LXXXIV.
Woodbridge, Christmas Day, [1880.]
My dear Lady:
You are at Leamington for this day, I expect: but, as I am not sure of your address there, I direct to Queen Anne as usual. This very morning I had a letter from my dear George Crabbe, telling me that he has met your friend Mr. H. Aïdé at Lord Walsingham’s, the Lord of G. C.’s parish: and that Mr. Aïdé had asked him (G. C.) for his copy of my Crabbe. I should have been very glad to give him one had he, or you, mentioned to me that he had any wish for the book: I am only somewhat disappointed that so few do care to ask for it.
I am here all alone for my Christmas: which is not quite my own fault. A Nephew, and a young London clerk, were to have come, but prevented; even my little Reader is gone to London for his Holyday, and left me with Eyes more out of Kelter [202]
than usual to entertain myself with. ‘These are my troubles, Mr. Wesley,’ as a rich man complained to him when his Servant put too many Coals on the fire. [203a] On Friday, Aldis Wright comes for two days, on his road to his old home Beccles: and I shall leave him to himself with Books and a Cigar most part of the Day, and make him read Shakespeare of a night. He is now editing Henry V. for what they call the Clarendon Press. He still knows nothing of Mr. Furness, who, he thinks, must be home in America long ago.
Spedding writes me that Carlyle is now so feeble as to be carried up and down stairs. But very ‘quiet,’ which is considered a bad sign; but, as Spedding says, surely much better than the other alternative, into which one of Carlyle’s temperament might so probably have fallen. Nay, were it not better for all of us? Mr. Froude is most constantly with him.
If this Letter is forwarded you, I know that it will not be long before I hear from you. And you know that I wish to hear that all is well with you, and that I am always yours
E. F.G.
How is Mr. Sartoris? And I see a Book of hers advertised. [203b]
LXXXV.
Woodbridge: Jan. 17, [1881.]
Dear Mrs. Kemble,
The Moon has passed her Full: but my Eyes have become so troubled since Christmas that I have not written before. All Christmas I was alone: Aldis Wright came to me on New Year’s Day, and read to me, among many other things, ‘Winter’s Tale’ which we could not take much delight in. No Play more undoubtedly, nor altogether, Shakespeare’s, but seeming to me written off for some ‘occasion’ theatrical, and then, I suppose that Mrs. Siddons made much of the Statue Scene.
I cannot write much, and I fancy that you will not care to read much, if you are indeed about to leave Queen Anne. That is a very vexatious business. You will probably be less inclined to write an answer to my letter, than to read it: but answer it you will: and you need trouble yourself to say no more than how you are, and where, and when, you are going, if indeed you leave where you are. And do not cross your letter, pray: and believe me always your sincere old friend
E. F.G.
LXXXVI.
[Feb., 1881.]
My dear Lady:
I expected to send you a piece of Print as well as a Letter this Full Moon. [205] But the Print is not come from the Printer’s: and perhaps that is as well: for now you can thank me for it beforehand when you reply (as I know you will) to this Letter—and no more needs to be said. For I do [not] need your Advice as to Publication in this case; no such Design is in my head: on the contrary, not even a Friend will know of it except yourself, Mr. Norton, and Aldis Wright: the latter of whom would not be of the party but that he happened to be here when I was too purblind to correct the few Proofs, and very kindly did so for me. As for Mr. Norton (America), he it was for whom it was printed at all—at his wish, he knowing the MS. had been lying by me unfinisht for years. It is a Version of the two Œdipus Plays of Sophocles united as two Parts of one Drama. I should not send it to you but that I feel sure that, if you are in fair health and spirits, you will be considerably interested in it, and probably give me more credit for my share in it than I deserve. As I make sure of this you see there will be no need to say anything more about it. The Chorus part is not mine,
as you will see; but probably quite as good. Quite enough on that score.
I really want to know how you like your new Quarters in dear old London: how you are; and whether relieved from Anxiety concerning Mr. Leigh. It was a Gale indeed, such as the oldest hereabout say they do not remember: but it was all from the East: and I do not see why it should have travelled over the Atlantic.
If you are easy on that account, and otherwise pretty well in mind and Body, tell me if you have been to see the Lyceum ‘Cup’ [206a] and what you make of it. Somebody sent me a Macmillan [206b] with an Article about it by Lady Pollock; the extracts she gave seemed to me a somewhat lame imitation of Shakespeare.
I venture to think—and what is more daring—to write, that my Eyes are better, after six weeks’ rest and Blue Glasses. But I say so with due regard to my old Friend Nemesis.
I have heard nothing about my dear Donne since you wrote: and you only said that you had not heard a good account of him. Since then you have, I doubt not, seen as well as heard. But, now that I see better (Absit Invidia!) I will ask Mowbray.
It is well, I think, that Carlyle desired to rest (as I am told he did) where he was born—at Ecclefechan, from which I have, or had, several Letters dated by
him. His Niece, who had not replied to my note of Enquiry, of two months ago, wrote to me after his Death.
Now I have written enough for you as well as for myself: and am yours always the same
Littlegrange. *
* ‘What foppery is this, sir?’—Dr. Johnson.