Chapter LVII: WOODBRIDGE: May 22, 1879

MY DEAR MRS. KEMBLE,

I must thank you for your letter; I was, beforehand, much of your Opinion; and, unless I hear very different advice from the two others whom I have consulted--Spedding, the All-wise--(I mean that), and Aldis Wright, experienced in the Booksellers' world, I shall very gladly abide by your counsel--and my own. You (I do believe) and a few friends who already know Crabbe, will not be the worse for this 'Handybook' of one of his most diffuse, but (to me) most agreeable, Books. That name (Handybook), indeed, I had rather thought of calling the Book, rather than 'Readings'--which suggests readings aloud, whether private or public--neither of which I intended--simply, Readings to oneself. I, who am a poor reader in any way, have found it all but impossible to read Crabbe to anybody. So much for that--except that, the Portrait I had prepared by way of frontispiece turns out to be an utter failure, and that is another satisfactory reason for not publishing. For I particularly wanted this Portrait, copied from a Picture by Pickersgill which was painted in 1817, when these Tales were a-writing, to correct the Phillips Portrait done in the same year, and showing Crabbe with his company Look--not insincere at all--but not at all representing the _writer_. When Tennyson saw Laurence's Copy of this Pickersgill--here, at my house here--he said--'There I recognise the Man.'

If you were not the truly sincere woman you are, I should have thought that you threw in those good words about my other little Works by way of salve for your _dictum_ on this Crabbe. But I know it is not so. I cannot think what 'rebuke' I gave you to 'smart under' as you say. {151a}

If you have never read Charles Tennyson (Turner's) Sonnets, I should like to send them to you to read. They are not to be got now: and I have entreated Spedding to republish them with Macmillan, with such a preface of his own--congenial Critic and Poet--as would discover these Violets now modestly hidden under the rank Vegetation of Browning, Swinburne, and Co. Some of these Sonnets have a Shakespeare fancy in them:--some rather puerile--but the greater part of them, pure, delicate, beautiful, and quite original. {151b} I told Mr. Norton (America) to get them published over the water if no one will do so here.

Little did I think that I should ever come to relish--old Sam Rogers! But on taking him up the other day (with Stothard's Designs, to be sure!) I found a sort of Repose from the hatchet-work School, of which I read in the Athenaeum.

I like, you know, a good Murder; but in its place--

'The charge is prepared; the Lawyers are met--
The Judges all ranged, a terrible Show' {152}--

only the other night I could not help reverting to that sublime--yes!--of Thurtell, sending for his accomplice Hunt, who had saved himself by denouncing Thurtell--sending for him to pass the night before Execution with perfect Forgiveness--Handshaking--and 'God bless you--God bless you--you couldn't help it--I hope you'll live to be a good man.'

You accept--and answer--my Letters very kindly: but this--pray do think--is an answer--verily by return of Post--to yours.

Here is Summer! The leaves suddenly shaken out like flags. I am preparing for Nieces, and perhaps for my Sister Andalusia--who used to visit my Brother yearly.

Your sincere Ancient E. F.G.