Heavitree,May 23, 1844.As your Excellency is naturally a studier of human character, I think you will be edified by beholding me in a new phase, that of Church-building and drawing up reports thereanent; so I enclose you the particulars.Mrs. Ford and myself are about to quit these bemyrtled bowers on Monday next: we proceed to Eton, where my son and heir is to figure in the Montem Saturnalia, in a red coat, cocked hat and sword, and to be brought back,—oh sight painful to parents! drunk in a wheelbarrow. There is nothing like spending £250 a year in giving one’s boy a liberal good education. Hawtrey has bidden us to the feastings which he gives to sundry Papas and Mamas.Handbookis slowly printing. TheMañanaof Spain has infected even Albemarle Street; but we have got well to page 264 of Vol. I.The rail is now open, and Exeter is 7-1/2 hours from London. We hope some day that you andmi Señora(c.p.b.) may be tempted to come and see us and the New Church.I have been suffering from influenza in common with almost everybody. The bright sun and cold north-east winds remind me of Madrid.
Heavitree,May 23, 1844.
As your Excellency is naturally a studier of human character, I think you will be edified by beholding me in a new phase, that of Church-building and drawing up reports thereanent; so I enclose you the particulars.
Mrs. Ford and myself are about to quit these bemyrtled bowers on Monday next: we proceed to Eton, where my son and heir is to figure in the Montem Saturnalia, in a red coat, cocked hat and sword, and to be brought back,—oh sight painful to parents! drunk in a wheelbarrow. There is nothing like spending £250 a year in giving one’s boy a liberal good education. Hawtrey has bidden us to the feastings which he gives to sundry Papas and Mamas.
Handbookis slowly printing. TheMañanaof Spain has infected even Albemarle Street; but we have got well to page 264 of Vol. I.
The rail is now open, and Exeter is 7-1/2 hours from London. We hope some day that you andmi Señora(c.p.b.) may be tempted to come and see us and the New Church.
I have been suffering from influenza in common with almost everybody. The bright sun and cold north-east winds remind me of Madrid.
But Ford was not at the end of his labours. The first edition of the Handbook was cancelled, in deference to Addington’s advice, at a cost to Ford of £500 and the toil of re-writing a considerable portion of the work.
Sept. 26, 1844.Visions of Joinville, Narvaez, and the Pope breaking Murray’s presses andécrase-ing my head have haunted me since your letter. Alas! alas! the Preface which you condemn is drawn very mild, and was written purposely tosoftenmore severe castigations on events, historians, and nationalities. What is a man to do who wishes to write the truth, when, at every step in Spain, he meets a French ruin, and, at every page in a Spanish or French book, a libel against us?I have told thetruth. I wish I had not. I have, however, said nothing more than Southey, Napier, Schepeler[50], and the Duke. But I am quite averse to getting into hot water or ill words, and must reconsider the subject, and either cancel much,or make complimentaryamendes honorablesin the subsequent sheets.My spouse thinks with you, and I have such a high opinion of you as a man of the world and of sound judgment, and know you to be so kind, true, and good a friend, that I am now going to write to Murray.
Sept. 26, 1844.
Visions of Joinville, Narvaez, and the Pope breaking Murray’s presses andécrase-ing my head have haunted me since your letter. Alas! alas! the Preface which you condemn is drawn very mild, and was written purposely tosoftenmore severe castigations on events, historians, and nationalities. What is a man to do who wishes to write the truth, when, at every step in Spain, he meets a French ruin, and, at every page in a Spanish or French book, a libel against us?
I have told thetruth. I wish I had not. I have, however, said nothing more than Southey, Napier, Schepeler[50], and the Duke. But I am quite averse to getting into hot water or ill words, and must reconsider the subject, and either cancel much,or make complimentaryamendes honorablesin the subsequent sheets.
My spouse thinks with you, and I have such a high opinion of you as a man of the world and of sound judgment, and know you to be so kind, true, and good a friend, that I am now going to write to Murray.
At first Ford hoped that he could substitute for the objectionable passages artistic or antiquarian information. In December 1844 he writes to Addington that already four sheets (i.e.64 pages) had been cancelled. He adds that “we are all in a snowy surplice.” This description of a snowstorm was suggested by the attempt of the Bishop of Exeter to do away with the black gown, and by the excitement which the step had created in Exeter. He refers to the subject in a letter dated January 20th, 1845.
Heavitree,Jan. 26, /45.I enclose you a very characteristic letter from Don Jorge [Borrow], which please to return. It would be well if he could allay the evil spirit that is broken loose here; the flocks are rising against the shepherds, more like wolves than lambs. The thing is much more serious, and lies deeper than many imagine; it is nomobaffair. The entire mass of the middling classes and rich tradesmen are the leaders; the lower and better classes standaloof. The disquieted are not only urged by a violent, no-popery, protestant feeling, but by a democratic element, probably unknown to themselves, which resists dignities and anything, even a surplice, being dictated to them. The mob, the real [Greek: polykephalon], is quiet, having work and cheap food. The gentry attach no importance to the black or white vesture, nor do their clergy ever, in fact, rule them. But with the middling, and a numerous, class, these clerical crotchets are not shadows, but realities and dangers. The church coach will be upset, unless great temper and management be shown (and that willnotbe shown); the dissentients are ripe for a free church. Philpotti has been considerably in the wrong; he would have made a splendid Hildebrand or Loyola, but the age of railroads and steam will smash mitres and tracts. The war of opinions which has been now raged for ten years is coming to a crisis. I take our tradesmen in Exeter to be types of those throughout England, and Foolometers; and as they have acted, so will all their like. The train is laid, and a spark may ignite it.
Heavitree,Jan. 26, /45.
I enclose you a very characteristic letter from Don Jorge [Borrow], which please to return. It would be well if he could allay the evil spirit that is broken loose here; the flocks are rising against the shepherds, more like wolves than lambs. The thing is much more serious, and lies deeper than many imagine; it is nomobaffair. The entire mass of the middling classes and rich tradesmen are the leaders; the lower and better classes standaloof. The disquieted are not only urged by a violent, no-popery, protestant feeling, but by a democratic element, probably unknown to themselves, which resists dignities and anything, even a surplice, being dictated to them. The mob, the real [Greek: polykephalon], is quiet, having work and cheap food. The gentry attach no importance to the black or white vesture, nor do their clergy ever, in fact, rule them. But with the middling, and a numerous, class, these clerical crotchets are not shadows, but realities and dangers. The church coach will be upset, unless great temper and management be shown (and that willnotbe shown); the dissentients are ripe for a free church. Philpotti has been considerably in the wrong; he would have made a splendid Hildebrand or Loyola, but the age of railroads and steam will smash mitres and tracts. The war of opinions which has been now raged for ten years is coming to a crisis. I take our tradesmen in Exeter to be types of those throughout England, and Foolometers; and as they have acted, so will all their like. The train is laid, and a spark may ignite it.
Eventually Ford found that his wisest course was to withdraw the first edition of theHandbook. He writes from London, where he was laid up by somewhat serious illness, February 19th, 1845:“I have quite determined on cancellingHandbook, and reprinting itminuspolitical, military, and religious discussions, and to omit mention of disagreeables, and only make it smooth and charming.” On these lines the book was recast.
April 30, 1845.I am leading the life of a trueDevoto á la Santissima Hygeia. I sleep at Exmouth, rise at six, walk on the beach, listening to the ripple of the waves, and inhaling the morning sea-impregnated breezes. I come home to breakfast at seven; at half-past mount my steed, and come clipping over here,ganando horas, in about an hour, nine miles, and such hills! then, while hot as a horseshoe, I hiss under a shower-bath, and occupy the morning until two in Handbooky and gentle exercise of the mind. At two I dine,en famille, onrôtiand a pint of Bordeaux; after dinner is dedicated to sauntering on the terrace and listening to the gentle discourse of Mrs. Ford, when in a sweet disposition, and at other times to lectures,à laMrs. Caudle, on gastronomic excesses and consequent pains and penalties. At five I remount, and jog leisurely back again through sweet, shady, and verdurous lanes. A butter-and-egg pace favours meditation and sentiment which is akin to the season, when Nature puts on her new livery ofspring, which we can’t. Arrived at Exmouth, I again wander on the lonely shore and watch the sunsets, which are transcendental, the heaven and the earth all crimson; then I count the pretty stars as they come out coyly one by one for their evening’s pleasure,tomando el fresco. All this air andbelles penséesnaturally conduce to hunger and thirst, and at eight I sit down totwomutton chops,nada más,ni menos, and another pint of claret. Then I peruse theMorning Postof the day, and soon the gentle, oblivious style and absence of thought steal over my senses, and then to bed, to sleep sound and short, and then up again:asi gira la vida. The most pendulous uvula yields to such a bracing winding-up system:hominem sic erigo. I will duly advise you whether Don Jorge will meet me in London.
April 30, 1845.
I am leading the life of a trueDevoto á la Santissima Hygeia. I sleep at Exmouth, rise at six, walk on the beach, listening to the ripple of the waves, and inhaling the morning sea-impregnated breezes. I come home to breakfast at seven; at half-past mount my steed, and come clipping over here,ganando horas, in about an hour, nine miles, and such hills! then, while hot as a horseshoe, I hiss under a shower-bath, and occupy the morning until two in Handbooky and gentle exercise of the mind. At two I dine,en famille, onrôtiand a pint of Bordeaux; after dinner is dedicated to sauntering on the terrace and listening to the gentle discourse of Mrs. Ford, when in a sweet disposition, and at other times to lectures,à laMrs. Caudle, on gastronomic excesses and consequent pains and penalties. At five I remount, and jog leisurely back again through sweet, shady, and verdurous lanes. A butter-and-egg pace favours meditation and sentiment which is akin to the season, when Nature puts on her new livery ofspring, which we can’t. Arrived at Exmouth, I again wander on the lonely shore and watch the sunsets, which are transcendental, the heaven and the earth all crimson; then I count the pretty stars as they come out coyly one by one for their evening’s pleasure,tomando el fresco. All this air andbelles penséesnaturally conduce to hunger and thirst, and at eight I sit down totwomutton chops,nada más,ni menos, and another pint of claret. Then I peruse theMorning Postof the day, and soon the gentle, oblivious style and absence of thought steal over my senses, and then to bed, to sleep sound and short, and then up again:asi gira la vida. The most pendulous uvula yields to such a bracing winding-up system:hominem sic erigo. I will duly advise you whether Don Jorge will meet me in London.
TheHandbookwas published in the summer of 1845. Released from his labour, Ford was preparing to spend a holiday abroad, when Exeter was convulsed by a famous trial, which took place at the July assizes.
In February 1845 a Brazilian schooner named theFelicidadewas captured in the Bight of Benin by H.M.Wasp. Though fitted for the slave trade, she had no slaves on board. In charge of a prize crew she was making for Sierra Leone, when she met theEcho, a brigantine full of slaves. She captured theEcho, took on board some of thecrew as prisoners, and resumed her course. The prisoners from theEchooverpowered and killed the prize crew ofFelicidade, seized the schooner, and made off. TheFelicidade, however, was recaptured by H.M.Star. Suspicions were aroused, and ten of the prisoners were sent home to be tried for murder on the high seas. Mr. Baron Platt overruled the objections that the slave trade was not piracy by Brazilian law, and that theFelicidade, being wrongfully taken, was not a British ship. The jury found seven of the men guilty, and they were sentenced to death. An appeal was however allowed on the legal points; Platt’s decision was reversed and the prisoners released. Ford describes the trial to Addington in an undated letter of July 1845.
I will secure theWestern Times. Nothing can have been so bad as Platt, or his vulgar platitudes. The defence too, was miserable. Manning,un Burro cargado de leyes, broke down, and Collier, a young advocate,provedhis clients’ guilt, by over-examination; and what think you of a peroration like this—“Will you hang up these foreigners like ropes of onions (? ajos) and cast them then as carrion to the crows?” Mr. Godson, who came down special, made sad hash or ash with the Queen’s Alphabet: “Suppose this case Hay and B. on the ’igh seas,” etc. The facts were too clear to admit of a doubt, and seven have been foundguilty. It is a sad thing for our peaceable,unslave-dealingcity to be horrified with such a wholesale execution, and they ought to be hung on the African coast. If they arenothung, the exasperation of the cruising Jacks is so great that they willPelissierthe next slave prize to avenge their murdered comrades. A Frenchman on the jury did all he could to save the prisoners fromla perfide Albion. Anattachéalso of the Brazilian Mission was down here, abusing the witnesses in their vernacular until stopt. What think you of the Spanish and Portuguese Government refusing to pay for more than one counsel, who was chosen because a nephew of the Portuguese Consul? Thus ten men’s lives were risked to put 5 guineas in a relation’s pocket.Vaya! un empeño!Drewe was so annoyed that he retained Manning (who understands Spanish) at his own cost.I forgot to say that these Spaniards were made a regular show of by the magistrates, who gave orders by hundreds to see them in the jail, until Drewe, the High Sheriff, stopt the spectacle. The pirates thought that theyhadbeen tried, and came here expecting to be hung. One was a monstrous handsome fellow, and all the ladies are interested for him, as he realised the Corsair, while his bronzed cheek, raven locks and flashing eyescontrasted with the pudding-headed, clotted-cream, commonfaced Devonians. Another culprit was the facsimile of a monk of Zurbaran; the rest were a savage South America set. Of course nothing has occupied people here butCosas de España, and your humble servant,quasione of the gang, was at a premium and a sort of lion.
I will secure theWestern Times. Nothing can have been so bad as Platt, or his vulgar platitudes. The defence too, was miserable. Manning,un Burro cargado de leyes, broke down, and Collier, a young advocate,provedhis clients’ guilt, by over-examination; and what think you of a peroration like this—“Will you hang up these foreigners like ropes of onions (? ajos) and cast them then as carrion to the crows?” Mr. Godson, who came down special, made sad hash or ash with the Queen’s Alphabet: “Suppose this case Hay and B. on the ’igh seas,” etc. The facts were too clear to admit of a doubt, and seven have been foundguilty. It is a sad thing for our peaceable,unslave-dealingcity to be horrified with such a wholesale execution, and they ought to be hung on the African coast. If they arenothung, the exasperation of the cruising Jacks is so great that they willPelissierthe next slave prize to avenge their murdered comrades. A Frenchman on the jury did all he could to save the prisoners fromla perfide Albion. Anattachéalso of the Brazilian Mission was down here, abusing the witnesses in their vernacular until stopt. What think you of the Spanish and Portuguese Government refusing to pay for more than one counsel, who was chosen because a nephew of the Portuguese Consul? Thus ten men’s lives were risked to put 5 guineas in a relation’s pocket.Vaya! un empeño!Drewe was so annoyed that he retained Manning (who understands Spanish) at his own cost.
I forgot to say that these Spaniards were made a regular show of by the magistrates, who gave orders by hundreds to see them in the jail, until Drewe, the High Sheriff, stopt the spectacle. The pirates thought that theyhadbeen tried, and came here expecting to be hung. One was a monstrous handsome fellow, and all the ladies are interested for him, as he realised the Corsair, while his bronzed cheek, raven locks and flashing eyescontrasted with the pudding-headed, clotted-cream, commonfaced Devonians. Another culprit was the facsimile of a monk of Zurbaran; the rest were a savage South America set. Of course nothing has occupied people here butCosas de España, and your humble servant,quasione of the gang, was at a premium and a sort of lion.
Success of theHandbook—Gatherings from Spain—Illness and Death of his Wife—Marriage with Miss Mary Molesworth—Telbin’s “Diorama of the Duke of Wellington’s Campaigns”—Francis Clare Ford and the Diplomatic Service—Death of Sir William Molesworth—Failing Health—Marriage of Clare Ford—Last Article in theQuarterly Review, and Last Letter to Addington—Death at Heavitree, August 31st, 1858.
Success of theHandbook—Gatherings from Spain—Illness and Death of his Wife—Marriage with Miss Mary Molesworth—Telbin’s “Diorama of the Duke of Wellington’s Campaigns”—Francis Clare Ford and the Diplomatic Service—Death of Sir William Molesworth—Failing Health—Marriage of Clare Ford—Last Article in theQuarterly Review, and Last Letter to Addington—Death at Heavitree, August 31st, 1858.
“SinceJuly” (Ford writes to Don Pascual Gayangos at Madrid, November 27th, 1845) “I have been wandering with my son in Germany, and have visited those mighty rivers, the Rhine and the Danube, and beheld the temples and frescoes of Munich.”
“SinceJuly” (Ford writes to Don Pascual Gayangos at Madrid, November 27th, 1845) “I have been wandering with my son in Germany, and have visited those mighty rivers, the Rhine and the Danube, and beheld the temples and frescoes of Munich.”
He returned to England to find that theHandbookwas succeeding beyond his own or his publisher’s expectations. In spite of its price, print, and double columns, 1389 copies were sold in three months, and a second edition was already talkedof. The book had, in fact, created a sensation. Under its unpretending title it gave a description of Spain, past and present, which no other man living, foreigner or native, could have produced. Men who knew the country intimately, such as Lord Clarendon, Prescott, George Borrow, and Washington Irving, were as enthusiastic as they were unanimous in its praise. “Surely never was there,” wrote Prescott, “since Humboldt’s book on Mexico, such an amount of information, historical, critical, topographical, brought together in one view, and that in the unpretending form of aManuel du Voyageur.” Lockhart saw in theHandbook“the work of a most superior workman,—master of more tools than almost anyone in these days pretends to handle,” and he found in its pages “the combination of keen observation and sterling sense with learningà laBurton and pleasantryà laMontaigne.” The book, in fact, took, and still holds, its place among the best books of travel in the English language. Few writers even now can touch on Spanish subjects without owing or acknowledging a deep debt to Ford. Nor was his work merely a guidebook to a particular country; it is a guidebook to all travellers, wherever they might be, from its infectious capacity for enjoyment and the richness and variety of its interests.
The letter to Gayangos, quoted above, was written on Ford’s way back from Oxford, where that learned Spaniard had once hoped to obtain a Professorship.
I am but just returned from Oxford, where I spent ten days. The minds of the young men are perplexed withPuseyismo y la Santa Iglesia Catholica y Romana. That evil, and a tremendous habit of smoking cigars, seem to be thefeaturesof the place, and perplex the tutors and heads of colleges.
I am but just returned from Oxford, where I spent ten days. The minds of the young men are perplexed withPuseyismo y la Santa Iglesia Catholica y Romana. That evil, and a tremendous habit of smoking cigars, seem to be thefeaturesof the place, and perplex the tutors and heads of colleges.
Among the Addington correspondence is a letter, written November 25th, 1845, from Oxford itself:—
Oxford,Nov. 25, /45.I propose leaving this learned city on Monday, and am about to spend a week in Park Street, to settle some law matters for my mother. This is the moment which is big with fate for the Montanches Porkers, and I am about to write to Don Juan to forward to me my annual adventure ofJamones. How do you feel disposed?This Oxford is indeed changed since my time. The youths drink toast and water and fast on Wednesdays and Fridays. They have somewhat of a priggish, macerated look;der Puseyismushas spread far among the rising generation of fellows of colleges. Pusey, the arch-heretic, has indeed the true Jesuit look. I sang an anthem out of his book andwithhim last Sunday, having been placed in a stall at Christ Church between him and Gaisford of Greek fame; but I have not yetjoined Rome, being still rather of the school of the æsthetics than of the ascetics.
Oxford,Nov. 25, /45.
I propose leaving this learned city on Monday, and am about to spend a week in Park Street, to settle some law matters for my mother. This is the moment which is big with fate for the Montanches Porkers, and I am about to write to Don Juan to forward to me my annual adventure ofJamones. How do you feel disposed?
This Oxford is indeed changed since my time. The youths drink toast and water and fast on Wednesdays and Fridays. They have somewhat of a priggish, macerated look;der Puseyismushas spread far among the rising generation of fellows of colleges. Pusey, the arch-heretic, has indeed the true Jesuit look. I sang an anthem out of his book andwithhim last Sunday, having been placed in a stall at Christ Church between him and Gaisford of Greek fame; but I have not yetjoined Rome, being still rather of the school of the æsthetics than of the ascetics.
Literary work was resumed. A second edition of theHandbookhad to be prepared. Articles were written for theQuarterly Reviewon such varied subjects as “Spanish Architecture,” “Spanish Painting,” “The Horse’s Foot,” “Spanish Lady’s Love.” In 1846 appeared hisGatherings from Spain, consisting partly of the introductory essays to theHandbook, partly of new material. The book was brought out at lightning speed.
I am glad (he writes to Addington, December 1846) thatGatheringshave been deemed worthy of your perusal. The first part has indeed been knocked offcurrente calamo, and almost without my ever seeing the pages in revise. They were written against time, composed, printed, and type distributed in three weeks. This is not fair on the Author, as slips in style must inevitably occur. I have almost written a new book as to half of it.
I am glad (he writes to Addington, December 1846) thatGatheringshave been deemed worthy of your perusal. The first part has indeed been knocked offcurrente calamo, and almost without my ever seeing the pages in revise. They were written against time, composed, printed, and type distributed in three weeks. This is not fair on the Author, as slips in style must inevitably occur. I have almost written a new book as to half of it.
The success of the book was great.
TheGatheringshave taken wonderfully. All the critics praise without exception. So I have sacked £210 by two months’ work, and not damaged my literary reputation.
TheGatheringshave taken wonderfully. All the critics praise without exception. So I have sacked £210 by two months’ work, and not damaged my literary reputation.
Lockhart congratulated him warmly on the achievement. “You may,” he says (January 5th,1847), “live fifty years without turning out any more delightful thing” than theGatherings. Tho’ I had read theHandbookpretty well, I found the full zest of novelty in these Essays, and such, I think, is the nearly universal feeling. Fergusson was at Lord Clarendon’s in Herts at Christmas. Lord Clarendon said that he had had a Spanish party a few days before—all highly pleased. One said it would take, to get together the knowledge of this book, four of the most accomplished of Spaniards. ‘Ah!’ said another, ‘but where could you getonethat could put it all together in a form so readable?’ I forget their names; but they were men of mark.”
From 1846 onwards Mrs. Ford’s health became a cause of ever-increasing anxiety. Changes of climate were tried without permanent benefit. For months together Ford was separated from his library. He still wrote articles for theQuarterly Review, but he attempted no larger work. Addington had apparently urged him to write a life of the Duke of Alva. His answer shows that he felt that a different standard of historical writing was forming, and that he had neither the youth nor the freedom from other duties to satisfy the new canons of criticism.
As for Alva (he writes, December 14th, 1848), I imagine thatiron Dukewill form a prominent figure in Prescott’sPhilip II., on which he is hard at work. To write anewandrealhistory, State-paper offices, archives, and family documents mustbe consulted all over the world. Neither eyes nor domestic businesses permit a sufficient lucid interval. It is something for a man who has idled away the best part of life to have put forth two red tomes, and be acknowledged as competent.Claudite jam rivos pueri, sat prata biberunt.
As for Alva (he writes, December 14th, 1848), I imagine thatiron Dukewill form a prominent figure in Prescott’sPhilip II., on which he is hard at work. To write anewandrealhistory, State-paper offices, archives, and family documents mustbe consulted all over the world. Neither eyes nor domestic businesses permit a sufficient lucid interval. It is something for a man who has idled away the best part of life to have put forth two red tomes, and be acknowledged as competent.Claudite jam rivos pueri, sat prata biberunt.
Mrs. Ford died January 23rd, 1849. Six months later his mother, Lady Ford, died at the age of eighty-two (July 13th, 1849). Business crowded upon him, so that he describes himself as “hung, drawn, and quartered by attorneys.” Solitary, depressed in spirits, worried by executorships and trusteeships, he wrote nothing, and went nowhere. But gradually his life resumed its usual course, though he made London, not Heavitree, his home. His pen was once more busy. The marriage of his two elder daughters interested and excited him.
“Great events” (he writes to Addington from 123, Park Street, December 1850) “have taken place here. My humble dwelling has become a perfect temple of Hymen. Cupid scatters orange blossomsplenis manibus.Bothmy girls are going to be married. Georgy,[51]—you know,—toMowbray, son of our old friend, Henry Northcote; Minnie[52]to Edmund Tyrwhitt, next brother to Sir Henry, and cousin
“Great events” (he writes to Addington from 123, Park Street, December 1850) “have taken place here. My humble dwelling has become a perfect temple of Hymen. Cupid scatters orange blossomsplenis manibus.Bothmy girls are going to be married. Georgy,[51]—you know,—toMowbray, son of our old friend, Henry Northcote; Minnie[52]to Edmund Tyrwhitt, next brother to Sir Henry, and cousin
R.R.Reinagle R.A.S. PinxEmery Walker Ph Sc.Lady Fordb.1767 d.1949
R.R.Reinagle R.A.S. PinxEmery Walker Ph Sc.Lady Fordb.1767 d.1949
R.R.Reinagle R.A.S. PinxEmery Walker Ph Sc.
Lady Ford
b.1767 d.1949
to my little Meta. So I shall be left, high and dry, to console myself withJamones y seco. Not but what a lady told me yesterday that she heard as positive thatIwas booked also. The ardent imaginations of the best half of creation rush at conclusions, and underrate the difficulties of fifty-four. After this, let no man despair. Instead of making love, I have been pursuing a more becoming task of writing articles.”
to my little Meta. So I shall be left, high and dry, to console myself withJamones y seco. Not but what a lady told me yesterday that she heard as positive thatIwas booked also. The ardent imaginations of the best half of creation rush at conclusions, and underrate the difficulties of fifty-four. After this, let no man despair. Instead of making love, I have been pursuing a more becoming task of writing articles.”
In the summer of 1851, Ford married Mary, only daughter of Sir Arscott Ourry Molesworth, Bart., of Pencarrow, near Bodmin, sister of Sir William Molesworth, who had succeeded his father as eighth Baronet in 1823, and was at this time, and to the date of his death (1845-October 1855), M.P. for Southwark. Politically Ford was little in sympathy with his brother-in-law, who was an advanced Liberal, and for many years the leader of the “Philosophical Radicals.” Writing to the Dowager Lady Molesworth, August 18th, 1851, Ford says:—
The pen seems to have passed from the fingers of the late literary Mr. Ford into those of Mrs. Ford. She is now with her nose in her blotting-book, diligently, dutifully, and no doubt delicately inditing to you.Igenerally leave her to the monopoly of the inkstand, and take refuge in my paint-box, having begun a series of Spanish viewsto decorate her room, in the hopes of keeping her out of Spain by bringing the Peninsula to Park Street.Meanwhile we rub on pleasantly and much enjoy the repose of London “out of town.” We vary existence by suburban trips of an approved cockney and connubial character. One day we steam down to Greenwich, champagne and whitebait; another, we float down the beautiful Thames at Twickenham, to the disturbance of swans and punters.You will have heard from Mary of all our sayings and doings. Nothing could be kinder or more hospitable than Miss Molesworth[53]was. She is a very superior and a right honest woman. We fraternised and sisterised greatly. I suppose I have some old hankering and a predilection for the name of “Miss Molesworth.” Assuredly we shall repeat our visit, which our hostess so repeatedly and really pressed.The lady of the Lodge gave me lessons in the cultivation and concoction of flax, which she conducts with great profit, and I hope I may do no worse when anIrishproprietor. I shall grow a small plot of hemp for Cardinals and Co. By the way, what an excellent politician Miss M. is!
The pen seems to have passed from the fingers of the late literary Mr. Ford into those of Mrs. Ford. She is now with her nose in her blotting-book, diligently, dutifully, and no doubt delicately inditing to you.Igenerally leave her to the monopoly of the inkstand, and take refuge in my paint-box, having begun a series of Spanish viewsto decorate her room, in the hopes of keeping her out of Spain by bringing the Peninsula to Park Street.
Meanwhile we rub on pleasantly and much enjoy the repose of London “out of town.” We vary existence by suburban trips of an approved cockney and connubial character. One day we steam down to Greenwich, champagne and whitebait; another, we float down the beautiful Thames at Twickenham, to the disturbance of swans and punters.
You will have heard from Mary of all our sayings and doings. Nothing could be kinder or more hospitable than Miss Molesworth[53]was. She is a very superior and a right honest woman. We fraternised and sisterised greatly. I suppose I have some old hankering and a predilection for the name of “Miss Molesworth.” Assuredly we shall repeat our visit, which our hostess so repeatedly and really pressed.
The lady of the Lodge gave me lessons in the cultivation and concoction of flax, which she conducts with great profit, and I hope I may do no worse when anIrishproprietor. I shall grow a small plot of hemp for Cardinals and Co. By the way, what an excellent politician Miss M. is!
In the spring of 1852 the most popular sight of London was Telbin’s “Diorama of the Campaigns of Wellington.” On the battlefields themselves, with Napier’sHistory of the Peninsular Warin his hand, Ford had traced each move in the struggle between the English and French in Spain. He had read every book which bore upon the subject; from the lips of men who themselves had seen or taken part in the contest, he had gathered details unknown to the historians; and he adored the Duke as the greatest of Englishmen. From many of the places which the war had made famous he had brought away his own sketches, and four of the pictures (“The Night of the Battle of Talavera,” “The Capture of Ciudad Rodrigo,” “The Victory of Salamanca,” “The Victory of Vitoria”) were painted from his drawings. He also contributed the descriptive letterpress, which was printed asA Guide to the Diorama of the Campaigns of the Duke of Wellington(London, 1852). His lively descriptions of the battlefields are so vigorous that the following extract from a rare book may be read with interest. It explains a picture of “A Convoy intercepted by Partizans.”
The predatory system of Napoleon, in forcing the countries he invaded to nourish his armies, necessarily sapped the foundations of military discipline and good conduct. This increased the French difficulties of subduing the Peninsula, which cannot be done with a small army, and where a large one must starve i Polf separated frommagazines. The Massenas, who trusted to gaining their ends by impetuous advances, did not or would not attend to organised supplies, the sinews of war. Strong only when in position, and with no hold on the soil or hearts of the nation, their convoys, few and far between, were always exposed to be cut off by roving bands who waged aguerilla, or little war, which, congenial to their country—broken and rugged, and to their character—warlike but not military, was conducted with infinite perseverance, energy, skill, daring, valour, and success. Lord Wellington, who knew by experience the impossibility of any Spanish army, “in want of everything at the critical moment,” carrying on a regular war, pronounced their partizanship the real and best national power. Unparalleled in a contest of shifts and devices, and without discipline or drill, theGuerilleroswaged a war to the knife; and circumventing the invader by fair means and foul, avenged in his heart’s blood wrongs too many ever to be forgotten, too great ever to be forgiven. These hornets swarmed around every movement, and displaced a force equal to 30,000 men, who were required to patrol roads and keep communications open. The success of these irregulars sustained the flame of Spain’s patriotism, amid the disgrace and defeatsof her regular armies. The French, who smarted, executed them as robbers, because, forsooth, they wore no uniform. Can a Marshal’s embroidery transform spoilers of church and cottage into heroes, or its want degrade the honest defender of altar and hearth into a bandit? Throughout the war, the surprises of French convoys afforded scenes no less frequent than picturesque. Down Alpine defiles and amid aromatic brushwood, the long lines of laden mules, cars, and mounted escorts tracked their tangled way, now concealed in rocks and thickets, now glittering in the sun and giving life to the loneliness; then, in the most perilous point of passage and behind loosened crags lurked the partizans; every blunderbuss loaded and cocked, every finger on the trigger, every knife unclasped, each breathlessly awaiting the signal; nor ever was priest or monk wanting to shrive the souls, and hold out immediate paradise to these humble crusaders, who fell gloriously in the holy war for God, King and country. Honour eternal to these noble sons of Spain! However wild, undisciplined and oriental their resistance, it rises grandly, an example to the world, now the crimes and follies of their unworthy leaders in cabinet and camp have sunk into deserved oblivion.Just now (Ford writes to Addington, May 7th,1852) the old Tory’sDuke of Wellington’s Campaign Librettois much talked of at the Palace. Think of the F.M. going therein personâ, pulling out his shilling, and buying a book, and carrying it off.The old Duke (he adds, May 11th) has been to the Diorama, and was much pleased, especially with Lisbon, Salamanca, Vitoria, and Sorauren. When the squares at the concluding Waterloo began to move, he quite fought his battles over again.The Queen is illustrating the Diorama, the guide in hand.
The predatory system of Napoleon, in forcing the countries he invaded to nourish his armies, necessarily sapped the foundations of military discipline and good conduct. This increased the French difficulties of subduing the Peninsula, which cannot be done with a small army, and where a large one must starve i Polf separated frommagazines. The Massenas, who trusted to gaining their ends by impetuous advances, did not or would not attend to organised supplies, the sinews of war. Strong only when in position, and with no hold on the soil or hearts of the nation, their convoys, few and far between, were always exposed to be cut off by roving bands who waged aguerilla, or little war, which, congenial to their country—broken and rugged, and to their character—warlike but not military, was conducted with infinite perseverance, energy, skill, daring, valour, and success. Lord Wellington, who knew by experience the impossibility of any Spanish army, “in want of everything at the critical moment,” carrying on a regular war, pronounced their partizanship the real and best national power. Unparalleled in a contest of shifts and devices, and without discipline or drill, theGuerilleroswaged a war to the knife; and circumventing the invader by fair means and foul, avenged in his heart’s blood wrongs too many ever to be forgotten, too great ever to be forgiven. These hornets swarmed around every movement, and displaced a force equal to 30,000 men, who were required to patrol roads and keep communications open. The success of these irregulars sustained the flame of Spain’s patriotism, amid the disgrace and defeatsof her regular armies. The French, who smarted, executed them as robbers, because, forsooth, they wore no uniform. Can a Marshal’s embroidery transform spoilers of church and cottage into heroes, or its want degrade the honest defender of altar and hearth into a bandit? Throughout the war, the surprises of French convoys afforded scenes no less frequent than picturesque. Down Alpine defiles and amid aromatic brushwood, the long lines of laden mules, cars, and mounted escorts tracked their tangled way, now concealed in rocks and thickets, now glittering in the sun and giving life to the loneliness; then, in the most perilous point of passage and behind loosened crags lurked the partizans; every blunderbuss loaded and cocked, every finger on the trigger, every knife unclasped, each breathlessly awaiting the signal; nor ever was priest or monk wanting to shrive the souls, and hold out immediate paradise to these humble crusaders, who fell gloriously in the holy war for God, King and country. Honour eternal to these noble sons of Spain! However wild, undisciplined and oriental their resistance, it rises grandly, an example to the world, now the crimes and follies of their unworthy leaders in cabinet and camp have sunk into deserved oblivion.
Just now (Ford writes to Addington, May 7th,1852) the old Tory’sDuke of Wellington’s Campaign Librettois much talked of at the Palace. Think of the F.M. going therein personâ, pulling out his shilling, and buying a book, and carrying it off.
The old Duke (he adds, May 11th) has been to the Diorama, and was much pleased, especially with Lisbon, Salamanca, Vitoria, and Sorauren. When the squares at the concluding Waterloo began to move, he quite fought his battles over again.
The Queen is illustrating the Diorama, the guide in hand.
Ford also notes that a large-paper copy had been bought by Lord Malmesbury, then the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. He was especially pleased with this purchase, because he was endeavouring to obtain, through Addington, a nomination to the Diplomatic Service for his only son, Francis Clare Ford. On leaving Eton, Clare Ford had entered the 4th Light Dragoons. But military life was not to his taste: he had sold out of the Army in June 1851, and was now studying in France. By Addington’s advice a formal letter was written for submission to the Foreign Secretary.
I am most anxious (wrote Ford) to start my only son in diplomacy, to be followed up as his profession. You know the youth. He was at Eton, has learnt the world in the course of soldiering,speaks and writes French excellently, is a clever artist, gentlemanlike and good-looking, can keep a secret, and is aged twenty-three. Hereafter he will have an independent fortune.I am fully aware that I have no right to apply to Lord Malmesbury on private or public grounds; but, at least, I have always been, and in the worst of times, a good Tory with pen and by mouth.
I am most anxious (wrote Ford) to start my only son in diplomacy, to be followed up as his profession. You know the youth. He was at Eton, has learnt the world in the course of soldiering,speaks and writes French excellently, is a clever artist, gentlemanlike and good-looking, can keep a secret, and is aged twenty-three. Hereafter he will have an independent fortune.
I am fully aware that I have no right to apply to Lord Malmesbury on private or public grounds; but, at least, I have always been, and in the worst of times, a good Tory with pen and by mouth.
Across the letter which Addington wrote recommending Clare Ford, Lord Malmesbury scribbled in pencil: “If the son is as clever as the father, he deserves advancement. I have put him down, and hope to name him.” In due course the nomination came. Writing to Addington, July 10th, 1852, Ford says:
I really hardly know howto thank you enough. But I dofeel it greatly, and hope you believe that. Nothing could be more gentlemanlike than Lord Malmesbury. In the middle of dinner—I sat next to him—he said: “Let’s have a glass of champagne together and drink your son’s health, whom I have just appointed anattachéto Naples.”
I really hardly know howto thank you enough. But I dofeel it greatly, and hope you believe that. Nothing could be more gentlemanlike than Lord Malmesbury. In the middle of dinner—I sat next to him—he said: “Let’s have a glass of champagne together and drink your son’s health, whom I have just appointed anattachéto Naples.”
Before taking up his appointment abroad, Clare Ford was summoned home, and began work at the Foreign Office in London. “The young diplomat,” says his father, August 13th, 1852, “works hard at the desk, and is, I am sure, in real and right earnest, and I hope by 1882 will be G.C.B.” Thehope was realised in the spirit, if not in the actual date. Sir Clare Ford became a G.C.B. April 29th, 1889.
Hopeful of his son’s career and gratified by Lord Malmesbury’s recognition of the young man as one of his “cleverest youngsters,” easy in his own circumstances, established in his literary reputation, preserving much of his extraordinary capacity for enjoyment, retaining the freshness of his varied interests, a welcome guest everywhere in society, counting his friends by the hundred, Ford seemed to have before him many years of happiness. His pen was not idle. He wrote frequently in theAthenæumon subjects connected with art. He contributed several articles to theQuarterly Review, notably that on “Apsley House” (March 1853), in which he paid a fine tribute to the Duke of Wellington.[54]He prepared a third edition of theHandbook, which was in great part rewritten. He also was again busy with bricks and mortar at Heavitree.
We have been (he writes to Addington, September 14th, 1854) ruralising and rusticating ever since we fled from the thick-pent, pestilence-stricken city. The days and weeks flit past with wings, and fast as my ducats, for, to the raw material of ruin (farming), I have in my dotage superadded building, and towers and domes are rising while the bankers’ balance comes down. We are greatin pigs and pears, but only so-so in potatoes, which are cruelly diseased; all my fond hopes of getting home by these tubers are dissipated.I am pretty well, barring pocket;—early to bed and early to rise, without, however, being wealthy or wise.Handbookis at a standstill; in fact, it is impossible to dip in the inkstand, or remain indoors, when there is so much going on out of doors, and, as I never admit either architects or nursery gardeners, there is plenty for the master’s head to devise and eye to superintend.
We have been (he writes to Addington, September 14th, 1854) ruralising and rusticating ever since we fled from the thick-pent, pestilence-stricken city. The days and weeks flit past with wings, and fast as my ducats, for, to the raw material of ruin (farming), I have in my dotage superadded building, and towers and domes are rising while the bankers’ balance comes down. We are greatin pigs and pears, but only so-so in potatoes, which are cruelly diseased; all my fond hopes of getting home by these tubers are dissipated.
I am pretty well, barring pocket;—early to bed and early to rise, without, however, being wealthy or wise.Handbookis at a standstill; in fact, it is impossible to dip in the inkstand, or remain indoors, when there is so much going on out of doors, and, as I never admit either architects or nursery gardeners, there is plenty for the master’s head to devise and eye to superintend.
In the autumn of 1855 Ford and his wife were hastily summoned to London by the dangerous illness of her only brother. Sir William Molesworth had won for himself a brilliant position in English politics. To his advocacy had been mainly due the abolition of transportation, and his speeches on colonial questions were marked by profound knowledge of the subject and a statesmanlike breadth of view. In January 1853 he was appointed First Commissioner of Works, with a seat in Lord Aberdeen’s Cabinet. Two years later (July 1855), when he succeeded Lord John Russell as Colonial Secretary, he had gained the legitimate object of his ambition, and held an office for which he was acknowledged to be peculiarly qualified. But his health, always weak, broke down under the strain.
His system (writes Ford to Addington, October 21st, 1855), never very strong, has succumbed toa long and late session, to which the overwork of a new office was added just at the moment when repose and the country were most wanting. He is in avery critical state; but I do not quite despair, and I hope to-morrow to be able to report progress.I have no heart now to enter on those matters which would have filled my pages. Oh the vanity of vanities! Look at poor Sir William, a young man, stretched on his bed and wrestling with death with the heart of a lion, and this just at the moment when all his honours were budding thick and the object of a life’s honourable ambition gained.
His system (writes Ford to Addington, October 21st, 1855), never very strong, has succumbed toa long and late session, to which the overwork of a new office was added just at the moment when repose and the country were most wanting. He is in avery critical state; but I do not quite despair, and I hope to-morrow to be able to report progress.
I have no heart now to enter on those matters which would have filled my pages. Oh the vanity of vanities! Look at poor Sir William, a young man, stretched on his bed and wrestling with death with the heart of a lion, and this just at the moment when all his honours were budding thick and the object of a life’s honourable ambition gained.
Sir William Molesworth died October 22nd, 1855. Ford’s own health was now rapidly breaking down. His eyesight began to fail. He slept badly. The fatal malady which ultimately caused his death—Bright’s disease—was already developed in his system, and affected his nervous condition. His letters lost their gaiety. A visit to Paris in September 1856, where his son was now anattaché, did not revive his spirits. Writing to Addington, he says:
One line from the most palatial Paris, the capital and centre of general civilisation, where gold and gastric juice and the insolence of health and intellect seem to be the things wanting, and where the lust of the eye is indeed gratified. To thosewho have not seen it for many years, the transformations are magical, and the slaves of the lamp are at work day and night.Diruit—edificatis the imperial mandate.We, I fear, must mark No. 2 in many things, not only in political matters. Ourprestigehas sadly fallen on the Continent, and the French, who claim all the glory of the Crimea, almost fancy we exist at their sufferance, and that by saving us at Inkerman, etc., they have wiped out Waterloo. Not a few call the English medal which figures on the breast of many a ZouaveLa Medaille de sauvetage, and compare it to that given by the Humane Society to those who have rescued others from death and danger.My son is alive and busy. He has now an idea of whatworkis, and this mission at Paris is of a very different stamp fromOtiosa Neapolis. However, work is good for the young. The time will arrive, and how rapidly! when we must all saytempus abire, and happy those who areen règle, and are blessed besides, like you, with a strong and philosophic mind,—both of which are wanting to me, who would gladly prefer them to gold and gastric juice.
One line from the most palatial Paris, the capital and centre of general civilisation, where gold and gastric juice and the insolence of health and intellect seem to be the things wanting, and where the lust of the eye is indeed gratified. To thosewho have not seen it for many years, the transformations are magical, and the slaves of the lamp are at work day and night.Diruit—edificatis the imperial mandate.
We, I fear, must mark No. 2 in many things, not only in political matters. Ourprestigehas sadly fallen on the Continent, and the French, who claim all the glory of the Crimea, almost fancy we exist at their sufferance, and that by saving us at Inkerman, etc., they have wiped out Waterloo. Not a few call the English medal which figures on the breast of many a ZouaveLa Medaille de sauvetage, and compare it to that given by the Humane Society to those who have rescued others from death and danger.
My son is alive and busy. He has now an idea of whatworkis, and this mission at Paris is of a very different stamp fromOtiosa Neapolis. However, work is good for the young. The time will arrive, and how rapidly! when we must all saytempus abire, and happy those who areen règle, and are blessed besides, like you, with a strong and philosophic mind,—both of which are wanting to me, who would gladly prefer them to gold and gastric juice.
In December 1856 Ford accepted the appointment to serve, with Lord Broughton, the Dean ofSt. Paul’s, Michael Faraday, George Richmond, and Charles Robert Cockerel, on a Royal Commission “to determine the site of the National Gallery, and to report on the desirableness of combining with it the Fine Art and Archæological Collection of the British Museum.” But eight days after the announcement had appeared in theLondon Gazette(December 15th, 1856), he was obliged to withdraw his consent to act, as he found that his health incapacitated him from discharging the duties of the commission. The newspapers of the day bore witness to the regret that was felt at his inability to serve. “We expressed a fortnight ago,” says theIllustrated London Newsfor January 3rd, 1857, “the general satisfaction that was felt in Mr. Ford’s appointment. His place is not easily to be supplied. His practical good sense, and the general esteem in which he is held, peculiarly fitted him for the appointment.”
Ill though Ford was, he was able to enjoy the promise of his son’s success in the diplomatic service. Promoted to be a paidattachéin March 1857, Clare Ford passed an examination which, as his father proudly reports to Addington, was “the most brilliant ever passed in international law.” In the summer of the same year (June 22nd, 1857) he married Annie, second daughter of the Marquis Garofalo, the head of a family distinguished in the history of Naples. Ford was at his son’s wedding; but after that date he went less and less into society. His last article in theQuarterly Review, “Rugby Reminiscences,” which appeared in October 1857, was a review ofTom Brown’s Schooldays. For him
Velasquez Pinx.Emery Walker Ph. Sc.Dona Margarita Mariana of Austriawife of Philip IV. of Spain.
Velasquez Pinx.Emery Walker Ph. Sc.Dona Margarita Mariana of Austriawife of Philip IV. of Spain.
Velasquez Pinx.Emery Walker Ph. Sc.
Dona Margarita Mariana of Austriawife of Philip IV. of Spain.
the subject had two special attractions. Arnold was an old schoolfellow at Winchester, and ‘Tom’ Hughes had married Ford’s niece, the daughter of his brother James. It is interesting to learn that Arnold had not impressed his contemporaries at school with any “great promise of future excellence,” though his “love for history rather than for poetry, and for truth and facts in preference to fiction,” was already conspicuous. But Ford traces Arnold’s encouragement of games and attention to the supply of proper food at Rugby, to his own experience of “the cheerless condition of Commoners,” and “the ‘Do-the-boys’ dietary” which had prevailed at Winchester.
Ford’s last letter to Addington, dated December 20th, 1857, is written from 123, Park Street:—
Dear Addington,Many thanks for your old-friendlike and mostseasonableletter, and, indeed, I most sincerely reciprocate in wishing you and your dear wife every possible happiness, and in these wishes Mrs. Ford most entirely joins. May the season be pleasant to you both, nay, even “merry.” May you both enjoy that good old epithet associated to the auspicious moment, to which your sound health and right cheery mind so fairly entitle you.We dined last night with the Marshalls, and the turkey was indeed most orthodox and succulent. Spring Rice dined there withBessy, and my sonClare with hisBene. They are preparing for Lisbon, and will start in about a fortnight.Bon voyage!The Indian news is well-timed. The worst is now past, and the difficult task of reconstruction has begun. Your friend, Lord Canning, seems to have done right well. Things seem to bebetteringin the City; but I fear that there will be much distress among our industrious operatives. The next three months will be a terrible trial for the poor.God bless you, dear Addington!Ever yours most truly,Richard Ford.
Dear Addington,
Many thanks for your old-friendlike and mostseasonableletter, and, indeed, I most sincerely reciprocate in wishing you and your dear wife every possible happiness, and in these wishes Mrs. Ford most entirely joins. May the season be pleasant to you both, nay, even “merry.” May you both enjoy that good old epithet associated to the auspicious moment, to which your sound health and right cheery mind so fairly entitle you.
We dined last night with the Marshalls, and the turkey was indeed most orthodox and succulent. Spring Rice dined there withBessy, and my sonClare with hisBene. They are preparing for Lisbon, and will start in about a fortnight.Bon voyage!
The Indian news is well-timed. The worst is now past, and the difficult task of reconstruction has begun. Your friend, Lord Canning, seems to have done right well. Things seem to bebetteringin the City; but I fear that there will be much distress among our industrious operatives. The next three months will be a terrible trial for the poor.
God bless you, dear Addington!
Ever yours most truly,Richard Ford.
During the next few months the two old friends met frequently; but in July 1858 Ford’s health had become so precarious that his son was summoned home from Lisbon, where he now was anattaché. Richard Ford died at Heavitree, August 31st, 1858.
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