Miss Eden's Letters Part 2

Mary is quite reviving to-night, and is making a deuce of a noise, and be hanged to her. My love to my Mother and all. Yours very affectionately,

AUCKLAND.

_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghams.h.i.+re._

_Monday, January 1815._

MY DEAR SISTER, I have not a guess how far Mary's journal[35] has been continued to you. She says, "The great amus.e.m.e.nt here seems to be eating, which goes on from morning till night. There is an immense breakfast for people to go in and out to, a large luncheon which stands two hours on the table, a very long dinner, and a regular supper, which altogether takes up half the day. To-day, by way of amus.e.m.e.nt, and keeping up an old custom, we have all been baking, that is, spoiling an enormous quant.i.ty of good things in the housekeeper's room, making some uneatable gingerbread and cakes, and ourselves very dirty. There are a quant.i.ty of children here, and all very nice ones seemingly. Lady Theresa Strangways[36] would be really a dear little thing, if Lady G.

Murray[37] would not talk and teaze one so about her stomach and teeth.

...Lady G. Murray is in greater beauty than ever, and happier than anybody I ever saw. She has two sons here."

_Tuesday_.

...I was so cross and stupid with a pain in my ear which I have had this week, and in such a fury with w.i.l.l.y Osborne[38] who made a point of dropping his shuttlec.o.c.k on my paper every minute, that I was obliged to leave off writing in order to fight with him, and when that battle was ended, he insisted on playing at Blind Man's Buff....

Mary seems quite delighted with her visit to Melbury, and even nearly reconciled to quitting Bowood, which she was very sorry to do. Sir George Paul,[39] nearly eighty years old, is very much struck with her, she says, and when she goes to the pianoforte puts on his spectacles, and sits opposite her, gazing on her beautiful countenance with great satisfaction.

He drank two gla.s.ses of wine with her at dinner, and all the other ladies insisted on his drinking one with them, that they might at least have half as much done for them as was done for Mary.

We are all in doubt whether to like Sir G. Paul best or Mr. Whishaw, a lawyer, about ten years younger, but with only one leg. But the poor man, George says, was terribly smitten, and if they had staid but two days longer at Bowood, it would have come to a happy conclusion.

I myself should prefer somebody rather older and steadier.

Lady Ilchester wrote to Mamma, to know whether she was to let this flirtation go on, as it does at present....

George writes in good spirits, and seems delighted with his tour and with Melbury, which is the pleasantest place he knows. He says Mary is in very good spirits and makes a deuce of a noise and that she is a great favourite wherever she goes, and he believes _deservedly_ so.

They neither of them seem to have any idea that they must ever come home again; but if ever they do I will let you know. Yours affectionately,

EMILY EDEN.

_Miss Eden to her Brother, Lord Auckland_.

EDEN FARM, _Monday, January_ 1815.

POOR DEAR LITTLE GEORGY, I am quite sorry it has been in such a fuss about the key, and I am afraid my last letter will not have set it's little heart at ease, but on Sunday morning Morton[40] and I hunted for an hour, and at last found the key tied with a _yellow_ ribbon, and not a blue one, and when we had found it and made Bob ride to Greenwich[41]

as fast as he could, he found Mr. Dyer laughing by himself at the fuss you and Morton were in. He said the chest was broken open at a quarter past twelve and is now broken up for life. Which of your brothers-in-law do you like best? because I cannot make up my mind quite to either, though I believe I like lame Whishaw better than the venerable Paul.

Mama is really fidgetty about them; and if you write again, will you let us know whether Mary is really as pleasant as she pretends to be and whether she did not make you underline the words "_deservedly liked_" in your last letter? Because it looked very suspicious.... Talking of Fooleys, by the bye, Mr. and Miss Vansittart come here this afternoon, and I am grown duller than ever. Thank you for your verses, which we liked very much. Ever your affectionate sister,

EMILY EDEN.

_Lord Auckland to Miss Eden_.

DROPMORE,[42]

_January_ 13, 1815.

MY DEAR EMILY, Here we are once more within 30 miles of home, came here late yesterday, everybody at dinner--Mary in such a fright you never saw--such a silence you never heard--room so hot you never felt--dinner so cold you never tasted--dogs so tiresome you never smelt. So we must go to Shottesbrook _bon gre, mal gre_. Hang labels round your necks when we arrive on Wednesday or Thursday with your names on them (like the decanters) for do what we will, Mary and I cannot recollect your faces.

Are you the one with the long nose?

Lady Riversdale's maid has had an offer of marriage, and she has refused it, because she "had not that attachment that ought to subside between man and wife."

Mind that, girls, and don't marry rashly. Yours, and a day no more foolish than yourself,

AUCKLAND.

_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghams.h.i.+re_.

EDEN FARM, _March_ 9 [1815].

MY DEAREST SISTER, As the Queen has been so uncivil and even spiteful to me and my sattin gown, as to put off the drawing-room, our three letters per day upon dress may now cease, and this is merely a letter of thanks for all the trouble you have taken with Wynne, Pontet, lace, notes, hoops, drapery, sattin, carriers, feathers, jewels, etc., and which have unluckily, by this strange and unaccountable spitefulness of H.M., all proved useless.

Poor Beckenham is gone mad about the corn laws,[43] and have revenged themselves on poor innocent harmless out-of-the-way George, by drawing him on the walls hanging as comfortably as possible, and Mr. Cator on another gibbet opposite to him. Mr. Colvile[44] is also hanging somewhere else.... Every house and wall is covered with mottoes, and "No corn laws" in every direction. Ever your affectionate,

E. EDEN.

_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghams.h.i.+re_.

EDEN FARM, _June_ 24 [1815].

MY DEAREST SISTER, We had not expected the satisfaction of two letters from you to-day.... A letter that condescends to speak of two housemaids, without talking of battles and Bonaparte, is a very delightful novelty, as I am quite tired of rejoicing and lamenting over this news[45] which, upon the whole, strikes me as very melancholy, though I know that is a very wrong feeling.

There have yet been no accounts of poor Lady Delancey![46] She must have had a horrible shock at first, as Sir William, believing himself to be dying, refused at first to be removed from the field of battle, which gave rise to the report of his death. Poor Lady I. Hay quitted London at six yesterday morning to inform her father,[47] who was in the country, of Lord Hay's death. He was not more than nineteen, and was a friend of Bob's at Eton.

The George Elliots[48] came here to dinner yesterday, with their youngest child, who is a very fine child, and as a baby, I thought its name might be interesting to you, though it was not very different from other children, except that it had, on its cap a lilac satin c.o.c.kade,[49] which is naturally a very pretty thing, though a baby sewed to it does not add to its beauty.

That is, however, a mere matter of taste.

Mrs. G. Elliot we all like, and she has full as much sense as the rest of the world, and would be as pleasant, if her manner was not rather hurried and rough, evidently from shyness and a fear of being thought dull.

Except these, we have not seen anybody, not even a neighbour, nor do I believe there are such things as neighbours left in the world, and it is much too hot to go and look for them if they are yet alive.

Mrs. Green, poor woman, seems to think you a little dull, but I always told you how it would be when you lost me, and I am glad to see Mrs.

Green has so much penetration. Ever your affectionate sister,

E. EDEN.

_Miss Eden to Lady Buckinghams.h.i.+re_.

_July_ 3, 1815.

We heard yesterday from the Selkirks[50] a certain account of poor Sir W. Delancey's death,[51] and we heard it also from several other good authorities. The Selkirks have been in town every day in hopes of hearing either of or from Lady Delancey, but without success. Her situation is most dreadful, as he died at Waterloo, so she is not near any acquaintance she might have made at Brussels. She is but eighteen, and literally just out of the nursery. She has with her only a new maid, whom Lady Selkirk procured for her but three weeks ago. It appears very shocking that none of her relations should have gone to her on hearing of his wound, as she will now have every detail to manage for herself, and her return to Penge, which she quitted in such violent spirits not a month ago, will be dreadful. The Selkirks expect her every hour.