Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2), Frances Ann Kemble [i can read book club .txt] 📗
- Author: Frances Ann Kemble
Book online «Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2), Frances Ann Kemble [i can read book club .txt] 📗». Author Frances Ann Kemble
Lord Byron, Whose Portraits Hung In Her Room, And Who, She Assured Me,
Were Her Two Pre-Eminent Heroes, She Plied Me With A Breathless Series
Of Pressing Invitations To Breakfasts, Luncheons, Dinners, Evening
Parties, To Meet Everybody In London That I Did And Did Not Know, And
Upon My Declining All These Offers Of Hospitable Entertainment (For I
Had At That Time Withdrawn Myself Entirely From Society, And Went
Nowhere), She Exclaimed, "But What In The World Do You _Do_ With
Yourself In The Evening?" "Sit With My Father, Or Remain Alone," Said I.
"Ah!" Cried The Society-Loving Little Lady, With An Exasperated Irish
Accent, "Come Out Of That _Sphare_ Of Solitary Self-Sufficiency _Ye_
Live In, Do! Come To Me!" Which Objurgation Certainly Presented In A
Most Ludicrous Light My Life Of Very Sad Seclusion, And Sent Us Both
Into Fits Of Laughter.
Volume 1 Chapter 15 Pg 70
I Have Alluded To A Friendship Which I Formed Soon After My Appearance
On The Stage With Miss E---- F----. She Was The Daughter Of Mr. F----,
For Many Years Member For Tiverton. Miss F---- And I Perpetuated A Close
Attachment Already Traditional Between Our Families, Her Mother Having
Been Mrs. Siddons's Dearest Friend. Indeed, For Many Years Of Her Life,
Mrs. F---- Seems To Me To Have Postponed The Claims Even Of Her Husband
And Children Upon Her Time And Attention, To Her Absolute Devotion To
Her Celebrated Idol. Mr. F---- Was A Dutiful Member Of The House Of
Commons, And I Suppose His Boy Was At School And His Girl Too Young To
Demand Her Mother's Constant Care And Superintendence, At The Time When
She Literally Gave Up The Whole Of Her Existence To Mrs. Siddons During
The London Season, Passing Her Days In Her Society And Her Evenings In
Her Dressing-Room At The Theater, Whenever Mrs. Siddons Acted. Miss
F---- And Myself Could Not Dedicate Ourselves With Any Such Absolute
Exclusiveness To Each Other. Neither Of Our Mothers Would Have Consented
To Any Such Absorbing Arrangement, For Which A Certain Independence Of
Family Ties Would Have Been Indispensable; But Within The Limits Which
Our Circumstances Allowed We Were As Devoted To Each Other As My Aunt
Siddons And Mrs. F---- Had Been, And Our Intercourse Was As Full And
Frequent As Possible. E---- F---- Was Not Pretty, But Her Face Was
Expressive Of Both Intelligence And Sensibility; Her Figure Wanted
Height, But Was Slender And Graceful; Her Head Was Too Small For
Powerful Though Not Far Keen And Sagacious Intellect, Or For Beauty. The
General Impression She Produced Was That Of Well-Born And Well-Bred
Refinement, And She Was As Eager, Light, And Rapid In Her Movements As A
Greyhound, Of Which Elegant Animal The Whole Character Of Her Appearance
Constantly Reminded Me.
Mr. F---- Had A Summer Residence Close To The Picturesque Town Of
Southampton, Called Bannisters, The Name Of Which Charming Place Calls
Up The Image Of My Friend Swinging In Her Hammock Under The Fine Trees
Of Her Lawn, Or Dexterously Managing Her Boat On Its Tiny Lake, And
Brings Back Delightful Hours And Days Spent In Happy Intercourse With
Her. Mr. F---- Had Himself Planned The House, Which Was As Peculiar As
It Was Comfortable And Elegant. A Small Vestibule, Full Of Fine Casts
From The Antique (Among Others A Rare Original One Of The Glorious
Neapolitan Psyche, Given To His Brother-In-Law, Mr. William Hamilton, By
The King Of Naples), Formed The Entrance. The Oval Drawing-Room, Painted
In Fresco By Mr. F----, Recalled By Its Italian Scenes Their Wanderings
In The South Of Europe. In The Adjoining Room Were Some Choice Pictures,
Among Others A Fine Copy Of One Of Titian's Venuses, And In The
Dining-Room An Equally Good One Of His Venus And Adonis. The Place Of
Honor, However, In This Room Was Reserved For A Life-Size, Full-Length
Portrait Of Mrs. Siddons, Which Lawrence Painted For Mrs. F---- And
Which Is Now In The National Gallery,--A Production So Little To My
Taste Both As Picture And Portrait That I Used To Wonder How Mrs.
F---- Could Tolerate Such A Representation Of Her Admirable Friend. The
Principal Charm Of Bannisters, However, Was The Garden And Grounds,
Which, Though Of Inconsiderable Extent, Were So Skillfully And
Tastefully Laid Out, That Their Bounds Were Always Invisible. The Lawn
And Shrubberies Were Picturesquely Irregular, And Still Retained Some
Kindred, In Their Fine Oaks And Patches Of Heather, To The Beautiful
Wild Common Which Lay Immediately Beyond Their Precincts. A Pretty Piece
Volume 1 Chapter 15 Pg 71Of Ornamental Water Was Set In Flowering Bushes And Well-Contrived
Rockery, And In A More Remote Part Of The Grounds A Little Dark Pond
Reflected Wild-Wood Banks And Fine Overspreading Elms And Beeches. The
Small Park Had Some Charming Clumps And Single Trees, And There Was A
Twilight Walk Of Gigantic Overarching Laurels, Of A Growth That Dated
Back To A Time Of Considerable Antiquity, When The Place Had Been Part
Of An Ancient Monastery. Above All, I Delighted In My Friend E----'S
Favorite Flower-Garden, Where Her Fine Eye For Color Reveled In Grouping
The Softest, Gayest, And Richest Masses Of Bloom, And Where In A Bay Of
Mossy Turf, Screened Round With Evergreens, The Ancient Vision Of Love
And Immortality, The Antique Cupid And Psyche, Watched Over The
Fragrant, Flowery Domain.
Sweet Bannisters! To Me For Ever A Refuge Of Consolation And Sympathy In
Seasons Of Trial And Sorrow, Of Unfailing Kindly Welcome And Devoted
Constant Affection; Haven Of Pleasant Rest And Calm Repose Whenever I
Resorted To It! How Sad Was My Last Visit To That Once Lovely And
Beloved Place, Now Passed Into The Hands Of Strangers, Deserted,
Divided, Desecrated, Where It Was Painful Even To Call Up The Image Of
Her Whose Home It Once Was! The Last Time I Saw Bannisters The Grounds
Were Parceled Out And Let For Grazing Inclosures To Various Southampton
Townspeople. The House Was Turned Into A Boys' Boarding-School, And, As
I Hurried Away, The Shouts And Acclamations Of A Roaring Game Of Cricket
Came To Me From The Inclosure That Had Been E---- F----'S Flower-Garden;
But Though I Was Crying Bitter Tears The Lads Seemed Very Happy; The
Fashion Of This World Passeth Away.
Before Leaving Dublin For Liverpool, I Had The Pleasure Of Visiting My
Friend Miss S---- In Her Home, Where I Returned Several Times, And Was
Always Welcomed With Cordial Kindness. My Last Visit There Took Place
During The Crimean War. My Friend Mrs. T---- Had Become A Widow, And Her
Second Son, Now General T----, Was With His Regiment In The Very Front
Of The Danger, And Also Surrounded By The First Deadly Outbreak Of The
Cholera, Which Swooped With Such Fatal Fury Upon Our Troops At The
Opening Of The Campaign. I Can Never Forget The Pathetic Earnestness And
Solemnity Of The Prayers Read Aloud By That Poor Mother For The Safety
Of Our Army, Nor The Accent With Which She Implored God's Protection
Upon Those Exposed To Such Imminent Peril In The Noble Discharge Of
Their Duty. That Son Was Preserved To That Mother, Having Manfully Done
His Part In The Face Of The Twofold Death That Threatened Him.
There Was A Slight Circumstance Attending Mrs. T----'S Household
Devotions That Charmed Me Greatly, And That I Have Never Seen Repeated
Anywhere Else Where I Have Assisted At Family Prayers. The Servants, As
They Left The Hall, Bowed And Courtesied To Their Mistress, Who Returned
Their Salutation With A Fine, Old-Fashioned Courtesy, Full Of A Sweet,
Kindly Grace, That Was Delightful. This Act Of Civility To Her
Dependents Was To Me A Perfect Expression Of Mrs. T----'S Real Antique
Toryism, As Well As Of Her Warm-Hearted, Motherly Kindness Of Nature.
Ardgillan Castle (I Think By Courtesy, For It Was Eminently, Peaceful In
Character, In Spite Of The Turret Inhabited By My Dear "Moping Owl,"
H----) Was Finely Situated On An Eminence From Which The Sea, With The
Picturesque Fishing Village Of Skerries Stretching Into It On One Side,
Volume 1 Chapter 15 Pg 72And The Morne Mountains Fading In Purple Distance Beyond Its Blue Waters
On The Other, Formed A Beautiful Prospect. A Pine Wood On One Side Of
The Grounds Led Down To The Foot Of The Grassy Hill Upon Which The House
Stood, And To A Charming Wilderness Called The Dell: A Sylvan Recess
Behind The Rocky Margin Of The Sea, From Which It Was Completely
Sheltered, Whose Hollow Depth, Carpeted With Grass And Curtained With
Various Growth Of Trees, Was The Especial Domain Of My Dear H----. A
Crystal Spring Of Water Rose In This "Bosky Dell," And Answered With Its
Tiny Tinkle The Muffled Voice Of The Ocean Breaking On The Shore Beyond.
The Place Was Perfectly Lovely, And Here We Sat Together And Devised, As
The Old Word Was, Of Things In Heaven, And Things In Earth, And Things
Above Heaven, And Things Below Earth, And Things Quite Beyond Ourselves,
Till We Were Well-Nigh Beside Ourselves; And It Was Not The Fault Of My
Metaphysical Friend, But Of My Utter Inability To Keep Pace With Her
Mental Processes, If Our Argument Did Not Include Every Point Of That
Which Milton Has Assigned To The Forlorn Disputants Of His Infernal
Regions. My Departure From Dublin Ended These Happy Hours Of
Companionship, And I Exchanged That Academe And My Beloved Plato In
Petticoats For My Play-House Work At Liverpool. The Following Letter Was
In Answer To One Mrs. Jameson Wrote Me Upon The Subject Of A Lady Whom
She Had Recommended To My Mother As A Governess For My Sister, Who Was
Now In Her Sixteenth Year.
LIVERPOOL, August 16, 1830.
MY DEAR MRS. JAMESON,
Were It Not That I Have A Great Opinion Both Of Your Kindness And
Reasonableness, I Should Feel Rather Uncomfortable At The Period
Which Has Elapsed Since I Ought To Have Written To You; But I Am
Very Sorry Not To Have Been Able Sooner To Reply To Your Last Kind
Letter. I Shall Begin By Answering That Which Interested Me Most In
It, Which You Will Easily Believe Was What Regarded My Dear A----
And The Person Into Whose Hands She Is About To Be Committed. In
Proportion To The Value Of The Gem Is The Dread One Feels Of The
Flaws And Injuries It May Receive In The Process Of Cutting And
Polishing; And This, Of Course, Not In This Case Alone, But That Of
Every Child Who Still Is Parent To The
Comments (0)