E. E.
Miss Eden to Lady Charlotte Greville.
Thursday, October 1830.
MY dear Lady Charlotte, Your note reached me only yesterday, as it made a little detour to Middleton in search of George; but with all that delay it was the first intelligence I had of Lady F.’s[353] safety. The Morning Herald never mentions anything pleasant, and Charles Drummond, whom I had charged to make due enquiries of Mr. H. Greville, of course forgot it. How glad I am she has a girl at last![354] I think we all deserve some credit for it, for all her friends have gone on day by day so duly wishing for a young lady for her, that I cannot but think we may have great pride in the result. It is unknown the trouble Lady G. de Roos and I gave ourselves about it all the time we were at Broadstairs. My sisters, who are learned in those matters, assured me Lady F. would have a girl this time, she was so long about it. Did you know that girls, with that tact and penetration we all have, shew a greater reluctance to coming into this bad world than boys do, who are always ready for any mischief? Girls put off coming into this world as long as they possibly can, knowing what a difficult life it is. Just mind, as you are on the spot, that this little concern is like its Mama. I should like her to be exactly the same, should not you?
We enjoyed our Broadstairs so very much, and all the more, because it was not Ramsgate. I took the look of Ramsgate in great aversion. We knew nobody at Broadstairs but Lady G. de Roos, who was without her husband, and therefore very glad to be a great deal with us. The quiet and dowdiness of Broadstairs is a great charm. We were out all day, sketching or poking about for shells. I wonder whether you went to Shellness, a little creek whose shores are covered with shells—not a stone or a bit of sand—all shells. I never saw such a curious place. We made one long expedition to Dover, and if ever I went to the sea on my own account, I mean not on a visit to anybody, I should pitch my tent at Dover. It is so very beautiful and so cheerful looking. We stayed a fortnight at Broadstairs.
George seems to have a very diplomatic party at Middleton: Esterhazy,[355] Talleyrand,[356] Madame de Dino, the expectation of the Duke of Wellington, etc., etc. Colonel Anson, I suppose you know, has ascertained that he has £15,000 less than nothing, which would be an uncomfortable property to settle on, and Lord Anson says he can do nothing for him but give him a living. If he ends by taking orders, I think Thorpe will find his congregation fall off considerably; there will be such a press to hear that popular preacher Anson.
Lady Cowper has written to ask us to Panshanger next week, but I believe George will not be able to go; he has a shooting-engagement in another direction. However, till he comes back from Middleton, I do not know. I am not ambitious to move again, as we must so soon go to that vile London for that foolish Parliament, and our little garden is so full of flowers, and gives so much occupation in collecting seeds and making cuttings, that I grudge leaving it, even for a day. In all the reproaches that are lavished on these Ministers, I wonder nobody has ever written a biting pamphlet on their only real fault, which is bringing us all to London the end of October—a sort of tyranny for which a Minister would have been impeached in better days. I am dreadfully at a loss for some political feelings. I cannot find anybody to wish for, and, upon the whole, am in the miserably dull predicament of rather hoping things may remain as they are. I suppose that mean Huskisson set are coming in, which is unpleasant, but as they were sure to fourrer themselves in somehow or anyhow, I am prepared for it. I never hear from Maria. I suspect they are bored at Sprotbro’, as she is always silent when she is bored.
My best love to Lady F. with my entire approbation of her conduct about this little girl. Ever your affectionate