- A man whose voice was
(sometimes) as gruff as hers!
- A man who was beginning to
shave for a moustache! Oh! the indignity of it!
But it was not Lady Holland, or her court, that concerned me
in my school days, it was Holland Park, or the extensive
grounds about Charles Fox's house (there were no other houses
at Addison Road then), that I loved to roam in. It was the
birds'-nesting; it was the golden carp I used to fish for on
the sly with a pin; the shying at the swans, the hunt for
cockchafers, the freedom of mischief generally, and the
excellent food - which I was so much in need of - that made
the holiday delightful.
Some years later, when dining at Holland House, I happened to
sit near the hostess. It was a large dinner party. Lord
Holland, in his bath-chair (he nearly always had the gout),
sat at the far end of the table a long way off. But my lady
kept an eye on him, for she had caught him drinking
champagne. She beckoned to the groom of the chambers, who
stood behind her; and in a gruff and angry voice shouted:
'Go to my Lord. Take away his wine, and tell him if he
drinks any more you have my orders to wheel him into the next
room.' If this was a joke it was certainly a practical one.
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