Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2), Frances Ann Kemble [i can read book club .txt] 📗
- Author: Frances Ann Kemble
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Various Fantastic Head-Gear Of Each Successive Parisian "Fashion Of The
Volume 1 Chapter 18 Pg 113Day." As A Girl She Had Been Remarkably Slender, But She Grew To An
Enormous Size, Without The Increased Bulk Of Her Person Disfiguring Or
Rendering Coarse Her Beautiful Face.]
Thursday I Acted Lady Townley, And Acted It Abominably Ill, And Was
Much Mortified To Find That Cecilia Had Got My Cousin Harry To
Chaperon Her Two Boys To The Play That Night; Because, As He Never
Before Went To See Me Act, It Is Rather Provoking That The Only
Time He Did So I Should Have Sent Him To Sleep, Which He Gallantly
Assured Me I Did. I Do Not Find Cousins So Much More Polite Than
Brothers (One's Natural Born Plagues). Harry's Compliment To My
Acting Had Quite A Brotherly Tenderness, I Think. Friday, New
Year's Eve, We Went To A Ball At Mrs. G----'S, Which I Did Not Much
Enjoy; And Yesterday, New Year's Day, Henry And I Spent The Evening
At Mrs. Harry's. There Was No One There But Cecy And Her Two Boys,
And We Danced, Almost Without Stopping, From Eight Till Twelve.
[The Lads My Cousin Cecilia Called Her Boys Were The Two Younger Sons Of
Her Brother George Siddons, Mrs. Siddons's Eldest Son, Then And For Many
Years After Collector Of The Port At Calcutta. These Lads And Their
Sisters Were Being Educated In England, And Were Spending Their
Christmas Holidays With Their Grandmother, Mrs. Siddons. The Youngest Of
These Three Schoolboys, Henry, Was The Father Of The Beautiful Mrs.
Scott-Siddons Of The Present Day. It Was In The House Of My Cousin
George Siddons, Then One Of The Very Pleasantest And Gayest In Calcutta,
That His Young Nephew Harry, Son Of His Sister-In-Law, My Dear Mrs.
Harry Siddons, Was To Find A Home On His Arrival In India, And
Subsequently A Wife In Harriet, The Second Daughter Of The House.]
I Am To Act Juliet To-Morrow, And Calista On Thursday; Friday And
Saturday I Am To Act Mrs. Haller And Lady Townley At Brighton. I
Shall See The Sea, That's One Comfort, And It Will Be Something To
Live Upon For Some Time To Come. Next Wednesday Week I Am To Come
Out In Bianca, In Milman's "Fazio." Do You Know The Play? It Is
Very Powerful, And My Part Is A Very Powerful One Indeed. I Have
Hopes It May Succeed Greatly. Mr. Warde Is To Be My Fazio, For, I
Hear, People Object To My Having My Father's Constant Support, And
Wish To See Me Act _Alone_; What Geese, To Be Sure! I Wonder
Whether They Think My Father Has Hold Of Strings By The Means Of
Which He Moves My Arms And Legs! I Am Very Glad Something Likely To
Strike The Public Is To Be Given Before "Inez De Castro" (A Tragedy
Of Miss Mitford's), For It Will Need All The Previous Success Of A
Fine Play And Part To Carry Us Safely Through That.
I Have Not Seen Mr. Murray Again; I Conclude He Is Out Of Town Just
Now.
We Have Made All Inquiries About Poor Dear A----'S Trunk, And Of
Course, As Soon As We Hear Of It, It Will Be Sent To Her; I Am Very
Sorry For Her, Poor Dear Little Child, But I Advise Her, When She
Does Get Them, To Put On Each Of Her New Dresses For An Hour By
Turns, And Sit Opposite The Glass In Them. Good-By, Dear H----.
Your Affectionate
Volume 1 Chapter 18 Pg 114
F. K.
GREAT RUSSELL STREET, 6th January, 1831.
DEAREST H----,
I Have Only Time To Say Two Words To You, For I Am In The Midst Of
Preparations For Our Flight To Brighton, To-Morrow. Thank You For
Your Last Letter; I Liked It Very Much, And Will Answer It At
Length When We Come Back To Town.
Mr. Murray Has Got My MSS., But I Have Yet Heard Nothing About It
From Him. My Fire Is Not In That Economical Invention, The
"Miserable Basket" [An Iron Frame Fitting Inside Our Common-Sized
Grate To Limit The Extravagant Consumption Of Coal], But Well
Spread Out In The Large Comfortable Grate; Yet I Am Sitting With My
Door And Windows All Wide Open; It Is A Lovely, Bright, Mild Spring
Day. I Do Not Lose My Time Any More Of A Morning Watching The Fire
Kindling, For The Housemaid Lights It Before I Get Out Of Bed, So
My Poetry And Philosophy Are Robbed Of A Most Interesting Subject
Of Meditation.
With Regard To What You Say About A----, I Do Not Know That I
Expected Her To Love, Though I Was Sure She Would Admire, Nature;
She Is Very Young Yet, And Her Quick, Observant Mind And Tendency
To Wit And Sarcasm Make Human Beings More Amusing, If Not More
Interesting, To Her Than Inanimate Objects. It Is Not The Beauty Of
Nature Alone, As It Appeals Merely To Our Senses, That Produces
That Passionate Love For It Which Induces Us To Prefer Communion
With It To The Intercourse Of Our Fellows. The Elevated Trains Of
Thought, And The Profound And Sublime Aspirations Which The
External Beauty Of The World Suggests, Draw And Rivet Our Mind And
Soul To Its Contemplation, And Produce A Sort Of Awful Sense Of
Companionship With The Unseen, Which Cannot, I Think, Be An
Experience Of Early Youth. For Then The Volatile, Vivid, And
Various Spirit, With Its Sympathizing And Communicative Tendency,
Has A Strong Propensity To Spend Itself On That Which Can Return
Its Value In Like Commodity; And Exchange Of Thought And Feeling Is
A Preponderating Desire And Necessity, And Human Fellowship And
Intercourse Is Naturally Attractive To Unworn And Unwearied Human
Nature. I Suppose The Consolatory Element In The Beautiful
_Un_Human World In Which We Live Is Not Often Fully Appreciated By
The Young, They Want Comparatively So Little Of It; Youth Is Itself
So Thoroughly Its Own Consoler. Some Years Hence, I Dare Say A----
Will Love Both The Sea And Sky Better Than She Does Now. To A
Certain Degree, Too, The Love Of Solitude, Which Generally
Accompanies A Deep Love For Nature, Is A Kind Of Selfishness That
Does Not Often Exist In Early Life.
I Am Desired To Close This Letter Immediately; I Have Therefore
Only Time To Add That I Act Calista To-Night Here, Mrs. Haller
To-Morrow At Brighton, And Saturday, Also There, Lady Townley. On
Monday I Act Juliet Here, And On Wednesday Bianca In "Fazio"--When
Pray For Me! Now You Know Where To Think Of Me. I Will Write To You
Volume 1 Chapter 18 Pg 115A _Real_ Letter On Sunday.
Kiss A---- For Me, And Do Not Be Unhappy, My Dear, For You Will
Soon See Me Again; And In The Meantime I Advise You, As You Think
My Picture So Much More Agreeable Than Myself, To Console Yourself
With That. Good-By.
Your Affectionate
FANNY.
The Fascination Of Sitting By A Brook And Watching The Lapsing Water,
Or, On The Sands, The Oncoming, Uprising, Breaking, And Melting Away Of
The White Wave-Crests, Is, I Suppose, Matter Of Universal Experience. I
Do Not Know Whether Watching Fire Has The Same Irresistible Attraction
For Everybody. It Has Almost A Stronger Charm For Me; And The Hours I
Have Spent Sitting On The Rug In Front Of My Grate, And Watching The
Wonderful Creature Sparkling And Glowing There, Have Been Almost More
Than I Dare Remember. I Was Obliged At Last, In Order Not To Waste Half
My Day In The Contemplation Of This Bewitching Element, To Renounce A
Practice I Long Indulged In Of Lighting My Own Fire; But To This Moment
I Envy The Servant Who Does That Office, Or Should Envy Her But That She
Never Remains On Her Knees Worshiping The Beautiful, Subtle Spirit She
Has Evoked, As I Could Still Find It In My Heart To Do.
I Think I Remember That Shelley Had This Passion For Fire-Gazing; It's A
Comfort To Think That Whatever He Could _Say_, He Could Never _See_ More
Enchanting Things In His Grate Than I Have In Mine; But Indeed, Even For
Shelley, The Motions And The Colors Of Flames Are Unspeakable.
GREAT RUSSELL STREET, January 9, 1831.
DEAR H----,
I Promised You A Letter To-Day, And If I Can Do So Now, At Least I
Will Begin To Keep My Promise, Though I Think It Possible My
Courage May Fail Me After The First Side Of My Sheet Of Paper. We
Arrived In Town From Brighton On This Afternoon At Four O'clock,
And Though It Is Not Yet Ten I Am So Weary, And Have So Much To Do
To-Morrow (Rehearsing "Fazio" And Acting Juliet), That I Think I
Shall Not Sit Up Much Longer To-Night, Even To Write To You.
We Found My Mother Tolerably Well, And Henry, Who Had Been Out
Skating All Day, In Great Beauty And High Spirits. I Must Now Tell
You What I Had Not Room For When I Wrote You Those Few Lines In
A----'S Letter.
Mr. Barton, A Friend Of John's Who Traveled With Him In Germany,
And Whose Sister Has Lately Married John Sterling (Of Whom You Have
Often Heard Us Speak), Called Here The Other Day, And During The
Course Of A Long Visit Told Us A Great Deal Of The Very Beginning
Of This Spanish Expedition, And Of The Share Mr. Sterling And
Richard Trench [The Present Venerable Archbishop Of Dublin] Had In
Its Launching.
It Seems (Though He Would Not Say Whence They Derived Them) That
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