of the distinguished men who have from time to time adorned
our Colleges. I think, as I write, of Thackeray, of Tennyson,
of Arthur Hallam, of Mackworth Praed, of Lord Houghton,
and many others, about whom it would have been a pleasure
to collect a few facts. And then there is general society. It
would have been a very real pleasure to me to try and draw a
picture of what that was in the days before the new Statutes
had " cried Havock, and let slip the dogs of war." Our quiet
little preserves must have been very like the Ancien Regime
before the Revolution ; or Italy before Napoleon upset the old
order of things.
46 y .^s T{e7ni?iiscences
V
Up to the present, in ray " Recollections,'''' I have confined
myself, more or less closely, to the education and amusements
of the place. I must now try to describe what the general
society was like ; and, in the first place, let us consider how
very small it was. Let us begin by opening the Calendar for
1842, when I was nine years old. My father and mother were
very fond of society, and if anybody was worth knowing I am
sure they knew them ; but, so far as I can make out, they could
not possibly have been on visiting terms with more than sixty
ladies, if so many. In the first place, there were seventeen
Heads of Colleges — we will go minutely over these later
on; then there were twenty-five Professors, and eleven resi-
dents in Cambridge, Commorantes, popularly called " Cor-
morants." Now what steps did they take to see anything of
each other ? In the first place, there was the perpetual morning
call ; secondly, the evening party ; and, thirdly, the great staple
entertainment, a dinner party. Mrs. Jones was not on proper
visiting terms with Mrs. Smith unless she had been invited, with
quite long notice on a card, not infrequently coloured a delicate
pink or a light azure. Moreover, there was an unwritten code
of laws which governed a dinner party. I will try to describe
one. We will suppose a lady and gentleman are sitting by
their dining-room fire. " My dear, I think we ought to give a
dinner party.'" " Do you .? I don't think we owe anybody
anything.'*'' It must here be said that nobody dreamt of issuing
invitations because they wished to see people, but merely
because certain rules of society had to be obeyed. If you lived
in Cambridge in a certain position, you had to entertain. There
was no way out of it. It had to be done. " If you look more
closely into the matter I think you will find there are some
people at whose feet a dinner ought to be laid.'''' " Very well,"
with a certain asperity of tone, " I will go and find my pocket-
book and then we will see." I need hardly add that the
ty/ D'm7ter Tarty 4.7
husband was right, and as there were several persons of Euro-
pean reputation for learning who had not dined in their house,
a dinner party was agreed upon. Further, I must not omit to
chronicle the fact that this dinner-giving went on and on, and
there was no end to it. You had no sooner finished one batch
than you had to begin with another.
The number selected was usually about sixteen or eighteen,
consisting of six couples, the master and mistress of the house,
and four of the pleasantest bachelors available. In making the
selection many things had to be considered. If it was Lent,
you must be careful not to ask a High Church Professor of
Divinity on a Friday ; and, further, a Friday was dangerous
because the " Family " met on that day. Monday was sacred
to the Philosophical Society ; and, as Natural Sciences became
popular, Wednesdays were consecrated to the Ray Club.
At last the guests are completed, and host and hostess await
in fear and trembling for the almost inevitable disappointments
at the last moment. It ought to have been easy enough in so
small a place to get people to fill up, but it was not ; and I have
heard a lady who came at the last moment say, in the midst of
a dead silence, " Pleasant party this. We don't belong to it.
We were only asked this morning."
Now you must know that the food and drink and the
appearance of the table were all totally different to what
they are now. As regards the first of these, the host had to
resort to his college kitchen, and there appeared a dinner about
twice as substantial as was necessary. The wine also, at most
houses, was served with great liberality. The table alone was
badly furnished, and looked poor and starved. When the
guests Avere ready to go into the dining-room (places, it should
be remarked, were not allotted) a man was told what lady he
had to take in, but he sat himself down where he pleased.
People used to pride themselves on getting a seat next to a
pretty and agreeable woman. When the places were all filled,
it was observed that opposite the lady of the house there was
a tureen of soup ; opposite the host, a fish. Then there were
/|.8 y.'s T{emi?tiscences
four entrees, and, if you wished to be very generous, two more
dishes, which, because they were put one on each side of the
table, were called " flanks." Says the gentleman who had taken
in the lady of the house, " May I have the pleasure of helping
the soup for you ? " Poor woman, how could she say " No " ?
But the function was usually somewhat disastrous. Probably
her gentleman began to talk and pay more attention to the
conversation than his work. It is also not improbable that the
waiter was the worse for some previous imbibition, and in
handing the soup would pour a whole plateful down her back.
I don't know what ladies said on these occasions, but once when
a bishop was deluged with gravy he exclaimed, " Is there any
layman present who will express my feelings for me ? " The
soup disposed of, the host attacked the fish, and, if it was
summer-time and he was an enthusiastic slayer of salmon, he
made the distribution of that unfortunate fish a somewhat
tedious operation. Next of all, the entrees were handed ; after
which the remains of the soup and the fragments of the fish
were taken away and replaced by the inevitable boiled
turkey and roast haunch of mutton. Here again some un-
happy guest was expected to assist the lady. These dishes
disposed of, came a course of game — a roast hare and a dish
of snipes — after which an interminable procession of sweets,
followed by cheese and ale. As regards the liquor imbibed,
one began with sherry. I have heard my mother say that,
when she was a girl, there was a pint decanter of sherry or a
pint decanter of Madeira between each two persons. The wine
was not handed, but a gentleman who wished to be civil to the
lady he had taken in to dinner asked her to do him the honour
of drinkinc: wine with him. Towards the end of dinner a small
quantity of champagne was served, but I need hardly say that
durincT the French War there was not much of it.
By this time the dinner had lasted about two hours, and
the guests were beginning to long for the real business of the
evening, their port wine. Then the cloth was drawn, and the
butler went round with a napkin in his hand, begging the
A Dinner 'Party 49
guests to move a little so that he could get between each pair
so as to belabour his beloved table and remove the stains made
by the hot plates and dishes. Then an elaborate dessert was
put on, a dessert which the lady of the house had arranged in
the morning and given a plan of to the local greengrocer or
other functionary who had been hired to look after it. By
this time the table had begun to look very gloomy unless the
host chanced to be the lucky possessor of several pairs of silver
or plated candlesticks, as gas, it must be remembered, was not
in general use. I think I have already mentioned that nothing
bright or pretty was permitted on the dinner table : no flowers
were allowed. I don't know why, but the fact remains that
there were no bills of fare. You were expected to eat every-
thing with a thankful and grateful spirit, only nothing was to be
allowed to interfere with the supreme duty of life, your port
wine. Woe to you if you were seen eating sweets. I once
heard an old gentleman say, " Sir, do you presume to give an
opinion upon port wine such as this when you have got half a
preserved orange in your mouth ? " The gentleman who
uttered this noble sentiment was a splendid specimen of a
bygone age. I once saw him at dinner in knee-breeches, and
he was almost the only person that I ever did see in that most
becoming costume.
When the whole party had returned to the drawing-room,
and the conversation was at its height, we used to have a little
music. What I am now about to tell you is almost incredible,
but I can assure my readers that I have not distorted or
exaggerated in any way. I have told you that no one was
ever asked to dinner without the almost certainty of a return
invitation ; but, if her room was a large one, the lady of the
house took care that it should be filled, and she accordingly
invited a certain number of ladies and gentlemen to come in
after dinner to play and sing for the amusement of the
company. They usually sang romantic and sentimental ditties :
the wrongs of Ireland and the woes of Greece were set forth
at length ; and sometimes the lady of the house herself, armed
D
50 y.'s T{emi7iiscences
with that awful instrument called a concertina, used to play
duets with another lady, similarly provided. There was a good
deal of free-and-easiness in this mode of entertainment, and the
Heads of Colleges detested it all the more because it was
unfettered by any of their own rules and regulations. Instances
have been known of their leaving a room where such profanity
was permitted. These interlopers had, I know, to be fed, but
it was not necessary to provide them with anything very
luxurious. It has been estimated that four such parties, of ten
or twenty people each, could be given for one sovereign ! The
food consisted of a few sandwiches, the top of the sponge cake,
of which the lower part had already been consumed at dessert,
the fragments of the jelly, cut up and put into glasses, and a
little lemonade and white-wine-negus to wash it down. It
might have been thought almost impossible to persuade ladies
and gentlemen to come on these terms, but I could single out
two ladies especially who had no hesitation in obliging those
who did not scruple to entertain them in this supplementary
fashion. In future times the husband of one became a success-
ful mathematician, and the husband of the other an equally
successful Poll " coach.""
At this point let me tell a story. The first of the above-
mentioned ladies, with her husband and her family, spent two
or three months of a summer in a French watering-place.
While there they became exceedingly intimate with some
University people of a social rank which they considered to
be considerably below their own. So, a day or two before
leaving, the lady called on the friend whom she thought so
second-rate, and, after regretting that they must know so
little of each other in the future, said, " You see, dear Mrs.
So-and-so, the difl'erences in our University rank will make
it quite impossible for us to meet as we have done during these
delightful summer weeks."" Mr. II., as we will call him for
convenience, the husband of the lady who made this remarkable
statement, was among other things an exhibitor at the Exhi-
bition of ""51, and, in that capacity, was honoured by an
^ horning Call 51
invitation to the ball given by the City of London to the Queen
and the Prince Consort. Mrs. H. happened to be in deep
mourning for her mother, and her lady friends in Cambridge
were very curious to know how she would manage the difficult
question of dress. That she would go they felt certain ; but
how would she deal with the arduous question of etiquette .?
So, a few days afterwards, she was called upon by several of
her friends, who eagerly inquired what she had done. " Did
you go in colours, my dear .? " " Not altogether." " But, of
course, you could not appear before the Queen in black." "No,
of course I could not ; but I found a way out of the difficulty —
I did not take off my black silk stockings."
This same old lady used to do all the family housekeeping,
which was carried out in a much more simple and straight-
forward manner than it would be at the present day. On
returning from market one day, this ancient dame paid a
morning call, and presently, observing that her friends were
looking at her, she sprung to her feet, screaming " Dear me,
what are you all looking at ? Why, surely that must be an eel
on the carpet there "^ " And sure enough it was. She had in
the first place put it into her pocket, whence it had made its
escape, and was now wriggling over the drawing-room floor.
CHAPTER III
J. AS A BOY
I NOW return to my sketch of J.'s childhood, I can find little
information about his private school, if indeed he ever went to
one. In 1844 he took lessons in Hullah's system, and was
" drilled by Mr. Reed " ; in April of the following year " Johnny
went to Mr. Woring's." Was this a private school ? In 1846
he was certainly learning to ride and "attending an academy "
— possibly of dancing — in Cambridge.
" I have never remarked,"" said Dr. Alexander, then Bishop
of Derry, in preaching at St. Margaret's, Westminster, on St.
John the Baptist, " I have never remarked that the only sons
of elderly parents are particularly remarkable for self-abase-
ment." J. was an only son and his parents were elderly.
I feel sure that he was spoilt; he indeed remained a spoilt
child to the end of the chapter, and although he ate but
sparingly, he would be humorously petulant even in later life if
some hostess had, in her ignorance, provided certain dishes he
did not like. He used to pretend they had been ordered especi-
ally to annoy him. As a little boy he was very lonely. His
father discouraged him from making friends or even acquaint-
ances amongst those of his own age, and a boy can't always be
l)othering with grown-up peoi)le and grave dons. He sometimes
talked to me of the tedium of his boyhood and of the restrictions
which in early Victorian days it was thought well to impose
on the vounsr. He was lonely and friendless, and I think that
fc/ try •'
both at home and at Eton he was, well — not happy. There is
a pathetic paragraph in a letter ^ to Mrs. Pemberton of Trump-
ington Hall, referring to her mother: "For me, she provided
1 Dated Scroope House, October 22, 1899.
52
Trumpingt07t Hall 5 3
all that was pleasant in my dreary childhood. I used to look
forward to a visit to Trumpington under her regime as a sort
of paradise, where I found friends and endless pleasures denied
to me elsewhere." The kindness J. had received at Trumping-
ton Hall is further shown by the following extract from a
speech he made at the coming of age of Mr. Francis Pemberton
in 1906 :—
" Let me think — when did I first enter that dear old house,
which to me as a child, happy to escape from the dullness and
stiffness of the Cambridge of that day, seemed 'a pleasant
place of all festivity,' and which has never lost its charm .? It
was on the 10th of January 1844, and we guests, who came
expecting an ordinary children's party, were gladdened by the
sight of what was then a complete novelty, a Christmas-tree.
It was fixed to the centre of the dining-room floor — some of us
thought it grew there — and it touched the ceiling. It was
laden with French bonbons, and of course lighted by a pro-
fusion of wax tapers. French bonbons were at that period as
rare as Christmas-trees, and I believe that the ruins of some
of those which were given to me on that occasion are on my
chimney-piece at the present moment.
" Who were our hosts that evening ? In the first place
there was the owner of the estate. Colonel Pemberton, with
his delightful wife, whom I remember most distinctly in old
age, when she used to amuse us of the younger generation
with stories of her far-off' youth, when George the Third was
king. Stories did not lose in her hand ; and though I would
not for the world say that she was ever ill-natured, there was a
slight suspicion of malice in the way she turned her phrases
which was quite delicious. . . .
" There were present, of course, Captain and Mrs. Campbell,
the father and mother of our hostess to-night. Of the Captain
I remember little ; but Mrs. Campbell, as I still prefer to call
her, whom you all know as Mrs. Pemberton, was the friend of
my boyhood and the friend of my manhood. In a life that
has now grown to be a long one, I think that I never knew
54 y, as a ^oy
anybody quite like her. Others may have been as clever, as
well-informed, as generous ; but she combined all these excel-
lences, and added to them a charm of manner peculiar to
herself, which made her a perfect hostess, and a perfect Lady
of the Manor.
" Nor am I likely ever to forget the boy for whom the
party was given — her eldest son, Frank Campbell. I was three
years his senior, being eleven years old when he was only
eight; and from that proud eminence I contemplated with
some jealousy his blue velvet frock, which I thought much
more picturesque than my own. I suppose we must have met
on some previous occasion ; but if so, I have quite forgotten
what it was. It is from that evening that I date our friend-
ship, which lasted unbroken until his death."
On the 19th April 1847, J. went with his mother to Eton,
where he entered at the house of William Johnson. On the
following day Johnson addressed the following letter to Dr.
Clark :—
Eton College, 20iA April 1847.
" Dear Sir, — I am very glad to be able to tell you that
your son''s examination terminated this evening success-
fully, as he was thought by Dr. Hawtrey fit for 'the
Remove,"" so that he is placed as high as any one can
be, and as the half-yearly promotion takes place on the
9th of June he will be in the fifth form unusually early.
. . . Yours faithfully, William Johnson.'
51
As I have said before, I do not think that during his four
years at Eton, J, was happy or content. He did not understand
other boys — how could he? The Eton life was at that time
rough and hard ; he had a very quick temper and was bullied,
and probably as he grew bigger retaliated in kind. One or
two friendships seem to have been nipped in the bud by the
interference of his elders. He had no athletic qualifications
such as would attract the regard of his schoolmates, and I, for
one, am not surprised to find in almost all the letters from
Eton 5 5
school a careful estimate of the time which must elapse before
he could leave the place and return to Cambridge.
Later in life J. became an enthusiastic Etonian, and
developed a deep affection for his old school. He fittingly
included in the ArcMiectural History an account of its build-
ings. He constantly revisited the College, and served upon
many a committee connected with it.
J.'s tutor, William Johnson, who later changed his name
to Cory, was a stimulating and interesting master, and a writer
of delicate poems, full of thought. He was, as one who edited
his poems, lonica, writes, " for many boys a deeply inspiring
teacher ; he had the art of awakening enthusiasm, of investing
all he touched with a mysterious charm, the charm of wide and
accurate knowledge, illuminated by feeling and emotion. He
rebuked ignorance in a way which communicated the desire to
know. There are many men alive who trace the fruit and
flower of their intellectual life to his cenerous and free-handed
sowing. But in spite of the fact that the work of a teacher
of boys was intensely congenial to him, that he loved generous
boyhood, and tender souls, and awakening minds with all his
heart, he was not wholly in the right place as an instructor
of youth. He was for ever trying experiments ; he would read
a dozen books to enable him to give a little scientific lecture,
for he was one of the first to appreciate the educational value
of science ; he spent money on chemical apparatus, and tried
to interest the boys by simple demonstrations."^
Like all men who keep diaries, Johnson not infrequently
bemoans his unfitness for the career he had chosen, but
in truth he must have had a real gift for teaching and
awakening the interest of boys. He retained his Fellowship
at King's until 1872, and on his visits to Cambridge usually
sought out J. On the 17th of September 1865, he takes two
young guests to see the Geological Museum, and " thence I
marched them to the Comparative Anatomy, and luckily found
^ lonica, by William Cory, with Introduction by Arthur C. Benson
(London, 1905).
56 y. as a ^oy
my old pupil, J. W. Clark, setting up things in the workshops,
probably things he had brought back from Denmark, where
the great Steenstrup gave him (and he showed us) a sucker of
the biggest of all pieuin'es.^ In a bottle he had the head of a
common one. He respected me for having seen a live one at
Nice, and for telling him the Norman name of the beast,
' Minaur.' "
Again, in 1867, during one of his recurrent periods of self-
effacement, Johnson wa'ites : " I never call upon the Fellows
of Trinity except to get a lesson in anatomy from my old
pupil, J. VV. Clark." 2
Mr. Oscar Browning went to Eton as a Colleger in 1851,
and left in 1856 for the sister Foundation of King's, his gown
having been duly sewn up and then, as the ceremony was,
" ripped " by the Provost of Eton. J. came into residence at
Cambridge in 1852, and thus, although a little later in joining
and a little later in leaving Eton, Browning's career over-
lapped that of J., and his vivid description 3 of the life and
surroundings of a Colleger in the middle of the nineteenth
century gives some idea of the harsh conditions of life of a
King's Scholar at that time. The lot of the Oppidans was
happier, but still very different from that of the schoolboy
of to-day. Mr. Browning's description of the food and the
washing facilities in College fall somewhat behind, but as
regards the latter but little behind, those of Dotheboys Hall ;
but we must not forget that adequate baths are only now
being slowly provided in the Colleges of the older Universities.
It was only last year that a venerable Head of a House at one
of the older Universities,^ on the subject being broached at
a College meeting, exclaimed with some acerbity : " Baths !
Why the young men are only up eight weeks ! "
1 Cuttle-fish.
* Extracts from the Letters andJournals of WilUum Cory (Oxford, 1897).
(Privately printed.)
* Memories of Sixty Years at Eton, Cambridge, and Elsewhere (London^
1910).
* Not Cambridge.
William yohnso7t 57
Mr. Browning had a very keen appreciation of the teach-
ing and the influence of William Johnson, " one of the ablest
men who ever devoted his great powers to the service of
education."
J. boarded with his tutor, who then held the boarding-
house on the southern side of the second archway on the left,
after you have passed Barnes Pool Bridge going towards
College. Originally this house was part of the old
Christopher Inn, the stables of which, on both sides and at
the end of the yard, were for years used as livery stables by
Charley Wise, 'pere et Jils. After J. had left, Johnson passed
on house and boys to his brother-in-law, the Rev. F. Vidal,
remaining himself a lodger, and to some extent also a boarder.
His sister, Mrs. Vidal, was a lady of some distinction as a
writer.
During the Easter Vacation of his first year at Eton,
J. dined at the High Table in Trinity with Professor
Sedgwick, always, like Thackeray, a kindly friend to boys.
I wonder if they had rump-steak and apricot omelette,
which the latter considered, to be the proper food for his
schoolboy friends.
Some scores of letters have come down to us written by
Mrs. Clark to J. at school, and as many from the schoolboy
to his parents. His father wrote less often, but always in an
affectionate manner, and ever showing a deep interest in
his boy's studies and an intense wish that he should make good
progress.
Mrs. Clark was a most spirited letter-writer. She was as
outspoken as Mrs. Drunmiond-Ogilvy of Allardyce, Catriona's
kinswoman, and her letters have the same quality of frankness.
If I were attempting to write her life and not her son's, I
should wish, instead of quoting a few sentences, to reprint
them all and in full. Except for a few affectionate phrases,
such as "My dear little boy'" and "don't get up a fit of
measles to coax Mummy down to Eton," she writes to her
son of fourteen as if he were, to say the least of it, grown
58 y. as a T^oy