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Lady Morgan’s Memoirs
Joseph Atkinson to Sydney Owenson, 24 August 1806
INTRODUCTION & INDEXES
DOCUMENT INFORMATION
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Preface
Vol. I Contents.
Prefatory Address
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Vol. I Index
Vol. II Contents
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter IV
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XL
Vol. II Index
Creative Commons License

Licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 Unported License.
Produced by CATH
 
Melfield, Dublin,
Sunday, 24th August, 1806.
My Dear Imogen!

“A rose called by any other name would smell as sweet.” So, in short Imogen or Glorvina, you are equally the same. We called, Saturday, at Sir William Homan’s, and talked about you. Lady Charlotte said my tributary verses to you ought to be prefixed to the Wild Irish Girl. Sir William said he was
THE WILD IRISH GIRL.289
jealous of me, for he was your slave; but I replied I was your slave and blackamoor, and all this in the presence of Mrs. A——, and Lady Lonsdale, their aunt J—— with them.

I send you a note from Cooper Walker, who is in raptures at your novel. You’ll see by the papers that Moore has very modestly and candidly told the public the nature of the affair between him and Jeffrey, who has made him a satisfactory and handsome amende honorable, and all is peace again. But he deserves to have his fancy chequered like your ladyship’s, which sometimes runs too frisky and floats wildly in the regions of fictitious, indiscreet expression; and, believe me, I am too much the friend of both not to curb your foaming and prancing Pegasus whenever it becomes unruly.

Now, as to your Opera, as I before told you, I like it much; but really it is a pity to smuggle it into an after-piece. I send it, therefore, to you to add to it; you’ll perceive some pencilled remarks of mine. There is great opportunity for spectacle and decoration, and the characters, so far, are very well, and the dialogue and songs very appropriate.

I tell you again, it is better to endeavour at a representation on the London stage, both for gain and profit, than here; lose no time, therefore, in adding to it by your fancy and invention. Take care of the rest for your interest. At any rate, in its present incomplete and ill-written state, and without a title, it is not fit to be laid before any manager. You must, therefore, after you have made your alterations, in any way you
290 LADY MORGAN'S MEMOIR.  
choose, get it copied out fairly for a proper book with a cover. Mind, it is better to write the name of the person speaking above the dialogue than in the margin; and the songs to be inserted more in the centre, and distinct from the other writing.

I don’t know what name you should give your offspring. Tell me of some, and I’ll give you my opinion.

I have at last got your collection of Irish melodies: it is admirably printed, and I think the words excellent; of course the music is familiar to us. Have you got a set? If not, if you order one through me I’ll get it forwarded to you.

Had not Z. X. been put to the verses enclosed I should have sworn them to be yours. Pray keep them safe for me, I beseech you, for I consider them excellent, and breathe your patriotic tuneful spirit.

With best regards, you’ll believe me, my dear Miss Owenson,

Yours affectionately,
J. A.

PS. Did I send you my verses written at Donnington in 1802, at Lord Moira’s, which have just stole into print?