TO MR. BLACKWOOD.
WINDSOR,
4th January.
...Just before your letter came I had been reading an old letter of my dear mother’s written in 1852, recounting with great delight and pride your complimentary letters to me about ‘Katie Stewart,’ and blowing her own little trumpet, dear soul, over her “little Maggie”! It was sent back to me by a relation by the same post which brought yours. And this reminds me to thank you very much indeed for what you say about ‘Whiteladies.’ I thought the book was not bad, but as no critic except the singularly stupid one who “does for” the ‘Times’ has even noticed it, I had begun to feel that I must be mistaken. Dreadful penalty of too much writing, but I am glad indeed that you approve of it.
To her Nephew, Mr. Frank Wilson.
Windsor,
13th January.
...Tids has come back from Oxford since I wrote you last, and I think in my last letter to you I talked to you of the anxiety I could not help feeling about his first start in independent life. Thank God, in everything he seems to have acted so as to put my fears all to flight and to give me confidence for the future, and has come home not only quite unchanged but even more completely Tids than he was before — as fresh, as boyish, and as good as a boy can be. I can’t tell you how thankful and how happy I am in this. I was very much frightened for the ordeal, and he seems to have come through it scatheless. He has not succeeded about the exhibition, but that is a very much lesser matter. There is some talk at present about standing for the Cowper Scholarship, but this is not yet decided — you shall hear about it after.
To Mr. Blackwood.
Windsor,
10th February.
...I met Mr. William Blackwood at Colonel Chesney’s last night, and hope to see him here to-day. I had heard of Mr. Oliphant’s arrival. He came over from New York in the same ship with my friend Mrs. M.’s son. Has he fallen into telegraphy16 and prosperity, and abandoned the wilder side of life and opinion? I should like to see him. I am glad to tell you that Miss Thackeray liked the little paper on her father. I had a note from her about it.
I am glad to hear so good an account of you all in health and welfare. Your nephew tells me you are seriously thinking of Italy in the spring. Lucky people!
To Mr. Frank Wilson.
Windsor,
1st March.
...There is not much news to give you. I am better (I think I grumbled last week), and working through the mountain of work under which, however, I still groan. Did I tell you that I have brought a hornet’s nest about my ears by describing the Military Knights in my new story? I think cousin Annie has sent off the first number to you (the ‘Cornhill’), and we will keep it up as long as the story goes on. I am very sorry to have vexed the old men, though of course I had not the least intention of doing so, and did not expect the sketch to be so readily recognised. You will see I have kept the Castle out altogether, which I thought would mystify the people. However, I have been too close....Everybody is still in great doubt and suspense about the war, afraid one morning that we may be drawn into it, and reassured the next, only to be plunged back again. Do you ever come in contact with the Mussulman population, and what do you think of them? There is a novel not very long published by a Mr. Allardyce called the ‘City of Sunshine,’ entirely about Indian (not Anglo-Indian) life, which gives a very fine picture of an old Mohammedan officer in the old sepoy army. It is a very clever book. I don’t know if it would interest you, who have the real thing under your eyes, as much as it interests us, or I would put it into the next box that is sent.
Windsor,
24th March.
…We have had the most villainous winter, which is dying hard, and yielding most unwillingly to such a burst of sunshine as we are rejoicing in now. Tids, who came home on Wednesday night, is sitting on the steps of the greenhouse working at Homer and Philology (he says), and even across my desk while I write there is a glimmer — nay, a blaze — of sun. And the greenhouse is full of hyacinths mixed (alas!) with a little tobacco! Don’t you see it all? I wish I could have a photograph or a picture or something to give an idea of your surroundings, your tent and your canal and your dusky people: I wish it could be done, but I suppose you will very soon be going to the hills now, or at least when you get this letter.
The events since I wrote to you last have been the visits of cousin Annie and Mr. Ralston....Mr. Ralston has developed into quite a new man. He startled me from the first by his jocosity and a new strain of self-importance. But the “lecture” (!) so-called, which he had come on purpose to give to the Eton boys (I think I told you), it was a string of most amusing but very absurd stories, as funny as you can imagine, and keeping the audience in fits of laughter, told with the broadest yet the deepest comicality, but as little like a dignified lecturer as you can imagine. Dr. Balston was in the chair, and he, I understand, was considerably shocked, and declared that he had never been at a literary society meeting before, and that he would not have known that the entertainment had anything to do with literature had he not been told. “Who is your low comedian?” somebody asked Mr. Hale. So you see our friend produced a sensation. The ‘Chronicle,’ however, is most complimentary to him, and promises him an enthusiastic reception when he comes again, and he himself was delighted with the cheers and laughter. He sat up talking till past three in the morning, and gave me a whole history of his feud with the Museum. I am trying now to get Anthony Trollope to come down to lecture.
To Mr. Blackwood.
Windsor,
11th April.
I have begun Macaulay, and you shall have him in the end of the week, if possible. I think the fact of the very foolish, bitter, and useless remarks about ‘Maga’ and Professor Wilson makes it highly expedient that the book should be reviewed in a loftier and more generous spirit, with one very distinct and dignified notice of the equal injustice and bad taste of this reference, which I shall try to make as pointed as possible. The book is interesting and curious as one of those studies of mankind which are said to be the best employment of man (or woman?). How rich and how poor a life!
In great haste (but I thought you would like to know whether or not I was at work).
Windsor,
15th April.
I am sorry to send this [review of Macaulay’s Life] incomplete, but you shall have the last little bit on Tuesday morning if all is well....I hope we shall not come to blows over it, though it is ticklish ground. I think, however, that the Magazine can be nothing if not magnanimous in treating such a man, and I do not mind if you throw in a bit of Toryism on your own account, though I think I am gloriously Tory here and there. Whatever we can agree upon, however, will come in the proof. Poor Macaulay, his household loss and disappointments touch me much.
Windsor,
20th April.
…I have not seen the ‘Edinburgh,’ but will get hold of it as soon as possible. How very good of Mr. Kinglake to interest himself about the poor little reputation which, alas! “thae muving things ca’ed weans” have forced me to be so careless of. Will you tell him how very much more I feel gratified and honoured by such kind interest, as coming from him, a critic whose personal approval is better than vulgar praise? But no praise will do for me what was done for Thackeray, and reason good. I think, though, if ever the time comes that I can lie on my oars, after the boys are out in the world, or when the time comes which there is no doubt about, when I shall be out of the world, that I will get a little credit — but not much now, there is so much of me! What a blessing to be born with Macaulay’s temperament and never spend more than one has! It is the best nurse of reputation. But please say to Mr. Kinglake all my gratitude for such true friendliness, which I feel to the bottom of my heart.
To Mr. F. Wilson.
Windsor,
5th May.
...The systematic way in which Mr. Trollope grinds out his work is very funny. It must have answered, however, for he seems extremely comfortable; keeps a homely brougham, rides in the Park, &c. I envy and admire, and wonder if daily bread is all I shall ever be able to manage, and whether I shall have to go on in the same treadmill all my life, — I suppose so.
My new story begins in the ‘Cornhill’ next month. I saw Miss Thackeray and Leslie Stephen for a few minutes the other day — she looking very much herself, he looking very miserable. I asked them to come here, while their things are removed from one house to another....
God bless you, my dear boy. Good-bye for a week. I hope you are not suffering from the hot weather.
To Mr. Blackwood.
Windsor,
7th June.
...I was charmed with Mr. Kinglake, and extremely glad to make his acquaintance. By the way, I congratulate you on your new contributor. Of course you will tell fibs about him, and declare the ‘Woman-Hater’17 to be by nobody in particular. There is no one I admire so much. There is a swing of easy power about him which is beyond praise.
This and several of the following letters refer to the Foreign Classics Series, which Mrs. Oliphant edited.
Golf Place, St. Andrews,
20th September.
Thanks for letting me see the letter to Mr. Reeve. I perfectly agree with what you say: he is not a man to be affronted, but neither is his aid of any special importance. I think, however, that he might make a sufficiently interesting volume.
Mr. Collins’s list is very like mine — indeed, of course every list of the kind must be like every other. Do you incline to let him try his hand at Camoens? People who are learned in Portuguese are not common. I have been arranging what seemed to me a very feasible succession to begin with, if we can keep our men to time. I have bound over the Principal to be ready if called upon with Pascal. Have you mentioned Rabelais to Colonel Hamley? Shall I write to him about it? You will see that I have put myself down for a couple of volumes in the first year. This is simply because I can be sure of my own punctuality, and of course the arrangement is merely as a convenience to settle some order of starting. I shall set to work to get my German brushed up when I get home. It is not good for much at present. If Mr. Lewes will do Goethe that will be admirable, and we should secure it as soon as we can. The series should be made as interesting and important as possible at the beginning. Shall I draw out a prospectus?
By the way, I know Mr. Reeve tolerably well, and have written two or three papers for him, though I almost forget what they were about.
Windsor,
4th November.
I enclose you a small story of a ghostly description, which pray put in the Magazine if it happens to suit you; but if not, send it back to me, as I should like to have it published for Christmas. It was called forth by a discussion of the Glamis Castle mystery which I was a party to the other night, and is intended for a possible solution of that. I cannot remember whether there is a Lord Gowrie; if there is, of course the name must be changed. I should be pleased if you liked it.
Colonel Hamley will not reply to me about Voltaire. In case he does not do it, as Rabelais seems for the moment out of the question, have you any more French-reading authors in your pocket to supply this volume, as I don’t know whether you care for my independent researches? Mr. Sime, the “literary editor” of the ‘Globe,’ a connection of my own whom I mentioned to you, I think, wishes to do Lessing; and as he writes well, judging from several interesting articles of his I have seen in the ‘Pall Mall’ and other papers, I am disposed to accept: but that of course would not come in the first year. Have you heard from Mr. Martin?
I am amused at the novel crusade Mr. Reade has beguiled you into. I heartily agree with him, but I should not have thought you would do so.
The story mentioned above is called “The Secret Chamber.” Whatever it did afterwards, it certainly had a success when it was read, as Mrs. Oliphant’s stories occasionally were, in the family circle. The reading had been begun rather late, and midnight passed as the climax was approaching. The reader, her nerves all excited and tense, came to the place where the old sword in the haunted room suddenly fell with a crash. At that very moment outside the closed door of the drawing-room something fell! — something that crashed and shivered! Every one started up, the door was flung open, but the long passage outside was dark and silent. The servants had gone to bed, and the lights were out. There was nothing to be seen, nothing to be heard. What had fallen? Was it an echo of the ghostly sword as it fell that we had heard? Half an hour later the mystery was cleared. The reader of the story, going cautiously in the dark towards bed, trod on the broken glass of a fallen picture.
Windsor,
28th November.
When I heard from you that Mr. Martin would not undertake Goethe, I asked Mr. Kinglake, with whom I have been having some correspondence lately, whether he thought Mr. Hayward would undertake it. He thought not, but said he would speak to him about it, without committing us in the least. Then he wrote to me that he thought Mr. Hayward seemed disposed for it, and asked all the details as to time of publication, remuneration, &c., and last night I got the enclosed letter from him, which I think it best to submit to you as it stands. Of course I say nothing about the money. I am rather aspiring myself to make the series an amateur one (in the right sense of the word) — books done for the love of the subject. Mr. Hayward is a very big “swell,” and I confess I should be proud of him....
Mr. Kinglake’s hint about writing to Mr. Hayward in very appreciative terms is amusing. If you don’t know him personally (as, however, I have no doubt you do), perhaps it would be better that I should do this. The necessary admiration and enthusiasm might come easier to me than to you!
N.B. — I am not at all sure that I ever read a word of his writings.
Windsor,
8th December.
I send you to-day a copy of my book, the ‘Makers of Florence’: you will see a good deal about Dante in it; and pray look at the translation in a footnote beginning on page 7, which is a specimen of the translations I am doing. The book is too pretty (I don’t mean my part of it) for business purposes, so I hope Mrs. Blackwood will accept it. I have put her name in it.
Windsor,
26th December.
I respond with the most hearty goodwill to your good wishes. I trust Mrs. Blackwood and you will find the years more and more happy as the life of the young generation develops and is enriched: after all, it is upon them that all our hopes depend as we get past the time of personal hope...My boys are very well and all that I could wish them, though Cyril disappointed me and himself (horribly) by getting only a second class in Mods. We felt terribly cast down for a while, but the Master of Balliol cheered me up again, which was a wonder, as he is not too genial generally on the subject.