Tracks of a Rolling Stone [105]
was that my agent at the last moment threw up the sponge. The farmers formed a serried phalanx against Free Trade; it was useless to incur the expense of a poll. Then came the bill. It was a heavy one; for in addition to my London agent - a professional electioneering functionary - were the local agents at towns like Malmesbury, Wootton Bassett, Shrivenham, &c., &c. My eldest brother, who was a soberer-minded politician than I, although very liberal to me in other ways, declined to support my political opinions. I myself was quite unable to pay the costs. Knowing this, Lord Radnor called me into his study as I was leaving Coleshill, and expressed himself warmly with respect to my labours; regretting the victory of the other side, he declared that, as the question of Protection would be disposed of, one of the two seats would be safe upon a future contest.
'And who,' asked the old gentleman, with a benevolent grin on his face, 'who is going to pay your expenses?'
'Goodness knows, sir,' said I; 'I hope they won't come down upon me. I haven't a thousand pounds in the world, unless I tap my fortune.'
'Well,' said his Lordship, with a chuckle, 'I haven't paid my subscription to Brooks's yet, so I'll hand it over to you,' and he gave me a cheque for 500 pounds.
The balance was obtained through Mr. Ellice from the patronage Secretary to the Treasury. At the next election, as Lord Radnor predicted, Lord Ashley, Lord Shaftesbury's eldest son, won one of the two seats for the Liberals with the greatest ease.
As Coleshill was an open house to me from that time as long as Lord Radnor lived, I cannot take leave of the dear old man without an affectionate word at parting. Creevey has an ill- natured fling at him, as he has at everybody else, but a kinder-hearted and more perfect gentleman would be difficult to meet with. His personality was a marked one. He was a little man, with very plain features, a punch-like nose, an extensive mouth, and hardly a hair on his head. But in spite of these peculiarities, his face was pleasant to look at, for it was invariably animated by a sweet smile, a touch of humour, and a decided air of dignity. Born in 1779, he dressed after the orthodox Whig fashion of his youth, in buff and blue, his long-tailed coat reaching almost to his heels. His manner was a model of courtesy and simplicity. He used antiquated expressions: called London 'Lunnun,' Rome 'Room,' a balcony a 'balcony'; he always spoke of the clergyman as the 'pearson,' and called his daughter Lady Mary, 'Meary.' Instead of saying 'this day week' he would say this day sen'nit' (for sen'night).
The independence of his character was very noticeable. As an instance: A party of twenty people, say, would be invited for a given day. Abundance of carriages would be sent to meet the trains, so that all the guests would arrive in ample time for dinner. It generally happened that some of them, not knowing the habits of the house, or some duchess or great lady who might assume that clocks were made for her and not she for clocks, would not appear in the drawing-room till a quarter of an hour after the dinner gong had sounded. If anyone did so, he or she would find that everybody else had got through soup and fish. If no one but Lady Mary had been down when dinner was announced, his Lordship would have offered his arm to his daughter, and have taken his seat at the table alone. After the first night, no one was ever late. In the morning he read prayers to the household before breakfast with the same precise punctuality.
Lady Mary Bouverie, his unmarried daughter, was the very best of hostesses. The house under her management was the perfection of comfort. She married an old and dear friend of mine, Sir James Wilde, afterwards the Judge, Lord Penzance. I was his 'best man.'
My 'Ride over the Rocky Mountains' was now published; and, as the field was a new one, the writer was rewarded, for a few weeks, with invitations to dinner, and the usual tickets
'And who,' asked the old gentleman, with a benevolent grin on his face, 'who is going to pay your expenses?'
'Goodness knows, sir,' said I; 'I hope they won't come down upon me. I haven't a thousand pounds in the world, unless I tap my fortune.'
'Well,' said his Lordship, with a chuckle, 'I haven't paid my subscription to Brooks's yet, so I'll hand it over to you,' and he gave me a cheque for 500 pounds.
The balance was obtained through Mr. Ellice from the patronage Secretary to the Treasury. At the next election, as Lord Radnor predicted, Lord Ashley, Lord Shaftesbury's eldest son, won one of the two seats for the Liberals with the greatest ease.
As Coleshill was an open house to me from that time as long as Lord Radnor lived, I cannot take leave of the dear old man without an affectionate word at parting. Creevey has an ill- natured fling at him, as he has at everybody else, but a kinder-hearted and more perfect gentleman would be difficult to meet with. His personality was a marked one. He was a little man, with very plain features, a punch-like nose, an extensive mouth, and hardly a hair on his head. But in spite of these peculiarities, his face was pleasant to look at, for it was invariably animated by a sweet smile, a touch of humour, and a decided air of dignity. Born in 1779, he dressed after the orthodox Whig fashion of his youth, in buff and blue, his long-tailed coat reaching almost to his heels. His manner was a model of courtesy and simplicity. He used antiquated expressions: called London 'Lunnun,' Rome 'Room,' a balcony a 'balcony'; he always spoke of the clergyman as the 'pearson,' and called his daughter Lady Mary, 'Meary.' Instead of saying 'this day week' he would say this day sen'nit' (for sen'night).
The independence of his character was very noticeable. As an instance: A party of twenty people, say, would be invited for a given day. Abundance of carriages would be sent to meet the trains, so that all the guests would arrive in ample time for dinner. It generally happened that some of them, not knowing the habits of the house, or some duchess or great lady who might assume that clocks were made for her and not she for clocks, would not appear in the drawing-room till a quarter of an hour after the dinner gong had sounded. If anyone did so, he or she would find that everybody else had got through soup and fish. If no one but Lady Mary had been down when dinner was announced, his Lordship would have offered his arm to his daughter, and have taken his seat at the table alone. After the first night, no one was ever late. In the morning he read prayers to the household before breakfast with the same precise punctuality.
Lady Mary Bouverie, his unmarried daughter, was the very best of hostesses. The house under her management was the perfection of comfort. She married an old and dear friend of mine, Sir James Wilde, afterwards the Judge, Lord Penzance. I was his 'best man.'
My 'Ride over the Rocky Mountains' was now published; and, as the field was a new one, the writer was rewarded, for a few weeks, with invitations to dinner, and the usual tickets