Letters of Edward FitzGerald to Fanny Kemble (1871-1883) Part 13

_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 n.o.body--unless you, who do hear too much about it.

Last night I made my Reader begin d.i.c.kens' 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 a.s.sisting 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.