Records Of A Girlhood Volume 1 (1 Of 2) by Frances Ann Kemble (best e reader for android .txt) 📕

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Had At That Time Withdrawn Myself Entirely From Society, And Went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.

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

Of 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,

And 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