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18
Decr 5th 1880
St James’s Hotel Piccadilly.
Dear Jervy –
‘Tis impossible to answer letters---yours of Nov 15th (one of my birthdays) is before me, but if I stop to detail it, line by line, I shall not get through half the correspondence that I have to accomplish this evening. [Stedman’s?] poem reached me, in print, before your copy came---but I shall keep your scrap. Poor, dear old Gifford! I lunched with Boughton tother day & he spoke very enthusiastically (I thought) of your portraits. They attract great attention & privately are highly spoken of, but the d-d press people here are an offish set. I have met a few, but not since I began work. I shall try to have the pictures put in
some Art gallery. The Boughtons (he, wife & sister– in-law) did not like my costume in Hamlet & consequently could see but little merit in the performance. I was too quiet & genteel---didn’t “belch” enough. In Richilieu my dresses are rich & I bellow much, ergo ---my Richilieu is great! The audiences of the glorious metropolis are very like those I have encountered in Milwaukee & Ypsilanti: polished plates. Somehow I have succeeded in [rousing?] them in Richilieu, but I cannot, for the life of me, realize that I am in great London town. ‘Tis likely the play will run ‘till the holidays. I am not hiding myself, Jervy, and I am
doing all I can to cultivate folks. Why, I even lunched at a Nob's house this very day & my [docter?] is spending the evening at Profr Huxley’s ---isn’t that making friends?
I am [illegible] for the Lycesters---I suspected as much when I was at their place; but their retrenchment means, I suppose, [lopping?] off some paltry thousands per year. He came up for my opening night, but has company at present & cannot call again. I doubt if my Hamlet pleased him.
I, too, miss our chats, Jervey; already I feel lost & would like to drop in on you occassionally. I seldom see [Clarke?] . Mary & Edwina are kept pretty well “on the go” & Boughton lives such a world away
that I haven’t time to visit him often. We are to dine with him next Sunday---or the next and with the [Millar’s?] and the Smalleys---et le Lord knows who else. His boozey old Ldship, Paget, called on me during the play last week & “wobbled” out something about ‘is ‘ighness a comin’ to ther play. Ear, hear & here are Yet, in English---remember when you come, the former pronunciation is Yankeeism. I’m writing a lot of twaddle ---can’t help it---am tired & dull and dyspeptic. If I even can I will write you a sensible letter. Maria, to Mary, says [illegible] is going home---from that I presume she will remain in Florence. He is silent. Smalley doesn’t letter me as he did Irving & Bernhardt. Why? Write often & don’t feel disaffected [illegible] my hurried scrawling. Love to you all.
Ever yours Edwin