England was in a stir with the Queen’s Jubilee; it was impossible to be in London on the twenty-first, as Dr. Gray must get to Oxford to receive his degree on the twenty-second, and a good part of the day was used in crossing country by various railroads; but the sight of the crowds, the decorations, the bands everywhere, was very interesting, and the enthusiasm contagious. Oxford had its gay share of illumination in the evening, and the next day Dr. Gray received his degree with several others, among them his old Cambridge acquaintance, Story, the sculptor.
TO ——.
Blachford, Sunday, July 2.
... I am to add some supplementary notes.
At the Cambridge University lunch, I had Mrs. Jebb assigned to me to take in. Oscar Browning took the seat on my right. Opposite was a man I was glad to see, Lord Acton,—middle-aged, of high scholarship and admirable taste, who fought a long and losing battle against the superstitious tendencies of his (Roman Catholic) church; and after lunch I had a pleasant conversation with him; was glad to find he was one of the new D. C. L. crew at Oxford, where I again saw something of him. He has been in the United States when only a baronet.
At the Oxford Christ Church dinner I was placed at the high table, only two away from the Dean’s left, the two Dr. Jellett, provost of Trinity College, Dublin (who was doctored), and the bishop of Gibraltar. On my left was Talbot, the warden of Keble College (the very high church one), and I know little of what I ate or drank, for we had a steady stream of conversation on high topics, treated with immense frankness on both sides. Dr. Jellett made the return-thanks speech for all four of the new-made Doctors present,—himself, Story, Dr. Wright, Arabic professor at Cambridge, and myself, a speech full of Irish humor. That was arranged to be all. But the lower tables somehow knew by instinct what Story wanted, and called him out. He made a rather funny speech. Then Liddon had to move thanks to the president of the feast, the Dean (Liddell), and a capital speech he made, even to my apprehension. I saw that there was a good deal between the lines in what he was saying, but did not know the half of it till I was told afterwards. Paget, my host, was opposite me. Prestwich, whom I had not before got sight of, was next him. It was a long affair, but very pleasant to me.
Next morning was the call on Professor Bartholomew Price and wife, in a charming old house, meeting Tylor and Maspero; then we went to the Museum, giving our time there to the new well-contrived Pitt-River Museum of Ethnology; then walked to Acland’s and made a long call on his daughter, who seemed pleased, and we certainly were to see her again, and looking well, though a sufferer and invalid. The dinner at Balfour’s, J. will describe.
Friday, at ten o’clock, the Hookers called with a carriage, and we drove to Nuneham, seven miles, where Colonel Harcourt, older brother of Sir William Harcourt, had invited us to see the place and lunch. It is one of the principal seats of the Harcourt family,—not the oldest, which is on the Thames much higher up—and is in view from the railway to London, a handsome but externally rather plain pile, and so full of remarkable things. As soon as we arrived we were shown through most of the house by Colonel H., and some of the historical curiosities were brought out.... There is an unparalleled gallery of original portraits of British poets, mostly given by themselves, almost all of them....
The “omnibus” had been ordered, and we drove through the park, into the arboretum, and through it by winding roads were landed at the conservatory and gardens, the dairy, the ornamental grounds, filled with statues, etc., inscriptions in verse and prose set up by the wits of the times of George II. and III. In the house we were shown some of the letters, of which there is a vast quantity, now being sorted and arranged in volumes and indexed. One volume is of those of George III., beginning with those when a small boy, and badly spelled, ending with some when an old man and insane. Then a walk along the terrace and the side commanding the fine views, from some points Oxford dimly seen in the distance; then the lunch.
Our carriage was announced, and we took leave, a shorter way through the park being pointed out. Got back to Oxford just in time to take leave of H. (her husband out) and take a fly to train, and so to London; separated from the Hookers, who had to take a slip car, to be dropped at Reading. We went straight to Paddington without stop, and thence in a cab to the Deanery, where our dear good friends awaited us.