She was not really 'little,' but
rather tall, with dark hair for a Forsyte, which, together with a grey
eye, gave her what was called 'a Celtic appearance.' She wrote songs
with titles like 'Breathing Sighs,' or 'Kiss me, Mother, ere I die,'
with a refrain like an anthem:
'Kiss me, Mother, ere I die;
Kiss me-kiss me, Mother, ah!
Kiss, ah! kiss me e-ere I--
Kiss me, Mother, ere I d-d-die!'
She wrote the words to them herself, and other poems. In lighter moments
she wrote waltzes, one of which, the 'Kensington Coil,' was almost
national to Kensington, having a sweet dip in it.
It was very original. Then there were her 'Songs for Little People,'
at once educational and witty, especially 'Gran'ma's Porgie,' and that
ditty, almost prophetically imbued with the coming Imperial spirit,
entitled 'Black Him In His Little Eye.'
Any publisher would take these, and reviews like 'High Living,' and
the 'Ladies' Genteel Guide' went into raptures over: 'Another of Miss
Francie Forsyte's spirited ditties, sparkling and pathetic. We ourselves
were moved to tears and laughter. Miss Forsyte should go far.'
With the true instinct of her breed, Francie had made a point of knowing
the right people--people who would write about her, and talk about her,
and people in Society, too--keeping a mental register of just where
to exert her fascinations, and an eye on that steady scale of rising
prices, which in her mind's eye represented the future.
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