Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2) - Frances Ann Kemble (sad books to read TXT) 📗
- Author: Frances Ann Kemble
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The Poor King's Death Gave Me A Holiday On Monday, Tuesday, And
Wednesday, And We Eagerly Embraced The Opportunity Its Respite
Afforded Us Of Visiting Loch Lomond And The Entrance To Loch Long.
As Almost My First Thought When We Reached The Lake Was, "How Can
People Attempt To Describe Such Places?" I Shall Not Terminate My
Letter With "Smooth Expanses Of Sapphire-Tinted Waves," Or "Purple
Screens Of Heath-Clad Hills Rising One Above Another Into The
Cloudless Sky." A Volume Might Be Written On The Mere Color Of The
Water, And Give No Idea Of It, Though You Are The Very Person Whose
Imagination, Aided By All That You've Seen, Would Best Realize Such
A Scene From Description. It Was Heavenly, And We Had Such A
Perfect Day! I Prefer, However, The Glimpse We Had Of Loch Long To
What We Saw Of Loch Lomond. I Brought Away An Appropriate Nosegay
From My Trip, A White Rose From Dumbarton, In Memory Of Mary
Stuart, An Oak Branch From Loch Lomond, And A Handful Of Heather,
For Which I Fought With The Bees On The Rocky Shore Of Loch Long.
I Like My Glasgow Audience Better Than My Edinburgh One; They Are
Not So Cold. I Look For A Pleasant Audience In Your Country, For
Which We Set Out To-Morrow, I Believe. My Aunt Desires To Be
Remembered To You, And So Does My Father, And Bids Me Add, In
Answer To Your Modest Doubt, That You Are A Person To Be Always
Remembered With Pleasure And Esteem. I Am Glad You Did Not Like My
Bath Miniature; Indeed, It Was Not Likely That You Would.
Believe Me Always Yours Affectionately,
F. A. K.
During Our Summer Tour My Mother, Who Had Remained In London,
Superintended The Preparation Of A New House, To Which We Removed On Our
Return To Town. My Brother Henry's Schooling At Westminster Was Over,
Which Had Been The Reason For Our Taking The House At Buckingham Gate,
And, Though It Had Proved A Satisfactory Residence In Many Respects, We
Were Glad To Exchange It For The One To Which We Now Went, Which Had
Many Associations That Made It Agreeable To My Father, Having Been My
Uncle John's Home For Many Years, And Connected With Him In The Memory
Of My Parents. It Was The Corner House Of Great Russell Street And
Montague Place, And, Since We Left It, Has Been Included In The New
Court-Yard Of The British Museum (Which Was Next Door To It) And Become
The Librarian's Quarters, Our Friend Panizzi Being Its First Occupant
Afterward. It Was A Good, Comfortable, Substantial House, The Two
Pleasantest Rooms Of Which, To Me, Were The Small Apartment On The
Ground Floor, Lined With Books From Floor To Ceiling, And My Own
Peculiar Lodging In The Upper Regions, Which, Thanks To My Mother's
Kindness And Taste, Was As Pretty A Bower Of Elegant Comfort As Any
Young Spinster Need Have Desired. There I Chiefly Spent My Time,
Pursuing My Favorite Occupations, Or In The Society Of My Own Especial
Friends: My Dear H---- S----, When She Was In London; Mrs. Jameson, Who
Often Climbed Thither For An Hour's Pleasant Discussion Of Her Book On
Shakespeare; And A Lady With Whom I Now Formed A Very Close Intimacy,
Which Lasted Till Her Death, My Dear E---- F----.
I Had The Misfortune To Lose The Water-Color Sketches Which Mrs. Jameson
Volume 1 Chapter 14 Pg 67Had Made Of Our Two Drawing-Rooms In James Street, Buckingham Gate. They
Were Very Pretty And Skillful Specimens Of A Difficult Kind Of Subject,
And Valuable As Her Work, No Less Than As Tokens Of Her Regard For Me.
The Beautiful G---- S----, To Whose Marriage I Have Referred, Had She
Not Been A Sister Of Her Sisters, Would Have Been Considered A Wit; And,
In Spite Of This, Was The Greatest Beauty Of Her Day. She Always
Reminded Me Of What An American Once Said In Speaking Of A Countrywoman
Of His, That She Was So Lovely That When She Came Into The Room She Took
His Breath Away. While I Was In Bath I Was Asked By A Young Artist To
Sit For My Miniature. His Portrait Had Considerable Merit As A Piece Of
Delicate, Highly Finished Workmanship; It Was Taken In The Part Of
Portia, And Engraved; But I Think No One, Without The Label Underneath,
Would Have Imagined In It Even The Intention Of My Portrait. Whether Or
Not The Cause Lay In My Own Dissimilar Expressions And Dissimilar
Aspects At Different Times, I Do Not Know; But If A Collection Was Made
Of The Likenesses That Have Been Taken Of Me, To The Number Of Nearly
Thirty, Nobody Would Ever Imagine That They Were Intended To Represent
The Same Person. Certainly, My Bath Miniature Produced A Version Of My
Face Perfectly Unfamiliar To Myself And Most Of My Friends Who Saw It.
Volume 1 Chapter 15 Pg 68
DUBLIN, ----.
DEAR MRS. JAMESON,
I Received Your Third Kind Letter Yesterday Morning, And Have No
More Time To-Day Than Will Serve To Inclose My Answer To Your
Second, Which Reached Me And Was Replied To At Glasgow; Owing To
Your Not Having Given Me Your Address, I Had Kept It Thus Long In
My Desk. You Surely Said Nothing In That Letter Of Yours That The
Kindest Good Feeling Could Take Exception To, And Therefore Need
Hardly, I Think, Have Been So Anxious About Its Possible
Miscarriage. However, "Misery Makes One Acquainted With Strange
Bed-Fellows," And I Am Afraid Distrust Is One Of Them. You Will Be
Glad, I Know, To Hear That I Have Been Successful Here, And Perhaps
Amused To Know That When Your Letter Reached Me Yesterday, I Was
Going, _En Lionne_, To A Great Dinner-Party At Lady Morgan's. You
Ask Me For Advice About Your Shakespeare Work, But Advice Is What I
Have No Diploma For Bestowing; And Such Suggestions As I Might
Venture, Were I Sitting By Your Side With Shakespeare In My Hand,
And Which Might Furnish Pleasant Matter Of Converse And Discussion,
Are Hardly Solid Enough For Transmission By Post.
I Have Been Reading The "Tempest" All This Afternoon, With Eyes
Constantly Dim With Those Delightful Tears Which Are Called Up
Alike By The Sublimity And Harmony Of Nature, And The Noblest
Creations Of Genius. I Cannot Imagine How You Should Ever Feel
Discouraged In Your Work; It Seems To Me It Must Be Its Own
Perpetual Stimulus And Reward. Is Not Miranda's Exclamation, "O
Brave New World, That Has Such People In It!" On The First Sight Of
Volume 1 Chapter 15 Pg 69The Company Of Villainous Men Who Ruined Her And Her Father, With
The Royal Old Magician's Comment, "'Tis New To Thee!" Exquisitely
Pathetic? I Must Go To My Work; 'Tis "The Gamester" To-Night; I
Wish It Were Over. Good-By, My Dear Mrs. Jameson. Thank You For
Your Kind Letters; I Value Them Very Much, And Am Your Affectionate
F. KEMBLE.
P.S.--I Am Very Happy Here, In The Society Of An Admirable Person
Who Is As Good As She Is Highly Gifted,--A Rare Union,--And Who,
Moreover, Loves Me Well, Which Adds Much, In My Opinion, To Her
Other Merits. I Mean My Friend Miss S----.
My Only Reminiscence Connected With This Dinner At Lady Morgan's Is Of
Her Kind And Comical Zeal To Show Me An Irish Jig, Performed _Secundum
Artem_, When She Found That I Had Never Seen Her National Dance. She
Jumped Up, Declaring Nobody Danced It As Well As Herself, And That I
Should See It Immediately; And Began Running Through The Rooms, With A
Gauze Scarf That Had Fallen From Her Shoulders Fluttering And Trailing
After Her, Calling Loudly For A Certain Young Member Of The Viceregal
Staff, Who Was Among The Guests Invited To A Large Evening Party After
The Dinner, To Be Her Partner. But The Gentleman Had Already Departed
(For It Was Late), And I Might Have Gone To My Grave Unenlightened Upon
The Subject Of Jigs If I Had Not Seen One Performed, To Great
Perfection, By Some Gay Young Members Of A Family Party, While I Was
Staying At Worsley With My Friends Lord And Lady Ellesmere, Whose
Children And Guests Got Up An Impromptu Ball On The Occasion Of Lady
Octavia Grosvenor's Birthday, In The Course Of Which The Irish National
Dance Was Performed With Great Spirit, Especially By Lord Mark Kerr And
Lady Blanche Egerton. It Resembles A Good Deal The Saltarello Of The
Italian Peasants In Rhythm And Character; And A Young Irishman, Servant
Of Some Friends Of Mine, Covered Himself With Glory By The Manner In
Which He Joined A Party Of Neapolitan Tarantella Dancers, Merely By Dint
Of His Proficiency In His Own Native Jig. A Great Many Years After My
First Acquaintance With Lady Morgan In Dublin, She Renewed Our
Intercourse By Calling On Me In London, Where She Was Spending The
Season, And Where I Was Then Living With My Father, Who Had Become
Almost Entirely Deaf And Was Suffering From A Most Painful Complication
Of Maladies. My Relations With The Lively And Amusing Irish Authoress
Consisted Merely In An Exchange Of Morning Visits, During One Of Which,
After Talking To Me
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