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The greater number of the following letters were 
selected, and the notes written, by my aunt, Lady 
Grey, with a twofold purpose in view. First, to 
gather together such matters of interest or import- 
ance in the lives of her mother and grandmother 
as might be for the benefit of her nieces and 
nephews ; secondly, with a view to publishing, 
perhaps in one of the Reviews, a short monograph 
of her grandmother. 

She often discussed this with me, but eventually 
age and various infirmities decided her to abandon 
the idea, and entrust the papers to me to do as I 
thought best and wisest, and, after looking over the 
information she gave me, various considerations 
induced me to publish them. 

For the personality of her own mother, Mrs. 
Sullivan, my aunt had a great admiration, and I 
have added such letters and information about her 
as I could collect ; but the materials were very scanty, 
I remember Mrs, Fanny Kemble telling me she con- 
sidered her a most remarkable woman, and regretting 
that, as a clergyman's wife in a country parish, and 
imbued with a strict sense of her duty to her 



position, she had but small scope for her powers. 
She died early, and during her married life was 
so engrossed by her children and by parish cares, 
she had little time to devote to other matters. 

She, and I believe S3''dney Smith, were the first 
to start allotment gardens in their parishes. 

From her step-father. Lord Dacre, she rented a 
field close to the village of Kimpton, dividing it 
into plots which she sublet to the labourers with 
great success. This field continues to be used for 
the same purpose to the present day, 

1 have endeavoured to preserve my aunt's arrange- 
ment of the papers as closely as possible, but I 
feel that in so doing hardly enough is said of my 
aunt herself She was by nature a woman of such 
great reserve and modesty that she could not do 
justice to her own abilities, and she would have 
shrunk from any attention being drawn to details 
of her life and character. 

It is difficult for me to write of one so near 
and so beloved — being tempted alternately to praise 
and then to refrain from doing so — lest I should 
speak too warmly; but I have essayed, as best I 
may, to render justice to her character and to 
the many qualities in it which stir my pride and 

I never knew any one who took a keener interest 
in the concerns of those she loved, or who, though 


somewhat biassed on behalf of her favourites, main- 
tained on the whole a more level judgment as to 
their conduct. 

When I looked over her papers after her death 
I appreciated more than ever her knowledge of 
the world, her discrimination of how words or 
actions would appear to other people, and her 
own almost absurd personal unworldliness. 

I should like to take this opportunity to offer 
my best thanks to all who have kindly permitted 
me to publish the letters which add so much to 
the interest of this volume, particularly to the 
Dowager Lady Dufferin, Lord Grantley, Colonel 
Murray Graham, Mrs. Leigh, Lady Rose Weigall, 
and Lord Lytton, not forgetting Mr. Murray and 
his kind permission to reproduce the wax model 
of a horse by Lady Dacre in his possession. 





The Sullivans — The Wilmots . i 


The Ogles — Letters of William and Savvrey Gilpin— Mrs. 
Wilmot at Hampton Court — Madame de Gontaut-Biron — 
Various Friends — Miss Catherine Fanshawe — " Le Champ 
at le Laboureur" — Letters of Mr. Tom Sheridan and of 
Miss Joanna Baillie— Early Life of Lord Dacre — Letters of 
Miss Joanna Baillie, of Lady Dacre to Mr. Chantrey, and of 
Mr. Brougham — Monti's Sonnet — Ugo Foscolo ... 8 


Birth of Brand and Barbarina Sullivan — Tour in France — Birth 
of Gertrude Sullivan — Removal to Kimpton — Birth of 
Bertram Sullivan — Letters of Lord Lynedoch — Mrs. Sulli- 
van's Letters to her Husband and Lady Dacre — " Recol- 
lections of a Chaperon" — Letter from Lord Dacre — "Tales 
of the Peerage and Peasantry" — Letters from Barbarina 
Sullivan, Lady Dacre, Lady G. Grey, and Sydney Smith . 50 


Birth of Frank — Death of Bertram — Birth of Harry — Lady Grey 
"To her Nieces" — Death of Mr. Huskisson — Mr. Bobus 
Smith — His Letters to Lady Dacre — Mr. Sullivan offered 
the Living of Fulham — Lady Grey " To her Nieces " — The 
Fire at Hatfield House — Lord Dacre to Lady G. Grey — 
Miss Mitford's Letters to Lady Dacre .... 83 

Journal of a Tour in Ireland . . . . . . .118 


Letters to Lady Dacre from Miss Mitford, Joanna Baillie, Sydney 
Smith, and Joanna Baillie— Mrs. F. Sullivan to Brand 
Sullivan on the Coronation — "Frogs and Bulls" — Joanna 
Baillie and Bobus Smith to Lady Dacre — Brand Sullivan 
to his Mother — Verses by Lady Dacre .... 142 

« b 




Death of Mrs. Sullivan — Letters to Lady Dacre from Joanna 
Baillie and Miss Mitford — Letter to Lord and Lady Dacre 
from Mr. Bobus Smith — Lady Grey's Notes to her Nieces 
— Letters from Lady Burghersh, Mr. Bobus Smith, and Lord 
Dacre — Imitation from Clarendon's "History of his own 
Times" — Fables by Lady Dacre— Death of Brand Sullivan 
— Letters from Mr. Bobus Smith — Mr. Sullivan's Second 
Marriage — Letters from Fanny Kemble to Barbarina 
Sullivan— From Mr. Bobus Smith to Lady Dacre — Lady 
Grey's Notes — Lady Dacre to her Granddaughter — Sir E. 
Bulwer Lytton to Lady Dacre 159 

Gertrude Sullivan's Journal 197 


Notes by Lady Grey, with Accounts of her iMarriage — Life at 
Howick Grange — The Queen's Visit to Hovvick — Lady 
Dacre to Mrs. Grey— Lady Dufferin, Lord Dufferin, Miss 
Joanna Baillie, and Mrs. Norton to Lady Dacre — Lady 
Dacre to Mrs. Grey — Sir E. Bulwer Lytton to Lady Dacre 
—Lady Dacre to Mrs. Grey — Death of Lord Dacre — Lady 
Dacre to her Grandson Frank and to Mrs. Grey . . 235 


" The Man without a Name " — Letters from Lady Dacre and 
the Rev. F. Sullivan to Mrs. Grey — Sonnets by Lady Dacre 
— The Greys winter at Palermo — Funeral of the Duke of 
Wellington — Lady Dacre's Letters to her Grandson Frank 269 


The Greys at Madeira — The Crimean War — Death of Lady 
Dacre — The Greys go to Malta, to Constantinople, to 
the Crimea, to Malta again, return to Constantinople — 
Their House burnt to the Ground — Peace declared — Return 
to England — Greys sail for the Cape — Black Town^The 
Indian Mutiny — Arrival of Dr. Livingstone — Tours up the 
Country — In the Boscazuen to Mauritius, to Bourbon, to 
Madagascar, to Johanna Island, return to Simon's Bay — 
Zandvliet — Arrival of the Fot'te — Return to England — 
At the Admiralty— At Lynwood 279 


Post-scriptum 330 

Index 339 



(from a PAINTLNG by HOPPNER) . . Frontispiece- 

FACING page: 


miniature) 13; 


SULLIVAN (from MINIATURES) . . . . 50 




MURRAY) 210 







The SuUivans — or O'Sullivans — are an Irish family 
of old Milesian blood from County Kerry, 

Benjamin Sullivan, who first dropped the prefix 
" O," son of Philip O'Sullivan of Dromeragh, was 
appointed, by Letters Patent, Clerk to the Crown 
for the counties of Cork and Waterford. His eldest 
son, Benjamin, went to India, where he became 
one of the puisne judges of the Supreme Court of 
Judicature in Madras, and was knighted. Like his 
father, he seemed to have had a fancy for dropping 
letters from his name, for he and his descendants 
spell their name Sulivan. 

The second son, John, was Under-Secretary of State 
for War from 1801 to 1805, and a member of the Privy 

The third son, Richard Joseph, went to India in 
early life with his brother John. On his return he 
made a tour in the United Kingdom, publishing an 
account of his travels. He also published "An Anal3'sis 
of the Political History of India," " Thoughts on Martial 
Law," " Reflections on the Laws, Manners, Customs, 



and Religions of certain Asiatic, Afric, and European 
Nations," and other works. 

In the Parliament of 1790, Mr. Sullivan sat for the 
borough of New Romney ; in 1802 he was returned 
for Seaford ; in 1804 he was created a baronet; and 
died in 1806. 

At the age of twenty-six he married Miss Lodge, of 
a Yorkshire family. Their eldest son, Henry, succeeded 
his father in the baronetcy ; was lieut.-colonel in the 
Coldstream Guards ; he fell in a sortie from Bayonne 
in 1 8 14 at the age of twenty-nine, and is buried in the 
Guards' cemetery there. He was unmarried, and 
Charles, the second son, succeeded him. 

The latter was in the Navy: he married Jean, only 
daughter of Robert Taylor of Ember Court, Surrey. 
He, his wife, and children, and Ember Court itself are 
mentioned several times in Gertrude Sullivan's 

Edward, the third brother, died comparatively young, 
leaving two children : Richard, married Hessie, 
daughter of Laurence Cloete of Zandtvliet, Cape of 
Good Hope, and Maria, married to Sir John Lees, Bart, 
of Blackrock, County Dublin. 

The fourth son, Frederick, was born February i, 
1797, and took orders. 

Arthur, in the 65th regiment, died of smallpox in 

William, also a soldier, lived to be an old man : he 
married Euphemia, widow of Captain Dalton, R.E., 
and died in 1870. 

Sir Richard had only two daughters : Charlotte, 
who married William Hale of King's Walden, Hert- 
fordshire, in 1824, and Eliza, married in 18 14 to the 
Hon. and Rev. Frederick Plcydcll Bouverie. 

The fourth son, Frederick Sullivan, was a tall, 


well-made man, fair-haired, with very blue eyes and a 
gentle, charming manner. He was a beautiful horse- 
man, and I cannot help thinking this accomplishment 
may have caused him to find favour in the eyes of 
his future wife, and most certainly in those of her 
mother. Lady Dacre. He married in 1821 Arabella 
Jane (born May i, 1796, in Manchester Street), the 
only surviving child of Valentine Henry Wilmot of 
Farnborough, Hants, and his wife, Barbarina Ogle. 

Henry Wilmot of Farnborough Place married 
Sarah, second daughter of Colonel Valentine Morris 
of Piercefield Park, Monmouthshire, and had two 
children : Valentine Henry, an officer in the Guards, 
mentioned above, and Elizabeth Sarah, who married 
James Seton. 

Mr. Henry Wilmot, who was for many years secre- 
tary to Lord Chancellor Camden, had made a con- 
siderable fortune in his profession (that of a lawyer), 
and entertained with liberality and hospitality both 
in Bloomsbury Square and at Farnborough Park, 
then called Farnborough Place. In those days old 
Windsor Forest extended to and included Farn- 
borough Park. 

In 1777 Hannah More writes to her sister : 

Farnborough Place. 

We reached this place yesterday morning. You 
will judge of the size of the house when I tell you 
there are eleven visitors, and all perfectly well ac- 
commodated. The Wilmots live in the greatest 
magnificence ; but what is a much better thing, they 
live also rationally and sensibly. On Sunday eve- 
ning, however, I was a little alarmed ; they were 
preparing for music (sacred music was the osfensible 
thing), but before I had time to feel uneasy, Garrick 
turned round and said : " You are a Sunday woman, 
I will recall you when the music is over," . . . The 
Great Seal disappointed us, but we have Lady 


Bathurst, Lady Catherine Apsley, Dr. Kennicott, the 
Hebrew Professor at Oxford, his wife, a very agree- 
able woman, (though she copies Hebrew !) besides 
the Garricks and two or three other very clever 
people. We live with the utmost freedom and ease 
imaginable, walking together, or in small parties, 

David Garrick was a constant visitor at Farnborough ; 
during one of his visits he wrote to Valentine Henry 
as follows : 

To Master Wilmot 

Upon the Death of his Favourite Cat, Hoppy 

No more, dear Youth, shall Hoppy scratch and purr ; 
O never fondle Animals like Her. 
From every naughty Puss guard well thy mind, 
Wicked and wanton, all are after kind. 
Would'st thou shun cat and sirelike love the law, 
Thou'lt ne'er be clawed and scratched, but scratch and 

Upon the garden wall at Farnborough there still 
exists, 1 believe, a tablet with verses by Garrick 
commemorating the said " Hoppy" ; upon some other 
occasion he wrote the following invitation to Mr. 
Wilmot : 

My Wilmot dear. 
Your Garrick hear, 
With friendship steady 
Beds are ready. 
One, two, or three. 
For men like Thee. 
Our joys of Life 
Are you and wife. 
Babes, Sister too,* 
And all from you. 
So come away. 
On marriage day, 

' [Caroline Morris, lived with her sister, Mrs. Wilmot.] 


With cares unvext, 

('Tis Tuesday next) 

And let us laugh, 

Good liquor quaff, 

Our Friends will toast 

(Our love and boast) 

To lill our cup 

Of Transport up, 

Camden, imprimis. 

To Him no Rhyme is. 

Nor equal neither — 

Haste you hither 

To eat and drink 

Till eyelid wink, 

Then lay your heads 

On well-aired beds ; 

To you and spouse 
My loving wife insures 

Herself, heart, house 
And Husband wholly yours. 

(Signed) D. G. 

Sir Joshua Reynolds was also a friend of the Wilmots, 
and my cousin, Captain A. Seton Christopher, has in 
his possession a portrait of Mrs. Wilmot and her 
daughter, Mrs, Seton, which Sir Joshua painted as a 
grateful acknowledgment of a very pleasant visit to 
Farnborough, He has also a pastel copy of Sir Joshua's 
" Infant Samuel," which was made by Mrs. Seton in 
Sir Joshua's own studio at the time the picture was 
being painted. 

The following letter, evidently written in reply to 
some inquiries, gives a short account of the family : 

Extract from a Letter of Mr. G. Pcnn 

Stoke Park, 
May 4, 1837. 

Dear Frederick Sullivan, 

The particulars which you wish to be communi- 
cated would be very imperfectly imparted through an 
intermediate hand ; I shall therefore make it a pleasure 


to draw on a memory of nearly seventy-six years and 
record them myself. 

Old Mr. and Mrs. Wilmot, Mrs. Sullivan's grand- 
father and grandmother, were most intimate friends of 
my father and mother, and of different branches of 
our family and particularly of Lady Charlotte Finch, 
governess of the children of George III. A more con- 
stant intercourse, personal and epistolary, could not 
exist between two families than existed between Farn- 
borough and Stoke for the first fifteen years of my life, 
when the consequences of the Revolution in America 
made us break up from Stoke, and pass a few years on 
the Continent. Old Mr. Wilmot was my father's 
solicitor, and solicitor also for the affairs of 
Pennsylvania under my father's government, so long 
as that province remained in the possession of the 
British Crown. 

On my mother's return to England (she being a 
widow), I well remember that one of her first resorts 
was to Farnborough : this was in 1782. During those 
early years the Wilmots were repeatedly here, and the 
children of both houses grew together in intimacy ; 
viz. Henry Wilmot, your wife's father, and his Sister, 
afterwards Mrs. Seton. With whom was also always 
Mrs. Wilmot's sister, Mrs. Morris, whom we all much 

Old Mr. Wilmot made himself a great favourite with 
all the young generation. He was remarkably 
cheerful and fond of us all. He lived much, not only 
with the high in rank, but with the wits of his day. 
He was an enthusiastic of Shakespear, and loved to 
read his plays aloud to a circle of friends. Being cor- 
pulent, and having a countenance capable of giving 
edge to fun, he took particular pleasure in presenting 
the character of FalstafT. His bulk acquired for him 
among his intimate friends, both young and old, the 
name of " Giant Wilmot," with which appellation he 
was always amused and pleased. He was, as also 
his family, in close intimacy with the family of Lord 
Chancellor Bathurst, under whom he held some legal 
office in Chancery. 

Very sincerely yours, 

G. Penn 


For a short time after their marriage Mr. and Mrs. 
Frederick SulHvan lived at Hambledon near Godalming, 
where Mr. SulHvan had a curacy. 

Two years before (in 18 19) Mrs. Wilmot had married 
Thomas Brand, Lord Dacre. To comprehend fully the 
lives of the young couple and of the younger genera- 
tion, some account of these interesting and much-loved 
grandparents is necessary. 


The Ogles — Letters of William and Sawrey Gilpin — Mrs. Wilmot at 
Hampton Court — Madame de Gontaut-Biron — Various Friends 
— Miss Catherine Fanshawe — " Le Champ et le Laboureur" — 
Letters of Mr. Tom Sheridan and of Miss Joanna Baillie — Early 
life of Lord Dacre — Letters of Miss Joanna Baillie, of Lady Dacre 
to Mr. Chantrey, and of Mr. Brougham — Monti's Sonnet — Ugo 

Barbarina, Lady Dacre/ was the third daughter 
of Admiral Sir Chaloner Ogle, Bart., by Hester, the 
youngest daughter and co-heir of John Thomas, D.D., 
Bishop of Winchester. 

Her father seems to have been a clever oddity, culti- 
vated, fond of French and Italian, and ready to forgive 
any childish crimes if they were atoned for by a copy 
of verses, though hasty and severe at other times. He 
was very absent, and used to drive about the country 
repeating poetry and declaiming aloud, his children 
meanwhile being allowed to scramble about the carriage 
and occasionally to tumble out without his perceiving 
it. My grandmother used to say there was a tradition 
that the labourers would run after him crying out, 
" Sir Chaloner, Sir Chaloner, here is one of your 
children ; you have dropped it in the road." Upon 
which he would take the child, replace it in the head or 
elsewhere, and drive on quite undisturbed. 

There were three daughters : Sophia, married to Sir 
Charles Asgill, was both beautiful and clever ; Arabella, 
who married first the Hon. Edward Bouverie, and 

' She was born in 1768. 


secondly the Hon. Robert Talbot, was not so clever, 
but most amiable and much admired ; Barbarina, mar- 
ried first, Valentine Henry Wilmot of Farnborough, 
Hants, an officer in the Guards, and secondly Lord 
Dacre : she was remarkably gifted both as a writer and 
an artist. Her name was suggested in a spirit of 
gallantry on the part of her father, who greatly admired 
a lady named Barbara, and asked her to be godmother 
to his next daughter. She consented on the condition 
that the name should not be Barbara, and Sir 
Chaloner promised, compromising the matter, how- 
ever, by Italianising the name into little Barbara. 

There were two sons : Charles, the eldest, whom 
I remember as a very fine looking old admiral, not 
reckoned by his family as clever ; and James, whom 
I never saw, but of whom I have often heard my 
grandmother speak with great affection as Brother 
Jem. He was, I imagine, more like the clever and 
rather peculiar family who were spoken of as men, 
women, and Ogles. 

I suppose I must not put down all that I used to 
extract from my granny about her childhood, but it was 
a peculiar one. Her mother was a very gentle, meek 
woman, by no means so clever or educated as her 
daughters, but greatly loved. The clever and eccentric 
father was evidently proud of them, and took great care 
as to their studies of French and Italian, in which they 
were thoroughly proficient, their riding, and their 
general conduct, though with a mixture of great indul- 
gence and hasty severity which would be thought 
strange nowadays. As an instance of his petulance, 
the two sisters, Bab and Arabella, having committed 
some childish freak which irritated him, were pursued 
by him with a horse-whip. Bab took refuge in a tree, 
where she remained till the storm had passed, and on 


climbing down was received with amusement and 
forgiveness ; while poor Arabella, not being so fleet 
of foot, was caught and received a certain amount of 

Among the girlish amusements of the sisters the 
education of animals held a great place. They had 
rabbits, and passed many hours seated in the large 
brewing-tub trying to develop their intellects ; but I 
believe wholly in vain. They had also a family of baby 
rats, which they kept in a drawer — a profound secret — 
their fingers, however, being often bitten to the sur- 
prise and concern of their mother, until the rats 
fortunately gnawed their way out of the drawer and 

One little proof of the contrast in manners and customs 
between those days and the present is that it was then 
a recognised habit of the ladies to steer clear of the 
gentlemen when they came out from the long sitting 
after the early dinner on the summer evenings. 

This reminds me of the story we were very fond of 
hearing from our granny. She used to say that at an 
early age she came to the conclusion that there was 
some extraordinary satisfaction in getting drunk, and 
that this was a gratification which men most selfishly 
and unjustly kept entirely to themselves. In her secret 
soul she was determined to discover and to enjoy this 
happiness, and having contrived, by hook or by crook, 
to get possession of a big "black jack" of strong ale, she 
retired into an out-of-the-way part of the garden, where, 
seated under a bush on a warm summer afternoon, she 
proceeded slowly and systematically to absorb the ale. 
She found it very tiresome and disagreeable work, but 
persevered until she fell fast asleep, in which state she 
was discovered by her sisters, the " black jack " at her 
side. Thus her only experience of the secret joys of 


drinking was a bad sick headache, and it is unnecessary 
to say that the experience was not repeated or the 
mystery solved. 

I do not know at what age my granny married Mr. 
Wilmot.^ Indeed, I do not think I ever heard her speak 
of him; I imagine he was a neighbouring squire, and 
that the bond of union was their common passion for 
horses. What, I believe, fired my granny's enthusiasm, 
was a way Mr. Wilmot had of taking a pair of un- 
broken thoroughbreds, putting them into a curricle at 
the top of a steep hill, and driving them straight off at 
full speed down the hill. There was no pulling, no 
feeling of collar or traces, the harness all hung loose, 
and shook into its place; moreover, it was not very easy 
to stop. In short, by the time the horses had got 
down the hill they were beginning to be acclimatised 
and reconciled to the situation. 1 fancy there was 
very little else in which there was any companionship. 
Mr. Wilmot did not share in any of the cultivated tastes 
of his wife, and I have been told that, though good- 
natured and kind, he was by no means a model 
husband, but given to amusing himself in a way that 
was quite unbearable by a high-spirited young woman. 

Mrs. Wilmot was one of the most accomplished 
women of her time. Her drawings in Indian ink are 
quite remarkable for composition, as well as for the 
correct drawing of her animal subjects, and the light 
and shade always seem to be especially admirable. 
Her models were greatly admired, and furnish designs 
for two or three racing cups : the bas reliefs of horses 
are very delicately and beautifully modelled. She 
worked much in wax, a receipt for which was given her 
by Flaxman. It is some evidence of the estimation in 
which her taste and knowledge were held by both 

' [In 1789.] 


painters and sculptors, that both were always glad to 
have her visit their studios and give her opinion on the 
works in hand. On many of these occasions I accom- 
panied her, and can still remember the coldness of the 
marble dust in which I stood while my grandmother 
and her friends were occupied with interminable 
artistic discussions. I thought Landseer's far the most 
interesting and attractive of the painters' studios. 

The following letters from William and Sawrey 
Gilpin were written to Mrs. Wilmot during the early 
years of her married life. 

[William Gilpin and his brother Sawrey were the 
sons of Captain Gilpin, who lived near Carlisle. 
William held a curacy for a short time in London, 
and then took a school at Cheam in Surrey. He 
was an educational reformer in advance of his time, 
and encouraged the love of gardening and business 
habits among his pupils. During his summer vaca- 
tions, he undertook sketching tours, and his writings 
on the subject have caused his name to become well 
known. In 1777 he was presented the living of 
Boldre in the New Forest, and lived there for the 
remainder of his life. He published many books on 
landscape, " Lectures on the Catechism," etc. He 
was an assiduous worker in his parish, and built 
and endowed a parish school with a house for the 
master. He died in 1804 at Boldre, where he was 
buried. He wrote in 1791 the " Memoirs of Dr. Richard 
Gilpin, of Scaleby Castle, in Cumberland," which was 
issued in 1879 by the Cumberland and Westmoreland 
Antiquarian Society. 

His younger brother, Sawrey Gilpin, was born in 
1733 and died in 1807. He was one of the best painters 
of horses this country has produced : his historical 
jjiclures were less successful. He was an animal 

painter only, and required the assistance of others to 
paint the landscapes and figures of his pictures ; he 
frequently procured the assistance of Barret, R.A., 
for the former, with the latter John Zoffany repeatedly 
helped him. He was an exhibitor with the Incor- 
porated Society of Artists : in 1774 he became 
President. After losing his wife, he lived for some 
time with his great friend, Samuel Whitbread, in 
Bedfordshire. He died in Brompton in 1807 in his 
seventy-fourth year, and missed being a member of 
the Royal Academy by Sir Joshua Reynolds giving 
his casting vote in favour of Bonomi.] 

Mr. William Gilpin to Mrs. V. H. Wilmot 


Vicar's Hill, 
Jime 28, 1793. 

As you acknowledge my authority as your ghostly 
father 1 must address you in y^ style of my dear 
child ; but must, at y"" same time, give you to under- 
stand, y' after your failure in duty and respect, you 
could not suppose I could bring down my dignity to 
write immediately. However, I pass that over ; but 
I must add, that altho' your letter is a confession, it is 
such a confession as does not permit me to give you 
absolution. You seem determined to go on in y*" vain 
ways of your wicked world. Ah ! my child, my child, 
what shall I say to such naughty expressions, as that 
you are going to lead a very idle life all y" summer — t/iat 
you shall be in a train of dissipation and folly ^ ivhicli 
always allure you, thd they never afford you any satisfac- 
tion — that you have never given half an hour to any serious 

But now, my dear Mrs. Wilmot, to lay aside y" 
character of y" confessor, and assume that of y*" friend 
(wh. 1 sh'* do with much sincerity, if you w"^ allow 
me), it really hurts me to see a mind like yours, filled 
with sense, talents, and endowments of various kinds, 
carried round continually in such a vortex of folly 
(I speak from y' own confession), that you must blush 


at every hour as it passes. You laugh and say, you 
are young. It is true, you are : but if God Almighty 
has given you double yf sense that belongs to y*" 
years. He will not perhaps accept y"" youth as an 

As I have dedicated these two pages to instruction, 
I shall dedicate y*" 3rd to y*-' arts : and do you consider 
y*- as a piece of useful advice, by bestowing double y^ 
time on one wh. ye do on y" other. 

I daresay y'' sketches are very clever. I always 
thought y™ so ; but I do not wonder at y"" as I do 
at y'" model. Modelling is certainly y'' forte : only I 
am afraid, if I were to look into y"" modelling room, 
1 should think you too ambitious in showing y"" skill 
in anatomy, I w*^ aim more at character than attitude. 
In character you excell. I know not whether I admire 
more y" indolent strength of y"" bull, or y^ elastic 
spirit of y"" horse. They both stand in my dressing- 
room ; and I never look at either of y"\ but with 
renewed surprise. I know not what to say about my 
brother. His great picture, I understand, is come up, 
tho' not finished ; and I hoped it w'^ have drawn him 
up after it, like y*" tail of a kite. But I fear he has 
disengaged himself from it. I shall not expect him 
till I hear that he is absolutely set out. I have 
often advised him, instead of painting large pictures, 
to make small drawings of horses and cattle, and 
tell you freely, if he w"* take my advice, I am per- 
suaded, that where he now makes ten pounds, he w'' 
make fifty. Nobody but himself c'' do y" things he 
might do. 

My book is just finished. If y" letter finds you 
in London, and you would chuse it there, ask Mr. 
Blamire for it in my name. If not I can send it hence 
either to Southampton, Winchester, or Odiam, as you 
wish. If I had not deposited my confessional 
character, I sh"* injoin you as a penance to read it 
from end to end, before you look either into a French, 
or an Italian book. Make my best respects to Mr. 
Wilmot. We siiall be glad to see you — especially 
if you come with conlrition, and good resolutions 
about you. 

liclicvc me, your very sincere friend. 

Will. Gilpin. 


Mr. Saiurey Gilpin to Mrs. Wilmot 

November 12, 1798. 

My dear Madam, 

Mr. Garrard has made up youi^ groups of 
animals, I think, very cleverly, but I am sorry to 
inform you that it will be a week before they will be 
dry enough to oil ; when that operation is over they 
will be ready to deliver. He has engaged himself to 
send to the Royal Academy a detail of the transactions, 
with the documents relative to the Act for securing the 
copyright of models, to be deposited with their records. 
For drawing up this account he has taken the liberty 
of mentioning your name, but on more mature 
deliberation he thinks he ought not to send it without 
your consent. Have you any objection to his doing 
it? If you have, he will expunge it. The passage is 
as follows : — 

"... about this time a beautiful model of a horse, 
executed by Mrs. Wilmot, was pirated, and base 
copies of it sold in the streets, to which perhaps is 
owing that the publick has been favoured with no 
more of that ingenious lady's productions." 

Mr. Garrard has been carrying on his provincial 
characters of cattle with great expedition ; he has 
nearly compleated the work ; he has finished also an 
Indian bull and a zebra. He is just now seized with 
a violent longing to erect a statue of a bull in Smith- 
field Market, to be worshipped by all the graziers who 
frequent it ; I am only afraid that in order to its 
obtaining due honours it must be as well thriven as 
the idols of China. If he should succeed in this great 
point, he may expect to be gratified by the sweet 
musick of marrowbones and cleavers bearing part in 
the grand Smithfield chorus of ** Glory be to thee, 
Oh fat," etc. The pedestal may then, with propriety, 
be decorated with the emblems of genuine taste, 
festoons of knives and forks, spoons, plates, salt-cellars 
and mustard-pots may depend from cornucopiae, 
teaming with potatoes, cabages, and elegant sticks of 
horse redish. He does not wish, however, that this 
grand work should be talked of till he is encouraged 
to begin the work ; in the meantime, his mind labours 
to be delivered of some mighty thing, and if by chance 


any friend of yours wants a colossal figure — man or 
beast — you ma}^ venture to recommend him, as he is 
ready to execute it in any material (gold and silver 
excepted) and of any height from 30 to 300 feet on the 
shortest notice. From these great things I cannot 
descend to speak of my own little pictures and 
drawings. My brother continues, I hear, pretty well, 
and I am very well. I beg my comp^ to Mr. Wilmot 
I am, with great sincerity, 

Your very affectionate parent, S. Gilpin. 

Mr. Gilpin to Mrs. Wilmot 


February 9, 1800. 

My dear Child, 

By this time I suppose you have returned to 
Farnborough, and I am quite sorry to say that indeed 
it will not be in my power to avail myself of your kind 
invitation thither, till April, when if the time be not 
inconvenient to you, and 1 should happen to be alive, 
I will fulfil a promise I long ago made to myself. 
I know you will place this refusal to its proper account, 
the ballance is against me as far as my will is con- 
cerned. I have not for a long time been able to do 
a stroke to my great picture, and into the Exhibition 
it must go ; I am now warm in the business, and 
should I cease to push it on, it will recoil upon me (for 
its uphill work) like the stone of the poor fellow in the 
shades, whose name I have forgotten. I am much 
flattered by your thinking it necessary to give 3'our 
reasons for not calling on me when in London ; they 
were free gifts, 1 do not feel myself entitled to them, 
nor to the kind expressions which accompanied them, 
but I value them highly, for they are impressed with 
the true filial stamp, and operate as the renewal of a 
grant under the seal of which my claim to my daughter 
is confirmed. I will now venture to tell you, freely 
and sincerely, that I feel the most ardent parental 
lonjrin/rs to see and converse with you, and that 1 
look forward to the middle of April with great 
pleasure. Old folks, you know, are covetous, and 1 
am a miser, my riches arc my children, and m^' heart 
is with them. 


I saw Hopner at Mr. Whitbread's; he told me his 
expedition to Farnborough had been a very pleasant 

I agree with you in thinking Mrs. Whitbread does 
not look well. 1 am glad she has gone out of town, 
the racket of London is not likely to mend her looks. 
Mr. Whitbread would have taken me back with them, 
but death intervened. 1 am apt to be idle at Southill, in 
the superlative I mean, for 1 am everywhere com- 
paratively so, but at Southill there is a stupendous 
mousetrap in the form of a Library, and when a poor 
nibbling mouse happens to shut himself up in it, how 
is it possible for him to escape ? 

Moreover, Mr. Whitbread rewards me for being 
idle. 1 fear he will quite spoil me by indulgence. 

Remember me kindly to Mr. Wilmot and my little 

God bless you, my dear child. 

Your very affectionate father, 

S. Gilpin. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wilmot separated after a very few 
years — my mother was born, and I think there was 
a boy who died an infant — and then they went their 
separate ways. 

I believe my mother passed a certain number of days 
with her father yearly as she got older, and I rather 
believe that there was a meeting between husband 
and wife before his death, but the subject was never 
talked of in my hearing, and the only allusion I ever 
heard my granny make to her younger days was to 
the effect that she had not been forgiving and for- 
bearing as experience had taught her a woman ought 
to be. 

She had apartments at Hampton Court, and gave 
herself up to the education of her daughter, to 
drawing, modelling, translating from the Italian, 
writing plays, etc., and became acquainted with all 

^ [This visit was presumably the occasion of his painting the 
portrait of Mrs. Wilmot's little daughter, aged four.] 



the artists, and most of the celebrities in literature 
of her day. 

I was rather interested to find in the " Memoirs 
de Madame la Duchesse de Gontaut " mention made 
of my grandmother and her sister. Madame de 
Gontaut (afterwards Gouvernante des Enfants de 
France, the children of the Due de Berri, son of 
Charles X., assassinated at the Opera in 1820) was for 
a good many years among the emigres who took 
refuge in England, and lived in the society of Lady 
Salisbury, Lady Maryborough, Lady Clarendon, Lady 
Charlotte Greville and the Duke of Wellington, all 
of whom I have heard my grandmother speak of as 
friends in early days. One of the open-air amuse- 
ments of the day was what Madame de Gontaut called 
masques, and at one of these Madame Wilmot was 
to appear as a fortune-teller, and to make some little 
"spirituel" address, but unfortunately a donkey 
happened to be in the near neighbourhood and up- 
lifted his voice so that the whole company burst 
out laughing, and Mrs. Wilmot was discomfited to 
such an extent that she could not speak a word. 
Madame Bouvraie, that is Mrs. Bouverie, afterwards 
Mrs. Talbot, was with her sister, and also Mr. 
Sheridan, whose second wife was an Ogle, a cousin 
of my grandmother. 

Charles Lord Grey, then Mr, Grey, who was also 
a cousin, lived on Ham Common. He became Lord 
Howick in 1801, and Earl Grey in 1806. He and his 
wife were very intimate with Mrs. Wilmot; Lord 
Grey always called her Cousin Barbary. 

Other friends and correspondents were William 
Lamb (afterwards Lord Melbourne), 1 lenry Brougham 
(afterwards Lord Brougham), Lord Glcnbervie, Mr. 
Serjeant Talfourd, Chantrey, Flaxman, Miss Catherine 


Fanshawe, Miss Mitford, Mr. T. J. Mathias, Mrs. 
Siddons, and the Kemblcs. 

In 1 82 1 Lady Dacre's poetical works were privately 
printed in two octavo volumes, under the title of 
" Dramas, Translations, and Occasional Poems." 
Some of these are dated in the last century : they 
include four dramas, the first of which, " Gonsalvo 
de Cordova," was written in 1810; in the character 
of the great captain, the author followed the novel 
of M. de Florian. The next, " Pedrarias," a tragic 
drama, was written in 181 1, its story being derived 
from " Les Incas" of Marmontel. Her third dramatic 
work was " Ina," a tragedy in five acts, the plot of 
which was laid in Saxon times in England. It was 
produced at Drury Lane on April 22, 1815, under the 
management of Sheridan, but it was not sufficiently 
successful to warrant its repetition. It was printed 
in 181 5 as produced on the stage; but in Lady Dacre's 
collected works, she restored the original catastrophe 
and some other parts which had been cut out. The 
fourth drama is entitled *' Xarifa." Lady Dacre's book 
contains also translations of several of the Sonnets 
of Petrarch ; some of these had been privately printed 
at an earlier date. In 1823, when Ugo Foscolo pro- 
duced his " Essays on Petrarch," he dedicated them to 
Lady Dacre, and the last forty-five pages of the work 
are occupied by her " Translations from Petrarch." 

Besides the dramas and the translations. Lady 
Dacre wrote several plays and comedies for amateur 
theatricals, which were given at Hatfield and the Hoo, 
and which were very successful. She also wrote 
several short pieces of poetry, some droll and witty, 
and some touching and lovely. As a letter-writer, 
Lady Dacre was often called by her friends a Scvigne. 
Her letters were reputed to be easy and natural, but 

20 LADY DACRE [1807 

no one can now judge as only a few of the many that 
were written to me have been preserved, and those 
in direct disobedience to her orders ! One of the 
things that made her letters delightful was that my 
grandmother wrote just what came uppermost, and 
thought nothing too small and trifling to be put down, 
so that her letter was a bit of herself. She became 
deaf rather early in life ; I do not remember her 
otherwise. This defect increased greatly, and cut her 
off from conversation, which was a great trial, the 
more especially as her conversational abilities had 
been exceptionally good, and her acquaintance with 
clever and agreeable people rendered the impossibility 
of intercourse a severe privation. 

She was an excellent horsewoman, and in those 
days good riding was not so common as it is now. 
She rode the hottest horse on a snaffle, and her hand 
was so good that she soon tempered the hardest puller 
and made him tractable. Lady Dacre was as good a 
French scholar as Italian, and well read in all the 
classic French writers. 

Having said so much, I think I must add a personal 
description. My grandmother said of herself, that she 
had none of the beauty of her sisters, but that her 
figure was good, and that her " crop " (the hair cut 
short as in those days) was also reckoned good, com- 
plexion pale, eyes good, and the whole effect, I should 
suppose, full of life and variety. My remembrance of 
her in comparatively early days would testify to this, 
though young people pay little heed to the appearance 
of their elders. Our granny was our granny, the 
fondest, most playful and indulgent of companions at 
first, and our closest friend afterwards. We knew, of 
course, that she was clever, and took it as a matter 
of course ; but I am afraid that living with clever 


people makes one rather inclined to think other folk 
stupid, and it is not till later in life that one puts up 
the first instead of putting down the last. Most 
certainly my estimation of my grandmother, and I 
may say of my mother, has grown with my growth 
and strengthened with my strength. 

One of Lady Dacre's early friends, Miss Catherine 
Fanshawe, was the authoress of the very clever 
" Riddle on the Letter H," which has often been 
ascribed to Lord Byron. I am not sure that many 
people do not to this day believe that he wrote it. 
I have a copy of the riddle, with the accompanying 
note by Lady Dacre : 

Found among my old hoards, February 3, 1846, 
Catherine Fanshawe s "Riddle on the Letter H," in 
her own handwriting, given to me forty years ago 
at least, and before Lord Byron was heard of. — 
B. Dacre. 

The Rev. William Harness, well known in his day 
and often mentioned in letters from Miss Mitford, 
made and had privately printed a collection of Miss 
Fanshawe's verses and etchings, of which he gave 
me a copy. The etchings (of figures) are quite 
charming. The verses, in addition to those which 
were printed in Miss Fanshawe's lifetime — viz. the 
•' Letter K," the " Death of the Minuet," and the 
" Riddle on the Letter H " — deserve to be better 
known. The "Speech of William Cobbett, Esq.," and 
the " Imitation of Wordsworth " are quite admirably 
good. The last is given in " Lyra Elegantiarum," 
edited by Locker Lampson. On May 17, 1809, Miss 
Catherine Fanshawe writes to Mrs. Wilmot : 

Not a word have I heard of the Sothebys since 
Maria left town, but when she went, the account of 


the poor dying sister threatened a long and painful 
stay at Bath. Have you seen a little Satire, in which 
he comes in for high praise, entitled " English Bards 
and Scotch Reviewers," written by Lord Byron, who 
whips himself in jest and his cousin. Lord Carlisle, 
in very good earnest. There are lines in it which 
appear to be very vigorous for so young a writer ; 
but he is much too severe on the delectable (is he 
not your delight as well as mine ?) Walter Scott. We 
passed an hour or two in his company — Walter Scott's, 
1 mean — the other night, and never saw a lion that 
answered better ; for he does not wrap himself up in 
his reputation and leave his wit at home for fear of 
wearing it out. So animated, so full of pleasant talk, 
and so entirely unaffected. 

The mention of Walter Scott is interesting; and 
when one considers that the author of " English Bards 
and Scotch Reviewers " was barely twenty when he 
wrote, one must indeed acknowledge that the lines 
are " vigorous." The attack on Lord Carlisle, and 
the note especially, are very severe ; and this Lord 
Byron felt and regretted, as he shows in the lines on 
"Young gallant Howard," in " Childc Harold," 
canto iii. stanza 29, " To whose sire I did some 

The mention of Sotheby is as follows : 

Yet still some genuine sons 'tis hers to boast 
Who least affecting still affect the most. 
Feel as they write, and write but as they feel, 
Bear witness Gifford, Sotheby, Macneil. 

Gifford wrote the "Baviad" and the "Moeviad"; 
Sotheby translated Wieland's " Oberon " and the 
Georgics : he also wrote " Saul." I wonder how 
many of the thousands who delight in Walter Scott's 
poems have ever even heard of the works of these 
other two ! Lord Byron himself, though he begins 
with "Lays of the Minstrels may they be the last," 

and goes on to laugh at the gobhn page, etc., ends 
by saying : 

But thou with powers that mocl< the aid of praise 
Should'st leave to humbler bards ignoble lays. 

The following French fable by Lady Dacre was 
written about this time. It seems to me such a happy 
imitation of La Fontaine's style that I add it : 

Le Champ et le Laboureur 

Fable — Ou " Conte a dormir debout " 

A ma fille 

Jadis quand pour se faire entendre 

Haranguer, plaider, se defendre, 

Point ne fallait ce qu'il nous faut, 

C'est a dire bouche, voix et le reste, 

Rude Champ en langue agreste 

Se prit a parler un peu haut 

A son maitre le laboureur, 

Montrant a decouvert son coeur. 

" Par pitie, cruel, laisse moi respirer, 

Mes forces s'epuisent a te plaire 

Enfin du loisir je desire tater. 

Helas ! aux champs meme la liberte est chere ! 

Quand I'an se meurt, qu'un triste repos 

Assoupit la nature oisive 

Que la coignee sur cette rive 

Seule reveille les I^chos. 

Tu me fends du soc cruel 

Mille fois de la tete aux pieds, 

Pour assouvir ton ame de fiel 

Encor n'en est-ce pas assez ; 

Sans relache tu me tourmentes 

Et sur ces plaies encor recentes 

Tu promenes griffes de fer : 

Helas! cette invention insigne 

Ne serait-elle pas, dis-moi, tres digne 

De Carthage ou de I'Enfer ? 

Puis lorsque la belle saison revit 

Et que reprenant courage 

Veux me remettre un^petit, 

Et pousser le tendre Epi, 

Tu reviens me faire rage 


En me passant par dessus le sein 

Gros rouleau d'enorme poids, 

Ou bien la houe a la main 

Tu m'arraches herbes et fleurs 

Qui ont pour moi mille douceurs 

Parce qu'elles sont enfans a moi. — 

Souffre enfin qua ma maniere 

Jouisse de la belle saison : 

^tendu tout de mon long 

Verras comme je saurai faire 

Pour ne pas perdre les rayons 

Que darderas Phebus sur mes sillons. — 

Sacres sillons ! Rides cheries ! 

De I'ancienne mere du genre humain 

Quoi toujours vos mains impies 

Lui dechireront le sein? 

Oui, j'atteste cette mere auguste 

Que plus sain et plus robuste 

En meme lieu me trouveras 

Lorsqu'en Automne reviendras." 

CcEur tendre avait mon laboureur, 

L'esprit tant soit peu obtus — 

" De ma cruaute j eus eu horreur," 

Dit-il, " Si je I'eusse connue ; 

A ton aise a droite, a gauche, 

£tends toi, champ mon ami, 

Ne crains soc, ni houe, ni fauche ; 

Me sauras gre de ma complaisance 

Et meme par reconnaissance 

Produiras tout seul r£pi ; 

Respecterai encore I'engeance 

De mauvaises herbes cherie, 

C'est aussi pour la tendre enfance 

De mes marmots que j'aime la vie ! " 

Le manant I'automne venu 

Retrouve fidele a sa parole 

Le champ oisif au grand soleil 

En long et en large etendu 

Qui se rechauffe ainsi le sol — 

L'ivraie, I'ortie, le cerfeuil 

Y etalent leur vain orgueuil 

Rclev6 du pavot vermeil. 

Mais pour moisson — point d'affaire — 

Enfin lorsqu'il pose le pied 

Au patrimoinc de ses ancetres 


D'herbcs sauvages devcnu repaire, 

Roncc rampante des plus traitres 

Par la jambe tout court I'arrete — 

De buissons phalange rangee 

Se herisse — en defend I'entree, 

Et la cigiie lui fait fete 

De son souffle empoisonne, 

Tandis que de chardons piquans, 

Troupes legeres, I'attaquent en flanc 

Et tachent de I'envelopper. 

Le pauvrc diable d'echapper 

Et reconnaissant son erreur 

De s'ecrier fondant en pleurs, 

" Ah ! c'est au printems de I'an, belle enfance, 

Qu'il eut fallu dompter le terroir indocile, 

Y Jeter de ma main la prccieuse semence 

Dont le fruit aux humanis est si doux, si utile." 

Du discours du bon manant 

Passe pour le reste — car deja 

Tu sens on vise tout cela. — 

Sachons en profiter pourtant. 

Mr. Thomas Sheridan, writer of the next letter, was 
the eldest son of Richard Brinsley Sheridan, and the 
father of Lady Dufferin, Mrs. Norton, and the Duchess 
of Somerset. Lord Dufferin gives a sketch of his 
life in the " Memoirs of Lady Dufferin." The verses 
spoken of in the letter on the loss of the Saldanha 
are also to be found there. The ** Charles " mentioned 
must be a half-brother of Mr. Sheridan, son of 
R. B. Sheridan's second wife, Hester Ogle, a cousin 
of my grandmother's, lie did not share the beauty 
and talents which so distinguished his half-brothers 
and sisters. 

Thomas Sheridan to Mrs. Wilinot 

Itchen Ferry, 
(?) 1812 or 1813. 
My dear Lady, 

For a wonder I am undeserving of the reproof 
you have bestowed upon me — I am innocent of 


Sheridanism on the present occasion, 'pon honour, 
and why ? Simply because no letter of any kind 
from you has made its appearance in these my 
territories since I took possession. That you should 
think I would have neglected it, or treated slightly 
any observations it contained, has excited my wrath 
vehemently. I would give a great deal that you could 
be convinced I do not say such things as a matter of 
course, and that when I have professed an admiration 
of the superiority of your talents, I meant exactly 
neither more nor less than what I said. 

I feel very much flattered by the tone in which you 
speak of the verses. I have now formed my own 
opinion of them, and I do not so much regret the 
postponement of your criticisms, as it affords me an 
opportunity of making my own to you beforehand. 
P^irst, then, the term given to the words of " Rule 
Britannia" is a perversion of the text: nobody ever 
meant to imply by them that she governed the 
elements ! I know what I meant ; to wit, that we 
too often and too thoughtlessly adopted the sentiment 
it contains to the exclusion of all humility of thought 
or reliance upon Providence, or, if you don't like that 
mode of stating it, without sufficient reference to 
those points which a wise man ought to take into 
consideration, since neither human strength, courage, 
or knowledge can be opposed to them successfully : 
an absence of prudence, which (poetry apart) it is 
to be hoped the Navy may never be free from. 
Secondly, the verses have no particular reference 
to the Saldaiiha except the name ; and, thirdly, the 
absence of any sentiment of regret, or motive for 
consolation from beginning to end, is ungracious, and 
leaves it almost in doubt whether the poet did not 
mean to infer that they met with little less than their 
desert, and I have accordingly christened the poem, 
if it can be called one, "God's Judgment against Sailing." 

What is left, is some spirit in the writing, and an 
air of novelty which catches the attention but cannot 
justify its defects. I cannot answer what you say 
about the words "best" and |'neath." The first, I 
confess, I do not see any objection to, the second 
fell in with the metre ; I had said " mid " before, and 
I recollected none preferable, but 1 shall hear what 
you say. As to the " flashing light," instead of "their," 


I suppose it is better, as Car agrees with you. I wrote 
" their " as directly referring to the " storm lights " in 
the preceding stanza ; the " flashing light " somehow 
brings a lantern too precisely to my imagination, and 
the plural filled the picture I had in my mind more 
completely ; but this, a perverse association probably, 
which may not strike others, and if you think the 
alteration better, so be it — or indeed any other. I 
never studied to correct them, fearing that what they 
might gain in correctness they would lose in spirit. 

As to showing them or giving them to any one, if 
you honestly and truly think they will do me any credit, 
I should rather wish it, for though I have less con- 
fidence in myself than you may be inclined to believe, 
I am mightily tickled by any little gratification to my 
vanity of this sort. How I do like to talk and write 
about myself! Here arc four sides of paper about 
nothing else, and I dare say all I have said might have 
been contained in two lines — I am grown horribly 
prosy ! 

I am ill in health and spirits, and as thin as a 
Highland crop of oats. This alienation of theatrical 
property has bereft me of the only materials 1 had left 
for castle-building, and I have no object left to turn 
my thoughts to ; but I have put on my smoaked 
spectacles to look on this eclipse of my hopes in one 
quarter, and they make the prospect appear gloomy 

Mother and Charles are here ; there is no saying 
how charming he is nor how he improves every hour. 
Anne is not in spirits, but everybody is well and the 
spring coming, and with it I doubt not my constitutional 

T. Sheridan. 

Mrs. Wilmot seems to have made some remarks on 
the verses, which called forth the following rejoinder : 

Thomas Sheridan to Mrs. Wilmot 

Beach House, 
February 26. 

My DEAR Lady, 

What shuffling excuses an idler makes to him- 
self! I had lost your letter, or rather forgotten where 
I put it (do not think me careless about letters, for I 


am not), and, though I knew eveiy word it contained, 
it was a settled point with me that it could not be 
answered until found. A wet day and a thunder- 
storm suggested a search, and an unfrequented pocket 
of my shooting-jacket, which has as many compart- 
ments and corners as the palace you live in, pro- 
duced the document this morning, and down 1 sit 
forthwith to reply. Anne swears she never received 
any letter for me from you, and that you must have 
been " how comed you so " when you wrote. 

I rather think all your suggestions are improve- 
ments ; so be it. You only ask for two " bes " and a 
"the," and I should be very unreasonable to refuse 
them; but then remember you take my"ful." Hest 
is as legitimate a word as behest, and ** dread " is a 
poetical adjective clip'd for convenience, and never 
used in everyday prose, though now and then admitted. 
I only say this for wrangling sake, and to show that I 
agree with you (which I do most heartily) that our 
good, stout, hard, ugly words should stand in all their 
dimensions. In truth, I am indifferent about this and 
every other word in the poem save one, and I would 
give you a month to guess which. " Scar," and I'll 
tell you why ! I have always remarked that vigour 
and novelty are instilled into a passage by the new 
and unexpected application of a word beyond all other 
means, and though I do not think this is a very good 
instance, and very probably by no means an unusual 
usage of the word, yet it struck my fancy as such. 
To give an instance of what I mean, Dryden in 
*' Theodore and Honoria " : " The fiend came thunder- 
ing on"; and "then on the crowd he cast a furious 
look, which imthcred all their strength before he spoke." 
1 know not if you feel this as I do, but that one word 
gives a more complete picture to my mind of all that 
is passing than all the epithets, metaphors, or similes 
that could have been assembled, and so after "they 
need not to be warned a second time," but " bore each 
other back." Pope would have taken twenty lines to 
have represented this. 

I suppose my remark is very commonplace, but it 
is to myself my own, and the anxiety generally evinced 
by poets to seek for " appropriate and beautiful epithets " 
rather than bold and unusual a]:)plication of the word 
(the heart-pulse of a sentence), shows at least that if it 


be a rule it is not much attended to. As to the lines 
in question, do not think it affectation in me to say 
that I am tired of thinking or writing about them ; 
they may be good in their way, but their faults are 
vital. As to my Father, he has seen them, and says he 
likes them ; but 1 trust him not. I have often given 
him things which I have wTitten, which 1 liked very 
much better, and he would never return them to me, 
and always said they were lost, and from idleness (not 
want of vanity be assured), I never kept a copy of 

Sir T. Sutton I know very well, but I had no notion 
he was a critic, or ever thought of such matters, and, 
to say truth, you present him to me in quite a new 

1 am well satisfied that I should like your second 
play better if 1 read it myself. If you recollect I said 
as much, but though I give due credit to Sukey and 
Sir Thomas for their probably correct taste and 
judgment as to sentiment and poetry, I should not 
mind a great deal what their opinion was as to the 
dramatic construction which, I regret to repeat, 
ucnvadays has more consequence attached to it than 
to either of the former— of course I mean in case of 
representation. 1 should like to have it to myself for 
some days, for I am not quick in these matters, though 
1 ought to be, and a tragedy requires ten times more 
consideration than any other composition for the 
stage. My impressions respecting it remain un- 
altered, but I do not profess to be able to form any 
decided opinion. You read it very ill, that's the truth ; 
nevertheless you read it much better than plays are 
read in general, and though that might weaken the 
effect, still I cannot believe it so good as the other ; 
but we shall settle this point hereafter. 

I am better in health, and I expect to flap my wings 
again in spite of wind and weather. If all goes well, 
as \Vhitbread expects,' I am told 1 shall receive 
;^ 1 2,000, if otherwise I must take what I can get, but 
no income, nor is anything fixed or certain except 
that the property is gone for ever. 

I am mad about politics. The Catholic Question 
will be carried by those who were heretofore its 

' [Drury Lane Theatre was burned down, and rebuilt by Mr. 
Whitbread 1812. See " Rejected Addresses."] 


MISS OGLE [1818 

opponents. This difficulty smoothed, a jumble of an 
Administration will be found, in which the Prince's 
friends will take a share very probably, I think (and 
that is a saving clause for me) ; but the Opposition 
have acted like a pack of noodles, and got into hot 
water when they need not, as indeed they always 
have done. Caroline and brats are well. 

T. Sheridan. 

" Sukey " must be Miss Sukey Ogle, sister of Mrs. 
Sheridan, and therefore a cousin of my grandmother's. 
I have heard Mrs. Wilmot speak of her as clever, and 
even more odd than other Ogles, a family always 
remarkable for their individuality. Miss Ogle is 
mentioned in Lord John Russell's " Life of Thomas 
Moore." Moore says, in his Diary, that Lady C. 
Fitzgerald asked Miss Ogle to come in the evening, 
and that he had much talk with her about her brother- 
in-law. Her account of Sheridan is worth reading. 
Moore was then busy with his " Life of Sheridan," 
April 1819. 

The following letter refers to Mrs. Wilmot's plays. 

Miss Joanna Baillic to Mrs. Wihnot 
(with a parcel to lie till called for) 


At/ idlest 26, 1S18. 

1 am much gratified, my dear friend, that anything I 
have said of your plays has given you pleasure. You 
do me justice in believing I have said nothing of them 
which 1 do not think they truly deserve. I return them 
to you, having read " Xarifa " again this morning, 
and besides the merit of the writing, it seems to me 
well fitted for representation, even in a large theatre 
where little is seen or heard distinctly, because the 
story could almost be told by action alone, and there 
is occasion for a great deal of spectacle. However, 1 
dare not counsel you to venture what in your case I 
durst not venture myself. In reading it to-day 1 have 
marked with a pencil some passages which I have 


particularly admired, and a few lines and expressions 
that have not ])leased me. 

I shall be glad of your remarks on the altered play of 
" Ethwald"^; and though I do not agree with your stric- 
tures at first, and may even grumble a little at your 
being too difficult, yet I may do so afterwards ; for we 
are often fain to follow advice which has not at first 
been graciously received or appeared very reasonable. 
This is a frailty of nature which 1 do not disown. 

As to Miss Ogle's request for Mr. Percevalle, I am 
much fiattered by it, and should be glad to send him a 
song or two, if I had any that have not already been 
set to music. However, if I had any songs to send 
him, I should have objected to their being dedicated 
to me, as a circumstance likely to be of disservice to 
his musical compositions, as 1 know nothing of music. 
Besides, there is another reason why 1 should not 
advise any young composer to begin by publishing 
music for my songs ; viz. that no music composed for 
any of my songs has ever yet been popular, and I fear 
there is a spell upon it. Mrs. Mulso and I have 
seldom met lately, having unfortunately missed one 
another, and I heard yesterday that she is to set ofi" 
to-day for Worthing. The whole population of 
London and its environs is gone to the seaside. I 
wonder how people preserve health and live to a 
reasonable old age in inland countries on the 
Continent, where there is no sea to go to. But 
people must do something when they are not well, 
or tired of home, and moving about to the sea or 
anywhere is better than taking drugs or becoming 
cross and unhappy. I shall be truly glad if she find 
real benefit from the sea air or bath, but 1 fear this 
will scarcely be the case — she suffers much and often 
looks very sad. 

You are going from home again I presume, and I 
wish you and Miss Wilmot much enjoyment wher- 
ever you are. With kind regard, 

Yours most truly, 

J. Baillie. 

P.S. — I send this to-day, because I shall have an 

' [" Ethwald" is one of Miss Uaillie's plays on the Passions, 
Ambition being the one portrayed in this play.] 


opportunity of sending my parcel to Grosvenor Street 
to-morrow. I send you enclosed two of my songs, 
both published — for I have no MS. songs. 

Joanna Baillie often mentions Mrs. Mulso. She 
must have been a relation of my grandmother's, whom 
I can remember speaking of Hecky Mulso. Sir 
Chaloner Ogle married Miss Hester Thomas, daughter 
of Dr. Thomas, who was successively Bishop of Peter- 
borough, Salisbury, and Winchester. His father, 
Colonel Thomas, known as " Handsome Thomas," 
had a beautiful daughter, who married Thomas Mulso. ^ 
Mrs. Mulso would have been a great-aunt of my 
grandmother ; Mrs. Chapone, whose name was Hester 
(as was also Lady Ogle's), was a daughter of hers. 

I do not know at what time my granny made 
acquaintance with Mr. Brand. He was a great friend 
of Lord Grey's and a very eager Liberal, fresh from 
Germany where he had been educated, and full of 
German theories : he was at that time called " Fire 
Brand." His father had left heavy debts of honour, 
which his son paid to the last farthing before he 
allowed himself to live at the Hoo, or to think of 

Mrs. Wilmot and Lord Dacre were married on 
December 4, 1819. 

' Dr. Thomas, Bishop of Peterborough, married Susanna Mulso, 
and his beautiful sister was the wife of Thomas Mulso and mother of 
Hester, Mrs. Chapone, and of the Rev. John Mulso, the friend of 
Gilbert White. 

It was for John Mulso's eldest daughter, Jane, that Mrs. Chapone 
wrote the "Letters on the Improvement of the Mind addressed to a 
Lady" ; and to his youngest daughter, Hester, Gilbert White addressed 
the " Letter from Timothy tlie Tortoise." Both Mrs. Chapone and 
her niece appear to have been called " Hecky." The younger was 
Lady Dacre's second cousin, and was ]irobably the "Hecky" 
mentioned. Mrs. Mulso, of whom Miss r>aillic writes, must have 
been the wife of the Kcv. John Mulso, jun. 


Thomas Brand succeeded his mother as twentieth 
Baron Dacre in 1819, and two months after he married 
Mrs. Wilmot. He began his life at sea, and took ten 
pounds in prize money before the age of fourteen, 
when he relinquished his naval career and went 
abroad : first to Utrecht, and then to Mr. Forster's 
at Mayence for a year, to Heidelberg, then to Italy 
and Zurich, and returned to England on his father's 
death. Later he went back to Zurich for a short 
time, and finally settled in England at the age of 
twenty-two, studying law at Lincoln's Inn, and living 
on ;^300 a year until he had paid his father's debts 
of honour. While at the Bar he walked down every 
Saturday to the Hoo to spend his Sunday with his 
mother, returning to London on Monday. This was 
undertaken partly for the healthy exercise, but also 
for the sake of economy. 

These notes were made by me one evening after 
Lord Dacre had been telling me of his younger 
days: they are fairly accurate, as they were put down 
at once. 

When he was at Mayence, Custine, finding he 
intended going to Italy, made him a general passport, 
of which he after some time availed himself; and 
having put the family of Mr. Forster in a place of 
safety (Mr. Forster himself remaining and becoming 
afterwards one of the chief representatives at Paris), 
he stayed at Heidelberg. 

While there he was told that Wurmser wanted to 
communicate with him, and he was desired to walk 
at a certain hour in a certain street. After waiting 
some time he was joined by some of Wurmser's 
people, one of whom, pointing carelessly to a woman 
looking out of a window said, " Voila une jolie fcmme — 
la connaissez vous?" In those days, to use his own 


34 AT MAYENCE IN 1793 [1819 

expression, people were pretty much on their hind 
legs and all alive, so in an equally indifferent manner 
he acknowledged her beauty and appeared not to 
know her. This was Custine's mistress, then in 
Heidelberg as a spy, and this method had been 
resorted to in hopes of fixing her identity by Mr. 
Brand's recognition of her, as they knew he must 
have seen her often at Mayence. 

I will add a few more particulars respecting Mr. 
Brand and his German life, and also a letter which 
he wrote to me on the subject many years after, 
before giving the remainder of that evening's notes. 

Loj'd Dacrc to the Hon. Mrs. F. Grey 

The Hog, 

No7>eviber 24, 1848. 

Dearest dear Barby, 

Your granny having asked me whether the 
Forster and Huber of whom you are reading in 
Schiller's letters refer to those with whom I have 
lived and read at Mayence, I catch the opportunity 
of answering, "Yes, to be sure," to append to the 
answer a few lines to you, my dearest, and a word 
or two as to the individuals of whom you enquire. 
They were one and all hereditarily — not dignitarily — 
of European name, and vast talent in their several 
courses. Mrs. Huber was Forster's wife, nee Heyne. 
Her father was the celebrated Heyne, the greatest 
scholar in Europe, and edited the most correct Homer 
as well as the most classical Virgil. Her husband, 
Forster, went round the world with Cook.' He was 

' [John Reinhold Forster was appointed naturalist for Capt. Cook's 
second voyage in the Rcsoiii/ion, 1772-4. His son accompanied 
him as assistant. On their return Cook and Forster were to have 
written a joint account of the voyage, but the latter appears to 
have raised many difficulties, and they were unable to agree as to 
method and details. Lord Sandwich (on the Board of Admiralty), 
in whose hands the matter was left for settlement, forbade Forster 
to write, but he juiblished an account of the voyage under his 
son's name, and succeeded in forestalling Cook's pul)li( alion^ — which 
was edited by the Rev. John Douglas, Canon of Windsor — by 
some weeks.] 

i8i9] AT MAYENCE IN 1793 35 

a great naturalist, wrote an account of Cook's travelsi 
and upon his return home had the misfortune to excite 
the jealousy of Sir Joseph Banks, whose envy was 
implacable. He was thus driven from England, settled 
in Germany, where he was courted by all the literati, 
and became librarian to the Elector of Mayence, where 
he established himself, and became the centre of the 
bookmaking and literary society of Northern Germany. 
In Forster's house lluber lived, as I did, as an inmate, 
constituting part of his domestic establishment. He 
was a diplomatist, at the head of the mission from 
Dresden to Mayence. His position, as well as his 
early connection with Schiller and Goethe — who with 
him were joint contributors to the " Thalia " and 
" Musenalmanach " — gathered many eminent people 
round him, i.e. at Forster's. 

Soemering, the greatest anatomist at that time in 
Europe, never failed to be of their meetings. In 
fact, he was not only an anatomist, but one of the 
very cleverest men I ever met. He also contributed 
to their joint productions, and Mrs. Forster's con- 
tributions were second to none. Thus we lived till 
the French captured Mayence ; ^ they scattered us in 
all directions. Forster went as representative of the 
Rhenish Provinces to the French Convention ; there 
his heart was broken by the horrors of a revolution 
from which he had augured the pure perfectability of 
man : he despaired and shot himself! He wrote to me 
the evening before the rash act and fatal crime, I grieve 
that I have not preserved that letter, but I destroyed 
it at the same time as hundreds that I had from Mrs. 
Forster. They were beautiful. You have already 
concluded that Mrs. Forster married Huber. She did 
so, and, upon Hubcr's death, she wrote a biography 
of him. It contains many of his letters which bear 
upon his intercourse with the clique. By the bye, I 
will send it you. In it you will find marked a touch 
upon your humble servant in the days of his wildest 
purest state. I rather think I was then a Communist. 

God bless you, my beloved Barby, 

Saturday 25///. — I do not send you Mrs. Huber s 
book. In a long evening I ran my eye over it again, 
and I find it minute and twaddling. 

Poor Melbourne ! I have a letter from Beauvale 

' [In 1793] 


which pinches my heartstrings. He was the comrade 
of our joyous manly days, and I lament my own 
absence from him in late years. His entourage — 
social, moral, and political, repelled me, and I did 
not feel confident that his apparent alienation of 
manner was attributable to his own state of mind, 
and that alone.^ 

Song made by the German Students 

Er war ein Biirsche gar zu lieb, 

Dem folgten alle Herzen, 
Mit Madchen manche Spass er trieb 

Mit Biirschen manche Scherzen, 

Er war kein bischen stoltz, der Mann 
Obgleich vom Stoltzen Lande, 

Dann leeret Becher, Glas und Kann 
Es lebe Thomas Brande ! 

What follows was as nearly as might be in his own 
words : 

I had not been long in England, a week after my 
father's death, when I received intimation of a great 
meeting in Cambridgeshire, '^occasioned by the pro- 
posed suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act. I had 
then more property in Cambridgeshire, and I resolved 
at once to go down, so I jumped into the stage one 
night and set off. There was only one man in it 
beside myself, and we fell into conversation. Finding 
he too was going to Cambridge, I asked him what 
would be the result of the meeting. " Why, if we 
could get young Brand to come down, we might make 

a good fight," he said, " but he's such a d d odd 

fellow nobody can do anytliing with him. He will go 
his own way, but we know his opinions, and if he 
was there we should do." I did not say who I was, 
and we went on talking. When 1 arrived at Cam- 
bridge, at the Whig Inn 1 found old Nash — old Nash 
of all — and he knew me, though he hadn't seen me 
since I was a boy, and such a scene of recognition 
as followed! At the meeting. Lord Ilardwicke, a 

' I Lord Melbourne died in 18.48.] 


thorough Pittite, opposed me, and they said I was 
beat, so I called for a division : they said it was 
impossible in such a crowd — 

" The devil it is," I said, and, jumping over the rail, 
I forced my way through and cried out, " Those who 
are for me, go to the right, and those against me to 
the left." By physical energy I accomplished my 
object, and found my majority was immense. Ah ! 
then I was a man ; now I am nothing but an old 
woman ! 

I have always regretted that I did not write down at 
the time the many interesting things that I heard from 
Lord Dacre, either during the long rides together 
that we had over his farms, or in the evenings in 
Chesterfield Street. One of the things that remains 
upon my mind is his telling me that, when he first 
came to live at the Hoo, he determined to work 
through one harvest with the men on the home farm 
— and that he actually did it — holding his own, though 
the men, of course, worked with a will, until it came 
to what is called " pitching," i.e. throwing the hay or 
corn on to the cart or stack. There he said he was 
beat, the exertion and the knack required being 
beyond his amateur powers. 

Character of the Hon. T. Brand 

(I do not know by whom : the handwriting is my 
mother's and is evidently a copy). 

Mr. Brand is the very opposite of this (alluding to 
Mr. Creevy); he is all gentleness and courtesy. He 
is a gentleman, with all the mildness and some of the 
reserve of the old school, and has the look of a man 
of the best fashion. 1 speak not of the beaux who 
waltz so divinely, though for aught I know Mr. Brand 
may waltz as well as any of them ; I mean that his 
appearance expresses a consciousness of rank without 
insolence, a consciousness of pleasing because he 

38 LORD DACRE [1819 

knows he has the means of pleasing, and lastly, that 
benevolence which politeness can so well affect, but 
which seems to be a real ingredient of Mr. Brand's 
disposition and character. With all this he is so 
unaffectedly modest and unassuming, while at the 
same time he evidently has all that well-founded self- 
respect which would repel an insult, that it is not easy 
to conceive a more prepossessing speaker, or one by 
whom the disengaged would more easily suffer them- 
selves to be convinced. He possesses a very good 
understanding, which has been disciplined by a legal 
education ; he discovers a good deal of the logical 
closeness of argument and some of the learning of 
his profession. Fortunately, however, he is above 
the necessity of chaining himself down to a technical 
study to the exclusion of more useful duties, and still 
more fortunately for his character, he shows as much 
industry and perseverance to his objects as the merest 
adventurer in law or politics. 

Though a young man who may therefore reasonably 
be supposed to have many more interesting pursuits, 
he is constantly on the spot, and is ever ready to open 
the door of Parliament to all who apply to him for 
advice or assistance. There is no man, next to 
Mr. Whitbread, in whose hands the petitions of the 
poor or the injured can be deposited with more 
advantage. He will exert all his abilities to advocate 
their claims or their prayers, and none is likely to 
be heard with more success; for the House here, as 
always, pays the utmost deference to unimpeachable 
honesty and unaffected benevolence. Let this slight 
attempt to delineate a highly honourable character 
pass a tribute of respect to one, who, in his degree, 
does not yield in consideration to any member of 
either House, and who, though not gifted with eminent 
or commanding talents, possesses a power and use- 
fulness which one would look for in vain among the 
expectants of Opposition or the minions of Ad- 

Miss Baillie's letter, of August 15, refers to the 
funeral of Queen Caroline, and some particulars are 
added from what 1 was told by Mr. Edward 


Miss Joanna Baillie to Lady Dacrc 

Aui^ust 15, 1 82 1. 

My dear Lady Dacre, 

It is always pleasant to receive a letter from 
you, and particularly so when it begins with that 
happy overllowing of the heart on the subject of your 
daughter which assures me that the choice she has 
made of a husband is sure not to be repented of, and 
wiser far than worldly wisdom. Long may you be 
happy in seeing them so, and to hear of it will always 
give me sincere pleasure. 

I did some time ago, as I intended, read all your 
plays, in their printed state, over again, giving a quiet 
evening to each, and still preserve my predilection for 
" Pedrarias," the chief characters of which seem more 
exalted, tender, and interesting than when I read it 
in MS. Xarifa's character is very affectionate and 
elevated, and the story so interesting that I think it 
would perhaps produce more effect on the stage than 
any of the others. It reads much better printed than 
it did in MS., and the similes and images that are 
scattered through the plays, many of which are very 
beautiful and elegant, gain greatly from not being 
read in the handwriting of the author. I mean not 
to say much against this same handwriting, because 
the sight of it has always cheered me, yet certes I 
must be allowed to say it has sometimes caused me 
no small perplexity— in this very last letter there are 
two words which I should hugely like to know, yet 
they are as much sealed up from my comprehension 
as if they were Greek. 

I think you don't take up what I intended to 
say of your imitations of Burns. I would by no means 
have left them out of the book. It is only in the 
language of Scotch that I find any fault, they are 
good imitations otherwise, and that addressed to 
Young on *'Tam' O'Shanter" has been much liked 
by all my friends who have seen it. 

We have had a dismal wedding at Mrs. Carr's, which 
I trust will nevertheless prove a happy one.^ The 
bride is gone to attend the poor Queen's funeral, v/ith 

' [This was the marriage of Dr. Lushington to Miss Carr. Dr. 
Lushington was the Queen's lawyer, and ,tlie father of Mr. Edward 


all her bridal bravery laid aside for sable weeds. We 
yesterday had sad accounts of riots in town to make 
the funeral procession go by Temple Bar, in which 
several lives were lost, from the Guards being obliged 
to fire on the crowd, and we are very anxious this 
morning to hear further particulars. What an event- 
ful period it has been smce last year at this time, 
when Lord Dacre first presented Her Majesty's peti- 
tion to the House of Peers, and we are yet in the 
midst of uncommon occurrences. Who may conjec- 
ture what the years to come may produce ? I hope, 
however. Whig as I am, that the mob will not get 
head, and that we shall have peace at home and 
abroad ; as much peace as may be consistent with 
the emancipation of the poor Greeks, for I have a 
great hankering after that cause, and would commit 
some imprudence to further it. . . . 
Always truly and affectionately, my dear Lady Dacre, 


Joanna Baillie. 

[October 1898. — I had been showing Miss Joanna 
Baillie's letter of August 15, 1821 (saying that Mrs. 
Lushington had to change her bridal dress to attend 
Queen Caroline's funeral) to Miss Ewart, and in the 
afternoon we went to see our neighbour, Mr. Edward 
Lushington, whom we found all alone having his 
solitary cup of five-o'clock tea. We naturally talked 
of the letter. He remembered Miss Baillie and the 
Hampstead circle very well, and told us that his 
parents went with the coffin to Brunswick by way 
of Harwich. There, an emissary of George IV. ap- 
peared, and forced off the coffin a silver plate which 
Queen Caroline had had prepared and engraved, 
leaving the date blank (which was added in different 
characters). Her inscription was as follows, as nearly 
as I remember : 


Caroline of Brunswick 

The Injured Queen of England 


What became of this plate at the moment does not 
seem to be known. Mr. Lushington asked his father 
once, but his answer was that he dichi't know; perhaps 
Wilde (Lord Truro) might have it. Years after, the 
widow of a butler of Dr. Lushington's sent to his 
sister-in-law, Miss Carr, to say she had something 
she wished to say to her before she died. 

Miss Carr went to see her, and the old lady drew 
out from under her pillow this large silver plate, 
(about 18 inches by 10 inches — coffin shaped) and gave 
it to her for Dr. Lushington. Mow she had come 
by it I did not ascertain, and I do not know if it 
is known. Dr. Lushington told his son Edward the 
story when he was ill, sent for the plate and said : 
" I think you may as well take it away with you, 
my boy," which Mr. Edward Lushington did; and 
he sent for it then and there to show us. B. C. G.] 

Miss Baillie's letter of January 7, 1822, refers to 
Mr. Charles Sheridan : I cannot make out who is the 
aunt spoken of, but a sister of his mother I imagine, 
and therefore an Ogle. The book mentioned is pro- 
bably a collection of poems which Miss Baillie was 
publishing in behalf of a friend. In this volume are 
no less than seven short pieces of poetry on the 
Greeks by Charles Sheridan, and one by Lady Dacre : 
" Away, Proud Boy." 

Miss Joanna Baillie to Lady Dacre 

January 7, 1822. 

. . I was too much hurried when I wrote last, to 
mention anything of my visit in Portugal Street the 
Monday before Christmas, when I found Mr. Sheridan 
with a white handkerchief knotted fancifully round his 
head, looking somewhat between an outrcc woman 
and a French cook, unable to stir from his great chair, 
and his aunt stepping so lightly over the floor, wnth 
her face so like what it was before, that I should 


never have guessed she had been ill at all. I observed 
a slight degree of tardiness in her articulation, but I 
don't think I should have done so had I not known 
of her illness. 

Sheridan has now withdrawn nearly all his love 
matters from my book, which is to be a vehicle for 
bringing his Greek patriotism somewhat before the 
public. I wish it may do the cause any good. What 
belongs to this has long been a very interesting part 
of my sister's newspaper reading, which I listen to 
after dinner, with my feet upon the fender, and they 
(I mean the Greeks) seem to be prospering without, 
or rather before, our existence. What may we not 
expect them to do afterwards? 

I shall go to town probably next week to arrange 
the names of our subscribers with the help of Mrs. 
Baillie, who has a clear head, a ready pen, and a 
willing mind for the business. A very tiresome 
business it will be, but I must not complain of it, 
having been so liberally and kindly assisted in every 
way. The subscription at Coutts' is closed, and the 
sum total ;!^2,430. This 1 know you will be pleased to 
hear. Let me have a letter with your orders soon, 
and I will do my best to prove myself your ladyship's 
affectionate and willing servant to command, 

J. Baillie. 

Miss Joanna Baillie to Lady Dacre 

January 27, 1822. 

Indeed, my dear Lady Dacre, you have sketched 
out for me a varied and powerful subject, and were 
it a story that had as yet been produced for the world 
merely as a story, that is as stories are generally told, 
I don't know that I could do better than follow your 
ladyship's advice ; but it has been given to the world 
full of minutely delineated character and dialogue, so 
that what should I have to do but to set down my feet 
in the very footmarks of a greater writer than myself, 
and one who is in the fullest possession of ]Hiblic ad- 
miration? I should, in some degree, be doin^- what I 
blamed Sothcby for when he wrote his poem ol "Saul." 
"If you make your hero speak as he does in the Book of 
Samuel, they give you no tlianks, and think you have 


done nothing, and if you make him speak differently, 
they think you have done wrong." The bare bones of 
a good story, to clothe in flesh and blood, is that which 
is best suited for a dramatist, and were " The Bride of 
Lammermoor" resting on the Public in that state, I 
believe I should be tempted to set about it forthwith, 
were I now at liberty to set about anything of the 
kind. What hinders you? is your question in my 
mind's ear; and in reply I will lay before you the 
scheme which I am just going to set about, which I 
do the more willingly as I hope for your countenance 
and assistance in furthering my labours. There is a 
friend and old schoolfellow of mine, who, after having 
been brought up in affluence and living in that state 
till within a few years of the present time, finds her- 
self reduced to absolute poverty, a small yearly pittance 
excepted, which some of her friends have said they will 
allow her as long as they can afford to do so. She 
has four single daughters grown up, who, after having 
been brought up delicately, are now preparing to find 
situations in the world to do for themselves. In this 
state of things, as she is an estimable woman who has 
borne misfortune with great fortitude, and is liked and 
respected both in Scotland (for she is a Scotchwoman) 
and here, I have offered to edit for her advantage a 
collection of poems in one volume, to be published by 
subscription. I wish the collection to be composed 
chiefly of MSS., or such pieces as have only been 
printed privately, and I am anxious that it should be 
in itself a creditable book, that I may not be accused 
of altogether picking people's pockets for the benefit 
of my friend. Ah ! little did 1 think that she would 
ever stand in need of any such a service from me ! 
For well I remember, when I was a schoolgirl in 
Glasgow, her father's house was the finest town house 
I had ever been in ; and I looked at the livery servants 
and the set-out dinner, wnth all its jellies and whirli- 
gigs, and the dressed ladies playing at cards, etc., and 
scarcely knew how to behave myself. Will you then, 
my dear Lady Dacre, help me out ? either with some 
MS. poetry, or give me permission to take from your 
privately-printed volumes what may best suit my 
purpose. There are some favourite things of mine 
there, which I should like mightily to insert in this 
same book. I shall take it as a great favour to be 


allowed to insert them, any way, but doubly so if you 
will let me insert them with your name. 

I went the other night with a party of friends 
to see the '* Gentlemen of Verona," and sat in a side box 
in the dress circle, about half-way between the stage 
and front boxes, where myself and the whole party 
heard so ill that it might as well have been written 
by Dibden as Shakespear for anything we could say 
to the contrary. There were in it some beautiful 
scenes of pageantry which I enjoyed much : a Mother 
Bunch, coming after all, sent us home in very good 
humour. I am well pleased to find that I can be as 
well amused now with broad farce or pantomime as 
I ever was in my youngest days. It is good to follow 
Voltaire's saying : "When one can't get what one likes, 
one likes what one can get." It is wise in me at least 
to follow this rule, for I have little chance of being 
pleased in any other way as to theatrical matters. 
We had an agreeable visit from Miss Edgeworth not 
long ago, who stayed a week with us, and two of 
her younger sisters with her, I don't know if you 
are much acquainted with her. She is a merry, kindly 
inmate, and her affection for her half-sisters amounts 
to that of the fondest mother. But you will not allow 
this to be possible, so I don't absolutely assert it to 
be so. 

Yours, my dear Lady Dacre, with affectionate regard, 

J. Baillie. 

I have lately acquired the following letter from 
Lady Dacre to Mr. Chantrey, July 7, 1822, in which she 
makes a similiar suggestion for Mr. Allan Cunning- 
ham, whose play and poems she had just been reading. 
Allan Cullingham came to London in 18 10, and in 18 14 
was engaged by Chantrey as clerk and overseer of his 
studio. Lady Dacre speaks as if there were no doubt 
of who was the author of " The F<)rtun(\s of Nigel." 
The secret was pretty well known both in London 
and in Scotland. It was not, however, till some years 
after that Scott put an end to the mystification and 


avowed himself the sole and unassisted author, Feb- 
ruary 1827. See Lockhart's Life, vol. vii. p. 19. 

Lady Dacre to Mr. Chantrey 

The Hog, 
July 7, 1822. 
Dear Mr. Chantrey, 

I called one day before I left town to thank you 
for your present of Mr. Cunningham's works, and to 
say a vast deal about them, for I was never more 
struck than with their singular beauty in spite of the 
total disregard of the poet to what critics may say, 
or rather have said. I have since found the sum total 
of all that can be beat out to spread over all the 
reviews and literary magazines, in the introductory 
chapter of " The Fortunes of Nigel," and could not but 
feel gratified by finding the opinion of such an author 
so exactly coincide with mine. Since Mr. Cunning- 
ham has that which cannot be acquired, why should 
he not gain what is so easily acquired (arrangement), 
and which is so necessary in a dramatic composition ? 
As one identifies oneself with the personages it 
distresses one beyond measure, and interrupts the 
interest they excite, when they act in a manner one can- 
not account for. Sir Marmaduke's conduct throughout 
the play is of that stamp, and he is the hero of it ! But 
as all has been said in Sir Walter Scott's few words, 
why should I enlarge ? 1 think most of the songs 
quite lovely. Pray ask Mr. C. what Sir Walter 
Scott means by speaking of " it's hame, and it's hame," 
as if it was the title of one of the songs (p. 34 of the 
introductory chapter), and afterwards (p. 196 of 
vol. iii) making Richie Moniplies hum a stanza be- 
ginning with those words ? This stanza is not to be 
found in Mr. C.'s very beautiful song, " My Ain 
Countrie," to which it seems to belong. Which is 
the author of the stanza [illegible] ! Mr. C. or 
Sir Walter? It is worthy to be a part of that song, 
1 think, if it is not. If it originally was, I hope it will 
be restored to its honours. Oh! how beautiful, "A 
Weary Bodie's blithe " is, and " The Broken Heart 
of Annie," especially the third stanza! I like "The 
Mermaid " excessively. In short, Mr. C. is certainly 
a great poet, although he has not yet written a fine 


drama in all points. How lovely the scene of re- 
conciliation when Mary Douglas is disguised as a page ! 
Very Shakespearean, very Allan Ramseyish, and yet 
totally his own ! Old Graeme seems to me one of the 
best characters in the whole. In short, I have read 
and re-read the piece with infinitely more delight than 
all the modern plays written to pattern, though it 
certainly seems to set all patterns at defiance. Per- 
haps Mrs. Chantrey will ask the questions I put of 
Mr. C. and give me his answers. " The Bride of 
Lammermoor " is a very dramatic story ; I cannot help 
fancying Mr. C. might make something beautiful of 
it. He will answer, perhaps, as Joanna Baillie did : 
" Nothing half so affecting as the story as lit stands." 
Is the abominable man stuck up in Hyde Park yet ? 
I long to hear it well quizzed. With best compliments 
to Mrs. Chantrey, and due homage to Mr. C, with 
thanks for the high entertainment he has afforded me, 
Believe me, dear Mr. Chantrey, 

Yours faithfully, 

B. Dacre. 

Mr. Brougham to Lady Dacre 


My DEAR Lady D., 

I enclose Monti's famous sonnet, having got 
it accurate of a friend of his and mine. It is amazingly 
spirited, and on reading your " Petrarch " last night, 
I felt sure that you and you alone could do it justice 
by putting it in an English dress. 1 began it and 
stopped short at verse i : " Beat and betrayed by 
valour or by fraud " ; if you could make it all as 
literal and more poetical, it will do. I have desired 
a set of our Society's Treatises to be sent to Chester- 
field Street for you, and beg your acceptance of them. 

Ever youi's truly, 


Mr. Brougham to Lady Dacre 

1 write in Court noise. 

(Juii.DiiAi.i., Monday. 

Mv DKAR Lady D,, 

1 send your co])y (wliicli is luaily (|uite accu- 
rate) with the words filled up; you must try 3'our 

i822] PER LA PACE DI 1814 47 

practised hand. I don't think, in a sarcastic and 
political sonnet, that Beat is a bad word. The 
alliteration is an excuse. I forgot to say that 1 have 
arranged so as to enable Foscolo occasionally to give 
a course of lectures on Italian Literature and Poetry 
without being one of our professors, which he is quite 
unfit for. He can't teach, and has not temper and 
steadiness for our discipline. 

Per la Pace di 18 14 

Tradito e vinto per virtude o inganno, 
Chi molti ha vinto e chi tradito ha tutti, 
Cessar dei troni vacillanti i lutti 
Ed ogni Prence penso farsi tiranno. 
1 Russi artigli sul Polono stanno, 
Prussia d'Elba vuol dominar i fiutti, 
Brettagna ha i mari in servitu ridutti, 
Gli Austriaci Italia a gotezzar sen vanno. 
SuU Franco soglio un dei Borbone or siede 
Per voler di quel Popolo che ardio 
Trucidar ne il fratello e il figlio erede. 
I Frati a generar ritorna or Pio 
Spagna minaccia ai dotti Atti di fede. 
Quest' e la Pace che ci ha dato Iddio ! 

Translation of "Pace di 1814" 

Betrayed, subdued ! — by fraud or hostile troops 

The man who conquered many— r?// betrayed f — 

The strife of tottering diadems is stayed, 

And to its tyrant Prince each nation stoops. 

On fated Poland Russia's eagle swoops. 

While Prussia would the flowing Elbe restrain, 

Proud Britain lords it o'er the subject main. 

And Italy in Austrian darkness droops ! 

Behold a Bourbon France's sceptre bear 

By that same people's will, whose impious cry 

The Brother doomed, nor spared the infant heir ! 

Pius returns his monks to multiply 

For learning, Spain would holy flames prepare. 

This! this! the Peace vouchsafed us from on high. 

" Per la Pace di 18 14," said to be by Monti : a note 
on one of the copies, written by Lady Dacre, says. 

48 UGO FOSCOLO [1822 

" Gaspannetto, not Monti." I have it written out by 
Lord Brougham, whose notes are : 

ist, Gothicize line 8 

2nd. Aittodafe line 13 

3rd. To line 12: cio e — Pius now returns (or is 
now returned) to manufacture or generate 
monks. I frati is in the accusative case. 

Mr. BrougJiam to Lady Dacre 

6 o'clock. 

My dear Lady D., 

I was literally stopt in an instant, the nurse and 
child were in the carriage and I was stepping in, when 
briefs for to-morrow morning came in and forced me 
back. I had concealed myself and said I went at one, 
but they followed me to Hill Street and caught me ; I 
had rather pay a hundred times what I am forced to 
take than stay for it. Both I and Denman (to whom I 
ventured to show your translation) admired it to the 
uttermost. You have done a wonder ! The only 
failure is in taking troops for your rhyme, and D. says 
you have not rendered " penso farsi tiranno ! " He 
holds this to be a very fine thought, and reads it thus : 
each little princeling had leisure to think of making 
himself a tyrant. 1 think he refines ; but he adds, in 
which I heartily agree, that your sonnet would be a 
very fine thing even if it were not a translation. May 
I give Lord Holland a copy ? 


H. Brougham. 

Lord Brougham, in sending the sonnet said to be by 
Monti for Lady Dacre to translate, mentions Foscolo. 

Ugo Foscolo, an eminent Italian writer (1778 — 1827), 
was received in England with enthusiasm, on account 
of his poetical works and patriotic deeds. He made 
a great deal of money by lectures, etc., but by 
extravagance was reduced to abject poverty', not 
leaving enough to pay for his funeral. He was buried 

i822] UGO FOSCOLO 49 

at Chiswick, but forty-four years after his body was 
removed to Santa Croce, Florence. He, I think, 
became acquainted with Lady Dacrc through Mrs. 
Lawrence of Liverpool. There was much literary 
correspondence between them, and a letter of his, 
dated June i, 1827, is in my possession. There is not 
much in it of general interest, but it is written in 
good English, the handwriting very peculiar, and the 
/ always written i. I have always understood that 
Foscolo was quite remarkably ugly, and a picture 
that I remember seeing years ago at the Hoo has 
certainly left me with that impression. 

Mr. Brougham to Lady Dacre 

(On receiving the two volumes of dramas) 

Hill Street, 

My dear Lady Dacre, 

Accept my best thanks for the very valuable 
present which I have received from you. Much of it 
is old acquaintance, and has long been admired by me, 
but there is a good deal new, especially in the first 
volume. I think, too, some of the " Petrarchs " 1 
had not seen, or have forgotten. Don't you recollect 
my being so struck with some you gave me that I 
urged you to take a little of Dante in hand ? You 
made some '* frivolous and vexatious " excuse, and I 
am as obstinate as you, for, on reading these transla- 
tions again, 1 am quite certain you would give the Poet 
far more closely and poetically than he has yet been 
given. Gary is really much over-rated ; it is hardly 
more than a prose translation, but I must stop, pcrche 
la vita fiigge c non s'arresta 2in ora. 

Yours most sincerely, 

H. Brougham. 


Birth of Brand and Barbarina Sullivan — Tour in France — Birth of 
Gertrude Sullivan — Removal to Kimpton — Birth of Bertram 
Sullivan — Letters of Lord Lynedoch — Mrs. Sullivan's Letters 
to her Husband and Lady Dacre— " Recollections of a Chaperon " 
— Letters from Lord Dacre — " Tales of the Peerage and 
Peasantry " — Letters from Barbarina Sullivan, Lady Dacre, Lady 
G. Grey, and Sydney Smith. 

[We must now return to the young couple, Frederick 
Sullivan and his wife, whom we left settled in the 
beautiful little village of Hambledon, in Surrey. 

Their eldest child. Brand Frederick, was born in 
April 1822, and the birth of Barbarina Charlotte 
(afterwards Lady Grey) followed on June 26, 1823. 

In 1824 Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan and Lord and Lady 
Dacre went for a tour on the Continent, visiting Paris 
and Switzerland, and returning by the Rhine, Lord 
Lynedoch, of Peninsula fame, was one of the party. 
William Sullivan also joined them for a time while 
they were in Paris. The following are extracts from 
letters of the young couple to Lady Sullivan. The 
two children. Brand and Barbarina, were left in her 
care during the absence of their parents.] 

The Rev. Frederick Stdlivan to his mother 

Hotel de Rivoli, Paris, 
June 20, 1824. 

Here we arc, dearest mother, established for a 
fortnight or three wc-cks mi iroisivnu\ as they call it, 
ail sixieinc, as 1 should call it, there being two entresols 


i824] IN PARIS 51 

and a rez-de-chausee. Comfortable enough, however, 
and all pretty well. We accomplished our journey 
most successfully, slept at Louvier, seeing Rouen — at 
least the Cathedral and the Place de Jeanne d'Arc. 
By the way, beastly hotel at Rouen, amazing quantity 
of small shipping there, and apparently much com- 
merce. Country very rich and beautiful the whole 
way. Slept at St. Germains last night, saw the 
chateau, and here we are. Lord Lynedoch has been 
the life of our party, knowing everything worth seeing 
and as active as a bird. He told a number of stories 
about St. Germains that were very amusing. He 
had been there before the Revolution, hunting with 
Monsieur, lie has got some rooms close at hand, 
there not being room for him at this hotel. We pay 
200 francs a week for our apartments. We have got 
our lacquais de place, and shall have a carriage to- 
morrow, so that all is ready for sight-seeing. We had 
a very droll scene just now. The ladies find their 
English bonnets pigmies compared with the French, 
and were unwilling to go out in them. What does 
the most active and young of men do ? — I mean Lord 
Lynedoch — but start out without a word, and return in 
no time with proper bonnets, etc. He then quickly 
hid Lady Dacre's bonnet, and, when the bonnet-maker 
was gone, produced it, saying that he had hid it to 
preserve it from ridicule, . . . 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Sullivan 

Hotel de Rivoli, 
June 28. 

We none of us think Paris so enchanting as other 
English people, and are such thoro' John and 
Jenny Bulls that we cannot make our palates accus- 
tomed to the sour wine, and long for our bottled ale 
beyond all measure. Everything is as dear as in 
England, except eau-de-Cologne and shoes. But then, 
the shoes are bad. I see nothing very tempting, 
and have ordered me one evening gown, have bought 
one collar and two pairs of shoes, and a large bonnet, 
That's all, and mean to buy nothing more of any 
kind or sort. We are going to the Embassador's next 
Tuesday, when I shall appear in my new amber ombre 

52 AT ST. DENIS [1824 

gown ! Hair is to be no longer crepe^ but in ringlets 
a rAnglaisc. How funny we are, both nations ! I 
have gone back to my ringlets with great glee. We 
have been twice to the play — the Theatre Fran9ais 
and the Gymnase. . . . 

Good-bye, all of you ; must be off to the Louvre. 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Sullivan 

Hotel de Rivoli, 
/«/y 6, 1824. 

. . . We have been very quiet the last two days. 
We have settled in our own minds that we hate the 
pelife pieces of the French ; we are therefore going 
again to the Fran^ais to see the " Misanthrope," 
having been perfectly enchanted with Tartuffe the 
other night. 

I was in heaven the other day at St. Denis, seeing 
all the tombs of the Kings. 1 showed off so much 
about the history of France (certainly thanks to Mrs. 
Moore's little history) that the guide thought me the 
wisest of women, utterly neglected Mama, Fred, and 
a host of other people who followed, and devoted 
himself entirely to me. The monument of Francis I. 
is one of the most beautiful things I ever saw. The 
other monuments were curious and interesting, but 
Francis I.'s is the most beautiful specimen of sculpture 
and taste (except the two figures of the King and his 
wife Claude, who are laid out stark naked, as large as 
life, but rather thin, as if attenuated with illness) that 
I ever saw in my life ! 1 longed to take sketches of 
the bas-reliefs. I think I have enjoyed St. Denis 
more than anything else 1 have seen. Buonaparte 
has restored all that Robespierre destroyed, and the 
Bourbons seem to be still polishing and beautifying 
according to his plans. 1 heard rather a droll 
anecdote the other day, and 1 should think, from 
the authority, it must be true, although it does not 
seem in the spirit of the proceedings of the King, who 
to my mind appears to leave all he can leave as 
Buonajjarte made it, and to execute all he can of 
Buonaparte's plans. There is a new history of France 
written cx|)ress]y for the use of the Universities, 
which, when it arrives at the period of the Revolution, 
merely says : Then succeeded thirty years of discord 


and anarchy, at the end of which Louis XVIIL, in 
the eighteenth year of his reign, returned to the arms 
of his people ! . . . 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Sullivan 

July 17, 1824. 

, . . Yesterday evening we went to Madame de 
Gontaut's at St. Cloud, and she showed us the little 
Due de Bordeaux and his sister asleep in two little 
white cribs, with plain night-caps just like little Barn's, 
and two nursery-maids sitting in the room just like 
any other nursery-maids. The boy appeared a very 
fine child, with great round cheeks, breathing a thorough 
hard, childish, sleepy breathing, so that I longed to kiss 
and mousle him. Madame de Gontaut seems immensely 
fond of the boy, so that, notwithstanding the slavery 
and imprisonment she lives in, she rather dreads the 
time when he is to be taken from her and put under a 
governor — it is doubtful whether at five years old or 
seven. He is three years and a half old, the girl 
one year older. We felt quite awed on approaching 
the ralace with guards all about : we passed through 
a room of guards lying on their mattresses ; one really 
did feel in the precincts of royalty. The King is there 
now, I suppose Frederick told you about Versailles 
the other day. We were quite delighted with it in its 
way. , . . 

Yesterday we went to Vincennes. . . , We saw the 
wing of the chapcllc where our Henry V, died. It 
is rather gratifying to our English pride seeing at 
Windsor the place where a French king was imprisoned, 
and at Vincennes where an English king died master 
of France, and at Rouen, where an English king was 
crowned King of France. The painter Gerard is a 
very agreeable man indeed, and though his pictures 
are better than most of the other French artists, his 
conversation is a great deal cleverer than his painting. 

Upon my word the filth of Paris is great ! The 
stinks are too abominable ! It really puts me in a 
passion. How we shall enjoy a little English cleanli- 
ness ! I should like to do some injury to the French 
housemaids, so great is my provocation at them. . . . 
We were at the Grand Opera last night. The ballet 
was " Le Page Inconstant" — the same story as 


" Les Noces de Figaro " with a few more infidelities 
and wickednesses mixed up in it. The dancing was 
very pretty indeed, but not such a violent deal better 
than ours. The preniiere danseitse was one of the 
inferior dancers till Marshal Lauriston sent a dispatch 
from Spain ordering her to be made premiere danscusc. 
He is in love with her, Mdlle. Brocard was the cause 
of the Due de Berri's death. I'll tell you how. He 
was in love with her, and after handing the Duchesse 
de Berri to her carriage, he returned to see her finish 
her pas. As he was returning he was assassinated, 
which shows how dangerous it is to do such wicked 
things ! A fine lesson to French husbands ! . . . 


Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Sullivan 

Hotel de Lecheron, close to Geneva, 
Monday, July ig. 

My dear Lady Sullivan, — 

Here we are safe and sound and enchanted. . . . 
We have been quite delighted with our journey. The 
first night we slept at Fontainebleau, the second at a 
very nice inn in Champagne at Villeneuve-le-Roi, the 
third at Bouvray, the fourth at Dijon, where we met 
with an old emigre friend of Lord Dacre's who invited 
us to pass a day with him in his gardener's house, 
where he lives till he rebuilds his Chateau, of which 
not one trace now remains. We went to him at 
Pleuvault on Thursday, and he took us in a waggon, 
with straw and sacks by way of seats, all over his 
immense woods. The next morning the gentlemen 
went boar-hunting in these same woods, but alas ! no 
boars did they see. I walked about the village in the 
morning, and made acquaintance with some very nice 
peasants. Indeed, swore eternal friendship with one, 
Jeanne Lieutet by name. She brought me cherries and 
flowers to take away with me, and begged me to give 
her my name in writing to keep. 

We left our old Marquis de Mondragon de Pleuvault 
after dinner, and slept at Dole. My wig! what a 
night I had of it with the bugs ! I got up at last, put 
on my dressing-gown, and sat in a chair till three 
o'clock, and then 1 woke everybody, and we set off at 
four. . . . 


Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Sullivan 


Friday^ August 20. 

My di'ar Lady Sullivan, — 

Wc arrived here this evening; to-morrow we 
part with Mama after going in the morning to the Falls, 
which we have not yet seen. They proceed a post or 
two on their way back to Geneva, and we two German 

posts and a half — ^alias twenty-five miles to D 

[illegible], by the advice of the Norclififes, whom we met 
at Zurich, and who told us that nothing in the world 
can be more beautiful than the Vallee d'Enfer which 
we see by taking this route. . . . 

Our expedition to Einsicdl^en was most amusing, 
and answered to us almost as well as anything we have 
done yet. I had no idea that superstition still existed 
anywhere in such full force. Notre Dame des Ermites 
is next in sanctity to Our Lady of Loretto they say. 
In a bleak, desolate part of the mountains, near the 
further end of the Lake of Zurich, with no houses near 
it except its own village, boggy ground only good for 
peat around it, a black pine forest behind it, is situated 
one of the most magnificent and highly decorated 
churches you ever saw, and a monastery with four or 
five courts, a building almost as extensive as Hampton 
Court. The village consists entirely of inns for the 
pilgrims and of shops for rosaries and umbrellas. 
Literally nothing else. There are eighty inns perched 
up here, and on one Feast Day 20,000 people were at 
Einsiedlen in one day. We met numberless pilgrims 
returning, the preceding Sunday having been a Fete, 
but stilf there were a great many there. They say 
there are almost as many as before the Revolution. 

The first thing the pilgrims do is to drink of fourteen 
fountains, as they suppose our Saviour drank at some 
one of them, and they are afraid of missing the right 
one. At Zurich we found, on our return, the Norcliffes, 
Colonel Bowater, and Mr. Eden. We did not see his 
wife, but made great friends with him, going to the 
Library, where we saw some original letters of Lady 
Jane Grey's, and some of Henry IV.'s. Thursday we 
went to Constance. We took a row on the lake, 
which will not do for people who have seen the lakes 
we have seen ! The flat-bottomed boats used on these 

56 ZURICH TO KEHL [1824 

lakes are the most unhandy things in the world, the 
whole manner of proceeding so unlike sailors, that one 
is an} thing but happy if the wind blows the least. 
This morning we came through Baden to Schaffhausen. 
The road very good, the country quite flat— at least not 
in the least mountainous — a great deal of wood, and 
lilies of the valley growing wild. They were not in 
bloom of course, but how lovely they must be in the 
spring ! 

Frederick immensely well, and rejoicing in the idea 
of being at home within a month. We go to Baden- 
Baden and to Strasburg. We calculate upon being at 
home the sixteenth of September. I do not know 
what days the Packet sails from Calais to London, but 
you may look for us on the nearest day to the i6th. 

I shall not write again till I get to Brussels. 

Kehl, Monday, 23rd. — To-morrow we cross the Rhine 
into Strasburg, where I hope to find letters. We parted 
with my poor Wow the same day, and you never saw 
any poor creature turn away from home with more 
reluctance. She envies us being there a fortnight 
before her ! Bam and a beer-barrel she is accused of 
longing for equally. The Vallee d'Enfer is magnificent ! 
I am very glad we came this way. We get on wonder- 
fully well with only three words of German, and our 
little difficulties rather entertain us. We have been 
twice where no soul spoke French ; at the inns where 
we sleep they always do so. Our journey has been 
most properous and not near so slow as I expected 
German posting to be. Now, good-bye. 

Your most affectionate, 

A. J. Sullivan. 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Dacre 

Thursday, S epic tuber 2. 

... As I am quite convinced you never got my 
letter directed to Lyons and written from Carlsruheor 
Stuttgart— 1 forget which — you shall find one on your 
arrival at Bordeaux. We staid a whole day at Frank- 
fort on purpose to dine with George Seymour ; there 
was no resisting his cordiality, and very comfortable 
we were, only we three, talking over every body and 


everything we ever did. He is a charming ambassador ! 
By the bye, he told me Lord Hampden was dead, not 
that I expect the least good to anybody, but I rather 
long to hear about it. . . . My desire to get home 
encreases in the ratio of falling bodies. 

At Darmstadt we saw some very good pictures in a 
collection at the Grand Duke's, a most beautiful 
Rembrandt, much the best 1 ever saw to my mind. 
At Frankfort we went to the Opera, and we had a 
good gaze at the angelic Ariadne. There were pre- 
parations for the Grand Fair at Frankfort, which lasts 
three weeks. To-day was the first day, and we walked 
all round the booths before we came away. Frankfort 
looks immensely flourishing and full of business, such 
a contrast to the quiet little Electoral capitals, with 
their palace, their gardens, their nine or ten streets, 
their hundred or two of soldiers, and dozen or two of 
tidy girls in tidy gowns, with smooth hair, walking 
about arm in arm. . . . Good-night ; the moon quite 
lovely on the Rhine under our windows, and I must 
go out and walk on the banks. 

CoBLENTZ, Friday. — A very nice row down the Rhine, 
banks very pretty, and something very romantic in the 
twenty-four castles I counted in about as many miles, 
each with its story attached to it. It is quite unlike 
anything else, and very pretty indeed, but must not be 
named in the same day as Swiss scenery. 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Dacre 

Wednesday evetiing. 

. . . Let me see, I wrote from Coblentz. Some of 
the road to Cologne very pretty. We ordered Lord 
Lynedoch's eau-de-Cologne, which was to be sent to 
Calais by the post, and he is then to pay the post for 
it (18 francs for twelve bottles). We were much 
tempted to bring them with us, but we did not know 
where to stuff them, and we were also so afraid of 
exciting suspicion at the Custom House that I only 
bought two bottles for myself! Think of our provoca- 
tion when we found a large case of Pierre's in the 
carriage, without your leave or by your leave. We 
could have murdered him, for we longed to bring the 


dear lord's. He puts us in a passion upon an average 
five times a day, i.e. morning, evening, and the three 
times we generally change horses. There is not living 
so great a humbug, and with that sanctified face ! 
You will hate him as much as I do when I tell you all 
his misdemeanours. I never saw Frederick so provoked 
with anything alive. 

At Aix-la-Chapelle we did see such relics ! A tooth 
of St. Catherine, Our Saviour's girdle, the Virgin's 
girdle, a bit of the true cross, and a bit of the rope 
with which our Saviour was bound, etc., etc., besides, 
several bones of Charlemagne's, and a piece of his 
skull. The skull is encased in a painted bust, of which 
they take off the crown and there protrudes a bit of the 
skull — all shown by a Canon in full pontificals, who 
received 5 francs for his pains. Many other various 
things which entertained me very much ; among others, 
the marble chair on which Charlemagne was buried 
sitting on end ; Frederick Barbarossa had him dug 
up 300 years after his death, and vv^as crowned in this 
chair, and so were all the Emperors after him. Quite 
in my way ! We saw a very good collection of 
pictures, and then went to Spa, which is no great 
things as to beauty. Went to the Redoute in the 
evening, and saw all the people gambling. It must be 
the most pernicious place in the world, for I think 
everybody must gamble in self-defence— nothing else 
to do, nobody left to talk to. 

Next morning left Spa and never wish to set foot in 
it again. 

Thursday. — Yours received, my poorest and dearest, 
I like to have you miss me, and yet I am sorry you 
should want that which you cannot have just now. 
Our linchpins are very well, and Frederick has been 
marvellously alert examining the carriage without 
ceasing. I hope you have seen more sights than you 
describe, or else you have seen none. The weather 
has been fine lately, but I pronounce England to be 
the least changeable of climates. . . . 

. . . We went to the Laeken Palace this morning and 
then to some pictures — not an interesting collection, but 
some very fine Rubens ; I begin to understand his 
merit — his extreme power, boldness, brilliancy, what- 
ever he chuses to imagine that he can execute, only he 
often chuses to imagine ugly things. To-day they 


were almost all holy subjects, so that he was obliged 
to steer clear of white ])orpoises by way of nymphs. 
Oh ! 1 have bought you a cap ; it is all of Brussels lace, 
exactly like the one of Mechlin lace in shape. I was 
in a peck of trouble as it cost 6 napoleons. After all 
it was real ; there are none in black. Your other cost 
5 guineas, and Mechlin is not near so dear as 
Brussels lace. Now, good-bye and bless you ; tenderest 
love to the Tim of Tims ^ ; love to all your party, 

From your Babe. 
Oh ! how I long for our reunion at Hoo. 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivmt to Lady Dacre 

Monday 13. 

Purry, dearest, I shall begin a letter which I shall 
send to-morrow from Calais. Oh ! how I have wanted 
you since I have left Brussels — such pictures as I have 
seen ! You must come abroad again, cross to Ostend, 
and spend a fortnight amongst the pictures in the 
Netherlands some summer. You know nothing at all 
about Rubens, at least I believe you don't. I am quite 
sure I did not, and then we saw yesterday such a little 
divine Corregio. Oh ! a virgin only, a profile looking 
up. I mean to do nothing in life but see pictures, I 
have taken a passion for them. Of all the collections 
I ever saw, Mr. S.'s is the finest and the most pleasing. 
A very civil man, . . , we are great friends. ... I 
cannot bear your having missed all these pictures ; 
I don't know what to do about it. 

Calais. — Tuesday, half-past two and very hungry, 
for we are accustomed to such early hours now ! One 
day we dined — actually dined — at 1 1 a.m., and onl}'^ had 
tea and eggs for supper. In Germany one o'clock is a 
late and fashionable hour for the tabic dhotc. Never 
was there so grand an hotel as this and so comfortable, 
only one can't get one's dinner ! . . . 

Have just had an excellent dinner, and we are going 
to walk on the beach to see the carriage on board. At 
five o'clock to-morrow morning we are to start our- 
selves, and if all goes well, I hope to have hugged 
my babes by eight o'clock to-morrow evening ! Is it 

' [Lord Dacre was always called Tim.] 

6o WATERLOO [1824 

credible, and don't you envy me ? The last accounts 
are quite delightful, and my Aunt Bouverie said she 
thought Bam was improved in looks. To-morrow I 
shall see with my own eyes. Oh ! I have been to 
Waterloo, too, since I wrote, and understand it all 
better than I expected. Saw several monuments to 
English officers. Our guide was evidently a Buona- 
partist in his heart ; he was intent upon making us see 
the difficulties the French had to contend with, and 
the advantage of ground the English had. What fine, 
handsome towns the Flemish towns are, and how 
horrid Calais seems after them ! Love to Timotheus 
and Lord L. 

Your babe, 

A. J. S. 
I am sure I have been good about writing. 

Rev. Frederick Sullivan to Lady Sullivan 

My dearest Mother, — 

We fully intend crossing on Wednesday next, 
and as the Packet leaves Calais at 5 a.m., it should 
arrive at 4 p.m., in which case we shall get down to 
you, bag and baggage, that night. In all probability, 
however, we shall not get the carriage through the 
Custom House till next morning, but that will not 
hinder Arabella certainly, and me probably, from being 
with you to tea. Those dear children will be asleep ; 
it can't be helped, they must be awakened ; half a 
night's less sleep will not signify at the end of the week. 
. . . Let us find a line in Chesterfield Street to say 
you are all well. What loads we shall have to tell 
you when we all meet ! Arabella keeps a capital log. 
Not another week, dearest mother, and we shall, 
please God, be with you. 

Your affectionate son, 

Fred. Sullivan. 

[The following year (1825) another daughter was 
born, and called Gertrude Arabella. The first name 
was borne by Lord Dacre's sister, and pronounced 
with a soft Italian "g"; the second name was her 



In 1827 Mr. Sullivan was given the living of 
Kimpton by Lord Dacre, and in June 1828 his 
second son, Bertram, was born. 

The vicarage at Kimpton seems to have required 
some repairs, and while this was being done Mr. and 
Mrs. Sullivan and their four children paid a pro- 
longed visit to Lord and Lady Dacre at the Hoo. 

Lord Lyncdoch was an intimate friend of both 
Lady Dacre and Mrs. Sullivan. As Thomas Graham 
of Balgowan he married a daughter of the ninth 
Lord Cathcart ; in 1780 he and his wife went to 
Spain for the benefit of Mrs. Graham's health, and 
a few years later he bought Lynedoch, near Perth. 
He was keenly interested in agricultural improve- 
ments, and remained so all his life; he was a crack 
shot and rider, and he and Lady Dacre were united 
in their great love and admiration for horses. 

Mrs. Graham died in 1791 ; this was to him a 
life-long sorrow, and he sought to distract his mind 
by travel. He raised and equipped the Perthshire 
Volunteers, now the 2nd Scotch Rifles, and the 
senior light infantry of the British Army. He was 
present under General Doyle at Quiberon and lie 
Dieu, and was shut up in Mantua with General 
Wurmser during the French investment of that 
city. He greatly distinguished himself in Egypt, 
was at the battle of Corunna, and was one of the 
few present at Moore's death and burial. 

In 1809 he received permanent rank as major- 
general; in 1810 was sent to succeed General Sher- 
brooke in Portugal, and obtained a victory over the 
French at Barossa on March 5, 181 1. He refused a 
Spanish dukedom. 

In 1814 he was created Lord Lynedoch; in 1815 he 
started the project of a military club (this scheme 


afterwards included the two Services); in 18 17 the 
foundation of the present Senior United Service 
Club was laid. 

At the age of seventy-four Lord Lynedoch rode 
twenty-four miles to a meet of the Pytchley Hunt 
and followed the hounds. At the same age he 
acted as second to the Duke of Bedford in his duel 
with the Duke of Buckingham. His later years were 
much enfeebled by ill health and by his blindness ; 
he was several times couched for cataract. 

There is an amusing and pathetic story told of 
him and of Lady Dacre in their later years. While 
on a visit to the Hoo, and at the time almost totally 
blind, he went out riding with Lady Dacre and un- 
attended by a servant. Lady Dacre's sight was good, 
but she was as deaf as her companion was blind. 
They rode over Codicote Heath, and on the rough 
ground her horse stumbled and fell. She was left 
lying on a gorse bush with a sprained ankle, while 
her horse galloped home. In vain she called to her 
companion; he was too blind to be able to find her, 
and she too deaf to hear his agonised inquiries as 
to her well-being. The arrival of her riderless horse 
at the Hoo caused great alarm, and a search party 
sallied forth, and finally both the afflicted hero and 
heroine were conveyed safely home again.] 

The following letters were written about this time : 

I^ord Lyncdodi to Mrs. Frederick Sullivan 

Lynkuoch, Perth, 
September 8, 1828. 

I have intended writing to you, my dear, all 
this week, but have been so much engaged. The 
account of Rocket going so much to your satisfaction 
is most agnx'ablc to me; but 1 cannot hclj:* repeating 
my cautions to you not to trust too mucii to her on 


your flinty roads : not on account of her feet, which are 
excellent, but in her walk and trot she never quite 
pleased me, having rather a way of shoving her foot 
forward, than putting it down flat on the ground from 
a wcU-bcnt knee. It was to correct this kind of action 
that 1 recommended old Lorraine Smith's mode of 
teaching horses in their walk and trot to bend their 
knees better than they are naturally inclined to do. 

You will recollect that his plan was to exercise them 
for an hour or two every day to step over small poles, 
such as larch, fir, or ash — that grow straight and 
would lie level on the ground — the root end of these 
being put at right angles against the wall, and each 
being placed at a proper distance from the other, 
according to the pace at which the horse is to be 
rode. The servant is to ride backwards and forwards 
near the wall — first at a walk, to let the horse know 
what is expected of him, and afterwards at a trot. 

These poles should be 6 to 8 inches in diameter, 
and it is evident that the most daisy-cutting goer must 
be forced to bend his knees in order to raise his foot 
sufficiently to clear these obstacles between every step. 
However, as nothing is more difficult than to get the 
better of that sort of action which nature has given to 
a horse, this method cannot be expected to do much 
good unless persevered in for a long while. But 1 can 
give you a proof of the perfect success of this kind of 
artificial teaching. 

In Spain, the defect which we call dishing is there 
reckoned a great perfection in the action of a horse, 
and 1 was surprised to find that almost all the better 
kind of horses in the country went in this way. 
This led me to inquire, and I ascertained on the 
best authority, confirmed afterwards by the frequent 
observation of the practice, that all young horses that 
had not naturally a tendency to this action, were 
forced into it by having a string of large wooden 
beads (at least 2 inches in diameter) tied round each 
fetlock of the fore-feet. These, of course, hitting 
one another, obliged the young horse, in stepping 
forward, to throw the feet alternately outwards. This 
is termed in Spanish, and observed on by the seller 
ol a horse to a purchaser, that the horse has luolto 

Excuse this large history, but I am very anxious 


indeed that no means should be left untried to correct 
any defect in Rocket's action, as in many other respects 
I think she is likely to make you a useful and pleasant 

Lady Dacre writes me that there are few partridges 
about the Hoo ; we reckon it as a favourable season. 
I do not attempt to shoot ; but am in no want of 
occupation, having much to do in the thinning of my 
plantations. A strange occupation, I hear you say, 
lor a blind man ! 

There is no risk, however, of my doing any harm, 
as I trust you will acknowledge some day, when you 
return to re-visit Lynedoch. 1 must own that, during 
the first days, it made me very low-spirited not to be 
able to look to effect with the same prospective eyes 
as formerly. However, by poking about on a pony, 
and with the help of an opera-glass, 1 think I can 
contrive to judge tolerably well of what ought to be 
done or undone. At all events, there could be no 
use in indulging in melancholy repinings. Adieu ; 
remember me most kindly to all your party, and 
Believe me, 

Ever affectionately yours, 


Lord Lynedoch to Mrs. Frederick Sullivan 

February 6, 1829. 

A thousand thanks to you for your very amiable 
and entertaining letter of the 31st ult. I am very 
much pleased that the table found so much favour 
in your eyes. ... So now, at this moment, I can see 
you having finished your breakfast in your parlour, 
and comfortably settled in your own delightful room. 
It certainly shall not be long before I make you a visit 
there. 1 have settled to return to England, and hope 
to be in town on the i8th inst. Should the Hoo be at 
that time again inhabited, I shall probably join the 
party there almost immediately. 

This being carnival time, there is notliing going on 
but balls. 1 have only seen Mdlle. Mars act once 
since 1 came. It is to me by far tlie most interesting 
spectacle that Paris affords ; but though the hours 
here are much earlier than in London, still it is next to 


impossible to get away from a dinner in good time 
to see a play throughout. There is no excuse here for 
lateness in discussions in the Chambers, The most 
interesting debates are cut short whenever the Presi- 
dent observes that the clock indicates that it is within 
a quarter of six o'clock. 

There is a good deal of Englo manie in the habits 
of people here, though they would be loth to own it ; 
and it is observable that the most fashionable men, 
especially those who have been in London, always 
come late to dinner ; and indeed 1 have heard some of 
them say " Qu'il n'y avait rien qui etait d'un ton de la 
mauvaise compagnie que d'arriver trop tot dans une 
maison oil on dine. II n'y a rien qui gene davantage 
la personne de la maison ! " 

This is an exact copy of the proceedings of our 
dandies in London. . . . Good-bye, my dear ; remember 
me to Sullivan, and know me ever 

Affectionately yours, 


[In the spring of 1831 Mrs. Sullivan, who was in 
Chesterfield Street with her mother, wrote the follow- 
ing letters to her husband, on the Reform Bill and 
other questions of the hour :] 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to her husband 

2, Chesterfield Street, 
March 4, 1831. 

. . . We did not arrive till just in time to dress 
and dine and go to the Orchestra. Tim was out and 
all the newspapers gone, so I had not one word to tell 
you, and no time, had I an^'thing to say. I am afraid 
parties run very high, and there will be sad com- 
bustions. The Ministers think, or at least say they 
are sure, but others (C. Kemble, etc.) seem to think it 
very uncertain, and seem to dread the combustion 
of not carrying more than the combustion of carrying. 
To tell the truth, the whole question seems to me one 
of combustion! From all 1 hear. Ministers are up 
again quite, as to character! If they fall, they fall 
nobly, and upon that score we may all be easy ! I 
don't think that anybody thinks the Reform too little. 


Lord Dacre says that people were so astonished and 
surprised at its being so thorough that they laughed 
every minute during Lord J. Russell's exposition. 
"A sort of then, now, my wig" laugh! A good 
many old Reformers are against it as too thorough ! 

Your book came last night ; I enclose it for you to 
correct proofs. I have a great respect for you, ever 
since I have seen you in print. My respect dates from 
half-past six yesterday ! 

Well, Fanny was charming in Beatrice — her 
countenance, her acting charming. There is a morsel 
too much wriggle, I just confess ; but when one owns 
to the wriggle, one has not another fault to find, 
and every other merit. Charles Kemble's Benedict 
entirely and completely perfect. The most complete 
and finished and agreeable execution of one of the 
most acting parts I ever saw ! The play extremely 
lively and amusing, and acting well got up, I think, 
in all respects. In the orchestra, it was quite delight- 
ful to watch the play of Fanny's and Charles Kemble's 
faces. Such changes, such expression, such variety, 
such quantities, such volumes expressed by their 
silence. It was rapture to a real lover of acting ! We 
went there afterwards. Very few people. Fanny is a 
dear girl, quite pretty enough for anything. We 
talked a little of Arthur, and at length of acting. I 
liked her very much. 1 think if she could not act, one 
would like her for her own sake as a companion. 

I wish you had been at the play last night. Fanny 
is prettiest when she is sad. Her sad face, from her 
gay one, is bewitching. She says she likes acting 
comedy best, but she can't do it, it is so much more 

Tell me how Gertrude's eye is, and that dear little 
wretch who begins with his histrionic propensities at 
so early an age. 

Your loving wife, 

A. J. S. 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivaii to her Jiusbmui 

March 5, 1831. 

. . . Ministers were in great spirits last night — 
just saw Lord Ilowick — glorious! How it will all 
end heaven knows, but they were up in the bottle last 


night. Mr. Stanley's speech so very clever, powerful, 
and good, that it knocks Sir R. Peel to pieces. Mr. 
Jeffries is excellent. Mr. Croker's so bad, that it did 
them more good than all their own friends can say 
in favour of the Bill. So said the "ins" last night, 
I think they were low yesterday morning as to the 
result of the Division, and were ready prepared for 
Dissolution, but I think they were hopeful last night. 

C. Sheridan here yesterday, who considered the 
passing of the Bill absolutely out of the question — 
Dissolution certain — the rejection by the next Parlia- 
ment certain, the consequent going out of the Ministers 
certain, and a consequent Revolution certain — which 
he seemed to think quite comfortable, though all his 
money is in the Funds ; so I suppose he does not think 
it ! We went to old Sal's, Lord Salisbury there said 
the Whigs were as good as out. He put his stick 
to the ground and let it tumble, and said : " That is the 
state of the Whigs!" Then to Eliza ^ — she in such 
ecstasy at the noble position in which the Whigs 
stood, that she could not care for what the conse- 
quences might be. She seemed to fear they would 
not carry the measure this time, but expected it from 
a new Parliament. 

Lord Clanricarde and Lord Duncannon, however, 
said it would be carried now, and last night all seemed 
in spirits. The thing now is, that all England should 
petition — that is what they wish. Lord Dacre means, 
1 believe, to set a petition afloat in Herts. Whether 
the measure is too Radical or not, I am sure it would 
be best to have it carried at once. Now it has once 
been broached, the rumpus if it is not carried will be 
appalling. 1 cannot see why people should call it 
" a new condition," or why they should think that 
Members, who must all have a stake in the hedge them- 
selves, would not support the Constitution. It seems 
to me that there can be fewer penniless people with 
false qualifications than before, when great Lords 
brought in dependents. Neither do I see why property 
is not to have as great influence as ever, only more 
diffused. However, I do think most people are 
Irightened at the immense, powerful engine that will 
be put in motion, and are awed at what the conse- 
quences may be. To me it seems that, if not carried, 
' [Mrs. Robert Ellice.] 


immediate combustion is the consequence. If carried, 
the evil day will be postponed, if not entirely averted. 

How very good you have been, doing village, school, 
everything ! We dine at General Grey's and go to 
Mrs. Baring's. By the bye. Lady Salisbury says Mr. 
Baring has made the finest speech ever heard ! We 
went to Eliza, who said Mr. Baring's speech was the 
most vague and wicked thing ever uttered ! Lady 
Glengall and I very nearly got into the Ventilator last 
night. She was going from Lady Grey's, and I asked 
her to take me, and off we went ; but when we got 
to the House of Commons, it was just up. Back we 
came, to my infinite disappointment. 

Wow says she does not like politics or gardening. 
The flowers take so long growing, and the measures 
so long carrying. She wishes the measures to be 
settled and done, and the flowers to come up and blow. 
Murray says your book will certainly pay for itself, 
if it does no more. Perhaps you may make something 
when done. Murray will consult you as to the price 
at which it is to be sold. . . . 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to her husband 

March 7, 1831. 

Freddy, dear, nobody ready for breakfast, so I 
will have a word with you. Since I last wrote my 
thoughts have been almost entirely occupied with 
Reform . . . Reform . . . Reform . . . how we do talk 
politics ! All the ladies greet each other with " How 
d'ye do ? well, what do you hear ? " Instead of taking 
up each other's silks, satins, blondes, etc., after dinner, 
we fall to at Franchises, Pot-wollopers, Out-voters, 
Rotten Boroughs, and Vote by Ballot — but we do not 
lose our tempers jj'^/. 1 hey say it is not safe to talk 
politics with Lady Salisbury, and 1 have carefully 
avoided it therefore. 

Ministers are, or pretend to be, in high spirits ; they 
say they are sure of carrying it. I think Lord liowick 
is young, eager, and sincere. 1 think some of the 
others think it good policy to appear confident. Sir 
E. Knatchbull and somebody else, to the great surprise 
of all parties, vote for the measure. No division is to 
come till after Easter. They think the more time they 
give for petitions, and to the sense of the country 


to show itself, the better. It is odd enough, but the 
innumerable arguments against Reform that are now 
urged by those who were the most eager for it, make 
one stare. Sir Thomas Farquhar, of all people in the 
world, is extravagant against it; and Ridley Colbourne, 
though he means to support it, thinks it too sweeping. 
It shows how utterly impossible it is to give satisfac- 
tion. I have at length accomplished getting a paper 
and reading Mr. Stanley's and Sir R. Peel's speeches, 
and am entirely and completely convinced. I think 
Mr. Stanley's the cleverest, best, and most convincing 
thing I ever read. Sir R. Peel's, to my utter astonish- 
ment, appears to me weak ! I could in my own mind 
answer all his arguments. That he, of all men in the 
world, should call intimidation a wrong motive for 
granting the wishes of the people, when he was the 
first person who boldly changed his opinions because 
he thought the danger of refusing greater than the 
danger of granting. How good what Mr. Stanley says 
about the Sybilline books ! 

Mr. Powell, the apothecary, tells Lord Dacre that 
Colonel Jones, the Radical, has already secured his 
return for the Tower Hamlets ; also Scales, the 
butcher, who is the image of Santerre, the butcher of 
the French Revolution. We must make up our minds 
to dreadful members for London ! Your letter come. 
Will take your book to Murray and ask the needful 

Thursday, then, I will be at Barnet. I like my 
London. It is all very exciting and interesting, and 
jc ni amuse bcaitcoitp, and I begin to yearn after home. 
Saturday we had a pleasant dinner at Sir H. and 
Lady Grey's. B. Pagets will come to us some Saturday 
soon, the Woods in the summer. A good party at 
Mrs. Baring's. I talked a good deal to Lord Howick, 
Captain Seymour, Lord Melbourne, and Dulcie Eden. 
Mrs. Norton, too splendidly, magnificently, furiously 
beautiful. Cleopatra sailing on the Nile (was it Nile ? 
No, Cadmus) a joke to her! She had a Cleopatra 
head ! I never saw anything so tormentingly beautiful. 
One is attracted by her consummate beauty, one is 
repelled by her odious manner! Eyes, so, so soft — 
not soft exactly — the expression very unlike the in- 
solent expression of her mouth. Mr. Norton rather 
fidgeting around her. To-night we go to the play — 


where we don't yet know — and then to Lady Radnor's ; 
she has a few people in the evening. To-morrow, 
Fanny Kemble comes here and a small party. Some 
people say that if these Ministers are beat on Reform, 
they should still stay in and not leave the country in 
such a storm without pilots. The King's letters to 
Lord Grey, I hear, are most flattering and cordial. 

Mrs. Frederick Stdlivan to her husband 

March 7, 1831. 

Fred, dear, a shabby bit of a letter considering 
the angelic manner in which I treat you. Last night 
does not seem to have been so prosperous a night for 
the Ministers. 

Lord Howick's speech seems to have laid him open 
to the attacks of Mr. North, who is very clever. 
Nancy went to the play last night with Hattie to 
see the King at Covent Garden. She says she never 
saw people so happy ; the shouts and waving of 
handkerchiefs, etc., immense. Two men were dragged 
out by the police for scattering handbills containing 
something about Reform among the audience. All the 
people inside and outside approved in a state of good- 
humoured joy. The best thing I have heard of the 
state of public feeling is that the London tradesmen, 
who were at one time enchanted with the bloodless 
French Revolution, have found out that both in Paris 
and at Brussels trade is at a total standstill, and that 
shopkeepers are in a state of utter destitution from the 
troublous times. I hope that, as we have not followed 
the example of other countries instantly, we shall 
have time to perceive the miseries brought on by any 
Revolution, and avoid it as we did before. I ibelieve 
a few horrors in other countries to frighten us would 
be a very good thing, though one can scarcely wish 
other human creatures plunged into bloodshed and 
massacre — unless it was the only way of saving us. 

A letter from Puff this morning — very guarded. 
Quiet at Naples, but believing all north of Rome to 
be in a state of Revolution, and to have completely 
cast off the authority of the Poj)e. They had intended 
to return to Rome ; they now think of going by sea 
to Marseilles. The road between Rome and Naples 
in a ticklish state. 


We went to the Olympic Theatre last night, and 
were too late for Lady Radnor. A very good, droll 
piece of" My Great Aunt." Mdlle. Vestris the entire 
support of the theatre, and certainly, in Pandora in 
the 01ynij)ic Revels, 1 never saw such a fascinating 
creature. Though there is something not quite j)retty 
about her under jaw, her countenance is so lively, so 
expressive, her figure so lovely from head to foot, 
arms and legs both perfect, and her grace so excessive, 
that I never saw a woman more fitted to tourner la tetc 
to any man. 

Yesterday there was a report that Grant had re- 
signed, but Lord Dacre does not believe it. 1 have 
no more to tell you at all. I have seen no newspaper 
to-day. Tim keeps it till he sends it into the country, 
and it never shows its face upstairs, so no wonder 
Mama knows nothing of politics. 

Your loving wife, 

A. J. S. 

Have just skimmed the papers. Lord Howick's 
speech imprudent — very; Mr. North's very clever; 
Mr. Grant's (who is in as tight as a drum) a most 
capital answer, I think, and sets all straight. True 
enough what Lord Howick says, but so imprudent. 
I hear the railroad which would hunt us is given up. 
You had better meet me at two o'clock on Thursday ; 
nothing would keep me but finding I could get into 
the Ventilator, and that I shall not be able to do. 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to her husband 

March g, 1831. 
Fred, dear, I think you were quite right not to 
sign a requisition for a County Meeting. What makes 
you think me so violent, that I should think you 
tame ? Tim says you are quite right not to sign 
either requisition. People really do think this Bill 
will pass ; it seems to gain ground daily. Tim thinks 
if it passes at once, without any more ill blood being 
excited in the Country, we are safe from a Revolution. 
It will go further to save us than anything else can ; 
and even the question being before the countr^^, and 
there being a point to wdiich all minds are bent, is 


much better than a vague, obiectless, discontented, 
disturbed spirit being abroad. That the people should 
sit down quietly without Reform now is impossible ; 
that they should be contented with less than they 
have now been led to hope for is impossible ; but the 
longer it is delayed the more exasperated they will 
get. Several new converts have been made, and 
William Brougham said last night that Coventry, 
which suffers by this Bill, has sent an address ex- 
pressive of its delight at the measure, and ditto of the 
Corporation of Bath. 

Our little party was very pleasant last night. 
Miss Kemble came, but was too tired to sing. Mrs. 
Norton sang comic songs, and was wonderful — 
splendid; and Lord Melbourne very much in love! 

As to the sweeping Reform, it is best to do it at 
once. Qiicre : Which would gain most voters, the 
thorough or the partial ? They get Hunt and 
O'Connell, and so on, and I do not suppose they lose 
many real Reformers. It would be a very moderate 
Reform that could have got Peel, etc. Sir J. Graham's 
speech seems good ; Lord D. says O'Connell's is 
good. I think Lord D. himself would have been 
satisfied with the disfranchisement of fewer boroughs, 
but he says the measure is a good one, and nothing 
can be perfect. Never quote him, you know, though 
I believe he would say this to any one. It seems a 
pity that the qualification of houses — ;^io per annum — 
was not raised for London, for in London it amounts 
to almost universal suffrage. At least, it is as general 
as pot-wollopers. William Brougham and Mr. Wood 
all say the details of the Bill want revising. But it 
was so difficult to arrange all those, and to get the 
necessary information without letting everybody know 
what they were doing. . . . 

Mrs. Frederick Sullivan to her mother^ Lady Dacre^ 
then in London 

[Purry Wow, or more often Wow only, was Lady 
Dacre. Batty was Mrs. Sullivan, and there is a small 
plantation near a field called Appletrce Field, on the 
way fr(jni the Hoo to Kimpton, which was called, after 


her, Batty's Spinney. The letter gives an account 
of a meeting at Hertford.] 

Franked by Lord Dncrc, March 20, 1S31 

Purry dear, Tim means to write to you, if he has 
time, from the Hoo, but in case he should not, I am 
to tell you that he will be in town to-morrow at four 
o'clock, but you are not to stay at home. Well, I 
have loads to tell you. 

Imprimis. To Hertford I went in gig with Fred, 
and husband No. 2, viz. Arthur Sullivan, on horse- 
back. We found Tim, Mr. Blake,^ etc., etc. The 
meeting was held in the timber yard, and the Johnes 
were there, and on their box sat I, hearing and seeing 
everything. I never enjoyed anything half a quarter 
so much. How I wish you had been there ! 

William Hale^ began and spoke very well — plain, 
well-expressed, gentlemanlike. Then Rowland Alston 
tolerably, and then — then— up stood Tim in his cloak, 
which was half on, its red lining half seen, and one 
bit slung over his arm in the most coquettish manner. 
Positively coquettish ! He took off his hat, and he 
stood as noble, stalwart, dignified, aristocratic, and 
Roman, and noble a looking figure as you need wish 
to see, and a fine contrast to poor dear little Lord 
Salisbury, in a large drab-grey coat, and a wizened, 
wretched face. By the.bye, he spoke first, and would 
never have been heard if it had not been for Tim and 
King Fordham, but he was a plucky, game, little bitten 
dog, and though the people disliked every word he 
uttered, he was liked the better for ;his spunk. I 
would not have been him. Well, when Tim stood up 
there was a shout — a hurrah that would have done 
your heart good, and made you cry— of course. He 
spoke excessively well, and was listened to with 
delight and deference, and evidently the people were 
under his thumb. After him came Mr. Price (?), who 
declaimed rounded, prepared sentences wholly w-ithout 
argument, in good language, pleasing voice, and 
earnest manner. Then came a beastly Praise-God- 
Barebones Fordham, who looked like Swing, and 
talked as sich, and would have ruined all — he almost 

• f Of Danesbury.] =• [Of King's Walden ; married Miss Sullivan.] 

74 WEDD [1831 

turned me against Reform to hear him advocate it — 
when up got that glorious Wedd ! Oh, Wedd ! 
Wedd ! I'm really in love with Wedd ! Such a 
copious flow of cogent, clear arguments in forcible, 
eloquent language ; thoughts that seemed all clearly 
set in order in his head (all there present at once, but 
only coming out in the order he chose), clothed in the 
most perspicuous language. He never paused : if it 
had not been so clear, he would have spoken faster 
than others could digest. Long sentences, but never 
for a moment did he lose the thread, following it up 
clear to the end, and finished up each complete in all 
its parts. I have heard speaking at last ! I cry with 
delight over him, too. And then, he is so handsome ; 
such a high white forehead, iron-grey hair, black — 
coal-black — immense eyebrows, eagle eyes, fine nose, 
and a cloak, too. The people around were crying, 
"The cloaks had it." 

Mr. Blake will have told you how unanimous the 
feeling for Reform was, and that Mr. Duncan, Sir J. 
Sebright, Mr. Calvert, and one or two more spoke — 
Mr. Ward very well indeed. Then I did so like 
the holding up hands at the end, and the cheers 
for the King, and the other cheers for the Ministers 
(which you may as well tell Eliza ^ was proposed 
by Lord Dacre, and was joined in most heartily by 
the meeting !) He proposed it for " Our gallant 
Ministers who had had the courage " — something of 
that sort. I am glad he did. Oh ! how I did like 
it all ! Tim was much gratified. We had bread and 
cheese at the inn with Mr. Blake, Sir John, and 
Mr. Calvert. Tim introduced me to Mr. Wedd, 
and I felt towards him very much as you did towards 
Kcmble after " I'he Stranger." I did not kiss him, 
though ! 1 am much happier about the country 
than I was before. This meeting was a sample of 
the middling classes, the tradesmen, the Yeomen, 
of a very reforming Radical County, and never did 
I sec a more honest, wholesome, moderate feeling 
of constitutional freedom pervade any set of men. 
They had taste, too; in short, their feelings and 
mine were always in unison, so I must think them 
fine fellows. 

Tim spoke with a loud, stentorian voice, clear and 
' [Mrs. Robert EUicc] 


sonorous. He did not look a bit ill. However, he 
coughed yesterday evening a good deal ; in the night 
1 don't think he coughed much. This morning he is 
pretty well, and gone to the Hoo. . . . 

[In 1 83 1 Mrs. Sullivan's " Recollections of a Chape- 
ron" were published. They were edited by Lady 
Dacre, and Mrs. Sullivan's name was not given to the 

Lord Dacre to Mrs. Sullivan 

IVcihicsday night. 

My dearest Battie, 

Your Wow has been all day trophy-gathering, 
and is now giving you a string of them. I must tell 
you of one that was thrown into my hands without 
my seeking it, and from the very man from whom I 
should prefer receiving the smallest suffrage than from 
any other man in the Island : viz. Bobus Smith ! 
After spending an hour with him — I had actually left 
the room — he called me back, saying: "I had quite 
forgot to tell you to thank Lady Dacre, or Mrs. Sulli- 
van, whichever be the author, for the extreme pleasure 
the ' Chaperon ' has given me. The style is the best 
I have ever read of female composition, the feeling 
which pervades it is strong and beautiful, and the 
perceptions of human nature exquisite." In conveying 
my entire concurrence, I added that it was very nice 
to procure ^500 with such accomplishments, and that 
the ^200 for the second edition was to be applied, etc., 
etc. I cannot write down his answer, but it partook 
of its original native humour. Perhaps your Wow 
may tell it you. I would rather receive such a compli- 
ment from such a man than a thousand others from 
all the Sydney Smiths in Christendom. Bless you ! 
Love to Fred. 


[In 1833 Mrs. Sullivan published her ** Talcs of the 
Peerage and Peasantry." These stories, like the 
former ones, were edited by her mother, and below are 
some of the letters relating to their publication.] 


Barbarina Sullivan {aged ten) to her mother and sister 

My dear Gert, 

Tell Mama that she is very selfish, and that 1 
shall be very glad to see her and Papa and you, and 
above all baby and every one. Have you kept my 
letters, madam ? I have got all yours, I think, tied 
up with a piece of red tape, and I shall put them into 
my — oh, dear, I forgot ; Mr. Young came yesterday ; 
he has read them all I believe. We are coming home 
on Monday — hame to my ain countrie ! Aunt Brand 
took me out in the carriage the other day, and 1 had 
tea with Aunt Julia's children. . . . Poor Granny went 
to Mr. Maule, the ear doctor, and he told her to put 
soap and water into her ears. The first day it seemed 
to do her good, but to-day she is very deaf; she is 
going again to-day to him. Yesterday Grandpapa con- 
fessed that he was much better ! 

I saw Mr. Smith yesterday, Mama, and he says that 
your stories are very finely drawn — those are his 
words ; but with Lady Nithsdale he finds fault. The 
other two are quite beautiful, he says; he can find no 
fault with them. "Blanche" is every one's favourite. 
He says that Lady Nithsdale is a very good character 
herself, but that those two take up the whole piece, 
and there is not underplot enough (I tell you his very 
words) or background enough. He says something 
might be made of David, and the ride to London ought 
to have had more incidents in it. The whole sum-up 
is that it is not quite so good as Walter Scott would 
have made it, which I think great praise. He says 
you are not bold enough, and that is the reason of the 
fault. I sat by while he was saying this to Granny, 
with all my ears open wide, and treasured up every 
word he said, promising myself to send it all down to 
you to-day. Read it, and put it in your pijie and 
smoke it and profit by it. I think this letter ought to 
be printed in the reviews as a critique. Good-bye. 
Your affectionate daughter and sister, 

B. C. S. 

Lady Dacre to Mrs. Sidlivan 


Upon my word, this dear child has given you so 
good an account of Bobus's critique that it leaves me 

1833] "LADY NITHSDALE" -jy 

little to say. That Lady N. filled all the canvas, 
but the picture wanted background, were his expres- 
sions ; that you had written the account of the battles 
and historical parts with timidity ; did not trust your- 
self and let yourself go, and make those parts your 
own. I explained your reasons and feelings for that, 
and he said, " But tell her the next time she meddles 
with history not to be afraid, but to treat it her own 
way as she does other things, and it will come with 
spirit." More might be made of the subordinate char- 
acters. Lady N/s character " finely drawn " was his 
expression ; that you had done wonders for Lord 
Nithsdale, but that nothing would prevent his being 
a man who had escaped in woman s clothes and left 
his companions to suffer. Said all the impassioned 
parts were beautiful ; picked out the scene when they 
near the guns as " finely worked up." Of the other 
stories his praise was unqualified ; of your writing the 
same as before — perfect — not a word of evasion. He 
treated your stories as he does my sonnets, with 
earnest and perfectly sincere critique. 1 was delighted 
and thoroughly gratified. My maternals have been 
fattening upon it ever since. " Blanche," his favourite, 
rather. Now, in " Blanche," observe, there are Lady 
Westhope, Mr. Stapleford, the Joneses, etc., all well- 
defined subordinate characters. 

I feel so sure you can fill your canvas with any 
number, all individuals, that I do not mind a degree 
of deficiency arising from the small material afforded 
by Lady N.'s letters, and your dutiful fidelity to it, 
and humility, etc. Without any self-imposed shackle 
of this kind off j^ou go, as if Bill Armstrong's fist was 
on your back. 

He felt that " Lady N." hung a little the first fifty 
pages. Mrs. Villiers and Listers were much warmer 
last night ; which shows me they found it praised, and 
feel they would be in the wrong box if they were cool. 
Mrs. Villiers said she had read the two others first, 
thinking " Lady N." could not be so interesting as she 
knew the result beforehand, but found herself so 
caught by it that she sat up till three in the morning 
to finish it. 

Bobus thought Lady N. herself the most powerful 
thing you have done ; his criticisms were wholly con- 
fined to the general construction of the story. You 

78 BOBUS SMITH [1833 

remember how severely he criticised Scott on the con- 
struction of his ; but he said yesterday, '* His accounts 
of historical facts are unrivalled in spirit." To which, 
when I said, "Therefore she was afraid," etc., he 
answered, " But she need not fear ; let her but venture, 
and have confidence in herself." He will come to 
us when we return from Cambridgeshire, and will 
talk to you as openly as he does to me about my 
translations — never minces any matter the least, which 
from him is the greatest compliment. It means, " I 
think them so good, I would have them perfect." 
He bade me tell you, you will dispel the last traces 
of his gout. I found Bobus's room full of books 
about it— State Trials, etc.— in which he had foitilU 
to follow your management of your materials. Mrs. 
V. Smith told me Miss Fox was in raptures; she is 
good authority. In short, I came home with very 
pretty pickings, in addition to my substantial feast 
from Bobus in the morning. You understand : I 
went " to Bobus, and Bobus came to me " ; that I 
saw only Mrs. V. Smith, who said he was gone to 
me, and caught him at my house as he was leaving 
his card. 

Tim not so well to-day, incidental owing to drinking 
a little too much wine, our dinner being all Greys, 
Whitbreads, etc., and Lord and Lady B., and singu- 
larly dull. To-day we are alone, to-morrow have four 
men from the four quarters of the globe; and, mark 
my words, it will be ten times less dull. You would 
have been pleased had you seen my little Bina devour- 
ing Bobus with her eyes for your sake. She is a 
darling child, take my word for it— full of nice quali- 
ties, and sunshiny, thank heaven! as a July day. 
Many people (what Fanny would consider as the 
herd, but the herd must not be sniffed at) pitch upon 
the humorous parts of " Blanche " — the Imperial, the 
red-brick house, the dinner, etc. I think you shine in 
finesse ; I have always told you so. ... I expect the 
Quarterly^ however, to mawl us ! A-propos de Maid : 
Maule has rendered me stone deaf— worse than when 
1 had that cold— and if any syringing docs not restore 
my cars to what they were before 1 took the fatal step 
otconsulting him, I am undone. Mrs. Leeson assures 
me it will. ... 1 am quite haii])y about Bam, and able 
to give my whole soul to the book. Tim, too, has 


been decidedly better, and thought himself so— which 
is everything. And now for Maule ! 

Returned! Maule has got "what not" out of best 
ear, and it is just where it was before 1 saw him— 
nothing out of the worst, and will syringe it again 
Saturday. 1 am much comforted, and expect now to 

Lady Dacrc to Mrs. Sullivan 

Wednesday eveni7is;. 

I positively hear so much of the book that 1 know 
not how to report it all. Went to Murray this morning, 
who congratulated me, etc. ; so I said, " Is it really 
as much admired as all the things said to a mother lead 
me to suppose?" He said, "Perhaps no one is so well 
qualified to tell you the real estimation in which it is 
held as myself, as all the literary people meet in my 
room, and I hear all they say, and 1 assure you it is 
estimated more highly than any work of the kind 
has been for many years. You will see in my next 
Quarterly what is thought of it in my room." I believe 
he said Lockhart was to review it ; I know he said 
Lockhart was very favourable to it. I said, " I am told 
Bentley cannot have made less than i^i,ooo by it." He 
said, "Very probably, and very fairly." I told him 
what he gave you, and he said, " It was a very liberal 
offer for a first work. There is always so much risk 
and uncertainty in a first work ; they so often prove 
a total loss to a bookseller that they should now and 
then have a lucky venture like this." He was very 
friendly. I said 1 was [illegible] to contradict officially 
its being mine ; he proposed my writing a contradiction 
which he would undertake should go to every paper. 
But Tim disapproves, and says its being contradicted 
in the Quarterly will be much better, and 1 wrote 
to Murray to that effect. . . . Tim has written the 
enclosed note while Miss Brand talked to him. I 
cannot finish the story. " Employ thei;200 in building 
a [illegible]" quoth Tim. "She may build it," quoth 
Bobus, " with the book, but she will never furnish with 
it." Was it not funny and neat as a compliment ? They 
have a droll story of Lady (General) Grey crying 
over it, and the poor general saying several times, 
" You seem to have a cold, Charlotte ; bless me, what 


a cold you have," till she looked up saying, <' Don't you 
see, general, I am crying?" Murray said Milly's story 
was particularly admired ; he told me the headings were 
admired, and a great advantage to a book. I said the 
interest of the story always prevented people stopping 
to read them. He said, " No ; Walter Scott would not 
have put them had he not found the advantage, and 
advised your continuing to do so. . . . And now for a very 
droll conversation with White. When I went to dress 
I said, "I believe I have suited myself to a maid. Have 
you heard of anything?" "No, my lady, I had no 
thought of your being in such a hurry ; I thought to be 
sure you'd stop till you'd heard what Mrs. Sullivan 
said." I could hardly keep my countenance, but I 
answered awfully. I then told her of a place which 
she had better lose no time about, which brought out 
she had written to Lady Bute yesfcrday for the place of 
housekeeper at Luton, which she has known this 
fortnight was to be had. So it was evident she gave 
warning enough to authorise her to try for it ; thought 
/ should wait till I saw you, by which time she would 
have got her answer, and be ready to eat her words 
then, if expedient. Finding what I had done, she 
began eating immediately— said 1 mistook her— " that 
she was fond of the children "— " only meant she was 
not used to children "—"did not understand them "— 
that I said " 1 should have Miss Gertrude too " — and 
that she was " very afraid — didn't mean she was sure," 
and so on, till I cried " Pooh, pooh," and stopped her 
short, telling her it was irrevocably done. Good night, 
dearest. Sapte came to breakfast ; raved about the 
book ; told me Cawthorne said he would have given 
Lady Dacre ;i^ 1,000 for it if she had come to him ; not 
true. It is said after this success, but may be of use 
for the next, if Bcntley should not be handsome. 
Cawthorne says B. has used you ill. But I do not 
mind iiim, I mind Murray. So your dinner went well. 
What you say of Derings true ; what an eye you have 
for a fellow creature ! Take care, folks will grow afraid 
of you. Keep it all as snug as a bug in a rug. 1 shall 
close with Bessy Bulteel's maid; I fell in love with her 
manner. White is quite piajio—bitcv bit, evidently. 
1 ratlu-r dread a nice young creature being initiated 
in all the concerns of such an old slut ; 1 am not a very 
nasty old slut neither, as old sluts go 


Lady Gcorgiana Grey to Mrs. Sullivan 

Downing Street, 
Sunday, Jtifiuary 23, 1833. 

My Dear Arabella, 

You must forgive me ; somehow I have never 
found the moment when I could sit down comfortably 
and have a bit of gossip with you ; but 1 do want very 
much to congratulate you on the success of your book, 
which appears to me complete, and must gratify your 
vanity as an author and, 1 hope, give you a good opinion 
of the sincerity and judgment of your friends. 1 wish 
you joy with all my heart, and I only regret, now it is 
so admired, that you should not have given your name. 
I send you the remarks which I have cut out from 
The Spectator, The Courier, and The Town. 1 have 
seen few people since 1 have been here, excepting the 
diplomatists, who read too many despatches and write 
too many protocols to have time to amuse themselves 
with any reading of a more entertaining and, I think 
I might add, more useful nature. Poor wretches ! 

My own family I told you before were delighted, 
and all down to William cried bitterly over " Ellen 
Wareham." ... I have sent it down to Mama. . . . 

I wish I had some news to tell you, but 1 have none, 
although I sat by Talleyrand at dinner yesterday. It is 
not his agreeable moment, for he is always too much 
occupied with his food to think much of his neighbour. 
I have lately been performing penance in the shape of 
diplomatic dinners ; they are all over now, I am glad to 
say, except our own next Tuesday, which I think an 
unnecessary affair in 'Mama's absence — it will be very 
disagreeable to me. . . . My love to all. 

Yours affectionately, 

G. Grey, 

Rev. Sydney Smith to Lady Dacre 

Combe Florey, Taunton, 
February 6, 1833. 

Dear Lady Dacre, 

1 am always glad when a clever book has been 
written ; not only because it pleases me, but because 
it is a new triumph for Brains. 1 have had very great 
pleasure in reading the stories ; it is very difficult to say 


82 SYDNEY SMITH [1833 

what they are made of, but they are ver}^ agreeable, and 
1 beg for more. There is only one I dislike, it is too 
innocent for me — and yet I consider myself as a very 
innocent person, I never read any stories which 
had so much the manners and conversation of real 
Life ; all aim at it, none have ever succeeded so well. 
I always write to everybody who publishes a book that 
gives me pleasure — so excuse me and believe me, dear 
Lady Dacre, 

Ever sincerely yours, 

Sydney Smith. 


Birth of Frank — Death of Bertram — Birth of Harry — Lady Grey 
"To her nieces" — Death of Mr. Huskisson — Mr. I>obus .Smith 
— His letters to Lady Dacre — Mr. Sullivan offered the living of 
Fulham — Lady Grey " To her nieces" — The fire at Hatfield House 
— Lord Dacre to Lady G. Grey — Miss Mitford's Letters to Lady 

[On May 31, 1834, after an interval of six years, 
another son was born to Mr, and Mrs. Sullivan, and 
baptized Francis William. While Mrs. Sullivan was 
still in Bolton Street, where a house had been taken for 
her confinement, Bertram was taken ill with scarlet 
fever, and died in July. He was a peculiarly attractive 
and beautiful child, and his mother seems to have never 
really recovered health and spirits after his death. In 
the following year, Henry Eden, the youngest child, 
was born.] 

I do not know when my parents moved to the 
Hoo, but they were domiciled there while waiting for 
Kimpton Vicarage to be vacant, and while the house, 
etc., were put in order. I fancy I remember moving to 
Kimpton, but I cannot say what year this took place : 
it can, however, be easily ascertained, and I should 
then know whether my impression, that I got inside 
the kitchen screen and lay down warm and comfortable 
on tlie lower shelf, is a possible fact or an impossible 
fiction. A great deal had to be done to the house. 
The present drawing-room was then unused, being 



thought too big ; and the only living room was the 
dining-room, then much smaller, a passage between it 
and the drawing-room being done away with in the 
alterations. The stables were also altered and made 
to face to the north instead of to the south, so that the 
cleaning of horses and carriages need not take place 
exactly under the dining-room windows. The garden 
and the approach were also changed, and I believe the 
first year the garden was rather peculiar, having been 
sown with what seeds came most easily to hand, the 
consequence being a mass of nasturtiums and the effect 

When we first went to the Vicarage, the nurseries 
were two rooms at the top of the house, with dormer 
windows and walls sloping to the ceiling ; one of these 
rooms was partitioned, and in these three rooms we 
four — Brand, myself, Gertrude, and Bertram — were 
brought up, to be followed, after an interval of about 
six years, by Frank and Harry. Bertram was a beautiful 
boy and the apple of our eyes. He got scarlet fever 
while we were in London for my mother's confinement, 
and was brought home only to die. This is the first 
sorrow I can call to mind, and it went hard with my 
mother, who was only just recovering after the birth 
of my brother Frank. 

It amuses me to recall the daily routine of our life 
during those early days. We had no governess, except 
a nursery governess for a short time, yet our mother 
taught us everything, even learning to read music her- 
self that she might teach us the pianoforte. We had 
music-lessons and dancing-lessons whenever an oppor- 
tunity offered : the first from an organist at Luton, 
the second from a dancing-master who came over 
once a week to the school at Whcathampstcad kept by 
Mr. Douton (the house is now transformed into Lord 


Cavan's country house), at which my brother Brand 
was being educated. The best dancers among the boys 
were allowed to be the partners of the young ladies, 
the others had to be contented with one of their school- 
fellows decorated with a bit of ribbon round the arm. 
As we grew older these lessons were supplemented by 
masters in London, my sister and I being taken in 
turn by my granny, when they went to London for the 
meeting of Parliament, and remaining with her for 
several weeks. 

It is wonderful that my mother should have found 
time to attend to her parisli duties, to be a devoted wife 
and daughter, to write her stories, and to educate her 
daughters. We used to begin at 7.30 a.m. by reading 
to her while she was in bed till 8 a.m., when we had 
our breakfast : then at 8.30 one of us would go to her 
and read when she was dressing — I remember reading 
to her Clarendon's " History of the Rebellion " — while 
the other went to my father and worked away at 
arithmetic, finally arriving at a little bit of algebra and 
Euclid. At nine came prayers and breakfast for the 
parents, while we ran wild till eleven o'clock, being 
allowed to go out by ourselves and do anything we 
liked. This liberty we availed ourselves of thoroughly, 
climbing trees, getting to the top of haystacks and 
sliding down, much to the detriment of the thatch, 
helping or hindering the gardener, and pursuing the 
pigs at the farm with darts, so that the old farmer, 
Tom Young, who was very fond of us, was obliged to 
lodge a formal complaint that if we went on, the pigs' 
fat would be turned to "ile." We were very fond of 
building houses with hurdles and straw, also fancying 
ourselves the Swiss Family Robinson and living up in 
a tree. These were merry times of fun and mischief, 
but at eleven o'clock we were bound to return tidy and 


clean and resume lessons steadily up to one o'clock, 
the nursery dinner hour. 

We had not many lessons till tea-time, after which 
we made out our French and Italian exercises in the 
nursery and learned our lessons for the next day, 
which done we came downstairs to the drawing-room 
for the rest of the afternoon. Dinner in those days 
was much earlier than now : I can remember it at 6.30, 
then 7 o'clock, while 7.30 was thought quite late. 
While dinner went on, we finished whatever lessons 
we had on hand, and then came to dessert, after which 
was a very happy hour till bed-time came at 8.30, or 
9 o'clock as we grew older. In those evenings there 
were various games, such as Congloms or Bout-rimes, 
or a book read aloud by my father while we worked. 

Ours was a very happy childhood ; nowadays, I 
suppose, it would be thought impossible to get on 
without a schoolroom, but we had none. When we 
were not in the drawing-room, or out of doors by our- 
selves, we were in the nursery. There was a certain 
amount of strictness kept up, but we were always sure 
of being forgiven for any crime if we told the truth : 
the one unpardonable sin was falsehood, and we were 
believed and trusted quite 09 Dr. Arnold's principle. 
I think it is permissible for me to say, at this distance 
of time, that I never betrayed the trust reposed in me ; 
one thing that left an indelible mark on my memory 
was hearing my father, when we were being questioned 
as to some doubtful accusation, say aside to my mother, 
referring to me: "Oh, if she says so, it's all right; 
there need be no further question. She is as true as 
the Gospel." I was not meant to liear this, but having 
heard it I don't think anything could liavc made me 
fail to justify such belief 

I remember an incident which seemed to me, then 


probably eleven, of very tragic complexion. There was 
a vehicle, corresponding with the latter-day perambu- 
lator, in which Baby Frank was wont to take his airing. 
It was discovered that the machine was broken, and a 
groom declared that he had seen me and my sister 
dragging each other up and down in it through the 
coach-house and yard. This we indignantly denied, 
but somehow or other we found we were not believed, 
and that there were some doubts as to whether George 
would maintain his assertion unless there was some 
truth in it. We were deeply wounded when we found 
that our word was doubted, but determined to carry 
the matter with a high hand, and to show by our 
perfect insouciance that " our withers were unwrung," 
solacing ourselves by writing in our copy-books, 
" George is a liar," in every variety of caligraphy, 
especially beginning very small and expanding to a 
gigantic " liar." It is unnecessary to say that the 
groom's name was George. 

It chanced that my mother was not well at the time 
and made herself very unhappy by thinking that, as we 
had done this wrong deed and continued to brazen it 
out, we were becoming hardened little sinners. One 
day, after morning prayers, she burst into tears, and to 
our great consternation we found that this was the 
reason. My father too was greatly distressed, and 
proceeded to question us each singly and seriously, 
comparing our separate independent statements, and, 
on finding that they agreed entirely, he fully acquitted 
us and desired that we should think no more of this 
affair. So peace and happiness were restored, and 
George vanished from the scene soon afterwards. 

The Hoo is two miles from the Vicarage, the village 
lying half-way between the two. (The Vicarage that 
I speak of is now replaced by a small house close to 

the church, more suitable in size to the value of the 
living, and closer to the schools and church, the old 
house being sold, and its name changed to Kimpton 
Grange.) Hardly a day passed without communication 
with the Hoo. In the first place our letters came and 
went from thence, and there was always a note 
arranging some plan for the day ; then my granny 
generally drove herself down in the course of the 
morning in a little two-wheeled gig called " the Den- 
net," a name I never heard before or since, drawn by 
a fat, clever, cross pony called Kate, which passed 
its life pretty much upon those two miles of road. 
Then there were meetings on horseback in the after- 
noon, my granny riding very much in those early 
days, and I being mounted on a pony at five years 
old and following in her steps. She was a most 
fearless and beautiful rider, which in those days was 
a comparatively rare accomplishment. Her hand upon 
a horse was perfect ; she could ride her favourite 
Greybeard with a snaffle, while he ran away with 
strong but rougher riders. 

Many times, on an old hunter called Slobberchops, 
my granny would sit with her arms folded, giving up 
the guidance of the animal to me on my pony cantering 
by the side. I had a beautiful black pony called 
Peter, rather wilful, and sometimes quite as much as 
I could manage ; but we got on famously together. 
I had a sufficient number of falls, but loved riding 
none the less. The only thing I did not like was 
being sent off to show the pony's action by galloping 
round the cedar-trees before what was then the front 
door at the Hoo, just as people were assembling to 
start on their rides or drives. Peter hated being 
taken away from his friends, and was almost sure 
to be a httlc restive, rearing and kicking after a 

**^-^' ^w^^ 



''■ s 


fashion which left me sometimes doubtful as to which 
was going to be master. I was always glad when 
that ordeal was over. 

Besides the daily meetings, there were very constant 
dinings at the Hoo. These went on after we were 
grown up, and the van was in constant requisition. 
This vehicle was before the inventions of broughams 
and clarences, and was a two-wheeled covered cart, 
with a door opening at the back, and thick curtains 
hanging down between the driver's seat and the two 
side seats upon which we sat. This took us all to 
church on wet days, and the tradition was that when 
the van was first instituted and people were disposed 
a little to despise it, old Lady Salisbury (who was 
afterwards burned in Hatfield House, and was one 
of the magnates of the county), when staying at the 
Hoo, announced at breakfast that she was going to 
church in Mr. Sullivan's van. It accordingly came 
round, and into it she was duly put by attendant 
footmen. No one " sniffed " at the vehicle after that. 

I remember also hearing the death of Mr. Huskisson 
spoken of: this was in September 1830, at the 
opening of the Liverpool and Manchester Railway. 
The Duke of Wellington, Lord Dacre, and my grand- 
mother were of the party, and many others. The 
train stopped for some reason, and some of the gentle- 
men got out to see what was happening— Lord Dacre 
and Mr. Huskisson among the rest. They were 
standing together on the line when it was announced 
that a train was coming up. Lord Dacre went back 
to his own train, Mr. Huskisson went off the line to 
the other side; but seeing, a ditch full of water, 
though not deep, hesitated and went back, tried to 
cross the line in front of the coming train, was 
knocked down, and his leg (I think) fearfully crushed. 


Both were wearing white hats, and the first im- 
pression was that Lord Dacre had been killed. I 
remember my grandmother saying what a terrible 
shock this accident gave to every one, and the sad 
discussion that followed as to what should be done. 
The Duke of Wellington was then Prime Minister, 
and very unpopular in the manufacturing districts, 
and there was great uneasiness as to the way the 
crowds of people, who were awaiting the arrival of 
the train, might behave if they were disappointed. 
The Duke put himself into the hands of those who 
knew the feeling of the country best, and it was 
decided that they must go on as if nothing had 

Anything so melancholy as the arrival in the town, 
swarming with people on the walls and housetops, 
and full of excitement and pleasure, with the con- 
sciousness that their friend was left behind, dying 
and in agony, my grandmother said could not be 

Lady Dacre had been persuaded to print privately 
some of her translations from the Italian, and was 
much occupied with this work in 1834. She corre- 
sponded with Mr. Bobus Smith on this and other 
subjects, and some of his letters will be found inte- 
resting ; but Lady Dacre's are unfortunately not 
forthcoming. "Bobus" Smith, as he was always 
called, was much less known to the world than his 
brother Sydney ; but I have often heard Lord Dacre, 
who was an early friend of his, say that he considered 
him much the superior man — a man of great power 
and of a very high type. The loss of a favourite 
son was, I always understood, the cause of his retiring 
from pubhc life and from society, and when to this 
was joined bad health, it was only with difficulty he 

i834] BOBUS SMITH 91 

was persuaded to come to the lioo, where he was a 
valued and favourite guest. 

He was a good ItaHan scholar, and was much 
interested in Lady Dacre's translations, and a corre- 
spondence was carried on between the two which 
would hardly interest people now. Italian is much 
less read than it was at that time, German having 
become so much more the ubbligato language. It 
must be confessed, too, that there is more to be read 
of general interest, and especially of what interests in 
these days, in German than in Italian. This corre- 
spondence, which originated in their common interest 
in Petrarch, was continued until Mr. Smith's death, 
and I think some extracts may be considered worth 
making. It is unfortunate that only one side of the 
correspondence is extant, the other, I suppose, having 
been destroyed. The first letter I possess is dated 
August 27, 1834. It refers evidently to a sonnet, 
" Padre del Ciel," Part I. Sonnet 40, which Lady 
Dacre had translated, and, she thought, lost in some 

I am very much amused at your difficulties about 
the sonnet, which has been in my possession all the 
time — of your own giving; as I should have been 
entitled to my copy at all events, I am almost tempted 
to regret it did not fall to some young Haberdasher. 
It would have made him so happy, he would have been 
quite sure it had been left on purpose ; that he was the 
" too lovely fair one," and " the Cruel Foe," neither 
the devil nor Cupid would have had any chance with 
him. The "Strong Entanglement" would have been, 
of course, a figure he was used to, the only puzzle 
would have been that you were sighing eleven years 
for a young gentleman hardly twenty. 

In a subsequent letter from London, he says : 

I have brought the alterations, but left the text 
behind me at Cheam, at least either that or I have 


put it in the most dangerous of all Repositories, a safe 
place, for I cannot find it where it ought to be, and I 
have no Haberdasher's shop to resort to, etc., etc. It 
does not signify talking, papers do, beyond doubt, creep 
away and hide themselves, and after a time come back 
to their places. 

The following letter refers to the occasion when the 
King, without any previous warning, dismissed Lord 
Melbourne and made the Duke of Wellington Prime 
Minister, with the offices of Home, P'oreign, and 
Colonial Secretary. These offices he held for a 
month, till Sir Robert Peel's return from Italy. 

November 21, 1834. 

This is a bold experiment of the Duke's, but he can 
never be mad enough to dream of the old Tory times 
again. I suppose he means to take up the Whig cards 
and play the reforming games, which, to say truth, he 
cannot well play worse than they have been played 
the last six months. His friends call him a straight- 
forward man ; for no reason whatever I could see 
but the knack he has of turning round sharp upon 
occasions. He has made a political maxim of one of 
the rudiments of his military education, " To the 
right about face," and something of that sort he must 
do now. 

Melbourne is the only man whom I, and I think 
everybody, feels to be raised by the way he took hold 
and parted with power. I think we shall die in our 
beds still, but if we do, it will be owing to the good 
sense of the governed, not of the governors : such a 
large proportion of our people have something to 

The canzone " Quando il soave mio fido conforto " 
(Part II. c. 6) was now the subject of correspondence, 
and I must copy the final verdict. Mr. Smith writes : 

1 cannot swallow toys ; perhaps it is because I have 
before my eyes at the moment two dragoons without 


heads, a dog that squeaks, a doll with one eye, and a 
whole collection of kitchen furniture, part of the stock 
of my grandchildren. ... 1 agree that the flying and 
weighing are not quite so confounded as to make what 
is called a mixed metaphor, but the two operations to 
be performed by the same person at the same time- 
savours a little too much of the Flying Grocer. . . . 
jjut after all, I must say, take you care how you touch 
that canzone. You may rest your fame upon it, you 
have never done better. Mr. ranizzi's selection seems 
to me as good as could have been made. I hope you 
carry his suggestion into effect. What can be more 
idle than to talk of " an idle pursuit at your age." 
You will, of course, understand that 1 protest against 
the fact, and only admit it for the sake of argument ; 
but if you zucrc old, is it not just a thing to thank 
heaven for, that it has preserved to you a talent 
which is apt to fall off, and a strong interest in things 
not merely harmless, but beautiful and capable of 
giving great pleasure ? A fig for all that — 'pass we 
to more serious subjects. Here am I laid up with 
the gout, regularly and formally laid up, and no 
Mrs. Sullivan; though I told her I could not be sure 
beyond November. You will say I may read her over 
again ; but 1 have read her over again, and the worst 
of it is, it has spoilt me for reading half a hundred 
other volumes which might have gone down very 
well but for her. Do tell her, with my respects, if she 
has any conscience, I shall expect to see in the papers 
forthwith " In three volumes, etc., etc." 

The gout, bad as it was, did not diminish the 
pleasant tone of Mr. Smith's letters. He writes on 
December 27, 1834 : 

Thanks, dear Lady Dacre, for your kind inquiries. 
The gout has been over me body and soul as usual. 
1 say body and soul, because pain is not the only Imp 
of the worst that follows in its train. It is gone, 
however, and I am gradually getting rid of its effects — 
lameness, etc. 1 was afraid County politics would do 
Lord Dacre no good, he had better have had a bit of 
the gout, bad as it is. Thank you for leaving out 


Christmas compliments. I have always hated Christ- 
mas in my best days. I care little for mince-pies, and 
what else is there but yellow fogs and dull gluttony 
with cousins of all sorts and sizes. 

March 5. — We have not had " Cosa bella mortal ^ " 
yet, though we are nearer to it, but what is it that 
makes the expression so touching? It is not that 
beauty passes away, but that the thing that is beautiful 
passeth away and abideth not. You may feel the way 
to express in two words not only the transitory nature 
of beauty, but the sad condition of humanity, which 
seems to mark what is fair for the earliest destruction. 
Plnely expressed in good old French before the French 
left off poetry : 

"File etait de ce monde, ou les plus belles choses 
Ont le pire destin 
Ft rose, elle a vecu ce que vivent les roses 
L'espace d'un matin.^ " 

You see, my dear lady, you have raised up a per- 
emptory and presuming censor. Your good nature in 
bearing with my freedom is far beyond that you are 
pleased to ascribe to me. I think honestly of your 
translations that they are much too beautiful not to be 
found fault with. Your prose, kind and friendly as it 
is, 1 have certainly no disposition to criticise. I rejoice 
1 have been the means of reviving your inclination to 
do what you do so well, and I hope we shall both be 
inclined to make up for lost time in our late acquaint- 
ance ; that it is a late one, as I cannot resist believing 
what you say, lies, I am afraid, at my door. I have 
nothing to plead but an odd nature made up of 
indolence, contentment at home, and a distaste for 
the forms of society, which has made me shrink from 
much intercourse with old friends, though without 
lessening my regard for them. 

Having received a pressing invitation to the Hoo, 
Mr. Smith writes March 11, 1835: 

• [.Sonnet 210, " Chi viiol veicler," not printed.] 

'' [" Consolation a M. du Pciier " Ijy Fran(;ois de IVlulhcibc.J 


In answer to the temptations your generous kind- 
ness holds out to me, 1 am afraid I must refer to the 
catalogue of my infirmities set forth in my last— what 
can I say more ? . . . The habits have grown upon 
me in the midst of much happiness and much 
unhappincss ; they have had the best of my life, and 
I have no power to scuffle with them, if it were 
worth while, for the little bit that is left. And yet, my 
dear Lady, it shall go hard, but I shall come and see 
you before the summer is over, if my old tub and I 
keep on our wheels. The quatrain is from Malherbe, 
not an epitaph, but some charming consolatory verses 
to a friend on the loss of his daughter. I'hese stand 
very much out from the rest, which are not remark- 
able, except two simple lines at the end, which have 
long stuck to my memory as vehicles of the truest of 
all truths, " Vouloir ce que Dieu veut est la seule 
science. Qui nous met en repos." 

I recorrTmend these to my old friend in his rnoments 
of depression, and to you when Petrarch is over, 
and the worries of life return upon you. 

April 29. — . . . You are quite wrong about second 
childhood. There is no such thing ; the first goes 
through with us — we only change our toys: dolls, tops, 
loves, friendships, books, money, power, Petrarch, 
all fallace ciance, make-believe and bustle. Grand- 
children are the only wise. "All life is a scene and a 
game— either learn to play at it, putting off serious- 
ness or suffer its pains " : two tolerable Greek lines, 
which I make over to you to be turned into two good 
English ones. I am very glad you are coming to 
town ; in no place will sense and moderation be more 
wanted than in the House of Lords this year, and 
my old friend will bring up with him a great deal 
of both those valuable commodities. I hate vulgar 
politics about Elections, etc., and keep as much aloof 
from them as I can, but there are political questions 
stirring now which may engage the thoughts of any 
man who wishes well to the peace of his country, and 
through that to the peace of the world; on none of 
them does more depend than on the manner in which 
the House of Lords takes its assicttc under the change 
of power which has been effected. However, I ought 
to beg your pardon for these fariboles after Petrarch. 


To another attempt to persuade him to go to the 
Hoo, Mr. Smith writes July 16, 1835 : 

You have, I fear, a very imperfect notion of the 
operation required to turn an idle old fellow out of 
his way, or the innumerable engagements of a man 
who lives with nobody. I am in the height of 
my roses and lilies at Cheam, the result of many 
years' wisdom and foresight ; coming out every 
day, I hobble among them, applauding myself with 
nobody to contradict me. I have no way of breaking 
out of this fascination but by telling myself that it is all 
fudge, and if I do, what's to become of me for the five 
or six mortal years that have still to run out ? These 
are my irrefragable reasons against next Saturday, 
but I have laid a long train for bringing about my 
visit, though I cannot yet quite say when. My young 
ones, who were very much gratified with your kind 
proposal, will answer for themselves ; they are, I 
conclude, deep in balls, concerts, dinners, at homes, 
etc., etc. — flowers of another sort, less fragrant than 
mine, to say nothing of that pestilent bed of weeds, 
the House of Commons. Sydney is coming to dine 
with me to-day, when I will deliver your message. 
I have been reading Mrs. Norton ; she has not the 
least chance with Mrs. Sullivan either in design or 

Lady Dacre had apparently been going through a 
phase of discouragement as to the use of any more 
translating, eliciting the following remonstrance : 

1 cannot say much for the originality of your reasoning 
about Petrarch, It is neither more nor less, though 
it is not so well founded, as your grand-daughter's 
when she throws away her doll. A qnoi bo)i is a very 
wide question ; to what will it not apply ? I think, 
however, you might answer it as well as most people. 
If you succeeded in conveying from his own language, 
into yours, the express image of a very beautiful poet, 
you have done what is not every day's doing, I can 
tell you ; and why are you not to be fairly pleased 
with it, and take the public at their word, that they 


are pleased at it too. I agree with you there ought 
to be a limit, and if all you had done were got to- 
gether, there would be enough for a fair specimen of 
the best, and in Petrarch that is especially wanted ; 
for he is abominably tiresome in the sameness of the 
subject, and the repetition of the same concetti. 

Time is essential to Lord Dacre — time and the habit 
of finding himself safe and sound. Meanwhile 1 must 
not have him neglect my prescription of running 
down to see me now and then. Tell him Cheamistry 
is much better for him than physic. Why are you 
so glad that old Cobbett is dead ? He had ceased 
to be formidable as an instrument of mischief, 
and was surely a very amusing writer — by far the 
most extraordinary of self-made men, except Burns, 
and a real curiosity in the odd structure of his 

Lord Dacre's health at this time was a subject of 
some anxiety. He had had a fit of giddiness which 
he concluded to be apoplectic, and was very much 
depressed. The great object of his family and friends 
was to get him to occupy his mind and to see some 
society. It was this that induced Mr. Smith to over- 
come his habits, and to pay a visit to the Hoo. At 
this time Lord Dacre rode a great deal about his 
farms, and would not submit to being accompanied 
by a groom. As a compromise, it was decided that 
I, although only in my twelfth year, rode almost con- 
stantly with him, with instructions to gallop off for help 
if he fell off his horse in a fit. Needless to say the 
emergency never arrived, but 1 had many and most 
instructive rides with Lord Dacre. He talked to me 
a great deal and dubbed me his guardian, and himself 
my ward. If I had been his granddaughter ten 
times over, he could not have been kinder or taken 
more interest in my education and enjoyment. He 
used to read German with me, and interested himself 
always in my studies. 



Mr. Smith's next letter is of July 24 : 

I thought you and Petrarch would not be long 
before you made it up again. It is you, I must say, who 
have made the amende by translating very well for him 
a very poor sonnet. How can you bestow 3^ourself 
upon the bad ones instead of doing as you were bid, 
taking some of the beautiful passages from the "Trionfi," 
or those of the finest which are to be found up and 
down the sonnets, mixed with trash which might be 
thrown away. The thought of this " pommi ove'l 
sol " (Part I, Sonnet 113) is taken from Horace, who 
contents himself with saying gaily and shortly, whether 
he is at the pole or under the line, he shall always 
love Lalage, who smiles so sweetly and talks so 
prettily ; but it is weakened to nothing by this 
tnlitsiral amoroso, who vents his love like a teacher 
of the globes, takes you through all the degrees of 
the meridian, all the phenomena arising from the 
obliquity of the earth's axis, etc., etc. 

I rejoice at your account of Lord Dacre : to be 
bravely is just what he wants ; the whole secret 
lies in that. You do me but justice in believing that 
I should be at his beck whenever he wanted me in 
earnest. My regard for him is odohtstral, and of that 
sort which I believe I could carry from Baffin's Bay 
to Bencoolen, as little impaired as might be in such a 
voyage. . . . Meantime, our beauties are fading ; my 
lawn will be like a doormat to-morrow. Love of the 
country is not weatherproof, like Petrarch's. 

///// 31, 1835. 
In execution of your orders I went over the 
"Trionfi" the other day — I believe the first time 
these forty years — but I am sorry to say I did not 
find all the fine things 1 left there. These con- 
founded lustres, unlike their namesakes, make every- 
thing dim. I think the finest passage, beyond all 
question, is that you have chosen. 1 always had a 
fancy for the last lines of the " Trionfo d'Amore " : 

In somma so com'c incostantc e vaga, 
Timida ardita vita degli amanti, 
Ch'un poco dolce molto amaro appaga ; 
E so i costumi, i lor sospiri e i canti, 


E'l parlar rotto, e'l subito silenzio, 
E'l brcvissimo riso, c i liinghi pianti ; 
E qual e '1 mel temprato con I'assenzio.' 

Pray send me what 3''ou have clone, and if the 
thermometer ever gets lower, I will tell you what I 
think of them. Petrarch's repetitions are intolerable ; 
but you must not, 1 think, lay that fault of his on the 
poets of his age : it was the fault of his subject. 
Think what it was to be dittying the same goddess 
for one and twenty years — aye, twice that. Besides, 
lovers may say what they please ; there is hardly 
any other strong passion of such scanty eloquence 
as theirs. 

Cheam la Brulee, 
August 10, 1835. 

. . . A-propos of Panizzi, I hope you don't think I 
mean to derogate from him. 1 take him upon Lord 
Dacre's authority and yours to be a very able man ; 
but I must say I think he has a bad taste in printing, and 
further, that I had rather choose my own Petrarch 
than that he should choose him for me. Upon this 
last, however, I must qualif^^, because I admit that, in 
all languages, there is a fascination and a style of 
which no foreigner can be a perfect judge, and which 
may give a beauty to the poorest thoughts which 
he cannot pretend to feel. But if all Italy, including 
the Pope, were to tell me that the one or two sonnets, 
which he admires and I abuse, are not wretchedly 
poor in thought and substance, I should hold my 
own like a good Protestant. . . . 

You do me too much honour in supposing I have 
been petted all my life ; 1 have never had such good 

' Mrs. Hibbeit induced me to translate this " Trionfo," and I 
venture to transcribe the passage referred to : 

Alas, I know how exquisite, how vain, 

Of love the timid daring life, through years 

One dream of bliss repaying days of pain. 

I know the sighs, the songs, the joys, the fears, 

The eager broken words, the sudden pause, 

And the brief laughter, and the flowing tears, 

Which love, that rapturous agony, doth cause. 

B. C. S, 


luck, or ill luck — for it tends to make a fool of a man. 
My bad qualities have another origin ; I have given 
you the key to the small ones, the large ones I keep 
under a separate lock, an't please you. The sins 
which beset me are a hatred of trouble and a love of 
being alone, materials out of which I admit a very 
disagreeable fellow might be made, and therefore I do 
not give unlimited way to my own dear propensities, 
but compound, and halt, and shuffle between good and 
bad as most people do. . . . This day forty-three 
years ago, a day as hot as this, I was in the midst of 
the massacre at Paris — better conning Petrarch. 

The promised visit to the Hoo was now about to 
take place, and Mr. Smith writes September 10, 1835 : 

I rejoice to hear so good an account of your ex- 
pedition. Ships and chaises have no charms for me, 
but I believe they are very efficacious as doctor's stuff. 
I shall be as punctual as the Comet to my appoint- 
ment ; he is to be in the second week of October in the 
field — as the Astronomers have it — of the four wheels of 
Charles's Wain, and at the same period I propose to be 
visible to the naked eye in the same relation to the 
four wheels of my old tub on my way to the Hoo. 
The precise day of my PeriHooion (ask my lord what 
that is) will depend mainly on your ladyship. That 
is, in sublunary style, I shall hear from you as you 
draw nearer home, what day you are likely to arrive 
there, and then we can fix the day on which I will 
come to you. 

1 have laid the foundation for your design on Miss 
Fox. She received the intimation with great pleasure, 
and if it depended in any degree whatever upon her, 
I have no doubt of your success ; but alas ! it does 
not : the issue therefrom is quite uncertain, and all 1 
could do towards it is to exhort her to keep it a 
profound secret, for if it once gets wind, Lady 
Holland's health would be immediately and seriously 
affected by it. 

Miss Fox was sister to Lord Holland, and lived at 
Little Holland House, where many of those who 
frequented Holland House came. 1 think it is in 


Mr. Greville's Memoirs that Little Holland House is 
spoken of as a chapel of ease to the greater one, and 
the contrast in the nature of the two hostesses pro- 
bably made this a true verdict. 

Saba, Lady Holland, Sydney Smitli's daughter, 
writes of Miss Fox in the highest terms. Not only 
was she remarkable for her understanding, but for her 
simplicity and her indulgent kindness. 1 remember 
going to Little Holland House with my grandmother, 
and seeing a very gentle, kind-looking, grey-haired 
old lady, I fancy her friends were very anxious to 
preserve her from being absorbed by Lady Holland. 

Mr. Smith's visit to the Hoo proved a very success- 
ful one. He was accompanied by his son Vernon — 
afterwards Lord Lyveden — Mrs Vernon Smith, and two 
of his grandsons. After his return to London, he 
wrote, November 4, 1835 : 

No gout, no aches, no ailments of any sort ! My 
dear lady, such an account of an old fellow of 
sixty-five is not to be had for the asking. I have little 
else to send you but a chronicle of aches and pains, 
and am only just emerging from a fit of the gout 
which attacked me almost immediately after our very 
pleasant days at the Hoo; equally pleasant, I hope 
and believe, to three generations on both sides in their 
several ways. We have often talked of them, and 
never without a strong sense of your kindness and 
hospitality; if we had not counted upon it, we never 
should have agreed to invade you in such force- — but 
we were not wrong ! Never seek for a reason why 
you should write to me. I beseech you to reserve all 
your ingenuity to find reasons to know why I am so 
long in answering, when (as I surely shall) I relapse 
altogether into my inveterate habits of agraphy. I 
beg pardon for a Greek word, but we have none in 
English that would do half so well. I will, however, 
tell you beforehand that there will hardly be any 
reason but sheer idleness, the pure enjoyment of 
which is known to few, and to none who have not left 


off letter-writing. I can give you many deep reasons 
for this ; but to put it shortly and comprehensively : 
''^Juga dempsi Bobus fatigatis."^ I made that motto 
for myself at sixty, and it suits me admirably. Mr. 
Sullivan will construe it for you if your Latin fails. . . . 
I hope to be in town in a very few days after you are 
there, when I shall not wait to be found out at Savile 
Row. I want to see both you and my lord and Mr. 
and Mrs. Sullivan, but I want especially to have a talk 
or two with my lord about public affairs, so far as 
they threaten to interfere with private affairs, in 
which sense alone I care a farthing about them, but 
this violent itch for organic changes, which possesses 
us, can never be an indifferent thing to a man who 
wants to die quietly in his bed. If it were not that I 
hoped to see him so soon (he comes up with you I 
take for granted), I believe I shall be almost active 
enough to write to him. 

September 21, 1835 

You got, of course, half a pack of cards, which 
I left in Chesterfield Street ; indeed, Mrs. Sullivan 
will do me the justice to bear witness what an 
importunate visitor I am. Now for letters — I hope 
you will never check yourself in writing for lack 
of Petrarch. He was very well as a gentleman 
usher, but I take it we are old friends now ; and I do 
assure you it will always give me great pleasure 
to hear from you — with only one drawback, that it 
seems to involve some obligation to answer. I do 
not, however, despair of getting over that in time, 
and then the satisfaction will be without alloy. I will, 
however, do what I can to quarrel with 3'ou outright 
if you fly from your word about Petrarch. Have I 
sat awake so many after-dinners in this very armchair 
grinding colours for you, and now you will not 
exhibit the y)icturcs. Take care what you are about, 
or rather what you are not about. I believe I have 
copies of most of them, and with a very little provo- 
cation would print them in your name and not a la 
Panizzi. . . . 

' [" I have taken off the yoke from the tired oxen"; also, " I, Bobus, 
have removed the yoke from the weary."] 


The following letter refers to the dedication of 
the " Translations from Petrarch "— '* To my Grand- 
children " — and to some poems of Miss Barrett's. 

I like your preface very much, my dear lady. The 
idea of such a dedication is very pretty, and execution 
very good. ... I return, with many thanks, the Book 
of Wonders 3'ou entrusted to me ; and albeit unused to 
the wondering mood, I confess I am very much struck 
with the proof of power in a person so young. She is 
in some danger, I think, of being lured into the 
" Stravaganza " school, which would be a great pity, 
for she is fitted for much better company. I am 
something like poor Prometheus ; I cannot for the life 
of me worship the new gods — Wordsworth, Victor 
Hugo, etc. 

Lord and Lady Dacre had been to Ireland. Mr. 
Smith speaks in one of his letters of the Irish " as a 
merry, murderous lot, who stir one's spirit both 
ways " ; and he writes to Lady Dacre on her return, 
October 5, 1836 : 

To-morrow is the very best day of the year for 
letter writing, my dear lady. I have written more 
letters to-morrow than on any other ten days — a 
dozen at least, by the way, to you, of which you have 
taken no more notice than if they had never been 
received. As you are so graceless, I must needs see 
what I can do by writing to-day, though that again is 
generally the day that 1 have most to do and least to 
say. However, I happen this time to have a little 
topic. My worthy Iriend, Mr. Wilding, upon the 
skirts of whose cassock I shall go to Heaven (if at all), 
has consulted me about a self-supporting Dispensary 
for the Poor, which he is very anxious to get estab- 
lished. I told him that two of the best persons I 
knew — Mr. and Mrs. SuUiv^an— had one established, for 
some time in their parish, upon the scale of a penny a 
week (which was that adopted in some of the parishes 
near us), with some variations according to the age 
and number of children, etc., and that I would ask 
them to furnish me with their plan. Now, my dear 


lad}'', will 3'ou or will Mrs. Sullivan have the goodness 
to give me a sketch, and to tell me how the machine 
works. I should think very much depended on 
having a good person to take the trouble of receiving 
the pa3'ments. Are they made weekly, and with any 
and what degree of allowance for irregularit}' ? This 
is a part of the apparatus we shall, I think, have most 
difficult}' in finding, for it should be a Lady and a rare 

The Poor Law Commissioners, I see, have con- 
cocted a plan, but it does not appear to me to be so 
simple as Mr. Sullivan's. . . . Meanwhile, what has 
become of "Petrarch?" Printers seem as eternal as 
bricklayers. What an unconscionable letter ! it makes 
me yawn to look at it. God bless you, my dear lady, 
while I am yet awake. 

October 30, 1836. 

I am just returned from my Somersetshire expedi- 
tion, and welcomed home by such an infernal end of 
October as would have better suited that most doleful 
of all seasons, a merry Christmas ! I ought to be 
thankful that I did not meet this snow on Salisbury 
Plain, where, by the bye, I saw an amusing instance 
of our universal advancement — the shepherds with 
umbrellas ! 

You know, indeed I suppose it is by this time 
publicly known, that I carried off Miss Fox with me 
in spite of all machinations to prevent it. 1 took the 
gout down in my pocket : it gave me warning only 
the night before I was to start ; and, being determined 
that it should not be said 1 was baffled, oft' I went with 
it, trusting to courage and to colchicum ; and here I am 
again, having driven off the enemy, but for how long 
remains to be seen. No matter; for an old worn-out 
fellow, life is but a little parcel of to-days and to- 
morrows, the first for fiddle-faddles, and the last for 
writing letters. Now to business ! I am quite for 
the portrait to usher in " Petrarch," and do not very 
much quarrel with the delay, as it tides over the 
deadest time of the year, and we shall play to full 
houses. Your long vista of visitors and visitations 
makes me giddy. I cannot peer so far into futurity 
as to form any notion how or where, or what I shall 


be, when all that you have in view to do and to suffer 
shall be accomplished. Multitudinous forms of un- 
known persons and places flit before my eyes and 
mingle with the images of those for whom I have a 
great regard. Let all this wait till a little time has 
disentangled it, and then . . . 

The "Translations from Petrarch" were at last out 
of the printer's hands, and the following letter was 
written from Cheam, November 8, 1836: 

I found the book on my return to London last week, 
m}^ dear lady. I brought it down here with me, and 
read it over again all through ; and w^hile my admira- 
tion is too strong for my laziness, I must once more 
say " Thank you" for the pleasure you have given me. 
Petrarch is admirably rendered. I really know of no 
instance in which the image of a great poet is so 
happily transferred into another language: no instance, 
I mean, in length as opposed to short passages. . . , 
God bless you, I am, yours ever, 

R. S. 

In January 1834 Lord Grey offered Mr. Sullivan 
the living of Fulham, writing the following letter to 
Lord Dacre : 


Downing Street, 
Jamiary 4, 1834. 

My dear Lord Dacre, 

A stall has lately become vacant at Canterbury, 
for which Mr. Wood applied to be allowed to exchange 
the living which he now holds at Fulham. This appli- 
cation, supported by powerful recommendations, his 
own high character in the Church, and his recent 
affliction (he lost lately three daughters by the scarlet 
fever — the eldest eighteen — in four days), which made 
him desirous of removing from the scene of his 
calamity, I found it impossible to resist. 

It was my intention to offer the living of Fulham to 
Mr. Sullivan, which thus fi:ills to the disposal of the 
Crown. But the King has reminded me of his anxiety 


to give some preferment to Mr. Moor, brother of Lord 
Mount Cashel, and brother-in-law of the late Lord 
Clinton ; but for whom a smaller provision than 
that which would be obtained by his appointment 
to Fulham, would be sufficient. What 1 wish to 
learn from you therefore is, first, whether the living 
of Fulham would be acceptable to Mr. Sullivan ; and 
next, whether in that case you have any objection to 
let Mr. Moor succeed him at Kimpton. 

The living of Fulham is worth, the Bishop informs 
me, at least ;^i,ooo, if not ;^i,20o per annum, even after 
its separation Irom Hammersmith, which is intended 
to be a part of the present arrangement. It would 
indeed be worth more, if the tithes, which chiefly 
proceed from the market gardens, were collected at 
anything like their fair value. I know the comfort 
which you and Lady Dacre must derive from having 
Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan established so near you, and 
fear that they might be unwilling to give up Kimpton 
on this account ; but, on the other hand, it occurred to 
me that the value of the living, favourable situation 
for the occasion of a growing family, its facility to 
London (where you generally are during the winter 
months), and the power of visiting you in the summer, 
might afford inducements to the acceptance of an offer, 
dictated by the sincere regard I feel both for you and 
Lady Dacre, as well as for Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan, and 
a sincere desire to promote what might be for their 
advantage. I should add that though I know nothing 
personally of Mr. Moor, his own connections as well 
as those of his wife, and the society in which he has 
lived, afford a presumption that he might not be an 
unpleasant neighbour. 

You will ask, perhaps, why Mr. Moor, in consequence 
of the King's desire, is not appointed at once to Fulham. 
To this my answer is, that considering the important 
duties of such a parish, I could not take upon myself 
the responsibility of appointing any one of whose 
fitness 1 should not have the same assurance that I 
have of Mr. vSullivan's. I also feel it to be necessary, 
considering that the Bishop's residence is at Fulham, 
that the living should not be given to a person with 
whom he would not be satisfied. To explain this 
matter more fully, I enclose two letters from the 
King and from the Bishop on the subject, the com- 


munication of which must be considered as strictly 
contidential. To exphiin them, 1 should tell you that 
I have mentioned Mr. Sullivan to the Bishop as the 
person whom 1 should recommend for the living, and 
that upon the King writing to me about Mr. Moor, I 
had asked him whether taking himself the appointment 
to Fulham, there was any other preferment in his 
diocese which he could give to Mr. Moor. You will 
see from the King's letter that an inferior appointment 
would satisfy him for Mr. Moor, and I have no doubt 
that he would be quite content with Kimpton, if it is 
worth ^400 or £soo a year. 

I hesitated at first whether I should propose this 
exchange to you, and I certainly should not have done 
so if it had been for a bargain in which 1 had myself 
any personal interest. But I have at last thought it 
best to place the whole matter fairly before you, in the 
confidence that in doing so you could suspect me of 
no motive but that of a sincere desire to procure for 
Mr. Sullivan a situation in the Church which might 
prove advantageous for the present, and what would 
probably lead to better things hereafter. Let me have 
an answer as soon as you can. In the meantime I shall 
not let anybody know that I have written to you on 
this subject, except Lady Grey and Georgiana. Give 
my best love to Lady Dacre. 

Ever most sincerely yours. 


Return the enclosed letters. 

Mr. Sullivan declined the living in the following 

letter : 

Jannary 6, 1834. 

My dear Lord Dacre, 

I cannot say how gratified 1 have been with the 
communication you have forwarded from Lord Grey, 
nor how grateful I am to him for his kind intentions 
towards me, and for his manner of speaking of me, but 
1 cannot hesitate for a moment as to declining the 
very valuable piece of preferment he offers me. 1 will 
not, to you, enlarge upon the love and affection I bear 
to you and Lady Dacre, and how very, very painful it 
would be to me to break up the present community of 


interests, which, I am willing to believe, contributes 
so largely to our mutual happiness. Neither will I 
recapitulate all I owe to you and her kindness, which 
binds me to you by every principle of honour, as \vell 
as affection. It is sufficient that I could never think 
of forcing upon you, as my successor in the Vicarage, 
a stranger — one who, however excellent a man he may 
be, would come in by contract, of right, without obliga- 
tion to you, and without regard for your tenantry, or 
attachment to the parish. You have been silent on 
these points, but I cannot overlook them. 

I w'rite this with a thorough knowledge of the present 
advantages and future prospects which the arrange- 
ment proposed by Lord Grey holds out, but I cannot 
consent to profit by them at so high a cost. Besides 
which — to say the truth — it would almost break my 
heart to leave Kimpton. I have acquired the con- 
fidence of my parishioners, and, in the acquiring of 
it, they have gained my affection. I have, too, from 
my connection with you, such a position among them, 
and such facilities for contributing to their advantage 
and improvement as I could hardly hope to have 

With regard to Fulham, I should have to succeed 
Mr. Wood, of whom I have always heard the highest 
character as a perfect parish priest ; and I feel, that 
although I should devote myself most conscientiously 
to my duties in that parish, yet a long time must 
elapse before I could possibly hold the same place 
with Mr. Wood in the esteem of the parishioners. 

Will 3^ou tell Lord Grey that I am most truly 
grateful to him for his proposal. I cannot say how 
gratified I am with his selecting me as a fit person 
to succeed Mr. Wood, which I consider a very high 
distinction. I shall never forget his kindness. 
Ever, my dear Lord Dacre, 

Most affectionately yours, 

Frederick Sullivan. 

I remember well the fire at Hatfield; it was in 
1835. I was twelve years old at the time. The news 
of the fire was brought from some one at the Hoo, 
and 1 always understood that Lord Dacre started off 


at once to see if he could be of any use ; but 1 am 
not sure of this. Anyway, we heard next morning 
that Lady Salisbury had been burned in the wing 
that was destroyed by fire. It was supposed that she 
had been reading the newspaper in her bedroom, and 
that the candles, having been set close by for her to 
see the small print, the paper had caught fire, and 
that she had been the victim before being able to 
give the alarm : she was very old and infirm. Nothing 
was ever found except, it was said, part of some 
artificial teeth with " gold fixings " ! 

The sensation in the county can be imagined. 
Hatfield House was the centre of all sorts of gatherings 
and gaieties, and the old marchioness was a well- 
known figure at the covert side, riding with a groom 
by her side, who, people said, got so eager in the 
chase that he encouraged his old mistress to come 
along and take leaps which were quite alarming, but 
which she was too blind to do more than acquiesce in. 

I saw her once on horseback when she was very 
old. She had ridden over to the Hoo from Hatfield, 
and it was my firm impression that she was tied on 
to her saddle ; but I believe that it was only a strap 
which held up some of the long, voluminous folds of 
the habit of the day, and kept it out of the mud. Her 
head-gear was a soft round cap, with a veil round it. 
One thing suggests another, and it may amuse you 
to hear what is told as the standing joke of the great 
county lady driving to the Hoo with her four horses — 
the postillions in well-fitting leathers and boots. They 
were caught in a sharp storm of rain, and the horses 
were put up. When the time came for going home, 
the carriage was duly ordered, but did not make its 
appearance. It was again asked for, and, there seeming 
to be some mysterious hitch, one of the gentlemen 


went out to investigate matters. It was found that the 
poor postilHons, having incautiously taken off their wet 
leather breeches, now found it impossible to struggle 
into them again, and were at their wits' ends to extem- 
porise any riding costumes for the journey home. 

One more story with regard to the fire. We girls — 
my sister and I — were nearl}^ the same age as the 
granddaughters of Lady Salisbury. We were told 
that they had gone to their father with all their little 
treasure in the way of money, and begged him to 
take it to help in rebuilding the portion of the house 
destroyed by the fire. I have never heard this 
fact alluded to since, but it made a great impression 
upon us at the time. 

Subsequently I came to know the younger one — 
afterwards Lady Blanche Balfour — very well, and had 
a great admiration and affection for her. We did 
not meet often after her marriage, but she was the 
most devoted wife and mother — her family, both sons 
and daughters, being all remarkable in their different 
ways, and doing infinite credit to her bringing up. 

The following poem was addressed to her by my 
grandmother in 1843: 

To Lady Blanche Cecil 

Maiden of noble birth and noble mien. 
On whose fair promise fancy loves to dwell ; 
Whose placid brow, so open and serene, 
The pure ingenuous mind portrays so well 
I'hat all, methinks, may trace and understand 
The characters there stamped by Nature's hand. 

As of light spring-tide cloud the shadowy form, 
Wafted by zephyr o'er the uplands stealing, 
Chased by the sunny gleam, so bright and warm, 
'ill' ajjproach of summer silently revealing. 
So varying hues Hit o'er thy pearly check 
And all youth's quick and gay emotions speak. 


Yet ever and anon of thy full eye 

The upward glance, with full inquiry fraught, 

Wears the expression of aspirings high, 

Of dauntless innocence, and holy thuLight, 

While memories sad and sweet enhance thy charms 

Till I could snatch thee to my aged arms. 

But reason points our paths — so opposite ! 
Thine, noble maiden, where before thee wait 
Life's joys and honours, and each young delight, 
Hope beckoning onwards thy light step elate! 
Mi)ic, to the grave leads down, and few and dark 
The days 1 yet thy bright career may mark. 

Lord Dacrc to Lady Gcorgina Grey 

The Hog, 

Tuesday, December %, 1835. 

My dear Lady Georgiana, 

. . . You will conceive how much we have all 
been shocked by the lamentable fate of poor dear old 
Lady Salisbury. On hearing of the fire, I started for 
Hatfield at tweh^e o'clock at night ; but on hearing of 
her destruction about a mile on this side of it, I had 
not energy to proceed ; and, as the fire was subdued, 
I returned home. Two days ago, Salisbury wrote me 
word that he totally despaired of finding any remains 
of the poor creature. They searched each side of the 
spot where she usually sat ; there was nothing but 
ashes, ashes, ashes ! Peace to them ! ! There never 
lived a more high-minded, kind-hearted, noble zvoman ! 
She was kind to me as any mother, and I had been 
correspondingly grateful and attached to her through 
more than a third of a century. 

You never saw anything or body so well as Battle. 
We were in town with her last week, and we expect 
her at Kimpton in the course of the next ; and when 
are we to expect you ? The House meets in February ; 
Lord Grey's presence will be required by his country. 
God alone knows what we are all to do ; we certainly 
can do nothing without Him. I have been engaged a 
good deal in awkward correspondence, originating in 
feelings of disappointment, not unaccompanied with 
alarm, which our present political position cannot but 


excite. If the Tories were less provoking and less 
detestable, they would receive strange adhesions. 

I wonder whether this day has been as cold and as 
damp and as disagreeable as it is here. We (wife and 
I) rode to Hitchin. She is delighted with her horse ; 
you will ride it ? — and if 3^ou will not, I have another 
new one, that I think will please you. When will you 
come and try him ? Pray remember me most kindly 
to Howick, and everybody and thing in the happy 
North, and believe me. 

Yours, most truly, 


To go back to our education. As I have said, my 
mother had studied music enough to be able to teach 
us ; and, of course, she also taught us French and 
Italian, both of which languages she knew thoroughly. 
We learnt German, which she did not know so well — 
not as a lesson, but for our own pleasure. I don't 
know how we should have fared had there been 
examinations in those days ; my impression is that 
1, at least, should have come to grief over historical 
facts and dates and the more technical routine of 
education, but as regards general information and 
scope of reading we should have come out very well. 
Living so much with grown-up people, and hearing 
a great deal about books and general literature, we 
naturally imbibed an interest in such matters. 

The death of my brother Bertram was, as I have 
said, the first sorrow I can remember. I do not think 
my mother ever recovered from it, and I have always 
imagined that my brother Frank's health suffered 
from being nursed by her during her bitter grief. 
Harry was born in 1835. 

The following letters from Miss Mitford are inte- 
resting chiefly on account of what she says anent her 
own powers of writing, and for the description she 
gives of l'^h/al)ctii Barrett Browning: 


Miss Mitford to Lady Dacre 

Three Mile Cross, 
June 6, 1836. 

I seize most gladly, my dear Lady Dacre, the 
opportunity of sending to your ladyship two books 
which you wish to see, since it allows me to express 
my unfeigned sense of your great kindness during 
your stay in town, a kindness which I can never cease 
to remember with gratitude and pride. You have 
afforded me the pleasure of seeing the glorious Joanna 
and others— whom to you I dare not name lest you 
should suspect me of flattery— sufficiently familiarly to 
give me the high gratification of liking the writers 
as much as I have admired the works. I think, 
generally, that the very highest are the simplest and 
the best. Talent may sometimes keep bad company, 
and be found in conjunction with unamiable qualities, 
but genius is pure and purifying, and is seldom mixed 
with more alloy than is necessary to this poor human 
nature. Once again accept my honest thanks for one 
of the most delightful evenings of the short visit to 
London which the kindness of many friends, and in 
some cases, perhaps, accident, have crowded with 
gratifications. I count it a real privilege to become 
acquainted with Mrs. Joanna Baillie, Miss Fox, Mrs. 
Sullivan, and, may 1 add, your ladyship, to say nothing 
of the great Bobus, whose name 1 take shame to 
myself not to have remembered, and it was no common 
pleasure to see Mr. Callcott ^ and Mr. Edwin Landseer, 
both of whom were very kind to me, and to meet once 
again my excellent friends, Mr Young ^ and Mr. and 
Mrs. Milman. It was a delightful evening ! 

I hope and believe that your ladyship will like the 
accompanying books. Mr. Kenyon's work was, I fancy, 
intended for publication, but he gave all the copies 
away in the first week or two without waiting for 
purchasers, so that it has never got into general 
circulation, although most favourably reviewed by the 
Edinbiu-irh. \ think you will like it, and if you do, I 
believe that I can procure you a copy of a new edition, 
which I understand (not from the author) he is 
preparing to print for private distribution. I am sure 

' [Afterwards Sir Augustus Callcott.] - [The well-known actor.] 



that the terseness and point of the writing will please 
you, and I venture to hope that Lord Dacre will 
approve the largeness and liberality of the sentiments. 
William Harness can tell you how very delightful and 
excellent Mr. Kenyon is. Of your liking Miss Barrett's 
marvellous work I am still more certain. To read the 
preface to the " Prometheus Bound " (for of the 
translation itself I am no judge) and some of the minor 
poems — that, for instance, " To a Poet's Child " — and 
recollect that they are the production of a lovely, 
graceful girl, timid as a fawn, whose hand trembles in 
yours, and whose beautiful eyes fill with tears as you 
speak to her, seems to me to bring together two things 
which seem incompatible — youth and maturity. Her 
history, too, is as interesting as her character, and her 
position, living in profound seclusion in the midst of 
London, occupied in teaching her little brothers Greek, 
is almost as singular as her genius and her character. 
Even to myself it appears an almost insupportable 
presumption to join to two such volumes the trifle 
of which I have to entreat your acceptance. My 
excuse for sending the opera is twofold. Mr. Talbot 
liked it, and it is the only one of my writings not to be 
purchased, since upon the failure of the music it was, 
of course, withdrawn from the theatre, and also from 
publication. The recommendation to your ladyship 
will be that it belongs in some way to the Drama, for I 
see plainly that the theatre has the same charm for 
you that 1 confess it holds over me, and I am quite 
enchanted to be so kept in countenance. 

May 1 venture to present my respects to Lady 
Dacre, Mrs. Sullivan, and Mr. and Mrs. Talbot, and 
to beg you to believe me. 

My dear Lad}^ Dacre, 
Your obliged and grateful servant, 


Miss Mitford to Lady Dacre 

Sunday, July 2 (1836) (.?) 

Many thanks, my dear Lady Dacre, for your most 
kind letter, and the still kinder present which you are 
so good as to intend for me. You can hardly give the 
volume to one who can prize it more for its own sake 
and for yours. Many years ago 1 met with two or 


three of your Translations from Petrarch (indeed, 
they were the first evidences of your genius that 1 did 
meet with, except a fine drawing of cattle at Kirkley '), 
and was so charmed with them as to transcribe them — 
a young-lady-like evidence of admiration which I very 
rarely indulge in ; and now that I know all your kind- 
ness, and am to receive the translations from yourself, I 
shall set no common value on the gift. To translate 
poetry into poetry is a most difficult task — the mere 
putting it into verse is common enough. 

I knew that you would be charmed with Miss 
Barrett's book ; did I tell you her story ? Ten years 
ago she was living with her father at a fine place 
amongst the Malvern Hills, the eldest of ten children. 
He was then a man of ;^i 5,000 a year. A cousin came 
to him and showed him a will dated sixty years before, 
under which he claimed ;^75,ooo. Mr. Barrett, who 
had never heard of the claim, showed the will to a 
lawyer, who advised him to dispute it. He did so, and 
after the cause had been driven from Court to Court, 
it has been given against him with enormous costs 
and interest, so that his place in Herefordshire is sold, 
and he is living, to use his own expression, a " broken- 
down man " in London. Of course the poverty is only 
comparative ; people who live in Gloucester Place are 
probably what 1 should call rich ; still, with ten children 
coming into life, the change is, of course, great; and 
the mother being dead, and the father utterly dis- 
pirited, my lovely young friend has been living in the 
middle of gaiety in a seclusion the most absolute, 
seeing nobody — nobody but the old scholar to whom 
the " Prometheus " is inscribed — and chiefly occupied in 
teaching her little brothers Greek. One other person, 
however, she did see, Mr. Kenyon, who was her 
distant relation, and to whom 1 owe the happiness of 
her friendship; he perceived at once the splendid talent 
and exquisite charm (for most charming she is), and 
begged her to come to his house to meet Mr. 
Wordsworth and Mr. Landor, who were staying with 
him. She shrank away from the very name of a party, 
and then Mr. Kenyon, who is one of the most delight- 
ful and kindest persons upon earth (ask William 
Harness his opinion about that dear friend of his and 
mine), coaxed her into going with us to see the giraffes 
^ [Mr. Ogle's place in Northumberland.] 


and the Diorama. After which I saw her frequently, 
and she came to meet the great poet, and will, I think, 
get rid of all that is painful in her shyness, retaining 
the most graceful modesty, if once brought forward in 
the society she is so fitted to adorn. She is very 
pretty, very gentle, very graceful, and with a look of 
extreme youth, which is in itself a charm. You would 
be delighted with her. I enclose you a letter which 
will show how affectionate she is. I send it quite, in 
confidence ; show it to no one else, and do not mention 
it ; but j^our ladyship being already interested by her 
extraordinar}' power, I send this letter (in spite of its 
affectionate flattery) to show you the childlike sweet- 
ness of character which accompanies all this talent. 
The " Essay on Mind," which she sent me with this 
letter, was written before she was seventeen. It is a 
wonderful production, with notes as full of learning as 
those to the " Prometheus." Henry Car}' (son of the 
translator of Dante and Pindar, and himself one of the 
most distinguished scholars of the day) was reading 
it here 3'esterday, and declared that she had read 
books, and alluded to them familiarly as if read by 
everybod}^, that no young men in the Oxford of his day 
ever thought of looking into. Of course this learning 
is very wonderful, and seems especially so to me who 
am exceedingly ignorant. But the real wonder is her 
power of writing, the force, the fire, the vigour, the 
tension of that preface, and the clearness and beauty 
of style of some of the smaller poems — that especially 
to which she alludes as written in Miss Courtenay's 
album, and which is still unprinted. 

If events lead her to write on, and she be blessed 
with life and health, I have no doubt of her being one 
of the most remarkable women that ever lived. Her 
address is 74, Gloucester Place, but I don't think 
she can be "got at" without Mr. Kenyon — John 
Ken^i'on, Esq., 4, Harle}^ Place — and he must be reached 
through Mr. Harness. Of course my little opera was 
for your ladyship, and greatly honoured it is by your 
kind acceptance. 1 have not seen the Miss B.'s 
book ; sufficient for me to write a novel (alas ! how 
little of it is written) that has so much chance of 
being bad without reading the bad novels of other 
people. I am quite of yoiu^ ladyship's mind about the 
comparative merit and comparative honour of novel- 


writing and play-writing. One real tragedy, one 
play, tragic or comic, imbued with real dramatic spirit, 
IS worth in my mind all the novels ever written by 
any living person. Have you heard of Mr. E. L. 
Bulwer's forthcoming tragedy ? I am told there is 
one — not to be acted but printed — on the story of 
Louis XIV. and La Valliere. One is curious to see 
what he will make of it. The story is not at all 
dramatic, and novel-writing is certainly a bad school. 

May I beg my best respects to Mrs. Sullivan (I am 
sure she will like Miss Barrett's book), and to those 
of your ladyship's circle who are so good as to 
remember me. 

Ever, my dear Lady Dacre, 

Most gratefully yours, 


I do not apologise for blots and blunders. You 
would not wish me to make a copy of my letters, and 
I don't think I could avoid erasures and interlineations, 
even if I did. 



[In the autumn of 1836 Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan and 
Lord and Lady Dacre went for a short tour in Ireland. 
Mrs. Sullivan kept the following diary for the amuse- 
ment of her children.] 


Oxford, Monday evening, September 5. — Here we are, 
all very merry, and rather, indeed I may say very, 
foolish ; but as I promised to keep a journal for you, I 
will not let the day go by without writing a word 
or two in my book. There is nothing like making a 
beginning ! Arrived at Oxford, Papa and I tore off, 
while dinner was being prepared, and looked into the 
library, etc. of All Souls. Papa showed me his rooms. 
We dined most jollily. Papa as gay as a lark, and recol- 
lecting the days of his youth with infinite satisfaction — 
we hope on account of his fruitful studies ; but some of 
the party, especially Granny, fear that he is more full 
of his youthful follies than of his precocious wisdom. 
However it may be, he has gone forth to see some old 
friends. Granny has had a good dinner ; I am writing 
for my chicks ; and Grandpapa and Tom* are warming 

Chepstow, Wednesday evening, Septendiev 7. — We 
have had such an enchanting day, I don't know how 
to begin or what to say. We started from Ross at a 
quarter before ten in a boat down the Wye. Lord 
Dacre went alone in the carriage, as he had a cold. 
Never was there so lovely a day, and the river, which 

' [Thomas Brand, afterwards 21st Baron Dacre.] 

1836] ON THE WYE 119 

beg-an somewhat tamely, became every moment more 
and more lovely. We landed at Goodrich Castle, and 
leaving poor dear Wow in the boat, we went all over 
the ruins. A beautilul tower, an awful donjon keep. 
From the top of the tower I saw the Wye winding 
round like figures of eight and true lovers' knots; saw 
the Symmons Yatt Rock. Proceeded in our boat till 
we landed under this same rock ; again left Mama and 
walked up to a cottage with a love of a woman in it, who 
gave us bread and cheese and cider, and took us to the top 
of this said rock, from whence we saw the Wye, where 
we parted from Mama — the Wye, where Mama was 
rowing down to the other side of the promontory : 
the Wye, under Counsellor Vansittart's seat : and the 
Wye once more beyond. The view lovely — three coun- 
ties join just there — the Welsh side lovely dotted with 
white cottages, and lime-kilns with smoke curling up 
against the green trees ; saw a man carrying his coracle 
on his back, and then saw him from the top of our crag 
in the coracle fishing. Proceeded to Monmouth, quite 
enchanted with all we had seen, with the weather, the 
boatman, everything. Eat at Monmouth and proceeded 
in our carriage towards Chepstow. Through a furious 
hard rain we drove on to Tintern ; in the rain we all 
tumbled out into the Abbey, and when there forgot 
everything but the intense beauty of the ruins. The 
rain abated, we let Mama get out and see the ruins she 
has raved about for so many years. She found she had 
not overrated them. We went up a narrow winding 
stair to the top of the ruins — such a view ! The sun 
came out, shone on the further hills and lighted up 
the whole scene — such windows, such pillars, such 
tracery ! 

Swansea, Thursday evening. — The beginning of to- 
day's journey was very ugly and very dull, nothing 
mountainous, nothing Welsh. As Grandpapa said, we 
might just as well have been going out to dine in Herts. 
To be sure it was seven o'clock in the morning, not 
exactly a dining hour. The day was grey, there was 
no sunshine, and altogether we were not edified. At 
Cardiff we breakfasted, having just walked to Cardiff 
Castle, and seen the donjon in which Robert of Nor- 
mandy spent thirty-six years with no light but a little 
hole high up in the wall. 


The day grew very wet, which we did not care for, 
till we got to Mergam Park belonging to Mr. Talbot. 
The hanging woods there far exceed anything we any 
of us ever saw ! From the house, too, there must be 
a view of the Bristol Channel and its shipping; I never 
saw so beautiful a place. We soon came to Swansea 
Bay. Most varied hills, beautiful wood, and deeply 
indented bay. Copper foundries and their smoke (but 
not too much) all very striking, and unlike anything 
I had seen before. Only, alas ! the weather was so 
unfavourable, all grey, misty, and rainy, and we had to 
peep and poke to catch views of the beautiful spots 
between umbrellas and carriage heads. We finished 
with a scene of desolation, which lasted to Swansea, 
Copper foundries, with immense tall chimneys pouring 
forth volumes of black smoke, so that you could see 
neither hill, nor road, nor house, nor an3^thing : now and 
then a flickering flame! most infernal! Piles of horrid 
black coal, of horrid red ore, of horrid brown ashes, 
women and children with bare feet, paddling about in 
the wet black mud. Nothing white except the cottages, 
which they still continue to whitewash so constantly, 
roofs and all, that they are white, spite of the horrible 
stifling smoke. The first view of this place was like 
one's notion of Sodom and Gomorrah, and one pitied 
the poor wretched creatures doomed to live and die in 
such an atmosphere. I wonder whether they are much 
more unhappy than other people ! I saw some Welsh 
women with bare feet, white capes, and black hats, as 
Welsh women should be. 

Saturday night, 12 o'clock.— On board the steam 
packet. We had such a long day from Swansea to 
Milford Haven yesterday, and I was so knocked up 
1 could not write a word. The day had been lovely 
till we got to Haverfordwest, which it was too dark to 
see. We waited nearly an hour while our wretched 
post-boys were pulled out of bed, and during this time 
it began to rain. Our horses jibbed going up a tre- 
mendous pitch in the town, and I had to walk up it. 
The rain fell like a waterspout, the night was mky 
black, the road most steep, and we thought we would 
never arrive at Milford Haven ; Imogen could not have 
felt more impatient. 7Va veiling in Wales is rather in 
a primeval state. Our packet is charming; Mama is in 


her berth, we are waiting for the arrival of the mail 
which comes between one and two o'clock and I am 
convinced will contain letters from all my chicks, which 
alas ! I cannot get at. The vessel got under weigh and 
we thought it all charming. It was not long, however, 
before our joy was turned to wailing! The sea was 
rough ; the wind, the tide, and our course were all 
different. The sufferings of my four companions were 
beyond all description. 1 lay still, and escaped the 
acute miseries of the others, but passed ten or eleven 
very wretched hours. Mama's wretchedness almost 
frightened me, and she pronounces sea-sickness to be 
the worst of all sufferings. About twelve we crept on 
deck, the sea bright and dazzling, the breeze fresh, the 
coast of Ireland in sight — fine, bold, mountainous hills — 
and our spirits revived. 

At three we landed at Dunmore, and if I was now to 
write down the contradictory impressions concerning 
the people, the country, the farming, the dress, etc., etc., 
which were made upon me every step of the road 
between Dunmore and Castle Martyr, I should fill my 
three copy books and leave you as puzzled as I am 
myself. The dress of all we saw on the little pier, the 
tidiness of all around, the neatness of many of 
the cottages of this very small place, filled me with 
astonishment, and I settled Ireland had been grossly 
misrepresented. We found our post-horses from 
Waterford waiting for us, for strange to say there 
is no inn at Dunmore. Off we went. Well-dressed 
people in jaunting-cars ; tip-top fashionable, nice girls 
in good blue cloaks, smooth hair, and the large hood 
for coiffure ; cottages with a bit of garden highly 
cultivated ! Before we reached Waterford, however, 
I began to perceive that all the cultivation was not 
equally good, that Irish cabins were not English 
cottages, and that Irish poor far exceeded in filth and 
horror anything we can guess at. 

The entrance to Waterford as fine as possible. 

Monday, 12th. — Left Waterford. Twenty-two miles 
to Dungarvan. The Comeragh Mountains before us, 
most beautiful, bold and varied in their outlines, more 
mountainous in their shape and bareness than in their 
actual height. Observed that no creature seemed busy : 
the men at harvest always standing still ; the women 

122 LISMORE [1836 

with their cloaks alwa3'S on, and always held on by 
their hands, did nothing and could do nothing, for their 
hands were occupied in keeping themselves covered ; 
the men at w^ork in the peat moss, not working but 
looking and lounging. Very strange ; no wonder they 
are poor and wretched. If they do not work and are 
not born to hereditary fortunes, how can they have 
anything? Changed horses at Dungarvan. The 
beggars — the horrible, shocking, disgusting, innumer- 
able beggars — a melancholy and appalling sight. The 
horses we got here realised all one has read and heard 
of Irish posting. After some debates we proceeded to 
Lismore. One poor horse refused to stir the moment 
the ground rose in the least — no wonder ! for his whole 
shoulders were one deep, dreadful sore. The men were 
obliged to turn the wheels, and push him on; by degrees 
he was coaxed into a gallop, and then the men mounted 
as they could. The road was hilly, the stage long, the 
miseries may be imagined. 

Cappoquin so very pretty a town it rewarded us for 
all, except the knowledge of the poor animal's suffer- 
ings, and the rage into which the perfect disobedience 
and insouciance of the post-boy put us. Through 
Cappoquin, over the bridge, round the corner, down 
the street, we galloped a coup perdu, slap-dash, happy- 
be-lucky, helter-skelter ! We held our breaths and 
nothing happened. The town was beautiful, the road 
excellent, the river lovely, the banks of wood magnifi- 
cent. At Lismore from the bridge, the three views as 
fine as possible. The castle on its wooded cliff over- 
hanging the river, and the spire of a small church 
cutting the sky before us. Behind, a deep wooded 
glen, to the left the river winding away with a back- 
ground of mountains. Up this hill we could not get ! 
Lord Dacre's leaders were sent back, and in time we 
reached the inn. We there found Mr. V, Stuart and 
Mr. Petrc on their way to Castle Mart3^r, but we found 
not post-horses. In a great quandary. However, we 

got a morsel of hard beef, and then Mama and Lord 
>acre went with the two pair the place afforded, and 
we waited while their tired horses rested. Had a long 
talk with the waiter and the mistress. The dreadful 
cabins, worse than one's worst pigstyes, the squalid 
filth, the wrctrhcd poverty, give one a feeling of oppres- 
sion and uneasiness that prevent one being able to lend 

1836] CASTLE MARTYR 123 

oneself comfortably to the extreme beauty of the scenery. 
Around Lismore the cultivation is better. The Duke 
of Devonshire has built large, good farm-houses, the 
fences are good, and 1 think that where the land is 
better farmed, the poverty is less squalid. There must 
be more work done, more money earned, and therefore 
more money spent for the labourers where the land 
is highly cultivated. The only result I have come to, is 
that good farmers may improve the population as well 
as the land. It was dark before we got to Youghall. 
Pitch dark from Youghall to Castle Martyr, where we 
arrived at half-past ten. 

Tuesday, 13///.— Walked with Lady Boyle all round 
this most comfortable domain. Gardens lovely. A 
long piece of water, which is, I believe, the river, very 
much widened by Lord Boyle's grandfather. When 
the expenditure amounted to ;^20,ooo, the man who 
had undertaken to do it burnt all the accounts, that 
posterity should never know the immense cost. The 
bank is beautifully wooded, and it certainly makes the 
place into a pretty one, which it would not otherwise 
be. There is a heronry, and a quantity of cormorants 
on an island covered with fir-trees. There are eighteen 
men to keep the flower gardens and walks in order, 
nine in the kitchen garden. However, labour is but 
Zd. per day. The ruins of the old castle are close 
to the house, but so overgrown with giant ivy they 
are quite a green mass. The house is very ugly, long 
and white and shapeless, but full of good rooms, with 
a noble drawing-room, and altogether thoroughly 
comfortable and enjoyable. 

Friday, 16//^.— Mama, Lady Boyle, Frederick, and I 
drove to Rostellan (Lord Thomond's). We passed 
through Cloyne, where is one of the very lofty, narrow, 
round towers, which they say are peculiar to Ireland 
and Persia. This one is in excellent preservation. It 
struck me that its purpose must have been to serve as 
a watch-tower to warn of the approach of an enemy, 
but they say there is an idea they were built for the 
worship of the sun in times of which there is no 
record. Rostellan is a pretty place, its situation on 
the shore of Cork harbour very beautiful. A gleam 
of sun came out and lighted up the town of Cove, and 

124 KILLARNEY [1836 

poured down on one spot of the sea. The harbour 
completely land-locked, so that it looked like a beauti- 
ful great lake. Stepped down to the shore and 
gathered a few shells for the children. The garden 
full of enormous hydrangeas, giant verbena, etc. ; 
everything grows so luxuriantly! Extremes meet 
every moment. The population of Cloyne wretched. 
One is struck by the great gateways of stone with iron 
gates, which one confidently expects are to lead to a 
" place " of some sort, whereas these splendid entrances 
often lead through a broken turf wall into a rushy 
field, or at best to a place about as grand as old 
Houston's. To make a shift, and to make a dash, are 
the ruling principles of action everywhere — except at 
Castle Martyr ! We were more struck than ever with 
the tiny comfortable cottages of the Castle Martyr 
labourers, when returning from Clo3^ne. 

KiLLARNEY, Moiiday evening, September 19. — We have 
seen beautiful things, and here we are after an inimi- 
table dinner of Mr. Finn's, very warm by a peat fire 
and very snug, and I will begin at the beginning. 
We, i.e. Mama, Fred, and I were off at eight o'clock. 
The road ugly enough till we got near Cork. A 
marvellously pretty prison in the outskirts — quite a 
pleasure to be on the treadmill in such a habitation, 
with such Doric columns. The road did not become 
pretty till we left Macroome. There were several 
ruins, some very handsome, that would have put me 
into a ferment ten days ago, but there are so many my 
raptures will not hold out. By degrees the road grew 
wilder and wilder, stonier and more stony, more and 
more rocky, till the rocks were piled into hills, and at 
last into bare, desolate mountains. The beginning of 
this rocky valley was like my idea of the valley in 
which the Escorial is built. However, our mountains 
grew so bold, so bleak, so desolate, so fine, they were 
like nothing but themselves. The hovels in which 
the human creatures dwelt, generally too horrid, till 
we got to Mr. Herbert's property, and at the foot 
of one of the rockiest mountains, there was a pretty, 
straw-thatched, smiling hamlet. We cU bouched from 
our mountain pass into more open ground, but to the 
left the whole was bounded by mountains, beautiful 
and bold, with the most varied outlines. It was a grey 

1836] KILLARNEY 125 

day, and a very cold one (I never suffered more from 
cold), but we were quite enchanted. 

The Turk Mountain and Eagle's Nest, etc, etc. ; and 
the beauty went on encreasing every moment till we 
got to Ki Harney. We had had, in the last sixteen 
miles, wild glens, mountain torrents, nice bridges (in 
running to look at a fine clear stream gushing through 
rocks under the bridge I got into a bog and was 
wet through). We here had ruins coming just where 
they were most beautiful ; we have had desolations, 
and since we arrived at Killarney we have finished off 
by taking a jaunting-car and driving to Ross Castle 
and seeing the lovely lake and its lovely banks, and 
Lord Kenmare's lovely walks and cottages. We 
accomplished seventy-seven miles by nine o'clock, and 
then took our trip in the jaunting-car, and so we have 
had a taste of every kind of beauty. 

Tuesday evening, 20th. — Our raptures to-day have 
exceeded all bounds. At nine o'clock we set off on a 
jaunting-car to Ross Castle. Frederick and I went up 
the winding stair to the top of the castle, where, from 
a very dangerous spot, we had a good look at the 
Lower and Turk Lakes, and reconnoitred the scene of 
action. The first place we landed at was the Island 
of Innisfallen, where there are some remains of an old 
Franciscan Monastery. Monks, in so very lovely an 
island as this, were not much to be pitied. It is 
covered with beautiful old trees, its shores are all 
rocks of sandstone worn into all sorts of romantic 
shapes, against which the waves ripple or break in the 
most soothing manner. A studious monk would have 
had here all appliances and means to boot. We then 
proceeded to O'Sullivan's cascade. Frederick and I 
tore off to it — much bored by the other visitors who 
infested it. However, it is a pretty little fall, com- 
pletely environed in trees and rocks. We scrambled 
up the precipitous sides in a manner that did some 
credit to our old limbs. It is so long since I have 
scrambled I was glad to find I had not fallen off so 
much since Switzerland. The boatman summoned us 
back, and we dutifully returned to Granny and the 
boat, but had to wait a good half hour for Hull, whom 
we had completely lost, and who had been lured up 
the mountain by the old woman who is there to assist 

126 KILLARNEY [1836 

and guide. By the bye, a very pretty young one was 
very active in helping us and three gentlemen up the 
sides of the cascade. Fred and 1 roamed a little about 
the mountain, and then went to the cottage appointed 
for touring parties. The morning had been lovely, 
the hues on the mountains beautiful, the purple heights 
above quite clear, but a sharp scud came on, and we 
began to fear the beauty of the day was passed. 
Fortunately the bad weather only lasted while we had 
our luncheon. We could only muster one lake trout, 
which was duly roasted on an arbutus skewer, stuck 
in a peat ; it was basted with an arbutus branch, and 
sent in adorned with little bits of arbutus, all as it 
should be, and very good it was ! We had a bugle- 
man who steered, and it is impossible to say how 
beautiful the sound of the bugle on the water is, or 
how softly, clear, and silver-sounding the echo under 
Glena Mountain was. The bugle is an immense 
addition to the pleasure of the thing, and one man 
played very well, much better than the one belonging 
to the boat with the three gentlemen. (N.B. — The 
three gentlemen pursued us everywhere). After our 
refection at the cottage and the reinvigorating effects 
of Scotch ale (of which we generousl}^ gave some to 
the three gentlemen, in return for an offer of salt 
which they obligingly made us), we again got into our 
boat, and passed through a passage not wider than 
the river at Panshanger, but which is most rocky and 
beautiful. They told us Sir Walter Scott admired 
this part more than any other. The view behind is 
most wild, the mountains so high and so completely 
close to the Upper Lake, which we left behind us while 
we went to the Turk Lake. One part of the passage 
wider than the rest is called O'Suliivan's Punch-bowl. 
The boatman's respect for us as O'Sullivans encreased 
rapidly, and it was with great difficulty I could prevent 
Granny expatiating largely on the merits and glory of 
the young scion of the O'Sullivans now at Eton. 
However, nudges and nods and frowns of mine kept 
her under some controul, and she restrained herself 
even when they took us to an island which was to be 
christened after me. Mama was godmother, I was 
made to land, and Frederick too, and thrn among a 
vast deal of gibberish in Latin, Irish, and English, it 
was christened the Arabella O'Sullivan, and 1 was 

1836] KILLARNEY 127 

proclaimed its queen. A bottle of whisky (water, 
1 guess) was broken on the rocks, and a sprig of 
arbutus and heather off my reahn stuck in each of our 
hats, and with loud huzzas and three times three we 
left our domain — for ever! All this means whisky for 
the christening, but they assure me the island is to 
bear my name ever after ! 

We again landed at Mucross, and leaving poor 
Granny on the shore, we walked three-quarters of a 
mile to the Abbey, which was a pretty ruin, its belfry 
very pretty, one or two windows in good preservation, 
but too much overgrown with ivy, and its cloisters, 
though small, are extremely pretty and in perfect 
preservation. An enormous yew-tree grows exactly 
in the middle of the court, and completely forms a 
canopy over the court. The thing that is striking 
is the mixture of modern tombs and monuments in the 
ruined and desolate building. A fine monument, too 
big for its situation, is now in the act of being erected 
in the roofless chapel. This reminds me that bulls are 
not uncommon on the tombstones. Flat stones are 
constantly inscribed: "This stone js erected to the 
memory," and there lies the stone as flat as a flounder ! 
And another : " This stone is erected to Phelim 
O'Connor who died April . . . for himself and 

In the choir are the tombs of the Macarthy More, 
the O'Sullivan More, and the O'Donoghoe More. 1 
have made a sketch of them for you — such as it is, and 
Papa standing on the grave of his ancestor. We 
returned to Mama, who was nearly out of patience, 
and from thence to Ross Castle, where we landed, got 
into our jaunting-car, jiggled a little way along the 
Kenmare road, but could not go far enough to get 
to the beauty, and returned home to an excellent 
dinner. Switzerland may be grander, but 1 doubt 
whether English or Scotch lakes quite equal Killarney. 
I don't know: lakes are lovely things, and comparisons 
are odious. 

IVcduesdny, 2\st. — At nine o'clock off we went : 
Mama in a jaunting-car by Mucross Abbey to the 
boat, Frederick and I in another, in an opposite 
direction to the Gap of Dunlow. The morning was 
perfectly beautiful, the sun shining, mountains clear 

128 THE GAP OF DUNLOW [1836 

and purple, and here and there silver rolls of white 
clouds clearing off from the highest points, and flitting 
across particularly like the shades of one's ancestors. 
I always think it is so natural that people who live 
in mountainous countries, among mists, clouds, and 
echoes, should be superstitious. Took a last look at 
the lovely Innisfallen, and at the sort of dent in the 
trees which marks the stream of the O'Sullivan's 

By the bye, saw a sign, " The Liberator," with a 
huge picture of O'Connell : Derrynane, his place, is 
about thirty miles from hence. Met lots of little 
children going to school — to the National School near 
the Catholic chapel. The men said both parties took 
kindly to the National School. 1 was glad to hear 
it, for I was afraid the Protestants set their faces 
against them. 

The Gap is the most wild and desolate thing 
imaginable ! Two great stones seem to serve as 
portals. There are little lakes all the way up, quite 
full of trout, which were jumping to such a degree that 
the water looked as if a heavy shower was beginning. 
So I believed in the trout ; but they are mightily given 
to humbugging one, and tried to persuade us that we 
had seen an eagle sitting on a rock against the horizon. 
Did see four poor little goats which had got on a 
ledge of rock for pasture, which they could leap down 
to but cannot leap up from. Three were starved to 
death there not long ago, and these will be if their 
owners do not find them, and let some one down to 
put ropes round them to pull them up. At least all 
this they told us, but it is an uncomfortable feeling 
that one cannot trust to anything they utter. On the 
left was the purple mountain, on the right the beautiful 
Reeks of Macgillicuddy, whose varied forms and ridges 
delighted us all the way we descended. We bounded 
down the mountain pretty rapidly, we flattered our- 
selves, for old folks. At the bottom of the mountain 
we came to a bit of a boggy stream to be crossed. 
Our old Moriarty seemed greatly distressed at missing 
a tree which was usually thrown across. Uj) stepped 
a beastly dirty wretch who had met us a little way 
before, who whipped off his shoes and stockings, and 
proposed himself to carry "the mistress" across. 
This, 1 resolved, should not happen, and 1 proposed 


whipping off my shoes and stockings (bare feet being 
no strange sight to them) and wading through myself^ 
when Moriarty found the bit of a tree (which had 
evidently been removed by the very man who wanted 
to carry me, in the hopes of a shilling), and so I passed 
over dry and safe on the tree. 

After luncheon we took boat and rowed along the 
very pretty Upper Lake, completely ensconced in 
mountains, our bugleman playing most sweetly, and 
among other airs "The Vale of Avoca," the echoes 
answering most clearly! As we passed a point under 
the Eagles' Nest, a longing desire came over me to 
have one more scramble, and I persuaded them to 
land me ; and off we set, Frederick and 1, like a pair 
of noodles, and, disdaining all guidance, we plunged 
into the most impassable of places, and at the imminent 
risk of our lives, at the expense of our clothes, and 
at the loss of my glass and gold chain, we clung, 
climbed, and swarmed up rocks which we tremble to 
think of. They hollaed us to come back, and our 
bugle man came to us by a safer path, and down we 
returned ; but I repent me of my folly, though 1 did 
enjoy the scramble to my heart's core. We took one 
row along the passage leading to the Turk Lake, and 
returning to the Upper Lake, landed, got into a 
jaunting-car that we might see some of the Kenmare 
Koad, of which we had heard so much. Most beautiful 
it is, and different from all the other beauties we had 
seen ; nothing strikes more than the variety of the 
scenery here. We saw the Turk Cascade, and Fred 
and 1 went to a high point from whence we took a 
last lingering look at the Turk and Lower Lakes, 
returned to our jaunting-car, and to our hotel. Quite 
sorry to part with our dear bugleman, whose attentions 
to Mama won my heart, and who was full of in- 
telligence on all subjects, and into the bargain full of 

Thursday. — Returned to Castle Martyr in a down- 
pour of rain the whole way, so that we saw nothing, 
and bore it patiently till we arrived, just as they were 
going to dinner. 

Saturday. — We were to have gone, all of us, to see 
the Bdlerobhon and Vanguard in Cork harbour. The 


day so bad it was given up, and the gentlemen went 
without us. The day got better. Lady Boyle and I 
thought we might as well drive to Rostellan in the 
jaunting-car, and look at the sea and the beautiful 
ships riding in the harbour. Off we set ; the day got 
lovelier and lovelier. When we got to the shore we 
could see the Emerald not yet arrived at the ships. 
The sea became calmer every moment. A longing 
desire came over us to follow after them. A most 
obliging groom of Lord Thomond's proposed making 
signals to them to return. We said " No," we would not 
spoil their sport, " though we would fain have some of 
our own." He then proposed to one of the gardeners : 
" Pat Sullivan, you can row, can't you ? and Mike 
too?" "No, no," cried we, " we don't venture on a 
boisterous sea without our husbands, with gardeners 
for boatmen ; but there must be boats on the shore," 
and off we went in the britska which had brought 
the gentlemen, with the charming coachman for a 
chaperon and guardian, to Whitegate. The active 
groom of Lord Thomond's, having sprung on a horse, 
darted like an arrow out of a bow, galloping, plunging 
across the country, and secured us an excellent 
whaler with four oars before we could get to White- 
gate, four miles off. Into our whaler we jumped, 
and away we rowed for the Bcllerophon, Lady Boyle 
taking care to explain to the boatman that we were 
going to our husbands ! ! Just as we approached the 
Bcllerophon the gentlemen left it ; we saw their boat 
making for the Emerald. We changed our course, we 
screamed, we shouted, we tied handkerchiefs to the 
end of parasols, one gentleman got out of their boat 
into the Emerald, and we tliought they would be off 
without us, when we reached them just in time. Then 
they returned with us on board the Belleroplion, and 
1 was struck and amazed with the awful magnitude 
and the astonishing order of the whole thing ! 1 never 
felt so much respect for human creatures and their 
performances. Captain Johnson took us over the 
three decks — heaven preserve me from ever seeing a 
sea-fight — 630 men on board, all so neat and so tidy — 
no crowd, no confusion ! We returned to the Emerald, 
and Sir Charles took us back to Roslellan, where we 
partcfl, nnd I hope he forgave us for having arrived in 
this independent manner, instead of wailing at home 

1836] AT DROMANA 131 

and trusting to his arrangements for Sunday. He 
had planned it all for us, but luckily for me we did as 
we did, for Sunday I was in bed all day long with 
headache. Monday we left Castle Martyr with the 
greatest possible regret. 1 never enjoyed a fortnight 

Tuesday. — Dromana is quite beautiful ! The house 
is built on a rock overhanging the Blackwater — you 
might drop a stone out of the drawing-room windows 
through the trees into the water. The opposite bank 
all wood ; the Comeragh Mountains, with most bold 
and varied outlines, filling up the end of the glen. 
The park is beautiful, the views lovely in every 
direction. The house is (like all things in Ireland) 
full of contrasts — such a grand drawing-room, such 
tumble-down offices, sixteen lamps in the chandelier, 
and pack-thread for bell-ropes ; a beautiful gold paper, 
and no curtains to the six windows ; an eagle before 
the windows, a stuffed seal in the hall, some great 
elk horns over the staircase, lots of family pictures, 
an old theatre turned into a workshop, the remains of 
what must have been very fine hanging gardens, 
connected by stone steps, down to the river, a 
lovely new garden from whence are extensive and 
rich romantic views. Nothing could be more 
hospitable than Mr. Villiers Stuart, nothing more 
Irish than the spirit of himself and his place ! Wc 
found Mr. Petre, Sir William Honan, Mr. Bakewell 
(a geologist in search of a mine), I3r. Foran (the 
Catholic Dean of Dungarvan), and Mr. Fogerty (his 
curate) ; Tom and Lord Boyle met us there. We 
went to see a Convent of Trappists, five miles from 
Cappoquin. The post-boy got dead drunk, let his 
horses loose, and lay on the grass, and Mr. Stuart had 
the horses caught, and upon them he mounted his own 
postillion, and off he went. It is impossible to say 
now beautiful the drive to Cappoquin was, how the 
stormy clouds and the bright gleams shifted and 
varied, and set off everything to the utmost advantage. 
As we approached the convent, the country grew bare 
and desolate. The mountains over the convent are 
bold, bare, and heathy, the road to it almost impassable, 
especially a pass over a bridge at the bottom of a 
ravine, which bridge was stopped up by a great piece 


of timber, trying to get to the convent, but which was 
too big to be moved. The building is an immense 
one : a Church 190 feet long, a Dormitory equally long 
for eighty monks, and another to contain forty, a 
Chapter House, Refectory, apartments for visitors, etc. 
The land around cultivated like an oasis in the desert. 
The abbot told us that three years ago he began this 
immense undertaking with only eighteen pence. 
Whence come the funds is to me a mystery, in these 
days, in this country ! it is incomprehensible. I 
wished very much to have seen more of the monks, 
but I only felt sure that three of the workmen I saw 
were Trappists ; the rest were either hired labourers 
or people who gave their services voluntarily, thereby, 
I suppose, feeling that they were making their salut : 
one mason in particular devoted himself for a year, 
but he has his board and clothing, so his devotion 
is not so very great. The Abbot himself is a fat, 
merry, gay-looking man, with whom we were rather 
shy and silent at first, but we soon became intimate, 
cracked many jokes, and had a great deal of fun. 
He may well be happy, for he has all the talk to 
himself! Those whom we recognised as Trappists, 
and especially the porter, had a placid but most 
mortified expression of countenance. The Abbot, the 
Very Rev. Dr. O'Ryan, told us it was absolutely 
necessary that Trappists should be of a gay and lively 
disposition, and not, as I imagined, men who had met 
with some heavy misfortune (1 did not say who had 
committed some heinous sin, which in my heart I 
thought was the only motive which could induce 
people to live such a life of penance); if after two 
years' noviciate they proved to have a gloomy dis- 
position, they were not admitted, as if there were any 
predisposition to melancholy their intellects could 
not stand it, and they became lunatics. We asked if 
that ever occurred ; he said sometimes, in which case 
they were sent home to their friends ! He said that two 
brothers lived fourteen years together in the convent 
in France where he was, prayed together, chanted, and 
laboured, without ever speaking. He told us what 
surj)rised us much, that there are Trapjiist nuns — a 
nunnery of them in Dorsetshire. I wouhl not have 
thouglit it i)rartirable for wonun, and many of them 
French women into tiie bargain ! Tiie abbot gave 

1836] AT KILKENNY 133 

us the best bread and butter and the worst wine 
imai^inable. We put 55. ayjiece into the little box "for 
the chapel," and departed full of wonder. There are 
sixty-six brethren there at present, and thirty more 
somewhere else in Kerry. 

Wednesday. — Left this most strange, ramshackle, 
magnificent, very Irish place, after much waiting, much 
delay, and many difficulties, l^he post-horses to-day 
have exceeded all that Miss Edgeworth ever described ! 
We have accomplished fifty-one miles in nine hours 
and a half, and here we are in the very best inn at 
Kilkenny that ever was seen. Such a dinner never 
was eat ; and now we are off to beds, which look as if 
they will be excellent. As usual nothing but contrasts 
in Ireland ! We were in a state of horror at the filth 
and the beggars and the whole appearance of Clonmel, 
and now we are charmed with Kilkenny. However, 
we have as yet seen nothing except the inn. 

Dublin, Thursday 29///. — We thought Kilkenny such 
a nice town, cleaner and more thriving than any we had 
seen, except Waterford, which Mama and I attribute 
to the humanising effects of theatricals many years 
since. The houses, fields, hedges, etc., seemed better, 
and Mama and I were struck, in our several carriages, 
by the very unusual sight of linen hanging to dry on 
hedges, from whence we drew the inference that the 
inhabitants of these cottages had a change of linen ! 

A droll sample of Irish ways and Irish lies occurred 
yesterday. As we were coming down a hill, out rushed 
a lanky post-boy from a ramshackle sort of a place, 
"Will yer honour want six horses?" he shouted. 
We said " Yes ; there are six horses ordered at the 
next post-house." " Ah, yer honour, but they have 
got but four, had I not better come along wid yer 
honour ? " We said " Yes," when up sprang the boy 
on one horse, and another ragged wretch on the other, 
and down they galloped, haphazard, helter-skelter. 
When we arrived the post-master hollaed out, " What 
brings you here, you blackguard ? Off wid you, ye 
scoundrel ! " " His honour told me to come, for he 
wants six horses." "Arrah, and haven't we got six 
iligant horses, ordered and ready ; come away wid 
you ! " We inquired whether there really were six 

134 AT DUBLIN [1836 

horses, and on the post-master assuring us he had 
them ready, Frederick offered the man a shilling, and 
told him to go back again, gently adding, " You should 
not have told us there were but four." " They have 
but four, yer honour," doggedly answered the man, 
and stood his ground firmly. The post-master then 
rated him more furiously than ever, swore at him, and 
we thought every moment they would come to blows, 
and I flattered myself I should at length see a real 
Irish row. Suddenly the turmoil subsided, and the 
next thing I saw was the very pair of horses in question 
in the act of being put into Mama's carriage. We 
inquired hastily into the cause of this, when the post- 
master answered, ** Och, we would not disappoint the 
young fellow ; he counted on putting the horses into yer 
honour's carriage." And we found the whole quarrel 
ended in smoke, and -was, we firmly believed, an 
amicable arrangement between the parties, merely for 
the pleasure of lying. Arrived in Dublin and much 
struck with the broken windows, and the size of the 
town, and the comfort of Mrs. R. Leeson's house, in 
which we were most luxuriously accommodated. Mr. 
and Mrs. William Leeson there to receive us, from 
their own house at Kingstown, to which they returned 
in the evening, 

Friday. — Went to the Lodge in the Phoenix Park to 
dinner. Mama and I in a great fuss to be sure and 
behave ourselves properly in the Vice-regal presence : 
it ended by my not knowing which were Lord and 
Lady Mulgrave, and not behaving m^^sclf at all 
properly. However, 1 was the first to start up when 
Lord Mulgrave came out of the dining-room, and I 
hope I thereby redeemed my character. Both 'Lord 
and Lady Lieutenant enact their regal part with the 
greatest possible success. The William Leesons, 
Charles Greys, and some others we knew were there, 
so that the ]iarty was agreeable. The dinner and the 
whole mode of reception, the band, etc., very grand 
and magnificent. When their Excellencies retired (for 
till then nobody ventured to move) we went with the 
William Leesons to Lord Morpeths. He received 
us most cordially, and Lady Morgan put us nu cojtraiit 
of all that was going on — told me who was who and 
what was what. 


Saturday. — Pamela ' came to us early. Encliaiitcd 
to see her and three of her children. 'Fhcn called on 
Lady Milltown, and then repaired to the railway to go 
in the Vice-regal train to Kingstown, and then on board 
the Madai^ascar. 

The first approach of one of the machines, which 
came boiling, smoking, and rumbling towards us, and 
under the covered place from which we start, was the 
most appalling thing I ever saw or heard. This 
dreadful monster then withdrew backwards, sided into 
another line, returned to us more awful than ever. 
At length Lord and Lady Mulgrave arrived ; we did 
not back quite under the horrid engines, but I think 
etiquette, even vice-regal etiquette, ought to be dis- 
pensed with when within the atmosphere of a steam 
engine. At three o'clock we started ! Away we 
glided — the motion nothing, but the noise deafening. 
The banks flew by us, we had not time to bid any one 
turn to look, for we were far beyond an object before 
any head could turn. In ten minutes we cleared five 
miles and a quarter, and then we got into a Com^ 
missioner's boat, went on board this frigate, where, 
after congees to the Mulgraves, we followed in their 
wake all over the decks, into the armoury, the mid- 
shipmen's berths, every hole and corner. After many 
pros and cons, we departed (before their Excellencies) 
to Mrs. William Leeson's, whose luncheon had been 
prepared two hours, and fortunate it was we broke 
through the etiquette, for there came on so furious and 
sudden a squall that the Mulgraves were completely 
ducked, and the stern of the boat swamped as it was 
driven on shore. The next boat that was to leave the 
ship was detained by the captain, who said that the 
company might swim on shore if they pleased, but 
that he would not risk the lives of his sailors. Lord 
Morpeth and many others were kept on board till 
ten o'clock. We returned to Dublin by the railroad, 
the Charles Greys and Campbells with us. Very 
pleasant, and a very great delight to talk over old times 
with Pamela. 

Monday. — Went with Pamela to the school, which is 
the model of the other National Schools. The only 

' [Daughter of Lord Edward Fitzgerald and " Pamela," and wife of 
Sir Guy Campbell, Bart.] 


thing to be remarked in the younger classes was the 
very happy, animated expression on the boys' counte- 
nances, and that they were very quick at Geography. 
Among the girls I saw nothing beyond other schools, 
but the first class of boys certainly did know a great 
deal upon a great many subjects. The mode of mutual 
questioning, which they call "chances," certainly 
animates and excites and awakens the intellect. 
Whether it may do any permanent good, or whether 
it may be productive of any future mischief, or whether 
in the long run it may do nothing at all, I cannot 
pretend to say. I do not see the advantage of mere 
labourers knowing about Chemistry and Geology, and 
how many miles Lima is from Vienna, or Tobolsk 
from Calcutta, but it makes the boys all alive. They 
were questioned in Scripture history, and most 
assuredly it is a scandal to say they are not instructed 
in Scripture history, though it was mostly to the Old 
Testament that the questions were confined. One boy 
asked when St. Teresa was born. He was instantly 
stopped : " You will not find that in the Scriptures." 
Protestants and Catholics were mixed, of course the 
greater number Catholics. Dr. McArthur's manner 
very intelligent and quick, and very good-natured. 
We then went to Reynolds's, and there bought seven 
poplins within the half-hour, which we thought a 
wondrous feat. Proceeded to Lord Morpeth's to 
luncheon ; we there found Mr. Wortley ; we all 
walked about the very pretty garden and grounds ; 
called on Lady Morgan, and returned home. Frederick 
and I then walked forth in the bitterest wind ever felt, 
just to look at the Bank, the Post Office, and the 
Custom House, and returned to dress for Lord 
Cloncurry's at Maretimo. We were too late, as they 
dine at six. We were shocked. A pleasant dinner 
enough — Lord Fingall, Lord Plunket, Mr. Douglas, etc. 
In the evening some people came — the Dublin beauty, 
Mrs. Williams, Lady Morgan, and the Misses Clarke. 
The two young ladies sang most beautifully. 

Tuesday, ^th. — Mama and Lord Dacre went to the 
Mo(l<'l School while 1 ])acked. We then went with 
the Charles Greys to luncheon with Pamela. Saw all 
her most lovely children — all with such eyes ! She 
was her own self, which is saying all that can be said 

1836] TO CARTON 137 

of charm and aj^rccablencss. Wo then went to Carton, 
a delij^htful place, uniting magnificence and prettiness ; 
nobody there but themselves, but we were charmed 
with them. Such kindness and hospitality must 
please, and the goodness and benevolence of the good 
Duke's heart is apparent in his countenance and 
manner, and in every word he utters. We should 
have enjoyed it much had not Lord Dacre been 
peculiarly unwell. 

Wednesday, 5///. — The Duke and Duchess took us in 
an enormous two-horse jaunting-car to the cottage 
grounds, which are extremely ])retty, as all the banks 
of the river must be when the water is full; but he is 
enlarging the stream, and it is not now in beauty. 
We left Carton with great regret ; I should have liked 
to have been one of the Sunday scrambling party. 
On that day, when the Duke is at leisure, the Duchess 
told us they generally took a scrambling walk with the 
children along the opposite rocky bank, to the Giant's 
Cave. All they said gave me the idea of the most 
domestic, happy, virtuous family. The Duke told 
Mama he had felt mortified that the returns from his 
neighbourhood, where he had lived so constantly, 
and did his utmost to improve the condition of the 
people, should be no better than those from the neigh- 
bourhood of absentees. The Duchess told me their 
labourers in constant work were as ragged, as wretched, 
and as improvident as others. Very disheartening ! 
But they think it their duty to live there, do their best 
conscientiously, and hope in time that some good may 
accrue. Returned to Dublin. Mama and 1 drove to 
the Phoenix Park, for Mama to call on Mrs. Drum- 
mond; we then packed, dined, and went to bed. 

Thursday, 6th. — Got up at half-past four, ofT at half- 
past six, arrived at the William Leesons at a quarter- 
part seven. Thought they must all be in their first 
sleep ; but we found Mr. Leeson up, and Mrs. Leeson 
soon made her appearance, and gave us a very good 
breakfast. We took leave of them, and were on board 
by nine o'clock. The day was most beautiful, the Bay 
of Dublin most beautiful, mountains beautiful, sea 
beautiful ; the shores all dotted with white buildings ; 
the Wicklow Mountains bold and fine, ending in an 


abrupt headland to the south. Looked at poor Ireland 
as long as possible, and thought what a pity that a 
country so favoured by nature with beauty and fer- 
tility, so formed for agriculture and for commerce, 
with rich soil and rich mines, and surrounded by 
harbours, should, either from misgovernment or from 
some inherent perversity in the very nature of the 
inhabitants, be peopled by a race so idle, so unim- 
provable. Landed at Holyhead. It was dark before 
we arrived at the Menai Bridge, but we made out we 
were approaching it by the lights at the two ends, 
which we saw from a great distance. We could make 
out enough to be edified, and, as we came to Bangor, 
to perceive it must all be very beautiful. The skies 
spangled with stars, both sides of the Menai Straits 
spangled with lights in cottages, and the clear water 
reflecting both. An excellent inn in Bangor, where 
we established ourselves comfortably, and resolved to 
stay two nights. 

Friday.— Onr eyes were greeted with beautiful views 
from our bedroom windows. From mine the Straits 
opening towards the sea, covered with small vessels 
and crafts. The shore of Anglesey wooded and cot- 
taged, the Welsh shore rising into lovely mountains, 
which were most lovely from Mama's window. She 
was like a wild thing with delight. After breakfast we 
went to the top of a highish knoll, from which we 
could see the gorge, through which we are to go to- 
morrow, to the south-east, and the road to Conway 
more to the north, and Penrhyn Castle nearer; then 
the open sea. . . . We now think all former sights 
are eclipsed by to-day's. And how fortunate we have 
been in the weather — on all occasions when the 
weather being fine was absolutely indispensable ! 

Saturday, October 8. — Left Bangor. Just at the 
entrance of the Capel Curig Gorge we went to Mr. 
Dawkins Pennant's great slate quarries of Tyn y Maes. 
The scene was like some great Assyrian, Egyj)tian, 
or Babylonian work : like the Tower of Babel, or 
Nineveh, or a gigantic amphitheatre, I do not exactly 
know which. Nearly 1,900 workmen arc employed, 
some of whom earn £2 or £2, per week, and none less 
than 125. There arc thirteen different tiers of works 


up the sides of the mountain, each with its railroad, 
etc.: one enormous block standing in the midst ot the 
quarry. The blasting of the rock is almost incessant ; 
they holloa violently to prepare people for it, and 
every one takes shelter behind some bit of rock. 
Lives are often lost, and we saw people whose eyes 
and fingers had been destroyed by the blasting. There 
is a fund to which the labourers subscribe to provide 
for those who are disabled, or for their families. 
Arrived at Capel Curig. A longing came over 
Frederick and me to go to the top of Snowdon. Lord 
Dacre most kindly proposed to stay; we were nothing 
loath. We got some food hastily, 1 changed my gown 
with all my might, and in spite of showers which 
seemed to threaten us with a wet evening, we trusted 
to our good fortune, and went in a hack chaise to the 
foot of the steep part of the mountain four miles off, 
Mama accompanying us, and resolving to wait at a 
little inn w^hilc we accomplished the ascent. We left 
her and began our journey — so steep, so difficult, that 
I very nearly gave in at the end of twenty minutes. 
However, I rallied, and turned the first ridge, from 
which we saw a lake high up the side of the mountain, 
the mountain rising more than perpendicularly, almost 
concavely, out of the lake up to a point — a pinnacle. 
Not a tree, a shrub, a cottage, a human being, or a 
vestige of habitation to be seen — bare, rocky moun- 
tains hurled in confusion in every direction. The 
path no path at all, but stepping from stone to stone, 
or creeping along slippery, steep paths, with this lake 
exactly under us. Several times 1 thought I must 
have turned back ; still we were not half-way. A drop 
of whisky and water revived me, and on I went. 
Not very far from the top we came to the shaft of a 
copper mine. The ascent from here was less difficult, 
although very fatiguing. When we turned this last 
ridge, from the dark, black side of the mountain to 
the bright, sunny side, looking down on the Llanberis 
lakes, on the tops of many mountains, on the Menai 
Straits, etc., the bright, fleecy clouds flitting this way 
and that below us, the scene was enchanting. The 
clouds cleared off the top of Snowdon, where they had 
hovered all the time before, and we saw the very 
pinnacle. As we mounted the ridge we peeped over 
into the copper lake fathoms below us, and felt awed 


and frightened. I now regret not having mounted 
the Rigi, as I suppose that is still more sublime ; but 
Snowdon is enough to satisfy a moderate mortal. We 
reached the very top, on which a mound of stones has 
been raised to support a flagstaff; and there is only 
room to creep round this mound about five yards in 
diameter, and all below is precipice. Snowdon put on 
its white nightcap again while we were there, and we 
stood with nothing but white mist below us in all 
directions, as if we were the last people in the deluge. 
We picked up some bits of spar for the children, and 
our guide hurried us down. He was afraid the day- 
light would not last. We descended much more 
rapidly ; but, as I looked from the top, it appeared to 
me absolutely impossible to get to the bottom. Before 
I did so I slipped many times ; my shoes were cut to 
pieces — they had been wet from the beginning. I was 
wet to my knees with the boggy places which I had 
stepped into, and so tired I could hardly crawl. Still, 
on we were obliged to go, for it was nearly dark. 
Down we plunged, and down I slipped every moment. 
We knew Mama would be frightened at our lateness. 
A little whisky and water at the inn enabled me to 
get home, but I never was so tired. 

Sunday. — Left Capel Curig in a pour of rain. I 
returned to the open carriage before we got to Llan- 
gollen, and very pretty and very lovely it is— not grand, 
but lovely. Looked out for the house of the poor old 
ladie5 of Llangollen, but it is not to be seen from the 
road. The ruins of an old castle on the top of a hill in 
the middle of the valley — of course, Owen Glendowcr's ! 
for everything old in these parts ivas Owen Glendower's 
and everything new is Sir Watkin's. After we left 
Llangollen there was an end of Welsh scenery ; indeed, 
after about six miles, we entered Shropshire. 

Monday. — Left Oswestry at nine, just before Birm- 
ingham the air cleared ; tin- country became nice 
and comfortable again. Birmingham appears to be 

Tuesday. — The inn at Birmingham j)r()ved horrid; 
everything i^ruinaggem except the wind, wliich was 
most real, driving across us from Brumaggem doors 

1836] RETURN HOME 141 

and windows. Went to visit Mr. Collis's shop. All 
sorts of beautiful things, which, as they only pretended 
to be Brumaggem, were very perfect in their way. 
We left Birmingham at twelve, and were so impatient 
to get home that we pushed on nearly two stages after 
dark, and reached Stony Stratford. 

IVediiesday. — Were not bitten by fleas. Looked at 
the horses Lord Lynedoch still keeps there. At Dun- 
stable Granny got into the open carriage with us, that 
she might stop at the Vicarage and take a look at the 
children. And now good night, chicks : there is an 
end of my peregrinations and of my journal. The 
former have been very entertaining to me ; and though 
1 fear the latter may not prove so to you, it shows, at 
least, that you and your parting injunction have not 
been out of my head. 


Letters to Lady Dacre from Miss Mitford, Joanna Baillie, Sydney 
Smith, and Joanna Baillie — Mrs. F. Sullivan to Brand Sullivan on 
the Coronation — "Frogs and Bulls" — Joanna Baillie and Bobus 
Smith to Lady Dacre — Brand Sullivan to his mother — Verses by 
Lady Dacre. 

[The following letters are almost entirely concerned 
with current literary interests and anecdotes.] 

Miss Mitford to Lady Dacre 

Three Mile Cross, 
1837 (?) 
My dear Lady Dacre, — 

I am going to ask of you another favour. At 
the eleventh hour it has pleased Mr. Tilt of Fleet 
Street, the great ornamental (?) publisher to come to 
me to superintend the second volume of *' Findon's 
Tableaux," the most beautiful of last year's annuals, 
and my petition is that you will allow me to inscribe 
it to you. I am to do all the prose, except one tale 
which my friend, Henry Chorlcy (the biographer of 
Mrs. llcmans, and a person quite unmatched among 
the literary youth of this age, so far as I have known 
them, for elegance of mind and charm of character), 
has volunteered to write for me. 1 am to do all the 
prose, and our poetry will, I think, by the help of 
dear Miss Barrett and other unhackneyed writers, 
as well as the elite of the usual poets — Mrs. Procter 
and so forth — be above the common run of such 
pubhcations. So that, aided by our splendid engrav- 
ings and magnificent getting-up, we shall do our 
best to deserve our Patroness, for you have been so 
very, very kind to me th:it 1 will not :inticipate your 



I applied to dear Mrs. Joanna for her aid, and 
received an answer so kind and so gracious tliat, 
although she could not comply with my request 
after refusing so many applications, her letter was 
in the highest degree gratifying and characteristic. 
What a glorious creature she is ! So true and simple- 
hearted and unspoilt as a woman ! sucli an honour 
to her sex as a poetess ! Once again, dearest Lady 
Dacre, I look back to all that 1 owe you in her 
acquaintance. She speaks with great pleasure of a 
visit from your ladyship and Lady Becher — another 
glorious person in another way — how one always 
longs to turn her into Miss O'Neill again ! 

1 have called a seedling geranium after Mrs. Joanna, 
and shall raise a cutting of it for your ladyship in 
the autumn, with another ambitiously named flower 
— whose title you may guess. . . . 

Ever, dearest Lady Dacre, 

Most gratefully yours, 


Miss Joanna Baillic to Lady Dacre 


Friday, May 28, 1S37. 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

1 thank you very much for your three-foot stool, 
which is clever and applicable, and most happily 
illustrated by " The Toadstool " and " The Goose." 
It is a droll, light, and amusing thing, yet I cannot 
say that I prefer it to "The Glow-worm," where the 
satire is as sharp, while there is beautiful imagery 
and elegance along with it. But there is no 
necessity to settle the respective merits of the two 
fables, 1 think myself much favoured in possessing 
them both. . . . 

1 begrudge that we have not been to one of yowx 
Monday evenings, but this has not been in our power, 
though we are much pleased with the permission to 
join so agreeable a party. ... I have been busy with 
the second volume of Sir Walter Scott's Life all the 
week, and the recent death of poor Mrs, Lockhart 
has made it doubly melancholy. In a note from 


Mrs. Thomas Scott, who was with her at the 
last, which I received a few days ago, are these 
words : 

" I have known our dear Sophia since she was two 
months old, and thought myself aware of the sweet 
gentleness of her natural disposition ; but to behold 
such patience, resignation, and gratitude for every aid 
or service rendered her, under the pressure of such 
severe suffering, really did astonish me, and melted 
the heart of every person round her — to you it would 
have recalled her beloved father." 

Her death seems to have extinguished the brightest 
spark he left behind him, for she resembled him more 
than his other children. Hoping that fine weather 
will tempt you to drive up the hill soon, your grand- 
daughter perhaps by your side — no unpleasant sight 
to look upon. 

I remain, my dear Lady Dacre, 

Affectionately yours, 

J. Baillie. 

77?^ Rev. Sydney SmitJi (Canon of St. Pauls) to 
Lady Dacre 

33, Charles Street, Berkeley Square, 

Many thanks, dear Lady Dacre, for your beautiful 
translations in your beautiful book. 

1 read forthwith several beautiful sonnets upon 
Love, which paint with great fidelity some of the 
worst symptoms of that terrible disorder, than which 
none destroys more completely tlie happiness of com- 
mon existence, and substitutes, for the activity which 
Life demands, a long and sickly dream with moments 
of pleasure and days of intolerable pain. The Poets 
are full of false views : they make mankind believe that 
happiness consists in falling in love, and living in 
the country — 1 say : live in London ; like many people, 
fall in love with nobod}^ To these rules ot life 1 
add : read Lady Dacre's 'i'ranslations, and attend her 
Monday evening j)arties. 

Ever yours, 

Sydnf-v Smith. 

i837] MRS. GORE'S PLAYS 145 

Miss Joanna Baillie to Lady Dacre 

December 23, 1837. 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

Nothing has given me more pleasure for many a 
clay than learning that my book has interested you 
and roused your attention, and in some degree en- 
livened your thoughts at this season of the year, when 
those who have been long in the world look back 
upon what has been, what has been most precious, and 
can be no more. All other cheering I have received 
from other quarters is not to be compared to this. 
.... I am pleased that my " bugaboo " ballads have 
an effect upon you that would better have suited your 
Granddaughter, for it says that you will continue to 
have fancy and youth about you to the end of your 
days. I am glad, too, that my Scotch songs and family 
verses have found favour ; and above all I am 
gratified that you approve of the Hymns and serious 

1 will now answer your question regarding the 
tragedy of " Dacre ^ " as well as I can, for it is some 
weeks since I read it. I have no time at present to 
read it again, so I must just speak from such impressions 
of it as remain. There is great cleverness and anima- 
tion in the different dialogues at the beginning of the 
Play, characteristic of the times, but the character 
of Dacre himself did not interest me as it ought to 
have done. He is heroic in taking the crimes of his 
friend upon himself, but somehow or other, in the 
complexity of small incidents, you lose sight of him ; 
and it is only at the end of that scene between him 
and the Lieutenant of the Tower, when he requests 
that when the countryman from his country and his 
old servant should pass round his body to behold it 
after the execution, they should be permitted and not 
thrust back like the other crowd. It is only then, 
according to my own feelings, that you truly love 
and pity him. The ladies' characters seem to me 
better drawn than his, and delicately and finely 
distinguished from each other. There is in it much 

' [By Mrs. Core.] 


146 MRS. GORE'S PLAYS [1837 

good writing, and ver}^ well-imagined scenery and 
pageantry for stage effect, and the whole does great 
credit to the author. Have you ever read a dramatic 
poem or masque, written by Mrs. Gore many years 
ago, called " The Bond " ? I thought that very striking 
and admired it much. It is founded on a German 
story of a nobleman who sold himself to the Devil, 
who was to bestow upon him everything that he 
desired, and in return was to have the nobleman's 
eldest son given up to him soon after he should be 
born. The son is born, the mother doats upon it, 
and the father is gloomy and sad. . . . But he must 
fulfil the bond, and goes to a dark lake where the 
child is to be received : two immense black arms appear 
rising from the water, and the baby is about to be 
delivered up, w^hen the mother, who had followed close 
behind, snatches it from him in despair, and the black 
arms seize upon the father. It is finely worked up, 
and beautifully written. 

I believe I have a copy of it in the house, and if it is 
not known to you, I will make a thorough search for 
it among my bookshelves, and send it to Chesterfield 
Street : it will be read with interest I am sure. I think 
you said some time ago, when I recommended Sir 
Francis Doyle's poem of " The Doncaster Races," that 
you would order the book. Have you done so? and 
having done so, how does 3^our ladyship, so con- 
versant on such subjects, like it ? It appeared to me 
very descriptive and animated. There are other good 
poems in the book besides, but " The Doncaster Races " 
have carried away my memory and fancy from them 
entirely. My sister has not been well lately, and for- 
bid to go out, but she is now nearly as well as usual, 
and has braved the cold this morning, wrapped in a 
thick tartan cloak, for about a quarter of an hour, and 
does not seem the worse for it. She unites with me 
in sending all the good wishes of the season to the 
mansion of the Hoo.for its Lord and Lady, and all its 
dear Christmas party. 

Yours, my dear friend. 

Affectionately and gratcfuly, 

J. Baillie. 


Miss Joanna Baillic to Lady Dacre 

February 12, 1837. 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

What do you take me for? Do you think it is 
possible for me to hear of my kind and generous 
friends rejoicing in the success of my dramas, and not 
partake of their feelings? I do feel very much elated, 
and if I were a cock I would flap my wings, and crow 
in the midst of all my feathered companions. No, no ! 
Let those who have always been successful be callous 
to general approbation, I need not be so philosophical; 
therefore 1 honestly say.that I am very proud and very 
triumphant. I am praised ; this is a great thing in the 
estimation of the soundest mind, and I have friends 
who love to have me praised, and this is better still. 
Ay, far better! . . . Yes, friend Harness is happy, for 
he has done me a very friendly service; he has praised 
me heart and soul in Eraser's Magazine, and even 
praised my Comedies, the very kindest thing he could 
do. To Milman, I understand, I am indebted for the 
very favourable review in the Quarterly. And you do 
well, my dear Lady Dacre, to put me in mind of our 
warm and very generous friend, poor Sotheby. His 
kind heart ivoidd have glowed on this occasion, none 
would have felt it more ; but he was my brother in blood, 
as well as in affection, and, though not poetical, had a 
true feeling of nature, and on this ground encouraged 
my dramatic attempts from the first. . . . Let me 
assure your ladyship that you do my library some 
injustice. We have three book-cases in our eating 
parlour, whose shelves contain many good books, both 
old and new ; it is not want of books, but wanting to 
know how to use them, that has made me appear so 
ignorant. Those who have a bad memory often pass 
for being more original than they really are, because 
they know not how or where they get their acquired 
ideas, and cannot, if they would, clothe them in such a 
garb as would make them recognisable. As to the 
other reproach of mending my stockings, I must plead 
guilty as far as black silk stockings are concerned, but 
that, I believe, must soon be done away ; for not long 
since I did by mistake what poor Don Quixote did 
from necessity, mended my black stockings with green 


sewing silk : not blue — that might have had a mean- 
ing in it. 

We shall be very glad to see you coming up the hill, 
dowager fashion, though we shall miss the pleasure of 
seeing you mount your horse, which was always a 
sight well worth looking at. I am very glad to hear 
from Mrs. Sullivan that you are really mending both 
in body and mind, for she says you are becoming 
prudent. I have not seen Miss Faucit,^ but if 
" Separation " should be brought out, we must be 
satisfied, though she should fall short of your gifted 
and clever Fanny.- 

My sister begs to offer her best regards. 

Your affectionate and grateful friend, 

J. Baillie. 

Miss Baillie's Dramas in three volumes were pub- 
lished in 1836. 

[In June 1838 Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan and Barbarina 
Sullivan went to London to see Queen Victoria's 
coronation, and Mrs. Sullivan writes the following 
description of the ceremony to her son Brand, then 
at Eton.] 

Mrs. Frederick Sttllivan to Brand Sullivan 

Friday Evening, Jul}' I, 1838. 

Dearest Bam, — 

Here we are returned from our Coronation, and 
before 1 go to bed I will begin my account of it to 
you. On Wednesday we set off early for London, 
were in Chesterfield Street by twelve ; went to the 
Greys, where I saw Georgiana and Lord and Lady 
Grey, and where Georgiana promised us a third ticket 
for the Abbey ; so we quite settled to take Barbarina. 
Granny and 1 then proceeded in search of flowers, 
gloves, etc., etc., and all things necessary to make us 
decent on the grand occasion. 

We dined at the Codringtons, and Barbarina also 
came there to sleep that she might be ready for the 
next morning. We got up at three, at five Emily Hale 

' [Miss Faucit m.ide Iicr dcbiil in "The Hunchback," 1836.] 
'-' [Miss lanny Kemble.] 


and Miss Field called for us, and we four went in 
a chariot to the Abbey, where we arrived long before 
six. We had places behind the Peers : I will draw 
you a plan. Opposite to us were the Peeresses, and 
It was very pretty to see them come in one by one, 
so that we could see each. Their dress splendid, and 
most graceful with the long, long crimson train, and 
the rich white satin petticoat, and the blaze of jewels, 
their coronets in their hands till the Queen was 
crowned, when every coronet was put on at once. 
In the front row were the Duchesses. The Duchesses 
of Montrose, Richmond, Roxburgh, Leinster, young 
or youngish, and beautiful, and none otherwise, except 
the old Duchess of Richmond. Lady Salisbury, who 
looked quite handsome, and Lady Lothian, who was 
tall, graceful, and very pretty, made up the front row. 
As the sun shone through the different windows, and 
the Peeresses moved, it was a constant sparkling 
and gleaming of brilliancy from the diamonds, that 
amazed and delighted us during the hours of waiting. 

At eleven, the Foreign Ambassadors began to arrive, 
and they came from the west end, were ushered past 
the Peeresses, before whom they stopped and to whom 
they spoke, and then went up a winding stair to their 
box. Prince Estcrhazy, a mass of pearls, with feathers 
of diamonds. Marshall Soult received with great and 
marked attention and respect. When the Queen first 
entered, coming all up the aisle from the west 
end, she sat on the Recognition chair, marked No. 
12, and she stood where I have made a x, while 
the Archbishop asked the four quarters of the Abbey 
if they would take her for their Queen, she, turning 
to each side, as he repeated the words — and the people 
shouted and acclaimed. Then the Bishop of London 
preached a sermon upon her duties as queen, and ours 
as subjects ; and then the anointing and the crown- 
ing we could not see, for it all took place in 
St. Edward's chair. But we saw the Peers and 
Peeresses put on their coronets at the moment. Then 
she came again to the Recognition chair, and from 
thence was supported by Bishops and Archbishops 
up the steps to the throne, and then we saw her very 
well, with her crown on her head, and her train of 
gold which she could scarcely lift. 

Then all the Peers paid their homage, by going up the 


steps to the throne, touching her crown, then kneehng 
and kissing her hand. When the Duke of Wellington 
paid his homage, there was a burst of applause; 
when Lord Anglesea, there was ^another moderate 
applause ; when Lord Grey did, one greater, but not 
equal to the Duke's (just as it should be) ; for Lord Hill 
(a veteran of the Peninsula War), a handsome notice, 
inferior to the others ; and for Lord Melbourne, con- 
siderable applause, with one or two Tory hisses, but 
very gratifying that any notice should be taken of one 
who is not a veteran, either military, or political, 
but in full power with all his foes in full evidence : 
he stood the whole time with the sword of state by 
the Queen's right hand.; he looked very old, 
especially with his coronet on his head, which made 
all the Peers look as if they had their nightcaps on. 
One very old Peer, Lord Rolle, who was supported 
to the steps, tumbled down, and there was a rush to 
help him. The Queen got up from her throne and 
darted to the top step to save his mounting. The old 
fellow persevered, and did his homage, and there was 
a heartfelt burst for the dear Queen, who always com- 
bines youthful, feminine, girlish gentleness, and con- 
sideration for others, with the most perfect royal dignity 
and discretion. I cannot say how young, innocent, 
simple, and meek she looked as she stood by the 
Recognition chair, when the Archbishop presented 
her to us at first as the " Undoubted Sovereign of 
these Realms " to be recognised by us. 1 began to cry, 
and could cry over her at any moment of the twenty- 
four hours. 

After the homage she goes to the altar, takes off 
her crown, and receives the Sacrament. I read all 
the service, and I think it is very beautiful, all of it. 
This we did not see, of course, as it was out of our 
view. I have marked what we could see. In fact, 
no one could see the altar part, except those in the 
seats marked i and 2, 9 and 10, and some of the 
House of Commons perhaj^s, if they were not too 
high, and those above the organ at an immense 
distance. The Queen once more mounted the throne, 
once more withdrew, and at last passed along out of 
the Abbey, when we all began to go at about half- 
past four or five. I walked once about the Abbey, 
went to the altar, and u|) to the throne and looked 


about me, and most beautiful and brilliant was the 
whole. Emily Hale saw everything from her box, and 
Emma Codrington heard the Queen take her oaths ; 
heard her say "I am willing" distinctly, and as if 
she really would keep the laws. Papa went before 
we did to see the procession ; but we got away — I 
and my three young girls — without any man, or any 
difficulty, so well was everything arranged. We got 
in time to run (all in my finery) to Aunt Charlotte's 
in Grosvenor Place, and to see the procession return. 
Very grand and very pretty, and then I went home 
to the Codringtons, and to bed v/ith a headache which, 
however, had kindly kept off till all was over. I had 
a bad night of it, but everybody else walked about 
the town and parks all night to see the fireworks, and 
Papa says he did not see a drunken man, or hear 
an oath, or hear an angry word in the immense dense 
mass of human beings crammed together. Nothing 
but good humour, hilarity, and good order. 

Soult was cheered in the streets several times. The 
Duke of Wellington gave a grand ball at night, at 
which he was; altogether everybody was charming, 
and full of good feeling, and tact — to emulate our 
lovely Queen, I believe. Granny is going again to 
the Queen's ball, although she has never yet been 
at Court, more shame for her ! I hope she will present 
her book on Monday morning. Yesterday, coming out 
of town, we met the Queen driving in an open 
carriage ; and I saw her so well ; in a white chip 
bonnet, very pretty and neat, smiling and looking 
pleased and happy. She was quite a pretty girl, 
with a peculiar sweet and intelligent countenance. 
1 think it is quite a mercy, and one for which we 
cannot be too grateful, that at this moment, when 
Reform has gone far enough, when one feared Liberal, 
or even Republican notions might be gaining too 
much ground, that so very amiable a creature should 
come to the throne, who attaches all good people 
by her virtues, and by her being a young innocent 
woman must enlist on her side every chivalrous feel- 
ing that may survive in this unchiv^alrous age. There, 
I think, I have told you all. I saw Lady Francis 
yesterday morning ; indeed I was kept there two hours 
by a storm, and could do nothing else. 

And now, good-bye, dearest Bam ; keep this letter 

152 "FROGS AND BULLS" [1838 

and plan, for I shall like to refresh my own memory 
about a scene which has given me so much pleasure. 
How much I should have liked to have had you with 
me! How I wish you could have seen it — but it was 
impossible, bless you. 

Your loving mum, 

A. J. Sullivan. 

[The play of '* Frogs and Bulls " had been written 
by Lady Dacre, and acted at the Hoo in 1834 by a 
party of children. The cast was as follows : 

Lady Stately . . . Miss B. C. Sullivan, afterwards 

Hon. Lady Grey. 
Mrs. Midlands . . Miss Julia Whitbread, after- 
wards Countess of Leicester. 

Mabel Miss G. Sullivan. 

Sally Miss G. Whitbread, afterwards 

Mrs. C. Mills. 
Farmer Mudlands . B. F. Sullivan. 
Fifty copies were printed in 1838, and sold at the 
bazaar for the Ophthalmic Hospital.] 

Miss Baillie to Lady Dacre 

August 9, 1838. 
My dear Lady Dacre, — 

Many thanks for your kind gift. The dialogue 
of the " Frogs and Bulls " is very clever and natural, 
though the story which conveys your lesson may be 
somewhat outre. However I ought not to say so, 
for I know one real anecdote quite as absurd as 
anything of the kind can be. " When are you going 
to get your new bonnet?" said a Hamilton woman 
of the lowest order to her neighbour, a girl of the 
same rank. " I dinna ken," said the other ; " I'll just 
wait till the Duchess comes down fra Lunnon, and 
sec what kind o' bonnet she has. I'll ha' mine like 
hers." . . . 

Your refusing my pound for the bazaar has put 
me in condition to subscribe for a work to be published 


by subscription, a " History of theCaliphatof Bagdad" 
by a Mr. Picquot, who has pubHshed some other 
works for young people, and so will probably do it 
well. Being very ignorant of the caliphate, I shall 
gain some instruction by it for myself, and then I 
shall present it to our Circulating Library here, which 
is so poor that the committee can afford to buy very 
few books, and thus I shall make my mite serve a 
double purpose and go far. This same Library is 
a very good institution, though it is poorly supported. 
It is intended for the middling and lower ranks, and 
it receives subscriptions by the quarter from sixpence 
to half a crown. 1 believe it helps to keep some of the 
tradespeople away from the alehouse in the evening, 
and some of the schoolboys from clogging their 
stomachs with tarts. All works of theology are ex- 
cluded, and all novels, with the exception of Miss 
Edgeworth's and Sir Walter Scott's. However, at the 
last committee meeting, it was found that these works 
were so much more read than all the others — history, 
travels, biography — and it would be necessary to allow 
some more novels to be taken if we either hope 
to encrease or even keep up our funds. It was, 
therefore, decreed that some unexceptional novels 
should be added to the stock, and we are now 
in possession of Mrs. Brunton's " Self-control and 
Discipline," Miss Porter's "Thaddeus of Warsaw" and 
the " Scottish Chiefs," to be added to when the funds 
will permit. 

We are very cold on the top of this hill, expecting 
warm weather from day to day which never comes. 
We wish for a fire every morning, but remembering 
that in the calendar we arc in the dog days, we 
prudently put shawls on our shoulders and wait for 
the noon heat, which does now and then comparatively 
comfort us. 

I am engaged now with a book which I ought to 
have known better, Jeremy Taylor's Sermons, or 
rather a selection from them. How I admire the rich- 
ness of the writer's fancy in illustration, and his 
ingenuity in applying his metaphors and imageries, 
and likewise his great insight into human character! 
Yet he is a preacher not much fitted, I should think, to 
make useful impressions upon his audience. It would 
be necessary to rouse up one's wits to follow him, and 


I fear that, after following him distinctly for any length 
of time, one would get conceited of one's wits — a frame 
of mind which he would find out a hundred and fifty 
well-arranged reasons for condemning. 

There are, indeed, many noble passages thoughout, 
which I should like to retain upon my memory, if 
I had a memory that could retain anything. 

Remember me very kindly to Mrs. Sullivan, and 
again let me thank you, my dear Lady Dacre, 

Your truly obliged and affectionate, 

J. Baillie. 

On April 2, 1838, Mr. Bobus Smith writes from 
Cheam, to Lady Dacre : 

I am glad you have the grace to allow that other 
people may be grandmamas as well as you. It is a 
character that 1 have sustained, I flatter myself with 
credit, for some years ; indeed, it has helped me to 
solve a riddle which I could never make out before I 
took to it : videlicet, to what end I was put into this 
odd world — I begin to see now very clearly. 

The next letter of Mr. Smith's which has been kept 
refers to the anxiety respecting Mrs. Sullivan's health. 

I shall hold to your promise of letting me know how 
you get on, for 1 have a great regard for her (Mrs. 
Sullivan), abundantly due to her worth, her talents, and 
her kindness to myself — of that same self I have very 
little to say. 1 have pelted away gout with Colchicum 
as often as it advanced its grim visage, and am pretty 
well for one " qui s'achemine vers la maudite chenue 
vieillesse, qui est le pire de tous les maux de ce 
monde," etc. Indolence and the love of being where I 
am, and dear procrastination— the most bewitching of 
human infii-mities — kept me at Cheam, where I am 
gardener and nurseryman, having two nice little brats 
who, in the absence of their parents, depend upon me 
for all improper indulgences. 

Miss Fox, not content with her flight to Frankfort, 
is just now on the wing with her nephew for Florence, 
where she means to ])ass the winter : never was any- 
thing so well and young — she has even bestowed her 


superfluous energy upon learning German, in which I 
dread her succeeding, for if she docs, 1 don't know 
how I can avoid beginning. I don't like to be over- 
crowed by nobody ! Lord Dacre would chuckle if he 
caught me at sauerkraut in my old age. 

Brand Sullivan to his mother 

Eton College, 
Alarch 8, 1838. 

... I went up to the Terrace on Sunday to see 
the young Queen, who looked much prettier than I 
expected her to look : 1 was quite surprised. She 
looked so good-natured, so quiet, she seemed the sort 
of person with whom one would find oneself quite 
at home in no time. Susan and Tom^ were walking 
with her, but soon left her, which, when I observed, 
I went and paid them a visit. Susan was in, 
but Tom had gone to see after the horses. They 
went off to Brighton, four in an open carriage: the 
Queen, the Duchess of Kent, Susan, Lady Something — 
I forget what — a Lady of the Bedchamber. I went 
again on Tuesday and saw Tom : that time Susan had 
to go to receive the Princess Augusta. I am so much 
obliged for your long letters, and only hope you will 
write again, as I am sure I deserve it. How con- 
siderate it was of you to send me the toothbrush, 
because I should have felt the loss of a shilling greatly. 
By the bye, I miss not being able to buy the new 
"Pickwick Papers," but I suppose 1 shall be able to 
get them in good time. 

About this time he was confined to the house, 
having hurt his knee at some game, and his grand- 
mother sent him the following letter: 

Dear Bam, — 

Since nonsense can avail 

To ease you of your pain, 
'Tis I can furnish it wholesale, 

I've " cut and come again." 

Now Grandpapa, who little knows, 

Or has perhaps forgot, 
The queer materials that compose 

Boys — and girls too, I wot— 
'[Thomas Brand, afterwards 2ist Lord Dacre.] 


May fancy Cicero, perhaps, 

With his " Officiis," 
Homer and Virgil and such chaps, 

Can doctor broken knees ; 

That in old Euclid's crabbed works 

(A book I never saw), 
'Mong minuses and pluses lurks 

The balm " di Fierabras ! " 

If Dr. Wright has no such balm, 

Don't call your Granny liar, 
Oh ! most discourteous knight be calm ! 

Ask your quixotic Squire — 

He'll tell 3'ou that this wondrous cure 

Can sever'd limbs refit, 
But, thanks to Dr. Wright, I'm sure 

You have no need of it. 

Mais revenons a nos mouiotts, 

As the French people say. 
This rambling style's too much the ton 

With poets of the day. 

There's balm, too, in Hexameters, 

Pentameters also. 
On Dactyls and in Spondees, sirs, 

And Prosody, I trow : 

So Wiseacres and big Whigs say. 
But they us young ones trick ; 

We'll fling such classic stuff away 
And send it to Old Nick. 

Nonsense to me is beef and ale. 

Time's malice it prevents. 
For since from age my senses fail, 

What need have I of sense ? 

But hark ! who whispers in my ear 

Nay, look at home ! you use 
In these same doggrel rhymes, my dear, 

The things you so abuse. 

Things nowadays called /<v'/ by us. 
E'en here you mix and mingle. 

And would be else quite in a fuss 
To find your rhymes not jingle. 


I use them, /? What in this place — 

My doggrels to compose ? 
Sans me en doutcr, as was the case 

With Monsieur Jourdain's prose — 

You don't say so? you're in fun? 

You can't think mc Hke him ! 
But if 'tis so, what 1 have done 

Is sure the crime of " skim ! " 

The crime, i.e. of lezc-folic 

(Not of leze Majcste), 
So I had best have done, 1 see, 

Or take care what 1 say. 

For if my deeds disproved my rule 

While I my rule down laid, 
'Tis clear one can't e'en play the fool 

W^ithout some classic aid. 

Then sap away, till you are strong, 

And can both walk and run. 
For tappetit vicnt en meingeant, 

And study will grow fun. 

E'en nonsense, if too much, may clo}' 

And fools tire one another, 
So I'll subscribe myself, dear boy, 

Your ever fond 


Soliloquy before my Glass on Wednesday Morning, 

June 12 

By Lady Dacre 

It can't be my Glass, that each day in this place. 
Has said such home plain-spoken things to my face, 
And to which the French maxim I never made clear, 
" Que toute verite n'est pas bonne a dire! " 
Sure, I'm mightily freshen'd by last night's long nap— 
For I would not attribute the zvholc to my cap ! 

Upon my word — joking apart — to be calm — 
Younger faces to that might surrender the palm ! 


The person must surely be but ill to please 
Who, at what I see yonder reflected, could sneeze ! 
I thought my charms gone without leaving a scrap, 
But like giants refreshed, they revive in the cap ! 

'Tis now half a century since a soft thing 

Has been felt on my tympanum's surface to sing ; 

That may be the reason I'm deaf, for observe 

The things out of use lose their power to serve. 

But now, without Gulliver's flappers to flap, 

I shall catch what's but whispered to me in my cap. 

Yes, thus armed for conquest, I never can fail. 
Triumphant to lead in my chains all that's male. 
You now may go whistle, young girls, for a beau, 
For here is another Ninon de 1' Enclos ! 
And dandies will struggle, like mice in a trap, 
Entangled within the thread-net of my cap. 

A fig for insipid slim chits of sixteen, 

There are swarms of such things everywhere to be 

seen ; 
The charms that assert themselves after three-score 
Are charms one can trust to hold out some years more ; 
Then at Time and his scythe I my fingers may snap, 
While dear Cousin Mary will furnish a cap. 


Death of Mrs. Sullivan— Letters to Lady Dacre from Joanna I5aillie 
and Miss Mitford— Letter to Lord and Lady Dacre from Mr. 
Bobus Smith— Lady Grey's notes to her nieces— Letters from 
Lady Burghersh, Mr. Bobus Smith, Lord Dacre— Imitation from 
Clarendon's " History of his own Times"— Fables by Lady Dacre 
—Death of Brand Sullivan— Letters from Mr. Bobus Smith— Mr. 
Sullivan's second marriage — Letters from Fanny Kcmble to 
Barbarina Sullivan— From Mr. Bobus Smith to Lady Dacre— 
Lady Grey's notes— Lady Dacre to her granddaughter— Sir E. 
Bulwer Lytton to Lady Dacre. 

About this time my mother's health began to fail, 
and my father took her to pay a visit at Howick, 
hoping the change would be of service. She came 
back, however, no better ; consumption declared itself, 
and she died on January 27, 1839. My poor Granny 
was broken-hearted at the loss of her only child, 
who had hardly been separated from her even by 
marriage — Kimpton Vicarage being only two miles 
from the Hoo, and the village half-way between the 
two, so the intercourse was at least daily. Her only 
consolation was in devoting herself to her grand- 
children, and we were as constantly with her as 
possible without actually living with her. 

Miss Baillie to Lady Daax 


January 1839. 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

It was with deep concern that I yesterday learnt, 
by means of Mrs. Taylor, the heavy stroke, for so long 
a time apprehended, has at last fallen upon you. It 



has pleased God to remove the dear object of your 
love, she who was justly the child of your affection, 
in whom the pride of a mother's heart was gratified, 
to a better world, and what words can I say that will 
be of any avail ? Her death has broken many ties of 
domestic happiness, and the course of her virtuous and 
useful life has been terminated early ; but length of 
days, we are told, is not to be reckoned by time, for a 
well-spent life is as the honours of grey hairs and old 
age to the righteous, and your daughter is not cut off 
in her existence, but promoted. She has left much in 
this world that heaven had blessed her with, but what 
she has gained by it, who shall say ? But it is not 
presumption to be assured that the kind benevolence 
of her heart, with the good deeds springing from it, 
the uncommon talents she possessed, and of which 
she made such an excellent use, for His sake Who 
died for us all, has placed her among those who are 
exalted and happy beyond what we upon earth have 
power to imagine or comprehend. Be comforted then, 
my dear friend ; the daughter you have lost is of more 
value than many living daughters. 

In your last letter you say, " We have none of us 
long to live," and this comes forcibly and soothingly 
upon the mind when those we love are taken away. 
1 o us particularly, who are advanced in life, it seems 
such a short separation that the expression of farewell 
is scarcely applicable to it. God bless you and support 
you under your heavy affliction, and may He also 
support the bereft husband and your good lord, who 
will, I know, share deeply in your sorrow ! My sister 
begs leave to offer her sympathy and condolence. 

Before we left town (for we have been in Cavendish 
Square for better than a week and only returned liome 
to-day), I was desired by Mrs. Taylor to say how 
deeply she regrets your loss, and sympathises in your 
sorrow. She had some intention of writing to you, 
but Mrs. Baillie dissuaded her from it, knowing that 
many letters in time of affliction are oppressive. 
Though 1 much long to know how you bear up 
under this trial, I do not expect, or even wish, to 
have a letter from you. There is, I am sure, some 
one at the Hoo who will, at your desire, write me a few 
lines ; and if some mention is made in tlie note of 
Mrs. Taylor's sympathy and inquiries it will be well. 


I need not say, my dear Lady Daere, how much 1 
have thought of you lately; and since 1 heard of the 
sad event my heart has been with you entirely. 
Always affectionately and gratefully yours, 

J. Baillie. 

Miss Mitford to Lady Dacre 

Three-Mh.k Cross, 
February i, 1839. 

Unavailing as all expressions of sympathy must be, 
1 .cannot, most dear and kind Lady Dacre, see the 
sorrowful announcement in to-day's paper without 
conveying to you the assurance of the sincere feeling 
with which my dear father and myself are thinking of 
your distress. Many will feel with you, for she whom 
you have lost was distinguished not only for talent of 
highest order, but for a truth in her pathos, and a 
soundness and excellence of purpose in all her writings, 
which formed a very rare and valuable exception to 
the general morbid and unhealthy tone of the prose 
fiction of the age. In short, there was a thorough 
right-mindedness to guide and direct all her efforts, 
whether for the rich or for the poor, and respect and 
esteem waited upon the works and their authoress 
in as full measure as praise and admiration. All this 
is but reminding you of what you have lost, but the 
time will come when the thought that she was appre- 
ciated will bear with it comfort as well as pain. 

You will have heard, probably, from our dear friend, 
Mr. llarness, that I have experienced a severe trial, 
terminating most mercifully, in my dear father's tre- 
mendous illness and extraordinary recovery. It has 
pleased God to restore him to me in a manner almost 
unprecedented, when the nature of the disease and 
his age are taken into consideration. 

Most earnestly do I hope that Lord Dacre and your- 
self, and the many still left to you, are as well as can 
be hoped after so grievous an affliction. You that 
have been so very, very good to me : how sad it is that 
I have only my poor but powerless sympathy and my 
sincere prayers for your consolation to offer to you ! 
May heaven be with you, dearest Lady Dacre ! 

Lver your obliged and grateful friend and servant, 

M. R. Mitford. 


Mr. Bobus Smith writes to Lord Dacre, February 5, 

My dear Dacre, — 

I thank you heartily for the relief your letter 
gives me. I have, indeed, felt for you all very deeply 
and anxiously, and have earnestly wished to write to 
you, but have been checked by the recollection how 
often I have myself felt the vanity — the importunity of 
all that could be said. I know full well the succession 
of feelings you so justly describe, and I know, too, the 
patience that may be called up and wrought into a 
habit of the mind by religious and moral reflection. 

Give my affectionate regards to your wife. No one 
could be more alive than I am to the value of what 
she has lost — may I be allowed to say of what we have 
lost — for few persons have ever made so deep an im- 
pression upon me of worth and kindness and talent 
as her admirable daughter. God bless you all and 
sustain you. 

Your old and affectionate friend, 

R. S. 

To Lady Dacre Mr. Smith writes, March 6 : 

I am very glad to see your handwriting again, my 
dear Lady, on all accounts, but chiefly because to 
resume old habits is a main step towards regaining 
as much of self-possession as can be regained after 
these terrible visitations. I should be very ungrateful 
and insensible to the qualities which have always com- 
manded my regard through life, if 1 had not gone fast 
in making our new friendship into an old one. We 
had, you know, to help us on, a sponsor to whom we 
both gave implicit credit. For my part I am ready to 
own he did not pledge himself a bit too far, and if you 
can say as much the affair is settled for life. You are 
right, my dear friend — wisely and religiously right — in 
facing with a brave heart the duties which your loss 
has cast more directly upon 3^ou. This is the resolu- 
tion which supports us in this harsh world. When all 
the illusions we call happiness have departed from us, 
there is still a stubborn patience to be had in the sense 
that we fill the place and do the will of those whom 
wc loved. 1 feel for Mr. Sullivan sincerely. 1 saw 


enough of his happiness to judge what his bereavement 
must be. 

I will not fail to forward your letter to Miss Fox. 
She has with a very laudable energy, and hitherto 
with great success, accomplished an expedition which 
will till her mind with pleasant remembrances for the 
rest of her life. One is apt to take old age too much 
for granted ; there is a great deal of voluntary life at 
the bottom of the vessel, if we will but shake. . . , 

June 14. — The small worries of the world which you 
loathe, and so do I, are nevertheless not witliout their 
efficacy in forming the callous— that imperfect healing, 
the only one that can be had. Do not put yourself 
out of the way of them, but suffer them to work their 
sure effect under the controul of that great principle, 
the only wisdom — submission to the will of Providence. 
" Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done," comprise the 
whole of religion and philosophy. God bless you and 
give you strength to lay these beautiful words with all 
their deep meaning to your heart, and find the same 
support in them as I have found. 

After my mother's death we had for a short time a 
Swiss governess, whom we liked, but she did not feel 
equal to the position, and would not stay. She was 
succeeded by one whom we did not like, but who felt 
herself equal to any position, and would gladly have 
stayed, I now believe, permanently. My father was 
still a young man, and I did not then understand why 
he used to sit in the porch with me evening after 
evening, but now can see that he was driven away 
by the lady's attentions. 

She knew, I suppose, a fair amount of French, but 
she did not know Italian half as well as we did, and 
my sister and I took a mischievous pleasure in rattling 
through our Italian reading at a pace which fairly 
" floored " her, though she was ashamed to confess 
that she could not follow. She did not manage the 
two boys well, but was always making them unhappy, 
and she was a vulgar-minded woman. Some of the 


jokes that she made, which I did not understand then, 
come back upon me now as incredible in their coarse- 
ness. I could not endure her, and was, I daresay, very 
insubordinate. At last we had a downright quarrel, 
which ended in her declaring that she would not be 
dictated to by " a chit of seventeen," whereupon 
followed my writing to my Grandmother to say that 
I could bear it no longer, and that my sister and I 
would go on with our own education, and teach the 
boys all that was necessary till they went to school, 
if only we might be released from such an odious 

We could hardly believe in our success when we 
found that she was to go, I believe my father was 
quite as well pleased as we were, and all went on 
capitally. I was rather young to be the ruler of the 
house and household, but we had no troubles, and my 
father never complained of bad dinners or bad manage- 
ment, while the lessons went on with the utmost 
regularity, and we taught ourselves and our brothers 
a great deal more than the obnoxious governess 
ever did. 

The boys first went to school at Brighton, and then 
to the Charterhouse — Frank on the foundation, nomi- 
nated by Lord Grey, Harry to Mr. Phillott as a 
boarder. Frank went to sea from the Charterhouse. 

My mother's death was a heart-breaking blow to 
my Granny, whose devotion to her daughter had been 
that of her life, and she never got over it. To her 
grandchildren she gave the affection that she had 
given to her daughter, but they could not take her 
place. Lord Dacre used to speak of Kimpton as the 
*' Happy Valley," but many sorrows now came one 
after the otlier, and he gave up the name. 

This very interesting letter from I'riscilla Lady 


Burghersh, whose short Memoirs were published a few 
years ago, refers, I think, to a statue that Wyatt was 
to execute of the Duke of WeHington. Lady Dacre 
often visited the studios of the sculptors of those 
days, and was much consulted by them, especially 
with regard to equestrian statues. The allusion at 
the end of the letter is to the death of Mrs. Sulliwin. 

Sunday ci'cni/iji^, February 23, 1840 (?). 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

I saw the Duke this morning, and asked him the 
question about his ever having written on horseback. 
He said it was his constant practice in action, and 
particular!}^ latterly, to write down the orders he sent 
by his aide-de-camps. Having found that verbal 
orders were either incorrectly delivered or not com- 
prehended, he adopted the practice of carrying in his 
pocket loose sheets of asses' skin of the size of a large 
card (such as the invitations from Court are printed 
upon) and a Pencil, and when he had an order 
to send he wrote it with his Pencil on one of those 
sheets in his hand, the aide-de-camp standing at his 
horse's head the while. After the Battle these sheets 
were always brought back to him by the Officers to 
whom they had been sent. One of them in particular 
he mentioned to me, which he wrote on nis horse 
during the Battle of Waterloo, giving directions for 
the defence of Hougoumont, and I think I could get 
that identical order for you to see, as I know the 
person to whom he afterwards gave it as a Relic, and 
who is not likely to have parted with it. I thought 
you would like to hear these details, coming fresh 
"from his lips. He liked entering into them and 
recalling the facts. 

I hope I shall see you again soon, for indeed my 
heart yearns towards you, though it aches the while. 
I have thought so much of you and grieved so deeply 
for you ever since 1 knew the happiness you so 
enjoyed had been taken from you. Excuse me for 
saying thus much, and 

Believe me, 

Ever yours sincerely, 



Mr. Bobus Smith writes : 

20, Savile Row, 
September 12, 1840. 

Thanks, my dear Lady, hearty thanks for the 
pleasure your letter gave to me. First, when I found 
it on my return here on Monday ; second, when I 
read it over again just now. It is not everybody, I can 
tell you, that I read twice over ; but there is a brisk- 
ness of courage in your tone which does me good, and 
above all a kindness which I should be very insensible 
and very ungrateful if I did not feel. You put your 
Queries so methodically that I must answ^er them in 

First, how am 1 going on ? Why, I am going on 
much as an old fellow does (if going off can be called 
going on). I am endeavouring to conjure up a new 
set of illusions in place of those that are gone; but it 
is poorish w'ork. 

Second, do 1 keep the deviP out? Pretty well, 
pretty well ; he has not such a pleasant, wheedling 
way of getting in as he had forty or fifty years ago. 
He comes now in his own shape, grumbling and 
blaspheming against the course of nature, etc., etc. ; 
and as to that I am upon my guard, and buffet him 
w'ith tolerable success. You know how.^ 

Third, have I enjoyed this delicious autumn ? Very 
heartily ; the enjoyment of fine weather has always 
been to me one of the most unalloyed satisfactions in 
life, and I do not find it lessen with age — rather, 
perhaps, increase. 

Fourth, have I pleasant people to enjoy it with, or 
do I commune only with myself and my gardener ? 
I have with me my children and my grandchildren, 
than whom nobody can have better, and they are a 
very great blessing to me ; but the enjoyment of fine 
weather is to me an unsocial feeling : I like it best 
when alone. Lastly, 1 commune with my flowers ; 
never, if I can help it, with my gardener— not but my 
gardener is very well for an animal, but I prefer 
vegetables. Thus, my dear Lady, you have my 
uneventful history, and this sample would serve for 
many years past, and in all probability for the few 
which arc to come. If I can find repose, it is all I 
look for. 

' [Gout.] ■■* [Colchicum.] 


Sydney is, I believe, as well as he can be in the 
country. I think, with you, that his state was not 
quite satisfactory last sprnig, and I am always afraid 
of his way of treatini^ himself. He is medecin malgre 
lui to everybody but himself 

I have fired a note to my lord, on the strength of 
your letter, to come and dine with us gossipingly. I 
hope he will. Miss Fox, I think, is surprisingly well ; 
she is at this moment doing duty with Lady Holland 
at Holland House — an experiment — and goes, 1 believe, 
with her from thence to Brighton. 

Scp/oiiber 2,0, 1840. 

You are very good, my dear Lady, to let my fantastic 
humours pass off with such a gentle rebuke — your 
kindness makes me half ashamed of myself; neverthe- 
less, I think you a good deal underrate the petty 
annoyances which beset an old fellow when he steps 
out of his roundabout and sleeps out of his own bed. 
Take them one by one they are trifling, but their 
cumulative force is great. The hop from England to 
India is nothing to the hop from thirty to seventy. It 
is that confounded hop that jars and strains and puts 
us out of breath for any further exertion. If I could 
wish myself among you, I should have sincere pleasure 
in seeing you engaged with your young ones in a task 
in which you have wisely and virtuously sought and 
found relief. I am, as you know, not without ex- 
perience of the same effects from the same causes. You 
have everything to cheer you in the disposition of your 
grandchildren ; of some of them I can speak now as 
old acquaintances. 

I am sure Sydney will be very glad to see Mr. 
Sullivan and Barbarina if anything takes them into 
his neighbourhood, 

Mr. Smith writes, November 13, 1840, after the death 
of Lord Holland : 

I am very much gratified by your letter, my dear 
Lady, and heartily thank you for it. Never let a man 
persuade you— not even your husband, although he is 
one of the best of us — to say " no " to your woman's 
heart, when it yearns to express compassion. To you, 
and not to us, belong comforting and soothing. I have 
lost one of the few friends of my whole life — a man 


whom I need not say I valued and loved, because 
everybody who knew him did so, just in the degree 
in which they knew him. He was a very rare union 
of everything that creates and continues attachment in 
minds of any worth. I have seen less of him lately, 
from m}'' own, perhaps, bad habit of shrinking from 
the trammels of Society, without which one cannot 
have the very small part one desires to have of it ; but 
I do not the less feel that the world without him is not 
what it was to me or any of his friends. His poor 
sister, I have, of course, seen frequently ; she bears 
up wonderfully at present, sustained partly by the 
notion of performing duties towards him, but I fear 
after a while the privation will fall heavily on her 
spirits — it can hardly be otherwise. I delivered your 
kind message to her, and she begged me to thank you 
cordially for it. She has gone for the present to 
Westhill, with Lady H. They were to have gone to 
Brocket, but it was found the house, which had been 
little inhabited, was not in a condition to receive them 
immediately — it is preparing, and they may possibly 
go there ; but I think it more probable Lady Holland 
will find her resources to be, where in fact they are, in 
London. Ever3'body has shown the strongest disposi- 
tion to do what is kind. God bless you, my dear Lady ; 
at our time of life we hold on from day to day — 
indeed, at what time of life do we not? I grasp as 
firmly as I can my faith in the wisdom and beneficence 
of the Power that placed us here, and in that I find 
such rest as can be had on the truckle-bed of old age. 

Give my love to my Lord, and believe me, the 
sincere and affectionate friend of you both. 

R. S. 

I wrote the following sonnet to Lord Dacre, and 
sent it to him at the New Year : 

To Lord Dacre, Nf.w Year's Day, 1841 

To thee, so kind, so gen'rous, so benign, 
Honoured and loved by all, nor least by me, 
J dedicate my verse. Grandsirc, to thee, 
My Ward — for I will not that name resign. 
I would that 1 could here with skill combine 


The powers of all the bards to wish thee free 
From all infirmities, whate'er they be, 
Which make thee at the loss of youth repine. 
But heart-felt wishes must the place supply 
Of pleasini^ numbers, and of lofty lay. 
Oh, may thy strcnj^-th th' effects of age defy, 
And may'st thou still on many a New Year's Day 
Gladden the smile, and chase away the sigh 
E'en as the sun cheers all beneath his ray ! 

B. C. Sullivan, 

To which he replied : 

Saturday, December 19, 1841. 

My dear, dear Guakdi, — 

I never, but once, was so gratified and touched 
by any suffrage as by your very pretty Sonnet, and 
that once, by a similar effusion of your beloved and 
blessed mother, written too about the same period of 
life! Hers was a character in imitation of Clarendon, 
and very beautiful and very powerful it was — indicative 
of her great genius — and to this instant, evidence of 
performance which her more mature genius amply 
testified. I believe it is still in existence, but I have 
it not ; I wish 1 had. 

May you advance to the same degree of excellence, 
of which you give fair promise by moving on the same 
path ! I love you dearly ; I cannot wish you more or 
better in this state of being. 

Your Sonnet is in itself of all pr.ettiness and cor- 
rectness. Your poor dear Granny cried torrents of 
pleasure in reading it, and big round drops, rolling 
down her poor sleeve, were of a most soothing and 
tender nature. God bless you, dearest Guardi. 

Your affectionate 


The following is the imitation of Clarendon, alluded 
to by Lord Dacre : 

The Lord Derwent was a gentleman of so excellent 
a judgment, such undoubted patriotism, and such per- 
fect honour, that although his name may not so fre- 
quently appear in the public transactions of these 
troublesome times as that of several busy and med- 
dling persons of slender capacity whom 1 have before 


mentioned, yet had it more influence on the minds of 
most members of either House than that of almo?t any 
other single man whom I can call to mind. Ir. early 
life, perhaps, his opinions savoured too much of Re- 
publicanism, but in maturer age this enthusiasm sub- 
sided into an enlightened, sober, but ardent desire 
of lawful and reasonable Liberty. The clearness of his 
judgment, the justice and liberality of his character, 
deserved and received such universal respect, that he 
was not unfrequently made umpire in private disputes 
between persons wholly unknown to him ; and his 
philanthropy was of so extensive a nature that, although 
peculiarly averse to litigation, he never could refuse 
himself to any possible manner of benefiting his fellow 
creatures. In truth, the sensitive tenderness of his 
feelings was tempered by so rare a measure of dis- 
cretion that it would be impossible to imagine a person 
more fitted to conciliate the minds of contending 

His manners were gentle, his voice melodious, his 
countenance thoughtful even to melancholy, but if 
roused by what he considered presumption or im- 
pertinence, they could suddenly become expressive 
of all the pride and dignity which formed no incon- 
siderable part of his character. He had studied most 
branches of useful science, he was well acquainted 
with the business and sports of a countr}^ life, he 
had seen much of the Continent, and he had lived 
among the principal personages of his own country, 
so that on whatever subject a discourse might chance 
to turn, it appeared as ii that subject had principally 
occupied his thoughts and attention. Indeed, I have 
not known any one possessed of such universal know- 
ledge, or who by the strength and clearness of his 
own intellect, and by the perspicuity of his language, 
could so distinctly convey what he himself understood 
(and his mind was of so comprehensive a nature that 
nothing seemed too vast for its powers) to the under- 
standing of the person with whom he conversed. 

He was warm in his aff'ections, constant in his 
nature, slow to anger; but if there could be found 
any shadow to obscure so bright a picture, it nught 
be said that, if once off"cnded, he did not sufficiently 
practise the difficult maxim of forgetting as well as 
forgiving an injury. Perhaps, also, the acutcness of 


his feelings might sometimes degenerate into irrita- 
bility, so that a well-intentioned person, not en- 
dowed with that quiekness of perception termed by 
our French neighbours tact, might often offend the 
delicacy of his temj^erament. His stature was above 
the middle size, his visage was well formed, his com- 
plexion pale, his health indifferent, his spirits habitu- 
ally depressed, but occasionally rising to hilarity 
when he exerted himself for the recreation of young 
persons, towards whom, indeed, he always evinced a 
surprising kindness. 

In truth, my Lord Derwent was a rare mixture of 
pride and dignity with urbanity and gentleness, of a 
strong and cultivated understanding with simplicity 
of manner. He was a man to be respected by all 
who knew his public character, and to be loved by 
all who were admitted to his privacy. 

(Clarendon's " History of His Own Times," vol. i. 
P- 293-) 

The following fables were written by Lady Dacre 
during 1842 : 

The Knife, Fork, and Spoon 

A Dramatic Fable 

A Knife and a Fork at the Hoo in a tray. 

Side by side as old chums and companions once lay. 

Says the Fork to the Knife: " You queer, old-fashioned 

Do get out of my way, that I here ma}^ be cool. 
You jostle and cramp me. Begone, I entreat. 
You are put on the shelf, my good friend, obsolete — 
And no longer of service when folks sit at meat." 
The Knife bristled up very sharp and cried, " Sir! 

Do you know who you speak to ? D me if I stir. 

Who are you, sir, I ask ? such a dust here to kick up, 
What can you do I wonder? excepting to pick up 
The morsels I cut and on saucy prongs stick up ! " 
" Good Knife, you're quite vulgar in your objurgations, 
You're really low-bred, so are all your relations. 
Spade, mattock, and ploughshare, and all their rude 

Rudely fashioned, by rude hands to rude labour 



In the Dark Ages, passe, but times, good Knife, vary ! 

And you're (finic ignorance in the art culinary. 

I really pity you." " Pity me, sir ! " cries Knife, 

" Get out of the tray if you value your life ! 

My steel for your silver is more than a match, 

If under my edge your soft metal I catch ! " 

" You creature of low birth from mine European," 

Quoth Fork, " I contend not with things so plebeian, 

While I to the New World my ancestry trace, 

And thanks to Columbus the Old World now grace." 

A good-humoured Spoon, finding words run so high. 

To keep the peace now interposed, and cried, " Fie ! 

Keep your tempers, good folks ; what will Holloway ^ 

If he finds you at logger-heads thus in the tray ! 
We all serve one lord — we are none of us free — 
No distinction but merit can Spoon of sense see. 
I am indiff'erent honest myself, I may say 
With Prince Hamlet in Shakespeare's fine play, 
And my character, sirs, stands as high as a Spoon 
As if I had been dug out of the moon. 
But to business. Ours, ict bas, is with food. 
Leave the soup, friends, to me. You, Knife, may do 

With joints a I'Anglaise (i.e. tough as wood). 
And you, my compatriot Fork, may discuss 
The viands refined in dinners a la Rnssc — 
In consommes plunge all your prongs. Nota bene, 
Have an eye to his Lordship throughout the whole 

Who best serves his master will be esteemed most. 
Hark ! the dinner-bell sounds ; let us each to his 


B. D. 

The Bird and the Fish 
A Fable addressed to a very young lady 

A little fish lived in a stream, 

As fishes sometimes do ; 
This fish could speak, as it should seem. 

Much plainer, miss, than you. 

' [The butler.] 


One day he popped his busy snoul 

Out of the water's sheen, 
To sec what others were about 

Upon the margin green. 

And there he saw a beauteous bird 

Upon a bough aUght, 
His sweetly warbled carol heard, 

And marked his plumage bright. 

" Oh my ! oh gracious goodness ! oh ! " 
Exclaimed th' enraptured fish, 

" Just so I'd sing ! I'd look just so 
If I could have my wish. 

" What ample wings out-spreading wide ! 

I wonder for what sins 
I'm doomed to wear, stuck to my side, 

These littly fubsy fins ? 

" How hard 'tis, too, to have but gills 

Dabbed on to my short neck. 
While happy birds are blessed with bills 

That can both sing and peck. 

" What could old Nature be about, 

With feathers of all hues 
Her petted bird thus to stick out 

And be so ill to use ? 

" I dare say I like him could sing, 

And I like him could look. 
Could I but make a fin a wing, 

And leave this poky brook." 

And now, by desperation stung. 

Resolved to fly or die. 
Himself he floundering, floushing, flung 

Upon the bank hard by. 

A man who'd angling been all day 

And not a bite could brag, 
Pounced on this godsend of a prey 

And popped it in his bag. 

E'en there our poor loquacious fish 

His mind in anguish spoke. 
And prescient of the fatal dish 

On which he soon would smoke, 


He gasping, struggling, heaving, spent, 

His gills with effort plying 
To seek the watery element, 

Cried out as he was dying : 

" Oh, had I unambitious been. 

Contented with my lot. 
The fr3nng-pan I ne'er had seen 

Or bubbled in the pot ! " 
1842. B. D. 

My eldest brother. Brand, went away in 1842 with 
Mr. George Egerton, afterwards Lord Ellesmere, and 
his tutor, and this was thought a most delightful 
piece of good fortune — my mother's friend Harriet 
Lady Ellesmere, having chosen Brand for her sake. 
But at Athens he got fever, and died on board 
Admiral Houston Stewart's ship, the Benbow. The 
kindness of Admiral and Mrs. Stewart was unbounded, 
and when I knew them afterwards, I saw that it was 
of a piece with their whole conduct through life. 

Mr. Bobus Smith wrote from Cheam, April i, 1842 : 

Indeed, my dear Lady, you do me no more than 
justice in believing that you have been often in rny 
thoughts. To write to you I could not find it in 
my heart, for what consolation had I to suggest that is 
not to be found in the few words that you quote, and 
which I well remember to have pressed upon you as 
having myself felt their efficacy — in truth, neither 
philosophy nor religion can carry us any further ; in 
whatever courses we travel over the subject, our 
reason and our feelings return to the sense of an 
ovcr-ruHng power, and agree in convincing us that 
resignation is the only magnanimity and wisdom. But 
alas! it is not easy to be magnanimous and wise: 
honest nature, as you truly say, will break out and 
have her turn ; and, God help her, why should she 
not ? For whatever end we have been burthencd, as 
we are, with grief and rare, there can be no duty in an 
overstrained stoicism that would blot out the remem- 


brancc of what has been best and most praiseworthy 
in our lives. This you feel as strongly as 1 do, my 
dear Lady, and your natural and touching expression 
of it gives me great satisfaction. We have but a short 
way to go, and 1 can say for myself at least that every 
year indicates the journey's end more plainly. The 
thought of this is a powerful assertative, and is put in 
the best of all prayers by the side of the great precept 
of resignation. 

I beg you to convey the expression of my strong 
regard and sympathy to Mr. Sullivan, and remember 
me very affectionately to my old friend, in whom I 
believe imagination (apt to be torpid in old men) is 
powerfully alive on the subject of ill-health. God 
bless you and sustain you, or rather help you, as He 
appears to do, in sustaining yourself; and when you 
have an idle half-hour, let me have the pleasure of 
hearing that you continue in the same worthy and 
truly pious command over yourself as you have done 

Mr. Bobus Smith to Lady Dacrc 

Savile Row, 
May 20, 1 842. 

I have been Whitsuntiding among my flowers, which, 
like their master, are always promising to be in per- 
fection next week ; but then come colds and blights 
and storms and droughts and reptiles : and so we go 
on till we go off. The most noxious invader of my 
growing virtues is, 1 think, the Slug Indolence : whole 
crops of good resolutions disappear before it in a day. 
In spite of all the visits I make and all the letters 1 
write every to-morrow in the week I am no forwarder 
on the Saturday, lliere is so little encouragement to 
resolving that i must leave it off, and wrap myself up 
snugly once for all in my evil habits ; and what an 
office do you assign to an old fellow so desperately 
determined to talk sense to a young lady of eighteen, 
till she finds out that she likes a young fellow's non- 
sense better ! Why, my dear Lady, my functions would 
not be worth a week's purchase, and if I were honest, 
I should tell her so from my own experience. Let 
coxcombs have their run ; it is a bad plan to attempt 
staving them off: they will come sooner or later. I 


verily believe the way to be wise when you are old is 
to be moderately foolish while you are young. What 
a fool is an old man, or an old woman, who has never 
been foolish ! They make no allowances, and ten to 
one but they require some before they have done. 
You see, I have no notion of my aptitude for a teacher 
of wisdom ; but if you want a singing master, for 
instance, I am ready to do my best at your service. 
Barbarina will remember I gave her one lesson. At 
all events, I shall be glad to see her and you too, and 
will not only go to you, but hope you will come to me, 
which you know is only a little worse than being 
alone;" and it will do you good to change even from 
nobody to nobody. The fashion of this world passeth 
away, but while it holds, believe me. 

Sincerely yours, 

R. S. 

Mr. Bobits Smith to Lady Dacre 

September 20, 1842. 

I devote to you the first work of my right hand — 
before the receipt of your letter and ever since en- 
thralled by the gout. You poets have nimble fancies ; 
you sketch out gardens of Epicurus, and people them 
with Platos and Pythagorases at will. Alack for the 
reality ! First as to the garden. A glorious summer, 
1 admit, for trees and shrubs, who laid in a great store 
of sap in a very wet spring, and have made a noble 
use of it ; but for flowers, the fierce heat and long 
drought has absolutely prevented their existence : 
hardly an annual of all my thousands has made its 
appearance. So much for the " snifting " half of the 
occupation you assign to me ; for the philosophising 
I have, perhaps, done a little better. 1 comfort myself 
in thinking 1 do make some progress in the art of 
enduring the crosses I cannot help ; a grand art — as 
necessary in the small as in the great concerns of life, 
and the practice in either strengthens the hand in 
both. The subjects I have had to work upon have 
not been merely negative ; I am recovering from the 
sharpest attack I have had these five years. 

I am, you will easily believe, highly flattered with 
my conquest of Barbarina. The natural ellect was to 


make me look about with a little jealousy, and knowing 
the subsisting engagements between her and Grevy/ 
I ventured to ask him the other day if he was still in 
the mind to marry her. After a little pause to consider, 
he said, "Think if she were a little 3^ounger 1 would." 
Pray tell her, with my best regards ; for the moral may 
be useful for all very old people. 

As to visits, I think 1 have before opened my mind 
to you without reserve. The infirmities I have, and 
which not only every year, but every day, I may 
except to increase, make going from home a sore 
evil to me. It is one, however, which I would have a 
thousand times rather endure than seem to reject any 
kindness sincerely pressed upon me by an old friend, 
to whom I am not sure of making the reasons of my 
reluctance fully understood. This, and feelings like 
this, have made me undertake a distant pilgrimage 
this year, as soon as I shall be strong enough to 
perform it — no less than to Durham. I will tell you 
more about it another time than I can now for the 
weariness of my fingers. If, all things considered, 
you wish me to pay you a visit after I return, I will, 
with the certainty of feeling great pleasure in the 
social part of it ; but still, I must honestly say, with the 
uneasiness and apprehension of not being at home, 
where, in most serious truth, I am only fit to be. God 
bless you, my dear friend ; I will not advert to painful 
topics, but I feel with great admiration your courage 
and wisdom. 

Mr. Bob us Smith to Lady Dacre 

Savile Row, 
Decetnber i6, 1842. 

A thousand thanks for your kindness, my dear Lady ; 
I cannot feel it more sensibly than when it is shown to 
my grandchildren. Fitz^ would, 1 am sure, have joyfully 
accepted your invitation, if he had been at home, but 
the 20th is the very day he comes from Durham, and 
the rules will not allow of any anticipation. 

I cannot give you a very good account of myself; I 
am continually molested by my enemy, so that 1 cannot 
count upon forty-eight hours of my own. No great 

' [His youngest grandson.] 

* [His eldest grandson, then at Durham College.] 



pain or any decided illness, but lameness and inability, 
shifting from one limb to another, 1 know not why, 
and interfering with my everyday's routine very 
uncomfortably. I try to be as patient as 1 can, but 
trying it is more perhaps than greater evils. Miss Fox 
is at Bowood, where I was to have joined her about 
Christmas, but it is ten to one that I am intercepted. 
She felt Lady Callcott's death, though it is impossible 
not to regard it as a release — to whom is it not a release 
for one reason or other at our fag end of life, when it 
has really become a day "nubile, oscuro, freddo e pien 
di noia ? " However, I will not whine, but hold fast by 
my past and abide. 

We all move to Cheam to-morrow, if I should be 
movable, which is uncertain. The weather is like 
May. God bless you and all yours. 

Your very sincere friend, 
R. S. 

My father married Miss Emily Ames in 1842, This 
was by no means a sorrow, for we were all very fond 
of her, and my Granny welcomed her as kindly as 
any one; but her health was not strong, and in 1843 
she was most alarmingly ill. At that time, too, my 
sister Gertrude had begun to give great anxiety as to 
her health, and the two invalids had to be taken to 
London for advice. My stepmother recovered, but was 
never really strong afterwards. 

Mr. Bobiis SiiiitJi to Miss B. C. Sullivan 

March 19, 1843. 

Many thanks, dear Barbarina, for your kind and 
early compliance with my request, which you mainly 
brought upon 3'ourself by your beautiful recital. Tlie 
verses to which yf)U did so much justice arc remarkably 
good. The thought which runs through them is not, 
and could not be, new, since the first reflection of any 
enlightened human being upon human life; but it is 
very finely carried out to the religious moral at the end. 
The rhythm is somewhat rough : it is a fault better 
suited to the gravity of the subject than if it were too 

i843] FANNY KEMBLE 179 

smooth, but it is a fault still. Give my love to Granny, 
or as much of it as she will have, and if there is not 
enough left for you, 1 will send you some more, being 
well stocked with that commodity for you all. 

Yours aAectionately, 
R. S. 

This note refers to the lines by Fanny Kemble, " Life 
is before you," which I had repeated and then copied 
out at his request. Mrs. Kemble returned to Phila- 
delphia this spring. In those days the journey took 
much longer, and the distance seemed much greater 
than it does now. The following- two letters were 
written after her arrival in Philadelphia : 

Mrs. Pierce Butler {Fanny Kemble) to Barbarina 


May^-},, 1843. 

Dear Chick, — 

1 had just finished my letter to dear Granny by 
the side of Halifax pier, and was sitting with my head 
on my arms and my face covered with tears, when the 
kind voice and bright countenance of Mr. Cunard (the 
original proposer of this line of Atlantic steamboats) 
roused me from my sad contemplations. I had met 
and known him in London, and not being aware that 
Halifax was his native place and usual residence, was 
most agreeably surprised at his appearance on board 
the boat. She was to rest for a few hours before 
pursuing her route to Boston, and the worthy man, in 
spite of my disconsolate refusals to stir, succeeded 
in leading me off the ship to his own house in Halifax, 
where 1 breathed fresh air again, and looked upon the 
sea without feeling it rock under me, with sensations 
of inexpressible relief. On our way to his house, w^e 
passed a tall, slight, gentlemanly looking man, who 
was greeted by Mr. Cunard with '* How d'ye do. Major 
Sullivan?" We passed on, and 1 thought no more 
about the matter; but, when within half an hour of the 
ship's sailing again, 1 was standing on deck looking 
my last of land subject to dear England, Mr. Cunard 
came to me again and said : " Major Sullivan says his 

i8o FANNY KEMBLE [1843 

people in England know you very well." Then, my dear, 
1 became aware that he must be your uncle Willie, and, 
with inarticulate exclamations of delight and most 
eager gestures, made known my intense desire to look 
upon him again ; and he came and reminded me of 
your father, and spoke of all of you — of dear Granny, 
of 3'^ou, of home, of the Vicarage, of the Hoo, and we 
confounded ourselves in wishes and recollections, and 
hopes and desires ; and I felt, as he and Mr. Cunard 
waved their last farewells to me as we steamed away, 
that 1 had left friends even on the beach at Halifax, 
whose most unexpected greetings had made me feel 
less far from all I love in my own land. They gave 
me a bunch of sweet flowers that might have done 
honour to the Vicarage, and the dear and familiar 
names of you and yours, my darling, rang in my 
ears till I touched the American coast. 

We landed at Boston on the morning of the 19th — 
Friday last — after a passage of fifteen days ! Oh, my 
dear, what blessed things steamships are ! to be but a 
fortnight on that nauseous sea, and to be but a fortnight 
off from England, 'tis a marvellous and an unspeakable 
blessing. ... I was horribly ill the whole time, with a 
high fever the first ten days : it would neither let 
me eat, sleep, or be sick, which I believe would have 
relieved me greatly. The consequence of this miserable 
condition is, that I am thin and exhausted, and do not 
expect to recover either flesh or strength for some 
weeks to come. The children bore the passage very 
well ; were dead sick one half-hour, and devouringly 
hungry the next. At Boston I met some of my dear 
Sedgwicks, and one of them, my most intimate and 
particular friend, came on with me here. I have already 
received visits from almost all my old friends and 
acquaintance. Sarah is in a state of unspeakable 
ecstacy at being once more ujion her own soil and 
among her little cousins. . . . 

Before I close my letter, my darling Barbarina, let 
me say one word in answer to that most loving and 
welcome note with which you blessed my sea sorrows : 
thank you, my dear, dear child, for ^'our love for mc — 
it is very precious to me, and I thank God for it among 
my blessings. But, dearest Barbarina, when you speak 
of*^ having derived benefit from my intercourse, you do 
but illustrate a most favourite theory, and, moreover, 

i843] FANNY KEMBLE j8i 

firm conviction of mine, that people find in everything 
that which they bring to it— and, moreover, nothing 
else ; and if, indeed, my companionship was useful to 
you, it was simply because it brought into activity the 
qualities and virtues of your own mind and disposition. 
Is not this, indeed, the meaning of the sentence that 
to those who have more shall be given ? Our moral 
and mental faculties, in proportion to their activity 
and energy, seek and find in all things that which is 
congenial to them, and which assimilates with them ; 
and to be good is good, because it is the way to become 
more good : and so with wisdom, is it not ? 

You brought to our happy and charming inter- 
course, dearest Barbarina, qualities which, while they 
enchanted me and won my highest esteem, were 
getting strength even by the very activity with which 
they were brought during our very pleasant inter- 
course. But I think you are mistaken, dearest, in 
supposing you owe me anything more than you will 
equally owe to all things, for to you all things will be 
good, though I do not mean to say that all things will 
be as pleasant to you as our fellowship, and I am very 
sure you will not think many things so, as I shall not. 
God bless you, my dear child, your bright image lives 
most lovelily in my recollection, and will be one of my 
pleasantest visions for a long time to come. Give my 
dearest lov^e to Granny and to my Lord, my kindest 
remembrances to Mr. Sullivan, and 
Believe me, ever far or near, 

Your most sincerely attached, 

Fanny Butler. 

Mrs. Pierce Butler {Fanny Kenible) to Barbarina 


Sunday, October 22, 1843. 

My dearest Barbarina, — 

I am greatly amused at Mrs. Hale's distress 
about your admiration for old gentlemen of ^ood abili- 
ties; at the same time I incline to think that Mr. Bobus 
Smith would carry the day with a sensible woman of 
any age over most young men of the present day in 
England. But the fact is that a man hke Mr. Smith 
cannot by any possibility be di young man, for learning, 
knowledge of men and of things, wisdom, experience 

i82 FANNY KEMBLE [1843 

benevolence, forbearance, patience — all these, or indeed 
any of them, can very scarcel}^ have grown to much 
perfection in youth ; and if a man be good and nice 
enough to have preserved the best qualities of the 
heart, which are certainly those of youth, to such time 
as he shall have gathered in the full harvest of life, of 
observation, and experience, he must necessarily be 
better worth talking to and listening to than any 
younger man whatever. Age may retain some of the 
gifts of youth, but 3^outh cannot by any possibility 
forestall the results of age, and yet it is only in pro- 
portion as the one [illegible] of life can unite to its 
own the [illegible] of the other that young people and 
old avoid being intolerable. It is very well, and a 
wise, selfish policy, moreover, in the old to cherish, if 
possible, all preservable remains of the warm-hearted- 
ness, generosity, and enthusiasm of youth ; for wisdom, 
experience, and prudence are also by no means always 
in themselves lovely and attractive, whereas it has 
pleased God to make the very infirmities of youth 
winning. Its rashness, its credulity, its ignorance, 
excite compassion and win a pitying forbearance, and 
I think old people should endeavour by all means to 
be amiable, that the young may profit by them, and 
the young should strive equally to be amiable, that the 
old may take pleasure in them. The influence of the 
two periods of life upon each other does not appear to 
me to be half what it ought to, or what it might be, 
and this, I think, is chiefly the fault of the older portion 
of the community, because, as I said before, it is 
much more possible for them to retain the virtues of 
youth than for youth (still young) to attain the virtues 
of age. Nevertheless, and though Mr. Bobus Smith is 
in my humble judgment a most illustrious instance 
of attractive and amiable Eld, I think Mrs. Hale may 
make herself eas}^, for though I hold you to be an 
equally illustrious example of the most near approach 
possible to that monstrous perfection — a grey head 
upon green shoulders, I have very little doubt myself 
of your marrying in due time a man not much older 
than Lord Dacrc, with all the proper follies and 
engaging absurdities belonging to his time of life; 
for you see, my dear, as poor Mary Stuart .said in 
commenting upon some of her great Queen-cousin's 
rather derogatory ])redilcctions, "Dans ces sortes de 

1843] FANNY KEMBLE 183 

choses-la la plus sage de nous toutes n'est qu'un peu 
moins sotte que les autres ! " 

I have nothing to tell you, dear, whatever ; my life 
is monotonous and uneventful in the extreme, so much 
so that 1 might very possibly have recourse to my 
day's sermon for epistolatory matter— and it was a 
remarkably fine one — but for my inviolable respect 
for your orthodoxy ; but the mere idea of such matter 
for a letter bespeaks a remarkable dearth of all the 
topics of correspondence. 

I have not been very well for some little time past. 
I want exercise of the sort I am accustomed to, and in 
the absence of all the pleasurable stimulants of life, 
horse-exercise, and congenial society, and those beau- 
tiful influences to body and soul with which a country 
life abounds, my spirits suffer very much ; neverthe- 
less there is nothing the matter with me. I wish I 
could say the same of poor little Fan, who is just re- 
covering from a sharp feverish attack which has made 
her very weak. Her constitution is good for nothing. 
... I have an incessant feeling of insecurity about 
that child's life, which has so far grown into a habit of 
mind with me that were anything to happen to her it 
would but be a realisation of the thought that rises in 
my heart whenever my eyes light upon her — she is 
not mine. 

Sarah is in fine health and looks vigorous and 
strong, and is growing handsome. They are both 
good, amiable children, and Miss Hall manages them 
with great efficiency and judgment. I am going to 
leave off writing, dear Barbarina. God bless you, 
dear chick ; give my affectionate remembrances to all 
at the Vicarage and the Hoo, and believe me. 

Ever your very loving old Hen, 


On July 25, 1843, Mr. Bobus Smith writes to Lady 
Dacre from Savile Row : 

My dear Lady, — 

The adjective,^ my namesake, is a real personage, 
and has had a place in Lilly's Accidence time out of 

' [Aful>n, adjective, plural, both.] 

i84 THE HIBBERTS [1843 

mind — before you or I were born. I got acquainted 
with him some sixty-five years since, and though I met 
him at first with distaste, we have rubbed on pretty 
well together. He has an advantage over me in being 
plural. I am singular (in more ways than one, perhaps 
3^ou will say) ; I cannot therefore, as he might, be in 
your garden and my own at once. By the wa}^, there 
is another circumstance : he has a female, as your little 
grandson will tell you, Ambobus, whether sister or 
wife I do not know. Now, as ambobus is cut down 
to Bobus, and that into Bob, so may ambabiis^ by a 
process of the same kind, be reduced to Bab, which 
I take to be by established practice the ultimate 
abbreviation of Barbara and Barbarina ; so, you see, 
my dear Lady, you and I may call cousins through 
the old gentleman and his lady. 

I wish very much, and fully intend, to pay you a 
visit. When is the only difficulty, for my nothing-to- 
do life is so full of things to do I don't know which 
way to turn, and fiddle-faddle is more difficult to 
arrange than serious business. I should like to second 
your designs upon the Hibberts, about whom, you 
in anticipation and my lord in experience, are quite 
right. I owe them a visit, and when I pay it, would 
negotiate if you like it. Pray tell me how your time 
to come lies. 

How can you go about to persuade your grand- 
daughters to like old fellows better than young ones ? 
You may depend upon it they will find you out, and it 
will come to nothing. God bless you. Love to my 

Yours sincerely while I 


Mrs. Hibbert was the younger daughter of Sydney 
Smith, married to Nathaniel Hibbert, of Munden 
House, near Watford. Mr. Smith made the two 
houses, the Hoo and Munden, acquainted in the first 
instance, and from this grew a fast friendship which 
lasted till one by one passed out of life. Mrs. Charles 
Buxton and I are the only survivors of those happy 


Mr. Bobns Smith to Lady Dacre 

August 15, 1843. 
My dear Lady, — 

I have so far progressed, as people have said in 
these few years past, in my negotiation as to be certain 
that Mr. and Mrs. liibbcrt will have great pleasure in 
paying you and my lord a visit; but a treaty of peace, 
a treaty of marriage, a treaty for settling the Scotch 
Church, are all of them more easily brought to a con- 
clusion than a visiting treaty. Your letter, 1 am sorry 
to say, does not relieve the difficulty of the when; for 
the last week of August, to which you confine me, is 
so taken up by their engagements and mine — for even 
mine come in very perversely — that the last day is the 
only one that is free for us. 1 am afraid, therefore, some 
postponement is unavoidable; but Mr. and Mrs. Hib- 
bert will be at home, they tell me, till towards the latter 
end of October, and within those limits anytime will suit 
them. But then there is me : how am I to be managed ? 
I am bound to pay a visit first to Farming Woods, ^ 
next to my excellent old crony the Bishop of Durham ; 
both these were intercepted last year by the gout, and 
may again this year. But putting that out of the ques- 
tion, the first, as you will easily understand, is sacred ; 
the last has been so urgently pressed, so often promised, 
and so never yet paid, that I could not, without giving 
and feeling pain, put anything in the way of it. Then 
on your side I think I see obstacles — pheasants coming 
after partridges, etc., and a strong covey of etceteras. 
If you have to disentangle all this I have not, and 
it makes me giddy to think of it. The only thing I 
see for it is that you should let me know as far before- 
hand as you can whether there is likely to be any gap 
in your shootings, and then I will do everything I can 
to bend my times to yours ; for I sincerely desire to 
effect the parley, and will bestir myself about it when 
I see an opening, as if I was not the most inactive of 
mankind. ... I go with you in all the feelings you 
express so naturally, and be assured 1 think of your 
fortitude with admiration — with much more admiration 
than if it took the aspect of stoical obduracy. God 
bless you, and strengthen you through the very short 
remnant of this weary way that we have yet to pass. 
* [Mr. and Mrs. Vernon Smith's residence.] 

i86 VISIT TO THE HOO [1843 

Mr. Bob lis SmitJi to Lady Dacre 

August 31, 1843. 

Daylight begins to peep througli the maze, my 
dear Lady — an unapt metaphor for me however, for 
I am more than half blind — but in words unfigurative, 
the 19th September will, it should seem, suit all parties 
very well. The i8th is the last day of young Hibbert's 
holidays, and, of course, the day of all the holidays 
which belongs most exclusively to him. On Tuesday, 
the 19th, therefore, I look forward to our all meeting 
at the Hoo. You will probably write one of your 
kind and gracious notes to my niece (of whom, par 
parcntliese, I am very fond), that she and her husband 
may have more direct authority than my assurances of 
their welcome. I will abide with you till Friday the 
22nd, if you can put up with me for so long. They 
will answer for themselves on that point ; their direc- 
tion is Munden, Watford. 

I am here in the midst of green trees and grand- 
children — an old, stag-headed stump, lame and blind, 
and beginning to be forgetful, and, to say the truth, 
less and less fit to be anywhere but at home, or with 
anybody than my old crony Bobus, with whom I have 
fits of peevishness ; but on the whole we understand 
each other, and run on tolerably well in a give-and-take 
sort of wa}^ — books and ^ the garden are the mediators 
whenever we fall out. A-propos of this, give my love 
to my lord, and tell him to have a better opinion of my 
old friend Brand, ^ and to place more confidence in 
him, for there is not in my firm belief a worthier man 
living, or one who more deserves his good opinion. 

Mr. Bubiis Smith to Lady Dacre 


November 19, 1843. 

You know of old, my dear Lady, what a truant I am 
at letter writing, and the feebleness of my sight of late 
has not given mc much encouragement to correct that 
failing : write I can, but, if it is more than a very 
little, I suffer for it. However, I cannot refuse myself 
the pleasure, or you the justice of telling you, that I 
met Mr. and Mrs. Hibbcrt on Friday for the first time 

' [Lord Uacre liimself, i.e. Thomas Brand.] 





J^cLy —Ua 

u t 111/' axjf of .>/• t'ffi'iy fivf 


since the Hoo, and that you are in no danger of 
throwing away another thirty years (if you had them 
to spare) in hopeless love. Your passion is abun- 
dantly returned by husband and wife, and they spoke 
of you all in a good long talking over — my Lord, your 
Ladyship, and both your young ones— in a way that 
gave me great pleasure, as I have, you know, a 
sneaking kindness of the same sort. 1 hope you will 
continue to like each other as I know on both sides 
you ought. Pray write to me and don't expect 
answers — that is to my mind the perfection of corre- 
spondence. I am here in my denuded garden, and 
have heard nothing except what the worthy curate took 
three quarters of an hour to tell me about Cornelius 
the centurion, which would no doubt have edified me 
more if I could have kept continually awake. 

I beg pardon ; I have just heard further that my 
sow has calved— mother and daughter doing well — but 
what care you ? Remember me to all that we do both 
care for, and who will care for being so remembered, 
and, believe me, dating from the close of my thirty 
years' cruelty, ever most sincerely yours, 

R. S. 

Mr. Bobiis Sniitli to Lady Dacre 

January 5, 1844. 

I must not be so lazy as your kindness has given 
me leave to be, my dear Lady. I hope the permission 
alone would have gone some way towards reforming 
me, by taking off the zest so peculiar to all things 
prohibited ; but I am further quickened by a real 
desire to hear from yourself how you are. I passed 
two days last week with the Hibberts, and on their 
return from Lady Salisbury's ball on the morning I 
left them, they reported that you had not been at all 
well during your visit to Holkham (or Holcombe, 
which is it ?). You were expecting to return on that 
same day, they said, to the tioo ; 1 hope you did so, 
and that a few days' rest and the feeling of home, 
which, after all, is medicinal come from where one will, 
has quite set you up again. We talked of you all at 
Munden, as you all deserved to be talked of, and I can 
most conscientiously say that no particle of your 
liking for them is lost. 


I am, as you will see by my date, at Bowood,^ a 
place endeared to me by recollections which go back 
almost to my boyish days, and are connected with all 
the happiest passages of my life, and still further made 
pleasant by the greatest kindness from the present 
owner. The exhortation in your last letter, which 
you with a modest irony call wisdom, is very truly so, 
and follows immediately from the philosophy which I 
have endeavoured to practise as well as to preach on 
the occasions, not a few, which I have had to call it in 
aid. I submit to what is inevitable, not merely 
because it is so, but because I see reason to believe it 
is of a providential character and comes through the 
medium of a wisdom infinitely greater than ours. 
This, and the consciousness that I draw sensibly to- 
wards the end of life, are my consolations under what 
is to me a severe privation. I can write as you see, 
tant bicn que mal^ and I can read by da3dight, but not 
as I was wont — and but little by candlelight. I must 
throw myself, as you counsel, more on the living, and be 
thankful that I have many . . . [The end is missing.] 

Mr. Bobus Sniitli to Lady Dacrc 

Farming Woods, 
September 15, 1S44. 

With lively satisfaction, my dear Lady, I heard 
from Barbarina a good account of you, under your 
own hand. I know enough of such attacks to know 
that their consequences do not always cease with 
them, but what is of more consequence to know, 
and never to forget, is that they are of all attacks 
those which most require to be taken in time, and 
that life frequently depends upon it. Now, your life 
is still, I hope, of some value even to yourself, for 
you have with the help of Time, the grand assuager, 
and the wise and brave exertions of your own spirit, 
re-assumed an interest in it which is worth preserving; 
but, looking to those about you who are most dear 

' [Mr. Smith married a niece of Lord Holland. In Lady Holland's 
"Memoirs of Sydney .Smith," we find that one of his first professional 
duties was the marriage of his brother. He writes to his mother : 
" The marriage took place in the library at Bowood, and all I can tell 
you of it is, that he cried, she cried, and I cried." Lady Holland 
adds: "The only tears, I believe, this marriage ever produced, save 
those we shed on her grave."] 

i844] VISIT TO MUNDEN 189 

to you, is it not true, vvitliout the least romancing, 
that upon your life depends the comfort and welfare 
of them all ? How entirely you are the life and soul 
of my old friend you must be well aware ; and in- 
dependently of their very great affection for you, you 
cannot but know how valuable to your grand- 
daughters are your guidance and countenance — to 
what does all this tend, quoth you ? Why, madam, to 
no less than reproaching you for risking all this under 
a false notion of fortitude rather than give an alarm — 
possibly premature, but at all events comparatively 
small — in a case where timely precaution may be of 
such infinite consequence. Think what would be 
your own feelings, and what would be theirs, if at any 
time, for want of such an alarm, one of these attacks 
were to take an ill turn, as I can assure you it is very 
possible that at any time they may. 

Away then, I beseech you, with this theatrical 
heroism of bearing pain, and call out aloud, as your 
duty is, on the first intimation of it, even though you 
wake your husband from his first sleep— that disturb- 
ance may save him many sleepless nights. Thus have 
I vented my indignation, not perhaps so vehemently 
as I should if I had eyes to see at greater length. I 
know you will take it in good part, for it is your habit 
of kindness to me to do so ; it is, I believe, the first 
time I ever preached cowardice to you — but such 
cowardice is courage and generosity when its object 
is to preserve a blessing to others. 

My visit to you all gave me great pleasure, and so 
did the sequel at Munden. 1 enjoyed the drive with 
Barbarina very much, and we felt as little anxiety as 
can be felt by persons eloping : only one alarm — a 
cartload of persons from Kimpton village— but they 
let us go by as if there was nothing in it. 

God bless you, my dear friend, and preserve you 
long to those who bear you a hearty affection, and be 
not wanting to His providence by neglecting 3'ourself. 
Remember me cordially to Dacre, and continue to 
number among the above described, your affectionate 

R. S. 

This, which I am sorry to say is the last letter in 
my possession, refers to a visit to Munden, which is 


about fifteen miles from the Hoo and to which Mr. 
Smith took me in his carriage with him ; this was 
always [called our elopement. I well remember the 
drive, how kind he was, talking to me on all subjects, 
and Yepeating to me Shirley's beautiful lines, " The 
glories of our birth and state," etc. I can hear now 
the solemn ring of the last lines, and they have been 
associated with him in my mind ever since : 

All heads must come 

To the cold tomb, 

Only the actions of the just 

Smell sweet and blossom in the dust. 

This was little more than six months before his 
death, which followed close upon that of his brother 
S3^dney. I cannot forbear quoting from Lady 
Holland's life of her father : 

Nothing can be more affecting than to see these 
two brothers thus parting on the brink of the grave ; 
for my dear uncle only left my father's deathbed to 
lie down on his ov^ai, literally fulfilling the petition my 
father so touchingly made to him in one of his early 
letters, on hearing of his illness, " to take care of 
himself and wait for him," and before the end of a 
fortnight had followed him to the grave. 

The letter referred to is dated Hestington, 181 3. 

Dear Bobus, — 

Pray take care of yourself We shall both be a 
brown infragrant ])owder in thirty or forty years. Let 
us contrive to last out for the same or nearly the same 
time ; weary will the latter part of my pilgrimage be, 
if you leave me in the lurch. 

Ever your affeclionate brother, 

Sydney Smith. 

Bobus was the elder brother of Sydney Smith 
(his son, Vernon Smith, was afterwards Lord 

i844] THE HIBBERTS 191 

Lyveden), and had passed a great deal of his early 
life in India as a lawyer. He was a friend of Lord 
Dacre's, and I have always understood that when 
he had shut himself completely away from the world, 
broken-hearted by the death of his wife and a very 
promising eldest son, nothing but the friendship 
between the two and the consequent friendship for 
my Grandmother, could have succeeded in bringing 
him out of his retirement. His health was not good 
either. Lord Dacre and others held that he was 
far superior in talent and power to his brother 
Sydney, as also in real wit ; but he had not the animal 
spirits and irresistible fun of the other, and there is 
no need to compare them. 

Bobus was always extremely kind to me as a 
girl, and it was through him we made friends with 
his niece, Mrs. Hibbert, and her delightful husband, 
Nathaniel Hibbert. One of the greatest pleasures 
to myself and my sister, as long as she lived, was 
a visit to Munden. We went sometimes separately, 
and sometimes together, and enjoyed the place, the 
people we met, and the kindness of our host and 
hostess to the utmost. My friendship with Mrs. 
Hibbert continued till her death, though I did not 
see her so often latterly from various causes. 

Mrs. Hibbert was Sydney Smith's youngest 
daughter (Saba, wife of the doctor, Sir Henry Holland, 
being the other). She was very clever, extremely 
cultivated, and well-read, and having passed her 
life with clever people at home and clever people 
in society, was a delightful companion. I say com- 
panion, as, though she was older than 1 was, we 
were on that footing. Mr, Hibbert was, I think, 
the most agreeable man I ever met, full of cleverness 
and knowledge, very original in his views, and with 


that rare and valuable gift of making those he talked 
to feel as if they were clever too. He managed to 
make the stupidest people worth listening to, and 
brought out all that there was to be found in them. 
I was very fond of him, and he was the kindest of 
friends to me. The time I passed with those two 
at Munden, in the early days when all went well 
and the children were young and happy, is perhaps 
the brightest 1 can remember. Clever people were 
there too : Sydney Smith himself, overflowing with 
drollery, so that we used to come in to breakfast feel- 
ing quite weak with laughing after wandering round 
the garden with him. Mrs. Marcet I remember being 
there with him, and the fun he made about her scientific 
books, which she enjo3'ed as much as any one. 

Sydney Smith christened me from one of the shrubs 
in the garden " Berberis dulcis," and another name for 
me was Minerva, as a companion to Emily Holland 
(Mrs. Charles Buxton), who was very prett}^ and who, 
as the daughter of Sir Henry Holland, he called the 
" Venus de Medecis." This is mentioned in Lady 
Holland's life of her father, but my name is not given. 

Lady Dacre to licr granddaiigJitcr, Barbarina Sid/ivafi 

Sunday, September 1844. 

My precious Barb, — 

Gert has written, I find, and sent men and 
horses in all directions, (on a Sunday, wicked child !) 
and piclons that are to wear out all their shoes, and " file 
their souls " into the bargain on my account. I shall be 
ashamed to face them all, as 1 am my two doctors after 
all their fuss made witli me, while so man}' poor folks 
"be so bad o' their stomicks" and nothing done for 
them. I have had a little broth, and am to pick a bit 
of chicken at dinner, and think of it with a sort of 
eagerness, when the very mention of food yesterday 
was resented as an insult. Dr. Hawkins said : "Get all 
the sleep you can, and don't touch anything unless you 

i844] CHARLES LAMB 193 

wish for it," and most implicitly did I obey — taking 
a few saline draughts, as ordered, and a few sips of 
barley water till about ten o'clock this morning 1 
meekly consented to a cup of tea. They don't let me 
alone though, and are going to give me more nasty 
things — for the look of the thing, I believe. Upon my 
word, my love, if you had stayed here on my account 
I should have gone wild. I never could have got well 
under such a trial to my temper, which should be at 
this moment accommodated with a straight waist- 
coat. I only feel sorely bruised and beaten within and 
without, and da rcstc am a healthy old woman. Of 
course 1 cannot have much to tell you. Gertrude 
Seymour has been all kindness, and her George 
pleasantness personified. My own Gert so good a 
nurse that if I had had you too, I should have had an 
embarras de riclicssc. Tell my dear old friend how 
sorry I was not to see him yesterday morning. 

There is above the letter from Bobus Smith, " The 
dear old friend," written on September 15, alluding 
to what was called our elopement to Munden to 
which my Granny refers. 

Lady Dacre to her granddaughter, Barbarina Sidlivan 


... about Shakespeare and Lamb's book : he is very 
right for himself and for all enthusiasts and literary 
persons, and persons of strong imagination, highly 
cultivated taste, and deep feeling. Such minds can 
by their own fireside supply all the accessories much 
better than the Kemble perfection of costume and 
Stanfield's pencil. But all dramatic compositions are 
addressed to the many, and how many such are among 
the audience? Half a dozen perhaps, and shall not 
the many have their highest delight. Your Sandpaper ' 
among the rest, who delighted in her day in all the 
accessories as much as a lamplighter sucking his 
orange in the first gallery. His nature and truth and 
dramatic merit are as wonderful in their way as his 

' I used to say my Granny was the sandpaper on whicli I sharpened 
my wits, or something to that effect. 



high poetic beauties, and shall they be lost? Why not 
read him and read him as long as one has an eye in 
one's head, and see him into the bargain, and hear him, 
too, done justice to by a Siddons ? Will anybody dare 
to tell me that Lady Macbeth and Coriolanus's mother's 
characters would ever have been thoroughly under- 
stood and relished, if they had never been " realised " 
by her ? Many of the poetical beauties even have 
derived additional, or rather developed, beauty from 
Kemble ! No, 1 do not think that any one can know 
the full meaning of " Be thy tears wet ? " who has not 
seen and heard John Kemble. Nor do I believe the 
high tone of wit and comedy in Queen Mab's pranks 
could be thoroughly estimated had not Charles 
Kemble given it as he did. So / say " Act away, my 
boys, and read away too." By both you get all the 
beauties of opposite natures, and do not prevent the 
imagination from going its own lengths into the 
bargain. 1 speak as a lover of the art perhaps, but I 
could so lend myself to the representation when young, 
and these " learned Thebans " of yours perhaps could 
not. Acting is certainly a natural impulse. Children 
begin impersonating things the moment they can play 
at all. How positively one feels oneself the personage 
one is acting. 1 was Nurse Hushem (in my old age too) 
to my heart's core. How does one enter into the 
person's skin that is acting before one pour peu that 
he or she does it well ! That it seems sacrilegious to 
act Shakespeare abominably and to mutilate his 
glorious works, 1 agree, but there they are ! It does 
not hurt them, and one need not go, as I would not 
now^ if I had a hundred ears ; but 1 confess 1 have 
received, in my youth, more lively pleasure in seeing 
him acted by the Kembles and Young than even in 
reading him alone. Fanny, when acting Juliet, was in 
the midst of all the pasteboard and scene-shifters, and 
everything most destructive to illusion, with Romeos 
who turned her stomach — no wonder with her imagina- 
tion and all the etceteras stated, that she felt disgust 
and, poor thing! flew to Butler for refuge — into what 
Sifirc, out of such a trifle of a frying- pan ! Ye powers ! 
I'll read your Lamb, however, it 1 can lay my hand 
on him — I cannot get any one thing 1 want from 
Rolandi or Ridgcway. Panizzi promised "Arnoldodi 
Brescia," but has never sent it. 


Sir E. Biilwcr Lytton tu Lady Dacre 


November 1"] , 1S44. 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

I was just about to send off my letter to Lord 
Dacre, when yours reached me with some others from 
Knebworth. My steward, whose charge it was to 
direct on my letters, had gone to town — to be married! 
(may heaven not visit him too roughly in that afflic- 
tion ! ) and therefore, in his calamity, 1 suffered 

I am very much flattered that you should have 
thought my presumptuous fault-finding worth so 
much attention. Unfortunately I have not here 
your volume to compare the lines therein with 
those you kindly sent me, but of one thing I am 
sure, that the most scrupulous word-weigher could 
not find anything unpoetical in the line, " Little by 
little, although playful wise." 

The antique and Spenserian turn of the verse 
removes all prosaicism from " Little by little," if 
indeed that phrase is in itself prosaic, which I doubt. 
My own theory about poetic diction (on which, by the 
way, 1 could write a volume), is that no words that 
belong to the native genius of the language are un- 
poetic, and that most words borrowed from the Latin, 
and many from the Greek, are essentially so. I should 
like to see bold attempts made to restore old poetic 
words, which are lost to us now, and for which we 
have substitutes we cannot use in poetry. 1 take two 
which I think have been noticed by D'Israeli, the 
Elder. Suppose, in the drama, we want to use a word 
in the sense of "vagabond," which we really often do, 
the nice ear would be shocked by the [illegible] and 
Latinised prosaicism of the word, but how tine is the 
old English synonym "scatterling"! So again, "execu- 
tioner " is a word always wanted in tragedy, and is 
insufferable ; but how grim and dark is our own 
national word " doomsman " ! To return to the phrase 
in question, " Little by little " is, I think, too genuinely 
English to be unpoetic, and too liquid to be harsh. 
"Little" is to my mind the proper word when you 
want to express the idea, and the Latin word 
"diminutive" would be atrocious! "Pretty" seems 

196 ON THE USE OF WORDS [1844 

by itself a hackneyed and almost vulgar word, yet in 
Shakespeare, who employ's it often, how charming 
it is ! Words depend upon the artist for their effect, 
and no natural word in good hands can ever be 
prosaic. I was very much struck with this in German, 
where, properly speaking, there is no poetic vocabulary. 
The homeliest words really German are always the 
most poetic ; but when they borrow French, Greek, 
and English words, which they do frequently, the 
whole passage is spoilt, and the finest vulgarised. 
I cannot dismiss the passage which you have sent 
me without again playing the Zoilus ! I am not sure 
that you cannot amend what seems to me almost 
tautology in the lines, " And in sportive guise. Little 
by little although playful wise." See what you bring 
on you when once opening the door to criticism. No ! 
I did not see the bad grammar; in good poetry it is 
a fault that readily escapes one. In spite of its real 
vulgarity, and of its being specially pointed out to 
him, Byron never altered the sin against Priscian, 
"There let him lay," in his grand stanzas on the ocean 
in " Childe Harold," and after all, it hardly seems a 
blot — so great is our pleasure in the whole. The bad 
grammar of our learned Milton furnishes some of his 
most quoted passages, as " The fairest of her daughters, 
Eve." But 1 must come to a close. Adieu, my dear 
Lady Dacre, and believe me, your ladyship's most 
faithful servant, 

E. B. Lytton. 

Sonnet XIX. "Petrarch," Part II. Sonnet 47. I find 
that in the translations now printed "Little by little" 
does not appear, but Sir E, Bulwer Lytton seems to have 
overlooked the comma, which alters the sense, which 
he apparently attributed to the words, " Playful wise" : 
" though playful, wise" is the right reading. 

[Gertrude Sullivan's journal, which follows, gives 
an excellent account of the way the days passed at 
the Vicarage about this time.] 



January lo, 1844. — After making many resolutions 
never to keep a journal, here I am, having actually 
bought a copy-book for the very purpose, and I am 
determined to keep it for some little time just to see 
whether or not lejeic vaiit la chandcllc ! 

We dined at the Hoo to meet the Blakes,^ who were 
very amusing and agreeable as usual. Miss Blake 
told me that when the first railroad was established 
in Russia, the poor, ignorant serfs were convinced tliat 
the English engineers had confined a devil inside the 
engine which drew the train, and made the various 
screams, pantings, puffings, groans, etc., which they 
heard. The coal and water they imagined to be its 

I have not read a word to-day, which is too dis- 
graceful ; I must do better to-morrow. 

16///. — Had breakfast at nine. Did the boys' lessons. 
We have made the boys begin German, which they 
will like, I think. After luncheon we went to the 
school ; heard the first class read : Barbarina distin- 
guished herself in questioning and explaining. Then 
we sat ages with Mrs. Adams talking over our cheap 
soup and stews. It is more difficult than I supposed 
to feed a family more cheaply than they do, especially 
as there being but one butcher's shop, all meat is dear 
for want of competition. Nevertheless, I do not give 
up my idea that less bread and more meat would be 
better. Mrs. Adams said they spent 65. 6d. a week in 
flour, which gave them a quartern loaf a day, certainly 
not over much for themselves and six children. She 
is willing, however, to try, and likes our taking an 

' [William Blake, Esq., of Danesbury, Welwyn, and his sister f'anny.] 



interest in her affairs. We then proceeded, book in 
hand, to Mrs. HiUiard, to whom we gave i lb. of rice 
(sd.) to make into rice-milk, and recommended our 
book, which they said they should like to read, so 
we left it with them, with permission to Sarah Gray, 
who was there, to take it home and read it also. They 
all laughed immensely at our cooking propensities, 
particularly when we told them that we were going 
to have some soup made without meat of any sort for 
dinner : it was excellent, but gives a good deal of 
trouble. We afterwards gave Mrs. EUingham i lb. of 
rice, and leaving " The Travels of Rolando " for Edward 
Crew to read, came home. 

i^tk — Had a headache, and was dying with cold all 
the morning ; our fire would not burn, and the room 
was 12 degrees below temperate. We dined at the Hoo ; 
stitched away at our work, but not so dolorous as I 
expected from Granny's account of Grandpapa's spirits. 

1 8///. — Got up full of the best intentions, meaning to 
be a pattern of industry ; but at breakfast came the 
announcement that Mr. Oakley's little dogs would 
meet at eleven o'clock ; after all his good nature in 
letting us know, we could not refuse to go, so at half- 
past eleven we trudged off. The day was lovely^ very 
warm, with a soft wind, and we stayed till one o'clock, 
enjoying it very much, only wishing for Harry! 

The boys came home ; they saw the Ojibbeway 
Indians yesterday, and seem much pleased with their 

25///. — Finished Napier's " Peninsula War," which 
on the whole I am not sorry for, though it has 
interested me very much and is well worth reading. 
I never knew anything like his admiration for Buona- 
parte ; not only does he admire his talents, but his 
morality and his character, public and private. Soult 
he also praises highly ; in short, he praises his adver- 
saries nobly, and as a soldier should do. I re-read the 
four first books of Pope's " Iliad," whicli amused me 
so mucli that I think 1 shall read it all through. I do 
not think 1 have looked at it since the time we used to 
read our old nursery copy at breakfast, and made it 
our favourite book. After dinner I read a short play 
of Tiecks, " Dcr Abschicd," which I rather like ; part 

i844] "LIFE IN A SICK ROOM" 199 

of it is clever, I think, ixuliculaiiy where Louise and 
Ferdinand meet. 

The new carriage is arrived, and is highly approved 
of by everybody. 

26///. — We all four went for a walk before luncheon, 
having, for a wonder, found Papa at liberty. The day 
quite beautiful and with a feel like spring, though the 
wind was cold. After lunch we spent some time in 
routing out books for our bookcase upstairs ; amongst 
others a number of Spanish books, poems, plays, dic- 
tionaries, and grammars, for we have quite determined 
upon learning Spanish. 

February 3. — We read a bit more of our " Oberon," 
and have but two more cantos to read. I read a few 
pages, just before coming to bed, of Miss Martineau's 
•' Life in a Sick Room." The dedication, I should 
think, might be meant for Lady Callcott, but 1 am 
not sure whether she wrote it before her death or 
not. It is only just published ; and even if written 
a few years ago, she would hardly print it now if it 
was meant for her. I have not yet read enough to 
know what I think of the book, but I think I shall 
like it. 

yth. — We received a most beautiful present from 
Uncle Willy — no less than all Alison's " History of 
Europe," with a note from him to say he had per- 
ceived a vacuum in our bookcase and he hoped this 
would fill it. Finished Miss Martineau's " Life in a 
Sick Room," which I like very much indeed, and 
should think very true. It makes me long to know 
her, and I admire it more than anything I have ever 
before read of hers. Read on Monday several articles 
of The Edinburgh Review. Michelet's " History of 
France " reviewed, which makes me wish to get the 
book ; the articles on infant and female labour, which 
are dreadfully painful even to read ; and that on 
Countess Hahn-Hahn's books, which must be very 
clever, very interesting, but exhibiting a state of 
society which does not speak well for the morals of 

9///.— Spent the whole day in airing the many draw- 
ings and prints in our room, and then arranging 

200 IRELAND [1844 

them in order. We could not get them done till 
half-past five o'clock, though we worked at it all day 
yesterday too. We found quantities of sketches by 
Cipriani which I knew nothing about or had quite 
forgotten. Granny came at two o'clock, and stayed 
some time. Frank went off to school about ten o'clock 
in the gig with Papa ; they arrived at Biggleswade at 
one o'clock. 

After dinner I read O'Connell's speech, which 
surprised me by its extreme moderation, and has 
quite redeemed him in my eyes from all charge of 
h3'pocrisy or evil intentions. I am all on his side 
now, and think Ireland should have a Parliament of 
its own. Anything, it seems to me, must be an im- 
provement ; any change of any sort. It is most 
wonderful the command O'Connell must have over 
the people to keep them so orderly and well-behaved 
when assembled in such bodies. 

loth. — Began copying a most lovely sketch of 
Cipriani's for Lady Bourchier, as after her gift of 
the Indian ink it would not do to go to town with- 
out taking her something. Had a long comfortable 
talk with Papa while he was dressing for dinner at the 
Hoo. In looking over his account-book, found that 
we spent this last year about £112, which 1 do not think 
much for ourselves and the boys' linen. Last year 
(1842) it was ^103 ; in 1841 it was £ys. 

14th. — Drew a good deal this morning. Emily and 
papa dined at the Myde. We finished Corncille's 
" Horace," which is a thousand times finer than the 
Italian. The last act I did not like, but some of it is 
very fine. I finished the last of the two dozen 
handkerchiefs I undertook to hem and mark, and 
mended some satin shoes. Barbarina had an ill- 
written, regular schoolboy's epistle from Frank, 
apparently very happy and contented. 

215/. — We two went to the Hyde last Thursday, and 
only came home yesterday. While at the Hyde 1 read 
Paget's new book, " The Pageant," a bigoted, narrow- 
minded book, consisting merely of a stupid story to 
act as a peg whereon to hang some extracts from the 
Commissioner's reports concerning the poor milliners, 

i844] IRELAND 201 

whom I pity from my soul, but I cannot see the use of 
uttering all sorts of maledictions and curses on the 
fine ladies and the nation at large, when the fault lies 
principally with the employers. It (the book) also 
mentions the new Poor Law as an institution for 
which England deserves, and, as he says, will surely 
receive a heavy punishment. 

I also read Kohl's " Ireland," which I like, particu- 
larly as it appears to give an intelligent, impartial 
account of the present state of the country. The state 
of misery far beyond what I had imagined, but one 
feels, nevertheless, that the Irish have so many noble 
qualities that they must some day improve. He gives 
one a grand idea of Father Matthew and of the good 
he has done, but raises doubts as to its continuance 
should he die soon ; surely, however, such disinte- 
rested efforts to do good to his countrymen cannot but 
have beneficial results. I have also finished the 
article on " Ireland " in The Edinburgh Reviczv, and 
O'Connell's speech (as I mentioned before). Lord 
John Russell's standing up for him. Lord Stanley's on 
the Government side, consisting chiefly of an attack 
on the Whigs, Macaulay's, which I like much, and 
Lord Howick's, which 1 like still better, as he boldly 
says, without flinching from the truth, what he thinks 
the only thing to be done : to give them all they have 
a right to, not as a favour but as their right, and to 
restore to the Roman Catholic Church what the 
Protestants have robbed her of, that a population of 
which more than two-thirds are Catholics may have 
every opportunity of learning their religion. 1 cannot 
understand their delaying to make Catholics in every 
way stand on an equality with the Protestants ; they 
are Christians, and why refuse to them, more than to 
the Scotch Presbyterians, or our Dissenters, the privi- 
leges which belong to all British subjects ? 

I am so full of poor Ireland that I should go on for 
ever, and probably write heaps of nonsense, if it had 
not long struck twelve, so I must get to bed. 

2yd. — Came to town.' The day cold and wretched. 
Wrote to the boys in the evening, made myself an 
account book, arranged my books, clothes, etc. Papa 

• [To her Grandmother's, 2, Chesterfield Street, Mayfair.] 

202 IN LONDON [1844 

gave me £12, and I am determined to keep my money 
separate this year. 

24///. — The carriage not being ready, we got a fly 
and went off to Belgravia, where we called on a great 
many folk, who were not at home, and a great many 
who were, amongst others Lady Mildmay, who seemed 
in very low spirits about her son's health, though 
he is by way of being better. We went on to the 
Bourchiers,^ who have a small house in Chapel Street, 
the smallest thing ever seen, but most comfortable, 
fitted up with wedding presents, and foreign things 
brought home by Sir Thomas. For instance, their 
skreens are Chinese banners, and Chinese idols are 
stuck about, and many of their books have been half 
over the world. Next we went to Lady Howick's, 
who has been ill, and is still weak. She was most 
cordial and affectionate, lively and agreeable as usual, 
and very proud of Lord Howick's last speech on Irish 

25///.— Mr. Whitbread called and said they all had 
been in town a few days, but should go away 
Thursday, so they are to dine here to-morrow. 
Began reading Liebig's " Letters on Chemistry," which 
amuse and interest me much. 

26th. — A most prosperous day : we accomplished 
more than can be told. Called on numbers of people, 
many of whom were not at home, and were let in at 
most of those we wished to see, except by Mrs. 
Sartoris, the Bruces, S3^dney Smiths, and Hollands, 
where we went upon hearing the Hibberts were 
staying there until Thursday. 

Ordered a pianoforte, and then proceeded to Eaton 
Square, where we found Maria Codrington ^ and the 
Admiral, who was so delighted to see us that he 
kissed Granny and then me with great affection. 
Maria very agreeable, full of Miss Edgeworth's 
charms; we are to call on her to-day. We also called 

' [Captain Sir Thomas Bourchier, R.N., K.C.B. ; married Jane, 
daughter of .Sir Edward Codrington, G.C.B., K.S.L., etc. Admiral 
of tlic Red, distinguished at Navarino.] 

' [Admiral Sir Edward Codrington, G.C.B., and his daughter 

1 844] LADY HOLLAND 203 

on Lady Morley, whom we did not expect to find in 
town, but there she was, and we could not tear 
ourselves away from her. She was so very, very dear, 
affectionate, everything that was darling, that I could 
have cried if she had not made me laugh all the time. 
She says she will come to the Hoo at Easter, dine 
here every day and all day if we like ; if to see us 
alone, all the better, nothing can be nicer ; if to meet 
friends, what so charming ? if to meet strangers, 
she particularly likes strangers ; if they are rich, 
how delightful ! if poor, it does not matter, they 
are our friends; so her heart is open, "she loves 
them already and would willingly embrace them ; 
will go to the play with them — anything in the 
whole world ! " 

She told us a story of Lady Holland which beats 
anything I ever heard. She was at Lord Radnor's, 
and they could not get rid of her. Lord Radnor 
thought of unroofing the house, but tried first what 
prayers of a Sunday evening would do. She was 
highly pleased (very gracious. Lady Morley said, 
because she knew they longed to get rid of her), and 
said she would go down for prayers. Whether she 
was ill I do not know, but it seems she had to be 
carried downstairs, and wrapped herself up in cloaks, 
etc. In the midst she called out for more cloaks, 
which were brought to her. When she went up to 
the drawing-room again, she said to Lord Radnor (he 
having finished with the Lord's Prayer) : " 1 like that 
very much, that last prayer you read. I approve of it, 
it is a very nice one — pray whose is it ?" Did any one 
ever hear such a thing? I cannot imagine why 
people should bear her impertinence. Our visit to 
Lady Morley put us in such spirits that we both 
laughed about nothing all the way home. We 
caught a glimpse of Lady Farquhar in the street and 
exchanged a few words. Whitbreads ' dined here in 
the evening: Aunt Julia cjuite charming but rather 
quiet ; Gert very agreeable, and looking extremely 
pretty. We had a snug comfortable evening together 
in my room, while Granny and Aunt Julia had theirs 
in the other. 

' [Samuel Whitbread Esq. of Cardington ; married Lord Dacre's 
sister Julia.] 


27///.— Went to Waterloo House, and got through 
some shopping, and called on our poor Bobus, 
who has had the influenza very severely, and is 
much weakened by it. He is very blind, more so than 
when at the Hoo, I am afraid, but spoke of it with the 
greatest patience, saying that he was very fond of the 
saying of one of his old Greek friends : " The gods 
have given us stern endurance to meet inevitable 
evils." This he repeated with great fire and energy 
two or three times, as if he felt it more and more each 
time. He said it was a consoling thought that what- 
ever evils might befall him, he "knew It was not for 
long, which was the greatest comfort old age afforded, 
and a great one it must be, I should think. He no 
longer tries to look at the person he speaks to, but 
his eyes wander up and down, from the ceiling to 
the floor, apparently without taking in any objects. 

We also went to look at Chantrey's statue of 
George IV. in Trafalgar Square, which Granny 
admired very much for the perfect ease and grace of 
the horse and man : without knowing anything 
about the horse, I thought it beautiful. We both flew 
into a rage with Nelson's Monument : a colossal 
statue of a thing in a cocked hat, with one empty 
sleeve, stuck up on the point of a pin, is all one can 
make out. I wish it had been on a platform only a 
little higher than the statues at the four corners of the 

Before we came in we called on Lady Grey,^ and 
had a long chat with her. She is now obliged to 
devote her whole time to the General, from the time 
he gets up till he is in bed, so that she says she has 
not touched a pencil for five months ! She has left off 
sitting up with him as her health would not stand it, 
and she says she has quite got back the power of 
sleeping. She gets out before nine or ten o'clock a 
little, and I believe now, during Lent, attends at eight 
the morning service at the new church in Wilton 
Crescent (St. Paul's). Some say this church is very 
Piisey^ but Lady Grey says not "the least ; the clergy- 
man, 1 know, insists much on daily service, but 

' [Charlotte, only daughter of Sir Cliailcs Des Vocux, Bart. ; 
married tlie Hon. Sir Harry Grey, G.C.I}., brother of the 2nd 
Earl Grey.] 

1 844] THE TALBOTS 205 

whether he is a Puseyitc in more important matters I 
do not know. 

28///. The Talbots and Miss Talbot, W. Codrington, 
Sir C. Ogle/ and Aunt Talbot ^ to dine. I sat by 
Mr. Talbot (Pompey), and we remained for some time 
perfectly silent, till I, knowing his literary propensities, 
made an observation on books, whereupon we launched 
forth, and never ceased chattering till the end of 
dessert. He was so amusing 1 could not help liking 
him. Wc talked a great deal about Grant and his 
Nestorians. Mr. Talbot said, after reading Grant's 
book, he firmly believed it all, but that he had since 
seen one by a Mr. Kinsworth (1 think) showing Grant's 
facts to be at best doubtful. The Afghans, it seems, 
are quite as likely to be the lost tribes ; they call 
themselves the children of Israel, and have amongst 
them the tombs of many of the patriarchs — Lamech 
among the rest. Mr. Talbot, however, did not believe 
this a bit more than the Nestorians. We then talked 
much about Schiller and Germans in general ; then of 
Ireland and its old MSS., the language and character 
in which they were written, and their probable age. 
A book, it seems, has been lately written attempting 
to read the tables found in Etruria. The author 
takes it for granted that the Irish language is mono- 
syllabic, which is by no means certain, and the aim of 
his work is to prove that these tables are PhcEnician, 
that they are in the Irish language (which is therefore 
Phoenician), and that they give an account of the first 
visit made by these people to Ireland, with numerous 
sailing directions. It appears to be an ingenious book, 
but not very probable, being grounded on grounds 
not well proved. 

Just as the Talbots took their departure, in came 
the Hollands.^* Hibberts,' and Lady Morley fresh from 
Bobus's— Lady Morley bursting with droll anecdotes, 
her fun running over. Mr. liibbert talked to Grand- 

' [Sir Charles Ogle, Admiral of the Fleet, Lady Dacre's eldest 

^ [Arabella, his sister ; married first to Hon. Edward r>ouverie, and 
secondly to Hon. Richard Talbot, who died in 1843.] 

^ [Henry Holland, afterwards created a baronet, and his wife Saba, 
daughter of Sydney Smith.] 

•• [Nathaniel Hibbert, Esq., of Munden House, Herts, and his wife.] 

2o6 WESTMACOTT [1844 

papa. I had a comfortable coze with Mrs. Hibbert 
and a good look at Miss Holland, who is lovely ^ — 
such an innocent countenance. If I had been able to 
tear myself away from Mrs. Hibbert and Lady Morley, 
I should have set about making friends with Miss 
Holland. The Colbournes looked in for a moment 
only — very cordial as usual. 

March i. Went to see young Westmacott's figures 
for the Royal Exchange, which are quite beautiful. 
They are to be nearly 100 feet above the ground on 
the pediment of the building, and the shape is pecu- 
liarly awkward, as it becomes narrow at the ends ; 
he has, however, managed it cleverly. In the midst 
stands a fine dignified figure of Commerce, in which 
he has carefully avoided giving her the dress, features, 
or character of any particular nation, but has merely 
made her a quiet, commanding figure receiving the 
tributes poured in by all nations. There is a Chinese, 
a Greek, an Armenian, Hindoo, Turk, Mahommedan, 
Persian, a scribe or factor, a sailor (English), and 
English citizens in their official robes, so as to avoid 
the modern English dress, while the natives of foreign 
countries are to a certain degree clothed according to 
their real costume. The different countenances seem 
to me well kept, and the attitudes graceful and easy, 
particularly those of the English sailor and the factor. 

They are at present exhibited in his room, where 
they are well lighted and better seen than they will 
ever be when on the building ; it really is grievous to 
think of their being placed so high as to be lost to 
every one but the people inhabiting the top rooms of 
the houses opposite. Westmacott gets but £"3,000 for 
this splendid work, and provides the stone, labour, 
carriage, scaffolding, and runs all the risk of accidents 
in the removing, so that far from gaining anything he 
only does not lose ; but he says he is young and un- 
married, with no one to care about but himself, and 
he does it for fame. He is evidently enthusiastic to a 
degree about his art. 

We also went to see Knight's two pictures of the 
Peninsula heroes assembled at Apsley House, which 
pleased Granny much from the exactness of the por- 

' [Emily Holland, daughter of the above ; married Charles Buxton, 
Esq., M.P., of Foxwarren, Surrey.] 


traits. I knew none but poor Lord Lynedoch, who 
was painted last year, two months before his death. 
It is extremely like him, and gives to almost a painful 
degree the look of helplessness and infirmity. 

2nd. Miss Edgeworth called with her sister, Mrs. 
Wilson, who fell to my share, while Granny talked to 
Miss Edgeworth, who was most agreeable. Seeing 
that one eye and one ear were intent on her sister's 
proceedings, Mrs. Wilson good-naturedly held her 
tongue. Miss Edgeworth is a very small, crumpled-up 
old woman, with a most pleasing countenance ; she 
crept close to Granny, and in an audible voice talked 
on. She stayed a long time, and, after the ceremonies 
of meeting after thirty years were done, she was most 
amusing — full of anecdotes and clever remarks. 

Granny reminded her of a ride which one of Miss E.'s 
sisters was to have taken with her, she (Miss E.) 
having begged Granny to take charge of her sister, 
upon which she said, "Ah,y<? ni!y connais, so like my 
impudence ! " She also mentioned a saying of Madame 
de Stael's, which has occasioned much dispute as to 
the wording of it. Speaking of a cousin she was 
much attached to, she said : " Elle a tous les talents 
qu'on m'accorde, et toutes les vertues qu'on me refuse," 
or " Elle a tous les talents qu'on me suppose, et toutes 
les vertues qui me manquent," which last Miss Edge- 
worth likes best as having more finesse than the 
other. The whole conversation was so completely 
unlike any other two old ladies meeting on a morn- 
ing visit that 1 should have liked to have noted down 
all they said. 

We dined at the Codringtons ' in the evening. I 
sat between Sir Thomas Bourchier and Sir Henry 
Bunbury, whom I perfectly delight in. We talked a 
great deal about geology and different theories, and 
all sorts of interesting subjects, lie was once a great 
geologist ; but now his son, who is secretary to the 
Geological Society, knows so much more that he says 
he does not dare to speak on the subject. This geo- 
logical son Granny was introduced to, and instantly 
asked him for our tea on Thursday, and also Sir 
Frederick Nicholson, who came in for one minute. 

* [Colonel, afterwards General Sir William Codrington, G.C.B., and 
liis wife, who was Miss Mary Ames.] 

2o8 EMBER COURT [1844 

15///. Went down to Ember Court with Uncle Willy. 
Aunt Jean ^ had a bad headache, and was unable to 
come down ; the three girls, however, were very glad 
to see us. Edward ^ is grown a tall, very thin lad, and 
does not look at all strong. 

I was particularly struck with the house and the 
comfort of the drawing-room, with its two bay 
windows, and hung round with good paintings. One 
of a Jewish rabbi by Rembrandt, which hangs over 
the chimney-piece, is beautiful. In the library hangs 
Sir J. Reynolds's celebrated portrait of Garrick, and in 
the dining-room is one of Teniers' best. There are 
several Guidos, Canaletti, Poussin, Caracci, one of 
Vandyke's, and many others by painters whose names 
I forget. 1 could only look at them in a great hurry, 
but if they wish me to go and stay there a day I shall 
examine them at my leisure. We stayed at Ember till 
three, when they walked with us to Esher, where 
we got on the railroad and were in town in half an 

i6tJi. Bobus, Admiral Codrington and Maria, and 
Mr. Bunbury dined here. Bobus is grown infinitely 
more infirm, and his blindness increases very fast. 
He placed himself at the dinner-table as soon as he 
came, and did not attempt getting upstairs after dinner, 
so we returned to the dining-room. He and the 
Admiral talked much about the site of Navarino; it 
seems there has been a great dispute as to whether or 
not it is mentioned by the Greek historians, and under 
what name. Bobus quoted Greek authors, and the 
Admiral talked of his own experience, so they made 
it out very well together. Mr. Bunbury Grandpapa 
thought clever, and he would be agrccai3le if he had 
not such an odd, hesitating manner of speaking. We 
looked in for a minute at Mrs. Drummonds, but found 
every one going, so we went too. Westmacott was 
there ; 1 like him better every time 1 see him. There 
is a report that he will marry Mrs. Drummond, but I 
do not think it likely. He is so clever that it would 
be a pity for him to abandon his profession. 

' [Daiij,flUcr of Robert Taylor, ]Cs<|. ; married Sir Charles Sullivan, 
Bart., in 1818.] 
* [Afterwards Sir Edward Sullivan, Bart.] 


18///. — Dined with Bunburys. The other people 
there were Lady de Dunstanville, whom Lady Morley 
calls an a-propos woman, H. Codrington, Wollaston 
Blake, and a few strange men. 1 sat between Mr. 
Bunbury and Mr. Bhdve, and we all three talked 
nineteen to the dozen. Mr. Bunbury is very unlike 
other young men, clev^er and very odd ; whenever 1 
meet him we invariably talk of books or something 
much more sensible than might be expected at a party. 
Lady Bunbury I like very much, she is so civil and 
so kind to me. 

The Colbournes, Bourchicrs, and some unknowns 
came in the evening, but we left early and went to a 
party at Mrs. Drummond's, which was very pleasant. 
Lady Morley was there and Miss Lister, to whom she 
introduced me ; Westmacott, whom 1 do not think 
Mrs. Drummond, from her open praise of him, has an 
idea of marrying ; the Sydney Smiths, Milmans, Mr. 
Babbage, Faraday, Professor Wheatstone, who is a 
little man — young, with spectacles — whom I should 
never have looked at had I not been told he was a lion. 
Faraday was there to look at the lamps, which are his 
own sort and consume their own smoke, and are twice 
as brilliant as any others. Mrs. Drummond's house is 
quite lovely. Sydney Smith's idea is perfect, that the 
drawing-room is the nearest thing to the Arabian 
Nights he ever saw. The walls are painted, the ceiling 
painted and gilt, the chairs white and gold, and 
looking-glasses in all directions. Mrs. Drummond was 
pleasant, as 1 think she generally is, and keeps her 
people well alive by always moving. Heard two 
sayings of Sydney Smith's : one that when some one 
having asked Westmacott why among his figures he 
had no American, he answered that the costume would 
be so like the English as to make no distinction. 
"Distinction!" said Sydney Smith, "make some one 
presenting the American with a bill, and him slinking 
away behind the barrels." Also his opinion of fashion- 
able society, which is, that it is high table-land, very 
flat and cold. 

22nd. — Went to Landseer's by appointment, who 
showed us all his paintings, finished and unfinished. 
His largest is an otter hunt with Lord Aberdeen's 
hounds : the huntsman, in red, stands in the midst hold- 



ing the otter on the top of a long spear, and the dogs 
all looking up, barking and jumping at it. Some are 
wet and dirty, some, bit by the otter, whining with pain, 
others leaping on the man ; in short, in every possible 
attitude. The picture is not yet finished. There is 
one of the Queen and Prince in one of the rooms at 
Windsor, with a view of the garden from the window, 
which, Landseer says, he has been obliged to copy 
exactly, as also the carpet, paper, curtains, etc. The 
Prince is seated on a sofa in his shooting jacket (sitting, 
that the Queen may not look too short) and the Queen 
standing near him, evidently listening with eagerness 
to his account of the da3^'s sport. Two favourite dogs, 
a greyhound and spaniel, are at Prince Albert's feet, 
and rabbits, hares, and wild fowl are lying about, while 
the Princess Royal is playing with a dead duck. The 
picture is prett}'^, and wonderful, considering the 
difficulty of the subject. He has also just finished 
one of a Dutch lady seated in a chair with a spaniel 
asleep in her lap : she is very pensive, and another 
black and tan spaniel tries to attract her attention. 
This will not be exhibited, though the others all will. 

Landseer is at this moment painting one of a red 
deer coming to the side of an American lake by moon- 
light, but it is in so unfinished a state that we could 
hardly judge of its effect. " Not so easily caught," is 
another of a wary old fox eyeing the bait, but too 
cautious to bite. The fox is actually alive : the coat is 
glossy, and its eyes seem ready to start out of its head. 
The last large picture was one of a fine brown dog 
surrounded by dead game of every sort, painted with 
a brilliancy and truth that quite startled one. These 
and a few sketches, amongst others one of the Queen 
in a black velvet riding habit with a Spanish hat and 
feather, and a little bit of fresco about two feet square 
that he had tried as an experiment. I had no idea 
fresco could be so bright, and admit of such finish, and 
the advantage of looking well in an^' point of view is 
immense. 1 have nearly forgotten one other large 
picture of a blacksmith shoeing a mare, which will 
be beautiful. Landseer was agreeable, courteous, and 
huiiible, as he always is, about himself. 

2ird. — Did not go to the Palmerstons', as we had 
been out every day of the week, and Granny had not 

A WOr.MiKl) Iliil;-!. (l;V I.ADY DACRIi). 
From the wa.x model in the possession 0/ Mr. John Murray. 

To face p. 210. 

i844] PANIZZI 211 

slept well. Went to Westmacott's with the Farquhars : 
he is making small alterations, which will do good, I 

24///. — Panizzi and Wollaston Blake dined here and 
were very agreeable, but would have been ten times 
more so had they gone at half-past ten instead of 
half-past eleven. Panizzi is so warm-hearted and 
affectionate ; he talked much of the new dramatic 
poem " Arnaldo di Brescia" by Nicolini, which is 
creating such a sensation in Italy. With some 
difficulty, owing to the interdict, he has obtained two 
copies, one of which he will lend us. He speaks 
highly of it, and says it is full of such noble sentiments, 
and of praises of liberty, that he does not wonder at 
its being forbidden, 

25///. — Papa and Uncle Will come to town for Aunt 
Balfour's funeral. They and Mr. Whitbread dined 
here, and very snug we were. Finished the " Sorrows 
of Werther," which amuse, interest, and bore me. 
The sentiment is too much. 

26th. — Went to the opera with Papa and the Bour- 
chiers, who were much pleased by my asking them to 
go with me. Carlotta Grisi delighted me more than 
ever : she is very decent, and dances with so much 
expression, you do not merely feel that you are looking 
at a wonderful feat, but at spirit overflowing with 
gaiety and joyousncss. She moves her arms very 
gracefully ; in short, is always graceful all over, and 
as if she could not help it. 

27//?. ^Called on Mrs. Sartoris, who seemed out of 
spirits. I was much struck by her likeness in voice 
and manner to our poor dear Fanny,^ and also by a 
bust she has of Fanny, which is extremely like. Went 
to Lady Bunbur3''s in the evening. She lies under a 
mistake if she thinks about nine people in two large 
rooms make a pleasant party. I liked it however, for 
1 had a long parley with Mr. Bunbury about languages 
— French, English, German, and Italian, and their 
diflferent geniuses : the power all three, but our own, 
have of tutoyer-ing, etc., etc.; ending with Petrarch 

' [Fanny Kemble.] 


and Grann3^'s Translations, of which she has given 
Lady Bunbury a copy. 

28///. — We went back to Lough's, where we saw two 
large groups in clay to compete for the prize in West- 
minster Hall. He showed us his lago for Sir M. 
Ridley's Shakespeare Galler}^, which is merely a 
fine-looking man with rather a sinister expression, in 
Roman drapery, with a mask in his hand, and therefore 
no more lago than any one else in the world. It does 
strike me as the most foolish attempt to represent 
Shakespeare's characters in stone, where you have 
neither costume nor colouring, added to which it 
matters so little what they look like in comparison to 
what they think and say. Beauty of form has but 
little to say to the beauty of his Juliet, Portia, Queen 
Katherine, Hamlet, etc., or how could we bear to see 
them acted by ugly or commonplace-looking people, 
however well they might act ? We looked at Lord 
Collingwood, Milo, etc., again, and at the Satan, which 
I admire more than ever. There is a grandeur, majestic 
haughtiness, and noble wickedness in it worthy of 
Milton's Satan : so much finer than the commonplace 
devils with horns and tails. 

April I. — Heard two new stories of Sydney Smith. 
One that when the Bishop of London and the clergy- 
man of St. Paul's were debating as to how St. Paul's 
should be repaved, and objecting to wood pavement 
on account of some difficulties attending it, he said, 
" I do not know that there would be much difficulty if 
you two were to lay your heads together." 

Then, when told that the clergyman who has been 
lately tried for maiming and kilHng his neighbour's 
cattle who strayed into his grounds, was not found 
guilty because the jury did not know what punishment 
to inflict, his opinion was that nothing was too severe 
— " Let him be torn in pieces by wild curates." 

2;/^/.— Harry came uj) from Brighton at half-past 
eleven. A glorious day, notwithstanding which we 
longed too much to get home to enjoy our journey. 
Harry was as quiet as a mouse, which enabled me 
to carry down two of Barby's old models in safety. 
Found Frank looking well : just arrived at home. The 

1 844] BALLS AND PLAYS 213 

two boys have never left each other for a moment, and 
have ended with falling asleep in one bed, close 

20///. — 1 have completely abandoned my journal lor 

so long that I hardly know where to begin. I went to 

the Hoo from the 9th to the 1 2th to meet the Bourchiers, 

Hatty Marten, and Lady Morley, all in high force, 

and charming in their different ways; Lady Morley 

overtlowing with drollery. Sir E. Bulwer Lytton 

dined there one night ; he is ugly, and like Retsch's 

Mephistopheles. On the 12th Hatty went home to 

finish packing up, as, to our great grief, they have let 

Marshall's Wick for two years. On Saturday the Hoo 

races took place : very good. Wednesday, Frank went 

to school, and we returned to town. Went to a party 

at the Bunburys' — much pleasanter than usual, as the 

room was fuller — and a grand ball at Mrs. Grenfell's. 

Thursday, a ball at Mrs. Holland's, for which Barby 

came up with Mrs. Hibbert for one night : the 

merriest, nicest ball ever seen ; knew a great many 

people, and danced every dance ; I never enjoyed any 

ball half so much. Friday, went with Whitbreads 

and Leicesters to the play ; they are only in town 

for a short time, and happily the very time I am here. 

They had the Duchess of Bedford's box at Drury 

Lane, but for some reason the theatre was shut up, 

so we went to the Haymarket, where we saw " Used 

Up," in which Matthews is excellent ; " Grist to the 

Mill," in which Madame Vestris is also excellent ; and 

a man and two sons perform wonderful feats, such 

as standmg on each other's heads, feet, and hands, 

etc. To-day Papa takes Harry home, calling for 

Barbarina on his way. Granny and Grandpapa dined 

at the Whitbreads, but I had a headache and could 

not go, but stayed quietly at home reading *' Arnaldo 

di Brescia," an Italian play, which has created a great 

sensation in Italy, partly on account of its being 

proscribed on account of the abuse of the Popes, and 

partly owing to the exhortations to the Italians to 

recover their liberty. I see that it is evidently only 

a vehicle for Nicolini — the author's — political opinions. 

It is difficult to get a copy, as every book is carefully 

concealed. Rolandi procured one, but it was not at 

home, so Panizzi has lent us his, which was sent to 


him secretly. I also read a great deal of Madame 
de Stael's " Allemagne." I never read it before, which 
I wonder at, but rejoice at the same time, as I am the 
more able to enjoy it. It seems to me by far the 
cleverest work of hers I ever read, not only so cleverly 
thought, but so well expressed, the language so neat, 
so lively, and every word so happily placed that the 
least alteration would be for the worse. It is the 
most difficult book to lay down, one cannot tear 
oneself away from it, though it is not a book to run 
through, as there is much to think over every page. 
Her comparison between the German and French, 
their manners, language, customs, and conversational 
powers must be very true, I should think, and very 
impartial. Then the chapters upon education, and 
particularly on Pestalozzi's plan, are excellent. In 
her critiques upon German authors and their works, 
I was surprised to read that the " Sorrows of Werther " 
had occasioned a number of suicides. I do not 
understand why, for Werther found it most difficult 
and unpleasant killing himself, putting it off from day 
to day, and gives anything but an agreeable idea of 
such a way of ending one's da3^s. All that is said of 
Oberon, Klopstock, Goethe's " Egmont," Joan of Arc, 
Mary Stuart, etc., is most amusing, and I must read 
" Allemagne " again when I have read " Don Carlos," 
" The Robbers," etc. 

22nd. — Mr. Wilshire last night was full of plans 
to hinder Granny's model getting into the hands of 
people who would not appreciate it, and we hope 
to manage so as to keep the lottery among friends 
only. The Infirmary bazaar will not take place till 
August, so there is time to think about it. Lady 
Morley has given us some little things she wrote for 
our "Intellectual" stall; for Granny's, which we are 
to keep, is to be principally food for the mind, and, as 
Mrs. Wilshire proposes, should be opposite the 
refreshment stall, which should be headed " F'ood 
for the body." Went to see Julia Leicester ^ at twelve, 
and had a very comfortable coze with her, and then 
to the dentist, who did nothing to me, and then 
shopped. Granny bought me a bonnet, an acceptable 

' [Julia, eldest daughter of Samuel Whitbrcad, of Caidington ; 
married the Earl of Leicester in 1843.] 



f)resent just now, as I am determined to mourn no 
onger for Aunt Balfour ! Drove in the open carriage 
round Regent's Park, which looks very pretty ; if the 
trees were only twenty years older, it would look better 
still. Dined alone with Julia, but came away at nine, 
as she goes to bed then, and went to the Misses Berry, 
which turned out stupid, nothing but very old women 
whom I did not know ; a very few old men, equally 
unknown. Miss W. Horton and I the only beings 
under fifty. 

26th. — Again I have wonderfully neglected my poor 
journal. I find I cannot get up early, as I did when 
I first came to town. 

Drove to Hampstead to see Joanna Baillie, who 
seemed well, but is grown very, very old. Rogers 
met us at her door, and talked some time to us. 

2yth. Lady Grey, Lady Caroline Barrington, the 
Bruces, Cousin Annie, and her father dined with us. 
Every one seemed happy, and the dinner was pleasant. 
Lady Morley looked in in the evening, as did the 
Woods, in the most cordial, friendly way, uninvited, 
so everything prospered. Lady Georgiana ^ and Lady 
Caroline much less reserved than usual, and very 
kind ; Lady Georgiana told me at dinner she liked 
people to be very eager, not only in youth, but all 
their lives, and that the disadvantages of often saying 
and doing things one wished unsaid and undone the 
moment after, was nothing compared to the good pro- 
ceeding from it. An opinion not unpleasant to me, who 
am always labouring in vain to be less eager, and con- 
tinually scolded for my eagerness. Cousin Annie 
likewise asked me why 1 was so quiet at dinner, and 
why I did not talk more; not an unpleasant remark 
for me either ! So I felt very comfortable all the 
evening in consequence. 

We called to-day on poor Sir A. Callcott, whom I 
have not seen for two years, and am terribly struck 
with his sick and oldened look, though Granny, who 
has seen him lately, thought him better. He spoke 
much of the Prince, and praised him, saying he knew 
no man of his age who interested himself so much 
about his (Callcott's) art, and who knew so much 

' [Lady Georgiana Grey, and her sister, Lady Caroline Barrington.] 


about it, and that he heard every one— geologists, 
musicians, etc. — said the same; at the same time 
thinking himself ignorant and wishing to improve; 
he also has the power of listening to others, which 
Sir A. Callcott says is a rare and delightful talent in 
a royal personage. 

Mr. Young ^ called early this morning, and was 
so delighted to see me that I thought he would have 
given me a paternal embrace, and kissed me on the 
forehead as he used in olden times, but he restrained 
himself, and only kissed my hand vehementl}^, dear 
old man ! I was very glad to see him. He reminds me 
of old days, and is so fond of me, I should be un- 
grateful not to be fond of him. 

30///. — Went with Mrs. Drummond to see Wheat- 
stone's electrical telegraph, which is the most wonderful 
thing I ever saw. It is perfect from the terminus of 
the Great Western as far as Slough, that is, eighteen 
miles ; the wires being in some places underground 
in tubes, and in others high up in the air, which last, 
he says, is by far the best plan. We asked if the 
weather did not affect the wires, but he said not : a 
violent thunderstorm might ring a bell, but no more. 
We were taken into a small room (we being Mrs. 
Drummond, Miss Phillips, Harry Codrington, and 
myself, and afterwards the Milmans and Mr. Rich), 
where were several wooden cases, containing different 
sorts of telegraphs. In one sort every word was spelt, 
and as each letter was placed in turn in a particular 
position, the machiner}^ caused the electric fluid to 
run down the line, where it made the letter show itself 
at Slough, by what machinery he could not undertake 
to explain. After each word came a sign from Slough, 
signifying " I understand," coming certainly in less 
than one second from the end of the word. Another 
one is worked by figures which mean whole sentences, 
there being a book of reference for the purpose. 
Another prints the messages it brings, so that if no 
one attended to the bell, which they all ring to call 
attention when they are at work, the message would 
not be lost. This is effected by the electrical fluid 
causing a httle hammer to strike the letter which 

' [I'hc well-known actor.] 


presents itself, the letter which is raised hits some 
manifold writint^ paper (a new invention, black pajjcr, 
which, if pressed, leaves an indelible black mark), 
by which means the impression is left on white paper 
beneath. This was the most ingenious of all, and 
apparently Mr. Wheatstone's favourite ; he was very 
good-natured in explaining, but understands it so well 
himself that he cannot feel how little we know about 
it, and goes too fast for such ignorant folk to follow 
him in everything. Mrs. Drummond told me he is 
wonderful for the rapidity with which he thinks and 
his power of invention ; he invents so many things 
that he cannot put half his ideas into execution, but 
leaves them to be picked up and used by others, who 
get the credit of them. 

May 2. — Came home. The country, the trees, the 
smells too lovely all the way down, and our rooms 
both quite perfect. It is impossible to say which is 
best, they are each so pretty in their different ways. 
Dawdled about all day enjoying the country air, and 
home. Granny showed me a translation she once 
made of Ugolino's account of his death, not in terza- 
rima, but after Wright's fashion, beautifully done 
and very exact. We talked over Barby's translation 
of Petrarch's " Trionfo d'Amore," which she has 
sent to-day to Mrs. Hibbert, who set her the task. 
It is now polished up, and is wonderfully good I 

1 went to the school, and was pleased to find 
the girls much improved since I was last there in 
February — in writing, work, and readiness to speak 
and answer boldly. As usual, 1 am full of good 
resolutions, and intend to attend diligently to the 
school and village, besides my own occupations. I 
also intend to get up early, play on the pianoforte 
before breakfast, draw a great deal, read a great deal 
of English. (Amongst the books to be read : Alison, ten 
vols., Lockhart's " Life of Scott," and Hume; German 
and Italian, besides learning Spanish ; and in addition 
to all this Shakespeare, Milton, Byron, Petrarch, 
Alfieri, Spenser, more than ever.) N.B. — I will look 
back a month hence and see how I keep these good 
resolves and thousands of others floating about my 
mind, but not c|uite formed. 


Sth. — Drove with Emily to the Hyde. Began Sir C. 
Bell's " Anatomy of Expression " for my upstairs book, 
and Lockhart's " Life of Sir W. Scott " for my drawing- 
room one. Learned two Spanish verbs and a good 
deal of the grammar, read a little German, and drew 
a little, besides playing nearly an hour and a half 
before breakfast. 

gth. — Drew, read a good deal of Lockhart, but some- 
how or other had no time for German or Spanish ; 
dressed before nine, and played on the pianoforte. 
Sir. W. Scott's Life is very interesting, pleasantly 
written, and showing one how curiously his mind 
always, from his earliest childhood, turned to the 
subjects he wrote upon, and how his principal 
characters were generally taken from life. 

June 5. — Papa took Frank to the Charterhouse, 
dined with Barby, and got home at half past eleven. 
Frank went off in good spirits, and was put under the 
protection of a young Blomfield, whom he met on 
going there in the evening. Had a good read at 
Sir W. Scott (after an after-dinner stroll with Emily), 
which was most agreeable after stitching away so 
many days at Frank's wardrobe. 

I have been reading some pamphlets on the state of 
education among the lower classes abroad, as com- 
pared to England; in Switzerland, Holland, Russia 
(though there followed up with odious military regu- 
lations), and Germany, particularly some of the smaller 
states : as Wtirtemberg, Bavaria, etc., and it seems to 
be admirable. The schoolmaster having received a 
far better, and infinitely more extensive education than 
ours in the same station, and moreover having been 
taught to teach. The system seems to work best 
where parents are not forced to send their children, 
but the whole thing is in the hands of government, 
and none can be schoolmasters but those who, having 
passed satisfactorily through the elementary, normal, 
and finishing schools, and having proved themselves 
capable of instructing others from practice under 
superiors, have received a license, and are always 
subject to the inspection of government. Much more 
care appears to be taken abroad to educate, and not 
only instruct, but open the child's mind, and teach 

1844] MUNDEN 219 

him things suited tcj his station in life. The schools 
also for the middle classes a[)pcar admirable ; they learn 
modern languages, geometry, botany, farming, book- 
keeping, mathematics, besides history, geography, etc. 
Oil, that they would do something here instead of 
letting whole generations grow up in a frightful state 
of ignorance and wickedness, while it is talked over 
in Parliament from year to year, and no measures 

18///. — Waterloo aniversary, twenty-nine years ago. 
I have neglected my poor journal for a whole week, 
and hardly know how to fetch up my distance. We 
went to Munden on Wednesday, and KDund the Edens^ 
with their two eldest children. Lena, alias Eleanor, 
and Willie, with a nice open countenance and pretty 
manners — he is about fourteen, Lena seventeen. Now, 
having despatched these two, I will proceed to their 
parents. Mrs. Eden I had met one day in London, so 
1 knew her, but Mr. Eden I had never seen since he 
was at the Vicarage, twelve years ago ; though but six 
then, I remember him perfectly, and could have picked 
him out among a dozen people. They were both most 
kind to me, and have asked me to go to Battersea next 
month or whenever I like. 

We went on Friday to Mrs. Mibbert's school, where 
Mr. Eden examined the children ; they were quite in- 
telligent, I think, but the questions were very easy. 
I admired Mr. Eden's fluency and thorough knowledge 
of what he was about ; it would be odd certainly if he 
did not, as he does little else, but still practice has 
made him perfect to a degree ! 

Now, to turn to the Hibberts themselves : they were 
more kind, more charming than ever; I was in one 
long rapture all the time 1 was there. Mrs. Hibbert 
has some thought of getting up " Bulls and Frogs."" 
The girls have learned a good deal of it by heart, and 
she asked me to do it a little with them one morning 
under the trees. I felt inclined to be shy at standing 
up so completely sans theatre and theatrical dress, but 
I was determined not to be a fool, and as " where 
there's a will there's a way," I did it as well as I could. 

' [Hon. Robert Eden, Vicar of Battersea, afterwards 3rd Baron 
Auckland, and Bishop of Bath and Wells.] 
* [See page 152.] 

220 MUNDEN [1844 

Lizzie ^ would do it beautifully — no shyness, no fear of 
speaking loud or slowly, no fear of over-acting — she 
would do it almost without teaching. Katie not quite 
so decided a turn for it, but saying (not acting) her 
part nicely too. 

I admire Mrs. Hibbert more than before — I think 
she is certainly very handsome; and the variety of 
expression in Mr. Hibbert's countenance is quite won- 
derful. One minute you see him looking worn out with 
pain and illness, the next he brightens up and looks 
animated, happy, and handsome. When he is thinking 
he looks so thoughtful, when scolding the dogs, etc., 
so very fierce, when full of fun so very malicious and 
good-naturedly satirical, that it would puzzle a painter 
to find a fixed expression to copy. They are the only 
two people I ever saw both so agreeable, clever, well- 
informed, and ready to talk, yet drawing out everybody 
else, and making all their company seem clever and 
agreeable too. But I may as well stop or I shall fill 
my journal with their perfections, which is needless, as 
I shall not be likely to forget them. 

We went home Saturday. Papa and Emily much 
pleased with their visit ; found Mary and her chicks 
just arrived from King's Walden, where the}- had been 
most happy. Monday, I came here (King's Walden) 
early, with papa, who came over to play at cricket on 
the King's Walden side against Hitchin. We beat the 
Hitchin eleven in one innings hollow, but our great 
superiority made the game stupid. 

August 16. — Came here(Cardington) last Friday, and 
found Julia, Duke and Duchess of Bedford, and Lady 
Vivian, and Mrs. W. Ellice ; now ever3'body but Lady 
Vivian is gone : she remains for ten days longer. She 
is very pretty, with an Irish accent, and strong love of 
Ireland, which I like. 

Julia cannot get about much, so I have ample time 
to sit with her ; she and Aunt Gertie are full ot nurses, 
etc. She drove this afternoon, and I walked with Bessie 
to see the lace-makers. At twelve o'clock we all met 
in the schoolroom and read a chapter, and a bit of 
Palcy. We are all very full of Paley's idea as to 
whether or no Sunday is the Jewish Sabbath. Bessie 

' [Married Sir Henry Holland, 2nd Bart., now Lord Knutbford, and 
died in 1855.] 

i844] CARDINGTON 221 

decidedly thinks it is, and that no dinner should be 
cooked, beds made, slous emptied, etc. 1 think it a 
separate affair altogetner, not regularly instituted, 
but sanctioned by custom and the Apostles meeting 
together to worship and break bread. So far we 
should imitate them, but I doubt whether we are 
bound further to keep it holy like the Jewish Sabbath. 
The disciples apparently devoted it to God's service, 
and so should we ; but we read nothing enjoining 
strictness of any sort on that day. It is true the 
fourth commandment is there with the nine others, 
as the moral law which is to hold good ; but then 
the "sabbaths and new moons" of the Jewish con- 
verts are mentioned as alike unnecessary for Christians 
to keep. 

20///.— Stayed at Cardington till to-day, when Granny 
brought me home again. My trip there answered 
thoroughly, for I saw a great deal of Julia and Aunt 
Julia, and made great friends with Lady Vivian. Drove 
"one day to Southill with Julia ; we did not go in, but 
drove about the grounds and round the lake. It is 
beautiful, and the green rides among the trees and 
fern made me long for Taffy. 

Mr. Whitbread has made Cardington an excellent 
house within, though outside the new spacious red 
wings look absurd each side of the old original house ; 
the offices and tail excellent. Found Barbarina and 
Frank just returned from Munden, and Harry for his 
week's holiday. 

2'jth. — All dined at the Hoo but me. I am not at 
all well, and am nearly bullied to death by Houston's 
medicines to cure my indigestion. 

October g.—RQ^d Alfieri's " Oreste and Tinioleone" 
aloud. Dined last Friday at the Hyde; very merry. 
On Monday the McLeods went away. We have all 
taken a great fancy to Roma. 1 like what little I 
know of iier better than Mary ; she is very handsome, 
and thoroughly Scotch all over. 

A new supply of books from Rolandi arrived yester- 
day, and we have to-day begun Guizot's " Civilisation 
de rEurope." I have got from the Hoo Rollins's " His- 
toire de Rome," and have boldly begun abridging it, 
to keep up my French a little. 

222 ST. ALBANS [1844 

11//;.— Read Guizot; began Whately on the " Errors 
of Romanism." 

13///. — I am now in tlie midst of the "Errors of 
Romanism," which, if possible, is still cleverer, more 
energetic, liberal, wise, and good-doing than the other 
volumes. The essay on superstition is quite excellent. 
He does not write to show up the Romanists, but to M 
show how their errors are those into which men m 
naturally fall (and which the Roman Church erred in I 
sanctioning, not in originating), and that, therefore, it 
behoves us to watch that we do not fall into the 
same errors under new names and shapes, which he 
proves most clearly we often do, and are likely to 
do, the more from our feeling sure of avoiding them, 
considering them as belonging only to Rome. 

\6th. — Blakes dined with us ; Mr. Blake very agree- 
able. We fulfilled our long-projected excursion to 
St. Alban's Abbey with Mrs. Hibbert. Barby and I 
went in the four-wheeled cart with Sultan, and drove 
into the town just at two ; and as we had put up at 
the Pea Hen, we saw Mrs. Hibbert and the two girls 
coming up the hill. They drove straight to the Abbey, 
whither we followed, and flew into each other's arms, 
to the surprise of vergers, clerks, etc. They said there 
was to be a funeral almost immediately, so we were 
not to go in ; upon this, we set off to find the fountain 
which bubbled up when St. Alban was thirsty and his 
executioners would not give him any water. Just in 
the right place we found the remains of a little well, 
bricked half over ; but alas ! filled up, and containing 
nothing but rubbish. 

Some ruins, not far off, we determined to be those 
of the nunnery of Sopwell, the abbess whereof. Lady 
Juliana Berners, wrote one of the first books that was 
printed in England, concerning field sports. We then 
proceeded to look at an old tower, which is now built 
round by shops, which looked like part of a church. 
A man selling oysters told us it had never been any- 
thing but a watch-tower, that it could be traced back 
1,100 years, and tliat it contained a bell only, named 
Grabbles, but that the baker could tell us more. To 
the baker's we went, and bought a penny roll as a 
pretence for entering the shop. The baker was very 

i844] ST. ALBAN'S ABBEY 223 

intelligent and communicative, and had gained his 
information from a little book called Newcome's 
"History of St. Albans," lent him by a neighbouring- 
farmer. This book stated that a nun (from Soi)\vell, 
of course), was once lost in the forest, which then 
occupied the present site of St. Albans (this proving 
it to have been in the time of the ancient Verulam), in 
consequence of which this tower was built, and a light 
always kept burning in the night and the bell tolling 
to guide wanderers. The name of the bell turned out 
to be Gabrielle ; of course, so named from the nun. 

After this we went back to the Abbey and spent 
some time there. It is nearly the oldest in England, 
the latest alterations having been made before William 
the Conqueror, though repairs have constantly been 
required. Within the last few years ;^6,ooo have 
been expended in restoring windows (fifty) which had 
been blocked up, and taking coats of whitewash from 
the carved wood and stone, which are beautiful. It is 
all most remarkable, as showing the rise and fall of 
Gothic architecture, no specimen of which may not be 
found there. The ceiling is painted in little compart- 
ments, containing the arms of different kings, etc. 
There are many brasses in the church, of which copies 
have been lately taken, particularly one very large one 
of Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester in Henry VI. 's 
time, who is buried in a vault, down which we went. 

The carving is so much admired that casts have 
been taken lately for the new Houses of Parliament. 
Mrs. Hibbert astonished us with her knowledge of 
architecture and the arms of the old kings. We 
carried a message to her, begging her to come to the 
Vicarage; but her father, 1 am sorry to say, is ill, and 
she daily expects to go to Combe Elorey to him, so is 
obliged to put it off. 

30///. — Dined all four at Danesbury ; no one there 
but Mrs. Marcet, whom 1 had a great wish to see. 
She is a very ugly old woman, by no means clever- 
looking or brilliant, and so thoroughly unpretending- 
no one could imagine her to be the clever, celebrated 
person she is. 

315/. — Had a letter from Frank. I have just read 
the review of Arnold's Life in the Qmiiicrty Review. 


It is interesting, and makes me long the more for the 
book, which 1 have never yet found at hberty. Read 
the last Edinburgh Review while at the Hoo. There 
is an excellent attack on the Puseyites and Newman's 
" Lives of the Saints." There is also a life of the 
great Lord Chatham by Macaulay : most interesting, 
I had just before read a review of his written in 1825 
on Milton, which is beautiful, and it was curious to 
see the change in his style — so much less ornamented 
and figurative, though quite as vigorous. I am not 
sure which I prefer; on the whole the later one, I 
think. It is wonderful what a memory he has, what 
a knowledge of history, and how he seems to have 
lived among and intimately known those of whom he 
writes. He attacks Charles I. boldly, and upholds 
the Puritans. I am afraid his reasoning is not to be 

N.B. — I find I am becoming a Whig; not because 
those around me are so, but of " my own accord," and 
for some reasons, whether right or wrong. 

November 2. — Granny and Grandpapa went to town. 

6th. — Frolick still so lame that Emily lent me 
Taffy. Barbarina and I had a good scamper to- 
gether over Gustard Wood Common, Nomansland, 
Harpenden, etc. Ground very soft, and horses charm- 
ing. We have finished Guizot's " Civilisation de 
I'Europe " aloud, and Goethe's " Hermann and Doro- 
thea." The first I like, but there is a good deal of 
repetition ; one gets on like a corkscrew, going nearly 
all the way back to advance one step. The latter 
astonishes me, to think that such a clever man as 
Goethe should write such odd, homely twaddle! 1 
wonder whether it is celebrated or not. 1 am getting 
on with Pascal's " Provincialcs." They are very clever. 
The second volume rather hangs in hand, from one's 
naturally getting tired of being shown a thing oyer 
and over again, wiien one has made up one's mind 
long ago. 

There was an interesting article on his life in the 
North British Review. I did not realise before how 
great a man he was — philosoplier, mathematician, 
theologian, etc. — nor his connection with Port 


9///.— Went to the Hoo. Mr. Wortlcy^ and Mr. 
Martin there. Mr. Wortley went away again Monday 
morning, leaving us charmed with him ; he sang for 
us in the evening. Mr. Martin left on Tuesday, having 
got quite into our black books. 

Barby went to St. Albans to fetch Emily Holland, 
who is come for a few days. 

13///. — We have been reading Spanish, all three, not 
one knowing anything of it. I am, in fact, the most 
advanced, having worked at it for three weeks while 
Barbarina was in London. We took up the " Guerras 
Civiles di Grenada," and in two and a half hours got 
through sixteen pages, having carefully studied the 
rules for the pronunciation and looked through a little 
grammar. Miss Holland seems a very nice girl, and 
knows a wonderful quantity more than we do, I am 
sure. Mr. Webster and three Ames men dined. 

igt/i. — Hibberts came, bringing Parker with them. 
They stayed till Friday, when they carried off Emily 

I wish I had kept up my journal, but now I can only 
say that we were in the seventh heaven while they 
were here. We were very sorry to lose Emily Holland, 
who had become quite domesticated amongst us, 
working away in our room at Spanish, etc. 1 hope 
we shall see a great deal of her. While the Hibberts 
were here we had some of the Hydes to dine, Mrs. 
Ames, Lionel and Captain Brownrigg, and William 
Blake. It did pretty well, but not so well as Granny's 
coming down to us the evening before with Mr. 
Bunbury, who is at the Hoo. She left all her com- 
pany — Cavendishes and Farquhars — to dine with us, 
and a most agreeable dinner we had. 

December 8. — Sunday evening. Having all come 
to bed early, and having begun fires in our bedrooms 
in the evening, I must fetch up my poor journal, which 
I have shamefully neglected. 

After the Hibberts and Emily Holland left, 1 went 
to the Hoo for some days to see the Farquhars and 
Martens, after which B. took my place, and has 
remained there till now. 

' [The Hon. James Archibald .Stuart W'orllcy, afterwards Recorder 
of London] 


226 ** PIQUE AND REPIQUE" [1844 

I like Barbarina Farquhar ^ much ; Maria,- no doubt, 
is a worthy individual, but peculiarly unpleasing. She 
does " literary " all day, and what is to be done with a 
girl who walks out in December with two books ! 
She is poetry mad among other things. 

The Martens were very nice as usual ; we had a 
little dancing one night while they were at the Hoo, 
being reinforced by a party from the Hyde, including 
Augusta Wilson, who is there. The Martens went on 
to the Hyde ; we have constantly dined there, and had 
capital dancing — polking particularly. Captain Brown- 
rigg and Augusta Wilson and her brother making up 
a good many couples with us. 

Now, having mentioned all important facts, for the 
one thing which occupies our minds ! Mr. Wortley 
consents to act, and we are to get up " Pique and 
Repique " at Christmas. It has been turned into a 
French instead of a Polish play for the sake of the 
costume. B. and Mr. Wortley, hero and heroine ; 
Rose, Blanche ; Mr. Blake, Gros Jean ; and I, Mar- 
guerite. For the last two days I have been up to the 
Hoo early in the morning in spite of the outrageous 
cold, and remained there helping to copy parts, etc., as 
the whole play had to be written out clean, and every 
part, of course ; all without delay. To-morrow I am 
to walk up to breakfast, and we hope to finish B.'s 
part, which is all that remains, before the corps 
dramatique (all but Mr. Wortley) assemble at twelve 
to have the play read to them. 

While I am in a writing humour, I may as well say 
we have all been full of Miss Martineau's cure, and her 
letters on mesmerism, which must effectually disperse 
any belief Vi'hich may have crept into people's minds 
{vide Mrs. Hibbert in some degree); and also that I 
have been reading Arnold's Life. I must say how 
I admire him, and agree with him on almost every 
point ; his death is very fine, and so exactly as one 
could wish such a man to die. I am much struck with 
his despondency concerning England, our national 
sins of commission and omission, and how deeply they 
weighed him down in spite of his elasticity and vigour 
of mind. He and Wiiately were great friends, and 

' [Daughter of Sir Thomas Harvie Farquhar, 2n(l Uart. ; married 
Mark Milbank, Esq.] 

'^ [Her younger sister ; married W\\\'iam Cosway, Esq.]. 


Dr. Hawkins, though there seems to have been no one 
with whom he completely agreed, except, perhaps, the 
Chevalier Bunsen, whom he esteemed and respected 
in every point of view. 

I am reading some of his sermons on the Christian 
life, and though some are quite excellent, yet some 
disappoint me by an abruptness and unwillingness to 
go too deep into matters from want of space and time — 
a general vagueness, as if they were but introductions 
to something longer ; in short, some do not come up 
to what 1 expected from him. 

9///. — Dined at the Hyde by myself. Rose and 
William Blake came to the Hoo at twelve, heard the 

Elay, delighted, and carried off their parts. Coming 
ome from the Hyde saw a most immense fire King's 
Walden way, which turned out to be Roberts's and 
Bates's barns, so no wonder it looked large. This is 
the fifth, or, counting both, the sixth fire we have had 
lately, and none accidental as it seems. The buildings 
are more attacked than the stacks, but those principally 
of farmers who give low wages. 

10///. — Rose has given up her part ; at Mrs. Ames's 
instigation I take it, so we have written to beg Fanny 
Blake to be the old woman. 

12///. — Fanny Blake refuses; Granny determined to 
act herself. We did not approve at first, but she is 
not a bit nervous, does it so beautifully, and seems 
really to like it best, so that 1 am glad it is to be so. 

13///. — William Blake came at twelve, and we had a 
grand rehearsal ; Granny excellent ; Mr. Blake ditto, 
his voice and bows capital ; Barby good, but her part 
is so much more difficult and more important that it is 
not perfect yet. We both knov/ it by heart quite well. 

15///. — Oh horror, disappointment, and rage! Mr. 
Wortley cannot come Thursday on account of busi- 
ness, but, if possible, will come early enough on 
Saturday to rehearse, so that as the thing is to be 
done Monday, the time is short enough. Luckily, we 
call it only a dress rehearsal, so no one wnll expect 
much, and if it succeeds we are to do it again. The 


Hibberts cannot come till Monday, and only stay one 
night — better than nothing certainly. Our dresses, 
which Emma has been hard at work at for the last few 
days, are perfect. 

19//?. — Came to the Hoo, nine precious souls! 
Rehearsed a great deal. I walked up, the first time 
I had been out for ten days, and made my cold worse 

20th. — Mr. Blake came, rehearsed a little in the 
morning. Drew up a play bill, wrote five or six copies 
of it, and settled curtains, theatre decorations, etc. 
Barby wrote an epilogue for me in about two minutes, 
which is quite excellent, and very humourous and 
witt}^, as Grandpapa says. We have this evening 
rehearsed the whole play, with lamps, etc. : Frank as 
scene-shifter, and the Brands, Emily, and Grandpapa 
as audience ; also Harry, who was asleep, stretched 
out on three chairs, half the time. 

We were pronounced to get on very well ! and 
highly praised on the whole, though when we first 
came on we spoke too fast from fright. Mr. Blake is 
inimitable as Gros Jean : his voice, his walk, all excel- 
lent. Granny, too, did her part well ; of course, well 
as to acting, but pretty well as to finding her places in 
the paper she holds all the time. This is our first 
entire rehearsal, and it has been most useful, but very 
exhausting; we shall require an ample supper, at least, 
on Monday night. I half spoke, half read the new 
epilogue, which I consider an unheard-of pitch of 
resolution, as 1 had but one quarter of an hour before 
dinner to look at it. B. spoke the prologue beautifully. 

2 is/. — Mr. Wortley arrived about five, when we 
instantly carried him off to see the theatre, of which 
he approved highly. At quarter-past nine we began 
to rehearse, admitting no one but Papa to prompt. 
B. sj)okc the prologue very well indeed, though natu- 
rally frightened. We then began in no small perturba- 
tion, but hearing one or two " Very wells " murmured, 
we took courage and went on prosperously enough, 
Mr. Wortley setting us right, suggesting improve- 
ments, teaching us to move in the most charming 
way both by precept and example. When he came 


on, we were all anxiety to know what our Count 
would be like, and high as 1 had raised my expee- 
tations of his acting, he far surpassed them all. His 
voice is beautiful, the low tones particularly, his 
expression so varied, his emotion so touching, and 
so entirely knowing his business, and being at home 
on the stage ; not that he knows his part yet : he 
has had business, and could not learn at all, so that 
he read the greater part. 1 do not suppose his part is 
difficult, but it would be impossible to do it better. 

B. did her part better than 1 have ever seen her do 
it ; mine but middling on the whole, at least very 
unequal. My cold is heavy, and, as my throat was 
sore and I was afraid of coughing every moment, I 
could not do my best ; spoke poor B.'s epilogue badly, 
in a dead way. But 1 know it, and can do it, 1 am 

Altogether we have made great progress to-night, as 
we know each other's intentions, and Mr. Wortley has 
introduced much movement and variety, and helped 
us beyond measure ; his good nature and eagerness 
are delightful. We did not get done till half-past 
twelve, when we found everybody gone to bed ; and 
here 1 am now scribbling, having yet to prepare for 
Christmas Day. I forgot to say we shall not do it till 
Thursday, and that Miss Morritt has sent my cap, 
which is lovely! 

22nd. — Did not go to church ; my cold still bad. 

2'^rd. — Hibberts and Cavendishes (Codicote) came. 
We rehearsed from eleven in the morning till half-past 
six that we might give the Hibberts a dress rehearsal, 
as they cannot stay till Thursday. We worked really 
hard all the time, and advanced much. Immediately 
after dinner we dispersed to dress, and came down 
rather in a fuss as to the effect of our dresses, and as to 
whether they suited with each other. Luckily they all 
belonged to the same period, and were highly approved 
of. Mr. Wortley's is very handsome : a black velvet 
coat with slashed sleeves, ornamented with blue, tight 
high boots, and a drab beaver hat with a black plume 
and long curls ; Mr. Blake in a black square-cut coat, 
long red stockings above his knees, red rosettes and 
buckles on his shoes, a white wig, white eyebrows 


and moustache, and innumerable wrinkles — in short, 
so changed as to be unrecognisable. 

B. spoke the prologue beautifully ; we all acted our 
very best, required hardly any prompting, and were not 
frightened. The epilogue I spoke to B.'s entire satis- 
faction, and Granny's, the play having excited me to the 
proper pitch. 

24///. — Rehearsed the first two acts between half-past 
four and dressing-time, repeating the doubtful parts 
till we knew them thoroughly, though we got into a 
regular foolish laughing fit, with which Mr. Wortley 
at last became innoculated, though he tried long to be 
solemn. Finished the third after dinner : two hours 
at it. Many new lights suggested themselves, which 
were practised and approved of by Papa and all of us. 
We were all solemnity this evening to make up for 
our morning folly. We have made Granny rehearse 
without her paper, and I am sure she will do it much 
better ; her dress also will be improved — a red petti- 
coat, a blue and white calico gown, drawn through the 
placket holes and open in front, a high cap, shortish 
sleeves and mittens, and a white handkerchief folded 
in front. 

Our stage has been much altered ; a frame has 
been made whereon are stretched blue curtains, and 
then old pictures hung upon the walls, which, with 
old-fashioned red damask chairs — gilt — looks perfect, 

25/// {Christmas Day). — Went to morning church and 
made my cold worse. Had a very merry Christmas- 
like dinner. Read Dickens's " Chimes," which I do 
not like. All he writes has talent shown somewhere, 
but it is so exaggerated, and calculated to do mischief* 
I think. 

26///. — The play ! we rehearsed all the morning, and 
improved very much. The Ameses, Blakes, Rcids, 
Mr. F. Drake, Mr. Hardy, and his children came. The 
Codringtons were at the Hyde, and came of course; 
the Frederick Cavendishes here. We acted our very 
best, not a bit frightened, never out in our parts, and, 
in short, did it so incomparably better than ever before 
that we are in high spirits. Prologue and epilogue 
spoken to the satisfaction of the respective authoresses. 

i844] 1111^ CLERGY AND SURIMJCKS 231 

Mr. Wortley introduced a French ballad when putting 
on his cloak to breathe the air on the ramparts, which 
had an excellent effect. We ended with a jolly supper, 
and went to bed fully satisfied with ourselves and our 

27///.— -Brands and Cavendishes went away; Mr. 
Wortley changed his mind and stays until to-morrow. 
We have had a most charming evening, and he san^ 
after Papa and Emily were off to bed. 

28///. — Mr. Wortley stays on till Monday, as Lora 
and Lady Wharncliffe, whom he was to go to town 
to see, are not there. The day fine without fog, for 
the first time for weeks. I went out. Another most 
pleasant evening ; more singing. Hektor and Andro- 
mache is quite beautiful. Oh, how very, very much the 
most pleasing, agreeable man I ever saw Mr. Wortley 
is. Such ease of manner, such frankness and openness, 
so affectionate to Granny, and so far from any idea of 
foolish compliments, while he pays the greatest of all, 
talking of subjects of real interest. We began to talk 
of "Vasari"; so Barbarina got it out, and it led to all 
sorts of topics, on all of which he conversed with 
eagerness and animation. It is a pity he must go 
on Monday! 

29//?. — Did not go to church. ... I have forgotten 
to say there has been a great deal lately in the papers 
about the Bishop of Exeter, and his charges to his 
clergy to wear surplices, etc., pressing obedience 
on clergy and laity. This he has been forced to re- 
tract, so he is in a dignified position on the whole ! 
There is a capital comment in The AtJicnaitni on Miss 
Martineau's " Mesmeric Letters," clearly disproving 
her reasoning, and showing that if it (mesmerism) 
is true, she is no proof of it. 

30//^. — Mr. Wortley went early, to our great grief. 
Our theatre is dismantled, and all our theatricals and 
fun are over. We go home to-day, and shall devote 
ourselves to the boys. 

31s/. — Did a good deal of French with them. They 
are reading " Madame de la Rochejacqueline," which is 
the very thing. Harry is much improved in French. 

232 ILLNESS [1845 

He rode with Buckle. The last day of the old year ! 
A disagreeable reflection, on the whole, when one 
remembers how few of one's resolutions made last 
New Year's Eve have been put into execution. 

1845. January i {Ncvo Year's Day). — I hope it may 
be a happy new year to us all. Boys did their lessons 
and are gone out riding with B. to King's Walden. 
I have been reading several of Macaulay's " Essays " 
which Aunt Anna gave us, Machiavelli, Burleigh — which 
1 like very much — andHallam's "Constitutional History 
of England." How he does hate Charles I. ! and I am 
afraid with reason. I am reluctantly obliged to give 
him up, and consider him an obstinate, bigoted tyrant, 
and a hypocrite, I fear. I quite agree with his admira- 
tion for Cromwell. He was a great man, and made 
England great, feared, and respected by all her neigh- 
bours, and at peace at home. 

February 18. — I have been very ill. A rheumatic 
attack (not rheumatic fever, but something like a touch 
of it) in all my joints, and my cough very bad. Doctor 
Hawkins has been attending me ; and what with lying 
in bed, mustard poultices, physic, and a blister, I was 
so weak on Tuesday as to nearly faint after sitting up 
to have my bed made. However, I get strong very 
fast, as I have been up to-day since eleven and mean 
to stay up till ten, and have been able to employ myself 
all the time without being too tired ; not that 1 can read 
anything difficult or that requires too much attention, 
but B. has given me Moore's poems in ten volumes, 
delightfully got up, and *' Lalla Rookh " just suits me. 
1 have never seen it since Granny read it to me during 
the scarlet fever four years ago, and to my astonishment 
I remember nearly every page. ... 

London, March 22. — All this time I have been ill, 
and have kept no journal, both to avoid details of 
illness and the fatigue of sitting up to write. Poor 
Emily's illness has been most severe ; for days and 
days— weeks I may say — she was in the greatest danger, 
and is now only so far recovered as to be part of the 
day on the s(^fa. As for me, I will only say my cough 
turns out to be stomach, and that 1 cannot leave town 
because it (stomach) has not yet learnt to do its duty, 
so thai 1 (hue not leave the doctor. 

i845] "EOTHEN" 233 

We came to town on February 17, and Barbarina 
followed the 8th of this month to take care of me, and 
is lodged in Lady Grey's house, she being on a visit 
to her brother. Colonel Des Voeux. People have been 
kinder than can be told, in the way of inquiring and 
calling, lending books, etc. — the Wortleys very much 
so in the latter respect — and Mary calls continually — 
she is so much improved. Lady Howick has called 
very often, the Farquhars unremitting in their atten- 
tions, and Emily Holland has been my devoted slave, 
coming to see me nearly every day, hail, rain, or 
snow (anything more pleasant has been out of the 
question till to-day), reading to me, lending me books, 
Punch, etc. 

Since I have been here, poor Sydney Smith, his 
brother Bobus, and the old friend of the latter. Miss 
Fox, have all died within a fortnight. Two most 
satisfactory articles appeared in The Morning Chronicle 
on the two brothers, which I hope we shall be able to 
get. Poor Bobus ! for his own sake he could not be 
lamented, lame and blind as he was ; nor could Sydney, 
ill as he was ; but they have left a void in private and 
public life which can never be filled. . . . 

I have been reading some very amusing books 
during my illness, amongst others " Eothen, or, Travels 
in the East," by a wild sort of enthusiastic man who 
goes determined never to write what he ought to have 
felt on such and such a spot, but what he did feel ; 
consequently his account is wholly unlike most books 
on Palestine. He says it is impossible to retain any 
of the orthodox feelings when you have stayed long 
enough to become " a man about town in Jerusalem." 

La Motte Fouque's " Sintram " is a wild German 
story : not so good as " Undine," but interesting. The 
life of Miss Edgeworth's father, begun by himself and 
finished by her, is very interesting. I did not know 
before how completely they were partners in all their 
works, nor how many of her most striking incidents 
were supplied from her father's own life and actions. 

Miss Kigby's " Letters from the Baltic " are amusing 
also ; and these, with some novels, are, I think, pretty 
nearly all I have read, except nearly three quarters of 
Schiller's " Thirty Years' War," " The Inferno," and 
part of" The Purgatorio " of Dante, and half the first 
and all the second volume of the " Conquista di 


Mexico." All these wider studies, at least the Ger- 
man and Spanish, have lately come to a standstill, as I 
have been too ill to attend to them. 

June 9. — Since this was written I have been flitting 
about, most happy to escape incommoding them in 
Chesterfield Street. About Whitsuntide 1 went to 
Munden, and, of course, enjoyed it beyond every- 
thing in spite of pains and aches. Then I passed a 
fortnight at Dr. Holland's in Brook Street, where they 
were all kindness, and he doctored me in no small 
degree. Last Tuesday country air was again recom- 
mended, and here I am at Ember Court, which seems 
to agree very well with me. . . . 

My sister died in August 1845 at the same age 
(nineteen) as Brand. Her death was a great loss to 
me ; we had done everything together, and now that 
the two boys, Frank and Harry, were gone to school, 
and my father did not need me as he had done 
formerly, I felt very forlorn. However, this did not 
last very long, as my Granny made a great effort on 
my behalf, and tore herself away from the Hoo and 
Lord Dacre in order to give me complete change of 
thought and interest, taking me on a tour of visits 
to Wortley, Worsley, Lambton, Kirkley, Howick, of 
which visit the result was my marriage next summer, 
though we did not at the time foresee it. 


Notes by Lady Grey, with Accounts of her Marriage — Life at Howick 
Grange — Queen's Visit to Howick — Lady Dacre to Mrs. Grey — 
Lady Dufferin, Lord Dufferin, Miss Joanna Baillie, and Mrs. 
Norton to Lady Dacre — Lady Dacre to Mrs. Grey — Sir E. 
Bulwer Lytton to Lady Dacre — Lady Dacre to Mrs. Grey — 
Death of Lord Dacre— Lady Dacre to her Grandson Frank and 
to Mrs. Grey. 

After my marriage on July 20, 1846, we went to live 
in Northumberland. My husband, Frederick William 
Grey, the third son of the 2nd Earl Grey, had served 
his time as Post-Captain in the Navy, and there being 
nothing particular to be done professionally, he 
undertook the management of his brother's property^ 
devoted himself to the study of farming, made 
acquaintance with the working of coal-pits, and with 
the duties of a magistrate and country gentleman. 

We had a delightful little house, Howick Grange, 
close to Howick, and there we lived very happily for 
some years, going to Hertfordshire and London, and 
visiting about in the neighbourhood, with occasional 
trips to Scotland, where we had many friends. Lord 
Grey was Secretary for the Colonies from 1846 to 1852, 
so that my husband had the local and general manage- 
ment of affairs in his own hands. He liked the work 
much ; he also got some shooting and hunting, and 
we took great delight in our garden. My Granny 
paid us a visit, which was a great pleasure, as did 
my father and Emily Sullivan. My brothers were 



with us for their winter hoHdays, and, when Lord Grey 
was at Howick, we saw many people of note as well 
as relations. 

My husband and I did everything together. We 
had our classes at the Sunday school, and I went 
about among the people in the very small village, 
all the houses in which belonged to Lord Grey. His 
father had been one of the first landlords to improve 
his cottages, and his brother carried on the work 
over the property generally, so that one became very 
familiar with discussions respecting farm-buildings 
and cottages. A good deal of draining was under- 
taken too, and I think my husband's time was 
thoroughly well spent. Whatever he did he did 
with his might, so that he became quite an authority 
on all agricultural matters — deep ploughing, mowing 
machines, artificial manures, fattening cattle. One 
heard much on all these points, and I was interested 
in them and familiar with all such topics. 

One of the farms at Chevington was in Lord Grey's 
own hands, and had to be very closely looked after. 
A very large one at Learmouth was also unlet for 
some time, and we enjoyed immensely living in the 
farmhouse in order to look after the farm. Things 
had not become so serious then as they were after- 
wards, and an unlet farm was scarcely more than 
an amusing incident. 

Lady Dacrc to the Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

The Hod, 
Thursday evening, 9 d'cioc/:, 1846. 

. . . Susan on her return (from Tcwin, 1 fancy) 
brought mc at seven o'clock your letter, my darlint (of 
Monday). I understand and approve all your little 
transmogrifications of the furniture, and hope Pup 
and Emily were struck all of a heap with the drawing- 


room. 1 die for their impressions — shall get them 
Sunday, and must suer sang ct can till then. It was 
such an agreeable surprise, this same letter, that I am 
rather drunk with it. I am come out of the dining- 
room, leaving Grandpapa with Honeywood, who it 
seems was not invited, and is without Tom, like 
Phyllis without Susan.^ 1 set forth as soon as the 
rain ceased to village ; took a long breath and entered 
the school— ye powers ! the closeness and the smell ! — 
pretended to hear the reading, and gave a few direc- 
tions concerning commas and other stops on account 
(pretence) of my ears. Examined work with spec- 
tacles on nose, and a critical air thrown over my whole 
person ; then the writing in every copybook, and every 
line of every copy, had a large sum in addition done 
(imagine my fright lest I should have to cast it up); 
heard two psalms recited over and over again by a 
number of girls ; and with honest and well-deserved 
eulogiums sailed out with an air, smiling and nodding 
right and left. That best of creatures, Sarah Tomline, 
followed me into the lane with tears in her eyes and 
bivcring- muscles about the mouth, and said very 
touching things about you and Pup, and dear good 
Emily's having taken to the school lately, etc., etc., 
etc. ; and I felt fully repaid for my non-hearance and 
strong smellance. 

Their w^ork is super-excellent, their writing ditto, 
their summing more than ditto — being so much above 
my cut — and their reading about as good as most 
clergymen's! Hurried, monotonous, without emphasis, 
and wholly inaudible to ears like mine. Being worked 
up to good deeds, I repaired to Mrs. Chauncey's, where 
these same poor ears were fairly torn off my head, and 
are left on her floor for aught I know to the contrary. 

' My grandmother had paid us her first visit at Howick Grange, 
and my father and Airs. SuHivan (Emily) were with us when this 
letter was written. Susan is Mrs. Brand, afterwards Lady Dacre. 
Mr. Honeywood was a great friend of Tom's (Mr. Brand) and hers, 
a very quiet, gentle clergyman, devoted to Tom, as was the favourite 
dog Phyllis to Mrs. Brand (Susan). Mrs. Chauncey was the wife of 
the curate, an excellent woman with an excruciating voice, who had 
lately lost a very handsome daughter from consumption. My grand- 
mother had become very deaf. Uawson was the head gardener at 
the Hoo. 

* My mother's word. 


She gave me what ought to have been a most touching 
account of her sorrows ever since Harriet's death, but 
it touched me no more than the screeching which takes 
place as you enter the tunnels of the railroad till long 
after I got home, and had time to demeler the sorrows 
from the tissue of sounds in which they were 

I then went to the garden and gave " Williams's 
Family Sermons," with a few words of good wishes, etc., 
on the title page, to Dawson for Tom Dawson, as a 
thing likely to give him a lift in his outset at Pan- 
shanger. And now, good-bye, for here are my two 
men ; nothing more to-night. . . . 

Lady Dacre to the Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

The Hog, 
Monday, 1846. 

What a happy old woman I am ! Four such delicious 
letters from you all — Pup, Emily, Lady Grey, and you ! 
A day, too, that one always considers a blank — all four 
as welcome and as different, though the same, as 
possible. I have discovered that 300 miles is the pre- 
cise distance to put between oneself and those one 
loves best ; and then, again, one's intercourse on paper 
is free from hey-ing and what-ing ! A great gain ! 
And so one gets more said, replied to, and rejoindered 
to than one gets through side by side. My own Fred's 
is so comfortable, Emily's is so gratifying. Lady Grey's 
so pleasant and affectionate, my Barb's— 1 say nothing — 
but this 1 will say, so darling! What heaps of Greys 
at Howick ! its walls, capacious as they are, must bulge 
out. 1 am very glad about your piece of news,' but 
will hold my tongue till it is officially promulgated. 
I can't write answers to all my four letters, but having 
no secrets this must be common property. 

Tom and Susan off to Gl3'ndc before daybreak. Now 
I must scold you. Do not work like a horse at your 
garden ; 10m ily assures me that you have taken to a 
wheel-barrow: that will give you cold. Pray be reason- 
able, and neither dig like a nigger nor sit in a wheel- 
barrow till your blood \^ figc in your veins. Moreover, 
wear me some of your pretty trousseau clothes for 
these fine peoj)lc at Howick. Tell I'^mily to write me 

' [Tlic cn;4a;.;cnu;nl bcluccn Lord Elgin and Lady Mary Lainljton.] 


word how you dress and look, for you won't do that 
yourself. Lady Grey is charming about her ceiling. 
How I should like to pop in amongst you all ! but 1 
would hasten back for my letters. Very glad the 
soldier's wife looks so pretty over your head ; you have 
no idea how improved the French room is by the 
cleaning and varnishing and new arrangement of the 
pictures. We live in the library. 

Tell Frederick his young clergyman gained great 
credit yesterday; he is writing a book (who is not?) 
and Grandpapa offered him the use of his library. 
We mean to ask a detachment of Ameses soon, and him 
to meet them. To-morrow se'nnight our Hibs — for two 
nights only, alas! Emily's Sarah has just been in to 
beg " to leave," because she and the other girl have 
been ordered to help wash the china, the scullery girl 
being nearly dead with hard work, while the three 
ladies in the house have three beds to make, and if a 
fourth is used are amply paid for it ! I burst out laugh- 
ing in her face, and told her she might go to-morrow 
morning. She changed her note, and said if I pleased 
she would " try and do it," as if 1 had asked her to 
plough a field with her own nails. 1 would not hear 
another word, but told her if she came to her senses in 
the course of the day, she might stay and " try," and 
sent her back to Mall to settle with her. I had rather 
she would leave, for I should like to take one of my 
own girls. 

Lady Dacrc to the Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

Chestrrfifxd Street, 
Thursday .^ 1846. 

I am very much obliged to you for having married 
Frederick, for nobody knows how much / profit by it, 
and one is all for self in this world. What a nice darling 
letter has been wandering in search of me for ages ! 
but here it is safe and sound, and yours hiding its 
diminished head. By the bye I want to humble you, 
for I owe you a grudge. Says my lord, two or three 
days ago, when he was over head and cars in Poor 
Law quagmires : " I wish Barby was here ; she would 
help me." Says I humbly : " Can't 1 be of any use ? " 
" Oh no," rejoined he, " she would write all these out 
clearly for me." " I can write legibly, if I try," quoth L 


" But she would understand what I mean when I am 
unintelligible," rejoined he. " Let me try at least," says 
I, half proud of the just estimate of your powers, and 
half mortified at his equally just estimate of the decay 
of mine. He consented, and I have done it, and binder- 
stood it, and took here and there a liberty with his 
wording, and am upon my great horse this morning, 
and 'who but I?'" 

Poor dear man, he is better than he was, and hoping 
to get to a Railway Committee by and bye, though he 
has had a very bad night. He walks up with your 
slippers on, fitting beautifully, easy and comfortable 
in the extreme, and lovely to behold. He bids me tell 
you all this. . . . 

Lady Dufferin to Lady Dacre 

Friday, Jime 9, 1848 (?) 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

I am ashamed for having made you ask so many 
times for anything ! and more especially for something 
so little worth your trouble. I have had so many 
*' letters on business " to write lately, that my head was 
too addled to remember these lines correctly, and 1 
have mislaid the copy my boy left mc. They were 
written to him on his twenty-first birthday (nearly a year 
ago), to chaperon a pretty silver lamp with the words 
" Fiat lux " engraved on it. That is their history and 
here they are : 

How shall I bless thee? Human love 

Is all too poor in passionate words ; 
The heart aches with the sense above 

All language that the lip affords : 
Therefore a symbol should express 

My love — a thing not rare or strange ; 
But yet— eternal, measureless — 

Knowing no shadow and no change — 
Light! which of all the lovely shows 

'I'o our poor world of shadows given, 
The fervent prophet-voices chose 

Alone as attribute of Heaven ! 

At a most Sf)lemn |)aiise we stand ; 
From this day lorth, for evermore, 


The weak but loving human hand 

Must cease to guide thee as of yore. 
Then, as thro' Ufe thy footsteps stray, 

And earthly beacons dimly shine, 
" Let there be light " upon thy way. 

And holier guidance far than mine! 
" Let there be light " in thy clear soul, 

When passion tempts and doubts assail ; 
When griefs dark tempests o'er thee roll, 

•* Let there be light " that shall not fail ! 

So, angel-guarded, mays't thou tread 

The narrow path which few may find, 
And at the end look back, nor dread 

To count the vanished years behind ! 
And pray that she, whose hand doth trace 

This heart-warm prayer — when life is past — 
May see and know thy blessed face 

In God's own glorious light at last ! 

Yours affectionately, 


Lady Diifferin to Lady Dacrc 

Clandeboye, Holywood, 
October i8, 1848. 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

My heart is (as Mrs. Fry calls it) tendered and 
humbled by your doing my verses so much honour ! 
I feel that they are so unworthy of all that your kind 
partiality prompts you to say in their favour. Pray 
give them to anybody you like, and believe that I am 
only too proud and happy in thinking that they give 
pleasure to any friend of yours. 

1 wish much to know more of Mrs. Hibbert ; 1 loved 
and admired her father so much, and have a great 
affection for her sister, Mrs. Holland. Your letter 
followed me to Ireland (as you see), where we have 
got a large family party staying. My mother, Georgy 
Seymour, her husband and five children, not to 
mention divers cousins ; and my Aunt Graham of 

' [Given in Lord Dufferin's arrangement of her " Songs, Poems, and 



Netherby, and all her belongings are to join us very- 

We had intended to give a long-projected dinner to 
the tenantry, but my poor boy, in his anxiety to 
prepare himself for discussions on the question of the 
day — " Tenant-right " — has over-worked himself, and 
given me much anxiety lately by a severe attack of 
illness. However, Sir Philip Crampton, whom I sent 
for, assures me that rest and amusement will soon set 
him all right again ; so we mean to dance instead of 
studying Adam Smith and McCuUoch ! 

You say nothing about your own health or Lord 
Dacre's, which we take rather unkindly, but we are 
placable enough to hope that " no news is good news " ! 
My mother desires to be most affectionately remem- 
bered to you, and 1 beg you to believe me, 
Most gratefully and affectionately yours, 

Helen Dufferin. 

Lord Dufferin to Lady Dacre 

1848 (?). 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

Many thanks for your kind letter, which was as 
wise as it is kind. I am glad 3^ou like the verses, and, 
as well as I can, 1 will follow your advice. I do, indeed, 
hope that what I may do to increase my own happiness 
may also be an addition to my mother's comfort, and I 
think I can conscientiously say that suitableness to 
her is one of the qualities I always first look out for. 

But it is a matter, I fear, of great chance, or rather, 
if it be not wrong to say so, more under God's provi- 
dence than one's own control. I think, however, that 
I have passed through the most dangerous epoch ; 
that is to say, 1 have learnt to look at pretty faces 
without immediately tumbling in love with them. 
Believe me, dear lady. 

Yours very trul}'^, 


P.S. — 1 must ask you to send mc buck the verses 
when you have quite done with them, as they are in 
my mother's own handwriting, and I keep all her 
letters and verses. 


Miss Joanna Baillic to Lady Dacre 

July 14, 1847. 

My dear Lady Dacre, — 

You have been very indulgent to us indeed. 
Lady Dufferin's verses to her son, witli tlie lamp, are 
beautiful and tender, and raise the mind above this 
world, as a good mother would desire her son to direct 
his thoughts. Many, many thanks for permitting me 
to take one copy of them for ourselves ! But that I 
will not do, lest in some moment of stupid forgetfulness 
I should infringe the conditions. Had Dr. Channing — 
that excellent, pure and refined being, been still among 
the dwellers in this lower world — 1 should have begged 
leave to take a copy for him, and should have sent it 
to America : he would have prized it much. As it is, 
I dare not possess it, and though I have a wretched 
memory, I shall not forget the thoughts, though I may 
forget the exact words that express them. 

I hope to see Lady Byron soon, and she will be very 
happy to hear that her son-in-law has made a favour- 
able impression on Lord Dacre. Such an acquaintance 
or friend may be of great use to Lord L.,^ who, I 
believe, is most heartily disposed to do everything 
that is reasonable and useful in the situation in 
which Providence has placed him. My sister sends 
her kind regards and thanks ; we are both better for 
the thunder having cleared the air last night. I hope 
that the warm drive to Hampstead did your ladyship 
no harm. 

Always affectionately yours, 

J. Baillie. 

The Hon. Mrs. Norton to Lady Dacre 

BowooD Park, 
January 12, 184S. 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

I was sincerely pleased to get your kind letter 
about Lord Dufferin, and I have taken the liberty of 
sending it on to the young landlord himself, to 
encourage him in well doing. 1 think and believe 
my sister has every reason to be proud of him, and 

' [William King Noel, created Earl of Lovelace in 1838.] 

244 MACAULAY'S "LAYS" [1848 

he adds to his long hst of merits that of being a 
very devoted son. He is not in Parliament, but it 
is as well, perhaps, just now, that some of the Irish 
landlords should be spectators, not actors in that 

My eldest son (about whom you so kindly inquire) 
is gone as attache to Sir H. Seymour at Lisbon. His 
health required a warmer climate than this, and I 
consider myself fortunate in combining that much 
desired change with employment in a profession. I 
have every expectation that the Seymours will be kind 
to him from what I remember of them both, and I have 
no regret, except the very natural one of parting from 
the gentlest-hearted creature that ever made a mother 
happy. I do not think 1 ever saw anger or unkind- 
ness in his eye, much less exchanged a hard word with 
him in his life ! The other boy, I3rinsley, is with me 
here, greatly excited by the actually living presence 
of the author of " Lays of Rome " ! I think that if 
Macaulay wished an estate bought for him by schoolboy 
subscription, he would stand a better chance than 
Mr. Buncombe did for success. 

I do not recollect if I gave you a book, I certainly 
intended io send, on the subject of the Infant Custody 
Bill, and the letters that passed between Mr. Norton 
and me, before I appealed to the Chancellor about these 
boys of mine, which were printed for the appeal ? 
They might have some interest for you, for the general 
cause of motherhood. 

I hope Mrs. Butler' prospers ; I hear she will be in 
London for a while. 1 never for an instant thought 
"Jane Eyre" likely to be hers, nor, except the power and 
talent shown in it, is there any apparent reason people 
should give it to her. It is a very remarkable book, 
whoever wrote it, and one which made a deep im- 
pression on me. So has lY^nnyson's new poem 
"The Princess," though I object to his being playful 
in that magnificent and magniloquent blank verse. 
" The Lament " of Psyche for Aglaia made my heart 

Adieu, dear Lady Dacre. I must ask you to forgive 
this very hurried note, as the outfitting and fare- 
welling which has occupied me lately in London have 
left a great arrear of letters to be answered, and 
' [Fanny Keniblc] 


business looked through ! With kind remembrances 
to Lord Dacre, 

Believe me, yours very truly, 

Caroline Norton. 

You never saw a dearer, brighter, more intelligent 
child than Lord Lansdowne's little grandson, Lord 
Clanmaurice.^ I looked at him among these intellectual 
people to-day, and travelled years on in my fancy to 
make him as celebrated as any amongst them. He 
really is a very remarkable baby (for he is but two and 
a half), and I hope he will not, as Byron says of lanthe, 
" unbeseem the promise of his spring." 

The lion. Mrs. Norton to Lady Dacre 

Friday (1848). 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

I meant the volume for you, as you were kind 
enough to interest yourself in its contents. My boys 
are passed the age wher^ any interference could be 
possible, and have always spent their holidays by 
choice, the eldest has resided, with me — his health 
having given more than holidays this last two years. 
But I do not think, after Mr. Norton was obliged to 
succumb, that he had any inclination to interfere ; it was 
to punish me, not to have them with liun, that was his 
object. They never were with liiui ; they lived with 
his sister, my mother-in-law, out of kindness to me 
and on my appeal, refusing to countenance his 
measures by taking charge of them. 1 have lived to 
see Lady Menzies, who fiercely stepped in to do what 
my gentle mother-in-law would not — at law, and not 
no speaking terms with her own son. 

I will not say anything against your amusing hints 
of " stable pride." I am a woman — not an angel, as 
Leigh Hunt says — but I can say (by way of flattery to 
my conscience) that 1 have never quarrelled except v^\\.\\ 
my husband, and that he has quarrelled in turn with 
every relation and friend he has in the world ; adding 
to that the balm, that my husband's mother stood by 
me to the last, and that the last words my boys ever 
heard from her were in defence and praise of me, 
and a hope of what she called justice being done me 
some day. 

' [The present Lord Lansdowne.] 


I am ill one day, and a little better the next, and 
very lazy and languid, or I would have sooner 
answered your note and its questions. Certainly, if 
the love of one's children's could blot out (or dazzle out) 
the memory of wrong and disgrace, there is love deep 
and fervent enough shown me by mine. I have been 
an unhappy wife, but as mother, I do not know what I 
would change, or who I could envy, not even the 
father of that lost Ossory, whose epitaph of glory was 
his father's lamenting speech. 

The French news is indeed absorbing. The 
Montebellos are to live with my sister, Lady Dufferin, 
till we see what the stormy sea subsides to. To-day 
they say Louis Philippe has landed in England, but 
his own friends think he is hiding in France, waiting 
the turn of events. I cannot believe with so many 
young princes — such a "quiverful of arrows" — that 
nothing more will be said to the enemy at the gate. 
Believe me, dear Lady Dacre, 

Yours very truly, 

Caroline Norton. 

The Hon. Mrs. Norton to Lady Dacre 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

I return the printed notice, and Mrs. Butler's 
sensible, resolute letter, with many thanks. Earnestly 
do I hope that she may be able in a few years to 
secure such an independence as may enable her, com- 
fortably and at leisure, to enjoy the society of the 
friends her genius will gather round her. Meanwhile, 
perhaps, a life of exertion, of excitement, is better for 
her than the frozen stillness of a woman's lot without 
woman's natural and nearest ties. So warm and 
vehement a disposition could not be calm., though it 
might sink to torpor, like the stage of mortification in 
some diseases. I think with 2i fierce pity of her position 
with her children; but years may do for her, what they 
did for me, with that portion of a broken destiny! 
Well I remember the wild, desolate days and nights 
I passed, for three years and more, and how young 
mine were, much younger than hers — the eldest only 
six — and when 1 think of the pains that were taken to 
alienate them, and to prevent my even hearing of them, 

From a lyy Lady Dacn 

To face p. 246. 

1848] SANT'S PICTURES 247 

and see how vain it all was, how they love and cling 
to me, it gives me a trust in the power of motherhood 
which should stand good as a prophecy for her. 

I have no doubt, in spite of the great coldness 
towards theatrical amusements in England, from the 
fashion of seeing vaudevilles instead of tragedies in one 
class, the spread of strict religious opinions in another, 
and the imitativeness of a third, that she will find 
audiences glad to welcome her wherever she goes. 
My hearty good wishes go with her ; she deserved 
a better fate than to begin the morning labours of 
life all over again, without the hopefulness and 
inexperience which make the hardest labours easy 
in youth. 

Among the pictures at the British Institution (a 
very bad set) are two — I think by Sant— of " Morning " 
and "Evening": did you see them? The young, 
glad pilgrim on the hill looking up and listening to 
the lark, and the fellow-picture of age ? The thought 
that lays smeared over the canvas struck me too much 
to criticise the execution, which I have seen found 
fault with in the papers. 

My toothless son rejoices in having seen you — "the 
lady who did Phaeton's horses ! " He is a very eager 
little gentleman, and remained, apparently contem- 
plating your shadow in the chair you had vacated, for 
some minutes after the discovery. Adieu! This is 
not a note, but a long talk through a party wall ! ^ 

Yours very truly, 

C. Norton. 

Poor Mrs. Vernon! I saw her boy's death in the 
paper to-day ; I have thought of her incessantly. 

The Hon. Mrs. Norton to Lady Dacre 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

I am so much obliged to you for your kind note. 
I hope and believe my unlucky boy will be able to 
come here \ if so, I expect him the first week in July 
at latest. If he is too weak to go further than Cintra, 
I shall join him there ; and in any case I shall winter 
with him in Lisbon, as he seems low and dull, and it 
is maddening to know him ill at a distance. 

^ [Mrs. Norton was living in Chesterfield Street, next door to Lady 
Dacre. J 


Helen's verses are beautiful, and I am glad she gave 
them to 3^ou, who would appreciate them both for the 
poetry and the feeling. 

I saw a beautiful drawing of Mrs. Grey^ at Dickin- 
son's, Bond Street, which I recognised immediately, 
and which Lord Lansdowne, who was with me, 
admired very much. 

I have been, and am, very busy with the somewhat 
tiresome task of " The Scrap Book." Thirty-six prints 
to be married to an equal number of copies of verses is 
a task which ought to admit of the employment of 
curates and deputies, but 1 do not find many willing 
to do duty. I hope you returned well and strong 
from the Hoo. Lord Melbourne has gone to Brocket, 
attended by that most strange but active hospital 
nurse. He is altering very much, I think, and she 
snaps now and then as you do to a troublesome child ; 
but for the most part is very serviceable. 

Believe me, yours very truly, 

C. Norton. 

The Hon. Mrs. Norton to Lady Dacre 

Dear Lady Dacre, — 

" Oysters and Flowers " you shall have the first 
"copying" moment. I have been night and day 
occupied with my little sister-in-law, Mrs. Phipps 
(formerly Mrs. C. Norton), who has been pre- 
maturely confined with a dead son, and, though doing 
well now and taking all the forlorn suffering with very 
cheerful patience, has left mc with no time for the 
poetry of life to battle with its prose. 

I abjure all other poems than those I bring you, 
though I don't abjure them with troublesome earnest- 
ness, because, when people are determined not to 
believe, it is better to let them remain in the clover 
of their own suppositions and not put them on 
the low diet of truth, which brings on spasms and 
contradictions. When I don't write under my own 
name, I sign " P.S." or " Pearce Stevenson," in 
memory of a pamphlet and the Infant Custody Bill, 
which, if 1 never sent you, I will send now, and 

» [The Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey.] 


show you that Fanny Butler's history is not without 
a parallel. 

Yours very truly, 

C. Norton. 


With coral lips and azure eyes, 

And rose-leaf cheek and golden hair. 

And nymph-like shape — how could we dream 
What made that lady's daily fare ? 

It seems a fable, only fit 
To tell to single nuns in cloisters ; 

But I declare, by all that's good, 
The lovely lady's food was — Oysters! 

I swear it, by the Powers Divine, 

By Venus and the rival Graces, 
By Cupid, with his roguish wiles. 

His coaxing smile and soft embraces. 

I sazv the Oysters ! in their shells 
The little shapeless monsters lay — 

Flabby, and cold, and colourless — 
Before a creature bright as May. 

And still she stooped her radiant head 
(While all amazed I watched and feared), 

And every time the head was raised 
An Oyster more had disappeared ! 

" Oh, coral mouth ! " I whispered low, 
" Can this be done to humour thee ? 

Because some coral wreath hath been 
Some Oyster's neighbour in the sea? 

" Or, floating hair, whose threads of gold 
Lie gleaming on that neck so white. 

Is it to prove the Pinna's shell 

Hath silken tresses not so bright?" 


Then Amy smiled; the coral door 
That prisoned in her even teeth 

Unlocked, and gently stood ajar 
And showed the pearly gems beneath 


Ah ! then the reason of those meals 
My dull soul comprehended well ; 

That little mouth — on Oysters fed — 
Had stolen a pearl from every shell. 

C. Norton, 1847. 


In the year 1849 there was a great outbreak of 
cholera, and Alnwick and Newcastle were sorely 
smitten. The Queen was then in Scotland, and 
Lord Grey the Minister in attendance on her, Lady 
Grey being alone at Howick. One morning came 
the news that the cholera having appeared close to 
the place at which Her Majesty was to have passed the 
night on her way back to Windsor, Lord Grey had 
put his house at her disposal, and that the Queen, 
the Prince, and the Royal children would arrive (I 
think it was) that very evening at 9 o'clock ! You 
may imagine the bustle of preparation! For one 
thing, Her Majesty could not eat mutton, so a mes- 
senger was despatched to Newcastle in hot haste for 
beef! General Grey ^ had ridden over from Coupland 
Castle, where he was living then, and was of course 
pressed into the service. Luckily the house at Howick 
was easily got ready and made comfortable : there was 
no time for thinking about appearances or anything 
but comfort, and that was always on the spot. 

It was a dark night, and men with torches were 
posted on the road and down the new (as it was then) 
approach from Little Mill Station. Carriages were 
sent to meet the train, and I think the two brothers, 
Charles and Frederick, were waiting on horseback. 
It was about half-past nine when they arrived, if I 
remember rightly, and the Queen could not dress for 
dinner as her " things " had not arrived, the baggage 

' [Ch.-irlcs, the second son of the 2nd Earl Grey, afterwards Private 
Secretary to H.M. (^ueen Victoria.] 


on the carriages having been piled so high that they 
would not pass under the railway bridges. All this 
helped to make the affair less formal, and nothing 
could go off better. 

I was told to show the Royal children their quarters, 
and having no responsibilities was greatly amused and 
interested. The Queen was naturally not desirous of 
sitting up very late, so after a little general talk she 
retired to her apartment. While we were standing 
round before this, I perceived that Her Majesty was 
endeavouring to find out from Lady Grey whether 
my grandmother was still living. I could hear what 
she said, but Lady Grey, who was not the least deaf 
but somewhat nervous, could not catch the whisper 
at first. I longed to say, " All right, your Majesty," 
but of course had to look unconscious. At length, 
however, the difficulty was got over, and the Queen 
most graciously addressed me and asked after Lady 
Dacre's health. It is wonderful how good Royal 
memories are, and her having remembered that I was 
Lady Dacre's granddaughter. When the Queen first 
came to the throne, Lady Dacre had, at a private 
interview with which she was honoured, presented to 
Her Majesty a copy of her " Translations," including 
a '* Sonnet to the Queen," which will be found with 
her other works. 

Charles Grey came back to sleep at the Grange, and 
we had great amusement about providing him with 
necessary articles of the toilet, as he had ridden over 
from Coupland meaning to go back, and had only 
been made presentable at dinner by borrowing a pair 
of black trousers belonging to David Moffatt, the 
gamekeeper — nobody else having the necessary length 
of limb! 

Next morning we were all over early at the Hall, 


the Queen planted a tree, was driven in a pony car- 
riage with the little postillion down the Long Walk 
and along the Sea Walk, and then we all attended 
the Royal party to Newcastle, where the crowd was 

Lady Dacre to the Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

The Hog, 

Saturday, and no post, but nonsense ready for 
to-morrow shall flow in copious streams. Excellent 
report of my sister,^ though still in bed, from which 
she writes more funnily than could be told ; looks 
forward to our being together in a fortnight, " making 
signs " for conversation, and begs we may guard 
against rages, for the deaf are always enraged ivith the 
deaf, " unless they keep strict watch and ward," and 
quantities more which made me laugh, it was so 
characteristic ! 

I find I can't write upon small paper — it cramps my 
genius. You do write beautifully of late, and your 
dots submit to a degree of discipline, but 1 don't like 
paper at all carded, which yours is. I burnt a number 
of your letters yesterday with infinite regret, my blessed 
bcastie, and am answering passages in them now. 

Yes, Manzoni's " Cinque Maggio " is a famous ode, 
difficult to render in any other language : an almost 
impossibility, it is so short and compact. I have it if 
I knew where to kiy my hand on it. If you accom- 
plish ever so small a bit of it, you do wonders. Do 
send me your attempt. Easier to render all *' excursive 
Ariosto," I can tell you. If I had years and were 
with you when Fred takes his fiights, we might yet 
have a bit of fun in t])is way ; but siiirt-cohars more 
praiseworthy, I own. 

Oh, my laburnum! If Jupiter came down in such 
a shower of gold as that, who shall say that black was 
the white of Danae's eye? The lilac dare not say its 
soul is its own in its presence. My garden going to 
be lovely — a violent thunderstorm in the night has 

' [The Hon. Mrs. Richard Talbot, Lady Dacrc's eldest sister, also 
very deaf.] 


refreshed everything till, "ye powers!" I need not 
say I am amazingly well ; my lord's arm, forsooth ! if 
he had as many as Briareiis, 1 should not want one of 
them. I walk better than before my illness, totter less, 
and the backs of my legs do not ache — not that I have 
tried them more than toddling in and out, and about 
the garden, but they do feel better. Appetite delicate 
and small, but 1 thrive upon my food, 1 assure you. 
My good man is much, much better, and so much more 
cheerful and busy ; it does me more good to see him 
than ail the pills and potions you allude to. Dear Pup 
dined with us yesterday ; Emily went to dine with an 
uncle and Lionel. B037S are catching a fish for my 
dinner. Pony excellent — not a Kate ; what is, was, 
or ever will be ? 

Yes, 1 read "Wilhclm Meister " in days of yore: 
found, as in everything from the German, much to 
admire and much absurd — such is my impression. I 
read at that time all manner of things from the German, 
lent by old Sotheby and old Glenbervie. 1 have a 
recollection of Schlegel about Shakespeare, enthu- 
siastic, just, and beautiful, but weakening his own 
testimony by the same unqualified admiration of the 
most miserable play upon words, and lowest, coarsest 
smut ; all excellent, 1 daresay, for its purpose with 
the lowest order of people of his da}'', as hog-wash 
is good for hogs. My recollections are about thirty 
years' old, I reckon. Enter boys in full health and 
good plight, burnt to bistre colour by the sun. 
Harry much improved — an immense fellow: will be 
a Higgins, I verily believe ; and young Randolph with 

What should I stumble upon yesterday but a little 
book old Glenbervie gave me — a very neat, clever, 
elegant essay on the Italian romantic poets, prefacing 
a mediocre translation of his own of the first canto of 
Fortiguerra's " Ricciardetto." The essay pleases me 
exceedingly — quite a windfall ; 1 had entirely forgotten 
it. . . . 

Lady Dacre to flic I Ion. Mrs. Fvcdcrick Grey 

October I, 1S49. 
Your letter, my blessed beastie, has given incon- 
ceivable pleasure to me, and a vast quantity besides to 


la belle mere and Georgiana. They have others from 
Lady Grey and Caroline Grey (3^ours the pearl, how- 
ever) ; but, my dear love, for heaven's sake ! in pity to 
me ! don't go near Alnwick for fear of cholera. I don't 
like even my letters going to Alnwick. I wish you 
would fumigate them before you open them. These 
terrible wet nights ! the whole earth is soaked— one 
mosh — it is so unfavourable ! I no longer groan about 
your harvest ; that must be gone to the dogs, or rather 
dunghills. I am grown the rankest of cowards, having 
been the boldest of lionesses in my youth. A letter of 
mine must be lost, rejoicing in Frank's, but with fears 
not precisely of sharks, but possible cramp, no boat at 
hand, etc., etc. With respect to his mind, his spirit, 
and almost entirely his health, I was made quite happy 
and hopeful and thankful. But these last days of my 
poor dear Hub's annoyance and consequent backslid- 
ing health have banished even Franky a little from 
my mind. This, however, is a good day hitherto, in 
consequence of a much better night. Your father has 
been here, and I have given him your letter to take to 
Munden and send on to Harry, and it is to come back 
to me for my further solace. 

How nice of the Queen to breakfast with her 
children, walk out first with the Prince of Wales,^ go 
down the Long Walk, Sea Walk, and all ! She did not 
lose a moment, methinks, in which she could do any- 
thing kind and gratifying to her host and hostess ; I 
am ridiculously fond of her. Is it that I am a courtier 
at heart, I wonder ? Oh no ! I vow ! — it is a poetical 
fondness, more tending sonnetwards, than courtsey- 
wards. I am glad you told her I was eight^'-two — you 
might have said in my eighty-third year, which would 
have sounded still older, and would have still better 
excused my deficiency in the courtsey line. Very 
pretty in her to have remembered such an old 
toad was in existence ! How peculiarly beautiful the 
approach through the wood with lamps and torches 
must have been ! And the Newcastle thing too, too, 
too fine, looking down upon the full-dressed ships. I 
have cried plentifully over everything, and, as admira- 
tion is a strong feeling with me, that had its share. 
The children being nice children, just like any other 

' [A mistake I think for the Prince Consort. This letter alludes to 
the koyal visit to Howick.] 


nice children ! The little bit of Royalty very funny.^ 
How I should have liked the whole thing when I was 
younger ! I fancy 1 liked excitement, which playgoers 
generally do. I wish the Queen had seen the church 
and monument, but she did wonders in the time. Lady 
Grey and Georgiana went away before one o'clock ; it 
is now raining torrents. . . . Why should you not 
wear Camphor? do, my dear; pray, do. . . . And now, 
dear love, take care of your precious self and delightful 
Hub, and compose camphor bags. 

Your lovingest 


Lady Dacrc to the Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

IVedfiesduy, the 22nd, 1850. 

... I am glad you are foregathering with Bobus's 
early friend, your bishop. They were competitors in 
Greek at Cambridge, and have been firm friends ever 
since, and are still ; for it is not wrong to believe such 
friendships last if lue last. If certain attachments were 
cast out of us, we should not be us, methinks. Though 
talking of Greek I may mention Italian, for Bobus 
said to me one day that Italian came next to Greek 
among languages. " Conobbi allor siccome in Paradiso 
vede I'un T'altro," which that blessed Bobus thought 
1 had well rendered thus : " Then knew I how the 
spirits of the blessed Communion hold in heaven." I 
quote from memory botJi. This is my very last scrap 
of memory though, for it is clean gone now. I was 
burning old letters, and came upon some of the noble 
Bobus's, where he spoke so affectionately of his " two 
young friends." One ^ may now have some of this sort 

' This was the remark made, I think, by Prince Alfred, quite a little 
fellow then, when I took the children to their rooms and he did not 
find all his own property : " But I expect to find things ready when I 
come." We all went to Newcastle next day with the Royal party, and 
saw the reception spoken of in the letter, and the address being 
presented on the High, then newly completed. We all got out of 
the train, and were standing among the crowd when it finally went on, 
and I remember the Queen's smile of amusement as she looked out of 
the carriage window and recognised her host and the rest of the party, 
jammed up and unable to move. 

- [Gertrude Arabella Sullivan.] 

256 Lady dacre's letters [1850 

of " communion " with him, for aught we know; I like 
to think it, don't you ? . . . 

fai le cceur gros about your fragment in blank verse 
on our noble Bobus. I wrote it out yesterday, and 
was so struck with its beauty that, for want of a more 
gifted audience, I e'en read it out to Lady Grey, and 
though I should not set much store by an opinion from 
that quarter, I do by an emotion, for a warmer, truer 
heart does not beat in any bosom I wot of ; and she 
was quite affected by it. Grandpapa came in and read 
it afresh, having so much relished it at the time, and 
thought it more beautiful than ever. There is one 
advantage in blank verse — when the thing is a real 
gush from the heart — that you let yourself go, and are 
not obliged to cook your thought for rhyme's sake ; 
otherwise, I am not for blank verse for a fragment. I 
would not have a syllable of this touched for the world. 
Bless your very bones and marrow, my chick. . . . 

Lady Dacre to the Hon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

2, Chesterfield Street, 

My precious ! I find I must scribble, because I am 
unusually stupid and " unked," and can do nothing. I 
saw Lady Grey (yours) a good bit yesterday (went 
early on purpose), and found her most agreeable and 
kind and like herself, and could not tear myself away. 
I feel as if I had the welfare of the nation on my 
hands ; and it is that the Primes are to dine here on 
Wednesday (my own doing, from a recollection of old 
times and unvaried affection on her part), and 7u/io to 
ask to meet them, and /lozv to get the few wlio would 
suit, and how to make a small tea afterwards, etc. Oh, 
dear! what a world of care and struggle lies before 
me till twelve o'clock on Wednesday night ! when 1 
shall say to ///;;/, " Well, it all did pretty well, didn't 
it ? " To-morrow he promises to go with me to see 
the House of Lords, and to Colnaghi's to see Sir 
Robert lY'd's fine portrait of the Duke of Wellington, 
by Lawrence, on the Field of Waterloo, from which 
an engiaving has been for some time in progress, and 
which Sir Robert Peel allows to be publicly exhibited 
for a few days before it goes home to him. It was 
j)ainted thirty years ago, and has his looks t/icii. 1 


knew him then, and was enthusiastic about him on his 
return from Waterloo ; blubbered quarts over him as 
he walked over Waterloo Bridge, with Lord Anglesey 
on his one leg, and all his officers. 1 sat by the side of 
his mother, a great Hampton Court ally of mine — oh, 
how pretty her behaviour was! It was / who whis- 
pered to those around who that innocent little, quiet 
old lady was ! I am blubbering a bit now ! It was 
a day to remember, if any earthly joy is worth 
remembering. The bridge was opened and christened 
that day ; all the roofs of the houses for miles around 
were covered with scaffolding and seats, and apparently 
the whole population of London on them, breaking 
forth with one shout. The whole river human heads 
— not a drop of water to be seen, nor could a pin have 
been stuck between the boats. I wish you were with 
me to see the picture, but I had rather you had seen 
him cross Waterloo Bridge. ... Jc radoh\ to run 
on at this rate. . . . 

Sir Edward Bidwer Lyttoti to Lady Dacre 

November 21, 1850. 

How kind you are, my dear Lady Dacre! I cannot say 
how I thank you for your letter, nor how much I value 
it. You, whose theatricals at the Hoo live in the re- 
membrance of all who are fortunate enough to see them, 
know the anxiety and doubt that one has to the last — 
take all the pains one may — and in our case here, we had 
a very heavy play of old Ben's to float. But the actors 
entered into it with so much spirit, and the audience 
was so indulgent that, after all, very little was left for 
me to do, though very much gratitude to feel, to both. 

I think you will be pleased to hear that out of our 
reunion an idea has sprung forth that 1 hope will be 
of use to that literary brotherhood of which you must 
permit me to consider you akin — and the more so, 
as, to say nothing of your dramatic and lyrical contri- 
butions to English literature, you have rendered 
honours so graceful to the great Italian who was the 
first who ever asserted and vindicated the dignity of 
Letters. In a word, several others have been long 
anxious to form a kind of Provident Association for 
Authors, and to render them, by their own forethought, 



independent of that niggard and debasing kind of 
charity which they now receive from the State. And 
so, in aid of this, we have thought of pubhshing the 
notice simultaneously with the announcement of 
dramatic performances in the provinces next year, in 
which my illustrious stage-manager, Dickens, is to 
reassemble our present company of actors, and the 
performances to consist of a Farce by him, and a 
Comedy by myself. The proceeds, which we hope 
will be considerable, to go towards the foundation 
of an institution to which authors will subscribe for 
the purpose of securing the i-ight to pecuniary inde- 
pendence in their infirmity and old age. We have 
grand notions of building some houses for their 
reception, and I trust to secure the site in our county 
if I can find an acre or two of unentailed land to beg, 
borrow, or steal for the purpose. We are all full of it, 
and with that great, large heart of Dickens beating 
in the centre of our project, I have no doubt of the 
vitality of our success. I venture so much to believe 
that you will feel interested in the notion, that I will 
keep you au courant of all our movements. 

I have to thank you also, dear Lady Dacre, for add- 
ing so much to the ornament of the audience by the 
presence of the Miss Whitbreads ; I could not have 
lost one of them, and wish there had been fifty more. 
You write in spirits of our dear lord, w^hich I am 
cordially rejoiced to see ; I don't wonder that he 
interests himself in all that takes place in a county 
of which no transfer to the Lords can prevent his 
being still the representative; and " What will they say 
at the Hoo?" is a question still asked with an anxiety 
only less than ** How are they at the Hoo?" Once 
more, believe in the sincere gratitude of your lady- 
ship's attached and respectful friend and servant, 

E. BuLWER Lytton. 

1 send you the epilogue ; it hits too admirably, and 
was extremely well spoken. 

Sir E. Dithvcr Lytton to Lady Dacre 

Monday morning. 

I do feel for you from my heart, my dear Lady 
Dacre, and never felt more than now the inadequacy 


of all words to comfort a sufferer under one of the 
greatest sorrows of life. Poor Lord Dacre ! if sym- 
pathy and reverence could do him good, 1 wish he 
could but see the universal feeling that attends his 
illness. You must, however, live only for his sake ; 
strive and bear up against your severe and anxious 
trial, and I do hope and trust that your friends may 
long, very long yet, continue to awaken your interest 
in whatever can contribute to the welfare of the Arts 
and Letters you have equally ennobled. Few can 
support their sixty years as you do the eighty-four 
you so startlingly announce to me. The lamp of life 
IS not to be measured by the age of the vessel, but the 
supply to the light. 

I3ickens is, as you suppose, as large in his heart as 
he is in his genius ; 1 do not know a more thoroughly 
loveable man. He was very anxious that you should 
know of our scheme, and asked me thrice if 1 had 
written to you about it. Adieu, my dear and most 
revered Lady Dacre ; and may God support you 
through all your trials, and comfort you in all your 
sorrows. Happily for our human griefs. He has 
written legibly on every page of Nature, and over the 
gates of Death, the fact of His own provident existence ; 
and so associated His own existence with that univer- 
sal instinct of our hearts, which, better than the 
reasoning of any schoolman, assures us that there 
is something within us which does not grow old with 
our years, nor perish in our graves — that He has left 
none of our infirmities without one support — none of 
our sorrows without one comfort. 

Ever your affectionate and respectful 

Friend and servant 

E. B. Lytton. 

Lady Dacre to the tlon. Mrs. Frederick Grey 


. . . Yesterday was my birthday (eighty-three), and 
I do assure you if 1 had been a lovel^^ young bride 
striking nineteen, having been married at eighteen, 
more affectionate and gratifying speeches could not 
have flown from my bridegroom's lips of twenty-three. 
I can scarcely understand it, I own, so very, very little 
am 1 worthy of it. It belongs to his nature ; 1 have 


nothing to do with it, any more than Mother Shipton. 
Was there ever a Father Shipton, I wonder ? There's 
for you ! he has made me crack a joke. Papa tells 
me that Landseer's " Duke of Wellington " and " Lady 
Douro" is lovely. Harry will tell you about it and the 
moving panorama, which sound marvellous as a 
puppet show. A-propos de Bottes . . . what a dread- 
ful misfortune genius is ! Leopardi's, for instance ! 
how infinitely better to be born with my dear little 
Moll}^ Holmes's modicum of intellect ! and always to 
be right, always good, and always happy. I rather 
like myself for having written my " Mary, the Miller's 
Daughter." How terrific Leopardi's misery and despair ! 
How preferable the blindest superstition ! . . . 

I tear open my letter to say that (in my routing for 
relics for my sister), since 1 wrote it, I came upon 
Manzoni's works sent by you, with your own trans- 
lation of his "Ode on the Death of Buonaparte," and 
a most neat complimentary dedication to me which 
took me in for a moment. I have read the Ode and 
your translation with great attention, and, as far as 
impaired rushlight of intellect goes, think it the very 
best translation I ever saw in my long life — so spirited, 
and so easy, and so flowing, and so much as if it was 
an original that it rushed from the poet's pen inalgre 
liti pour ainsi dire — I really am struck all of a heap 
... I have done nothing more about Ugolino, but on 
looking at it I think more and more that it is one 
of those extraordinary things that never can be ren- 
dered or given an idea of in any other language. It 
owes its force to the absence of poetical embellishment ; 
it has scarcely an epithet. The fewest words possible 
are used, and those the simplest, plainest, matter-of- 
factest. He evidently forgets his own suftbrings in his 
children's. The father pervades every line ; his indig- 
nation and vengeful feelings are all you know of him 
individually, which corresponds with the occupation 
Dante gives him. Ugolino and Ruggiero were a pair 
of traitors together — they are in hell— the children are 
innocent and in heaven, you see; I wish he had said 
so. Mr. Wright's gives no idea of the original. It 
may be the want of dignity in our monosyllabic lan- 
guage, or it may be the necessity of making out the 
quantities by expletives, or it may be that we are not 
shocked by j)rosaic expressions in any language but 


our own. How all this has run out f)t this vile pen I 
do not know. At present the utter impossibility has 
got possession of me, and after all, for what on earth 
should I strive to conquer it? . . . 

I perfectly understand you when you say one is the 
happier for having known sorrow. You know better 
how to be happy, you estimate your blessings more 
truly : your happiness is of a higher quality. For 
myself, 1 hardly know how to say the happier for my 
sorrows ; but I hope I have made the right use of them 
and have brought my mind into a better state, but 
every joy is so tempered with melancholy that happier 
is not the word for it. All pleasures make me ready to 
cry instead of laugh. The immense difference of age 
may account for this, as for a thousand other changes 
in one's nianicrc d'etre. . . . 

[Lord Dacre died on March 21, 185 1, and Lady Dacre 
made her permanent home in Chesterfield Street. On 
May 7, she writes to her grandson, Frank, then a mid- 
shipman on board LLM.S. Castor at the Cape of 
Good Hope.] 

My most beloved Grandson,— 

The time has come when your bit of paper 
commanded me to write, and I must obey ; but indeed 
I shall be most stupid, and you will throw my letter 
to the fishes in the sea. We struck work, as you 
knew we intended to do, at the poor dear Hoo, on 
the 29th of April : the Brands to come to their London 
duties, his in the House of Commons, and hers to her 
Queen's service.^ I had to get this house in order 
(which had been left as we left it v^^hen our sad 
miseries began). This is my future home, and I make 
a sad hand of it, ordering carpenters and painters, 
upholsterers, etc., knowing no more of fitting up 
houses than my dog Pincher. With the kind help of 
Susan and others, 1 shall have it clean and nice, though 
quite simple and unpretending, by the time I want it; 
for, be it known to you that 1 rail away on Saturday 
next, the loth of May, if alive, for Howick Grange ; 

' [Mrs. Brand was a member of the Queen's Household.] 


stay there till the end of June, and then bring back 
your brother and sister Grey with me to see friends, 
and the Crystal Palace and all its wonderful contents, 
and to enjoy themselves, after the fashion of country 
cousins in books, for a month. After which they will 
return to the north, and I shall join the dear Brands 
again at the fioo, and from thence, if my courage and 
health Ihold out, pay a few flying visits to the Whit- 
breads and the Hibberts and such nice people. 

I wonder why I should have descanted so much on 
my own plans when my thoughts are so much with 
you, dearest boy. When are we to hear, I wonder, of 
your safe arrival at the Cape ? I hope you Sailors 
will have nothing to do with the Kaffirs, and trust the 
Soldiers will have set them to rights before you 
arrive. For heaven's sake be careful with your gun ; 
you will have heard of Lord Ellesmere's youngest son 
shot dead on the spot from a bit of carelessness. 
Don't lay yours down anywhere when loaded, for my 
sake if not your own, for I happen to be very fond of 
you. We have had the most terribly stormy weather 
since you have been away. The only thing people 
think of in London is this Crystal Palace: the opening 
of it went off well ; the Queen was rapturously 
received, I hear, and did everything most courteous 
and pretty to her loving people. They tell pretty 
stories of the Duke of Wellington, which I daresay 
you have heard from all quarters. 1 believe every 
thing charming about him, for his fine, noble, simple 
character is my admiration. I do not speak of our 
past sorrows, my very dear grandson, because I do 
not write to sadden you, but 1 will just say that the 
testimonies 1 receive from all quarters and from all 
classes of people of the high esteem in which my 
beloved Lord was held, and the deep sympathy of 
everybody in my grief, is a great though melancholy 
gratification to me. I do not think that any man was 
so universally loved and regretted. I only wish, my 
Franky, to live long enough to see you again, and then 
to lie in the Churchyard b^^ his side. 

Harry has been very successful in the examination 
for which he has worked so hard, and dined tcte-a-tcte 
with me yesterday in high glee. He is the only 
guest I have had in London, as I do not jdmit any but 
very near relations. 1 had a remarkably pleasant 


dinner, for 1 rather think we got a little drunk 
together; he opened his heart beautifully on several 
subjects, and a purer, more amiable heart does not 
beat under ribs. I will make up for this terrible 
morsel next time, but I really am so miserable and so 
harrassed at ])rcsent, I don't know what I am about. 
I only know that 1 am your very affectionate 


Lady Dacre to her grandson, F. IV. Sullivan 

HowiCK Grange, 
Ju?ic 1 1, 185 1. 

Dearest, dearest, most precious Grandson, — 
I have written to you but once since I lost 
sight of you, and that was so small and miserable a 
little scrawl that I dare say it has never reached you. 
So much the better if it has not ! I am now more 
comfortable, from time and reflection and kindness 
unparalleled from these dear children of mine. I 
came by rail the loth of May, and what with sea air 
and the sight of so much happiness and goodness, I am 
in better health, and in a more right state of mind, I 
hope you keep up a little French. It is the universal 
language nowadays, and I don't believe you can climb 
up the rigging of your ship without it, let alone 
cutting any figure on shore in plain English. You 
see, dear boy, I can talk a little nonsense still. 

We are going the end of this month, or in the first 
week in July, to what is now my home. No. 2, 
Chesterfield Street, where I hope to keep them with 
me some weeks, to see the Crystal Palace and all the 
wonders it contains, and all the innumerable Greys 
now in London, besides sights and friends of all sorts 
and sizes. I shall stay quietly at home and trust to 
them for taking pleasure in everything for me. My 
happiness is in their happiness, and you, my blessed 
darling of a grandson, are, I hope, contributing your 
ample share at the Cape, by your welfare and well- 
doing in the noble profession you have chosen, and 
for which it does really seem that nature had formed 
you, and which has no one fault but, in a Granny's 
eyes, from taking you so far away. We are dying to 
hear from you ; let us have a nice cosy letter soon. 
Tell us how the climate agrees with you ; whether 


you have fine fellows, such as that dear good Mr. 
Hinde I have alv^ays longed to know, and who I 
have no hope now of ever seeing. If any strange 
chance should throw him in my way, I will hobble 
boldly up to him, and introduce m3^self as your 
Granny, who loves him dearly for his kindness to you 
when you were a little boy set afloat upon the broad 
seas without leading strings, and not the tall, long- 
legged midshipman I now see in my mind's eye — with 
proper respect. By the bye, don't grow too tall ; 
sailors should be short and stout, I believe. 

This place is quite charming — such flowers ! and 
such trees ! And yet the country, when you get 
beyond the reach of Grey influence, is bare and ugly, 
as you know. . . . My only news is that I have had a 
fit of the gout since I have been here, and think it 
worth while to be ill to be so nursed ! If I find them 
relax in their attention, I shall immediately cry out 
" Oh, my foot ! " and bring them back to their duty. 
Good-bye, my beloved Grandson. 

Your most loving 


Lady Dacrc to her grandson^ F. IV. Sidiivaii, 
on H. M. Brig " Grecian " 

Chesterfield Street, 
March ii, 1852. 

My precious and beloved Frank,^ — ■ 

it is now within a few days of a twelvemonth 
since 1 have been the poor unhappy, lonely thing I am 
for the remainder of my days, but I have still many 
blessings, and am thankful for them. ... 1 will not 
let myself dwell on past sad events, all details of 
which you will have from a better quarter. ... 1 am 
very much disappointed by the little chance I have of 
getting I>arby and F. Grey this April, as I have done 
before, but if they cannot come to mc, I must screw my 
courage up, and go to them. I have not been well of 
late; the constant confinement of this, my small home 
now, does not agree witii such an out-of-door woman 
as 1 have been all my long life. 1 brcatlie smoke 
instead of air, and eat soot instead of beef and mutton, 
1 believe. I have so little society that 1 am thrown 


on my own resouices, and ani most grateful that my 
eyes arc spared to mc, so that 1 read all day long. 
Everybody is kind to mc for the sake of him who was 
so honoured and beloved, and whose name it is my 
pride to bear. I do not enter into politics ; 1 have 
nothing to tell you, for 1 live completely out of the 
world, and if I lived in it, should not be a jot the 
wiser, so stone deaf as 1 am. . . . Your father has 
been everything to me in all my long misery. . . . 
The Vic. will be lovely when you see it next. The 
lloo, too, undergoing great improvements. . . . My 
darling grandson, 

Your affectionate 


Lady Dacrc to lirr (yrandsoii, F. IV. Sitilivmi, 
on H.M.S. ''Castor'' 

Chesterfield Street, 
April 4, 1852. 

My ownest, dear, most precious Frank, — 

I left the darling Vicarage this morning, after a 
little visit of a week, which has done me all the good 
in the world. I had been quite ill from all my long 
stay in London during the winter, and our cold spring, 
and I had been so excessively confined to the house 
that 1 was getting quite out of repair. . . . You may 
guess therefore what a comfort the dear Vicarage and 
the unbounding kindness of that best of men, your 
dear father, and his excellent Emily, have been to me. 
1 am now therefore up to a bit of a chat with such a 
brisk young mariner as my grandson. You will find 
Herts much changed when you return. Tom is going 
to do wonders to the poor old Hoo, but not before it 
was wanted : the place had been so long neglected. 
King's Walden is undergoing a good deal of alteration 
and repairing also, and full of workmen. . . . Your 
aunt is from home with her old friends for a short 
time. She and her daughter exert themselves admir- 
ably. 1 did not see them. ... 1 really never saw 3^our 
father in finer condition, as we say of horses. He and 
Emily have been busy too, fitting up and embellishing 
the Vic. The greatest pleasure 1 have had for some 
years has been the being able to have a bit of a finger 


in the pie. . . , My own poor old sister is coming to 
me from Torquay, in Devonsiiire, where she has been 
passing the last six months for her health, and is not 
the better for it. ... I will not dwell on my pining for 
you, as I verily believe, happy young fellow as you 
are, that you pine a little at times after us all, and that 
your poor old, deaf, dished, and done-up old Granny 
comes in for her share, having had a fatal weakness 
for you from your cradle. I could run on talking 
nonsense to you for twenty-four hours longer, I 
believe, if I thought you would have time or patience 
to read it. Bless you a thousand times. 

Your affectionate 


Lady Dacre to her grandson, F. IV. Sullivan 

KiMPTON Vicarage, 
///// 3, 1852. 

My blessed Franky, here I am ! among every- 
thing most calculated to bring your beloved image 
before my poor old e3^es, and what can I do better 
than let myself talk of them all ? ... I am better in 
health than I have been for more than a year, and, 
indeed, better than most people of my age; and if my 
poor sister were but half as well as I am, I should say 
no young midshipman in our beloved Queen's service 
had a finer grandmother and great-aunt than one 
Frank Sullivan. The hay all round us in the paddock 
is undergoing the making, and the perfume reaches, 
I verily believe, miles around. The flowers in full 
beauty, the trees so full of foliage, the shrubs so 
grown, you have no idea of the improvement and 
the loveliness of your native place! . . . Tom is making 
immense improvements at the Hoo. I went there 
yesterday, and could not recognise anything but the 
stables. The whole house is turned topsy-turvy ; it 
will be no doubt a fine place by and bye, and if 
such great works do not send him to jail, you will 

Eass many a pleasant day there yet. ... I have not 
een able to get to the Grange, on account of their 
engagements relative to the approaching elections, 
etc., and to my own unwillingness to go so far from 
Aunt Talbot while she was so ill all May and June. 


She is now recovering but slowly. . . . Emily has a 
lovely phaeton with two beautiful grey horses, and 
gave me a charming drive witli thi.-m the day after 
we arrived. I have nothing of that kind now — only a 
comfortable old lady's brougham and a pair of job 
horses: Will Smith my coachman. Can't you picture 
us to yourself? ... It is lucky that my paper will not 
let me run on more. Blessings in bushels, from your 
poor old loving 


Lady Dacrc to the Hon. Mrs. F. Grey 

Chesterfield Street, 

"A bad Granny," ye powers! Why, the post office 
must be choked with my letters, or they must have 
been stolen for their beauty and cleverness by some 
needy author, and will make their appearance very 
soon under some other name. I have written every 
day and all day long, and it is well for your purse 
you have not my letters to pay for — ungrateful and 
forgetful child that you are ! . . . 

Summer is at an end. I never was colder, and have 
let myself have a bit of fire these last two evenings ; my 
pride, too, knocked under, and I shut my three windows 
and even condescended to a blanket. . . . Yes, 1 am 
better, and as everybody will say so, look better out 
of the glass ; but in it — oh, ye powers ! (my new ex- 
clamation) — never did I see, even myself, so hideous. 
I rather like it. I don't like doing things by halves, so 

frepare yourself for your " ye powers ! " . . . My dear, 
have been looking over old letters, and I see I must 
wait a little longer for you ; and as looking forward is 
better than looking back, I will not repine that it must 
be November before I clutch you, and you say you can 
stay longer then ; and, besides, we shall be able to get 
scraps of more people who love you, and who you 
love ; and your Fred behaves so beautifully to me that 
he must be considered in our calculations, for I do 
really believe we might tyrannise if we would. But 
do just gently insinuate that the later he comes, the 
longer he stays. I have just lent my "Rambles"^ to 

' ["Rambles and Scrambles," by Edward Sullivan, afterwards 5th 
baronet. J 


Lady Morley before I had half read it, for I thought 
the sooner it got abroad the better ; my brother and 
sister have both got it. I think well of it, and am most 
pleased and interested when he gets on real subjects 
and opinions where his style rises. My horror of 
slavery and the beastly brutality to which slavery 
has reduced the natives themselves, for they were 
not surely made (when "somebody" made them) 
without even the instinctive feelings and affections 
of bears, tigers, and rattlesnakes — it is too painful, 
too shocking ! He is a clever fellow, I feel sure, and 
it is astonishing how much general knowledge he has 
acquired — and then what he has gone through ! How 
indefatigable? How all niaiiiicr! Make him call on 
me ; where is he ? Pup said he was in the north. 
I am curious about him. Scour him well, body and 
mind, with soap and sand, and don't let him wear his 
buffalo robe for me, nor have anything of Siouxes or 
any of the tribes about him. I have nothing to say, so 
I let my pen loose after a third capital night's rest. . . 


" The Man without a Name " — Letters from Lady Dacre and the 
Rev. F. SuHivan to Mrs. Grey — Sonnets by Lady Dacre — The 
Greys winter at Palermo — Funeral of the Duke of Wellington — 
Lady Dacre's letters to her grandson Frank. 

Towards the end of our time at Howick, I made 
my first attempt at writing a story. Lord Grey was 
about to build a small ehurch at Chevington, and 
we wanted to help if we could, so I determined to 
try my hand as an authoress. Dear, kind Lady 
Morley took "The Man without a Name" under 
her wing, and, thanks to her name as editor, I got 
^loo for it. Nowadays one would have to pay 
to have such a tale put in print ; everybody writes, 
and even Lady Morley's name would not be sufficient. 

Lady Dacre to the Hon. Mrs. F. Grey 

Chesterfield Street, 

No, my dear, no ; you are as welcome to my name 
as to anything else of mine, but my name is now 
nothing. If my existence is known to a few old 
cotemporaries (there are very few still breathing), 
it is only as the poor old creature honoured by bear- 
ing such a name. It can have no effect in awakening 
the curiosity or interest, though it might in exciting 
compassion, for the individual so reduced to nothing. 
1 lived when I was last an editor in a little sort of 
literary circle called blue — now gone by — and though 1 
was not in reality blue, I was alive and merry, and 
some people were partial to me : more, perhaps, be- 
cause I rode well than anything of a higher order ; 



for I did ride well, though / say it! my last vain 
emotion! And now everybody rides well, my mouth 
waters to see them. 

But to return. If I wrote a little preface, it could 
not be in a tone that would be a proper introduction 
to the sort of work. It must not be facetious or 
droll : that would be disgusting ; nor could it be 
serious without being much too serious. Nothing- 
nothing but the poor dear name on the title page ! 
It would make Passingham and Davies^ read the 
book with interest. But the fashionable world ! the 
sentimental world ! the political world ! the commercial 
world ! now that this old fragment only remains of 
all that that name included, it would be like taking 
up one dead leaf of a tree and calling it the Royal 
Oak. I have now run myself out of breath, while 
William is on a ladder doing things to the curtains, 
and I am half attending to him. I am entirely ready 
for whatever you wish, or others think expedient. 
I have no vanity, no anything, but utter stupidity 
in me to offer to the business — only I did ride ivcU, 
and must hook that in if you employ me. 

I packed off your letters later in the day yesterday ; 
I hope you got them safely. Forgive — forgive. I have 
a little dinner to-day, which has kept me awake all 
night ; a royal banquet to Queen Victoria could not 
agitate me more. The guests are the S. Whitbrcads, 
three, my brother, Westmacott, and self; in all, six. 
The dinner itself will be nice ; my cook is really good. 
I have a letter from my sister ; her apartments are 
an absolute hospital. Her merits and loveliness and 
Christianities are be—yond\ They make me feel so 
wicked ; no, I could not submit so cheerfully, so 
sweetly, to such things. Her maid is recovering. 
Hall is mending steadily except her cough, which is 
as furious as ever ; you may hear it if you prick 
up your ears. It is difficult to imagine a darker, 
duller, colder day than this same 27th of April, 1852, 
and so 1 will take my leave and go and warm myself 

Your loving wretch, 

' [Tradesmen in Hitchin.] 


Lady Daoe to the 1 1 mi. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

KiMiTON Vicarage, 

I receive your darling bit of impudence . . . they 
have had the MS. so much between them that 1 have 
not been able to lay about me here. 1 leave it now 
with Emily, who is in all the agony of that very clever 
part where the father's coldness makes him so miser- 
able. 1 don't believe 1 can have said half how much 
1 like and admire it, for 1 have mistrusted myself 
and fear to give way. 1 wonder how 1 behaved about 
"The Chaperon, etc." 1 was bolder then, and seconded 
by such an authority ! . . . The wind is colder than 
ever, and cuts one into thinner slices in spite of 
beautiful sunshine which cannot hold up its head in 
its presence. 1 am, however, wonderfully better in 
point of sleep and appetite — sleep like a house-dog, 
and eat like a wolf — but must still take care ivhat. 
My cold quite gone, and Hall's come tenfold, and she 
ought to have real advice, but her superior knowledge 
of everything in the world will prevent her taking 
any. 1 hope she will outlive me, poor thing ! for 
she is an excellent person with that one fault, or 
rather virtue, in such perfection — handed down from 
Solomon himself, no doubt. What a pen! . . . No, 1 
leave my Petrarchian dog with Holloway, who adores 
him. He is so fat that he can hardly roll along, and 
the not having one inch of outlet in London is such 
an inconvenience ! Holloway keeps a running account 
with me for Dogs and Widows, and Wood, and does 
it with such care and scrupulous exactness, it is 
beautiful ! A few lines, please, on business, that I 
may get it as soon as possible . . . And so, good-bye, 
my ownest best of chicks. 



The Rev. F. Sullivan to the lion. Mrs. Frederick Grey 

Chesterfield Street, 
June I. 
Dearest Barby, — 

I have seen Bentley this morning, w'ho is all 
civility and almost kindness, and willing to publish. 


He read me his reader's critique, which I begged to 
be allowed to enclose to you. He had not read the 
MS. himself, but pins his faith upon his reader. I told 
him 1 thought his reader had not caught the peculiar 
and hereditary character and temperament of Edward, 
and he seemed to be struck with my remarks. I 
should advise your explaining your own views of 
Edward, and answering and defending, or the contrary. 
Bentley seemed to think that the character might be 
more devoloped without much trouble, and made 
more interesting. My opinion is, from his manner — 
for he did not say anything to the effect — that he 
would publish under all circumstances, whether you 
alter or not. Its being edited a siiie qua non. 

He would recommend dropping Edward, and 
making the title, " The Man without a Name," edited 
by Countess of Morley. He is ready to give you, 
if so edited, ;^ioo in advance; and if the first edition 
of 750 sells, to give you i^5o or ;^ioo more. He would 
not be definite on this latter point ; he at one moment 
said ;^ioo or ;^2oo, but afterwards fell to the ;^ioo, or 
;^50. You may write to him directly if you like, or to 
me ; there is no hurry, as he v»^ould not publish till 
after the election — about vSeptember. 

I have not said a word to Granny about Lady 
Morley, as I had written before very strongly, begging 
her not to meddle ; she has taken a very particular 
view of the matter, and cannot understand any other. 
She is now quite satisfied with herself, says that Lady 
Morley is all that is kind, and has written to you. 

Bentley would prefer, I think, Lady Dacre to Lady 
Morley, Imt I told him that Lady Dacre's name would 
at once throw suspicion on the author. 1 don't think 
much myself of the reader's critique, but it is valuable 
as showing the impression on an ordinmy and nii- 
intc vested inind. 

Bless you, dearest, 

Your affectionate father, 

F. S. 

The two following sonnets were wi'itten in 1852, 
when Lady Dacre was between eighty-five and eighty- 
six years old. She says of them : " In consequence of 
Mrs. Hibbcrt having [jaid me compliments on my 


sonnets, I wrote her some absolute nonsense in the 
correct form of a sonnet, without any poetry or mean- 
ing in it, taking leave of the ' old maiden ladies,' the 
Muses; and she answered mc, that Mr. Hibbert had 
found some beauty in it, which led to the second still 
more foolish poem." 

Farewell to the Muses 

Farewell, old maiden ladies ! You too long 

Have led your aged votary astray. 

And made her fancy stringing rhymes the way 

To ensure fame by melody of song. 

And yet, old girls, she will not do you wrong, 

For your sweet witchery has many a day 

Beguiled her sad heart by some tuneful la}^ 

Lulling its sorrow, gentle friends among 1 

But you are out of fashion. Sober age 

Points with her gnarled staff at winter's frost 

By flow'rets shunned, nor e'en by wild weeds decked. 

Let humblest votaries, then, your smiles engage, 

Nor be an old friend's warning on you lost — 

Shakespeares and Miltons never more t' expect. 

B. D. 

July, 1852. 

To Mrs. Hibbert 

On her Compliments to her as a Sonneteer 

You say I am a famous sonneteer ! 

A baker might be as renowned at least, 

Who could bake loaves without or flour or yeast ; 

A brewer, too, who without malt brew^ed beer ! 

Such meat and drink should surely not be dear; 

And yet, pour tout potage were not a feast. 

And you from the first course when once released 

Might hope the second would not prove so queer. 

The French say, " L'appetit vient en mangeant," 

I wish they could with equal truth declare 

" Que le genie se trouve en ecrivant," 

For then 1 might a sonnet pen to you 

Should make both you and your Nathaniel stare, 

And even beat old Petrarch black and blue. 

B. D. 

July, 1852. 



In the autumn of 1852 I suffered much from a cold 
and cough, which lasted so long as to cause some 
anxiety ; and with the knowledge that consumption 
proved fatal in the case of my mother and sister, it 
was thought prudent to obey the doctor's orders, and 
pass the winter abroad. This was a tremendous up- 
rooting ; I had never been out of England, and my 
husband was very sorry to leave his work. However, 
we decided on passing the winter at Palermo, and 
embarked in the Tagus. 

Before we left London the solemn and striking 
funeral of the Duke of Wellington took place, and 
which I saw from Charles Grey's rooms at St. James's 
Palace. Like everybody else, I thought the funeral 
car objectionable, but the crowd in the streets im- 
pressive, and the led horse most touching. My 
husband was, I think, in St. Paul's. 

On September 7, 1852, we started, staying a little 
time at Gibraltar, where George Grey, my husband's 
brother, was Captain of the Port. My first sight of 
foreign land was Vigo ; we did not land, but I shall 
never forget the impression of foreign-ness in the look 
of the boats, the play of strange voices, the vegetables 
brought off from the shore, all sounds and sights so 
different from anything English. We returned in 
June, 1853 and went back to Howick Grange. 

[Frank Sullivan returned from the east coast of 
Africa early in 1853, and was appointed to H.M.S. 
London^ in which ship he went to the Black Sea.] 

Lady Dacrc to her grandson, F. IV. Sullivan 

Chestkkfield Street, 
April c), 1853. 

I know the great kindness of your motives for 
sparing me a painful parting, so ill as 1 have been ; but 


do not fancy you can quite elude me, dearest grand- 
son. Grandmothers are persevering old things. I 
have shed my farewell tears all alone, but my blessings 
must follow you to Portsmouth even if you are gone 
before they get there. I have a nice letter from Emily 
telling me all about you. Everything has been done 
that is kindest by you, and I am at the bottom most 
happy about you ; only when one is as old and as ill as 
I am, and has known so much happiness and so much 
sorrow as 1 have, everything goes to one's eyes in the 
same globular form. 1 wish, however, my little visit 
to the Vic, which was to you in particular, had been 
better timed, but I will not dwell on that. 1 saw you 
well, and I ought to be satisfied. I have a few little 
fears as to your not taking sufficient care to remain so. 
Don't be led by jolly companions and high spirits to 
drink sparkling ale, and all manner of good things if 
they come in your way; and if you have any vanity, 
let that bad quality stand your friend in making you 
throw away your cigars, for they destroy the teeth 
and spoil the breath ; and no young lady who thinks 
as I do of the exceeding value of those two accomplish- 
ments in young gentlemen, will come within a mile of 
you when tobacco has done its work. The blessing, 
too, of being able to say, at my age, that I have never 
had the tooth ache, from having taken care of my teeth 
when young ! 

Emily sends a long charming letter from your sister, 
with a very good account of herself, saying she is 
growing fat ! la little doubt the fact, but read it well, 
which satisfies me. If they are postponing their 
return much longer, I fear I shall never see them 
more, as my attacks are more frequent and severe, 
but 1 will take more and more care of myself, and 
practise more and more self-denial for their sakes, 
lor see them I must, if I can possibly manage to 
do so, and then I shall set about taking the same 
pains for 3^ou again. . . . 

I am very tidily well to-day, and will now write 
to my own dear, good Harry ; besides, you must be 
too busy to give me your time, if my scratch of a 
letter should ever reach you. Blessings, then, by the 
dozens, my dearest grandson, from 

Your most affectionate 



Lady Dacre to her grandson, F. W. Sullivan 

Chesterfield Street, 
Auj^ust 16, 1853. 

My own dearest Grandson, — 

I cannot tell you how delighted I was to receive 
your dear little hasty scrawl after the grand Review 
in which I took such interest. I have waited a few 
days, hoping to hear more and understand more than 
a poor old landswoman can from the technical terms 
used in the newspapers. My doctor called and gave 
me the most clear and beautiful account of the whole, 
with his whole soul engaged in it ; and here I am, more 
proud of my country, my Queen, and my glorious 
Navy than ever. ... I cannot express to you how 
much I value myself in belonging, if I may so term it, 
for three generations, to the English Navy. How 
much the most noble, magnificent sight ever seen on 
the face of the earth or the waters this must have 
been ! I can sit and cry over it even now — tears 
enough to wreck the ships without the sea to help 
me — for very admiration. I hope there is no war 
coming on to make me " lower my topsails "! Is that 
good sailor's language ? My dear Frank, you must 
love your profession, or I will leave oft' loving 3'ou ; 
you will not get any one to love you half as well 
in a hurry, you dear beastie ! Take care of yourself 
however, while you have a Granny, which cannot be 
long, though my Navy, for the present, has put fresh 
life into me. I really am better, and the extraordinary 
return of my little dog, after a cruise of three weeks, 
has lent a hand in it, too. Nobody can imagine where 
he has been, and he does not tell tales, but his thin- 
ness and low spirits proclaim the ill usage he has 

Your good Aunt Talbot leaves me next Wednesday 
after a ten days' visit, and 1 believe 1 shall have the 
largest metro]M)Hs in the world all to m^-self I have 
nice letters from your father and Emily in Scotland, 
and very good accounts of your sister and her 
Frederick from Northumberland. 

Frederick Grey is very saucy to me about the 
liritish Navy consisting with mc of one young fellow, 
who is nameless. . . . But, indeed, my (Jucen, my 
" Duke of Wellington's memory," and all my etceteras 


have fingers in the pie, I vow. Are you likely to be 
going to sea ? I would not keep you losing your 
time at Portsmouth if I could. Tell me, when you 
write again, whether you have books of a useful kind 
on board, or get-at-able. . . . Your age is the age for 
acquiring knowledge of every sort, and forming the 
mind in every respect, and my heart is set upon your 
being a fine fellow and doing honour to my Navy. I 
have a fancy that 1 could prove the London's position 
in the review was a compliment to her, though it cut 
her out of much of the fun. Poor old girl ! for she is 
old, isn't she ? And now, my dear boy ... I will 
take my leave and I felt proud of your writing so 
immediately to your poor old 


Lady Dacre to her grandson, F. W. Sullivan 

My most precious Frank, — 

Your dear little letter, received a few days ago, 
gave me most heart-felt satisfaction mixed with some 
Granny's feelings about war, which I would not have 
you participate in. You have life before you, and as 
brilliant prospects as any fine young fellow can wish ; 
and every one who has a drop of English blood in 
his veins has the Duke of Wellington's example before 
his eyes ; and though I cannot live to witness it, I mean 
to glory in your future by anticipation. Such situa- 
tions cannot fall to every one's lot, but every one can 
have his great qualities, commanding the just and 
well-earned applause and admiration of the vanquished 
enemy, though so grudgingly granted by his fellow 
countrymen, and that naivete sitblinie, bonhoinie 
ininiortelle, and delieatcsse infinie, so beautifully cele- 
brated by Jules Maurel. I hope you are Frenchman 
enough to relish the exquisite taste and truth of these 
expressions applied to so great a man, who not only 
conquered the conqueror — or rather destroyed the 
destroyer — but annihilated the hero of history. 

I have let my pen run away with me, for I have but 
just finished my second reading of Jules Maurel, and, 
not being very well, humour my poor old self in my 
admiration of such a character. 1 have not written to 
you for a great while, for my impaired health and 
extreme old age confine me very much to my home, 


and my intolerable deafness makes me horrible as a 
companion to others, though one would hardly find it 
out, all my old friends are so kind and attentive to me. 
With grief I must add they are very few now in 
number, and my infirmities oblige me to see them one 
by one. I have a taste for your dear animated young 
bipeds, as well as for my old favourites the quadrupeds, 
to this hour. . . . You will probably get a letter from 
your father with this, which will put my poor little 
note's nose out of joint. When 1 see more people, 
if ever I am well enough to do so, I will try to be 
better worth reading. 

Your most affectionate 



The Greys at Madeira — The Crimean War — Death of Lady Dacre — 
The Greys go to Malta, to Constantinople, to the Crimea, 
to Malta again, return to Constantinople — Their house burnt 
to the ground — Peace declared — Return to England— Greys sail 
for the Cape — Black Town — The Indian Mutiny — Arrival of Dr. 
Livingstone — Tours up the country — In the Boscawen to Mauritius, 
to Bourbon, to Madagascar, to Johanna Island, return to Simon's 
Bay— Zandvliet — Arrival of the Forte — Return to England — At the 
Admiralty — At Lynwood. 

In the summer of 1853 I had an attack of agueish fever 
which lasted a good while, and it was decided that we 
should pass the next winter abroad. We determined 
this time to do the thing thoroughly and go to Madeira. 
War with Russia was so evidently imminent that my 
husband thought he ought to apply for employment, 
although he had not thought it necessary to serve 
while peace prevailed. He was immediately appointed 
to the Hannibal, and had to hasten home to commission 
her. When the news came he was ill with a sharp 
attack of dysentery. However, change of air and a sea 
voyage were just what the doctor desired for him, and 
the Penelope having just come in on her way home, he 
was given a passage in her, though still so weak that 
he had to be carried on board in a hammock. 

He reached England March 16, and war was declared 
March 28, 1854. I was not allowed to go back to Eng- 
land so early in the year, but had to remain another 
month. I don't think I ever felt much more forlorn ! 
Left behind, all alone, my husband ill, and perhaps to 



have left England and gone to the wars before 1 could 
get home ! However, it could not be helped ; I would 
not have stopped him if I could, and I could not if I 

As it turned out the Hannibal took a good while to 
get ready ; she was a new ship, and when I got home in 
May she was lying at Chatham, where I went. This 
was the beginning of my experiences as the wife of a 
naval man. 

A very few days after my arrival from Madeira my 
grandmother died. May 17, 1854. She knew me and 
rejoiced to see me, but soon became unconscious. Her 
life after leaving the Hoo had been a very sad one. 
Her deafness made it impossible for her to enjoy 
society, and she disliked London more and more as 
she was cut off from what alone makes London 

The Hannibal was sent first to the Baltic with French 
troops, and then to the Black Sea — in July 1854. We 
had given up the Grange and I was to go to Malta for 
the time. It was difficult to get there, as all means of 
transport were required for troops and warlike stores. 
However, a very kind Captain Hastings gave me a 
passage in H.M.S. Curacoa^ although I was a perfect 
stranger to him, and we started soon after the Hannibal. 
On reaching Malta I found that the Hau)iibal had sailed 
that morning for the Black Sea. I knew quite well 
that all the wives in the world would not have kept 
my husband back for five minutes when he ought to 
lose no time, but it was a disappointment ! 

I was most kindly received and housed by Sir 
William and Lady Rcid, and proceeded to look for a 
lodging. It ended, however, in my taking up my 
abode with the kindest of all couples, Sir Houston and 
Lady Stewart, and remaining with them till 1 left 

-J he {JLori :^^Jadij (jt^y^ 

from a (loiter- C^Ufur 


1854] AT MALTA 281 

Malta. There never were two people who worked 
together to do kind actions like those two. It was not 
till 1 had been some time in their house that I found 
out that they were the very pair who, known to us as 
Captain and Mrs. Shaw-Stewart of the Bcnbow, had 
taken such tender care of my brother Brand years 
before when in his last illness at Athens. Their kind- 
ness to me was infinite. At their house, of course, 
I heard all the war news first hand, and saw all 
the distinguished people who passed either way. 
I remember meeting Lord Cardigan on his way back 
to England after the famous cavalry charge, and his 
account of the way in which the horses, whose riders 
had been killed, charged on with the rest, and pressed 
so close upon him that he had to prick them off with 
the point of his sword. 

Admiral Stewart's hospitality was unbounded 
whether to English or French officers. One very 
funny conversation with a French officer comes back 
to my memory. He had been, 1 think, in some English 
merchant's ship, where he had come across a Bible, and 
had been reading it with some curiosity : one Jiistoire 
singuliere had struck him much. " L'Histoire de 
Joseph et Potiphar, oui Madame, I'histoire fort inter- 
essante mais singuliere ! " I did not enquire further, but 
I made Admiral Stewart roar with laughter when I 
told him of our conversation. His laugh was most 
contagious, and that and his own droll stories made 
his dinner parties very lively. Withal he was the 
most energetic, determined, and admirable officer, and 
it was not very long before he was appointed second 
in command to Sir Edmund Lyons in the Black Sea 
Fleet. My husband became an admiral, and was put 
in charge of Constantinople, Admiral Stewart hoisting 
his flag in the Hannibal. 


I was not, however, allowed to go on to Constantinople 
till the cold weather was over ; but as soon as I 
could I went to join my husband there — the end 
of February 1855. 

I found that we had a Turkish house close to the 
water side at Fondukli, between the Ordnance Wharf 
at Topkhana and the Sultan's Palace at Dolmabagtchi, 
a very good house in point of size, but with certain 
drawbacks ; one in the shape of bugs, another in the 
shape of rats. The first night of my arrival I naturally 
left my candle and my slippers by my bedside. In the 
morning there was the candlesfick indeed, but no candle; 
and after much search for my slippers, I found the heel 
of one just outside a rat-hole in the wainscot ! Finally 
the rats were somewhat quelled, but the iron bedstead 
had to be kept clear of the wall and the feet placed 
in saucers of oil, by which means the bugs were 

Housekeeping was rather difficult. We had a Greek 
man-cook, whose accounts alarmed me, the weekly bills 
seeming to be in thousands of something or other. 
The only means of communication with him, and with 
the Turkish caiquejees, was through a Greek footman 
who spoke more or less Italian. I had to interpret 
between him and our English ship's steward — a very 
roundabout business. 

I began by having a horse and getting a few very 
pretty rides, but soon there was too much work for 
any one to think of such idle pleasures, and I had, 
instead, a very pretty caique and two Turkish boatmen, 
with whom 1 could go out safely alone and get a little 
air. Walking alone was quite impossible, as Fondukli 
is in an absolutely Turkish quarter. When my husband 
could get a spare moment we used to be rowed over to 
the other side of the Bosphorus, or to some landing- 

i855] IN TlIK BLACK SEA 283 

place on the European side, and get a bit ot a walk. 
We were so far from Pera that it was quite a business 
getting to any English friends. We dined occasionally 
at the Embassy. It was necessary then to have a 
sedan chair with men to carry it, a kavass or two, 
well armed, and the gentlemen, with huge boots to 
protect them from the dirty streets, went on foot with 
big sticks, in case the street dogs were troublesome. 

Towards the end of May 1855, Sir Houston Stewart 
asked me to go and stay on board the Hannibal^ off 
Sebastopol, to see as much of what was going on as 
possible. Accordingly a passage was given to me in 
the Caradoc, and I went to the Black Sea. 1 am 
sorry I have no journal of that very interesting 
time, and that my letters to my father, which gave 
an account of everything, were destroyed. That 
was a prosperous moment with the English force. 
The sufferings of winter were over, supplies were 
abundant, the weather was beautiful, and all were 
full of hope. Sir Houston, after his usual fashion, 
organised all for one's pleasure and comfort, in con- 
junction with Sir E. Lyons and Lord Raglan. One 
day a party of ladies— Mrs. and Miss Estcourt, and I 
forget who else — were sent in a steamer all along the 
shore where our troops had landed before the battle 
of the Alma; another day we were sent by Aloupka 
and Omanda as far as Yalta, along that beautiful 
" undercliff " studded with the villas of Russian nobles. 
We ran in as close as we could, and evidently caused 
much astonishment, as we saw Cossacks set off full 
gallop in various directions. At one villa, I forget 
whether the Imperial or the Woronzoff Villa, a man 
from the garden fired at us. 

Captain Keppel — afterwards Sir Henry — was in 
charge of the expedition, and rather characteristically 


called out, " Let the ladies go on the paddle-boxes, 
and show that this is only a pleasure party " ; so we 
all obediently did so. I must confess that when we 
were there, I, for one, thought what fools we should 
look if the man fired again. However, he did not, 
and we backed off without any accident. 

Another day Sir Houston captured an escort and 
a horse for me, and I went to the headquarters, where 
I had luncheon with Lord Raglan, and was mounted 
by him on one of his chargers and taken to the 
Traktir Bridge. This had been in the hands of the 
Russians since the night of the famous flank march, 
and had only that day been retaken. When we 
arrived, sentries had just been posted to prevent any 
one from crossing to the other side. However, Lord 
Raglan said I must go over the bridge, and I rode 
over with him and saw the hut, where I think he 
said he had passed the night on a former occasion. 
Another day General Codrington took me along the 
heights where the battle of Inkerman was fought, and 
to St. George's (I think) Monastery, and one day I 
had a gallop along the field of the Balaclava charge, 
now covered with wild flowers, and saw Balaclava 
harbour with its crowds of shipping. 

At the end of about a week Sir Houston's and 
several other ships were ordered off to take Kertch, 
and I had speedily to clear out of the Hannibal, and 
went on board the Qiiccn till 1 could get a passage 
to Constantinople. There were not many ships left 
at Sebastopol, and I remember the feeling of the 
reality of war with which I heard the speculations 
as to whether the Russians might think it worth while 
to come out and attack us, and the orders to keep a 
good look-out. However, nothing happened, and I 
got back safely, after a most interesting time. 


After this came a very sad time in the Crimea : the 
failure of the attack on the Malakoff and Redan, the 
cholera, the death of Lord Raglan, and, later on, that 
of Captain Lyons. 1 forget the date of the latter, but 
I remember well the excitement of seeing the Miranda 
come down the Bosphorus, and the speculations that 
she must have been sent with great and good news, 
with which Sir E. Lyons had charged his own son ; 
and then the shock of hearing that Captain Lyons 
had been landed dangerously wounded at the hospital 
at Therapia, while his ship had come on to report to 
the Admiral. Poor Sir Edmund! he was well nigh 
broken-hearted, we were told. 

But I am not writing about the war, so I must go 
back to ourselves. I do not remember anything very 
particular till Christmas time. We had a dinner party 
of our own particular staff (captains, etc.), and I had 
with great pride and joy secured an English leg of 
mutton for the occasion. The night before, however, 
I managed to cough so violently as to break a small 
blood-vessel ; and on striking a light the bed was 
displayed covered with blood, to the dismay of those 
concerned. My Christmas was thus passed in bed — 
not allowed to move or speak, or to swallow anything 
but what was iced — the doubt being whether there 
was anything very serious or not. Happily it turned 
out that there was not, as the haemorrhage did not 
return. It was settled, however, that I should go to 
Malta to avoid the chance of cold ; and as it happened 
that the Royal Albert had to leave for some repairs, 
Sir E. Lyons gave me permission to go in her, giving 
Frederick also leave to escort me and see me safely 
installed in the Admiral's house in Strada Mezzodi. 
Frank, who had been ill, was sent in the same ship. 
I forget how long this was after my attack ; but I had 


not been allowed to move, and was shifted off my bed 
on to a cot, covered over with blankets, carried by 
sailors to the water side, whipped up, cot and all, 
into the Royal Albert, and only uncovered and allowed 
to look round when safely hung up in the Admiral's 

There I remained till we got into warmer waters. 
All went well at first, but when we entered the Archi- 
pelago, it was discovered that something had gone so 
wrong with the screw that a large hole had been torn 
in the ship's stern, and water was pouring in by tons. 
Every attempt to stop the hole proved fruitless, and 
the pumps were unable to keep the water down. 
I am afraid this is a very poor description of the 
circumstances ; but the case was so serious that all 
hands were called on deck, and it was resolved 
to make for the island of Zea, where there was a 

I am ashamed to say I knew very little of what was 
going on. My husband was, of course, called in to 
counsel with Captain Mends, and everybody was 
busy. 1 was in my cot; could do nothing, and saw 
nothing ; but knew that everything that could be done 
would be done ; and — was found fast asleep when 
Frederick came to report that all was going on as 
well as could be, and that there was every chance of 
our reaching Zea. This we accordingly did, and the 
ship was run up on the sandy beach so as to be safe. 

From the stern walk Frank and I amused ourselves 
with letting down string and hauling up oranges 
from the boats which came off, for we were both on 
the sick list and unable to kmd. A boat was sent off 
to Athens to ask for help, and very soon the Princess 
Royal and some other ship came to our assistance. 
Meanwhile, a strong bulwark had been built up across 


the screw alley, and the ship made safe to go under 
sail to Malta. We were offered cabins in the Princess 
Royalj but preferred to stay where we were, as the 
other ships were going to stand by and see the 
Royal Albert safe into Malta harbour. 

Frederick stayed a few days at Malta, and then 
went back to Constantinople, leaving me — very well — 
to keep house with Frank until the Houston Stewarts 
arrived to take possession. I stayed on with them 
till I was allowed to go back to Constantinople, and 
Captain John Moore kindly gave me a passage in 
the High/licr. We passed through the Dardanelles 
just when the news arrived of the birth of the Prince 
Imperial, and all the French ships were gay with 
flags in consequence (March 16, 1856). 

The next event was rather a startling one to us, 
though a very common one at Constantinople, namely 
the burning down of our house, and almost all its 
contents — the living excepted ! No one was hurt, 

On Saturday, April 12, we had a small dinner 
party, some of our captains dining with us, among 
others Captain Stopford of the Queen, whose ship 
was anchored just a little way off. Conversation 
turned, as it often does at Constantinople, upon 
fires, and Captain Stopford said he would keep a 
good look out for the Admiral and his papers ; to 
which I rejoined : " Please keep a good look out 
also for the Admiral's wife ! " 

We went to bed as usual, but PVederick fancied 
he smelt smoke and went down to look. The main 
building of the house was on the water's edge, the 
kitchen separated by a court of grass and trees, 
but joined to the house by a narrow strip of building, 
in which the boat's crew had rooms. Frederick 

288 THE HOUSE ON FIRE [1856 

found the kitchen very hot and opened the windows, 
but returned to bed. Our dear Irish setter, Ranger, 
slept in our room, and he became restless. Frederick 
got up again and met the Flag-Lieutenant — Sir Malcolm 
Macgregor — and the Secretary, coming up to say there 
was a fire in the kitchen : the beams of the ceiling 
had caught during cooking operations, but until 
part of the plaster fell, nothing could be seen. They 
all went to work to put out the fire, and I remained 
thinking that there was no danger, and wasted several 
very precious minutes. Fortunately the Secretary 
came back and said he did not think they would 
succeed in stopping the spread of the fire, and that 
I had better think of saving what I cared most about. 
But it was rather difficult to know what to decide 
to take ; I got all the papers that I could lay hands 
upon and tied them up in a table cover ; the Secretary 
saved the two pictures by Richmond ; I also got my 
trinket box. By this time the fire had run along 
the roof of the two narrow wings and seized upon 
the house itself, and we were told to get out of it 
as fast as we could. 

No boat had arrived from the flag-ship, but a small 
boat from a merchant ship had come, into which I 
was to be bundled. Just before stepping in, however, 
Frederick missed the dog, and rushed back to find 
him. What seemed ages passed before he re-appeared 
with the dog in his arms, and shouted to every man 
to think no more of house or goods, but to save them- 
selves. Almost as he spoke, the whole building 
seemed to crumble down like a thing on the stage, 
and the one brick wall which formed the side of 
my bedroom was left standing up alone, with a little 
fire that had been laid in my grate, burning composedly 
and properly, all by itself The dog in its fright 

i8s6] AT THE EMBASSY 289 

had taken shelter under our bed, and could with 
difficulty be got to come out. I can never forget 
those moments of waiting, and the thought of what 
might and must have happened if the poor beast 
had delayed a little longer. If the dog had been a 
child, the Admiral would have been an hero ! 

We scrambled into the boat and pushed off, Sir 
Malcolm Macgregor throwing me his wide-awake 
to put on my bare head. As we arrived alongside 
the flag-ship, the sentry called out, " Boat ahoy," 
and the man in the bow of our little boat answered, 
in the most dignified manner, " Flag," which would 
naturally ensure a proper and formal reception of 
the Admiral. We were, of course, most kindly 
received by Captain Stopford, and I went to bed, 
where I remained next day, until, by borrowing and 
contriving, I got some clothes to put on. Luckily 
my under-linen was, half of it, at the wash, so 1 
got that, and Miss Canning most kindly sent me 
a gown. She being tall I could get into it, but on 
such occasions it is desirable to be of average 

The Government gives compensation for uniforms, 
nautical instruments, and so forth ; but the feminine 
element, of course, gets nothing, and besides all 
one's clothes there were no end of things destroyed 
that one valued for one reason or another. However 
we were well out of the mess, as no one was in 
any way hurt, and everybody behaved well. 1 had 
an emotion of pleasure when the house was fairly 
flaming at the thought of the bugs and their 

Lord and Lady Stratford were most kind and took 
us in at the Embassy, where we remained for some 
time, finally taking up our abode (April 30) on board 



the Queen, where we remained till all the men-of-war 
were called upon to go to the Crimea to bring back 
the troops ; then, June 6, we went to Therapia and 
stayed at Petala's Hotel. 

Peace was made in March 1856, and the Crimea 
cleared of troops in July. It was a fine sight seeing 
the big ships come down the Bosphorus one after 
the other, laden with troops on their way home, 
and all in the finest spirits. When all was over we 
came home too, arriving at Spithead on August 15, 
1856. We went to Howick, and finally to join my 
father in Scotland, where he had taken a house on 
Loch Awe, Inverliever by name. We paid a visit 
to our friends the Hibberts, and then again to Howick, 
Hickleton, and Sprotborough on our way south. 

On January 24, 1857, F^rederick was knighted and 
invested with the Order of the Bath ; in March was 
appointed to the command of the Cape of Good Hope 
station; and on April 14 we started in the Charity 
steamer, arriving in Simon's Bay, May 23. 

Extract from Journal 

Monday, May 25. — Sir George Grey sent his travelling 
waggon to bring us to Cape Town to stay a few days 
with them and be out of the way of the Trotters (the 
home-going Admiral). We were driven by two Malays, 
one holding the reins of the six horses, the elder and 
superior wielding the long whip. The two together 
drove capitally, though a nervous person might not 
have enjoyed it. The first part of the road is rough 
enough, partly along the beach, partly through deep 
sand. After leaving the sea and turning on to the 
Cape flats, the road is very good, and from Wynberg 
to Rondebosch very pretty indeed : many oaks and 
pines, and through the trees beautiful dark hills with 
mists i-olling down tiuMr sides. Some spots would not 
be Linlikr Scotland if the vegetation were not so totally 

i857] AT CAPE TOWN 291 

Cape Town is an ugly, unpicturesque, dirty town, 
with wide streets and flat-topped houses. The Govern- 
ment Mouse is handsome inside, and both Sir George 
and Lady Grey make a most favourable impression. . . . 

Tuesday, 26///. — The Governor has been giving us 
a most interesting account of the state of the Kaffirs. 
For the last thirty years they have had a succes- 
sion of prophets whose influence is great. The three 
last have tried to bring on war with the English by 
persuading the Kaffirs to destroy their own means 
of subsistence, and keep themselves alive by rapine. 
The last of the three named a day in February, upon 
which, after destroying everything, they were to shut 
themselves into their huts, a hurricane was to come 
on, English and unbelievers were to be swept off the 
face of the land, their ancestors were to come to life, 
and a new race of cattle, not subject to disease, was to 
spring out of the ground. 

The delusion was so complete that upwards of 
500,000 head of cattle were killed ; fowls, even cats 
were destroyed, and all but a few unbelievers shut 
themselves up. 

Sir George Grey had resolved that nothing should 
suffer him to be led into a war, and thus carry out the 
object of the prophet. He had visited the principal 
chiefs, reasoned, explained, endeavoured in every 
way to open their eyes, but in vain. Finally, seeing 
what must occur, he broke up a large quantity of 
Government land, and sowed it in anticipation of the 

When the eventful day in February was over the 
Kaffirs came forth utterly destitute. They imme- 
diately fell upon the few unbelievers who had kept 
their cattle, and for two or three days the confusion 
was great. Sir George then assembled the un- 
believers and formed them into a body which 
repulsed the starving Kaffirs with success, and the 
poor wretches were reduced to complete subjection. 
They are employed on Government works and fed ; 
the younger sons are sent down here and apprenticed ; 
industrial schools have been formed for the children. 
Their faith in the prophet is, of course, utterly gone, 
and a complete revolution, productive of great good 
ultimatel}', seems about to take place. He says 


they are a fine race of people, and quite capable of 
civilisation and living side by side with whites. 

The Fingoes are very prosperous. They are now 
voters ; and no less than, I think, 300 widows have, 
by their savings, bought land for their children within 
the very short time that the permission to do so has 
been given. 

He told us also of a proposed race which interested 
me as characteristic of the man. He had a fine horse, 
called Thunderbolt, with him in Kaffraria, and this 
horse the Kaffirs tried to get by every means, offering 
to buy, to exchange, to take it as a present, or to steal 
it. Sandilli especially wanted it. Sir George was at 
that time about twenty-one miles from the camp, with 
only two attendants. He had found out that Sandilli's 
daughter was about to be sold for many cattle as 
wife to a chief she did not like, so Sir George said 
to him : " I will make you a proposal. Put your 
daughter behind me on Thunderbolt, give me a fair 
start, and then let the whole of Kaffirland give 
chase. If I reach the camp first, you shall let me 
dispose of your daughter ; if not, you shall have the 
horse ! " 

There was a long consultation, but it ended in the 
Kaffirs declaring they had no horse that could catch 
Thunderbolt. Sandilli was, however, shamed out of 
the marriage, and the girl is, I think, now at school. 
Sir George says he does not know how the race 
would have ended, as the ground was much cut up 
with water-courses, and their knowledge of the passes 
might have beat him, though he trusted to the girl's 
pilotage. He thinks, too, that in the excitement they 
might have tried an assegai. 

Wednesday^ 27///. — I rode Thunderbolt. We have 
had rain every night and showers during the day ; the 
air is delicious and the temperature very pleasant, a 
fire being ciuitc acceptable in a room that the sun is 
not upon. The streets are full of red mud, and there 
is no pavement. 1 am disappointed in Cape Town ; 
there are no costumes, no brightness of colour in 
dress, though plenty of variety of shade in complexion. 
The Malay women, with their hair pkistered back close 
to their heads, and their woodt-u sandals held on by a 
wooden peg between the big and second toe, are the 

i857] BLACK TOWN 293 

most uncommon-looking, but they all wear Manchester 
cotton gowns. 

The carriages and hansom cabs are mostly English ; 
but the waggons, with sixteen oxen or eight horses, 
are indigenous, as well as the light, covered carts, 
curricle-like in the two wheels and pair of horses, 
of which we are about to order one as the best 
conveyance for our Simon's Town beaches, 

June 3. — Returned to Simon's Bay. 

Saturday, June 27. — I have begun to see my way 
a little as to more important matters, though 1 have 
as yet done nothing. To-morrow I begin attending 

We have been to Black Town also. This consists 
of ten or twelve houses built on Admiralty ground 
by blacks, and occupied by them on good behaviour. 
Some are employed in the dockyard, some as fisher- 
men, one as tailor. They lived like pigs, but Admiral 
Trotter did much to improve them, and the cottages 
now are decent enough and some of the people 
respectable. A German, Mr. Hersch, who has lately 
been ordained as assistant curate, takes much pains 
with them. . . . Some of the oldest are liberated 
blacks from Madagascar, and anything so hideous 
and degraded-looking as the old women, with their 
monkey-faces and grizzled hair, I never saw. Three 
or four belonging to the same family have what they 
call leprosy, which consists in the fingers and toes 
dropping off joint by joint. It is a horrible and hope- 
less disease, and at hrst, when feeling is numbed but 
the fingers left, they get them burned and scalded 
without knowing it : one woman's hands were all raw 
with burns. Black Town (seventy-eight inhabitants 
in all) comes under our care. 

I am promised a list of all the men employed in the 
dockyard and hospital who have families on shore, and 
I think I shall have to confine myself to them. . . . 
This African scenery is not quite like any other, 
partly 1 suppose from the vegetation being different, 
and partly from the union of extensive flats and 
rugged mountains, barren sands and rich woods, un- 
cultivated wildness and snug villas. The silver-tree 
well deserves its name, and is almost bluish white 


when the wind blows and turns up the underside of 
the leaves. It belongs to the Protea tribe, which 
gives the character to so much of the vegetation. 
The species are innumerable, and the individuals 
generally very gregarious. One has bright yellow 
floral leaves, and looks very gay at a distance ; 
another, the sugar bush, is a little like a rhododendron 
in effect, the flowers being pink cones about 4 inches 
long ; another has black, woolly tips ; another white, 
another pink or yellow : the variety is incredible. . . . 
The heaths are getting very beautiful, and altogether 
the flowers are an endless source of delight. 

Saturday, July 25. — The Assistance arrived with 
Frank ^ on board ; we had not been quite sure 
whether to expect him by her or not. Luckily for 
me he has arrived so late that F. is going to leave him 
behind when he goes to sea on Monday, so I shall 
not be quite so desolate. . . . 

Cape Town, Thursday, August 6. — This morning 
Lady Grey rushed in before I was dressed to tell 
me that an officer of the Indian navy had arrived in 
a special steamer to ask for troops with all possible 
despatch, in consequence of the mutinies in India. 
Above seventy regiments have had to be disarmed ; 
the rebels hold Delhi against us, and have such a store 
of arms and ammunition there and outnumber our 
force so greatly, that till reinforcements from the 
Punjaub reached Sir H. Barnard, he could do nothing. 
. . . Captain Travers, the aide-de-camp, has volun- 
teered to go ; his wife luckily is in England. Major 
Boyle, the other aide-de-camp, must go, as his regiment 
is ordered to India instead of New Zealand. We 
went to see poor Mrs. Boyle. . . . It is a sudden blow 
indeed ; when we went to her house she had not had 
time even to talk it over with her husband and settle 
her plans. 

Friday, August 7. — One piece of good news arrived 
yesterday, namely, that Commodore Keppel had been 
nonourably acquitted for losing his ship, that he was 
commanding a Naval Brigade, and that ne had fought 

' [He came to act as Flag-Licutcnant to his brother-in-law.] 


a successful and gallant action while the sentence was 

1858. January 17. — ... A long walk over the hills 
with Captain Lyster. The scarlet Watsonia, blue 
Agapanthus, and two or three heaths are in wonderful 

January 20. — Rode with Captain Lyster and Miss 
Drew up Red Hill, past Brewitt's and Rochay's to 
Fish Hoek Valley, and so to Kalk Bay to see the 
Boyle children. A very pretty ride through wild 
mountain valleys and past huge piles of crag that 
look like the remains of Cyclopic masonry. The rock 
of which the upper part of the hills here is composed 
wears away into the boldest and most fantastic shapes, 
like towers, battlements, tables, animals even, long 
flat pieces projecting, or resting upon one or two 
points only. One pile we have called Northumberland 
House, because it is surmounted by a stone which 
will do for a lion, only without his royal tail. . . , 

The mail arrived five days before its time. A 
great number of letters, and no one to talk them over 
with. One feels quite choked with small family topics 
which nobody in this continent knows anything about. 
One death grieves me much — that of Lady Morley, 
who has been a dear, kind friend to me and mine as 
far back as I can remember. I do not know any one 
who will be more missed in society, or more regretted. 
Her cleverness and her wit were her least merits ; 
kindness, warmth of heart, and true good sense, made 
one love her dearly. I do not suppose any person 
ever caused the same amount of laughter and amuse- 
ment without ever saying an ill-natured thing, and I 
do not think any one used the talent of cheering and 
gladdening the heart in so benevolent a manner. In 
London, where she was sought after by every one, 
she always found time to visit her sick or sad friends, 
and, as 1 have often said, was like a warm ray of 
sunshine that did one good for the rest of the day. 
She was not only so droll and cheerful, but so really 
good and pious, and full of Christian courage and 
hope. I do not know any one who would have been 
so equally welcome in the deepest sorrow and the 
wildest merriment. 

296 KAFFIR WOMEN [1858 

Saturday, January 30. — This morning we took to 
the Kaffirs the gowns that had been made for them. 
Their manifest dehght as we undid the bundle was 
quite pretty. Mrs. Philipson had told us that as 
soon as they began to wear European clothing they 
would like it to fit well, so we had got jacket bodices 
for them. Of course, as they had never been 
measured, the fitting varied ; those whose jackets were 
tight were perfectly satisfied, but whenever one was 
too large, the owner remonstrated, and showed how 
much compression she was capable of The taste 
for small waists is evidently inherent in the female 
breast. Some of the skirts trailed on the ground : 
this they liked, and when I proceeded to pin them 
up for a tuck to be run, there were eager cries of 
" Ai ! Ai ! " and signs that it was much prettier to 
have their feet hidden. I was obdurate on this point, 
though 1 yielded to the close-fitting rage. It was rather 
a pretty sight to see the toilette. They tore off the 
old garments to put on the new shift, under-petticoat, 
and gown (though still with a regard for decency), and 
we were surrounded in a moment by moving bronze 
statues which would have delighted a sculptor. Their 
smooth round arms and shoulders, and in most cases 
their feet and legs, are very beautiful. I suppose a 
plump English girl, with a good figure, would look 
pretty, too, in such an absence of costume, but one 
does not see them, and, besides, stays and civilisation 
must interfere with real perfection of shape. The 
dark skin prevented one having any unpleasant feel 
of nakedness in connection with these Kaffirs, as well 
as their utter unconsciousness that they were doing 
anything worth looking at. The effect of the gowns, 
though infinitely gratifying to them, was not so to 
my artistic feelings, necessary as it is that their first 
step towards civilisation should be the rejection of 
the blanket and nature. It is droll to see how exactly 
the same humanity is, from its wildest to its most 
artificial form, in its readiness to do anything for the 
sake of fashion. These people suffer any amount of 
agony from the tightness of brass rings on their 
arms and legs ; they make holes in their ears to stick 
in an ostrich feather, and they delight in being 
squeezed and hampered to show off their figures and 
imitate our useless skirts. What can be more like 

1858] KAFFIR WOMEN 297 

ourselves ! No doubt wc shall soon have an application 
for a crin(>linc, though nature has kindly supplied 
them liberally with a solid substitute. 

As soon as we came home we set to work at the 
alterations, and worked away diligently till about 
six o'clock, in spite of the heat, which out of doors 
reached 92" in the shade, and not a breath of wind. 
When it was cool enough we took the gowns up, as 
the new clothes are all to be put on to-morrow, and 
then walked a little way along the beach. . . . 

February 9. — The Kaffir women have all finished 
their cotton gowns and put them on to-day. They 
had their first lesson in doing as they would be done 
by, for we made them begin garments for the two 
last arrivals. This they by no means appreciated 
till Mrs. Philipson had made them feel quite ashamed 
of themselves. . . . Afterwards we drove to Kalk Bay 
to see the Boyle children, and brought back Lionel. 
Mrs. Boyle reads aloud in the evening " Tom Brown's 
Schooldays," a most charming book full of healthy, 
open-air morality, and deserving to be in every boy's 
hands. With what pleasure Mrs. Arnold must read 
it. I think Arnold the most enviable man of modern 
days ! 

in the morning we read some German, Mrs. B. 
being a capital German scholar. They are very 
pleasant inmates. 

February 15. — I was rather amused this morning by 
the Kaffir women pointing out to me how much we 
stooped in comparison with their upright carriage. 
They do settle themselves into their hips most 
remarkably, and throw out that portion with which 
nature has so liberally endowed them, walking with 
a peculiar .waggling motion from side to side when 
they want to look well. 

March 2. — In re-reading Froude's first chapter upon 
the state of England in the time of Henry VI 11., I 
am more than ever struck by the impossibility of 
legislating men into honesty and benevolence. . . . 
I don't think Froude quite establishes his case as to the 
absence of poverty and distress in those days, because, 
though the rate of wages was fixed, and the price of 


food was regulated, and employers were forced as much 
as possible to employ labour unprofitably, there must 
have been some limit to their power of doing so, and 
consequently there may have been a great many men 
unable to procure employment at all. This, 1 think, 
is confirmed by the stringent ordinances against " the 
numerous idle persons," and the very severe vagrant 
laws. There is another question as to the morality 
of these well-meant regulations, i.e. whether the 
numberless evasions that they provoked did not do 
more harm than their enforced and unwilling charity 
did good. 

Friday^ March 5. — A charming long ride with 
Captains Lyster and Gordon over Red Hill, down 
to the sea on the other side, then coasting along to 
Slangkop and back by Fish Hoek beach. Some part 
of the way was very rough, some very good riding, 
and the whole wild, beautiful, and peculiar. The real, 
open ocean rolling in with its magnificent waves, so 
unlike the miserable little swell in this bay, quite 
refreshed one with its might and majesty. The cliffs 
rise very abruptly and to a great height in some places, 
while in some of the valleys there was real green 
grass. It took us three and a half hours, and we came 
back from Slangkop fast — one hour and ten minutes. 
On returning, 1 found F.'s other letters from St. Helena, 
and Frank's, which were not a bad finish to the day's 

April 3. — Calm in the morning, and then this 
scorching wind, thermometer 97". 1 can keep the 
drawing-room cool — about 75° — by shutting all the 
windows, but my bedroom now, at 9 p.m., is 81°. 
Hot weather to gain strength after the influenza ! 

April 22. The Pearly which has brought out Dr. 
Livingstone, arrived, and I got letters ftom Sierra 
Leone of February 20. F. thinks he may be here 
by 25th, so 1 su})j)ose I must take a fresh lease of 
patience. ... A beautiful ride with my two staff 
officers along the ridge of hills beyond Simon's Berg 
towards Caj^e Point. The side next the bay is about 
1,500 feet high, and almost ])cr|)en{liciilar ; the other 
side slopes, but steeply, to the plain adjoining the sea. 


Looking towards Cape Point there are a succession 
of jutting headlands ending in the cape itself; looking 
back, countless peaks in wild confusion, with the long- 
flat Table and the Devil's mountain backing them up. 
The mountains on the other side of False Bay were 
clear and beautiful, of a red purple, not a cloud 
dimming the sharpness of their beautiful outline. The 
ocean, on the other hand, was covered with a rolling 
mist, which, as the light caught its uneven surface, 
looked like an unquiet sea with heavy breakers. It is 
a beautiful ride, grand and wild, unlike anything 
except, perhaps, parts of Madeira — the Corral and 
Cape Girao ; at least I found myself thinking of them. 
In a country of leisure people would go miles to see 
such scenery. Here I don't suppose three people 
except the cow-keepers and ourselves know it exists. 
We came back by moonlight, i.e. 6.30 p.m., having 
started at three. 

April 24. — Dr. Livingstone and Mr. MofTatt sat with 
me for over an hour, and we had a most interesting 
conversation. Dr. L. is very pleasing, his manner 
is so simple and manly, and he is so willing to 
answer one's questions. Mr. Moffatt, too, is a fine- 
looking and remarkable old man. 

Tuesday, May 11. — Very stormy. Soon after break- 
fast a red flag was hoisted by the light-ship. In a very 
short time this was hauled down, and, to my joy, I saw 
two go up, which proved to be the line-of-battle ship 
signal. I suppose it was about ten o'clock when the 
Boscaiven's masts and her red flag at the mizzen 
showed over the Block House Point. 

May 27. — Started at 9.15 a.m. with F., Mr. Rivers, 
and Mrs. Baines to go up Table Mountain. I rode to 
near the Platte Klip, where the ascent begins. It is 
rather hard work, and I had to stop often for breath, 
but with the help of a stick, by which I was towed 
along, we got to the top by twelve o'clock. There are 
very few flowers now. We walked along the flat top 
for about three-quarters of a mile, and then had our 
luncheon. F. and I then went clambering about 
and got a most beautiful view, looking straight down 
upon Newlands and all that wooded country, and then 

300 AT THE PAARL [1858 

away to False Bay, seeing Hang Klip and Cape Point. 
From another spot we saw Hoet's Bay, but there was 
a good deal of cloud hanging over the north-west, 
so that we had no view in that direction. 

After walking about a good deal (finding some ferns 
and a hymenophyllum) we turned towards the *' poort," 
the narrow cleft which leads to the ravine up which is 
the only road on the Cape Town side to the top, and 
at 3 p.m. we began our descent. 

The mist gathered and dispersed in the most 
picturesque manner, now hiding, and now revealing 
the magnificent walls of rock which towered above us, 
and adding much to the beauty of the scene. We 
reached home by five o'clock, I riding back from the 
low ground, the rest walking, and none of us over 
tired though it is a good day's work. 

Friday^ June i. — No end of disappointments and 
annoyances ! The Governor lent us his waggon, and 
it was packed, but no horses ! At last, about eleven 
o'clock, we got away on horseback, with a cart of Sir 
George's taking our luggage for the night, and left 
the waggon to follow to-morrow. The next thing was 
that Frederick's horse took to stumbling and limping, 
so that at the Half-way House he got into the cart and 
made James take the beast, leaving Frank and me to 
ride. However, here we all are at Mr. Gird's excellent 
hotel at the Paarl, very comfortable, and with our 
tempers restored almost to their natural sweetness. 
We were most uncommonly cross all the morning, and 
really not without reason. The distance from Cape 
Town is about thirty-five miles ; we started about 
11.30 and reached the Half-way House about two 
o'clock; started again at 3.20 and got in about 5.20, by 
no means over tired. The first part of the road is 
tiresome, over a straight flat road, but the last ten 
miles are more interesting, and the entrance to the 
Paarl very pretty. An avenue of tall stone pines, 
vineyards on each side, and behind them bold rugged 
mountains, neat white houses scattered about with 
cultivated patches of ground, everything looking pros- 
perous and happy and full of character. 

It is the first time I have felt as if I saw a real 
colony. Cape Town is such a mongrel place. The 
Paarl is a town or village six miles long, and the 

1858] TO WELLINGTON 301 

houses scattered and standing among trees. We stay 
here to-morrow to wait for our waggon. A Scotch 
minister of the Dutch Church, Dr. Robertson, whom 
we met at dinner at Government House, arrived at the 
same time as we per omnibus, and most good-naturedly 
undertook to help F. to get a hack, and to put 
me in the way of seeing schools to-morrow. He says 
the people here are all descendants of the French, and 
are principally de Villiers, or, as they call it, " Filljees." 

IVedncsday, June 2. — I v/ent out with the two Miss 
Barkers and visited several of the cottages on the side 
of the mountain. These are built by the occupants, 
who buy a piece of waste Government land at a low 
price, cultivate their own vineyard and garden, gene- 
rally with the wife's labour while the husband works 
out ; they seem very prosperous and comfortable. 
One old lady had been a slave, and she and her husband 
had no time except while their master was at church 
on Sunday; she then trod the clay and he put on a 
layer, and in course of time the house was built. They 
have now let that and live in another of their own. 
The man is a mason and thatches ; one of the married 
sons is building himself an house adjoining. Altogether 
there is a prosperity and comfort about the place that 
makes it doubly attractive. The manner of the people 
to the young ladies was most friendly, full of fun and 
jokes — all in Dutch— and c(uite independent though 
very civil. Altogether I have seldom been better 
pleased with anything than with this beautiful valley 
of the Paarl. 

On coming home I found the waggon had arrived all 
right, so now with F.'s new hack 1 hope we shall go 
on prosperously. 

June 3. — We reached Wellington at 10.15. It is a 
pretty village, but too low, cjuite in a hollow, and it is 
not healthy. We went on to a farmhouse at the end 
of Waggon Maker's Valley and put up our horses. It 
was full of aunts and cousins of the proprietor, one of 
whom spoke English and was very civil and well-bred. 
Here are the finest orange-trees I ever saw, and loaded 
with fruit. The farmer's younger daughters speak a 
little English, and a nice little girl, after questioning 
me very closely upon various matters, reasoning upon 

302 BAYNES KLOOF [1858 

my announcement that I should be about two years in 
the colony, asked me if I must ride two years before I 
got to England. 

The floors in the farmhouse are of clay and cow 
dung, but they gave us very good food. For once this 
sort of thing is pleasant, as one likes to see the ways 
of the people, and they are very cordial and friendly, 
but as a general rule an inn is pleasanter where one 
has not both to pay and be civil. At 1.15, after two 
hours' rest, we started again up Baynes Kloof, a 
beautifully engineered road which took us two hours 
to mount. It is a striking pass, but the descent to 
Darling's Bridge is wilder ; this took us till 4.30. The 
rocks, among and through which the road runs, are in 
some cases magnificent great blocks of hard sandstone ; 
of the others I do not know the formation, but they 
are worn and fretted into the most extraordinary 
pinnacles and shapes, like a Gothic architect's dream 
or a petrified herd of antediluvian monsters. A beauti- 
fully clean stream runs below the road at the bottom 
of the Kloof. We saw part of Table Mountain from 
the top of Baynes Kloof just before turning round the 
corner to descend. 

Friday, June 4. — Got away by 7.40. The two F.s 
with their guns ready, but no game showed itself and 
they soon deposited their shooting apparatus in the 
waggon. We cantered along through the broad 
uncultivated valley till we came to the entrance of 
Mitchell's Pass. It is even more beautiful than 
Baynes Kloof. The morning lights and shades, too, 
made it still more fresh and striking. The sound of 
the rushing waters at the bottom of the glen took one 
back to Scotland. Ceres, wliich we reached about 
II a.m., is a very embryo town seated in a basin which 
looks like a dry lake, the plain being surrounded by 
rugged, strong hills on every side. 

The inn, where 1 suppose we must sleep going 
home, is wretched-looking enough. We dismounted at 
Mr. Blake's at 7 o'clock, having ridden fil'ty miles cer- 
tainly. The horses did their work well, and we were 
glad of a good dinner, a fire, and a comfortable bed. 

Sunday, J line G. — The shooting does not quite come 
up to expectation, and Mr. Blake cannot leave Cape 


Town till Tuesday, so we have settled to go to-morrow 
to Ceres and thence to Worcester. 

Wednesday, June 9. — Worcester. We went to Mr. 
Le Sueur, the resident magistrate, to see his house 
and garden. The house is very good and the garden 
large and excellent. I counted eleven kinds of fruit ; 
apples, pears, quinces, strawberries, guavas, oranges, 
grapes, bananas, peaches, apricots, loquats, and there 
may be more. There are six little circular ponds 
surrounded by tall weeping willows, hedges ot high 
clipped oaks and other peculiarities. The two Misses 
Le Sueur showed me their store cupboards and still- 
room ; they make their own preserves, jellies, cakes, 

Thursday, June 10.— Off by 7 o'clock, a fine morning, 
mountains clear and sharp against the sky, several 
sprinkled with snow. Reached Darling's Bridge at 
ten and had a second breakfast. Met Mr. Blake half 
way up Baynes Kloof. Walked and led our horses 
all the way down the other side. Reached the Paarl 
by 5 o'clock, forty-four miles. 

June II. — Wet night and wet morning, so F. and I 
put ourselves in the waggon and thus proceeded to 
Cape Town — much harder work than riding. 

Saturday, June 12. — Started at 7 a.m. and rode 
home. Got letters. 

Tuesday, July 27. — We left Simon's Bay for the 

Tuesday, August 24. — At daylight we were passing 
Round Island and the Gunner's Quoin. . . . VVe went 
on shore at 11.30 in state, yards manned, and a 
guard and salute on shore. The Governor and his 
wife have asked us to stay with them, so we go there 

It was very hot, but we got a carriage and drove to 
the Botanical Gardens, of which an old friend is the 
head, once gardener at Howick. It was very pleasant 
to meet a north country face at this distance from 
home. In the gardens and along the road were 

304 MAURITIUS [1858 

innumerable plants new to me. Mango, jack, bread 
fruits, baobab, numerous palms, etc. He has a great 
number of ferns belonging to the island, but not all 
their names. We did not however spend much time 
in the garden, but talked to Duncan and his wife. 
At 5 p.m. we came on board again. There are many- 
more vessels in the harbour than I had any expectation 
of finding, and very large ones : Table Bay must hide 
a diminished head. On shore there is a great appear- 
ance of activity and prosperous trade. This is the 
ugliest time, they say, for seeing the island, it being 
both winter and the dry season; vegetation is, however, 
very luxuriant near the water, of which there is 
plenty. The roads appear excellent. The innumer- 
able coolies, in their Indian dresses, gave the place a 
most picturesque and, to me, novel appearance. I 
longed to sketch them, both for their dress and 
undress. The women's nose-rings are hideous, but 
many of the men are handsome. 

Mrs. Stevenson told me a good deal about the 
island. Population 240,000 ! composed of old French 
proprietors, exclusive, well-to-do, and living to them- 
selves. Mulattoes, the result of French and black 
slave parents, who are becoming rich and rising in 
importance : the Major is a brown man ; these are 
anti-French in their sympathies. English proprietors 
and officials come next ; these, I fancy, are fewer in 
number than the French. The working people are 
almost entirely Indian coolies, and a few Chinese. 
The coolies are in great numbers ; many return to 
India, but some remain, while others bring their 
families back with them and settle here. Creole 
French appears to be a wonderful patois : it is the 
vulgar tongue, and must be acquired by residents. 

Saturday, August 28. — Rode at 6 o'clock in the 
morning with Mrs. Stevenson, a pretty little round by 
a fine grove of palms near the sea to the east of the 
town. The afternoon was passed in the Barrack 
Square, where the soldiers had foot-races and so 
forth. Just at the last came a cloud of winged white 
ants which settle upon one, drop their wings and then 
run in and out and all nbout, and worry one to death. 
1 had to undress outside my room door when I came 

1858] "LA SUCRERIE" 305 

Monday^ loth. — A heavy shower cooled the air and 
laid the dust. We started at 10.15 for Reduit, the 
Governor's country place. More rain in going, and 
occasional mists and drops all day, but not more 
than was pleasant. Reduit is high, and the road a long- 
ascent ; it is a large, old-fashioned house, very prettily 
situated on a promontory between two deep ravines. 
A good many walks on the high level, but the sides of 
the ravines are too perpendicular to allow of paths 
down them. 

We had luncheon at Bagatelle, on the opposite side 
of one of the ravines ; it belongs to Mr. Robinson, a 
rich merchant, and is kept in very good order. 

The mother, in purple velvet, and the three daughters, 
in silks and flounces, received us most kindly, gave us 
a magnificent cold collation — silver epergnes, ice, and 
champagne — and then we walked through the grounds 
to a point overlooking the junction of three of these 
ravines to form a fourth. The place is v^ery lovely ; 
plenty of flowers, shrubs, trees, a garden lawn, 
mountains on each side, and a beautiful view down- 
wards over the lower land to the sea ; on a clear day 
Bourbon being visible. 

Tuesday, August 31. — A large party of us went to 
see the sugar plantation of Mr. Wicke at La Bour- 
donnais, supposed to be the best in the island. 

Mr. and Mrs. Arbuthnot called for us at 9 o'clock 
and took us to breakfast at Captain and Mrs. 

An hour's drive brought us to the " Sucrerie," and 
there we followed the process of sugar-making from 
start to finish. The cane is crushed between two 
heavy iron rollers worked by steam power. The dry 
wood (called megasse), from which the juice has been 
expressed, being used as fuel and being generally 
sufficient for the consumption of the engine. 

The juice, after passing through a coarse strainer, 
is forced by steam up an iron pipe, from whence it 
flows into large copper pans kept boiling by a steam 
jacket; i.e. they are double, and the steam is admitted 
between the two walls of the pan. The scum is 
ladled off until no more appears ; this part of the 
process is rather tedious and it is supposed might be 
accelerated by chemical means. I'he juice, after 


3o6 "LA SUCRERIE" [1858 

running through these pans, is mixed with lime, the 
proportion of lime varying according to the age of 
the cane and the acidity of the juice. Virgin cane 
requires the smallest quantity. 

After the lime is put in the tank, it is hermetically 
closed, and all impurities are precipitated to the bottom 
with the lime, the clear juice being drawn off by a 
cock at some height above the bottom of the tank. 
Then comes a process of boiling and evaporation till 
the liquid attains a certain specific gravity. There are 
two batteries consisting of five boilers each, and the 
syrup is allowed to flow from one to the other, the 
upper frothy part being always pushed or ladled back 
to the first, until it is thick enough and clear enough. 
Over these batteries are large wooden ventilating 
chimneys, before the adoption of which the steam and 
moisture were overpowering. The syrup next flows 
to a tank under the vacuum pan : an index shows when 
there is sufficient to charge the pan, the air from which 
is exhausted almost entirely by a pump ; a cock is then 
turned and the pan filled. This is in the shape of a 
dome 6 feet, perhaps, in diameter, and has also a 
lining, between which and the outside the steam is 
admitted — at first gently, but gradually at a higher 
pressure. The object of the vacuum is that the sugar 
may boil at a lower temperature — this having been 
found to produce a better grain — and to avoid the 
danger of burning the sugar. There is a point short 
of total vacuum which answers best, and produces the 
best sized crystal. The moisture drawn out by this 
process passes into a series of horizontal tubes upon 
which water is constantly falling in order to condense 
it. The distilled water thus produced has an unpleasant 
taste and is unwholesome, besides corroding most 
metals very quickly. The sugar, at the end of three 
or four hours, comes out of the vacuum pan tolerably 
solid — at least, it becomes almost solid in the tanks 
where it cools, and it is now dug and carried to the 
mill, where all lumps are broken previous to being 
carried to the " turbines." These and the vacuum pans 
are the great modern improvements. They consist of 
many iron stands, within which a circular basin, 2 feet 
jjcriiajjs in diameter and 2i feet deep, made of fine wire 
or perforated metal — 1 could not sec which — revolves 
at a rapid rate. The sugar is thrown in, moistened 

1858] "LA SUCRERIE" 307 

with a little molasses or water, and is immediately 
forced against the sides, the centrifugal motion throw- 
ing out all the liquid matter, so that, by adding water 
and so washing the crystals, you can bring the sugar 
to any degree of whiteness you please. 

This is the last process; the sugar is then ready to 
be packed in bags made of the leaves of the vacoa or 
screw palm, thirteen of which go to a ton. 

At Mr. Wicke's they make about twelve tons per 

The molasses are rc-boilcd by being placed in large 
tanks in which a cylinder of many steam pipes is half 
immersed. These revolve, and by exposing the syrup 
to the air hasten evaporation. The molasses flung out 
from the turbines after this second process is again 
boiled, but of course the sugar is now of inferior 
quality. The cane is cut eighteen months after it is 
planted, and twice again before a new planting is 
required. Half of the estate supplies cane to cut, the 
other half is fallow ; that is to say, one-third is occupied 
with the young cane not yet come to maturity, the 
other two-thirds with " embravat," a sort of Iholl 
{cajarius), which refreshes the soil and prepares it 
again for sugar. This is a kind of leguminous shrub, 
which grows to five or six feet high, and bears a yellow 
flower, and a grain which the Malabars eat; it stands 
for three years. Sometimes a little manioc or cassada 
root is planted to make starch, feed poultry, or to be 
used as food for man. An acre of land produces upon 
an average 2\ tons of sugar : some with guano have 
produced 5 tons. It is worth from ;{;"20 to £2$ or ;^30 
a ton, according to quality. The best is sent to 
Australia, not to England, as there the duty upon 
the superior quality more than counterbalances the 
difference of price. Mr. Wicke is building a very 
handsome teak house : the parquet floors sent out 
from Paris, as are the mouldings for the ceiling in 
carton pierre. 

We went on to Esperance, belonging to M. 
Trebuchet. Here the same improvements are about 
to be carried out, but they were not yet at work. 
M. Trebuchet has built a long range of low barracks 
of stone, covered with corrugated iron, for his Malabars 
— the huts were found to be so constantly destroyed by 
fire. The immigrants now are accompanied by a 


certain proportion of women (about a third, I think), 
and each family has one small room. They store their 
wood overhead, close up the chimney, and squat over 
their fire and cooking-pot, leaving but little space, 
apparently, for any sleeping arrangements ; beds they 
have none. The men are tractable grown-up children, 
the women idle and quarrelsome. Nothing seems to 
be done for the education of the children yet, but 
some compulsory measure is in contemplation. 

We had another cold collation nearly as sumptuous 
as that of the day before ; but without the oppressive 
toilettes. Got home soon after six o'clock. 

A ball given by the Governor in the evening. Many 
pretty people and well dressed. French and English 
did not amalgamate much. 

Saturday, September 11. — Started at 6 a.m. for the 
lower part of the Tamarind River, with the idea that F. 
might catch some fish. Mr. and Mrs. Moore went 
with us and introduced us to M. la Butte, to whom the 
water belongs. Our road lay to the east, along the low 
ground towards Black River, for fifteen or sixteen 
miles. We left the carriage on reaching the Tamarind 
Bridge, and forthwith the fishing began — naturally 
without success, the day being cloudless and breeze- 
less. M. la Butte gave us some breakfast on the 
banks at ten. It became awfully hot, shut in as we 
were by rocks, and I soon went to the house, whither 
F. followed. M. La Butte then showed his vanilla 
plantation, which is very profitable, and will be much 
more so in the course of a little time, as he has 
extended it greatly. Vanilla aroiiiatica is an orchi- 
daceous plant, which grows as a creeper upon trees or 
rocks : it is very regular, putting out a leaf and a foot 
to hold on by at every joint, the leaf and the foot 
changing sides at each joint. The flower is tolerably'' 
large, but greenish and inconspicuous. The most 
curious part of the cultivation consists in the necessity 
of fertilising every flower artificially, without which 
no fruit is formed. The process consists in raising 
the upper petal and pushing aside a small flap which 
prevents the pollen from reaching the stigma. I 
suppose this is performed by some insect sufficiently 
often to ensure the continuance of the S|)ccies, which, 
however, grows very readily from suckers and cuttings. 

i858] BOURBON 309 

Madame la Butte often operates upon 400 or 500 before 
breakfast. They do not allow more than tifty fruits on 
one plant — more would exhaust it. The fruit is a 
narrow pod, six inches sometimes in length ; this is 
simply dried, and for use should be boiled with that 
which it is to flavour. 1 forget the price of vanilla, but 
each tree on which it grows is reckoned worth from 
20s. to 305. a year. 

M. la Butte, anxious that we should not go without 
a fish, got his seine to drag some pools for carp and 
gouramis, a kind of tench. He was not successful, 
however, and we were obliged to come away, as we 
had to dine with General Breton. 

Wednesday, September 15. — Left Government Mouse 
at 10.30, and by 12 o'clock were out of the harbour, 
going along towards Bourbon with a fair wind ; and 
so ends our pleasant visit to Mauritius, where we have 
met with the greatest kindness and hospitality from 
the Governor downwards, and from French as well as 
English. I hope we may go back next year. 

Thursday, September 16. — Bourbon in sight early. 
Anchored soon after 11 a.m., came on shore at 2 p.m. to 
our Constantinople acquaintance, M. Darrican, who is 
Governor. The anchorage is only a roadstead and 
very open, so that there is some difficulty in landing. 
1 was hoisted up in a sort of barrel armchair. The 
island looks very regular in shape, sloping up to the 
high centre from which spurs and ravines run down to 
the sea. Almost all that one sees is cultivated. 
Government House is not far from the landing place ; 
it is large, but not yet finished as to furniture, the 
late Governor having left it very dilapidated. My 
bedroom, however, is rather splendid, with a grand 
toilette table all gilding and lace; the washing 
arrangements only are on a small scale. We drove in 
the afternoon to a country house called the Chaudron, 
at a little distance from town. The Governor rather 
wishes to have it, and it would make a charming 
residence. The neighbourhood of the town is very 
pretty from the number of trees that have been planted, 
or allowed to grow. The cane fields do not appear to 
be so w^ell cultivated as at Mauritius ; but the public 
buildings, establishments, barracks, etc., seem much 


larger. Government appears to have done much 
more, private enterprise much less. 

In the evening came all the great officials, their 
names and titles I am afraid I forget, except the 
Bishop, who speaks English admirably and so very 
agreeable and lively. He was robed in purple silk, 
with scarlet cuffs and scarlet gloves. We are treated 
with the most unbounded cordiality, and the society 
is very easy and pleasant. 

We are to make an expedition to Salasie on Monday 
and sail Thursday. 

Saturday, September 25. — After taking a most affec- 
tionate leave of our kind friends the Darricans, and 
being accompanied to the jetty by all the gentlemen 
with whom we had made acquaintance, the guard 
turning out, the band playing '* Le God Save," fort 
saluting, and every honour, we embarked at 8.30, 
and were soon sailing along with nearly a gale of wind 
from south-east. 

Monday, September 27. — Anchored at 10 a.m. inside 
the harbour of Tamatave. It was rather pretty 
coming through the opening in the reef which forms 
the harbour, hands on deck ready to shorten sail, and 
both anchors ready to be let go at a moment's notice, 
the most perfect silence reigning. We came in 

Some officials, the Custom House officer for one, 
came off in gold-laced trousers, black hats and mantles, 
but did not give much information. An officer was 
sent on shore with a letter to the Governor, but 
brought back word that he was unable to see the 
Admiral. Later, a written answer came, but in 
Malgache, the character English and caligraphy good, 
but the contents we have not yet ascertained. 

Some of the officers went on shore, and Captain 
Powell to call on the Lieutenant-Governor. The 
officers were detained at the Custom House until 
Captain Powell remonstrated with the Lieutenant- 
Governor, when they were all brought in and intro- 
duced to him. He became very civil, gave each a 
glass of wine, and said he hoped to have them all to 
dinner. It seems that the terror occasioned by our 
appearance has upset everything ; the people have sent 

i858] MADAGASCAR 311 

away all their goods and many have left the town. 
No one is allowed to come near the ship, and no 
business has been transacted. To-morrow, probably, 
they will be reassured, and when they find we mean 
no harm and spend some money, they will approve 
of us. 

I hope to get on shore to-morrow morning, and I 
think we shall remain another day, as the Admiral 
thinks it will be well to follow up the salutary 
impression of terror by exciting a little friendly feeling 
if possible. He is rather curious too, 1 think, to see 
what a Madagascar dinner is like. 

Tuesday, September 28. — We went on shore at seven 
o'clock, and were conducted to the house of Madame 
Juliette Fiche, consignataire of one of the Mauritius 
merchants. She is a Malgache, but was three or four 
years at Bourbon, so that she speaks fVench and is 
enlightened. A good-natured fat body she is, dressed 
in a sort of coloured nightgown, and apparently nothing 

Her house is a very good wooden one, the walls 
panelled with dark wood, and the roof well finished 
off inside. We walked about the town, among wooden 
huts and spaces enclosed by upright poles, through 
loose white sand to the market, where people were 
sitting on small mats with their goods spread before 
them. The meat I did look at; it is a nasty sight 
under the most favourable circumstances, and here it 
seemed all chopped up and covered with flies. There 
was no fruit, and I saw few vegetables. Some sugar, 
rice and other grain, and little collections of European 
goods — soap, buttons, cotton, etc. Altogether nothing 
interesting. We were followed or met by crowds of 
people, all very quiet and civil, and mostly well- 
dressed. An old general, who is said to be one of the 
best men here, and was disrated on account of his 
wishing to be a Christian, came up to us. He was 
dressed as most of the " gentlemen " appear to be, 
entirely in white calico, a shirt and sort of toga with 
a green edging round the neck, a white palm straw hat 
lined with green. It is a pretty, clean-looking dress, 
particularly well suited for the climate. I saw the 
Custom House officer in a palanquin, namely a piece 
of hide stretched between two poles to sit upon, and 

312 MADAGASCAR [1858 

another little piece of hide supporting the back of his 
legs. He had English shoes and socks, and an old 
black hat. The officials seem also to have a coloured 
mantle. The people we saw were evidently of several 
different races ; the men are all fine, powerfully made 
fellows, greatly superior to the negro type. Some, 
with quite straight hair, were Hovas, the dominant 
race who are supposed to have Arab blood and to 
have conquered the original inhabitants. Others had 
woolly hair divided into compartments and plaited so 
as to stick out in horns or grotesque bushes : much 
care and thought has been bestowed on some of the 
designs. Many of these were slaves, everybody — even 
" les noirs " as Madame Juliette says (herself as black as 
need be) — having slaves. When we returned to her 
house several Malgache ladies came in and sat round 
to look at us, some of the European merchants too, 
and many natives with hats, mats, and baskets to sell. 

We bought two very handsome mantles, one of silk 
for £\2, one of cotton for ^4. They are very dear, but 
it is worth while to show what a Malgache can do. 

The Queen is absolute and against all progress. 
Her son and nephew are heirs-apparent. The first is 
for, the second against, improvements, and it is 
supposed that the second may carry the day. Schools 
are forbidden ; those who write have been taught, either 
originally by the missionaries, or secretly by those 
who did learn in better days. The Governor's letters 
are in English characters though in Malgache language. 
No one is allowed to come on board, and none of our 
officers have been outside the town, or within a certain 
distance of the fort. The Admiral has asked for 
horses to-morrow morning to take a ride in the 
country, and he has consented to stay for the Gover- 
nor's dinner. 

Wednesday, September 29. — There came an excuse 
about the horses, and it seems that the Governor does 
not appear at the dinner. The Admiral has therefore 
written to decline, as they do not seem to understand 
the respect due to a British officer of high rank. 
Evidently they are unwilling to let us see anything of 
the country. 

It was finally resolved, upon a second letter from the 
Governor, that Captain Powell and the officers should 

i858] MADAGASCAR 313 

dine. The Governor docs not say so himself, but we 
have learned that he is forbidden to leave the fort while 
any foreign man-of-war is in the harbour. 

A M. de La Stelle (a Frenchman) and a young man 
whose father was English and who, though very dark, 
has a good intelligent countenance, came on board and 
we had a long talk with them. Never was so complete 
a tyranny as the Queen's. The whole island is hers, 
and every one pays rent to her for the land they 
cultivate. If any one established a manufactory she 
would take half the profits. There is no security for 
property, and therefore no one attempts improvement. 
The power she has seems to be founded on the super- 
stitious reverence of the people, into whose heads it 
would never enter to question her authority. The army 
is not paid at all. There are no priests or temples, but 
there is some belief in witchcraft, and I believe an idea 
of a Supreme Being. 

The Oueen, her nephew, and an old man — a relation 
of the late king's, w^ho has the government of the 
capital — are the heads of the retrograde party, as well 
as those nobles who find their advantage m the present 
state of things. The other prince and a strong party are 
in favour of progress. The Hovas are not numerous ; 
they are supposed by our informants to be originally 
Malays from Manilla. Two of the native tribes have 
united and are now at war with the Hovas, but with 
what chance of success I do not know. There are 
fourteen degrees of rank here : the Governor of 
Tamatave is in the thirteenth, the Lieutenant-Governor 
in the tw^elfth. 

A good deal of rice is grown : one crop on the fresh 
land cleared by burning, one by irrigation on the low 
lands ; excellent iron is found, also copper and zinc. 
Coal is also supposed to exist. We have some speci- 
mens of knives, spoons, and a neat little balance made 
of native metal. 

Thursday, September 30. — The dinner took place at 
three o'clock. One gun was fired from the tort at the 
beginning, one at the middle, one at the end, which we 
duly returned. A tent had been erected, and the table 
was covered with turkeys, pigs, curries, etc. — all very 
good they say — pickles, salad, and cakes. Claret and 
vermouth the drinks, except for the Queen of Madagas- 


car's health, which must be pledged only in champagne 
or sweet wine. The plates, glasses, silver, and attend- 
ance, all very civilised. The company consisted of ten 
of our people, several of the European merchants, and 
the native officials, who were not dressed in their 
national dress, but in all sorts of European uniforms, 
with plumes, epaulettes, and gold lace. Madame 
Juliette and four ladies were present ; they sat all 
together at one end of the table, their hair well frizzed 
out with flowers in it, their dress of green gauze. 
This is Captain Powell's description of it. 

The Admiral has sent a present to the Governor of 
blue cloth, duck, and silk handkerchiefs in return for 
bullocks and poultry, so we part on the best of terms. 
It is tantalising not to be allowed to go into the country 
at all, but there is no use in attempting to infringe the 
rules, and after all they don't want us to come, and if 
we don't like it we had better stay away. 

We sailed at 1 1 a.m. 

Monday, October 4. — Two hours more daylight would 
have enabled us to anchor at Johanna this evening. 

Tuesday, October 5. — We anchored at twelve o'clock, 
a little to the south-west of the town, opposite a white 
mark placed on the beach among some cocoa-nut trees. 
We have to go very close in before we can get any sound- 
ings. Sidi Drahman, who is authorised interpreter 
and rather an important personage, came on board 
with civil messages immediately, and we find English 
amazingly looked up to here. Numbers of small 
canoes, so narrow that a man can scarcely sit down and 
stow his legs in them, and which are kept afloat by 
means of outriggers, came ofT with cocoa-nuts, pine- 
apples, batatas, arrowroot, and so forth. There seems 
to be nothing worth getting however, and we are at 
the wrong season for every sort of fruit. 

The island is very green on this side of the town, 
which is curious considering how bare it was on the 
other. 1 suppose more rain falls here. Steep spurs 
run down from the centre, the sides and ridges appear 
cultivated, the hollows full of cocoa-nut and mango 
trees, the whole ridge and furrow, without a morsel 
of level ground. 

We landed near the watering-place about three 


o'clock, and took a scrambling walk up the valley. 
It was hot and close, like a hot-house atmosphere, but 
the sun did not strike upon us after we got into the 
ravine, and at first v^^e had the shade of most splendid 
mango trees. All the ground has been planted or 
cleared where possible, but we reached some places 
where the native vegetation of ferns and creepers was 
still untouched, and it quite came up to my ideas of 
tropical scenery. The elk's horn moss grows to a great 
size on many of the trees : many that we saw were the 
same as those seen at Mauritius ; but there is so much 
more moisture here that they attain a greater size. 
We had to cross and re-cross the stream many times ; 
the water is beautifully clear and abundant, though 
it loses itself under the stones near the mouth, and the 
river appears there much smaller. We saw some 
natives who had caught three or four nice-looking fish 
with a net, and we bought them, but they did not turn 
out very good. One of the men went up a cocoa-nut tree 
sixty or seventy feet high, tying his ankles together 
after the fashion one has so often read of, pressing the 
soles of his feet and the ligature against the small 
inequalities of the trunk, so as to support him while 
lifting his arms for the next frog-like spring. It is 
astonishing how rapidly they go up. He cut down 
some cocoa-nuts and we all drank the water. 
Mr. Sunley, the Consul, came about twelve o'clock, and 
the Admiral went on shore with him at two o'clock to 
call upon the King. 

Thursday, October 6. — The King and his suite came 
off soon after two o'clock ; they were received with 
yards manned, and all the honours. The King is about 
twenty-five, rather good-looking ; he is said to be 
amiable and intelligent, speaks a little English, and 
was much interested by our large microscope and the 
globes, finding Johanna, England, etc. at once. This 
he taught himself. His cousin. Prince Mahommed, 
speaks English very well and is very quick. All were 
picturesquely dressed with turbans, shawls round their 
waists stuck full of daggers, swords with inlaid handles, 
bare legs and sandals, like the drawings one sees of 
the ancient Persians. There was little affectation of 
form or state ; but, like all Orientals whom I have seen, 
their manners were very good. The whole party went 

3i6 THE ROYAL HAREM [1858 

round the ship, and after returning to the cabin the 
King wished to see the marines exercise. I had pro- 
posed to visit his harem, so it was arranged that I 
should go after his return on shore. The Admiral, too, 
was to be admitted as he was " all same as his father," 
a most unusual mark of good-will, though implying 
a strong sense of his Excellency's venerable appearance, 
which perhaps was not equally flattering. 

We accordingly went on shore soon after His 
Majesty and walked through the streets, scarcely four 
feet wide, of the miserable little town. 

Prince Mahommed came to meet us, and the King 
awaited us at the steps of his house and took us up 
on to the roof, where, in a narrow corridor with a 
temporary linen roof, some benches and armchairs 
were arranged. He brought in his three wives, who 
looked under eighteen, all of them. Then the mother 
of the principal one, with the little granddaughter six 
months old. The Queen, as they call the principal 
wafe, was tall and very nice-looking : they were all three 
pretty, with gentle, pleasing countenances and manners. 
Their dress, a red cap about six inches high going 
straight up, the hair cut short, and a piece of the China 
medal ribbon hanging down on each side. The cast 
of features, as well as the dress, are very Egyptian 
looking, and one felt as if some of the queens figured 
in the tombs had come to life. Quantities of gold orna- 
ments and collars were round their necks, and they 
wore embroidered jackets and a petticoat, with a sort 
of scarf of gold-sprigged muslin, altogether becoming 
and pretty. As soon as we were seated, a slave brought 
in a basket covered with muslin, which she presented 
on her knees, and from which the Queen took a chain 
of orange flowers threaded tightly together, which she 
threw round my neck ; another slave came and I 
was presented with some vials of ottar of rose and 
sandal-wood ; and the King gave me a ring. Then 
came some sherbet, and after a little conversation, 
during which a slave stood fanning me, I asked to see 
the other apartments. The new palace is in progress, 
and part of it iwas shown me, alter going through a 
miserable dark room and up such a staircase as you 
hardly meet with in an Enghsh cottage. The new 
rooms arc small and wretched ; there is a great look 
of poverty in spite of some gold and silver. The ladies 



showed me the window from which, with a long glass, 
they looked at the ship and observed me walking in 
the stern walk. An old Malay woman from the Cape 
served as interpreter, and I was beginning to get them 
to talk, when the King came to see what we were about, 
and after rectifying the toilet of one of his wives by 
putting on her a pair of gold bracelets, took us back 
to the verandah. The interpreter, Seyid Abdurahman, 
being there, only two wives, his niece, and daughter 
were allowed to be present ; the third wife was not 
allowed to be seen by him, although she was by the 
Admiral. We were next taken by Mahommed to see 
his wife. The sweet-scented garland was here thrown 
round the Admiral's neck, and a silver chain round 
mine. His wife is not so nice-looking as the King's, 
but still with a pleasing, gentle countenance, tie acted 
as interpreter himself, and then, with the King, accom- 
panied us through the streets, walking down to the 
boat with us. 

Nothing can be more flattering to the English than 
their whole manner, and one cannot help being pleased 
with these gentle, harmless, well-meaning people. 
They are very poor and ignorant, but by no means 
wanting in intelligence, and they have one great merit, 
namely, that of following strictly the Koran's injunc- 
tions against strong drink. The absence of state and 
the King's accessibility are also in his favour. 1 could 
not refuse their presents without hurting their feelings, 
and I shall have to sacrifice rather a good shawl and 
some other articles so as not to remain in their debt. 
Candles are very much liked by some of those who 
come on board ; writing-paper, pencils, knives, and 
lucifer matches are very popular. 

Friday, October 7. — Did not go on shore all day. 
The King came on board to talk over various matters 
with the Admiral. I don't think England has managed 
matters well ; after promising him a certain number of 
flint muskets and soldiers' coats, he receives in a 
merchant vessel a smaller number of old percussion 
muskets, no caps for them, and no coats for his soldiers. 
These people are so well disposed, and it is so im- 
portant that the island should not belong to any other 
great power, that it is very foolish to do such ungra- 
cious acts. A good and honourable feeling seems to be 


growing up, and will in time check the present-giving 
system. The King was very anxious that the bullocks 
he gave as a present should not be supposed to require 
an equivalent gift, and they have been very much hurt 
sometimes at being offered trumpery gifts like the 
barbarous coast chiefs. One trait pleased me. The 
King wanted twenty-five yards of blue cloth, but would 
not have it mentioned to the Admiral for fear the 
quantity should be given him ; he negotiated the pur- 
chase, and sent the money on board before the Admiral 
heard of it. Altogether he is very interesting. He 
took such an intelligent interest in the terrestrial globe 
that it was given him along with a book on the subject, 
which he will be able to read, at all events, with a little 
help. F.'s revolver was an enchanting present to 
Mahommed Abdullah, and I hope the ladies will 
approve of my contributions, though the shawl was 
not sacrificed. 

The Johannese use the Arabic characters, but their 
language is a mixture of Arabic, Madagascar, Portu- 
guese, and whatever other tongues are spoken in these 
seas. They cannot understand the Koran, though 
they can read it, and it is their only code of law. 
Mr. Sunley, who has Sale's translation, is often re- 
ferred to. I had a note, beautifully written, from 
Mahommed's wife this morning, which he interpreted 
to me. He readily wrote all our English names, 
spelling them his own way, and so correctly that the 
others, on reading what he had written, pronounced 
them quite well. He has been on board nearly all 
day walking in and out of the cabin, and quite at 
home, very well-bred and well-mannered. We are 
going away to-morrow. I should like to come back 
next year and bring these nice people some useful 

One rather curious custom here is that the fathers 
build houses for their daughters and give them as 
marriage portions, so that instead of the wife being 
turned out of doors in case of conjugal difficulties, 
that is the husband's fate. As he may have four wives 
he has generally another house to go to, but instances 
have been known of a man being turned out by all 
four wives. Without knowing the circumstances, I 
think one ma3'^ safely give the verdict of "served him 
right ! " 


Simday, October 10. — A fair wind, of which we took 
advantage at 7 a.m. Smooth water and pleasant 
sailing, we soon lost sight of Johanna and M(;hilla, 
as it was very hazy. We passed an Arab dhow, a 
most primitive vessel, something like what one 
imagines Ulysses to have cruised about in. 

'J'he comet is very beautiful to-night, and we have 
been gazing long at it, the moon — Venus, and Antares, 
all very near together. 

Monday, November 8. — The light was seen at 9.30 
yesterday evening, just where it ought to be. The 
wind, which has been blowing furiously from the 
south-east all night, slacked after we got into False Bay, 
but we anchored at 10 a.m. Found all things well. 

1859. Friday, January 28. — Made an expedition in 
search of the Disa Grandiflora. We started about 10 a.m. 
and rode to Mr. Versfeld's house beyond Wynberg, 
thence to a point between the Hoets Bay Road and 
Table Mountain, where Lady Grey joined us from the 
carriage. Mr. Versfeld acted as a guide and we rode 
the greater part of the way : one bit was too steep 
and rocky, and the horses were led. In consequence 
of many delays it was two o'clock by the time we 
reached our point. A stream here ran through a 
broadish valley, which, however, soon narrows into a 
steep ravine falling towards Hoets Bay. 

The summit of Table Mountain was right before us, 
and an hour's easy riding would have taken us there. 
Such a perfect day — no mist, no wind, not much sun — 
made us rather sorry to lose the opportunity, but we 
had not time. We had, however, accomplished our 
object, for here all along the stream, its roots in the 
water, was the Disa in full beauty and great abun- 
dance. Most beautiful it is in size and colour. The 
two large, wing-like petals (sepals rather) fully two 
inches each in length, of the loveliest carmine, the 
third, helmet shaped, white with branching veins of 
crimson, and the small inner ones marked with 
orange. I'he scarlet Crassula Dictrichia Coccinea was 
growing abundantly in the crevices of the rocks, 
and was covered with dazzling blossoms. The large 
blue agapanthus and a coral-like heath were the 
most conspicuous flowers, besides which there were 

320 2ANDVLIET [1859 

the Disa patens— yoWow, the blue one, and more 
heaths. We got home about 6.30, having enjoyed our- 
selves extremely. It is a very easy and repaying 
expedition, and much the best way of going up Table 

Sunday, February 13.— Sunday-school, the first 
time since my return. Frank returned from Ronde- 
bosch and announced his engagement to Miss Agnes 

Friday, April i.— At twelve we started for Zandvliet, 
riding straight across the flats. We went very gently 
and arrived about four o'clock : a pleasant ride, and we 
had no difficulty in finding our way in spite of evil 
forebodings from our friends. 

We steered by a pointed mountain which we knew 
to be just over Zandvliet. On a foggy day one might 
lose oneself easily enough. The country immediately 
round is flat and grassy, with a background of the 
Hottentot Holland mountains. The house, a complete 
Castle Rackrent, comfortable enough but quite 
unfinished, doors without handles or hinges, wood- 
work without paint ; the drawing-room not ceiled 
or inhabited, farm buildings very extensive and in the 
same condition, garden a wilderness, etc. They are 
gradually getting things to rights now as Mr. Cloete's 
difficulties are lessening. Cows and horses in plenty, 
corn as much as they can grow, vineyards from which 
a common wine, or else brandy is made. The railway 
must raise the value of this property eventually. 
Mr. Cloete has labourers of every country and colour, 
and likes the Kaffirs ; he has many Germans, who 
seem good hands. 

Sunday April 3.— Went to Stellenbosch to church ; it 
is about twelve miles off, so we had to start early in 
order to be there by ten. We took our luncheon with 
us, and sat under some trees oulsidc the town till the 
heat was over, when we drov'c back. 

Stcll(Mibosch is extremely pretty, the streets are 
wide, with an avenue of tall oaks and a run of water 
down each. The houses very white and clean-looking 
outside, beautiful mountains on three sides; it is the 
jjrettiest place 1 have seen. 

i859] AT ZANDVLIET 321 

Mondav, April 4. — F. and Mr. Cloete went to the 
Palmiet River, sixteen miles off, to shoot ; they return 
to-morrow. 1 took a ride in the afternoon. The 
riding is capital as there are large plains with tracks 
across them free from mole-hills, where one may 
gallop all day long. We went by the Company s 
Drift, a pretty ford across the Eerst River. 

Tuesday, April 5. — Made an expedition to the top 
of Sir Lowry's Pass. Mrs. Sullivan,^ Miss Fanny 
Cloete, and I, three unprotected females on horseback ; 
Miss. L. Cloete and the " Baby" (so called) in a cart ; 
leaving Mrs. and Miss Cloete at a sale on the way to 
be picked up as we came back. We looked in at the 
sale too. It is one of the usual ones consequent upon 
the division of property. The father died two months 
ago ; the farm is to be the eldest son's, but all the in- 
and out-door gear is sold to be divided among the 
other children. We rode up an avenue of fir-trees, 
at the end of which appeared part of the house, and the 
sea as a background ; numbers of people had arrived 
in carts, waggons, and on horseback. The house was 
crowded with well-dressed and rather handsome 
women. Crockery, plate, kitchen utensils, all spread 
out on the tables, and in an inner room the poor widow 
with some of her friends, and all her unsympathising 
acquaintance crowding in and out, talking and specu- 
lating, and making it a day of business and pleasure. 
It was a melancholy sight, I thought ; but nobody else 
seemed to think so. 

We only stayed a few minutes and then rode on. It 
is eleven miles to the foot of the Pass, and three more 
to the top. The descent on the other side is not rapid ; 
there is a level table-land of the most barren and stony 
nature, but with some beautiful heaths and everlastings. 
Here we found water and out-spanned for luncheon. 
We five females got on capitally and were very merry. 
The driver of the cart looked after our animals. We 

fot home about 4.30, having had a very pleasant day. 
'he sportsmen came back at dusk with thirty-five 
brace of partridges. 

Thursday, April 7.— Rode home along the beach— 

' [Hessie Cloete married Richard Sullivan, first cousin of Lady 
Grey ; he died February 6, 1858.] 



just four hours ; and it is about twenty-six miles, over 
loose sand hills, from the house to the beach, and after 
two miles of beach, an hour's heavy work over sand 
hills again, as the beach is rocky. From thence to 
Kalk Bay all beach, and we got into no quicksands. 

Friday, May 6. — Boscawen left for Saldanha Bay. 

Thursday, July 28.— Went to luncheon at Mrs. Bell's, 
and took up Agnes and returned to Simon's Bay. 

Friday, August 11.— At 9.30 the signal was made 
for a line-of-battleship, and Mrs. Luke, Agnes, and 
I started up Red Hill with a telescope. We had to 
go to the top before we saw the old Boscaiven. She 
came in beautifully, and took up her moorings without 

Seeing Frederick and Mr. Jones come on shore 
without Frank, we did not know what to think, till 
Frederick shouted out that Captain Sullivan was left 
behind. He is Commander, and in the Conflict— 2. 
melancholy bit of good news for poor dear Agnes! 
and they may not meet for a year. Thank God, all are 
well, and they have come back wonderfully near their 
time. Agnes went away back to her mother. 

Monday, September 26.— Set off on our small trip ; 
we have determined to see Franschehoek it we can, 
and our plan is to ride and forward our baggage as we 
can : it is so expensive to have a waggon and four 
horses waiting upon one's portmanteau. Accordmgly 
we despatched our goods per omnibus to Zandvliet, 
and rode by the beaches and flats ourselves. It was 
very hot— not a breath of wind— and the midges were 
most aggravating ; besides which we had rather a chase 
after our horses, whom we knee-haltered hi order to 
botanise quietly, but who were too fresh to be very 
easily caught. 

Tuesday, September 27.— We made a bargain with a 
farmer here to send our things in his cart all the round 
we propose to make : the hire of a cart and boy 145. 
a day, we feeding them. The man at Cape Town in- 
sisted on our requiring four horses, for which we were 
to pay £2, we feeding them as well. F. went out 

1859] MRS. VAN DER BYL 323 

before luncheon and shot two quails ; they are not 
yet very plentiful. 

We got a quantity of plants new to us, many small 
orchids and bulbs, also an anemone, blue, white, and 
yellow ixias ; blue and yellow irises abound. A red 
gladiolus, with the three lower petals yellowish green, 
is handsome ; they call it colquintjees. 

Wednesday, September 28. — Very hot and close all 
the morning. In the afternoon we drove to Mrs. 
Van der Byl's. She is a widow, sister-in-law to 
Mrs. Cloete, and lives about four miles off towards 
Stellenbosch. Our vehicle was worth seeing — a very 
old Cape cart, no splash-board (it had been kicked 
away), raw-hide harness, a hide whip, a raw-boned 
bay on one side, a little shambling grey on the other. 
One of the girls drove, and Mrs. Cloete, Mrs. Sullivan, 
and the little one sat behind. 

Mrs. Van der Byl is rich, and everything looks rich 
about the place ; it is in better order (except the road) 
than most Cape places. The house, like all the Dutch 
farms, is long, low, brilliant with whitewash, thatched, 
a gable in the middle over the front door, a stoep the 
whole length of the house, paved with large square 
bricks. The wine-cellar (the estate once produced 
360 leaguers of wine) runs at right angles to the 
house, and two lines of small oak-trees are planted 
in front. There is a good garden with fine orange- 
trees, and at the end "the finest oak" in the 
colony, composed of several large stems. The 
drawing-room is handsome, but the store-room was 
the show ; this evidently is the pride of Mrs. Van 
der B^d's heart. It is not very large, but beautifully 
kept. Shelves along each side, with a muslin curtain 
drawn before them, and vandyked muslin as a sort of 
vallance to each shelf; these are covered with dinner, 
dessert, breakfast, and tea-sets (all handsome) of modern 
china. Below come tin cases " of sizes," full of cookies 
or cakes, maccaroons, biscuits made with grape juice, 
etc. Below, again, cupboards full of preserves, all 
home-made. We had tea and konfyts in Dutch style, 
which, curiously enough, is very Turkish — i.e. two 
glass bowls with preserves, and one v^^ith water in 
which are many spoons ; you take a mouthful and 
put the spoon back in the water. Mrs. Van der Byl 

324 THE BERG RIVER [1859 

spoke very imperfect English, her father, she said, 
having been so pillaged and robbed by the English 
when they took the Cape that he would not let her 
learn the language. 

M^cduesday, October 5. — A fine morning, so we rode 
off at nine o'clock through the pretty valley by the side 
of the Berg River. Pleasant farms, with their white 
gables and thatched roofs, nestled among oaks and 
fruit-trees in all the nooks along the spurs of the 
mountains. We crossed the Berg River at the new 
bridge, opened by Sir George Grey just before his 
departure ; this river runs on to the Paarl, some of the 
houses of which we could just distinguish. Turning 
to the left, and leaving the principal part of the 
Drackenstein valley to our right, we came to a small, 
rapid stream, where our baggage cart had pulled up. 
We had not been cautioned as to this stream, but 
seeing that it was much swollen by last night's heavy 
rain, Frederick went in first to try it. He got through 
without much difficulty, and I followed, also without 
misadventure, though the water was above the girths 
in one part. Then came the cart ; the horses were 
small, the stream strong ; they swerved down the 
current, floundered, and fell. The driver had no knife 
to cut the harness ; our English lad had never been in 
such a predicament before, and sat still. F. shouted in 
vain to them to jump out and hold up the horses' heads, 
as the poor brutes were held down by the gear and the 
pole. Two little urchins, seeing the case, ran off for 
help, and F. rode back across the stream to the other 
side, near which the cart now was. A farmer and his 
men arrived, and at length the horses were cut adrift 
and hauled on shore, but one was quite dead. If the 
drivers had had a knife, or a little more energy in 
holding the horses' heads up, they might both have 
been saved. Leaving the cart, with a promise from 
the friendly farmer to send it on when the waters fell, 
Frederick again forded the stream and joined me, I 
having remained a passive spectator all the while, not 
liking to try the water a second time, and, indeed, not 
being of any use beyond liolding the horses. 

The Bang Hoek, as the valley leading to Stellen- 
bosch is called, is very, very pretty; then comes a 
long, tiresome, winding descent, like the first part of 


Baynes Kloof, into Stellenbosch. Here we rested an 
hour, and then rode on twelve miles to Zandvliet, 
arriving about five o'clock. We found that they had 
had miserable weather, too, and imagined us weather- 
bound at the Palmiet River. 

Friday, October 7. — Started at 7 a.m. to ride home ; 
the tide did not serve for the beach, so we went to Rath- 
felders to breakfast, and got home a little after two. 

Thursday, December 22. — A very busy day. We had 
thirty-two of the ship's boys on shore at ten o'clock ; 
examined them as to their reading, writing, arithmetic, 
geography; gave them a dinner, which they enjoyed 
greatly, one drummer boy being overheard to say of 
the pudding that it was too good to last ! Then sports 
in the field, prizes for their proficiency and good con- 
duct combined, ending with tea and bread and butter. 
I never saw a finer or nicer set of lads ; many of them 
read as well as possible ; several wrote and spelt well, 
while some showed great quickness and general know- 
ledge. It was a most satisfactory day altogether, and 
I hope useful as well as pleasant, to the boys. 

i860. IVediiesday, January 25. — Went on board the 
slave brig sent down as a prize from Ibo. The slave 
deck was just taken up, but 1 could see what it had been, 
barely 4 feet high : no ventilation, but two hatchways 
secured Vv^ith iron gratings, and this was to have from 
800 to 1,000 men, each seated between the legs of the 
one behind him ! A few are allowed on deck at a time 
during the day, but none at night. How they can live 
is marvellous. The provisions (millet and farina), the 
water, 200 or 300 pairs of irons, the large coppers for 
cooking were all on board, so that there was no diffi- 
culty in condemning the vessel. She is a nice brig 
(condemned as 400 tons), and the Admiral thinks of 
buying her for Government and sending her up to 
Johanna with stores as he is so short of vessels, the 
Sidon's boilers incapacitating her for two or three 
months. The West Coast squadron is now reduced 
to five effective vessels ! 

Wednesday, March 15. — English mail arrived yes- 
terday, and news that Sir II. Keppcl would be here 

326 AT SIMON'S BAY [i860 

in the Forte the end of next month to relieve us and 
the Boscazven. 

Friday, April 13. — All this week has been occupied 
with dissipation : Monday and Tuesday in prepara- 
tions for our farewell ball on Wednesday. It went off 
splendidly. We had a house full for the occasion — 
General, Mrs. Wynyard, and son, Mr., Mrs., and Miss 
Rivers, Mrs. Sullivan and three Miss Cloetes, and the 
two Miss Bells. The invitations were over 500, but 
about half came, which, considering the distance, was 
as much as we could expect. Twenty-five miles to a 
ball and twent3^-five miles back requires some zeal, 
and though everybody filled their houses, everybody 
at Simon's Bay don't amount to many bodies. 

Tuesday, April 24. — My Kaffir boy Tony is gone, 
returning in the IValdcnsiati to his own country, where 
he will be under the charge of Mr. Birt, of the London 
Mission at Peelton, near King William's Town. I am 
very sorry to part with him, he is such a fine, intelli- 
gent fellow, and of a very good disposition ; he is 
gone loaded with presents, and with the goodwill of 
all the servants. As far as his knowledge goes, I think 
he is a true Christian, and that there is more reality 
about his religion than in that of many who know 
more. 1 trust he will do well. 

Tuesday, May i. — In the evening we pulled out 
beyond the lightship to get a view of the Cape Point 
Light, now lighted for the first time. A most lovely 
calm night, bright moon and fleecy clouds, and the 
water brilliant with phosphorescence. 

Saturday, May 19. — Started at seven o'clock to ride 
to Zandvliet ; young Dawson on the black marc arrived 
at 12.30. A most lovely day. 

Monday, May 21. — Rode with Fanny and young 
Dawson to Mr. Thennissen's farm to see the famous 
camphor trees — there are many very fine ones, one 
25 feet in circumference — they look more like old ash- 
trees of unusually large size than any other trees 
that I can think of The place was a country residence 
of old Governor Van der Stell, about 150 years ago, 


and it is very picturesque, though too much shut in 
for a pleasant winter house. The mountains of Hot- 
tentot's Holland form a background, and there is a 
view across the bay to Simon's Town through one 
little gap in the trees. 

Wednesday, May 23. — We took leave of these dear, 
kind, hospitable people and of Zandvliet, and rode 
across the flats to Rondebosch, where we had luncheon 
with the Bells. Thence to Cape Town. 

Wednesday, July 4. — just before we went to dress 
for dinner a steamer was reported. This soon ap- 
peared to be a large one, then a man-of-war, then 
an English frigate, and finally the long expected 

Friday, July 6. — Good-bye-ing without end. I w^ent 
to the schools, Black Town, and all my cottage friends 
in the morning : their farewells were warm and hearty. 
Then with Frederick to acquaintances, ending with 
Mrs. Browning, to whom I was very sorry indeed to 
say good-bye. 

Saturday, July 7. — We embarked at 10 a.m., taking 
Agnes, Mr. Bewicke, and his boy with us. A showery 
morning, and cold. The Brisk took us in tow a little 
before mid-day and towed us out of False Bay, where 
she cast us off, and, coming under our stern, bade us 
farewell with hearty cheers, to which our men re- 
sponded with a will. 

Outside it was very rough, and Agnes and I could 
not look at dinner, but went early to our cots. 

September 5. — We got back to England, and parted 
with great sorrow from Captain Powell and all our 
Boscaiven friends, with whom we had had such pleasant 
intercourse for three years. 

Agnes Bell came home under our care, being en- 
gaged to my brother Frank. Great was her sorrow 
when we learned, on reaching Plymouth, that he and 
his ship had just been sent off to the coast of Syria. 

We did not lose much time in looking about us, and 


after seeing family and friends, settled down at Bolney 
Lodge in Sussex, which we bought. It was a 
pretty little place in a very pretty country. Here we 
stayed, Agnes with us, till June 1861, when my 
husband became First Sea Lord of the Admiralty, 
and we moved to the official house in New Street. 
Agnes went with her married sister to Gibraltar, and 
there she and Frank were married. 

There is not much to tell of our life from this time. 
We remained in New Street till July 1866. The work 
at the Admiralty was very interesting, and I believe 
well done. My husband thought very highly of the 
Duke of Somerset, both as to capacity and thorough 
honesty. During these years we saw a great deal of 
our relations and had very pleasant society. The 
holiday time was spent in Scotland in 1863, when we 
paid visits to Glenquoich, etc. 

In 1864 we went to Ireland — to Westport, the 
Killeries, and so to Muckross, where Frederick joined 
the Duke of Somerset, and later, the Admiralty yacht. 
We sold Bolney, and bought a piece of land at 
Sunninghill, where we started to build in 1865. 

About this time I began to get lame, and after 
suffering many things from man}^ doctors, and being 
none the better, went to Aix-la-Chapelle and Spa. 
I was laid up a long time ; meanwhile Lynwood w^as 
building. In July 1866 we left the Admiralty. We 
passed some time in visiting, staying at Buxton, then 
at Ventnor with my father, Howick, Kimpton, and at a 
house at Sunninghill lent us by Mr. Rothery, till we 
got into our own house on April 30, 1867. Here we 
lived quietly and happily for eleven years. In 
1869 we went to Norway to the Romsdal for 
fishing, Mr. Meynell Ingram giving us his fishing 
at Fiva. 

1878] DEATH OF SIR F. W. GREY 329 

1876. This year clouds began to gather. My sister- 
in-law was taken ill at Lynwood at Whitsuntide, and 
though she lived some years never enjoyed any health 
afterwards. We stayed five months at Howick with 
them, and in June 1877 my own troubles began. My 
husband became very ill; we were long at Howick, 
and then at Carlton House Terrace, for medical 

In 1878 the end came. 



[After her husband's death I think my aunt's greatest 
interest became centred in the younger generation, 
their upbringing, and their future. Even prior to her 
loss the idea of a Girls' Friendly Society occupied her, 
and I remember a small society was formed, consist- 
ing of myself, my cousins, and some of the servants 
in the service of different members of the family. 
We wore ivory crosses on a blue ribbon as a badge 
of membership, and subscribed to a few simple rules 
which were framed with the object of bringing the 
different classes together, and of encouraging them 
to help each other. Then she heard Mrs. Townsend 
was forming a society nearly akin to her first idea, 
and finally, my aunt's little band was merged in the 
larger body, which became the now well-known " Girls' 
Friendly Society." Both my aunt and uncle took a 
keen interest in this societ}^, which grew rapidly. 
Lady Grey was head of the department for " Help 
for Young Workwomen," in 1878. The site for the 
Central Home of Rest at Sunninghill was given by 
Sir Frederick Grey in April, 1878. He was very ill 
at the itime, and died in the following month. The 
Home was opened on July 20, 1878, by Archbishop 
Tait, my aunt being then head of the "Sick Members 
and Home of Rest Department," and so continued 
to be for several years. I think the work and the 



remembrance of her husband's keen interest in the 
movement during the last months of his life were a 
great alleviation to her in the first desolation of her 
bereavement. She and her husband had been seldom 
separated, and all their interests and pursuits were 
shared so closely and completely that the void, though 
great, was thus mercifully filled to some extent. 

She continued her connection with the Girls* 
Friendly Society for many years, being Vice- 
President from 1878 to 1883, and President of the 
Central Council from 1883 to 1889. 

Lady Grey, with the Secretary, Miss Wright, her 
friend and ever ready helper, laboured during the 
seven years of her presidency to deepen and con- 
solidate by wise restraint the work developed by the 
rapid growth of the previous years. 

A friend who served with her on the council tells 
me she was the first President of the Executive Council, 
and practically moulded and put the whole in working 
order ; that she was extraordinarily wise and just, 
but did not kindle enthusiasm. The latter I feel is 
true, for she saw too clearly both sides of every 
question, and was so open-minded to other people's 
convictions that she failed to carry any hesitating mind 
along with her. The same friend also said she thought 
her one of the cleverest, shrewdest, and most cultivated 
women she had ever known. 

During the years she was President of the Girls' 
Friendly Society she travelled a great deal in England, 
and on these excursions, as well as in the society itself, 
she met many people and made many friends. In her 
farewell address she said it was to the society she 
owed nearly all the friendships of her later years. 

She belonged for a short time to the " Mother's 
Union," a society in which she was much interested, 


though she never took any active or leading part in 
its work. She joined it too late in life to have been 
capable of working much in any way. 

At Fairmile, where she now lived, many of her 
old friends went to visit her, amongst others Sir 
Charles and Lady Bunbury, Mrs. Fanny Kemble, 
her brother-in-law Lord Grey, Mrs. Hugh Seymour, 
and many others. 

Among her neighbours were her old friend, Mrs. 
Charles Buxton at Fox Warren (who was indeed 
the cause of her choosing Fairmile as a home), 
Mr. and Mrs. Matthew Arnold, Admiral and Lady 
Louisa Egerton, the Dowager Lady EUesmere, Mr. 
Carrick Moore and his sisters, Mr. Vernon Lushing- 
ton, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Lushington, and Mr. 
and Mrs. Charles Earle. 

One visit of Mrs. Fanny Kemble's is very clearly 
fixed in my memory. It was in November, 1887. I 
was then young, and deeply attracted as well as 
attached to her. She was extremely kind to me, 
and when she wished to be kind and gracious no 
one could succeed better. She, my aunt and I, 
were often alone together, and every day she read 
to us a play or part of a play of Shakespeare's. 
One morning, 1 remember, she read us Henry VIII., 
and so superbly that we were reduced to a condition 
of nose blowing and red eyes, which made us feel 
quite uncomfortable when the very matter-of-fact man- 
servant opened the door and announced luncheon. 
Mrs. Kemble herself was overcome, and afterwards 
she told my aunt she had that very morning been 
reading over her letters and a journal she had kept 
in America just before her divorce. It was a curious 
coincidence, because, when I asked for Henry VIII., 
she hesitated, refused, and then, when I suggested 


another play, replied : " My dear, you shall have what 
you have asked for." 

I think it was the same evening Mr. Matthew 
Arnold came to tea. He and Mrs. Kemblc had a 
long conversation about the Shelleys : both had been 
reading Dowden's Life of Shelley. Mrs. Kemble re- 
membered Mary Shelley, had often seen and talked 
with her, and she related an interesting conversation 
on the education of her child, afterwards Sir Percy 

Mrs. Shelley said : " Tell me how shall I bring him 
up ? How shall I educate him ? What shall 1 teach 
him to think?" 

Mrs. Kemble replied : " What shall you teach him 
to think ? you mean how ? Teach him how to think 
for himself, that is the best education." 

Mrs. Shelley. " To think for himself, poor child ? 
God forbid!" 

This story Matthew Arnold quotes in his essay 
on Shelley, but without giving the name of his 

Mrs. Kemble described Mar}^ Shelley as very small, 
fair, fragile, and delicate-looking, having golden hair 
and pale eyes. Mr. Arnold said they were brown, 
at least that both Dowden and Shelley said so, 
quoting : 

Mary, dear, that thou wert here 
With thy brown eyes, etc. 

Mrs. Kemble maintained they were pale eyes — grey 
she thought — but certainly not dark eyes. Neither 
could succeed in convincing the other. 

Mr. Arnold expressed his great admiration for 
Mrs, Kemble's daughter, Mrs. Wister, both for her 
person and her intellect, and they discussed her 


character and abilities at great length. Later in the 
evening, when Mr. Arnold had left, Mrs. Kemble 
was loud in her praises of his charm and judgment. 
My aunt, who was secretly delighted at the successful 
meeting of her two friends, was silent for some 
minutes, and then dryly remarked : " Suppose he 
had not admired Sarah ! " at which we all burst 
out laughing. 

A very few months after this visit Mr. Arnold 
died suddenly, which evoked the following letter from 
Mrs. Kemble. 

From Mrs. Fanny Kemble to the Hon. Lady Grey 

26, Hereford Square, S.W. 
Thursday 29 (1888) 

My dear Barbarina, 

I cannot come to you, I am sorry to say, for 
I leave London for the Continent to-morrow, starting 
two days earlier than usual in order to meet a friend 
in Paris with whom I begin my Swiss journey. I 
regret very much not seeing you oftener, as the oftener 
I do see you the more valuable I find you. 

1 never write first though I always speak last, or I 
should have written to you when 1 heard of Matthew 
Arnold's death. I have thought of nobody so often 
as of you since that event, a grievous public and 
private loss by which your life has been impoverished. 
I never knew anybody so little that 1 liked so much, 
and would have held it honour and happiness to have 
had him for a friend — a man of rare moral and intellec- 
tual worth ; and what a neighbour for you ! 

Good-bye, my dear, if I come back alive and you 
wish for me, I will struggle to you, and am ever 
as ever, 

Affectionately yours, 

F. A. Kemble. 

In their early married days both my aunt and 
uncle were keenly interested in botan}^ and had 
made a joint collection of specimens both at Madeira 


and at the Cape. While at Madeira in 1854, they 
met Mr. (afterwards Sir Charles) Bunbury and his 
wife, and my aunt often referred to his kindness and 
helpfulness. In after years she and her husband were 
frequently at Barton, where she met Sir Joseph 
Hooker, and later still, when both were widows, she 
visited Lady Bunbury at Mildenhall. She told me 
Sir Charles particularly praised her powers of dis- 
section under a microscope and asked her to help 
him, and I remember her telling me of her delight 
when he and Lady Bunbury came to stay with her 
at P'airmile, in taking him to the haunts of some 
rare wild flowers she had discovered. One plant, the 
Hypericum elodes, he had not seen, I think, for 
thirty years, and was quite excited at meeting it 

Years after, when I was helping my little girl to 
collect wild flowers, she took us to the same spots. 
In the evening we classified the plants, the microscope 
was again brought out, and the specimens decided 
upon by dint of much communication on bits of paper, 
for she was then almost totally deaf. 

For several years my aunt practised what I must 
consider one of the greatest acts of self-denial and 
unselfishness I ever knew. For a month in the summer 
she filled her spare rooms with middle-aged or old 
women who had failed in the struggle for life, or who 
had known better days. This she did from a strict 
sense of duty, sharing her house and garden with them, 
and bestowing on them, what was even more precious 
to her, her time and attention. Only those who 
knew her can appreciate what this cost her, a person 
fastidious almost to a fault as regards appearance, 
manners, intellect, and general tone. Mercifully, how- 
ever, one lady, an old Polish governess, tried even the 


servants too highly, and the old housemaid, who had 
been with my aunt nearly thirty years, intimated that 
the household could no longer stand this lady's 
habits. " So," as my aunt said to me with a twinkle 
in her eye, "you see, the matter is taken out of my 
hands ! " 

As the years passed her life became much more 
lonely, she was more infirm, and less able to manage 
her lame leg, and became very deaf. Considering she 
had practically no control over her left leg, it was 
extraordinary how active she was. I remember our 
walks on Chobham Common with her and with my 
uncle when we were small children. We always 
divided into two parties : generally she and my two 
brothers on one side; my uncle Fritz — as we called 
him — myself, and their collie dog, Skye, on the other : 
both parties armed with shields of cardboard, and 
swords made of lathes. What ambushes were laid, 
what surprises, what meleesX They were the two 
most eager, delightful play-fellows children ever had. 

How well I remember crouching beside my uncle, 
the dog held down between us, in a breathless agony 
of excitement awaiting a surprise attack, or remaining 
till the enemy's party passed, when with a shout we 
sprang up and pursued them. Over the deep heather 
and rough ground my aunt would drag her weary leg 
for hours. She loved these wild walks. 

At Fairmile she continued them for many years. 
She told me she asked Sir Robert Collins (Comptroller 
of the household to H.R.H Duchess of Albany) if she 
might walk in some of the enclosed Crown woods. 
He said, "You may go anywhere you can!" little 
knowing my aunt or her love of adventure. Together 
we climbed ditches and squeezed through fences ; once 
she wanted to attack an oak paling, but I, fearing she 


might fall, refused to assist or follow, much to her 

I remember one day being really at my wit's end. 
Having descended into a deep ditch, she proceeded to 
scramble up the other side, which was crowned by 
a rather close wire fence, and, after many efforts, 
succeeded in sitting inside the paling, with her legs 
thrust through the wires, and hanging down into the 
ditch. Triumphant and panting, she declared she 
" must rest and get breath." After a few minutes I, 
under her directions, lifted her legs and pushed them 
through the paling, she "pivoting" round, and 
eventually, to her great triumph, she was, as she said, 
"all on the right side of the fence." 

It was a great sorrow to her when she gave up her 
yearly visit to Howick, but both she and Lord Grey 
had become so deaf she declared they could hold no 
communication with each other, and she was too old 
and infirm to be of much use to him. Until a very 
short time before his death they corresponded daily, 
and she looked forward eagerly to the " bit of paper " 
every morning from Howick. This bit of paper was 
almost entirely impersonal, being generally but a sort 
of running comment on public events. 

After the death of Matthew Arnold in 1888, and of 
Lord Grey in 1894, involving the loss of his letters, 
my aunt declared all her knowledge of what was doing 
in the world came to an end ; but to the very morning 
of her death she never relinquished her deep concern 
for public matters. 

Latterly her life became a very lonely one. Her 
deafness cut her off from all society, save the few 
relations or intimate friends who were willing to carry 
on a conversation through a speaking-tube, or by 
means of pencil and paper. 


She still kept up a voluminous correspondence. 
She wrote regularly once a week to a nephew in 
India, who replied quite as regularly, and very eagerly 
she looked for those weekly letters. She wrote also 
to many young men and women in all ranks of life 
with whom she had made acquaintance or come in 
contact, counselling them about their work, their 
difficulties, their health or other troubles, and I am 
sure, from my own experience, these letters were 
always wise and sympathetic. After her death I wrote 
to all these (to me personally unknown) friends, feel- 
ing it was cruel to let her disappear from their lives 
without a word or sign, and many of the answers I 
received were touching and grateful beyond words. 

She occupied some time in each day transcribing 
books into the Braille characters for the blind, and 
even corresponded with bhnd people in this way. 
She first took up this occupation in order to rest her 
eyes from incessant reading, but finally she became 
quite interested in it, and worked very quickly. 

She was, as a friend said to me the other day, cast 
in the heroic mould. During the last lonely years of 
her life, I marvelled greatly at the self-control and the 
cheerfulness she displayed ; I can scarcely recollect 
an impatient, and certainly never a complaining word. 
She cracked little jokes over her infirmities, and would 
laugh at the mistakes she made owing to :her deafness, 
or to her misunderstanding the few words she did 
hear, and she would frequently apologise for the 
trouble her stupidity caused to those around her. 

She was taken ill with pneumonia on March 15, 
1902, and I was summoned. My cousin, Mrs. Kitching, 
and I were with her until the end. 

On March 23, 1902, she died.] 


Aix-la-Chapelle, 58 

Alfred, Prince, 255 

Alnwick, 250 

Alston, Rowland, 73 

Ameses, the, 226, 227, 230, 239 

Apsley, Lady Catherine, 4 

Arnold, Dr., his Life, 223 ; 226, 297 

— Matthew, 332, 334, 337 
Arnoldo di Brescia, 194, 211, 213 
Asgill, Sir Charles, 8 

— Lady, 8 
Augusta, Princess, 155 

Baillie, Joanna, 30, 38, 41, 113, 

143, 152, 159, 215,243 
Balaclava, 284 
Balfour, Lady Blanche, no 
Bangor, 138 
Banks, Sir Joseph, 35 
Barret, R. A., 13 
Barrington, Lady Caroline, 215 
Bathurst, Lord Chancellor, 6 

— Lady, 4 

Baynes' Kloof, 302, 303 

Bayonne, 1 1 

Becher, Lady, 143 

Berg River, 324 

Berners, Dame Juliana, on Field 

Sports, 222 
Berri, Due de, 18, 54 
Berry, the Misses, 215 
Birmingham, 140 
Blackrock, 2 
Blacktown, 293 
Blake, Wm., 73, 74, 197, 209, 222, 

227, 228, 229. 

— Fanny, 197, 227 
Boldre, 12 
Bonomi, 13 

Boscawcn, H.M.S., 229, 322, 326, 

Bourbon, 309 
Bourchier, Sir T., 202, 207, 209, 


— Lady, 200, 202 209, 2 1 1 

Bouverie, Hon. Fredk. Pleydell, 2 

— Hon. Edward, 8 

— Hon. Mrs. Edward (see Hon. 
Mrs. Robert Talbot) 

Bovvood, 178, 188 
Boyle, Lord, 123 

— Lady, 123, 130 

— Mrs. Charles, 294, 297 
Brand, Thomas, 118, 155, 228, 

237, 261 
— Mrs. Thomas, 155, 228, 236, 237, 

Brocket, 168, 248 
13rougham, Lord, 18, 46, 48 

— Wm., 72 

Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 103, 

112, 114, 115, 142 
Bunbury, Sir H., 207, 209, 211 

— Lady, 209, 211 

— Sir Charles, 208, 225, 332, 335 
Bunsen, Chevalier, 227 
Burghersh, Priscilla, Lady, 165 
Buxton, Mrs. Charles, 184, 192, 

206, 225, 233, 332 
Byron, Lord, 20, 21, 22, 196, 245 

— Lady, 243 

Callcott, Sir Augustus, 113, 215 
— ■ Lady, 178, 199 
Cambridge, 36 

Camden, Lord Chancellor, 3, 5 
Campbell, Lady, 135, 136 
Capel Curig, 138, 139, 140 
Cape of Good Hope, 262, 290 

— Point, 298, 300, 326 

— Town, 290, 291, 300 
Cappoquin, 122, 131 
Cardiff, 119 
Cardigan, Lord, 281 
Cardington, 220 

Caroline of Brunswick, Queen of 
England, 38 ; her funeral, 40 

Carr, Miss (Mrs. Lusliington), 39, 
40, 41 

Carton, 137 




Castle Martyr, 121, 123, 124, 129 
" Champ et le Laboureur, Le," 23 
Chantrey, F. L., 18 
Chapone, Mrs., 32 
Charterhouse, the, 164, 218 
Cheam, 12, 91, 96, 99, 104, 154, 

174, 178 
Chepstow, 1 1 8 
Chesterfield Street, 102, 201, 234, 

261, 263 
Chorley, Henry, 142 
Christopher, Capt. A. S., 5 
Clarendon's " History of his own 

Times," 169, 171 
Cloete, Laurence, 2, 320, 322 
Cobbett, Wm., 97 
Codrington, Adl. Sir E., 202, 208 

— Maria, 202, 208 

— General Sir W., 148, 151, 205, 
207, 230, 284 

— Lady, 207, 230 

— H., 209 

Colbourne, Ridley, 69 
Colbournes, the, 206, 209 
Combe Florey, 81, 223 
Comeragh Mountains, 121, 131 
Constantinople, 282, 284, 287 
Cook, Capt., 34 

Cork, 123, 124, 129 

Crimea, the war declared, 279, 

283, 290 
Croker, Rt. Hon. J. VV., 67 
Crystal Palace, 262, 263 
Cunard, Mr., 179 
Cunningham, Allan, 44, 45 
Custine, 33, 34 

Dacre, Lord, 7 ; at Mayence, 33 ; 
34 ; at Cambridge, 36 ; 37, 50, 
67. 78, 79, 89, 93, 95 ; his health, 
97 ; 105, III, 118, 161, 162, 164, 
168 ; his character, 169 ; 186, 191, 
195, 237, 239, 242, 253, 256, 258, 
259 ; his death, 261 ; 262 

— Lady, 3, 8, 9, 10, 11, 13, 15, 17; 
dramas, etc., 19; appearance, 
20 ; tour abroad, 50 ; 62, 72, 73, 
translations, 90; 118; "Frogs 
and Bulls," 152; translations, 
^54; i55> 159. 160, 161, 162; 
her fables, 171 ; 183, 192, 195, 
297 ; her models, 214 ; transla- 
tions, 217 ; 225, her acting, 227 ; 
234, 235, 236, 239, 240, 251, 252, 
259, 269 ; sonnets, 272 ; 274 ; her 
death, 280. 

Danesbury, 223 

Dante, 49, 116; Ugolino, 260 

Darrican, M., 309, 310 

Derrynane, 128 

Dickens, Charles, " Chimes," 230, 

258, 259 
Disa grandiflora, the, 319 
Doyle, Sir Francis, 146 
Dromana, 131 

Drummond, Mrs., 208, 209, 216 
Drury Lane, 19, 29 
Dryden's " Theodore and Hon- 

oria," 28 
Dublin, 133 
Dufferin, Lord, 240, 242, 243 

— Lady, 25, 240, 243, 246, 248 
Dungarvon, 122 

Dunmore, 121 
Dunstable, 141 

Eagle's Nest, 125, 129 
Eden, Hon. Mr. and Mrs., 119 
Edgeworth, Maria, 44, 153, 202, 

207 ; Life of her father, 233 
Edi7tbtcrgh Review, 113, 224 
Egerton, Lady Francis, (Countess 

of Ellesmere), 151, 174 
Einsiedlen, 55 
Ember Court, 2, 208, 234 
" English Bards and Scotch Re- 
viewers," 22 
"Eothen," 233 

Fairmile, 332, 336 

Fanshawe, Miss Catherine, 19, 20 ; 

Riddle of the letter H, etc., 21 
Faraday, Michael, 209 
Farming Woods, 185, 188 
Farn borough, 3, 4, 6 

— Place, 3, 4 
Farquhar, Sir Thomas, 69 
Farquhars, the, 203, 211, 225, 226, 

Faucit, Miss, 148 
Finch, Lady Charlotte, 6 
" Finden's Tableaux," 142 
Fish Hoek Bay, 295, 298 
Flaxman, 18 
Fordham, King, 73 
Forstcr, J. R., 33, 34, 35 
" Fortunes of Nigel," 45 
Foscolo, Ugo, 19, 48 
Fouqu6's (La Motte) " Undine," 

233 ; " Sintram," 233 
Fox, Miss, 78, 100, 104, 113, 154, 

163, 167, 178, 233 



"Frogs and Bulls," 152, 219 
Froude's "History of Henry VIII.," 

Fulham, 105 

Gap of Dunlow, 127, 128 
Garrick, David, 3, 4, 5, 208 
Gaspannetto, 48 
George III., 6 
G6rard, 53 
Gibraltar, 274 
Gifford, VVm., 22 
Gilpin, Dr. Richard, 12 

— Wm., 12, 13, 14 

— Sawrey, 12, 13, 15, 16 
Girls' Friendly Society, the, 330 
Glena Mountain, 126 
Glenbervie, Lord, 18 

Goethe, 35 ; " Sorrows of Werther," 
214; "Hermann and Dorothea," 
224 ; " Wilhelm Meister," 253 

Gontaut, la Duchesse de, 18, 53 

Goodrich Castle, iig 

Gore, Mrs., 145 

Graham, Sir J., 72 

Grey, ist Earl, 18 

— 2nd Earl, 70, 78, 105, iii, 148, 
150, 164, 235 

— Countess, 78, 107, 148, 215, 238, 
254, 255, 256 

— 3rd Earl (Lord Howick), 66, 68, 
69, 70, 71, 112, 201, 202, 235, 
236, 250, 269, 332, 337 

— Countess (Lady Howick), 202, 


— General Hon. Sir Harry, 68, 69, 

— Hon. Lady, 69, 79, 204, 233 

— Barbarina, Hon. Lady, 50, 76, 
99, 148, 152, 167, 169, 178, 179, 
188, i8g, 192, 197; translation 
of Petrarch, 217; theatricals, 
227, 233, 234; marriage, 235; 
238, 248, 252, 259, 262, 264, 267; 
her novel, 269; illness, 274, 275; 
at Madeira, 279 ; her journal 
begins, 290 

— General Hon. Sir Charles, 134, 
136, 250, 251, 274 

— Admiral Hon. Sir Fredk. Wm. 
235, 236, 250, 252, 262, 264, 276 
appointed to tlie Hafiniba/, 279 
attains flag rank, 281, 285 
knighted, 290 ; 298, 299, 300, 
322 ; first Sea Lord, 328 ; his 
death, 329; 330, 336 

Grey, Lady Georgiana, 81, 107, 
III, 148, 215, 255 

— Sir George, 290, 291, 300 

— Lady, 291, 294 
Grisi, Carlotta, 211 

Hale, William, 2, 72 

— Mrs., 2, 151, 181, 265 
Hambledon, 7 
Hampton Court, 17, 257 
Hannibal^ H.M.S., 279, 280, 281, 

283, 284 
Harness, Rev. William, 21, 114, 

115, 116, 161 
Hatfield House, 19, 108 
Ilemans, Mrs., 142 
Hertford, 73 
Hibbert, Nathaniel, 184, 186, 187, 

191, 205, 225, 229, 237, 262 

— Mrs. Nath., 99, 184, 186, 187, 
191, 205, 213, 217, 219, 222, 225, 
229, 237, 241, 262, 272 

Hitchin, 112, 220 
Hoets Bay, 300, 319 
Holland, Lord, 100, 167, 188 

— Lady, loi, 167, 168, 188, 203 

— Sir H., 205, 234 

— Lady (Saba), loi, 190, 191, 
205, 213, 241 

— Emily(see Mrs. Charles Buxton 
Holland House, 100, 167 

Little, 100 

Hoo, the, 19, 33, 87, 108, 159, 184, 

197,225 ; theatricals at, 227 ; 261 
Hoppner, 17 
" Hoppy," 4 
Hougoumont, 165 
Howick, 18, 159, 234, 235, 237, 

269, 290, 303, 327, 337 

— Lord (see 3rd Earl Grey) 

— Lady (see Countess Grey) 

— Grange, 235, 261, 263, 274 
Huber, 34, 35 

— Mrs., 34, 35 
Hunt, Leigh, 245 
Huskisson, Mr., 89 
Hyde, the, 200, 227 

Indian Mutiny, 294 
Inkerman, heights of, 284 
Innisfallen, 125 
Ireland, 201, 328 
Irish tour, 103, 1 18 

" Jane Eyre," 244 
Johanna Island, 214 



Kaffir women, 296 

Kemble, Charles, ig, 65, 66, 194 

— Fanny, 66, 70, 72, 179, 194, 
244, 246, 249, 332, 334 

— John, 194 
Kennicott, Dr., 4 

— Mrs., 4 

Kent, Duchess of, 155 
Kenyon, Mr., 113, 114, 115, 116 
Keppel, Hon. Sir Harry, 283, 294, 

Kilkenny, 133 
Killarney, 124 
Kimpton, 61, 72, 83, 106, 159, 

189, 328 
Kingstown, 135, 189 
King's Walden, 2, 220, 227, 265 
Kirkley, 115, 234 
Klopstock, 214 
Knebworth, 195 

" Lalla Rookh," 232 
Lamb, Charles, 193 
Landseer, Sir Edwin, 12, 113, 209, 

Lawrence, Sir Thomas, 256 
Lees, Sir John, 2 
Leesons, the Wm., 134, 135, 137 
Leicester, Countess of, 152, 213, 

214, 220 
Leinster, Duke and Duchess of, 

137, 149 
Leopardi, 260 
Le Sueur, Mr., 303 
Lismore, 122 
Livingstone, Dr., 298 299 
Llangollen, 140 
Lockhart's " Life of Sir W. Scott," 

45, 217, 218 
Lockhart, Mrs., 143 
Lough's Studio, 212 
Louis Philippe, 246 
Lowry's Pass, Sir, 321 
Lushington, Mr. Edward, 38, 39, 

40, 41 
Lynedoch, Lord, 50, 51, 57, 61, 62, 

63, 64, 65, 141, 207 
Lyons, Admiral Sir E., 285 
Lytton, Sir E. Bulwer, 117, 195, 

196, 213, 257 

Macaulay, Lord, 201, 224; "Es- 
says," 232 ; " Lays," 234 
Macgillicuddy Recks, 128 
MacGregor, Sir Malcolm, 288, 289 
Macleod, the Misses, 221 

Madagascar, 310; harbour of Tam- 

atave, 310; the Hovas, 313 
Madeira, 279, 280, 299 
Malta, 287 
" Man without a name. The," 269, 

Manzoni, 252, 260 
Marcet, Mrs., 192, 223 
Mars, Mile., 64 
Martens, the, 213, 225, 226 
Martineau, Harriet, 199, 226 
Matthew, Father, 201 
Matthias, T. J., 19 
Maurel, Jules, on the Duke of 

Wellington, 277 
Mauritius, 303, 304 ; La Sucrerie, 

305 ; Vanilla growing, 308 
Mayence, 33, 34 
Melbourne, Lord, 18, 35, 69, 72, 

92, 150, 248 
Menai Straits, 138, 189 
Mends, Captain, 286 
Milford Haven, 120 
Milmans, the, 113, 147, 216 
Mitford, Miss, 19, 112, 142, i6l 
Moffat, Mr., 299 
Monmouth, 119 
Monti's Sonnet, 47 
Moore, Sir John, 61 

— Thomas, 30 
More, Hannah, 3 
Morgan, Lady, 134, 136 
Morley, Countess of, 203, 205, 

209, 213, 268, 269, 272, 295 
Morpeth, Lord, 134, 135, 136 
Morris, Caroline, 4, 6 
- — Col. Valentine, 3 
Muckross, 127, 328 
Mulgrave, Lord and Lady, 134, 

Mulso, Mrs., 31, 32 

— " Hecky," 32 

— Rev. John, 32 

Munden, 184, 186, 187, 189, 191, 

192, 193, 219, 234 
Murray, John, 68, 69, 79, 80 

Newcastle, 250, 254, 255 
Nicholson, Sir Fredk., 207 
Nicolini, 21 1, 213 
Norton, Hon. Mrs., 25, 69, 72, 96, 
243, 245 

O'Connell, D., 27, 128, 200, 201, 
Ogle, Arabella (see Hon. Mrs. 
Robert Talbot) 



Ogle, Barbarina (see Lady Dacre) 

— Sir Chaloner, 8, 31 

— Sir Charles, 9, 205, 270 

— Hester (see Mrs. Sheridan) 

— James, 9 

— Sukey, 30 
Oxford, 118 

" Oysters and Flowers," 249 

Paarl, the, 300 

Palermo, 274 

Paley, on the Jewish Sabbatli, 220 

Palmerston, Lord, 210 

— Lady, 210 

Panizzi, 93, 99, 194, 211, 213 

Panshanger, 126 

Pascal, 224 

Peel, Sir Robert, 67, 69, 92, 256 

" Peerage and Peasantry, Tales 

of," 75. 76 
Penn, Mr. G., 5, 6 
Pestalozzi, 214 
Petrarch, Translations from, 19, 

49, 91, 95, 98, 105, 115, 211 ; 

"Trionfo d'Amore," 217 

— Essays on, 19 
Philadelphia, 179, 181 
"Pickwick Papers," 155 
Piercefield Park, 3 
"Pique and Repique," 226 
Pleuvault, Marquis de, 54 
Powell, Capt., 310, 314, 327 
Prince Consort, the, 210, 215, 250, 

Prince Imperial, the French, 287 
Protea, the, 294 

Quarterly Review, 147 
Queen Victoria (see Victoria) 

Radnor, Lord and Lady, 203 

Raglan, Lord, 284, 285 

" Recollections of a Chaperon," 

75. 271 
Reform Bill, the, 65, 67, 68 
Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 5, 13, 208 
Rogers, Samuel, 215 
Ross Castle, 125, 127 
Rostellan, 123, 130 
Rouen, 51, 53 

Royal Albert, H.M.S., 285, 286 
Russell, Lord John, 66 

St. Alban's Abbey, 222 
St. Cloud, 53 
St. Denis, 52 

St. Germains, 51 
Salisbury, Lord, 67, 73, ill 

— Lady, 68, 89, 109, 1 1 1 

— Lady, 149, 187 
Sandilli, 292 

Sant James, R.A,, 247 

Sartoris, Mrs., 202, 211 

Scaleby Castle, 12 

Schiller, 35, 233 

Schlegei, 253 

Scott, Sir V\'altcr, 22, 45, 143, 153 

Sebastopol, 283, 284 

Seton, Mrs. Elizabeth S., 3, 5, 6 

Seymour, Sir George H., 193 

— Lady, 193 

Siiakespeare, 193 ; statues of his 

characters, 212 ; 253, 332 
Slielley, Mary, 333 
Sheridan, Charles, 27, 41, C7 

— R. B , 18, 19, 25 ; Life of, 30 

— Mrs. R. B. (Hester), 18, 25 

— Thomas, 25, 27 
Shirley's Poems, 190 
Siddons, Mrs., 19, 194 
Simon's Bay, 293, 303, 322, 325, 

Slave brig taken, 325 
Smith, Bobus, 75, 79, 90, 94, 98, 

113, 154, 162, 166, 174,175, ^n^ 

181, 183, 185, 186, 188, 190, 
193, 204, 208, 233, 255, 256 

— Rev. Sydney, 81, 96, 144, 167, 
188, 190, 202, 209, 212, 233 

— Vernon, loi 

— Mrs. Vernon, 78, loi, 190 
Snowdon, 139 

Somerset, Duchess of, 25, 241 

— Duke of, 328 
Sopwell, 222 

Sotheby, V\'m., 22, 42, 147, 253 

Southill, 17 

Stael, Mme. de, 207; her "Alle- 

magne," 214 
Stanficld, C, 193 
Stanley, Lord (14th Earl of 

Derby), 67, 69, 201 
Stellenbosch, 320, 322 
Stewart, Adl. Sir Houston 174, 

280, 281, 283, 284, 287 

— Lady, 174, 280, 281, 287 
Stoke, 5, 6 

Stony Stratford, 141 
Stopibrd, Capt,, 287, 289 
Stratford de Redcliffe, Lord, 289 
Stuart, Mr. Villiers, 122, 131 
Sugar making, 306 



Sullivan, Arthur, 2, 73 

— Benjamin, i 

— Bertram, 61, 83, 112 

— Brand F., 50, 148, 152, 155, 


— Charles, 2 

— Edward, 2, 208, 267 

— Frederick, Rev., 2, 5, 7, 50, 61, 
65, 66, 68, 70, 103 ; offered living 
of Fulham, 105; 118, 159, 162, 
167, 178, 218, 228, 235, 239, 
253, 265, 271 

— Mrs. Fredii. (Arabella Wilmot), 
3, 7, 50; letters from abroad, 51, 
62 ; letters to her husband, 65, 
85, 96, 102, 103, 112, 113; 
journal, 118; letter on the Coro- 
nation, 148; 154; her death, 
159; 165. 

— Mrs. Fredk. (Emily Ames), 178, 
218, 228 ; illness, 232 ; 235, 237, 
253, 265, 271, 275 

— Francis W.,83, 112, 164, 212, 
218, 253, 261, 263, 274, 276, 
285, 298, 320, 322, 327 

— Gertrude, 2, 60, 152, 178, 193, 
196; her journal, 197; illness, 
232 ; death, 234 ; 255 

— Henry, 2 

— Henry Eden, 83, 164, 198, 212, 
253, 262, 275 

— John, I 

— Richard, 2 

— Richard Joseph, i 

— William, 2, 50, 179, 199 

— Lady, 2, 50 

— Lady, 208 
Sunninghili, 328 
Sutton, Sir Thomas, 29 
Swansea, 120 

Table Mountain, 299, 302, 319 
Talbot, Hon. Robert, 9, 205 

— Hon. Mrs. Robert, 8, 9, 10, 18, 
205, 252, 266, 276 

" Tales of the Peerage and Pea- 
santry," 75 

Talfourd, Mr. Serjeant, 18 

Talleyrand, 8i 

Taylor's (Jeremy) Sermons, 1 53 

Taylor, Robert, 2 

Tennyson, Lord, 244 

Thomas, John, Bishop of Win- 
chester, 8, 32 

Thomond, Lord, 123, 130 
Tintern Abbey, 119 
Trappist monastery, 131 
Turk Mountain, 125 

— Lakes, 125, 129 
Tyny Maes, 138 

Van der Byl, Mr., 323 

Vanilla growing, 308 

Vestris, Mile., 71, 213 

Victoria, Queen, 148, 1 50, 155, 

210, 250, 253, 262 
Vincennes, 53 

Waterford, 121 
Waterloo, 60, 165, 256 
Waterloo Bridge, opening of, 

Wedd, — , 74 
Wellington, Duke of, 18, 89, 92, 

150, 151, 165, 256, 262,274, 277 
Wellington, 301 
Westmacott, Sir R., 206, 208, 209, 

211, 270 

Whately's " Errors of Romanism," 

222 ; friendship with Dr, Arnold, 

Wheathampstead, 84 
Wheatstone, Sir Charles, 2og, 216 
Whitbread, Samuel, 13, 17, 29, 

78, 202. 
Whitbreads, the, 203, 211, 220, 

258, 262, 270 
W^ilmot, Arabella (see Mrs. Fredk. 


— Henry, 3, 4, 5, 6 

— Mrs. Henry, 5, 6 

— Valentine Henry, 3, 4, II, 17 

— Mrs. V. H. (see Lady Dacre) 
Wilshire, Mr. and Mrs., 214 
Windsor, 53 

Wood, Sir Charles, 72, 215 

— Lady Mary, 215 

Wortley, Hon. James, 136, 225, 

226, 227, 229, 231 
Wurmser, 33, 61 
Wyatt, M. C, 165 
Wye, 119 

Youghall, 123 

Young, Mr., 113, 194, 216 

Zandvliet, 2, 320, 322, 325, 326 
Zoffany, 13 

Printed by Hasell, IVatson 6* Viney, Ld., London and AyUsbuty. 


Los Angeles 
This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 




FEB 5 1S80 

Form L9-50m-ll, '50 (2554)444 

niK Ur?RAKY 


Lyster - 
A family 




3 1158 00513 0074 



AA 000 391 679