Richmond, Tuesday, January 24th, 1865.
You will get this by General Smith. He goes up to rest,
leaving me to discharge his duties as well as my own as professor. I will not
underrate the laborious nature of the work, as I mean to make it the foundation
of a claim for furlough when he gets back!
I send you as the principal item, Thackeray's last novel, “Philip.”
Remember when you read it to return your thanks for it to Colonel Crutchfield.
I have read it with much satisfaction. As a story it is a mere framework,
hastily and inartistically run up, and scarce aims to excite much interest by
the events. It is a book of characters, and of characters by no means perfect.
In fact there is but one actor introduced (Mrs. Pendennis) who does not require
the veil of charity to conceal very considerable flaws. The staple of the book
is a merciless exhibition of the badness of human nature. D. and the preacher
Hunt are two of the most unmitigated evildoers on the records of fiction. Other
characters you will find in the book that are strong types of bad men, each in
his peculiar line, but the analysis will bring out from all the root evil of
supreme selfishness. The philosophy of his book is to make selfishness odious,
or at all events, in a cynical way, to show how prevalent it is. His female
characters are not quite as bad as his men, but they are hard cases indeed. I
have not time to individualize. But you will relish, I know, the picture of
true married love in Pendennis and his wife. It is so exquisite and so natural
and of course so true. And what art there is in the way in which he just opens
the gates of Eden for us as we stand outside, not permitting us to enter, and
not describing its beauties, but only allowing us to get a view along one vista
of the trees in the heavenly garden, to hear one song of the birds of Paradise,
to inhale the perfume wafted to the gate from the banks of ever blooming
flowers, and to see at a distance Adam and Eve in loving talk and quiet bliss!
And then the gates close upon our eager eyes, to be opened again when we do not
expect it, and to furnish some other scene, differing in features, but the same
in entrancing loveliness. I have hardly ever met with anything more charming
than this fragmentary vision of perfect wifehood. The author gives us different
colored bits of glory, and says to our imagination, “Put them together, and see
what they will make.”
Somebody has undertaken to restore the lost books of Livy,
by his profound and minute acquaintance with history: I think if we were
together, we know enough about the subject matter of Mrs. Pendennis' story, to
fill up the gaps in it! The story falls off decidedly at the end, and the
denouement is as manifest, commonplace, and clap-trap as ever a lazy man of
genius was guilty of. But take it altogether, it is so sharp and witty, and,
from its standpoint, so true, that I enjoyed it amazingly. How much better it
would have been if Phebe had read it aloud to us, so that we could have
exchanged criticisms! By the time I see you I will have forgotten all about it.
Indeed it would cost me some trouble to recall its particulars even now. But at
all events, I have had my talk with you about it.
Item second is a pair of rubber shoes. I don't think
Cinderella's foot can get into them, but they are the only pair I have been
able to find, and maybe they will answer. If they are too small, write me word;
you can give them away, or sell them. I gave $30. for them. Perhaps by further
search I may pick up another pair.
Also, a ream of paper for you, like this I am writing on. It
will try your eyes less than that you have been writing on. As it is much
better than what we get ordinarily, you had better send to Captain Polk and get
some of a larger size for the use of the household. . . .
Also, a piece of stuff for Phebe which Sister gave me at
Oakland; this is the first opportunity I have had to send it.
Also, one orange. Some lady gave this ostentatious piece of
blockade goods to Frank, and he (after eating another, I believe), brought this
to me two weeks ago. Of course I was not child enough to eat it, but saved it
for you all.
Also, a number of illustrated papers for G. and H. — Bless
their hearts — I wish I had something better to send them!
There now is my invoice. Very small, but it is my little
all, and represents more love than many a bride's trousseau, or rich man's
legacy. I wish I could have procured something for all the household, but it is
impossible. You have no idea how meagre all the shops look, and how absolutely
unesthetic in things great and small the metropolis is. Absolutely, there is
nothing grand about here but General Lee, and nothing beautiful but the music
at the Monumental Church. (Dinner Drum!)
Postscript item: Since dinner has come in another important
addition; this time for Johnny — a bridle! A regular army bridle, from the
Ordnance Department. I give this to him upon condition that he puts mine away,
and keeps it safe until I get back. Mind, he must not lose anything about it,
not even a bit! Poor pun, but like my presents, the best I can make in
these Confederate times.
And now good-bye to you all. I send no news, though there
are a great many rumors on the street today. You will see them all in the
papers before this reaches you.
Your Husband.
SOURCE: Elizabeth Preston Allan, The Life and
Letters of Margaret Junkin Preston, p. 204-7
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