Miss Eden's Letters Part 43

My health does not improve. They say the last attack a fortnight ago was gout in the stomach. I trust G.o.d will spare me a recurrence of such suffering, for I am grown very cowardly; but, at all events, every medical precaution has now been taken, and I am not anxious as to the result, though shamefully afraid of pain.

G.o.d bless you. Yours affectionately,

E. EDEN.

_Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._

[VILLETTE], BROADSTAIRS, 1851.

There is nothing I like so much as a letter, dearest Theresa, but I am so often unable to answer them that, of course, my correspondents are disheartened, and I cannot wonder at it. Just now a private letter is invaluable, for when I woke up after six days of agony, which cut me off even from a newspaper, I found that there had not only been various Ministries formed and destroyed, but that _The Times_ had become perfectly drivelling. Its baseness and inconsistency did not shock me, and we have been brought up to that; but it writes the sort of trash that a very rheumatic old lady who had been left out of Lord John's parties might indite. It really worries me, because I cannot make out who or what it is writing for or about, or what it wants. There is no use in commenting on your letters. I am very sorry for all that is past, because I like Lord John, and he seems to have played a poor part. This last abandonment of the Papal Bill[558] is to my mind the falsest step of all, and I think the most ruinous to his character and the country, and totally unlike him. I always keep myself up by setting down everything wrong that is _done_ to the Attorney-General,[559] and everything foolish that is _written_, to C. Greville. Quite unjust; but I have never forgiven the Attorney-General that Park history, and C. G.

tried to do as much mischief as he could in _The Times_ last year about foreign politics, and this year about the Pope.

Anyhow, it is an ugly state of things, and cannot last long. I heard from a person to whom Sir James Graham said it, that he would not serve _under_ Lord John, but that he would under Lord Clarendon; and I cannot imagine that Lord Clarendon will not be Prime Minister before three months are over.[560] I am afraid he is papally wrong, but I give that point up now. The Pope has beat us and taken us; and when once a thing is done there is no use in grumbling. England will be a Roman Catholic country; and I shall try and escape into Ireland (which will, of course, become Protestant and comfortable eventually), unless I fall into the hands of Pugin,[561] who has built a nice little church and convent, with an Inquisition home to match at Ramsgate. I suppose we shall be brought out to be burnt on the day of Sanctus Carolus,[562] for the Pope cannot do less than canonise Charles Greville.

I did not admire Lord Stanley's speech as many Whigs did; there was the old little-mindedness and grudging testimony to adversaries in it. I always think Lord Lansdowne comes out as a real, gentlemanlike, high-minded statesman on these occasions. However, I know nothing about it really, for I have not seen a human being this fortnight.

Eden Lodge had been let to what seemed an eligible tenant, a rich widow with one daughter, but three days before she was to have taken possession she said her friends had frightened her about the Exhibition.

I do not suppose anybody will take it this year, which is inconvenient to me, in a pecuniary point of view; but it cannot be helped. You do not mention the children--is Villiers grown up? married? Prime Minister or what? Your book looks imposing in the advertis.e.m.e.nts.

Love to Mrs. Villiers and to Lord Clarendon when you write. Your affectionate

E. E.

_Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._

EDEN LODGE, KENSINGTON GORE, _Sat.u.r.day, March 1856._

MY DEAREST THERESA, Such a fascinating bullfinch! Mr. Whittaker's a.s.sortment arrived two days ago, and he brought six here this morning in small wooden prisons; and the scene was most interesting. All of them clearing their throats and pretending that they had taken cold and did not know whether they _could_ sing; and all swelling into black and red b.a.l.l.s, and then all bursting at once into different little airs; and Whittaker, who partakes of the curious idiosyncrasy which I have traced in Von der Hutten and other bird dealers, that of looking like a bullfinch and acting as such, going bowing and nodding about to each cage, till I fancied that his coat and waistcoat were all _purfled_ out like bird's feathers; and I, lying on the sofa, insisting in a most stately manner that some of the birds did not bring the tune down to its proper keynote, though it was impossible I could tell, as they all sang at once. However, I chose one that sings to command (a great merit).

"'Tis good to be merry and wise," and now I have him alone, I am confident you will like him. If not, the man will change him. I shall be so pleased, dearest Theresa, if he gives you even a moment's pleasure, and I am certain from sad experience that in a settled deep grief,[563]

it is wise to have these little advent.i.tious cheerfulnesses put into the background. It is good for those who are with us, at all events. And there is something catching in the cheerfulness of animals, just as the sight of flowers is soothing.

You must find Harpton looking pretty for March, particularly if it is suffering under such a very favourable eruption of crocuses, etc., as my garden is. I never saw them in such clumps.

I have been fairly beat by Miss Yonge's new book, _The Daisy Chain_, which distresses me, as I generally delight in her stories; but if she means this Daisy Chain to be amusing, it is, unhappily, intensely tedious, and if she means it to be good, it strikes me that one of Eugene Sue's novels would do less harm to the cause of religion. The Colviles are very angry with me for not liking it; and, above all, for thinking Ethel, the heroine, the _most_ disagreeable, stormy, conceited girl I ever met with. Starting with the intention of building a church out of her shilling a week--which is the great harrowing interest of all Puseyite novels; finding fault with all her neighbours; keeping a school in a stuffy room that turns everybody sick, because she cannot bear money that was raised by a bazaar by some ladies she disliked; and always saying the rudest thing she can think of because it is _her way_.

I read on till I came to a point when she thought her father was going to shake her because she was ill-natured about her sister's marriage; and finding that he did not perform that operation, which he ought to have done every day of her life, I gave it up. The High Church party are all going raving mad!

That pretty Mrs. Palmer[564] has had herself taken to a hospital as a sort of penance in illness, and has left her most excellent husband and five little children to take care of themselves. She has, moreover, taken a vow of six hours' silence every day during Lent, but will write an answer on a slate. If I were her husband I should take advantage of that vow and give her my mind for six hours at a time. She may not answer again. Ever your affectionate

E. EDEN.

_Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._

EDEN LODGE, KENSINGTON GORE [1861].

MY DEAREST THERESA, Will you tell me what I am to think about the India Bill?[565] I believe I think with Roebuck, that it is claptrappy, and generally that it would make a mess of India, but I have not the least idea what it means, and will you tell me what effect it had?

I am still so much occupied in rearing up Sir George Lewis to be Leader of the House, that I have hardly time to write. May I ask you to make his holidays advantageous, by pointedly contradicting everything he says, or does not say, while you are at Harpton; allowing him to argue in defence of his opinions, but continue to contradict him in the pertest and most offensive manner. I am afraid, too, I must trouble you to allow him to find fault with everything you do--from ordering dinner, downwards; because, though I hope this India Bill will finish the Derbyites, still my Leader must be up to his Opposition duties. After the recess, the House will continue his education, and your domestic felicity will be more complete than ever for this little sacrifice to the public good. You are quite wrong, my dear, about Lord John. A charming individual in private life, but not fit to govern a country or lead a party. So please attend to the above directions. Your affect.

E. E.

_Miss Eden to her Niece, Lena Eden._

EDEN LODGE [_October or November 1858_].

MY DEAREST LENA, It is pitch dark to-day, so that I have not been able to attempt my newspaper. I am afraid you will have to go out as a daily governess when I die, for I am spending my whole fortune in coats. Lady Georgina Bathurst's[566] letter was very amusing, but it is clear that her friend Bennett[567] makes himself generally odious, and that poor Mrs. Bennett suffers as much from it as she did formerly. I am sick of the High Church clergy's cant about respect for their Diocesan, etc., when they always do everything they can that is rude and disrespectful to their Bishop; and it always surprises me that a sensible woman like Georgina can be taken in by them. But she always was in extremes. In her political days she did not think it possible that a Whig soul could be saved, and may think so still....

The seagull pigeon is sitting. I am so glad I am not married to a pigeon; they are such teasing, tyrannical husbands. Yours affectionately,

E. E.

_Miss Eden to Lady Theresa Lewis._

RICHMOND, _Tuesday evening_ [1862].

DEAREST THERESA, Sorry you did not come; hope for better luck Thursday.

I have had a _pa.s.sage at arms_ with old Bentley, who has dawdled over the "Auckland Correspondence"[568] till he says it is now too late for the publication this season, and it will not appear till October; but that this is the best time for a work of fiction, and he wanted mine instantly. I wrote him a coldly savage letter, conveying all sorts of reproaches in political terms, and saying that, as of course he could not undertake a second book till he had done with the first, and as I was in a hurry, I must accept the offer of some other publisher (I have had several offers). Whereupon he rushed down here early this morning and told Lena he was "a persecuted victim," that he would bring out the _Semi-Detached_[569] in a month, and that he must have it, etc. He offered only __250, and I really will not take less than __300. Lena told him so afterwards, and he said he dared to say that there would be no difficulty about terms if he could talk it over with you. So mind you stick to 300 and a very early publication. I really do want the money, for poor Richard Wellesley has been obliged to resign, and they are ordered to winter abroad for the winter and will have some difficulty in managing it, so I want to be able to help them.

Dear little Mary is a greater darling than ever. Ever your affectionate

E. EDEN.

_Miss Eden to Lady Charlotte Greville._

CHILD'S HILL, HAMPSTEAD, [_August_] _Sat.u.r.day, 1859_.

So like you, dearest, to think of sending that review, which I thought very flattering. Lena had already picked it up at a neighbour's house, and I am told it is a great help to a book to be reviewed by the _Globe_. A review in _The Times_, even unfavourable, is supposed by publishers to ensure a second edition, but _The Times_ does not stoop to single volume novels. "Semi" has had more success than I require, and considerably more than I expected.

It gave me real pleasure to think that I had amused you. That, and a kind note from Lord Lansdowne, who said that the book had been a great amus.e.m.e.nt to him in his convalescence, gave me intense gratification.

Altogether, people have been marvellously good-natured about it, and if ever I write another story, which is not very likely, I shall call it "The Good-natured World." I really do think that, though we all carp in a petty childish way at each other, that there is an immense amount of solid _bienveillance_ in constant circulation; only we do not think about the kindness we meet with, till we actually want it, and then we see the amount and the value of it.

I wrote my congratulations with very great ease to the Buccleughs. That marriage seems to give universal satisfaction, and Char was in such a fidget to have her son[570] married, that she would have put up with a very inferior article in the way of a daughter-in-law. I am more puzzled with my letters to Theresa Lewis. Lord Clarendon had cut him[571] on account of his writings, and Theresa Lewis had never asked him to Kent House, so you see there is rather a mess to be cleared up before congratulations come out in a clear brilliant stream.

However, Lord Clarendon has been extremely amiable about it, which he was sure to be, and Therese was so regularly and thoroughly in love that I think T. Lewis was quite right to make no objections on the ground of poverty. After twenty-one, young people may surely choose for themselves, whether they will be rich or poor.

Do you want a perfection of a little dog to _egayer_ you? Lady Ellesmere knows my little Manilla silk dog, a small bone run through a large skein of white floss silk, full of wit and affection. I feel certain it would be a happiness to you and no trouble, except that you would have to coax it fourteen hours out of the twenty-four, and then strike for thirteen hours.

Love to Lady E. Ever your affectionate

_E. Eden._

The Duke of Bedford was here yesterday. He is looking very thin but in good spirits, and happily satisfied that Lord John is the best Foreign Secretary we have ever had, and a _juste milieu_ between Lord Palmerston's extreme French, and Lord C.'s extreme Austrian views.