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....’