Chapter I: Front Matter

Transcriber’s Note: Italic text is enclosed in _underscores_. Other notes will be found near the end of this eBook.

DEAD LETTERS

DEAD LETTERS

BY

MAURICE BARING

BOSTON AND NEW YORK
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
1910

The letters in this book are re-printed from the _Morning Post_, to the Proprietor and Editor of which newspaper the author owes his thanks for the permission to reproduce them here.

DEDICATION

_To Lord Lucas_

MY DEAR BRON,

I wish to begin this bundle of “Dead Letters,” collected from the Dead Letter Office of the World, with a living letter to you.

These letters are in no wise meant to be either historical documents or historical studies or aids to the understanding of history, or learning of any kind with or without tears. They are the fruits of imagination rather than of research. The word research is not even remotely applicable here, for in my case it means the hazy memories of a distant education indolently received, a few hurried references to Smith’s “Classical Dictionary,” a map of Rome which is in the London Library, and Bouillet’s “Biographie Universelle.” So that if you tell me that my account of the Carthaginian fleet is full of inaccuracies, or that the psychology of my Lesbia conflicts with the historical evidence, I shall be constrained to answer that I do not care. Yet amidst this chaff of fancy there are a few grains of historical truth. By historical truth I mean the recorded impressions (they may be false, of course, and the persons who recorded them may have been liars, in which case it is historical falsehood) of men on events which were contemporary with them. One of the letters is entirely composed of such grains. I will not tell you which one it is until some of our common friends, who are historical experts, have singled it out as being the one letter which oversteps all bounds of historical possibility and probability. (It is not the letter on Heine, part of the substance of which was taken from Memoirs and freely blended with fiction.) Such singling out has already occurred with regard to certain details of the letters as they appeared week by week in the “Morning Post.” But I confess that I have so far suffered more from the credulity than from the scepticism of my readers, and I was tempted at one moment rather to insert the impossible than to make the possible appear probable. For correspondents wrote to me, asking me to give them from my secret store further details with regard to Lady Macbeth’s housekeeping, Lord Bacon’s business affairs, and the table talk of the Emperor Claudius.

On the other hand, a sceptic asked to be supplied with the historical evidence for Guinevere’s extravagance in dress. I am conscious that in some of these letters I may have laid myself open to the charge of irreverence towards certain themes which are hallowed by romance and overshadowed by the wings of the great poets. I plead “Not guilty.” I am sure that you, of all people, will acquit me; for those (such as you) whose enjoyment of the great poets is vital and whose belief in the permanence of Romance is robust are seldom offended at a levity which they have no difficulty in recognizing to be the familiarity, not breeding contempt but begotten of awe, of the True Believer, nor have they any difficulty in distinguishing such laughter from the scoff of the Infidel.

To end on a less pompous note, let me add that if you like this book that is enough for me; and the blame of the rest of the world, although it will ultimately affect my purse--and a purse, as Shakespeare says, is trash--will disturb neither my peace of mind nor my digestion and will therefore not vex me.

On the other hand there is no amount of praise which a man and an author cannot endure with equanimity. Some authors can even stand flattery. I hope, therefore, to earn a certain measure both of your approval and others’; while theirs will be the more profitable, yours will be the more prized.

MAURICE BARING.

SOSNOFKA, TAMBOV, RUSSIA.
_October 19th, 1909._

“To most people of time past and present, at least history is a
pageant, no less and no more. It is a vast procession of human
lives, fascinating to us because of the likeness underlying all the
differences and because of the differences through which we see the
likeness.”

J. W. ALLEN (_The Place of History in Education_).

“Il n’y a pas de lettres ennuyeuses.”

_The Man in the Iron Mask._

CONTENTS

PAGE
FROM THE MYCENAE PAPERS 1

WITH THE CARTHAGINIAN FLEET, 216 B.C. 21

LESBIA ILLA 29

CLEOPATRA AT ROME 39

OVID’S BANISHMENT 50

THE CAPRAE REGATTA, A.D. 27 60

MESSALINA 68

NERO INTERVIEWED, ROME, A.D. 64 81

MARCUS AURELIUS AT LANUVIUM 91

THE CAMELOT JOUSTS 103

KING LEAR’S DAUGHTER 113

LADY MACBETH’S TROUBLE 121

AT THE COURT OF KING CLAUDIUS 130

ROMEO AND ROSALINE 138

A FIRST NIGHT 147

THE POET, THE PLAYER, AND THE LITERARY AGENT 156

BATH, 1663 168

PETER THE GREAT 176

“HAMLET” AND DR. DODD 188

HERR MÜLLER 197

HEINE IN PARIS 207

SMITH MAJOR 217

FROM SATURDAY TO MONDAY 224

A RUSSIAN SAILOR 236

DEAD LETTERS

FROM THE MYCENAE PAPERS

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

MYCENAE.

Honoured Sir,

I am sorry I was out when you came yesterday. I never thought that you seriously meant to come. I shall be very busy all next week, as Helen and Menelaus are arriving and I must get everything ready. Orestes was quite delighted with the cup and ball. You spoil him.

Yours sincerely,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

Most honoured Aegisthus,

One line to say that I have received your letter and _loved_ it all except the last sentence. Please do not say that kind of thing again as it will quite ruin our friendship, which I thought was going to be so _real_.

Yours very sincerely,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

Most honoured Aegisthus,

The flowers are beautiful, and it was kind of you to remember my birthday. But your letter is really too naughty....

(The rest of this letter is missing)

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

MYCENAE.

Most honoured Sir,

This is to say that since you persist in misunderstanding me and refuse to listen to what I say, our correspondence must end. It is extraordinary to me that you should wish to debase what might have been so great and so wonderful.

Yours truly,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

MYCENAE.

Most honoured Aegisthus,

I was much touched by your letter and I will give you the one more trial you ask for so humbly and so touchingly.

Paris has arrived. I don’t know if you know him. He is the second son of the King of Troy. He made an unfortunate marriage with a girl called Œnone, the daughter of a rather disreputable river-person. They were miserable about it. He is very good-looking--if one admires those kind of looks, which I don’t. He dresses in an absurd way and he looks theatrical. Besides, I hate men with curly hair. He has a few accomplishments. He shoots well and plays on the double flute quite remarkably well for a man who is not a professional; but he is totally uninteresting, and, what is more, impossible. But Helen likes him. Isn’t it extraordinary that she always has liked impossible men? They sit for hours together saying nothing at all. I don’t in the least mind his paying no attention to me--in fact, I am too thankful not to have to talk to him; but I do think it’s bad manners, as I am his hostess.

Helen is certainly looking better this year than she has ever looked; but she still dresses in that affectedly over-simple way, which is a pity. I don’t know how long he is going to stay. I don’t mind his being here, but Helen and he are really most inconsiderate. They use my sitting-room as though it were theirs, and they never seem to think that I may have things to do of my own, and they expect me to go out with them, which ends in their walking on ahead and my being left with Menelaus, whom I am very fond of indeed, but who bores me. He talks of nothing but horses and quoits. It is a great lesson to Queen Hecuba for having brought up her son so badly. Paris was educated entirely by a shepherd, you know, on Mount Ida. The result is his manners are shocking. Helen doesn’t see it. Isn’t it odd? I must say he’s nice with children, and Orestes likes him.

I am your sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

MYCENAE.

Most honoured Aegisthus,

We are in great trouble. I told you Helen was attracted by Paris. We of course thought nothing of it, because Helen always has flirted with rather vulgar men, and her flirtations were, we thought, the harmless distractions of a woman who has remained, and always will remain, a sentimental girl.

Imagine our surprise and dismay! Paris and Helen have run away together, and they have gone to Troy! Helen left a note behind for Menelaus saying she realized that she had made a mistake, that she hated hypocrisy, and thought it more honest to leave him. She said she would always think of him with affection. Poor Menelaus is distracted, but he is behaving beautifully.

Agamemnon is furious. He is overcome by the disgrace to his family, and he is so cross. We are all very miserable. Agamemnon says that the family honour must be redeemed at all costs, and that they will have to make an expedition against Troy to fetch Helen back. I think this is quite ridiculous. No amount of expeditions and wars can undo what has been done. I am sure you will sympathize with us in our trouble. I must say it is most unfair on my children. I shouldn’t have minded so much if Iphigenia wasn’t grown up.

Electra has got whooping-cough, but she is going on as well as can be expected. I have no patience with Helen. She always was utterly thoughtless.

Your sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

MYCENAE.

Most honoured Aegisthus,

There is no end of worry and fuss going on. Odysseus, the King of Ithaca, has arrived here with his wife, Penelope. They discuss the prospects of the expedition from morning till night, and I am left alone with Penelope. She has borrowed my only embroidery frame, and is working some slippers for her husband. They are at least two sizes too small. She talks of nothing but her boy, her dog, her dairy, and her garden, and I can’t tell you how weary I am of it. She made me very angry yesterday by saying that I spoilt Orestes, and that I should be sorry for it some day. She is always throwing up her boy Telemachus to me. Whenever Helen is mentioned she puts on a face as much as to say: “Do not defile me.”

Your sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

MYCENAE.

Most honoured Aegisthus,

My worst fears have been realized. They are going to make an expedition against Troy on a large scale. Odysseus is at the bottom of it. I cannot say how much I dislike him. All the Kings have volunteered to go, but the Fleet will not be ready for two years, so I am in hopes that something may happen in the meantime to prevent it.

Iphigenia is learning to make bandages, and says she will go to the front to look after the wounded. I am, of course, against this, and think it’s absurd, but unfortunately she can make her father do what she likes. My only consolation is that the war cannot possibly last more than a week. The Trojans have no regular army. They are a handful of untrained farmers, and the town cannot stand a siege. It is all too silly. It is too bad of Helen to have caused all this fuss.

Your sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_P.S._--No, of course I haven’t written to Helen. She is as good as dead to me.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

(_Two years later_)

MYCENAE.

My dear Aegisthus,

We have at last got some news. The Fleet has arrived at Aulis, and they are waiting for a favourable wind to be able to go on. At present they are becalmed. They are all well. Iphigenia writes that she is enjoying herself immensely. She has the decency to add that she misses me. I have not had a good night’s rest since they have started.

Your most sincere friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

My dear friend,

Please come here at once. I am in dreadful trouble. From the last letter I received from Agamemnon I understood there was something wrong and that he was hiding something. To-day I got a letter from Calchas, breaking to me in the most brutal manner an appalling tragedy and a savage, horrible, and impious crime! They have sacrificed my darling Iphigenia--to Artemis, of all goddesses! to get a propitious wind for their horrible Fleet! I am heartbroken. I cannot write another word. Please come directly.

Your friend,
CLYTAEMNESTRA.

_Clytaemnestra to Aegisthus_

(_Two months later_)

I see no reason why you should not come back; I have a right to ask whom I like to stay here. Do come as soon as possible; I am very lonely without you. Now that I no longer communicate with Agamemnon in order to get news I have written to Helen and sent the letter by a very clever silk merchant, who is certain to be able to worm his way into Troy. Come as soon as you get this.