CLIFFORD OF STONYHURST

Press, Volume XCIII, Issue 27896, 18 February 1956, Page 11

CLIFFORD OF STONYHURST

Sketch Of A Pioneer

[Specially written for “The Press" by

G. R. MACDONALD]

II

It may be well here to glance at C-eorge Clifiord's character and read the narrative that follows in tue lig.-i oi the conclusions reached. He had been to Stonyhurst, which combined the functions of a school and a university, and he had received the education of a Catholic gentleman. The masters were priests and subjects taught included religion, w.icn formed an important part of the system of studies. It was a part of nis character which often appeared in his h e that when he had a difficult decision to make, he gave it full thought, made up his m.nd and pm it away from him thereafter, then turning to consider the consequences which arose from his decision. He accepted the Christian religion in full and without qualification, and the Christian code of conduct and morals, and his life was built on this foundation.

Class was an essential part of the English social structure, particularly in the last century; and class feeling 100 yefirs ago went to an extreme it is now hard to realise. It is not sufficient to sa'- that he was without class feeling; he seemed to be unconscious that such a thing existed. Another man was jus. another human being to him. interesting or uninteresting, foolish or sensible, energetic or lazy. If another person had anything to say, he listened politely and attentively; if he was a Sore he avoided him if possible. Professor Macmillan Brown, one of the most long-winded of men. was a trial to him at Fendalton. If the professor arrived in the afternoon, he would make a secret sign which meant. “Put off dinner as long as possible.” He was a simple man Using that word in its best sense. No-one need guess at reservations and hidden meanings in what he said. The whole plan of his life was open for anyone to see. He was almost oblivious to comfort and always sat at his desk in a hard chair. Anyone who knew him would remember him turning and looking up from his writing, rather reluctant to be interrupted but listening politely. Many people believed that he lived in a luxurious way and that champagne flowed frequently. Nothing can be further from the truth. He usually drank a little white wine, mixed with water, but he certainly would have been no less content with a cup of tea. He used to import some frozen game from England, but one could say that he was indifferent to what he ate or drank, what sort of chair he sat in, or how the room was furnished.

He was an exceptionally strong man physically, and after a long day going around the station, would immediately sit at his desk and spend a long evening writing. Tirelessness was a characteristic in many senses. The station accounts were in a form elaborate and involved, calculated to give the maximum of information to the owners. Station managers groaned under the burden of completing these accounts quarterly. He insisted that they should be completed and that they should be correct. No detail escaped him and he continued to point out the deficiencies politely but firmly. The managers signed but realised that dodging or equivocation was useless. No detail was too small for him. “I notice that on stocktaking you are three pairs of working trousers short,” he would say. Or. “What has happened to Smith's wages cheque for £2 3s?” Once a glimpse of humour was allowed to creep in. Writing to Frank Dennis, he said: “Your new idea of dealing with the petty cash would have been excellent had you not put all the figures on the wrong side.”

His letters to his mother and his sister Lucy are descriptive and rather formal. When he essays humour it is inclined to be stiff, it is easy to see that he is a reserved man and does not wear his heart on his sleeve. But he was capable of deep affection, and was never unkind. Twice in the letters he writes to tell a manager that his services must be dispensed with. This difficult task he performs with the utmost tact and succeeds in lessening the blow in a way that shows his deep humanity.

The first time emotion escapes from a letter is when he returns with his father to New Zealand in 1871 and sees once more his native Wellington. It is obvious that he is himself surprised. He did not realise what New Zealand meant to him. From then on it is obvious that he is turning over in his mind the idea of making New Zealand his home. After he had left Stonyhurst (in England) he had followed the life of any average young man of means—doing some hunting, going to the races and so on. His first trip with his father was what might be called a curtain-raiser. They visited the stations and returned to England in a few months.

His next trip in 1873 was caused by partnership difficulties. Weld was by now a Governor of an Australian colony. He had a quarter share in the partnership, and the Cliffords held the other three-quarters. There had been some correspondence that had grown sharp and Weld had finally got sufficient financial backing to make an offer of £250.000 for the whole of the partnership assets. Sir Charles Clifford thought ?t would be a pity if he and Weld should part with any ill-feeling between them, and sent out George to try to settle the matter in a friendly way. This he succeeded in doing, and no doubt no better ambassador could have been sent.

Enter Robinson The letter book of 1876 opens with a cable as dramatic as the heading of a chapter in a “thriller.” “Tell Clifford Robinson bought 9000 acres Stonyhurst various blocks Westmacott ' consolidated existing freehold, wait instructions whether extend.” Very few stations were all freehold. Most station-owners, being short of capital, made what they had go as far as possible by freeholding key points, as wa^er supply, good flats suitable for building, road frontages, and F 2 on ' The Cliffords had always been short of capital, considering the magnitude of their operations; and Stonyhurst was in particular what was known as “lightly held”; that is to say. the proportion of freehold was below the safety limit. What induced Hon. William Robinson to make this raid on a neighbour with whom he on good terms will never be known. Perhaps, after his adventurous youth in Australia, he got bored with the peaceful life of a prosperous runholder. Perhaps his idea simply, armed with this gun. to hold it at their heads and compel them to : buy back their land at a handsome profit to himself. George of course left hurriedly, and as soon as he reached New Zealand. j Robinson made overtures for a meetmg. It was unlikely that in his lone I and adventurous career he had ever met an antagonist of quite this calibre. George Clifford had a very strong will. He was full of self-confidence and he could attack any problem with advantages very rarely found in one man. His simple character and keen brain led him immediately to the centre o? anv difficulty. Manv able men suffer from various inhibitions, which prevent them from exercising their capabilities to the full. Perhaps they feel that inferior birth puts them I at a disadvantage with an opponent: or they may feel that lack or neglect 0 education puts them in an inferior position. Others, again, either by upbringing or nature, have no firm standard of conduct and are tempted to try manoeuvres that might be thought dubious. George Clifford suffered from none these disabilities. He was equally t home in any company from the **j£hcst to the lowest, and he could

talk as simply, naturally and politely to the Governor of New Zealand as he could to a jockey boy. He had no need to worry about his education. He had absorbed all that Stonyhurst coulc give him, and had some years of lega’ study behind him. As to any line o conduct, his natural simplicity and uprightness, reinforced ,by his deep!, founded belief in the Christian faith left him no doubt as to rightness oi wrongness. All he had to decide wa: the best way to deal with any situa tion that confronted him.

In this particular crisis he did thonly thing that could be done. He raised all the capital available ant bought all the vital land in Ston> hurst, which Robinson had neglected and having made his position as strong as it could be made, was ready to talk He said in a letter to his fathei ■‘Robinsgn was evidently not prepared for our suddenness or our spending powers.” Any feelings he may havi had about Robinson's conduct he kep< to himself. He proposed that Robin son should take the southern part o the run. known as Haopy Valley, and abandon the key position in the inner part of Stonyhurst. which included the rich swamp paddocks.

Robinson could not have stocked land in the interior of Stonyhurst completely surrounded by Clifford land, and this was the arrangement come to. Any excess or deficiency was to be paid for at the rate of £ c an acre, still the rate an acre of government freehold in Canterbury. Rob inson promised to take no further action in buying Stonyhurst land, ou not long after George Clifford had to buy further land to defend Pendle Hill from him. He left in June, 1877. pretty weH satisfied with what he had and realising that he would probably have to make his home in New Zealand. After all. life in England had no particular attraction for him. His chief idea of pleasure was ceaseless occupation Luxury, an easy life, meant nothing to him. Back in N.Z. For Good Ever since his trip in 1873, Clifford had kept up a ceaseless correspondence with the managers of the two runs. Soon after the affair with Robinson, he was back again; and this time he had decided for New Zealand as his home and proposed to the partners that he should take over Stonyhurst He offered what he considered a fair price, which would leave him a reasonable chance of making a living. The price was £65,000, and he was able to pay only 15 per cent. cash. But he was to have only one good year. The great depression which smarted in 1879 and continued till about 1896 made his calculations a long way out. He now found that what he had thought were normal times had turned out to be very good times; and he was quite unable to make Stonyhurst pay at the price he had offered. Interest and compound interest added up to a formidable burden, until he went to Weld and told him that if all unpaid interest was to be compounded he would have to walk out. He and Weld came to an agreement and he was able to emerge, but not unscathed. He was now racing in a small way. but always assured his father that it had cost him nothing up to date. One of the chief subjects of the letters was rabbits. The Flaxbourne country was warm and free and conditions were perfect for them. Poisoning began and was continued on a larger and larger scale. Netting was imported to Flaxbourne from England. The cost of rabbiting amounted to £4OOO a year, of which £l9OO was recovered by the export of skins. Good Merino wool had fallen to under a shilling a pound and the burden of interest was steadily mounting. Before Sir Charles Clifford’s death profits to the partners had vanished and Dalgety and Company’s overdraft had reached £59.000. After Sir Charles Clifford's death in 1891. Flaxbourne belonged to Clifford Brothers, and Sir George’s share was thirteen-fortieths; the other three brothers had nine-fortieths each. When Weld died they paid out Lady Weld. Before the tide turned their overdraft reached £75.000.

During these long harassing years of depression Sir George Clifford did not cease his campaign of intense economy; no detail was too small for him. He learnt business management the hard way. He tried flax milling at Flaxbourne, but gave it up after a year and leased the mill. To add to his troubles, his cousin, Willie Clifford, had Mount Vernon, next to Flaxbourne (later known as Ugbrooke) and he had got himself into a hopeless mess. He was later Lord Clifford of Chudleigh. He had a brain which could deal in theories, but was incapable of practical common sense. Sir George Clifford persuaded him to live on an allowance elsewhere and got the run—a very good one—back into working order. (To be continued)