A True Tale of Verulam Place
Another noticeable event was the delivery of two lectures in the St. Leonards Assembly Rooms by G. P. R. James, Esq., the celebrated novelist. These lectures were so well attended that the lecturer was enabled to hand over twenty guineas to the Literary Institution as the net proceeds. He was at that time staying at 2 Verulam place, whence he took his departure with his family for the Austrian capital.
As there were no buildings, even in 1840, between Verulam place and Cliff Cottages (now Nos. 5 and 6 Eversfield place), I will name the people whom I knew as occupants of the first-named houses at that period, and then relate a love story in association therewith that will do much to verify the assertion that "truth is stranger than fiction." At No. 1, where previously had been a Classical School, with Dr. Byron as the principal, was residing a Mr. and Mrs. Selmes, whose daughter, many years after, married a gentleman of the medical profession, and at a later period caused a sensation by eloping with a military officer. At No. 2, as already stated, were the family of G. P. R. James, the novelist. At No. 4 were Mr. and Miss Mears, and occasionally the lady's brother, Capt. Mears. At No. 5 Mrs. Jermyn and family were staying as visitors. No. 6 was occupied by Mr. Creswell and family, and Mr. Richards and family. At No. 7 the Misses Hancock had lived for several years, and continued there to reside for many years after. Mrs. David Manser, whose husband had built and owned several of the houses occupied No. 9; whilst Mrs. Young was the occupant of No. 10.
There also lived at one of these houses a lass who for the purpose of our tale shall bear the name of Jeanette. She was betrothed to a swain who, also for the purpose of personal mystification, shall be called Leonardo. These are the only fictions however that my story will contain, the rest being strict matter of fact and a true unvarnished tale. The couple had been courting for some few years, and nothing had occurred to destroy the confidence and attachment that sprang from pure affection. Leonardo was a young tradesman of small means, but of respectable and industrious habits, whilst Jeanette was maid and companion to an invalid lady. It had been mutually agreed to defer the day of marriage until both persons had raised their "capital account" to a sum that should all but insure success when themselves and their worldly goods were united. Love was admittedly the ruling passion, but as even that could not well subsist on "bread-and-cheese and kisses," it was resolved to subordinate to some extent the consummation of holy matrimony to the baser idea, but greater convenience of matter-of-money. Jeanette's lady had been advised to undertake a voyage to Madeira that she might avoid the rigour of an English winter which advice she resolved to act upon, if by advancing the position of her maid, the latter could be prevailed upon to accompany her. The engagement of the lovers was quite within the cognizance of the lady referred to, and with true feminine sympathy for her maid, as well as a just appreciation of the feelings of him to whom the latter was affianced, both parties were consulted and their consent obtained. Thus arranged, the voyage was soon undertaken and safely pursued. Improved health being the result it was deemed advisable that the invalid should remain a second winter and the better to accomplish this, it was considered desirable that the intervening summer should also be spent abroad. For this also the sanction of Leonardo was solicited, thus showing by inference that the young tradesman was regarded as a factor of some importance in the calculation. The correspondence between the young people went on smoothly until the time arrived for the homeward voyage to be made, the termination of which was eagerly looked for as affording the opportunity for a happy meeting. This was accomplished and Verulam place became once more the principal rendezvous.
The marriage of the young couple was, however, deferred for an indefinite, but not intentionally long, period; the invalid lady having prevailed on her companion-maid to remain with her until a suitable successor could be met with. Associations in travel and in foreign climes had begotten a mutual attachment which was loth to be severed even when the stipulated period had expired; and with an assurance of this it was with no great surprise that Leonardo found himself importuned to give his consent to the proposal for Jeanette to accompany her lady on one more trip to southern climes, that to be the final one, and the place of sojourn to be Malta. The young tradesman was still making steady headway in business, and was justified in the belief that irrespective of the small additional capital which might accrue from Jeanette's savings by the already overdue marriage, his chances of commercial success would be enhanced by his having someone to look after the housekeeping and to at least answer enquiries during his temporary absence from home. Some twenty-six or twenty-seven summers had already passed over the head of Leonardo and it did not enter into his conception that he was "o'er young to marry," yet he yielded with becoming grace to the solicitation to postpone the event for another year, and so the projected voyage to Malta was undertaken. Among the letters that afterwards passed between the lovers, there was one in which Jeanette made playful allusions to an offer of marriage from the steward of the steamship which conveyed her to Malta. This information excited neither suspicion nor jealousy in Leonardo's breast, but as the postage of letters in those days was expensive it was suggested to Jeanette that in future it would be a considerable saving to send letters weighing half an ounce via Falmouth for 1/- instead of, as theretofore, under a quarter of an ounce via Marseilles for 1/10. To this suggestion the very cool reply was received "If I am not worth 1/10, I suppose I am not worth anything, and the correspondence had better cease." Then, for the first time, Leonardo's suspicion was aroused that the steward's offer had not only not been rejected indignantly as implied by Jeanette's letter but that it had really received favourable consideration. Leonardo with a full conviction that his own professions and intentions had been, and still were, of the most loyal and honourable character, felt that he was undeserving of the accusation of meanness, even by implication; and in a spirit of manly candour he indited (sic) a long, and what proved to be a last, letter to the woman who had doubly and trebly promised to become his wife. In that letter Jeanette was importuned to at once declare if there was not something other than the mere suggestion about the postal route to cause so sudden a change in the tone of her correspondence. If not, she was to think no more of the saving of expense but to send her letters, as before, by the quicker and dearer way. A reminder was given of the deference that had been paid to her wishes in matters of importance, and of her own assurances of affectionate attachment, which had been both appreciated and reciprocated; but at the same time it was distinctly stated that if the epistolary correspondence was to continue it must be resumed by her who had intimated the desire to break it off. Month after month passed, and no reply was forthcoming. The suspense was inimical to mental tranquility, but it was borne with a consciousness of injured innocence which could only be compensated for by a frank disavowal of imputed wrong. As this was not obtainable, Leonardo suspended his final decision until Jeanette again returned to her native town, although when that occurred, standing, as he fancied, on a pinnacle of insulted honour, Leonardo purposely abstained from any undue eagerness to bid her welcome. After a short time, however, the estranged lovers met, but the meeting assumed the common-place courtesies of ordinary acquaintances more than that of attached friends who had long before pledged their fidelity to each other. Yet even then the way was still open for an explanation of that contretemp, accidental or otherwise, which had distrubed the relations. This explanation was not offered and a cool shaking of hands at parting left Leonardo no longer in doubt as to the course which he ought to pursue. He was not one of those conceited coxcombs who fancied that any young woman could be his for the asking, yet he had sufficient knowledge of the world to be assured that for every Jack there was a Jill, and he immediately set about in a more business fashion than before to find the one who was really destined for himself. It recurred to his memory that before her crossing the ocean the first time, Jeanette had consulted - so she said - an astrologer who assured her of her safety in travel, but that a different man to the one she was then keeping company with would be her future husband. She refused to believe, she said, anything the man had told her because of her strong feeling that the latter part of his statement was not possible of realisation. How changed, methinks, must have been her feelings at the period to which this story has reached! The next phase of this true love story will divert the reader's phrenological organ of "locality" from Verulam place, yet the story in its entirety must be regarded as an associative episode in ths (sic) writer's historical and biographical reminiscences of Hastings and St. Leonards. Leaving Jeanette to follow the bent of what appeared to be her own inclination, Leonardo sought an interview with a fair maiden to whom he had been recommended by one who was well acquainted with the personal qualifications of both. Matters were arranged in the course of a few weeks, and this comparatively short acquaintance rapidly developed into the more enduring friendship of man and wife. The aphorism of "marry in haste and repent at leisure" was never more signally falsified; and although the union did not bring wealth, it at least brought happiness, and justified to the full the lines which the present writer, with a full knowledge of the facts, wrote some years later when wanting a theme for his muse. The lines in question assumed the following form :-
FIRST AND LAST LOVE
Speak not of your first-love as matchless and true,
Nor sigh for that only one bliss that you knew;
Of once dreamt-of pleasures your fancy divest,
And cherish the faith that the last love is best.
It needs but clear vision, it maybe to see
How sweet is the new, how confiding and free,
E'en more than the old to a ne'er doubting breast;
How really and truly the last love is best.
Reflection's but needed, our musings among,
To teach us a truth that's been hidden too long;
A truth that 'twere right to be long since confessed,
Of first love and last love the last love is best.
The former, perchance, was a well-gilded toy,
Which brought its possessor no permanent joy;
The latter more surely brings comfort and rest,
And crowns the belief that the last love is best.
I am betraying no confidence when I say that until the literal fulfilment of the seer's predictions as applying to Jeanette's own case, Leonardo was very sceptical, and rather severely critical, of anything which savoured of fortune-telling. But seeing that he had failed in his cherished object, he began to consider whether he was not getting a quid pro quo for his almost savage disbelief of what was called the astrologic (sic) art. He was now on a new hunt, and instead of opposing those influences which were said to favour the chase, there could be no harm, he thought, in courting the god of love in a more compliant mood. Dante had said
"Follow but thy star,
Thou canst not miss at last a glorious haven."
But which was his star? That, indeed, was a mystery to him. He had not been a star-gazer except for purely astronomical purposes, and no such works of modern research and scientific teaching as The Text Book of Astrology or The Science of the Stars, published by Mr. Pearce, in 1879 and 1881, so far as he knew, were in existence in 1843. He had heard it said, however, that anything of importance - and especially the marriage rite - undertaken when Jupiter and Venus were well aspected, would be attended with fortunate results. Very well! There was to be a close conjunction of Jupiter and Venus on the 25th of January, 1844, which the almanacks and newspapers of that period assured the public would be a very interesting phenomenon if the weather should prove favourable. In default, therefore, of that astrological knowledge which he had hitherto contemned (sic), Leonardo declared that he would try his luck and test the wisdom of the astrologers at the same time by selecting that particular day - and almost the very hour - for his matrimonial union with the new object of his affection. There was the bare probability, however, that even in this, his second pursuit, the gods would not be propitiated, and that he was destined to experience that "the course of true love never runs smooth." He had made choice of one whom he was assured was entirely free from any previous -
