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Extracts from "Some Reminiscences" by ARTHUR POWELL SIMON 1869 - 1958 It was under the following circumstances that my Father met my Mother, who was a Miss Hannah Maria Powell. My Father had been left a widower in July 1863 with a large family consisting of eight sons and three daughters. The six elder sons had, I think, all gone abroad, and, so far as I can recollect at all events, only the two youngest, Alfred and Faulkner, and the two surviving daughters were living with their Father at their home Cedar Lodge, Denmark Hill: Alfred at the time of his Mother’s death being in his 12th year, and Mary in her 6th. My Father had engaged a Lady Housekeeper to manage his house and look after his children; this lady was a personal friend of Miss Powell, who was keeping house in London for her eldest brother, John Joseph Powell. Miss Powell used to visit her friend at Cedar Lodge, and my Father first saw her there, and in due course proposed to her and was accepted. The proposed marriage however raised the greatest opposition on the part of her relatives, especially on the part of her brother John. This was no doubt due to the disparity of age – my Father was 18 years older than Miss Powell, and also to the presence in his home of his four young children. However, the marriage took place on the 8th November 1864, from the house of Sir Rupert Kettle, Judge of County Courts, at Wolverhampton, a great friend of J.J. Powell, and during the 24 years that the marriage lasted, no married couple could have been more united, or happy in each other. The first ten years of my life were spent at No. 82 St. George’s Square. My uncle John Powell had not only become reconciled to his sister’s marriage to my Father, but had learnt to value the latter’s character, and the two had become firm friends, so much so that my Uncle took up his abode with us at No. 82. He had a big practice at the Bar, and became a Q.C., and was the Leader of the Oxford Circuit. Later he became a Bencher of the Middle Temple, and was also Treasurer, and, furthermore, was Member of Parliament for Gloucester. But at about the time the home at St. George’s Square was given up, he had a very serious and long illness, and in his later years was content to take a London County Court Judgeship. In those days the penny steamers were running on the Thames, the pier being at the end of the Square, Our stables gave on to the space in front of the pier. In the summer time my Father and Uncle frequently, if not regularly, went to their office and chambers respectively, by steamer, my Uncle landing at the Temple Pier, and my Father at London Bridge. The parents used to drive down in the landau once a week to dine at the paternal Grand Mews at No. 10, The Paragon, Blackheath. Wilfred and I used to take a great interest in these visits, as “Grandmama” always sent us back by our Mother some sweets, generally sugared apricots ! I seem to remember that on the morning after a visit to Blackheath, Wilfred and I were always sharp up to time for our daily hour before breakfast with Mother, for French lessons out of Noel & Chapsal, or German lessons out of Ollendorff. We always had a French or German Nurse in the nursery, sometimes even two, so that we grew up more or less trilingual. On Sundays we did not do lessons, but we had to repeat the day’s Collect by heart. I have very pleasant recollections of the Domestic staff at No. 82. First and foremost there was “Granny” Watts, who, I imagine must have been a retainer from Denmark Hill, if not earlier. At all events she was past work, except sewing. She had her own room at the top of the house, with one of the junior maids to wait on her; we boys used to love running up to see her, and have tea with her now and again. Then there was Pattison, the Butler, he used to take us roller-skating at the Crystal Palace, and swimming at the Beckwith baths. Also there was Mother’s personal maid, Taylor, a somewhat austere person, of whom we stood considerably in awe. And last but by no means least, there was Wilkinson, the coachman, who used to take us into the Park, riding on our ponies in Rotten Row. Sometimes, in the afternoon, we would go with Mother in the landau into the Park to see the Princess of Wales (later Queen Alexandra,) drive by; there would be a long string of carriages drawn up at the side of the road at the hour the Princess used to drive through. The story goes that my Father, having bought a second horse to make up a pair with another whose name was Ajax, expressed himself to Wilkinson as rather puzzled as to what name to give the new acquisition. Wilkinson, in blissful ignorance of the origin of the name Ajax, replied “ Why not call him Beejax ? “ - and Beejax he became ! We used to have boxing and fencing lessons at Chelsea Barracks from one Sergeant Manship. I have vivid recollections of displays of swordsmanship he would give us now and then, such as splitting a sheep in two in one sweep, cutting a silk handkerchief resting on his sword, and so on. Wilfred and I would sometimes play piano duets at concerts given by Mr. Giveen, the Vicar of a Church nearby, where Mary used to teach in the Sunday school. We also attended dancing classes at a school somewhere in the Sloane Square district. I recall also Christmas Children’s parties at No. 82, the piece de resistance being a big Christmas tree in the back drawing-room, the folding doors shutting the back room off from the front big room, being kept closed till the last minute. But the greatest treats of all were our weekend visits to Pickhurst Manor, Hayes, the home of our Uncle Herman and Aunt Ellen de Zoete. We would drive down en famille, and Wilkinson would turn us boys out at the bottom of the hill leading up to the green in front of Pickhurst, and we would race ahead and enter in at the farm gates giving on to the green, and there we would remain till we were dragged willy-nilly into the house. Our weekends there were one long joy to us London boys, somewhat marred, it is true, by our cousin Ellen insisting on giving us drawing lessons, no doubt to give our young legs a rest. Driving the farm cart was a great feature. We stood in awe of Uncle Herman whenever we were allowed in the billiard room. Wilfred and I always seemed to run in pairs, while Frank was always very much the eldest son and on a different plane, as it were. In the summer months we were taken abroad by our parents. I remember particularly two such occasions; one at Villers-sur-mer, where we had a nice house with balconies all round it, quite close to the sea. Another year we went to Etretat, taking a house with a lovely garden, from a Madame Maillard, very much “la grand dame”, to our way of thinking. We boys chummed up with her grandsons, the Vallois boys, and had great fun. There were some glorious trees in the garden, and I recall that we built a “house” high up in the branches of one particularly large tree, which “house” was christened “Frawilla”. There was quite a sizeable English colony at Etretat, and my Father initiated a Church of England service there on Sundays, with the help of a visiting Padre. My Father used to read the lessons, and he collected, as did our cousin Arthur Powell who was staying with us. We boys were made to carry the harmonium down to the room hired for the purpose of the service – much to our disgust ! Arthur Powell followed later in the footsteps of his and our Uncle John Powell, for he became a K.C. and a Bencher of the Middle Temple, and was due to become Treasurer in the year following his death. On these occasions, we used to take the servants, horses and our ponies and the carriages abroad with us. I remember my Mother telling me that on one occasion, I think that of the stay at Etretat, there were “40 mouths” to feed, but this of course included the two horses and the two ponies. I have in my possession a photo taken at Etretat in September 1877, of my Father, Wilfred and myself on horseback on the sands there, with Mother standing close by, and Wilkinson in attendance. In the late spring or early summer of 1879, my parents decided to leave London and to travel abroad before settling down again, and we boys had therefore to be disposed of.Frank was sent, I think, to Uncle Max in the country somewhere; Wilfred was sent to the Moravian School at Neuwied-am-Rhein, near Coblentz – Mother and her sisters had been at the Girls’ School there – and I was placed with the Protestant Vicar, or Pfarrer, of Erbach-am-Rhein, who had been recommended to my Father by one of his business associates, Herr Ewald, of Rhudesheim, at whose house I was a visitor from time to time during my ten months stay at Erbach. Nobody in the house or village could speak or understand a word of English, but the old Grandmother, who lived in the house, had a working knowledge of French, which made things easier for me. together with all the girls and boys of the village and neighbourhood, of whatever class or standing, I attended the “Realschule”, in the village, and was soon quite fluent in the language. Wilfred joined me at Pfarrer Deissman’s after six months or so, and remained there until we returned to England. Shortly before we were due to return, we received from home the “Particulars and Conditions of Sale” of Widmore Lodge, Bickley, Kent, which place my Father had bought in the early months of 1880. To our great joy, the plan attached to the “Particulars” showed a lake in the grounds. Wilfred and I returned to England in the middle of April 1880, and I remember , as vividly as if it were yesterday, our arrival at what then was the little country station of Bickley, and our drive in the carriage through what were then country lanes to the house, and our subsequent first view of the house and gardens. I remember also that we were particularly struck by the whiteness of the table-cloth, laid for breakfast, and the shining silver appointments of the table; we had not seen anything like it for the best part of a year! But we were in for a great disappointment, immediately after breakfast we rushed out into the grounds to find the lake; but alas! it turned out to be only a small duck pond, which, being fed by the surface water from the road only, was often quite dry. We had brought back with us the eldest Deissman daughter, and she stayed at Widmore for some little time. Later on her younger sister came to stay for a few days, and later still, the Frau Pfarrerin paid us a visit. (Incidentally , we seldom seemed to be free, either in London or at Widmore, from French or German nurses, tutors or companions). I had become so thoroughly “Germanised” during my long stay abroad, without speaking or hearing a word of English for ten months, - for so much as one word of English even between Wilfred and myself was “strengstens verboten” in the Pfarrhaus -, that at first at all events my English was somewhat of a broken nature. I remember, for instance, causing considerable amusement by asking, when going to bed on our first night, what time we were supposed to “stand up” (aufstehen) in the mornings. Wilfred and I “did lessons” for the first two years or so with Miss Louise Ellis, at the Old Cottage, just opposite to Widmore; she and her elder sister Miss Marion Ellis owned and had originally lived at Widmore House, a larger edition of our home Widmore Lodge – both houses had been built by Telford, the well known road contractor – but the ladies had moved to the Old Cottage on adopting their dead brother’s two eldest boys and his daughter, Arthur, Horace and Marion, or “May” as she was always known. Later, on the death of their sister-in-law, they also adopted the two younger nephews, Tom and Cecil. These two were of the same age as Wilfred and myself, and we four became great pals, and were practically inseparable in holiday times. Later, when we had gone to school, the two elder brothers Arthur and Horace “tutored” us. My brother Frank was at Rugby; Alfred went to Clifton, and I entered Marlborough in January 1882, and remained there till March 1888. Mother no doubt thought that being at separate schools would make the holidays more enjoyable, and enlarge the circle of our friends for the future. Tom Ellis was at Sherborne, and Cecil at Felstead. We had a cricket net in the field at Widmore, and Wilson, the village blacksmith, used to come and coach us; he had quite a local reputation as a bowler and hard hitter. Father had a tennis court made for us in the field, and the Ellis’s also had a tennis court, so that we had plenty of cricket and tennis. As regards Widmore Lodge itself, Father had added thereto a billiard room, connected with the house by a passage lined with cork in which ferns were arranged. The drawing room, which in itself was rather on the small side for such a large house, had been greatly improved by opening two glass doors in the wall, which also allowed of a good view of the flowers, etc., in the big conservatory, and also gave easy access thereto. The grounds some 10 or 11 acres in extent, were very charming and well laid out. There were some 7 or 8 hot-houses, and a large kitchen garden, completely walled in, where we had some fine rat hunts, as also in the pigsties at the far end of the field. The two front lawns were laid out with carpet bedding in the various beds. A shrubbery ran right round the outer ring of the grounds. We used to cycle along it, and in the football season, I used to run round it, in flannels and sweater, to keep in training, my faithful dog Roy was always in attendance, thinking no doubt that I was doing it for his amusement. The back door opened onto a large yard in which were the laundry and the Bailiff’s cottage, and at the top end the stables and the coachman’s house. The head gardener lived in the Entrance Lodge. In the basement of the house itself, there was a spacious dairy, and various cellars for wine, store-rooms for fruits, etc., and later, Father had one of these converted into a dark room for our photography work. Attached to the front of the house was a Garden Room, which Mother had fitted up for us boys, and which became known as the school-room, although it was mainly used for our hobbies, cycles, etc. Just as at St. George’s Square, I have very pleasant recollections of various members of the staff, inside and out. I have a photo, taken by Wilfred, of a group of the staff which includes, amongst others, the Penticosts, the Landers, the Blackburns, and Bond. Mr. and Mrs. Lander were the butler and cook, and their son was the footman. We boys were not allowed in the kitchen, but nevertheless we made great friends with Mrs. Lander who would always send us back to school at the end of the holidays with plethoric tuck boxes. Lander used to encourage us, on the occasions of a dinner party to our elders and betters, to take up our position in the serving room outside the dining room, and he would see to it that some of the good things were put down on the table for our edification; this was of course all sub rosa. Penticost was the coachman, and quite a character. When he first arrived, with a somewhat numerous family, Wilfred aptly quoted from the Epistle for Whit Sunday, saying “We can now truly say the day of Penticost is fully come”. His stables were always the perfection of neatness and cleanliness. He was a very religious man, being well-known as a preacher in the local Wesleyan Chapel. He made no secret of it that he always included his horses in his prayers, and even said his own prayers in the stables on occasions. In addition to the pair of horses for the carriage, there was a pair of ponies for us boys. I have a photo of Frank and Wilfred in the saddle, with myself standing by, and the stable boy, William Ball, in attendance as also the yard dog, old Sailor. One of the carriages was a phaeton, a sort of four-wheeled dogcart, used principally to take Father to and from the station. Every now and then, Wilfred and I and the two Ellis boys, would pack into it, when “Coachy” got back from the station, and he would drive us up to Keston or Hayes Common and deposit us there for the day, hunting for butterflies which in those days abounded there. We would take our lunch with us, and he would fetch us in the late evening. The Blackburns lived in the Lodge, and Mrs. Blackburn looked after Roy and Margery Whelon as long as they were at Widmore. Blackburn was originally the second gardener but later was promoted to head gardener. Bond was Mother’s personal maid, and also head housemaid. She had an unending supply of nieces to fill the position of under housemaid, etc. The first of these nieces was Annie Smith, who “valeted” us boys when we first got home from Germany, she was somewhat diminutive in stature, and for some reason or other we dubbed her, and always knew her as “Timothy Titus”. She eventually married Penticost’s eldest son, who was our first footman, till he left our service to enter that of the P & O as a steward. Bond had her own bed-sitting room on the first floor. In later years we got into the habit of congregating in Mother’s room when we went to bed, and when we were turned out, we used to migrate to Bond’s room where there was always a nice fire. One evening we, that is Miss Robins, Wilfred and I were sitting in there, Wilfred smoking, when Bond came in and meekly remarked “I don’t know whether you know it, Master Wilfred, but my niece is asleep in bed behind you”! There were two beds in the room, and one had been occupied all the time ! We fled: Finally there was the Bailiff, in charge of the farm. The first we had was named Francis – he too was quite a character: he had a wooden leg, and was quite of a literary turn of mind, he could and did read Latin for his own amusement. His wife managed the laundry. After one or two lapses from sobriety, due no doubt to his contention that whisky was essential when one of the cows was calving, he had to leave. His place was taken by Wilson, while his wife and his mother, Mrs. Chapman, ran the laundry. We had season tickets for the Crystal Palace, and went over, whenever we had a holiday, to swim in the baths there. I remember well going over one very hot day and looking forward to a refreshing swim, only to discover that the baths were in possession of a regiment of boot-blacks from London - we had no bathe that day ! During our summer holidays we were usually sent abroad under the ægis of the inevitable French or German tutor, in most cases. One year, Wilfred and I and the tutor had a walking tour through the Thuringian Forest. Another year, complete with tutor, we went to France and established ourselves at Le Treport, near Eu, where we took a small house, hired a “bonne a tout faire”, and had a good time. Both crossings were made in the SS. Albert, a steamer in which my Father had some interest. The Captain made a great fuss of us two boys, and rigged up a swing for us. On yet another occasion we paid a long visit to the Raemaeckers at Antwerp, crossing in the SS. Baron Osy. Captain Verbist was an old friend of the family and dined several times at the Raemaeckers while we were there. Mr. Raemaeckers was a business friend of my Father’s, there were two grown-up daughters, the younger one being a very well known violinist. She had played in quartettes with the great Joachim, and also before the King of the Belgians. She came over to stay at Widmore on more than one occasion, and we were great friends. Another year, 1885 to be exact, Wilfred and I took our bicycles – without tutor this time – abroad and had a long tour through Normandy and Brittany. We crossed to Havre, where we saw George and his wife and children, visited Villers and Etretat again, and ended up at Mont. St. Michael and St. Malo. Our machines were of course of the old-fashioned type, known as “penny-farthings”, and the rider would be perched on the saddle at the apex of the front wheel, very much larger than the back one, and cyclists were then very few and far between in France. Neither the handsome Percheron horses we met on the roads, nor their drivers, liked us at all; on one occasion, taking advantage of a lovely moonlit night, we announced our intention of pushing on after dinner from Granville to Avranches, a dear old lady implored us, by the love we bore our mother, not to risk our lives ! If we left our machines on view, while in a restaurant or shop, a crowd would collect to see us ride off. On all these trips to the continent we were met in London by Robert Taylor, one of Father’s clerks, and escorted by him on board ship, sometimes after having partaken of an excellent lunch with Father at his office at Old Trinity House, Water Lane, close to Tower Hill. My Father was always very happy at Widmore. He gave up going to the City on Saturdays, having complete confidence in his son-in-law Charles Whelon who had become his partner. He would spend the day “gardening”, which mostly consisted of his walking about the grounds, with a tall spud in his hand – though whether he ever dug up a weed, is I should think, doubtful – and chat with the men in the stables or in the garden. But his chief enjoyment and occupation at home was playing billiards, and he always made welcome anyone who looked in and gave him a game. Frank’s contemporaries, and later our own, were only too pleased to drop in and have a game with the dear old gentleman, though possibly, the excellent cigars he would give them were not the least of the attractions ! He himself was not a great performer. His biggest break was 27, which feat was proudly chalked up over the billiard room door by Wilfred. But he was very proud of having played four “hundreds up” one Saturday – no mean feat at his age, for he was then well over 70. It is no exaggeration to say that the billiard room was occupied every evening, even my Mother being pressed into service if none of us boys or no one else was available. My Father’s birthday, the 11th August, was always a great event; Carrie and her children would come over “en masse” and he would look out for them coming down the drive, and feign a great interest and pleasure in the little presents the grand-children brought him. After his death we found in his study cupboards an accumulation of pen wipers, fretsaw pipe racks, and so on. One of his greatest pleasures (like his French Grandfather in his time) was to welcome his French friends at his house. More especially do I remember a visit from Monsieur Paul Roullet, whom we boys called Uncle Paul, also from Monsieur et Madame Auban Moët. When my parents went over to Epernay to see the latter, they were always entertained “en prince”, a house, complete with staff of servants, and carriages and horses, being placed at their disposal. Every Christmas, large plum –puddings and Stilton cheeses wouild go out to Epernay, while there arrived from there the most gorgeous pates de foie gras. In addition, big boxes or cases of clothing, boots, etc., were despatched each Christmas to members of the first family, abroad or in the Colonies. My Mother always attended personally to the choice of these gifts. In this connection, a good story is told of Mother in later years after my Father’s death. She had engaged a Miss Robins to act as her companion and secretary. One Christmas period the two ladies had arranged to meet at the Bon Marche store at Brixton to complete the “Colonial Shopping”. Miss Robins, having arrived early and requiring a pair of boots, noticed a pile of some 40 pairs or so from which she was just selecting a pair for herself when she was told by one of the attendants that they were not for sale as they had all been bought by one lady. “Not Mrs. Simon of Widmore?” exclaimed Miss Robins, only to be told that indeed Mrs. Simon it was ! My Father was one of the most universally loved men I ever knew, or for that matter, ever heard of. Though a very successful man of business – my Mother told me that one year his income from his business reached £18,000, and, it will be remembered, that at that time Income Tax only now and then reached the giddy height of 7d. in the pound – he was exceedingly attached to his home life. He was always a most genial and excellent host, and loved seeing his friends either in his own home or in theirs. Garden parties were quite the vogue in the summer in the neighbourhood, and it was quite usual to see him holding, as it were, with my Mother, a little court of their own. In the home, he was always most generous and indulgent to us boys. He had some little tricks and sayings of his own, which endeared him to all of us. Thus, if we fidgeted with the cutlery, etc., at meal times, he would gently say “On ne joue pas a table”, or if he heard us whistling in the house, he would call to us “On ne siffle que dans les ecuries, pas dans la maison”. At dinner sometimes, he would solemnly announce that he really must have his hair cut; the correct thing then was for one of us to get up, go round behind his chair, look at his dear head, and blandly ask “where?”, for the dear old man had very little hair at the best of times. He was always very “gallant” to any of our girl friends who were staying in the house. He would turn to one and ask her “What is the prettiest idea of the season?”, and on her replying she did not know, he would say with a chuckle “Your eye, dear”. At dinner, after the servants had left the room, he would pick up his wine glass, go round the table, and draw an armchair close up to Mother, and sit there, often holding her hand and finish his wine. His pet name for her was “Minnie”, and I don’t think I ever heard him call her by any other name. Each Boxing Day he would establish himself in his study, into which the whole of the staff, inner and outer, male and female, would enter and receive a present, in cash or in kind, with a few pleasant words. Penticost, who had a very uncertain temper, was simply devoted to him. He never vented his temper on him, but after his death he used to give notice at irregular intervals to my Mother, which, on one famous occasion at least, he withdrew with the remark “Why, Ma’am, I have always looked forward to driving you to your funeral”. As a matter of fact, he remained in her service till we left Widmore in November 1897. I have a photo of my Mother sitting in the landau in the Widmore drive, with young Roy on her knees, and Penticost on the box holding the reins of Sultan and Turk, and young Lander as the footman beside him. Though Penticost did not drive my Mother to her funeral, he came over from Tunbridge Wells, where he was living, to attend it at Bromley in 1910. Father soon began to “slacken off” in his attendances in the City, going up on three days a week only. In the last winter he was alive, he decided to drive up to Town on those days instead of going up, as usual, by train. He commissioned Penticost to find a horse to do the three day a week journey, and so spare the carriage horses. After the winter was over, he decided to resume the train journey and told Penticost to find a purchaser for the horse, he did so, and secured a price higher by £10 than the price at which the horse had been bought. Father insisted on Penticost keeping the £10 for himself, as a tribute to his care and management of the animal. This act was very typical of Father. He always took a great interest in our School careers and reports, and was looking forward to my going up to Oxford in the Autumn of 1888. I had left Marlborough in the Spring, and spent four months of summer in Germany, at Hamburg, and so missed what was destined to be his last birthday anniversary on the 11th August. I also missed my brother Frank’s marriage to Edith Owen, a god-daughter of Mother’s, which took place on the 21st of that month. I returned home in time for my Mother’s birthday on the 15th September, and in October went up to New College, Oxford. At the end of my first term, when I reached Widmore, I found the dear Father far from well. He gradually got worse and died on Christmas morning. Our family Doctor, Mr. Archer, who had brought us three boys and my little sister into the world, was in regular attendance, and brought into consultation Dr. Ord, an old friend of my Uncle John Simon. Father had caught a cold, which developed into pneumonia, and at the last the heart failed. Late in the evening before his death, Mother had sent Penticost up in the carriage to fetch Dr. Archer, who had had to return to Town, but he did not get back to Widmore till after Father passed away. On the arrival of the carriage, I went out to receive Dr. Archer, and on my telling Penticost that Father had died, he characteristically contented himself with remarking “The Lord be praised”, and drove off to the stables. My Father was buried in Bromley Cemetery, and later, Mother erected a window to his memory in Camden Church at Chislehurst, which the family had always attended. The window represented the women and the angels at the Tomb on the Resurrection Morning, and was copied from a window we had admired in the Cathedral at Tromsø, or Molde, I forget which, during our pleasure cruise to Norway, which Mother and I, with an Aunt and an Oxford friend took in July 1891, after my “coming down” from Oxford. Mother, Alfred and I went on living at Widmore, Frank and Edith had settled in a small house in St. George’s Square, No. 29, but later they moved to a larger house, No. 87, almost exactly opposite to No. 82, our old home. In September, My Uncle John Powell, who was on a visit to Widmore – he was always throughout his life devoted to my Mother – died very suddenly early in the morning of, by a sad coincidence, my Mother’s birthday. He had been advising me in the matter of the legal career I was contemplating, and was looking forward to my future in the legal world. His death was a great blow to my Mother, and a great loss to me. I had frequently attended his County Courts, either at Woolwich, Greenwich or Lambeth, and listened to the cases. I thus lost my Father at the outset of my Oxford career, and my Uncle at the outset of my legal career. I was articled in December to a well-known City Firm of Solicitors, and was admitted a Solicitor in December 1894. Turning now to other memories, it was from about that period onwards that I got to know Alfred and Faulkner very much better. They would ask me to lunch with them at their office, Craven House (afterwards becoming Moët House) in Northumberland Avenue, and I occasionally stayed with them at one or another of their houses in the country. Wilfred was married in 1897 to Florence Worth, and they went out to Mexico and lived there for some time. In the Autumn of 1897 Mother decided to try a winter in Town and took a furnished flat in Ashley Gardens for herself and me, and she shut Widmore up, putting the Blackburns in as caretakers. During that winter, I spent a good many weekends at Widmore, the Blackburns “doing for me”. In April 1898 we sold Widmore Lodge to some friends in Bromley, and Mother took a flat on lease at Queen Anne’s Mansions for herself and me, and we lived there till my marriage to Mary Miller in October 1901, when she returned to Bromley and took up her abode at a small house she had bought some years previously, Keston Lodge, in the Widmore Road. She died there very suddenly on the 12th December 1910, having thus survived my Father by 22 years, all but a few days. Faulkner was the last member of the family to see her alive, as he had driven down from Town on Sunday the 11th to have tea with her. She was buried in the same grave as my Father, it is next to that in which my half-sister Carrie, and her eldest daughter Hilda, are buried. I paid two or three visits to Widmore, after the family, who had bought it from my Father’s Trustees, had died out or left it. The grounds had been sadly neglected, and the house was converted into a Private Residential Hotel. This, however, was not a success, and subsequently the house stood empty for some years. Everything went to rack and ruin, there was hardly a pane of glass left in any of the hothouses. The Lodge, the houses of the Coachman and the Bailiff had fallen into deplorable disrepair, and the garden had been allowed to run wild. The whole thing was so depressing, and so painful to me and to my happy memories of the place, that I gave up going. After a long interval however, as I was motoring past one day, I looked in, to find that not a stock or stone was left, that the whole 11 acres had been cut up, and had become “The Widmore Lodge Estate”, with roads running right through it. There was not a trace of the original house to be seen, and all the fine trees had been cut down. I have never been there since. …………………oOo……………….. |