‘Through the Warrens the blood went back to a Norman knight whose bones lie at Battle Abbey,’ wrote Lewis in Surprised by Joy.2 This was the very ‘William of Warenne’ of Kipling’s poem ‘The Land’ – and it seems a pleasant coincidence that the author of Puck of Pook’s Hill owned and wrote his series of tales about the land which had once belonged to an ancestor of the author of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
Hamilton was an impressive and eloquent preacher, and during many of his sermons was often seen to be shedding tears in the pulpit (‘one of his weepy ones today’, the Lewises would say).3 His religion was, unfortunately, marred by his intense bigotry towards Catholics, whom he considered the Devil’s own children.4 He was also especially sensitive to swearing and in his naval journals he often recorded how he took a sailor aside to whisper some admonition in his ear. Once when returning to his ship in the captain’s gig, in a dangerous sea, he heard the officer in charge rebuke one of the crew with an oath. Hamilton immediately admonished the officer publicly. Afterwards the captain remonstrated with his chaplain, taking the view that the seriousness of the emergency excused the officer’s slip. ‘Captain,’ replied Hamilton, ‘if you found yourself in the presence of the enemy, what would you do?’ ‘Well, I suppose my duty,’ said the captain. ‘And I, Captain, was in the presence of my enemy, and I did my duty,’ was Hamilton’s retort.5 On the positive side of the account can be added the fact that Thomas Hamilton volunteered unhesitatingly for duty in the Baltic cholera camp at a time when deaths from that disease were of daily occurrence in the fleet.
Hamilton’s wife, Mary Warren, was infinitely his superior in energy and intelligence. This clever and aristocratic woman was a typical daughter of a Southern Irish seigneur of the mid-nineteenth century, and the Rectory at Dundela reflected her tastes. The following account comes from her grandson, Warren Lewis:
The house was typical of the woman: infested with cats (which were however rigorously excluded from the study), their presence was immediately apparent to the nose of the visitor when the slatternly servant opened the front door. Supposing him to have been invited to dine, he would find himself in a dirty drawing room, adorned with rare specimens of glass, china and silver. The hand which his hostess extended to him would gleam with valuable rings, but would bear too evident traces of her enthusiasm as a poultry keeper. The announcement of dinner was the signal for a preconcerted rush on the part of the family, the object of which was to ensure the unfortunate guest the chair which had only three sound legs. The dinner, in spite of the orders of the head of the house, was apt to be thoroughly in keeping with the general style of the establishment, and the visitor, having partaken of a perfectly cooked salmon off a chipped kitchen dish, would probably be offered an execrably mangled chop, served in a collector’s piece of Sheffield plate.6
Despite this unusual home life, Hamilton tried to ensure that his children received a good education. He was particularly successful with his second daughter, Florence (or ‘Flora’). She was born in Queenstown, Co. Cork, on 18 May 1862, and was old enough to have benefited from the years the family spent in Rome. On their move to Belfast she attended ‘Ladies’ Classes’ at the Methodist College. At the same time she went to the Queen’s University (then the Royal University of Ireland) where she performed brilliantly. While Albert was preparing for the Bar, Flora was reading Mathematics. In 1880 the eighteen-year-old Flora took her first degree at Queen’s. In another examination the following year, she passed with First Class Honours in Geometry and Algebra. She remained at Queen’s University until she was twenty-three when, in 1885, she passed the second university examination and obtained First Class Honours in Logic and Second Class Honours in Mathematics.
Albert had long been a favourite of Thomas and Mary Hamilton – especially of the latter, who liked discussing politics with him. He, however, was far more interested in Flora than in her parents, and in 1886 he made his feelings known to her. Flora at once made it clear that she could never have anything ‘but friendship to give in exchange’7 and urged him to stop writing to her. Though they lived only a mile apart, the correspondence continued. In 1889 Flora began writing magazine articles and, because of his superior knowledge of English literature, she found in Albert an able and flattering critic. Hamilton, with considerable astuteness, realized that Albert’s attachment to his daughter could be made to serve his own purposes. He was a man much addicted to short jaunts or holidays and in the unfortunate Albert he found not only a courier but, on many occasions, a disbursing officer. ‘I’m a mere parcel,’8 he would say genially, leaving Albert to make all the arrangements. Never had a Jacob served more arduously for his Rachel than did Albert, and he was at last rewarded for his patience. In 1893 Flora agreed to marry him, and in her cool-headed and matter-of-fact way, she wrote: ‘I wonder do I love you? I am not quite sure. I know that at least I am very fond of you, and that I should never think of loving anyone else.’9
After a year’s engagement, during which many love letters were exchanged, Albert and Flora were married. The wedding was celebrated on 29 August 1894 at St Mark’s Church, Dundela. The reception was held immediately afterwards in the Royal Avenue Hotel, and Albert’s somewhat disappointed father-in-law was heard to say, ‘Now that he’s got what he wanted, there’ll be no more jaunts.’10
Albert and Flora went to North Wales for their honeymoon, after which they returned to Belfast and settled at Dundela Villas, one of a pair of semi-detached houses within a mile of Albert’s old home.* It was in this house that their first son, Warren Hamilton, was born on 16 June 1895, and their second son, Clive Staples, on 29 November 1898.
* The villas were demolished in 1952, their place now taken by Dundela Flats, 47 Dundela Avenue, Belfast.
NOTES
1 Undated letter from Albert to Edie Macown, LP II, p. 9.
2 SBJ, ch. 1, p. 1.
3 LP I, p. 3.
4 Ibid., p. 2.
5 Ibid., p. 201.