With reference to the political allusions in the following it will be
remembered that this was the date of Mr. Gladstone's dissolution,
followed by his defeat at the polls notwithstanding his declared
intention of abolishing the income-tax.
_[Menton], February 1st, 1874._
I am so sorry to hear of poor Mr. M.'s death. He was really so amiable
and kind that no one could help liking him, and carrying away a
pleasant recollection of his simple, happy ways. I hope you will
communicate to all the family how much I feel with them.
Madame Zassetsky is Nelitchka's mamma. They have both husbands, and they
are in Russia, and the ladies are both here for their health. They make
it very pleasant for me here. To-day we all went a drive to the Cap
Martin, and the Cap was adorable in the splendid sunshine.
I read J. H. A. Macdonald's speech with interest; his sentiments are
quite good, I think. I would support him against M'Laren at once. What
has disgusted me most as yet about this election is the detestable
proposal to do away with the income tax. Is there no shame about the
easy classes? Will those who have nine hundred and ninety-nine
thousandths of the advantage of our society, never consent to pay a
single tax unless it is to be paid also by those who have to bear the
burthen and heat of the day, with almost none of the reward? And the
selfishness here is detestable, because it is so deliberate. A man may
not feel poverty very keenly and may live a quiet self-pleasing life in
pure thoughtlessness; but it is quite another matter when he knows
thoroughly what the issues are, and yet wails pitiably because he is
asked to pay a little more, even if it does fall hardly sometimes, than
those who get almost none of the benefit. It is like the healthy child
crying because they do not give him a goody, as they have given to his
sick brother to take away the taste of the dose. I have not expressed
myself clearly; but for all that, you ought to understand, I think.
_Friday, February 6th._--The wine has arrived, and a dozen of it has
been transferred to me; it is much better than Follete's stuff. We had a
masquerade last night at the Villa Marina; Nellie in a little red satin
cap, in a red satin suit of boy's clothes, with a funny little black
tail that stuck out behind her, and wagged as she danced about the room,
and gave her a look of Puss in Boots; Pella as a contadina; Monsieur
Robinet as an old woman, and Mademoiselle as an old lady with blue
spectacles.
Yesterday we had a visit from one of whom I had often heard from Mrs.
Sellar--Andrew Lang. He is good-looking, delicate, Oxfordish, etc.
My cloak is the most admirable of all garments. For warmth, unequalled;
for a sort of pensive, Roman stateliness, sometimes warming into
Romantic guitarism, it is simply without concurrent; it starts alone. If
you could see me in my cloak, it would impress you. I am hugely better,
I think: I stood the cold these last few days without trouble, instead
of taking to bed, as I did at Monte Carlo. I hope you are going to send
the Scotch music.
I am stupid at letter-writing again; I don't know why. I hope it may not
be permanent; in the meantime, you must take what you can get and be
hopeful. The Russian ladies are as kind and nice as ever.--Ever your
affectionate son,