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MISS EDEN’S LETTERS
[Illustration]
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA · MADRAS
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
DALLAS · SAN FRANCISCO
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
[Illustration: _Pamela, Lady Campbell
from a painting by Sir William Napier_]
MISS EDEN’S LETTERS
EDITED BY
HER GREAT-NIECE
VIOLET DICKINSON
MACMILLAN AND CO., LIMITED
ST. MARTIN’S STREET, LONDON
1919
COPYRIGHT
PREFACE
It is difficult to express one’s gratitude. Mine I owe to my brother, R.
E. Dickinson, to Mrs. Ernest Farquhar (granddaughter of Lady Theresa
Lewis), to Sir Guy Campbell, Mrs. W. Rendel, and Sir Arthur Stanley, for
the loan of letters in this book. I also thank Mr. Claud Paget and Mr.
W. Barclay Squire for the help they have given me.
Doubtless, through want of experience, I have been guilty of leaving out
much that might have been left in, and leaving in much that might not be
of interest.
The pleasure of knowing Lady Campbell through her letters has been
doubled by the kindness I have met with from her daughters, Mrs. Ellis
and Mrs. Percy Wyndham.
Lord Cromer before his death in 1917 had been interested in reading
these letters. It is due solely to his encouragement that they are now
published, though lacking the Introduction he was good enough to offer
to write.
A friend of mine read some of the proofs. I found on three occasions
they induced sound sleep within a few minutes, which leads me to hope
perhaps other readers may find them equally soothing.
V. D.
_July 1919._
INTRODUCTION
In the autumn of 1913 a Life of Lord Clarendon[1] was published, and
among many of his letters were a few written to him by an old friend,
Miss Eden. It was thought that a further selection of Emily Eden’s
letters might be of interest.
She was a keen politician of the Whig order, clever, amusing, critical,
an excellent friend and a devoted sister. Her father, William Eden,[2]
was the third son of Sir Robert Eden, Bart., of West Auckland, Durham,
and he married in 1776 Eleanor Elliot, a sister of the 1st Earl of
Minto.[3] Two years later, Eden went as a Commissioner to America. He
was Chief Secretary in Ireland under Lord Carlisle;
Minister-Plenipotentiary in 1785 to the Court of Versailles; in 1788
Ambassador to Spain, and in the following year Ambassador to Holland; he
was given a peerage in 1789 (Baron Auckland). Mrs. Eden, from her own
account, was evidently a first-rate traveller; she took great interest
in her husband’s work, and she had a child, often amidst much
discomfort, in every country to which they were sent.
Emily was born in 1797. Her parents were settled at Eden Farm,
Beckenham, Kent, and her father now devoted his time to politics. Her
mother took great trouble to rear and educate her family of fourteen,
leaving a detailed account in her Diary of their upbringing, diseases
and marriages. Evidently her sense of humour and cheerfulness helped her
through much misery.
“Out of fourteen I suckled thirteen. Eleven of the children had smallpox
during their wanderings, also cow-pox, whooping-cough, measles and
scarlet fever.”
In 1786, Eden, who was then in Paris, wrote to his friend Lord
Sheffield: “Mrs. Eden is just returned from passing nearly a week in the
Circle and Society of the whole Court of Versailles without feeling a
moment’s discomposure. It is impossible to describe to you all the
glorious attentions with which she is honoured by the Queen of France,
not only in presents, but in what she values more, in admiration of her
children. She and the little Frenchman are both well, and we have now as
many nations in our Nursery as were assembled at the Tower of Babel.”
Another friend also wrote:
“Every report says Mrs. Eden’s Nursery is the admiration of the Court
and the Town, that they make parties to see it, that she had made
domestic life quite fashionable”; and there are constant allusions to
the Brattery, the Light Infantry, and the little Parisians.
By her contemporaries Lady Auckland was known later in life as Haughty
Nell, and the Judicious Hooker. Her eldest girl, Eleanor, was Pitt’s
only love, but for various reasons, after a long correspondence between
Pitt and Lord Auckland, the affair came to an end, and Eleanor in 1799
married Lord Hobart, who became Secretary of State for War and the
Colonies in 1801, and succeeded his father as Earl of Buckinghamshire in
1804.
Lord Auckland died suddenly at Eden Farm in 1814. Lady Auckland only
survived him four years. Six of their daughters had married, and the
remaining two, Emily and Fanny, lived with their elder brother George,
and went with him to India when he became Governor-General in 1835.
From an account given of herself in a letter to one of her friends,
Emily had profited by the education she received from her mother. She
had read Boswell’s _Life of Johnson_, the _Memoires du Cardinal de
Retz_, Shakespeare, and knew a great part of the Bible almost by heart
before she was eleven.
She took a strong interest in politics, but she was never happier than
when living quietly at Greenwich with her brother, sketching, reading
and gardening, and in 1835 the prospect of a five months’ sea journey to
India, and being obliged to leave her sisters, friends, and interests,
depressed and worried her.
On her return to England in 1842 she published her _Portraits of the
People and Princes of India_. She also wrote _Up the Country; Letters
from India_, edited by her niece; and two novels, _The Semi-Detached
House_ and _The Semi-Attached Couple_.
Three large volumes of her Water-colour Sketches were sold at Christie’s
in 1907 and are now in the Victoria Memorial Hall, Calcutta.
The year 1849 proved to be one of the greatest sorrow to Miss Eden. Her
brother, Lord Auckland, died quite suddenly in January, and three
months later she lost her sister Fanny. For the next twenty years she
divided her time between Eden Lodge, Kensington Gore, and a little
cottage at Broadstairs, writing her books, and seeing many of her
friends. Though she had become quite an invalid, her house still
remained a centre of political interest. One of her nieces, Lena Eden,
lived with her.
Among her most intimate friends were Mr. George Villiers (Lord
Clarendon) and his sister Theresa, who married Mr. Lister of Armitage
Park in 1830. He died twelve years later, and in 1844 she married George
Cornewall Lewis, M.P.[4]
Unfortunately, none of Lady Theresa’s letters to Miss Eden can be found.
She had a most attractive and gifted nature; her family and friends were
devoted to her. Kent House, Knightsbridge, in which she lived nearly all
her life, was within a short walk of Eden Lodge.
Another great friend was Pamela, daughter of Lord and Lady Edward
FitzGerald. Her father, the chief figure in the Irish Rebellion of
‘98,[5] had married her mother, the beautiful and fascinating Pamela,
six years previously. He died in Newgate Prison, Dublin, leaving three
children, Edward, Pamela, and Lucy.
After his death a bill of attainder was passed against his estate, and
his wife had to leave Ireland. Edward was left to the care of his
grandmother the Duchess of Leinster; Lucy went to Lady Sophia
FitzGerald (Aunt Soph), at Thames Ditton. Pamela lived abroad with Lady
Edward till 1811, when she returned to her grandmother; three years
later the Duchess died; Pamela was then sent to Thames Ditton to be
brought up with her sister; she married Sir Guy Campbell in 1820. Her
correspondence with Emily Eden covered a period of thirty years. Her
letters describe her life with all its Irish and English fun and misery,
her adventures and difficulties, the bringing into the world her eleven
children, and her efforts to educate them on a dwindling income.
Sir Guy Campbell and Lord Auckland both died in 1849. Pamela lived to be
seventy-three, and Emily to be seventy-two; they died in 1869. Emily’s
letters began in 1814, and were written to her elder sister, Eleanor
Lady Buckinghamshire, who lived at Eastcombe, near Greenwich, within
driving distance of Eden Farm, the Edens’ home till their mother’s death
in 1818.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I PAGE
1814-1819 1
CHAPTER II
1819-1820 30
CHAPTER III
1820-1825 51
CHAPTER IV
1825-1827 89
CHAPTER V
1827-1828 125
CHAPTER VI
1828-1829 156
CHAPTER VII
1829-1830 176
CHAPTER VIII
1830-1831 193
CHAPTER IX
1831-1835 211
CHAPTER X
1835-1837 250
CHAPTER XI
1837-1840 279
CHAPTER XII
1840-1842 319
CHAPTER XIII
1842-1849 359
CHAPTER XIV
1849-1863 380
INDEX 405
ILLUSTRATIONS
PAMELA FITZGERALD (LADY CAMPBELL) _Frontispiece_
From a painting by Sir William Napier.
FACE PAGE
MRS. LISTER (LADY THERESA LEWIS) 203
From a painting by G. S. Newton.
ELEANOR, COUNTESS OF BUCKINGHAMSHIRE 331
EMILY EDEN 397
From a drawing by George Richmond.
CHAPTER I
1814-1819
_Hon. Emily Eden (aged 17) to her Sister the Countess of Buckinghamshire
(aged 37)._[6]
EDEN FARM, BECKENHAM, KENT,
_Monday, September 26, 1814._
We have been very much surprised by a letter from Miss Milbanke[7] to
Mary[8] informing her she was engaged to marry Lord Byron, a “person of
whose character she has had the best opportunity of judging, and who, as
he merits her greatest esteem, possesses her strongest attachment.” That
last sentence certainly sounds very well, but, that she does not seem to
be acting with her usual good sense is Mama’s opinion, as by all
accounts Lord Byron is not likely to make any woman very happy. It is
particularly unlucky, at present, as Mary’s letters to her about “Lara,”
the “Corsair,” etc., have not expressed much admiration for their
author....
_September 30._
Mr. Van.[9] came here to dinner to-day and goes away to-morrow. I wish
you would tell me what to say to him just now, for he looks as if he
wanted some one to talk to him. Mary and George[10] are so busy at
chess, and Mama is so interested in the _Anarchie de Pologne_,[11] and I
am so tormented by a real, large, green, crawling caterpillar which has
found its way to the table and keeps hunting me round it, I have not
presence of mind enough left to make out one topic.
Mary has just received Sarah’s[12] letter. You perhaps may not know that
she [Sarah] is going to change her character to that of a good-natured
shilly-shally fellow. She is also thoroughly to understand politics, and
is studying Junius, and for want of better society is to get into great
habits of intimacy with me. If we were not to change our characters
sometimes, there would be rather a sameness in our lives.
George is going to Dropmore and Shottesbrook, but will return home to
receive the Colviles, stay here a week longer, and then go for six weeks
to Melbury.
He will be a great loss to us, and I cannot but look forward with dread
to the long evenings, which used to be so happy, and which will seem so
lonely without _Him_,[13] who enlivened them so much.
Good-bye, my dearest Sister. Do not trouble yourself to answer my
letters, as a letter to any part of this family does as well for the
rest.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire._
EDEN FARM,
_October 25_ [1814].
MY DEAR SISTER, Charlotte[14] has had a good night by the account we
received this morning. The baby is wonderfully well.
Lord Francis goes to Newmarket on Sunday, and I am to go to Earl’s Court
for a week, and George[15] and Willy Osborne come here. It sounds as if
we were going to play Puss in the Corner on a grand scale, but I shall
be glad to get back to my corner again....
George writes me word that one story about Lady Caroline Lamb[16] is,
that the separation had been agreed upon, and the articles ready; that
Lady Melbourne set out one morning from London to try and arrange
matters, and on her arrival she found the happy couple at breakfast, and
Lady Caroline drawling out--“William, some more muffin?”--and everything
made up.
Mary has grown so fat she can scarcely waddle about, and flatters
herself she is looking very well. I remain ever your aff. sister,
EMILY EDEN.
(_Quite private_)
I must just mention that the tucker Ingram made is considered as the
most beautiful, elegant, decent, well-behaved, unassuming good sort of
tucker in His Majesty’s dominion, and is quite the rage. I am in a
fever, which should be called the _decent_ fever, till I can get four
dozen made just exactly like it.
Mary has been very busy preparing for her journey, and desires her love
to you, and is very much obliged to you for the use of your necklace,
bracelet, etc., which she will take great care of.
She has not heard from Miss Milbanke lately, but we hear that Lord Byron
is going to be a good boy, and will never be naughty no more, and he is
really and truly writing a new version of the Psalms!
_Lord Auckland to Miss Eden._
MELBURY,[17]
_November 12_ [1814].
MY DEAR EMILY, I must write one line though it is past midnight, and
that because nobody writes to poor Emily. Well, I am glad you have got a
little gaiety at last.
As for us here, we are as merry as grigs, and as active as flies, and as
chatty as the maids. We eat and drink, and work and walk, and shoot and
hunt, and talk and laugh, all day long--and I expect my pretty master,
you would like the eating and drinking the best of all. Such luncheons!
a roast turkey, and hash and potatoes, and apple pudding, and what not,
and I stand by and abuse them all for eating, and eat with the best of
them.
We have been trying the new experiment of burning clay for manure, and
have not above half succeeded--and we have just found an old book, 80
years old, which gives a full and detailed account of what all the
wiseacres are all making an outcry about as a new discovery, and as the
practice has not been adopted, we are beginning to suspect that its
merits are a little exaggerated.
We have a house brimful.
Give my love to all, Vansittart and all, and so good-night, my old boy,
for I must go to bed. Your affec. brother,
AD.
_Miss Eden to her Sister, Lady Buckinghamshire._
EDEN FARM,
_December 1814_.
MY DEAREST SISTER, Mary’s first letter is arrived, so I must begin
copying and extracting, and abridging, as if I had never done anything
else all my life.
But I must begin by observing that we all parted most heroically on
Wednesday morning, not the least in the O’Neil style, but we were all as
cool as cucumbers, and as hard-hearted as rocks. (What beautiful
similes!) Mary looked very smart, her coat was covered with grey
vandykes, which does not sound pretty, but looked very well, and her hat
of course matched it exactly. She says they did not arrive at
Shottesbrook[18] till late, as they went round and round the place
several times before the postboy could find the entrance....
We heard from Morton[19] the other day, a long account of his gaieties.
He has been showing Oxford to the Feildings, and the Meerveldts[20]
(what a difficult word to spell), and then was invited to go to
Middleton with them, where he met the Worcesters, Cowpers, Eustons, and
the Duke of Devonshire. We are rather in dread of his return, and to
find him grown very fine, which will be an unlucky turn to take....
Mrs. Percival’s[21] marriage shocked us all, as we had not heard of it
before, but Mrs. Moore sent in word of it, and of the gentleman’s name
afterwards. Ever your affec. sister,
EMILY EDEN.
_Miss Eden to her Sister, Lady Buckinghamshire._
EDEN FARM,
_December 23, 1814_.
MY DEAREST SISTER, We have had two such long letters from Mary (at
Bowood). You must be contented with some extracts. She says: “We have
almost as few events here as at Eden Farm; in the morning we walk four
or five miles, and in the evening everybody reads a little except Lady
E. Feilding,[22] who walks about disturbing us all. She brought down a
great book full of verses and epigrams, that she is collecting all over
the world and gathered chiefly at Middleton; she let few of them be
read, and screamed and pulled away the book every three minutes in case
we should see more than we ought.
There were some pretty things of Lady Cowper’s[23] composing, one
addressed to her sleeping baby, and another on an Infant that is one of
the most beautiful things possible. It seems to be the fashion
collecting these things, for Captain Feilding says it was quite
ridiculous to see Lady Jersey[24] and Lady Cowper, and Lady E. Feilding
and two or three others coming down of an evening at Middleton with
their great books in satchells like so many schoolboys, and showing each
other their ‘little treasures,’ and one saying, ‘May I copy this?’--‘No;
not unless you will let me copy that.’--‘Very well, but you won’t turn
over the page?’--‘No.’--‘Then you must not go further than that line.’
And then the books are all locked up again, for they each have keys, and
Lady Elizabeth says everybody wore the key of her manuscript book at her
side, in case the others should get it by fair means or foul.
Lady Elizabeth’s maid is also making a collection. Lady Lansdowne[25]
looked prettier than ever last night, and is the kindest, most
pleasing-mannered person I ever saw. She has got some receipts for
dyeing muslins, sattins and silks any colours, and has been all this
morning up to the elbows in soap-suds, starch and blue, and then on her
knees for an hour ironing on the floor,--the work of the morning. I saw
her little girl[26] for a moment, and it seems to be a pretty little
thing; the boy[27] is exactly like Lord Lansdowne, but is never to be
seen, and I only met the little Feildings[28] once on the stairs since I
came here. We are much too learned to think of children.”
So much for Mary’s first letter. George says, “Mary behaves like an
angel. She walks with Lansdowne and talks learnedly--I do not know what
about. The only words I could hear were, _And be hanged to you_, and
_Slip-gibbit_, and _Betty Martin_.”
Mary says in her second letter: “We had a tremendous fit of Crambo again
last night from eight to eleven without stopping. Lord Lansdowne gives
his whole heart and mind to any little game, or whatever he is about,
and it is really quite amusing to see him fretting and arguing, and
reasoning and labouring, at this Crambo, as if it was a matter of the
greatest importance. It is certainly rather fretting, but it is as good
a way of passing a long evening as another. Lady Lansdowne takes a great
deal of charge of me, and is a person I really cannot find one fault
in....”
I had advanced so far in copying, and was just thinking how nicely and
quickly I had done it, when the post arrived, and brought a letter from
Mary of nine quarto pages thickly written, and so amusing. But you must
not see it to-day--you little thing--this is quite enough for once. Your
affectionate sister,
EMILY EDEN.
_Lord Auckland to his Sister, Miss Eden._
MELBURY,
_December 31, 1814_.
MY DEAR EMILY, I am living in a state of great fright about the event of
my message by the last post, and if the key is not found, you must not
be much astonished at seeing me arrive either with or without Mary on
Tuesday; but I do not like to settle anything about this fussy,
provoking scrapey piece of business till I hear from you and from Dyer
to-morrow.
We have been doing nothing particular to-day except going in a large
party after some woodcocks.
I am as pleased as Punch with the American peace.[29] We shall get rid
of the property tax, and the 3 per cents will be up in the skies. We
have nothing yet to succeed Whishaw.[30] Sir George Paul[31] is near
seventy, but he is a fine old beau, and has one of the prettiest places
in England, so that if the Dowager Lady Ilchester[32] does not snap him
up, something may yet be done.
To console us for not having you, we have an Emily here who has
something of the fooley in her, but she unluckily is a dullfooley.
I have in leisure hours been looking over a good many old letters which
are here, written by the Fox’s and Pelhams and Sir Charles Hanbury
Williams,[33] etc., etc., in the reign of George II., some of which are
very entertaining. I send you a copy of verses written by Sir C. H.
Williams to one of Ilchester’s aunts, Lady Susan O’Brien.[34]
Sweeter than the sweetest Manna,
Lovely, lively, dear Susannah,
You’re the girl that I must muse on,
Pretty little smiling Susan.
Oh! if verses could amuse ye,
Fairest, gentlest, laughing Susey,
I’ll write to you, but ne’er rebuke ye,
Handsome and good-natured Sukey.
Every rhyme should flatter you
Trifling, dimpling, tender Sue.
I’ve sung my song and so adieu! adieu!
Susannah, Susan, Susey, Sukey, Sue!
Mary is quite reviving to-night, and is making a deuce of a noise, and
be hanged to her. My love to my Mother and all. Yours very
affectionately,
AUCKLAND.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire._
_Monday, January 1815._
MY DEAR SISTER, I have not a guess how far Mary’s journal[35] has been
continued to you. She says, “The great amusement here seems to be
eating, which goes on from morning till night. There is an immense
breakfast for people to go in and out to, a large luncheon which stands
two hours on the table, a very long dinner, and a regular supper, which
altogether takes up half the day. To-day, by way of amusement, and
keeping up an old custom, we have all been baking, that is, spoiling an
enormous quantity of good things in the housekeeper’s room, making some
uneatable gingerbread and cakes, and ourselves very dirty. There are a
quantity of children here, and all very nice ones seemingly. Lady
Theresa Strangways[36] would be really a dear little thing, if Lady G.
Murray[37] would not talk and teaze one so about her stomach and teeth.
...Lady G. Murray is in greater beauty than ever, and happier than
anybody I ever saw. She has two sons here.”
_Tuesday_.
...I was so cross and stupid with a pain in my ear which I have had this
week, and in such a fury with Willy Osborne[38] who made a point of
dropping his shuttlecock on my paper every minute, that I was obliged to
leave off writing in order to fight with him, and when that battle was
ended, he insisted on playing at Blind Man’s Buff....
Mary seems quite delighted with her visit to Melbury, and even nearly
reconciled to quitting Bowood, which she was very sorry to do. Sir
George Paul,[39] nearly eighty years old, is very much struck with her,
she says, and when she goes to the pianoforte puts on his spectacles,
and sits opposite her, gazing on her beautiful countenance with great
satisfaction.
He drank two glasses of wine with her at dinner, and all the other
ladies insisted on his drinking one with them, that they might at least
have half as much done for them as was done for Mary.
We are all in doubt whether to like Sir G. Paul best or Mr. Whishaw, a
lawyer, about ten years younger, but with only one leg. But the poor
man, George says, was terribly smitten, and if they had staid but two
days longer at Bowood, it would have come to a happy conclusion.
I myself should prefer somebody rather older and steadier.
Lady Ilchester wrote to Mamma, to know whether she was to let this
flirtation go on, as it does at present....
George writes in good spirits, and seems delighted with his tour and
with Melbury, which is the pleasantest place he knows. He says Mary is
in very good spirits and makes a deuce of a noise and that she is a
great favourite wherever she goes, and he believes _deservedly_ so.
They neither of them seem to have any idea that they must ever come home
again; but if ever they do I will let you know. Yours affectionately,
EMILY EDEN.
_Miss Eden to her Brother, Lord Auckland_.
EDEN FARM,
_Monday, January_ 1815.
POOR DEAR LITTLE GEORGY, I am quite sorry it has been in such a fuss
about the key, and I am afraid my last letter will not have set it’s
little heart at ease, but on Sunday morning Morton[40] and I hunted for
an hour, and at last found the key tied with a _yellow_ ribbon, and not
a blue one, and when we had found it and made Bob ride to Greenwich[41]
as fast as he could, he found Mr. Dyer laughing by himself at the fuss
you and Morton were in. He said the chest was broken open at a quarter
past twelve and is now broken up for life. Which of your brothers-in-law
do you like best? because I cannot make up my mind quite to either,
though I believe I like lame Whishaw better than the venerable Paul.
Mama is really fidgetty about them; and if you write again, will you let
us know whether Mary is really as pleasant as she pretends to be and
whether she did not make you underline the words “_deservedly liked_” in
your last letter? Because it looked very suspicious.... Talking of
Fooleys, by the bye, Mr. and Miss Vansittart come here this afternoon,
and I am grown duller than ever. Thank you for your verses, which we
liked very much. Ever your affectionate sister,
EMILY EDEN.
_Lord Auckland to Miss Eden_.
DROPMORE,[42]
_January_ 13, 1815.
MY DEAR EMILY, Here we are once more within 30 miles of home, came here
late yesterday, everybody at dinner--Mary in such a fright you never
saw--such a silence you never heard--room so hot you never felt--dinner
so cold you never tasted--dogs so tiresome you never smelt. So we must
go to Shottesbrook _bon gré, mal gré_. Hang labels round your necks when
we arrive on Wednesday or Thursday with your names on them (like the
decanters) for do what we will, Mary and I cannot recollect your faces.
Are you the one with the long nose?
Lady Riversdale’s maid has had an offer of marriage, and she has refused
it, because she “had not that attachment that ought to subside between
man and wife.”
Mind that, girls, and don’t marry rashly. Yours, and a day no more
foolish than yourself,
AUCKLAND.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
EDEN FARM,
_March_ 9 [1815].
MY DEAREST SISTER, As the Queen has been so uncivil and even spiteful to
me and my sattin gown, as to put off the drawing-room, our three letters
per day upon dress may now cease, and this is merely a letter of thanks
for all the trouble you have taken with Wynne, Pontet, lace, notes,
hoops, drapery, sattin, carriers, feathers, jewels, etc., and which have
unluckily, by this strange and unaccountable spitefulness of H.M., all
proved useless.
Poor Beckenham is gone mad about the corn laws,[43] and have revenged
themselves on poor innocent harmless out-of-the-way George, by drawing
him on the walls hanging as comfortably as possible, and Mr. Cator on
another gibbet opposite to him. Mr. Colvile[44] is also hanging
somewhere else.... Every house and wall is covered with mottoes, and “No
corn laws” in every direction. Ever your affectionate,
E. EDEN.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
EDEN FARM,
_June_ 24 [1815].
MY DEAREST SISTER, We had not expected the satisfaction of two letters
from you to-day.... A letter that condescends to speak of two
housemaids, without talking of battles and Bonaparte, is a very
delightful novelty, as I am quite tired of rejoicing and lamenting over
this news[45] which, upon the whole, strikes me as very melancholy,
though I know that is a very wrong feeling.
There have yet been no accounts of poor Lady Delancey![46] She must have
had a horrible shock at first, as Sir William, believing himself to be
dying, refused at first to be removed from the field of battle, which
gave rise to the report of his death. Poor Lady I. Hay quitted London at
six yesterday morning to inform her father,[47] who was in the country,
of Lord Hay’s death. He was not more than nineteen, and was a friend of
Bob’s at Eton.
The George Elliots[48] came here to dinner yesterday, with their
youngest child, who is a very fine child, and as a baby, I thought its
name might be interesting to you, though it was not very different from
other children, except that it had, on its cap a lilac satin
cockade,[49] which is naturally a very pretty thing, though a baby sewed
to it does not add to its beauty.
That is, however, a mere matter of taste.
Mrs. G. Elliot we all like, and she has full as much sense as the rest
of the world, and would be as pleasant, if her manner was not rather
hurried and rough, evidently from shyness and a fear of being thought
dull.
Except these, we have not seen anybody, not even a neighbour, nor do I
believe there are such things as neighbours left in the world, and it is
much too hot to go and look for them if they are yet alive.
Mrs. Green, poor woman, seems to think you a little dull, but I always
told you how it would be when you lost me, and I am glad to see Mrs.
Green has so much penetration. Ever your affectionate sister,
E. EDEN.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
_July_ 3, 1815.
We heard yesterday from the Selkirks[50] a certain account of poor Sir
W. Delancey’s death,[51] and we heard it also from several other good
authorities. The Selkirks have been in town every day in hopes of
hearing either of or from Lady Delancey, but without success. Her
situation is most dreadful, as he died at Waterloo, so she is not near
any acquaintance she might have made at Brussels. She is but eighteen,
and literally just out of the nursery. She has with her only a new
maid, whom Lady Selkirk procured for her but three weeks ago. It appears
very shocking that none of her relations should have gone to her on
hearing of his wound, as she will now have every detail to manage for
herself, and her return to Penge, which she quitted in such violent
spirits not a month ago, will be dreadful. The Selkirks expect her every
hour.
I have just been interrupted by the arrival of the Lansdowne children,
who are come here for the afternoon to make Lady Lansdowne’s excuse for
not coming to take leave before she goes out of town. The little
girl[52] is the prettiest little thing I ever saw--the smallest
child--looking like a fairy _for all the world_.
_July 6, 1815_.
We were all very sorry to hear of poor Comte Meerveldt’s[53] death, for
_her_ distress must be very great. Little Rodolphe will now be a great
consolation to her. Lady Selkirk has had one very short note from poor
Lady Delancey.[54] It was almost too composed to be comfortable to her
friends. She said her husband had died at Waterloo, and was buried the
morning she wrote, at Brussels, and she wished Lady Selkirk would have
his picture done immediately by Heaphy,[55] as that was the only thing
she could now live for. She made no complaint, except saying that she
had had but one very happy week at Brussels, which was over, and that
she was sure Lady Selkirk, at least, would feel for such a very wretched
creature. She is expected at Penge to-morrow. There is an odd mixture of
joy and sorrow in that house, as Lady K. Douglas[56] is married there
to-day, which is rather astonishing, considering the state her family is
in....
_Miss Eden to Lord Auckland_.
EDEN FARM,
_August 11 [1815]_.
MY DEAREST GEORGE, I put a most excellent joke in these two first lines,
but was obliged to efface them from my fear of the police, but it is
inserted in sympathetic Ink, and if you will hold it for 3/4 of an hour
by a very hot fire, rubbing it violently the whole time without
intermission, with the back of your hat and one hand, I daresay you will
find it.
We are much as you left us. I cannot buy any sheep yet, for the price
has risen in the market prodigiously, and we must wait a little, but
Walsh is to go to Smithfield this week to see how things are. In your
directions you left out a very important word, whether the ferrule
should be fixed in the bottom, or the seat of the Tilbury. I say the
former, and Mama the latter. One makes the umbrella too low, the other
too high, but by a little arrangement of mine, too long to explain, I
have made it the right height for myself, bonnet, feathers, and all, and
it will altogether be very comfortable.
There is to be a meeting of all the Sunday Schools in the district next
week at Bromley, and a collection, and a collation. We mean to eat up
the collation, and give all our old clipped sixpences to the collection,
which we think is a plan you would approve if you were here.
Madden[57] has given us so much to do, we have not a minute’s spare
time. We are duller than a hundred posts about Astronomy, and if you can
find any planets for us in Paris, we shall be obliged to you, as we
cannot find one on the globe, and Madden only laughs at us. There!
Good-bye, my dearest George. Take care of your little self. Your
affectionate
EMILY EDEN.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
EDEN FARM,
_Thursday, August_ 31, 1815.
MY DEAREST SISTER, Did Mama write to you yesterday? I wish I knew, but
she is unluckily upstairs, and indeed I must say is hardly ever in the
way when I want her.
I had meant to have answered your letter yesterday, but Mary, Miss
Vansittart, and I went a-pleasuring, so that I had not time.
We went in the morning to Greenwich, where Mr. Van.[58] met us in the
Admiralty barge, and took us to the steamboat.
We found there Lord and Lady Liverpool,[59] my dear Letitia Taylor, Lady
Georgina, and Lady Emily Bathurst, Lord Bathurst, Lord Harrowby, Sir G.
Hope, Sir George Warrender, Mr. Lushington, etc. Lady Liverpool still
retains the notion that I am Miss Eden in the country, as well as in
town, and introduced Mary as Miss E. Eden, and me as Miss Eden to all
the company, and Mr. Van. insisted on calling Miss Taylor--Miss Rickets,
so that the most curious effect steam has had yet was making a large
company answer to wrong names.
The Invention itself, I believe, was supposed to succeed perfectly. We
had a very pleasant row, or steaming, or whatever else it may be called,
beyond Woolwich, and back to Greenwich again in three hours, during
which time we also contrived to eat a large breakfast, and a larger
dinner and dessert.
Lord Liverpool had some very improper purring scenes, and Lady Liverpool
was very good-natured....
It must be an amusing sight to see Sarah[60] scolding the post-boy for
not driving fast enough, or calling to the hostler for “a pair of horses
to St. Albans immediately,” or adding up the innkeeper’s account, and
giving him something over for the scoundrel that drove.
That is the style she must now adopt. Ever your affect. sister,
E. EDEN.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
_August 19_ [1817].
MY DEAREST SISTER, The reason I am in such a state of ignorance about
the letter is, that Mama and Louisa[61] went to meet them in _their_ way
to London; that we were behind them in the poney-cart; and George behind
us in the gig. We all fell in with each other and the letters in the
middle of Penge Common, where we each took what belonged to us. I met
immediately with the dreadful intelligence that you were going actually
to take May Place, and on our recommendation, which dreadful
intelligence I communicated to George, who immediately fainted away, and
was driven off by his servant. I fainted away, and was driven off by
Mary, and Mama and Louisa went on in hysterics to London. I really am
quite in a fright about it, and cannot think what beauties I ever saw in
it. The house is nothing but a pile of old bricks, the rooms cold, damp,
dirty, inconvenient cells, the view cheerless and bleak, the offices
large and decaying, the garden unproductive and expensive, the
neighbours impertinent and intrusive, the gardener impudent, the
housemaids idle, the landlord exacting, and the tenant in a terrible
scrape indeed--and so is the tenant’s sister too, as far as I can make
out.... The only thing I know for certain is that I am to send our
bricklayer there early to-morrow to look at the house, and to meet
George, who goes there at break of day; and if I can bribe him, as he is
a very clever person, to pull the whole thing down, I will. It is past
letter-time, and I have not time to read over what nonsense I have
written. Lady Byron[62] and her child come here the 27th. Most
affectionately yours,
E. E.
There is a rheumatic headache attached to the place, and let with it.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
TONBRIDGE,
_October_ 10 [1817].
MY DEAREST SISTER, The “Eden Farmots” have kept me in such profound
ignorance with respect to you that I had some doubts whether you were
not settled at Charlton,[63] or whether you were not tired of the name
of house, and had fitted up a nice hollow tree for yourself with some
little hollow trees round it for your sisters and friends. It looks
rather pretty and attentive though, in me, that I should answer your
questions two days before you ask them.
This weather is particularly provoking in a house where there are but
few books, but the last week we have contrived to be out nearly ten
hours every day, beginning at seven in the morning. Getting up at that
time and swimming through the fog to drink the coldest of all cold water
is the least pleasant part of the day, but otherwise I have lost all
hatred to exercise, from the circumstance of never being fatigued with
any quantity of it.
The Vyners are so close to us that we are always together.... I wish
somebody would just have the kindness to marry Miss Vyner. She would be
such an excellent chaperon-general to all young ladies.
We had on Sunday morning the finest sermon I ever heard from Mr.
Benson--so fine that we went in the dark and in the rain to hear
another. He began by preaching at the Opposition, which gave me a fit of
the sullens; then he went on to smugglers, then to brandy merchants;
and, lastly, laid the sins of the whole set and all the other
misfortunes of the country upon “ladies who wore fancy dresses” and
encouraged smuggling by example and money.
It is a very odd fashion now, I think, to abuse women for everything,
but, however, there were so few gentlemen at Church that we all bore it
tolerably well. People’s French bonnets sat tottering on their heads,
and if it had not been for some sense of decency and a want of pockets,
many a French shawl was preparing to step itself quietly out of the way.
Your most affect. sister,
E. E.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
_November_ 16 [1817].
MY DEAREST SISTER, You seemed by your last letter to be so overcome by
the communications of your friends, that I burnt a long composition of
mine. Indeed, nobody but an excellent sister could be induced to write
on such a gloomy, dispiriting afternoon, but I have put the table close
by the fire, with one leg (belonging to the table, not to me) in the
fender, to prevent it from slipping away, the arm-chair close behind the
table, and me supported by them both, holding a pen in one hand and the
poker in the other, and now, have at you.
Yesterday was not a flourishing day by any means, but this is to be
different, as the Osbornes[64] and their five noisy, unmanageable,
provoking, tiresome and dear children are coming, so we have all
collected whatever health and strength we possess to answer the demands
of the day.
I called on Lady Grantham[65] last week. The Baby is a remarkably pretty
child, immensely fat and very nice-looking for its age, but still I
could not come up quite to her raptures on the subject, and I thought it
still looked red like other babies, and I never should of my own accord
have thought of coaxing it so much as she expected. Ever, my dearest
Sister, most affect. yours,
E. EDEN.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire_.
NEWBY HALL,[66]
_Sunday Ev. September_ 13, 1818.
MY DEAREST SISTER, Your account of Mary agrees very much with her own. I
do not know if you have heard from her since she has settled to pay a
little visit at Frognal, but, if so, you must have thought with me that
Lord Sydney[67] will be a very pleasant brother-in-law for us. Such a
great addition, in every sense of the word, to our society, and when the
Miss Townshends have been turned out of doors, upon any slight pretence,
it will really be a very nice establishment.
I am going on here just as was expected, very unhappy at first for about
three days, without any particular place in the room, or any particular
rule about being in the library, or my own room, or Lady Grantham’s, and
then, you know, my trunk and all my worldly possessions were missing
and lost, which was a cruel blow, at my first setting out, but at last
my dear trunk reappeared unexpectedly, and from that time I got
comfortabler and comfortabler, till I could get no further.
Miss Wynn[68] I like very much, probably because I expected to dislike
her. The rest of the family are perfectly inoffensive, with nothing
particularly agreeable or disagreeable in them, except indeed I have the
pleasure of beating Mr. Wynn at chess every evening, till the tears
almost course one another down his innocent cheeks, but I go on beating
him for all that.
Lady Grantham is much better than she was during the journey; we go out
every day in the pony-cart together, and call on the farmers and
cottagers. I do not understand one word in ten the people say, and
should be glad to take a Yorkshire master if I could find one. I hope,
for your sake, Gog Magog[69] is not as green as this place is, else you
will be more angry than ever with the dusty trees and brown grass of
Eastcombe. The grass was quite dazzling when I first came here, and the
green is a bad colour for the eyes, after the nice quiet brown we have
been accustomed to, but green peas agree remarkably well with me, and
sometimes I give a little passing thought to you, when I am packing up a
great forkfull of them, and again when the children bring me in immense
nosegays of mignonette, sweet peas, jessamine, which are to be put out
at night because they smell so very sweet.
Lady Grantham’s garden is beautiful, and full of every sort of flower,
but then it is generally locked. The house is excessively comfortable,
with a stove in every passage, and a fire in every room, servants’ and
all, an excellent library, and a very pretty statue gallery, heaps of
amusing books, and an arm-chair for every limb. I foresee a great
probability of my being very happy here, as my love of Lady Grantham
does not diminish by any means, and he and I are great friends, and he
likes to be played to for hours together. Your most affec.
E. EDEN.
_Miss Eden to her Brother, Lord Auckland._
NEWBY,
_Monday_ [1818].
MY DEAREST GEORGE, Having in our former letters nearly settled all our
business matters, I may venture this time to indulge you with a few
lighter topics.... This house is what Bob would call _chuck full_, but I
do not think you know any of the company except the Markhams[70] and
Mrs. Graham. I think all the Markhams pleasant in their way. Anne is
rather an odd fellow, but very amusing, and Frederica is very pleasant.
Cecilia desires me to give you her kind remembrance. As for your friend
Mr. Graham,[71] though I would not wish to be severe, yet I cannot think
a man who wears a light sort of mulberry-coloured “don’t mentions,” from
a wish to look _waspish_, can be any great shakes. The rest of his
character may be very good perhaps, but I can hardly think so under
these circumstances.
Your Bess has been making sad work of it indeed, and I wish she had not
been promised to Sister, for the Granthams are enquiring everywhere for
a dog of that description, and I think Bess would find this place
pleasanter than Eastcombe. Your most affectionate
E. E.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire._
NEWBY HALL [1818].
MY DEAREST SISTER, Your pride must be getting up again, I should
imagine, and I must give it a little epistolary pat on the back (what a
remarkably odd clever expression) to keep it all smooth.
My illness was remarkably opportune, inasmuch as it began at
Studley,[72] and which was so uncommonly dull, that the impossibility of
dining down was an immense advantage that I had over the rest of
society. We were nineteen at dinner every day. We were all immensely
formal in the evening.
The house is but a bad one in the old-fashioned way, and my room was
peculiarly liable to murder and that sort of accident, a large dark
green bed with black feathers on the top, stuck in a deep alcove, and on
one side of it an enormous dark closet, quite full of banditti I fancy,
and all the rest of the room actually swarming with ghosts I know, only
I was much too sleepy to lay awake and look at them.
Mrs. Lawrence has an unhappy turn for music without any very remarkable
genius, and we played 150 pages of the dryest Duetts in the Dussek and
Pleyel style without even changing our time, or rising into a forte, or
sinking into a piano, and minding every Repeat and Da Capo in the book.
On Wednesday Lord Grantham and Mr. Graham went on some Yeomanry business
to Leeds, on Thursday we came home to my great joy. Adieu, my dearest
sister; this has been written in a confusion of tongues, and I cannot
make it any longer by any means. Ever your most affec.
E. EDEN.
_P.S._--I have got a beautiful black cloth gown for two guineas, so fine
you never saw the like.
_Emily Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire._
NEWBY HALL,
_November_ [1818].
MY DEAREST SISTER, We are now quite alone for the first time since I
came--that is, the Wynns are here still, but they are part of being
alone, and we have never before been so few, and I must say that it is
uncommonly pleasant after so much company. The mere comfort of being
able to go about the house with _rough_ hair, or a _tumbled_ frill, and
in an old black gown, is not to be despised, and there is some pleasure
in taking up a book in the evening and yawning over it, and then saying
anything that comes uppermost, without thinking. We are very busy,
dressing little dolls for Lord Grantham’s Theatre, which is one of the
most ingenious pieces of mechanism I ever saw, and one of the prettiest
things altogether. There is to be a grand representation to-night, and
we have been rehearsing all the last week. It takes nine people to
manage the scenery, figures, and music, and we all of us lose our
tempers at it regularly every morning. I act the orchestra, and whilst I
am playing away to the best of my power the music belonging to any
particular scene, Anne[73] and Lady Grantham, who manage the figures,
get into some hobble, and the music is finished before the action to
which it belongs is begun, so that Harlequin and Columbine have to dance
out without any time to assist them. I believe nothing in the world
could ruffle Lord Grantham’s temper; but these theatrical difficulties
go nearer to it than anything else, and while he is explaining to Lady
Grantham that the figures will move if she takes pains, and to me that
the music is quite long enough if I will but play slower, it may be
rather provoking that Freddy[74] should let down the wrong trap-door,
Anne set her sleeves on fire in one of the lamps, Mary[75] turn the
cascade the wrong way, so that the water runs up instead of down; Thomas
the footman should let down a light blue sky to a dark moonlight scene,
and Shaw should forget the back scene altogether, so that his coat and
buttons and white waistcoat are figuring away in the distance of the
Fire King’s Palace. However, patience and scolding have overcome these
little difficulties, and our last rehearsal was perfect.
Lady Melville[76] and her children were here for five days last week. I
do not know exactly what I thought of her. She is too clever not to be
rather pleasant, and too argumentative not to be very tiresome, and
altogether I do not think I liked her. But her visit took place very
soon after I had heard of poor Sir S. Romilly,[77] and I was too much
shocked and too unhappy really to like anybody, particularly a person
who insisted upon discussing the whole thing constantly, and in a
_political_ way. I think I have never been more shocked by anything that
was not a private calamity--I mean, that did not concern one’s family or
one’s self--than I was by this, and poor Captain Feilding[78] who was
here, and who was a private friend of his, was so completely overcome
that I was very sorry for him too. Altogether it is a horrible history,
and only shows how very little we can know what is good for man in this
life, when we were all saying some months ago that this would be the
proudest year of Sir S. Romilly’s life. Your most affectionate
E. E.
_Lord Auckland to Miss Eden._
BRUTON STREET,
_Monday, November 1818_.
MY DEAR EMILY, I have this moment seen an agent of Mrs. Wildman, a rich
Kentish widow, and she has agreed to take Eden Farm on my own terms,
which gives us a prospect of being a little more settled and
comfortable.
She is to have it for seven years and pay £600 a year. And now I must
look out for a house in town, which you will find pretty near ready for
you when you arrive. I am in a great bustle and hurry, for we are all
alive with this election, though with the melancholy impression of poor
Romilly’s death it is difficult to rouse people. Hobhouse[79] has
behaved so ill that it is right to try to beat him, but I fear that
Lamb[80] is too late. He will certainly be low on the poll for the first
week, but it is possible that afterwards he may recover. In the
meantime, people are very busy, and none of our friends are sanguine.
Your affectionate brother,
AD.
_Lord Auckland to Miss Eden._
[_November_] 1818.
MY DEAR EMILY, Lamb carried his election to-day by 604, and made a sort
of a speech saying that now he was their member, and they were his
constituents, and that they would soon learn to be friends. He was a
little hooted, but not much more than usual; but all our foolish friends
appeared to cheer him with cockades in their hats, and all was uproar
and riot and confusion and pelting and brickbats and mud, and it is
lucky none of them were very seriously hurt. They all arrived covered
with dirt to the west end of the town, and the mob at their heels, for
they were too gallant not to stop to be occasionally pelted.
I never saw such a scene. Your friend Graham[81] looked as if he had
just come out from the pillory; Sefton, Morton, and twenty others in the
same plight.
Report says that one servant is nearly killed; I hope it is not true.
Ferguson had a blow on his head, and Mr. Charlton another more serious
one; but I hear of nothing worse. It makes but an ugly triumph for our
great _victory_. What a glorious debate was yesterday’s!
You will live at No. 30 Lower Grosvenor Street, the only house I can
get, small but convenient, and I think we shall make it do well enough.
Ever affectionately yours,
AD.
_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghamshire._
NEWBY HALL [1818].
MY DEAREST SISTER, ...Mr. Ellis left this place yesterday, so I could
not give him your message. I think he enjoyed the latter part of his
visit here very much, as there was a very pleasant set of gentlemen, and
Mr. Douglas, who is more amusing than ever. We had besides them, two Mr.
Lascelles’s,[82] one “a cunning hunter” and the other very gentlemanlike
and pleasant; Mr. Duncombe, a _pretty_ little London Dandy, rather
clever in his way; Captain Cust,[83] a soldierly sort of person, and a
kind of _Lusus Naturae_ (is that sense do you think?), because he is
pleasant and well-looking though he is a Cust, and Mr. Petre, very rich
and very stupid, so that we had a very proper mixture of character....
We are all hunting mad in these parts, and I am afraid that when I come
to Eastcombe I shall be a great expense to you with my hunters and
grooms. I have already made great progress in the language of the art.
I have heard a new name for the Miss Custs, in case you are tired of the
Dusty Camels; by uniting their names of Brownlow and Cust, they become
Brown Locusts, which is a very expressive title I think. I remain, ever
yr. very affec. sister,
E. EDEN.