Chapter III: Boyhood (2)

At length our dear Lea was better, and as I was still very fragile, I went with my mother and Anne Brooke, our cook, to Eastbourne--then a single row of little old-fashioned houses by the sea--where we inhabited, I should think, the very smallest and humblest lodging that ever was seen. I have often been reminded of it since in reading the account of Peggotty's cottage in "David Copperfield." It was a tiny house built of flints, amongst the boats, at the then primitive end of Eastbourne, towards the marshes, and its miniature rooms were filled with Indian curiosities, brought to the poor widow to whom it belonged by a sailor son. The Misses Thomas of Wratton came to see us here, and could hardly suppress their astonishment at finding us in such a place--and when the three tall smart ladies had once got into our room, no one was able to move, and all had to go out in the order in which they were nearest the door. But my mother always enjoyed exceedingly these primitive places, and would sit for hours on the beach with her Taylor's "Holy Living" or her "Christian Year," and had soon made many friends amongst the neighbouring cottagers, whose houses were quite as fine as her own, and who were certainly more cordial to the lady who had not minded settling down as one of themselves, than they would have been to a smart visitor in a carriage. The most remarkable of these people was an excellent old woman called Deborah Pattenden, who lived in the half of a boat turned upside down, and had had the most extraordinary adventures. My first literary work was her biography, which told how she had suffered the pains of drowning, burning (having been enveloped in flames while struck by lightning), and how she had lain for twenty-one days in a rigid trance (from "the plague," she described it) without food or sign of life, and was near being buried alive. We found a transition from our cottage life in frequent visits to Compton Place, where Mrs. Cavendish, mother of the 7th Duke of Devonshire, lived then, with her son Mr. Cavendish, afterwards Lord Richard. She was a charming old lady, who always wore white, and had very simple and very timid manners. But she was fond of my mother, who was quite adored by Lord Richard, by whom we were kept supplied with the most beautiful fruits and flowers of the Compton Gardens. He was very kind to me also, and would sometimes take me to his bookcases and tell me to choose any book I liked for my own. We seldom afterwards passed a summer without going for a few days to Compton Place as long as Mrs. Cavendish lived there. It was there that I made my first acquaintance with the existence of many simple luxuries to which, in our primitive life, we were quite unaccustomed, but which in great houses are considered almost as necessaries. The Cavendishes treated us as distant relations, in consequence of the marriage of my Grandmother's cousin, Georgiana Spencer, with the 5th Duke of Devonshire.

When I returned to Harnish I was still wretchedly ill, and the constant sickness under which I suffered, with the extreme and often unjust severity of Mr. Kilvert, made the next half year a very miserable one. In the three years and a half which I had spent at Harnish, I had been taught next to nothing--all our time having been frittered in learning Psalms by heart, and the Articles of the Church of England (I could say the whole thirty-nine straight off when eleven years old), &c. Our history was what Arrowsmith's Atlas used to describe Central Africa to be--"a barren country only productive of dates." I could scarcely construe even the easiest passages of Cæsar. Still less had I learned to play at any ordinary boys' games; for, as we had no playground, we had naturally never had a chance of any. I was glad of any change. It was delightful to leave Harnish for good at Christmas, 1846, and the prospect of Harrow was that of a voyage of adventure.

In January 1847 my mother took me to Harrow. Dr. Vaughan was then headmaster, and Mr. Simpkinson, who had been long a curate of Hurstmonceaux, and who had been consequently one of the most familiar figures of my childhood, was a master under him, and, with his handsome, good-humoured sister Louisa, kept the large house for boys beyond the church, which is still called "The Grove." It was a wonderfully new life upon which I entered; but though a public school was a very much rougher thing then than it is now, and though the fagging for little boys was almost ceaseless, it would not have been an unpleasant life if I had not been so dreadfully weak and sickly, which sometimes unfitted me for enduring the roughness to which I was subjected. As a general rule, however, I looked upon what was intended for bullying as an additional "adventure," which several of the big boys thought so comic, that they were usually friendly to me and ready to help me: one who especially stood my friend was a young giant--Twisleton, son of Lord Saye and Sele. One who went to Harrow at the same time with me was my connection Harry Adeane,[38] whose mother was Aunt Lucy's sister, Maude Stanley of Alderley. I liked Harry very much, but though he was in the same house, his room was so distant that we saw little of each other; besides, my intense ignorance gave me a very low place in the school, in the Lower Fourth Form. It was a great amusement to write to my mother all that occurred. In reading it, people might imagine my narration was intended for complaint, but it was nothing of the kind: indeed, had I wished to complain, I should have known my mother far too well to complain to _her_.

_To_ MY MOTHER.

"_Harrow, Jan. 29, 1847._--When I left you, I went to school and
came back to pupil room, and in the afternoon had a solitary walk
to the skating pond covered with boys.... In the evening two big
boys rushed up, and seizing Buller (another new boy) and me,
dragged us into a room where a number of boys were assembled. I was
led into the midst. Bob Smith[39] whispered to me to do as I was
bid and I should not be hurt. On the other side of the room were
cold chickens, cake, fruit, &c., and in a corner were a number of
boys holding open little Dirom's mouth, and pouring something
horrible stirred up with a tallow-candle down his throat. A great
boy came up to me and told me to sing or to drink some of this
dreadful mixture. I did sing--at least I made a noise--and the boys
were pleased because I made no fuss, and loaded me with oranges and
cakes.

"This morning being what is _called_ a whole holiday, I have had to
stay in three hours more than many of the others because of my
slowness in making Latin verses. This evening Abel Smith sent for
me to his room, and asked me if I was comfortable, and all sorts of
things."

"_Jan. 21._--What do you think happened last night? Before prayers
I was desired to go into the fifth form room, as they were having
some game there. A boy met me at the door, ushered me in, and told
me to make my salaam to the Emperor of Morocco, who was seated
cross-legged in the middle of a large counterpane, surrounded by
twenty or more boys as his serving-men. I was directed to sit down
by the Emperor, and in the same way. He made me sing, and then
jumped off the counterpane, as he said, to get me some cake.
Instantly all the boys seized the counterpane and tossed away. Up
to the ceiling I went and down again, but they had no mercy, and it
was up and down, head over heels, topsy-turvy, till some one called
out 'Satus'--and I was let out, very sick and giddy at first, but
soon all right again.... I am not much bullied except by Davenport,
who sleeps in my room."

"_Jan. 22._--To-day it has snowed so hard that there has been
nothing but snow-balling, and as I was coming out of school, hit
by a shower of snowballs, I tumbled the whole way down the two
flights of stairs headlong from the top to the bottom."

"_Jan. 23._--Yesterday I was in my room, delighted to be alone for
once, and very much interested in the book I was reading, when D.
came in and found the fire out, so I got a good licking. He makes
me his fag to go errands, and do all he bids me, and if I don't do
it, he beats me, but I don't mind much. However, I have got some
friends, for when I refused to do my week-day lessons on a Sunday,
and was being very much laughed at for it, some one came in and
said, 'No, Hare, you're quite right; never mind being laughed at.'
However I am rather lonely still with no one to speak to or care
about me. Sometimes I take refuge in Burroughs' study, but I cannot
do that often, or he would soon get tired of me. I think I shall
like Waldegrave,[40] a new boy who has come, but all the others
hate him. Blomfield[41] is a nice boy, but his room is very far
away. Indeed, our room is so secluded, that it would be a very
delightful place if D. did not live in it. In playtime I go here,
there, and everywhere, but with no one and doing nothing. Yet I
like Harrow very much, though I am much teased even in my form by
one big boy, who takes me for a drum, and hammers on my two sides
all lesson-time with doubled fists. However, Miss Simmy says, if
you could see my roses you would be satisfied."

"_Jan. 30._--There are certain fellows here who read my last letter
to you, and gave me a great lecture for mentioning boys' names; but
you must never repeat what I say: it could only get me into
trouble. The other night I did a desperate thing. I appealed to the
other boys in the house against D. Stapleton was moved by my story,
and Hankey and other boys listened. Then a boy called Sturt was
very much enraged at D., and threatened him greatly, and finally
D., after heaping all the abuse he could think of upon me, got so
frightened that he begged me to be friends with him. I cannot tell
you how I have suffered and do suffer from my chilblains, which
have become so dreadfully bad from going out so early and in all
weathers."

"_Feb. 2._--To-day, after half-past one Bill, I went down the town
with Buller and met two boys called Bocket and Lory. Lory and I,
having made acquaintance, went for a walk. This is only the second
walk I have had since I came to Harrow. I am perpetually 'Boy in
the House.'"

"_Feb. 10._--To-day at 5 minutes to 11, we were all told to go into
the Speech-room (do you remember it?), a large room with raised
benches all round and a platform in the middle and places for the
monitors. I sat nearly at the top of one of these long ranges. Then
Dr. Vaughan made a speech about snow-balling at the Railway Station
(a forbidden place), where the engine-drivers and conductors had
been snow-balled, and he said that the next time, if he could not
find out the names of the guilty individuals, the whole school
should be punished. To-day the snow-balling, or rather ice-balling
(for the balls are so hard you can hardly cut them with a knife),
has been terrific: some fellows almost have their arms broken with
them."

"_Feb. 12._--I am in the hospital with dreadful pains in my
stomach. The hospital is a large room, very quiet, with a window
looking out into the garden, and two beds in it. Burroughs is in
the other bed, laid up with a bad leg.... Yesterday, contrary to
rule, Dr. Vaughan called Bill, and then told all the school to stay
in their places, and said that he had found the keyhole of the
cupboard in which the rods were kept stopped up, and that if he did
not find out before one o'clock who did it, he would daily give the
whole school, from the sixth form downwards, a new pun, of the
severest kind.... There never was anything like the waste of bread
here, whole bushels are thrown about every day, but the bits are
given to the poor people.... I like Valletort[42] very much, and I
like Twisleton,[43] who is one of the biggest boys in this house."

"_Feb. 20._--To-day I went to the Harrisites' steeplechase. Nearly
all the school were there, pouring over hedges and ditches in a
general rush. The Harrisites were distinguished by their white or
striped pink and white jackets and Scotch caps, and all bore
flags."

"_Feb. 21._--I have been out jumping and hare-and-hounds, but we
have hard work now to escape from the slave-drivers for
racket-fagging. Sometimes we do, by one fellow sacrificing himself
and shutting up the others head downwards in the turn-up bedsteads,
where they are quite hidden; and sometimes I get the old woman at
the church to hide me in the little room over the porch till the
slave-drivers have passed."

"_March 1._--I have just come back from Sheen, where I have had a
very happy Exeat. Uncle Norwich gave me five shillings, and Uncle
Penrhyn ten."

MRS. STANLEY _to_

HER SISTER MRS. A. HARE.

"_Sheen, March 1._--I never saw Augustus look anything like so
well--and it is the look of health, ruddy and firm, and his face
rounder. The only thing is that he stoops, as if there were
weakness in the back, but perhaps it is partly shyness, for I
observed he did it more at first. He did look very shy the first
day--hung his head like a snowdrop, crouched out of sight, and was
with difficulty drawn out; but I do not think it is at all because
he is cowed, and he talked more yesterday. The Bishop was very much
pleased with him, and thought him much improved.... He came without
either greatcoat or handkerchief, but did not appear to want the
one, and had lost the other. He said most decidedly that he was
happy, far happier than at Mr. Kilvert's, happier than he expected
to be; and, though I felt all the time what an uncongenial element
it must be, he could not be in it under better circumstances."

_To_ MY MOTHER.

"_March 4._--As you are ill, I will tell you my adventure of
yesterday to amuse you. I went out with a party of friends to play
at hare-and-hounds. I was hare, and ran away over hedges and
ditches. At last, just as I jumped over a hedge, Macphail caught
me, and we sat down to take breath. Just then Hoare ran up
breathless and panting, and threw himself into the hedge crying
out, 'We are pursued by navvies.' The next minute, before I could
climb back over the hedge, I found myself clutched by the arm, and
turning round, saw that a great fellow had seized me, and that
another had got Macphail and another Hodgson Junior. They dragged
us a good way, and then stopped and demanded our money, or they
would have us down and one should suffer for all. Macphail and
Hoare were so frightened that they gave up all their money at once,
but I would not give up mine. At last they grew perfectly furious
and declared they _would_ have our money to buy beer. I then gave
them a shilling, but hid the half-sovereign I had in my pocket, and
after we had declared we would not give them any more, they went
away.

"To cut the story short, I got Hodgson Junior (for the others were
afraid) to go with me to the farmer on whose land the men were
working, and told what had happened. He went straight to the field
where the navvies were and made them give up all our money, turned
one out of his service, and threatened the other two, and we came
back to Harrow quite safe, very glad to have got off so well.

"What do you think! the fever has broken out in Vaughan's, and if
any other house catches it, we are to go--home!"

"_March 9._--All the school is in an uproar, for all Vaughan's
house went down yesterday. Two boys have the fever, and if any one
else catches it, we shall all go home. What fun it will be. The
fever came straight from Eton with some velocipedes. Everybody now
thinks everybody else has the fever. I am shunned by all because I
have a sore throat, and half-a-yard is left on each side of me in
form. Boys suck camphor in school. Endless are the reports.
'Pember's got the fever.'--'No, he hasn't.'--'Yes, he has, for it's
broke out in Harris's.'--'Then we shall all go home. Hurrah!'--'No,
it's all a gull!'"

* * * * *

"My adventure with the navvies has been a very good thing for me,
as some fellows say 'that little Hare has really got some pluck.'"

"_March 10._--Hurrah! Vaughan has caught the fever. The Vaughanites
are all gone. Valletort is gone. Waldegrave is gone. But the great
news is we all go home the day after to-morrow. Now if you don't
write the instant you get this you will delay my return home. So
pray, Mamma, do--do--do--do. I cannot write much, for the school is
so hurry-scurry. There will be no Trial--oh hip! hip! Oh pray do
write directly! I shall see you soon. Hurrah!"

(After Easter holidays), "_April 14._--When I got here, I found
Davenport was gone and Dirom come into our room. The bells rang all
night for the return of the school. We are busy at our Trial, which
we do with our masters in form. We did Ovid this morning, and I
knew much more about it than many other fellows."

"_Saturday._--To-day has been a whole holiday, as it always is at
the end of Trial. I have got off very well, and learnt eighty lines
more than I need have done, for we need only have learnt fifty
lines, and I knew more of other things than many others.

"To-day was 'Election Day'--commonly called Squash Day (oh, how
glad I am it is over), the day most dreaded of all others by the
little boys, when they get squashed black and blue, and almost
turned inside out. But you won't understand this, so I will tell
you. Platt, horrid Platt, stands at one side of Vaughan's desk in
school, and Hewlett at the other, and read the names. As they are
read, you go up and say who you vote for as cricket-keeper, and as
you come out, the party you vote against squash you, while your
party try to rescue you. Sometimes this lasts a whole hour (without
exaggeration it's no fun), but to-day at breakfast the joyful news
came that the fourth form was let off squash. It was such a
delight. The fifth form were determined that we should have
something though, for as we came out of Bill, they tried to knock
our hats to pieces, and ourselves to pieces too."

"_April 24._--The boys have all begun to wear strawhats and to buy
insect-nets, for many are very fond of collecting insects, and to
my delight I found, when I came up, that they did not at all
despise picking primroses and violets."

"_April 28._--The other day, as Sturt was staying out, I had to fag
in his place. I had to go to that horrid Platt at Ben's. At the
door of Ben's was P----. I asked him which was Platt's room, and he
took me upstairs and pushed me into a little dark closet, and when
I got out of that, into a room where a number of fellows were at
tea, and then to another. At last I came to some stairs where two
boys were sitting cross-legged before a door. They were the
tea-fags. I went in, and there were Platt and his brother, very
angry at my being late, but at last they let me go, or rather I was
kicked out of the house.

"To-day we went to hear a man read the 'Merchant of Venice' in
Speech-room. Such fun: I liked it so much."

"_May 1._--Yesterday I was in a predicament. Hewlett, the head of
our house, sent me with a note to Sporling, the head of the school,
in Vaughan's new house. I asked a boy which was Sporling's. He told
me that I should find him upstairs, so I went up stairs after
stairs, and at the top were two monitors, and as I looked
bewildered by the long passages, they told me which was Sporling's
room. When I came out with an answer to the note, they called after
me, and ordered me to give Hewlett their compliments, and tell him
not to be in too great a hurry to get into Sporling's shoes. You
must obey a monitor's orders, and if you don't you get a wapping;
but I was pretty sure to get a wapping anyway--from the monitors if
I did not deliver the message, and from Hewlett for its
impertinence. I asked a great many boys, and they all said I must
tell Hewlett directly. At last I did: he was in a great rage, but
said I might go.

"I have 7s. 6d. owed me, for as soon as the boys have any money
they are almost obliged to lend it; at least you never have any
peace till it is all gone. Some of the boys keep rabbits in the
wells of their studies, but to-night Simmy has forbidden this."

"_June._--On Sunday in the middle of the Commandments it was so hot
in chapel that Kindersley fell down in a fit. He was seized head
and foot and carried out, struggling terribly, by Smith and Vernon
and others: and the boys say that in his fit he seized hold of Mr.
Middlemist's (the Mathematical Master's) nose and gave it a very
hard tweak; but how far this is true I cannot tell. However, the
whole chapel rose up in great consternation, some thinking one
thing and some another, and some not knowing what to think, while
others perhaps thought as I did, that the roof was coming down. Dr.
Vaughan went on reading the prayers, and Kindersley shrieking, but
at last all was quiet. Soon, however, there was another row, for
Miles fainted, and he was carried out, and then several others
followed his example. That night was so hot that many of the boys
slept on the bare floor, and had no bedclothes on, but the next day
it rained and got quite cold, and last night we were glad of
counterpanes and blankets again."

"_The Bishop's Holiday._--The cricket-fagging, the dreadful,
horrible cricket-fagging comes upon me to-day. I am Boy in the
House on the extra whole holiday, and shall have cricket-fagging in
the evening at the end of a hard day's other fagging."

"_Saturday._--I must write about the awful storm of last night. I
had been very ill all day, and was made to take a powder in
marmalade--Ah-h--bah!--and went to sleep about twelve with the
window wide open because of the heat. At half-past two I awoke
sick, when to my astonishment, it being quite dark, flash after
flash of lightning illuminated the room and showed how the rain was
pouring in floods through the open window. The wind raged so that
we thought it would blow the house down. We heard the boys
downstairs screaming out and running about, and Simmy and Hewlett
trying to keep order. I never saw such a storm. All of a sudden, a
long loud clap of thunder shook the house, and hail like great
stones mingled with the rain came crashing in at the skylights.
Another flash of lightning illuminated the room, and continued
there (I suppose it must have struck something) in one broad flame
of light, bursting out like flames behind the window: I called out
'Fire, fire, the window's on fire.' This woke Buller, who had been
sleeping soundly all this time, and he rushed to the window and
forced it down with the lightning full in his eyes. Again all was
darkness, and then another flash showed what a state the room was
in--the books literally washed off the table, and Forster and Dirom
armed with foot-pans of water. Then I threw myself on my bed in
agonies of sickness: not a drop of water was to be had to drink: at
last Buller found a little dirty rain-water, and in an instant I
was dreadfully sick.... You cannot think what the heat was, or what
agonies of sickness I was in."[44]

"_June 13._--I have cricket-fagged. Maude, my secret helper in
everything, came and told me what to do. But one ball came and I
missed it, then another, and I heard every one say, 'Now did you
see that fool; he let a ball pass. Look. Won't he get wapped!' I
had more than thirty balls and missed all but one--yet the
catapulta was not used. I had not to throw up to any monitors;
Platt did not come down for some time, and I had the easiest place
on the cricket-field, so it will be much worse next time. Oh, how
glad I was when half-past eight came! and when I went to take my
jacket up, though I found it wringing wet with dew.

"The next day was Speech-day, but, with my usual misfortune, I was
Boy in the House. However I got off after one o'clock. All the boys
were obliged to wear straw-coloured or lavender kid-gloves and to
be dressed very smart.... When the people came out of Speeches, I
looked in vain for Aunt Kitty, but Aunt Kitty never came; so, when
we had cheered everybody of consequence, I went back with the
others to eat up the remains of Simmy's fine luncheon, and you may
guess how we revelled in jellies and fruit.

"The boys in our house now play at cricket in the corridor."

"_June._--I have been cricket-fagging all evening, and it was
dreadful; Platt was down, the catapulta was used, and there were
very few fags, so I had very hard fagging.... Platt bellowed at me
for my stupidity, and Platt's word is an oracle, and Platt's nod
strikes terror into all around."

"_June 16._--I have been for my Exeat to Brook Street.... At
breakfast the Archbishop of Dublin came in. He is a very funny old
man[45] and says such funny things. He gave us proverbs, and
everybody a piece of good advice."

"_July._--I have found a beautiful old house called Essingham
standing in a moat full of clear water. It is said to have been
inhabited once by Cardinal Wolsey.

"Last night I cricket-fagged, very hard work, and I made Platt very
angry; but when I told him my name, he quite changed, and said I
must practise and learn to throw up better, and when the other
monitors said I ought to be wapped, Platt (!!) said, 'I will take
compassion upon him, because when I first came to Harrow I could do
no better.'"

If it had not been for constant sickness, the summer holidays of 1847 would have been very happy ones. I found my dear old Grandmother Mrs. Oswald Leycester at Lime, which prevented our going to the Rectory, and it was the greatest happiness to read to her, to lead her about, and in every way to show my gratitude for past kindnesses at Stoke. When she left us, we went for the rest of the holidays to the Palace at Norwich, which was always enchanting to me--from the grand old library with its secret room behind the bookcase, to the little room down a staircase of its own, where the old nurse Mrs. Burgess lived--one of the thinnest and dearest old women ever seen--surrounded by relics of her former charges. Aunt Kitty was pleased with my improvement in drawing, and she and Kate Stanley encouraged me very much in the endless sketches I made of the old buildings in Norwich. "Honour the beginner, even if the follower does better," is a good old Arabic proverb which they thoroughly understood and practised. We spent the day with the Gurneys at Earlham, where I saw the heavenly-minded Mrs. Catherine Gurney ("Aunt Catherine") and also Mrs. Fry, in her long dark dress and close white cap, and we went to visit the Palgraves at Yarmouth in a wonderful old house which once belonged to Ireton the regicide. But a greater delight was a visit of several days which we paid to the Barings at Cromer Hall, driving the whole way with the Stanleys through Blickling and Aylsham, a journey which Arthur Stanley made most charming by the books which he read to us about the places we passed through. We lingered on the way with Miss Anna Gurney, a little old lady, who was paralysed at a very early age, yet had devoted her whole life to the good of those around her, and who, while never free from suffering herself, seemed utterly unconscious of her own trials in thinking of those of others. She lived in a beautiful little cottage at Northrepps, full of fossils and other treasures, close to the sea-coast.

Lord and Lady Shrewsbury[46] (the father and mother of the Princesses Doria and Borghese) came to meet my mother at Cromer Hall, perfectly full of the miraculous powers of "L'Estatica" and "L'Addolorata," which they had witnessed in Italy, and of which they gave most extraordinary accounts.

The kindness of "Uncle Norwich" caused me to love him as much as I dreaded Uncle Julius. In his dealings with his diocese I have heard that he was apt as a bishop to be tremendously impetuous; but my aunt knew how to calm him, and managed him admirably. He wonderfully wakened up clerical life in Norfolk. Well remembered is the sharpness with which he said to Dean Pellew, who objected to a cross being erected on the outside of the cathedral, "Never be ashamed of the cross, Mr. Dean, never be ashamed of the cross." It was his custom to pay surprise visits to all Norwich churches on Sunday afternoons. On one of these occasions, an old clergyman--fellow of his college for forty years--who had lately taken a small living in the town, was the preacher. High and dry was the discourse. Going into the vestry afterwards, "A very old-fashioned sermon, Mr. H.," said the Bishop. "A very good-fashioned sermon _I_ think, my lord," answered the vicar.

Bishop of Norwich.]

In those days a very primitive state of things prevailed in the Norwich churches. A clergyman, newly ordained, provided for by a title at St. George's, Colegate, was exercised by finding the large well-thumbed folio Prayer-book in the church marked with certain hieroglyphics. Amongst these O and OP frequently recurred. On the curate making inquiry of the clerk if there were any instructions he ought to follow during the service, he was informed that his active predecessor had established a choir and had reopened an organ closed from time immemorial. He had done this without any reference to the incumbent, who was so deaf that he could hear neither organ nor choir. Thus it happened that when they came to the "Venite," the incumbent read, as usual, the first verse. From long usage and habit he knew, to a second, the moment when the clerk would cease reading verse two, and then commenced reading the third verse, the clerk below him making frantic signs with his hand, which were quite incomprehensible: and it was not until the reading of the fifth verse that he understood he had better be silent altogether, and leave the field to the organ and choir, of whose performances he had not heard one single sound. He was determined not to be taken aback again, so, consulting with the clerk, he elicited when the performances of the organ would take place, and marked these for his guidance with a large O or OP--_organ plays_.

When the curate of whom I have spoken was first ordained, the incumbent gave him instructions as to what he was to do. Afterwards he found him visiting and over-zealous for the age, and said, "Now don't do too much in the parish, and _never_ give anything away." The curate expressed surprise, when he added, "If you _want_ to give, always come to me"--a suggestion the curate never failed to carry out. The rector had a very poor opinion of clergymen who wrote fresh sermons every week. "I've only got two sermons for every Sunday in the year, and I preach them all every year. I don't see why I should trouble myself to write any more, for when I preach them, I find I don't recollect them myself, so it's quite impossible the congregation should." As reminiscences of a type of clergyman very common at this time, but nearly extinct now, these notes seem worth recording.

Most of the Norfolk clergy were then old-fashioned conservatives of the first water. One day at a clerical dinner-party at the Palace, the Bishop, probably with the view of improving the taste of his guests, said, "When I first came into this diocese, I found the clergy would drink nothing but port. I used every means I could think of to alter a taste I could not myself enter into. All failed. At last I hit upon something which I thought was sure to be successful. I told my wine-merchant to send me the best of all other wines and the nastiest of port. But the clergy still insisted upon drinking the nasty port. So, when I felt my plan had failed, I wrote to my wine-merchant again, and told him to let them have it good."

The Bishop used to be greatly amused by an epitaph in Bergh Apton Church, which said that the man commemorated was "very free of his port," meaning that he was very hospitable (from _portcullis_), but the common people always thought it meant that he drank a great deal of port.

My dear old uncle was a capital bishop, and his clergy gradually learnt to think him so. But it was a sailor he had wished to be. He had been better fitted for that profession originally. Indeed, when he was a very little child he had such a passion for the sea, that once when he was missed from his cot, he was found asleep on the high shelf of a wardrobe, having climbed up there because he thought it was like a berth. Through life he was one of those men who never want presence of mind, and this often stood him in good stead. One Advent Sunday it was the Bishop's turn to preach in the cathedral, where the soldiers in the barracks usually attend the service: but it was terrible weather, and, with due regard to their pipe-clay, they were all absent that morning. The Bishop had prepared his sermon especially for the soldiers he expected to hear it, and he had no other. But he was quite equal to the occasion, for, after he had given out the text, he began--"Now _this_ is the sermon I should have preached if the soldiers had been here," and went on, without concerning himself further about their absence.

On another occasion he fell fast asleep in the cathedral during the sermon. At the end, when the choir broke out into the "Amen," he suddenly awoke. In that moment he could not collect himself to remember the words of the blessing, but, "Peace be with you" he exclaimed very solemnly, and it did quite well.

"Uncle Norwich," with his snow-white hair and black eyebrows, and his eager impetuous manner, was a somewhat startling figure to come upon suddenly. There was a private door in the wall in a remote corner of the palace-garden. A rather nervous clergyman who lived close by had passed it for years, and had never seen it open. His curiosity was greatly excited about it. One day when he was passing, he could not resist the impulse, and looking up and down the road, and seeing neither the Bishop nor any of the Stanley family about, though very shy, he stooped down to peep in at the keyhole. At that moment the Bishop's key entered the lock on the other side, the door flew open, and he found himself confronted by the Bishop in person!

It was soon after we left Norwich that Jenny Lind, then at the height of her fame, went to stay at the Palace, and great was the family enthusiasm about her. My aunt conceived an affection for her which was almost maternal. Arthur Stanley admired her exceedingly, in spite of his hatred of music, but amused her when he said, "I think you would be _most_ delightful if you had no voice."

At the end of August I returned to Harrow.

_To_ MY MOTHER.

"_Harrow, Sept. 10._--Alas! our form is under Mr. Oxenham. He has
the power of flogging, and does flog very often for the least
fault, for he really enjoys it. He is such an old man, very old,
very sharp, very indolent, very preachy. Sometimes he falls asleep
when we are in form, and the boys stick curl-papers through his
hair, and he never finds it out. He always calls his boys 'stupid
little fools,' without meaning anything particular by it. This
morning he said to me, 'Stuff and nonsense, stupid little fool;
don't make yourself a stupider little fool than you are.' He is
always called 'Billy.'"

"_Sept._--I have been racket-fagging all afternoon. It is such
dismal work. You have to stand in one corner of the square court
and throw all the balls that come that way to the 'feeders,' who
throw them to the players when they are wanted. The great amusement
of P., one of those I fag for, is to hit the racket-balls with all
his might at the fags, and he tried to cut me off a great many
times, but missed. At last P. said, 'I'll go and get another fag
instead of that young beast Hare,' and he went, but he never came
back, or the fag either.

"One day our room bought a pipkin, saucepan, and frying-pan to cook
things in, but Mrs. Collins (the matron) took away the frying-pan,
and the others were bagged. But we got another pipkin, and one
night as we were cooking some potatoes, in little slices as we have
them at home, they made such a smell that Mrs. Collins came up, and
told Simmy, and he was very angry, and would not let us have fires
for a week, and _said_ we should all have extra pupil-room; but
fortunately he forgot about that."

A. P. STANLEY _to_ A. J. C. H.

"_University College, Oxford, Oct. 16._--The Goblin presents his
compliments to the Ghost, and will give him a leaf of a bay-tree
from Delphi, a piece of marble from Athens, and a bit of tin from
the Cassiterides, on condition that the Ghost can tell him where
those places are, and where the Goblin shall send these treasures."

A. J. C. H. _to_ A. P. STANLEY.

"Delphi is the capital of Phocis and the seat of the oracle in
Greece. Athens is capital of Attica in Greece, and the Cassiterides
are islands in the Western Ocean. The Ghost presents his
compliments to the Goblin, thanks him very much, tells him where
the places are, and begs him to send the things from those places
to the usual haunt of the Ghost. The Ghost has communicated the
Goblin's stories of the beautiful Hesketh and Mrs. Fox to the boys
at night. The Ghost flitted up Harrow church-steeple yesterday, and
was locked up inside. Farewell, Goblin, from your most grateful
cousin--the Ghost."

This letter reminds me how I used to tell stories to the boys in our room after we had gone to bed: it was by them that I was first asked to "tell stories."

The winter of 1847-48 was one of those which were rendered quite miserable to me by the way in which I was driven to the Rectory, where Aunt Esther made me more wretched than ever, and by being scarcely ever permitted to remain in my own dear home. I fear that in later days I should have acted a part, and pretended to _like_ going to the Rectory, when it would instantly have been considered unnecessary, the one thought in the mind of all the family being that it was a duty to force me to do what I disliked; but at that time I was too ingenuous to indulge in even the most innocent kinds of deception. My own brothers, Francis and William, who were now at Eton, came to the Rectory for part of their holidays, but their upbringing and their characters had so little in common with my own, that we were never very intimate, though I rather liked them than otherwise. They hated the Rectory, and got away from it whenever they could.

Of all the miserable days in the year, Christmas was the worst. I regarded it with loathing unutterable. The presents of the quintessence of rubbish which I had to receive from my aunts with outward grace and gratitude. The finding all my usual avocations and interests cleared away. The having to sit for hours and hours pretending to be deeply interested in the six huge volumes of Foxe's "Book of Martyrs," one of which was always doled out for my mental sustenance. The being compelled--usually with agonising chilblains--to walk twice to church, eight miles through the snow or piercing marsh winds, and sit for hours in mute anguish of congelation, with one of Uncle Julius's interminable sermons in the afternoon, about which at that time I heartily agreed with a poor woman, Philadelphia Isted, who declared that they were "the biggest of nonsense." Then, far the worst of all, the Rectory and its sneerings and snubbings in the evening.

My mother took little or no notice of all this--her thoughts, her heart, were far away. To her Christmas was simply "the festival of the birth of Christ." Her whole spiritual being was absorbed in it: earth did not signify: she did not and could not understand why it was not always the same with her little boy.

I was not allowed to have any holidays this year, and was obliged to do lessons all morning with Mr. Venables, the curate.[47] At this I wonder now, as every day my health was growing worse. I was constantly sick, and grew so thin that I was almost a skeleton, which I really believe now to have been entirely caused by the way in which the miseries of my home life preyed upon my excessively sensitive nervous disposition. And, instead of my mind being braced, I was continually talked to about death and hell, and urged to meditate upon them. Towards the close of the holidays I was so ill that at last my mother was alarmed, and took me to a Mr. Bigg, who declared that I had distinct curvature of the spine, and put my poor little back into a terrible iron frame, into which my shoulders were fastened as into a vice. Of course, _with_ this, I ought never to have been sent back to Harrow, but this was not understood. Then, as hundreds of times afterwards, when I saw that my mother was really unhappy about me, I bore any amount of suffering without a word rather than add to her distress, and I see now that my letters are full of allusions to the ease with which I was bearing "my armour" at school, while my own recollection is one of intolerable anguish, stooping being almost impossible.

That I got on tolerably well at Harrow, even with my "armour" on, is a proof that I never was ill-treated there. I have often, however, with Lord Eustace Cecil (who was at Harrow with me), recalled since how terrible the bullying was in our time--of the constant cruelty at "Harris's," where the little boys were always made to come down and box in the evening for the delectation of the fifth form:--of how little boys were constantly sent in the evening to Famish's--half-way to the cricket-ground, to bring back porter under their greatcoats, certain to be flogged by the head-master if they were caught, and to be "wapped" by the sixth form boys if they did not go, and infinitely preferring the former:--of how, if the boys did not "keep up" at football, they were made to cut large thorn sticks out of the hedges, and flogged with them till the blood poured down outside their jerseys. Indeed, what with fagging and bullying, servility was as much inculcated at Harrow in those days as if it was likely to be a desirable acquirement in after life.

I may truly say that I never learnt anything useful at Harrow, and had little chance of learning anything. Hours and hours were wasted daily on useless Latin verses with sickening monotony. A boy's school education at this time, except in the highest forms, was hopelessly inane.

In some ways, however, this "quarter" at Harrow was much pleasanter than the preceding ones. I had a more established place in the school, and was on more friendly terms with all the boys in my own house; also, with my "armour," the hated racket-fagging was an impossibility. I had many scrambles about the country with Buller[48] in search of eggs and flowers, which we painted afterwards most carefully and perseveringly; and, assisted by Buller, I got up a sort of private theatricals on a very primitive scale, turning Grimm's fairy stories into little plays, which were exceedingly popular with the house, but strictly forbidden by the tutor, Mr. Simpkinson or "Simmy." Thus I was constantly in hot water about them. One day when we had got up a magnificent scene, in which I, as "Snowdrop," lay locked in a magic sleep in an imaginary cave, watched by dwarfs and fairies, Simmy came in and stood quietly amongst the spectators, and I was suddenly awakened from my trance by the _sauve qui peut_ which followed the discovery. Great punishments were the result. Yet, not long after, we could not resist a play on a grander scale--something about the "Fairy Tilburina" out of the "Man in the Moon," for which we learnt our parts and had regular dresses made. It was to take place in the fifth form room on the ground-floor between the two divisions of the house, and just as Tilburina (Buller) was descending one staircase in full bridal attire, followed by her bridesmaids, of whom I was one, Simmy himself suddenly appeared on the opposite staircase and caught us.

These enormities now made my monthly "reports," when they were sent home, anything but favourable; but I believe my mother was intensely diverted by them: I am sure that the Stanleys were. A worse crime, however, was our passion for cooking, in which we became exceedingly expert. Very soon after a tremendous punishment for having been caught for the second time frying potato chips, we formed the audacious project of cooking a hare! The hare was bought, and the dreadful inside was disposed of with much the same difficulty and secrecy, and in much the same manner, in which the Richmond murderess disposed of her victims; but we had never calculated how long the creature would take to roast even with a good fire, much more by our wretched embers: and long before it was accomplished, Mrs. Collins, the matron, was down upon us, and we and the hare were taken into ignominious custody.

Another great amusement was making sulphur casts and electrotypes, and we really made some very good ones.

My great love for anything of historic romance, however, rendered the Louis Philippe revolution the overwhelming interest of this quarter, and put everything else into the shade. In the preceding autumn the murder of the Duchesse de Praslin had occupied every one, and we boys used to lie on the floor for hours poring over the horrible map of the murder-room which appeared in the "Illustrated," in which all the pools of blood were indicated. But that was nothing to the enthusiastic interest over the sack of the Tuileries and the escape of the Royal Family: I have never known anything like it in after life.

I have often heard since much of the immoralities of a public-school life, but I can truly say that when I was there, I saw nothing of them. A very few boys, however, can change the whole character of a school, especially in a wrong direction. "A little worm-wood can pollute a hive of honey," was one of the wise sayings of Pius II. I do not think that my morals were a bit the worse for Harrow, but from what I have heard since of all that went on there even in my time, I can only conclude it was because--at that time certainly--"je n'avais pas le goût du peché," as I once read in a French novel.

At Easter, 1848, I left Harrow for the holidays, little imagining that I should never return there. I should have been very sorry had I known it. On the whole, the pleasurable "adventures" of a public-school life had always outweighed its disagreeables; though I was never in strong enough health for any real benefit or enjoyment.