JWC-TC, [19 Dec.]. Addr: The Lord Ashburtons / The Grange / Alresford / Hants. PM: Alresford, 20 Dec. 1853. MS: NLS 605.386. Pbd: Froude, LM 2:236–37. “After her return, ‘Friedrich’ still going on in continual painful underground condition, the ‘ sound-proof’ operation
was set about, poor Charley [Chorley] zealously but ineffectually presiding; Irish labourers fetching and carrying, tearing
and rending, our house once more a mere dust-cloud and chaos come again. One Irish artist, I remember, had been ignorant that
lath and plaster was not a floor; he, from above, accordingly came plunging down into my bedroom, catching himself by the
arm-pits, fast swinging, astonished in the vortex of old laths, lime and dust! Perhaps it was him that Irish Fanny, some time
after, ran away into matrimony of a kind. Run or walk away she did, in the course of these dismal tumults, she too having
gradually forgotten old things; and was never more heard of here. We decided for Addiscombe, beautifullest cottage in the
world; the noble owners glad we would occupy a room or two of it in their absence. I liked it much, and kept busy reading,
writing, riding; she not so much, having none of these resources, no society at all, and except to put me right, no interest at all. I remember her coming and going; nay, I myself came and went. Off and on we stayed for several
weeks till the hurly-burly here was over or become tolerable. Miserable hurly-burly; the result of it, zero, and ‘Satan's
Invisible World Displayed’ (in the building trade, as never dreamt of before!). / For the Christmas month, we were at the
Grange, company brilliant, &c., &c.; but sad both of us, I by the evident sinking of my mother (though the accounts affected
always to show the hopeful side); she, among other griefs, by the eminently practical one of Ronca's ‘Demon Fowls,’ as we
now named them, and the totally futile issue of that ‘sound-proof room.’ ‘My dear,’ said she, one day to me, ‘let us do as
you have sometimes been saying, fairly rent that Ronca's house, turn Ronca with his vermin out of it, and let it stand empty—empty
and noiseless. What is 40l. or 45l. a year, to saving one's life and sanity? Neighbour Chalmers will help me; the owner people are willing; say you ‘yes,’ and
I will go at once and have the whole bedlam swept away against your return!’ I looked at her with admiration; with grateful
assent, ‘Yes, if you can’ (which I could only half believe). She is off accordingly, my saving champion (beautiful Dea ex machinâ), and on the day following, writes to me (T.C.):—” (Headnote in LM).
