Charles Dayrell: a modern Bacchanal

Front matter

CHARLES DAYRELL A MODERN BACCHANAL. ' @bo£ ! <£bo« !' 1 Bromius now his revel rout To the mountains leads about — ■ To the mountains leads along. . ' . . . And all the land shall madden with the dance.' Euripides' Flay of ' The Bacchanals! Translated by Dean Milman. BY HEN RY SOLLY, Author of ' Tlie Shepherd 's Dream,' ' lames/ Woods ord. Carpenter and Chartist,' ' Gonzagoji etc. LONDON : ELLIOT STOCK, 62, PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. [All Rights Reserved.] ®0 THE SHADE OF THE OXFORD BACCHANAL, THIS BRIEF RECORD Is JtnscrtbijlT, BY THOSE WHO HONOURED AND LOVED HIM.

Preface

. At the present time the subject of popular Recreation, and of Amusement generally, is occupying a large share of atten tion, and is coming into contact or collision with questions both of morality and of religion. Hence there must be many persons who desire, from a national point of view, to see these subjects dealt with in such ways as shall promote, not only the happiness of the people, but also the develop ment of their higher life. It seems, therefore, not altogether inappropriate to look back to a former age, and observe what one of the most remarkable nations of history then thought and did in regard both to Recreation and the religious Worship with which, in their case, it was so intimately blended; while the experiences of a man who nearly seventy years ago appears to have felt a deep interest in the matter, may also help to throw a few rays of light upon the solution of an important problem.

As, however, it is needful that not only social and religious reformers, but the people themselves should aim at promoting the national well-being, it is hoped that the scenes and experi ences narrated in this volume will be read with interest alike by learned and unlearned — by working men and women at home and in their clubs, as well as by the more abundantly

PREFACE.

. endowed leaders of social and religious improvement. A fine old Hampshire estate with the run of the New Forest, and three years' residence at Oriel College, Oxford, during the earlier part of this century — visits to the ' back-slums ' of our great metropolis, and to Alpine heights — afford many favourable conditions for the development of a ' Bacchana lian ' life, in a higher sense than is commonly attached to this word now, though not so widely different from that in which it would have been understood by Homer and Hesiod in the ' Youth of the World.' Then the struggles for liberty made by oppressed Italian Carbonari, and Greek Hetairists, about the same period, and by Hungarian patriots a little earlier, furnish fitting illustrations of the indestructible passion of the human heart for that freedom, and its aspirations for that happier nobler life, which a modern Bacchanal might righteously crave to possess, and ardently desire to secure for his toiling fellow-creatures.

But the darker shades in the Dionysiac legend, and the Bacchantic life, have not been omitted in Charles Dayrell's life, for the narrative is true to reality. Not always by the means, nor always in the measure, calculated to secure the end, do we strive to obtain the blessings which the Heavenly Father desires His children to possess. Any readers interested in the great Greek dramatist's play of ' The Bacchanals,' should consult the admirable edition, if they are not already acquainted with it, recently given to the world, with copious notes, illustrations, etc., by the Public Orator of the University at Cambridge, J. E. Sandy s, Esq,, M.A. «*{<

Chapter I

' Good gracious ! what is the child about !' exclaimed the nurse, as she jumped up from her seat on the lawn of Holm leigh Hall, and hurried to a large elm tree at its farther extremity, where a chubby-cheeked boy of three, remarkably like the antique statues of Cupid, was balancing himself on one of the lower boughs. A table with a chair upon it indicated pretty clearly how the adventurous young gentle man had attained his slightly dangerous elevation, from which he was jumping, when his proceedings were partially arrested, and his nurse's arms broke his fall. To pick him up, scold and comfort him, wipe away his tears, and examine him to see that no bones were broken, was soon satisfactorily ac complished. 'AVhy, Master Charlie, whatever were you about?' ' Me wanted to fy,' sobbed little Cupid. ' Me wanted to be an angey and fy.' ' But you've no wings, deary ; you can't be an angel and fly without wings.' ' Den oo muth get me wingth.

Oo thing about angeys fying to heaven. Me muth be an angey.' ' Ah, when you're an angel, you'll have wings in plenty, I dare say, and somebody else will sing to you then, I expect. But you're a long way off that, my boy, I hope — bless the child ! come, come, it'll be all right now, and I'll sing " In a Cottage near a Wood " — there's a dear.' So in the soothing strains of that ancient hymn to Con tentment, nurse found what she hoped was an effectual antidote to the ambitious desires which had led to her darling's tumble. He, however, never could comprehend how anyone could ever be contented in that cottage, though it was near a wood; but the lullaby quickly hushed him into temporary forgetfulness and peace. When Mrs. Dayrell came home from her afternoon ride, and heard of her only son's unconscious imitation of Rasselas, she was alternately so transported with delight at his soaring aspirations, and troubled with fears as to the dangers in which his imagination might involve him, that the nurse, not yet quite accustomed to the excitable tempera ment of her young mistress, had a vague idea confirmed that 'she would lose her wits some day, through taking of so much exercise.' Charlie Dayrell, it may be remarked, was extremely fortunate at that early period of his life in all his surround ings.

His nurse was a young woman of more refined disposition than is commonly met with, and was fond both of laughter and song. While his mother — ah, what a mother she was ! — much younger than her husband, being his second wife, light-hearted and loving, with a figure like one of the Graces, and a sweet, sunny face, framed in beautiful auburn hair — Mrs. Edward Dayrell was a charming specimen of the female line of English county families as they existed eighty or ninety years ago. It is just possible she was some times fonder of the company of her child than of that of her rather stately and silent husband ; and though there was plenty of love between them, she may have found more domestic happiness in playing with her boy, and as he <*rew older in teaching him to ride, row, and read, to revel in fairy tales and classic myths, or in dreaming about his future career, than in reading the Times to her husband, and listening to his speculations concerning the doings of Napoleon Bonaparte, or the rival claims of Pitt and Fox.

True, it seemed a pity that Charlie could not be both three and ten years old at the same time, since, although forward for his age, he was still unable to accompany her to the forest-parties, [or picnics, the garden-parties, balls, and amateur theatricals, which she was so frequently promoting, nor to ride by her side in dashing gallops over the open heaths of the New Forest, and occasionally after the hounds. In these latter expeditions she could rarely persuade her husband to accompany her, though he graciously consented to her vagaries; hence until Charlie was old enough to accompany her, she was attended, or rather pursued, longo intervallo, by a faithful, grey-headed old coachman, who, though he could make only a show of attending her, did his duty pretty well by cutting off corners, and listening for the little silver horn which his mistress carried suspended round her neck.

These gallops, and parties, next to a game Of hide-and-seek with her boy, were the delight of Mrs. Dayrell's bright and blooming existence. Next however in her affections, to love of child and husband, certainly stood the glory of Hampshire, that mag nificent New Forest (on the borders of which Holmleigh Hall was situated), which she loved with an almost ex travagant affection, and which was to her an ever-flowing spring of romantic delight. Of her own flowery life she imparted largely to others ; and to all, in fact, who would receive it, much of her own sweet sunny atmosphere of peace and joy. When her parents named her Irene, they must have had remarkable foresight. But in the unselfish and cheerful disposition, which was one of her strongest characteristics, and which came to her, as divines would I — say, both by nature and by grace, her parents had obtained the best security for their daughter's possession of those great blessings.

Yet there was at times a shade of sadness on that sunny face, the cause of which none but her husband guessed, and which perplexed even her nearest and dearest friends. Whether caused, however, by mental or nervous pain, the clouds soon passed. If the mother was fond of her blue eyed, frolicsome, curly-haired darling, he was passionately devoted to his ' pitty mamma.' To sit on her knee among the flowers, listen to her charming singing, or to go dancing with her over the springy turf of their beautiful grounds, to the tune of ' Charlie is my darling,' or in winter evenings to sit on his little stool beside her in a corner of the great hearth, where huge logs sent up their crackling noise and flame, while he listened to the adventures of Robinson Crusoe, Sinbad the Sailor, or the twelve labours of Hercules, the rescue of Andromeda, or Mrs. Hack's delightful ' Winter Evenings' —to tumble and slide on ice and snow, or harness ' Tiger,' the great Newfoundland dog, to his little waggon, and play at ' Esquimaux ' — all this surely was a fair bright dawn of life for a boy with brain and heart to appreciate it.

But the sterner side of life in the shape of lessons, which at first he couldn't endure, w-as steadily presented to him, and, though with wry face, on the whole loyally accepted. ' If there's anything you particularly dislike doing, Charlie,' said his mother to him once, ' do it — to strengthen your will.' And Charlie hugged the disagreeable injunction to his heart as bravely as he heard that a Spartan boy had hugged the young fox which tore him. So life flowed on for him in light and shadow, but with the fairer and happier element largely preponderating ; while Mrs. Dayrell was often the brightest element of all. It must not be supposed, however, that all her experiences with regard to her merry and restless child 'as he older grew' were equally rose-coloured. Plaintive, even anxious inquiries might sometimes be heard from her lips, when the boy could not be found at meal times, or even occasionally when he ought to have been in bed. 'Where is that strange child gone to now ?' and then the usual answer was, ' I'm sure I can't think, ma'am.

We've hunted everywhere for him, high and low, haven't we, Susan ?' One frosty winter evening, when Charlie was about seven, the nurse came to Mrs. Dayrell in much anxiety, saying : ' If you please, ma'am, I do believe Master Charlie's gone up the lake again, skating.' ' What ! at this time of night ?' ' Yes, ma'am. We've been looking all about for him, and we can't see his skates anywhere, and it's bright moonlight, and there are holes for the fish, and Thomas has just thought he could see something moving on the lake a long way off.' The young woman's voice trembled with affectionate apprehension. ' Well, hasn't Thomas gone to look for him ?' 'That's what I said, ma'am. But Thomas don't like going unless you'll send coachman with him. He says the ice is dangerous in some parts.' ' Nonsense !' continued Mrs. Dayrell, growing excited. ' He needn't go on the ice at all.

He can make Master Charlie hear from the bank.' ' Yes, ma'am ; but ' ' But what ?' ' Why, ma'am, there was a man drowned there once, they say, and folks are afraid ofthe bogies at night.' Whereupon Mrs. Dayrell could not help smiling, in spite of her anxiety, and despatched both coachman and foot man ; the butler confidentially remarking to the cook, it was lucky ' missus ' hadn't asked him to go too, for then he should certainly have had to give warning. Nurse's prophetic vision proved correct ; and the little adventurer was ere long conducted into the hall, highly in dignant at being brought back before he had discovered the North-west Passage, and just when he was hunting a bear. Of course he was well scolded, kissed, and hustled off to bed. The result of his adventures was not always so harmless.

Many a time he came home with sundry bruises, for he could not be satisfied with keeping to the usual routine enjoyments, fitting for his age. But one of the first lessons his mother taught him was never to flinch from pain, and always to ' bear it bravely like a man.' Which, accordingly, he did ; and thereby not only suffered from it less, but got rid altogether of the greatest pain of all, viz., fear. ' Pain,' said his mother to him once, when he was first going to school, and he never forgot it, ' seems to be God's chief instrument for unfolding our higher life. It's a sign, no doubt, of something being wrong, that should be put right. But, for that — still more for its effects in making us brave — welcome it, Charlie, when it does come, as a blessing, not a curse. For, of all things, my boy mustn't be a coward.' One day she took him to a blacksmith's forge and let him see a bar of iron heated red-hot, hammered, heated again, and then plunged into cold water. 'Very uncomfortable process, doubtless, for the iron, Charlie,' said she. ' But that lasts only a short time.

The hardened, tempered steel remains useful and victorious for years.' And the boy profited by her parable. He little knew how much pain, bodily and mental, his mother had suffered, and occasionally through life did suffer. But she never had the pain of hearing him whine over his own mishaps. His love of adventure and yearning for painful conse quences brought him, however, sometimes into awkward scrapes. Once he lay three hours with a sprained ankle in a distant part of the park, till the gamekeeper heard him afar off occasionally shouting, and then discovered him tranquilly caressing his dogs, in considerable pain and unable to stir, but as cheerful as usual. Another time he could not be found at nightfall, was searched for all the summer night through, and was discovered at daybreak fast asleep, snugly ensconced under a hay-rick, his bow and arrows and dogs beside him.

His account of the matter was that he had gone to hunt deer in the backwoods of America (i.e., the New Forest), that he had lost his way, shot nothing, and fallen asleep because he was so hungry. This was too much of a joke ; so for a long time his father forbade him going into the Forest at all, but presented him with a pocket compass, and sternly commanded him to carry it with him wherever he went. ' The fact is,' said Mr. Dayrell to his wife, when Charlie was brought home after his night's wandering, and been well reprimanded, ' that boy never seems happy except when he is engaged in some mad frolic or dangerous adventure.' ' A correct description, dear,' replied his wife, ' had you said he is happiest then. I think he is always happy. But he must be restrained in his frolics.' The New Forest, with its exquisite woodland scenery, sparkling streams, and wild heaths, was a grand source of in spiration and delight to young Dayrell, as well as to his mother, and which it has been to so many thousands of English men, that we can almost condone the cruelty and selfishness which originated it.

Yet not one in a hundred of those w-ho ought to be perennially or occasionally refreshed and in spired by its beauty and freedom knows anything about it, or has ever visited it. Mrs. Dayrell's influence on her impulsive boy was just of that mixed character which might have been expected. She brought some very sweet and peaceful influences into his life, as well as those which fostered his native daring. On fine summer and autumn evenings she would take him now and then to the top of a little wooded hill in the park, whence they could see the sun set and watch the tinted clouds, and think of them as ' . . . steps unto heaven and while they gazed into '. . . the bright slanting west, # * * Where all those heaven-bound sunsets go, Ever from toil to rest,' a deep peace stole into the mother's heart and extended to the heart of her child.

More than once, indeed, she saw him actually lying quiet for at least half an hour on the turf, watching the soft white clouds in the noon-tide summer sky, wondering where they were going, longing to follow them, and meditating on the heaven up in the blue beyond. But a far stronger influence came from another feature in Mrs. Dayrell's character. She had inspired her boy with her own ardent love of all things wild and daring, beautiful, romantic, and dreamy. But she also fostered in him a desire, not merely for an adventurous, but for an heroic, chivalrous, and, in the best sense, a manly life. Happily for her son, her sense of the ' becoming ' was as strong as for the ' fair and beautiful,' or the romantic and ardent im pulses he received might easily have whirled him off into infinite depths of extravagant error and vice.

But his mother loved and worshipped some celestial vision of purity and grace, some mystic as well as Christian ideal of goodness and beauty combined, which she set before her suscep tible boy in such glowing colours, that as he grew into youth and manhood he turned, like his mother, with instinctive scorn from all that was ugly and base, impure, cowardly, discordant. In short, she was never weary of helping him, not only to be adventurous and happy, but to ' think on those things ' that were ' pure, lovely, and of good report,' One of her greatest delights was setting before him the priceless worth of true chivalry, of what was heroic and self-sacrificing, chaste and loyal in the characters of King Arthur and his Knights, especially of Sir Galahad, next to the King himself ; in the lives of the heroes and Crusaders of Mediæval Europe ; in the pages of Froissart and the Faerie Queen ; of Shakespeare's plays, and Sir Walter Scott's poems.

She taught him Italian at a comparatively early age, that she might read to him Tasso's immortal epic, and let him feed his young soul on the exploits and charac ters of Godfrey, Tancred, Raymond ; thus training him, as she hoped, for lofty Crusading deeds. In Milton's grand plea for the ' Liberty ' of the Press, and in many passages from his other writings, especially his ' Comus ' (which Charlie learnt by heart, and greatly loved), and in the account of his early life, he found both the im pulse and the sustenance of his highest aspirations. The following passage he had got by heart soon after he was about fifteen, and first became acquainted with Milton's writings : ' I betook me among those lofty fables and romances which recount in solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood founded by our victorious Kings, and from hence had in renown over all Christendom.

There I read it in the oath of every knight that he should defend to the expense of his best blood or of his life, if it so befel him, the honour and chastity of virgin or matron ; from whence even then I learned what a noble virtue chastity sure must be, to the defence of which so many worthies by such a dear adventure of themselves, had sworn ... So that even these books, which to many others have been the fuel of wantonness and loose living, I cannot think how, unless by Divine indulgence, proved to me so many incitements, as you have heard, to the love and steadfast observation of virtue.' Music from his earliest years had great charms for Charlie. Among his chief delights as a child was to sit on his little stool by the fire on winter evenings, listening to his favourite airs played or sung by his mother.

Sometimes he carried that delight to a yet higher pitch by reading, at the same time, the poems and heroic or touching little tales which she provided for him. He named those pieces of music which were specially associated with some favourite story, poem, or hymn, after what he had thus been reading to the accompaniment of his mother's playing, so that he could ask for them accordingly ; and as she saw these quick responses to the influences she brought to bear on him, it might well be that, like Cowper's mother, she was herself, indeed, the happier of the two. Being of a very sociable disposition, Charlie immensely enjoyed the frequent arrival of guests and visitors at Holm leigh Hall; while the various parties given, so far as his early hours permitted him to mingle in them, were full of fascinating interest and adventure.

Of course he was petted by the ladies, and the gentlemen willingly obeyed his summons to sports and games. In short, till he went to school, that lad lived in an enchanted world. But was he then destined to be a youthful Don Quixote, needing to be disenchanted by hard blows and cruel dis appointments ? Who knows ? Hard knocks and grievous disappointments might well be in store for him — plenty of them. But the faith and hope that were in the very fibre of his soul would perhaps turn out to be of such sound and genuine stuff as no delirious Don ever possessed ; and these might prove sufficient for mastering the evil spirits he must surely encounter. 'Might prove.' Yes; but then again they might not. The world is a tough bow to bend. There was, however, one other factor in the calculation which had to be reckoned with.

Some, possibly, would think it of very little importance. Yet it should be men tioned. With all her love of excitement and adventure, Mrs. Dayrell, strange to say, was deeply religious at heart. In fact, had she not been, the chances seemed that she would either have gone out of her mind or eloped with one of her many brilliant and dashing admirers — at the least have hired a yacht and sailed round the world, or have ridden through Europe and Asia Minor on horseback in male attire, and paid a visit to Lady Hester Stanhope in the Lebanon. But whether (as some may doubt) for good or evil, it is certain that Mrs. Dayrell had surrendered her whole soul to Him Whom she believed to be her Maker, and had accepted, in her simplicity, with unwavering faith, the Deliverer Whom she also believed God had sent to rescue humanity from all its wickedness and woes.

Hence, while she read every good novel she could hear of with avidity, she was no less eager to obtain and read the best sermons of the day. She felt, in short, as if her very life was rooted in the excitement which the world afforded, and in ' the peace of God ' which only religion could bestow. Under the head of ' sermons,' per haps, she included the Bible. For, whether much or little read, it was seldom far out of her reach. It will not cause wonder, then, if her little son grew up to be something like her in this respect also. His whole soul was pervaded with a ' dim religious light ' from infancy, which grew brighter by degrees — or, some might say, darker. Mrs. Dayrell, moreover — fortunately for Charlie — with all her romantic enthusiasm, was not one of those foolish mothers who are blind to the faults of their children which everybody else can discern.

Nor, seeing them, was she afraid to tell him of them — albeit he was an only son, who, we are told, is invariably spoiled. Sometimes she had to hint that he was getting too good an opinion of himself, and then he felt profoundly abashed for a time ; and though the need grew again, as with most clever, high-spirited young folk till they go to school, he was so far chastened in this matter at home, that a very little of the rough sarcasm of school was sufficient to make him thereafter as modest and humble-minded as any of his favourite knights, in whom, his mother reminded him, such qualities were among their most conspicuous graces. But there was a more dangerous and difficult foe to overcome. ' Charlie, you really must learn to curb that quick temper of yours, or it will bring you into trouble some day.' ' Mother, how can I ?' asked the boy impatiently. ' As you curb your pony, my boy, when he tries to get the bit between his teeth and run away with you.' Then she added softly, when he seemed to have taken in that idea, ' Do you remember how you admired our Lord for bearing so gently with His cruel persecutors, and what you said about the Apostle Peter after reading his First Epistle, and what a noble character you thought him, to have conquered all his angry passions ?' ' Yes, mother ; and how you said he could only have done that because he had remembered the warning to watch and pray.' So the boy set himself to overcome his angry passions also.

CHARLES DATRELL. 13 Mr. Dayrell was not by any means a potent influence on his son's life at any time. Yet it might have been well for the boy and man if more of that stately, high-principled, ' fine old English gentleman's ' character and views of life could have entered into his being. It was, however, scarcely possible it should be so. Mr. Dayrell lived in a lofty region, far removed from the sphere even of his wedded wife, and was not likely to concern himself much with a sensitive, im pulsive child of tender years, or a rollicking yet dreamy schoolboy. He took rather more interest in him when grown to young man's estate, but then the young man's character was pretty well formed. There was not even the common ground between them, usually found in such circles, in a love of field sports ; for while Charlie as a boy was ardently fond of sporting, and was allowed the services of a gamekeeper, a mild amount of game-preserving, lots of dogs of every description, and a thoroughbred pony, his father ' cared for none of these things,' looked on the whole business as insufferably barbarous and stupid, and regarded politics as the only serious pursuit worthy of a rational being.

Mr. Dayrell's enjoyments in the country were reading the Morning Chronicle and Times, biographies, travels, Mrs. Hutchinson's ' Memoirs,' and Clarendon's ' History of the Great Rebellion,' varied with infrequent billiards, his regular magisterial duties, and an occasional stroll in his own grounds, rare and furtive attempts at angling, and a daily quiet amble on a strong but aged cob. His heart, however, was always in London, wherever his body might be. The House of Commons — of which he had long been a silent, slightly supercilious, but much-interested member — his club, his dinner-parties and invariable ' rubber,' at decorous even ing hours, constituted the sphere of his life and being. Yet there was one point on which Mr. Dayrell and his little son might have fraternized had they but known it, or cared to be better acquainted.

His family was a very old one — not a branch of the Kent or Buckinghamshire Dayrells, but the genuine representative of the Dayrell who was a knight sans peur et sans reproche of King Arthur's days, or at all events ofthe Crusades, and of whom Mr. Dayrell was ex ceedingly proud. This was the less to be wondered at, be cause he certainly had a good deal himself of the true knight in his composition. There was that lofty purity of heart characteristic of the loyal chevalier in his ideal, and often most real, state — that scorn of all that was mean or false, that perfect hatred of anything approaching to sensuality and sins of the flesh. A character, in short, somewhat more rare in those days than now among English gentlemen : yet less rare in any days than some evil minds may suppose. Hence it is evident how warmly (had they but known it) both son and father, as well as the mother, could have sympathized in the matter of chivalry, and how cordially they must have agreed as to the gratitude they felt to the written records of chivalry for the help they had given them in striving to cherish and wear ' the white flower of a blameless life.' On one or two rare occasions only did Charlie seem to snatch a glimpse into his father's inner life.