Frederick Jameson, that earliest friend of the days of our courtship, led the carol and song, and played for children and grown-ups to dance; Henry James sat in the ingle nook and told us ghost-stories of his making wholly in keeping with the place; George Meredith watched and made shrewd comments on the characteristics and possible careers of our various children, and discoursed on every topic—always expecting the homage due to him and reserving the conversation, even from Joe, by a long-drawn “Ah—” until he was ready with his next paradox.
Yet there was a moment when Joe scored even off Meredith. I think he tells the tale in Coasting Bohemia, but not of himself. Meredith had been criticizing George Eliot, and in a brief pause, Joe put in: “Yes! Panoplied in all the philosophies she swoops upon the commonplace.” And Meredith, laughing, replied, “I wish I had said that myself!”
One day we were busy amusing the children in the big Hall with a game of Definitions; one wrote down a word for Subject, the next man defined, and the third—the paper being turned over the Subject—“recovered” it.
Thus: Subject, Soap; Definition, as made by Joe: The Horror of the East-end multitude. Recovery, Jack the Ripper: the nickname of the celebrated East-end murderer who was then the talk of the whole town.
Joe was leaving that day for London, and the man came to announce that the trap was at the door.
He rose to go, but the children had begun another definition for his “last.” Woman was given as the word. The Better Half, wrote the next person.
“Only just time to make the train, Sir,” said the footman.
The children wailed, and we all followed him out of the hall and saw him off; but half an hour later a telegram was handed to our hostess.
“Recovery: An Angel once removed”; and nobody needed to hear the signature.
The children were always the frame to the picture in that lovable household, and our daughter—the apple of her father’s eye, made in his mould, gifted with his humour and large with his urbane and generous heart—had a very special place there. I remember his pride when George Meredith watching her one day at his feet, said: “Look at the bumps on that child’s head. Always let her pursue whatever walk in life she chooses.”