II.
The real neighbours in life do not depend on vicinity only, they have a way of continuing to be neighbours quite irrespective of their different addresses. The Tennysons had ever a very faithful following of old friends wherever they happened to be, none more faithful than Julia Cameron.
As I have said the first letter quoted from Twickenham was followed by a life-long correspondence. Mrs. Tennyson had hurt her wrist in early youth and writing was often difficult to her; though until her son grew up almost the whole of her husband’s correspondence depended upon her.
Mrs. Cameron on the contrary loved her pen. She wrote a large and flowing hand. She allowed herself more space in life and on paper than is usually accorded to other people. I remember her offering to write for my father. ‘Nobody writes as well as I do’ she said.
It was in 1854 that the Tennysons first settled at Farringford. Those must have been happy days for Mrs. Tennyson, though the trial of delicate health was always there. She sends to her friend, describing the sights to be seen from her drawing-room windows:
‘The elms make a golden girdle round us now. The dark purple bills of England behind are a glorious picture in the morning when the sun shines on them and the elm trees....’
Again:
‘It is tantalizing to have a big smooth rounded down just in front of a large window and to be forbidden by bitter winter blasts to climb it. It is a pity the golden furze is not in bloom, for when it is, it makes a gorgeous contrast to the blue Solent.... Alfred has been reading “Hamlet” to me and since then has been drawn to the bay by the loud voice of the sea.... There is something so wholesome in beauty and it is not for me to try to tell of all we have here in those delicate tints of a distant bay and the still more distant headlands. These I see every day with my own eyes, and so many other things with his, when he comes back from his walk.’
Of her two boys she writes:
‘People say they are winning children, even those who are neither poets nor mothers. What should I do if I had not a poet’s heart to share my feelings for the children?’
We get a pretty glimpse of Alfred one Christmas time putting on little Hallam’s coatee, a present from Mrs. Cameron, needless to say.
‘Thanks, thanks, thanks,’ says Mrs. Tennyson. ‘And for my frill, as Alfred calls it, and for the big beautiful ball which charms Hallam beyond measure and delights baby too, only with so much of fear in the delight that he dare not approach the giant without having Mother’s hand in his. I do hope that I shall hear you are all well and that things grow brighter and brighter as Christmas comes on, for I cannot accept old Herbert’s gloomy version of things. I will admit most thankfully that griefs are joys in disguise, but not the converse except as a half truth, and half truths are the most dangerous of all. God wills us to be happy even here ... only let us give happiness its most exalted sense. I often think one is not told of joy as a Christian virtue as one ought to be. This however is rather by the way, for joy can subsist with sorrow, and happiness cannot be without happy circumstances.’
Another Christmas brings more acknowledgments for other gifts, and also friendly reproaches. ‘The only drawback is the old complaint that you will rain down precious things upon us, not drop by drop, but in whole Golconda mines at once.’ Mrs. Cameron pays little attention to such warnings, for the next letter from Mrs. Tennyson begins with thanks again. ‘Why will you send us these beautiful things which are so beautiful?’
Mrs. Tennyson was afraid of wounding her friend; she tried reprisals perhaps, which we may guess at as we read Mrs. Cameron’s own reproaches and eulogies combined in a letter concerning an Easter gift:
‘It was really an Easter Day offering to my spirit which seemed to tell me of “a bride in raiment clean” and “a glittering star” such as I may through God’s grace be some day, but now I am a grandmother with every vestige of grace gone, not preserving, as you do, a youthful figure; and truly I am not worthy of the lovely jacket and therefore I shall bring it back.... Mr. Jowett has been sitting with Charles and when he would long for the open air comes to cheer and enliven him. Truly he has a sweet virtue.’
Her name for Jowett was ‘little Benjamin their ruler.’ Her picture of him in her gallery will be remembered.
Mrs. Cameron the Martha friend loved to work for the Mary friend. We read of a hat with a long feather and broad blue ribbons to be ordered in London—then messages and details about furniture from the mistress of Farringford.
‘I have tried many times to get some violet-coloured cloth, because Alfred has always admired the violet covering in your dining-room. Will you do me the kindness to get me some sufficiently good?’
Then she goes on to give news of her home, of the bay-window being added to the study, ‘that dear little room hallowed by so many associations which should scarcely be touched even in improvement.’
‘Are you afraid of our falling leaves,’ she writes, urging Mrs. Cameron to come to stay with them. ‘We sweep them up diligently every day for the good of our own little ones and there would be an increased diligence for the sake of your poor sick lamb. I am so glad you returned thanks in Church. I am sure the world would be better if we claimed our right of brotherly sympathy with all, for it is only those who give theirs beforehand, who think of claiming it....’
One letter dated January 1, 1855, might have been written word for word to-day.
‘Many, many happy New Years to you, my dear Mrs. Cameron, and to all you love. How vain is this wish for thousands on this particular year! It is difficult to interest oneself in any common events. Only one’s friends can take off one’s thoughts from the war....’
Mrs. Tennyson envies someone who has sent out a shipload of help.
‘Ah, well! We may all do our little if we will but do what we have to do, and not waste our time in vain longings for that which is given to others to do. You can never have been guilty of this in all your life....’