Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924074501903 In compliance with current copyright law, Cornell University Library produced this replacement volume on paper that meets the ANSI Standard Z39.48-1984 to replace the irreparably deteriorated original. 1995 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. 1l^ ^^^iT^' f MEMOIE OF A BROTHER. ^"^ ^»*-4- i^n^^ JToivbrni : MACMILLAN AND CO. 1873. I VVif UiqU of Translation a,)td IttprotJitctioii is /fsc/ ct./.J A. -^v O -V LuNDOX : K. CLAV, SOXS, AXD TAVLOH. PUIXTKU-- BRKAn :-TREET HII.I.. MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. THOMAS HUGHES, AUTHOll OF "TOM EROWX'S SCHOOLDAVS." MACMILLAN AND CO. 1873. I'J'he lll'jhtof Ti'-'nsi'dioiiaiul Ileirrod action U n'scrctnl.} L. --' A.^^v^v'i-'^. LOSDOX : II. CLAV, S0X5, AXD TAVLOll, PUlXTKIt.- BRCAP STREET HII.I„ PREFACE. This Memoir was written for, and at the request of, the near relatives, and intimate friends, of the home-loving country gentleman, whose unlooked-for death had made them all mourners indeed. Had it been meant originally for publication, it would have taken a very diiferent form. In compiling it, my whole thoughts were fixed on mj own sons and nephews, and not on the public. It tells of a life with which indeed the public has no concern in one sense ; for my brother, with all his ability and power of different kinds, was one of the humblest and most retiring of men; who just did his own duty, and held his own tongue, without the slightest effort or wish for farae or notoriety of any kind. In another sense, however, I do see that it has a meaning and interest for Englishmen in general, and have therefore consented to its publication in the usual way, though not without a PREFACE. sense of discomfort and annoyance at having the veil even partially lifted from the intimacies of a private family circle. For, in a noisy and confused time like ours, it does seem to me that most of us have need to be reminded of, and will be the better for bearing in mind, the reserve of strength and power which lies quietly at the nation's call, outside the whirl and din of public and fashionable life, and entirely ignored in the columns of the daily press. The subject of this memoir was only a good specimen of thousands of Englishmen of high culture, high courage, high principle, who are living their own quiet lives in every corner of the kingdom, from John o' Groat's to the Land's-End, bringing up their families in the love of God and their neighbour, and keeping the atmosphere around them clean, and pure and strong, by their example, — men who would come to the front, and might be relied on, in any serious national crisis. One is too apt to fancy, from the photographs of the nation's life which one gets day by day, that the old ship has lost the ballast which has stood her in such o-ood stead for a thousand years, and is rolling more and more helplessly, in a gale which shows no sign of abating, for PREFACE. her or any other national vessel, until at last she must roll over and founder. But it is not so. England is in less stress, and in better trim, than she has been in in many a stifPer gale. The real fact is, that nations, and the families of which nations are composed, make no parade or fuss over that part of their affairs which is going right. National life depends on home life, and foreign critics are inclined to take the chronicles of our Divorce Court as a test by which to judge the standard of our home life, like the old gentleman who always spelt through the police reports to see " what the people were about." An acquaintance, however, with any average English neighbourhood, or any dozen English families taken at random, ought to be sufficient to reassure the faint-hearted, and to satisfy them that (to use the good old formula) the Lord has much work yet for this nation to do, and the nation manliness and godliness enough left to do it all, notwithstanding superficial appearances. A life without sensation or incident may therefore well form a more useful subject of study in such a time, than the most exciting narrative of adventure and success, the conditions being, that it shaU have been truly lived, and PREFACE. faithfully told. Readers vili judge for themselves whether the fornier condition has been fulfilled in this case: I wish I could feel the same confidence as to the latter. I can only say T have done my best. T. H. TO MY NEPHEWS AND SONS. My deae Bots, It has pleased God to take to Himself the head of the family of "which you are members. Most of you are too young to enter into the full meaning of those words " family " and " membership," but you all remember with sore hearts, and the deepest feeling of love and reverence, the gentle, strong, brave man, whom you used to call father or uncle: and who had that wonderful delight- in, and attraction for, young folk, which most very gentle and brave men have. You are conscious, I know, that a great cold chasm has suddenly opened in your lives — that strength and help has gone away from you, to which j'ou knew you might turn in any of the troubles which boys, and very young men, feel so keenly. Well, I am glad that you feel that it is so : I should not have much hope of you DEDICATION. if it were otherwise. The chasm will close up, and you will learn, I trust and pray, where to go for strength and help, in this and all other troubles. It is very little that I can do for you. Probably you can do more for me ; and my need is even sorer than yours. But what I can do I will. Several of you have asked me ques- tions about your father and uncle, wliat we used to do, and think and talk about, when he and I were boys together. "Well, no one can answer these questions better than I, for we were as nearly of an age as brothers can be — I- was only thirteen months younger — and we were companions from our childhood. We went together to oiu- first school, when I was nearly eight and he nine j'ears old ; and then on to Eugby together ; and were never separated for more than a week until he -went to Oxford, where I follovs^ed a year later. For the first part of my time there, in college, we lived in the same rooms, always on the same staircase ; and afterwards in the same lodgings. From that time to the day of his death we lived in the most constant intimacy and affection. Looking back over all those years, I can call to mind no single unkind, or unworthy, or untruthful, act or word of his ; and amongst all the good infiuences for which I have to be thankful, I reckon the constant presence and DEDICATION. example of his brave, generous, and manly life as one of the most powerful and ennobling. If T can in any measure reproduce it for you, I know that I shall be doing you a good service ; and helping you, in even more difficult times than those in which we grew up, to quit yourselves as brave and true English boys and Englishmen, in whatever work or station God may be pleased to call you to. You have all been taught to look to one life as j'^our model, and to turn to Him who lived it on our earth, as to the guide, and friend, and helper, who alone can strengthen the feeble knees, and lift up the fainting heart. Just in so far as you cleave to that teaching, and follow that life, will you live your own faithfully. If I were not sure that what I am going to try to do for you would help to turn you more trustfully and lovingly to that source of all truth, all strength, all light, be sure I would not have undertaken it. As it is, I know it will be my fault if it does not do this. THOMAS HUGHES. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. FIRST YEARS CHAPTER II. EUGBY CHAPTER III. A father's letters . . . . . , CHAPTER IT. 1 17 49 59 CHAPTER V. DKaEEE 80 CHAPTER VI. START IN LIFE SR xvi CONTENTS. CHAPTER VII. PAGE 1849-50: AX episode 109 CHAPTER VIII. ITALY 12i CHAPTER IX. MIDDLE LIFE . . . 130 CHAPTER X. LETTERS TO HIS BOYS . . 151 CHAPTER XI. CONCLUSION .... ... . . 170 MEMOIR OF A BROTHEE. CHAPTEE I. FIRST YEARS. My brother was born on the 18th of September, 1821 at Uffington, in Berkshire, of which yoiir great-grandfather was vicar. Uffington was then a very primitive village, far away from a;ny high road, and seven miles from Wantage, the nearest town from which a coach ran to London. There were very few neighbours, the roads were almost impassable for carriages in the winter, and the living was a poor one; but your great-grandfather (who was a Canon of St. Paul's) had exchanged a much richer living for it, because his wife had been bom there, and was deeply attached to the place. Three George Watts's had been vicars of Uffington, in direct succession from father to son, and she was the daughter of the last of them So your grandfather, who was their only chUd, came to live in the vUlage on his marriage, in an old farmhouse B 2 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. close to the church, to which your grandfather added some rooms, so as to make it habitabla If you should ever make a pilgrimage to the place, you wiU not find the house, for it has been pulled down; but the grand old church is there, and White Horse Hill, rising just behind the village, just as they were half a century ago, when we first looked at them. We could see the church from our bed-room window, and the hUl from our nursery, a queer upper room amongst the rafters, at the top of the old part of the house, with a dark closet in one corner, into which the nurses used to put us when we were more unruly than usual. Here we lived till your great-grandfather's death, thirteen years later, when your grandfather removed to his house at Donnington. The memories of our early childhood and boyhood throng upon me, so that I scarcely know where to begin, or what to leave out. I cannot, however, I am sure, go wrong in telling you, how I became first aware of a great difference between us, and of the effect the discovery had on me. In the spring of 1828, when he was seven and T six years old, our father and mother were away from home for a few days. We were playing together in the garden, when the footman came up to us, the old single- barrelled gun over his shoulder which the gardener had for driving away birds from the strawberries, and asked us whether we shouldn't like to go rook-shootino-. We jumped at the offer, and trotted along by his side to the I.] FIRST YJiARS. rookery, some 300 yards from the house. As we came up we saw a small group of our friends under the trees — the groom, the ^'illa.ge schoolmaster, and a farmer or two — and started forwards to greet them. Just before we got to the trees, some of them began firing up at the young rooks. I remember, even now, the sudden sense of startleit fear which came over me. My brother ran in at once under the trees, and was soon carrying about the powder-hoiTi from one to another of the shooters. I tried to fore* myself to go up, but could not manage it. Presently he ran out to me, to get me to go back with him, bat in rain. I could not overcome my first impression, and kept hovering round, at a distance of thirty or forty yards, until it was time for us to go back; ashamed of myself and wondering in my small mind why it was that he could go in amongst that horrible flashing and smoke, and the din of firing, and cawing rooks, and falling birds, and I could not. I had encountered the same puzzle in other ways al- ready. Some time before my father had bought a small Shetland pony for us. Moggy by name, upon which we were to complete our own education in riding. We had already mastered the rudiments, under the caie of our but it seems to cause a good deal of excite- ment." In the summer of 1839 he went in for the Exhibition examination, and did so well that his success in ] 840 (his last year) was almost a certainty. But he did not remain for another examination, and I must tell j'ou the reason ot his leaving before his time, because, though I was then furiously on the other side, I think now that he was in the wrong. It was one of those curious difficulties which will happen, I suppose, every now and then in our great public schools, where the upper boys have so much power and responsibility, and in which there are (or were) a number of customs and traditions as to discipline, which are almost sacred to the boys, but scarcely recognized by the masters. It happened thus. Just at this time the sixth form boys were on the average smaller and younger than usual, while there were a great number of big boys, not high up in the school, but excellent cricketers and football players, and otherwise manly and popular fellows. They swarmed in the eleven, and big-side football, and were naturally thrown very much with George and his friend Mackie.^ In some houses, no doubt, they were inclined ' Afterwards M.P. for Dumfriesshire, a fine scholar and great athlete, who died only nine months before his old friend. II.] BVGBY. 33 rather to ignore the authority of the sixth themselves, and of course their example was followed by the fags, so that the discipline of the school began to fall out of gear. At last matters came to a crisis. Some of the sixth form took to reporting to the Doctor cases which, according to school traditions, they ought to have dealt with themselves ; and in other ways began- to draw the reins too tightly. There were "levies" (as we called them) of the sixth and fifth, at which high words, passed, and several of the sixth were sent to Coventry. This made the Doctor very angry, and he took the side of the disciplinarians. Then came a rebellious exhibi- tion of fireworks one evening in the quadrangle. Then an Italian, with a lot of plaster casts, committed the un- pardonable sin of coming into the Close without leavej'and his wares were taken, and put up for " cock-shyes." He went straight to the Doctor, who insisted that the sixth should discover and report the offenders ; but those who would could not, and those who might would not. The Doctor's face had been getting blacker and blacker for some time, and at last, one November morning, he sent haK a dozen of the big fifth and middle fifth boys home, and told George and his friend Mackie, and one or two other sixth form boys, that they could not return after the end of the half-year. And here I will give you two of your grandfather's letters to us on these matters, to show you how we were ' D 34 MEMOIB OF A BEOTSER [chap. brought up. He was au old Westminster himself, and so quite understood the boys' side of the dispute. He begins to George, telling him first about home doings, and then goes on : — "I have received a letter from Dr. Arnold deserving attention, by which it appears that you have been remiss in your duties as a prteposter, though he speaks fairly enough as to your own personal conduct. He alludes particularly to the letting off of fireworks, and the man whose images were broken, in neither of which you appear to have shown due diligence in discovering or reporting the boys concerned. Moreover, he thinks that those prseposters who have been more active in enforcing the school routine have been unjustly treated with con- tempt and insult by the larger party of the boys — ^in fact, either buUied, or cut; and evidently he thinks that you have been amongst the cutters. Now, it is impossible for me to enter into the exact merits of the case at a distance ; and possibly I may not be inclined to see it in all its details with the eye of a zealous schoolmaster; but, as you are now of a thinking age, I wiU treat the matter candidly to you, as a man of the world and a man of business, in which capacities I hope to see you efficient and respected in the course of a few years. Your own conduct seems to be gentlemanly and correct. Very good ; this is satisfactory as far as it goes. But clearly, by the regulations of the school, you have certain duties to per- form, the strict execution of which may in some cases be annoying to your own feelings, and to that esprit de corps which always exists among boys. Nevertheless, they must be performed. Those young men who have a real regard for the character of their school, which all of you are ready II.] BUGBY. 36 enougli to stickle for when you get outside its walls, must not allow it to become a mere blackguard bear-garden, and to stink in the nostrUs of other public schools, by tolera- ting, in those they are expected to govern, such things as they would not do themselves. When you grow a little older you will soon perceive that there is no situation in life worth having, and implying any respect, where moral firmness is not continually req^uired, and unpleasant duties are to be performed. Were you now in the army, you would find that if you were not strict enough with your men, you would have a pack of drunkards and pilferers under your command, disgracing the regiment ; and would receive a hint from your Colonel, in double quick time, to mend your vigilance or sell out. Ditto, if you were older and a coUege tutor. I remember a clever, amiable, and learned man, whom our young feUows used to laugh at behind his back, and play tricks on before his face, be- cause he laboured under such a nervous gentlemanly scrupulousness that he could not say Bo to a goose, and therefore they learned little under him. I find myself that a magistrate has many harsh and disagreeable duties to perform, but he must perform them, or the law of the land becomes an old song, and his own person ridiculous. So that, in fact, I only urge you to conform yourself, like a sensible person, to the general condition of human life. I am inclined to think that the slackness in your case has arisen more from constitutional ease of temper than for fear of what a clique of disorderly fellows might say ot you : for if it had been the latter motive, I am sure you had it not by inheritance from your mother or me. But this ease of temper may be carried to a fault. In a word, you must correct it forthwith in your conduct as a prse- poster, if you expect that 1 can treat you, as I wish to do, in the light of a young man, and a responsible jjerson : as D 2 36 MEMOIR OF A BROTSER. [chap. to my affection, you ■will always have that, so long as your own conduct is good. Now as to those crackers ; you must have known the thing was childish and dangerous, and forbidden for good reasons. Remember poor Harrow.^ Therefore you might liave interposed in a firm and civil way, and prevented it on pain of instant report to the master, and no one could have complained that you did anything ungentlemanlv. As to the fellows who broke the poor man's images and would not fork out the damage, I -wish you had been more successful, perhaps more active, in discovering them; if you had broken their heads I could not have blamed you. But on this I must write to Tom. So good bye; and if you really value my respect for your character, look sharper to your police department. Eemember you are no longer a child." Then, on the same sheet, follows a letter to me. I must explain that I had been one of the image breakers, but had come forward with one of the others and paid the damage. " I have heard an account of the afiair of the images. You should have remembered, as a Christian, that to insult the poor is to despise the ordinance of God in making them so : and moreover, being well bom and well bred, and having lived in good company at home, which, may be, has not been the privilege of all youx schoolfellows, you should feel that it is the hereditary pride and duty of a gentleman to protect those who perhaps never sat down to a good meal in their lives. It would have been more manly and creditable if yorr had broken the head of , or some 1 There had recently been a fireworts row at Harrow, the details of which had got into the newspapers, creatisg much scandal. n.] nUGBY. 37 pompous country booby in your back settlement, than smashed the fooleries of this poor Pagan Jew, which were to him both funds and landed estate. This strict truth obliges me to say, though, if you had bought his whole stock to indulge the school with a cock-shy, I should only have said ' A fool and his money are soon parted.' It is impossible, however, to be angry with you, as you came forward like a lad of spirit and gentlemanly feeling to repair your share, and perhaps more than your share, ot the damage. The anxiety the poor fellow had suffered you could not make up to him. And it is well that you did make such reparation as you did ; had it not been the case, you never would have recovered the place you would have lost in my esteem. Kemember, this sort of thing must never happen again if you value that esteem. And have no acquaintance you can avoid with the stingy cowards who shirked their share of the damage : they can be no fit company for you or any gentleman. I don't know what the public opinion of Rugby says of them. We plain spoken old Westminsters, in the palmy days of the school, should have called them dirty dogs ; and so much for them, more words than they are worth. I am glad to find that your general conduct is approved by the Doctor : and now that you have put your hand to the plough, don't take it off; and God bless you." In conclusion, to George : — " Don't cut, or look shy on, any of the prseposters who have done their duty, if you do not think they are acting from private pique, or love of power. This question you have sense and honesty to decide for yourself. I have hinted to Arnold that it may be so, but cannot know it as well as you do, yea or nay. And if you do your own duty without flinching, your opinion will have weight with all 38 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. whom it may concern. The Doctor evidently thinks you could be of essential use to him if you liked, and I am sure he is much too fair and honourable a man to want to make spies of his pupils. If you do not back him in what he has a right to enforce, you pass a tacit censure on a man you profess to esteem." George's answer produced the following from your grandfather : — "I like the tone of your vindication much. It shows- the proper spirit which I wish to cultivate, and a correct sense of what your duties are as a member of society. Be assured that I hate as much as you do the character of a talebearer and meddler, and a fellow who takes advantage of a little brief authority to gratify his own spite and love of importance. And in my reply to Dr. Arnold I said, that having been bred up on the system of ' study to be quiet and mind your own business,' you might very likely have fallen into the extreme of non-interference ; which I thought was the best extreme for a gentleman to follow. I also hinted that his pets might not be quite immaculate in their motives, or deserve the good opinion of the more gentlemanly boys of their own standing, who had a right to form their own judgment and limit their own acquaintance, though not to interfere with the discipline of the school. What you have said of the fellow who caused the expul- sion (rustication I should call it) of the others, confinns me. His conduct, in fact, if his words could be proved, deserves a round robin to Arnold from the school ; and if you are sure it is so, I will back you with my full sanction in cutting any such malicious rascal. I think you wiU see after this that I do not speak from the notions of a pedant or a disciplinarian, and that I do not care two straws how II. J aUGBT. 39 you stand in the opinion of Doctor this, or Doctor that, provided you deserve your own good opinion as a Christian and a gentleman, and do justice to good principles and good blood, for which things you are indebted to sources independent of Eugby. But with all this I do not abandon my position, of which indeed you seem convinced, that order must be enforced at the expense of disagreeable duties. All I wish is this : put Dr. A. out of the ques- tion if you please, and enter into the views of the parents of the junior boys as if they were your own family friends : with, this view you wiU not only protect their sons in their little comforts and privileges, but steadily check those habits in them which might render them nuisances in general society, or involve them in scrapes at school. After all, Arnold was right as to the prevention of crackers in the quadrangle, and you ought to have stopped it ; on this point you say nothing. As to the investigation of the image matter : if you were not there at the time, you may not be blameable for want of success, and if they expected you to pump Tom, or employ any underhand means in getting at the truth, they knew but little of your family habits. Albeit, I wish the thing could have been traced. It was mean and cowardly, and, if it happened often, ruinous to the character of the school, inasmuch as the fellows did not step forward at once in a manly way and say, ' We were certainly 'wTong, and ready to pay for the cock-shy ; but the parrots and Napoleons were irresistible.' The Doctor would have laughed, and approved. I do not wonder he was sore on the subject, feeling like a gentleman for the character of his school, as Lord B would have done for the character of his own parish, had a stranger had his pocket picked in it. Nor do I want you to adopt all his views or partialities. Only suppose yourself in his place : fancy what you would have a right to expect, and 40 MEMOIR OW A BROTHER. [chap. rememter that it cannot be done without the help of the prseposters. This you seem inclined to do, and you may do it on your own independent footing, looking as coldly as you please on any clique whose motives may be different from your own. You have no need to court anybody's favour if you cultivate the means of making yourself inde- pendent; and if you only fear God in the 'true sense, you may snap your fingers at everything else, — which ends all I have to say on this point. ' Upright and downright ' is the true motto." I believe that no boy was ever more regretted. Since he had been in the sixth, and especially in his last year, when he was the Captain of Big-side Football and third in the Eleven, bullying had disappeared from the school- house, and house fagging had lost its irksomeness. The House had regained its position, having beaten the School at football. He had kicked the last goal from " a place " nearly sixty yards from the post. The tradition of that kick was handed down for many years, and, I remarked, was always getting back some few yards; so that, by the time it expired, I have no doubt it had reached 100 yards, and become as fabulous as many other traditions. His rule was perhaps rather too easy. The loafers, who are always too numerous, had a much better time than they deserved; and I doubt whether the school-house first lessons were done so well as at other times; for, instead of each boy going off to his own study after supper, and stern silence reigning in the u.] BUGBY. 41 passages till bed-time, groups of bigger boys would collect round the fires, and three or four fags in one study : and thus much time which should have been given to themes and verses was spent in talking over football and cricket matches, and the Barby and Crick runs at hare and hounds. I know that George . himself regretted very much what had occurred, and I believe, had he had a second chance, would have dealt vigorously with the big boys at once. But he had to learn by the loss of his exhibition, as you will all have to learu in one way or another, that neither boys nor men do get second chances in. this world. We all get new chances till the end of our lives, but not second chances in the same set of circum- stances; and the great difference between one boy and another is, how he takes hold of, and uses, his first chance, and how he takes his fall if it is scored against him. At the end of the half. Dr. Arnold, with his usual kindness, and with a view T believe to mark his approval of my brother's character and general conduct at the school, invited him to spend part of his holidays at the Lakes. His visit to Foxhow, and Yorkshire, at Christmas 1839, before he went up to Oxford, delighted him greatly. He had never seen a mountain before, and the fact of seeing them for the first time from his old master's house, with schoolfellows to whom he was warmly attached, doubled liis pleasure. I have only room, however, for one of his letters; — 42 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. " Foxiiow, Jan. 6th, 1840. " My dear Father ajtd Mother, " I will now give you a more lengthened account of my proceedings than I did in my last. " Last Saturday week I reached Ambleside, as you know. As I was following my luggage to Foxhow 1 met Mrs. Arnold, and visited Stockgill force. " Sunday. — I did nothing particular, although it was a splendid day, and we saw the mountains beautifully. "Monday. — Hard frost. We went up Lufrigg, the moun- ■ tain close hj Foxhow, to try if we could get any skating, but it would not bear my weight. I and Matt Arnold then went down to a swampy sort of lake to shoot snipes : we found a good number, but it came on to rain, and before we got back from Elterwater (the name of the lake) we were well wet through. " Tiiesday — Wednesday. — Eain — ^rain ! " Thursday. — -We were determined to do something, so Matt, Tom, and I took horse and rode to Keswick, and we had a most beautiful ride. We left Lady Fleming's on the right, went along the shores of Eydale Lake, then from Eydale to Grasmere, then through the pass called High Eocae (I don't know if that is rightty spelt), leaving a remarkahle mountain called the Lion and the Lamb on the right — then to Thurlmere, leaving HelveUyn on the right. Thurlmere is a beautiful little lake : there is a very fine rock on the left bank called Eavenscrag, and on the right HelveUyn rises to an immense height. Then the view of Keswick was most beautiful : Keswick straight before us — Bassenthwaite beyond Keswick in the distance; Derwentwater on our left — Saddleback and Skiddaw oii the right, one 2,780 and the other 3,000 feet high, and HelveUyn (3,070 feet) behind us. It was a rainy, misty II.] RUGBY. 43 day, so that we did not see so much as we might have done, and it was only at odd moments that we caught a glimpse of Helvellyn free from clouds, but we were lucky in seeing it at all; they gave us such a dinner at the inn (without our req[uiring anything grand) as would have made a. Southern stare — all the delicacies of the season, potted char among the rest — and charging us only 2s. apiece. "Friday. — Rainy. Walked into Amhleside to see Mr. Cotton off by the mail, and afterwards as the weather cleared up we went out on Windermere, and had a very pleasant afternoon. " Saiurdjiy. — A fine day. Tom and T determined to do something 'gordgeous,' and so we set out to walk up Helvellyn, and we had some precious good walking before we got up. We started from the foot at a quarter past eleven, and reached the summit at a quarter to one. One hour and a half, — pretty good walking, considering three- quarters or more was as steep or steeper than the side of Beacon HilP which we slide down. Although quite warm in the valley, the top of the mountain was a sheet of ice, and the wind blew quite a gale. It did not, however, prevent us from enjoying a view of nearly fifty miles on all sides. We saw Windermere, Coniston, and the sea towards the south, as far as Lancaster. Ulswater close on the north- east ; Skiddaw and Saddleback and Bassenthwaite Lake on the north ; on the west the range of mountains in which is Scawfell, 3,160 feet, the highest mountain in England. We saw into Scotland, Cumberland, Cheshire, Lancashire, and Yorkshire. It was a most splendid day, but there was a sort of mist in the very far distance which prevented our seeing quite as much as we should otherwise. Helvellyn on the side towards Ulswater descends in a 1 A hill in Lord Carnarvon's park at Highclere, near Newhury. 44 MJEMOIB OF A BROTHER. [chap. precipice 1,000 feet, and a long narrow ridge, called, T think. Straddle Edge, from its narrowness, stretches out at right angles from the mountain, on the same side. There are innumerahle places in which a person might break his neck, or be frozen to death without help, as few go up the mountain at this time of the year, it being a continual frost up there. We made ourselves very comfortable under the lee of a cairn, or heap of stones, which had been raised on the very highest point, round a tall upright pole. I got up, and put a stone at the top, aud we put a newspaper which contained our grub into tlie middle of the heap, having first taken out a quantity of stones ; how long it will stay there I don't know. We then proceeded to grub with uncommon appetite, — some hard ' unleavened bread,' some tolerable cheese, and a lot of the common oat-cake they: make in the country. We had some good fun, loosen- ing and rolling masses of rock down the precipitous side into the ' Red Tarn,' a largish bit of water, and into the table-land below. We then came home by Gresdale Tarn and Grasmere, after a good long walk. This was last Saturday. " Dr. and Mrs. Arnold are very kind, and I have spent a very pleasant week here. I go away on Tuesday to Escrick Park. Next Wednesday week, or about that time, I shall start for London again, and shall be with you about the 20th ; till which time ' Love to alL" ' I remain, your affectionate son, "G. E. Hughes. The ride to Keswick, mentioned in this letter, is alluded to also in one which I received in this last sad month of 11.] BUGBY. 45 May from one of his companions, who has allowed me to use it for your benefit. Its natural place would perhaps be at the end of this memoir, but I prefer to insert it here: — " Harrow, .Way 2Srd, 1S7 2. " My dear Hughes, " I had seen so little of your brother George of late years that I seemed at first to have no business to write about his death ; but now, as the days go on, I cannot rssist the desire of saying a word about him, and of asking after his wife and children. Not two years ago I had a delightful day at Offley with liim — the only time I ever was there ; and all I saw of him then, and on the very rare occasions when we met by accident, confirmed my old remembrance of him — ^that he was one of the most delightful persons to be with I ever met, and that he had, more than almost anybody one met, the qualities which will stand wear. Everj'thing about him seemed so sound ; his bodily health and address were so felicitous that one thought of his moral and intellectual soundness as a kind of reflex from them ; and now it is his bodily health which has given way! His death carries me back to old times, and the glory and exploits (which are now so often presented so as to borti one) of youth, and strength, and coolness, have their ideal for me in what I remember of him, and his era. His taking the easy lead at golf latterly, as he did in his old days at football and rowing, seemed to me quite affecting. Tell me about his poor wife ; and what children has he left, and what are they doing ? " It will be a great loss to you too. Do you remember our ride together to Keswick some thirty-two years ago? We have all a common ground in the past. I have told Macmillan to send you a little book, of which the chief 46 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. recommendation is that I believe it is the sort of book my father -woiild have been impelled to make if he had had to do with schools for the poor. My kind regards to your wife. " Affectionately j'ours, "Matthew Aekold" rroin Foxhow George went to visit another of his most intimate school friends. During that visit he gave another proof of coolness and courage of a rare kind, and also of his singular modesty. We at home only heard of what had happened through the newspapers, and never could get him to do anything more than pooh-pooh the whole affair. In fact, the first accurate description of the occur- rence came to me after his death, in the letter to his sister which follows. It is written by the schoolfellow just referred to : — " DUS.SELDORF, Jttme Uh, 1872. "My peas Mrs. Senior, " Tour very kind letter of the 20th May has just reached me here : and I cannot express in writing one tithe of what I feel. I had no idea of the news it had in store for me ; for, having. been travelling about lately, I had missed the announcement of the sad loss which we have all had ; and so your letter fell on me as a thunderbolt. Poor dear old George! old in the language of affection, ever since we were all at Eugby. Oh ! how much I regret now that I never found time in these last few idle years of my life to pay him a visit. And yet, to the brightness and pleasure of my recollections of him, nothing could be added. To II.] RUGBY. 47 the very last he was what he was at the very first : a giant, with a giant's gentleness and firmness. You may perhaps none of you know that he always felt sure boating was too violent an exercise for anyone. I remember well (and now how sorrowfully) one conversation in which he told me how many of the best oars had fallen in the midst of apparent health and strength. How little did I then think he was to go ! and yet I recollect I carried away with me from that conversation an idea that he suspected he had heart-complaint. Was this the case ? " But I will not trouble you to write out to me abroad ; for I trust I may soon return to England, and then I shall take the liberty of writing to ask you to see me at Lavender HiU. "You ask about his stopping the horses at Escrick. It was in 1840 or 1841. He had been left with my two eldest brothers to come home last ; and whilst these two brothers were calling at our York Club, George was left sitting alone in the carriage. Suddenly the driver fell off the box in a fit, upon the horses, and they started off. George remembered that in the six-mile drive home there are two right-angled turns ; sa he determined to get out, run along the pole, and stop the horses. The first time he tried was in vain : steadying himself with his hand on the horses' quarters, he only frightened them more; so he coolly returned into the carriage again and waited tUl they had lost some of their speed. He then crept through the window again; ran quicker along the pole, caught their bearing reins, turned them round, and brought back the carriage in triumph to my brothers, who were anxious enough by that time ! And then the gentle modest look he had when we all praised him the next morning, I never can forget Oh, he charmed all : a better creature never lived. 48 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. "Tell Ms boTS from me lie never could have dreamt even of any divergence from truth. As all men of power, he seemed silent and receptive rather than busy; and where you left him, you picked him up ; though the interval might have been ever so long a one. " I remain, your most sincerely, "Stephen W. Lawley." CHAPTER III. A FATHER'S LETTERS. If this memoir is to do for you, his sons and nephews, what I hope it may, you must be told of his weak points. Tou have seen already that he had to leave school half a year sooner than he would otherwise have left, because he was too easy-going as a sixth-form boy, and would not exert himself to keep order ; and he had a constitutional indolence, which led him to shirk trouble in small matters, and to leave things to manage themselves. This fault used to annoy your grandfather, who was always exceed- ingly particular as to business habits, such as answering letters, and putting things in their right places. When we first were allowed to use guns, he gave us special instruc- tions never to bring them into the house loaded. At the end of the Christmas holidays, just after George was made a praepostor, we brought our guns in loaded, and left them in the servants' hall during luncheon. After lunch, when we went to take them out again, by some carelessness Greorge's went off, and he narrowly escaped being shot, and K 50 MEMOIR OF A BROTRER. [chap. the charge went through two floors. Tour grandfather said nothing at the moment, but, soon afterwards, George's neglect to answer some questions on business matters produced from him the first of a series of letters, which certainly did us much good at the time, and I think may be just as useful to you. Most boys have the same kind of faults, and I cannot see that any of you need such advice less than we did. " Three questions I put to you in recent letters. These, supposing me simply a common acquaintance, and in a position to ask the questions, should have been promptly answered, and it is but reasonable to claim what is due to any Mr. Jones or Mr. Jobson. Without self-command enough to be punctual and methodical, you cannot realize your plans as to more serious things than I now write about ; nor, indeed, can you do anything effective in study without it. Eead as much as you will, it wiU be like filling the sieve of the Danaids. Biit to drop fine meta- phors and come to plain English, in heaven's name begin to be wide awake to the common exigencies and obser- vances of life. You can see distant and abstracted things well enough; but in such common things as are under- stood and practised by every boy behind a counter who is worth his salt, you are in the state of a blind puppy in the straw. I do not speak with the least anger on the subject ; but, as a man of common worldly sense, I cannot too pointedly and forcibly urge on j^ou, that without a complete alteration in this respect, everything of real im- portance which you attempt in the business of life will be an absolute failure. You swear by Scott. EecoUect Athelstan the Unready. He gives ample proof of both III.] A FATHER'S LETTERS. 51 high valour and sound sense,- and, when roused jfrom his ruminative state, is even forcibly eloquent (where he floors the insolence of De Bracj). Yet he is the butt of the whole piece, because he is always ten minutes after time in thought and action ; albeit he is by nature a finer character than Cedric, and twice as big and well-bom. But every- one minds Cedric because he knows his own will and purpose, and carries it out promptly, with the power of seeing such things as are directly before his nose." Geoige's reply appears to have contained some state- ment as to his intentions in the matter of reading, as well as satisfactory answers to the neglected questions. Your grandfather, however, returns to the charge again : — " I fully believe you have every desire and intention to follow up the course I wish, though your own experience in the vacation must have shown you that this desire is not enough unless backed by determination and method. I should not wish you to debar yourself of. the fuU portion of healthy exercise desirable at your age, which is like 'the meat and mass which hindereth no man,' as our quaint old English expresses it. But I certainly wish you to recollect that the present year" [1838 — ^he was seventeen] " is one of the most important in your life, as you are just of the age when the character forms itself one way or the other, and when time becomes valuable in a double degree. You told me of your own accord that your wish was to distin- guish yourself at Oxford. If you are as certain as I am that this wish is a wise and desirable one, the next point is, to let it become one of those determinations which are only qualified by 'Deo volente.' With the foundation which has been already laid, the thing is undoubtedly in E 2 52 MEMOIR OF A BBOTHEB. [chap. your power, with life and health ; and, if these fail us, the fault lies not in ourselves. The secret of attaining anj- point is, not so much in the quantity of time bestowed on it at regular and stated interx'^als, as in the strong wiU and inclination which makes it a matter of curiosity and interest, recurring to us at odds and ends of time, and never out of the mind ; a labour of inclination rather than a matter of duty — a chase, as it were, of a wild duck " [we lived close to a river where wild ducks bred], " instead of a walk for the promotion of health and appetite. This sort of interest anyone may create on anything he pleases : for . it is an artificial taste, not perhaps so easily understood at your time of life. . . . Industry in one's vocation, when an honest and creditable one, is a Christian duty, although followed by persons indifferent to anything but self-interest. And it usually pleases God so to dispose of the course of events, that those best qualified to be useful to ~ others in their generation have the best prospect of success in it. . . . The knowledge of history, divinity, and the dead languages, which you are now acquiring, are the basis of a liberal education, and play into each other as naturally as the hilt of a weapon fits the blade : these therefore are the points of leading interest in your life, in which your push shotild be made. Composition also is a valuable thin", in order to impart clearly to others what you know yourself, and prevent your candle from being hid under a bushel ; and nothing bears a higher value ia the world than this faculty. Mathematics are good, as they strengthen the attention and clear the head. In these I see you took a first class, and as I think you have a turn for them, I trust you will hold your present footing without sacrificing things which hereafter may be more essential A fair progress in modem languages is not to be neglected ; but the great points of interest are such as I have laid down, yiz. knowledge of III.] A FATBER'S LETTERS. 53 the connejcion, and leading features, of sacred and profane history ; a true digestion of it in your head, and the power of clearly expressing whatever thoughts arise from it ; and a critical acquaintance with the original languages from which the knowledge is derived. This, I have no doubt, will correspond with Dr. Arnold's ideas as to the objects and direction of study in your case. In short, make up your mind what you will do, what you will be, and what portion of success you may fairly hope for by fairly point- ing your nose to the desirable end ; then keep it pointed there as steadily as the pin of the dial (' gnomon ' if you want to be learned). And remember, that the more irksome any habit is in its forvfwbtion, the more pleasantly and satisfac- torily it sticks to you ivhen formed. Order and clockwork in small things is what you want. Exempli gratia, the key of the pew-box gave us a long hunt the other day, till in going to church we found it sticking in the lock. Then, none of you ever put a book in its place again. N. S does, because he learned the habit from compulsion, and it has become second nature." " DONNINGTON, 1839. " Tour mother and grandmother are both anxious that some destination should be early fixed for aU of you ; but on this I, who am more answerable, am rather cautious ; feeling that much depends on what your own habits and predilections may be. At all events the right basis of every one's education is this — to love God and your neighbour, and do your duty with diligence in whatever state of life circumstances may place you. No one can live in vain acting on these principles, and whatever tends not to their establishment is of very trifling importance. I have no time to pursue the subject further at present, as this is a busy morning, and your mother will want a good 54 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. share of this paper. I have hegun another folio to Jack. N.B. You always have luck when I begin a letter, as I take a folio sheet in the spirit of foresight. Wat never brought Ms fishing-rod in; he is old enough now to cultivate orderly habits, and eschew (not chew) mouse pie. N.B. Eschew comes from Teutonic schwwe.m, to shudder at." Again in 1840, referring to this indolent, easy-going habit, your grandfather writes : — " The temper of mind which I mean is often allied (and in your case I trust and believe it is) to certain qualities, good ia a social and Christian sense : candour, good nature, and a contented spirit ; just as certain peculiar weeds are frequently the indication of a sound and wholesome staple of sou : but then they an weeds, and it is a Christian duty to eradicate them in the labourer responsible for the care of the soD. In this respect the children of this world are the wisest in their generation. We may safely take examples of s kill, activity, and abiding interest in a purpose, from the worst and most selfish men ; and those who are wise, as well as good, do take the example, and profit by it. Not but that young persons constitutionally indolent, if they are also conscientious in their duty to their friends, and correct in the general notion that industry in a calling is a duty, do complete their stated hours of study in an honest and competent manner. And this is precisely, your case ; a case which has put me in an awkward position in point- ing out your deficiencies. It is an ungracious thmg to tease and spur a tractable, good-tempered horse, who trots his seven miles an hour of his own accord, even when you know that he has the blood and power in him to go up to the best hounds with due training, and it is hard to treat iii.J A FATHER'S LETTERS. 55 one's son worse than one's horse (or than one's servants, for your mother truly taxes me with not keeping my household tightly up to their duties). These deficiencies nevertheless exist, and are indicated by many small traits. Now, indo- lence in my sense, and as applied to you, is exactly in the correct sense of the word-;—' in ' (non) and ' doleo,' viz., as the Scots say, ' canna be fashed' — cannot, unless led by some moral duty, or exigence of society, jump upon my legs and go about some little, teasing, but necessary five minutes' errand, or turn my mind for the same time, by a sudden jerk, to something which breaks up the prevailing train of thought. This is a constitutional failing of my own, and I have been forced to establish rules iu some things to break it through. But I never was tempted by it so as to leave anything to chance where any favourite project was con- cerned ; here I expended perhaps too much accuracy and double diligence. Hence I fear the evil is more deeply seated in you. The last example is this : — On inspecting and laying up the two double guns, I found the inside of one rusty, the other black from careless cleaning. Now, no thoroughbred sportsman ever contents himself, when laying up his tools in ordinary, with trusting to his servant's care, and not his own eye, in cleaning. Yet you are a good shot — doubtless because you like shooting, and employ while in the field all the power of your mind and body to attain your purpose. "What is wanting is, the submission to dry detail (id quod dolet). But no one can be a thorough and efficient master of anything who cannot see to details. Pump away with all your might, and welcome, but your labour will be thrown away if you won't submit to stop the leaks in your tub. It is exactly from the same temper that I have seen you take up a book in company when rather dull. True, the book is the more sensible companion, but the time and place prescribes ' quod dolet,' though not 66 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. so agreeable, or edifying. Thus it is in fifty things, all arguing a want of that order, and exactness, resulting from the due division of the mind. I could even argue it from the trifling trait of your never carrying a tassel to -wipe your arrows with, and leaving your books open on the table for the maids to spUl ink or dust on. T can prescribe for you in future in these respects, if you wUl trust yourself to me cheerfully, and not look aguish and woe-begone when spurred up to the mark by a word in season." And again in 1842 : — " As an illustration is necessary to a theme, suppose two garden engines of equal capacity, one leaky and loosely constructed, the other well staunched, which does not waste a drop of water. Tou may cobble and plug up the first pro tern,., and by working it with a strong arm make it play well : anon it leaketh again, and without a strong and troublesome effort it is no go. The second is tight and compact at a moment's notice, and throws its stream with precision, just as much as is wanted, and where it is wanted — (fxavavTa avueroiaiv. " I think there has been some improvement this year in your briskness and precision, but there is room for more. Straws show which way the wind blows. Videlicet, the not having looked in the calendar.^ Then you keep your watch with your razors, and never can tell me what's o'clock. With respect to your capacity for giving your might and main to a subject, when you are at it, I know enough to be well satisfied, and have no criticism to make." ' As to sending in prize exercises at Oxford. A copy of his \ra3 too late. III.] A FATHER'S LETTERS. 57 The last reference of this kind which I find in your grandfather's letters, which were always carefully preserved by George, occurs in 1846. After referring to an omission to notice the transfer of some money to his account, your grandfather goes on : — " By the bye, I certainly am under the impression that you shrink from the trouble of details and cares of this kind ; the same impression which I entertained five or six years ago. You must yourself know best whether I am right or not, and it is tww of importance that you should candidly ask yourself the question, and, if self-convicted, turn completely over a new leaf, on account of having others soon to act and manage for, as master of a house. I need hardly tell you I suppose that, in all points of para- mount importance, your character has formed in a manner which has given me thorough satisfaction, and that your friends and relatives have just reason for appreciating you highly as a member of society. I will also add, and with truth, that I know no man of your age, who, if placed in a difficult situation, would in my opinion act with more sense, firmness, and discretion; and this is much indeed. But the possession of a naturally decisive and influential cha- racter is just what requires digested method in small and necessary things ; otherwise the defect is more ridiculously anomalous than in a scatter-brained fellow, whom no one looks up to, or consults. It is a godsend if a beggar is any better than barefoot, but what would you say to a well- dressed man otherwise, who had forgotten his feet, and came into a drawing-room with a pair of greasy slippers ? Without buttering you up, yours happens to be a character which, to round it off consistently and properly, demands accuracy in small and irksome things. In some respects 68 MEMOIR OF A BBOTRER. [ch. in. I really think you have acquired this ; in otliers, are acquiring it ; and have no doubt that when ten years older, you will have progressed in a suitable degree. Mean- time, if you are conscious that anything is wanting in these respects, it is higli time now to put on the steam." As a slight illustration of the effect of these letters, I may add here, that to the end of his life, when he came in from shooting, my brother never rested untU he had cleaned his gun with his own hands. When asked why he did not leave it to the keeper, he said he preferred its being done at once, and thorouglily ; and the only way of being sure of that, was to do it himself. In some respects, however, he never got over his constitutional love of taking things easily, and avoiding bother and trouble. CHAPTEE IV. OXFORD. My brother went up to Oxford full of good resolves as to reading, which he carried out far better than most men do, although undoubtedly, after his first year, his popularity, by enlarging the circle of his acquaintance to an incon- venient extent, somewhat interfered with his studies. Your grandfather was delighted at having a son likely to distinguish himself actually resident in his own old College. In liis time it had occupied the place in the LFniversity now held by BaUiol. Copleston and Whately had been his tutors ; and, as he had resided a good deal after taking his degree, he had seen several generations of distinguished men in the common room, including Arnold, Blanco White, Keble, Pusey, and Hampden. Moreover, there was a tradition of University distinction in his family ; his father had been Setonian Prizeman and Chancellor's Medallist at Cambridge, and he himself had carried off the Latin verse prize, and one of the Eng- lish Odes recited before the United Sovereigns, when they 60 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. paid a visit to the Oxford Commemoration in 1814<, witli Wellington, Bliicher, and a host of the great soldiers of that day. His anxiety as to George's start at Oxford manifested itself in many ways, and particularly as to the want of punctuality, and accuracy in small matters, which he had already noticed. As a delicate lesson on this subject, I find him taking advantage of the fact that George's watch was in the hands of the maker for repairs, to send him liis own chronometer, adding: "As your sense of trust-' worthiness in little and great things is a considerably multiplied multiple of your care for your own private property (which doubtless will grow to its right propor- tion when you have been cheated a little), I have no doubt old Trusty wiU return to me in as good order as when he left me. Furthermore, it is possible you may take a fancy to him when you have learnt the value of an unfailing guide to punctuality. In which case, if you can teU me at the end of term that you have, to the best of your belief, made the most of your time, I wUl with great pleasure swap with you. As to what is making the best of your time, you would of course like to have my ideas. Thus, then" and your grandfather proceeds to give a number of rules, founded on his own old Oxford experience, as to reading, and goes on : — " All this, you will say, cuts out a tolerably full employ- ment for the term. But when you can call this in your ly.] OXFORD. 01 recollections, ' terminus alba cretd Twtandus,' it will be wortli trouble. I believe the intentions of most freslimen are good, and the first term generally well spent : the second and third are often the trial, when one gets confidence in oneself; and the sense of what is right and honourable must come in place of that deference for one's superior officers, which is at first instinctive. I am glad you find you can do as you please, and choose your own society without making yourself at all remarkable. So I found, for the same reasons that facilitate the matter to you. Domestic or private education, I believe, throws more difficulties in the way of saying ' No ' when it is your pleasure so to do, and the poor wight only gets laughed at instead of culti- vated. After all, one may have too many acquaintance, unexceptionable though they be. But I do not know that niuch loss of time can occur to a person of perfectly sobci- habits, as you are, if he leaves wine parties with a clear head at chapel time, and eschews supping and lounging, and lunching and gossiping, and tooling in High Street, and such matters, which belong more to particular cliques than to a generally extended acquaintance in College. In all these things, going not as a raw lad, but as a man of nineteen, with my father's entire confidence, I found I could settle the thing to my satisfaction in no time : your circumstances are precisely the same, and the result will probably be the same. I applaud, and KvSi^e, and clap you on the back for rowing : row, box, fence, and walk with all possible sturdiness. Another thing : I believe an idea pre- vails that it is necessary to ride sometimes, to show yourself of equestrian rank. If you have any mind this way, write to PrankHn to send Stevens with your horse ; keep him a few weeks, and I wiU allow you a £5 note to assert your equestrian dignity, now or at any other time. This is a better style of thing than piaffing about on hired Oxford 62 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [cmap. cocky-horses, like Jacky Popkin, and all such, half-measures. The only objection to such doings is, that you certainly do see a style of men always across a horse who are fit for nothing else, and 7wn constat that they always know a hock from a stifle-joint. But this is only per aeddens. And if you have a fancy for an occasional freak this way, remember I was bred in the saddle, and, whatever my present opinions may be from longer experience, can fully enter into your ideas." You will see by his answer how readily Gteorge entered . into some of his father's ideas, though I don't think he ever sent for his horse. A few weeks later, in 1841, he writes : — " Now to answer your last letters. I shall be delighted to accept you as my prime minister for the next two years. Any plan of reading which you chalk out for me I think I shall be able to pursue— at least I am sure I will try to do so. Men reading for honours now generally employ ' a coach.' If you will condescend to be my coach, I will try to answer to the whip to the best of my power." Tour grandfather accepted the post with great pleasure ; and there are a number of his letters, full of hints and directions as to study, which I hope you may all read some day, but which would make this memoir too long. You will see later on how well satisfied he was with the general result, though in one or two instances he had sad disappointments to bear, as most fathers have who are anxious about their sons' work. The first of these hap- IV.] OXFORD. 63 pened this year. He was specially anxious that George should write for the Latin Verse, which prize he himself had won. Accordingly George wrote in his first year, hut, instead of taking his poem himself to the Proctor's when he had finished it, left it with his College tutor to send in. The consequence was, it was forgotten till after the last day for delivery, and so could not be received. This was a sad trial to your grandfather, hoth because he had been very sanguine as to the result, and because here was another instance of George's carelessness about his own affairs, and want of punctuality in smaE things. However, he wrote so kindly about it, that George was more annoyed than if he had been very angry, and set to work on the poem for the next year as soon as the subject was announced, which I remember was " Noachi JDUuvium!' You may be sure that now the poem went in in good time, but in due course the Examiners an- nounced that no prize would be given for the year. I do not know that any reason was ever given for this unusual course, which surprised everyone, as it was known that several very good scholars, including, I believe, the late Head-master of Marlborough, had been amongst the com- petitors. Your grandfather was very much vexed. He suhmitted George's poem to two of his old college friends, Dean Milman and liishop Lonsdale, both of whom had been Latin prizemen ; and, when they expressed an opinion that, in default of better copies of verses, these should 64 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. have been entitled to the prize, he had them printed, ■with the following heading: — " The refusal of the Official Committee of Examiners to award any prize for the Oxford Latin verse of 1842, has naturally led to a supposition that the scholarship and intelligence of the competitors has fallen short of the usual standard. Having, however, perused the following copy of verses, which are probably a fair specimen of those sent in, I am inclined to think, as a graduate and some- what, conversant with such subjects, that this discou- , raging inference is unfoimded, and that the committee have been influenced in their discretion by some unex- plained reason, involving no reflection on the candidates for the prize, as compared with those of former years." The real fact I believe to have been, so far as George was concerned, that there were two false quantities in his verses ; and though these were so palpable, as your grandfather remarked, " as to be obvious to any fifth-form boy, and plainly due to carelessness in transcription, and want of revision by a second person," the Examiners were clearly not bound to make allowances for such carelessness. Many years after, in a letter to his sister, on some little success of her boy at Rugby, George writes : — " I congratulate you on Walter's success. We are much more interested for our brats than we were for ourselves. I remember how miserable my poor father made himself once when I did not get a Latin Verse prize at Oxford, and /v.] OXFORD. 65 how much more sony I was for him than for myself. Any- how, there is no pleasure equal to seeing one's children distinguish themselves — ^it makes one young again." But I must return to his freshman's year at Oxford. I have told you already that this was our first separa- tion of any lengtL I did not see him from the day he went to Oxford in January until our Eughy Eleven went up to Lords, at the end of the half-year, for the match with the M.C.C. It was the first time I had ever played there, and of course I was very full of it, and fancied the match the most important event which was occurring in England at the time. One of our Eleven did not turn up, and George was allowed to play for us. He was, as usual, a tower of strength in a boys' Eleven, because you could rely on his nerve. When the game was going badly, he was always put in to keep up his wicket^ and very seldom failed to do it. On this occasion we were in together, and he made a long score, but, I thought, did not play quite in his usual style ; and on talking the matter over with him when we got home, I found that he had not been playing at Oxford, but had taken to boating. I expressed my sorrow at this, and spoke disparagingly of boating, of which I knew nothing whatever. We cer- tainly had a punt in the stream at home, but it was too narrow for oars, and I scarcely knew a stretcher from a rowlock. He . declared that he was as fond of cricket as ever, but that in the whole range of sport, even including 66 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. ■hunting, there was no excitement like a good neck-and- neck boat-race, and that I should come to think so too. At this time his boating career had only just begun, and rowing was rather at a discount at Oxford. For several years Cambridge had had their own way with the dark blues, notably in this very year of 1841. But a radical reformer had just appeared at Oxford, whose in- fluence has lasted to the present day, and to whom the substitution of the long stroke with sharp catch at the beginning (now universally accepted as the only true form) for the short, digging " waterman's'' stroke, as it used to be called, is chiefly due. This was Fletcher Menzies, then captain of the University College boat. He had already begun to train a crew on his own principles, in opposition to the regular University crew, and, amongst others, had selected my brother, though a freshman, and had taken him frequently down the river behind himself in a pair- oar. The first result of this instruction was, that my brother won the University pair-oar r5.ce, pulling stroke to another freshman of his own college. In Michaelmas Term, 1841, it became clear to aU judges of rowing that the opposition was triumphant. F. Menzies was elected captain of the 0. U. B. C, and chose my brother as his No. 7, so that on my arrival at Oxford in the spring of 1842, I found him training in the Univer- sity crew. The race with Cambridge was then rowed in the summer, and over the six-mile course, between "West- IV.] OXFORD. 67 minster and Putney bridges. This year the day selected was the 12th of June. I remember it well, for I was playing at the same time in the Oxford and Cambridge match at Lord's. The weather was intensely hot, and we were getting badly beaten. So confident were our oppo- nents in the prowess of their University, that, at dinner in the Pavilion, they were offering even bets that Cambridge would win all three events — the cricket match, the race at Westminster, and the Henley Cup, which was to be rowed for in the following week. This was too much for us, and the bets were freely taken; I myself, for the first and last time in my life, betting five pounds with the King's man who sat next me. Before our match was over the news came up from the river that Oxford had won. It was the last race ever rowed by the Universities over the long six-mile course. To suit the tide, it was rowed down, from Putney to Westminster Bridge. My brother unluckily lost his straw hat at the start, and the intense heat on his head caused him terrible distress. The boats were almost abreast down to the Battersea reach, where there were a number of lighters moored in mid stream, waiting for the tide. This was the crisis of the race. As the boats separated, each taking its own side, i^an. the Cambridge coxswain, called on his crew: Shadwell, the Oxford coxswain, heard him, and called on his own men ; and when the boats came in sight of each other again from behind the lighters, Oxford was well ahead. But my f2 6S MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. brother was getting faint from the effects of the sun on his head, when Shadwell reminded him of the slice of lemon which was placed in each man's thwart. He snatched it up, and at the same time F. Menzies took oif his own hat and gave it him; and, when the boat shot under Westminster Bridge with a clear lead, he was quite himself again. In our college boat — of which he was now stroke, and which he took with a brilliant rush to the head of the' river, bumping University, the leading boat, to which his captain, P. Menzies, was still stroke, after two very severe races — he always saw that every man had a small slice of lemon at the stait, in memory of the Battersea reach. Ifext year (1843), owing to a dispute about the time, there was no University race over the London course, but the crews were to meet at the Henley Eegatta. The meeting was looked forward to with more than ordinary interest, as party feeling was running high between the Universities. In the previous year, after their victory in London, the Oxford boat had gone to Henley, but had -withdrawn, in consequence of a decision of the stewards, allowing a man to row in the Cambridge crew who had already rowed in a previous heat, in another boat. So the cup remained in the possession of the Cambridge Eooms, a London rowinw club, composed of men who had left college, and of the best oarsmen still at the University. If the Cambridge Eooms could hold the challenge cup this year also, it would become IV.] OXFORD. 69 their property. But •vre had little fear of this, as Menzies' crew was in better form than ever. He had beaten Cam- bridge University in 1842, and we were confident would do it again ; and, as the Eooms were never so strong as the University, we had no doubt as to the result of the final heat also. I remember walking over from Oxford the night before the regatta, with a friend, full of these hopes, and the consternation with which we heard, on arriving at the town, that the Cambridge University boat had with- drawn, so that the best men might be draughted from it into the Eooms' crew, the holders of the cup. Those only who have felt the extraordinary interest which these con- tests excite can appreciate the dismay with which this announcement filled us. Our boat would, by this arrange- ment, have to contend with the picked oars of two first- class crews; and we forgot that, after all, though the individual men were better, the fact of their not having trained regularly together made them really less for- midable competitors. But far worse news came in the morning. F. Menzies had been in the Schools in the previous month, and the strain of his examination, com- bined with training for the race, had been too much for him. He was down with a bad attack of fever. What was to be done ? It was settled at once that my brother should row stroke, and a proposal was made that the vacant place in the boat should be filled by one of Men- zies' college crew. The question went before the stewards. 70 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. who, after long deliberation, determined that this could not he allowed. In consequence of the dispute in tlie previous year, they had decided, that only those oarsmen whose names had been sent in could row in any given race. I am not sure where the suggestion came from, I believe from Menzies himself that his crew should row the race with seven oars ; but I well remember the indig- nation and despair with which the final announcement was received. However, there was no help for it, and we ran down the bank to the starting-place by the side of our crippled boat, with sad hearts, cheering them to show our appreciation of their pluck, but without a spark of hope as to the result. When they turned to take up their place for the start, we turned also, and went a few hundred yards up the towing- path, so as to get start enough to enable us to keep up with the race. The signal-gun was fired, and we saw the oars flash in the water, and began trotting up the bank with our heads turned over our shoulders. First one, and then another, cried out that " we were holding our own," that " light blue was not gaining." In another minute they were abreast of us, close together, but the dark blue flag the least bit to the front. A third of the course was over, and, as we rushed along and saw the lead improved foot by foot, almost inch by inch, hope came back, and the excitement made running painful. In another minute, as they turned the corner and got into the straight reach, the 17.1 OXFORD. VI crowd became too dense for running. We could not keep up, and could only follow with our eyes and shouts, as we pressed up towards the bridge Before we could reach it the gun fired, and the dark blue flag was run up, showing that Oxford had won. Then followed one of the temporary fits of delirium which sometimes seize Englishmen, .the sight of which makes one slow to disbeUeve any crazy story which is told of the doings of other people in moments of intense excitement. The crew had positively to fight their way into their hotel, and barricade themselves there, to escape being carried round Henley on our shoulders. The enthu- siasm, frustrated in this direction, burst out in all sorts of follies, of ■which you may take this as a specimen. The heavy toll-gate was puUed down, and thrown over the bridge into the river, by a mob of young Oxonians headed by a small, decorous, shy man in spectacles, who had probably never pulled an oar in his life, but who liad gone temporarily mad with excitement, and I am confident would, at that moment, have led his followers not only against the Henley constables, but against a regiment with fixed bayonets. Fortunately, no harm came of it but a few broken heads and black eyes, and the local authorities, making allowances for the provocation, were lenient at the next petty sessions. The crew went up to London from Henley, to row for the Gold Cup, in the Thames Eegatta, which had just been 72 MEMOIR OF A BttOTRER. [chap. established. Here they met the Cambridge Eooms' crew again, strengthened by a new No. 3 and a new stroke, and ■ the Leander, then in its glory, and won the cup after one of the finest and closest races ever rowed. There has been much discussion as to these two races ever since in the boating world, in which my brother was on oiie occasion induced to take part. "The Oxford University came in first," was his account, " with a clear lead of the Leander, the Cambridge crew overlapping the Leander. We were left behind at the start, and had great difficulty in passing our opponents, not from want of pace, but from want of room." And, speaking of the Henley race, which was said to have been won against a " scratch crew," he adds : " A ' scratch crew ' may mean anything short of a perfectly trained crew of good materials. Anyone who cares about it will find the names of the Eooms' crew at p. 100 of Mr. Mac- michael's book, and by consulting the index will be able to form a judgment as to the quality of our opponents. We had a very great respect for them. I never attempted to exaggerate the importance of the ' seven oars' race,' and certainly never claimed to have beaten a Cambridge Uni- versity crew on that occasion." It will always remain, however, one of the most interesting of the heroic records of a noble English spcrt. He announced his own triumphs at home as follows, from the Golden Cross, where the Oxford crew then stopped : — • IV.] OXFORD. 73 " ]My dear Father and Mother, — I should have been with you yesterday, but was obliged to wait because they had not finished the gold oars which we liave won at Putney. We have been as successful here as we were at Henley, and I hope I shall bring home the cup to show you. 1 shall be home to-morrow, and very glad to get to Donuington again. I don't feel the least unsettled by these proceedings, and am in an excellent humour for reading." The two great cups came to Donnington, and remained for the year on your grandfather's sideboard, who could never quite make up his mind about them ; pride at his son's extraordinary prowess being dashed with fears as to the possible effects on him. George himself, at this time^ certainly had no idea that he was at all the worse for it, and maintained in his letters that pulling " is not so severe exercise as boxing or fencing hard for an hour." " You may satisfy yourselves "I shall not overdo it. I have always felt the better for it as yet, but if I were to feel the least inconvenience I should give it up at once." One effect the seven-oar race had on our generation at Oxford : it made boating really popular, which it had not been tiU then. I, amongst others, was quite converted to my brother's opinion, and began to spend all my spare time on the water. Our college entered for the University four-oar races in the following ifovember Term, and, to my intense delight, I was selected for No. 2, my brother pulling stroke. 74 MEMOIR OF A BKOTHER. [chap. Our first heat was against Balliol, and through my awk- wardness it proved to be tlae hardest race my brother ever rowed. At the second stroke after the start I caught a crab (to use boating phrase), and such a bad one that the head of our boat was forced almost into the bank, and v^e lost not a stroke or two, but at least a dozen, Balliol going away with a lead of two boats' lengths and more. Few strokes would have gone on in earnest after this, and I am not sure that my brother would, but that it was my first race for a University prize. As it was, he turned round, took a look at Balliol, and just said, "Shove her head out ! Now then," and away we went. Of course I was burning with shame, and long- ing to do more than my utmost to make up for my clumsi- ness. The boat seemed to spring under us, but I could feel it was no doing of mine. Just before the Gut we were almost abreast of them, but, as they had the choice of water, we were pushed out into mid stream, losing half a boat's length, and having now to pull up against the full current while Balliol went up on the Oxford side under the willows. Our rivals happened also to be personal friends, and I remember well becoming conscious as we struggled up the reach that I was alongside, first of their stroke, the late Sir H. Lambert, then of No. 3, W. Spottiswoode, and at last, as we came to the Cherwell, just before the finish," of our old schoolfellow, T. Walrond, who was pulling the bow oar. I felt that the race was won, for they had now to come across to us ; and won it was, but only by a few feet. IV.] OXFORD. 75 I don't think the rest of us were much more distressed than we had been before in college races. But my brother's head drooped forward, and he could not speak for several seconds. I should have learnt then, if I had needed to learn, that it is the stroke who wins boat i-aces. Our next heat against University, the holders of the cup was a much easier affair. We won by some lengths, and my brother had thus carried off every honour which an oarsman can win at the University, except the scuUs, for which he had never been able to enter. I cannot remember any race in which he pulled stroke and was beaten. There are few pleasanter memories in my life than those of the river-side, when we were training behind him in our college crew. He was perhaps a thought too easy, and did not keep us quite so tightly in hand as the captains of some of the other leading boats kept their men. But the rules of training were then barbarous, and I think we were all the better for not being strictly limited even in the matter of a draught of cold water, or compelled to eat our meat half cooked. He was most judicious in all the work- ing part of training, and no man ever knew better when to give his crew the long Abingdon reach, and when to be content with IfEley or Sandford. At the half-hour's rest at those places he would generally sit quiet, and watch the skittles, wrestling, quoits, or feats of strength which were going on all about. But if he did take part in them, he almost always beat everyone else. I only remember 76 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. one occasion on "whicli he was fairly foilecL In consequence of his intimacy with F. Menzies, our crew were a great deal with that of University College, and much friendly rivalry existed between us. One afternoon one of their crew/ E. Mansfield, brother of George's old vaulting anta- gonist, rode down to Sandford, where, in the field near the inn, there was always a furze hurdle for young gentlemen to leap over. In answer to some chaffing remark, Mans- field turned round, and, sitting with his face towards his horse's taU, rode him over this hurdle. Several of us tried it after him, George amongst the number, but we all failed ; and of course declared that it was all a trick, and that his horse was trained to do it under him, and to refuse under anybody else. The four-oar race was the last of my brother's boating triumphs. At the end of the term he gave up rowing, as his last year was beginning, and he was anxious to get more time for his preparation for the Schools. I am not sure that he succeeded in this as, strong exercise of some kind being a necessity to him, iie took to playing an occa- sional game at cricket, and was caught and put into the University Eleven. He pulled, however, in one more great race, in the Thames Regatta of 1845, when he was still resident as a bachelor, attending lectures. Number 6 in the Oxford boat broke down, and his successor applied to him to fill the place, to which he assented rather un- J Author of " The Log of tlie Water Lily," &o. iv.J OXFORD. Tr willingly. The foUowiug extract from a letter to his father gives the result, and the close of his boating career : — " You will have seen that Oxford was unsuccessful in London for the Grand Cup, but I really think we should have won it had it not been for that unlucky foul. I only consented to take an oar in the boat because they said they could not row without me, and found myself weU up to the work." He always retained his love for rowing, and came up punctually every year to take his place on the umpire's boat at the University race, to which he had a prescriptive claim as an old captain of the O.U.B.C And this chapter may fitly close with a boating song, the best of its kind that I know of, which he wrote at ray request. It appeared in Mr. Severn's " Almanac of English Sports," published at Christmas 1868. I had rashly promised the editor to give him some verses for March, on the University race, and put it off till it was time to go to press. When my time was limited by days, and I had to sit down to my task in the midst of other work, I found that the knack of rhym- ing had left me, and turned naturally to the brother who had helped me in many a copy of verses thirty years back. I sent him down some dozen hobbling lines, and within a post or two I received from him the following, on the March Boat Eace : — 78 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. The wood sways and rocks in the fierce Equinox, The old heathen war-god bears rule in the sky. Aslant down the street drives the pitiless sleet. At the height of the house-tops the cloud-rack spins 1\v. Old Boreas may bluster, but gaily we'll muster, And crowd every nook on bridge, steamboat, and shore, With cheering to greet Cam and Isis, who meet For the Derby of boating, our f^te of the oar. " Off jackets ! " — each oarsman springs light to his seat. And we veterans, while ever more fierce beats the rain, Scan well the light form of each hardy athlete. And live the bright days of our youth once again. A fig for the weather ! they're off! swing together ! Tho' lumpy the water and furious the wind. Against a " dead noser " * our champions can row. Sir, And leave the poor " Citizens " panting behind. " Swing together ! " The Crab-tree, Barnes, Chiswick are past ; Now Mortlake — and hark to the signaling gun ! "While the victors, hard all, long and strong to the last, Kush past Barker's rails, and our Derby is won. Our Derby, unsullied by fraud and chicane. By thieves- Latin jargon, and leg's howling din — Our Derby, where " nobbling " and " roping " are vain. Where ail run their best, and the best men must win. No dodges we own but strength, courage, and science ; Grold rules not the fate of our Isthmian games ; In brutes — tho' the noblest — we place no reliance ; Our racers are men, and our turf is the Thames. ^ " Dead noser," the Tyne phrase for a wind in your teeth. IV.] OXFOHD. 79 The sons of St. Dennis in praise of their tennis, Of chases and volleys, may brag to their fill ; To the northward of Stirling, of golf, and of curling. Let the chiels wi' no trousers crack on as they will. Cricket, football, and rackets — but hold, I'll not preach. Every man to his fancy — I'm too old to mend — So give me a good stretch down the Abingdon reach, Six. miles every-inch, and " hard all" to the end. Then row, dear Etonians and Westminsters, row, Eow, hard-fisted craftsmen on Thames and on Tyne, Labuan,^ New Zealand, your chasubles ^ peel, and lu one spurt of hard work, and hard rowing, combine. Our maundering critics may prate as they please Of glory departed and influence flown — Eow and work, boys of England, on rivers and seas. And the old land shall hold, firm as ever, her own. 1 The Bishops were famous oarsmen. Dr. Macdongal rowed bow oar iu Menzies' boat, and was a dear friend of my brother's. '' Query: Do Bishops wear "chasubles?"— G. E. H. [Ifote appended by my brother to the original copy.] CHAPTER V. DEGREE. The Schools were now very near ahead of him, and, though not much behindhand with his work, considering the intensity of his exertions in other directions, he was anxious to make the most of the months that were left. He read very hard in vacation, but, when term began again, had to encounter unusual difficulties. His father's half-hinted warnings against a large acquaintance proved prophetic. In fact, I used to wonder how he ever got his reading done at all, and was often not a little annoyed with many of my own contemporaries, and other younger men still, even to the last batch of freshmen, whose fondness for his society was untempered by any thought of examinations, or honours. Not one of them could give a wine, or a breakfast party, without him, and his good-nature kept him from refusing when he found that his presence gave real pleasure. Then he never had the heart to turn them out of his rooms, or keep his oak habitually sported ; and when that most necessary cere- v.] DEGREE. 81 iiiony for a reading man had been performed,' it was not respected as it should have been. My rooms were on the same staircase, half a flight below his (which looked into the quadrangle, wldle mine looked out over the back of the College), so that 1 could hear all that happened. Our College lectures were all over at one. It was well for him if he had secured quiet up to that hour ; but, in any case, regularly within a few minutes after the clock had struck, I used to hear steps on the stairs, and a pause before his oak. If it was sported, kicking or knocking would follow, with imploring appeals, "Now, old 'un " (the term of endearment by which he went in College), "do open — I know you're in — only for two minutes." A short persistence seldom failed; and soon other men followed on the same errand, "for a few minutes only," till it was time for lunch, to which he would then be dragged off in one of their rooms, and his oak never get sported again till late at night Up to his last term in College this went on, though not to quite the same extent; and even then there was one incorrigible young idler, who never failed in his "open sesame," and wasted more of my brother's time than all the rest of the College. But who could be angry with him ? He was one of the smallest and most delicate men I ever saw, weighing about 8st. 101b., a capital rider, and as brave as a lion, though we always called him " the Mouse." Full of mother wit, but utterly unculti- o 82 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. vated, it •was a perfect marvel how he ever matriculated, and his answers, and attempts at construing, in lecture were fabulous — full of good impulse, but fickle as the wind ; reckless, spendthrift, fast, in constant trouble with tradesmen, proctors, and the CoUege authorities. But no tradesman, when it came to the point, had the heart to " court," or proctor to rusticate him ; and the Dean, though constantly in wrath at his misdeeds, never got beyond warnings, and "gating." So he held on, until Ma utter, - repeated, and hopeless failure to pass his " smalls," brought his college career to its inevitable end. Unfortunately for my brother's reading, that career coincided with his -third year, and his society had an extraordinary fascination for the Mouse. The perfect contrast between them, in mind and body, may probably account for this ; but I think the little man had also a sort of longing to be decent and respectable, and, in the midst of his wildest scrapes, felt that his intimacy with the best oar and cricketer in the College, who was also on good terms with the Dons, and paid his bills, and could write Greek verses, kept him in touch with the better life of the place, aud was a constant witness to hiinself of his intention to amend, some day. They had one taste in common, however, which largely accounted for my brother's undoubted affection for the little " ne'er do weel," a passion for animals. The Mouse kept two terriers, who were to him as children, lying in his bosom by night, and eating from his plate by day. V.J DEGREE. 83 Dogs were strictly forbidden in College, and the vigilance of the porter was proof against all the other pets. But the Mouse's terriers defied it. From living on such intimate terms with their master, they had become as sharp as undergraduates. They were never seen about the quadrangles in the day-time, and knew the sound and sight of dean, tutor, and porter, better than any freshman. When the Mouse went out of College, they would stay behind on the staircase till they were sure he must be fairly out in the street, and then scamper across the two quadrangles, and out of the gate, as if their lives depended on the pace. In the same way, on returning, they would repeat the process, after first looking cau- tiously in at the gate to see that the porter was safe in his den. But after dusk they were at their ease at once, and would fearlessly trot over the forbidden grass of the inner quad, or sit at the Provost's door, or on the Hall steps, and romp with anybody not in a master's gown. So, even when his master's knock remained ixnanswered, Crib's or Jet's beseeching whine and scratch would always bring my brother to the door. He could not resist dogs, or children. I have always laid my brother's loss of his first class at the door of his young friends, but chiefly on the Mouse, for that little man's delinquencies ctdminated in the most critical moment of the Schools. The Saturday before paper work began he had seduced George out for G 2 84 MSMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. an evening stroll with him, and of course took him through a part of the town which was famous for town-and-gown rows. Here, a baker carrying a tray shouldered the Mouse into the gutter. The Mouse thereupon knocked the baker's tray off his head. The baker knocked the little man over, and my brother floored the baker, who sat in the mud, and howled " Gown, gown." In two minutes a mob was on them, and they had to retreat fighting, which, owing to the reckless pugnacity of his small comrade, was an operation that tried all my brother's coolness and strength to the utmost. By the help, however, of Crib, who created timely diversions by attacking the heels of the town at critical moments, he succeeded in bringing the Mouse home, capless, with his gown in shreds, and his nose and mouth bleeding, but otherwise unhurt, at the cost to himself of a bad black-eye. The undergraduate remedies of leeches, raw beef-steak, and paint were diligently applied during the next thirty-six hours, but with very partial success ; and he had to appear in white tie and bands before the Examiners, on the Monday morning, with decided marks of battle on his face. In the evening, he wrote home : — " My deak Father, - " The first day of paper work is over ; I am sorry to say that I have not satisfied myself at all Although logic was my strongest point as I thought, yet through nervousness, or some other cause, I acquitted myself in a very slovenly v.] DEGREE. 85 manner; and I feel uei-v^oHs and down-hearted about the remainder of the work, because I know that I am not so strong on those points as I was in logic. I feel inclined myself to put off my degree, but I should like to know what you think about it; I could certainly get through, but I do not think I should do myself any credit, and I am sure I should not satisfy myself. I shall continue at the paper work till I hear from you. T should be veiy willing to give up any plans which I have formed for the vacation, and read quietly at home ; and I am sure I could put the affair beyond a doubt with a little more reading. But if you think I had better get rid of it at once, I will continue. I am in very good health, only, as I tell you, nervous and out of spirits. "Yours affectionately, "G. E. Hughes." His nervousness was out of place, as I ascertained afterwards from his tutor that the Examiners were very much pleased with his paper work. Indeed, I think that he himself soon got over his nervousness, and was well satisfied with his prospects when his turn came for viva, voce examination. I was foolish enough to choose the same day for sitting in the Schools, a ceremony one had to perform in the year preceding one's own examination. It involved attendance during the whole day, listening to the attack of the four experts in row at the long table, on the intellectual works of the single unfortunate, who sat facing them on the other side. This, when the victim happens to be your brother, is a severe and needless trial of nerves and patience. 86 MEMOIR OF A BROTHEB. [chap. For some time, however, I was quite happy, as George construed his Greek plays capitally, and had his Aristotle at his finger ends. He was then handed on to the third Examiner, who opened Livy and put him on somewhere in the bewildering Samnite wars, and, when he had constraed. closed the book as if satisfied, just putting him a casual question as to the end of the campaign, and its effect on home politics at Eome. No answer, for George was far too downright to attempt a shot ; and, as he told me afterwards, had not looked at this part of his Livy for more than a year. Of course other questions followed, and then a searching examination in this part of the liistory, which showed that my brother knew his Arnold's Eome well enough, but had probably taken up his livy on trust, which was very nearly the truth. I never passed a more unpleasant hour, for I happened to be up in this part of livy, and, if the theories of Mesmerism were sound, should certainly have been able to inspire him with the answers. As it was, I was on the rack all the time, and left the Schools in a doleful state of mind. I felt sure that he must lose his first class, and told the group of our men so, who gathered in the Schools quad- rangle to see the Honoure list posted. The Mouse, on the other hand, swore roundly that he was certain of his first, offering to back his opinion to any amount. I did not bet, but proved to be right. His name came out in the second class, there being only five in the first ; and we v.] DEGREE. 87 walked back to Oriel a disconsolate baud ; the Mouse, I reaUy believe, being more cast down than any of the party. I never told him that in my opinion he was himself not a little responsible. He was obliged to take his own name ofif the books shortly afterwards, and started for the Cape, leaving Crib and Jet, the only valuable possession I imagine that he had in the world, to my brother. They were lovingly tended to a good old age. Their old master joined the Mounted Eifles, in which corps (we heard at second hand, for he never wrote a letter) he fully maintained his character for fine riding and general recklessness, till he broke down altogether, and died some two years later. It is a sad little history, which carries its own moral CHAPTER VI. STAET IN LIFE. Mt brother, after taking his degree, remained up at Oxford in lodgings, attending lectures ; and, when I went out of College in the term before my own examination, I joined him, and once again we found ourselves living in a common sitting room. I think it was a very great pleasure to both of us ; and as soon as my troubles in the Schools were over, and the short leisure time which generally follows that event had set in, we began to talk over subjects which had hitherto been scarcely mentioned between us, but which, on the threshold of active life, were becoming of absorbing interest. In the previous autumn I had made a tour with a pupil in the Xorth of England and Scotland. I had gone, by choice, to commercial hotels in several of the large northern towns, as I had discovered that commercial rooms were the most likely places for political discussion, and was anxious to talk over the great question of that day with the very vigorous and able gentlemen who frequented them. The Anti-Corn-Law agitation was then at its height, w] START IN LIFE. 89 and, to cut a long story short, I had come liack from the North an ardent Freetrader. In other directions also I was rapidly falling away from the political faith in which we had heen tirouglit up. I am not conscious, indeed I do not believe, that Arnold's influence was ever brought to bear directly on English politics, in the case even of those boys who (like my brother and myself) came specially under it, in his own house, and in the sbcth form. What he did for us was, to make us think on the politics of Israel, and Rome, and Greece, leaving us free to apply the lessons he taught us in these, as best we could, to our own country. But now his life had been published, and had come like a revelation to many of us; explaining so much that had appeared inexplicable, and throwing a white light upon great sections, both of the world which we had realized more or less through the classics, and the world which -was lying under our eyes, and all around us, and which we now began, for the first time, to recognize as one and the same. The noble side of democracy was carrying me away. I was haunted by Arnold's famous sentence, "If there is one truth short of the highest for which I would gladly die, it is democracy without Jacobinism ; " and " the People's Charter" was beginning to have strange attrac- tions for me. It was just one of those crises in one's life in which nothing is so useful, or healthy, for one, as coining into direct and constant contact with an intellect stronger than 90 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. one's own, which looks at the same subjects from a widely different standpoint. Now, in the Anti-Com-Law agitation the leaders of the League were in the habit of using very ^dolent language. Their speeches were full of vehement attacks on the land- lords and farmers of England, and of pictures of countiy life as an inert mass of selfishness, tyranny, and stupidity. My brother's hatred of exaggeration and unfairness revolted against all this wild talk ; and his steady appeal to facts known to us both often staggered my new convictions. On the general economical question, imperfectly as I under- stood it, I think I often staggered him. But, on the other hand, when he appealed to the example of a dozen land- lords whom I knew (including your grandfather), and made me look at the actual relations between them and their tenants and their labourers, and ask myself whether these statements were not utterly untrue in their case and in the county we knew ; whether they were not probably just as untrue of other counties ; and, if that were so, whether a cause which needed such libels to support it could be a just one, I was often in my turn sadly troubled for a reply. Again, though Arnold's life influenced him quite as powerfully as it did me, it was in quite a different i direction, strengthening specially in him the reverence for national life, and for the laws, traditions, and customs with which it is interwoven, and of which it is the ex- pression. Somehow, his natural dislike to change, and pre- VI.] START IN LIFE. 91 ference for the old ways, seemed to gain as mucli strength and nourishment from the teaching and example of our old master, as the desire and hope for radical reforms did in me. As for democracy, not even Arnold's dictum could move him. " The Demos " was for him always, the fatuous old man, with two oboli in his cheek, and a wide ear for the grossest flatteries which Cleon or the Sausage- seller could pour into it. Those of you who have begun Aristophanes will know to what I allude. Now, if he had been a man who had any great reverence for rank or privi-, lege, or who had no sympathies with or care for the poor, or who was not roused to indignation by any act of oppres- sion or tyranny, in the frame of mind I was in I should have cared very little for anything he might have urged. But, knowing as I did that the fact was precisely the reverse — that no man I had ever met was more indiflerent to rank and title, more full of sympathy and kindliness to all below him, or more indignant at anything which savoured of injustice — I was obliged to admit that the truth could not be all on my side, and to question my own new faith £ir more carefully than I should have done otherwise. And so this was the last good deed which he did for me when our ways in life parted for the first time, and I went up to London to read for the Bar, while he remained at Oxford. His plans were not fixed beyond the summer. He had promised to take two or three Oriel men to Scot- 92 MEMOIR OF A BROTRER. [chap. land on a reading party, and accordingly went with them to Oban in July ; and, while there, accepted an offer, which came to him I scarcely know how, to take charge of the sons of the late Mr. Beaumont at Harrow, as their private tutor. I must own I was much annoyed at the time when I heard of this resolution. I could see no reason for it, and many against it. Here was he, probably the most popular man of his day at Oxford, almost sure of a fellowship if he chose to stay up aud read for it, one of the best oars and cricketers in England, a line sportsman, and enjoying all these things thoroughly, and with the command of as much as he chose to take of them, deliberately shelving himself as the tutor of three young boys. I am afraid there was also a grain of snobbishness at the bottom of my dislike to the arrange- ment. Private tutors were looked upon then by young men — I hope it is so no longer — as a sort of upper ser- vants ; and I was weak enough, notwithstanding my newly acquired liberalism, to regard this move of George's as a sort of loss of caste. He was my eldest brother, and I was very fond and proud of him. I was sure he would dis- tinguish himself in any profession he chose to follow, while there was no absolute need of his following any ; and it provoked me to think of his making what I thought a false move, and throwing away some of the best j-ears of his life. However, I knew it was useless to remonstrate, as he had vr.] STAUT IJS! LIFE. 93 made up Ms mind, and so held my tongue, and came to see that he was quite right. It was not till nearly three years later, when his engagement was over and he had entered at Doctors' Commons, that I came to understand and appre- ciate his motives. The first of these you may gather from the following extract from a letter of your grandfather's, dated February 23rd, 1849 : — " George, it seems, is un- usually lively at the idea of going tooth and nail to work with men instead of hoys ; and, now that he has for three years gratified his whim of keeping himself wholly off my hands, consents to he assisted like his brothers." This "whim" of proving to his own satisfaction that he was worth his keep, and could make his own living, is not a very usual one nowadays, when most young Englishmen seem to assume that they have a natural right to mainte- nance at the expense of some one. He had then six other brothers, on whom the example was not altogether thrown airay, though none of us were ever able quite to come up to it. It had the effect, however, of making us thoughtful in the matter of expenditure ; and, consequently, of the four who went to the universities, and two who entered the army, not one got into any money difficulties. But George had other motives for this step besides the " whim" of independence. He wished for leisure to make up his mind whether he should take holy orders, as he had at one time intended to do. And, since leaving Eugby, he had had no time either for the study of modern languages 94 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. or for general reading, and he was anxious to make up his arrears in both of these directions. This engagement would give him the leisure he wanted, while keeping him at regular routine work. His resolve, though taken, at the risk of throwing himself back some years in his future profession, whatever that might be, was thoroughly characteristic of him, and owing, I think, in great measure to your grandfather's own precepts. He was fond of telling lis family stories, and there was none of these of which he was more proud than that of his maternal great- grand- mother. This good lady was the widow of George Watts, Vicar of Uffington, a younger son himself, who died at the age of forty-two, leaving her in very poor circumstances. She sold off everything, and invested the proceeds in stocking a large dairy farm in the village where she had lived as the great lady, there being no resident squire in the parisL If any of you ever care to make a pilgrimage to the place, you will jBnd the farmhouse, which she occupied nearly 200 years ago, close to the fish-pond iQ TJf&ngton. She was well connected, and her friends tried to persuade her not to give up her old habits ; but she steadily refused all visiting, though she was glad to give them a cup of chocolate, or the like, when they chose to call on her. By attending to her business, risin" early and working late, she managed to portion her daughter, ^and give her son a Cambridge education, b}- which he profited, and died Master of the Temple, where VI.] STABT IN LIFE. 95 you may see his monument. He was true to his mother's training, and sacrificed good chances of further preferment, by preaching a sermon at Whitehall before George II. and his mistress, on Court vices, on the text, "And Nathan said unto David, Thou art the mau." Such stories, drunk in by a boy of a quiet, self-contained, thorough nature, were sure to have their effect; and this "whim" of George's was one of their first-fruits in his case. I must add, that there is no family tradition which I would sooner see grow into an article of faith with all of you than this of thriftiness, and independence, as points of honour. So long as you are in statu pupillari, of course you must live at the expense of your friends ; but you may do so either honestly, or dishonestly. A boy, or young man, bom and bred a gentleman, ought to feel that there is an honourable contract between him, and his friends ; their part being to pay his bills, and make him such an allowance as they can afford, and think right, and sufficient; his, to work steadily, and not to get in debt, or cultivate habits and indulge tastes which he cannot afford. You will see through life all sorts of contemptible ostentation and shiftlessness on every side of you. Nurses, if they are allowed, begin with fiddle-faddling about children, tiU they make them utterly helpless, unable to do anything for themselves, and think- ing such helplessness a fine thing. Ladies' maids, grooms, valets, flunkeys, keepers, carry on the training as they get older. Even at public schools I can see this extravagance 96 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. and shiftlessness growing in every direction. There are all sorts of ridiculous expenses, in the shape of costumes and upholstery of one kind or another, which are always increasing. The machinery of games gets eveiy year more elaborate. When I was in the eleven at Eughy, we " kept big-side '' ourselves ; that is to say, we did aU the rolling, -watering, and attending to the ground. We chose and pre- pared our own wickets, and marked out our own creases, for every match. We had no "professional" and no "pavi- lion," but taught ourselves to play; and when a strange eleven was coming to play in the school close, asked the Doctor for one of the schools, in which we sat them down to a plain cold dinner. I don't say that you have not better grounds, and are not more regularly trained cricketers now; but it has cost a great deal in many ways, and the game has been turned into a profe^ion. Now, one set of boys plays just like another ; then, each of the great schools had its own peculiar style, by wiiich you could distinguish it from the rest. And, after you leave school, yoTi will find the same thing in more contemptible forms, at the Universities and in the world. You can't alter society, or hinder people in general from being help- less, and vulgar — from letting themselves fall into slavery to the things about them if they are rich, or from aping the habits and vices of the rich if they are poor. But you may live simple manly lives yourselves, speaking your own thought, paying your own way, and doing your own vi.] START IN LIFE. 97 work, whatever that may be. You will remain gentlemen so long as you follow these rules, if you have to sweep a crossing for your livelihood. You will not remain gentle- men in anything but the name, if you depart from them, though you may be set to govern a kingdom. And when- ever the temptation comes to you to swerve from them, think of the subject of this memoir, of the old lady in the farmhouse by TJffington fish-pond, and the tablet in the Temple Church. Such a resolution as that which, as I have just shown you, was taken by my brother at the end of his residence at Oxford, is always a turning-point in character. If faithfully and thoroughly carried out, it will strengthen the whole man ; lifting, him on to a new plane, as it were, and enabling him, without abruptly breaking away from his old life, to look at its surroundings from a higher standpoint, and so to get a new and a truer perspective. If repented of, or acted out half-heartedly, it is apt to impair a man's usefulness sadly, to confuse his judgment, and soften the fibre of his will- He gets to look back upon his former pxu:suits vsdth an exaggerated fondness, and to let them gradually creep back, till they get a stronger hold on him than ever, so that he never leams to put them in their right place at all. The moral of which to you boys is — think well over your important steps in life, and, having made up your minds, never H 98 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. look behind. George never did. From Oban be •wTites home : " My forthcoming engagement occupies all my thoughts, and indeed a good deal of my time ; for if I intend to succeed, I must be well up in everj-thiug. I shall not, therefore, be able to make many excursions from Oban." Tour grandfather had been a friend of Sir Walter Scott, and had brought us up on his -works ; and had suggested to George that this would be a good opportunity for visiting a number of the spots immor- talized by the Wizard of the NortL This was his answer. In the same spirit I find him writing about the same time as to a new cricket club, which was starting under very favourable auspices in Berkshire, and in which he had been asked to take a leading part : " I shall certainly not join the A. C. Club ; and as for Tom, I should think his joining more improbable stUl. Cricket is over for both of us, except accidentally." In this spirit he took to his new work; and, going into it heartily and thoroughly, found it v&ry pleasant. He occupied Byron House at Harrow, with his pupils, in which his old friend Mr. M Arnold afterwards lived. There were several of his old schoolfellows, and coUege Mends, among the Masters; and I, and others of his old friends, used to run down occasionally, on half- holidays, from London, and play football or cricket with the boys, amongst whom the prestige of his athletic career of course made him a great favourite and hero. VI.] START IN LIFE. 90 Thus he got as much society as he cared for, and found time, in the intervals of his regular -work, for a good deal of general reading. In fact, I never kaew him more cheerful than during these years of what most of us regarded as lost time, and in which we certainly expected he would have been bored, and disappointed. This would not have been so perhaps had he proved unsuccessful; but his pupils got on well in the school, and their father soon found him out, and appreciated him. At the beginning of the first long vacation he writes home : — "Mr. Beaumont, finding I am fond of a gun, has most kindly offered me a week's shooting on his moors. ■I could easily manage it, and meet you in London in ■ time to visit Lady Salusbury. You will not think, I know well, that I like shooting better than home; and if you would like to see me before you go to London, .pray say so, and the moors will not occupy another thought in my head. It is not everyone who would have taken the trouble to find out that I liked shooting, and I feel Mr. Beaumont's kindness ; in fact, he seems as generous as a prince to everyone with whom he has anything to do." But it was in his own family, where he would have wished for it most, that the reward came most amply. He became in these years the trusted adviser of your grandfather on all family matters, and especially with respect to his three youngest brothers. The direction of their education was indeed almost handed over to H 2 iOO MEMOIR OP A BROTHER. [cuAr. him, and nothing could exceed the admiration and de- votion with which they soon learnt to regard him. The eldest of them was sent to Harrow in 1848 to be under his eye, and you may judge of the sort of supervision he exercised hy this specimen of his reports: — "1 think he has been suffering the usual reaction which takes place when a boy goes to a new school. He worked hard at first, and^ then, finding he had a good deal of liberty and opportunity of amusement, grew slack. He is too fond of exercise to be naturally fond of work, as some boys are who are blessed with small animal spirits; and he is not y&i old enough to see clearly the object of education, and the obligation of work. I have no doubt he will very soon find this out ; but, if not, it win very soon be forced on his notice by the unpleasant- ness of being beaten by his contemporaries." Speaking of his letters of advice to the boys, your grandfather writes: — "They have given me at least as much pleasure as them. Ton are doing a very kind thing in the most judicious way, and have assisted the stimulus which they required. Good leaders make a steady-going team, and allow the coachman to turn round on his box. Arthur [the youngest] will in his turn benefit by these fellows, I doubt not. Ton would, I think, be pleased to see how naturally he takes to cricket. In fact, take him altogether, he is a very good specimen of a six-year-old." But perhaps nothiag will show you in a short space what he was to his younger brothers so well as one of vl] STAET in life. 101 their own letters to him, and one of his to your grand- mother. The first is from your uncle Harry, written almost at the end of his first half at Eugby: — "My dear Geoege, " I am very much obliged to you for "WTiting such a capital letter to me the other day, and for all your kind advice, which you may be sure is not entirely thrown away. I remember all the kind advice you gave me last winter, as we were coming from skating at Benham, You warned me from getting into ' tick,' and you said you were sure I should be able to act upon your good advice, and from that moment I determined not to go on tick, without I could possibly help. I haven't owed a penny to anyone this half-year, and I don't mean to owe anybody anything in the money way ; and I have not spent all my money yet, and if I have not got enough to last me till the end of the half-year, I am determined not to tick ; and I heartily thank God that T have elder brothers to guide me and advise me ; I am afraid I should have done badly without them. Tou advised me also in your kind letter to work steadily. I fancy I am placed pretty decently ; the form I am in is the upper remove. I keep low down in my form, princi- pally from not knowing my Kennedy's grammar. I find it very hard to say by heart. I should have been placed higher, I think, if I had known it; and I should advise Arthur to begin it now, if he is coming to Eugby, which I hope he is. He will find it disagreeable now, but he would find it worse if he did not know it when he came here. I think if you would be kind enough to write to him, and show him how necessary it is for him to learn it, he would be only too glad to do it. I think the great fault in me is. not so much forgetfulness, but a not having a determi- nation to do a thing at the moment. I put it off. But I 102 MEMOIR OP A BROTHER. [chap. have, I am sorry to say, innumerable other faults. Mamma sent me a book of prayers, which I read whenever I have got time, and I say my prayers every night and morning, and I pray for all of you. I have now mentioned, I think, everything that you seemed anxious about ia your letter." The next letter is dated two years later, when the question what profession the writer of the last was to follow, had become important: — " Deasest Mother, " I will answer your questions as well as I am able. Harry will not lower himself by farming. It might have been so ten years ago, but the world is getting less absurd, and, besides, I think more gentlemen are now taking it up as a profession (Mr. Huxtable, for instance, and many others), and are most highly respected. But to succeed in farming in England now, one must be a remarkable man : one must thoroughly understand aU practical details, and be able to work oneself better than a labourer; besides this, the farmer must be a tolerable chemist and geologist, must understand bookkeeping and accounts, and must be enterprising and yet cautious ; as patient as Job, and as active minded (and bodied) as anyone you can think of. Now Harry, although amiable, is rather indolent,- and unless he can entirely get rid of this, he will ruin himself in a year by farming in England. In Ireland or the colonies it might be different. For the same reasons I would not recommend the Bar for Harry. It is very laborious, the confinement great, and it requires a hard head : moreover, the education is quite as expensive as an Oxford one, if that is any consideration. However, if you t hink that Harry can acquire (not an ordinary, but) an extraordinary VI.] START IN LIFE. 103 amount of diligence, let him come to the Bar or farm. I confess I should discourage both ideas. If you can get a cadetship for him, I would certainly accept it. The two dangers of Indian military life are exti-avagance and dissi- pation, and I don't think Harry inclined to either. He has not been extravagant at Eugby, and the temptations of a public school are as great as they are anywhere ; and I think he is well-principled and kind-hearted, which will save him from the other danger. The army is getting much better, and officers begin to find out that they may do immense good in their profession by looking after the condition of their men. If you should obtain a cadetship, it will not be difficult to make Harry understand that he will have other duties besides drill, and I believe he would perform them. I am sure he would be exceedingly popular with officers and men. If he had been bad-tempered, or disobedient, or ill-conditioned, I should have recommended the na^'y, as by far the best school for such a character ; but as he does n'ot want such discipline, as we have no interest, as it is a poor profession in a worldly point of view, and as he is (I fancy) rather too old, I think it is out of the ques- tion. I confess I should hesitate much between orders and the army. If I saw any likelihood of Hariy's doing any- thing at Oxford, I should like to see him a clergyman. I am siu-e he would be a conscientious one, and therefore happy. But I don't think he would do anything (though of course he would pass), and there are the same tempta- tions there as in the army. On the whole, I would try immediately to procure a cadetship ; if you cannot get one, I would try to induce Harry to take orders. I said some- thing about Ireland and the colonies in connection with farming. On second thoughts, I don't think Harry would be a suitable person. Amiable tempers al\va}'s require (at first) some one to look up to and lean upon; they are 104 MEMOIR OP A BROTHER. [chap. longer in learning to stand alone. Ifow, no one is so much isolated as a colonist. He is thrown entirely on his own resources, and has no one to give him advice and sympathy. In the army, and indeed in orders, one is generally trained to bear responsihility. So I am for the cadetship. He wQl be at once provided for, and will return to England in the prime of life with a competence. This is always supposing that he will escape the dangers of the profession (as I think), ami that you and he do not think the advantages counterbalanced by the separation. I have no doubt that when communication with India is easier (and it wUl soon be incredibly easier), officers will come home at shorter intervals." Meantime he was studying the same question carefully in his own case, with a view to determining whether he should take orders when his work at Harrow was over. His father and mother, though on the whole wishing that he should do so, were perfectly content to let him think the matter out, and settle it his own way. They seem, however, to have supplied him with specimens of contem- porary pulpit literature, upon some of which he comments in his correspondence, not, on the whole, with any enthu- siasm. " Surely," he sums up some criticism on a popular preacher of that day, " there is a pulpit eloquence equally remote from fine writing and familiarity, such as was Dr. Arnold's. I am doubtful as to reading these books, for I know that I ought not to think of the style, and yet T cannot help it. It takes me down against my wilL" Your grandfather replied : " The Church ought certainly VI.] START m LIFE. 105 to be a labour of love, and followed with zeal. If on a final review of your sentiments, aided perhaps by the ad- vice of some clergyman you look up to (why not Vaughan ?) you do not think you could engraft this zeal on sound con- victions, and an upright character, you are quite right in deciding for the Bar. In after life you will not be wholly dependent on a profession, and many of our best men have started as late." In the end he made up his mind against taking orders, but not on any of the grounds which deter so many young men of ability now. " My only objection," he writes to his mother, " to taking orders is, that it might not suit me. Once ordained, it is impossible to change your profession ; and unless a man has his whole soul in this profession, he is useless, or worse." And so, at the end of his three years at Harrow, he resolved to go to the Bar, and choosing that branch of it for which his previous reading had best qualified him, took his degree of Doctor of Civil Law, and entered at Doctors' Commons. You wiU have recognized by this time how carefully your grandfather watched the development of character in his sons, and that he was by no means inclined to over- look their faults, or to over-estimate their good qualities. The longer I live myself, the more highly I am inclined to rate his judgment of men and things, and tliis is the con- clusion he had formed at this time of his eldest son's 106 MEMOIR OP A BROTHER. [chap. character. It occurs in a letter to a relative then living, and dated 25th January, 1849 : — " I am glad you have had an opportunity (difficult to get from his reserved character) of seeing what is in George when put to the proof There are many men of his age with more active benevolence and habits of more general utUity, as well as perhaps warmer spiritual feeling, also more useful acquired knowledge. His great forte rather lies in those (lualities which give men the ascendency in more troubled times — perfect consistency of word and purpose, great moral and physical courage, and a scru- pulous sense of what is due to oneself and others in the relations of social life, combined with the caution a man should possess, who never intends to retract an opinion or a profession. Much perhaps of the chevalier sans taclie who used to be the fashion in the rough times before steam and 'ologies came in. In my time these sort of people wee always more popular among Oxford youngsters (who are very acute in reading character) than mere wits, scholars, or dashing men. I suppose it is so stUl, and thereby account for the estimation which it seems he had in OrieL And I apprehend this sort of established cha- racter must help a man in a profession where he means to work, and I will answer for his doing so." But there is one feature in George's character which this estimate of it does not bring out. I mean his great unselfishness. As an illiisbration of this, I wiU show you how he treated a proposal made on account of your grandfather while he was at Harrow. We had had the first loss in our circle. Your uncle Walter, whom none of you remember, a young officer in the VI.] STAST IN LIFE. 107 Artillery, had died of an attack of yellow fever in British Guiana. This had shaken your grandfather a good deal, and his health was no longer strong enough to allow him to follow, and enjoy, his country pursuits. Besides, the house at Donnington was too big for the shrunken family which now gathered there, and those of us who had flitted were settled, or likely to settle, in London. So it was thought that it would be weU for your grandfather, and all of us, if he were to follow, and move up to the neighbourhood of town. In any case George's opinion would have been the first taken on such a step, but in this it was necessary that he should consent, as Donnington was settled on him. He was very much attached to the place in which we had all grown up ; and local, and county, and family associations had a peculiarly strong hold on him. But all these were set aside without a second thought. AU he was anxious about was, that so serious a change should be well considered. " I think," he writes to his mother, '■' you should be cautious about changing. In the first place, it wiU cause you personally an immense amount of annoyance, which you ought never to incur, especially now. Then you will miss your garden, and your village occupations, and your neighbours. My last letter might have led you to suppose that I myself preferred Hampstead to Donnington, but that is not the case. I should consider it desirable under certain circumstances. If you and my father, and Jeanie and the 108 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [ch. vi. rest, think these circumstances exist, I sincerely hope you will change, and lose no time about it. But do not do a thing which will cause you a great deal of trouble and annoyance without the clearest grounds. Above all, believe, and this I say with the most perfect truth, that I shall be equally happy whichever you do.'' CHAPTER VII. 1849-50 :— ^JV^ EPISODE. At the time when my brother's Harrow engagement came to an end, I had just settled in a London house, and, to my great delight, he proposed to come and live with us, and occupy our spare room in Upper Berkeley Street. Besides aH my other reasons for rejoicing at this arrangement, which you may easily imagine for yourselves when you have read thus far, there was a special one just at this time, which I must now explain. The years 1848-9 had heen years of revolution, and, as always happens at such times, the minds of men had been greatly stirred on many questions, and specially on the problem of the social condition of the great mass of the poor in all European countries. In Paris, the revolution had been the signal for a great effort on the part of the workmen ; and some remarkable experiments had been made, both by the Provisional Government of 1848, and by certain employers of labour, and bodies of skilled mechanics, with a view to place the conditions of labour upon a more 110 MEMOIR OF A BROTHEB. [chap. equitable aad satisfactory footing ; or, to use the common phrase of the day, to reconcile the interests of capital and lahoTir. The Government experiment of " national work- shops " had failed disastrously, hut a number of the private associations were brilliantly successful The history of some of these associations — of the sacrifices wliich had been joyfully made by the associates in order to collect the small funds necessary to start them — of the ability and industry with which they were conducted, and of their marvellous effect on the habits of all those engaged in the work — ^had deeply interested many persons in England. It was resolved to try an experiment of the same kind here, but the conditions were very different. The seed there had already taken root amongst the industrial classes, and the movement had come from them. Here the workpeople, as a rule, had no belief in association ex- cept for defensive purposes. It was chiefly amongst young professional men that the idea was working, and it was necessary to preach it to those whom it most concerned. Accordingly a society was formed, chiefly of young bar- risters, under the presidency of the late Mr. Maurice, who was then Chaplain of Lincoln's Inn, for the purpose of establishing associations similar to those in Paris. It was called the Society for Promoting Workmg Men's Associa- tions, and I happened to be one of the original members,- and on the Council. We were all full of enthusiasm and hope in our work, and of propagandist zeal: anxious to VII.] 1849-50:— AN Jil'ISODE. Ill bring in all the recruits we could. I cannot even now think of my own state of mind at the time without wonder and amusement. I certainly thought (and for that matter have never altered my opinion to this day) that here we had found the solution of the great lahour question ; hut I was also convinced that we had nothing to do hut just to announce it, and found an association or two, in order to convert all England, and usher in the millennium at once, so plaia did the whole thing seem to me. I will not undertake to answer for the rest of the Council, hut I doubt whether I was at aU more sanguine than the majority. Consequently we went at it with a wUl : held meetings at six o'clock in the morning (so as not to inter- fere with our regular work) for settling the rules of our central society, and its offshoots, and late in the evening, for gatheriQg tailors, shoemakers, and other handicrafts- men, whom we might set to work ; started a small publisliing office, presided over by a diminutive one-eyed costermonger, a rough and ready speaker and poet (who had been in prison as a Chartist leader), from which we issued tracts and pamphlets, and ultimately a small news- paper ; and, as the essential condition of any satisfactory progress, commenced a vigorous agitation for such an amendment in the law as would enable our infant Asso- ciations to carry on their business in safety, and with- out hindrance. We very soon had our hands full Our denunciations of unlimited competition brought on us U2 MEMOIR OF A BROTHEli. [chap. attacks in newspapers and magazines, wluch we answered, nothing loth. Our opponents called us Utopians and Socialists, and we retorted that at any rate we were Christians; that our trade principles were on all-fours ■with Christianity, while theirs were utterly opposed to it. So we got, or adopted, the name of Christian Socialists, and gave it to our tracts, and our paper. We were ready to fight our battle wherever we found an opening, and got support from the most unexpected quarters. I remember myself being asked by Mr. Senior, an old friend of your grandfather, to meet Archbishop Whately, and several eminent political economists, and explain "what we were about. After a couple of hours of hard discussion, in which I have no doubt I talked much nonsense, I retired, beaten, but CLuite unconvinced. Next A&y, the late Lord Ashburton, who had been present, came to my chambers and gave me a cheque for £50 to help our experiment; and a few days later I found another nobleman, sitting on the counter of oxct shoemakers' association, arguing with the manager, and giving an order for boots. It was just in the midst of all this that my brother came to live with us. I had already converted him, as I thought. He was a subscribing member of our Society, and dealt with our Associations ; and I had no doubt would now join the Council, and work actively in the new crusade. I knew how sound his judgment was, and that he never went back from a resolution once taken, vu.] lUd-50 -.—AN EPISODE. 113 and therefore was all the more eager to make sure of liim, and, as a step in this direction, had already placed his name on committees, and promised his attendance. But I was doomed to disappointment. He attended one or two of our meetings, but I could not induce him to take any active part with us. At a distance of twenty- two years it is of course difficult to recall very accurately what passed between us, hut I can remember his reasons well enough to give the substance of them. And firsts as he had formerly objected to the violent language of the leaders of the Anti-Corn-Law agitation, so he now objected to what he looked upon as our extravagance. " You don't want to divide other people's property ? " -•■ 'f 'No." " Then why call yourselves Socialists ? " "But we couldn't help ourselves : other people called us so first." "Yes; but you needn't have accepted the name. Why acknowledge that the cap fitted? " "Well, it would have been cowardly to back out. We borrow the ideas of these Frenchmen, of association as opposed to competition as the true law of industry; and of organizing labour — of securing the labourer's position by organizing production and consumption — and it would be cowardly to shirk the name. It is only fools who know nothing about the matter, or people interested in the competitive system of trade, who believe, or say, that a desire to divide other people's property is of the essence of SociaUsm." " That may be very true : but nine-tenths of mankind, or, I 114 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. at any rate, of Englislimen, come under one or the other of those categories. If you are called Socialists, you will never persuade the British public that this is not your object. There was no need to take the name. You have weight enough to carry already, without putting that on your shoulders." This was his first objection, and he proved to be right. At any rate, aft«r some time we dropped the name, and turned the " Christian Socialist " into the " Journal of Association." And English Socialists generally have instinctively avoided it ever since, and called themselves ' co-operators," thereby escaping much abuse in the intervening years. And, when I look back, I confess I do not wonder that we repelled rather than attracted many men who, like my brother, were inclined theoretically to agree with us. Eor I am bound to admit that a strong vein of fanaticism and eccentricity ran through our ranks, which the marvellous patience, gentle- ness, and wisdom of our beloved president were not enough to counteract, or control. Several of our most active and devoted members were also strong vegetarians, and pho- netists. In a generation when beards and wide-awakes were looked upon as insults to decent society, some of us wore both, with a most heroic indifference to pubUc opinion. In the same waj^ there was often a trenchant, and almost truculent, tone about us, which was well calculated to keep men of my brother's temperament at a distance. I rather enjoyed it myself, but learnt its VII.] 1849-50 -.—AN EPISODE. 115 trnwisdom when I saw its effect on liim, and others, who were inclined to join us, and would have proved towers of strength. It was right and necessary to denounce the evUs of unlimited competition, and the falsehood of the economic doctrine of " every man for himself;" but quite unnecessary, and therefore unwise, to speak of the whole system of trade as " the disgusting vice of shop-keeping,'' as was the habit of several of our foremost and ablest members. But what really hindered my brother from taking an active share in our work was not these eccentricities, which soon wore off, and were, at the worst, superficiaL "When he came to look the work fairly ia the face, he found that he could not heartily sympathise with it ; and the quality of thoroughness in him, which your grandfather notices, would not let him join half-heartedly. His conclusion was reached somehow in this way : " It comes to this, then. What you are all aiming at is, the complete overthrow of the present trade system, and the substitution of what, you say, will prove a more honest and righteous one. It is not simply a question of setting up, and getting a legal status for, these half-dozen associations of tailors and shoemakers, and these grocery stores. If the principle is good for any- thing, it must spread everj'where, and into every industrial process. It can't live peaceably side by side with the present system. They are absolutely antagonistic, and the one must cast out the other. Isn't that so ?" I, of course, I 2 116 MEMOIR OF A BROTSER. [chap. could not deny the conclusion. " "Well, then," his argu- ment -went on, " I don't see my way clearly enough to go on. Your principle I can't object to. It certainly seems truer, and stronger, and more in accord -with Christianity, than the other. But, after all, the business of the world has always gone on upon the other, and the world has had plenty of time to get to understand its own business. You may say the results are not satisfactory, are proofs that the world has done nothing but blunder. It may be' so : but, after all, experience must count for something, and the practical wear and tear of centuries. Self-interest may be a low motive, but the system founded upon it has managed somehow, with all its faults, to produce a very tolerable kind of world. When yours comes to be tried practically, just as great abuses may bo found inseparable from it. You may only get back the old evils under new forms. The long and short of it is, I hate upsetting things, which seems to be your main object. You say that you like to see people discontented with society as it is, and are ready to help to make them so, because it is full of injustice, and abuses of all kinds, and will never be better tiU men are thoroughly discontented. I don't see these evils so strongly as you do ; don't believe in heroic remedies ; and would sooner see people contented, and malcing the best of society as they find it. In fact, I was born and bred a Tory, and can't help it." I remember it all very vividly, because it was a great TU.] 1849-50 -.—AN EPISODE. 117 grief to me at the time, chiefly because I was very anxious to have him with us ; but, partly, because I had made so sure of getting him that I had boasted of it to our Council, which included several of our old school and college friends. They were delighted, knowing what a valuable recruit he would prove, and now I had to make the humiliating confession, that I had reckoned without my host. He continued to pay his subscription, and to get his clothes at our tailors' association till it failed, which was more than some of our number did, for the cut was so bad as to put the sternest principles to a severe test. But I could see that this was done out of kindness to me, and not from sympathy with what we were doing. But my disappointment had at least this good result, that it opened my eyes thoroughly, and made me tolerant of opposition to my own most earnest, and deepest, con- victions. I have been what I suppose would be called an advanced Liberal ever since I was at Oxford, but have never been able to hate or despise the old-fashioned Tory creed ; for it was the creed of almost the kindest, and bravest, and ablest man I have ever known intimately — my own brother. I must, however, add here, that he always watched with creat interest the social revolution in which he could not D take an active part. In 1851, the Industrial and Provident Societies' Act, under which the co-operative societies of different kinds first obtained legal recognition, was passed, chiefly owing to the exertions of Mr. Ludlow and other 118 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. members of our old Council. There are now more than al,000 societies registered under that Act in England alone, doing a yearly business of ten millions, and owning pro- perty of the amount of £2,500,000 and upwards ; and as he saw the principle spreading, and working practically, and, wherever it took root, educating the people in self- control, and thrift, and independence, he was far too good an Englishman not to rejoice at, and sympathise with, the result, though I doubt whether he ever quite got over the . feeling of distrust and anxiety with which he regarded even a peaceful, and apparently beneficent, revolution. You all know how much I wish that you should take a thorough and intelligent interest, and, in due time, an active part, in public affairs. I don't mean that you should adopt politics as a profession, because, as matters stand in this country, poor men, as most of you will be, are not able, as a rule, to do this and retain their inde- pendence. But I want you to try to understand politics, and to study important questions as they arise, so that you may be always ready to support, with all the influence you may happen to have, the measures and policy which you have satisfied yourselves will be best for your country. Of course I should like to see you all of my own way of thinking ; but this is not at all likely to happen, and I care comparatively little whether you turn out Liberals or Tories, so that you take your sides conscientiously, and hold to them through good and evil report ; always remem- VII.] 1849-50:— AN EPISODE. 119 bering, at the same time, that those who are most useful and powerful iu supporting a cause, are those who know best what can be said against it ; and that your opponents are just as likely to be upright and honest men as yourselves, or those with whom you agree. My brother's example taught me this, and I hope it may do as much for you. There is a little poem of Lowell's, which brings out so well the contrast between the two forces constantly at work in human affairs, and illustrates so beautiftdly the tempers which should underlie all action in them, that I am sure you will thank me for quoting it here. It is called "Above and Below :" — ABOVE. O dwellers in tlie valley land, Who in deep twilight grope and cower. Till the slow mountain's dial-hand Shortens to noon's triumphant hour — While ye sit idle, do ye think The Lord's great work sits idle too. That light dare not o'erleap the brink Of morn, because 'tis dark with you ? Though yet your valleys skulk in nighty In God's ripe fields the day is cried, And reapers, with their sickles bright. Troop, singing, down the mountain-side: Come up, and feel what health there is In the frank Dawn's delighted eyes. As, bending with a pitying kiss. The night-shed tears of earth she dries. 120 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [ch. vii. The Lord wants reapers : oh, mount np, Before Night comes, and cries "Too late!" Stay not for taking scrip or cnp. The Master hungers while ye wait ; 'Tis from these heights alone your eyes The advancing spears of day may see. Which o'er the eastern hill-tops rise To break your long captivity. BELOW. II. Lone watcher on the mountain height ! It is right precious to behold The first long surf of climbing light Flood all the thirsty east with gold : But we, who in the twilight sit, Know also that the day is nigh. Seeing thy shining forehead lit With his inspiring prophecy. Thou hast thine office : we have ours : God lacks not early service here. But what are thine eleventh hours He counts with us as morning cheer ; Our day for Him is long enough. And when He giveth wort to do. The bruis&d reed is amply tough To pierce the shield of error through. But not the less do thou aspire Light's earlier messages to teach, Keep back no syllable of fire — Plunge deep the rowels of thy speech. Yet God deems not thine aeried flight More worthy than our twilight Him — For brave obedience, too, is Light, And following that is finding Him. CHAPTEE VIII. ITALY. The pleasure of having my brother as an inmate was scarcely dimmed by this disappointment, and he remained with us until the autumn of 1850, a white nine months in my life Tour grandfather wrote of him a year later, when he had engaged himself to be married : " I cannot exactly fancy George a married man, seeing that to the latest period his ways in this house have been precisely the same as when he was a Eugby boy — as few wants, and as little assumption, though I have exhorted him to swagger and order a little." And, as it was at Donnmgton, so it had been in our diminutive town-house; indeed, I doubt whether any one of you, or any public school boy, would give so little trouble. He read hard, starting with me every morning directly after breakfast ; went into no society, except that of a few old friends, and allured me away occasionally on summer afternoons, from law, and the reform of trade, to a game of cricket with the Hamp- stead club, of which he had become a member, or in the 122 MEMOIR OF A BROTEEB. [chap. Harrow playing-fields, where he was always more than welcome. After the long vacation of 1850 he had intended to begin practice in Doctors' Commons, hut was delayed by an accident. He was struck in the eye by a spent shot, in cover shooting, and, though the accident proved not to be a serious one, he was ordered to rest his eyes en- tirely, and accordingly settled to spend the winter in Italy. The vexation of such a check at the opening of his professional career, was almost compensated, I think, by the delight which this tour gave him. He had never been abroad at this time, except for a few days in Trance, and his education and natural tastes peculiarly fitted him for enjoying Italy thoroughly, for he was pas- sionately fond of art, as weU as a fine classical scholar, having never dropped his Latin and Greek, as most or Tis are so apt to do the moment we have taken our degrees. He lingered a little in France, on his way south, chiefly to accustom his ear and tongue to the language, and he writes : — " Mabseilles, December 6th, 1850. " I have not made much progress in French ; everyone speaks English except the ouvriers. I address a waiter in a splendid sentence, which I expect wUl strike him with awe, and impress him with my knowledge of the French language, and he takes me down by answering in English ; as much as to say, ' For goodness' sake speak your own VIII.] ITALY. 123 language, and I sliali understand you better.' In such a state of things, one can only listen to the conversation of Frenchmen with one another, and try to imitate their accent. In spite of beard and mustachios, it is Vbild les Anglais wherever we go. The only person who passes for a Frenchman is one of our American fellow-travellers, who has grown a most venerable beard; but, as he pronounces French just as if it were English, and calls Dijon ' Dee John' he is afraid to open his mouth for fear of being convicted as an impostor immediately. I think an Englishman's walk betrays him; I think there is an unconscious swagger about it, which savours strongly of 'ros-bif,' and which the French detect in a moment. However, they are most polite and obliging, and I think they would be glad to do you any service." In Italy, he went from city to city, revelling in picture galleries and studios, as his eyes regained strength ; taking lessons in Italian, visiting spots of historical interest, and sympathising with, and appreciating, the Italians, while wondering at their patience under the yoke of their Govern- ments. It was the same winter which Mr. Gladstone spent in Italy, and signalized by his pamphlet on the political prisoners at Naples. Fortunately for my brother, he found Mr. Senior and his family at ISTaples, and again at Eome, and through their kindness, and that of Lady Malcolm, saw as much of Italian society as he cared for. A few selections from his letters wiU show you how he spent his time, and the impressions which his Italian travel left on his mind : — 124 MEMOIR OF A BEOTHER. [chap. "iJ^APLES, January 7, 1851. " There is a party of street-singers, and a Punch, outside under my window, who distract me horribly. They have an eternal tune here, which every ragged boy sings ; it is called, I believe, ' lo ti voglio,' and is rather pretty, but you may have too much of a good thing. The beggars are most amusing, and certainly work very hard in their vocation. There is an old woman who lies on the ground in a fit all day long ; another elderly female stands by her in a despairing attitude, to draw attention to her protracted sufferings, and receive the contributions of the credulously benevolent. But the old lady is nothing to a boy, who lies on the ground and bellows like a bull positively for three or four hours together ; I quite admire the energy with which he follows his profession. From the number of crippled and deformed persons one sees, I am inclined to believe that the Neapolitans purposely mutilate themselves in order to succeed better in their favourite calling. They win do anj-^thing sooner than work usefully. Punch and the smgers have gone, and I am at peace. All that I see of continental countries makes me more glad that I am an Englishman. jSTone of them seem secure. The poor Pope is kept at Eome by the French ; and here they say the King is very unpopular, except with the lowest class. This consciousness of insecurity makes them very suspicious and harsh. Two or three days ago an Italian, the legal adviser to our Embassy, was popped into prison on suspicion of correspondence with Mazzini. Fancy Queen Victoria putting an Englishman into Newgate on her own authority for receiving a letter from a Chartist. I suppose they are obliged to be harsh to prevent revolutions ; thank Heaven, England is free and loyaL" " JfAPLE.s, January 13, 1851. " I have discovered a cousin on board the Enclish war steamer ; he is one of the midshipmen, and on Thursday I VIII.] ITALY. 125 took a Isoat to pay him a visit. I was obliged to obtain permission from the police to go on board. There are a quantity of miserable refugees lying concealed in Xaples, watching their opportunity to get on board the English ship, where they are safe under the protection of our flag. Four are on board already, but there are two police-boats constantly on the look-out near our ship, to prevent more from coming. Is it not a miserable state of things ?" "EOME, Jamiary 1851. "My deaeest SIothee, ". . . . Tell my father that I have been very extravagant. I have bought a copy in marble of the Psyche in the Museum at N^aples ; a very clever artist is executing it for me, and it will be finished about the middle of AprO. Mr. Senior is also having a copy taken. I do not know if my father knows the statue. It is attributed to Praxiteles. Nothing has pleased me so much, except perhaps the Dying Gladiator ; and as it is very simple, the cost of the copy is comparatively trifling. It wUl look very well against the dark oak of your drawing-room at Donniagton, and I hope you will approve of my taste." "EoME, JaimaryW, 1851. " We saw two things yesterday which will interest you: the catacombs in which the early Christian martyrs were buried, and in which the Christians met during the perse- cutions to worship God. They are immense subterranean passages, extending, they say, twenty miles ; but you can only see a part, as they are closed, for fear of affording shelter to thieves. The other thing was, a little church about two miles from Eome, on the Appian Eoad, to which a beautiful legend is attached. It is said that St. Peter, during the - persecution in which he suffered martyrdom, lost heart, and fled from Eome by the Appian Eoad ; he had arrived at 126 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. \pB.A.-e. the spot where the church now stands, when our Lord appeared to him,_ going towards Eome. The Apostle ex- claimed in astonishment, ' Lord, wliither goest thou V The answer was, ' I go to Eome to he crucified again.' Where- upon Peter turned back, and re-entered the city, and suffered the death which had been predicted for him. There is no reason why this should not be true, but, true or not, it is a beautiful story, and I was much interested by it. They show a stone with the impression of our Lord's feet upon it, which is kept as a relic." "February 10, 1851. — I think that my Italian pro- gresses favourably. My master tells me that I pronounce ' it better than any other of his pupUs; and as he is very strict, and finds fault with everything else, I suppose I must believe that he speaks the truth." " February 18, 1851. — ^You will be glad to hear that I have returned to Eome from my walking tour without having been robbed, or murdered; but, indeed, I must repeat, that the good gentleman your informant must have been dreaming. We received nothing' but kindness and civility, and I believe that you might walk along the same mountain paths with equal safety. As for us, we looked much too rough a lot to tempt robbers, being rather like banditti ourselves. One of my companions wore a veilerable beard, and I am afraid we both looked picturesque ruffians. Our other companion looked tame, and carried an umbrella. We used to take a cup of cofifee and a roll soon after sunrise, then walk to some romantic village about ten miles off, and there breakfast. Our breakfast consisted of an omelette, ?kfrittato.- as they call it here, which we cooked ourselves. We used to rush into an ostcria di cucina in a state of ravenous hunger. , my friend with the beard, who is a veiy good cook, seizes the frying-pan, I beat up the eggs, and S is degraded into scullion, to V1U.J ITALY. 127 cut xxp some ham and an onion ! ! I believe the people think us macL They could not conceive why we liked to cook our own breakfast, and walk when we might have ridden. After breakfast, it was so hot that we used to select a convenient spot on the hill-side, and lie down for an hour, and then continue our walk tiU about sunset, when we reached our resting-place for the night. In this way we saw some of the most beautiful country you can unagine. Every little exertion we made in climbing a rock was amply rewarded by something most strange and picturesque. The towns are particularly striking, some of them being built on the very top of mountains nearly 3,000 feet liigh, anc* reached with difficulty, by a narrow winding path. I am convinced that a walking tour is the only plan of really seeing Italian scenery. I made some sketches, but am sorry to say that, coming into Eome on Saturday night, my pocket was picked of my sketch-book (a very useless prize to anyone but the owner, and perhaps you), so I lost them aU. I am excessively vexed, for I wanted to show you the sort of places where we took our mid-day's rest. TivoHwas our last stage, and perhaps the most interesting, — there is such a splendid waterfall there. Even if I do not see Turin, I shall be quite satisfied with my recollections of it." After this he hastened home, meeting with no more serious adventure than the one recorded in a letter to the same correspondent, as follows : — "I travelled from Chambery to Lyons all alone in a couple with an Italian lady ! Horrid situation ! and what made it worse was, that the poor thing was very tired this morning, and fell fast asleep, and whilst in a state of oblivion, dropped her head comfortably on to my arm. 128 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. After revolving in my miud this alarming state of things, I thought it would be best to feign to he asleep myself ; and accordingly, when we jolted over a gutter, and she awoke with a start, she found me with my eyes shut, and snoring. I hope I acted it well, but could hardly help laughing. I shortly afterwards rubbed my eyes and awoke, and she gave me a roll and some chocolate, for which I was very thankful ; so I suppose she approved of my conduct." He returned entirely restored to health, and so good an Italian scholar, that he was able to "write fluently in the language, and to dedicate the little objects of art, which he brought home as presents, in appropriate verse. One of these was an inkstand in the shape of an owl, now very common, which he presented to Lady Salusbury, a kinswoman of your grandfather, to whose adopted daughter he had lately engaged himself, with this in- scription : — " ' La stolidezza copresi talvolta di sembiante Savio ; siccome per dar ricovero all' inchi ostro Si fodera con piombo la civelta di bronzo Immago dell' uccello di sapienza.' " Ecco la finta pompa dell' uccello ! II quale, sotto '1 grave e savio viso Avendo puv di piombo il cervello Pra i tntti poi commuove il forte riso — " Cosi si trova dal sembiante bello Talvolta lo bel spirito diviso, Si trova con la roba da Dottore Di piombo pur la testa, ed aneli' il cuore." viii.] ITALY. 129 To the young lady herself he wrote on his return: "I have continued writing a journal, and you will be astonished to hear that your name is not once mentioned in it. It is, however, written in invisible ink across every page. It may be absurd, but I consider my feelings towards you so sacred, that I should not like to parade them even to my nearest relations." CHAPTER IX. MIDDLE LIFE. On his return from his Italian tour my brother at once commenced practice in the Ecclesiastical Courts, and took a small house in Bell Yard, Doctors' Commons, where he went to reside, and which he describes to his mother as follows : — " April 1851.— I am in excellent health and spirits. T have a funny little house here : there are three floors and two rooms on each : then there is a ground-floor, the front room of which I use as an office, and the back room as a bath room, for I stick diligently to the cold-water system. A kitchen below completes my establishment. I have a housekeeper, who sits downstairs in the kitchen and sleeps in the top story; she is miraculously clean and' tidy^ and cooks very well, although I never dine at home. She is also a wonderful gossip." Here he practised for a few yeai"s regularly, and with very fair success, but his professional career was destined to be short and broken, and need not detain us. It is his home life with which we are concerned, and it was the en. IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 131 pressure of what he looked upon as a higher home duty which decided him, after a struggle, to abandon his profes- sion. He was married in the autumn of 1852, and, in the course of a few years, the health of his wife's mother by adoption made it desirable that they should be always with her, and that she should spend the winter months abroad. When it became clear that this was necessary, he accepted it, and made the best of it ; though I find abundant traces in his correspondence of the effort which it required to do so. Thus he writes from Pau, the place fixed upon for their foreiga winter residence, "I always found that changing one's residence and plans gave one a fit of the blues for a time, sometimes longer, sometimes shorter." And again ; " The business of life is to be bored in all directions. You must not imagine, however, that I am ill, or out of spirits. I have no right to be either, and won't be, please God." But the necessary want of regular employment, the sinking into what is called " an idle man," and abandoning aU active part in " the struggle for exist- ence," was no small trial to one who held that the " full employment of all powers, physical, mental, and spiritual, is the true secret of happiness, so that no time may be left for morbid self-analysis." You are all perhaps too young to understand this, and probably, when you think about such matters at all, imagine that the happiest life must be one in which you would only have to amuse yourselves. It may, I hope, shake any such belief to find that the K 2 132 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [cHAr. period ia my brother's life in which he was thus thrown on his ovra resources, and had the most complete liberty to follow his own fancies, was just that in which you may find traces of ennui, and a tendency to be dissatisfied with the daily task of getting through time. He took the best course of getting rid of the blues, how- ever, by throwing himself heartily into such occupations as were to be had at Pau. The chief of these was a Pen and Pencil Club, to which most of the English and American residents belonged, and of which he became the secretary. Besides the ordinary meetings, for which he wrote a number of vers de socUU, on the current topics and doings of the place, the Club indulged in private theatricals. On these occasions he was stage manager, and frequently author; most of the charades and short pieces, which you have seen, and acted in, at OfiBey, were originally written by him for the Pen and Pencil Club at Pan. '• It was a mild literary society," an old friend writes to me, " which he carried almost entirely on his own shoulders, and made a success." Then he set to work for the first time to cultivate in earnest his talent for music, and took to playing the violoncello, communicating intelligence of his own progress, and of musical doings at Pau generally, to his sister, whom he looked upon as his guide and instructress. These were not always devoid of incident- as for instance the following : — £X.] MIDDLE LIFE. 133 "PATJ, VllLA Salusbuey. " "We have an opera here this season. The prima, donna and the tenor are good ; the rest so-so. The orchestra and chorus bad ; the basso execrable : when he doesn't bellow like a bull, he neighs like a horse ; however, he does his best. I don't know how you feel, but to me a mediocre opera is an unmitigated bore. I woidd rather by half hear a good French play. There was a scene at the opera the other night. The conductor of the orchestra is the amant of the contralto. Just before the opera began, the conductor in a jealous fit tried to strangle the contralto : whereupon the basso profuudo knocked the conductor down : where- upon the conductor ran off towards the river to drown himself: whereupon he was knocked down again to save his life : whereupon he threatened to cut everybody's throat : whereupon he was locked up ia prison, and there remains. So there is no conductor, and the contralto can't sing from the throttling." The violoncello soon grew to be a resource, and I believe he played really well, though he used to groan to me as to the impossibility of adapting adult fingers to the work, and to mourn over the barbarism of our school days, when no one ever thought of music as a possible study for boys. Soon, however, other objects of deeper interest began to gather round him. His eldest boy was bom in 1853, his second in 1855, during their summer in England. "The young one," he writes to his sister, "is like his mamma, they say, and is going to be dark, which will be a good contrast to Herbert, who is a regular Saxon. I want his (Herbert's) yellow hair to grow long that it may be 131 MEMOIU OF A BBOTHEE. [chap. done iato a pigtail; I think it would look quaint and create a sensation among the Cockneys, but I'm afraid 1 shan't get my own way. To return to the new arrival, you will be happy to hear that he inherits your talent for music ; he is always meandering with his hands as if he was play- ing the violoncello ; it is a positive fact, I assure you, and makes me laugh to bursting point. A must have been more struck with my performances than I had credited. I feel quite flattered to possess an infant phenomenon who played (or would have played) the violoncello, if we had let him, from his birth. In the meantime that instrument has been somewhat neglected by me. A , the baby, and the partridges (what a conjunction), divide my allegiance. However, my music mania is as strong as ever, in spite of the rather excruciating tones which all beginners draw from the instrument : they tell me that the sounds resemble the bellowings of a bereaved cow ; luckily the house is a large one." He took to farming also, as another outlet for superfluous energy, but without much greater success than genei"ally falls to the lot of amateurs. Indeed, his long ■winter absences from England kept him from gaining anything more than a superficial knowledge of agriculture, such as is disclosed in the following note to his mother, in answer to inquiries as to crops and prospects : — "Farming is better certainly this year than the last, but we farmers always grumble, as you know, and I don't like to say anything until the new wheat is threshed. You ought to sow youi- tares and rye immediately, and they will do very well after potatoes ; they ought to be well manured. If you mean by ' rye ' Italian rye-grass, I don't IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 135 exactly know when it is best to sow it ; in the spring I believe, but I have never had any yet, and you must ask about it. One thing I know, that it ought to have liqiiid manure, to be put on directly after cutting ; this will give you a fresh crop in a little more than a montL" When the Volunteer movement began, he threw him- self into it at once ; for no man was more impatient of, or . humiliated by, the periodical panics which used to seize the country. He helped to raise a corps in his own neigh- bourhood, of which he became captain, and went to one of the first classes for Volunteers at the School of Musketry, to make himself competent to teach his men. As to the result he writes : — " Undeecliff, 1860. " Our schooling at Hythe terminated on Friday last, on which day 100 lunatics were let loose upon society. I say lunatics, because all of us just now have but one idea, and talk, think, and dream of nothing but the rifle (call it Miss Enfield) morning, noon, and night. Colonel WeMord, the chief instructor, is a charming man and a delightful lecturer, and withal a greater limatic than any of us — just the right man in the right place. 1 shot fairly, but did not distinguish myself as Harry did." I spoke of his "vers de societe" just now, and in this connection will here give you a specimen of them. The expenses of the corjps of course considerably exceeded the Government grant, and the deficiency had to be met some- how. My brother started a theatrical performance in the Town Hall, Hitchin, as a method at once of making both 136 MEMOIR OF A BROTREB. [chap. ends meet, and of interesting the townspeople in the corps. The last piece of the entertainment was one of his own. The characters were played chiefly by members of his own family. He himself acted the part of a pompous magis trate, and at the close spoke the following EPILOGUE. " Silence in Court ! what's this unseemly rumpus ? Attention to the parting words of Bumpus. Tired of disguise, of borrowed rank and station. Thus in a trice I work my transformation. His wig and nose removed, the beak appears A simple officer of Volunteers, Who to himself restored, and sick of mumming. Begs leave to thank you each and all for coming, Spite of cross roads, dark lanes, tenacious clay, And benches not too soft, to hear our play. Next, to those friends my warmest thanks are due Who give their aid to-night, but chief to you Who for my sake, and only for to-day, O'ercome your natural shyness of display. Now comes the hardest portion of my task, A most momentous question 'tis to ask. I pause for your reply with bated breath — I humbly hope you've not been bored to death ? Thanks for the signal which success assures ; Welcome to all, but most to amateurs. Thanks, gentle friends, your welcome cheers proclaim We have not altogether missed our aim. Not ours your hearts to thrUl, your tears to move. With Hamlet's madness, Desdemona's love. We dare not bid in high heroic strain K.J MIDDLE LIFE. 137 Wolsey or Eichelieii rise and breathe again. We walk in humbler paths, and cannot hope (To quote the spirit-stirring verse of Pope) ' To wake the soul with tender strokes of Art, To raise the genius and to mend the heart ; To make mankind in conscious vu-tue bold. Live o'er each scene and be what they behold.' No — with deep reverence for these nobler views, We seek not to instruct you, but amuse ; To make you wiser, better, we don't claim — To make you laugh, our only end and aim. And as the test of everything, men say. Is just this simple question—does it pay ? Well, then (I speak for self and comrades present). This acting pays us well ; we find it pleasant. If at the same time it amuses you. We reap a double gain vouchsafed to few. To please ourselves and please our neighbours too. Besides, to-night in more material sense. It pays us well in shillings, pounds, and pence. Tour dollars flush our regimental till. But in more sterling coin we're richer still : Yes, doubly, trebly, rich in your goodwilL And so farewell ! but stop, before we part. We'll sing one song and sing it from the heart. Just one song more : you guess the song I mean : Our brave time-honoured hymn, ' God save the Queen.' " He continued also to act as mentor to his younger brothers, two of whom went in due course to Cambridge, and, to his great delight, pulled in their college racing boat (Trinity Hall), which was then at the head of the river. He often visited them at Cambridge, and, when- 138 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. ever he could manage it, would spend some part of the vacation with them, joining them in all their amuse- ments, and helping them in their studies. You may judge of the sort of terms they were on, by this extract from a letter to his mother in August 1856 : — "We shall be very happy to join you in Scotland. I want to know whether good fishing tackle is procurable at Stirling, or in the neighbourhood of Callender. At Kdinbro' and Glasgow I know it can be obtained, and much cheaper than in London. Perhaps Harry can inform me, if he is not too much occupied in discovering the value of x< which I believe is the great object of mathematics (I speak it not profanelj'). Tell Harry and Arthur I expect to find them both without breeches. ' Those swelling calves were never meant To shun the puWie eye,' as Dr. Watts remarks, or would have remarked if he had \vritten on the subject." Such occupations as these, with magistrate's work, and field sports taken in moderation, served to fill up his time, and would have satisfied most men situated as he was. But he could never in all these years get the notion quite out of his head (though it wore off later) that he was not doing his fair share of work in the world, aiid was a useless kind of personage, for whom no one was much the better but his wife and children, and whom IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 139 nobody but they would miss. This feeling showed itself in his immense respect for those who were working in regular professions, and in the most conscientious scrupu- lousness about taking up their time. Often he has come to my chambers, and, after hurrying through some piece of family business, has insisted on going away directly, though I might not have seen him for a month, and was eager to talk on fifty subjects. The sight of open papers was enough for him; and he had not practised long enough to get the familiarity which breeds contempt, and to loiow how gladly the busiest lawyer puts aside au Abstract, or Interrogatories in Chancery, for the chance of a pleasant half-hour's gossip. I think, however, that I can show you clearly enough, in a very few words, what his real work in the world was during these years, and how perfectly unconscious he was that he was doing it faithfully. In 1857, your grandfather had a dangerous attack of illness, from which he never recovered. George was with him and nursed him during the crisis. As soon as he was well enough to use a pen, he wrote as follows to Lady Salusbury : — " Amongst other things it occurs to me how much I have had to thank God for through life, and how my family have always dra^vn together in the way I wished them. And here I should be doing injustice to George, if I did not in my own mind trace much of this happy result to his quiet and imperceptible influence as an elder brother, in many ways of which my wife and I were not exactly 140 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. cognizant at the time. Perhaps I am thinking more about him just now as he was in his natural place as my right-hand man wlien I was taken unwell ; and when I say truly, that neither his mother or I ever had even an unkind word or disrespectful look from him since he was born, and that his constant study through Ufe, as far as we are concerned, has been to spare us rather than give us trouble, and throw his own personal interests over much more than we chose to allow him, it is especially for the purpose of giving dear A (her adopted daughter) a precedent to quote with her own lips in the training of her own boys which I know will be particularly accept- able to herself. It is the last theme on which he would like to expatiate, but that such was m}' deliberate and true opinion, will be, I doubt not, one of these days, a source of satisfaction to them both, and to the children." Your grandfather died shortly afterwards, and a year later George wrote to his motlier : — " I feel that we have great cause for gratitude and rejoicing as a family ; I mean for the way in which we hang together, and the utter absence of any subject of discord or disagreement between any of our members. I think we may well be happy, even while thinking of what happened this time last year, as I have done very frequently of late." He would have been impatient, almost angrj-, if any- one had told him that the " hanging together," at which he rejoiced, was mainly his own doing. In the village, too, he was beginning to find occupation of the most useful kind. Thus he opened a village reading- IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 141 room for the labourers, •whieli was furnislied with hooks and papers, and lighted and warmed, every evening from seven to nine. " Hitherto it is a great success," he writes in 1868 : " we have fifty memhers who suhscrihe 2d. a week, and we give them a cup of coffee and a hiscuit for Id. Some of them drink five or six cups a night. Whether coffee will continue to beat beer I don't know, but at present it keeps them from the public-house, and saves their wages for their wives. Some of them are very fond of reading, and the rest play draughts and dominoes." Then there were frequent "laundry entertain- ments," — ^penny readings, or theatrical performances in the big laundry, — of which his sister writes : " The boys and Mr. Phillips and I used to make the music, but the great hits of the evening were always George's. He used to recite ' The One-horse Chay,' or some Ingoldsby Legend, or ' The Old Woman of Berkeley,' or sing a comic song, and the people liked his performances better than anything. Like aU very reserved people, he acted wonderfully well, and always knew how every part should be done, so he used to coach us all when a play was being got up. But he would never criticise unless asked : he always thought that people knew as well as he did how to do their parts, but they did not. He was always so droll on these occasions. When a performance was proposed by the boys, he used to say it was too much trouble, and that he wanted to be left quiet. But they always got their way, and when it 142 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. was inevitable he would learn liis entire part while we others were mastering a page. I was always whip, because I could not stand doing anything by halves, and used to drive everyone mercilessly tUl the scenes began to go smoothly. He would sometimes rehearse his part almost under his breath, gabbling it oflf with the book in his hand, and then I would remonstrate, and he would go through it splendidly, as well as on the day of per- formance." But the reform which he had most at heart he never lived to caiTy out. The industry of straw-plaiting, which prevails in tho neighbourhood, while it enables the women and girls to earn high wages, makes them bad housewives, aU their cooking and cleaning being neglected, while they run in and out of neighbours' houses, gossiping and plaiting. In the hope of curing this evU he looked forward to fitting up a large barn in the village as a sort of general meeting-place. Here, when he had made the roof air-tight, and laid down a good floor, there was to be a stove for cooking and baking, and appliances for in- struction in other household work. Under his wife and sister there were to be "cooking classes, sewing classes, and singing classes ; and, in the evenings, entertainments for the poor people, a piano and night classes, some- times theatricals, and often concerts, and when the boys wanted to dance they were to have their dances there. He used to think that constant meetings in the barn would IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 143 humanize us all, and be a very pleasant thing for making rich and poor meet on ecuial terms." It is perhaps vain to dwell upon such things, but I cannot help hoping that some day those of you who have the opportunity of realizing such plans may remember to what purposes the big barn was once destined. Of one other part of his village work, his Sunday evening classes for the big boys, I shall have to speak presently. But you must not suppooe from anything in this chapter that he ever lost his interest in politics, or public affairs. He was always a keen politician, retaining, however, all his early beliefs. " You have all got far bej^ond me," he writes to his sister ; " and my dear mother turning Eadical in her old age is delightful." Perhaps the most ardent politician amongst us all is the best witness to call on this subject. " I don't think anything was more remark- able about George than his politics. He, who was so good an old Tory in many ways, showed that he believed in a universal principle and duty underlying all the political opinions about the best means of carrying out reforms. I think it is very rare, when people are discussing politics, to find this constant recognition of something beyond party nostrums. But (as in his father) I have always detected it in George; and, when I have got very hot whilst propounding Kadicalism against all the rest here, have always found sympathy from him at the bottom ; and I have always felt at last how much more truly liberal 144 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. he was at heart than we Eadicals, because we are always wanting to force on our opinions our own way, whilst in him I always recognized a di\'ine sort of justice and patience, which used to make me feel rery conceited, and wanting in faith. He was horn with aristocratic instincts, being by nature intensely sensitive and refined, with a loathing of anything blatant and in bad taste, and with an intense love of justice ; and the unwise, violent, fooUsh way in which many men like expound their doc- trines disgusted him beyond measure, though he ■would always recognize the real truth that lay at the bottom of Eadicalism." But he shall speak for himself on one great event, which you are aU old enough to remember, the late war between France and Germany. Almost the first incident of the war — the despatch of the then Emperor, speaking of the Prince Imperial's "baptism of fire" — ^roused his indignation so strongly that it found vent in the following lines : — By ! baby Bunting, Daddy's gone a himting, Bath of human blood to win. To float his baby Bunting in. By, baby Bunting. "What means this hunting ? Listen ! baby Bunting — "Wounds — that you may sleep at ease, Death — that you may reign in peace. Sweet baby Buntings IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 145 Yes, baby Bunting ! Jolly fun is hunting ! Jacques in front shall bleed and toil, You in safety gorge the spoil. Sweet baby Bunting. Mount ! baby Bunting, Eide to Daddy's hunting ! On its quiet cocky-horse, Two miles in^the rear, of course. Precious baby Bunting. Ah, baby Bunting ! Oftentimes a hunting, Eager riders get a spill — Let us hope your Daddy will Poor little Bunting. Perpend, my small friend. After all this hunting. When the train at last moves on Daddy's gingerbread " salon" May get a shunting. Poor baby Bunting ! Curse on such a hunting ! Woe to him who bloods a child For ambitious visions wild. Poor baby Bunting ! " October 6th, 1870.— I am, I think, rapidly changing sides about this horrid war. You know I was a tremen- dous Prussian at the outset, but (although the French deserve aU they get) I really can't stand the bombard- ment of Paris ; besides, Bismarck is repulsive." 146 MEMOIR OF A BBOTRER. [chap. "Offley, 1S71. " I think that the high and mighty tone assumed hy Herr Gustave Soiling (German superhuman excellence, Handel, Beethoven, Minnesingers, &c.) the worst possible vehicle for the defence of the German terms of peace. Mlien a man talks ' buncomhe,' it shows that he has an uneasy feeling that his case is a weak one. The cynical line is the right one for the Germans ; why not say, in the words of Wordsworth, — ' And why ? Because tlie good old rule SufBceth them ; the simple plan. That they should take who have the power. And they should keep who can.' But pray don't say this to our cousin, and thank her for her translation. You know what I think about the matter ; I would have gone to war with the French to stop the war ; and I would have gone to war with the Germans to stop the peace. There's an Irish view of it, from a sincere war-hater." The person who knew him best once wrote of your grandfather's politics : " Men of all parties speak of him as belonging to their clique. This proves to me, if I had required the proof to strengthen the conviction, that there is a point on the plain of politics at which the moderate Tory, the sensible Whig, and the right-minded Eadical, in other words all true patriots, meet; like the vanishing point in a picture to which all true and correct lines tend. And thus it is with him : he has reached that point, and there he foregathers with aU of all parties, who, throwing aside IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 147 party prejudice, act and think for the good of their fell ow- creatures." The description, I cannot but think, applied equally well to my brother, though he continued nominally a Tory to the end, and, as yoxi will all recollect, lived as quiet, methodical a country life as if he had no interests in the world beyond crops, field sports, and petty sessions. But that it must have required a considerable effort on his part to do this comes out in much of his most intimate correspondence. For instance, only a month or two before his death he writes to his sister: — "Thanks, many, for your letter, and Mrs. S 's. Hers is delightful, and I so fully understand her feeling. I always feel nncomfort- able in point-device places, where the footman is always brushing your hat, and will insist upon putting out your clothes, and turning your socks ready to put on, and, if you say half a word, will even put them on for you. How T hate being ' valeted ! ' I should like to black my own boots, like Mr. , but then he is (or was) a master of foxhounds, and, being of course on that account a king of men, can do as he pleases, in spite of Mrs. Grundy. I am also a gypsey (is that rightly spelt ? That word, and some others, are stumbling-blocks to me ; I am afraid all my spelling is an affair of memory), a Bohemian at heart. I sometimes feel an almost irresistible desire to doff my .breeches and paint myself blue. I should also like (I would limit myself to one month per annum) to go with a L 2 148 MEMOIR OF A. BROTHER. [chap. carpet-bag to the nearest station, and to rougli it in all sorts of outlandish places — but then A can't rough it, and there are the brats, and lots of other impediments. The very act of "wandering anywhere delights me. I think we spoil half the enjoyment of life by being too particular ; how terrible dinner-parties are becoming ! But enough of my sermon. In spite of my secret longings I shall continue to do as • my neighbours, and it would be wicked in my case to be discontented. They threatened to nominate me Chairman of the Board of Guardians here, but finding that the Vice-chairman was standing (and thinking him better qualified), I declined any contest, and was not put up. I am sorry for it, for the office, although troublesome, is capable of being made useful, and I think I should have liked it in time ; " and then comes a sen- tence which may serve to explain to some of you your feelings towards him — " I cannot forgive for putting " (one of his nephews) " on a bolting horse. If you do mount a boy, you ought to give him the cleverest and quietest horse in your stable, and no sportsman would do otherwise." There is one more trait in his character which I must not omit here, as I wish to give j'ou as perfect a know- ledge of him as I have myself. I have already told you how very scrupulous he was with regard to money matters. He had, indeed, a hoiTor of debt which made him morbidly sensitive on the subject ; and he recognized the fact, and IX.] MIDDLE LIFE. 149 treated himself for it as he would have done for a fit of bile, or any other physical disorder. On more than one occasion, when some unlooked for expenditure seemed likely to bring on a more than usually severe attack, he cured himself by some piece of unwonted extrava- gance, such as buying a diamond ornament for his wife, or malting a handsome present to some poor relation. The remedy answered perfectly in his case; but I am boimd to add that it is one which I cannot recommend as a specific without the warning, that, before using it, you must satisfy yourselves, as he always did, that there were no reasonable grounds for uneasiness. But if he sometimes worried himself about money, he kept his anxiety to himself, and was constantly doing the most liberal acts in the most thoughtful manner. Of the many instances I could give of this, I select one, which an old friend has communicated to me with per- mission to mention it. I give it in his own words: — " There is one little incident connected with his personal relations to me which I shall always remember with feelings of gratitude and pleasure. When the Suez Canal was opened I had an offer of a free passage out and home in a P. and 0. steamer, and I was rather exercised in my mind by not feeling it prudent to accept, as I knew that living in Egypt for a fortnight at that time would be very expensive, and I knew that I could not afford it. I happened to be writing to him about that 150 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [en. ix. time, and mentioned this in my letter. By return of post he sent me a cheque for £50, begging me to accept it as a loan, to be paid when I had as much to spare, or never if I preferred it. I did not take advantage of his generous kindness, and I declare I almost regret now that I did not, as I believe I should have given him sincere pleasure in so doing." CHAPTEE X. LETTERS TO SIS BOYS. The douljts as to Hs own usefulness in the world, noticed in the last chapter, wore off naturally as he fell into the routine of country life ; but it was the growth of the younger generation — of you for whom this sketch is written — which found him in work and interest during the last years of his life. I could never have envied him any- thing; but if there was one talent of his more than another which I have longed to share, it was his power of winning, not only the love, but the frank confidence, of his own, and all other boys. I think the secret was, that he was far more in sympathy with them ; could realize more vividly their pleasures, and troubles, than almost any man of his age. And then, he had never given up athletic games altogetlier, and was still a far better cricketer and football player than most boys, and ready to join them in their sports whenever they seemed to wish it. Few things gave him more pleasure than taking up a"ain the thread of intimate relations with his old school. 152 MEMOIR OF A BUOTRER. [chap. wliicli he did when his eldest nephew entered there. He accompanied him, to give him confidence and a good start, and characteristically recounts that "we had a famous football match, and I got my legs kicked to my heart's content, thereby vividly recalling old times." He remarks also, at the same time, " Eugby is charming ; only there is rather too much what I call * drUl,' in the play as in the work — not spontaneous enough." Not long after, in 1866, his own eldest boy followed. He thus details that event to his mother : — " Offlet, Septeitibar 27, 1866. " We went to Eugby last Thursday, and the new-comers were examined on Friday and Saturday. As we rather feared, Herby failed to get into the Middle School We were rather disappointed, and he, poor boy, was in despair, as he was afraid Arnold would not take him, and that he would have to go to Mr. Furness ; however, Arnold offered to make an exception in his case, and as we joyfully ac- cepted it. Master Herby was duly installed in his uncle's study, and we left him on Monday morning very happy, and delighted with his new dignity of a public school boy. Our visit to Eugby was very pleasant, and not a little exciting. The school is much altered since my time — ^the boys are much more accurately dressed, less. rollicking, and more decorous. The exceeding quiet of the town and play- ground struck me particularly. I should like to have seen a little more running about, and to have heard a little more shouting ; in fact a jolly curly-haired youngster with whom I made a casual acquaintance, said to me, ' I am sure, sir, you must have had much more fun in your time than we have.' It is perhaps just as well that they should have X.] LETTERS TO HIS BOYS. 153 become e[uieter. The recognized name for the anxious parents who bring their boys up for examination is the ' Early Fathers,' because, I suppose, they take care to be at the schoolroom-door witb their Hopefuls a quarter of an hour before the examination begins. Jenny Lind's boy bas just gone to the School-house ; he is, as boys say, awfully 'cute, and came out nearly head of the examina- tion. Jenny Lind was at chapel herself on Sunday ; her husband has done much for the music of the school ; the singing in chapel is exceedingly good, and the whole service very impressive. The last time I was in chapel there was in poor Arnold's time. The master of Herby's form, Mr. BuckoU, was my old master when I was in the shell thirty years ago ! Also 'hlis. Jacomb, of the principal tuck shop, used to spoil our stomachs in my time. I felt myself rather boyish again, without the boisterous spirits and good stomach of boyhood." From this time he constantly visited the school, and kept his mother and sister informed of the progress of the boys. I add a few extracts from his letters : — " N'ovember, 1866. — I was at Eugby last Saturday, and stayed over Sunday. Walter breakfasted with me on Sunday morning, and very jolly he was. He and Herby won't see much of one another until they get higher in the school. Junior boys never enter each other's boarding- houses. This is veiy absurd, but no power on earth can alter boys' fashions." " Eaton Socon, November 2Sth, 1867. " Boys' letters get so full of school slang that it is hard to understand them. Herbert says in his last that he got 154 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. 100 lines from Chuinley for tweakiTig. This was Hebrew to us, as ' tweaking ' was not a Rugby word in my time. On referring tlie matter to Ned, he immediately informed us that ' tweaking ' in boys' language was, shooting shot out of a catapult, or other warlike engine." " Offlby, 1868. " We have excellent accounts from Rugby. Herbert is at the head of his form, and evidently finds his work easier, and is in a high state of encouragement. One of his schoolfellows has just shot himself in the leg with a ' saloon,' meaning a saloon pistoL Hang all pistols, but" boys will have them." " Offley, October 1th, 1868. " Concerning schoolboys' etiquette, it beats all other etiquette. Public schools cultivate reserve, and so strongly that I think one never gets quit-e rid of it, although one gets better in after-life. I wish it was not so ; it is one of the drawbacks of public schools, which are on the whole excellent institutions. One must take the sours with the sweets. "Herbert would not think of speaking to a school- fellow (not on a par with himself), unless first spoken to. And in public schools the great ' swells ' are those distin- guished at cricket, football, &c. Then come the sixth, by virtue of their legal power. Then the great middle class, iucluding clever, stupid, pleasant, unpleasant, &c., and then the new boys, and the very small boys. All the power and influence is in the hands of the athletes, and the sixth form, and all the rest pay them (the athletes) the greatest respect, and the most willing obedience. They obey the sixth (lawful authority) less willingly. All this is not quite satisfactory, but it might be worse. At all events Temple, who is a tremendous Radical, knows it and X.] LETTERS TO HIS BOYS. 155 allows, nay, encourages it. But I find that few people are Eadicals in their own departments." " Offley, November 7th, 1868. " I went for the day to see the old Eug. match, and gave Walter and Herbert a dinner at the ' Shoes ' before going away. Walter played in the match, and the young ones gave it the old Eugs hot, much to my delight. Walter seemed wonderfully well, and ditto Herbert. He always looks pale at school, but he was in high spirits, and evidently enjoys school life. He is very different from me in some things ; his study is awfully 'cute (that's boys' English, and means tidy and full of knick-knacks) ; in fact he is a bit of a dandy ; I was not. Also he must be a Ijetter boy than I was, for his character is really first- rate in everything; and the masters used always to row me for not doing as much as I could. That was the burden of their song." As a complement to these letters, I add here extracts from those to his eldest boy : — " Thank you much for your letter received this morning ; j-ou are very good in writing so regularly, and I hope you will keep up the habit, for (I repeat) there is no pleasure to us so great as to receive your letters. We are glad to hear you are ' all right ' in your form. I have no objection to the Eifle corps. It would be odd if I had, as I was a Volunteer myself ; only go into it heartily, and learn your drill well It is capital exercise, and it will do you good to be ' set up,' as you stoop too mucL I should not think, however, that Temple would let the Eugby volunteers go to Windsor. If he thinks proper to do so, of course I have no objection. I suppose that as usual you are ' hard up,' so I send you a P.O. order. You must learn to exercise a little 156 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. forethouglit and self-denial atoufc money matters : you spend more than your income. You must overcome this habit, for it would embarrass and, perhaps, ruin you hereafter." The next extract refers to some help in his work which his father sent him from time to time : — " I depend upon your looking out all the words, and work- ing it out for yourself with the help of my translation. Tou promised me to do this, and I know you are a boy of your word, otherwise I shouldn't think it right to help you: Your tutor may ask if you have any assistance. If he does you must say j'ou found it very hard (which it really Is for a boy of your age), and asked me to help you. There is nothing like being open and truth-telling with your masters, and every one. If he objects to my helping you, you must do the best you can without it, like a man ; but I don't think he will object. Your place in the form seems very satisfactory: if you do get out we shall be very much pleased, but don't make yourself anxious about it, only do your best " Again at the beginning of the following half-year : — " The reason you give for having lost a few places is no doubt the right one — that you have not got yet into the swing — it will be all right in a week or two. I have no doubt you will get your remove at the end of term easily enough. The exam, (if I understand rightly) consists of subjects which you prepare during term, aud there is not much 'unseen.' This will be an advantage to you over the idle ones who don'f prepare their work. I shall be delighted to help you in any way, if you will only let me know, and give me due notice. Perhaps you won't believe me when I assure you again, that Latin prose will come to X.] LETTERS TO SIS BOTS. 157 you as well as cricket and football in good time ; but it is the truth nevertheless. At your age I often felt the same discouragement which you feel. I had rather overgrown myself like you, and was longer ' ripening ' (to use an ex- pressive phrase) than many fellows who did not grow so fast ; but it all came right in my case, as it wiU in yours. Therefore en avant and don't be discouraged " " We are very glad to hear that you are in upper-middle one, and it will make us very happy if you can get another remove at Christmas. It is to be done if you like, and as you cannot play football just now (worse luck) you will have more time. Don't you want some help in your tutor work ? If so, send me the book ; or is there anything else in which I can help you? You are now rapidly becoming a young man, and have probably some influence in the school, and wiU have more. Be kind to the new boys and juniors ; even if they are ' scrubby,' your business is to polish them, and you wiU do this much better by a little kind advice than by making their lives a burden (I don't say, mind, that you are unkind to them). Don't ' bosh ' yoitr masters. Eemember that they are gentlemen like yourself, and that it is insulting them to 'bosh' them when they are taking trouble with you. As to the sixth form, I don't quite approve of all the customs thereof, but it is an institution of the school, and, on the whole, bene- ficial, and it is no use kicking against it. Now I have done with my preaching. I don't know that it is neces- sary, but it can do you no harm, and I know you respect my opinion. Tour mother is horrified at your signing yourself 'Htighes,' tout court (as the French say), so to please her don't forget to put in 'your affectionate son' (as I know you are). God bless you. " Yours most affectionately, "G. E. Hughes." 158 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. " I was niucli pleased hj your writing so openly to nie. It will make me very happy if 3'ou will treat me with perfect confidence in aU matters. You need have no fear that I shall not understand and sympathise with you, for although (as we have said in joke) I was a Eugbeian in the time of the ancient Britons, when we had no hreeches, and painted ourselves blue for decency's sake, it seems to me a very short time since I was as you are, and I have a very vivid recollection of my 3'outh, feelings, prejudices, faults, and all the rest of it." And then, after some advice about his matriculation at Oxford, his father goes on : — "I am not going to preach to you about billiards. If there had been a table at Rugby in my time (there was none), I might very possibly have played myself; although, like you, I should certainly not have made a habit of it, preferring, as I did and do, more active amusements. Don't play again at Eugby ; it would be childish, as well as wrong, to risk leaving the school under a cloud, for such a paltry gratification. I don't agree with you in comparing billiards to your school games : billiards (public) generally involve smoking, and a certain amount of drinking, and losing money (or winning, which is worse) ; and engender a aort of lounging habit. I am afraid you have rather a fast lot at Eugby, and what you tell me about card-plajlng makes me rather anxious about Jack. It is altoo-ethex abominably bad form, and I wish you would get up au opposition to it. It ought to be put down for the credit of the school. I must say that there was no such card- playing in my time. Having said my say, I must leave you to do what you can, in concert with any other big K. 1 LETTERS TO TTIS BOYS- 159 fellows in the house, who may be brought to see the matter in my light." The " Jack " referred to in the last letter was his third boy, who was now in his first term at a preparatory school for Eugby. This chapter may fitly close with his letters to this, the youngest of his boys whom he lived to see launched at school. He was a favourite subject of study to his father, who writes of him at Pan, years before : " Jack will be, I think, the strongest of the lot. He always clears his plate, fat and all, and always clears his lesson, however dis- agreeable;" and again, to his sister, who was the boy's godmother : — " Your favourite Jack is always running after me, and is a very good boy, and surprisingly good company too. He has not quite forgotten how to 'beak' himself when he feels insulted. About a week ago the children had some shrimps for tea, and Jack was offended because he was presented with a ' baby ' shrimp instead of a big one ; so he pushed his chair from the table, and prostrated himself on his knees, with his nose in the carpet. After remaining for five minutes in that position, he felt better. It is a more amusing way of getting rid of steam than crying. Children have the funniest fancies in the world. There is a Scotch terrier next door to us, with a grave and venerable face, and a long grey beard. Jack said one day, ' that doggy like Moses coming down de mountain ;' and so he really is like Moses, in one of those little wood- cuts in which children delight, but I should never have thought of such a ridiculous comparison." 160 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. "Westward Ho, October 1871. " Dearest Old Boy, " Here we are all right, and I wish we had your jolly face at the other end of the table, for we miss you xerj much. I have begun golf, but there are not many golfers here yet ; however, there is one very good player named -Pliphant, so I have not much chance of the medal. Tour friends the Molesworths are both gone to Eadley School, near Oxford. There are only 100 boys there, but it is a nice place, and being near the Thames, they get plenty of rowing ; in fact, that is their chief amusement. Ned plays golf with me, but has not got into his play yet. You are a good old boy for writing so often, and I hope you will continue it. ITothing gives us so much pleasure as your letters and Herbert's, and don't think that anything that happens to you is too trifling to tell us of. Now about your letter. I always thought that you would find the lessons rather a grind at first : you see it is your first school, and you have had no experience in working with a lot of other boys, perhaps making a row, and idling around you. Never mind. It will' get easier every day, and besides, I believe that you have something of the bull-dog about you, and won't be discouraged by a little hardship and difficulty at first. I hope you will be one of your fifteen, for then I shall come up to see you play, but anyhow I am as certain as I can be of anything that you will be first-rate at foot- ball some day, and a first-rate scholar too, I hope. The two things often go together. All well, and send best love. Mamma and Argy hope your shoulder is not much hurt, and I have no doubt it is all right again. God bless yon. " Yours most affectionately, "G.E. R "P.S. — I shall never think anything that you write awful bosh.' " X.] LETTERS TO HIS BOYS. 161 "Offley, ■VTestward Ho, 1871. "Deabest Jack, "Thank you for your letters, which interest us immensely. Boys make the most absurd customs, as you will find out : it is better to give way to their customs in a good-tempered way; new boys are not admitted at once to the full privileges. It does not much matter, as I hope you won't be long at . Boys think it very fine and manly not to prepare their lessons, whereas in fact nothing can be more childish. Take your own way, and never mind them. It is half pretence with them, and they will respect you more if they see you have your own way. You need not stand being ' sat upon,' and yet you can be good-tempered and obliging, but, above all, don't forget what I said to you when we parted. Don't forget the lessons you have leai-nt at home (I don't mean Latin and Greek). God bless you. Write as oftea as you have time. " Yours most affectionately, " G. E. H." "October 1871. " Deaeest Old Boy, " Thank you for your letters. They are well written and spelt, and creditable to you in every way. Although it is not pleasant to us to hear that you are miserable (or rather uncomfortable, for ' miserable ' is a strong word), yet we always like to hear exactly what you feeL I don't think you can be exactly miserable, for I believe that you are doing your best. God will not suffer us to be miserable (at least not for any time) whilst we do our duty. Don't be discouraged about your work ; you see it is your first plunge into schooL All your schoolfellows have had more experience than you : practice will give you the quickness and accuracy that you want. M 162 MEMOIR OF A BEOTHEM. [chap. " Your feelings towards us are quite natural : wlien you are at home, perfectly happy, although you do not love us less, you do not feel it so much ; when you are thrown among a lot of people who do not much care about you, you find out the value of our love for you, and think more of us. However, you have Herbert, and I daresay you think that you love him better now than ever you did at home. As we are all sinful and imperfect creatures, I have no doubt that you have sometimes done and said things which we should be sorry to hear of. You must ask God to help you to do better in future; but I must say that I have always found you good and obedient, and you have- never given us any anxiety. There is one lesson which" you ought to learn from your present feelings of discomfort and worry ; when you are a big boy at Eugby, and see any poor little fellow worried and uncomfortable, you must say a kind word to him (remembering what you once felt yourself) ; you have no idea how much good a kind word from a big fellow (what you call a swell) wiU do to a poor little beggar. You remember how kind Gardner was, and how much he was liked at Kugby for it. All are well, and send best love. I fully intend to come to. see you when I get back to Ofifley — ^perhaps to the old Eug. match. God bless you. "Yours most affectionately, " G. E. Hughes." "Dearest Old Boy, " November, is7i. " I know why you feel rather down in the mouth just now. You have .(to nse a phrase in athletics) lost your first wind, and haven't yet got your second wind. The novelty of excitement of school life has gone off, and you are too new to it yet to enjoy what there is enjoyable in it. Courage I I know your feelings well, having experienced X.] LETTEBS TO HIS BOTS. 163 them myself. So has Herbert : so, in short, has everyone who has ever heen at school. You will soon get over it all, and like your school life, although of course it is not so pleasant as home. Most schoolboys are seltish and bad- mannered, and there are always plenty of snobs and bullies amongst them; but there is always a minority of nice fellows. I am inclined to believe that as you go so often to Arnold's, you have not made much acquaintance with your schoolfellows. Perhaps it would be better to culti- vate their acquaintance more. Don't be afraid about not getting into Eugby. You ought to have heard Herbert's doleful forebodings about never being able to get out of lower school : he was much more doleful than you, but if you were to remind him of it, he would probably not remember it at all ; neither will you a year hence. If you are hungry, can't you buy grub in the town ? I mean something like sausage-rolLs, or hard eggs. I will give you the money for it ; or can you suggest any way in which we can supply you? What do you do on Sundays? and to what church do you go? I wish we could have you with us occasionally, just as much as you do. AU are well, and join in best love. God bless you. " Youjs most affectionately, " G. E. Hughes." "Dearest Old Boy, "Offlet. " I believe your mamma has written to j'ou, but I must give you a few lines to say how much we were pleased with your report which came this morning. There is no happiness in this world so great to iis as the assurance that you and your brothers are doing welL I am very sorry that you were down in the mouth at my departure. I should like to have you always with me, but you (being a boy of good sense) must know very M 2 164 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. well that it cannot be : you must (like aU others) fly from the nest some time or other, and school is the pre- paration for a longer flight. I have no doubt that now you are all right again. You won't be downhearted long, if you only work well and do your duty. At your age the spirits are very elastic, and soon recover any depression. "We shall be anxious to hear about your cough and Sharp's opinion. God bless you, " Yours most affectionately, "G. E. H." " Offley, Sunday, Nov. 26ih, 1871. '•'Dearest Old Bot, " I have nothing particular to tell you, but must write a line in return for your jolly letters, which are very plea- sant to us. I am very sony that your cough is not better. I am afraid that you ■will not get rid of it until we get you at home, and nurse you properly. You will soon be with us now ; in the meantime take care of yourself, and make the most of your time (I don't think I need tell you to work, as you seem so well inclined already). I wiU write about your coming home, and also about your going up for the entrance Exam, after Christmas. I wish very much that you should go up. I really don't see why you should go to Eugby three days before the Exam. ; but if they insist upon it, I suppose it must be so. I hope you won your match yesterday. It is verv unfortunate that you could not play as you would have done but for this unlucky cough. Never mind, you have plenty of time before you for football. All are well, and join in best love to you. God bless you. " Yours most affectionately, " G. E. Hughes. " The hounds come to Wellbury to-morrow. I hope your wame was good. Let us know." X.] LETTERS TO HIS BOYS. 165 At the beginning of the next term Jack went to Eugby, and almost the first letter he received from his father was the following Valentine, which species of missive appears to have become popular amongst boys : — "February 23, 1872. " This is the month when little Cu- -pid robs us of our senses, oh ! 'Tis he inspires me to renew My doleful strains of love to you, Oh, charming, fascinating cru- -el Walter Jacky Mansfield Hugh- -es, Scholae Rugbeiensis, oh ! " I learn to dance and sew, while you Are learning Latin tenses, oh ! How I should like to dance with you. Instead of with my frightful grew- -some governess, oh ! charming cru- -el Walter Jacky Mansfield Hugh- -es, Scholae Rugbeiensis, oh ! " I'm sure the least that you can do To calm my nerves and senses, oh I Is (though 'tis slightly overdue) To take this little billet-doux. And be the Valentine so true Of her who signs herself your Su- -san, charming, fascinating cru- -el Walter Jacky Mansfield Hugh- -es, Scholae Rugbeiensis, oh ! " Your Susan." 166 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. In explanation of an allusion in the next letter, I insert an extract of the same date, from one to his sister : — " Jack is in h^h force, but has been having extra lessons (with all his schoolfellows), in consequence of (what he calls) a 'towel fight,' and subsequent 'war dance,' in which the school indulged in an irrepressible burst of youthful spirits. What geese boys are ! " " Offlet, Mardi 1872. "Deaebst Jack, " I hope you got the hamper all right, and that the ' grub ' was good and of the right sort. Your ' war dance ' amused us excessively, and of course there is no harm in a war dance ; but, if it is forbidden, what an old goose you are to risk having impositions and extra lessons for it ! But schoolboys are always the same, and T can't expect you to be wiser than the rest. " If you can't make out why your copies are wrong, why don't you ask one of your schoolfellows ? I suppose some of them are good fellows, and would tell you your mistake ; or say operdy to the master that you can't find out, and I should think he would enlighten you. At least, he ought. We shall have you home in about three weeks, and right glad we shall be. Gro at it hard for the remainder of the term, for remember the entrance Exam. You must work a little in the holidays to keep up what you know. The boys are better, and have been playing football vigorously. Best love to Herbert ; ask him whether he wants any cricket practice. I mean Hughes to bowl. God bless you. " Yours most affectionately, " G. E. H." Westward Ho, from which several of the preceding letters were written, had become his favourite watering-place. He x] LETTERS TO HIS BOYS. 167 had gone there at first by chance, and, finding links and a golf club, had taken to the game with his usual success. At Pau he had played a little, but certainly never handled a club till he was past forty. Nevertheless, though it is a game in which, I am told, early training and constant practice is almost an essential condition of success, he entered for, and succeeded in winning the champion's medal in the annual gathering of 1870. Soon after his return from the meeting he wrote to me. " We spent three very pleasant weeks at Westward Ho. I wish that I could infect you with ' golfomania.' Golf is the middle-aged man's game. I mean by the middle-aged man, the man who could once, but cannot now, get down upon a leg shooter. We had & dozen hard-worked men from the city, besides doctors, lawyers, soldiers on leave, etc., all perfectly mad whilst it lasted. I was quite as mad as the rest, and having now ' relapsed ' into sanity, I am able to look back upon it with the most intense amuse- ment. The humour of the whole thing was positively sublime. Tou have heard squires at their wine after a good run — bless you, they can't hold a candle to golfers. Most of the players were Scotch, and the earnestness with which the Scotch ' play ' is a caution. I think of trying my hand at a rhapsody about golf." The rhapsody was, I believe, never written, but he con- tinued to like and practise the game till his death, which indeed is, in my mind, rather painfully connected with it. My last visit co Offley was in the short Easter vacation of this year, and I thought I had never seen him better, or 168 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. in more full vigour of body aud mind. On the 30th of March he mounted me, and I rode with him and two of his boys to a meet near Offley. "We had a run early in the day, and got home to a late lunch, after which he went out into his plantations and worked till dark. Indeed, when I left the same evening by the maU. train for the north, I beguiled my journey by thinking that the whole kingdom might be searched in vain to find a finer specimen of a man. On that day four weeks I received a telegram from, Hoy lake to say that he was lying there very dangerously ill. He had gone on there, after leaving his boys at Eugby, to take part in the golf tournament. He went down with a bad cold, but paid no attention to it, and went round the links with some friends on the first evening. The next day he became much worse, and was obliged to take to his bed, from which he never got up. The cold had settled on his lungs, and violent inflammation was set up. His wife and children were summoned at once, and his mother and sister and myself two days later. "When I arrived, the lower part of the lungs had suppurated, and the medical man gave very slight hopes of his recovery. He could only speak with exceeding difficulty, but retained his strength, and the grip of his hand was as strong as ever. He met death with the same courage as he had shown throughout life, giving me a few clear instructions for a codicil to his will, while his youngest boy lay with his head on his shoulder, crying bitterly, and almost with his X.] TETTERS TO HIS BOYS. 169 last breatlj regretting the trouble he was giving his nurse. On the afternoon of May 1st he received the Sacrament with all of us, and at four on the morning of the 2nd passed away, leaving behind him, I am proud to think, uo braver or better man. But you shall have better testimony than mine on this point. Out of the many letters to the same purpose which I received, and two of which have found a place in the earlier part of this memoir, I select an extract from one written by Bishop MacDougal, who, thirty years ago, had rowed behind him in the University boat. " I must just write a line to express my heartfelt sym- pathy with you in your sad, sad bereavement. Dear old Greorge ! What an irreparable loss to you and all his old friends ! I have myself been heavy-hearted ever since I heard he had been called away from us, and shall never think of his cheery voice, Ms hearty greeting, his kindly, loving words, without a sharp pang of regret that T shall no more in this life meet with him I loved so well, and admired as the finest specimen of the high-minded, earnest, true-hearted English gentleman it has been my lot to meet with. He was too good for this hard, selfish generation, and he is in God's mercy called away to that better world, where love and truth and peace dwell undisturbed in the presence of our blessed Lord. May we, my dear Tom, have gi-ace given us so to fight tlie good fight of truth and faith, that when our work is done we may be called thither to join your dear brother and our other loved ones, who have gained the victory over self and the world, and have been called to their rest before us." CHAPTEK XI. CONGLUSrON. Os looking througli the preceding pages, I have been struck with one special shortcoming. I am painfully conscious how poor and shallow the picture here attempted will be, in any case, to those who knew my brother best. Nevertheless, those for whom it was undertaken ■will, I trust, be able to get from it some clearer idea of the outer life of their father and uncle, but of that which underlies tbe outer life they wiU learn almost nothing. And yet how utterly inadequate must be any knowledge of a human being which does not get beneath this surface 1 How difl&cult to do so to any good purpose! For that " inner,'' or " eternal," or " religious " life (call it which you will, they all mean the same thing) is so entirely a matter between each human soul and God, is at best so feebly and imperfectly expressed by the outer life. But, difficult as it may be, the attempt must be made ; for I find that I cannot finish my task with a good conscience without making it. CHAP. XI.] CONCLUSION. 171 There is not one of you, however young, but must be living two lives — and the sooner you come to recognize the fact clearly, the better for you — the one life in the outward material world, in contact with the things which you can see, and taste, and handle, which are always changing and passing away : the other in the invisible, in contact with the unseen ; with that which does not change or pass away — which is the same yesterday, to-day, and for ever. The former life you must share with others, with your family, your schoolfellows and friends, with everyone you meet in business or pleasure. The latter you must live alone, in the solitude of your own inmost being, if you can find no Spirit there communing with yours — in the presence of, and in communion with, the Father of your spirit, if you are willing to recognize that presence. The one life will no doubt always be the visible expression of the other; just as the body is the garment in which the real man is clothed for his sojourn in time. But the expression is often little more than a shadow, unsatisfying, misleading. One of our greatest English poets has written — " The one remains, the many change and pass. Heaven's light for over shines, earth's shadows fly. Time, like a dome of many coloured glass. Stains the bright radiance of eternity. Until death tramples it to fragments." And so you and I are living now under the dome of many- 172 MEMOIR OF A BROTBER. [chap. coloured glass, and shall live as long as we remain in these bodies, a temporal and an eternal life — " the next world," which too many of ova teachers speak of as a place which we shall first enter after death, being in fact "next '' only in the truest sense of the word ; namely, that it is " nearest " to us now. The dome of time can do nothing more (if we even allow it to do that) than partially to conceal from us the light which is always there, beneath, around, above ns. "The outer life of the devout man," it has been well said, " should be thoroughly attractive to others. He would be sirnple, honest, straightforward, unpretending, gentle, kindly ; — his conversation cheerful and sensible ; he would be ready to share in all blameless mirth, indul- gent to all save sin." And tried by this test, the best we have at command, my brother was essentially a devout man. The last thirty years, the years of his manhood, have been a period of great restlessness and activity, chiefly of a superficial kind, in matters pertaining specially to religion. The Established Church, of which he was a member, from conviction as well as by inheritance, has been passing through a crisis which has often threatened her existence; faction after faction, as they saw their chance, rising up and striving in the hope of casting out those whose opinions or practices they disliked. Against all such attempts my brother always protested whenever he had an opportunity, and discouraged all those with whom he had any influence from taking any part in them. XI.] conclusion: its " I have no patience," for instance, he writes at one of these crises, " with for mixing himself up with Church politics. I believe you know what I think about them, namely, that both parties are right in some things and wrong in others, and that the truth lies between the two. I hope I shall always be able to express my dissent from both without calling names or imputing motives, and when I hear others doing so, I am always inclined, like yourself, to defend the absent I was very sorry to hear that has given up his parish. I cannot understand his excessive attachment to what is, after all, only the outside of religion ; but he is so good a man, so hard-working, so self-denying, that one feels what a great loss he must be." Outside the Church the same religious unrest has had several noteworthy results, perhaps the most remarkable of these being a negative one : I mean, the aggressive attitude and movement of what is popularly known as scientific thought. Amongst ;ts leaders have been, and are, some of the best, as well as the ablest, men of our time, who have had, as they deserved to have, a very striking influence. But the tone of scientific men towards religion has been uniformly impatient or contemptuous, not seldom petulant. " \^Tiy go on troubling yourselves and mankind about that of which you can know nothing?" they have said. "This ' eternal ' or ' inner ' life of which you prate is wholly beyond your ken. We can prove to you that mxich of your so-called theology rests on unsound premises. Be con- 174 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER. [chap. tent to work and learn with us in the material world, of which alone you can get to know anything certain." That challenge has shaken the foundations of much which called itself faith in our day. I never could discover that my brother was ever seriously troubled by it. Dissertations on the Mosaic cosmogony, theories of the origin of species, speculations on the antiquity of man, and the like, interested, but never seemed to rouse in him any of the alarm or anger which they have excited , in so many good Christians. Granting all that they tend to prove, they deal only with the outward garment, with the visible universe, and the life which must be lived in it, leaving the inner and real life of mankind quite untouched. He was, however, neither so tolerant of, nor I think so fair to, the stirring of thought within the Church, which has resulted in criticisms supposed to be destructive of much that was held sacred in the last generation. His keen sense of loyalty was offended by anything which looked like an attack coming from 'within the ranks, and so he shared the feeling so widely, and I think wrongly, entertained by English Churchmen, that the right of free thought and free speech on the most sacred subjects should be incompatible with holding ofi&ce in the Church. As to his own convictions on such subjects, he was extremely reserved, owing to a tendency which he believed he had detected in himself to religious melancholy, which he treated simply as a disease. But no one who knew XI.] CONCLUSION. 175 him at all could ever doubt that a genuine and deep religious faith was the basis of his character, and those who knew him best testify unanimously to its ever in- creasing power. "I don't know if you were ever told," his sister writes, "of the singular desire dying people had that George should be with them. You know how reserved he was, and he would always think that people would prefer some one who talked more to them, but I think it was his great gentleness and strength which made the dying feel him such a comfort. He never volun- teered ; but when sent for, as was often the case, always went to them, and read and prayed constantly with them as long as they lived. There was one poor young man who died of consumption, and George was constantly with him to the last. The father was a very disreputable character, and George seldom saw him. But some time after the young man's death, the father met George in the fields, and threw himself on his knees to bless him for his love for his dead son. George came home much shocked that the man should have knelt to him. One old man, whom he used to go to for weeks and weeks during his long last iUness, really adored him, and, when George was away for a short time, prayed that he might live till he saw him again. And George was back before he died." Of this old man, he writes himself to his mother : — "My old friend died on Saturday morning. I mean Tom Pearse, for fifty years an honest labourer in this 176 MEMOIR OF A BliOTHER. [chap. parish. I am very sorry that (as he died in the short hours) I could not be with him at the last, but very glad that he died before I left Offley. So was he. He prayed every day to die, not that he suffered, but he had such a strong faith that death would be much better. He said to me almost the last time I saw him, ' I thought, sir, I should have been home before this.' And when he was taken worse at last, he asked the nurse, ' Am I going home ?' ' Yes.' ' I'm so glad,' he answered, and died soon after. What an euthanasia ! All good people call death going home. ' Let me die the death of the righteous, and my last end be like his.'" Intercourse of the most sacred and intimate kind with the old, and dying, and suffering of another station in life is, however, far easier to a man of reserved temper than it is with the young and healthy. The most difficult class to reach in country villages, as in our great towns, is that which is entering Ufe, not that which is thinking of quitting it. You may get young men together for cricket or football, or even for readings, or in a club, and attain in the process a certain familiarity with them, useful enough in its way, but not approaching the kind of intimacy which should exist between people passing their lives in the same small community. The effort to do anything more with a class just emancipated from control, full of strength and health, and as a rule suspicious of advances from those in a rank above their own, must alwaj's be an exceedinglj'- difficult one to make for such a man as my brother, and is rarely successful. He made it, and succeeded. During all XI.] CONCLUSION. 177 the winter montlis, on every Sunday evening the young men and the elder boys of the village were invited to his house, and quite a number of them used to come regularly. They were received by him and his wife. First he would read a passage of Scripture, and explain and comment on it, and afterwards he or his wife read to them some amusing book. He used to speak with the greatest delight of the pleasure which these meetings seemed to give, and of their excellent effect on his own relations with the yoimg men and boys who frequented them. "When the time for separating came, they used all to say the Apostles' Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the following short prayer which he wrote ^ for the purpose : — " Lord God, Thou knowest all things. Thou seest us by night as well as by day. We pray Thee, for Christ's sake, forgive us whatever we have done wrong this day. May we be sorry for our sins, and believe in Jesus Christ, who died for sinners. May the Holy Spirit make us holy. Take care of us this night, whilst we are asleep. Bless our fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters, and all our relations and friends, and do them good, for Christ's sake. Help us to be good as long as we live, and when we die, may we go to heaven and be happy for ever, because Christ died for us. Amen." If I were to write a volume, I could throw no clearer light on the inner life of my brother than shines out of 1 Since, this was printed I have heard that the prayer was not written by him, but only adapted for the use of the boys from a collection of some Church Society. 178 MEMOIR OF A BROTHER [ch. xi. this short simple prayer, written for village hoys, and re- peated with them week hy week. !N'or is there any other picture of him that I would rather leave on your minds than this. When I think of the help and strength which he has been to me and many more, the noble lines on All Saints' Day, of the poet I have already quoted in this memoir, seem to be haunting me, and with them I will end. " Such lived not in the past alone. But thread to-day the unheeding street, And stairs to sin and sorrow known Sing to the welcome of their feet. " The den they enter glows a shrine. The grimy sash an oriel bums. Their eup of water warms like wine, Their speech is filled from heavenly urns. 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Estelle Russell. — By the Author of "The Private Life of Galileo." Crown 8vo. 6s. Full of bright pictures of French life. TJie English family, whose fortunes form the main drifiofthe story, reside mostly in France, tut there are also many English characters and scenes of great interest. It is certainly the work of a fresh, vigorous, and mcst interesting writer, with a dash of sarcastic humour which is refreshing and not too bitter. " We can send our readers to it with cofifJence." — Spectator. Evans. — BROTHER FABIAN'S MANUSCRIPT, AND OTHER POEMS. By Sebastian Evans. Fcap. Svo. doth. 6s. " In this volume we have full assurance that he has ' tic vision and the faculty divine.' . . . Clever and full of kindly humour'' — Globe. Fairy Book. — The Best Popular Fairy Stories. Selected and Rendered anew by the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." With Coloured Illustrations and Ornamental Borders by J. E. Rogers, Author of " Ridicula Rediviva." Crown Svo. cloth, extra gilt. 6s. (Golden Treasury Edition. iSmo. +r. 6d.) "A delightful selection, in a ddightful external form'' — Spect.itor. Here are reproduced in u. new and cJwrming dress many old favourites, as " IIop-o'-my-Thumb," "Cinderella," " Beauty and the Beast," " Jack the Giant-kUler," "Tom Thumb," " Rumpel- stUzclien," "Jack and the Bean-stalk," "Red Riding-Hood," " The Six Swans," and a great many others. "A took which will prove delightful to children all tlieyear round. " — Pall Mall Gazette. Fletcher THOUGHTS FROM A GIRL'S LIFE. By LucY Fletcher. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo. 4j. 6d. BELLES LETTRES. '^ Sweet and earnest verses, especially addressed to girls, by one loho can sympathise with them, andwho has endeavoured to give articulate utteraTue to the vague aspirations ajier a better life of pious endeavour, which accompany the unfolding consciousness of the inner life in girlhood. Tlie poems are all graceful ; they are marked throughout by an accent of reality; the thaugliis and emotions are genuine." — Athenaeum. Freeman (E. A., Hon. D.C.L.) — HISTORICAL ESSAYS. By Edward Freeman, M.A., Hon. D.C.L., late Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford. Second Edition. 8vo. \os. 6d, This volume contains twelve Essays sdected from the author's contri- butions to various Reviews. Xhe principle on which they were chosen was that of selecting papers which referred to comparatively modern times, or, at least, to the existing states and natunis of Europe. By a sort of accident a tatmber of the pieces chosen have thrown themselves into something like a continuous series bearing on the historical causes of the great events of 1870 — 71. Notes have been added whenever they seemed to be called for; and wJuneoer he could gain in accuracy of statement or in force or clearness of expression, the author has fredy changed, added to, or left out, what he originally wrote. To maiy/ of the Essays has been added a short note of the circumstances under which they were written. It is needless to say tJiat any product of Mr. Freematis pen is worthy of attentive perusal; and it is bditved that the contents of this volume wUl throw light on several subjects of great historical im- portance and the widest interest. The following is a list of the subjects: — I. ^' The Mythical and Romantic Elements in Early English History;" II. " The Continuity of English History;" III. "The Relations between the Crowns of England and Scot- land;" IV. "St. Thomas of Canterbury and his Biographers;" V. " The Reign of Edward the Third;" VI. " The Holy Roman Empire;" VII "The Franks and the Gauls;" VIII. "The Early Sieges of Paris;" IX. " Frederick the First, King of Italy ;" X. "The Emperor FrederUk th^ Second;" XI "Charles the Bold;" XII. "Presidential Government."— " All of them are well worth reading, and very agreeable to read. He never touches a question without adding to mcr comprehension of it, without leaving the impression of ati ample knowledge, a righteous purpose, a clear and power/ul understanding." — S.4.TURDAY Review. BELLES LETTRES. 13 Freeman (E. A., Hon. D.C.L.) — continued. A SECOND SERIES OF HISTORICAL ESSAYS. In the Press. Garnett. — IDYLLS AND EPIGRAMS. Chiefly from the Greek Anthology. By RICHARD Garnett. Fcap. 8vo. 2j. ()d. "A charming little look. For English readers, Mr. Garnett' s translations will open a new world of thought" — Westminster Review. Geikie. — SCENERY OF SCOTLAND, viewed in Connexion with its Physical Geology. By Archibald Geikie, F.R.S., Director of the Geological Survey of Scotland. With Illustrations and a New Geological Map. Crown 8vo. lor. (>d. '^Before long, we doubt not, it will be one of the travelling companions ef every cultivated tourist in Scotland." — Edinburgh Courant. '^Amusing, picturesque, and instructive." — Times, "There is probably no one who has so thoroughly mastered the geology of Scotland as Mr. Geikie." — Paxl Mall Gazette. Gladstone.— JUVENTUS MUNDI. The Gods and Men of the Heroic Age. By the Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P. Crown 8vo. cloth extra. With Map. lof. 6d, Second Edition. "This new work of Mr. Gladstone deals especially with the historic element in Homer, expounding that element and furnishing by its aid a full account of the Homeric men an^ tlie Homeric religion. It starts, after the introductory chapter, with a discussion of the several races then existing in Hellas, including the influence of the Phoenicians and Egyptians. It contains chapters "On the Olympian System, with its several Deities;" " On theEthicsand the Polity of the Heroic Age ;" "On the Geography of Hotner;" "On the Cha- racters of the Poems; " presenting, in fine, a view of primitive life and primitive society as found in the poems of Homer. To this New Edition various additions have been made. ' ' To read these brilliant details," says the Kt'KESxa'a, '^ is like standing on the Olympian threshold and gazing at the ineffable briglitness within. " According to the Westminster Review, "it would be difficult to point out a book that contains so viuch fulness of knowledge along with so much freshness of perception and clearness of presentation." 14 BELLES LETTRES. Guesses at Truth. — By Two Brothers. With Vignette Title, and Frontispiece. New Edition, with Memoir. Fcap. 8vG. 6s. Also see Golden Treasury Series. These " Guesses at Truth " are not intended to tell the reader wliat to think. They are rather meant to serve the purpose of a quarry in ivhichf if one is building up his opinions for himself, and only wants to be provided voith materials^ he 7nay meet with many things to suit him. To very many, since its publication, has this work proved a stimulus to earnest thought and noble action ; and thus, to no small extent, it is bdicved^ Jias it influeficed the general current of thinking during th£ last forty years. It is now no secret that the authors wei-e Augustus and Julius Charles Hare. " They — living as tfiey did in coiutant and free interchange of thought on questions of philosophy aiui literature and art ; delighting, each of them, in the epigrammatic terseness which is the charm oj the ' Pensies ' of Pascal, and the ' Carac&res ' of La Bruyire — agreed to utter themselves in this form, and the book appeared, anonymously, in two volumes, in 1827." Hamerton. — Works by Philip Gilbert Hamerton : — A PAINTER'S CAMP. Second Edition, revised. Extia fcap. 8vo. 6j. Book I. In England; Book II. In Scotland; Book IIL In France, This is the story of an ArtisCs encampments and adventures. The headings of a ftw c/uipters m.ay serve to convey a notion of the character of the book: A Walk on the Lancashire Moors; the Author his own Housekeeper and Cook ; Tents and Boats for the Highlands; The Author encamps on an uninhabited Island ; A Lake Voyage ; A Gipsy Journey to Glencoe ; Concerning Moon- light and Old Castles ; A little French City ; A Farm in the Autunois, Sfc, &'c. " These pages, written with infinite spirit and humour, bring into close rooms, back upon tired heads, the breezy airs of Lancashire moors and Highland lochs, with a freshness whieh no recent novelist has succeeded in preserving," — Noncon- formist. " His pages sparkle with many turns of expression, not a few well-told anecdotes, and many observations which are the fruit of attentive study and wise reflection on t/ie complicated phe- nonuna of human life, as well as of unconscious nature" — West- minster Review. BELLES LETTRES. 15 Hamerton — continued. ETCHING AND ETCHERS. A Treatise Critical and Practical. With Original Plates by Rembrakdt. Callot, Dttjardin, Paul Potter, &c Royal 8vo. Half morocco. 3ii. 6d. *' The work is one lohich deserves to he consulted by every intellU gent admirer of the fine arts, whether he is an etcher or not." — Guardian. " Jtis not often we get anything like tlie combined intellectual and mstJietic treat which is supplied us by Mr. Hamerton' s ably written and handsome volume. It is a work of which author, printer, and publisher may alike feel proud. It is a -jtork, too, of which none but a genuine artist could by possibility have been the author." — Saturday Review. Hervey. — DUKE ERNEST, a Tragedy; and othef Poems. Fcap. 8vo. 6j. "Concavedin pure taste and true historic feeling, and presented with much dramatic force. . . , . Thoroughly original." — BRITISH Quarterly. Higginson. — MALBONE: An Oldport Romance. By T. W. HiGGiNSON. Fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. This is a story of American life, so told as to be interesting and instructive to all English readers. The Daily News says: " Who likes a quiet story, full of mature thought, of clear humorous surprises, of artistic studious design? ' Malbone^ is a rare work, possessing these characteristics, and replete, too, with honest literary effort." Hillside Rhymes. — Extra fcap. Svo. 5^. Home. — BLANCHE LISLE, and other Poems. By Cecil Home. Fcap. Svo. 4J. dd. Hood (Tom).— THE PLEASANT TALE OF PUSS AND ROBIN AND THEIR FRIENDS, KITTY AND BOB. Told in Pictm-es by L. Frolich, and in Rhymes by Tom Hood. Crown Svo. gilt. y. bd. l6 BELLES LETTRES. This is a pleasant little tale of wee Bob and his Sister, and tluir attempts to rescue poor Robin from the cruel claws of Pussy. It will be intelligible and interesting to the meanest capacity, and is illustrated by thirteen graphic cuts drawn by Fr'olich. " The volujne is prettily got up, and is sureio be a favourite ijt the nursery."' — Scotsman. ' ' I/err Frolich Jias outdone himself in his pictures of this dramatic chase." — Morning Post. J ebb. — THE CHARACTERS OF THEOPHRASTUS. An English Translation from a Revised Text. With Introduction and Notes. By R. C. Jebb, M.A., Fellow 'and Assistant Tutor of Trinity College, Cambridge, and Public Orator of the University. Extra fcap. 8v6. 6s. 6d. The first object of this book is to make these lively picttires of old Greek manners ietter known to English readers. But as the Editor and TranslcUor has been at considerable pains to procure a reliable text, and has recorded the results of his critical labours in a lengthy Introduction, in Notes and Appendices, it is hoped that the work will prove of value even to tlie scholar. " We must not omit to give due honour to Mr. Jebb's tratislation, which is as good as trans- lation can be. , . . Not less commejtdable are the execution of the Notes and the critical handling of the text." — Spectator. "Mr. Jebb's little volume is more easily taken up than laid dawn." — Guardian. Keary (A.) — Works by Miss A. Keary:— JANET'S HOME. Cheap Edition. Globe 8vo. is. 6d. "Never did a more charming family appear upon the canvas ; attd most skilfully and felicitously have their characters been portrayed. Each individual of the fireside is a finished portrait, distinct and lifelike. . . . The future before her as a novelist is that of becoming the Miss Austin of her generation." — SCN. CLEMENCY FRANKLYN. Globe 8vo. Q.s. 6d. "Eull of wisdom and goodness, simple, truthful, and artistic. . . It is capital as a stay; better still in its pure tone and wholesome influence. " — Globe. OLDBURY. Three vols. Cromi Svo. 31J. 6J. "This is a very powerfully written slory." — GLOBE. "This is a BELLES LETTRES. 17 Jest Book. By Mark Lemon. — See Golden Treasury Series. Keary (A.) — Works by Miss A. Keary :— JANET'S HOME. Cheap Edition. Globe 8vo. -as. dd. '' Xcver did a more cliarming faniUy appear upon tlie canvas ; and must skilfully and felicitously have their cliaractcrs been portrayed. Each individual of the fireside is a finished portrait, distinct and lifelike. . . . The future before her as a novelist is that of becoming the Miss Austin of her generation. " — SuN . CLEMENCY FRANKLYN. Globe 8vo. 2s. dd. " Full of wisdom and goodness, simple, truthful, and artistic. . . It is capital as a story; better still in its pure tone and uiholcsome influence. " — Globe. OLDBURY. Three vols. Crown 8vo. 31J. 6d. " XAis is a vay powerfully written story." — Globe. "This is a really excellent kot«/."— ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS. " The sketches of society in Oldbury are excellent. The pictures of child life are full of ira^/i."— Westminster Review. Keary (A. and E.)— Works by A. and E. Keary:— THE LITTLE WANDERLIN, and other Fairy Tales. iSmo. " The tales are fanciful ana well written, and they are sure to win favour amongst little reoi/wx"— AtheN/EUM. THE HEROES OF ASGARD. Tales from Scandinavian My- thology. New and Revised Edition, illustrated by Huakd. Extra, fcap. 8vo. 4-r. (>d. " Told in a light and amusing style, which, in its drolleiy and' auaintmss, reminds us of our old favourite Grimm"— ll^^L'^. Kingsley. Works by the Rev. Charles Kingsley, ^r.A., Rector of Eversley, and Canon of Chester :— Mr. Canon Kingslefs ncirls, most will admit, have not only mandcd for themselves a fci-crMst face in literature, as art. rom- 'ixtit E 1 8 BELLES LETTRES. Kingsley (C.) — continued. productions of a high class, but have exercised upon tlu age an incakulable influence in the direction of the highest Christian manliness. Mr. Kingsley has done more perhaps than almost any otJier writer of fiction to fashion the generation into whose Juinds the destinies of the world are now being committed. His works will therefore be read by all who isnsh to have their hearts cheered and their souls stirred to noble endeavour ; they must be read by all who wish to know the influences which moulded the men of this century. "WESTWARD HO!" or, The Voyages and Adventures of Sir Amyas Leigh. Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. No other work conveys a more vivid idea of the surging, adventurous, nobly inquisitive spirit of the generations which immediately fol- lowed the Reformjition in England. The daring deeds of the Elizabethan heroes are told with a freshness, an enthusiasm, atid a truthfulness that can belong only to one who wishes he had been their leader. His descriptions of the luxuriant scenery of the then newfound Western land are acknowledged to be unmatched. Fraser's Magazine calls it " almost the best historical novel of the day." TWO YEARS AGO. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. ds. " Mr, Kingsley has provided us all along with such pleasant diversions — such rich and brightly tinted glimpses of natural history, such suggestive remarks on fiui7ikind, society, and all sorts of topics, that amidst the pleasure of the way, the circuit to be made will be by most forgotten.^' — Guardian. HYPATIA ; or. New Foes mth an Old Face. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6r. The work is from beginning to etui a series of Jaseinating pictures of strange phases oj that strange primitive society ; and no finer portrait has yet been given of the noble-minded lady who was faithful to martyrdom in her attachment to the classical creeds. No work affords a clearer notion of the many interesting prrobUms which agitated the minds of mat in tlwse days, and which, in various phases, are again coming up for discussion at tlie present time. BELLES LETTRES. 19 Kingsley (C.) — contimud. HEREWARD THE WAKE— LAST OF THE ENGLISH. Crown 8vo. 6j. Mr. Kingsley here teds the story of the final confliet of the two races, Saxons and Normans, as if lie himself had borne a fart in it. While as a 'Jiork of fiction "Jfereward" cannot fail to delight all readers, no better supplement to the dry history of the time could be put into the hands of the young, containing as it does so ■vivid a picture of tie social and political life of the period. YEAST: A Problem. Fifth Edition. Crown «vo. <,s. In this production the auther shows, in an interesting dramatic form, the state of fermentation in which the minds of many earnest men are with regard to some of the most important religious and social problems of the day. , ALTON LOCKE. New Edition. With a New Prefece. Crown 8vo. 4f. bd. This nffvel, Tohzch shows forth tht evils arisingfrom modern ^^ caste^^ has done much to remove the unnatural barriers which existed between the various classes of society, and to establish a sympathy to some extent between the higher and lower grades of tlie social sccUe. Tlumgh written with a purpose, it is full of character and interest; the author shows, to quote the SPECTATOR, "what it is that con- stitutes the true Christian, Godfearing, man-living gentleman. " AT LAST : A CHRIST5IAS IN THE WEST INDIES. With numerous Illustrations. Second and Cheaper Edition. Crown 8vo. los. 6d. Mr. Kingsle^s dream of forty years was at last fulfilled, when he started on a Christmas expedition to the West Indies, for the purpose of becoming personally acquainted with the scenes which he has so vividly described in " Westward ho /" "In this book Mr. Kingsley revels in the gorgeous wealth of West Indian vegeta- tion, bringing before us one marvel afier another, alternately sating and piquing our curiosity. Whether we climb the cliffs with him, or peer over into narrow days which are being hollowed out by the trade-surf, or wander through impenetrable forests, where the tops of the trees form a green cloud overhead, or gaze down glens which B 2 BELLES LETTRES. Kingsley (C.) — continued. are watered by the clearest brooks, running through masses of palm and banana and all the rich variety of foliage, we are equally delighted and amazed." — AtheNjEUJiI. THE WATER BABIES. A Faiiy Tale for a Land Baby. New Edition, -with addifional Illustrations by Sir NoEL Paton, R.S.A., and P. Skelton. Crown 8vo. cloth extra gilt. y. " In fun, in humour, and in innocent imaginaiian, as a cJiUd's book we do not know its 'equal." — London Review. "Mr. Kingsley must heme the credit of revealing totes a new order of life. . . . There is in the ' Water Babies' an abuiidaitce of viit, fun, good humour, geniality, elan, go." — ^TlMES. THE HEROES; or, Greek Fairy Tales for my Children. With Coloured Illustrations. New Edition. iSmo. 4^. 6d. " 'yVe do not think these heroic stories have ever been viore attrac- tively told. . . . There is a deep under-current of religious feeling traceable throughout its pages which is sure to influence young readers powerfully" — London Review. " Otic oftlie chUdreiCs books that will surely become a classic." — Nonconformist. PHAETHON; or. Loose Thought? for Loose Thinlcers. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. zj. " The dialogue of ' PhaetJion' has striMng beauties, and its sugges- tions may ituet half-way many a latent doubt, and, like a light breeze, lift from the soul clouds that are gathering heavily, and threatening to settle down in misty gloom on tlie summer of viany a fair and fromising young life." — Spectator. POEMS ; including Tlie Sainf s Tragedy, Andromeda, Songs, Ballads, eta Complete Collected Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6s. Canon Kingsle^s poetical works have gained for their author, independently of his other works, a high and enduring place in literature, and are much souglit after. The publishers have here collected the whole of them hi a moderately-priced and handy volume. The Spectator calls " Aiidromeda " " the finest piece of English hexameter verse that 1ms evei- been written. It is a vol^wewhich many readers zi'i/l be glad to possess.^' BELLES LETTRES. 21 Kingsley (H.) — Works by Hekry Kingsley : — TALES OF OLD TRAVEL. Re-narrated. With Eight full-page Illustrations by HUARD. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. doth, extra gilt. t)S. In this •volume Mr. Henry Kingsley re-narrates, at the same time preserving much of the guaintness of the original, some of the most fascinating tales of travel cmitained in the collections of Hakluyt and others. The Contents are: — Marco Polo ; The Shipwreck of Pelsart ; Tlie Wonderful Adventures of Andrew Battel ; TJie Wanderings of a Capuchin; Peter Carder; Tlie Preservation of the " Terra Nova f Spitsbergen; D'Ermenonvill^s Acclimatiza- tion Adventure; The Old Slave Trade; Miles Philips; The Sufferings of Robert Everard ; fohn Fox; Alvaro Nunez; The Foundation of an Empire. "We knew no better book for those ■w/w want knowledge or seek to refreshit. As for the' sensational,' nwst iwvels are tame compared ■with these narraHves."^K'm^- NjEUM. " Exactly the book to interest and to do good to intelligent and high-spirited boys." — Literary Ch0rchman. THE LOST CHILD. With Eight Illustrations by Frolich. Crown 4to. cloth gflt. 3J. dd. This is an interesting story of a. little boy, tJu son of an Australian shepherd aitd his "wife, "who lost himself in the bush, and 'who was, after much searching, found dead far up a mountain-side. It contains viany illustrations from the well-known pencil of Frolich. ** A pathetic story, and told so as to give children an interest in Australian ways and scenery." — Globe. "Very charmingly and very touchingly told." — Saturday Review. KnatchbuU-Hugessen. — Works by E. H. Knatchbull- Hugessen, M.P. : — Mr. KnatchbuU-Hugessen has won for himself a reputation as an inimitable teller of fairy-tales. " His powers," says the Times, "are of a very high order ; light and brilliant narrative flows from his pen, and is fed by an invention as graceful as it is inex- haustible." " Children reading his stories" the Scots Ji AN says, " or /tearing them read, will Jiave their minds refreshed and invi- gorated as much as their bodies would be by abundance of fresh air and exercise." BELLES LETTRES. Knatchbull-Hugessen— <:o«*'»»«'^- STORIES FOR MY CHILDREN, With lUustrations. Thiid Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5/. " The stories are charming, and full of life ana jun." — Standard. " Tlie author has an imagination as faiuiful as Grimm himself, while some of his stories are superior to anyUiing that Hans Chris- tian Andersen has written." — NONCONFORJIIST. CRACKERS FOR CHRISTMAS. More Stories. With Illustra- tions by JELLICOE and Elwes. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. 5^. '\A fascinating little volume, which will make him friends in every houseJioid in which there are childrat." — Daily News. MOONSHINE: Fairy Tales. With Illustrations by W. Brunton.' Fourth Edition. Ciown 8vo. cloth gilt, Sj. Here will ie found "an Ogre, a Dwarf, a Wizard, quantities of Elves and Fairies, and several animals who speak like mortal men and women. " There are twelve stories and nine irresistible illustrations. "A volume of fairy tales, written not only for ungroivn children, but for bigger, and if you are nearly worn out, or sick, or sorry, you will find it good reading. " — Graphic. ' ^The most charming volume of fairy tales which we have ever read. . . . We cannot quit this very pleasant book without a word of praise to its illus- trator. Mr. Brunton from first to last lias done admirably. " — Times. La Lyre Francaise.— 'See Golden Treasury Series. Latham.— SERTUM SHAKSPERIANUM, Subnexis aliquot aliunde excerptis floribus.. Latine reddidit Rev. H. Latham, M.A. Extra fcap. 8vo. 5j. Asides versions of Shakespeare, this volume contains, among otiier puces, Grays "Elegy," CampbelPs " Hohenlinden," Wolfe's "Burial of Sir John Moore" and selectiotis from Cowper and George Herberts Lemon.— THE LEGENDS OF NUMBER NIP. By Mark Lemon. With Illustrations by C. Keene. New Edition, Extri fcap. 8vo. 2s. 6d. BELLES LETTRES. 23 Life and Times of Conrad the Squirrel. A Story for Children. By the Au-ixir of "Wandering WiUie," "Eifie's Friends," &c. With a Frasispiece by R. Farren. Crown 8vo. It is sufficient to commeitd tUs story of a Squirrel to the attention ej readers, tliat it is by the (caihor of the beautiful stories of "Wan- dering Willie" and "EfSe's Friends.'" It is well calculated to make children take an inidligent aad tender interest in the lower animals. Little Estella, and other Fairy Tales for the Young. Royal i6mo. 3j. dd. " This is a fine story, aiui -se thank keasen for not bang too wise to enjoy it." — Daily News. Little Lucy's Wonderful Globe.— See Yonge, C. M. Lowell. — AMONG MY BOOKS. Sx Essays. Dryden— Witch- craft— Shakespeare once More— New England Two Centuries Ago — Lessing — Rousseau and ih-s Sentimentalists. Crown 8vo. "Js. dd. " We may safely say the volxme is one «/" -aiMch our chief complaint mast be that there is not mire of it. There are good sense and lively feeling forcibly and tersely expressed in ^jery page of his writing. " — Pall Mall G.AiEim Lyttelton. — Works by LoEB LVTTEXTON : — THE "COMUS" OF MILTON, rendered into Greek Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. S-^- THE "SAMSON AGONISTES" OF MILTON, rendered into Verse. Extra fcap. 8vo. 6f. td. "Classical in spirit, full ef force, and tme to the original." — Guardian. Macmillan'S Magazine.— PnbEshed Monthly. Price li. Volumes I. to XXV. are i30s- ready, "js. 6d. each. Macquoid.— PATTY. Bj Kathesine S. il.^cQUOiD. Two vols. Crown 8vo. 21s. 24 BELLES LETTRES. TJie Athex^um "congratulates Mrs. Macquoid on having vmde a great step situe the publication of her last novel," and says this "is a graceful and eminently readable story." 77te Gl-OBE considers it " ivell-written, amusing, and interesting, and has the merit of being out of the ordinary run of novels. " Malbone. — See Higginson. Marlitt (E.)— THE COUNTESS GISELA. Translated from the Germin of E. Marlitt. Crown 8vo. ys. 6d. "A very beautiful story of German country life." — LlTEllARY Churchman. Masson (Professor). — ^Works by David Masson, m.a., Professor of Rhetoric and English Literature in the University of Edinburgh. (See also Biographical and Philosophical Catalogues.) ESSAYS, BIOGRAPHICAL AND CRITICAL. Chiefly on the British Poets. 8vo. I2J. td. "Distinguished by a remarkable power of analysis, a clear state- ment of the actual facts on which speculation is based, and an appropriate beauty if language. These Essays should bepopidar with serious men." — AtheNjBUM. BRITISH NOVELISTS AND THEIR STYLES. Being a Critical Sketch of the History of British Prose Fiction. Crown 8vo. ys. 6d. " Valuable far its lucid analysis of fundamental principles, its breadth of view, and sustained animation of style." — Spectator. "Mr. Masson sets before us with a bewitching ease and clearness which juthing but a perfect mastery of his subject could have rendered possible, a large body of both dxp and sound discriminative criticism on all the moit memorable of our British novelists flis brilliant and instructive book." — JOHN BULL. Merivale.— KEATS' HYPERION, rendered into Latin Verse., By C. Merivale, B.D. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. 3^-. 6d. Milner.— THE LILY OF LUilLEY. By Edith Milnee. Crown Svo. Ts. (>d. BELLES LETTRES. 25 ** Xlie nffvel is a good one and decidedly worth the reading^ — Examiner. "A pretty, brightly-written story." — Literary Churchman. '^A tale possessing the deepest interest." — Court Journal. Mistral (F.) — MIRELLE, a Pastoral Epic of Provence. Trans- lated by H. Crichton. Extra fcap. 8vo. ts. " It would be hard to overpraise the sweetness and pleasing freshness of this charming epic" — Athen^um. " A good translation of a poem tliat deserves to he known by all students of literature and friends of old-world simplicity in story-telling." — Noncon- formist. Brown, M.P.— MR. PISISTRATUS BROWN, M.P., IN THE HIGHLANDS. Reprinted from the DaUy News, with Additions. Crown 8vo. 5^- TTiese papers appeared at intervals in the Daily News during the summer of 1871. Thqi narrate in light and jocular style t/ie adventures "by flood and field" of Mr. Brown, M.P. and his friend in their tour through the West Highlands, and will be found well adapted to while away a pleasant hour eitlier by the winter fireside or during a summer holiday. Mrs. Jerningham's Journal. A Poem purporting to be the Journal of a newly-married Lady. Second Edition. Fcap. Svo. 3J. bd. "It is nearly a perfect gem. tVe have had nothing so good for a long time, and those who neglect to read it are neglecting one of the jewels of contemporary /jif/ury."— Edinburgh Daily Re- view. ^' One quality in the piece, sufficient of itself to claim a moment's attention, is that it is unique — original, indeed, is not too strong a word — in the manner of its conception and executioti." — Pall Mall Gazette. Mitford (A. B.)— TALES OF OLD JAPAN. By A. B. Mitfori), Second Secretary to the British Legation, in Japan. With Illustrations drawn and cut on Wood by Japanese Artists. Two Vols. Crown Svo. 21J. The old Japanese civilization is fast disappearing, and will, in a feii) years, be completely extinct. It was important, therefore, to 26 BELLES LETTRES. preserz'e as far as possible trustaiorthy records ff a state of society ■mhich^ although venerable from its atitiquity, has for Europeans the charm of novdiy ; lunce the series of narratives and legends translated by Mr. Mitford, and in which the jfapanese are very judiciously left to tell their own tale. The two volumes comprise not only stories and episodes illustrative of Asiatic superstitions, but also three sertnons. The Preface, Appendices, and Notes explain a number of local peculiarities; the thirty-one woodcuts are the genuine work of a native artist, who, uticonsciously of course, has adopted t/ie process first introduced by the early German masters. ' ' Thej' will always be interesting as memorials of a most exceptional societ^' : while, regarded simply as tales, they are sparkling, sensa' tional, and dramatic, and the originality of their ideas and the quainttiess of their language give them a most captivating piquancy. T/ie illustrations are extremdy interesting, and for the curious in such matters have a special and particular voiue."^PALX. Mall Gazette. Morte d' Arthur. — See Globe Library. Myers (Ernest). — THE PURITANS. By Ernest Myers. Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth. 2s. 6d. " It is not too much to call it a really grand poem, stately and dig- nified, and showing not only a high poetic mind, but also great power over poetic expression." — ^Literary Churchman. Myers (F. W. H.) — POEMS. ByF. W. H. Myers. Con- taining "St. Paul," "St John," and others. Extra fcap. 8vo. 4f. dd. "It is rare to find a writer who combines to such an extent the faculty of communicating feelings with the faculty of euphonious expres' sion." — Spectator. "' St. Paul ' stands without a rival as the noblest religious poem which has been written in an age which beyond any other has been prolific in this class of poetry. The sub- limest conceptions are 'expressed in language which, for richness, taste, and purity, we have never seen excelled" — JOHN BULI.. Nine Years Old.— By the Author of "SL Okve's," "When I was a Little Girl," &c. Illustrated by Frolich. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. cloth gilt. 4f. 6./. BELLES LETTRES. 27 It is believed that this story, by t/ie favourably known author of. " St. Olavis" mill be found both highly interesting and instructive to the young. The volume contains eight graphic illustrations by Mr. L. Frolich. Tfie EXAMINER says: "Whether the readers are nine years old, or twice, or seven times as old, they must enjoy this pretty volume." Noel. — BEATRICE, AND OTHER POEMS. By the Hon. RoDEN Noel. Fcap. 8vo. 6j. "It is impossible to read the poem through without being powerfully jitoved. There are passages in it which for intensity and tender- ness, clear and vivid vision,, spontaneous and delicate sympathy,- may be compared with the best efforts of our best living writers." — Spectator. "Itis long since we have seen a volume of poems which has seemed to us so full of the real stuff of which we are made, and uttering so freely the deepest -wants of this complicated age." — British Quarterly. Norton. — Works by the Hon, Mrs. Norton : — . THE LADY OF LA GARAYE. With Vignette and Frontispiece. New Edition. Fcap. 8vo. 4J. 6d, "A poem entirely unaffected, perfectly original, so true and yet so fanciful, so strong and yet so wotnanly, with painting so exquisite, a pure portraiture of the highest affections and the deeepest sorrows, and instilling a lesson true, simple, and sublime." — DUBLIN University Magazine. " Full of thought well expressed, and may be classed among her best efforts." — Times. OLD SIR DOUGLAS. Cheap Edition. Globe 8vo. zj. td. " This varied and lively novel — this clever novel so full of character, and of fine incidental remark." — SCOTSMAN. "One of the pleasantest and IiecUtliiest stories of modern fiction. " — Globe. Oliphant. — Works by Mrs. Oliphant : — AGNES HOPETOUN'S SCHOOLS AND HOLIDAYS. New Edition with Illustrations. Royal i6mo. gilt leaves. 4J. ()d. ' ' There are few books of late years more fitted to touch the heart, piurifv the feeling, and quicken and sustain right principles." — Nonconformist. "A more gracefully written slory it is impos- sible to desire."— Okyls News. 28 BELLES LETTRES. Oliphant — continued. A SON OF THE SOIL. New Edition. Globe Svo. 2s. dd. " Jt is a very different wori from the ordinary run of novels. The whole life of a via?i is portrayed in it, worked otit imth subtlety and insight." — Athenaeum. " With entire freedom from any sensational plot, tliere is enough of incident to give keen interest to the narrative, and make us feel as we read it that we have been sfiettditig a few hours with frietids who will 7nake our own lives better by their own noble purposes and holy living."- — British Quarterly Review. Our Year. A Child's Book, in Prose and Verse. By the Author of "John Halifax, Gentleman." Illustrated by Clarence BoBELL. Royal i6mo. y. dd. "Itis just the book we could wish to see in the hatuls of every child" — English Churchman. Olrig Grange. Edited by Hermann Kunst, Philol. Professor. Extra fcap. Svo. i>s. 6d. This is a poem in six parts, each the utterance of a distinct person. It is tlie story of a young Scotchman of noble aims desigtiedfor the ministry, but who " rent the Creed trying to fit it on," wlio goes to London to seek fame and fortune in literature, and who returns de- feated to his old Iwiiu in the north to die. The North British Daily Mail, in reviewing the work, speaks of it as affording '^ abounding evidence of genial and generative faculty working in self- decreed modes. A masterly and original power of impression, pour- ' ing itself forth in clear, szveet, strong rhythm. . . . Easy to cull, remarkable instances of thrilling fervour, of glowing delicacy, of scathing and trenchant scorn, to point out the fine and firm discri- mination of character which prevails throughout, to dwell upon ilie ethical power aiul psychological truth which are exhibited, to jiote the skill ivith 'which the diverse parts of the poem are set in organic relation. . . . It is a fine poem, full of life, of music, and of clear vision." Oxford Spectator, the. — Reprinted. Extra fcap. Svo. Jr. (sd. These papers, after the manner of Addison's " Spectator," appeared in Oxford from Novembei- 1867 to December 1868, at intervals BELLES LETTRES. 29 varying from two days to a week. They attempt to sketch several features of Oxford life from an undergraduate s point of vieiu, and to give modern readings of books which undergraduates study. "T/iere is," the Saturday Review says, "all tluold fun, the old sense of social ease and brightness and freedom, the old medley of ivork and indolence, of jest aiid earnest, thai made Oxford life so picturesque. " Palgrave. — ^Works by Francis Turner Palgrave, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford : — ESSAYS ON ART. Extra fcap. 8vo. ds. Mulready — Dyce — Holman Hunt— Herbert — Poetry^ Prose, and Sen- sationalisminArt — Sculpture in England— The Albert Cross, df^. Most oe have seen." — Spectator. " These large bright pictures ivill attract children to really good and honest artistic work, and that ought not to be an indifferent consideration with parents who propose to edzicate their children^' — PallM ALL GAZETTE. MORES RIDICULI. Old Nursery Rhymes. - Illustrated in Colours, with Ornamental Cover. Crown 410. 6j. " These world-old rhymes have never had and need never jwish for a better pictorial setting than Mr. liogcrs has given them." — Times. " Nothing could be quainter -er niore absurdly comical than most of the pictures, which are all carefully executed anil bemtifullv coloured." — GLOBE. Rossetti. — Works by Christina Rossetfi :— GOBLIN MARKET, AND OTHER POEMS. With two Designs by D. G. Rossetti. Second Edition. Fcap. 8vo. <,s. "She handles her little pmi-vel with that rare poetic discrimination which neither exhausts it oj its simple wonders by pushing sym- bolism too far, nor keeps those wonders in the tnerely fabulous and capricious stage. In fact, she has produced a true children s poem, which is far more delightful to the manure than to childrctt. though it would be delightful to a//.""— Spectator. TTTE PRINCE'S PROGRESS, AND OTHER POEMS. With two Designs by D. G. Rossetti. Fcap. 8vo. i>s. " Miss Rossetti' s poems are of the Mud which recalls Shelley's difiii- tion of Poctiy as the record of the best and happiest motncnls of the best and happiest minds. . . . They are like the piping of a bird on the spray in the sunshine, or the quaint singing with which a child amuses itself when it forgets that anybody is listaiiug." — Saturday Review. Runaway (The). A Story for the Young. By the Aaitbor of " Mrs. Jemingham's Journal." With Illustrations by J. Lawson. Globe 8vo. gilt. 4s-. 6s. ' ' These are among the s7veetesi sat:red poems 'luc have read for a long time. With no profuse imagery, expressing a range of feeling and expression by no ineaJts uaccmmon, they are true and elei'ated, and tlieir pathos is profound and simple.'' — NONCONFORMIST. -Spring Songs. By a West Highlander. With a Vignette Illustration by Gourlay Steele. Fcap. Svo. i^. 6il. * ' Without a trace of affectation or seniimentalism, these jtiterances are perftctly simple and natural, profoundly human and pro- foundly true." — Daily News. Stephen (C. E.)— THE SERVICE OF THE POOR ; being an Inquiry into the Reasons for and against the Establishment of Religions Sisterhoods for Charitable Pnrposes. Bj' C-\roline S;milia Stephen. Crown 8vo. 6^. dd. Miss Stephen defines religious Sisfcrhoods as " associations, the organi- zation of which is based .upon the assumption that loorhs of charity are either acts of worship ir: thejjtseh'cs, or means to an end, that end being the spiritual iL'dfare of the objects or the performers of those works." Arguing from that point of vir,o, she devotes the first part of her volume to a brief history of rdigious associations, taking as specimens — I. The Deaconesses of the Prirnitive Chjn'ch ; II. the Beguines ; III. the Thv-d Order of S. Francis : IV. the Sisters of Charity of S. Vincent de Paul; V. the Deaconesses of Modern Germany. In the second part. Miss Stephen attempts to show what are the real wants met by Sisterhoods, to ■H'hat extent the same wants may be effectually met by the organization of corre- sponding institutions on « sec:ilar basis, and what are the reasons for endeavouring to do so. * 'It touches incidentally and 'with murk 7visdom and tenderness on so mciny of the relations of women, par- BELLES LETT RES. 37 ticularly of single women, wiih society, that it may be read with advantage by many who have never thought of entering a Sister- hood. " — S I'ECTATOR. Stephens (J. B.)— CONVICT ONCE. A Poem. ByJ. Brun- TON Stephens. Extra fcap. Svo. 3j. 6d. A tale of sin and sorrow, purporting to be the confession of JSIag- iialen Po7ver, a convict first, and then a teacher in one of the Aus- tralian Settlements ; the narrative is supposed to be written by Hyacinth, a pupil of Magdalen Power, and the victim of her jealousy. The metre of the poem is the same as that of Loni;- fellow's "Evangeline." "It is as far more interesting than ninety-nine novels out of a hundred, as it is superior to them in power, worth, and beauty. We should most strongly advise every- body to read ' Convict Once.^ " — WESTMINSTER REVIEW. Stray Leaves. ByC. E. M. Extra fcap. Svo. 3s. &l. Contents:— " His and Mine "— " Night and Day "— " One of Many," &c. This little volume consists of a number of poems, mostly of a genuinely devotiofial character. * ' Th^ are for tJie most part so exquisitely sweet and delicate as to be quite a marvel of composition. They are -worthy of beuig laid up in the recesses of the heart, and recalled to memory from time to time." — ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS. Streets and Lanes of a City : Being the Reminiscences of Amy Button. "With a Preface by the Bishop of Salis BURY. Second and Cheaper Edition. Globe Svo. is. dd. This little volume records, to use the words of the Bishop of Salts bury, "a portion of the experience, selected out of overfhwing materials, of two ladies, during several years of devoted -work as district parochial visitors in a large population in the north oj England." Every incident narrated is absolutely true, and only tlie names of the persons introduced have been (necessarily) changed. The "Reminiscences of Amy Dutton" serve to illustrate the line of argument adopted by Miss Stephen in her work on "the Service of the Poor," because they shozv that as in one aspect the lady visitor may be said to be a link between rich and poor, in another she helps to blend the "religious " life with the "secular," and in both does service of extreme value to the Church and Nation. " One of the most really striking books that has ever come before us. " — L i TER ar y Churchman. BELLES LETTRES. Symonds (J. A., M.D.)— MISCELLANIES, By John Addington Symonds, M.D. Selected and lidiied, with an Introductory Memoir, by his Son. Ss-o. 7^. (>d. The late Dr. Symonds, of Brislol, T,'as a man of siii.s"la''ly versatile a-mi eletrant as ivell as p07verft(l and scientific ititcUect, In order to make this selection from 111 s vtanyioorks generally i)iteresting, the editor has confined hiviself to works of pure literature, and to such scientific studies as had a general philosophical or social intei'es*. Among the general sutjjects are articles on the Principles oj Beautv, on Ktic^uledgc, and a Life of Dr. Pritchard ; amo/ig the Scientific Studies are papers on Sleep and Dreams, Apparitions, the Relations between Mind and Muscle, Habit, etc. ; there are sc7'cral ptipers on the Social and Political Aspects of Medicine ; and a fe:o Poems and Iranslations, selected from a great nuvihe}' of equa jnerit, have been insei'ted at the end, as specimens of the lighter literary recreations •which occupied the intervals of leisure in a long and laborious life. *' Air. Symonds has certainly done right in gathering together what his father left behind him." — Saturday Review. Thring. — SCHOOL SONGS. A Collection of Songs for Schools. With the Music arranged for four Voices. Edited by the Rev. E. Thring and H. Riccius. Folio. 7?. td. There is a tendency in schools to stereotype the forms of lije. Any genial solvent is valuable. Games do much ; but games do not penetrate to domestic life, and are much limited by age. Music supplies the want. The collection, includes the "Agnus Dei," Tennyson's " Light Brigade," Macaulay^s" Ivry," etc. among otlier pieces. Tom Brown's School Days. — By Kix Old Boy. Golden Treasury Edition, ^. 6d. People's Edition, 2s. With Sixty Illustrations, by A. Hughes and Sydney Hall, Square, cloth extra, gilt edges, los. 6d. With Seven Illustrations by the same Artists, Crown Svo. 6r. " We have read and re-read this book loilh unmingled pleasure. . . . We have carefully guarded ourselves against any tampering with our critical sagacity, and yet have been compelled again and again toexclaim. Bene! Optime!" — London Qu.a.rterly Review. "An exact picture of the bright side of a Rugby boy's expeiieiice. BELLES LETTRES. 3,9 told with a life, a spirit, and a fond minuteness of detail and recol- lection which is infinitely honourable to the author." — EuiNjiu rgu Review. " Tlie most famous boys book in t/ie langua^v.' — Daily News. Tom Brown at Oxford. — New Edition. Witli Illustrations Crown 8vo. ds. " In no other work that we can call to mind are the finer qualities of the English gentleman more happily portrayed" — Daily News. "A book of great porwer and ti-uth." — National Review. Trench. — Works by R. Chenevix Trench, D.D., Archbisliop of Dublin. (For other Works by this Author, see Theologicai, Historical, and Philosophical Catalogues.) POEMS. Collected and arranged anew. Fcap. 8vo. 7^. dd. ELEGIAC POEMS. Third Edition. Fcap. 8vo. is. 6d. CALDERON'S LIFE'S A DREAM: The Great Theatre of the World. With an Essay on his Life and Genius. F<»p. 8vo. 4^, 6d. HOUSEHOLD BOOK OF ENGLISH POETRY. Selected and arranged, with Notes, by Archbishop Trench. Second Edition. Extra fcap. 8vo. y. 6d. 77iis volume is called a " Household Book," by this imme implying tlict it is a book for cdl — tliat there is nothing in it to prevent it from being confidently placed in the hands of every member of the household. Specimens of all classes of poetry are given, including selections from living authors. T/ie editor has aimed to product a book "which Ju emiifrant, finding room for little not absolutely necessary, miglit yet find roo7JiJor in his trunk, and t/ie traveller in his knapsack, and that on some narrow shelves where there are few books this might be one." " The Archbishop has conferred in this delightful volume an important gift on the whole English- speaking population of the world." — Pall Mall Gazette. SACRED LATIN POETRY, Chiefly Lyrical. Selected and arranged for Use. By Archbishop Trench. Second Edition, Corrected and Improved. Fcap. 8vo. ^s. 40 BELLES LETT RES. *^ The aim of the present volume is to offer to members 0/ our JLiiglisk Church a collection of the best sacred Latin poetry, such as they shall be able entirely and heartily to accept and approie — a collection, that is, in ivhich they shall not he evermore liable to be offended, and to have the current of their sympathies checked, by cominj^ upon that which, however beautiful as poetry, out of higher respects they /nust reject and condemn — in ivhich, too, they shall not fear that snares are bein^ laid for them, to entangle them unawares in aum'iration for aught which is inconsistent with their faith and Jealty 10 their own spiritual mother" — Preface. JUSTIN MARTYR, AND OTHER POEMS. Fifth Edition, ffcajj. 8vo. ts. Trollope (Anthony). — SIR HARRY HOTSPUR OF HUMBLETHWAITE. By Anthony Trollope, Author of "Framley Parsonage," etc. Cheap Edition, plobe 8vo. 2s. 6d. The Times says: "In this novel we are glad to recogni:e a return .to what we must call Mr. Trollops s old form. The characters are drawn laith vigour and boldness, and the Iwk may do good to many readers of both sexes." 77«^ Athen^um ?v/«ar/tr.- "-No recuier who- begins to read this book is likely to lay it drjm until the last page is turned. This brilliant novel appears to us decidedly tiiare successful than any other of Mr. Trollop/ s shorter stories." Turner. — Works by the Rev. Charles Tennyson Turner : — SONNETS. Dedicated to his Brother, the Poet Laureate. Fcap. 8vo. y^s. f>d. " Thi; Sonnets are dedicated to Mr. Tennyson by his brother, aiui have, independently of their merits, an interest of association. Thev both love to wHte in simple expressive Saxon; both Lrie to toiich their imagery in epithets rather than in formal similes ; both have ,4. delicate perceptioii of rhythmical movement, and thus Mr. Turner has occasional lines which, for phrase ccnd nuisic, might be ascribed to his brother. . . He knows the haunts of the wild rose, the s/iady nooks where light quivers through the leaves, the ruralities, in short, of tlie land of imdgiiiation." —Anat.iiMViA. SJfALL TABLEAUX. Fcap. Svo. 4?. 6u'. " These brief poems have not only a peculiar kind of interest for the student of English poetry, but are intrinsically delightful, and BELLES LETTRES. 41 will reivard a careful and ft'equent pentsal. Full of ndivdi, piety, love, and knomUdgt of natural objects, and each expressing a single and generally a simple subject by means of minute and original pictorial toudus, these Soniuts have a place of their own.^' — Pall Mall Gazette. Vittoria Colonna.— LIFE AND POEMS. By Mrs. Henry RoscoE. Crown 8vo. 9J. The life of Vu.oria Colonna, the celebrated Marchesa di Pescara, has received but cursory 7wiice /rom any Eni^tish writer, though in every history of Italy har name is mentioned with great honour among tlie poets of the sixteenth century. " /// three hundred and fifty years," .-ays lier bwgraplier, Visconti, "there has been no other Italian ladv """ho can be compared to her." ," It is writteti with good taste, with quick and intelligent sympathy, occasiotially with u. real freshness aiui charm of style." — Pall Mall Gazette. Volunteer's Scrap Book. By the Author of "The Cam- bridge Scrap Book." Crown 410. "Js. 6d. " A genial attd clever caricaturist in whom we may often perceive through small details that he has as proper a sense of the graceful as of the ludicrous. The author might be and probably is a Volunteer himself, so kindly is the vdrth he makes of all the inci- dents and phrases 0/ the drill-ground." — EXAMINER. VS/andering Willie. By the Author of " Ef&e's Friends," and '■ John Hatherton." Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 6j. " This is an idyll of rare truth and beauty. . . . The story is simple and touching, the style of extraordinary delicacy, precision, and picturesqueness. . . A charming ^ift-book for young ladies not yet promoted to novels, and will amply repay those of tlieir elders who may give an hour to its perusal." — Daily News. "Webster. — Works by Augusta Webster: — ** If Airs. Webster only remains true to herself, she will assuredly take a higher rank as a poet than any woynan has yet done." — Westminster Review. 42 BELLES LETT RES. Webster. — continued. DRAMATIC STUDIES. Extra fcap. 8vo. Sj. "A volume as strongly marked by perfect taste as by poetic power." — ■ Nonconform ist. A WOMAN SOLD, AND OTHER POEMS. Crown 8vg. qs. dd. "Mrs. Webstei- has shou'ti. us that she is able to draw admirably from the life; that she can c-t'sa-ve with subtlety, and render her observatiojis -with delicacy ; that she can impersonate complex con- ceptions and venture into which few living writers can follo^v her^ — Guardian. PORTRAITS. Second Edition. Extra fcap. Svo. y. td. "Mrs. Webstej^s poems exhibit simplicity and tenderness . . her taste is perfect . . . Tliis simplicity is combined with a subtlety of thought, feelings a7id obsei-vati£*ii lohich demand that attention ivhich only real lovers of poeby are apt to besto-:B." — Westminster Review. PROMETHEUS BOUND OF .^SCHYLUS. Literally tran.slated into English Verse. Extra fcap. Svo. 3^. 6d. " Closeness and simplicity combined •with literary skill." — Athf- NjT:um. ** Mrs. Webster^ s ^Dramatic Studies'* and * Translation of Prometheus ' have won for her an honourable place among our female poets. She writes -with rcnmrkable vigour and dramatic realization, and bids fair to be the most successful claimant of Mrs. Browning's mantle." — BRITISH Quarterly Review. MEDEA OF EURIPIDES. Literally translated into English Verse. Extra fcap. Svo. y. dd. " Mrs. Webster's translation surpasses our utmost expectations. It is n photogiafh of the original -,fiihout any of that harshness ■which so often accomfmiies a photography — Westmin.STER R.EVIEW. THE AUSPICIOUS DAY. A Dram.ntic Poem. Extra fcap. Svo. 5-^' Westminster Plays. Liis;;> .Mtevi Westmonasterien.ses, Sire Prologi et Epilogi ad Fabulas in S'' Petri Collcgio : actns qui Ex- stabant collecti et jnsta quoad Itcuit anromm serie ordinati, quibus BELLES LETTRES. 43 accedit Declamatiomim quae vocantur et Epigrammatum Delectus. CurantibusJ. Mure, A.M., H. Bull, A.M., C. B. Scott, B.D. Svo. 12s. 6d. Idem. — Pars Secunda, 1S20 — 1S64. Quibus accedit Epigrammatum Delectus. Svo. 1 5J. V/hea I was a Little Girl. STORIES FOR CHILDREN. By the Author of "St. Olave's." Fomth Edition. Extra fcap. Sva 4J. 6i/. With Eight llluslrations by L. Frolich. "At the head, and a long way ahead, of all hooks for girls, we place ' When /was a Little Girl.' "—Times. "// is one of the choicest morsels of child-biography ivhich'ive have met with." — Nonconformist. Wollaston. — LYRA DEVONIENSIS. ByT. V. Wollaston, M.A. Fcap. Svo. 3J. 6rf. "It is the work of a man of refined taste, of deep religious sentiment, a true artist, and a good Christian." — Churci-I Times. Woolner.— MY BEAUTIFUL LADY. By Thomas Woolner. With 0. Vignette by Arthur Hughes. Third Edition. Fcap. Svo. 5j. " It is clearly the product of no idle hoiir, but a highly-conceived and faithfully-executed task, self-imposed, and prompted by that inward yearning to utter great thoughts, and a wealth of passionate feeling, ■which is poetic genius. No man can read this poem without being struck by the fitness and finish of the workmanship, so to speak, as well as by the chastened and unpretending loftiness of thought which pervades the whole." — Globe. Words from the Poets. Selected by the Editor of " Rays of Sunlight" With a Vignette and Frontispiece. i8mo. limp., is. " The selection aims at popularity, and deserves it." — Guardian. \A^yatt (Sir M. Digby).— FINE ART .- a. Sketch of its History, Theor)', Practice, and application to Industry. A Course of Lectures delivered before the University of Cambridge. By Sir M. DiGBY Wyatt, M. a. Slade Professor of Fine Art. Svo. lOJ. dd. 44 BELLES LETTRES. " An excellent handbook for the student of art." — GRAPHIC. " The book abo2iiids in valuable matter, 'and will t/ierefore be read with pleasure and profit by lovers of ait." — Daily News. Yonge (C. M.) — Works by Charlotte M. Yonge. (See aUo Catalogue of Works in History, and Educational Catalogue.) THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE. Nineteenth Edition. With Illus- trations. Crown 8vo. ds. HEARTSEASE. ;j'\velfth Edition. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6j. THE DAISY CHAIN. Eleventh Edition. With Illustrations. Crown 8vo. 6j. THE TRIAL: MORE LINKS OF THE DAISY CHAIN. Sixth Edition. With lUustiations. Crown Svo. 6j. DYNEVOR TERRACE. Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. f,s. HOPES AND FEARS. Fourth Edition. Crown 8vo. ds. THE YOUNG STEPMOTHER. Third Edition. Crown 8vo. (>s. CLEVER WOMAN OF THE FAMILY. Third Edition. Crown Svo. bs. THE DOVE IN THE EAGLE'S NEST. Second Edition. Crown Svo. fss. " We think the authoress of ' Tlu Heir of Redely ffe' lias surpassed her previous efforts in this illuminated chronicle of the olden time." — British Quarterly. THE CAGED LION. Illustrated. Second Edition. Crown Svo. ts. " Prettily atui tenderly written, and vjill with young people especially be a great favourite."— -Ti,WL\ News. " Everybody should read this." — Literary Churchman. THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS; OR, THE WHITE AND BLACK RIBAUMONT. Crown 8vo. (,s. New Edition. BELLES LETTRES. 45 Yonge (C. M.) — continued. ^'Miss Yonge has brought a lofty aim as well as high art to the con- struction of a story which may claim a place among the best efforts in historical romance." — MORNING Post. " The plot, in truth, is of the veiy first order 0/ merit." — SPECTATOR. " We have seldom read a more charming story." — GuAKDIAN. THE PRINCE AND THE PAGE. A Tale of the Last Crusade. Illustrated. iSmo. y. 6d. " A tale which, we are sure, will give pleasure to tnany othei-s besides the young people for whom it is specially intended. . . . This extremely prettily-told story does not require the guarantee afforded by the na??te of the author of ' The Heir of Redclyffe' on the title- page to ensure its becoming a universal favourite." — Dublin Evening M.ml. THE LANXES OF LYNWOOD. New Edition, with Coloured Illustrations. l8mo. 4j. 6d. " The illustrations are -very spirited and rich in colour, and the story can hardly fail to charm the yo2tthful reader " — MANCHESTER Examiner. THE LITTLE DUKE : RICHARD THE FEARLESS. New Edition. Illustrated. l8mo. y. td. A STOREHOUSE OF STORIES. First and Second Series. Globe 8vo. 3j. dd. each. Contents of First Series :-^History of Philip Quarl! — Goody Twoshoes — The Governess — Jemima Placid — The Perambu- lations of a Mouse — The Village School — The Little Queen — Histoiy of Little Jack. " Miss Yonge has done great service to the infantry of this generation by pitting these eleven stories of sage simplicity within their reach." — ^^British Quarterly Revie^v. Cont ENTS OF Second Series : — Family Stories — Elements of Morality — A Puzzle for a Curious Girl — Blossoms of Morality. A BOOK OF GOLDEN DEEDS OF ALL TIMES AND ALL COUNTRIES. Gathered and Narrated Anew. New Edition, with Twenty Illustrations by Frolich. Crown Svo. cloth gilt. bs. (See also Golden Treasury Series). Cheap Edition. \s. 46 BELLES LETT RES. Yonge (C. M.) — continued. " We have seen no prettier gift-book for a longtime, and none which, both for Us cheapness and the spirit in which il has been compiled, is more deserving of praise." — 'ATHISNiCUM. LITTLE LUCY'S WONDERFUL GLOBE Pictured by Frolich, and narrated by Charlotte M. Yonge. Second Edition. Crown 410. cloth gilt. (>s. Miss Yong^s wonderful " Anack" oj instructive story-telling to children is well known. In this volume, in a niajiner ivhich cannot but prove interesting to all boys and girls, sJie manages to convey a woiidetful amount of information concerning most of the countries of the world ; in this she is considerably aided by the twenty-four tel Hag pictures of Mr. Frolich. • " * Lucy^s Wonderful Globe * is capital, and ivill give its youthful readers more idea of foreign countries and customs than any number of books of geography or travel^ — Graphic. CAMEOS FROM ENGI-ISH HISTORY. From RoLLO 10 Edward II. Extra fcap. 8vo. ^s. Second Edition, enlarged. A Second Series. THE WARS IN FRANCE. Extra fcap. Svo. 5J. The endeavour has not been to chronicle facts, but to put together a series of pictures of persons and events, so as to arrest the attention, and give some individuality and distinctness to the recollection, by gathering together details at t/i