 Letter XXXIII of Letters from England, 1846-1849, by Elizabeth Davis-Bancroft, read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to IPD, oddly end, October 14, 1847 Dear Uncle, we are staying for a few days at Lord Baybrook's place, one of the most magnificent in England, but before I say a word about it I must tell you of A's safe arrival and how happy I have been made by having him with me again. On Saturday the 9th we had the honour of dining with the Lord Mayor to meet the Duke of Cambridge, a fete so unlike anything else unaccompanied by so many old and peculiar customs that I must describe it to you at full length. The mansion-house is in the heart of the city, and is very magnificent and spacious. The Egyptian Hall, as the dining-room is called, being one of the noblest departments I have seen. The guests were about two hundred and fifty in number, and were received by the Lady Mayoress sitting. When dinner was announced the Lord Mayor went out first, preceded by the sword-bearer and mace-bearer and all the insignia of office. Then came the Duke of Cambridge and the Lady Mayoress, then Mr. Bancroft and I together, which is the custom at these great civic feasts. We marched through the long gallery by the music of the band to the Egyptian Hall, where two raised seats like thrones were provided for the Lord Mayor and Mayoress at the head of the hall. On the right hand of the Lord Mayor set the Duke of Cambridge on a common chair, for royalty yields entirely to the Mayor on his own ground. On the right of the Duke of Cambridge sat the Mayoress-elect, for the present dignitaries go out of office on the first of November. On the left hand of the present Lady Mayoress set the Lord Mayor-elect, then I came with my husband on my left hand in very conjugal style. There were three tables the whole length of the hall, and that at which we were placed went across the head. When we were placed the herald stands behind the Lord Mayor and cries, My Lords, ladies and gentlemen, pray silence for grace. Then the chaplain in his gown goes behind the Lord Mayor and says grace. After the second course two large gold cups, nearly two feet high, are placed before the Mayor and Mayoress. The herald then cries, with a loud voice, His Royal Highness the Duke of Cambridge, the American Minister, the Lord Chief Baron, etc., etc., enumerating about a dozen of the most distinguished guests, and, ladies and gentlemen all, the Lord Mayor and Mayoress do bid you most heartily welcome and invite you to drink in a loving cup. Whereupon the Mayor and Mayoress rise and each turn to their next neighbor who take off the cover while they drink. After my right hand neighbor, the Lord Mayor-elect, put one on the cover, he turns to me and says, Please take off the cover, which I do, and hold it while he drinks. Then I replace the cover and turn round to Mr. Bancroft, who rises and performs the same office for me while I drink. Then he turns to his next neighbor, who takes off the cover for him. I have not felt so solemn since I stood up to be married, as when Mr. Bancroft and I were standing up alone together, the rest of the company looking on, I, with this great heavy gold cup in my hand, so heavy that I could scarcely lift it to my mouth with both hands, and he with the cover before me, with rather a mischievous expression in his face. Then came two immense gold platters filled with rose water, which were also passed round. These gold vessels were only used by the persons at the head table, the other guests were served with silver cups. When the dessert and the wine are placed on the table, the Herald says, My lords, ladies and gentlemen, please to charge your glasses. After we duly charge our glasses, the Herald cries, lords, ladies and gentlemen, pray silence for the Lord Mayor. He then rises and proposes the first toast, which is, of course, always the queen. After a time came the American minister, who was obliged to rise up at my elbow and respond. We got home just after twelve. And now let me try to give you some faint idea of oddly end, which is by far the most magnificent house I have yet seen. It was built by the Earl of Suffolk, son of the Duke of Norfolk, who was beheaded in Elizabeth's reign for high treason upon the side of an Abbey, the lands of which had been granted by the crown to that powerful family. One of the earls of Suffolk dying without sons, the earldom passed into another branch, and the barony and a state of Howard de Walden came into the female line. In course of time a Lord Howard de Walden dying without a son, his title also passed into another family, but his estate went to his nephew, Lord Baybrook, the father of the present Lord. Lady Baybrook is the daughter of the Marquis of Cornwallis, and granddaughter of our American Lord Cornwallis. The house is of the Elizabethan period, and is one of the best preserved specimens of that style, but of its vast extent and magnificence I can give you no idea. We arrived about five o'clock, and were ushered through an immense hall of carved oak, hung with banners up a fine staircase to the Grand Saloon, where we were received by the host and hostess. Now, of this Grand Saloon I must try to give you a conception. It was, I should think, from seventy-five to one hundred feet in length. The ceiling overhead was very rich with hanging corbels, like stalactites, and the entire walls were paneled with a full length family portrait in each panel, which was arched at the top, so that the whole wall was composed of these round top pictures with rich gilding between. Notwithstanding its vast size, the sofas and tables were so disposed all over the apartment as to give it the most friendly, warm, and social aspect. Lady Baybrook herself ushered me to my apartments, which were the state rooms. First came Mr. Bancroft's dressing table, where was a blazing fire. Then came the bedroom, with the state bed of blue and gold, covered with embroidery, and with the arms and cornet of Howard DeWalden. The walls were hung with crimson and white damask, and the sofas and chairs also, and it was surrounded by pictures, among others a full length of Queen Charlotte, just opposite the foot of the bed, which always saluted me every morning when I awoke, with her fan, her hoop, and her deep ruffles. My dressing room, which was on the opposite side from Mr. Bancroft's, was a perfect gem. It was painted by the famous Rebecca, who came over from Italy to ornament so many of the great English houses at one time. The whole ceiling and walls were covered with beautiful designs and with gilding, and a beautiful recess for a couch was supported by fluted gilded columns. The architraves and moldings of the doors were gild, and the panels of the doors were filled with Rebecca's beautiful designs. The chairs were of light blue embroidered with thick heavy gold, and all this bearing the stamp of antiquity was a thousand times more interesting than mere modern splendor. In the center of the room was a toilette of white muslin, universal here, and on it a gilt dressing table, which gave pretty effect to the whole. I sat at dinner between Lord Beybrook and Sir John Boileau and found them both very agreeable. The dining room is as magnificent as the other apartments. The ceiling is in the Elizabethan style, covered with figures, and the walls white and gold paneling hung with full-length family portraits not set into the wall like the saloon, but in frames. In the evening the young people had a round game at cards, and the elder ones seemed to prefer talking to a game of wist. The ladies brought down their embroidery or netting. At eleven a tray with wine and water is brought in and a quantity of bed candle sits, and everybody retires when they like. The next morning the guests assembled at half-past nine in the great gallery, which leads to the chapel to go in together to prayers. The chapel is really a beautiful little piece of architecture, with a vaulted roof and windows of painted glass. On one side is the original cast of the large monument to Lord Cornwallis, our lord, which is in Westminster Abbey. After breakfast we passed a couple of hours and going all over the house, which is in perfect keeping in every part. We returned to the library, a room as splendid as the saloon, only instead of pictured panels it was surrounded by books and beautiful gilt bindings. In the immense bay window was a large Louis Cator's table, and which the ladies all placed themselves at their embroidery, though I preferred looking over curious illuminated missiles, etc., etc. The next day was the meeting of the county agricultural society. At the hour appointed we all were paired to the ground where the prizes were to be given out. Lord Baybrook made first a most paternal and interesting address, which showed me the most favorable view, the relation between the noble and the lower class in England, a relation which must depend much on the personal character of the Lord of the Manor. First came prizes to plowmen, then the plowboys, then the shepherds, then to such peasants as had reared many children without aid, then to women who had been many years in the same farmer's service, etc., etc. A clock was awarded to a poor man and his wife who had reared six children and buried seven without aid from the parish. The rapture with which Mr. and Mrs. Flitten and the whole six children gazed on this clock and immense treasure for a peasant's cottage was both comic and affecting. The next morning we made our adjus to our kind host and hostess and set off for London, accompanied by Sir John Tyrell, Major Bearsford, and young Mr. Boilot. End of Letter XXIII. Read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter XXIV of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849 by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to W. D. B., London, November 4, 1847. Dear W., Mr. Bancroft and I dined on Friday the 22nd with Mr. and Mrs. Hawes, under Secretary of State, to meet Mr. Brooke, the Raja of Sarawak, who is a great lion in London just now. He is an English gentleman of large fortune, who has done much to Christianize Borneo and to open its trade to the English. I sat between him and Mr. Ward, formerly Minister to Mexico, before Mr. Pakenham. He wrote a very nice book on Mexico and is an agreeable and intelligent person. On Wednesday, A. and I went together to the National Gallery, and just as we were setting out, Mr. Butler of New York came in, and I invited him to join us. While we were seated before a charming clode, who should come in but Mr. R. W. Emerson, and we had quite a joyful greeting. Just then came in Mr. Rogers with two ladies, one on each arm. He renewed his request that I would bring my son to breakfast with him, and appointed Friday morning, and then added, if those gentlemen who are with you are your friends and countrymen, perhaps they will accompany you. They very gladly acceded, and I was thankful Mr. Emerson had chance to be with me at that moment, as it procured him a high pleasure. On Wednesday your father and I dined with Sir George Gray. About four o'clock came on such a fog as I have not seen in London, and the newspapers of this morning speak of it as greater than has been known for many years. Sir George Gray lives in Eaton Place, which is parallel and just behind Eaton Square. In going that little distance, though there is a brilliant gas light at every door, the coachman was completely bewildered and lost himself entirely. We could only walk the horses the footmen exploring ahead. When the guests, by degrees, arrived, there was the same rejoicing as if we had met on Mont Saint Bernard after a contest with an alpine snowstorm. Lady Gray told me she was dining with the Queen once on one of these tremendous fogs, and that many of the guests did not arrive till dinner was half-through, which was horrible at a royal dinner, but the elements care little for royalty. On Saturday we dined at the Duke de Broglie's. He married the daughter of Madame de Steele, but she is not now living. I was very agreeably placed with Mr. McCauley on one side of me, so that I found it more pleasant than diplomatic dinners usually. At the English tables we meet people who know each other well, and have a common culture and taste in habits of familiarity, and a fund of pleasant stories, but of course at foreign tables they neither know each other or the English so well as to give the same easy flow to conversation. I am afraid we are the greatest diners out in London, but we are brought into contact a great deal with the literary and parliamentary people, which our colleagues know little about, as also with the clergy and the judges. I should not be willing to make it a habit of my life, but it is time not misspent during the years of our abode here. The good old Archbishop of York is dead, and I am glad I paid my visit to him when I did. Mr. Rogers has paid me a long visit to-day and gave me all the particulars of his death. It was a subject I should not have introduced, for of that not of intimate friends, Mr. Greenville, the Archbishop, and himself, he is now all that remains. November 28. On Monday evening I went without Mr. Bancroft to a little party at Mrs. Lyell's, where I was introduced to Mrs. Somerville. She has resided for the last nine years abroad, chiefly at Venice, but has now come to London and taken a house very near us. Her daughter told me that nothing could exceed the ease and simplicity with which her literary occupations were carried on. She is just publishing a book upon natural geography without regard to political boundaries. She writes principally before she rises in the morning on a little piece of board, with her ink stand on a table by her side. After she leaves her room she is as much at leisure as other people, but if an idea strikes her she takes her little board into a corner or window and writes quietly for a short time and returns to join the circle. Dr. Somerville told me that his wife did not discover her genius for mathematics till she was about sixteen. Her brother, who has no talent for it, was receiving a mathematical lesson from a master while she was hemming and stitching in the room. In this way she first heard the problems of Euclid stated and was ravished. When the lesson was over she carried off the book to her room and devoured it. For a long time she pursued her studies secretly, as she had scaled heights of science which were not considered feminine by those about her. December 2. I put down my pen yesterday when the carriage came to the door for my drive. It was a day bright, beaming, and exhilarating as one of our own winter days. I was so busy enjoying the unusual beams of the unclouded sun that I did not perceive for some time that I had left my muff and was obliged to drive home again to get it. While I was waiting in the carriage for the footman to get it, two of the most agreeable old ladyfaces in the world presented themselves at the window. They were the Miss Berries. They had driven up behind me and got out to have a little talk on the sidewalk. I took them into Mr. Bancroft's room and was thankful that my muff had sent me back to receive a visit which, at their age, is rarely paid. I found them, full of delight at Mr. Brook, the Raja of Sarawak, with whose nobleness of soul they would have great sympathy. He is just now the Lion of London, and like all other lions is run after by most people because he is one, and by the few because he deserves to be one. Now, lest you should know nothing about him, let me tell you that at his own expense he fitted out a vessel and established himself at Borneo, where he soon acquired so great an ascendancy over the native Raja that he insisted on resigning to him the government of his province of Sarawak. Here with only three European companions, by moral and intellectual force alone, he succeeded in suppressing piracy and civil war among the natives, and opened a trade with the interior of Borneo which promises great advantages to England. Everybody here has the influenza, a write-down influenza that sends people to their beds. Those who have triumphed at their exemption in the evening wake up perhaps in the morning full of aches in every limb, and scoff no longer. Dinner parties are sometimes quite broken up by the excuses that come pouring in at the last moment. Lady John Russell had seven last week at a small dinner of twelve. Twelve-hundred policemen at one time were taken off duty so that the thieves might have had their own way, but they were probably as badly off themselves. CHAPTER XXVIII My dear uncle and aunt. On Saturday Mr. Hallam wrote us that Sir Robert Peel had promised breakfast with him on Monday morning, and he thought we should like to meet him in that quiet way. So we presented ourselves at ten o'clock, and were joined by Sir Robert, Lord Mayhan, Macaulay, and Millman, who with Hallam himself formed a circle that could not be exceeded in the wide world. I was the only lady except Miss Hallam, but I am especially favored in the breakfast line. I would cross the Atlantic only for the pleasure I had that morning in hearing such men talk for two or three hours in an entirely easy, unceremonious breakfast way. Sir Robert was full of stories, and showed himself as much the scholar as the statesman. Macaulay was overflowing as usual, and Lord Mayhan and Millman are full of learning and accomplishments. The classical scholarship of these men is very perfect, and sometimes one catches a glimpse of awfully deep abysses of learning. But then it is only a glimpse, for their learning has no cumbress and dull pedantry about it. They are all men of society and men of the world who keep up with it everywhere. There is many a pleasant story and many a good joke, and everything discussed but politics, which, as Sir Robert and Macaulay belonged to opposite dynasties, might be dangerous ground. After dinner we went a little before ten to Lady Charlotte Lindsey's. She came last week to say that she was to have a little dinner on Monday, and wished us to come in afterwards. This is universal here, and is the easiest and most agreeable form of society. She had Lord Braham and Colonel and Mrs. Dawson Damer, etc., to dine. Mrs. Damer wished us to come the next evening to her in the same way, just to get our cup of tea. These nice little teas are what you need in Boston. There is no supper, no expense, nothing but society. Mrs. Damer is the granddaughter of the beautiful Lady Wildgrave, the niece of horse Walpole, who married the Duke of Gloucester. She was left an orphan at a year old, and was confided by her mother to the care of Mrs. Fitzherbert. She lived with her until her marriage, and was a great pet of George the Fourth, and tells a great many interesting stories of him and Mrs. Fitzherbert, who was five years older than he. Dear W. Your father left me on the eighteenth to go to Paris. This is the best of all seasons for him to be there, for the ministers are all out of town at Christmas, and in Paris everything is at its height. My friends are very kind to me, those who remain in town. One day I dined at Sir Francis Simkinson's, and found a pleasant party. Lady Simkinson is the sister of Lady Franklin, whom I was very glad to meet, as she has been in America, and knows many Americans, Mrs. Kirkland, for one. Then I have passed one evening for the first time at Mr. Tegens, the Unitarian clergyman, where I met many of the literary people who are out of the great world, and yet very desirable to see. Number two I met the Mrs. Cushman, Charlotte and Susan, who attend his church. I was very much pleased with both of them. I have never seen them play, but they will send me a list of their parts at their next engagement, and I shall certainly go to hear them. They are of old colony descent, from elder Cushman, and have very much of the New England character, culture, and good sense. On Monday I dined at Sir Edward Codrington's, the hero of Navarino, with the Marquise and Marchiones of Queensbury, and a party of admirals and navy officers. On Tuesday I dined at Lady Brays, where were Mr. Rogers, Dr. Holland, Sir Augustus, and Lady Albania Foster, formerly British minister to the United States. He could describe our court, as he called it, in the time of Madison and Monroe. January 1, 1848. This evening, in addition to my usual morning letter from your father, I have another, a new postal arrangement beginning today with the new year. He gives me a most interesting conversation he has just been having with Baron von Humboldt, who is now in Paris. He says he poured out a delicious stream of remarks, anecdotes, narratives, opinion. He feels our great interest in our Mexican affairs, as he has been much there and is a Mexican by adoption. His letter, dated the 31st December, says Madam Adelaide died at three this morning. This death astonished me, for he saw her only a few evenings since at the palace. She was a woman of strong intellect and character, and her brother, the king, was very much attached to her as a counselor and friend. There were more than one hundred Americans to be presented on New Year's Day at Paris, and as Madam Adelaide's death took place without a day's warning, you can imagine the embroidered coats and finery which were laid on the shelf. Saturday, January 7. Yesterday, my dear son, I had a delightful dinner at the Dear Miss Berries. They drove to the door on Thursday and left a little note to say, Can you forgive a poor sick soul for not coming to you before when you were all alone, and begging me to come the next day at seven to dine? There was Lady Charlotte and later Stuart de Rothsy, who was many years ambassadoress at Paris, and very agreeable. Then there was Dr. Holland and Mr. Stanley, the undersecretary of state, etc. In the evening came quite an additional party, and I passed it most pleasantly. Your father writes that on Friday he dined at Tiers with Minier, Cousin, Pontoise, and Lord Normanby. He says such a dinner is unique in a man's life. Minier is delightful, frank, open, gay, full of intelligence, and of that grace which makes society charming. Your father today gives me some account of Tiers. He is now fifty. He rises at five o'clock every morning, toils till twelve, breakfasts, make researches, and then goes to the chambers. In the evening he always receives his friends, except Wednesdays and Thursdays, when he attends his wife to the opera and to the academy. End of letter twenty-six, read by Isabella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter twenty-seven of Letters from England, eighteen forty-six to eighteen forty-nine, by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to Mr. and Mrs. IPD, London, January twenty-eighth, eighteen forty-eight. My dear uncle and aunt. Last Monday I received this note from George Sumner, which I thought might interest you. My dear Mrs. Bancroft, I hasten to congratulate you upon an event most honorable to Mr. Bancroft and to our country. The highest honor which can be bestowed in France upon a foreigner has just been conferred on him. He was chosen this afternoon a corresponding member of the Institute. Five names were presented for the vacant chair of history. Every vote but one was in favor of Mr. Bancroft. That one for Mr. Grote of London, author of the History of Greece. A gratifying fact in regard to this election is that it comes without the knowledge of Mr. Bancroft and without any of those preliminary visits on his part and those appeals to academicians whose votes are desired, that are so common with candidates for vacancies at the Institute. The honor requires double value for being unsought, and I have heard with no small satisfaction several members of the academy contrast the modest reserve of Mr. Bancroft with the restless maneuvers to which they have been accustomed. Prescott, you know, is already a member, and I think America may be satisfied with two out of seven of a class of history which is selected from the world. End of Letter 27, read by Cibela Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 28 of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849 by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to T.D. London, February 24, 1848. My dear brother, great excitement exists in London today at the reception of the news from France. Guiseaux is overthrown, and Count Maul is made prime minister. The National Guards have sided with the people and would not fire upon them, and that secret of the weakness of the army being revealed I do not see why the Liberal Party cannot obtain all they want in the end. Louis Philippe has sacrificed the happiness of France for the advancement of his own family, but nations in the nineteenth century have learned that they were not made to be the slaves of a dynasty. Mr. Bancroft dines with the French minister today, not with a party, but quite en famille, and he will learn there what the hopes and fears of the government are. February 25. The news this morning is only from Amiens, which has risen in support of France. The railways are torn up all round Paris to prevent the passage of troops, and the roads and barriers are all in possession of the people. All France will follow the lead of Paris, and what will be the result Heaven only knows. End of Letter XXVIII. Read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter XXIX of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849 by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to IPD, London, February 26, 1848. My dear uncle, on Thursday Mr. Bancroft dined with Count Jarnak, the minister in Duke de Broglie's absence, and he little dreamt of the blow awaiting him. The fortifications and the armies seemed to make the king quite secure. On Friday Mr. Bancroft went to dine with Kenyon, and I drove there with him for a little air. On my return, Cates, the butler, saluted me with the wondrous news of the deposition and flight of the royal family, which Mr. Broadhead had rushed up from his club to impart to us. I was engaged to a little party at Mr. Hallam's, where I found everybody in great excitement. Sunday noon. Today we were to have dined with Baron de Rothschild, but this morning I got a note from the beautiful Baroness, saying that her sister-in-law and her mother, with three children, had just to ride from Paris at her house in the greatest distress, without a change of clothes, and in deep anxiety about the Baron who had stayed behind. Our colleagues all looked bewildered and perplexed beyond measure. The English aristocracy have no love for Louis Philippe, but much less for a republic so near at hand, and everybody seemed perplexed and uneasy. Tuesday. On Sunday the Duc de Nemours arrived at the French embassy, and Monday the poor duchess de Montpensierre, the innocent cause of all the trouble. No one knows where the duchess de Nemours and her young children are, and the king and queen are entirely missing. At one moment it is reported that he is drowned, and then again at Brussels. Wednesday. Today the French embassy have received dispatches announcing the new government, and Count Jarnac has immediately resigned. This made it impossible for the Duc de Nemours and the duchess de Montpensierre to remain at the embassy, and they fell by inheritance to Mr. Vandeweyre, whose queen is Louis Philippe's daughter. The queen has taken Louis Philippe's daughter, Princess Clementine, who married Prince Auguste Saxe Coburg to the palace, but for state policy's sake she can do nothing about the others. Mr. Vandeweyre offered Mr. Bates's place of East Sheen, which was most gratefully accepted. Friday. This morning came Thackeray, who is the soul of Punch, and showed me a piece he had written for the next number. Saturday. The king has arrived. What a crossing of the channel, p-jacket, woolen comforter and all. The flight is a perfect comedy, and if Punch had tried to invent anything more ludicrous it would have failed. Panic, despotism and cowardice. These things are much more exciting here than across the water. We are so near the scene of action, and everybody has a more personal interest here in all these matters. The whole week has been like a long play, and now, on Saturday night, I want nothing but repose. What a dream it must be to the chief actors. The queen, who is always good and noble, was adverse to such ignomious flight. She preferred staying and taking what came, and if Madame Adelaide had lived they would never have made such a word indecipherable figure. Her pride and courage would have inspired them. With her seemed to fly Louis-Philippe's star as Napoleon's with Josephine. Mr. Emerson has just come to London, and we give him a dinner on Tuesday, the fourteenth. Several persons wish to see him, and Moncton Milne's reviewed him in Blackwood. End of letter twenty-nine, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter thirty of letters from England, eighteen-forty-six to eighteen-forty-nine, by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to W.D.B., London, March eleventh, eighteen-forty-eight. Dear W., Yesterday we dined at Lord Landstowns. Among the guests were M. and M. van der Weyre and M. Austen, the translatress, who has been driven over here from Paris, where she has resided for several years. She is a vehement friend of Guiseaux's, though a bitter accuser of Louis Philippe, but how can they be separated? She interests herself strongly, now, in all his arrangements, and is assisting his daughters to form their humble establishment. He and his daughters together have about eight hundred pounds a year, and that, in London, is poverty. They have taken a small house in Brompton Square, a little out of town, and one of those suburban, unfashionable regions where most accommodations can be had at the least price. What a change for those who have witnessed their almost regal receptions in Paris. The young ladies bear very sweetly all their reverses. Guiseaux himself, I hear, is as fiere as ever, and almost gay. Princess de Leven is here at the Clarendon, and their friendship is as great as ever. March fifteenth. Today we had an agreeable dinner at our own house. Macaulay, Millman, Lord Morpeth, and Moncton Milnes were almost charming, and we ladies listened with eager ears. Conversation was never more interesting than just now in this great crisis of the world's affairs. Mr. Emerson was here, and seemed to enjoy it much. Friday, March seventeenth. Things look rather darker in France, but we ought not to expect a republic to be established without some difficulties. You cannot judge of the state of France, however, through the medium of the English newspapers, for, of course, English sympathies are all entirely against it. They never like France, and a republic of any kind still less. A peaceful and prosperous republic in the heart of Europe would be much more deprecated than a state of anarchy. The discussion of French matters reveals to me every moment the deep repugnance of the English to republican institutions. It lets in a world of light upon opinions and feelings which otherwise would not have been discovered by me. Sunday, March nineteenth. Yesterday we breakfasted at Mrs. Milnes. I was the only lady, but there were Macaulay, Hallam, Lord Morpeth, and above all Charles Austin, whom I had not seen before, as he never dines out, but who is the most striking talker in England. He has made a fortune by the law in the last few years which gives him an income of eight thousand pounds. He has the great railroad cases which come before the House of Lords. On Tuesday came a flying report of a revolution in Berlin, but no one believed it. We concluded it rather a speculation of the newsmen who are hawking revolutions after every mail in second and third editions. We were going that evening to a soiree at Bunsen's, whom we found cheerful as ever and fearing no evil. On Monday the news of the revolution in Austria produced a greater sensation even than France, for it was the very pivot of conservatism. On Thursday I received the letter from A at 8 a.m., which I enclose to you. It gives an account of the revolution in Berlin. End of Letter 30. Read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 31 of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849, by Elizabeth Davis-Bankroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to TD, March 31st. The Old World is undergoing a complete reorganization and is unfolding a rapid series of events more astonishing than anything in history. Where it will stop and what will be its results, nobody can tell. Royalty has certainly not added to its respectability by its conduct in its time of trial. Since the last steamer went, Italy has shaken off the Austrian yoke. Denmark has lost her German provinces. Poland has risen or is about to rise, which will bring Russia thundering down upon liberal Europe. Our whole diplomatic corps are certainly in a fix, and we are really the only members of it who have any reason to be quiet at ease. Two or three have been called home to be ministers of foreign affairs as they have learned something of constitutional liberty in England. England is, as yet, all quiet, and I hope we'll keep so, but the Chartist's artwork in Ireland is full of inflammable matter. But England does love her institutions and is justly proud of their comparative freedom, and long may she enjoy them. On Sunday Mr. Emerson dined with us with Lady Morgan and Mrs. Jamison, the authorists. On Monday I took him to a little party at Lady Morgan's. His works are a good deal known here. I have great pleasure in seeing so old a friend so far from home. I think we shall have very few of our countrymen out this spring, as traveling Europe is so uncertain with everything in commotion. Those who are passing the winter in Italy are quite shut in at present, and if war begins, no one knows where it will spread. End of Letter 31. Red by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 32 of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849 by Elizabeth Davis Spankroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to W. D. B. April 7, 1848. On Wednesday we had an agreeable dinner at Mrs. Milner Gibson's. Mr. and Mrs. Disraeli. Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan, brother of Mrs. Norton, etc., were among the guests. After dinner I had a very long talk with Disraeli. He is, you know, of the ultra-Torre party here, and looks at the continental movements from the darkest point of view. He cannot admit, as a possibility, the renovation of European society upon more liberal principles, and considers it as the complete dissolution of European civilization which will, like Asia, soon present but the ashes of a burnt-out flame. This is most atheistic, godless, and un-Christian doctrine, and he cannot himself believe it. The art of printing and the rapid dissemination of thought changes all these things in our days. End of Letter 32, read by Cibela Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 33 of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849 by Elizabeth Davis Spankroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to IPD, April 10. This is the day of the great chartished meeting, which has terrified all London to the last degree, I think most needlessly. The city and town is, at this moment, stiller than I have ever known it, for not a carriage dares to be out. Nothing is seen but a special constable, every gentleman in London is sworn into that office, occasionally some on foot, some on horseback, scouring the streets. I took a drive early this morning with Mr. Bancroft, and nothing could be less like the eve of a revolution. This evening, when the petition is to be presented, may bring some disturbance, not from the chartist themselves, but from the disorderly persons who may avail themselves of the occasion. The Queen left town on Saturday for the Isle of White, as she had so lately been confined it was feared her health might suffer from any agitation. I passed a long train of artillery on Saturday evening coming into town which was the most earnest looking thing I have seen. Today we were to have dined at Mrs. Mansfield's, but her dinner was postponed from the great alarm about the chartists. There is not the slightest danger of a revolution in England. The upper-middle class, which on the continent is entirely with the people, the professional and mercantile class, is in here entirely conservative, and without that class no great changes can ever be made. The Duke de Montabello said of France that he knew there were lava streams below, but he did not know the crust was so thin. Here on the contrary the crust is very thick. And yet I can see in the most conservative circles that a feeling is gaining ground that some concessions must be made. An enlargement of the suffrage one hears now often discussed as perhaps an approaching necessity. Friday, April 14. The day of the chartists passed off with most ridiculous quiet, and the government is stronger than ever. If the alien bill passes our American friends must mind their peas and cues, for if they praise the model republic too loudly they may be packed off at any time, particularly if they have long beards, for it seems to be an axiom here that beards, mustaches and barricades are cousins German at least. Mr. Bancroft goes to Paris on Monday, the seventeenth, to pass the Easter holidays. He will go on with his manuscripts, and at the same time witness the elections and meeting of the convention. End of Letter 33. Read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 34 of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849, by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to W.D.B., London, April 19, 1848. Dear W., today I have driven down to Richmond to lunch with Mrs. Drummond, who is passing Easter holidays there. On coming home I found a letter from Mr. Bancroft from which I will make some extracts, as he has been the best source of knowledge in Paris. Then I went to Minier, who, you know, is politically the friend of Thiers. He pointed out to me the condition of France and drew for me a picture of what it was and of the damage. I begin to see the difference between France and us. Here they are accustomed to be governed. We are accustomed to govern. Here power may be seized and exercised, if exercised in a satisfactory manner. With us the foundation of power, its constitutionality and the legality of its acts, are canvassed and analysed. Here an unpopularity is made away with by a revolution, and you know how we deal with it. Thus power, if in favour, may dare anything, and if out of favour, is a little likely to be forgiven. More fathers had to unite the thirteen states. Here they have unity enough and run no risk but from the excess of it. My hopes are not less than they were, but all that France needs may not come at once. We were fourteen years in changing our confederation into a union. Perhaps France cannot be expected to jump at once into perfect legislation or perfect forms. Crude ideas are afloat, but as to communism it is already exploded, or will be brushed away from legislative power as soon as the National Assembly meets, though the question of ameliorating the condition of the labouring class is more and more engaging the public mind. I spent an hour with Cousin, the minister of a morning. He gave me sketches of many of the leading men of these times, and I made him detail to me the scene of Louis Philippe's abdication, which took place in a manner quite different from what I had heard in London. Cousin, by the way, says that the duped in amours throughout behaved exceedingly well. Thanks to the club de la Nouvelle République. Did not think much of the speaking which I heard. From the club I went to Thiers, where I found Cousin and Minier in one or two more. Some changed since I met him. A leader of opposition, then a prime minister, and now left a ground by the shifting tide. Everybody has given up Louis Philippe. Everybody considers the nonsense of Louis Blanc as drawing to its close. The delegates from Paris will full, half, be universally acceptable. Every force that the provincial delegates will be moderate republicans. The people are not in a passion. They go quietly enough about their business of constructing new institutions. Le Drume Roulin, Louis Blanc, and Flocon tried to lead the way to ill, but La Martin, whose heroism passes belief and activity passes human power, won the victory over them, found himself on Sunday, and again yesterday, sustained by all Paris, and has not only conquered but conciliated them, and everybody is now firmly of opinion that the republic will be established quietly. But while there are no difficulties from the disorderly, but what can be easily overcome, the want of republican and political experience, combined with vanity and self-reliance and idealism, may throw impediments in the way of what the wisest wished, vis, two elected chambers, and a president. END OF LETTER XIV My dear W, last evening, Thursday, we went to see Jenny Lind on her first appearance this year. She was received with enthusiasm, and the queen still more so. It was the first time the queen had been at the opera since the birth of her child, and since the republican spirit was abroad, and loyalty burst out in full force. Now loyalty is very novel and pleasant to witness, to us who have never known it. London May 31st, 1848. Now for my journal which has gone lamely on since the twenty-fourth of February. The queen's ball was to take place on the evening, on which I closed my last letter. My dress was a white crepe over white satin. With flounces of honiton lace looped up with pink tube-roses, a wreath of tube-roses and bouquet for the corsage. We had tickets sent us to go through the garden and set down at a private door, which saves waiting in the long line of carriages for your turn. The diplomatic corps arranged themselves in a line near the door at which the queen enters the suite of rooms, which was at ten precisely. She passes through, curt-seeing and bowing very gracefully, until she reaches the throne in the next room, where she and the duchess of Cambridge, the duchess of Saxe Weimar and her daughters, who are here on a visit, et cetera, et cetera, sit down, while Prince Albert, the prince of Prussia, and other sprigs of royalty stand near. The dancing soon began in front of the canopy, but the queen herself did not dance on account of her mourning for Prince Albert's grandmother. There was another band and dancing in other rooms at the same time. After seeing several dances here, the queen and her suite moved by the flourish of trumpets to another room, the guests forming a line as she passes, bowing and smiling. Afterward she made a similar progress to supper, her household officers moving backwards before her, and her ladies and royal relatives and friends following. At half-past one her majesty retired and the guests departed, such as did not have to wait two hours for their carriages. On Saturday we went at two to the Fete of Flowers at Chiswick, and at half-past seven dined at Lord Montiegels to meet Monsieur and Mademoiselle Gouzot. He has the finest head in the world, but his person is short and insignificant. On Wednesday we dined at Lady Chantry's to meet a charming party. Afterward we went to a magnificent ball at the Duke of Devonshiers with all the great world. On Friday we went to Faraday's lecture at the Royal Institution. We went in with the Duke and Duchess of Northumberland, and I sat by her during the lecture. On Saturday was the Queen's birthday drawing-room. Mr. Bancroft dined at Lord Palmerston's with all the diplomats, and I went in the evening with a small party of ladies. On coming home we drove round to see the brilliant birthday illuminations. The first piece of intelligence I heard at Lady Palmerston's was the death of the Princess Sophia, an event which is a happy release for her, for she was blind and a great sufferer. It has overturned all court festivities, of course, for the present, and puts us all in deep mourning, which is not very convenient just now, in the brilliant season, and when we all had our dress arrangements made. The Queen was to have a concert tonight, a drawing-room next Friday, and a ball on the sixteenth, which are all deferred. I forgot to say that I got a note from Miss Coutts on Sunday, asking me to go with her the next day to see the Chinese junk. So at three the next day we were paired to her house. Her sisters, Miss Burdette, and Mr. Rogers, were all the party. At the junk for the first time I saw Metternich and the Princess, his wife. Letters to W. D. B., London, June 29, 1848 My dear W., when I last left off I was going to dine at Miss Coutts's to meet the Duchess of Cambridge. The party was brilliant, including the Duke of Wellington, Lord and Lady Duro, Lady Jersey, and the beautiful Lady Clementine Villiers, her daughter, etc. When royal people arrive, everybody rises and remains standing while they stand, and if they approach you or look at you, you must perform the lowest of curtsies. The courtesy made to royalty is very like the one I was taught to make when I was a little girl at Miss Tuft's school in Plymouth. One sinks down instead of stepping back in dancing school fashion. After dinner the Duchess was pleased to stand until the gentleman rejoined us. Of course we must all stand. The next day we dined at the Lord Mayors to meet the ministers. This was a most interesting affair. We had all the peculiar ceremonies which I described to you last autumn, but in addition the party was most distinguished, and we had speeches from Lord Lansdown, Lord Palmerston, Lord John, Lord Auckland, Sir George Gray, etc. End of Letter 36, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 37 of Letters from England, 1846 to 1849 by Elizabeth Davis-Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to W.D.B., London, July 21st, 1848. I was truly grieved that the last steamer should go to Boston without a line from me, but I was in Yorkshire and you must forgive me. I left off with the 26th of June. The next evening was the Queen's Concert, which was most charming. I sat very near the Duke of Wellington, who often spoke to me between the songs. The next day we went with Miss Coots to her bank, lunched there, and went all over the building. Then we went to the tower and the tunnel together, she never having seen either. So ignorant are the West End people of City Lions. And now comes my pleasant Yorkshire excursion. We left London at half-past three at a distance of 180 miles. This was Saturday, July 8th. At York we found Mr. Hudson ready to receive us and conduct us to a special train which took us 18 miles on the way to Newby Park. And there we found carriages to take us four miles to our destination. We met at dinner and found our party to consist of the Duke of Richmond, Lord Lonsdale, Lord George Bentink, Lord Ingester, Lord John Bearsford, Lady Webster, whose husband now dead was the son of Lady Holland, two or three agreeable talkers to fill in and ourselves. Tuesday. Lady Webster, Mr. Bancroft and myself, went to Castle Howard, as Lord Morpeth had written to his mother that we were to be there and would lunch with her. Castle Howard is 25 miles the other side of York, which is itself 25 miles from Newby. But what is fifty miles when one is under the wing of the railway king and can have a special engine at one's disposal? On arriving at the Castle Howard station we found Lord Carlisle's carriage with four horses and most venerable coachmen waiting to receive us. We entered the park almost immediately, but it is about four miles to the castle, through many gates which we had mounted footmen open for us. Lady Carlisle received us in the most delightful manner. I was delighted to see Lord Morpeth's home and his mother, who seldom now goes to London. She was the daughter of the beautiful Duchess of Devonshire and took me into her own dressing room to show me her picture. On Wednesday we went into York to witness the reception of Prince Albert, to see the ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, the Flower Show, to lunch with the Lord Mayor, and above all to attend prayers in the minister and hear a noble anthem. The cathedral was crowded with strangers and a great many from London. The next day was the day of the great dinner, and I send you the post containing Mr. Bancroft's speech. It was warmly admired by all who heard it. At ten at night we ladies set out for York to go to the Lord Mayor's Ball where the gentlemen were to meet us from the dinner. Everybody flocked round to congratulate me upon your father's speech. Even Prince Albert, when I was led up to make my curtsy, heard me his hand, which is a great curtesy in royalty, and spoke of the great beauty and eloquence of Mr. B's speech. The Prince soon went away, the Lord Mayor took me down to supper, and I sat between him and the Duke of Richmond at the high table which went across the head of the hall. Guild Hall is a beautiful old room with a fine old traceried window, and the scene, with five tables going the length of the hall and upper one across the head, was very gay and brilliant. There were a few toasts, and your father again made a little speech, short and pleasant. We did not get home till half past three in the morning. On Friday morning, July 14th, many of the guests, the Duke of Richmond, etc., took their departure, and Mr. Hudson had to escort Prince Albert to town, but returned the same evening. The next day we all went to pay a visit to an estate of Mr. Hudson's, for which he paid five hundred thousand pounds to the Duke of Devonshire. It is nobly situated in the Yorkshire Wolves, a fine range of hills and overlooking the valley of the Humber, which was interesting to me as it was the river which our pilgrim fathers sailed down, and lay in the wash its mouth, awaiting their passage to Holland. They came, our pilgrim fathers, mostly from Lincolnshire and the region which lay below us. I thought of them, and the scene of their sufferings was more ennobled in my eyes from their remembrance than from the noble mansions and rich estates, which feast the eye. On Monday morning we left Newby for York on our way home. It so happened that the judges were to open the court that very morning, on which occasion they always breakfast with the Lord Mayor in their scarlet robes and wigs. The Lord Mayor and Alderman are also in their furred scarlet robes, and the Lady Mayoress presents the judges with enormous bouquets of the richest flowers. We were invited to this breakfast, and I found it very entertaining. I was next the High Sheriff, who was very desirous that we should stay a few hours, and go to the castle and see the court opened, and listen to a case or two. The High Sheriff of a county is a great character, and has a carriage and liveries as grand as the Queens. After breakfast we bade adieu to our York friends, and set off with our big bouquets, for the distribution was extended to us for home. CHAPTER VIII. MY DEAR BROTHER On Saturday we set off for Nunnam, the magnificent seat of the late Archbishop of York, now in possession of his eldest son, Mr. Granville Harcourt. The other guests, besides ourselves, were Sir Robert and Lady Peale, Lord and Lady Villiers, Lord and Lady Norris, Lord Harry Vane, etc. We considered it a great privilege to be staying in the same house with Sir Robert Peale, and I had also the pleasure of sitting by him at dinner all the three days we were there. He was full of conversation of the best kind. Sir Danison and Lady Charlotte, his wife, were also of the party. She was the daughter of the Duke of Portland and sister of Lord George Venting, Sir Robert's great antagonist in the house. On Sunday morning we attended the pretty little church on the estate, which, with its parsonage, is a pleasing object on the grounds. The next day the whole party were taken to Blenheim, the seat of the famous Duke of Marlborough, built at the expense of the country. The grounds are exquisite, but I was most charmed by the collection of pictures. There were the finest van Dykes, Rubens, and Sir Joshua Reynolds, which I have ever seen. Sir Robert Peale is a great connoisseur in art and seemed highly to enjoy them. Altogether it was a truly delightful day, the drive of fifteen miles and open carriages, and through Oxford, being of itself a high pleasure. Yesterday we returned to London, and on Thursday we set out for Scotland. End of Letter thirty-eight, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter thirty-nine of Letters from England, eighteen forty-six to eighteen forty-nine, by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter to Mr. and Mrs. IPD, Edinburgh, August sixteenth, eighteen forty-eight. My dear uncle and aunt. Of Edinburgh I cannot say enough to express my admiration. The Castle Rock, Arthur's Seat, Salisbury Crogs, and Caughton Hill are all separate and fine mountains, and with the frith of fourth the ocean and the old picturesque town make an assemblage of fine objects that I have seen nowhere else. Mr. Rutherford, the Lord Advocate, who is of the ministry, had written to his friends that we were coming, and several gentlemen came by breakfast time the next morning. Mr. Gordon, his nephew, married the daughter of Professor Wilson, and invited us to dine that day to meet the Professor, etc. We drove out after breakfast into the country to Hawthorndon, formerly the residence of Drummond, the poet, and to Lord Roslin's grounds, where are the ruins of Roslin Castle and above all of the Roslin Chapel. After lingering and admiring long we returned to Edinburgh, just in season for dinner at Mr. Gordon's, where we found Professor Wilson and another daughter and son, Mrs. Rutherford, wife of the Lord Advocate, and Captain Rutherford, his brother with his wife. We had a very agreeable evening and engaged to dine there again, quite en famille, with only the Professor, whose conversation is delightful. The next morning we went out to Craigcook, Lord Geoffrey's country seat, to see and lunch with him. He was confined to his couch. He is seventy-three or seventy-four, but looks not a minute older than fifty. He has a fine head and forehead, and most agreeable and courteous manners, rather of the old school. As he could not rise to receive me he kissed my hand. Mrs. Geoffrey is an intelligent and agreeable woman, but has been much out of health the last year. She was Miss Wilkes of New York, you know. The house was an old, castellated and fortified house, and with modern additions, is a most beautiful residence. And Rutherford told me that when he received the Lord Advocate's letter announcing that we were coming, he went to see Lord Geoffrey to know if he would be well enough to see us, and he expressed the strongest admiration for Mr. Bancroft's work. This may have disposed them to receive us with the courgeality which made our visit so agreeable. Mr. Empson, his son-in-law and the present editor of the Edinburgh Review, was staying there, and after talking two hours with Lord and Mrs. Geoffrey, we took with him a walk in the grounds from which are delightful and commanding views of the whole environs, and never were environs so beautiful. CHAPTER XXVIII, DEAR W. Being detained here by rain this morning, I devoted to you and to my journal. The next day was Sunday, but the weather being fine, we concluded to continue our journey, and followed the tey, seeing Burnham Wood and Dunsonane on our way up to Dunkeld, near to which is the fine seat of the Duke of Athel. We took a delightful walk in the beautiful grounds, and went on to Blair Athel to sleep. This is the chief residence of the Duke of Athel, and he has here another house and grounds, very pretty, though not as extensive as those at Dunkeld. When the innkeeper found who we were, he insisted on sending a message to the Duke, who sent down an order to us to drive up Glen Tilt and met us there himself. We entered through the park and followed up the Tilt. Nothing could be more wild than this narrow winding pass which we followed for eight miles till we came to the Duke's Forest Lodge. Here we're waiting for us a most picturesque group in full Highland dress—the head stalker, the head shepherd, the kennel-keepers with their dogs in leashes, the piper, etc., etc. They told us that the Duke had sent up word that we were coming, and he would soon be there himself. In a few moments he appeared, also in full Highland costume, with bare knees, kilt, filibag, etc. He told us he had then, on these mountains, fifteen thousand head of deer, and thought we might like to see a start, as it is called. The head stalker told him, however, that the wind had changed, which affects the scent, and that nothing could be done that day. The Duke tried to make us amends by making some of his people sing us Gaelic songs and show us some of the athletic Highland games. The little lodge he also went over with us and said that the Duchess came there and lived six or seven weeks in the autumn, and that the Duke and Duchess of Buckley rented it for many years while he was a minor. If you could see the tiny little rooms you would be astonished to find what the love of sport can do for these people who possess actual palaces. After dining again upon salmon and grouse at the pretty little inn, we took a post-shay's to go on to Tammoth, a little village adjoining Lord Bredlebane's place. We did not arrive at the inn till after eight and found it completely full. We were sent to the school-masters to sleep in the smallest of little rooms, with a great clock which ticked and struck so loud that we were obliged to silence it. To the great bewilderment, I dare say, of the scholars the next day. Before we were in bed there was a knock at the door which proved to be from Lord Bredlebane's butler to say that he had been commissioned to inquire whenever we arrived at the inn, as his Lordship had heard that we were in Scotland and wished us to make them a visit. Next morning before we were up came a note from Lord Bredlebane urging us to come immediately to the castle, Tammoth Castle, though not more than fifty years old, has the air of an old feudal castle. As we were ushered up the magnificent staircase through a first, a large anti-chamber, and then through a superb hall with lofty ceilings, glowing with armorial bearings, and with the most light and delicate carving on every part of the oaken paneling, then through a long gallery of heavier carving filled with fine old cabinets into the library, it seemed to me that the whole castle was one of those magical delusions that one reads of in fairy tales. So strange did it seem to find such princely magnificence all alone amid such wild and solitary scenes. I had always the feeling that it would suddenly vanish, at some wave of an enchanterer's wand, as it must have arisen also. The library is by far the finest room I ever saw. Its windows and arches and doorways are all of a fine-carved gothic openwork as light as gossamer. One door which he lately added cost a thousand pounds. The door alone, not the doorway, so you can judge of the exquisite workmanship. Here Lady Bredelbane joined us whom I had never before met. During dinner the piper in full costume was playing the peabrock in a gallery outside the window, and after he had done, a band, also in full Highland dress, played some of the Italian, German, as well as Scotch music, at just an agreeable distance. I've seen nothing in England which compares in splendor with the state which is kept up here. We passed Wednesday and Thursday here most agreeably, and we rode or walked during the whole days. Lord Bredelbane, by the way, has just been appointed Lord High Chamberlain to the Queen in place of Lord Spencer. I am glad of this because we are brought often in contact with the Lord Chamberlain, but it is very strange to me that a man who lives like a king, and through whose dominions we travel a hundred miles from the German Ocean to the Atlantic, can be Chamberlain to any Queen. These feudal subordinations we Republicans cannot understand. We stopped at the little town of Obann. After reading our letters and getting a dinner, we rent out just before sunset for a walk. We wished so much to see the ruins of Dunnelly. We passed the Porter's Lodge and found ourselves directly in the most picturesque grounds on the very shore of the ocean, and with the western islands lying before us. Mr. Bancroft sent in his card, which brought out instantly the key to the old castle, and in a few moments Captain McDougal and Mr. Phipps, a brother of Lord Norman Bees, joined us. They pointed out the interesting points of the landscape, the castle of Ard Tornish, the scene of the Lord of the Isles, etc., in addition to the fine old ruin we came to see. We lingered till the lighthouses had begun to glow, and I was reminded very much of the scenery at Woods Hole, which I used to enjoy so much, only that could not boast the association with poetry and feudal romance. We then went into the house and found a charming domestic circle in full evening dress with short sleeves, so that my gray traveling cloak and straw bonnet were rather out of place. Here were Mrs. Phipps and Ms. Campbell, her sister, daughters of Sir Colin Campbell, and to my great delight Captain McDougal brought out the great brooch of Lorne, which his ancestor won from Bruce, and the story of which you will find in the Lord of the Isles. It fastens the scotch plaid, and is larger than a teacup. He described to me the reverential way in which Scott took it in both hands when he showed it to him. The whole evening was pleasant, and the more so from being unexpected. One little thing which adds always to the charm of scotch scenery is the dress of the peasantry. One never sees the real Highland costume, but every shepherd has his plaid slung over one shoulder, making the most graceful drapery. This with the universal Glen Gary bonnet is very pretty. At Glasgow we intended to pay a visit of a day to the historian Allison, but found letters announcing Governor Davis's arrival in London with Mr. Corcoran, and immediately turned our faces homeward. We were to have passed a week on our return amidst the lakes, and I protested against going back to London without one look at least. Though we stopped at Kendall on Saturday, took a little carriage over to Windermere and Ambleside, and passed the whole evening with the poet and Mrs. Wordsworth at their own exquisite home on Ridlemount. At ten o'clock we went from there to Miss Martino, who has built the prettiest of houses in this valley near to Mrs. Arnold at Fox Howe. As we had only one day we made an arrangement with Miss Martino to go with us and be our guide, and set out the next day at six o'clock and went over to Keswick to breakfast. And thence we went to Barrowdale by the side of Durwent Water and afterward to Ullswater and home by the fine pass of Kirkstone. On my return I found the Duke and Duchess of Argyle had been to see us. The time of closing the dispatch bag has come and I must hurry over my delight at the scenery of the lakes. I could have spent a month there, much to my mind. We arrived home on Monday and early next morning came Mr. Davis and Mr. Corcoran. They went to see the Parliament, parogued in person by the Queen. End of letter forty, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information please visit LibriVox.org. Letter forty-one of Letters from England, eighteen forty-six to eighteen forty-nine by Elizabeth Davis Bankcroft. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. To Mr. and Mrs. IPD, London, December fourteen, eighteen forty-eight. Dear Uncle and Aunt, On Friday we dined at Mr. Tufnells, who married last spring the daughter of Lord Roseberry, Lady Anne Primrose, a very nice person to use the favourite English term of praise. Sir John Hobhouse was of our party and he told us so much of Byron, who was his intimate friend, as you will remember from his life, that we stayed much longer than usual at dinner. On Tuesday we were invited to dine with Miss Coots, but were engaged to Mr. Gurney, an immensely rich Quaker banker, brother of Mrs. Frye. His daughter is married to Ernest Bunson, the second son of our friend. We were delighted with the whole family scene, which was quite unlike anything we have seen in England. They live at Upton Park, a pretty country seat about eight miles from us, and are surrounded by their children and grandchildren. Their costume and language are strictly Quaker, which was most becoming to Mrs. Gurney's sweet, placid face. Louis Napoleon's election seems fixed, and is to me one of the most astounding things of the age. When we passed several days with him at Mr. Bates's, I would not have given two straws for his chance of a future career. Tonight Mendelssohn's Elijah is to be performed, and Jenny Lind sings. We had not been able to get tickets, which have been sold for five guineas apiece the last few days. To my great joy Mrs. Coots has this moment written me that she has two for our use, and asks us to take an early dinner at five with her and accompany her. Letter 42 of Letters from England, 1846-1849 by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft, read for Librebox.org into the public domain. Letter to IPD, London, June 8, 1849 I thank you, my dear uncle, for your pleasant letter, which contained, as usual, much that was interesting to me. And so Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence are to be our successors. Happy as we have been here, I have a great satisfaction that we are setting, rather than rising, that we have done our work instead of having it to do. Like all our pleasures, those here are earned by fatigue and effort, and I would not willingly live the last three years over again, or three years like them, though they have contained high and lasting gratifications. We have constantly the strongest expressions of regret at our approaching departure, and in many cases it is, I know, most genuine. My relations have been most agreeable, and particularly in that intellectual circle whose high character and culture have made their regard most precious to me. The manifestations of this kindness increases the time approaches for our going, and we are inundated with invitations of all kinds. Young Prescott is here. I wish Prescott could have seen his reception at Lady Lovelace's the other evening, when there happened to be a collection of genius in literature. What a blessing it is, sometimes, to a son to have a father. Tomorrow we dine with Lord John Russell down at Pembroke Lodge in Richmond Park. On Monday we breakfast with Macaulay. We met him at dinner this week at Lady Waldgraves, and he said, Would you be willing to breakfast with me some morning if I asked one or two other ladies? Willing, I said, I should be delighted beyond measure. So he sent us a note for Monday next. I depend upon seeing his bachelor establishment, his library, and mode of life. On Wednesday we go to a ball at the palace. But it is useless to go on, for every day is filled in this way, and gives you an idea of London in the season. Letter to IPD London June 22, 1849 My dear uncle, yesterday I passed one of the most agreeable days I have had in England at Oxford, where I went with a party to see Mr. Bancroft take his degree. Nothing could have gone off better than the whole thing. Mr. Bancroft went up the day before, but Mrs. Stuart McKenzie and her daughter, with Lady Elizabeth Waldgrave, Louisa, and myself, went up yesterday morning and returned at night. We lunched at the vice-chancellors, where Mr. B made a pleasant little informal speech, and were treated with great kindness by everybody. I wish you could have seen Mr. Bancroft walking round all day with his scarlet gown and round velvet cap, such as you see in old Venetian pictures. From this time forward we shall have the pain of bidding adieu, one by one, to our friends, as they leave town not to return until we are gone. End of LETTER 43 End of Letters from England, 1846-1849 by Elizabeth Davis Bancroft Read by Cibella Denton