XXVI HIS PLATE 51 to sell it. I took it to a silversmith's in the Strand, or rather got 1887 them to send some one to see it; he said it was very good, but of Aet. 51 a period (1836) now out of fashion. "There is one especial test of respectability in plate," he remarked; we seldom find it but, when we do, we consider it the most correct thing and the best guarantee of solid prosperity that anything in plate can give. When there is a silver venison dish we know that the plate comes from an owner of the very highest respectability." My grandfather had a silver venison dish. On the night the plate came to Clifford's Inn, the porter and I unpacked it in the cellar where we put it for safety. The cellar was dark and, as we only had one candle, we must have looked like a couple of burglars counting our swag. I, particularly, had a guilty feeling because a good many people told me I ought not to sell the plate at all-they said I ought to keep it, out of respect for my grandfather's memory. People will talk like this and it made me uncomfortable, though I did not mean paying any attention to what they said. While we were unpacking it, or repacking it, I forget which, I saw a dilapidated old book lying on the knifeboard with a blacking bottle on it and an old tin tallow candlestick. I knew there was something in the book that made it go in counterpoint with the surroundings, so I took the blacking bottle off it and opened it. It was an early copy of my grandfather's Atlas of Ancient and Modern Geography. I dare say it may be thought that I invented this; I can only say that I did not, and indeed could not invent anything so perfectly in keeping with itself. But it frightened me. P.S. [Added after the publication of The Life and Letters of Dr. Samuel Butler.] When I wrote the above, I knew nothing about my grandfather except that he had been a great schoolmaster-and I did not like schoolmasters; and then a bishopand I did not like bishops; and that he was supposed to be like my father. Of course when I got hold of his papers, I saw what he was and fell head over ears in love with him. Had I known then what I know now, I do not think I could have sold the plate; but it was much better that I should, and I have raised a far better monument to his memory than ever the plate was. Under his father's will Butler became entitled for life to a farm at Harnage near Shrewsbury, and the looking after this provided him with much employment of a new and interesting nature. At Harnage Dr. Butler used to raise meat and vegetables for the boys at Shrewsbury 52 A MAN OF PROPERTY XXVI 1887 School, and by good management this was one of the Aet. 51 sources of the fortune he made. By the joint operation of his grandfather's will and the subsequent dealings with the property Butler, on the death of his father, became absolutely entitled in possession, subject to the mortgage he had made, to the Whitehall fields which, as pasture, had been bringing in only a nominal rent, but were now ripe for building. Much of his time. was taken up in consulting with surveyors and solicitors as to the best way of developing the property. He paid off the mortgage, and a scheme for development which should interfere as little as possible with the mansion house, in which his cousin Archdeacon Lloyd lived, was agreed upon. Roads were made and the land was divided into plots which were gradually sold. In June we stayed for a few days at Church Stretton and went over to Shrewsbury, partly to see about the sale of this land and partly to be present at the School concert, where, by the kindness of the headmaster and Mr. Hay, the music master, some of the music of Narcissus was performed by the boys. It appears from the letter to Mr. Hay of 14th July 1887 (post) that we must have left some of our music behind. Not long afterwards we had another opportunity of hearing our music, when most of the choruses of Narcissus were sung through at the house of Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Layton by friends of theirs with a piano accompaniment. Mr. Thomas Layton was a partner of Sir Thomas Paine to whom I had been articled. On our way back from Shrewsbury we spent a day at Kenilworth, and Butler took me into the church and showed me the family monuments with their epitaphs in the "Butlers' Pantry.' He also introduced me to Mrs. Henry Butler, the widow of Dr. Butler's cousin, William Henry Butler (ante, I. p. 4). She was still living in the Stone House and we lunched with her. At Shrewsbury we had seen Mr. Blunt, a chemist on the Wyle Cop, who was much interested in Life and Habit. A correspondence ensued of which I only find this letter: XXVI THE ESSENCE OF CHRISTIANITY 53 Butler to Mr. Blunt. 5 July 1887-Do you-does any man of science-believe that 1887 the present orthodox faith can descend many generations longer Aet. 51 without modification? Do I-does any free-thinker who has the ordinary feelings of an Englishman-doubt that the main idea underlying and running through the ordinary orthodox faith is substantially sound? That there is an unseen life and unseen kingdom which is not of this world, and that the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God; that the life we live here is much but, at the same time, small as compared with another larger life in which we all share though, while here, we can know little if anything about it; that there is an omnipresent Being into whose presence none can enter and from whose presence none can escape-an ineffable contradiction in terms (as I have said in Luck or Cunning ?); that the best are still unprofitable servants and that the wisest are still children-who that is in his senses can doubt these things? And surely they are more the essence of Christianity than a belief that Jesus Christ died, rose from the dead, and ascended visibly into heaven. Technically and according to the letter of course they are not. According to the spirit I firmly believe they are. Tell me that Jesus Christ died upon the Cross, and I find not one tittle of evidence worthy of the name to support the assertion. Tell me that therefore we are to pull down the Church and turn everyone to his own way, and I reject this as fully as I reject the other. I want the Church as much as I want free-thought; but I want the Church to pull her letter more up to date or else to avow more frankly that her letter is a letter only. If she would do this I, for one, would not quarrel with her. Unfortunately, things do not seem moving in the direction in which I would gladly see them go and do all in my power to help them go. Butler to Mr. Hay. 14 July 1887-It's all right about the parts-we ought to have seized them and shall know better another time. They are easily re-written as we have the score. I am, and so is Jones, exceedingly sorry that we have got you into being attacked by Mr. Moss. He is a very good fellow, but we cannot expect a University swell to know anything about art or music. I am sure Athaliah is quite as comic as Narcissus is. Besides I have heard your good uncle play "Là ci darem" in St. Mary's 54 NEW ITALIAN BOOK XXVI 1887 Church as a voluntary in the middle of the service. I remember Aet. 51 it exceedingly well and no one in those days gave him or herself any bally airs about it. I don't suppose they would mind playing the people out with the Wedding March from the Midsummer Night's Dream even now-at any rate your uncle often did it. However, we are exceedingly sorry we are always getting ourselves and our friends into some scrape-at least when we deal with dons and uneducated people of that description. Alps and Sanctuaries was known in Varallo, and especially the sentence in the preface apologising for publishing a work professing to deal with the sanctuaries of Piedmont and saying so little about the most important of them all "Varallo requires a work to itself; I must therefore hope to return to it on another occasion." We were at Varallo in August 1887, and Dionigi Negri did all he could to force Butler to carry out his intention of writing a book about the Sacro Monte. H. F. Jones to Charles Gogin. ALBERGO CROCE BIANCA, VARALLO SESIA. 30 Aug., 1887. DEAR GOGIN-Butler told me yesterday that I might write to you so I am doing it. He is up the Sacro Monte writing. He calls it taking a holiday, but really he has been making great progress with a new Italian book which is to run this place and Gaudenzio Ferrari. He has got some lovely things in the book. There is another man who did statues up here, Tabachetti, who is also to be run. On the other hand Varallo is running Butler, for we are to go to a banquet given in his honour on Thursday at the Albergo on top of the mountain, and he says we shall probably be kissed. To-morrow we are going with Dionigi Negri to the vineyards, and it will be like the day at the Cantine in Alps and Sanctuaries-at least we think so. I am enjoying myself very much and doing as nearly nothing as possible. On Sunday we went to Civiasco, a village in the mountains, and it was a festa, San Gottardo the Saint of the Church; and the people had brought offerings of butter (large round lumps), eggs, cheeses, cakes (great round flat ones with patterns on their backs), wine, nuts, biscuits, bacon, etc. These were to be sold after Vespers by auction and the money given to the Church-or rather taken by the priests; we could not stay to see the sale, but we saw the procession and helped to carry the Madonna out of the church all down the village to a chapel where they reposed XXVI A BUGGY BAND 55 her. She also rested four times by the way on tables put for her 1887 reception covered with cloths, and on the cloths flowers were Aet. 51 strewn. There was a band also, brass and two clarinets and a flute, and it might have played better-it was buggy1; it might also have chosen less frivolous music, but the Madonna's taste in music is rudimentary; she likes waltzes and such things. The same band played in the church to accompany the Mass and Vespers. We lunched at the inn of La Martina, a large, jolly, middle-aged person. Dionigi Negri told us that in her youth she was "generosa." It has done her a great deal of good, and she is an example of its being more blessed to give than to receive (she has received a good deal, however). When we were at Fusio it was the festa of San Rocco, and we helped to carry him down the road and back to his place in church. We think it is good for our morals to carry saints now and then. Butler says it is the great principle of change, and the change is certainly complete. The new book is also to contain other things besides Varallo. There is a lovely votive picture at Civiasco of a man who was passing the Albergo del Falcone at Barcelona, in Spain, when a cannon ball from the battery across the river came and made his nose bleed. To prove the truth of the statement a piece of the cannon ball is hung beside the picture. San Gottardo prevented its doing further damage. Do not trouble to write, but if you have anything you want to say we should receive a letter sent to Hotel Mont Blanc, Aosta, Italy. We go there on Friday and shall take two days to get there and shall stay there two days, so far as we can tell; if you do not write there well within a week, the next place to be sure of catching us is Hotel Grotta Crimea, Chiavenna, Italy. We should like to know how you are, and we hope you are better. We hope your mother is going on all right. We do not know when we shall get to Chiavenna nor how long we shall stay there. Russell Cooke is to join us there and I am to come home from there. I am to be home by 22 Sept. Butler will stay longer. Tabachetti did some things at Crea, somewhere down near Alessandria, and he wants to go and inspect them. We are a little nervous about our vineyards to-morrow. In the first place, we have to start by the train leaving here at 4.58 A.M., and that is early. In the next place it is certain they will try, and almost certain they will succeed in making us drunk and then-well, you never can be certain what you may do when you are drunk; besides Butler says he can't write unless he keeps sober, which seems reasonable; but I daresay we shall pull through somehow. Butler is very good and behaves like an angel. All 1 Gogin lived opposite St. Pancras Church in the Euston Road. One of the bells was out of tune and he used to say it was like the smell of a bug. |