I was reading yesterday a book of extracts, etc., that I wrote when I lost my own darling brother.[388] As there were several things in it that I thought you might like, and though I did not want anything to remind me of feelings that seem as _true_ on that subject as they were years ago, yet it made me better able to follow you in your present hours of trial and to know what you are going through. With a mother, husband, and child with you, and all the rest of your family, whom you love so dearly, a.s.sembled about you, you have more earthly support than many can have to look to; and the consolations of religion none are more likely to find than yourself. Indeed, that is a subject on which I think a stranger intermeddleth not, for G.o.d alone can comfort the heart He has cast down, and He, I trust, forgives the repinings which He alone knows.

I wish you would make the exertion of writing one line to me. I love you very dearly, and never feel it more than when you are in grief. Your affectionate

E. E.

_Miss Eden to Lady Charlotte Greville._

(At OATLANDS, WEYBRIDGE), _December 24, 1832_.

MY DEAR LADY CHARLOTTE, ...London is so particularly thick and sloppy that it would not surprise me if I slipped out of it again soon.

I have got that invitation to Panshanger I wanted, but as I would rather not go into Hertfordshire till the ball season is over, that will do later, and Eastcombe is open again now.

I am broken-hearted about the Ess.e.x election, and the only gleam of cheerfulness I have had has been occasioned by half a sheet of notepaper which I filled with the beginning of my new novel. I wrote nearly a sentence and a half which I composed in two days. Mr. Sale, the singer, called here this morning, which he often does, and used to give me lessons gratis, which was kind but tiresome. To-day he could not, because there is no pianoforte in the house, so we talked about Mrs.

Arkwright's[389] songs, which he says he teaches to numbers of his scholars (there is no end to his pupils). But there are great faults in the scientific parts of her compositions, which he could correct in five minutes--in short, he talks of a mistake in counterpoint as we do of breaking one of the Commandments, and when I said she was a great friend of mine, he said he should be quite delighted to correct anything she sent to the Press, and always without touching the "air," and he was very polite about it. Do you think it would affront Mrs. Arkwright if I asked her, or that she would not take it as it was meant, as a kindness, from such a lump of science as Sale is? Shall I ask her? Yours affectionately,

E. E.

_Hon. Mrs. Norton[390] to Lord Auckland._

[_July 1833._]

DEAR LORD AUCKLAND, As you are the only person in your family who have not "cut" me, perhaps you will allow me to apologise _through_ you, to your Sister, for my rudeness last night.

Say that, as far as concerns her, I consider my conduct on that occasion vulgar and unjustifiable, and that I beg her pardon. Yesterday was a day of great vexation and fatigue--which of course is no excuse in the eyes of strangers (whatever it may be in my own), for rudeness and want of temper. I am very sorry. My apology may be of no value to her; but it is a satisfaction to _me_ to make it. Yours truly,

C. NORTON.

_Lady Campbell to Miss Eden._

_October 25, 1833._

DEAREST EMMY, Eleven years ago we were together. To-day is Edward's birthday, and I still see that house in Cadogan Place, and the window at which I sat watching for you, my own dear Friend. I like to think how long we've loved each other without a shade of alteration between us; _du reste_, I need dwell on such things to smooth my mind after other rugged bits of life. Your G.o.dchild[391] is a good, peaceable, fat lump, with black eyelashes and a pretty mouth, which is all I can make out of her yet.

I recovered tolerably well the first fortnight, since that I have been but poorly. Anxiety and worry keep me back. However, it is all over now, for our matters are pretty nearly arranged. Sir Guy sells out; it is our only resource; it is the only way of paying what we owe, getting rid of debt....

I conclude you are now sitting with your own goldfish under your fig-tree, you who live under the shadow of your own old Men.[392] By the bye, with your blue pensioners, I am sure you will feel for us in the dispersion of our red pensioners. There was a great cry heard in the Hospital, Kilmainham weeping for her old men, because they are no longer to be! However, they are respited, for my enemy Ellice[393] put his pen through their existence, and Mr. Littleton[394] too, and ordered even the fashion of their dispersion, but forgot to enquire particulars, and they have stumbled upon an Act of Parliament, and so must wait till another Act breaks through it. Ellice dropped his pen, and was obliged to pick it up again. Your affectionate

PAMELA CAMPBELL.

_Miss Eden to Mrs. Lister._

GREENWICH PARK, _Sunday, December 15, 1833_.

DEAREST THERESA, I have just had a letter from your brother George,[395]

and though probably you heard from him by the same opportunity, yet it is always a pleasure to know that one's brothers are heard of by others as well as oneself. It makes a.s.surance doubly sure, which that clever creature Shakespeare knew was not once more than enough, in this unsure world.

Mr. V. seems very happy and very well, and will probably be more personally comfortable when he is the owner of a few tables and chairs.

It was such a relief _off_ my mind (as a friend of mine says when anything is a relief _to_ her mind) to find that he had received an enormous letter I wrote to him some time ago, a thing like the double sheet of the _Times_ in private life, and which had been so long unacknowledged, that I felt sure that it had been captured, and that I should see a horrible garbled translation of it copied from a Carlist paper, and headed "Intercepted Correspondence," whereupon I must simply have changed my religion, gone into a convent, and taken the veil. The _propriety_ of my letters surpa.s.ses all belief, so I should not have been ashamed in that sense; but when I write to your brother, or to Lord Minto, or to that cla.s.s of correspondents, I always rake together every possible anecdote and fact--or what is called a fact--and write them all down just like a string of paragraphs in a newspaper. I always suppose nonsense would bore them, so the horrid letters are made up of proper names, and if there is an unsafe thing in the world to meddle with it is a proper name, and that is the bother of a letter that goes abroad, particularly to such a country as Spain. I saw George was just as fussy about a letter he had written to your brother; but now we know our little ma.n.u.scripts have found their way safely, we mean to write again--at least I do, the first time I find anything to say. At present I am out of that article.

We have been living here rather quietly, not very though,--at least I dined in town at several great dinners, at the Lievens, etc., that fortnight the Ministers were all in London, and we went up several times to the play with the Stanleys, and several of them came and dined here, and so on during November. Then, George has been frisking about the country at Woburn, Brocket, etc., shooting; and on Sat.u.r.day he and I are going to run down to Bowood for a week. It is an expensive amus.e.m.e.nt and not worth the trouble, barring that it is worth while acknowledging the kindness of the Lansdownes. He rode down here from London to ask us, but I never go on his invitations. But, however, he wrote again as soon as he got back, and then Lady Lansdowne wrote to insist on our fixing a day. So, though I know she never wishes her invitations to be accepted, yet if she will write, she must take the consequences, and so we are going. I hear the Nortons[396] are to be there, which will be funny. I do not fancy her, but still she will be amusing to meet for once.

We settle in town after that, at least f.a.n.n.y and I do. George is going to a great meeting of Ministers at Goodwood. I think it such a good thing, the Ministers have all taken to go shooting about in a body. It prevents their doing any other mischief. That is the way an enemy might state it. I, who am a friend, merely presume they must have brought the country to a flourishing state, since they seem to have so much leisure for amusing themselves.

We have two of Robert's boys staying with us while Mrs. Eden is recovering from her sixth lying-in. The eldest of the five younger children is just five years old. Pleasant!

I send this to the Council Office as you desire, and have a vague idea that C. Greville will read it, and throw it into the fire--officially of course, I mean. Ever, dearest Theresa, your affect.

E. E.

_Miss Eden to Lady Campbell._

GROSVENOR STREET, _Tuesday_, [1837].

DEAREST PAM, Thank you just for giving me a push off--not that of all the days in the year I could have chosen _this_ for answering you. I am in long correspondence with Louisa (Mrs. Colvile) about that flirtation,[397] that little interesting love story I imparted to you, and, as usual, the young people are to be very miserable, because that 100 a year which has been left out of everybody's income, when incomes were created, is not forthcoming; and as usual again, I take the grand line of "all for love and my niece well lost." Moreover, I think a small income in these days is as good as a large one twenty years ago; and that anything is to be preferred to a disappointment. But all this--together with due attention to dignity one side and love the other, and no two people ever understanding each other--keeps me writing at the rate of twelve pages a day. I am quite tired of the manual labour, and as I feel convinced that three months hence they will be married, I grudge these _protocols_.

What fun your visit was to me, and I shall always think that last sin of your drive to Greenwich and back was the best spent wickedest two hours we ever pa.s.sed. I have been twice for a few days to Eastcombe. Sat.u.r.day and Sunday we pa.s.s at Greenwich. George gardens for about fourteen hours on Sunday, which I suppose is wrong, only that is his way of resting himself. Your most affectionate

E. E.

_Lady Campbell to Miss Eden._

_March 26, 1834._

DEAREST EMMY, I daresay the very sight of a letter from me frights you.

I was very sorry after I had written the nasty bitter letter. When I wrote that, I was ill-tempered too! and one always writes harder than one feels. However, my own Emmy, I had rather have written it to you than to any other, tho' you may not thank me for _la preference_, if any one can bear with me it is you, however. You mistook me if you thought that I thought that either dear Lord Auckland or the Lansdownes had not done their utmost for us! G.o.d knows I feel far more sure of Lord Auckland's kindness to me than of my own Brother's. But there is much danger in our sort of distress of getting embittered, my Darling. I pray against this temptation, and strive against this most fervently, and I do trust my cheerfulness has never flagged, and that I blame no one. We have done all we can, and I will not fret....

Your little G.o.dchild is a dear child, with immense eyes and four teeth.

She is wise, clever and quiet, and all your G.o.dchild ought to be, but not so pretty as some of her sisters. As they say the commodities are always in proportion to the demand for them, I expect a great cry for girls in a few years.

I have been to our Court but twice. I was told it was imposing, and I did think there was a good deal of imposition. He[398] is sharp and clever and does work like a horse, but I do think one man about him very dangerous, and that is Blake the Remembrancer. I cannot help thinking that man very double, nay, triple. There are no bounds to the gossip of our little Court; the master likes it and is fed with it. I do not think he is very popular, but that does not signify; here, the way of flesh and all parties seems to be discontent, and murmur and grumble. Think of the Wilt[399] being married,--_Ciel_!... Your own

PAMMY.

_Lady Campbell to Miss Eden._

1834.

I am over head and ears in your affairs. I have so much the b.u.mp of speculation and lottery in my soul that I am decidedly of your opinion, and would at once keep Greenwich and the Thames, than put my head under that very excellent and comfortable extinguisher of the Exchequer, particularly if my head were as _bien meublee_ and well arranged as your George's small crop-eared shaven little crown. We always dressed our heads alike _outside_, no curls. I would most certainly take my chance and not dowager myself into the Exchequer....

I suppose Government, to hold together, must go upon the principle of each Minister bringing a certain quant.i.ty of sense and an alloy of folly. Now, surely, some of your colleagues bring a peck of dirt and very few grains of reason. Are you obliged to eat it all?... My dearest, tempt me not with the sound of pleasant books, I am all day at Latin and Greek with the boys, I very nearly wrote your name in Greek letters.