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20
Jan 30th '81
St. James's Hotel, Piccadilly.
My dear Jervy-
I don't know if I ought to write to you today. I'm in the mood for it, but my time is limited---having to dine out in the course of two hours, and though that should be sufficient for an ordinary letter---yet the knowledge of such a doom hanging over one prevents a concentration of one's thoughts. Your last was read and burned, according to your wishes, though why it should have been destroyed I failed to comprehend. Although as I said, I'm in the mood for writing you---yet I doubt if it is 'wholesome' to let myself out to you at such times, 'twould be far better if I could distract you with jolly gabble and newsy gossip, but pent up as I am within the "wings" & "foot-lights" of the play-house I can tell you nothing that the papers have not already stated. I think I did let
myself out a little in my last---to which I hope to have an answer soon. Yesterday I had a note from Lycester, who says he will come to town next week. He saw in some paper that a "Land League" was forming at Rondout and wonders "if McEntee---?" I s'pose no & should tell him so. I'm so [jolly?] green in all such matters that really I don't know what this land league business is all about. I only know that Englishmen seem to be in a sort of "[freeze?]" about something or other that's going on in [Erin?] . No, I've not met Conway---strange, too, that I have not. To be frank---I've rather avoided my countrymen here; most of them who travel are so talky, so spread-eagley; I am sure that they have done me no good by their extravagant praises. I feel perfectly sure, however, that I shall (if time to do it be allowed me) overcome the little prejudice that still exists against me. As to my overestimation of my success here---it
may appear ungrateful---but really it seems to me a sort of kindly tolerance of something they do not quite appreciate. Many, in society, rave idiotically; some solid heads nod approvingly; the critics pat me gently on the back, & the audiences seem quite as well disposed as I could wish---but in spite of the talk---pro & con---& the fact that I've been steadily acting here since the 1st week of November, the audiences are smaller in number that one would think a real success shd attract. Judging from the Boughton's attentions I presume I am all right, but the Smalley makes me doubt. his wife & daughters are sociable & kind, he is courteous but as you see, his letters to the Tribune almost ignore me---or give but a passing notice of my acting here. Some screw's loose there. It is very difficult to keep from repeating what I've already written you for I have so many correspondents
now that I forget what I've said to each. You must be indulgent this time---for the hours are getting thin & my wits are wobbling. Six weeks more & then for a long loaf of---perhaps---six months, before I try the provinces. It may be I shall not act again in London for a year---owing solely to my own stupidity in being tricked by a rascally manager, [Gooch?] I'm now in the midst of Othello & Iago---which the critics fail to recognize as good, & compare me with some flop-eared [illegible] here, but those who do not write pronounce perfectly satisfactory. One writer, who finds fault in print, says in private I am the greatest actor he ever saw, & several such asides have been made by those who dare not (for some reason) say as much aloud. The severe winter is gone & the warm damp weather is with us again. The former agreed better with Mary than the present atmosphere. In my next I hope to be more sensible & interesting. Our loves to you all. God bless you. Edwin