Page images
PDF
EPUB

102 miles in one day in hired conveyances appears no inconsiderable feat for a man of over 61 years of age.

During the following year, 1827, Mr. Humfrey made another extensive driving tour through England, travelling 1,008 miles. His diary records the distances travelled, the towns through which he passed, the hotels at which he stopped, with comments upon the accommodation provided at each inn. By some odd chance, time, which destroys so remorselessly human records, has spared nearly all the hotel bills paid during this tour. From these we may glean a few items of interest as to the charges made at English inns threequarters of a century ago. Breakfast almost invariably cost 25.; dinner from 2s. to 3s. 6d., 35. being the usual charge; the price of a bedroom varies from 1s. 6d. to 35. 6d., with 6d. for lights, 1s. for waxlights, and from 6d. to 1s. for a fire. Soda water-which is only mentioned in one bill, that of the King's Head, Derby-cost 8d.; and the standard prices for wines were-6s. for sherry, 75. for port, and 9s. for Madeira, while brandy was 10s. a bottle. Waiters, chambermaids, boots, and hostlers, though generally charged for in the bill, had to be tipped upon a liberal scale, which added materially to the cost. At the foot of many of the bills Mr. Humfrey has added a note of the amounts paid in tips, which varied from 3s. to 4s. at every inn where he stopped the night. The tour of 1827 was made in his own gig and with his own horse, which cost him from 35. to 45. per night. From Dublin to Holyhead the boat charges were a guinea for what we call a first-class passage, 10s. 6d. for a servant, a guinea for the gig, with 55. "slinging money" (charge for loading); horse a guinea, and 35. 6d. "slinging money." It is curious that more should have been charged for putting a gig than a horse on board the packet.

The fashionable West End tailor does not appear to have been as expensive seventy-five years ago as he is now. Among Mr. Humfrey's papers are some bills of his tailor, Richard May, of 4 Sackville Street, Piccadilly, London. From these we learn that a superfine blue or black frock coat lined with silk cost £5. 15s., a buff or black "casemere" waistcoat £1. Is., a superfine black cloth coat £4. 16s., and a pair of "light mixed casemere pantaloons" £2. 25.

From notes made by Mr. Humfrey in 1815, during a tour to the Giant's Causeway, one or two brief extracts may be of interest. Leaving Dublin on May 15, he travelled to Castleblaney (fifty-two miles) in the Monaghan coach, from six o'clock in the morning till five, the fare being 25s. From Castleblaney he posted to Armagh, "through a wild and uncultivated country, abounding in small loughs and a continued succession of low hills." Armagh and its

environs are described as "extremely beautiful.” Built upon a hill, the town is clean, well flagged and lighted. "The cathedral stands very boldly upon an eminence, and is a conspicuous object from the surrounding country. . . . The most striking objects are the Primate's Palace and Cathedral Library, the Court House, College, Barracks, Market House, and Mall, a very beautiful and wellkept public walk."

From Armagh he went to Omagh, "a most uninteresting road through a naked, uncultivated wild. Between Omagh and Newton Stewart passed through Lord Mountjoy's demesne. It has no house, but the grounds are extensive and well wooded, though very poor in quality." The next day Baron's Court, the scat of the Marquis of Abercorn, is reached, and the visitor is delighted with the beautiful and richly wooded grounds and "the fine artificial sheet of water." But the country around is "wild and uncultivated and the soil poor." The road on to Strabane is "bleak and bad," but the country improves as Derry is approached.

From Limavady--"a clean and cheerful-looking town," Mr. Humfrey visited Downhill House, "built by Lord Bristol when Bishop of Derry. The house stands boldly over the ocean, but in a bleak and exposed situation. It contains two very handsome rooms, the principal drawing-room and library, both splendidly furnished and with great taste, the ceilings admirably painted. There are several valuable pictures, and amongst the most conspicuous a very beautiful Madonna by Raphael. But the most. valuable ornaments of these superb rooms are several antique statues and busts and beautiful vases brought from Italy by Lord Bristol. There is not probably any house in Ireland that can exhibit such a valuable collection, nor any in which the politeness and liberality of the owners for the accommodation of visitors, even to their own personal inconvenience, are so conspicuous."

In an enthusiastic description of the Giant's Causeway, Mr. Humfrey says: "This great and stupendous work of Nature has occupied the attention and excited the wonder of the ablest and most scientific men of this and other countries; but by none has the subject been investigated with more ingenuity and scientific research than by our countryman, the Rev. Dr. Hamilton, in his 'Letters Concerning the Coast of the County of Antrim.' efforts of the most enlightened philosophy have hitherto proved ineffectual for the solution of this extraordinary phenomenon. It only remains then for uninformed minds to wonder and be silent, lost in astonishment."

All

The writer of these diaries, who belonged to the branch of the Humfrey family that settled in County Carlow in 1685, was a man of singular charm of manner and sweetness of disposition. For some years he had an extensive practice at the Irish Bar, and won considerable reputation as a sound lawyer. By his descendants his memory is cherished as that of a high-minded, chivalrous gentleman, who, during an age when drinking, gambling, and debauchery were only too common among the educated classes in Ireland, lived a sober, useful life, devoted to his family and friends. Of his literary and artistic tastes many evidences still exist; while two fine miniatures of him by H. Hone, A. R.A., show him to have been an exceptionally handsome man. His wife was Anne Mary, a daughter of Elias Best of Bestfield, and Elizabeth Caulfeild, the daughter and heiress of the Honble. Toby Caulfeild, of Clone Castle, brother of the second Viscount Charlemont. Of Mr. and Mrs. John Humfrey's six children only two lived to grow up, a daughter, Lucinda Caulfeild, who married Richard Boyse Osborne, my grandfather, and Richard Fenton Humfrey, who, though he died very young, achieved some reputation as a musician and a composer. Mr. Humfrey, who died May 6, 1829, at the age of sixty-three, had his full share of sorrow in the world, as the following touching inscription, erected by him over the grave of his wife and children at Killerig, testifies :

Near this place are interred the remains of

ANNE MARY HUMFREY,

Wife of John Humfrey, of the City of Dublin, Esq., and daughter of Elias Best and Elizabeth Caulfeild, who having discharged the various duties of a daughter, a wife, and a mother with tenderness, fidelity, and affection seldom equalled, was summoned by her Heavenly Father to that blessed society for which the spotless purity of her life most eminently qualified her, on the 15th day of January, 1812, in the 50th year of her age.

In testimony of her worth, and of the affection that he bears to her memory, a justly afflicted husband has erected this monument.

Beloved of my Soul, Farewell!

Here also are interred five of their children, viz. :—
Anne Mary, born 10th June, 1794; died 8th May, 1799.
Elias Best, born 31st Aug., 1799; died 12th Nov., 1799.

John Caulfeild, born 27th April, 1790; died 2nd Dec., 1799.
Elizabeth Rebecca, born 26th May, 1792; died 5th Nov., 1802.
Richard Fenton Humfrey, their eldest and only surviving

son, born 30th Dec., 1785.

The early promise which he gave of taste and talent excited the most flattering hopes in the bosom of a fond father; but, alas! these hopes were blasted. He fell a victim to a lingering and painful disease on the 17th January, 1812, at the age of 26 years, having survived his mother only two days.

A husband and a father followed their remains to one common grave.

CHARLES C. OSBORNE.

MADAME, MONSIEUR, THE SISTER OF MONSIEUR, AND AN-NA.

A

N-NA is our fille de table. A neat little figure has An-na, a sweet Madonna face, golden hair brushed up and back, and frightened, innocent blue eyes. But I grieve to find that a serpent has entered into the soul of An-na, and inspired in her a spirit of wilfulness and naughtiness. Monsieur confides in me over our coffee, which he manufactures with great skill and loss of time. "An-na ! Ah, yes; she is impertinent. She has demanded to Madame to go home to see her mother which is ill in bed. But, think you, all at the hour arrives the sick mother by her own legs. Then An-na say : Ah, well, Madame, I give you notice of a week, and I go out one hour all the days to seek new service.' But what think you? Madame say: 'My service must be made; you cannot go out one hour, but you depart after a week.'"

So the situation is strained. An-na "makes her service" with a pretty air of injured innocence, and meekly smashes plates and breaks corks in wine-bottles.

I am not so enamoured cf Monsieur's English, or Madame's French, as is that amiable and energetic lady, the sister of Monsieur. Every day she pays us a visit, a great part of which is devoted to loud admiration of her relations' linguistic talents. Perhaps I am a little difficult to please. Madame is of English birth-shall we say perhaps from Hampstead? The French that she speaks with the domestics is suspiciously easy for me to understand, frankly free from all idiom. She talks of a neighbouring port as "Boolang." So I am driven with reluctance to disagree silently with the sister of Monsieur when she proclaims from the hearth-rug that Madame speaks French "très bien." But never will I refuse to Madame the homage due to a good and kind heart, and I sympathise with her more over An-na's enormities than over her conscientious struggles with the difficulties of French pronunciation.

The personality of Monsieur is connected in my mind with the idea of briskness, whether from the vast amount of petty business he

gets through, or from the odour of eucalyptus which he sheds prodigally round. If he could only clothe himself with idiomatic English as lavishly as he does with garments, he would be more worthy of the adoration of the sister of Monsieur. I suspect him of wearing six layers of clothing when he walks out; there may be more. I have evidence of a "guernsey," a short waterproof jacket, a pilot's coat, and a thick cloth cape. He claims a distinguished churchman for a relative, but his views are frankly utilitarian. One of the aspirants to An-na's position makes inquiries as to the opportunities for attending Mass. "Ah, well, that is your affair. This is Liberty 'All. You make my service, then you do what you please." Monsieur owns to great difficulty with the English aspirate, and cuts the knot by ignoring it altogether. This does not as a rule lead to serious complications, except in the case of a story concerning the Scotch Islands or 'Ighlands. Monsieur is scientific, and takes much interest in the lifeboat and all its works, in the rocket apparatus, and in mechanical toys, over the explanations whereof we mutually suffer, I from a total ignorance of mechanics, he from insufficiency of technical English. After dinner, in the evenings, he works out formulæ, and casts up his accounts aloud. The latter are very minutely kept, and include disbursements (generally reckoned by the modest sou) for "pain, poisson, tabac, journaux, tramway," and so forth. Monsieur is a victim to yawning. His efforts generally end in a vocal "Ah, ah." With the polite desire to conceal the fact that he has yawned, or possibly to amuse his friends, he always proceeds with "bè, bè ; cè, cè; dè, dè," as if seizing the opportunity to polish up his alphabet. I may add, for the credit of his friends, that they are neither deceived nor amused.

I have not arrived at the name of the sister of Monsieur. She either has not got one or it is something improper. Madame says it is too hard to pronounce; I think Monsieur has forgotten it. The sister of Monsieur is a stout little lady, extremely vivacious and steadfastly engaged in the pursuit of slaying time. When she has expatiated for an afternoon on Madame's French, Monsieur's English, and An-na's enormities, she turns to the clock with an anticipatory air of disapproval, and, in triumphant condemnation of the slowness of Time, tells us that it is an hour earlier than she thought. The life of the sister of Monsieur has not been all sunshine. Within a year her husband and her son, her only child, were torn from her, and lie in foreign graves. Poor soul! she dare not look back; and slowly indeed do the hours pass until she is reunited to her beloved

ones.

« EelmineJätka »