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diff --git a/21434.txt b/21434.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af1b63d --- /dev/null +++ b/21434.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8752 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Letters of Edward FitzGerald to Fanny Kemble +(1871-1883), by Edward FitzGerald, Edited by William Aldis Wright + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Letters of Edward FitzGerald to Fanny Kemble (1871-1883) + + +Author: Edward FitzGerald + +Editor: William Aldis Wright + +Release Date: May 14, 2007 [eBook #21434] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD TO +FANNY KEMBLE (1871-1883)*** + + + + + +Transcribed from the 1902 Macmillan and Co. edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + + + + +LETTERS +OF +EDWARD FITZGERALD +TO +FANNY KEMBLE +1871-1883 + + +EDITED BY +WILLIAM ALDIS WRIGHT + +London +MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED + +NEW YORK: THE MACMILLAN COMPANY +1902 + +_All rights reserved_ + +_First Edition_ 1895 +_Second Edition_ 1902 + +{Edward FitzGerald. From a photograph by Mess. Cade & Wight, Ipswich: +pi.jpg} + +Of the letters which are contained in the present volume, the first +eighty-five were in the possession of the late Mr. George Bentley, who +took great interest in their publication in _The Temple Bar Magazine_, +and was in correspondence with the Editor until within a short time of +his death. The remainder were placed in the Editor's hands by Mrs. +Kemble in 1883, and of these some were printed in whole or in part in +FitzGerald's Letters and Literary Remains, which first appeared in 1889. + +TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, +20_th_ _June_ 1895. + +{Frances Anne Kemble. Engraved by J. G. Stodart from the original +painting by Sully in the possession of the Hon. Mrs. Leigh: pii.jpg} + + + + +LETTERS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD TO FANNY KEMBLE +1871-1883 + + +'Letters . . . such as are written from wise men, are, of all the words +of man, in my judgment the best.'--BACON. + +The following letters, addressed by Edward FitzGerald to his life-long +friend Fanny Kemble, form an almost continuous series, from the middle of +1871 to within three weeks of his death in 1883. They are printed as +nearly as possible as he wrote them, preserving his peculiarities of +punctuation and his use of capital letters, although in this he is not +always consistent. In writing to me in 1873 he said, 'I love the old +Capitals for Nouns.' It has been a task of some difficulty to arrange +the letters in their proper order, in consequence of many of them being +either not dated at all or only imperfectly dated; but I hope I have +succeeded in giving them, approximately at least, in their true sequence. +The notes which are added are mainly for the purpose of explaining +allusions, and among them will be found extracts from other letters in my +possession which have not been published. The references to the printed +'Letters' are to the separate edition in the Eversley Series, 2 vols. +(Macmillans, 1894). + +In a letter to Mr. Arthur Malkin, October 15, 1854 ('Further Records,' +ii. 193), Mrs. Kemble enunciates her laws of correspondence, to which +frequent reference is made in the present series as the laws of the Medes +and Persians: 'You bid me not answer your letter, but I have certain +_organic laws_ of correspondence from which nothing short of a miracle +causes me to depart; as, for instance, I never write till I am written +to, I always write when I am written to, and I make a point of always +returning the same amount of paper I receive, as you may convince +yourself by observing that I send you two sheets of note-paper and Mary +Anne only half one, though I have nothing more to say to you, and I have +to her.' + +WILLIAM ALDIS WRIGHT. + +_January_ 1895. + + + + +I. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _July_ 4, [1871.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I asked Donne to tell you, if he found opportunity, that some two months +ago I wrote you a letter, but found it so empty and dull that I would not +send it to extort the Reply which you feel bound to give. I should have +written to tell you so myself; but I heard from Donne of the Wedding soon +about to be, and I would not intrude then. Now that is over {3a}--I hope +to the satisfaction of you all--and I will say my little say, and you +will have to Reply, according to your own Law of Mede and Persian. + +It is a shame that one should only have oneself to talk about; and yet +that is all I have; so it shall be short. If you will but tell me of +yourself, who have read, and seen, and done, so much more, you will find +much more matter for your pen, and also for my entertainment. + +Well, I have sold my dear little Ship, {3b} because I could not employ my +Eyes with reading in her Cabin, where I had nothing else to do. I think +those Eyes began to get better directly I had written to agree to the +Man's proposal. Anyhow, the thing is done; and so now I betake myself to +a Boat, whether on this River here, or on the Sea at the Mouth of it. + +Books you see I have nothing to say about. The Boy who came to read to +me made such blundering Work that I was forced to confine him to a +Newspaper, where his Blunders were often as entertaining as the Text +which he mistook. We had 'hangarues' in the French Assembly, and, on one +occasion, 'ironclad Laughter from the Extreme Left.' Once again, at the +conclusion of the London news, 'Consolations closed at 91, ex Div.'--And +so on. You know how illiterate People will jump at a Word they don't +know, and twist it in[to] some word they are familiar with. I was +telling some of these Blunders to a very quiet Clergyman here some while +ago, and he assured me that a poor Woman, reading the Bible to his +Mother, read off glibly, 'Stand at a Gate and swallow a Candle.' I +believe this was no Joke of his: whether it were or not, here you have it +for what you may think it worth. + +I should be glad to hear that you think Donne looking and seeming well. +Archdeacon Groome, who saw him lately, thought he looked very jaded: +which I could not wonder at. Donne, however, writes as if in good +Spirits--brave Man as he is--and I hope you will be able to tell me that +he is not so much amiss. He said that he was to be at the Wedding. + +You will tell me too how long you remain in England; I fancy, till +Winter: and then you will go to Rome again, with its new Dynasty +installed in it. I fancy I should not like that so well as the old; but +I suppose it's better for the Country. + +I see my Namesake (Percy) Fitzgerald advertizes a Book about the Kembles. +That I shall manage to get sight of. He made far too long work of +Garrick. I should have thought the Booksellers did not find that pay, +judging by the price to which Garrick soon came down. Half of it would +have been enough. + +Now I am going for a Sail on the famous River Deben, to pass by the same +fields of green Wheat, Barley, Rye, and Beet-root, and come back to the +same Dinner. Positively the only new thing we have in Woodbridge is a +Waxen Bust (Lady, of course) at the little Hairdresser's opposite. She +turns slowly round, to our wonder and delight; and I caught the little +Barber the other day in the very Act of winding her up to run her daily +Stage of Duty. Well; she has not got to answer Letters, as poor Mrs. +Kemble must do to hers always sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +II. + + +WOODBRIDGE. NOVr. 2/71. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Is it better not to write at all than only write to plead that one has +nothing to say? Yet I don't like to let the year get so close to an end +without reminding you of me, to whom you have been always so good in the +matter of replying to my letters, as in other ways. + +If I can tell you nothing of myself: no Books read because of no Eyes to +read them: no travel from home because of my little Ship being vanished: +no friends seen, except Donne, who came here with Valentia for two +days--_you_ can fill a sheet like this, I know, with some account of +yourself and your Doings: and I shall be very glad to hear that all is +well with you. Donne said he believed you were in Ireland when he was +here; and he spoke of your being very well when he had last seen you; +also telling me he thought you were to stay in England this winter. By +the by, I also heard of Mrs. Wister being at Cambridge; not Donne told me +this, but Mr. Wright, the Bursar of Trinity: and every one who speaks of +her says she is a very delightful Lady. Donne himself seemed very well, +and in very good Spirits, in spite of all his domestic troubles. What +Courage, and Good Temper, and Self-sacrifice! Valentia (whom I had not +seen these dozen years) seemed a very sensible, unaffected Woman. + +I would almost bet that you have not read my Namesake's Life of your +Namesakes, which I must borrow another pair of Eyes for one day. My Boy- +reader gave me a little taste of it from the Athenaeum; as also of Mr. +Harness' Memoirs, {6} which I must get at. + +This is a sorry sight {7} of a Letter:--do not trouble yourself to write +a better--that you must, in spite of yourself--but write to me a little +about yourself; which is a matter of great Interest to yours always + +E. F.G. + + + + +III. + + +[_Nov._ 1871.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I ought to be much obliged to you for answering my last letter with an +uneasy hand, as you did. So I do thank you: and really wish that you +would not reply to this under any such pain: but how do I know but that +very pain will make you more determined to reply? I must only beg you +not to do so: and thus wash _my_ hands of any responsibilities in the +matter. + +And what will you say when I tell you that I can hardly pity one who +suffers from Gout; though I would undoubtedly prefer that you should be +free from that, or any other ailment. But I have always heard that Gout +exempts one from many other miseries which Flesh is heir to: at any rate, +it almost always leaves the Head clear: and that is so much! My Mother, +who suffered a good deal, used often to say how she was kept awake of +nights by the Pain in her feet, or hands, but felt so clear aloft that +she made Night pass even agreeably away with her reflections and +recollections. + +And you have your recollections and Reflections which you are gathering +into Shape, you say, in a Memoir of your own Life. And you are good +enough to say that you would read it to me if I--were good enough to +invite you to my House here some Summer Day! I doubt that Donne has +given you too flattering an account of my house, and me: you know he is +pleased with every one and everything: I know it also, and therefore no +longer dissuade him from spending his time and money in a flying Visit +here in the course of his Visits to other East Anglian friends and +Kinsmen. But I feel a little all the while as if I were taking all, and +giving nothing in return: I mean, about Books, People, etc., with which a +dozen years discontinuance of Society, and, latterly, incompetent Eyes, +have left me in the lurch. If you indeed will come and read your Memoir +to me, I shall be entitled to be a Listener only: and you shall have my +Chateau all to yourself for as long as you please: only do not expect me +to be quite what Donne may represent. + +It is disgusting to talk so much about oneself: but I really think it is +better to say so much on this occasion. If you consider my +circumstances, you will perhaps see that I am not talking unreasonably: I +am sure, not with sham humility: and that I am yours always and sincerely + +E. F.G. + +P.S. I should not myself have written so soon again, but to apprise you +of a brace of Pheasants I have sent you. Pray do not write expressly to +acknowledge them:--only tell me if they don't come. I know you thank me. +{9} + + + + +IV. + + +[27 _Feb._, 1872.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Had I anything pleasant to write to you, or better Eyes to write it with, +you would have heard from me before this. An old Story, by way of +Apology--to one who wants no such Apology, too. Therefore, true though +it be there is enough of it. + +I hear from Mowbray Donne that you were at his Father's Lectures, {10a} +and looking yourself. So that is all right. Are your Daughters--or one +of them--still with you? I do not think you have been to see the +Thanksgiving Procession, {10b} for which our Bells are even now +ringing--the old Peal which I have known these--sixty years almost--though +at that time it reached my Eyes (_sic_) through a Nursery window about +two miles off. From that window I remember seeing my Father with another +Squire {10c} passing over the Lawn with their little pack of Harriers--an +almost obliterated Slide of the old Magic Lantern. My Mother used to +come up sometimes, and we Children were not much comforted. She was a +remarkable woman, as you said in a former letter: and as I constantly +believe in outward Beauty as an Index of a Beautiful Soul within, I used +sometimes to wonder what feature in her fine face betrayed what was not +so good in her Character. I think (as usual) the Lips: there was a twist +of Mischief about them now and then, like that in--the Tail of a +Cat!--otherwise so smooth and amiable. I think she admired your Mother +as much as any one she knew, or had known. + +And (I see by the Athenaeum) Mr. Chorley is dead, {11} whom I used to see +at your Father's and Sister's houses. Born in 1808 they say: so, one +year older than yours truly E. F.G.--who, however, is going to live +through another page of Letter-paper. I think he was a capital Musical +Critic, though he condemned Piccolomini, who was the last Singer I heard +of Genius, Passion, and a Voice that told both. I am told she was no +Singer: but that went some way to make amends. Chorley, too, though an +irritable, nervous creature, as his outside expressed, was kind and +affectionate to Family and Friend, I always heard. But I think the +Angels must take care to keep in tune when he gets among them. + +This is a wretched piece of Letter to extort the Answer which you feel +bound to give. But I somehow wished to write: and not to write about +myself; and so have only left room to say--to repeat--that I am yours +ever sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +V. + + +[1872.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I set off with a Letter to you, though I do not very well know how I am +to go on with it. But my Reader has been so disturbed by a Mouse in the +room that I have dismissed him--9.30 p.m.--and he has been reading (so +far as he could get on) Hawthorne's Notes of Italian Travel: which +interest me very much indeed, as being the Notes of a Man of Genius who +will think for himself independently of Murray &c. And then his Account +of Rome has made me think of you more than once. We have indeed left off +to-night at Radicofani: but, as my Boy is frightened away by the Mouse, I +fancy I will write to you before I take my one Pipe--which were better +left alone, considering that it gives but half an hour's rather pleasant +musing at the expense of a troubled night. Is it not more foolish then +to persist in doing this than being frightened at a Mouse? This is not a +mere fancy of the Boy--who is not a Fool, nor a 'Betty,' and is seventeen +years old: he inherits his terror from his Mother, he says: positively he +has been in a cold Sweat because of this poor little thing in the room: +and yet he is the son of a Butcher here. So I sent him home, and write +to you instead of hearing him read Hawthorne. He is to bring some +poisoned Wheat for the Mouse to-morrow. + +Another Book he read me also made me think of you: Harness: whom I +remember to have seen once or twice at your Father's years ago. The +Memoir of him (which is a poor thing) still makes one like--nay, +love--him--as a kindly, intelligent, man. I think his latter letters +very pleasant indeed. + +I do not know if you are in London or in your 'Villeggiatura' {13a} in +Kent. Donne must decide that for me. Even my Garden and Fields and +Shrubs are more flourishing than I have yet seen them at this time of +Year: and with you all is in fuller bloom, whether you be in Kent or +Middlesex. Are you going on with your Memoir? Pray read Hawthorne. I +dare say you do not quite forget Shakespeare now and then: dear old +Harness, reading him to the last! + +Pray do you read Annie Thackeray's new Story {13b} in Cornhill? She +wrote me that she had taken great pains with it, and so thought it might +not be so good as what she took less pains with. I doated on her Village +on the Cliff, but did not care for what I had read of hers since: and +this new Story I have not seen! And pray do you doat on George Eliot? + +Here are a few questions suggested for you to answer--as answer I know +you will. It is almost a Shame to put you to it by such a piece of +inanity as this letter. But it is written: it is 10 p.m. A Pipe--and +then to Bed--with what Appetite for Sleep one may. + +And I am yours sincerely always + +E. F.G. + + + + +VI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _June_ 6, [1872]. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Some little while ago I saw in a London Book Catalogue 'Smiles and +Tears--a Comedy by Mrs. C. Kemble'--I had a curiosity to see this: and so +bought it. Do you know it?--Would you like to have it? It seems to be +ingeniously contrived, and of easy and natural Dialogue: of the half +sentimental kind of Comedy, as Comedies then were (1815) with a +serious--very serious--element in it--taken from your Mother's Friend's, +Mrs. Opie's (what a sentence!) story of 'Father and Daughter'--the +seduced Daughter, who finds her distracted Father writing her name on a +Coffin he has drawn on the Wall of his Cell--All ends happily in the +Play, however, whatever may be the upshot of the Novel. But an odd thing +is, that this poor Girl's name is 'Fitz Harding'--and the Character was +played by Miss Foote: whether before, or after, her seduction by Colonel +Berkeley I know not. The Father was played by Young. + +Sir Frederick Pollock has been to see me here for two days, {15} and put +me up to much that was going on in the civilized World. He was very +agreeable indeed: and I believe his Visit did him good. What are you +going to do with your Summer? Surely never came Summer with more +Verdure: and I somehow think we shall have more rain to keep the Verdure +up, than for the last few years we have had. + +I am quite sure of the merit of George Eliot, and (I should have thought) +of a kind that would suit me. But I have not as yet found an Appetite +for her. I have begun taking the Cornhill that I may read Annie +Thackeray--but I have not found Appetite for her as yet. Is it that one +recoils from making so many new Acquaintances in Novels, and retreats +upon one's Old Friends, in Shakespeare, Cervantes, and Sir Walter? Oh, I +read the last as you have lately been reading--the Scotch Novels, I mean: +I believe I should not care for the Ivanhoes, Kenilworths, etc., any +more. But Jeanie Deans, the Antiquary, etc., I shall be theirs as long +as I am yours sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +VII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _August_ 9, [1872]. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I think I shall hear from you once again before you go abroad. To Rome! +My Brother Peter also is going to winter there: but you would not have +much in common with him, I think, so I say nothing of an Acquaintance +between you. + +I have been having Frederick Tennyson with me down here. {16a} He has +come to England (from Jersey where his home now is) partly on Business, +and partly to bring over a deaf old Gentleman who has discovered the +Original Mystery of Free-masonry, by means of Spiritualism. The +Freemasons have for Ages been ignorant, it seems, of the very Secret +which all their Emblems and Signs refer to: and the question is, if they +care enough for their own Mystery to buy it of this ancient Gentleman. If +they do not, he will shame them by Publishing it to all the world. +Frederick Tennyson, who has long been a Swedenborgian, a Spiritualist, +and is now even himself a Medium, is quite grand and sincere in this as +in all else: with the Faith of a Gigantic Child--pathetic and yet +humorous to consider and consort with. + +I went to Sydenham for two days to visit the Brother I began telling you +of: and, at a hasty visit to the Royal Academy, caught a glimpse of Annie +Thackeray: {16b} who had first caught a glimpse of me, and ran away from +her Party to seize the hands of her Father's old friend. I did not know +her at first: was half overset by her cordial welcome when she told me +who she was; and made a blundering business of it altogether. So much +so, that I could not but write afterwards to apologize to her: and she +returned as kind an Answer as she had given a Greeting: telling me that +my chance Apparition had been to her as 'A message from Papa.' It was +really something to have been of so much importance. + +I keep intending to go out somewhere--if for no other reason than that my +rooms here may be cleaned! which they will have it should be done once a +year. Perhaps I may have to go to my old Field of Naseby, where Carlyle +wants me to erect a Stone over the spot where I dug up some remains of +those who were slain there over two hundred years ago, for the purpose of +satisfying him in his Cromwell History. This has been a fixed purpose of +his these twenty years: I thought it had dropped from his head: but it +cropped up again this Spring, and I do not like to neglect such wishes. +Ever yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +VIII. + + +_April_ 22, [1873.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +One last word about what you call my 'Half-invitation' to Woodbridge. In +one sense it is so; but not in the sense you imagine. + +I never do invite any of my oldest Friends to come and see me, am almost +distressed at their proposing to do so. If they take me in their way to, +or from, elsewhere (as Donne in his Norfolk Circuit) it is another +matter. + +But I have built a pleasant house just outside the Town, where I never +live myself, but keep it mainly for some Nieces who come there for two or +three months in the Summer: and, when they are not there, for any Friends +who like to come, for the Benefit of fresh Air and Verdure, _plus_ the +company of their Host. An Artist and his Wife have stayed there for some +weeks for the last two years; and Donne and Valentia were to have come, +but that they went abroad instead. + +And so, while I should even deprecate a Lady like you coming thus far +only for my sake, who ought rather to go and ask Admission at your Door, +I should be glad if you liked to come to my house for the double purpose +aforesaid. + +My Nieces have hitherto come to me from July to September or October. +Since I wrote to you, they have proposed to come on May 21; though it may +be somewhat later, as suits the health of the Invalid--who lives on small +means with her elder Sister, who is her Guardian Angel. I am sure that +no friend of mine--and least of all you--would dissent from my making +them my first consideration. I never ask them in Winter, when I think +they are better in a Town: which Town has, since their Father's Death, +been Lowestoft, where I see them from time to time. Their other six +sisters (one only married) live elsewhere: all loving one another, +notwithstanding. + +Well: I have told you all I meant by my 'Half-Invitation.' These N.E. +winds are less inviting than I to these parts; but I and my House would +be very glad to entertain you to our best up to the End of May, if you +really liked to see Woodbridge as well as yours always truly + +E. F.G. + +P.S.--You tell me that, once returned to America, you think you will not +return ever again to England. But you will--if only to revisit those at +Kenilworth--yes, and the blind Lady you are soon going to see in Ireland +{19a}--and two or three more in England beside--yes, and old England +itself, 'with all her faults.' + +By the by:--Some while ago {19b} Carlyle sent me a Letter from an +American gentleman named Norton (once of the N. American Review, C. says, +and a most amiable, intelligent Gentleman)--whose Letter enclosed one +from Ruskin, which had been entrusted to another American Gentleman named +Burne Jones--who kept it in a Desk ten years, and at last forwarded it as +aforesaid--to me! The Note (of Ruskin's) is about one of the Persian +Translations: almost childish, as that Man of Genius is apt to be in his +Likes as well as Dislikes. I dare say he has forgotten all about +Translator and Original long before this. I wrote to thank Mr. Norton +for + +(_Letter unfinished_.) + + + + +IX. + + +[1873.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +It is scarce fair to assail you on your return to England with another +Letter so close on that to which you have only just answered--you who +_will_ answer! I wish you would consider this Letter of mine an Answer +(as it really is) to that last of yours; and before long I will write +again and call on you then for a Reply. + +What inspires me now is, that, about the time you were writing to me +about Burns and Beranger, I was thinking of them 'which was the Greater +Genius?'--I can't say; but, with all my Admiration for about a Score of +the Frenchman's almost perfect Songs, I would give all of them up for a +Score of Burns' Couplets, Stanzas, or single Lines scattered among those +quite _im_perfect Lyrics of his. Beranger, no doubt, was The _Artist_; +which still is not the highest Genius--witness Shakespeare, Dante, +AEschylus, Calderon, to the contrary. Burns assuredly had more _Passion_ +than the Frenchman; which is not Genius either, but a great Part of the +Lyric Poet still. What Beranger might have been, if born and bred among +Banks, Braes, and Mountains, I cannot tell: Burns had that advantage over +him. And then the Highland Mary to love, amid the heather, as compared +to Lise the Grisette in a Parisian Suburb! Some of the old French +Virelays and _Vaux-de-vire_ come much nearer the Wild Notes of Burns, and +go to one's heart like his; Beranger never gets so far as that, I think. +One knows he will come round to his pretty _refrain_ with perfect grace; +if he were more Inspired he couldn't. + + 'My Love is like the red, red, Rose + That's newly sprung in June, + My Love is like the Melody + That's sweetly play'd in tune.' + +and he will love his Love, + + 'Till a' the Seas gang Dry' + +Yes--Till a' the Seas gang dry, my Dear. And then comes some weaker +stuff about Rocks melting in the Sun. All Imperfect; but that red, red +Rose has burned itself into one's silly Soul in spite of all. Do you +know that one of Burns' few almost perfect stanzas was perfect till he +added two Syllables to each alternate Line to fit it to the lovely Music +which almost excuses such a dilution of the Verse? + + 'Ye Banks and Braes o' bonnie Doon, + How can ye bloom (so fresh) so fair? + Ye little Birds how can ye sing, + And I so (weary) full of care! + Thou'lt break my heart, thou little Bird, + That sings (singest so) upon the Thorn: + Thou minds me of departed days + That never shall return + (Departed never to) return.' + +Now I shall tell you two things which my last Quotation has recalled to +me. + +Some thirty years ago A. Tennyson went over Burns' Ground in Dumfries. +When he was one day by Doon-side--'I can't tell how it was, Fitz, but I +fell into a Passion of Tears'--And A. T. not given to the melting mood at +all. + +No. 2. My friend old Childs of the romantic town of Bungay (if you can +believe in it!) told me that one day he started outside the Coach in +company with a poor Woman who had just lost Husband or Child. She talked +of her Loss and Sorrow with some Resignation; till the Coach happened to +pull up by a roadside Inn. A 'little Bird' was singing somewhere; the +poor Woman then broke into Tears, and said--'I could bear anything but +that.' I dare say she had never even heard of Burns: but he had heard +the little Bird that he knew would go to all Hearts in Sorrow. + +Beranger's Morals are Virtue as compared to what have followed him in +France. Yet I am afraid he partly led the way. Burns' very _Passion_ +half excused him; so far from its being Refinement which Burke thought +deprived Vice of half its Mischief! + +Here is a Sermon for you, you see, which you did not compound for: nor I +neither when I began my Letter. But I think I have told you the two +Stories aforesaid which will almost deprive my sermon of half its +Dulness. And I am now going to transcribe you a _Vau-de-vire_ of old +Olivier de Basselin, {23a} which will show you something of that which I +miss in Beranger. But I think I had better write it on a separate Paper. +Till which, what think you of these lines of Clement Marot on the Death +of some French Princess who desired to be buried among the Poor? {23b} + +[P.S.--These also must go on the Fly-leaf: being too long, Alexandrine, +for these Pages.] + +What a Letter! But if you are still at your Vicarage, you can read it in +the Intervals of Church. I was surprised at your coming so early from +Italy: the famous Holy Week there is now, I suppose, somewhat shorn of +its Glory.--If you were not so sincere I should think you were +persiflaging me about the Photo, as applied to myself, and yourself. Some +years ago I said--and now say--I wanted one of you; and if this letter +were not so long, would tell you a little how to sit. Which you would +not attend to; but I should be all the same, your long-winded + +Friend +E. F.G. + + + + +X. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _May_ 1, [1873.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I am very glad that you will be Photographed: though not by the Ipswich +Man who did me, there are no doubt many much better in London. + +Of course the whole Figure is best, if it can be artistically arranged. +But certainly the safe plan is to venture as little as possible when an +Artist's hand cannot harmonize the Lines and the Lights, as in a Picture. +And as the Face is the Chief Object, I say the safest thing is to sit for +the Face, neck, and Shoulders only. By this, one not only avoids any +conflict about Arms and Hands (which generally disturb the Photo), but +also the Lines and Lights of Chair, Table, etc. + +For the same reason, I vote for nothing but a plain Background, like a +Curtain, or sober-coloured Wall. + +I think also that there should be no White in the Dress, which is apt to +be too positive for the Face. Nothing nearer White than such material as +(I think) Brussels Lace (?) of a yellowish or even dirty hue; of which +there may be a Fringe between Dress and Skin. I have advised Men Friends +to sit in a--dirty Shirt! + +I think a three-quarter face is better that a Full; for one reason, that +I think the Sitter feels more at ease looking somewhat away, rather than +direct at the luminous Machine. This will suit you, who have a finely +turned Head, which is finely placed on Neck and Shoulders. But, as your +Eyes are fine also, don't let them be turned too much aside, nor at all +downcast: but simply looking as to a Door or Window a little on one side. + +Lastly (!) I advise sitting in a lightly clouded Day; not in a bright +Sunlight at all. + +You will think that I am preaching my own Photo to you. And it is true +that, though I did not sit with any one of these rules in my head; but +just as I got out of a Cab, etc., yet the success of the Thing made me +consider afterward why it succeeded; and I have now read you my Lecture +on the Subject. Pray do not forgo your Intention--nay, your Promise, as +I regard it--to sit, and send me the result. {25} + +Here has been a bevy of Letters, and long ones, from me, you see. I +don't know if it is reasonable that one should feel it so much easier to +write to a Friend in England than to the same Friend abroad; but so it +is, with me at least. I suppose that a Letter directed to Stoneleigh +will find you before you leave--for America!--and even after that. But I +shall not feel the same confidence and ease in transcribing for you +pretty Norman Songs, or gossiping about them as I have done when my +Letters were only to travel to Kenilworth: which very place--which very +name of a Place--makes the English world akin. I suppose you have been +at Stratford before this--an event in one's Life. It was not the Town +itself--or even the Church--that touched me most: but the old Footpaths +over the Fields which He must have crossed three Centuries ago. + +Spedding tells me he is nearing Land with his Bacon. And one begins to +think Macready a Great Man amid the Dwarfs that now occupy his Place. + +Ever yours sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +XI. + + +_September_ 18/73. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I have not forgotten you at all, all these months--What a Consolation to +you! But I felt I had nothing to send among the Alps after you: I have +been nowhere but for two Days to the Field of Naseby in Northamptonshire, +where I went to identify the spot where I dug up the Dead for Carlyle +thirty years ago. I went; saw; made sure; and now--the Trustees of the +Estate won't let us put up the Memorial stone we proposed to put up; they +approve (we hear) neither of the Stone, nor the Inscription; both as +plain and innocent as a Milestone, says Carlyle, and indeed much of the +same Nature. This Decision of the foolish Trustees I only had some ten +days ago: posted it to Carlyle who answered from Dumfries; and his Answer +shows that he is in full vigour, though (as ever since I have known him) +he protests that Travelling has utterly discomfited him, and he will move +no more. But it is very silly of these Trustees. {28a} + +And, as I have been nowhere, I have seen no one; nor read anything but +the Tichborne Trial, and some of my old Books--among them Walpole, +Wesley, and Johnson (Boswell, I mean), three very different men whose +Lives extend over the same times, and whose diverse ways of looking at +the world they lived in make a curious study. I wish some one would +write a good Paper on this subject; I don't mean to hint that I am the +man; on the contrary, I couldn't at all; but I could supply some [one] +else with some material that he would not care to hunt up in the Books +perhaps. + +Well: all this being all, I had no heart to write--to the Alps! And now +I remember well you told me you [were] coming back to England--for a +little while--a little while--and then to the New World for ever--which I +don't believe! {28b} Oh no! you will come back in spite of yourself, +depend upon it--and yet I doubt that my saying so will be one little +reason why you will not! But do let me hear of you first: and believe me +ever yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +XII. + + +[WOODBRIDGE, 1873.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +You must attribute this third Letter to an '_Idee_' that has come into my +head relating to those Memoirs of yourself which you say you are at some +loss to dispose of. I can easily understand that your Children, born and +bred (I think) in another World, would not take so much interest in them +as some of your old Friends who make part of your Recollections: as you +yourself occupy much of theirs. But then they are _old_ Friends; and are +not their Children, Executors and Assigns, as little to be depended on as +your own Kith and Kin? Well; I bethink me of one of your old Friends' +Children whom I could reckon upon for you, as I would for myself: Mowbray +Donne: the Son of one who you know loves you of old, and inheriting all +his Father's Loyalty to his Father's Friends. I am quite convinced that +he is to be perfectly depended upon in all respects for this purpose; for +his Love, his Honour, and his Intelligence. I should then make him one +day read the Memoirs to me--for I can't be assured of my own Eyes +interpreting your MS. without so much difficulty as would disturb one's +Enjoyment, or Appreciation, of such a Memoir. Unless indeed you should +one day come down yourself to my Chateau in dull Woodbridge, and there +read it over, and talk it over. + +Well; this is what I seriously advise, always supposing that you have +decided not to print and publish the Memoir during your Life. No doubt +you could make money of it, beside 'bolting up' {30} such Accident as the +Future comprehends. The latter would, I know, be the only recommendation +to you. + +I don't think you will do at all as I advise you. But I nevertheless +advise you as I should myself in case I had such a Record as you have to +leave behind me.-- + +Now once more for French Songs. When I was in Paris in 1830, just before +that Revolution, I stopped one Evening on the Boulevards by the Madeleine +to listen to a Man who was singing to his Barrel-organ. Several passing +'Blouses' had stopped also: not only to listen, but to join in the Songs, +having bought little '_Libretti_' of the words from the Musician. I +bought one too; for, I suppose, the smallest French Coin; and assisted in +the Song which the Man called out beforehand (as they do Hymns at +Church), and of which I enclose you the poor little Copy. '_Le Bon +Pasteur_, s'il vous plait'--I suppose the Circumstances: the 'beau +temps,' the pleasant Boulevards, the then so amiable People, all +contributed to the effect this Song had upon me; anyhow, it has +constantly revisited my memory for these forty-three years; and I was +thinking, the other day, touched me more than any of Beranger's most +beautiful Things. This, however, may be only one of 'Old Fitz's' +Crotchets, as Tennyson and others would call them. {31} + +I have been trying again at another Great _Artist's_ work which I never +could care for at all, Goethe's _Faust_, in Hayward's Prose Translation; +Eighth Edition. Hayward quotes from Goethe himself, that, though of +course much of a Poem must evaporate in a Prose Translation, yet the +Essence must remain. Well; I distinguish as little of that Essential +Poetry in the Faust now as when I first read it--longer ago than '_Le Bon +Pasteur_,' and in other subsequent Attempts. I was tempted to think this +was some Defect--great Defect--in myself: but a Note at the end of the +Volume informs me that a much greater Wit than I was in the same +plight--even Coleridge; who admires the perfect German Diction, the +Songs, Choruses, etc. (which are such parts as cannot be translated into +Prose); he also praises Margaret and Mephistopheles; but thinks Faust +himself dull, and great part of the Drama flat and tiresome; and the +whole Thing not a self-evolving Whole, but an unconnected Series of +Scenes: all which are parts that can be judged of from Translation, by +Goethe's own Authority. I find a great want of Invention and Imagination +both in the Events and Characters. + +Gervinus' Theory of Hamlet is very staking. Perhaps Shakespeare himself +would have admitted, without ever having expressly designed, it. I +always said with regard to the Explanation of Hamlet's Madness or Sanity, +that Shakespeare himself might not have known the Truth any more than we +understand the seeming Discords we see in People we know best. +Shakespeare intuitively imagined, and portrayed, the Man without being +able to give a reason--_perhaps_--I believe in Genius doing this: and +remain your Inexhaustible Correspondent + +E. F.G. + +Excuse this very bad writing, which I have gone over 'with the pen of +Correction,' and would have wholly re-written if my Eyes were not +be-glared with the Sun on the River. You need only read the first part +about Donne. + + + + +XIII. + + +[1873.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Had you but written your Dublin Address in full, I should have caught you +before you left. As you did not, I follow your Directions, and enclose +to Coutts. + +You see which of the three Photos I prefer--and very much prefer--by the +two which I return: I am very much obliged to you indeed for taking all +the Trouble; and the Photo I have retained is very satisfactory to me in +every respect: as I believe you will find it to be to such other Friends +as you would give a Copy to. I can fancy that this Photo is a fair one; +I mean, a fair Likeness: one of the full Faces was nearly as good to me, +but for the darkness of the Lips--that common default in these things--but +the other dark Fullface is very unfair indeed. You must give Copies to +dear old Donne, and to one or two others, and I should like to hear from +you [before you] leave England which they prefer. + +It was indeed so unlike your obstinate habit of Reply--this last +exception--that I thought you must be ill; and I was really thinking of +writing to Mr. Leigh to ask about you--I have been ailing myself with +some form of Rheumatism--whether Lumbago, Sciatica, or what not--which +has made my rising up and sitting down especially uncomfortable; Country +Doctor quite incompetent, etc. But the Heavenly Doctor, Phoebus, seems +more efficient--especially now he has brought the Wind out of N.E. + +I had meant to send you the Air of the Bon Pasteur when I sent the words: +I never heard it but that once, but I find that the version you send me +is almost identical with my Recollection of it. There is little merit in +the Tune, except the pleasant resort to the Major at the two last Verses. +I can now hear the Organist's _burr_ at the closing 'Benira.' + +I happened the other day on some poor little Verses {34a} which poor +Haydon found of his poor Wife's writing in the midst of the Distress from +which he extricated himself so suddenly. And I felt how these poor +Verses touched me far more than any of Beranger's--though scarcely more +than many of Burns'. I know that the Story which they involve appeals +more to one's heart than the Frenchman does; but I am also sure that his +perfect _Art_ injures, and not assists, the utterance of Nature. I +transcribe these poor Verses for you, as you may not have the Book at +hand, and yet I think you will thank me for recalling them to you. I +find them in a MS. Book I have which I call 'Half Hours with the Worst +Authors,' {34b} and if People would believe that I know what is good for +them in these matters, the Book would make a very good one for the +Public. But if People don't see as I do by themselves, they wouldn't any +the more for my telling them, not having any Name to bid their Attention. +So my Bad Authors must be left to my Heirs and Assigns; as your Good +Memoirs! + +On second Thoughts, I shall (in spite of your Directions) keep two of the +Photos: returning you only the hateful dark one. That is, I shall keep +the twain, unless you desire me to return you one of them. Anyhow, do +write to me before you go quite away, and believe me always yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +XIV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Novr._ 18/73. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I should have written to you before, but that I was waiting for some +account, for better or worse, of our friend Donne; who has been seriously +ill this Fortnight and more. I don't know what his original Ailment was, +unless a Cold; but the Effect has been to leave him so weak, that even +now the Doctor fears for any Relapse which he might not be strong enough +to bear. He had been for a Visit to friends in the West of England: and +became ill directly he returned to London. You may think it odd I don't +know what was his Illness; but Mowbray, who has told me all I know, did +not tell me that: and so I did not ask, as I could do no good by knowing. +Perhaps it is simply a Decay, or Collapse, of Body, or Nerves--or even +Mind:--a Catastrophe which I never thought unlikely with Donne, who has +toiled and suffered so much, for others rather than for himself; and +keeping all his Suffering to himself. He wrote me a letter about himself +a week ago; cheerful, and telling me of Books he read: so as no one would +guess he was so ill; but a Letter from Mowbray by the same Post told me +he was still in a precarious Condition. I had wished to tell you that he +was better, if not well: but I may wait some time for that: and so I will +write now:--with the Promise that I will write again directly there is +anything else to tell. + +Here my Reader comes to give me an Instalment of Tichborne: so I shall +shut up, perhaps till To-morrow. + +The Lord Chief Justice and Co. have just decided to adjourn the Trial for +ten Days, till Witnesses arrive from your side of the Atlantic. My +Reader has just adjourned to some Cake and Porter--I tell him not to +hurry--while I go on with this Letter. To tell you that, I might almost +have well adjourned writing 'sine die' (can you construe?), for I don't +think I have more to tell you now. Only that I am reading--Crabbe! And +I want you to tell me if he is read on that side of the Atlantic from +which we are expecting Tichborne Witnesses. + +(Reader finishes Cake and Porter: and we now adjourn to 'All the Year +Round.') + +10 p.m. 'All the Year Round' read--part of it--and Reader departed. + +Pray do tell me if any one reads Crabbe in America; nobody does here, you +know, but myself; who bore about it. Does Mrs. Wister, who reads many +things? Does Mrs. Kemble, now she has the Atlantic between her and the +old Country? + + 'Over the Forth I look to the North, + But what is the North and its Hielands to me? + The North and the East gie small ease to my breast, + The far foreign land and the wide rolling Sea.' {37} + +I think that last line will bring the Tears into Mrs. Kemble's Eyes--which +I can't find in the Photograph she sent me. Yet they are not +extinguisht, surely? + +I read in some Athenaeum that A. Tennyson was changing his Publisher +again: and some one told me that it was in consequence of the resigning +Publisher having lost money by his contract with the Poet; which was, to +pay him 1000 pounds per Quarter for the exclusive sale of his Poems. It +was a Woodbridge _Literati_ who told me this, having read it in a Paper +called 'The Publisher.' More I know not. + +A little more such stuff I might write: but I think here is enough of it. +For this Night, anyhow: so I shall lick the Ink from my Pen; and smoke +one Pipe, not forgetting you while I do so; and if nothing turns up To- +morrow, here is my Letter done, and I remaining yours always sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +XV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Nov._ 24, [1873]. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +A note from Mowbray to-day says 'I think I can report the Father really +on the road to recovery.' + +So, as I think you will be as glad to know this as I am, I write again +over the Atlantic. And, after all, you mayn't be over the Atlantic, but +in London itself! Donne would have told me: but I don't like to trouble +him with Questions, or writing of any sort. If you be in London, you +will hear somehow of all this matter: if in America, my Letter won't go +in vain. + +Mowbray wrote me some while ago of the Death of your Sister's Son in the +Hunting-field. {38} Mowbray said, aged thirty, I think: I had no idea, +so old: born when I was with Thackeray in Coram Street--(_Jorum_ Street, +he called it) where I remember Mrs. Sartoris coming in her Brougham to +bid him to Dinner, 1843. + +I wrote to Annie Thackeray yesterday: politely telling her I couldn't +relish her Old Kensington a quarter as much as her Village on the Cliff: +which, however, I doat on. I still purpose to read Miss Evans: but my +Instincts are against her--I mean, her Books. + +What have you done with your Memoirs? Pollock is about to edit +Macready's. And Chorley--have you read him? I shall devour him in +time--that is, when Mudie will let me. + +I wonder if there are Water-cresses in America, as there are on my tea- +table while I write? + +What do you think of these two lines which Crabbe didn't print? + + 'The shapeless purpose of a Soul that feels, + And half suppresses Wrath, {39} and half reveals.' + +My little bit of Good News about our Friend is the only reason and +Apology for this Letter from + +Yours ever and always +E. F.G. + + + + +XVI. + + +LOWESTOFT: _Febr._ 10/74. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +A Letter to be written to you from the room I have written to you before +in: but my Letter must wait till I return to Woodbridge, where your +Address is on record. I have thought several times of writing to you +since this Year began; but I have been in a muddle--leaving my old +Markethill Lodgings, and vacillating between my own rather lonely +Chateau, and this Place, where some Nieces are. I had wished to tell you +what I know of our dear Donne: who Mowbray says gets on still. I suppose +he will never be so strong again. Laurence wrote me that he had met him +in the Streets, looking thinner (!) with (as it were) keener Eyes. That +is a Portrait Painter's observation: probably a just one. Laurence has +been painting for me a Copy of Pickersgill's Portrait of Crabbe--but I am +afraid has made some muddle of it, according to his wont. I asked for a +Sketch: he _will_ elaborate--and spoil. Instead of copying the Colours +he sees and could simply match on his Palette, he _will_ puzzle himself +as to whether the Eyebrows were once sandy, though now gray; and wants to +compare Pickersgill's Portrait with Phillips'--which I particularly +wished to be left out of account. Laurence is a dear little fellow--a +Gentleman--Spedding said, 'made of Nature's very finest Clay.' {40} So +he is: but the most obstinate little man--'incorrigible,' Richmond called +him; and so he wearies out those who wish most to serve and employ him; +and so has spoiled his own Fortune. + +Do you read in America of Holman Hunt's famous new Picture of 'The Shadow +of Death,' which he has been some seven Years painting--in Jerusalem, and +now exhibits under theatrical Lights and accompaniments? This does not +induce me to believe in H. Hunt more than heretofore: which is--not at +all. Raffaelle, Mozart, Shakespeare, did not take all that time about a +work, nor brought it forth to the world with so much Pomp and +Circumstance. + +Do you know Sainte Beuve's Causeries? I think one of the most delightful +Books--a Volume of which I brought here, and makes me now write of it to +you. It is a Book worth having--worth buying--for you can read it more +than once, and twice. And I have taken up Don Quixote again: more +Evergreen still; in Spanish, as it must be read, I doubt. + +Here is a Sheet of Paper already filled, with matters very little worthy +of sending over the Atlantic. But you will be glad of the Donne news, at +any rate. Do tell me ever so little of yourself in return. + +Now my Eyes have had enough of this vile steel pen; and so have yours, I +should think: and I will mix a Glass of poor Sherry and Water, and fill a +Pipe, and think of you while I smoke it. Think of me sometimes as + +Yours always sincerely, +E. F.G. + +P.S. I shall venture this Letter with no further Address than I remember +now. + + + + +XVII. + + +LITTLE GRANGE: WOODBRIDGE, _May_ 2/74. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +My Castle Clock has gone 9 p.m., and I myself am but half an hour home +from a Day to Lowestoft. Why I should begin a Letter to you under these +circumstances I scarce know. However, I have long been intending to +write: nay, actually did write half a Letter which I mislaid. What I +wanted to tell you was--and is--that Donne is going on very well: Mowbray +thinks he may be pronounced 'recovered.' You may have heard about him +from some other hand before this: I know you will be glad to hear it at +any time, from any quarter. + +This my Castle had been named by me 'Grange Farm,' being formerly a +dependency of a more considerable Chateau on the hill above. But a fine +tall Woman, who has been staying two days, ordered me to call it 'Little +Grange.' So it must be. She came to meet a little Niece of mine: both +Annies: one tall as the other is short: both capital in Head and Heart: I +knew they would _fadge_ well: so they did: so we all did, waiting on +ourselves and on one another. Odd that I have another tip-top Annie on +my small list of Acquaintances--Annie Thackeray. + +I wonder what Spring is like in America. We have had an April of really +'magnifique' Weather: but here is that vixen May with its N.E. airs. A +Nightingale however sings so close to my Bedroom that (the window being +open) the Song is almost too loud. + +I thought you would come back to Nightingale-land! + +Donne is better: and Spedding has at last (I hear) got his load of Bacon +off his Shoulders, after carrying it for near Forty years! Forty years +long! A fortnight ago there was such a delicious bit of his in Notes and +Queries, {42} a Comment on some American Comment on a passage in Antony +and Cleopatra, that I recalled my old Sorrow that he had not edited +Shakespeare long ago instead of wasting Life in washing his Blackamoor. +Perhaps there is time for this yet: but is there the Will? + +Pray, Madam, how do you emphasize the line-- + + 'After Life's fitful Fever he sleeps well,' + +which, by the by, one wonders never to have seen in some Churchyard? What +do you think of this for an Epitaph--from Crabbe?-- + + 'Friend of the Poor--the Wretched--the Betray'd, + They cannot pay thee--but thou shalt be paid.' {43} + +This is a poor Letter indeed to make you answer--as answer you will--I +really only intended to tell you of Donne; and remain ever yours + +E. F.G. + +Pollock is busy editing Macready's Papers. + + + + +XVIII. + + +LOWESTOFT: _June_ 2/74. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Many a time have I written to you from this place: which may be the +reason why I write again now--the very day your Letter reaches me--for I +don't know that I have much to say, nor anything worth forcing from you +the Answer that you will write. Let me look at your Letter again. Yes: +so I thought of '_he_ sleeps well,' and yet I do not remember to have +heard it so read. (I never heard you read the Play) I don't think +Macready read it so. I liked his Macbeth, I must say: only he would say +'Amen st-u-u-u-ck in his throat,' which was not only a blunder, but a +vulgar blunder, I think. + +Spedding--I should think indeed it was too late for him to edit +Shakespeare, if he had not gone on doing so, as it were, all his Life. +Perhaps it is too late for him to remember half, or a quarter, of his own +Observations. Well then: I wish he would record what he does remember: +if not an Edition of Shakespeare yet so many Notes toward an Edition. I +am persuaded that no one is more competent. {45a} + +You see your Americans will go too far. It was some American Professor's +Note {45b} on 'the Autumn of his Bounty' which occasioned Spedding's +delightful Comment some while ago, and made me remember my old wish that +he should do the thing. But he will not: especially if one asks him. + +Donne--Archdeacon Groome told me a Fortnight ago that he had been at +Weymouth Street. Donne better, but still not his former Self. + +By the by, I have got a Skeleton of my own at last: Bronchitis--which +came on me a month ago--which I let go on for near three weeks--then was +forced to call in a Doctor to subdue, who kept me a week indoors. And +now I am told that, every Cold I catch, my Skeleton is to come out, etc. +Every N.E. wind that blows, etc. I had not been shut up indoors for some +fifty-five years--since Measles at school--but I had green before my +Windows, and Don Quixote for Company within. _Que voulez-vous_? + +Shakespeare again. A Doctor Whalley, who wrote a Tragedy for Mrs. +Siddons (which she declined), proposed to her that she should read--'But +screw your Courage to the _sticking place_,' with the appropriate action +of using the Dagger. I think Mrs. Siddons good-naturedly admits there +may be something in the suggestion. One reads this in the last memoir of +Madame Piozzi, edited by Mr. Hayward. + +_Blackbird_ v. _Nightingale_. I have always loved the first best: as +being so jolly, and the Note so proper from that golden Bill of his. But +one does not like to go against received opinion. Your _Oriole_ has been +seen in these parts by old--very old--people: at least, a gay bird so +named. But no one ever pretends to see him now. + +Now have you perversely crossed the Address which you desire me to abide +by: and I can't be sure of your 'Branchtown'? But I suppose that enough +is clear to make my Letter reach you if it once gets across the Atlantic. +And now this uncertainty about your writing recalls to me--very +absurdly--an absurd Story told me by a pious, but humorous, man, which +will please you if you don't know it already. + +_Scene_.--Country Church on Winter's Evening. Congregation, with the Old +Hundredth ready for the Parson to give out some Dismissal Words. + +_Good old Parson_, not at all meaning rhyme, 'The Light has grown so very +dim, I scarce can see to read the Hymn.' + +_Congregation_, taking it up: to the first half of the Old Hundredth-- + + 'The Light has grown so very dim, + I scarce can see to read the Hymn.' + +(Pause, as usual: _Parson_, mildly impatient) 'I did not mean to read a +Hymn; I only meant my Eyes were dim.' + +_Congregation_, to second part of Old Hundredth:-- + + 'I did not mean to read a Hymn; + I only meant my Eyes were dim.' + +_Parson_, out of Patience, etc.:-- + + 'I didn't mean a Hymn at all,-- + I think the Devil's in you all.' + +I say, if you don't know this, it is worth your knowing, and making known +over the whole Continent of America, North and South. And I am your +trusty and affectionate old Beadsman (left rather deaf with that blessed +Bronchitis) + +E. F.G. + + + + +XIX. + + +LITTLE GRANGE: WOODBRIDGE, _July_ 21, [1874.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I must write to you--for I have seen Donne, and can tell you that he +looks and seems much better than I had expected, though I had been told +to expect well: he was upright, well coloured, animated; I should say +(_sotto voce_) better than he seemed to me two years ago. And this in +spite of the new Lord Chamberlain {48a} having ousted him from his +Theatrical post, wanting a younger and more active man to go and see the +Plays, as well as read them. I do not think this unjust; I was told by +Pollock that the dismissal was rather abrupt: but Donne did not complain +of it. When does he complain? He will now, however, leave Weymouth +Street, and inhabit some less costly house--not wanting indeed so large +[a] one for his present household. He is shortly going with his +Daughters to join the Blakesleys at Whitby. Mowbray was going off for +his Holiday to Cornwall: I just heard him speaking of Freddy's present +Address to his father: Blanche was much stronger, from the treatment of a +Dr. Beard {48b} (I think). I was quite moved by her warm salutation when +I met her, after some fifteen years' absence. All this I report from a +Visit I made to Donne's own house in London. A thing I scarce ever +thought to do again, you may know: but I could not bear to be close to +him in London for two days without assuring myself with my own Eyes how +he looked. I think I observed a slight hesitation of memory: but +certainly not so much as I find in myself, nor, I suppose, unusual in +one's Contemporaries. My visit to London followed a visit to Edinburgh: +which I have intended these thirty years, only for the purpose of seeing +my dear Sir Walter's House and Home: and which I am glad to have seen, as +that of Shakespeare. I had expected to find a rather Cockney Castle: but +no such thing: all substantially and proportionably built, according to +the Style of the Country: the Grounds well and simply laid out: the woods +he planted well-grown, and that dear Tweed running and murmuring still--as +on the day of his Death. {49a} I did not so much care for Melrose, and +Jedburgh, {49b} though his Tomb is there--in one of the half-ruined +corners. Another day I went to Trossachs, Katrine, Lomond, etc., which +(as I expected) seemed much better to me in Pictures and Drop-scenes. I +was but three days in Scotland, and was glad to get back to my own dull +flat country, though I did worship the Pentland, Cheviot, and Eildon, +Hills, more for their Associations than themselves. They are not big +enough for that. + +I saw little in London: the Academy Pictures even below the average, I +thought: only a Picture by Millais of an old Sea Captain {49c} being read +to by his Daughter which moistened my Eyes. I thought she was reading +him the Bible, which he seemed half listening to, half rambling over his +past Life: but I am told (I had no Catalogue) that she was reading about +the North West Passage. There were three deep of Bonnets before Miss +Thompson's famous Roll Call of the Guards in the Crimea; so I did not +wait till they fell away. {50a} + +Yours always + +E. F.G. + + + + +XX. + + +LOWESTOFT: _Aug._ 24, [1874.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Your letter reached me this morning: and you see I lose no time in +telling you that, as I hear from Pollock, Donne is allowed 350 pounds a +year retiring Pension. So I think neither he nor his friends have any +reason to complain. His successor in the office is named (I think) +'Piggott' {50b}--Pollock thinks a good choice. Lord Hertford brought the +old and the new Examiners together to Dinner: and all went off well. +Perhaps Donne himself may have told you all this before now. He was to +be, about this time, with the Blakesleys at Whitby or Filey. I have not +heard any of these particulars from himself: nothing indeed since I saw +him in London. + +Pollock was puzzled by an entry in Macready's Journal--1831 or +1832--'Received Thackeray's Tragedy' with some such name as +'Retribution.' I told Pollock I was sure it was not W. M. T., who +(especially at that time) had more turn to burlesque than real Tragedy: +and sure that he would have told me of it then, whether accepted or +rejected--as rejected it was. Pollock thought for some while that, in +spite of the comic Appearance we keep up, we should each of us rise up +from the Grave with a MS. Tragedy in our hands, etc. However, he has +become assured it was some other Thackeray: I suppose one mentioned by +Planche as a Dramatic _Dilettante_--of the same Family, I think, as W. M. +T. + +Spedding has sent me the concluding Volume of his Bacon: the final +summing up simple, noble, deeply pathetic--rather on Spedding's own +Account than his Hero's, for whose Vindication so little has been done by +the sacrifice of forty years of such a Life as Spedding's. Positively, +nearly all the new matter which S. has produced makes against, rather +than for, Bacon: and I do think the case would have stood better if +Spedding had only argued from the old materials, and summed up his +Vindication in one small Volume some thirty-five years ago. + +I have been sunning myself in Dickens--even in his later and very +inferior 'Mutual Friend,' and 'Great Expectations'--Very inferior to his +best: but with things better than any one else's best, caricature as they +may be. I really must go and worship at Gadshill, as I have worshipped +at Abbotsford, though with less Reverence, to be sure. But I must look +on Dickens as a mighty Benefactor to Mankind. {52} + +This is shamefully bad writing of mine--very bad manners, to put any +one--especially a Lady--to the trouble and pain of deciphering. I hope +all about Donne is legible, for you will be glad of it. It is Lodging- +house Pens and Ink that is partly to blame for this scrawl. Now, don't +answer till I write you something better: but believe me ever and always +yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +XXI. + + +LOWESTOFT: _October_ 4/74. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Do, pray, write your Macready (Thackeray used to say 'Megreedy') Story to +Pollock: Sir F. 59 Montagu Square. I rather think he was to be going to +Press with his Megreedy about this time: but you may be sure he will deal +with whatever you may confide to him discreetly and reverently. It is +'Miladi' P. who worshipped Macready: and I think I never recovered what +Esteem I had with her when I told her I could not look on him as a +'Great' Actor at all. I see in Planche's Memoirs that when your Father +prophesied great things of him to your Uncle J. P. K., the latter said, +'_Con quello viso_?' which '_viso_' did very well however in parts not +positively heroic. But one can't think of him along with Kean, who was +heroic in spite of undersize. How he swelled up in Othello! I remember +thinking he looked almost as tall as your Father when he came to Silence +that dreadful Bell. + +I think you agree with me about Kean: remembering your really capital +Paper--in _Macmillan_ {53a}--about Dramatic and Theatric. I often look +to that Paper, which is bound up with some Essays by other +Friends--Spedding among them--no bad Company. I was thinking of your +Pasta story of 'feeling' the Antique, etc., {53b} when reading in my dear +Ste. Beuve {53c} of my dear Madame du Deffand asking Madame de Choiseul: +'You _know_ you love me, but do you _feel_ you love me?' '_Quoi_? _vous +m'aimez donc_?' she said to her secretary Wiart, when she heard him +sobbing as she dictated her last letter to Walpole. {53d} + +All which reminds me of one of your friends departed--Chorley--whose +Memoirs one now buys from Mudie for 2_s._ 6_d._ or so. And +well--_well_--worth to those who recollect him. I only knew him by +Face--and Voice--at your Father's, and your Sister's: and used to think +what a little waspish _Dilettante_ it was: and now I see he was something +very much better indeed: and I only hope I may have Courage to face my +Death as he had. Dickens loved him, who did not love Humbugs: and +Chorley would have two strips of Gadshill Yew {54} put with him in his +Coffin. Which again reminds me that--_a propos_ of your comments on +Dickens' crimson waistcoat, etc., Thackeray told me thirty years ago, +that Dickens did it, not from any idea of Cockney fashion: but from a +veritable passion for Colours--which I can well sympathize with, though I +should not exhibit them on my own Person--for very good reasons. Which +again reminds me of what you write about my abiding the sight of you in +case you return to England next year. Oh, my dear Mrs. Kemble, you must +know how wrong all that is--_tout au contraire_, in fact. Tell me a word +about Chorley when next you write: you said once that Mendelssohn laughed +at him: then, he ought not. How well I remember his strumming away at +some Waltz in Harley or Wimpole's endless Street, while your Sister and a +few other Guests went round. I thought then he looked at one as if +thinking 'Do you think me then--a poor, red-headed Amateur, as Rogers +does?' That old Beast! I don't scruple to say so. + +I am positively looking over my everlasting Crabbe again: he naturally +comes in about the Fall of the Year. Do you remember his wonderful +'October Day'? {55} + + 'Before the Autumn closed, + When Nature, ere her Winter Wars, reposed + When from our Garden, as we looked above, + No Cloud was seen; and nothing seem'd to move; + When the wide River was a Silver Sheet, + And upon Ocean slept the unanchor'd fleet: + When the wing'd Insect settled in our Sight, + And waited Wind to recommence her flight.' + +And then, the Lady who believes her young Lover dead, and has vowed +eternal Celibacy, sees him advancing, a portly, well to do, middle aged +man: and swears she won't have him: and does have him, etc. + +Which reminds me that I want you to tell me if people in America read +Crabbe. + +Farewell, dear Mrs. Kemble, for the present: always yours + +E. F.G. + +Have you the Robin in America? One is singing in the little bit Garden +before me now. + + + + +XXII. + + +59 MONTAGU SQUARE, LONDON, W. +5 _Oct._/74. + +MY DEAR FITZ, + +It is very good of Mrs. Kemble to wish to tell me a story about Macready, +and I shall be glad to know it. + +Only--she should know that I am not writing his life--but editing his +autobiographical reminiscences and diaries--and unless the anecdote could +be introduced to explain or illustrate these, it would not be serviceable +for my present purpose. + +But for its own sake and for Macready's I should like to be made +acquainted with it. + +I am making rapid way with the printing--in fact have got to the end of +what will be Vol. I. in slip--so that I hope the work may be out by or +soon after Christmas, if the engravings are also ready by that time. + +It will be, I am sure, most interesting--and will surprise a great many +people who did not at all know what Macready really was. + +You last heard of me at Clovelly--where we spent a delightful month--more +rain than was pleasant--but on the whole charming. I think I told you +that Annie Thackeray was there for a night--and that we bound her over +not to make the reading public too well acquainted with the place, which +would not be good for it. + +Since then--a fortnight at St. Julians--and the same time at Tunbridge +Wells--I coming up to town three times a week-- + + Noctes atque dies patet atri janua Ditis, {56} + +and as there are other points of resemblance--so it is natural that the +Gates of Justice should be open even during the Vacation--just a little +ajar--with somebody to look after it, which somebody it has been my lot +to be this year. + +T. Wells was very pleasant--I like the old-fashioned place--and can +always people the Pantiles (they call it the Parade now) with Dr. Johnson +and the Duchess of Kingston, and the Bishop of Salisbury and the foreign +baron, and the rest. {57a} + +Miladi and Walter are at Paris for a few days. I am keeping house with +Maurice--Yours, W. F. Pk. + +We have J. S.'s {57b} seventh volume--and I am going to read it--but do +not know where he is himself. I have not seen the 'white, round +object--which is the head of him' for some time past--not since--July.-- + + + + +XXIII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Novr._ 17/74. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Your Letter about Megreedy, as Thackeray used to call him, is very +interesting: I mean as connected with your Father also. Megreedy, with +all his flat face, managed to look well as Virginius, didn't he? And, as +I thought, well enough in Macbeth, except where he _would_ stand with his +mouth open (after the Witches had hailed him), till I longed to pitch +something into it out of the Pit, the dear old Pit. How came _he_ to +play Henry IV. instead of your Father, in some Play I remember at C. G., +though I did not see it? How well I remember your Father in Falconbridge +(Young, K. John) as he looked sideway and upward before the Curtain fell +on his Speech. + +Then his Petruchio: I remember his looking up, as the curtain fell at the +end, to where he knew that Henry had taken me--some very upper Box. And +I remember too his standing with his Hunting spear, looking with pleasure +at pretty Miss Foote as Rosalind. He played well what was natural to +him: the gallant easy Gentleman--I thought his Charles Surface rather +cumbrous: but he was no longer young. + +Mrs. Wister quite mistook the aim of my Query about Crabbe: I asked if he +were read in America for the very reason that he is not read in England. +And in the October _Cornhill_ is an Article upon him (I hope not by +Leslie Stephen), so ignorant and self-sufficient that I am more wroth +than ever. The old Story of 'Pope in worsted stockings'--why I could +cite whole Paragraphs of as fine texture as Moliere--incapable of +Epigram, the Jackanapes says of 'our excellent Crabbe'--why I could find +fifty of the very best Epigrams in five minutes. But now do you care for +him? 'Honour bright?' as Sheridan used to say. I don't think I ever +knew a Woman who did like C., except my Mother. What makes People (this +stupid Reviewer among them) talk of worsted Stockings is because of +having read only his earlier works: when he himself talked of his Muse as + + 'Muse of the Mad, the Foolish, and the Poor,' {59a} + +the Borough: Parish Register, etc. But it is his Tales of the Hall which +discover him in silk Stockings; the subjects, the Scenery, the Actors, of +a more Comedy kind: with, I say, Paragraphs, and Pages, of fine Moliere +style--only too often defaced by carelessness, disproportion, and +'longueurs' intolerable. I shall leave my Edition of Tales of the Hall, +made legible by the help of Scissors and Gum, with a word or two of Prose +to bridge over pages of stupid Verse. I don't wish to try and supersede +the Original, but, by the Abstract, to get People to read the whole, and +so learn (as in Clarissa) how to get it all under command. I even wish +that some one in America would undertake to publish--in whole, or part by +part--my 'Readings in Crabbe,' viz., Tales of the Hall: but no one would +let me do the one thing I can do. + +I think you must repent having encouraged such a terrible Correspondent +as myself: you have the remedy in your own hands, you know. I find that +the Bronchitis I had in Spring returns upon me now: so I have to give up +my Night walks, and stalk up and down my own half-lighted Hall (like +Chateaubriand's Father) {59b} till my Reader comes. Ever yours truly + +E. F.G. + +_Novr._ 21. + +I detained this letter till I heard from Donne, who has been at Worthing, +and writes cheerfully. + + + + +XXIV. + + +LOWESTOFT, _Febr._ 11/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Will you please to thank Mr. Furness for the trouble he has taken about +Crabbe. The American Publisher is like the English, it appears, and both +may be quite right. They certainly are right in not accepting anything +except on very good recommendation; and a Man's Fame is the best they can +have for that purpose. I should not in the least be vext or even +disappointed at any rejection of my Crabbe, but it is not worth further +trouble to any party to send across the Atlantic what may, most probably, +be returned with thanks and Compliments. And then Mr. Furness would feel +bound to ask some other Publisher, and you to write to me about it. No, +no! Thank him, if you please: you know I thank you: and then I will let +the matter drop. + +The Athenaeum told me there was a Paper by Carlyle in the January +Fraser--on the old Norway Kings. Then People said it was not his: but +his it is, surely enough (though I have no Authority but my own Judgment +for saying so), and quite delightful. If missing something of his Prime, +missing also all his former 'Sound and Fury,' etc., and as alive as ever. +I had thoughts of writing to him on the subject, but have not yet done +so. But pray do you read the Papers: there is a continuation in the +February Fraser: and 'to be continued' till ended, I suppose. + +Your Photograph--Yes--I saw your Mother in it, as I saw her in you when +you came to us in Woodbridge in 1852. That is, I saw her such as I had +seen her in a little sixpenny Engraving in a 'Cottage Bonnet,' something +such as you wore when you stept out of your Chaise at the Crown Inn. + +My Mother always said that your Mother was by far the most witty, +sensible, and agreeable Woman she knew. I remember one of the very few +delightful Dinner parties I ever was at--in St. James' Place--(was it?) a +Party of seven or eight, at a round Table, your Mother at the head of the +Table, and Mrs. F. Kemble my next Neighbour. And really the (almost) +only other pleasant Dinner was one you gave me and the Donnes in Savile +Row, before going to see Wigan in 'Still Waters,' which you said was +_your_ Play, in so far as you had suggested the Story from some French +Novel. + +I used to think what a deep current of melancholy was under your Mother's +Humour. Not 'under,' neither: for it came up as naturally to the surface +as her Humour. My mother always said that one great charm in her was, +her Naturalness. + +If you read to your Company, pray do you ever read _the_ Scene in the +'Spanish Tragedy' quoted in C. Lamb's Specimens--such a Scene as (not +being in Verse, and quite familiar talk) I cannot help reading to my +Guests--very few and far between--I mean by 'I,' one who has no gift at +all for reading except the feeling of a few things: and I can't help +stumbling upon Tears in this. Nobody knows who wrote this one scene: it +was thought Ben Jonson, who could no more have written it than I who read +it: for what else of his is it like? Whereas, Webster one fancies might +have done it. It is not likely that you do not know this wonderful bit: +but, if you have it not by heart almost, look for it again at once, and +make others do so by reading to them. + +The enclosed Note from Mowbray D[onne] was the occasion of my writing +thus directly to you. And yet I have spoken 'de omnibus other rebus' +first. But I venture to think that your feeling on the subject will be +pretty much like my own, and so, no use in talking. + +Now, if I could send you part of what I am now packing up for some +Woodbridge People--some--some--Saffron Buns!--for which this Place is +notable from the first day of Lent till Easter--A little Hamper of these! + +Now, my dear Mrs. Kemble, do consider this letter of mine as an Answer to +yours--your two--else I shall be really frightened at making you write so +often to yours always and sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +XXV. + + +LOWESTOFT, _March_ 11/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I am really ashamed that you should apologize for asking me a Copy of +Calderon, etc. {64a} I had about a hundred Copies of all those things +printed _when_ printed: and have not had a hundred friends to give them +to--poor Souls!--and am very well pleased to give to any one who +likes--especially any Friend of yours. I think however that your reading +of them has gone most way to make your Lady ask. But, be that as it may, +I will send you a Copy directly I return to my own Chateau, which I mean +to do when the Daffodils have taken the winds of March. {64b} + +We have had severe weather here: it has killed my Brother Peter (not +John, my eldest) who tried to winter at Bournemouth, after having +wintered for the last ten years at Cannes. Bronchitis:--which (_sotto +voce_) I have as yet kept Cold from coming to. But one knows one is not +'out of the Wood' yet; May, if not March, being, you know, one of our +worst Seasons. + +I heard from our dear Donne a week ago; speaking with all his own blind +and beautiful Love for his lately lost son; and telling me that he +himself keeps his heart going by Brandy. But he speaks of this with no +Fear at all. He is going to leave Weymouth Street, but when, or for +where, he does not say. He spoke of a Letter he had received from you +some while ago. + +Now about Crabbe, which also I am vext you should have trouble about. I +wrote to you the day after I had your two Letters, with Mr. Furness' +enclosed, and said that, seeing the uncertainty of any success in the +matter, I really would not bother you or him any more. You know it is +but a little thing; which, even if a Publisher tried piece-meal, would +very likely be scouted: I only meant 'piece-meal,' by instalments: so as +they could be discontinued if not liked. But I suppose I must keep my +Work--of paste, and scissors--for the benefit of the poor Friends who +have had the benefit of my other Works. + +Well: as I say, I wrote and posted my Letter at once, asking you to thank +Mr. Furness for me. I think this must be a month ago--perhaps you had my +Letter the day after you posted this last of yours, dated February 21. Do +not trouble any more about it, pray: read Carlyle's 'Kings of Norway' in +Fraser and believe me ever yours + +E. F.G. + +I will send a little bound Copy of the Plays for yourself, dear Mrs. +Kemble, if you will take them; so you can give the Lady those you +have:--but, whichever way you like. + + + + +XXVI. + + +LOWESTOFT, _March_ 17/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +This bit of Letter is written to apprise you that, having to go to +Woodbridge three days ago, I sent you by Post a little Volume of the +Plays, and (what I had forgotten) a certain little Prose Dialogue {65} +done up with them. This is more than you wanted, but so it is. The +Dialogue is a pretty thing in some respects: but disfigured by some +confounded _smart_ writing in parts: And this is all that needs saying +about the whole concern. You must not think necessary to say anything +more about it yourself, only that you receive the Book. If you do not, +in a month's time, I shall suppose it has somehow lost its way over the +Atlantic: and then I will send you the Plays you asked for, stitched +together--and those only. + +I hope you got my Letter (which you had not got when your last was +written) about Crabbe: for I explained in it why I did not wish to +trouble you or Mr. Furness any more with such an uncertain business. +Anyhow, I must ask you to thank him for the trouble he had already taken, +as I hope you know that I thank you also for your share in it. + +I scarce found a Crocus out in my Garden at home, and so have come back +here till some green leaf shows itself. We are still under the dominion +of North East winds, which keep people coughing as well as the Crocus +under ground. Well, we hope to earn all the better Spring by all this +Cold at its outset. + +I have so often spoken of my fear of troubling you by all my Letters, +that I won't say more on that score. I have heard no news of Donne since +I wrote. I have been trying to read Gil Blas and La Fontaine again; but, +as before, do not relish either. {67} I must get back to my Don Quixote +by and by. + +Yours as ever + +E. F.G. + +I wonder if this letter will smell of Tobacco: for it is written just +after a Pipe, and just before going to bed. + + + + +XXVII. + + +LOWESTOFT: _April_ 9/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I wrote you a letter more than a fortnight ago--mislaid it--and now am +rather ashamed to receive one from you thanking me beforehand for the +mighty Book which I posted you a month ago. I only hope you will not +feel bound to acknowledge [it] when it does reach you, I think I said so +in the Letter I wrote to go along with it. And I must say no more in the +way of deprecating your Letters, after what you write me. Be assured +that all my deprecations were for your sake, not mine; but there's an end +of them now. + +I had a longish letter from Donne himself some while ago; indicating, I +thought, _some_ debility of Mind and Body. He said, however, he was +going on very well. And a Letter from Mowbray (three or four days old) +speaks of his Father as 'remarkably well.' But these Donnes won't +acknowledge Bodily any more than Mental fault in those they love. Blanche +had been ill, of neuralgic Cold: Valentia not well: but both on the +mending hand now. + +It has been indeed the Devil of a Winter: and even now--To-day as I +write--no better than it was three months ago. The Daffodils scarce dare +take April, let alone March; and I wait here till a Green Leaf shows +itself about Woodbridge. + +I have been looking over four of Shakespeare's Plays, edited by Clark and +Wright: editors of the 'Cambridge Shakespeare.' These 'Select Plays' are +very well done, I think: Text, and Notes; although with somewhat too much +of the latter. Hamlet, Macbeth, Tempest, and Shylock--I heard them +talking in my room--all alive about me. + +By the by--How did _you_ read 'To-morrow and To-morrow, etc.' All the +Macbeths I have heard took the opportunity to become melancholy when they +came to this: and, no doubt, some such change from Fury and Desperation +was a relief to the Actor, and perhaps to the Spectator. But I think it +_should_ all go in the same Whirlwind of Passion as the rest: +Folly!--Stage Play!--Farthing Candle; Idiot, etc. Macready used to drop +his Truncheon when he heard of the Queen's Death, and stand with his +Mouth open for some while--which didn't become him. + +I have not seen his Memoir: only an extract or two in the Papers. He +always seemed to me an Actor by Art and Study, with some native Passion +to inspire him. But as to Genius--we who have seen Kean! + +I don't know if you were acquainted with Sir A. Helps, {68} whose Death +(one of this Year's Doing) is much regretted by many. I scarcely knew +him except at Cambridge forty years ago: and could never relish his +Writings, amiable and sensible as they are. I suppose they will help to +swell that substratum of Intellectual _Peat_ (Carlyle somewhere calls it) +{69} from [which] one or two living Trees stand out in a Century. So +Shakespeare above all that Old Drama which he grew amidst, and which (all +represented by him alone) might henceforth be left unexplored, with the +exception of a few twigs of Leaves gathered here and there--as in Lamb's +Specimens. Is Carlyle himself--with all his Genius--to subside into the +Level? Dickens, with all his Genius, but whose Men and Women act and +talk already after a more obsolete fashion than Shakespeare's? I think +some of Tennyson will survive, and drag the deader part along with it, I +suppose. And (I doubt) Thackeray's terrible Humanity. + +And I remain yours ever sincerely, +A very small Peat-contributor, +E. F.G. + +I am glad to say that Clark and Wright Bowdlerize Shakespeare, though +much less extensively than Bowdler. But in one case, I think, they have +gone further--altering, instead of omitting: which is quite wrong! + + + + +XXVIII. + + +LOWESTOFT: _April_ 19/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Yesterday I wrote you a letter: enveloped it: then thought there was +something in it you might misunderstand--Yes!--the written word across +the Atlantic looking perhaps so different from what intended; so kept my +Letter in my pocket, and went my ways. This morning your Letter of April +3 is forwarded to me; and I shall re-write the one thing that I yesterday +wrote about--as I had intended to do before your Letter came. Only, let +me say that I am really ashamed that you should have taken the trouble to +write again about my little, little, Book. + +Well--what I wrote about yesterday, and am to-day about to re-write, +is--Macready's Memoirs. You asked me in your previous Letter whether I +had read them. No--I had not: and had meant to wait till they came down +to Half-price on the Railway Stall before I bought them. But I wanted to +order something of my civil Woodbridge Bookseller: so took the course of +ordering this Book, which I am now reading at Leisure: for it does not +interest me enough to devour at once. It is however a very unaffected +record of a very conscientious Man, and Artist; conscious (I think) that +he was not a great Genius in his Profession, and conscious of his defect +of Self-control in his Morals. The Book is almost entirely about +_himself_, _his_ Studies, _his_ Troubles, _his_ Consolations, etc.; not +from Egotism, I do think, but as the one thing he had to consider in +writing a Memoir and Diary. Of course one expects, and wishes, that the +Man's self should be the main subject; but one also wants something of +the remarkable people he lived with, and of whom one finds little here +but that 'So-and-so came and went'--scarce anything of what they said or +did, except on mere business; Macready seeming to have no Humour; no +intuition into Character, no Observation of those about him (how could he +be a great Actor then?)--Almost the only exception I have yet reached is +his Account of Mrs. Siddons, whom he worshipped: whom he acted with in +her later years at Country Theatres: and who was as kind to him as she +was even then heart-rending on the Stage. He was her Mr. Beverley: {71} +'a very young husband,' she told him: but 'in the right way if he would +study, study, study--and not marry till thirty.' At another time, when +he was on the stage, she stood at the side scene, called out 'Bravo, Sir, +Bravo!' and clapped her hands--all in sight of the Audience, who joined +in her Applause. Macready also tells of her falling into such a +Convulsion, as it were, in Aspasia {72a} (what a subject for such a +sacrifice!) that the Curtain had to be dropped, and Macready's Father, +and Holman, who were among the Audience, looked at each other to see +which was whitest! This was the Woman whom people somehow came to look +on as only majestic and terrible--I suppose, after Miss O'Neill rose upon +her Setting. + +Well, but what I wrote about yesterday--a passage about you yourself. I +fancy that he and you were very unsympathetic: nay, you have told me of +some of his Egotisms toward you, 'who had scarce learned the rudiments of +your Profession' (as also he admits that he scarce had). But, however +that may have been, his Diary records, 'Decr. 20 (1838) Went to Covent +Garden Theatre: on my way continued the perusal of Mrs. Butler's Play, +which is a work of uncommon power. Finished the reading of Mrs. Butler's +Play, which is one of the most powerful of the modern Plays I have +seen--most painful--almost shocking--but full of Power, Poetry and +Pathos. She is one of the most remarkable women of the present Day.' + +So you see that if he thought you deficient in the Art which you (like +himself) had unwillingly to resort to, you were efficient in the far +greater Art of supplying that material on which the Histrionic must +depend. (N.B.--Which play of yours? Not surely the 'English Tragedy' +unless shown to him in MS.? {72b} Come: I have sent you my Translations: +you should give me your Original Plays. When I get home, I will send you +an old Scratch by Thackeray of yourself in Louisa of Savoy--shall I?) + +On the whole, I find Macready (so far as I have gone) a just, generous, +religious, and affectionate Man; on the whole, humble too! One is well +content to assure oneself of this; but it is not worth spending 28_s._ +upon. + +Macready would have made a better Scholar--or Divine--than Actor, I +think: a Gentleman he would have been in any calling, I believe, in spite +of his Temper--which he acknowledges, laments, and apologizes for, on +reflection. + +Now, here is enough of my small writing for your reading. I have been +able to read, and admire, some Corneille lately: as to Racine--'_Ce n'est +pas mon homme_,' as Catharine of Russia said of him. Now I am at Madame +de Sevigne's delightful Letters; I should like to send you a Bouquet of +Extracts: but must have done now, being always yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +XXIX. + + +LOWESTOFT: _May_ 16/75 + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I have been wishing to send you Carlyle's Norway Kings, and oh! such a +delightful Paper of Spedding's on the Text of Richard III. {74} But I +have waited till I should hear from you, knowing that you _will_ reply! +And not feeling sure, till I hear, whether you are not on your way to +England Eastward ho!--even as I am now writing!--Or, I fancy--should you +not be well? Anyhow, I shall wait till some authentic news of yourself +comes to me. I should not mind sending you Carlyle--why, yes! I _will_ +send him! But old Spedding--which is only a Proof--I won't send till I +know that you are still where you were to receive it--Oh! such a piece of +musical criticism! without the least pretence to being Musick: as dry as +he can make it, in fact. But he does, with utmost politeness, smash the +Cambridge Editors' Theory about the Quarto and Folio Text of R. III.--in +a way that perhaps Mr. Furness might like to see. + +Spedding says that Irving's Hamlet is simply--_hideous_--a strong +expression for Spedding to use. But--(lest I should think his +condemnation was only the Old Man's fault of depreciating all that is +new), he extols Miss Ellen Terry's Portia as simply _a perfect +Performance_: remembering (he says) all the while how fine was Fanny +Kemble's. Now, all this you shall read for yourself, when I have token +of your Whereabout, and Howabout: for I will send you Spedding's Letter, +as well as his Paper. + +Spedding won't go and see Salvini's Othello, because he does not know +Italian, and also because he hears that Salvini's is a different +Conception of Othello from Shakespeare's. I can't understand either +reason; but Spedding is (as Carlyle {75a} wrote me of his Bacon) the +'invincible, and victorious.' At any rate, I can't beat him. Irving I +never could believe in as Hamlet, after seeing part of his famous +Performance of a Melodrama called 'The Bells' three or four years ago. +But the Pollocks, and a large World beside, think him a Prodigy--whom +Spedding thinks--a Monster! To this Complexion is the English Drama +come. + +I wonder if your American Winter has transformed itself to such a sudden +Summer as here in Old England. I returned to my Woodbridge three weeks +ago: not a leaf on the Trees: in ten days they were all green, and +people--perspiring, I suppose one must say. Now again, while the Sun is +quite as Hot, the Wind has swerved round to the East--so as one broils on +one side and freezes on t'other--and I--the Great Twalmley {75b}--am +keeping indoors from an Intimation of Bronchitis. I think it is time for +one to leave the Stage oneself. + +I heard from Mowbray Donne some little while ago; as he said nothing (I +think) of his Father, I conclude that there is nothing worse of him to be +said. He (the Father) has a Review of Macready--laudatory, I suppose--in +the Edinburgh, and _Mr._ Helen Faucit (Martin) as injurious a one in the +Quarterly: the reason of the latter being (it is supposed) because _Mrs._ +H. F. is not noticed except just by name. To this Complexion also! + +Ever yours, +E. F.G. + +Since writing as above, your Letter comes; as you do not speak of moving, +I shall send Spedding and Carlyle by Post to you, in spite of the Loss of +Income you tell me of which would (I doubt) close up _my_ thoughts some +while from such speculations. I do not think _you_ will take trouble so +to heart. Keep Spedding for me: Carlyle I don't want again. Tired as +you--and I--are of Shakespeare Commentaries, you will like this. + + + + +XXX. + + +LOWESTOFT: _July_ 22/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I have abstained from writing since you wrote me how busily your Pen was +employed for the Press: I wished more than ever to spare you the trouble +of answering me--which I knew you would not forgo. And now you will feel +called upon, I suppose, though I would fain spare you. + +Though I date from this place still, I have been away from it at my own +Woodbridge house for two months and more; only returning here indeed to +help make a better Holiday for a poor Lad who is shut up in a London +Office while his Heart is all for Out-of-Door, Country, Sea, etc. We +have been having wretched Holyday weather, to be sure: rain, mist, and +wind; St. Swithin at his worst: but all better than the hateful London +Office--to which he must return the day after To-morrow, poor Fellow! + +I suppose you will see--if you have not yet seen--Tennyson's Q. Mary. I +don't know what to say about it; but the Times says it is the finest Play +since Shakespeare; and the Spectator that it is superior to Henry VIII. +Pray do you say something of it, when you write:--for I think you must +have read it before that time comes. + +Then Spedding has written a delicious Paper in Fraser about the late +Representation of The Merchant of Venice, and his E. Terry's perfect +personation of his perfect Portia. I cannot agree with him in all he +says--for one thing, I must think that Portia made 'a hole in her +manners' when she left Antonio trembling for his Life while she all the +while [knew] how to defeat the Jew by that knowledge of the Venetian Law +which (oddly enough) the Doge knew nothing about. Then Spedding thinks +that Shylock has been so pushed forward ever since Macklin's time as to +preponderate over all the rest in a way that Shakespeare never intended. +{77} But, if Shakespeare did not intend this, he certainly erred in +devoting so much of his most careful and most powerful writing to a +Character which he meant to be subsidiary, and not principal. But +Spedding is more likely to be right than I: right or wrong he pleads his +cause as no one else can. His Paper is in this July number of Fraser: I +would send it you if you had more time for reading than your last Letter +speaks of; I _will_ send if you wish. + +I have not heard of Donne lately: he had been staying at Lincoln with +Blakesley, the Dean: and is now, I suppose, at Chislehurst, where he took +a house for a month. + +And I am yours ever and sincerely +E. F.G. + + + + +XXXI. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _Aug._ 24, [1875.] + +Now, my dear Mrs. Kemble, you will have to call me 'a Good Creature,' as +I have found out a Copy of your capital Paper, {78} and herewith post it +to you. Had I not found this Copy (which Smith & Elder politely found +for me) I should have sent you one of my own, cut out from a Volume of +Essays by other friends, Spedding, etc., on condition that you should +send me a Copy of such Reprint as you may make of it in America. It is +extremely interesting; and I always think that your Theory of the +Intuitive _versus_ the Analytical and Philosophical applies to the other +Arts as well as that of the Drama. Mozart couldn't tell how he made a +Tune; even a whole Symphony, he said, unrolled itself out of a leading +idea by no logical process. Keats said that no Poetry was worth +[anything] unless it came spontaneously as Leaves to a Tree, etc. {79} I +have no faith in your Works of Art done on Theory and Principle, like +Wordsworth, Wagner, Holman Hunt, etc. + +But, one thing you can do on Theory, and carry it well into Practice: +which is--to write your Letter on Paper which does not let the Ink +through, so that (according to your mode of paging) your last Letter was +crossed: I really thought it so at first, and really had very hard work +to make it out--some parts indeed still defying my Eyes. What I read of +your remarks on Portia, etc., is so good that I wish to keep it: but +still I think I shall enclose you a scrap to justify my complaint. It +was almost by Intuition, not on Theory, that I deciphered what I did. +Pray you amend this. My MS. is bad enough, and on that very account I +would avoid diaphanous Paper. Are you not ashamed? + +I shall send you Spedding's beautiful Paper on the Merchant of Venice +{80} if I can lay hands on it: but at present my own room is given up to +a fourth Niece (Angel that I am!) You would see that S[pedding] agrees +with you about Portia, and in a way that I am sure must please you. But +(so far as I can decipher that fatal Letter) you say nothing at all to me +of the other Spedding Paper I sent to you (about the Cambridge Editors, +etc.), which I must have back again indeed, unless you wish to keep it, +and leave me to beg another Copy. Which to be sure I can do, and will, +if your heart is set upon it--which I suppose it is not at all. + +I have not heard of Donne for so long a time, that I am uneasy, and have +written to Mowbray to hear. M[owbray] perhaps is out on his Holyday, +else I think he would have replied at once. And 'no news may be the Good +News.' + +I have no news to tell of myself; I am much as I have been for the last +four months: which is, a little ricketty. But I get out in my Boat on +the River three or four hours a Day when possible, and am now as ever +yours sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +XXXII. + + +[_Oct._ 4, 1875] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I duly received your last legible Letter, and Spedding's Paper: for both +of which all Thanks. But you must do something more for me. I see by +Notes and Queries that you are contributing Recollections to some +American Magazine; I want you to tell me where I can get this, with all +the back Numbers in which you have written. + +I return the expected favour (Hibernice) with the enclosed Prints, one of +which is rather a Curiosity: that of Mrs. Siddons by Lawrence when he was +_aetat._ 13. The other, done from a Cast of herself by herself, is only +remarkable as being almost a Copy of this early Lawrence--at least, in +Attitude, if not in Expression. I dare say you have seen the Cast +itself. And now for a Story better than either Print: a story to which +Mrs. Siddons' glorious name leads me, burlesque as it is. + +You may know there is a French Opera of Macbeth--by Chelard. This was +being played at the Dublin Theatre--Viardot, I think, the Heroine. +However that may be, the Curtain drew up for the Sleep-walking Scene; +Doctor and Nurse were there, while a long mysterious Symphony went +on--till a Voice from the Gallery called out to the Leader of the Band, +Levey--'Whisht! Lavy, my dear--tell us now--is it a Boy or a Girl?' This +Story is in a Book which I gave 2_s._ for at a Railway Stall; called +Recollections of an Impresario, or some such name; {82a} a Book you would +not have deigned to read, and so would have missed what I have read and +remembered and written out for you. + +It will form the main part of my Letter: and surely you will not expect +anything better from me. + +Your hot Colorado Summer is over; and you are now coming to the season +which you--and others beside you--think so peculiarly beautiful in +America. We have no such Colours to show here, you know: none of that +Violet which I think you have told me of as mixing with the Gold in the +Foliage. Now it is that I hear that Spirit that Tennyson once told of +talking to himself among the faded flowers in the Garden-plots. I think +he has dropt that little Poem {82b} out of his acknowledged works; there +was indeed nothing in it, I think, but that one Image: and that sticks by +me as _Queen Mary_ does not. + +I have just been telling some Man enquiring in Notes and Queries where he +may find the beautiful foolish old Pastoral beginning-- + + 'My Sheep I neglected, I broke my Sheep-hook, &c.' {82c} + +which, if you don't know it, I will write out for you, ready as it offers +itself to my Memory. Mrs. Frere of Cambridge used to sing it as she +could sing the Classical Ballad--to a fairly expressive tune: but there +is a movement (Trio, I think) in one of dear old Haydn's Symphonies +almost made for it. Who else but Haydn for the Pastoral! Do you +remember his blessed Chorus of 'Come, gentle Spring,' that open the +Seasons? Oh, it is something to remember the old Ladies who sang that +Chorus at the old Ancient Concerts rising with Music in hand to sing that +lovely piece under old Greatorex's Direction. I have never heard Haydn +and Handel so well as in those old Rooms with those old Performers, who +still retained the Tradition of those old Masters. Now it is getting +Midnight; but so mild--this October 4--that I am going to smoke one Pipe +outdoors--with a little Brandy and water to keep the Dews off. I told +you I had not been well all the Summer; I say I begin to 'smell the +Ground,' {83} which you will think all Fancy. But I remain while above +Ground + +Yours sincerely +E. F.G. + + + + +XXXIII. + + +[_October_, 1875.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +My last Letter asked you how and where I could get at your Papers; this +is to say, I have got them, thanks to the perseverance of our Woodbridge +Bookseller, who would not be put off by his London Agent, and has finally +procured me the three Numbers {84} which contain your 'Gossip.' Now +believe me; I am delighted with it; and only wish it might run on as long +as I live: which perhaps it may. Of course somewhat of my Interest +results from the Times, Persons, and Places you write of; almost all more +or less familiar to me; but I am quite sure that very few could have +brought all before me as you have done--with what the Painters call, so +free, full, and flowing a touch. I suppose this 'Gossip' is the Memoir +you told me you were about; three or four years ago, I think: or perhaps +Selections from it; though I hardly see how your Recollections could be +fuller. No doubt your Papers will all be collected into a Book; perhaps +it would have been financially better for you to have so published it +now. But, on the other hand, you will have the advantage of writing with +more freedom and ease in the Magazine, knowing that you can alter, +contract, or amplify, in any future Re-publication. It gives me such +pleasure to like, and honestly say I like, this work--and--I know I'm +right in such matters, though I can't always give the reason why I like, +or don't like, Dr. Fell: as much wiser People can--who reason themselves +quite wrong. + +I suppose you were at School in the Rue d'Angouleme near about the time +(you don't give dates enough, I think--there's one fault for you!)--about +the time when we lived there: I suppose you were somewhat later, however: +for assuredly my Mother and yours would have been together often--Oh, but +your Mother was not there, only you--at School. We were there in 1817- +18--signalised by The Great Murder--that of Fualdes--one of the most +interesting events in all History to me, I am sorry to say. For in that +point I do not say I am right. But that Rue d'Angouleme--do you not +remember the house cornering on the Champs Elysees with some ornaments in +stone of Flowers and Garlands--belonging to a Lord Courtenay, I believe? +And do you remember a Pepiniere over the way; and, over that, seeing that +Temple in the Beaujon Gardens with the Parisians descending and ascending +in Cars? And (I think) at the end of the street, the Church of St. +Philippe du Roule? Perhaps I shall see in your next Number that you do +remember all these things. + +Well: I was pleased with some other Papers in your Magazine: as those on +V. Hugo, {85a} and Tennyson's Queen Mary: {85b} I doubt not that +Criticism on English Writers is likely to be more impartial over the +Atlantic, and not biassed by Clubs, Coteries, etc. I always say that we +in the Country are safer Judges than those of even better Wits in London: +not being prejudiced so much, whether by personal acquaintance, or party, +or Fashion. I see that Professor Wilson said much the same thing to +Willis forty years ago. + +I have written to Donne to tell him of your Papers, and that I will send +him my Copies if he cannot get them. Mowbray wrote me word that his +Father, who has bought the house in Weymouth Street, was now about +returning to it, after some Alterations made. Mowbray talks of paying me +a little Visit here--he and his Wife--at the End of this month:--when +what Good Looks we have will all be gone. + +Farewell for the present; I count on your Gossip: and believe me (what it +serves to make me feel more vividly) + +Your sincere old Friend +E. F.G. + + + + +XXXIV. + + +[Nov. 1875.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +The Mowbray Donnes have been staying some days {86} with me--very +pleasantly. Of course I got them to tell me of the fine things in +London: among the rest, the Artists whose Photos they sent me, and I here +enclose. The Lady, they tell me--(Spedding's present Idol)--is better +than her Portrait--which would not have so enamoured Bassanio. Irving's, +they say, is flattered. But 'tis a handsome face, surely; and one that +should do for Hamlet--if it were not for that large Ear--do you notice? I +was tempted to send it to you, because it reminds me of some of your +Family: your Father, most of all, as Harlowe has painted him in that +famous Picture of the Trial Scene. {87a} It is odd to me that the fine +Engraving from that Picture--once so frequent--is scarce seen now: it has +seemed strange to me to meet People who never even heard of it. + +I don't know why you have a little Grudge against Mrs. Siddons--perhaps +you will say you have not--all my fancy. I think it was noticed at +Cambridge that your Brother John scarce went to visit her when she was +staying with that Mrs. Frere, whom you don't remember with pleasure. She +did talk much and loud: but she had a fine Woman's heart underneath, and +she could sing a classical Song: as also some of Handel, whom she had +studied with Bartleman. But she never could have sung the Ballad with +the fulness which you describe in Mrs. Arkwright. {87b} + +Which, together with your mention of your American isolation, reminds me +of some Verses of Hood, with which I will break your Heart a little. They +are not so very good, neither: but I, in England as I am, and like to be, +cannot forget them. + + 'The Swallow with Summer + Shall wing o'er the Seas; + The Wind that I sigh to + Shall sing in your Trees; + + The Ship that it hastens + Your Ports will contain-- + But for me--I shall never + See England again.' {88a} + +It always runs in my head to a little German Air, common enough in our +younger days--which I will make a note of, and you will, I dare say, +remember at once. + +I doubt that what I have written is almost as illegible as that famous +one of yours: in which however only [paper] was in fault: {88b} and now I +shall scarce mend the matter by taking a steel pen instead of that old +quill, which certainly did fight upon its Stumps. + +Well now--Professor Masson of Edinburgh has asked me to join him and +seventy-nine others in celebrating Carlyle's eightieth Birthday on +December 4--with the Presentation of a Gold Medal with Carlyle's own +Effigy upon it, and a congratulatory Address. I should have thought such +a Measure would be ridiculous to Carlyle; but I suppose Masson must have +ascertained his Pleasure from some intimate Friend of C.'s: otherwise he +would not have known of my Existence for one. However Spedding and +Pollock tell me that, after some hesitation like my own, they judged best +to consent. Our Names are even to be attached somehow to a--White Silk, +or Satin, Scroll! Surely Carlyle cannot be aware of that? I hope +devoutly that my Name come too late for its Satin Apotheosis; but, if it +do not, I shall apologise to Carlyle for joining such Mummery. I only +followed the Example of my Betters. + +Now I must shut up, for Photos and a Line of Music is to come in. I was +so comforted to find that your Mother had some hand in Dr. Kitchener's +Cookery Book, {89} which has always been Guide, Philosopher, and Friend +in such matters. I can't help liking a Cookery Book. + +Ever yours +E. F.G. + +No: I never turned my tragic hand on Fualdes; but I remember well being +taken in 1818 to the Ambigu Comique to see the 'Chateau de Paluzzi,' +which was said to be founded on that great Murder. I still distinctly +remember a Closet, from which came some guilty Personage. It is not only +the Murder itself that impressed me, but the Scene it was enacted in; the +ancient half-Spanish City of Rodez, with its River Aveyron, its lonely +Boulevards, its great Cathedral, under which the Deed was done in the +'Rue des Hebdomadiers.' I suppose you don't see, or read, our present +Whitechapel Murder--a nasty thing, not at all to my liking. The Name of +the Murderer--as no one doubts he is, whatever the Lawyers may +disprove--is the same as that famous Man of Taste who wrote on the Fine +Arts in the London Magazine under the name of Janus Weathercock, {90a} +and poisoned Wife, Wife's Mother and Sister after insuring their Lives. +De Quincey (who was one of the Magazine) has one of his Essays about this +wretch. + +Here is another half-sheet filled, after all: I am afraid rather +troublesome to read. In three or four days we shall have another +Atlantic, and I am ever yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +XXXV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Decr._ 29/75. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +You will say I am a very good Creature indeed, for beginning to answer +your Letter the very day it reaches me. But so it happens that this same +day also comes a Letter from Laurence the Painter, who tells me something +of poor Minnie's Death, {90b} which answers to the Query in your Letter. +Laurence sends me Mrs. Brookfield's Note to him: from which I quote to +you--no!--I will make bold to send you her Letter itself! Laurence says +he is generally averse to showing others a Letter meant for himself (the +little Gentleman that he is!), but he ventures in this case, knowing me +to be an old friend of the Family. And so I venture to post it over the +Atlantic to you who take a sincere Interest in them also. I wonder if I +am doing wrong? + +In the midst of all this mourning comes out a new Volume of Thackeray's +Drawings--or Sketches--as I foresaw it would be, too much Caricature, not +so good as much [of] his old Punch; and with none of the better things I +wanted them to put in--for his sake, as well as the Community's. I do +not wonder at the Publisher's obstinacy, but I wonder that Annie T. did +not direct otherwise. I am convinced I can hear Thackeray saying, when +such a Book as this was proposed to him--'Oh, come--there has been enough +of all this'--and crumpling up the Proof in that little hand of his. For +a curiously little hand he had, uncharacteristic of the grasp of his +mind: I used to consider it half inherited from the Hindoo people among +whom he was born. {91} + +I dare say I told you of the Proposal to congratulate Carlyle on his +eightieth Birthday; and probably some Newspaper has told you of the +Address, and the Medal, and the White Satin Roll to which our eighty +names were to be attached. I thought the whole Concern, Medal, Address, +and Satin Roll, a very Cockney thing; and devoutly hoped my own +illustrious name would arrive too late. I could not believe that Carlyle +would like the Thing: but it appears by his published Answer that he did. +He would not, ten years ago, I think. Now--talking of illustrious names, +etc., oh, my dear Mrs. Kemble, your sincere old Regard for my Family and +myself has made you say more--of one of us, at least--than the World will +care to be told: even if your old Regard had not magnified our lawful +Deserts. But indeed it has done so: in Quality, as well as in Quantity. +I know I am not either squeamishly, or hypocritically, saying all this: I +am sure I know myself better than you do, and take a juster view of my +pretensions. I think you Kembles are almost Donnes in your determined +regard, and (one may say) Devotion to old Friends, etc. A rare--a +noble--Failing! Oh, dear!--Well, I shall not say any more: you will know +that I do not the less thank you for publickly speaking of [me] as I +never was spoken of before--only _too_ well. Indeed, this is so; and +when you come to make a Book of your Papers, I shall make you cut out +something. Don't be angry with me now--no, I know you will not. {92} + +The Day after To-morrow I shall have your new Number; which is a +Consolation (if needed) for the Month's going. And I am ever yours + +E. F.G. + +Oh, I must add--The Printing is no doubt the more legible; but I get on +very well with your MS. when not crossed. {94} + +Donne, I hear, is fairly well. Mowbray has had a Lift in his Inland +Revenue Office, and now is secure, I believe, of Competence for Life. +Charles wrote me a kindly Letter at Christmas: he sent me his own Photo; +and then (at my Desire) one of his wife:--Both of which I would enclose, +but that my Packet is already bulky enough. It won't go off to-night +when it is written--for here (absolutely!) comes my Reader (8 p.m.) to +read me a Story (very clever) in All the Year Round, and no one to go to +Post just now. + +Were they not pretty Verses by Hood? I thought to make you a little +miserable by them:--but you take no more notice than--what you will. + +Good Night! Good Bye!--Now for Mrs. Trollope's Story, entitled 'A +Charming Fellow'--(very clever). + + + + +XXXVI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Febr_: 2/76. + +Now, my dear Mrs. Kemble, I have done you a little good turn. Some days +ago I was talking to my Brother John (I dared not show him!) of what you +had said of my Family in your Gossip. He was extremely interested: and +wished much that I [would] convey you his old hereditary remembrances. +But, beside that, he wished you to have a Miniature of your Mother which +my Mother had till she died. It is a full length; in a white Dress, with +blue Scarf, looking and tending with extended Arms upward in a Blaze of +Light. My Brother had heard my Mother's History of the Picture, but +could not recall it. I fancy it was before your Mother's Marriage. The +Figure is very beautiful, and the Face also: like your Sister Adelaide, +and your Brother Henry both. I think you will be pleased with this: and +my Brother is very pleased that you should have it. Now, how to get it +over to you is the Question; I believe I must get my little Quaritch, the +Bookseller, who has a great American connection, to get it safely over to +you. But if you know of any surer means, let me know. It is framed: and +would look much better if some black edging were streaked into the Gold +Frame; a thing I sometimes do only with a strip of Black Paper. The old +Plan of Black and Gold Frames is much wanted where Yellow predominates in +the Picture. Do you know I have a sort of Genius for Picture-framing, +which is an Art People may despise, as they do the Milliner's: but you +know how the prettiest Face may be hurt, and the plainest improved, by +the Bonnet; and I find that (like the Bonnet, I suppose) you can only +judge of the Frame, by trying it on. I used to tell some Picture Dealers +they had better hire me for such Millinery: but I have not had much Scope +for my Art down here. So now you have a little Lecture along with the +Picture. + +Now, as you are to thank me for this good turn done to you, so have I to +thank you for Ditto to me. The mention of my little Quaritch reminds me. +He asked me for copies of Agamemnon, to give to some of his American +Customers who asked for them; and I know from whom they must have somehow +heard of it. And now, what Copies I had being gone, he is going, at his +own risk, to publish a little Edition. The worst is, he _will_ print it +pretentiously, I fear, as if one thought it very precious: but the Truth +is, I suppose he calculates on a few Buyers who will give what will repay +him. One of my Patrons, Professor Norton, of Cambridge Mass., has sent +me a second Series of Lowell's 'Among my Books,' which I shall be able to +acknowledge with sincere praise. I had myself bought the first Series. +Lowell may do for English Writers something as Ste. Beuve has done for +French: and one cannot give higher Praise. {97a} + +There has been an absurd Bout in the Athenaeum {97b} between Miss Glyn +and some Drury Lane Authorities. She wrote a Letter to say that she +would not have played Cleopatra in a revival of Antony and Cleopatra for +1000 pounds a line, I believe, so curtailed and mangled was it. Then +comes a Miss Wallis, who played the Part, to declare that 'the Veteran' +(Miss G.) had wished to play the Part as it was acted: and furthermore +comes Mr. Halliday, who somehow manages and adapts at D. L., to assert +that the Veteran not only wished to enact the Desecration, but did enact +it for many nights when Miss Wallis was indisposed. Then comes Isabel +forward again--but I really forget what she said. I never saw her but +once--in the Duchess of Malfi--very well: better, I dare say, than +anybody now; but one could not remember a Word, a Look, or an Action. She +speaks in her Letter of being brought up in the grand School and +Tradition of the Kembles. + +I am glad, somehow, that you liked Macready's Reminiscences: so honest, +so gentlemanly in the main, so pathetic even in his struggles to be a +better Man and Actor. You, I think, feel with him in your Distaste for +the Profession. + +I write you tremendous long Letters, which you can please yourself about +reading through. I shall write Laurence your message of Remembrance to +him. I had a longish Letter from Donne, who spoke of himself as well +enough, only living by strict Rule in Diet, Exercise, etc. + +We have had some remarkable Alternations of Cold and Hot here too: but +nothing like the extremes you tell me of on the other side of the Page. + +Lionel Tennyson (second Son), who answered my half-yearly Letter to his +father, tells me they had heard that Annie Thackeray was well in health, +but--as you may imagine in Spirits. + +And I remain yours always +E. F.G. + +How is it my Atlantic Monthly is not yet come? + + + + +XXXVII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Febr_: 17/76. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I ought to have written before to apprise you of your Mother's Miniature +being sent off--by Post. On consideration, we judged that to be the +safest and speediest way: the Post Office here telling us that it was not +too large or heavy so to travel: without the Frame. As, however, our +Woodbridge Post Office is not very well-informed, I shall be very glad to +hear it has reached you, in its double case: wood within, and tin without +(quite unordered and unnecessary), which must make you think you receive +a present of Sardines. You lose, you see, the Benefit of my exalted +Taste in respect of Framing, which I had settled to perfection. Pray get +a small Frame, concaving inwardly (Ogee pattern, I believe), which leads +the Eyes into the Picture: whereas a Frame convexing outwardly leads the +Eye away from the Picture; a very good thing in many cases, but not +needed in this. I dare say the Picture (faded as it is) will look poor +to you till enclosed and set off by a proper Frame. And the way is, as +with a Bonnet (on which you know much depends even with the fairest +face), to try one on before ordering it home. That is, if you choose to +indulge in some more ornamental Frame than the quite simple one I have +before named. Indeed, I am not sure if the Picture would not look best +in a plain gold Flat (as it is called) without Ogee, or any ornament +whatsoever. But try it on first: and then you can at least please +yourself, if not the Terrible Modiste who now writes to you. My Brother +is very anxious you should have the Picture, and wrote to me again to +send you his hereditary kind Regards. I ought to be sending you his +Note--which I have lost. Instead of that, I enclose one from poor +Laurence to whom I wrote your kind message; and am as ever + +Yours +E. F.G. + +You will let me know if the Picture has not arrived before this Note +reaches you? + + + + +XXXVIII. + + +LOWESTOFT: _March_ 16/76. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Directly that you mentioned 'Urania,' I began to fancy I remembered her +too. {100} And we are both right; I wrote to a London friend to look out +for the Engraving: and I post it to you along with this Letter. If it do +not reach you in some three weeks, let me know, and I will send another. + +The Engraving stops short before the Feet: the Features are coarser than +the Painting: which makes me suppose that it (Engraving) is from the +Painting: or from some Painting of which yours is a Copy--(I am called +off here to see the Procession of Batty's Circus parade up the street)-- + +The Procession is past: the Clowns, the Fine Ladies (who should wear a +little Rouge even by Daylight), the 'performing' Elephants, the helmeted +Cavaliers, and last, the Owner (I suppose) as 'the modern Gentleman' +driving four-in-hand. + +This intoxication over, I return to my Duties--to say that the Engraving +is from a Painting by 'P. Jean,' engraved by Vendramini: published by +John Thompson in 1802, and dedicated to the 'Hon. W. R. Spencer'--(who, I +suppose, was the 'Vers-de Societe' Man of the Day; and perhaps the owner +of the original: whether now yours, or not. All this I tell you in case +the Print should not arrive in fair time: and you have but to let me +know, and another shall post after it. + +I have duly written my Brother your thanks for his Present, and your +sincere Gratification in possessing it. He is very glad it has so much +pleased you. But he can only surmise thus much more of its history--that +it belonged to my Grandfather before my Mother: he being a great lover of +the Theatre, and going every night I believe to old Covent Garden or old +Drury Lane--names really musical to me--old Melodies. + +I think I wrote to you about the Framing. I always say of that, as of +other Millinery (on which so much depends), the best way is--to try on +the Bonnet before ordering it; which you can do by the materials which +all Carvers and Gilders in this Country keep by them. I have found even +my Judgment--the Great Twalmley's Judgment--sometimes thrown out by not +condescending to this; in this, as in so many other things, so very +little making all the Difference. I should not think that Black next the +Picture would do so well: but try, try: try on the Bonnet: and if you +please yourself--inferior Modiste as you are--why, so far so good. + +Donne, who reports himself as very well (always living by Discipline and +Rule), tells me that he has begged you to return to England if you would +make sure of seeing him again. I told Pollock of your great Interest in +Macready: I too find that I am content to have bought the Book, and feel +more interest in the Man than in the Actor. My Mother used to know him +once: but I never saw him in private till once at Pollock's after his +retirement: when he sat quite quiet, and (as you say) I was sorry not to +have made a little Advance to him, as I heard he had a little wished to +see me because of that old Acquaintance with my Mother. I should like to +have told him how much I liked much of his Performance; asked him why he +would say 'Amen stu-u-u-u-ck in my Throat' (which was a bit of wrong, as +well as vulgar, Judgment, I think). But I looked on him as the great Man +of the Evening, unpresuming as he was: and so kept aloof, as I have ever +done from all Celebrities--yourself among them--who I thought must be +wearied enough of Followers and Devotees--unless those of Note. + +I am now writing in the place--in the room--from which I wrote ten years +ago--it all recurs to me--with Montaigne for my Company, and my Lugger +about to be built. Now I have brought Madame de Sevigne (who loved +Montaigne too--the capital Woman!) and the Lugger--Ah, there is a long +sad Story about that!--which I won't go into-- + +Little Quaritch seems to have dropt Agamemnon, Lord of Hosts, for the +present: and I certainly am not sorry, for I think it would only have +been abused by English Critics: with some, but not all, Justice. You are +very good in naming your American Publisher, but I suppose it must be +left at present with Quaritch, to whom I wrote a 'Permit,' so long as I +had nothing to do with it. + +Ever yours +E. F.G. + + + + +XXXIX. + + +[LOWESTOFT, _April_, 1876.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +From Lowestoft still I date: as just ten years ago when I was about +building a Lugger, and reading Montaigne. The latter holds his own with +me after three hundred years: and the Lugger does not seem much the worse +for her ten years' wear, so well did she come bouncing between the Piers +here yesterday, under a strong Sou'-Wester. My Great Captain has her no +more; he has what they call a 'Scotch Keel' which is come into fashion: +her too I see: and him too steering her, broader and taller than all the +rest: fit to be a Leader of Men, Body and Soul; looking now Ulysses-like. +Two or three years ago he had a run of constant bad luck; and, being +always of a grand convivial turn, treating Everybody, he got deep in +Drink, against all his Promises to me, and altogether so lawless, that I +brought things to a pass between us. 'He should go on with me if he +would take the Tee-total Pledge for one year'--'No--he had broken his +word,' he said, 'and he would not pledge it again,' much as he wished to +go on with me. That, you see, was very fine in him; he is altogether +fine--A Great Man, I maintain it: like one of Carlyle's old Norway Kings, +with a wider morality than we use; which is very good and fine (as this +Captain said to me) 'for you who are born with a silver spoon in your +mouths.' I did not forget what Carlyle too says about Great Faults in +Great Men: even in David, the Lord's Anointed. But I thought best to +share the Property with him and let him go his way. He had always +resented being under any Control, and was very glad to be his own sole +Master again: and yet clung to me in a wild and pathetic way. He has not +been doing better since: and I fear is sinking into disorder. + +This is a long story about one you know nothing about except what little +I have told you. But the Man is a very remarkable Man indeed, and you +may be interested--you must be--in him. + +'Ho! parlons d'autres choses, ma Fille,' as my dear Sevigne says. She +now occupies Montaigne's place in my room: well--worthily: she herself a +Lover of Montaigne, and with a spice of his free thought and speech in +her. I am sometimes vext I never made her acquaintance till last year: +but perhaps it was as well to have such an acquaintance reserved for +one's latter years. The fine Creature! much more alive to me than most +Friends--I _should_ like to see her 'Rochers' in Brittany. {105} + +'Parlons d'autres choses'--your Mother's Miniature. You seemed at first +to think it was taken from the Engraving: but the reverse was always +clear to me. The whole figure, down to the Feet, is wanted to account +for the position of the Legs; and the superior delicacy of Feature would +not be gained _from_ the Engraving, but the contrary. The Stars were +stuck in to make an 'Urania' of it perhaps. I do not assert that your +Miniature is the original: but that such a Miniature is. I did not +expect that Black next the Picture would do: had you 'tried on the +Bonnet' first, as I advised? I now wish I had sent the Picture over in +its original Frame, which I had doctored quite well with a strip of Black +Paper pasted over the Gold. It might really have gone through Quaritch's +Agency: but I got into my head that the Post was safer. (How badly I am +writing!) I had a little common Engraving of the Cottage bonnet +Portrait: so like Henry. If I did not send it to you, I know not what is +become of it. + +Along with your Letter came one from Donne telling me of your Niece's +Death. {106} He said he had written to tell you. In reply, I gave him +your message; that he must 'hold on' till next year when peradventure you +may see England again, and hope to see him too. + +Sooner or later you will see an Account of 'Mary Tudor' at the Lyceum. +{107} It is just what I expected: a 'succes d'estime,' and not a very +enthusiastic one. Surely, no one could have expected more. And now +comes out a new Italian Hamlet--Rossi--whose first appearance is recorded +in the enclosed scrap of _Standard_. And (to finish Theatrical or +Dramatic Business) Quaritch has begun to print Agamemnon--so leisurely +that I fancy he wishes to wait till the old Persian is exhausted, and so +join the two. I certainly am in no hurry; for I fully believe we shall +only get abused for the Greek in proportion as we were praised for the +Persian--in England. I mean: for you have made America more favourable. + +'Parlons d'autres choses.' 'Eh? mais de quoi parler,' etc. Well: a +Blackbird is singing in the little Garden outside my Lodging Window, +which is frankly opened to what Sun there is. It has been a singular +half year; only yesterday Thunder in rather cold weather; and last week +the Road and Rail in Cambridge and Huntingdon was blocked up with Snow; +and Thunder then also. I suppose I shall get home in ten days: before +this Letter will reach you, I suppose: so your next may be addressed to +Woodbridge. I really don't know if these long Letters are more of +Trouble or Pleasure to you: however, there is an end to all: and that End +is that I am yours as truly as ever I was + +E. F.G. + + + + +XL. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _July_ 4, [1876.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Here I am back into the Country, as I may call my suburb here as compared +to Lowestoft; all my house, except the one room--which 'serves me for +Parlour and Bedroom and all' {108a}--occupied by Nieces. Our weather is +temperate, our Trees green, Roses about to bloom, Birds about to leave +off singing--all sufficiently pleasant. I must not forget a Box from +Mudie with some Memoirs in it--of Godwin, Haydon, etc., which help to +amuse one. And I am just beginning Don Quixote once more for my 'piece +de Resistance,' not being so familiar with the First Part as the Second. +Lamb and Coleridge (I think) thought that Second Part should not have +been written; why then did I--not for contradiction's sake, I am sure--so +much prefer it? Old Hallam, in his History of Literature, resolved me, I +believe, by saying that Cervantes, who began by making his Hero +ludicrously crazy, fell in love with him, and in the second part tamed +and tempered him down to the grand Gentleman he is: scarce ever +originating a Delusion, though acting his part in it as a true Knight +when led into it by others. {108b} A good deal however might well be +left out. If you have Jarvis' Translation by, or near, you, pray +read--oh, read all of the second part, except the stupid stuff of the old +Duenna in the Duke's Palace. + +I fear I get more and more interested in your 'Gossip,' as you approach +the Theatre. I suppose indeed that it is better to look on than to be +engaged in. I love it, and reading of it, now as much as ever I cared to +see it: and that was, very much indeed. I never heard till from your +last Paper {109a} that Henry was ever thought of for Romeo: I wonder he +did not tell me this when he and I were in Paris in 1830, and used to go +and see 'La Muette!' (I can hear them calling it now:) at the Grand +Opera. I see that 'Queen Mary' has some while since been deposed from +the Lyceum; and poor Mr. Irving descended from Shakespeare to his old +Melodrama again. All this is still interesting to me down here: much +more than to you--over there!-- + +'Over there' you are in the thick of your Philadelphian Exhibition, +{109b} I suppose: but I dare say you do not meddle with it very much, and +will probably be glad when it is all over. I wish now I had sent you the +Miniature in its Frame, which I had instructed to become it. What you +tell us your Mother said concerning Dress, I certainly always felt: only +secure the Beautiful, and the Grand, in all the Arts, whatever Chronology +may say. Rousseau somewhere says that what you want of Decoration in the +Theatre is, what will bewilder the Imagination--'ebranler l'Imagination,' +I think: {110} only let it be Beautiful! + +_June_ 5. + +I kept this letter open in case I should see Arthur Malkin, who was +coming to stay at a Neighbour's house. He very kindly did call on me: he +and his second wife (who, my Neighbour says, is a very proper Wife), but +I was abroad--though no further off than my own little Estate; and he +knows I do not visit elsewhere. But I do not the less thank him, and am +always yours + +E. F.G. + +Pollock writes me he had just visited Carlyle--quite well for his Age: +and vehement against Darwin, and the Turk. + + + + +XLI. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _July_ 31/76. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +A better pen than usual tempts me to write the little I have to tell you; +so that [at] any rate your Eyes shall not be afflicted as sometimes I +doubt they are by my MS. + +Which MS. puts me at once in mind of Print: and to tell you that I shall +send you Quaritch's Reprint of Agamemnon: which is just done after many +blunders. The revises were not sent me, as I desired: so several things +are left as I meant not: but 'enfin' here it is at last so fine that I am +ashamed of it. For, whatever the merit of it may be, it can't come near +all this fine Paper, Margin, etc., which Quaritch _will_ have as counting +on only a few buyers, who will buy--in America almost wholly, I think. +And, as this is wholly due to you, I send you the Reprint, however little +different to what you had before. + +'Tragedy wonders at being so fine,' which leads me to that which ought +more properly to have led to _it_: your last two Papers of 'Gossip,' +which are capital, both for the Story told, and the remarks that arise +from it. To-morrow, or next day, I shall have a new Number; and I really +do count rather childishly on their arrival. Spedding also is going over +some of his old Bacon ground in the Contemporary, {111} and his writing +is always delightful to me though I cannot agree with him at last. I am +told he is in full Vigour: as indeed I might guess from his writing. I +heard from Donne some three weeks ago: proposing a Summer Holyday at +Whitby, in Yorkshire: Valentia, I think, not very well again: Blanche +then with her Brother Charles. They all speak very highly of Mrs. +Santley's kindness and care. Mowbray talks of coming down this way +toward the end of August: but had not, when he last wrote, fixed on his +Holyday place. + +Beside my two yearly elder Nieces, I have now a younger who has spent the +last five Winters in Florence with your once rather intimate (I think) +Jane FitzGerald my Sister. She married, (you may know) a Clergyman +considerably older than herself. I wrote to Annie Thackeray lately, and +had an answer (from the Lakes) to say she was pretty well--as also Mr. +Stephen. + +And I am ever yours +E. F.G. + +P.S. On second thoughts I venture to send you A. T.'s letter, which may +interest you and cannot shame her. I do not want it again. + + + + +XLII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Septr._ 21/76. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Have your American Woods begun to hang out their Purple and Gold yet? on +this Day of Equinox. Some of ours begin to look rusty, after the Summer +Drought; but have not turned Yellow yet. I was talking of this to a +Heroine of mine who lives near here, but visits the Highlands of +Scotland, which she loves better than Suffolk--and she said of those +Highland Trees--'O, they give themselves no dying Airs, but turn Orange +in a Day, and are swept off in a Whirlwind, and Winter is come.' + +Now too one's Garden begins to be haunted by that Spirit which Tennyson +says is heard talking to himself among the flower-borders. Do you +remember him? {113a} + +And now--Who should send in his card to me last week--but the old Poet +himself--he and his elder Son Hallam passing through Woodbridge from a +Tour in Norfolk. {113b} 'Dear old Fitz,' ran the Card in pencil, 'We are +passing thro'.' {113c} I had not seen him for twenty years--he looked +much the same, except for his fallen Locks; and what really surprised me +was, that we fell at once into the old Humour, as if we had only been +parted twenty Days instead of so many Years. I suppose this is a Sign of +Age--not altogether desirable. But so it was. He stayed two Days, and +we went over the same old grounds of Debate, told some of the old +Stories, and all was well. I suppose I may never see him again: and so I +suppose we both thought as the Rail carried him off: and each returned to +his ways as if scarcely diverted from them. Age again!--I liked Hallam +much; unaffected, unpretending--no Slang--none of Young England's +nonchalance--speaking of his Father as 'Papa' and tending him with great +Care, Love, and Discretion. Mrs. A. T. is much out of health, and scarce +leaves Home, I think. {114a} + +I have lately finished Don Quixote again, and I think have inflamed A. T. +to read him too--I mean in his native Language. For this _must_ be, good +as Jarvis' Translation is, and the matter of the Book so good that one +would think it would lose less than any Book by Translation. But somehow +that is not so. I was astonished lately to see how Shakespeare's Henry +IV. came out in young V. Hugo's Prose Translation {114b}: Hotspur, +Falstaff and all. It really seemed to show me more than I had yet seen +in the original. + +Ever yours, +E. F.G. + + + + +XLIII. + + +LOWESTOFT: _October_ 24/76. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Little--Nothing--as I have to write, I am nevertheless beginning to write +to you, from this old Lodging of mine, from which I think our +Correspondence chiefly began--ten years ago. I am in the same Room: the +same dull Sea moaning before me: the same Wind screaming through the +Windows: so I take up the same old Story. My Lugger was then about +building: {115} she has passed into other hands now: I see her from time +to time bouncing into Harbour, with her '244' on her Bows. Her Captain +and I have parted: I thought he did very wrongly--Drink, among other +things: but he did not think he did wrong: a different Morality from +ours--that, indeed, of Carlyle's ancient Sea Kings. I saw him a few days +ago in his house, with Wife and Children; looking, as always, too big for +his house: but always grand, polite, and unlike anybody else. I was +noticing the many Flies in the room--'Poor things,' he said, 'it is the +warmth of our Stove makes them alive.' When Tennyson was with me, whose +Portrait hangs in my house in company with those of Thackeray and this +Man (the three greatest men I have known), I thought that both Tennyson +and Thackeray were inferior to him in respect of Thinking of Themselves. +When Tennyson was telling me of how The Quarterly abused him (humorously +too), and desirous of knowing why one did not care for his later works, +etc., I thought that if he had lived an active Life, as Scott and +Shakespeare; or even ridden, shot, drunk, and played the Devil, as Byron, +he would have done much more, and talked about it much less. 'You know,' +said Scott to Lockhart, 'that I don't care a Curse about what I write,' +{116} and one sees he did not. I don't believe it was far otherwise with +Shakespeare. Even old Wordsworth, wrapt up in his Mountain mists, and +proud as he was, was above all this vain Disquietude: proud, not vain, +was he: and that a Great Man (as Dante) has some right to be--but not to +care what the Coteries say. What a Rigmarole! + +Donne scarce ever writes to me (Twalmley the Great), and if he do not +write to you, depend upon it he thinks he has nothing worth sending over +the Atlantic. I heard from Mowbray quite lately that his Father was very +well. + +Yes: you told me in a previous Letter that you were coming to England +after Christmas. I shall not be up to going to London to see you, with +all your Company about you; perhaps (don't think me very impudent!) you +may come down, if we live till Summer, to my Woodbridge Chateau, and +there talk over some old things. + +I make a kind of Summer in my Room here with Boccaccio. What a Mercy +that one can return with a Relish to these Books! As Don Quixote can +only be read in his Spanish, so I do fancy Boccaccio only in his Italian: +and yet one is used to fancy that Poetry is the mainly untranslateable +thing. How prettily innocent are the Ladies, who, after telling very +loose Stories, finish with 'E cosi Iddio faccia [noi] godere del nostro +Amore, etc.,' sometimes, _Domeneddio_, more affectionately. {117a} + +Anyhow, these Ladies are better than the accursed Eastern Question; +{117b} of which I have determined to read, and, if possible, hear, no +more till the one question be settled of Peace or War. If war, I am told +I may lose some 5000 pounds in Russian Bankruptcy: but I can truly say I +would give that, and more, to ensure Peace and Good Will among Men at +this time. Oh, the Apes we are! I must retire to my Montaigne--whom, by +the way, I remember reading here, when the Lugger was building! Oh, the +Apes, etc. But there was A Man in all that Business still, who is so +now, somewhat tarnished.--And I am yours as then sincerely + +E. F.G. + + + + +XLIV. + + +LOWESTOFT: _December_ 12/76. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +If you hold to your Intention of coming to Europe in January, this will +be my last Letter over the Atlantic--till further Notice! I dare say you +will send me a last Rejoinder under the same conditions. + +I write, you see, from the Date of my last letter: but have been at home +in the meanwhile. And am going home to-morrow--to arrange about +Christmas Turkeys (God send we haven't all our fill of that, this Year!) +and other such little matters pertaining to the Season--which, to myself, +is always a very dull one. Why it happens that I so often write to you +from here, I scarce know; only that one comes with few Books, perhaps, +and the Sea somehow talks to one of old Things. I have ever my Edition +of Crabbe's Tales of the Hall with me. How pretty is this-- + + 'In a small Cottage on the rising Ground + West of the Waves, and just beyond their Sound.' {118} + +Which reminds me also that one of the Books I have here is Leslie +Stephen's 'Hours in a Library,' really delightful reading, and, I think, +really settling some Questions of Criticism, as one wants to be finally +done in all Cases, so as to have no more about and about it. I think I +could have suggested a little Alteration in the matter of this Crabbe, +whom I probably am better up in than L. S., though I certainly could not +write about it as he does. Also, one word about _Clarissa_. Almost all +the rest of the two Volumes I accept as a Disciple. {119a} + +Another Book of the kind--Lowell's 'Among my Books,' is excellent also: +perhaps with more _Genius_ than Stephen: but on the other hand not so +temperate, judicious, or scholarly in _taste_. It was Professor Norton +who sent me Lowell's Second Series; and, if you should--(as you +inevitably will, though in danger of losing the Ship) answer this Letter, +pray tell me if you know how Professor Norton is--in health, I mean. You +told me he was very delicate: and I am tempted to think he may be less +well than usual, as he has not acknowledged the receipt of a Volume +{119b} I sent him with some of Wordsworth's Letters in it, which he had +wished to see. The Volume did not need Acknowledgment absolutely: but +probably would not have been received without by so amiable and polite a +Man, if he [were] not out of sorts. I should really be glad to hear that +he has only forgotten, or neglected, to write. + +Mr. Lowell's Ode {120a} in your last Magazine seemed to me full of fine +Thought; but it wanted Wings. I mean it kept too much to one Level, +though a high Level, for Lyric Poetry, as Ode is supposed to be: both in +respect to Thought, and Metre. Even Wordsworth (least musical of men) +changed his Flight to better purpose in his Ode to Immortality. Perhaps, +however, Mr. Lowell's subject did not require, or admit, such +Alternations. + +Your last Gossip brought me back to London--but what Street I cannot make +sure of--but one Room in whatever Street it were, where I remember your +Mr. Wade, who took his Defeat at the Theatre so bravely. {120b} And your +John, in Spain with the Archbishop of Dublin: and coming home full of +Torrijos: and singing to me and Thackeray one day in Russell Street: +{120c} + +{Music score for Si un Elio conspiro alevo. . .: p120.jpg} + +All which comes to me west of the waves and just within the sound: and is +to travel so much farther Westward over an Expanse of Rollers such as we +see not in this Herring-pond. Still, it is--The Sea. + +Now then Farewell, dear Mrs. Kemble. You will let me know when you get +to Dublin? I will add that, after very many weeks, I did hear from +Donne, who told me of you, and that he himself had been out to dine: and +was none the worse. + +And I still remain, you see, your long-winded Correspondent + +E. F.G. + + + + +XLV. + + +12 MARINE TERRACE, LOWESTOFT, +_February_ 19/77. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Donne has sent me the Address on the cover of this Letter. I know you +will write directly you hear from me; that is 'de rigueur' with you; and, +at any rate, you have your Voyage home to England to tell me of: and how +you find yourself and all in the Old Country. I suppose you include my +Old Ireland in it. Donne wrote that you were to be there till this +Month's end; that is drawing near; and, if that you do not protract your +Visit, you will [be] very soon within sight of dear Donne himself, who, I +hear from Mowbray, is very well. + +Your last Gossip was very interesting to me. I see in it (but not in the +most interesting part) {122a} that you write of a 'J. F.,' who tells you +of a Sister of hers having a fourth Child, etc. I fancy this must be a +Jane FitzGerald telling you of her Sister Kerrich, who would have +numbered about so many Children about that time--1831. Was it that Jane? +I think you and she were rather together just then. After which she +married herself to a Mr. Wilkinson--made him very Evangelical--and +tiresome--and so they fed their Flock in a Suffolk village. {122b} And +about fourteen or fifteen years ago he died: and she went off to live in +Florence--rather a change from the Suffolk Village--and there, I suppose, +she will die when her Time comes. + +Now you have read Harold, I suppose; and you shall tell me what you think +of it. Pollock and Miladi think it has plenty of Action and Life: one of +which Qualities I rather missed in it. + +Mr. Lowell sent me his Three Odes about Liberty, Washington, etc. They +seemed to me full of fine Thought, and in a lofty Strain: but wanting +Variety both of Mood and Diction for Odes--which are supposed to mean +things to be chanted. So I ventured to hint to him--Is he an angry man? +But he wouldn't care, knowing of me only through amiable Mr. Norton, who +knows me through you. I think _he_ must be a very amiable, modest, man. +And I am still yours always + +E. F.G. + + + + +XLVI. + + +12 MARINE TERRACE, LOWESTOFT, +_March_ 15, [1877. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +By this time you are, I suppose, at the Address you gave me, and which +will now cover this Letter. You have seen Donne, and many Friends, +perhaps--and perhaps you have not yet got to London at all. But you will +in time. When you do, you will, I think, have your time more taken up +than in America--with so many old Friends about you: so that I wish more +and more you would not feel bound to answer my Letters, one by one; but I +suppose you will. + +What I liked so much in your February Atlantic {123} was all about Goethe +and Portia: I think, _fine_ writing, in the plain sense of the word, and +partly so because not 'fine' in the other Sense. You can indeed spin out +a long Sentence of complicated Thought very easily, and very clearly; a +rare thing. As to Goethe, I made another Trial at Hayward's Prose +Translation this winter, but failed, as before, to get on with it. I +suppose there is a Screw loose in me on that point, seeing what all +thinking People think of it. I am sure I have honestly tried. As to +Portia, I still think she ought not to have proved her 'Superiority' by +withholding that simple Secret on which her Husband's Peace and his +Friend's Life depended. Your final phrase about her 'sinking into +perfection' is capital. Epigram--without Effort. + +You wrote me that Portia was your _beau-ideal_ of Womanhood {124a}--Query, +of _Lady-hood_. For she had more than 500 pounds a year, which Becky +Sharp thinks enough to be very virtuous on, and had not been tried. Would +she have done Jeanie Deans' work? She might, I believe: but was not +tried. + +I doubt all this will be rather a Bore to you: coming back to England to +find all the old topics of Shakespeare, etc., much as you left them. You +will hear wonderful things about Browning and Co.--Wagner--and H. Irving. +In a late TEMPLE BAR magazine {124b} Lady Pollock says that her Idol +Irving's Reading of Hood's Eugene Aram is such that any one among his +Audience who had a guilty secret in his Bosom 'must either tell it, or +die.' These are her words. + +You see I still linger in this ugly place: having a very dear little +Niece a little way off: a complete little 'Pocket-Muse' I call her. One +of the first Things she remembers is--_you_, in white Satin, and very +handsome, she says, reading Twelfth Night at this very place. And I am + +Yours ever +E. F.G. + +(I am now going to make out a Dictionary-list of the People in my dear +Sevigne, for my own use.) {125a} + + + + +XLVII. + + +LITTLE GRANGE: WOODBRIDGE. +_May_ 5/77. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I am disappointed at not finding any Gossip in the last Atlantic; {125b} +the Editor told us at the end of last Year that it was to be carried on +through this: perhaps you are not bound down to every month: but I hope +the links are not to discontinue for long. + +I did not mean in my last letter to allude again to myself and Co. in +recommending some omissions when you republish. {126} That--_viz._, +about myself--I was satisfied you would cut out, as we had agreed before. +(N.B. No occasion to omit your kindly Notices about my Family--nor my +own Name among them, if you like: only not all about myself.) What I +meant in my last Letter was, some of your earlier Letters--or parts of +Letters--to H.--as some from Canterbury, I think--I fancy some part of +your early Life might be condensed. But I will tell you, if you will +allow me, when the time comes: and then you can but keep to your own +plan, which you have good reason to think better than mine--though I am +very strong in Scissors and Paste: my 'Harp and Lute.' Crabbe is under +them now--as usual, once a Year. If one lived in London, or in any busy +place, all this would not be perhaps: but it hurts nobody--unless you, +who do hear too much about it. + +Last night I made my Reader begin Dickens' wonderful 'Great +Expectations': not considered one of his best, you know, but full of +wonderful things, and even with a Plot which, I think, only needed less +intricacy to be admirable. I had only just read the Book myself: but I +wanted to see what my Reader would make of it: and he was so interested +that he re-interested me too. Here is another piece of Woodbridge Life. + +Now, if when London is hot you should like to run down to this +Woodbridge, here will be my house at your Service after July. It may be +so all this month: but a Nephew, Wife, and Babe did talk of a Fortnight's +Visit: but have not talked of it since I returned a fortnight ago. June +and July my Invalid Niece and her Sister occupy the House--not longer. +Donne, and all who know me, know that I do not like anyone to come out of +their way to visit me: but, if they be coming this way, I am very glad to +do my best for them. And if any of them likes to occupy my house at any +time, here it is at their Service--at yours, for as long as you will, +except the times I have mentioned. I give up the house entirely except +my one room, which serves for Parlour and Bed: and which I really prefer, +as it reminds me of the Cabin of my dear little Ship--mine no more. + +Here is a long Story about very little. Woodbridge again. + +A Letter from Mowbray Donne told me that you had removed to some house +in--Connaught Place? {127a}--but he did not name the number. + +Valentia's wedding comes on: perhaps you will be of the Party. {127b} I +think it would be one more of Sorrow than of Gladness to me: but perhaps +that may be the case with most Bridals. + +It is very cold here: ice of nights: but my Tulips and Anemones hold up +still: and Nightingales sing. Somehow, I don't care for those latter at +Night. They ought to be in Bed like the rest of us. This seems talking +for the sake of being singular: but I have always felt it, singular or +not. + +And I am yours always + +E. F.G. + + + + +XLVIII. + + +[_June_, 1877.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I only write now on the express condition (which I understand you to +accept) that you will not reply till you are in Switzerland. I mean, of +course, within any reasonable time. Your last Letter is not a happy one +*: but the record of your first Memoir cannot fail to interest and touch +me. + +I surmise--for you do not say so--that you are alone in London now: then, +you must get away as soon as you can; and I shall be very glad to hear +from yourself that you are in some green Swiss Valley, with a blue Lake +before you, and snowy mountain above. + +I must tell you that, my Nieces being here--good, pious, and tender, they +are too--(but one of them an Invalid, and the other devoted to attend +her) they make but little change in my own way of Life. They live by +themselves, and I only see them now and then in the Garden--sometimes not +five minutes in the Day. But then I am so long used to Solitude. And +there is an end of that Chapter. + +I have your Gossip bound up: the binder backed it with Black, which I +don't like (it was his doing, not mine), but you say that your own only +Suit is Sables now. I am going to lend it to a very admirable Lady who +is going to our ugly Sea-side, with a sick Brother: only I have pasted +over one column--_which_, I leave you to guess at. + +I think I never told you--what is the fact, however--that I had wished to +dedicate Agamemnon to you, but thought I could not do so without my own +name appended. Whereas, I could, very simply, as I saw afterwards when +too late. If ever he is reprinted I shall (unless you forbid) do as I +desired to do: for, if for no other reason, he would probably never have +been published but for you. Perhaps he had better [have] remained in +private Life so far as England is concerned. And so much for that grand +Chapter. + +I think it is an ill-omened Year: beside War (which I _won't_ read about) +so much Illness and Death--hereabout, at any rate. A Nephew of mine--a +capital fellow--was pitched upon his head from a Gig a week ago, and we +know not yet how far that head of his may recover itself. But, beside +one's own immediate Friends, I hear of Sickness and Death from further +Quarters; and our Church Bell has been everlastingly importunate with its +"Toll-toll." But Farewell for the present: pray do as I ask you about +writing: and believe me ever yours, + +E. F.G. + +* You were thinking of something else when you misdirected your letter, +which sent it a round before reaching Woodbridge. + + + + +XLIX. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _June_ 23/77. + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I knew the best thing I could do concerning the Book you wanted was to +send your Enquiry to the Oracle itself:--whose Reply I herewith enclose. + +Last Evening I heard read Jeanie Deans' Audience with Argyle, and then +with the Queen. There I stop with the Book. Oh, how refreshing is the +leisurely, easy, movement of the Story, with its true, and +well-harmonized Variety of Scene and Character! There is of course a +Bore--Saddletree--as in Shakespeare. I presume to think--as in +Cervantes--as in Life itself: somewhat too much of him in Scott, perhaps. +But when the fuliginous and Spasmodic Carlyle and Co. talk of Scott's +delineating his Characters from without to within {131a}--why, he seems +to have had a pretty good Staple of the inner Man of David, and Jeanie +Deans, on beginning his Story; as of the Antiquary, Dalgetty, the +Ashtons, and a lot more. I leave all but the Scotch Novels. Madge has a +little--a wee bit--theatrical about her: but I think her to be paired off +with Ophelia, and worth all Miss Austen's Drawing-room Respectabilities +put together. It is pretty what Barry Cornwall says on meeting Scott +among other Authors at Rogers': 'I do not think any one envied him any +more than one envies Kings.' {131b} You have done him honour in your +Gossip: as one ought to do in these latter Days. + +So this will be my last letter to you till you write me from Switzerland: +where I wish you to be as soon as possible. And am yours always and +sincerely + +E. F.G. + +A Letter from Donne speaks cheerfully. And Charles to be married again! +It may be best for him. + + + + +L. + + +31, GREAT GEORGE STREET, S.W. +_Feb._ 20, 1878. + +DEAR EDWARD FITZGERALD, + +I have sent your book ('Mrs. Kemble's Autobiography') as far as Bealings +by a safe convoy, and my cousin, Elizabeth Phillips, who is staying +there, will ultimately convey it to its destination at your house. + +It afforded Charlotte [wife] and myself several evenings of very +agreeable reading, and we certainly were impressed most favourably with +new views as to the qualities of heart and head of the writer. Some +observations were far beyond what her years would have led one to expect. +I think some letters to her friend 'S.' on the strange fancy which +hurried off her brother from taking orders, to fighting Spanish quarrels, +are very remarkable for their good sense, as well as warm feeling. Her +energy too in accepting her profession at the age of twenty as a means of +assisting her father to overcome his difficulties is indicative of the +best form of genius--steady determination to an end. + +Curiously enough, whilst reading the book, we met Mrs. Gordon (a daughter +of Mrs. Sartoris) and her husband at Malkin's at dinner, and I had the +pleasure of sitting next to her. The durability of type in the Kemble +face might be a matter for observation with physiologists, and from the +little I saw of her I should think the lady worthy of the family. + +If the book be issued in a reprint a few omissions might be well. I fear +we lost however by some lacunae which you had caused by covering up a +page or two. + +Charlotte unites with me in kindest regards to yourself + +Yours very sincerely, +HATHERLEY. + +E. FITZGERALD, ESQ. + +I send this to you, dear Mrs. Kemble, not because the writer is a Lord--Ex- +Chancellor--but a very good, amiable, and judicious man. I should have +sent you any other such testimony, had not all but this been oral, only +this one took away the Book, and thus returns it. I had forgot to ask +about the Book; oh, make Bentley do it; if any other English Publisher +should meditate doing so, he surely will apprise you; and you can have +some Voice in it. + +Ever yours +E. F.G. + +No need to return, or acknowledge, the Letter. + + + + +LI. + + +LITTLE GRANGE: WOODBRIDGE. +_February_ 22, [1878.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I am calling on you earlier than usual, I think. In my 'Academy' {134a} +I saw mention of some Notes on Mrs. Siddons in some article of this +month's 'Fortnightly' {134b}--as I thought. So I bought the Number, but +can find no Siddons there. You probably know about it; and will tell me? + +If you have not already read--_buy_ Keats' Love-Letters to Fanny Brawne. +One wishes she had another name; and had left some other Likeness of +herself than the Silhouette (cut out by Scissors, I fancy) which dashes +one's notion of such a Poet's worship. But one knows what +misrepresentations such Scissors make. I had--perhaps have--one of +Alfred Tennyson, done by an Artist on a Steamboat--some thirty years ago; +which, though not inaccurate of outline, gave one the idea of a +respectable Apprentice. {134c} But Keats' Letters--It happened that, +just before they reached me, I had been hammering out some admirable +Notes on Catullus {135a}--another such fiery Soul who perished about +thirty years of age two thousand years ago; and I scarce felt a change +from one to other. {135b} From Catullus' better parts, I mean; for there +is too much of filthy and odious--both of Love and Hate. Oh, my dear +Virgil never fell into that: he was fit to be Dante's companion beyond +even Purgatory. + +I have just had a nice letter from Mr. Norton in America: an amiable, +modest man surely he must be. His aged Mother has been ill: fallen +indeed into some half-paralysis: affecting her Speech principally. He +says nothing of Mr. Lowell; to whom I would write if I did not suppose he +was very busy with his Diplomacy, and his Books, in Spain. I hope he +will give us a Cervantes, in addition to the Studies in his 'Among my +Books,' which seem to me, on the whole, the most conclusive Criticisms we +have on their several subjects. + +Do you ever see Mrs. Ritchie? Fred. Tennyson wrote me that Alfred's son +(Lionel, the younger, I suppose) was to be married in Westminster Abbey: +which Fred, thinks an ambitious flight of Mrs. A. T. + +I may as well stop in such Gossip. Snowdrops and Crocuses out: I have +not many, for what I had have been buried under an overcoat of Clay, poor +little Souls. Thrushes tuning up; and I hope my old Blackbirds have not +forsaken me, or fallen a prey to Cats. + +And I am ever yours +E. F.G. + + + + +LII. + + +THE OLD (CURIOSITY) SHOP. WOODBRIDGE, +_April_ 16, [1878.] + +[Where, by the by, I heard the Nightingale for the first time yesterday +Morning. That is, I believe, almost its exact date of return, wind and +weather permitting. Which being premised--] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I think it is about the time for you to have a letter from me; for I +think I am nearly as punctual as the Nightingale, though at quicker +Intervals; and perhaps there may be other points of Unlikeness. After +hearing that first Nightingale in my Garden, I found a long, kind, and +pleasant, Letter from Mr. Lowell in Madrid: the first of him too that I +have heard since he flew thither. Just before he wrote, he says, he had +been assigning Damages to some American who complained of having been fed +too long on Turtle's Eggs {136}:--and all that sort of Business, says the +Minister, does not inspire a man to Letter-writing. He is acclimatizing +himself to Cervantes, about whom he must write one of his fine, and (as I +think) final Essays: I mean such as (in the case of others he has done) +ought to leave no room for a reversal of Judgment. Amid the multitude of +Essays, Reviews, etc., one still wants _that_: and I think Lowell does it +more than any other Englishman. He says he meets Velasquez at every turn +of the street; and Murillo's Santa Anna opens his door for him. Things +are different here: but when my Oracle last night was reading to me of +Dandie Dinmont's blessed visit to Bertram in Portanferry Gaol, I said--'I +know it's Dandie, and I shouldn't be at all surprized to see him come +into this room.' No--no more than--Madame de Sevigne! I suppose it is +scarce right to live so among Shadows; but--after near seventy years so +passed--'Que voulez-vous?' + +Still, if any Reality would--of its own Volition--draw near to my still +quite substantial Self; I say that my House (if the Spring do not prove +unkindly) will be ready to receive--and the owner also--any time before +June, and after July; that is, before Mrs. Kemble goes to the Mountains, +and after she returns from them. I dare say no more, after so much so +often said, and all about oneself. + +Yesterday the Nightingale; and To-day a small, still, Rain which we had +hoped for, to make 'poindre' the Flower-seeds we put in Earth last +Saturday. All Sunday my white Pigeons were employed in confiscating the +Sweet Peas we had laid there; so that To-day we have to sow the same +anew. + +I think a Memoir of Alfred de Musset, by his Brother, well worth reading. +{138a} I don't say the best, but only to myself the most acceptable of +modern French Poets; and, as I judge, a fine fellow--of the moral French +type (I suppose some of the Shadow is left out of the Sketch), but of a +Soul quite abhorrent from modern French Literature--from V. Hugo (I +think) to E. Sue (I am sure). He loves to read--Clarissa! which reminded +me of Tennyson, some forty years ago, saying to me _a propos_ of that +very book, 'I love those large, _still_, Books.' During a long Illness +of A. de M. a Sister of the Bon Secours attended him: and, when she left, +gave him a Pen worked in coloured Silks, 'Pensez a vos promesses,' as +also a little 'amphore' she had knitted. Seventeen years (I think) +after, when his last Illness came on him, he desired these two things to +be enclosed in his Coffin. {138b} + +And I am ever yours +E. F.G. + + + + +LIII. + + +DUNWICH: _August_ 24, [1878.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I forget if I wrote to you from this solitary Seaside, last year: telling +you of its old Priory walls, etc. I think you must have been in +Switzerland when I was here; however, I'll not tell you the little there +is to tell about it now; for, beside that I may have told it all before, +this little lodging furnishes only a steel pen, and very diluted ink (as +you see), and so, for your own sake, I will be brief. Indeed, my chief +object in writing at all, is, to ask when you go abroad, and how you have +done at Malvern since last I heard from you--now a month ago, I think. + +About the beginning of next week I shall be leaving this place--for good, +I suppose--for the two friends--Man and Wife--who form my Company here, +living a long musket shot off, go away--he in broken health--and would +leave the place too solitary without them. So I suppose I shall decamp +along with them; and, after some time spent at Lowestoft, find my way +back to Woodbridge--in time to see the End of the Flowers, and to prepare +what is to be done in that way for another Year. + +And to Woodbridge your Answer may be directed, if this poor Letter of +mine reaches you, and you should care to answer it--as you will--oh yes, +you will--were it much less significant. + +I have been rather at a loss for Books while here, Mudie having sent me a +lot I did not care for--not even for Lady Chatterton. Aldis Wright gave +me his Edition of Coriolanus to read; and I did not think '_pow wow_' of +it, as Volumnia says. All the people were talking about me. + +And I am ever yours truly +E. F.G. + + + + +LIV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _April_ 3/79. + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:-- + +I know well how exact you are in answering Letters; and I was afraid that +you must be in some trouble, for yourself, or others, when I got no reply +to a second Letter I wrote you addressed to Baltimore Hotel, +Leamington--oh, two months ago. When you last wrote to me, you were +there, with a Cough, which you were just going to take with you to Guy's +Cliff. That I thought not very prudent, in the weather we then had. Then +I was told by some one, in a letter (not from any Donne, I think--no, +Annie Ritchie, I believe) that Mrs. Sartoris was very ill; and so between +two probable troubles, I would not trouble you as yet again. I had to go +to London for a day three weeks ago (to see a poor fellow dying, sooner +or later, of Brain disease), and I ferreted out Mowbray Donne from +Somerset House and he told me you were in London, still ill of a Cough; +but not your Address. So I wrote to his Wife a few days ago to learn it; +and I shall address this Letter accordingly. Mrs. Mowbray writes that +you are better, but obliged to take care of yourself. I can only say 'do +not trouble yourself to write'--but I suppose you will--perhaps the more +if it be a trouble. See what an Opinion I have of you!--If you write, +pray tell me of Mrs. Sartoris--and do not forget yourself. + +It has been such a mortal Winter among those I know, or know of, as I +never remember. I have not suffered myself, further than, I think, +feeling a few stronger hints of a constitutional sort, which are, I +suppose, to assert themselves ever more till they do for me. And that, I +suppose, cannot be long adoing. I entered on my 71st year last Monday, +March 31. + +My elder--and now only--Brother, John, has been shut up with Doctor and +Nurse these two months--AEt. 76; his Wife AEt. 80 all but dead awhile +ago, now sufficiently recovered to keep her room in tolerable ease: I do +not know if my Brother will ever leave his house. + +Oh dear! Here is enough of Mortality. + +I see your capital Book is in its third Edition, as well it deserves to +be. I _see_ no one with whom to talk about it, except one brave Woman +who comes over here at rare intervals--she had read my Atlantic Copy, but +must get Bentley's directly it appeared, and she (a woman of remarkably +strong and independent Judgment) loves it all--not (as some you know) +wishing some of it away. No; she says she wants all to complete her +notion of the writer. Nor have I _heard_ of any one who thinks +otherwise: so 'some people' may be wrong. I know you do not care about +all this. + +I am getting my 'Tales of the Hall' printed, and shall one day ask you, +and three or four beside, whether it had better be published. I think +you, and those three or four others, will like it; but they may also +judge that indifferent readers might not. And that you will all of you +have to tell me when the thing is done. I shall not be in the least +disappointed if you tell me to keep it among 'ourselves,' so long as +'ourselves' are pleased; for I know well that Publication would not carry +it much further abroad; and I am very well content to pay my money for +the little work which I have long meditated doing. I shall have done 'my +little owl.' Do you know what that means?--No. Well then; my +Grandfather had several Parrots of different sorts and Talents: one of +them ('Billy,' I think) could only huff up his feathers in what my +Grandfather called an owl fashion; so when Company were praising the more +gifted Parrots, he would say--'You will hurt poor Billy's feelings--Come! +Do your little owl, my dear!'--You are to imagine a handsome, +hair-powdered, Gentleman doing this--and his Daughter--my Mother--telling +of it. + +And so it is I do my little owl. + +This little folly takes a long bit of my Letter paper--and I do not know +that you will see any fun in it. Like my Book, it would not tell in +Public. + +Spedding reads my proofs--for, though I have confidence in my Selection +of the Verse (owl), I have but little in my interpolated Prose, which I +make obscure in trying to make short. Spedding occasionally marks a +blunder; but (confound him!) generally leaves me to correct it. + +Come--here is more than enough of my little owl. At night we read Sir +Walter for an Hour (Montrose just now) by way of 'Play'--then 'ten +minutes' refreshment allowed'--and the Curtain rises on Dickens +(Copperfield now) which sends me gaily to bed--after one Pipe of solitary +Meditation--in which the--'little owl,' etc. + +By the way, in talking of Plays--after sitting with my poor friend and +his brave little Wife till it was time for him to turn bedward--I looked +in at the famous Lyceum Hamlet; and soon had looked, and heard enough. It +was incomparably the worst I had ever witnessed, from Covent Garden down +to a Country Barn. I should scarce say this to you if I thought you had +seen it; for you told me you thought Irving might have been even a great +Actor, from what you saw of his Louis XI. I think. When he got to +'Something too much of this,' I called out from the Pit door where I +stood, 'A good deal too much,' and not long after returned to my solitary +inn. Here is a very long--and, I believe (as owls go) a rather pleasant +Letter. You know you are not bound to repay it in length, even if you +answer it at all; which I again vainly ask you not to do if a bore. + +I hear from Mrs. Mowbray that our dear Donne is but 'pretty well'; and I +am still yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +LV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _April_ 25, [1879.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I think I have let sufficient time elapse before asking you for another +Letter. I want to know how you are: and, if you can tell me that you are +as well as you and I now expect to be--anyhow, well rid of that Whooping +Cough--that will be news enough for one Letter. What else, you shall add +of your own free will:--not feeling bound. + +When you last wrote me from Leamington, you crossed over your Address: +and I (thinking perhaps of America) deciphered it 'Baltimore.' I wonder +the P. O. did not return me my Letter: but there was no Treason in it, I +dare say. + +My Brother keeps waiting--and hoping--for--Death: which will not come: +perhaps Providence would have let it come sooner, were he not rich enough +to keep a Doctor in the house, to keep him in Misery. I don't know if I +told you in my last that he was ill; seized on by a Disease not uncommon +to old Men--an 'internal Disorder' it is polite to say; but I shall say +to you, disease of the Bladder. I had always supposed he would be found +dead one good morning, as my Mother was--as I hoped to be--quietly dead +of the Heart which he had felt for several Years. But no; it is seen +good that he shall be laid on the Rack--which he may feel the more keenly +as he never suffered Pain before, and is not of a strong Nerve. I will +say no more of this. The funeral Bell, which has been at work, as I +never remember before, all this winter, is even now, as I write, tolling +from St. Mary's Steeple. + +'Parlons d'autres choses,' as my dear Sevigne says. + +I--We--have finished all Sir Walter's Scotch Novels; and I thought I +would try an English one: Kenilworth--a wonderful Drama, which Theatre, +Opera, and Ballet (as I once saw it represented) may well reproduce. The +Scene at Greenwich, where Elizabeth 'interviews' Sussex and Leicester, +seemed to me as fine as what is called (I am told, wrongly) Shakespeare's +Henry VIII. {145} Of course, plenty of melodrama in most other +parts:--but the Plot wonderful. + +Then--after Sir Walter--Dickens' Copperfield, which came to an end last +night because I would not let my Reader read the last Chapter. What a +touch when Peggotty--the man--at last finds the lost Girl, and--throws a +handkerchief over her face when he takes her to his arms--never to leave +her! I maintain it--a little Shakespeare--a Cockney Shakespeare, if you +will: but as distinct, if not so great, a piece of pure Genius as was +born in Stratford. Oh, I am quite sure of that, had I to choose but one +of them, I would choose Dickens' hundred delightful Caricatures rather +than Thackeray's half-dozen terrible Photographs. + +In Michael Kelly's Reminiscences {146} (quite worth reading about +Sheridan) I found that, on January 22, 1802, was produced at Drury Lane +an Afterpiece called _Urania_, by the Honourable W. Spencer, in which +'the scene of Urania's descent was entirely new to the stage, and +produced an extraordinary effect.' Hence then the Picture which my poor +Brother sent you to America. + +'D'autres choses encore.' You may judge, I suppose, by the N.E. wind in +London what it has been hereabout. Scarce a tinge of Green on the +hedgerows; scarce a Bird singing (only once the Nightingale, with broken +Voice), and no flowers in the Garden but the brave old Daffydowndilly, +and Hyacinth--which I scarce knew was so hardy. I am quite pleased to +find how comfortably they do in my Garden, and look so Chinese gay. Two +of my dear Blackbirds have I found dead--of Cold and Hunger, I suppose; +but one is even now singing--across that Funeral Bell. This is so, as I +write, and tell you--Well: we have Sunshine at last--for a day--'thankful +for small Blessings,' etc. + +I think I have felt a little sadder since March 31 that shut my +seventieth Year behind me, while my Brother was--in some such way as I +shall be if I live two or three years longer--'Parlons d'autres'--that I +am still able to be sincerely yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +LVI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _May_ 18, [1879.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +By this Post you ought to receive my Crabbe Book, about which I want your +Opinion--not as to your own liking, which I doubt not will be more than +it deserves: but about whether it is best confined to Friends, who will +like it, as you do, more or less out of private prejudice--Two points in +particular I want you to tell me; + +(1) Whether the Stories generally seem to you to be curtailed so much +that they do not leave any such impression as in the Original. That is +too long and tiresome; but (as in Richardson) its very length serves to +impress it on the mind:--My Abstract is, I doubt not, more readable: but, +on that account partly, leaving but a wrack behind. What I have done +indeed is little else than one of the old Review Articles, which gave a +sketch of the work, and let the author fill in with his better work. + +Well then I want to know--(2) if you find the present tense of my Prose +Narrative discordant with the past tense of the text. I adopted it +partly by way of further discriminating the two: but I may have +misjudged: Tell me: as well as any other points that strike you. You can +tell me if you will--and I wish you would--whether I had better keep the +little _Opus_ to ourselves or let it take its chance of getting a few +readers in public. You may tell me this very plainly, I am sure; and I +shall be quite as well pleased to keep it unpublished. It is only a +very, very, little Job, you see: requiring only a little Taste, and Tact: +and if they have failed me--_Voila_! I had some pleasure in doing my +little work very dexterously, I thought; and I did wish to draw a few +readers to one of my favourite Books which nobody reads. And, now that I +look over it, I fancy that I may have missed my aim--only that my Friends +will like, etc. Then, I should have to put some Preface to the Public: +and explain how many omissions, and some transpositions, have occasioned +the change here and there of some initial particle where two originally +separated paragraphs are united; some use made of Crabbe's original MS. +(quoted in the Son's Edition;) and all such confession to no good, either +for my Author or me. I wish you could have just picked up the Book at a +Railway Stall, knowing nothing of your old Friend's hand in it. But that +cannot be; tell me then, divesting yourself of all personal Regard: and +you may depend upon it you will--save me some further bother, if you bid +me let publishing alone. I don't even know of a Publisher: and won't +have a favour done me by 'ere a one of them,' as Paddies say. This is a +terrible Much Ado about next to Nothing. 'Parlons,' etc. + +Blanche Donne wrote me you had been calling in Weymouth Street: that you +had been into Hampshire, and found Mrs. Sartoris better--Dear Donne seems +to have been pleased and mended by his Children coming about him. I say +but little of my Brother's Death. {149} We were very good friends, of +very different ways of thinking; I had not been within side his lawn +gates (three miles off) these dozen years (no fault of his), and I did +not enter them at his Funeral--which you will very likely--and +properly--think wrong. He had suffered considerably for some weeks: but, +as he became weaker, and (I suppose) some narcotic Medicine--O blessed +Narcotic!--soothed his pains, he became dozily happy. The Day before he +died, he opened his Bed-Clothes, as if it might be his Carriage Door, and +said to his Servant 'Come--Come inside--I am going to meet them.' + +Voila une petite Histoire. Et voila bien assez de mes Egoismes. Adieu, +Madame; dites-moi tout franchement votre opinion sur ce petit Livre; ah! +vous n'en pouvez parler autrement qu'avec toute franchise--et croyez moi, +tout aussi franchement aussi, + +Votre ami devoue +E. F.G. + + + + +LVII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _May_ 22, [1879.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I must thank you for your letter; I was, beforehand, much of your +Opinion; and, unless I hear very different advice from the two others +whom I have consulted--Spedding, the All-wise--(I mean that), and Aldis +Wright, experienced in the Booksellers' world, I shall very gladly abide +by your counsel--and my own. You (I do believe) and a few friends who +already know Crabbe, will not be the worse for this 'Handybook' of one of +his most diffuse, but (to me) most agreeable, Books. That name +(Handybook), indeed, I had rather thought of calling the Book, rather +than 'Readings'--which suggests readings aloud, whether private or +public--neither of which I intended--simply, Readings to oneself. I, who +am a poor reader in any way, have found it all but impossible to read +Crabbe to anybody. So much for that--except that, the Portrait I had +prepared by way of frontispiece turns out to be an utter failure, and +that is another satisfactory reason for not publishing. For I +particularly wanted this Portrait, copied from a Picture by Pickersgill +which was painted in 1817, when these Tales were a-writing, to correct +the Phillips Portrait done in the same year, and showing Crabbe with his +company Look--not insincere at all--but not at all representing the +_writer_. When Tennyson saw Laurence's Copy of this Pickersgill--here, +at my house here--he said--'There I recognise the Man.' + +If you were not the truly sincere woman you are, I should have thought +that you threw in those good words about my other little Works by way of +salve for your _dictum_ on this Crabbe. But I know it is not so. I +cannot think what 'rebuke' I gave you to 'smart under' as you say. {151a} + +If you have never read Charles Tennyson (Turner's) Sonnets, I should like +to send them to you to read. They are not to be got now: and I have +entreated Spedding to republish them with Macmillan, with such a preface +of his own--congenial Critic and Poet--as would discover these Violets +now modestly hidden under the rank Vegetation of Browning, Swinburne, and +Co. Some of these Sonnets have a Shakespeare fancy in them:--some rather +puerile--but the greater part of them, pure, delicate, beautiful, and +quite original. {151b} I told Mr. Norton (America) to get them published +over the water if no one will do so here. + +Little did I think that I should ever come to relish--old Sam Rogers! But +on taking him up the other day (with Stothard's Designs, to be sure!) I +found a sort of Repose from the hatchet-work School, of which I read in +the Athenaeum. + +I like, you know, a good Murder; but in its place-- + + 'The charge is prepared; the Lawyers are met-- + The Judges all ranged, a terrible Show' {152}-- + +only the other night I could not help reverting to that sublime--yes!--of +Thurtell, sending for his accomplice Hunt, who had saved himself by +denouncing Thurtell--sending for him to pass the night before Execution +with perfect Forgiveness--Handshaking--and 'God bless you--God bless +you--you couldn't help it--I hope you'll live to be a good man.' + +You accept--and answer--my Letters very kindly: but this--pray do +think--is an answer--verily by return of Post--to yours. + +Here is Summer! The leaves suddenly shaken out like flags. I am +preparing for Nieces, and perhaps for my Sister Andalusia--who used to +visit my Brother yearly. + +Your sincere Ancient +E. F.G. + + + + +LVIII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _August_ 4, [1879]. + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +Two or three days, I think, after receiving your last letter, I posted an +answer addrest to the Poste Restante of--Lucerne, was it?--anyhow, the +town whose name you gave me, and no more. Now, I will venture through +Coutts, unwilling as I am to trouble their Highnesses--with whom my +Family have banked for three--if not four--Generations. Otherwise, I do +not think they would be troubled with my Accounts, which they attend to +as punctually as if I were 'my Lord;' and I am now their last Customer of +my family, I believe, though I doubt not they have several Dozens of my +Name in their Books--for Better or Worse. + +What now spurs me to write is--an Article {153} I have seen in a Number +of Macmillan for February, with very honourable mention of your Brother +John in an Introductory Lecture on Anglo Saxon, by Professor Skeat. If +you have not seen this 'Hurticle' (as Thackeray used to say) I should +like to send it to you; and will so do, if you will but let me know where +it may find you. + +I have not been away from this place save for a Day or two since last you +heard from me. In a fortnight I may be going to Lowestoft along with my +friends the Cowells. + +I take great Pleasure in Hawthorne's Journals--English, French, and +Italian--though I cannot read his Novels. They are too thickly detailed +for me: and of unpleasant matter too. We of the Old World beat the New, +I think, in a more easy manner; though Browning & Co. do not bear me out +there. And I am sincerely yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +LIX. + + +LOWESTOFT, _Septr._ l8, [1879.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Your last letter told me that you were to be back in England by the +middle of this month. So I write some lines to ask if you _are_ back, +and where to be found. To be sure, I can learn that much from some +Donne: to the Father of whom I must commit this letter for any further +Direction. But I will also say a little--very little having to +say--beyond asking you how you are, and in what Spirits after the great +Loss you have endured. {154} + +Of that Loss I heard from Blanche Donne--some while, it appears, before +you heard of it yourself. I cannot say that it was surprising, however +sad, considering the terrible Illness she had some fifteen years ago. I +will say no more of it, nor of her, of whom I could say so much; but +nothing that would not be more than superfluous to you. + +It did so happen, that, the day before I heard of her Death, I had +thought to myself that I would send her my Crabbe, as to my other +friends, and wondered that I had not done so before. I should have sent +off the Volume for Donne to transmit when--Blanche's Note came. + +After writing of this, I do not think I should add much more, had I much +else to write about. I will just say that I came to this place five +weeks ago to keep company with my friend Edward Cowell, the Professor; we +read Don Quixote together in a morning and chatted for two or three hours +of an evening; and now he is gone away to Cambridge and [has] left me to +my Nephews and Nieces here. By the month's end I shall be home at +Woodbridge, whither any Letter you may please to write me may be +addressed. + +I try what I am told are the best Novels of some years back, but find I +cannot read any but Trollope's. So now have recourse to Forster's Life +of Dickens--a very good Book, I still think. Also, Eckermann's +Goethe--almost as repeatedly to be read as Boswell's Johnson--a German +Johnson--and (as with Boswell) more interesting to me in Eckermann's +Diary than in all his own famous works. + +Adieu: Ever yours sincerely +E. F.G. + +I am daily--hourly--expecting to hear of the Death of another Friend +{155}--not so old a Friend, but yet a great loss to me. + + + + +LX. + + +11 MARINE TERRACE, LOWESTOFT, +_Septr._ 24, [1879 ] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I was to have been at Woodbridge before this: and your Letter only +reached me here yesterday. I have thought upon your desire to see me as +an old Friend of yourself and yours; and you shall not have the trouble +of saying so in vain. I should indeed be perplext at the idea of your +coming all this way for such a purpose, to be shut up at an Hotel with no +one to look in on you but myself (for you would not care for my Kindred +here)--and my own Woodbridge House would require a little time to set in +order, as I have for the present lost the services of one of my 'helps' +there. What do you say to my going to London to see you instead of your +coming down to see me? I should anyhow have to go to London soon; and I +could make my going sooner, or as soon as you please. Not but, if you +want to get out of London, as well as to see me, I can surely get my +house right in a little time, and will gladly do so, should you prefer +it. I hope, indeed, that you will not stay in London at this time of +year, when so many friends are out of it; and it has been my thought--and +hope, I may say--that you have already betaken yourself to some pleasant +place, with a pleasant Friend or two, which now keeps me from going at +once to look for you in London, after a few Adieus here. Pray let me +know your wishes by return of Post: and I will do my best to meet them +immediately: being + +Ever sincerely yours +E. F.G. + + + + +LXI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Sept._ 28, [1879.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:-- + +I cannot be sure of your Address: but I venture a note--to say that--If +you return to London on Wednesday, I shall certainly run up (the same +day, if I can) to see you before you again depart on Saturday, as your +letter proposes. {157} + +But I also write to beg you not to leave your Daughter for ever so short +a while, simply because you had so arranged, and told me of your +Arrangement. + +If this Note of mine reach you somehow to morrow, there will be plenty of +time for you to let me know whether you go or not: and, even if there be +not time before Wednesday, why, I shall take no harm in so far as I +really have a very little to do, and moreover shall see a poor Lady who +has just lost her husband, after nearly three years anxious and uncertain +watching, and now finds herself (brave and strong little Woman) somewhat +floored now the long conflict is over. These are the people I may have +told you of whom I have for some years met here and there in +Suffolk--chiefly by the Sea; and we somehow suited one another. {158} He +was a brave, generous, Boy (of sixty) with a fine Understanding, and +great Knowledge and Relish of Books: but he had applied too late in Life +to Painting which he could not master, though he made it his Profession. +A remarkable mistake, I always thought, in so sensible a man. + +Whether I find you next week, or afterward (for I promise to find you any +time you appoint) I hope to find you alone--for twenty years' Solitude +make me very shy: but always your sincere + +E. F.G. + + + + +LXII. + + +LITTLE GRANGE: WOODBRIDGE. _October_ 7, [1879] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +When I got home yesterday, and emptied my Pockets, I found the precious +Enclosure which I had meant to show, and (if you pleased) to give you. A +wretched Sketch (whether by me or another, I know not) of your Brother +John in some Cambridge Room, about the year 1832-3, when he and I were +staying there, long after Degree time--he, studying Anglo-Saxon, I +suppose--reading something, you see, with a glass of Ale on the table--or +old Piano-forte was it?--to which he would sing very well his German +Songs. Among them, + +{Music Score: p159.jpg} + +Do you remember? I afterwards associated it with some stray verses +applicable to one I loved. + + 'Heav'n would answer all your wishes, + Were it much as Earth is here; + Flowing Rivers full of Fishes, + And good Hunting half the Year.' + +Well:--here is the cause of this Letter, so soon after our conversing +together, face to face, in Queen Anne's Mansions. A strange little After- +piece to twenty years' Separation. + +And now, here are the Sweet Peas, and Marigolds, sown in the Spring, +still in a faded Blossom, and the Spirit that Tennyson told us of fifty +years ago haunting the Flower-beds, {160} and a Robin singing--nobody +else. + +And I am to lose my capital Reader, he tells me, in a Fortnight, no Book- +binding surviving under the pressure of Bad Times in little Woodbridge. +'My dear Fitz, there is no Future for little Country towns,' said Pollock +to me when he came here some years ago. + +But my Banker here found the Bond which he had considered unnecessary, +safe in his Strong Box:--and I am your sincere Ancient + +E. F.G. + +Burn the poor Caricature if offensive to you. The 'Alexander' profile +was become somewhat tarnished then. + + + + +LXIII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Oct._ 27, [1879.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I am glad to think that my Regard for you and yours, which I know to be +sincere, is of some pleasure to you. Till I met you last in London, I +thought you had troops of Friends at call; I had not reflected that by +far the greater number of them could not be Old Friends; and those you +cling to, I feel, with constancy. + +I and my company (viz. Crabbe, etc.) could divert you but little until +your mind is at rest about Mrs. Leigh. I shall not even now write more +than to say that a Letter from Mowbray, which tells of the kind way you +received him and his Brother, says also that his Father is well, and +expects Valentia and Spouse in November. + +This is all I will write. You will let me know by a line, I think, when +that which you wait for has come to pass. A Post Card with a few words +on it will suffice. + +You cross over your Address (as usual) but I do my best to find you. + +Ever yours +E. F.G. + + + + +LXIV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Octr._ [? _Nov._] 4/79. + +MY DEAR LADY:-- + +I need not tell you that I am very glad of the news your note of Sunday +tells me: and I take it as a pledge of old Regard that you told it me so +soon: even but an hour after that other Kemble was born. {161} + +I know not if the short letter which I addressed to 4 Everton Place, +Leamington (as I read it in your former Letter), reached you. Whatever +the place be called, I expect you are still there; and there will be for +some time longer. As there may be some anxiety for some little time, I +shall not enlarge as usual on other matters; if I do not hear from you, I +shall conclude that all is going on well, and shall write again. +Meanwhile, I address this Letter to London, you see, to make sure of you +this time: and am ever yours sincerely + +E. F.G. + +By the by, I think the time is come when, if you like me well enough, you +may drop my long Surname, except for the external Address of your letter. +It may seem, but is not, affectation to say that it is a name I dislike; +{162} for one reason, it has really caused me some confusion and trouble +with other more or less Irish bodies, being as common in Ireland as +'Smith,' etc., here--and particularly with 'Edward'--I suppose because of +the patriot Lord who bore [it]. I should not, even if I made bold to +wish so to do, propose to treat you in the same fashion; inasmuch as I +like your Kemble name, which has become as it were classical in England. + + + + +LXV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Nov._ 13/79. + +MY DEAR LADY, + +Now that your anxieties are, as I hope, over, and that you are returned, +as I suppose, to London, I send you a budget. First: the famous +_Belvidere Hat_; which I think you ought to stick into your Records. +{163a} Were I a dozen years younger, I should illustrate all the Book in +such a way; but, as my French song says, 'Le Temps est trop court pour de +si longs projets.' + +Next, you behold a Photo of Carlyle's Niece, which he bid her send me two +or three years ago in one of her half-yearly replies to my Enquiries. +What a shrewd, tidy, little Scotch Body! Then you have her last letter, +telling of her Uncle, and her married Self, and thanking me for a little +Wedding gift which I told her was bought from an Ipswich Pawnbroker +{163b}--a very good, clever fellow, who reads Carlyle, and comes over +here now and then for a talk with me. Mind, when you return me the +Photo, that you secure it around with your Letter paper, that the Postman +may not stamp into it. Perhaps this trouble is scarce worth giving you. + +'Clerke Sanders' has been familiar to me these fifty years almost; since +Tennyson used to repeat it, and 'Helen of Kirkconnel,' at some Cambridge +gathering. At that time he looked something like the Hyperion shorn of +his Beams in Keats' Poem: with a Pipe in his mouth. Afterwards he got a +touch, I used to say, of Haydon's Lazarus. Talking of Keats, do not +forget to read Lord Houghton's Life and Letters of him: in which you will +find what you may not have guessed from his Poetry (though almost +unfathomably deep in that also) the strong, masculine, Sense and Humour, +etc., of the man more akin to Shakespeare, I am tempted to think, in a +perfect circle of Poetic Faculties, than any Poet since. + +Well: the Leaves which hung on more bravely than ever I remember are at +last whirling away in a Cromwell Hurricane--(not quite that, neither)--and +my old Man says he thinks Winter has set in at last. We cannot complain +hitherto. Many summer flowers held out in my Garden till a week ago, +when we dug up the Beds in order for next year. So now little but the +orange Marigold, which I love for its colour (Irish and Spanish) and +Courage, in living all Winter through. Within doors, I am again at my +everlasting Crabbe! doctoring his Posthumous Tales _a la mode_ of those +of 'The Hall,' to finish a Volume of simple 'Selections' from his other +works: all which I will leave to be used, or not, whenever old Crabbe +rises up again: which will not be in the Lifetime of yours ever + +E. F.G. + +I dared not decypher all that Mrs. Wister wrote in my behalf--because I +knew it must be sincere! Would she care for my Eternal Crabbe? + + + + +LXVI. + + +[_Nov._ 1879.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I must say a word upon a word in your last which really pains me--about +yours and Mrs. Wister's sincerity, etc. Why, I do most thoroughly +believe in both; all I meant was that, partly from your own old personal +regard for me, and hers, perhaps inherited from you, you may both very +sincerely over-rate my little dealings with other great men's thoughts. +For you know full well that the best Head may be warped by as good a +Heart beating under it; and one loves the Head and Heart all the more for +it. Now all this is all so known to you that I am vexed you will not at +once apply it to what I may have said. I do think that I have had to say +something of the same sort before now; and I do declare I will not say it +again, for it is simply odious, all this talking of oneself. + +Yet one thing more. I did go to London on this last occasion purposely +to see you at that particular time: for I had not expected Mrs. Edwards +to be in London till a Fortnight afterward, until two or three days after +I had arranged to go and meet you the very day you arrived, inasmuch as +you had told me you were to be but a few days in Town. + +There--there! Only believe me; my sincerity, Madam; and--_Voila ce qui +est fait_. _Parlons_, etc. + +Well: Mrs. Edwards has opened an Exhibition of her husband's works in +Bond Street--contrary to my advice--and, it appears, rightly contrary: +for over 300 pounds of them were sold on the first private View day, +{166} and Tom Taylor, the great Art Critic (who neither by Nature nor +Education can be such, 'cleverest man in London,' as Tennyson once said +he was), has promised a laudatory notice in the omnipotent Times, and +then People will flock in like Sheep. And I am very glad to be proved a +Fool in the matter, though I hold my own opinion still of the merit of +the Picture part of the Show. Enough! as we Tragic Writers say: it is +such a morning as I would not have sacrificed indoors or in +letter-writing to any one but yourself, and on the subject named. + +BELIEVE ME YOURS SINCERELY. + + + + +LXVII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Decr._ 10, [1879.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +Pray let me know how you have fared thus far through Winter--which began +so early, and promises to continue so long. Even in Jersey Fred. +Tennyson writes me it is all Snow and N.E. wind: and he says the North of +Italy is blocked up with Snow. You may imagine that we are no better off +in the East of England. How is it in London, and with yourself in Queen +Anne's Mansions? I fancy that you walk up and down that ante-room of +yours for a regular time, as I force myself to do on a Landing-place in +this house when I cannot get out upon what I call my Quarter-deck: a walk +along a hedge by the upper part of a field which 'dominates' (as the +phrase now goes) over my House and Garden. But I have for the last +Fortnight had Lumbago, which makes it much easier to sit down than to get +up again. However, the time goes, and I am surprised to find Sunday come +round again. (Here is my funny little Reader come--to give me 'All the +Year Round' and Sam Slick.) + +_Friday_. + +I suppose I should have finished this Letter in the way it begins, but by +this noon's post comes a note from my Brother-in-law, De Soyres, telling +me that his wife Andalusia died yesterday. {168} She had somewhile +suffered with a weak Heart, and this sudden and extreme cold paralysed +what vitality it had. But yesterday I had posted her a Letter +re-enclosing two Photographs of her Grand Children whom she was very fond +and proud of; and that Letter is too late, you see. Now, none but Jane +Wilkinson and E. F.G. remain of the many more that you remember, and +always looked on with kindly regard. This news cuts my Letter shorter +than it would have been; nevertheless pray let me know how you yourself +are: and believe me yours + +Ever and truly, +E. F.G. + +I have had no thought of going to London yet: but I shall never go in +future without paying a Visit to you, if you like it. I know not how +Mrs. Edwards' Exhibition of her Husband's Pictures succeeds: I begged her +to leave such a scheme alone; I cannot admire his Pictures now he is gone +more than I did when he was here; but I hope that others will prove me to +be a bad adviser. + + + + +LXVIII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Jan._ 8/80. + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I think sufficient time has elapsed since my last letter to justify my +writing you another, which, you know, means calling on you to reply. When +last you wrote, you were all in Flannel; pray let me hear you now are. +Certainly, we are better off in weather than a month ago: but I fancy +these Fogs must have been dismal enough in London. A Letter which I have +this morning from a Niece in Florence tells me they have had 'London Fog' +(she says) for a Fortnight there. She says, that my sister Jane (your +old Friend) is fairly well in health, but very low in Spirits after that +other Sister's Death. I will [not] say of myself that I have weathered +away what Rheumatism and Lumbago I had; nearly so, however; and tramp +about my Garden and Hedgerow as usual. And so I clear off Family scores +on my side. Pray let me know, when you tell of yourself, how Mrs. Leigh +and those on the other side of the Atlantic fare. + +Poor Mrs. Edwards, I doubt, is disappointed with her Husband's Gallery: +not because of its only just repaying its expenses, except in so far as +that implies that but few have been to see it. She says she feels as if +she had nothing to live for, now that 'her poor Old Dear' is gone. One +fine day she went down to Woking where he lies, and--she did not wish to +come back. It was all solitary, and the grass beginning to spring, and a +Blackbird or two singing. She ought, I think, to have left London, as +her Doctor told her, for a total change of Scene; but she may know best, +being a very clever, as well as devoted little Woman. + +Well--you saw 'The Falcon'? {169} Athenaeum and Academy reported of it +much as I expected. One of them said the Story had been dramatised +before: I wonder why. What reads lightly and gracefully in Boccaccio's +Prose, would surely not do well when drawn out into dramatic Detail: two +People reconciled to Love over a roasted Hawk; about as unsavoury a Bird +to eat as an Owl, I believe. No doubt there was a Chicken substitute at +St. James', but one had to believe it to be Hawk; and, anyhow, I have +always heard that it is very difficult to eat, and talk, on the +Stage--though people seem to manage it easily enough in real Life. + +By way of a Christmas Card I sent Carlyle's Niece a Postage one, directed +to myself, on the back of which she might [write] a few words as to how +he and herself had weathered the late Cold. She replied that he was +well: had not relinquished his daily Drives: and was (when she wrote) +reading Shakespeare and Boswell's Hebrides. The mention of him reminds +me of your saying--or writing--that you felt shy of 'intruding' yourself +upon him by a Visit. My dear Mrs. Kemble, this is certainly a mistake +(wilful?) of yours; he may have too many ordinary Visitors; but I am +quite sure that he would be gratified at your taking the trouble to go +and see him. Pray try, weather and flannel permitting. + +I find some good Stuff in Bagehot's Essays, in spite of his name, which +is simply 'Bagot,' as men call it. Also, I find Hayward's Select Essays +so agreeable that I suppose they are very superficial. + +At night comes my quaint little Reader with Chambers' Journal, and All +[the] Year Round--the latter with one of Trollope's Stories {171}--always +delightful to me, and (I am told) very superficial indeed, as compared to +George Eliot, whom I cannot relish at all. + +Thus much has come easily to my pen this day, and run on, you see, to the +end of a second Sheet. So I will 'shut up,' as young Ladies now say; but +am always and sincerely yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +LXIX. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Febr_: 3/80. + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I do not think it is a full month since I last taxed you for some account +of yourself: but we have had hard weather, you know, ever since: your +days have been very dark in London, I am told, and as we have all been +wheezing under them, down here, I want to know how you stand it all. I +only hope my MS. is not very bad; for I am writing by Candle, before my +Reader comes. He eat such a Quantity of Cheese and Cake between the Acts +that he could scarce even see to read at all after; so I had to remind +him that, though he was not quite sixteen, he had much exceeded the years +of a Pig. Since which we get on better. I did not at all like to have +my Dombey spoiled; especially Captain Cuttle, God bless him, and his +Creator, now lying in Westminster Abbey. The intended Pathos is, as +usual, missed: but just turn to little Dombey's Funeral, where the +Acrobat in the Street suspends his performance till the Funeral has +passed, and his Wife wonders if the little Acrobat in her Arms will so +far outlive the little Boy in the Hearse as to wear a Ribbon through his +hair, following his Father's Calling. It is in such Side-touches, you +know, that Dickens is inspired to Create like a little God Almighty. I +have read half his lately published letters, which, I think, add little +to Forster's Account, unless in the way of showing what a good Fellow +Dickens was. Surely it does not seem that his Family were not fond of +him, as you supposed? + +I have been to Lowestoft for a week to see my capital Nephew, Edmund +Kerrich, before he goes to join his Regiment in Ireland. I wish you +could see him make his little (six years old) put him through his Drill. +That is worthy of Dickens: and I am always yours sincerely--and I do hope +not just now very illegibly-- + +LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +LXX. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Febr_: 12/80. + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +A week ago I had a somewhat poor account of Donne from Edith D.--that he +had less than his usually little Appetite, and could not sleep without +Chloral. This Account I at first thought of sending to you: but then I +thought you would soon be back in London to hear [of] him yourself; so I +sent it to his great friend Merivale, who, I thought, must have less +means of hearing about him at Ely. I enclose you this Dean's letter: +which you will find worth the trouble of decyphering, as all this Dean's +are. And you will see there is a word for you which you will have to +interpret for me. What is the promised work he is looking for so +eagerly? {173} Your Records he 'devoured' a Year ago, as a letter of his +then told me; and I suppose that his other word about the number of your +Father's house refers to something in those Records. I am not surprised +at such an Historian reading your Records: but I was surprised to find +him reading Charles Mathews' Memoir, as you will see he has been doing. I +told him I had been reading it: but then that is all in my line. Have +you? No, I think: nor I, by the way, quite half, and that in Vol. +ii.--where is really a remarkable account of his getting into Managerial +Debt, and its very grave consequences. + +I hear that Mr. Lowell is coming Ambassador to England, after a very +terrible trial in nursing (as he did) his Wife: who is only very slowly +recovering Mind as well as Body. I believe I wrote all this to you +before, as also that I am ever yours + +E. F.G. + +I cannot remember Pangloss in Candide: only a Pedant Optimist, I think, +which became the _soubriquet_ of Maupertuis' _Akakia_ Optimism; but I +have not the book, and do not want to have it. + + + + +LXXI. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _March_ 1, [1880.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I am something like my good old friend Bernard Barton, who would +begin--and end--a letter to some one who had just gone away from his +house. I should not mind that, only you will persist in answering what +calls for no answer. But the enclosed came here To-day, and as I might +mislay it if I waited for my average time of writing to you, I enclose it +to you now. It shows, at any rate, that I do not neglect your Queries; +nor does he to whom I refer what I cannot answer myself. {174} + +This Wright edits certain Shakespeare Plays for Macmillan: very well, I +fancy, so far as Notes go; simply explaining what needs explanation for +young Readers, and eschewing all _aesthetic_ (now, don't say you don't +know what 'aesthetic' means, etc.) aesthetic (detestable word) +observation. With this the Swinburnes, Furnivalls, Athenaeums, etc., +find fault: and a pretty hand they make of it when they try that tack. It +is safest surely to give people all the _Data_ you can for forming a +Judgment, and then leave them to form it by themselves. + +You see that I enclose you the fine lines {175} which I believe I +repeated to you, and which I wish you to paste on the last page of my +Crabbe, so as to be a pendant to Richard's last look at the Children and +their play. I know not how I came to leave it out when first printing: +for certainly the two passages had for many years run together in my +Memory. + +Adieu, Madame: non pas pour toujours, j'espere; pas meme pour long temps. +Cependant, ne vous genez pas, je vous prie, en repondant a une lettre qui +ne vaut--qui ne reclame pas meme--aucune reponse: tandis que vous me +croyez votre tres devoue + +EDOUARD DE PETITGRANGE. + + + + +LXXII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _March_ 26, [1880.] + +MY DEAR LADY: + +The Moon has reminded me that it is a month since I last went up to +London. I said to the Cabman who took me to Queen Anne's, 'I think it +must be close on Full Moon,' and he said, 'I shouldn't wonder,' not +troubling himself to look back to the Abbey over which she was riding. +Well; I am sure I have little enough to tell you; but I shall be glad to +hear from you that you are well and comfortable, if nothing else. And +you see that I am putting my steel pen into its very best paces all for +you. By far the chief incident in my life for the last month has been +the reading of dear old Spedding's Paper on the Merchant of Venice: {176} +there, at any rate, is one Question settled, and in such a beautiful way +as only he commands. I could not help writing a few lines to tell him +what I thought; but even very sincere praise is not the way to conciliate +him. About Christmas I wrote him, relying on it that I should be most +likely to secure an answer if I expressed dissent from some other work of +his; and my expectation was justified by one of the fullest answers he +had written to me for many a day and year. + +I read in one of my Papers that Tennyson had another Play accepted at the +Lyceum. I think he is obstinate in such a purpose, but, as he is a Man +of Genius, he may surprise us still by a vindication of what seem to me +several Latter-day failures. I suppose it is as hard for him to +relinquish his Vocation as other men find it to be in other callings to +which they have been devoted; but I think he had better not encumber the +produce of his best days by publishing so much of inferior quality. + +Under the cold Winds and Frosts which have lately visited us--and their +visit promises to be a long one--my garden Flowers can scarce get out of +the bud, even Daffodils have hitherto failed to 'take the winds,' etc. +Crocuses early nipt and shattered (in which my Pigeons help the winds) +and Hyacinths all ready, if but they might! + +My Sister Lusia's Widower has sent me a Drawing by Sir T. Lawrence of my +Mother: bearing a surprising resemblance to--The Duke of Wellington. This +was done in her earlier days--I suppose, not long after I was born--for +her, and his (Lawrence's) friend Mrs. Wolff: and though, I think, too +Wellingtonian, the only true likeness of her. Engravings were made of +it--so good as to be facsimiles, I think--to be given away to Friends. I +should think your mother had one. If you do not know it, I will bring +the Drawing up with me to London when next I go there: or will send it up +for your inspection, if you like. But I do not suppose you will care for +me to do that. + +Here is a much longer letter than I thought for; I hope not troublesome +to your Eyes--from yours always and sincerely + +LITTLEGRANGE. + +I have been reading Comus and Lycidas with wonder, and a sort of awe. +Tennyson once said that Lycidas was a touchstone of poetic Taste. + + + + +LXXIII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _March_ 28, [1880.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +No--the Flowers were not from me--I have nothing full-blown to show +except a few Polyanthuses, and a few Pansies. These Pansies never throve +with me till last year: after a Cartload or two of Clay laid on my dry +soil, I suppose, the year before. Insomuch that one dear little Soul has +positively held on blowing, more or less confidently, all winter through; +when even the Marigold failed. + +Now, I meant to have intimated about those Flowers in a few French words +on a Postcard--purposely to prevent your answering--unless your rigorous +Justice could only be satisfied by a Post Card in return. But I was not +sure how you might like my Card; so here is a Letter instead; which I +really do beg you, as a favour, not to feel bound to answer. A time will +come for such a word. + +By the by, you can make me one very acceptable return, I hope with no +further trouble than addressing it to me. That 'Nineteenth Century' for +February, with a Paper on 'King John' (your Uncle) in it. {179} Our +Country Bookseller has been for three weeks getting it for me--and now +says he cannot get it--'out of print.' I rather doubt that the Copy I +saw on your Table was only lent to you; if so, take no more trouble about +it; some one will find me a Copy. + +I shall revolve in my own noble mind what you say about Jessica and her +Jewels: as yet, I am divided between you, and that old Serpent, Spedding. +Perhaps 'That is only his Fancy,' as he says of Shylock. What a light, +graceful, way of saying well-considered Truth! + +I doubt you are serious in reminding me of my Tumbler on the Floor; and, +I doubt not, quite right in being so. This comes of one's living so long +either with no Company, or with only free and easy. But I am always the +same toward you, whether my Tumbler in the right place or not, + +THE LAIRD OF LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +LXXIV. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _April_ 6, [1880.] {180a} + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I hope my letter, and the Magazine which accompanies it, will not reach +you at a time when you have family troubles to think about. You can, +however, put letter and Magazine aside at once, without reading either; +and, anyhow, I wish once more--in vain, I suppose--that you would not +feel bound to acknowledge them. + +I think this Atlantic, {180b} which I took in so long as you were +embarked on it, was sent me by Mr. Norton, to whom I had sent my Crabbe; +and he had, I suppose, shown it to Mr. Woodberry, the Critic. And the +Critic has done his work well, on the whole, I think: though not quite up +to my mark of praise, nor enough to create any revival of Interest in the +Poems. You will see that I have made two or three notes by the way: but +you are still less bound to read them than the text. + +If you be not bothered, I shall ask you to return me the Magazine. I +have some thought of taking it in again, as I like to see what goes on in +the literary way in America, and I found their critics often more +impartial in their estimation of English Authors than our own Papers are, +as one might guess would be the case. + +I was, and am, reading your Records again, before this Atlantic came to +remind me of you. I have Bentley's second Edition. I feel the Dullness +of that Dinner Party in Portland Place {181a} (I know it was) when Mrs. +Frere sang. She was somewhile past her prime then (1831), but could sing +the Classical Song, or Ballad, till much later in Life. Pasta too, whom +you then saw and heard! I still love the pillars of the old Haymarket +Opera House, where I used to see placarded MEDEA IN CORINTO. {181b} + +And I am still yours sincerely +LITTLEGRANGE. + +You are better off in London this black weather. + +P.S. Since my letter was written, I receive the promised one from +Mowbray: his Father well: indeed, in better health and Spirits than +usual: and going with Blanche to Southwell on Wednesday (to-morrow) +fortnight. + +His London house almost, if not quite, out of Quarantine. But--do not +go! say I. + + + + +LXXV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _April_ 23, [1880.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I was really sorry to hear from you that you were about to move again. I +suppose the move has been made by this time: as I do not know whither, I +must trouble Coutts, I suppose, to forward my Letter to you; and then you +will surely tell me your new Address, and also how you find yourself in +it. + +I have nothing to report of myself, except that I was for ten days at +Lowestoft in company (though not in the house) with Edward Cowell the +Professor: with whom, as in last Autumn, I read, and all but finished, +the second part of Don Quixote. There came Aldis Wright to join us; and +he quite agrees with what you say concerning the Jewel-robbery in the +Merchant of Venice. He read me the Play; and very well; thoroughly +understanding the text: with clear articulation, and the moderate +emphasis proper to room-reading; with the advantage also of never having +known the Theatre in his youth, so that he has not picked up the twang of +any Actor of the Day. Then he read me King John, which he has some +thoughts of editing next after Richard III. And I was reminded of you at +Ipswich twenty-eight years ago; and of your Father--his look up at +Angiers' Walls as he went out in Act ii. I wonder that Mrs. Siddons +should have told Johnson that she preferred Constance to any of +Shakespeare's Characters: perhaps I misremember; she may have said Queen +Catharine. {183a} I must not forget to thank you for the Nineteenth +Century from Hatchard's; Tieck's Article very interesting to me, and I +should suppose just in its criticism as to what John Kemble then was. I +have a little print of him about the time: in OEdipus--(whose Play, I +wonder, on such a dangerous subject?) from a Drawing by that very clever +Artist De Wilde: who never missed Likeness, Character, and Life, even +when reduced to 16mo Engraving. {183b} + +What you say of Tennyson's Eyes reminded me that he complained of the +Dots in Persian type flickering before them: insomuch that he gave up +studying it. This was some thirty years ago. Talking on the subject one +day to his Brother Frederick, he--(Frederick)--said he thought possible +that a sense of the Sublime was connected with Blindness: as in Homer, +Milton, and Handel: and somewhat with old Wordsworth perhaps; though his +Eyes were, I think, rather weak than consuming with any inward Fire. + +I heard from Mr. Norton that Lowell had returned to Madrid in order to +bring his Wife to London--if possible. She seems very far from being +recovered; and (Norton thinks) would not have recovered in Spain: so +Lowell will have one consolation for leaving the land of Cervantes and +Calderon to come among the English, whom I believe he likes little better +than Hawthorne liked them. + +I believe that yesterday was the first of my hearing the Nightingale; +certainly of hearing _my_ Nightingale in the trees which I planted, +'hauts comme ca,' as Madame de Sevigne says. I am positively about to +read her again, 'tout Madame de Sevigne,' as Ste. Beuve said. {184a} What +better now Spring is come? {184b} She would be enjoying her Rochers just +now. And I think this is a dull letter of mine; but I am always +sincerely yours + +E. DE PETITGRANGE. + + + + +LXXVI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _May_ 25/80. + +MY DEAR LADY, + +Another full Moon reminds [me] of my monthly call upon you by Letter--a +call to be regularly returned, I know, according to your Etiquette. As +so it must be, I shall be very glad to hear that you are better than when +you last wrote, and that some, if not all, of the 'trouble' you spoke of +has passed away. I have not heard of Donne since that last letter of +yours: but a Post Card from Mowbray, who was out holyday-making in +Norfolk, tells me that he will write as soon as he has returned to +London, which, I think, must be about this very time. + +I shall be sorry if you do not get your annual dose of Mountain Air; why +can you not? postponing your visit to Hampshire till Autumn--a season +when I think those who want company and comfort are most glad of it. But +you are determined, I think, to do as you are asked: yes, even the more +so if you do not wish it. And, moreover, you know much more of what is +fittest to do than I. + +A list of Trench's works in the Academy made me think of sending him my +Crabbe; which I did: and had a very kind answer from him, together with a +Copy of a second Edition of his Calderon Essay and Translation. He had +not read any Crabbe since he was a Lad: what he may think of him now I +know not: for I bid him simply acknowledge the receipt of my Volume, as I +did of his. I think much the best way, unless advice is wanted on either +side before publication. + +If you write--which you will, unless--nay, whether troubled or not, I +think--I should like to hear if you have heard anything of Mr. Lowell in +London. I do not write to him for fear of bothering him: but I wish to +know that his Wife is recovered. I have been thinking for some days of +writing a Note to Carlyle's Niece, enclosing her a Post Card to be +returned to me with just a word about him and herself. A Card only: for +I do not know how occupied she may be with her own family cares by this +time. + +I have re-read your Records, in which I do not know that I find any too +much, as I had thought there was of some early Letters. Which I believe +I told you while the Book was in progress. {186} It is, I sincerely say, +a capital Book, and, as I have now read it twice over with pleasure, and +I will say, with Admiration--if but for its Sincerity (I think you will +not mind my saying that much)--I shall probably read it over again, if I +live two years more. I am now embarked on my blessed Sevigne, who, with +Crabbe, and John Wesley, seem to be my great hobbies; or such as I do not +tire of riding, though my friends may weary of hearing me talk about +them. + +By the by, to-morrow is, I think, Derby Day; which I remember chiefly for +its marking the time when Hampton Court Chestnuts were usually in full +flower. You may guess that we in the Country here have been gaping for +rain to bring on our Crops, and Flowers; very tantalising have been many +promising Clouds, which just dropped a few drops by way of Compliment, +and then passed on. But last night, when Dombey was being read to me we +heard a good splash of rain, and Dombey was shut up that we might hear, +and see, and feel it. {187} I never could make out who wrote two lines +which I never could forget, wherever I found them:-- + + 'Abroad, the rushing Tempest overwhelms + Nature pitch dark, and rides the thundering elms.' + +Very like Glorious John Dryden; but many others of his time wrote such +lines, as no one does now--not even Messrs. Swinburne and Browning. + +And I am always your old Friend, with the new name of + +LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +LXXVII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _June_ 23, [1880.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +You smile at my 'Lunacies' as you call my writing periods; I take the +Moon as a signal not to tax you too often for your inevitable answer. I +have now let her pass her Full: and June is drawing short: and you were +to be but for June at Leamington: so--I must have your answer, to tell me +about your own health (which was not so good when last you wrote) and +that of your Family; and when, and where, you go from Leamington. I +shall be sorry if you cannot go to Switzerland. + +I have been as far as--Norfolk--on a week's visit (the only visit of the +sort I now make) to George Crabbe, my Poet's Grandson, and his two +Granddaughters. It was a very pleasant visit indeed; the people all so +sensible, and friendly, talking of old days; the Country flat indeed, but +green, well-wooded, and well-cultivated: the weather well enough. {188a} + +I carried there two volumes of my Sevigne: and even talked of going over +to Brittany, only to see her Rochers, as once I went to Edinburgh only to +see Abbotsford. But (beside that I probably should not have gone further +than talking in any case) a French Guide Book informed me that the +present Proprietor of the place will not let it be shown to Strangers who +pester him for a view of it, on the strength of those 'paperasses,' as he +calls her Letters. {188b} So this is rather a comfort to me. Had I +gone, I should also have visited my dear old Frederick Tennyson at +Jersey. But now I think we shall never see one another again. + +Spedding keeps on writing Shakespeare Notes in answer to sundry Theories +broached by others: he takes off copies of his MS. by some process he has +learned; and, as I always insist on some Copy of all he writes, he has +sent me these, which I read by instalments, as Eyesight permits. I +believe I am not a fair Judge between him and his adversaries; first, +because I have but little, if any, faculty of critical Analysis; and +secondly, because I am prejudiced with the notion that old Jem is +Shakespeare's Prophet, and must be right. But, whether right or wrong, +the way in which he conducts, and pleads, his Case is always Music to me. +So it was even with Bacon, with whom I could not be reconciled: I could +not like Dr. Fell: much more so with 'the Divine Williams,' who is a +Doctor that I do like. + +It has turned so dark here in the last two days that I scarce see to +write at my desk by a window which has a hood over it, meant to +exclude--the Sun! I have increased my Family by two broods of Ducks, who +compete for the possession of a Pond about four feet in diameter: and but +an hour ago I saw my old Seneschal escorting home a stray lot of +Chickens. My two elder Nieces are with me at present, but I do not think +will be long here, if a Sister comes to them from Italy. + +Pray let me hear how you are. I am pretty well myself:--though not quite +up to the mark of my dear Sevigne, who writes from her Rochers when close +on sixty--'Pour moi, je suis d'une si parfaite sante, que je ne comprends +point ce que Dieu veut faire de moi.' {190} + +But yours always and a Day, +LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +LXXVIII. + + +[WOODBRIDGE, _July_ 24, 1880.] + +'Il sera le mois de Juillet tant qu'il plaira a Dieu' writes my friend +Sevigne--only a week more of it now, however. I should have written to +my friend Mrs. Kemble before this--in defiance of the Moon--had I not +been waiting for her Address from Mowbray Donne, to whom I wrote more +than a fortnight ago. I hope no ill-health in himself, or his Family, +keeps him from answering my Letter, if it ever reached him. But I will +wait no longer for his reply: for I want to know concerning you and your +health: and so I must trouble Coutts to fill up the Address which you +will not instruct me in. + +Here (Woodbridge) have I been since last I wrote--some Irish Cousins +coming down as soon as English Nieces had left. Only that in the week's +interval I went to our neighbouring Aldeburgh on the Sea--where I first +saw, and felt, the Sea some sixty-five years ago; a dreary place enough +in spite of some Cockney improvements: my old Crabbe's Borough, as you +may remember. I think one goes back to the old haunts as one grows old: +as the Chancellor l'Hopital said when he returned to his native +Bourdeaux, I think: 'Me voici, Messieurs,' returned to die, as the Hare +does, in her ancient 'gite.' {191} I shall soon be going to Lowestoft, +where one of my Nieces, who is married to an Italian, and whom I have not +seen for many years, is come, with her Boy, to stay with her Sisters. + +Whither are you going after you leave Hampshire? You spoke in your last +letter of Scarboro': but I still think you will get over to Switzerland. +One of my old Friends--and Flames--Mary Lynn (pretty name) who is of our +age, and played with me when we both were Children--at that very same +Aldeburgh--is gone over to those Mountains which you are so fond of: +having the same passion for them as you have. I had asked her to meet me +at that Aldeburgh--'Aldbro''--that we might ramble together along that +beach where once we played; but she was gone. + +If you should come to Lowestoft instead of Scarbro', we, if you please, +will ramble together too. But I do not recommend the place--very ugly--on +a dirty Dutch Sea--and I do not suppose you would care for any of my +People; unless it were my little Niece Annie, who is a delightful +Creature. + +I see by the Athenaeum that Tom Taylor is dead {192a}--the 'cleverest Man +in London' Tennyson called him forty years ago. Professor Goodwin, of +the Boston Cambridge, is in England, and made a very kind proposal to +give me a look on his travels. But I could not let him come out of his +way (as it would have been) for any such a purpose. {192b} He wrote that +Mrs. Lowell was in better health: residing at Southampton, which you knew +well near fifty years ago, as your Book tells. Mr. Lowell does not write +to me now; nor is there reason that he should. + +Please to make my remembrances to Mr. Sartoris, who scarcely remembers +me, but whose London House was very politely opened to me so many years +ago. Anyhow, pray let me hear of yourself: and believe me always yours +sincerely + +THE LAIRD OF LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +LXXIX. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Friday_, [30 _July_, 1880.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I send you Mowbray's reply to my letter of nearly three weeks ago. No +good news of his Father--still less of our Army (news to me told to-day) +altogether a sorry budget to greet you on your return to London. But the +public news you knew already, I doubt not: and I thought as well to tell +you of our Donne at once. + +I suppose one should hardly talk of anything except this Indian Calamity: +{193} but I am selfish enough to ignore, as much as I can, such Evils as +I cannot help. + +I think that Tennyson in calling Tom Taylor the 'cleverest man,' etc., +meant pretty much as you do. I believe he said it in reply to something +I may have said that was less laudatory. At one time Tennyson almost +lived with him and the Wigans whom I did not know. Taylor always seemed +to me as 'clever' as any one: was always very civil to me: but one of +those toward whom I felt no attraction. He was too clever, I think. As +to Art, he knew nothing of it then, nor (as he admits) up to 1852 or +thereabout, when he published his very good Memoir of Haydon. I think he +was too 'clever' for Art also. + +Why will you write of 'If you _bid_ me come to Lowestoft in October,' +etc., which, you must know, is just what I should not ask you to do: +knowing that, after what you say, you would come, if asked, were--(a Bull +begins here)--were it ever so unlikely for you. I am going thither next +week, to hear much (I dare say) of a Brother in Ireland who may be called +to India; and am + +Ever yours sincerely, +LITTLEGRANGE. + +Why won't you write to me from Switzerland to say where a Letter may find +you? If not, the Harvest Moon will pass! + + + + +LXXX. + + +IVY HOUSE, LOWESTOFT: +_Septr._ 20, {194} [1880.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Here is a second Full Moon since last I wrote--(Harvest Moon, I think). I +knew not where to direct to you before, and, as you remain determined not +to apprize me yourself, so I have refused to send through Coutts. You do +not lose much. + +Here have been for nearly two months Five English Nieces clustered round +a Sister who married an Italian, and has not been in England these dozen +years. She has brought her Boy of six, who seems to us wonderfully +clever as compared to English Children of his Age, but who, she tells us, +is counted rather behind his Fellows in Italy. Our meeting has been what +is called a 'Success'--which will not be repeated, I think. She will go +back to her adopted Country in about a month, I suppose. Do you know of +any one likely to be going that way about that time? + +Some days ago, when I was sitting on the Pier, rather sad at the +Departure [of] a little Niece--an abridgment of all that is pleasant--and +good--in Woman--Charles Merivale accosted me--he and his good, +unaffected, sensible, wife, and Daughter to match. He was looking well, +and we have since had a daily stroll together. We talked of you, for he +said (among the first things he did say) that he had been reading your +Records again: so I need not tell you his opinion of them. He saw your +Uncle in Cato when he was about four years old; and believes that he (J. +P. K.) had a bit of red waistcoat looking out of his toga, by way of +Blood. I tell him he should call on you and clear up that, and talk on +many other points. + +Mowbray Donne wrote me from Wales a month ago that his Father was going +on pretty well. I asked for further from Mowbray when he should have +returned from Wales: but he has not yet written. Merivale, who is one of +Donne's greatest Friends, has not heard of him more lately than I. + +Now, my dear Mrs. Kemble, I want to hear of you from yourself: and I have +told you why it is that I have not asked you before. I fancy that you +will not be back in England when this Letter reaches Westminster: but I +fancy that it will not be long before you find it waiting on your table +for you. + +And now I am going to look for the Dean, who, I hope, has been at Church +this morning: and though I have not done that, I am not the less +sincerely yours + +E. F.G. + + + + +LXXXI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Octr._ 20, 1880. + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I was to have gone to London on Monday with my Italian Niece on her way +homeward. But she feared saying 'Farewell' and desired me to let her set +off alone, to avoid doing so. + +Thus I delay my visit to you till November--perhaps toward the middle of +it: when I hope to find you, with your blue and crimson Cushions {197} in +Queen Anne's Mansions, as a year ago. Mrs. Edwards is always in town: +not at all forgetful of her husband; and there will be our Donne also of +whom I hear nothing, and so conclude there is nothing to be told, and +with him my Visits will be summed up. + +Now, lose not a Day in providing yourself with Charles Tennyson Turner's +Sonnets, published by Kegan Paul. There is a Book for you to keep on +your table, at your elbow. Very many of the Sonnets I do not care for: +mostly because of the Subject: but there is pretty sure to be some +beautiful line or expression in all; and all pure, tender, noble, +and--original. Old Spedding supplies a beautiful Prose Overture to this +delightful Volume: never was Critic more one with his Subject--or, +Object, is it? Frederick Tennyson, my old friend, ought to have done +something to live along with his Brothers: all who _will_ live, I +believe, of their Generation: and he perhaps would, if he could, have +confined himself to limits not quite so narrow as the Sonnet. But he is +a Poet, and cannot be harnessed. + +I have still a few flowers surviving in my Garden; and I certainly never +remember the foliage of trees so little changed in October's third week. +A little flight of Snow however: whose first flight used to quicken my +old Crabbe's fancy: Sir Eustace Grey written under such circumstances. +{198} + +And I am always yours +LITTLEGRANGE + +(not 'Markethill' as you persist in addressing me.) + + + + +LXXXII. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _Novr._ 17/80. + +MY DEAR LADY, + +Here is the Moon very near her Full: so I send you a Letter. I have it +in my head you are not in London: and may not be when I go up there for a +few days next week--for this reason I think so: viz., that you have not +acknowledged a Copy of Charles Tennyson's Sonnets, which I desired Kegan +Paul to send you, as from me--with my illustrious Initials on the Fly +Leaf: and, he or one of his men, wrote that so it should be, or had been +done. It may nevertheless not have been: or, if in part done, the +illustrious Initials forgotten. But I rather think the Book was sent: +and that you would have guessed at the Sender, Initials or not. And as I +know you are even over-scrupulous in acknowledging any such things, I +gather that the Book came when you had left London--for Leamington, very +likely: and that there you are now. The Book, and your Acknowledgment of +it, will very well wait: but I wish to hear about yourself--as also about +yours--if you should be among them. I talk of 'next week,' because one +of my few Visitors, Archdeacon Groome, is coming the week after that, I +believe, for a day or two to my house: and, as he has not been here for +two years, I do not wish to be out of the way. + +A Letter about a fortnight ago from Mowbray Donne told me that his Father +was fairly well: and a Post Card from Mowbray two days ago informed [me] +that Valentia was to be in London this present week. But I have wanted +to be here at home all this time: I would rather see Donne when he is +alone: and I would rather go to London when there is more likelihood of +seeing you there than now seems to me. Of course you will not in the +slightest way hasten your return to London (if now away from it) for my +poor little Visits: but pray let me hear from you, and believe me always +the same + +E. F.G. + + + + +LXXXIII. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Decr._ 6, [1880.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I was surprised to see a Letter in your MS. which could not be in answer +to any of mine. But the Photos account for it. Thank you: I keep that +which I like best, and herewith return the other. + +Why will you take into your head that I could suppose you wanting in +Hospitality, or any other sort of Generosity! That, at least, is not a +Kemble failing. Why, I believe you would give me--and a dozen +others--1000 pounds if you fancied one wanted it--even without being +asked. The Law of Mede and Persian is that you _will_ take up--a +perverse notion--now and then. There! It's out. + +As to the Tea--'pure and simple'--with Bread and Butter--it is the only +meal I do care to join in:--and this is why I did not see Mowbray Donne, +who has not his Dinner till an hour and a half after my last meal is +done. + +I should very gladly have 'crushed a Cup of Tea' with you that last +Evening, coming prepared so to do. But you had Friends coming; and so +(as Mrs. Edwards was in the same plight) I went to the Pit of my dear old +Haymarket Opera: {200} remembering the very corner of the Stage where +Pasta stood when Jason's People came to tell her of his new Marriage; and +(with one hand in her Girdle--a movement (Mrs. Frere said) borrowed from +Grassini) she interrupted them with her "Cessate--intesi!"--also when +Rubini, feathered hat in hand, began that "Ah te, oh Cara"--and Taglioni +hovered over the Stage. There was the old Omnibus Box too where D'Orsay +flourished in ample white Waistcoat and Wristbands: and Lady +Blessington's: and Lady Jersey's on the Pit tier: and my own Mother's, +among the lesser Stars, on the third. In place of all which I dimly saw +a small Company of less distinction in all respects; and heard an Opera +(_Carmen_) on the Wagner model: very beautiful Accompaniments to no +Melody: and all very badly sung except by Trebelli, who, excellent. I +ran out in the middle to the dear Little Haymarket opposite--where +Vestris and Liston once were: and found the Theatre itself spoilt by +being cut up into compartments which marred the beautiful Horse-shoe +shape, once set off by the flowing pattern of Gold which used to run +round the house. + +Enough of these Old Man's fancies--But--Right for all that! + +I would not send you Spedding's fine Article {201a} till you had returned +from your Visit, and also had received Mrs. Leigh at Queen Anne's. You +can send it back to me quite at your leisure, without thinking it +necessary to write about it. + +It is so mild here that the Thrush sings a little, and my Anemones seem +preparing to put forth a blossom as well as a leaf. Yesterday I was +sitting on a stile by our River side. + +You will doubtless see Tennyson's new Volume, {201b} which is to my +thinking far preferable to his later things, though far inferior to those +of near forty years ago: and so, I think, scarce wanted. There is a bit +of Translation from an old War Song which shows what a Poet can do when +he condescends to such work: and I have always said that 'tis for the old +Poets to do some such service for their Predecessors. I hope this long +letter is tolerably legible: and I am in very truth + +Sincerely yours +THE LAIRD OF LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +LXXXIV. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _Christmas Day_, [1880.] + +MY DEAR LADY: + +You are at Leamington for this day, I expect: but, as I am not sure of +your address there, I direct to Queen Anne as usual. This very morning I +had a letter from my dear George Crabbe, telling me that he has met your +friend Mr. H. Aide at Lord Walsingham's, the Lord of G. C.'s parish: and +that Mr. Aide had asked him (G. C.) for his copy of my Crabbe. I should +have been very glad to give him one had he, or you, mentioned to me that +he had any wish for the book: I am only somewhat disappointed that so few +do care to ask for it. + +I am here all alone for my Christmas: which is not quite my own fault. A +Nephew, and a young London clerk, were to have come, but prevented; even +my little Reader is gone to London for his Holyday, and left me with Eyes +more out of _Kelter_ {202} than usual to entertain myself with. 'These +are my troubles, Mr. Wesley,' as a rich man complained to him when his +Servant put too many Coals on the fire. {203a} On Friday, Aldis Wright +comes for two days, on his road to his old home Beccles: and I shall +leave him to himself with Books and a Cigar most part of the Day, and +make him read Shakespeare of a night. He is now editing Henry V. for +what they call the Clarendon Press. He still knows nothing of Mr. +Furness, who, he thinks, must be home in America long ago. + +Spedding writes me that Carlyle is now so feeble as to be carried up and +down stairs. But very 'quiet,' which is considered a bad sign; but, as +Spedding says, surely much better than the other alternative, into which +one of Carlyle's temperament might so probably have fallen. Nay, were it +not better for all of us? Mr. Froude is most constantly with him. + +If this Letter is forwarded you, I know that it will not be long before I +hear from you. And you know that I wish to hear that all is well with +you, and that I am always yours + +E. F.G. + +How is Mr. Sartoris? And I see a Book of _hers_ advertised. {203b} + + + + +LXXXV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Jan._ 17, [1881.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +The Moon has passed her Full: but my Eyes have become so troubled since +Christmas that I have not written before. All Christmas I was alone: +Aldis Wright came to me on New Year's Day, and read to me, among many +other things, 'Winter's Tale' which we could not take much delight in. No +Play more undoubtedly, nor altogether, Shakespeare's, but seeming to me +written off for some 'occasion' theatrical, and then, I suppose that Mrs. +Siddons made much of the Statue Scene. + +I cannot write much, and I fancy that you will not care to read much, if +you are indeed about to leave Queen Anne. That is a very vexatious +business. You will probably be less inclined to write an answer to my +letter, than to read it: but answer it you will: and you need trouble +yourself to say no more than how you are, and where, and when, you are +going, if indeed you leave where you are. And do not cross your letter, +pray: and believe me always your sincere old friend + +E. F.G. + + + + +LXXXVI. + + +[_Feb._, 1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY: + +I expected to send you a piece of Print as well as a Letter this Full +Moon. {205} But the Print is not come from the Printer's: and perhaps +that is as well: for now you can thank me for it beforehand when you +reply (as I know you will) to this Letter--and no more needs to be said. +For I do [not] need your Advice as to Publication in this case; no such +Design is in my head: on the contrary, not even a Friend will know of it +except yourself, Mr. Norton, and Aldis Wright: the latter of whom would +not be of the party but that he happened to be here when I was too +purblind to correct the few Proofs, and very kindly did so for me. As +for Mr. Norton (America), he it was for whom it was printed at all--at +his wish, he knowing the MS. had been lying by me unfinisht for years. It +is a Version of the two OEdipus Plays of Sophocles united as two Parts of +one Drama. I should not send it to you but that I feel sure that, if you +are in fair health and spirits, you will be considerably interested in +it, and probably give me more credit for my share in it than I deserve. +As I make sure of this you see there will be no need to say anything more +about it. The Chorus part is not mine, as you will see; but probably +quite as good. Quite enough on that score. + +I really want to know how you like your new Quarters in dear _old_ +London: how you are; and whether relieved from Anxiety concerning Mr. +Leigh. It was a Gale indeed, such as the oldest hereabout say they do +not remember: but it was all from the East: and I do not see why it +should have travelled over the Atlantic. + +If you are easy on that account, and otherwise pretty well in mind and +Body, tell me if you have been to see the Lyceum 'Cup' {206a} and what +you make of it. Somebody sent me a Macmillan {206b} with an Article +about it by Lady Pollock; the extracts she gave seemed to me a somewhat +lame imitation of Shakespeare. + +I venture to think--and what is more daring--to write, that my Eyes are +better, after six weeks' rest and Blue Glasses. But I say so with due +regard to my old Friend Nemesis. + +I have heard nothing about my dear Donne since you wrote: and you only +said that you had not _heard_ a good account of him. Since then you +have, I doubt not, seen as well as heard. But, now that I see better +(Absit Invidia!) I will ask Mowbray. + +It is well, I think, that Carlyle desired to rest (as I am told he did) +where he was born--at Ecclefechan, from which I have, or had, several +Letters dated by him. His Niece, who had not replied to my note of +Enquiry, of two months ago, wrote to me after his Death. + +Now I have written enough for you as well as for myself: and am yours +always the same + +LITTLEGRANGE. * + +* 'What foppery is this, sir?'--_Dr. Johnson_. + + + + +LXXXVII. + + +[_Feb._, 1881.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:-- + +As you generally return a Salute so directly, I began to be alarmed at +not hearing from you sooner--either that you were ill, or your Daughter, +or some ill news about Mr. Leigh. I had asked one who reads the +Newspapers, and was told there had been much anxiety as to the Cunard +Ship, which indeed was only just saved from total Wreck. But all is well +so far as you and yours are concerned; and I will sing 'Gratias' along +with you. + +Mowbray Donne wrote to tell me that he and his had provided for some man +to accompany our dear old Friend in his walks; and, as he seems himself +to like it, all is so far well in that quarter also. + +I was touched with the account of Carlyle's simple Obsequies among his +own Kinsfolk, in the place of his Birth--it was fine of him to settle +that so it should be. I am glad also that Mr. Froude is charged with his +Biography: a Gentleman, as well as a Scholar and 'Writer of Books,' who +will know what to leave unsaid as well as what to say. + +Your account of 'The Cup' is what I should have expected from you: and, +if I may say so, from myself had I seen it. + +And with this Letter comes my Sophocles, of which I have told you what I +expect you will think also, and therefore need not say--unless of a +different opinion. It came here I think the same Day on which I wrote to +tell you it had not come: but I would not send it until assured that all +was well with you. Such corrections as you will find are not meant as +Poetical--or rather Versifying--improvements, but either to clear up +obscurity, or to provide for some modifications of the two Plays when +made, as it were, into one. Especially concerning the Age of OEdipus: +whom I do not intend to be the _old_ man in Part II. as he appears in the +original. For which, and some other things, I will, if Eyes hold, send +you some printed reasons in an introductory Letter to Mr. Norton, at +whose desire I finished what had been lying in my desk these dozen years. + +As I said of my own AEschylus Choruses, I say of old Potter's now: better +just to take a hint from them of what they are about--or imagine it for +yourself--and then imagine, or remember, some grand Organ piece--as of +Bach's Preludes--which will be far better Interlude than Potter--or I--or +even (as I dare think) than Sophocles' self! + +And so I remain your ancient Heretic, + +LITTLE G. + +The newly printed Part II. would not bear Ink. + + + + +LXXXVIII. + + +[_Feb._, 1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +Pray keep the Book: I always intended that you should do so if you liked +it: and, as I believe I said, I was sure that like it you would. I did +not anticipate how much: but am all the more glad: and (were I twenty +years younger) should be all the more proud; even making, as I do, a +little allowance for your old and constant regard to the Englisher. The +Drama is, however, very skilfully put together, and very well versified, +although that not as an original man--such as Dryden--would have +versified it: I will, by and by, send you a little introductory letter to +Mr. Norton, explaining to him, a Greek Scholar, why I have departed from +so much of the original: 'little' I call the Letter, but yet so long that +I did not wish him, or you, to have as much trouble in reading, as I, +with my bad Eyes, had in writing it: so, as I tell him--and you--it must +go to the Printers along with the Play which it prates about. + +I think I once knew why the two Cities in Egypt and Boeotia were alike +named Thebes; and perhaps could now find out from some Books now stowed +away in a dark Closet which affrights my Eyes to think of. But any of +your learned friends in London will tell you, and probably more +accurately than Paddy. I cannot doubt but that Sphinx and heaps more of +the childish and dirty mythology of Greece came from Egypt, and who knows +how far beyond, whether in Time or Space! + +Your Uncle, the great John, did enact OEdipus in some Tragedy, by whom I +know not: I have a small Engraving of him in the Character, from a +Drawing of that very clever artist De Wilde; {210} but this is a heavy +Likeness, though it may have been a true one of J. K. in his latter +years, or in one of his less inspired--or more asthmatic--moods. This +portrait is one of a great many (several of Mrs. Siddons) in a Book I +have--and which I will send you if you would care to see it: plenty of +them are rubbish such as you would wonder at a sensible man having ever +taken the trouble to put together. But I inherit a long-rooted Affection +for the Stage: almost as real a World to me as Jaques called it. Of +yourself there is but a Newspaper Scrap or two: I think I must have cut +out and given you what was better: but I never thought any one worth +having except Sir Thomas', which I had from its very first Appearance, +and keep in a large Book along with some others of a like size: Kean, +Mars, Talma, Duchesnois, etc., which latter I love, though I heard more +of them than I saw. + +Yesterday probably lighted you up once again in London, as it did us down +here. 'Richard' thought he began to feel himself up to his Eyes again: +but To-day all Winter again, though I think I see the Sun resolved on +breaking through the Snow clouds. My little Aconites--which are +sometimes called 'New Year Gifts,' {211a} have almost lived their little +Lives: my Snowdrops look only too much in Season; but we will hope that +all this Cold only retards a more active Spring. + +I should not have sent you the Play till Night had I thought you would +sit up that same night to read it. Indeed, I had put it away for the +Night Post: but my old Hermes came in to say he was going into Town to +market, and so he took it with him to Post. + +Farewell for the present--till next Full Moon? I am really glad that all +that Atlantic worry has blown over, and all ended well so far as you and +yours are concerned. And I am always your ancient + +LITTLE G. + + + + +LXXXIX. {211b} + + +[_March_, 1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +It was very, very good and kind of you to write to me about Spedding. +Yes: Aldis Wright had apprised me of the matter just after it happened--he +happening to be in London at the time; and but two days after the +accident heard that Spedding was quite calm, and even cheerful; only +anxious that Wright himself should not be kept waiting for some +communication which S. had promised him! Whether to live, or to die, he +will be Socrates still. + +Directly that I heard from Wright, I wrote to Mowbray Donne to send me +just a Post Card--daily if he or his wife could--with but one or two +words on it--'Better,' 'Less well,' or whatever it might be. This +morning I hear that all is going on even better than could be expected, +according to Miss Spedding. But I suppose the Crisis, which you tell me +of, is not yet come; and I have always a terror of that French +Adage--'_Monsieur se porte mal_--_Monsieur se porte mieux_--_Monsieur +est_'--Ah, you know--or you guess, the rest. + +My dear old Spedding, though I have not seen him these twenty years and +more--and probably should never see him again--but he lives--his old +Self--in my heart of hearts; and all I hear of him does but embellish the +recollection of him--if it could be embellished--for he is but the same +that he was from a Boy--all that is best in Heart and Head--a man that +would be incredible had one not known him. + +I certainly should have gone up to London--even with Eyes that will +scarce face the lamps of Woodbridge--not to see him, but to hear the +first intelligence I could about him. But I rely on the Postcard for but +a Night's delay. Laurence, Mowbray tells me, had been to see him, and +found him as calm as had been reported by Wright. But the Doctors had +said that he should be kept as quiet as possible. + +I think, from what Mowbray also says, that you may have seen our other +old Friend Donne in somewhat worse plight than usual because of his being +much shocked at this Accident. He would feel it indeed!--as you do. + +I had even thought of writing to tell you of all this, but could not but +suppose that you were more likely to know of it than myself; though +sometimes one is greatly mistaken with those 'of course you knows, +etc.'--But you have known it all: and have very kindly written of it to +me, whom you might also have supposed already informed of it: but you +took the trouble to write, not relying on 'of course you know, etc.' + +I have thought lately that I ought to make some enquiry about Arthur +Malkin, who was always very kind to me. I had meant to send him my +Crabbe, who was a great favourite of his Father's, 'an excellent +companion for Old Age' he told--Donne, I think. But I do not know if I +ever did send him the Book, and now, judging by what you tell me, it is +too late to do so, unless for Compliment. + +The Sun, I see, has put my Fire out--for which I only thank him, and will +go to look for him himself in my Garden--only with a Green Shade over my +Eyes. I must get to London to see you before you move away to +Leamington; when I can bear Sun or Lamp without odious blue Glasses, etc. +I dare to think those Eyes are better, though not Sun-proof: and I am +ever yours + +LITTLE G. + + + + +XC. {214} + + +20 _March_, [1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I have let the Full Moon pass because I thought you had written to me so +lately, and so kindly, about our lost Spedding, that I would not call on +you too soon again. Of him I will say nothing except that his Death has +made me recall very many passages in his Life in which I was partly +concerned. In particular, staying at his Cumberland Home along with +Tennyson in the May of 1835. 'Voila bien long temps de ca!' His Father +and Mother were both alive--he, a wise man, who mounted his Cob after +Breakfast, and was at his Farm till Dinner at two--then away again till +Tea: after which he sat reading by a shaded lamp: saying very little, but +always courteous, and quite content with any company his Son might bring +to the house so long as they let him go his way: which indeed he would +have gone whether they let him or no. But he had seen enough of Poets +not to like them or their Trade: Shelley, for a time living among the +Lakes: Coleridge at Southey's (whom perhaps he had a respect for--Southey, +I mean), and Wordsworth, whom I do not think he valued. He was rather +jealous of 'Jem,' who might have done available service in the world, he +thought, giving himself up to such Dreamers; and sitting up with Tennyson +conning over the Morte d'Arthur, Lord of Burleigh, and other things which +helped to make up the two Volumes of 1842. So I always associate that +Arthur Idyll with Basanthwaite Lake, under Skiddaw. Mrs. Spedding was a +sensible, motherly Lady, with whom I used to play Chess of a Night. And +there was an old Friend of hers, Mrs. Bristow, who always reminded me of +Miss La Creevy, if you know of such a Person in Nickleby. + +At the end of May we went to lodge for a week at Windermere--where +Wordsworth's new volume of Yarrow Revisited reached us. W. was then at +his home: but Tennyson would not go to visit him: and of course I did +not: nor even saw him. + +You have, I suppose, the Carlyle Reminiscences: of which I will say +nothing except that, much as we outsiders gain by them, I think that, on +the whole, they had better have been kept unpublished--for some while at +least. As also thinks Carlyle's Niece, who is surprised that Mr. Froude, +whom her Uncle trusted above all men for the gift of Reticence, should +have been in so much hurry to publish what was left to his Judgment to +publish or no. But Carlyle himself, I think, should have stipulated for +Delay, or retrenchment, if publisht at all. + +Here is a dull and coldish Day after the fine ones we have had--which +kept me out of doors as long as they lasted. Now one turns to the +Fireside again. To-morrow is Equinox Day; when, if the Wind should +return to North East, North East will it blow till June 21, as we all +believe down here. My Eyes are better, I presume to say: but not what +they were even before Christmas. Pray let me hear how you are, and +believe me ever the same + +E. F.G. + +Oh! I doubted about sending you what I yet will send, as you already have +what it refers to. It really calls for no comment from any one who does +not know the Greek; those who do would probably repudiate it. + + + + +XCI. {216a} + + +[_April_, 1881.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Somewhat before my usual time, you see, but Easter {216b} comes, and I +shall be glad to hear if you keep it in London, or elsewhere. Elsewhere +there has been no inducement to go until To-day: when the Wind, though +yet East, has turned to the Southern side of it: one can walk without any +wrapper; and I dare to fancy we have turned the corner of Winter at last. +People talk of changed Seasons: only yesterday I was reading in my dear +old Sevigne, how she was with the Duke and Duchess of Chaulnes at their +Chateau of Chaulnes in Picardy all but two hundred years ago; that is in +1689: and the green has not as yet ventured to show its 'nez' nor a +Nightingale to sing. {217} You see that I have returned to her as for +some Spring Music, at any rate. As for the Birds, I have nothing but a +Robin, who seems rather pleased when I sit down on a Bench under an Ivied +Pollard, where I suppose he has a Nest, poor little Fellow. But we have +terrible Superstitions about him here; no less than that he always kills +his Parents if he can: my young Reader is quite determined on this head: +and there lately has been a Paper in some Magazine to the same effect. + +My dear old Spedding sent me back to old Wordsworth too, who sings (his +best songs, I think) about the Mountains and Lakes they were both +associated with: and with a quiet feeling he sings, that somehow comes +home to me more now than ever it did before. + +As to Carlyle--I thought on my first reading that he must have been +'_egare_' at the time of writing: a condition which I well remember +saying to Spedding long ago that one of his temperament might likely fall +into. And now I see that Mrs. Oliphant hints at something of the sort. +Hers I think an admirable Paper: {218} better than has yet been written, +or (I believe) is likely to be written by any one else. Merivale, who +wrote me that he had seen you, had also seen Mrs. Procter, who was vowing +vengeance, and threatening to publish letters from Carlyle to Basil +Montagu full of 'fulsome flattery'--which I do not believe, and should +not, I am sorry to say, unless I saw it in the original. I forget now +what T. C. says of him: (I have lent the Book out)--but certainly Barry +Cornwall told Thackeray he was 'a humbug'--which I think was no uncommon +opinion: I do not mean dishonest: but of pretension to Learning and +Wisdom far beyond the reality. I must think Carlyle's judgments mostly, +or mainly, true; but that he must have 'lost his head,' if not when he +recorded them, yet when he left them in any one's hands to decide on +their publication. Especially when not about Public Men, but about their +Families. It is slaying the Innocent with the Guilty. But of all this +you have doubtless heard in London more than enough. 'Pauvre et triste +humanite!' One's heart opens again to him at the last: sitting alone in +the middle of her Room--'I want to die'--'I want--a Mother.' 'Ah, Mamma +Letizia!' Napoleon is said to have murmured as he lay. By way of pendant +to this, recurs to me the Story that when Ducis was wretched his mother +would lay his head on her Bosom--'Ah, mon homme, mon pauvre homme!' + +Well--I am expecting Aldis Wright here at Easter: and a young London +Clerk (this latter I did invite for his short holiday, poor Fellow!). +Wright is to read me 'The Two Noble Kinsmen.' + +And now I have written more than enough for yourself and me: whose Eyes +may be the worse for it to-morrow. I still go about in Blue Glasses, and +flinch from Lamp and Candle. Pray let me know about your own Eyes, and +your own Self; and believe me always sincerely yours + +LITTLEGRANGE. + +I really was relieved that you did not write to thank me for the poor +flowers which I sent you. They were so poor that I thought you would +feel bound so to do, and, when they were gone, repented. I have now some +gay Hyacinths up, which make my pattypan Beds like China Dishes. + + + + +XCII. {219} + + +[_April_, 1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY: + +This present Letter calls for no answer--except just that which perhaps +you cannot make it. If you have that copy of Plays revised by John the +Great which I sent, or brought, you, I wish you would cause your Maid to +pack it in brown Paper, and send it by Rail duly directed to me. I have +a wish to show it to Aldis Wright, who takes an Interest in your Family, +as in your Prophet. If you have already dismissed the Book elsewhere--not +much liking, I think, the stuff which J. K. spent so much trouble on, I +shall not be surprised, nor at all aggrieved: and there is not much for +A. W. to profit by unless in seeing what pains your noble Uncle took with +his Calling. + +It has been what we call down here 'smurring' rather than raining, all +day long: and I think that Flower and Herb already show their gratitude. +My Blackbird (I think it is the same I have tried to keep alive during +the Winter) seems also to have 'wetted his Whistle,' and what they call +the 'Cuckoo's mate,' with a rather harsh scissor note, announces that his +Partner may be on the wing to these Latitudes. You will hear of him at +Mr. W. Shakespeare's, it may be. There must be Violets, white and blue, +somewhere about where he lies, I think. They are generally found in a +Churchyard, where also (the Hunters used to say) a Hare: for the same +reason of comparative security, I suppose. + +I am very glad you agree with me about Mrs. Oliphant. That one paper of +hers makes me wish to read her Books. + +You must somehow, or somewhile, let me know your Address in Leamington, +unless a Letter addressed to Cavendish Square will find you there. Always +and truly yours + +LITTLE G. + + + + +XCIII. {221} + + +_May_ 8, [1881.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +You will not break your Law, though you have done so once--to tell me of +Spedding--But now you will not--nor let me know your Address--so I must +direct to you at a venture: to Marshall Thompson's, whither I suppose you +will return awhile, even if you be not already there. I think, however, +that you are not there yet. If still at Leamington, you look upon a +sight which I used to like well; that is, the blue Avon (as in this +weather it will be) running through buttercup meadows all the way to +Warwick--unless those Meadows are all built over since I was there some +forty years ago. + +Aldis Wright stayed with me a whole week at Easter: and we did very well. +Much Shakespeare--especially concerning that curious Question about the +Quarto and Folio Hamlets which people are now trying to solve by Action +as well as by Discussion. Then we had The Two Noble Kinsmen--which +Tennyson and other Judges were assured has much of W. S. in it. Which +parts I forget, or never heard: but it seemed to me that a great deal of +the Play might be his, though not of his best: but Wright could find him +nowhere. + +Miss Crabbe sent me a Letter from Carlyle's Niece, cut out from some +Newspaper, about her Uncle's MS. Memoir, and his written words concerning +it. Even if Froude's explanation of the matter be correct, he ought to +have still taken any hesitation on Carlyle's part as sufficient proof +that the MS. were best left unpublisht: or, at any rate, great part of +it. If you be in London, you will be wearied enough with hearing about +this. + +I am got back to my--Sevigne!--who somehow returns to me in Spring: fresh +as the Flowers. These latter have done but badly this Spring, cut off or +withered by the Cold: and now parched up by this blazing Sun and dry +Wind. If you get my letter, pray answer it and tell me how you are: and +ever believe me yours + +LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +XCIV. + + +_May_, [1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +If I did not write (as doubtless I ought) to acknowledge the Playbook, I +really believe that I thought you would have felt bound to answer my +acknowledgment! It came all right, thank you: and A. Wright looked it +over: and it has been lying ready to be returned to you whenever you +should be returned to London. I assure you that I wish you to keep it, +unless it be rather unacceptable than otherwise; I never thought you +would endure the Plays themselves; only that you might be interested in +your brave Uncle's patient and, I think, just, revision of them. This +was all I cared for: and wished to show to A. W. as being interested in +all that concerns so noble an Interpreter of his Shakespeare as your +Uncle was. If you do not care--or wish--to have the Book again, tell me +of some one you would wish to have it: had I wished, I should have told +you so at once: but I now give away even what I might have wished for to +those who are in any way more likely to be more interested in them than +myself, or are likely to have a few more years of life to make what they +may of them. I do not think that A. W. is one of such: he thought (as +you may do) of so much pains wasted on such sorry stuff. + +So far from disagreeing with you about Shakespeare emendations, etc., I +have always been of the same mind: quite content with what pleased +myself, and, as to the elder Dramatists, always thinking they would be +better all annihilated after some Selections made from them, as C. Lamb +did. + +Mowbray Donne wrote to me a fortnight or so since that his Father was +'pretty well,' but weak in the knees. Three days ago came in Archdeacon +Groome, who told me that a Friend of Mowbray's had just heard from him +that his Father had symptoms of dropsy about the Feet and Ankles. I have +not, however, written to ask; and, not having done so, perhaps ought not +to sadden you with what may be an inaccurate report. But one knows that, +sooner or later, some such end must come; and that, in the meanwhile, +Donne's Life is but little preferable to that which promises the speedier +end to it. + +We are all drying up here with hot Sun and cold Wind; my Water-pot won't +keep Polyanthus and Anemone from perishing. I should have thought the +nightly Frosts and Winds would have done for Fruit as well as Flower: but +I am told it is not so as yet: and I hope for an honest mess of +Gooseberry Fool yet. In the meanwhile, 'Ce sera le mois de Mai tant +qu'il plaira a Dieu,' and I am always your ancient + +LITTLE G. + + + + +XCV. + + +WOODBRIDGE: TUESDAY: +[_End of May_, 1881.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +I must write you a word of 'God Speed' before you go: before even you go +to London to prepare for going: for, if I wait till then, you will be all +bother with preparations, and leave-takings; and nevertheless feel +yourself bound to answer. Pray do not, even if (as I suppose) still at +Leamington; for you will still have plenty to think about with Daughter +and Children. I do not propose to go to London to shake hands before you +go off: for, as I say, you will have enough of that without me--and my +blue Spectacles, which I can only discard as yet when looking on the +Grass and young Leaves. + +I duly sent your Book to Henry Kemble, as you desired: and received a +very polite Note from him in acknowledgment. + +And now my house is being pulled about my Ears by preparations for my +Nieces next week. And, instead of my leaving the coast clear to Broom +and Dust-pan, I believe that Charles Keene will be here from Friday to +Monday. As he has long talked of coming, I do not like to put him off +now he has really proposed to come, and we shall scramble on somehow. And +I will get a Carriage and take him a long Drive into the Country where it +is greenest. He is a very good fellow, and has lately lost his Mother, +to whom he was a very pious Son; a man who can _reverence_, although a +Droll in _Punch_. + +You will believe that I wish you all well among your Mountains. George +Crabbe has been (for Health's sake) in Italy these last two months, and +wrote me his last Note from the Lago Maggiore. My Sister Jane Wilkinson +talks of coming over to England this Summer: but I think her courage will +fail her when the time comes. If ever you should go to, or near, +Florence, she would be sincerely glad to see you, and to talk over other +Days. She is not at all obtrusively religious: and I think must have +settled abroad to escape some of the old Associations in which she took +so much part, to but little advantage to herself or others. + +You know that I cannot write to you when you are abroad unless you tell +me whither I am to direct. And you probably will not do that: but I do +not, and shall [not] cease to be yours always and truly + +E. F.G. + + + + +XCVI. + + +[_Nov._ 1881.] + +MY DEAR LADY: + +I was not quite sure, from your letter, whether you had received mine +directed to you in the Cavendish Square Hotel:--where your Nephew told me +you were to be found. It is no matter otherwise than that I wish you to +know that I had not only enquired if you were returned from abroad, but +had written whither I was told you were to be found. Of which enough. + +I am sorry you are gone again to Westminster, to which I cannot reconcile +myself as to our old London. Even Bloomsbury recalls to me the pink May +which used to be seen in those old Squares--sixty years ago. But 'enfin, +voila qui est fait.' You know where that comes from. I have not lately +been in company with my old dear: Annie Thackeray's Book {227a} is a +pretty thing for Ladies in a Rail carriage; but my old Girl is scarce +half herself in it. And there are many inaccuracies, I think. Mais +enfin, voila, etc. + +Athenaeum and Academy advertise your Sequel to Records. {227b} I need +not tell you that I look forward to it. I wish you would insert that +capital Paper on Dramatic and Theatrical from the Cornhill. {227c} It +might indeed very properly, as I thought, have found a place in the +Records. + +Mowbray Donne wrote me a month ago that his Father was very feeble: one +cannot expect but that he will continue to become more and more so. I +should run up to London to see him, if I thought my doing so would be any +real comfort to him: but _that_ only his Family can be to him: and I +think he may as little wish to exhibit his Decay to an old Friend, who so +long knew him in a far other condition, as his friend might wish to see +him so altered. This is what I judge from my own feelings. + +I have only just got my Garden laid up for the winter, and planted some +trees in lieu of those which that last gale blew down. I hear that +Kensington Gardens suffered greatly: how was it with your Green Park, on +which you now look down from such a height, and, I suppose, through a +London Fog? + +Ever yours +LITTLE G. + + + + +XCVII. + + +[_Dec._ 1881.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +I _will_ write to you before 1881 is gone, carrying Christmas along with +him. A dismal Festivity it always seems to me--I dare say not much +merrier to you. I think you will tell me where, and with whom, you pass +it. My own company are to be, Aldis Wright, with whom Shakespeare, etc., +a London Clerk, may be--that is, if he can get sufficient Holyday--and +one or two Guests for the Day. + +I forget if I wrote to you since I had a letter from Hallam Tennyson, +telling me of a Visit that he and his Father had been making to +Warwickshire and Sherwood. The best news was that A. T. was 'walking and +working as usual.' + +Why, what is become of your Sequel? I see no more advertisement of it in +Athenaeum and Academy--unless it appears in the last, which I have not +conned over. Somehow I think it not impossible--or even unlikely--that +you--may--have--withdrawn--for some reason of your own. You see that I +speak with hesitation--meaning no offence--and only hoping for my own, +and other sakes that I am all astray. + +We are reading Nigel, which I had not expected to care for: but so far as +I got--four first Chapters--makes me long for Night to hear more. That +return of Richie to his Master, and dear George Heriot's visit just +after! Oh, Sir Walter is not done for yet by Austens and Eliots. If one +of his Merits were not his _clear Daylight_, one thinks, there ought to +be Societies to keep his Lamp trimmed as well as--Mr. Browning. He is +The Newest Shakespeare Society of Mr. Furnivall. + +The Air is so mild, though windy, that I can even sit abroad in the +Sunshine. I scarce dare ask about Donne; neither you, nor Mowbray--I +dare say I shall hear from the latter before Christmas. What you wrote +convinced me there was no use in going up only to see him--or little +else--so painful to oneself and so little cheering to him! I do think +that he is best among his own. + +But I do not forget him--'No!'--as the Spaniards say. Nor you, dear Mrs. +Kemble, being your ancient Friend (with a new name) LITTLEGRANGE! + +What would you say of the OEdipus, not of Sophocles, but of Dryden and +Nat Lee, in which your uncle acted! + +P.S. You did not mention anything about your Family, so I conclude that +all is well with them, both in England and America. + +I wish you would just remember me to Mr. H. Aide, who was very courteous +to me when I met him in your room. + +This extra Paper is, you see, to serve instead of crossing my Letter. + + + + +XCVIII. {230} + + +[_Feb._ 1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +This week I was to have been in London--for the purpose of seeing--or +offering to see--our dear Donne. For, when they told him of my offer, he +said he should indeed like it much--'if he were well enough.' Anyhow, I +can but try, only making him previously understand that he is not to make +any effort in the case. He is, they tell me, pleased with any such mark +of remembrance and regard from his old Friends. And I should have +offered to go before now, had I not judged from your last account of him +that he was better left with his Family, for his own sake, as well [as] +for that of his Friends. However, as I said, I should have gone up on +Trial even now, but that I have myself been, and am yet, suffering with +some sort of Cold (I think, from some indications, Bronchial) which would +ill enable me to be of any use if I got to London. I can't get warm, in +spite of Fires, and closed doors, so must wait, at any rate, to see what +another week will do for me. + +I shall, of course, make my way to Queen Anne's, where I should expect to +find you still busy with your Proof-sheets, which I am very glad to hear +of as going on. What could have put it into my head even to think +otherwise? Well, more unlikely things might have happened--even with +Medes and Persians. I do not think you will be offended at my vain +surmises. + +I see my poor little Aconites--'New Year's Gifts'--still surviving in the +Garden-plot before my window; 'still surviving,' I say, because of their +having been out for near a month agone. I believe that Messrs. Daffodil, +Crocus and Snowdrop are putting in appearance above ground: but (old +Coward) I have not put my own old Nose out of doors to look for them. + +I read (Eyes permitting) the Correspondence between Goethe and Schiller +(translated) from 1798 to 1806 {231}--extremely interesting to me, though +I do not understand--and generally skip--the more purely AEsthetic Part: +which is the Part of Hamlet, I suppose. But, in other respects, two such +men so freely discussing together their own, and each other's, works +interest me greatly. At Night, we have The Fortunes of Nigel; a little +of it--and not every night: for the reason that I do not wish to eat my +Cake too soon. The last night but one I sent my Reader to see Macbeth +played by a little 'Shakespearian' company at a Lecture Hall here. He +brought me one new Reading--suggested, I doubt not, by himself, from a +remembrance of Macbeth's tyrannical ways: 'Hang out our _Gallows_ on the +outward walls.' Nevertheless, the Boy took great Interest in the Play; +and I like to encourage him in Shakespeare, rather than in the Negro +Melodists. + +Such a long Letter as I have written (and, I doubt, ill written) really +calls for Apology from me, busy as you may be with those Proofs. But +still believe me sincerely yours + +Though Laird of LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +XCIX. + + +[_Feb._ 1882.] + +MY DEAR LADY:-- + +The same Post which brought me your very kind Letter, brought me also the +enclosed. + +The writer of it--Mr. Schutz Wilson--a _Litterateur general_--I +believe--wrote up Omar Khayyam some years ago, and, I dare say, somewhat +hastened another (and so far as I am concerned) final Edition. Of his +Mr. Terriss I did not know even by name, till Mr. Wilson told me. So now +you can judge and act as you see fit in the matter. + +If Terriss and Schutz W. fail in knowing your London 'habitat,' you see +that the former makes amends in proposing to go so far as Cheltenham to +ask advice of you. Our poor dear Donne would have been so glad, and so +busy, in telling what he could in the matter--if only in hope of keeping +up your Father's Tradition. + +I am ashamed to advert to my own little ailments, while you, I doubt not, +are enduring worse. I should have gone to London last week had I +believed that a week earlier or later mattered; as things are, I will not +reckon on going before next week. I want to be well enough to 'cut +about' and see the three friends whom I want to see--yourself among the +number. + +Blakesley (Lincoln's Dean) goes to stay in London next week, and hopes to +play Whist in Weymouth Street. + +Kegan Paul, etc., publish dear Spedding's 'Evenings,' {233} etc., and +never was Book more worth reading--and buying. I think I understand your +weariness in bringing out your Book: but many will be the Gainers:--among +them yours always + +LITTLEG. + + + + +C. + + +[_Feb._ 1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +I have quoted, and sent to Mr. Schutz Wilson, just thus much of your +Letter, leaving his Friend to judge whether it is sufficiently +encouraging to invite him to call on you. I suppose it is: but I thought +safest to give your _ipsissima verba_. + +'It is so perfectly easy for any one in London to obtain my Address, that +I think I may leave the future Mercutio to do so at his leisure or +pleasure.' + +I dare say you are pretty much indifferent whether he ventures or not; if +he does, I can only hope that he is a Gentleman, and if he be so, I do +not think you will be sorry to help him in trying to keep up your +Father's traditionary excellence in the part, and to save Mr. Terriss--to +save Mercutio--from the contagion of Mr. Irving's treatment of +Shakespeare--so far as I have seen of it--which is simply two acts of +Hamlet. + +As I told you, I know nothing--even hitherto heard nothing of Mr. +Terriss. His friend, S. Wilson, I have never seen neither. And I hope +you will think I have done fairly well in my share of the Business. + +Fanny Kerrich, my Niece, and a capital Woman, comes to me to-day, not +more for the purpose of seeing myself, than my Brother's Widow who lives +alone in a dismal place three miles off. {234a} I am still wheezy, and +want to get in order so as to visit my few friends in London next week. +{234b} + +You see there is no occasion for you to answer this: for, even if I have +done amiss, it is past recall; and I am none the less ancient Friend + +LITTLEG.! + + + + +CI. + + +[_March_, 1882.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +It is very kind of you to break through your rule of Correspondence, that +you may tell me how it was with you that last Evening. I was aware of no +'stupidity' on your side: I only saw that you were what you called 'a +little tired, and unwell.' Had I known how much, I should of course have +left you with a farewell shake of hands at once. And in so far I must +blame you. But I blame myself for rattling on, not only then, but +always, I fear, in a manner that you tell me (and I thank you for telling +me) runs into occasional impertinence--which no length of acquaintance +can excuse, especially to a Lady. You will think that here is more than +enough of this. But pray do you also say no more about it. I know that +you regard me very kindly, as I am sure that I do you, all the while. + +And now I have something to say upon something of a like account; about +that Mr. Schutz Wilson, who solicited an Introduction to you for his +Mercutio, and then proposed to you to avail _himself_ of it. That I +thought he had better have waited for, rather than himself proposed; and +I warned you that I had been told of his being somewhat of a 'prosateur' +at his Club. You, however, would not decline his visit, and would +encourage him, or not, as you saw fit. + +And now the man has heaped coals of fire on my head. Not content with +having formerly appraised that Omar in a way that, I dare say, advanced +him to another Edition: he (S.W.) now writes me that he feels moved to +write in favour of another Persian who now accompanies Omar in his last +Avatar! I have told him plainly that he had better not employ time and +talent on what I do not think he will ever persuade the Public to care +about--but he thinks he will. {236} He may very likely cool upon it: +but, in the meanwhile, such are his good Intentions, not only to the +little Poem, but, I believe, to myself also--personally unknown as we are +to one another. Therefore, my dear Lady, though I cannot retract what I +told you on such authority as I had,--nevertheless, as you were so far +prejudiced in his favour because of such service as he formerly was to +me, I feel bound to tell you of this fresh offer on his part: so that, as +you were not unwilling to receive him on trial before, you may not be +less favourably disposed toward him now; in case he should call--which I +doubt not he will do; though be pleased to understand that I have no more +encouraged him to do so now than at first I did. + +What a long Story!--I still chirp a little in my throat; but go my ways +abroad by Night as well as by Day: even sitting out, as only last night I +did. The S.W. wind that is so mild, yet sweeps down my garden in a way +that makes havoc of Crocus and Snowdrop; Messrs. Daffodil and Hyacinth +stand up better against it. + +I hear that Lord Houghton has been partly paralysed; but is up again. +Thompson, Master of Trinity, had a very slight attack of it some months +ago; I was told Venables had been ill, but I know not of what, nor how +much; and all these my contemporaries; and I, at any rate, still yours as +ever + +E. F.G. + + + + +CII. + + +LITTLEGRANGE: WOODBRIDGE, +_March_ 31, [1882.] + +DEAR MRS. KEMBLE:-- + +It is not yet full Moon: {237a}--but it is my 74th Birthday: and you are +the only one whom I write to on that great occasion. A good Lady near +here told me she meant to pay me a visit of congratulation: and I begged +her to stay at home, and neither say, nor write, anything about it. I do +not know that [I] have much to say to you now that I am inspired; but it +occurred to me that you might be going away somewhere for Easter, and so +I would try to get a word from you concerning yourself before you left +London. + +_The Book_? 'Ready immediately' advertised Bentley near a fortnight ago: +to-morrow's Academy or Athenaeum will perhaps be talking of it to-morrow: +of all which you will not read a word, I 'guess.' I think you will get +out of London for Easter, if but to get out of the way. Or are you too +indifferent even for that? + +Satiated as you may have been with notices and records of Carlyle, do, +nevertheless, look at Wylie's Book {237b} about him: if only for a Scotch +Schoolboy's account of a Visit to him not long before he died, and also +the words of his Bequest of Craigenputtock to some Collegiate Foundation. +Wylie (of whom I did not read all, or half) is a Worshipper, but not a +blind one. He says that Scotland is to be known as the 'Land of Carlyle' +from henceforward. One used to hear of the 'Land of Burns'--then, I +think, 'of Scott.' + +There is already a flush of Green, not only on the hedges, but on some of +the trees; all things forwarder, I think, by six weeks than last year. +Here is a Day for entering on seventy-four! But I do think, +notwithstanding, that I am not much the better for it. The Cold I had +before Christmas, returns, or lurks about me: and I cannot resolve on my +usual out-of-door liberty. Enough of that. I suppose that I shall have +some Company at Easter; my poor London Clerk, if he can find no more +amusing place to go to for his short Holyday; probably Aldis Wright, who +always comes into these parts at these Seasons--his 'Nazione' being +Beccles. Perhaps also a learned Nephew of mine--John De Soyres--now +Professor of some History at Queen's College, London, may look in. + +Did my Patron, Mr. Schutz Wilson, ever call on you, up to this time? I +dare say, not; for he may suppose you still out of London. And, though I +have had a little correspondence with him since, I have not said a word +about your return--nor about yourself. I saw in my Athenaeum or Academy +that Mercutio did as usual. Have you seen the Play? + +I conclude (from not hearing otherwise from Mowbray) that his Father is +much as when I saw him. I do not know if the Papers have reported +anything more of Lord Houghton, and I have not heard of him from my few +correspondents. + +But pray do you tell me a word about Mrs. Kemble; and beg her to believe +me ever the same + +E. F.G. + + + + +CIII. + + +[_Spring_, 1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I scarce think, judging by my old Recorder the Moon, that it is a month +since I last wrote to you. But not far off, neither. Be that as it may, +just now I feel inclined to tell you that I lately heard from Hallam +Tennyson by way of acknowledgment of the Programme of a Recital of his +Father's verse at Ipswich, by a quondam Tailor there. This, as you may +imagine, I did for fun, such as it was. But Hallam replies, without much +reference to the Reading: but to tell me how his Father had a fit of Gout +in his hand while he was in London: and therefore it was that he had not +called on you as he had intended. Think of my dear old Fellow with the +Gout! In consequence of which he was forbidden his daily allowance of +Port (if I read Hallam's scrawl aright), which, therefore, the Old Boy +had stuck to like a fine Fellow with a constancy which few modern Britons +can boast of. This reminded me that when I was on my last visit to him, +Isle of Wight, 1854, he stuck to his Port (I do not mean too much) and +asked me, who might be drinking Sherry, if I did not see that his was +'the best Beast of the two.' So he has remained true to his old Will +Waterproof Colours--and so he was prevented from calling on you--his +hand, Hallam says, swelled up like 'a great Sponge.' Ah, if he did not +live on a somewhat large scale, with perpetual Visitors, I might go once +more to see him. + +Now, you will, I know, answer me (unless your hand be like his!) and then +you will tell me how you are, and how your Party whom you were expecting +at Leamington when last you wrote. I take for granted they arrived safe, +in spite of the Wind that a little alarmed you at the time of your +writing. And now, in another month, you will be starting to meet your +American Family in Switzerland, if the Scheme you told me of still +hold--with them, I mean. So, by the Moon's law, I shall write to you +once again before you leave, and you--will once more answer! + +I shall say thus much of myself, that I do not shake off the Cold and +Cough that I have had, off and on, these four months: I certainly feel as +if some of the internal timbers were shaken; which is not to be wondered +at, nor complained of. {241a} Tell me how you fare; and believe me + +Your sincere as ancient + +LITTLEGRANGE. + +I now fancy that it must be Bentley who delays your Book, till Ballantine +& Co. have blown over. {241b} + + + + +CIV. + + +_Whitmonday_, [_May_ 29_th_, 1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Not full moon yet, but Whitsun the 29th of May, {241c} and you told me of +your expecting to be in Switzerland. And when once you get there, it is +all over with full moons as far as my correspondence with you is +concerned. + +I heard from Mowbray that his Father had been all but lost to him: but +had partially recovered. Not for long, I suppose: nor need I hope: and +this is all I will say to you on this subject. + +I have now Charles Keene staying Whitsuntide with me, and was to have had +Archdeacon Groome to meet him; but he is worn out with Archidiaconal +Charges, and so cannot come. But C. K. and I have been out in Carriage +to the Sea, and no visitor, nor host, could wish for finer weather. + +But this of our dear Donne over-clouds me a little, as I doubt not it +does you. Mowbray was to have come down for three days just now to a +Friend five miles off: but of course--you know. + +Somehow I am at a loss to write to you on such airy topics as usual. +Therefore, I shall simply ask you to let me know, in as few lines as you +care to write, when you leave England: and to believe me, wherever you +go, + +Your sincere Ancient +E. F.G. + + + + +CV. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _June_ 24, [1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +You wrote me that you had bidden Blanche to let you know about her +Father: and this I conclude that she, or some of her family have done. +Nevertheless, I will make assurance doubly sure by enclosing you the +letters I received from Mowbray, according to their dates: and will send +them--for once--through Coutts, in hopes that he may find you, as you +will not allow me to do without his help. Of that Death {243a} I say +nothing: as you may expect of me, and as I should expect of you also; if +I may say so. + +I have been to pay my annual Visit to George Crabbe and his Sisters in +Norfolk. And here is warm weather come to us at last (as not unusual +after the Longest Day), and I have almost parted with my Bronchial +Cold--though, as in the old Loving Device of the open Scissors, 'To meet +again.' I can only wonder it is no worse with me, considering how my +contemporaries have been afflicted. + +I am now reading Froude's Carlyle, which seems to me well done. Insomuch, +that I sent him all the Letters I had kept of Carlyle's, to use or not as +he pleased, etc. I do not think they will be needed among the thousand +others he has: especially as he tells me that his sole commission is, to +edit Mrs. Carlyle's Letters, for which what he has already done is +preparatory: and when this is completed, he will add a Volume of personal +Recollections of C. himself. Froude's Letter to me is a curious one: a +sort of vindication (it seems to me) of himself--quite uncalled for by +me, who did not say one word on the subject. {243b} The job, he says, +was forced upon him: 'a hard problem'--No doubt--But he might have left +the Reminiscences unpublisht, except what related to Mrs. C.--in spite of +Carlyle's oral injunction which reversed his written. Enough of all +this! + +Why will you not 'initiate' a letter when you are settled for a while +among your Mountains? Oh, ye Medes and Persians! This may be +impertinent of me: but I am ever yours sincerely + +E. F.G. + +I see your Book advertised as 'ready.' + + + + +CVI. {245a} + + +[_August_, 1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I have let the Full Moon {245b} go by, and very well she looked, too--over +the Sea by which I am now staying. Not at Lowestoft: but at the old +extinguished Borough of Aldeburgh, to which--as to other 'premiers +Amours,' I revert--where more than sixty years ago I first saw, and first +felt, the Sea--where I have lodged in half the houses since; and where I +have a sort of traditional acquaintance with half the population. 'Clare +Cottage' is where I write from; two little rooms--enough for me--a poor +civil Woman pleased to have me in them--oh, yes,--and a little spare +Bedroom in which I stow a poor Clerk, with his Legs out of the window +from his bed--like a Heron's from his nest--but rather more horizontally. +We dash about in Boats whether Sail or Oar--to which latter I leave him +for his own good Exercise. Poor fellow, he would have liked to tug at +that, or rough-ride a horse, from Boyhood: but must be made Clerk in a +London Lawyer's Office: and so I am glad to get him down for a Holyday +when he can get one, poor Fellow! + +The Carlyle 'Reminiscences' had long indisposed me from taking up the +Biography. But when I began, and as I went on with that, I found it one +of the most interesting of Books: and the result is that I not only +admire and respect Carlyle more than ever I did: but even love him, which +I never thought of before. For he loved his Family, as well as for so +long helped to maintain them out of very slender earnings of his own; +and, so far as these two Volumes show me, he loved his Wife also, while +he put her to the work which he had been used to see his own Mother and +Sisters fulfil, and which was suitable to the way of Life which he had +been used to. His indifference to her sufferings seems to me rather +because of Blindness than Neglect; and I think his Biographer has been +even a little too hard upon him on the score of Selfish disregard of her. +Indeed Mr. Norton wrote to me that he looked on Froude as something of an +Iago toward his Hero in respect of all he has done for him. The +publication of the Reminiscences is indeed a mystery to me: for I should +[have] thought that, even in a mercantile point of view, it would +indispose others, as me it did, to the Biography. But Iago must have +bungled in his work so far as I, for one, am concerned, if the result is +such as I find it--or unless I am very obtuse indeed. So I tell Mr. +Norton; who is about to edit Carlyle's Letters to Emerson, and whom I +should not like to see going to his work with such an 'Animus' toward his +Fellow-Editor. + +Yours always, +E. F.G. + +Faites, s'il vous plait, mes petits Compliments a Madame Wister. + + + + +CVII. {247} + + +ALDEBURGH: _Sept._ 1, [1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +Still by the Sea--from which I saw _The Harvest Moon_ rise for her three +nights' Fullness. And to-day is so wet that I shall try and pay you my +plenilunal due--not much to your satisfaction; for the Wet really gets +into one's Brain and Spirits, and I have as little to write of as ever +any Full Moon ever brought me. And yet, if I accomplish my letter, and +'take it to the Barber's,' where I sadly want to go, and, after being +wrought on by him, post my letter--why, you will, by your Laws, be +obliged to answer it. Perhaps you may have a little to tell me of +yourself in requital for the very little you have to hear of me. + +I have made a new Acquaintance here. Professor Fawcett (Postmaster +General, I am told) married a Daughter of one Newson Garrett of this +Place, who is also Father of your Doctor Anderson. Well, the Professor +(who was utterly blinded by the Discharge of his Father's Gun some twenty +or twenty-five years ago) came to this Lodging to call on Aldis Wright; +and, when Wright was gone, called on me, and also came and smoked a Pipe +one night here. A thoroughly unaffected, unpretending, man; so modest +indeed that I was ashamed afterwards to think how I had harangued him all +the Evening, instead of getting him to instruct me. But I would not ask +him about his Parliamentary Shop: and I should not have understood his +Political Economy: and I believe he was very glad to be talked to +instead, about some of those he knew, and some whom I had known. And, as +we were both in Crabbe's Borough, we talked of him: the Professor, who +had never read a word, I believe, about him, or of him, was pleased to +hear a little; and I advised him to buy the Life written by Crabbe's Son; +and I would give him my Abstract of the Tales of the Hall, by way of +giving him a taste of the Poet's self. + +Yes; you must read Froude's Carlyle above all things, and tell me if you +do not feel as I do about it. Professor Norton persists {248} in it that +I am proof against Froude's invidious insinuations simply because of my +having previously known Carlyle. But how is it that I did not know that +Carlyle was so good, grand, and even loveable, till I read the Letters, +which Froude now edits? I regret that I did not know what the Book tells +us while Carlyle was alive; that I might have loved him as well as +admired him. But Carlyle never spoke of himself in that way: I never +heard him advert to his Works and his Fame, except one day he happened to +mention 'About the time when Men began to talk of me.' + +I do not know if I told you in my last that (as you foretold me would be +the case) I did not find your later Records so interesting as the +earlier. Not from any falling off of the recorder, but of the material. + +The two dates of this Letter arise from my having written this second +half-sheet so badly that I resolved to write it over again--I scarce know +whether for better or worse. I go home this week, expecting Charles +Keene at Woodbridge for a week. Please to believe me (with Compliments +to Mrs. Wister) + +Yours sincerely always +E. F.G. + + + + +CVIII. {249} + + +WOODBRIDGE: _Oct._ 17, [1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I suppose that you are returned from the Loire by this time; but as I am +not sure that you have returned to the 'Hotel des Deux Mondes,' whence +you dated your last, I make bold once more to trouble Coutts with adding +your Address to my Letter. I think I shall have it from yourself not +long after. I shall like to hear a word about my old France, dear to me +from childish associations; and in particular of the Loire endeared to me +by Sevigne--for I never saw the glimmer of its Waters myself. If you +were in England I should send you an account of a tour there, written by +a Lady in 1833--written in the good old way of Ladies' writing, without +any of the smartness, and not too much of the 'graphic' of later times. +Did you look at Les Rochers, which, I have read, is not to be looked +_into_ by the present owner? {250a} + +Now for my 'Story, God bless you,' etc., you may guess where none is to +be told. Only, my old Housekeeper here has been bedded for this last +month, an illness which has caused her great pain, and at one time seemed +about to make an End of her. So it may do still: but for the last few +days she has suffered less pain, and so we--hope. This has caused much +trouble in my little household, as you may imagine--as well on our own +account, as on hers. + +Mowbray Donne wrote me that his Edith had been seriously--I know not if +dangerously--ill; and he himself much out of sorts, having never yet (he +says, and I believe) recovered from his Father's death. Blanche, for the +present, is quartered at Friends' and Kinsfolk's houses. + +Aldis Wright has sent me a Photograph, copied from Mrs. Cameron's +original, of James Spedding--so fine that I know not whether I feel more +pleasure or pain in looking at it. When you return to England, you shall +see it somehow. + +I have had a letter or two from Annie Ritchie, who is busy writing +various Articles for Magazines. One concerning Miss Edgeworth in the +Cornhill is pleasant reading. {250b} She tells me that Tennyson is at +Aldworth (his Hampshire house, you know), and a notice in Athenaeum or +Academy tells that he is about to produce 'a Pastoral Drama' at one of +the smaller Theatres! {251a} + +You may have seen--but more probably have not seen--how Mr. Irving and +Co. have brought out 'Much Ado' with all _eclat_. + +It seems to me (but I believe it seems so every year) that our trees keep +their leaves very long; I suppose because of no severe frosts or winds up +to this time. And my garden still shows some Geranium, Salvia, +Nasturtium, Great Convolvulus, and that grand African Marigold whose +Colour is so comfortable to us Spanish-like Paddies. {251b} I have also +a dear Oleander which even now has a score of blossoms on it, and touches +the top of my little Greenhouse--having been sent me when 'haut comme +ca,' as Marquis Somebody used to say in the days of Louis XIV. Don't you +love the Oleander? So clean in its leaves and stem, as so beautiful in +its flower; loving to stand in water, which it drinks up so fast. I +rather worship mine. + +Here is pretty matter to get Coutts to further on to Paris--to Mrs. +Kemble in Paris. And I have written it all in my best MS. with a pen +that has been held with its nib in water for more than a +fortnight--Charles Keene's recipe for keeping Pens in condition--Oleander- +like. + +Please to make my Compliments to Mrs. Wister--my good wishes to the young +Musician; {252a} and pray do you believe me your sincere as ever--in +spite of his new name-- + +LITTLEGRANGE. + + + + +CIX. + + +[_Nov._, 1882.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +You must be homeward-bound by this time, I think: but I hope my letter +won't light upon you just when you are leaving Paris, or just arriving in +London--perhaps about to see Mrs. Wister off to America from Liverpool! +But you will know very well how to set my letter aside till some better +opportunity. May Mrs. Wister fare well upon her Voyage over the +Atlantic, and find all well when she reaches her home. + +I have been again--twice or thrice--to Aldeburgh, when my contemporary +old Beauty Mary Lynn was staying there; and pleasant Evenings enough we +had, talking of other days, and she reading to me some of her Mudie +Books, finishing with a nice little Supper, and some hot grog (for me) +which I carried back to the fire, and _set on the carpet_. {252b} She +read me (for one thing) 'Marjorie Fleming' from a Volume of Dr. Brown's +Papers {253a}--read it as well as she could for laughing--'idiotically,' +she said--but all the better to my mind. She had been very dismal all +day, she said. Pray get some one to read you 'Marjorie'--which I say, +because (as I found) it agrees with one best in that way. If only for +dear Sir Walter's sake, who doated on the Child; and would not let his +Twelfth Night be celebrated till she came through the Snow in a Sedan +Chair, where (once in the warm Hall) he called all his Company down to +see her nestling before he carried her upstairs in his arms. A very +pretty picture. My old Mary said that Mr. Anstey's 'Vice Versa' made her +and a friend, to whom she read it, laugh idiotically too: but I could not +laugh over it alone, very clever as it is. And here is enough of me and +Mary. + +Devrient's Theory of Shakespeare's Sonnets (which you wrote me of) I +cannot pretend to judge of: what he said of the Englishwomen, to whom the +Imogens, Desdemonas, etc., were acceptable, seems to me well said. I +named it to Aldis Wright in a letter, but what he thinks on the +subject--surely no otherwise than Mrs. Kemble--I have not yet heard. My +dear old Alfred's Pastoral troubles me a little--that he should have +exposed himself to ridicule in his later days. Yet I feel sure that his +aim is a noble one; and there was a good notice in the Academy {253b} +saying there was much that was fine in the Play--nay, that a whole good +Play might yet be made of it by some better Playwright's practical Skill. + +And here is the end of my paper, before I have said something else that I +had to say. But you have enough for the present from your ancient E. +F.G.--who has been busy arranging some 'post mortem' papers. + + + + +CX. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _March_ 6, [1883.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE, + +I have asked more than one person for tidings of you, for the last two +months: and only yesterday heard from M. Donne that he had seen you at +the Address to which I shall direct this letter. I wrote to you about +mid-November, desiring Coutts to forward my letter: in which I said that +if you were in no mood to write during the time of Mrs. Wister's +departure for America (which you had told me was to be November end) you +were not to trouble yourself at all. Since which time I have really not +known whether you had not gone off to America too. Anyhow, I thought +better to wait till I had some token of your 'whereabout,' if nothing +more. And now Mowbray tells me that much, and I will venture another +Letter to you after so long an interval. You must always follow your own +inclination as to answering me--not by any means make a 'Duty' of it. + +As usual I have nothing to say of myself but what you have heard from me +for years. Only that my (now one year old) friend Bronchitis has thus +far done but little more than to keep me aware that he has not quitted +me, nor even thinks of so doing. Nay, this very day, when the Snow which +held off all winter is now coming down under stress of N.E. wind, I feel +my friend stirring somewhat within. + +Enough of that and of myself. Mowbray gives me a very good report of +you--Absit Nemesis for my daring to write it!--And you have got back to +something of our old London Quarters, which I always look to as better +than the new. And do you go to even a Play, in the old Quarters also? +Wright, who was with me at Christmas, was taken by Macmillan to see 'Much +Ado,' and found, all except Scenery, etc. (which was too good) so bad +that he vowed he would never go to see Sh. 'at any of your Courts' again. +Irving without any Humour, Miss Terry with simply Animal Spirits, etc. +However, Wright did intend once more to try--Comedy of Errors, at some +theatre; but how he liked it--I may hear if he comes to me at Easter. + +Now this is enough--is it not?--for a letter: but I am as always + +Sincerely yours, + +E. F.G. + + + + +CXI. + + +WOODBRIDGE: _April_ 12, [1883.] + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +I do not think you will be sorry that more than a Moon has waxed and +waned since last I wrote to you. For you have seen long enough how +little I had to tell, and that nevertheless you were bound to answer. But +all such Apologies are stale: you will believe, I hope, that I remain as +I was in regard to you, as I shall believe that you are the same toward +me. + +Mowbray Donne has told me two months ago that he could not get over the +Remembrance of last May; and that, acting on Body as well as Mind, aged +him, I suppose, as you saw. Mowbray is one of the most loyal men toward +Kinsman and Friend. + +Now for my own little Budget of News. I got through those Sunless East +winds well enough: better than I am feeling now they both work together. +I think the Wind will rule till Midsummer: 'Enfin tant qu'il plaira a +Dieu.' Aldis Wright was with me for Easter, and we went on our usual +way, together or apart. Professor Norton had sent me his Carlyle-Emerson +Correspondence, which we conned over together, and liked well on either +side. Carlyle should not have said (and still less Norton printed) that +Tennyson was a 'gloomy' Soul, nor Thackeray 'of inordinate Appetite,' +neither of which sayings is true: nor written of Lord Houghton as a +'Robin Redbreast' of a man. I shall wait very patiently till Mudie sends +me Jane Carlyle--where I am told there is a word of not unkindly +toleration of me; which, if one be named at all, one may be thankful for. +{257} + +Here are two Questions to be submitted to Mrs. Kemble by Messrs. Aldis +Wright and Littlegrange--viz., What she understands by-- + +(1.) 'The Raven himself is hoarse,' etc. + +(2.) 'But this _eternal_ Blazon must not be,' etc. + +Mrs. Kemble (who _will_ answer my letter) can tell me how she fares in +health and well-being; yes, and if she has seen, or heard, anything of +Alfred Tennyson, who is generally to be heard of in London at this time +of year. And pray let Mrs. Kemble believe in the Writer of these poor +lines as her ancient, and loyal, Subject + +E. F.G. + +'The raven himself is hoarse,' etc. + + "Lady Macbeth compares the Messenger, hoarse for lack of Breath, to a + raven whose croaking was held to be prophetic of Disaster. This we + think the natural interpretation of the words, though it is rejected + by some Commentators."--_Clark and Wright's Clarendon Press + Shakespeare_. + + "'Eternal Blazon' = revelation of Eternity. It may be, however, that + Sh. uses 'eternal' for 'infernal' here, as in _Julius Caesar_ I. 2, + 160: 'The eternal Devil'; and _Othello_ IV. 2, 130: 'Some eternal + villain.' 'Blazon' is an heraldic term, meaning Description of + armorial bearings, * hence used for description generally; as in _Much + Ado_ II. 1, 307. The verb 'blazon' occurs in _Cymbeline_ IV. 2, + 170."--_Ibid_. + +Thus have I written out in my very best hand: as I will take care to do +in future; for I think it very bad manners to puzzle anyone--and +especially a Lady--with that which is a trouble to read; and I really had +no idea that I have been so guilty of doing so to Mrs. Kemble. + +Also I beg leave to say that nothing in Mowbray's letter set me off +writing again to Mrs. Kemble, except her Address, which I knew not till +he gave it to me, and I remain her very humble obedient Servant, + +THE LAIRD OF LITTLEGRANGE-- + +of which I enclose a side view done by a Woodbridge Artisan for his own +amusement. So that Mrs. Kemble may be made acquainted with the +'_habitat_' of the Flower--which is about to make an Omelette for its +Sunday Dinner. + +N.B.--The 'Raven' is not he that reports the news to Miladi M., but 'one +of my fellows Who almost dead for breath, etc.' + +* Not, as E. F.G. had thought, the Bearings themselves. + + + + +CXII. + + +[_May_, 1883.] + +MY DEAR LADY, + +I conclude (from what you wrote me in your last letter) that you are at +Leamington by this time; and I will venture to ask a word of you before +you go off to Switzerland, and I shall have to rely on Coutts & Co. for +further Correspondence between us. I am not sure of your present +Address, even should you be at Leamington--not sure--but yet I think my +letter will find you--and, if it do not--why, then you will be saved the +necessity of answering it. + +I had written to Mowbray Donne to ask about himself and his Wife: and +herewith I enclose his Answer--very sad, and very manly. You shall +return it if you please; for I set some store by it. + +Now I am reading--have almost finished--Jane Carlyle's Letters. I dare +say you have already heard them more than enough discussed in London; and +therefore I will only say that it is at any rate fine of old Carlyle to +have laid himself so easily open to public Rebuke, though whether such +Revelations are fit for Publicity is another question. At any rate, it +seems to me that _half_ her letters, and _all_ his ejaculations of +Remorse summed up in a Preface, would have done better. There is an +Article by brave Mrs. Oliphant in this month's Contemporary Review {259} +(or Magazine) well worth reading on the subject; with such a Challenge to +Froude as might almost be actionable in Law. We must 'hear both sides,' +and wait for the Volume which [is] to crown all his Labours in this +Cause. + +I think your Leamington Country is more in Leaf than ours 'down-East:' +which only just begins to 'stand in a mist of green.' {260} By the by, I +lately heard from Hallam Tennyson that all his Party were well enough; +not having been to London this Spring because Alfred's Doctor had warned +him against London Fogs, which suppress Perspiration, and bring up Gout. +Which is the best piece of news in my Letter; and I am + +Yours always and a Day +E. F.G. + +P.S. I do not enclose Mowbray's letter, as I had intended to do, for +fear of my own not finding you. + + + + +CXIII. + + +[_May_, 1883.] + +MY DEAR LADY; + +Stupid me! And now, after a little hunt, I find poor Mowbray's Letter, +which I had made sure of having sent you. But I should not now send it +if I did not implore you not to write in case you thought fit to return +it; which indeed I did ask you to do; but now I would rather it remained +with you, who will acknowledge all the true and brave in it as well as +I--yes, it may be laid, if you please, even among those of your own which +you tell me Mowbray's Father saved up for you. If you return it, let it +be without a word of your own: and pray do not misunderstand me when I +say that. You will hear of me (if Coutts be true) when you are among +your Mountains again; and, if you do hear of me, I know you will--for you +must--reply. + +At last some feeling of Spring--a month before Midsummer. And next week +I am expecting my grave Friend Charles Keene, of Punch, to come here for +a week--bringing with him his Bagpipes, and an ancient Viol, and a Book +of Strathspeys and Madrigals; and our Archdeacon will come to meet him, +and to talk over ancient Music and Books: and we shall all three drive +out past the green hedges, and heaths with their furze in blossom--and I +wish--yes, I do--that you were of the Party. + +I love all Southey, and all that he does; and love that Correspondence of +his with Caroline Bowles. We (Boy and I) have been reading an account of +Zetland, which makes me thirst for 'The Pirate' again--tiresome, I +know--more than half of it--but what a Vision it leaves behind! {261} + +Now, Madam, you cannot pretend that you have to jump at my meaning +through my MS. I am sure it is legible enough, and that I am ever yours + +E. F.G. + +You write just across the Address you date from; but I jump at that which +I shall direct this Letter by. + + + + +CXIV. + + +WOODBRIDGE, _May_ 27/83. + +MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE: + +I feel minded to write you a word of Farewell before you start off for +Switzerland: but I do not think it will be very welcome to you if, as +usual, you feel bound to answer it on the Eve of your Departure. Why not +let me hear from you when you are settled for a few days somewhere among +your Mountains? + +I was lately obliged to run to London on a disagreeable errand: which, +however, got itself over soon after midday; when I got into a Cab to +Chelsea, for the purpose of seeing Carlyle's Statue on the Embankment, +and to take a last look at his old House in Cheyne Row. The Statue very +good, I thought, though looking somewhat small for want of a good +Background to set it off: but the old House! Shut up--neglected--'To +Let'--was sad enough to me. I got back to Woodbridge before night. {263} + +Since then I have had Charles Keene (who has not been well) staying with +me here for ten days. He is a very good Guest, inasmuch as he entertains +himself with Books, and Birds'-nests, and an ancient Viol which he has +brought down here: as also a Bagpipe (his favourite instrument), only +leaving the 'Bag' behind: he having to supply its functions from his own +lungs. But he will leave me to-morrow or next day; and with June will +come my two Nieces from Lowestoft: and then the Longest Day will come, +and we shall begin declining toward Winter again, after so shortly +escaping from it. + +This very morning I receive The Diary of John Ward, Vicar of Stratford on +Avon from 1648 to 1679--with some notices of W. S. which you know all +about. And I am as ever + +Sincerely yours +LITTLEGRANGE. + +Is not this Letter legible enough? + + + + +INDEX + + +Academy (Royal), pictures at, 49 + +Aconites, "New Year's Gifts," 211, 231 + +Aide (H.), 202 + +Anstey's 'Vice Versa,' 253 + +Arkwright (Mrs.), 87 + +Autumn colours, 112 + +Bagehot's Essays, 170 + +Barton (Bernard), 174 + +Basselin (Olivier), quoted, 23 + +Beard (Dr.), 48 + +Belvidere Hat, 163 + +Beranger, 20-22 + +Beuve (Sainte), Causeries, 40, 53 + +Blackbird _v._ Nightingale, 46 + +Blakesley (J. W.), Dean of Lincoln, 78, 233 + +Boccaccio, 117 + +Brown (Dr. John), 253 + +Burns, compared with Beranger, 20-22; quoted, 37 + +Burrows (General), his defeat by Ayoub Khan, 193 + +Calderon, 63, 185 + +Candide, 174 + +Carlyle (T.), 17; forwards Mr. Ruskin's letter to E. F.G., 19; his Kings +of Norway, 61, 65; presented with a Medal and Address on his 80th +birthday, 88, 91; vehement against Darwin and the Turk, 110; on Sir +Walter Scott, 131; is reading Shakespeare and Boswell's Hebrides, 170; +becomes very feeble, 203; is buried at Ecclefechan, 206, 207; his +Reminiscences, 215, 218; his Letters to Emerson, 246, 256 + +Carlyle (Mrs.), her Letters, 257, 259 + +Carlyle (Mrs. Alexander), 163, 170, 186, 207, 215, 222 + +Chateaubriand's father, 59 + +Chorley (H. F.), his death, 11; Life of, 38, 53 + +Clerke Saunders, 164 + +Coriolanus, 139 + +Corneille, 73 + +Country church, Scene in, 46 + +Cowell (Professor), 155 + +Crabbe (G.), the Poet, quoted, 39, 43, 55, 59, 118; his portrait by +Pickersgill, 39,150; article on him in the Cornhill, 58; his fancy +quickened by a fall of snow, 198 + +Crabbe (George), Vicar of Bredfield, the poet's son, 43 + +Crabbe (George), Rector of Merton, the poet's grandson, 202, 225 + +Deffand (Madame du), 53 + +De Quincey (T.), on Janus Weathercock, 90 + +Derby Day, 186 + +De Soyres (John), E. F.G.'s nephew, 238 + +De Soyres (Mrs.), E. F.G.'s sister, her death, 168 + +Devrient, his Theory of Shakespeare's Sonnets, 253 + +Dickens (Charles), 69; E. F.G.'s admiration for him, 51, 126; his passion +for colours, 54 + +Donne (Blanche), 48, 111, 149, 154 + +Donne (Charles), 95, 111, 131 + +Donne (Mrs. Charles), her death, 106 + +Donne (Mowbray), 10, 29, 39, 62, 86, 95, 111, 140, 181, 185, 193, 196, +199, 206, 207, 212, 223, 227, 242, 259, 260; visits E. F.G., 86 + +Donne (Valentia), 6, 18, 111, 161, 199; her marriage, 127 + +Donne (W. B.), mentioned, 3, 4, 6, 8, 18, 48, 60, 64, 78, 98, 102, 111, +121, 181, 207, 212, 223, 227, 229, 241; his Lectures, 10; his illness, +35, 37, 39, 42; retires from his post as Licenser of Plays, 48, 50; his +successor, 50; reviews Macready's Memoirs, 75; his death, 243 + +Ducis, 219 + +Dunwich, 138 + +Eastern Question (the), 117 + +Eckermann, a German Boswell, 155 + +Edwards (Edwin), 139, 140, 158; his death, 155; exhibition of his +pictures, 166, 168, 169 + +Elio (F. J.), 120 + +Elliot (Sir Gilbert), pastoral by, 82 + +Euphranor, 65 + +FitzGerald (Edward), parts with his yacht, 3; his reader's mistakes, 4; +his house at Woodbridge, 8; his unwillingness to have visitors, 8, 9; his +mother, 11; reads Hawthorne's Notes of Italian Travel, 12; Memoirs of +Harness, 13; cannot read George Eliot, 15, 38, 171; his love for Sir +Walter Scott, 15, 229; visits his brother Peter, 16; on the art of being +photographed, 24, 25; reads Walpole, Wesley, and Boswell's Johnson, 28; +in Paris in 1830, 31; cannot read Goethe's Faust, 31, 124; reads Ste. +Beuve's Causeries, 40, and Don Quixote, 41, 45; has a skeleton of his +own, bronchitis, 45, 47, 75; goes to Scotland, 49; to the Academy, 49; +reads Dickens, 51; Crabbe, 54; condenses the Tales of the Hall, 59, 64, +118; death of his brother Peter, 64; translations from Calderon, 63; +tries to read Gil Blas and La Fontaine, 66; admires Corneille, 73; reads +Madame de Sevigne, 73; writes to Notes and Queries, 82; begins to 'smell +the ground,' 83; his recollections of Paris, 85; reads Mrs. Trollope's 'A +Charming Fellow,' 95; on framing pictures, 96, 99, 102, 106; translation +of the Agamemnon, 97, 103, 107, 111; meets Macready, 103; his Lugger +Captain, 104, 115, 117; prefers the Second Part of Don Quixote, 108; +scissors and paste his 'Harp and Lute,' 126; reads Dickens' Great +Expectations, 126; on nightingales, 128, 136, 184; wished to dedicate +Agamemnon to Mrs. Kemble, 129; reads The Heart of Mid-Lothian, 130; +Catullus, 135; Guy Mannering, 137; at Dunwich, 138; reads Coriolanus, +139; Kenilworth, 145; David Copperfield, 145; his Readings in Crabbe, +147, 150; reads Hawthorne's Journals, 153; at Lowestoft, 155; reads +Forster's Life of Dickens, 155; and Trollope's Novels, 155, 171; +Eckermann's Goethe, 155; works on Crabbe's Posthumous Tales, 164; his +Quarter-deck, 167; Dombey and Son, 172, 187; Comus and Lycidas, 178; Mrs. +Kemble's Records, 186; Madame de Sevigne, 186, 188; visits George Crabbe +at Merton, 188, 243; his ducks and chickens, 189; his Irish cousins, 190; +at Aldeburgh, 190; with his nieces at Lowestoft, 195; sends Charles +Tennyson's Sonnets to Mrs. Kemble, 198; his eyes out of 'Keller,' 202, +206; reads Winter's Tale, 204; his translations of the two OEdipus plays, +205, 208; his affection for the stage, 210; his collection of actors' +portraits, 210; his love for Spedding, 212; his reminiscences of a visit +with Tennyson at Mirehouse, 214; reads Wordsworth, 217; sends his reader +to see Macbeth, 231; feels as if some of the internal timbers were +shaken, 240; reads Froude's Carlyle, 243, 245, 248; at Aldeburgh, 245, +247; meets Professor Fawcett, 247; consults Mrs. Kemble on two passages +of Shakespeare, 257; goes to look at Carlyle's statue and his old house, +262 + +FitzGerald (Jane), afterwards Mrs. Wilkinson, E. F.G.'s sister, 112, 122 + +FitzGerald (J. P.), E. F.G.'s eldest brother, 95, 100; his illness, 141, +144; and death, 149 + +FitzGerald (Mrs.), E. F.G.'s mother, 11, 61, 96; her portrait by Sir T. +Lawrence, 177 + +FitzGerald (Percy), his Lives of the Kembles, 5, 6 + +FitzGerald (Peter), E. F.G.'s brother, 16; his death, 64 + +Frere (Mrs.), 83, 87, 181 + +Froude (J. A.), constantly with Carlyle, 203; is charged with his +biography, 208; his Life of Carlyle, 243; writes to E. F.G., 243 + +Fualdes, murder of, 85; play founded on, 89 + +Furness (H. H.), 60, 64, 66, 101, 203 + +Gil Blas, 66 + +Glyn (Miss), 97 + +Goethe, 31, 123, 124; his conversations by Eckermann, 155 + +Goethe and Schiller, correspondence of, 231 + +Goodwin (Professor), proposes to visit E. F.G., 192 + +Gordon (Mrs.), 132, 203 + +Gout, 7 + +Groome (Archdeacon), 4, 45, 199, 223 + +Half Hours with the Worst Authors, 31, 34 + +Hamlet, theory of Gervinus on, 32; the Quarto and Folio Texts of, 221 + +Harlowe's picture of the Trial Scene in Henry VIII., 87 + +Harness (Rev. W.), Memoirs of, 6, 13 + +Hatherley (Lord), letter from, 132 + +Hawthorne (Nathaniel), his Notes of Italian Travel, 12, 153 + +Haydn, 83 + +Haydon (B. R.), verses by his wife, 34 + +Haymarket Opera (The), 200 + +Hayward (A.), his translation of Faust, 124; his Select Essays, 170 + +Helen of Kirkconnel, 164 + +Helps (Sir Arthur), his death, 68 + +Hertford (Lord), 48, 50 + +Hood (T.), verses by, 87, 95 + +Houghton (Lord), 164, 236, 239, 257 + +Hugo (F. Victor), his translation of Shakespeare, 114 + +Hunt (Holman), The Shadow of Death, 40 + +Intellectual Peat, 69 + +Irving (Henry), in Hamlet, 74, 75; his portrait, 86; in Queen Mary, 107, +109; his reading of Eugene Aram, 124; in Much Ado about Nothing, 251, 255 + +Jenny (Mr.), the owner of Bredfield House, 10 + +Jessica, 179 + +Kean (Edmund), in Othello, 53 + +Keats (John), his Letters, 134; his Life and Letters, by Lord Houghton, +164 + +Keene (Charles), 225, 249, 261; at Little Grange, 242, 263 + +Kelly (Michael), his Reminiscences, 146 + +Kemble (Charles), in Othello, 53; as Falconbridge and Petruchio, 58; in +As You Like It, 58; as Charles Surface, 58; as Cromwell, 87; in King +John, 182 + +Kemble (Mrs. Charles), 61, 62; her 'Smiles and Tears,' 14; contributes to +Kitchener's Cook's Oracle, 89; miniature of her as Urania, 96, 99, 100, +101, 106, 146 + +Kemble (Fanny), her laws of correspondence, 2; her daughter's marriage, +3; her Memoirs, 29; in America, 36, 46; her article 'On the Stage' in the +Cornhill Magazine, 53, 78, 227; her letter about Macready, 57; her +photograph, 61; as Louisa of Savoy, 73; writes her 'Old Woman's Gossip' +in the Atlantic Monthly, 84, 92; letter from her to the Editor, 93; +omitted passage from her 'Gossip,' 93-94; uses a type-writer, 94; her +opinion of Portia, 95, 124; on Goethe and Portia, 123; end of her +'Gossip,' 125, 129; her Records of a Girlhood, 186; her favourite +Colours, 197; her portrait by Sir T. Lawrence, 210; her Records of Later +Life, 227, 228 + +Kemble (Henry), Mrs. Kemble's brother, 58, 109 + +Kemble (Henry), Mrs. Kemble's nephew, 225 + +Kemble (John Mitchell), 120, 153, 159 + +Kemble (J. P.), 179, 183; portrait of him as OEdipus, 183, 210; Plays +revised by him, 220 + +Kerrich (Edmund), E. F.G.'s nephew, 129, 172 + +La Fontaine, 66 + +Laurence (S.), copies Pickersgill's portrait of Crabbe, 39; letter from, +90 + +Leigh (the Hon. Mrs.), Mrs. Kemble's daughter, 161; her marriage, 3 + +L'Hopital (Chancellor), quoted, 191 + +Little Grange, first named, 42 + +Lowell (J. R.), 'Among my Books,' 97, 119, 135; his Odes, 120, 122; +letter from, 136; his coming to England as Minister of the United States, +174; illness of his wife, 174, 184, 186, 192 + +Lynn (Mary), 191, 252, 253 + +Macbeth quoted, 43, 68; French opera by Chelard, acted at Dublin, 81 + +Macready (W. C,), 27; his Memoirs edited by Sir W. F. Pollock, 38, 44, +50, 52, 68, 70, 98, 102; his Macbeth, 44, 57, 68; plays Henry IV., 58; +reads Mrs. Kemble's English Tragedy, 72 + +Malkin (Arthur), 110, 132, 213 + +Malkin (Dr. B. H.), Master of Bury School, 94; Crabbe a favourite with +him, 213 + +Marjorie Fleming, 252 + +Marot (Clement), quoted, 23 + +Matthews (Charles), his Memoir, 173 + +Merivale (Charles), Dean of Ely, 195, 218 + +Montaigne, 103, 104, 105, 117 + +Musset (Alfred de), Memoir of, 138; loves to read Clarissa Harlowe, 138 + +Napoleon, saying of, 218 + +Naseby, proposed monument at, 17, 27 + +Norton (C. E), 19, 97, 119, 123, 135, 151, 180, 183, 205, 209, 246, 256 + +OEdipus, by Dryden and Lee, 229 + +Oleander, 251 + +Oliphant (Mrs.), on Carlyle, 218, 220; on Mrs. Carlyle, 259 + +Oriole, 46 + +Pasta, saying of, 53 + +Pasta, in Medea, 181, 200 + +Pasteur (Le Bon), 30, 33 + +Peacock (E.), Headlong Hall quoted, 40 + +Piccolomini, 11 + +Pigott (E. F. S.), succeeds W. B. Donne, 50 + +Piozzi (Mrs.), Memoirs of, 46 + +Pollock (Sir W. F ), visits E. F.G., 15; edits Macready's Memoirs, 38, +44; letter from, 55; visits Carlyle, 110 + +Portia, 95, 124 + +Quixote (Don), 41, 108, 155, 182; must be read in Spanish, 114, 117 + +Ritchie (Mrs.), Miss Thackeray, 135 + +Rossi in Hamlet, 107 + +Rousseau on stage decoration, 110 + +Santley (Mrs.), 111 + +Sartoris (Edward), 192, 203 + +Sartoris (Greville), death of, 38 + +Sartoris (Mrs.), Mrs. Kemble's sister, 38; her illness, 140, 149; and +death, 154; her Medusa and other Tales, 203 + +Scott (Sir Walter), his indifference to fame, 116; the easy movement of +his stories, 130; Barry Cornwall's saying of him, 131; his Kenilworth, +145; the Fortunes of Nigel, 228, 231; Marjorie Fleming, 252; The Pirate, +261 + +Sevigne (Madame de), 73, 103, 105, 137, 184, 186, 188, 222; her Rochers, +105, 184; not shown to visitors, 188; list of her dramatis personae, 125; +quoted, 190, 217 + +Shakespeare, edited by Clark and Wright, 68, 69 + +Shakespeare, 69 + +Shakespeare's predecessors, 223 + +Siddons (Mrs.), 46, 71, 183; her portrait by Sir T. Lawrence, 81; article +on her in the Nineteenth Century, 134; in Winter's Tale, 204 + +Skeat (Professor), his Inaugural Lecture, 153 + +Southey's Correspondence with Caroline Bowles, 261 + +Spanish Tragedy (The), scene from, 62 + +Spedding (James), is finishing his Life and Letters of Bacon, 27; has +finished them, 42, 51: his note on Antony and Cleopatra, 43, 45; +emendation of Shakespeare, 45; paper on Richard III., 74; his opinion of +Irving's Hamlet, 74; and Miss Ellen Terry's Portia, 74, 77; will not see +Salvini in Othello, 74; on The Merchant of Venice, 77, 80, 176, 201; the +Latest Theory about Bacon, 111; Shakespeare Notes, 189; his Preface to +Charles Tennyson Turner's Sonnets, 197; his accident, 212; and death, +214; his Evenings with a Reviewer, 233: Mrs. Cameron's photograph of him, +250 + +Stephen (Leslie), 58; his 'Hours in a Library,' 118 + +Taylor (Tom), 166, 193; his death, 192; his Memoir of Haydon, 194 + +Tennyson (A.), in Burns's country, 22; changes his publisher, 37; his +Queen Mary, 77; mentioned, 82, 113, 160, 193, 228, 239; his Mary Tudor, +107, 109; visits E. F.G. at Woodbridge, 113, 114; the attack on him in +the Quarterly, 116; his Harold, 122; portrait of him, 134; his saying of +Clarissa Harlow, 138; of Crabbe's portrait by Pickersgill, 151; used to +repeat Clerke Saunders and Helen of Kirkconnel, 164; The Falcon, 169; The +Cup, 206, 208; his saying of Lycidas, 178; his eyes, 183; Ballads and +other Poems, 201; with E. F.G. at Mirehouse, 214; The Promise of May, +251, 253 + +Tennyson (Frederick), visits E. F.G., 16; his saying of blindness, 183; +his poems, 197 + +Tennyson (Hallam, now Lord), 114, 228, 239, 260 + +Tennyson (Lionel), 98; his marriage, 135 + +Terry (Miss Ellen), as Portia, 74, 77; Tom Taylor's opinion of her, 95 + +Thackeray (Minnie), death of, 90 + +Thackeray (Miss), 99; her Old Kensington, 13, 15, 39; meets E. F.G. at +the Royal Academy, 16; her Village on the Cliff, 38; on Madame de +Sevigne, 227; on Miss Edgeworth, 250 + +Thackeray (W. M.), 38, 120; not the author of a Tragedy, 51; his Drawings +published, 'The Orphan of Pimlico,' etc., 91; his pen and ink drawing of +Mrs. Kemble as Louisa of Savoy, 73 + +Thurtell, the murderer, 152 + +Tichborne trial, 28, 36 + +Tieck, 'an Eyewitness of John Kemble' in The Nineteenth Century, 179, 183 + +Trench (Archbishop), his Translation of Calderon, 185; E. F.G. sends him +his Crabbe, 185 + +Tunbridge Wells, 57 + +Turner (Charles Tennyson), his Sonnets, 151, 197 + +'Twalmley' ('the Great'), 75, 102, 116 + +Two Noble Kinsmen (The), 221 + +Urania, 146 + +Wade (T.), author of the Jew of Aragon, 120 + +Wainewright (T. G.), 90 + +Wales (Prince of), Thanksgiving service for his recovery, 10 + +Ward (John), Vicar of Stratford on Avon, his diary, 263 + +Wesley (John), his Journal one of E. F.G.'s hobbies, 28, 186 + +Whalley (Dr.), his reading of a passage in Macbeth, 46 + +Wilkinson (Mrs.), E. F.G.'s sister, 112, 122, 169, 225 + +Wilson (H. Schutz), 232, 233, 235 + +Wister (Mrs.), Mrs. Kemble's daughter, 6, 36, 252, 254 + +Woodberry (G. E.), his article on Crabbe, 180 + +Wylie (W. H.), on Thomas Carlyle, 237 + + + + +Footnotes: + + +{3a} Mrs. Kemble's daughter, Frances Butler, was married to the Hon. and +Rev. James Wentworth Leigh, now Dean of Hereford, 29th June 1871. + +{3b} See 'Letters,' ii. 126. + +{6} Fitzgerald's Lives of the Kembles was reviewed in the _Athenaeum_, +12th August 1871, and the 'Memoirs of Mr. Harness,' 28th October. + +{7} Macbeth, ii. 2, 21. + +{9} In writing to Sir Frederick Pollock on November 17th, 1871, +FitzGerald says:-- + + 'The Game-dealer here telling me that he has some very good Pheasants, + I have told him to send you a Brace--to go in company with Braces to + Carlyle, and Mrs. Kemble. This will, you may think, necessitate your + writing a Reply of Thanks before your usual time of writing: but don't + do that:--only write to me now in case the Pheasants don't reach you; + I know you will thank me for them, whether they reach you or not; and + so you can defer writing so much till you happen next upon an idle + moment which you may think as well devoted to me; you being the only + man, except Donne, who cares to trouble himself with a gratuitous + letter to one who really does not deserve it. + + 'Donne, you know, is pleased with Everybody, and with Everything that + Anybody does for him. You must take his Praises of Woodbridge with + this grain of Salt to season them. It may seem odd to you at + first--but not perhaps on reflection--that I feel more--nervous, I may + say--at the prospect of meeting with an old Friend, after all these + years, than of any indifferent Acquaintance. I feel it the less with + Donne, for the reason aforesaid--why should I not feel it with you who + have given so many tokens since our last meeting that you are well + willing to take me as I am? If one is, indeed, by Letter what one is + in person.--I always tell Donne not to come out of his way here--he + says he takes me in the course of a Visit to some East-Anglian + kinsmen. Have you ever any such reason?--Well; if you have no better + reason than that of really wishing to see me, for better or worse, in + my home, come--some Spring or Summer day, when my Home at any rate is + pleasant. This all sounds mock-modesty; but it is not; as I can't + read Books, Plays, Pictures, etc. and don't see People, I feel, when a + Man comes, that I have all to ask and nothing to tell; and one doesn't + like to make a Pump of a Friend.' + +{10a} At the Royal Institution, on 'The Theatre in Shakespeare's Time.' +The series consisted of six lectures, which were delivered from 20th +January to 24th February 1872. On 18th February 1872, Mrs. Kemble wrote: +'My dear old friend Donne is lecturing on Shakespeare, and I have heard +him these last two times. He is looking ill and feeble, and I should +like to carry him off too, out of the reach of his too many and too heavy +cares.'--'Further Records,' ii. 253. + +{10b} 27th February, 1872, for the recovery of the Prince of Wales. + +{10c} Mr. Jenney, the owner of Bredfield House, where FitzGerald was +born. See 'Letters,' i. 64. + +{11} H. F. Chorley died 16th February 1872. + +{13a} Perhaps Widmore, near Bromley. See 'Further Records,' ii. 253. + +{13b} 'Old Kensington,' the first number of which appeared in the +_Cornhill Magazine_ for April 1872. + +{15} He came May 18th, 1872, the day before Whitsunday. + +{16a} F. T. came August 1st, 1872. + +{16b} See 'Letters,' ii. 142-3. + +{19a} Miss Harriet St. Leger. + +{19b} April 14th, 1873. See 'Letters,' ii. 154. + +{23a} Probably the piece beginning-- + + 'On plante des pommiers es bords + Des cimitieres, pres des morts, &c + +Olivier Basselin ('Vaux-de-Vire,' ed Jacob, 1858, xv. p. 28) + +On Oct 13th, 1879, FitzGerald wrote of a copy of Olivier (ed. Du Bois, +1821) which he had sent by me to Professor Cowell: "If Cowell does not +care for Olivier--the dear Phantom!--pray do you keep him. Read a little +piece--the two first Stanzas--beginning 'Dieu garde de deshonneur,' p. +184--quite beautiful to me; though not classed as Olivier's. Also 'Royne +des Flours, &c,' p. 160. These are things that Beranger could not reach +with all his Art; but Burns could without it." + +{23b} De Damoyselle Anne de Marle (Marot, 'Cimetiere,' xiv ):-- + + 'Lors sans viser au lieu dont elle vint, + Et desprisant la gloire que l'on a + En ce bas monde, icelle Anne ordonna, + Que son corps fust entre les pauures mys + En cette fosse. Or prions, chers amys, + Que l'ame soit entre les pauures mise, + Qui bien heureux sont chantez en l'Eglise.' + +{25} On March 30, 1873, FitzGerald wrote to Sir Frederick Pollock:-- + + "At the beginning of this year I submitted to be Photo'ed at last--for + many Nieces, and a few old Friends--I must think that you are an old + Friend as well as a very kind and constant one; and so I don't like + not to send you what I have sent others.--The Artist who took me, took + (as he always does) three several Views of one's Face: but the third + View (looking full-faced) got blurred by my blinking at the Light: so + only these two were reproduced--I shouldn't know that either was meant + for [me]: nor, I think, would any one else, if not told: but the Truth- + telling Sun somehow did them; and as he acted so handsomely by me, I + take courage to distribute them to those who have a regard for me, and + will naturally like to have so favourable a Version of one's Outward + Aspect to remember one by. I should not have sent them if they had + been otherwise. The up-looking one I call 'The Statesman,' quite + ready to be called to the Helm of Affairs: the Down-looking one I call + The Philosopher. Will you take which you like? And when next old + Spedding comes your way, give him the other (he won't care which) with + my Love. I only don't write to him because my doing so would impose + on his Conscience an Answer--which would torment him for some little + while. I do not love him the less: and believe all the while that he + not the less regards me." + +Again on May 5, he wrote: "I think I shall have a word about M[acready] +from Mrs. Kemble, with whom I have been corresponding a little since her +return to England. She has lately been staying with her Son in Law, Mr. +Leigh (?), at Stoneleigh Vicarage, near Kenilworth. In the Autumn she +says she will go to America, never to return to England. But I tell her +she _will_ return. She is to sit for her Photo at my express desire, and +I have given her Instructions _how_ to sit, derived from my own +successful Experience. One rule is to sit--in a dirty Shirt--(to avoid +dangerous White) and another is, not to sit on a Sunshiny Day: which we +must leave to the Young. + +"By the by, I sent old Spedding my own lovely Photo (_the Statesman_) +which he has acknowledged in Autograph. He tells me that he begins to +'smell Land' with his Bacon." + +{28a} See 'Letters,' ii. 165-7. + +{28b} See letter of April 22nd, 1873. + +{30} Shakespeare, Ant. & Cl., v. 2, line 6:-- + + 'Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change.' + +{31} In his 'Half Hours with the Worst Authors' FitzGerald has +transcribed 'Le Bon Pasteur,' which consists of five stanzas of eight +lines each, beginning:-- + + 'Bons habitans de ce Village, + Pretez l'oreille un moment,' &c. + +Each stanza ends:-- + + 'Et le bon Dieu vous benira.' + +He adds: 'One of the pleasantest remembrances of France is, having heard +this sung to a Barrel-organ, and chorus'd by the Hearers (who had bought +the Song-books) one fine Evening on the Paris Boulevards, June: 1830.' + +{34a} Haydon entered these verses in his Diary for May, 1846: 'The +struggle is severe, for myself I care not, but for her so dear to me I +feel. It presses on her mind, and in a moment of pain, she wrote the +following simple bit of feeling to Frederick, who is in South America, on +Board _The Grecian_.' There are seven stanzas in the original, but +FitzGerald has omitted in his transcript the third and fourth and +slightly altered one or two of the lines. He called them 'A poor +Mother's Verses.' + +{34b} See 'Letters,' ii. 280. + +{37} Burns, quoted from memory as usual. See Globe Edition, p. 214; ed. +Cunningham, iv. 293. + +{38} Greville Sartoris was killed by a fall from his horse, not in the +hunting-field, 23 Oct. 1873. + +{39} 'Rage' in the original. See Tales of the Hall, Book XII. Sir Owen +Dale. + +{40} Quoting from Peacock's 'Headlong Hall':-- + + 'Nature had but little clay + Like that of which she moulded him.' + +See 'Letters,' i. 75, note. + +{42} 18 April 1874. Professor Hiram Corson endeavoured to maintain the +correctness of the reading of the Folios in Antony and Cleopatra, v. 2. +86-88: + + 'For his Bounty, + There was no winter in 't. An _Anthony_ it was, + That grew the more by reaping.' + +Spedding admirably defended Theobald's certain emendation of 'autumn' for +'Anthony.' + +{43} These lines are not to be found in Crabbe, so far as I can +ascertain, but they appear to be a transformation of two which occur in +the Parish Register, Part II., in the story of Phebe Dawson (Works, ii. +183): + + 'Friend of distress! The mourner feels thy aid; + She cannot pay thee, but thou wilt be paid.' + +They had taken possession of FitzGerald's memory in their present shape, +for in a letter to me, dated 5 Nov. 1877, speaking of the poet's son, who +was Vicar of Bredfield, he says: "It is now just twenty years since the +Brave old Boy was laid in Bredfield Churchyard. Two of his Father's +Lines might make Epitaph for some good soul:-- + + 'Friend of the Poor, the Wretched, the Betray'd; + They cannot pay thee--but thou shalt be paid.' + +Pas mal ca, eh!" + +{45a} In a letter to me dated October 29th, 1871, FitzGerald says:-- + + "A suggestion that casually fell from old Spedding's lips (I forget + how long ago) occurred to me the other day. Instead of + + 'Do such business as the bitter day,' + +read 'better day'--a certain Emendation, I think. I hope you take +Spedding into your Counsel; he might be induced to look over one Play at +a time though he might shrink from all in a Body; and I scarce ever heard +him conning a page of Shakespeare but he suggested something which was an +improvement--on Shakespeare himself, if not on his Editors--though don't +[tell] Spedding that I say so, for God's sake." + +{45b} In 'Notes and Queries,' April 18th, 1874. + +{48a} Lord Hertford + +{48b} Frank Carr Beard, the friend and medical adviser of Dickens and +Wilkie Collins. + +{49a} See Lockhart's 'Life of Scott,' vii. 394. 'About half-past one, +P.M., on the 21st of September, [1832], Sir Walter breathed his last, in +the presence of all his children. It was a beautiful day--so warm that +every window was wide open, and so perfectly still, that the sound of all +others most delicious to his ear, the gentle ripple of the Tweed over its +pebbles, was distinctly audible as we knelt around the bed, and his +eldest son kissed and closed his eyes.' + +{49b} Dryburgh. + +{49c} The North West Passage. The 'Old Sea Captain' was Trelawny. + +{50a} See 'Letters,' ii. 173-4. + +{50b} E. F. S. Pigott. + +{52} See 'Letters,' ii. 172. + +{53a} Not _Macmillan_, but _Cornhill Magazine_, Dec. 1863, 'On the +Stage.' See Letter of 24 Aug. 1875. + +{53b} "Pasta, the great lyric tragedian, who, Mrs. Siddons said, was +capable of giving her lessons, replied to the observation, 'Vous avez du +beaucoup etudier l'antique.' 'Je l'ai beaucoup senti.'"--From Mrs. +Kemble's article 'On the Stage' ('Cornhill,' 1863), reprinted as an +Introduction to her Notes upon some of Shakespeare's Plays. + +{53c} 'Causeries du Lundi,' xiv. 234. + +{53d} Lettre de Viard a M. Walpole, in 'Lettres de Madame du Deffand,' +iv. 178 (Paris, 1824). FitzGerald probably read it in Ste. Beuve, +'Causeries du Lundi,' i. 405. + +{54} Cedars, not yew. See Memoirs of Chorley, ii. 240. + +{55} In Tales of the Hall, Book XI. ('Works,' vi. 284), quoted from +memory. + +{56} Virgil, AEn. vi. 127. + +{57a} Referring to the well-known print of 'Remarkable Characters who +were at Tunbridge Wells with Richardson in 1748.' + +{57b} James Spedding. + +{59a} In the original draft of Tales of the Hall, Book VI. + +{59b} See Memoirs of Chateaubriand, written by himself, Eng. trans. 1849 +p. 123. At the Chateau of Combourg in Brittany, 'When supper was over, +and the party of four had removed from the table to the chimney, my +mother would throw herself, with a sigh, upon an old cotton-covered sofa, +and near her was placed a little stand with a light. I sat down by the +fire with Lucile; the servants removed the supper-things, and retired. My +father then began to walk up and down, and never ceased until his +bedtime. He wore a kind of white woollen gown, or rather cloak, such as +I have never seen with anyone else. His head, partly bald, was covered +with a large white cap, which stood bolt upright. When, in the course of +his walk, he got to a distance from the fire, the vast apartment was so +ill-lighted by a single candle that he could be no longer seen, he could +still be heard marching about in the dark, however, and presently +returned slowly towards the light, and emerged by degrees from obscurity, +looking like a spectre, with his white robe and cap, and his tall, thin +figure.' + +{64a} 'The Mighty Magician' and 'Such Stuff as Dreams are made of.' + +{64b} See Winter's Tale, iv. 4, 118-120. + +{65} 'Euphranor.' + +{67} See 'Letters,' ii. 180. + +{68} Sir Arthur Helps died March 7th, 1875. + +{69} The Passage of Carlyle to which FitzGerald refers is perhaps in +'Anti-Dryasdust,' in the Introduction to Cromwell's Letters and Speeches. +'By very nature it is a labyrinth and chaos, this that we call Human +History; an _abatis_ of trees and brushwood, a world-wide jungle, at once +growing and dying. Under the green foliage and blossoming fruit-trees of +To-day, there lie, rotting slower or faster, the forests of all other +Years and Days. Some have rotted fast, plants of annual growth, and are +long since quite gone to inorganic mould; others are like the aloe, +growths that last a thousand or three thousand years.' Ste. Beuve, in +his 'Nouveaux Lundis' (iv. 295), has a similar remark: 'Pour un petit +nombre d'arbres qui s'elevent de quelques pieds au-dessus de terre et qui +s'apercoivent de loin, il y a partout, en litterature, de cet humus et de +ce detrius vegetal, de ces feuilles accumulees et entassees qu'on ne +distingue pas, si l'on ne se baisse.' At the end of his copy FitzGerald +has referred to this as 'Carlyle's Peat.' + +{71} In The Gamester. See 'Macready's Reminiscences,' i. 54-57. + +{72a} In Rowe's Tamerlane. See 'Macready's Reminiscences,' i. 202. + +{72b} Probably the English Tragedy, which was finished in October 1838. +See 'Records of Later Days,' ii. 168. + +{74} In the _Transactions of the New Shakspere Society_ for 1875-76. The +surviving editor of the 'Cambridge Shakspeare' does not at all feel that +Spedding's criticism 'smashed' the theory which was only put forward as a +tentative solution of a perhaps insoluble problem. + +{75a} See 'Letters,' ii. 177. + +{75b} See 'Letters,' ii. 198, 228, and Boswell's 'Johnson' (ed. Birkbeck +Hill), iv. 193. + +{77} FitzGerald wrote to me about the same time: + + "Spedding has (you know) a delicious little Paper about the Merchant + of Venice in July _Fraser_:--but I think he is wrong in subordinating + Shylock to the Comedy Part. If that were meant to be so, Williams + ['the divine Williams,' as some Frenchman called Shakespeare] + miscalculated, throwing so much of his very finest writing into the + Jew's Mouth, the downright human Nature of which makes all the Love- + Story Child's play, though very beautiful Child's play indeed." + +{78} 'On the Stage,' in the _Cornhill Magazine_ for December 1863 +Reprinted as an Introduction to Mrs. Kemble's 'Notes upon some of +Shakespeare's Plays.' + +{79} See his 'Life and Letters,' p. 46. + +{80} In the _Cornhill Magazine_ for July 1875, The Merchant of Venice at +the Prince of Wales's Theatre. + +{82a} 'The Enterprising Impresario' by Walter Maynard (Thomas Willert +Beale), 1867, pp 273-4. + +{82b} Beginning, 'A spirit haunts the year's last hours.' It first +appeared in the poems of 1830, p. 67, and is now included in Tennyson's +Collected Works. See 'Letters,' ii. 256. + +{82c} By Sir Gilbert Elliot, father of the first Lord Minto. The query +appeared 25 Sept. 1875 ('N. & Q.' 5th Series, iv. 247), and two answers +are given at p. 397, but not by E. F.G. + +{83} See 'Letters,' ii. 185. + +{84} The _Atlantic Monthly_ for August, September, and October 1875. + +{85a} _Atlantic Monthly_, August 1875, p. 167, by T. S. Perry. + +{85b} _Ibid._, p. 240. + +{86} From Oct. 30 to Nov. 4. + +{87a} The Trial of Queen Katharine in _Henry VIII_. Charles Kemble +acted Cromwell. + +{87b} _Atlantic Monthly_, August 1875, p. 165. + +{88a} 'The Exile,' quoted from memory. + +{88b} See letter of August 24, 1875. + +{89} _Atlantic Monthly_, August 1875, p. 156. + +{90a} Thomas Griffiths Wainewright. De Quincey's account of him is in +his essay on Charles Lamb ('Works,' ed. 1862, viii. 146). His career was +the subject of a story by Dickens, called 'Hunted Down.' + +{90b} Minnie Thackeray (Mrs. Leslie Stephen) died Nov. 28. + +{91} About the same time he wrote to me:-- + + 'A dozen years ago I entreated Annie Thackeray, Smith & Elder, &c., to + bring out a Volume of Thackeray's better Drawings. Of course they + wouldn't--now Windus and Chatto have, you know, brought out a Volume + of his inferior: and now Annie T. S. & E. prepare a Volume--when it is + not so certain to pay, at any rate, as when W. M. T. was the Hero of + the Day. However, I send them all I have: pretty confident they will + select the worst; of course, for my own part, I would rather have any + other than copies of what I have: but I should like the World to + acknowledge he could do something beside the ugly and ridiculous. + Annie T. sent me the enclosed Specimen: very careless, but full of + Character. I can see W. M. T. drawing it as he was telling one about + his Scotch Trip. That disputatious Scotchman in the second Row with + Spectacles, and--teeth. You may know some who will be amused at + this:--but send it back, please: no occasion to write beside.' + +{92} When I was preparing the first edition of FitzGerald's Letters I +wrote to Mrs. Kemble for permission to quote the passage from her Gossip +which is here referred to. She replied (11 Dec. 1883):-- + + 'I have no objection whatever to your quoting what I said of Edward + Fitzgerald in the _Atlantic Monthly_, but I suppose you know that it + was omitted from Bentley's publication of my book at Edward's _own + desire_. He did not certainly knock me on the head with Dr. Johnson's + sledge-hammer, but he did make me feel painfully that I had been + guilty of the impertinence of praising.' + +I did not then avail myself of the permission so readily granted, but I +venture to do so now, in the belief that the publicity from which his +sensitive nature shrank during his lifetime may now without impropriety +be given to what was written in all sincerity by one of his oldest and +most intimate friends. It was Mrs. Kemble who described him as 'an +eccentric man of genius, who took more pains to avoid fame than others do +to seek it,' and this description is fully borne out by the account she +gave of him in the offending passage which follows:-- + + "That Mrs. Fitzgerald is among the most vivid memories of my girlish + days. She and her husband were kind and intimate friends of my father + and mother. He was a most amiable and genial Irish gentleman, with + considerable property in Ireland and Suffolk, and a fine house in + Portland Place, and had married his cousin, a very handsome, clever, + and eccentric woman. I remember she always wore a bracelet of his + hair, on the massive clasp of which were engraved the words, '_Stesso + sangue_, _stessa sorte_.' I also remember, as a feature of sundry + dinners at their house, the first gold dessert and table ornaments + that I ever saw, the magnificence of which made a great impression + upon me; though I also remember their being replaced, upon Mrs. + Fitzgerald's wearying of them, by a set of ground glass and dead and + burnished silver, so exquisite that the splendid gold service was + pronounced infinitely less tasteful and beautiful. One member of her + family--her son Edward Fitzgerald--has remained my friend till this + day. His parents and mine are dead. Of his brothers and sisters I + retain no knowledge, but with him I still keep up an affectionate and + to me most valuable and interesting correspondence. He was + distinguished from the rest of his family, and indeed from most + people, by the possession of very rare intellectual and artistic + gifts. A poet, a painter, a musician, an admirable scholar and + writer, if he had not shunned notoriety as sedulously as most people + seek it, he would have achieved a foremost place among the eminent men + of his day, and left a name second to that of very few of his + contemporaries. His life was spent in literary leisure, or literary + labours of love of singular excellence, which he never cared to + publish beyond the circle of his intimate friends: Euphranor, + Polonius, collections of dialogues full of keen wisdom, fine + observation, and profound thought; sterling philosophy written in the + purest, simplest, and raciest English; noble translations, or rather + free adaptations of Calderon's two finest dramas, The Wonderful + Magician and Life's a Dream, and a splendid paraphrase of the + Agamemnon of AEschylus, which fills its reader with regret that he + should not have _Englished_ the whole of the great trilogy with the + same severe sublimity. In America this gentleman is better known by + his translation or adaptation (how much more of it is his own than the + author's I should like to know if I were Irish) of Omar Khayyam, the + astronomer-poet of Persia. Archbishop Trench, in his volume on the + life and genius of Calderon, frequently refers to Mr. Fitzgerald's + translations, and himself gives a version of Life's a Dream, the + excellence of which falls short, however, of his friend's finer + dramatic poem bearing the same name, though he has gallantly attacked + the difficulty of rendering the Spanish in English verse. While these + were Edward Fitzgerald's studies and pursuits, he led a curious life + of almost entire estrangement from society, preferring the + companionship of the rough sailors and fishermen of the Suffolk coast + to that of lettered folk. He lived with them in the most friendly + intimacy, helping them in their sea ventures, and cruising about with + one, an especially fine sample of his sort, in a small fishing-smack + which Edward Fitzgerald's bounty had set afloat, and in which the + translator of Calderon and AEschylus passed his time, better pleased + with the fellowship and intercourse of the captain and crew of his + small fishing craft than with that of more educated and sophisticated + humanity. He and his brothers were school-fellows of my eldest + brother under Dr. Malkin, the master of the grammar school of Bury St. + Edmunds." + +{94} Mrs. Kemble's letter was written with a typewriter (see 'Further +Records,' i. 198, 240, 247). It was given by FitzGerald to Mr. F. +Spalding, now of the Colchester Museum, through whose kindness I am +enabled to quote it:-- + +'YORK FARM, BRANCHTOWN. +'_Tuesday_, _Dec._ 14. 1875. + +'MY DEAR EDWARD FITZGERALD, + +'I have got a printing-machine and am going to try and write to you upon +it and see if it will suit your eyes better than my scrawl of +handwriting. Thank you for the Photographs and the line of music; I know +that old bit of tune, it seems to me. I think Mr. Irving's face more +like Young's than my Father's. Tom Taylor, years ago, told me that Miss +Ellen Terry would be a consummate comic actress. Portia should never be +without some one to set her before the Public. She is my model woman.' + +{97a} See 'Letters,' ii. 192 + +{97b} See the _Athenaeum_ for Jan. 1, 15, 22, 29, 1876. + +{100} In her 'Further Records,' i. 250, Mrs. Kemble wrote, March 11th, +1876:-- + + 'Last week my old friend Edward Fitzgerald (Omar Kyam, you know), sent + me a beautiful miniature of my mother, which his mother--her intimate + friend--had kept till her death, and which had been painted for Mrs. + Fitzgerald. It is a full-length figure, very beautifully painted, and + very like my mother. Almost immediately after receiving this from + England, my friend Mr. Horace Furness came out to see me. He is a + great collector of books and prints, and brought me an old engraving + of my mother in the character of Urania, which a great many years ago + I remember to have seen, and which was undoubtedly the original of + Mrs. Fitzgerald's miniature. I thought the concidence of their both + reaching me at the same time curious.' + +{105} On July 22nd, 1880, he wrote to me:--"I am still reading her! And +could make a pretty Introduction to her; but Press-work is hard to me +now, and nobody would care for what I should do, when done. Mrs. Edwards +has found me a good Photo of 'nos pauvres Rochers,' a straggling old +Chateau, with (I suppose) the Chapel which her old 'Bien Bon' Uncle built +in 1671--while she was talking to her Gardener Pilois and reading +Montaigne, Moliere, Pascal, _or_ Cleopatra, among the trees she had +planted. Bless her! I should like to have made Lamb like her, in spite +of his anti-gallican Obstinacy." + +{106} Mrs. Charles Donne, daughter of John Mitchell Kemble, died April +15th, 1876. + +{107} First acted April 18th, 1876. + +{108a} See 'Letters,' ii. 293. + +{108b} See 'Letters,' ii. 198. + +{109a} _Atlantic Monthly_, June 1876, p. 719. + +{109b} Which opened May 10th, 1876. + +{110} In one of his Common Place Books FitzGerald has entered from the +_Monthly Mirror_ for 1807 the following passage of Rousseau on Stage +Scenery--'Ils font, pour epouventer, un Fracas de Decorations sans Effet. +Sur la scene meme il ne faut pas tout dire a la Vue: mais ebranler +l'Imagmation.' + +{111} For April and May 1876: 'The Latest Theory about Bacon.' + +{113a} See letter of October 4th, 1875 + +{113b} See 'Letters,' ii. 202-205. + +{113c} This card is now in my possession, 'Mr. Alfred Tennyson. +Farringford.' On it is written in pencil, "Dear old Fitz--I am passing +thro' and will call again. [The last three words are crossed out and 'am +here' is written over them]. A.T." FitzGerald enclosed it to Thompson +(Master of Trinity) and wrote on the back, 'P.S. Since writing, this +card was sent in: the Writer followed with his Son: and here we all are +as if twenty years had not passed since we met.' + +{114a} About the same time he wrote to me:--"Tennyson came here suddenly +ten days ago--with his Son Hallam, whom I liked much. It was a Relief to +find a Young Gentleman not calling his Father 'The Governor' but +even--'Papa,' and tending him so carefully in all ways. And nothing of +'awfully jolly,' etc. I put them up at the Inn--Bull--as my own House +was in a sort of Interregnum of Painting, within and without: and I knew +they would be well provided at 'John Grout's'--as they were. Tennyson +said he had not found such Dinners at Grand Hotels, etc. And John +(though a Friend of Princes of all Nations--Russian, French, Italian, +etc.--who come to buy Horse flesh) was gratified at the Praise: though he +said to me 'Pray, Sir, what is the name of the Gentleman?'" + +{114b} On September 11th, 1877, he wrote to me: 'You ought to have +Hugo's French Shakespeare: it is not wonderful to see how well a German +Translation thrives:--but French Prose--no doubt better than French +Verse. When I was looking over King John the other day I knew that +Napoleon would have owned it as the thing he craved for in the Theatre: +as also the other Historical Plays:--not Love of which one is sick: but +the Business of Men. He said this at St. Helena, or elsewhere.' + +{115} It was in 1867. See 'Letters,' ii. 90, 94. + +{116} Life, vi. 215. Letter to Lockhart, January 15th, 1826. + +{117a} These expressions must not be looked for in the Decameron, as +'emendato secondo l'ordine del Sacro Concilio di Trento.' + +{117b} See 'Letters,' ii. 203. In a letter to me dated November 4th, +1876, he says:-- + +"I have taken refuge from the Eastern Question in Boccaccio, just as the +'piacevoli Donne' who tell the Stories escaped from the Plague. I +suppose one must read this in Italian as my dear Don in Spanish: the +Language of each fitting the Subject 'like a Glove.' But there is +nothing to come up to the Don and his Man." + +{118} Book XVIII., vol. vii. p. 188. + +{119a} See 'Letters,' ii. 208. + +{119b} Gillies' Memoirs of a Literary Veteran. See Letters, ii. 197, +199. + +{120a} An Ode for the Fourth of July, 1876. + +{120b} Mr. Wade, author of _The Jew of Aragon_, which failed. Mrs. +Kemble says (_Atlantic Monthly_, December 1876, p. 707):-- + + "I was perfectly miserable when the curtain fell, and the poor young + author, as pale as a ghost, came forward to meet my father at the side + scene, and bravely holding out his hand to him said, 'Never mind, Mr. + Kemble, I'll do better another time.'" + +{120c} Francisco Javier Elio, a Spanish General, was executed in 1822 +for his seventies against the liberals dining the reactionary period 1814- +1820. + +{122a} _Atlantic Monthly_, February 1877, p. 222. + +{122b} Holbrook, near Ipswich. That she had also some of the family +humour is evident from what she wrote to Mr. Crabbe of her brother's +early life. 'As regards spiritual advantages out of the house he had +none; for our Pastor was one of the old sort, with a jolly red nose +caused by good cheer. He used to lay his Hat and Whip on the Communion +Table and gabble over the service, running down the Pulpit Stairs not to +lose the opportunity of being invited to a good dinner at the Hall.' It +was with reference to his sister's husband that FitzGerald in +conversation with Tennyson used the expression 'A Mr. Wilkinson, a +clergyman.' + +'Why, Fitz,' said Tennyson, 'that's a verse, and a very bad one too.' And +they would afterwards humorously contend for the authorship of the worst +line in the English language. + +{123} _Atlantic Monthly_, February 1877, pp. 210, 211, and pp. 220, 221. + +{124a} See note to Letter of Dec. 29_th_ 1875. + +{124b} For November 1875, in an article called 'The Judgment of Paris,' +p. 400. + +{125a} See 'Letters,' ii. 217. This is in my possession. + +{125b} It came to an end in April 1877. In a letter to Miss St. Leger, +December 31st, 1876 ('Further Records,' ii. 33), Mrs. Kemble says, 'You +ask me how I mean to carry on the publication of my articles in the +_Atlantic Magazine_ when I leave America; but I do not intend to carry +them on. The editor proposed to me to do so, but I thought it would +entail so much trouble and uncertainty in the transmission of manuscript +and proofs, that it would be better to break off when I came to Europe. +The editor will have manuscript enough for the February, March, and April +numbers when I come away, and with those I think the series must close. +As there is no narrative or sequence of events involved in the +publication, it can, of course, be stopped at any moment; a story without +an end can end anywhere.' + +{126} See letter of December 29th, 1875. + +{127a} 15, Connaught Square. See 'Further Records,' ii. 42, etc. + +{127b} Valentia Donne marred the Rev. R. F. Smith, minor Canon of +Southwell, May 24th, 1877. + +{131a} 'We might say in a short word, which means a long matter, that +your Shakespeare fashions his characters from the heart outwards, your +Scott fashions them from the skin inwards, never getting near the heart +of them.'--Carlyle, 'Miscellanies,' vi. 69 (ed. 1869), 'Sir Walter Scott' + +{131b} Procter, 'Autobiographical Fragments,' p. 154. + +{134a} February 9th, 1878. + +{134b} It was not in the _Fortnightly_ but in the _Nineteenth Century_. + +{134c} This portrait is in my possession. FitzGerald fastened it in a +copy of the 'Poems chiefly Lyrical' (1830) which he gave me bound up with +the 'Poems' of 1833. He wrote underneath, 'Done in a Steamboat from +Gravesend to London, Jan: 1842.' + +{135a} Criticisms and Elucidations of Catullus by H. A. J. Munro. + +{135b} See 'Letters,' ii. 233, 235, 236, 238, 239. + +{136} See 'Letters,' ii. 247. + +{138a} See 'Letters,' ii. 243. + +{138b} See 'Letters,' ii. 248. + +{145} See 'Letters,' ii. 265. + +{146} II. 166 (ed. 1826). + +{149} John Purcell FitzGerald died at Boulge, May 4th, 1879. + +{151a} See letter of May 5th, 1877. + +{151b} In a letter to me dated May 7th, 1879, he says:-- + + 'I see by Athenaeum that Charles Tennyson (Turner) is dead. _Now_ + people will begin to talk of his beautiful Sonnets: small, but + original, things, as well as beautiful. Especially after that + somewhat absurd Sale of the Brothers' early Editions.' + +{152} Gay, _The Beggar's Opera_, Act III, Air 57. + +{153} Professor Skeat's Inaugural Lecture, in _Macmillan's Magazine_ for +February 1879, pp. 304-313. + +{154} Mrs. Sartoris, Mrs. Kemble's sister, died August 4, 1879. See +'Further Records,' ii. 277. + +{155} Edwin Edwards, who died September 15. See 'Letters,' ii. 277. + +{157} In a letter to me of September 29 1879, he says, "My object in +going to London is, to see poor Mrs. Edwards, who writes me that she has +much collapsed in strength (no wonder!) after the Trial she endured for +near three years more or less, and, you know, a very hard light for the +last year . . . + +"Besides her, Mrs. Kemble, who has lately lost her Sister, and returned +from Switzerland to London just at a time when most of her Friends are +out of it--_she_ wants to see me, an old Friend of hers and her Family's, +whom she has not seen for more than twenty years. So I do hope to do my +'petit possible' to solace both these poor Ladies at the same time." + +{158} On September 11 he wrote to me, 'Ah, pleasant Dunwich Days! I +should never know a better Boy than Edwards, nor a braver little Wife +than her, were I to live six times as long as I am like to do.' + +{160} See letter of October 4, 1875. + +{161} Mrs. Leigh's son, Pierce Butler, was born on Sunday, November 2, +1879. + +{162} See 'Letters,' ii. 326. + +{163a} Mrs. Kemble appears to have adopted this suggestion. In her +'Records of a Girlhood,' ii. 41, she says of Sir Thomas Lawrence, 'He +came repeatedly to consult with my mother about the disputed point of my +dress, and gave his sanction to her decision upon it. The first dress of +Belvidera [in _Venice Preserved_], I remember, was a point of nice +discussion between them. . . . I was allowed (not, however, without +serious demur on the part of Lawrence) to cover my head with a black hat +and white feather.' + +{163b} William Mason. + +{166} November 10, 1879. + +{168} Mrs. De Soyres died at Exeter, December 11, 1879. + +{169} Played at St. James's Theatre, December 18, 1879. + +{171} 'The Duke's Children.' + +{173} Probably the 'Records of Later Life,' published in 1882. + +{174} On 1st February 1880, FitzGerald wrote to me:--"Do you know what +'Stub Iron' is? (I do), and what 'Heel-taps' derives from, which Mrs. +Kemble asks, and I cannot tell her." This is probably the query referred +to. + +{175} Beginning 'As men may children at their sports behold!'--Tales of +the Hall, book xxi., at the end of 'Smugglers and Poachers.' + +{176} In the _Cornhill Magazine_, March 1880, 'The Story of the Merchant +of Venice.' + +{179} 'An Eye-witness of John Kemble,' by Sir Theodore Martin. The eye- +witness is Tieck. + +{180a} This letter was written on a Tuesday, and April 6 was a Tuesday +in 1880. Moreover, in 1880, at Easter, Donne's house was in quarantine. +FitzGerald probably had the advanced sheets of the _Atlantic Monthly_ for +May from Professor Norton as early as the beginning of April. + +{180b} The _Atlantic Monthly_ for May 1880, contained an article by Mr. +G. E. Woodberry on Crabbe, 'A Neglected Poet.' See letter to Professor +Norton, May 1, 1880, in 'Letters,' ii. 281. + +{181a} No. 39, where FitzGerald's father and mother lived. See 'Records +of a Girlhood,' iii. 28. + +{181b} See 'Letters,' ii. 138. + +{183a} It was Queen Catharine. When Mrs. Siddons called upon Johnson in +1783, he "particularly asked her which of Shakespeare's characters she +was most pleased with. Upon her answering that she thought the character +of Queen Catharine, in _Henry the Eighth_, the most natural:--'I think so +too, Madam, (said he;) and when ever you perform it, I will once more +hobble out to the theatre myself.'"--Boswell's 'Life of Johnson' (ed. +Birkbeck Hill), iv. 242. + +{183b} See letters of February and December 1881. + +{184a} See 'Letters,' ii. 244, 249. + +{184b} On June 30, 1880, he wrote to me, 'Half her Beauty is the liquid +melodiousness of her language--all unpremeditated as a Blackbird's.' + +{186} See letter of May 5, 1877. + +{187} In a letter to me of the same date he wrote: 'Last night when Miss +Tox was just coming, like a good Soul, to ask about the ruined Dombey, we +heard a Splash of Rain, and I had the Book shut up, and sat listening to +the Shower by myself--till it blew over, I am sorry to say, and no more +of the sort all night. But we are thankful for that small mercy. + +'I am reading through my Sevigne again--welcome as the flowers of May.' + +{188a} On June 9, 1879, FitzGerald wrote to me: "I was from Tuesday to +Saturday last in Norfolk with my old Bredfield Party--George, not very +well: and, as he has not written to tell me he is better, I am rather +anxious. You should know him; and his Country: which is still the old +Country which we have lost here; small enclosures, with hedgeway timber: +green gipsey drift-ways: and Crome Cottage and Farmhouse of that +beautiful yellow 'Claylump' with red pantile roof'd--not the d---d Brick +and Slate of these parts." + +{188b} See 'Letters,' ii. 290. + +{190} See letter of Madame de Sevigne to Madame de Grignan, June 15, +1689. + +{191} In one of FitzGerald's Common Place Books he gives the story thus: +"When Chancellor Cheverny went home in his Old Age and for the last time, +'Messieurs' (dit-il aux Gentilshommes du Canton accourus pour le saluer), +'Je ressemble au bon Lievre qui vient mourir au Gite.'" + +{192a} Tom Taylor died July 12, 1880. + +{192b} On July 16 FitzGerald wrote to me: 'Not being assured that you +were back from Revision, I wrote yesterday to Cowell asking him--and you, +when returned--to call on Professor Goodwin, of American Cambridge, who +goes to-morrow to your Cambridge--to see--if not to stay with--Mr. Jebb. +Mr. Goodwin proposed to give me a look here before he went to Cambridge: +but I told him I could not bear the thought of his coming all this way +for such a purpose. I think you can witness that I do not wish even old +English Friends to take me except on their way elsewhere: and for an +American Gentleman! It is not affectation to say that any such proposal +worried me. So what must I do but ask him to be sure to see Messrs. +Wright and Cowell when he got to Cambridge: and spend part of one of his +days there in going to Bury, and (even if he cared not for the Abbey with +its Abbot Samson and Jocelyn) to sit with a Bottle of light wine at the +Angel window, face to face with that lovely Abbey gate. Perhaps Cowell, +I said, might go over with him--knowing and loving Gothic--that was a +liberty for me to take with Cowell, but he need not go--I did not hint at +you. I suppose I muddled it all. But do show the American Gentleman +some civilities, to make amends for the disrespect which you and Cowell +told me of in April.' + +{193} The defeat of General Burrows by Ayoub Khan, announced in the +House of Commons, July 28, 1880. On July 29 further telegrams reported +that General Burrows and other officers had arrived at Candahar after the +defeat. + +{194} The date should be September 19, which was a Sunday in 1880. Full +moon was on September 18. + +{197} In her 'Further Records,' i. 295, Mrs. Kemble says, 'Russia +leather, you know, is almost an element of the atmosphere of my rooms, as +all the shades of violet and purple are of their colouring, so that my +familiar friends associate the two with their notions of my habitat.' + +{198} See 'Life of Crabbe,' p. 262. + +{200} See 'Letters,' ii. 295. + +{201a} On 'The Story of the Merchant of Venice' in the _Cornhill +Magazine_ for March 1880. + +{201b} 'Ballads and other Poems,' 1880. + +{202} _Kelter_, condition, order. Forby's 'Vocabulary of East Anglia.' + +{203a} See 'Letters,' ii. 110 + +{203b} 'Medusa and other Tales' (1868), republished in 1880 with a +preface by her daughter, Mrs. Gordon. + +{205} Full moon February 14th. + +{206a} Acted at the Lyceum, January 3rd, 1881. + +{206b} For February 1881. + +{210} See letters of April 23rd, 1880, and December 1881. + +{211a} See 'Letters,' ii. 180, 320. + +{211b} Printed in 'Letters,' ii. 298-301. + +{214} Partly printed in 'Letters,' ii. 305-7. + +{216a} Printed in 'Letters,' ii. 310-312. + +{216b} April 17th was Easter Day in 1881. + +{217} Madame de Sevigne writes from Chaulnes, April 17th, 1689, 'A peine +le vert veut-il montrer le nez; pas un rossignol encore; enfin, l'hiver +le 17 d'Avril.' + +{218} In _Macmillan's Magazine_ for April 1881. + +{219} Partly printed in 'Letters,' ii. 313. + +{221} Partly printed in 'Letters,' ii. 312. + +{227a} On Madame de Sevigne. + +{227b} Published in 1882 as 'Records of Later Life.' + +{227c} See letter of August 24th, 1875. + +{230} Partly printed in 'Letters,' ii. 320-1. + +{231} The correct date is 1794-1805. + +{233} 'Evenings with a Reviewer.' The Reviewer was Macaulay, and the +review the Essay on Bacon. + +{234a} At Boulge. + +{234b} He was in London from February 17th to February 20th. + +{236} See 'Letters,' ii. 324-6. + +{237a} Full moon April 3rd, 1882. + +{237b} 'Thomas Carlyle. The Man and His Books.' By W. H. Wylie. 1881, +p. 363. + +{241a} On May 7 FitzGerald wrote to me from Lowestoft: + + "I too am taking some medicine, which, whatever effect it has on me, + leaves an indelible mark on Mahogany: for (of course) I spilled a lot + on my Landlady's Chiffonier, and found her this morning rubbing at the + 'damned Spot' with Turpentine, and in vain." + +And two days later: + + "I was to have gone home to-day: but Worthington wishes me to stay, at + any rate, till the week's end, by which time he thinks to remove what + he calls 'a Crepitation' in one lung, by help of the Medicine which + proved its power on the mahogany. Yesterday came a Cabinet-maker, who + was for more than half an hour employed in returning that to its + 'sound and pristine health,' or such as I hope my Landlady will be + satisfied with." + +{241b} Serjeant Ballantine's 'Experiences of a Barrister's Life' +appeared in March 1882. + +{241c} Full moon was June 1st, 1882. + +{243a} W. B. Donne died June 20th, 1882. + +{243b} This letter is in my possession, and as it indicates what Mr. +Froude's plan originally was, though he afterwards modified it, I have +thought it worth while to give it in full. + + '5 ONSLOW GARDENS, S.W. + '_May_ 19. + + 'DEAR MR. FITZGERALD, + + 'Certainly you are no stranger to me. I have heard so often from + Carlyle, and I have read so much in his letters, about your exertions, + and about your entertainment of him at various times, that I can + hardly persuade myself that I never saw you. + + 'The letters you speak of must be very interesting, and I would ask + you to let me see them if I thought that they were likely to be of use + to me; but the subject with which I have to deal is so vast that I am + obliged to limit myself, and so intricate that I am glad to be able to + limit myself. I shall do what Carlyle desired me to do, _i.e._ edit + the collection of his wife's letters, which he himself prepared for + publication. + + 'This gift or bequest of his governs the rest of my work. What I have + already done is an introduction to these letters. When they are + published I shall add a volume of personal recollections of his later + life; and this will be all. Had I been left unencumbered by special + directions I should have been tempted to leave his domestic history + untouched except on the outside, and have attempted to make a complete + biography out of the general materials. This I am unable to do, and + all that I can give the world will be materials for some other person + to use hereafter. I can explain no further the conditions of the + problem. But for my own share of it I have materials in abundance, + and I must avoid being tempted off into other matters however + important in themselves. + + 'I may add for myself that I did not seek this duty, nor was it + welcome to me. C. asked me to undertake it. When I looked through + the papers I saw how difficult, how, in some aspects of it, painful, + the task would be. + + 'Believe me, + 'faithfully yours, + 'J. A. FROUDE.' + +{245a} Printed in 'Letters,' ii. 332. + +{245b} July 30th. + +{247} Printed in 'Letters,' ii. 333. + +{248} Here begins second half-sheet, dated 'Monday, Sept. 5.' + +{249} Partly printed in 'Letters,' ii. 335. + +{250a} See letter of June 23rd, 1880. + +{250b} Reprinted in 'A Book of Sibyls,' 1883. + +{251a} _The Promise of May_ was acted at the Globe Theatre, November +11th, 1882. + +{251b} See letter of November 13th, 1879. + +{252a} Mrs. Wister's son. + +{252b} See letter of March 28th, 1880. + +{253a} 'John Leech and other Papers,' 1882. + +{253b} November 18th, 1882. + +{257} See 'Letters and Memorials of Jane Welsh Carlyle,' ii. 249. + +{259} For May 1883: 'Mrs. Carlyle.' + +{260} Tennyson's 'Brook.' + +{261} In a letter to Sir Frederick Pollock, March 16th, 1879, he says:-- + + "I have had Sir Walter read to me first of a Night, by way of Drama; + then ten minutes for Refreshment, and then Dickens for Farce. Just + finished the Pirate--as wearisome for Nornas, Minnas, Brendas, etc., + as any of the Scotch Set; but when the Common People have to talk, the + Pirates to quarrel and swear, then Author and Reader are at home; and + at the end I 'fare' to like this one the best of the Series. The Sea + scenery has much to do with this preference I dare say." + +{263} See 'Letters,' ii. 344. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LETTERS OF EDWARD FITZGERALD TO +FANNY KEMBLE (1871-1883)*** + + +******* This file should be named 21434.txt or 21434.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/1/4/3/21434 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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