Appendix IV
Extracts from ‘Memories of her Childhood’ by Letitia Maria Charley, 1841
Foreword
Born in 1831 the writer Letitia, was the youngest daughter of Matthew Charley, of Finaghy House, County Antrim, (b 1788, d 1846) and his wife Mary Anne, daughter of Walter Roberts of Collin House, County Antrim. Letitia married Colonel William Mackay Mackenzie in 1851.
Woodbourne where Matthew Charley’s children were born, and lived in childhood, was given to Mary Anne by her father Walter Roberts, on her marriage (1819).
Finaghy, the family house of the Charleys was at that time occupied by the elder brother John (b. 1784, d. unmarried 1844) and his sister Elizabeth. Matthew succeeded John in 1844 and died in 1846. His wife Mary Anne, continued to live at Finaghy. Her eldest son, John Stouppe Charley on his marriage in 1851 to Mary Stewart Forster lived in Woodbourne, and his children are the cousins referred to as living there afterwards.
The names of Matthew’s children in order were Anna (here called Cecilia), Susan (Caroline) her second name, William (Willie). Two cousins Letitia and Dora Roberts are here called Lettice and Nora.
Introduction
There were six of us, an unbroken half dozen, as death had never entered our nursery, and had likewise spared our dear father and mother to us. So we numbered eight in all, equally divided, four of each sex. First the young ladies – next the boys, and lastly the children – nearly three years between the first and second pair, and four years between the boys and us.
Cecilia and Caroline had just returned from an English finishing school. The three boys Stewart, Walter, Willie and myself, shared a tutor among us at the time of which I write.
Our dear delightful country house was rightly named Woodbourne, for we had a charming glen or wood on one side, and the Lady’s River, a murmuring stream or burn on the other side. We had a lawn all around the house, filled with choice trees, shrubberies where the thrushes sang, a sunny walled garden with plenty of fruit and flowers, an orchard full of apple trees, large yards, stables, byres for the cows, barns for grain, and a pigeon loft, not to speak of a greenhouse and pheasantry, and carpenter’s shop. So you see darlings, when our lessons were over, we had plenty of room to roam about out of doors, and employment of all sorts.
You little Londoners, who live in suburban villa, and see tall dreary brick houses labelled “Woodlands” “Fernbank” “Sunnyside,” can scarcely understand the delights of a country home like ours, but then you have far more books and pictures than we had, and from them have gathered something of such a free, happy, busy life – as ours was.
Chapter 2 – “Woodbourne”
Ours was a home indeed, and not a mere house to dwell in. It was a roomy, airy, sunny house, not large enough to have a number of spare rooms, but with a place for everything and everybody, plenty of closets and presses and pantries so there could be no disorder, for our father was a model of order himself, and moreover a believer in that old rhyme:
“Early to bed and early to rise,
Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.”
So every morning, acting on this, he went for a ride on horseback before breakfast. He added to these virtues an unvarying habit of punctuality. Therefore a large handbell stood on the hall table, and was rung to wake us in the mornings, inside and out of doors for meals, so no one in the garden could make an excuse of not hearing the summons.
Now I love to think of that square sunny hall, with the house door open most of the summer days, and the sweet scent of roses, hawthorn, mignonette and jasmine streaming in with the soft rays of the sun, for Woodbourne faced south, and was sheltered from all cold bleak winds by hills which rose behind it, and tall handsome laurel shrubberies on either side of the house – besides the glen of which I have already spoken. In fact our neighbours used to say we were too shut in, but we all loved the trees, and our father had not that passion for “cutting down” which some men develop. He was conservative even in this.
The trees in our lawn were all choice trees, several beautiful specimens of tall silver firs, which when broad fan-like branches were laden with snow tapering to a pyramid, were a sight to see, or when tipped all over with delicate green in spring.
Our hawthorns were specially splendid, tall as forest trees, and a perfect mass of white blossoms in May. Intermixed with these were a few red thorns, copper beeches and weeping willows. Beneath the latter we made bowery seats in summer, when the warm sun rendered shade grateful, and in this natural arbour as a great treat sometimes we would have a table spread, and enjoy our tea under the drooping branches.
To these feats I would bring some of my precious dolls, of which I have a large “royal family,” to whom I was devoted. In another Chapter I’ll tell you their history, but now before we leave the lawn to return to the house, I shall just tell you one other tree we valued very much, for our grandfather years ago had planted a hazel nut in the ground, and from it sprang up the tree I mention, just as an oak springs from an acorn.
Large folding doors across the hall with our coat of arms and the legend “Justus esto et non metue” above, screened off the stairs, kitchen and offices from view of the hall door, and made them warm and private.
We had no “underground” where servants could be stowed away like wine bottles out of sight; our kitchens were cheerful and airy, and had large wooden presses to hold stores of all kinds, and our dairy was always well filled with cream crocks, and great pans of fresh sweet milk, such as London children never taste.
The stairs were especially nice, not straight up like a ladder, but winding in a spiral curve to the top. The first flight led to a lobby the same size as the hall, and was lit by a large window looking into a square walled-in gravelled yard, with strips of flower borders and fine laurustinus on either side, and a splendid large beech tree in the middle, with a seat all round it.
There were two recesses in the wall as you ascended to the lobby; in one of these stood a fine old mahogany clock, and it might have served as a model for Longfellow’s poem of the old clock on the stairs which ticked out day and night “for ever, never for ever.” In the other recess stood a bronzed Grecian lady, life-size, holding a lamp.
How often have I contemplated the charm of that dark mysterious figure, and created a history for her, till she became quite a friend to me on the stairs, and in the evenings when shadows and lights of all kinds were reflected on the large window between the clock and the lady, I used to fancy I saw a black or white horse coming to fetch her away. But even to my excited imagination she never stirred, tho’ I would rush down the shadowy stairs as if she was chasing me.
Our parents, our sisters and the boys all slept in rooms off the lobby, Cecilia and Caroline had also a nice little sitting room of their own here, filled with favourite books and drawings, and a piano where Cecilia could play and sing without interruption, both of which she did with exquisite taste and talent. Caroline preferred the harp, on which she played old Irish airs.
Up still another flight was our nursery – the to us most delightful room in the world, where we could play and romp to our hearts’ content. It was a long low room, running over a third of the house, sloping at either end and filled in here and there with presses and press beds, and had two windows either side of the fireplace looking over the gardens and meadows thro’ which ran “ My Ladye’s River.” Above that the ground rose to a grassy hill with a gravelled walk and trees all round, and the public road with some of our father’s white cottages; and the National School, of which he was patron, crowned the height.
Long before we had distinct permission from our elders we devoured Sir Walter Scott’s unrivalled romances, but our appetites grew with what we fed on, and such childish tales as Jack the Giant Killer soon failed to gratify our matured tastes, and I question if our passion for pure romance ever did us more harm than many of the weak washy goody stories without life or reality which children read by the dozen now, and forget almost as soon as read.
The Chevalric Knights and Noble Ladyes, heroic deeds and mystic legends, fired our hearts with high desires, and lifted us above the commonplaces of life, making an outer world beyond our quiet sphere, of which we could dream and weave romances, and imitate them – as I will tell you further on. Ivanhoe was of course our greatest favourite. The Pirate, Woodstock, Peveril of the Peak, The Betrothed, the Monastery, and The Abbot were our favourites also. We always preferred those stories which ended well, so Kenilworth, and Fair Maid of Perth filled us with horror. Amy Robsart and the Duke of Rothsay being very great pets of ours.
These novels which abounded in the Scottish dialect we did not take to as small children, but a few years after, Guy Mannering, Die Vernon, Jenny Deans and others became dear to us from having our mother read them aloud. She had a wonderful gift of reproducing the Scottish characters and accent, as the people seemed to live before our eyes when she read. Each volume of the edition of Scott we had, was adorned with two fine steel engravings which imparted a reality to the story in our eyes, and enabled us to “dress up” and copy some of the most stirring scenes in each.
More pictures and plates in our two-volume Family Bible I remember best after a lapse of thirty years, and could almost sketch from memory. So you see even the scarceness of a thing makes it more precious and remembered. You dear pets who have endless story books full of illustrations, do not care half as much for them as we did for those few treasures.
Our Arabian Nights were nicely illustrated, and also helped us in our “dressing up,” for we were born actors, a taste inherited from our mother and grandmother.
I had an early ambition to form a library as well as a museum, and often longed to possess “ my very own self” one of those treasured volumes of Scott, but five shillings and sixpence was a greater sum than I ever could save out of my pocket money, when I had supplied all the wants of my ‘royal family of dolls’ – who by the way must have a chapter for themselves.
Chapter 4 – “Our Pets”
Sometimes our second brother Walter had rabbits, which needed fresh cabbage leaves every day, and frisked about gaily, but he finally adopted the pigeons, and took great pride in his collection of pouters, fantails and monkshoods, keeping their loft in nice order and feeding them with corn. Occasionally Willie and I were allowed to creep up the ladder and go in when Walter wanted to examine their nests. Then there would be a tremendous cooing, and many flew off frightened thro’ the round unglazed windows that revolved on a pivot and were barred across.
It was a pretty sight when Walter scattered the corn in the yard, to see the cloud of white wings fly down, and the pigeons eagerly pluck up the grain, tho’ some of the ill tempered greedy ones would peck at the others in their haste to eat more than their share.
The pheasantry was in the charge of our eldest brother Stewart and the gardener. The gold and silver pheasants were very fine specimens, and had been brought from Lord Derby’s Knowsley Park (the grandfather of the present Earl), who had quite a Zoological Garden there. I admired these splendid birds, but did not care for them, they were so ill tempered, and could not be called pets. When the mother had laid eggs, the male bird would break and suck them, so it was very difficult to rear any young birds. (N.B. Connection between Lord Derby and the Chorley’s.)
Peacocks were considered an ornament to a country house in those days, and we, like our neighbours had one, a perfectly splendid fellow. When he spread out his tail in the sunshine, he would have been an ornament to the throne of Solomon, but he was by no means a pet, for he had a most vile temper, and could scream in a most horrid wicked way when he was in a temper.
The circus was our yearly delight. A portion of Ducroit’s Company used to visit Belfast our chief town, and our dear mother always drove in with us to the grand performance. After reading of the “Lists of Ashby” this seemed the nearest approach to such glorious scenes, and of course we did our best to rehearse them at home.
I will just mention here our other livestock, in which however Willie and I had little interest. There was Zephyr, our father’s stout active cob on which he rode around the farm, for he farmed quite enough of his own land to amuse and interest him, and supply the house with necessities.
Steam machines were not invented then to save wages, and as wages were low and labourers plentiful my father had no lack of men, but he was very particular as to early rising, punctuality and cleanliness, and their wives had to be smart women to please him, and send their children clean and tidy to the National School. On the other hand he was a generous master, and allowances of milk, coal and meat were given as presents to the deserving, and neat cottages were provided for them, which he had whitewashed once or twice a year. His square fields and trim hedges would have borne comparison with any English duke’s.
Some Old Customs Observed at Woodbourne, County Antrim, 1838-1840
The Christmas Rhymers
“The Doctor.” Half a dozen big boys with white shirts over their clothes, and paper caps with coloured ribbons on their heads each represented separate characters. With sticks they fought and were “killed,” and finally “healed” by one of their party, who stepped forward saying “I’m the doctor,” and with a broom in his hand, ran forward crying “I’m little devil doubt, come to sweep you all out.”
These Rhymers went from house to house, and were given money. A Christmas breakfast was given in the stone flagged kitchen. Oaten cake was made with carraway seeds grown in Ireland. Mammy Mary was a guest.
New Year’s Morning
Children bearing small wisps of straw tied with ribbons, went in procession bearing gifts to their parents singing “Good morning friends and parents dear – we wish you all a happy year.” They received gifts of small coins in return.
St. Patrick’s Day
Children masqueraded on St. Patrick’s Day singing “St. Patrick was a gentleman, and came of decent people.”
Easter Monday
Upper Falls, National School, County Antrim. In a meadow at the side of the house (Woodbourne), the children assembled. Dyed eggs were given to them, prepared by the Charley family, dyed with logwood and whins, purple and yellow, and other colours. The eggs were rolled down a grassy slope. The children had to try and catch them without breaking the shells. After tea, in a big loft, the children played games “Thread the needle and sew,” “Blind man’s Buff,” etc. Bob McCreery an old bugler played, while the children danced on the lawn.
May Day
The gathering of dew on May Day morning. Maypole dancing. Garlands and May blossoms at street corners.
Hallow E’en
A family party and friends, burning the nuts, and tests of all kinds for future lovers. Going into the garden and digging up a cabbage in the dark. The weight of earth round the roots denoted the amount of the bride’s dowry, or the wealth of her bridegroom. Bobbing for apples in water to be caught with the teeth. Snap dragon – one of the party dressed up as a fortune teller.
St. John’s Eve
At Granard, County Longford in 1855 were still seen St. John’s fires (a relic of Baal fires). The peasantry took faggots of wood up to the hills, and placed them probably on a small altar and burned them.
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