PEEPS AT LIFE IN VICTORIAN DAYS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18208, 15 July 1927, Page 4

PEEPS AT LIFE IN VICTORIAN DAYS.

j LADY CAVENDISH AND HER ARRESTING DIARY. LONDON, June I. Perhaps the most complete and vivacious picture of the more interesting period of Victoria’s reign ever given is to be found in “ The Diary of Lady Frederick ’ Cavendish,” which John Murray published to-day in two volumes. Born a Lyttelton, married to a Cavendish, nearly related to the Gladstones and to many of the great houses of the time, maid of honour to Queen Victoria, the friend of Archbishop Temple and of Dean Stanley, Lady Frederick had an intimate knowledge of the social, political and ecclesiastical circles of her day. 1 The earlier entries—the diary begins i when Lady Frederick was thirteen ; and extends over twenty-eight years, j until the murder of Lord Frederick , Cavendish in 18S2—are in a light vein that even borders on the frivolous, and | her sidelights on Victorian slang and * Victorian customs are always entertaining.

Two instances of “slang” must suffice. In those days a “ break '* was some event that helped to break tho monotony of life. So Miss Lyttelton, as she was then, called the appearance of a new babj' in a friend's house “ail immense break.” r To “ shoot ” meant to see anyone unexpectedly. Thus a cleric wrote that he “ shot the Bishop of London in a corner at the Queen’s party.” Lady Frederick met all the big people of the time. Here are her thumb-nail sketches of Victorian Giants. t Tennyson: A dirty man with opium-glazed eyes and rat-taily hair hanging down his back. Matthew Arnold: Very like a small yellow rabbit. . . . He seems light and vain and does not talk sense. • * • I don’t like Mr Arnold. Disraeli: A grisly sight he is, with his blue-grey colour and sham old black curls... He was dressed hike a well-to-do old clo’ man in a long, light grey coat and loud trousers. Girls had less freedom than they ndw enjoy, and Lady Frederick confesses that after walking alone on Brighton pier at the age of twenty she “felt scampish,” while at the sight of a party of young ladies alighting from a hansom in which they had driven down Oxford Street, “ Lord Cowper was probably shocked.” On August IS, ISSS, the arrival cf the first message by the Atlantic telegraph is recorded—it took thirty-six minutes! The arrival of the telephone (1881) is noted as follows, from Ila warden:— That enchanting now marvel, a telephone, has been put up. whereby castle and rectory converse ad libitum Uncle 5V., who is in some respects the greatest Tory out, will have nothing to bay to it. Uncle W. Was Mr Gladstone. This woman, of strong and lovable character, had a tragic life. She mourned that no children were born to her. Her father, whom she adored, committed suicide, and she knew fortythree years of widowhood after the murder of her husband. Her eighteen years of married life, however, were very happy, for she and her husband were ideally mated. An extract, dated Osborne, January IC, 1861, says:— At Parkhurst, the poor women convicts found out it was the Quern. » U «I numbers fell on their knees, begging for mercy am’ pardon, so as quite t.. upset those who heard them, and the Queen said she was sure, if one had managed to fall down at her feet, sho must have forgiven her. . In June of the same year Lucy Lyttelton became the wife of Lord Frederick Cavendish. Her life thereafter was crammed with interest. Gladstone had formed a very high opinion of Lord Frederick, whom he sent as Chief Secretary to Ireland in 1882. The night before the tragic news came of his death was happy enough. ing. ’ " Lady Frederick ' wrlt-eif 61 " “I°Yelt as if .the worst were over, all anxiety as to the decision, and the pain of accepting, and now we had to face it bravely and hopefully. We talked much of all we should have to do—how smart I should have to be; I don’t think wo talked of anything but Ireland. Afterwards, when she. was writing to Mr Glads Lone, her sister-in-law brought the news. All rnv blessed joy of many years wrecked in the darkness. In the midst of the black storm a confused feeling came over me that it would kill Undo W., who had sent him out in such hope —as, indeed, "a son of his right hand.'* lit then Uncle W. himself came in. . . . I saw his face, pale, sorrowstricken, but like a prophet’s in Us look of faith and strength.- He came up and almost took me in his arms, and his first words were: “Father, forgi**e them, fo Vhen y ii« n Hßl€| ,O t<J l nie: 'id? aasurod it ason?°ther<> fen 11 "’bright‘’ray’’of* hop-, and I saw In s \ ision Ireland at peHC* and rnv darling's life blood accepted am a sacrifice for Christ's sake, to help «£> bring this to pass. A priest in Connemara read the® noble words from the aitar, and th# whole congregation spontaneously fell down upon their knees. Lady Frederick Cavendish died two years ago, having spent the long years of her widowhood in unostentatious social and educational work.