THE ALBERT MEMORIAL, LONDON
These ladies read little; they went nowhere. London was unknown to them, save for one short visit. They were full of prejudice. They would not visit their right-hand neighbour, because her money—not much of it—came from the drapery trade; nor their left-hand neighbour, because one must draw the line above the farmer’s daughter. They were full of little pretensions. Their papa was formerly the vicar—a gentleman and a scholar; or he was a solicitor, who, though himself sprung from a shop, was a gentleman by right of his profession; therefore his daughters refused to visit their cousins. It was truly wonderful to watch the social hedges raised everywhere.
Photo by Mayall
A FAMILY GROUP
(Standing)
PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF WALES
DUKE AND DUCHESS OF HESSE
(Seated)
PRINCESS CHRISTIAN
THE QUEEN
PRINCESS BEATRICE
DUKE OF CONNAUGHT
PRINCESS ROYAL
Somehow or other these hedges troubled the younger folk little. The young man came along in due course. He came to tea, he brought his flute, he stayed to supper—bread and cheese and beer, with a glass of hot brandy and water afterwards. He gazed upon one of the girls; one Sunday evening he presented her with a rose in the church porch. The vicar that evening demonstrated the impossibility of hoping to escape, but the girl with the rose in her hand sat tremulous, flushed, happy. After the sermon the young man walked home with her, the sister giving up her place and walking with the brother. The young man stayed to supper—cold lamb and a lettuce, with beer and a glass of hot brandy and water. They talked of the sermon of despair, and the text, with no escape possible. While they talked, the spring of love was welling up in the girl’s young heart—thus is the soundest theology mocked by Nature. In two or three months there followed the wedding, with the breakfast and the pink champagne.
Not every country town has experienced this decline; some few have escaped, but all have suffered more or less which depend entirely on the agricultural interest. Of one class I speak with great sympathy—the Nonconformist ministers. They were none too well paid in the most palmy days. The chapel contained perhaps a hundred and twenty members; these members paid two shillings a quarter each for his seat, or eight shillings a year. There was no endowment; the minister therefore received forty pounds a year. This was increased by voluntary gifts from the richer members of the congregation, so that the minister probably reckoned on a hundred or a hundred and twenty pounds a year for his stipend. Now, alas! there are no richer members, there are no voluntary offerings; the poor man has to keep himself and his family on forty pounds a year.
