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WIT AND WISDOM OF LORD TREDEGAR

WIT AND WISDOM OF LORD TREDEGAR

1911.

WESTERN MAIL, LIMITED, CARDIFF, NEWPORT, SWANSEA, MERTHYR, BRECON AND 176, FLEET STREET, LONDON.

FOREWORD.

There are a few observations which may be deemed appropriate in presenting to the public this collection of extracts from the speeches of Godfrey Charles Morgan, first Viscount Tredegar; but it is inconceivable that any should be necessary by way of apology. During the course of an active and a well-spent life, happily extended beyond the allotted span, Lord Tredegar has made hundreds of public utterances. Innumerable are the functions he has attended during half-a-century and over; and at most of them he has been the central figure. But while his high station would always have secured attention and respect for his words, this volume may serve to prove to future generations what this generation well knows, that Lord Tredegar has held his listeners by his humour or by his earnestness, according to the occasion, and that, in the homely phrase, he has always had "something to say." It is my hope, however, that this little book may have a still worthier mission. For I think it will be found to reveal a noble mind. The simple words of Lord Tredegar have time and again struck deep to the hearts of his audience. Collected here, they reveal the gentleness of his disposition and the purity of his motives. They show the consistency of his life. But they do much more. They appear to constitute a great moral force. Not that his lordship ever posed as preacher, or constituted himself a Court of Judgment on any class of his fellows. There is no trace of a superior tone in his speeches. His words show sympathetic insight into the trials and difficulties that beset the path of every one of us, and his desire was never to censure, but ever to encourage and assist with kindly suggestion and cheering thought.

No aspect of these extracts is so interesting as that which enables us to observe how faithfully and well Lord Tredegar has discharged his promises. Long before he could describe himself as a landowner, he said that if ever he came into that position he would give any assistance he could to his tenants in the way of improving his land. He hoped he would never become "such a ruffian as some people would make landlords out to be." Reading later speeches we find Lord Tredegar undertaking in his turn conscientiously the public duties previously discharged by his father. We find him making the acquaintance of the farmers and studying their difficulties. We find him raising the Tredegar Show to its present pre-eminence in the world of agriculture. It is a noble record of honesty of purpose. And agriculture, as well we know in Wales and Monmouthshire, is but one of Lord Tredegar's many interests. He has spoken wise words on education; he has urged the claims of charity. He has led the way in historical research, and inspired among many whose interest might not otherwise have been aroused a love of our ancient castles and our dear old parish churches. He has spoken eloquently of our Welsh heroes and bards. Upon the value of Eisteddfodau he loves to expound. But it is not these higher interests of his that have made him so beloved. His appeals for the ragged urchin of the streets, his appreciation of the bravery of the worker, his jokes at bazaars, his quips at the cabmen's annual dinners, his love of old customs, his pleasantries at the servants' balls, by these and by his transparent sincerity he has won the affections of all classes of the people, who have found in him a leader who can share sorrows as well as joys. His brave words have been the consolation of the widow of the humble soldier slain in battle, as they have been the encouragement of the boy or girl scholar shyly taking from his hand a prize. He has told the boys they will be all the better for total abstinence, and he has dined and joked with licensed publicans. "Here, at least, is inconsistency," may exclaim the stranger into whose hand this book may fall. But Lord Tredegar justifies himself by the fact that having licensed houses on his estate it is his duty to take an interest in those who conduct them.

Lord Tredegar has never sought to adorn his speeches with rhetoric. He has always spoken so that he who heard could understand. And yet he is reputed justly to be among the best of after-dinner speakers. If it be necessary to delve into the possible secret of his success, one might hazard a guess that it is because in his speeches it is the unexpected that always happens. The transition from grave to gay or from gay to grave is so swift that the mind of the listener is held as it were by a spell, and all is over e'er yet one thought it had begun.

Much of this, however, is in passing. Quite a multitude, at one time or another, has listened to the words of Godfrey Charles Morgan. Quite a multitude has been influenced by them. That multitude, I am sure, will be glad to have those words in permanent form. There may be but a sentence chosen from a speech that has been heard, but that sentence will be remembered or recollected. And to that greater multitude who by the natural force of circumstances cannot have listened to the words of Viscount Tredegar, this little collection may serve to show forth a figure that, though simple, is great in simplicity, and it were strange indeed if some sentences were not found which may help to make a crooked way straight.

THE EDITOR.

WIT AND WISDOM OF LORD TREDEGAR.

EPIGRAMMATIC ELOQUENCE.

I would rather trust and be deceived, than be found to have suspected falsely.

_Reduction of Armaments Meeting, Newport, March 17th, 1899._

Some people will not go across a street to hear an oratorio, though they would go many miles to listen to that very entertaining melody, "Whoa, Emma!"--and I'm not sure that I shouldn't be one of them.--

_Tredegar Show. November 26th, 1879._

The other day I was doing a little bit of horse-cropping--I'm fond of that sort of thing--and went into an Irish dealer's yard, where I saw a horse which grunted very much. Looking at the dealer, I said, "The horse is a roarer," and the Irishman replied: "Ah, no, me lord, not a bit of it. I've 'ad 'im from two years ould, an' e' 'ad wunce a most desprit froight, an' 'e's 'ad the hiccups ever since!"

_Tredegar Show, November 26th, 1879._

I do not think there is a man in England who has more at heart than myself the religious education of children. In 1839 the Chartist Riots took place at Newport. In the following year National Schools were opened, and I believe that had the men who took part in these riots received the education imparted at the National Schools they would never have decided upon such a misguided course of action.

_Jubilee of Newport National Schools, May 16th, 1890._

I was rather alarmed when I received the notice, "Peach Blossom Fancy Dress Fair," and I telegraphed at once to a lady who I thought knew what was going on and asked, "Am I obliged to come in fancy dress?" The answer I got was, "You need not wear anything."

_Llangibby Church Fete, August, 1910._

I generally pay great attention to what a clergyman says, but you cannot always take the advice of a clergyman. A certain man had a dog, and his minister told him that he had better sell the dog and get a pig, to which the man replied, "A pretty fool I should look going rat-catching with a pig."

_St. Paul's Garden Fete, Newport, June 23rd, 1910._

Without some sort of religion no man can be happy.

_St. Paul's Garden Fete, Newport, June 23rd, 1910._

I am not accustomed to begging, being more accustomed to being begged of. That is one of the hereditary privileges of members of the House of Lords.

_Meeting in connection with the new Infirmary for Newport, March 17th, 1897._

It appears to me that my good qualities increase in proportion as the hair comes off the top of my head, and it is well that in proportion as we grow less ornamental we should grow more useful.

_Tredegar Show, November 29th, 1876._

I really think I must be out of place here. You know I am one of the hereditary nonentities. I cannot help the hereditary part of the business, and I have tried all my life to avoid the other.

_South Monmouthshire Conservative Association, December 22nd, 1909._

You ought, of course, to learn something about ancient art, or you will be like a certain Lord Mayor of whom I have heard. One day he received a telegram from some people who were carrying on excavations in Greece, and who had discovered a statue by Phidias. They thought, in common with most foreigners, that the Lord Mayor was the most powerful person in the kingdom--abroad he is supposed to rule the country. Anyway, they sent him a telegram saying "Phidias is recovered." The Lord Mayor wired back that he was pleased to hear it, but that he did not know that Phidias had been unwell.

_Art School Prize Distribution, Newport, December 12th, 1899._

A noted musician, when asked whether he thought it was right to carry out capital punishment, replied: "No; because you can do a man to death with a piano."

_At Llandaff, June 26th, 1900._

I believe I have laid more foundation stones than any other man in England. I have mallets and trowels sufficient to supply, I believe, every Parish Church in the country. They are very handsome and ornamental, and I hope I shall have more of them.

_Foundation Stone Laying, St. John's Church, Cardiff, March 12th, 1889._

We (agriculturists) are looked upon as a long-suffering and patient race, and some of the manufacturing class think we are fit subjects for bleeding. In fact, it has been said that agriculturists are like their own sheep, inasmuch as they can bear a close shaving without a bleat; whereas the manufacturers are like pigs; only touch their bristles and they will "holler like the devil."

_Tredegar Show, December 17th, 1867._

Lord Rosebery is alternately a menace and a sigh.

_Conservative Dinner, Newport, November 15th, 1895._

We have had an old-fashioned winter, and I do not care if I never see another. The only people, I fancy, who have enjoyed the winter are the doctors and the Press.

_Servants' Ball_, _January 16th, 1891._

MEMORIES OF BALACLAVA.

I consider myself one of the most fortunate men in England to have been one of those spared out of the 600 about whom so much has been said and sung. Although my military career has been brief, I have seen a great deal. I have seen war in all its horrors. It is said to be "an ill wind that blows nobody good"; so it has been with me. I have learned to doubly appreciate home and all its comforts. Before going out to the Crimea I was accustomed to see, on these occasions, farmers looking happy and contented, and I was in the habit of thinking what a great nation England was, and how she flourished in all things; but since the war commenced I have seen the other side of the picture. I have seen an army march into an hostile country, and in the midst of farms flowing with milk and honey, and teeming with corn and every luxury--and there, in a few hours, all was desolation, one stone not being left on another, and the people made slaves to the invaders. How thankful we ought to be that we are not suffering at the hand of an invading army. Now that my military career is at an end I am sure that a great many of you will sympathise with my father, whose anxiety has been very great. We were out during the most dreadful period of the war, and it need not be wondered at that I yielded to the most earnest entreaties of my father to relinquish my connection with the army lest I should bring his grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. My father thought that one such action as I have been in was sufficient to prove the mettle of his son. I will not further enlarge on the horrors and miseries of war. May you never see them as I have done, and may we all meet at this festive board next year.

_Newport Agricultural Show, December 18th, 1855._

I do not intend to say much about Balaclava to-day because you have heard the old story over and over again, and I am too old now to invent stories of Balaclava. On my way down here I stopped to receive a telegram worded in these terms:--"Fifteen survivors of the Balaclava Charge send your lordship hearty congratulations and affectionate remembrances on this day, the 54th anniversary." Well, recollections of a sad event are at any time, of course, unpleasant, but it is particularly sad to think that there are now only 15 survivors remaining out of the Light Brigade of 600. That attenuated number does not include myself, and there are three other officers still alive. You may be pretty confident that of these few survivors there were at least two or three with whom I conversed within a few hours of the Balaclava Charge. You can imagine those conversations. They were not very lively ones. They referred probably to some comrade who had been killed or to the difficulty of filling the place of some officer who had fallen; because when we drew up after the Balaclava Charge I was the officer in command of the decimated regiment. All my superior officers had been either killed or wounded, and I was placed in the difficult position to find men suddenly to fill the vacancies. So you can imagine the recollections of those survivors. Since that time there have been a number of gallant deeds on the part of the British army, and I hope that those gallant deeds will be remembered, just as the Balaclava Charge is remembered here. I hope the British nation will never forget such events as Trafalgar and Waterloo, but will always hoist a flag or do something else to commemorate them.

_Balaclava Dinner, Bassaleg, October 25th, 1908._

My own courage in the memorable charge was small, but the deed of daring conferred everlasting credit on the Senior Officers who took part in it. I trust that you will keep your offspring fully acquainted with the heroic deeds of the British Army, and induce them to display similar courage in the hour of their country's danger.

_Balaclava Dinner, Castleton, October 25th, 1890._

When a person gets beyond the allotted age of man there must, I think, be in his mind a melancholy thought regarding the possibility of his being present on a similar occasion twelve months hence. I am afraid that some men of my age would have to limp into a room, probably assisted by a crutch. Fortunately, however, I was able to walk into the room without a crutch and without assistance, and I am thankful for that to the Power above. The term "hero" is a term with which many soldiers do not agree. The mention of the word recalls to my mind the well-known lines of Rudyard Kipling:

"We aren't no thin red 'eroes, An' we aren't no blackguards, too, But single men in barracks, Most remarkable like you."

I am sure the soldiers who fought with the Light Cavalry at Balaclava did not think themselves greater heroes than others in the Crimea who did their duty. Quite recently I read an article in a military magazine, it dealt with the question of the advance of cavalry and the arms which should be given them--the lance, the sword, and the rifle. The article commenced with the statement that it was the business of every soldier to go into action with the determination to try and kill someone. I suppose that is right in its way, but it was hardly the sentiment we went into action with. We went into action to try to defeat the enemy, but the fewer we killed the better. I have to confess that I tried to kill someone, but to this day I congratulate myself on the fact that I do not know whether I succeeded or no. In these days of long range guns our consciences are saved a great deal, and so far as killing anyone goes I always give myself the benefit of the doubt, so that the charge of murder cannot be brought against me.

_Balaclava Dinner, Bassaleg, October 29th, 1910._

QUIPS AT THE SERVANTS' BALL.

I have arrived at the age when to clasp the waist of one of the opposite sex for three hours is not considered the height of human happiness. I remember, however, with pleasure, a time in my younger days when I thought it was so, and perhaps some of those who can indulge in a valse without feeling giddy, or a polka without being "blown," think so now.

_Servants' Ball, January 14th, 1889._

I am happy to be able truly and honestly to say that I have not a word of difference with any servant of my establishment. Each year as it rolls onward finds me stiffer in the joints, shorter in the breath, and less able than formerly to perform the double shuffle, but there are others coming on--the younger members of the family--who will be able to kick up their heels as lightly as once I was able to do. As each year rolls round, too, there are always saddening memories, but on an occasion of this sort I will make no allusions to them, ... I hope you will stick to old fashions and old ways. You may be told of new-fangled ways, and be advised to get rid of the old, but I think it will be well if you do not pay too much attention to those advisers. England is like old Tredegar House, and you will find that the customs now prevailing have been in vogue for over 500 years. You will probably be told that the best way to make people happy is to make the poor rich and the rich poor; but, in truth, the richer people are, the better able they are to help the poor.

_Servants' Ball, January 7th, 1910._

Many of you waited last night for the old year to go out and the new year to come in. I did for one. I listened at the window and I heard bells ringing, and noises which I can only describe as hideous. There is an invention in this part of the world, which I believe comes from America (where they have a great many disagreeable things) called a "hooter." When I listened last night it seemed to me that it was deliberately hooting out the old year which to so many of us had painful recollections; and it occurred to me that it was a most appropriate thing to do. It was the wettest spring, the coldest summer, the windiest autumn that I have ever known.

_Servants' Ball, January 1st, 1892._

I can imagine the Bassaleg Parish Council rejoicing in a license for dancing in the hall, and the teetotallers passing a resolution in favour of total abstinence, in which case we should have to obtain our refreshments from the village pump.

_Servants' Ball, January 9th, 1894._

Railways are springing up all round, and, reading the signs of the times as I do, I think there will be increased prosperity. If all the railways now proposed are constructed, we shall be able to paraphrase the poet's lines:--

Railways to right of them, Railways to left of them, Railways behind them, Most of them silly 'uns. Into the lawyer's jaw, And the Contractor's paw, Go the eight millions.

I shall be able to convert Tredegar House into the "Railway Hotel," join the Licensed Victuallers' Association, and do a good trade--if I can get a license. We have progressed a good deal lately, even in dancing. I can remember the minuet being the fashion. It was danced with a great deal of bowing and scraping. Then the waltz, quadrille, and lancers came. We next had a kitchen lancers, and this year we have a barn dance. Next year, perhaps, we shall have a pigstye polka, which will no doubt be very amusing.

_Servants' Ball, January 8th, 1896._

There have been many changes in the manners and customs of the country during late years. I am very fond of old customs, and I hope this old-fashioned Servants' Ball will be kept up by those who come after me. I am sure there is no gentleman in England who is blessed with a better lot of servants than I have. If sometimes by my manner I do not appear pleased, I hope you will make allowance for the business anxieties constantly hanging over my head, and which do not always conduce to a pleasant expression. I will relate an incident. An individual who apparently takes a great deal of interest in me wrote to me not so long ago and asked, "Why did you look so proud and haughty when you met me the other day?" I have no recollection of having been proud and haughty, but I have a very distinct recollection of a very tight boot and a very bad corn.

_Servants' Ball, January 8th, 1896._

I always sympathise with you in your sorrows and try to join you in your pleasures. In this life, unfortunately, for a good many, there are more sorrows than pleasures, but I think it is the duty of all who have it in their power to try to make those around them have, if possible, more pleasures in their lives than sorrows. I congratulate myself that I have still a kick left in me. You know that Milton, the poet, has said in two lines:

"Come and trip it as you go On the light fantastic toe."

but when your toe begins to take a fantastic shape it is pretty nearly time to give up dancing. As my toes are beginning to take that shape, I am afraid I shall not have a kick left much longer. I have always spoken a few words to you on these occasions--sometimes of sentiment, sometimes of politics, and sometimes of fun. I usually prefer fun, because there is generally enough of the other phases around us. I will therefore content myself with giving the establishment a little bit of advice, or rather a hint. I have found that what I say on these occasions has somehow or other found its way into the papers. I do not know exactly how that is. However, I think it will be more impressive in print, because if you forget what I say before the end of the evening, you will be able to read it in the Press next day. My hint is about fires. There are large fireplaces in Tredegar House, which is an old one, full of old oak which is liable to catch fire. During the last few weeks some fine old country houses have been destroyed by fire. I do not think this has occurred through carelessness. I know my servants are not careless. What I want you to understand is the difference between a fire and a furnace. Old Welsh families--and my family is really an old Welsh family--all believe that they have very long pedigrees. There are in the strong room at Tredegar House a great many old records--some of which I have read out of curiosity. Many of them, no doubt, are mythical, and some are accurate, but in all my study of them I have not been able to discover that I bear any relationship to Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego. I therefore fail to see why the household staff should pile up furnaces, especially now that I assure them I am not quite impervious to fire. I always like to entertain you a little on these occasions. I will therefore just sing to you a few lines, and ask Young Charley (the huntsman) to come in at the end. I notice that Old Charley (the former huntsman) is also present, and he, perhaps, will join in as well. His Lordship then sang the following verses to the tune of "Ben Bolt":--