On Lady Ducie’s death.
I can hardly yet realise what the void in my life will be from the loss of the friend of some thirty years, and of such a friend. She was quite unique, the majesty of intellect being only equalled by the depths of her affection, and the greatness of her spirit. The intercourse has been unclouded for all these years; and there will be a void that nothing can fill. Still all this is a great possession, and one to be thankful for; and I feel very near her now, and will try to live better for the sight of what such a spirit can be.
Letter about a book called “Neighbours of Ours,” a series of East End scenes.
190 Marylebone Road, N.W.,
March 7th, 1895.
To Mr. Henry Nevinson.
I have received your most kind letter and the book. I am very much pleased to possess it, but feel rather ashamed at your having the trouble to send it to me. Thank you for it very much.
It is quite true that I have been deeply interested in it. It seems to me an absolutely true picture of people in a stratum of society never before described in literature. It is a picture drawn with real human sympathy, and shows, in a beautiful way, how human affection survives, as the divine spark, in the midst of much degradation. The dramatic power of the book seems to me remarkable; the only time that the author reveals himself is in the tenderness of the chosen title, which should go home to us as a rebuke, but to the people as a pledge of deep human sympathy.
I fear the book will be little understood. I can think of but few who will pierce below the low state of civilisation to what is good; and the absence of the sentimental pictures of virtues our Londoners have not, which prevail in current writing, will deceive many. But, for the few who know or who can see how much mess and confusion co-exist in men with sparks of created nobleness, the book will be a record and a treasure. Thank you for it very much.
The fun is most refreshing.