Miss Eden's Letters Part 29

HAM COMMON, _Monday evening, October 28, 1834._

DEAREST THERESA, I am kind to write to-night, for f.a.n.n.y and I poked out an old backgammon board of the General's[413] and began to play, and I beat her two single games and a gammon, so that in coming to my letter I am probably leaving "fortune at the flood, and all my after life will be bound in flats and shallows." All your fault.

Our cottage is a real little cottage, belonging to an old General Eden who, on the score of relations.h.i.+p, let us have it for almost nothing. It is very clean and old bachelorish, and he lets with it an old housemaid who scolds for half-an-hour if a grain of seed drops from the bird's cage, or if Chance[414] whisks a hair out of his tail; we are grown so tidy and as she is otherwise an obliging old body, she has been an advantage to us. We took the house only by the week, and as my health has entirely recovered the complete break-up it came to, from our long detention in London, and as his Lords.h.i.+p is living alone at that Admiralty, we depart on Wednesday to settle ourselves there till the Government changes, or I am ill again. However, I do not mind London so much in cold weather. I have been very busy this last week _setting up_ house, as the Ministers will be most of them in town next month without their families, and George has announced an intention to make the Admiralty pleasant to his colleagues. I have but one idea of the manner in which that is to be achieved, and hope the cook may turn out as well as Mr. Orby Hunter's recommendation promises. Oh dear! I dread the sight of their dear old faces again, and of that "full of business" manner which they get into when they meet in any number.

I wish I could write like Mrs. Hannah More, and have money enough to build myself a Barley Wood,[415] and resolution to go and live there. I am so taken by that book and amazingly encouraged by it, for she was as dissipated and as wicked as any of us for the first half of our life, so there is no saying whether we may not turn out good for something at last.

We have been here eleven weeks, quite alone, but walking and driving eternally, and very few interruptions except an occasional visit from, or to, the F. Egertons and W. de Roos's, and a royal dinner, luncheon, and party at the Studhouse, which always turns out amusing. The King is so good-natured that it does not signify his being a little ridiculous or so; it is impossible not to love him. The Albemarles[416] do the thing in the handsomest manner as far as the dinner, establishment, etc., goes, and I think the Studhouse a charming possession. She always gets all the King's Ministers that she can find to meet him, and it charms me to hear her _judgments_ of people:--How unlucky that the Spring-Rices should _look_ less well at a dinner than the Stanleys; and what luck she was in in having such a showy person as Lady Bingham last year in the neighbourhood; not adverting to the possibility that one person may be pleasanter than the others, and admitting that, their position being changed, they do not amount to being _persons_ at all.

I suppose that things are going on well, for I never saw people in greater glee than the Ministers are. Lord Melbourne is in the highest state of spirits, which seems to me odd for the Prime Minister of the country. They all went off from the last luncheon at the Studhouse early, leaving only the W. de Roos's, f.a.n.n.y and me and Lord Hill[417] to go round Hampton Court Palace with the King,--a long and curious process, as he shows it just like a housekeeper with a story for each picture. It was pitch dark, so it does not much matter if the pictures were as improper as the stories, for I saw none of them, but it lasted two hours, and in the meantime the Ministers, having had their dinner so early, had set fire to the two Houses of Parliament just for a _ploy_ for the evening.[418] That is the sort of view the Tories take of it, and it sounds plausible, you see; and from Lord Hill's staying to see the Palace it is clear he had not been let into that plot.

No, I did not see the fire,--wish I had--will trouble them to do it all over again when there are more people in town. Is Lord Fordwich the new Under Secretary? I asked George and he said he did not know, and I asked Lord Melbourne and he said he could not tell me--both very good answers in their way and such as I am used to, but it leaves the fact of Fordwich's appointment doubtful, and I heard from Lady Cowper three days ago and she said nothing about it.

There was a great _sough_ of India for about a fortnight, but I always said it was too bad to be true, which is a dangerous a.s.sertion to make in most cases, it only hastens the catastrophe. But this was such an extreme case, such a horrible supposition, that there was nothing for it but to bully it; and the danger is over now. Botany Bay would be a joke to it. There is a decent climate to begin with, and the fun of a little felony first. But to be sent to Calcutta for no cause at all!! At all events, I should hardly have got there before George got home again, for I should have walked across the country to join him, if I had gone at all. I think I see myself going into a s.h.i.+p for five months! I would not do it for 1000 per day.

Good-night, dearest Theresa. I see _Ann Grey_ is out, and rather expect that will turn out to be yours too. Is it?[419] Your ever affectionat

E. E.

[In November 1834 the King dismissed Lord Melbourne, and sent for the Duke of Wellington, who advised that Sir Robert Peel should form a Government. Peel's return from Italy did not take place till December 9, and the Duke in the meantime a.s.sumed control of various offices, thereby giving offence to the Whigs. He became Foreign Secretary under Peel.]

_Miss Eden to Mrs. Lister._

ADMIRALTY, _Monday, November 23, 1834._

MY DEAREST THERESA, Yes,--you see it all just in the right light; but what will come of it n.o.body can say.... The truth is, till Sir Robert or his answer comes, they have not the least idea themselves what they are to do, or to say, or to think, and I should not be the least surprised if he were to refuse to come, and many people think that from the ridicule of the Duke's position and conduct now, the whole thing may crumble away before Sir Robert can arrive.

The King is said to be very cross about it, and at the unconst.i.tutional state of affairs. It has been the oddest want of courtesy on the Duke's part insulting the Ministers for his own _in_convenience. Mr.

Spring-Rice's[420] _keys_, besides his seals, were sent for two hours after the Duke kissed hands on Monday, so that he could not remove his private letters even, and has never been able to get them since. He is naturally the _gentlest_ man I ever saw, but is in that state of exasperation that he would do anything to show his resentment.

On Friday the Duke sent to Lord Conyngham to say he begged he would dispose of no more patronage, to which Lord Conyngham answered very properly that he had resigned, and was keeping the office solely for the Duke's convenience (it is a patent office), and that he would leave it with pleasure the next minute, but as long as he remained there he should certainly do what he thought best with his patronage. The Chancellor[421] was to have given up the seals on Sat.u.r.day, when he would have cleared off all arrears and closed the courts, etc., and this was understood at the beginning of the week; but on Thursday the Duke wrote to him that he must give up the Great Seal on Friday morning. It appears that n.o.body but the King has a right to ask for the Great Seal, so the Chancellor wrote to tell the Duke what was the proper _etiquette_, and at the same time wrote to Lord Lyndhurst, with whom he is on the most amicable terms, saying that the Duke, besides being three Secretaries of State, President of the Council, etc., was now going to be Lord Chancellor, so he should give notice to the Bar that the Duke would give judgment on Friday afternoon, and sit to hear Motions on Sat.u.r.day morning. He came here quite enchanted with the serious answer from Lord Lyndhurst, saying the Duke had no such notion, etc.

I suppose anything equal to the ill-treatment of Lord Melbourne never was known.

The Tories go on a.s.serting, in the teeth of his _advertised contradiction_ (for he was driven to that), that he dissolved the Government, and advised the Duke, etc. There is not a _shadow_ of foundation for that. He went down to Brighton to propose the new Chancellor of the Exchequer, not antic.i.p.ating any difficulty. His colleagues were all dining here that day, and were expecting him back perhaps in the evening, as he had so little to do! He found everything he said met by objection, and at last the King asked for a night's consideration, and on Friday put a letter into Lord Melbourne's hand, very civil personally to him, but saying he meant to send for the Duke.

Lord Melbourne never expressed any difficulty about carrying on the government; never complained of difficulties in the Cabinet, which do not exist; never advised a successor,--in short, it was as great a surprise to him as to the rest of the world, and as the Court Party go on saying the contrary, I mention this.

The truth is that that party--Lady T. Sydney, Miss D'Este, the Howes, Brownlows, etc., have all been working on his, the King's, fears, and exacted a promise that when Lord Spencer[422] died the King should try the Tories, which he has quite a right to do; but he should not have forced Lord Melbourne to take that office of great responsibility and then have dismissed him without any reason, or without Lord Melbourne's making any difficulties, and he made _none_. I could convince you of this by several notes from him, besides the fact being now generally known. He says in one note: "I do not like to tell my story; I cannot.

Besides, I hate to be considered ill-used; I have always thought complaints of ill-usage contemptible, whether from a seduced disappointed girl, or a turned out Prime Minister." So like him! Our people have all been very cheerful this time, and it has been _privately_ an amusing week.

Ours is the only official home left open, and as the poor things were all turned adrift, with nothing to do, and nowhere to go, they have dined here most days (I have found _such_ a cook!), and several others have come in, in the evening.

Our plans are beautifully vague. We have no home, and no place, and no nothing; but as we have a right to a month's residence after our successor is gazetted, and as he cannot be appointed for a fortnight, there is time enough to look about us. George leans to a place in the country large enough to give _him_ some amus.e.m.e.nt, and that is cheaper than a small villa which I should rather prefer, but either would do very well. In short, I do not much care so as he pleases himself. We have _esquived_ India, a constant source of pleasure to me, though I keep it snug, as he is rather disappointed at having missed it, so I must not seem so thankful as I am. I should like to go abroad for a few months, but the session will probably be an interesting one and he would not like to be out of the way. Your ever affectionate

E. E.

CHAPTER X

1835-1837

_Lady Campbell to Miss Eden._

_July, 1835._

I HAVE really escaped with my life--_I ain't dead yet_, but such a big monster of a girl![423]--a regular Megalonia of a female, that if you happened to find a loose joint of hers you would think it must belong to an antediluvian Ox. Je vous demande un peu what am I to do with a seventh girl of such dimensions?

Well, my own darling, your letter came just as I was allowed to read, and it cheered me and delighted me, because you know we cannot help thinking just the same, and my weak sides shook with laughter, and then I cried because I do love you so much that I take a pining to see you, and I am sure you do long to have me within reach of your s.h.i.+p Hotel or s.h.i.+p Inn, for you are too wise to look upon it as more than your Hostelrie!...

Do you remember how we always liked a maxim? I like a maxim, and I like a good stout axiom, and a good compact system laid out straight without any exception in any rule, a good due North and South argument, and without any of your dippings of needle and variation of the compa.s.s. All this we had in the Tories--but, alas, where are they now? _Ils ne sont plus ces jours_, and I believe _we are_ the Tories. I think that Lord Winchester, _e tutti quanti_, must feel like the old woman after her _reveil_ when she found her petticoat cut off above the knee by that most clever pedlar Peel.

Do you ever see him now? What a fight Peel made of it, and as Plunkett[424] said to me, "Alone he did it," and I forgive him two or three sins, because, that tho' he is a bad Chancellor, he loves the Immortal.

My dear, I grieve to say what a _desperately good_ Chancellor Sugden made.[425] Couldn't we hire him? All parties liked him except the ultra-radical dreg of the canaille. He is vain and pompous; but he amused me because his vanity is of such a communicative nature that he would talk his character out to me by the hour, and I like any confession, even a fool's. But a clever man's is very amusing, and I pick out a bit of human nature and human character as attentively as I see botanists pick petals and pistils.

It is very good of Lord Auckland to stand for my girl. I really believe she is harmless, for she could knock me down, but she is merciful! What shall we call her? I had some thoughts of Rhinocera. She was born the day the Rhinoceros landed, or Cuvier,[426] because I was reading his life and works just before she was born, and took a pa.s.sion for him.

Might she not be called Eden?--Her other name is to be Madeline--her G.o.dmother's name....

My baby was christened Caroline Frances Eden, and I constantly call her Eden. I think it sounds very feminine and _Eve_-ish.

_Miss Eden to Lady Campbell._

ADMIRALITY, _July 1835._

MY OWN DEAREST PAM, George wrote to tell you of the awful change in our destination,[427] and I have been so worried, and have had so much to do with seeing and hearing the representations of friends, and taking leave of many who are gone out of town and whom I shall never see again, that I could not write.

Besides, what is there to say, except, "G.o.d's will be done." It all comes to that. I certainly look at the climate with dread, and to the voyage with utter aversion. Then, we leave a very happy existence here, and then, worst of all, we leave my sisters and a great many friends.

But still, there is always another side to the question, and I suppose we shall find it in time. One thing is quite certain, I could not have lived here without George, so I may be very thankful that my health has been so good this year that I have no difficulty on that account, as to going with him. And as other people have liked India and have come back to say so, perhaps we shall do the same.

What I would give for a talk with you--that you might put it all in a cheerful light. It makes no difference in our affection or _communion_ that has stood the test of such long absence that 14,000 miles more will not break it down.

I am going to-morrow for ten days to Mary [Drummond]; she is in a desperate way about our plans....

By all means stick an "Eden" into your child's name. Your most affectionate

E. E.

_Miss Eden to Lady Campbell_.

ADMIRALTY, _[August] 1835._