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

     Passed Under Our Eyes, And Within The Space Of A Few Hours.

     I Have Heard Nothing Of My Brother; My Mother Distresses Me By

     Talking Of Him, Ignorant As She Is Of What Would Give Her So Much

     More Anxiety About Him. I Feel, While I Listen To Her, Almost

     Guilty Of Deceit; And Yet I Am Sure We Were Right In Doing For Her

     What She Cannot Do For Herself, Keeping Her Mind As Long As

     Possible In Comparative Tranquillity About Him.

     Our Sunday At Heaton Terminated With Much Solemn Propriety By Lord

     W---- Reading Aloud The Evening Prayers To The Whole Family,

     Visitors, And Servants Assembled; A Ceremony Which, Combined And

     Contrasted With So Much Of The Pomps And Vanities Of The World,

     Gave Me A Pleasant Feeling Toward These People, Who Live In The

     Midst Of Them Without Forgetting Better Things. I Mean To Make

     Studying German And Drawing (And Endeavoring To Abate My

     Self-Esteem) My Principal Occupations This Winter. I Have Met At

     Heaton Lord Francis Leveson Gower, The Translator Of "Faust." I

     Like Him Very Much; He Is A Young Man Of A Great Deal Of Talent,

     With A Charming, Gentle Manner, And A Very Handsome, Sweet Face.

     Good-By, Dear H----. Write To Me Soon, And Direct To No. 79 Great

     Russell Street, Bloomsbury. I Should Like To Find A Letter From You

     There, Waiting For Me.

Our Arrangement For Driving In To The Theater From Heaton Compelled Me

Once Or Twice To Sit Down To Dinner In My Theatrical Costume, A Device

For Saving Time In Dressing At The Theater Which Might Have Taxed My

Self-Possession Unpleasantly; But The Persons I Was Surrounded By Were

All Singularly Kind And Amiable To Me, And My Appearing Among Them In

These Picturesque Fancy Dresses Was Rather A Source Of Amusement To Us

All. Many Years After, A Lady Who Was Not Staying In The House, But Was

Invited From The Neighborhood To Dine At Heaton One Evening, Told Me How

Amazed She Had Been On The Sudden Wide Opening Of The Drawing-Room Doors

To See Me Enter, In Full Mediæval Costume Of Black Satin And Velvet, Cut

Titian Fashion, And With A Long, Sweeping Train, For Which Apparition

She Had Not Been Previously Prepared. Of Lord W---- I Have Already

Spoken, And Have Only To Add That, In Spite Of His Character Of A Mere

Dissipated Man Of Fashion, He Had An Unusual Taste For And Knowledge Of

Music, And Had Composed Some That Is Not Destitute Of Merit; He Played

Well On The Organ, And Delighted In That Noble Instrument, A Fine

Specimen Of Which Adorned One Of The Drawing-Rooms At Heaton. Moreover,

He Possessed An Accomplishment Of A Very Different Order, A Remarkable

Proficiency In Anatomy, Which He Had Studied Very Thoroughly. He Had

Made Himself Enough Of A Practical Surgeon To Be Able, On The Occasion

Of The Fatal Accident Which Befell Mr. Huskisson On The Day Of The

Opening Of The Railroad, To Save The Unfortunate Gentleman From Bleeding

To Death On The Spot, By Tying Up The Femoral Artery, Which Had Been

Severed. His Fine Riding In The Hunting-Field And On The Race-Course Was

A Less Peculiar Talent Among His Special Associates. Lady W---- Was

Strikingly Handsome In Person, And Extremely Attractive In Her Manners.

She Was Tall And Graceful, The Upper Part Of Her Face, Eyes, Brow, And

Forehead Were Radiant And Sweet, And, Though The Rest Of Her Features

Were Not Regularly Beautiful, Her Countenance Was Noble And Her Smile

Had A Peculiar Charm Of Expression At Once Winning And Mischievous. My

Father Said She Was Very Like Her Fascinating Mother, The Celebrated

Miss Farren. She Was Extremely Kind To Me, Petting Me Almost Like A

Spoiled Child, Dressing Me In Her Own Exquisite Riding-Habit And

Mounting Me On Her Own Favorite Horse, Which Was All Very Delightful To

Me. My Father And Mother Probably Thought The Acquaintance Of These

Distinguished Members Of The Highest English Society Advantageous To Me.

I Have No Doubt They Felt Both Pride And Pleasure In The Notice Bestowed

Upon Me By Persons So Much My Superiors In Rank, And Had A Natural

Sympathy In My Enjoyment Of All The Gay Grandeur And Kindly Indulgence

By Which I Was Surrounded At Heaton. I Now Take The Freedom To Doubt How

Far They Were Judicious In Allowing Me To Be So Taken Out Of My Own

Proper Social Sphere. It Encouraged My Taste For The Luxurious

Refinement And Elegant Magnificence Of A Mode Of Life Never Likely To Be

Mine, And Undoubtedly Increased My Distaste For The Coarse And Common

Details Of My Professional Duties Behind The Scenes, And The Sham

Splendors Of The Stage. The Guests At Heaton Of Whom I Have A Distinct

Remembrance Were Mr. And Lady Harriet Baring, Afterward Lord And Lady

Ashburton. I Knew Them Both In After-Life, And Liked Them Very Much; Mr.

Baring Was Highly Cultivated And Extremely Amiable; His Wife Was Much

Cleverer Than He, And In Many Respects A Remarkable Woman. The Beautiful

Sisters, Anne And Isabella Forrester, With Their Brother Cecil, Were At

Heaton At This Time. They Were Celebrated Beauties: The Elder, Afterward

Countess Of Chesterfield, Was A Brunette; The Younger, Who Married

Colonel Anson, The Most Renowned Lady-Killer Of His Day, Was A Blonde;

And They Were Both Of Them Exquisitely Pretty, And Used To Remind Me Of

The French Quatrain--

    "Vous Êtes Belle, Et Votre Soeur Est Belle;

     Entre Vous Deux, Tout Choix Serait Bien Doux.

     L'Amour Êtait Blond, Comme Vous,

     Mais Il Aimait Une Brune, Comme Elle."

They Had Beautiful Figures As Well As Faces, And Dressed Peculiarly And

So As To Display Them To The Greatest Advantage. Long And Very Full

Skirts Gathered Or Plaited All Round A Pointed Waist Were Then The

Fashion; These Lovely Ladies, With A Righteous Scorn Of All

Disfigurement Of Their Beauty, Wore Extremely Short Skirts, Which Showed

Their Thorough-Bred Feet And Ankles, And Were Perfectly Plain Round

Their Waists And Over Their Hips, With Bodies So Low On The Shoulders

And Bosom That There Was Certainly As Little As Possible Of Their

Beautiful Persons Concealed. I Remember Wishing It Were Consistent With

Her Comfort And The General Decorum Of Modern Manners That Isabella

Forrester's Gown Could Only Slip Entirely Off Her Exquisite Bust. I

Suppose I Felt As Poor Gibson, The Sculptor, Who, Looking At His Friend

And Pupil's (Miss Hosmer's) Statue Of Beatrice Cenci, The Back Of Which

Was Copied From That Of Lady A---- T----, Exclaimed In His Slow,

Measured, Deliberate Manner, "And To Think That The Cursed Prejudices Of

Society Prevent My Seeing That Beautiful Back!" Count And Countess

Batthyany (She The Former Widow Of The Celebrated Austrian General,

Bubna, A Most Distinguished And Charming Woman) Were Visitors At Heaton

At This Time, As Was Also Henry Greville, With Whom I Then First Became

Acquainted, And Who From That Time Until His Death Was My Kind And

Constant Friend. He Was For Several Years Attached To The Embassy In

Paris, And Afterward Had Some Small Nominal Post In The Household Of The

Duchess Of Cambridge, And Was Gentleman Gold-Stick In Waiting At Court.

He Was Not In Any Way Intellectually Remarkable; He Had A Passion For

Music, And Was One Of The Best Society Singers Of His Day, Being (That,

To Me, Incomprehensible Thing) A _Mélomane_ For One Kind Of Music Only.

Passionately Fond Of Italian Operatic Music, He Did Not Understand, And

Therefore Cordially Detested, German Music. He Had A Passion For The

Stage; But Though He Delighted In Acting He Did Not Particularly Excel

In It. He Had A Taste For Everything Elegant And Refined, And His Small

House In May-Fair Was A Perfect Casket Full Of Gems. He Was A Natural

Exquisite, And Perfectly Simple And Unaffected, A Great Authority In All

Matters Of Fashion Both In Paris And In London, And A Universal

Favorite, Especially With The Women, In The Highest Society Of Both

Capitals. His Social Position, Friendly Intimacy With Several Of The

Most Celebrated Musical And Dramatic Artists Of His Day, Passion For

Political And Private Gossip, Easy And Pleasant Style Of Letter-Writing,

And General Rather Supercilious Fastidiousness, Used Sometimes To Remind

Me Of Horace Walpole. He Had A Singularly Kind Heart And Amiable Nature,

For A Life Of Mere Frivolous Pleasure Had Not Impaired The One Or The

Other. His Serviceableness To His Friends Was Unwearied, And His

Generous Liberality Toward All Whom He Could Help Either With His

Interest, His Trouble, Or His Purse Was Unfailing.

The Whole Gay Party Assembled At Heaton, My Mother And Myself Included,

Went To Liverpool For The Opening Of The Railroad. The Throng Of

Strangers Gathered There For The Same Purpose Made It Almost Impossible

To Obtain A Night's Lodging For Love Or Money; And Glad And Thankful

Were We To Put Up With And Be Put Up In A Tiny Garret By Our Old Friend,

Mr. Radley, Of The Adelphi, Which Many Would Have Given Twice What We

Paid To Obtain. The Day Opened Gloriously, And Never Was Seen An

Innumerable Concourse Of Sight-Seers In Better Humor Than The Surging,

Swaying Crowd That Lined The Railroad With Living Faces. How Dreadfully

That Brilliant Opening Was Overcast I Have Described In The Letter Given

Above. After This Disastrous Event The Day Became Overcast, And As We

Neared Manchester The Sky Grew Cloudy And Dark, And It Began To Rain.

The Vast Concourse Of People Who Had Assembled To Witness The Triumphant

Arrival Of The Successful Travelers Was Of The Lowest Order Of Mechanics

And Artisans, Among Whom Great Distress And A Dangerous Spirit Of

Discontent With The Government At That Time Prevailed. Groans And Hisses

Greeted The Carriage, Full Of Influential Personages, In Which The Duke

Of Wellington Sat. High Above The Grim And Grimy Crowd Of Scowling Faces

A Loom Had Been Erected, At Which Sat A Tattered, Starved-Looking

Weaver, Evidently Set There As A _Representative Man_, To Protest

Against This Triumph Of Machinery, And The Gain And Glory Which The

Wealthy Liverpool And Manchester Men Were Likely To Derive From It. The

Contrast Between Our Departure From Liverpool And Our Arrival At

Manchester Was One Of The Most Striking Things I Ever Witnessed. The

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