Miss Eden's Letters

by Emily Eden

ARMAGH, 1828.

Here I am translated to Armagh. I got through the journey and all the bother wonderfully by Georgina St. Quintin’s[290] help. I parted with her in Dublin, where I spent five days, and where I found Lady Glengall, Mr. Villiers, Lord Forbes, Lady Erroll.[291] But I was glad to leave Dublin; even in those few days I saw so much tracasserie and fuss about nothing, that I would not live there on any account if I could help it. Emmy, I find that I am totally unfit for what is called the world, or anything like it. I have forgotten its ways and its language,—in short, I have seen too much sorrow to be up to it. I thought Dublin itself beautiful, and Lady Glengall was most good-natured,—crammed me into one of her own Hats and sent me to a ball at the Castle which was beautiful. I dined with all the military people, and came away nothing loth. The tyranny of the Few over the Many does not strike the eye so much here, although I believe this to be the very heart of it—the positive pips of the orange.

I have seen my new General. They say he is very gentlemanlike and good-natured. He seems to me stupid and vulgar, but pray double-lock this, for we cannot afford to quarrel with another General. We are nearly ruined by this last move, that is one of the things that makes me low. I am not at all sure that we shall not be obliged to sell out now, from money difficulties. So much sickness, and a move has thrown us back horribly, so you must bear with me now and then, my own Emmy. When I do not write it is because I am fretted and full of care. I keep up my spirits wonderfully, and am quite well as to health, and Sir Guy, too, fights on manfully. He means to try all he can before he sells, but if he cannot manage, we must sell and say no more about the matter; but only think how much better off we are than others in the world. Write to me, my dear Emmy, for your letters do me good and cheer me. I was quite glad to talk about you to Mr. Villiers.\[292] He seemed to think it was extraordinary how much you loved me, and I began to think it oddish myself, for certainly je ne vaux pas grand chose, when I come to consider.

May 27, 1828.

Will you make another attempt to find Abby, he resorts much to that Mulligatawny fount frequented by Turtle, and on the banks of which curry grows spontaneous,—the Oriental Club?

I do not much like this place, but we have many negative blessings—a quiet peaceable General, an Adjutant-General full of abstruse erudition. Talking of this man, by the bye, I want to know whether the Committee of useful knowledge know that there are gangs of half-informed science-mongers, who are going about quoting the information they plunder out of the library, and bringing it out as their own topics, without giving notice of where they have taken them. This said Colonel Moore (nephew to Sir Graham[293]) is a nefarious pilferer, and tried to cram the information of the Duke’s[294] Bill down my throat as his own discovery.

Emily, the day is at hand when we shall sigh for a plain fool and the sight of a natural will be good for sore eyes. We shall, it is hardly doubted, have a row here, for our Orangemen are frantic, and will walk and will play their horrid tunes. We had a man killed in a fray a week ago about a drum.

Lady Campbell to Miss Eden.

June 2, 1828.

MY DEAR EMMY, You are right, there is nothing like answering directly, but my dear child, I have nothing to tell you. Here one day certifieth the other, and I see no one, nothing happens—lessons and walks and eating—and now and then a bore drops in by way of a change. And the people speak so as to be tolerably understood, and their rags are sufficient to cover them, and there is not that variety of dislocation among the limbs of the beggars, which now and then accorded us a topic in the south. You might as well expect a letter from a silkworm out of the very heart of its cocoon....