trouble and money, will not answer too well to the poor people I wish to
serve. Only think of their manager making them _pay_ for the use of the
theatre at a rate that will swallow up the best part of what I can bring
into it for them. Isn't it a shame?... This is an out-of-the-way part of
the world enough, as I think you will allow, when I tell you that _one_
policeman suffices for _three_ parishes, and that his authority is
oftenest required to reclaim wandering poultry. Moreover, the curate,
who does duty in both this and the adjoining parish for sixty pounds a
year, preaches against his patron, whose pew is immediately under the
pulpit, designating him by the general exemplary and illustrative title
of the "abandoned profligate." The latter thus vaguely indicated
individual is a middle-aged widower of perhaps not immaculate morals,
but who, as lord of the manor and chief landed proprietor in these
parts, is allowed to be charitable and kind enough,--which, however,
will not, I am afraid, save him--at least in the opinion of his
clergyman. The country people are remarkably ignorant, unenlightened,
_unpolitical_, unpoetical rustics, but remarkably well off, paying only
three pounds a year for excellent four-roomed cottages, having abundance
of cheap and good food, and various rights of common, and privileges
which help to make them comfortable. It is an astonishingly sleepy and
quiet sort of community and neighborhood, and this is a pretty place, on
the edge of a wild common, with fine clumps of fir-wood about it, and a
picturesquely _colored_ district of heath, gorse, broom, and pine
growth, extending just far enough round the grounds to make one believe
one was in a pretty country.
As I hear no more of the present French Revolution down here, I am
reading Lamartine's ("Les Girondins") account of their first one. It's
just like reading to-day's Paris newspaper.
Ever yours,
FANNY.
You will be glad to hear that, after encountering every possible let and
hindrance from their amiable manager, and being made by him to pay _ten
pounds_ for the use of the theatre, company, gas, etc, my poor young
fellow-actors, for whose sake I came down here, will have cleared a sum
that will be an immense help to poor folk living upon L2 a week. I was
delighted with having been able to serve them much better than I had
feared I might. People's comparative earnings make me reflect. I have
been grumbling not a little at my weekly earnings. Thackeray, for that
wonderful book, "Vanity Fair," gets L60 a month; the curate who preached
to us on Sunday and does duty in two parishes has L60 a year. Perpend!
Good-bye, my dear.
Believe me ever yours,
FANNY.
PORTSMOUTH, Wednesday.
DEAR T----,
What a marvellous era in the world's history is this we are living in!
Kings, princes, and potentates flying dismayed to the right and left,
and nation after nation rising up, demanding a freedom which God knows
how few of them seem capable of using.
The last month in Europe has been like the breathless reading of the
most exciting novel, and every day and hour almost teems with events
that surpass in suddenness and importance all that has gone before.
The Austrians will not give up Italy without a struggle, and I suppose
through that channel the floodgates will be thrown open that will deluge
all Europe with blood.
Is not the position of the Emperor of Russia awful in its
singularity--the solitary despot of the civilized world?
The great body of the Austrian empire is falling asunder, and all its
limbs standing up, separate national bodies. Hungary, Bohemia, Poland
will again have individual existence, and the King of Prussia will be
undoubtedly hereafter the head of a huge German Confederacy.
In the mean time, I am sure you will rejoice that Metternich was
mistaken, and that "it," as he was pleased to designate the existing
state of Europe, did not even, as he said it would, "last his time."
Our country is wonderful; I mean this, my blessed England receiving into
her bosom the exiled minister and dethroned King of France, and the
detested Crown Prince of Prussia, with the dispassionate hospitality of
a general house of refuge for ruined royalties.
The spirit and temper of this English people is noble in its
steadfastness: with much of national grievance to redress and burdens to
throw off, the long habit of comparative freedom, and the innately loyal
and conservative character of the nation, have produced a popular
feeling that at this time of universal disturbance is most striking in
its deliberate adherence to established right and good order. Alone of
all the thrones in Europe, that of our excellent queen and her admirable
consort stands unshaken; alone of all the political constitutions, that
of the country they govern is threatened with no fatal convulsion: in
the midst of the failing credit and disturbed financial interests of the
Continent, our funds have been gradually advancing in value, and our
public credit rises as the aspect of affairs becomes more and more
involved and threatening abroad.
Ireland is our weak point, and, as we have to _atone_ there for cruelty,
and injustice, and neglect, too long persisted in, that will be the
quarter from which we shall receive our share of the national judgments
which are being executed all over the world.
A short time ago I saw an admirable letter of Lord Clarendon's, who is
now Lord Lieutenant; but though he has hitherto conducted his most
difficult government with great ability, there is so much real evil in
the condition of the Irish that, combined with their folly, their
ignorance, and the wickedness of their instigators, I do not think it
possible that the summer will pass over without that wretched country
again becoming the theatre of anarchy and turbulent resistance to
authority.
My brother-in-law has returned from Rome, and my sister will follow him
as soon as the weather will admit of her crossing the Alps with her
babies. All his property is in the French funds, that seems an insecure
security nowadays....
In England we shall have an extended right of suffrage, a smaller army,
a cheaper government, reduced taxation, and some modification of the
land tenure,--change, but no revolution, and no fits, I think. This
people deserve freedom, for they alone, and you, descended from them,
have shown that they know what it means. Considerable changes we shall
have, but the wisdom and wealth of our middle classes is a feature in
our social existence without European parallel; it is the salvation of
the country. I know you hate crossed writing, so good-bye. I am afraid
these fantastic French fools will bring Republicanism into contempt.
France seems to be threatened with national bankruptcy, _et
puis--alors--vous verrez_.
Always affectionately yours,
F. A. B.
COLCHESTER.
I came from Yarmouth to-day, having lodged there in a strange old inn
that belonged, in our Republican days, to Judge Bradshaw; in one room of
which, they say, Cromwell signed Charles I.'s death-warrant; but this, I
think, is a mistake. He is said, however to have lived much in the
house, which, at that time, belonged to the Bradshaw family. The house
is of a much earlier date, though, than that, and was once, undoubtedly,
a royal residence; for in a fine old oak room, the carved panelling of
which was as black as ebony, the ceiling was all wrought with the roses
and the _fleur-de-lys_. The kitchen and bar-room were both made out of
an old banqueting-hall, immensely lofty, and with a very fine carved
ceiling, and stone-mullioned windows, of capital style and preservation.
The staircase was one of those precious, broad, easy-graded ascents, up
which you could almost take a carriage, with a fine heavy oak baluster;
and on the upper floor three good-sized rooms made out of one, with
another elaborately carved ceiling. It was really a most curious and
picturesque place, and is now the "Star Inn" at Yarmouth, and will
doubtless become gradually changed and modernized and pulled to pieces,
till both its remaining fine old characteristics and its traditions are
lost--as, in good measure, they already are, for, as I said before, the
house bears traces of having been a royal residence long before
Cromwell's time....
The older English country-houses are full of quaint and picturesque
relics of former times; but I think there is a cruel indifference
sometimes to their preservation; _e.g._, think of the Norwich people
allowing the house of Sir Thomas Browne to be dismantled of all its
wood-carving, which was sent up to London and sold in morsels, I
suppose, to the Jews in Wardour Street.
Yours affectionately,
FANNY.
PORTSMOUTH, Friday, March 31st, 1848.
I did not walk on my arrival in Portsmouth, dear Hal, but dined. The day
was very beautiful all along, and I enjoyed as much of it as my
assiduous study of the _Times_ newspaper would allow.
I am glad you saw Mitchell, because now you can conceive what a funny
colloquy that was of mine with him, about the price of the seats at my
readings. [Mr. Mitchell, court bookseller, queen's publisher, box-letter
to the nobility, general undertaker of pleasures and amusements for the
fashionable great world of London, was my manager and paymaster
throughout all my public reading career in England.] In making the
preliminary arrangements for them he had, in my opinion, put the prices
too high, demanding ten shillings for them. When I said they were not
worth two, and certainly ought not to be charged more than five, he
replied, with much feeling for the British aristocracy, whom he
idolized, and whom he thought fit on this occasion to designate,
collectively, under the title of my friend Lord Lansdowne, that he
couldn't think of insulting him by making him pay only five shillings to
hear me read. I wonder why poor dear Lord Lansdowne can't be asked five
shillings? I would have charged him, and all the smaller and greater
nobility of the realm, half a crown, and been rather ashamed of the
pennyworth they got for it. But a thing is worth what it will fetch, and
no one knows that better than Mr. Mitchell. I should think any sensible
being would prefer paying half a crown to the honor and glory of
disbursing twice that sum for a two-hours' reading--even by me, even of
Shakespeare. I wish, while you were in personal connection with my
manager Mitchell, you had remonstrated with him about those ridiculous
dandified advertisements. You might have expressed my dislike of such
fopperies, and perhaps saved me a few shillings in pink and blue and
yellow note-paper; though it really almost seems a pity to interfere
with the elegancies of poor Mitchell, who is nothing if not elegant.
However, I wish he would not be so at my expense, who have no particle
of that exquisite quality in my whole composition, and find the
grovelling one of avarice growing daily upon me.
I have already had a letter from Henry Greville this morning, telling me
the result of _two_ interviews _he_ has had with Mitchell about the
readings; also--which interests me far more than my own interests--of
the utter routing of the Austrians in the Milanese--hurrah!--also of his
determination to buy the house in Eaton Place.... Adelaide must come
home by sea, for it is impossible that she should travel either through
France or Germany without incurring the risk of much annoyance, if
nothing worse. The S---- in the dragoon regiment in Dublin is E----'s
younger brother....
Ever yours,
FANNY.
BANNISTERS, Tuesday, 14th, 1848.
Liston's [the eminent surgeon] death shocked me very much, and I felt
very certain that he was himself aware of his own condition. I
observed, during my intercourse with him latterly, a listless melancholy
in his manner, a circumstance that puzzled me a good deal in contrast
with his powerful frame, and vigorous appearance, and blunt, offhand
manner. I think I understand now, and can compassionate certain
expressions in his last note to me, which, when I received it, made a
painful and unfavorable impression upon me. I suppose he did not believe
in a future state of existence, and have no doubt that, latterly, he had
a distinct anticipation of his own impending annihilation. His great
strength and magnificent physical structure, of course, suggested no
such apprehension to persons who knew nothing of his malady [Liston died
of aneurism in the throat], but when I saw him last he told me he was
much more ill than I was; that he had been spitting up a quantity of
blood, and was "all wrong." ...
I cannot take your thanks, my dear Hal, about "Wilhelm Meister." ... I
never offer anything to any one; neither would I willingly, when asked
for it, withhold anything from any one. I believe the only difference
that I really make between my "_friends_" and my "_fellow-creatures_" is
one of pure sentiment: I love the former, and am completely indifferent
to the latter, but I would _do_ as much for the latter as for the
former.
My marks in "Wilhelm Meister" will not, as you expect, "explain
themselves," for the passages that I admire for their artistic literary
beauty, their keen worldly wisdom, their profound insight, and noble
truth, as well as those which charm me only by their brilliant
execution, and those which command my whole, my entire feeling of
sympathy, are all alike indicated by the one straight line down the side
of the text. I think, however, you will distinguish what I agree with
from what I only admire. It is a wonderful book, and its most striking
characteristic to me is its absolute moral, dispassionate impartiality.
Outward loveliness of the material universe, inward ugliness of human
nature in its various distortions; the wisdom and the foolishness of
man's aims, and the modes of pursuing them; the passions of the senses,
the affections of the heart, the aspirations of the soul; the fine
metaphysical experiences of the transcendental religionists; the
semi-sensual, outward piety of the half-idolatrous Roman Catholic; the
great and the little, the shallow and the deep of humanity in this its
stage of action and development,--are delineated with the most perfect
apparent indifference of sentiment, combined with the most perfect
accuracy of observation. He pleads no cause of man or thing, and the
absence of all indication of human sympathy is very painful to me in his
book. It is only because God is represented as a Being of perfect love
that we can endure the idea of Him as also a Being of perfect knowledge.
Goethe, as I believe I have told you, always reminds me of Ariel, a
creature whose nature--_super_human through power and knowledge of
various kinds--is _under_-human in other respects (love and the capacity
of sympathy), and was therefore subject to the nobler moral nature of
Prospero. Activity seems to be the only principle which Goethe
advocates, activity and earnestness--especially in self-culture,--and in
this last quality, which he sublimely advocates, I find the only
_comfortable_ element in his wonderful writings. _He_ is _in_human, not
superhuman.
God bless you. Good-bye.
Ever yours,
FANNY.
KING STREET, St. James, Friday, 17th.
MY DEAREST HAL,
I cannot be making arrangements for going over to Dublin so far ahead as
the 22d of May, for by that time Dublin may have been swallowed up by
Young Ireland.
Your theory of my reading elegant extracts from Shakespeare is very
pretty, but absolutely nothing to the purpose for my purpose.... All
that is _merely_ especially beautiful is sedulously cut out in my
reading version, in order to preserve the skeleton of the story; because
the audiences that I shall address are not familiar with the plays, and
what they want is as much as possible of the excitement of a dramatic
entertainment to be obtained without entering the doors of a theatre....
You forget to what a number of people Lambs and Bullocks give their
names; Hog, which, by the bye, is spelt Hogge, has by no means the
pre-eminence in that honor.
I saw Lady Lansdowne the other day, who said the ministers were
extremely anxious about Ireland, and that the demonstrations with regard
to St. Patrick's day kept them in a state of great alarm. Lord
Lansdowne is tolerably well just now, but has been quite ill; and Lord
John Russell is so ill and worn out that they say he will be obliged to
resign: in which case I suppose Lord Lansdowne would be premier. The
position of people at the head of governments in this year of grace is
certainly not enviable. D'Israeli said, last night, he couldn't see why
Dublin should not be burnt to the ground; that he could understand the
use of London, or even of Paris, but that the _use_ of Dublin was a
mystery. I suggested its being the spring and source and fountain-head
of Guinness's stout, but I don't think he considered even that a
sufficient _raison d'etre_ for your troublesome capital, or porter an
equivalent for the ten righteous men who might save a city.
Thackeray tells a comical story of having received a letter from his
father-in-law in Paris, urging him by all means to send over his
daughter there, and indeed go over himself, for that the frightful riots
in England, especially those in London, Trafalgar Square, Kennington,
etc., must of course make it a most undesirable residence; and that they
would find Paris a much safer and quieter one: which reminds me of the
equally earnest entreaties of my dear American friends that I should
hasten to remove my poor pennies from the perilous guardianship of the
Bank of England and convert them with all despatch to the safe-keeping
of American securities!
I have been going out a good deal during the last three weeks, and mean
to continue to do so while I am in London, partly because, as I am about
to go away, I wish to see as much as I can of its pleasant and
remarkable society, and partly, too, from a motive of _policy_, though I
hate it almost as much as Sir Andrew Aguecheek did. I mean to read in
London before I leave it, and a great many of my fine lady and gentlemen
acquaintances will come and hear me, provided I don't give them time to
forget my existence, but keep them well in mind of it by duly presenting
myself amongst them. "Out of sight, out of mind," is necessarily the
motto of all societies, and considerations of interest more than
pleasure often induce our artists and literary men to produce themselves
in the world lest they should be forgotten by it. Nor, indeed, is this
merely the calculation of those who expect any profit from society; the
very pleasure-hunters themselves find that they must not get thrown
out, or withdraw for a moment, or disappear below the surface for an
instant, for if they do the mad tide goes over them, and they are
neither asked for, nor looked for, called for, nor thought of, "Qui
quitte sa place la perd," and there is nothing so easy as to be
forgotten....
Besides all this, now that my departure from England approaches, I feel
as if I had enjoyed and profited too little by the intercourse of all
the clever people I live among, and whose conversation you know I take
considerable pleasure in. I begin now, in listening, as I did last
night, to D'Israeli and Milnes and Carlyle, and E----'s artist friend,
Mr. Swinton, to remember that these are bright lights in one of the
brightest intellectual centres in Europe, and that I am within their
sphere but for a time....
I called at the Milmans' yesterday, and found Mrs. Austin there, whom I
listened to, almost without drawing breath, for an hour. She has just
returned from Paris, where she lived with all the leading political
people of the day, and she says she feels as if she had been looking at
a battle-field strewn with her acquaintances. Her account of all that is
going on is most interesting, knowing as she does all the principal
actors and sufferers in these events, personally and intimately.
To-day the report is that the Bank of France has suspended payment. The
ruin of the Rothschilds is not true, though they are great losers by
these catastrophes. The Provisional Government has very wisely and
wittily devised, as a means of raising money, to lay a tax of six
hundred francs a year upon everybody who _keeps more than one servant_!
Can folly go beyond that?
Henry Greville showed me yesterday a letter he had received from Paris
from Count Pahlen, saying that, though the guillotine was not yet
erected, the reign of terror had virtually commenced; for that the
pusillanimous dread that kept the whole nation in awe of a handful of
pickpockets could be described as nothing else.
I am much concerned about E----'s fortune, the whole of which is, I
believe, lodged in French funds. All property there must be in terrible
jeopardy, I fear.
Lady G---- F---- went to Claremont two days ago, and says that Louis
Philippe's deportment is that of a servant out of place. She did not
add, "Pas de bonne maison." ...
Ever yours,
FANNY.
[On the famous 10th of April, the day of the great Chartist meeting,
I drove from King Street to Westminster Bridge in the morning,
before the monster demonstration took place; and though the shops
were shut and the streets deserted, everything was perfectly quiet
and orderly, and nothing that _appeared_ indicated the political
disturbance with which the city was threatened--the dread of which
induced people, as far as the Regent's Park from the Houses of
Parliament, to pack up their valuables and plate, etc., and prepare
for instant flight from London. In the evening, my friends would
hardly believe my peaceful progress down Whitehall, and I heard two
striking incidents, among the day's smaller occurrences: that Prince
Louis Napoleon had enrolled himself among the special constables for
the preservation of peace and order; and that M. Guizot, standing
where men of every grade, from dandies to draymen, were flocking to
accept the same service of public preservation, kept exclaiming,
with tears in his eyes, "Oh, le brave peuple! le brave peuple!"--a
contrast certainly to his Parisian barricaders.
In the summer of 1848 I returned to America, where my great good
fortune in the success of my public readings soon enabled me to
realize my long-cherished hope of purchasing a small cottage and a
few acres of land in the beautiful and beloved neighborhood of
Lenox.]
THE END.
INDEX
ADELAIDE, Queen Dowager, 335, 340, 341
Albert, Prince, 321, 324, 341
Alexis, his mesmeric powers, 228
Alfieri, 21
Allen, Dr., 62
Alvanley, Lord, 74
America, character of Americans, 4;
no _poor_, 6;
servants in, 8;
society in, 26;
climate, 33;
travel between and England, 39;
scenery, 42;
expression of faces in, 51;
medical treatment in, 82;
overwork of Americans, 91;
medicinal waters in, 96;
bathing in, 97;
railroads in, 104;
the Dismal Swamp, 108;
the "place where a place was intended to be," 109;
American decorum, 110;
corduroy, 112;
North Carolina natives, 116;
tobacco-chewing, 116;
a North Carolina "Colonel," 117;
slavery on Butler's Island, 136;
its influence on the whites, 137;
hotels, 151;
4th of July in Philadelphia, 152;
equality in, 152;
health in, 167;
"carrying on" financially, 176;
Irish servants in, 184, 195;
presidential election, 204;
war with England, 206;
the credit system in, 288;
divorces in, 292;
slavery in, 307;
a story of slavery, 370;
society, 403;
public spirit, 405;
an American on America, 415;
contrasted with Italy, 466;
spirit of conformity, 550
Amistad, 185;
history of, 186
Anne the nurse, on the Rhine, 256;
at Bowood, 273;
objects to be waited on, 275, 279, 296, 297, 321;
her views of presentation, 325
Appleton, Miss, 18, 101, 228
Ardgillan Castle, 13
Arkwrights, 251, 493, 495
Arnold, 420, 424;
his influence, 425;
his opinions, 430;
life of, 432, 434, 444;
character of his pupils, 446, 448;
his "letters," 452, 453, 619, 645
Ashburton, Lady, 219, 281
Ashburton, Lord, 360, 372, 380
Ashley, Lord, 444
Austen, Charles, 281
Austin, Lucy, 578
Austin, Mrs., 3, 578, 666
BABBAGE, 273
Bach, 262
Balzac, 255;
"Recherche de l'Absolu," 451
Banian, Mrs., 271
Barker, Laura, 646
Beaumont, Mr., 183
Beaumont, Mrs. Wentworth, carrying a contested election, 183
Becker, Dr., magnetized, 231
Bedford, Duchess of, 303, 304, 339
Bedford, Duke of, 303, 360, 514
Beecher, Lady, 77
Beethoven, 265, 623
Bendermann, 269
Benedict, 373
Bentley, 337
Berkeley, Craven, 312
Berkeley, Earl of, his encounter with a highwayman, 316
Berkeley, Frederick, 312
Berkeley, Grantley, 312
Berkeley, Henry, 310, 312, 313
Berkeley, Lady, 308;
her story, 310, 349, 369
Berkeley, Lady Mary, 313, 369
Berkeley, Lord, 311
Berkeley, Morton, 313;
the contents of his pockets, 314
Bernhardt, Sarah, 246