The cumulative effect of all these letters, both approving and disapproving; of the preachings on Robert’s opinions that began with Mr. Haweis in May, and continued at intervals throughout the summer; of the general atmosphere of celebrity that began to surround her, was extremely upsetting to so sensitive a nature as Mrs. Ward’s, and much of it was and remained distasteful to her. But fame had its lighter sides. There were the inevitable sonnets, beginning
“I thank you, Lady, for your book so pure,”
or
“Hail to thee, gentle leader, puissant knight!”—
there were inquiries as to the address of the “New Brotherhood of Christ,” “so that next time we are in London we may attend some of its meetings,” and there was a gentleman who demanded to know “the opus no. of the Andante and Scherzo of Beethoven mentioned on p. 239, and of Hans Sachs’s Immortal Song quoted on p. 177. I am in want of a little fresh music for one of my daughters and shall esteem your kind reply.” And finally there was the following letter, which must be transcribed in full:
DEAR MADAM,—
Trusting to your Clemency, in seeking your advice, knowing my sphere in life, to be so far below your’s. My Mother, who is a Cook-Housekeeper, but very fond of Literature, Poetry (“unfortunately”), in her younger days brought out a small volume, upon her own account, a copy of which Her Majesty graciously accepted. Tennyson considered it most “meritorious,” Caryle most “creditable.” But what I am asking your advice upon is her “Autography,” her Cook’s Career, which has been a checquered one. She feels quite sure, that if it were brought out by an abler hand, it would be widely sought and read, at least by two classes “my Ladies” and Cooks. The matter would be truth, names and places strictously ficticious. With much admiration and respect,
I am, Madam,
Yours Obediently,
A. A.
History does not record what reply Mrs. Ward made to this interesting proposal, but no doubt she took it all as part of the great and amusing game that Fate was playing with her. As to that game—“I have still constant letters and reviews,” she wrote to her father on July 17, “and have been more lionized this last month than ever.—But a little lionizing goes a long way! One’s sense of humour protests, not to speak of anything more serious, and I shall be very glad to get to Borough next week. As to my work, it is all in uncertainty. For the present Miss Sellers is coming to me in the country, and I shall work hard at Latin and Greek, especially the Greek of the New Testament.”
And to her old friend, Mrs. Johnson, she wrote: “Being lionized, dear Bertha, is the foolishest business on earth; I have just had five weeks of it, and if I don’t use it up in a novel some day it’s a pity. The book has been strangely, wonderfully successful and has made me many new friends. But I love my old ones so much best!” This latter sentiment is expressed again in a letter to Mr. Ward: “Strange how tenacious are one’s first friendships! No other friends can ever be to me quite like Charlotte or Louise or Bertha or Clara.[13] They know all there is to know, bad and good—and with them one is always at ease.”