something pathetic in the cry for " a 
 little rest and a little sunshine." 
 
 The last time we saw him on the stage he played 
 Louis XI. to a crowded and enthusiastic audience. 
 It was his farewell to the London stage, and we were 
 present in response to the following letter :— 
 
HENRY IRVING 267 
 
 " July 8, 1205. 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Ltjcy, — Thank you for your very 
 kind invitation, which it would be a delight to 
 accept, were it possible. But I shall be ' tied to 
 the stake' till the 18th and cannot fly. 
 
 "Were you in London I should ask you to 
 grace our last night — ^the 18th — with your presence. 
 " I am, sincerely yours, 
 
 "Henry Irving." 
 
 When the curtain fell on the final scene the 
 cheering lasted several minutes. Again and again 
 the curtain rose, and Irving bowed his thanks. 
 Moved by unconscious premonition that some of 
 them would see his face no more, the throng before 
 the curtain would not let him go. 
 
 The last of many times he lent to our table at 
 Ashley Gardens the graciousness of his presence 
 was at a little luncheon given by way of farewell 
 to Mr. Choate, who, retiring from the post of 
 American Minister, was returning home. Irving 
 was playing somewhere in the Midlands. But a 
 journey to town and back in time for the play did 
 not baulk his desire to be present. He was evidently 
 in ill-health and, when he arrived, in low spirits. 
 Finding himself in cheerful company he speedUy 
 brightened up, and we saw again the smile of rare 
 beauty that illuminated his face as he talked or 
 listened. 
 
 Ellen Terry dined with us just before she paid 
 her last visit to the United States which proved 
 
268 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 the trutli of tlie saying "Journeys end in lovers 
 meeting." Among the company was Mr, Arthur 
 Balfour. He came on from the House of Commons, 
 where he was engaged in debate on an important 
 Ministerial measure. Like Mr. Gladstone, he 
 possesses the gift of swiftly throwing off in con- 
 genial company all sense of care and official 
 responsibility. 
 
 Ellen Terry sat strangely silent through the 
 brilliant conversation. I fancied, being out of her 
 ordinary line, it might bore her. Mr. Balfour leaving 
 early to resume his duties at the House of Com- 
 mons, she broke sUence with a remark that showed 
 I was mistaken. Bringing her closed hand with a 
 thump on the table, she exclaimed, with a glance 
 towards the door through which he had passed, " I 
 think that man's a duck." 
 
 She told me later, with perhaps kindly exagge- 
 ration, that she had never enjoyed a dinner-party 
 more. 
 
 When Irving consented to sit for his portrait 
 for my little collection, he stipulated that his dog 
 should be with him. He is accordingly painted 
 with Fussie on his knee. Fussie was a present to 
 EUen Terry from the jockey, Fred Archer. Irving 
 appropriated him, and the two became inseparable. 
 The dog was a familiar figure at the supper parties 
 on the stage at the Lyceum that wound up first 
 nights of memorable plays. Taking it for granted 
 that as they were there when he came in from the 
 dressing-room with his master, they were desirable 
 
HENRY IRVING 269 
 
 people, Fussie was sufficiently amiable as he trotted 
 about among the crowd. But he could put on other 
 manners. When Irving was lying ill in Grafton 
 Street, I called to see him. Fussie would not allow 
 me to approach the bed. His master was sick, 
 apparently helpless. I might be intent on taking 
 advantage of his weakness to do him an injury. 
 Anyhow, Fussie, thinking it well to be on the safe 
 side, snarled ominously when I advanced. 
 
 On one occasion when Irving and his company 
 were going on a tour in the United States, Fussie 
 was, as a matter of course, included in the troupe. 
 He got out of the train at the town station at 
 Southampton, and when the company arrived at 
 the wharf he was nowhere to be seen. As the boat 
 was about to start, nothing could be done in the 
 way of looking him up. So Irving set out on his 
 voyage disconsolate. Six weeks later, Fussie, foot- 
 sore, travel-stained, but capable of wagging his 
 tail, trotted in at the stage-door of the Lyceum 
 Theatre in Wellington Street, Strand. How he 
 found his way is a mystery he was never able to 
 explain. Of course the road was absolutely un- 
 familiar to him. 
 
 Fussie came to an end at Manchester under 
 tragic circumstances. A workman taking off his 
 coat threw it down, partly hiding an open trap. 
 He had brought some bread and meat for his 
 supper. Fussie, scenting this, began foraging, fell 
 through the trap-door, and was killed instantly. 
 The news was kept from Irving till the play was 
 
270 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 over. He said little, but took the body home to 
 his hotel in his cab. Ellen Terry and his son 
 Lawrence, arriving later, found him eating his 
 supper with Fussie curled up in his familiar rug 
 on the sofa. Isving was talking to the dog as if 
 he were stUl alive. He carried him back to London 
 in the train next day and buried him in the dogs' 
 cemetery in Hyde Park. 
 
 Irving used to tell with dramatic effect a story 
 about Wills, sometime editor of Once a Week. 
 When Wills was a boy ten years old, he was taken 
 to see Edmund Kean play "Macbeth," In the murder 
 scene he was so affected by the realistic power of 
 the actor that, seized with a severe attack of nausea, 
 he hurried from the box. 
 
 Ten years later, he was lunching at a chop-house 
 in Fleet Street when a man entered, sat down at 
 a table near him and ordered a meal. He was a 
 perfect stranger to Wills, who after a few minutes' 
 propinquity was again seized with a fit of nausea, 
 from which he had not suffered since as a boy he 
 was at the theatre on the occasion mentioned. 
 He was obliged to leave the room. When some 
 minutes later he paid his bUl, the waiter said to 
 him — 
 
 "Did you see that gentleman at the table near 
 you ? That's Edmund Kean." 
 
XXVIII 
 
 CECIL RHODES BEFORE THE RAID 
 
 I CAME in close contact with Cecil Ehodes in 1894. 
 It was the year before the Jameson Eaid "upset 
 his apple-cart," and had much to do with the out- 
 break of racial feeling between Boers and British 
 that resulted in a terrible war. At the time of our 
 stay at Cape Town, the relations between Com Paul, 
 President of the Transvaal Republic, and the British 
 Governor (Sir Henry Loch), though not openly 
 ruptured, were decidedly strained. 
 
 On arrival at Cape Town early on a Sunday 
 morning marked by the almanac as one of the last 
 days in December, but which was sultrier than our 
 hottest summer, we were met by an aide-de-camp 
 from Government House inviting us to lunch with 
 Sir Henry and Lady Loch at their cottage residence 
 some eight or ten miles out of Cape Town. At 
 table we happened to sit on either side of Cecil 
 Ehodes, a happy accident as it turned out. I had 
 met him in London during his flying visit of the 
 previous year. As we sat together and talked, the 
 acquaintance warmed to a measure of friendship 
 that induced him to ask us to make Groote Schuur 
 our home during our stay at the Cape, This was 
 
 271 
 
272 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 doubly welcome since, in addition to the pleasure 
 of his daily company, it meant deliverance from the 
 miseries of our abode in the City. 
 
 Next morning we shifted our quarters to Cecil 
 Rhodes's quaint old house, buUt on a slope of Table 
 Mountain. On one flank of it bloomed an acre of 
 blue hydrangea, his favourite flower. He gave us 
 a spacious bedroom, decorated with, among other 
 pieces of furniture, an old Dutch wardrobe, whose 
 silver hinges gained fresh brilliancy from the 
 century-old dark wood they clasped. Rhodes had, 
 somehow, gained the reputation of being a woman- 
 hater. Certainly, with the possible exception of 
 his sister, Mrs. Lucy was the first lady who had 
 been a guest at Groote Schuur. He engaged the 
 gardener's wife to act as maid, withdrawing him- 
 self to sleep in a bachelor's quarter built at the end 
 of the garden. Hearing that Horace Plunkett 
 (now Sir Horace, first Vice-President of the Irish 
 Board of Agriculture) had been our table companion 
 on the voyage out, he sent him a pressing invitation 
 to put up at Groote Schuur, a proposal cheerfully 
 accepted by a man who had something of our 
 experience in Cape Town. 
 
 Rhodes was at the time partly rebuilding his 
 house, which, as its name implies, was originally 
 a granary. Nearly every week a bale of carpets 
 or a case of furniture arrived from London. These 
 were commonplace by comparison with a little 
 bowl in the study which contained a couple of 
 handfuls of small pieces of gold, dug up on the 
 
CECIL RHODES BEEOEE THE RAID 273 
 
 site of an ancient temple far away up country. 
 It was, Ehodes believed, part of the gold of OpMr, 
 current in the days of Solomon. A couple of 
 years later, when the alterations were completed 
 and the new furniture installed, a fire broke out 
 at Groote Schuur, partly destroying the place. It 
 was rebuilt, and, by the owner's will, bequeathed 
 as a residence for the Cape Premier, the spacious 
 grounds being turned into a public park, enclosing 
 a zoological garden. As for the simple-mannered, 
 big-hearted, clear-headed history-maker who once 
 lived there, he sleeps in the solitude of the Matoppos 
 Mountains. 
 
 With respect to this choice of burial-place, 
 Mr. George Wyndham told me an interesting 
 story. He also in later time was a guest at Groote 
 Schuur. Accompanying his host on an expedition 
 up country, they halted for a while on the crest 
 of the mighty Matoppos which dominates a 
 hundred miles of veldt. One morning, Ehodes, 
 who had shown himself at breakfast in a mood of 
 solemn thought, went out and lay full length near 
 the edge of the hill, gazing on the scene below. 
 He remained there half an hour, and came back 
 in brighter spirits. From a chance remark he 
 dropped, Mr. Wyndham believes that it was in 
 this reverie he conceived the idea of having his 
 grave dug amid the silence and solitude of the 
 mountain top. 
 
 We had a cheerful little dinner-party every 
 night whilst our host remained at Cape Town. 
 
 X 
 
274 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 Amongst the guests were Dr. Jameson, Mr. Selous, 
 and another mighty hunter, just down from the 
 North. On the first night at dinner, I observed 
 his extreme embarrassment and discomfort. I 
 attributed it, to weariness after a long journey. 
 In the confidence of the verandah and under the 
 cheering influence of a cigar, he confided to me 
 that it was the stifi" shirt-collar imposed upon 
 him by civilisation as part of his dinner-dress 
 that wrought him anguish. He had not worn 
 such a thing for months. 
 
 We generally sat on the verandah after dinner 
 till midnight struck. Ehodes, in ordinary company 
 a stubbornly reticent man, the despair of London 
 hosts and hostesses, expanded under the mellowing 
 influence of the cool air, the starlit, almost blue 
 sky of a South African night. It was the height 
 of the prosperity of South Africa, prices of mines 
 and of land booming in all directions. When I 
 came home, friends, hearing I had been the guest 
 of Cecil Ehodes for three weeks, surmised that 
 I must have been " put in for some good things." 
 With the exception of the gold of Ophir, not 
 to-day a marketable commodity, Ehodes in his 
 conversations with me never alluded to gold-mines 
 or diamond industries. What he talked about 
 on the verandah were books new and old, more 
 especially anything that had reference to the 
 history of Eome before the last of the Imperial 
 Caesars was dead and turned to clay. He had 
 in his pay in Eome an expert daily employed 
 
CECIL RHODES BBEOEE THE EAID 275 
 
 in copying out stored manuscript records of the 
 history of Imperial Eome. 
 
 Nor did we talk about politics, home or South 
 African. Only once, I remember, when he was 
 poring over a big map of Africa, he put his finger 
 on Cairo, and drawing it slowly down the length 
 of the parchment till it rested on Cape Town, 
 said, "I want to see the map painted red from 
 there to there." 
 
 With the creation of Rhodesia, a considerable 
 measure of his heart's desire was fulfilled before 
 he was carried up to rest on the mountain top. 
 
 Ehodes was a faithful friend to men of all 
 degree to whom he became attached. His butler, 
 an excellent servant, came from the English village 
 in which was Ehodes' father's parish church. He 
 was inclined to be consumptive, and Ehodes took 
 him out to South Africa in the belief that the 
 climate, if it did not effect a complete cure, would 
 check the disease. One morning, entering my 
 host's study, I found him in a state of unusual 
 depression, I thought something had gone wrong 
 with De Beers, or with political affairs at Cape 
 Town. There were tears in his eyes when he told 
 me how, after a long spell of good health, the 
 butler had that morning been suddenly attacked 
 with haemorrhage. 
 
 There was only one thing to be done. He 
 must be sent off up country to take a month's 
 rest in the exhilarating air of the veldt. As, 
 in addition to acting as valet, he was in charge 
 
276 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 of the whole domestic arrangements of the house, 
 this meant serious personal discomfort to the 
 master. Khodes did not give that part of the 
 business a thought, but packed the man off within 
 a few hours. • 
 
 After leaving the Cape, I saw Ehodes only 
 twice. Once was in the following year, when he 
 visited London. We invited him to luncheon. 
 He said he would come on two conditions — that 
 he might bring Dr. Jameson and that there should 
 be no other guests. So we sat four at table, and 
 Ehodes was as talkative as was his wont on the 
 verandah at Groote Schuur. 
 
 The last time I saw him he was sitting in the 
 witnesses' chair in the room of the South African 
 Commission. Before him were grouped a dozen 
 of the ablest men in England, some eager to 
 probe the mystery that brooded over the Jameson 
 Raid, Others, and these the more embarrassing, 
 were concerned for the preservation of diplomatic 
 reticence. On a table set at the witness's right 
 elbow was a plate of sandwiches and a tankard of 
 London stout. Cecil Rhodes munched his sand- 
 wiches, from time to time thoughtfully raised the 
 tankard to his lips, and did not in any possibly 
 inconvenient particular add to the information of 
 the Commissioners. 
 
XXIX 
 
 LOED RUSSELL OP KILLOWEN 
 
 JouENEYiNG across the United States in the early 
 'eighties, on the way to Japan, at a roadway 
 station halfway between Denver and Colorado 
 Springs, the train was boarded by a comfortably 
 stout gentleman in a serge suit, with a knitted 
 woollen vest and a low-crowned felt hat. He 
 might have passed without notice but for the 
 circumstance that he carried a red brief-bag, un- 
 mistakably the property of an English Q.C. This 
 item in the midst of rolling prairies concentrated 
 attention. Looking more closely, I recognised in 
 the sun-browned stranger Charles Kussell, who, 
 clutching his red bag, made his way along the 
 crowded car as if he were pushing through a 
 blocked passage in the Law Courts. 
 
 I had casual acquaintance with him in the 
 Lobby of the House of Commons. This chance 
 meeting was the beginning of an intimate friend- 
 ship that grew in warmth to the end. We stayed 
 at Colorado Springs, and in the afternoon had a 
 pleasant drive to Manitou and the Garden of the 
 Gods. Eussell, then plain Mr., leader of his 
 circuit, was one of the quickest-tempered, warmest- 
 
 277 
 
278 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 hearted of Irishmen. He learned a lesson at 
 Manitou, where stood a little hotel with a spacious 
 verandah looked down upon by the majesty of 
 Pike's Peak. There were many guests, few waiters, 
 and, as EusseU meant to catch the evening train 
 going east, our time was limited. After im- 
 patiently suffering delay extending over a quarter 
 of an hour, Eussell began rapping the table with 
 a knife and clinking the glasses. 
 
 " Come, come," he said sharply to the waiter 
 when that dignitary sauntered up, "hurry along 
 with luncheon." 
 
 "Wal, sir," said the waiter, eyeing him un- 
 concernedly, " if the place don't suit you, you 
 can go on to the next." 
 
 As the nearest was Colorado Springs, whence 
 we had driven, Kussell, taking in the situation at 
 a glance, subsided. "When presently the waiter 
 lounged up with the meal, he began to chat with 
 him, and by his affability and humour won him 
 over in a few minutes. 
 
 Many years later, when Eussell was Attorney- 
 General, I witnessed another sudden and complete 
 checking of a hasty temper. We were walking 
 in the neighbourhood of Tadworth Court, his 
 house by Epsom Downs, A scorcher passing on a 
 bicycle nearly ran over us. 
 
 " Be careful," said Eussell, angrily. 
 
 The man slowed up and, turning round, poured 
 forth a torrent of horrible abuse. Eussell made 
 no reply. He stood quietly watching the man, as 
 
LOED EUSSBLL OF KILLOWBN 279 
 
 if to impress his face and figure on his memory. 
 It occurred to me at the moment that if, as was 
 by no means improbable, the fellow, being in the 
 dock or the witness-box, some day came into the 
 hands of the Attorney-General, professional duty 
 would receive an impetus. 
 
 Russell was hugely delighted with a remark 
 by his newly made friend the Manitou waiter. 
 
 " This seems a very healthy town," he said, 
 determined to be pleasant. 
 
 " I guess it's pretty wal," replied the waiter 
 with profound gravity. " When we built a 
 schoolhouse nothing would do for some of the 
 citizens but they must have a cemetery. We 
 laid it out and walled it in, but we had to 
 shoot a man to start it." 
 
 During his stay on the ranch Eussell picked 
 up another story which he brought to London and 
 told with dramatic efiect. It appealed to him 
 professionally, as illustrating the readiness with 
 which the plea of acting in self-defence was 
 accepted by Western juries trying a prisoner on 
 the charge of murder or manslaughter. 
 
 Three citizens of Denver were drinking in a 
 little parlour off the bar of a saloon. One of them, 
 smitten with an attack of heart disease, suddenly 
 fell dead. His companions, conscious of a shady 
 record, were certain that as matters stood they 
 would be accused of killing the man. They 
 strolled into the bar, ordered a couple of cigars, 
 which they knew were kept in a back room, and 
 
280 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 whilst the barman was away on the errand they 
 carried in the corpse and fixed him in a chair 
 with his head bowed on his hands, as if he were 
 sleeping off a bout of drinking, 
 
 " He'll pay^ for the cigars," one said, pointing a 
 thumb over his shoulder at the dead man. And 
 they walked out. 
 
 The barman waited a reasonable time for the 
 sleeper to waken. Eeckoning it had lapsed, he 
 approached him, shook him roughly, and demanded 
 payment for the cigars. To his horror the man 
 rolled off the chair, and he saw he was dead. At 
 this moment two fresh customers entered, and the 
 barman, recognising his peril as the others had 
 done, said with an oath — 
 
 " I did it in self-defence." 
 
 Charles Eussell, whether as plain Q.C., Attorney- 
 General, or Lord Chief Justice, was the most 
 hospitable of men, alike at his town and country 
 house. When he lived in Harley Street and was 
 rapidly making his way to the front on the political 
 stage, he usually gave a dinner once a week through 
 the Parliamentary Session. They were all interest- 
 ing, though saddened for some by the circumstance 
 that Kussell not only did not smoke himself, but 
 resented smoking by others. It was poor consola- 
 tion for men accustomed to regard a cigar as not 
 the least delectable adjunct to a dinner, to see the 
 host spooning snuff into his gratified nostrils, and 
 flourishing the bandana that was the terror of 
 hostile witnesses, the dompter of juries. 
 
LOED EUSSELL OF KILLOWEN 281 
 
 One dinner, given during the height of the 
 Home Eule controversy, 1886, was memorable by 
 reason of the bold admixture of company. It 
 included Mr. Gladstone, Mr, Parnell, and Lord 
 Eandolph Churchill. On arriving, Lord Eandolph, 
 having made curiously formal greeting, whispered : 
 " It wants only one other man to make the circle 
 complete." 
 
 " "Who is that 1 " I asked. 
 
 " Arthur Balfour," he growled. 
 
 Lord Eandolph was in very bad temper, an 
 occasional frame of mind he was not habituated to 
 conceal. It appeared that the host had not men- 
 tioned to him that Parnell was expected, and he 
 complained that he was compromised by meeting 
 in the fraternity of the dinner-table the Irish 
 leader, at that time particularly unsavoury in 
 Conservative circles. It occurred to me at the 
 time to be a little difficult to realise this uncon- 
 ventional personage compromised by sitting at 
 meat with the Irish leader. There was a time, not 
 far past, when if secret negotiations and intimate 
 intercourse with Irish members would compromise 
 a man. Lord Eandolph would have been hopelessly 
 embarrassed. 
 
 It is one of the best features in English political 
 life that the rancour of partisanship is not habitually 
 carried into the social circle. Amongst the capitals 
 of Europe, it was only in London that such a dinner- 
 party as this could have taken place. The prin- 
 ciple underlying its conception might be further 
 
282 SIXTY lEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 extended. As a rule, through the London season, 
 diners-out in the political world find the company- 
 runs pretty straightly in grooves. At the house 
 of a Unionist belonging to either House of Parlia- 
 ment, one finds fellow-guests of the host's party 
 colour. The same experience is sufi"ered at the 
 table of a Liberal. In a very small way, with 
 something less of Lord Russell's audacity, we have 
 always observed his custom. At our table Trojan 
 and Tyrian meet in about equal proportions, and, 
 as far as I have observed, seem to enjoy the hour 
 of truce. 
 
 Mr. Balfour, dining at Ashley Gardens whUst 
 Leader of the House of Commons, not yet Prime 
 Minister, met Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman, 
 then Leader of the Opposition. The only point 
 of controversy that arose was upon the proposition 
 that Sir Henry should take the hostess in to dinner, 
 he insistiug that the honour properly belonged to 
 Mr. Balfour. At another time when Mr. Balfour 
 was dining with us, turning over in my mind the 
 names of people he would be most pleased to meet, 
 I felt no doubt about Sir William Harcourt. The 
 Unionist Education Bill was then before the House, 
 which, in accordance with rules then operative, 
 met at two o'clock in the afternoon, adjourned 
 for the dinner-hour, resuming debate at nine 
 o'clock. During the afternoon sitting, Mr. Balfour 
 at one side of the table and Sir William Harcourt 
 at the other had been almost viciously contending 
 over points of the Bill. In the evening they met 
 
LOED EUSSBLL OP KILLOWEN 283 
 
 at table with boyisli exuberance of good-fellow- 
 sliip. 
 
 On sitting down to dinner, Sir William 
 announced that he would have to be in his place 
 at the House when, at nine o'clock, debate on the 
 Education Bill was resumed. Mr. Balfour made 
 no remark at the moment. But when the finger 
 of the clock approached the hour he said : " Now, 
 Harcourt ; it's getting on for nine o'clock." 
 
 Beyond all things at the dinner-table Sir 
 William dearly loved a cigar, the bigger the better. 
 Coffee and cigars were still afar off. But a patriot 
 must make sacrifices ifor his country. Eising and 
 pushing back his chair, he said, "I beg to move 
 the closure," and, with a bow to the company, he 
 departed. 
 
 Mr. Balfour stayed on till after ten o'clock. 
 Sir William took an opportunity, somewhere about 
 9.30, of rising from the front Opposition bench 
 and deploring the absence of the Leader of the 
 House, the Minister in charge of the Bill. He 
 marvelled what call of duty or pleasure could keep 
 him away from his post, a little joke the point of 
 which, possibly with the exception of confidence 
 bestowed on his nearest colleague on the front 
 bench. Sir William had all to himself. 
 
 Charles Eussell was a member Of the Two Pins 
 Club, an institution named, if not founded, by 
 Frank Burnand. The derivation of the title will 
 be found in the final syllable of the names of those 
 famous horsemen Dick Turpin and John Gilpin. 
 
284 SIXTY YEAES IN THE "WILDERNESS 
 
 The members, who, in addition to some Punch 
 men, included half a dozen well-known outsiders, 
 met at an appointed rendezvous on fine Sunday 
 mornings, rode out to a country hostelry, lunched, 
 and trotted ho^e again in good time for dinner. 
 
 One evening, riding back through Twickenham, 
 Linley Sambourne, in the exuberance of his ever- 
 young soul, amused the company by affecting to 
 know the history of the dwellers in various houses 
 by Ahe way. This having been suffered for a 
 quarter of an hour. Sir Frank Lockwood quietly 
 asked — 
 
 " Did you know General Stores ? " 
 
 " Stores ! " cried the unsuspecting Sammy. 
 " I should think so. I knew him when he was a 
 captain at Aldershot. He went out to India, and 
 won his way up." 
 
 " Ah ! he lives over there," said Lockwood, 
 pointing to a shop-front which bore the legend 
 " General Stores." 
 
 One Spring-time Sir Charles Kussell, not yet 
 Lord Chief Justice, invited the Two Pins Club 
 to spend the week-end with him at his coimtry 
 place. I, habitually a week-ender by the seaside, 
 was not a member of the club, but was included 
 in the invitation. Lord Eosebery, a neighbour at 
 The Durdans, came over on the Saturday night to 
 dine at Tadworth Court. Inevitably he heard the 
 story, which was highly popular with the club. 
 The next day, at his bidding, we all went over to 
 The Durdans for luncheon. There being some 
 
LOED EUSSELL OF KILLOWEN 285 
 
 new faces at the table, out came the story 
 again. 
 
 " Well," said Lord Eosebery, " I have always 
 suspected the Two Pins Club had only one horse 
 among them. I know now they have only one 
 story." 
 
 Dining in Cromwell Road with Lord Russell of 
 Killowen, an estate to which the unfriended Irish 
 barrister had risen, I observed hung on the stair- 
 case Sargent's portrait of him, which had been one 
 of the features of the Academy. It was painted in 
 broad-bottomed wig, and the picturesque robes of 
 the Lord Chief Justice. Sitting by the host in 
 the drawing-room after dinner, I was struck afresh 
 with the rare beauty of the shape of his head. 
 Remarking that it seemed a pity that in a portrait 
 it should be covered by a wig, I ask if he would 
 sit for my collection of portraits of contemporaries. 
 It includes such diverse persons as Lord Rosebery, 
 Mr. Arthur Balfour, Mr. Chamberlain, Mr. John 
 Morley, Mr. Labouchere, Joseph Cowen of New- 
 castle, Lord Randolph Churchill, Tenniel, Burnand, 
 and Henry Irving. 
 
 These were busy men to submit themselves to 
 the infliction of posing for their portraits. The 
 difficulty was overcome by what turned out to be 
 a happy thought. More than twenty years ago, 
 at an exhibition at the Grosvenor Gallery, I 
 observed a portrait in Kiteat form by an unknown 
 artist. I was much struck by the style of the 
 work and the excellence of the likeness. I wrote 
 
286 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENBSS 
 
 to the artist, explaining that, being a busy person, 
 I could not find time to sit at his studio, but if he 
 would come to my study and paint me as I worked 
 with my secretary, I would give him a commission. 
 The ojffer was ^accepted, with admirable result, and 
 the system was extended in other directions. 
 
 Thus Mr. Arthur Balfour, at the time Chief 
 Secretary for Ireland, was painted at work in the 
 Irish Office. Lord Eandolph ChurchUl sat at his 
 desk ia his house in Connaught Place, and Lord 
 Eosebery, at the time Secretary of State for Foreign 
 Affairs, more or less meekly suffered in a smoking- 
 jacket in his study at Berkeley Square. 
 
 Made acquainted with these conditions, Lord 
 Kussell readily consented. But the Blind Fury 
 with the abhorred shears was abeady close at hand. 
 Some sittings were given at his town house, the 
 work being continued at Tadworth, whither the 
 dying man repaired. It is a splendid portrait, 
 the robe of the Lord Chief Justice, with the 
 mysteriously named S.S. collar round his neck, 
 adding grace and dignity to the figure. There 
 is a pathetic look on the fine face that indicates 
 consciousness of the approaching end. 
 
XXX 
 
 MR. GLADSTONE 
 
 I WAS with Mr. Gladstone through all the Mid- 
 lothian campaigns save one. The exception befell 
 in 1886 when I was chained to the editorial desk 
 in Bouverie Street. During one visit to Edinburgh 
 there happened an incident for the time disquiet- 
 ing. I had been lunching with a Scotch Member. 
 My host, a Lancashire Member named Summers, 
 and myself were walking into town when I suddenly 
 became aware that I had lost the sight of one eye. 
 I was at the time something more than usually 
 overworked, grappling with the nightly task of tele- 
 graphing a letter to the Daily News rarely less 
 than a column and a half in length, describing Mr. 
 Gladstone's tour. This was in addition to my daUy 
 letter to the Provinces, of equal length, with the 
 weekly epistle by way of filling up time on Thurs- 
 day. I always remember the exceeding kindness 
 of Willie Summers. He led me ofi" to the hospital, 
 where an expert, having examined my eyes, gave 
 me the comforting assurance that whilst there was 
 the possibility of regaining the lost sight at some 
 indefinite period, I should certainly be deprived of 
 it for a year or two. 
 
 287 
 
288 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 There was nothing for it but to give up my 
 work at Edinburgh and return home. Summers 
 and half a dozen other good fellows saw me 
 comfortably installed in a sleeping berth of the 
 night mail going south. I remember as I lay 
 awake, the train speeding through town and 
 country, taking with my remaining eye a look 
 into the future. It was no use repining. The 
 thing was, how was I to get along with only one 
 eye? Evidently I should have to wear a patch. 
 Should it be flesh-coloured or black ? I decided 
 upon black and fell asleep. 
 
 When I awoke at break of day I opened my 
 eyes, and lo! the sight had returned to the 
 damaged one. It was a little weak to begin with, 
 but gradually grew stronger, and I have never 
 since had trouble with it. 
 
 I saw a good deal of Mr. Gladstone during this 
 marvellous epoch in a memorable life. In addition 
 to being present at all his speeches, I met him 
 frequently at luncheon or dinner at Dalmeny and 
 elsewhere. For those who watched or shared the 
 triumph of his earlier visits to the constituency 
 there was something melancholy in the contrast 
 of the final act in the unparalleled drama. Between 
 the campaign that presaged the downfall of Lord 
 Beaconsfield's Ministry in 1880 and the one in 
 1892, which for the last time returned Mr. Glad- 
 stone member for Midlothian, there was fixed the 
 great gulf of Home Rule. During the earlier 
 campaigns up to, inclusive of, that of 1885, he was 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 289 
 
 the idol of a united enthusiastic party. Meetings 
 at which he appeared were tumultuous in their 
 welcome. When he left the hall tens of thousands 
 who could not find sitting or standing room within 
 its walls waited patiently in the streets to see him 
 drive by. A cheering crowd extended for fully a 
 mile on the road to Dalmeny. A body of the 
 younger Liberals made a nightly habit of forming 
 an escort, running on either side of the carriage 
 all the way. 
 
 In 1892 all was changed. There were anxious 
 days when doubt darkened his committee rooms 
 as to whether he, formerly master of a magnificent 
 majority, might creep in at the head of the poll. 
 His meetings were still crowded, but the multitude 
 in the streets had melted like snow on the river. 
 There was no more racing of an escort on the Dal- 
 meny Eoad. I recall the scene in the library at 
 Dalmeny when Lord Tweedmouth,then Mr. Marjori- 
 banks, Liberal Whip in the House of Commons, 
 brought the news that the national poll had closed 
 with a majority of forty for the Liberals. 
 
 " Too small, too small," said Mr. Gladstone, 
 shaking his head sadly and speaking in low grave 
 voice that betrayed his emotion. Constitutionally 
 sanguine, he had counted upon the country giving 
 him a majority of a hundred. 
 
 Here is a note from my diary made during 
 the last of the triumphal progresses through 
 Midlothian. 
 
290 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 " November 18, 1885. 
 
 "Went to Dalmeny and had a cheerful time. 
 Only a small party at luncheon — Lord and Lady 
 Eosebery, Mrs. Gladstone, Miss Mary Gladstone, 
 a Gladstone ^son whom I don't know, Mr. Spencer 
 Lyttelton, Lady Spencer, and a charming young 
 wife, daughter of Sir John Lubbock. I sat between 
 her and Lady Spencer and had an interesting con- 
 versation with the latter about Ireland. 
 
 " Mr. Gladstone came down half an hour late 
 and was rallied by our host upon his unpunctuality. 
 Lord Rosebery reminded him of something he 
 had once said about punctuality at luncheon time. 
 Mr. Gladstone took up the point with as much 
 energy as if it were one of Lord Randolph's accusa- 
 tions in the House of Commons. Finally he drew 
 from Lord Eosebery the admission that he had 
 been in error, that he (Mr. Gladstone) had never 
 said anything about being punctual at luncheon, 
 but had recommended the desirability of absence 
 of formality — that anybody should drop in as they 
 pleased and sit where they liked. 
 
 "Mr. G. was in the liveliest humour, talking 
 all the time in a rich musical voice. I sat imme- 
 diately opposite to him, with a pot of fern between 
 us. This he presently removed and talked to me 
 about the Punch staff, being much interested in 
 the Wednesday dinner, 
 
 "After luncheon Lord Eosebery proposed that 
 we should go and see the Castle, an ancient ruin 
 he has rebuilt on the sea coast which bounds 
 
MR. GLADSTONE 291 
 
 one side of Dalmeny Park. Forgot to note that 
 Lieutenant Greely was of the party. He was very 
 quiet at the luncheon. A tall, narrow-chested, 
 delicate-looking man, with bushy black whiskers, 
 and spectacles ; more like a student than an Arctic 
 explorer. Lord Eosebery walked with me to the 
 Castle, Lady Spencer went on before with Sir John 
 Lubbock's daughter, whose married name I did 
 not catch. Presently Greely arrived, and after- 
 wards Mr. Gladstone. 
 
 " The Castle is a charming place, full of old 
 furniture and precious memorials, chiefly belonging 
 to Stuart times. There are also many old books. 
 Mr. Gladstone was, as before, in the highest spirits, 
 talking incessantly. He picked up one of the 
 books and, sitting on a broad window seat, began 
 reading and discoursing. "We spent a good half 
 hour here sauntering through the rooms. At four 
 o'clock, much after his usual time, Mr. Gladstone 
 went oS for a walk with Lady Spencer and Lord 
 Eosebery. Lieutenant Greely walked with me to 
 my cab, and we had a long talk. 
 
 "Mr. G. was got up in the most extraordinary 
 style. He wore a narrow-skirted, square-cut tail 
 coat, made, I should say, in the year the Eeform 
 Bill was drafted. Over his shoulders was a little 
 cape, on his head a white soft felt hat. The back 
 view was irresistible. Mrs. Gladstone waits upon 
 him and watches him like a hen with its first 
 chicken. She is always pulling up his collar or 
 fastening a button, or putting him to sit in some 
 
292 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 particular chair, little attentions he accepts without 
 remark, and with much the same placid air a very 
 small and good-tempered babe wears when being 
 put to bed." 
 
 Eemembering our talk at Dalmeny and Mr. 
 Gladstone's interest in the personnel of the Punch 
 staif, I some time later invited him to meet them 
 at ray house. He replied — 
 
 "4r, Whitehall Gaedens, 
 
 "November 14:, 1888. 
 
 " Dear Me. Lucy, — I thank you much for the 
 invitation to join the goodly company to be 
 assembled round your table on the 11th of Dec. 
 But I am living in hope of escape to the country 
 before that date, and therefore I fear I am pre- 
 cluded from accepting your kind invitation. 
 
 " At the same time, if the dinner is in any case 
 to come off, and if it were allowed me in the event 
 of my being in or near London to offer myself, 
 I should thankfully accept such a reservation. — 
 " Faithfully yours, 
 
 "W. E. Gladstone." 
 
 The gathering came off on May 7, 1889. I 
 always remember as an instance of Mr. G.'s extreme 
 courtesy and unselfish consideration for others, 
 that, brought up in days when smoking was 
 regarded as bad form, personally disliking the 
 smell of tobacco, he commissioned his son Herbert 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 293 
 
 to see me and insist that at the forthcoming 
 dinner we should not depart from the custom of 
 the weekly symposium, but should at the proper 
 time smoke. The Punch staff were represented by 
 the editor, Frank Burnand ; Tenniel, not yet Sir 
 John ; Du Maurier, Linley Sambourne, and Harry 
 Furniss. Outsiders, in addition to the guest of 
 the evening, were Lord Granville, David Plunket, 
 now Lord Eathmore, and Lord Charles Beresford. 
 I quote from my diary — 
 
 " Mr. Gladstone dined with us to-night to meet 
 the editor and artists of the Punch staff. Was 
 much struck on nearer view with that feeling of 
 surprise at his amazing physical and mental virility 
 which surprises every observer of him in public 
 life. The only casual indications that he has 
 entered his eightieth year take the form of in- 
 creasing deafness and a slight huskiness in his 
 voice, which latter wears off as he talks — and he 
 talks with abounding freeness, though, as some 
 one observed, he is also ' a most attractive listener.' 
 One notable thing about his personal appearance 
 is the brightness of his eyes. They are fuller and 
 more unclouded than those of many a man under 
 fifty. Dowered at birth with a magnificent con- 
 stitution, he has all his life taken great care of it. 
 
 " Talking about John Bright, he spoke regret- 
 fully of the carelessness with which his old friend 
 dealt with himself. 
 
 " ' Bright,' he said emphatically, ' did nothing 
 
294 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENBSS 
 
 he should do to preserve his health, and everything 
 he should not.' 
 
 " If he had only been wise, and wise in time, 
 there is, in Mr. Gladstone's opinion, no reason why 
 he should not have been alive to-day, hale and 
 strong. He never would listen to advice about 
 himself. Mr. Gladstone told a funny story about 
 his habits on this score. Up to within the last 
 ten years he had no recognised medical attendant. 
 There was some anonymous unknown person 
 to whom he went for advice, of whom he spoke 
 oracularly. 
 
 " ' But,' said Mr. Gladstone, with that curious 
 approach to a wink that sometimes varies his grave 
 aspect, ' he would never tell his name, or say 
 where he lived.' 
 
 " About ten years ago Mr. Bright surprised Sir 
 Andrew Clark by appearing in his consulting room. 
 Sir Andrew, who knew all about his peculiarities 
 in this matter, asked him how it was he came to 
 see him. 
 
 " ' Oh,' said Mr. Bright, ' it's Gladstone ; he 
 never will let me rest.' 
 
 " The mischief of long neglect had been accom- 
 plished, but Mr. Bright acknowledged the immense 
 benefit he received, and nothing more was heard 
 of the anonymous doctor. 
 
 " Mr. Gladstone used to advise Mr. Bright as 
 one panacea for preserving health of mind and 
 body never to think of political afiairs after getting 
 into bed or on awakening in the morning. 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 295 
 
 "'I never do that,' Mr. Gladstone said; 'I 
 never allow myself to do it. . In the most exciting 
 political crisis I dismiss current matters entirely 
 from my mind when I go to bed, and will not 
 think of them till I get up in the morning. I 
 told Bright this, and he said, " That's all very 
 well for you, but my way is exactly the reverse. 
 I think over all my speeches when I am in 
 bed " ! ' 
 
 "Like Sancho Panza, Mr. Gladstone has a 
 great gift of sleep. Seven hours he always takes, 
 * and,' he added with a smile, ' I should like to 
 have eight. I hate getting up in the morning and 
 hate it the same every morning. But one can do 
 everything by habit, and when I have had my 
 seven hours' sleep I get up.' 
 
 " He evidently enjoyed the company in which 
 he found himself, and was in bounding spirits. 
 Nothing was more surprising than the range of his 
 topics, unless it were the completeness of his in- 
 formation upon each. Homer early came under 
 review, and for ten minutes he talked about him 
 with brightening eye, and the deep rich tones of 
 voice used only when he is moved. One thing I 
 remember he said about Homer that struck me as 
 new was that he evidently did not like Venus — 
 Aphrodite Mr. Gladstone preferred to call her. 
 He cited half a dozen illustrations of Homer's 
 dislike for a goddess usually fascinating to 
 mankind. Pictures and artists he discussed, 
 with special reference to the picture shows now 
 
296 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 open in London. He said he always liked to go 
 round a picture gallery with an artist. 
 
 " ' Artists,' he said, ' looking at a picture, 
 see in it less to criticise and more to admire than 
 is possible to ordinary people. An artist sees more 
 in a man's face than you or I.' 
 
 " Thirty-five times Mr. Gladstone has had his 
 portrait painted. He had, he said, the good fortune 
 to have fallen into the hands of a great artist, who 
 made the minimum of demand upon his time. In 
 his individual case, five hours sufficed Millais for 
 sittings for the most elaborate portrait, and this 
 time was given by Mr. Gladstone with real 
 pleasure. 
 
 '"Is Millais, then, a charming companion when 
 at work ? ' some one asked. 
 
 " ' Yes,' said Mr. Gladstone ; ' but not because 
 he talks. To see him at work is a delight, observ- 
 ing the way in which he throws his heart and soul 
 into it.' 
 
 "Mr. Gladstone's memory is amazing, more 
 particularly for events that took place half a 
 century ago. Oddly enough, where memory 
 has always failed him is in the matter of faces. 
 This gift, precious to princes, was withheld from 
 him. He told how some fifty years ago there was 
 a man going about with some theory (now sunk 
 into oblivion) by the application of which, in 
 connexion with electricity, he estimated a man's 
 character as a phrenologist does by feeling his 
 bumps. 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 297 
 
 " ' There were lie told me, tliree faculties in 
 wliicli I was lacking,' said Mr. Gladstone. ' One 
 was that I had no memory for faces, and I am 
 sorry to say it is quite true.' 
 
 " What were the other two gifts lacking he did 
 not say. This forgetfulness of faces he evidently 
 deeply deplored, probably recognising in it the 
 occasion of embarrassment. 
 
 " He talked a good deal about old times in the 
 House of Commons, lapsing into that charming 
 tone of reminiscence which on rare occasions, on 
 quiet Tuesday evenings or Friday nights, in olden 
 days delighted the House. One scene he recalled 
 with as much ease as if it happened yesterday, and 
 told the story with undesigned dramatic power. 
 It took place in the year 1841, in the division on 
 Sir Eobert Peel's resolution declaring lack of 
 confidence in the ministry of Lord Melbourne. 
 It was carried by a majority of 312 against 311. 
 
 " ' You were there,' he said to Earl Granville, 
 sitting immediately opposite to him. 'You had 
 not left the Commons then. Didn't you vote in 
 the division ? ' * 
 
 "Lord Granville deprecatingly shook his head, 
 and, to Mr. Gladstone's undisguised amazement, 
 admitted he could not remember what took place 
 in the House of Commons on a particular night 
 forty-eight years ago ! To him the scene was as 
 
 * Here Mr. Gladstone's marvellous memory was at fault. 
 Lord Granville succeeded to the peerage some years before the 
 episode described. 
 
298 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 vivid as if it had happened at the morning sitting 
 he had just left to come on to dinner. The question 
 was one on which party passion ran high. Forces 
 were so evenly divided that every vote was of 
 fateful eonsecfuence. 
 
 " ' The Whips of those days, somehow or other,' 
 he observed parenthetically, ' seemed to know better 
 than they do now how a division would go.' 
 
 " It was known that there would be, on one 
 side or the other, a majority of one. There was a 
 Whig member almost at death's door. 
 
 " ' He was dead,' Mr. Gladstone added emphati- 
 cally, ' except that he had just a little breath left 
 in him. The question was, could he be brought to 
 the House ? The Whips said he must, and he was. 
 He came in a Bath chair, and I never forget the 
 look on his face, his eyes glassy and upturned, his 
 jaws stiff. We, a lot of young Conservatives, 
 clustered round the door and saw him wheeled in. 
 At first we thought they had brought a corpse. 
 He voted, and the Bill was carried by a majority 
 of one.' 
 
 "In pathetic tone he regretted that oppor- 
 tunities of visiting America had disappeared. 
 
 " ' I always feel,' he said, ' a sense of deep 
 gratitude to the American people. They have 
 been exceedingly kind to me, kinder than I 
 deserve. At the time of their great war I gave 
 utterance to expression of opinions which, con- 
 sidering my connexion with the Ministry of the 
 day, had better been left unspoken. They forget 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 299 
 
 and Lave forgiven. I am almost daily receiving 
 tokens of the warm-heartedness of the American 
 people, and should like to look them face to face 
 in their own country.' 
 
 "He talked of the lately published correspond- 
 ence of Mr. Motley, the American Minister to 
 Germany. He spoke quite enthusiastically of the 
 letter Bismarck wrote to Motley, inviting him to 
 go and see him. 
 
 '"It is quite a revelation of the inner nature 
 of the man,' he said — * throws a flood of light on a 
 character habitually masked by official reserve. 
 One is glad to think of the Bismarck disclosed by 
 that letter.' 
 
 "He spoke with friendly warmth of quite 
 another statesman, the Prince of Wales (King 
 Edward VH.). ' A shrewd man, a keen observer, 
 full of tact, always educating himself without 
 deliberately sitting down to learn a lesson ; rarely 
 opening a book, but keeping himself au courant 
 with whatever is going on in the world ; and 
 when the time comes for him to take his part in 
 public business, doing it thoroughly.' 
 
 " Some one asked Mr. Gladstone if he thought 
 the manners of the House of Commons had suffered 
 deterioration compared with former times. After 
 a pause, during which his mind was probably 
 reviewing his fifty years of Parliamentary life, he 
 answered emphatically in the negative. He did 
 not remember Sir Charles Wetherell, who, with 
 ' his only lucid interval ' (as the Speaker of the 
 
300 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 day called the space between his waistcoat and his 
 braceless trousers), disappeared with the unreformed 
 Parliament. But he could recall many scenes in 
 the House beside which the explosions of the present 
 day sink into insignificance. 
 
 " One hopes he has forgotten, or at least refuses 
 to remember, a scene that took place in the House 
 of Commons during the height of the Jingo fever 
 in the Seventies, when having gone out to vote on 
 one of the protests against the foreign policy of 
 Mr. Disraeli, a mob of the ' gentlemen of England ' 
 clustered by the door of the division lobby hooted 
 and jeered him as he passed. 
 
 " Another improvement he noted in this con- 
 nexion is in respect of political cartoons. In his 
 early days, when an artist was engaged to produce 
 a caricature, he nearly always descended to gross 
 personal caricature, sometimes to indecency. To- 
 day Mr. Gladstone observes in the humorous 
 papers (he was speaking more particularly of 
 Punch) a total absence of vulgarity, and a fairer 
 treatment, which made this department of warfare 
 always pleasing." 
 
 Here is note of another dinner-party, this time 
 with Mr, Gladstone as the host. I leave it as it 
 was written, perceiving in coming upon it after 
 the lapse of nineteen years the intent of bringing 
 into fuller light his supremacy uninfluenced by his 
 surroundings. 
 
 "March 15, 1890.— Dined to-night with 
 
ME. GLADSTOISIE 301 
 
 Griadstone in St. James's Square, a house lie lias 
 rented for the season, a roomy gloomy mansion 
 built when George I. was king. On the pillars of 
 the porch stand in admirable preservation two of 
 the wrought iron extinguishers in which in days 
 gone by the link boys used to thrust their torches 
 when they had brought master or mistress home 
 or convoyed a guest. Inside hideous light-absorb- 
 ing flock papers prevail. One gets a sight rare in 
 these days of the gloominess amid which our 
 grandfathers dwelt. 
 
 " The dinner- table was as loveless in appear- 
 ance as everything else. Evidently sore lack of 
 the delicate taste that knows how to fling flowers 
 about and make tables bright with chastened light 
 and dainty colour. There was a central candelabra 
 in which blazed eight candles without a shade. 
 On either side stood two others, making hideous 
 bare light over the table. It was more than even 
 Mr. Gr., presumably accustomed to this kind of 
 thing, could stand. After a while he ordered the 
 smaller candlesticks to be removed. The company, 
 including myself, was mediocre ; the surroundings 
 such as I have hinted at. The host made up for 
 all shortcomings. He talked with unbroken flow 
 of spirits, always having more to say on any 
 subject that turned up, and saying it better, than 
 any one else. His memory is as amazing as his 
 opportunities of acquiring knowledge have been 
 unique. 
 
 " In his eighty-first year, as we sat at table 
 
302 SIXTY YEABS IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 to-night, he recalled as if it were yesterday an 
 incident that happened when he was eighteen 
 months old. Prowling about the nursery on all 
 fours, there suddenly flashed upon his conscious- 
 ness the existence of his nurse as she towered 
 above him. He remembered her voice and the 
 very pattern of her frock. This was his earliest 
 recollection, his first clear consciousness of exist- 
 ence. His memory of Canning when he stood for 
 Liverpool in 1812 was perfectly clear, for he was 
 then nearly as old as three and took an intelligent 
 interest in public afiairs," 
 
 Of a later date was his memory of Parliamentary 
 elections and the strange processes by which they 
 were accomplished. The poll was kept open for 
 days, and the custom was for voters to be shut 
 up in pens ten at a time. Emerging from these 
 enclosures, they recorded their votes. The gather- 
 ings were called tallies, and the reckoning up of 
 them was a matter watched with breathless interest 
 in the constituency. It was always a point of 
 honour for a side to get its tally first recorded 
 at the polling booth. 
 
 He told with great gusto of an incident that 
 befell at a Liverpool election in the first quarter 
 of the century. The poll opened at eight o'clock 
 in the morning, and the Liberal Party, determined 
 to have a start, marshalled ten voters, and with 
 them filled the pen by the polling booth as early 
 as four in the morniDg. The Conservatives were 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 303 
 
 to all appearances beaten in this first move. But 
 their defeat was only apparent. Presently a barrel 
 of beer conveniently tapped was rolled up to the 
 pen where time hung heavy on the hands of the 
 expectant voters. They naturally regarded this 
 as a delicate attention on the part of their friends, 
 and cans being handy they liberally helped them- 
 selves. After a while consternation fell upon them. 
 Man after man withdrew, till the pen was empty, 
 and ten Conservatives waiting in reserve rushed 
 in and took possession of the pen. 
 
 "The beer," said Mr, Gladstone, laughing till 
 his eyes moistened, " had been heavily jalaped." 
 
 In June, 1895, the Kiel Canal was opened by 
 the German Emperor. Sir Donald Currie, who on 
 earlier occasions had been Mr. Gladstone's princely 
 entertainer on health-giving sea-trips, conceived 
 the idea of conveying him to the spectacle in one 
 of the latest additions to the Union-Castle Line 
 fleet. Mr. G., who had for some time been in 
 ill-health, cordially accepted the invitation. The 
 Tantallon Castle was assigned to the service, and 
 an interesting company of guests invited to share 
 the privilege of the unique expedition. 
 
 It will appear from the subjoined log of the 
 voyage that Mr. Gladstone narrowly escaped from 
 an accident that might have rounded ofl"a marvellous 
 career by the commonplace incident of drowning. 
 
 "Hamburg, Thursday, June 13, '95. — Tantallon 
 Castle reached mouth of the Elbe this afternoon 
 
304 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 after pleasant passage. Yesterday the sunlight 
 was left behind, though, as the ship made her 
 way under grey skies over slate-hued sea, the 
 white cliffs by North Foreland faintly gleamed 
 in the sun. ,This morning it was again gloomy, 
 with a north-east wind making overcoats desirable. 
 Before noon the sun broke gloriously through the 
 clouds, lighting up the red stone ramparts of 
 Heligoland. The steamer passed the island near 
 enough to distinguish the little hamlet lying in 
 the flank of the rock like a handful of houses 
 dropped into a disused quarry. Gladstone had 
 not left his state room at this time. Before 
 Heligoland became again as a cloud on horizon 
 he came on deck, and had a long look at the 
 curious speck of British territory the most patriotic 
 Ministry of modern times surrendered to a foreign 
 Power. 
 
 " At breakfast time this morning there was 
 a lively sea on, that left some vacant chairs at 
 table. Weather since has brightened into perfect 
 summer day. Gladstone and every one else on 
 deck. To-morrow principal citizens of Hamburg 
 hope to entertain Gladstone at banquet given to 
 Donald Currie's guests. Not yet settled whether 
 he will go. On Saturday afternoon there will be 
 reception on board, and at night about a hundred 
 ladies and gentlemen dine here to meet him." 
 
 "Hamburg, Friday, June 14. — Gladstone went 
 ashore this afternoon ; drove through Hamburg 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 305 
 
 to the Alster, a lake in middle of town, the 
 pleasure resort of citizens. The morning was 
 fine, but before tour of lake was completed, squall 
 of wind and rain came on. Steamer pulled up 
 at artificial island created in centre lake, which 
 visitors explored. It owes origin to chance remark 
 attributed to the Emperor. Majesty said he would 
 like to see fiireworks over a cup cofiee sipped in 
 middle of lake. Straightway loyal Hamburgers, 
 regardless of expense, made an island. The Eoyal 
 procession will enter Canal from Elbe side, issuing 
 at Kiel. Hamburg is making preparations worthy 
 the historic occasion. Immense crowd awaited 
 arrival of Gladstone on return of tender from tour 
 of lake. In spite of wind and weather he walked 
 bareheaded through the cheering throng. Tantallon 
 remains here through to-morrow. Grand banquet 
 on board at night, when principal citizens will 
 have opportunity meeting Gladstone." 
 
 "In the Elbe, Saturday, June 15th. — A big 
 banquet in Hamburg last night; to-night Sir 
 Donald gives a return feast to the Burgomaster 
 and about one hundred of the principal people of 
 the town. Early to-morrow morning we start for 
 Copenhagen with every prospect of a lively passage 
 going round the Peninsula. 
 
 " News of Gladstone's coming seemed to have 
 passed like wildfire up the Elbe. As the Tantallon 
 steamed towards Hamburg between the low-lying, 
 brilliantly verdurous banks of river, ships and 
 
 X 
 
306 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 steamers outward bound steered dose in, crews and 
 passengers crowding the decks, eagerly scanning 
 the Cape liner. Slowing at entrance to river, the 
 FUrst Bismarck, a big German Atlantic passenger 
 steamer, forged ahead, the band playing 'God 
 Save the Queen' as she passed the Tantallon. 
 Gladstone, sitting on hurricane deck, bared his 
 head in response to ringing cheer with which he 
 was hailed as German liner swept by. At Bruns- 
 buttel we passed the western entrance of the Baltic 
 Canal, a modest introduction to a colossal work. 
 No signs visible of preparation for next week's 
 ceremony. Moored off Hamburg at seven o'clock. 
 Piers and embankments densely crowded. Popula- 
 tion seemed to have turned out en Ttvxsse to welcome 
 Gladstone." 
 
 " Stade, Sunday, June l&th. — Threading her 
 way down the broadening Elbe the Tantallon Castle 
 dropped anchor here, a place some eighteen mUes 
 distant from Hamburg, with intent to make early 
 morning start for Copenhagen." 
 
 Friedrichsruh, the home of Prince Bismarck, 
 is within measurable distance. Through a long 
 career, in the course of which the two statesmen 
 have occasionally come in communication on grave 
 affairs, they have never seen each other face to 
 face. On the active mind of Sir Donald Currie 
 flashed the idea that, being almost within haU of 
 each other, the long task of each accomplished, both 
 retired into private life, they would rejoice i?i the 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 307 
 
 opportunity of grasping each other by the hand. 
 Accordingly, accompanied by Lord Eendel, he 
 posted oflf to Friedrichsruh, leaving his card and 
 diplomatically hinting that Mr. Gladstone was in 
 the neighbourhood. The Prince despatched his 
 card to the two emissaries but ignored the existence 
 of the British statesman. 
 
 Mr. G. was exceedingly angry when he heard 
 of the well-meant overture. 
 
 " Off Copenhagen, Monday afternoon, June 17 th. 
 — Tantallon steered into sight of Copenhagen this 
 afternoon after pleasant voyage. Gladstone, 
 according to his wont, on deck greater part of 
 day, reading. Weather cold, wind blowing hard 
 from north-west. Matters looked lively for to- 
 day's cruise round the Denmark coast, boldly 
 jutting out to prevent the North Sea from burst- 
 ing in on the Baltic. Eeality proved better than 
 the prospect. Heavy rain fell at midnight, beating 
 down both wind and sea. Yesterday morning was 
 delightful. Came abreast of Heligoland at time 
 church bells were ringing. Our service postponed 
 quarter of an hour so that passengers might 
 again look at rosy-rocked islet, shining in the 
 sunlight like a ruby set in sapphire. 
 
 " Was expected that Gladstone might read 
 Lessons, which probably accounted for crowded 
 congregation gathered in saloon. Not least in- 
 teresting nor least interested was company of 
 ship's crew, dressed all in their best, keenly 
 
308 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 watching Gladstone as he sat near the Union- Jack- 
 decked table that served Mr. Drew for reading 
 desk. Gladstone joined heartily in responses and 
 singing, but left full duty of the morning service 
 to his son-in-law. 
 
 " Says he feels none the worse, rather better, 
 for Saturday night's exertions. These were by no 
 means light. Guests from Hamburg, about one 
 hundred ladies and gentlemen, on arrival con- 
 gregated in the drawing-room saloon. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Gladstone sat together by the door and 
 shook hands with nearly everybody. Some doubt 
 as to whether he would make speech at banquet, 
 to which at 8.30 over two hundred sat down. As 
 he says, he has, after fairly full prolongation of the 
 practice, given up public speaking. According to 
 present intention, never more will his voice be 
 heard in House of Commons or on public platform. 
 StUl he felt constrained by enthusiastic courtesy 
 of Hamburgers, and by recollection of the fact 
 that he was obliged to absent himself from the 
 banquet they had spread for him. Moreover 
 he recognised an opportunity, never to recur, of 
 doing something to bring two nations into closer 
 unity, of tying a new knot in the bonds of inter- 
 national peace. Hence the speech of which even 
 here, among the Danes, one hears applauding 
 cheers. As for the Germans privileged to catch 
 the perfect sentences as they fell with slow 
 emphasis from the veteran statesman's lips, their 
 enthusiasm was boundless. Shouts of * Hoch ! 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 309 
 
 hoch ! ' drowned the British ' Hear ! hear ! ' which 
 applauded the speech. 
 
 " Sometimes as Gladstone sits on deck, reading 
 or in deep thought, he looks sadly older than on 
 the day, not eighteen months past, when he walked 
 out of the House of Commons, having made what 
 was, all unknown to his audience, his last speech. 
 On Saturday night as he stood amid these strange 
 surroundings, English and Germans crowding round 
 his chair, he renewed his ancient fires. He spoke 
 throughout in full deep tones, and when he came 
 to the fine passage wherein he found, in the facility 
 with which the Hamburgers speak English, testi- 
 mony of innate loving-kindness between the two 
 nations, his eyes flashed, his back straightened, 
 and his voice rang out with its old unfaltering 
 music. 
 
 "This is a beautiful day, better even than 
 yesterday. A quiet sea with sunshine over all. 
 On Saturday night, when Mr. G. was sitting in 
 the saloon receiving the German visitors, he caught 
 sight of me. It was pleasant to see his face 
 brighten in recognition. He hardly knows any 
 one outside the home circle, partly because he 
 cannot see, partly because he forgets." 
 
 " Kiel, Thursday, June 2Qth. — This evening Mr. 
 G. and small party went aboard Sir William Ingram's 
 yacht Osprey to make a tour of the battleships. 
 As the yacht passed the British fleet, the Royal 
 Sovereign, Repulse and Blenheim dipped their 
 
310 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 colours in honour of the old man, who sat on 
 deck under shade of an ancient umbrella. 
 The officers, crowded to the gangways, saluted, 
 a courtesy Mr. G. acknowledged by raising his 
 bowler hat. 
 
 " We had not sped half a mUe when an incident 
 occurred that threatened momentous consequences. 
 A steam launch, putting off from the Italian 
 man-of-war Savoia, bore right down upon our 
 little craft of 60 tons. The course seemed so 
 deliberately chosen that those on board the yacht, 
 watching with increasing anxiety, expected every 
 moment that the helm would be put up and 
 collision avoided. 
 
 " As the launch held on her way, straight as an 
 arrow to the mark, we to our horror discovered 
 that the man at the helm was in the act of drink- 
 ing from a bottle. Apparently no look-out was 
 kept. Holding straight on her course, the steam 
 launch smashed into the yacht. At the very last 
 moment the man at the helm, having finished his 
 bottle and being aroused to a sense of danger by 
 shouts from the yacht, shifted the helm. Thus 
 when the blow was struck the launch was beginning 
 to turn off, and so smote the yacht at an angle 
 that avoided what a minute earlier seemed absolute 
 destruction. 
 
 " I sat close to Mr. Gladstone during the terrible 
 minutes. I am not sure that with his dimmed 
 eyesight he realized the peril. He must have 
 heard the shouting, and seen the rush of passengers 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 311 
 
 to the side of the yacht, warning off the launch. 
 If he understood he faced the peril without a sign 
 of fear. 
 
 " The captain and engineer of the Osprey hurried 
 below to inquire what damage had been done to 
 our cockleshell of a hull. Strange to say, none 
 was visible, the scraping of the paint of the 
 bulwarks being the only token of the encounter. 
 The Italian boat was seriously injured, her cut- 
 water being wrenched to one side, 
 
 " The incident was observed from the Savoia, 
 and the launch was smartly recalled." 
 
 " In the North Sea, Sunday, June 23rd. — On the 
 whole yesterday was the most charming day of the 
 voyage. We went from Kiel to Gottenberg, 
 approaching the red-tiled town through a lovely 
 fjord. The big steamer anchored about two miles 
 from the town, and we proceeded thither in a tug. 
 Mr. Gladstone happened to have a chair placed for 
 him close to a bunk in which I sat. I never put 
 myself in his way, and now took no notice of his 
 arrival. He looked at me for a moment. Then he 
 turned to Mrs. G. and I heard his deep voice 
 saying : ' Isn't that Mr. Lucy ? ' She nodded, 
 and turning to me with his face lighted up by the 
 old smile he shook hands with much heartiness. 
 He told me in the course of a long conversation 
 that he knew people now, not by their features,^ 
 which he could not clearly see, but by their 
 contour. I suggested that Armitstead was in that 
 
312 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 respect a very useful companion. No mistaking 
 him when he loomed near. At which he deeply 
 chuckled. Lord Peel paid a return visit to the 
 Tantallon on Friday. We had a pleasant chat, 
 in course of which he spoke very highly of Mr. 
 Gully in the Speaker's Chair. I told Mr. G. this. 
 He said P. had spoken to him to the same effect. 
 
 " ' And/ he added, ' though I don't follow these 
 things very closely now, I quite agree with him.' 
 
 " Gottenberg is a charming town, with a lovely 
 loch in front, behind a rich green country. At 
 the hotel we had the best luncheon I ever sat 
 down to — things dainty, new, perfectly cooked and 
 served. Afterwards we went by special train to 
 see a waterfall. This was not of itself worth the 
 ninety miles' journey involved. But the line 
 trended through a beautiful country, along green 
 pastures, by a shining river, past snug hamlets of 
 wooden houses, stained a deep red that harmonized 
 with the living green in which it was set." 
 
 Mighty things happened in London during our 
 brief voyage. On the morning of Saturday, June 
 22, there reached us at Gottenberg a telegram 
 announcing the defeat of Lord Rosebery's Govern- 
 ment on the Cordite question. Arrived at Gravesend 
 on the Monday morning, there were brought aboard 
 newspapers hot from the press. Whilst every one 
 fought for a copy, Mr. Gladstone, offered first 
 choice from the precious bundle, looked a little 
 bored. After a moment's hesitation he selected 
 
ME. GLADSTONE 313 
 
 the Daily News, tucked it under his arm, and 
 walked off to his state cabin on deck. The news 
 would keep till he had settled down in his arm- 
 chair by the table, on which were set his Danish 
 dictionary and the book which with its assistance 
 he was already able to read. 
 
 It was characteristic of him that in this his 
 eighty-sixth year, bound on a voyage that would 
 include a couple of days spent in Denmark, he 
 set himself to learn the Danish tongue. It was 
 no new development of energy. Writing to me 
 under date Jan. 22, 1892, Sir Algernon West, 
 his private secretary during a long term of 
 Premiership, says — 
 
 " I have just returned from a fortnight's visit 
 to Mr. Gladstone at Biarritz, where I left him 
 younger and stronger than all of us. The day I 
 left he was going to take a lesson in Basque 
 literature and history ! Long may his vigour last." 
 
 The last time I looked upon the mobile face, 
 the stately figure, familiar in the multitudinous 
 phases of a quarter of a century, was when, 
 his last sea voyage finished, Mr. Gladstone drove 
 homeward from Liverpool Street Station. Three 
 years earlier had he passed through London 
 when the City was throbbing in anticipation of a 
 General Election his carriage would have been 
 followed by an excited crowd, some cheering, 
 others hooting as conscience and conviction dictated. 
 Now as he moved along at slow pace, necessitated 
 
314 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 by the midday traffic, people on the pathways, 
 recognizing the well-known face, stopped to regard 
 him. " There's Gladstone ! " they said to each 
 other, lifted their hats in salutation, and passed on. 
 
 There wa^ driving through the crowded streets 
 not the strenuous statesman round whose banner 
 for fifty years the turmoil of political warfare had 
 raged. It was only his ghost, a wraith that had 
 nothing to do with contests at the poll, with 
 majorities in the country or in the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 One of the last letters Mr. Grladstone wrote 
 from Downing Street had reference to the position 
 taken up by the Daily News on the Home Rule 
 question, described in an earlier chapter. 
 
 " 10, Downing Street, Whitehall, 
 
 " March 5, '94. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Lucy, — Though under very great 
 pressure I must thank you for your kind letter. 
 
 " I must add a word to your statement of 
 the solitude in which the Daily News took and 
 gallantly maintained its post. I remember a day 
 on which the Pall Mall Gazette, under its clever 
 but erratic editor, published an object lesson of 
 the field of battle on the Irish question. On 
 one side were D.N. and P.M.G. — on the other 
 the rest. I took my P.M.G., drew a noose round 
 the fighting figure, and with a long line at the 
 end of it, carried it over to the other side, and 
 by this verifying process placed the support of 
 
MB. GLADSTONE 315 
 
 the P.M.G. at its true value, and left B.N. 
 occupying absolutely alone its place of honour. 
 I hope my account is intelligible. 
 
 " I remain faithfully yours, 
 
 " W. E. Gladstone." 
 
 A page of Toby, M.P.'s Diary appearing in 
 Punch the week after Mr. Gladstone's death thus 
 concluded : "At the time of his second retirement 
 the weight of twenty years was added to the 
 burden of his prodigious labours. His mind was 
 as bright, his intellect as keen as ever. But the 
 flesh truly was weak. So he came not any more, and 
 the House of Commons is poorer through all time 
 to come by the loss of his illuminating presence. 
 
 " Business done — Mr. Gladstone's. 
 
 " ' Thou thy worldly task hast done, 
 Home art gone and ta'en thy wages.' " 
 
 From Sir George Trevelyan. 
 " Welcombb, Steatfoed-on-Avon, 
 
 " Maij 25, 1898. 
 
 "Dear Lucy, 
 
 " On page 252 of this week's Punch, 
 column 2, line 12 from bottom, you will find what 
 to me (as a reader of the ' Essence of Parliament ' 
 ever since the first month of 1881,) is the most 
 moving touch of everything which has been 
 written since Thursday last. 
 
 " Ever yours truly, 
 
 " G. 0. Tkevelyan." 
 
XXXI 
 
 A SCAPE-GOAT OF THE BOER WAR 
 
 I MET Henry Colvile in January, 1884. Mrs. Lucy 
 and I were returning from our journey round the 
 world. Colvile had completed a survey of the 
 Arbain Eoad in _ the Libyan Desert, through 
 which there was some talk of making a railway. 
 He joined the ship at Suez, and, sitting opposite 
 each other at the dinner-table, we speedily became 
 friends. He was, I fancy, one of the earliest users 
 of the Kodak. I still possess a number of photo- 
 graphs, snapshots taken by him on his interesting 
 ride through lands unknown. 
 
 He was, with individual diflPerences, the same 
 type of man as Fred Burnaby. The two shared in 
 common a passion for seeking danger in the car of 
 a balloon. Whilst still a captain in the Grenadiers 
 Colvile married his first wife. It occurred to him 
 that it would be an agreeable thing, instead of 
 going off after their wedding on a home or foreign 
 tour, to start on a honeymoon in a balloon. The 
 bride consenting, the happy couple drove from the 
 church door to the place where Colvile's balloon 
 was inflated with gas, and had a most successful 
 trip. 
 
 316 
 
A SCAPE-GOAT OF THE BOEE WAR 317 
 
 A hard worker, a born soldier, a raaii of 
 dauntless courage, his promotion was steady. The 
 outbreak of the Boer War found him at Gibraltar, 
 in command of the Infantry Brigade. He urgently 
 applied for an appointment at the seat of war, and 
 Lord Eoberts, knowing his man, gave him com- 
 mand of the Ninth Division. Here seemed an 
 opening that might lead him into the front rank 
 of British generals. It proved to be a chasm that 
 engulfed fame and fortune. 
 
 Having been five times honourably mentioned 
 in despatches from the field of battle, his name 
 became ominously familiar to the British public by 
 a succession of disasters. A force of mounted men 
 and guns, under command of Colonel Broadwood, 
 riding towards Bloemfontein were ambushed at 
 Sauna's Post by the Boers under De Wet and 
 thoroughly routed. ColvUe was under orders to 
 advance from Bloemfontein and reinforce them. 
 He came near enough to hear the guns. But, 
 according to the charge brought against him, he 
 was content to make a slow flanking movement, 
 and the Boers were left undisturbed in their 
 victory. 
 
 Some months later, Colvile, in command of the 
 Highland Brigade, was moving towards Heilbron. 
 A force of 500 Yeomanry had been sent to join 
 him at Lindley. On their arrival they found he 
 had passed through. Halting for a day with 
 intention to follow on his track, they were attacked 
 by the ubiquitous De Wet, and after hard fighting 
 
318 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 surrendered. The charge brought against Colvile 
 in this case was that, disregarding the cry for help 
 from the Yeomanry, he continued his march. 
 
 Citation of these facts is necessary for expla- 
 nation of the subjoined letter, in which Colvile 
 states his own case — 
 
 "9, Wbllington Couet, Albert Gate, 
 
 " Jan. 19, 1901. 
 
 "Dear Lucy, — I was placed on the retired list 
 in last night's Gazette, so now I imagine the W.O. 
 and I are quits over the ' insubordination.' I sinned 
 and have been punished, and am now free to peg 
 away at the old question of my conduct in South 
 Africa. I hear they say the fact of the telegram 
 being a forgery is unimportant, and I should not 
 be surprised if they find that the whole Yeomanry 
 incident is unimportant too, and fall back on 
 Sauna's Post. I believe I have an even better case 
 over that than on Lindley. 
 
 " It must always be a matter of opinion whether 
 I should have turned back to help the Yeomanry 
 or not; but Sauna's Post can be reduced to a 
 question of hard fact. Would it have been 
 possible under any circumstances (starting from 
 Bloemfontein at the time ordered) for me to 
 recapture Broadwood's guns? I say 'No.' Of 
 course they will say 'Yes,' and if there is an 
 inquiry we shall both produce our evidence. 
 
 " There has been some rather shady work over 
 my retirement. But I do not want to argue about 
 
A SGAPB-GOAT OF THE BOEE WAE 319 
 
 that, as I look upon the charge of insubordination 
 as only a red herring intended to take the scent oflF 
 the main issue. 
 
 " I return to Lightwater on Monday, but could 
 meet you any day, if there is anything you would 
 like to know. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 "H. E. COLVILE." 
 
 The insubordination to which he alludes, which 
 led to his being placed on the retired list, was a 
 statement made by him to a newspaper repre- 
 sentative on his return to England. 
 
 After the Lindley incident he was relieved of 
 his command in South Africa, but was permitted 
 to return to the high military position formerly 
 occupied by him at Gibraltar. Fortune, pursuing 
 him with relentless malignity, stabbed him afresh. 
 Hardly had he settled down in his old quarters 
 when a curt command from the War Office practi- 
 cally dismissed him from the service. He came 
 home a broken man, and never regained oppor- 
 tunity of rejoining the service he loved. He 
 looked me up in London and, finding I was in the 
 country, posted off to Hythe, bringing his maps 
 and memoranda with him. I recall his figure as 
 he knelt on my study floor with the map spread 
 out before him demonstrating the sheer impossi- 
 bility of his men, setting out from Bloemfontein at 
 the time ordered, arriving at Sauna's Post in time 
 to recapture Broadwood's guns. 
 
320 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 His last tragedy brought him the relief of 
 death. KidLng, according to his wont, at top- 
 speed on a motor-bicycle, he came into collision 
 with a motor-car driven by an old friend and 
 sometime comrade. When the lights were turned 
 on the prostrate body it was found that Henry 
 ColvUe's troubles in this world were over. 
 
XXXII 
 
 " C.-B." 
 
 At three historic epochs falling within my personal 
 observation politicians at head- quarters, voicing 
 opinion prevalent at the moment in London 
 society, have grievously erred. The first dates 
 back to 1873, when it was generally agreed that, 
 by declining the Premiership pressed upon his 
 acceptance after the resignation of Gladstone, 
 Disraeli lost his final opportunity. The second 
 was when Gladstone's departure for Midlothian in 
 the spring of 1880 was regarded as a forlorn hope 
 as far as it concerned his chances of again becom- 
 ing Premier. The third was when the claims of 
 Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman to succession to 
 the Liberal Premiership were, in the closing years 
 of his leadership of the Opposition, thought scarcely 
 worth discussing. 
 
 As history records, Disraeli in 1874 triumphed 
 over the deeply rooted prejudices of the Tory 
 Party, disarmed the long-cherished distrust of his 
 sovereign, and became the most powerful Premier 
 since the days of Pitt. Gladstone came back to 
 power in 1880 to commence not the least striking 
 or important chapter of his marvellous career. 
 
 321 Y 
 
322 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Within a few months of his accession to the 
 highest office open to a Commoner, Sir Henry 
 Campbell-Bannerman became the most popular 
 Leader of the House sioce Palmerston sat on the 
 Treasury Beijch, his too-early death being mourned 
 with unfeigned sorrow in both political camps. 
 
 The difference in the position of CampbeU- 
 BauBerman as Leader of the Opposition and that 
 almost immediately conceded to him as Premier 
 can be fully realised only by daily witnesses of 
 scenes in the House of Commons during successive 
 phases of his career. The party fealty, in many 
 cases ripening into personal affection, displayed 
 towards him during his brief Premiership, finds 
 parallel only in the insubordination and habitual 
 slighting that fretted him while he sat on the 
 other side of the Table. A man constitutionally 
 disposed to scholarly indolence, he at the call of 
 duty came to the help of the Liberal Party when 
 sections of it had worried Sir WUliam Harcourt 
 into resignation. His view of the situation is 
 cheerily indicated in the following letter, written 
 on acceptance of the Leadership in succession to 
 Sir William Harcourt : — 
 
 "Belmont Castle, Meiglb, Scotland, 
 
 " Janmri/ 15, 18dd. 
 
 " My dear Lucy, — Very many thanks for 
 your letter and for your flattersome encyclical. 
 You are always too kindly, and do not keep so 
 strictly to the truth as we higher principled 
 politicians do. 
 
" C.-B." 323 
 
 " Seriously, however, I am overwhelmed by 
 the friendliness of the public generally and the 
 party in particular. As to my immediate col- 
 leagues, nothing could be more urgent and instant 
 than their expression of desire for me to take the 
 foremost place — and I really could not have 
 entertained the idea had it not been for their 
 solidarity. 
 
 "Can it be that we have fo? some time had 
 an element warring against this necessary solid- 
 arity among us 1 Can there be some sensation 
 of relief that — but no ; why waste time on such 
 an impossible conjecture ? 
 
 " If it comes, then, we must make the best of 
 it, whether we like it or not, and I can answer 
 for one who does not like it. 
 
 "In the mean time the thought uppermost with 
 me is, how nice it would be to be at Hythe ! We 
 have had an odious winter in Caledonia, every 
 day different from, and worse than, its predecessor. 
 You have been all this time favoured by the light 
 breezes of the balmy South. How we envy you. 
 I presume you constantly make the run over from 
 Dover to Calais, laying up a stock of health for 
 the stale and stuffy Lobby. 
 
 "We shall soon meet, I dare say, and I hope 
 that whatever changes supervene (that is, I 
 think, a good Press word) you will always 
 jfind me 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 "H. C.-B." 
 
324 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Within a period of twelve months things had 
 grown so bad that a second meeting of the Liberal 
 Party at the Keform Club was summoned, to hear 
 the declaration that if matters did not mend, a 
 new Leader must be sought. 
 
 Towards the close of the Session of 1899 I 
 took the opportunity in a weekly article which 
 had much vogue in Parliamentary circles, to write 
 a few plain words on the situation. It brought 
 me a letter of which the following are such extracts 
 as may be printed at this date. 
 
 "Maeienbad, Aiufust 13, '99. 
 
 "My dear Lucy, — I am greatly obliged to 
 you: 
 
 " (a) For your writing in the Observer, 
 
 " (b) For sending it to me, 
 
 " (c) For your letter. 
 
 " (d) For enclosiug your riposte to . 
 
 " I do not foam and fret about it quite so much 
 as you do, though I wince internally. ... I 
 blame rather the decent, quiet, well-disposed rank 
 and file who do not see the harm they are doing 
 in following unruly courses. 
 
 " Also, the whipping might be more strenuous. 
 But after all there are two theories. One is that 
 there should always be the observance of dis- 
 cipline; the other is that it is better not to be 
 always cracking the whip, but rather to let them 
 have their fling on immaterial things so long as they 
 go straight on the bigger questions. We shall see. 
 
" C.-B." 325 
 
 "Here we are. . . . No M.Ps. as yet and only- 
 two Lords; thus no society for you. Stick to 
 Hythe, therefore. . . . 
 
 " What a drama at Eennes and Paris ! We 
 have seen nothing like it for thrilling interest in 
 our time. 
 
 "Remember me to your wife. We are both 
 pretty well and recovered from a terrible hot 
 journey out. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " H. C.-B." 
 
 The drama alluded to was the second trial 
 of Dreyfus. 
 
 The fragment reveals the genial, lofty character 
 of the writer. He was daily wounded in the house 
 of a friend. Having sacrificed treasured ease to 
 the services of the party, having no axe to grind 
 on his own account, rich, popular, a man of 
 simplest, most wholesome tastes, he had, there 
 being no one else acceptable for the sacrifice, 
 loyally given up all. His reward was revolt in 
 his own ranks, an attitude of hostility, curiously 
 mixed with contempt, on the part of gentlemen 
 opposite. Yet he makes no complaint, indulges in 
 no recrimination. 
 
 When, a little more than five years later, he 
 became First Minister of the Crown, dispenser of 
 honours, he, doubtless with his genial smile, tossed 
 a title to one of the men who had been foremost in 
 organising the petty revolts among a wing of the 
 
326 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Liberal Party that weakenied the hands of its 
 nominal Leader and gave the enemy occasion 
 to blaspheme. The prize was probably acquired 
 by the practice successful in the case of the im- 
 portunate widow. But how many are there 
 who would have displayed the magnanimity of 
 Campbell-Bannerman towards a former foe, whom 
 it certainly was not worth whUe to buy over ? 
 
 It was this caballing behind the scenes among 
 sections of his own following that accounted for 
 the comparative failure of Campbell-Bannerman as 
 Leader of the Opposition. If, as was rudely made 
 apparent, he did not command the confidence of 
 his own following, how could he hope to win the 
 respect of the adversary? It was certainly not 
 forthcoming. There were some painful scenes in 
 the closing Sessions of what was known as the 
 Khaki Parlianaent. When Campbell-Bannerman 
 addressed the House, members who crowded the 
 benches to hear Mr. Asquith speak ostentatiously 
 withdrew. Mr. Balfour with rare variance from 
 constitutional habit of chivalrous courtesy did not 
 hesitate to sneer at his later habit of reading his 
 speeches from MS. Mr. Chamberlain, following 
 him in debate, harped on the same string. Had 
 this method of attack been resented by swift out- 
 burst of angry protest from the Liberals it would 
 have been endurable. Bitterest ingredient in the 
 cup was that the assailants were unrebuked. 
 
 Campbell-Bannerman bore this discipline so 
 uncomplainingly — wincing internally as he admits, 
 
" C.-B." 327 
 
 but too proud to show the wound — that it must 
 have been something of a revelation to his col- 
 leagues on the Front Bench when, the result of the 
 General Election of 1906 declared, they found him 
 resolved not only to take the Premiership, but to 
 be master in his Cabinet household. The fact, 
 discerned by his clear sight, was that he was the 
 elect of the people. While the House of Commons 
 as a whole underestimated his capacity, there was 
 nothing approaching the enthusiasm among Liberal 
 members that at repeated crises sustained the pre- 
 dominance of Gladstone. London misunderstood 
 and belittled him. The Provinces, having the 
 advantage of perspective, saw him in a truer 
 light, and were determined to have none other as 
 Premier. Some of his colleagues on the Front 
 Bench, solicitous for his health and comfort, wanted 
 to shelve him in the restful obscurity of the House 
 of Lords. It was no secret at the time that one 
 whose collaboration in the Ministry was almost 
 indispensable, for some days refused to take office 
 if Campbell-Bannerman continued to lead the party 
 in the Commons. C.-B. plodded along, smiling, 
 courteous, but implacable. In the end he got 
 his way, and lived long enough to establish a 
 rarely equalled position as Leader, not only of 
 his party, but of the House of Commons. 
 
 It was while he was Leader of the Opposition 
 he wrote the subjoined letter, correcting a blunder 
 into which I had fallen in sketching one of my 
 "Pictures in Parliament" for the Daily News. 
 
328 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 " 6, Geosvenoe Place, S."W., 
 
 " February 12, '96. 
 
 "My dear Lucy, — That I should be able to 
 catch you out ! I thought you knew everything 
 about Parliamentary practices. 
 
 "You speak of me as 'forgetting' to take my 
 hat off when the Speaker read the Speech. On the 
 contrary, I kept it on purposely, maintaining the 
 traditional rule of the House, which has always 
 been that members uncover to hear a direct 
 message from the Queen, but never to hear a 
 message read at second-hand from the Chair. 
 
 "When I first came into the House this dis- 
 tinction was universally observed. It was observed 
 to the end by Northcote, Lowe, Mr. G., Hartington, 
 and aU the vieille ecole. K I am the last survivor of 
 the true faith and practice, I am proud of the fact. 
 
 " It is not worth taking notice of, and please 
 don't correct or alter anything. But if you see 
 me on another occasion with my hat on, remember 
 it is high principle and not slackness. 
 
 " As I said, I am ' real glad ' to catch you out. 
 
 "Yours, 
 
 "H. C.-B." 
 
 Here is another specimen of his light touch 
 when he took pen in hand. 
 
 " House of Commoks, 
 
 « July 1. 
 
 " My dear Lucy,— When I was a freshman at 
 Trinity I went one Sunday to Church. When I 
 
" O.-B." 329 
 
 entered the door I found the sermon going on, and 
 a very dandified and vapourish Fellow of my 
 College in the pulpit. With much sign of woe 
 he was exclaiming, ' Alas, my brethren ; alas ! and 
 thrice alas ! ' I was so touched that I did not 
 sample the sermon any longer, but came away. 
 
 " These lamentable words are still ringing in 
 my ear as I take up my pen to say that vaccination 
 is not exhausted. Hercules in the form of Mr. 
 Chaplin has been struggling with the python, 
 whose heads all come from the Midland counties. 
 He chops away at them, but as he chops they 
 grow. Probably if he whistled softly to them, and 
 gave them something nice to nibble at, in the 
 shape, say, of a conscientious objector, he would 
 have scotched the beast by this time. But his 
 ways are not as our ways. 
 
 "So I am afraid I am shut out from your 
 charming luncheon party on Tuesday : I shall be 
 shouting ' Order, order,' instead of eating and 
 drinking. Pray make my apologies to your wife, 
 and if you could convey delicately to Mrs. Craigie 
 how sorry I am not to meet her again, you would 
 be the friend you always are to 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " H. C.-B." 
 
 The Mrs. Craigie alluded to was " John Oliver 
 Hobbes," whom he had met at our house some time 
 before, and with whom he, in common with man- 
 kind, was greatly charmed. 
 
330 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 In the spring of 1904 Sir James Knowles, 
 editor of the Nineteenth Century, perceiving close 
 approacli of the downfall of the Unionist Ministry, 
 asked me to draft a Liberal Cabinet for publication 
 in the pages pf his Eeview, In an evil moment I 
 undertook a delicate, as it turned out, a disastrous 
 task. The forecast, appearing at a dull season, 
 was widely quoted and keenly commented upon. 
 It cost me one valued friendship and for awhUe 
 imperilled another. In the first case the Nine- 
 teenth Century assigned to a certain M.P. one of 
 the highest and most honourable offices connected 
 with an incoming Ministry. It was not, however, 
 the one upon which my old friend had set his 
 heart, and the indiscretion proved to be the un- 
 pardonable sin. Shortly after the appearance of 
 the article, I met him at a memorable dinner given 
 by Lawson Walton, at which there were gathered 
 nearly every one of the leading men of the Liberal 
 Party, who — including the host — eventually be- 
 came members of the Campbell-Bannerman 
 Ministry, Instead of the hearty greeting with 
 which I had been familiar for a dozen years, I was 
 (in a Parliamentary sense of course) slain by a cold 
 stare and a slight nod. 
 
 I searched my heart for trace of guile or dis- 
 loyalty towards one whose friendship was based 
 upon a too-generous appreciation of encourage- 
 ment publicly given to him, when he, a new 
 member, was endeavouring to make his way in the 
 House of Commons. There was absolutely none, 
 
" C.-B." 331 
 
 and I remained in pained puzzlement till I recalled 
 tlie hapless article. I am not much good in these 
 unfamiliar circumstances, being indisposed to clutch 
 at the suddenly chilled hand of ancient friendship. 
 Accordingly " we walk apart." A particularly 
 foolish "river flows between." When, as some- 
 times happens, we meet under hospitable auspices 
 my old friend and I do not know each other. 
 
 In this same article, mindful of the long claims 
 of Earl Spencer, I nominated him for the Premier- 
 ship, suggesting Campbell-Bannerman as Secretary 
 of State for War with a seat in the House of Lords. 
 Here is clearly seen the under-estimation of his 
 capacity, on an earlier page lamented on the part 
 of the House of Commons generally. The freezing 
 consequences were less complete than in the case 
 of the other offended friend. But the chill was 
 unmistakable. It was characteristic of Campbell- 
 Bannerman's gentleness of nature that when 
 we chanced to foregather at any of the social 
 festivities of the Session, he was effusively friendly 
 in his bearing towards Mrs, Lucy, while a formal 
 shake of the hand was my full measure of 
 greeting. 
 
 When he was smitten with illness and the 
 approaching end seemed not afar off, I resolved to 
 come to an understanding with him on the subject. 
 I wrote recalling old days, and asking him plainly 
 to declare wherein and whereby I had sacrificed a 
 long-prized friendship. He replied — 
 
332 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 " Hotel Continental, Bueeitz, 
 
 ''Jan. 15,1908. 
 
 "My dear Luct, — Your friendly letter gave 
 me much pleasure. ... I can at once relieve your 
 mind of any idea that anything has been done by 
 you to give offence to me in the slightest ; nor am 
 I conscious of any difference in my attitude ; but, 
 of course, opportunities of friendly relationship 
 are more frequent among those who are completely 
 in political accord. 
 
 " I have never varied in my regard for yourself 
 and the personage whom you call your rural 
 secretary [Mrs. Lucy]. Please remember me most 
 kindly to her, and 
 
 " Believe me 
 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " H. Campbell-Bannerman." 
 
XXXIII 
 
 OUR DOGS 
 
 The first was Laddie, a Tyneside collie, the gift 
 of Joseph Cowen. He was a winning, graceful 
 creature with one ineradicable fault. Some human 
 beings are servile to dram-drinking, Laddie was 
 a slave to tram-following. We lived in Brixton 
 Eoad in those days. Up and down the broad 
 thoroughfare flowed an interminable stream of 
 horsed-trams going north and south. Laddie didn't 
 care in which direction they might be moving ; he 
 was straightway on their trail. 
 
 I well remember a Sunday afternoon a con- 
 siderable portion of which I spent in pursuit of 
 Laddie. The memory is the more acute since the 
 chase opened about luncheon-time. He set off 
 towards town, barking furiously, in pursuit of 
 a tram. I followed on its immediate successor and 
 came up within touch of him at Kennington Park, 
 where trams halted for awhile. Doubling at sight 
 of me, he went off southward at the hinder wheels 
 of another tram, I following him at the expense 
 of a second twopence. As parallel lines never 
 jjjeet, so tranj-cars, started at due intervals of time, 
 
 333 
 
334 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 do not overtake each other. As soon as I arrived 
 at the next stopping-place, Laddie was travelling 
 townward again on a fresh pursuit. I forget how 
 long the game lasted. Its continuance was not 
 conducive to that placid praiseful frame of mind 
 that should accompany the drawing out of a 
 Sabbath afternoon. 
 
 Taking him on week-end visits to the country, 
 he developed a fresh gift. I do not know whether 
 in his native Newcastle-on-Tyne, he had ever seen 
 a sheep. In the country he discerned one at an 
 incredible distance, and was off ventre d terre 
 in instant pursuit. Farmers and dairymen have 
 a prejudice against this sort of thing. I got into 
 such constant trouble that, taking it and the trams 
 together, it was with feelings of modified regret 
 that. Laddie's life early closing, we buried him 
 under an apple tree in the back garden. 
 
 Then came a Scotch collie of bigger, lustier 
 breed. His handsome black-and-white skin, 
 touched on the fore paws and the lower part of 
 the face with golden brown, hangs over a chair in 
 the room where I write. His weakness was for 
 rabbits. Nosing one, or seeing a white fluff bobbing 
 in a thicket, he was off like an arrow from a bow, 
 his hapless master or mistress seeing nothing of 
 him till he had got the business thoroughly out 
 of hand. It was, as I discovered after a two- 
 hours patient vigU, no use waiting in the hope 
 that he would come back on his tracks. Fortu- 
 nately he had a wonderful sense of locality, never 
 
OUE DOGS 335 
 
 failing to turn up some time in the course of the 
 afternoon or evening exceedingly thirsty. He 
 dwelt in a kennel by the kitchen door, and had 
 a disengaging habit when loosed to be taken for 
 a walk of bounding over the lawn and flower beds, 
 dragging a long iron chain that cut off the choicest 
 blooms. Of all our dogs he was the least alluring. 
 When he went on his last rabbit hunt we decided 
 we would have no more big dogs. 
 
 Our next friend was a white terrier, interesting 
 chiefly by reason of the personality of his breeder. 
 He was Mr. Howell, sometime secretary to Kuskin, 
 a man well known in artistic circles thirty years 
 ago. I made his acquaintance at the table of 
 Henry Doetsch, of Eio Tinto mine fame, of whom 
 I have written in connection with Fred Burnaby. 
 Doetsch had a great ambition to found a picture 
 gallery in which there should be nothing but gems 
 wrought by the hands of the Old Masters. Howell 
 was the very man for him. He had an almost 
 preternatural gift of happening upon unrecognised 
 or forgotten pictures by Eaffael, Rubens, Murillo, 
 Eembrandt, and the like. He brought the news 
 to Doetsch, who straightway drew a cheque for 
 the amount demanded — astonishingly reasonable 
 as compared with the current market price of the 
 master's work. 
 
 One night, Du Maurier was dining at New 
 Burlington Street, and having done justice to a 
 bottle of claret from Doetsch's cellar of rare wines 
 (there was no mistake about these), hinted doubt 
 
336 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 as to the authenticity of the masterpieces. Never 
 again did he sit at Doetsch's table. But he lived 
 long enough to learn the result of the sale at 
 Christie's of the treasured collection. Picture after 
 picture was knocked down at prices little exceeding 
 the cost of the frame. 
 
 Howell was a wonderful man, cultured in art 
 and literature. He had travelled far, and was 
 conversant with most European languages. He 
 did me the honour of always arranging to sit next 
 to me at Doetsch's frequent dinners. I was 
 fascinated by his strange personality and his 
 brilliant talk. He once confided to me a secret 
 not elsewhere known, I think, among his London 
 acquaintances. He was a widower with one 
 daughter, who dwelt in a cottage some twenty 
 miles out of London. Every week he quitted the 
 gaieties and attractions of town to spend Saturday 
 to Monday with her. Incidentally he nurtured 
 a breed of terriers. It was one of these he pressed 
 on my acceptance, bringing it down in his arms 
 to Charing Cross Station to see us off to Hythe. 
 
 I regret to say the dog displayed more of the 
 unreliability of his breeder's business life than of 
 the simplicity and integrity of the sylvan home 
 in the country. He early displayed an ineradicable 
 roving habit. A man who lived up Lympne 
 way battened upon me for weeks by winning 
 rewards for finding Toto and bringing him home. 
 Early one morning, after two days' absence, 
 Toto brought himself home covered with paste, 
 
OTJE DOGS 337 
 
 apparently acquired by immersion in a bill-sticker's 
 bucket. This led to a coolness between us, and 
 when next he was " found " in the neighbourhood 
 of Lympne and brought home with expectancy on 
 the part of his escort of another half-crown, I 
 declined to take him in. 
 
 After this we went back to the collie. My 
 sister, visiting in Scotland, tempted a shepherd 
 by proffer of a five-pound note to part with his 
 dog. On his arrival, Glen instantly established 
 himself in the affections of the family, and when, 
 after a fortnight's separation, the shepherd wrote 
 profi"ering return of the banknote and asking for 
 his dog again, he was gently but firmly rebuffed. 
 Glen was as good as he was handsome, in 
 this case the superlative form of assertion. He 
 had no vices, and indulged in only one escapade. 
 This happened on the morning after his arrival at 
 his country quarters. In the front window of the 
 dining-room is a large sheet of plate glass, looking 
 on to the lawn and the sea beyond. Where Glen 
 had hitherto lived plate glass was unknown. He 
 thought he was faced by the ambient air, and, 
 bored with unwonted confinement, he jumped 
 clean through the glass, in some miraculous way 
 escaping hurt. Observing some sheep in a neigh- 
 bouring field, he gently but effectually shepherded 
 them, trotting home afterwards with the satisfac- 
 tion a Scotch dog feels at having gone through a 
 satisfactory Sunday morning service. Glen died 
 whilst we were in the "West Indies. His grave is 
 
 Z 
 
338 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 in the orchard, and his memory is kept as green as 
 the grass that covers it. 
 
 Glen lived long enough to make the acquaint- 
 ance of Toots, a privilege highly prized. Her 
 family stock is planted in Pomerania, she being 
 of the breed commonly known as Spitz. She was 
 a present from Sir Donald Macfarlane, sometime 
 Member for Carlow. He kept a kennel of the 
 dogs, but unfortunately did not keep them in the 
 kennel. They ran about wherever their master 
 might be, untrained and absolutely unrestrained. 
 My pleasure in yachting with Sir Donald, whether 
 on the Mediterranean or the west coast of Scotland, 
 was modified by the circumstance that every 
 morning as I crossed the deck to the bathroom, 
 I had half a dozen dogs yelping at my heels. In 
 the narrower accommodation of a town dining- 
 room the nuisance was aggravated. The dogs 
 cultivated a pleasing habit of lying under the 
 table whilst the meal was in progress and chewing 
 the ends of any especially choice shoes that might 
 be about. When they grew quite unbearable, 
 Macfarlane produced a carter's whip with which 
 he upbraided them. As this was not without 
 danger to the lookers-on, we preferred to suffer 
 the dogs uncomplainingly. 
 
 Toots was a town dog, whilst Glen remained on 
 guard in country quarters. It was pretty to see 
 his bearing towards her when her ladyship went 
 down to take the air at the week end. Whene'er 
 she took her walks abroad, her feminine charms 
 
OUE DOGS 339 
 
 attracted a string of admirers. Glen did not mind 
 that. But if any dog presumed to approach Toots 
 within touch, he bounded on to the scene, edging 
 himself in between the intruder and the young 
 lady committed to his charge. He didn't want 
 to fight ; but by Jingo if he did ! He stood there 
 with head half turned aside as if it was of no con- 
 sequence, but a flashing eye was kept on the 
 intruder, who usually found it expedient to trot off 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Toots dwelt with us for fourteen years — a long 
 life for a dog, especially for one burdened with 
 the cares of her own household and the supervision 
 of the immediate neighbourhood of a town and 
 country residence. The first time I was attracted 
 by her strong individuality was on a Sunday 
 morning shortly after her arrival on the scene. 
 Her mistress had gone to church. I, with a guest, 
 set forth to walk round by the sea to pick up a 
 newspaper at the railway junction. Having walked 
 at speed for more than five minutes, I chanced to 
 look round, and, behold, there was a fluffy little 
 black thing, the size of a mole, pegging along. 
 It was Toots. Finding every one had gone out, 
 she concluded it was the proper thing to do, and 
 followed me, briskly bustling along the full three- 
 mile round. 
 
 She was then six weeks old. In later years, 
 including her last trot round, she regularly made 
 this Sabbath pilgrimage. As a rule she treated me 
 with polite but obvious sufferance. Her affection^ 
 
340 SIXTY YEABS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 passionate in its warmth, unfailing in faithful- 
 ness, was centred on her mistress, I seemed 
 to be settled down in the house, and had to be 
 put up with. On Sunday morning circumstances 
 (as they do sometimes) altered the case. From 
 our earliest greeting Toots lavished friendly atten- 
 tion on me. K after breakfast I walked upstairs, 
 she was at my heels. If I lingered in the dressing- 
 room, she looked in from time to time to see how 
 I was getting on. 
 
 How through the diurnal revolution of the earth 
 did the dog know that Sunday had again come 
 round, and with it the prospect of a walk by the 
 sea through the wood to Sandling Junction ? A 
 similar instinct was displayed on Saturdays. 
 Generally we week-ended in our cottage by the 
 sea, but occasionally went on a visit farther afield. 
 By a simple process of observation and deduction 
 Toots infallibly knew the settled plan for a current 
 Saturday. If there were simple packing of hand- 
 bags and wraps, she knew we were going home 
 and that she would accompany us. Accordingly 
 she sat content, on guard in the haU by way of 
 precaution against being overlooked in the hurry 
 of departure. If the packing were on larger scale, 
 travelling-trunks being brought into requisition 
 for a Saturday-to-Monday or longer visit, she 
 knew her fate. Tears fiUed her big dark eyes as 
 she watched the process. She neither complained 
 nor remonstrated, resigned to a fate acknowledged 
 to be unconquerable. 
 
OUE DOGS 341 
 
 Another even more remarkable evidence of 
 prescience was of daily occurrence. Putting my 
 foot in the lift at Ashley Gardens on returning 
 home after a few hours' absence, I heard Toots's 
 shrill bark welcome me from the hall five stories 
 nearer heaven. Lying on the sofa in the dining- 
 room, she leaped up when the lift began to move 
 with me in it, rushed to the door, out into the 
 hall, barking furiously. There would be nothing 
 strange in this if it happened whenever the lift 
 sounded its approach. Probably during my 
 absence the lift would have run up and down half 
 a hundred times without evoking movement or 
 sound from her. She never failed to recognise my 
 arrival on the level of the passage five stories 
 down. The sense of smell is peculiarly acute 
 with dogs, of common use in assisting them to 
 recognise friends. It seemed impossible in the 
 circumstances here described that Toots was so 
 assisted. 
 
 Toots was .not free from the infirmity that 
 handicaps her race. She was unfailing in the 
 habit of greeting visitors with shrill, angry inces- 
 sant bark. We minimised this nuisance by an act 
 of guUe. When visitors were expected Toots was 
 relegated to a distant room. The company com- 
 plete, she was permitted to enter, which she did 
 in reposeful manner that left nothing to be desired. 
 Thank Heaven, she had no responsibility in the 
 matter. If, on the dispersal of the company, an 
 umbrella was not, or spoons were missing, the 
 
342 SIXTY YEABS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 blame lay with those who had allowed these people 
 to enter without protest. 
 
 Antipathy, early displayed, was directed to- 
 wards the regulations of the Army and Navy 
 Stores that dogs must be left outside in charge 
 of a stout official. Accompanying her mistress 
 on a morning visit to the Stores, Toots, emerging 
 on Victoria Street, always pressed on the lead to 
 get to the other side of the road, remote from the 
 hated steps. One day, it being wet, her mistress, 
 wrapping her up in a light shawl, ventured to 
 carry her through the various departments in the 
 Stores where shopping was done. This was a 
 peculiarly dangerous experiment, since Toots had 
 little faith in strange men, or women either, and 
 was prompt to express suspicion by a sharp, shrill 
 bark. The circumstances were, however, explained 
 to her, it being made clear that if discovery followed 
 she would thereafter always have to be left on the 
 steps in custody of the stout gentlemen in blue 
 coat and brass buttons. A compromise was effected 
 whereby, the shawl being partly left open, Toots, 
 herself unseen, might from its recesses note every- 
 thing that was going on. That done, she was 
 content, remaining mum as a mouse. On later 
 visits, on coming within sight of the Stores, she 
 stopped, pulled at her mistress's gown, looking up 
 with mute demand to be taken up and hidden 
 away. At the Auxiliary Stores, close by, the rule 
 about dogs is not so severe. A constant visitor. 
 Toots was known and petted by the assistants. 
 
OUE DOGS 343 
 
 male and female. Approaching tlie Auxiliary- 
 Stores she never waited to be hidden away, bound- 
 ing up the steps. But she knew that, whilst not 
 necessarily hidden in a wrap, she must be carried 
 in her mistress's arms ; she ever waited on the 
 top steps to be taken up. 
 
 To her last day Toots preserved a grateful re- 
 membrance of the Duke of Argyll — a regard, I have 
 reason to know, cordially returned. It happened 
 on a day that his grace was to have formed one 
 of a luncheon party at Ashley Gardens which, all 
 told, should have numbered fourteen. At the last 
 moment, detained by public business, he found him- 
 self unable to keep the engagement. Awaiting 
 receipt of a telegram notifying the calamity, there 
 was his empty chair. A lady novelist,* the phe- 
 nomenal circulation of whose books might have been 
 counted on to deliver her from the frailty, was 
 painfully moved at the prospect of being seated at a 
 meal one of thirteen. The situation was awkward, 
 since luncheon was actually being served and there 
 was no time to engage a man from Blankley's. A 
 happy thought occurred to the hostess. Toots was 
 sent for, installed in the empty chair, and with ex- 
 treme appreciation took her share of successive 
 courses. There was fourteen at table and all was well. 
 
 To-day Toots sleeps under a daisied sod close 
 
 by a rose-bed at which in times past she. of ten sat 
 
 wondering what her mistress, pottering round the 
 
 trees, pruning scissors in hand, was wasting her 
 
 * Miss Marie Corelli. 
 
344 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 time about. Her face is turned towards the 
 sunlight and the sea — 
 
 " Her part in all the pomp that fills, 
 The circuit of the summer hills 
 Is thais her grave is green." 
 
 With due variation, Pippin resembled Tom 
 Bowling, inasmuch as his form was of the manliest 
 beauty. Perfect in shape, with bright, intelligent 
 face, and a long-haired coat of silkiest black, he 
 was a delight to the eye. He came after the 
 death of Toots, and was intended to console her 
 mistress under what seemed irreparable loss. Two 
 ladies, moved by the same kind impulse, almost 
 simultaneously sent a successor. One was a 
 Pekinese, bought at a fabulous price from its noble 
 breeder. Pip, like Toots, was a Pomeranian, and 
 coming first, where there was room only for one, 
 made it necessary to return the gift of the gracious 
 lady who proffered the Chinaman. 
 
 Of princely lineage, Pip was an aristocrat from 
 his glossy head to the nails of his tufted toes. 
 His notions on the question of territorial privileges 
 were extreme. He denied the right of any one 
 outside the household to walk up or down the 
 public lane leading to the garden gate. A sudden 
 rush, a fierce bark reminded intruders of their 
 indiscretion. Things were worse inside the garden. 
 Small boys passing speedily discovered the delight 
 of rapping at the fence, with the certainty of 
 bringing Pip raging in remonstrance. They 
 
OUR DOGS 345 
 
 playfully broke off the lower part of one of the 
 staves of the fence. This suited Pip literally down 
 to the ground. He would sit by the hour at the 
 aperture with ears cocked up waiting for some one 
 to pass on the other side, startling them with 
 sudden outburst of angry barking. Even more 
 hotly resented was the liberty taken by the 
 tradesmen's carts passing along the roadway at 
 the top of the orchard. At distant sound of their 
 approach, Pip was on the alert. Some dogs of 
 less intelligence would have run forward to meet 
 them. Pip knew better. He set off by short 
 cut in the direction they travelled, and before they 
 had overtaken and passed him, he had enjoyed a 
 long bout of remonstrance. 
 
 A charming companion, brimming over with 
 fun and mischief, gaily glad he was alive, Pip's 
 career was early cut short. Before he passed 
 his second birthday, he caught distemper and died. 
 His grave is only a few paces off that in which 
 Toots sleeps, both in full view of Glen's last home. 
 
 " They say the lion and the lizard keep 
 The courts where Jamshyd gloried and drank 
 deep; 
 And Bahram, that great hunter — the wild 
 ass, 
 Stamps o'er his head, and he lies fast asleep." 
 
 So, through the summer and winter days the 
 carts rattle past the fence within sound of Pip's 
 resting-place, and he lies silent and still. 
 
XXXR^ 
 
 THE OBSERVER AND THE STRAND MAGAZINE 
 
 Looking back on the period of my slavery on 
 'May fair I have vivid recollection of walking 
 along the Strand to catch a humble 'bus at Charing 
 Cross and seeing the Saturday night crowds hang- 
 ing round the theatre doors in anticipation of a 
 pleasant evening. There was some feeling of envy 
 at the varied circumstance between theatre-goers 
 and myself. But I do not remember ever asking 
 myself whether life was worth living in the groove 
 I had voluntarily chosen. There it was. I had 
 undertaken a task and I just went on with it, 
 plodding away through two long years, working 
 like a galley slave, not earning money, steadily, 
 uninterruptedly losing it. Dear Joe Cowen never 
 by sign or word made my lot harder by complaint. 
 When fresh cheques were wanted to pay the 
 printer or the literary staff his share was promptly 
 forthcoming. 
 
 On the whole I do not regret that I went 
 through this particular mill. It was excellent 
 discipline, though I admit, if the boon were offered 
 me again, I should be so unselfish as to desire that 
 another should profit by the opportunity. 
 
 346 
 
THE OBSERVER AND STRAND MAGAZINE 347 
 
 Mayfair certainly advanced my professional 
 position. The public would not have it, even 
 though I allured them by the then novel attraction 
 of pen-and-ink sketches illustrating the text. But 
 it was sought at the clubs and was much in favour 
 in editorial rooms in the country. 
 
 In 1880 Edward Dicey, then editor of the 
 Sunday Observer, came to me with the proposal 
 to write a Parliamentary article for his paper. 
 This meant sacrifice of Saturday mornings, only 
 two years earlier rescued from the cruel clutch of 
 Mayfair. I bargained for full freedom of judg- 
 ment and perfect liberty of speech, conditions 
 granted and honourably observed. For the space 
 of twenty-nine years, save the interlude of my 
 editorship of the Daily News, the "Cross Bench" 
 article has been a familiar feature in the Observer, 
 and has never been touched by the editorial pen. 
 It was necessarily discontinued during my editor- 
 ship of the Daily News. As in the case of my 
 London Daily Letter, the writer was warmly 
 welcomed back to his old quarters when the 
 fetters of Bouverie Street were loosed. 
 
 One article in the long series described a 
 memorable scene in the House of Commons. On 
 April 8, 1892, Mr. Gladstone, following Mr. 
 Chamberlain in debate, without note of prepara- 
 tion, fell upon his former colleague and belaboured 
 him with efiect the greater since the reprisal was 
 free from the slightest display of brutal force. It 
 was all rapier work. Description of the scene 
 
348 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 brought me one of the characteristic postcards 
 begun at the very top, not necessarily with intent 
 of filling up the space, but with careful provision 
 of room if necessary. It is dated 1, Carlton 
 Gardens, Agril 12, 1892, and runs thus: "One 
 word of thanks, however hasty, for the brilliant 
 article. It has but one fault, that of excess with 
 reference to the merits of the principal subject 
 of it. — W. E. Gladstone." 
 
 In the Session of 1890 I was a guest at one of 
 the many Parliamentary dinner-parties at which 
 Scale Hayne hospitably provided opportunity for 
 seeing his wonderful collection of Old Masters and 
 tasting his excellent port. Later, on the forma- 
 tion of his fourth Administration, Mr. Gladstone, 
 mindful of certain hospitalities provided by Seale 
 Hayne in his Devonshire quarters, made him Pay- 
 master-General, a Ministerial office distinguished by 
 the fact that whilst it implies lavish distribution of 
 money the incumbent himself receives no salary. 
 Seale Hayne chiefly, if not exclusively, dis- 
 tinguished himself in office by a little incident 
 happening outside Downing Street. During his 
 brief term of Premiership Lord Eosebery revived 
 the Greenwich dinner, intermitted under the 
 austere rule of Mr. Gladstone. It was held at 
 the close of the Session and was marked by the 
 ebullition of spirits that accompanies the "break 
 up " of other schools. On the withdrawal of the 
 cloth Seale Hayne, known to possess a fine baritone 
 voice, was invited to contribute a song to the 
 
THE OBSERVER AND STRAND MAGAZINE 349 
 
 harmony of the evening. Blushing he consented, 
 and trolled forth " Down among the dead men." 
 
 The appropriateness of the ditty, questioned at 
 first, on reflection became recognised. The Minis- 
 try, though not actually deceased, was hopelessly 
 moribund. Before the following Session (1895) 
 had sped half way the Paymaster-General and 
 his colleagues were — as far as office was concerned 
 — like the host of Sennacherib encamped before 
 Jerusalem, " all dead corpses." 
 
 At Scale Hayne's table on this particular night 
 I chanced to sit by Mr. George Newnes, his 
 baronetcy still afar off. He was then known 
 chiefly as the proprietor of a weekly paper called 
 Tit Bits, which, hitting the public fancy, proved 
 an immediate success. He was full of a project 
 for the starting of a new monthly magazine, to 
 cost sixpence and be worth at least a shUling. 
 He intimated a desire that when the new venture 
 was started I should join the staff, contributing 
 through the Session a Parliamentary article. I 
 did not think anything more of the matter, not 
 being, to tell the truth, attracted to the opening 
 offered by a new enterprise when my hands were 
 full of work for established papers, daily, weekly, 
 and monthly. When the first issue of the Strand 
 Magazine appeared and met with instant welcome 
 from an appreciative public Newnes approached 
 me with definite invitation to join the staff. In 
 addition to the prejudice hinted at there was 
 peculiar difficulty in fashioning the work. A 
 
350 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 daily, even weekly, paper is at sufficiently close 
 range to keep toucli with the current sittings of 
 Parliament. Articles for the new magazine must 
 be in the printer's hands at least four weeks before 
 publication. (As the sale of the magazine went 
 up by leaps and bounds it became necessary for 
 my copy to be ready two months in advance.) 
 
 This condition of affairs made the project seem 
 impracticable. Newnes, however, was not the 
 man to have his plans frustrated by a negative. 
 As he continued to press the proposal I invited 
 him to lunch quietly with me at Ashley Gardens 
 and talk the matter over. I had resolved to get 
 out of the difficulty by demanding for the article 
 what I thought would be a prohibitive price. I was 
 so won over by Newnes's cheery confidence that 
 we parted with the understanding that he was to 
 make a definite offer for the series. When it 
 reached me I found the proffered fee something 
 in excess of what I had conceived to be a prohibitive 
 price. 
 
 " From Behind the Speaker's Chair " established 
 a record unique in magazine serials. Session after 
 Session it ran uninterruptedly through ten years. 
 With the exception of the Diary of Toby, M.P., 
 in Punch, the articles brought me more friendly 
 personal communications from unknown corre- 
 spondents far and near than anything I ever 
 wrote. The circulation of the Strand, enormous 
 at home, extended to all parts of the world where 
 the English race were settled. Going out to the 
 
THE OBSERVER AND STRAND MAGAZINE 351 
 
 Cape in 1894, the day of departure happened to 
 coincide with the publication of the monthly 
 number of the Strand. On the bookstall at 
 Waterloo Station a heap was piled. Every other 
 person in the special train was possessed of a copy. 
 Among the ship's cargo was a bale of the magazine, 
 and on the day after arrival I saw on the railway 
 bookstall at Cape Town a pile nearly as high as the 
 Waterloo Station consignment, diminishing with 
 equal rapidity. 
 
 Shortly after arriving at Yokohama on a visit to 
 Japan there entered my room a Japanese carrying 
 under his arm a bulky volume. With many bows 
 and much indrawing of the breath, indicative of 
 profound humility in the presence of immeasurable 
 superiority, the morning caller informed me that 
 he was the editor and proprietor of a local Punch. 
 Since copies were reproduced by a process akin 
 to that of the ordinary oflS.ce letter-book, the circu- 
 lation must have been limited. The letterpress 
 was adorned with abundant illustrations, some 
 really comic. The volume he desired to lay at 
 my feet, an offering from Japanese humorists to 
 the unworthy representative of the Sage of Bouverie 
 Street, London, was a bound copy of a year's 
 weekly issue. 
 
 A parallel case affecting the Strand Magazine 
 happened during a later visit to the West Indies. 
 Through the Post Office at Grenada I received 
 from a correspondent in one of the smaller islands, 
 the name of which I had never before heard, a 
 
352 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 sketch of the history of Grenada with a useful 
 map. A letter accompanying the book explained 
 that it was meant as a slight acknowledgment of 
 the pleasure, spread over many years, derived 
 from reading the Parliamentary sketches in the 
 Strand Magazine. 
 
 When at the end of 1902 the series was dis- 
 continued a selection was issued in book form 
 under the title " Peeps at Parliament." Its 
 reception was so encouraging that two years later 
 it was followed by "Later Peeps at Parliament." 
 Both volumes were enriched by reproduction of 
 the multitudinous sketches by F.C.G., to whose 
 appearance in the magazine the popularity of the 
 series was largely due. 
 
XXXV 
 
 ON PUNCH STAFF 
 
 The stages of my professional career may be traced 
 as definitely and stated as tersely as was the iden- 
 tification of successive additions to the House that 
 Jack built. " Men and Manner in Parliament," 
 appearing in the Gentleman's Magazine through 
 the Session of 1874, attracting the attention of 
 Edmund Yates, led to my engagement on the 
 World. The "Under the Clock" articles in the 
 World suggested to Edward Dicey the idea of 
 having something like them in the Observer. On 
 resigning the editorship in 1889, Dicey wrote : 
 " It will always be a source of pride to me to have 
 published the ' Cross Bench ' articles in the 
 Observer." 
 
 The " Cross Bench " series, diligently read by 
 Frank Burnand, induced him, as one of his first 
 acts of authority when he became editor of Punch, 
 to invite me to take up the work commenced by 
 Shirley Brooks, just relinquished by Tom Taylor. 
 Here is Burnand's first letter — 
 
 " London, S^temher 11, 1880. 
 " The ' Cross Benches ' are excellent. I have 
 watched them carefully. When you have five 
 
 353 2 A 
 
354 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 minutes to spare (not this week) I should like to 
 have a chat if you will call in on me at 10, Bouverie 
 Street, any Thursday (from 11 to 4)." 
 
 I was still Writing the " Cross Bench " article 
 in the Observer, and the difficulty of carrying on 
 through successive weeks two commentaries on 
 Parliamentary affairs that should be absolutely 
 distinct in style and treatment seemed insuperable. 
 That they were to run concurrently with " Pictures 
 in Parliament," a prominent feature in the Daily 
 News, was not embarrassing. That was a chronicle 
 of current events ; the others were free commen- 
 taries upon them. 
 
 Undismayed I undertook the new task. It 
 happened that on the threshold it came near to 
 being abandoned. " Essence of Parliament " was 
 the title invented by Shirley Brooks when he com- 
 menced the new chapter in Punch. It was adopted 
 by Tom Taylor when he succeeded to the editor- 
 ship. Burnand proposed that it should be pre- 
 served. I confess I did not admire it per se. 
 Moreover, intending to do the work in quite a 
 different style from that necessarily adopted by 
 Tom Taylor, who knew no more about Parliament 
 than he gathered from the Times report, I wanted 
 to get in a note of individuality. The possibility 
 of this I found in the dog Toby on the peerless 
 title-page, Mr. Punch's faithful but voiceless com- 
 panion. To get Toby elected to the House of 
 Commons, thence describing scenes he had actually 
 
ON PUNCH STAPP 353 
 
 witnessed, commenting on speeches he had heard, 
 was the idea I had in my mind. This I commu- 
 nicated to F. C. B., who replied — 
 
 " Whitefriaes, London, Decemler 15, 1880. 
 
 " Dear Sie, — ^Ha;ve decided that no better title 
 can be found than the old one which all are accus- 
 tomed to in Punch — ' Essence of Parliament.' 
 Now the question is Shall Toby go there as M.P., 
 or as reporter to collect essence? Just turn this 
 over. Sambourne has taken instructions for his 
 picture of interviewing Toby as M.P. 
 
 " However, let me know your views. 
 
 " ' Essence ' is settled. 
 
 " Qy., is Toby to go as M.P. (a pity to lose this) ? 
 But if so, in Preface we must say that he comes 
 back every evening to ' report progress ' to Mr. 
 Punch, who returns him. " 
 
 Burnand thus insisting on retaining the old 
 title, I wrote — 
 
 " 158, Beixton Eoad, S.W., 
 " Wednesday night, December 15, 1880. 
 
 " My dear Sir, — I very much regret the deter- 
 mination announced in your letter of this morning 
 with respect to retaining the old title of the Par- 
 liamentary sketch in Punch. To tell the simple 
 truth, it is one I could not write under. It would 
 weigh me down like a tombstone. 
 
 " In the first place, it is not mine, nor yours, nor 
 even Punch's. In the second place, it was, I think, 
 
356 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 an unfortunately stiff and pedantic title — smelling 
 of the druggist's shop — which only the ability of 
 Mr. Shirley Brooks made passable. Finally, while 
 it moderately well suited the style of the day when 
 he started the series it would be hopelessly heavy 
 and commonplace now. Then a Parliamentary 
 summary, or 'Essence of Parliament,' was a new 
 thing. Now every daily paper has one, and Punch 
 coming out once a week is from seven to ten days 
 behind the fair. When you come to try and work 
 the thing out, as is partly done in your note, see 
 where we are landed. Fancy Toby going as a 
 reporter to the House of Commons to collect 
 ' Essence ' ! 
 
 " I should be exceedingly sorry to abandon on 
 the threshold an enterprise in which the more I 
 have thought of it during the past two months 
 the more clearly I see an opportunity of making a 
 great hit ; but I should be doing myself an injustice 
 and saddling you with a failure if I were to attempt 
 to work on the lines suggested in your note to 
 hand to-night." 
 
 '■^ From F. C. Burnand, 10, Bouverie St., to 
 H. W. Lucy. 
 
 " December 16, 1880. 
 " The difficulty will disappear : it may look a 
 mountain but 'tis a molehill. The proprietors have 
 such a very strong feeling on the subject of re- 
 taining the title * Essence ' merely as a heading 
 that I am not prepared to fight for a small matter. 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 357 
 
 And I do not think it will hamper you. At least 
 it mustn't. Don't you bother your head about 
 that ; just settle it in your own way, and if B and 
 A insist on the title being retained (they putting 
 a certain proprietary value on it) I shall retain it, 
 hut I shall take precious good care to explain in my 
 Preface that the title only is retained and not the 
 thing. The new wine in the old bottle, and the 
 sooner the bottle bursts the better. Don't let it 
 alter your notion in the least." 
 
 " Whitefeiaks, London : December 17, 1880. 
 
 "Dear Sie, — I should like to see you for a 
 few moments here next Tuesday if convenient. 
 It's all right. Dismiss the idea of Essence and 
 being weighed down. We shall make a great hit 
 of it. 
 
 "F. C. B." 
 
 The controversy was happily closed by adoption 
 of a compromise whereby for twenty-nine years 
 the title has run " Essence of Parliament, Ex- 
 tracted from the Diary of Toby, M.P." When the 
 first article appeared, Burnand, then and always 
 generous of praise, wrote : " The ' go ' of it is 
 capital : the descriptions Al. Success ! It's a 
 very good beginning." 
 
 In course of time another character appeared 
 on the stage. This was the Member for Sark, a 
 personage who involved me in constant corre- 
 spondence. Sir Frank Lockwood told me that one 
 
358 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 time, visiting the island of Sark, he was approached 
 by an aged inhabitant with a copy of the Pall 
 Mall Gazette Parliamentary Guide, published after 
 the election of the 1885 Parliament. It contained 
 portraits and biographies of all the members. The 
 owner, learning that the Solicitor-General was in 
 the island, thought here was opportunity of 
 solving a difficulty long troubling him, and identi- 
 fying the Member for Sark. 
 
 That was probably one of Lockwood's many 
 inventions. Certainly the inquiries addressed to 
 me at Punch Office grew so persistent that, in 
 order to save time and trouble, I drafted a circular 
 reply, and had it typewritten. "Toby, M.P., 
 
 presents his compliments to , and regrets to 
 
 state that the identity of the Member for Sark being 
 not entirely his own secret he is not at liberty 
 to disclose it." The circular went in the ordinary 
 course to a correspondent in far-off British Columbia. 
 It brought the following shrewd rejoinder : 
 
 " 84, EoDBTH Steebt, Victokia, B.C. : September 26, '02. 
 
 "Mrs. Brocklehurst presents her compliments 
 to Toby, M.P., and thanks him for his very polite 
 answer to her query re The Member for Sark. A 
 new light has dawned on her, and she thinks that 
 the Member for Sark exists only in Toby, M.P.'s 
 imagination, or, in the words of Betsy Prig, she 
 ' don't believe there is no such person.' She hopes, 
 however, that he wUl long continue to enliven the 
 ' Essence of Parliament.' " 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 359 
 
 In October, 1908, the Hon. Secretary of the 
 London Channel Islanders' Society wrote : " I am 
 directed by my committee to ask you to honour 
 us by becoming a Vice-President. As the Member 
 for Sark we shall appreciate the honour very much." 
 
 To " Essence of Parliament " during part of the 
 time of Shirley Brooks, through the full length of 
 the editorship of Tom Taylor, Linley Sambourne 
 contributed the adornment of beautiful initial 
 letters, with occasional illustration on a larger 
 scale. Burnand proposed that this arrangement 
 should continue. I was delighted with the prospect 
 if it were arranged that Sambourne should be on 
 the spot and draw from life. That proved im- 
 practicable, to the loss of the House of Commons 
 and the world generally. I had noticed in Punch 
 from time to time sketches by an outsider, signed 
 Hy. Furniss. Their humour suggested the very 
 man for collaboration in the new departure con- 
 templated on the Parliamentary page. Burnand, 
 acceding to the suggestion, appointed Furniss to 
 illustrate the Diary, making his drawings from the 
 Lobby of the House of Commons or the Press 
 Gallery. Furniss entered upon the task con amore 
 and speedily made a hit, his work contributing 
 greatly to the success of the new enterprise. 
 When in 1894 he resigned his position on the staff, 
 proposing to do something " on his own," he was 
 succeeded by E. T. Eeed, who in quite another 
 style of work brilliantly succeeded in maintaining 
 the artistic interest of the Parliamentary record. 
 
360 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 It was one of Phil May's dearest wishes to 
 illustrate the Diary. With time and opportunity, 
 he would have found in the two Houses of 
 Parliament a rare field for his supreme genius. It 
 happened in the early part of the Session of 1902, 
 Eeed being temporarily incapacitated by illness, I 
 took PhU May down to the House, lent him my 
 box in the Gallery, conducted him to the Lobby, 
 and pointed out the celebrities. He drew several 
 sketches, which duly appeared, notably, one of 
 Mr. Chamberlain, seated on the Treasury Bench. 
 They had all the charm of his marvellous art. But 
 he was a little uncertain. After hunting aU over 
 the place for him one night I came back to the 
 Gallery to find on my desk the following note : — 
 
 " My dear Lucy, — Sorry I missed you. Just 
 went upstairs for a few minutes. I am coming 
 again to-morrow to lunch here. I think I can get 
 better stuff by just wandering about, than from 
 the Gallery, as my eyes are not very strong. I 
 have two studies up to now — Lowther and Cham- 
 berlain. 
 
 "I wonder if it would be possible to get a 
 Lobby ticket ? It would make things easier, if 
 this can be arranged, and you would not mind the 
 trouble. I would be awfully pleased if it could be 
 sent to me at the Devonshire Club. 
 " Sorry, must run off, 
 " Thine, 
 
 "Phil May." 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 361 
 
 That was the worst, the only bad, thing about 
 dear Phil. He was always "just going upstairs," 
 or " round the corner for a few minutes." I got 
 him into the Lobby one night with intent to draw 
 a sketch of Lord Hugh Cecil, at the time much to 
 the fore. By good luck we found him talking to 
 another Member, an estimable but somewhat 
 podgy-figured person, with rubicund countenance 
 and abundant hair. I pointed out to May the 
 tall, slight, stooping figure of Lord Hugh with his 
 intellectual face. 
 
 " There's your man, Phil," I said, " you have 
 a splendid chance." 
 
 In order not to distract his attention, I left 
 him making mental notes of his subject, sketch 
 books in the hands of artists being forbidden in 
 the Lobby of the House of Commons. I did not 
 see the result of his work till Punch came out the 
 following week, when I discovered that, in the 
 excitement of the moment, probably due to 
 ambiguity in my direction, Phil had got hold of 
 the wrong man, and the podgy person was pre- 
 sented, labelled " Lord Hugh Cecil." 
 
 On another occasion Phil, in more happy 
 fashion, mixed up two quite different people. I 
 must premise that his coal-black hair was treated 
 in original fashion. It was plastered close to his 
 head, flat over his forehead. When it wanted 
 cutting a closely -fitting bowl was apparently placed 
 over the crop, and the scissors run sharply under 
 the edge. The result was rather the appearance 
 
362 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 of a smooth black shining cap, tightly fitted to 
 the skull, than the ordinary head of hair. My 
 hair, on the contrary, has a life-long constitutional 
 habit of standing straight up, after the fashion of 
 Mr. Traddle^ One night, leaving the dinner- 
 table in Bouverie Street and passing him by the 
 way, I laid my hand on his head and said, "My 
 dear Phil, why do you do your hair like that ? " 
 
 He turned to regard me with one of his quaint 
 smiles, but said nothing. Next week there ap- 
 peared portrait sketches of Phil May with his hair 
 bristling at all points, and of me, with my rebellious 
 locks plastered down in his peculiar style. The 
 legend ran : First Genius to Second Genius : 
 " Why on earth do you do your hair in that 
 absurd fashion, Smith ? " 
 
 The original drawing was on view at "Mr. 
 Punch's Pageant " in the Leicester Galleries. 
 
 Phil May, in addition to being one of the 
 finest black-and-white artists that have lived and 
 worked since Charles Keene, was one of the most 
 generous men that ever breathed. Whatever was 
 his in the way of property was anybody else's who 
 might chance to pass by and hold out his hand. 
 At his various haunts — the Savage Club, Eomano's, 
 and elsewhere — he became the prey of thirsty 
 idlers. He was always ready to "stand drinks" 
 or ease himself of the costly cigars that on his 
 entrance filled his pockets. It was the same with 
 his work. A sketch by him, however casual, made 
 the paper on which it was drawn as valuable as 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 363 
 
 a banknote. If any one admired it, " Take it, my 
 boy," was his swift response. " My boy " took it 
 with such regularity as to threaten depletion of 
 the artist's portfolio. Mrs. May, a shrewd little 
 lady, formed a business habit that checked, though 
 it never stopped, the practice. After one of his 
 informal evenings at home, at which some who 
 had not been invited frequently turned up, Mrs. 
 May made mental notes of raids on the portfolio. 
 The next morning she either wrote to or called 
 upon the connoisseur with polite request for return 
 of the sketch. 
 
 It happens that of the men who sat round Mr. 
 Punch's old Mahogany Tree on the night I was 
 admitted within the circle, only two are present 
 at the current Wednesday dinners. One is Linley 
 Sambourne, who enjoys the unique distinction of 
 having served under every editor since Punch was 
 founded. Mark Lemon discovered his talent, and 
 Shirley Brooks encouraged it by placing him on 
 the regular staff, where he worked under Tom 
 Taylor, Burnand, and now with Owen Seaman in 
 the editorial chair. The other relic from those 
 distant days is myself. 
 
 In a letter, dated January 11, 1908, Mr. Henry 
 Silver looks further back. " Tenniel and I," he 
 writes, " are now the sole survivors of the weekly 
 dinners there in the brave days of old, before the 
 Indian Mutiny. Keene came in '60, F. C. B. in '63, 
 and Kiki a year later ; on the death of J. Leech, 
 who had been sitting on my right hand, and had 
 
364 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 been very good to me — a vaurien — as indeed had 
 his old schoolfellow, W. M. T., who faced us. I, 
 too, had been at ' Greyfriars.' So of Mr. Punch's 
 two chief pencils, and five pens, no fewer than 
 three were in.the hands of old Carthusians." 
 
 In accordance with Mr. Punch's wary habit, I 
 served a considerable period of probation before 
 I joined the regular staff and weekly sat at meat 
 with them in the old dining-room in Bouverie 
 Street. The first chapter of Toby's Diary 
 appeared in January, 1881. It was not till 
 Wednesday, July 16, 1884, that Harry Furniss 
 and I joined the sacred table. I believe there 
 were in earlier times occasional exceptions to the 
 rule, but I have never seen an outsider at the 
 Punch Dinner-Table, set in a room as closely 
 "tiled" as any Freemason's Lodge. When, in 
 1907, Mark Twain visited England, he was enter- 
 tained at dinner in the room, and at the table on 
 which are cut the initials of all Punch men since 
 the first. But it was an off day, not the Wednesday 
 dinner. 
 
 There were occasions before formal admission 
 to the table, when I was privileged to meet my 
 future colleagues. William Bradbury, partner in 
 the firm of Bradbury, Agnew, the proprietors of 
 Punch, was in charge of the business direction of 
 the paper. Either he or his partner, William 
 Agnew (not yet baroneted), sat in the chair facing 
 the editor, who presided at the Wednesday dinner. 
 Bradbury was never so happy as when he had the 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 365 
 
 staff under his charge, taking them up the river 
 to dine royally at the Mitre, Hampton Court, or 
 driving four-in-hand to some country inn, where 
 we dined and drove home, in the moonlight or the 
 dark. When Burnand succeeded to the editorship, 
 it occurred to William Bradbury to celebrate the 
 occasion by a dinner at the Albion Hotel in the 
 City, a famous hostelry, now, like much else that 
 flourished in those days, passed away. It was a 
 miscellaneous company of some fourscore selected 
 from men distinguished in literature,' journalism, 
 and art. After dinner, we played at doing the 
 cartoon for the following week. Each guest was 
 provided with a sheet of notepaper, pen and ink, 
 and invited to make suggestions. I am afraid 
 none contributed to the cartoon as in due time it 
 appeared. 
 
 Another time, when I, still an outsider, was 
 invited to dine with the staff, the trysting was 
 the Mitre, Hampton Court. Arrived at the 
 railway station, there was only one fly in attend- 
 ance, and that was secured by two prompter 
 passengers. I asked leave to share their convey- 
 ance, and the driver's charges, to which they 
 kindly assented. They, too, it chanced, were 
 bound for the Mitre. On the arrival of the fly, 
 they were surprised to find Burnand approach me 
 with kindly greeting and hearty welcome. Later 
 and for some years I sat between them at the 
 Punch dinner-table, the Professor on the right 
 hand, Gilbert a Beckett on the left. It was at 
 
366 SIXTY YEABS IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 this dinner, served in the Mitre's best room, 
 through whose windows the westering sun shone 
 on a jovial company, that I first made the personal 
 acquaintance of Du Maurier. We became friends 
 at once, and remained so to the last, then happily 
 afar off. 
 
 In addition to the three mentioned, there were 
 present at the table on the occasion of my first 
 meal in Bouverie Street, Charles Keene, Tenniel, 
 Linley Sambourne, MUliken, and Arthur a Beckett, 
 brother of GU, son of one of the earliest and most 
 valued contributors to Punch. 
 
 It was in the autumn of 1891 that GU a 
 Beckett's gentle spirit passed away. Although a 
 confirmed invalid, fighting day and night with 
 a painful disease, he worked on cheerfully to the 
 last, joking and smiling, though he knew Death 
 was at the door. Several weeks before being 
 called away, he contributed to Punch quaint ac- 
 counts of his sojourn at a quiet seaside place,' 
 telling how the ruthless deadly organ-grinder 
 found him out. For the previous year he had 
 not been in constant attendance at the weekly 
 dinner. His last appearance was at the Almanac 
 dinner held on October 3, 1891. As usual a 
 bright, kindly smile lighted up his wasted face, 
 and through his talk flashed lambent humour. 
 
 The end came suddenly. In final delirium his 
 thoughts turned fondly to the comradeship of 
 which, in days when Thackeray also sat at the 
 Table, his father was an honoured member. In 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 367 
 
 his last moments he babbled about the Punch 
 cartoon of the coming week, in the invention and 
 perfecting of which he should have no part. 
 
 It was he who suggested the historic cartoon 
 bearing the legend "Dropping the Pilot," which 
 pictured Bismarck stepping down the gangway 
 from a German man-of-war, the Kaiser looking 
 on from the deck. This was Punch's commentary 
 on the dismissal of the great Chancellor by his 
 headstrong young master. 
 
 Milliken's name was, by comparison with those 
 of some of his colleagues, unfamiliar to the 
 public. Best known as the creator of " 'Arry and 
 'Arriet," he, week after week, contributed admir- 
 able verse on topics of the day. His work was 
 particularly fine when it took the form of eulogy 
 on the mighty dead. He was apt at suggesting 
 the subject, and devising the cartoon for the 
 coming week. Shortly before his death a volume 
 of his selected poems was published in book form. 
 
 "WOODCOTE, 83, LOUGHBOEOUGH PaEK, S.W., 
 
 " November 14, 1892. 
 
 "My dear Lucy, — I received this morning a 
 copy of Saturday's issue of the Liverpool Daily 
 Post. Thank you ! As 'Arry would say, you are 
 a real good sort, and no error ! 
 
 "The article is quite the most appreciative I 
 have seen, and catches precisely my purpose in 
 penning these slangy rhymes, a purpose which 
 some have missed — not unnaturally, perhaps. But 
 
368 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENBSS 
 
 tlie writer of this article has read very carefully, 
 and understood completely. I could -not have 
 ' explained ' 'Axry more clearly myself. In fact, 
 some of its phrases might almost have been 
 borrowed from the Preface I originally wrote, but 
 which, in view of the book degenerating into a 
 cheap shillingsworth, I had considerably to cut 
 down. • A vulgar Hedonist ' hits off 'Arry to the 
 life, and is exactly what I called him myself." 
 
 The Professor's (Percival Leigh) long day was 
 drawing to a close when I came to sit by his side 
 at the Punch table. He still wrote, scarcely a 
 week passing without his sending in an article or 
 a paragraph. With fine courtesy and consideration 
 his manuscript was always set up in type and a 
 proof sent to him. Nothing more came of it. 
 Probably having returned the proof, pains-takingly 
 corrected, he forgot all about it, and began again. 
 Anyhow, Mr. Punch, in his generous, paternal 
 fashion, saw that his weekly salary was duly dis- 
 charged by cheque, and kept a seat for him at the 
 dinner-table. The Professor had Shakespeare at 
 his finger ends, and up to the last occasionally did 
 good service by citation, and appropriate quotation 
 or suggestion of apt title. 
 
 It was difficult for those who knew him only 
 in the quiet eventide of his life to realise how 
 prominent a place he once filled in Mr. Punch's 
 Council. Whenever Shirley Brooks was temporarily 
 withdrawn from editorial service by illness or 
 
ON PCTJVCff STAFF 369 
 
 holiday engagement, lie handed the reins to the 
 Professor. Why he was styled the Professor no 
 one knew any more than why Tenniel was called 
 " Jack Ides," or Du Maurier " Kiki." Probably it 
 had some relation to his early career, when con- 
 temporaneously with Bob Sawyer he walked the 
 hospitals in study of the science of surgery. 
 
 In conversation Charles Keene showed no sign 
 of the humour that delighted mankind in his con- 
 tributions to Punch. He rarely joined in the bright, 
 sometimes rollicking, conversation at the Table. 
 
 Shortly after his death, there was published a 
 selection of his letters. Among them were pas- 
 sages which all unconsciously sketched the quaint, 
 archaic personality, with his love of old clothes, 
 old pipes, old anything, and his hatred of every- 
 thing new, such inevitably savouring of Kadicalism, 
 which, in Keene's eyes, was the deadly sin. 
 
 One of Keene's few recorded contributions to 
 conversation was his enthusiastic cry "Hear, 
 hear ! " when at a small dinner-party a brother 
 fossil enunciated the axiom, " The English people 
 were happier and in better circumstances two 
 hundred years ago than they are now." He 
 honestly believed that, and as far as he could 
 endeavoured to live up to the axiom. It was said 
 by one of his colleagues that for him life would 
 have been endurable only for its new moons. To 
 have a new moon every month was an idle 
 phantasy, a display of the cloven foot of Eadi- 
 calism, a waste of power and material. 
 
 2 B 
 
370 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 During his early career, tlirough many years, 
 he had his studio on the attic floor of an old house 
 in the Strand, a ramshackle place, quitted only 
 when it threatened to tumble down. He was 
 there when he was thirty years younger, and from 
 that period dated, I fancy, the jacket with the 
 leg-of-mutton sleeves in which, when I recall his 
 figure, he always appears. Through a period 
 extending over eight years I never saw him in any 
 other save once, and then, to everybody's surprise, 
 he turned up at an evening party in dinner dress, 
 looking more than usually lugubrious. He got 
 away as soon as he could, and it is easy to imagine 
 the delight with which, when he reached his house 
 in the Hammersmith Eoad, he got out of "the 
 toggery," put on his old jacket, lit his pipe, and 
 growled at Society. Keene had one last surprise 
 for a gossiping world he hated and despised. He 
 died leaving behind him nearly £40,000, scraped 
 together through a self-denying life of hard 
 labour. 
 
 On rare occasions, under strong pressure, he 
 was induced to tell his solitary story. It was all 
 about a Bakewell pudding, and, as far as could be 
 made out, related the ecstasy of some unknown 
 person privileged to taste it in perfected form. 
 There was a long catalogue of the component parts 
 leading up to the exclamation which concluded the 
 narrative, " Ah ! that was a Bakewell pudding I " 
 The fun came in watching Keene's ordinarily grave 
 face as he worked up to the climax, the wrinkles 
 
ON PUNCH STAFE 371 
 
 transformed in the smiles that irradiated his 
 countenance. 
 
 One night he startled and delighted the com- 
 pany by breaking fresh ground. " The other day," 
 he began, "I was walking down Kennington 
 Road." Here there was a pause, and he added, 
 " When I say the other day, I mean forty years 
 ago." This story had something indefinite to do 
 with the outbreak of Chartism, when Louis 
 Napoleon, in lodgings in London, instinctively 
 enrolled himself on the side of law and order, a 
 Special Constable's baton in hand. 
 
 Up to a dozen years ago the business of the 
 weekly dinner was confined to the work of a single 
 cartoon. Du Maurier, whose sketch faced Ten- 
 niel's page, and Linley Sambourne, who regularly 
 contributed his half-page or page, were left to 
 their own devices. Now there are two cartoons, 
 generally political in their subject, each engaging 
 to minutest detail the attention of the staff present. 
 The result is to double the time and labour ex- 
 pended at the dinner. Gentlemen of England, 
 who live at home at ease, and get their Punch at 
 the bookstall on Tuesday night or on Wednesday 
 morning, doubtless believe, if they think about the 
 matter at all, that at some late hour of the 
 previous night the cartoon was " knocked off," and 
 went to press just as if it were the leading article 
 in the morning newspaper. As a matter of fact, 
 it is designed exactly a week ahead. Peering 
 through the clouds that hide the future its 
 
372 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 devisors, witli more or less of prophetic accuracy, 
 attempt to realise how a particular question of the 
 day will present itself a week later. 
 
 A tragic historical incident illustrates the 
 immutability, of the rule which locks up Punch 
 from editorial revision after the sheets are passed 
 for press on Saturday night. On Friday, May 5, 
 1882, from my box in the Press Grallery of the 
 House of Commons, I observed Lord Frederick 
 Cavendish seated on the Treasury Bench. He was 
 in his favourite attitude, making as little of him- 
 self as possible by twisting his legs together and 
 packing them under the seat. I made some 
 genial observations about him in connexion with 
 current business. They were harmless enough, 
 friendly towards a man whom, three days later, 
 Gladstone, in a hushed House of mourning, spoke 
 of as " one of the very noblest hearts ceasing to 
 beat at the moment that he had devoted himself 
 to the service of Ireland, full of love for that 
 country, full of capacity to render her service, full 
 of hope for the future." 
 
 In common with the vast majority present on 
 that Friday night, I was not aware that Lord 
 Frederick had accepted the office of Chief Secretary 
 for Ireland in succession to Forstcr. He looked in 
 at the House on his way to catch the Irish Mail. 
 It was his last appearance. Late on the next 
 night news reached the Home Secretary, at a big 
 party given at the Admiralty, that Lord Frederick, 
 walking in Phoenix Park in company with Mr. 
 
ON PUNCH STAFF 373 
 
 Burke, Permanent Under Secretary to the Irish 
 Office, had been assassinated within sight of the 
 window of the Viceregal Lodge whither he was 
 bound. Earl Spencer, looking across the Park 
 from his bedroom window, actually saw the 
 murderous tussle. Thinking it was some men 
 larking, he took no further notice of the incident. 
 
 Early on Sunday morning I went down to the 
 printing office with intention to delete from Toby's 
 Diary a passage which, innocent in itself, would, 
 published four days after the tragedy, appear un- 
 seemly in its levity. The forme was locked, but 
 happily had not gone to press. All that could be 
 done was to take out the paragraph, leaving a 
 blank space, which will be found to-day in the 
 bound volume — a sort of white stone raised to the 
 memory of hapless Lord Frederick. 
 
 To prepare a week in advance a picture de- 
 signed to illustrate the actual political situation 
 of the hour was comparatively easy in the time of 
 Mark Lemon and even of Shirley Brooks, when 
 the penny paper was not, and the electric telegraph 
 fretted in its infancy. Those were good old East- 
 Indiaman-round-the-Cape days, when news travelled 
 slowly, and the interval of a week was, in respect 
 of news, equivalent to the space of time between 
 night and morning as it is counted now. Yet it 
 is perfectly marvellous how rarely Punch has been 
 caught tripping, how regularly it comes out with 
 its cartoon so directly hitting the nail on the head 
 as to leave undisturbed the popular impression 
 
374 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 alluded to, of the blow having been poised only 
 on the night before. 
 
 A memorable exception arose in connection 
 with the march to the relief of Gordon. When 
 on the last Wednesday in January 1885 the staff 
 met at dinner, the latest news from the Soudan 
 showed the relief column almost within touch of 
 Khartoum. It was clear that nothing could stop 
 them, the only doubt being whether news of 
 Gordon's deliverance would reach London before 
 the publication of the next number, or would im- 
 mediately follow it. The topic asserted itself, and 
 the only question to be debated was its method of 
 treatment. This was settled by Tenniel drawing 
 a picture showing Sir Charles Wilson's arrival at 
 Khartoum with the remnant of the gallant force 
 Stewart had led through the desert past Abu Klea. 
 Gordon steps forward grasping both hands of his 
 deliverer, while the group of soldiers in the back- 
 ground madly cheer. Within a few hours of the 
 publication of Punch the telegraph flashed the 
 news, " Khartoum taken by the Mahdi. General 
 Gordon's fate uncertain." Immediately after came 
 news of Gordon's death, and next week the cartoon 
 showed Britannia, with sword in right hand, left 
 arm hiding weeping eyes, the picture bearing the 
 simple legend, " Too late ! " 
 
 On Wednesday, January 13, 1892, we were in 
 something of a similar quandary. Recollection 
 of the former mishap imposed exceptional caution. 
 The Duke of Clarence lay ill at Sandringham, 
 
ON PUNCa STAFF 375 
 
 almost on the eve of his appointed marriage with 
 the Princess May of Teck. On Tuesday, January 12, 
 the bulletin seemed to point to early recovery. 
 On the next day, when Mr. Punch held council at 
 the dinner-table, a turn for the worse was taken. 
 Successive bulletins gave the case the gravest aspect. 
 The Duke might linger on for a week, at the end 
 of that time struggling into convalescence or droop- 
 ing into the grave. In the mean time Punch must 
 have its cartoon, and the subject must be settled 
 on this very night. 
 
 One other subject would have been adopted 
 without discussion, save for the peril of the young 
 Duke. Tewfik Pacha had just died, and his son. 
 Abbas, was proclaimed Khedive. Within the next 
 few days he would arrive at Alexandria, escorted 
 by a British fleet. Here was our subject ready to 
 hand. But supposing anything happened to the 
 eldest son of the Heir Apparent between now and 
 next Wednesday, it would not do for Punch to 
 come out with its principal cartoon, however well 
 done, devoted to the succession to the Khedival 
 Throne. 
 
 We got over the difficulty by the simple but 
 not unlaborious plan of devising two cartoons, so 
 as to be equal to either fate. On the next morning 
 the Duke of Clarence died, and on the Wednesday 
 following Punch came out with its principal car- 
 toon, drawn by Tenniel, devoted to a single figure, 
 the darkly cloaked form of the Angel of Death 
 bearing away the bridal wreath. It bore the legend, 
 
876 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 " January 14, 1892." The second cartoon by Linley 
 Sambourne, " The Under Cut," as it was called at 
 the dinner-table, showed the young Khedive land- 
 ing at Alexandria, received by the British Lion 
 in blue-jacket garb, exclaiming, as he extended 
 his hand, "I helped your father, and I'll stand 
 by you." 
 
XXXVI 
 
 TENNIEL AND DU MAURIER 
 
 In 1864 the gaiety of tlie nation was eclipsed by 
 the death of John Leech. As a matter of course, 
 Tenniel stepped into the place of the chief car- 
 toonist of Punch, and thereafter for thirty-five 
 years, week by week, dealt with current history. 
 Fourteen years earlier, on the resignation of Doyle, 
 he had joined the staff. Fifty years later, on 
 December 3, 1900, being the date of his jubilee of 
 service and that of his retirement, the usual course 
 of the weekly dinner was interrupted in order to 
 present him with a silver tobacco box. It bore a 
 brief inscription of affection and farewell, followed 
 by the signatures of the staff, reproduced in fac 
 simile. 
 
 His first cartoon will be found on page 44 of 
 volume 20. It represents Lord John Russell as 
 Lord Jack the Giant Killer, armed cap a pie, 
 advancing to assail Cardinal Wiseman, the agent of 
 Papal aggression. To the last, Tenniel reproduced 
 his idea of the dog Toby, then first committed to 
 paper. But his fancies of Mr. Punch and of John 
 Bull in the flesh, in course of time vastly improved 
 
 377 
 
378 SIXTY YEAES IN THE "WILDEENESS 
 
 in individuality and vigour. The original of 
 one of his last cartoons appearing in Punch on 
 September 19, 1900, lie presented to me as a 
 parting gift after long coUeagueship. It is of 
 historic value, representing Kruger sculling his 
 boat away from the wreck of the Transvaal. " The 
 Sinking Ship," it is called, and shows how firm and 
 delicate was the artist's touch even in his jubUee 
 year. 
 
 Dining with us one night in Ashley Gardens, 
 and, after his genial custom, waiting for a last 
 smoke after th.e other guests were gone, lie invited 
 his hostess to make a selection from his cartoons, 
 promising to give her the original. After a pro- 
 longed search, that was of itself a pleasure, she 
 chose a cartoon incidently marking the infant days 
 of the Fourth Party. Gladstone and Hartington, 
 two majestic figures, at one side ; on the other, 
 drawn as an impudent gamin, a vulgar little boy, 
 is Lord Eandolph ChurchUl, jeering at them. 
 
 It was one of the fancies of Punch, subtly in- 
 dicative of the situation wben Lord Randolph 
 came to the fore, to present him either as a boy or 
 a man of undersized growth. He was, I should 
 say, fully five feet ten, a disposition to stoop, re- 
 produced in his son Winston, partially detracting 
 from a heigbt that rather exceeded the average. 
 A more marked, deliberately designed playfulness 
 in this direction, is shown in the case of Mr. Thomas 
 Gibson Bowles, sometime member for King's Lynn, 
 one of the ablest Parliamentarians of his day. In 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIEE 379 
 
 Toby's Diary he was always called " Cap'en 
 Tommy," and lurid stories were told of his prowess 
 at Trafalgar, and later sea fights, where he lost 
 an arm and a leg. E. T. Eeed, seizing the idea, 
 always drew him with a wooden leg, and a 
 hook where his right hand ought to be. There is 
 a story of the Lady's Gallery, which must be true, 
 since Mr. Bowles told it, indicating the confusion 
 arising out of this malpractice. The Member for 
 King's Lynn interposing in debate (a not unfamiliar 
 habit with him), a young lady in the gallery asked, 
 "Who's that?" 
 
 "That is Mr. Tommy Bowles," said her 
 mother. 
 
 " Oh no ! " insisted the inquirer, a diligent 
 student of Punch, " Cap'en Tommy Bowles has a 
 wooden leg, and only one arm." 
 
 At the weekly dinner, I sat almost immediately 
 opposite Tenniel, and had the opportunity of bene- 
 fitting by study of his beautiful nature and perfect 
 manner. Among his colleagues there was difference 
 of opinion as to whether he more resembled 
 Colonel Newcome or Don Quixote. Even with 
 the burden of fourscore years on his shoulders, he 
 was one of the youngest at the table. His lithe, 
 upright figure, his ruddy countenance, and his 
 bright look belied his years. Conjoined with a 
 healthy body was a sunny wholesome disposition. 
 Through an exceptionally long life, brought in 
 contact with innumerable people of varied kind, it 
 is safe to assert that he never made an enemy. 
 
380 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 His friends mustered in troops, the most attached 
 being those admitted to the closest intimacy. In 
 the wider circle outside Bouverie Street, his name is 
 perhaps as familiar as any spoken in the English 
 tongue. It "was his mission through fifty years to 
 shoot folly as it flew, to strike at fraud and corrup- 
 tion wheresoever they raised their heads, to touch 
 with delicate, though firm hand, the political prob- 
 lems of the hour. This task he accomplished with 
 an unfailing fancy, a delightful humour that never 
 degenerated into coarseness, nor was lacking in 
 dignity. 
 
 As noted, the Punch staff had their private 
 farewell of Tenniel on his retirement. The public 
 were not disposed to be left out of the reckoning. 
 He was invited to attend a farewell dinner, at 
 which the Prime Minister, Mr. Arthur Balfour, 
 presided. Amongst the hosts were a gathering of 
 men distinguished in various walks of life, the like 
 of which has rarely been seen even in London. A 
 touching incident marked the progress of the 
 memorable evening. The Premier, having in one 
 of his most charming speeches, proposed a toast to 
 the guest of the evening, Tenniel rose to reply. 
 He was received with an outbreak of cheering that 
 literally broke him down. He had prepared a 
 speech in reply, which doubtless was marked 
 by the manly simplicity that characterised his 
 every word and action. He stood for some 
 moments with shaking hand and quivering lips, 
 vainly endeavouring to recall the opening sentence. 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIER 381 
 
 The words would not come back to memory. After 
 struggling for some time, amid the murmur of 
 sympathetic cheers, he abruptly sat down. It was 
 agreed in conversation that no speech, however 
 pointed and well ordered, could have exceeded the 
 eloquence of this ungovernable flood of emotion. 
 
 Though Tenniel ceased from his long labour, he 
 remained a member of the staff. His seat at the 
 table is at his disposal, and his long clay church- 
 warden pipe with his monogram on the bowl is 
 preserved in the rack. I fancy he intended 
 occasionally to look in on Wednesday nights. 
 Indeed, he wrote to me on March 25, 1907— 
 "Now that Spring, according to the Almanac, 
 has really begun (it's snowing at the present 
 moment) I am looking forward to the happiness of 
 meeting all the dear clever boys again, and on the 
 earliest Wednesday I can manage, shake hands." 
 Only once did he go through the ordeal. 
 
 It was an odd coincidence that where all the 
 rest smoked cigars he and Keene should have dis- 
 played a remarkable preference in the matter of 
 pipes, Tenniel was faithful to his " churchwarden." 
 Keene smoked an odd little pipe, one of a collec- 
 tion dug up, it was said, in excavations near the 
 old London Wall. It was very like the minute 
 tube the Japanese smoke, varying inasmuch that 
 whilst the Jap's pipe is made of metal, the early 
 English specimens were clay. The great art of 
 smoking them was to preserve a sod of tobacco left 
 after the pipe went out. Two or three of these 
 
382 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 would fill a pipe, and Keene's grim face was 
 illumed with ecstasy as he smoked this villainous 
 residuum. 
 
 The subjoined correspondence tells its own 
 story— 
 
 "42, ASHIiEY CrAEDBNS, 
 
 "Julif 21,1891. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Akers Douglas, 
 
 " I wonder if you have had time to take 
 note of the remarkable, indeed in the history of 
 British Journalism, the unprecedented reception 
 Mr. Punch met with on his Jubilee. 
 
 " It suggests an opportunity which I venture 
 to think will not be unpalatable to Lord Salisbury, 
 of the Premier's joining in the tribute. The main- 
 stay of Punch now and for nearly forty years past 
 is John Tenniel. His name is a household word 
 wherever the English tongue is spoken. He is 
 one of the few conspicuously successful men who 
 have not an enemy in private or professional 
 circles. 
 
 " I do not know whether you are personally 
 acquainted with him, but he has friends in several 
 of your colleagues in the Ministry, who recog- 
 nise in him the very pink of English gentle 
 manhood. 
 
 " I venture to suggest that the Jubilee of 
 Punch would be a fitting occasion for the Crown 
 to pay some compliment to the veteran artist. I 
 know such action would be as much appreciated 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIER 383 
 
 by the Punch staff as if it "were conferred indi- 
 vidually upon each member, whilst in artistic and 
 general circles it would be acclaimed. 
 
 " I should add that I write to you without 
 concert with any of my colleagues, so that if 
 nothing can be done in the matter, there will be 
 no feeling of having suffered rebuff. 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 "Henry W. Lxjcy." 
 
 "12, Downing Street, S.W., 
 " July 27, 1891. 
 
 "Dear Mr. Lucy, 
 
 " I have delayed any answer to yours of 
 21st, hoping that I might have been able to see 
 my chief on the subject. I have not been able to 
 do so as yet, and therefore all I can say is that it 
 will be a great pleasure to me to urge at the first 
 opportunity the claims of Mr. John Tenniel. 
 
 "I have not the pleasure of Mr. Tenniel's 
 acquaintance in the flesh, but he has no warmer 
 admirer than 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "A. Akbrs Douglas." 
 
 Mr. Akers Douglas was, at the time this cor- 
 respondence passed. Chief Whip of the Unionist 
 Party, an office known as that of the Patronage 
 Secretary. 
 
 Lord Salisbury missed the opportunity of 
 performing a gracious and popular action. In the 
 
384 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 following year a general election brought Mr. 
 Gladstone into office. I sent Sir "William Har- 
 court a copy of the above letter, asking him to 
 bring the matter personally under the notice of 
 the new Preniier. " Les beaux esprit se rencontre," 
 Sir WUliam wrote to me expressing warm approval 
 of the suggestion. Within a few months the 
 Knighthood was bestowed. 
 
 The subjoined refers to an autograph letter 
 from the author of " Through the Looking Glass," 
 of which I had seen a copy. Thinking it would 
 interest Tenniel, I sent him a cutting containing 
 the text. 
 
 " 10, POETSDOWN EOAD, MaIDA HilL, W., 
 
 "June 12, 1907. 
 
 "My dear H. W. Lucy, 
 
 "'Tho' lost to sight,' ever held in 
 happiest remembrance and I thank you — and 
 Mrs. Lucy — very heartily for the two kind 
 letters. 
 
 " The little episode in your admirable ' London 
 Letter ' concerning ' Lewis Carroll ' — ' Through 
 the Looking Glass ' — and ' Dicky Doyle,' certainly 
 took me rather by surprise, in that I have not the 
 very remotest recollection of the circumstances — 
 so long ago — and therefore, how I, in my right 
 mind, and perfectly sober senses, could for a 
 moment have thought of persuading Lewis CarroU 
 (failing myself) or agreeing with him in any way, 
 that ' Dicky ' Doyle would be equal to illustrating 
 
TBNNIEL AND DU MAUEIER 385 
 
 ' Through the Looking Glass ' — fills me with an 
 amazement which might well puzzle the best of 
 conjurers. When having, ages ago, forgotten all 
 about it, I saw the little paragraph with poor 
 Dodgson's letter to ' Dicky ' in print, it gave me 
 rather a turn to think that what it described 
 occurred just fifty years ago ; and that I am now 
 in my 88th year ! 
 
 " However, that I am wonderfully well in 
 health, 'I give Heaven praise,' the great trouble 
 being steadily increasing blindness, the mere 
 thought of which fills me with terror and dismay, 
 as even now I read and write — especially write — 
 with difiiculty. In which distressful circum- 
 stances I can only hope and pray, that you and 
 your dear wife will kindly and gracefully forgive 
 this disgracefully belated acknowledgment of the 
 ' London Letter,' and with ever kindest regards 
 to both, believe me, as of old 
 
 " Very sincerely yours, 
 
 "John Tenniel." 
 
 For a man in his 88th year, dim-sighted 
 withal, the four-paged letter is a marvel of firm, 
 clear writing. 
 
 At the Punch table, Du Maurier was always 
 called " Kicky." I spell it so without authority, 
 for I never saw it written. Others write it " Kiki." 
 Some In Memoriam notes which appeared in print 
 after his death, brought me interesting correspon- 
 dence on the subject. Burnand wrote : " Du 
 
 2 C 
 
386 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 Maurier was 'Kiki' not 'Kicky.' He got the 
 name in his French student days. ' Kiki ' is a 
 thoroughly French soubriquet." This is interest- 
 ing and authoritative. But it is obvious that the 
 French pronunciation of the name so spelt would 
 be " Keekee," whereas he was always " Elicky " at 
 the Punch table. On the other hand, the late 
 Ernest Hart, writing to me, testifies — 
 
 "In an album belonging to my sister. Me. 
 Vignal, is a drawing made many years since by 
 the late accomplished artist, whom we all deplore, 
 of Mr. Whistler and himself. It is signed ' Jimmy 
 and Kicky.' They are walking jauntingly along, 
 arm in arm, and are excellent portraits of the two 
 friends as they were in the flesh upwards of thirty- 
 five years ago. Subsequent events lend a special 
 interest to this sportive but now plaintive 
 souvenir." 
 
 A new turn is given to the subject in the 
 following letter addressed to me by one of 
 Du Maurier 's old schoolfellows : — 
 
 " At the London University College School we 
 called him ' Kicky ' for a very definite reason. He 
 was never still with his feet, flinging his legs about 
 in a way which we considered ' very French,' and 
 England at that time, 1845-52, was a much more 
 stiflf and ungymnastic country than it is now. 
 
 " I have a vivid recollection of him during the 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIEE 387 
 
 short time he was at the school. His quick, 
 jerky conversation equally voluble in French or 
 English, he was accustomed to point, so to speak, 
 with his feet. He would come close up to you, 
 his eyelids rapidly blinking, his hands in his 
 trousers' pockets (bad form in '50), and emphasise 
 a torrent of questions by knocking off your cap 
 with one foot, and sending your books flying with 
 the other. Before you could get at him, ' Bew- 
 song,' as his name was generally pronounced, was 
 ten yards off. All this was in. perfect good 
 humour. Sometimes he instructed us in ' Savate,' 
 a kind of French boxing with the feet, then being 
 exhibited at a place in Leicester ,Square. In 
 dividing the honours at these lessons there were 
 no ha'pence for him, but unlimited kicks for us, 
 which he delightedly administered with a perfectly 
 calm face. 
 
 "He was with me in the French classes con- 
 ducted by a rather quick-tempered and stiff master, 
 M. A. Kagan, whose academic taste was outraged 
 by ' Kicky's ' very colloquial French. 
 
 "The verbal sparring between these two was 
 a great delight to the rest of us. To begin with, 
 there was his name. He would juggle with ' Bus- 
 son ' and ' Du Maurier ' (the latter M. Eagan never 
 willingly accepted) until a storm of voluble French, 
 both at it at once, would be brought to an end 
 with a thundering demand, ' Tell me your name, 
 sir.' Then 'Busson du Maurier' would be fired 
 off like a shell, and peace ensued. 
 
388 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 "During these encounters 'Kicky's' feet were 
 never idle. The rows of books and papers on the 
 table at which the master sat, were constantly on 
 the move. In the midst of the altercation, 
 M. Eagan, who was near-sighted, was making 
 little dives and clutches, as one article after 
 another threatened to slip to the ground. If, in 
 his excitement, he rose from his chair, it would be 
 sure to slide off under the delicately administered 
 ' sleight of leg ' Kicky managed to apply 
 to it." 
 
 For more than thirty years, Du Maurier had 
 his place at the weekly dinner of the Punch staff. 
 It was a pathetic close to his life that it ebbed out 
 with the finish of a Wednesday. About 9 o'clock 
 on the night of the first Wednesday in October, 
 1896, there came to his colleagues at the Punch 
 table a telegraphic message conveying the latest 
 bulletin. It was by no means despairing. It even 
 encouraged the hope some clung to that when the 
 spring came round, and all nature's best produc- 
 tions brightened into new life, we should have 
 "Kicky" back again at the table. Two hours 
 later, at a time when, through ordinary weeks of 
 a long career, he would have been quitting the 
 table on his way homeward, the end of all his 
 journeys was signalled. He could not hear the 
 echo of Thackeray's grim song round Mr. Punch's 
 mahogany tree — 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUBIBR 389 
 
 " Here let us sport, 
 Boys, as we sit ; 
 Laughter and wit 
 Flashing so free. 
 Life is but short — 
 When we are gone, 
 Let them sing on 
 Eound the old tree." 
 
 Of late years he had not b,een a constant attend- 
 ant at the Wednesday dinner. Living on Hamp- 
 stead Heath, it was no slight undertaking to dine 
 in Bouverie Street with the prospect of engaging 
 a cabnaau willing near midnight to brave the final 
 ascent. He had some humorous stories of his 
 struggles with reluctant cabmen in facing the last 
 quarter of an hour of the journey. That through 
 many years he should have attended so regularly 
 was testimony to his affectionate associations with 
 the scene and the company. 
 
 In an undated letter, probably written some- 
 where about 1892, he shrewdly discourses on the 
 difference between his work and that of his old friend 
 Leech. At the foot he drew a dead lion, labelled 
 Leech, and a live jackass with the initials D. M. 
 
 "New Geove House, Hampstead Heath. 
 "Dear Lucy, 
 
 " Very many thanks for your excellently 
 well written and most appreciative article, which 
 has muchly touched and gratified your little D. M. 
 
390 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 — in spite of the ever inevitable comparison with 
 Leech, whose aims and methods were the anti- 
 podes of mine. 
 
 " And indeed I ought not to complain of such 
 a comparison, for if the greatest artist is he who 
 gives the greatest pleasure to the greatest number 
 (including myself), Leech is certainly the greatest 
 artist that ever lived ; and to be mentioned in the 
 same breath (or par.) with him is an honour. 
 
 " Even Thackeray himself complained of being 
 constantly compared to Dickens, who was ten 
 times as popular as himself — and didn't even 
 write for Punch, and wasn't even dead ! Not that 
 I am for comparing such featherweights as Leech 
 and Du M. and their likes, with the likes of 
 Thackeray and Dickens. The pen is a so much 
 bigger engine than the pencU, that the wielders 
 thereof, cseteris paribus, stand on very different 
 platforms. I only wish to point out the distinction 
 between the artist (either penny or pemilly) who 
 tries to depict people as they really are, and the 
 artist who has the enviable gift of so exquisitely 
 distorting them that the sacrifice of truth is more 
 than compensated by the side-splitting laughter 
 the performance creates. They are really not fit 
 objects for a parallel : the former is too much 
 handicapped by the comparative severity of his 
 aim and method — and not even ' the colour of 
 Titian and the design of Michael Angelo' will 
 win him favour when the funny man is b)''. Tant 
 il est bon de Men rire / 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIEE 391 
 
 " Contrastez-nous, si vous voulez — ne nous eorn- 
 parez past Briggs' horse is running away with 
 a delightful but impossible person. It's a joyous 
 nightmare : my polo ponies are under the perfect 
 control of gUded youths, whose object is to look 
 their best in the eyes of lovely woman ! But 
 beautiful as man and horse can be, if in real life 
 Briggs' horse were to run away with his master 
 across the polo-ground at Hurlingham, I guess the 
 polo-players would be out of it, in the memories 
 of that happy day. Fortunately for them, no man 
 that is being run away with could ever look so 
 funny as Mr. Briggs ! 
 
 " But, also, and en fin de compte, nobody feels 
 more than I do (who know him thoroughly by 
 heart) that Leech stands alone, unapproached 
 hitherto, and probably unapproachable ! 
 
 " (I have generally stuck to the ' classes ' 
 because C. K. seems to have monopolized the 
 ' masses ' — Division of labour.) 
 
 " What a long letter ! and not very clear after 
 all. At all events, I am much obliged to you 
 for the sympathetic touch with which you have 
 treated 
 
 " Yours ever, 
 
 " Gr. DU MaURIBR. 
 
 " (P.S.) a Mercredi ! — Mitre — Hampton Court." 
 
 He took little part in the keen discussion that 
 leads up to the conception of the cartoon. But 
 he closely followed it, occasionally offered a 
 
392 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 suggestion, eagerly seized, tossed about, pancake- 
 making fashion, and in the main adopted. 
 
 It was after the conclusion of stern business 
 that Kicky came to the front. When, as was his 
 custom of summer nights, he took off his coat, 
 lolled back in his chair, lit another of his illimitable 
 cigarettes, and began to talk, his personality loomed 
 large at the table. He was a delightful conver- 
 sationalist, his talk lambent with fancy and humour. 
 Those who have never had the pleasure of sitting 
 in his company will find a satisfying reflex in 
 his novels. When he discovered to his amaze- 
 ment that, in addition to being a great artist, he 
 was a born literary man, he created and established 
 his phenomenal success by refraining from strained 
 effort. I do not know any writer whose printed 
 words are more like his ordinary talk than some 
 of the best passages in " Peter Ibbetson " and 
 "Trilby" are to Kicky's after-dinner talk at the 
 Punch table. In reading them, I can hear his 
 pleasant voice with its musical intonation of every 
 syllable, a gift that came to him with his French 
 birth. 
 
 About " Trilby " Bumand wrote — 
 
 "/SfeptowSer 30, 1894. 
 
 "Dear Lucy, 
 
 " I think you darkly hinted your willing- 
 ness to ' do ' ' Trilby ' in Pwmli. By all means : it 
 is as far as I have read it a decidedly clever as well 
 as an interesting and amusing book : the freshness 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIBE 393 
 
 of the style being marred by tbe introduction of 
 the commonest cheapest Music Hall Slang of the 
 present day, unintelligible to many now and Syro- 
 chaldee, etc., to the ordinary reader in the near 
 future. Had Thackeray had a bastard son in 
 literature, and that bastard had had another 
 bastard in literature, I think it possible that the 
 last in this line might possibly have written ' Trilby,' 
 The Deistic Little Billee sneering to his worthy 
 confidant, a dog, at what he is utterly incapable 
 of appreciating (I do not say of ' understanding ' 
 or ' comprehending ') represents that tyrannical 
 braggart school of French deism (absolute Atheism 
 is impossible) which would, in the name of Liberty 
 of thought, burn, behead and crucify all who might 
 venture to differ from themselves : as in fact they 
 did in the Great French Kevolution and as they 
 did again under the Commune in our own day. 
 Of which the sum is this, if you agree with me, just 
 introduce one line suggesting that it would have 
 been better to have curtailed (this contains no 
 covert allusion to the Dog) Little Billee's inordi- 
 nately long and somewhat commonplace monologue 
 in vol, n., and still better would it have been (if 
 that monologue were essential to the scheme) to have 
 done as Thackeray would most certainly have 
 done, and have reverently answered ' the Spirit 
 that denies ' in one of those confidential paragraphs 
 of which W, M, T. was a master. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 "F. C. BURNAND." 
 
394 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 On Wednesday nights Kicky was always in the 
 fullest flood of high spirits, his talk irradiated with 
 flashes of subtlest humour. "With failing health, 
 he was apt to be influenced by low spirits. Suc- 
 cess from a new avenue, sunlit by quite unusual 
 glow of pecuniary reward, came to him too late. 
 He never was the same man after he made his 
 great success with " Trilby." I remember one night 
 in the early summer, of the year of his death, 
 dining with us at Ashley Gardens, he met an old 
 friend. Talking about his next novel, Lord 
 Wolseley asked what was its title. 
 
 " I think," said Du Maurier, with a humorous 
 smUe, " I'll call it ' Soured by Success.' " 
 
 There is many a true word spoken in jest. I 
 am afraid truth underlay this little flash of 
 humour. 
 
 Perhaps, after all, the secret of his dolor was 
 failing health. A not too robust frame succumbed 
 to the efforts of an unselfish, strenuous life that 
 spread a wide wave of pleasure among mankind. 
 In accordance with his directions Du Maurier's body 
 was cremated at Woking. The ashes placed in a 
 casket were buried under a yew tree in a corner of 
 Hampstead Parish Church, within sound of whose 
 bells long years of his life passed. At the open 
 grave, so small that it seemed prepared for a little 
 child. Canon Ainger, long time a close friend, with 
 faltering voice read the solemn passage, "Forasmuch 
 as it hath pleased Almighty God of His great mercy 
 to take unto Himself the soul of our dear brother 
 
TENNIEL AND DU MAUEIEE 395 
 
 here departed, we therefore commit his body to the 
 ground." 
 
 Among the group who stood bareheaded whilst 
 the casket was reverently placed in the grave were 
 Du Maurier's colleagues, most of whom had been 
 present when, on the last Wednesday in July, he 
 came down to sit, for the last time, in the little 
 circle his presence brightened for more than thirty 
 years. He looked curiously grey in the face, one 
 sadly remembers, and, to begin with, was unusually 
 quiet. But he brisked up when cigarette-time 
 came, and stayed late in merriest mood. On this 
 day in chill October we had come to bury Kicky, 
 not any more to hear his pleasant talk. 
 
 Et puis ban soir. 
 
XXXVII 
 
 SIR FRANCIS BURNAND 
 
 The appointment of Frank Burnand to the editor- 
 sMp of Punch, on vacation of the chair by Tom 
 Taylor, was hailed with acclaim. Here was the right 
 man in the right place, the square peg in the square 
 hole. The soul of humour himself, Burnand quickly 
 recognized its flashes in others, and was ever on the 
 look-out to secure desirable recruits for Mr. Punch's 
 service. With one exception, the staff carrying on 
 the work to-day were aU selected and appointed 
 during the term of his editorship. When he be- 
 came editor, he found himself splendidly supported 
 on the artistic side. Tenniel, Keene, Du Maurier, 
 and Linley Sambourne were a quartette that pre- 
 served the ancient renown of Punch pictures. 
 Burnand turned his attention to strengthening the 
 literary wing of the staff. 
 
 His success was marked by an observation made 
 in the late Eighties by Mr. James Bryce, now 
 British Minister at Washington : " I used formerly 
 to look through the pictures in Punch and lay the 
 number down ; now I read it through." 
 
 WhUe still in the full enjoyment of health, 
 
 396 
 
SIE PEANCIS BURN AND 397 
 
 Burnand, in whatsoever company lie found him- 
 self, bubbled with humour. He was at his very 
 best presiding at the Punch table. It is a pity no 
 record was made of the good things he flashed 
 forth at every sitting. We laughed and forgot. 
 One I remember, perhaps because it was outside 
 the constellation that shone on Wednesday nights. 
 He and I were talking in the crowded assembly at 
 the Foreign Ofl&ce on one of the Queen's Birthday 
 nights. A guest in uniform, starred and medalled, 
 came up and effusively shook hands with Burnand, 
 whose reception betrayed some embarrassment. 
 Observing this the new-comer said — 
 
 " I see you don't know me from Adam." 
 
 " My dear sir," said Burnand, " I didn't know 
 Adam." 
 
 Tired out myself with long discussion on an 
 especially difficult cartoon, I often admired and 
 envied the patience displayed by Burnand. He 
 listened to every suggestion, weighed and appraised 
 it, attending carefully to comments. No pains 
 were too great, no devotion of time too lavish, if 
 in the end the right thing was hit upon. 
 
 With all his geniality he had that reserve force 
 of autocracy necessary to one in his position. I 
 never inquired into the circumstances, but I fancy 
 some ebullition of this character led to what might 
 have proved a serious matter. As far as it touched 
 me personally, I have kept the secret for twelve 
 years. As there is no discredit to any one con- 
 cerned, and as it pointed to a momentous turn 
 
398 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 proposed in the life some passages of which are 
 here recorded, there is no reason why I should not 
 mention the episode. 
 
 Every year, on the eve of the opening of the 
 Eoyal Academy Exhibition, Sir Henry Tate, 
 founder of the Picture Gallery which bears his 
 honoured name, gave a banquet at his house at 
 Streatham, the guests being Eoyal Academicians 
 or Associates, By some chance I was regularly 
 invited to join the charmed circle, being the only 
 layman present with the exception of Sir William 
 Agnew, whose long and intimate connection with 
 painting and painters made his comradeship more 
 natural. Driving to Streatham he was good 
 enough to pick me up at Ashley Grardens, safely 
 delivering me home after a cheerful dinner. 
 
 On one of these occasions (April 28, 1897) he, 
 abruptly turning the conversation, offered me the 
 editorship of Punch. 
 
 " What about Burnand 1 " I asked. 
 
 He explained that differences had arisen 
 between the editor and the proprietors, which con- 
 firmed the latter in the slowly formed resolution 
 of making a change. 
 
 If Agnew had offered me his brougham and the 
 pair of horses that were trundling us down to 
 Streatham I should have been far less surprised. 
 It was a glittering prize dangled before appre- 
 ciative eyes. At the time I would rather have 
 been editor of Punch than Emperor of India. Of 
 all positions on the British Press it is to my mind 
 
SIR FEANOIS BUENAND 399 
 
 at once the most honourable and the most honoured. 
 The temptation was supreme. I don't think it cost 
 me two minutes' hesitation before it was put aside. 
 I could get along very well as I was. For Burnand 
 the severance from the paper with which his name 
 had been so long associated would be a cruel blow, 
 not only to his pride, but to his prospects as a 
 bread-winner. 
 
 I told Agnew that, much as I valued the honour 
 done me, I could not accept it to the deposition of 
 the man who gave me my first footing on Punch, 
 and whose friendship I had enjoyed for fifteen 
 years. Agnew would not accept the refusal, insist- 
 ing that I should, as he put it, sleep over the 
 matter. I slept accordingly, very comfortably, 
 and on the following day sent him the subjoined 
 letter — 
 
 " 42, Ashley Gaedens, Victobia Steeet, S.W., 
 
 " 29, 4, '97. 
 
 "My dear Agnew, — Eeferring to our con- 
 versation yesterday evening, I have carefully 
 thought it over, and am confirmed in the 
 instant impression I endeavoured to convey to 
 you. 
 
 " I regard the editorship of Punch as the blue 
 ribbon of the English Press. That I should have 
 been thought worthy to have it ofiered to me gives 
 me sincere pleasure. But, my dear Agnew, I do 
 not forget that F. C. B. brought me on the Punch 
 stafi". I could not under any possible arrangement 
 
400 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 of circumstances be a party to his supersession to 
 my personal and professional advantage. 
 " With many thanks and sincere esteem, 
 " I am, yours faithfully, 
 
 "Henry W. Lucy." 
 
 Having thus obtained a locus standi, I had the 
 great pleasure of acting as mediator between the 
 temporarily estranged friends. Of course Bumand 
 knew nothing about the conversation on the drive 
 to Streatham. Till these lines appear in print no 
 one outside the brougham does, with the exception 
 of my wife, who (for a woman) is singularly trust- 
 worthy. 
 
 By exception I did not share the proverbial 
 fate of those who in a quarrel interpose. On the 
 contrary, when the sun shone again in Bouverie 
 Street, Bumand wrote a letter acknowledging 
 with exaggerated appreciation my services in the 
 matter. Sir William Agnew was not less generous 
 in his commentary, and we lived happily ever 
 afterwards, or, to be precise, for another nine years. 
 
 Burnand was insistent upon constant attend- 
 ance at the weekly dinner. For myself the 
 arrangement was a little awkward, since up to the 
 date of Mr. Balfour's Premiership, the House of 
 Commons, adjourning before six on Wednesday 
 evenings, left the night free for Parliamentary 
 dinners. Here is one of the occasional remon- 
 strances failure to put in an appearance drew upon 
 a guilty head. 
 
SIR PEANCIS BURNAND 401 
 
 " June 8, '94. 
 
 "My dear LtrcY, — Both Tenniel and myself 
 refuse almost all Wednesday invitations to dinner, 
 and I do hope that you will in future place Mr. 
 Punch's claims upon you before those of dukes, 
 duchesses, baronesses, countesses, Members of 
 Parliament, and Dr. E. Eoose. 
 
 " If the highly popular Toby does not make 
 some sacrifice for his beloved master, Mr. Punch, 
 during the Session, his beloved master will be 
 deeply hurt by his neglect. You see, though the 
 dinner is a pleasure, yet at the same time it is 
 business, and business is the first consideration. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " F. C. BURNAND." 
 
 William Agnew — Sir William, Bart., as he 
 became somewhat tardily in view of his claims 
 upon the party with which he was associated in 
 times of adversity as well as in prosperity — was 
 thoroughly imbued with the spirit and traditions 
 of Punch. He was never so happy as when 
 entertaining the staff at dinner in his house in 
 Great Stanhope Street, or when occupying the 
 vice-chair at the Wednesday dinner. In later 
 years, advancing age bringing its troubles and 
 disabilities, he disappeared from the scene, to the 
 regret especially of the older members of the staff 
 whose acquaintance was more intimate, and there- 
 fore more affectionate. 
 
 2 B 
 
402 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 " 42, Ashley Gaedens, 
 
 " ViCTOHiA Street, 1897. 
 
 " My dear Agnew, — I have always intended 
 that, when my pilgrimage to Bouverie Street on 
 Wednesday evenings shall cease, my colleagues 
 and their successors in the old room should be in 
 possession of the portraits of Burnand and Tenniel, 
 painted for me by E. A. Ward. I hereby bequeath 
 them. Mrs. Lucy is aware of my intention, and 
 I expect that my executors will observe it on 
 presentation of this letter. But if you can suggest 
 any more formal and effective way in which the 
 desire can be carried out it shall be done. 
 
 " The only condition I make is that on each of 
 the frames shall be let in a small plate with the 
 inscription: — 'Presented by Toby, M.P., to his 
 colleagues and companions round the old Mahogany 
 Tree.' Here to follow the day and year of my 
 death. The pictures are to be the possession of 
 the Punch staff, to hang in their dining-room. 
 " With kind regards, 
 
 « Yours faithfully, 
 
 " Henry W. Lucy." 
 
 " Your generosity touches me," Agnew wrote. 
 *' I can say no more ; I wiU consider the way your 
 wishes were best made operative, and bless you for 
 your loyalty to old Punch." 
 
 Seven years later I sat to Sargent for my 
 own portrait, which wUl finally join the company 
 of my two old friends and colleagues in the 
 
SIR FRANCIS BURNAND 403 
 
 dining-room where through many years we weekly 
 sat at meat. 
 
 " 11, Geeat Stanhope Street, W., 
 
 "April 19, 1904. 
 
 " My dear Lucy, — I have just come in from 
 the New Gallery, and I cannot refrain from writing 
 to say that I saw what I think is the finest portrait 
 by Sargent ever painted, that of H. W. Lucy. 
 " You and he are to be congratulated. 
 " Yours very truly, 
 
 " Wm. Agnew." 
 
 When I informed Burnand of my intention to 
 bequeath the portraits to the Punch table he 
 shrewdly suggested the desirability of a time limit. 
 It is the present historic proprietary and the com- 
 panionship of which I have been a member for a 
 quarter of a century I desired to benefit. In these 
 days of quick change of the personnel of newspaper 
 proprietors no one can say what a year may bring 
 forth. Adopting his view I varied the original 
 intention, leaving the three portraits in Mr. 
 Punch's keeping for ten years, begging him there- 
 after to offer them to the authorities of the National 
 Portrait gallery. 
 
^XXXVIII 
 
 THIRTY-SIX years' HARD LABOUR AT WESTMINSTER 
 
 Thirty-six years ago, when I took my seat in tlie 
 Press Gallery of the House of Commons as director 
 of the staff of a great morning newspaper, Mr. 
 Gladstone was Prime Minister, Mr. Lowe, Chan- 
 cellor of the Exchequer, Mr. Bruce (afterwards 
 Lord Aberdare), Home Secretary, Earl Granville, 
 Foreign Secretary, Lord Eamberley, Colonial 
 Secretary, Mr. Cardwell, War Minister, the Duke 
 of Argyll, Secretary of State for India, Mr. 
 Childers, First Lord of the Admiralty, Sir Kobert 
 Collier, Attorney-General, Sir John Coleridge, 
 Solicitor-General, Lord Dufferin, Chancellor of the 
 Duchy. All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 
 
 Of members of the first Gladstone Adminis- 
 tration stUl with us are Lord Lansdowne, who, 
 commencing official life as Junior Lord of the 
 Treasury in a Liberal Government, lived to succeed 
 Lord Salisbury at the Foreign Office, and to lead 
 the Unionist majority in the House of Lords ; 
 and Mr, Arthur Peel, who proved one of the best 
 Speakers the House of Commons has known, and 
 
 404 
 
THIETY-SIX YEARS AT WESTMINSTEE 405 
 
 to-day lives in honoured retirement as Viscount 
 Peel. Lately died the Duke of Devonshire, who, 
 as Lord Hartington, was Chief Secretary for 
 Ireland ; and Mr. Goschen, a Liberal President of 
 the Poor Law Board, who within a score of years 
 bloomed into the fulness of a Unionist Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer. 
 
 Gladstone was in his sixty-fourth year, but, as 
 far as mental and physical activity were concerned, 
 in the very prime of life. Two years later, 
 smitten at the poll with heavy hand, he suddenly 
 convinced himself that he was advanced in years, 
 and had earned the guerdon of rest. " At sixty- 
 five," he wrote to " my dear Granville " immedi- 
 ately after the rout of the Liberals at the General 
 Election of 1874, "after forty-two years of a 
 laborious public life, I think myself entitled to 
 retire on the first opportunity." Gladstone had in 
 remarkable measure, the comforting gift of con- 
 vincing himself of the accuracy of any view of 
 current events he might take at a particular 
 moment. If they diametrically difiered from 
 others expressed at earlier epochs, what matter? 
 He was dealing with to-day, not the day before 
 yesterday. When he uttered this wail for rest 
 he really meant he had done with political afiairs, 
 and might now devote himself to the afiairs of 
 the Vatican, varied by more leisurely study of 
 Homer. 
 
 Soon he discovered his mistake. His manner 
 of rectifying it was a little bit of comedy 
 
406 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 delightful to watch. Through the opening session 
 of the Disraelian Parliament he studiously absented 
 himself, leaving the conduct of the business of the 
 Opposition in commission. Shortly after Lord 
 Hartington aocepted the thankless post of Leader, 
 he began furtively to reappear on the familiar 
 scene. As the session lengthened the old passion 
 awakened in his breast. With increasing force he 
 felt himself drawn back into the vortex of par- 
 liamentary life. That, however, would never do. 
 Had he not publicly announced his retirement, 
 and was not his seat opposite the brass-bound box 
 filled by another ? The temptation was irresis- 
 tible, and he felt himself yielding to it. 
 
 This he did with characteristic subtlety. When 
 he looked in on debate he assumed a casual air, 
 unconsciously founded upon remote study of Paul 
 Pry, indicating hope that he did not intrude; 
 Also, like Paul Pry, he went the length of carrying 
 an umbrella under his arm when he emerged from 
 behind the Speaker's chair, an incident unparalleled 
 in the career of an ex-Minister. Its meaning was 
 clear to the seeing eye. When he left home 
 nothing was farther from his thoughts than 
 resumption of attendance on sittings of the House 
 of Commons. As he strolled down Parliament 
 Street, meaning to take the air of the silver 
 Thames as it swept by the Embankment, his eye 
 fell upon the lofty structure of the Houses of 
 Parliament. 
 
 "Hallo ! " said Mr. Wemmick, taking a morning 
 
THIETY-SIX YEAES AT WESTMINSTEE 407 
 
 walk with Miss Skiffins on his arm, "here's a 
 church. Let's go in and get married." 
 
 Eeaders of " Great Expectations " will remember 
 how the great strategy of Mr. Wemmick's life was 
 an attitude of unpreparedness for ordered events, 
 an air of surprise at the development of a delibe- 
 rately arranged sequence. That, of course, was 
 not Gladstone's mental habitude; but we can 
 imagine him on this particular occasion saying to 
 himself, " Hallo ! here's the House of Commons. 
 Let's go in and see what they are doing." 
 
 Entering, he kept up appearances by sitting at 
 the remote end of the bench, the humble place of 
 ex-Under-Secretaries. In further evidence of the 
 casualness of his call, he put on his hat when he 
 sat down, crossed gloved hands over the handle 
 of his umbrella, and looked round the House with 
 the glow of pleased interest seen on the faces 
 of strangers in the Gallery making their first 
 acquaintance with the historic scene. 
 
 Of course this did not last long. The glamour 
 of the House of Commons reasserted its power 
 over the man who in youth and manhood splen- 
 didly added to it. The cry of hapless Bulgaria, 
 trampled on by the Turk, acted as a trumpet-call 
 upon the veteran who had laboriously convinced 
 himself that his helmet was now a hive for bees. 
 When he now came down to the House the 
 umbrella, which added a touch of farce to the 
 situation by slightly Gampish appearance, was left 
 in the stand. His head was bared. He literally 
 
408 SIXTY YEARS IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 took off his gloves and " went for " a Government 
 that looked on unconcerned at the massacres at 
 Sofia, a Premier who characterised narrative of 
 the atrocities as " coffee-house babble." 
 
 Never ia public life in either hemisphere were 
 there confronted two men more diametrically 
 opposed in manner and mode of thought than 
 Disraeli and Gladstone. They had only one thing 
 in common — genius. To each the other was an 
 interesting, inexplicable puzzle. Here, again, there 
 was difference in their method of contemplation. 
 Gladstone, with his untamable energy, his rich 
 verbosity, his susceptibility to religious and moral 
 influences, rather amused Dizzy. When in fine 
 frenzy rolling, whether championing the rights of 
 nationalities or the privilege of minorities, Dizzy, 
 seated on the other side of the table, regarded him 
 through his eyeglass with the air of one studying 
 some strange animal recently imported. Gladstone 
 was much more definite in his views about Dis- 
 raeli. He rarely spoke or wrote of him in private 
 relations. When he did there was only futile 
 attempt to disguise his conviction that Dizzy was 
 sorely lacking in principle. 
 
 When I first saw Disraeli in the House of 
 Commons he was seated on the Front Opposition 
 Bench, sUent, sphinx-like. He was in disgrace at 
 the time with his own party, having disappointed 
 their hopes by declining offiice, proffered him by the 
 Queen after Gladstone's defeat in 1873 on the Irish 
 University Bill. His prescience was abundantly 
 
THIRTY-SIX YEARS AT WESTMINSTER 409 
 
 justified when, a few months later, a G-eneral 
 Election gave him a majority that for the first 
 time in an already long career placed him in power 
 as well as in office. It was after that epoch that 
 the Disraeli known to the last generation, the 
 statesman who will live in history among British 
 Prime Ministers, came to birth. Hitherto, through 
 a turbulent life, he had a dual battle to fight. 
 There were his political adversaries in the Liberal 
 camp ; his worst, most dangerous, foes were those 
 of his own household. For more than thirty years 
 he had been suspect, an undesirable alien among the 
 Tory party, to which he, after due consideration, 
 finally decided to attach himself. His supreme 
 gifts made him indispensable to them. None the 
 less they distrusted and disliked him. 
 
 Even after he came into his own, Prime 
 Minister and Leader of a party he, as he boasted, 
 had educated, there was evidence in the House of 
 Commons of the old, deeply rooted feeling. It 
 was manifested by two typical Tories, George 
 Bentinck (known as " Big Ben " to distinguish him 
 from Cavendish Bentinck, a kinsman of lesser 
 stature) and Beresford Hope, uncle of the then 
 unknown Arthur James Balfour. Hope was 
 founder of the Saturday Review, proprietor through 
 its palmy days, which were chiefly devoted to 
 attacking Dizzy. To haU him as "that glorious 
 Jew" in rhymed description of a ministerial 
 dinner-party given by him on his accession to the 
 office of the Chancellor of the Exchequer was, in 
 
410 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 respect of tlie adjective, complimentary compared 
 with what readers of the Saturday were taught to 
 expect. Dizzy retorted by reference to Beresford 
 Hope's " Batavian grace." This perfect Disraelian 
 phrase can b» fully enjoyed only by those who had 
 personal knowledge of Beresford Hope. Of Dutch 
 descent, he preserved the somewhat ungainly 
 stumpiness of figure common to his forbears. His 
 manner of addressing the House was thoughtfully 
 elaborate, his phrases being drawn out in fashion 
 suggestive of the finally successful operation of a 
 corkscrew upon a stubborn cork. 
 
 Dizzy grew almost mellow in the sunshine of 
 late, unexpected prosperity. Not comparable with 
 Gladstone as a debater, certainly not as an orator, 
 he was infinitely his superior as Leader of the 
 House of Commons. Gladstone walked about lobby 
 and corridor with his head in the clouds, not seeing 
 on his way faithful followers whose loyalty would 
 have been strengthened by a nod, a smile, or a 
 friendly word. He did not mean to be offensive. 
 In this habit he was so in more than one well- 
 known instance, greatly to the detriment of his 
 cause and his Government. In social life the most 
 courteous of men, when actually engaged in the 
 service of the State he had no time or thought for 
 small personal matters. Disraeli had, and greatly 
 profited by their culture. 
 
 Lord Eowton, long time his private secretary, 
 told me his chief utilised what otherwise might 
 have been wasted moments in the Division Lobby 
 
THIETY-SIX YBAES AT WESTMINSTEE 411 
 
 by soldering any little cracks apparent in tlie 
 Ministerial forces. If the Whips notified to him 
 sign of revolt in a particular quarter, the Premier, 
 watching the throng pass through the Division 
 Lobby, would nod recognition to the discontented 
 member, engage him in conversation whilst the 
 Lobby emptied, and, if the case were at all 
 threatening, link arms and lead him on to the 
 wicket where the tellers stand. " I never," said 
 Lord Eowton, " knew of a brooding mutiny come 
 to a head after the Chief had walked out of the 
 Lobby arm-in-arm with the leading spirit." 
 
 Nor did Disraeli limit his blandishments to 
 his own party. I have personal knowledge of two 
 captures made from the enemy's camp. One was 
 Joseph Cowen, a man of letters, one of the few 
 natural orators heard at Westminster in modern 
 times. A Eadical of extreme type, whose sym- 
 pathies went out to struggling nationalities wher- 
 ever they were in revolt against tyranny, Cowen 
 naturally ranged himself on the side of Gladstone 
 when, in 1874, the Liberal Premier asked for re- 
 newal of office. As a youth he had met the great 
 statesman at the house of his father during the 
 campaign of 1868. His newspaper, one of the 
 most influential in the north of England, helped 
 to keep Northumberland faithful to the Liberal 
 flag when all around it fortresses were falling. 
 Eeturned in 1874 to represent his native town, 
 remembering former acquaintance with his father's 
 guest, Cowen, on entering the House, naturally 
 
412 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 expected some recognition from his venerated 
 Leader. Gladstone, coming upon him in the 
 Lobby, passed him without a sign. It was a 
 small event, but recollection of it rankled. Dizzy- 
 may or may pot have heard of it. He certainly 
 was at pains to make the acquaintance of the 
 member for Newcastle, and succeeded in turning 
 what might have been a faithful follower of the 
 Liberal Leader into an exceedingly embarrassing 
 adversary. 
 
 The other true story shows Dizzy in his serio- 
 comic mood. In the Parliament of 1874-80 there 
 was a pompous, preposterous little Irish member 
 known as Dr. O'Leary. When the Premier was 
 conducting through the House the Imperial Titles 
 Bill which transformed his Queen into Empress, 
 he strained every nerve to add extraneous votes 
 to the assured Ministerial majority. The Irish 
 members were, in accordance with traditional 
 habit, "ag'in' the Ministry." But the question 
 was not one that directly affected Ireland. By 
 taking thought, he might seduce one or two into 
 the Ministerial Lobby. His eye falling on Dr. 
 O'Leary, he with quick intuition saw his chance. 
 On the critical eve of the second reading of the 
 Bill he came upon the Doctor strolling down the 
 corridor on his way to the Tea-Koom. Overtaking 
 him, he laid a hand on his shoulder with friendly 
 pressure and exclaimed, "My dear Doctor, how 
 you remind me of my old friend Tom Moore ! As 
 I walked behind you just now the resemblance 
 
THIETY-SIX YEARS AT WBSTMINSTEE 413 
 
 was startling." That won the trick. The member 
 for Drogheda voted for the Government on the 
 Royal Titles Bill. 
 
 John Bright had temporarily retired from 
 parliamentary life when I entered upon it. He 
 came back in 1874. But he was never more 
 the man whose oratory charmed and convinced the 
 House during the prolonged struggle round the 
 standard of parliamentary reform. He did not 
 through the first session of the Disraelian Parlia- 
 ment break the silence of many years. He was 
 content to sit at the lower end of the bench in 
 companionship with Gladstone on his fitful ap- 
 pearances. His interposition in parliamentary 
 afiairs on coming back to the old scene was 
 characteristic. Dr. Kenealy, returned as member 
 for Stoke-on-Trent on the crest of the strange wave 
 of public enthusiasm which, in 1880, lifted high the 
 champion of the Claimant to the Tichborne estates, 
 presented himself to take the oath and his seat. 
 In accordance with the Standing Order, it is 
 necessary for a member coming up after a by- 
 election to be introduced by two others. Whalley, 
 the eccentric member for Peterborough, was ready 
 with his services. No other would associate him- 
 self with the advocate of Arthur Orton, the 
 slanderer of his Judges. Help came from an 
 unexpected quarter. John Bright, rising from 
 the Front Opposition Bench, said that out of 
 deference to the will of the large constituency who 
 had elected Kenealy he would himself, if the hon. 
 
iU SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 member would accept his companionsHp, be glad 
 to walk with him to the table. So, between the 
 great Tribune and the half-crazy member for 
 Peterborough, Kenealy, hat in one hand, a stout 
 umbrella in the other, walked up to the table 
 and took the oath. 
 
 Among several fables to which in the wanton- 
 ness of youth I gave birth was one which appeared 
 at the time in the parliamentary sketch that had 
 wide vogue in the World, then recently founded 
 by Edmund Yates, to the effect that whilst Kenealy 
 took the oath he hung his umbrella by its generous 
 crook on the neck of the Mace. The story became 
 part of accepted parliamentary history. The pro- 
 saic fact is that, when he reached forth his hand 
 to take the form of oath handed him by the clerk, 
 Kenealy leaned his gingham against the table on 
 which the Mace reposed. I excuse myself with 
 the reflection that it is not every flight of fancy 
 that has even that substratum of fact. 
 
 It was noticed that when Bright unexpectedly 
 interposed in the Kenealy affair he was as confused 
 as a young member making his maiden speech. 
 He, the great master of phraseology, halted and 
 stumbled among the words that forced themselves 
 through his lips. For a moment there seemed 
 danger of his utterly breaking down. He never 
 quite got over this kind of paralysis through the 
 remainder of his parliamentary second life. On a 
 night in June, in the session of 1877, I observed 
 him seated on the Front Opposition Bench hour 
 
THIETY-SIX YBAES AT WE8TMINSTEE 415 
 
 after hour. The subject was a proposal to abolish 
 capital punishment. He evidently intended to 
 speak, and of course might have chosen his own 
 time. He missed chance after chance, deferring 
 his rising till after midnight, when the debate was 
 about to collapse. Chancing to meet him at dinner 
 the next night, I made some remark about his 
 delayed interposition. He told me there had 
 come back upon him the species of stage fright 
 that possesses all new members on first addressing 
 the House. 
 
 Even Mr. Gladstone was in his time subject 
 to this influence. This would be incredible to 
 observers of his later manner were it not affirmed 
 by his own testimony. In the diary of his second 
 session he records how, preparatory to making a 
 speech, he silently " offered earnest prayer for 
 Divine assistance." 
 
 Keturning after long absence imposed by broken 
 health, Bright frequently, as in this debate on the 
 abolition of capital punishment, came down pre- 
 pared to take part in the discussion. When a 
 favourable moment arrived, the Speaker turning 
 a friendly eye upon him and pausing a moment 
 in expectation of his rising, he was possessed by 
 a shiver of apprehension. While he hesitated the 
 chance passed. Once on his feet facing the familiar 
 scene, cheered by welcoming voices, trepidation 
 vanished.. He was as calm, apparently as strong, 
 as of yore, equally self-possessed, and commanding 
 his audience. 
 
416 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDBENESS 
 
 Another parliamentary star whose lustre was 
 dimmed when I came under its influence was 
 Eobert Lowe. Like Bright, he reached his fullest 
 height in the storm and stress of Reform Bill 
 debate in 1867. For some years later he re- 
 mained an intellectual delight. He had more 
 than one physical shortcoming that would have 
 barred the pathway of success to a man of less 
 supreme capacity. He had a harsh voice, faulty 
 enunciation, eyesight so dimmed that when con- 
 sulting his notes he had to hold them so close 
 to his face as to hide it. His speech sparkled 
 with wit, the flashes being sometimes dimmed 
 by the shamefaced hurry with which they were 
 produced. 
 
 I recall one example of Lowe's ready wit. The 
 House was discussing an Endowed Schools Bill. 
 Lord Sandon, joining in the controversy, delivered 
 a bitter speech aimed at the Endowed Schools 
 Commissioners, Before sitting down, it occurring 
 to him that he might have gone too far in assault 
 on constituted authority, he remarked that he had 
 "carefully fenced himself" against being under- 
 stood to pass unfriendly criticism upon the com- 
 missioner. Lowe, following, quoted the remark 
 with the commentary, "There has been in the 
 noble lord's speech much more of railing than of 
 fencing." 
 
 Lowe's last appearance on the parliamentary 
 stage was one of the most tragic episodes played 
 upon it. In the spring of 1879 the Liberal 
 
THIETY-SIX YEAES AT WESTMINSTEE 417 
 
 Opposition in both Houses plucked up courage to 
 move a vote of censure on the Government. On 
 the third day of the debate Lowe interposed, and 
 the House filled in anticipation of an intellectual 
 treat. For twenty minutes he spoke with his 
 usual felicity, his accustomed command over his 
 audience. Citation of extracts from the Blue 
 Books at this stage becoming necessary to his 
 argument, he took up a bundle of notes placed on 
 the brass-bound box at the opening of his speech. 
 Sheet after sheet of the manuscript was held 
 within an inch of his eyebrows. None was the 
 one he wanted. Failing to find the quotation, he 
 lamely attempted to quote its substance. A few 
 minutes later reference to his notes again became 
 necessary. Amid sympathetic cheers from both 
 sides he nervously searched among the hopeless 
 conglomeration. He could not find the note he 
 sought, and after a painful pause abruptly resumed 
 his seat. 
 
 He never again spoke in a chamber still filled 
 with the echo of many brilliant triumphs. In the 
 following year, the Liberals coming into office, he 
 meekly sought sanctuary in the House of Lords, 
 where, till death finally sealed his lips, he sat 
 mute, disguised as Lord Sherbrooke. 
 
 Since I first knew the House of Commons the 
 methods of procedure and the style of debate have 
 greatly altered. Obviously the latter is a sequence 
 of the former. Thirty-six years ago the Speaker took 
 the Chair at four o'clock. Questions began half 
 
 2 E 
 
418 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENBSS 
 
 an hour later, the progress of interrogation fre-^ 
 quently extending to six o'clock. Then, as now, 
 the text of questions was printed on a paper in 
 the hand of every Member. Nevertheless, in ac- 
 cordance with immemorial custom, the Member 
 mercilessly read aloud every word of his question. 
 The Irish Members beginning to fall into line 
 under the command of Parnell, shrewd Joseph 
 GUlis Biggar perceived this opportunity of ob- 
 structing business. He incited his colleagues 
 to put down questions by the score, making them 
 as lengthy as possible, as controversial as the super- 
 vision of the Speaker permitted. 
 
 That is a pleasing habit by no means un- 
 familiar at the present day. But in the seventies 
 and the early sessions of the eighties, obstruction 
 had another weapon in its armoury. In those happy 
 times, there was nothing to prevent a small but 
 active clique, whether it was called the Fourth 
 Party or belonged to the Parnellite faction, from 
 getting up a wrangle over a Ministerial answer to 
 a question, and moving the adjournment in order 
 to discuss the matter at length. To-day leave is 
 occasionally given to move the adjournment, the 
 privilege being unhampered by the absolutely 
 futile condition that the request shall be supported 
 by forty Members. But such motion may not be 
 made till the close of the Question hour, and if 
 permission be extorted by the necessary support, 
 debate may not open till after the dinner hour, 
 leaving the ordinary course of business undisturbed. 
 
THIETY-SIX YEARS AT WESTMINSTER dl9 
 
 On one of the earliest days of the Parliament 
 of 1880 Mr. Frank Hugh O'Donnell, scarcely veil- 
 ing under form of a Question an attack on the 
 newly appointed French Minister to the Court of 
 St, James, met remonstrance by moving the ad- 
 journment. This happened at five o'clock in the 
 afternoon, midway in the list of Questions. A row 
 ensued prolonged till one o'clock the next morning, 
 when, Mr. O'Donnell retiring in a state of physical 
 exhaustion, the subject dropped, and the Speaker 
 gravely called on the next Question on the 
 paper. 
 
 One result of this state of things was to pre- 
 vent the cream of debate rising till after the dinner 
 hour, an arrangement that involved late sittings. 
 To-day, with the House master of its own time, 
 questions are disposed of and Orders of the Day 
 entered upon not later than four o'clock. Debate 
 automatically closes at eleven. The great guns 
 are fired ofi' as early as possible, invariably before 
 dispersal for dinner. In former times, with the 
 length of sitting unlimited by the Standing Orders, 
 the real business of debate did not begin earlier 
 than ten o'clock, when Members began to stream 
 back from dinner. When Disraeli and Gladstone 
 faced each other across the Table it was a common 
 thing for the Leader of the Opposition to rise at 
 eleven o'clock to wind up a critical debate, talk for 
 an hour and a half, and leave the Leader to reply 
 at similar or greater length, regardless of the glow- 
 ing dawn. In altered circumstances the style of 
 
420 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 speech-making becomes wholly different. Then 
 men " orated ; " now they talk. 
 
 A distinctive feature of the twentieth-century 
 House of Commons is the disappearance of the 
 orator. Time was, at and since the period of Pitt 
 and Fox, when the House of Commons was a stage 
 from which eminent men delivered elaborate dis- 
 courses. Within my comparatively brief experience 
 a great change has been wrought in this respect. 
 There are able men in the present Parliament; 
 there is not one who poses as an orator. New 
 times, above all new Kules of Procedure, make 
 new manners. There really is not time now for 
 a man to lay himself out for a two hours' speech, 
 as was a common custom so recently as a quarter 
 of a century ago. With the House meeting in 
 the afternoon at a quarter to three and abruptly 
 closing debate at eleven, there is little room for 
 such elaborate performance. 
 
 Moreover, the habit of Members in respect of 
 debate is changed. Time was when 660 Members 
 were content to form an audience enraptured by 
 the eloquence of eight or ten. Now with special 
 wires feeding local papers, every Member feels 
 called upon to deliver a certain number of remarks 
 on important bills or resolutions brought before 
 the House. The average Member finds more satis- 
 faction in talking than in listening. This, com- 
 bined with a disposition to regard progress of 
 legislative business as of more importance than 
 flowers of oratory, completes the change of fashion. 
 
THIETY-SIX YEAES AT WESTMINSTEE 421 
 
 In these prosaic days, a Member, however eminent, 
 rising with evident intent of delivering a set oration, 
 would first be stared at, then left to discourse to 
 himself, the Speaker, and an admiring family group 
 in the Ladies' Gallery. 
 
 I remember in days that are no more a quite 
 different state of things. In the seventies, even 
 in the eighties, there were giants of oratory. Glad- 
 stone was the last survival. Even he towards the 
 end of his career was influenced by the newer turn 
 of thought which dominated Parliamentary debate. 
 He could not help being eloquent when deeply 
 moved. But he was more direct in his methods, 
 less voluminous in his speech. 
 
 In his prime, in a great debate when political 
 parties were set in battle array, Gladstone's tran- 
 scendent oratorical gifts had full play. There was 
 marked contrast in his manner of making a speech 
 and of answering a question addressed to him in 
 his Ministerial capacity. After purporting to make 
 reply and taking some ten minutes to do it, he 
 sat down, frequently leaving his interrogator and 
 the House in a condition of dismayed bewilder- 
 ment, hopelessly attempting to grope their way 
 through the intricacies of the sonorous sentences 
 they had listened to. If, as happened in expound- 
 ing a bill or replying to a debate, he desired to 
 make himself understood, he had no equal. 
 
 His manner in speech-making was more strongly 
 marked by action than was that of his only rival, 
 John Bright. He emphasised points by smiting 
 
422 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 the open palm of his left hand with sledge-hammer 
 fist. Sometimes he, with gleaming eyes — " like a 
 vulture's," Mr. Lecky genially described them, — 
 pointed his forefinger straight at his adversary. 
 In hottest moments he beat the brass-bound Box 
 with clamorous hand that occasionally drowned the 
 point he strove to make. Sometimes with both 
 hands raised above his head ; often with left elbow 
 leaning on the Box, right hand with closed fist 
 shaken at the head of an unoffending country 
 gentleman on the back bench opposite ; anon, 
 standing half a step back from the Table, left 
 hand hanging at his side, right uplifted, so that 
 he might with thumb-nail lightly touch the shining 
 crown of his head, he trampled his way through 
 the argument he assailed as an elephant in an hour 
 of aggravation rages through a jungle. 
 
 Disraeli lacked two qualities, failing which 
 true eloquence is impossible. He was never quite 
 in earnest, and he was not troubled by dominating 
 conviction. Only on the rarest occasions did he 
 affect to be roused to righteous indignation, and 
 then he was rather amusing than impressive. He 
 was endowed with a lively fancy and cultivated 
 the art of coining phrases, generally personal in 
 their bearing. When these were flashed forth he 
 delighted the House. For the rest, at the period 
 I knew him, when he had grown respectable and 
 was weighted with responsibility, he was often 
 dull. There were, indeed, in the course of a 
 session few things more dreary than a long speech 
 
THIETY-SIX YEARS AT WBSTMINSTEE 423 
 
 from Dizzy. At short, sharp replies to questions 
 designed to be embarrassing he was effective. 
 When it came to a long speech, the lack of 
 stamina was disclosed, and the House listened to 
 something which, if not occasionally incompre- 
 hensible, was frequently involved. 
 
 When he rose to speak he rested his hands for 
 a moment on the Box — only for a moment, for he 
 invariably endeavoured to gain the ear of his 
 audience by making a brilliant point in an opening 
 sentence. The attitude he found most conducive 
 to happy delivery was to stand balancing himself 
 on heel and toe with hands in his coat-tail pockets. 
 In this pose, with head hung down as if he were 
 mentally debating how best to express a thought 
 just born to him, he slowly uttered the polished 
 and poisoned sentences, over which he had spent 
 laborious hours in the study. The merest tyro 
 knew a moment beforehand when Disraeli was 
 approaching what he regarded as the most effective 
 opening for dropping the gem of phrase he made- 
 believe to have just dug up from an unvisited 
 corner of his mind. He saw him lead up to it; 
 he noted the disappearance of the hand in the 
 direction of the coat-tail pocket, sometimes in 
 search of a pocket-handkerchief brought out and 
 shaken with careless air, most often to extend the 
 coat-tails, whilst, with body gently rocked to and 
 fro and an affected hesitancy of speech, the bon 
 mot was flashed forth. Not being a born orator, 
 but as a keen observer knowing the necessity 
 
424 SIXTY YEAE8 IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 noted by Hamlet in Ids advice to the playera of 
 accompanying voice by action, he performed a 
 series of bodily jerks as remote from the natural 
 gestures of the true orator as is the waddling of 
 a duck across a stubble field from the progress 
 of a swan over the bosom of a lake. 
 
 John Bright, perhaps the finest orator known 
 to the House of Commons in the last half of the 
 nineteenth century, was morally and politically 
 the antithesis of Disraeli. Before, in the closing 
 years of a long life, he reached the unexpected 
 haven of community with the Conservative Party 
 on the question of Home Eule, political animosity 
 passed by no ditch through the mire of which it 
 might drag him. But it never accused him of 
 speaking with an uncertain sound, of denouncing 
 to-day what yesterday he upheld. To a public 
 man this atmosphere of acknowledged sincerity 
 and honest conviction is a mighty adjunct of 
 power. To it Bright added airy graces of oratory. 
 He kept himself well in hand throughout his 
 speech, never losing his hold upon his audience. 
 His gestures were of the fewest, but, unlike 
 Disraeli's, they were appropriate because natural. 
 A simple wave of the right hand, and the point 
 of his sentence was emphasised. Nature gifted 
 him with a fine presence and a voice the like of 
 which has rarely rung through the classic chamber, 
 "Like a beU," was the illustration commonly 
 employed in any endeavour to convey an im- 
 pression of its music. I should say like a peal 
 
THIETY-SIX YBAES AT WESTMINSTEE 425 
 
 of bells, for a single one could not produce the 
 varied tones in which Bright suited his voice to 
 his theme. 
 
 On the whole the dominant note was one of 
 pathos. Probably because aU his great speeches 
 pleaded for the cause of the oppressed or denounced 
 an accomplished wrong, a tone of melancholy ran 
 through them. For the expression of pathos there 
 were marvellously touching vibrations in his voice 
 which carried to the listener's heart the tender 
 thoughts that came glowing from the speaker's, 
 clad in simple words as they passed his tongue. 
 
 When I first knew the House no speech in full- 
 dress debate was regarded as complete unless it 
 were rounded off by an elaborate peroration. In 
 this competition Mr. Gladstone was easily first. 
 Disraeli also had his pet peroration. But it was 
 pompous in conception, of the tinkling-cymbal 
 order of construction. Gladstone's only com- 
 petitor in this development of oratorical art was 
 John Bright. Varying his ordinary practice of 
 delivering the main part of his speech without 
 the assistance of a note. Bright carefully wrote 
 out the text of the peroration of his great 
 speeches. He did not necessarily read from the 
 manuscript. It was at hand in case of need. 
 
 Another adornment of speeches which did not 
 survive the seventies was the introduction of 
 quotations from the classic poets. John Bright 
 in this competition " sat out," as they say of the 
 fourth player in Bridge. I am not certain if 
 
426 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDERNESS 
 
 Dizzy did not occasionally try his hand at a 
 Latin tag, though I do not remember hearing 
 him. Gladstone, with the literary wealth of 
 Athens and Kome at command, frequently gilded 
 his speech with choice extracts of the ore. Here 
 his worthy competitor was Lowe, equally facile. 
 When in forming his Budget Lowe embodied a 
 Match Tax, ruining his reputation as a financier 
 and imperilling the safety of his Government, it 
 was shrewdly suspected that he was allured by the 
 fancy which he, with almost childish delight, com- 
 municated to the House of printing on the match- 
 box stamp the motto : Ex luce lucellum. As was 
 written of one of old time, "he had his jest and 
 they [very nearly] had his estate." Lowe saved 
 his Ministerial life only by hastily abandoning 
 his Match Tax and his motto. 
 
 In House of Commons debate to-day the pero- 
 ration is as much out of fashion as are the costumes 
 worn in Goldsmith's comedies. The last halt made 
 by the vanishing custom was on Budget night. 
 Through the last quarter of the nineteenth century 
 the Chancellor of the Exchequer expounding his 
 Budget was expected to make several little jokes 
 and one serious peroration. Never on such a 
 momentous occasion did Gladstone condescend to 
 the frivolity of a jest. The sustained eloquence 
 of his peroration made up for deficiency in that 
 direction. Harcourt was the first Chancellor of 
 the Exchequer systematically to flash over arid 
 wastes of Eevenue returns the light of humour. 
 
THIRTY-SIX YEAES AT WESTMINSTER 427 
 
 His example was followed by such unexpected 
 practitioners as Mr. G-osclien and Sir Michael 
 Hicks-Beach. In the twentieth century, little 
 jokes — the most telling relate to the fluctuating 
 sale of rum and the yield of the Death Duties — 
 are still made by the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 on his annual field night. But, like the harp that 
 once through Tara's halls the soul of music shed, 
 the Peroration is mute. 
 
 Another marked change wrought by the hand 
 of time in the habits of the House of Commons 
 relates to dress. I have a precious print which 
 shows the House of Commons assembled in the 
 session of 1821. Members are seated in the old 
 House dimly lit by candelabra pendant from the 
 roof. It is the most appallingly respectable 
 assembly I ever set eyes upon. Neither whisker 
 nor moustache varies the grimness of the sedate 
 countenances. All are dressed alike with high 
 coat collar, stock carried up to chin, trousers cut 
 tight to the leg and drawn over the instep by a 
 strap. I showed the print one day to Frank Lock- 
 wood, beloved equally of the Bar and Parliament, 
 a man who carried an irrepressible sense of humour 
 to the length of having in the same session served 
 in succession as Solicitor-General in Lord Kose- 
 bery's Government and in that of the Marquis of 
 Salisbury. 
 
 " How decorously dull ! " he exclaimed, regard- 
 ing the scene with quick interest. " How porten- 
 tously respectable ! There does not seem to be a 
 
428 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 single Irisli Member among them ; nor," he added, 
 running his eye again over the crowded benches, 
 " even a lawyer." 
 
 Sir James Fergusson, Postmaster- General in the 
 Second Sal^bury Administration, told me he re- 
 membered a time when no Member of the House 
 of Commons who respected himself and his con- 
 stituency sat in the presence of the Speaker with- 
 out wearing gloves. Sir James, elected Member 
 for Ayrshire whilst he was fighting in the Crimea, 
 entered the House in 1854, and was from that point 
 of calculation nineteen years my senior. I never 
 saw the gloves, but I have distinct remembrance 
 of the Sunday-go-to-meeting sartorial style of 
 M.Ps. in the seventies. Every one was black- 
 coated and, of course, top-hatted. One named 
 Monk, who sat for Gloucester session after session, 
 created a sensation, on the whole painful, by pre- 
 senting himself on sultry days in a dove-coloured 
 suit. It is true his late father had been a Bishop, 
 but it was felt that he was rather imposing on the 
 distinction. 
 
 I distinctly remember another shock sufiiered by 
 the House when Lord Eandolph Churchill entered 
 wearing a pair of tan shoes. The Fourth Party 
 was then at the height of its impudence, the pleni- 
 tude of its power. Its young leader had, for 
 months, alternately bullied the Prime Minister and 
 tweaked the nose of the Leader of the Opposition. 
 These things had been suflfered, not gladly, it is 
 true, but in recognition of impotence to withstand 
 
THIETY-SIX YBAES AT WESTMINSTEE 429 
 
 them. This tan shoes atrocity was, on both sides 
 of the House, felt to be going literally a step 
 too far. 
 
 At this date it is curious to reflect upon these 
 dead-and-gone emotions. On sultry afternoons 
 the benches of the twentieth-century House of 
 Commons present an appearance suggestive of 
 Henley on Regatta day. The cylindrical silk hat, 
 which, within the memory of the present Speaker, 
 was regarded in the light of one of the pillars that 
 sustain the British Constitution, is rarely seen. 
 Straw hats, Homburg hats, and the common 
 bowler have rudely shunted its solemnity. A 
 working-man Member, returned for the first time 
 to the present Parliament, beat the record by 
 presenting himself in a soft brown wide-awake, 
 the rim of which is in size and proportions planned 
 on the scale of the sloping roof of a Swiss chalet. 
 As for clothes, anything will do, the lighter in 
 colour, the less conventional in cut, the better. 
 The absence of a waistcoat is amply atoned for by 
 the presence of a cummerbund. 
 
 It was by the last Parliament elected in the 
 reign of Queen Victoria — the first King Edward VII. 
 opened in person — that this revolution was com- 
 pleted. With it came in with a rush the fashion 
 of Tea on the Terrace. That such things were 
 accomplished under the genial, happy-go-lucky 
 Premiership of Mr. Arthur Balfour is a circum- 
 stance in which some critics may find a moral. 
 The function of Tea on the Terrace was a natural 
 
430 SIXTY YBAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 result of the state of things existing in the first five 
 years of the new century. Mr. Balfour had at 
 his command an overwhelming, up to the time 
 of Mr. Chamberlain's excursion into the field of 
 Protection, a united and docile majority. The 
 last thing demanded from them was contribution 
 to debate. Votes, not talk, was what was looked 
 for from their loyalty. They could not be expected 
 to sit silent hour after hour listening to honourable 
 gentlemen opposite, nor could they be trusted to 
 remain at hand in the library or smoking-room. 
 With quick intuition the Whips saw the possi- 
 bilities of an afternoon function to which ladies 
 contributed the charm of their presence. Tea on 
 the Terrace was accordingly encouraged in high 
 quarters. London society eagerly swallowed the 
 bait, and the worried Whips were soothed by the 
 knowledge that at the sound of the Division bell 
 a battalion of Ministerialists would saUy from the 
 Terrace to resist the machinations of the Opposition 
 trying to rush an unexpected Division. 
 
 Not least thorough in the changes wrought in 
 the House of Commons during the last three 
 decades is that afiecttug the personnel and the 
 position of the Irish Party. When, in 1874, they 
 came in with a rush, they were like a string of 
 gamins breaking in on the sanctity of a Cathe- 
 dral close. The deeply rooted traditions of the 
 House of Commons imposing discipline and almost 
 abject submission to the authority of the Chair, 
 were defied. The authority of the Speaker in 
 
THIETY-SIX YEAES AT WESTMINSTEE 431 
 
 pre-Parnellite days is accurately indicated by 
 the old story of a threat to " name " an offending 
 Member. 
 
 " And what would happen if you had done it ? " 
 one privily asked the Speaker. 
 
 "Heaven only knows," answered the right 
 honourable gentleman. 
 
 For generations a vague, obscure threat had 
 sufficed to subdue the most reckless misdoer. 
 Before Parnell and Mr. Biggar had been long to 
 the fore, it became necessary to enact a standing 
 order attaching definite penalties as a consequence 
 of the Speaker performing the ancient rite of 
 "naming" a Member. 
 
 Mr. Butt, himself an old Parliamentary hand, 
 was in the first session of the Disraelian Parlia- 
 ment so deeply imbued with the traditions of the 
 House that he shrank from direct conflict with 
 the Chair, There came a night when he, once 
 the popular idol of the Nationalist Party, in sight 
 of a full House quitted the Irish camp below the 
 gangway to the left of the Speaker, seating himself 
 in the serener quarter above it, Parnell there- 
 upon, with the assistance of his grotesque, honest, 
 delightfully original lieutenant, Joseph Gillis 
 Biggar, took command, entering upon a campaign 
 which before his fall transmuted the Parliamentary 
 atmosphere, transformed its methods of procedure. 
 The evolution of these two was one of the most 
 remarkable, not the least momentous, episodes in 
 the Parliamentary life of the last thirty years. 
 
432 SIXTY YEAES IN THE WILDEENESS 
 
 One, a Cambridge man, of aristocratic birth ; the 
 other, a provision dealer from Belfast, uncultured, 
 uncouth. The two extremes were drawn together 
 by common hatred of the Saxon, stern resolve to 
 smite him in his most sacred temple. 
 
 At the outset they were singularly unfitted for 
 the self-appointed task. Neither had that fluency 
 which is the common heritage of their countrymen. 
 They turned the disqualification into a weapon of 
 war. If, being on their legs, they could not 
 straightway hit upon the precise phrase they sought, 
 why, let the House of Commons wait till they did. 
 The interval would serve by wasting a minute of 
 public time, and in the business of obstruction 
 every little helps. Enlarging on the principle, 
 Joseph Gillis on a famous occasion held the House 
 of Commons at bay whilst in husky voice he read 
 to it extracts from a Blue Book. At a quarter to 
 nine o'clock, the entertainment having commenced 
 at five o'clock in the afternoon, his voice began to 
 fail. The Speaker, rising to order, called attention 
 to the rule requiring Members to address the Chair. 
 
 "And," he added, "the observations of the 
 honourable Member have not for some time past 
 reached me." 
 
 "Very well, sir," said genial Joey B., ever 
 ready to oblige ; " I'll come closer." 
 
 Placing his Blue Book under his arm, picking 
 up his tumbler of water, he stepped across the 
 gangway, taking up a position conveniently under 
 the hapless Speaker's left ear. 
 
THIETY-SIX YBAES AT WESTMINSTER 433 
 
 These deliberate, systematic outrages on Parlia- 
 mentary etiquette and tradition worked out the 
 redemption of the House of Commons. Up to 
 the incursion of the Parnellites, rules of pro- 
 cedure handed down from Stuart times, whilst 
 occasionally failing in their purpose, fared well 
 enough. Evidently they must be recast to meet 
 the new order of things. In the Eighties the 
 House, most unwilling to move in that direction, 
 gave up much time to reforming its ancient 
 Standing Orders. The adoption of the closure, 
 violently resented as an infringement of the privi- 
 lege of free speech, did much to deliver the 
 majority from the tyranny of the individual. The 
 automatic interruption of debate, first on the stroke 
 of midnight, now at eleven o'clock, struck at the 
 root of possible disorder by minimising the recur- 
 rence of late sittings. The appointment of Grand 
 Committees, involving a system of double labour 
 shift, largely assisted in the furtherance of work 
 achieved in a session. 
 
 As the Empire stretches its lusty limbs, the 
 burden of legislative labour increases. In this 
 twentieth century the Mother of Parliaments is 
 a weary Titan, yearning for the coming of the 
 inevitable time when her load will be lightened by 
 the devolution to local bodies of legislation on 
 local matters. 
 
 2 F 
 
INDEX 
 
 Abbas, Khedive of Egypt, 375 
 
 Abbey, Edwin A., B.A,, 220, 228 
 
 Aberdare, Lord, 404 
 
 Agnew, Miss, 229 
 
 , Phil, 229 
 
 , Sir William, at the weekly 
 
 Punch dinner, 364 ; offers Lucy 
 editorship of Punch, 398-9 ; 
 difference with Sir Francis 
 Bnmand, 400 ; entertains 
 Punch staff, 401 ; letter 
 quoted, 402; on Lucy's por- 
 trait, 403 
 
 Ainger, Cation, 394 
 
 Aird, Sir .John, 150, 153 
 
 , Lady, 153 
 
 Albert Memorial, 91 
 
 Anglo-Saxon Chronicle, 258 
 
 Anne QiouseJeeeper), 17-18 
 
 Archer, Fred, 268 
 
 Argyll, Duke of, 233, 404 ; and 
 the dog " Toots," 343 
 
 Armitstead, Mr., 311 
 
 Army and Navy Stores, 342 
 
 Arnold, Arthur, 90 
 
 Ashworth, Mr., 60-1 
 
 Asquith, H. H., KC, 233, 326 
 
 Athencewm, weekly paper, 118 
 
 Auge, M., 79 
 
 Baifotjr, Arthur J., 185, 232, 
 . 260, 263, 281, 400, 409; se- 
 cures Lucy admission to the 
 
 Lobby, 236-7; Chamberlain 
 and, 255-6; Ellen Terry on, 
 268 ; dines with political oppo- 
 nents, 282-3; his portrait, 
 285-6 ; and Campbell-Banner- 
 man, 326 ; presides at farewell 
 dinner to Tenniel, 380; his 
 geniality, 429-30 
 
 Beaconsfield, Lord, 188, 263, 288, 
 419; his "Lothair," 93; rela- 
 tions with Lord Rowton, 189 ; 
 his foreign policy, 300 ; declines 
 Premiership, 321, 408; con- 
 trasted with Mr. Gladstone, 
 408, 410; distrusted by his 
 party, 409; his tact, 410-11; 
 his oratory, 422-6 
 
 , Lady, 189-190 
 
 Becket, Arthur a, 366 
 
 , Gilbert I, 365; death of, 
 
 366-7; suggests the cartoon 
 " Dropping the Pilot," 367 
 
 Beefsteak Club, 265 
 
 "Behind the Speaker's Chair, 
 From," 238, 350-2 
 
 Bentinck, Cavendish, 409 
 
 , George ("Big Ben"), 409 
 
 Bentley, George, 117 
 
 Beresford, Lord Charles, 293 ; 
 his semaphore message, 98- 
 100; on Fred Burnaby, 160-2 
 ;ar, J. G., 418; obstructing 
 the House, 431-2 
 
436 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Birkett, Captain, 192-3 
 
 Birmingham Morning News, 102 
 
 Bismarck, Prince, 306-7; Mr. 
 Gladstone on, 209 ; "Dropping 
 the Pilot " cartoon, 367 
 
 Black, William, at the Reform 
 Club, 167-8; letters quoted, 
 169-171 
 
 Blossom, Mr., 27-8, 34-5 
 
 Bowles, Thomas Gibson (" Cap'en 
 Tommy " in Punck), 378-9 
 
 Bowman, Mr., oculist, 239 
 
 Bradbury, William, 49 ; enter- 
 tains Punch staff, 364-5 
 
 and Agnew, 357, 364 
 
 Brand, Mr. Speaker, 238 
 
 Bright, John, 139, 142, 255, 421 ; 
 Labouchere on, 143 ; and the 
 Home Bale Bill, 146; letter 
 quoted, 146-7 ; Gladstone on, 
 293-5 ; anecdotes of, 413-415 ; 
 his brilliant oratory, 424-5 
 
 Broadwood, Col., 317-19 
 
 Brocklehurst, Mrs., 358 
 
 Brooks, Shirley, 220, 368, 373; 
 " Essence of Parhament," 353- 
 5, 359 ; and Linley Sambonme, 
 363 
 
 Bruce, Mr. (see wnder Aberdare, 
 Lord) 
 
 Bryce, James, 224, 233 ; on 
 Punch, 396 
 
 Burke, Edmund, 373 
 
 Burnaby, Fred, 155-165, 191, 
 316, 335 ; in a balloon ascent, 
 167; "Ride to Khiva," 158; 
 in the Soudan, 159 ; Lord 
 Charles Beresford on, 160-2; 
 death at Abu Klea, 162-5 
 
 Burnand, Sir Francis C, 159, 293, 
 396-403; names ''The Two 
 Pins Club," 283 ; his portrait, 
 
 285; on the "Cross Bench" 
 articles, 353-4; on "Toby's 
 Diary," 355-9; joins Pundi 
 staff, 363; editor of Punch, 
 365, 396-403 ; onDu Manrier's 
 soubriquet, 385-6; on "Trilby," 
 392-3; his sense of humour, 
 396-7; difference with pro- 
 prietors of Punch, 397-400; 
 letter quoted, 401; his por- 
 trait, 402-3 
 
 Bumham, Lord, 233 
 
 Butt, Mr., M.P., 431 
 
 Byron, Henry J., 123 ; anecdotes 
 of, 124-5 ; Our Boys play, 125 
 
 Caike, W. S., 142, 144; on the 
 
 Home Rule split, 144-7 
 Calcraft, executioner, 197-9 
 Calverley, Mr., 215 
 Camie, M. and Madame, 77-9 
 Campbell-Bannerman, Sir Henry, 
 220, 282, 321-332; letters 
 quoted, 249-250, 322-5. 328-9, 
 332 ; letter on accepting Pre- 
 miership, 322-3 ; on the Drey- 
 fus trial, 325 ; his magnanimity, 
 325-6 
 Canning, George, 302 
 Capel, Monsignor, 93 
 Cardwell, Mr., 404 
 Carr, Comyns, 172 
 Carroll, Lewis, 384-5 
 Cave, George, K.C., 123-4 
 Cavendish, Lord Frederick, 372-3 
 "Caxtoniana " Essays, 30 
 Cecil, Lord Hugh, 233, 361 
 Chamberlain, Austen, letter on 
 his father, 252-3"; and Camp- 
 bell-Bannerman, 326 
 
 , Joseph, 233 ; and the Home 
 
 Rule split, 132-3, 137-149, 
 
INDEX 
 
 437 
 
 262-3; in Mr. Gladstone's 
 Cabinet, 138 ; negotiations 
 with Gladstone, 140-9; Mr. 
 Labouchere on, 143; speech 
 quoted, 148-9; and the rejec- 
 tion of the Home Rule Bill, 
 149 ; characteristics, 252-263 ; 
 on his ambitions, 255-6 ; letters 
 quoted, 256-7, 259; and the 
 King's title, 258-9; accepts 
 dedication of Mr. Lucy's book, 
 260; and the governorship of 
 the "Cape," 261; his portrait, 
 285; and Mr. Gladstone, 347- 
 8; PhU May's sketch of, 360; 
 and « Protection," 430 
 
 Chamberlain, Mrs. Joseph, 257 
 
 Chaffers trial, 86-7 
 
 Chaplin, Henry, 329 
 
 "Chat of the Fair" Articles, 
 127 
 
 Chatto and Windus, 116 
 
 Childers, Mr., 404 
 
 Choate, J. H., 207 ; farewell 
 dinner to, 267 
 
 Choisiu, Prince of, 204 
 
 Christie's Sale Room, 336 
 
 Churchill, Lord Randolph, 158-9, 
 281; and Goschen, 238-242; 
 his portrait, 285-6 ; and Mr. 
 Gladstone, 290; in Tenniel's 
 cartoon, 378; Leader of the 
 Fourth Party, 428-9 
 
 , Winston, 378 
 
 Clarence, Duke of, 374 
 
 Clark, Sir Andrew, 294 
 
 Clemens, S. L. (" Mark Twain "), 
 220-229 ; letters quoted, 222- 
 4; on the " Obituary," 225-7; 
 entertained by King Edward 
 VII., 228; an undelivered 
 speech, 228 ; reception in 
 
 England, 228-9 ; entertained 
 by Punch, 229, 364 
 
 Clemens, Mrs., 223 
 
 Cleveland, President Grover, 95 
 
 Cockburn, Lord Chief Justice, 122 
 
 Cockran, Bourke, 210, 
 
 Coleridge, Sir John, 404 
 
 Collier, Sir Robert, 404 
 
 CoUings, Jesse, 254 ; his amend- 
 ment to the Address, 138 ; 
 Chamberlain's friend, 257 
 
 Colvile, General Sir Henry, 316- 
 320 ; in the South African 
 War, 317-19; letter quoted, 
 318-19 ; death, 320 
 
 Corelli, Marie, 343 
 
 Corlett, John, 123 
 
 Cornhill Magazine, 172 
 
 Cowen, Joseph, M.P., 124, 333; 
 his portrait, 285 ; joint pro- 
 prietor of May fair, 346 ; his 
 relations with Gladstone and 
 Disraeli, 411-12 
 
 Coxwell, Mr., 156 
 
 Craigie, Mrs. ("John Oliver 
 Hobbes "), 329 
 
 Crescent Chapel, 9, 13, 15 
 
 School, 9-13 
 
 Crewe, Earl of, 233 
 
 Cross, Viscount, 242 
 
 , John, 171 
 
 "Cross Bench" Articles, 126, 
 
 347 seg'. ; Mr. Gladstone on, 
 
 348; Edward Dicey on, 353; 
 
 Bumand on, 353-4 
 
 Crystal Palace, balloon ascent, 
 
 155-6 ; lectures, 245-8 
 Currie, Sir Donald, 303-4 
 
 Daily Express, 235 
 Daily News, reporting for, 35, 
 64 ; Lucy's engagement on. 
 
438 
 
 INDEX 
 
 91, 155-6; prosperity of, 97, 
 183-4; raises Strike Belief 
 Fund, 102 ; Lucy becomes 
 Editor of, 112-13, 129 seq. ; 
 writes " Summary " and Lon- 
 don Letter , for, 115-116 ; 
 " Pictures in Parliament," 116, 
 127, 136, 327, 354; and the 
 Home Rule Question, 131 seq. ; 
 Lucy resigns Editorship of, 
 134-5, 347 ; on the " Dunmow 
 Elitch" mcident, 150; threat- 
 ened libel action against, 180-1 ; 
 reduced price of, 183 ; its tele- 
 graphic war news, 183—4 ; Mr. 
 Gladstone and the, 311-15 
 
 Daily Telegraph, 233 
 
 D'Aubigny's "History of the 
 Eeformation," 11-12 
 
 Dawson, George, 102 
 
 De Wet, GeneraJ, 317 
 
 Denman, Lord, 233 
 
 Devonshire, Duke of (see under 
 Hartington, Lord) 
 
 " Diary of the Uniomst Parlia- 
 ment," 260 
 
 " Diary of Toby, M.P." (in Punch), 
 126, 258, 350 ; on Mr. Glad- 
 stone, 315 ; origin of the title, 
 355-7 ; illustration of, 359- 
 360 ; first appearance of, 364 
 
 Dicey, Edward, 347; on the 
 " Cross Bench " Articles, 353 
 
 Dickens, Charles, his geniality, 
 87-8 ; FoTSter's "Life of," 89; 
 Editor of Daily News, 100; 
 Editor of Eousehold Words, 
 171 ; and Rochester, 179-181 ; 
 American appreciation of, 215- 
 216; compared with Thacke- 
 ray, 390 
 
 , Charles (.Junior), 88, 90 
 
 Dilke, Sir Charles, 233 
 
 Disestablishment of the Church in 
 Scotland Bill, 112 
 
 Disraeli, Benjamin (see tmder 
 Beaconsfield, Lord) 
 
 Dissentient Liberals, 139 ; origin 
 of the name, 132 ; Home Kule 
 Bill thrown out by, 149 
 
 Dodgson, Mr., 384-5 
 
 Doetsch, Henry, 159, 335-6 
 
 Doubleday, E. N., 222 
 
 Douglas, Admiral, 195 
 
 , Akers, 382-3 
 
 , Lady, 195 
 
 Doyle, SirA. C, 228 
 
 , Richard, 377, 384-5 
 
 Draper, Henry, 30 
 
 Drew, Rev. Harry, 308 
 
 Dreyfus Trial, 325 
 
 "Dropping the Pilot" cartoon, 
 367 
 
 Du Manner, George (" Kiki "), 
 221, 293, 369, 371, 396 ; and 
 Doetsch's pictures, 335-6 ; joins 
 Punch staff, 363 ; Lucy's first 
 meeting with, 366 ; and Sir John 
 Tenniel, 377-395; origin of 
 his soubriquet, 385 seq. ; death 
 of, 388 ; letter on Leech 
 quoted, 389-391 ; as a conver- 
 sationaUst, 392 ; Bumand on 
 his "Trilby," 392-3; his suc- 
 cess as author, 394 ; failing 
 health, 394 ; his funeral, 394-5 
 
 Dufferin, Lord, 404 
 
 Dunmow Flitch, 150-4 
 
 Durouf, M. and Madame, aero- 
 nauts, 155-7 
 
 Dymoud, Mr., 74 
 
 " Echo " newspaper, 90 
 
 Edward VH., H.M. King, his 
 
INDEX 
 
 439 
 
 title, 258; Mr. Gladstone on, 
 299; opening his first Parlia- 
 ment, 429 
 
 Eliot, George, 171 
 
 Endowed Schools Bill, 416 
 
 Enquirer, newspaper, 183 
 
 Essays <md Reviews, 85 
 
 " Essence of Parliament," 354-5, 
 358-9 
 
 Evangelical Magazine, 32 
 
 Evarts, Mr., 95 
 
 Exeter Gazette, 84-6 
 
 Eyre, Governor, trial of, C3-4 
 
 Feegussox, Sik James, 428 
 Fletcher, Moulton, KG., 233 
 Forbes, Archibald, 97; on Fred 
 
 Burnaby , 162-5 ; in the Franco- 
 German War, 184 
 Ford, Mr., 96 
 Forster, Sir Charles, 262 
 , W. E., 89, 372; Life of, 
 
 168 ; at the Reform Club, 
 
 172-3 
 Fourth Party, 428 
 Fowler, Sir Henry, 233 
 Fox, Charles James, 420 
 France, Eugenie, Ex-Empress of, 
 
 80 
 , Napoleon III., Emperor of, 
 
 80-1 
 
 , Prince Imperial, 80 
 
 , Richard Samuel, 56-62 
 
 " From Behind the Speaker's 
 
 Chair," 238, 350-2 
 Furniss, Harry, 293 ; illustrates 
 
 " Toby's Diary," 359 ; on the 
 
 Punch staff, 364 
 " Fussie," dog, 268-270 
 Fyfe, Mr., 82-4 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine, 120, 353 
 Germany, Emperor of, 303, 305 
 " Gideon Pleyce," novel, 116 
 Giffard, Sir Hardinge (see under 
 
 Halsbury, Lord) 
 Gilder, Mr., 222 
 Gladstone, Miss May, 290 
 
 , Mrs. W. E., 290, 308, 311; 
 
 attentions to her husband, 291 
 
 , Herbert, 138, 292 
 
 , W. E., 260, 281, 287-315, 
 
 321,328, 404, 411, 419, 427; 
 and Home Rule, 94, 131-2, 
 137-8 ; on Lucy's London 
 Letter, 112 ; on sleep, 133, 295 ; 
 and the Liberal Unionist Party,' 
 139 ; Mr. Chamberlain and the 
 Home Rule Bill, 140-9, 262-3 ; 
 Mr. Labouchere on, 143 ; on 
 the use of time, 216; offers 
 Speakership to Goschen, 238- 
 240; appoints Goschen Am- 
 bassador Extraordinary at Con- 
 stantinople, 241 ; Midlothian' 
 campaigns, 288-9 ; at Lord 
 Rosebery'a, 290-1 ; on Bright's 
 neglected health, 293-5; on 
 Homer, 295 ; sitting to Millais 
 296 ; his memory, 296-8, 301-^ 
 2 ; on Americans, 298-9 ; on 
 the Prince of Wales (King 
 Edward VII.), 299 ; on modern 
 caricatures, 300 ; election anec- 
 dotes, 302-3 ; on the Tantallon 
 Castle to the opening of the 
 Kiel Canal, 303-12 ; speech to 
 Hamburgers, 308-9; in a col- 
 lision at sea, 310-11 ; learning 
 Danish, 313 ; letter quoted, 
 314-15; on Lucy's "Cross 
 Bench " article, 348 ; on Lord 
 Frederick Cavendish, 372; in 
 
440 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Termiers cartoon, 378 ; and 
 Tenniel's knighthood, 384 ; con- 
 templates retirement in 1874, 
 405; his reappearance in Par- 
 liament, 406-7, 413 ; contrasted 
 with Disraeli, 408-413; his 
 nervousness, 415; his oratory, 
 421-2, 425-6 
 
 Glaisher, Mr., 156 
 
 " Glen," dog, 337-9, 345 
 
 Globe, newspaper, 85, 87 ; editor 
 of, 84 
 
 Gordon, General, 160-5, 374 
 
 Gordon-Cumming, Sir William, 
 164 
 
 Goschen, G. J., 139, 405, 427 ; de- 
 clines the Speakership, 238- 
 244 ; Ambassador Extraordi- 
 nary at Constantinople, 241 ; 
 becomes a Conservative, 241 ; 
 Chancellor of the Exchequer, 
 242 ; letter on Punch quoted, 
 242-3 ; on audiences, 243-4 
 
 Gough, Fred, 25 
 
 Gould, F. C, 352 
 
 Granville, Lord, 293, 297, 404; 
 letter from Gladstone, 405 
 
 Oraphic, newspaper, 115 
 
 Greely, Lieut., 291 
 
 , Horace, 95 
 
 Greenwood, Frederick, 82-3 
 
 Grey, Sir Edward, 233 
 
 Grosvenor Gallery, 285 
 
 Gully, Mr. Speaker, 312 
 
 Haldaue, B. B., 233 
 
 Halshury, Lord, 63-4 
 
 Hammond, Mr., 1 
 
 Hanging scenes, 196-9 
 
 Harcourt, Sir William, 282-3; 
 letters quoted, 245-7; resigns 
 Premiership, 322; and Ten- 
 
 niel's knighthood, 384; his 
 Budget speeches, 426-7 
 
 Hardman, Sir William, 95 
 
 Hart, Ernest, 386 
 
 Hartington,Lord,138-140, 145-8, 
 261, 328, 405; and the rejec- 
 tion of the Home Kule Bill, 
 149 ; in Tenniel's cartoon, 378 ; 
 Leader of the House, 406 
 
 Hay, John, 214^15 
 
 , Mrs., 214 
 
 Hayes, Dr., 206 
 
 Hayne, Seal, 348-9 
 
 Hayter, Sir Arthur, 233 
 
 Henty, George, 104-7 
 
 Herkomer, Prof. Hubert, 228 
 
 Herschell, Lord, 143-4, 147 
 
 Hervey, Colonel, 211, 222 
 
 Hicks-Beach, Sir Michael, 427 
 
 Hill, Frank, 126, 129, 130 
 
 Home Bule Bill, 137-140; second 
 reading of, 140, 148 ; Mr. 
 Chamberlain and the, 140-149 ; 
 rejection of the, 149 
 
 Home Kule question, 94, 112, 
 281, 288 ; Daily News and the, 
 131-2, 135-6 ; and the Liberal 
 party, 139 
 
 Homer, Mr. Gladstone on, 295 
 
 Hope, Anthony, 228 
 
 , Beresford, 409-10 
 
 household Words, 88-90, 171 
 
 Howell, Mr., 335-6 
 
 Howells, W. D., 222; letter 
 quoted, 211-12 
 
 Hueffer, Dr. 123 
 
 Hunt, Ward, 36-37 
 
 Hythe, first visits to, 97-8 
 
 "Ides, Jack " (see wMder Tenniel, 
 
 Sir John) 
 Imperial Titles Bill, 408 
 
INDEX 
 
 441 
 
 Inderwick, F. A., 176 
 Ingram, Sir William, 309 
 Inouye, Japanese Minister, 204-5 
 Irish Party, 430-1 
 Irish Universities Bill, 408 
 Irving, Sir Henry, 264-270 ; his 
 generosity, 265 ; letters quoted, 
 266-7 ; his portrait, 286 
 
 , Lawrence, 270 
 
 Ismay, Thomas, 30 
 Ito, Prince, 203-5 
 
 James of Hereford, Lord, 138-9, 
 233, 261 ; letter quoted, 147-8 
 Jameson, Dr., 274, 276 
 Jameson Raid, 271, 276 
 Japan, the rise of, 203-5 
 Jerrold, Douglas, 183 
 Jones, William, M.P., 231 
 Joseph, gardener, 18-19 
 Joynes, Mr., 86 
 Junior Carlton Club, 158 
 
 Kean, Edmund, 270 
 
 Keene, Charies, 362, 366, 391, 
 
 396; joins Punch stafiF, 363; 
 
 anecdotes of, 369-371, 381-2 ; 
 
 his estate, 370 
 Keller, Helen, 222-3 
 Kelly, Rev. John, 9 
 Kenealy, Dr., 413-414 
 Kennedy, Dr., 51 
 Kiel Canal, opening of, 303-12 
 " Kiki " (see under Du Maurier, 
 
 George) 
 Kimberley, Lord, 404 
 King and Son, 13, 21 
 Kingsley, Charles, 207 
 Knowles, Sir James, 330 
 Kruger, Paul, 261 ; relations with 
 
 Sir Henry Loch, 271 ; Tenniel's 
 
 cartoon on, 378 
 
 Laboucheke, Henry, 129-130 ; 
 
 letter on the Home Rule split, 
 
 140-4 ; his portrait, 285 
 « Laddie," dog, 333-4 
 Lamb, Charles, 125 
 Lansdowne, Lord, 404 
 Lanier, Mr., 222 
 Lang, Andrew, 174 
 " Lantern, Le," newspaper, 80 
 Laporte, private, 163-4 
 " Later Peeps at Parliament," 352 
 LawBon, Sir Wilfrid, 153; poem 
 
 quoted, 150-1 
 Leader, Mr., 113-114 
 Lecky, W. E. H., 422 
 Lee's " Life of Shakespeare," 266 
 Leech, John, 364; joins Punch 
 
 staff, 363; death of, 377; Du 
 
 Maurier on, 389-391 
 Leeds, "Kite," 131, 138 
 
 Mercury, 167 
 
 Leicester Galleries, 362 
 
 Leigh, Pereival (" The Professor "), 
 
 365, 368-9 
 Lemon, Mark, 229, 373; and 
 
 Linley Samboume, 363 
 Lewis, Charies, M.P., 120-1 ; his 
 
 libel action against The World, 
 
 122 
 Liberal Unionist Party, genesis of 
 
 the, 139, 144 
 Lipton, Sir Thomas, 207-8 
 Liverpool Mercury, poems in, 
 
 31-34, 37 
 Z>a%Pos*,37, 367; Lucy's 
 
 London Letter to, 112 
 Llewelyn, Sir Robert, 205, 207 
 Loch, Sir Henry and Lady, 271 
 Lockwood, Sir Frank, 284; on 
 
 the " Member for Sark," 357-8 ; 
 
 quoted, 427-8 
 , Colonel Mark, 230 
 
442 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Lodge, Senator Cabot, 215 
 London Channel Islands Society, 
 359 
 
 Daily Letter, 111-115, 347, 
 
 385 
 
 Lome, Marquis of, 200 
 
 Louise, Princess, 200 
 
 Lowe, Robert (afterwards Lord 
 Sherbrooke), 121, 328, 404, 
 417; his ready wit, 416; and 
 the "Match Tax," 426 
 
 Lowther, Mr. Speaker, 232 ; Phil 
 May's sketch of, 360 
 
 Lubbock, Sir John, 290-1 
 
 Lucas, Samuel, 51 
 
 Lucy, Mr. (father), 2-5; his hospi- 
 tality, 6-8 ; assisted by his son, 
 67 
 
 , Mr. and Mrs. (grandfather 
 
 and grandmother), 2-3 ; their 
 portraits, 3 
 
 , Miss (sister), 11-12 
 
 , George, 1 
 
 , Mrs. (mother), 2, 4, 8-9; 
 
 influence of, 10 
 
 , Mrs. H. W., 96, 118, 134, 
 
 169-171, 213, 264, 266, 384, 
 402 ; in America, 95 ; Lord 
 Charles Beresford's semaphore 
 message to, 99-100 ; marriage, 
 150 ; awarded the " Dunmow 
 Flitch," 150, 153; Mrs. 
 M'Laren on, 152-3 ; journey 
 round the world, 158, 316 ; and 
 Fred Bumaby, 158; letters 
 ^rom James Payn, 173-4; 
 travel, 200 seq.; and W. D. 
 Howells, 212 ; and Mark Twain, 
 223; the "Rural" secretary, 
 232, 332 ; and Campbell Ban- 
 nerman, 249, 325, 329, 331-2 ; 
 letter from Henry Irving, 267 ; 
 
 visit to South Africa, 271 ; first 
 lady' guest at Groot Schuur, 
 272; herdog"Toots,"339-344; 
 as confidante, 400 
 Lucy, H. W., ancestry, 1-2 ; birth 
 and parentage, 2 ; childhood, 
 3-8 ; school days, 9-11 ; takes 
 first prize, 11 ; love of books, 
 11-12, 30-1 ; in a stockbroker's 
 office, 13-14 ; his unpunctnality, 
 14, 21 ; in the hide and valonia 
 business, 15-35; surreptitious 
 rides, 24-5 ; book-keeping, 27 ; 
 supplanted, 27-8 ; first literary 
 efibrta, 28-31; influence of 
 Smiles' "Self Help," 29-30; 
 poems in Liverpool Mercury, 
 31-4, 37; "not Longfellow," 
 34; learns shorthand, 34-5; 
 reporting in the Gfallery, 35-7; 
 on the Shrewsbury Chronicle, 
 40 seq. ; supplementary work, 
 45-7 ; acquiring books, 49 ; 
 editor and part proprietor of 
 Shrewsbury Observer, 49-58 ; 
 receives encouraging letters, 
 51-2; opinion of old county 
 papers, 53-4; his partner's 
 bankruptcy, 54-5, 59, 66 ; first 
 visit to London, 54^-5, 66 ; 
 private secretaryship, 56-62 ; 
 increasing newspaper connec- 
 tion, 60-62; at the trial of 
 Governor Eyre, 63-4 ; investi- 
 gating cholera outbreak, 65; 
 farewell to Shrewsbury, 66-7; 
 presents his connection to col- 
 leagues, 67-8 ; entertained by 
 Mayor of Shrewsbmy, 69 ; 
 journalistic ambitions, 70; un- 
 authorised visit to the Press 
 Gallery, 70-73; calls on J. R, 
 
INDEX 
 
 443 
 
 Bobinson, 73-4 ; departure for 
 Paris, 73-4 ; studying French, 
 75; experiences in Paris, 76-81 ; 
 on the staff of the Fall Mall 
 Gazette, 82-4; undertakes the 
 Parliamentary Summary, 83-4 ; 
 assistant editor of the Exeter 
 Gazette, 84-6 ; miscellaneous 
 work, 86-90; meeting -with 
 Dickens, 87-8 ; table tm-ning, 
 88-9 ; joins the stafi of the 
 Daily News, 91, 155-6 ; 
 J. R. Eobmson on, 92-3 ; 
 the pilgrimage to Paray le 
 Monial, 93-4; work for New 
 York Tribune, 93-5; friend- 
 ship withWhitelaw Eeid, 94^5; 
 voyage round the world, 95, 
 158 ; building of " Whitethorn," 
 98; trip with Lord Charles 
 Beresford, 98-100; "Magnifi- 
 cent" Mr. Lucy, 99-100; 
 manages Daily News corps, 
 100; and the South "Wales 
 Strike Fund, 102; assists 
 Christie Murray, 102-104; 
 starts a new paper, May/air, 
 103-4, 122-7 ; reminiscences 
 of Henty, 104-7 ; tenders his 
 resignation, 108 ; founds a 
 Press Gallery Fund, 108-110 ; 
 the London Daily Letter, 111- 
 113, 347, 385; becomes editor 
 of Daily News, 112-113, 129 ; 
 resumes his former duties, 113, 
 134 ; discontinues the London 
 Letters, 114-115 ; method of 
 work, 115-117, 182 ; his novel, 
 "Gideon Fleyce," 116-118; 
 "The Miller's Niece," 118; 
 " Under the Clock " articles, 
 119-121, 125-6; failure of 
 
 Mayf air, l24r-7; "Cross Bench" 
 articles, 126, 347sej.; "Diary 
 of Toby, M.P.," 126, 258, 315, 
 350, 355-360, 364; pressure of 
 work, 127-8, 346; loyalty to 
 Mr. Gladstone, 131-2 ; coins 
 the name Dissentient Liberals, 
 132 ; return to the Press Gal- 
 lery, 136 ; letter from Labou- 
 chere on the Home Rule Split, 
 140-4; letter from W. S. Caine, 
 145-8 ; marriage, 150 ; awarded 
 the Dunmow Flitch, 150 ; poetic 
 congi^atulations, 150-1 ; friend- 
 ship with Fred Burnaby, 155- 
 165 ; meets Lord K. Churchill, 
 158-9 ; election to the Reform 
 Club, 166; the haunted table, 
 166-190 ; letters from "William 
 Black, 169-171 ; James Payn 
 and J. R. Robinson, 172-8 ; the 
 libellous Rochester article, 179- 
 181 ; Robinson on his hand- 
 writing, 181-2; bequeaths 
 collection of portraits to the 
 nation, 184, 285,402; visit to 
 America, 185-7; death of 
 friends, 188-190 ; episodes, 
 191-4 ; a submarine trip, 195- 
 6 ; hanging scenes, 196-9 ; 
 travel, 200 seq. ; in an an earth- 
 quake, 201-2 ; New York's re- 
 ception of " Toby M.P.," 208- 
 213; with Theodore Roosevelt 
 at "White House, 214-219; 
 friendship with Mark Twain, 
 280-9 ; England's funniest man, 
 224; "Punch" libel action, 
 230-4 ; writes Summary for 
 Daily Telegraph and Daily 
 Express, 233-5 ; the Speaker 
 grants admission to Lobby, 
 
444 
 
 INDEX 
 
 236-7; "From Behind the 
 Speaker's Chair, 238, 350-2; 
 letters from Mr. Groschen, 239- 
 243 ; a lecturing tour, 245-251 ; 
 letter from Sir William Har- 
 court, 245-7; Campbell-Ban- 
 nerman's iDvitation, 249-250; 
 letters from Mr. Chamberlain, 
 266-262 ; in America again, 
 264; letters from Sir Henry- 
 Irving, 266-7; visit to South 
 Africa, 271 ; staying with Cecil 
 Bhodes, 272-6 ; friendship with 
 Lord Russell, 277-286; dining 
 political opponents, 281-2 ; col- 
 lecting portraits, 285-6; remi- 
 niscences of Mr. Gladstone, 
 287-315 ; temporary loss of 
 sight, 287-8 ; at Dalmeny, 
 289-292 ; entertains Mr. Glad- 
 stone, 292-300 ; to the opening 
 of the Kiel Canal, 302-312 ; let- 
 ters from Mr. Gladstone, 314^15; 
 General SirHeniyColvile, 316- 
 320; letters from Sir Henry 
 Campbell - Bannerman, 322 - 
 325, 328 ; forcasts the Liberal 
 Cabinet, 330; his dogs, 333- 
 345; writes for the Observer 
 and Strand Magazine, 346- 
 352 ; visit to the Cape, Japan, 
 and West Indies, 351 ; Glad- 
 stone on his " Cross Bench " 
 article, 348 ; on Ptmch 
 staff, 353-376; letters from 
 Bumand, 353-4; his idea of 
 Toby's election to Parliament, 
 354-7; "Member for Sark," 
 357-9; letter from Mr. Phil 
 May, 360; caricatured by Phil 
 May, 361-2; recollections of 
 Punch colleagues, 363 - 403 ; 
 
 and Tenniel's knighthood, 382 ; 
 letter from Sir John Tenniel, 
 384-385; letter from Du 
 Manner, 389-391 ; "Punch's" 
 hospitality, 364-5; anecdotes 
 of Charles Keene, 369-371, 
 381-2 ; Punch's weekly car- 
 toons, 371-6; friendship with 
 Sir John Tenniel, 377-385 ; re- 
 miniscences of Du Maurier, 385- 
 395 ; reviews " Trilby," 392-3 ; 
 recollections of Su- F. C. Bur- 
 nand,396-403; declines a tempt- 
 ing offer, 398-400; as medi- 
 ator, 400 ; bequeaths portraits 
 to Punch stafi^ 402; his 
 portrait by Sargent, 402-3; 
 thirty-six years at Westminster, 
 404-32; stories of Gladstone 
 and Disraeli, 405-413; John 
 Bright, 413-415 ; Robert Lowe, 
 416-17 ; changes in procedure 
 and debate, 417-421 ; brilliant 
 orators and their methods, 
 421-7 ; dress in the House, 
 427-9; other changes, 429- 
 433. 
 
 WoEKS ; (see under) 
 
 "Chat of the Fair" 
 
 " Cross Bench " articles 
 
 Daily Express 
 
 Daily News 
 
 Daily Telegraph 
 
 " Diary of Toby, M.P." 
 
 " Diary of the Unionist Parlia- 
 ment" 
 
 Exeter Gazette 
 
 "From Behind the Speaker's 
 Chair" 
 
 QenthmarCs Magazine 
 
 " Gideon Fleyce" 
 
INDEX 
 
 445 
 
 Glohe 
 
 Graphic 
 
 Sousehold Words 
 
 " Later Peeps at Parliament " 
 
 Liverpool Mercury 
 
 Liverpool Daily Post 
 
 " London Daily Letter " 
 
 Mayfair 
 
 " Men and Manners in Parlia- 
 ment " 
 
 " MUler's Niece, The " 
 
 New York Herald 
 
 New York Tribune 
 
 North American Review 
 
 Obituary, The 
 
 Observer 
 
 " On the "Watch " articles 
 
 Pall Mall Gazette 
 
 " Peeps at Parliament " 
 
 " Pictures in Parliament" 
 
 Punch 
 
 Shrewsbury Chronicle 
 
 Shrewsbury Observer 
 
 South Wales Daily News 
 
 Strand Magazine 
 
 Times 
 
 " Under the Clock " 
 
 World 
 Lyttelton, Spencer, 290 
 Lytton, Sir Edward Bulwer, 30-1 
 
 McCabthy, Justin, 130 
 MacGahan, war correspondent, 
 
 184 
 Macfarlane, Sir Donald, 338 
 McKinley, President, 217 
 M'Laren, Sir Charles, 152 ; poem, 
 
 151 
 
 , Lady, 152 
 
 , Mrs., quoted, 152-3 
 
 Magnificent, H.M.S., 98-100 
 " Mahogany Tree," Punch's. 
 
 229, 363-4, 402 ; poem, quoted, 
 388-9 
 
 Maple, Sir Blundell, 185-8 
 
 Marjoribanks (see under Tweed- 
 mouth, Lord) 
 
 Marryat, Captain, 11-12 
 
 Match Tax, 426 
 
 May, Phil, 151; illustrates 
 "Toby's Diary," 360; cha- 
 racteristics, 361-3 
 
 , Mrs., 363 
 
 " Mayfair," weekly paper, 103-4, 
 111, 366-7; founding of, 122; 
 contributors to, 123-4; failure 
 of, 124, 127-8 
 
 Melbourne, Lord, 297 
 
 " Member for Sark," 357-9 
 
 "Men and Manners in Parlia- 
 ment," 120, 353 
 
 Mersey Docks and Harbour 
 Board, 39 
 
 "Miller's Niece, The," 118 
 
 MDlais, Sir E., 296 
 
 Milliken, Mr., 366; creator of 
 'Arry and 'Arriet, 367; letter 
 quoted, 367-8 
 
 Moloney, Sir Alfred and Lady, 
 205 
 
 Monk, Mr., M.P., 428 
 
 Monkswell, Lord, 233 
 
 Moore, Thomas, 412 
 
 Morgan, John, bogus detective, 
 60-63 
 
 Morley, Arnold, 141 ; Mr. Labou- 
 chere on, 143 
 
 , John, " Life of Gladstone," 
 
 263 ; his portrait, 285 
 
 Morning Post, 87, 95 
 
 Slav, 74, 80 
 
 Motley's " Letters," 299 
 
 Murray, Christie, on the Birming- 
 ham Morning News, 102 ; 
 
446 
 
 INDEX 
 
 assisted by Lucy, 102-4; in 
 the Eusso-Turkish War, 103-4 ; 
 contributor to MayfaAr, 124 
 Musanis Fasba, 157 
 
 Nassbn, Dr., 170 
 
 National Portrait Gallery, 403 
 
 New York Herald, 208 
 
 TrUnme, 93-6 
 
 Newnes, Sir George, 349 
 Nineteenth Gentwry, 330 
 Norfolk, 15th Duke of, 93 
 North American Beview, 248 
 Northoote, Lord, 328 
 Northfleet, wreck of the, 97-8, 
 191-2 
 
 Gates, Captain, 192 seq. 
 
 OUtuoery, The, 221-4 
 
 Observer, 115, 324; "Gross 
 
 Bench " articles in, 126, 346- 
 
 354 
 O'Donnell, Frank Hugh, 419 
 O'Leary, Dr., 412 
 « On the "Watch " articles, 127 
 Orton, Arthur, 413 
 G'Shea, Captain, 141, 145 
 Osprey, yacht, 309-311 
 Oswestry Advertiser, quoted, 52-4 
 Otway, Sir Arthur, 245 
 "Our Boys," j)%, 125 
 
 Page, Mr., 222 
 
 PaU Mall Gazette, 82-7, 358; 
 Mr. Gladstone on, 314-15 
 
 Palmeraton, Lord, 256 
 
 Parkinson, J. C, 171-2 ; chair- 
 man of Keform Club, 184 
 
 ParneU, C. S., 130, 148, 418 ; and 
 the Home Kule Bill, 141, 145, 
 281 ; his obstructive tactics, 
 431-2 
 
 Partridge, Bernard, his Roosevelt 
 cartoon, 218; Mark Twain 
 cartoon, 229 
 
 Paul, Alexander, 136 
 
 Payn, James, at the Reform Club, 
 167, 172; Editor of Gornhill 
 Magazine, 172 ; iUness of, 173- 
 5; letters quoted, 174 ; his love 
 of town, 175 ; visit to Winchel- 
 sea and Rye, 175-6 ; his hand- 
 writing, 181 
 
 Peat, North, 74-5, 79-80 
 
 Peel, Sir Robert, 137, 297 
 
 , Viscount, 312, 404 
 
 "Peeps at Parliament," 352 
 
 Penn, John, M.P., 98, 185; death 
 of, 186-7 
 
 "Peter," proprietor of Shrews- 
 bury Observer, 45 seq.; bank- 
 ruptcy of, 54^5, 66 
 
 "Pictures in Parliament" in 
 Daily News, 116, 127, 136, 
 327, 354 
 
 "Pippin," do^, 344-5 
 
 Pitt, WiUiam, 420 
 
 Plunket, David (see under Rath- 
 more, Lord) 
 
 PlunkettjSir Horace, letter quoted, 
 231-2 ; in South Africa, 272 
 
 Poe, Edgar Allen, 33 
 
 Press Gallery, 35-7, 83-4, pas- 
 sim; improvements in accom- 
 modation 101-2 ; Fund, 108-9 ; 
 right of entrance to, 234r-7 
 
 " Professor, The " (see under 
 Leigh, PercivaJ) 
 
 Punch, 115, 118; weekly dinners, 
 49, 363 seq., 379, 381, 388-9, 
 400 ; " Toby's Diary " in, 126, 
 258, 315, 350, 355-360, 364; 
 American opinion of, 208 ; 
 Theodore Roosevelt on, 219 ; 
 
INDEX 
 
 447 
 
 entertains Mark Twain, 229 ; 
 libel action against, 230-4; 
 Mr. Goschen on, 242-3; on 
 the King's Title, 258; Mr. 
 Gladstone and, 290 ; staff meets 
 Mr. Gladstone at dinner, 292- 
 300 ; on the death of Mr. Glad- 
 stone, 315 ; a Japanese, 351 ; 
 Lucy joins the staff, 353-376 ; 
 " Essence of Parliament," 354- 
 7 ; " Toby's " election to Parlia- 
 ment, 354-7 ; illustration of 
 •'Toby's Diary," 359-360; 
 Phil May's sketches for, 360- 
 1 ; pageant in Leicester Gal- 
 leries, 362 ; old contributors to, 
 363-4; hospitalities of, 364-6; 
 "Dropping the Pilot " cartoon, 
 367 ; preparation of the weekly 
 cartoons, 371-6 ; on the relief 
 of Gordon, 374 ; Tenniel's ser- 
 vices on, 377-381 ; his Jubilee, 
 382-3; Du Manner's connec- 
 tion with, 38&-395 ; Sir F. C. 
 Bumand's Editorship of, 396- 
 403 ; James Bryce on, 396 ; 
 Editorship offered to Lucy, 398 ; 
 Lucy bequeaths portraits to 
 staff of, 402 
 
 Ragan, M.A., 387-8 
 
 Baleigh, George Gordon, 26-7, 
 
 29,31 
 Kathmore, Lord, 233, 293; and 
 
 the Press Galleiy, 101-2 
 Kedmond, W., 96 
 Keed, E. T., illustrates "Toby's 
 
 Diary," 359 ; his drawing of 
 
 T. Gibson Bowles, 379 
 Eeid, Sir Wemyss, at the Reform 
 
 Club, 167, 184; " Life of For- 
 
 ster," 167-« 
 
 Reid, Whitelaw, 94-5 ; letter quo- 
 ted, 95-6; his country house, 
 210; banquet to Mark Twain, 
 228 
 
 , Mrs., 95-6 
 
 Reform Bill, 416 
 
 Club, 142; the "haunted" 
 
 table at, 166-190 ; farewell din- 
 ner to Sir Henry Irving at, 
 264 ; Liberal Party meeting at, 
 324 
 
 Rendel, Lord, 307 
 
 Rhodes, Cecil, 205; before the 
 "Raid," 271-6; chooses his 
 burial place, 273 ; his Imperial- 
 ism, 275 ; kindness to his ser- 
 vant, 275-6 
 
 Ridley, Viscount, 233 
 
 Rio Tinto Mine, 159 
 
 Ripon, Marquis of, 233 
 
 Ritchie, C. T., 232 
 
 Roberts, Earl, 317 
 
 Robertson, Lord Justice, 250-1 
 
 Robinson, Sir J. R., 103; his 
 handwriting, 73, 181-2; en- 
 gages Lucy, 91-2; speech 
 quoted, 92-3 ; his successful 
 editorship of Daily News, 97, 
 184; his "scorching "letters, 
 107-8, 178, 180-1; and 
 Lucy's return to the Press Gal- 
 lery, 136 ; at the Reform Club, 
 167 ; his love of town, 175 ; 
 visit to Winchelsea and Rye, 
 175-6; on Lucy's Rochester 
 article, 179-181; his fear of 
 shipwreck, 180 ; as a raconteur, 
 182 ; his career, 182-3 ; intro- 
 duces telegraphic war news, 
 184 
 
 Robson, W. S., 233 
 
 Rochefort, M., 80 
 
448 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Boose, Dr. Bobson, 254, 401 
 
 Eoosevelt, Theodore, 214-9 
 
 Rosebery, Lady, 201, 290 
 
 , Lord, 95, 250, 255, 260 ; in 
 
 America, 201 ; and the King's 
 title, 258-9 ; and the Two Pins 
 Club, 284-5 ; hte portrait, 285- 
 6; entertains Mr. Gladstone, 
 290-1; his Government de- 
 feated, 312 ; revives Greenwich 
 dinner, 348 
 
 Boss, Mr., 35-7 
 
 Bowton, Lord, 185, 188-9; re- 
 lations with Disraeli, 189-190 ; 
 on Disraeli's tact, 410-11 
 
 Ewncorn Observer, 38-9 
 
 Buskin, John, 335 
 
 Bussell, of Killowen, Lord, 277- 
 286 ; and the Giallery reporters, 
 101 ; his American stories, 279- 
 280 ; entertains the Two Pins 
 Club, 283-5; sits for his por- 
 trait, 285-6 
 
 , Edward, 37, 40, 44 ; recom- 
 mends Lucy to Pall Mall 
 Gazette, 82; Lucy's letter to, 
 135 
 
 ^.G. W. E., 247 
 
 , Lord John, 377 
 
 , W. H., 183 
 
 Sala, Geoege AuGusitTS, 167 
 Salisbury, Marquis of, 137, 144, 
 263, 404 ; his Government de- 
 feated, 138 ; and Lord Bandolph 
 Churchill, 242; death, 256; 
 offer to Mr. Chamberlain, 261 ; 
 and Tenniel's knighthood, 382- 
 3 
 Samboume, Linley, 220, 293, 366, 
 371, 396 ; his Goschen cartoon, 
 242; and the Two Pins Club, 
 
 284 ; illustrates "Toby's Diary," 
 
 355, 359 ; contributor to Pimch 
 
 from its commencement, 363; 
 
 the " Undercut " cartoon, 376 
 Sandon, Lord, 416 
 Sauna's Post disaster, 317-9 
 Sargent, J. S., 221 ; portrait of 
 
 Lord Bussell of Killowen, 285 ; 
 
 his portrait of Lucy, 402-3 
 Sark, Member for, 357-9 
 Saturday Review, 409-10 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 11, 59 
 Seaman, Owen, 363 
 Selby, Viscount, 232 
 Selous, Mr., 274 
 Sexton, Mr., 142 
 Shakespeare, W., 49 ; " Hamlet" 
 
 quoted, 424 
 Sheffield Independent, 113 
 Shorthand, acquisition of, 34-5; 
 
 diary in, 49 
 Shrewsbury Chronicle, 40, 44-50, 
 
 57 
 
 Observer, 45-57 
 
 Shropshire News, 47 
 Silver, Henry, 363-4 
 "Sinking Ship, The," cartoon, 
 
 378 
 " Sleepy Sentinel," newspaper, 53 
 Smalley, Mr., 93-4 
 Smiles, Samuel, 30 ; " Self Help," 
 
 29-30 
 Smith, George, and the morning 
 
 edition of the Pall Mall 
 
 Gazette, 82-4 
 
 , Bobert, merchant, 15-32 
 
 , W. H., 242 
 
 Smythe, Mr., 43 
 
 South Afirican War, 259, 262; 
 
 Commission, 276 ; a scape-goat 
 
 of the, 316-320 
 South Wales Daily News, 112-3 
 
INDEX 
 
 449 
 
 Spencer, Lady, 290-1 
 
 , Earl, 331, 373 
 
 Standa/rd, 105-6, 167 
 Stanley, Sir Hubert, 179 
 Steel, Qallery attendant, 72-3 
 Stewart, General, 160-1, 165,374 
 Stoker, Bram, 265 
 Strvmd Magazine, 238, 394-52 
 Submarine trip, 195-6 
 Summers, W., M.P., 287 
 Swinburne, A. C, 118 
 
 Tadema, Alma, 228 
 
 Tantallon Castle, E.M.S., 303 
 
 Tate, Sir Henry, 398, 
 
 Taylor, Tom, Editor of Punch, 
 353-4, 359, 363, 396 
 
 Teck, Princess May of (see wnder 
 Wales, Princess of) 
 
 Temple, Dr., 85 
 
 Tenniel, Sir John (" Jack Ides "), 
 293, 363, 366, 371, 396; his 
 Goschen cartoon, 242-3; his 
 portrait, 285 ; relief of Gordon, 
 cartoon, 374; cartoon on the 
 death of the Duke of Clarence, 
 375-6 ; and Du Manner, 377- 
 395 ; becomes chief cartoonist 
 on Punch, 377; presentation 
 on his retirement, 377, 380; 
 his last cartoon, 378 ; his genial 
 disposition, 379-80; farewell 
 dinner to, 380-1 ; knighthood, 
 382-3; letter quoted, 384-5; 
 his portrait, 402 
 
 Tennyson, Lord, 168 ; Poems, 49 
 
 , 2nd Lord, 228 
 
 Terry, Ellen, 267, 270 ; on Mr. 
 Balfour, 268 
 
 Teutonic, K.M.S., 30 
 
 Tewfik Pasha, 375 
 
 Thackeray, W. M., 364, 366 ; his 
 
 " Mahogany Tree," quoted, 
 388-9 ; compared with Dickens, 
 390 ; and Du Maurier, 393 
 
 "Through the Looking Glass," 
 384-5 
 
 Tichborne, Roger, 192-4 
 
 Trial, 192-4,413 
 
 Tillotson, Mr., 116 
 
 IVmes, 64, 123 ; reporting for the, 
 35-6 ; bui;h of the, 53 ; and the 
 Russo-Turkish War, 103-4; 
 accommodation in the Press 
 GaUery, 234 
 
 Tinsley, Messrs., 120 
 
 "Toby's Diary" (see vnder 
 " Diary of Toby, M.P.") 
 
 " Toots," dog, 338-344 
 
 «Toto,"(io^,336 
 
 Trevelyan, Sir George 0., 138, 
 144, 147, 263 ; and the Home 
 Rule Bill, 146; letter quoted, 
 315 
 
 "Trilby," nowe?, 392-4 
 
 Tunstall, Mr., 15-16, 26 
 
 Tweedmouth, Lord, 289 
 
 Twiss, Sir Travers, 86 
 
 , Lady, 87 
 
 Two Pins Club, 283-4 
 
 "Under the Clock," articles, 
 
 119-122, 125-7, 353, 414 
 Union Castle Line, 303 
 
 ViCTOKiA, Queen, 91, 408 ; Dia- 
 mond JubUee, 245 ; and the Im- 
 perial Titles Bill, 412 
 
 Vignal, Madame, 386 
 
 Wainwbight, Henby, murderer, 
 
 198-9 
 Wales, Princess of, 375 
 Walter, John, 53 
 
 2 G 
 
450 
 
 INDEX 
 
 Walton, Lawson, 330 
 Ward, B. A., 402 
 Warren, Samnel, 215 
 Watton, John, 40, 41, 45, 50 
 Watts-Dunton, Theodore, 118 
 West, Sir Algernon, 313 
 Wetherell, Sir Charles, 299-300 
 WhaUey, Mr., M.P., 413 
 Whistler, J. M,, 386 
 White, Mr., 207 
 
 , Mr., schoolmaster, 9 
 
 Whitehead, Mr., 142 
 Whitemg, Eichard, 92 
 "Whitethorn," building of, 98 
 Whitty, Mr., 37 
 Williams, Powell, 254-5 
 Wms, W. H., 270 
 Wilson, Sir Charles, 374 
 Wiseman, Cardinal, 377 
 " Wolf, The," song, 25 
 
 Wolseley, Lord, 160; and Fred 
 Bumaby, 164-5; and Du 
 Manrier, 394 
 Wolverhampton Chronicle, 39 
 Wood, Walter, 69-73, 82 
 World, founding of the, 119-122 ; 
 libel action against, 122 ; cause 
 of its popularity, 123 ; " Under 
 the Clock," articles in, 119-122, 
 125-7, 353, 414 
 Wright, Oattery attendant, 37 
 Wyndham, George, 273 
 
 Yates, Edmukd, 171,414;quoted, 
 119; engages Lucy on the 
 World, 120, 353; and the libel 
 action against the World, 122; 
 and "Under the Clock," 
 articles, 125-7 
 
 THE END 
 
 PEISTSD BT WIUUM CLOWES USB 80SB, LIKITED, UnCOON AND BECCLI8.