2 November 1885 – 8 November 1885

Aldworth, 8.15 — misty. Walked with T. down the lane to Lythe Hill and back. I asked him what he had seen of Gordon. Saw him once only : he came to luncheon one day to T.'s, in London. He was shy and rather silent, but he had a pleasant look. W. A. — ' Have you read Gordon's Journals ? ' T. — 'No. The Queen told me I ought to read them.' W. A. — ' You ought hideed.' Then I rapidly but at some length gave him a sketch of the contents of that curious book, and of Gordon's character — man of great powers, immense wilfulness, whence followed a great catastrophe. T. listened much more patiently than I expected, and laughed at G.'s entry — ' I am insubordinate, incorrigible ; if I were my own superior I would certainly never employ myself ! ' He told a droll thing about Lord F. at a Farmers' Dinner at Exeter the other day. Speaking to some toast, his Lordship had occasion to name one of the most important farmers present, and alluded with sympathy to ' a recent family affliction ' which had befallen him — the man's wife having died a short time before. The farmer, having to speak by and by, thanked his Lordship very kindly for the way he had spoken of him, but ' as for my old woman (he went on) she were a teasy twoad, and the Lord's welcome to her!' We talked of Rabelais. T. made Hght of his stercoraceous qualities, and said he used to read him aloud at Cambridge to some of his friends and they all nearly tumbled off their chairs with laughing. The foulness was but a mask to hide his free-thinking. But, I said, he evidently enjoyed it, revelled in it.