By the Rev. Canon J. £. Jackson, FSA. 189 
After that, Mr. Lowe, now Viscount Sherbrooke; and last, but by 
no means least, Lord Edmond Fitzmauriee, who, I am sorry is not 
present to hear his name recited as one who has well deserved of the 
constituency of Calne. 
Cauneé FamItizs. 
“One generation cometh and another goeth:” and as the one 
that cometh very often knoweth little or nothing, or forgets that 
little, of the one that goeth, it may not be out of place to give such 
few notices as I have been able to gather about some of the leading 
families who have made their “ exits and their entrances ” upon the 
stage of life at or near Calne. 
FyNAMORE. 
Whetham was for many years the property of the Fynamore 
family, who are said to have migrated into Wilts from Oxfordshire 
about A.D. 1258. The name used to be given (as already mentioned) 
to one of the aisles in the parish Church, and it still survives in one 
of the town charities. In a Perambulation deed of Chippenham 
Forest boundaries the name of Fynamore’s Bridge is given to a bridge 
between Whetham and Cuff’s Corner. Whetham House lay very near 
the old London Road to Bath, and so was useful to friends as a housa 
Lansdowne says that, though not personally acquainted with him, he had been 
much impressed by some articles in the reviews from young Macaulay’s pen ; and 
that this, together with high and moral character, was his reason for making the 
offer to him ; that he had wished in no respect to influence his votes, but to leave 
him quite at liberty to act according to his conscience. This was in February, 
1830. Lord Lansdowne immediately invited Macaulay to Bowood. He, of 
course, went, and it was his first acquaintance with the place. From Bowood, 
on the 10th of February he writes a letter describing the pleasure he had re- 
ceived. The letter is printed by Lord Malmesbury, and in it occurs a rather 
droll passage, coming from the pen of a man of—afterwards—world-wide repu- 
tation. It seems that some writer of fashionable novels had been inveighing 
against the drinking, at aristocratic tables, of that honest old English beverage 
—beer. Macaulay was delighted to find that the new fashion had not found 
encouragement at Bowood, for, says he, ‘* we have mountains of potatoes and 
oceans of beer. Indeed, Lady Lansdowne drank her beer most heartily on the 
only day she passed with us, and when I told her, laughing, that she had put 
me quite at ease on a point which had given me much trouble, she said that she 
would never allow any dandy novelist to rob her of her beer and cheese.” 
