Miss Eden's Letters

E. E.

Miss Eden to Miss Villiers

DUBLIN,

Monday, September 17, 1827.

MY DEAREST THERESA, I am as sleepy as a horse, or whatever is the right comparison, but time is so scarce you must take me as you can have me. Actually in Dublin, Miss Villiers. – Landed yesterday morning at ten; embarked at six the evening before; cabin to ourselves; favourable wind; silent captain; no fleas; sea smooth as glass; and I sick as a dog.

There was not the least excuse for it, but I cannot help it. I kept up beautifully the first three hours, and then George would make me go and look at the beautiful cabin, and taste the excellent coffee; and of course the motion of the beautiful cabin disagreed with the excellent coffee – and there was an end of me. We all went regularly to bed, but that did not profit much, as there were above a hundred Irish haymakers in the other part of the vessel, and by a singular hazard they were all musical, and all hundred sang all night. However, George dragged me on deck again early in the morning, and then I got better, and it was a beautiful morning, and the bay of Dublin is (as you have probably heard) a beautiful sight, and altogether I never made a voyage of less suffering.

We are in a very comfortable hotel, the master of which is notorious for a passion for old plate, and everything we touch is silver, and such beautiful embossed articles. But it is actually tiresome, everything is so heavy and metallic. George says he never was so tired of silver since all his early reading about Peru; but it is an odd expensive taste for an hotelkeeper, and he has indulged it many years.

George dined at Mr. Lamb’s²⁶⁰ yesterday, and seems to have met a very amusing Irish party. I sent my excuse and went to bed, as I do not think my health is up both to sights and society, and I like the first best. We have had such a nice day to-day. Went early to visit Mr. Lamb and see the Phoenix Park, and then down to Woodlands, a beautiful villa with a famous glen, etc., then to the Liffey waterfall, which was so very pretty, and I sat there for two hours and drew it, while George rambled about and read, and at last found such an amusing Irishman to talk to us, so like old Thady, or any other of Miss Edgeworth’s people. I cannot help laughing all the time they speak (merely at the look and brogue, not at what they say). Then we went to a cottage for some eggs and bacon, and came back by another road to Dublin.

To-morrow we dine at Mr. Lamb’s, and the next day go for a three days’ tour to the County of Wicklow, etc.; come back here for a night, and then go to Pamela. I do so enjoy it all. I am afraid after we have done Pamela, and fallen into the hospitalities of Lady Glengall, Lord Kingston, etc., who all seem most dreadfully well disposed to us, I shall like it less…

I never saw such a jaunting-car nation. The middle ranks seem to live in those vehicles, and the common people pass their days apparently sitting smoking at the doors of their cabins, the children with hardly as much cloathes on as a decent savage wears. Such groups we saw to-day! I feel much more in a foreign country than I should at Calais, and am only preserved from that illusion by the whistling of “Cherry-Ripe” which all the little naked Lazzaroni keep up.

Knowsley was full of people, we were generally thirty-four at breakfast, and I suppose more at dinner, but Lady Derby²⁶¹ would not let me dine down above once. We had the greatest difficulty in getting away, and she kindly invited me if I felt worse to come back and die respectably at Knowsley. Poor Fanny was horribly low when we came away at being left; but I have no doubt is as happy as the day is long by this time. There is going to be a Fancy Ball, and a musical festival, and all sorts of things, and there is no denying that our friend Lady Derby is a most agreeable person.

I enclose a letter I have had from Sister to-day, not because you will not have heard all about poor dear Amabel, but it contains an atrocity of Sarah’s about the funeral, hardly credible when one thinks of Lord Goderich this time twelve months. My four writing sisters are all in different parts of England and all expecting letters, the more because I am travelling about and have less time to write. Your most affectionate

E. E.

Miss Eden to Lady Campbell

BESSBOROUGH,

Tuesday, October 30, 1827.

MY DEAREST PAM, We shall actually sail to-night, and perhaps it will be economical in the long run; for I have been very sick the last three days hearing the wind blow, and the packet talked of. But it is like leaving you all over again. You know we never shall meet again, I know we shan’t – I am grown quite desperate about it, and, as I cannot get at you and cannot do without you, I am rather puzzled as to what will be the result. I must take up the thread of my discourse where we left off.

I was so horribly low after you went, stayed an hour in my own room which, as that pinafore’d housemaid had forgotten to do it out, is I suppose the strongest proof of friendship I could have given. Then the day cleared up, and my headache cleared up, and Lady Glengall²⁶² took me to see the platting school. I am quite vexed you did not see that; it is such a gratifying sight, and curious besides. While we were there, a policeman came up to Lady Glengall: “Me lady, where will we put Connell?” “Who’s Connell?” “Why, the stiff, me lady. Where will we put him convanient for the coroner?” So she went off to make poor Connell convanient, and I to sketch the castle, and while I was there Connell’s procession came over the bridge. Such a howling!

Lord Arthur Hill and Mr. Carnegie dined there that day. The next day we went to the review, after sundry demurs on the part of her Ladyship; but I think she has at last made up her mind to make up her quarrel with the regiment, and in proof thereof, Carnegie and Ford again graced the festive board at Cahir with their presence. The sight of all those grey horses and red men at full gallop, and that beautiful band which played to us afterwards, increased my military ardour into perfect heroism. Sir Charles²⁶³ was more Sir Charlesey than ever! I quite agree with old Lord Donoughmore,²⁶⁴ who is a Penruddock jewel of a man, a sort of bourreau bienfaisant, and who observed, when we told him Sir Charles could not come to Knocklofty till the following day, “Well then, you must do without a Tom-fool for one day – eh?” Make Lord Arthur show you Lord Donoughmore – I mean act him. Before we went to Knocklofty on Wednesday, Lady Glengall drove me to Ardfinan, and there did we discuss Brooke²⁶⁵ and his intentions, and she declares he is desperately in love with Miss Acton, and is only by way of moping at Cahir. Think of being Brooke’s moping house!

You do not know me, Pam, you do not value me. Lady Glengall knows me better – she is after all the friend of my heart. I never was so praised alive as I was that day. I may have “Richard”²⁶⁶ only for the asking. In fact there is nothing wanting but just his consent and mine – absolute trifles. I observe those ladies who have been addicted to flirting never believe that any woman under 60 can be without some little interest of that sort; and I cannot help thinking that I am suspected at Cahir of being engaged to Lord Henry Thynne. It was that Brooke’s innuendos led me to the suspicion, and something Lady Glengall said might have meant it. However, I do not know. Only, if you hear me accused of that crime – and she means to see a great deal of you – will you have the kindness to mention that I am neither engaged nor attracted to poor dear Lord Henry, or any other individual? I do not mind their saying so, if it amuses them, but only Brooke must not go trumpeting about fancying I am pining, or ought to be pining, for dear Lord Henry, who is an excellent child, and if he came in my way I think his education might be finished about the time your Pam²⁶⁷ would be coming out, but in the meantime I have never aspired to any other post than being his confidante. Perhaps I mistook Lady Glengall’s hints, for the fact is she seems to know so much more about me than I do about myself, that I am quite puzzled and diffident about my own historical facts. But I think this is a point on which I am best informed of the two. If I am engaged to anybody it would be fair to tell me, that I might act the character better. However, I must say I like Lady Glengall much better than is convenient, and the girls²⁶⁸ are perfect, and I liked our Cahir visit – and she appreciates you properly.

Oh, Pam! how horrid it is to think that we parted there, because you are such a treasure to me, and we are going to lead the rest of our lives apart. I feel exactly as if this were my last Will and Testament. Mind you consider it as such!

I am as low as a cat this morning. I wonder whether we shall come over again either next year or the year after. Knocklofty was pleasant enough; old Donoughmore is such a duck, and there were two pretty nieces and a sub-nephew, and Tom-fool and Lord Arthur [Hill]. We stayed two nights instead of one, as there were no post horses to be had. Lady Duncannon²⁶⁹ got home quite safe and is looking very well again – more like Mary [Drummond] than ever amongst her nine present children, and talking of her three absent ones, and nursing up her thirteenth. I have quite recovered my intimacy with her, and tell her as usual of all things. She says she was so ill at Cahir she hardly knew how to sit up.

I must go and see after that eternal packing. George says that even if it is the Meteor, a packet which, as far as I understand, is in every respect unsafe and uncomfortable, we must sail to-night. So I look upon myself as food for fishes, and as he must be lost with me, I shall not have the fun of gliding about as a grisly ghost and standing at his feet… Your own affectionate

E. EDEN.

God bless you, my darling! My love to Sir Guy – his picture has travelled hitherto with the greatest success.

Miss Eden to Miss Villiers.

Stackpole, Pembrokeshire,

Saturday, November 3, 1827.

MY DEAREST THERESA, I never should wonder if you had thought me idle about writing. It would have been a terrible proof of the fallibility of your judgment if you had. I might as well have attempted to build a house as to keep up a correspondence during the active life I have been leading. I was once in hopes of tiring you out, and that you would write again without waiting for me, but we know each other too well. I was thinking the other day that it is unpleasant to reflect how well you know me, and how thoroughly I know you. No means of taking each other in, no little scenes, no explanations, no nothings.

My dear, such a happy six weeks as I have passed! I am so fond of Ireland. I have made 44 sketches and an equal number of new friends, am grown quite strong and well, and I have had nearly three weeks of dear old Pam’s society. Besides paying her a visit, she went with us to Mount Shannon, and met us again at Cahir, thereby taking out the sting of my visit to Lady Glengall, who, par parenthèse, I must mention is now the friend of my heart. You all of you do very well for the common friendships of life, but in Ireland only has the whole extent of my merit been discovered. Seriously, Lady Glengall continued to make her house very pleasant. There was nothing she did not do to make Pamela and me comfortable there; arranged all sorts of picturesque expeditions. Lord Glengall gave us quite a pretty little fête at a cottage they have on their estate; we were out every day from breakfast-time to eight o’clock dinner, and then we had very good society in the evening – and Lord Glengall is very civil in his own house. It seemed hardly worth while coming to Tipperary, or County ‘Prary, as the natives call it, when half of us belonged to Grosvenor Street and might have met at the expense of calling a coach.

Mr. B. Greville had been at Cahir ten weeks, all the county supposing he meant to marry Lady Charlotte, but the Glengalls all declare he is only by way of pining after Miss Acton. I could not make it out, nor could Pamela; only it was obvious that Lady Charlotte would not have had him if he had asked her. She and Lady Emily are two of the nicest girls I ever saw, and a melancholy proof of the uselessness of education – I mean melancholy for my dear sisters, who are slaving their lives away at education. They cannot wish for nicer daughters than the Butlers.

Altogether I liked Cahir. Killarney was one of the most satisfactory visits we paid; the lakes far surpassed even the extravagant expectation I had formed, and then the Kenmares²⁷⁰ are such charming people. However I will not write to you any more of my raptures; you will be bored to death. Perhaps you had rather hear that I had three days of extreme bore at Mitchell’s – in the midst of all this enjoyment, – Lord Kingston’s. Last Tuesday we crossed from Waterford to Milford. Oh, Theresa, such a passage! “If ever I do a good-natured thing again,” as Liston²⁷¹ says. Pamela may stay in Ireland to all eternity, and she need not ask me to come and see her. At all events, she must not mention it for a month; I shall be at least that time forgetting my sufferings. Even George owns to having passed a miserable night, and he has always despised my sea terrors, and the captain called it a very rough passage, so a very simple arithmetical process will enable you to calculate the sufferings of the passengers. Take the sum of the captain’s assertions, multiply by 500, etc., etc.

The Cawdors had sent out the Custom House cutter to take the chance of meeting us, and that landed us within four miles of their house; so we were here at half-past-two. Our carriage did not arrive till ten at night. It was very attentive of them to send out the cutter, but if ever I willingly go again into cutter, steamboat, barge, wherry – . Well, I’m alive, and that is wonderful. The Duncannons fortunately made us stay an extra day with them, for the packet in which we were to have crossed originally, after beating about Milford for twelve hours, was obliged to put back again. “What a narrow escape I have had,” George says, “of never seeing my native country again. I suppose if we had been in that packet you would have insisted on settling in Ireland, and I must have done so too!”

This is a very fine place and a comfortable house. It seems odd to be restored to a quiet English country-house life. I have lost the habit of going to sit in my own room, and cannot conceive why we do not breakfast early and go off after some distant lake or ruin. However, Elizabeth and I were out sketching most part of yesterday, and are going again to-day, and George has at last had two days’ shooting. Think of his not having had a day’s shooting till the 1st of November! And he actually looks over my sketch-book every evening and comments upon it with the greatest interest. In another month I should have taught him to sketch himself.

We stay here a week, and then go to Mr. Wall’s.²⁷² Direct to Grosvenor Street as the safest plan. What do you say about Sarah?²⁷³ We have all a great deal of unbelief to repent of. She was really in great danger for some hours, but is now as well as possible, Sister tells me in her letter to-day. Only – Sarah does not believe it. Fanny is at Knowsley, and they have been very gay there. No more time. I wonder where you are, but suppose Knightsbridge to be a safe direction. What a deal we shall have to talk about! I kept a journal, thinking as I could not write to all my friends I would let them see my Irish ideas in that form; but it degenerated after the first week into personalities, and is unshowable. Ever your most affectionate

E. E.

Miss Eden to Miss Villiers

Langley Farm [Beckenham],

Sunday [November], 1827.

MY DEAREST THERESA, How d’ye do? I hope you have had your health better, Ma’am. I took to fretting about your having returns of pain in your head, but if ever I tried to say you had not been quite so well, everybody screamed out, “Oh yes, I am happy to tell you that Miss Villiers is quite well, never was so well. She has danced at a ball, and written an opera, and is perfectly well indeed.” So I give it up. But are you really quite well, and where are you? I shall send this to your brother George, who is in town, as with infinite promptitude I conjectured, from seeing him at the Play with such a regular London party, such pomp and circumstance of hats and feathers, and Clanwilliams and Jerseys. I did not like the looks of them after the simple unadorned uncloathed Irish, but I did not see any of them to speak to.

Since I wrote to you, I have been to Norman Court for ten days. Such luxuries! such riches! It is too disgusting that that little Wall should have it all. We had a very pleasant party of gentlemen there – Mr. Luttrell²⁷⁴ amongst others, to whom I am devotedly attached. And he was in the highest good humour all the time, thanks to the goodness of the cook, and the comforts of his own room. No ladies, but old Mrs. Wall,²⁷⁵ who is worth ten of her son. She drives me to desperation by being so much better, in real goodness, than any of us will ever be, and yet very pleasant withal. I do not see that we have the least chance of meeting her hereafter. We shall be in a very inferior class.

Then I went to Laleham where I passed a very comfortable fortnight with the F. Levesons, and on Friday I came to town for a night and yesterday came here. I stayed in town chiefly to see Lady Bath, heard she was very cross about me, did not mind, went in with my most jaunty débonnaire manner, stood the brunt of one little sentimental reproach, and then we were as dear friends as ever. She is looking very well – certainly younger than when she went away. Char²⁷⁶ is decidedly plain; rather a Montagu cut about her. Lady Bath brought me such beautiful ear-rings – and my ears are not bored! So I was obliged to avow with as much shame as if I had lost my ears in the pillory that I could not have the pleasure of wearing them.

Then I went to Downing Street. Such a mess! She²⁷⁷ is crosser than ever, now she has all her wishes gratified. In short, all the stories that we have all known of her are nothing compared to what we might know now. Sister will not hear of her being crazy, though I have proved to her how advantageous it would be to Sarah’s character; but at all events it is impossible that poor weak man can be our Minister much longer. I was rather in the Opposition Society at Laleham, and it is extraordinary the number of good stories the Opposition letters bring of Lord and Lady Goderich. However, all those of her meddling in Politics are perfectly unfounded. Her attention to her own self is never disturbed for a moment, and she does not ever ask for any public information. Gooch is appointed her third physician in ordinary, and she was unusually cross on Friday because he had not called before two. She had had Clarke and Pennington, but as she observed with the sweetest resignation, “Physicians, I believe, always neglect their dying patients.”

I have two sisters here, and about eighteen small children. I mean their children, not mine. Love to Mrs. Villiers. Ever your affectionate

E. E.

Miss Eden to Miss Villiers

GROSVENOR STREET,

Wednesday, December 2, 1827.

MY DEAREST THERESA, Your last note was entirely dateless, and as it has been disporting itself about the country in search of George, it must have been written a considerable time, I guess.

I went to see Sister yesterday. She is expecting Sarah²⁷⁸ at Eastcombe on Saturday, and I really believe likes to have her there! It is lucky there is a difference in tastes! Sarah now has four physicians in ordinary. They all met to consult a few days ago, and Pennington stood by the fire soliloquizing and was heard to say: “Well, this is the first time, I suppose, that we four ever met to consult when there was no complaint to consult about.” She is too much absorbed in herself to care even about the baby, and does not bring it to Eastcombe with her. Sister asked me to come at the same time, which of course I declined, and I took the opportunity of speaking my mind to her, for I think she is nearly as much to blame as Sarah. She was not affronted or convinced, so it all went for nothing. Your ever affectionate

E. E.