Memory's harkback through half-a-century, 1808 to 1858

Front matter

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Prefatory Note

I HAD fully decided that ' Classical Coincidences ' must be ultima Thule of my dabblings in printers' ink. But the past year pertinaciously kept telling me that, when ' Mens sana in corpore sano ' is vouchsafed to an old man, he has no right to fritter away his latter days in twirling his thumbs.

F. E. G.

Contents

I. CHILDHOOD— EARLY BOYHOOD AT HEREFORD - 1

II. SCHOOLDAYS AT SHREWSBURY - - - 21

III. HEREFORD — COUNTY ELECTION - - - 42

Chapter I. Childhood : Early Boyhood At Hereford

In 1803, a few miles from Windsor, I came into the world. My ' note of time,' from five years old and onwards, is clear and distinct. Two incidents have always been to me as the starting-point of my recollections : the first Sunday that I was breeched and taken to church, with a new sixpence in my pocket ; and the first ride I had upon ' Old Jack,' held on by one of my brothers. The Jubilee of George III. I well remember, and the tantrum I put myself into because I was not allowed to go out at night to see the bonfires. But then, as a sugar-plum, I was taken to Windsor Terrace, and saw — nay, I see him now — the poor old man in the Windsor uniform, leaning on the arm of the Queen and one of the Princesses ; his cocked-hat made a marvellous impression upon me.

It was a grand day with me when I was taken through the great telescope at Slough, had kindly greeting from Sir William Herschel, and a kiss from good Miss Caroline. I think I was rather flustered than flattered by a condescending pat on the head from Lord Grenville, he looked so grave and grim. But I immensely enjoyed being taken to beautiful Hedsor one Sunday. Lord Boston was my godfather, and his silver knife, fork, and spoon are yet daily in my hands. He stands before me now, as he stood then, in white hat, blue coat, nankeen continuations from throat to foot, and, what caught me most, a double gold eye-glass dangling in front of him.

The face of the country roundabout was, and stiU is, familiar to me. We were three miles from Maidenhead ; and Taplow, Chefden on the one side, Burnham, Britwell, Dropmore on the other, were within my ken. A somewhat curious matter occurred in this respect : about twenty years after we left the country, I visited for the first time the remains of our dear old home. I walked from Maidenhead, and instinctively took the direct field-path, which I could only have travelled once or twice as a little child. Having moused over the old spot, I, in walking back, lost my way on the very road which, two hours before, I had taken correctly, upon the strength of twenty years' remembrance. How was this ?

In 1810 we were transplanted to Hereford. It was a grievous wrench to be dislocated from the familiar roof-tree, but we had all abundant reason to be content with our new quarters. In those days Hereford was a quiet (may we say a sleepy ?) city — little stirring beyond the ordinary trade and. traffic of the county town. But the clergy and a fair sprinkling of resident gentry made up more than an average society. The social habits of those days were strangely different from the present. Dinner-parties were few and far between ; when they took place the hour was five, otherwise the almost universal hour was that most untoward one of three p.m. The favourite gatherings were at six o'clock ; tea and cards, with negus and cakes handed about during the evening ; departure before ten. Sometimes the party ended with a supper — some substantial and mostly hot dish at the head, various kickshaws down the table. To these parties the matrons came in sedan-chairs, the younger damsels walked with a lantern borne before them. As to flys and such-Hke conveniences, they did not exist — you could only hire a post-chaise or gig. At that time only one person in Hereford, besides the Bishop, had horses to his

1 — 2 carriage. When we speak of the public buildings, the Cathedral of course comes first. Those who know it as it is, can have little idea of its condition in the olden day. The west front was then, as it is now, a grievous disfigurement, to be erased, let us hope, at some early day. It, is just over one hundred years since the former west end fell in. I remember hearing old Canon Cope say that, soon after he was ordained, he baptized a child in the nave of the Cathedral, and had only just gone out by the north porch when the crash came. In my boyhood, neglect and indifference as to the state of sacred buildings was universal. No wonder, therefore, that in the Cathedral were to be seen broken pavement, monuments uncared for, the grand Norman pillars buried in coats of whitewash. In the choir, the stalls were surmounted by galleries, both painted a yellowish-gray. The galleries were common deal, but the stalls were carved oak, as was accidentally discovered. The fact being- that some former Dean and Chapter, being economically disposed, put up the deal galleries, and daubed the carved oak with paint to correspond. The north transept was used as a place of worship for St. John's parish. On Sundays, morning prayer was said here at ten o'clock ; at eleven, the Cathedral Service was held, consisting only of the Communion to the end of the Nicene Creed, with a sermon. In the afternoon a full Service in the transept, with prayers in the Cathedral at five p.m., but no sermon.

The Minster Yard was an untidy and uncared-for place, with pathways made ad libitum in all directions, while the earth had so accumulated round the walls that only an inch or two at the top of the crypt windows under the chancel remained, just enough for our marbles to slip through. On the south-west end was a huge ugly brick building, erected for the music-meeting concerts, and used ad interim as the Grammar School. In Pipe Lane was the birth-house of Nell Gwyn, now, I understand, destroyed. In the High Town was the old Butchers' Row, all but one house now gone ; the old Town Hall built on pillars ; both the law courts in the same room — very ancient, but very inconvenient. The new Shire Hall, built about sixty years since, stands on the site of the old gaol, used in my time as an arms dep6t for the militia.

The two former Deans had been mainly non-resident ; the Chapter, therefore, had it all their own way, and that way was to wrangle and fight. There were Montague and Capulet, Drs. Morgan and Napleton, who were at deadly feud, each having their partisans. Dr. Morgan had just died.

but Napleton remained, ready to fight any and all who presumed to oppose him. He was very shrewd and sharp, and even outside the Chapter he found himself involved in lawsuits. A story was current that in one of these, relating to a watercourse, his main witness was cajoled or bullied by Dauncey, the opponent's counsel, to swear that the stream ran in a given direction, which, by a plan of the ground, was shown to be uphill. The Canon lost his cause, and forthwith gave Dauncey a retaining fee. It was when a vault was being made in the chancel for Dr. Ford, another Canon — in 1813, I think — that the remains of Bishop Trelleek were discovered. I chanced to be in the Cathedral, and saw the bulla, ring, an amethyst, and crosier, lying beside the clammy dust, apparently entire, but when 'touched the lower part crumbled away ; there was also a lock of auburn hair. I understood that these relics were afterwards stolen, whether from roguery or superstition may perhaps be a question. Not a bad story was current touching the son-in-law of Dean Wetherell, who occupied the Deanery. Overlooking the garden was a school for young ladies held by a Mrs. Lincoln, who resisted the demand of the Deanery occupant to brick up an obnoxious window, at which her damsels amused themselves. The lady closed a

■fiery correspondence with this shot : ' The old saw that the Devil overlooked Lincoln was now reversed, for Lincoln overlooked the Devil.' Among others connected with the Cathedral whose memories cling to me was old Gustos Underwood, that is, the head of the College of Vicars, who were then twelve. He was a good-humoured, easy-going veteran in a scratch wig, who, besides his office in the Cathedral, was incumbent of St. John's and St. Nicholas, and chaplain to the gaol. This last involved a week-day service, which the Custos was always glad to escape. One day, as he was wending his way unwillingly to gaol, he met the clergyman who had taken the duty the previous week. When the Custos thanked him, he politely said that he should at any time be happy to do it for him. ' No, would you really ?' said the old man. ' Well, one good turn deserves another ; you did it last week ; suppose you do it again.' So saying, he turned round and went home.

Then there was the senior Vicar, Kidley, old and quaint, partially palsied ; but, when primed with an extra glass of port, it was wondrous to hear him troll out ' Old Thomas Day.' In earher years he was sharp of tongue, and not very careful to conform to the law that there should always be two Vicars present at the Cathedral service. One day he was an absentee, and the Canon in residence marched after prayers with verger and mace to Kidley's rooms, and found him warming his shins over the newspaper. ' Sir,' said the Canon, ' I am sorry to say that we made a most disgraceful appearance at Quire this morning.' ' Indeed, Mr. Canon,' rephed Kidley, ' then I am extremely glad that I did not make one amongst you.' Whereupon Canon, mace, and verger departed with what dignity they had left.

Another not unfrequent offender against ' Church discipline ' was Dare the organist ; his command of his instrument often stood him in good stead. His bibulous propensities earned him rheumatic gout; his gout made him indolent and unlocomotive, consequently it now and then happened that he was behind his time. I think I hear him now crawhng upstairs into the organ-loft, which was perched between the nave and the choir, while the Psalms were being chanted ; gradually and stealthily he manipulated the keys, till all at once he broke into the note of the chant. It was something wonderful, and doubtless often saved him a wigging from the residentiary.

Then there was Meepy Davis, the organ-blower, an inveterate chewer of tobacco. Dare would not allow his quid in the organ-loft, so he always deposited it on the iron railing of the monument inside the north porch. I am afraid I was tempted to sprinkle a little cayenne on it, and witnessed his grimaces when he put it into his mouth. Once more, there was poor old blind Phil, who rang the curfew and the six o'clock morning bell, and always went up to the belfry by himself One morning when he reached the floor on which the ropes hang, and which is over the choir of the Cathedral, he was sensible of a current of cold air, which told him that the trap, through which the bells, when necessary, were lowered, had been left open. He at once laid himself flat down, till the people, wondering that the early bell did not ring, came up and found him. No power on earth could induce him ever to go up to the belfry again.

To an 'old hand' the modern names given to the streets in Hereford are very puzzling ; amongst them I am told that the narrow cut from the Minster Close to the High Town is now Church Street — it used to be Cabbage Lane, a corruption, that is, of Capuchin Lane ; so an historical trace is lost. This reminds me of a similar alteration, not an improvement, in Surrey. At Tarnborough Station is the Morant Arms, which was, and ought to be, the Tumble-down-Dick, in token of Richard Cromwell's early fall. Not far from this, Bagshot way, is the Jolly Farmer, similarly corrupted from the Golden Farmer ; inasmuch as the landlord, who always paid his rent in guineas, was at last discovered, and hanged, as one of the most daring highwaymen on Bagshot Heath.

Hereford might not be so bustling and enterprising in the olden day as it is now, but we were not without our excitements. The Peninsular War was at its height; a battalion of the 44th Foot was quartered in the city for a long time, and during the summer in succession were called out the County Militia, under Colonel Cornewall, and the three regiments of Local Militia, commanded respectively by Sir John Cotterell, Colonel Matthews, and Sir H.,Hoskyns. These importations of redcoats kept us alive and merry ; the officers were to be entertained, and give entertainments ; there was the daily bustle of the parade on the Castle Green, to be concluded with the review of each regiment by old Lord Cork, or some other veteran. Besides all this there was the Yeomanry, under Major Whittaker, who, after the manner of all deaf persons, had a stentorian voice when giving the word of command to his squadron on Widemarsh ; his second in command, Captain Benjamin Biddulph, was almost as loud. All these martial manifestations kept us awake, and from time to time came news of one and another of Wellington's victories.

O

Then followed illuminations and public feasting. At one of these rejoicings a curious dodge was played off. To commemorate the victory of Albuera, I think it was, there was a grand dinner at the hotel ; the Duke, or Jockey, of Norfolk, as he was irreverently called, in the chair. The foremost seats on either side the table were reserved for the big-wigs, that next to the chair having on it the name of Sir Hungerford Hoskyns. Just before the dinner the card of ' Major Payne ' was substituted for this, and the baronet and his next neighbours lowered a step. When the party assembled, a spruce gentleman appeared, and, with many apologies for the liberty he had taken, announced himself as on Lord Wellington's staff, just arrived from the Peninsula. He had ventured to place himself next the President, beheving that he was able to afford information which would interest the company. During the dinner he was very communicative as to what had taken place, and was then likely to ensue, in the prosecution of the war. He completely took the ear of his Grace, who invited him to stay at Holme Lacy — in short, he was the lion of the day. But, unluckily for him, there chanced to be visiting in Hereford a gentleman from this masquerader's own neighbourhood.

Meeting him in the street, he claimed him, and the bubble burst. But the Duke was very sore at being so entirely taken in. The joker was the son of a solicitor at Maidenhead, Berks, who turned his wits to sorry account, and was much given to practical tricks. This Duke of Norfolk was the great man of the county, and very popular, though a Whig. His wife was the last representative of the grand old Scudamores of Holme Lacy. I seem to see his broad back encased in a French gray coat, with velvet collar, as he rolled into his coach, which his unwieldy bulk swayed all on one side. He was a very free liver, as was the fashion then, and wine and cards entailed late, or rather early, hours. Not a bad story was afloat on this head with respect to his Scotch porter in St. James's Square. One morning Donald appeared, and said : ' Your Grace, I must give up my place ; I cannot away with your unchristian habits, coming home at two and three in the morning, and half tipsy, too.' The Duke, who was used to, and fond of the man, said : ' Nonsense, Donald ! stick to your place, and I promise you I will come home earlier. Now to-night I will be here before eleven.' Donald went his way, not in the least thinking that his master would be as good as his word. But the Duke came back soon after ten, and could not get in to his own door. The real truth being, that Donald loved tipple as much as his betters, but fuddled himself at an early hour, and had slept it off by the time the Duke usually came home ; but at half-past ten he was lying quite drunk in his crib beside the hall.

Another notable character my memory takes account of in the Hereford days is Sir Charles Wether ell ; he was a son of a former Dean, and in 1813, or thereabouts, a candidate for the city. I see him before me on his canvass, a guy figure, in blue coat, drab breeches, and white cotton stockings. As he disdained braces, an inch interstice of shirt appeared at his waistband.* He was full of dry wit with the voters, but was unsuccessful. In after years I often saw him in the Court of Chancery. His bearing towards Lord Eldon was an odd mixture of the deferential and the independent, but they seemed quite to understand each other. It was curious that he, of all others, should have been counsel for Thistlewood on the Cato Street Conspiracy ; he did his best for him, but of course could not save his neck. Towards another Lord Chancellor Sir Charles bore himself very

* Sir Charles Wetherell is said to have escaped with his life from an angry mob at Bristol, on one occasion, by disguising himself — with a pair of braces.

differently ; he hated Brougham's politics, and he had little respect for him as a lawyer. In great measure, perhaps, he agreed in Lord Lyndhurst's estimate — ' Brougham is a wonderful man ; if he had but a little law he would have a smattering of everything.' When Brougham had reached the Woolsack, Sir Charles, as counsel for the University of Oxford, had to argue in the House of Lords against granting a charter to the University of London. He took the bull by the horns, and insisted not merely that it was inexpedient and objectionable, but that it could not be done. But then, it was a pet scheme of the Chancellor's, who was aware that if Sir Charles, when pleading, were interrupted he would often shut up altogether. Therefore he kept constantly breaking in upon him with ' But suppose. Sir Charles ' this, and suppose that. Sir Charles bore this some time, only saying : ' Keally, my lord, you puzzle me with so many possible and impossible suppositions, that you hardly leave me a canoe to float away upon.'

Brougham kept up his game with another yet more unreasonable question. Upon this Sir Charles stopped short, pulled out his snuff-box, and said :

' If anyone in his senses, my lord, were to propose to me such a ridiculous and untenable proposition as that, I should — take a pinch of snuff.'

Suiting the action to the word, he then took a huge pinch of snuff, and Brougham interrupted him no more.

The earhest pohtical event that I can remember is the murder of Perceval in 1812. The scare in the country was excessive, almost as great as at the Cato Street Conspiracy ; in both cases it was believed that revolution had begun. In Hereford the panic was increased when there appeared in the streets an uproarious mob, headed by a vehicle bearing a man, and apparently a woman, to whom the man hberally administered cuffs and buffets. All this increased the general alarm, till it appeared that it was only an accidental outburst of rough justice — that the apparently dressed-up woman was a man, who had been found beating his wife, and upon whom the mob was now inflicting retributive justice.

It was either this year or the next that another scare frightened the city from its quietude. In a thunderstorm, not at all excessive in itself, there arose to the eastward an awful darkness. I never shall forget it ; it was literally ' darkness that might be felt.' It turned out that a waterspout burst on the hill overhanging the viUage of Mordiford, which stands at the conflux of the Lugg with the Wye. The torrent of water rushed from the hill, making a drift road its channel, and drove both the rivers backward for a great distance, uprooting trees and demolishing houses. The resistless force of the current "was proved by the fact that a ciderwheel of solid stone and heavy Aveight was borne upon the surface from one side of the Wye to the other, and laid upon the opposite bank. I believe that the parish register contains a full account of this calamity, inserted by the then incumbent, the Rev. Charles Bird.

In my boy days a dear old couple — even then of the old style — lived at Titley, in Herefordshire. They were very kindly, good, and primitive — she in her own white hair ; he in bottle-green coat with velvet collar, satin waistcoat and breeches, and, if dressed for dinner, gold buckles in his shoes. One night his geese were stolen, and a label left on the old gander's neck :

' Mr. Greenly, with your one eye, For feeding your geese so fat,

We thank you for that ; Out of eleven we've taken but seven,

And you may thank us for that.'

They had^only a daughter, much devoted to literary work, and said to have published sermons. Of all fish in the waters she married Sir Isaac Coffin, an especially rollicking naval officer. For example one day at a lev^e George III. complimented him for having saved the Hfe of one of his seamen.

' I suppose, Sir Isaac, he would go anywhere to serve you now V

' Yes, please your Majesty, he would go to the devil to serve me.'

He persuaded the old people at Titley to give a ball, took care that the coachmen were all half-seas over, then sent the folk home with one horse of their own, the other owned by their neighbour ; at the first turn for their diflFerent roads, of course, the horses tried to go different ways ; the drivers were full of cider, and could not understand it, and several of them came to grief After a while the Admiral and his lady came to a sort of amicable separation. She lived, I fancy, in London ; and one morning a hearse and mourning-coaches drew up at the door, and the man announced that he had been sent to conduct the funeral of Lady Coffin Greenly. Years after these events I stumbled upon the old salt in a boarding-house at Cheltenham ; he was then very unpleasant, surly, and snappish, like an old Newfoundland dog.

Another pair were in their measure characters in that county — an old clergyman and his spouse. His eyesight was not of the best, and he used to make sundry blunders ; she sat in the pew close by, and tried more than half-aloud to encourage him by a running commentary. When he had poked a Httle and got over it, or when he came to a proper name and safely collared it, she would say:

' Very well, Mr. M . Better than expectation, Mr. M .'

One winter afternoon came his running comment too ; as he blundered through the second lesson he kept saying :

' I canna see ; I'm sure I canna see. It's no use ; I canna see. Here endeth the second lesson.'

Another Herefordshire parson was a great stickler for the observance of the Sabbath ; but the squire noticed that his man-servant regularly, at the commencement of the sermon, went out of church, returning after a time. He ventured, therefore, to ask his Rector why this interruption was needful.

' Well,' said his reverence, ' the fact is I never allow cooked meat on the Sabbath ; but I do confess that I like a hot potato with my cold beef Now, my man knows about the length of my sermon and how long the potatoes require, so he just slips out, puts the pot on the fire, and comes back into church to hear my sermon.'

Among the many anecdotes recorded of Dean

Hook, I saw that he had a great objection to preaching so long at the morning service as to interfere with the ordinary dinner-hour of the artisans. This story reminded me of an old Vicar of Oakham. In the church there was a large clock in front of the singing gallery ; whenever in his sermon the Vicar saw himself approaching one o'clock, he abruptly concluded. At last one of the parishioners asked him why he did so. His answer was very short and pithy :

'Sir, I'll spoil no poor man's pudding.' A Northamptonshire squire had also a large property in Herefordshire, which he chanced to visit. The principal tenant did his best to be hospitable, and, as matter of course, supplied at lunch the ordinary table-cider. This made the landlord's stomach ache. At an after-season, when the tenant went down to Northamptonshire to pay his rent, the squire directed his butler to give the guest the very best of fare, but to mix some vinegar and water, and say that it was Northamptonshire cider. When the man came to take his leave, the squire hoped that they had taken good care of him in the servants' hall, which, of course, they had.

'And how did you like our Northamptonshire

cider ?'

2 — 2

' Well, sir, it were rather bouldish.'

Had manners permitted, he would have said it was acid ; but the natives in the apple-land never speak of their nectar as being sour or acid ; it is only bould.