1852.]

THE THATCHED HOUSE.

57

London; and as its numbers were small and limited, a place in it was much coveted in political, legal, and literary circles. My reception on my first introduction was kind and cordial. The number who met at dinner (which they did on the first Friday of every month during the sitting of Parliament) was in general from fourteen to eighteen. Politics were carefully eschewed; and as the party comprised in general that mixture of rank, distinction, and talent which forms the best basis of agreeable and instructive society, these evenings were in the highest degree agreeable. Sir R. Inglis was always in the chair as long as he lived, and after his death his place was generally taken by Mr Walpole. The Duke of Argyll and other peers were frequently present; Macaulay, Hallam, Lord Mahon, and Croly represented literature; the Chief Baron, Baron Alderson, and one or two other judges were generally present; the Attorney and Solicitor General appeared for the Bar; while Landseer, Baron Marochetti, and Copley Fielding gave to the meetings the advantage of refined taste and imagination. Of course no such réunions could be met with out of the metropolis, and the happiness of being admitted to them formed one of the most pleasing incidents of my life. The same kindly feeling caused me to be elected by acclamation a member of the Athenæum Club, which to a casual resident in London like me, was a great convenience, from its not being a party club, and from its giving its members the

advantage of splendid rooms and an extensive and admirably selected library.

Lord Derby's administration at this time, as is well known, was but of short duration. It came to an end in the winter following, in consequence of a majority against Ministers of nineteen on the question of extending the house-tax to houses between £10 and £20, which had hitherto been exempted from that burden. From the first moment that the proposal was broached in the House of Commons by Mr Disraeli, I felt assured it would make shipwreck of the administration. The reason was obvious: it was perfectly just, and proposed only to remove an unfair exemption. But that was an exemption in favour of the labour class, to whom the Reform Bill had given the command of the State; and there is nothing to which a dominant party cling with such tenacity as to an exemption in their own favour. In proposing the repeal of this exemption, Mr Disraeli fell into the same error into which Lord Grey had fallen in introducing the Reform Bill; and that was an over-estimate of the virtue and disinterestedness of the middle class of society. The more I reflect on this subject the more am I convinced that this error is the root of most of the pernicious changes and absurd institutions which have been introduced into the world during the last seventy years, and that till the general delusion on this subject is dispelled by experience, all attempts to establish lasting peace and tranquillity in the

1852.]

HORNBY CASTLE.

59

world, or to secure the blessing of real freedom to the nation, will prove unavailing.

On returning from London on this occasion, I paid a very interesting visit of some days to the Duke and Duchess of Leeds, at their venerable mansion of Hornby Castle, in Yorkshire. Like Raby, it is a most interesting relic of the feudal ages, and is preserved in a style which completely carries you back to the olden time. The approach to it is for some miles through a wild chase, overrun with gigantic hollies and thorns, the native growth of the place. The castle is an ancient structure, of great extent, though of no great height, and with no change in the interior since the days of the Plantagenets. The drawing-room is still the old hall of the castle, a room of great size and height, and now adorned with all the elegance of modern furniture. The Duke and Duchess, whose kindness was as great as possible, took us a most interesting expedition to Middlemas Castle, the seat of the great and powerful family of the Nevilles, and the scene of the love passages between Richard Duke of York and Warwick's daughter, which have been immortalised in Bulwer's 'Last of the Barons.' Thence we went to Bolton Castle, a noble ruin, farther up towards the elevated moor which separates Yorkshire from Lancashire, and the scene for some time of Queen Mary's captivity. These interesting ruins carried me back for a brief period, amidst the din and strife of modern interests, to the ideas and the contests of feudal times.

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CHAPTER XIV.

FROM THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S FUNERAL IN 1852, TO THE DEPARTURE OF MY SONS TO THE CRIMEA IN 1854.

NOVEMBER 1852-NOVEMBER 1854.

was

THE winter of 1852-53 began with a melancholy but highly interesting spectacle: this was the funeral of the Duke of Wellington, who had died in the middle of September, at Walmer Castle in Kent, and was interred in London, with a public funeral, on the 18th November following. Fortunately Aat home at the latter time on leave, and we at once resolved to go up to London to witness the ceremony. Nothing could exceed the magnificence and solemn interest of the spectacle. The body, which had been embalmed and brought up from Walmer Castle some days previously, lay in state for five days before in a chapelle ardente provided for the occasion in Chelsea Hospital. Some hundred thousand persons during these days went to pay their last respects to the hallowed remains; and so great was the throng, that from the gate of Chelsea Park where you entered, to the door of the Hospital, eigh

1852-1854.] DUKE OF WELLINGTON'S FUNERAL.

61

teen barricades were erected, to break the pressure of the crowd, each of which could be passed only by long patience and with no small exertion of physical strength. The morning which ushered in the eventful day was dark and showery, but the sun broke out as the minute-guns began to be discharged, to announce that the procession had begun from the Horse Guards, whither the body had been brought the night before. It moved slowly through the Park, up Constitution Hill, along Piccadilly to the head of St James's Street, and thence by St James's Palace and along Pall Mall, through Trafalgar Square to the Strand, and thence by Fleet Street to St Paul's. An innumerable crowd lined the streets the whole way that the procession passed: seats in a favourable situation were sold for a guinea each. It was estimated that at least 1,500,000 persons were assembled along the line. The Queen and all the Court were at the windows of St James's Palace. The coffin was borne aloft on a gigantic car, overshadowed by lofty sable plumes. On the top of the coffin were the uniform, hat, and sword of the deceased; behind it followed his led charger, with the stirrups reversed and crossed over the saddle. When the mournful cortège appeared in sight, every head was uncovered: and as it crossed Waterloo Place, where we were stationed at a window in the Athenæum Club, the whole street up to the Quadrant was like a sea of bare heads, and there were few dry eyes.