A.D. 1883.]

CAPTAIN BLOW'S RECOLLECTIONS.

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not be taken up to St Petersburg, as there was at that time not more than nine feet of water over the bar, but most of the party went there. On 8th September they arrived at Kiel, thence to Rotterdam, and returned to Cowes Roads on 15th.

Thereafter the yacht was again lent to Sir Stafford Northcote.

It would be wearisome to record more about these pleasure cruises, to which Smith used to look ardently forward, in those broiling days when, by sheer exhaustion of legislators, the session of Parliament creeps slowly to a close. But it is not possible to write about the Pandora without mention of Captain Blow, who sailed in her during all the years from 1880 to 1891, and gained the esteem and confidence, not only of Mr Smith and his family, but of all who were guests on board. He tells how Mr Smith knew every man in the crew, even though he had not much personal intercourse with them, and how he liked to have the old hands re-engaged year by year. He speaks with special appreciation of the care which his master always showed that plenty of time should be allowed to get up steam—a point in which some yachtsmen show scant consideration when in a hurry to get under weigh—and of the precautions he took to make arrangements for the mails to meet the yacht at the various places where she touched, so that every man on board should get his letters as punctually as Smith did himself. These may seem trifling points, but it is in trifles that men most surely show consideration for those in their employment. Captain Blow, like many another good sailor, is not a man of many words, but there is a look in his eyes when he speaks of his old master that tells of the confidence they had in each other. Nor was Smith's confidence misplaced, for in all the years he commanded the Pandora, Captain Blow never encountered a serious mishap, though it is true

that in 1880, when Blow was serving as mate, the vessel took the ground at Ergastoli, owing to a confusion in the lights, in Cephalonia, and had to be lightened of 100 tons of coal before she floated again.

CHAPTER XVII.

1871-1891.

There is no landscape more profoundly tranquil-none more thoroughly English in character-than that which lies on either bank of the river below Henley-on-Thames. Between that town and the village of Hambleden—distant from each other some four miles, the Thames, flowing northwards first through the well-known Henley reach, bends sharply eastward and sweeps in a wide curve between level meadows, bordered and sheltered on the north by the beechclad downs of Fawley and Hambleden. Southwards the view stretches away over Remenham, banded by heavy hedgerows, to the gently swelling uplands of Wargrave and Ashley. Just where the river-lawns are greenest and the stream spreads itself into its glassiest reach, stands, on the left bank, the modern house of Greenlands. A white building in the Italian style-surrounded by sleepy elms and solemn cedars casting broad swathes of shadow across the velvety turf, and gay with its environment of flower-beds led down to the very edge of the water-there is little in this place to commemorate the noisy conflict which once roared around it for months together. But there are still piled on the terrace some rusty round-shot, which from time to time have been found buried deep in the park and

A.D. 1644.]

GREENLANDS HELD FOR THE KING.

247

garden, memorials of the long siege sustained in old Greenland House by brave Sir John Doyley, who stood for the King in 1644. Oxford and Wallingford remained staunchly Royalist, but nearer Henley was garrisoned by the Parliamentarians, when, about the New Year, Doyley began to fortify his premises; and the Lenten lilies had not blown before he was closely beleaguered by Major-General Skippen. The house, of which every vestige has long ago disappeared, must have been of considerable strength, for its garrison maintained an obstinate defence. General Skippen, riding round it one dewy May morning, had his horse shot under him; and Essex wrote to him repeatedly, insisting on the reduction of Greenland, as essential to the safety of his army. In June a message came from the House of Lords to the Commons, setting forth the necessity of the immediate despatch of a regiment or more on foot to join the forces then before Greenland, "and that they might batter it from the other side of the Thames." 1 Later, the Commons sent to London to arrange for more troops being forwarded to reduce Oxford and Greenland House, and the better securing of these counties for Parliament. In fact, on the King's return to Oxford, General Skippen thought it better to draw off his forces before Greenland, and retired to Henley. But in July arrived Major-General Brown, who, planting a battery on the south bank of the river, and sending to London for two siege-pieces and some petards, proceeded to bombard the manor-house. Whitlock notes that thereafter

it was (6 almost beaten about the ears of the garrison."

In the same month of July the siege was again raised by a party from Oxford and Wallingford. General Brown once more retired to Henley, and the Royalist force went back to Oxford, taking with them twenty-nine women, who had been shut up in Greenland. But no sooner had the

1 Whitlock's Memorials.

Cavaliers disappeared in the summer woodland than General Brown renewed the siege on Sir John Doyley's stronghold, then under command of Colonel Hawkins. This time Brown brought his whole brigade, and renewed the bombardment in such vigorous sort that the gallant Hawkins, standing on a pile of smoking ruins, was fain to sue for terms. He obtained them, and of such a kind as to prove both his own prowess and the value set by the Parliamentary leaders on the house of Greenland, for he and his brave garrison were allowed to march out with the honours of war, prisoners were exchanged, and the victors provided transport for the vanquished as far as Wallingford.

Standing on a summer evening beside the tranquil stream, watching the pleasure-boats floating past and listening to the distant roar of Hambleden lasher—it is difficult to realise that this is the same scene where once the civil conflict raged so fiercely, that the frequent round-shot hurtled where the swallows now skim, and yonder tuneful woodland echoed to hoarse battle-cries and clash of angry steel.

Old Greenland House was levelled with the sward: Sir John Doyley, his resources sadly drained by the expenses of the war, parted with the estate. After that, it changed hands pretty often, till, in 1871, it was bought by Mr Smith from Sir Dudley Marjoribanks.1 This was the quiet retreat in which the weary man of affairs looked forward to spending the afternoon of life, this the angulus ille terrarum which he set himself to beautify, and enrich with work on the garden, the farm, the woods, and, above all, on the workmen's cottages. He was not one to brook the existence of those terrible contrasts, which are only to be endured by habit, between the dwellings of the rich and poor: if his own house, as befitted his means, was to be beautiful and 1 Created Baron Tweedmouth in 1881.

LIFE AT GREENLANDS.

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even luxurious, so much the greater urgency for the cottages of his workmen to be bright and healthy and roomy enough for decorous living. Every human being-ay, and every quadruped too that worked on his land, should be as comfortably housed and liberally dealt with as patient forethought could ensure. Of course this is something beyond practical farming: a hard-working tenant, with a rent to pay, has to see his way to get back whatever he puts into the pockets of his workmen or down the throats of his beasts; but it was the kindly anxiety of a prosperous man that everything on his ground should be comfortable and well-to-do. Smith took special delight in his flock of Sussex Down ewes, and used to listen sympathetically to his shepherd dilating with professional pride on their level backs, well-bred heads, and close ochrey fleeces.

It was not, however, often that Smith spoke familiarly with his servants. As a rule, he was reserved and silent towards them; never rude or hasty, but speaking no more than the occasion required. One day he said to his valet: "I don't speak much to you; my mind is pretty full of other matters, but remember, it is never so full that I cannot listen to anything you want to say to me."

The reposeful purpose of the new owner of Greenlands was, so far as concerned himself, destined to imperfect fulfilment. Public life in the nineteenth century is niggardly in opportunity of retirement for a Cincinnatus, and in addition. to the time devoured by the ever-growing business in the Strand, in which Smith continued the leading active partner till 1874, he had, at the time of his settling at Greenlands, been for three years a metropolitan member, and few who have not tried it are able to realise what incessant attention that honourable position demands.

Still, he made it his country home; there his wife and children lived in the autumn and winter, and thither he