I ought to have thanked you from Ventnor, instead of waiting till my return to town, for your kindness in sending me an early copy of the Quarterly, containing all that comfortable flattery respecting ‘The Dream.’ I assure you I felt almost ashamed at seeing my name “first on the list called over”; but very grateful for the indulgent spirit in which the article was written, and would be glad to know to which of your Slaves of the Lamp I stand indebted. I was conscious of the egoism of the volume when I saw, collected into that form, the many scattered occasional pieces, added to the principal poem. I hope to do better yet, and will carefully avoid any faults that have been pointed out.
As to V., you have of course been made aware that she is since engaged to be married, to Mr. C , a very handsome, agreeable, well-informed clergyman (as I hear).* Now as she is forty, nothing shall persuade me that the proposal and the marriage are not the result of the Review; all the single ladies noticed in that article should instantly think of changing their names, retaining merely the floral name allotted to them in the Quarterly. I half wish I could change mine (especially since Mrs. Erskine Norton has ingeniously taken to playing at being me to all the publishers), but I dare say I should not change it to my satisfaction at this time of day; though I want ten years of “V.” and “V.” is very little, and very lame, and has not (as I am credibly informed) nearly such a straight nose as I have.
Her poetry is wonderful; I hardly believed it was a woman’s at first.
If the author of the article knew Lady E. Wortley he
* The lady in question wrote to Mr. Lockhart: “Two things have happened to me in one day which I never dreamed of. My Poems have been reviewed in the Quarterly, and I have received a proposal of marriage.” |
| 418 | MEMOIRS OF JOHN MURRAY |
Not that I defend my lady’s high-flown language and “starry sublimities” at all times; but she is so gentle and earnest and real, that I felt a little unhappy when I read the review. Poisoned daggers are a joke to being laughed at in the Quarterly!
