A Country House Christmas
Page 10
“When once you get a nation harping on its past glory, you may be sure that nation’s on the down grade,” Henry would say. “We never boasted of our greatness when we really were great—we took it all for granted.”
Nevertheless, she knew that they were fortunate who had memories of a gentler world—a world before total wars and atom bombs and horror camps and miserable starving slaves.
Beautiful, gentle old world. Beautiful, sweet and gentle, loved and loving old home.
But after all, its passing was only in the nature of all earthly things; whether it was a world civilisation or a human being, or a house. One aged and grew old and one after another the things one valued—physical attractions, mental alertness, bodily vigour, friends, relatives, dearest companions—the things of the body, the things of the mind, the things of the heart—all were taken from one, till at last one had to go as one had come, naked and alone.
Very vividly a memory took shape in her mind. She stood again with her brothers and sisters in the parish church of Vyne at the conclusion of the service. Her father was in his accustomed place in the chancel; at the altar, tall, majestic like a piece of Graeco-Roman sculpture, the white-robed figure of Canon Waldegrave.
The bearded sidesman with the squeaky boots was going round with the velvet bag into which they would drop their coins. Just in front of them were the ranks of the surpliced choir—the little boys with Jim Bowden’s eldest son amongst them, and behind them the men led by Mr. Swan, the schoolmaster, and behind them again the young women, with Miss Bennet of the post office—singing in their North Country accents, but very truly and sweetly, the anthem they nearly always sang whilst the collection was being made:
“Lay up for yourselves treasures in Heaven,
where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt,
and where thieves do not break through
nor steal.”
Peace be to this house.
Luke 10. 5
To my children
First published in the United Kingdom in 1952 by
Herbert Jenkins Ltd as Treasure on Earth.
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by
National Trust Books
1 Gower Street
London
WC1E 6HD
An imprint of Pavilion Books Company Limited.
Text © The Estate of Phyllis Sandeman, courtesy of Nicolette Vincent
Foreword © Mrs F. C. H. Fryer, 1995
Cover design © National Trust Books, 2016
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
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