Much culture shows itself in the families of Suffolk. I often thought it was owing to the vicinity of Cambridge, which is not more than a drive of thirty miles from Bury. This remark applies to many of the resident gentry, and notably to two sons of Sir Henry Bunbury: to his eldest, Sir C. F. Bunbury, the late baronet and a distinguished botanist, who was only debarred from a Fellowship of Trinity by his being an heir to an estate and title; an honour which his next brother, Sir Edward, received, and who sustained his reputation in becoming the most learned ancient geographer of the day.

Sir Henry, a lieutenant-general, was a man not to be readily forgotten. He had a sound judgment, was a constant reader of books, old and new, a clear-headed critic of art productions, and he held temperate opinions on national affairs; in fact, he encouraged the repeal of the corn laws, though at Barton and Mildenhall the owner of over fifteen thousand acres of land. He was the son of a famous man, the greatest of caricaturists, Henry Bunbury, whose initials of H. B. were adopted by one who came later and who reaped fame on the bold impersonation.

Henry Bunbury was the friend of Sir Joshua, and there are several Reynoldses at Barton Hall; one of priceless value, a full-length portraiture of Lady Sarah Lennox as Venus sacrificing to the Graces—a lady destined to perform a notable part in life.

It was said that her beauty was the exciting cause of her sovereign’s madness, for it was well-known that she smote him to the quick; but she was fated to a higher lot, though her path to it was thorny.

Lady Sarah Lennox was married to Sir Charles Bunbury, the uncle of Sir Henry, a man in whose life the world can take no interest, for he was simply of the horse-racing class, the least admirable of shrewd, clever men.

One may imagine the kind of character Sir Charles was when it is told that he grew tired of his lovely wife! She was finally divorced from so unworthy a partner, and retired to Ireland, in the bitterness of her heart.

After a lapse of several years, Lady Sarah met with a Colonel Napier, who belonged to the historical family of that name, and she married him. From that date her better destiny began. She became a mother, but of such a family! Of her five sons, three were Peninsula heroes, with the friendly eye of Wellington always upon them. Sir Charles Napier, the first general of his day; Sir William, the historian of the Peninsular War; and Sir George, a brave, good man, who was governor of the Cape.

Another son of this great lady was a barrister, and a fifth was a post-captain.

But to one, the only daughter, the sister in so bright a galaxy, one may readily credit the charm that attached to her! To complete the romance, she became the second wife of Sir Henry Bunbury, coming to Barton Hall, to find her beautiful mother’s image there, where it had remained over the great library mantelpiece, sacrificing to the Graces still.

Barton was a comfortable home, and Providence, to make perfection joyous, bestowed on Lady Bunbury a niece whose countenance was the daylight, whose voice was the music of all around. This was Cecilia Napier, the only living child of Sir George. She inherited the beauty and grace of Lady Sarah, whose portraiture by Reynolds was hers also. The family of Sir Henry came of a first marriage, but he loved the adopted one of his second wife as his own. This lovely girl became the wife of his third son, Henry, a colonel in the army.

One would almost think that Providence was the near relation of some families—it appoints them to such pleasant places, makes them so welcome upon earth, lets them want for nothing. So it was apparently at Barton Hall, on which the divine patronage was very generously bestowed.

As we learnt at school, Natura beatis omnibus esse dedit. Still, as a physician would say, this is only the predisposing cause; exciting causes must follow. And here Providence steps in, with the patronage of a prime minister, which is not, in appearance, dealt out disinterestedly; but there is not enough for all.

Sir Henry, on account of his conciliatory manners, was selected after the war to communicate to General Bonaparte his pending sentence of lifelong exile. Sir Hudson Lowe might perhaps have been as well appointed to the task, for the ex-emperor simply burst out into a torrent of abuse and rage, which not all the persuasiveness of the baronet could soften.

Sir Henry began military life at the battle of Maida, under General Stuart, and wrote an account of it in pamphlet form, but I think not for general circulation. He also similarly described his interview with Napoleon. It gave a fuller account of what passed than appears in Sir Walter Scott’s work, which was borrowed from it by Sir Henry’s permission.

Sir George Napier I knew very well; he was sometimes at Barton. Sir Charles I saw only once, and was charmed by the gentle and unpretending manner of the man who had performed such marvels of valour. When last in India, at the conquest of Scinde, he contracted a dysentery, which afterwards returned and proved fatal. He annexed Scinde, in violation of the orders from home. Lady Bunbury told me she had heard, but could not vouch for the truth of it, that in his despatch to the Government he announced what he had done in one apologetic word—peccavi.

It was said that the moral influence enjoyed over the troops by this great soldier even exceeded that of his command as general.

It may be interesting to note that Sir Henry’s successor, the late Charles Fox Bunbury, married a daughter of Leonard Horner, a sister of Lady Lyell. They lived at the old mansion at Mildenhall.

I knew Sir Charles Lyell in 1839, when I was the bearer to him of some fossils; and I met him with Lady Lyell and her sisters in 1853, when I delivered a lecture to a select company in the house.