Transcriber’s Note:
The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.
Frances Power Cobbe.
1894. [Frontispiece.
LIFE OF Frances Power Cobbe
AS TOLD BY HERSELF
INTRODUCTION.
The story of the beautiful life which came to an end onthe 5th of April, 1904, is told by Miss Cobbe herself inthe following pages up to the close of 1898. Nothing isleft for another pen but to sketch in the events of the fewremaining years.
But first a word or two as to the origin of the book.One spring day in 1891 or ’92, when Miss Cobbe was walkingwith me through the Hengwrt grounds on my way tothe station, after some hours spent in listening to herbrilliant stories of men and things, I asked her if shewould not some day write her autobiography. She stoodstill, laughing, and shook her head. Nothing in her life,she said, was of sufficient importance to record, or forother people to read. Naturally I urged that what hadinterested me so greatly would interest others, and thather life told by herself could not fail to make a delightfulbook. She still laughed at the idea; and the next time Isaw her and repeated my suggestion, told me that she hadnot time for such an undertaking, and also that she did notthink her friend, Miss Lloyd, would like it. At last, however,to my great satisfaction, I heard that the friends hadtalked the matter over, and were busily engaged inlooking at old letters and records of past days, and bothbecoming interested in the retrospection. So the bookgrew slowly into an accomplished fact, and Miss Cobbeoften referred to it laughingly as “your” book, to which Ireplied that then I had not lived in vain! It is possiblevithat the idea had occurred to her before; but she alwaysgave me to understand that my persuasion had induced herto write the book. She came to enjoy writing it. Oncewhen I said:—“I want you to tell us everything; all yourlove-stories—and everything!” she took me up to herstudy and read me the passage she had written in the1st Chapter concerning such matters. The great success ofthe book was a real pleasure to both Miss Cobbe and herfriend. She told me that it brought her more profitthan any of her books. Most of them had merely a succèsd’estime. Better still, it brought her a number of kindlyletters from old and new friends, and from strangers infar off lands; and these proofs of the place she held inmany hearts was a true solace to a woman of tender affections,who had to bear more than the usual share of theabuse and misrepresentation which always fall to those whoenga