Francis was married on the 19th to Rosa Florentina Eroles; Sneyd, Fanny,
and Lestock were present. The bride was dressed in a plain white muslin,
with a mantilla lace veil of her own work on her head, without any hat,
after the fashion of her own country, with a small wreath of silver
flowers in her dark hair. Her sister was dressed English fashion, in a
bonnet. Both Sneyd and Fanny say that nothing could appear more
gentlemanlike, gentle, amiable, and happy than the bridegroom.
_To_ MRS. R. BUTLER.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN, _April 20, 1832_.
Can you conceive yourself to be an old lamp at the point of extinction,
and dreading the smell you would make at going out, and the execrations
which in your dying flickerings you might hear? And then you can
conceive the sudden starting up again of the flame, when fresh oil is
poured into the lamp. And can you conceive what that poor lamp would
feel returning to light and life? So felt I when I had read your letter
on reading what I sent to you of _Helen_. You have given me new life and
spirit to go on with her. I would have gone on from principle, and the
desire to do what my father advised--to finish whatever I began; but now
I feel all the difference between working for a dead or a live horse.
My auriculas are superb, and my peony tree has eighteen full-swelled
buds: it will be in glory by the time Sophy and Mag arrive.
_To_ HER SISTER HARRIET--MRS. R. BUTLER.
EDGEWORTHSTOWN. _Aug. 1, 1832_.
It is impossible to tell you how much I miss you. Never, except at my
Aunt Ruxton's, did I ever pass my time away from home so entirely to my
own enjoyment. Not a cloud obscured the cheerful sky.
We are reading _Eugene Aram_; and almost all I have heard I think
affected as to language, and not natural as to character. I am sure the
real story and trial are much more interesting.
_Aug. 21_.
Perhaps you think I am at Lady Hartland's at this moment, poor
ignorants, as you are! You must know that I was so unwell on Friday, the
morning of the day we were to have gone there, that my poor mother was
obliged to send James in the rain (poor James!) to put off till Monday;
so Lord and Lady Hartland were very sorry and very glad, and sent us
divine peaches.
Sir James Calendar Campbell's _Memoirs_ are ill-written--all
higgledy-piggledy, facts and anecdotes, some without heads, and some
without tails; great cry and little wool, still, some of the wool is
good; and curious facts thrown out, of which he does not know the value,
and other things he values that have no value in nature.
_To_ MISS RUXTON.
PAKENHAM HALL, _Sept. 19, 1832_.
We came here yesterday to meet Caroline Hamilton--dear Caroline
Hamilton, and her sensible, agreeable husband. She is always the same,
and the sight of her affectionate, open, lively countenance does one's
heart good. Lord Longford quite well, and Lord Longford for ever: the
children beautiful.