Elizabeth Gilbert and Her Work for the Blind Part 5

Now don't make any more excuses about not writing. For my part I have forgiven you, at least since this delicious weather, for we have been out almost all day lately. Yesterday we walked to Abingdon, did some shopping, and came back before breakfast.

[Inquiries about friends follow, and then:] Question upon question; but no matter, answer another, who sent me the violets? though I think my guess is right. If it was Mr. Ashworth it was very kind, for I think they were the first he had found this spring. Take care what you put in your letters to grandpapa. The last but one was p.r.o.nounced by a judge whose opinion I am sure you will agree with, because you will think it right, to be very dignified and a perfect specimen of epistolography. There were cries of "It won't do" all through the letter. Do you think you shall come here soon? I begin to want to see some of you.

Bessie, as usual, had charge of one of the little girls. She writes: "I think Katie is improved since we have been here, but I cannot get her to get up; so please ask mamma to say what time she is to get up, for now it is not much before eight and often some time after."

Now to an elder sister who wants to do her shopping at Abingdon before breakfast, Miss Katie must have been a trial. But Bessie herself was by no means perfect in this respect. Some years later she and a sister about her own age paid a visit to an old lady, cousin of their father's, in Yorkshire. This cousin rose early, was very punctual, and expected her guests to be the same; but, "Say what I would," writes her sister, "I could not get Bessie up in the morning, not even though I represented that it made me appear to disregard Miss Dawson's wishes as well as herself, and was not fair. The only answer I could get was, 'I say nothing;' and the next morning she was as late as ever." Whether Mrs.

Gilbert was in this case also appealed to "to fix the hour" we are not told.

In the autumn Bessie is at home again, and, writing to her faithful Mary, she says: "The week after next our house must stretch a slight degree. There will be the Halls, the Churtons, the Woods from Broadwater (it was Mrs. Wood who fought for the teaching of reading in St. George's Schools thirteen years previously), the two Archdeacons, Mr. Garbett, Mr. Simpson, and another gentleman, all in the house; and Mr. Wagner, if he comes, will have a room at the inn. This will be something like--won't it? I think mamma liked her visit to----."

The Bishop, his wife, and one daughter, had been paying short visits to influential people in the county. The young lady sends home letters which show close and minute powers of observation and no small insight into character. The rooms, the pictures, the plate and china, all are described, and she ends by saying:

I suppose you will expect a comparison of the two families. The gentlemen are far superior at A----; and though B---- is more fascinating, and makes one feel for her as if one could do anything, yet A---- seems to me to be superior to her in strength of mind and also in acquirements. Lady C. is much younger than Lady D., much more in awe of her mother, and being plain, has not the appearance of being used to the homage of all around her like Lady D. So ends my long story of a short but pleasant time, and if it has tired your patience, at least you cannot complain of my not having given you a full account.

Looking over these letters, taken back into the past by the yellow paper, the faded ink, the old-fashioned writing, all angular and sloping, letters fresh and vivid with youth, intelligence, and goodness, one cannot but wonder if those written by a girl of seventeen, in these days of high pressure, will be such pleasant reading forty years hence.

Bessie was greatly interested in these visits, and she writes to Mary at Culham: "Mamma saw some beautiful miniatures of the Pretender, the Cardinal York and their sister the Princess Louisa. They were very small, and set in turquoises and diamonds. I believe that princess married the King of Sardinia."

The Rev. T. Lowe, Vicar of Willingdon, who left Chichester thirty-five years ago, says that he often met Bessie at the palace and in general society at Chichester; that he made use of every opportunity he had to cultivate her acquaintance. She liked to talk of music, and he "remembers well the sweet expression of her mobile features, declaring the peace and resignation that dwelt within. These, no doubt, made her so alive to all pleasures within her reach. It was a touching sight to see her joining, with evident enjoyment, in a quadrille at an evening party at home or elsewhere."

Mr. Lowe saw her occasionally after he left Chichester. She was interested in some blind persons in his parish. One she rescued from "the uncongenial life of the workhouse;" another acted as an agent for her society; and she was specially interested in a third, both blind and deaf, now dead. "Her sympathy with these sufferers was full of comfort to them; and as to them, so to all to whom it is known, the history of her long, patient suffering; of her submission to the heavy trial laid upon her; of her thankful enjoyment of the blessings granted her; of her loving endeavours to alleviate like suffering in others--will, I doubt not, bring forth good fruit in other hearts and other lives."

Mr. Wintle at Culham was now an aged man, and his infirm health gave much anxiety to Mrs. Gilbert. After she had left Oxford one or two of her daughters were nearly always with their grandfather. One of his latest letters, written from his Oxford lodgings, was to his favourite Blossom.

_27th November 1845._

MY DEAR BLOSSOM--As I have gained the reputation of not caring for what I do or say, why may I not scribble a scrawl to you containing what is found uppermost in my memorandum box? Not having been admitted a member of the Abingdon Literary and Scientific Society, you must look rather for trifles from a bagatelle warehouse than for graver subjects culled from the repository of useful and entertaining knowledge. But previous to opening my budget let me express a wish that I may soon hear from one of the numerous palace scribes of your mother's faceache having left her, and that you are all as well as the damps of November will permit of your being. As you probably knew nothing of my opposite neighbour Chaundy, hair-dresser and perfumer, perhaps you will nothing grieve at hearing that he is moving from the Corn Market to the High Street, nor will you be much interested in hearing that Mr. ---- tells his Oxford tradesmen that as he deals with them, he expects they will come to his shop and buy a pig of him. Possibly you may be amused by hearing that Mr. A. and Dr. B. have nominated five select preachers, all ultra low church, of whom Mr. C. is one, who takes an annuity of 500 from his parishioners in Holy Well, in preference to a living from his college. So would not I. [And so on through three pages of gossip ending:] And now with love to you all, affectionately am I yours, R. W.

In the spring of 1846 the Bishop and Mrs. Gilbert, with many but not all the daughters, were in the Isle of Wight. Mary was again at Culham with her grandfather, who was recovering from a serious illness, and had been out "in a sedan chair." Bessie writes full accounts: "You should have heard Nora begging to go. She has gained her point, you see;" and then follows a description of the little house at Ryde, of their visitors and friends, the books they were to read, etc. During this visit Bessie once walked from Ryde to Shanklin, and was proud of the achievement.

The Bishop's house in London at this time was in Green Street, Grosvenor Square. He and Mrs. Gilbert with some daughters were there in the early part of the year 1846, and Bessie was left in the post of honour, at home. The father writes to her without making any allowance for blindness. She is to give orders and arrange for their return just as Mary would have done.

MY DEAR BESSIE--I write to you as Mrs. House, Mrs. Pomona, Mrs.

Flora, _i.e._ as having, under your aunt and Miss Deiss, sovereign rule in the domestic, horticultural, and floral departments at Chichester, but not as Mrs. Ceres, as with respect to the farm I reserve the rule therein to John and Symonds, and Smoker and myself, which may account for the bad condition things in that department are in.... Now, in your domestic department let me suggest to you to order preparations for the return of the veritable heads of the family, possibly on Friday next, to dinner, but you may expect to hear again. Then, in the horticultural, know that a tub of regent potatoes, and eke a tub of blues, containing each about a sack, may daily be expected. They are to be used as seed at your and Holmes's discretion. Those which are not so used you may direct to be put from time to time into a pot and saved for dinner. In your floral department I do not presume to give any hint; the greater will be your responsibility if either violets are drooping or snowdrops and crocuses not in sufficient abundance.

Poor me! I am afraid they are all over, blossomed and gone while I have been smoke-dried here. But mind you show me something when I come, or I may prove a rat without a tail. Pray, why do none of you little p.u.s.s.es write to me? I desire I may have an olla podrida, a bit of something from every one, without delay. How do you think I am to get on here all by myself? Yes, indeed! Pray, look to it, Mrs. House, and mind your P's and Q's, and do not laugh, but let me have my letter from all in a cl.u.s.ter, and I daresay in a clatter too forthwith. So no more at present from your and their fond parent and most loving father, A. T. CHICHESTER.

I suppose you know poor aunt E. M. has left you her piano. If your grandpapa does not think it too large and would let it go to Culham, should you object?

In August 1846 Bessie completed a long poem founded on a belief "which prevails in parts of Burgundy, that the first flower which blossoms on the grave of a departed friend links the soul of the departed in eternal love to that of the person who gathers it." The verses are moderately smooth and pretty, but give no great promise of excellence in that department.

It is, however, characteristic of the writer that she represents the "departed friend" not as a lover, but as the father of the girl who has gathered the first blossom, and that she concludes:

And strength was given to her through prayer In patience all her woe to bear, Clearly her duty to discern, And never more her life to spurn.

She lived, not wrapt in selfish grief; Wherever she could give relief-- In poverty, sickness, or despair, A spirit of comfort, she was there; One of that heavenly sisterhood Who only live for others' good.

Such words are like a feather thrown up in the air, they show the direction of the prevailing current.

For two years longer the visits to Culham and Oxford recur at frequent intervals, and there is repeated mention of the names of old friends.

Every event of interest that affects them--births, deaths, marriages, arrivals, departures, promotions, bridesmaids' dresses--all are duly chronicled. Once we are told of two merry girls shut up with some of his pet MSS. by Mr. c.o.xe, the librarian of the Bodleian, who was too busy to join them. They emerged from his den in a state of enthusiasm which satisfied even his requirements; but they had to undergo a severe brushing from "his own clothes-brush and at his own hands," for, "learned dust as it was, we could not carry it through Oxford."

In 1847 the youngest brother, Tom, met with an alarming accident at Westminster School. By some means when preparing to act in a play his cloak caught fire, and he was almost burnt to death. Bessie used to tell how the little fellow was found kneeling with raised hands, and praying aloud, in the midst of a crowd of terrified boys, whilst the flames leapt up above his head. He was so much injured that it was more than a year before he recovered. His first letter, written with the left hand and the greater part of it unintelligible, is to Bessie. He is the little boy who was pulling daisies for her in Magdalen Gardens, and telling of their golden centres.

In 1848 Mr. Wintle died at Culham. Mrs. Gilbert was staying with him, and the Bishop with some of his daughters started at once for Oxford when he heard how serious the case had become. Mr. Wintle had expressed a special desire to see Bessie, but he was almost unconscious when she arrived. He was told that "Little Blossom" had come. "Where is she?" he asked, and with a last effort stretched out his hand towards her.

The pleasant home was henceforth closed to them, all silent and empty.

The great-uncle also pa.s.sed away in 1855, and though many friends remained, yet from this time Oxford recedes, and is no longer a second home.

At this period Martin Tupper resided at Brighton; and Bessie, who seems to have sent him a copy of "The Sea Gull," received from him a letter which she valued, and a copy of "A Hymn and a Chant for the Harvest Home of 1847, by the author of _Proverbial Philosophy_." He wrote as follows:

FURZE HILL, BRIGHTON, _23d August 1848_.

MY DEAR MISS BESSIE--An autograph of such affecting interest as that with which you have this morning so kindly favoured me, gives me the privilege of a letter of thanks in reply. And thank you I do very cordially; especially for having so soon and so amiably fulfilled your intention of honouring my verses with your melodious tones. When they are quite ready, I shall look forward with much interest to a ma.n.u.script copy; and I am not sure but that, some day or other, I shall run over and pay my respects at the palace, very much with the self-interested object of hearing you do justice to your own music. I am sure you will not refuse me this, especially as here we have no piano; not but that I will go _toute suite_ to ask Miss Wagner or the Fraulein to give me an idea of your "Sea Gull," so as not to be altogether ignorant of the "sweet sounds"

which you have married to Mary Howitt's "immortal verse." I have nothing here to offer you in return for your musical authorship, unless you might be pleased to accept "from the author" the enclosed. Pray make my best respects acceptable to your father and mother and sisters, and believe me, my dear Miss Bessie, your obliged and faithful friend, MARTIN J. TUPPER.

Miss Bessie Gilbert.

In 1849 Bessie, with two sisters and a brother, paid visits in Ireland.

One of her chief pleasures was in listening to the echoes at Killarney.

Wherever she went the young blind lady called out warm sympathy. On the way from Glengariffe to Cork they stopped at Gougon Barra to see the famous "Healing Well." The guide besought Bessie in the most earnest and pathetic manner to try the water, saying that he was sure it would restore her sight, and entreating her brother and sisters to urge her to make use of it.

This was the first time, since the visit to Liverpool, that she had been far from home, and she enjoyed her journey. She liked staying at hotels; the novelty was refreshing, and she liked the feeling that she also could travel and "see" the world.

The Bishop writes to Bessie on the 11th September 1849 from the "Old Ship private house," Brighton, as follows:--

Now I doubt not that you enjoyed the mountain scheme as well as any of them, and, with the aid of the mountain air, the potatoes too and milk of the cottagers, not omitting, however, I daresay, the more substantial viands which accompanied you from the Hospitable Hall. As for the wetting and all that, of course you treat that as heroines are bound to do--that is as trifles, where it is not convenient to exalt them above their true character.

The "Hospitable Hall" is that of Lismore, Archdeacon Cotton's house, where the travellers stayed for some time. Bessie's eldest brother married Archdeacon Cotton's daughter the following year, so that the visit was one of special interest.

The Bishop had now a house in London, 31 Queen Anne Street, and the family life was divided between London and Chichester. When she was twenty-one Bessie had the command of her own income. One of her first acts was to subscribe to the Philharmonic concerts. The daughter of an old friend of her parents, Mrs. Denison (now Lady Grimthorpe), lived in the same street, and also subscribed; she used to call for and take Bessie with her. The impression which Lady Grimthorpe received at that time was, first of all, "How merry she is:" and next, what an intense appreciation she had of beautiful music, and what a happy, trustful confidence in those about her. One night at the concert the gas suddenly went out, fears of an explosion were whispered about, and many persons left the room. Bessie put her hand in Lady Grimthorpe's and said: "I have no fear whatever, with you. Go or stay as you think best;" and they stayed.

She would return from these concerts so bright and beaming, and give such pleasure to her father by her animated accounts of them, that he learnt to a.s.sociate her enjoyment with a scarlet cloak she then wore. He said he would have her portrait taken, and in that cloak, for she never looked so well in anything else. Some time later this was done by Sir W.

Boxall, and the frontispiece to this volume represents a picture which gives as much of the spiritual beauty and delicacy of Bessie's youthful face as the painter's art can render.