Tom Brownings Schooldays

Tom Browning's Schooldays

By

Joel

Chapter EightyEight

Epilogue Part Two

1857 - 1876

Time passes quickly when one is busy and making sure one is enjoying life. Our lives were made pleasurable by the constant interplay between friends and relations and our own travels whenever we could leave Cambridge to explore the world around us. I was busy with my growing list of patients and was thankful I had Timmy as an equal partner in that enterprise. I had also to take my share of students who wished to train as physicians. With Dr Quick, now the Master of St Mark's, that task increased but it meant I had to keep well abreast of all the new findings and techniques in the field of medicine. Both Robin and I relished our visits to Paris, staying with the Comte de Roanne who made us very welcome. Here I could visit my past teachers at the College of Medicine and learn of even more new discoveries. I felt most privileged when introduced to Dr Pasteur at the Sorbonne whose findings on causes of fermentation and disease gave credence to the ideas I was teaching my own students. I did not dare tell that most learned man of at least three Fellows in Medicine in the university here who rejected his notions that different types of organisms were the causes of the various diseases we were confronted with. We made the journey to Heidelberg three times and we had further plans to visit both there and Berlin but the hostilities between Germany and France in 1870 and 1871 precluded that. We were saddened greatly when the Comte died at the beginning of 1871 and we were unable to attend his funeral. In fact, the Johnson twins had left Paris before it was besieged and came to us in Cambridge. They returned to find much destruction, which needed their architectural expertise to rectify and rebuild. They had then assumed the family title of Comtes de Roanne for they said it impressed their clients!

Throughout these years George was a permanent companion for us and revelled in all the entertainments and diversions which a city of students can provide. However his injuries restricted his old pleasures of riding to hounds, or even shooting, for his left hand was more or less useless and he could not grip reins nor support a rifle steadily. We did devise an attachment for his left leg so that boots and shoes could be fitted. He allowed himself to be driven everywhere in a chaise by Mark Dawson and became a well-known figure in the city. However he needed some congenial employment to keep him otherwise occupied. This was accomplished when the old Bursar of St Mark's suddenly died in 1860.

There had been much consternation in the previous year when it was found that the College finances were in a parlous state. The College had never had a reputation for the erudition of its Fellows nor of the application to study by its students. Three years away from home in the prime of youth was all the students asked for and used that time to the full advantage of their bellies and pricks rather than their heads! It was mainly the Fellows' bellies that received attention though a few were noted for frequenting a particular whore- house while there were most definitely others who had certain liaisons with apprentices or shop-boys in the town who did more than deliver goods from their masters.

As many of the present and past students were the sons of landowners and were from the usual classes of gentry, clergy and minor aristocracy they were seen as the mainstays of the College. However, with the general poor harvests of the past years in the 40's and 50's and the repeal of the Corn Laws, agricultural land was losing its value and owners their income. There was also the diminution in the availability of cheap labour in the villages from the continual movement of workers to the larger towns and the growing cities. With reduced incomes fewer students from the usual classes were applying for Matriculation and the fees and gifts to the College which had been more or less readily forthcoming in the past were diminishing. The expenses of the College were great, not only to keep the Fellows happy at High Table but we had a renowned choir and Choir School which needed a steady income to maintain. My cousin Erasmus as Chaplain, and probably the most erudite and hard-working of the older Fellows, was much exercised over this and at dinner one evening with us just after the Bursar had died said that the College needed someone with good connections and a touch of military discipline to get the finances right. "Who better than George?" was the immediate response of Robin. We knew there would be a considerable hiatus before the College Council would make up its collective mind for an appointment to be made. We knew none of the present Fellows wanted the post so decided to set George as the dog to catch the rabbit! First though, Robin and I talked to Dr Quick who was more than happy to have action taken for he foresaw great problems for the College. He said he would be eternally grateful if a solution could be found.

Within a matter of a week or so George had contacted John Harrison, now risen most rapidly in the employ of the Bank of England as an adviser on financial matters to the Government and important employers. John, with Philip and James Goodhew, had taken a new commodious house on Cheyne Walk in Chelsea by the river and near the College of St Mark where James was now a lecturer in English training would-be schoolmasters. None of them had married, though as John said, they were pursued by fathers with marriageable daughters if not by the daughters themselves. Of course, all three came to Cambridge to get all the details of the College's needs and we spent a convivial weekend in their company as we often had before. After Robin and I outlined the problem we said we had invited the Master, Dr Quick, to dinner for him to ask John if he would take on the task of examining the College finances.

John was intrigued and said he would have to consult a couple of his superiors but he thought there would be no objections for him to prepare a financial plan of action. We heard quickly that the opinion was that it would be disastrous if a College as illustrious as ours was to fail. We were puzzled at the word 'illustrious' but John told us privily that one of the senior clerks' grandfathers had been a Fellow of the College in the past century and had received his own position at the bank through his grandfather's connections.

Though John Harrison had not attended any university he was an avid reader and scholar of any aspect of the 'science of money' as he called it. We knew he was much influenced by the thinking of Mr John Stuart Mill whose books and articles on the subject of the principles of political economy had made John a rising star in the dim and dark areas of the Bank, for even some of the senior clerks there recognised things needed to change in the Bank as well! His argument was that unless the theories were examined and put to test there would be constant trouble with the supply of money, especially with the rise in the manufacturing class. Though Mr Disraeli had wanted to abolish income tax by 1860 the cost of the Crimean War and the increased expenditure by the Government on defence for ships and men meant this burden on a growing number of Her Majesty's subjects was here to stay. John said he wanted good mathematicians and 'practical' philosophers to help him and his colleagues to make better decisions in their reports to Mr Gladstone, who was the present Chancellor of the Exchequer, and if these emanated in part from a noted University their task would be easier. The Governor of the Bank and the others consulted agreed and a proposal was soon drawn up. In effect, Mr John Harrison would arrange for a trusted clerk to make investigations of the College holdings in monies, property, glebe-lands and clergy appointments at no cost to the College other than the proposal for a College Fellowship in an aspect of Political Economy, the funds for which would no doubt be affordable once the finances of the College were settled.

At the next meeting of the College Council the proposal was put to the meeting. Half the Fellows were not interested as long as their indulgent lives were not interfered with. Some of the other half huffed and puffed and complained we were being put to unnecessary investigation, inquiry and probable expense. However, the concerted efforts of the Master, Erasmus Dodd, Robin and me persuaded the College Council at least to agree that a careful scrutiny of what the College owned was of first and prime importance. Also, if we were the first College to pay attention to the financial affairs of the country and of the manufacturing class this would draw in students who were the sons of rich factory owners and functionaries in the growing larger towns and cities. By this time the objectors were either asleep or taking another quiet sip from their brandy flasks so our motion was passed with no objections.

The next item on the agenda, being the purchase of a supply of St Mark's Fire from the monks in Grez, passed with no quibbles at all other than a few snores. Robin raised his eyebrows, for as Fellow in Mathematics he was responsible for the old receipt for the distillation and for arranging payment. This should prove no problem for we were now two bishops further on and the Comte some years before had arranged for better accommodation for the monks. Their numbers had increased and with Mr Johnson's help in selling their produce, which now consisted of a good supply of at least two liqueurs, it meant a steady income for the rebuilt monastery. More than a few flagons would come our way at little cost!

John Harrison was as good as his word. In fact, by the end of the summer term two young men, who had been at the Bank from leaving their London grammar schools, came to the College to begin the monumental task. Where were they to be accommodated? As we were the prime instigators two rooms on our top floor were made ready for them. They were apprehensive at first of the welcome they might receive but were soon put at ease. Our waifs, Jacob and Daniel Fuller, one a graduate and the other just finished his second year, were willing mentors. They had prospered themselves in the College making their way through the choir as boys, youths and now as men. Daniel was intent on making music his career and assisted Dr Powis, now rather aged, in keeping the choir on its toes and keeping me busy learning new settings for the psalms and new anthems in my position as College Organist as well as Honorary Fellow in Medicine! Jacob had studied Theology and Hebrew with Erasmus and was to be ordained deacon at Christmas. Robin also had a promising young mathematician under his guidance who had been attracted to the College by showing mathematical talent at his school and being directed by his master there to read two papers written by Robin on something to do with the theory of prime numbers. This young man would be most useful in unravelling the calculations of interest, compound or simple and the varying amounts owed from assessing sixty kine against one hundred goats for any farms the College might own!

We left the industrious young men with free rein under the watchful eyes of George and his faithful compatriot Mark Dawson while Robin, Timmy and I made a journey to Scotland. We had intended to travel to Rome and Florence but the troubles in that region precluded that. In 1860 North Italy had been freed from Austrian domination but there was still unrest within the Papal States and especially in Southern Italy where much was being heard of the valiant attempts of Garibaldi and his followers to free those parts from the Kingdom of Naples, having been also in the thrall of Spain before. Our journeys there would have to be delayed.

We spent a good month exploring those places we had read about years before in Mr Boswell's journals. I wanted to visit the Hebrides for Dr Mendelssohn's Overture was well- known and often played in concerts we attended. We had read Sir Walter Scott's Waverley novels, and so dressed the part. I think no one had ever before encountered a dark-skinned kilt-clad warrior with his two likewise accoutred accomplices when we visited our old friend Angus Gordon who was now Laird after his father had died. We were more than impressed by the battlemented ancient towering edifice in which he lived. From those battlements we could see far towards the mountain tops across the acres and acres of rolling moors he owned. He wanted news of his other friends, dear George, Cedric Branscombe, Theo Davis and the numerous others who made it their pleasure to descend on us in Cambridge. He said he did not feel isolated but needed friends to visit as well. His wife was the third daughter of an Earl and was a most feisty lady who entertained us at the fortepiano with Gaelic songs and airs. We had dinners preceded in procession by a bagpiper and two kilted foot-boys with sconces of candles, for the interior of the castle was dark and rather forbidding. His sons would not be coming as far south as Cambridge for they were destined in their time for the university in Edinburgh!

Angus took us deer-stalking, not with the intention of killing any of those noble beasts but to experience their stateliness and majesty in their native land. That is not to say we did not enjoy the most succulent roasts of venison at any of the dinners where fellow Highlanders gathered and spoke in almost impenetrable accents.

On our return we found much had been accomplished in a short time. With little effort the auditors, as we termed them, had found documents which showed the ownership of quite substantial tracts of land in both Suffolk and Norfolk which had been let for some twenty years or so though no rents had been claimed from tenants. Visits had been immediately made by dear George in a fine carriage to impress the 'churls', as he called them, but he soon realised they were fine country gentlemen or yeomen of old stock. Although some of the land was in poor condition the tenants were quite happy with their seemingly free land where fathers had died and sons had thought they had inherited. Theo Davis was retained as the lawyer to settle any disputes. On his advice it was decided only to claim the past seven years' rent and, without need to take it to court, eight tenants paid up and only two were deprived of their land. As neither of these was in any need there was no heart searching when their tenancies were foreclosed.

John Harrison's two young men said they had many more documents to peruse with some in Latin going back sometimes two or even three centuries. The ecclesiastical documents were in a parlous state but with help from our Fellow in Classics the Latin and the old handwriting were conquered. In all, the College owned upwards of sixty or so advowsons and each needed careful scrutiny. It soon appeared that some seemed to have been handed down within families through three or more generations without a full endorsement from the College other than the particular son or nephew had been a student at St Mark's before his ordination. There were considerable glebe-lands under clerical control and most often with a proviso that the College should receive a portion. Nearer home there were numerous acres in Shelford, Teversham and other villages which had lain idle for many years after they had been donated to the College. As our pair of auditors progressed it became clear their work would take at least a year or even eighteen months to complete as more and more documents were unearthed from a crypt under the Chapel where they had been carelessly stored.

At the first College Council of the Christmas Term the initial findings were reported. Robin was asked to summarise them in words even the densest and deafest could understand and hear. There was some jubilation, for the College cellars would not run dry nor the Buttery have a scarcity of good beef and pork. The next item was the appointment of a new Bursar. We had already canvassed a few of the dons who showed a little interest in general College affairs without mentioning any names but none wanted the post nor knew of anyone who might be employed.

However, we had suggested Major the Honourable George Lascelles, a veteran of Inkerman, for that post to one don in particular. His name was Dr Smart and he had been engaged on a history of the College from the time he had obtained his bachelor's degree a good few years before. We enjoyed his company for he entertained us sometimes with bawdy tales of the past misdemeanours of members of the College, both dons and undergraduates, from his readings of old documents or the records of past Servants of the Chapel. Dr Smart told us something rather disturbing in response to our suggestion. He said there was an unwritten rule that no person of the name Lascelles could be a student, Fellow, or an officer of the College. He would not divulge what the reason was but it concerned certain students and behaviours in the past century. No one was still in College who would know or remember the reasons but it would doubtless be raised as soon as his name was mentioned.

When we taxed George on this he said there was a tale in his family of some past young Lascelles' scions who had been shipped to Jamaica because they had brought disgrace on the family. That was all he knew and as his father was slipping into the loss of memory which afflicts the aged there was no method of finding out anything more. There was a clear solution. His second name was that of his mother's family so Major the Honourable George L. Marchbanks was 'born' and accepted nemine contradicente as the Bursar of the College. As it happened his father died the next year and his brother Augustus became the next Viscount Harford. He had not attended university but his son, Robert Lascelles, in due course did find a place at Cambridge though at Clare College.

The industrious young men took the full eighteen months to place both the known and the obscure College finances in order. George, with Mark Dawson ever as his coachman, took good note of the places noted in the documents and made many more journeys traversing the nearby counties, towns and villages to survey and to make known our claims. With his good nature and judgement George made many friends for the College amongst the gentry and others he met though having to warn a good few on the subject of payments due from the past and for the future. In all it was then estimated that a sum of around twenty-five thousand pounds would be the true income of the College if all debts and future payments were made. One could say there was universal rejoicing at this and there was no objection when the Statute to provide for a Fellowship in Political Economy was petitioned. In fact Mr John Harrison was raised to the status of Master of Arts by decree and became the first such Fellow, much to our pleasure. His able assistants were rapidly raised in status within the Bank and were always welcome at College functions. In all there was an immediate influence of the College in Government through John's appointment and a succession of graduates became members of the growing Civil Service advising on financial matters.

John Harrison's Fellowship meant the trio of friends had their close harmony broken for he took up accommodation in commodious rooms in College and, by some careful wording of the Statute, did not have to take Holy Orders. However, Philip and James Goodhew still maintained the house in Chelsea as Philip said the light was just right for the studio he had constructed facing the river while James's library was growing apace! It was within the next few years Philip was also raised in status and was appointed ARA, an Associate of the Royal Academy of Art.

In 1863 we had made our minds up to make the journey to New York and beyond in company of my cousin Nicholas and his confederates Cornelius Button and Richard Red Hawk. However, we found that was not to be. Civil War had broken out and we could not even use that term about the trio as we heard they were Yankees! We found out later on the visit we made, without Timmy, in 1867 that the trio had been active in what was known as the 'Slave Railway' where fugitives were helped to flee their past servitude and, often, cruel masters. It was on this voyage we were accompanied by Philip Goodhew who captivated the matrons of New York with the quickly executed, but superb, portraits he drew or painted. He was tempted to stay but had become a valued member of the Royal Schools and was in great demand for both portraits and larger works.

One person whose life became a whirl of overseas visits and advancement in his chosen field was dear Natty Dyer. Professor Bayes had been most helpful in finding him a position as a lowly member of the staff of the British Museum. However, it wasn't long before his researches into the meaning and interpretation of Egyptian hieroglyphs outstripped even those who were considered experts in that field. He had been on at least three journeys to the Pyramids and the Valley of the Kings and had brought back many drawings and papyri as well as artefacts from tombs to add to the holdings of the Museum. With his growing expertise he was also prevailed upon to examine the many undeciphered inscriptions held by the University College. By 1870 he was not only named as a Keeper in Egyptology at the museum but also as a lecturer in that subject at University College. Though without an university degree, he had been named early as a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London. With the death of Aubrey Bayes he also became the beneficiary of both Professor and Mrs Bayes and was now the occupier of their house in Gower Street with the twins from Careby, now fine young men, as his devoted servants. More than servants in fact, for each had studied hard at the Mechanics Institute now called Birkbeck College and were both Bachelors of Arts of the University of London and instructors in History at that College and at University College.

If 'Godless Gower Street' accommodated them then its rival, King's College, in the Strand, was now the institution at which James Goodhew was a member. He had been appointed lecturer in English Language and Literature and was to become full Professor in that subject in 1870. In all, that year was a notable one for our friends and for us in particular.

The University wanted to increase the number of Professorships, for student numbers were increasing and new subjects were being taught such as Science, as Natural Philosophy was now termed. The College had one Fellow who held a professorship in Astronomy and another held a chair in History. There had been one in Arabic but that was in abeyance for lack of any scholar in that strange language either within the college or the wider University. It caused amusement when the Professor of Astronomy announced in the Senior Combination Room one evening that a predecessor was more adept at preparing astrological predictions than peering through his telescope at the Heavens. He had been most successful and had amassed quite a fortune until he had to flee to Ely and plead for sanctuary at the Cathedral there for he had told the Mayor his daughter would have an Immaculate Conception when he perceived a conjunction of Mars with Venus. She did become pregnant, but by an apprentice of her father and not the Holy Ghost! His story was tut-tutted over by some of the more pious dons but we had few of those!

With the increased fortunes in the College finances Statutes were prayed for from the Senate of the University for Chairs in Mathematics, Divinity, Medicine and French Language and Literature to be held by Fellows within the College. This fourth was to commemorate the memory of that refugee from the French Terror who had bequeathed what monies he had to the College together with a stretch of land he had inherited in the valley of the Loire. With the success of the delving into the old financial documents it was readily proposed that this bequest should be examined. The relevant documents were found and, although the French was ancient I, with the help of my mother, translated them and decided the messuage was outside the town of Vierzon. There was even a clear description of the lie of the land which was set to vineyards at the time of the bequest. Who better then to visit the area and see the lie of the land? Me, with Robin, of course! We would then have to consult French advocats who could pursue une cause civile over ownership. Who better for that than taking the advice of the Johnson twins and their possible contacts in the law?

That expedition had to be delayed for over two years until the hostilities between France and Germany were settled but while the Johnsons were with us we set up our own battle plans. They had good maps of the area so would be able to pinpoint the actual and quite considerable holding. The laws as they stood owed much still to the rule of Napoleon so who owned what should have been clear though they had doubts if the 'owners' said they had inherited it within this century. The College was content to wait and in the meantime the prayers were answered, or carried, in University terminology. My cousin, Erasmus, was appointed Professor of Divinity while Robin became Professor of Mathematics to our great delight. Dr Quick was now not only Master but also Professor of Medicine. Perhaps as a sop I was appointed to be a physician in ordinary to Addenbrooke's Hospital and my finances increased somewhat!

As soon as it was feasible, action was taken in regard to the land in France. The College finances improved again for the whole acreage, or whatever the French measured land area in, was proved to be ours and all was wrested from the control of the local commune who had taken control of it at the time of the Terror. The land was still mainly vineyards but these had been badly maintained and had also become infected with some type of blight. The decision was made to sell the land back to the commune and this was accepted, perhaps a little too eagerly for the price agreed seemed rather low. The Johnsons said it was better to accept the money now rather than going to needless expense in employing lawyers for the commune would, no doubt, find some legal loophole to claim the properties back with little or no payment.

It was in March1871 that my dear father died. He was now over eighty and had survived all those later years with the removal of any care about the stables now under the supervision of my brother Torquil, though he still took a keen interest in the horses and their welfare. It was a peaceful death. He went to bed one evening and could not be woken the next morning. There was general mourning not only in the village but throughout the county and beyond. His good heart and manners in business were a byword within the horse-using community. My mother received letters of condolence from far and wide. One was from William Russell, the Eighth Duke of Bedford, who had bought hunters in the last ten years or so on recommendation. Others were from men of lowlier status but who had been fully confident that any horseflesh they purchased would be of the highest quality for their needs.

Our great desire at that time was to make the delayed journey to Italy. Of course, we had heard descriptions of the wonders of that country from Philip Goodhew and others, including my Aunt Fanny, which had whetted our appetites. After Uncle Digby died Aunt Fanny was more ready to tell us about Florence and its treasures which she had seen so many years before. Also, after my Uncle's death, she had offered the renowned statue of Curly to my brothers and me for safe keeping. Though both Torquil and Terence would have liked to own it, after some discussion they thought it best if the youngest brother, me, should be its guardian! Curly became a great talking point and a wonderful fixture in a corner of our drawing room on King's Parade. It also became a magnet for any young male visitor.

The tale of how to make him smile was whispered to all, though as far as was known the smile had never appeared. However, the constant attention over the years had resulted in a certain portion of his anatomy to acquire a gleaming polish. Even when my nephews Peter and Philemon became students of the College and were most frequent visitors the ceremony became a great, though surreptitious, ritual. In fact, Robin recounted how he had entered the room where the pair with four of their fellows, all in striped shirts and cotton drawers before going to play football, seemed intent in raising more than a smile. He said one was running his fingers up and down the little cock, another was trying to squeeze the miniature ballsack, two were intent on tweaking the prominent nipples, the fifth was stroking his buttocks, and the sixth, the tallest, was licking Curly's lips with a long pink tongue. The nipple-tweaking pair were Philly and Peto as we called them and from that last description I knew he was one of our Law students, Partridge by name, whose father was a lawyer and lived in the house next door to us. In fact, Mr Partridge Senior had become a friend as well as a great help in legal matters both for us and the College. After he gained his degree young Partridge joined his father's firm of solicitors and also became another fixture in our lives.

However, the lads were so engaged in their task they did not see Robin who retreated, but not before he had noted all had most prominent bulges in their flimsy trousers! It also reminded us of Wharton who, all those years ago, had vowed to visit Greece to find if Greek lads were less-endowed as depicted on ancient pots and statues. He had visited us in Cambridge soon after he had made that promised journey and asserted that after observing numerous youths cavorting in the sea they were now just as any of us had been at that age. Perhaps, I said, in the thousand years or so since the depictions they had evolved as Mr Darwin had suggested we had over the millennia!

I was glad we had Curly, for a disaster had occurred when my two marble carvings were being sent from Steven Goodhew's barn to the house in Cambridge after we moved in. There was little problem in their loading at Careby and being put on the train wagon which transported them to Cambridge station. Here one was unloaded successfully and placed in the base of the cart hired for the purpose. The second was just being hoisted from the railway wagon and was suspended some feet above the other when the straps holding it slipped or broke and it fell corner-wise onto the one below. The impact caused both to almost crumble to dust. Only fragments were left and only one piece, the left bollock of the thrusting man, was more than recognisable. That piece was kept and placed on a cabinet near Curly to show him what a proud Indian possessed which much outdid his own more meagre endowments. Not that it would worry him for, as with the footballers and their actions, he was caressed and cherished most regularly!

Italy was now a more or less united country. We had discussed a possible journey a number of times but on each occasion there was news of some faction or other fighting and brawling over the various states. We took note of the various disputes even though more hardy, or even foolhardy, travellers made expeditions to see the sights but we thought it safer to wait.

It was with a great deal of relief to all that the unification of the whole of the country had occurred in 1870. However, with the duties we had accumulated for each of us, it was not until the Easter of 1872 we were able to put our desires into fruition. We had decided that Easter was a suitable time as France was now more settled for travel and the weather would not be too hot in Italy for the explorations we wished to make. An intrepid quartet set off, Jeremy Mead being the fourth member. He said that without him the quacks in the market-place could prescribe for any of the ladies of uncertain age who seemed to have a succession of unimaginable aches and pains. He did confess he would miss the fees he had charged them! He had able assistants who would not allow his pharmacies to succumb to rack and ruin! With that in mind we had assigned him the task of planning the journey which he did with much consultation of maps and timetables for the railways.

This was the longest journey any of us had made by the railway. Jeremy had done his planning well. We spent four days in Paris meeting again with the Johnson twins. Jeremy had not been there before and we were able to regale him with all the stories of our times in that also most interesting city especially as the Johnsons had repaired and renovated the H"tel de Roanne once again where we stayed in their company. We then trundled southwards via Dijon to Grenoble where the railway at that time ended. We hired carriages to take us across the mountain passes to Turin in Italy where we were able to make the journey onwards by train. We stopped a day or two wherever our fancy took us and explored places such as Piacenza, Parma and Bologna before taking the railway across country to Pistoia and thence to Firenze which we had learned was the Italian name for Florence. Here we spent six days. First of all we ogled the David by Michelangelo standing in the Piazza della Signoria. "What a big boy!" breathed Jeremy then he relapsed into giggles. Robin said he'd observed something bigger even on Jeremy when he had joined us in the College pool. We dare not pass comment on Timmy who beat all, even dear Jabez, and stood now with a smug look on his face. We had to buy small replicas to keep on our mantelpieces - ours in full view of Curly who was not too different when we did a careful comparison on our return! We viewed the Bargallo, the Pitti Palace and the Uffizi and waved away the hordes of lads who offered us the use of their sisters, or their own mouths or arses. From the parts displayed to us by the more audacious I decided also that Curly's and David's descendants had also evolved to what might be considered normal in England, Scotland and France now! We were much amused when we were instructed to stroke the nose of the porcellino, the bronze statue of the boar standing in the Mercato Nuovo, and leave a coin, for that meant we would return to Florence. The amusement was heightened by the brightness of the polished nose. Robin whispered "Curly!" and Timmy gave the nose a second rub! "It didn't smile" he said with a disappointed grimace.

The next stage of our journey took us to Rome where we arrived on the Tuesday after Easter. We were told there had been a grand Easter gathering where the Pope had blessed the crowds. As in Florence we hired a cicerone, an elderly man with quite passable English who guided us to all the sites from Roman times onwards. We gaped rather at the huge Colosseum and stumbled through the overgrown paths near the Forum and our journeys in a carrozza both to the Appian Way and the Capitoline Hills gave us more links to our schoolboy studies of Latin and Roman history. Our private viewing of the Sistine Chapel through the auspices of Father Niall Keegan, who was now a teacher at the Venerable English College, was something none of us would ever forget. The masterful artistry of Michelangelo, but now as a painter rather than a sculptor, in that whole ceiling and the wall painting of the Last Judgement made us gape in amazement. Niall took us into the library and we were enthralled with the display from huge decorated hymnals and books to be seen by all in a choir to tiny missals printed small so as not to be detected easily by priest-hunters in Elizabethan times. He gave us letters to pass to his brother and to the family he had lodged with in Stamford and also to Mr Grindcobbe's son there as well. Niall was also a Doctor, of Sacred Theology, and we heard soon after our return to England that he had been appointed a papal chamberlain and so raised in status to be a Monsignor.

We were rather overwhelmed with all the sight-seeing and had planned to venture further south to Napoli but were warned of the even more insanitary conditions which prevailed there so we spent a few more days in Rome before taking to the railway for our return journey. Our porters at each stop must have wondered what was contained in all our chests and bags. We had bought a good number of what we were told were ancient artefacts though Jeremy on one of his early morning walks had said there were small workshops where he was sure those so-called authentic objects were made. We did not care for they would remind us of many happy days. Tired, quite flea-bitten and sore-footed, we returned to regale any unwary visitors with a full, or even shortened, version of our impressions of that quite beautiful and history-laden country. We presented my aged Aunt Fanny with a copy of David which she had remembered seeing some sixty years before.

With the death of my father Torquil and Elizabeth had now moved into Careby Hall to be with my mother who was showing the unwelcome signs of advanced age. The Manor was let almost immediately to a retired gentleman who had made his money on the Stock Exchange. He had a wife and grown-up children who soon became part of the village life. However, this did not please Amelia, Torquil's and Elizabeth's daughter. From a small girl she had always been contrary. She had had a succession of nurses and governesses when living in Charles Street and none were able to make her learn. She refused to read and was spiteful to any other child who came to visit with their parents. She did have one friend, though, the daughter of a family also in Charles Street. Kitty Mitchell was the same age and did have some influence over her behaviour. Amelia barely tolerated servants who also asked to leave their positions with regularity because of her frequent tantrums. I knew Elizabeth despaired of her behaviour but no form of entreaty other than the promise of another visit to the dressmaker or to a suitable theatre performance satisfied the growing child. The move to Careby only seemed to make her sulks and vapours worse as she entered her twenties, for theatres and dressmakers needed frequent trips to London. On the hateful railway with its smoke and noise and smelly people, according to her. Her poor mother accompanied her on these visits and it was poor Torquil's purse which bore the brunt of her constant demands for finery and fripperies.

It was when Kitty and her mother visited Elizabeth and Torquil at Careby Hall also at Easter in 1872 that matters came to a head. Kitty announced she would be getting married in the autumn. There was silence until the mother and daughter left. Tantrum after tantrum from a twenty-six year old is not what one might expect and they followed even with her throwing a valuable vase at the wall in temper. Amelia had never shown any interest in the young men who had been present at dinners, the theatre or dances. Two of the sons of the family who were now in the Manor were either side of her in age but she showed no attraction to either though they were most eligible as consorts. In desperation, as Amelia was adamant she would not attend her friend Kitty's wedding, Elizabeth asked what she wanted to do. Her reply was one not expected. She wished to visit Italy for she had heard of the plans for our adventure and on our visit to Careby on our return she had, at least, the grace to sit and listen without fidgeting or making some sotto voce disparaging remark. Actually, she had shown a certain deference to Robin for she was quite aware of the close family relationship between him and her. It was a wary deference to her half-brother, but he did receive a smile which she rarely showed to any other of the family. Uncle Tom was just seen as someone who cured the stupid sick, for she always maintained she was quite hale and hearty even when on one occasion, much to my amusement, she did not stray far from the water closet after over-indulging in ripe fruit.

Elizabeth asked our advice. Would it be safe to make the journey? We thought it would be for we had observed several mothers with daughters in the hotels and pensions we had stayed at. A suitable companion would be advisable and though Kitty was persona non grata her cousin, Felicity Devereux, was adjudged to be acceptable by the haughty young madam. September was chosen for it would be still hot but not unbearable. That journey was fateful. Only Felicity and Elizabeth's maid returned to England. All was well with Florence and Rome though little seemed to please Amelia greatly especially if Felicity or her mother expressed their own pleasure in seeing some sight. Amelia then demanded they should make the journey to Napoli, or Naples as it was known in English. The lack of understanding of Italian, and especially the dialects spoken, meant they made the mistake of travelling just as an outbreak of cholera was raging there. Both Elizabeth and Amelia were stricken and died and the others only survived because their female cicerone put them on the first available train out of the city. The pair were able to find Father Keegan in Rome who was able to help them with the journey to England and they travelled in the company of four nuns who were being sent to a convent in London. The loss of his wife and daughter broke the heart and any further resolve of my dear brother and hastened the death of my mother who did not last more than another two months.

Robin and I forsook our duties in Cambridge and spent an unhappy month in Careby trying to console Torquil, my brother and Robin's father. My cousin Lancelot said he would take care that Torquil would come to no harm for he had complained he now had nothing to live for after his adored Elizabeth had died. He made little mention of Amelia but did commission a memorial plaque commemorating both for the village church and insisted that Liam, who was now in sole charge of the work at the masons, should carve a rose by Amelia's name with rosemary for remembrance by Elizabeth's. It was noticeable that Liam included a thorn on the rose's stem.

Liam was now in charge of the work at the stone-masons for Steven Goodhew was confined to bed with what was most certainly 'stone-mason's chest'. I was certain his lungs had been almost petrified over the years by inhaling the fine dust from the carving he had done. My Robin's foster-father passed from this life in 1874. Liam's beautiful tribute to him was a fine memorial plaque placed on the wall beside the altar in the church and incorporated carvings of all the tools of that profession in high relief. I had impressed on Liam that he, Charles Truman, now a partner in the enterprise, and his apprentices should wear masks of fine gauze when carving and from witnessing poor Steven's condition they readily agreed.

It was in 1875 that a minor miracle occurred. My cousin Lancelot got married! He had always maintained he was much too busy and pre-occupied to contemplate such a step. However, Millicent Jefferson, who had married well had been recently widowed. Lancelot was called to treat one of her sons who still lived at home and romance flourished. It was the son who said his mother should 'pop the question' and, we suspected with some prodding by the son, Lancelot proposed and was accepted. It was a happy marriage and my dear cousin, who had set me on the course to my profession, played his role as paterfamilias with aplomb as if he had been in that position for years.

1876 - 1896

Our busy lives continued through the next two decades. We were constantly exhorted in letters from my cousin Nicholas that we should visit America again after our last journey there some nine years previous. As it happened both Robin and I had missed most of the celebrations of the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park way back in 1851. Though we had dutifully attended and wandered through the pavilions under the vast glass and metal edifice neither of us had been too enamoured with the sheer extent of all the exhibits, nor with the press of the crowds. It was probably our fault for making our visit on a Saturday when thronged with many on day trips advertised for the poorer classes. However, in 1875 Nicholas had written to say he and Cornelius had been asked to advise on some temporary buildings for a Centennial Exhibition in Philadelphia to celebrate the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Studying a map we found it to be not too far from New York though distances in that vast country seemed to be further than in our own land. There was a second enticement for Robin had been in correspondence for some years with an eminent mathematician at Harvard University in Boston. We could kill two birds with one stone, as dear Robin said, a symposium in Massachusetts he could take part in, and a visit to the city of brotherly love in Pennsylvania. That is, as long as no glass would be shattered in any building constructed like the Crystal Palace with said stone! I did remind him that a symposium was originally a drinking session and he should not imbibe too much of the rye whiskey we had tasted before. I said I thought I preferred the Scotch whisky - without the 'e'!

This time we were to have the Johnson twins as our companions. It was their first visit to America so had to be instructed about dollars as the currency. When we met them at the docks before our departure we had little luggage compared with their travelling trunks. They explained at least one was full of drawings and designs for they had been approached by a rich American who had been touring Europe and wanted an authentic French chateau built on his vast acreage in Connecticut near a town named Norwich. We laughed for here was another settlement named after an English city and probably near in England where the original Buttons had come from. It would not be difficult to fit their visit in for while Robin and I were in Boston they could be taken to Norwich by Nicholas who had written to say he knew the area well.

Friends had joshed us saying all the invitations were probably a ruse to get a few Englishmen there so at least a re-enactment of the Boston Tea Party could be staged and we might be dropped in the water with the tea chests! I had to point out that Mr Button was probably descended from one of the families who had taken part both in the war against George and in signing the declaration so we should have some protection. So in August 1876 we set sail. We did need protection: from the heat! New York in August was hot and we found that Philadelphia was even hotter. Notwithstanding this we were made most welcome and were wined and dined quite sumptuously by the various groups who had been responsible for setting the themes of the exhibition. It was at the exhibition we first experienced Mr Bell's telephone. It reminded us of our endeavours at Ashbourne with our primitive telegraph but here was a device which actually transmitted speech. We were sure many who tried out the apparatus were convinced it was a new version of a speaking-tube with very narrow holes running within the wires. We heard several shouting into the mouthpiece as they thought their voices would not carry otherwise to the next room!

Cornelius then accompanied us to Harvard for he, as an alumnus, was placing a tender for the design and building of a new concert hall. He was uncertain if his plans would be accepted for he had decided on more 'modern' aspects for the construction, but, as he said, plans are never wasted, someone else would desire to spend their money in a city somewhere else!

In Harvard we were feted again. Over the years I had been more and more aware of

how intense mathematicians can be over their ideas and how abstruse their arcane language of symbols could be. My Robin was, no doubt, in the forefront of those strange creatures and was forever scribbling down even more and more complex notions. He was often lost in a seeming daydream until his whole being would light up as another deep enigma was conquered. I forbore from sitting and watching the group of eminent men as board after board would have been, no doubt, covered with calculations and pondered over. I, instead, was asked to speak to a group of fellow medical men about recent advances in treatment in Europe. Having been to Paris a few months previously I was able to discourse on recent thinking on a variety of topics. I made a great point of the growing interest in the germ theory of disease. I could only say I had noted different types of organism when looking at urine or sputum samples under the microscope and suggested this should be followed up with a deal of rigour as it was in my opinion, and of a growing number of others, that each disease might be the result of infection by a specific organism. I spoke also of the use of more powerful antiseptics and the work of Joseph Lister in Edinburgh on antisepsis. I told of my own successes in that field with the use of weak carbolic, which killed the organisms I had observed, and Dr Lister was sure of its efficacy by using a fine spray of the liquid during operations. I think the gentlemen were rather amused when I told of Her Majesty having had an abscess lanced by him with the use of carbolic to prevent the onset of sepsis. There was interest, too, in the work being done on the prevention of anthrax in cattle and the associated diseases in tanners and wool-sorters. My information from my last visit to Paris was that a suitable vaccine might soon be found just as it had for the prevention of smallpox. I was made very aware that the younger members of the group were more open to new ideas as I noted a couple of the older gentlemen shaking their heads and asserting they found their treatments were in the main quite effective without recourse to any new theory. One of the younger fellows remarked 'effective for a journey to an early grave!'.

On our return to New York we met our friends the Johnsons again who were quite ecstatic for the American had immediately fallen in love with what they proposed and had paid them an unbelievable sum for their drawings and designs and wanted them to stay and supervise the building. They had to decline this offer because of their commitments in Paris but arranged that two of their assistants would be sent to make sure all went to plan. They did invest in some acreage in Baltimore on the advice of Cornelius Button. He was sure that with the railway there the demand for new building land would rise before long. This was so for we heard some five years later they had trebled their investment when the land was sold to developers.

While in New York we found out much more about my cousin's and Cornelius's enterprise. With due modesty Nicholas said they had progressed to being consulted on many of the major building projects in the city and the surrounding towns. The pair had taken on several young architects and draughtsmen and were active in the employment of their own workforce of bricklayers, stonemasons and labourers. It was also most interesting for Richard Red Hawk was now a full partner in their company of architects. I was very impressed with the beautiful drawings he had prepared for the construction not only of the building designed for the exhibition but also by the working plans for a new multi-storied hotel in New York which he had drawn up himself. We heard that because of the very stable ground there were many plans for higher and higher buildings in the city and he had been given the opportunity to provide the design and the calculations for load-bearing for such a colossal structure.

Of course, we invited the trio to visit us in Cambridge but knew that for them time was precious because of the demands for their expertise. We heard of the need for the rapid expansion in the city and surrounding area of suitable accommodation and work-places for the many new immigrants arriving from all over Europe but especially from Germany and some of the Scandinavian countries. Wherever there were wars or rumours of war then there was migration and the same was for famine or persecution. We knew this had been so with the influx of Huguenots into London in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and the scattering of Scots and Irish through displacement in the earlier years of this century. Our own Liam and Niall had suffered the loss of their families and though we had enquired more while in New York there was still no further information.

On our return to Cambridge we found all was in order and our tales of travel were accepted with the usual stoicism from our household. Dear George however was much enamoured with the Red Indian headdress we brought him but said he was not appearing in either that or the leather breechclout and leggings in his own travels around Cambridge and the county. Poor Curly was adorned with both the headdress and the breechclout much to the amusement of any of the choirboys or students who were constant visitors for tea and cakes. As usual the influx of new students kept us busy advising them and treating their over-used organs of generation. I was minded to write a handbook of advice with the admonition they should keep those ever-erect appendages safe in their drawers and rely on their fists to relieve urgent desires. I desisted, however, for I was not sure if the profit from any sales would be more than the fees I received for peering at reddened, weeping, and now flaccid 'williams' attached to the despondent and chastened seekers after the joys of Venus. Whether the treatments I advocated were efficacious was a moot point. I knew of a number over the years who had succumbed in early life to the ulcers I had seen on the Minister of State in Versailles so many years ago. His end was the dreaded paralysis of the insane which was the finality also for those as well. It was called the French Pox but could have been termed the English Disease as well but I knew that was reserved as the description across La Manche for the perceived love of the English male for flagellation! Yes, we did have a number of requests each year for salves for bruised and sometimes bleeding arsecheeks!

On a more agreeable note our musical life in Cambridge had always been important to us and was one of continual enrichment. Robin and I had joined the Cambridge University Music Society as soon as our studies allowed. This society had been founded just a few years before we became undergraduates and had an orchestra which we joined and played in whenever we could. We had heard a few scurrilous tales of its earlier years when it was then attached to Peterhouse but away from that College it had gained a much better reputation. I think we also improved in our playing now we were with more accomplished players. However, even when he was Master of St Mark's dear Robin was happy in the ranks of the second violins. His valued Cremona instrument though did rouse a certain envy from his fellow players. Flautists were almost two a penny but I usually managed to squeeze in as principal flute for I had taken extra lessons from an elderly German who, as a young man, had played in orchestras conducted by Beethoven. As well as works by composers such as Beethoven and Amadeus Mozart from years past there was always new music placed before us and we were visited by many renowned musicians including our own Frederick Neville, who also delighted audiences with his solo recitals. Sometimes we wondered what a particular composer wanted to convey but, even with Johannes Brahms' First Symphony in 1877, which the famous Dr Joachim conducted, all were more or less consistently entranced. The puzzle, though in that particular work, was when had the composer heard the hour- chimes of St Mary's? The majestic beginning of his last movement almost echoed their well- known tune?

We did not quite become inured to the almost constant news of friends and relatives passing away but, as we advanced in years, so we suffered many losses. In late1876 my Uncle Billy and Aunt Mary were the next to depart this life and my Aunt Fanny followed soon after. In London the older part of the establishment at Charles Street began to diminish. Lord Falconer and Mr Pembridge relinquished their roles as secret guardians of the Queen's Peace and neither had a long retirement. Mr Purrett assumed the main role from his Lordship and both Jabez and Mehmet took over many of the duties of the others who had retired. The pair were signally involved with the spectacular, but not-reported, capturing of an intending assassin of the Queen and the Prime Minister, Mr Disraeli, when she arrived at the Houses of Parliament at one time. The arrest of the man led to the discovery of another Fenian plot to cause disruption and disorder in London and in Liverpool and, from whispers we heard, it would have caused great chaos if the ringleaders had not been thwarted and disposed of in some way.

Aunt Mary's nephew, Francis Clifford, had gone up to Oxford, at his father's insistence, after leaving Harrow. As soon as he had graduated his father had also insisted he joined Her Majesty's Diplomatic Service as he had done. We heard of all this from his visits to Cambridge usually in the company of Freddy Neville. On one of his postings Francis had entered a disastrous marriage to the daughter of someone who could only be described as a slave trader. He averred he had not known of the father's evil trading to the Southern States of America and seemed very relieved when she would not accompany him on his return to Britain when his next posting was announced. It was fortuitous they did not have children and she disappeared from sight and was heard of no more. After twenty years in Her Majesty's Service and succeeding to the Viscountcy on his father's demise he moved to Moss Hall and ran the now-thriving estate in Freddy's absences abroad on his concert tours.

In January 1879 two particular and close deaths occurred. First, the Master of St Mark's, Professor Quick, succumbed to a bout of pneumonia. He was adamant he wanted no treatment. 'An old man's release' he croaked when I did give him a relieving balsam for his cough. Then, within the same week, dear Erasmus passed away. There were no warning signs. His gyp went to his bedroom at half past seven in the morning as usual and found him lying peacefully. I was devastated. I had looked up to my erudite cousin as someone I could confide any worries I had. He had been kindness itself, not only to me but to the generations of students who had passed their three years in the College and often needed help and encouragement. It was most noticeable that his style of preaching had changed for the old Erasmus in his village church was too much of the scholar for his unlearned congregation but in College his homilies were full of wise and gentle thoughts to set youthful minds at rest over their 'lapses from grace' as they were euphemistically termed.

Two appointments had to be made. The first, a new Chaplain for the College, was immediate. Jacob Palmer had remained in College after his ordination and achieved his Doctorate of Divinity at a young age with a commentary on the Gospel of Mark in the New Testament. He had acted as an assistant to Erasmus so a hastily called College Council elected him as the new Chaplain. The Mastership had also to be agreed by the College Council but then had to receive Royal Assent. On Saturday the twenty-ninth of March 1879 my lover and boon companion, Robin Goodhew, was elected Master of St Mark's to general approbation! He received a hand-written letter of congratulation from Her Majesty with the signed and sealed document of his election. The extra missive seemed strange at the time but my brother Terence, now retired as a Colonel of the regiment, did say that a certain Brunswick family connection might be involved. No more was said and the letter was kept locked away.

As well as being Master Dr Quick had also been Professor of Medicine in the College. I was asked if I would put myself forward for that position but I declined. I valued my existing title of Honorary Fellow and Physician to the College and was not prepared to take on extra duties. I would support my companion in all he had to do as Master but was content to remain as I was. One of my early students, Benjamin Fawcett, who had prepared his bachelor's degrees and then his doctorate under my supervision some years previously, was appointed and became an even more valued friend and colleague.

Of course, we saw many changes in the ensuing years. Our travels took us to many parts of the different countries which were being formed in the greater Europe. As Master of St Mark's and a past graduate of the University of Heidelberg dear Robin was conferred with a further Doctorate honoris causa of that University. It caused some amusement for in his address to the students after the ceremony he displayed some of the beautiful three- dimensional models he had got Liam, Charles Truman and the apprentices to carve in marble and other stones from his calculations of various mathematical functions. I had received one as a present at Christmas some time before which I valued highly. Robin had studied numerous wings of birds and had set their curves in mathematical terms. This was one which he said showed how the flow of the air around the wing of the falcon helped the bird to rise and swoop with ease and speed. I named it 'Goodhew's Cusp' and this was the name given it in the paper he published with the long and incomprehensible equations, to me, for a number of the shapes.

In August 1886 a dreadful tragedy occurred. My brother Torquil, though still the owner of the stud and stables at Careby Hall, had relinquished the running of the very profitable establishment to the sons of Mr Mead and Mr Temple who had been my father's overseers. Georgie Mead and Billy Temple, who were a little younger than me, were a cheerful pair and kept everything in order and supplied many with their hunters and the omnibus companies with the more powerful drayhorses. However, Torquil showed little interest in their endeavours and had more or less become a recluse in Careby Hall with just a couple of servants under dear Benjy as his butler. The Hall was becoming a wreck inside and out. Nothing I or Terence could say or comment upon made any impression on Torquil's mood. Both of us removed many items which we valued knowing that Torquil had no concern about them and waved a dismissive hand when we asked if we might take them. In fact, between us we took many of the pictures, books and, especially, the plate of the boy with the hare. Torquil seemed not to miss any of them. Although he did not seem to drink a good deal Benjy said he was often in a daze after his dinner and he made sure bottles were removed before they were emptied. Lancelot said he was not a sot but that his mental faculties seemed to have atrophied in some way after the deaths of his beloved wife and daughter. Though rancorous, and more than awkward, Torquil had still loved his Amelia.

The summer had been very hot and towards the end of August a terrible storm blew up. Three nearby church steeples were struck by lightning as the tempest raged. Careby Hall was struck, not once but twice, and what with the dryness of the timbers the building caught fire in both places. There was little the village fire fighters could do. The single pump they had was quite insufficient for the force of the blaze which ensued,. Even the cisterns in the roof were dry as Torquil had slept on the ground floor and never ventured above. With several almighty crashes the roof collapsed and the dry timbers just added to the inferno. From reports given after, Benjy got the other servants out safely, then realised that my brother was still inside. He bravely went back but neither he nor my brother survived and Careby Hall was no more.

There was a joint funeral as Terence and I decreed that they had died together and, in fact, when found the two bodies were together for it seemed that Benjy had tried to drag Torquil out from the blazing wreckage. There was hardly enough room in the church for all the mourners who came from far and wide to pay their respects. A mounted guard from Torquil's former regiment, with a complement of marching troopers with fifes and drums, accompanied the coffins as they were brought from the Assembly Halls, where they had been placed the night before, to the church. On one side of the body of the church were Benjy's sisters and their husbands, sons, daughters and grandchildren. On the Browning side my brother Terence was in his uniform with Caleb beside him. I was with Robin and George and we were surrounded by my sisters their husbands and their offspring from London and from Scotland. My brother-in-law, the Right Reverend James Canning, now the retired bishop of Kerslake, was ready to conduct the service and was robed and seated in the choir. There was one person who was missing. Jenny Goodhew, Torquil's first love and my Robin's mother, was too overcome to attend but was seated at home comforted by three of her closest village friends. Robin had been to see her earlier that morning and I had accompanied him and she had kissed us both fondly.

The service was quiet and dignified. There was no village band in position now in the gallery. After Mr Venables died some years previous the current rector had quietly made it plain that their role was now to entertain rather than to accompany services. With some grumbles they had accepted this stricture and the organ was now the sole instrument used. My nephews, Peter and Philemon, read the lessons and Terence spoke movingly of our brother's and Robin's father's life and the staunch and devoted service to the Browning family by Benjy. He emphasised he was more a friend than a servant. My tears flowed at that sentiment. After the final blessing we moved to the graveside outside for the committal. Torquil would lie beside our mother and father in perpetuity and I prayed, as an almost non- believer, that when my time came I would lie there, too, with dear Robin beside me also in his time. Benjy's grave was that of his father and mother and the headstone had been removed ready for his name to be added.

Benjy's committal came first. His sisters, with Robin, Terence, Lancelot and me, stood by the opened grave. First there was a roll of drums from the attendant bandsmen as the coffin was lowered. Then, as James Canning uttered those final words 'Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust', we each cast a handful of good Careby soil to say farewell to such a good soul. We all took our places by my brother's grave and that ceremony was repeated. A final blessing was spoken and our tears were shed once more.

The whole village joined the families and other mourners in the Assembly Rooms after the committal. I spoke to as many as I could and with some I had not seen for years such as Rowley Roberts who had been promoted early and had moved to take charge of a large railway station further north. Five of the Westrups were there with their wives and were full of admiration for Robin and his position as Master of St Mark's. Two others I had to speak to were my old friends, Isaac and Jacob Barker. Both had married once they were settled as the Constables for the village. They were no different than of old, just greyer and more portly. I had seen them many times over the years and we had remained good friends for they had visited us in Cambridge as well. One person I did see and made a beeline for was someone in a plain black suit standing next to his brother. I had seen him just two years before on another visit to Rome. He was another bishop, though in plain clothes so as not to cause a stir. It was Niall Keegan, now a papal nuncio and apostolic vicar in London. He said he could not forget the time when he had to help the distraught pair of ladies after the deaths of Elizabeth and Amelia and came to pay his respects on the death of Torquil. Just then my brother-in-law spotted him and two bishops of two branches of the Christian faith shook hands. James and Niall were acquainted for two of James' ordinands had made the change from Church of England to the Church of Rome after their involvement with what was known as the Ritualistic Movement at Oxford. Good-hearted James was concerned for their welfare so had corresponded with Niall at the Venerable College in Rome over their future.

Gradually the numbers melted away until just close members of the two families were left. Both Robin and I had of course known Benjy's sisters who were older than him and we commiserated with each other over the losses. We found that one of the grandsons was ready to go to the other St Mark's to train as a schoolmaster in the Art department there. Robin gave him his card with an introduction to his brother Philip who still lived in Cheyne Walk near that college. The lad shyly said he was to train to teach English as well as Art so a second card was produced and signed for him to take to King's College or to Cheyne Walk again for him to consult James Goodhew if the need arose. Neither could be present today for the pair had gone with Natty Dyer to view the Pyramids and the Sphinx in Egypt and bring back more papyri for him to study. The lad smiled and said he had read four of James's novels already but his favourite was the book he had been given as a present as a child, the story of the boy with the hare.

My sister Peg, down from Scotland, had her younger son, Angus, with her and we got another invitation to visit them. Her husband, Ranald Foster, had become a judge in the Scottish courts and was a Lord which was customary in that country's legal system. My sister was Lady Margaret Foster but she screwed her nose up when I addressed her as 'Her Ladyship' and I got a most unladylike dig in the ribs which made Angus laugh and say his father was always concerned that his wife would make some quip when in the presence of some dour Scottish legal functionary. I said he, his brother and his father were Scots but I did not rate them as dour. "I hae to keep ma wee mouth shut too on occasion" he said with a grin emphasising his Edinburgh accent.

We said goodbye to all in the end for we had to catch a train at Careby Halt back to Cambridge. Terence was to remain at Careby for a time to deal with the closure of Torquil's affairs. Careby Hall was a ruin but even ruins might have value. The stud and stables were in safe hands and both Georgie Mead and Billy Temple could raise the requisite loans if they wished to purchase the stock and business which they did a year or so later. Neither Terence nor I really needed anymore money. We had inherited enough already and our sisters were well-provided for as well. In his Will Torquil had left all his earthly possessions to his son, my Robin. We were surprised at the large amount which had accumulated even since the deaths of his wife and daughter. We as a family decided to vest the ownership of Careby Hall and the land adjacent for the use of the people of the village of Careby. First, seven of the cottages were given to their occupants, all old and faithful retainers on the estate. Several others had their pensions enhanced and grooms and farm labourers were given small sums of money to enhance their total wages. Cobblers Farm was now vested in the descendants of Mr Johnson and Eamonn was provided with a fine new house recently built. Other farms and small-holdings were offered to the tenants for most reasonable sums. Of course, Grindcobbe's, now in the charge of the even more Pickwickian shape of the son of the Mr Grindcobbe we had known over the years, was the legal firm used for all these transactions.

All this happened at the same time when offers had also been made on the four tracts of land in St Albans by a company intent on keeping the land until it was needed for building. The same company offered a suitable price for the Careby lands and that money was used to improve the houses of all in the village with a sum in excess for any future need. With all that, and the change of name of the stud and stables to 'Mead, Temple and Sons', the Browning name would only be remembered in Careby on the memorials in the church, the churchyard and on the almshouses.

Geoffrey Lascelles decided to retire from his commission as Colonel of the regiment sometime in 1888. He and my cousin Rosamund immediately moved from James' Street to a large and commodious mansion in Essex with just a small estate surrounding it. Their sons, Graham and Digby had not been to university but had joined the regiment and the Navy respectively. Graham had married and had one son and that family joined the household in Essex. After leaving Naval service Digby emigrated to Hong Kong and little was heard from him after that and even when Geoffrey died some years later no news came from that quarter. Rosamund tried to find out more but could not and died grieving both her husband and her long-lost son.

An invitation came from the Johnsons to visit them in Paris before term started in October 1889. There had been much excitement for a Exposition Universelle, or World's Fair was being held with a huge iron tower built in the centre of Paris by Monsieur Eiffel. We gaped and stared and, by special invitation, went up to the first viewing platform for luncheon but neither I nor Tom wished to ascend higher. That was far enough for two earth- bound creatures! Of course, we were laughed at, for building higher and higher was to become all the rage, though the authorities in Paris had put a limit on the height of the houses and apartments which had been and were being constructed on the boulevards designed by Baron Haussmann.

In 1890 the now ancient Dr Powis died and Daniel Palmer, the other of our waifs and a dear friend, was ready to step into his shoes as Fellow in Music. His Doctorate in Music had been awarded mainly for the cantata he had written in commemoration of the bicentenary of the birth of Johann Sebastian Bach and it had been much admired at the performance in the Senate House at the time. Our friend, Freddy Neville, had played a piano concerto arranged from a work for harpsichord by Bach's second son, Carl Philipp Emanuel, in the first half of that concert. Our College choir, as well as singing in the cantata, sang three excepts from Johann Sebastian's cantata Nun komm, der Heiden Heiland, with the fine tenor voice of young Augustus Pennefather in one of the solos. He would be leaving the choir school and entering the College as a student the next year.

Augustus had entered our lives even earlier. His father had made a deal of money from advertising and selling medical concoctions which were supposedly cure-alls for anyone suffering from flatulence or gout or the effects of intemperance, etc., etc. These were proclaimed for the universal benefits they purported to impart but we knew the name given as proprietor and supplier was not his true name. I had seen many of the verbose advertisements and just wondered what ingredients were in the pills and potions. Young Augustus had been in the choir from the age of eight or so and had developed a great facility in playing any sort of keyboard from clavichord to harpsichord and the organ. His father had insisted when he was thirteen that he should go to Rugby School but within six months he was back in College here and in the choir again. He said he had hated every moment of being at the other place and had threatened to run away and join the Navy. At Rugby he had been six in a bed but in the Navy he would at least have his own hammock! His father had relented and asked for him to be readmitted, which was assented to immediately. But now it was his own precious organ which caused him his difficulties. When just fourteen he was brought in tears to my room in College by one of the choir masters. After asking the master to leave the weeping youngster with me I discovered other sorts of tears, pronounced differently. The boy had over-indulged in a new-found habit and two weeping sores were evident on his even then well-formed prick. An application of salve and an admonition was given to reduce his enjoyment to, perhaps, twice a day.

To emphasise my point I produced what I considered a true instrument of torture. It had been invented by some zealot for the prevention of onanism, which was the term used for that practice learned and indulged in by all boys in my experience. It was a metal device shaped like a cup for holding a boy's balls with a closed metal spout above to accommodate a flaccid prick. The end of the spout did have small holes like a pepper pot through which urine could be expelled. The whole contraption could be attached to a wayward lad with straps and buckles and was guaranteed to keep the wearer from unseemly habits. I had confiscated the object from an undergraduate whose father had made him wear the damnable thing. Of course, just the feel of the appliance caused the youth to become erect and this had almost resulted in the loss of his most prized possession through the contusion induced by lack of blood flow. In effect, his erection was trapped in a tube designed for the confinement of the soft member of a lad who would be, perhaps, four or five years younger than the youth whose face showed the pain he was in.

Augustus's gaze dropped and he quietly said he had seen a number of the devices in different sizes for they were also on his father's lists of apparatus of such things as trusses for hernias and some thick wands for treating ladies' ailments. He said he was sure the one I had shown him had been purchased from his father and was a medium-sized model which had been modelled on the size of his eldest brother's penis at the age of fourteen. I couldn't help it but I just had to laugh. The youth I had taken it from was a hefty eighteen-year-old, luckily with a smaller than average-sized organ, and I told Augustus that fact, though I did not continue to tell him the wands were called dildos and I had an engraving of a Dutch dildo shop, which we, Robin and I, had bought on a visit to the Netherlands.

This broke the spell, for Augustus then related how he and his two elder brothers had delighted in borrowing the things without his father's knowledge to see if any did fit and his eldest brother Arthur Bartholomew had indeed been the one whose organ was now immortalised in brass! Arthur Bartholomew was now employed at his father's warehouse where all the medications and devices were stored before distribution and was destined, so Augustus thought, to follow in his father's footsteps as a purveyor of such goods. However, his next older brother, Albert Basil, had escaped entirely and was indeed a midshipman in the Navy with no intention of joining the business. His avoiding his father's strictures had prompted Augustus to use the threat of the Navy as a method of returning to St Mark's. Augustus Bertram quietly said that Albert Basil's escape meant he was not encased anymore now but had kept his penalty for indulgence as a souvenir. Albert had told him this was a source of amusement amongst his shipmates for more than one had been fitted with the device when overtaken by the demon drink! I did not quote Mr Shakespeare to Augustus but as the porter in Macbeth had said most truly, the desire was taken away and no erection would ensue!

I warmed to Augustus from that day. For a fourteen-year-old he had an openness of character and was not ashamed or embarrassed in talking about such things to someone who was probably old enough to be his grandfather. He had already been invited to take tea many times when younger but now became quite a fixture in our household for he rarely wanted to go to his home during the vacations as he said his mother was an invalid and his father rarely had a good word for him. He was a fixture in other ways for he did consult me or Timmy on a number of occasions as time went on when his unruly prick got the better of him and he needed salves. These ointments, he averred, did help the healing process, not like the contents of the boxes of unknown unguents which he smilingly brought back for Timmy, Jeremy and me to examine and comment on from his rare visits to the commodious residence his parents lived in somewhere in Hampshire. He was in awe of Robin, for Robin had cozened him with his display of magical tricks such as the rope which unknotted itself and various others he had learned from Mr Pretyman and Mr Dimbleby. Augustus became quite adept at a good number of these and entertained the younger members of the choir with his wiles. We took him to stay in Charles Street to see the spiritualist's table and then to Mr Maskelyne's magic show at the Egyptian Hall which captivated him so much that arrangements had to be made for a personal interview with the great man and his assistants.

By then he was growing older with quite definite other urges so he did have to confess a visit to a certain establishment when seventeen. However, I was able to assure him that the redness and soreness which resulted was not due to the dreaded French pox. I did caution him of the dangers of visiting such women and said he should think more than twice if urges led him in that direction. I was able to be precise in that diagnosis for I knew his discomfort was merely the result of the accommodating lady's overuse of a powerful astringent lotion which I had prescribed for her just days before to overcome a certain looseness caused by her many years at her trade! That nugget of information was not divulged to him but within a week or so he was back with a hangdog look, a quiver of the lips and a more than well-hand- pumped organ!

As an undergraduate Augustus became great friends with no other than a grandson of that horse-racing MP I had seen many times at Charles Street when attending my Aunt Fanny's soir‚es and dinners. Aubrey Devereux was also the nephew of Felicity Devereux who had been my sister-in-law's and niece's companion in Naples when they had succumbed to cholera. Aubrey was not exactly a rakehell but he had little interest in serious studies. He was an excellent horseman and rode to hounds three times a week or more and followed the Foot Beagles as well. He had a set of rooms opposite Augustus and seemed to spend most of his time in Augustus's company. I think Augustus did have some influence over him because though his father complained at the end of his first term over his wine-merchant's bill it did not occur again after that. I also knew Aubrey had lost his virginity at Mrs ......'s, - the accommodating loose-woman! - soon after the beginning of his first term for he came to ask, in confidence of course, if there was a way to increase the size of his... ...here he had hesitated. I just said if it was five inches or over when erect he was quite normal and nothing could be done despite the claims on the pamphlets distributed by the quacks on the market square. He looked consoled at that and whispered, probably out of relief "It's five inches and that bloody Gus has seven if not more. It's not fair!" Having had to inspect Gus both flaccid and erect and now making sure Aubrey was not infected and leaking gleet he was quite correct for Gus had at least two inches on him!

Aubrey joined us in Augustus's company many times after that episode for I had by then told him I had met his grandfather all those years ago. He said the old man had made a mint of money from gambling though his father had warned Aubrey of the perils of that activity. I had the impression that a deal of Aubrey's allowance disappeared into the bookmakers' satchels for he also rode to Newmarket frequently to attend race-meetings there with a number of his fellow students.

At least our dear Augustus did not gamble but he did blot his copybook and it was only through George's and my efforts, mainly George's, that he was not rusticated and sent down permanently.

As well as the male servants in all the Colleges, colloquially known as gyps, there was also a host of women, called bed-makers, who kept the students' rooms a little more tidy and clean than they otherwise would be. They also, as their title implied, made beds and changed the bed-linen, as one wit put it 'at least every other day before the sheets become too stiff for comfort'. It was also known that for extra recompense some of the bed-makers would also occupy the beds as well. Augustus had as his bed-maker the daughter of Robin's butler at the Master's Lodge. The family had been in the service of the College for at least two centuries and perhaps even more. I had seen the girl grow up from being a baby and she was now a most comely wench just a little younger than Augustus. I was sure Augustus did not force his attention on her. It was a story repeated like others we knew so well. My brother had loved Jenny Hall but marriage did not ensue. From what John Harrison said his brother's child was also begotten in love but the lovers were not of the same station. It was true also of Cedric Branscombe's life-long companion, his own uncle's son. There could be little condemnation after Augustus came and confessed that the sweet girl was with child. I volunteered to break the news to her father who, over the years, had become more a friend than the valued servant he was. Mr Knott shook his head sadly and said he was not surprised. His own sister had borne not one but two children out of Holy wedlock when a bedder in Trinity College. He smiled then and said if a marriage had taken place he would be known as the uncle to two most prominent personages, one now a poet and the other a politician! In each case the child had been fostered within the family of the perpetrator of the deed.

With George's connivance and his knowledge of helpful clergy in Peterborough the girl was accommodated and a son was born. Though Augustus wished to marry her this was not to be, though she and the boy never wanted for anything. We found Augustus a place in the College as an assistant choir master as soon as he had achieved his degree which pleased him greatly for he then was able to completely escape from his father's desire for him to be a purveyor of disputable cures.

Augustus also had another hobby, that of photography. He had discovered his father ran a second enterprise. The supply of photographs of a more than dubious nature to 'discerning connoisseurs of the human form'. These were not plain depictions of the David nor of 'Judith with the Head of Holofernes' but generally showed two, or even more, persons in acts which will remain nameless and undescribed! Augustus did not photograph such acts but delighted in travelling with George on his excursions around the countryside recording buildings such as churches and manor houses as well as lowly cottages but also, as he termed them 'scenes of everyday life'. These included ceremonies and happenings in and around the Colleges including the degree conferments and, memorably, the visit of the Queen to Trinity. It was on that momentous occasion when Her Majesty was being taken across the bridge at the college she asked the Master, the Reverend Dr Whewell, "What are all those pieces of paper floating down the river?" It is said his immediate response was, 'Those, Ma'am, are notices that bathing is forbidden." Nothing truer for that sewer!

Augustus did receive a little admonishment one day when he had set up his camera near our Fellows' swimming pool and captured one rather bulky gentleman as he finished his wallow and stood to clamber from the pool. As there was no necessity to wear bathing drawers he was quite naked though his sagging belly preserved his modesty somewhat. Augustus rapidly retreated, though he had already pointed the wretched lens as Robin and I had emerged, equally unclad, and climbed the steps.

On his advancement after graduating Augustus had to relinquish his room for the accommodation of an incoming student and needed something suitable rather than retreating back to the small room he had occupied in the Choir School as a chorister. On the ground floor of his stair there was a locked room opposite that of the Servant of the Chapel. Augustus asked if he might have that room which seemed just to be full of unwanted lumber. He was a good advocate for his own cause, meaning he bent Robin's ear and that of Jacob Palmer, our Chaplain, and he was allowed its use. He was most industrious and was able to use one of his inner rooms, which had no window so was easily darkened, to produce his own photographic images rather than relying on others who had set up in that trade in the town. With his sleight-of-hand demonstrations and humourous patter at various student drinking clubs and gatherings, and his production of photographs to order, he had a good source of income and became less dependent on the uncertain largesse of his father.

Robin was much exercised in his duties as Master with the need for new accommodation for the increasing number of undergraduates. It was due to a great extent to George's meeting in his travels around the counties with parents who generally despaired of what to do with large and lubberly sons. More space was also needed for new Fellows and their teaching duties. As neither he nor I needed our increased income because of our inheritances and, especially, the good price we had received for the St Albans lands, we decided to donate secretly substantial sums for building and re-building to be done within the College walls. The College was known to have been a monastic foundation and was almost completely surrounded by a high precinct wall against which the interior buildings had been constructed. There had been additions in the previous century when the Choir School had been extended, with student accommodation above. Some ruinous buildings were now reconstructed in the same stone and a full two stairs of new sets of rooms were built and a further stair was planned to be started within the next five years or so.

The Master's Lodge, which had been changed from its old use to host numerous monks and clergy, was now far too big and many-roomed for one man and his servants. With just a few misgivings from the Fellows our architect recommended one part could become a residence more suitable for the Chaplain, while the other ornate reception rooms would be retained for dining and entertaining visitors to the College. All these would be quite separate from the still well-appointed quarters for the Master. All was set in hand and while the building and the hassle was proceeding Robin moved more or less permanently into our house sited almost opposite the alley leading to the College side entrance and easy access for him. There were no problems for at that time we were connected to the new telephone exchange so with another apparatus in the Porters' Lodge communication was immediate when needed.

We remembered with a mixture of affection, and later awe, one young man who had first consulted Robin when a second year student. He was from another college, Trinity, but had read some paper of Robin's on the subject of mathematical sets. As far as I could ascertain Robin had doubts about how sets were described and also on their numeration to infinity. This young man, Russell by name, was studying mathematics and had similar concerns. He obtained an excellent degree and over one vacation inhabited one of our rooms above. In the year after he graduated he was engaged as a tutor at one of the colleges for ladies situated outside Cambridge. He suddenly appeared one day pleading sanctuary 'from the Gorgons at Girton' for he had made unwise advances and had not only been repulsed but ejected. Things simmered down and he soon left us for Paris. However, he was elected a Fellow of Trinity in 1895 and married soon after! His explorations then of logic and philosophy surpassed almost all understanding. Not because of the marriage but in spite of it so we heard!

1896-1900

As 1895 finished so four more losses in our lives occurred within a few weeks of each other. Firstly, my brother Terence, whose own companion, Caleb, was not to outlast him more than six months, succumbed to pneumonia as did Robin's mother, Jenny Goodhew. Brave and resourceful Mark Dawson was next. It is said old soldiers never die they just fade away and it happened so in his case. In less than a month he went from hale and hearty to feeling listless and I could but say it was some internal growth which could not be counteracted. He died with no pain and George was left without the friend, the prop and anchor who had lovingly cared for him in sickness and in health. We murmured that but did not speak it loud though all around knew of their closeness.

Our grief at these was only made worse when the news came that my cousin Lancelot had had a coughing fit which turned to apoplexy. These four were our closest family, as it were, and with the death of my brother I was the only Browning of that name left for my sisters, still alive but now in their eighties, held their late husbands' names. I knew that one attribute would continue for both my sister Peg's sons bore the distinctive birthmark. Liam, before his own death in the autumn of 1897, carved as his last task the memorial stones for Terence, Caleb, Lancelot and Jenny which joined the array already in the village church at Careby.

There were joys, though, for in 1896 Philip Goodhew received two awards which he richly deserved. First he became a Royal Academician in the Spring and then was knighted by Her Majesty in June for his contribution to the artistic heritage of the nation. He was also given an Honorary Fellowship of St Mark's for he had presented the College with a most handsome portrait of his foster-brother in his scarlet robes of Doctor of Science to join the others of Masters recent and long since gone in the Fellows' Combination Room.

Naturally, with George bereft of his friend, companion and coachman some congenial replacement was needed. We had three good indoor servants as well as a cook and two house-boys - an all-male establishment! Our butler was a cousin of Robin's major-domo in the Master's Lodge. His son Jonathan had badgered his father for permission to join the regiment as a trooper at seventeen having heard all Mark Dawson's stories of life as a soldier of the Queen. He had idolised George and was now at the end of a seven years' engagement at the age of twenty-four. Would he be suitable? A resounding 'Yes!'. He joined our household and was in George's confidence immediately. With his injuries George needed someone to help him dress and to keep his clothes in immaculate order for George had become a quite fastidious creature. I must not belittle him but a cravat or a waistcoat had to be just so and the lie of a kerchief in a top pocket had to be exact before he would venture forth on his daily tasks. We had suggested as we all were nearing seventy that doctoring and Bursaring should be the concern of younger souls, however George averred there were still sovereigns to be gained either for the College or to join those we had in the bank. Jonathan also knew Augustus Pennefather well and was taught the secrets of that master of deception and joined Augustus as his assistant magician!

There were other amusements, too. We seemed over the years to have gathered a number of what were termed 'lodgers' in common parlance in the spare rooms on our top floors in the two houses on King's Parade. Some were students who needed accommodation like young Russell, or had come to a sticky end through lack of finance or even being disowned for some perceived or imagined misdemeanour by their parents. All eventually did find some useful employment though at least two donned the blue uniform of telegraph boys to earn a little money to keep the wolf from the door while with us. It was especially useful for those who showed either artistic or acting talent generally through our contacts with the impresarios, Lawson and Coulson, in London. There was always a need for scene painters, scene shifters, or for walk-on parts.

With these connections we also arranged for plays to be brought from London, or for a play to be in final rehearsal before being transferred to London. In the beginning the plays could be set up in the College Dining Hall but the audiences and the requirements got more than could be handled easily so we became ardent supporters of the ADC, the Amateur Dramatic Club, which had its own theatre much used by students for their own productions but available for others out of term-time.

An even greater amusement was George's desire to own an automobile. A horseless carriage! Robin and I had returned from Paris after a summer visit there in 1895 where we had seen two of these contraptions and the Johnsons laughingly said they would be all the rage before long. When we told George he nodded and said he already read a newspaper report about the Honourable Evelyn Ellis who had imported such a vehicle from Paris. If that Honourable could do it, this Honourable could do the same, he averred. This was realized and something called a Panhard appeared the next year on the streets of Cambridge. Of course, Jonathan Knott had to be taught how to drive the noisy beast. This he did with aplomb and grew to love the smoke-belching monster, as his father called it, even when pursued by a gaggle of interested boys wanting to ride on it as well. George with his imperturbable demeanor allowed one or two at a time to accompany him on visits to other Colleges or on short journeys to the outer villages to their eternal delight.

It was soon after this that Timmy noted George had a certain way of stretching and also appeared a little breathless on climbing the stairs to our apartment above our consulting rooms below. With some reluctance he allowed us to listen to his heart and his breathing and a dose of weak digitalis tincture was recommended to slow a racing heart-beat. He was commanded not to overdo things and another of our 'upstairs boys' was engaged as his amanuensis in the Bursar's Office in the College. George was quite adamant he would not relinquish that most important task of being Bursar. However, that lad, a graduate in Mathematics, did take on more and more of George's role much, we knew, to George's relief.

The next years passed quietly and without too much other hassle. Robin's building plans came to final fruition and the last stair was dedicated in 1898. There had also been some refurbishment in the Chapel as well. Several of the stalls which lined both sides of the Chapel had become worn and rickety with the generations of student backsides which had been placed on them, usually reluctantly, and now only once a day from the several times obligatory for previous generations of those spotty and twitchy mortals. A fine wood carver was found and a number of the more decrepit ones were replaced and others repaired. The Chapel was large as befitted a College of such antiquity and in the 1870's the organ had been enlarged to make a grander sound and a full set of German pedals, such as I had experienced at the Comte's residence in Paris, was added at the same time. With an organ of this size at least three boys had to be employed to pump to fill the bellows with enough wind. A plan was devised to replace boy power with steam power! We had heard of many large organs being supplied with wind from the efforts of the pumping action of a steam engine. In 1897 this desire was put into practice. Of course, money had to be raised and it was George's efforts which succeeded in that enterprise. His major comment was that the kitchen-boys, assistant Porters or erring students used for the task, would only develop their arm muscles in another form of pumping if they lost that form of employment! I knew this to be so for there was no diminution in the supply of soothing salve to adolescent youths, whether students or servants.

Our usual quartet had made a most enjoyable visit to Geneva and the lakes of Switzerland at the beginning of September of 1900. Both Robin and I discussed our futures on this expedition. We were both now seventy and Timmy and Jeremy not much less, though we were all feeling hale and hearty, even after clambering up a few quite steep mountain paths. Thus we contemplated seriously the handing over of the numerous roles we had to a younger generation. Of course, as far as the appointment of the Master of a College was concerned the person appointed could only be relatively young! We had decided on the railway journey back to announce our retirements at the beginning of term, Robin as Master of St Mark's and I as Lecturer in Medicine. We would ask to retain our Fellowships for we did not wish to sever any other links with the College we loved.

Both Timmy and Jeremy concurred with our decisions. Timmy said he would be more than happy to have more leisure and perhaps Jeremy might pass on the control of the pharmacies to nephews. There was no doubt that physicians who were in agreement with our ideas of healing and methods of prescribing could be found. In fact, we knew of two who had been students in the College and had kept up their friendship engendered then and since and would be admirable successors.

With all that in mind we returned to King's Parade to find those particular physicians had already been more or less in residence for George had relapsed into first a breathless state, then into confusion. We had not been contacted on his instructions but it was clear our George had suffered a series of slight haemorrhages within the brain. Those two physicians had been excellent in their care but there was little further any of us could do. While sitting contemplating not only George but our future I broached the subject of the medical practice with the pair. Both were in their early thirties and each had moved to London where with further study they had completed their Doctorate of Medicine degrees. On returning to Cambridge both held positions at Addenbrook's Hospital and were honorary physicians to two of the other Colleges. Neither was married and we sensed they would not tread that path. We offered them the opportunity of taking on our practice. A transfer fee would have to be negotiated as was the custom and Mr Partridge the Younger would deal with that. It would almost be a formality. Hands were shaken as tokens of agreement. Two appointments as Honorary Physicians to the College would also be negotiated.

It was during the next few days that George's condition grew worse as he lapsed into a coma. He was not to be taken to hospital but tended by us, his faithful and long-term friends. He passed away during the evening of Thursday the thirteenth of September with his hands being held in companionable silence. My thoughts raced back to that day of our first meeting and I wept as did we all. The Honourable George Lascelles, alias Marchbanks, was no more but his memory would endure. Our lives had to continue...

..................

Saturday the twenty-second of September 1900 at 11a.m.

As Jacob Palmer's sonorous tones echoed in that great space so we all stood and the coffin, borne by six troopers in full-dress uniforms, was reverenced by all and sundry as it passed to be set on the waiting bier. On the coffin, draped in the Union flag and the regimental colours, lay George's sheathed sword and his gleaming helmet from those years so long ago. As it reached the bier where the troopers carefully laid it so the unaccompanied choir sang the words of the twenty-third psalm to music composed some years before by Daniel Palmer for the funeral of my Aunt Fanny. I was lost in too many thoughts then to concentrate on the service. All I was aware of was that George's nephew, Robert Lascelles, read a lesson and our Robin gave a homily on George and his good works. The choir sang again and Jacob read prayers, we all sang the hymn 'Abide with me' to William Henry Monk's beautiful tune, and then a final blessing was pronounced. There had been a slight stir when Jacob had used George's true name in his first prayer. I also knew there had been a little wonderment in the discovery by many in College that George Marchbanks, our treasured Bursar, was really the Honourable George Marchbanks Lascelles as the shining plate on his coffin now announced. I was in tears as the service ended and the coffin was carried past again before its journey to Garthorpe and its resting place there. Daniel Palmer had chosen well for the beginning of that journey. As I stood and contemplated again all our years together with our friends and companions Johann Sebastian had the final word. First, the chorale prelude 'Ich ruf' zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ', a prayer of supplication for faith, hope and charity and, as the coffin reached the door and the congregation sat, so the great Prelude and Fugue in the same key of f minor, BWV 534, brought us more consolation and, for me, anticipation of a future still to come.

FINIS

My grateful thanks are due first to Nifty for hosting yet another of my stories. Thanks a million! Remember a donation to Nifty will help to keep the site running. Details are on the Nifty Home page.

Thanks are due also to Mike Arram who has kept me on the straight historical path needed for one who does not profess to be a historian. I have learned much about the Victorian era over the past year or so in my own reading and exploration and I hope I have whetted appetites for others to learn more of such an interesting and fruitful century.

I must also thank all those who have read and written. All my stories have also appeared on awesomedude.com under Joel: Bless you all! Jo. July 2014