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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Coach, And Found On Reaching It That, The Fourth Place Being
Occupied By A Sickly Looking Woman With A Sickly Looking Child
Nearly As Big As Herself In Her Lap, My Father, Notwithstanding The
Coldness Of The Morning, Had Put Himself On The Outside. I Went To
Sleep; From Which Blessed Refuge Of The Wretched I Was Recalled By
A Powerful And Indescribable Smell, Which, Seizing Me By The Nose,
Naturally Induced Me To Open My Eyes. Mother And Daughter Were Each
Devouring A Lump Of Black, Strong, Greasy Plum Cake; As A Specific,
I Presume, Against (Or For?) Sickness In A Stage-Coach.
Volume 1 Chapter 18 Pg 119
The Late Duke Of Beaufort, When Marquis Of Worcester, Used
Frequently To Amuse Himself By Driving The Famous Fast Brighton
Coach, The Highflyer. One Day, As My Father Was Hastily Depositing
His Shilling Gratuity In His Driver's Outstretched Hand, A Shout Of
Laughter, And A "Thank Ye, Charles Kemble," Made Him Aware Of The
Gentleman Jehu Under Whose Care He Had Performed The Journey.
WEDNESDAY, January 12, 1831.
DEAREST H----,
I Received Your Letter Dated The 7th The Night Before Last, And
Purposed Ending This Long Epistle Yesterday Evening With An Answer
To It, But Was Prevented By Having To Go With My Mother To Dine
With Mrs. L----, That Witty Woman And More Than Middle-Aged Beauty
You Have Heard Me Speak Of. I Was Repaid For The Exertion I Had Not
Made Very Willingly, For I Had A Pleasant Dinner. This Lady Has A
Large Family And Very Large Fortune, Which At Her Death Goes To Her
Eldest Son, Who Is A Young Man Of Enthusiastically Religious Views
And Feelings; He Has No Profession Or Occupation, But Devotes
Himself To Building Chapels And Schools, Which He Himself
Superintends With Unwearied Assiduity; And Though He Has Never
Taken Orders, He Preaches At Some Place In The City, To Which
Crowds Of People Flock To Hear Him; None Of Which Is At All
Agreeable To His Mother, Whose Chief Anxiety, However, Is Lest Some
One Of The Fair Methodists Who Attend His Exhortations Should
Admire His Earthly Expectations As Much As His Heavenly Prospects,
And Induce This Young Apostle To Marry Her For Her Soul's Sake; All
Which His Mother Told Mine, With Many Lamentations Over The Godly
Zeal Of Her "Serious" Son, Certainly Not Often Made With Regard To
Young Men Who Are Likely To Inherit Fine Fortunes And Estates. One
Of This Young Gentleman's Sisters Is Strongly Imbued With The Same
Religious Feeling, And I Think Her Impressions Deepened By Her Very
Delicate State Of Health. I Am Much Attracted By Her Gentle Manner,
And The Sweet, Serious Expression Of Her Face, And The Earnest Tone
Of Her Conversation; I Like Her Very Much.
My Mother Is Reading Moore's "Life Of Byron," And Has Fallen In
Love With The Latter And In Hate With His Wife. She Declares That
He Was Originally Good, Generous, Humble, Religious--Indeed,
Everything That A Man Can Be, Short Of Absolute Perfection. She
Thinks Me Narrow-Minded And Prejudiced Because I Do Not Care To
Read His Life, And Because, In Spite Of All Moore's Assertions, I
Maintain That With Byron's Own Works In One's Hand His Character
Cannot Possibly Be A Riddle To Anybody. I Dare Say The Devil May
Sometimes Be Painted Blacker Than He Is; But Byron Has A Fancy For
The Character Of Lucifer, And Seems To Me, On The Contrary, _Très
Pauvre Diable_. I Have No Idea That Byron Was Half Fiend, Half Man
(At Least, No More So Than All Of Us Are); I Dare Say He Was Not At
All Really An Atheist, As He Has Been Reputed; Indeed, I Do Not
Think Lord Byron, In Spite Of All The Fuss That Has Been Made About
Him, Was By Any Means An Uncommon Character. His Genius Was Indeed
Rare, But His Pride, Vanity, And Selfishness Were Only So In
Volume 1 Chapter 18 Pg 120Degree. You Know, H----, Nobody Was Ever A More Fanatical Worshiper
Of His Poetry Than I Was: Time Was That I Devoured His Verses
(Poison As They Were To Me) Like "Raspberry Tarts;" I Still Know,
And Remember With Delight, Their Exquisite Beauty And Noble Vigor,
But They Don't Agree With Me. And, Without Knowing Anything Of His
Religious Doubts Or Moral Delinquencies, I Cannot At All Agree With
Mr. Moore That Upon The Showing Of His Own Works Byron Was A "Good
Man." If He Was, No One Has Done Him Such Injustice As Himself; And
If _He_ Was _Good_, Then What Was Milton? And What Genial And
Gentle Shakespeare?
Good-By, Dear H----; Write Me Along "Thank You" For This Longest Of
Mortal Letters, And Believe That I Am Your Ever Affectionate
F. A. K.
I Began Living Upon My Allowance On New Year's Day, And Am Keeping
A Most Rigorous Account Of Every Farthing I Spend. I Have A
Tolerable "Acquisitiveness" Among My Other Organs, But Think I
Would Rather Get Than Keep Money, And To Earn Would Always Be
Pleasanter To Me Than To Save. I Act In "Fazio" To-Night, Friday,
And Monday Next, So You Will Know Where To Find Me On Those
Evenings.
MONDAY, 27th.
DEAR H----,
Horace Twiss Has Been Out Of Town, And I Have Been Obliged To Delay
This For A Frank. You Will Be Glad, I Know, To Hear That "Fazio"
Has Made A Great Hit. Milman Is Coming To See Me In It To-Night; I
Wish I Could Induce Him To Write Me Such Another Part.
We Are Over Head And Ears In The Mire Of Chancery Again. The
Question Of The Validity Of Our--The Great Theater--Patents Is Now
Before Lord Brougham; I Am Afraid They Are Not Worth A Farthing. I
Am To Hear From Mr. Murray Some Day This Week; Considering The
Features Of My Handwriting, It Is No Wonder It Has Taken Him Some
Time To Become Acquainted With The MSS.
GREAT RUSSELL STREET, January 29, 1831.
MY DEAR H----,
All Our Occupations Have Been Of A Desultory And Exciting Kind, And
All Our Doings And Sayings Have Been Made Matter Of Surprise And
Admiring Comment; Of Course, Therefore, We Are Disinclined For
Anything Like Serious Or Solid Study, And Naturally Conclude That
Sayings And Doings So Much Admired And Wondered At _Are_ Admirable
And Astonishing. A---- Is Possessed Of Strong Powers Of Ridicule,
And The Union Of This Sarcastic Vein With A Vivid Imagination Seems
To Me Unusual; Their Prey Is So Different That They Seldom Hunt In
Company, I Think. When I Heard That She Was Reading "Mathilde"
(Madame Cottin), I Was Almost Afraid Of Its Effect Upon Her. I
Volume 1 Chapter 18 Pg 121Remember At School, When I Was Her Age, Crying Three Whole Days And
Half Nights Over It; But I Sadly Overrated Her Sensibility. Her
Letter To Me Contained A Summary, Abusive Criticism Of "Mathilde"
As A Book, And Ended By Presenting To Me One Of Those Ludicrous
Images Which I Abhor, Because, While They Destroy Every Serious Or
Elevated Impression, They Are So Absurd That One Cannot Defend
One's Self From The "Idiot Laughter" They Excite, And Leave One No
Associations But Grinning Ones With One's Romantic Ideals. Her
Letters Are Very Clever And Make Me Laugh Exceedingly, But I Am
Sorry She Has Such A Detestation Of Mrs. Marcet And Natural
Philosophy. As For Her Letters Being Shown About, I Am Not Sorry
That My Indiscretion Has Relieved A---- From A Restraint Which, If
It Had Only Been Disagreeable To Her, Would Not Have Mattered So
Much, But Which Is Calculated To Destroy All Possibility Of Free
And Natural Correspondence, And Inevitably Renders Letters Mere
Compositions And Their Young Authors Vain And Pretentious. I Have
Always Thought The System A Bad One, For Under It, If A Girl's
Letters Are Thought Dull, She Feels As If She Had Made A Failure,
And If They Are Laughed At And Passed From Hand To Hand With Her
Knowledge, The Result Is Much Worse; And In Either Case, What She
Writes Is No Longer The Simple Expression Of Her Thoughts And
Feelings, But Samples Of Wit, Ridicule, And Comic Fancy Which Are
To Be Thought Amusing And Clever By Others Than Those To Whom They
Are Addressed.
You Say My Mother In Her Note To You Speaks Well Of My Acting In
Bianca. It Has Succeeded Very Well, And I Think I Act Some Of It
Very Well; But My Chief Pleasure In Its Success Was Certainly Her
Approbation. She Is A Very Severe Critic, And, As She Censures
Sharply, I Am Only Too Thankful When I Escape Her Condemnation. I
Think You Will Be Pleased With Bianca. I Was Surprised When I Came
To Act It At Finding How Terribly It Affected Me, For I Am Not
Naturally At All Jealous, And In This Play, While Feigning To Be
So, It Seemed To Me That It Must Be Really The Most Horrible
Suffering Conceivable; I Am Almost Sorry That I Can Imagine It Well
Enough To Represent It Well.
You Say That We Love Intellect, But I Do Not Agree With You; I Do
Not Think Intellect Excites Love. I Do Not Even Think That It
Increases Our Love For Those We Do Love, Though It Adds Admiration
To Our Affection. I Certainly Do Admire Intellect Immensely; Mental
Power, Which Allied To Moral Power, Goodness, Is A Force To Uphold
The Universe.
I Have Forsworn All Discussions About Byron; My Mother And I Differ
So Entirely On The Subject That, As I Cannot Adopt Her View Of His
Character, I Find It Easier To Be Silent About My Own.
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