Henry George Liddell, D.D., Dean of Christ Church, Oxford; a memoir

Preface

This memoir has been compiled at the request of Mrs. Licldell, and has had the advantage of her constant encouragement.

Many friends of the late Dean have most kindly contributed to the volume their recollections of his life at various times and under different aspects. Their contributions have, as far as possible, been duly acknowledged.

The compiler of the memoir may himself claim, without presumption, to write with an authority based upon adequate knowledge. It was his good fortune to be admitted to Westminster School by Mr. Liddell in 185 1. For four years he was under him there, and rose to be a member of his Sixth Form. From 1858 to 1877 was a resident student of Christ Church, and as undergraduate. Tutor, and Censor, was brought into very varied and often very intimate relations with the Dean. The friendship which he was thus privileged to enjoy extended over nearly half a century, and was only ended by the Dean's death.

vi Preface

The story of Dean Liddell's life, clown to the year 1834, has been largely drawn from his letters to his parents, and from a MS. autobiography which he wrote in his old age for the instruction of his children, but which unfortunately terminates at that early date.

He was never a great letter- writer, and during his long residence at Oxford, where he was able to meet his chief friends in daily intercourse, his correspondence was not voluminous. There exist, however, a good many letters addressed to Robert Scott and H. Halford Vaughan, which have been courteously placed at the disposal of the writer, and from which quotations have been freely made. Sir Henry W. Acland, his oldest living friend, has contributed many charming reminiscences ; and from the letters written to him by Dr. Liddell, when both had retired from active life, some interesting selections have been made.

The arrangement of the narrative is designedly unmethodical, especially in that portion which deals with the long period of his life as Dean. It has been thought best to mention subjects as they were naturally suggested, rather than to arrange events in a strict chronological sequence.

The writer desires to express his cordial thanks to the many friends who have given advice and help, and especially to the Rev. T. Vere Bayne, his former colleague as Tutor and Censor, whose uninterrupted residence at Christ Church for more than fifty years has made him an almost final

Preface vii authority on all matters connected with its history since 1848, and whose vigilant criticism has been most kindly and most usefully applied to the revision of the proof-sheets of a work in which he has taken a very warm interest from the beginning.

Thanks are due to Mr. Ryman Hall for permission to reproduce the crayon portrait by Mr. George Richmond, R.A.

Oxford, April, 1899..

Chapter I

Childhood and Schooldays (1811-1829) . . . . i CHAPTER n.

CHAPTER ni.

CHAPTER IV.

Headmastership of Westminster (1846-55) ... 86 CHAPTER V.

Deanery of Christ Church (1855-91) . . - -134 CHAPTER VL

Deanery of Christ Church {continued) . . , .166

CHAPTER Vn.

Deanery of Christ Church {coniimmi) . . . .231

CHAPTER VHL Home Life 249

CHAPTER IX.

Resignation of the Deanery and after-life (1892-8) 265

Index 281

b

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Portrait by Cruikshank To face fi. 28

„ „ George Richmond, R.A. . . Frontispiece

The Chaplains' Quadrangle, Christ Church . „ 16

The Monster

Christ Church Cathedral in 1813 . . . To face p. 149

Christ Church Cathedral (1856-1S70) . . ,,154

Christ Church Cathedral after restoration „ 158

The Great Quadrangle from a drawing made

The Great Quadrangle after restoration . ,, 164

Bloti'ing-paper Sketches by Ukan Liddell

Between pp. 194 and 195

The Deanery, Christ Church, from the Garden To face p. 249

The Gate in Christ Church Cloisters leading

to Dean Liddell's Grave .... „ 278

THE LIFE

OF

HENRY GEORGE LIDDELL

CHAPTER I

Henry George Liddell was born on February 6, 1811. He was the eldest child of the Rev. Henry George Liddell, whose elder brother, Sir Thomas Liddell of Ravensworth, was created Baron Ravensworth at the coronation of George IV. This peerage, advanced to an earldom in 1874, was a revival of a barony created in 1745, which became extinct in 1784. He was thus a member, on his father's side, of an ancient and honourable family of the county of Durham, and his mother, Charlotte Lyon, was fourth daughter of the Hon. Thomas Lyon, brother of the eighth Earl of Strathmore.

He was born at Binchester, 'a good square stone house placed on an eminence facing the Bishop's Palace at Auckland, and distant from

B

[CH. I that town about a mile.' It belonged then to the Lyon family, but was afterwards bought by Bishop Van Mildert and pulled down. Here Mr. Liddell and his wife lived, with his wife's brothers and sisters, serving his first curacy in the adjoining parish of South church. He was soon promoted to the benefice of Redmarshall, near Stockton, and then to the Rectory of Boldon, a village on the high road between Newcastle-on-Tyne and Sunderland. Boldon was thus the home of the family during the childhood and boyhood of the future Dean. He describes himself as a studious boy, fond of the children's books of the day, such as Mrs. Sherwood's and Miss Edgeworth's tales, Sandford and Merton, Robinson Crusoe, and the Swiss Family Robinson.

' On my sixth birthday I was promised a great honour and reward. My father took me up into his study and inducted me into the mysteries of the Eton Latin Grammar. I remember the day, the place, and the fact as clearly as if it were yesterday. I continued to make pretty good progress under his kind teaching; but I fear that as I went on from day to day I did not regard the honour so great as I did on the first day.'

At the early age of eight, as was usual in those days, came the first great sorrow and separation in his life — his transference from the bright country home to the rough discipline of a private school. He was sent with his younger brother Thomas, who was but seven years old, to Bishop-

CH. l]

Private School ton Grove, a house standing a little distance from the road leading from Ripon to Studley Royal. The school was kept by a Mr, Weidemann, a choleric man and an indifferent teacher.

' In the course of a long life, I have not escaped several sharp and severe sorrows, though I have to thank God for blessings far exceeding the sufferings. But I do not think that any sorrow of youth or manhood equalled in intensity and duration the blank and hopeless misery which followed the wrench of transference from a happy home to a school such as that which received us in the summer of 1819. I remember, as if it was yesterday, the sinking of heart, the sense of desolation, the utter despair, the wish that I could die on the spot, when my kind and loving father parted with us in the Master's study, and passing out of the green gate of the little garden in front of the house, disappeared from sight. His heart, as he told me afterwards, was as heavy as ours. But we did not then know this.'

It was a rough place, with little kindness, unintelligent teaching, the frequent use of the cane, and the inevitable bullying.

'We little boys were made to sit at the long desks with our hands over our eyes ; and certain big fellows, having needles fixed in little balls of sealing-wax, blew these missiles through peashooters, so as to pin our ears to our heads.'

In September 1823, at the age of twelve, Liddell was entered at Charterhouse School, where he

B 2 remained till 1829. The long journey from Boldon occupied four days. His description of the school as it then was is worth recording, for at that time, under the famous Headmaster Dr. Russell, it occupied a leading position among English Public Schools, and in numbers nearly equalled Eton. On the night after his arrival in London, his cousin, Robert Liddell, afterwards the well-known Vicar of St. Paul's, Knightsbridge, took him to Mr, Watkinson's house in Charterhouse Square.

' Here I was turned into the ' Long Room,' a low, dark, dirty apartment, measuring (I should think) about 70 feet by 15, with an excrescence at the upper end, added to accommodate increasing numbers of boys. Here we breakfasted, dined, and supped ; and this was our only sittingroom. The upper boys had cupboards between the windows, and a sort of table-desk in front of each cupboard, so that the doors of the cupboards being open they formed a sort of screen, and enabled them to read and write in comparative privacy. The lower boys sat on benches placed along the dining tables, and while the upper boys were at work were compelled, on pain of prompt punishment, to keep absolute silence. The upper fire was reserved for the upper boys. At the lower end was another fire, to which the lower boys were allowed to go ; but the little fellows did not see much of it. Each boy had a small locker of two shelves, in which he kept his books and whatever else he chose. . . . The only place we had to wash in was a narrow room, with cH. I] At Charterhottse leaden troughs on either side, and cocks to supplywater, which was caught in small leaden or pewter basins. Unless we found our own towels, we had nothing wherewith to dry ourselves but a long roller-towel behind the door. Considering that London was not much cleaner than it is to-day, it must not be wondered at if we boys, especially the little ones, were not remarkable for cleanliness. On Saturday and Sunday, however, when we went out to visit friends, we managed to make ourselves tolerably smart. I really wonder how this was achieved ; the circumstances were not favourable.

' The bedrooms were small and crowded. In the room in which I was placed there were five beds, with not much space round them. Next

me was a fellow named , who became the

plague of my life. He delighted in teasing and vexing me in every way he could. One morning I woke and found my hair sticking to the pillow. Getting it loose, I found the whole pillow soaked with blood, and there was a boot (of the kind in those days called Bluchers) lying near my head.

It turned out that I had been snoring, and had

thrown his boot at me and hit me on the nose. However, it could not have been much of a blow, as it failed to wake me. I suppose it stopped my snoring.

' I do not retain so vivid a recollection of my early days at Charterhouse as of Bishopton. I only know I detested both. One of my letters preserved by my dear father is, after three years' experience, dated " Beastly Charterhouse."

' Dr. Russell was a revolutionary schoolmaster. He introduced what was called the " Bell and

[CH. I

Lancaster system " into the school ; that is, the lessons were taught in the lower Forms by boys, and heard by the Masters. In order to rise from one Form to another, except in the lowest and the highest Forms, a boy had to serve as Praepositus or teacher of a Form for, I think, six weeks ; and, as I have said, the Master came round and heard the lesson as it had been prepared under the direction of the boy-teacher, who was also responsible for the order and good conduct of the Form during school-hours. It was a system devised to save expense in Masters, and no doubt it was not without advantage to the teaching boys, though the benefit received by the taught was doubtful. But to a boy who was not physically strong, the office was a sore burthen ; and to those who were not mentally strong, it was a waste of time both to themselves and to their Form. I served as Praepositus, I think, three times, and hated it extremely. One of the Masters, Andrew Irvine, a Scotsman (afterwards incumbent of a parish in Leicester, I think, and a notable preacher), used to go about the school roaring at the luckless Praepositi. '■ Liddell," I remember him shouting to me, " you're as saft as butter ! " . . . Every half-hour the Form was required to stand up, for change of posture, for a quarter of an hour (I think these were the appointed times). Old Watkinson — Watkey, we called him — came by and said, " Liddell, why is not your Form standing ? " "I beg pardon. Sir," I said, " I did not observe the time." " You, Sir," he shouted, ''you not know the time ! You, who make more show with your watch than any boy in the school ! " This was in allusion to a crimson

CH. I] Dy. Russeirs Teaching silk watch-guard, which passed round my neck, and after meandering over my waistcoat was attached to the watch in the pocket. Rough treatment of this sort was not calculated to encourage shy or timid boys.

' When we got into the upper school, consisting of the two head Forms, one was delivered from this servitude of teaching. But Russell's tongue (he heard the lessons of these Forms himself) was not always under control. Many of us had a rough time of it even there. Once, I remember (I know not on what occasion), he told me " I was as lazy as I was long, and should bring down my father's grey hairs with sorrow to the grave." I was no doubt somewhat listless, having outgrown my strength, but I hardly deserved this reproach. It certainly did me no good. ... It was long before I shook this listlessness off, if indeed I have ever done so. Canning used to apply to me the words in Tennyson's Miller s Daughter,

" To be the long and listless boy. Late-left an orphan of the Squire,"

though the last line certainly was inapplicable.

* One of Dr. Russell's rules was to constitute a Form between the Sixth and Fifth {or, as he would say, the First and Second), which he called the Emeriti, i, e. those who had served their time in lower Forms, and were entitled to be placed in the Sixth as vacancies occurred. Before joining the Emeriti, we were obliged to learn all the Odes and Epodes of Horace by heart, and to be able without book to translate them and answer all questions — grammatical, geographical, and historical. I achieved this task, but with much labour ; for

I never had that facility which many others have of retaining in memory the actual words of poets or others. However, I succeeded at last in satisfying the Doctor. Then came a time of blissful ease and indolence. The Emeriti were supposed to learn the same lessons as the Sixth. They were, however, seldom called on to exhibit their knowledge, but were expected to sit in rapt attention, drinking in the wisdom displayed by the head Form, corrected as it was and amplified by the Master's turgid style. It needed, one would have thought, no great knowledge of boy-nature to predict the consequences. We did not trouble ourselves to prepare the lesson ; and when, on very rare occasions, we were called on to produce what we had learnt, or were supposed to have learnt, great was the consternation, grievous the display of ignorance, and vehement the wrath of the Doctor.

' Before I rose to a place in this curious Form, it was my lot to sit next W. Makepeace Thackeray. He never attempted to learn the lesson, never exerted himself to grapple with the Horace. We spent our time mostly in drawing, with such skill as we could command. His handiwork was very superior to mine, and his taste for comic scenes at that time exhibited itself in burlesque representations of incidents in Shakespeare. I remember one — Macbeth as a butcher brandishing two bloodreeking knives, and Lady Macbeth as the butcher's wife clapping him on the shoulder to encourage him. Thackeray went to Cambridge, and I never met him after we left school till I went to Westminster as Headmaster in 1846. After

CH. I]

Religioiis Teaching that he often used to join Mrs. Liddell and myself when riding in Rotten Row. On one occasion he turned to her and said : " Your husband ruined all my prospects in life ; he did all my Latin verses for me, and I lost all opportunities of self-improvement." It is needless to add that this was a pure fiction — I had trouble enough to do my own verses. At this time Vanity Fair was coming out in monthly parts in its well-known yellow paper covers. He used to talk about it, and what he should do with the persons, Mrs. Liddell one day said, " Oh, Mr, Thackeray, you must let Dobbin marry Amelia." " W ell," he replied, " he shall ; and when he has got her, he will not find her worth having." . . .

' As to religious instruction, we were not better off than boys in most of the schools of those days. On Sundays, an hour before church, we were assembled in the great schoolroom, and were called on to read parts of the Bible, each boy in his turn taking a single verse. The Doctor was very particular in requiring due emphasis to be laid on words and phrases, chiefly (I remember) by means of a pause before and after the word or phrase to be emphasized. Woe betide him who failed to read distinctly and make the proper pauses. The Doctor roared at him, just as in a lesson from Euripides or Cicero. I remember I used to count the verses and the boys above me, to see which verse would fall to my lot, and carefully studied how to read it with due attention to the prescribed rules. Generally, I succeeded pretty well. Sometimes, however, a boy read so badly that the next to him had to read the verse

c lO

C J did J 100 d and Schooldays

[CH. I again. This put my calculation out, and I learnt as a precaution to study one or two verses preceding that which would properly come to me. It was not a bad lesson in reading, but had not much of religion in it. , . .

' When I was about fifteen years of age, I was confirmed with others by Bishop Blomfield. His charge to us boys was most impressive. I remember well the effect it had on myself, and the earnestness with which I prayed for help, and the good resolutions I formed. Many of these impressions were blurred and destroyed in the course of ordinary school life, but some remained and exerted an influence over all my days. Charterhouse, indeed, at that time, in common with most other schools, was not a place to foster religious impressions or to bring out the best part of a boy's nature. I believe I passed through the ordeal with less scathe than many others. I am sure that my aspirations rose to a higher level than they attained at the wretched Yorkshire school, from which I passed to the great London school. Thank God, these things are better now. . . .

' In July or August, 1829, I left Charterhouse. Never did pilgrim departing from an inhospitable mansion shake the dust from off his feet with more hearty satisfaction than I did on quitting the noble foundation of old Thomas Sutton. It grieves me now, when I see how differently boys regard their old schools, to think how cordially I hated both my own places of education. I do not think it was entirely my own fault. What I have written above may in some degree justify my feelings.

CH. l]

End of School Life

II

But I was too happy at home to have loved any school.

' I left Charterhouse a fair grammar scholar, but with very little classical reading. Russell's teaching did not favour extensive acquirement. Four or five Greek plays, with Porson's notes, two or three books of the Iliad, a little Pindar, Cicero's Offices and some of his Orations, with some few additions, constituted the bulk of what we read in school. But we learnt by heart all the Odes and Epodes of Horace (as I have before said), and the Georgics of Virgil, for which I am, and have been, always grateful. We also read most of the Satires and Epistles. But Greek Prose was almost untrodden ground. Herodotus and Thucydides were known only by name. I do not recollect having read any Greek Prose, except Plato's Apology. On the other hand, I devoured a large quantity of English Literature ; and having at that time a tolerably retentive memory, I amassed a good deal of general information.'

The few letters which help to illustrate this period of Liddell's life are mostly written to his father, his constant correspondent. He left Charterhouse a tall thin lad, having somewhat overgrown his strength. He had, as he describes, been well trained there in Greek and Latin, although within a narrow range of authors, and had read a good deal of general literature. Of Mathematics he was as ignorant as the average schoolboy ; but the instruction of his father's Curate soon made up the deficiency, and when

c 2 he began residence at Oxford he had already gained some acquaintance with Differential Calculus and Analytical Geometry.

It was delightful beyond measure to exchange smoky London for the country home in the north. That home was indeed no longer at Boldon, his father having recently accepted the living of Whickham, a village two miles from Ravensworth. It may seem strange that school life had no pleasing memories for him ; but he was of a somewhat shy and reserved disposition, of studious habits and tastes, not ready to make many friends, and with his dearest thoughts and affections centred in his home. And a home so far distant from London had not been easily accessible. The journey by coach occupied a long while and cost several pounds. It was therefore usual for Liddell to spend the shorter holidays, at Christmas and Whitsuntide, with his aunts at Bath, or at Shotesham Rectory in Norfolk with his aunt, Mrs. J. Fellowes. No wonder then that home visits were exceptionally dear, and that the prospect of spending nearly a year with his family, in the interval between school and college, was eagerly welcomed.

Chapter II

Shortly before leaving Charterhouse in the summer of 1829, Liddell went to Oxford, in order that he might be entered on the books of Christ Church, He was matriculated on May 9. The Dean at that time was Dr. Samuel Smith, who two years later exchanged the Deanery with Dr. Gaisford for the Golden stall at Durham. The Senior Censor was Thomas Vowler Short, afterwards Bishop of St. Asaph.

The matriculation completed, Liddell returned to Charterhouse, and when the summer holidays came, he travelled home, and waited there for a summons into residence at the University. This never came, and after Easter, 1830, it was thought expedient to send him up to Oxford. He was unable at first to secure rooms in college, and for a fortnight lived at the Mitre Hotel, attending Chapel, Lectures, and Hall dinner. He ultimately was assigned small rooms in the now demolished Chaplains' Quadrangle.

[CH. II

' So began my life at Christ Church. I felt verysolitary. Not a single man in college did I know, except Andrew Dunlop, an old Carthusian. When there was a knock at the door, I looked longingly for the person entering, hoping that some one had taken compassion upon me. I was very shy, and it was a kind of penance to go into Chapel or Hall under the eyes of the old stagers . . . and I got into the habit of going in early that I might avoid the supposed inquisition of strange eyes. In Lecture I felt more at ease. My Tutor, Robert Biscoe, soon discovered that I took pains in preparing my work, and used to appeal to me to correct the errors or io;norances of some of the other men. ... In Lecture I was now first introduced to the intricacies of Thucydides, and was fain to have recourse to Hobbes' translation, which however was nearly as difficult as the Greek. It was the first time in my life that I had ever used a " Crib," and I do not remember that I ever indulged in another such assistance till I had to grapple with the Rhetoric and Ethics of Aristotle.

' I returned to Christ Church, of course, after the Long Vacation. Soon after we met, my Tutor intimated to me that there was to be an Election to Bishop Fell's Exhibitions, and that I was to be a candidate. One of the conditions for election was one year's previous residence. Now I had only resided for the two short Summer Terms, and a few days of the Michaelmas Term. How this difficulty was got over, I know not. But I was admitted as a candidate, and was duly elected, to the great joy of myself and my parents. I remember I went down on my knees and thanked God that

CH. II] Nominated to Studentship 15

I had been enabled to relieve my father of some portion of the expense of my education, though, as I remarked in my letter announcing the fact, " £\o a year is poor interest for all the money you have spent on me."

'On December 15 of the same year I wrote: " My dear father and mother : Never did I take up my pen with more pleasure than I do now to tell you that I have this day received intimation from the Dean that I am to be a Student. After Collections he called me up and said that Dr. Dowdeswell [a nonresident Canon] had most kindly allowed him to nominate a Student for him ; and that he was most glad that he had an opportunity of showing his entire satisfaction with my conduct since I had become a member of Christ Church." To explain this, I may notice that in those days the Dean and Canons in rotation nominated young men to Studentships. In many cases these nominations were mere matters of favour, and were bestowed on the sons of Canons, or some other of their relations and friends, without regard to merit. But the Dean and some of the Canons had begun of late to nominate Commoners of the House on the recommendation of the Censors and Tutors, and to such a recommendation my appointment was due. Robert Scott, Fellow and then Master of Balliol, was one of the batch of Students appointed at the same time ; and he also was recommended for merit : the rest all, I believe, owed their nomination to favour and interest. Mr. Gladstone had been appointed two years before, just before he took his degree — better late than never.

' After I became Student I had not to complain of

I i6

[CH. II solitariness. Our Mess in Hall was a pleasant one, and I had to resist, rather than seek, invitations. . . . I was elected to the Union Debating Society, and heard Gladstone make his last speech there, against the Reform Bill. He struck me as equally fluent and able as a speaker as in future times. Of course his knowledge was more limited and his experience less ; but in copiousness of language, ease in delivery, and lucidity of arrangement there was nothing to desire.

'In the summer of 1831, the old Dean, Samuel Smith, exchanged his Deanery for a Prebendal Stall at Durham, with Thomas Gaisford, Professor of Greek at Oxford ; and on our return in October we found the new Dean in possession. The exchange was, I believe, effected by Bishop van Mildert of Durham, whose niece (Miss Douglas) Gaisford had married. I do not remember that the change of rulers was much felt, and I find no notice of the matter in my letters.

' In January 1832, I reached Oxford a day late, and was hauled up before old Gaisford on Monday morning, though in very good company, there being about forty others in the same scrape with myself. . . . When I began to apologize and excuse myself for not having been back in time, my set oration was cut short by Daniel Veysie, the Censor, who exclaimed : " Well, Mr. Dean, perhaps you will not notice Mr. Liddell's absence this time, as I believe it is the first time he has ever missed being back in time." Of course I was a man of too much politeness to contradict the reverend gentleman's assertion ; but the real fact is, I never was back to the day from the time I became a resident

CH. II] The * Ten Tribes '

member of Christ Church. This is a sad confession. I hope it will not come to the ears of Christ Church undergraduates.'

In 1832 Liddell became one of the original members of a club which, from its consisting of ten members, and meeting at the house of Tribe the tailor, opposite Tom gate, was called the ' Ten Tribes ' ; to which was added ' and little Benjamin their ruler,' Benjamin Harrison being the President. Of the ten original members, five were Bachelors of Arts and five undergraduates. The list, as given by Liddell, is worthy of record. The five Bachelors were Charles Wordsworth (afterwards Bishop of St. Andrews), Walter Kerr Hamilton (afterwards Bishop of Salisbury), and Benjamin Harrison (afterwards Archdeacon of Maidstone) — these three had taken first classes in Classics ; the remaining two were Henry Denison (afterwards Fellow of All Souls), who had taken a Double First, and Henry Anthony Jeffreys, a First-class man in Mathematics (afterwards Vicar of Hawkhurst). Jeffreys outlived all the rest, and died a few months after the Dean.