lady_schrapnell

Gandalf was a chickenshit with no self-control who could have prevented the massive death toll at Pelennor Fields. Take the ring, kill the baddie, jump into Mount Doom before it has a chance to corrupt you. But nooooo, it's way more fun to have a grey-Maia/fire-Maia punch-up in a bottomless pit in order to emerge in a gleam of backlighting and inspirational music riding a glowing horsey like a tween girl's puberty dreams, than it is to take the ring, zap in, punch the eyeball Maia in his dumb eyeball, and then jump into the lava.

steepholm

Today I turn to my great-great-grandfather Thomas - or Tom, to his siblings. Tom is the middle child, between Weeden and Anne (older) and Fanny and George (younger), though we mustn't forget little Isabella, who is the youngest of all and not yet old enough to write.

We first meet Tom on 5th October 1822, shortly after his thirteenth birthday. It's a short letter, but it paints an enthusiastic picture, perhaps of a trip to Harrow:

My dear Weeden

I have not written you a letter for a long time. This morning after 10 O’clock we had a theme, it was on “Truth”. I wrote down to the bottom of the second page. I daresay that little George thought it rather funny that we dissapeared, for he must have thought so, I think as he did not see us go away. I hope you spent the day very agreably. I am sure I did, as we were coming home in the coach we began to sing “A Frog he would a wooing go”, &c. I dare say the people who passed by did not much care for our beautiful singing, or the Coachman either. We were at home at about a quarter after 11 O’clock. —Not quite so late.
I remain, yours,

ever affectionately,

T. Butler

Tom's father (also Weeden) was in the habit of appending notes of his own to his children's letters to his eldest son. In this case, he adds: "The children, dear Weeden, not your father, sang merrily. I was glad to notice their joy. W.B." Was he worried that it might appear undignified in a father, a priest, a headmaster, to sing about a Frog's adventures? Weeden had been widowed earlier that year, and perhaps that too was an element in his reassurance.

Tom was something of a worry to his sisters. Here's Fanny complaining about him to Weeden in a letter written in the Autumn of... well, I'm not sure which year, because it's undated (even the season is only implied by her concern for fires and muffetees). But I'm guessing 1822 or 1823, because it seems a little on the young side.

My dear Weeden

We began fires today. I got up at 8 o’clock this morning. Tom will not write to you because he says that it would be a waste of paper. Tom has been told more than once that he will be an old Batchelor & I think it is very likely to be true if he indulges such miserly opinions as these. Mr Dyer preached a sermon this morning that Papa says he remembers having read 4 or 5 times before. If you want some white muffetees for your wrists you can get them for 6d a pair at Carter’s. I remain

F. Butler

Perhaps Fanny's mind is set on misers because their next-door neighbour at the time, John Camden Neild, was a notorious miser, who (according to Wikipedia): "was so frugal with worldly pleasures that for a while he had not a bed to lie on. His dress consisted of a blue swallow-tailed coat with gilt buttons, brown trousers, short gaiters, and shoes which were patched and generally down at the heels. He never allowed his clothes to be brushed, because, he said, it destroyed the nap. He continually visited his numerous estates, walking whenever it was possible, never went to the expense of a great-coat, and always stayed with his tenants, sharing their coarse meals and lodging."

Anyway, Fanny's letter prompts another paternal PS:

Dear Weeden,

I let you have this letter for two reasons: first, to let you see the hurry of Fanny’s scrawl; which, secondly, exactly justifies Tom; who only declared he did not like to waste good paper by scribbling. Now, as I give the paper to them all, he could not object to writing out of covetousness; though, perhaps, he & Fanny are both idle. The one scrawls down what comes uppermost, the other declines such waste of paper.

I am, truly, yours,

Weeden Butler

Tom's laziness is not his only fault. Anne reports to Weeden on 27th April, 1824 about a more serious trespass:

My dear Weeden,

I have seen a great deal this week but do not know whether you will like to hear all about it. ...

Tom, Strachey & Charles Hancock were fishing in Kensington Gardens one day last week & ??? came & took them before a magistrate, he happened not to be at home & his wife did not like to let them go before he came home so she ??? ??? [staid?] with them in a room at his house. You may suppose that they were not a little frightened; the men talked of keeping them in the guard room all that night, & then writing to Papa the next morning. The Lady of the house heard the name of Strachey & asked him if he was a relation of Sir John & Lady Strachey, he said he was and she said she did not think a young gentleman of that name would have committed so bad an action as to rob the King of his property. Tom began to make apologies for himself & the others, Charles Hancock looked very grave, which made Strachey ready to laugh, but he was obliged to look very grave. Tom began to cry, & at last, when the Lady found that her husband did not come home, made them promise that they would never fish in the Gardens again, & then let them come home. They had been there two or three times before, but had escaped from the men. John Wyld used to give the men some money to get some bread, & then ask leave to fish, the men told him that he might fish if he took care not to let them see him, but if they saw him they should be obliged to take him up; when the men came to take them up, Tom advised them to run off, but they were too much afraid.

Thank goodness for the magical power of the Strachey name! I'm not sure exactly which Strachey this is, by the way, though his is certainly the family that later gave rise to Lytton of that ilk. A couple of months earlier Anne had described him in strict mourning ("He looks thinner than ever in black") for his aunt, Lady Strachey - Julia, wife of Sir Henry the first Baronet, who died on 12th February. But my idle Googling has so far failed to turn up any younger brother of Sir Henry to be his father, and no "Sir John" at all in that generation. Clearly some mistake - but mine, Anne's, or the magistrate's wife's? I feel a visit to the Strachey tombs in Chew Magna coming on. In any case, being the nephew of a baronet (or one of the nephew's companions) is, then as now, a sound method for getting away with petty crime.

We don't hear of Tom indulging in similar adventures thereafter, but Anne is still worried about his future. On 6th July she writes again, in the wake of the death of a young friend, William Gardiner, probably from tuberculosis:

Mrs Read went to see Miss Gardiner and Mrs Wishart, a few days ago, they were pretty well, but of course very dull and low-spirited. They say that poor William wrote a letter to Mr Gardiner, & another to Isabella about a month or six weeks before his death, and put them among his papers, which were not to be read till after his death. I think Tom will begin to think a little more seriously about the way in which he spends his time. I was talking to him last night about it, and he said with the greatest unconcern that at any rate he would go for a chimney sweeper or a scavenger. He seems to have a great desire to be a bookseller I think. He said also that he thought he should do for an auctioneer. I think I shall go to Chelsea church tonight. Tom says he intends to begin to study tomorrow. I advise[d] him to have some good historical or Geographical work in constant reading, as he has so very little idea of either history or geography.

In retrospect, it seems ironic that a boy who considered becoming a scavenger, a bookseller or an auctioneer should end up as Assistant Secretary to the British Museum during its most, shall we say, acquisitive period. But this is to peer too curiously into the glass of futurity. At the end of August Tom, not yet quite 15, moved to Bordeaux to work for his wine merchant uncle. His last letter from what we might called the Weeden Schooldays collection, from 21st May 1825, is prettily written, but speaks of a certain homesickness, I think:

In what part of the playground is the pump to be erected? You say near your willow is it close to the top bench in Fanny’s Garden, or where? Has H. Wylde still a garden in the old place. My last letter to you was written rather in a hurry, therefore I beg you will excuse me if you did not find it very interesting. I hope however that you were all contented with my letters to you. How does the violin get on. My music master is beginning to teach me some tunes. Did you see Strachey when he came to our house. I suppose you have been to see him and Stratford lately? Remember me kindly to them when you see them. My Uncle left Bordeaux rather sooner than I expected. Have you seen Edwin Dawes lately? How does he get on in the world. I believe it was settled that he should be a clergyman. Has he got rid of the impediment in his speech which he had when he was with us, if he has not I doubt if he will ever be able to preach so as to be well understood.

Poor, stranded Tom. And less than three years ago he was singing about frogs.

steepholm

Over the course of May and June 1824 Anne Butler, then aged sixteen, took a trip from London to relatives in Burntisland in Fife, by way of Cheltenham, Birmingham, Lichfield, Derby (where she hung out with the Philosophical Society), the Peak District and York, in the company of her godmother, Mrs Vaughan. In her letters she comments on all these places, as well as Edinburgh - so, if you're interested in what impression the journey might have made on a teenage girl in the Regency period, and what kinds of tourist activities were available, sit back and read on. You will get some leeches as a bonus.

(In what follows I've taken out passages that don't relate directly the journey, and I've added a few annotations where I hope it will be helpful.)

30 April 1824 [London]

My dear Weeden,

I have a few minutes to spare this morning and therefore take the opportunity of writing to you. I am to set of tomorrow about 4 o’clock with Tom & William, but the latter is only going as far as the coach with me, & Tom is going all the way to Cheltenham. I think that instead of Tom taking care of me, I shall have to take care of him.(1) He is not accustomed to travelling, and to add to his trouble he will have to sleep at the inn, & look after himself all Sunday I believe, for as Mrs Vaughan is only upon a visit herself, I do not think she will be able to ask him to go home with us. He is to return on Monday. …

I remain

Your affectionate sister

Anne V. Butler

(1) At this point Anne is 16 years old, and younger brother Tom (her protector) only 14.

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13 May 1824

My dear Tom

Many thanks for your nice letter which we received yesterday. I am glad to hear that you arrived safely in London. I dare say you were not sorry to reach home after so long and dull a day. … I am sorry to say that Mrs Vaughan is rather fatigued by the journey, but I hope after a few days rest she will be quite recovered. We slept at Birmingham on Monday night and set off for Derby at 7 the next morning and therefore had no opportunity of seeing the place, but what I did see gave me no favourable opinion of it. We passed through Litchfield and while they changed horses we had time to see the outside of the beautiful Cathedral. I wish we had had time to go inside to see the monuments.

We arrived here [Derby] at about 12 o'clock on Tuesday, and Mr & Mrs Finlay came at night. We all went yesterday to see the Porcelain Manufactory which is extremely interesting. We saw the whole process from the making [?] of the clay to the beautiful china that we see in the shops. There was a boy only 14 years old who painted landscapes beautifully. You can have no idea of the number of hands a cup must go through before it is finished. We did not leave Cheltenham till ?? o’clock, and therefore had time to see the public rooms, & Dr White would write our names in the book of arrivals, so that perhaps you have seen them in the newspaper. We also went with Dr & Mrs White to the pump room and walks which were crowded with people. The Bishop of Bangor and the Duke of Buccleuch were there. I tasted the water at ????. I did not much like it but it only tastes a little salt.

There are several pretty old churches at Derby, and the church of All Saints is something like our new church at Chelsea. Mr Holworthy(1) has a very pretty place here called Green Hill, it is just before you enter the town, the house is very large and he has a beautiful garden. …

I believe we going in a day or two to see the Marble works and the silk and lace??? Manufactories, so that I shall not close this letter till I have seen something more. We are going today to see the Infirmary, which I believe is the finest in England. Kean & some of the London actors were in Derby last week, but the people here give very little encouragement to the theatre. I observe that the inhabitants of this place pronounce it as if it were spelt Darby, and not Derby: they have a very peculiar manner of speaking, and I remark that they generally put the letter G at the end of their words, thus they say thing-ge, king-ge, &c.

Dr Forester(2) is a very odd man, do you remember the way Gordon used to talk sometimes for fun? Well he speaks much in the same manner, he puts me sometimes in mind of Willets, he makes the same kind of faces, and stoops as he does when he sits with his legs crossed. I can assure you he is a man of some consequence here. He made the plan of the infirmary, and ??? giving a donation of 50£. He attends as Physician to the Infirmary for nothing. He belongs to the order of Knights-Templars, and there are only six of the order in England. I think that Gordon would be delighted to see him, he understands every kind of machinery and gives up much of his time to the study of it. …

I am writing this in my room with one of my fingers quite dead with the cold so that I can hardly hold my pen. I really think I shall have chilblains again if this weather continues. We had a dinner party on Wednesday and we are to have another today (Friday). We have had an invitation for tomorrow but I do not know whether we shall go yet. We are a good large party of ourselves. Mrs & Mrs Holworthy and Miss Wright (Mrs H’s sister),(3) Mr & Mrs Finlay, Mrs Vaughan & myself. Dr Forester’s grounds touch those of Mr Holworthy. Mr H has several pets as a Dog, a Duck, some pigeons & some partridges, and an old poney aged 40 years, all these live on the lawn before the house. I think of all these the greatest pet is the Duck, it follows him about wherever he goes, and will even come in at the dining and drawing room windows if they are open as they reach to the ground. His dog is a pointer and is called Don. Mr H has an open chaise and a close carriage, and Mr Finlay has his, so that some day we are to go in a large party for a drive.

I believe we are going to Buxton from this, & then to York and afterwards upon a visit to some friends of Mrs Vaughan. So tell Mrs Read with my best love, that I do not know what I shall do for white frocks, as I have only one and that is almost dirty, & I shall not be able to get it washed in a day here as I could at home. …

Believe me to be your ever affectionate sister Anne V. Butler

(1) James Holworthy (1781–1841), artist and close friend of Turner.
(2) Dr Richard Forester (1771-1843). President of the Derby Philosophical Society from 1815.
(3) Anne Holworthy (nee Wright) was the niece of Joseph Wright of Derby.

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30 June 1824 [Burntisland, Fife]

My dear Weeden

Many thanks for your nice long letter, which I fear you will think I ought to have answered sooner. This was my intention, but several things have occurred to prevent me. I think I am always unlucky, I do not know whether I mentioned in my last letter a fall I had, when in Edinburgh. As I was stepping out of a coach at Mrs Charteris’s door, the step was not firm and it slipped from under my foot, so that I fell down, & hurt my arm upon the corner of the pavement, it was stiff for some days but is now well; I think that if it had not been noticed in time it would have been very bad; but I had some egg skin put on it immediately.

About 10 days ago, as I wished to be friends with Mrs Boog’s dog, I went to see it fed by the servant, who said that it was very quiet, & would not bite, so ventured to pat it; at first it was very good natured, but after a little while, it found out that I was a stranger, snarled & snapped at me, happily it did not bite me though it hit me a very hard blow upon the face with its mouth, & tore my frock very much; I felt the effects of the blow for some days, & the pain was so great at first that I thought he had bit me. The servant beat him from me, or I do not think I should have got off so well as I did.

My finger that was so bad is nearly well, but I shall not be able to use it for some time. Last Saturday I found that the third finger of the same hand was beginning to swell & looked very red. I felt pain in it, the night before, but as I had been working, I thought that I might have run my needle into it, but as it got worse, on Saturday, Mrs Vaughan sent for the doctor, Mr Philp [?], to see it, & he said I must have two leeches on it directly, before it got worse. Jane Boog gave up 4 hours of her time which is now very precious to put them on my finger, & after all, we could only make one of them stick on, but it had the desired effect, for the next day the pain was almost gone, & on Monday it was quite well. I hope I shall meet with no more accidents, or I shall grow quite idle, not being able to work or do any thing that requires my hand.

You will have seen in the letter I wrote to Papa from Edinburgh, that Jane Boog is going to be married, in less than a fortnight, so you may suppose we are very busy just now. William Boog is coming next Wednesday. I believe he is to be the best man, you will not perhaps know what this means; it answers to the best maid or Bride’s maid who attends the Lady, so the best man should attend the gentleman.

Mr Sadler went up in a baloon [sic] at Edinburgh on Monday; this is a very uncommon sight in Scotland, I believe it is the first that has been seen here large enough to carry any body in it; and therefore attracted great attention. The gardener who was at Mrs Charteris’s that day, was heard talking about it very much, he said he thought it was very presumptuous in Sadler to try to get to Heaven that way (for he thought that this was what Sadler was trying to do) but that he was in his master’s territory; and he only hoped he would return safe. When asked who he meant by Mr Sadler’s master, he said, “the Devil.” Perhaps you have seen an account of the ascent in the newspapers. It crossed the firth, & at one time appeared quite near, we could distinguish two people in it and that it looked as if it were made of a plaid; but this was not without the assistance of a good telescope. …

In answer to your question as to where the Derbyshire spar comes from, I must tell you it is principally taken from the Peak Hole, which cavern is under Peveril Castle. This is a most extraordinary place, but perhaps you have seen pictures of it, nothing however but the reality can give you a true idea of its wonders. I am sorry that we did not go into the interior of this astonishing place, but it would have been very disagreeable to pass so far under ground, in a narrow passage walking almost double, till we came to the boat, which is only large enough to hold one at a time, & the person who is thus conveyed is obliged to lie down (as the passage is not high enough to allow him to sit up) and he must be pushed along by a man who walks behind the boat in the water, after proceeding some way in this manner we should have entered a very spacious cavern. If the party had all been young, we might have done this, but the fatigue would have been too great for Mr & Mrs Finlay, Mrs Vaughan, & Mrs Holworthy. I think that when the bustle of Jane’s wedding is over, I must again read “Peveril of the Peak.” I only heard parts of it, but did not read it through when we had it at home, & therefore do not remember much of it.

I cannot describe to you the beauty of York Minster, it is really grand beyond description, but I have a York guide, that Mrs Vaughan bought for me, & when I return home you shall read it. You will see from the last letter, (or I believe it was the one before it) that I wrote to Papa, the danger we were in at Wakefield, by the falling of three of the horses, & therefore I shall not say more upon the subject. …

This is a very pretty place & when I am able I hope to take some views which I think you will be pleased with. I intend to collect some shells for Isabella when we go down to the sands, which are about 5 minutes walk off. But we have only been once that way, and then we had not time to stop to pick them up; I hear that there are some very pretty shells to be found, and I hope they will amuse little Isabella. I shall expect to see a very great improvement in her at my return, I hope she is learning to work as well as read now. Fanny will be able to teach her now that she is at home. I believe when we return it will be by sea. This will be a change, but I like travelling by land better. However the steam boats are very large.

When we were at Edinburgh we went to see the Castle, we went up the Calton Hill & Salisbury Crags, but have not yet been up Arthur’s Seat, which I believe a very great Tickler (as Mr Finlay would say) but I hope before we leave Scotland, that I shall be able to say, I have been up it. This Hill has a very grand appearance from all sides, as it is in the form of a lion couching. The eye, nose & mouth are very distinctly seen, the form of the head is altogether very good & and the front paws are very perfect. Princes Street is like our Bond Street, a fashionable lounge where all the Dandies in Edinburgh go to walk. But Bond Street must not be compared to it in length or beauty. It is said that the King was particularly struck with it. George Street is also very beautiful, having at one end Melville’s Monument & at the other St George’s Church. I suppose you know that all the houses in Edinburgh are built of stone but this street loses much of its beauty from having from having St Andrew’s Church (which is situated in the middle of it) project, & the Physicians’ Hall, which is directly opposite, recede. Thus the people say that the modesty of the Physicians & the forwardness of the Clergy have spoilt the finest street in Europe.

There is a very high hill near here called the Bin[n], but we have not yet been up it, but we have been over several of the smaller ones. I can assure you we did not pass your birthday without thinking of you, but all drank your health. Stirling Christie’s was on the same day, but he is a year younger than you and Elizabeth Dawes’ birthday is on the 22 we thought of her also. There has been a very dreadful fire in Edinburgh last week, such a one has not been known here for 34 years. Pray remember me to Papa, Mrs Read, Tom, Fanny and George. I hope little Isabella will remember me when I return. … Mrs Boog & Mrs Vaughan & all friends here desire to be kindly remembered to Papa, they have all asked very particularly after you. I hope you will think this a long letter, I have been nearly all day writing it. I remain your very affectionate sister.

Anne V. Butler