After luncheon, a short walk over one of Surrey's most beautiful hills brought us to the haven of our desires. Here, nestled under the shade of hill and foliage, stood Flint Cottage, the charming but unpretentious residence of Friar George Meredith.
Above the house stands the Châlet, the workshop of the great novelist, eloquent in its stillness and solitude. In this Châlet many of his masterpieces have been written.
Every one at some period in their lives has probably experienced that extreme tension of feelings when they are about to realize that which a vivid imagination has created and built up until it has become a veritable brain picture.
We entered the grounds surrounding Flint Cottage, passing in single file along the paths of a well-kept garden to a rustic seat in a small meadow-like enclosure where the great novelist sat. With a hearty shake of the hand as each visitor was introduced and a cheery word of greeting to many an old friend, we passed before our host, then stood about in groups or sat buoyantly expectant of what was to follow.
While waiting for the sound of a voice that will never be forgotten, time was given to reflect upon our first impression of the man whose name is honoured wherever English literature is known or read. To the mind which admires all that is great inthe world of reality or imagination, it almost savours of sacrilege to attempt to describe or analyse that which one looks up to and venerates. It is therefore with the greatest humility that reference is here made to that lofty embodied intelligence which until then had been known only through the medium of George Meredith's writings.
Judging from appearances, the world-renowned novelist was quite an ordinary-looking man of between sixty and seventy years of age. He was dressed in a dark blue holiday suit, with a red tie, and held a grey wideawake hat in his hand. His white but luxuriant hair partly covered a high and noble forehead, which indexed a striking and characteristic personality. All these details, however, were the outside man. It was when he began to talk that our attention became riveted, for in the deep resonant flexibility of his voice one became almost electrified. Its penetration,as it conveyed the measured periods of the speaker, immediately attracted attention, and a hush of expectancy stole over the listening company. Early in the proceedings, Prior Robert Leighton read the following address:
"Friar George Meredith,—We, members of the Whitefriars Club and our friends, are gratefully conscious of the honour you accord to us in permitting us a second time to call upon you here at your home. Be assured we come to you to-day not with any feeling approaching vulgar curiosity to invade and peep within the sanctities of your chosen seclusion. We come with the reverence of pilgrims journeying to a hallowed shrine; content if you do but allow us to enter at your gates to offer you our respectful homage, to take your hand and listen for some moments to the living voice of one to whom we individually and the world in general owe so much.
"The work that you have done hasbecome a part of English life and of our own personal lives. It represents the highest blossom of the tree of civilization, and it has come to mean so much that to-day no man or woman can attain to a maturity of culture without having absorbed your teaching and your spirit. You have taught us to appreciate everything that is good in life, enhancing its sparkle and flavour. You have sharpened our wits, polished our manners, advanced our happiness by widening our comprehension. You have given us a new perception of the social structure, and especially have you given us a key to the maze and mystery of women's souls.
"You yourself, sir, in your splendid solitude, can hardly apprehend what the name of George Meredith means to the best intelligences of your era. It is a name honoured and venerated above all titles, signifying to us, your disciples, the sum of all your imaginative genius and your noble example have conferred. We, men andwomen alike, who are privileged to see you to-day, are sensible of the added understanding which comes of personal association with you, and we shall remember the privilege as one of the most cherished benefits of our lives."
Friar George Meredith said: "I cannot rise, but I wish to speak and say: Ladies and Gentlemen, after a shower of honey from the busiest bees of the bees around me, my wings are clogged, and I cannot fly. I have no words to thank you. But look at the tops of those trees: from that short height the measure of us is seen to be pretty equal. Each does his work in his own way. I find so many people in different walks that can do what I cannot do. Respect is a very great thing, but I think we are in the habit of falling into a kind of delirium in regard to men who after seventy years or more have made a name. We take them as brandy—(laughter)—it is better to make a kind of dilution, and therefore Imix a considerable amount of water with your compliments. (Laughter.) However, I thank you heartily for coming to see me. If I had the eloquence of that true Irishman, Mr. T.P. O'Connor, I should be making an impression now—(laughter)—but I am only half Irish—half Irish and half Welsh—I halt therefore rather on one leg. The Welsh are admirable singers, but bad dancers. Mr. O'Connor would say not only the words most appropriate, but his language would flow on, and you would not be able to stop him. (Laughter.) I have not that gift, I can only thank you for your kindness. (Loud applause.)"
Some of the visitors left their host to visit the Châlet, which, judging from its dusty appearance, now rarely received a visit from its master. This literary workshop consists of two rooms, one for work and the other for rest and refreshment. The former contained a well-selected library of English and foreign books, all exhibitingthe appearance of having been well used. Brockhaus's Great Lexicon was a prominent feature in the library, which also contained first editions of several of Meredith's own books and various autograph presentation works from some of his literary friends. On the writing table there were many well-used quill pens and scraps of MS., which to the relic hunter were objects of great temptation, but reverence forbad sacrilege. Through fear of our tiring a body which Nature has made far too weak for such a mind, the pilgrimage had to be brought to an early close, so with minds stimulated and trying to hold some of the wise thoughts and expressions which had fallen from the great novelist's lips, we returned to our hotel.
After the tea provided by our always practical secretary, a few short and thoughtful speeches were delivered by the Prior, Sir William Treloar and the Rev. W.J. Dawson; then, with cordial farewells andthose pleasing amenities which help so much in making such outings as these doubly enjoyable, we journeyed back to the station and to town. So ended what to others beside myself will always be remembered as one of the red-letter days of our lives.
Another delightful outing was to Colchester and Constable's country. There, we were not entertained with "Oysters and Erings Roots," but with the historical memorials for which this town and district are famous. After going over the Abbey, the Town Hall, and admiring the four bronze Ravens which are supposed to be relics of the tenth century, we drove through the Constable country, visiting "The Vale of Dedham," passing the Elizabethan Grammar School where John Constable was educated, "Willy Lotts House" and "Flatford Mill." During another summer, our journey was to the Dickens country. After alighting at Sole Street station andvisiting the Leather Bottle, with its numerous Dickens relics, and Cobham Church, we drove to Rochester and lunched at the celebrated Bull Hotel, so humorously associated with Mr. Winkle. Later on in the day we visited the Cathedral and Dean Hole's delightful garden of roses.
The House of the Seven Poor Travellers fascinated us greatly, as here we were shown Dickens' signature when he spent the night getting material for his Christmas story of the "Seven Poor Travellers." We also inspected the outbuildings in which he and the other travellers slept. Among other journeys of very great interest, was one by train to Oxford and from thence by boat up the Thames to Goring: the scenery through which we passed is well known for its bewildering beauty.
Most interesting to me, as I happened to be at the time the Hon. Secretary, was our pilgrimage to Hatfield House. Upon arriving at Hatfield House and beingreceived with a kindly shake of the hand by the Countess of Salisbury, she showed us through the rooms in which are located many wonderful historical treasures. More especially to be admired was the collection of arms, many of which had been captured from the Spanish Armada. The great library and the wonderful pictures by Holbein, Van Dyck, Reynolds, and others, fascinated us all, but perhaps the most interesting were the various relics connected with Queen Elizabeth: the oak-tree under which she was seated when the news came of Queen Mary's death and of her own accession to the throne; the cradle once occupied by Elizabeth; and a pair of her silk stockings, and a garden bonnet which she wore when walking in the surrounding woods.
On leaving Hatfield House we drove over to St. Albans, where we visited the old and delightful Cathedral, rich in its historical associations, and, after an enjoyable dinner at one of the hotels, returned home with minds full of the events which have helped to make the greatness of England.
I might mention other delightful "outings" and events, but those which I have given show the many fascinating episodes associated with the Whitefriars Club.
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