Letter from Emma Evans to her cousin Arthur Phelps.
Transcribed from a scan of the original in April 2015 by Penelope
Forrest, born Phelps, great granddaughter of Arthur.
Osbaston Hall.
May 31st [1855]
Dearest Arthur,
Guess if I am happy here, with these dearest of
all dear people, in this prettiest & happiest of all dear old places. Here I
have been for the last fortnight & hope to stay another, enjoying myself
thoroughly – far more than I had thought I should in coming back to the old
parts now no longer Home. But it is a happy past to look back at & I have a sort
of mountain-top feeling now, of having a beautiful sunlit expanse before me,
whether I look backwards or forwards – a very new one to me who have been
groping my way uphill hitherto, with no view beyond the rock to be climbed
tomorrow. But I beg your pardon for writing rubbish, only it is a very real
feeling, & a very happy one.
Thanks many, dear old Pump, for your letter.
The two parts did indeed amuse me. I had no intention though, thank you, of
going in for anything in the Hypatia style, knowing it would prove a signal
failure. No – I must be myself, if I can, but I declare I find it harder than it
would be to be most of my friends by turns. I often think that actresses have a
better chance of being simple & natural than any others – for they have a fair &
legitimate channel for that dramatic tendency that is the bane of so many
characters, yours among others.
Well, I suppose you would prefer facts to
reflections if I would give you your choice. I found all here pretty well.
Nellie is immensely grown in breadth as well as length & looks just as well as
ever, but very funny, with hair not an inch long. Mary is quite well &
"firstrater" than ever – so true & simple & right thinking. Madlle is
very popular here, I need not say. Why have not you written to her, little lazy
brute that you are?
As to climate were you any better in England?
So you are off to Poonah. I wonder how you will like the work. I should not
wonder if it & the change did you much good. I don't like to think of you not
being well out there, with no one to scold & take care of you.
As to Tigger, I wish she had been shot. I
would, I really believe, rather have given her prussic acid myself than that she
should have met the end she did. Mamma, Anne & I were going to leave A. Hill
together, but when the children took the measles, it was decided to leave me
behind. At the King's Langley Station, it rained & was very cold, so Mamma made
Anne & Mary come inside the shed, & Tigger was left outside with the luggage in
a slightly fastened great basket & when it was lifted into the carriage it was
found empty. I don't think that would have happened if I had been there. The
thought of the poor old thing, after her 17 years of spoiling, dying of fright
or starvation, or some chance dog or boy, is not a cheerful one. Of course
enquiries were made but nothing was heard of her. If she had been lost near
Bosworth, she might have found her way, but besides her knowing nothing of the
country about there, Jack's house did not feel enough Home for her to care to
get back there. You may laugh, but the part that somehow touches me the most is
the way in which I know the old fool congratulated herself at first on being so
clever as to slip out when no one was looking. Well, there is enough about that.
I suppose the loss of an old cat is a mere trifle – but it one of the things one
feels much more sharply than great sorrows which always have great
counterbalancings.
By the bye, I don't understand your
coincidences. As for burning my Ludwig Tieck1 I should be more likely
to have him bound in purple & gold. Constantly the sight of the old Bosworth
things at Kensington brings unconsciously into my mind the thought of the bird
that Bertha carries away with her from the old woman's & that will sing the old
song with the sad change in the words, till she is obliged to strangle it – &
sometimes now the dim far-off way in which things appear to me recalls the
faintly heard cock crow & sound of wheels in the magic garden where Emilies
stays for a time more clearly than I like.
Friday. And I have not seen John since Tuesday.
Till the last two days he has spent several hours here every day but I have had
a note from him this morning, written at Kirkby Rectory, where he had to go
yesterday afternoon, just as he was preparing to come here through the rain, to
see the old Rector, Mr Gamlen, who seems to be dying, from his
account. I hope he will be here today. It makes such a difference, & it rained
incessantly yesterday, so that we did not go out even. I have not been to look
at Bailestone Church yet, but it is almost finished I believe, & is to be opened
I think early in August.
Mr
Homer is very well but rather in a state of mind about his schools. Mr
Fagan, the new Head Master seems a restless domineering man, & he is now anxious
to have all the Schools in the parishes round, that were built with the School
funds under his own management. I do wish he were a different man. It made my
heart ache to call on Mr Edwards & see how ill & worn he looked &
hear him speak of the present system. The school hours are changed & now the
boys are in from 9.15 to 1 without intermission & the Masters have to teach by
lectures. How the system can possibly work I don't see. The boys have to bring
up a written abstract of the lectures but how Mr Edwards is to
prepare & deliver his lectures, have the writing & arithmetic classes &c, &
correct these 40 or 50 lectures, (which it would take much more time to do so as
to be of real use to the boys than common exercises) in the course of 24 hours,
I don't see. He sent in his resignation some weeks ago & is doubtful whether he
will be able even to go on with his work till Midsummer. They mean to get a 4th
Master if they can to take most of Mr Edwards's work, & there is a
proposal which I hope very sincerely may be carried out to let him keep his
house, as a retiring pension – & what pleases me very much about this proposal
is that it comes from Mr Small. If it is acted on he will be able to
carry on his banking business but if not he will have to leave Bosworth entirely
as you know there are no houses there. Poor Mr Smythe is suffering
very much from overwork & worry. I don't think Mr Fagan means to be
so disagreeable but he must be a very hard man to work under – suspicious,
fault-finding & peremptory. He does not care either about finding fault with the
masters before their pupils. He may improve for he is very young, but it is sad
to see. And I am sorry for the Governors, Sir Alex & Mr Cope, who
tried so very carefully & conscientiously to pick out the best man. The Squire
does not talk much about it of course, but I can see how vexed he is.
Tom & Sam are going on as well as ever at
Rugby. The report came the other day with each at the head of his class – & a
little observation of Mr Bloxam's at the bottom: "Good boys – going
on well." They came here the day I came & got into my railway carriage at Rugby
& were so pleasant & friendly. They only came for one day but they got a weeks
enjoyment into it I think. Tom got up at 4.30 the next morning to go fishing, &
it was the rook-shooting day & Tom is said to have been the best shot present.
The Pearsons left Barwell, not Hinckley, some
time ago & are settled at Bourton, near Rugby. They were up in town when I came
here, & I had seen them & am engaged to spend a few days with them on my way
back to Kensington. Col P tells me that Janey P will be a short woman with big
feet which I am sorry for. With that face she should be tall but they say she
has left off growing almost & Mary Ditty is I believe the taller of the two now.
How I wish you could see our Kensington house.
It really is not a disagreeable one. The dining room & drawing room which is
above it, look out into the Square & the there is a little breakfast room &
Bassy's room. The library looks out with a glass door into our little garden, &
is quieter than Bosworth. They feel like very pleasant cheerful lodgings. My
sleeping room is up in the attics so I have a tiny room to myself for my "Books
& work & healthy play" in the story below, & I often think, as I sit there, how
I should like to have your dear old ugly face to talk to there. I have your
fists of course. I am very glad you are not going to the Crimea for my own part.
I have a good many acquaintances I would rather have shot than my dear old
Stumps. I wonder when or whether we shall see each other again.
Of course our future is a subject of great &
frequent discussion between us – & the more we think & talk, the more probable
it seems, at least to me, that dear old Bosworth will be the result of our
discussions. His ambition to take high professional honours is on the other
side, & of course there are other objections to staying here. But if he decides
to go, it must be four years & it may be twice that number or
more, before he again is rich enough to afford such a luxury as a wife. So I
think that argument will carry the day against all the others. For myself, I
have never been able to appreciate the arguments against Bosworth – but took the
force of them on trust from Mamma & John. He can't stand the notion of my having
to be civil to his patients – says it would 'grind him to the earth' to see me
shaking hands with farmers' wives &c, but I feel sure he is quite mistaken in
his idea that he could choose with whom I should associate in a new place – & I
prefer farmers to shopkeepers – & people of whom I do know something to utter
strangers. Last Sunday I stayed at their house till the afternoon service, which
from a paucity of curates, was postponed till 6.30, & tried to fancy it my Home.
Will it not be strange if it is settled so
after all? & you have to come & see me in the old place when you return to
England with a moustache & a regular Indian tiger face. Don't become more Indian
than you can help old boy; it won't be becoming to your style of beauty. Why
don't you send me a photograph of yourself as I am always asking you? I will get
one done of myself & send you in return if you will – & as to paying letters, I
say as I have said before, if you leave your's unpaid, so will I, but if you
insist on paying your's, why I shall continue to pay mine – & you will perhaps
lose some of the precious documents in consequence.
The subscription for the memorial window still
goes on, but it is not yet settled which window it is to be. Perhaps as it is a
general subsn, it should be one in the body of the Church & not in
the chancel, & the Copes think, & so do I, that the one before them, the E
window of the S aisle would be a very fitting one. Mr Small I believe
thinks of the E window of the chancel. but it would be much better to do a
smaller one really well.
The Copes are anxious about Mr Hubbard's
decision about going or staying of course, for they have great confidence in him
as a doctor – & besides really like & respect him – & they would like me for a
neighbour better than a stranger too. I like his Mother very much. There is a
great deal of the simplicity & unselfishness & strength of John's character in
her.
Mrs
Mules2 is on her way to England with her boy & husband, who is coming
on sick leave, I am sorry to say. I had a note from her, written from Rouen, the
other day. She asks me about Staffy, as usual, of whom we have heard nothing of
course. I wonder what will become of him.
Bassy is now living at Kensington & seems to
like it pretty well. I wish he were looking better. I don't believe India would
suit him & that making fortune there to spend here is I believe one of the
abuses they fight against. Sib is not a conceited boy but a very good fellow in
his way, which I am quite content to believe, just as I believe that fresh figs
– of which he & Eliza always remind me – are very good food, for those that like
them. I like Willy D. I have not seen much of him, but he seems little changed
since the old nursery days when George, hot & impetuous, used to fight him, &
Willy would not take his own part, till Nurse used to come up with, 'I'll tell
you vat, Master Willy, if you don't box his ears, I'll box your's!'
Elizabeth Goldney is expected here today. I
rather like her, but I would almost rather have her stay at Brixton. The two
Miss Thackerays drank tea with us two days before I came here. They are nice
girls & I am very sorry for them. Their Mother, you may have heard, is mad. The
youngest, about 15, I like especially. She is just in the misanthropic stage of
development – & is taking to anatomy in consequence, I think –& has borrowed my
skeletons.
Kingsley has been writing another book, 'Glaucus, or the Wonders of the Shore'
which I don't suppose is
on Natural History only, but I have not yet seen it. I heard from Lizzie James 2
days ago. She is far from well & suffers dreadfully from headaches. She & I have
seen very little of each other lately, I am sorry to say. Mr Cope is
reading Phaeton, & likes it very much, but that of course.
Miss Hooke is very well, & seems more cheerful
now that she is more accustomed to the thought of being quite blind, but I have
not seen much of her I am sorry to say. The days pass so cruelly fast here, &
they had been going so slowly before. I dare say Bassy will contrive to spend a
few days here before Elizabeth goes. If John does not come, I shall perhaps set
off for Bosworth this afternoon as I have a good many more calls I shall be glad
to pay there among the poor people. It was very pleasant to see how glad some of
them were to see me.
Miss Cope is pretty well. Mrs
Greenway is not much better. I mean John to walk over there some day soon, to
pacify her, as she says he told her some naughty fibs about our engagement,
which he denies, but she has not forgiven him yet.
I was rather amused two days ago. Mrs
Cope & I determined to write down definitely, as far as we could, the arguments
for & against our settling in Bosworth. So we each took our pencil & paper, & Mrs
Cope wrote a 'Pro' on her paper, & I a 'Contra' on mine – & after a good deal of
talking & some writing by each of us, I made the discovery that she was writing
the arguments for our staying & I, those against our going.
A regular case of 'Heads, I win – tails, you lose,' wasn't it?
Anne is pretty well much as usual. She is now
living at Kensington with us. Aunt Fanny was very sorry to lose her. The
Bramblebury freehold was to be sold last Tuesday. I have heard nothing about the
sale. It is sad to think of the old place perhaps portioned off on building
leases for cockney villas.
We are going to have a new Curate at Bosworth,
& a new one, a Mr Jenkins, is come or coming to take Sutton &
Shenton, as Dudley Somerville is off to the Crimea. Is not that an astonishing
notion? His parishioners gave him a silver coffee pot before he went.
Mrs
Cope tells me to give her love to you. In weighing the pros & cons of this, to
us, serious question, the fact of being so near to such friends as these goes a
long way with me.
Goodbye dear old Pompey. Take care of yourself
& write me good long letters & tell me all you can about yourself & always
believe me your loving sister
Emma
1. A German poet, one of the founding fathers of the Romantic Movement.
2. The sister of 'Staffy' Haines