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Hotel Meurice 228, Rue de Rivoli, 228 Paris H. Scheurich Proprietaire
May 4th '83
Dear Jervy
Your very interesting letter of April 3rd reached me somewhere in Vienna, I presume, and---like yourself---I have made several ineffectual attempts to write you since its receipt, something always put it off. Since you wrote Edwina has received several very encouraging letters from Downing & she looks forward eagerly & hopefully to their meeting which I pray God may be a very happy one. I wrote Downing some week or ten days ago, from Frankfort, I think, and I hope the proposition I made him will suggest something he can put into shape. I have long wished to read Fanny Kemble’s writings, some of her early things I have. She is a remarkable woman, but I do not think
that I could ever muster sufficient courage to meet her, although her father (Charles Kemble) and mine were very good friends. I have heard father speak of him as a perfect type of the true gentleman. I shall stay here longer than I intended which will, I fear, prevent my going to Stratford & Leamington as I planned to do. I see my old friend Mr. Flower, the Mayor of Stratford and the founder of the 'Shakespeare Memorial' there is lately dead. I promised to dine with him when I next visited Stratford. When I was last there he was in Scotland. Now he is in Heaven; quite a distance 'twist the places. But I’m ungrateful: the Scotch treated me splendidly & I love em, spite of their
‘drizzle’ and ‘mist.’ I have just rec’d a dispatch from Irving asking me to meet H.R.H., Mr Lowell and the American Admiral (who is he?) at supper Monday night. Can’t go---sorry, but must remain here where I am not known & get some sort of rest, even in the whirl of crowded Paris. I know about six folks here & seldom see them. Edwina & I do our little shopping & trot about all day gaping into shop windows & yawn & read ‘till bedtime. Been twice only to theatre & dived out ditto. I am now at the life of Goethe, by Lewes; we visited his house at Frankfort on Shakespeare’s birthday & straightway bought the memoir & I am deeply interested, but reading does me little good. I remember nothing.
Your account of Launt is a sad disappointment. I had a letter from him, shortly before I received yours, which was so full of his words and his old self that I thought he had got out of the rut he has been in so long: poor boy! I expect to hear of his death or [madness?] at any time. I wish I could give you as long & as interesting letters as you give me---but the process of writing is very difficult for me & I become muddled doing it---unable to put what few ideas I may have into form; so take me as I am. Met the over Rev. [Tying?] Jr. today, he wants me to breakfast with him. Pas de tout. I know I had a dozen things to tell you but can’t remember them---they are gone. Edwa tells me you have sold some pictures & have been jolly: good for Jervis! Our loves to your parents, Aunt [Said?] & all the dear ones.
Ever yours
Edwin