What I Remember, Volume 2Trollope, Thomas Adolphus
History
What I Remember, Volume 2
Trollope, Thomas Adolphus
Authors, English -- 19th century -- Biography; Trollope, Thomas Adolphus, 1810-1892
The mention of Bishop Philpotts (though not by name) in the foregoing
letter, reminds me of a story which used to be told of him, and which
is too good to be lost, even though thus parenthetically told. When at
Torquay he used to frequent a small church, in which the service was
at that time performed by a very young curate of the extra gentle
butter-won't-melt-in-his-mouth kind, who had much objection to
the phrase in the Communion service, "eateth and drinketh his
own damnation," and ventured somewhat tremblingly to substitute
"condemnation" for the word which offended him. Whereupon the orthodox
Bishop reared his head, as he knelt with the rest of the congregation
and roared aloud "_Damnation!_" Whether the curate had to be carried
out fainting, I don't remember.
The next letter of Landor's that I have is dated 13th April, St.
James's Square, Bath. The postmark shows that it was written in 1838.
* * * * *
"MY DEAR SIR,--I have had Kenyon here these last four days. He tells
me that he saw Bezzi in London, and that we may entertain some hopes
that he will be induced to remain in England. All he wants is some
employment; and surely his powerful friends among the Whigs could
easily procure him it. But the Whigs of all scoundrelly factions, are,
and have ever been, the most scoundrelly, the most ungenerous, the
most ungrateful. What have they done for Fonblanque, who could have
kicked them overboard on his toe-nail? Their abilities put together
are less than a millionth of his; and his have been constantly and
most zealously exerted in their favour. My first conversation with
Kenyon was about the publication of his poems, which are just come
out. They are in part extremely clever; particularly one on happiness
and another on the shrine of the Virgin. He was obliged to print them
at his own expense; and his cousin, Miss Barrett, who also has written
a few poems of no small merit, could not find a publisher. These,
however, bear no proportion to Miss Garrow's.[1] Yet I doubt whether
publishers and the folks they consult would find out that.
[Footnote 1: To those who never knew Landor, and the habitual
limitless exaggeration of his manner of speaking, it may be necessary
to observe that he did not really hold any opinion so monstrous as
might be supposed from the passage in the text. And a letter given
by Mr. Forster expresses earnestly and vigorously enough his high
admiration for Miss Barrett's poetry. It must be remembered also, that
at the time this was written, Mr. Landor could only have seen some of
the earliest of Miss Barrett's writings.]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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