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Aug. 17, 1882.
* * * * *
It is one of the sides of X.'s mind which makes me feel her so
_limited_ an artist that she seems almost to take up a school as she
takes up a lady-friend--"one down another come on." I think her abuse
of Wagner now curiously _narrow_. I can't see why one should not feel
the full spell and greater purity of Brahms without dancing in his
honour on Wagner's bones!! It seems like her refusing to see any merit
in, or derive any enjoyment from modern pictures because she has been
"posted" in the Early Italian School. So from year to year these good
people who have been to Florence will not even look at a painting by
Brett or Peter Graham, though by the very qualities and senses through
which one feels the sincerity, the purity, the nobleness, and the fine
colour of those great painters, the photographs of whose pictures even
stir one's heart,--one surely ought also to take delight in a
landscape school which simply did not exist among the ancients. If sea
and sky as GOD spreads them before our eyes are admirable, I
can't think how one can be blind to delight in such pictures as 'The
Fall of the Barometer,' 'The Incoming Tide,' or Leader's 'February
Fill-dyke.' Things which no Florentine ever approached, as transcripts
of Nature's mood apart from man....
Yesterday we had a most delicious drive through the heather and pines
to Crookham. Ah, 'tis a bonny country, and I _did_ laugh when I said
to Mr. Walkinshaw, "How glorious the heather is this year!" and he
said, "Yes. If only it was growing on its native heath." For a minute
I couldn't tell what he meant. Then I discovered that he regards
heather as the exclusive property of bonnie Scotland!!!
I think you will be pleased to hear that I did, what I have long
wanted, yesterday. Thoroughly made Mrs. Walkinshaw's acquaintance, and
thanked her for that old invitation we never accepted to go there to
see the Chinnerys' sketches. How Scotch and _kindly_ she is! She
insisted on bringing her husband and daughters to be introduced, and
sent _warmest_ messages to you. She said she feared you must have
quite forgotten her; but I told her she was quite wrong there! She
says she has a little Chinnery she meant to give me long ago, and she
insists on sending it....
Sept. 1, 1882.
* * * * *
I must tell you that I had such a mixture of pain and pleasure at
Britwell in the nearest approach to Trouve I have ever known. A larger
dog, and not quite so "Moecent," but in character and ways his living
image. The same place on his elbow (which his Aunt was always wanting
to gum a bit of astrachan on to); he "took" to his Aunt at once!
_Nero_ by name. The sweetest temper. I have kissed the nice soft
places on his black lips and shaken hands by the hour!!! Yesterday the
others went to a garden-party, so I went on to the Downs to sketch,
and when the dogs saw me, off they came, Nero delighted, and little
Punch the Pug. They came with me all the way, and lay on the grass
while I was sketching, and Nero kept sitting down to save a corner,
and watch which way I meant to go, just like dear True! [_Sketch._]
They were very good, sitting with me on the downs, but they roamed
away into the woods after game a good deal on the road home!...
_Grenoside._ Oct 5, 1882.
* * * * *
I do so long to hear how you like the end of "Laetus." As F.S.'s tale
turned out seven pages longer than was accounted for, I had to cut out
some of _my_ story, and so have missed the point of its being S.
Martin's Day on which Leonard died. S. Martin was a soldier-saint, and
the Tug-of-War Hymn is only sung on Saints' Days.
I have completed a tale[42] for the November No., and gave a rough
design to Andre for the illustration, which will be in colours. I hope
you will like _that_. There is not a tear in it this time! "Laetus" was
too tragic!
[Footnote 42: "Sunflowers and a Rushlight," vol. xvi.]
* * * * *
Will we or will we not have a Persian Puss in our new home by the name
of--Marjara?--It is quite perfect! Do Brahmans like cats? I must
have a tale about Marjara!!!--
Karava is grand too!
Oh Karava!
Oh the Crier!
Oh Karava!
Oh the Shouter!
Oh Karava, oh the Caller!
Very glossy are your feathers,
Very thievish are your habits,
Black and green and purple feathers,
Bold and bad your depredations!!!
Doesn't he sound like a fellow in _Hiawatha_?
Oh, it's a fine language, and must have fine _lils_ in it!
* * * * *
TO MRS. JELF.
_Ecclesfield._ Oct. 10, 1882.
MY DEAREST MARNY,
Your dear, kind letter was very pleasant sweetmeat and encouragement.
I am deeply pleased you like the end of "Laetus"--and feel it to the
point--and that my polishings were not in vain! I polished that last
scene to distraction in "the oak room" at Offcote!
I should _very_ much like to hear how it hits the General. I think
"_Pav_ilions" (as my Yorkshire Jane used to call civilians!) may get a
little mixed, and not care so much for the points. Some who have been
rather extra kind about it are--Lady W---- (but yesterday she
amusingly insisted that she _had_ lived in camp ---- at
Wimbledon!!)--the Fursdons and "Stella Austin," author of _Stumps_,
etc.--(literary "civilians" who think it the best thing I have ever
done), and two young barristers who have been reading it aloud to each
other in the Temple--with tears. And yet I fancy many non-military
readers may get mixed. P. vouchsafes no word of it to _me_, but I hear
from D. (under the veil of secrecy!) that he and Mr. Anstruther read
it together in Egypt with much approval. I am more pleased by military
than non-military approval. Old Aldershottians would so easily spot
blunders and bad taste!!! Mrs. Murray wrote to me this morning about
it--and of course wished they were back in dear old Aldershot!
You make me very egotistical, but I DO wish you to tell me
what you, _and_ Aunty, _and_ Madre think of "Sunflowers and a
Rushlight," when you read it. I fear it has rather scandalized my
Aunt, who is staying with us. She is obviously shocked at the
plain-speaking about drains and doctors, and thinks that part ought to
have been in an essay--not in a child's tale. I am a little troubled,
and should _really_ like (what is seldom soothing!) a candid opinion
from _each of you_. You know how I think the riding _some_ hobbies
takes the _fine edge_ off the mind, and if you think I am growing
coarse in the cause of sanitation--I beseech you to tell me! As to
putting _the teaching_ into an essay--the crux there is that the
people one wants to stir up about sanitation are just good family folk
with no special literary bias; and they will read a tale when they
won't read an essay! But do tell me if any one of you feel that the
subject _grates_, or my way of putting it.
Now, my darling, I must tell you that I have got a telegram from my
goodman--the Kapellmeister!--to say he IS to be sent home in
"early spring." This is a great comfort. I would willingly have let
him stay two months longer to escape spring cold; but he has got to
_hate_ the place so fiercely, that I now long for him to get away at
any cost. It must be most depressing! The last _letter_ I got, he had
had a trip by sea, and said he felt perfectly different till he got
back to Colombo, when the oppression seized him again. He has been to
Trincomalee, and is charmed with it, and said he could read small
print when he got there, but his eyes quite fail in the muggyness of
Colombo. However he will cheer up now, I hope! and Nov. and Dec. and
Jan. are good months.
Now good-bye, dear. My best love to Aunty and Madre.
Your loving,
J.H.E.
TO A.E.
_Ecclesfield._ October 24, 1882.
... It was very vexatious that the Megha Duta came just too late for
last mail. It is a beautiful poem. Every now and then the local colour
has a weird charm all its own. It lifts one into another land (without
any jarring of railway or steamship!) to realize the _locale_ in which
rearing masses of grey cumuli suggest elephants rushing into combat!
And the husband's picture of his wife in his absence is as noble, as
sympathetic, and as perceptive as anything of the kind I ever read.
So full of human feeling and so refined. I enjoyed it very much. It
reminded me, oddly enough, more than once of Young's _Night Thoughts_.
I think perhaps (if the charm of another tongue, and the wonder of its
antiquity did not lead one to give both more _attention_ and more
_sympathy_ than one would perhaps bestow on an English poem) that the
poem does not rank much higher than a degree short of the first rank
of our poets. But it is very charming. And oh, what a lovely text! It
is a _most beautiful_ character....
TO MRS. MEDLEY.
_Ecclesfield, Sheffield._
November 17, 1822.
MY VERY DEAR MRS. MEDLEY,
There has been long word silence between us! I made a break in it the
other day by sending you my new "Picture Poem"--"A Week Spent in a
Glass Pond."
It was a sort of repayment of a tender chromolithographic (!) debt.
Do you remember, when Fredericton was our home, and when everything
pretty from Old England did look so very pretty--how on one of those
home visits from which he brought back bits of civilization--the
Bishop brought _me_ a "chromo" of dogs and a fox which has hung in
every station we've had since?
Now--as a friend's privilege is--I will talk without fear or favour of
myself! The last real contact with you was the Bishop's too brief peep
at us in Bowdon--a shadowy time out of which his Amethyst ring flashes
on my mind's eye. No! Not Amethyst--what IS the name? Sapphire!--(I have
a little mental confusion on the subject. I have a weak--a very weak
corner--in my heart for another Bishop, an old friend of your
Bishop's--Bishop Harold Browne; and have had the honour now and again of
wearing his rings on my thumb--a momentary relaxation of discipline and
due respect, which I doubt if your Bishop would admit!!! though I hope
he has a little love for me, frightened as I now and then am of him!!!!
The last time but one I was at Farnham, I was asked to stay on another
two days to catch the Brownes' fortieth wedding-day. Just as we were
going down to dinner I reproached the Bishop for not having on his
"best" ring! Very luckily--for he said he always made a point of it on
his wedding-day--left me like a hot potato in the middle of the stairs
and flew off to his room, and returned with _the_ grand sapphire!)
Well, dear--that's a parenthesis--to go back to Bowdon. I was not to
boast of there, and after the move to York, and I had fitted up my
house and made up for lost time in writing work, I was a very much
broken creature, keeping going to Jenner and getting orders to
rest!--and then came the order to Malta, not six months after we were
sent to York, and I stayed to pack up and sent out all our worldly
goods and chattels, and then started myself, and was taken ill in
Paris and had to come back, and have been "of no account" for three
years.
Well. My news is now far better than once I hoped it ever could be.
I'm not strong, but I can work in moderation, though I can't "rackett"
the least bit. And--Rex is to come home in Spring!--the season of hope
and _nest-building_--and I am trying not to wonder my wits away as to
what part of the British Isles it will be in which I shall lay the
cross-sticks and put in the moss and wool of our next nest!! There is
every reason to suppose we shall be "at home" for five years, I am
thankful to say....
Rex loved Malta, and _hates_ Ceylon. But he has been _very_ good and
patient about it.
Latterly he has consoled himself a good deal with the study of Sanscrit,
which he means me also to acquire, though I have not got far yet! It is
a beautiful character. He says, "Of all the things I have tried Sanscrit
is the most utterly delicious! Of the alphabet alone there are (besides
the ten vowels and thirty-three simple consonants) rather more than two
hundred compound consonants," etc., etc.! He adds, "[Sanskrit: aayi]
are my detached initials, but I could write my whole name in
'Devanagiri,' or 'Writing of the Gods.'"
TO A.E.
_Ecclesfield._ December 8, 1882.
... I got back from Liverpool on Monday. When I called at the Museum
on that morning a Dr. Palmer was there, who said, "I was in Taku Forts
with your husband," and was very friendly. He gave me a prescription
for neuralgia! and sent you his best remembrances.
First and last I have annexed one or two nice "bits of wool for our
nest." For _8s._ (a price for which I could not have bought _the
frame_, a black one with charming old-fashioned gold-beading of this
pattern) [_sketch_] I bought a real fine old soft mezzotint, after Sir
Joshua Reynolds' portrait of Richard Burke. Oh, such a lovely face!
Looking lovelier in powder and lace frill. But a charming thing, with
an old-fashioned stanza in English deploring his early death, and a
motto in Latin. It was a great find, and I carried it home from the
Pawnbroker's in triumph!--
I have got a very nice Irish anecdote for you from Mr. Shee:
Two Irishmen (not much accustomed to fashionable circles) at a big
party, standing near the door. After a long silence:
Paddy I.--"D'ye mix much in society?"
P. II.--"Not more than six tumblers in the evening."
* * * * *
S. John Evangelist, 1882.
* * * * *
C. "dealt" for me for the old Japanese Gentleman (pottery) on whom I
turned my back at L1. He has got him for _15s._ You will be delighted
with him, and I have just packed him (and a green pot lobster!) in a
box with sawdust.
Do you remember how your 'genteel' clerk's wife came (starving) from
Islington, or some such place, to us at Aldershot, and told me she had
_sold_ all her furniture (as a nice preparation to coming to free but
empty quarters) EXCEPT _her parlour pier-glass and fire-irons_?
I sometimes feel as if I bought house plenishing that packed together
about as nicely as that!!! Witness my pottery old gentleman, and my
bronze Crayfish....
December 20, 1882.
* * * * *
I am so glad you like "Sunflowers and a Rushlight." It was very
pleasurable work, though hard work as usual, writing it. It was
written at Grenoside, among the Sunflowers, and generally with dear
old Wentworth, the big dog, walking after me or lying at my feet.
You may, or may not, have observed, that the _Times_ critic says, that
"of one thing there can be no doubt"--and that is--"_Miss_ Ewing's
nationality. No one but a Scotchwoman bred and born _could_ have
written the 'Laird and the Man of Peace.'"
It is "rich in pawky humour." But if I can get a copy I'll send it to
you. It is complimentary if not true!
I am putting a very simple inscription over our dear Brother. Do you
like it?
TROUVE
commonly and justly called
TRUE.
FOUND 1869; LOST 1881,
by A.E. and J.H.E.
TO H.K.F.G.
_Eccelsfield._ December, 1882.
... I rather HOPE to have a story for you for March, which
will be laid in France. Will it do if you have it by February 8?...
It is a terribly close subject, and I shall either fail at it, or make
it I hope not inferior to "Jackanapes." I don't _think_ it will be
long. The characters are so few, I have only plotted it. It will be
called--
"THE THINGS THAT ARE SEEN": AN OLD
SOLDIER'S STORY.
_DRAM. PERS._
MADAME.
HER MAID.
THE FATHER OF MADAME.
THE FATHER OF THE SERGEANT.
THE MOTHER OF THE SERGEANT.
THE SERGEANT.
THE PRIEST.
THE MURDERER.
A POODLE.
Soldiers, Peasants, Priests, Gendarmes, a Rabble, Reapers--but you
know I generally overflow my limits. I hope I can do it, but it tears
me to bits! and I've walked myself to bits nearly in plotting it this
morning,--a very little written, but I believe I could be _ready_ by
February 8. I don't think it will be as long as "Daddy Darwin," not
nearly.
Please settle with Mr. B. what you will do about an illustration. The
first scene is that of the death-bed of the sergeant's father. I think
it would be quite as good a scene for illustration as any, and will, I
trust, be ready in a day or two. Is it worth Mr. B.'s while to see if
R.C. would do it in shades of brown or grey? (a very chiaroscuro scene
in a tumble-down cottage, light from above). All _I_ must have is a
good illustration or none at all. (I would send copy of scene to R.C.
and ask him.) I think it might pay, because I am certain to want to
_re_publish it, and whoever I publish it with will pay half-price for
the old illustration. I do myself believe that it might be
_colour-printed_ in (say seven instead of seventeen) shades of colour
(blues, and browns, and black, and yellow, and white) at much less
cost than a full-coloured one, but that I leave to Mr. B.: only I have
some strong theories about it, and when I come to town I mean to make
Edmund Evans's acquaintance.
Strange to say, I believe I _could_ make the tale illustrate the
"Portrait of a Sergeant" if it were possible to get permission to have
a thing photoed and reduced from _that_!!!--Goupil would be the
channel in which to inquire--but the artist would not be a leading
character, as far as I can see, so it might not be all one could wish.
But it is worth investigating....
Or again, I wonder what Herkomer would charge for an _etching_ of the
dying old Woodcutter, and his kneeling son? I believe THAT
would be the thing!--But the plate must be surfaced so that _A.J.M._
mayn't exhaust all the good impressions. If Herkomer would etch that,
and add a vignette of a scene I could give him with a beautiful
peasant girl--or of the old sergeant and the portly and worldly
"Madame," we SHOULD "do lovely!" Will you try for that,
please?
No more today for
"I am exhaust
I can not!"
Your devoted, J.H.E.
Remember _I_ wish for Herkomer. He will be the right man in the right
place. R.C. is for dear old England, and this is French and Roman
Catholic--and Keltic peasant life.
TO A.E.
January 4, 1883,
* * * * *
Caldecott says his difficulty over my writing is that "the force and
finish" of it frightens him. It is painted already and does not need
illustration; and he has lingered over "Jackanapes" from the
conviction that he could "never satisfy me"!! This difficulty is, I
hope, now vanquished. He is hard at work on a full and complete
edition of "Jackanapes," of which he has now begged to take the entire
control, will "submit" paper and type, etc. to me, and hopes to
please. "But you are _so_ particular!"
I need hardly say I have written to place everything in his hands. I
am "not such a fool as" to think I can teach _him_! (though I am
insisting upon certain arrangements of types, etc., etc., to give a
_literary_--not Toy Book--aspect to the volume).
Andre I _know I help_. But then only a man of real talent and mind
would accept the help and be willing to be taught. The last batch of
_A Soldier's Children_ that came had three pages that grated on me.
1. "They mayn't have much time for their prayers on active service,
_and we ought to say them instead_." The first part of this line is
splendidly done by a brush with Zulus among mealies, but the second
part (as underlined) was thus. Nice old church (good idea) and the
officer's wife and children at prayer. BUT--the lady was like
a shop-girl, in a hat and feathers, tight-fitting jacket with skimpy
fur edge (inexpressibly vulgar cheap finery style!), kneeling with a
highly-developed figure backwards on to the spectator! and with her
eyes up in a theatrical gaze heavenwards. Little boy _sitting_ on
seat, with his hat on.
2. For "GOD bless the good soldiers like old father and
Captain Powder and the men with good conduct medals, and please let
the naughty ones be forgiven,"--he had got some men being released out
of prison cells.
3. For "There are eight verses and eight Alleluias, and we can't sing
very well, but we did our best.
"Only Mary would cry in the verse about 'Soon, soon to faithful
warriors comes their rest'!"--
--he had got a very poor thing of three children singing.
Now these were all highly-finished drawings. Quite complete, and I
know the man is _driven_ with work (for cheap pay!). So I hesitated,
and worried myself. At last I took courage and sent them back, having
faith in the "thoroughness" which he so eminently works with.
For 1, I sent him a sketch! said the lady must wear a bonnet in
church, and her boys must take off their hats! That she must kneel
_forwards_, be dressed in a deep sealskin with heavy fox edge, and
have her eyes _down_, and the children must kneel _imitating her_, and
I should like an old _brass_ on the wall above them with one of those
queer old kneeling families in ruffs.
For 2, I said I could not introduce child readers to the cells, and I
begged for an old Chelsea Pensioner showing his good conduct medal to
a little boy.
3. I suggested the tomb of a Knight Crusader, above which should fall
a torn banner with the words, "In Coelo Quies."
Now if he had kicked at having three pictures to do utterly over
again, one could hardly have wondered, pressed as he is. But, back
they came! "I am indeed much indebted to you," the worst he had to
say! The lady in No. 1 now _is_ a lady; and as to the other two, they
will be two of the best pages of the book. Old Pensioner first-rate,
and Crusader under torn banner just leaving "Coelo Quies," a tomb
behind "of S. Ambrose of Milan" with a little dog--and a
snowy-moustached old General, with bending shoulders and holding a
little girl by the hand, paying _devoir_ at the Departed Warrior's
tomb in a ray of rosy sunlight!!
This is the sort of way we are fighting through the Ewing-Andre books.
* * * * *
_Ecclesfield._ January 10, 1883.
* * * * *
Fancy me "learning a part" again! _That_ has a sort of sound like old
times, hasn't it?
I feel half as if I were a fool, and half as if it would be very good
fun! R.A. theatricals at Shoeburyness. The FoxStrangways have asked
me. Major O'Callaghan is Stage Manager I believe. Then there is a
Major Newall, said to be very good. He says he "has a fancy to play 'A
Happy Pair' with me!" It is his _cheval de bataille_ I believe.
I think it is best to try and do what one is _asked_ over parts
(though they were very polite in offering me a choice), so I said I
would try, and am learning it. I think I shall manage it. They now
want me to take "A Rough Diamond" as well, _Margery_. I doubt its
being wise to attempt both. It will be rather a strain, I think.
* * * * *
_Shoeburyness._ January 25, 1883.
* * * * *
I am playing Mrs. Honeyton in "A Happy Pair" with Major Newall. He
knows his work well, is a good coach, and very considerate and kind.
In my soul I wish that were all, but they have persuaded me also to
take Margery in "A Rough Diamond," and getting THAT up in a
week is "rough on" a mediocre amateur like myself!
This is a _curious_ place. Very nice, bar the east winds. I have been
down on the shore this morning. The water sobs at your feet, and the
ships and the gulls go up and down. Above, a compact little military
station clusters together, and everywhere are Guns, Guns, Guns; old
guns lying in the grass, new guns shattering the windows, and only
_not_ bringing down the plaster because the rooms are ceiled with wood
"for the same purpose."...
TO MRS. JELF.
Sunday, April 1883.
MY DEAREST MARNY,
I must write a line to you about your poor friends! It is THE
tragedy of this war! Very terrible. I hope the bitterness of death was
_short_, and to gallant spirits like theirs hope and courage probably
supported them till the very last, when higher hopes helped them to
undo their grasp on this life.
In the dying--they suffered far less than most of us will probably
suffer in our beds--but to be at the fullest stretch of manly powers
in the service of their country among the world's hopes and fears and
turmoils, and to be suddenly called upon to "leave all and follow
Christ"--when the "all" for them had most righteously got every force
of mind and body devoted to it--must be at least one hard struggle.
And death away from home does seem so terrible!
Richard will feel it very much. That Nottingham election seems so
short a time ago.
* * * * *
Back from Church! Great haste. We have had that grand hymn with--
"Soon, soon to faithful warriors comes their rest."
I did not forget the poor souls.
Prayers for the dead is one of those things which always seems to me
the most curiously obvious and simple of duties!
Your most loving, J.H.E.
71, _Warwick Road_. April 9, 1883.
DEAREST MARNY,
I write a line to tell you that D. was at S. Paul's yesterday
afternoon to Evensong, and to hear Liddon preach.
I know you will like to hear how very gracefully he alluded to your
poor friend as "the accomplished Engineer," and to Charrington and
Palmer. Of the last--he spoke very feelingly--as to his great loss
from the learning point of view. He said--or to this effect--"We laid
them here last Friday in the faith of Him who died for their sins and
ours, and this is the first Sunday when above their ashes we
commemorate that Resurrection through which we hope that they and we
shall rise again." The "Drum Band" was duly played after the service,
and D. says that crowds remained to listen.
I know you will like to hear this, though I have given a bad
second-hand account.
I hope my Goodman gets to Malta to-day or to-morrow!
* * * * *
Ever, dearest Marny,
Your loving J.H.E.
TO A.E.
April 24, 1883.
... I sent you a telegram this morning to make you feel quite happy in
your holiday. "Real good times" (a Yankeeism I hate, but it is
difficult to find its brief equivalent!) are not so common in "this
wale" that you should cut yours short. I rather hope this may be in
time to catch you (it is not _my_ fault that you will be without
letters). If you would like to linger longer--Do. You are not likely
to find "the like of" your present surroundings on leave in Scotland,
least of all as to sunshine and flowers. One doesn't go to Malta every
day. I wish I was there! But I can't be, and ten to one should catch
typhoid where you only smell orange-blossoms, and I don't think my
sins run in the Dog-in-the-manger line, and I hope you'll quaff your
cup of content as deeply as you can.
For one thing winter has returned. We had snow yesterday, and the east
wind, the Beast Wind! through which I went this morning to send your
telegram was simply killing; dust like steel filings driving into your
skin, waves of hard dust with dirty paper foam.--Ugh!!--Spend as much
of your leave as you and your friends think well where you are. I've
waited three years. I can wait an odd three weeks and welcome!
Especially as I am up to my eyes in packing and arranging matters for
our new home. What I do hope is you will be happy _there_! But I
believe in laying in happiness like caloric. A good roast keeps one
warm a long time!
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