in a roundabout way with the owner who agreed grudgingly – and provisionally – to a visit. But would he still remember our conversation, and finally give his consent?
What do you know! He recalls my long story over the telephone, and kindly invites me in.
I cross the threshold and enter Emily’s world. Above the door hangs the original bell rope of which there used to be one in each important room – a kind of umbilical cord between employers and servants. When someone pulled the rope, a bell rang next to the name of the particular room on a board in the servants’ quarters, so that the servants knew where they had to rush to.
Their rooms are close to the cellar, the pantry and the kitchen with its spacious cooking area and separate washing-up area. The servants’ area is clearly cordoned off from the living area of the family members by a thick door, and here the wooden floor changes to serviceable tiles. An outside door gives access to the stables and outbuildings where supplies were stored.
There is the high drawing room, where the family would have sat reading or conversing. The fireplace is still there, encased in black marble. And also a study where all the books must have been housed.
Above the stairs are the bedrooms with thick, chamfered wooden ceiling beams. There are several bedrooms with dressing rooms and bathrooms with fireplaces, but it is impossible to say which bedroom was Emily’s. The windows are big and look out over the huge property where the children would have cavorted to their heart’s delight. This was also where Emily and Old Rodge used to play badminton and the children had their own little vegetable gardens.
The church sold the house in 1985 and since then it has been privately owned.
We walk round the back of the house, and I stand for a long time in the garden gazing at the charming old house, the outbuildings and the stables. “There is a pleasant shady garden around the house. It is a very good size, plenty of flowers and vegetables in their season, there are four fields and we have two cows, two pigs, and hosts of pets,” Maud wrote in 1873, when Emily was 13.31
After the death of their father Reginald in January 1895, “two fat pigs, a horse, cows and calves” were offered for sale at the rectory. The enclosed horse carriage that was for sale was fitted out stylishly with cushions and lanterns.
The windows of the spacious drawing room look out on the open land behind the house. One can imagine seeing Emily and her sisters gazing out of this window, perhaps each with a book in her hand.
When the Hobhouse family lived there, this room used to contain a small sofa and a piano, a writing table and piles of books. In summer they would hang white curtains lined with green gauze in front of the windows. In winter the room had crimson curtains and a bright fire glowed in the grate, Maud wrote.32
Sleet falls as I drive back on the narrow, winding road to Liskeard; one can hardly imagine a greater contrast than that between the green, muddy, wet fields of Cornwall and the glaring sun, heat and dust of South Africa that would colour Emily’s blonde hair red.
2
Into the wide world
“I feel as if I were in fairyland or the Arabian Nights and pens won’t tell adequately all I have seen and done …”
– Emily Hobhouse, New York, 1895
Emily had shaken the dust of St Ive off her feet and was intent on seeing the world – not just Oxford where she frequently stayed with her brother and his family, or London where Uncle Arthur and Aunt Mary, Lord and Lady Hobhouse, lived. She was not willing to wait longer than 1895 to chart her own course, albeit that it was unheard of for a woman of her social class to venture alone into the world at the age of 35.
She still had no clear idea of a career or of the path her life should take, but of two things she was sure: she wanted to see more of the world, and she wanted to help people. Many miners from Cornwall – the “Cornish Jacks”, as they were called – had emigrated to America to make a new life there, and Emily followed the same route.
English miners, with their experience of mining tin, copper and China clay, had moved to the United States in their thousands. And it stood to reason that they would have social needs. With the help of the wife of the Archbishop of Canterbury, Edward Benson, Emily made contact with Archdeacon Appleby in Minnesota with a view to doing welfare work among the Cornish miners in that area.
In July 1895 she departed by ship to New York, where she stayed for a few days. She was enthralled with what she saw and experienced there, and wrote to Maud: “I feel as if I were in fairyland or the Arabian Nights.”33 After a visit to Chicago she travelled by train to the mining town of Virginia in Minnesota, where she arrived on 14 August. She and her servant, Mary Scourney from Cornwall, found accommodation in Bodock House, a boarding house on Maple Street. Fortunately they had brought along their own bedding, as the boarding house was none too clean.
“My impulse was to run and flee,” she wrote to Maud, but they did stay there for the night.34 Determined not to stay on in the filthy boarding house, she scraped together a few pieces of furniture – two old hospital beds and some chairs – so that they could move into a cottage.35 The first evening in the cottage, with the bed cleanly made with her own bedding, an exhausted Emily looked forward to a good night’s rest. But the bed was crawling with lice!36 The cottage was infested with the bugs. She grabbed her clothes and a few personal possessions, and ran back to the boarding house in the dark – the lesser of two evils.
Miners and their wild habits were not a novelty to Emily; there were several mines near her home town in Cornwall, and because of her father’s work in the community she knew only too well how the men drank and gambled. In Virginia there were 42 saloons and 12 mines in the area. It was bitterly cold and muddy in winter, and scorchingly hot in summer. The town had a saw mill, shops, a newspaper, electricity and 5 000 inhabitants.37 Emily started working in the community, but found only 55 people who hailed from Cornwall. Well, she decided, she had given her word that she would work here, and there had to be others who needed her services. Many people just sat around idly, she wrote. With £20038 that she collected among the residents she started a library, opened a recreation hall, founded a church choir and a Sunday School.39 She opened her home to everyone, and she taught adults to read and write. In cases of need, she even allowed some of the people to sleep on the floor of her cottage.
The doctor at the hospital was actually only a dentist. Emily decided to lend a hand there as well, as the patients were often neglected. She changed their bedding and sang to the sick.40 She took a woman suffering from enteric fever to her home to care for her there, sacrificing her own bed.41
But she did not believe in only plastering wounds; she tried to uplift people through exposure to books, through singing, literacy and basic temperance programmes to lead them away from alcohol abuse. Her temperance campaign did not impress the saloon owners. “All the riff-raff, the rag-tag and bobtail of society, the dregs of population” flocked there, she wrote. The police were inefficient, and the members of the town council owed their positions to bribery. There were“four houses of ill-fame of large size”, and people gambled day and night.42
The opiniated local minister of the Episcopal Church, James McGonicle, maintained that Emily had to work only for him and confine herself to church work, but she wanted to do more. She reached out to the men in the mining camps in the woods, walking long distances with Mary on Sundays in order to preach to them.
The men received her warmly, even baked cakes for her and offered her tea in a tin mug. She sang to them, and would “see the hard icy faces melt before me”. Soon she had won the trust of the hardened miners and the affection of the
