Letter from Emma Evans to her cousin, Arthur Phelps.  Transcribed from a photocopy of part of the original in July 2012 and a scan of the remainder in September 2014, by Penelope Forrest, born Phelps, great granddaughter of Arthur.

 

                                                                        Bosworth Dec 17th    [1853]

 

My dearest Pumpy,

            I made up my mind that I would not write to you till I had heard first from you – was it very sulky of me?  Perhaps I should not have made the resolution if I had known how short a time longer you were going to be in England.  It is a family fallacy that every one else tells everything – so the consequence is that no one ever knows anything – & the letters from you & Sib this morning were the first to give me any notion of your movements – or I should say, the letter from Sib – for you say nothing.  I am more sorry at the present arrangements than I can or need to tell you.  I somehow had quite made up my mind to see you again – & had meant to victimise you, & make you sit to me for a pendant (shall I say "pendard") to my sketch of old Nurse – so you see your not coming spoils the symmetry of my picture arrangements as well as other evils.  Why did you not write to me before, old boy?  You know that the "too busy" excuse never goes down with me for one moment; it would not have taken 5 minutes just to tell us you were through1.  Schetky2 did however.  When you get out to India you must not forget how much, how very much dear Pumpy, we care for you here.  You must write me good long letters – not to be entirely filled with topographical details I beg – but about yourself.  You know I prefer the egotistical style to any other in letters & I shall want to know all about you there very much.  You will probably see Mrs Miles & her little boy – of whose existence you perhaps have not heard.  Mind you give my best love to her.  I wonder how Staffy will get on.  He never by any chance writes to any of us though we have all written to him.

            I am working for another bazaar I am sorry to say.  Jenny leaves us on Monday for A H3 Farm.  She has been doing a small Bassy4 in oils for me – such a nice one – & that, with her drawing of Papa has made such a revolution on my walls that I don't know where to hang anything as there are no pairs.  I am glad you have at last made up your mind to like Bassy.  I knew you must if only you knew him.  I wish he were stronger.  I wonder how he will get on at a curacy by himself away from us all.  One cannot help rather wishing that the Cadeby plan had come to pass.

            I am sorry for what you say about John's looks - over-work is so very bad for him or indeed anyone.  I wish he would come to Bosworth & be dull for a week or two.

            I agree with you about Sib5 ­ but I think we are wrong.  He is so kind to his sisters – he is thinking of taking a large house & having them to live with him.  As to the magnificent piece of sculpture, how would that agree with the small Emmas?  Do you think Mr Emma would approve of my living in the studio in an atmosphere of marble-dust, & attempting in an absent fit to carve the mutton with a chisel? or to try a new form on the butter?  "I dinna ken how ye'd agree."  Well one is about as probable as the other.  I have been doing a little modeling lately – a small boy on a mushroom, ringing harebells & singing to them - just enough to show more & more clearly that I can do nothing.  The beginning is all very well but when it comes to details I am all at sea – & yet, if that were all I would probably be a great sculptor in the course of a few years.  It is possible enough to acquire the language – what I want is things worth saying.  Perhaps that is enough about myself for the present.

            I heard from Madlle, I am very happy to say, the other day.  She does not give a very cheerful account of herself & her plans are no more defined than before.  Her brother in law is hopelessly ill - as I think you know - with softening of the brain or something of that kind.  She did receive the seal all right which I am glad of, but she is very doubtful about whether you ever received the purse she made for you by Nina's hands. You must write to her as soon as you can. I dare say you will have plenty of time on board ship.  Her direction is Mlle H, avec Me Dornier, 24 Rue de la Préfecture, Besançon, France. She is very sorry indeed to hear of your not going to Madeira. It is such a nice letter – as always.

            Heigh-ho – there are the bells practising for Xmas. How I wish you could be here for it, dear old boy – very foolish to say so though, is it not? Yes, you are very young indeed to be a man on your own account – & very often & anxiously I think about you. I do so wish you would entirely give up wine & beer – not that I think you are likely to take to drinking in earnest, but I so firmly believe that almost all in hot climates – & most in cold – would be better without. Papa, who so firmly thought himself the better for his Madeira, has given it up for more than a week past, & has felt himself decidedly the better for the change – his appetite has been much better since doing so – and young people of course require it still less. Uncle Tom would not have come back as he is, perhaps not at all, if he had not been a water-drinker. Bassy says he does not like water – it reminds him of pills, but that is an objection by no means insuperable, & if only you have the good fortune to be laughed at once or twice for it, I really hope you will become a water-drinker.

            What is to be done with the things you left behind you? Various books, Aytoun's Lays, some nos of Bleak House, a little Prayer book &c? I have asked you before & have never received an answer, so I suppose I shall not now. If Ticek's book had been among them I might have pocketed them & said nothing about it.

            I have not seen Miss Hook since I came home, but I hear she is pretty well & cheerful, though growing blinder. I do not see why she should not have that operation performed after a time. That old cousin of our's, Harriette Evans has – & sees very fairly now.

            There was a note from Sam6 to Papa this morning which would have amused you. He says that Tom had a prize, "a beastly little book worth a shilling" – written so; rather amusing, to his old schoolmaster.

            I don't know anything about Clara's movements, as I suppose she has not time to write to me – & Fanny I suppose has not temper, though I dare say she is very busy getting you ready to go. Do find time to write as soon as possible, to Papa or someone, & tell us all about your arrangements – whether you take books, and what you shall do with them in India &c &c &c.

            Julia Honeywill has been very ill, but is better. Pumps, I shall want you very much in a day or two, to put on your poncho & carry tea & sugar for me & abuse me for being weak towards that woman down the Shenton road. I would give a good deal, poor as I am, to see your dear old ugly face again before it gets grilled & hairy in India. I wonder how long it will be before I do – or if I ever shall – for I have an unlucky hole in my head where Hope should be. I had so much to do with you always, & we understand each other so easily, that I don't half like the thought of having so much water between us. Well, you won't forget me, nor I you, in a hurry.

            Anne sends you this song with her love, which you're a Goth & worse if you don't like, 'specially the words. Mr Hubbard desires to be remembered to you. Most people ask after you – Aunt Charlotte, the Copes &c. The Cadeby people go on much as usual. The old Bateses are pretty well. I do not like to think that we shall have no more to do with them – I mean comparatively, no more, and I do not like to think how I have done nothing during the 7 years Papa has had the Curacy. When I saw Lizzie James at work in her dreadful hole of a stable yard – with its damp bricks open to the sky & smoke, & she with a very bad cough, I could not help making most unpleasant comparisons, & thinking of Mrs Craine's so-called school – the only instruction those Cadeby children get. Lizzie is going to get up a Xmas tree & a dinner for her Italian boys. It grieves me to see how quickly she is killing herself, for I like her very much. I have been trying hard to teach her sanity, but all in vain.

            The Pearsons have left the neighbourhood I am sorry to say. They are gone to live at Bourton Rectory, not very far from Rugby. They spent a day here lately, & the two girls are staying, with Miss Hook, at Osbaston. They came here on Thursday, with Miss Bourne & we had a capital game at bouts rimés7 in the evening. Miss Stewart distinguished herself by the Bacchanalian character of her productions, to our intense amusement. I must quote one which tickled us especially: "You say that you're frisky, I say that I'm sad; But give me the Whisky, I'll be merry if mad!" Fancy that from Miss Stewart. Anne threatened to send them to Mr Palmer. Jane Pearson looked very handsome & Ditty very pleasant. Did I tell you that the Major some time ago took no end of trouble to try to get me some sculpting tools – but he knew nothing about them & it came to nothing – but it was very kind of him. Miss Hodge is going to leave them, as she is too young to be enough of a mistress – which Janie says she wants, & not a companion. She is very sorry to go, & they to lose her, & no wonder. Aunt Charlotte is very well for her. So I think are the rest of the world. Mr Edwards looks particularly blooming.

            And now I must say goodnight & goodbye to you my dear old Pumpy. I do believe you will make us all happy by going on as you ought – which is a commonplace observation, but means a great deal. Don't, pray don't go & fall in love foolishly & with your eyes shut, as you are by no means unlikely to do. And never neglect to take the Holy Communion, especially when you doubt if you are doing right, & so feel inclined to wait till your mind is in a fitter state for it – waiting to take your medicine till you are stronger.

            We all send our best love to you dearest Arthur – none more heartily than

                        Your much attached friend & cousin

                        Emma

 

 

1. Arthur had passed his examination and was shortly to leave for India without being able to visit Bosworth beforehand.

2. John Christian Schetky was an old friend of Emma's father, Dr Arthur Evans

3. Abbot's Hill

4. Emma's brother, Sebastian

5. Their cousin, Sebastian Dickinson, son of Gen Thomas Dickinson.

6. Sam and Tom Cope were former pupils at Market Bosworth School.

7. "rhymed ends" a game in which the players are given a list of words that rhyme, and they have to make a poem using the rhymes in the same order that they were placed upon the list.

 

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