The Letters of Edward Fitzgerald, Volume 2: 1851-1866 [Course Book ed.] 9781400854004

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THE LETTERS OF

EDWARD FITZGERALD VOLUME I I

1851-1866

The Letters of Edward FitzGerald Edited by

Alfred McKinley Terhune and Annabelle Burdick Terhune

VOLUME II 1851-1866

Princeton University Press Princeton, New Jersey

Copyright © 1980 by Princeton University Press Published by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey In the United Kingdom: Princeton University Press, Guildford, Surrey All Rights Reserved Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Data will be found on the last printed page of this book The calligraphy of the Persian for the letters was executed by Mohammed Mikail. This book has been composed in Linotype Caledonia Designed by Bruce D. Campbell Printed in the United States of America by Princeton University Press, Princeton, New Jersey

Contents

List of Illustrations

vii

Chart of Letters, 1851-1866

ix

Letters, 1851-1866 Index

3 619

List of Illustrations

(Following page 336) 1. 2. 3. 4. 5'.

William Makepeace Thackeray Alfred Tennyson Thomas Churchyard and his daughter Laura Samuel Laurence and his studio William Bodham Donne 6. Bernard Barton 7. E.FG.'s Kerrich nieces 8. William Kenworthy Browne 8b. Thomas Carlyle

Chart of Letters, 1851-1866

Date (1851)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

[Early Jan.]*

[Boulge]

W. B. Donne

Hannay, p. 42

Jan. 15

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl. Unpubl.

Jan.

Boulge

Allen to FitzGerald (Fragment) Allen

Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Trinity College

Unpubl.

Feb. 10

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb. 10]

[London]

[Feb. 13]

London

G. Crabbe of Merton Mrs. CoweII

[Feb. 14]

[Southampton]

Cowell

Extract in WAW,1,308 Extract omitted in WAW,1,309 WAW,1,311

[Feb. 17]

London

Mrs. John Charlesworth

Unpubl.

[Feb. 17]

[London]

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb. 21]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

Feb. 22

London

Allen

Unpubl.

[Feb. 24]

[London]

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb. 27]

London

[Feb. 28]

[London]

G. Crabbe of Merton Mrs. Cowell

In part in WAW,1,312 Unpubl.

[March 3]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[March 14]

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

March 24

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

April 9

Ipswich

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Jan.]

Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Transcript, Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

" Brackets around dates or places from which letters were written mean they have been supplied. Blanks under "Location" indicate the original letters have not been found and they have been taken from other sources.

Chart of Letters Date (1831)

From

To

First Publ.

May the something

Boulge

G. Crabbe of Merton

In part in WAW,1,313

May 27

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[June 2]

[Woodbridge]

W. B. Donne

Hannay, p. 37

June 3

Boulge

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

June 13

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

[June 23]

[Woodbridge]

W. B. Donne

[July 28]

[Woodbridge]

Aug. 11

Boulge

Charles Donne Spring Rice

Extract omitted in Hannay, p. 38 Hannay, p. 40

[Aug. 25] [Sept. 10]

Boulge [Woodbridge]

F. Tennyson Cowell

WAW,1,314 Unpubl.

[Sept. 27]

[Boulge]

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[Sept. 29]

Boulge

The Cowells

Unpubl.

[Oct. 25]

[Boulge]

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Nov. 7]

[Boulge]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[c. Nov. 20]

[Boulge]

Mrs. Cowell

Dec. 1

London

Mrs. Cowell

Cowell biography, p. 104 Unpubl.

[Dec. 5]

[London]

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Dec.] Dec. 24

[London] London

F. Tennyson Mrs. A. Tennyson

WAW,1,316 Unpubl.

Jan. 1

[London]

W. B. Donne

Hannay, p. 45

Feb. 6

Boulge

Hannay, p. 46

Feb. 12

Boulge

Charles Donne Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb. 27]

[Woodbridge]

[April 9]

[Boulge]

G. Crabbe of Merton Cowell

In part in WAW,1,319 WAW,II,5

April [13]

Boulge

Thackeray

Ray, Thackeray Letters, III, 29

Unpubl.

Location Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College

1852

x

Mary Barham Johnson Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Mrs. Dickinson

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

April 19

Boulge

Hannay, p. 47

June 2

Ham

June 7

Goldington

Charles Donne G. Crabbe of Merton Mrs. Cowell

June 8

Goldington

F. Tennyson

June 18

Goldington

June 26

Goldington

Sir Henry Rowley Bishop Mrs. Cowell

July 10

Boulge

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[July 21]

[Boulge]

The Cowells

Unpubl.

[July 24]

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Aug. 10

Boulge

W. B. Donne

[Aug. 12]

[Boulge]

Mrs. Cowell

In part in WAW,II,6 Unpubl.

[Aug. 14]

Male-Bolge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 3

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 11

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 14

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 20

Bury

WAW,II,7

Oct. 23/43 [1852] Oct. 27

Boulge

G. Crabbe of Merton Cowell

WAW,II,8

Nov. 5

Boulge

Thackeray to FitzGerald Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Nov. 9

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Nov. 10]

[Woodbridge]

W. B. Donne

Nov. 15

Boulge

Thackeray

[Nov.]

[Boulge]

Nov. 20

Boulge

W. B. Donne (Fragment) Mrs. Cowell

[Nov. 22]

[Boulge]

Allen

Donne and Friends, p. 187 Ray, Mrs. Dickinson Thackeray Letters, III, 114 Hannay, p. 48 Mary Barham Johnson Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Extract in Trinity WAW,II,8 College

xi

Extract in WAW,1,320 Unpubl. Extract omitted in WAW,II,1 Unpubl. Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Location Mary Barham Johnson Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. British Museum Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Mrs. Dickinson Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

Nov. 26

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

Dec. 24

Brighton

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

Dec. 29

Brighton

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

Jan. 24

Boulge

The Cowells

Unpubl.

[Feb.]

Cambridge

Unpubl.

Feb. 17

[Norfolk]

G. Crabbe of Bredfield The Cowells

April 4

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

WAW,11,10

April 15

Boulge

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

April 21

Boulge

Quaritch

April [28]-30

[Boulge]

Mrs. Cowell

Quaritch Letters, p. 1 Unpubl.

[May 4]

[Boulge]

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[May]

[Boulge]

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[May 30]

[Woodbridge]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[June]

London

Unpubl.

July 15

Boulge

Mrs. A. Tennyson Cowell

July 22

Boulge

July 22

Boulge

G. Crabbe of Merton Borrow

July 25

Boulge

Pollock

Aug. 3

Boulge

Borrow

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Boulge

Spring Rice

[Aug. 21]

Boulge

The Cowells

[Aug. 23]

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

[Aug. 23]

Boulge

F. Tennyson

Aug. 31

Boulge

Carlyle

In part in WAW,II,11 Knapp, Borrqvc, p. 333 Extract omitted Cambridge in WAW,II, 13 Univ. WAW,II,13 Trinity College Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Trinity College Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Trinity College

Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ.

1853

[Aug., week] Aug. 7

first

xii

Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ. Ipswich Lib Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1853)

From

To

First Publ.

Sept. 5

Boulge

Quaritch

Sept. 12

Boulge

[c. Sept. 12]

[Boulge]

G. Crabbe of Merton Mrs. Cowell

Quaritch Letters, p. 1 Extract in WAW,II,15 Unpubl.

Sept. 15

Boulge

[Sept. 21]

[Boulge]

Mrs. A. Tennyson Cowell

Unpubl.

[Sept. 23]

Boulge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

Sept. 25

[Boulge]

Unpubl.

[Sept. 27]

Boulge

Mrs. A. Tennyson Quaritch

[Sept., last week] Oct. 2

[Boulge]

Mrs. Cowell

Boulge

Quaritch

Oct. 2

Boulge

F. Tennyson

Oct. 7

Boulge

Quaritch

Oct. 7

Boulge

Cowell

[Oct.]

Boulge

Quariteh

Oct. 19

Richmond

Spring Rice

Quariteh Letters, p. 4 Unpubl.

[Oct. 22]

Richmond

F. Tennyson

Unpubl.

[Oct. 24]

Richmond

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Oct. 25

Richmond

CoweIl

Nov. 21

Geldestone

Cowell

In part in WAW,II,16 Unpubl.

[c. Dec. 1]

Geldestone

Cowell

Unpubl.

Dec. 27

Bredfield

F. Tennyson

WAW,II,17

Jan. 5

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

Jan. 24

Bredfield

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Jan., last week] Feb. 13

[Bredfield]

Cowell

Unpubl.

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Quaritch Letters, p. 2 Unpubl. Quaritch Letters, p. 3 Unpubl. Quariteh Letters, p. 4 Unpubl.

Location

Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

1854 Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1854)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

Feb. 16

London

Unpubl.

March 3

London

Mrs. Spring Rice Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[March 7]

London

[March]

[London]

Mrs. Edward Donne Pollock

Donne and Friends, p. 194 Unpubl.

March 15

Oxford

Pollock

[May 4]

Bath

Cowell

In part in WAW1II,19 Unpubl.

[May 7]

Bath

May 7

Bath

Mrs. A. Tennyson F. Tennyson

WAW,II,21

[c. May 12]

Bath

Cowell

Unpubl.

June 8

Isle of Wight

Cowell

Unpubl.

June 15

London

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

[c. June 19]

[London]

Unpubl.

[July]

Merton

Cowell (Fragment) Cowell

Unpubl.

[July]

Merton

Cowell

Unpubl.

Aug. 21

Boulge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Aug. 28

Boulge

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

Aug. 31

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

[c. Sept. 9]

[Bredfield]

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

[Mid-Sept.]

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

Sept. 17

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Sept. 18]

[Bredfield]

Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 2

London

Oct. 14

Bredfield

W. B. Donne to Unpubl. FitzGerald WAW,11,25 Carlyle

Oct. 18

Farlingay

Cowell

Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Syracuse Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

Nov. 28

Geldestone

Cowell

Dec. 17

Geldestone

Cowell

Cowell biography, p. 107 Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

Jan. 10

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

Feb. 9

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Mid-Feb.]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Late March]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Late March]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Early April]

[London]

Unpubl.

April 16

London

Cowell (Fragment) Cowell

Unpubl.

[April 21]

London

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

May 2

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[May]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

May 7

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

May 20

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

May 26

Bredfield

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

June 1

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

June 19

Bredfield

Cowell

Unpubl.

[c. July 23]

[London]

Unpubl.

July 30

[London]

Aug. 1

Bredfield

Cowell (Fragment) Mrs. A. Tennyson Carlyle

Aug. 5

Farlingay

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Aug. 5]

Bredfield

Carlyle

WAW,11,29

Aug. 7

London

WAW,II,31

Aug. 21

Farlingay

Carlyle to FitzGerald Spring Rice

[Aug.]

[Farlingay]

Pollock

Unpubl.

Aug. 23

Farlingay

Spedding

Unpubl.

Aug. 23

London

WAW,II,32

Aug. 26

Farlingay

Carlyle to FitzGerald Carlyle xv

Unpubl. WAW,II,28

Unpubl.

WAW,II,34

Location Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

Sept. 4

Farlingay

Cowell

Unpubl.

Sept. 14

Farlingay

Carlyle

WAW,II,37

Sept. 15

Croydon

WAW,II,38

Sept. 17

Bredfield

Carlyle to FitzGerald Spring Rice

Oct. 1

Geldestone

Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 7

Geldestone

Carlyle

Unpubl.

[c. Oct. 11]

Geldestone

Carlyle

Unpubl.

Oct. 15

Geldestone

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Nov. 5

Geldestone

Cowell

Unpubl.

[c. Dec. 22]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

New Year's Day London

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

[Jan. 2]

London

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Jan. 3

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[c. Jan. 4]

London

Unpubl.

Jan. 10

London

Mrs. A. Tennyson Cowell

[Jan. 12]

London

Cowell

[Jan.]

[London]

Cowell

[Jan.]

[London]

Cowell

[Jan.]

[London]

[Jan.]

[London]

Cowell (Fragment) Cowell

Unpubl.

[Jan. 28]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Jan. 31]

London

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[Feb. 8]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb.]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb.]

[London]

Cowell

WAW,II,45

Unpubl.

Location Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

1856

xvi

In part in WAW,II,40 Extract in WAW,II,40 In part in WAW,II,42 Unpubl. Unpubl.

Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1856)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

[Feb.]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb.]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Feb.]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Late Feb.]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[March]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[March]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[March]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[c. March 15]

London

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

[March]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[March]

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[March 25]

London

Cowell

Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

[April 4]

[London]

Cowell

[April 7]

London

Cowell

[April 11]

[London]

Cowell

[April 14]

[London]

Cowell

[April 21]

[London]

Cowell

April 24

London

Mrs. Cowell

[April 25]

London

Mrs. Cowell

[April 29]

[London]

Mrs. Cowell

[May 1]

London

Mrs. Cowell

[May 10]

[London]

Cowell

May 15

London

Cowell

June 5

London

Spring Rice

[June 6]

[London]

Mrs. Cowell

June 19

Brussels

G. Crabbe of Bredfield

Preface to Saldmdn and Absdl, VII, 189 Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. WAW,II,43 Trinity College In part in Trinity WAW,II,44 College Unpubl. Trinity College WA W,II,46 Trinity College Unpubl. Trinity College Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Lady Charnwood, Call Back Yesterday, p. 224

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ. Unpubl.

[July 15]

Bredfield

Mrs. Cowell (Fragment) A. Tennyson

[July, third week] July [28]

[Bredfield]

Cowell

Unpubl.

Bredfield

The Cowells

[c. Aug. 1] [Oct.]

[Bredfield] [Geldestone]

Anna Ling Allen

Cowell biography, p. 122 Unpubl. Unpubl.

Oct. 18

London

[Oct. 21]

Geldestone

Carlyle to FitzGerald Spring Rice

Carlyle New Letters, p. 172 Unpubl.

Oct. 27

London

Borrow

Nov. I I [Nov.]

Brighton [Woodbridge]

Anna Ling G. Crabbe of Merton (Fragment)

Knapp, Borrow, p. 334 Unpubl. Unpubl.

London

[c. June 21]

Unpubl.

Location Trinity College Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ.

Ipswich Lib. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Ipswich Lib. Trinity College

1857 Jan. 1

Jan. 22

London

G. Crabbe of Merton G. Crabbe of Merton Cowell

Jan. 23 [24] 25 [26] Feb. [?]-23

London

Cowell

London

Cowell

Donne and Friends, p 217 In part in WAW,II,51 In part in WAW,II,54 Unpubl.

Jan. 20

WAW,II,49

In part in WAW,II,62 In part in WAW,II,68 In part in WAW,II,70 Shorter, Borrow, p. 352 Catalogue clipping

Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. British Museum Trinity College

In part in WAW,II,76

Cambridge Univ.

[Late Feb.]March 4 March [4]-20

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

London

Cowell

[March 28]

London

March 29-Apr. 21 April 21

London

Mrs. Charles Cowell Cowell

In part in WAW,II,59 Unpubl.

London

Mrs. Cowell

May 7-[ June 19] London

Cowell

May 24

Goldington

Borrow

May 29

Goldington

June 23July 2

[Gorlestone and Geldestone] [Gorlestone]

G. Crabbe of Bredfield (Fragment) Cowell

[June 24]

Borrow xviii

Trinity College

WAW,II,78

Chart of Letters Date (1857)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

July 3-14

Geldestone

Cowell

Cambridge Univ.

July 6

Gorlestone

Borrow

[July 18]

Gorlestone

A. Tennyson

[Late July] Aug. 6, 8 Aug. 15

[Gorlestone] and Geldestone Geldestone

Cowell

In part in WAW,II,79 Knapp, Borrow, p. 335 Extract deleted in Tennyson and Friends, p. 110 Unpubl.

Aug. 22

Gorlestone

Sept. 19

' Goldington

Mrs. Charles Allen Cowell

WAW,11,81

WAW,II,84

Unpubl.

Oct. 3

Rushmere

G. Crabbe of Merton Cowell

Oct. 17 Nov. 8 Dec. 8

Goldington Brighton London

Anna Ling Anna Ling Cowell

In part in WAW,II,85 Unpubl. Unpubl. WAW,II,87

Dec. 23

[London]

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Jan. 15]

London

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Feb. 3

London

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[Feb. 11]

London

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Feb. 20 Feb. 23

London [London]

Unpubl. Unpubl.

Feb. 24

London

Anna Ling Mrs. Cowell (Fragment) Anna Ling

March 19

London

Unpubl.

[Spring]

London

May 1

London

Mrs. A. Tennyson G. Crabbe of Merton Cowell

May 26

London

Unpubl.

Sept. 3

[Merton]

G. Crabbe of Merton Cowell

Oct. 10

Geldestone

[Oct]

Lowestoft

Mrs. A. Tennyson Borrow

Nov. 2

Farlingay

Cowell

Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Ipswich Lib. Ipswich Lib. Trinity College Cambridge Univ.

1858

Unpubl.

Unpubl. Unpubl.

In part in WAW,II,91 Unpubl. Shorter Borrow, p. 359 Extract in WAW,11,94

Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Ipswich Lib. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1859)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

Jan. 12

London

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Jan. 13

London

Cowell

[Jan. 15]

London

Spring Rice

In part in WAW,II,95 Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ.

March 20

Goldington

March 26

Goldington

William Monkhouse to FitzGerald W. B. Donne

March 29

Norwich

G. Crabbe

March 31

Geldestone

Quaritch

April 1

Geldestone

Quaritch

April 5

Geldestone

Quaritch

April 5

Geldestone

A. Tennyson

Quaritch Letters, p. 5 Quaritch Letters, p. 5 Quaritch Letters, p. 6 Unpubl.

April 13

Geldestone

G. Crabbe

WAW,II,98

April 27

Geldestone

Cowell

June 20

Geldestone

Carlyle

Extracts omitted in WAW,11,99 WAW1II,101

Oct. 4 [5]

Lowestoft

G. Crabbe

Oct. 10

Lowestoft

Borrow

[Oct. 13]

Lowestoft

G. Crabbe

In part in WAW,II,103 Shorter, Borrow, p. 359 Unpubl.

Oct. 15

Lowestoft

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

Oct. 16

Lowestoft

WAW,II,105

Oct. [24]

Lowestoft

Mrs. Charles Allen Spring Rice

Oct. 26

Lowestoft

Nov. 24

Lowestoft

Nov. 27

Lowestoft

Mrs. Charles Allen Mrs. A. Tennyson Thompson

Dec. 2

Lowestoft

Thompson

In part in WAW,II,108 Unpubl.

Dec. 18

Lowestoft

John Loder

Unpubl.

Dec. 24

Lowestoft

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Unpubl. In part in WAW,II,97 Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Mary Barham Johnson Trinity College

Tennyson Estate Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

WAW,II,106 Unpubl.

Tennyson Estate Trinity College Trinity College Miss Violet Loder Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (I860)

From

To

First Publ.

[Jan.]

[Lowestoft]

East Anglian

Feb. 23

Lowestoft

Pollock

March 2

Lowestoft

Spring Rice

East Anglian, 1,63 Bit omitted in WAW,II,110 Unpubl.

March 5

Lowestoft

W. B. Donne

Hannay, p. 51

[April]

[Lowestoft]

East Anglian

[April]

[Lowestoft]

East Anglian

April 13

Lowestoft

Spring Rice

East Anglian, 1,71 East Anglian, 1,76 Unpubl.

June 2

Farlingay

WAW,II,112

July 5

Farlingay

Mrs. Charles Allen A. Tennyson

July 12

Farlingay

Unpubl.

[Aug. 18]

[Farlingay]

Mrs. A. Tennyson Notes and Queries

[Aug. 18]

[Farlingay]

Notes and Queries

[Aug. 18]

[Farlingay]

Notes and Queries

[Aug. 18]

[Farlingay]

Notes and Queries

Aug. 21

Farlingay

Mrs. Cowell

Sept. 5

Farlingay

Sept. 9

Farlingay

[Sept. 22]

[Farlingay]

Mrs. A. Tennyson Mrs. Charles Allen Notes and Queries

Oct. 1 Nov. 2

Farlingay Farlingay

Anna Ling Crowfoot

Notes and Queries, Second series, X,227 Unpubl. Unpubl.

Nov. 12

Farlingay

Cowell

Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Notes and Queries, Second series, X,123 Notes and Queries, Second series, X,126 Notes and Queries, Second series, X.137 Notes and Queries, Second series, X,139 Unpubl. Unpubl.

Location

Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson

Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Tennyson Estate

Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate

WAW,II,116

Ipswich Lib. Trinity College Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1860)

From

[Dec. 8]

To

First Publ.

Location

Notes and Qtieries

Notes and Queries, Second series, X,447 Excerpt in WAWjIIjIie

Trinity College

Markethill

Crabbe

Jan. 3

Markethill

Pollock

Unpubl.

Sunday, Jan. [Jan. 26]

Markethill

Unpubl.

[Farlingay]

Caroline Crabbe Notes and Queries

Jan. 27

Farlingay

A. Tennyson

Notes and Queries, Second series, XI,63 Unpubl.

Jan. 27

Farlingay

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[Feb. 9]

[Woodbridge]

Notes and Queries

[Feb. 16]

[Woodbridge]

Notes and Queries

Feb. 17

Markethill

Feb. 28

Markethill

Mowbray Donne W. B. Donne

Notes and Queries, Second series, XI,107 Notes and Queries, Second series, XI,125 Hannay, p. 53

April 9

Markethill

W. B. Donne

April 15

Markethill

Hannay, p. 57

April 20

FarIingay

Mowbray Donne Spring Rice

April 25

Farlingay

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[May 11]

[Woodbridge]

Notes and Queries

[May 11]

[Woodbridge]

Notes and Queries

Whit Monday [May 20]

Markethill

Crabbe

Notes and Queries, Second series, XI,372 Notes and Queries, Second series, XI,377 In part in WAW,II,119

Dec. 28

1861

Donne and Friends, p. 251 Hannay, p. 56

Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ. Trinity College

Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ.

Mary Barham Johnson Mary Barham Τηηηςηη Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

vlay 22

Markethill

Cowell

May 25]

[Woodbridge]

Notes and. Queries

fune 4

Markethill

Crabbe

fune 6

Markethill

A. Tennyson

In part in WAW,II,120 Notes and Queries, Second series, XI,415 In part in WAW,II, 122 Unpubl.

July]

[Woodbridge]

East Anglian

July]

[Woodbridge]

East Anglian

[uly 3

Markethill

Trench

[uly 15

Markethill

Thompson

Sept. 15

Geldestone

Donne

Sept. 25

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Oct. 10

Woodbridge

Unpubl.

Nov. 20

Markethill

Mrs. Charles Cowell Pollock

Nov. 20

Markethill

A. Tennyson

Dec. 5

Markethill

Carlyle

Excerpt in Tennyson and Friends, p. 108 WAW,II,131

Dec. 7

Markethill

Cowell

Dec. 9

Markethill

Dec. 12

Markethill

Thompson (Fragment) Spring Rice

In part in WAW,II,132 Bit omitted in WAW,II,134 Unpubl.

Dec. 18

Markethill

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

fan. 5

Geldestone

Spalding

Jan. 16

Markethill

Pollock

In part in Two Suffolk Friends, p. 98 WAW,II, 136

Jan. 31

Markethill

Crabbe

[Feb.]

[Woodbridge]

Mrs. A. Tennyson

East Anglian, 1,139 East Anglian, 1,141 P.S. omitted in WAW,II,124 In part in WAW,II,125 Donne and Friends, p. 257 WAW,II, 127

WAW,II, 129

Location Trinity College

Trinity College Tennyson Estate

Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

1862

xxiii

In part in WAW,II, 137 Tennyson Memoir, 1,515

Morgan Lib. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

Monday [March 10] March 19

Markethill

Crabbe

Markethill

Thompson

March 30

Markethill

Trinity College Trinity College R. H. Taylor

April 12

Markethill

Mrs. W. K. Browne Crowfoot

In part in WAW,II,141 In part in WAW,II, 142 Unpubl. Unpubl.

April 18

Markethill

Thursday April [24?] Thursday [April 24] May 5

Transcript, Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Boston Public Lib. Mary Barham Johnson Trinity College

Geldestone

Crabbe (Fragment) Crabbe

WAW,II, 145

[Geldestone]

Spalding

Unpubl.

Markethill

Donne

Hannay, p. 59

May 17

Markethill

Crabbe

Unpubl.

June 2

Markethill

Unpubl.

June 23

Markethill

Mrs. W. K. Browne (Fragment) A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

June 23

Markethill

Carlyle

Unpubl.

June 29

Markethill

Carlyle

WAW,II, 146

July 5

Markethill

Unpubl.

July 16

Woodbridge

Mrs. A. Tennyson Crabbe

Unpubl.

July 23

Markethill

Cowell

Unpubl.

July 24

Markethill

Milnes

Unpubl.

Sept. 12

Woodbridge

Unpubl.

Sept. 14 Sept. 15

Markethill Markethill

Louisa Stannard Wm. Ling Spring Rice

Unpubl. Unpubl.

Sept. 18

Markethill

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

[Sept. 23]

[Markethill]

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Sept. 29

Markethill

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Sept. 29

Markethill

Thompson

WAW,II,147

Oct.

Markethill

Spalding

Unpubl.

Nov. 9

Markethill

Crabbe

Unpubl.

xxiv

WAW,II, 144

Location

Tennyson Estate Trinity College Trinity College Tennyson Estate Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Ipswich Lib. Ipswich Lib. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Boston Public Lib. Trinity College

Chart of Letters late (1862)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

Jov. 19

Markethill

Crabbe

Unpubl.

Jov. 19

Markethill

Donne

Hannay, p. 61

Jov. 20

Markethill

Donne

Hannay, p. 63

Trinity College Mary Barham Johnson Mary Barham Johnson

Jov. 28 Nov.]

Markethill [Markethill]

)ec. 1

Markethill

Donne Thompson (Fragment) Cowell

WAW,II,149 In part in WAW,II,150 Unpubl.

)ec. 2

Markethill

Donne

Hannay, p. 65

)ec. 3

Markethill

Doime

Hannay, p. 68

)ec. 14

Markethill

A. Tennyson

Dec. 20]

[Woodbridge]

Crabbe

Dec. 22]

[Woodbridge]

Spring Rice

In part, Tennyson and Friends, p. 108 In part, Tennyson Memoir,1,488 Extract in WAW,II,151 Unpubl.

5ec. 29

Markethill

Donne

Hannay, p. 69

an. 23

Woodbridge

Anna Crabbe

Unpubl.

ilarch 3

Markethill

Crabbe

Unpubl.

4arch 4

[Woodbridge]

E. G. Doughty

Unpubl.

Jood Friday April 3] lpril [15] 0 p.m. »lay 2

[Woodbridge]

Thompson

WA W,II,152

Markethill

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Unpubl.

Aay 22

Woodbridge

Donne

une 8

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Thursday June 25] >at., July 18

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Donne and Friends, p. 263 Extract in WAW,II,155 Unpubl.

Markethill

Donne

Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson Mary Barham Johnson Tennyson Estate

Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson

863

XXV

In part in WA W,II,156

Syracuse Univ. Trinity College Mrs. Blanch Doughty (In scrapbook of E. G. Doughty) Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

July 19

Woodbridge

Crabbe

WAW,II,157

Thursday [July 23] July 27

Markethill

H. Biddell

WAW,11,158

Markethill

Spring Rice

Unpubl.

Aug. 4

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Aug. 5

Markethill

Cowell

In part in WAW,II, 160 In part in WAW,II,163

Aug. 16

Woodbridge

Crabbe

[Aug. 25]

[Woodbridge]

Aug. 25

Woodbridge

Crabbe (Fragment) Donne

Oct. 4

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Oct. 4

Markethill

Donne

Oct. 15

Markethill

Spring Rice

In part in WAW,II,169 In part in Donne and Friends, p. 264 Unpubl.

Nov. 1

Markethill

A. Tennyson

Unpubl.

Dec. 2

Markethill

H. Biddell

Unpubl.

Jan. 1

Markethill

Unpubl.

Jan. 3

Markethill

Anne Thackeray Donne

Jan. 7 Jan. 12

Markethill Markethill

Laurence Crabbe

Saturday [Jan. 15] Jan. 23

Markethill

Spalding

Markethill

Thompson

Jan. 23

Markethill

Crabbe

Jan. 31

Markethill

Cowell

Extract in WAW,II, 172 In part in WAW,II,173 WAW,II,175

Feb. 7

Markethill

Pollock

Unpubl.

Bits deleted in WAW,II, 167 Unpubl. Donne and Friends, p. 265 Unpubl.

Location Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Long unpublished P.S. at Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College

Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate

1864

xxvi

Hannay, p. 70 WAW,II, 171 Extract in WAW,II, 172 Unpubl.

Mrs. Belinda Norman-Butler Mary Barham Johnson Trinity College F. L. Pleadwell Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

Feb. 8 Feb. 29

Markethill Markethill

Spring Rice M. Donne

Unpubl. Hannay, p. 72

March 20

Woodbridge

Crabbe

April 23

Woodbridge

Crabbe

In part in WAW,II, 178 Unpubl.

April 23 April 24

Markethill Markethill

April 27 May 25

Markethill Woodbridge

Laurence Mrs. A. Tennyson Laurence Cowell

June 2

Woodbridge

Spring Rice

WAW,II,181 Cowell biography, p. 198 Unpubl.

June 5

Geldestone

Crabbe

Unpubl.

June 7

Geldestone

Unpubl.

June 23

Markethill

Anne Thackeray Spring Rice

July 17

Markethill

July 31

Woodbridge

Donne (Fragment) Crabbe

Aug. 14

Woodbridge

Crabbe

Donne and Friends, p. 285 Extract in WAW,II,182 Unpubl.

Aug. 31

Markethill

Cowell

Oct. 5

Markethill

Cowell

In part in WAW,II, 182 Unpubl.

Oct. 8

Markethill

Allen

WAW,II, 184

Nov. 11

Markethill

Cowell

WAW,II,186

Nov. 19

Markethill

Cowell

Dec. 4

Markethill

A. Tennyson

Dec. 4

Markethill

Crowfoot (Fragment)

Cowell biography, p. 200 In part in Tennyson and Friends, p. 125 Unpubl.

Dec. 7

Markethill

Cowell

Dec.—what? but 64

Markethill

Pollock xxvii

WAW,II, 180 Unpubl.

Unpubl.

Bit deleted in Cowell biography, p. 200 WAW,II, 188

Location R. H. Taylor Mary Barham Johnson Trinity College Trinity College Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Mrs. Belinda Norman-Butler Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Transcript, Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

[Jan.]

[Woodbridge]

Crabbe

Unpubl.

[Jan.]

[Woodbridge]

Unpubl.

[Jan.]

[Woodbridge]

Cowell (Fragment) Donne

Feb. 15

Woodbridge

Feb. 23

Markethill

Mrs. W. K. Browne (Fragment) Cowell

Feb. 25

Markethill

Trench

Cowell biography, p. 204 WAW,II,190

[March]

[Woodbridge]

Crabbe

Unpubl.

March 23

Markethill

Cowell

Unpubl.

March 25

Woodbridge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

April 3

Markethill

Cowell

Unpubl.

April 3

Markethill

Crowfoot (Fragment)

WAW,II,191

Friday: April 7? April 10

Markethill

Cowell

Unpubl.

Markethill

Allen

WAW,II, 192

Thursday [April 13] May 2

Woodbridge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

Markethill

Allen

Unpubl.

May 2

Woodbridge

Mrs. Cowell

Unpubl.

May 10

Markethill

Cowell

Unpubl.

May 14

Markethill

Anne Thackeray

Unpubl.

[May]

[Woodbridge]

Mrs. Cowell

WAW,II,194

July 9

Lowestoft

Spalding

Unpubl.

July 11

Lowestoft

T. Wright, 11,56

July 17

Lowestoft

Mrs. W. K. Browne (Fragment) Spalding

Aug. 25

Ramsgate

Aug. 27

Ramsgate

Spalding (Fragment) Donne xxviii

Hannay, p. 75 T. Wright, 11,55,57

Extract in Two Suffolk Friends,-p. 99 Two Suffolk Friends, p. 100 WAW,II, 195

Location Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Mary Barham Johnson

Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Transcript, Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Typescript, Mrs. Belinda Norman-Butler Trinity College Cambridge Univ.

Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1852)

From

To

First Publ.

Sept. 5

Markethill

Cowell

WAW,11,197

Sept. 20

Lowestoft

Spalding

Unpubl. Unpubl.

Oct. 21

Markethill

Cowell (Fragment) Cowell

Oct. 22

Markethill

Mrs. A. Tennyson

Nov. 1

Markethill

Allen

P.S. only in Tennyson and Friends, p. 123 WAW,II, 199

Nov. 2

Markethill

Carlyle

Unpubl.

Nov. 10

Woodbridge

Cowell

Unpubl.

Dec. 3

[Woodbridge]

Allen

WAW,11,201

[c. Dec. 18]

[Woodbridge]

Cowell

Unpubl.

Christmas Day Dec. 26

Woodbridge Woodbridge

H. Biddell Cowell

WAW,11,202 Unpubl.

Jan. 26

Markethill

Quaritch

Feb. 1

Woodbridge

Cowell

Letters to Quaritch, p. 6 Unpubl.

Feb. 10

Markethill

Quaritch

March 1

Markethill

J. Fletcher

March 15

Woodbridge

Thompson

March 19

Markethill

Allen

March 20

Markethill

Cowell

[March]

Markethill

Thompson

March 28

Lowestoft

April 2

Lowestoft

April 3

Lowestoft

Spalding (Fragment) Spalding (Fragment) Spalding

[Sept.]

Unpubl.

Location Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Trinity College Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Trinity College Cambridge Univ. Yale Univ. Cambridge Univ.

1866

xxix

Letters to Quaritch, p. 7 FitzGerala and Posh, p. 36 In part in WAW,II,203 WAW,II,205 Cowell biography, p. 212 In part in WAW,11,207 Two Suffolk Friends, p. 100 Two Suffolk Friends, p. 101 Extract in Two Suffolk Friends, p. 101

Cambridge Univ. Univ. of Texas Trinity College Trinity College

Trinity College

Yale Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1866)

From

Location

To

First Publ.

Cambridge Unpubl. Univ. Univ. of FitzGerdd and Posh, p. 40 Texas Syracuse Unpubl. Univ. In part in Trinity WAW,11,209 College Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. In part in Trinity WAW,II,208 College In part in Syracuse Two Suffolk Univ. Friends, p. 101 WAW,II,211 Trinity College Unpubl. Cambridge Univ. Unpubl. Boston Public Lib. WAW,II,214 Trinity College Unpubl. British Museum WAW,II,215 Trinity College WAW,II,217 Trinity College

Tuesday [April 10] Saturday [May] [May 22]

Lowestoft

Spalding

Markethill

"Posh"

Friday [May 25] June 8

Woodbridge

Cowell

Woodbridge

Cowell

[June]

[Woodbridge]

Thompson

Friday [June 29]

Cowes

Spalding

July 27

Lowestoft

Thompson

Saturday [Aug. 4] Friday [Aug. 10] Aug. 13

Lowestoft

Spalding

Woodbridge

Cowell

Wednesday [Aug. 15] Aug. 19

Lowestoft

Spalding

Lowestoft

Cowell

Sept. 4

Lowestoft

Cowell

Sept 17

Lowestoft

Quaritch

Sept. 18

Lowestoft

Quaritch

Sept. 19

Scandal

Spalding

G. Moor

Felixstow Ferry Spalding

Sept. 24

Lowestoft

Quaritch

[Sept.]

Markethill

Quaritch

[Sept]

[Woodbridge]

Sept. 30

Lowestoft

Posh (Fragment) Donne

Oct. 7

Lowestoft

Spalding

Letters to Quaritch, p. 7 Letters to Quaritch, p. 8

In part in Two Suffolk Friends, p. 103 Letters to Quaritch, p. 9 Letters to Quaritch, p. 9 FitzGerald and Posh, p. 47

Hannay, p. 78 In part in Two Suffolk Friends, p. 105

Oct 9

Lowestoft

Cowell

Unpubl.

[Oct.]

[Lowestoft]

Cowell

Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ.

F. L. Pleadwell Mary Barham Johnson Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ.

Chart of Letters Date (1866)

From

To

First Publ.

Location

Nov. 1

MarkethilI

Blakesley

Unpubl.

[Nov. 5]

Markethill

Pollock

WAW,II,220

Nov. 14

Markethill

Pollock

WAW,II,222

[Nov.]

[Woodbridge]

Pollock

WAW,II,224

Wednesday [Nov. 28] Dec. 2

Lowestoft

Spalding

Unpubl.

Lowestoft

Groome

Dec. 4

Lowestoft

Spalding

[Dec.]

Markethill

Dec. 14

Woodbridge

[Dec.]

Markethill

Mrs. A. Tennyson Mrs. A. Tennyson Marietta Nursey

Two Suffolk Friends, p. 72 In part in Two Suffolk Friends, p. 107 Unpubl.

Mrs. C. G. ChenevixTrench Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Cambridge Univ. Yale Univ.

Unpubl. Unpubl.

Cambridge Univ. Tennyson Estate Tennyson Estate Cambridge Univ.

THE LETTERS OF

EDWARD FITZGERALD VOLUME II

1851-1866

To W. Β. Donne [Boulge Cottage] [Early January, 1851 ] My dear Donne, I was not surprised at your kind and partial letter—for I have long known your feeling toward me. I have so often said that you over­ estimate my talents, and under-rate your own, that it only looks like scratching for a return to say so again. And yet this is very clear to myself, and others. I have what Goethe calls the "Barber's talent" of easy narrative of easy things—can tell of Barton, and Chesterton Inn,1 but not of Atreus, and the Alps. Nor do I pretend to do so. You have a far stronger head—a better Understanding—more active Humour— and a Memory that supplies your Understanding with unfailing stuff to grind. I have come to a time of life, or perhaps (as I hope) a time of philosophy, which enables me to see these things pretty clearly, undimmed by much Ambition or (I fondly hope again) Vanity. And what I say of us both I say with at least as much Sincerity as I am capable of saying anything. The little Book is no sudden push at Authordom: it was written some years ago: but with-held because Puseyism and Catholicism were ascendant, and I would not help even by a f 1 to fill their sails. When they got into disgrace here by the Pope's late advance, I brushed up my Dialogue—and printed it. Except a letter to the Ipswich Journal, or a few words of Preface to some Book of Extracts, I do really not meddle with Print—and, I believe, never shall. For it really is more labour to me to put anything together than you who write so much can imagine. And I know that others will do and can do much better with pleasure, ease, and profit to themselves. Enough of this. As I believe you honestly like much of my Book, and think it may be useful, I shall be undoubtedly glad to have you say so in print—so as I may stick "a plum of praise" in an advertisement. For certainly if I do not want, or expect to gain much, I also do not want to lose; and at least I hope I shall do no harm. If you cannot give me a whole Review, you can give me a glance in a Review on some one else, may be. All this I leave to your discretion and opportunities. Only do not bore yourself in my small service. Pickering publishes—and I suppose the Book will be to be had at his Shop in a Week. I leave it to Childs and him to fix a price—2s2

January 1851 ought to be the utmost. It is to be done up in plain green cloth: which is all ready, I believe, waiting only the title-page to be made up at once. Tell Charles31 had his pleasant letter this morning. If he comes over to Jackson's4 while I am here, he must also come over here and smoke a pipe with old Crabbe. But this place is not lovely in this weather: and I live the life of a Polar Bear in it. Ah those Cowells! going away for ever, it seems to me! I delight in what you say of them—yet with a remorseful delight. Did I tell you about my visit to Merivale's? He wanted much to know about you, and why you did not go to see him. Thompson was ill of a cold. Madame was, I presume, enceinte. She seemed an unaf­ fected, sensible, woman—but I had just left Bramford! Burn this. Ever your, E.FG. 1

Near Cambridge, the setting of part of the dialogue of Euphranor. price was 2s 6d. 3 Donne's eldest son. 4 Stephen Jackson, editor of the Ipstoich Journal. 2 The

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge Janrv 15/51 My dear Mrs. Cowell, I have for the last two days been looking at your poem inclosed.1 I like it, and have ever liked it, so much, that I want to see it better than it is. Which is chiefly to be done by cutting out, as I think. It wanders. When you are idle, compare what I send with the original. I am sure the compression is right: I am not sure about the alterations; which are very hasty and unconsidered. Nor indeed should I send them with­ out further pains bestowed on them. But I go away tomorrow to London—60 Lincoln's Inn Fields2—and you may be going to Oxford! I cannot read this poem without such deep feeling as I have; and I cannot but send it off as I send it now—when you are departing for­ ever from the home it tells of! Ah me! You say you will return one day. If you be in London the next fort­ night let me see you, or hear of you at least. Cowell knows Spedding's rooms.

January 1851 He spoke of republishing some of your poems—which I heartily desire he may. But call me into Council about them. I am no Poet, but a good Critic. And it is odd enough the only good stanza I ever wrote was recalled to me by a passage in this poem of yours. One day (when!) I will repeat it to you. Farewell Cowells—Farewell Bramford! E.FG. 1 Mrs. Cowell was an avid writer of verses, which were published locally. She often asked EFG's aid in revision. 2 Spedding's lodgings.

From John Alien1 (Fragment) [January, 1851 ] . . . the money for which I am trustee without consulting my eldest brother. It seems to me that it ought to be invested in the Funds, and that till she comes in to the property the interest thereof ought as well to be invested in the . . . . I think your petition very simply expressed, clear and forcible, but I do not agree with you in thinking the Liturgy needs alteration. I do not mean that if I were going to draw up a Liturgy or to have the sole power of remodelling what we have that there are not sentences which I probably should alter [(1)] but I believe that every sentence honestly admits of a safe and sound interpretation! and I am sure that if six neighbouring Clergymen were to be asked pen in hand to mark down what alterations they would suggest, that none of them would agree. You recollect the story told of Lord Burleigh in reference to this matter. (2) If you propose to open the door for alterations, what will you get but interminable disputes and confusion? We agree to the Liturgy as it is, we should none of us agree to it as our neighbour tinkered it. We do not of course hold it as inspired—but many of us honestly hold it to be as perfect as human wisdom is likely to make it. (3!) And I for one should protest with all my heart against any such proposal for change. Substantially I hope that there is more agreement among the great body of English clergymen than bystanders give us credit for. Ever affectionately yours JA-

January 1851 1 This fragment is Allen's response after receiving a copy of EFG's "Petition to Lord John Russell." (See p. 692.) EFG added the exclamationi marks, numerals, and underscoring and returned the manuscript with the letter which follows the fragment. Allen took up the subject of the petition at the bottom of page two of his letter. The top portion of the first sheet has been cut off. The opening lines of the fragment, taken from the portion of page one that remains, deal with financial problems pertaining to Andalusia's share of the FitzGerald estate. Allen and EFG were trustees for Lusia.

To John Allen Boulge, Woodbridge Jan", [1851] My dear Allen, "Sero sed serio"1—I am really about to move: to London first, where I shall be some little while, what with business, and a visit to my Mother may be. There was a meeting about a Dividend; but I cannot hear that one was declared: at any rate, no final one can yet be de­ clared, inasmuch as the Colliery remains undisposed of. A dividend however of some amount must soon be tangible, and we Trustees ought to be agreed how to dispose of our share of it. You speak of finding Capital and Interest for Lusia: Wilkinson seemed to think only the Capital, making use of the yearly interest for her Benefit. Yours is doubtless the better plan for her eventually: we must decide on which is the regular and legal one. I will write you from London when I am ready to proceed to Shrop­ shire: and ask you for exact directions as to Coaches, etc. Indeed I should not write now, but to answer parts of your letter, which I wish you would reconsider, though you doubtless will not. I send it to you, with some passages marked, and which I will now refer to. (1) What! the communication of the Holy Ghost in Ordination! the form of Absolution in the Visitation of the Sick—nay, of the rubrical law which confines the utterance of the Absolution in the form of Daily Prayer to the Priest! One of the worst things in all this matter is that really honest and able men like yourself, feel obliged to explain away the plain and literal understanding of such passages in quite as un­ natural a way as the Jesuitical party of the Church have explained away what militates against their views. If such passages are taken literally they are of Rome, and lead to Rome direct; if explained away, they still, alas!, are of Rome, and still lead to it by another road, fixing

January 1851 a character of insincerity on those who thus explain them. Besides, by persisting in leaving them there, you do leave the direct road to Rome open, as well as instructing a bye-path of your own; for it is by such passages that Newman, Pusey, Dodsworth, and Bishop of London,2 have authorized doctrines which, as we have proved by the experience of fifteen years, have led multitudes to Rome. ( 2 ) O f course, alterations a r e difficult a n d dangerous; b u t h a s n o t the thing without alteration been dangerous enough? Are not any schismatic disputes better than the high road to Popery? ( 3 ) If w h a t is s a i d b e f o r e b e t r u e , w h a t becomes of t h e perfect human Wisdom of the Liturgy? O John Allen, you tell me not to ad­ dress you as Archdeacon; but if I had not known that you always had the deepest Reverence, (on Religious, not on interested, grounds) for the Powers and Systems that be, I should have said that your shovel hat had partly overlaid and extinguished the Understanding and the Conscience within. I always say there is no man honest in his own calling: no man who does not let the "esprit de corps" and conventional conscience of his Cloth modify and pervert the free Divine Intuition within him. I think you are scarce exempt from my general proposition —woe is me that it is so!—though I most sincerely say that it is not a Shovel hat, and keeping bad company with Bishops, has done it, but your innate and old true Reverence for your Fathers cloth! So much divinely good is mixt up with what I think is poor and vulgar error— mischievous error, if so much of the evils we complain of in the shape of perversions to Rome, and the Pope's inroad here, be ascribable (as no one seems to deny) to practices which are directly, and justly, founded on the words of a Liturgy you consider as perfect as Human wisdom can make it! Even granting that, as you say, "every sentence honestly admits of a safe and sound interpretation", yet if it also be so easy to put an unsafe and unsound interpretation upon it (as has been proved by recent ex­ periment) is not this sufficient reason for altering it? If I were a man of influence in any way, I would leave the Church this year if measures were not taken by Queen, Parliament, or Bishops, to alter this Liturgy. As it is, I am nobody; and my secession would do more evil in creating ill-will in the small circle of my neighbours than good to the community to whom my influence and example cannot reach. Though I could have talked over all this with you, yet I am sorry not to have written it before. For I am vext to hear one of your truth and courage, and sense talk so, remembering you must talk so to your

February 1851 Clergy, and help to perpetuate the drowsy errors to which worse men give a life of making mischief. You know I love you: and write now to the Archdeacon, not the man John Allen. I am tempted to hope these are separable characters. You will forgive me—your wife will hate me—and remain hers and yours ever E.FG. 1

"Late, but seriously." Dodsworth (1798-1861), one of the Tractarians, joined the Roman Catholic Church after the Gorham judgment in 1851. Charles J. Blomfield (1786-1857), Bishop of London (1828-56). 2William

To E. B. Cowell 60 Lincoln's Inn Fields Febr. 10/51 My dear Cotvell, I was going to write to you this very day: partly for the mercenary purpose of getting you to have the enclosed advertisement1 inserted in the most popular Oxford Newspaper—to be inserted for two following weeks—or, if you like better, in two newspapers for one week. Let me know the cost: and I will repay. But this was not the only reason for my writing. I should have written a week ago at least: but I did not know your direction: and you will think it ludicrous in me to say I have scarce dared to go to King's St. to ascertain it.2 Is it not more ludicrous that your letter today has made me more spooney than Urvasi!3 It has indeed. I shall scarce have heart to go back to Suffolk. I will send you, if you like, the copy I made of your wife's dear Bramford Poem: with my hints at correction. Remember, I only hinted them as hints—and quite hasty ones—the only alteration I was sure of being the excisions and condensations. Many of the lines I put in are really vulgar, and only meant as pro tempore stop-gaps. But brown the corn waved upon Bolton hill, And summer airs slow turn'd the labouring mill. O you wretched Creatures, can you look at those lines and not weep? Before I left home, I looked everywhere for a copy of the Suffolk

February 1851 Villager's poems4 (are not you—is not she—ashamed of the very name!) which I have; but it is small: and had got behind grosser volumes. I wanted to subject them to my Criticism too. I desire nothing more than you would let me see any of her poems; for I shall take "amarem quondam dulcedinem" in looking them over, and doing all that FitzDennis5 can do in dressing the extravagancies of the "plante tortue," which he does not grow for himself. Do not think of publishing till this is done. I must speak of Euphranor now—out of shame. I am certain of one thing; I should not have asked you and Spedding to write even honest praise but that I have it [at] heart the Book should be read; drop though it be to sprinkle on the wide world! It is all I can say: I will do what I can to make others hear it. But I know well, were it really a fine thing, done by Plato himself, it would do nothing—people would read, and admire,—and not practise. The current of a declining nation's history is too strong. Who profits so little by the knowledge as myself! I am really sorry you have written a whole Review of it:6 I only wanted, as I told you, a glance in a Review. If it be done, it is done, however; I will send a copy to the Westminster Editor. But I beg you to use no entreaties to him to insert your praise if he does not relish the subject. Farewell—God bless you both. E.FG. My copy of the Bramford Poem is only that which [I] sent you written out fair. P.S. Of course the puffs from the Examiner, etc., will be printed small. If you think there is too much (looking to expense, etc.) cut out. Perhaps, in a County paper, one might have the Advertisement spread over two columns: so as the Euphranor might be larger—the extracts still very small. But the mountain must not charge too high for groan­ ing with the mouse. 1

For Euphranor. Mrs. Cowell's parents. 3 In the Vikramorvasi, or Urvast won by Valor, a play by Kalidisa dealing with the love of the nymph Urvasi and King Puniravas. EFG had read the play with the Cowells the preceding summer. Cowell published a translation in 1851. 4 Historical Reveries, by a Suffolk Villager [Mrs. Cowell], published in Sudbury, 1839. The British Museum Catalogue and other sources erroneously credit the book to Sarah Wilkinson. 5 Barton's name for EFG, the captious critic. 6 In Westminster Quarterly Review, April, 1851, pp. 260-62. 2 From

February 1851

To George Crabbe of Merton [London] [February 10, 1851] My dear George,

I send you an Euphranor, and (as you desire it) Spedding's Exam­ iner.1 I believe that I should be ashamed of his praise, if I did not desire to take any means to make my little book known for a good purpose. I think he over-praises it: but he cannot over-praise the design, and (as I believe) the tendency of it. I do not think Donne has written about it. There were some words of praise in the Gentlemen's Magazine:2 but not by him, as they blamed me for mistiness. The Spectator has praised moderately—the poor old Literary Gazette3 more warmly—who wrote in both I know not at all. So much for Euphranor. The Athenaeum has yet said nothing —but will probably sneer, since others have not. I must give your Father a fillip to write. So farewell— Yours in haste, E.FG. 1 Spedding's article on Euphranor was the leading review in The Examiner, Feb. 8, 1851, p. 84. He wrote in part: ". . . the composition is an excellent speci­ men of a kind in which English writers have rarely succeeded. . . . On Platonic model, with a little narrative introducing, running through, and closing it. . . . It passes lightly and happily over a field of suggestions too various for particular enumeration, and settles at last into an animated and earnest plea in behalf of a system of training which gives Nature room and time to grow. The vices of the forcing, cramming, stall-feeding systems, which, instead of guarding and cherish­ ing Nature that she may work the more freely, take the business out of Nature's hands, though long since denounced by thoughtful men, have never we think been more happily and effectively exposed." 2The review in the Gentleman's Magazine (Feb., 1851, p. 178) reads: "Euphranor . . . has good sterling stuff in it. It is dashed off somewhat inconsid­ erately, as at p. 47, where the writer has mistaken nastiness for wit, but, on the whole, there is much good in the little book. It will be read with pleasure by all who desire to see around us not a race of mock heroes studying and striving to revive the thoughts and imitate the customs of the worthies of the Middle Ages, but men suited to enjoy and defend the many blessings which increased light and liberty have given us over our forefathers." The passage-to which the reviewer objected reads: ". . I had long before been familiar with an ancient proverb . . . as to what Thought did as he lay in bed.' 'What in fact some folks of weak nerves are said to do before a battle,' said Euphranor with a burst of laughter." EFG modified Euphranor's remark in the

February 1851 second edition of the dialogue and when he prepared the third edition deleted the entire passage as some of the "odious smart writing" for which he did not care. 8 The Literary Gazette (Jan. 25, 1851, pp. 72-73) says of Euphranor, ". . . we find it to be a healthy defence of that plan of education at our public schools . . . to train youth, as in the days of Pericles, in vigour of body and mind at once, in duly balanced proportions, to be men, not as mere men of learning, but sound symmetrical whole natures. The characters are the analogues of many not unfa­ miliar to our college recollections, and faithful to the life. . . . The dialogue abounds with good sense, and glances at questions most interesting in an educa­ tional point of view. Though small, it treats of a great subject with ability."

To Mrs. E. B. Cowell 60 Line. Inn Fields Thursday [February 13,1851 ] Dear Mrs. Cowell, It will be a great pleasure to me to do all I can for your poems. I said in my letter to Cowell that I had at home the Volume Fulcher published; but, as you may have perceived in that little happy visit of yours to Boulge in the Autumn, my Books are not in the best order, and your little Book had slipped timidly away behind some pompous oc­ tavos perhaps. I could not find it, though I looked for it several days. Now I think if you can manage to send me that and what MSS. you have directly, I can well take them down into Shropshire with me, and consider them there, as I shall consider the spring flowers there. It is now just upon a year since I was looking at some of them at Bramford—after my return from Bedford: the spring flowers then coming out in your garden when I used to walk home laden with Keziah's1 cakes, stopped by a fall of snow at the Hockley's, too late for Mr. Hughes' farewell Sermon! You talk of having all Suffolk about you. I think you should spare me a bit of Bramford. What shall it be? Enclosed with your Poems you shall send either one of Cowell's slippers—which I used to wear for him—or a little piece of green ribbon cut into a leaf pattern, which I remember you used to wear this time last year. Yes, send me that, a memorial of the past, and that (elderly knight as I am) I may be en­ couraged to venture on my critical labours with something like the scarf of fair Lady as a guerdon. This suggestion, begun but half ear­ nestly, really is the one I will abide by in good earnest. Send me this; that while I look on it,

February 1851 I may seem, As in the nights of old, to lie Beside the mill wheel in the stream, While Spedding's Willow whispers by.2 It is a very odd thing, but quite true, I assure you, that before your letters came I was sitting at breakfast alone, and reading some of Moore's Songs, and thinking to myself how it was fame enough to have written but one song—air, or words—which should in after days solace the sailor at the wheel, or the soldier in foreign places!—be taken up into the life of England! No doubt "The Last Rose of Sum­ mer" will accomplish this. Beg Cowell to let me know what I owe him for the advertisements. TeII him I read his Articles in the last Westminster3 two days ago— with great pleasure?—no; they smacked too much of Bramford. I wish I could draw something for you; but my hand has entirely forgot its cunning that way. I have tried once or twice of late years; but found I could not put two lines together with any verisimilitude. I hate London more and more; but am obliged to be here because of Trusteeships, etc. I have seen no one scarcely; neither Carlyle, Thack­ eray, or Tennyson; though the two first are certainly in town. You see I have answered both your letters in one. Send me whatever Poems you can. I think you showed me "the Stake" last year! I did not take to it, I remember; but then I did not consider it much. I like you to write of Thornbush! Farewell—both E.FG. Fulcher, I am sure, will make no objection to your making use of his Book. Why should not—and would not—he re-publish? He is a worthy kind of man. 1 The

Cowells' maid. from Tennyson's "The Miller's Daughter," with alteration italicized. For "Spedding's Willow," see letter to F. Tennyson, Dec. 31, 1850. Spedding and EFG had visited the Cowells at Bramford in August. 3 "Spanish Literature" and a review of the Makdmat of al-Hariri of Basra, trans­ lated from Arabic by Theodore Preston, both published in the Westminster Review, Jan., 1851. 2 Lines

February 1851

To Ε. Β. Cowell Pmk., Southampton February 14,1851 My dear Cowell, I enclose you the copy I made of the Bramford poem; so as, if you or the Wife have not written it out, you may see what form it takes in my version. Mind, I only stand up for the form: the alteration of individual lines, etc., are only meant to be suggestive, or altered by me so as to carry out the new form. Your wife's lines are often diffuse and inexact; but there is something of the "native woodnote wild" still, which is much better than my conventional precision. I speak plainly and sin­ cerely. She and you ought to see to the weak points I indicate, and then I believe this poem will become a very delightful one. I have not in the copy I now send noted all that I noted in the copy I sent first; and which should be referred to still, I think. Let me have back the copy I now send when you have done with it. I find I cannot show you my one good stanza without giving it in its place; so I have written out the very inferior rest (as well as I could remember it) just because you ask for it.1 Do not admire the whole; you will like it at first, because it has the air of a good thing: but there is little in it. The one stanza (or rather half-stanza), which you will easily find out, has Imagination.2 Yours, E.FG. 1 EFG's 2 See

poem, "Bredfield Hall." letter to Mrs. Cowell, Feb. 17.

To Mrs. Charlesworth1 60 Line. Inn Fields Monday [Feb. 17, 1851] Dear Mrs. Charlesworth, I am just come in to Town from my Mother's house at Ham; and in an hour about to return thither. I mean to make up my mind to call at King St. before I leave Town. You smile at my bad compliment? I assure you the departure of her who once bore your name, and her husband, from Suffolk, has caused

February 1851 me a sorrow which I scarce like to increase by the sight of those so connected with both. Yet I would rather see you when you have no party: however familiar your visitors may be they can scarce be so familiar as yourselves and the memories connected with you—howso­ ever these memories have turned almost bitter to me. I will take all care of your Book. My best regards to all who bear the name of Charlesworth, which is a classic name to yours gratefully E. FitzGerald 1 Taken

from a transcript of EFG's letter made by Mrs. Cowell.

To Mrs. Cowell [60 Lincoln's Inn Fields] [London] Pmk., Feb. 17,1851 Dear Mrs. Cowell, I have got your packet—the poems, and the ribbon that you wore when the snowdrops were coming out under your windows in Bramford this time year? You differ greatly with me when you speak of these poems as "fool­ ish things" and "not to publish." I think they are the very things that "ought to publish." They are the "native woodnotes wild"; whereas some of yours about Babylon and others in the more heroic vein are, as I think, echoes—sometimes of better things—sometimes of worse—for they have a taint of the Annuals about them. I do not say they have not many good thoughts in them: I shall do all I can to analyze and to like them or their parts. But these pastoral, household, poems I like whole—or, at least, the whole scheme and air of them; and it seems to me that they properly bear out your title of "A Suffolk Villager." I think you might make a delightful, though a small, volume of such poems as refer to the Homes of your Youth—with some such title. I do not care about my own verses for the same reason I do not care about Babylon, etc. They are not original—which is saying, they are not worth any­ thing. They may possess sense, fancy etc.—but they always recall other and better poems. You see all moulded rather by Tennyson etc. than growing spontaneously from my own mind. No doubt there is original feeling, too; but it is not strong enough to grow up alone and whole of itself—it takes an alien form, and always gives evidence that it does so.

February 1851 The lines which still affect me as the good ones in the piece are the two last of these; Unto him the fields around thee Darken with the days gone by: O'er the solemn woods that bound thee Ancient sunsets seem to die.1 I mean this seems to me the best thought in the poem—the most imagi­ native. Your Mother has just sent me the Reveries—and an invitation to go to her house tonight. I cannot: for I am just going to my Mother's at Ham for a day. It is the real truth that I am almost afraid to go to King St. Do not let Cowell write to me unless with perfect leisure and inclina­ tion. Make him walk—walk—walk—and so live to be the best Scholar in England, and your happy husband for years and years to come. E.FG. 1 From

"Bredfield Hall." A number of early versions of the poem are extant.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [February 21,1851 ] My dear Cowell, I have only this filthy half sheet to write on; but I will write to you notwithstanding, so as you may hear from me before the week closes. Your packet came all safe today1—you cannot over-do me. I shall take them to Archdeacon Allen's with me. Meanwhile, I have bought an­ other copy of the "Historical Reveries" which I have nearly looked over, and done what I can to reform; my reforms, as usual, consisting chiefly in Excisions. YOM must help to alter what is left, and I have marked many passages which I leave to you, and your wife's after con­ sideration, to remodel. Who so proper, in all ways, to do this, as your­ self? It is not laziness makes me leave much to you; where I have been able, whether on first instinct, or second thought, to supply a better reading, I have done so; after this, do you try your first and second thoughts; if nothing comes of them, I must go to Oxford and lay my head with yours; or you must come to Boulge this next Summer! Yes,

February 1851 you must! You can both live plainly, and the cottage is dry and well in summer. Remember this. I enclose one poem re-modelled—and, I am sure, greatly improved— by condensation, chiefly. I want to know about the song of that trumpet at Oxford. Is it a military Bugle, blowing every morning to a garrison? And is Margaret always living at Oxford—and is the "way-worn pas­ senger" Mrs. Elizabeth Cowell? Let me know. You must not leave the Bramford poem as I sent it; there should certainly be some Suffolk historic reminiscence added to that of Anne Boleyn: and her case ought to be squared to the metaphysical position it is meant to illustrate; which now it does not; but the contrary; as I noted in the printed copy I sent you. Alter this. "Ossington" reads like one of Charles Lamb's pleasant poems. Remember to let me know about the Oxford Trumpet and Margaret; it may become a pretty song. I will write to you about Calderon and 12s.2 by and bye. Meantime you have my thanks for this and your so many kind offers and per­ formances—ever yours and hers. E.FG. I called at King St. two days ago, and saw Maria.3 P.S. I don't know "Clisson." I am, and always have been, for the "dun cow" except wanting the rhythm altered. Might one have "always used to be grazing" instead of "used to always be grazing" which is a woodnote too wild, I think. Or does she like "would always be grazing" if the "always" must keep its present place? 1 Manuscripts 2 To

of Mrs. (Howell's poems. pay for advertisements for Euphranor, placed by Cowell in Oxford news­

papers. 3 Where Mrs. Cowell's parents lived. Maria was her sister.

To John Allen Line: Inn Fields Febr. 22/51 My dear Allen, I went today to ask your Brother if he knew of any reason (belong­ ing to our Trustee-ship) which should prevent my leaving what yet remains to be done in his hands, and going to meet you on Tuesday. He said "nothing"—and we parted. But, after ten minutes, he came to tell me (what he had not thought of before) that before you could be

February 1851 removed from the Trustee-ship, another Trustee must be found to fill your place! This, it seems, is a necessity generally known to all men of business (of which number I am not one)—but your Brother had forgot to mention it to me in the four weeks during which I have communicated with him since I have been in town. He gave me to suppose that you could leave the Trustee-ship at once, no other being necessary. He asked me today if I could not hit on another Trustee by Monday! But, if Trustees were so easily got, it is evident that it is my sister Lusia must choose for herself, not I for her. Now your Brother told me today (what he had not told me before) that the reason for desiring you to be exonerated from the Trustee-ship arises from Mr. Higgins1—who is nervous about it, etc., which one fact will shew you what sort of objections people make to being Trustees. I believe that Mr. Higgins' fears are quite vain: and, at all events, your responsibilities are shared by two other Trustees—myself and Leopold De Soyres. I must say that (after all this delay) unless Mr. Higgins' anxiety is very severe, I think you should really continue in the Trust; considering you took it upon you voluntarily: considering the bother also that may arise from your leaving it. Pray let us know your decision about it as soon as you can; for all this while Lusia's Dividend is lying useless; and though the interest accruing on £1000 for six weeks is no great matter, it is evident that, as Trustees, we have no right to suffer any loss to her which can be avoided. I shall write to her tonight to tell her of all this; but I will not say that I will advise her to release you from the Trustee-ship—any more than I advise you to give it up. You can, you know, refuse to act; but I am sure you will not do so, unless acting, and remaining Trustee, is Kkely to be a serious and just annoy­ ance to Mr. Higgins. At all events, you see while this is all at sixes and sevens, I cannot leave town. Had your Brother told me such was the law of the Case a month ago, all might have been settled before this; but he seemed to be assured himself that you might relinquish the Trust quite easily without any substitute, so long as I and Leopold De Soyres kept in. You will understand that in saying this, I do not question his kindness. I have had too much reason to know it personally; I only say that this little omission must excuse my non-appearance at Prees, and also the sudden and peremptory nature of this letter. Do not put yourself or yours to serious inconvenience; but do not augment my family troubles unless there is good cause. You will not, I am sure. Yours ever, E.FG.

Febraary 1851 When I shall go by Rail to you, at what Town am I to leave Rail and take Coach? 1

Allen's father-in-law.

To Mrs. Cowell [60 Lincoln's Inn Fields] [London] Monday [February 24,1851] My dear Mrs. Coioell, I enclose eight of the last batch you sent—the text on one side, and the comment on the other, of each page. I had written my comments as to die sad, or cheerful, ending of the "Yellow Hammer" before your letter came this morning—so to them I refer you for such answer as I can give. "Ossington" I still think, ought to end cheerfully: as the Yellow Hammer should, if (as you say) the burden of the real bird's song were not essentially pensive. Yet you yourself in your copy of the poem talk of its "singing cheerly on." Well, you will see what I have said to it all. You have not sent me "Clisson" and the "Two Children"—which you will in time, however. Do not think it necessary to answer every packet I return: but always remember that when I alter, and add, I do not do so as if finally: but always wishing yourself and Cowell to consider of it further. In a day or two I will post you the "Historical Reveries" which I have nearly done all I can to. Yours in haste E.FG.

To George Crabbe of Merton 60 Lincoln's Inn Fields [February 27,1851] My dear George, I had hoped to have been away from here a fortnight ago at least. But my own talents for misunderstanding Business, and Lawyer's tal­ ents in complicating it, have detained me. We have been bothering for

February 1851 the last five weeks about releasing Archdeacon Allen from being co­ trustee with me in my sister Lusia's affairs; his brother (a lawyer) was to manage it quite easily: and only last Saturday told me that it was necessary to find a substitute—a thing he himself (he confesses) had quite over-looked, till reminded of it by another Lawyer! One cannot find Trustees for such entangled affairs as my family affairs now are at a day's notice—had he only remembered to tell me this obvious thing a month ago it might have been settled. I shall however now not wait to settle this, which, in fact, is more Lusia's business than mine. It is because she and her husband are away that I have taken some pains in their behalf. I feel strongly tempted to make Allen's secession from his Trustee-ship an excuse for my secession from Prees. I would indeed fain put off my visit till next winter for many reasons. But I suppose next week I shall move either to him—or to Bath to see Lusia—or to Oxford to see the Cowells, on my way to Bath. If I go to Allen's, I can not afford to go either to Oxford or Bath; and vice versa. My heart saddens to think of Bramford all desolate; and I shall now almost turn my head away as any road, or railroad brings me within sight of the little Spire! I write once a week to abuse them both for going. But they are quite happy at Oxford. I felt a sort of horror when I read in your letter you had ordered my Book into your Club, for fear some one might guess. But if your folks don't guess, no one else will. I have heard no more of it since I wrote to you last, except that its sale does not stand still. Pickering's foreman blundered in the Advertisements; quoting an extract about the use of the Book, when he should have quoted about its amusement, which is what the world is attracted by. But I left it to him. As it would be a real horror to me to be known as the writer, I do not think I can have much personal ambition in its success; but I should sincerely wish it to be read for what little benefit it may do. Also, no doubt, I shall not be sorry if the £30 it costs me be reimbursed. I wish, if my Camphine lamp would be of any use to you at your Rectory,1 you would take it. You can manage it, you know, and I can not, and never use it. Get a glass for it at Woodbridge for me; that is to say, for John; who, I fully intend, shall pay for it. I have seen scarce anybody here—Thackeray only once; neither Tennyson nor Carlyle. Donne came up for a day to see as to the moral­ ity of the "Prodigal Son"2 at Drury Lane, which the Bishop of London complained of. Donne is deputy Licenser for Jack Kemble. I went to see it with him; it was only stupid and gaudy.

February 1851 Farewell, my dear George. If you can give me some good reason for getting home quick I shall thank you. My kind remembrances to all. Ever yours truly E.FG. I wrote out these two bits of music for you the other night after coming home from one of those bad Casinos—but I have only patched them up—not remembering half—and having no piano to try them on. Your sister must make both ends meet. Let me know how they do. I wish you could send me the two alterations which Causton proposed for the last bar but one of "Knowst thou an Isle," etc.3 1 Young

Crabbe had been appointed Rector of Merton, near Watton, Norfolk. the Prodigal, adapted from L'Enfant Prodigue of Augustin Scribe and Daniel Auber (AIdis Wright note). 3 A lyric of EFG's which he set to music. William Causton was a Woodbridge organist and teacher of music. (For "Knowst Thou an Isle," see Terhune, FitzGerald, pp. 151-52.) 2 Azael

To Mrs. CoweIl [60 Lincoln's Inn Fields] [February 28,1851] My dear Mrs. Cowell, Herewith come enclosed two poems which I have gathered out of those you sent me. The others I have looked at, and turned over in my mind: but I do not feel a call to help them towards publication; though I do not say they are not fit for it, and that, even to my eyes, they have not much that is good in them. Especially that called "Where art Thou?"—which yet, on the whole, seems to me too unoriginal—too Tennysonian. I thought much of the verses on your sisters etc. sleeping: but on the whole leave them, except some verses at the end, which may make a fragment. You are to remember that many things which I might have chosen had I them alone, I reject if I have something better of the same kind. In these days there is no room but for the quintessence of one's poetry, at all events; and, beside that, so many of these poems (and the best of them, I think) are affectionate remem­ brances, that one must take care how one gets too many together too much alike. You know I think "In Memoriam" tiresome and unwhole­ some partly on this account. Mind, I do not alter my opinion that I before expressed to you, that in my mind your book should consist chiefly of such retrospections etc. I say so still; for the simple reason

February 1851 that I think this is your strong point; but then I also think one should vary the form and turn of these retrospections as much as possible; and touch them lightly. That is why I think "Ossington" should end cheerfully. All that I say about these MS. poems applies to the Historical Reveries—which I also send you by this post. You will see marked in the Index those which I think most available, and which only I have meddled with. Very little with the Heroic ones; and such as I do mark of that kind—as Babylon—Nemi—etc. are rather for variety than for other reason. So it is with the Sonnets, in the main. You know I speak my mind plainly to you, as I am sure you wish me to do. I think, how­ ever, the poem to Elizabeth Alexander a very good one of the more ambitious kind; I have altered the last Stanza—not for the sake of the thought, but of the grammar. What more shall I say now? Only this: that I do not propose my alterations as final; but want you and Cowell to do so much for your­ selves in them. I am only confident so far as to say "here an alteration is wanted"—no farther. What I suggest may be of the kind wanted: but it often trite, and even vulgar. Who so proper to help in this as your husband? He has not shown me any of his poetry—nor have you—but I have no doubt he has more creative faculty than I have, though perhaps I might not think his sufficiently creative for what I call Poetry. If you will show me some, I will tell you. If you believe my words, you know my opinion of my own faculty—which nothing you can say can alter. Why?—because the same faculty of Judgment which I apply to other peoples' works I can apply to my own; and in that old woman's faculty I yield to nobody. Lastly, I should have kept all these poems longer perhaps. But I am today changing quarters—to W. Thackeray's—13 Young St. Kensington —where I shall be till the middle of next week, I suppose. Then I move—whither?—to Shropshire, I suppose, though I have a longing to go to Bath—via Oxford! I have tried to persuade Archdeacon Allen he ought not to have guests in Lent. Yesterday I saw Carlyle—and am going to tea with him tonight. I shall take the opportunity of abusing you both. He is going to run away from London during the Great Exhibition;1 for what a thing it is, he says, to pour in new hordes into an already over-crowded City. Farewell. Let me hear from you. I hear this morning poor little Ginger2 is ill and like to die. Yours ever E.FG.

March 1851 1 Which 2 EFG's

was to open at the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park on May 1. Skye terrier.

To E. B. Cowell 13 Young St. Kensington [March 3,1851] My dear Cotvell, I posted the "Historical Reveries" on Friday last: the same day on which I posted my last letter to your wife. Pray let me know if it has reached you by this time; for, as I remember the Post OfiBce into which I dropped it, I will enquire there should it not reach you tomorrow. So be so good as to write me word by return of post whether it has come to hand or not. I have got Urvasi1—which I dare not look into. We read it together somewhere about this time last year, I believe—no, later—in the sum­ mer. I have just given it to Thackeray to take with him to his room. I doubt if he can do anything for it, but perhaps he can put it into the hands of some one who will. Did you send a copy to Carlyle? It is he who could order Forster to write a notice of it in the Examiner. He has only to hint applause, and Forster will soon trumpet it. Now as to Madam's Poems. I have said nearly all I had to say on the subject in former letters; and you do not shake me in my opinions as yet. I still think Ossington should end cheerfully—not Bacchically, as you say I now end it. But the impression left on the reader's mind by the original Poem was, I think, that the writer was diverted from re­ grets by the recurrence of Xmas festivities; and that she yielded some­ thing to the Spirit of the Season. Else why advert to those festivities at all? As to the Yellow Hammer, I also think the Dog should have a whole stanza as well as the Cow: but not at the cost of such a half stanza as that of "the roseleaves falling on its beautiful head etc", which perhaps is a quotation from Urvasi. As to my doctrine about sight and sound—I did not mean that the bird's song might not recall sight, since I had already admitted it to be so in the case of the Dog and the Cow; but I meant (and, surely, said) that, after telling of the Voice recalled by the Bird, it was not well to re-vert to the sight of the Speaker; her light step, flashing eye etc. They

March 1851 should (I think) have come directly after Cow and Dog, and then the Voice. This may be easily done, I dare say; and I shall be glad to see the lines about the step and eye restored, only not replaced. I did not try to reform all: far from it; you and Madam must do your share, es­ pecially in respect of supplying fresh matter. I principally (as I have often before said) reform the shape of the poem; and indicate what is to be cut out, and what re-cast. You will think I often cut away too much, I dare say: but, if my version reads sufficient, depend on it, that is best; the shorter the better, in these days—and perhaps in all days. I took tea with Carlyle three nights ago, and he was very pleasant; and walked home with me at night through street and lane from Chelsea to this door of Thackeray's. We talked of you; but Carlyle would.... [Remainder missing] 1

Cowell's translation, just published.

To E. B. Cowell Boulge Hall, Woodbridge Pmk., March 14,1851 Dear Cowell, Instead of going to Shropshire, as I ought, I have run back here: glad to leave London at all events. Tell Madam that when Spedding returned to town four days ago he himself of his own accord began to praise three stanzas of "Ossington" which I had sent him three weeks ago: he said they were like Cowper —which will please your obstinate wife (why would she force you to leave Bramford?) more than my saying they were like Lamb. I re­ peated to him the first six lines of the Bramford poem and he liked them much. Let me know what you think of my atrocious inroads upon the Historical Reveries. Had I gone to Bath, I should certainly have touched at Oxford: but Lusia was too unwell to see me. And why should I go to see you happy in Egypt? I turned my eyes away from the roads that lead to the old land of milk and honey! Farewell E.FG.

March 1851

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge March 24/51 My dear Lady, I enclose two poems [of] which I found rough copies in my desk down here. You will perhaps recognise them: and you and Cowell must set your wits to work to put them to right. For in this, as in all former cases, I cannot too emphatically assert to you that I do not propose my alterations as final: but only as the sort of alteration needed. I should indeed have done better only to have marked where I thought alteration was necessary: not hinting at the kind of altera­ tion. For your good-natured acceptation of what I supply, (and per­ haps your indolence in shirking further trouble in the matter) makes you put up with what I interpolate. You are really quite wrong in liking such things as the stanzas I send you about Jane Grey: the sonnet to E. Alexander etc. I mean, you are wrong in liking them "per se" though they will do, for want of better, either to patch up a hole in a poem otherwise good, or to make a small variety. They are correct and sensible, and fanciful perhaps; but of a common, stereotype, un­ original, form and spirit, which might have done very well thirty years [ago], when comparatively few people wrote poetry, but utterly needless now. When you tell me I give the drawing master's touches to your drawings, you say more truth than you are conscious of: for I have often seen sketches with some rough intimations of Nature by pupils made up into conventional drawings (fit to hang up in all decent parlours) by the Drawing Master. In the sonnet to E. Alexander, there was one good line originally—"The draft may vanish from the well"— which I have injured by adding some epithet, I believe, to fit it into place. Why is the line as you wrote it good? You cannot tell—nor I— but I pledge my old woman's faculty that so it is—its essential felicity lies partly in thought, partly in words and vowels, in a manner we cannot explain, nor laboriously imitate. It is said the Poet knows not what he would say till he has said it. So it is with these lines—"My bow has been broken this many a day—My fast flying arrows are all shot away." It is not easy to say where the virtue of the second line lies: yet it is there—one feels at once it is easy, felicitous, and the thing. I say again that these are the sort of things you do well in, and should keep to such subjects—using Jane Greys, Babylons etc. only for variety—if that be needed, which is very doubtful. The thing above all

April 1851 others in these days is to produce only the best one can. You said in a former letter you could perhaps write some more about some of your old parsonages. Do so, by all means—perhaps you will see them all the better in your mind's eye thro' the porticoes of Oxford. Doesn't Bramford look divine? You give me a kind of shock by saying how "much better Oxford is than Bramford." I lose faith in the regard you have expressed so well for other old places of your youth. (N.B. Don't sup­ pose I look too seriously when I write this.) Now as to the poems you last sent me, I will say about Cleeve Castle that it opens with a good picture, but goes on to Charles 2 (is it?) in a way that I don't understand. "Here is Cleeve Castle, where Charles 2 never was; so let us meditate on Charles 2"—which reminds one of the famous Chapter on Owls in the History of Iceland. You skip from subject to subject as easily—as from Bramford to Oxford! So I spit my venom. Let me know the history of the two children, which I don't understand; and it has rather an Annual look about it. Tell EBC I don't wholly understand his Mesnavi allegory. Did the Greek wall reflect the Chinese painting, or the face of Nature, as a camera obscura does? All this he could have explained to me—had he been at B-r-m-f-r-d. I did not go to Allen's because it was Lent, because I had been so long from home, partly delayed by Allen's business; and because I wished to go there at another time. I offered to go and see Lusia at Bath; which if I had done I should assuredly have got a look at Oxford too. But why should I go and see you for two days if I cannot draw you both back to the solitary home of household love? I am reading Lucretius again, tell Cowell: who steeps my soul in a sort of gloomy colour, as that Veil he tells of coloured the pit of the Roman Theatre. Ever yours E.FG.

To E. B. Cowell Ipswich April 9/51 My dear Cowell, I have just returned from Bury, where, lodging at Donne's, I at­ tended the Assizes, a thing I am fond of for many reasons. My letters were forwarded to me from Boulge last Saturday: but none among them

May 1851 signed by a Cowell. Perhaps I shall find one when I return home to­ morrow; if not, let it not be long before I hear from one of you. I looked sadly at the once happy Valley as I passed thro' it—all looking as be­ fore except that no smoke ascended from one chimney. I saw your notice of me in the Westminster.1 You are sure I thank you. Brooke has returned to UfFord with a large pair of moustaches added to his whiskers: so as his fleshly features are almost invisible. He has a large store of books coming home from Spain and Italy, I think. I saw the Chorus2 yesterday: and laid out 2s. with him on Creech's translation of Lucretius.3 By the bye, have you got my copy of Thack­ eray's Second Funeral of Napoleon?4 I ask about it, because it is now not to be got—nearly all the copies were destroyed as waste paper. The Major5 tells me he is writing to you: and I am sure he thinks of you with regret. I hope Madam forgives me for the foul language used against her in my last letter—which (after passing by Bramford yester­ day) I cannot retract. Are you not both there now? Shall I not walk over this afternoon and see you both? Will not the lavender gown run to the gate to welcome me; and EBC be found sitting within at San­ scrit; Keziah coming up those two steps— Yours, E.FG. 1 Cowell's

review of Euphranor in the April Westminster Review, pp. 260-62. Read, the Ipswich bookseller. 3 The translation by Thomas Creech, originally published in 1682. 4 A booklet published in 1841. 5 Thomas Hockley.

2James

To George Crabbe of Merton Boulge Tuesday, May the something, 1851 My dear George,

I am ashamed you should have the trouble of asking me to Merton so often, and so in vain. I might give you a specious reason for not going now: that Miss Barton is suddenly come to Woodbridge for a few days: but I will honestly confess I believe I should not have ac­ companied your Father in his Voyage to your house, had the sky been quite clear of engagement. Why, I cannot exactly say: my soul is not packed up for Merton yet, though one day it will be; and I have no

May 1851 such idea of the preciousness of my company as to have any hesitation in letting my friends wait any length of time before I go to occupy their easy chairs. The day will come, if we live. I have had a very strong invitation to Cambridge this week—to live with my old friends the Skrines in Sidney College. But why should we meet to see each other grown old, etc.? (I don't mean this quite seriously.) Ah, I should like a drive over Newmarket Heath: the sun shining on the distant leads of Ely Cathedral. The Piano I will look to the first time I go to Ipswich—which will be very soon. Wilkinson has been ill at Holbrook: and my first visit is :o be to him. I was knocked up this morning from breakfast by F. Barlow:1 who is nibbling at Boulge Farm. It seems as if Smith were going, though I iad not heard it definitely from himself. I could only repeat to Barlow Tiy cautions against any dealings with John himself. It was a pleasure to see F.B. come and go on his Chestnut mare. I suppose nothing will come of all this business, however. You see Thackeray's Lectures advertised,21 suppose. A few years ago [ should have wished to hear them perhaps: now they are as indifferent :o me as the Great Exhibition. I am in a rage with all the Gentry (socalled) of England, because when I wrote to Brooke of Ufford to help Tie in a little pension for King—a soldier like himself, and so long a Iweller in a Parish Brooke has a large interest in—he writes to tell me ie shall be glad to talk to me on the subject: meanwhile, "give him a iouple of shillings from me." My soul is sick at this meanness—and I liink any Revolution is right that returns such ignoble aristocracies into the dirt which is their proper element. For whom does one find better? Betts edged off giving 6d to a Punch whose whole performance he had -elished—and I see in Corrance,3 etcc., that shabbiness in important demands has to make up for extravagance in vulgar ostentation and dilettantism—Operas, dinners, pictures, and Miss Betts' bustles. Yet I ion't think myself better than all these men: only better in this one point. I rage, because the country goes to ruin under them. Farewell, E.FG. 1 Frederick Barlow, included among the principal landowners of Hasketon in White's Directory, 1855. Boulge Farm, part of the FitzGerald estate. John was EFG's elder brother. 2 "The English Humourists of the Eighteenth Century." The six lectures were »iven January 12-28. 3The Reverend Thomas Betts (1789-1859), Rector of Martlesham. Frederick Torrance, Loudham Hall, Pettistree.

May 1851

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge May 27/51 My dear Lady, You accuse me\—have I not been waiting for the Well of Clisson1 which never arrives? All of a sudden a Boatrace puts you in mind of Euphranor and that of EFG, and then flies off a fragment of a Note to that illustrious Author. I was out when that bit of a note arrived here, however; or I should have replied to it sooner. I now write at 5 o'clock A.M.—in the morning, I mean—not having been able to sleep over-much: nor (so fine as the morning is though rather cold) am I sorry to be up. You can imagine— indeed about Oxford you can doubtless see—how delicious the country now is—at its very prime. I always try to make the most of this season: to drain it drop by drop. When does your Oxford term finish, and when are you coming into these parts? I have not set eyes on Bramford for weeks—scarce on Ipswich. My last big jaunt was to Bungay, to hear old Childs2 talk, and his son's classes sing: and I really enjoyed a family party they had there very much. There was much of the old picturesque individuality, and strength, of character which is gone from the Genteel. How much do you find of it at Oxford? I think I shall shut myself up in the re­ motest nook of Suffolk and let my beard grow etc. You and Cowell would hate the only book I have been reading—the Comedies of Congreve, Vanbrugh etc. which I delight in somehow: more, I believe, for the glimpses of old English Life in them than for the wit, which is very wonderful. Why, we beat the French at their own little weapon, it seems to me. I do not forget however to sweeten my imagination with Tennyson's old poems: indeed they will come into my mind as I walk, called up by the same vernal influence that litters cowslips on the Hill —the Lady of Shalott—the Gardener's Daughter—Morte d'Arthur etc., fresh as when I first heard them nearly twenty years ago: perhaps fresher from being remembered so long. Yours ever E.FG. 1 One

of Mrs. Cowell's poems. Childs, printer of Bungay, who had printed Euphranor. His son Charles for years trained and conducted choruses made up of employees at the printing works. EFG frequently attended their concerts. 2 John

June 1851

To W. B. Donne Pmk., Woodbridge June 2,1851 My dear Donne, I had a letter from Charles a week ago: telling me, among other things, that Mowbray1 has got a prize for English Verse—on which I congratulate him and you. I have an inkling to run over and be at the Bury Speeches, if Donaldson will admit me—in July, I suppose? Some day you are to run over here; any day you will you know I shall be delighted—day, —days, —weeks— I found by chance the enclosed print: so like the original, it seems to me, that you may like to have it. Crabbe flourishes, though he does not smoke just now. But this is only to make a spring with redoubled energy by and bye, I have no doubt. I have been less at his home lately, because the summer eve­ nings draw me into the fields; and he scarcely admits fresh air into his house; a thing I cannot live without. My head gets more and more subject to muddiness,2 and a stived up room makes me crazy. Do not take the trouble to write a letter: but let me have a line when you have most leisure to say how you and yours are. As I grow older, I find my thoughts turn more and more to such old friends as yourself: and I see so few people here that my acquaintance almost lies in the past. Yours ever, E.FG. 1 Donne's 2A

son, a student at Bury school. complaint he often makes.

To Stephen Spring Rice Boulge, Woodbridge June 3/51 My dear Spring Rice, I heard from Spedding you had been ill—about a fortnight ago I heard it—for the first time—for my Correspondence does not keep me up to the mark of early news even about my best and oldest friends. Spedding has since written to me you are getting all right. I sincerely

June 1851 wish you to believe that I rejoice in this: I have thought of you very often: our acquaintance has almost lasted twenty years: and I have not a friend who has given me more cause to regard him than you have. Please to believe I write this in all sincerity. You have a family, and a host of friends, that put you beyond any solicitude as to the loyalty of one "hanging loose on the world" like myself: but I should be sorry [if] you did [not] believe in my attachment. Enough of all this. I am writing in a truly pastoral style in my own garding—at 7 o'clock P.M. after tea—which my old woman has just carried away into the house. Beside the delightful quietude, etc. of even poor ugly Boulge at this season, I have been reading ]oseph Andrews, which has been more to my liking than ever—and I always rejoiced in it. There used to be an old pedantic Parson down here when I was a child—a sort of Don Armado Adams (your wife may have heard talk of Isaac Clarke)1 who used to tell my Mother that he only began to recover from an illness one day "as he was sitting under a haycock" (which he always pronounced "haycack") "reading Tom Jones". It was the same Clergy­ man who, in the good old drinking days, went to bed in a cocked hat, and told my Mother in the morning "it was very extraordinary, but he had found a remarkable difficulty in turning his head on the pillow all night." But this is an Episode. When I began about this old Parson, I meant to say that when my head is muzzy (which it often is now— though not from strong drinks) I find Joseph Andrews, Tom Jones, etc., capital soothing stuff. I can remember people hereabout who really had something of the character of Fielding's people; so these books are like Memoirs to me. Old Squire Jenney down here is a rather refined Squire Western.2 He lives still—has been here this very day. But he is almost the last of the old characters—among the gentry, I mean; one can still find the old English good and bad among the poor. I am afraid this is all very prosy stuff: but I have nothing better to write. I really don't write to my friends when they are quite ablebodied because I have nothing worthy to take up their time. Perhaps you are not quite up to business yet, and so I send you some of this wash—or have you been to hear Titmarsh's3 Lectures? The Great Exhibition I don't ask about. I see in some Paper that Lord Carlisle is about to show his Castle Howard Rctures in the British Institution.4 This is the only announcement that gives me a desire to go to London in this Season of Seasons. Isn't it odd that our London Coaches have been "lighter" of late than usual at this time of year? I see complaints in the papers that but little money is spent in London notwithstanding the great Bubble; and folks down here say no money is spent in the Country because it

June 1851 ill goes to London. Is all this nothing but the statistics of Discontent? [ was, however, looking today at a sloop loaded half-mast-high with hay on the Woodbridge river: and was told it was going to London, where hay could now be sold at £1 a ton more than down here, because of the lots of horses in town. I don't pretend to know what to believe in these matters, and have given up trying. Joseph Andrews is tar more intelligible. I should very much like to have a line from you—for several reasons —but more especially to assure me you are well. But when you are well you are busy: and when not well, perhaps not inclined. My kind3st regards to the Wife. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 Rector

at Bredfield when the FitzGeralds lived at the White House. Fielding's Tom Jones. 3 Michael Angelo Titmarsh, one of Thackeray's pseudonyms. 4 The collection included paintings by Titian, Rubens, Velasquez, Reynolds, Carraci, and Clouet. 2 In

To E. B. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge June 13/51 My dear Cowell, You will believe I think of you much oftener than I write to you. [ndeed I am constantly thinking of you both: constantly missing you. [ see books we read and talked of together lying about; but I do not look into them now. I have no one to encourage and help me. I mean :o take up my Spanish Grammar again, and have a shot at Calderon; perhaps this will be put off however till some day when you may come iither, or I go to Oxford. I have read nothing but what you would call :rash since I saw you, I believe: I mean, of new books. I occasionally ook back into the old Poems—which are still quite young to me: Tennyson's earlier poems bring back my own youth as well as that which must be perennial in themselves. They make me cry like a fool, >ome of them—I cannot take any interest in his two last: no more than [ did from the first. I am sure this is not because they are new. I see jxtracts in the Athenaeum from a new poem of Mrs. Barret Browning -"Casa Guidi Windows"—a Dantesque survey of Italy—and really I

June 1851 am compelled to think her now a greater Poet than Tennyson! That it should come to this! I don't mean that what she writes is equal to what he wrote, and was born to write; but better than what he has lately done or (as I fear) ever will do again. Mrs. Browning writes on a noble, stirring, and 19th century subject; dashing away at rhyme and rhythm; often failing, often succeeding; at all events preserving the charm of impulse and go; not "added and altered many times till all is ripe and rotten." Yet I do not believe her Poems are good enough to live; while the Princess will survive on the strength, I believe, of Mort d'Arthur, Miller's Daughter etc. Ah—it is now twenty years all but one since I first heard that Miller's Daughter and the Lady of Shalott at Cambridge: while sitting up to wait for the Mail; and had the visions in my head all the way to London, through the June night—most of all in the dawn, cold even at that time of year, and inclining one to sleep and dream uncomfortably. When I got to London I heard wretched news; and went upon an errand that has left its black mark upon me while I live.1 I had intended to go to dear old Bury Speeches this year—in a fort­ night's time—with a half sad heart, remembering how we went two years ago. But I believe I shall have to go and attend George Crabbe's Wedding2 at Beccles on the same day: an engagement I would happily waive. You need not tax yourself to write soon nor long: for you are really busy. When is that wayward woman going to send me Clisson? Don't think I forget you; don't believe I don't miss you—if that assurance is more comfortable to you than it is to yours ever E.FG. 1 Probably

related to his sister Lusia's illness at that time. of Merton married his cousin, Emily Louisa, daughter of the Reverend John Crabbe, of Glemham, Suffolk. 2 Crabbe

To W. B. Donne Pmk., Woodbridge June 23, 1851 My dear Donne, I am compelled against my will to give up going to Bury for the Speeches. I may yet have to go to G. Crabbe's Wedding if, at the eleventh hour, I have a very determined remonstrance against my ab­ sence; and, even if I do not go then, I scarce like to run away to the

July 1851 more agreeable engagement with you. For I mortally hate these wed­ ding festivities; a very large company—hot rooms, speeches, etc. But, beside this, I am holding myself ready for London, if it be necessary for me to go. I have very distressing accounts of that man Duncan s1 health—you remember him at College—always a saturnine, melancholy, humourous, man—he has been once before out of his mind: and is now so again, I doubt: and his wife has written in some perturbation to me about him. I have written to her (having some experience in these things) to tell her the only thing to be done is to take the advice of Sutherland2 at once—and abide by it —whatever it be. I believe Duncan should be separated from her for awhile, and kept quite under Sutherland's orders. She wants me to go to town to see him; and I have told her I will do so when she has got Sutherland's advice, and is prepared to obey it. Else, I know the ill effects (not to mention the lost pains) of amateur treatment in these cases. Thus am I circumstanced; and you will believe me when I say that it is with great unwillingness I relinquish you and Bury. You will have less trouble at all events. Do let me hear from you you are better than when you last wrote. With kind regards to all—yours ever, E.FG. 1 Alexander

Duncan. J. Sutherland, M.D., London specialist and author of a number of books on insanity. 2 A.

To Charles Edward Donne Pmk., Woodbridge July 28,1851 My dear Charles, Thank you for your letter, and hospitable offers. If I run up to town just now, I shall put up at Spedding's, as he kindly offers me an attic, and I have some business, as well as pleasure, to transact with him. Indeed, I ought to run up: but here I dawdle. As for the Glass House,1 I don't care a d η for it— On Friday I and the Crabbes and "Horam"2 went down the River in a Boat—Old Crabbe would ascend the rigging: "Horam" kept ques­ tioning an old Trafalgar man "whereabouts in the ship they secreted

August 1851 the Chaplain during a Battle": and altogether we did very well. I wish you had been with us. We all dined at an Inn on the sea shore. Jackson is gone to Sweden, with the Editor of the Rival Ipswich Newspaper, to observe the Eclipse—which, by the bye, will begin here in a few minutes. I should leave off letter-writing, and begin to smoke a glass, but the Clouds have provided for this without any trouble on my part. Today R. Groome3 is coming to me—my first Visitor this year! Nay— I believe, you and he came to me at the very beginning of it! I shall always be glad to see you. W. Browne wrote me word he wanted you to go to him in September. I think you will like his house well: he is a very shrewd man. Yours truly, E.FG. 1 The glass structure, later known as the Crystal Palace, erected in Hyde Park for the Great Exhibition which had opened May 1. 2 Probably the Reverend Herriot Stanbanks Drew, curate to Crabbe of Bredfield at Pettistree. 3 Rector of Monk Soham, Suffolk, a friend from Cambridge days.

To Stephen Spring Rice Boulge August IlISl My dear S. Rice,

I wish you would let me hear how you are. Maybe you may have more leisure to write while you are in Ireland:1 maybe, also, more inclination. At all events, let me have a line to say how you are. I have not yet been to London—and shall probably go down, as you say, a fly on old Sibthorpe's2 beard. Is that what you said? Something in that way of metaphor, relative to our, neither of us, visiting the Exhibition. Without affectation, I have the most total indifference to the whole concern: and I certainly feel no desire to get up an En­ thusiasm for the Koh-i-noor,3 Austrian Cabinets, filigree work etc. If I could understand some of the fine machines which I suppose are to be seen, I would go: but I should not; and I will not make one of the droves of fools who go to look at the medieval frippery. All I can do is at least to hide the dilettanteism I abound with here in a corner; not to parade it abroad nor seek to encrease it.

August 1851 Yet I must tell you I am dilettanteing it over Purcell's King Arthur; helping to put it in trim to be trumpeted by some manufacturers at Bungay!41 only hope we shan't spoil so grand a thing among us. It is said Handel did not care for Purcell: I cannot but think he accom­ modated himself to English ears by help of Purcell, however—es­ pecially in military music. If one is to dabble in the Arts, such Art as this of Purcell's is least likely to be injurious: it is truly noble, national, music—far finer than almost all the Mendelssohn people talk about now; though not so fine as Jupiter Handel. I saw in a newspaper that a De Vere was become Papist. Is this your Relative whom I remember at Cambridge? I don't mean Aubrey, but one before him;5 just the sort of man (excuse my saying so) that one might expect would go over. Is Aubrey to go too?—he being medieval, Oxford, etc. It is wretched all this: the natural effect of Art: travels to Rome etc. You will be sick of my one Carlylese note. I am glad you told Whewell Tom Jones was a moral Book. At least there are five hundred moral books much more immoral. I should doubt if the best English Mother would be seriously grieved if her son were a Tom: with all his faults. Here is enough of my hieroglyphics. This pen, with but one nibbing, has lasted me, I believe, near three months. I never had such a pen: I only wish I had a whole Goose of such. My kind regards to all of yours known to me. Now, don't forget to write me a line; remember, it is nearly twenty years since "we were first acquent." Farewell, my dear S. Rice E.FG. 1 At

his father's home, Mt. Trenchard, County Limerick. Charles Waldo Sibthorp (1783-1855), confirmed opponent of reform during a long career in Parliament, had been a vigorous leader of the opposition to the Great Exhibition. His die-hard Toryism and his persistence in wearing a full beard, uncommon among civilians until after the Crimean war, made him the frequent butt of quips and jokes. 3 A glass model of the Kohinoor diamond, which had become one of the British Crown jewels on the annexation of the Punjab in 1849, proved to be one of the most popular attractions at the Great Exhibition. 4 For Charles Childs's chorus. 5 Edmond de Vere (1808-80), brother of EFG's friend Aubrey and son of Sir Aubrey (1788-1846), poet, and Mary, daughter of Stephen Edward Rice, of Mt. Trenchard, Limerick. Edmond had succeeded his father as third baronet in 1846. 2Colonel

August 1851

To Frederick Tennyson1 Boulge, Woodbridge [August 25,1851] My dear old Frederic, Why do you never write to me? I am sure I wrote last: I constantly am thinking of you, and constantly wishing to see you. Perhaps you are in England at this very hour, and do not let me know of it. When I wrote to you last I cannot remember; whether in Winter or Spring. I was in London during January and February last, but have been vege­ tating down here ever since. Have not been up even to see the Great Exh.—one is tired of writing, and seeing written, the word. All the world, as you know, goes in droves: you may be lounging in it this very hour, though I don't mean to say you are one of a drove. It is because there are so few F. Tennysons in the world that I do not like to be wholly out of hearing of the one I know. . . . My own affairs do not improve, and I have seen more and more of the pitiful in humanity . . . but luckily my wants decrease. I am quite content never to buy a picture or a Book; almost content not to see them. One could soon relapse into Barbarism. I do indeed take a survey of old Handel's Choruses now and then; and am just now looking with great delight into Purcell's King Arthur, real noble English music, much of it; and assuredly the prototype of much of Handel. It is said Handel would not admire Purcell; but I am sure he adapted himself to English ears and sympathies by means of taking up Purcell's vein. I wish you were here to consider this with me; but you would grunt dissent, and smile bit­ terly at my theories. I am trying to teach the bumpkins of the united parishes of Boulge and Debach to sing a second to such melodies as the women sing by way of Hymns in our Church: and I have invented (as I think) a most simple and easy way of teaching them the little they need to learn.2 How would you like to see me, with a bit of chalk in my hand, before a black board, scoring up semibreves on a staff for half a dozen Rustics to vocalize? Laugh at me in Imagination. . . . Almost the only man I hear from is dear old Spedding, who has lost his Father, and is now, I suppose, a rich man. This makes no apparent change in his way of life: he has only hired an additional Attic in Lincoln's Inn Fields, so as to be able to bed a friend upon occasion. I may have to fill it ere long. Merivale (you know, surely) is married, and has a son I hear. He lives some twenty miles from here. . . . Now, my dear Frederic, this is a sadly dull letter. I could have made it duller and sadder by telling you other things. But, instead of this, let

September 1851 me hear from you a good account of yourself and your family, and especially of my little Godson. Remember, I have a right to hear about him. Ever yours, dear old Grimsby, E.FG. 1 MS

missing. of EFG's "Singing in One Clef" is among his papers at Trinity College Library, Cambridge. 2 MS

To E. B. Cowell [Woodbridge ] [September 10,1851 ] Dear Cowell, I go to Ipswich (to the Hockley's) tomorrow—at about noon. I dare say I shall get a glimpse of you somehow: and on Friday we all tempt the brine together. "Hurrah for the Cork tree!"1 E.FG. 1 Alluding

to life preservers.

To Stephen Spring Rice [Boulge] Pmk., Sept. 27, 1851 My dear S. Rice, Your last letter was delightful to me; it was stupid of me not writing to you again, which I was perpetually intending. At last down comes P. Frere1—who tells me all about you—and that you really start for Madeira the beginning of October. All good go with you! I am really rejoiced you are going: for, even in my narrow acquaintance, I have known three persons quite set up for life by going there in good time— persons naturally very delicate, which you are not. Go and come back to us well. Frere told me I ought to go to town to see you—and the Exhibition! If I went, it would decidedly be for the first purpose. I may be wrong for not caring to see the Glass House: but you were wholly wrong, in your letter, supposing I refrained from going out of a love of singularity. On the contrary, my chief desire to go was for the very purpose of avoiding that appearance of singularity. But I have

September 1851

found three or four people of good sense, and whom no one can suspect of affectation of any kind, staying quietly at home all the time: so I shelter myself under their Authority, and take mine ease. As to seeing you and shaking hands with you before you start—I am sure I should only bore you in the hurry of departure by adding to the many who will press round you on this occasion. Besides, you are only going for a little pleasant trip—it is not as if you were off after Sir J. Franklin.2 You will come back with the Swallows, having passed an Elysian Winter while we are shivering and grumbling here. I hope the cart-mares P. Frere bought will answer. What a capital thing his farming! What a good off-set to College Life for himself, and what a good to the Community beside himself! I want to see Gentle­ men farm their lands; the Tenant farmers are such fools and Brutes they are not fit to be trusted with Earth or Animal—least of all with Man in the shape of Labourer. Nothing puts me in such a rage as hear­ ing a Gentleman who does farm offering to give up because "he lost £50 or £,100 last year" etc. As if, granting even the money to be lost, it were not as well lost as in one stupid London dinner!3 But it cannot be lost while Men have been justly employed, and "justissima Tellus" herself justly cultivated. Well—a sheet of paper is filled—and this corner shall suffice to repeat my warm wishes, dear Spring Rice, that Madeira will do for you all that your best friends wish. I know it will not seem beside the mark if I ask you to remember [me] to dear Mrs. Frere4 and her family —whom I never can forget. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 Philip

Frere, Spring Rice's brother-in-law. John Franklin (1786-1847), Arctic explorer, who disappeared on an expe­ dition, begun in 1845, to search for a northwest passage. 3In Polonius (1852), under "The Poor," EFG wrote: 2Sir

How often one hears an English gentleman (as good as any gentleman, how­ ever) mourning over the loss, as he calls it, of a hundred or two a year in farming his estate—so fine a business for an English gentleman! "It won't do— it won't pay—he must give it up," etc. Why, what do his fine houses, equipages, gardens, pictures, jewels, dinners, and operas, pay? "Oh, but there he has some­ thing to show for his money." And is a population of honest, healthy, happy English labourers—honest, healthy, and happy, because constantly employed by him, with proper wages, and not so much labour exacted of them as to turn a man into a brute—is not this something to show for your money? as good pictures, jewels, equipage, and music, as a man should desire? Not, however, to be bought wholly by money wages. 4 Philip

Frere's mother. See letter to F. Tennyson, [April 10, 1839], n.6.

October 1851

To Mr. and Mrs. E. B. Cowell Boulge, Monday [September 29, 1851] Dear Sir and Madam, What are your plans? I am left in doubt whether my sister Isabella be not coming today to stay with me till Friday; I must go over to Ipswich to see you before you leave it. Let me know your engagements. E.FG. All Smith's stock selling1—even now! 1 Job

Smith, the tenant farmer, who was giving up Boulge farm. Within a year the Smiths were living at Farlingay Hall on the outskirts of Woodbridge.

To Mrs. Cowell [Boulge ] [October 25,1851] My dear Lady, I have just returned from my trip, in which I neither did, nor saw, anything very wonderful. I was pleased to find young G. Crabbe living in a very peaceful, plain, way: without any snobbishness—content to be poor, and content that everyone should know it. I was much tempted to run to Lincoln from his place in Norfolk. It is true the days get short—but I believe there is no time like a fine autumn to see such places in. Such a Cathedral, with its old town, looking over a fifty mile horizon of waning woods! Why did I not go? Perhaps, I thought, next year we might go together: I should like to take a lodging in Lincoln for a week: and thence digress to see the County: but I want some direction as to where to go etc. You will flare up with a sudden expression of "How delightful it would be etc." The Smiths are gone; and tomorrow I shall miss them in their accus­ tomed place [in] Church. I have had half a dozen people here already complaining of the loss of them, and of the employment they gave. I enclose a note from Anna.1 Tell Cowell that, as Lamb once declared he had one admirer, so I was amused to find in a stray number of Chambers, that I have one imitator! At least so it seemed to me, in a paper about an Oxford Boat race—2 [Remainder of letter, about four lines, cut away]

November 1851 1

Job Smith's daughter. Evening by the Isis," Chambers Edinburgh Journal, Aug. 23, 1851, pp. 119-22. The essay, describing a bumping race, may well have been suggested by the closing passage in Euphranor. It is obviously the work of an undergraduate with limited literary power, the style stilted, the narrative technique, mechanical. 2 "An

To E. B. Cowell [Boulge] Pmk., Nov. 7,1851 My dear Cowell, Translate me the enclosed of Seneca's1 into Free English. It is from a passage giving an account of the mode of Conversation at Rome in his time: how conceited, etc. it was: very like that in London now: a true shadow of the Deeds of Men, as Words are said to be. Send me your translation soon as you can. I should much like to be at Oxford now—before, as you say, leaves and sunshine go. And did you ever know leaves so long taking their leaves? I declare the Elms and Oaks about here (in sheltered places) look as if they had yet a good month's lease of their green jackets. But (to revert to that which made me talk of trees at all) I am obliged to be here till the 24th—for G. Crabbe and his Wife are coming—on the 24th I go to Bedford to settle some money matters—in which (strange to say) Spedding is concerned! He is to become my Mortgagee, instead of a Bedford Lawyer: by which (without any loss to him—nay, with a little gain) I shall save some £20 a year—get a very little ready money to boot—and (what is my chief reason) leave my estate (such as it is) in the hands of a Gentleman, whether I live or die. I cannot tell you what it has been to me, after mixing with the Rascals and Fools and Blackguards of the three last years, once more to have to deal with a Gentleman! I mean, of course, a Gentleman in Soul. Maitland's comment on ZZZ2 makes one's flesh creep. I went about all yesterday practising it, and feeling how, if I did not bellow under an operation, I should mutter so. You see it is idiotic. Carlyle's Book3 is neither so good nor so bad as I expected. Not so bad in the enunciation of his own Dogmas: though one cannot fail to recognise them: not so good as a piece of Writing, I think. It seems careless and beats about the Bush a good deal. Do you know Luther's Commentary on that Psalm you quote—"I love that Psalm with all my Heart. It strikes and flashes valiantly

November 1851 amongst Kings, Counsellors, Judges etc. If I were as our Lord God, and had committed the government to my Son, as He to his Son, and these vile people were as disobedient as they now be, I would knock the World in pieces."4 I have heard Tennyson talk something like this in his grand days. Ever yours E.FG. 1

The passage from Seneca is missing. unsolved enigma. 3 The Life of John Sterling, written by Carlyle to balance the undue emphasis on the heterodoxy of his young friend found in Julius Hare's biographical intro­ duction to Sterling's Essays and Tales, published in 1848. Sterling had asked Hare and Carlyle to serve as his literary executors, but the two decided that Hare should assume "the whole task" of preparing the 1848 volume. 4 Tischreden VI, X.36, Zeile 7-12, Nr. 6553, Weimar edition, Der Werke Luthers. The quotation was reported by Johannes Aurifaber (c. 1519-75). 2 An

To Mrs. Cowell [Boulge] [c. Nov. 20,1851] My dear Lady,

I thought you were going to cut me. Thackeray's visit to you1 I heard from no less a person than Himself—in a few lines. On Monday next I must go to Bedford to meet Spedding and the Lawyers by long appointment: there I shall be till the end of the week. I am then going to London to attend to the business of an old College Friend,2 whose mind has got out of order: and I shall write to you thence about any further proceedings. Meantime if you or your wretched Husband have ought to say to me, direct to me during next week at W. R. Browne's Goldington Bedford Yes! Ask Cowell to send me an answer to the enclosed paper—concern­ ing which I will tell you by-and-bye. It is "private." Ah! you must not suppose I don't wish to go to Oxford. Rather, I don't wish to create a new want to go there. As to your Monday's party, I would rather meet Thackeray with you all alone—and at Bramford— Summer or Winter—in the little old Room of many Memories! But in

December 1851 order that I may contribute something to the entertainment I commend you to wear that famous (and Papistical-looking) Purple silk gown— seeing how I love all purples and lilacs. Thackeray is a noble Fellow —something of a Great Man. No doubt Cowell sees this: as for you, you call out "Hero!" too often. So I vent my spite—and am yours Fretful Fitz 1 Thackeray

gave his lectures, "The English Humourists," Monday and Tuesday evenings, November 17 to December 2, at Oxford. He lectured also at Cambridge, Friday and Saturday evenings of the same period. The Cowells entertained him on his arrival at Oxford and again at the close of the series. 2 Alexander Duncan.

To Mrs. Cowell 19 Charlotte St. FitzRoy Sq" London Dec r 1/51 My dear Lady,

Your husband has amply answered my queries—let him not write unless at all leisure. I am come back here (after settling my Mortgage with dear old Spedding) to see about another Mortgage here—be­ tween John and all of us—such people to have such dealings together! I seriously believe that if only myself were at stake, I should prefer to take my ease, and let all this take its chance in the Lawyer's hands: but I cannot leave my sisters in their hands. No one helps me. I make a great rout—get the outline of the whole—and, after all, do no good I believe. Beside this, I am to be very busy with an old College Friend— now gone crazy (perhaps I told you of him) whose wife will look to me for advice. On coming here today from Bedford, I find a great packet from her. I especially wanted a fortnight of mind-at-ease just now—but we cannot command these things. I shall certainly slip down to you for a day or two if I can. How can you doubt that it would be one of my greatest pleasures to be with you! So much so that, as I said, what partly withholds me is the dread of creating a fresh want. Spedding was so wise at Bedford—so beautiful—so delightful—not well—it seemed to me really as if the beauty of Death was upon him. May this be all nonsense.

December 1851 May not the οΰδ«ν άγαν1 be called Aristotle's Law of Virtue, pray ask Cowell: I mean that the too much of a good propensity leads to Evil etc.—but may one not express it as above? Farewell—ever yours E.FG. 1 "Nothing

in excess."

To Mrs. Cowell [London] [December 5,1851 ] My dear Lady,

Thanks for your Note and Letter. What with Lawyers at Lincoln's Inn, and my mad friend at Bayswater, and visits to make to Fathers, Mothers, and Brothers, in different parts of Middlesex and Surrey, I really have plenty of small work to do—none of it, I am sorry to say, of the pleasantest. Well—there are amends. I have had two evenings with Spedding the Wise—and one with Thackeray the Witty. The latter I thought not look­ ing well. He spoke with great pleasure of seeing you: but he was tired after his Lecture, and would have been glad to have sat with you two alone. I must tell you while it flies across my brain that Captain Brooke is going to be married—to a Miss Duff,1 a niece of Lord Rendlesham's —sister, I think, of Mrs. Tollemache's. So Brooke announced in a note to Crabbe three days ago. Cowell will say "Why, dear me"—without much Wonder—so I do not add a note of admiration to what I suppose he is to utter. I doubt he thinks too much of Parabolas etc. to wonder at any marriage Brooke might make. He should not occupy himself so with abstruse things. When my Mother once asked a Maid if she did not like to look at the Stars, she said, "No—she thought it was wicked to consider them too much." Tomorrow I am going to Richmond to see my Brother: and by the way am to call on Alfred the Poet with Spedding. Somehow I have no curiosity to see him any more. When I can see my way, through Law and my poor Friend's dis­ tresses, I shall know of my movements. You cannot imagine how much rather I would be with you at Oxford than here, as I am, or in any condition!

December 1851 You did not tell me about the ούδεν άγαν—which may apply to Cowell's Parabolas as well as Aristotle's Virtues. Ever yours E.FG. 1 A step-daughter, not a niece, of Lord Rendlesham. Her sister Eliza had mar­ ried John Tollemache, later Baron, the preceding year. Lord Rendlesham had married the girls' mother, Elizabeth, widow of James Duff, only son of General Sir James Duff.

To Frederick Tennyson [19 Charlotte St.] [December, 1851 ] My dear old Frederic,

I have long been thinking I would answer a long and kind letter I had from you some weeks ago, in which you condoled with me about my finances, and offered me your house as a Refuge for the Destitute. I can never wonder at generosity in you: but I am sorry I should have seemed to complain so much as to provoke so much pity from you. I am not worse off than I have been these last three years; and so much better off than thousands who deserve more that I should deserve to be kicked if I whined over my decayed fortunes. If I go to Italy, it will be to see Florence and Fred. Tennyson: I do not despair of going one day: I believe my desire is gathering, and my indolence warming up with the exhilarating increase of Railroads. But for the present here I am, at 19 Charlotte Street, Fitzroy Square, come up to have a fresh squabble with Lawyers, and to see to an old College friend who is gone mad, and threatens to drive his wife mad too, I think. Here are troubles, if you like: I mean, these poor people's. Well, I have not had much time except to post about in Omnibi be­ tween Lincoln's Inn and Bayswater: but I have seen Alfred once; Carlyle once; Thackeray twice; and Spedding many times. I did not see Mrs. A.: but am to go and dine there one day before I leave. Carlyle has been undergoing the Water System at Malvern, and says it has done him a very little good. He would be quite well, he says, if he threw his Books away, and walked about the mountains: but that would be "propter vitam, etc." Nature made him a Writer: so he must wear himself out writing Lives of Sterling, etc., for the Benefit of the World. Thackeray says he is getting tired of being witty, and of the

December 1851 great world: he is now gone to deliver his Lectures at Edinburgh: having already given them at Oxford and Cambridge. Alfred, I thought looking pretty well. Spedding is immutably wise, good, and delightful: not so immutably well in Body, I think: though he does not complain. But I will deal in no more vaticinations of Evil. I cant think what was the oracle in my Letters you allude to, I mean about the three years' duration of our lives.1 I have long felt about England as you do, and even made up my mind to it, so as to sit comparatively, if ignobly, easy on that score. Sometimes I envy those who are so old that the curtain will probably fall on them before it does on their Country. If one could save the Race, what a Cause it would be! not for one's own glory as a member of it, nor even for its glory as a Nation: but because it is the only spot in Europe where Freedom keeps her place. Had I Alfred's voice, I would not have mumbled for years over In Memoriam and the Princess, but sung such strains as would have revived the Μut, as I remember, of true English Breed, quite suited to the pathetic vords it went to. However, you shall have it to judge of directly I can ;et it. In talking of words to these English Tunes, I will say that it seems to ne a great pity that when the old original words, or something at all

June 1852 equivalent, is available, your clever coadjutor4 does not avail himself of them. It struck me as a mistake (I dare say attributable to the Pub­ lishers, who will go with the stream of PubKc taste) that so many of the Songs (meaning the Words) in your present Edition ran upon what the Germans call "subjective" feeling, and that too of one kind, suited chiefly to mere Ladies and Gentlemen; and that so few were "objective"; such as stories, Ballads, scraps of narrative, supposed to be uttered, with variety of Human Naivete, or Pathos, by other than Ladies and Gentlemen—by Country People, Soldiers, Sportsmen, etc. This not only produces monotony, but really alters and injures the character of many old Tunes which really are characteristic of the var­ ious Times and habits of Thought from which they arose. I was struck by this in Dr. Mackay's song to the Tune of "The King shall enjoy his own again," etc., where, though the subject was alike, the very regu­ larity and greater elegance of modern versification and thought was not of a piece with the rollicking Cavalier Tune. I could not see why the humorous and quaint Cavalier words (with perhaps a little amend­ ment) should not have been retained. As I had scarce anything to do with the words of the "Forester," I may say that I think those words will suit the old Tune better (I be­ lieve ) than some aspiration about an Evening Star, or Evening Bell, or Evening Gun, fitted for a modern young Lady at a rose-wood Piano­ forte. There is a little Story; some dramatic variety of Character; really an old copy of verses, perhaps coeval with the Tune, though never yet married to it. As Goethe said, nothing is now so hard as to make a modern Ballad; just because people now felt within, instead of simply seeing without. So as I think one should retain what one can of any such old Ballads as were at least of the age of the old Tunes, and arose at least out of a kindred spirit of invention. As to the simplicity—not to say silliness—of some of the old Songs, I am sure the last thing a Song should be is, to be wise. What are all burdens? The Thought should be as simple as possible; and Argument of all kind avoided. Even Moore5 overdid his Songs, not with Argument indeed, but with Fancy, the due understanding of which interfered with the easy flow of Attention which was due chiefly to the Ears. The old name of the "Twisting of the Rope" seems to indicate something more of the Spirit of the Tune than the lovely words he has set to it. But he took care, in his Irish Melodies, to avail himself of any legends of the Country, of any objective interest in short to vary the subjects of his Songs. As to the polite singers not liking the old words relating to the habits

June 1852 and thoughts of simple people, Country people, etc., (to whom the Tunes are so natural and with whom they have survived) who that remembers Miss Stephens and Miss Tree6 in Auld Robin Gray—yes, and even such delicate feeling as "We're a'noddin " will not confess that excellent music may be discoursed that way? I am ashamed to have run on thus to you—when I ought to have done so (if it were to be done at all) to Dr. Mackay—whom I do not the less think a very clever man. I will perhaps make you some amends by noting down an air which an old musician at Norwich used to declare was HandeTs—Is it not more like Arne?7 Whosoever it be, it seems to me well worth preserva­ tion and acknowledgment: especially the four last bars. I will also note down a fragment from the same quarter—of quaint rhythm, to be sure, but a theme (it seems to me) that Handel could well have used in some grotesque Cyclopean Chorus. If I can be of further use to you, I shall be at home—Boulge, Woodbridge, in a fortnight—and am yours very truly Edwd FitzGerald 1 send the melodies of the tunes only—for easy reasons, to a musician like Sir H. Bishop.8 1Sir Henry Rowley Bishop (1786-1855), composer, conductor, and producer, who held the chair of music at Oxford University. See the first of two letters to the East Anglian, July, 1861. 2 Identified by R. H. Groome, "How many still remember kind and civil Baxter, the harness-maker opposite Trinity; and how many of them ever heard him sing his famous song of 'Poor Old Horse'?" (Two Suffolk Friends, p. 15). 3 Groome's eldest daughter had died of scarlet fever, and others in his family were threatened by it. 4Dr. Charles Mackay (1814-89), who adapted the words of old English songs for Bishop's arrangements. 5 Thomas Moore, who wrote the verses for Bishop's three volumes, National Melodies. 6Catherine Stephens (1794-1882), soprano, and Anna Maria Tree (1802-62), mezzo-soprano, operatic favorites noted for their singing of old English ballads. 7Thomas Augustine Arne (1710-78). 8 On July 29, Bishop wrote to Mackay: "I think it as well to inclose you the 'crotchety' letter I received from Mr. FitzGerald, with the air, and a 'fragment.' I do not believe either of them to be by Handel. Mr. FitzGerald seems at all events to be friendly; though his arguments are to be taken 'cum grano' etc." On August 25, Bishop wrote: "I send you the 'Poor Old Horse' scrap, which I have at last received from Mr. FitzGerald" (Brit. Mus.—Add. 29,905,f.61).

June 1852

To Mrs. Cowell Goldington, Bedford, June 26/52 My dear Lady,

Being quite afraid of writing to that plus and minus1 husband of yours (who wouldn't let me go and see him, when I was conscientiously deter­ mined to do so) I must plague you again. And what to say? Only that I have delayed here thus long in hopes of some fair weather to see Lincoln in—was all ready to be off this morning: when lo! a determined rain. So I am prevailed on to wait till Monday; when (come what will) I will go. When I get to Lincoln, I shall see whether I am to get on to York, and home by steam from Hull to Yarmouth. But all this will depend on steam-boats etc. offerings. Anyhow, I shall be at Boulge by the second week in July: and as you told me in your last that Monsieur Plus-et-minus was anxious to get back to his old County, perhaps we shall meet before long. You will come and stay with me at Boulge? Yes: and I have bought a thick Volume of Spanish Ballads, and that Senior edition2 of three Calderon plays—which I begin to nibble at alone, and which I shall hope to attack more substantially with Plus et minus. I have been most de­ lighted with Niebuhr's Life and Letters: 3 1 believe I shall have to buy it: and we will read it at Boulge. This is the only sensible book I have read—for months! I might almost say. Well—goodbye Monsieur et Madame "Plus et minus". I should think this joke is already becoming a bore—so no more from Yoms ever E.FG. It has cleared up since I sat down to write—but it is all over for Lincoln today. 1 Suggested

by Cowell's mathematical studies. Comedias Escogidas . . . El Mdgico Prodigioso, La Vida es Sueno, El Principe Constante, C. and H. Senior, 1837. 3 Life and Letters of Barthold G. Niebuhr, Susanna Winkworth, ed. and trans., 3 vols., 1851-52. 2

July 1852

To Stephen Spring Rice Boulge, Woodbridge July 10/52 Iy dear Spring Rice, A little man, Maclean, of the Woodbridge Custom House, told me ou had lately been down in these parts. Why did you not let me know f your coming? True, I was away from home just at the time: but your aming might very likely have made the cup of run-home-a-tiveness in over etc. You could really have come to this Cottage, and been Dnveyed by pony gig to the scene of your duties whensoever you hose. "Don't let this occur again, Sir." As it is, I have only just returned from a stay in Bedfordshire, which 'as closed by a five days' tour in Lincoln and Yorkshire: just to see jmething of the face of those Counties, and their Minsters. I came ack by Hull (where I drank some of the best Port, by way of preparaon for the Steamboat) and so by night crossed Sea to Yarmouth. I was leaving my Mother's house at Ham, just as you returned to ,ondon: (as I heard by the merest chance). I might even have got a limpse of you perhaps if I had ventured down to your Father's in Westminster. But I get terribly shy of any strange place: which is iteresting. I wish you would write me a line to say how you are. (N.B. I had eard in London you were well. But tell me so "ipse".) Tell me also bout Wife and Children: and of dear Mrs. Frere. I call that little Mr. Maclean Gama,1 because he airs a neat little nger like the Monarch in that fine Poem. But I don't know if the name ill strike you as particularly fit. Farewell. This is a poor letter indeed: but you need only tell me how ou and yours are in reply. Do so, my dear S.R. and believe me Yours ever E.FG. could have written more had anything but a Steel pen come to hand. 1 King

Gama in Tennyson's Princess, "airing a snowy hand and signet gem."

July 1852

To Mrs. and Mr. E. B. Cowell [Boulge] Pmk., July 21,1852 Dear Cowells, I was very glad to have your note this morning. I thought you had forgot me. I will order a fowl to be killed: so as if any of you drive over "toward the end of the week" (as you talk of) you shall at least have that to eat: if you want more, you must have the Parrot—if more, the Cat: if more still, Ginger—if most of all, Mrs. Faiers. But always write beforehand: else I may be gone out. When you come, we will arrange about your grand visit here. Mrs. Smith too is looking out for you: she talks of going out for a visit ere long: so as you must come and arrange with her. Yesterday I assisted in burying Squire Jenney:1 whom the better half of Cowell remembers. The worse half has seen his house. I cannot go over to Ipswich today, because I am going to see Miss Jenney. But if you do not come here, I must go to Ipswich. About the Beginning of August, I and Crabbe are going to stay a day with Jackson:2 to have a day of Assizes, and a walk to Wherstead. N.B. I have been reading the Cid Romances so as to get up a smat­ tering of Spanish, and so as to read a play of Calderon with Mr. Plus et minus. I wanted very much to begin "II Magico" the other day, but have reserved it that we may fall to together. Also I am reading Virgil's Georgics, with a translation by the Revd. G. Cobbold, who calls the Carycius Senex "a frugal swain"! I say what an inveteracy of Cobboldism that one expression discloses. Monsieur et Madame Plusetminus, Je suis votre tres humble Serviteur E.FG. Do not forget my kind regards to all your Party. 1 Edmund Jenney, EFG's old family friend, died July 13. "Miss Jenney" was Anne, the Squire's sister. 2 Publisher of the Ipswich Journal.

To E. B. Cowell Boulge, Saturday [July 24,1852] Two beautiful fowls—the pride of Mrs. Faiers' heart—have this after­ noon been sent away to Mr. Crabbe's, because no Cowell came to eat

August 1852 them. But I write now to say that I must be engaged (as I believe) Tuesday, and Thursday—in the Evening, at least, so come not then. Will you come o'Wednesday, or shall I go to you? If you come o'Monday, there will be only cheese to eat—good wine and Scotch Ale. E.FG.

To W. B. Donne Boulge August 10/52

My dear Donne, It is very good of you to write to me—so much as you have to do. I am much obliged to you also for taking the trouble to go and see my Mother. You may rely on it she feels as pleased with your company as she says she is: I do not know any one who has the power of being so agreeable to her as yourself. And dear old Thackeray is really going to America! I must fire him a letter of farewell. The Cowells are at Ipswich, and I get over to see them, etc. They talk of coming here too. I have begun again to read Calderon with Cowell—the Magico we have just read—a very grand thing. I sup­ pose Calderon was over-praised some twenty years ago: for the last twenty it has been the fashion to underpraise him, I am sure. His Drama may not be the finest in the world: one sees how often too he wrote in the fashion of his time and Country: but he is a wonderful Fellow—one of the Great Men of the world. I wish, in your Book huntings, you could tell me of a good Calderon: I mean, a good Edition with a large wholesome type. I know the new Four Volume Edition now afloat:1 but I would get one of larger print if [ could, and would not mind, I believe, paying well for it. I do not at this hour recollect any secretary such as you talk of. What a find it would be to hundreds! I had a very nice letter from Charles a Fortnight ago. Farewell, my dear Donne. You know how glad we should be if you would come here: but you have plenty of places that call for you. Ever yours, E.FG. That "beggarly old Priest"2 and I went to stay a day with old S. Jackson at Ipswich a week ago.

August 1852 1

Las Comedias de D. Pedro Calderon, ed., Juan Jorge KeiI, 4 vols., 1830, the edition EFG decided to use. 2 George Crabbe of Bredfield.

To Mrs. Cowell [Boulge] [August 12,1852] My dear Lady, I have seen Anna Smith,1 who tells me you talk of not coming into these parts till the week after next. Is this all so? You or Plusetminus must give me one line: for why?—because if you won't come next week, I may perchance go over for two days to R. Groome's. He will be in Ipswich on Tuesday. Tell Cowell I am now reading Vida es Sueflo— with great pleasure: marking many passages for his illumination. E.FG. 1

Daughter of Job Smith.

To E. B. Cowell Male-Bolge,1 Saturday [August 14,1852] This is to give notice. I may go over to Ipswich on Monday: and stay till Tuesday: when R. Groome is to be there, who wants to carry me back to Soham. I am thick in the Vida:2 but have marked many pas­ sages which floor me. E.FG. 1

Malebolge, the eighth circle in Infemo in Dante's Divine Comedy. Calderon's Vida Es Sueno1 which EFG later translated as Such Stuff as Dreams are Made of. 2

To E. B. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge Octr 3/52 My dear Cowell, Thank you for the Calderon: which I will enquire about at Woodbridge. Are you sure it is a complete Edition—warranted? I have found

October 1852 Donne's Volume quite sufficient; good type to read: being very distinct if not very large: and certainly wonderfully correct. As you have been such a promoter of my Spanish (as indeed of all my other) studies, I must tell you what I have been doing in my inaccurate way. I have read (in that way) the Cisma d'Inghilterra (which is not much worth reading: with a fine opening dream of Henry VIII, and a pretty bit when Bolseo when in disgrace and poverty happens upon Queen Catalina in the Country). 2. Las Cadenas del Demonio (not worth reading). 3. Un Castigo en Tres Venganzas. 4. Las Tres Justicias en Una.1 (Both of which are good plays but not remarkable.) 5. La Desdicha de la Voz (a very elegant, pure, and most ingenious, comedy— yet one which I shall scarce want to read again, I believe: for I scarce care about these ingenious love perplexities. But you must read it). And, lastly, the "Pintor de su Deshonra"2—a very grand play. I cannot remember if this was one you told me of: surely it was the "Medico de su Honra" you spoke of? When I call the "Pintor" a very fine play, I mean very fine in respect of plot, incident etc. I cannot be sure if the poetry be better than Heywood, Massinger, and a host of our earlier playwrights. But, without further analysis at present, this Pintor is the one of all I have read by myself which I shall want to read again. I copy you out one bit from it: and also an elegant song from the Desdicha. I am now reading the "Castillo de Lindabridis"—a pretty masque, with a very good Gracioso3 in it. When I talk of my "inaccurate" way of reading, you understand it to be that I am not distrest when I find a bit of conventional wit in the Clown, or some conceit in the Lover, which I do not understand: I do not give so much patience (nor, what is more valuable to me, so much eyesight) as you would to puzzle it out. I have not yet found in Calderon much that, being obscure, was worth much pains to clear up: not, I mean, such things as one finds in Shakespeare—which are worth clearing up. But I believe I get a pretty correct understanding of the whole : plot and dialogue too. Now Goodbye. E.FG. 1 Translated

by EFG as Three Judgments at a Blow. The Painter of his own Dishonour. 3 A stock buffoon in Spanish drama. 2 EFG's

October 1852 To Ε. Β. Cowell Boulge OcV 11152 My dear Cowelli I have heard nothing of the Calderon you talked of sending: let me know if it was sent, that we may find out where the hitch is if possible. If it be not sent yet, I could wish you would not send it yet, but keep it with you, and help me in certain difficulties. For I have got Donne's copy (which he would send) for the present at least, and am looking over some of the plays—though not so carefully as perhaps I ought. I give a general physiognomical look at a play, and if I don't care for that, I don't waste more eyesight on it. I wrote you about some plays: and I will tell you now that "Guardate de la Agua Mansa"1 is a very pretty comedy: with less intrigue than the rest, and therefore more agreeable to me; it looks to me like a "piece de Circonstance", made to enclose an account of some Royal Marriage between the Houses of Spain and Austria, which I am not Historian enough to know or care about. But the play is very agreeable: I like all the Compliment of these plays. I looked over the "Secreto Agravio" which seems far in­ ferior to my "Pintor"—written less in Calderon's prime: this and the "Nina de Gomez Arias" must be true stories, I think. I did not greatly care for the latter: though it has very good things in it. The "Castel di Lindabridis" is not worth reading. But you will smile when I tell you that (after all my protestations to the contrary) I am translating all the "Pintor"! But the truth is, it is a domestic tragedy: of no great lyrical flight: and can properly be run into such blank verse and prose as Heywood etc. I can't make it so good as Heywood: but I can make a very readable—nay (I believe) a good play out of it. Now, if you have a copy of Calderon with you, I want you to help me with some passages—in especial, the first Scene of the Second Jornada, where the Pintor's philosophy of Beauty and Portrait painting is not quite clear to me. The play is so good that you will like to read it: very easy: with scarce any rot in it: altogether in Calderon's best style. I wish you would let me know about this. I shall go shortly to Ipswich and get the Well of Clisson.2 Yours ever E.FG. 1 Translated 2 One

by EFG as Beware of Smooth Water. of Elizabeth Cowell's poems.

October 1852

To Ε. Β. Cowell Boulge Oct. 14/52 My dear Cowell, The Books came this morning: they have been lying, I think, at a Railroad Inn at Woodbridge: where I do not usually call for smaller parcels, which generally come by Coach. This parcel however came by the Goods Train—of its final disposal we will talk hereafter. I wish you had a Volume with you: to read the Pintor: which I want your help in. Can't you and won't you find one at Oxford? Do. I do not say the Secreto Agravio is not a good play: did I?—but not so good as the Pintor, or the Alcalde which I made an acquaintance with: though not so intimate as it will be. These two are in Calderon's prime, no doubt. What an advantage getting away from foreign heroes to his own Spanish ground! I have also read the "Medico"—which is only not quite so good as these two. I will (if I live) translate all three very well: do you not think they would make a good Volume of Spanish Life and Manners: and also of Calderon's Genius? I wonder who would buy and print such a Volume? Spite of all that Brooke etc. say, I should really like to go to Spain. I will give all your messages (i.e. the messages of her who dwells in the Castillo de Lindabridis) in due time. Yours, E.FG.

To George Crabbe of Merton Bury October 20/52 My dear George, I ought to have answered your letter before: but it was only two days ago that I myself knew what play Mrs. K[emble] would read:1 a question to which you also wanted an answer. Richard the III. Not the play I should have chosen: nor one, I think, likely to draw. But so it falls to us in her routine; and, were it even of any use to ask her to alter it, I hardly would bother her. She has very good reasons for sticking to

October 1852 her plan, and trouble enough (that apart) in meeting people's wishes. She reads at Ipswich twice directly after Woodbridge, and altogether I cannot expect much of an Audience. But (as she really is a noble woman, much bothered)21 should certainly not have scrupled to give her £,20 (had she needed it) for no reading at all: and I certainly shall not quarrel with losing half the sum, while I show her some At­ tention, do her some good, and please some people beside. You see by my date I am not far off you, and were I sure you were at home, I might run to Thetford one day. But your last note spoke of your going to some friends near Newmarket, I think: and so I shall spend my time here wholly with my dear Donne: who shares with Spedding my oldest and deepest love. He returns to his London Library on Friday:3 and I shall return to Boulge—to arrange for Mrs. K., etc. We are going to walk to Ickworth: Donne to see Lord Jermyn,4 and I to look perhaps at the pictures—certainly not to look at my Lord. Farewell, E.FG. 1 In 1845 Fanny KembIe had returned to England from America and in 1847, after a lapse of thirteen years, resumed her career in the theater. The following year she abandoned the stage to give readings of Shakespeare's plays, each cut to provide a two-hour program. Her repertoire included 24 plays offered in fixed rotation. The Woodbridge reading, Wednesday, October 27, she reported later, "was an occasion of some embarrassment to me, for when I came on the platform and curtseyed to my audience, Mr. FitzGerald got up and bowed to me, and his example being immediately followed by the whole room, I was not a little sur­ prised, amused, and confused" (Further Records, 2 vols., II, 166). 2 Her husband, Pierce Butler of Philadelphia, had obtained a divorce in Septem­ ber, 1849, on grounds of abandonment, and had retained charge of their two daughters. Incompatibility was essentially responsible for the breach. Fanny was a spirited woman of independent mind whom her husband had sought to dominate. 3 John Cochrane, librarian of the London Library since its founding in 1841, had died in the spring. Donne, one of 11 considered for the post from among more than 200 candidates, was named Cochrane's successor in June and served until he became Examiner of Plays in 1857. He occupied rooms at the library, 12 St. James's Square, during his term of office; his family did not join him there until 1854, when the lease on his house at Bury expired. 4Frederick William Hervey (1769-1859), Marquis of Bristol and Earl Jermyn, of Ickworth Park, about four miles from Bury.

October 1852 To Ε. Β. Cowell Boulge October 23/43 [1852]1 My dear Cowell,

I shall send you the passage in the Pintor of which I cannot make good Argument. Don Juan is painting his Wife Serafina, and, as he paints, says he despairs of making a just likeness. She asks "Why so?" He answers. Juan:

Ser:

Escucha por que. De la gran naturaleza son no mas que imitadores (vuelve un poco) Ios pintores; y asi, cuando su destreza forma una rara belleza de perfection singular, no es facil de retratar; porque como su poder tuvo en ella mas que hacer, da en ella m£s que imitar. Demas, que en una atencion imprime cualquier objeto con mas sefias un defeto, mi bien, que una perfecci0n; y como sus partes son mas tratables, se asegura la fealdad en la pintura; y asi, con facilidad se retrata una fealdad primero que una hermosura. Confieso, espose, que eso sera en Io perfecto asi; pero no conviene en mi la razon.

Juan: X

Yo Io confieso tambiSn; que es tanto el exceso de tu hermosura, que aun esta disculpa no Io es.

Ser:

Dispuesta a oir la raz0n estoy, ya que dicho el desaire estd.

October 1852 Juan:

No esta, si oyes la respuesta. Deste arte la obligaci0n (mirame ahora, y no te rias) es sacar las simetrias, que medida, proporci0n y correspondencia son de la faction; y aunque ha sido mi estudio, he reconocido que no puedo desvelado haberlas yo imaginado como haberlas tii tenido. Luego si en su perfection la imaginaci0n exceden, mal hoy Ios pinceles pueden seguir la imagination.

I have written my argument in pencil:2 so as you may write over it in pen if you will supply me with more light. It is possible I may mis­ take the meaning of the words underlined* on the opposite page: and look for an answer from Juan which he does not pledge himself to give. I wish you would send me this as soon as you can: for I want to have done with the translation—and I do not like to be thrown out by this one bit in one of the best parts of the play. The play is the Best of the Sort I have seen—though I delight in the Alcalde too. Some of the Soldiers' slang in that I will refer to you. I have been to Bury for some days to see Donne. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 EFG must have been wool-gathering. Both the contents and the postmark confirm 1852. 2 Not found with MS.

From W. M. Thackeray October 27, 1852 My dearest.old Friend, I mustn't go away without shaking your hand,1 and saying Farewell and God Bless you. If anything happens to me, you by these presents must get ready the Book of Ballads2 which you like, and which I had not time to prepare before embarking on this Voyage. And I should

November 1852 like my daughters to remember that you are the best and oldest friend their Father ever had, and that you would act as such: as my literary executor and so forth. My Books would yield a something as copy­ rights: and, should anything occur I have commissioned friends in good place to get a Pension for my poor little wife. I should have insured my Life but for a complaint which I am told increases the an­ nual payment so much that it is not worth the premium. Does not this sound gloomily? Well: who knows what Fate is in store: and I feel not at all downcast, but very grave and solemn just at the brink of a great voyage. I shall send you a copy of Esmond tomorrow or so which you shall yawn over when you are inclined. But the great comfort I have in thinking about my dear old boy is that recollection of our Youth when we loved each other as I do now while I write Farewell. Laurence has done a capital head of me ordered by Smith the Pub­ lisher: and I have ordered a copy and Lord Ashburton another. If Smith gives me this one, I shall send the copy to you. I care for you as you know and always like to think that I am fondly and affection­ ately yours W. Μ. T. I sail from Liverpool on Saturday Morning by the Canada for Boston. 1 Thackeray sailed from Liverpool on October 30 and spent six months lecturing in America. 2 See letter to Thackeray, April 13, 1852.

To Stephen Spring Rice Boulge, Woodbridge Nov. 5/52 My dear Spring Rice,

Give me a line to say how you are. I hear from nobody. Sometimes the papers tell me about a friend: as in Morton's case. Didn't he die in Character?11 had the kindest letter from dear old Thackeray the other day—just as he was going to America. I was ashamed of its kindness. Do you know I burned some fifty letters of his written near twenty years ago for the sole reason that I was ashamed to look at them. What you wrote to me about the Spanish Women dancing, and also some things I have been reading in Calderon give me a sort of desire

November 1852 to go to Spain—where however I probably never shall go. I would certainly rather see it than Italy. I should like to hear a word about dear Mrs. Frere. I did hear of her at the Norwich Festival: I mean from someone who sat beside her (I was not there). It was reported she liked Dr. Bexfield's Roratorio:2 and I know the way in which she murmur'd "Bravo" every now and then. We have been having Mrs. F. Kemble to read to us down here: I only liked Falconbridge of all I heard: which put me in mind of her Father, and Jacky in his youthful days. She called out so loud for a horse in Richard that little Mr. Maclean hasn't recovered [from] it yet. He jump'd like a pea on a trencher. What a sprawl of a letter! What scraps of inanity! Only tell me that you and yours are well: which is all I deserve. Yours ever, E. FitzGerald 1 Saville Morton had been stabbed to death in Paris on October 1. See Bio­ graphical Profile. 2William R. Bexfield (1824-53), organist and composer. His oratorio, "Israel Restored," had been given at the Norwich Festival on September 22.

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge Nov r 9/52 My dear Lady, Anna Smith's wedding1 was the only really pleasant wedding I ever was at. All was cheerful, liberal, and peaceful. At eight o'clock Crabbe and I started in a fly to Farlingay:2 each of us in his best clothes, with as gay a nosegay as the gardens afforded: arrived at Farlingay, we took up the Bridegroom and Mrs. Smith (the Bride going on with Anna Biddell and Phoebe Knight as Bridesmaids in another carriage before) and so trundled, she half smiles and half tears, and he as happy as man could be, to Otley: where Tayler3 met us: read the Service excellently: a little Robin percht aloft somewhere in the Roof sang out cheerily just when it was over: and when we went home to Farlingay, there was a good substantial lunch: in the midst of which bride and groom went off: she giving us an honest old fashioned Eng­ lish kiss all round: and jolly Anna Biddell flinging an old shoe after the carriage. Since then, I have been to Sofy Crabbe's4 wedding—on the 27th ult:

November 1852 a very quiet affair: the poor people of the village showing still how well they loved their Parson and his family by a good display of flowers—many to look and take off their hats and drop courtesies as we all went in and out of Church: and the discharge of some guns when the happy Couple rolled away. Enough of these festivities—which you asked to hear about. Besides which Mrs. Kemble has been here to read to us, which you would not care to hear of. In talking of which however I must say I have finished translating the Pintor—fairly to my satisfaction: and (having made some alterations) sent it to Donne, who is going to show it to C. Kean:5 who might act it with effect, I believe: but, I suppose, won't. If he won't, why I must one day print that, the Alcalde, La Devocion de la Cruz, and one or two more in a cheap volume: the more heroic ones that require lyrical measures and a higher poetical power than I possess, I shall not meddle with. Tell Cowell that "Luis Perez, el Gallego" is a capital play: a sort of Spanish Rob Roy: evidently a true story. I am now translating the Alcalde de Zalamea into prose: though it would do in rhymed Hudibrastic verse. I want his help for some passages: but can wait till I see him at some idle time. Order and Buy "Old Roads and New Roads" Is. —A Railway book by Donne: which he wrote, he says, at odd moments on the backs of odd Letters: and which is consequently the best thing he has done, and quite a delightful little book. I would send it you: nay, I will send it you: so don't order: for yourselves, at least: though recommend it to others. Farewell: let Cowell write when he is not busy: but not before. Yours ever E.FG. 1 She

married Alfred Ling, farmer of Otley, Suffolk. Smith and his family had recently taken possession of Farlingay Hall. 3 Charles B. Tayler, Rector of Otley, 1846-74. 4 Daughter of George Crabbe of Bredfield. 5Charles Kean (1811P-68), actor-manager at the Princess's Theater, 1850-59. See letter to Mrs. Cowell, Nov. 20. 2 Job

To W. B. Donne Pmk., Woodbridge November 10,1852 I must write a line to say how delighted I am with your Book.1 As is usual, directly I had sent to Crabbe for his copy, Loder sends me

November 1852 mine—and I assure you it consoled me for a cold caught in going to Woodbridge in this beastly November drip. I have marked many pas­ sages; I particularly like the account of the Highway man, the old Inns and Coaches, tie stop we should come to if Railroads, etc., ceased of a sudden. And these are independent of the good stories and ex­ tracts from other people that come in, and are so agreeably strung together. This little Book shows you have now got easy use of all your good material; a freedom (of language at least) which I used to think you missed in some earlier writings. But perhaps that was from thinking yourself obliged to ride this high horse for grave work, and reviews. I always thought that some such opening as this would let the good blood that was in you run more freely, and I hope you will now write several more such books, in as great a hurry and on the backs of as many letters as you can. Many little errors can be corrected afterwards: all is got, if "go" is got. I will now exercise my vocation as "Fitzdennis" on one page (107), which is so good that I want to get two words, or else my apprecia­ tion of them, right, that I may read it with unmingled pleasure. I don't understand, or else don't like roads "reared" upon piles, etc.2 I may not understand that the old Roman Roads were really reared up in air above the level, etc., but is there not some word between reared and laid that would do for all roads? In the same page I want another word for the radii of peaceful communication being "executed' which applies to roads, but is too cumbrous for the mathematical radius.3 These are very trifles: which I should not notice but that I want what is good to be perfect. The sentence about Sydney Smith's wit and wisdom is very good. I shall send a notice of this Book, with some extracts, to the "Ipswich Journal"4 and mention your name unless you dislike my doing so, but I suppose your being the author is so well known to many, that it may as well be to all. However if you dislike this I won't. Don't answer all these letters, I could not help writing this. Yours ever affectionately E.FG. 1 Old

Roads and New Roads, just published. wrote: "The great works of antiquity . . . are too often the Monuments of human toil, privation and death. But the roads of our more fortunate times are not cemented with the tears of myriads, nor reared upon piles of bleached bones." 8 Hie passage reads: "The great radii of peaceful communication have been 2Donne

November 1852 executed by willing hands, and a fair day's wages has been the recompense of a fair day's work." 4EFG's review, Ipswich Journal, Dec. 4, reads: "This very pleasant volume, the first of a railway-reading series, and so well fitted to be so, will be found equally acceptable at home, to those who do not travel at all. The subject—a rapid sketch of roads, and the modes of travelling on them, from those Assyrian and Egyptian covered causeways down to the rail on which the book is to be read— is a very happy one . . . and it is here treated with learning, fancy, humour, and feeling . . . the book is understood to be written by Mr. Donne, of Bury St. Ed­ mund's, who . . . here introduces some of those excellent East Anglian anecdotes that help to make his fireside one of the pleasantest in England. In another edition . . . we hope he will give us some more of them; nay, why not another whole volume, whether for rail or not, of local anecdote which should not be lost, and which no man can record better than himself?"

To W. M. Thackeray Boulge, Woodbridge Novr: 15/52 My dearest old Thackeray,

I had your note1—I dare scarce read it as it lies in my desk. It affects me partly as those old foolscap letters did, of which I told you I burned so many this spring: and why: I was really ashamed of their kindness! If ever we get to another world, you will perhaps know why all this is so. I must not talk anymore of what I have so often tried to explain to you. Meanwhile, I truly believe there is no Man alive loves you (in his own way of love) more than I do. Now you are gone out England, I can feel something of what I should feel if you were dead: I sit in this seedy place and read over Bouillabaisse2 till I cry again. This really is so: and is poor work: were you back again, I should see no more of you than before. But this is not from want of love on my part: it is because we live in such different worlds: and it is almost painful to me to tease anybody with my seedy dullness, which is just bearable by myself. Life every day seems a more total failure and mess to me: but it is yet bearable: and I am become a sad Epicurean—just desirous to keep on the windy side of bother and pain. I have a kind of sublime letter from dear old Fred: Tennyson about Morton: a kind of sublime sorrow and pity. The old fellow really believes that the better men will meet in another world under their own vine and figtree, in an atmosphere pure of Cloud, and talk over the joys and sorrows of this anterior life, as of a journey past, in cheer­ ful converse, over moderate cups. Morton, he thinks, could only grow

November 1852 a more gigantic Rebel against Good Morals if he grew immortal, and he wishes him Eternal Rest! What a thing it would be if we could be sure, or even have a good hope, that we could, by striving, meet again—you and I—I am sure I could endure all conflict—with myself and the world—if I could but have such a hope as any poor old woman hereabout has. As it is I can see only such Rest as Fred: wishes Morton: and some think we shall be lucky if we get that. But I believe we have that consolation. This is all very gloomy and stupid. I could tell you of the very few things I have seen and done since I saw you: they would take but little room to write. But this first letter must be as it is. I was relieved to have a note from you: for I had begun to think you were disgusted with me. Donne told me you couldn't write. I dreamt so of you the other night. I wish you would tell me your girls' address in Paris: I should like to write to them, and hear from them. I must send this letter to Donne to get him to forward it somehow to you. I never dare God Bless people scarcely—for the words have little meaning in my mouth. He is now blessing L. Buonaparte.3 But Goodbye, Goodbye, my dear old Thackeray: and believe (for I can assert) that I am while I live yours ever E.FG. Do let me know about the Portrait: I should be so glad to buy one. And yet I must write you some more—leaving halfsmoked a Cigar I was burning to your Memory—while the Wind howls away out of doors. In the old days I used to send you lots of my own wretched verses, I think: now I will send you some scraps—of no great power— of no pretension at all—but yet with a spangle of pure stuff in them, I think: made years ago by the little Suffolk woman you visited at Oxford4—who would have been my Poetry if I had had wit enough. You will think them no great things: but yet they will run in your head, I know they will, on the other side of the Atlantic, at some big dinner; when they are toasting the Author of Vanity Fair etc., three times three—and the "grizzled grim old fogey" should be thinking of what he has to say in return— Ossington, Ossington, Never again Shall I wander a Child Down your long Summer lane; Nor ride the hay-waggon Beneath the green boughs: Nor go with the Milkmaid To fetch up the Cows.

November 1852 My Bow has been broken For many a long day: My fast-flying Arrows Are all shot away: My hoop runs no longer The garden across: The Roses I train'd Are all cover'd with Moss.

III The old Parsonage too— All it's gay days are oer; The chambers are empty, And silent the floor; No smoke from the Chimnies; The front door is barr'd; The Chestnut drops down In the silent Courtyard. IV And you, my old playmates, Who laugh'd and who sung, Your steps have grown grave, And your Wedding Bells rung: And, drifted by Time To a far other shore, I myself am so chang'd, You would know me no more. 0 calm and pleasant Parsonage, I seem to see you bright as then; As if tw'ere but to pass the hedge, And thread your endless lawns again! 1 wonder if the Thrushes still At early morning haunt the green; I wonder if the Daffodil Is peeping still those pales between. (And here lastly is the view from their little old Cottage at Bramford— when she was a Bachelor.)

November 1852 The Winter sky is ting'd with crimson still, Where Thorn-bush lies upon the quiet hill; And the live amber round the setting Sun, Lighting the labourer home whose task is done, Weaves a bright glory while it fades above The solitary home of Peace and Love.5 We went on a farm near this two months ago6—where the farmers showed us a great Suffolk Stallion that had just got the Prize of all England—what E. C. calls "the Great Horse" without "arriere pensee." After the great horse was seen, we went in—had tea and Beer—and before all went to Bed, the three lusty Farmers brought out a flute, a horn, and a Bassoon, and played an old fashioned hymn that made me hide my head. My good Thackeray, I wonder if this sentimentality bores you! No—because you are on the other side of the Atlantic— which also is why I write it all to you. 1 See

letter from Thackeray, Oct. 27. Ballad of Bouillabaisse," Thackeray Biographical Edition, XIII, 62-64; first published in Punch, Feb. 17, 1849. 3 Louis Napoleon was about to restore hereditary rule of the Bonapartes in France. On December 2 he declared himself Emperor as Napoleon III. 4 Elizabeth Cowell. 5 According to his custom, EFG made minor revisions in Mrs. Cowell's lines. For the original version, see Cowell biography, p. 308. 6 The farm of the Stearns family at Elmsett. 2 "The

To W. B. Donne (Fragment) [Boulge] [NOOember, 1852] My dear Donne, One more letter to beg you not to trouble yourself much about Kean, etc. If I were a Poet, and a poor one, I should be willing you should dance some attendance on him: but as an idle translator only, who does not want money I have no real need to waste your time. If K. can easily give you Audience at once, well and good: if not, just do send him the Play1 with your Recommendation, and an explanation of certain things just to set him off from a right point of view. As I told you, the play needs a Prologue, not only to an Audience,

November 1852 but to a Manager, unless he be somewhat read in Spanish manners, etc. If ever it should be acted, I think I shall get you to write this Prologue in easy rhyme and to explain these things: 1st. The play must be looked on as a Curiosity as well as for what there is of fine in it: curious as a real record of Spanish manners, as well as of the Spanish Stage. 2. It is not meant to be moral, but to represent real History. In par­ ticular the System of Honour, on which the play turns, and which poor Juan himself laments in Act III. The "Medico de su Honra" is more outrageous than the Pintor a great deal: the Hero killing his wife upon scarce a suspicion, and then comfortably married to another woman at the end of the play. 3. What you observe about Juan's departing in peace at the end; if you don't like the words they are easily altered: but the fact of his peaceful dismissal I have softened from the original: in which the Prince tells him to get away on horseback at once, whereas I have put in some words that at least leave after-examination and retribution possible. Calderon's play ends with a few words in which the Prince, to make all honourable, marries Porcia! I only wanted to secure a slow retreat for Juan with poor Juanete2 behind him, from among the other motionless Personae as the Curtain fell: a good picture to end with. 4. The Gracioso must tell most of his stories; cutting out the last. Is he more strange in Pintor, than his fellows the Clowns and Fools of Shakespeare's plays—in Lear! He also is a part not only of Spanish, but of English, History. Somehow, Juanete with his poor humour, and faithful attendance on his master, is the only one of the Characters I can love. I think some such Prologue, to an Audience in Verse—to a Manager in Prose—would at least set them off in the right key to judge. And I wish you would turn over in your mind these points. Now then to turn to your book affairs. I really am delighted your Book3 does so well: and I hope it will put you upon doing some others in the same way. Did I not always tell you to write a Book of such things, and in such a way, as if you were talking to me over the fire? You could make another Capital Rail Book of Anecdotes, just strung together pleasantly—yes, Norfolk Anecdotes, if you like. Why, you could [Second sheet of letter missing] 1

El Pintor de su Deshonra; which EFG had translated. El Pintor's servant, appears as Leonelo in EFG's translation. 3 Old Roads and New Roads. 2 Juanete,

November 1852

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge Novr 20/521 My dear Lady, As you are not reading for honours, I write to you. What are your plans and destinations for December? We talked of my going to see you then: but how does the land lie with you? You will tell me frankly. It is by no means sure that I can go: but I should like to hear how it is with you first. I am now meditating a trip to Geldestone: but let me hear from you as soon as you can. You will be glad to hear, I dare say, that Mr. Kean thought Έ1 Pintor" would not suit an English Audience, and so declines to bring it out. I dare say he is right: though I do not see it. Though I should like to have got a few Pounds for the translation, and perhaps been amused to see the play put in action, yet, on the whole one has no more trouble: and one day you, I, and Cowell shall admire the transla­ tion exceedingly together: as in the old Bramford days. I wrote to Thackeray the other day: and sent him three bits of your poems, to bring the tears into his eyes on the other side of the Atlantic. Apropos of which I must mention the disastrous fate of Clisson. I was at Ipswich: called for Clisson—got it—put it up in my little Car­ petbag, with a pair of trousers, a waistcoat, three pairs of shoes and a shirt—went in a hurry to the Coach: somehow mislaid the Bag: and to this day have never found it, though I have advertised etc. It was stolen, I fancy. I hope Clisson will be more easily replaced than my shoes etc. 1 have translated Zalamea2 into prose—which any noodle could do. Yours E.FG. 1The 2

postmarks read: Woodbridge, Nov. 19; Oxford, Nov. 20, 1852. Calderon's El Alcalde de Zalamea.

November 1852

To John Allen [Boulge] Pmk., Woodbridge November 22,1852 My dear Allen, I won't send you Thackeray's own letter because it is his own delega­ tion of a little trust I would not hazard. But on the other side of the page I write a copy: for your eyes only: for I would not wish to show even its noble kindness to any but one who has known him as closely as myself. I should suppose Pickering has lost my Fuller:1 which I shall be sorry for. He thought there was scarce enough for a Volume: my pains having been all to get little enough: a hard job (I thought) with such a writer as Fuller—at once so voluminous and so good. I doubt if the Extracts would have suited you: but you shall have the Volume if you want it, and can get it safely. Yours, E.FG. P.S. I send you also a Copy of one of those Ballads2—which send back to me—copying it if you like. You see his poor wife at the end. 1 EFG had compiled and sent to Pickering a MS, Fuller's Wit and Wisdom, extracts from the writings of Thomas Fuller (1608-61), English divine, on topics arranged alphabetically. 2 Thackeray's "Bouillabaisse."

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge Nov r 26/52 My dear Lady, By about the IOth of Decr then I will make my way to Oxford: unless any unforeseen hindrance turn up. Donne's address is 12 St. James' Square. Yours in haste E.FG.

December 1852

To Alfred Tennyson 10 Royal Crescent, Brighton Friday: Decr 24/52 Dear old Alfred, I am just down here: the last I heard of you was that you were at Seaford! If you be there still, make Mrs. T. write me half a line to say when I shall go to see you—unless you should be coming here to see me. I however have no accommodation to offer, being in my Mother's house, which is full of a Xmas party. But she would, I am sure, be glad to see you, in case you liked to come: and eatables and drinkables are surely at Command. I don't write more because I am so uncertain of your still being at Seaford. But I should like greatly to have a crack with you, and see your dear old face again. As also Mrs. Tennyson's new face. E.FG.

To Mrs. Cowell 10 Royal Crescent Brighton December 29/52 Madam, Having just returned from visiting Mr. and Mrs. A. Tennyson at Seaford, I must tell you that I talked of my visit to you, and also of the wishes you had expressed that they should one day go and visit you at Oxford. Mrs. T. says that they should really like to go: and that before long—but, as they would go with their little child etc. I believe they would be easier if they could live while there on their own account, whether at your Lodging or near; as they would feel some hesitation in coming so large a party at your expense. Mind, I don't know they will go at all: but she seemed to be much pleased at the notion. But you must write to her, yourself: and directly. I told her you had not forgotten to look out for a house for them: and she said she had been disappointed in not hearing from you. So, write. As heroines go, I dare say she'll do as well for you as many another. You had best address to her at Chapel House Twickenham Middlesex

January 1853 though they may not be back there for some days. I admired the Baby greatly and sincerely: and Alfred nurses him with humour and majesty. He told me I had not seen him in his full glory however—"sitting high, and smiling" as he called it. We had two long talks and smokes over the Ode:1 which he has altered and enlarged quite successfully, I think. He is disappointed that people in general care so little for it— but I tell him they will learn to understand it by degrees: and that it will outlive all ignorance. He is full of Invasion; and I believe truly is more wise and grave about it than any of our Ministers. He also wrote some very fine songs on the Subject—but he says nobody listens or cares. Now I have told you a great deal, I think—which you will say is very delightful. I told A.T. he was to learn Persian at Oxford; and follow the example of yours truly, 2

1 "Ode

on the Death of the Duke of Wellington." Ten thousand copies had been printed in pamphlet form for the funeral of the Duke, November 18, but Tennyson had not been entirely satisfied with the poem at that time. 2 The first Persian script in EFG's correspondence.

To Mrs. and Mr. E. B. Cowell Boulge Jan. 24/53 Dear Sir and Madam, To this place I returned on Saturday: after a few days in London. There I saw Freddy Donne start for India!1 for seven years' absence at least! I went with to hear his Ode2 tried to some dull Music which a scientific Lincolnier has made to it. And I plucked up courage to go and see Carlyle one evening. He was more than usually kind and sub­ dued; wore spectacles to read with: his wife went out: and we lay down each at a side of the fire, and talked of Life slipping away! We also talked of a certain Mr. and Mrs. E.B.C. and I told Carlyle of the man Cowell's Estate at Oxford, and how I had left him pondering as to whether he was to go on with Greek, Latin, Newton, and Logic, or revert to the East at once. Carlyle could give no advice as to present conduct, not knowing all the Circumstances of the Case: but he de-

February 1853

sired EBC to get back to East as soon as he properly could, and to make an Abstract of the Rdmdyana and Mahabarata3 for the benefit of the West; giving a general account and particular translation, as he did in the Westminster:4 which Carlyle said was the best thing of the kind he had seen: so much better than anything Wilson5 had done. He admired extremely one part about some hero who will not go to Heaven unless his family—and his dog—go with him too. I tell you this because here you see a far better judge than myself liking these poems—which ought to be an Encouragement. And I have written this letter only for the purpose of telling you this; so as I think Mrs. E.B.C. must forgive me my slight interest in what I have seen and heard of those great poems. Or will she not forgive me for telling Carlyle I thought it would be good for him to visit Oxford, and make a call at Toy's Lodgings6—which he seemed to like the thought of: but I dare say never will do? (N.B. Carlyle was never plucked,7 that I know of.) 1 With

the 109th Regiment. Wellington. 3 The two great Hindu epic poems. For the Ramdyana, see letter to Cowell, Aug. 15, 1848, n.l. The Mahabdrata, an account of a war fought by gods and men, is similar to the Iliad. 2 On

* "Indian Epic Poetry" in the Westminster Review, Oct., 1848. 6 Oxford orientalist. 6 In Park St., where the Cowells lived. 7 English university slang for rejection of a candidate for a degree because of failure to meet required standards.

To George Crabbe' of Bredfield Cambridge, Thursday [February, 1853] Dear Crabbe, Is not this a pretty Fern? South American, I believe. I see it at a friend's house this evening, and cannot help sending it to you.1 My friend gives me pen, ink, and paper; and now I am called to tea—so farewell ever yrs E.FG. 1 Crabbe's

principal extra-pastoral interests were botany and architecture.

April 1853

To Mrs. and Mr. E. B. Cowell [Norfolk ] Febr. 17/53

Why won't you write to me?—one of you. I supposed you must be ill—one of you. But on calling in St. Clement's last week heard you were quite well, only very busy with a Pracrit Grammar1—one of you —only "one of you"—the Man Cowell. Cannot and will not the Woman write? Or have so many new Heroes and Heroines crossed her path in a month's time that an old one is forgotten? I have been to Cambridge: and am now in Norfolk: and in two days more shall be at Geldestone Hall Beccles whither I think you ought to send me a line—one of you. And I shall write no more until I hear from you: though I have a great many witty and entertaining things to say. E.FG. 1 Varanichi's

Prakrita-Prakasa, published January, 1854.

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge April 4/53 My dear Lady,

Let me hear from you. As to Cowell, he is too steeped in Pracrit. Did you leave Oxford this Easter? I concluded I should hear of you if you went to Ipswich. I have been to Geldestone: and returned from it a fortnight ago. Do you know I am really going to leave this poor little Cottage this Autumn—a sort of sorrowful thing to do too: and I am not yet decided where I am to go and live for a while—Cambridge —Bury— Oxford? I think I told you I kept on translating Calderon at odd times: and shall put up some five or six plays into a small Volume I think. But I want Cowell for some passages: and my Translation would be so free as to be rather a dangerous Experiment. But I think you can hardly make Calderon interesting to English Readers unless with a large lati­ tude of interpretation.

April 1853 I saw Mrs. Smith to-day—took tea there indeed: and she talked of you. Shall we all live and be in cue to meet somewhere here about this summer? Don't let Cowell forget us all in Pracrit. Is the Grammar out? I had a letter from Thackeray, from America: he flourishes greatly; but I thought his letter a disagreeable one, though kind as usual to me. Ever yours, E.FG.

To Stephen Spring Rice Boulge, Woodbridge April 15/53 My dear S. Rice, I should be very glad to hear from you that you had got well through the winter. Send me a few lines to say you and yours are all right. I was glad to see Philip Frere at Cambridge two months ago; going for a few days to Sidney Lodge. Phelps1 was extremely kind to me; and so Mrs. and Mrs. Skrine, who is little chang'd in face or ways. It was very pleasant being there. At night Phelps had the Lodge Hall Door left ajar with a light; so as I went out to smoke a Cigar with Thompson, and even with some of the Boys, without keeping orderly folks up. I heard my Nephew called "Fitz" as I was called in the same rooms2 twenty-five years ago. "Fitz" declined a second cup of Tea made by a Friend who entertained us as well with Liquors, Cigars, etc. and said, "I've made all this lot of Tea—and damme, Fitz, if you shan't drink some of it" and so lit a short pipe at the Candle. Would you like to do it all over again? I suppose Thompson may be Greek Professor if he likes: but he seemed doubtful whether he would take it.3 I was glad to find him very well indeed. When are you coming to regulate the tides at Woodbridge? Mr. Maclean4 asks after you, and hopes in his little heart to talk with a Hornibel (do you remember?) once again in his little Life. I saw your Sister, Mrs. Marshall,5 at Brighton, and liked her very much: as also him. Alfred was there concocting a second Edition of his Ode; which (as usual) he has a little rotten-riped, I think: though he has added some fine things. Say something very bitter indeed to Spedding when you see him. I

April 1853 never see his handwriting: but perhaps I am the better man. He would corrupt Angel or Devil. Please remember me to the Lady: ever yours as ever E.FG. 1 Robert

Phelps, Master of Sidney Sussex College, 1843-90. 19 King's Parade. 3 Thompson was Regius Professor of Greek, 1853-67. 4Employee at the Custom-House at Woodbridge. "Homibel," MacLeans ver­ sion of Honorable. 5 Mary Alice. 2 At

To Bernard Quaritch1 Boulge y Woodbridge April 21/53 Sir, I have scarce had time to look at your Catalogue as yet: but at first glance I see No. 122 (Olivier Basselin) that I want. Can you send it to me here? by post I suppose. I can either send you the money now: or give it you when I go to London, which will be before very long I daresay. Yours, etc. Edward FitzGerald 1

London bookseller who became EFG's publisher. See Biographical Profile.

To Mrs. Cowell [Boulge] April [28]-30,1853 My dear Lady, I had your letter today: I suppose you had a note from me that must have crossed it on the road. I heard from Donne who has got that copy of Calderon which I give Cowell, though I have not yet paid him for it; and which has been properly boarded. It is now ready at the London Library: and Donne can send it you if you like it. I might wish you should have it, but I doubt if you either of you would help me to the

May 1853 meaning of one or two passages I want: and which I can tumble over without great offence. As to Cowell, I am vext he is not well: but he won't and can't be till he takes less Book and more fresh air. How glad I am you are coming here this Summer! Oh come, come, I shall be so well behaved—not cross anymore! though you did not quite under­ stand my Crossness. Who knows what will become of us all another year! Come and let us con over some Calderon, though I have nearly got out of him what I want for the present. As to writing to your Mother, it is not want of will that prevents me; but one feels it is an absurdity for a man to set about it. You women can do these things: ask Cowell if he would. I should think A. Smith is a man of Genius: but all a tangle of weed and flowers just yet. April 30/53 The preceding was written yesterday: or the day before that—and put aside: and today I got your second note. You are very good. I don't want you to write to me often, as you both have other things to do; but I want to hear of you, if only a line, once a month or so. Tell Cowell not to write; but to employ the time he would have been writ­ ing in getting fresh air. Yet I liked to see a little scrap of his MS. again: and his account of the Farthingale is quite satisfactory. I am on the brink of getting some of these Translations into print—which is silly, I doubt. I think I am becoming like old Barton in an itch for seeing myself in type. You will say "Oh, do\ etc." But I shall be left £,20 out of pocket. Well: I have got in a hamper of wine on purpose for you. So let us live to the Summer, and meet here! I told Mrs. Smith today you were coming: and she decides you are also to stay with her; and we will all go to Otley to the Bride.1 Farewell, dear folks, E.FG. 1 Anna

Ling.

To Stephen Spring Rice [Boulge Cottage] [May 4,1853] My dear S. Rice, I take it very kind in you—so busy a man—to write me so long a letter. I sent your card to my Mother, who answers that she is not a subscriber to the Institution it refers to. I suppose it was some other

May 1853 Mrs. F.G. for there are many of that illustrious name: generally one hanged every year in Ireland. Your talk of the old Cambridge days has made me send you the enclosed piece of music, which I found in a Music Book dated "Cam­ bridge, 1834"—when I was in that top room at Bacon's, the Tobac­ conist's, and we often looked down on the market. That was a time of some musical impulse; and I remembered this directly I saw it: the whole room and place rose up before me. As it is connected with a place and time in which you figure, and has really some beauty in it I think, I send it to you. It is in the old style, which you will not think obsolete for such words: and must be sung by a Tenor. I have really a sort of love for it—very much from association, I think, with old times. I shall be very glad indeed to have a print from Laurence's new drawing of you. I often thought that, had I been rich enough, I should have had a copy made of the old one, which I always liked. Did I tell you I really was about to leave this Cottage?—before the Winter if I can exert myself. But I have not yet fixt on a new abode. Shall I go to Bacon's Upper Room? "Lusisti satis atque bibisti etc."1 One must not rub Time against the grain so. It begins to be wonderful to me to think of the Past: and my last Theory of Mankind is that it is about as bad as Swift has painted it, but atoned for by the half dozen people one has known and made friends of. I suppose that Old Serpent has got Ellis'2 share of Bacon to edit now. I say I wish he had done with Bacon, and would set about an Edition of Shakespeare. It would be a fine thing for him to have "settled the Text" etc. of those two. But that Serpent goes his own way, and who can direct his path? Ever yours E.FG. If I should chance to fix my Residence at Lowestoft, you will bumbard me one day in your Yot? P.S. Pray get my name put down for a print of your Phiz. 1

Lusisti satis, edisti satis atque bibisti Tempus abire tibi est.

"You have played enough, have eaten and drunk enough. It is time for you to leave the scene." Horace, Epistles II.ii.214-15 2Robert Leslie Ellis (1817-59), one of Spedding's collaborators in editing the works of Francis Bacon, had found it necessary to withdraw from the project. His assignment had been the philosophical works.

May 1853

To Mrs. Cowell [ Boulge ] [May, 1853] My dear Lady, "Ecce signum" of a beginning of Calderon! The Painter—Tres Justicias—Nadie fie su Secreto—Gil Perez the Gallician—are the four which are done and to be committed to type. I shall then see about the Mayor of Zalamea, and another Comedy—which six would give a fair idea (I think) of Calderon's Spanish Life. I shall hope to see Cowell, and talk to him about the two last however before I send them to print: as they have difficulties. Especially the Songs: which, though simple, have a Gipsy character I am not up to. "Zalamea" too can scarcely be translated without plenty of swearing: and what would you say to that? Tell C. to send me a translation of the little song he likes. Las flores del romero, Nifia Isabel, Hoy son flores azules, Y mafiana seran miel.1 What I doubt about in the Book's success is this: that so few read Spanish (though so easy) that the Newspaper Critics either won't notice at all, or condemn as a free Translation (which it is and will profess to be) so as to keep their own ignorance of the matter safe anyhow. I write to you, because you have had at least more leisure, or less headache, to write to me than C. Nor do I wish him (or you) to write to your inconvenience. But you know my letters are for both. Yours, E.FG. 1

El Alcalde de Zalamea, II. EFG's version appears in The Mayor of Zalamea, II.2: Ah for the red spring rose, Down in the garden growing, Fading as fast as it blows, Who shall arrest its going? Peep from thy window and tell, Fairest of flowers, Isabel.

May 1853 To Ε. Β. Cowell Pmk., Woodbridge May 30,1853 My dear Cowell, I was glad that you found me right about Pedro's1 speech: since it has given me confidence about other passages which I was doubtful about but which I have sent to be printed for better or worse. But now, if you have both time, and Keil's Edition, I want you really to see if the two fragments I send you from the "Agua Mansa" are correct in the places I have marked as doubtful. I wish to have these right because (though trivial) they are historical, and moreover history planned and acted by Calderon himself; who arranged the Celebration of Philip's second Marriage.2 The first Extract is last in the play: you will see I want to know in that whether I am right about a Personifica­ tion of Madrid. In the second Extract (which is first in the play) I am in doubt about a mountain, whether Allegorical or not. Now, I wish you would read the original first: so as not to be biased by my plausible Version. Pray do this: get your own idea of the sense; and then look if I am right in the points I ask about. I think there must be a Keil somewhere in Oxford: if not there is your own all ready at Donne's in London. You will see how freely I have translated—how abbreviated etc. It is this makes the experiment a dangerous one; though I doubt if a read­ able English Translation of Calderon can be made without. Besides this I want answers to these questions. You can just append a word, and send back this page. 1. My plays are 1. Pintor. 2. Nadie fie su Secreto. 3. Luis Perez el Gallego. 4. Tres Justicias. 5. Agua Mansa. 6. Alcalde Zalamea. I want to know if you have seen any one of these (except the Last) in any Collection, or Translation, or mentioned with praise any­ where; in Schlegel-Bouterwek3 etc. Pintor is mentioned, I know: but with praise? 2. Which were the plays translated in Blackwood? 3. Look out in your Dictionary the exact meanings (for Zalamea) of 1. Juegodelboliche 2. Pelota 3. A man is asked how he is (Agua Mansa—first line of p. 354) and he answers—"Pretty well, thank you—so-so— mixt-like—como lonja de la pierna."

June 1853 I am sorry to trouble you: but Madam will write your opinion, eh? Let me know when you leave Oxford: and bring Schlegel's Dramatic Literature and Lewes4 with you. E.FG. P.S. Don't do all this if you have Examination or Extra work. Only, keep my papers. 1 Pedro

Crespo, the mayor of Zalamea. IV's marriage to his niece, Mariana of Austria. 3August Schlegel (1767-1845), whose Spanisches Theater contained transla­ tions of five of Calderons plays. Friedrich Bouterwek (1766-1828), author of Geschichte der neuem Poesie und Beredsamkeit, 12 vols., 1801-19. * Schlegel's Lectures on Dramatic Art and Literature, translated by J. Black, 1815; and George H. Lewes' Spanish Drama: Lope de Vega and Calderon, 1846. 2 Philip

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson at W. B. Donne's 12 St. James' Square [June, 1853] My dear Mrs. Tennyson, I am here for a few days; and if you are both well, and inclined, and have no company on Sunday, and will have no dinner but what you would have, [I] should like to go down to see you with Donne, whom I am very sure you will both like—as well as me, to say the least. Of course, if you have the slightest objection, you have simply to say "No" without stating it, since I shall know it is a good and friendly one without explanation. Yours very truly Edwd. FitzGerald

To E. B. Cowell Boulge July 15/53 My dear Cowett, If you can bring down the Autos1 with you, do so; and I will pay you for them and for the Calderon at once. If you cannot bring them

July 1853 conveniently let us leave them; I dare say I shall care little for them, and they will only help to encumber me with Books I can't stow away. If you like Calderon (I dare say you like it more than it deserves) you will I am sure give it a lift where you can. Everyone seems to think me very silly for bringing it out under Pickering's broken banner; and I doubt that, other considerations apart, his people have now too much to do to attend to me. But as I told you I was too tired of the Business to hunt for another Publisher. Be sure to let me know when you come down into these parts: and believe me yours E.FG. I want you, if you can, to bring down a roll of prints I left at Donne's. 1 Autos sacramentales, a form of religious drama to which Calderon turned after being ordained priest in 1651. These plays are not included in Keil's edition.

To George Crabbe of Merton Boulge July 22/53 My dear George,

Your account of the Doctor's warnings to your Cousin in your first note delighted me greatly: as it did your Father to whom I read it last night. For, on coming home from Aldbro' (where I had been for a day) I found to my great surprise your Father smoking in my room, with a bottle of Port (which he had brought with him!). The mystery was then solved; that, after his own dinner, Mr. Burroughs1 was announced; and your Father dreading lest he should stay all the Evening declared he had most important business—first at Woodbridge, then, on second thoughts, with me; and so decamped. Now as to your second letter which I found also on my return: I am very glad you like the plays2 and am encouraged to hope that other persons who are not biassed by pedantic prejudices or spites might like them too. But I fully expect that (as I told you, I think) the London press, etc., will either sink them, or condemn them as on too free a principle: and all the more if they have not read the originals.3 For these are safe courses to adopt. All this while I am assuming the plays are well done in their way, which of course I do. On the other hand,

July 1853

they really may not be as well done as I think; on their own principle: and that would really be a fair ground of condemnation. You are quite right about some of your corrections, and I thank you for them: Lazaro's "loss" of dagger4 is scarcely pre-supposed in his having "used" it on a man: and the word "farmer" as applied to Gil5 in the final note too much refers him to our tenant Farmer—Burroughs, to wit. What I did mean was, what the Cumberland people call a States­ man: but that word would have required an explanation too. At p. 250, "Juan" should be "Felix."6 And at p. 95, there should be a full stop at the end of the last line: and no stop at "By turns" in the first line of p. 96. Much ado about Little! Yours ever E.FG. We are all very sorry you don't come here. 1A

tenant farmer on the FitzGerald estate. Six Dramas from Calderon, which EFG had sent to the printer in May. William Pickering was named on the title page as publisher. "About a hundred copies" were printed. 3 EFG's prediction was fulfilled by the Athenaeum. " 'Freely translated,' says Mr. FitzGerald. There is no doubt of it. . . . We have not taken the trouble to compare these translations with the originals; holding it quite unnecessary to treat as a serious work a book whose author confesses that he has 'sunk, reduced, altered, and replaced much that seemed not fine or efficient' . . . supplying such omissions by some lines" (Athenaeum, Sept. 10, 1853, p. 1063). 4 In Keep Your Own Secret. 5 In Gil Perez, the Gallician. 6 In Beware of Smooth Water. 2

To George Borrow1 Boulge, Woodbridge July 22, 1853 My dear Sir, I take the liberty of sending you a book,2 of which the title-page and advertisement will sufficiently explain the import. I am afraid that I shall in general be set down at once as an impudent fellow in making so free with a Great Man; but, as usual, I shall feel least fear before a man like yourself, who both do fine things in your own language and are deep read in those of others. I mean, that whether you like or not

July 1853 what I send you, you will do so from knowledge and in the candour which knowledge brings. I had even a mind to ask you to look at these plays before they were printed, relying on our common friend Donne for a mediator; but I know how wearisome all MS. inspection is; and, after all, the whole affair was not worth giving you such a trouble. You must pardon all this, and believe me, Yours very faithfully, Edward FitzGerald 1 See 2 The

Biographical Profile. Calderon plays.

To W. F. Pollock Boulge, Woodbridge July 25/53 My dear Pollock,

Thank you for your letter. Though I believed the Calderon to be on the whole well done and entertaining, I began to wish to be told it was so by others, for fear I had made a total mistake: which would have been a bore. And the very free and easy translation lies open to such easy condemnation, unless it be successful. Your account of Sherborne1 rouses all the Dowager within me. I shall have to leave this Cottage, I believe, and have not yet found a place sufficiently dull to migrate to. Meanwhile tomorrow I am going to one of my great treats: viz. the Assizes at Ipswich: where I shall see little Voltaire Jervis, and old Parke,2 who I trust will have the gout, he bears it so Christianly. With kindest remembrances to Mrs. Pollock, Ever yours, E.FG. P.S. Macready wrote (on the safe principle you allude to) to acknowl­ edge the receipt of the Book. 1 Pollock and his wife spent the week of July 8, 1853, visiting William Macready, the actor, with whom they were on intimate terms, at his home in Sher­ borne, Dorset. 2Sir John Jervis (1802-56), Lord Chief Justice of Common Pleas, 1850-56. Sir James Parke, later Baron Wensleydale (1782-1868), judge.

August 1853

To George Borrow Boulge, Woodbridge August 3/53 Dear Sir, I am really obliged to you for your letter: the more so as I think I have heard you do not much like writing. Though I of course thought the Translations well done (or I should not have printed them), I naturally desired the approval of a com­ petent Judge: since the best of us may make sad mistakes in the estima­ tion of our own handiwork: and it is not pleasant to dub oneself an Ass in print. I should not, however, have troubled you with this second letter (taking it for granted you would have believed in my thanks without) but that your saying you have not a Calderon by you makes me think it possible you have not got a complete one at all, and you may not know that Keil's complete (except the Autos) four Volume Edition is now to be bought for 21 shillings! I believe at Willis' in Covent Gar­ den. Really a wonderful bargain, and not likely to continue so long, I should think. Though I cannot look on CaIderon as among the Greatest of the World (if I did, I certainly should not have meddled with him), yet he is surely worth this money to any who love the Spanish Drama at all. You are very kind to express a wish to talk over some of these mat­ ters with me. I suppose I shall be going to Beccles one of these days: and should anything draw you this way, this mouldy Cottage shall do its best to entertain you. I have but little company to offer except my dear old neighbour Parson Crabbe—a really fine old fellow. At Ipswich indeed is a man whom you would like to know, I think, and who would like to know you; one Edward Cowell: a great Scholar, if I may judge: such as I have not hitherto seen anything at all like from the Univer­ sities, etc. He was brought up for a Merchant: but is now studying at Oxford; where, however, he deals more in Sanscrit and Oriental Literature than in the Studies of the place, though he is deeply versed in them too, and has a head for anything. Above all, he is most modest —nay, shy: with great hidden humour, too. He is just editing a Pracrit Grammar. Should you go to Ipswich (he is there all this Vacation) do look for him: a great deal more worth looking for (I speak with no sham modesty, I am sure) than Yours very truly Edward FitzGerald

August 1853

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge [August, first week, 1853] My dear Lady, "Companion to the Railway Edition of Lord Campbell's Life of Lord Bacon—by a Railway Reader. Chapman and Hall. Is."1 Voila! Please to bid your husband tell me if he see any Critique on my Calderon in the Examiner or Lit. Gazette: I want to know as a matter of Trade and Advertisement. I almost think they will be silent, not knowing quite what to say. I had a very handsome letter from Borrow about it. Enough of that. I was close to Ipswich yesterday: and should per­ haps have gone on: but after what you say of the terrors of Pracrit, I must leave you to name your own times and seasons. Mrs. Smith came in a new bonnet to Boulge Church last Sunday Evening: as also Emma Reynolds, whom you may remember, and who now has taken up her abode within a stone's-throw of Farlingay. Adieu for the present. E.FG. 1John Lord Campbell (1779-1861), who had twice previously published biog­ raphies of Francis Bacon which had been severely criticized for inaccuracies, in 1853 produced A Life of Lord Bacon for a series of railroad books. Spedding, who had been engaged in research on Bacon for a dozen years, responded with his Companion . . . to Lord Campbell's Life. After quoting statements from Lord Campbell's book, Spedding submitted contradictory passages drawn from Bacon's works and other sources. A writer in the Westminster Review subsequently urged readers to buy no more of Lord Campbell's books, to burn those which they al­ ready had, and to "spend their next shilling in the purchase of this Companion" (Westminster Review, April, 1854, p. 246).

To Stephen Spring Rice Boulge August 7/53 My dear Spring Rice, Herewith I post you a Volume of Translations from Calderon done by me. I think you will like them: but, whether or not, I wish to make you such a little present for far other reasons than those of literary taste.

August 1853 I should have sent this to you before: but heard you were in Ireland. You may be there now: but it has struck me that the Book will keep at your Lewisham home till you return. Let me hear from you as soon as you can: not about the Book, but about your Health and general Prosperity. I was in and about London nearly all the month of June: but saw little of any friends except Spedding, Donne, and /j\ . I find it useless to try and keep up smiles with others, far wiser than myself, who are yet other than myself. We mutually bore one another. I can most sin­ cerely add you, though later known, to the small list of those I have loved from School Days. Perhaps you don't thank me for the Com­ pliment: but so it is. Then there are Alfred, and Fred, Tennyson and one or two more. I caught a glimpse of old Thackeray on his return from America— quite well, rich, and happy: and about to start on a Swiss tour with his Girls. The Old Serpent1 is by this time gone to the Moors! His Sophistries were worse than ever, and no man knew where to have him. I heard and saw little new in town: some fine things at the British Gallery: as to Music there were only the old set of singers, and those dismal, roaring, ugly, operas of Meyerbeer. How delightful seems to me one of Haydn's Andantes beside all such. Remember me most kindly to your wife, and believe me yours ever Edward FitzGerald 1 Spedding, who had gone to shoot at Corrybaugh, the Inverness-shire home of his Bury schoolmate, Arthur Malkin. Fanny Kemble describes Corrybaugh as "a moorland sheep-farm and grouse-shooting property." Spedding was also an enthu­ siastic archer.

To Mr. and Mrs. E. B. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge [ August 21,1853] Five minutes stolen from Sunday! My dear Cornells, Read the enclosed: and consider whether the writer is right about his Bacon which we will talk of together and write to him about. But also pray look at a notice of his Book in the Athenaeum of this week. Shall I ever care what they say of me, after such beastly stupidity in

August 1853 talking of him!1 It is enough to make one leave the Athenaeum. But I really think it proves that I am right and Spedding wrong in the sub­ ject of dispute between us: for, had he stated the gravity of the charge against Lord C he would hardly be charged with only personal spite as he is. He judges from the attitude of his own soul and will not (practically) submit to the cognizance of the Baseness of the World about him. What I meant to write about was only this: viz: whether I shall bring my pony and gig when I go to see you? If you can house them, etc., they might be convenient for Elmsett, etc. But not worth the lessest Bother. One line, Madame, by return of Post will oblige. On second thoughts, I keep Spedding's letter—for two reasons. You shall see it when I go to you. E.FG. 1 The Athenaeum review read, "This 'Companion,' anything but a pleasant one . . . is a very severe attack—partly, we think, justified—on Lord Campbell's 'Life;' but conceived in a bad spirit, and written with unusual and unnecessary acrimony" (Athenaeum, Aug. 20, 1853, p. 991).

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge, Tuesday [August 23,1853] My dear Lady, You did not find it "nominated in the bond" of my Sunday's letter (did you?) that I was to go to Ipswich today? No surely—since I have to drive Crabbe to look for a "Pyramidal" on Sutton Heaths! Tomorrow I shall make for you—pony and all. I write this in order to do my best not to confuse any Elmsett proposals. I shall hope you have not fixt on tomorrow for my going: and should it turn out (as I sincerely believe it cannot) that I proposed to go to you today, I shall be vext. I will bring Spedding's Letter. You will not be surprized if I have "letters" to call me home!—for indeed I am in all uncertainty about Fred. Tennyson. E.FG.

August 1853

To Frederick Tennyson Boulge, Woodbridge [August 23,1853] My dear Frederic, I am going tomorrow to the house of Edward B. Cowell Esq. St. Clement's Ipswich till Saturday: which I mention that, in case you purpose coming to me directly you may write thither. If you should like to come down on Saturday for instance, I can meet you at Ipswich, whether at Rail or Steamboat, and convoy you home hither to the delights of a Suffolk Sunday. Only if you propose this, give me a line by return of Post to the foregoing Address, so as I may provide decently for you. This is why I write. Ever yours E.FG. After Saturday I shall be back here anyhow.

To Thomas Carlyle Boulge, Woodbridge August 31/53 Dear Carlyle, I return you C[harles] C[hild]'s letter. I am glad that what I told you of the old man's death is therein confirmed:1 for such a true record seems to me a possession to all who have to go through the same operation. You are very kind to repay me so handsomely for my letter—and ask for more. I should often write had I anything worth telling you. As to Calderon, you must not trouble yourself to read him again. I do not think you would approve of so licentious a translation of one [you] seem to esteem so well, and in verse too! Fred Tennyson is now staying with me.2 I don't know if you have ever seen him: he is a very fine fellow, with genius and grandeur of character, and also gigantic Crotchets. I have also been staying with the Cowells: he is rejoicing in having just sent off the last sheet of

September 1853 Pracrit to the Press. I hope this Grammar will get him notice—not for fame but profit—in the quarters where his study lies. Believe me ever yours Edward FitzGerald 1 John Childs' son Charles, the Bungay printer, had written Carlyle that his father "would not die until he had seen a friend, who was long in coming, and to whom he would deliver his solemn protest against 'the religious formalisms and theologies by which thousands of souls are continually destroyed.'" His physician said that it would not be possible to "retain life until the friend should come." The patient sank into what appeared to be his last stupor, but when the friend's step was heard "he raised himself, delivered his word slowly . . . with the solemnity of an old-world prophet, and then lay down and died instantly" (Trinity College MS). 2 He stayed from August 27 to September 6.

To Bernard Quaritch Boulge, Woodbridge Sept r 5/53 Sir, Will you be so good to let me know the price of that one Vol. Fol. Spanish Dicty I saw with you two months ago—I mean a reduction from the 6 Vol. Academy one.(a) Also will you tell me what you will allow me for a Biographie Universelle in 53 Vols: 1/2 bound, and perfectly clean copy—almost un­ used indeed(b) Yours, etc. Edward FitzGerald [Figures by B.Q.] (a) £2 . . . 1843; 10/- . . . 1817 (b) £10 or £10. 10. 0 if fine.

To George Crabbe of Merton Boulge, Woodbridge Septr 12/53 My dear George, I enclose you a scrap from The Leader 1 as you like to see criticisms on my Calderon. I suppose your Sisters will send you the Athenaeum

September 1853 in which you will see a more determined spit at me. I foresaw (as I think I told you) how likely this was to be the case: and so am not surprized. One must take these chances if one will play at so doubtful a game. I believe those who read the Book, without troubling them­ selves about whether it is a free Translation or not, like it: but Critics must be supposed to know all, and it is safe to condemn. On the other hand, the Translation may not be good on any ground: and then the Critics are all right. Please to return me the enclosed Scrap, and the Athenaeum: as it amuses me to keep them. I was very close to you last Wednesday, when I escorted Fred. Tennyson (who came to see me) to Thetford. It was doubtful to the last whether we were to go thither or to Cambridge: so I could say nothing to you. I therefore returned to Bury, where, by good luck, I found Donne just returned for a fortnight's holiday: and I was with him and his till Saturday, when I returned home. I was glad to find your Father eased of his Rheumatism, and also of his fears that he was "breaking up." Drew was to come home yesterday: as well as usual, we hear. I am not yet migrated to another abode, you see; and scarce likely to fix on one this year. I am about to send off some pictures to be sold, however: as also some Books: and am in general lightening my wings for a flight when I have decided whither. You know if you want that head from Laurence, you can have it at any time. But it is hardly worth putting him to the trouble, or you to the expense of sending it. Farewell for the present. Ever yours E.FG. 1 The review reads in part: "It is not CaldercSn so much as an English imitation of Calder6n—sometimes skilfully, sometimes indifferently executed . . . an accept­ able contribution to our dramatic literature" (Sept. 3, 1853, p. 861). The Athenaeum was hostile, objecting to the liberties EFG took in translating (Sept. 10, 1853, p. 1063).

To Mrs. Cowell [Boulge] [c. Sept. 12,1853] My dear Lady, I returned from Bury on Saturday. But I must tell you how F. Tennyson was with me till last Tuesday: when I went with him to

September 1853 Bury: and set him upon the Rail at Thetford. After which I returned to Bury, and found Donne there: with whom I stayed till Saturday— when I returned here. Donne and his Mother both desired me to tell you how glad they would be if you would go over for a day to see them: Donne will be another week at Bury: so you should go this week, I think, if you would go at all. I do not think of going again. I shall however go over to Ipswich one day to see you: and you must let me know what your movements are like to be. I was glad to hear that the Stearns got the chief Horse Prize. If Cowell looks at the Athenaeum of this week, he will see what treatment his poor friend receives. These Reviewers may have read the Book, and be right: but it seems to me as if they did not read, but, laying hold of the confession in the Preface, condemn the principle at once as the safest course to pursue. Lewes' Leader had a half-and-half skit at me; nibbling at a piece in the only play he knew. I always antici­ pated this might be the case: and perhaps it is scarce to be expected that Critics, who are supposed to know everything, would consent to read the Translations without reference to the Original. On the other hand, they may be right, in spite of what Self and Company (i.e. Self's Friends) say. How goes on Pracrit? I have scarce looked at Persian since I saw you: and believe my knowledge of it will end with the Alphabet if it ever accomplish that. F. Tennyson would have been glad to see you again. But we bungled the day and hour of departure till there was no time to spare. Donne says that even Carlyle roars with satisfaction at old Spedding's Railway Book. Which will make you rejoice, as it does yours truly E.FG.

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson Boulge, Woodbridge Septr 15/53 My dear Mrs. Tennyson, As Galignanis1 still keep arriving here for Frederick, I must an­ nounce to you that he left me a week ago for Lincolnshire. I am not sure if 'tis you who forward the papers hither: but as I do not know

September 1853 where your Mother-in-law now resides (she was moving from Sion Row when Fred, was here) I must trouble you with the correction of the Business. This, again, is taking it for granted you are got back to Chapel House: which that same Fred, said you would be before this. I sent you a letter and a Book of Norman Mandeville's to Redcar Post office. Hearing nothing of them, I wrote to the Post Master some three weeks after and heard you were flown. He returned me my Nor­ man Book: what became of the Letter I know not. Frederick was very kind to come down to me: and he put up with all the dowdy discomforts of this place with the utmost good humour. He occasionally let out against the weather: but I had no hand in that. I went with him to Bury, then put him on the Rail at Thetford. He was to reach Louth that same Evening: yesterday (Wednesday) week. He told me Alfred had not been well—laid up at Edinburgh, I think. If you should have a spare minute I should be glad to hear he was all right again. The same reason that prevented my going to see Fred, at Twicken­ ham some weeks ago prevents my accepting a kind invitation you sent me through him. For the present, at least. I should like much to go. He wants me to go to Florence for the winter: and I should like to do that too—but what with indolence, and looking about for a new Abode, I suppose I shan't. Are you any nearer fixing?2 The Cowells are now at Ipswich, and always talking of you both. With love to old Alfred, I am Yours very truly Edward FitzGerald 1

GaligtMni's Messenger, a daily newspaper published in Paris. The policy of the paper, which was printed in English, was to promote good feeling between Eng­ land and France. 2 The Tennysons were then living at Chapel HouJe, Twickenham, but moved to Farringford, Isle of Wight, in November.

To E. B. Cowell [Boulge ] [September 21,1853] Dear Cowell, I have been waiting till the Crabbes should arrange some boat Ex­ cursion they are planning: that is why I have neither written to you

September 1853 nor appeared propria persona. Give me a line to say what you have done, and are about to do. I did not send the last act of the Principe,1 thinking to finish it with you. But during the last two days I could not resist taking it in hand; though but a little at a time. I translated the last scene of the "Magico" —the last scene of Justina and Cipriano, however: but it won't do. I did not, as you know, expect it would: but it amused me to do just this. My English, and rhymes, are terribly stale. I will show it to you: who will like it better than it deserves: and Madam Romance will think it very good. Yours ever, E.FG. I wrote to Rolandi, who is going to enquire about the Quarto Edition. 1 Calder0n's

El Principe Constante, an historical comedy.

To Mrs. Cowell Boulge, Friday [Sept. 23,1853] My dear Lady, I conclude my neighbours the Crabbes will fix on one day next week for Harwich: and I shall probably go with them. Anyhow, I must go over to see you: for Oxford time is approaching! As to your Husband, I think he may very well decline the water party—which will probably be a tiresome thing: only deputing you to come with us. You know you are an optimist, and don't think anything stupid except Mr. Hughes and Mr. D. Grey. So you must come with us, my good Lady: yes, that you must: and show us all the Beauties of the Orwell, which you once sung in a Gazelle song which is the pride and delight of my heart—the most darling memory of my Age. As to my Calderon, I will never do any more; for doing it slavishly so vulgarizes the original. The fine Scene isn't so fine to me now I have run it into lead. You shall see it, however: because, not having had the trouble of doing it, it won't stick in your head as it does in mine. Tell EBC he has forgot the end of the Principe: which is fine: and atones for the poverty of the first parts. I will bring it with me to prove this to him. Make your brother Charles Henry come with us to Harwich etc. Yes, do this. E.FG.

September 1853

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson [Boulge Cottage] September 25/53 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, I am sorry you had the trouble of writing to me, so much as you had to do and think of. I should like very much to go and see you all: but the same cause that with-held [me] from going to see Frederic deters me now: much bother as you (in common with the rest of us) may have, I sincerely hope you have none of my kind—which is one of the most unwholesome, I believe. However, Frederic must let me know of his movements: certainly not start back for Italy without giving me warning. I feel mightily inclined to visit him there this winter: but I am ashamed and afraid to say more of such inclinations as have so often ended—where they began! He looked at some houses down here which he thought might per­ haps suit you, or some of yours, for a time. But you are afraid of this Coast, I know. If I can do anything for you, tell me. One of the places F. looked at was very sheltered. I think if /j\ is not well, he should get out of Twickenham before the Cholera comes. It may be made little of by those in strong health. I am really glad Frederick liked the Cowells: who were very delighted with him. This I say very advisedly. They are now at Ipswich: but will, I think, move London-wards next Week. Should you incline to write to her, their address is Mrs. E. B. Cowell St. Clement's Ipswich I was at a loss, at first, to take the interrogatory hint at the end of your letter—but I soon saw it referred to my poor Calderon. Yes, I do think the English, and all people, take interest in "heart-tragedies treated melodramatically" meaning by Melodrama domestic Drama (which it has now chiefly come to mean) and which, whether rightly or wrongly, all like to read or see acted. In calling those Calderon plays "Melodrama" I meant that I could not look on them as Tragedies, which includes the idea of High Poetry: Melodramas mean (to my Understanding) the same events and interests pitched in a lower key, and nearer to the common heart perhaps because not lifted into Imagi­ nation. I may be wrong however in my theory and practice: and in­ deed the Newspaper Critics scoff at both, I see. Yours ever truly Edward FitzGerald

September 1853 If you quarrel with the Gracioso jesting, in Calderon, must you not also with the same in Shakespeare?

To Bernard Quaritch Boulge, Woodbridge [September 27,1853] Sir, I have today sent off to [you] a Box containing the Biographie Universelle (52 Vols:) A Plato (11 Vols:) with other Books (some of Music) which I wish for your valuation of. The Biogr: Uni: you will find scarcely touched in binding or interior, I believe. You will be so good as to give me an answer about these Books separately—I mean, with the value affixed to each; and I will then decide as to whether they are to be sold. As to the Spanish Dictionaries, I expect to be in London before long when I will see to the difference between the two Editions you speak of. If it were no great trouble, you might perhaps enclose me a line about them. I suppose the 1843 one is another Edition of the former and cheaper one. Is it much fuller and better? Yours, etc. Edward FitzGerald If the Books do not arrive tomorrow or Thursday please to let me know.

To Mrs. Cowell [Boulge ] [September, last week, 1853] My dear Lady, It is possible I may run over to Ipswich tomorrow, since I want to consult Mary Hockley. She is a wise woman to whom I often have recourse in practical muddles: which I sometimes have a turn for getting into. You over-rate my Calderon as much as the Newspaper men under­ value them, maybe. As to my Music: I suppose you mean Beethoven's to Campbell's words? Well, I will bring you a copy if I can find one. But the Critics would scorn that as much as the Calderon: and prob-

October 1853 ably with better justice. Do you mean it is your "Historical Reveries" is reprinted? Is the Gazelle Boat Song once more afloat? "And I not sing etc."1 I rage with jealousy, and like Mrs. Jarley2 think of turning Atheist. E.FG. 1

Byron's English Bards and Scotch Reviewers begins Still must I hear?—shall hoarse Fitzgerald bawl His creaking couplets in a tavern hall, And I not sing. . . . The Fitzgerald alluded to is William Thomas Fitzgerald (1759P-1829), poetaster. 2 Proprietress of the waxworks in Dickens' Old Curiosity Shop, chapter XXXII.

To Bernard Quaritch Boulge, Woodbridge October 2/53 Sir, I did not reach home till yesterday, when I found your note. I do not expect a valuation of each little bit of music or little Book: but surely there is some market value of such Books as the Biogr: Univiic1 the Plato—the Czerny—Weber—Boccaccio, etc., of which you must be a better judge than I. And in all my dealings in this kind, the Buyer (when in the Trade) has always proposed what to give. If I were to value the Books, I should probably do it wrong one way or other. If you value them, I shall know at once whether it is better worth my while to let them go, or keep them, or even give them away. In case I do not agree to your valuation, I shall of course pay you for all expenses of carriage, house-room, etc. Please to let me know at once what you offer for the Chief Books. You mention £,10.10.—for the Biogr: Un: —in case it were in good order: which I presume you find it in. That sum seems a very fair one to me. Yours, etc. Edward FitzGerald [Figures, etc. by B.Q.] Ben Jonson, 10/-; Pepys, 10/-; Spinoza, 5/-: Plato, 30/; Czerny, £1; Weber, 10/-; Her and Marl, 12/-; Plates, £2; £1 more. Biogr. Universelle, £10. 10. 0. Other Books ... £8. 0. 0.

£18. 10. 0.

October 1853

To Frederick Tennyson Boulge, Woodbridge October 2/53 My dear old Frederic, Be sure to let me know some days beforehand when you think of re­ turning to Italy. I doubt that my doubts about going with you will all end in doing nothing: but I wish you would believe this is not wholly—nor chiefly—indolence. I have some other reasons for keeping in Suffolk. If I do not go with you, I shall run up to see you before going: if it be agreeable to you that I should do so. Therefore I repeat, be sure to tell me as soon as you can when you think of starting. Do not forget this : nor give me up as a cold-hearted craven for not availing myself of all your so kind invitations. I doubt if I got to Italy I should only be in a nasty little fret to get home to my own dingy ways again: and any muddle in my head (which I am never secure from) makes me best by myself. I can assure you that all who saw you here were delighted with you. It is useless trying to get you down here again, I suppose: else I should be delighted to do all the little I did before to entertain you. The pony still survives: Crabbe smokes—my Cowells, alas! will be gone. I took leave of them at Ipswich yesterday. Should you be in London, you will find them for a week after Thursday next at the Reverend J. Charlesworth's Bread Street Hill Cheapside And do, if you can, go and see Donne 12 St. James' Square He remembers you well at Cambridge, and was so sorry to have missed you at Bury. I was vext afterward not to have insisted on your stopping a day more to see him: but I was not sure of his coming. The Bell is now tolling for Mr. Field's1 morning Service: to which I do not go, wanting to write to you instead. With all my infidelity (with which I am ashamed to confront your true and availing Faith) I assure you I can heartily congratulate you upon that Faith, and wish myself like you! It is some radical difference—and in some respects, I am sure, Inferiority of mind in me, which keeps this Gulph between us. But you would not have me profess what I do not feel. You told me some of your friends saw you were altered for the better by your Faith: I assure you sincerely, so do I. You were always noble and good enough to be among my most loved and honoured men: and you have

October 1853 now subdued the irritability, which to me however was never offensive; indeed I cannot remember that it ever was exerted toward me. But I must not lecture any longer. Remember to do what I have told you, and believe me ever yours E.FG. 1 Samuel

Pryer Field (1816-78), Rector of Boulge and Debach, 1850-62.

To Bernard Quaritch Boulge, Woodbridge October 7/53 Sir, I will not quarrel with your valuation of my Books. I really do not know where to stow them here. You can send me, if you please, a cheque for the amount. Yours, etc. E. FitzGerald [Figures by B. Q.] £18.10.0

To E. B. Cowell Boulge, Woodbridge October 7/53 My dear Cowell, I conclude you have left Ipswich and got to London by this time. In your rambles about Town, pray ask about that copy of Ferdusi1 you told me of (an imperfect one, I mean) and also about that com­ mon Cheap Persian Dictionary. Do not buy them, however: but let me know what they will cost. I am not sure of even wanting either: for I am not greatly impressed with the desire to poke out even a smatter of Persian: and, even if I were, I must pause again before en­ trusting you to buy books for me when you won't let me repay you. I got to the end of looking at Sir W. Jones' Grammar2 yesterday: and was pleased with that bit of Ferdusi which the gallant Sultan Togrul (which so nearly rhymes to "Doggrel") sung out while going into the Battle where he fell.3 I don't quite understand why the Horse should be compared to a furious Elephant, however: and why any Native

October 1853 should call that Elephant Pyl4 strikes me as odd. I expect it is the story of Togrul that Jones so deftly introduces that gives colour to the Verses. Farewell, you and Lady. I hear nothing of a housekeeper—Single or married. 1Abul Kasim Mansur Firdusi (c. 940-1020), one of the seven great poets of Persia. His greatest work was the epic, Shdhndmeh, "Book of Kings of Persia." The name is variously spelled, but most commonly Firdusi. 2Sir William Jones (1746-94), orientalist and jurist. Credited with being the pioneer of Sanskrit studies in the West. His Grammar of the Persian Language was published in 1771. EFG's annotated copy of the second edition is now in Cambridge University Library. 8Jones translates the passage to which EFG refers: "When the dust arose from the approaching army, the cheeks of our heroes turned pale; but I raised my battleax, and with a single stroke opened a passage for my troops: my steed raged like a furious elephant, and the plain was agitated like the waves of the Nile." 4 According to Dr. Fazlollah Reza, in 1977 Iranian Ambassador to Canada, the furious elephant probably refers to the legend of an enormous white elephant belonging to Zal, father of Rustum, which broke loose during Zal's absence and caused untold destruction. It was subdued by Rustum, a boy of fourteen at the time. Through etymological changes, Pyl came to mean "elephant," symbolizing strength and courage, the original meaning of the word.

To Bernard Quaritch Boulge, Woodbridge [October, 1853] Sir,

Will you be so good to pay the money for me to Mr. Donne, 12 St James' Square. Yours, etc. Edward FitzGerald

To Stephen Spring Rice 3, Park Villas, West Richmond, Surrey October 19/53 My dear good Spring Rice,

I have heard of you from the Tennysons. For I came to Twickenham this day week to see old Frederic before he set off for Italy: and after

October 1853 being some days there came on here to see my Brother Peter, who is just recovering (as we hope) of a most dangerous irruption of water on the Spine. Mrs. /j\ it was who told me of your having gone to the Isle of Wight. May it do you all good! Fred. T. is not yet gone after all; having had a summons to go again to Lincolnshire to meet that fellow D'Eyncourt who will be sure to bamboozle him anew. I shall perhaps see him again still before he gets clear off to Italy. I ought to go with him: but it is too much against my grain: and he has a friend at Florence he is very happy with: Browning die Poet: who is, I believe, a good fellow: and certainly a very clever one: with a vivacity of intellect very salutary to Grimsby.1 Alfred looks to me very shrivelled and dwindled: but is in good Spirits, and nurses his Child2 delightfully. But he will never write Poetry again, as I believe. I mean such Poetry as he was born to write. Which leads me to Calderon and my little jobs in that line. Such as they are, I am certainly glad you and any educated man of intuition should like them: for the Newspaper Critics condemn or sneer, and I had almost begun to think I had made an Ass of myself. As to some of the more famous plays, I think they should be lyrically translated: a thing I am not at all up to. Shelley should have done this: his "Magico" ought, I think, to have been all lyrical:3 a sort of better Opera: which no one could have done so well as he. Beside all this, my little bark's sale (a pun worthy of A ) will fail before the Reviewers' counter­ blasts. Enough of this. Are you quite just about Alex. Smith?4 I have only seen Extracts in the papers: I probably could not read a page of him: but he seems a man of Genius, who may work himself clear if the Cockneys don't spoil him. Ever yours E.FG. 1 Frederick. 2Hallam,

bom August 11, 1852. Shelley translated portions of El Mdgico Prodigioso which were published, without his "ultimate corrections," by Mrs. Shelley in Posthumous Poems, 1824. EFG privately printed his version of the play in 1865. 4Alexander Smith (1830-67), Scottish poet, whose first volume, Poems, had been published in March. 3

October 1853

To Frederick Tennyson 3, Park Villas,West Richmond, Surrey Saturday [October 22,1853] My dear Frederic, If you be got to Twickenham, and be inclined to go to Church with me tomorrow, you will find me on Richmond Bridge at half past ten. I can take you to a Chapel where a good little man holds out. E.FG.

To Stephen Spring Rice 3, Park ViUas,West Richmond, Surrey [October 24, 1853] My dear Spring Rice, After I had left you the other day it struck me that what I had said of old Alfred's port-drinking might be misunderstood by any who do not know him as well as we do: or might be casually mentioned by them to others who would misunderstand it. You know how the case is exactly: that there is no man less given to drink or eat for sensual pleasure: that some stimulus is necessary for him: and that he is too grand to care much what it is; and that a Bottle of Port is really nothing to a man with such a chest and Brain as his. I have doubted whether to write this to you, lest speaking of it again should make a fuss, and tempt others to believe there was something to excuse: which (except the—to us—great crime of so great a man taking anything which lessens the chances of his use to us) you know there is not. I do not wish you therefore individually to mention what I write on that point: but just to rectify any chance of a false impression before you go. Besides I believe that the old wretch has been careful of Black Strap1 quite lately. If you want to see some of Calderon's more famous Dramas, you can look at some literally translated by one Florence MacCarthy2 (Dol­ man, Bond St.) the announcement of which, as in the Press some months ago, forced me to put my name at the foot of my little Book. E.FG.

October 1853 1 EFG applies the term to inferior port wine, not to the mixture of rum and molasses, 2 Denis Florence MacCarthy, Dramas from Calderon, Tragic, Comic and Leg­ endary, 2 vols.

To E. B. Cowell 3, Park Villas, West Richmond, Surrey October 25/53 My dear Cowell, The Lady must write from your mouth whether I am to buy the Richardson1 which is of 1806—or buy the new Edition which will cost 30s. more. If the old one will do for the scanty requirement I want, I will have it. I think I forgot to tell you that Mr. MacCarthy (my literal Rival in Calderon) mentions in his Preface a masterly Critique on Calderon in the Westminster, 1851, which I take to be yours.2 He says it, and the included translations, are the best Commentary he has seen on the subject. I have ordered Eastwick's Gulistan:3 for I believe I shall potter out so much Persian. The weak Apologue4 goes on (for I have not had time for much here) and I find it difficult enough even with Jones's Trans­ lation. I am now going to see the last of the Tennysons at Twickenham. Madam had best address to me at W. B. Donne's 12 St. James' Square I hope to get to Suffolk the end of the week, or the beginning of next. Yours, E.FG. 1 Dictionary of Persian, Arabic, and English by John Richardson (1741-1811?), 2nd edn., 1806-10; 3rd edn., 1829. 2 In the Westminster Review, January, 1851, Cowell had reviewed History of Spanish Literature by George Ticknor and The Spanish Drama—Lope de Vega and Calderdn by G. H. Lewes, pp. 143-62. 3 The Gulistdn, or "Rose Garden," by Sa'di of Shiraz, translated into prose and verse, with an introduction and a life of the author by E. B. Eastwick (Hertford, 1852). The original, Sa'di's most celebrated work, is a book of morals, also in both prose and verse. Eastwick (1814-83), orientalist and diplomat, was professor of Hindustani at the East India College, Haileybury.

November 1853 4 The Gardener and the Nightingale in Sir William Jones' Grammar, 7th edn., pp. 107-15.

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone, Beccles Novr 21/53 My dear Cowell, I have not heard from either of you since I wrote to your better half in reply to her letter about the Weimar Professorship. Did she tear her hair, and think me a brute for my hardheartedness? Well: let me say (in confirmation of my own, and Donne's, opinion on that subject) that, on mentioning it afterward to Carlyle, he said "he had no idea of any such person as E.B.C. taking such an appointment:1 that he had recommended some poor Aberdeen man, who (I think he said) had acted as Amanuensis to him etc." The Aberdeen man was indeed rejected, simply because they wanted some one who could speak decent English, at least: but I think Carlyle said some one else had applied for the place, and was in the way to get it. But I may perhaps be writing in vain to you at Oxford and on such a subject. For you may be installed Professor, and already at Weimar! If you be not yet off, however, pray do you or Mrs. Professor let me hear of you. Well—my old Cottage is dismantled and deserted at last: all my goods carted to Farlingay (where they lie in vacant garrets) and I now abroad on the wide world. Mrs. Faiers and her husband have at present a good place at Boulge Hall. I was on the point of going to Ipswich at once: but, as an opportunity offered, I thought as well to pay some visits before Xmas, here and elsewhere. I have not looked at Persian for the last three weeks: occupied with moving and bother: and I have left, I am sorry to say, my Richardson behind me. But I shall look again over Jones' Grammar: re-write the weak Apologue— and send it to you. If you look in the last Athenaeum, you will see a very good Review of my rival's Calderon Translation:21 mean, a very Fair account of the exigencies of such a Translation. It agrees very much, I think, with what I myself said in the Advertisement to mine: [ have brought with [me] a Don Quixote to look over in my shallow way. Yours and the Lady's E.FG.

December 1853 1

The Cowell biography throws no light on the Weimar professorship. Cowell did not take his degree at Oxford until 1854. 2 Athenaeum, Nov. 19, pp. 1378-80. W. F. Prideaux, in Notes for a Bibliography of Edward FitzGerald (1901), p. 8, n., credits the review, and that of EFG's translation also, to John Chorley, an authority on Spanish drama who contributed occasional reviews to the Athenaeum. He was a brother of Henry Fothergill Chorley, music critic for the weekly.

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone Hall, Beccles [c. December 1,1853] When you have an idle half hour—not before—look at the enclosed translations. I was generally obliged to take the sense from Sir W. Jones: but have tried to be literally right: which in many instances I doubtless have not been. I shall soon send you the weak "Gardener."1 Not having brought my Richardson nor the Gulistan here I must keep to Sir W. Jones' Grammar: which will be no harm. I do a little every day. I have begun Don Quixote—the Spanish—and very pleasant it is. So pleasant, I am almost sorry I did not wait to do it with you some pleasant summer day in time to come. Yours E.FG. P.S. I have left out the unexpressed Vowels. 1

The apologue of "The Gardener and the Nightingale."

To Frederick Tennyson Bredfield Rectory1 Woodbridge December 27/53 My dear Frederic, I am too late to wish you a Happy Christmas; so must wish you a happy New Year. Write to me here, and tell me (in however few words) how you prospered in your journey to Italy: how you all are there: and how your Book progresses.21 saw Harvest Home advertised in Fraser: and I have heard from Mrs. Alfred it is so admired that

December 1853 Parker is to print two thousand copies of the Volume. I am glad of this: and I think, little ambitious or vain as you really are, you will insensibly be pleased at gaining your proper Station in public Celebrity. Had I not known what an invidious office it is to meddle with such Poems, and how assuredly people would have said that one had helped to clip away the Best Poems, and the best part of them, I should have liked to advise you in the selection: a matter in which I feel confidence. But you would not have agreed with me any more than others: though on different grounds: and so in all ways it was, and is, and will be, best to say nothing more on the subject. I am very sure that, of what­ ever your Volume is composed, you will make public almost the only Volume of Verse, except Alfred's, worthy of the name. I hear from Mrs. Alfred they are got to their new abode in the Isle of Wight. I have been into Norfolk: and am now come to spend Christmas in this place, where, as you have been here, you can fancy me. Old Crabbe is as brave and hearty as ever: drawing designs of Churches: and we are all now reading Moore's Memoirs3 with con­ siderable entertainment: I cannot say the result of it in one's mind is to prove Moore a Great Man: though it certainly does not leave him altogether "The Poor Creature" that Mr. Allingham reduced him to.4 I also amuse myself with poking out some Persian which E. Cowell would inaugurate me with: I go on with it because it is a point in common with him, and enables us to study a little together. He and his wife are at Oxford: and his Pracrit Grammar is to be out in a few days. I have settled upon no new Abode: but have packed up all my few goods in a neighbouring Farm House5 (that one near Woodbridge I took you to), and will now float about for a year and visit some friends. Perhaps I shall get down to the Isle of Wight one day: also to Shrop­ shire, to see Allen: to Bath to a Sister. But you can always direct hither, since old Crabbe is only too glad to have some letters to pay for, and forward to me. . . . We have one of the old-fashioned winters, snow and frost: not fulfilling the word of those who were quite sure the seasons were altered. Farewell, my dear Frederic. E.FG. 1 Actually

a vicarage, despite EFG's habitual reference to it as a rectory. Tennyson's Days and Hours, a book of poems published in 1854. "Harvest Home" is one of the selections. 3 Memoirs, Journal, and Correspondence of Thomas Moore, edited by Lord John Russell. The first six volumes of the eight-volume work had been published in 1853. 4William Allingham (1824-89), Irish poet. 5 Farlingay Hall, Job Smith's home. 2 F.

January 1854 To Ε. Β. Cowell Rectory, Bredfield Jan. 5/54 My dear Cowell, I thought to send you some Gulistdn difficulties before this: but I have not yet collected them. Not that I have not been at work: on the contrary I have done the first four Apologues, or Stories (with which I thought best to begin) find them pleasant, and (with the help of a Translation I have) easy: so as in fact I have but very few difficulties to send: but I will send a few when I copy out my rough Translations anew into a Copy Book. The idioms of the Language and forms of Eastern Thought are becoming more familiar to me: the pure Arabic I leave till I meet Major Hockley's Munshee.1 This Persian is really a great Amusement to me. I find my Dictionary very necessary to supply some words Eastwick omits. As to Jones' Grammar, I have a sort of Love for it! Instead of such Dry as dust Scholars as usually make Grammars, how more than ever necessary is it to have men of Poetic Taste to do it, so as to make the thing as delightful as possible to learners. I wrote to Madden2 and sent up the scrap from his Catalogue a fort­ night ago: but as I have not heard from him, I suppose the Hafiz was sold. I am very happy here, where I am made no stranger of: and am not yet in a mind to leave it, especially such a world of snow and cold as lies without. I am not quite sure whither I shall wend when I leave: perhaps to Geldestone: perhaps to Bedford; I may even take a lodging (if your wife knows of some very cheap one with Sunshine) at Oxford in my way to Bath. Don't ask me to go to yours; for that I won't: on all accounts wishing rather to have a den of my own. But all this is in nubibus as yet. I enclose you a note from Ticknor3 I had a week ago—as you will have some interest in seeing it. Don't trouble yourself to write—at least till I send you some Persian asking for answer. Does Mrs. E.B.C. know of any Housekeeping Cook who would suit the Tennysons? If so, let her write to them Farringford Freshwater Isle of Wight At least, this is what I make out of Mrs. A.T.'s writing. Ever yours, my dear Cowell, E.FG.

January 1854 A native secretary or language teacher in India. James Madden, 8 Leadenhall Street, London, primary distributor for works f the Society for the Publication of Oriental Texts. 3George Ticknor (1791-1871), former professor of belles-lettres at Harvard; uthor of The History of Spanish Literature, 3 vols. New York and London, 1849. 1

2

To Mrs. Cowell Bredfield Rectory Jan. 24/54 Ay dear Lady, You see I am not yet off: shall not be now till next week. I was to lave gone over to Ipswich this week, to have some Persian with the 4ajor: but I rather suspect he is going to Holbrook: so I shall waylay iim next week. Tell Cowell I get on famously (as I think) with Sadi,1 vhom I like much: he is just one of the Writers who can't be seen in a Translation: his merits are not strong enough to bear decanting I hink. Certainly Eastwick is wretched in the Verse: and both he and loss2 (I have both Versions) seem to me on a wrong tack wholly in heir Style of rendering the Prose. Because it is elegant Persian they ry to render it into Elegant English; but I think it should be translated omething as the Bible is translated, preserving the Oriental Idiom. It hould be kept as Oriental as possible, only using the most idiomatic !axon words to convey the Eastern Metaphor. What say you both to his? I have not sent Cowell any difficulties because, with my two Translations and Richardson's Admirable Dictionary I find but little ο send: and besides I may see you 'ere long: though I am not as yet [uite sure of my Course. I wrote twice to Madden about the Hafiz: >ut he had sold all. I have bought the Firdusi3 from Quaritch: and hall have some desire to read some pure Persian. For the Arabic vords seem to me the ugly ones, though perhaps needed to give muscle ο the Persian. But do not the two quotations from Firdusi in Jones' Grammar sound strong and grand enough? I like them best. You will hink I am Persian mad: but it is only writing to you two. I am glad lowever to make acquaintance with one Oriental Tongue with all its dioms. It has struck me—What then is the use of Good Advice! Here is a Jook of Capital Wisdom as current as a Proverb for near 1000 years η a Nation which yet has been (has it not?) about as Cruel and legraded as any? Or is Persia better than her Neighbours? Enough of this. Did you happen to hear poor George Crabbe lost his

January 1854 Wife4 after four days' illness resulting from her Confinement? There can hardly be a sadder case than his: his home was so happy while she lived and must be so desolate without her. E.FG. Sa'di-al-Shiraz (1190-1291). See letter to Cowell, Oct. 25, 1853, n.3. James Ross, A Life of Sa'di, with a translation of his Gulistdn, or Flowergarden, 1823. 3 The Shdhnameh. 4 She died January 8. 1 2

To E. B. Cowell [Bredfield] [January, last week, 1854] I did the enclosed for Exercise this morning. It is not sent for you to correct—for any such matter we can talk of when we meet. Only to amuse you with the progress such as it may be of your Pupil. E.FG. [Enclosure missing]

To E. B. Cowell Bredfield Febr. 13/54 My dear Cowell, I am today off from here and tomorrow expect to be at 12 St. James' Square for a week or so. Then to Bedford and Bath—perhaps taking a look at Oxford on my way. But this will depend, partly on you. I have not written because I supposed you very busy. I had two Eve­ nings with your Brother a week ago. He told me you were not yet quite decided whether to read for honours or not. And you had been tempted to India too? Major Hockley says it would have been quite bad for you to have gone on such ventures as were offered—I say, on any venture that can offer. But that is purely selfish perhaps. I had Persian with the gallant officer, who helped me to pronounce a few necessary words; else the Translations tell me all he can. I have now got to the 26th story of the second Book: and like it very much. That 1 is very awkward and ugly I think. It is wonderful how eternal ό

February 1854 inreadable the Translations are: and perhaps must be. The Gulistan 3 the Model of what a Book of Morals ought to be—so various, and licturesque. I have bought Quaritch's Firdusi, and shall take it up in .ondon: and also a little copy (or Selection) from the Bustan.21 count η reading Persian alone in Firdusi. Pickering's3 stock is all to be sold—he done up—and I must move tiy little stock elsewhere. His foreman, Mr. Craven, wrote that he was rying to set up shop if he could find a partner: and would I continue rith him? What is best in this little matter? Yours and Wife's ever, E.FG. 1 "To do." 2 The Fruit Garden by Sa'di. 3 William Pickering, who served as "publisher" of Euphranor, Polonius, and the -alderon plays.

To Mrs. Spring Rice 12 St. James' Square, London Febr. 16/54 Dear Mrs. Spring Rice, Do not think me ungrateful or uncourteous in not thanking you for our kind P.S. to your husband's letter. My plans and engagements aleady are, after being here a week or so, to go to Bedford, then perhaps ο Oxford, and then to Bath, when my Sister's Confinement shall be iver. If you should not be gone from Torquay it will be a great pleasire to me to run over and see you. Were it not that my purse is now so tarrow that I must make my visits in a line, I should not wait for a gradual approach to the West, but run off at once to see you. If Mrs. lVere be with you, pray give her all my best Remembrances: she inderstands, I hope, it is for such niggardly reasons as I have just tated that I have not run over to Dungate. Tell her the poor Lady vhose approaching confinement diverted my going to Watton and hence on to Cambridge, died—the wife of George Crabbe (the founger) Rector of Merton—Lord Walsingham's. A very sad case of ι happy marriage snapt suddenly after two years' continuance. I will et S. Rice know any further news of my mighty Progress: and am Ours, and his, and Mrs. Frere's, ever truly Edward FitzGerald

March 1854

To Mrs. Cowell 12 St. James' Square March 3/54 My dear Lady, Donne has written to you today, I believe, about the Quarterly. I am sure they will be glad of any Article from E.C. Let him set about one immediately and see. Why not the Mesnavi?1 Well, I believe I really am coming to Oxford in a few days—for my Bedford friends have themselves put off my Visit there. I shall trouble you for one line more to say if that little 12s. lodging be yet to be had: and then next week shall transport myself there. I shall not disturb you, except perhaps for an hour in the Evenings. Yours, E.FG. 1

See letter to Cowell, [Jan. 25, 1848], n.l.

To Mrs. Edward Donne1 London Library 12 St. James' Square Tuesday [March 7,1854] Dear Mrs. Donne, Allow me to thank you for the many kind messages (including good eatables) you have been so good as to send me. I am almost ashamed of having stayed so long with your son: but I feel honestly certain that I put him to as little inconvenience of any kind as a Guest can put a Host to. As for myself I must say I have never been so happy in London before. So as, if I were but to think of my own pleasure I should drag on my stay here by one excuse or another: but the longer I stay here, the more I shall feel going away. I am about to go to Oxford, chiefly to see the Cowells; though not to live at their house. I must once more begin solitary housekeeping. After Oxford, I go to see a Sister at Bath. I mean really to be off as soon as a bad Cold now upon me relaxes— the day after tomorrow, I think. I am glad you are coming to live here—it will be good for all parties, I think.

March 1854 Please give my regards to Blanche and Valentia,2 and believe me /ours very truly Edward FitzGerald 1 W.

B. Donne's mother. daughters.

2 Donne's

To W. F. Pollock [London] [March, 1854] My dear Pollock, "Ecce iterum, etc." with his customary little Article—I send it you because it is more a Man's Book,1 which you will exercise your Dis­ cretion upon in confiding to your better half. I have long intended to say something to you about your Dante2 which I now have: —but having put it off till I send you what I now send, I must wait awhile: lest one should seem to scratch for a Return. E.FG. 1

Euphranor. had published a translation of the Divine Comedy in December, 1853; he postdated it 1854. 2 Pollock

To W. F. Pollock 1 Long Wall Street, Oxford March 15/54 My dear Pollock, The whole history of my mighty Books is simply this. Wishing to do something as far as I could against a training System of which I had seen many bad effects, I published the little Dialogue; but not having (for several other reasons) any desire to appear Author, I only told it to three men whom I wanted to puff the little Book in case they honestly thought it worth puffing in a good cause. Spedding did "give me a wind" and Cowell (with whom I am here) another. Donne (who was my third man) for some reason or other did not puff the Book in print, but told my name in private; so as at last I was saluted with it in

March 1854 many quarters (above all in my own country neighbourhood where I least wanted it). So as at last, when Pickering broke up, and I put my small affairs into Parker's hand, I let him do as he liked, and lump all under one name. The Calderon I was obliged to print with some name because of a rival1 in the field; and so thought it as well at once to put my own. N.B. I don't tell this long story for the Book's sake; but, as you have been so good as to write on the subject, to account for what might seem a whim, and moreover, a change of Whim, which I don't wish my friends to think me too lightly guilty of. I should almost write to Spedding on the subject, but it would only trouble him: and he has charity enough to guess a kind reason for his friend's actions. Pray thank Mrs. Pollock for her message; this is not the proper occasion for me to say how much I value her opinion (except on Jenny Lind), which really is the case, though. I was detained in London by accidentally meeting some country Ladies whose Beau had been called away from them. So I offered my services in Street and Theatre. You may tell Spedding I saw Keans2 Richard III twice; and liked his Dress very much as King. Such very good colours. At last I have got down to this delightful Oxford. With many so pleasant personal associations with Cambridge, I have never got to like the place; which has always a sordid look to me. Here, as you know, are wide clean streets, and the Colleges themselves more pre­ sentable on the whole than the unsatisfactory new Gothic at Cam­ bridge. The facade of Christ Church to the Street (by Wren, I believe) is what most delights me: and the Voice of Tom in his Tower. Well—thank you again for your letter, and believe me yours ever, E.FG. No—no—my dear Donne is not meant to be Lexilogised3 by me in any way—nor any one else. You don't know Donne's fun yet. 1 MacCarthy's

Calderon. Charles Kean. 3 Coined from Lexilogus, the name of a bookish character in Euphranar.

2

May 1854 To Ε. Β. Cowell 15 Beaufort East, Bath Thursday [May 4,1854] dy dear Cowell, I am extremely obliged to you for the trouble you have taken about Iafiz—which I shall Hke to have to peep into whether I ever get to ead him or not. Do you however keep him at present (I hope you will ndeed make use of him). Surely we shall meet some Summer Day of .854 when I can both take my Book, and also some hints from you bout it. I shall reserve Salamans1 difficulties till the same Auspicious ime. I went to see old Landor,2 as I think I wrote you I was about to do. Ie was very polite—not a word about Literature—but showed me ome hundred and fifty pictures3 which he seemed to me to appreciate is indiscriminately as he does Men and Books. He is like the head of *oet Crabbe which my old Bredfield Neighbour has hung up in his 'arlour. A week ago I took up a Copy of Euphranor which I had not read ince it was printed, and marked out about a Bushel of Expletives. Do you happen to want any? I also saw where, as I think, some easy mprovements might be made. You told me once you had some Errata. wish you would send them when next you write. But don't write on mrpose, nor when you are otherwise busy. Lord Aberdeen was lamenting to Hudson Gurney the other day, "I, vho always hated War, should at last be Drawn into it!"4 Proving that ie is scarce fit to carry it on, I think. Adieu, dear Sir and Madam, E.FG. 'lease, dear Lady, a line to say the P.O. order reaches you—safe, I was ;oing to add—but it is Expletive. \S. P.S. I was carried off to Bradford suddenly after finishing this etter on Thursday, without time to get the P.O. order which accounts or the delay. Saturday. 1 Saldmdn and Absdl, a Su'fi allegory, the second poem in the Haft Aurang or !even Thrones by the poet Jami (1414-94). EFG published an abridgment of the tory, his first translation from the Persian, in 1856. 2 Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864), who lived at 35 St. James's Square, Bath, 838-58.

May 1854 3 "The

very doors had pictures on them," wrote Carlyle after visiting Landor in 1850 (Thomas Carlyle, Letters to his Wife, Trudy Bliss, ed., 1953, p. 261). 4 George Hamilton Gordon (1784-1860), Prime Minister, 1852-55, forced by the opposition to abandon his policy of nonintervention and support Turkey in the Crimean War. Blunders in the conduct of the war brought about the fall of Aber­ deen's administration within a year after EFG wrote.

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson 15 Beaufort East, Bath [May 7,1854] Dear Mrs. Tennyson, It appears I shall be leaving Bath just about the [time] you go to London. So I must e'en waive my Visit: and perhaps after all I shall see the Isle of Wight at, or near on, a Season when you say it consoles one for the Summer better than other places do. Bath is a very delightful place, though I dare say the Climate is not like little Wight's. But it seems to me greatly superior to Cheltenham or Leamington, or any other inland place of Gentility and Invalidism I have seen. I went to see old Landor the other day—who showed me about 150 pictures he has got—good, bad and middling—all first-rate to him, like his own Books—of which however he said nothing to me. I have bought a large Sheet of this paper and am going to write to old Frederic this very wet Sunday Evening. I believe I must send out for a Cigar to help me through—the Evening, I mean—not the letter— for I think I have enough to tell F. without difficulty. Yours and Alfred's very truly E.FG. I shall very likely be in Town in another fortnight, and I suppose shall be able to hear of you—or Alfred—or both—at Mr. Weld's.1 I shall try anyhow. I thought one day at Oxford I caught a glimpse of Mr. Palgrave.2 Has he invaded the Island yet? You will find Laurence's Portrait of Alfred3 at Donne's—I wish you would take it and keep it till, as I said, you get a better. 1Charles Richard Weld (1813-69), historian of the Royal Society and Mrs. Tennyson's brother-in-law. 2Francis Turner Palgrave (1824-97), later editor of The Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics, who had become acquainted with the Tennysons at Twicken­ ham. 3 See letter to Laurence, May, 1844, n.7.

May 1854

To Frederick Tennyson Bath May 7/54 My dear Frederic, You see to what fashionable places I am reduced in my old Age. The truth is however I am come here by way of Visit to a Sister11 have scarce seen these six years; my Visit consisting in this that I live alone in a lodging of my own by day, and spend two or three hours with her in the Evening. This has been my way of Life for three weeks, and will be so for some ten days more: after which I talk of flying back to more native Counties. I was to have gone on to see Alfred in his "Island Home" from here: but it appears he goes to London about the same time I quit this place—so I must and shall defer my Visit to him. Perhaps I shall catch a sight of him in London—as also of old Thack­ eray, who, Donne writes me word, came suddenly on him in Pall Mall the other day: while all the while people supposed the Newcomes were being indited at Rome or Naples. If ever you live in England you must live here at Bath. It really is a Splendid City in a lovely—even a noble—Country. Did you ever see it? One beautiful feature in the place is the quantity of Garden and Orchard it is all through embroidered with. Then the Streets, when you go into them, are as handsome and gay as London—gayer and handsomer because cleaner and in a clearer Atmosphere—and if you want the Country you get into it (and a very fine Country) on all sides and directly. Then there is such Choice of Houses—Cheap as well as Dear—of all sizes—with good Markets, Railways, etc. I am not sure I shall not come here for part of the Winter. It is a place you would like, I am sure: though I do not say but you are better in Florence. Then on the top of the hill is old Vathek's Tower,2 which he used to sit and read in daily, and from which he could see his own Fonthill, while it stood. Old Landor quoted to me "Nullus in orbe locus, etc.," apropos of Bath: he, you may know, has lived here for Years, and I should think would die here, though not yet. He seems so strong that he may rival old Rogers; of whom indeed one Newspaper gave what it called an "Alarming Report of Mr. Rogers' Health" the other day, but another contradicted it directly and indignantly, and declared the Venerable Poet never was better.3 Landor has some hundred and fifty Pictures— each of which he thinks the finest specimen of the finest Master, and has a long story about how he got it, when, etc. I dare say some are

May 1854 very good: but also some very bad. He appeared to me to judge of them as he does of Books and Men; with a most uncompromising per­ versity which the Phrenologists must explain to us after his Death. By the bye, about your Book4—which of course you wish me to say something about. Parker sent me down a Copy "from the Author" for which I hereby thank you. If you believe my word, you already know my Estimation of so much that is in it: you have already guessed that I should have made a different Selection from the great Volume which is now in Tatters.5 As I differ in Taste from the world, however, quite as much as from you, I do not know but you have done very much better in choosing as you have; the few people I have seen are very much pleased with it—the Cowells at Oxford delighted. A Bookseller there sold all his Copies the first day they came down: and even in Bath a Bookseller (and not one of the Principal) told me a fortnight ago he had sold some twenty Copies. I have not been in Town since it came out: and have now so little Correspondence with literati I can't tell you about them. There was a very unfair Review in the Athenaeum; which is the only Literary Paper I see: but I am told there are lauda­ tory ones in Examiner and Spectator. I was five weeks at Oxford, visiting the Cowells in just the same way that I am visiting my Sister here. I also liked Oxford greatly: but not so well, I think, as Bath: which is so large and busy that one is drowned in it as much as in London. There are often Concerts, etc., for those who like them; I only go to a Shilling affair that comes off every Satur­ day at what they call the Pump Room. On these occasions there is sometimes some Good Music if not excellently played. Last Saturday I heard a fine Trio of Beethoven. Mendelssohn's things are mostly tire­ some to me. I have brought my old Handel Book here and recreate myself now and then with pounding one of the old Giant's Overtures on my Sister's Piano, as I used to do on that Spinnet at my Cottage. As to Operas, and Exeter Halls,6 I have almost done with them: they give me no pleasure, I scarce know why. I suppose there is no chance of your being over in England this year —and perhaps as little Chance of my being in Italy. All I can say is, the latter is not impossible, which I suppose I may equally say of the former. But pray write to me. You can always direct to me at Donne's, 12 St. James's Square, or at Rev. G. Crabbe's, Bredfield, Woodbridge. Either way the letter will soon reach me. Write soon, Frederic, and let me hear how you and yours are: and don't wait, as you usually do, for some inundation of the Arno to set your pen agoing. Write ever so shortly and whatever-about-ly. I have no news to tell you of Friends.

May 1854 I saw old Spedding in London: only doubly calm after the death of a Niece he dearly loved and whose death-bed at Hastings he had just been waiting upon. Harry Lushington7 wrote a Martial Ode on seeing the Guards march over Waterloo Bridge towards the East: I did not see it, but it was much admired and handed about, I believe. And now my paper is out: and I am going through the rain (it is said to rain very much here) to my Sister s. So Good Bye, and write to me, as I beg you, in reply to this long if not very interesting Letter. Ever yours: E.FG. 1 Andalusia

de Soyres. William Beckford (1759-1844), author of Vathek (1782). Beckford had a fondness for towers. He had built one (278 feet high) at his former Gothic residence, FonthilI Abbey. He left Fonthill for Bath, where he built Landsdowne House, in 1822. The Abbey tower fell in 1825. 3 Samuel Rogers, banker and poet, died at the age of 92 in December, 1855. 4 Days and Hours. 5 Evidently a copy of the edition printed privately in Italy the year before. 6 See letter to Carlyle, Sept. 20, 1847, n.3. 7 "Three Points of War," published later in the year, was written by Franklin Lushington, not by his brother Henry. The Lushington family sent the correction to Aldis Wright (Trinity College MS). 2 "Vathek,"

To E. B. Cowell 15b Beaufort East Bath [c. May 12,1854] My dear Cowell, This is to give notice that I shall leave Bath early next week: on my road to Bedfordshire. I perhaps shall stay a few days in London— partly to see Thackeray and Tennyson who, I believe, are there; but I have no great fancy for London now. I will let you know of my move­ ments, and pray let me hear of yours in return. I was at Bristol last week and bought for "6 Ouseley's Bakhtydr Nameh1—a legible type and a free Translation. I dare say a stupid Book enough. I have found Salaman get much easier ever since I cried out to you how hard it was—and have just got to where he and Absal set off o n a camel (is that the same word as i j - · — 2 ? — o r does the latter mean Camel at all!) like two kernels in one Almond.

May 1854 By the bye it struck me the other day that "jumble" must be only a 3—do you think? I don't know if I have spelt the form of « Persian right. DeSoyres was reading aloud an Account of Schamyl4 in the West­ jZ-J-* 5 minster the other night: and, in a half doze, I heard about G and (?) and other points of Sufyism. I must read Tholuck7 after all, now I have got Salaman. You are not to suppose but I have left innumerable passages unexplained—which I propose to clear up one day with your help and perhaps my own revised Senses. Mean­ time the thread and intention of the Story is as clear—as Sufyism. It is a fine idea about Zuleika hedging in Joseph8 with her portraits— like a bit of Calderon—the only thing that has yet struck my Imagina­ tion in the Book. There are pretty Fancies: and always good Music. I wonder if you went to the same shop at Bristol I did—Kerslake, in Park Street. He has really a Wilderness of Books—many Oriental, I believe, in a dark corner, and his people know nothing about them. He was about to make a Catalogue and I gave him your Address to send one to. He had a most beautiful little Sanscrit (that character at least) MS., its width half the length of this paper, very long, and roll­ ing up into an Ivory Cylinder—bordered (the MS.) with gold and with illuminations at the top. He didn't know what it was, nor I. Yours and the Lady's, E.FG. 0 mean in Salaman? What does an eternal 1A

series of Persian tales translated by Sir William Ouseley in 1801. is puzzled by this word, meaning "camel litter," and by that meaning "camel." The characters are similar. 3 The word poses a problem. Professor A. J. Arberry (FitzGerald's SaMman and Absdl, Cambridge University Press, 1956, p. 11) thinks that EFG intended to write the word for "sentence"; archaically, EFG's Persian would mean "every­ thing." 4 Sultan Ben Mohammed Schamyl (1797-1871), "prophet-warrior" of the tribes of Daghestan, who for 25 years successfully opposed Russian efforts to conquer his country. Severe defeats in 1859 compelled him to surrender the following year. EFG refers to "Schamyl, the Prophet-Warrior of the Caucasus," The Westminster Review, April, 1854, pp. 254-75. 5 "Being a disciple and a follower." 6 "Truth." 7 Friedrich Tholuck (1799-1877), who had studied Oriental languages and lit­ erature before becoming a theologian at the University of Halle, Germany. EFG refers to his Ssufismus, sive Theosophia Persarum Pantheistica, Berlin, 1821. 8 In Yusuf u Zulaykhd, one of the stories in Jami's Haft Aurang. The story is based on a passage in the Koran. 9 Contraction of "that he." 2 EFG

June 1854

To Ε. Β. Cowell A. Tennyson's Farringford, Freshwater Isle of Wight June 8/54 Thursday My dear Cowell, Tennyson and I have been trying at some Hafiz in Sir W. Jones' Poeseos.1 Will you correct and send back the enclosed as soon as you can—giving us the metre and sound of any words very necessary to the music. Also tell us of any Odes to be got at in the Poeseos or Elsewhere, giving us the metre. A.T. will only look at Hafiz—in whom he takes interest. I have no time for more now. I have been here a week: and shall go hence on Monday to Spedding's in London. Write by return if you can: if you can't write while I am here, return the papers to A.T. You have not written to me for a month, I think. Am I in disgrace with Both? E.FG. You would do a very good deed to send A.T. some of the twelve Odes you have Translated, written in the Roman Character (metre marked) and a literal Translation under. 1

Sir William Jones, Poeseos Asiaticae Commentariorum Libri Sex, 1774.

To Alfred Tennyson 60 Line: Inn Fields June 15/54 My dear Alfred, I had a pleasant Voyage and Journey up to Town—where I got at 6 P.M. I now write before breakfast—not yet having seen old Spedding (who was out at his parties till about 3 this Morning—I heard the Wretch come home) nor shall I see him till tonight, I dare say, for I am setting off to breakfast with a Trustee, and after that a world of little matters. I called at Quaritch's to look for another Persian Dictionary. I see he has a copy of Eastwick's Gulistan for 10 Shillings: a Translation (not Eastwick's, however—but one quite sufficient for the purpose) can be had for 5s. Would you like me to buy them and send them

June 1854 down to you by next friend who travels your way: or will you wait till some good day I can lend you my Eastwick (which is now at Oxford)? I could mark some of the pieces which I think might not offend you to read: though you will not care greatly for Anything in it. Oh, such an Atmosphere as I am writing in! Yours, E.FG. I left my little Swedenborg at Farringford. Please keep it for me, as it was a gift from my Sister. Mrs. Tennyson reported to Elizabeth Cowell after EFG's visit to Farringford: What a pity you were not here with Mr. FitzGerald. . . . He was in the most delightful spirits and as amusing as man could be. Many days he took his sketch book with him in his long walks over the hills, for he has learned to climb hills; and then he would bring home a sketch or two and besides a beautiful horned poppy or an Iris or an orchid or a bit of fossil wood as trophies of the walk. You saw some­ thing of the fruits of his morning labours or at least Mr. Cowell did; in the evening he would sit down to the piano and play one glorious air after the other.1 1 MS

letter, Aug. 3, [1854], Cambridge University Library.

To E. B. Cowell (Fragment) [London] [c.June 19,1854] . . . it is the main street that leads from the Cathedral Green up to Clifton.* Ever yours, E.FG. Kerslake (of whom I bought a Book six weeks ago) told me he would send me, and you, a Catalogue when it was made out. Tomorrow I go to Crabbe's—Bredfield. 1

A suburb of Bristol.

July 1854 To Ε. Β. Cowell Merton, Watton, Norfolk [July, 1854] I do not hear whether you are proceeding with your GuIistdn Article. I find my new Johnson1 far better than my old Richardson, and alto­ gether am well pleased with the idea of trifling a little of the little (I believe) of Life that remains to me with these books which don't add much to Thought. I still intend one day to read over the Greek Plays. Does not the single Agamemnon—nay the single Opening of it—nay, almost a single line of the Opening—λάμπρους ΒυνάσTas ίμπρίποντα- 9 in it: for which I left a large hiatus in my translation. We had not arrived so far when I left Oxford.

September 1854 I ordered Jami's "liber jucundissimus"10 from W. and Norgate: it is not come yet. I thought 38s. too much for the Zuleikha. Certainly the diversities of the MS texts are awful: as I see in comparing some Hafiz Odes in De Sacy with the Book you sent me. By the bye when next you write (but don't write on purpose) tell me where I blunder about those Hafiz Errata, which I see you were kind enough to mark for me. I have learnt the easy Arabic numerals so as to avail myself of them: but I can not in any instance make the numbers in these Errata apply to the corresponding figures in the Text. No doubt this is my ingenious Stupidity. I had observed the double-shotting of some letters. I am looking over Malcolm's Persia which seems well done; by a Soldier and one who knew the Country he wrote about. I can't take much interest in the History itself: but I wished just to know where some of the Poetic Kings come in. I don't wonder [The remainder of the letter and the Jami ode mentioned are missing. Three other enclosures follow.] 1 Variations in spelling occur when Persian words are transcribed with English letters because no uniform transliteration has been established. 2 "Sweet." 3 A title formerly used for persons with property, Khan. 4 "Blood," phonetically khoon. 5 "Good youth." 6 "Young." 7 See letter to Cowell, [mid-Sept., 1854], 8 "Polo." 9 The two Persian words are erroneously used in the text EFG was translating. The error hinges on the confusion of symbols for the soft and guttural h's. The words EFG conjectures to be "goal" and "new moon," at the end of "The Game of Chaugan" (which follows) are correct. The text EFG was using, edited by Forbes Falconer, had been published by the Oriental Text Society in 1850. 10 The Bahdristdn or "Spring Garden." EFG ordered the Persian text and Ger­ man translation by Ο. M. von Schlecta-Wssehrd, Vienna, 1846.

Game of

1

Copied from a Hafiz MS. of the sixteenth Century belonging to Sir Gore [i.e., William] Ouseley. Two Horsemen contend for the Ball; we see the «-b* or Goals: servants on foot hold chugans for those who may join the game or to supply those that are broken. A young Prince, as his -¾ 2 would indi­ cate, receives, on coming into the 6'3 a chugan from a plainly drest, bearded, Man; which, "as a very intelligent Painter at Isfahan assured" Sir G. O. ("and as appears from other miniatures in the same Book") to be meant for Hdfiz himself—the feathered Prince, Ouseley

September 1854 thinks, perhaps emblematic of Hafiz' favorite among the Youth of Shiraz. The line of which this Picture is an illustration begins The object of the Game was to drive through the Goal with sticks having semicircular or straight transverse heads a Ball made of light Wood which the players, striking only at full Gallop tried to carry off from one another. It was played all through Persia, and a level plain near Shiraz [was] traditionally associated with it. The game is known among many forms in Europe—Golf, Hock[e]y, the Florentine "Calcio", and in Languedoc even with its Persian name "Chicane." The Byzantines had their T£vKavt£eiv. (Note. Sir John Malcolm says the Chugan was short: which does not appear in the MS. illumination. Ouseley however seems to infer it elsewhere when he quotes the Historian Tabri 5 speaking of Harun Alraschid 6 as "still little, so that when mounted on horseback he could not reach or strike the Ball with a Chugan."—E.FG.) I will transcribe the lines that refer to the 8 with h Salaman's entrance into the i the same hocky as It goes on;

7

s

9

After describing (which means

Can mean the "Goal"—or "Success"? If means, as I suppose, "new moon," it refers to the Crescent shape of the 1 "Polo." 2 "Feather." 3 "Maidan," parade ground or playing field. 4 "The crown of the King of Flowers appeared from the countryside." (The lines from Hafiz in their original context apply to the coming of spring.) 5 Usually Tabari (c. 839-923), Arabian historian. EFG took his spelling from Ouseley. 144

September 1854 [FitzGerald copied his picture of the polo game from Ouseleys Travels in Persia, vol. I, plate XXII. He carefully reproduced the de­ tail of the plate, even to the polo sticks projecting beyond the fourline border. The Persian script in the corner of the picture is duplicated in the caption.]

[Welcome, Prince of Horsemen, welcome! Bide a field and strike the Ball.]

September 1854 [FitzGerald enclosed the following sketches with that of the polo game in his letter of September 17.]

[Sheikh Sadi]

[Master Hafiz]

Portraits on one of the Persian Palaces ( I think, Shiraz)—of course, fanciful—

146

September 1854 6 Caliph of Bagdad (763-809), who figures in many of the tales in the Arabian Nights. ·> "Goal." 8 "Maidan." 9 "Polo stick." 10 "Polo." 11 One by one using the polo stick And looking for the goal, A hundred new moons surrounding one moon. Although everyone was hitting the ball SalamAn was more skillful than the others. He took the ball away speedily. The ball was the moon and SalAman the sun— The crescent stick chasing the moon He rushed toward the goal, shouting, "Goal! goal!"

To E. B. Cowell [Bredfield] [September 18,1854]

A line to say that this morning in Bed I found out the law of those Errata—to discover which I had (more meo) tried every way except the right. This I tell you lest you should trouble yourself to answer my yesterday's dilemma in the matter. Pray don't answer these letters: unless you want something out of the Travel Books I happen to have with me. By the Bye I was glad to get with Ouseley last Evening to Tehran, where, at last, Prince Ali Shah saluted the Ambassador's ears with the long a before η "pronounced exactly as in Italian." It was in the Southern Persia where he had heard it turned into oo. At last come out Iran, Isfahan, as they doubtless ought. Ouseley says that at first he was "surprized, and, I confess, not very agreeably" by this broad "though now correct sound"—which is a weakness in this Traveller. He had previously spoken of the long oo as if its proper sound were that of our "all-ball-war"—which again is not the Italian a. I shall stick to Prince Ali's elocution. The Southerns, Ouseley says, affected not only a but a way of talking: and what a shame that this oo busi­ ness flourished at Shiraz and Isfahan! Ouseley says the tendency of the Persians is to smooth away sounds—as it will be in all colloquial talk, I suppose; will be also as a people declines in vigour; and would naturally be more than usually so with the Persians. He mentions that in one place a certain Dome JLJUS was pronounced ju^S2 with which

October 1854 sound so long ago a Traveller as Chardin3 had written it down. This does not prove that the word was always pronounced as with a final j, but only some particular monument often referred to by the People. How astonishingly learned we are become! The weakness of the last remark is a study to myself. But am I [to] get my Italian a no further than "before n"?

When you write, give me the last word of the first line of each of the Hdfiz Odes you translated: as that directs me to their whereabout in my Edition.5 I think Tholuck says that in the Kuran Spirit and Body are typed by - ,-*1^ .6 In our Salaman in the of the Man who asks the Sheikh to pray that he may have a Son—he (the Man) says

which does not throw light, but shows one's Learning. 1

"Sweet"; "very sweet." "Gombad" (dome), colloquially pronounced "gombaz." 3Sir John Chardin (1643-1713), French jewelry merchant and traveler, who spent many years in Persia and India. In 1681, because of persecution of Protes­ tants in France, he settled in London where he wrote of his travels. He was knighted by Charles II. 4 "And after the death of Khaje Hafiz his believers and companions put his poems into order." 5 In Persian MSS lyrical poems were commonly arranged in their diwan or alphabetical order. The place of each selection was determined by the final letter of the rhyming word. 8 "Earth and water." 7 "Story." 8 "From my earth and water will grow a young cypress who will comfort my heart." In Persian poetry the cypress is the symbol of grace and beauty. z

From W. B. Donne L[ondon] L[ibrary] October 2,1854 My dear FitzGerald, It was I who made the blot, and not my people, inasmuch as I directed your box with my own hand, and omitted "Goods Train"—so please to keep the blotting paper.

October 1854 I should not have written about this alone; but, this morning I have a note from Parker in which he tells me that Cowell's paper on Hafiz in Fraser is very highly thought of: and as I wish Cowell to know this forthwith, and do not know where he is, I tell it you in hopes you may be able to communicate it speedily to him. Parker will be very glad of further contributions. I am delighted by your intimation that we are soon to see you here, after the 21st inst. I can give you a bed as the boys will be at Cambridge. I have given your message to Ffanny] K[emble] who bids me return it with interest: I dine with her today to get a glimpse of Sartoris,1 who is off for Lucca tomorrow. The party is going to see the first representation of Taylor and Reade's2 new Play, "The King's Rival," at the St. James Theatre. But I do not think I shall be with them, as my mother is not very well, and I shall be glad to be with her. Ever yours, Wm. B. Donne 1 Edward 2 "Tom"

Sartoris, husband of Fanny Kemble's sister Adelaide. Taylor and Charles Reade.

To Thomas Carlyle Rectory, Bredfield, Woodbridge Saturday, October 14/54 Dear Carlyle, I should sometimes write to you if I had anything worth telling, or worth putting you to the trouble of answering me. About twice in a year however I do not mind asking you one thing which is easily an­ swered—how you and Mrs. Carlyle are? And yet perhaps it is not so easy for you to tell me so much about yourself, for your "well-being" comprises a good deal! That you are not carried off by the Cholera I take for granted: since else I should have seen in the papers some controversy with Doctor Wordsworth as to whether you were to be buried in Westminster Abbey—by the side of Wilberforce1 perhaps ! Besides, a short note from Thackeray a few weeks ago told me you had been to see him. I conclude also from this that you have not been a Summer excursion of any distance. I address from the Rectory (Vicarage it ought to be) of Crabbe, the "Radiator," whose mind is now greatly exercised with Dr. Whewell's Plurality of Worlds.2 Crabbe, who is a good deal in the secrets of

October 1854

Providence, admires the work beyond measure, but most indignantly rejects the Doctrine as utterly unworthy of God. I have not read the Book, contented to hear Crabbe's commentaries. I have been staying with him off and on for two months, and, as I say, give his Address because any letter thither directed will find me sooner or later in my little wanderings. I am at present staying with a Farmer in a very pleasant house near Woodbridge: inhabiting such a room as even you, I think, would sleep composedly in; my host a taciturn, cautious, honest, active man whom I have known all my Life. He and his Wife, a capital housewife, and his Son, who could carry me on his shoulders to Ipswich, and a Maid servant who, as she curtsies of a morning, lets fall the Teapot, etc., constitute the household. Farming greatly pros­ pers; farming materials fetching an exorbitant price at the Michaelmas Auctions—all in defiance of Sir Fitzroy Kelly3 who got returned for Suffolk on the strength of denouncing Corn Law Repeal as the ruin of the Country. He has bought a fine house near Ipswich, with great gilded gates before it, and by dint of good dinners and soft sawder finally draws the country Gentry to him, though they pretend to ex­ claim against his notorious lies and even perjuries. Please to look at the September Number of Fraser's Magazine where are some prose Translations of Hafiz by Cowell which may interest you a little. I think Cowell (as he is apt to do) gives Hafiz rather too much credit for a mystical wine-cup, and Cupbearer; I mean taking him on the whole. The few odes he quotes have certainly a deep and pious feeling: such as the Man of Mirth will feel at times; none per­ haps more strongly. Some one by chance read out to me the other day at the seaside your account of poor old Naseby Village from Cromwell, quoted in Knight's "Half Hours,"4 etc. It is now twelve years ago, at this very season, I was ransacking for you—you promising to come down, and never coming. I hope very much you are soon going to give us some­ thing: else Jerrold and Tupper5 carry all before them. Here is a long letter, which does not need a long answer however. Remember me very kindly to Mrs. Carlyle and believe me yours ever Edward FitzGerald 1William

Wilberforce (1759-1833), philanthropist and abolitionist. In 1853 William Whewell, Master of Trinity College, published anonymously Of the Tluraltty of Worlds, a treatise in which he denied the probability of plan­ etary life. 3Sir Fitzroy Kelly (1796-1880), a controversial conservative, M.P. for East Suffolk, 1852-66. 2

November 1854 4 Charles Knight (1791-1873), author and publisher, Half Hours with the Best Authors, 4 vols., 1847-48. 5 Douglas Jerrold, who was editing Lloyd's Weekly at the time. Martin F. Tupper (1810-89), miscellaneous writer, noted for his partiality for platitudes.

To E. B. Cowell Farlingay, Woodbridge October 18,1854 My dear Cowell,

After this note I shall scarce write to you till after your Troubles are over—to prevent your taking up any time in replying. I have had Waring's Tour1 in Persia which has given me near a dozen more Hafiz Odes—but incompletely translated. Some of them will be worth your looking at when you return to the East.2 I count much on talking over some of these matters with you before long. I will only now give you the first line of an Ode you said you wanted: 3

which has the quite universal comparison of Life with running water in it. I have been here a week and may be some little while longer, so quiet is it. But I must soon be packing up for Geldestone. I am called to tea—at a quarter to 5 P.M.! Yours and hers, E.FG. 1 Edward

Scott Waring, Tour of Sheeraz, Bombay, 1804, London, 1807. is, when he returns to his studies of Eastern languages after taking his degree at Oxford. 3 "A single rose-cheeked one from the Rose-garden of the world is enough for me," opening line of an ode of Hafiz. The Persian text which EFG used, together with a German translation, can be found in Hdfiz, Der Όίνοάη, Vincenz Ritter von Rosenzweig-Schwannau, ed., 3 vols. Vienna, 1858, II, 86. 2That

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone HaU, Beccles Nov. 28/54

I heard two days ago from your Brother (to whom I had written for information) you were in the First Class. Accept my Congratulations

December 1854

(among many, doubtless) and, if you have now leisure, let me have a line to say your Health is none the worse for your Honours. 1 came here ten days ago, and have just (and only just) taken up Zuleikhd. I find it hard but really very good, at the beginning: and I pursue the original plan of making the German teach me Persian and Vice Versa—I think a really good plan. I had previously pickt up some of the grammatical forms of German from Ollendorf,1 and also got my nieces to read with me a little here; and I find the German thus both Assisting and Assisted. I am not sure I shall go through all the Pane­ gyrical Preambles of the Story now: but perhaps begin on the Story soon. We shall see how Patience wears. Are you now reading for Mathematic Honours,2 etc.? Don't write if you are otherwise much occupied: if not, let me hear from you. Yours and Miladi's, E.FG. 1 H - G . Ollendorf, teacher of languages in London who published a number of grammars based on his "new method of learning languages." 2 Cowell took first-class honors in humane letters, but sat only for a pass in mathematics. However, he did so well that he was awarded an "honorary fourth."

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone, Beccles Dec. 17/54 My dear Cowell, I was really very glad indeed to hear from you. I must repeat, I never wish you to write when you are busy: nor did I wish you to write so long a letter now, especially if your head wanted rest. I only wanted a line; else I had begun to think I was one of the heroes gone down to Hades—not perhaps without deserving it. You will understand (what I am very sure of) that my last to you was not the offended dignity of unanswered letters: but that I really was very anxious to be assured I was yet worth answering by one of the very few people whose interest I the least care for. You (though a comparatively late acquaintance) are on the same shelf with the older few who yet redeem the world to me: the Tennysons, Speddings, Aliens, Thackerays and Donnes! Well, I had arranged to stay here till over Christmas Day: and then to move away for awhile—to escape some parties about to come off. Your letter now fixes me to go to Ipswich for that while—thither I shall go on Tuesday week, and take a little lodging. Then I hope we may do

January 1855 Saldmdn together—or whatever else of Barbarous you will. I am very glad to hear of the Hafiz business, which I hope you will now have Time and Health to carry out—no one so fit. I passed over some of the preliminary Chapters about the Prophets, and Sultan Hussein, and am now just going to Zuleikha's second Dream. I shall of course bring the Book with me, as you will like to have a look at it. Salaman has the advantage of being shorter and compacter—a great thing in Eastern Literature, I fancy: and the Allegory, imperfect as it is, is of general and ever-vital significance. But Zuleikha has beautiful things in it. And one feels sure of old Dschami that he, at least, was a genuine Mystic: that his Wine was of Spiritual Vintage. Well then, all this I hope to talk over with you now very soon. You say nothing of "Missus"—who yet I hope is well, and will endure me and all my perversities a little longer. Hers and yours E.FG. I have at last got the "Baharistan"1 whose "physiognomy"2 is inviting, though I have not yet been induced to go farther. I shall bring it with me of course. Hdfiz I have not touched since leaving Farlingay. 1 EFG used the German edition of Jami's Baharistan, Der Friihlings-garten (Persian text and German translation), Ο. M. von Schlechta-Wssehrd, ed., Vienna, 1846. 2 The word is used by EFG in the sense of "general features" or "outline."

To E. B. Cowell Bredfield Rectory Jan. 10/55 My dear Cowell, The enclosed partly concerns you.1 As you are going to Town you can see to it. I shall say nothing about the Calderon (which I don't know who proposed) but that I know of no other new Translations but the Rival's, who forced me to add my name to mine—one McCarthy— whose Book I had meant to show you one day: and could send you if you wanted. In looking over my Saldman I think I see how that could be com­ pressed into a very readable form: and should like to manage it with you. You have brought all the Scholarship, and really the Intellect: perhaps I may have the tact to dish up the poem neatly: I mean in

February 1855 shape: for believe me your English will be wanted here quite as much as I think mine is wanted in other matters. But don't you or Wife talk of any such intention of ours, or mine; for what I propose is a very little affair, and I hate any of my dabblings to make me seem to set up Author. Let me hear of you some day—but never when unwell or busy. E.FG. 1

Enclosure missing.

To E. B. Cowell Tavistock Hotel Covent Garden, London Friday, Febr. 9, [1855] My dear Cowell, I send you by this Post a metrical Abstract of Salaman—more, mind you, for the sake of the Form of the Story, than for its Verse. All the better parts would be better in such measured prose as you did Hafiz in; but in most places I found it easier to carry on the Narrative, and Lighter, parts in some lilt of Verse: and so was obliged to keep in one Key. I have also done that for which I blamed Eastwick; namely, losing the Eastern Grammar in a terser European—and English—Idiom. He who could do it well, might best Translate Jami in a sort of Chaucer simplicity of narration—with its repetitions, and simple form of Expression. Such as it is here it is for you to read and correct. Do the latter freely; for I assure you all I have ever said to you about English style referred, not to the Choice of Words, but only (as I think you know) to the compaction of the sentence in such a writer as Hafiz. Even in this respect, you see, I doubt if I have not overdone the laxer Jdmi. I have always used the English rendering I found pencilled after your dictation, as the best—the best in English as well as the safest in regard to accurate Translation. So I wish very sincerely you would, if you have time, note down any more correct, or felicitous, English you think of. I have altered nothing; except by the Word "shame" at page [left blank in MS] hinted at what might properly be Salaman's cause of Despair that leads to his Funeral pile. He flies from home because of Anger at the King's first reproaches; but he should burn himself be­ cause of Shame at his second; else any Change of Anger is sudden and

February 1855 unreasonable after he has repented etc. And Shame causing a loathing of Life is the natural motive of having recourse to that Fire of Asceti­ cism which is to burn away his Evil Alloy. But, if this seems to you too great a liberty, "Shame" is easily done away; and Salaman left to the recoil of Anger which is certainly indicated in the Text. I must warn you there are many Transpositions, also; so as to compact the Narra­ tive—and so, very likely, to injure it. All this was done (only not written out) a fortnight ago. But since that my Time has been occupied with staying out at Stutton and re­ turning to Boulge to attend my Mother's Funeral.1 She died very sud­ denly, and quite easily, last Tuesday week. I am now come to London to plague, and to be plagued by, Lawyers, Trustees, and Chancery. I am going to a Lodging: but have scarce heart to look for one in this Snow. I wish you would be kind enough to send one line by return of Post here, just to say if my packet comes to you safe: and please to take care not to lose any of the pages, as I have no other Copy. I think with some notes, Salaman might be made an Acceptable Story: but I don't know if you will like to have a hand in him. He can easily be brought back to prose: as I say, will gain in the better parts. Several parts of my Version are unsatisfactorily done; I wish you would give me a Version of the First Piece—the Invocation. Do not write if you be busy or unwell—only a line—or direct an Envelope only—to let me know you have the MS. Yours and Wife's E.FG. The little "Stories"2 might be printed in Italics—to divide them further from the Text. Again jjggr3 Say nothing of all this! 1 She

died at Brighton, January 30, aged 75. Apologues, anecdotes, often amusing, included in longer Persian poems to illustrate and lighten the didacticism. 2

To E. B. Cowell 19 Charlotte St. Rathbone Place [Mid-February, 1855] My dear Cowell, You see I am got into Quarters whither you have often directed Letters to me before; and where you have often visited me, I think. I

February 1855 had to call at the Tavistock yesterday and found your letter—for which many thanks. You know I only wanted you merely to acknowl­ edge the receipt of Salaman; and I now write to prevent you troubling yourself to write any further about it till quite, or more, at Leisure. I am sure you will like it more than it deserves; but you may not think it a thing properly producible after all; else, I should want you to correct, and annotate it. For it really is a very little, but complete, Epos, of general and perennial Interest. You will understand why I had recourse to Verse, which I deprecated in Hafiz. I am afraid you think me still too hasty and harsh a Critic about your own Papers, since you don't tell me of them till they are printed and abroad. I saw Parker, and bought the new Magazine last week: not only for your Paper,1 but also for one on Whewell's Book2 which I want to send to Crabbe. I will say still that I think your Subject required a larger Field: but, as you say, it may be wide enough for the present Oxford Interest in the Subject. I wish you to understand always my very sincere meaning in all the fault I ever find with you; that I do not find fault with what you can do so easily, but only for your not always doing it—doing justice to yourself—owing very much to your Modesty and Optimism. Whenever I work with you I see clearly how complete is, not only your Understanding, but Poetical Appreciation of all these things—which latter sets you so above the Scholar only, and so fits you to be the Expounder of all these things. No man need to pray for a more Complete Mind for all such purpose: for a clearer Perception, nor for an Easier or Better Mode of conveying it to others. Yours E.FG. P.S. Miss Barton bids me tell your Madam that she (Miss B.) called upon her at Ipswich; but too late. P.S.2 You never tell me how your Madam is: and she won't—is her Foot well? 1 "Persian

Literature," in the first

volume of Oxford Essays, published from

1855-58. 2

Of the Plurality of Worlds, adversely reviewed in the volume.

March 1855

To Ε. Β. Cowell 19 Charlotte St. Rathbone Place [Late March, 1855J Dear EBC, Are you coming up to Town this Vacation? If not, and you are free of pupils, I may perhaps run to Oxford to see you: taking up abode at my old Lodging. But if you come here I won't go. You have never answered two or three questions I asked you: but you have, I know, been busy. E.FG.

To E. B. Cowell 19 Charlotte St. Rathbone Place [Late March, 1855] My dear Cowell, Pray do not trouble yourself to write while you are busy. You have answered all I had to ask. As to your Essay in the new Review, under­ stand I did not claim to see it before publication—only thought I might be such a Bugbear of Criticism as not even to hear of such a thing in the wind. The Ode you send of Jami is charming: and you will understand also that, were Salamdn all like it, I should not meddle with Verse which, as I conduct it, in some measure obliterates the Original Character. But Salaman is both much longer—is a Story, not an Ode— and has much of level, and even jocose, writing, which I at least found easiest to make readable with some conventional Music. I am very glad you have found out these Jdmi Odes, which you must give us in Fraser. They will amuse you to translate—and us to read— and also be of some profit, I hope, to your pocket at little expense of your Brains. Then there is the Mesnavi. I have bought William's and Norgate's German Translation: am about to get Hammer's Hafiz:1 and am now looking again into Zuleikhd at such times as the Lawyers let me.

April 1855 Today I am going to dine with Thackeray. Good Bye for the present, my dear Cowell. Yours and the Lady's E.FG. When you write, let me hear how you found the Stearns2 at your visit. 1 Der Diwan von Mohammed Schemsed—din Hafis, translated by Joseph von Hammer, 2 vols. Stuttgart, 1812. The translator altered his name in 1835 to von Hammer-Purgstall. 2 Farmers at Elmsett with whom Elizabeth Cowell's sister Maria made her home.

To E. B. Cowell (Fragment) [London] [Early April, 1855] . . . prefer it in undress. Don't take the trouble to write long about it, since before long I hope to see and talk to you on that and other things: but if you have seen many or any mistakes correct them—or tell me there are some, and we will correct when we meet. I dare say there are many mistakes in some of the Early part about "Women" and "Sons" which I did not do with you. The Poem will improve by cutting away the long and rather silly Account of Absal's Beauty: which comes too near upon that of Salam£ns. They both are disproportioned to the Whole Poem; but The Easterns must have their say about Eyebrow "Nttns"1 etc. I am reading Zuleikhd which I don't think half as good as SaMman. Also I have got Hammer's Hafiz: which, with my Persian Dictionary are going to be bound by Williams and Norgate. Donne is lecturing at the Royal Institution:2 I have heard him once, and am now going to smoke a Cigar with old Spedding. So Good Night. Yours and Lady's ever E.FG. Let me know, when you have leisure, your Corrections of poor little Euphranor, whom I will reprint before long, cut down in his preten­ sions, small as they are. 1 "Eyebrow

Nuns" refers to the resemblance, often noted by Persian poets, be­ tween the letter nun ( N ) a n d a n i n v e r t e d e y e b r o w .

April 1855 2 Donne gave a series of eleven lectures on English literature at the Royal Institution in 1855.

To E. B. Cowell 19 Charlotte St. Rathbone Place April 16/55 My dear Cowell,

I got to London all safe and going to Lincoln's Inn found of course that our Cause was not to get into Court till next Saturday—if then! Meanwhile I wish you would look and tell me whether there be any MS of Salaman in any of the Ouseley MSS. Falconer mentions that two Df those he compiled from were once in Sir Gore Ouseley's possession. Qne would suppose from that notice of those so-called Salaman and i\bsal Statues1 I sent you in the Summer that Sir William O. had never read the Book: as he talks of them as characters in Persian 'Romance", as I remember: as if mythical. Then look here. At Salaman: page a V line Λ 5.2

ifou construe, "He now contrived how that old Hag of Fate should pour poison into Firhad's cup, etc." You mean, "Fate, the old Hag?" Why I ask is that on looking at some notes from Malcolm's History of Persia I find in a memorandum of his Version of the Story that when Firhad had just cut through the Rock for which he was to have Shereen :or a reward, KhosrH sent an Old Woman to tell him Shereen was dead·, whereon Firhad casts himself headlong from the Rock etc.3 This is anyhow quite a different Version of the Story from Jami's; aut could the concrete Old Woman have got into his Version—or does ie only tell of unsubstantial Fate? Tell me this and that as soon as you can. E.FG. [ bought for Is. on Saturday night an old Translation of Chardin's Persia4 (a Frenchman two hundred years ago) giving an account of lie and wonderfully corroborative of Salaman's Exercises. I will send it to you. 1 See

letter to Cowell, [mid-Sept., 1854]. 52, line 860."

2 "Page

April 1855 3 EFG

refers to a famous Persian legend, "Parwiz and Shereen," which recounts the story of Shereen, wife of Emperor Khusro Parwiz, and her lowly lover, Firhad. The story is summarized by Sir John Malcolm, History of Persia, 2 vols., 1815, I, 161-62. 4 For Chardin, see letter to Cowell, [Sept. 18, 1854], n.3. 5 "Polo" and "shooting."

To Mrs. Cowell London Saturday [April 21,1855] My dear Lady, Thank you for your letter. Don't let EBC answer my nonsense when he is ill or disturbed. Tell him I shall offer Saldman to Fraser: and, if he won't have it, I will print a few copies for private hands only, and thus have the opportunity of saying how little of what merit there is in the Translation belongs to me. I should like to do this almost more than Fraser by way of a little Monument of our Studies together. I enclose a letter of his with a very admirable account of the "In­ telligences" which I want to print as a note to the Text it illustrates:1 and I really don't know how the matter could be put better than it is here. Don't lose the Letter, please: but return it carefully to me. Tell EBC I saw a very handsome MS. Hafiz, Octavo size, at Boone's in Bond St. £.3.3. Is it worth buying? Also doesn't he think that what we translate the Mole on Persian Cheeks is sometimes The Patch?2 as in Salamdn where Absdl adds a grain to her Rose Cheek to snare the Heart, etc. Also, Today we went before the Master of the Rolls and our Case is mainly judged—and Law of the Land. Only there is no telling what crazy Clients and knavish Lawyers might do still.3 Anyhow the final settlement cannot be yet. I doubt I can't get to Blackheath: but am yours and hisn E.FG. I won't say a word about Mr. Cawley.4 1 Cowell's

note appears on p. 72 of the first edition of EFG's Absdl, and has been retained in all subsequent editions. 2 EFG's interpretation was correct. Absal used beauty patches as and "surma" (corresponding to mascara) to ensnare Salaman. 3 Donne wrote to Fanny Kemble the following year, "I must tell correspondence of his with certain lawyers. He had to do in the

Saldmdn and well as rouge you of a little course of his

May 1855 long family suit with a firm called "White and Borrett"—for lawyers respectable people enough. Edward however thought they meant to cozen him and told them as much, whereupon they threatened him with an action for traducing their good name, on which he replied that he had no concern with their name, and that for aught he cared they might style themselves 'Bite and Worrit.' He could not have staved off an action more advisedly, such a nickname was quite unproducible in a Court of Justice" (Donne and Friends, pp. 206-07). 4 William Cawley, who had taken a degree at Oxford with Cowell in 1854.

To E. B. Cowell London May 2, [1855] My dear Cowell, I have your note this morning. I was to have left London last week: but have waited here and shall wait till Friday when I shall leave— probably for Crabbe's with whom two of my Nieces are staying. But I shall probably have to be up in London again e're long to settle my Law which so far moves on prosperously enough I am told. Events have proved (so far as they can prove what also stood on more certain proof without them) that the Advice I took in opposition to the rest of my Family was quite right. I have packed up my Books so cannot get at my Hafiz: but I shall begin again when I unpack, and then send you my commentaries on your two Odes; which read so rich and warm 1 don't think my masterly hand will be wanted on them. I was amused to find that I had one very powerful Ally in sifting away of "that," "the," "which," etc. Whom do you think? Miss Seward!1 Now about Salaman; I pasted those scattered leaves into a Book, re-writing some, and left it with Parker;2 who, however, was afraid it was too long: and, on showing it to his Editor, doubts if it would be of a nature to suit his Magazine. So there is no use my sending it you now while you are busy in Term time. I feel a desire to put it in Type both because I like it so much, and as a record of our pleasant study to­ gether; there can be no great Vanity in the desire I suppose, since really (whatever merit my Translation may have) I have done nothing in this but compacted the Story into a producible Drama and reduced the rhetoric into perhaps too narrow a compass. I read this morning some curious stories of the Egyptian "fellahs," or Villagers in Bayle St. John's Village Life in Egypt3—a Book worth your looking at. One is a story of Sikander4 who has two horns on his

May 1855 head; of which he is ashamed. He goes to a Barber to get his head shaved; with promise of large reward if he do not divulge the Horns; threat of impalement if he does; the Barber cannot however contain his Secret; is tempted to tell it to Camels, Dogs, Hogs, and Birds: but afraid lest somehow they should tell it to Sikander, gets down into a Well under a Water Wheel; and confides to a frog there, "Iskander-Ioo' —ornein" (Iskander has two horns) which the Wheel takes up di­ rectly—"Iskander-Ioo'—ornein—nein—nein" and which also the riverreeds take up "ein—ein—ein," till it reaches Sikander's ears, who has the Barbeif taken and impaled. You did not tell me whether one ought to buy that £-3 Hafiz MS. I wrote you about in Bond St. Yours and the Lady's ever E.FG. Nor did you tell me about your own letter concerning the Intelligences which I enclosed to you in my last: and which don't lose. 1Anna

Seward (1747-1809), friend of Scott, who published an edition of her verse in 1810. 2 J . W . P a r k e r ( 1 7 9 2 - 1 8 7 0 ) , p u b l i s h e r o f Frasers Magazine since 1847. 3 Published in 1852. 4 Both Sikander and Iskander are accepted transliterations of the Persiar· for Alexander.

FitzGerald apparently sent Cowell his version of the story of Iskander that he mentions in the preceding letter, for the following, in FitzGeraMs handwriting, was found among the Cowell manuscript letters: Iskander had two Horns on his head, which he hid under a Turban, and never showed but to his Barber, who was deaf and dumb. One day in his Progress he stopped at Tanta; and, feeling his head itch, sent for his Barber to shave him. But his Barber's hands were numbed. So Iskander sent for the Tantawi Barber, who saw, and shaved his Head, and was sent away with a Reward of Gold, coupled with a Threat of Impale­ ment if he told the Secret of Iskander's Horns. The Barber ran home with the Gold between his Teeth: to keep the Secret in. But it swelled in his Stomach, and he felt would break it; so he ran out to a Grove, and was fust going to utter the Secret when a Flight of Crows settled on the Trees above his head. "And who knows," said he, "but they may tell IskanderF'

May 1855

Then the Barber ran into the open Field; but there were Goats and Sheep: and they might tell Iskander. The Secret swelled in him like an Ostrich's Egg in a Sparrow's Bosom: he ran on till he came to a Water-mill working in a Well. The Buffaloes were going round, round, round—the Water went plash, plash, plash—the Wheel groaned nein, nein, nein; and the Boy was fallen asleep under a Tree, with the Goad in his hand. Then the Barber went down into the Well, and whispered (to a large Frog there31) "Iskander-loo-ornein"—"Iskander has two Horns." Immediately the Water-wheel took it up. "Iskander-looornein, ornein," and the Reeds repeated "ein, ein, eiri' all along. So that when Iskander walked abroad in the Morning, he heard his Secret whispering along the Reeds from the Water-mill, and, searching for the Barber, found him hid in the Well, and had him impaled. Story told by a Caireen1 in ridicule of the FeUahs of Egypt. Bayle St. John'sVillage Life in Egypt. II. 199. KI

don't see the propriety of the Frog in this place, as he would have alarmed the Barber as the Crows, etc., had done. Unless, maybe, his Croak is part of the Burden. Only, the Barber had best not known of his Presence. 1 Clever

rogue.

To E. B. Cowell 19 Charlotte St. Rathbone Place May 7/55 My dear Cowell, I stay here just for the present, having found some new work to do, and wishing still to keep my eye on the Lawyers. There is no need for you to write to me at all except with regard to the Persian MS I told you of in my last: not the Hafiz, but that Khamsa,1 etc. Now as to Hafiz, it will be a great pleasure to me if you will send me copies (if rough copies) of what odes you translate as you do them. By which means I both learn them myself, and leisurely think over any alterations I would suggest to you. For I do not wish to perplex you

May 1855 with any but my best thoughts on the Subject, which will only come of themselves at stray times. If you will send me such Odes as you do, I will make copies in a Book of my own, and make to myself such suggestions as offer from time to time, and then offer all to your con­ sideration Svhen we meet. I am more and more convinced of the Necessity of keeping as much as possible to the Oriental Forms, and carefully avoiding any that bring one back to Europe and the 19th Century. It is better to be orientally obscure than Europeanly clear. I always refer back to the Bible: which Selden says is translated so strangely as no Book ever then was,2 keep­ ing so close to almost unintelligible idioms both of Country and Era. Well—it is done: and has succeeded: and, whether well or ill, has prepared all Englishmen at least for the reception of other Oriental works under the same forms: both of words and grammar. I think you agree with me; but I am sure it is the rule never to be lost sight of. Un­ like as the two Peoples may be, we English may yet translate, and read in translation, from the Persian Poetry more literally than from Greek and Latin—partly owing indeed to some affinity in the structure of our Languages. I was led to think of all this again, and am now led to repeat it to you, from having been startled at the second line of one of the Odes you sent me. It reads so modern: and on looking at the original it is so unliteral also as far as I can construe my Copy. It is that one Ode of which the Verses end in -JajL»- .3 My Copy reads thus:

You translate: "Oh (safe) from the Evil Eye God keep that stedfast face of Thine, "For all Tenderness and Truth to me are the Looks it hath ever worn, Hdfiz On reading this second Line it struck me as modern Sentiment rather: and I can't read it in the original. And if I construe that original aright, do you not miss a point in it by being unliteral; for it seems to me to imply, "God ever keep the Evil Eye from that Face which has ever look'd a Good Eye on me."41 only say this seems implied in the original; as it might be in Translation: and surely yours misses this. You (and still more so your Wife) are very kind in listening to my free objections; but you may be well sure I have but one desire in making them: namely to see you do justice to yourself by minding a few hints which I and Anna Seward are up to. I advise what I don't practise: for my Salaman just fails in that [it] loses its Oriental Flavor,

May 1855 and takes an English, if not a Modern Dress. But I had to choose be­ tween being readably English, or unreadably Oriental. There is not that difficulty with at least 150 Hafiz Odes. Yours ever, E.FG. Spedding was much interested in what I told him of those Novum Organum5 Quotations, and will be very glad to see and profit by the Book. 1 Khamsa, or Quintet, a collection of five poems probably by Nizami (11411203), recognized as Persia's greatest writer of romantic fiction. 2 John Selden, Table Talk , "Bible, Scripture, III." 3 "Hafiz." 4 EFG translates the line correctly. He later sent a literal translation of the ode to Tennyson. See letter to A. Tennyson, May 26, 1855, enclosure. 5 Francis Bacon's philosophical treatise in Latin, 1620.

To E. B. Cowell Bredfield May 20/55 True enough. May it run οϊμοι φιλοσοφείs—άλλα τουσδί φιλοσόφονς1 as I fancy I remember the 8ε often used—not as "and" or "but" but "those." Don't write except to say Yes or No to this: or send a probable emendation, and please send it directly. Surely 'twas you first told me the Line. E.FG. P.S. Let me know one day what you and others say to the Pamphlet (not by me). 1 "Alas,

you philosophize—but these philosophers—"

To Alfred Tennyson Bredfield, Woodbridge May 26155 My dear Alfred, I think I owe you and Spedding some Apology for cutting away so suddenly from London. I had told Spedding I had Letters I knew of

May 1855 to answer here, which made me desire to get down before Saturday: and I have truly been for the last four hours writing out long State­ ments that make my Heart thump sensibly—not from Agitation, but bother and confinement. I had hoped to see you before I started, but, after some necessary visits, was only in time to catch the latest available Train. Perhaps before long I may see you in the Isle of Wight or elsewhere when I may have at least one Bother less: though I think I shall never again be other than a lumpy Companion. Yours and Spedding's ever E.FG. [Enclosed with the letter of May 26: ] At morning I was for a while in the Scent of the Rosegarden, That like the distracted Nightingale I might medicine my Brain. There did I turn my eyes to the Cheek of the Red Rose That in the lingering darkness shone like a lamp, So drunk with Pride in the Beauty of her Youth, She wreaked 1000 Scorns on the Nightingale's Heart. The Lily reproaching thrust out her tongue like a Sword, Accuser-like the Anemone opened her Mouth: The tender Narcissus dissolved her Eyes in Sorrow, And the Tulip burned 100 Scars into her heart: Now lifting up their Cups like Worshippers of Wine, And now like the Cupbearer grasping it (as to pour). Oh seize on the Glory of Youth like a Rose; What beside his Mission has the Prophet to deliver, oh Hafiz! This is the Hafiz Ode I told you of—only for the Flower's sake. I write out another which has some tenderness. They are only copied from rubbed pencil marks. Oh safe from the Evil Eye God save that fair face of thine That hath never wrought but well for me, oh Hafiz! Oh come! for now is the hour of Love and FideKty; No longer is War between us—all that is passed, oh Hafiz! Long as this Life of Mine has drunk the Blood of thy Heart, Redeem the Blood-money from it in kisses to thy Heart's desire, oh Hdfiz! Come, Sing me one of thy Ghazals; sweet and fresh and new, For thy gladness-giving Verse wipes away the rust of Sorrow, oh H&fiz!

June 1855 Oh, the Transport of my Heart when this was sweetly said to me, Thine is a Life-giving Gift that ravishes the Soul, oh Hafiz! Yet, entangle not thy Heart again in the tresses and stature of Beauty, If once thou have broken loose from the Snare, oh Hafiz! P.S. Couldn't you give up a few whiffs of your dear old Pipe to turn this into more poetic English—if not Verse? Many of these odes would run easily into rhymed Hexameter and Pentameter for any one who was a Poet.

To E. B. Cowell Bredfield, Woodbridge June 1, [1855] My dear Cowell, I came back here this day week. I am very glad you like the MS. so well, and I hope it may turn out as you anticipate. I have taken to look into Hdfiz again since I have been here and with the help of that Hammer manage to drive my wits through an Ode or two. I have been hammering at one this morning which I want you to read forthwith as it seems to me to promise well for your purpose. which I square to your metre

Hammer's Translation is so maimed as to make a very poor Ode of what seems to me one of the most rich and ornate and careful. I don't send my Version which is probably as wrong as his is deficient; neither need you send yours till all Oxford Coaching is over. But you will be pleased to read the Ode if you do not already know it: which probably you do. 2 I find (or suppose I find) Hdfiz touching again on the in the shape of a Curl of Hair which carries off the Heart— Yours and Lady's, E.FG. June 1. What a June!

June 1855 1 "Come

in and light up our dark place." stick." 3 "The curl of your hair caught my heart as the polo stick catches the ball.'

2 "Polo

To E. B. Cowell Bredfteld, Woodbridge June 19/55 My dear Cowell,

I send you herewith a new Euphranor.1 I have also sent one to Mr. Kitchin2 who you tell me patronized the old one. I keep reading some Hafiz with the help of Hammer. Please to look at the Odes beginning: ^ CvLj.

if you can read my vile Persian pothooks. There are others as good: but I marked these I find. Von Hammer, and also my dear Calcutta Edition follow (as a gen­ eral rule) the Alphabet in the Initial Letter of each Ode—that is, under the mim Section, for instance, the odes begin with Alif and so on.4 This I dare say you knew; but it has saved me some trouble in looking out the Odes in Original and Translation. I am going to pay a visit or two hereabout but this Address will find me. When does "Coaching" end and Vacation Begin? E.FG. 1 Second

edition, sold by J. W. Parker. W. Kitchin (1827-1912), the lifelong friend who persuaded Cowell to matriculate at Oxford. Kitchin took a double first in 1850. He entered the church and in 1883 became Dean of Winchester Cathedral, later Dean of Durham. He was the first Chancellor of the University of Durham. 3 "I have said so many times and I will say it again." and "You are like the morn and I am the dawn's candle." 4 EFG explains the ditvdn or alphabetical arrangement of the odes of Hafiz. He refers, as an example, to those odes in which the rhyming words end in mim or m. All these are grouped together. The sequence of odes within each "section" is determined by the initial letter of the opening word of each ode. Alif cor­ responds to A. 2George

July 1855

To Ε. Β. Cowell (Fragment) [London] [c. July 23,1855]

P.S. I have here for you a thin 4to of a few Translated Odes from Hafiz—in the Shenstone style!—By one Hindley1 of Manchester, 1800. I bought it because at the end there is a laborious enumeration of all the Odes in a MS. at the Chetham Library, Manchester—as compared with the "Meninski MS."2 You must really get this Hafiz done. Carlyle was talking again the other night about your Story from the Ramayana (?) about the Man who won't go to Heaven without his Dog and Rela­ tions, etc. He still says he has seen nothing so good of the East as that which "faithfully brought him face to face with that old Indian." Miiller,3 he says, is "quite a Clever little Fellow—and Wilson too— a grave Faithful Scholar, I beleive—I should not wonder if Cowell have a great deal more ι>οΰς4 in him than either of them. That Story of his from the Sanscrit," etc. Da Capo. 1 hope the Madam is not offended! 1John H. Hindley (1765-1827), Orientalist, librarian of the Chetham Library at Manchester, 1792-1804; published Persian Lyrics from the Dtwan-i-Hdfiz, 1800. 2 Meninski translated Hafiz into Latin, 1680. 3 Friedrich Max Miiller and Η. H. Wilson, Oxford Orientalists. 4 "Intellect" or "Understanding."

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson [60 Lincoln's Inn Fields] July 30/55 Dear Mrs. Tennyson,

I wrote a fortnight or ten days ago to thank you for your Letter: but I mislaid my own in the course of moving about. It would have been very easy, and very agreeable to me to go down to the Isle of Wight in the intervals of my Law Business in London. But I thought this was about the Season when all your Visitors go to you; so I would wait till later in the Year. On Saturday last I got quit (as I hope) of the Chancery part of my Affairs; and am now going down into Suffolk to pay some visits due

August 1855 there. I am also going to look out for some place to live in; though I am not sure whether it will be to settle in that county. Were I twenty or fifteen years younger I should buy a little Farm; but it is too late for that now; too late for me, though not too late for many others of my age. I have been staying in London with Spedding who is now busy (beside his office)1 with the Proofs of his Bacon. So I see, and, when I see, hear, but little of him; but that little is all so much gain, as you know. I have been expecting a visit from the Cowells; but they have not looked in yet. Carlyle was talking of you both a week ago; he says he'll come to me in Suffolk. Please make my Duty to Alfred, and believe me Yours very truly Edward FitzGerald 1 Secretary of the Civil Service Commission, which had just been instituted. Spedding kept the appointment only long enough to organize the department.

To Thomas Carlyle Bredfield Rectory, Woodbridge August 1, [1855] Dear Carlyle, I came down here yesterday: and saw my Farming Friends today, who are quite ready to do all service for us at any time. They live about two miles nearer Woodbridge than this place I write from and I am certain they and their place will suit you very well. I am going to them any day: indeed am always fluctuating between this place and theirs; and you can come down to me there, or here, any day—(for Crabbe and his Daughter will, they bid me say, be very glad if you will come—and I engage you shan't be frightened, and that the place shall suit you as well as the Farmer's). I say you can come to either place any day, and without warning if you like; only in that case I can't go to meet you at Ipswich. Beds, etc., are all ready whether here or at the Farmer's. If you like to give me notice, you can say which place you will come to first: and I will meet you at any time at Ipswich. I think if you come you had best come as soon as possible—before harvest—and while the Days are long and fine. Why not come directly? while all the Coast is so clear? Now as to your mode of going. There are Rail Trains to Ipswich

August 1855 from Shoreditch, at 7 A.M., 11 A.M ., and 3 P.M ., all of which come to Ipswich in time for Coaches which carry you to Woodbridge; where, if you arrive unawares, any one will show you the way to Mr. Smith's, of Farlingay Hall, about half a mile from Woodbridge; or direct you to Parson Crabbe's, at Bredfield, about three miles from Woodbridge. You may take my word (will you?) that you will be very welcome at either or both of these places—I mean, to the owners as well as myself. Well, then there is a Steamer every Wednesday and Sunday; which starts from BlackwalI at 9 A.M.; to go by which you must be at the Blackwall Railroad Station in Fenchurch Street by half past eight. This Steamer gets to Ipswich at half past 5 or 6—probably in time for a Woodbridge Coach, but not certainly. It is a very pleasant sail. The Rail to Ipswich takes three or two and a half hours. Have I more to say? I can't think of it if I have. Only, dear Mrs. Carlyle, please to let me know what C. is "Το Eat—Drink—and Avoid." As I know that his wants are in a small compass, it will be as easy to get what he likes as not, if you will only say. If you like Sunday Steam, it will be quite convenient whether here or at Farlingay. Crabbe only is too glad if one doesn't go to his Church. Yours truly E.FG.

To E. B. Cowell Farlingay Hall, Woodbridge August 5/55 My dear Cornell, Spedding has sent me down your Card. Why did you not leave one on him also? or did you? I just now write from Bredfield: but go to Farlingay tomorrow, where I expect a visit from—Carlyle! He says he'll come if the rain goes. But the Native hue is worn off the Cheek of his Resolution long ago—in such matters at least. When are you coming down to these parts? I don't think to be very long hereabout: and don't quite know whither I shall bend my steps after: but somewhere in search after a house to live in: for, in spite of prophesies, all I want and have wanted is an Anchorage of such sort. I got all the Chancery part of my Business (I hope!) settled before I left London. What remains to do must take its course without my pushing.

August 1855 I read an Ode or two of Hafiz by the day; but it is weary monotony after all! Can't one get some Jellaleddin? Crabbe and Miss Crabbe beg all kind remembrance to you and Wife. Please remember me not to her only but to all your party in London. Yours and theirs E.FG. I don't know yet what to say about "Maud."1 1 Tennyson's monodrama Maud had been published in July. See letter to A. Tennyson, [July 15, 1856],

To Thomas Carlyle Bredfield Sunday [August 5,1855]

Scrap for Scrap ! I go tomorrow to stay at Farlingay, where you will find me, or I will find you, as proposed in my last. Do not let it be a burden on you to come now, then, or at all; but, if you come, I think this week will be good in weather as in other respects. You will be at most entire Liberty—with room, garden, and hours, to yourself—whether at Farlingay or here, where you must come for a day or so. Pipes are the order of the house at both places; the Radiator always lighting up after his five o'clock dinner, and rather despising me for not always doing so. At both places a capital sunshiny airy Bedroom without any noise. I wish Mrs. C. could come, indeed; but I will not propose this; for though my Farm has good room, my Hostess would fret herself to entertain a Lady suitably, and that I would avoid, especially toward Harvest time. Will Mrs. Carlyle believe this? E.FG. P.S. Bring some Books. If you don't find yourself well, or at ease, with us, you have really but to go off without any sort of Ceremony as soon as you like: so don't tie yourself to any time at all. If the weather be fair, I predict you will like a week; and I shall like as much more as you please; leaving you mainly to your own devices all the while.

August 1855

From Thomas Carlyle Chelsea, 7 Augt, 1855 Dear FitzGerald, In spite of these heavy showers, I persist in believing the weather will clear, and means really to be dry: at any rate I am not made of sugar or of salt; so intend to be off tomorrow;—and am, even now, in all the horrors of a half rotted Ship, which has lain two years, dead, among the ooze, and is now trying to get up its anchor again: ropes breaking, sails holed, blocks giving way, you may fancy what a pother there is! My train is to be 11 A.M. from Shoreditch; which gets to Ipswich about two? If you have a gig and pony, of course it will be pleasant to see your face at the end of my shrieking, mad, (and to me quite hor­ rible) rail operations: but if I see nothing, I will courageously go for the Coach, and shall do quite well there, if I can get on the outside especially. So don't mind which way it is; a small weight ought to turn it either way. I hope to get to Farlingay not long after 4 o'clock, — and have a quiet mutton chop in due time, and have a d0 pipe or pipes: nay I could even have a bathe if there was any sea water left in the evening. If you did come to Ipswich, an hour (hardly more) to glance at the old Town might not be amiss. I will bring Books enough with me: I am used to several hours of solitude every day; and cannot be said ever to weary of being left well alone. But we will "drive" to any places you recommend; do bid­ ding of the omens, to a fair degree withal: in short I calculate on getting some real benefit by this plunge into the maritime rusticities under your friendly guidance, and the quiet of it will be of all things welcome to me. My wife firmly intended writing to you to-day, and perhaps has done so; but if not, you are to take it as a thing done, for indeed there was nothing whatever of importance to be said farther. Tomorrow then (Wednesday 8th) 11 A.M.—wish me a happy pas­ sage. Yours ever truly, T. Carlyle

August 1855

Carlyle reported on his visit in letters to his wife: Farlingay IOth August, 1855 . . . As to me things go prosperously altogether. I made an excellent sleep out last night; at least two sleeps added together that amounted to excellent: and today my cold is as good as quite gone. You see I have skill in the weather too; here are the sunny Autumn days begun; and this, the first of them, has been one of the beautifullest that could be desired: as nice a morning as I remember to have seen; and your Letter waiting for me, and good Fitz sitting patient on a big block (huge stump of a tree-root, in which they have sown mignonette etc.) at the head of the garden till I pleased to come down. I got no sea-bathing (only a cold-water bath within doors in the domestic style); but I have sauntered about, reading, in the fields; we drove in the gig (poor F. still lame, and like to be for some days); afterwards I walked lustily (tho' as yet too little of it) thro' pleasant lanes, and quiet country roads all of hard smooth sand, and hardly any vehicle or creature in them: in short a day suitable to my purpose in coming here: I already seem to feel twice as strong for walking; and, in my light clothes, step along at a great rate in spite of the wind­ less fervent heat. Yesterday was absolutely cold; I had on my sleevewaistcoat, and F. had lent me a dressing gown (which I did not use): but today there is heat with a vengeance. I design to have a try again at the sea tomorrow, at all events a good walk before breakfast: it is a pleasure to walk hereabouts in such a morning as today's was. . . . Crabbe called today; we had called at his place yesterday and found his daughter, a hard-favoured but very hopest rational and amiable woman: C. is very frothy of tongue but good stuff too, I see. Farlingay 13th August (Monday), 1855 . . . There have been some adventures here, or rather one adventure, but all goes right after it as much as before. It was an adventure of cows. Cows go in a field—or rather went, but do not now go—opposite this big window, separated merely by the garden and an invisible fence. The night after I wrote last, these animals, about 2 A.M., took to lowing with an energy to have awakened the seven sleepers. No soul could guess why: but there they raged and lowed through the night watches, awoke the whole house here, and especially awoke me, and

August 1855 held me vigilant till six, when I arose for a walk through fields and lanes. No evil came of it, only endless sorrow of poor Fitz and the household, endless apologies, etc. The cows were removed, and I have slept well ever since, and am really growing better and better in my silent rustication here. Fitz took me down yesterday to Aldborough, a very pleasant drive— seventeen miles; off at 8 A.M., home about the same hour of evening . . . it is a beautiful little sea town, one of the best bathing-places I have seen. Nothing can excel the sea—a mile of fine shingly beach, with patches of smooth sand every-here and there; clear water shelving rapidly, deep at all hours; beach solitary beyond wont, whole town rather solitary. My notion is, if you have yet gone nowhere, you should think of Aldborough. If a lodging could be had there, which is prob­ able, I could like very well to take a fortnight or so of it. Never saw a place more promising. . . . Adieu, dearest! Drown Nero,1 and be rea­ sonable. 1

Mrs. Carlyle's dog.

To Stephen Spring Rice Farlingay Hall, Woodbridge Aug. 21/55 My dear Spring Rice, My sending you herewith a Copy of a new Version (rather than new Edition) of that smallest Book1 may seem ill of a piece with my protested diffidence on the subject. It is not so, however; since this new Version was made mainly for the purpose of reducing the didactic pretence of the former, and casting all in a yet lighter mould. I should never have printed the little Tract at all but for the very serious dis­ asters I have seen following from neglect of the Truisms it contains— Truisms which all know; which ought to be far more philosophically handled than I can do—but which I thought could be put in an agree­ able way which might please some young and old, and at least do no harm. So far as the object of the Book2 is concerned, I am by no means ashamed of it. I also think it is very pleasantly executed. But I am ashamed when my friends who have the power to do so much better things praise it. However, let the second Version supersede the first, and believe me yours now as ever E.FG.

August 1855 1

Euphranor. in the English educational system.

2 Reforms

To W. F. Pollock [Farlingay] [August, 1855] My dear Pollock, "Ecce iterum etc." with his customary little Article1—I send it you because it is more a Man's Book, which you will exercise your Discre­ tion upon in confiding to your better half. I have long intended to say something to you about your Dante2 which I now have: but having put it off till I send you what I now send, I must wait awhile: lest one should seem to scratch for a Return. E.FG. 1

Euphranor. A translation of The Divine Comedy, published in December, 1853, postdated 1854. 2

To James Spedding Farlingay Hall, Woodbridge Aug. 23/55 My dear Spedding, I have a line from Thompson telling me I am expected in town to­ morrow. So I am; but unless I can catch Lawyer, Auctioneer, and Fred. Tennyson at once shall wait till next week. For this reason, that I have my Brother John here whom I want to keep steady about this Naseby Sale;1 and he talks of being off to Ireland next week. I have written to F. Tennyson to let me know when he is best visible in London; as it might happen I went up to see him just when he was off to the Isle of Wight. Thompson very kindly asks me to go with him to Ely on Saturday. He does not give [me]2 his Address: but if you see him will you tell him, or show him this Note to explain why I am yet uncertain. A note from London tomorrow may bring me up or not as happens. You will not of course keep your room for me. I will just take it and thank you if it be vacant when I come. Yours E.FG.

August 1855 1

The sale of the estate, Naseby Wooleys in Northamptonshire, was not com­ pleted until the following year. 2 EFG wrote "him."

From Thomas Carlyle Chelsea 23 Augt 1855 Dear Fitzgerald, Here, after a good deal of bothering to improve it, above all to abridge it, is the proposed Inscription for the Pillar at Naseby.1 You need not scruple a moment to make any change that strikes you; I am well aware it is good for nothing except its practical object, and that I have no skill in lapidary literature. The worst thing will be, discovering the date of your Naseby dig­ gings. I ought to have it here; and probably I have, —in some remote dusty trunk, whither it is a terror to go looking for it! Try you what you can, and the Naseby Farmer too (if he is still extant); then I will try. At worst we can say "Ten years ago";2 but the exact date would be better. The figure of the stone ought to be of Egyptian simplicity: a broadish parallelopipedon (or rather octaedron·, the corners well chamfered off, to avoid breakages, will make it 8-faced, I think) in the substance of the stone there is one quality to be looked for, durability; and the letters ought to be cut deep, —and by no means in lapidary lines (attend to that!), but simply like two verses of the Bible, so that he who runs may read. I rather like the Siste Viator, —yet will let you blot it out, —it is as applicable as to any Roman Tomb, and more so than to ours, which are in enclosed places, where any "Traveller," if he either "stop" or go, will presently have the constable upon him. This is all I have to say about the Stone; and I recommend that it be now done straightway, before you quit hold of that troublesome locality. I find I must not promise to myself to go thither with you; alas, nor at all. I cannot get to sleep again since I came out of Suffolk: the still­ ness of Farlingay is unattainable in Chelsea for a second sleep; so I have to be content with the first, which is oftenest about 5 hours, and a very poor allowance for the afflicted son of Adam. I feel privately confident I have got good by my Suffolk visit, and by all the kindness of my beneficent brother mortals to me there: but in the meanwhile it has "stirred up a good deal of bile," I suppose; and we must wait.

August 1855 London is utterly vacant to me, of all but noises from Cremorne3 and such sources: there is not in Britain a better place for work than this Garret,4 if one had strength or heart for fronting work to any purpose. I try a little, but mostly with very small result. If you know Glyde of Ipswich,5 and can understand him to be really worth subscribing for, pray put down your name and mine, as a bit of duty; if not, not, —and burn his Letter. I send the heartiest thanks and remembrances to kind Mrs. Smith, and all the industrious Harvesters; also to Papa and the young lady at Bredfield: —as I well may!—I recommend myself to your prayers; and hope to come again, if I live, when you have set your own house in order. Yours, dear F., with true regards, T. Carlyle 1 In 1846, Carlyle suggested to EFG that they place a stone marking the site where EFG had opened the grave on Naseby battlefield. Nothing came of it, and the subject was revived in the course of Carlyle's visit to SufiFolk. 2 Actually 13. 3 Cremorne Gardens, Chelsea, largest of the London "pleasure gardens," where variety entertainment in the form of dining, dancing, music, balloon ascen­ sions, fireworks, etc., were offered. The gardens were less than a mile from Carlyle's home in Cheyne Row. 4 The soundproof room built as a refuge from Carlyle's bete noire, noise, in 1853. See Hugh Walker's Literature of the Victorian Era, pp. 34-36, for a descrip­ tion and for an amusing account of a visitor who invaded the sanctum. The room is now open freely to visitors. Carlyle's home is maintained as a museum. 5 John Glyde, in 1856, published Suffolk in the Nineteenth Century.

To Thomas Carlyle Farlingay, Woodbridge Sunday, August 26/55 Dear Carlyle, On the very day you were writing that Naseby Inscription was I also contriving one at Bredfield. Miss Crabbe thought it very admir­ able: she would doubtless have thought yours far more admirable, as I do. However, I shall propose to you some alteration, for reasons: and indeed send you my Version of your Inscription, which you can reject with far more propriety than I propose: anyhow re-alter to your mind. I wish you were here now, since the weather is far more delightful than when you were here. Yesterday I drove a little Artist Lawyer1

August 1855 (who did the Sketches I gave you) to Hollesley Bay (on the Sea), and, while he painted on the Shore, I got a Boat and had a great splash of Sailing. You would have liked it. The folks here talk of you con­ stantly; you made a sincere impression upon them. Wheat harvest finished yesterday in great Glory; though Alfred2 has brought on a sort of Lumbago by working so hard and being "riled" by the Gleaners from Woodbridge—a bad set, as natural from a Town. The Radiator,3 I believe, wrote to you that he was not content with the Photograph you sent him. He was quite sincere in thinking it did not do you justice. It seemed to me excellent. I wish, if you have a scrap of that sort (one of your less good ones) to spare, you would send it to the folks here—to Alfred, who was in great admiration of Crabbe's. To return to Naseby Column, as things now are I must wait till it be finally settled whether the Estate be ours or Lord Clifden's;4 then I can either ask him for a leave he cannot, I think, refuse, or do it without asking. We are so far got on with the Business that the "Jasmine Tree" (Lord Carlisle,5 one of Lord Clifden's Trustees) has authorised the Bargain, and Papers have been exchanged between the several Solici­ tors. Be assured I desire to set up the Stone as much as you do: and will follow your Instructions about it as well and as soon as I can. By the bye—As to the very date of my finding the Bones—I discover a letter of yours dated September 25, 1842, which speaks of my report as being received by you the day before; viz. Septr 24/42. But then had I written to you about it on the day I found the Bones? and was my Letter more than a Day going to London? You, in your Inscription, note the day of bone-finding as a Saturday—so perhaps an Almanack of 1842 will clear up the whole Affair. I have not yet been able to find one down here. Woodbridge has scarce arrived at 1842 yet. I have sent to C. Cowell to inquire about "Glyde" and will report to you in time. Again let me say I wish you were here, for you were a very good Guest. Won't you come to Aldbro? I shall be in Town shortly and will look for you. Yours truly E.FG. 1

Thomas Churchyard. Smith's son. 3 Crabbe of Bredfield. 4Henry Agar-ElIis (1825-66), of Gowran Castle, Kilkenny, Ireland. 5George W. F. Howard (1802-64), Viceroy of Ireland. Among his poems was "The Jasmine Tree." 2Job

September 1855

[After an exchange of drafts of the inscription for the stone at Naseby, EFG and Carlyle agreed on the following:] SISTE VIATOR Here and for yards to rearward, lies the Dust of men slain in the Battle of Naseby, 14 June 1645. Hereabouts appears to have been the crisis of the struggle, hereabouts the final charge of Oliver Cromwell and his Ironsides, that day. xThis Ground was opened, not irreverently or with4 reluctance, Saty 23 Septr 1842, to ascertain that fact, and render the contemporary records legible. Peace hence­ forth to these old Dead. Edwd FitzGa (with date). xThis

with a wider margin, or in some other way distinguish­ able from the rest of the inscription.

To E. B. Cowell Farlingay, Woodbridge Septr 4/ 55 My dear Cowell, I am off to London to see Frederic Tennyson tomorrow; and shall put up at 60 Lincoln's Inn Fields if Spedding be at home and no one in his spare bed. As I shall go at once (directly after seeing»Lawyers) to see F.T. at Twickenham or abide him at 60 L.I.F. I shall probably have no op­ portunity of getting to your house so soon as Thursday. If you like to look for me, you will probably find me at home in the forenoon of any day. I like the Hafiz Ode you send me translated; though that should be weeded of some Idioms not only European, but Drawing-room-Euro­ pean. All is lost if one does not keep as near as possible to the Antique and Oriental simple forms of Grammar which the Bible Translation has prepared us for—and as far as possible from ought that recalls modern sentiment. I take such a line as your second—"While all the care of the Rose is to scatter her faithless smiles." The other Ode you only refer me to—and which I can't wholly

September 1855 construe even with Von Hammer (who by the bye reads very differ­ ently from my Edition) I mean the Ode beginning ι

««ι Λ

-A 1

has two lines which, with many others I have lately noticed go to assure me that Hafizs Sdkis and Goblets were not mystical. He is always apologizing for them; always asking Heaven to forgive him, etc. And we know what the Story was about his Burial etc. Smoke perhaps which yet told of Fire. In this Ode you refer to are the Lines

[No signature] "My heart has fled [and I] dervish [am unaware]." Dervish here means "poor me" or "humble me." 2 "I am weeping as I walk along the street of the tavern as I am ashamed of my own harvest." 1

To Thomas Carlyle Farlingay, Woodbridge Septr 14/55 Dear Carlyle, I send you the enclosed from an absurd Volume of Sir John Sin­ clair's.1 And I send it chiefly to apprize you of the Book it is quoted from—which may have some information you want. I have only just come back from London, whither I went to see Fred. Tennyson and his Wife, who are on a short Visit to England. I had intended bringing him one Evening to look for you; but, partly from uncertainty of your being there, and partly from the distance between Chelsea and his Abode, we did not go. I finished my jaunt by a delightful little Cruise with S[pring] Rice in his Government Cutter2 —really delighted to sail the salt seas once more before a Breeze un­ polluted with Smoke and Grease. We touched at Boulogne and Brighton. I hope you got good from your Addiscombe (?) stay. I am on the point of migrating from here at last, probably towards Norfolk. All well here: including the Harvest. I have not seen the Bredfield Family yet. Yours truly Edward FitzGerald

September 1855

P.S. I add a longer paper from Sir John's Book—whose account of Frederick's room and Books may at least interest you. 1 Enclosure missing. Correspondence of Sir John Sinclair, with Reminiscences of Distinguished Characters, 2 vols., 1831. Carlyle wrote on the envelope, "About Brenckendorf, Wollmar, etc. (By Sir J. Sinclair—Nothing])." 2 Stephen Spring Rice was a member of the Board of Customs.

From Thomas Carlyle Addiscombe Farm, Croydon 15 Septr, 1855 Dear Fitzgerald, I have been here ever since the day you last heard of me; leading the strangest life of absolute Latrappism; and often enough re­ membering Farlingay and you. I live perfectly alone, and without speech at all,—there being in fact nobody to speak to, except one austerely punctual housemaid, who does her function, like an eight day clock, generally without bidding. My wife comes out now and then to give the requisite directions; but commonly withdraws again on the morrow, leaving the monster to himself and his own ways. I have Books; a complete Edition of Voltaire* for one Book, in which I read for use, or for idleness oftenest, —getting into endless reflexions over it, mostly of a sad and not very utterable nature. I find V. a "gentleman," living in a world partly furnished with such; and that there are now almost no "gentlemen" (not quite none): this is one great head of my reflexions, to which there is no visible tail or finish. I have also a Horse (borrowed from my fat Yeoman friend, who is at sea bathing in Sussex); and I go riding at great lengths daily, over hill and dale: this I believe is really the main good I am doing, —if in this either there be much good. But it is a strange way of life to me, for the time; perhaps not unprofitable: To let Chaos say out its say, then, and one's Evil Genius give one the very worst language he has, for a while. It is still to last for a week or more. Today, for the first time, I ride back to Chelsea; but mean to return hither on Monday. There is a great circle of yellow light all the way from Shooter's Hill to Primrose Hill, spread round my horizon every night, I see it while smoking my pipe before bed (so bright, last night, it cast a visible shadow of me against the white window-shutters); and this is all I have to do with London and its gases for a fortnight or more. My Wife

September 1855

writes to me, there was an awful jangle of bells last day she went iome from this; a Quaker asked in the railway, of some porter, "Can Iiou tell me what these bells mean?" — "Well, I suppose something is ip. They say Sebastopol is took,1 and the Rushans run away." — A la bonne heure: but won't they come back again, think you? On the whole I say, when you get your little Suffolk cottage, you nust have in it a "chamber in the wall" for me, plus a pony that can jot, and a cow that gives good milk: with these outfits we shall make ι pretty rustication now and then, not wholly Latrappish, but only wlf, on much easier terms than here; and I shall be right willing to iome and try it, I for one party. — Meanwhile, I hope the Naseby natter is steadily going ahead; sale completed; and even the Monu­ ment Concern making way. Tell me a little how that and other mat­ ers are. If you are at home, a line is rapidly conveyed hither, steam all lie way: after the beginning of next week, I am at Chelsea, and (I Iare say) there is a fire in the evenings now to welcome you there. Jhew face in some way or other. And so adieu; for my hour of riding is at hand. Yours ever truly, T. Carlyle 1Some Volumes of which C. had brought down to Suffolk, being then engaged with his Frederick II. [EFG's MS note] 1 Sebastopol

was taken by the Allies on September 8.

To Stephen Spring Rice Bredfield, Woodbridge Septr 17/55 My dear Spring Rice, I have had it on my mind ever since we parted outside that Brighton Shop to write you a line. I suppose you understood (did you not?) Jiat when you went into the Shop, I loitered outside; then onward up :he Street supposing you would soon be fitted with your gloves and De up with me. So I went on dawdling, and looking into Shop windows, ill I saw Flys and 'Busses passing toward the Station; and so mended Tiy pace and was just in time for my Train. I was sorry not to have shaken hands with you after our very pleasant trip.1 I shall not forget the gallant Cutter and her merry Crew nor the delight of once more bowling before a Breeze unpolluted with Smoke, Grease and Smut.

October 1855 I think the name of your kinsman De Vere was not among that deadly Catalogue of the Redan.2 So Spedding and I made out, at least. I am packing up in a dilatory way for a move into Norfolk; but am here or there, yours ever truly Edward FitzGerald 1 The

cruise to Brighton and Boulogne. salient in the center of the Russian defense lines at Sebastopol where British attacks were thrown back with heavy losses on June 18 and again on September 18. 2A

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone Hall, Beccles October 1/55 My dear Cowell, I had your note just as I was setting off from Farlingay hitherward. Did your Brother receive a Letter from me (about a subscription to a Mr. Glyde) a fortnight ago? I could not answer your London Letter because I did not know your Lincolnshire Address. I have brought my Hafiz and Persian Dictionary here, but have not yet unpackt them. I have lately got interested in German—in Schiller's Plays—which I am doing in my lazy way with a Translation. It is some­ thing to get out of the Sweetmeat, Childish, Oriental World back to the Vigorous North! But I shall still go on with a page of Persian daily, having pickt up what I have; and you must decidedly complete your Hafiz work, though we shall never agree in our Estimate of it. I am not at all sure when I shall be moving towards you. But, by the way, I remember you will be moving Oxfordways in a week or two—if not before. Please to remember me very kindly to your family. I told your Brother why it was I had not been over to pay him a Visit in Ipswich. Let me hear from you when you can. Ever yours, E.FG.

October 1855

To Thomas Carlyle Geldestone Hall, Beccles October 7/55 In Re Pipes Dear Carlyle, You see I am not on the Spot to see your Commission executed. But ! have this day (on which I have your Letter) written full particulars ο Alfred (Smith, you know) to do for you what I would have done nyself had I been still at Farlingay. Only this—that, instead of "two )r three Gross" of Churchwardens11 have desired him to get you sent jut one Gross at first—for fear of some mistake about the kind, and or greater security in the Packing. If all this succeed, we can send Aou any quantity more forthwith. I have desired him to use all Dismtch. I will also ask tomorrow at Beccles whether such Churchwardens ire known there. I think the Pipe is common to all this Country, though he Name alter. But there may be some peculiarity in Construction vhich misses my less Critical Eye: a consideration that prevents my >rdering you a Batch from here. I came here a week ago—to live among a Party of Nieces so gentle, sincere, Sensible, and Simple, as would mollify your Savage Heart, I Io believe. I am still on the look out for a Dwelling—these very Nieces Jeing one Inducement to fix hereabout if one could. I went for two lays to Cromer—a Norfolk Sea-place—prettier, quieter even, than Mdboro'—but not so old an Acquaintance of mine. I am reading Schiller's Plays with great Interest—for, with whativer faults, one is always in Company of a Noble Soul. It is a pity you are not here to go to Church. Yours truly E.FG. I will settle with Alfred. But let me know if—and when—and how afely—the Churchwardings come. 1 Clay pipes with stems up to three feet long, popular during the nineteenth entury.

October 1855

To Thomas Carlyle Geldestone Hall, Beccles [c. October 11,1855] Dear Carlyle,

Remember—the Pipe Master I have conferred with, and for whose guidance in future Grosses your letter of Today provides, is the Maker of that second small batch of Churchwardens, which you say you don't like as well as the first. You have smoked that second? You must let me know at your Convenience whether I am to employ my Beccles man, the maker of the second Batch, or wait till I go to Woodbridge to see about the /irsf batch; or, lastly, send to Alfred to give your Direc­ tions to the Woodbridge man. I desired Alfred to have the Pipes packt in "fine hay." But my Beccles man, in his case, swore good Straw was as good; and I suppose Alfred's man was alike obstinate. As to the Woodbridge Pipes, I will settle with Alfred; as to the Beccles Batch, the carriage almost amounts to the Value of the Pipes, since I forgot to write "Goods Train" on the Box; so we will let that Flea stick. Who would think there was Irish Blood in the Pen that makes such provisions as these? But the "Goods Train" omission saves me. If the Cromwell Autograph be genuine it must be almost as valuable as such things can be, I suppose. If you think (not minded to do it yourself) that some reverent person should buy this relic, would you mind bidding the owner come to you, ascertaining (which you can do by Eye) the Genuineness of the Writing: and offering for me such price as you think a reasonable Man should offer for such a thing— such as you would offer for yourself. Perhaps this will be scarce more trouble to you than your Pipes were to me since you will at least like to see the Writing, if genuine; and, as you look at it for another person, and are ready to offer a reasonable sum, the bore of sending for goods one doesn't after all buy, is done away with. Of course you won't do this if you don't like. It would be no use for me to see the writing, as I could not judge of its Genuineness. Yours truly E.FG.

October 1855

To Stephen Spring Rice Geldestone Hall, Beccles October 15/55 My dear Spring Rice,

I find by Kerrich's Peerage that the present Lady Jersey (Queen Sarah)1 was married in 1804; that George IV married in 1795; there­ fore I cannot think (as you maintained) that it is the present Lady J. who went over to escort home Caroline of Brunswick and did so much mischief. The present Lady J. was, you know, Daughter of the Banker Childe. Do ask some of your Lordly Acquaintances about this, however. I had a Letter from Mrs. Frere three days ago. She tells me Philip is so well, that he (and you) will not have to go abroad this winter. "Das ist gut." When we embarked on the Margate Steamer together, a Boy came round with penny Black strings (do you remember?) to keep our hats from blowing away. I have worn mine ever since to keep my Eye­ glass from straying.

Fragment of a Song that came through the Skylight of the Cabin when we had taken in the News of Sebastopol at Brighton. I am not sure if "bold" was the word; and the "humph" was a sort of grunt between Pig and Donkey—very fit for a Bachelor, I dare say. Were you at Thackeray's Dinner?21 saw Pollock's name. Here I am reading a little Hafiz, and a good deal of Schiller (with Bohn's Translations!) and happy enough with my Nieces. I expect to be in London part of the Winter. With best Remembrances to Wife. Yours ever Edward FitzGerald 1 Sarah Sophia Fane, favorite inamorata of the Prince of Wales—later George IV—at the time of his marriage to Princess Caroline of Brunswick in 1795. She was a member of their entourage when the royal bride and groom took up resi­ dence at Windsor. Robert Child, the banker, was her grandfather, not her father as EFG states. In 1804 she married George Villiers, fifth Earl of Jersey, and died at the age of 82 in 1867. 2At the London Tavern on October 11 on the eve of his departure for his second lecture tour in America.

November 1855 To Ε. Β. Cowell Geldestone Hall, Beccles Nov" 5/55 My dear Cowell, I don't think I told you in my last what I meant to have told you weeks ago—my having seen in more than one Oriental Travel (I can­ not now recall which) observations as to the Green hue of the skies in Persia—owing to what atmospheric conditions I also forget. I wanted to tell you of this because it may go some way to clear up that con­ fusion of Blue and Green we have noticed in these Poets; and you might (unless already aware) be glad of some clue while you are about Hafiz. I am only just back from a little walking expedition about the Coast here—along which I could not carry Hafiz and Williams—so have not looked at either till this morning; when what I now write to you came back into my head. This morning I read a very pretty little Ode which you have doubtless marked: beginning 41j Zj-*ejV β1 s^1 1 (which latter word—written in my Edition—Ham­ mer translates "verstreut"—I suppose "scattering" he means—p. 100, Vol. I). Though I may construe this Ode, I don't understand all the Allusions—like many others there are allusions, it seems to me, neither mystical nor sensual, but relating to changes in Life, Place, Travel, Condition, etc., which are sunk from Memory. Hammer reads one line quite different from my Copy; his Stanza begins (at top of p. 101) "Die Weltlauf ist ein Blutiger Stahl" etc., but I read: 2

Though I could not carry Hafiz with me I could carry part of Schiller with his Translator; and have now read the Maid of Orleans—W. Tell —Don Carlos—Mary Stuart—and the Bride of Messina—well enough I suppose to get at some notion of their merits. Not one seems to me a good Play, though each has very fine things; but there is no Charac­ ter, and all the People talk too much as well as too alike. Still I could go on reading dozens of such. Enough of such a scrawl: for I write numb-fingered. Yours and Lady's, E.FG. I think to be in London in two or three weeks.

December 1855 1 "Sifting

and spreading the blooms and the scent." "The sky (or universe) is a blood-scattering sieve, The drops which [filter] through are the head of Khosru, the crown of Parwiz." Editions vary. Rosenzweig-Schannau, in Hdfiz, Der Dtwan, I, 142, reads 0JT/ , "bits" or "fragments," instead of ojti , "drops." The stars in the heavens suggest the holes in the sieve, and "blood-scattering" is suggested by the reds in the sky at dawn and sunset. 2

To E. B. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland St. Portland Place [c. December 22,1855] Dear Cowell, Thank you and Wife for the Trouble you have taken about these Elliotts.1 I sent off your Note to W.B. yesterday as soon as received; telling him to let me know directly his Decision etc. and not keep us waiting as he (or She) did about the poor Governess. W.B. has in­ stantaneous Decision, and knows of more People and Probabilities by a Guess than I do by Years of personal Acquaintance. He comes here for a Day—supplies me with Sense and Courage—then goes away and I feel like a "Billy boy"2 ashore. I have left my Hafiz for a fortnight—during which I have taken up Salaman again! He came to hand unpacking a Box, and I took a fit 3 which you said I had made too to recast some of those heavy—and no doubt you were right. It is not easy to lighten them; for, after all, they are told in the original in the same measure, and (as I often see in Oriental Jokes—if they really be such) as gravely as the other parts. All of them, as you know, are not playful—as those little ones about Perveez and Shireen etc.4 I suppose you think "Sulayman and Balkis" should be lighter: and the Story of the Man asking the Sheikh to pray for a Son for him—which latter is yet gravely and poetically told.5 I have a mind to do this little Job as well as I can— and perhaps print it, more for private than public hands, however; for I have no doubt Parker was right in supposing it would not interest many Readers. Should I care much for it if I had not had the pleasure of poking it out with you in the Original? I hope to get to Oxford for

January 1856 a while very soon; till New Year's Day I shall be at my Brother Peter's, 3 Park Villas, West Richmond, Surrey. Yours, E.FG. 1 Orphaned 2 Clumsy

children of Mrs. W. K. Browne's brother. east-coast sailing barges in which coal and other bulk cargoes were

transported. 3 "Apologues." 4 Parwiz and Shirin. See letter to Cowell, April 16, 1855, n.3. 5 For the apologues referred to, see Letters and Literary Remains, VII, 215-18. "Sulayman and Balkis," the Persian forms of Solomon and Sheba.

To Alfred Tennyson 31 Portland St., Portland Place New Year's Day, 1856! Which let me wish a Happy one to You and Yours, Alfred! The Day has put me to a wish to hear about you from head quarters; especially since no one here can tell me at all about you. I have not asked Moxon.1 If you will come to London I can give you a very Clean and pleasant Bedroom, and all Board except Dinner. I can't say how long I am to be here; and, more wonderful still, don't know where I am going to when I leave. But "this is a state of Things which will not last long." Spedding was not in London ten days ago; how he can keep away when Mrs. Lind2 is warbling at Exeter Hall I don't know. Won't you come and see a Pantomime? I go on puddling away faintly at Persian, and have also taken up German—taking great pleasure in Schiller. You don't like him, I think; and I must say his Plays, as Plays, are not so good; but there are always noble fine things in them. It is a comfort to get to masculine Thought after the effeminate Persian. And I like the Lan­ guage (German) very much indeed—when I believe all the World has got tired of it. I write all this only because I have nothing else to write. Has your Island been as Beautiful this Winter as you told me it was two Winters ago? If you don't answer me ask the Wife to do so as it is a long time since we have exchanged a letter; and I suppose these Inter­ vals will go on encreasing till there's no option in the matter. Till then however yours E.FG.

January 1856 1 Tennyson's

publisher. Jenny Lind had sung in the Messiah for the first time in London the previous evening, New Year's Eve. It was the practice to present sacred music during the Christmas season; she had sung in Elijah and The Creation the previous week. 2

To Stephen Spring Rice 31 Gt. Portland St. Portland Place [January 2, 1856] My dear Spring Rice, I came up to Town a Fortnight ago, but have been most of the Time with my Brother at Richmond. Xmas and New Year's Day are over however (by the bye, let me wish you and yours all the happiness of 1856) and here I am for a while. Are you at Putney? If you are, give me a Pennyworth, and I will go and see you, if you like it, and are disengaged and disincumber'd. Anyhow, let me know how you are. I called at Spedding's Rooms when I came to Town, but he was not yet returned. I suppose he will not be long away however. For in his heart he loves Babylon. And can he be easy without going to hear Jenny Lind—whom I won't go and hear. I am sure she is excellent in Oratorio (I always said she couldn't sing Italian) but I am now too old to endure an Oratorio. That one should come to love Willikins and his Dinah1 best! Yours ever E.FG. 1 "Vilikins

and His Dinah," popular music-hall ditty.

To E. B. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland Street Portland Place Jan. 3! 56/ My dear Cowell, First of all, a Happy New Year to Yourself, The Lady, and all Yours! Next—Captain Browne has written himself to Mrs. Umpleby to ex­ plain and settle all that can be done at present; a Brother of the dead Mrs. Elliott having started up to claim some Voice in the destination of

January 1856 the Children. He will probably be disposed of easily—having no legal Claim: and both Captain and Mrs. B. wholly desire the Children to go to Mrs. U. Lastly. What do you think! I have sent off the Text of Salaman to Childs to print!—a few Copies only—for, if for no other reason than the subject, it cannot be expected to sell. I have cut away even more than when you saw it: lightened the Stories, as you desired; cut out all the descriptions of Beauty etc. which are tedious, and are often implied; and I think advantageously condensed and retrenched the Lovemaking. Part of the blame of my ever sending it to Press at all must lie (as Calderon did) on your Shoulders; I myself have also a strong desire to perpetuate this little monument of my first work with you in Persian—the talk of many pleasant hours—and also I am sure what I have done is better than Eastwick etc. would do it. And I still like Salaman, as a whole, better than anything I have yet seen in Orieptal Poetry. And I have sent to Press now because it is your Holidays, and I want you to look at the Proofsheets. You need not go over them with the Persian text, for it would be troublesome to you to look out scattered parts that are put together in my Version; and as you in­ doctrinated me with the correct meaning pretty well, I think, I shall be able to ask you when there is any meaning of which I am not so sure. But I shall want you to correct anything you at once see wrong in Text or Notes (of which latter I add a few). Nay, I want you to add any Notes or Elucidations that may come into your head. And I write out on a separate Paper a few Queries for you now to answer if you will. There must be a Kttle notice of Jami's Life and Works—as short as may be—by way of Preface. Can you find time for this? I have Ouseley's Lives of the Persian Poets;1 and I can get your Notice in the Oxford Essays.2 But it is likely you know more about the matter than Ouseley does. Only don't bore yourself. Finally, let us say nothing about the matter to anybody. I shall print anonymously; but, as these things never remain so in however few hands they fall, I will, if you choose, especially and sufficiently Exculpate you from any responsibility in the Translation or Publica­ tion. (I mean, in a preliminary notice.) Yours and Lady's E.FG. 1

Sir Gore Ouseley's Biographical Notices of Persian Poets, 1846. Published posthumously. 2 Cowell's essay, "Persian Literature," published the previous year.

January 1856

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson 31 Gt. Portland St., P. Place [c. January 4,1856] Dear Mrs. Tennyson, Thank you for your quick reply and kind Invitation. The latter I shall probably (and most willingly) be able to avail myself of before long, not just yet; as I have my Brother at Richmond to visit, and probably to go to Oxford—if not to Suffolk. I heard there was a great Gathering of Wits at The Grange.1 Spedding, whom I caught a Glimpse of yesterday, was just going off. I had not known of his being in Town, the Wretch! London is dirty enough. I potter about, and have just had a little County Lawyer2 with me, a Painter, who has been taking me into all the Dirtiest nooks to see the Dirtiest Cheap Pictures. Poor Fellow, he is now groaning with a sort of Colic in my Room while I write this about him. I suppose London Air and change of Life and Diet has overset him. And here I sit and can't help him. Yours very truly Edward FitzGerald 1 Lord 2

Ashburton's estate in Hampshire. Thomas Churchyard.

To E. B. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland St. Portland Place Jan. 10/56 My dear Cowell, Do make a Sign of some sort to me. I sent you a string of Questions about Salaman last week, all of which I did not want you to answer at once, but wishing at least to hear if you had leisure and Inclination to meddle with them. There is no reason in the world you should unless you really have Time and Liking. If you have, I will send you the Proofs of the Little Book which Mr. Childs is even now putting in hand. Pray let me know as soon as you can what and how much of all this will be agreeable to you. You don't tell me how Hafiz gets on. There is one thing which I

January 1856 think I find in Salaman which may be worth your consideration (not needing much) in Hafiz: namely, in Translation to retain the original Persian Names as much as possible—"Shah" for "king" for instance— "Yiisuf and Suleyman" for "Joseph and Solomon," etc. The Persian is not only more musical, but removes such words and names further from Europe and European Prejudices and Associations. So also I think best to talk of "A Moon" rather than "a Month," and perhaps "Sennight" is better than "week." This is a little matter; but it is well to rub off as little Oriental Colour as possible. As to a Notice of Jami's Life, you need not trouble yourself to draw it up unless you like; since I can make an extract of Ouseley's, and send you for any addition or Correction you like. Very little needs be said. I have not yet been able to find Jami out in the Biographie Universelle. I do not run to Oxford at present, because (beside other matters) I have to be near Richmond where my Brother is for the Present. Cap­ tain Browne wrote to Mrs. U[mpleby] explaining the whole Case to her. Yesterday he told me (just going off to his Regiment in Ireland) that one of the Little Girls lies dangerously ill of Scarlet Fever at Brighton. Neither will live long, I should think. Now let me hear from you something—whatever you like. Yours and Lady's, E.FG. You, I believe, in your Oxford Essay, translate Jami's "Haft Aurang" as the "Seven Thrones," it also meaning, I see, the seven Stars of the Great Bear—"The Seven Stars." Why should not this latter be the Translation? More intelligible, Poetical, and Eastern (as far as I see) than "Thrones." Is the ^Ij to be "Sage" or "Seer"?

To E. B. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland St., P. Place [January 12,1856] My dear CoweU, Yoin- Talk of going to India1 makes my Heart hang really heavy at my side. I can't think it can be good—I mean I am so sure you would get on well in England. Think if one of you is ill in India—without

January 1856 Family and Friends! Is not Professor Wilson2 sure to look after you here? Is not a Professorship sure for you—and you teach at Oxford (which you like) meanwhile? All this I shall think of as I can (for I conclude from your note I am not to speak to any one else about it at present)—and perhaps shall talk it over with you ere long. You never say a word about your Hafiz. Has that fallen for the present, Austin3 not daring to embark in it in these days of War when nothing that is not Warlike sells except Macaulay?4 Don't suppose I bandy Compliments; but, with moderate care, any such Translation of such a writer as Hafiz by you into pure, sweet, and partially measured Prose must be better than what I am doing for Jami; whose ingenuous prattle I am stilting into too Miltonic Verse. This I am very sure of. But it is done. I have asked Mr. Childs to send you a Proof when he sends me one—that you may . . . [bottom of page torn off] before I send you my own corrected Proof. I will send you a neat little abstract of Ouseley's Life in a Day or Two. I see where he may be trussed up sufficiently for my Purpose. Indeed I now enclose a Page of Quotations with some Queries about Dates under—which return me, please. Yours and Lady's, E.FG. [FitzGerald had added a note about Jamshid on the reverse of the missing portion of the sheet.] 1 On December 31 Cowell had learned that candidates were being sought for the position of Professor of Modern History and Political Economy at the Presi­ dency College, Calcutta, and had decided to apply for the appointment. 2 Horace Hayman Wilson, Professor of Sanskrit at Oxford. 3 Stephen Austin, of Hertford, printer of Oriental books. 4 A printing of 25,000 copies of volumes 3 and 4 of Macaulay's History of Eng­ land had been sold on the day of publication in December. Sales of volumes 1 and 2 had totaled 40,000 copies.

To E. B. Cowell [London ] [January, 1856] My dear Cowell, I send you a sketch of Jami's Life, which cut, correct, and annotate as you will. Where there was so little to tell I have brought in all the

January 1856 fine Names and extra bits I could to give it a little Sparkle. There is very little after all; I have spread it over Paper to give you room to note upon it. Only take care not to lose either these, or Yesterday's, Papers—for my Terror at going over the Ground! You must put in the corrected Notice about the Sultan Hussein, both in the Memoir and in the Note to the Poem. The latter will have room for at least four (I think five) lines of note Type: which you must fill, and not overflow: "Strong without rage, etc." I feel guilty at taking up your Time and Thoughts: and also at Dressing myself so in your Plumes. But I mean to say a word about this, φωνάντα συνίτοίσιν in my Preliminary Notice; and would gladly dedicate the little Book to you by Name, with due acknowledgment, did I think the world would take it for a Compliment to you. But though I like the Version, and you like it, we know very well the World—even the very little World, I mean, who will see it—may not; and might laugh at us both for any such Compliment. They cannot laugh at your Scholarship; but they might laugh at the use I put it to: and at my dedicating a Cobweb (as Carlyle called Maud2 the other night) to you. Now for some Notes and Queries—which only answer when I am wrong. I have all your letters, one this Morning. I. I have altered "Crazy for the Curse of Children" to "for the Want of Children",3 which is weaker—but I doubled misunderstanding, as if the Father were crazed at the curse of having instead of "crazy to get the Curse"—? II. How would you translate: How long, Jami, in this old Home Stringing Pearl-Verse upon a Harp of Words?* which is, I believe, literal, but indistinct, "Stringing thy Pearls upon a Harp of Song?" for ^L^.u^seems to mean all Report. III. I had written, and so corrected it, "who felt the Stab (not State) of "He is none of thine!" etc., thinking fjJ was a Wound. I see it is "A Scar". Won't the strong word Stab (very oriental) do, think you?6 1

1 "Oh Thou Jewel of Creation!"7 V. The "Honyns" was, of course, Horizon. I will think of David and his Belief—which is, as you say, a Difficulty. Can't you make me a Line? One might get in the meaning you think it will bear in some such way as "Vindicate your Belief" etc., leaving open whether by Word or Deed.9 I put "Angel" because the Message so often comes in Jami through Gabriel etc.

January 1856 Now, as I always say, only answer what needs Answer—and plump at once to it without any beginning or ending to your Letter. Yours (however) E.FG. Query VI. Hassan—Hasan—Husein—Houssein etc.! Which fix on for the Slender word 6—«*->• !l0 1 "Speaking

to those of understanding." monodrama. 8 EFG did not alter this line in his first edition of Saldmin and Absal (Section v, first line of the apologue). In subsequent editions the line reads, "Sick at heart for want of Children." 4 This translation appears in the first two versions of Salamdn (Section π of "Prologue"); in the final revision (1879), the passage runs, 2 Tennyson's

And yet, how long, O Jami, stringing Verse, Pearl after pearl, on that old Harp of thine? "Stringing." "Stab" appears in the first two editions ("Story," v). In the final version EFG deleted the passage in which it appears. 7 EFG chose the second form for the first two editions ("Prologue," in). The passage was omitted from the final version. 8 CoweIl had had difficulty deciphering EFG's script. 9 First edition, "Story," first apologue. The passage was radically revised, and improved, in subsequent editions. 10 "Hasan." EFG settled on this spelling. 5

6

To E. B. Cowell [London] [January, 1856] My dear Cowell, Let me hear about "David" directly: and do annotate about Husein (fixing his spelling—why not the simplest "Hasan" as indeed Williams spells it). There is plenty of room, you see, for a Note even longer than the present (if necessary) since the Text could be run on a little to the next page. But I suppose there is Verge enough as it is. I shall like to have one little Jewel of your own in my little Book. Also, tell me about that "Stringing Pearl-Verses on the Harp of Words". For, if I give you trouble, at least I do not give it in vain; since I do what you tell me. I am almost sorry I did not translate some of the Introductory Dedi-

January 1856

cations and Encomiums to Allah, and Reigning Shah etc., which, though dull, are perhaps necessary parts of such an Eastern Poem. These I did not go over with you; and cannot find my own Translation of them anywhere. What do you think on this point? Tell me this. I am just back from Richmond (my Brother's). Wilkinson and Jane1 are here in London too: and some Law Business still going on, on which I want to—quarrel with them always! This is why I have not as yet run to Oxford. When will your Coaching begin? E.FG. I enclose a note I just have from Allen. You are the "Byrontine"\ There is no hurry about the Preface and Husein just yet. 1 EFG's

sister and her husband.

To E. B. Cowell (Fragment) [London ] [January, 1856] I will translate part of Section Eleven (of the Persian) with its ac­ companying Story of Majnun; but am puzzled (on a passing reading today) as to the Shah referred to in line 182: which, with its two preceding lines, does it revert from the Deity (who I suppose is addrest at the Beginning of the Section) to the Reigning Sultan? And is his Praise, or the Deity's, which Jami is to commemorate in his old Age, as Majnun does Laili's?1 Give me a line as to this, please. I should write more, and perhaps have found out more for myself, but have had an old Servant here half the Day. And I want to get in a piece of this into the First Proof which has to wait. E.FG. 1 In an apologue, Prologue, II. Majniin and Laila, famous characters in Persian romance.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [January, 1856] Don't write any more, nor annotate any more now that your Coach­ ing is begun; unless I specially ask, or unless you see some great

January 1856 Blunder in the Proofs. I had askt you if your Coach had started again— not knowing. Pray don't add to your Bother and unwholesome con­ finement by my little—leetel—Dilettanteisms. As it is, your note of Today has been of singular use to me to correct a Translation I had made of the Section yesterday with some Misun­ derstanding (of course) in it. I shall bundle up the Celestial and Earthly Shah so neatly that neither can be displeased, and no Reader know which is which. Trust an Irishman where any Confusion is wanted. I am equally sure I shall now make some Blunder about those Hasans, who are a Family born to plague me. I am glad you teach Monkhouse,1 who I always thought a young Fellow of sprightly honest Heart and Head. Do remember me to him, and tell him I have here a spare bed, with "Tea, Coffee, Tobacco and Snuff" ad libitum if he should come to Town. I am afraid he will hardly understand why I would not go to see him at Oxford. But you under­ stand, it was out of no antipathy—but rather the reverse. I enclose some Verses which your "Missus" will like as being Verses, and in a good Cause. Yours, my dear Cowell, (once more, don't bother yourself) E.FG. 1 John Monkhouse, nephew of W. K. Browne's vicar, William Monkhouse, of Goldington1 Bedfordshire. Monkhouse was also a nephew of Tohn Allen (Trinity College MS).

To E. B. Cowell [London] [January 28,1856] I was obliged to send off the new part on Saturday—so I suppose can't avail myself of your note here: but, with your permission (only to mention help) shall tell shortly all about Jami's relation with the Hasans in my foregoing Notice.1 By the bye, I have not received from [you] my Preface and Life etc. which I don't want (mind)—so far from it indeed that I hope you will in some lucid Interval jot down correctly for me (who always blunder, you know) some outline of those same Hasan relations (how modestly does Request steal on!). But don't—pray don't—write on your heavy Coach days: and when you have any remarks to make on a

January 1856 Proof, why not send the Proof itself with a mark at any place. Eight such pages, folded up, and tied round with a String so as to leave the ends quite open only need one Id stamp. Oddly enough, I had first written "Earthly Shah" but wanted to leave all confounded. Perhaps, simply "Another Shah" would have been best of all. I used "King", however, so as not to interfere with the Hero of the Story. On Saturday Donne was about to enclose you Sir J. Stephen's2 own Letter; much more complimentary than I had told you of. E.FG. I believe my Pocket was pickt of a Letter Case on Saturday, containing some of your Notes and Comments. 1

See Letters and Literary Remains, VII, 200-02. James Stephen (1789-1859)—formerly colonial undersecretary, Professor of Modern History at Cambridge, 1849-59, and at the East India Company College, Haileybury, 1855-57—nominated Cowell for the professorship at the Presidency College, Calcutta. 2Sir

To Stephen Spring Rice 31 Gt. Portland St., P. Place [January 31,1856] My dear Spring Rice, Can I—and shall I—come to you on Saturday Evening—or Sunday any time? I see by your Note that the Wife leaves you on Saturday, and will suppose I want to come when she goes—which is certainly not the case. The fact is—last Saturday I went to Hendon till Monday; when a Man from the Country came to stay with me·, he is just gone; and here is Allen come up for Convocation and wishing to see me! He appointed this very Day for a walk with me; and here I sit expecting him. Thus it is. Yours, E.FG.

February 1856 To Ε. Β. Cowell 31 Gt. P. St. P. Place Friday [February 8,1856] My dear Cowell, I always knew there might be some obscurity in that passage about the Censor, and from the first pointed it illegitimately in order to conduct the Reader better to the meaning: having it printed thus: "and through the Eyes Of Man, the subtle Censor scrutinize"1 to show that "Thou" and not "Man" was the Censor. This illegitimate Comma was not put into the proof, but was restored by me in sending it back to Childs. The reason of my Version—and why it was not quite literal, is—that it is the Culminating point of the Sentence, and I wanted to secure a palpable image of the Deity scrutinizing the World he made and moves in through the Eyes of his Master-work, Man; and to edge and clench it with the sharp corner-stone of rhyme in that very word "scrutinize". I saw there was a Chance of Miscon­ ception and had thought of "through the Eyes OiMan U iMan

ysteriousl jim the World y thou

j walkst in1

scrutinize"1 scrutinize.

but took the more literal Version as the more literal, and (once under­ stood) the best. I wish you would suggest another; since it can be altered in Revise. This is precisely one of the Passages [which] would have best been done in Prose; but as it seemed to me the whole Poem could not be so done, the better Parts must be partly modified so as to take their due place in the altered Current of the Rest. You see, anyhow, that I have taken some pains with it; in fact it is just these bits which give all the Trouble. Thank you, Thank you, for your Discovery of Hasan; which shall occupy the room of the erring Note. I did not expunge the Note because I wished to keep its room ready for anything better. Yours, E.FG. I write out and send you a hasty Sketch of a Preliminary Notice— which read—remark on if necessary—and return anyhow. P.S. I send you further two Revises of the First Section just re­ ceived. Which Form of Page is best? You see that the single-lined one

February 1856

can hold more lines; but, in the present case, each four pages holds the same quantity, by allowing less space at the end of the double-lined one. What I have pressed on Childs is to print as close as may be; for it looks to me absurd when perhaps four lines of one of the childish stories occupies a Page. But he (for my sake really) wants to swell the Book into more tangible importance. 1 In

Saldmdn, first and second versions, "Prologue," I.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [February, 1856] My dear CoweU, On looking over your Notes about the Hasans etc., I find they all agree that the Hasans had nothing to do with Houssein Mirza or with Herat1 (as Princes of it). I had set it down as I thought settled that it was Houssein Mirza who about 1473 conquered, and killed Abou Said, and took possession of Herat. But I see both the Biographie Universelle and D'Herbelot2 speak of Abou Said as having been con­ quered and killed by "Usun Hagan" or "Usuncassan". Or is all this my Irish Blundering? Don't go to look for the solution—only tell me if you see my Blunder on the Surface. I don't know what to say about Sir J. Stephen's Letter3—whether to laugh or cry. Donne, poor Fellow, has lost £,100—his pocket picked in an Omni­ bus. E.FG. I will explain to W. Browne, so far as you can explain, that absurd Mystery. It must, I think, be some blunder of Monkhouse, who is Clergyman of Goldington, and Uncle of your Man; and does things in a fierce blundering way. But why sign himself Browne! There needs no sort of Apology to my Captain—he was only afraid lest he should seem to have forced himself on you. 1 See

EFG's "Notice of Jami's Life," introduction to Saldnuin and Absdl. d'Herbelot (1625-95), French Orientalist; he was the author of Bibliothdque Orientale, a dictionary of Oriental history and antiquities (Paris, 1697). 8 The letter undoubtedly informed Cowell that he had been appointed to the faculty of the Presidency College, Calcutta. 2 Barthelemi

February 1856 To Ε. Β. Cowell [London] [February, 1856] My dear Cotvell, That Shah mistake1 must be cancelled with its page. I had always seen there was a "hiatus" somehow; but the passage was so little inviting that I never looked back to it since first burrowing it out— beside not thinking it much mattered who. For it would be always implied that the King acted only by the Sage's direction. But it is safer to let it go. The Book2 shall be, as you think well, left at Parker's for sale, and even advertised for sale. Half-a-dozen will buy, and the Critics in the Papers will sneer. For I observe they always take up any Confession of unliteralness, etc., against oneself: and yet one can't honestly put forth a Translation without saying how far one has left the Original. In respect of you too; I should have said much more than you would like in Public, though only the Truth—and what Madam would think very far short of due. I told you I had couched the Preface in a Letter to you—but I am even now (if the Book is to be publisht) puzzled what to do with it. Jdmi then, coming back to Herat in 1473, came back the very year in which his own Sultan Abou Said was dispossessed and slain by Hasan. The pilgrimage to Mecca lasts a Year at least, Chardin says; and if Jami, returning (as you say) through Mesopotamia, found it in Arms, it must have been against Abou S. not against Mahmud. But it does not matter. I see in the Ipswich Paper you are printed as having been appointed! I have delayed going to Oxford because you were now Coaching: thinking best to wait till about Easter. But if you are going to India! I can't look at you and her again. I must have your portraits. E.FG. I think it is spelt "Yam" not "Ham" in Sale's Koran.3 1 Explained by CoweIl: "The allusion in the beginning of the letter is to the passage in VII:

The sage his Satire ended; and the Shah With Magic-mighty Wisdom his pure Will Leaguing, its Self-fulfilment wrought from Heaven. These lines are altered in the later version, but it is still the Shdh's work. I think Jami meant to assign it to the Sage; but FitzGerald preferred to keep his first view" (Letter to Aldis Wright, March 16, 1900, Trinity College MS).

February 1856 2

Saldman and Absdl. J. W. Parker was named on the title page as publisher. note by Cowell on this point reads, "This Postscript refers to the acct. of Noah's Ark in the Koran Ch. XI where Sale has a long note about Noah's 'un­ believing son named Canaan or Yam.' This is printed so in the note in the first ed. of Salaman p. 16. In your ed. (where the note is printed in the appendix) it is put 'one of Noah's sons (Canaan or Ham, some think)'. I had made an objection in my previous letter to Yam, as I did not know the name, and so proposed Ham. Though I have never met with Yam, yet very probably it is the true Mohammedan form of the name" (Trinity College MS). George Sale (1697P-1736), whose translation of the Koran was first published in 1734. 3A

To E. B. Cowell [London] [February, 1856] My dear Cowett, I got here safe yesterday:1 and, as I hope you have seen before this, went to Quaritch—who had none of the Books you told me of except the pretty little MS. in which I supposed I saw the first line you told me of, and so sent it off to you. If you presume to send me 9s. I shall think you a Snob and Spooney—and so you may tell Madam. I told you Jami was "imam-descended"2—of course I may be wrong. Rosenzweig says he was descended of the noblest on the Mother's side—tracing up "bis auf den beriihmten, 189 ( 820) verstorbenen Hanefitischen Imam Mehmed Scheibani, Sohn Hassans, Sohn" etc. etc. up to Hormus "der sogar fiir einen Abkommling des alten Persischen Konigs Feridun gilt."3 If I be right in sticking in Jami as "Imam-descended" don't trouble yourself to write. Indeed, I surely cannot be wrong here—wrong as I am sure to go in all History and Date. I shall make a nice Notice of the Life you will see. E.FG. Schaaban What months are? Rebiul-ewwel Moharrem4 1 From

visiting the Cowells at Oxford. lmdm, the title applied to the spiritual and temporal head of a Moslem com­ munity. 3 Vincenz Edlem von Rosenzweig, Biographische Notizen iiber Mewlana Abdur­ rahman Dschami nebst Vbersetzungsproben aus seinen Diwanen, Vienna, 1840, p. ix. 4 Schaaban, eighth month; Rebiul-ewwel, third; and Moharrem, first. 2

February 1856 To Ε. Β. Cowell 31 Great Portland Street Portland Place [February, 1856] My dear Cowell, I wrote yesterday to settle about the Spelling of the Names; which I have finally decided to be not with double Letters as "Shereen" etc., but with Vowels accented to be spoken as in Italian—"Shirin—Yusuf" etc. which looks so much better, I think; and can be explained once for all in a Note at the Beginning. Don't, I repeat, take the Trouble to answer me, or merely report the receipt of Proofs, unless you have to correct. But pray do write when you see a mistake: never taking for granted that I shall see them for myself. Especially look to the Notes: which are mainly remem­ brances, and may be disfigured ones, of you. In a Note to the second Proof I have today, I add in a Note about Sikander that "Jami wrote of his (Alexander's) Ethics as Nizami of his Deeds," for I saw somewhere that Jami's book was about the Greek Philosophy used by Alexander. If this be not so, tell me. I had altered Khord to Kurd also; but hate both words so that I wish to alter it wholly to "Arab"1—who is quite as good a Lay-figure for such Stories. Yours E.FG. 1 In

his last version EFG adopted "Arab" in place of "Kurd."

To E. B. Cowell [London] [February, 1856] If you have the Appendix Proof you will see I have altered the Version of Jami's Ode—partly for fun. There are some mistakes of Printing which I alter. But I want to cut out all the supplementary hints of English Construction—all the Genitive "of s" for instance, and leave the English bare as the Persian—as a better specimen of the original. In which case, I propose to add some lines of preliminary instruction for the Reader, of which I send you a scratch; which pray correct if it read

February 1856

very wrong, which it may do from a desire to press it into as few words as possible—just enough for the occasion. This, I hope, is the last Trouble I shall give you in this matter. Send it back as soon as you can. E.FG. About the J-*-* 1 I must tell you what I saw in the French Journal Asiatique—in a Review of Salamdn by Mr. Garcin de Tassy.2 After say­ ing that the Poem is sadly below Christian Morals, he describes the Plot, and then winds up with a sketch of Jami's Explanation. "SaMmdn qui nait sans Pere represente La Raison d-"· , qui est Ie produit de l'Esprit » sans [l']entremise du Corps etc." I went home wondering if you could have converted "Raison" into "Soul". But found the Error was not yours! This is the way Reviewers (and I suppose especially French ones) gravely analyze. 1 "Reason"

or "intellect." A review of Falconer's edition of Saldmdn and Absdl (Nouveau Journal Asiattque, vol. 16, 1850, p. 538), EFG's text. 3 "Pure soul." 2

To E. B. Cowell [London] [Late February, 1856] I translated that line of the Sage to Saldmdn—

"Thou Reader of the Book of Seven and Four" and added the Note about this meaning The Planets. On looking into Chardin's Travels1 I find some odd comment on this. He describes a Mosque at Com, and, on the Tomb of Abbds there, the Praises of the Great Saint AK "fait par Ie docte Hasan Cazyr." Some of these "Louanges" seem almost taken from Saldmdn. One runs in Chardin— "Infaillible Expositeur des Quatre Livres.(1) Conducteur des huit Mobiles.(2) Gouverneur des Sept Parties13' etc." To which Chardin adds in Note: "1. Le Pentateuque, Ie Pseautier, l'Evangile, !'Alcoran. 2. Les cieux des Planetes du premier mobile. 3. Les sept Climats, etc." It seems to me that perhaps Salamdn's Seven and Four may relate otherwise than to the eleven Planets after all. Perhaps the seven Cli­ mates, etc.2

February 1856 Another Verse in the same "Louange" is: "Archetype des Choses Creees. Instrument de la Creation du Monde. Le plus releve de la Race d'Adam. Ame des grands Apotres et Envoyez." "Ce peintre incomprehensible qui a tire tout d'un seul Coup de Pinceau Koun-fikoun, n'a jamais fait un si beau portrait que Ie Globe de ton Visage."3 Which "Kun" Chardin and his Editor note as the Kuran Verse. Now, how often repeated these "Louanges" may be in Persia I can't say; but is not the Resemblance very striking? There are seven Psalms of this Hasan Cazy to Ali; and all the foregoing Verses are in The First. All Caliph Ali's first descendants were (he says and you know) called Imam Zadeh ("Fils d'Apotres") and he says there are some 144 buried about Com. May not some of these Imams after all be of the "Seven and Four." Inscription on the Portal of the Mosque? "Oh Fidele, si tu demandes en quelle Annee a ete construit ce Portail, je te repons, de dessus Ie Portail, de Desir demande tes Desirs"4—which he again says in a Note, "Agha Mourad, Ie dernier mot signifie Disir'—and by the Cab­ alistic Letter—numbers he makes out to 61. But the original Building has nothing to do with the Date of the Tombs in its Chapels. All this don't trouble yourself about: I write it because I want it to amuse you. The Note, if wrong, will do very well: and can be apolo­ gised for in Preface or Appendix: and have an ? given to it in Text. I had altered much you wrote me of: one or two things I will give my reason for keeping hereafter. E.FG. I have bought the best Chardin in ten Volumes for 30s. How I wish you were at leisure to look at it with me! * "Hhacan gazy: ce Poeme n'est pas indique dans la Bibliotheque de Hhadjy Khalfah, ecrite en Arabe, et d'apres laquelle Ie savant d'Herbelot a principalement compose la sienne." Note of Chardin's Editor. 1 Sir John Chardin, Voyages du Chevalier Chardin en Perse et autres lieux de I'Orient, L. Langles, ed. 10 vols. Paris, 1811. 2 Chardin, II, 437. 3 Ibid., 438. ^ Ibid., 420.

March 1856 To Ε. Β. Cowell [London] [March, 1856] The "forty days' rain" I find is on the Authority of Chardin's Editor, Mr. Langles, rather than his. Chardin gives an Account of a Worm disease caused by drinking the Cistern-water so long. And the Editor notes that "dans Ie voisinage du Golfe Persique. On n'y boit que de l'eau de Pluie conservee dans Ies citernes, et il ne pleut chaque Annee que pendant quarante jours." Vol. VIII, p. 473. I cannot remember the Book in which I read about the Green Skies. Can you tell me when I told you of it? When I first came to London I asked at the London Library for a Book called "The Morning Land,"1 a Translation from some German's Travels in the East; where I may have seen it: but I can't get the Book. I have been looking over one of Fraser's Travels in Persia2 today, but can't find it there—he only mentions the Sky Green at Sunset, as it will be with us at times. I will do all I can to find it out for you. I think it must have been in that German Book. I must get on without Rosenzweig, thank you. Indeed I have quite enough for such a little Affair. But my aptitude to Blunder makes me try to be exact, which very solicitude confuses my Irish Brains worse. I have ventured to speak in Preface of the Persian Grammar as one whose very simplicity becomes its difficulty when applied to any com­ plex thought: and also becomes a Source of weariness in a work of any length. I seem to have observed this. The want of cases to nouns, tenses to Verbs (in any such "nuances" as Greek) being very pleasant to learn in Grammar, but a source of great difficulty in construing any hard Author; so few forms having to do duty in so many ways. I know their auxiliary Verbs do duty much as ours do; and it may be only prejudice when I look at a Persian page and see sentence after sentence shut up with a -»j-% 3 and revolt from it. Is it prejudice, or is it true that Persian which is so easy to begin is so difficult (as Borrow said it was)—and for the reason I give. Sir W. Jones and others talk of it as so "rich"—meaning, I suppose, in other ways than copiousness of words; but it always seems to me scanty (and so, after a time, tire­ some) in its Syntax. I will print the Zulf4 by itself as you desire—and rightly desire. If Childs have sent you the first forty pages of the Book you will see I altered most of the places you corrected; some I was too late for, but

March 1856 can retrieve in the Appendix: some very few I will one day give you my reasons for being obstinate about—very small points, I take it. Yours, E.FG. Do you know I cast my Preface into the Shape of a Letter to you— which I hope won't offend you—but am not sure about some things. 1 "By the author of 'Leila Ada'" [O.W.T. Heighway], 1854 (British Museum Catalogue). 2 James Bailie Fraser (1783-1856), traveler and writer. 3 "Did." i Zulf, "hair." EFG appears to refer to the passage in which Absal's beauty is described, Edition 1, Section XI.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [March, 1856] My dear Cowell, I had your Note which says you see my difficulty, and tells me to abide by the original Translation. I have been hammering my Brains to devise something nearer to the Original—nearer in the whole mean­ ing of the Poem: if illiteral in this one passage. I think something of what I enclosed will surely do: and really be an Improvement on the Persian. I. To leave it all with the King is contrary both to the passage at p. 22, and the Explanation of the Genesis of the Soul at the End (of the original);1 where the Primal Wisdom has part in it: and ought to have in the Nature of Things. This I bring in in the two passages I send a rough Sketch of. II. Instead of leaving the Process of Genesis to loose conjecture, I, by resolving the Persons into their Attributes, and making the Act an Act of Will and Wisdom, only refer it over to such Agency as Jami him­ self employs later in the Poem, and which, I cannot doubt, he had better have done here. If the Sage and Shah could part the Flames, and raise Absal's Image by Will,2 why not also by an intense Exertion of the same, Create SalAmdn—or draw him out of the Dark? He (Salaman) being in fact much more a pure Creation of their Brains than Fire, or Absal. Readers will not employ their Ingenuity in thinking how the Creation came to pass when they have read two or three

March 1856 more instances of the Power of the Will which are authentically ren­ dered. I repeat I cannot doubt that Jami ought to have used his own Contrivance in this passage as well as in succeeding ones. Now I must have a line more from you on this point: for as you have part in the Poem, and are addrest previously, I doubly wish to do away with all Equivoque: and yet doubly want not to lose any material Agency in the Poem. As to the spelling of "Mahmed" etc., I took Rosenzweig's as I found it: as I took Chardin's "Mahomet". I myself have, I see in the Appendix, printed it "Mahommed": and that is irrevocable. I have therefore added a line to Errata to apologize for all this: simply saying that I leave the several Authors I have quoted with their several ways of writing that and other Names. Give me one line directly. E.FG. Salaman's coming from Heaven, you know, follows directly on his Genesis; which ought to remove any Suspicions etc. And, as I now ren­ der it, something of the same effect of Will or Wisdom has already been done by that Sheikh in the Story about the unruly Lad.3 It seems hard that the Shah's Sheikh should not have a Greater Power in the same way. However, I think that from this which has gone before, and what follows after about the Sage's Magic, no one will stop to con­ sider The Means whereby Salaman is Created. Sections VII and XXX, first edition, Saldmdn and Absdl. Section XXVI. 3 Apologue, Section V.

1 See 2

To E. B. Cowell [London] [March, 1856] Dear EBC, Donne tells me that in a Book I sent back to the London Library was hid up a Letter from me to you. It may be some one I wrote and forgot weeks ago—so don't answer it, if you see old Queries. I see after all I have left two paragraphs improperly transposed at pp. 58 and 60. "Ah the poor Lover" etc. ought to have been where "Heaven's Dome etc." is and vice versa.1 Since "Love's back blow etc." is scarce felt till after the Fire which was to be endured for Ascetic

March 1856 Penance. This is not exprest indeed in the original; but certainly is so best; and so intended by me: and I only just find it is not done! Is it worth altering?2 Tell me this. E.FG. x

The opening lines of Sections XXIII and XXIV. text was not altered. The passages are commentaries: the first on the un­ happy lot of lovers; the second on the vicissitudes of life, in which happiness is "a lying Fable." The interpolations do not affect the narrative and are interchangeable. 2 The

To Alfred Tennyson 31 Great Portland St. Portland Place [c. March 15, 1856] Dear Alfred, What are you about?—Stationary or about to move? My London stay is about to close; and I am getting more Affairs than one wound up— for Better or Worse! I hope to go down to see you; at least let me have a line to tell about yourselves. Are you moving, or people moving to you at Easter? I hear and see nothing—scarce even old Friends, for we are all get­ ting into our own ways, and forswearing the late hours of old etc. I scarce see Spedding once in ten days. He moves along with his Bacon. Carlyle I see sometimes—you were with him at Lord Ashburton's.1 I have been to Oxford to see the Cowells; and am in terror lest they should go away to India!—he for a Professorship at Calcutta. So I keep praying that all negotiations and Letters of Interest may miscarry. Kemble is still in London:2 the same Boy he was thirty years ago. They have bought a disgraceful P. Veronese for the National Gallery.3 I have made some sort [of] Acquaintance (in my flimsy way) with German which I like. Now to end this tissue of Scraps—give my best Regards to the Lady and believe me yours E.FG.

Rosebud before, in the Garden "Comes News that Autumn is come and Spring departed.'

March 1856 1

At the Christmas party at the Grange in Hampshire. M . K e m b l e h a d s p e n t six years i n G e r m a n y t o o b t a i n a divorce f r o m h i s German-born wife. The Annual Register for 1857 states that he had left England in July, 1849, and returned in May, 1855 ("Appendix to Chronicle," p. 299). 3 "The Adoration of the Magi," bought by Sir Charles Eastlake, Director, for £.1,977. There was considerable controversy among critics over the merits of the picture. Pollock recorded, "It is hardly a first-rate example of the master, and has been cleaned and retouched in places; but one cannot doubt the wisdom of securing i t a t t h e price p a i d " (Personal R e m e m b r a n c e s , II, 4 7 ) . 2J.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [March, 1856] My dear Cowell, I can't help writing to you about Timur's Institutes1 of which I bought a Copy last night—Persian and English—a very handsome quarto for 3.6. It is common enough at about 5s. I hear: and well worth it. The Translation reads very well—the Persian (with it!) very easy: and the Book is really a noble thing! I mean to send it to Carlyle to look over, for he ought to make acquaintance with it now he is about Frederic. There is some lengthy preliminary Question as to the Authen­ ticity of the Book2—of course one would be well enough pleased if that were Historically settled (as it may be since this Translation was made). But that it was originally written by A Great Man I am sure. Timur too has his Sage behind the Throne whose Advice he takes: his he calls him; I suppose something of a Seer whose Sacred Au­ thority might back his own. He figures however in Timur's Chronicle of "Designs and Enterprizes" which is also part of this Book, and very interesting. You must have this Book. I will either find you another Copy, or give you this: for you must have one. You told me of it, as of so much else. If you go to India I shall never hear of anything more, and shall drown my Books. I send you by this Post some Samples of Tobacco to try: the "York River" is what Carlyle smokes. Whichever you like, I will send you a Batch; or you might like to mix some of the Strong and Mild—"Cowell's Mixture." I wrote you a note yesterday about Salaman; but don't answer it, for I will leave the thing as it is now. In some respects it does best as

March 1856 it is, and Jami himself is accountable for the want of due distinctness as to the motive for the Funeral Pyre. Yours, E.FG. 1 Malfuzdt and Tuzukdt-i-Timiiri (Political and Military Institutes of Timiir). A Persian text with English translation by Major Davy and Dr. Joseph White, Oxford, 1783. 2 See E. G. Browne, Literary History of Persia, III, 184.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [March, 1856] Jggp3 Nothing here needs quick looking at, My dear Cowell, nor any answer. I was talking to Doctor Carlyle ("Great Tom's" Brother) about India; and he gave but an ill account, I thought, of the Climate of Calcutta—damp and relaxing—and he mentioned the disgust of the frequent sight of Bodies floating down the HooghIy etc. which I have often read of. He says in general of India that it is not well to set up there after thirty.1 I don't know if Dr. C. is a very wise Doctor: but I suppose the long experience of the Faculty in this Matter attains to Prophetic Strain. I can't help writing it to you, come what may of it. For there is at least now an opportunity to decline the whole affair if After-thought shows it perilous. At the same time I am half afraid of speaking because I know in my own constant Experience how terrible it is to be puzzled by one's own and Friend's Counsel—like poor Salaman! I can't tell how it is in the Interior of your Family Economy; but 1 can't see why you should not prosper well in England instead of that Exile. You have as much Coaching as you want at Oxford; you rise constantly in Reputation; I, and all who know you, feel sure you will get on. Some Professorship will one day relieve you from Coaching and then you can work at Things you ought. The Calcutta Place would be capital were it not at Calcutta, which is of course a Truism. Only, if you remain in England you must limit your Number of Pupils, and strictly limit them to their due Time·, not only for your Health, but because you are wanted to do other Things—Hafiz, Rdmayana etc. This is positively so. Let me say that should you want Money to make it up, I have it, and shall (without regard to you) take care to have some to

March 1856 spare every Year, so long as the Public Securities hold. I always must live well within my Income whatever that be, and whatever Fate has in hand for me (and she will soon open it)—this being my only sense of Riches and great Earthly Luxury: I don't mean the Luxury of hoard­ ing: but to live so as you feel that you can do what you do easily and handsomely, and have enough in the Cupboard for occasional Emer­ gency. On this account, I always lay by something: how glad I should be if you would both now and hereafter ease me of some of it, and keep here in England to do so! Would I not—will I not—pay a good Sum to keep you both here? What is to become of my Stupendous Learning when you go? I scarce see my old Friends, and make no new ones. I shall die starved of human regard; and besides that shall be­ come a filthy Miser if I keep laying by. I have really felt myself grow fond of Money since this time last year when I began to have some at the Bank. I wish you would think of this, and show me you can trust in me by acting upon it. I want you to do Work in England, as well as help to keep me alive in it. Think of this. Yesterday I went to Allen's2 to look for those Persian Months but neither he nor I could make them out from the Tables. So I sent off the thing as it was to be printed. But I bought Volume I of McNaghten's Arabic Arabian Nights, and Torrens' Translation3 thereof; and also The "Tuhfat al-Ahrar"4 or whatever its Spelling be. There's for you! At night I went to Carlyle's, and found him sitting over Timur!5 He had not got however far over the Introduction which had greatly interested him—the Work of one White of Oxford, whom C. thinks very highly of. He gave me general Orders to read anything of White's I came across. I am sure he will like Timur himself if not sickened by my Recommendation which I made as light as possible. You shall have the Book when he has done with it; for your own; we have it at the London Library. You should make some Tract about Timur—bringing in what Black and White Sheep6 you like by the way. He would be a fine Subject. I am relieved to find you like the second of my proposed Alterations; for to tell you the Truth I had sent it off—that very one—before I had your Letter: for I got really sick of bothering myself or the Printer any more about it. Do you know I have shirked your Latin Line "Phosphorus duxit etc." and given a bit of Monkish Latin (as I call it) for Example. "Dum SaMman verba Regis cogitat, Pectus intra de profundis aestuat."7

March 1856 I wanted "Pectus illi"—but I suspect that would refer to the King. I am sure a capital Translation of this and other Persian Poems might be made in such Latin; I wish I was adept enough at Latin to do them.8 One could have done the Poem in English sufficiently near the original metre: but the necessity of beginning with the long Syllable is a clog on our Language full of short particles—prepositions, conjunctions, Articles, etc. E.FG. Carlyle says the Koran is all disjointed and so left—the Arabs etc. not caring to set it right since they can lay their hands on what they want in it as easily as he can on any Song in Burns. He says this re-ordering ought to be done. He says the best of all accounts of Mahomet is De Sacy's in the Biographie Universelle. P.S. I have been looking at the Physiognomy of the Tuhfat:9 and am glad to find that I can gather a kind of outline as I look: and that many words are familiar to me, and many lines come out as I look at them. I shall read it: though I dare say I shall leave many a hiatus if you go to India. I was amused with the Story of the Tortoise carried in the air by the uUa_j 10 (j suppose Ja_>10 and Duck are really the same word?) —and (as "seen through a glass") some pretty lines following about Jami's sleeping while the Bird of Morning wakes. And there I see an 11 worse than him of the Majniin tempted to his Shame by a black haired Deceiver. And the Sage who falls into a well and won't be got out (is it?) unless by one of the Initiate? For I only gave a glance at it. I write it all because you will be pleased to see your Scholar does not faint yet. But I shan't find another Salaman; nor indeed do I wish, for he has really cost me more trouble than I shall be repaid for. I don't mean in money, but in what he is now worth, or will be thought worth, under my hands. Yet I am glad to have done him as a Record of You and Yours!—come what may of it. Perhaps only it would have been better to keep it to ourselves and Friends. But I have told Parker—12 1

Cowell had reached his 30th birthday on January 23. Probably William H. Allen, book dealer who specialized in Oriental works. 3Sir William Hay MacNaghten (1793-1841) edited Alif Laila, the Arabic text of The Thousand and One Nights, 4 vols., Calcutta, 1839-42. Henry W. Torrens (1806-52) published in 1838 one volume of a translation of MacNaghten's Alif Laila. 4 The Gift of the Free, a poem by JamL Variously spelled. E. G. Browne's form is Tuhfatu'l Ahrar. EFG's book, edited by Forbes Falconer, was published in 1848. 5 See preceding letter, n.l. 2

March 1856 6 Black and White Sheep, warring factions active in Persia during the Timurid period in the first half of the 15th century. 7 EFG composed these lines to demonstrate the metric pattern of the original Persian. They appear twice in the introduction to SaUmAn and Absdl: first, in the dedicatory letter to Cowell; second, in the "Notice of the Life of Jami." In the latter "illi" is substituted for "intra." 8 EFG later translated portions of the Rubdiydt into "Monkish Latin." His in­ complete Latin version was published by A. J. Arberry (The Romance of the Rubdiyat), 1959, pp. 58-64). 9 General outline. 10 "Ducks" and "duck." 11 "Old Sage." 12 The publisher.

To E. B. Cowell 31 Gt. P. St. Tuesday [March 25,1856] My dear Cowell, I shall be very glad to see you though sad at heart at what you tell me.1 Call if you can before 2 P.M. since I have to go out then to the City (whitherward perhaps you will go). But I shall be in again at 5, or ¾ past for all the Evening. E.FG. Here is "Timur" and a German Sanskrit Catalogue by Adelung for you: and some W. Ouseley I want to show you. 1 That

Cowell would not reverse his decision to go to India.

To Ε. B. Cowell1 [London] [April 4,1856] My dear Cowell, Two years ago, when we began (I for the first time) to read this Poem together, I wanted you to translate it, as something that should interest a few who are worth interesting. You, however, did not see the way clear then, and had Aristotle pulling you by one Shoulder and Prakrit Vararuchi by the other, so as indeed to have hindered you up to

April 1856 this time completing a Version of Hafiz' best Odes which you had then happily begun. So, continuing ta like old Jami more and more, I must try my hand upon him; and here is my reduced Version of a small Original. What Scholarship it has is yours, my Master in Persian, and so much beside; who are no further answerable for all than by well liking and wishing publisht what you may scarce have Leisure to find due fault with. Had all the Poem been like Parts, it would have been all translated, and in such Prose lines as you measure Hafiz in, and such as any one should adopt who does not feel himself so much of a Poet as him he translates and some he translates for—before whom it is best to lay the raw material as genuine as may be, to work up to their own better Fancies. But, unlike Hafiz' best—(whose Sonnets are sometimes as close packt as Shakespeare's, which they resemble in more ways than one)—Jami, you know, like his Countrymen generally, is very diffuse in what he tells and his way of telling it. The very structure of the Persian Couplet—(here, like people on the Stage, I am repeating to you what you know, with an Eye to the small Audience beyond)—so often ending with the same Word, or Two Words, if but the foregoing Syllable secure a lawful Rhyme, so often makes the Second Line but a slightly varied Repetition, or Modification of the First, and gets slowly over Ground often hardly worth gaining. This iteration is common indeed to the Hebrew Psalms and Proverbs—where, however, the Value of the Repetition is different. In your Hafiz also, not Two only, but Eight or Ten Lines perhaps are tied to the same Close of Two—or Three—words; a verbal Ingenuity as much valued in the East as better Thought. And how many of all the Odes called his, more and fewer in various Copies, do you yourself care to deal with? And in the better ones how often some lines, as I think for this reason, unworthy of the Rest—interpolated perhaps from the Mouths of his many Devotees, Mystical and Sensual—or crept into Manuscripts of which he never arranged or corrected one from the First? This, together with the confined Action of Persian Grammar, whose organic simplicity seems to me its difficulty when applied, makes the Line by Line Translation of a Poem not line by line precious tedious in proportion to its length. Especially—(what the Sonnet does not feel)— in the Narrative; which I found when once eased in its Collar, and yet missing somewhat of rhythmical Amble, somehow, and not without resistance on my part, swerved into that "easy road" of Verse—easiest as unbeset with any exigencies of Rhyme. Those little Stories, too, which you thought untractable, but which have their Use as well as

April 1856

Humour by way of quaint Interlude Music between the little Acts, felt ill at ease in solemn Lowth-Isaiah Prose, and had learn'd their tune, you know, before even Hiawatha came to teach people to quarrel about it. Till, one part drawing on another, the Whole grew to the present form. As for the much bodily omitted—it may be readily guessed that an Asiatic of the fifteenth Century might say much on such a subject that an Englishman of the nineteenth would not care to read. Not that our Jami is ever licentious like his Contemporary Chaucer, nor like Chau­ cer's Posterity in Times that called themselves more Civil. But better Men will not now endure a simplicity of Speech that Worse men abuse. Then the many more, and foolisher, Stories—preliminary Te Deums to Allah and Allah's-shadow Shah—very much about Alef Noses, Eye­ brows like inverted Nuns, drunken Narcissus Eyes—and that eternal Moon Face which never wanes from Persia—of all which there is surely enough in this Glimpse of the Original. No doubt some Oriental character escapes—the Story sometimes becomes too Skin and Bone without due interval of even Stupid and Bad. Of the two Evils?—At least what I have chosen is least in point of bulk; scarcely in proportion with the length of its Apology which, as usual, probably discharges one's own Conscience at too great a Price; people at once turning against you the Arms they might have wanted had you not laid them down. However it may be with this, I am sure a complete Translation —even in Prose—would not have been a readable one—which, after all, is a useful property of most Books, even of Poetry. In studying the Original, you know, one gets contentedly carried over barren Ground in a new Land of Language—excited by chasing any new Game that will but show Sport; the most worthless to win asking perhaps all the sharper Energy to pursue, and so far yielding all the more Satisfaction when run down. Especially, cheered on as I was by such a Huntsman as poor Dog of a Persian Scholar never hunted with before; and moreover—but that was rather in the Spanish Sierras2—by the Presence of a Lady in the Field, silently brightening about us like Aurora's Self, or chiming in with musical Encouragement that all we started and ran down must be Royal Game! Ah, happy Days! When shall we Three meet again—when dip in that unretuming Tide of Time and Circumstance! In those Meadows far from the World, it seemed, as Salaman's Island—before an Iron Rail­ way broke the Heart of that Happy Valley whose Gossip was the Millwheel, and Visitors the Summer Airs that momentarily ruffled the sleepy Stream that turned it as they chased one another over to lose

April 1856 themselves in Whispers in the Copse beyond. Or returning—I suppose you remember whose Lines they are—3 When Winter Skies were tinged with Crimson still Where Thornbush nestles on the quiet hill, And the live Amber round the setting Sun, Lighting the Labourer home whose Work is done, Burn'd like a Golden Angel-ground above The solitary Home of Peace and Love— at such an hour drawing home together for a fireside Night of it with ^ilschylus or Calderon in the Cottage, whose walls, modest almost as those of the Poor who clustered—and with good reason—round, make to my Eyes the Towered Crown of Oxford hanging in the Horizon, and with all Honour won, but a dingy Vapour in Comparison. And now, should they beckon from the terrible Ganges, and this little Book begun as a happy Record of past, and pledge perhaps of future, Fellowship in Study, darken already with the shadow of everlasting Farewell! But to turn from you Two to a Public—nearly as numerous—(with whom, by the way, this Letter may die without a name that you know very well how to supply),—here is the best I could make of Jami's Poem—"Ouvrage de peu detendue," says the Biographie Universelle, and, whatever that means, here collapsed into a nutshell Epic indeed; whose Story however, if nothing else, may interest some Scholars as one of Persian Mysticism—perhaps the grand Mystery of all Religions—an Allegory fairly devised and carried out—dramatically culminating as it goes on; and told as to this day the East loves to tell her Story, illus­ trated by Fables and Tales, so often (as we read in the latest Travels) at the expense of the poor Arab of the Desert. The Proper Names—and some other Words peculiar to the East— are printed as near as may be to their native shape and sound—"Sulayman" for Solomon—"Yusuf" for Joseph, etc., as being not only more musical, but retaining their Oriental flavour unalloyed with European Association. The accented Vowels are to be pronounced long, as in Italian—Saldmdn—Absal—Shirin, etc. The Original is in rhymed Couplets of this measure—

which those who like Monkish Latin may remember in Dum Saldman verba Regis cogitat, Pectus intra de profundis aestuat.

April 1856

or in English—by way of asking, "your Clemency for us and for our Tragedy" Of Salaman and of Absal hear the Song; Little wants Man here below, nor little long. 1 EFG's prefatory letter to his translation of SalAmdn and, Absdl. He had been composing it since early March. 2 An allusion to their Spanish studies. 3 "The lines quoted in the Preface to Salaman come from a poem of my wife's. He has altered them more suo, —they really run

The autumn sky is tinged with crimson still Where Thornbush lies upon the quiet hill, And the live amber round the setting sun, Lighting the labourer home whose work is done, Weaveth a glory, as it fades above That solitary home of household love. Thornbush was the name of a farm on a hill above Bramford" (Letter from Cowell to Aldis Wright, July 11, 1888, Cowell biography, p. 308).

A copy of SalArwn and Absal in the Cambridge University Library bears the inscription, Edward Cowell from Edward FitzGeraId Friday April 4/1856

To E. B. CowelI 31 Gt. Portland St. P. Place [April 7,1856] My dear Cowell, Hearing and seeing no more of you, I conclude you are gone to Oxford. Let me know always if I can do anything for you here. One good Deed I have done you; got Spedding to promise you a Copy of his Bacon Dialogue!1—and I will send it down with the "Humasa"2 (?) when W. and Norgate have that ready. You should really take with you some Milton's Prose, Swift, Cobbett, Dryden, and some of the stout English Writers before the Language got diluted as it now is; men to read, if not for their matter, for their Language. When I turn from them to modern Books (except such as Spedding's and Tennyson's and DeQuincey's) I revolt! This may seem but a humorous fancy: but after

April 185& all, true English is no mean thing: and when one talks of vigorous Language one necessarily (if unconsciously) includes vigorous Thought too. I have got the first Volume of Burton's Mecca;3 very interesting indeed. I was reading yesterday (or rather looking over) the Section about "Watching"—page 62 of the Tuhfat—which is very good, and, in its Enumeration of the hand of God stringing the Stars etc. is remarkably like Job. I am afraid line 1104 ( JJS ) will not throw Light on our Blue and Green Dilemma, though it might (I suppose from the Dic­ tionary) be construed (who) "sifted Blue over the Green Expanse" as if to indicate the Blue of Day superseding the Green of Dawn. But I suppose Ir*means simply "The Sky". I should like to know that the Delicacy of neither of you was of­ fended by the Opening Letter to Salaman. I tried hard to say little enough. E.FG. 1

Evenings with a Reviewer, published privately. HamAsa, anthology of ancient Arabic poetry, by Abu Tammam. 3 Richard Burton (1821-90) visited Mecca in 1853 disguised as an Afghan pil­ grim. His account of the journey, Pilgrimage to El Medina and Mecca, was pub­ lished in three volumes in 1856-57. 4 Literal translation, "green sheet." 2

To E. B. Cowell [London] [April 11,1856] My dear Cowelly You will understand I did not write to exact praise of the Preface, but only to take confidence that there was nothing in it to revolt you or your Wife. These sort of Recognitions are dangerous things to pub­ lish: and yet had I asked you to read the Preface over before publisht, you might perhaps have felt bound to decline what, when publisht, is only your due and, as I hope and trust, conveyed with no offensive Unction. I will send you Copies of Salaman with Spedding's Book. Will you send a Copy to Professor Wilson1 or shall I? I will send to Johnson.2 I scarce expected you that Saturday though I was in at my usual

April 1856 time and had two fresh Eggs for you. I shall try and get down to Oxford for a few days. I called the day before Yesterday at W. and Norgate's who seemed quite in the dark about Hurrnsa; but at last found they had sent an Order for it dated April 2. If I can get you any Books here tell me. I think you should have the one Volume Copy of Milton's Prose Works. I will try and find you Wesley's Journal—a capi­ tal Book of its kind; telling one of old English places and so written as none of the Great Writers from Addison to Burke could write (includ­ ing themselves). Don't trouble yourself to answer. E.FG. I should like Professor Miiller3 to have Salaman if he will condescend. But don't mention my name till I am got clear of London. None of my friends here know. P.S. I ordered that Nizami4 three days ago: and Garcin de Tassy5 too—but of W. and Norgate! 1 Η.

H. Wilson. Probably Francis Johnson (1796?-1876), Professor of Sanskrit at the East India Company College at Haileybury. 3 Friedrich Max Miiller, Oxford Orientalist. * See letter to Cowell, May 7, 1855, n.l. 5 His La Poesie philosophique et religieuse chez Ies Persons, which had just been published in Paris. 2

To E. B. Cowell [London] [April 14,1856] My dear Cowell, Here is a large parcel come from W. and Norgate's. I conclude, Humdsa: shall it go down to you with Spedding's Book and some Salamdns—or abide here—or at Mr. Charlesworth's—till you come? You must give your Mother and any one of your family who wills a Salaman from me; since you are so involved in it. I sent one on Satur­ day to Professor Wilson, and Johnson; who (the Latter) is, I hear, very ill. He lately married, against all expectation. E.FG. I am very glad to hear of the MS. Transcripts.1 Would you like to see all Chardin?

April 1856 1 Probably

portions of Omar Khayyam's Rubdiydt copied from the MS which Cowell had found among Persian MSS of the Ouseley Collection in the Bodleian Library. EFG's remark fixes the approximate date of the discovery. Cowell tran­ scribed the entire MS for EFG in July.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [April 21,1856] My dear Cowell, I sent you off a Box with Humasa, Salamans, Chardin, etc. last week. I only want to know if it has reached you or not; as it ought to have reached you long before this; and if it have not, some mischance has happened that we must ask after. Yours ever E.FG.

To Mrs. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland St. April 24156 My dear Lady, Thank you for your Letter and its Enclosure.1 I doubt Professor Miiller's good word is more owing to your desire of gaining it for me than my own desert; but he is very kind to say it still. I wish you would tell him this: that I should not have troubled him with the Book but for your Husband's having been so mixt up in it and personally recorded in it. So it is with Professor Wilson. I was sure they would be pleased with ever so small a testimony to him. My only fear was lest there might lurk some Blunder which might discredit him; and I had great mis­ givings about the Letter at the Beginning, lest it should anyway offend the Delicacy of either of you. Had not you been going to leave us— some of us!—for ever, I should simply have dedicated the Book to him with a short, but perfect, Acknowledgement that without him it never would have been, and that all worth having in it was his. But when, as [ was writing out a Preface, came the News—and the Certain News— that you were both going to India—then, one night as I sat looking into the Fire by myself and seeing you and him and Bramford in the

April 1856

Embers,—then all came into my Head and Heart to write what is written—only much more, which I chipped away to what now remains for fear of too much, and of offence. If you and he are pleased with it and with the Book I am satisfied in the main; I also wished to please a few others; as for the Public, the Book is but another Drop in the Ocean. I cannot lay my hand on Landor's scrap,2 nor should you wish for such a crotchet of that Generous old Fellow, who deals out furious praise on what is of less worth than Salaman. You too, my dear Lady, you know have some such Faculty; but I accept all from you in this case because you may very sincerely praise what is good and best in the Book—with the satisfaction of referring it to one whom you cannot praise too well. I should like to hear how long you are to be at Oxford: whither you go afterward etc. Sometimes I think I'll not look on you again! I hope your Father and Mother believe it is from no want of Respect and Regard I do not knock at their Door; it is a complication of Feel­ ings which deters me from what else would be a Pleasure; and perhaps you and they will ere long see reason to pardon me. Yours and theirs ever truly Edward FitzGerald The Picture3 goes off today to you. 1 Professor Miiller wrote, "May I ask you to convey my best thanks to Mr. FitzGerald for his beautiful present? I have only had time to look at it here and there, but I have seen quite enough to know that it will be a pleasure to read the whole, and that a poet, Jami, has found a poet, worthy to be his translator" (Cambridge University Library M S ) . 2 He had sent a copy of Saldmdn and Absdl to Walter Savage Landor. 3 Painted by Thomas Churchyard.

To Mrs. Cowell London, Friday [April 25,1856] My dear Lady, The Picture after all did not go down yesterday as I meant, but shall and will go tomorrow (Saturday). Also I shall send you dear Major Moor's "Oriental Fragments";1 an almost worthless Book, I doubt, to those who did not know him—which means, love him! And somehow all of us in our corner of Suffolk knew something of him: and so again

April 1856 loved something of him. For there was nothing at all about him not to be beloved. Ah! I think how interested he would have been with all this Persian: and how we should have disputed over parts and expres­ sions over a glass of his Shiraz wine (for he had some) in his snug Parlour, or in his Cornfields when the Sun fell upon the latest Gleaners! He is dead, and you will go where he lived, to be dead to me! Remember to take poor Barton's little Book2 with you to India; better than many a better Book to you there! I got a glimpse of Professor Miiller's Essay3—full of fine things; but I hardly gather it up into a good whole, which is very likely my fault; from hasty perusal, ignorance, or other Incapacity. Perhaps, on the other hand, he found the Subject too great for his Space; and so has left it disproportioned, which the German is not inapt to do. But one may be well thankful for such admirable fragments, perhaps left so in the very honesty that is above rounding them off into a specious Theory which will not hold. Yours ever, E.FG. 1 A miscellany on facets of Eastern cultures published in 1834. The Major was keenly interested in linguistics, and the greater part of his book is devoted to "Names of Places, Mountains, Rivers, etc. . . . Apparently of Sanskrit Origin." Traces of Hinduisms in the names, he states, indicate that "distant parts of the world were inhabited by a race who had a language very similar to that found now . . . in India only." EFG's gift copy, now in the library at Syracuse University, is inscribed:

Edward Cowell from Edward FitzGerald April 26/1856 2 The 3

posthumous volume of poems and letters. "On Comparative Mythology," Oxford Essays, 1856.

To Mrs. Cowell [London] [April 29,1856] My dear Lady,

You did not tell me in your last what your Plans are about Oxford: how long you are to be there, and where to go when you leave it.

May 1856 I am very glad you like the Picture, and so will be poor Mr. Church­ yard. To think that his Handywork shall delight Men's Eyes in Cal­ cutta! My Business yet holds me here. Only today I have a prospect of Naseby,1 which ought to have been settled four months ago, getting into Chancery for a short Interlude! If you see Trench's new Book about Calderon2 you will see he has dealt very handsomely with me. He does not approve the Principle I went on; and what has he made of his own! I say this with every reason, as you will see, to praise him for his good word. He seems to me wrong about his "assonantes," which were much better wnassonanted as Cowell did his Specimens.3 With Trench the Language has to be forced to secure the shadow of a Rhyme which is no pleasure to the Ear. So it seems to me on a hasty Look. What of The Schools?* Yours, dear Lady, E.FG. 1A

prospect of the completion of the sale of the estate at Naseby. Richard Chenevix Trench, Life's a Dream: The Great Theatre of the World. In his introductory essay, Trench states that Calderon's plays translated by EFG "are the most important and worthiest contribution to the knowledge of the Span­ ish poet which we have yet received" (p. 120). s Cowell's article, "Spanish Literature," The Westminster Review, American ed., Jan., 1851, pp. 143-62. 4 Tlie courses of study at Oxford in which honors may be taken. 2

To Mrs. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland St. Thursday [May 1,1856] My dear Lady, You had told me that you were to leave Oxford at the end of May and were to divide your Time between Barnsby and Rushmere. I only wanted to know in addition which of the two latter places you were first to go to. Do not trouble yourself more at present to resolve a Question which you can perhaps no more decide than I. Tell EBC I should not have written to him had I known he was so busy. But I thought he had but a few Pupils this term. And my Letter

May 1856 did not in the least want Answer. I only wanted him to write a line to Spedding. I am very glad Professor Wilson thinks well of Salaman— and how obliged to you for the Interest you take in it! I cannot speak of going to Oxford yet! For my Sister Lusia is just come to Town; and I am yet in Lawyer's hands—corresponding with Lord Carlisle on the subject of Naseby! If he rule Ireland1 with the same Sagacity he manages a Trusteeship with!—I leave you to guess what follows. I am so glad you like Mr. Churchyard's Picture. I liked it so well as to choose it from all he had done; and he thought it one of his Best. He is greatly flattered at your Liking. Yours ever, E.FG. Will you send my Hamper here, properly secured? 1 Lord

Carlisle was Viceroy of Ireland, 1855-58.

To E. B. Cowell [London] [May 10,1856] My dear Cowell, I am glad my shot at Hafiz was not so far wide of the mark, though I could not have shot at all without Von Hammer. Why do you call it "bitter" wine? Surely only "sharp" is intended. Bitter would be disagree­ able: whereas "sharp" only expresses a Delight whose Edge cuts away all other Taste of the weary World from the Palate. I think you might string together the stray good Lines from some of the otherwise worthless Odes—empty Bottles!—in a very good Fashion which I will tell you about when we meet. I am tied to London by Lilliput strings which others would break through I dare say: partly Business; being the only one of my Family on the Spot while this con­ founded Naseby Sale never is, but always is to be, completed—(they now talk of Saturday, the 24th); and partly that I am waiting for a Bedfordshire Parson who wants me to introduce him to Kemble for the benefit of his Anglo-Saxon. Never fear that I shall get to you somehow and somewhere: though, as I told your Wife, I think it would be best for me to shirk it. By the bye, I wish you would apologise to her (though she won't care for it) for the Liberty I took with her delightful Verses in my Letter.1 I made Thornbush "nestle" not "lie" on the Hill to avoid a

May 1856

little jingle with "sky" in the foregoing Line. The Line "Burned like a Golden Angel ground above," etc., was meant to refer to those early Religious Pictures (Pre-Rafaelite!) where one sees a literally Gold ground teeming with Angel outlines, either over the heads of some Holy Family or of some purple Background. The Idea is a good one; but the expression not what it should be; nor should I have substituted so much except that we never could get the original Line to anything like the Goodness of the rest. This will at least show you I did not alter the Verses without consideration, howsoever it may succeed. I reckoned that you would carry Mr. Kitchin2 a Salaman when you went to him, as I saw by his Letter you were to do. I can send one any Day. Will you give the Major3 a copy also, with my kindest Regards? If you will have any more Copies "there are still a few to be got!" Trench writes about "getting to see his way into the Book," which one can't well understand: for the Allegory etc. is clear enough. Have you seen his Calderon? No—you have not. I don't think he has solved the Difficulty; but he has been really exceedingly kind in going out of his way to praise me whose Sympathies lie so far from his own. I feel a strange pleasure in giving you dear Major Moor's almost worthless Book. The letter to Major Price4 at the Beginning is worth any Money, and almost any Love! Thackeray is back5—not very well. Yours and hers, my dear Cowell, E.FG. 1 The

dedicatory letter to Cowell in Saldmdn and Absdl. Cowell's friend, George Kitchen. 3 Major Hockley. 4 Aldis Wright records, "This dedication by Major Moor to his old comrade-inarms FitzGerald would sometimes try to read aloud, but would break down before he could finish it" (Letters and Literary Remains, II, 43, n . l ) . 5 From his lecture tour in America. 2

To E. B. Cowell 31 Gt. Portland St. May 15 [1856] My dear Cowell, Let me have a line from you or Wife to say how you both are. About those Classes too! Are you disappointed about Monkhouse?11 suppose you are; but I always thought you might pitch expectation too high about him. A bright, candid, fellow of good Abilities; but why should

June 1856 any one else suppose he should take the same Class you did, though with a half year's Coaching from you? W. Browne, to whom I was talking weeks ago, and who knows and likes young Monkhouse very much, said the same then. I was down at Bedford from last Saturday till Tuesday and saw Uncle Monkhouse;2 who attributed his Nephew's failure (if it can so be called—I don't think it can) to some deficiency in History: and said he had been very urgent with him to go on with you to the very last. It appears the Young Man had always told his Uncle and all his Friends he should not possibly reach beyond the Second Class. He has done quite enough. I believe he is one who has a little shattered himself with Study; his Uncle told me he was greatly complaining of Headaches a year ago; and W. Browne said that the Uncle had been wrong in not letting the Nephew relax. But the Uncle is as strong as a Horse, and can't believe a young Fellow needs any such Forbearance. W.B. has had the Uncle of those two little Girls3 with him, and they talk of going together before long, I believe, into Suffolk to consult about Mrs. Umpleby. I told you he (W.B.) thought it advisable to defer something to that Uncle's opinion (who has no legal control how­ ever) and so waited for his return from the Crimea. Poor WB is plagued with an Ear which (whether from some Blow at School, or natural 111 Disposition) has made him deaf for twenty-five years and more, and has now risen into fresh Rebellion that threatens Danger to even more vital Faculties. This is terrible, and, with your going, worries me sadly. Crabbe writes he has been ill. So we go on. Let me have a Line. It is not from want of Will I don't yet go to you, as you will perhaps understand. E.FG. 1

CowelFs pupil, John Monkhouse. The Vicar of Goldington. 3 The Brownes' nieces. 2

To Stephen Spring Rice 31. Gt. Portland St. June 5/56 My dear Spring Rice, Ever since we had some communication in January I have been hanging about here. For a long while you were at Torquay: and I

June 1856

took for granted somehow you would let me know of your Return. But I have had my Bothers (I don't mean Law)1 and have been shut up in my Cell here—and I dare say you did not know I was in the Land of the Living. I believe I have done with Law, and Property Settlements; and am really talking of rushing (you recognize your old Cambridge word!) into the Country somewhere on Saturday. Hitherto I have got no far­ ther than Oxford—but that is over! This is why (I mean, my breaking up here) that makes me now send you a queer Book2 which I some­ how think you will be a little interested in—not very much. But you have been one of my Patrons: and, in other respects, this Book was only meant for a few men like yourself for Reasons which itself will explain. I don't know if you think me a great Dickey3 and Beast for kennelling here all so alone—but it can't be helped, I believe. I am very sure I love a very few men in my own way: and you are really one of them. My dear Spring Rice, Good Bye for the present. Yours, and all yours, ever E.FG. 1 His

impending marriage to Lucy Barton.

2 Saldmdn 3 Suffolk

and Absdl.

for donkey.

To Mrs. Cowell [London] [June 6,1856] My dear Lady, You are, I know, no Lover of fine ornament, nor am I. Having ob­ served however that Ladies who love even the least ornament generally wear some sort of Brooch to fasten their shawls, I bought two the other day of a very inexpensive Material—so much so that I ain told Doors and Windows are made of it in Russia—Malachite— Λ- 1—and I want you to take one to India, because the figure is of one of those Green Leaves that will recall old England's Verdure and Coolness to you—on the Banks of the Ganges! There is an Oak Leaf—and an Ivy Leaf—take one or both. Perhaps your Sister2 would wave the formal Etiquette that prevails in England, and accept one of them from an elderly personage who has known you all so long, and has so many rea­ sons to be obliged to you.

June 1856

It has certainly struck me that People don't wear Shawls at all in such a Climate as India! Do they ever? Tell Mr. and Mrs. Charlesworth (for I can solemnly aver it) it is from no want of regard to them I do not go to see them. I really go nowhere, and yet in this instance am not so wholly unreasonable. Yours and theirs most truly E.FG. 1 "Its 2

name." Maria Charlesworth, the novelist.

To George Crabbe of Bredfield Brussels June 19, 1856 My dear Crabbe, I am bad at describing Travel: and I don't think you would care to read about so stale a Travel as ours.1 Yesterday week we got to Paris: put up at a good Inn fronting the Tuileries: wondered at the whole Palace of the Louvre, which is very wonderful; admired some of the Pictures within: drove about: walked about: dined about: and on Saturday went a journey of eight hours to Strasbourg; which is a quaint and diverting City enough. The famous Cathedral is, I think, a failure: looking not nearly so high as one hears it is: and the inside quite inferior (as are all the other Cathedrals we have seen) to half a dozen of our own in Grandeur and Solemnity. On Sunday (name it not in Gath—or Dallinghoo!)2 we travelled to Heidelberg— a very pretty old Town on a River (Neckar) whose Stream and Banks are just like the Avon between Bradford and Bath: except for rows of Pines on the Rocks, and a Castle. On Monday we railed to Frankfurt: a fine opulent City on the Rhine: slept at Mayence, also a fine, lively, garrisoned City: — and on Tuesday descended the famous Rhine: which is, I think, and as I expected, quite a failure: not a bit better in its best parts than parts of the River Dart, for instance: its colour dirty; its banks inferior in Colour, both of Rock and Tree to much in England. It is this drier Climate, I suppose, that does not clothe the Rock with many-coloured lichen and moss like ours: and the Rock itself is not varied by that metallic hue which gives so much Colour to the Rocks at Tenby and Torquay. Well—we at last got to Cologne, having a very pleasant Dinner on board by the way, and wondering at the German Appetite:

June 1856 just stopped at Cologne to see the German Cathedral—also quite inferior to ours, I thought, in Depth and Solemnity; and slept at Aix la Chapelle, where is another Cathedral one cares very little about; though it mainly consists of a barbarous Byzantine looking TempleChurch which I liked more than the Gothic Choir: and which I won­ dered what you would have to say to. Yesterday we came here, a sprightly clean City. George, and my Friend (and now, I think, his Friend) Captain Browne, are just set off on a Coach to visit—Water­ loo!—a thing I have declined for Reasons which may not be so easily understood to others; and may indeed be very unreasonable.3 Thus far about our Journey: in which I have little to notch my Memory with except the pleasure of the Company I have travelled with; and the Consciousness of the Prosperity and Happiness of other Countries beside one's own. I am convinced France is amazingly im­ proved in its Agriculture; and the only thing I cared for at all on the Rhine was the delightful little clean, spacious, cheerful Towns on its Banks, with a good-humoured, goodlooking People. It was pleasant to quit the French Face for the German: and the Prussian Soldiery at Mayence made me sigh to think of the degraded Squads that now occupy London! Only think: Dover Castle is now occupied, and (I suppose) defended by a Foreign (German) Legion, as inferior Ger­ mans as our late Recruits are inferior English! This is one reason I can't bring my mind to go to Waterloo! but Englishmen ought to go, too! We could not have got on at all without George: whose Goodhumour, Activity, and Understanding, keep us alive and going. I be­ lieve I have been the only one of the Party who has made any Bother: but my two Friends smile and "keep the Pot boiling." Little as I really love Travel, I really look with a sort of Terror now that the Hour approaches for the Dissolution of a little Partnership which probably never will unite again. To-night we are to go to Antwerp: and, after seeing that Cathedral and its great Rubens, on Friday, talk of crossing by night from Ostend to London; so as George will get home to his Diocese by Saturday night. I will let you know our further movements: which now will be to leave London behind; but I depend partly on the Cowells. Meanwhile, Believe me, Yours, now as ever, E.FG.

July 1856 1 EFG

spent two weeks on the Continent with Crabbe of Merton and W. K. Browne. 2 A small village near Woodbridge. 3 Donne reported to Fanny Kemble in July, "Edward Fitz. has been at Paris and up the Rhine (the latter for the first time). But like Dr. Smelfungus he travels from Dan to Beersheba and says 'all is naught'. Paris not improved and the Rhine a cockney affair. So he is gone into Suffolk to console himself with the river Deben and the beauties of Boulge" (Donne and Friends, p. 201). Smelfungus, the captious traveler in Laurence Sterne's Sentimental Journey through France and Italy.

To Mrs. Cowell (Fragment) [c.June 21,1856] . . . are really going away. It may seem strange to you that meeting with old Friends is almost more sad to me than meeting with new Acquaintances: but Parting is so much the worse. But I said I would not touch on this ground. But let me hear how all this is; and tell me how the Land lies with you, and I will forthwith tell you how it fares with me. I have now no sort of Engagement, except for a few days to Geldestone, and a Visit of Mr. DeSoyres here to me: he proposes either the end of this month, or the beginning of next. I have left him to suit himself. Pray do let me hear from EBC or yourself directly: and believe me, in spite of all appearances, yours ever as of old E.FG. I quite forgot all about the Music.

To Alfred Tennyson Revd. Crabbe's Bredfield, Woodbridge [July 15,1856] My dear Alfred, I looked for you at Spedding's a Fortnight ago on my return from the Continent where I saw little to care for except the Good-humoured out of Door Life of the People. It was pleasant to sit outside a Cafe till 12 P.M. The Prussians looked [to] me pleasant too after the French:

July 1856 and I think one could live very happily without "The Times" under Frederick William.11 forget if you like Rubens's "Descent"2 at Antwerp —which did not disappoint me. Yet one would rather have Titian's Ages of Man3 perhaps: or even one of his best Portraits. But I must now say—you know I proposed to you to visit you at Easter—but you had Guests. Then I proposed to myself to go down— in May, I think—when I heard you were turned out of your Home— by Paint was it? And now I shall never get down, perhaps. I have settled all my Family Affairs, I hope. But what a dry re­ mainder Biscuit is one left after the forty-eight year Voyage! I have been the last Fortnight with the Cowells who sail for India the end of the month. We read some curious Infidel and Epicurean Tetrastichs by a Persian of the 11th. Century—as savage against Destiny, etc., as Manfred—but mostly of Epicurean Pathos of this kind—"Drink—for the Moon will often come round to look for us in this Garden and find us not." I like the Drama of Maud very much—the Characters each shad­ owed into his Proportional Place like an old Play—and all leaving Something of a Bride of Lammermoor Gloom on one. I don't like the Lyrical Execution so well as I ought, I suppose: but it is doubtless an original form of Poem: with its Action, etc., altogether better to me than Princess and Memoriam—which is "one of Fitz's Crotchets"— who is yours and your Lady's nowithstanding. E.FG. I rejoice to hear you are with Merlin.4 1 Frederick

William IV (1795-1861), King of Prussia, 1840-61. Descent from the Cross." 8 Probably "The Triiunph of Time," with figures representing Infancy, Adoles­ cence, Maturity, and Old Age. 1 Tennyson had begun to write his Idylls of the King the previous winter and completed the first, "Merlin and Vivien," in March. However, the initial volume of the Idylls was not published until July, 1859. 2 "The

To E. B. Cowell [Bredfield] [July, third week, 1856J My dear Cowell, Thanks for Omar.1 I have looked over most of him since I left you. Here are Queries etc.

July 1856 2 not in my Johnson. Tetr: 68. CJj 3 — I suppose 83. so you write: I suppose for 4 is an "Interview". 5 and . 66. I only find "Temple" as a likely word for even this not very obvious. I think you construed J*— "treated it with contempt" and I suggested if it might not mean "made it pliant etc." I think that Tetrastich 89 rather confirms the latter; so that 7 also is not "kicked" but "thumped into shape" etc. 105. Does the last line refer to Mecca? 114. "Since all the World is nothing I only make o—i 8 of it," which I think you rendered something about "taking to one's Books" etc. But I may probably mistake: for I find any such meaning as that far down the list: whereas "Forgetting" does perfectly well. "The World is nothing so I make Nothing of it." One meaning is "A Song" which (though not likely Persian) would do for our "I make a Song of it—hold it for a Song" etc. But "forgetting" must be the word. 33. Why the River Jayhun? Has your Johnson —ba Jayhun nishastan—to cross the Jayhun—"to weep?" 123. (fourth line) 0-0«_L> I find in Johnson—"To rob on the Highway"—? 134. (line 3) May it not be—"Don't stop to choose between Glass and Bottle" (or some such distinction between Small and Great) —"At it at once!—and let Blood be the Consequence!" 9 "to Angle-Fish?" 138. Has your Johnson got 10 You rendered "60" 1 think; may it mean, "As you get older don't trust to uncertainty"—like Fishing etc.—or may it [be] the Archery Sense of "Don't take your finger from the Bow" etc. or "Let it not from under your Thumb," i.e., Life·, "don't neglect it," for I find "Thumb" one meaning of . I am sure it is some proverbial Expression. 147. (Last Line) I don't find rendered "flask" in 11 scan?— Johnson, as I think we accepted it; and how does as also in the first line of Tetr: 151. Well—all this I have written; but my Thoughts are often upon other Things in which you are concerned: of which I less care to speak. I am often on the Spur of getting up on a Coach to go to see you once more—but on the whole I think better not for all parties—for one, I am sure. And now you have a full Family Party. Kind remembrances to them! I shall write again. Yours ever, E.FG.

July 1856 1 The

copy of the Ouseley MS of Omar Khayyam's quatrains transcribed by Cowell and given to EFG while he was visiting his friends at Rushmere. Cowell dated the copy, now in the University of Cambridge Library, July 11, 1856. EFG left Rushmere July 14. 2 "Surprise attack." 3 "Together." 4 "Seeing" or "visit." 6 "Building." 0 Cowell was correct. 7 "Thumped." 8 "Art." 9 "To put the thumb on." 10 The word means both "sixty" and "thumb." 11

"JuS"

or

" flask·"

To Mr. and Mrs. E. B. Cowell Bredfield, Woodbridge Monday July [28], 1856 My dear Edward and Elizabeth Cowell, I think it is best for many reasons that I should not go to see you again—to say a Good-Bye that costs me so much.1 I shall very soon write to you; and hope to keep up something of Communion by such meagre Intercourse. Do you do the same to me. Farewell, Both! Ever yours, Edward FitzGerald 1 The

Cowells sailed for India August 1.

To Anna Ling [Bredfield ] [c. August 1, 1856] Dear Anna Ling, Thank you for all your, and your Husband's, Kindness. I can assure you I spent a very pleasant Day yesterday:—scarce ever spend so pleasant a one now: and wish for nothing better than to look at the delightful Corn Fields and sit and drink such good Ale in such honest Company under those good old Gables and Chimneys of 300 years

October 1856 old!—only I drank and smoked too much—so ought not to be at it again Today even if I otherwise could. But, as it is, I must stay where I am—in very good Quarters, as you know. My Time will not be very long here, and I have many things to settle in the small way—at Farlingay and elsewhere; and should only give you and your People the Trouble of sending me back as you now send for me. Crabbe really has a very bad Cold—caught the Day before Yester­ day from sitting without his Coat after a hot walk. He therefore can­ not go: and he has indeed given up going from Home. He will write himself to tell you this, and thank you. Yours ever truly Edward FitzGerald

To John Allen [ Geldestone ] [October, 1856] My dear Allen, Last Saturday Evening, before I had your Letter, I read aloud to the young Folks here your Letters to Ladies on Schools, etc. and they wished me to tell you how much they liked it. I liked it too: liked it the more for the very want of a certain Art which is now as common as Blackberries! I mean, you don't always make the best of your own Goods, as I think: which I believe is more a moral Virtue than a Liter­ ary defect. I do indeed. Any Jackanapes of us now can expose his little bit of Tinsel to such Advantage. I think you should have put in the fine Story of Arnold's Shame1 when a dull Boy remonstrated with him against a hasty Reproof. "In­ deed, Sir, I did my best—why should you be angry with me?" You have seen, I suppose, there is an Essay on Fuller publisht—by Rogers,2 I think—with a Selection of F's. sayings entitled by the very name I had proposed to give mine—"The Wit and Wisdom of Fuller." I had no communication with Longman's: and I don't suppose Parker had.3 The young Folks here too are greatly delighted always with your Psalm Book—as were the Cowells—who had given away hundreds of Copies, I believe. Those Cowells are now rolling round the Cape perhaps!

October 1856 Thank Mrs. Allen for all her sanguine Wishes—sanguiner than my Expectations!4 I often blame myself for not having gone your way before—after your so many kind Invitations. And, in spite of appear­ ances, I can safely say there is not one Man whose Company I delight in so much as your own! This is true. But I grow more to feel that we walk in different ways! You tolerated me very well: perhaps you would less do so. I am very glad Trench was not made a Bishop, and am rather sorry he is a Dean.5 I don't think we want mere Scholars for such Posts—certainly not for the first—and we did want Trench to keep in his Study and write us good Books. He is a fine Fellow. They should make you a Bishop, I always say. I had a Letter from Duncan, who seems to do pretty well in Dor­ setshire. I have /J\ 6 by this Post too. It is a capital work. I don't know if I should have admired it much if I hadn't known it was by /j\ I should not have looked into it to see what was to admire. Now I seem to see fine things: the Energy greater than the Beauty. You who have a far finer Eye than I have for Art as other things would have recognized all this without /j\ name. Your Preface is excellent, and the Quotations always fine. Yours ever E.FG. I am getting in order for London and Marriage, which last is to be at Chichester. E.FG. 1 Thomas Arnold, headmaster of Rugby. The passage occurs in his Life and Correspondence by A. P. Stanley, chap. III. 2 Henry Rogers (1806P-1877), Essay on the Life and Genius of Thomas Fuller, 1856. 3 EFG submitted his MS to Pickering, not Parker. See letter to Allen, Nov. 22, 1852. 4 EFG had written the Aliens of his approaching marriage. 5 See Trench's Biographical Profile. 6 Albrecht Diirer (1471-1528), German painter and engraver. Allen had printed a penny pamphlet, The Gospel of the Unlearned, containing 32 prints from Durer's Smaller Passion. His introduction stressed the religious significance of the prints.

October 1856

From Thomas Carlyle Chelsea 18 Octr 1856. Dear FitzGerald, I am delighted at the news! There was a faint semi-invisible hint at such a thing in your former letter, but nobody, except myself, would take it; even my Wife was blind; and Donne, to whom I cautiously insinuated such a question, the other day, pleaded ignorant,—tho', he said, there had been for years back some rumour (unfounded, at least quite uncertain, rumour) of the kind, in reference to—the very Lady who now turns out to be the veritable Fact! For the rest his character of her was at once credible and superlatively favourable. In­ deed it is difficult to fancy, if she resemble the picture of her Father (as drawn by Laurence, you, and the written documents in rhyme and otherwise) that Miss Barton can be other than an eligible Wife. You may fairly look forward to a Home in this world henceforth such as you have not had before, and might easily have missed ever to have. In all which I am the more interested as I hope to see said Home, with my own eyes, some day or other, and to have a kind of vested interest in the same for the rest of my time. I will say only, long may you live, and see and do good in the land, you and lie amiable LifePartner you are now to have. And may the gods "send never worse among us!" as our Scotch people pray. . . . Happiness be with you always, dear F. Yours sincerely T. Carlyle

To Stephen Spring Rice Geldestone Hall, Beccles [ October 21,1856] My dear Spring Rice, I am going to be married to Miss Barton—a very doubtful Experi­ ment—long talked of—not fixt beyond all Cause and Impediment till lately—and now "Vogue la Galere!"11 shut my Eyes to Consequences, and read trash in HkRz (who mostly consists of it). I won t finish the Sentence. Oh, I am very tired of writing this News to Relatives etc. I knew you would hear of it sooner or later from Spedding: but you shall hear of it from me, though

October 1856 But that sentence also shall be Tail-less. A pretty pass English Com­ position has got to. I should like a Line from you to say you and yours are well. You have been at Dungate I think—which reminds me. I owe dear Mrs. Frere £1 for her Aldbro' woman2—I owe you £10 for a Bet (about War with France)—shall I send you a Cheque for the Two (it is fine to talk of sending Cheques!)3 or give the money to Spedding should I catch him in London, where I must be for two or three days on the road to Well—I will finish one Sentence—that I am ever yours very truly E.FG. and don't forget me to the Wife. 1 To Crabbe of Merton EFG said, "George, I am going to be married—don't congratulate me." Crabbe recorded, "I shall never forget his miserable tones" (Trinity College MS). 2 A pensioner. 3 A privilege that had been curtailed during the period between his father's bankruptcy in 1849 and the settlement of his mother's estate.

To George Borrow 31 Great Portland Street, London 27th October 1856 My dear Sir, It is 1 who send you the new Turkish Dictionary Redhouse's Turkish and English Dictionary which ought to go by this Post; my reasons being that I bought it really only for the purpose of doing that little good to the spirited Publisher1 of the book (who thought when he began it that the [Crimean] War was to last), and I send it to you because I should be glad of your opinion, if you can give it. I am afraid that you will hardly condescend to use it, for you abide in the old Meninsky;2 but if you will use it, I shall be very glad. I don't think I ever shall; and so what is to be done with it now it is bought? I don't know what Kerrich told you of my being too lazy to go over to Yarmouth to see you a year ago. No such thing as that. I simply had doubts as to whether you would not rather remain unlookt for. I know I enjoyed my evening with you a month ago. I wanted to ask you to read some of the Northern Ballads3 too; but you shut the book. I must tell you. I am come up here on my way to Chichester to be married! to Miss Barton (of Quaker memory) and our united ages

November 1856 amount to 96! — a dangerous experiment on both sides. She at least brings a fine head and heart to the bargain — worthy of a better market. But it is to be, and I dare say you will honestly wish we may do well. Keep the book as long as you will. It is useless to me. I shall be to be heard of through Geldeston Hall, Beccles. With compliments to Mrs. Borrow, believe me, Yours truly, Edward FitzGerald P.S. — Donne is well, and wants to know about you. 1 Bernard

Quaritch had published the dictionary, the work of J. W. Redhouse. Turco, Arabo, e Persiano, by Franciscus Meninsky (2 vols., Milan,

2 Dizionario

1832-34). 3 Probably Borrow's Romantic Ballads, translated from the Danish, 1826.

To Anna Ling Brighton Nov. 11/56 My dear Anna Ling, Your very kind Letter followed me here. I was so tired of writing the same thing about my Marriage to many people, that I knew you would excuse me if I wrote to your Mother for one and all of your Family, who have ever been so kind to me, and who I know wish me well as much as anvj Persons alive. Yes—this thing—long thought of, and often on the point of f a l l i n g over—is at last done for better or worse. This day week we were mar­ ried at Chichester.2 I shall be but a short time here: and do not quite know whither I shall turn after: for one scarce knows one's footing yet. As yet I have fix't on no place of Abode. I am very sure my Wife will have—already has—very great regard for you and yours—and will be very glad to pay you a Visit whenever she gets to Suffolk— when will that be! I sometimes think of Norfolk to live in where my Nieces are. But at present we must wait. Give my Love to Alfred.2 As he would have a Farm I am very glad he has got one so near to you all. I suppose I shall hear of his marriage before long, and he is young enough to be congratulated upon such an occasion. God bless you and yours! E.FG.

November 1856 1

Lucy had relatives in Chichester, and the marriage took place at All Saints' Church November 4. EFG's deportment that day was ill-suited to the occasion. According to members of the Barton family, he wore "everyday apparel" and "looked like a victim being led to his doom." At the breakfast, it is said, he spoke only once. When offered blancmange, "he waved it away with a gesture of disgust, muttering as he did so, 'Ugh! congealed bridesmaid' " (New Letters, pp. 173-74). For accounts of his engagement and marriage, see Biographical Profile of Lucy Barton and Terhune's Life, chap. XVI. 2 Her brother, Alfred Smith, who had taken a farm at Ashbocking.

To George Crabbe (Fragment) [Woodbridge ] [November, 1856] . . . Did you read Miss MartineauV Letter to the Norwich Mercury about her Industrial School? It was quoted, with an excellent Introduc­ tion by Mrs. Austen, in the Athenaeum. I directly remembered what you told me of the Mothers' taking away their girls from your Merton School because "Croche" wasn't taught there. The people hereabout give up Dairy work because no Young Ladies will meddle with it. Mrs. Berry was a fortnight before she could find a Girl to help her here: she now has one who has this strong recommendation: that she can neither read nor write. I believe Barlow's Mortgage2 is to be settled on January 8. I wrote him to propose two years as the Limit. He no doubt thinks me an ungentlemanly Brute now: it is all his own Fault. I have seen him but once—in Woodbridge Street. His last Note was of course written "in great haste" but soon to "write further" which of course is not done. 1 Miss F. Martineau, of Bracondale, near Norwich, who in 1856 turned two small adjoining houses she owned in Norwich into an industrial school for girls, supporting it liberally. Sarah Austen was so impressed with the school that she wrote letters to the Athenaeum (Nov. 22, 1856, p. 1434, and Jan. 24, 1857, p. 117) about it, later in 1857 publishing them as Two Letters on Girls' Schools, and on the Training of Working Women (copy in the British Museum). 2 See letter to George Crabbe, May, 1851.

January 1857

To George Crabbe of Merton 31 Gt. Portland St. Jan. 1, 1857 My dear George, A good New Year to you! Here I am, and have been for the last Fortnight, alone: my Wife having gone to Mr. Gurney's1 and after­ wards to Geldestone: and I remaining here partly to see through that mortgage with W. Browne which you remember my telling you about. There has been plenty of Bother, but I suppose it will be done, like some other things, for Better or Worse. I am still in a total Quandary about a Place of Abode. My Wife has been asking about Norwich, where she hears of nothing except a Furnisht House in The Close, and an Unfurnisht on the Thorpe Road. So if we be in East Anglia now, I think we shall have to go to Lowes­ toft for a time. I want my Wife to learn all she can of Housekeeping, and employ herself in it: I think she is given to Profusion, and her Hand is out of practice, of course. I shall be down at Geldestone myself in a few days, and then settle where to go for a time. It is not Inclination that keeps me unsettled: but the not seeing my way at all clear; a matter in which I may per­ haps know some more reason than you or others who would otherwise be far more competent to judge of any such matter than I am. I have scarce seen any one here: but put my Eyes quite out over a silly Persian Manuscript by Day, and look into the Pit of a Theatre for an Hour at night when I can see no longer. What a waste of Life—if my Life ever could be worth living. I am rather weary of it. Give my land Remembrances to Barlow2 and his Lady. Tell him I will gladly accept the Arm-chair he promises me; but let it not be a luxurious or ornamental one, but a plain Oak Chair: for I like, and will have, all of the plainest in my House. Goodbye, my dear George; get well, and help me with your good Counsel. I shall go and see you (probably solus however) for a day or two ere long, I hope; and, if we be at Lowestoft or elsewhere near you, come to us at any time and for any length of Time. Yours E.FG. P.S. "The Bloody Warrior"3 says you and I and he are to go to Dresden this Year together. I should like it: but we must see—we must see.

January 1857 1 Hudson

Gurney. See letter to Allen, Aug. 15, 1849, n.l. Barlow, of The Shrubbery, Hasketon. 3 W. K. Browne, who had served in Ireland with the Bedfordshire militia, first as a lieutenant, later as a captain, during the period of the Crimean War. 2 Frederick

William Bodham Donne to Fanny Kemble (Fragment) Jan. 20, 1857

. . . Edward FitzGerald has taken rooms at 24 Portland Terrace1 for three months, much to my delight, for he is within reach, much to his own discomfiture, for the rooms it seems are dark and dismal, looking forward on the wild beasts,2 looking backward on a cemetery. The paper of his sitting-room is a dark, indeed an invisible green, the windows are narrow, and he says that "his contemporary"—which, being interpreted, means his wife! looks in this chamber of horrors like Lucrezia Borgia. Most extraordinary of Benedicks is our friend. He talks like Bluebeard. Speaks "O' leaping o'er the line": really dis­ tresses even Spedding's well-regulated mind. I have however so much confidence in him that I believe all this irony with a rooted regard for Lucy, and so much confidence in Lucy as to believe she'll tame Petruchio, swagger as he list.3 1 In

lodgings kept by Marietta Nursey, daughter of Perry Nursey, EFG's artist friend of Great Bealings who died in 1840. 2 The zoo in Regent's Park. 3 Donne and Friends, p. 217.

To E. B. Cowell

31 Gt. Portland St. London Jan. 22/57 2

My dearest Cowell,

As usual I blunder. I have been taking for granted all this while that of course we could not write to you till you had written to us! Else how several times I could have written! Could have sent you some

January 1857 Lines of Hafiz or Jami or Nizami that I thought wanted Comment of some kind—so as the Atlantic should have been no greater Bar be­ tween us than the two hours Rail to Oxford. And now I have forgot many things, or have left the Books scattered in divers places; or, if I had all here, 'twould be too much to send. So I must e'en take up with what the present Hour turns up. It was only yesterday I heard from your Brother of a Letter from you, telling of your safe Arrival;3 of the Dark Faces about you at your Calcutta Caravanserai! Methinks how I should like to be there! Per­ haps should not, though, were the Journey only half its length! Write to me one day. You have been told of my Marriage! I said nothing of it to anybody till within a Month of the time: until which Time indeed it was hardly certain, long proposed as it had been; and, had Good Sense and Experience prevailed instead of Blind Regard on one side it never would have been completed! You know my opinion of a "Man of Taste" — never so dangerous as when tied down to daily Life Companionhood—and with one very differently complexioned and educated, and who might have been far far happier and usefuller untied to me. She wants a large Field to work on, and to bestow her Labour on a Field that will answer to Tillage—and I have only a little Garden of Tastes and Ideals, and a Heart very dead to better Regards! But enough of it. I believe before long I shall offer a Field for some sort of Labour, if not the best; for I am not well, and shall, I really believe, very soon be laid by (if not dead) and then I shall put all my Taste into the Fire, I suppose; and my Wife will be rejoiced at last to be a Slave with a Master who can at last thank her for her Pains. Had I told others of this Marriage, I think you two are almost the last I should have told, for fear of utterly breaking down. I am sure of your good wishes—you two—who from your own Experience will only augur well for me. I have now been five weeks alone at my old Lodgings in London where you came this time last Year! My wife in Norfolk. She came up Yesterday; and we have taken Lodgings for two months in the Regent's Park. And I positively stay behind here in the old Place on purpose to write to you in the same condition you knew me in and I you! I believe there are new Channels fretted in my Cheeks with many un­ manly Tears since then, "remembering the Days that are no more," in which you two are so mixt up. Well, well—I have no news to tell you. Public Matters you know I don't meddle with; and I have seen scarce any Friends even while in London here. Carlyle but once; Thackeray not once; Spedding and Donne pretty often. Spedding's first volume of

January 1857 Bacon is out;4 some seven hundred pages; and the Reviews already begin to think it is over-commentaried. How interested would you be in it! and from you I should get a good Judgment, which perhaps I can't make for myself. I hear Tennyson goes on with King Arthur, but I have not seen or heard from him for a long long while. Oddly enough, as I finished the last sentence, Thackeray was an­ nounced; he came in looking gray, grand, and good-humoured; and I held up this Letter and told him whom it was written to and he sends his Love! He goes Lecturing all over England—has fifty pounds for each Lecture: and says he is ashamed of the Fortune he is making. But he deserves it. And now for my poor Studies. I have read really very little except Persian since you went: and yet, from want of Eyes,5 not very much of that. I have gone carefully over two-thirds of Hdfiz again with Dictionary and Von Hammer: and gone on with Jdmi and Nizami. But my great Performance all lies in the last five weeks since I have been alone here; when I wrote to Napoleon Newtone to ask him to lend me his MS. of Attar's Mantic uttair; and, with the help of G. de Tassy have nearly made out about two-thirds of it. For it has greatly interested me, though I confess it is always an old Story. The Germans make a Fuss about the Sufi Doctrine; but, as far as I understand, it is not very abstruse Pantheism, and always the same. One becomes as wearied of the ^—•* and ISJ· in their Philosophy as of the -44 as is also one about the loss of Youth: 227 though I can't make out what the name of the Bird of Joy in Line 3 is. What a pretty word is for "Alas!" The Persian is certainly a very beautiful Language so far as Words go, but its Grammar is sadly defective. 40 is a good one of its sort. Quatrain 229 Thursday, July 2. Walter's Wedding Day! A Flag up on the House-top, and we all in our Gayest Clothes, and the "- \Jf 47 ransackt to adorn Coat and Bodice; and I have no great time to look into Omar. Yet Quatrain 232 w is very pretty, and a Good Lesson for a young Couple, if I construe aright. I can't make out the words of the second Line, however, which are written ι otitis Oy JI» 49 though I guess at the meaning.

June 1857 50 is again at the Sufis, with Q :242 their .^> .51 And now I may as well shut up Shop, and have this long Letter ready for tomorrow. I am sure it has now been freighted with enough of illegible matter: you must not trouble yourself to an­ swer nor even to read it unless you like. I hear this morning that Mr. Crabbe is decidedly better, and I am to see George Crabbe here tomorrow. The Day after, I return to Gorlestone with two Nieces, and shall, I dare say, be there or thereabout all this Year. I wrote to your Brother Charles yesterday to ask how the Party at Rushmere are. This time year we were all there!—you and I looking over that first Instalment of Omar! Once more, I can't suppose but the Calcutta Quatrains are in the main by the same hand. And so with Love to the dear Wife Ever yours, E.FG. 1 Probably

Dr. Henry Beck, of Needham Market. Kawus." 3 "A drink of wine is better than the kingdom of Kawus." 4 "From." = "Wine." 6 "Hypocrisy" or "deceit." 7 "Owner [implying Creator] . . . completed." 8 "The composition of the cup." 8 "Came." 10 "Be." 11 "Shapes." 12 "If it is, but then what are these mysterious shapes." 13 "Purple." 14 "Under the green." 15 "Verb" or "work." 16 "Like flower." 17 "Kaikobad." 18 "Blind." 19 "In the feast of wisdom." 20 "To the right." 21 "I am a sinful man." 22 "I am heart-broken at being away from you." 23 Mental or physical state. 24 "Mol," a spirituous liquor. 25 "The sun threw the sling of the morn to the heaven." 26 "Kaikhosru of the day." Kaikhosrii, name of a Persian king. 27 "Bead." 28 "It cries throughout the days, 'Drink.'" 29 "At dawn the morning cock." 30 "On the water and in the green, oh charming candle." 31 "My heart was not often deprived of love." 32 "In the beginning they set me on fire." 2 "Kaikobad

June 1857 33 "Invisible

world." the sun rises yellow." 35 "Cash is better than a thousand credits." 36 "They say that discussion is a search." 37 "Friend." 88 Walter Kerrich, Captain, Cameronians, married Olivia Scott-Hanson on July 2. 39 "Those who are known for hate." 40 "Happy is the one who is not known." 41 "Woolen cloth." The name is derived from the Arabic word meaning wool. 42 "If you throw wine to the mountain, it dances." 43 "There was wine in the gathering of Life," or "of Omar." 44 "Be happy that the new moon is coming." 45 "Alas that this scroll of youth has passed." 46 "Some have fallen into arrogance by mere thought." 47 "Garden." 48 "Whoever has half a loaf of bread in the world." 49 "Or has a nest according to his station." 50 "The tavern is always better than the prison," 51 "Woolen cloth." The Sufis were ascetic mystics who adopted heterodox pantheistic beliefs. 34 "When

To George Borrow [Goriestone] Wednesday [June 24,1857] Dear Borrow, My wife writes to yours. Let me say to you, that as I have declined two or three little Invitations from some of our near Neighbours here, I cannot go with any face to your House on such Invitation, can I? If one happens to drop in at tea, or Grog, time—all very well. I shall hope to give you a look before you go; perhaps bringing a gay little Niece who is just now brightening my Life. Will you have poor old Omar to travel with?1 I find the Calcutta MS . abounding with as good things as what you saw; as good, not better, and too much to the same tune. But for all that, he is the best Persian I have seen. "You, oh God, who gave me such a turn for drinking—may it be, you were drunk, when you created me!" says he. Yet here is a more pious one, tersely expressed. Alas, that life is gone in vain! My every mouthful is unlawful, every breath is tainted; Commands not fulfilled have disgraced me; And alas for my unlawful deeds!2

July 1857 Written in pencil because of a vile pen, and so Adieu. E. FitzGerald. I hear from dear old Donne, who is got with satisfaction to his new house—rejoiced to leave London and its Libraries. 1 The transcript of the Ouseley MS at the Bodleian Library. Bonow was pre­ paring for a walking tour in Wales. 2 Translated in the Letters and Literary Remains from a passage in Persian characters. The original MS has not been found.

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone July 3-14, [1857] I begin another Letter with Omar as soon as I have despatcht one: and I will begin this as I ended the last—with a warning that you are not to read more than you have time and mind for. So now to take up the where I dropt it. Quatrain 236. I can scarce make out the first line your Scribe making I jJ ! very much alike. The second word is not LP .4 But the two last lines are good, and, if applied to the Deity, as good Piety as you could desire. Q. 248. ' 5 In the second line you see the Ouseley copy is 6—which is, I have no doubt, corrected to right. Q. 250 is, in my copy, repeated in Q. 254. jUij J if} 7 As there are slips in my MS., not only of words, but in the repetition of Quatrains, etc., the numbers I give may not correspond precisely with yours, but I suppose cannot be far asunder. Q. 257 ^ Ij J1 » is also almost a repetition of Q. 262. Gorlestone, July 8. Got back you see, and must continue my Letter with Blue Ink on a crumpled sheet. First then, that foolish Garcin de Tassy, in spite of my begging him not to mention you or me in any Paper he might write about Omar, has mentioned both—and quite inaccurately. He has however been good enough to send me the Proof of his little Article, which I have sent back again begging him to cut us

July 1857 out. He only thinks I decline from Modesty, and am really ambitious of the honour. I will enclose you, if I can, the Quatrains he gives for Specimens; which of course are not the best. And now to go on with the Calcutta Omar. Quatrain 2 6 9 is it a "rifacimento" of 270? —282. has again Hafiz Kings; but I can't yet construe it. 1 — 2 8 8 . Nor can I yet understand this.

.

9

10

1

—289. There is a passage like this at the end of the Mantic. And by the bye Garcin de Tassy wonders why his Edition is not out, he having revised all six weeks ago. —290. Is this upon the Death of some Shah? I t i s a peculiar one. 12 —291. "Oh God, forgive when I repent, and I will forgive if thou repentest!" 13 —297. _ is a good "pendant" to t h a t 1 4 one. —301 and 302 are very pretty. ar.^ 15

—303 has Arabic which, like the Kings, we had not in Ouselev, as also is the 1 7 case in 310. ' 18 —306 reminds one of those Verses in Salaman. 19 —312. _ is a very funny one. "Thou, Providence, art less than a Tailor!" is it? 20 in line 3. But I don't understand the 21 —321. is almost identical with 323. 2 2 — 3 2 5 . is only an improved version of 322. —329 is the same again as 332. —340. Chess again! with a pun, I suppose, on . But I thought 23 the _ and,. at Chess were the same pieces? 16

2 4 — 3 3 8 . is the same as 375. Both corrupt? 25 —388. repetition of 354. 26 —389. repeats 345: the third line of both of which is repeated with an (to m e ) 286

July 1857 unintelligible variation in 346. Does it mean "Its Vexation has been my Companion since I was born?" —412. In spite of Omar's AntiSufyism, he prays their old Prayer about GoodandEvil f-O jiyjii127 And now I am going to point out three very good ones. 28 -423. 29 -430. 80 —441. where I suppose he asks, "Why pray for the Moon of Ramazan to go, when your only looking up makes her wane," etc. One thing more before I shut up for this Saturday, July 11. I had 31 in Omar; but wondered we never found anything about now I do find something (but exactly what [in the last line] I have not yet discovered) in Quatrain That last line almost sounds like some Cry at the Game. And now to close other Accounts for this week. I have been hearing terrible accounts of Mr. Crabbe—fit after fit—the Doctors of course doubting whether Head or Heart—though the confusion of Thought has proved it was Head. But he is (I hear from George this morning) better, so to speak, and has so much Strength about him that some think he may live for Years. It was only Yesterday I was saying, How much better to die—than live "in the Afflction of these terrible 'Fits' that haunt us nightly"—and Daily! For another very small matter:—I have a very polite note from G. de Tassy, who quite yields to my Request, and has wiped out both our names from his Omar Article. Which I am sure you will approve of. While I think of it, let me say I have had your Note of May 15 with the explanation of JJ 33 in it. I say nothing about these Indian Army Revolts, because I know nothing. The Daily News reported Calcutta in a State of Siege. You will believe I think of you and her. Meantime, as I can neither do nor say anything of service in the matter, I will go on with my first Survey of Omar—which will come to an end, I suppose, in this Letter which I shall despatch by the Marseilles Mail on the 25th. Monday, July 13. This day year was the last I spent with you at Rushmere! We dined in the Evening at your Uncle's in Ipswich, walk­ ing home at night together. The night before (yesterday year) you all went to Mr. Maul's34 Church, and I was so sorry afterward I had not

July 1857 gone with you too—for the last time, as your Wife said. One of my manifold stupidities, all avenged in a Lump now! I think I shall close this letter tomorrow: which will be the Anniversary of my departure from Rushmere. I went from you, you know, to old Crabbe's. Is he too to be wiped away by a yet more irrecoverable exile than India? By tomorrow I shall have finisht my first Physiognomy of Omar, whom I decidedly prefer to any Persian I have yet seen, unless perhaps SaMman. 464. 35 The third and fourth lines are queer; I find in Johnson that _>=*· means "The Eye of an Axe's Head' which ·"•-·> oddly doubles. I put this in because the word may not be in your Johnson and because it hooks on with what you wrote to me about from Hatifi: per­ haps is not the word a meaning in the Text! Not worth much considera­ tion, if it be. t 481. (_y> 36 has a very daring reading of the last line; "Deuce take me! perhaps you were drunk when you made me a Drunk­ ard!" etc. I think this must be right. 494. 37 Here we have our "Four and Seven" Elements and Climates of Salaman! I rather want the second line to fall in with a sort of Pun on the 38 "Vain, words one finds in Johnson: who gives also windy, Talk," etc. which would suit Omar very well. But the text stands >j ClOua and not , "you." 3 "r,d,a." 4 "You." 5 "I am not that man." 6 "That fear is more pleasant to me than this fear." 7 "Those who are in these tombs have become earth and dust." 8 "Oh Friend, why do you grieve for what is going to be?" 9 "Assume that the whole world is yours." 10 "Oh learned man [?] get up." Part of transcription illegible. 11 "Oh victorious upon the head of the king of the world." 12 "Thou who know the hidden thoughts in men's minds." 13 "It is a cup that wisdom admires." 14 "The consistency of the cup." 2

July 1857 15 "Headily

drunk toward the winehouse" and "The days of youth departed." the one be happy who acknowledges the wine." 17 "The soul which is clear of earthly contamination." 18 "Many garments of life." 19 "Oh Wheel of Heaven, you do not recognize either the bread or the salt," i.e., Heaven is indifferent. EFG transcribes the first line of the quatrain which is actually 313, not 312. His translation, "Thou Providence," etc. is incorrect. He reads "tailor" for "spinner." The quatrain concludes: 16 "May

From a [woman's] spinning wheel two persons may be clad Oh thou Wheel of Heaven—the woman's spinning wheel is superior. 2°

"Two." Lord's wishes were not my wishes." Faulty transcription, one word missing. 22 "From the Lord, the Creator and Forgiver." Imperfect transcription. 23 "Rook" and "elephant." (Elephant, the bishop in modern chess). 24 "Oh Wheel of Heaven, we are not satisfied with the way you turn." 25 "Until we have given our hands in consent." 28 "Alas that we aged in vain." 27 "Oh, Lord, free me of acceptance and rejection." 28 "Oh, Thou, who hast the water of life concealed in thy lips." 29 "Alas, that life passed by fruitlessly." 80 "Oh, dear, on which side have you got up [this morning]?" si "Polo." 32 "Oh you who are driven like a ball by the mallet of fate." 33 "Language for the occasion;" metaphorically, "understanding without words." 34 The Reverend S. W. Maul, Vicar of St. Mary's Church, Bramford. 35 "Oh Saki, my soul is agonized by sorrow." 36 "My Lord, you broke my wine jug." 37 "Oh, you, who are the result of four and seven." 38 "Four and seven." 39 "Seven and four" and not "four and seven." 40 "Open the door for me; Thou art the opener of doors." 41 "From the coming of spring and the departure of winter." 42 "Spring." 43 "Today." 44 "In the morning, oh sweetheart of good fortune." 21 "The

To George Borrow Albert House, Gorleston July 6,1857

Dear Borrow, Will you send me r V-^·*-c. 1 by bearer? I only want a look at him, for that Frenchman2 has been misquoting him in a way that will make

July 1857 Ε. Cowell answerable for another's blunder, which must not be. You shall have Omar back directly, or whenever you want him, and I should really like to make you a copy (taking my time) of the best Quatrains. I am now looking over the Calcutta MS. which has 500!— very many quite as good as those in the MS. you have; but very many in both MSS. are well omitted. I have been for a fortnight at Geldestone where Kerrich is not very well. I shall look for you one day in my Yarmouth rounds, and you know how entirely disengaged and glad to see you I am here. I have two fresh Nieces with me—and I find I gave you the worst wine of two samples Diver sent me. I wish you would send word by bearer you are better—this one word written will be enough, you see. My old Parson Crabbe is bowing down under epileptic fits, or some­ thing like, and I believe his brave old white head will soon sink into the village Church-sward. Why, our time seems coming. Make way, Gentlemen! Yours very truly, Edward FitzGerald 1 "Omar 2 Garcin

KhayyAm." de Tassy.

To Alfred Tennyson Gorlestone: Great Yarmouth Pmk., July 18,1857 My dear old Alfred, Please direct the enclosed to Frederic. I wrote him some months ago getting Parker1 to direct; but have had no reply. You won't write to me, at which I can't wonder. I keep hoping for King Arthur—or part of Him. I have got here to the Seaside—a dirty Dutch-looking Sea, with a dusty Country in the Rear; but the place is not amiss for one's Yellow Leaf. I keep on reading foolish Persian too: chiefly because of its con­ necting me with the Cowells—now besieged in Calcutta!2 But also I have really got hold of an old Epicurean so desperately impious in his recommendations to live only for Today that the good Mahometans have scarce dared to multiply MSS of him. He writes in little Quatrains, and has scarce any of the iteration and conceits to which his People are given. One of the last things I remember of him is that—"God gave me this turn for Drink, perhaps God was drunk when he made me"—

July 1857 which is not strictly pious. But he is very tender about his Roses and Wine, and making the most of this poor little Life. For ; , I ^S-JuLL AUwhichis very poor stuff, you will say. Please to remem­ ber me to the Lady; I don't know when I shall ever see you again; and yet you can't think how often I wish to do so, and never forget you, and never shall, my dear old Alfred, in spite of Epicurus. But I don't grow merrier. Yours ever E.FG. 1 John

W. Parker, who had published Frederick's Days and Hours in 1854. Cowells had reached India November 29, two months before the first in­ surrections in the Sepoy Rebellion. "Calcutta has been very quiet but very un­ easyCowell wrote in June. He bought two pistols and later was issued a musket. Native troops in the city were disarmed June 14 and no revolt occurred there. Cowell's letters provide an intimate account of events in Calcutta during the summer (Cowell biography, pp. 136-41). 3 "Perhaps today will not reach tomorrow." 2 The

To Ε. B. CoweU [Gorlestone] and Geldestone [Late July], August 6,8, [1857] My dear Cowell, I begin a Letter on a smaller Scale because I know not if I can fill up a larger by the fourth of next month when a Mail goes. And I will both thank you for your Last (written in June and reaching me here three days ago) which was written in the midst of all your Troubles,1 and for which therefore I doubly thank you. I don't see a daily Paper, but of course hear News sooner or later: could I alter what is and must be, I would read all soon enough! For the same reason I make no comments on all that is passing. I must think however that I am wise, and as useful in the matter as all the diplomatists who neglected the warnings given them. When I was walking in London with W. Browne last April he told me of one Regiment having been disbanded—the first that revolted—and he then said, "I think this is the most serious News we have heard, and I am sure it won't stop here." Another reason (to jump to small things) of my diminisht sheet of Paper is, that I am this very Evening going to walk hence to Lowestoft; and thence tomorrow by the Old Blue Coach to Saxmundham: just to have a look at my old Coun­ try. I dare not go farther on the road, for I must not go to Bredfield,

July 1857 where dear old Crabbe lies—not having had any more fits for ten days and (as is thought) rather mending of those he had; but left very shattered by all he has gone through. Yet I see his Daily News is underscored with some of his vehement lines of Remark. I shall carry this half Sheet on my short travel with me, and finish it on the road, unless indeed [I am] back in good time to finish it here. While I am away, my wife's former Pupil, Miss Abercrombie, comes to stay with her. I suppose I told you this young Lady's Aunt, the learned Miss Gurney, was dead. Did my last letter tell you that I had begun to go over Omar again? I am so well interested in him I can't let him go yet. I still however stick at some of the Quatrains; and am somewhat comforted by your telling me the MS is somewhat of a scrawl. I observe how the errors and omis­ sions come in batches; when the humour of the Transcriber was not so apt to his work, I suppose. There is some amusement in these Difficul­ ties as well as in Omar's own. I shall not yet send you my Difficulties till I see if further Survey will clear them up. Meanwhile Quatrain 103 has some curious Revelation: and 104 3

is a very curious Transposition of 48 i

I am sure you will be pleased with 113 - -The Thought common, and the third line weak in its end; but the ^ast line [torn away] well: —Then if Omar didn't write 11[8] who did?

j

7

Geldestone Hall: August 6 I have been out as proposed, walking by myself to Saxmundham, Aldboro', and Orford: places which your Lady well knows, and which (for some reason) I revisited with a peculiar sad Curiosity this year. At Saxmundham I met with old Mitford8 and sat with him two or three Evenings in his Classical Library. And I was within eight miles of my poor dear old Crabbe, and the very Milestones seemed courting me to go on to him: but I dared not, for he won't be seen when ill; and such excitement would be evil for him even if he desired it; so I looked long at old Wickham Spire smouldering in the Western Sun, and turned my back on it! It seems now that Crabbe is partly paralyzed: and gets

July 1857 weaker and weaker: so says a note from poor Miss Crabbe this very morning. I repeat that I should be glad to hear my old Friend was dead. Well: my Walk terminated in this place,9 where I have been some days. I have not had old Omar here, so cannot contrive my re­ marks and Enquiries concerning him: but I shall resume him when I get back to Gorlestone. I see how a very pretty Eclogue might be tesselated out of his scattered Quatrains: but you would not like the Moral of it. Alas! Furthermore, your letter of June 17 is come this morning to hand; and I will finish this half sheet as I may so as to send off by the Indian mail on the Tenth—which my Nieces tell me of. They are writing to their Brother Edmund who is with his Regiment at Bombay. It is very kind of you to write to me in the midst of all your Troubles: which you bear with a brave heart indeed. I can say nothing of all these Affairs of which I know so little. Only that wiser men seem to have been nearly as useless and ignorant as myself. I must go back quietly to old Omar, whom in the main I do comprehend. I take the same interest in him as in Salaman. Thank you too for getting me honour with the Latter. I think I should like that printed Mesnavi, 30s—though I scarce know if I shall be able to read more of such Books. I [think] I told you in my last how I had got De Tassy's Mantic: which however I lent immediately to George Borrow to carry with him into Wales. I shall write to see if I can buy a Copy for you; and then shall I send it? This I had intended doing, but paused till the weather should clear (if ever it is to clear!) in India. Harvest, by the bye, is going on all about here, and we have had a Summer of remarkable Heat and Drought; but only yesterday came on Rain with a Full Moon, as it did at the beginning of Harvest last year and spoiled so much. August 8. This is the last Day, my Nieces tell me, that a Letter for the next Mail can safely be deferred to: so I shall finish this poor half sheet and despatch it as far as Beccles on its way to India! We now read that the Persians are hedging off from the Treaty of Herat,10 seeing our hands full of India. My wife yesterday sent me a dear Letter of your Wife's. The Thunder will reach our own Shores one day—before Long, I believe: but I don't know if you will be able to read this Persian, or the English of my Letter either; but what is written shall go notwithstanding. Good Bye; you and the dear Woman, Good Bye: and let us hope for Better Times—for [your] Sake if not for mine. Ever yours, E.FG.

August 1857 1 TTie

Sepoy Rebellion. See letter to Tennyson, July 18, n.2. call me sinner." s "The earth which is under the feet of any animal." I "It is the brick on the top of that Palace." 6 "Khayyam, your body resembles a tent." 6 "This tent will be struck when the king rises to depart." 7 "I am the sinful slave, where is your forgiveness?" 8 John Mitford, former editor of the Gentleman's Magazine. 8 EFG's walk measures about 70 miles. 10 Herat, in Afghanistan near the Persian border, had been occupied by the Persians in July, 1856; and Britain, believing the city to be "the Gate to India," had declared war. In the treaty of peace, ratified May 2, Persia had agreed to evacuate the occupied territory "within three months" (Annual Register, 1859, "History," p. 235). II "Perhaps I shall not be living tomorrow." 2 "They

To Mrs. Charles Allen Geldestone HaU, Beccles August 15157 My dear Mrs. Allen, One should be very much gratified at being remembered so long with any kindness: and how much more gratified with so kind Remem­ brances as yours! I may safely say that I too remember you and my Freestone days of five and twenty years ago with a particular regard; I have been telling my Nieces at the Breakfast Table this morning, after I read your letter, how I remembered you sitting in the "Schoolroom"— too much sheltered with Trees—with a large Watch open before you —your Sister too, with her light hair and China-rose Complexion—too delicate!—your Father, your Mother, your Brother—of whom (your Brother) I caught a glimpse in London two years ago. And all the Place at Freestone—I can walk about it as I lie awake here, and see the very yellow flowers in the fields, and hear that distant sound of explosion in some distant Quarry. The coast at Bosherston one could never forget once seen, even if it had no domestic kindness to frame its Memory in. I might have profited more of those good Days than I did; but it is not my Talent to take the Tide at its flow; and so all goes to worse than waste! But it is ungracious to talk of oneself—except so far as shall answer some points you touch on. It would in many respects be very delightful to me to walk again with you over those old Places; in other respects

August 1857 sad:—but the pleasure would have the upper hand if one had not again to leave it all and plunge back again. I dare not go to Wales now. I owe to Tenby the chance acquaintance of another Person who now from that hour remains to me one of my very best Friends. A Lad— then just 16—whom I met on board the Packet from Bristol: and next morning at the Boarding House—apt then to appear with a little chalk on the edge of his Cheek from a touch of the Billiard Table Cue—and now a man of 40—Farmer, Magistrate, MiKtia OfiBcer—Father of a Family—of more use in a week than I in my Life long. You too have six sons, your Letter tells me. They may do worse than do as well as he I have spoken of, though he too has sown some wild oats, and paid for doing so. My family consists of some eight Nieces here, whom I have seen, all of them, from their Birth upwards—perfectly good, simple, and wellbred, women and girls; varying in disposition but all agreed among themselves and to do what they can in a small Sphere. They go about in the Village here with some consolation both for Body and Mind for the Poor, and have no desire for the Opera, nor for the Fine Folks and fine Dresses there. There is however some melancholy in the Blood of some of them—but none that mars any happiness but their own: and that but so slightly as one should expect when there was no Fault, and no Remorse, to embitter it! You will perhaps be as well entertained with this poor familiar news as any I could tell you. As to public matters, I scarcely meddle with them, and don't know what to think of India except that it is very ter­ rible. I always think a Nation with great Estates is like a Man with them:—more trouble than Profit: I would only have a Competence for my Country as for myself. Two of my very dearest Friends went but last year to Calcutta:—he as Professor at the Presidency College there: and now he has to shoulder a musket, I believe, as well as deliver a Lecture. You and yours are safe at home, I am glad to think. Please to remember me to all whom I have shaken hands with, and make my kind Regards to those of your Party I have not yet seen. I am sure all would be as kind to me as others who bear the name of Allen have been. Once more—thank you thank you for your kindness; and believe me yours as ever very truly, Edwd FitzGerald

August 1857

To Ε. Β. Cowell Gorlestone Gt. Yarmouth Aug. 22/57 My dear Cowell, I shall send you but a few lines this Post—writing mainly to say that Williams and Norgate have, by my direction, sent you a Copy of De Tassy's "Mantic,"1 wh|ch I am sure you will be glad to have, if indeed you have peace and leisure to allow you the enjoyment of any Book. I am only just returned here after a solitary Ramble about the Coast, which I think I told you of in my last Letter. I took the Calcutta Omar with me, and have looked through it a second time, clearing away some DifiBculties which had puzzled me on first Reading, but also leaving many others, which perhaps a third or fourth Reading may dissipate: so as I won't confide them now to you. But poor Omar has fared ill with his Transcribers: I suppose his Impiety makes him fair Game for any carelessness, or even for wilful Alteration. The Repetitions of many of the Quatrains are with Variations, which show how undecided was the Text. Just look at 269, 270 "v.v— and look also at 345,389 3 of both of which the third line (which I can't make out) occurs also in 346. Quatrains 342,370 supply each other;

1 5 427 jr^· ρ^ brings us to our old game which I had not remembered to have yet seen in Omar: but I can't quite construe him here—Something to the effect, I suppose, of "Whither Destiny strikes the Ball must go—no use Grumbling: for he who strikes as he runs

which sounds rather awful though I am not sure of scanning or meaning—"He knows what he is about etc." Can it be that, leaving off with the nominative as the Wood Pigeon leaves off so often with the

August 1857 first phrase of her Song? Do you not remember it up in the trees of old England, and how the Boys construe her? My Toe's so cold—my Toe's so cold— My Toe's— 7 may be some technical call at But I can't help fancying this 8 the UMIT?" Game. In talking of the Wood Pigeon, I see that, as one 10 are distin­ reads elsewhere, the J-Ju 8 and Nightingale guished in Q:316. .( ,

Indeed the ι-Μί 9 must be a Day Nightingale rather, as being so great a Lover of the Rose. My Scribe has forgotten to add the two last lines to Q.434 . _ j. ^ .^ ^ and this is all I will say about Omar now. I am soon going to set off wandering again, and shall be but little here: I think your Letters had best be addressed to me at W. Browne's, Goldington Hall, Bedford. I shall begin looking at old Hdfiz again, but my Eyes are but bad, so as I have to practise sitting idle a good deal, and I think must take to making Cherry nets! I heard from your Mother you had had some Fever, but were mending. I say nothing of Indian Affairs which would only plague and distress me to no purpose. I always look to what is called the Dark side in such matters. Whether England triumph, and whether justly or not, may you and She (the Wife) live to come back safe! I had a note from Mrs. Alfred Tennyson telling me they were at Coniston in Cumberland for the Summer, but not very well. Frederic writes me that Alfred's Illustrated Edition13 does not go off well: so he hears from Parker, who may speak as a rival Publisher to Moxon. As Alfred shares in the Expense (which must be heavy) I hope there will be a Sale. Crabbe slowly weakens. Ever yours, E.FG. A Persian text of Attar's Mantic u-Tair, just published. "Oh heart! Suppose all this world's affairs were within your power, And the whole world from end to end as you desire it." 8 "Alas that we became old in vain." 4 "Oh Mufti of the city, we work more than you do. Oh Mufti, we work more than you do." 5 "Oh you who are driven by the mallet of Fate." 6 "He knows—He knows—He knows—He—" 7 "He knows." 1 2

September 1857 β "Polo." » "Bulbul." 10 "Nightingale." 11 "Put the wine in my hand and cheer." 12 "When your radiant soul leaves the body." 13 Poems, containing 55 illustrations by leading artists of the day, had been pub­ lished by Moxon in May, priced at £. 1 lis 6d. The venture was not a success and, in 1859, 8,000 copies were sold as remainders.

To George Crabbe of Merton Goldingtoti1 Sat., Septr 19/57 My dear George, I got your Letter today. In case I should not go to the Funeral,2 it will only be from my nervous fear of making any Figure in it; and I can't feel sure but I might make too much of one, for it is certain I feel your Father's loss more than any I have felt—except Major Moor's perhaps, whom, if I had known longer, I had not lived nearly so much with. If I go, it will be rather for the sake of the Living. I want your Sisters so much to go to my Wife at Gorlestone, when they can, and for as long as they can; and I have had a Letter from her today, hoping so they will but let her in that way return them some of the Sympathy they showed her when her Trial was. I am convinced that their going to her would be the very thing for herself, poor Soul; taking her out of herself, and giving her the very thing she is pining for; namely, some one to devote herself to. I write to your Sister to say this. And mind you tell me any use I can be to you, for I can't say what a pleasure it will be to me, and what a heap of unrepaid obligations I feel always on my Shoulders for the Kindness and all the happy peaceful Times I have experienced at Bredfield for the last ten years. In case I do go to the Funeral, I can put up at the Castle, or at Mrs. Garrod's, can't I? I want to keep clear of Woodbridge and all Friends, and to talk to nobody about one who has left nobody I care to talk to about him; except Drew; and I almost dread becoming too sad with remembering our old Days! My dear George, don't misunderstand me in case I don't appear on the Day; and don't mistrust all my little Professions of Sympathy. I shall know better tomorrow: but I do not like putting off writing. E.FG.

October 1857 I will think over the Ipswich Journal; but have become afraid of meddling with another's Memory:3 and of one worth many hundred wretches like myself. 1 Letters from this point on indicate clearly that the FitzGeralds had separated since EFG wrote Cowell on August 22 to direct his mail in the future to W. K. Browne's at Bedford. Specific date of the parting cannot be fixed. 2 Crabbe of Bredfield had died on September 16, aged 72. 8 EFG's obituary of his old friend, published by Aldis Wright (Letters and Literary Remains, VII, 421-25), appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine, Nov., 1857, pp. 562-63.

To E. B. Cowell Rushmere October 3157 My dear Cowell, I hope things will not be so black with you and us by the time this Letter reaches you, but you may be amused and glad to have it from me. Not that I have come into SufFolk on any cheerful Errand; I have come to bury dear old Mr. Crabbe! I suppose you have had some Letters of mine telling you of his Illness; Epileptic Fits which came successively and weakened him gradually, and at last put him to his Bed entirely, where he lay some while unable to move himself or to think! They said he might lie so a long time, since he eat and drank with fair Appetite: but suddenly the End came on and after a twelve hours' Stupor he died. On Tuesday, September 22, he was buried and I came from Bedfordshire (where I had only arrived two days before) to assist at it. I and Mr. Drew1 were the only persons invited not of the Family: but there were very many Farmers and Neighbours come to pay respect to the remains of the brave old Man, who was buried, by his own desire, among the poor in the Churchyard in a Grave that he wishes to be no otherwise distinguisht than by a common Head and Footstone. After this I stayed a week at the little Bredfield Inn. Miss Crabbe and her sister Mary bore all with great fortitude, though, as you will guess, it is not only the loss of a Father, but of a Home to them. They are left but slenderly provided for, but I hope may get on in the way proposed: viz: to go and live with their Brother in Law, the Rev­ erend Charles Sparkman,2 who married Kate that died, and whose little Babe the two Sisters have brought up at Bredfield. Miss Crabbe's Heart is entirely bound up in this Child, who is in Looks and Mind

October 1857 (she says) a revival of her dead Sister: so she will go where it goes, if she can, at any Cost, and has still something to care for in Life while it lives. You may imagine it was melancholy enough to me to revisit the house when He who had made it so warm for me so often lay cold in his CoflBn unable to entertain me any more! His little old dark Study (which I called the "Cobblery") smelt strong of its old Smoke: and the last Cheroot he had tried lay three quarters smoked in its little China Ash-pan. This I have taken as a Relic, as also a little Silver Nutmeg Grater which used to give the finishing Touch to many a Glass of good hot Stuff, and also had belonged to the Poet Crabbe. Thus much for this. On Thursday Afternoon (the day before Yester­ day ) I went to Ipswich to see the Hockleys, who seem well; and yester­ day looked for your Brother who drove me here: and I now sit to write this in what I suppose was your Bedroom—before • Breakfast—after which I am to go to London and so back to Bedford. Last night I had some of your Letters read to me: among them one but yesterday arrived, not very sunshiny in its prospects: but your Brother thinks the Times Newspaper of yesterday somewhat bids us look up. Only, all are trembling for Lucknow,3 crowded with Helpless­ ness and Innocence! I am ashamed to think how little I understand of all these things: but have wiser men, and men in Place, understood much more? or, understanding, have they dcme what they should? As I told you in my last note, I have not been reading Persian of late: and indeed very little of any Language whatsoever. My Persian Dictionary I have left in Norfolk: I shall come back to it in time if I live and my Eyes hold out. I suppose the Eastern Characters have tried them, but I sometimes wonder how so little. I am going to read Napier's Life4 when I get to Goldington. I believe I told you that your Letters had best, I think, be directed to me at W. K. Browne's Goldington Hall, Bedford This is the best I can see for the present: but I scarce know if you will long correspond with me: for I doubt you and she will have cause to find fault with my Future, which is at present dark. I shall write to you when all is more decided, and leave it to your Judgment how to act. I am told there is a Letter supposed to be from India forwarded to me at Goldington while I was at Bredfield. If so, I shall find it Today or Tomorrow. This House as you may suppose brings back last Summer to my mind. Here we did over Omar Khayyam. We have had a wonderful Summer here: but this very morning I woke to the tune of the first

October 1857 Equinoctial Gale: Clouds are driving, and some yellow Leaves in the Wind. Did I tell you in my last that poor Mrs. Smith of Farlingay had been ill—out of her mind—so as to be obliged to leave home for a while. She was not back when I was at Bredfield, and Smith himself so Sorrowstricken he could not see me, nor (what otherwise he would have been sure to do) attend Crabbe's Funeral. So now Bredfield and Farlingay are shut out from me. I had hoped George Crabbe would apply for Bredfield, which I believe he might have got; but he chose to abide with his Norfolk Patron.5 The very day after the Funeral, came one from Kent to whom the Living had been offered: he came into the room where the Miss Crabbes were, to look over the house, and enquire about Tithe and Glebe. This was his only Errand. Love to the dear Lady, and may you be now and for time to come safe and well is the Prayer of yours, E.FG. 1 Crabbe's

curate, H. S. Drew. Southam, near Leamington. 3 The British at Lucknow, besieged since July 1, were evacuated about six weeks after EFG wrote. 4 Life and Opinions of Sir Charles Napier by his brother, Sir W.F.P. Napier, 4 vols., 1857. The second portion of FitzGerald's poem, "The Two Generals," is based on a passage in volume II, p. 429. 8 Lord Walsingham. 2 Of

To Anna Ling Goldington Hall, Bedford October 17157 Dear Anna Ling, Your Letter gives a very bad account of your Mother:1 but such Violence may not be so incurable [as] some more quiet form of Madness. We are all subject to this in ourselves, and in those related with us, and we can't tell how soon it is to appear, nor how terrible its Appearance. It was indeed very sad to me to attend dear Crabbe's Funeral, although I did not wish him to live on as he was. I lodged at Castle Inn, and spent the Evenings with the Crabbes to whom I hope I was of some little Comfort. Miss Crabbe bears all as one might expect of her: She and Mary leave on the 27th (Tuesday) and carry Kate's little Baby

November 1857 to the Father's in Warwickshire, where they propose living together, if they can manage it, for Miss Crabbe's heart is twined up with the Child. I had wanted them to go to Gorlestone. And it was doubly sad to walk over the old Fields to Farlingay—and no one there!—The Pretty Garden, and the Door open—but no one there! Tell your Father I perfectly understand why he did not come to see me; insomuch that I would not let the Girl disturb him in case he should have been asleep in that little inner room. I thought it best to let him know I had called, and to leave it to him to come to me, or let me come to him, in case he were in spirits. I have not heard myself for a month from the Cowells; but heard about them from the Ipswich Cowells. They have both had Fever, but were recovered, and both seemed to carry a brave Heart amid all the troubles which were about them. November 3. See, how I mislaid my Letter, and have otherwise mis­ laid myself too—and am now got away from Bedford to 161 Western Road, Brighton, for a short while. This is sad weary work, Anna Ling! I don't know how long I shall be here—not long—nor whither I shall go next. I have had a Letter from Cowell since I began this: things look better in India now, as you know. Farewell: kind Regards to Mr. Ling: he and you do better than I do. Yours very truly however E.FG. "Goldington ΗαΙΓ Bedford will find me sooner or later. 1

Mrs. Job Smith.

To Anna Ling 161 Western Road, Brighton November 8, [1857] Dear Anna, I have your Note Today—so you see lose no time in replying to it. It is very good of your Husband taking so much trouble, and offering to take yet more, about me. I will not however trouble him to come to Town now to meet me: for indeed all my Home is in too unsettled a State now to resolve upon any House, and I doubt I shall for the Fu­ ture be so much alone that Mrs. Armstrong would be too much for me. Of all this you will, I dare say, hear something; and I will say no more

December 1857 at present; only this much: that, whatsoever Cloud now hangs over me I have raised for myself, and have only myself to blame. I do hope Mr. Ling has not been at very much trouble in this matter: nor did I ever suppose very much would be required, or I should not have given it to him. We will wait till we meet, which surely will be some day not very distant. If I am in London staying I will let you know: so as, if you should both come to Town, we may go and see some Sights together. I am now here only because my friend, Mr. Browne, is here who sticks to me with all friendly Kindness and Advice: and no one wants it more. I am very glad to hear a better account of your Mother and Father. Happy those who have at least not to blame themselves; as has yours Very truly always E.FG.

To E. B. Cowell 31 Portland Street London Decr 8/57 My dear Cowell, You will recognize the Date of my Abode. Two years ago you were coming to see me in it much about this Season: and a year ago I wrote you my first Letter to India from it. I came hither from Brighton a week ago: how long to be here uncertain: you had best direct to Goldington Hall, Bedford. I sent you a short Letter by last Marseilles Post from Brighton: and I now begin this short one because I have happened again to take hold of some Books which we are mutually interested in. I have left with Borrow the Copy of the Mantic De Tassy gave me; so some days ago I bought another Copy of Norgate. For you must know I had again taken up my rough Sketch of a Translation, which, such as it is, might easily be finisht. But it is in truth no Translation: but only the Paraphrase of a Syllabus of the Poem: quite unlike the original in Style too: but it would give, I think, a fair proportionate Account of the Scheme of the Poem. If ever I finish it, I will send it you. Well; then in turning this over, I also turned over Volume I of Sprenger's Catalogue, which I bought by itself for 6s. a year ago. As it contains all the Persian MSS. I supposed that would be enough for me. I have been looking at his List of Attar's Poems. What a Number! All almost much made up of Apologues in which Attar excels, I think. His Stories are better than

December 1857 Jami's: to be sure, he gives more to pick out of. An interesting thing in the Mantic is, the stories about Mahmud: and these are the best in the Book. I find I have got seven or eight in my brief Extract. I see Sprenger says Attar was born in 513—four years before poor Omar Khayyam died! He mentions one of Attar's Books—"The Book of Union," , which seems to be on the very subject of the Apologue to the Peacock's Brag in the Mantic: line 814 in De Tassy. I suppose this is no more the Orthodox Mussulman Version than it is ours. Sprenger also mentions as one separate Book what is part of the Mantic—and main part—the LS-aIv-•1 Sprenger says (p. 350) how the MSS. of Attar differ from one another. And now about old Omar. You talked of sending a Paper about him to Fraser and I told you, if you did, I would stop it till I had made my Comments. I suppose you have not had time to do what you proposed, or are you overcome with the Flood of bad Latin I poured upon you? Well: don't be surprised (vext, you won't be) if Z solicit Fraser for room for a few Quatrains in English Verse, however—with only such an Introduction as you and Sprenger give me—very short—so as to leave you to say all that is Scholarly if you will. I hope this is not very Cavalier of me. But in truth I take old Omar rather more as my prop­ erty than yours: he and I are more akin, are we not? You see all [his] Beauty, but you can't2 feel with him in some respects as I do. I think you would almost feel obliged to leave out the part of Hamlet in rep­ resenting him to your Audience: for fear of Mischief. Now I do not wish to show Hamlet at his maddest: but mad he must be shown, or he is no Hamlet at all. G. de Tassy eluded all that was dangerous, and all that was characteristic. I think these free opinions are less dangerous in an old Mahometan, or an old Roman (like Lucretius) than when they are returned to by those who have lived on happier Food. I don't know what you will say to all this. However I dare say it won't matter whether I do the Paper or not, for I don't believe they'll put it in. Then—yesterday I bought at that shop in the Narrow Passage at the end of Oxford Street a very handsome small Folio MS. of Sadi's Bostan3 for 10s. But I don't know when I shall look at it to read: for my Eyes are but bad: and London so dark, that I write this Letter now at noon by the Light of two Candles. Of which enough for To-day. I must however while I think of it again notice to you about those first Intro­ ductory Quatrains to Omar in both the Copies you have seen; taken out of their Alphabetical place, if they be Omar's own, evidently by way of putting a good Leg foremost—or perhaps not his at all. So that which Sprenger says begins the Oude MS.4 is manifestly, not any

December 1857 Apology of Omar's own, but a Denunciation of him by some one else: and is a sort of Parody (in Form at least) of Omar's own Quatrain 445, ^ 5with its indignant reply by the Sultan. Tuesday Dec. 22. I have your Letter of Nov. 9—giving a gloomy Account of what has long ere this been settled for better or worse. It is said we are to have a Mail on Friday. I must post this Letter before then. Thank you for the MSS. You will let me know what you expend on them. I have been looking over De Tassy's Omar.6 Try and see the other Poems of Attar mentioned by Sprenger: those with Apologues, etc., in which (as I have said) Attar seems to me to excel. Love to the Lady. I have no news of the Crabbes, but that they do pretty well in their new home. Donne has just been here and gone—asking about you. I dine with him on Christmas Day. E.FG. 1

Haft Wady, "Seven Stages," the seven valleys of the Mantic u-Tair. Aldis Wright edition reads "don't." The script clearly reads "can't." 3 "The Fruit Garden." 4 A. Sprenger, in his Catalogue of the Arabic, Persian, and Hindustani Manu­ scripts of the Library of the Kings of Oudh, vol. I, Calcutta, 1854. 5 "My forgiveness from thee." a Note sur Ies Rubdiydt de Omar Khaiyam, Paris, 1857. The essay includes ten quatrains translated from the transcript of the Bodleian MS sent to de Tassy by EFG. De Tassy had first published his Note in the Journal Asiatique, No. IX, Paris, 1857. 2 The

To E. B. Cowell [London] Wednesday Decr 23/57 My dear Cowell, I posted you a Letter yesterday, but inadvertently plunged it unpaid into the Post with some others. So as I will pay for this line at least to account for the non-payment of the other. Besides I have been looking at the Accounts of Omar Khayyam's Life from Atash Kadah1 etc. which you sent me. Does the Atash Kadah account agree with Sprenger in our little Point? Sprenger says that Nizami allowed Omar "2,022 mithqals from the Nayshapur Treasury." You transcribe from the Atash Kadah

December 1857 3 I can only gather to the you leave a space between the two effect that "Omar was satisfied with so much money and so much Land in Nishapin-—" You will set all right when you have your mate­ rials all ready: I only put this in now just because I have just looked at it. The Atash Kadah writes obscurely, I think: you say you can't well divine what that means about Omar and Sanjar mounting Thrones to­ gether etc. It is pretty about the Three Boys making a vow of mutual Promotion.4 I think D'Herbelot's notion of Omar being a Saint rises from that Story which Nizami tells (and D'Herbelot quotes) about Omars Tomb covered with Flowers.5 Nizdmi calls him UiIfj-* 6 and says he never spoke a rash word: so as it seemed in some sort of Prophecy. Else I suppose oA-twL 7 only means "May my Tomb" etc.—which seemed a vain word to his Disciple. E.FG. I am not sure about the Translation of the Atash Kadah: but does it not say that Omar got some Land together with other Revenue from the State? J ^ * — 8 Sprenger only mentions so many mithcals9 from the Treasury" etc. Now if there be this Land also, it is not only a pleasant addition to his Story, but explains somewhat that constant ι» in his Quatrains:—the side of the "Arable" where he wished to lie with his book, and a Bit of Mutton, and a moderate Bottle of Wine.11

1

A biography of Persian poets by Lutf 'Ali Beg Adhar (1711-81). Omar Khayydm was satisfied with him because of some agricultural lands in Naishapur given Omar." 3 "Several." 4 An allusion to the persistent legend that as youths Omar, Nizam al Mulk, vizier under Emperor Malik Shah, and Hassan al Sabb£h, founder of the Assassins, had been fellow students and friends. The story, accepted in EFG's day, has been dismissed as apocryphal by modern scholars. (See E. G. Browne, A Literary History of Persia, 4 vols., Cambridge, 1951, II, 190-92). 5 The story is that Omar predicted that he would be buried where trees would shed blossoms over his grave. Thirteen years after the poet's death, one who had heard the prediction visited the grave and found it covered with petals of pear and peach blossoms fallen from overhanging trees (Literary History of Persia, II, 247). I Because the original blossoms were said to have fallen from fruit trees, Browne !dismisses as a "delusion" the belief that the Omar Khayyam rose now blooming on FitzGerald's grave at Boulge could have been produced from hips brought to England from Naishapur in 1884 by William Simpson, artist for the Illustrated London News (II, 148). Browne's logic is suspect. Peach and pear trees which flourished in 1135 could hardly be expected to survive until the nineteenth cen­ tury. No rose bushes appear in a drawing of Omar's tomb given to Bernard Quaritch by Simpson. However, the artist wrote that the rosebushes grew "beside 2 "And

January 1858 the tomb" (Letters from Edward FitzGerald to Bernard Quaritch, 1926, p. 93. Simpson's sketch faces p. 98). 6 "Master." ι "May." 8 "Some agricultural lands." 9 A measure of weight equal to five grams; here, of gold. 10 "On the edge of the cultivated land." 11 The well-known passage in EFG's Rubdiydt: A Jug of Wine, a Loaf of Bread—and Thou Beside me singing in the Wilderness— when literally translated reads: If a loaf of wheaten bread be forthcoming, A gourd of wine, and a thigh-bone of mutton, And then if thou and I be sitting in the wilderness— (Heron-Allen's 1899 translation)

To Stephen Spring Rice [31 Great Portland St.] [January 15,1858] My dear kind S. Rice, I am ashamed of your Kindness almost. Yet I don't forget you! I dare not go to you at dinner etc. But I will go to you some day or Evening when you and Missus are alone—any day. If you care to, come and have a Glass of Whiskey (very good) here. I drank three tumblers last night—with a Parson—more than my wont, however. I wrote to dear Mrs. Frere three days ago—to send her £,1.1 Yours ever I hope E.FG. 1 For

a pensioner.

To Stephen Spring Rice 31 Gt. Portland St. Febr. 3/58 My dear Spring Rice, I was very sorry just to have gone out before you came the other Night. It is very seldom I turn out to "walk the Streets" till seven.

February 1858 But I was Head-heavy, and so went abroad earlier, finding myself no use at home. I can go any day to the Custom House, but I really considered when I used to go that I disturbed you by calling you away from your Perch. Can't you appoint to come here some Evening?—any will do for me, or I will go to you when you happen to be alone. And "let the Devil roar for" Refugees,1 don't give 'em up on Com­ pulsion, Hal—if you mean ever to sing "Rule Britannia" again: though I could live very happily under L. Napoleon, and be glad never to see the "Times" more Yours ever E.FG. 1 On January 14, Felice Orsini, an Italian revolutionary expatriate, and three accomplices had attempted to assassinate Louis Napoleon. Three bombs, obtained by Orsini in England, shattered the imperial carriage en route to the opera, but emperor and empress were unhurt. The incident and consequent French criticism of British laws for protecting "refugees and incendiaries" created strained relations between the two nations for several weeks. EFG paraphrases Hotspur on his prisoners and Falstaff on compulsion (Henry IV, Pt.l, 1.3.125-26 and II.4.261-66, respectively).

To Stephen Spring Rice 31 Gt. P. St. Thursday [February 11,1858] My dear Spring Rice, I did not choose to trouble Mr. Prescott1 last night, but I wish you would be so good as, at any fitting moment, to ask him or any such good Authority, about the Bank Stock, which I have been told again to withdraw from—not because it does not pay now, but that it is likely to be touched by future Legislation in a way that will lessen the Value of its Stock. I was wondering last night, as you read, whether that Ode were not so good (good as it is) or I becoming duller to Poetry—a thing one knows is apt to be as one grows older, and begins to think of Bank Stock! This made me almost allicholly about it. It seems quite odd to me to have dined out in modern Style. Will you believe, it was the first Time I had ever seen the present Fashion of only the Dessert on the Table etc. But it was all very pleasant, polite,

February 1858

and amiable. Mr. Prescott is one, I am sure, one would rejoice there were more of in poor old declining England. Yours truly E.FG. 1 Probably

Edward Grote Prescott of the Stock Exchange.

To Anna Ling 31 Great Portland St., London Feb. 20/58 Dear Anna Ling, I wish you would let me hear how You all are—your Father, Mother, and all. I used to hear something of you and others in SufiFolk from the Crabbes—but that is past. I hear from Miss Crabbe now and then in her new Quarters with which she seems on the whole fairly satisfied. The Cowells get to like India more and more, in spite of the Hot Sun, and the Hot Water in which Rebellion has so long kept them. I heard a little about Alfred1 from Charles Cowell who came here a week ago. Tell Alfred I am going to send him a Harrow one day of a kind that a Man I know has patented. I have so long been wanting to make A. a little present for his new Farm: and I thought this Harrow (which can't do harm if no better than its Predecessor) would in some respects serve two Friends. Remember to remember me to him and all yours. Here have I been living somewhile as I have done for thirty years— only thirty years older, duller, sicker, and sadder. Farewell. With kind Regards to your "Gudeman" Yours ever E.FG. 1 Alfred

Smith, Anna Ling's brother.

To Mrs. Cowell (Fragment) [31 Great Portland St.] Tuesday, Feb. 23 [1858] . .. You see, my dear Lady, what an Interval between the former Sheet and this! Charles Cowell came and stayed here a day, and very pleasant

February 1858 it was: we dined at that famous Fish place in the City you may have heard him talk of: and he gave me much good financial advice, as well as in all ways proved himself the sound-thinking Englishman for which I value him highly. This sort of man is rarer every day; and I have fresh occasion to observe how active Business keeps the Wits clear which I see go to muddle in such men as Spedding, and many wise Fellows. One day as I was in William's and Norgates Shop, Norgate asked me if I knew who it was talking at the other end. No—I did not. It was— Max Muller. It so chanced that I had taken to the Shop the MS Cowell had sent me—to have it warily stitcht up. I so longed to go up to Miiller and speak to him about you both: but my shyness had the Mastery of me, and I let the Occasion pass! And now here is the 23rd. and I must get my Letter ready for the Mail: and this morning your Letters of Jan. 8 are on my Breakfast Table! You both anticipate something of what I have told you in my previous Sheet: I will not go over the Ground again: not touch upon it: not even look over what I have written there. Only, you are both too charitable to me. I must write something to EBC and try and do one of his Messages today: so far as enquiring about Austin goes. I don't know if I dare muster courage to write out my Version of Omar Khayyam for him— but we will see. Before you get this Letter—perhaps before I cease writing it—there will be some startling News in England, I think, with regard to France. Our thin Alliance seems likely to blow away in what may be War: and then farewell to Dreaming and Books! Ever yours E.FG.

End of Letter to EBC Now time to transcribe—besides having a sort of horror to look back at, as I always feel when having done anything of the kind. This is the last day I dare wait for the Mail: so must close. I have scarce seen any Friends and go out nowhere. Spedding has been a little ill: but is now well: and goes on with the fourth Volume of his Bacon. He will die, I believe, with that "Hog in Armour" on him—to how little good! He can't wash his Blackamoor white: and surely Bacon's Books were already well enough edited not to need the whole sacrifice of Spedding's Life in re-editing. He asks about you always. So does Donne: who has left the London Library: and lives at Blackheath, writing

Febraary 1858 Reviews (Tacitus not yet out!) and licensing plays. Good Bye, my dear Cowell. E.FG.

To Anna Ling 31 Gt. Portland St. Feb. 24, [1858] Dear Anna Ling, I suppose you have ere this found that our Letters crossed—a thing that so often happens after a long Silence between two Parties. I must now however write you a bit more about Mrs. Armstrong's House. So far from your needing to make any Apology to me for asking about it, I rather owe it to you for having ever troubled you on the Subject: and anyhow I take it as very kind of Mr. Ling to consider me in the matter at all. You know by this time that my plans of Life have once again become unsettled—if ever, indeed, they promised to settle! I am still abroad as to my future Destination, though it is certain that like the Snail I shall want but my own house to carry over my Back— a small, and not a large, one! Perhaps, and probably, only a Lodging, somewhere or other: and I do hope this next Summer will help me to guess where. Else, Life runs away, and I believe I shall be settled in the Churchyard before I have fixt on a Residence out of it. Let Mr. Ling act quite freely and independently, and make the best Bargain he can for himself: I dare say I shall have to get in or near some Town, now—with perhaps a Man and his Wife (as Alfred has) to do for me, if I can find a good trusty Couple: such as are yet to be found in the dear old Country stilll When you go to Farlingay, do give my poor Pictures just a dust with a silk handkerchief. I want to go there and find some Papers, and must do so ere long. Give my Love to your Father and all yours. Ever yours, E.FG.

March 1858

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson 31 Great Portland Street, London March 19/58 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, Some months ago I was asked at a Parson's in Bedfordshire whether the Bird that claps his Wings at Dawn,1 etc., was a Lark, or a Cock? I have asked the Pollocks in London, who can't tell me: perhaps Spedding could: but I see almost as little of him as of you two in your Island. So I will ask the Question from the Fountain head and take the opportunity to ask you how you both are, etc. My married Life has come to an end: I am back again in old Quar­ ters, living as for the last thirty years—only so much older, sadder, uglier, and worse! If People want to go further for the cause of all this Blunder than the fact of two People of very determined habits and Temper, first trying to change them at close on fifty—they may lay nine tenths of the Blame on me. I don't want to talk more of the matter, but one must say something. I sometimes wonder if People used to be so indifferent about seeing one another as all of us, so old Friends, seem to be! I am very guilty: but I don't forget those I once knew. There is no use talking—nor driving against Destiny—and I don't care two pence for getting toward the end of Life, only hoping for no uneasy Exit. I have seen Thackeray but once in the three months I have been here: Carlyle twice: he is busy with Frederic The Great. Spedding is bringing out another Vol. of Bacon, on whom I am vext to see all his Life squandered. I have scarce seen anyone else. The Cowells love India. I am soon rushing oif from London—but not sure where! What Folly! One ought to be shot. What is become of Frederic? He never answered my last, which probably never reached him. Yours and Alfred's ever E.FG. 1 In

Tennyson's "Dream of Fair Women," 11. 179-80. And singing clearer than the crested bird That claps his wings at dawn.

Spring 1858

To George Crabbe London, Thursday Eug. [Spring, 1858] My dear George, I missed you much when you went: and now one is just gone whom I also miss—the Bloody Warrior1—with whom I talked of you many times. His pony, he thinks, is not quite so big as the former one you had of him: but otherwise perfect, he says: and can at least carry him (The Warrior). We went to the Crystal Palace and saw the things you and I saw: and many and deep were the Warrior's Observations on the Statues, etc. We did wish for you: and I am so sorry you spent your Money and Time in London when the weather was so bad. And now it is so fine I want to be out of it. The smell of the Turf at Sydenham2 made me pant for to live on it. I am not sure precisely when I can get off as I have some little arrangements yet to make. I think my first move will be to Ipswich, to look at some Papers, etc. at Farlingay. After that I may wind round to you. But you will not in any way trouble yourself about me. The Warrior moves to a new house3 in August, and I think we must contrive to visit him before that. I must tell you how much my Brother's People and the Pollocks liked you—they did indeed—and Margaret Purcell4 was really de­ lighted with your candid talk with her. So you are (as I knew) not only a much better Gentleman but a much more pleasant one than EFG—having improved your Gift in wholesome Communion with your Kind, while mine is gone to rust in morose Solitude. I really re­ joice in your being as acceptable to others as you are to me; for that is very acceptable indeed. Yours (with a bad Finger—from morosely biting it) E.FG. 1 W.

K. Browne, a first lieutenant in the Bedfordshire Regiment of Militia. To which place the Crystal Palace had been moved from Hyde Park. 3 From Goldington Hall to Goldington Bury, the former home of Mrs. Browne's parents. 4 One of EFG's cousins. 2

May 1858 To Ε. Β. Cowell London May 1/58 My dear Cowell, A few days ago I posted you the French Translation of Omar Khayyam's Algebra.1 You will see by the Preface that several French­ men have written concerning the histories of Omar and his two friends: one of whom, Hassan, seems to have been rather a "queer Customer" — Founder of the "Assassins" says one Frenchman. Is that so?2 I have received, I am afraid to think, two letters from you which I am now making my first step to answer. I get indeed less and less to say; for every day I hear and see and read less, I think. In all the five months I have been in London I have seen Thackeray but twice, and for not many minutes either time: scarce anything of Spedding, who on his side seems to have lost some of his Vitality also: Tennyson not once: Carlyle but twice. I sometimes wonder if in days of high culture (so called) Men, having so many studies and recreations of Books, Music, Pictures etc. in themselves, care less for even that little part of the foreign world—their Friends, who sympathize, but whose sym­ pathy can be done without. How is this? Young Folks now don't fall in Love, and old Folks can do without those they once loved when young. I am very much obliged to you for the Emendations, which I shall proceed to use—in the Fields, now so green, though the Weather is not yet warm enough to let one lie in them. But do not get me any more MSS copied at present: unless it be the better Copy of Omar you spoke 3 of. If he be copied, let it be large and clear, like the you sent me. I am just leaving London—for Teignmouth (to see my Sister)4 for the present: and then—I scarce know where! I am going to look about for some place to curl about in as a Dog does before he lies down: I will try the Country: for London is always open-armed to fall back into if that fails. I shall go and see your Brother at Ipswich. Mrs. C. Alien5 was saying the other Night that your Spence's6 was a bad— expensive and noisy—place to be in—so she said. Colonel and Mary Hockley are both in town: both well now: though both were very ill in the winter. We have talked of you both. Ever yours, E.FG.

May 1858 F. Woepcke, L'Algebre d Omar Al-Khayydmi, Paris, 1851. See letter to Cowell, Dec. 23, 1857, n.4. 3 "Eight Paradises." EFG probably refers to the transcript of a portion of a poem Cowell had sent. There is no Persian poem by that title. 4 Mrs. de Soyres. 5 John Allen's sister-in-law. 6 Spence's Hotel in Calcutta, where the Cowells first lived in India. 1 2

To George Crabbe 31 Gt. Portland St. May 26, [1858] My dear George, I came up here yesterday in order to catch in one clutch a large com­ pany of Kinsfolk—Kerriches, DeSoyres, etc. But I shall be here but a Day or two: and then move either to Northamptonshire, or Suffolk! I am going to look at Northampton (for the 50th time) and shall go to Southam to see your Sister.1 As to the Captain2 I shan't meddle with him: though he may be somewhere in those neighborhoods. His eldest Niece is dead: his Wife knocked up in consequence, and so he thought of Leamington or some such place for a Change. But in the meanwhile he sent for Mrs. E.F.G. by way of Head Nurse, I suppose: and has found her so perfectly agreeable and useful that I believe he begins to wonder at my cruel bad Taste. So it's an ill Wind that blows no one Good. I suppose all this will stop him from joining you in a Trip abroad. And what shall I say of myself? That there is no one in the world who could tempt me to such an Expedition more than yourself: but I am so set on finding out some home for myself this summer that I don't like to leave the Country. I have been looking at several Towns in Sussex and Surrey: I could almost have shut up shop at Bradford! I shall look at Northampton: at Dereham, etc., when I am with you: and die house­ less at last, in the arms of Mrs. Gamp.31 am very sick of my own weak­ ness and indecision. But unfortunately my Decisions have not made me confident the other way. You need not be afraid of WB's expense: he will quite readily fall in with any reasonable scheme. He called out for better Wines when with me because he thought ί ought to call out for them, and that I am a Screw. But if you go at all, don't be hampered to extremity: but do let me

September 1858 help you to make up any odds and ends without having to consider them too closely. I think I am a very bad travelling Companion—bothered with little things—ill-tempered, in short: which is one reason that makes me very shy of embarking with other People. I told W.B. that would be so when we went together. Your account of Hick's Curate amused me very much. I read it to Sophy at Bradford. Somehow, it was soothing to me to see her and her Husband in their quiet home. I really think he is a good—and even what one may call innocent Man. I looked at Trowbridge with great Interest too. Let me hear from you: remember me very kindly to the Barlows: and believe me yours ever E.FG. 1 Caroline Crabbe. She and her sister Mary were living with their widowed brother-in-law near Leamington, Warwickshire. 2 W. K. Browne. 3 Sarah Gamp, the nurse in Dickens' Martin Chuzzlewit.

To E. B. Cowell [Merton Rectory] September 3/58 My dear Cowell, I have been wandering about, and only a week ago received from Goldington three or four Letters you had directed thither since May, I think: though you do not always date. You will see by this that I have been as remiss in communication with Bedfordshire as with Calcutta: and in truth do seem slipping down fast into—what? I should however have replied to you before had I known you had written: and my Host at Goldington might have found out and forwarded me your Letters with some Enquiry. But he is a busy Man and thinks my idle Affairs will very well bear keeping. So much for that. You will have heard from your Family that I was with them a very pleasant Fort­ night in July. After which I was at Boulge with my Brother and saw the Smiths of Farlingay and their kin. Mrs. Smith is better, but never will be well, I suppose: her Disease having (as common) taken the Turn of Jealousy and Spite against the one she most loved—her Hus­ band—who is much pulled down by it, though he bears all as few other Men could or would. We had a day too at Otley and Ashbocking,

September 1858 at which latter place Alfred [Smith] farms. He however moves to Tuddenham at Michaelmas. Everybody asked about you and your Wife. Harvest is now pretty nearly in through all these Parts, I think: and well in: so fast a Harvest scarce known, so as the Labourers earned their Money at less expense of Labour and Time. Now about my Studies, which, I think, are likely to dwindle away too. I have not turned to Persian since the Spring; but shall one day look back to it: and renew my Attack on the "Seven Castles,"1 if that be the name. I found the Jdmi MS. at Rushmere: and there left it for the present: as the other Poem will be enough for me for my first on­ slaught. I believe I will do a little a day, so as not to lose what little knowledge I had. As to my Omar: I gave it to Parker in January, I think: he saying Fraser was agreeable to take it. Since then I have heard no more; so as, I suppose, they don't care about it: and may be quite right. Had I thought they would be so long however I would have copied it out and sent it to you: and I will still do so from a rough and imperfect Copy I have (though not now at hand) in case they show no signs of printing me. My Translation will interest you from its Form, and also in many respects in its Detail: very unliteral as it is. Many Quatrains are mashed together: and something lost, I doubt, of Omar's Simplicity, which is so much a Virtue in him. But there it is, such as it is. I purposely said in the very short notice I prefixed to the Poem that it was so short because better Information might be fur­ nished in another Paper, which I thought you might undertake. So it rests. Nor have I meddled with the Mantic lately: nor does what you say encourage me to do so. For what I had sketcht out was very para­ phrase indeed. I do not indeed believe that any readable Account (unless a prose Analysis, for the History and Curiosity of the Thing) will be possible, for me to do, at least. But I took no great pleasure in what I had done: and every day get more and more a sort of Terror at reopening any such MS. My "Go" (such as it was) is gone, and it becomes Work: and the Upshot is not worth working for. It was very well when it was a Pleasure. So it is with Calderon. It is well enough to sketch such things out in warm Blood; but to finish them in cold! I wish I could finish the "Mighty Magician"2 in my new way: which I know you would like, in spite of your caveat for the Gracioso. I have not wholly dropt the two Students, but kept them quite under; and brought out the religious character of the Piece into stronger Relief. But as I have thrown much, if not into Lyric, into Rhyme, which strikes a more Lyric Chord, I have found it much harder to satisfy my­ self than with the good old Blank Verse, which I used to manage easily

September 1858 enough. The "Vida es Sueno" again, though blank Verse has been difficult to arrange; here also Clarin is not quenched, but subdued: as is all Rosaura's Story, so as to assist, and not compete with, the main Interest. I really wish I could finish these some lucky day: but, as I said, it is so much easier to leave them alone; and when I had done my best, I don't know if they are worth the pains, or whether any one (except you) would care for them even if they were worth caring for. So much for my grand Performances: except that I amuse myself with jotting down materials (out of Vocabularies, etc.) for a Vocabulary of rural English, or rustic English: that is, only the best Country Words selected from the very many Glossaries, etc., relating chiefly to country matters, but also to things in general: words that carry their own story with them, without needing Derivation or Authority, though both are often to be found. I always say I have heard the Language of Queen Elizabeth's, or King Harry's Court, in the Suffolk Villages: better a great deal than that spoken in London Societies, whether Fashionable or Literary: and the homely [strength] of which has made Shakespeare, Dryden, South, and Swift, what they could not have been without it. But my Vocabulary if ever done will be a very little Affair, if ever done: for here again it is pleasant enough to jot down a word now and then, but not to equip all for the Press. I have nothing almost to tell you of People and Things here, for I scarce hear from any one—never see any one—and scarce learn any­ thing of the more public from the Papers. Only Donne and I sometimes exchange a Note. His boy Freddy was wounded in some very gallant Attack in India: but he is, I hope and believe, recovered. I must tell you also that I have been down into Warwickshire purposely to visit Miss Crabbe and her Sister Mary, who for the present live with their Cousin (who married Kate) and take care of his Orphan Baby. I found them more settled in their new Life than I had expected: but I somehow do not think they will be there very long. I now write from George Crabbe's in Norfolk. He is well. I scarcely know about my Winter plans: but I believe I shall be hanging about the Eastern Counties. Poor old Landor has been getting himself into a terrible Scrape, libelling a Lady at Bath: so as he has to pay £1000 Damages.3 His sin of always writing has found him out: he has superannuated Epigram-writing and now written one too many. Now, if this Letter is to go by this immediate Post, it must go today: go in my hands with me to the little Town of Watton in Norfolk, which is the Market Town to Merton, in which Parish I am just now tarrying with George Crabbe, the Rector thereof. He is going to dinner with his great People at the

October 1858 Hall: and I, who never go out into Company, go out by myself of Evenings in this Country of Turnips and Pheasant covers. I am very busy making my Will: a Matter which would be easy enough if I did not pay a Lawyer to help me, who of course does all he can to perplex me because I do pay him. But this Will should be done before I am fifty which will be next March: and I believe will not be much too soon. Yours and the Lady's ever, E.FG. 1 The Haft Manzar, Hatifi's version of the loves of Bahram Gur. Each of Bah­ rain's seven wives dwelt in a palace of her own. See letter to Cowell, May 7-June 19, 1857, n.l. 2 Calder6n's El Mdgico Prodigioso. 3 In 1857 W. S. Landor had been caught in the cross-fire of a dispute between two of his friends, both women. The tetchy old man, then 82, vented his anger in Dry Sticks Fagoted, a satire published in 1858. He was sued for libel and damages were found against him.

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson Geldestone, Beccles October 10, [1858] Dear Mrs. Tennyson, You are sometimes kind enough to send me a Kne or two just to tell me how you both are. Can you do so now—and will you? You must not think I don't care to hear, and know, you are both of you well, and happy, as this World goes—even though I don't go to ask the same in Person—which you must truly believe is not in the least Indolence on my Part. But more and more—well, there's no use talking. I wish you would believe it is not Indolence, or Disregard, that keeps me from availing myself of many good Opportunities of seeing you both in the pleasant Island. I am living here with Sister and Nieces—as well to do with them as ever I expect or desire. I heard from Thompson (the Professor) that Thackeray was in very ill health; of some inward Inflammation, Elliotson1 thought. I have written to his eldest Girl to ask about this: but have no answer: and suppose they are all out of London. If you write me a Line, add one or two more to tell me if you have heard anything about this. His Novel2 has been very dull, I thought: no wonder, poor Fellow. When I read of Moxon's Death,3 I wondered whether /j\ would

October 1858 change Publisher, etc. I had heard that Moxon was much out of Sorts so early as February: but I then fancied rather from Loss of Spirits than Bodily Sickness. I heard from Spedding, as I last flew through London, that Alfred had been with him; and was going on, I think, with King Arthur. I never hear from Frederic; and one of my Letters to him was returned to me as missing him at Genoa or Pisa—I now forget which. And now, with Love to "old Alfred" (which I feel, however little he thinks or cares) believe me, dear Mrs. Tennyson Yours always very truly Edward FitzGerald 1 Dr.

John Elliotson, Thackeray's physician and friend.

2

The Virginians.

3

Moxon had died June 3, 1858.

To George Borrow 10 Marine Parade Lowestoft [ October, 1858] My dear Borrow,

I have come here with three nieces to give them sea air and change. They are all perfectly quiet, sensible, and unpretentious girls; so as, if you will come over here any day or days, we will find you board and bed too, for a week longer at any rate. There is a good room below, which we now only use for meals, but which you and I can be quite at our sole ease in. Wont you come? I purpose (and indeed have been some while intentioning) to go over to Yarmouth to look for you. But I write this note in hope it may bring you hither also. Donne has got his soldier boy home from India—Freddy—I always thought him a very nice fellow indeed. No doubt life is happy enough to all of them just now. Donne has been on a visit to the Highlands— which seems to have pleased him. I have got an MS. of Bahram and his Seven Castles, which I have not yet cared to look far into. Will you? It is short, fairly transcribed, and of some repute in its own country, I hear. Cowell sent it me from Calcutta; but it almost requires his company to make one devote one's time to Persian, when, with

November 1858 what remains of one's old English eyes, one can read the Odyssey and Shakespeare. With compliments to the ladies, believe me, Yours very truly, Edward FitzGerald I didn't know you were back from your usual summer tour till Mr. Cobb1 told my sister lately of having seen you. 1 The Reverend Robert Cobb, Rector of Thwaite St. Mary's and of Ellingham, both near Bungay.

To E. B. Cowell Farlingay, Woodbridge Nov. 2/58 My dear Cowell, Your Letter of September came to me while here for a few days. Mrs. Smith is pretty well just now, and I thought it better, as she has so often asked me, not to mark my sense of any serious change in her­ self by perpetually refusing her invitations. I caught a glimpse of your Brother in passing thro' Ipswich: and shall give him a look before I leave the Country. I had a little Business here: and it gives me a strange sort of Pleasure to walk about the old Places among the falling Leaves once more. It is such a Fall of the Year as one scarce remem­ bers: neither Frost, nor Rain—but—Sunshine! I am desirous to remain up to Christmas, at least, in the Country: but have not been able to find a single Lodging in all Woodbridge. Perhaps Prospect Cottage, Ipswich! No. I have not read the Jdmi Diwan; partly because I find my Eyes are none the better, and partly because I have now no one to "prick the sides of my Intent"; not even "Vaulting Ambition" now. I have got the Seven Castles1 in my Box here and old Johnson's Dictionary; and these I shall strike a little Fire out of by and bye: Jami also in time perhaps. I have nearly finisht a metrical Paraphrase and Epitome of the Mantic: but you would scarce like it, and who else would? It has amused me to give a "Bird's Eye" View of the Bird Poem in some sixteen hundred lines. I do not think one could do it as Saldmdn is done. As to Omar, I hear and see nothing of it in Fraser yet: and so I

January 1859 suppose they don't want it. I told Parker he might find it rather dan­ gerous among his Divines: he took it however, and keeps it. I really think I shall take it back; add some stanzas which I kept out for fear of being too strong: print fifty copies and give away; one to you, who won't like it neither. Yet it is most ingeniously tesselated into a sort of Epicurean Eclogue in a Persian Garden. Read Buckle's Civilization2 which all the World reads, praises and abuses. The best part, I believe, is what he draws from others: and he gives that in their own Words; so as the Book is a store of good quotations at any rate. Thackeray has been very ill, I hear, but is better. His Book is very dull to me. Mrs. Tennyson writes that she and Alfred are fairly. My going to India! Ah, I should die when I got there of hot Brains, which suffered even from this last English Summer. Now I am going to Dinner: 12 1/2 P.M. The Smiths desired when I wrote to enclose their best Regards to you and the Lady. You know you do not need to be told of mine. Farewell, Both! E.FG. 8 I am going to buy Ministering Children for a little Girl here—daugh­ ter of CaroKne Harris—Smith that was. The Crabbes are well. 1 Hdtifi's H a f t M a n z a r . AIdis Wright mistakenly identifies the MS as the "Haft Paikar" (Letters and Literary Remains, II, 94). 2 Henry Thomas Buckle, History of Civilization in England, 2 vols., 1857-61. 3 By Mrs. (Howell's sister, Maria Charlesworth.

To Stephen Spring Rice 88 Gt. Portland St. Jan. 12 [1859] My dear Spring Rice,

I was for two Days at Twickenham1 at Xmas and had mapped out to visit you on one. But it rained and stormed so we had all to keep at home, or close to it. I also got to some notion you would be at Dungate for the HoHday. But you were not, I hear. Then I heard from Spedding you had one of your Brothers with you. And, lastly, I am now so deaf with a Cold (or begun to be so with one) that I really can't hear the People at the Shops, and have today been to an Aurist who gives me a Lotion, which of course will do no good. This throws me out of Company for the Present. I do really want to see you, and

January 1859 should even propose to meet you one day at the Rail, when you are all quite alone, to spend an Evening with you. This must be delayed till I can hear without being a Bore: if I ever am to do so. For I find many People don't recover these Deafnesses born of Colds. "Che sara sara,"2 though I am not the Duke of Bedford. You have been unwell too, but are better: the latter I heard from Spedding, and by a Note from Mrs. Frere this Morning, to whom I had written partly in Enquiry about you. She seems in Spirits, and is almost the youngest of us! I see the Placards all up about War and Fall of Stocks: but I won't trouble myself about Matters I can't help if I can help doing so. I should be much better pleased if you could come here some Evening when I can give you a Good Bed: a Chop: a glass of Sherry: and a Cigar. I suppose you won't or can't come; but I wish you could and would. Please to make my best Remembrances to Wife and Family. I often think of Mr. Prescott's human kindness, too. Yours ever E.FG. 1 Visiting 2 "What

his brother Peter. will be, will be," the motto of the Dukes of Bedford.

To E. B. Cowell 88 Gt. Portland. St., London Jan: 13.59 My dear Cowell, I have been here some five weeks: but before my Letter reaches you shall probably have slid back into the Country somewhere. This is my old Lodging, but new numbered. I have been almost alone here: having seen even Spedding and Donne but two or three times. They are well and go on as before. Spedding has got out the seventh volume of Bacon, I believe: with Capital Prefaces to Henry VII, etc. But I have not yet seen it. After Volume VIII (I think) there is to be a Pause:1 till Spedding has set the Letters to his Mind. Then we shall see what he can make of his Blackamoor. Donne has got home his Freddy from India, with an honourable Wound and a great Beard. I have not seen Carlyle: I suppose his Frederick2 has reached you; I don't care much about it. But it got to a second Edition rapidly, of which Mudie3 took a thousand Copies. Of

January 1859 Tennyson I know nothing but that he is well: Thackeray has been ill and very weary of his Virginians, I believe: of which I must say I was weary some while ago. Poor Austin of Hertford has just managed to keep afloat: but is selling away all his Publishing Stock and "Plant" now Hayleybury4 and Newton are gone, and that Goose Madden failed. I am almost ashamed to write to you, so much have I forsaken Persian, and even all good Books of late. There is no one now to "prick the Sides of my Intent";5 Vaulting Ambition having long failed to do so! I took my Omar from Fraser, as I saw he didn't care for it; and also I want to enlarge it to near as much again, of such Matter as he would not dare to put in Fraser. If I print it, I shall do the impudence of quoting your Account of Omar, and your Apology for his Free-think­ ing:6 it is not wholly my Apology, but you introduced him to me, and your excuse extends to that which you have not ventured to quote, and I do. I like your Apology extremely also, allowing its Point of View. I doubt you will repent of ever having showed me the Book. I should like well to have the Lithograph Copy of Omar7 which you tell of in your Note. My Translation has its merit: but it misses a main one in Omar, which I will leave you to find out. The Latin Versions (if they were corrected into decent Latin) would be very much better. Direct still to Geldestone Hall, Beccles—or Goldington Bury (not "Hall") Bedford. Love to the Lady. Yours ever, E.FG. I have forgotten to write out for you a little Quatrain which Binning8 found written in Persepolis; the Persian Tourists having the same propensity as English to write their Names and Sentiments on their National Monuments. 9

Binning is worth looking over—which is soon done. 1 Volumes VI and VII (1858-59) included the literary and professional works of Bacon. Spedding believed that Bacon's History of King Henry VII was the first to give a true picture of the king and his reign. There was no "Volume VIII"; Spedding published a seven-volume Life and Correspondence of Francis Bacon, 1861-74. 2 The first two volumes of Carlyle's six-volume Life of Frederick the Great had been published in 1858.

January 1859 3 Charles Edward Mudie (1818-90), bookseller, founder of Mudie's Lending Library, London. 4 The East India Company College, where Indian civil servants were trained, had been closed when the government of India was taken over by the Crown in 1858 after the Indian mutiny. Largely through the efforts of Stephen Austin, the school was reopened as Haileybury College in 1862. It is now known as Haileybury and Imperial Service College. The printing firm managed to "keep afloat" and now flourishes. 5

I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition. . . .

Macbeth, 1.7.26-28 An allusion to Cowell's "Omar Khayyam, the Astronomer-Poet of Persia" in the Calcutta Review, March, 1858, pp. 149-62. 7 A rare edition printed in Calcutta in 1836. Heron-Allen states that the volume was evidently printed from the original MS in the Bengal Asiatic Society's library, from which EFG's Calcutta transcript was made. The MS has disappeared (FUzGerald's Rubdiydt, 1899, p. x). 8 In Robert Binning's Journal of Two Years' Travel in Persia, Ceylon, etc., 1857, II, 20. 9 EFG translates the lines in a note to Quatrain 17, first edition; 18 in the fourth: β

This Palace that its Top to Heaven threw, And Kings their Forehead on its Threshold drew— I saw a Ring-dove sitting there alone, And "Coo, Coo, Coo," she cried, and "Coo, Coo, Coo." In Persian, Ku means "Where?"; Coo means "Is it?" Play on words, rarely possible in translation, is a characteristic of Persian poetry. For source of the quatrain, see letter to Cowell, Apr. 27, [1859], n.4.

To Stephen Spring Rice 88 Gt. Portland St. Saturday, [January 15,1859] My dear Spring Rice,

When I wrote you, I was deaf with a Cold: the Cold has gone, but the Deafness remains, so as I can hardly hear a Carriage roll, or a Voice articulate: "A Door seems shut between me" and all Sounds.1 I have been to an Aurist, who gives a Lotion which does as much good (if so much) as Milk and Water: I must see how this turns out before I bestow myself on you or anybody else whom I have a Regard for. At present I am a Bore. I made so little use of my Ears with my Fellow Men that this is perhaps a fair Judgment on me.

March 1859 I now think I told you of this before; but I have got worse since I wrote. I will write you word when I hear my way better—or worse. As to my Bed here—why, you should have mine which I know is Dry. But it may be better not to try, as Good Hearts are set against it. I wish you would remember me to Mr. Prescott, and believe me yours ever, E.FG. 1

In Memoriam, Lyric 28.

From William Monkhouse1 GolcUngton March 20 [1859] My dear FitzGerald, I wrote to you at Portland Street on Thursday to announce the solemn sentence which the Doctor has pronounced upon poor Browne.2 He was never quite aware, or at least convinced that he was given up until Friday night—on hearing which he cried like a Child. I had seen him on Saturday and Monday last. I read to him but it was very painful as he is nearly stone deaf. But I was never in a more difficult position than I was last night about half past 8 o'clock when I administered the sacrament to him and his wife. He is in no pain and is quite sensible but any moment may be his last. You may imagine the condition of his poor wife—no one with her—no one to whom she can reveal her troubles, and as a great climax to all the calamities in that misery-stricken [home] is that she is 5 or 6 months in the family way. Believe me yours very sincerely W. Monkhouse 1 Rector

of Goldington, Bedford. K. Browne had been crushed beneath his horse when it reared and fell on the return from a day's hunt, January 28. (See letter to Crabbe, Mar. 29.) EFG probably never received Monkhouse's first letter for he had recently vacated his rooms in Great Portland Street, for lodgings near Donne at Blackheath. 2 W.

March 1859

To W. B. Donne (Private) Goldington, Bedford, March 26 [1859] My dear Donne, Your Folks told you on what Errand I left your house so abruptly. I was not allowed to see W. B. the day I came: nor yesterday till 3 P.M. when, poor fellow, he tried to write a line to me—like a Child's!—and I went—and saw—no longer the gay Lad, nor the healthy Man, I had known: but a wreck of all that: a Face like Charles I (after decapita­ tion almost) above the Clothes: and the poor shattered Body under­ neath lying as it had lain eight weeks—such a case as the Doctor says he had never known. Instead of the light utterance of other days too, came the slow painful syllables in a far lower Key: and when the old familiar Words—"Old Fellow—Fitz"—etc., came forth so spoken, I broke down too in spite of foregone Resolution, and—Brandy. They thought he'd die last Night: but this Morning he is a little better: but no hope. He has spoken of me in the Night, and (if he wishes) I shall go again, provided his Wife and Doctor approve. But it agitates him: and Tears he could not wipe away came to his Eyes. The poor Wife bears up wonderfully. I should not perhaps have written all this to you: but here it is. You will anyhow be glad to hear from me on the subject. What I had to say beside is a very little matter. Namely that I left for your care at Parker's (with the Man at the Counter) a little plain Brooch which (if you think worth) you can give to Gertrude Kemble1 for me. It isn't worth thanking for: but I never give fine things and (as they have no house) can't give useful ones. If your girls think the Brooch too poor a thing, don't give her the Trouble of thanking me for what is not worth thanks. I called at Parker's twice to see you on Wednesday. Yours ever, E.FG. 1 Gertrude Kemble, daughter of John Mitchell Kemble, married Charles Santley, then just beginning his career as an operatic and concert baritone, on April 9, 1859.

March 1859

To George Crabbe Norwich March 29/59 My dear George, On Wednesday I was called to Goldington—saw WB on Thursday— Death in his Face and Voice—the Blooming Lad, and resolute Man I remembered now stretcht out on a Bed, for eight weeks—a mere shat­ tered Carcase below; and above the Sheets, a Face like—something like—Charles I—after Death! And to hear the old familiar Words, so lightly spoken (yet so truly) for so many Years—"My dear Fitz—old Fel-low," etc., now with difficulty articulated. The Doctors had given him over near a Week: and yet pressed him, and bid me press him, to eat, with even the faintest hope of out-weathering the Drain on his System from such Abscesses! He said to me—[two lines scratched out by FitzGerald] "But I eat all I can: and when I can't, they must take my Word for it." To his Wife too he said but two Days ago, "I am sure I am very good, and do what you tell me?" He read the 51st Psalm aloud at Midnight, his Nurse holding Book and Candle before him, a week ago: how could he have remembered there was that about the "broken bones" in it?1 But he was always observing, when no one gave him Credit for it. Once he had his Bed wheeled to the Window to look out abroad: but he saw the Hawthornes coming into Leaf, and he bid them take him back. The Wife has been inspired, as Women are, to lose all her own Weakness in his: but the Doctors dread the Effect on her— especially since she is four or five months gone with Child! No doubt it was thinking of all this that made him, with Tears he had scarce strength to wipe away, say to me concerning the Doctors' fatal An­ nouncement to himself, "They broke my Heart—but it was necessary." Well—after Friday he sunk to worse and worse: I still hanging about the House in case he ever should call for me again: yesterday his Pulse was almost gone: and I came away, wishing to be alone, or in other Company, when the Last came. So I am now going to Geldestone: and doubt not I shall have The Black Seal tomorrow morning.21 have taken away the little Riding Stick he used to visit me in London with. There was his new House all hung with the Pictures we had bought together for twenty years! So many Books too with "EFG to WKB" written within.3 Oh, the last words he wrote too were to me on Thursday Morning—in the Hand of a Child's First Attempt—to ask me to go to him. "I love you very—whenever—WKB."

March 1859 I write all this to you because you believe in him, I think. The Doctor told me he had never known such a Case, and so pa­ tiently endured. And think of the complication of little Accidents that went to make up the Whole. That one Morning a Curb Bridle had been put on, that his Mare could ill endure: a high-pommeled Saddle scarce ever used: and he had stopt to remonstrate with a Man who was pun­ ishing the Horse that kicked his own: and her hind Legs slipt under her on the shelving wet Turf by the Road side as she reared! Such a Life lost by such an Accident. I am detained here in uncertainty about any Conveyance from Haddiscoe to Beccles: but I shall make a Push for it in an hour or two. In the meanwhile I am not sorry to write some Letters quietly—this among the Number. Let me hear of you at Geldestone. Yours E.FG. 1 "Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice." Psalms, 51:8. 2 Browne died the following day, i.e., the 30th. 3 One of the books was EFG's Euphranor. To the inscription he added, "This little book would never have been written, had I not known my dear friend William Browne, who, unconsciously, supplied the moral. E.F.G., Goldington, March 27,1859" (T. Wright, Life, I, 237).

To Bernard Quaritch Geldestone Hall, Beccles March 31159 Sir, I have been so harried about in Mind and Body too by the Fatal Illness of a Friend,1 I have not had opportunity to see, or write to you. Not that I had much to say—only I wished to ask you to Advertize Omar Khayydm in the Athenaeum and any other Paper you think good: sending Copies of course to the Spectator, etc. The Title outside the Pamphlet will of course do for the Advt Also will you please post your little Manx Dictionary2 to the Revd W Monkhouse, Goldington, Bedford. And lastly will you let me know what all this costs, and I will return a P.O. Order. Yours truly, Edward FitzGerald

April 1859 I will shortly let you know where to send me my Copies of Omar. 1 The letter was written the day following Browne's death. EFG had also been engaged with lawyers, drawing up his will and providing, separately, an annuity for his wife. 2 A Practical Grammar of the Antient Gaelic or Language of the Isle of Man, usually called Manks, 1804, by the Reverend John Kelly, had just been republished by the Manx Society.

FitzGerald had retrieved his abbreviated version of the Rubdiydt from Fraser's Magasdne in the closing weeks of 1858.1 He added forty quatrains to the thirty-five in the manuscript, and the first edition was printed by February 15.2 Publication was announced in March issues of trade journals, and the British Museum received its required copy March 30. Literary journals carried advertisements of the book in their April 9 issues. That in the Athenaeum read: Just published, price Is. Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, the Astronomer-Poet of Persia, translated into EnglishVerse. B. Quaritch, London, Castle Street Leicester Square As will be seen, editors of periodicals were less prompt in publicizing the work. Rubdiyat is the plural of the word rubdi, the stanza form in which Persian epigrammatic verse is written. The ai is pronounced as long i; the accent is on the last syllable. The rubai consists of two lines divided into hemistichs which, normally, rhyme a,a,b,a, thereby corresponding to an English quatrain. 1 See

letters to Cowell, Dec. 8,1857, Sept. 3 and Nov. 2,1858. Notes for a Bibliography, p. 21.

2 Prideaux,

To Bernard Quaritch Geldestone Hall, Beccles April 1 [1859] Dear Sir, Please to send an Advertisement of Omar to the Saturday Review. Yours truly, Edward FitzGerald

April 1859

To Bernard Quaritch Geldestone Hall, Beccles April 5/59 Dear Sir, I enclose an Order to pay you Advts in the Saturday Review, Athenaeum, and any other Weekly Paper you like (Spectator?) as also for any other incidental Expenses regarding Omar. I wish him to do you as little harm as possible, if he does no good. I shall be obliged to you to send me forty copies directed here by Eastern Rail1 and then I hope shall give you no more Trouble in this Matter. I wish much you could get me a Copy of the Manx Dicty which I want to give a Friend. Yours truly, Edward FitzGerald 1 In an undated letter to John Glyde, now in the Ipswich Public Library, Quaritch wrote, "Mr. FitzGerald brought me 200 copies (he probably had printed 250 and kept 50) and made me a present of them." This is evidently the basis of Glyde's account, often repeated, of Quaritch's receipt of the first edition: "In 1859, Edward FitzGerald went to the shop of Mr. Bernard Quaritch . . . and dropped a heavy parcel there, saying, 'Quaritch, I make you a present of these books'" (Glyde, Life of FitzGerald, p. 169). EFG's letter and the postscript to his letter of March 31 make it clear that the entire edition was delivered to Quaritch. The implication that the books were a surprise gift that FitzGerald himself carried into the shop provides a dramatic touch which taxes belief. EFG bore the cost of printing, but, since Quaritch's name appears on the title page as publisher, delivery of the books could hardly have been a surprise. Nor was it likely that FitzGerald would serve as delivery boy for a Maiden Lane printer.

To Alfred Tennyson Geldestone Hall, Beccles April 5/ 59 My dear Alfred, I hope you never believe I forget you: or think little about you. In more ways than one you are often in my Thoughts. You won't think this Nonsense, though I give so little actual Proof of it by going to look for you. I really go nowhere now: and there is no use trying. But all this is not Indolence—and I don't care what you impute it to (if

April 1859 you ever think twice of so little a Matter) so long as you don't think I have forgotten you, or am not willing to take the Trouble to go to you, my dear old Alfred. I have lost the Lad W. Browne you used to see at my Rooms. He was grown into as sagacious, just, and useful, a Man as one could find, and just got to the Time of Life to prove it. Coming home from Hunt­ ing the end of January, his Horse was kicked by another: reared, and her hind Legs slipping under her, she fell over and on him, crushing all the middle of his Body. He lived two months with a Patience and Vitality that would have left most Men to die in a Week (the Doctors told me) and then gave up his Ghost. I went to see him just before the End: and have now much less to care about. But I repeat I don't the less care for you and old Spedding and two or three more. I want to know about Frederick in these troubled Times. It is not my Fault that I don't learn from himself: for I have written him two Letters in the last two Years with no Answer. You also won't answer this; but [Remainder of letter missing]

To George Crabbe Geldestone, Beccles April 13/59 My dear George,

My poor Master was buried this Day week—Airy reading the Serv­ ice: the Funeral very quiet and solemn. I have had a kind Letter from Barlow offering me his House1 to live in while he is away on Service. But I dare not meddle with it. You see all the Bredfield Estate is to be sold—eight Lots—in June. Barlow says he would like if he could to buy the Farm by Hasketon Church. Were you not telling me he once thought of selling his own, and going to Corsica! Thank you always for asking me to Merton. I will not go at present but shall hope to do so when your Sisters are there. I would go and lodge at Watton, unless you could find me a Room at that Farmhouse along your Lane going to Thompson. I shall run over soon to Ipswich and Woodbridge; but at present the Weather leaves one best here. Charles Cowell is going to be married to the eldest Miss Clowes: a good Match in all ways, I think.

April 1859 I write so ill because I am cold up in my Bedroom. So no more at present from Yours truly E.FG. 2 I duly finisht and signed my will before I left London. 1 The

Shrubbery, Hasketon. provisions of the will, the first of three drawn for EFG, are not known. His wife is not named among the beneficiaries in "Notes for Will" written by EFG in 1866, now in the Syracuse University Library, nor in his final will drawn up nine weeks before his death. When he was about to sign the first will, he spent three or four days in Kent, where his wife was living. Except for a few chance en­ counters in Woodbridge, this was the sole meeting of the two after their separation. The purpose of the trip to Kent could have been to propose assigning to Lucy the income from £, 10,000 he is known to have settled on her. The arrangement pro­ vided an annuity of £.300 until her death in 1898 at the age of 90. 2 The

To E. B. Cowell Geldestone Hall, Beccles April 27 [1859] My dear Cowell, Above is the Address you had better direct to in future. I have had a great Loss. W. Browne was fallen upon and half crushed by his horse near three months ago: and though the Doctors kept giving hopes while he lay patiently for two months in a condition no one else could have borne for a Fortnight, at last they could do no more, nor Nature neither: and he sunk. I went to see him before he died—the comely spirited Boy I had known first twenty-seven years ago lying all shat­ tered and Death in his Face and Voice. Poor Mrs. Browne rose up from her own weak health to wait on him Day and Night! and even now when he has gone has not yet shown the Reaction that was anticipated by the Doctors. And she five months and more gone with Child. Well, this is so: and there is no more to be said about it. It is one of the things that reconcile me to my own stupid Decline of Life—to the crazy state of the World. Well—no more about it. I sent you poor old Omar who has his kind of Consolation for all these Things. I doubt you will regret you ever introduced him to me. And yet you would have me print the original, with many worse things than I have translated. The Bird Epic1 might be finisht at once: but "cui bono?" No one cares for such things: and

June 1859 there are doubtless so many better things to care about. I hardly know why I print any of these things, which nobody buys; and I scarce now see the few I give them to. But when one has done one's best, and is sure that the best is better than so many will take pains to do, though far from the best that might be done, one likes to make an end of the matter by Print. I suppose very few People have ever taken such Pains in Translation as I have: though certainly not to be literal. But at all Cost, a Thing must live: with a transfusion of one's own worse Life if one can't retain the Original's better. Better a live Sparrow than a stuffed Eagle. I shall be very well pleased to see the new MS. of Omar.2 I shall one day (if I live) print the "Birds," and a strange experiment on old Calderon's two great Plays;3 and then shut up Shop in the Poetic Line. Adieu: Give my love to the Lady: and believe me yours very truly E.FG. You see where those Persepolitan Verses come from.4 I wonder you were not startled with the metre, though maimed a bit. 1 Attar's

Mantic u-Tair. a manuscript, but the 1836 Calcutta printed edition. 3 El Mdgico Prodigioso and La Vida es Suefio. 4 EFG had discovered that the quatrain from Binning which he quoted in his letter to Cowell of January 13, 1859, was a corrupt version of one of Omar's quatrains in the Calcutta MS. No. 419. See closing paragraph of EFG's note to Quatrain 17, 1st ed. 2 Not

To Thomas Carlyle Geldestone Hall, Beccles June 20/59 Dear Carlyle, Very soon after I called and saw Mrs. Carlyle I got a violent Cold, which (being neglected) flew to my Ears, and settled into such a Deaf­ ness I couldn't hear the Postman knock nor the Omnibus roll. When I began (after more than a Month) to begin recovering of this (though still so deaf as to determine not to be a Bore to any one else) I heard from Bedford that my poor W. Browne (who got you a Horse some fifteen years ago) had been fallen on and crushed all through the middle Body by one of his own: and I then kept expecting every Postman's Knock was to announce his Death. He kept on however in a

June 1859 shattered Condition which the Doctors told me scarce any one else would have borne a Week; kept on for near two Months, and then gave up his honest Ghost. I went to bid him Farewell: and then came here (an Address you remember), only going to Lowestoft (on the Sea) to entertain my old George Crabbe's two Daughters, who, now living inland, are glad of a sight of the old German Sea, and also per­ haps of poor Me. I return to Lowestoft (for a few days only) tomorrow, and shall perhaps see the Steam of your Ship passing the Shore.11 have always been wanting to sail to Scotland: but my old Fellow-traveller is gone! His Accident was the more vexatious as quite unnecessary— so to say—returning quietly from Hunting. But there's no use talking of it. Your Destinies and Silences have settled it. I really had wished to go and see Mrs. Carlyle again: I won't say you, because I don't think in your heart you care to be disturbed; and I am glad to believe that, with all your Pains, you are better than any of us, I do think. You don't care what one thinks of your Books: you know I love so many: I don't care so much for Frederick so far as he's gone: I suppose you don't neither. I was thinking of you the other Day reading in Aubrey's Wiltshire2 how he heard Cromwell one Day at Dinner (I think) at Hampton Court say that Devonshire showed the best Farming of any Part of England he had been in. Did you know all the Dawson Turner Letters?3 I see Spedding directs your Letter: which is nearly all I see of his MS.: though he would let me see enough of it if there were a good Turn to be done. Please do give my best Remembrances to Mrs. Carlyle, and believe me yours sincerely, Edward FitzGerald 1 Two

days later Carlyle went to Scotland by sea and spent the summer in Fife. Aubrey, Collections for Wiltshire, Sir T. Phillips, ed., 1821. 3 Five Cromwell letters had been sold in the auction of Turner's MS. collection June 6-10. Turner had died the previous year. 2 John

When the Rubaiyat was published in March, Quaritch sent copies to the leading literary journals. For almost a century it was believed that the poem was ignored by reviewers until Charles Eliot Norton pub­ lished a commendatory critique of the second edition in the North American Review for October, 1869. A similar review appeared the following June in Fraser's Magazine which, incidentally, had rejected FitzGeralds first attempt to publish Omar's quatrains. However, the Rubaiyat had not been completely ignored in 1859. In the course of

1. William Makepeace Thackeray, painted for EFG by Samuel Laurence

2. Alfred Tennyson, painted for EFG by Samuel Laurence

3. Thomas Churchyard and his daughter Laura

4. Samuel Laurence in his studio (c. 1882-83). Posed before his full-length posthumous portrait of Thackeray, commissioned by the Reform Club in 1881. Small portrait to his right is of the Prince of Wales.

5. William Bodham Donne (c. 1860)

6. Bernard Barton

7. The Kerrich family (EFG's nieces)

8. Oil portrait of William Kenworthy Browne by Samuel Laurence

8b. Thomas Carlyle

October 1859 research on Victorian periodicals, Michael Wolff of the University of Indiana found that the leading trade journals announced publication of the work in their April issues; and that the Athenaeum had commented on the poem June 11. Of greater moment was his discovery that the Rubaiyat had been ably reviewed in the Literary Gazette of October I.1 The Athenaeum notice was a minor item in "Our Library Table," a weekly column of reviews, some brief, some minuscule. "We must dismiss categorically a number of narrative and dramatic poems, slight in texture and slighter in pretensions," the critic wrote to conclude his column. Commentaries, one or two sentences in length include: "Nat­ urally, there is an abundance of gorgeous imagery in Rubuitjat of Omar Khayyam, the Astronomer Poet of Persia, translated into English Verse (Quaritch ), with an excellent biographical introduction."2 Exactly half of the statement is transcribed, with one deviation, from the title page. The Literary Gazette critic read his copy, including the title, with greater care, finding aesthetic qualities to praise despite total lack of sympathy with Omar's "crushing fatalism" and heterodoxy. "Nothing," the reviewer stated, "can be more dreary than the merriment in which he seeks to drown his despair, and nothing more beautiful than the manner in which he discourses of both. . . . The poet maintains that man must be unaccountable, because he has not the choice of his ac­ tions; . . .he is tossed as a ball, to and fro, and . . . must go left or right as he is impelled. . . . A melancholy creed, but one which, after his own tragical fashion, the poet contrived to make merry. We must thank the modest translator of this powerful and original poet for the valuable contribution—slight, so far as its bulk is concerned, though it be— which he has made to our current literature."3 1 For 2 3

the text of Wolff's paper see Victorian News Letter, spring, I960, pp. 4-6. Athenaeum, June 11, 1859, p. 776. Literary Gazette, Oct. 1, 1859, p. 326.

To George Crabbe Bath House, Lowestoft Wed., October 4/59 [October 5] My dear George, You will wonder at my so sudden Return to these Parts. I got to Duncan's1 on Monday week, September 26. They were very glad to see

October 1859 me, kind in entertaining, and anxious I should stay: but the remote and wild Country, without good Roads or Walks, and no Town near, and a perpetual Rain—hung heavy upon me. I had done what I promised, and, I believe, what Good was to be done (for Duncan's Exhilaration does not last long); so I broke through all further Entreaty, and ran away on Saturday. But five Days to travel 300 Miles for. But I had also found my Ears growing dim—I think from the Wet—and went to an Aurist in London whom I had been told of but never tried, and he said indeed they were much shaken: but he had known others who had lost hearing from such an Attack as I had. He has given me Advice, and a Lotion, to go on with, and says I must take care. Thus, even had I been sure your Sisters were yet at Bradford last Saturday, I might not have gone: for it rained all Day, and seemed likely to rain on for Days more; so up to London I went: saw Peter, Donne, Spedding, and Laurence (who paints just as he did twenty years ago), and came down here yesterday. I should have gone to Woodbridge, but heard Mrs. Smith was at Point of Death: and on coming here heard she died on Sunday Night. Churchyard has brought his Wife here, to my old Lodgings; and I have taken these little Rooms for a week: and shall stay longer if they suit. I am rather badly off for Books: and may have to ask you to send my Persian Dictionary and old Burton. Chaucer I don't want: and am glad you should take to him. I told you of the Tales I thought would please you: The Clerk of Oxford's (Grisildis'), the Pardoner's, and the Knight and Squire. Read also all the Prologue Narrative between the Tales. One must feel Chaucer is akin to Shakespeare in his Human Sympathy and Activity of Life, but he has not sounded such Depths of Thought or Feeling. I bought the last Edition of Richardson: rather larger and less handy than yours. I had proposed hunting for several Books: but ran away from Town before doing so. It was very hot: and I wanted to make no more Calls! Spedding, however, as immutably calm, wise, and kind, as ever. Laurence was making a good Picture of him, so far as Drawing goes. I saw no Pictures: except a genuine Stubbs for £,6; but all inferior to Barlow's, which I am assured is a very choice one. Is it not strange Barlow has never written to me in Answer to my Letter pro­ posing to keep the new Farm distinct, and I could not make out that he had ever named it to his Brother, to whom I had desired him to name it. Anyhow, the Brother knew nothing of the Matter: but only "sup­ posed that Frederic never had contemplated merging the new Farm with the old" and I having stipulated for a written Clause that he should not. One must admit this is a somewhat ungracious way of

October 1859 transacting a Business in which all the Advantage is for himself. But a dishonest Man would have found it easy to be over-civil. Remember me to the Ladies and believe me Yours very sincerely E.FG. Mrs. Browne is still here, but goes on Thursday. I am just going to visit her. 1 Francis Duncan, Rector at West Chelborough, Dorset. EFG had visited him in 1847 also.

To George Borrow Bath House, Lowestoft October 10/59 Dear Borrow, This time last year I was here and wrote to ask about you. You were gone to Scotland. Well, where are you now? As I also said last year: "If you be in Yarmouth and have any mind to see me I will go over some day; or here I am if you will come here." And I am quite alone. As it is I would bus it to Yarmouth but I don't know if you and yours be there at all, nor if there, whereabout. If I don't hear at all I shall suppose you are not there, on one of your excursions, or not wanting to be rooted out; a condition I too well understand. I was at Gorleston some months ago for some while; just after losing my greatest friend, the Bedfordshire lad who was crushed to death, coming home from hunting, his horse falling on him. He survived indeed two months, and I had been to bid him eternal adieu, so had no appetite for anything but rest—rest—rest. I have just seen his widow off from here. With kind regards to the ladies, Yours very truly, Edward FitzGerald

To George Crabbe Bath House, Lowestoft Thursday [October 13,1859] My dear George, When I wrote you my Note to ask about meeting at Norwich I had not had yours telling me you had just been there with C. Sparkman.1

October 1859 Therefore, don't go again on my Account: but, in case you have to go, I will in all Probability meet you there: as I want to go over one Day. I suppose there's no Use asking you here: else, here's Bed and Board for you. The Weather has been ugly: today is lovely. Do you mean that Head of Tennyson I gave to Mrs. Tennyson?2 or rather gave till she got a better: which, with all its Defect, I don't think she's like to get. I doubt if Laurence should be encouraged in Painting: which he seems to me to do worse than twenty years ago. Mrs. Kemble says the Americans like his Drawings, but won't have his Oil at any Price. I only saw two of his Drawings: and they exactly (so far as I could see) such as when first I knew him. He has made no Progress to my Eyes. Churchyard has been away for three Days: but returns here to his Business today. My Sister3 talks of calling here on Saturday: but I don't ask any of them at present, and won't go to Gel'son. Here is a fine Day to open Beccles Church in. The great Mr. Ryle4 is here for the health of his mortal Body: and the Season therefore can't be said to be over. Yours E.FG. Mrs. Browne went two Days ago. I am glad I saw her. 1 The Reverend Charles Sparkman, of Southam, Warwickshire, widower of Crabbe's sister Kate, with whom Caroline and Mary Crabbe had made their home since their father's death. 2 EFG's portrait of Tennyson by Samuel Laurence. 3 Eleanor Kerrich. 4 John Charles Ryle (1816-1900), later Bishop of Liverpool.

To Mrs. CowelI Lowestoft October 15/59 Dear Mrs. CoweU, I owe you Reply to two Letters: but that which should have brought the Ballad is not come. I will do what I can in suggesting, which is, you know, all I undertake. I have received your Husband's Julian,1 which I don't reckon myself a proper Judge of: but, as far as I can tell, 'tis very good. Have Tennyson's King's Idylls2 reached you yet? It seems to me they might almost [have] been written by Matthew Ar­ nold: but I shouldn't dare say so within fifty Miles of London.

October 1859 In London I have been but two Days these seven months: catching a Sight of Donne, Spedding, and Laurence the Painter—who is come over for a Sight of England from America, and paints and draws (so far as I saw) much as he did when he first went out. Spedding goes on steadily with his Bacon: Donne writes away right and left in Reviews. I think I wrote you word his Mother was dead—oh, yes, I posted Donne a Letter you wrote him on the Occasion, and with which he was much pleased. They are now removed from Blackheath into London:3 and are fearing to lose Freddy again for India—Another Death. Did I tell you Mrs. Smith of Farlingay was so ill of Diarrhea for four months: first overset, I believe, by the Illness and Death of her Daughter Emma in the earlier Part of the Year. Well, Mrs. Smith, after bearing with great Resistance an Illness that would have killed most others in half the time, died about a Fortnight ago. I have a Letter from Alfred [Smith] today telling me his Father holds up very well. I dare say I shall be at Farlingay ere long. I have just come here after paying a Visit to an old Fellow-Collegian in Dorset—a Visit promised twelve years, and paid in but five days! Before this, I was at Ipswich and made acquaintance with your new Sister, Mrs. C[harles] C[owell]—a well-omen'd Marriage on both sides, I do believe, in this World of Blunders. I have very little to tell of Myself—very little of my Reading etc. I yet propose one Day to finish two or three Translations4 now scrawled out (which I will send you if ever they be finisht) and then to shut up Shop in that way. The Play isn't worth the Candle: for they give me a good deal of Trouble: which, however, one must add is Occupation and Amusement. But then one is tempted to print by way of washing one's Hands of the Thing: and I think I ought to have done with that. Norgate told me of a Book of Max Miiller's5 he was about the print: but I have forgotten what it was. I remember thinking, from what he told me of the Subject, that I should like to have it. Here I am by the old cold German Sea. Mr. Churchyard is here too for awhile sketching when he ought, I suppose, to be at his Law Stool. But his Wife is here for Health's Sake and four of the six Daughters for Company. Geldestone, or Farlingay, will serve still for my Address. Yours truly E.FG. 1 "The Emperor Julian, a lecture to native young men," published two years later. 2 The Idylls of the King, published in July. 3 To 40 Weymouth Street, Portland Place W.

October 1859 4 Of

Agamemnon by Aeschylus and of El Mdgico Prodigioso and La Vida es Suerio by Calder6n. 5 History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature.

To Mrs. Charles Allen Lowestoft October 16/59 My dear Mrs. Allen, In passing through London a week ago I found a very kind letter from you directed to my London Lodging. This will explain why it has not been sooner answered. As I do not know your Address, I take the Opportunity of enclosing my Reply to John Allen, of whom I have not heard since May. I have been in these Suffolk and Norfolk Parts ever since I left London in March to see my poor Lad die in Bedford. The Lad I first met in the Tenby Lodging house twenty-seven years ago—not sixteen then—and now broken to Pieces and scarce conscious, after two months such suffering as the Doctor told me scarce any one would have borne for a Fortnight. They never told him it was all over with him until [within] ten Days of Death: though every one else seem'd to know it must be so—and he did not wish to die yet. I wont write more of a Matter that you can have but little Interest in, and that I am as well not thinking about. I came here partly to see his Widow, and so (as I hope) to avoid having to go to Bedford for the Present. She, though a wretchedly sickly woman, and within two months of her confinement when he died, has somehow weathered it all beyond Expectation. She has her Children to attend to, and be her comfort in turn: and though having lost what most she loved yet has something to love still, and to be beloved by. There are worse Con­ ditions than that. I am not going to be long here: but hope to winter somewhere in Suffolk (London very distasteful now)—But here again:—my good Hostess with whom I have lodged in Suffolk is dead too: and I must wait till that Household settles down a little. If it ever gives you pleasure to write to me, it gives me real Pleasure to hear of you: and I am sincerely grateful for your kind Remembrance of me. "Geldestone Hall, Beccles" or "Farlingay Hall, Woodbridge," are

October 1859 pretty sure Addresses. Please to remember me kindly to your Husband and believe me Yours very sincerely, Edwa FitzGerald

To Stephen Spring Rice Lowestoft October [24], 1859 My dear Spring Rice, You don't think I forget you? I have heard you have left the Board of Customs and are supposed to be settling down under your own Vine in Ireland.1 So much I heard three months ago: and I think your Cousin Aubrey de Vere said as much three weeks ago, when I caught a glimpse of him sitting for his Picture to Laurence at Spedding's. Spedding's Self also was being done: both good Likenesses, I thought: but Laurence never will paint and had better give that up. I really thought his colour worse than twenty years ago: his Drawing just the same: and he himself doesn't look a Day older though he has a Beard in which a Wren might build. Mrs. Kemble told Donne the Americans, who like his Chalks won't have his Colours at any Price.2 I had a Letter from Mrs. Frere some while ago, telling little of any of her Family (save Philip's Wedding)3 but the humour of the Note showing the Spirit of half a Century back in Herself. Of Myself I have nothing to tell. I lost my poor Bedford Lad in the Spring. This has made a Hole in Life to me. Since then I have been all in these Counties: except a Rush into Dorset to see an old FellowCollegian (before your Time) whom I had promised a Visit to for twelve years, and paid it in—five Days! You know Lowestoft? Have anchored off it in the Vigilant4 perhaps. I sometimes try and remember the name of your Captain, but can't. Here I sit all alone in a Lodging: very dull and stupid: but one must be content not to be sick and miserable. I told you how I was made deaf in the Spring by a Cold which actually made my Ears bleed, and has left them rickety still. So as the next Cold will tickle them up again, I suppose. I have no Account to give of Reading—so little have I read. Some Chaucer and Shakespeare with great Wonder and some Pleasure: that is, as much Pleasure as one gets nowadays. I have not read Adam Bede5

October 1859

which People say is capital: one hopes to hear it read some Evening by some charitable Niece. Mowbray Donne told me he couldn't make out that anyone went on reading the Virginians, which I gave up a year ago. By the bye I saw Mowbray Donne fall down flat and senseless in Spedding's Rooms after smoking one of your prime Cigars. Then Freddy (the Soldier) smoked two, and stood to his Guns. Thompson (said Spedding) had almost been floored by one. I see in the Athe­ naeum that a French Doctor gives awful Accounts of the consequences of Tobacco.6 Well—second Sheet done—"Nought's had—all Spent." I shall be here about ten Days more: else address one day to Farlingay Hall, Woodbridge, where I may return ere long, or where I may be heard of. But write here at once if you can. Do you know of a Lord Mornington?7 A very vulgar-looking old roue Dandy walks about here with two French Women who, I am told, are Lord M. and his Mistress and her Sister. The Women are the only well-drest and well walking Women in the Place: and I took them all for some French Poulterer, Hair-dresser, or Modiste's Family from London come to show us Bumpkins how to dress and behave. Please remember me to your Wife and Girls, and believe me yours as ever Edward FitzGerald 1 111 health had compelled Spring Rice to resign as deputy chairman of the Board of Customs. He had retired to his father's home, Mt. Trenchard, Limerick. 2 Laurence had been in America from late 1853 until 1859. He had studios in New York City and Newport, Rhode Island, and also traveled extensively. Long­ fellow and George Bancroft, the historian, were among those who sat for him. In "Samuel Laurence, A Catalogue Raisonne" Frank Miles of London notes "some forty portraits done in America, but this must be a very small fraction of the total." Mr. Miles has given to the National Portrait Gallery a typescript copy of his catalogue and photographs of many Laurence portraits. 3 Philip Frere, Spring Rice's brother-in-law, Bursar of Downing College, mar­ ried Emily, daughter of Henry Gipps, Canon of Carlisle, August 2, 1859. 4 A revenue cutter in which Spring Rice sailed while a member of the Board of Customs. 5 Published by George EIiot in 1859. β Tobacco: its History and Associations, by F. W. Fairholt, reviewed in the Athenaeum, July 16, 1859, pp. 76-77. 7 William Arthur Pole-Tylney Long-WelIesIey (1813-63), who had succeeded as Earl of Mornington in 1857. He was a grand-nephew of the Duke of Wellington.

October 1859

To Mrs. Charles Allen Bath House, Lowestoft October 26, [1859] Dear Mrs. Allen, I must thank you for your so kind Letter, and kind Invitation. But if I was but five Days with my old College Friend after twelve years' Promise, and then didn't go just on to Teignmouth to see my Sister, and her Family, I must not talk of going elsewhere—even to Prees— where John is always good enough to be asking me: even in a Letter To-day received. By the way, Last Saturday at Norwich while I was gazing into a Shop, a Woman's Voice said, "How d'ye do, Mr. FitzGerald?" I looked up: a young Woman too, whom (of course) I didn't know. "You don't remember me, Andalusia Alien1 that was!" Now Mrs. Day. I had not seen her since '52, a Girl of, I suppose, twelve, playing some Character in a Family Play.2 John's Letter too tells me of his Son going to College. But Tenby—I don't remember a pleasanter Place. I can now hear the Band on the Steamer as it left the little Pier for Bristol, the Steamer that brought me and the poor Boy now in his Grave to that Boarding house. It was such weather as now howls about this Lodging when οήβ of those poor starved Players was drowned on the Sands, and was carried past our Windows after Dinner: I often remember the dull Trot of Men up the windy Street, and our running to the Window, and the dead Head, hair, and Shoulders hurried past. That was Tragedy, poor Fellow, whatever Parts he had played before. I think you remember me with Kindness because accidentally as­ sociated with your old Freestone in those pleasant Days, that also were among the last of your Sister's3 Life. Her too I can see, with her Chinarose complexion: in the Lilac Gown she wore. I keep on here from Week to week, partly because no other Place offers: but I almost doubt if I shall be here beyond next week. Not in this Lodging anyhow: which is wretchedly "rafty" and cold; lets the Rain in when it Rains: and the Dust of the Shore when it drives: as both have been doing by turns all Yesterday and To-day. I was cursing all this as I was shivering here by myself last Night: and in the Morning I hear of three Wrecks off the Sands, and indeed meet five shipwreckt Men with a Troop of Sailors as I walk out before Break­ fast. Oh Dear!

November 1859 Please remember me to your "Gude Man" and believe me yours truly. E.FG. Pray do excuse all this Blotting: my Paper won't dry To-day. 1 One

of John Allen's eight daughters. daughter Margaret recalled "acting in a French play which he [EFG] wrote for our amusement as children [condensed from Moore's L'Etourdi], . . . I have also heard my sister say that he would call himself Mme Squallini and act an Italian opera singer with a great many superfluous runs and trills" (MS letter from Margaret Allen to John Glyde, July 30, 1897, Ipswich Library). 3 Anne Allen. See letter to Allen, Nov. 8, 1833, n.7. 2 Allen's

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft November 24,'59 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, I don't deserve a Letter—you having, I think, so many to write in answer to Enquiries concerning you both. Only, if you should have a few idle minutes for two or three weeks to come—here am I who will be glad to hear of your both being well. I think about twice a Year I write to ask this: and you are generally kind enough to let me know. Don't suppose I don't care to know because I only write to ask about it. My bodily Enquiries are almost done with. What has immediately put the Pen into my hand for this Purpose is, that I have been reading this Evening in Hakluyt's Voyages1 an old Name of one of /y\ his Heroines—Anacaona.2 Did you ever hear of her? I see she fared better than his old Poem made out. I suppose he read, or heard of, these things in Hakluyt thirty years ago, or very nearly— at Cambridge, in the old Days of Milk punch! I suppose there can scarce be a greater contrast to your beautiful Sapphire Sea than this dirty Ditch here—kept always yellow and tame by a Shoal about one and a half Miles out that runs from here to Yarmouth—not your Yarmouth. This Shoal causes such easy riding to Ships within shore of it in some Winds, that the Sailors call the Tract it hedges in"Abrahams Bosom."3 But at other Times it plays the Deuce with them—there have been many Wrecks in the last Month: Crews brought off, and the poor Ship left visibly rolling about on the Sands, going to Pieces. This Place has doubled its Size in twenty years, and become to have great Visitation in "The Season" but that's all over: not

November 1859 a Soul here but the Sailors, who are a very fine Race of Men. It is dull enough: but what is one come to? I am now contented to be but Dull, if that's all—no express Pain or Bother. I want to avoid London this Winter, having lost my old Companion in its Streets and Taverns; and may as well try and get on here. I went however six weeks ago into Dorsetshire to pay a twelve year's promised Visit to an old Friend: and paid it in four Days! Then Back again! Parker, the disagreeable young Bookseller, told me Frederick was going to live in Jersey or Guernsey.4 He (Frederick) has cut me, or has never had the three or four Letters I have written him. In London too there was dear old Spedding duly victimising himself to Laurence—who seem'd to me to be drawing just as when he left England, and painting worse than twenty-five years ago. He shouldn't meddle with Colours, I think. 1 saw in some Newspaper that "we understand the Laureate has just return'd from Cintra: of which we may expect to reap, etc."5 Is this so, however? Have you too been? Well now here's enough of my writing with this vile Metal Pen. Don't write an Answer if unwell, busy, or disinclined: but believe me yours and Alfred's ever sincerely and truly E.FG. 1Richard

Hakluyt (1552P-1616), Principall Navigations, Voiages, and Dis­ coveries of the English Nation, 3 vols., 1598-1600. 2 A poem which Henry Alford records Tennyson read to his Cambridge friends as early as 1830 (Life of Dean Alford, by his widow, 1874, p. 61). The poem was first published in the Tennyson Memoir, 1897, I, 56-58. 3 Luke 16:22. 4 Frederick moved to Jersey in 1859. 5 Tennyson had gone to Spain and Portugal with F. T. Palgrave the middle of August intending to visit North Africa also, but "the flies and fleas proved too much" for him (Charles Tennyson, Tennyson, pp. 319-20).

To W. H. Thompson 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft November 27, [1859] My dear Thompson, After a Fortnight's Visit to my Sister's (where I caught Cold which flew at once to my Ears, and there hangs) I returned hither, as the nearest Place to go to, and here shall be till Xmas at all Events. I wish

November 1859 to avoid London this winter: and indeed seem almost to have done with it, except for a Day's Business or Sightseeing every now and then. Often should I like to roam about old Cambridge, and hear St. Mary's Chimes at Midnight—but—but! This Place of course is dull enough: but here's the Old Sea (a dirty Dutch one, to be sure) and Sands, and Sailors, a very fine Race of Men, far superior to those in Regent Street. Also the Dutchmen (an ugly set whom I can't help liking for old Neighbours) come over in their broad Bottoms and take in Water at a Creek along the Shore. But I believe the East Winds get very fierce after Xmas, when the Sea has cooled down. You won't come here, to be sure: or I should be very glad to smoke a Cigar, and have a Chat: and would take care to have a Fire in your Bedroom this time: a Negligence I was very sorry for in London. I read, or was told, they wouldn't let old Alfred's Bust1 into your Trinity. They are right, I think, to let no one in there (as it should be in Westminster Abbey) till a hundred Years are past; when, after too much Admiration (perhaps) and then a Reaction of undue Disesteem, Men have settled into some steady Opinion on the subject: supposing always that the Hero survives so long, which of itself goes so far to decide the Question. No doubt A. T. will do that. I also saw or heard of a Subscription for the Lanthorn of Ely,2 in honor [of] the "Brave Bird"3 now roosting aloft, we will hope. If this be so, I should like to give my £-10 (if that Old Woman's Driblet will help to launch the Ship) in honour of the Dean, and the Cathedral, and one of the Canons.4 I have just spent Is. on Macmillan's Magazine:5 but somehow don't care to meddle much with it. Lushington and Venables6 are pleasant: but somehow always just fail of nicking the Point. Why can't I read Tom Brown: nor Adam Bede. Can you? [No signature] 1 The 1857 bust by Thomas Woolner, offered to the college for its chapel. The bust is now in the college library. 2 A turret atop Ely Cathedral enclosed by colored glass. 3 George Peacock, who had been EFG's tutor at Trinity. As Dean of Ely, he had initiated an extensive program of restoration for the Cathedral. He had died in 1858. 4 Thompson had been a canon of Ely since 1853. 5 The first number of the magazine, Nov., 1859. 6 Macmillan's was one of the first magazines to publish only signed contribu­ tions. The first issue contained "Cobbett; or, A Rural Ride," a poem written in collaboration by Henry Lushington and George Venables, Cantabs, both known to EFG, and the first installment of Tom Broum at Oxford by Thomas Hughes.

December 1859

To W. H. Thompson 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft Decr 2 [1859] My dear Thompson, By all means put me down £10,1 if it be worth putting down: which, till I saw the List you sent, I supposed it hardly would be. I will send the Money now if proper. Pray don't trouble yourself to write, if busy, unwell, or anyhow disinclined. I enclose a Despatch2 received this morning in answer to my now half-yearly Enquiry about him and her, who (I always tell him) is the one to ask about. For he, with all his Grumbling, is better than any of us ten Years younger. Burn the Note, when you have read it: if you can read it, which I hardly could. Snow here today: but they had it three Days ago in Warwickshire, and perhaps at Cambridge. Macmillans seems to me very seedy except Venables. The Article on Tennyson Rot.3 Yours ever, E.FG. 1 For

the fund to restore the lantern on Ely Cathedral. letter from Carlyle. 3 "Moral Aspects of Mr. Tennyson's 'Idylls of the King,'" by J. M. Ludlow, in the November issue, pp. 63-72. 2A

To John Loder1 10 Marine Terrace Lowestoft Dec. 18, [1859] Dear Sir, I have seen the Report of your meeting2 in the Chronicle, which Mr. Churchyard sends me. I don't want to be squeamish in these Matters; but as I see it is only three or four of the Great Guns are put down for £25 I certainly feel a Desire to remain under the "anon" you have so considerately clothed me with—especially as, if I read right, J.P.F.3 of Boulge only comes down with £20—which is a little Mistake of his, I think. And, further (as Mr. Meller says) since it

December 1859

appears we all stop at £25, I shall be very glad to subscribe yearly what the rest do: and so eke out (if I live) my other £25. If enough be now got, all is well; if not, I wish we had begun with £50, if it be as you say that our Offer set greater men going. But tis done now. Some of the Young Gentlemen who shot so at Pheasants should now join in Drill and animate the Rest. Yours truly E.FG. Don't you bother yourself to conceal me if askt: but now "Anon" is down for me in Print, I am certainly glad to keep under it. A Happy Xmas to you and your Father. 1 The

younger Loder. He succeeded his father in the bookshop and printing business. 2 A meeting held to organize the Third Suffolk Rifle Volunteer Corps at Woodbridge. Members were enrolled the following month. Fear of French aggression, even invasion, had been revived by the bellicose attitude adopted by the French press following the Orsini incident. (See letter to Spring Rice, Feb. 3, 1858.) The British War OfiSce in May, 1859, authorized formation of the "Volunteer Force." 3 EFG's brother John.

To Stephen Spring Rice 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft Dec. 24/59 My dear Spring Rice, Yoiu- Letter of Nov. 29 only reached me here a few Days ago: the Farmer, to whose House you had directed it, failing to send it on. So, instead of my forgetting you, I began to think you had forgot me. Well, now as you are on the other side of another Sea than rolls along these Shores: and as you are (or were a Month ago) somewhat at Fault for Occupation, do as I do (who have been Apprentice at that sort of Inanition all my Life) and sometimes send a Chat over to me in Eng­ land, as I to you now. I do believe I have at last learned how to be contentedly dull; too happy if Pain or Bother be out of the Premises, though one knows how near Neighbours they are. Build carefully as one will, says the drowsy Chorus in Aeschylus, "a Jealous Neighbour leans against the Party Wall."1 Well, to tell you then of an Existence which, I will be bound, is ten times more inane than yours, here have I been since I wrote quite alone, except ten Days at my Sister's, not

December 1859 knowing a Creature in this Place; reading a little of Forenoons: then a walk παρα θΐνα πολνφλάσβοιο [θαλάσσψ] of Afternoons: then perhaps a little Nap in the Dusk: then Coffee: then a "rush" about the Streets here seeing the Sailors and looking into the Dozen Shops: then home to read Hakluyt's Voyages (a very good Book) or to write a Letter as now: then a Glass (or two) of Grog: and to Bed at Ten—to do all the same Tomorrow! Dull enough, to be sure: but it is dull enough everywhere in the Country now, and almost less so by the Sea who always keeps alive, and won't bear Snow upon his Back, nor hardly on the tawny Fringe of his Shore. Then here are Ships innumerable: Col­ liers, to be sure; but they tack about and keep moving. I love the Sailors too: it was worth something to see two Crews of them trying two great Yawls one against the other yesterday: the good humour and Fun of the Contest. When one is in London one seems to see a decayed Race; but here the old English Stuff. A Nation, like Swift's Tree, dies first at the Top, I suppose. However, I have been partly frightened from a London Winter by the Death of my poor Bedford Lad who was smashed by his Horse falling upon him—but lingered two months—and I went to see him just before he gave up the Ghost. He and I were so much together in London, at the Taverns etc. at this Time of Year that it is melancholy to me now. To turn to other matters, I mustn't possess you with the Idea that Laurence paints badly: but, as far as I saw, much as he did when he left: which I thought not so good as before he tried to be Titian etc. But Spedding will tell you otherwise, I dare say. Pollock writes that L. has done a capital one of that "Old Serpent." Mr. Prescott should make a good Picture: I always remember his handsome humane Aspect: he looks as good as the Sailors at any rate. Frederic Tennyson ("Grimsby," do your remember?) is come to live at Jersey, I am told: but he never writes to me now. I heard from Mrs. Alfred that she and he were fairly well: he having been to Portugal this winter. It strikes me here is enough, though I was going to take another Sheet. It is time enough for me to wish you a Happy Xmas, but not for you to send me yours. But Adieu. Yours ever E.FG. 2

1

Agamemnon, 990-91. the shore of the loud-roaring [sea]," Iliad, 1.34. EFG used the signa­ ture, Parathina, "along the shore," in items contributed to Notes and Queries, 1860-61. 2 "Along

January 1860

To the East Anglian1 [Hornchurch] [January, 1860]

Aubrey,2

"Horn-church, in Essex," says "hath its denomination from the horns of a hart that happened to be killed by a King's dog, near the church, as it was building, and the horns were put in the wall of the church. Mr. Estest, a Gentleman Commoner of Trinity College, Oxford, went to school there, and said that the stumps of the horns were extant in his time." I cannot now remember from which of Aubrey's books the foregoing comes; but from one of them I am sure. The story is very like what a school-boy would tell, and Aubrey be­ lieve. Does any Essex reader know any more of the matter?—F. 1 The East Anglian, "or Notes and Queries connected with . . . Suffolk, Cam­ bridge, Essex, and Norfolk," established in October, 1858, was edited by Samuel Tymms, printer and antiquary of Lowestoft, until his death in 1871. Six items in the periodical are signed "F." Heretofore, four of these have been assigned to FitzGerald, the first being "Play Stalls," April, 1860. Brief as it is, both the content and style of the "Hornchurch" query point to EFG as the writer. The sixth item signed "F," March, 1863, is a query about genealogies, a subject in which he had no interest. His vocabularies of East Anglian terms, published 1869-71, are signed "EFG." W. F. Prideaux incorrectly dates four of the con­ tributions and omits the dates of four others (Notes for a Bibliography, pp. 63-64). 2 John Aubrey (1626-97), antiquary, educated at Oxford.

To W. F. Pollock 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft Febr. 23/60 My dear Pollock,

"Me voila ici" still!—having weathered it out so long. No bad Place, I assure you, though you who are accustomed to Pall Mall, Clubs, etc., wouldn't like it. Mudie finds one out easily: and the London Library too: and altogether I can't complain of not getting such drowsy Books as I want. Hakluyt lasted a long while: then came Captain Cook,1 whom I hadn't read since I was a Boy, and whom I was very glad to see again. But he soon evaporates in his Large Type Quartos. I can hardly manage Emerson Tennent's Ceylon:2 a very Dry Catalogue Raisonnee of the Place. A little Essay of De Quincey's3 gave me a bet­ ter Idea of it (as I suppose) in some twenty or thirty pages. Anyhow,

February 1860 I prefer Lowestoft, considering the Snakes, Sand-leeches, Mosquitos, etc. I suppose Russell's Indian Diary4 is over-coloured: but I feel sure it's true in the Main; and he has the Art to make one feel in the thick of it—quite enough in the Thick, however. Sir C. Napier came here to try and get the Beachmen to enlist in the Naval Reserve. Not one would go:5 they won't give up their Independence: and so really half starve here during Winter. Then Spring comes and they go and catch the Herrings which, if left alone, would multiply by Millions by Autumn: and so kill their Golden Goose. They are a strange set of Fellows. I think a Law ought to be made against their Spring Fishing: more important, for their own sakes, than Game Laws. I laid out half a crown on your Fraser:6 and liked much of it very much: especially the Beginning about the Advantage the Novelist has over the Playwriter. A little too much always about Miss Austen, whom yet I think quite capital in a Circle I have found quite unendurable to walk in. Thackeray's first Number7 was famous, I thought: his own little Roundabout Paper so pleasant: but the Second Number, I say, lets the Cockney in already: about Hogarth:8 Lewes is vulgar:9 and I don't think one can care much for Thackeray's Novel. He is always talking so of himself, too. I have been very glad to find I could take to a Novel again, in Trollope's Barchester Towers, etc.: not perfect, like Miss Austen: but then so much wider Scope: and perfect enough to make me feel I know the People though caricatured or carelessly drawn. I doubt if you can read my writing here: or whether it will be worth your Pains to do so. If you can, or can not, one Day write me a Line, which I will read. I suppose when the Fields and Hedges begin to grow green I shall move a little further inland to be among them. Please to remember me kindly to Mrs. Pollock and believe me Yours ever E.FG. 1

James Cook (1728-79), explorer. See letter to Cowell, Nov. 12, 1860. Emerson Tennent, Ceylon: an Account of the Island, Physical, Historical, and Topographical, 2 vols., 1859. 3 "Ceylon," a review of Ceylon and its Capabilities by J. W. Bennett (1843), published in the November, 1843, issue of Blackwood's Magazine. 4 William Howard Russell, My Diary in India in the Years 1858-59, 2 vols., 1859. Russell was correspondent for The Times of London. 5 Sir Charles Napier (1786-1860), after long service in the navy, sat in Parlia­ ment from 1855 until his death. EiForts by the government to match the growing strength of the French navy by adding 20,000 men to the naval reserve produced meager results. It was reported in the Commons in May that in three months only 800 recruits had enlisted (Annual Register, 1860, "History," p. 136). β Pollock's "British Novelists," Fraser's Magazine, Jan., 1860, pp. 20-38. 2James

March 1860 7 The January issue of the Cornhill Magazine, which Thackeray edited for the first two years. To this issue Thackeray contributed "On a Lazy, Idle Boy," the first of his Roundabout Papers, and an installment of Lovell the Widower, which ran serially until June. Sale of the first issue reached 120,000 copies, and the publish­ ers doubled Thackeray's salary (Malcolm Elwin, Thackeray, 1932, p. 353). s The first installment of "William Hogarth: Painter, Engraver, and Philosopher." 9 In Studies in Animal Life (1862) originally published serially in the Comhill.

To Stephen Spring Rice 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft March 2/60 My dear Spring Rice, I think you will be tired of my Letters: perhaps I shall soon be tired of them myself. Though indeed I don't write very many: and you need not answer this letter at any rate. For I will take for granted, unless I hear to the contrary, that you and yours are as when you last wrote. Besides, in two or three weeks I shall, I think, be moving a little more inland: though not further than Woodbridge: where I shall be glad to meet the Spring in my own old Fields once more. Even now, a few stray notes from the Thrush draw me away from the Sea-side: old τΓολυψλοισ/W having no notion of changing his manners with the Sea­ son, as yet. We had a great Gale here last Tuesday: as blew, I think, nearly over Britain: but, the Wind being off-shore, no great Mischief at Sea: some Colliers with Topmasts, etc., gone coming crippled into this harbour: and the Yawls very busy with them. I just escaped a Chimney pot on my head: going innocently to buy Cheese at a Grocer's. I am now taking to write this Letter after playing for an hour at a sort of Patience which I cannot help thinking I saw you play in the Cabin of the Vigilant, that pleasant Trip in 1855—dealing out Cards in batches of three. Was that so? I didn't at the time happen to care about seeing what your Game was: but, having learnt the Game by chance some months ago, find it very pleasant at odd times, when one's Books or Eyes are out. I am now awaiting another Box from Mudie: when some Novels of Trollope's will, I hope, come. Have you ever read them? I was afraid my Power of Novel reading was gone: but living here all alone I am glad to go into Society so easily as one does in a good Novel. Trollope's are very good, I think: not perfect, but better than a narrower Compass of Perfection like Miss Austen's. Do

March 1860 you see and like the Cornhill Magazine? I can't care for Thackeray's Novel in it: but his Roundabouts are pleasant. I found I couldn't manage Emerson Tennent's Ceylon which I suppose ought to be admired. A short Essay of De Quincey's about the Place brought all E.T.'s statistics into a Focus at once. Or at any rate, I thought so: which is enough for me. Darwin's Species2 bring one back to the old Vestiges of Creation:3 which I always had a leaning to, though Sedg­ wick4 and the Big Wigs don'd it down as impious and impudent: which it may be. No—I am no Napoleonist. I think he5 is one of whom I have seen more, who, having lived a life of Lying up to middle Age, get to believe in themselves. The Light is dead within them. I can hardly think L.N. could else believe the World would be gulled by his con­ tradictory Words and Acts. Or does he know that 700,000 armed Men will persuade any Men into any Belief? Anyhow, I feel persuaded the Day of Peace—the long, long, Day of lovely Peace—is gone from us, according to the fatal Destiny of Men and Nations who must fight when they have grown rich and proud by not fighting. I think it would have been for the Dignity of England not to have allied again with so convicted a Scoundrel:6 nor do I believe the two Nations ever can ally. The Blood is so opposite. With the German tribes we, or rather the English, would do well. But yet it may be all right to try what un­ limited Commerce may do. I am rather glad to be turned of Fifty, being weary, if not disgusted, with the Concern—of the World! The Beachmen (as they are called) here entirely decline enrolling as Naval Reserves. They won't compromise their half-starving Inde­ pendence. Sir C. Napier came to harangue them: to no Effect. They are obstinate Fellows with wonderful Shoulders: won't take one out in one of their Yawls for a Sovereign though they will give one a Ride when they go out to get nothing at all: and they rather suspect one has a Design in being Civil to them. But I give them Tobacco and Rum now and then, and have had a Chat on the Beach this very moonlight Night before coming in to Patience and Grog. All which done, and now this Letter also. Adieu—dear Spring Rice Yours ever E.FG. 1 "Loud-roaring"

[sea]. On the Origin of Species had been published the previous November. Darwin and EFG had been contemporaries at the University of Cambridge. 3 By Robert Chambers. See letter to Barton, Dec. 29,1844, n.4. 2

March 1860 4Adam

Sedgwick (1785-1873), Professor of Geology at the University of Cam­ bridge. 5 Louis Napoleon, Napoleon III. 6 On February 4 Britain and France had ratified a treaty reducing duties on an extensive schedule of goods exchanged by the two nations.

To W. B. Donne 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft March 5/60 My dear Donne, Philemon1 came safe to hand Today: and I accept him with Pleasure from you, because I am sure it is a Pleasure to you to give it to me. This is so good a Copy that I cannot do with it what I was intending to do with a worse: viz, to cut out some Parts of it to keep by them­ selves without being encumbered by the Bulk of the Volume.2 Is Philemon a very liberal Translator? Very free and easy with his Author? I suppose so. I have just parted with the only Company I have had these five months—Alfred Smith and his Brother in law Ling (Mowbray remem­ bers him at Otley Hall) who both came on Saturday and went off to their Homes and Callings today, leaving my Room very smoky indeed. Alfred is quite a good Fellow: and Ling has his humour. Mowbray has never told me about Freddy,3 tell him: and if he doesn't, I must even send Freddy himself my £10 to find a Bridal Present for himself: for I can't think of any. But (by the bye) tell Mfowbray] his Tobacco was not so good according to some of the Sailors. They thought it had a little "Foist"4 in it: but "they didn't mean to say but what they has tasted a deal wuss," etc. Some nearer Corton, rivals of the former Speakers, told me it was very good. What is Truth, said jesting Pilate? (Don't be a Buffoon and try and make a Pun about Pilot.) I am very glad You and the Queen have done so well together.5 It is capital: it may lead to other things. (I don't mean improper Familiari­ ties) though you all do very well as you are. There is Sickness and Gloom at Geldestone: a perfect Tragedy enacting there! Farewell: Love to all: Ever yours E.FG.

April 1860 1One of the works of Philemon Holland (1552-1637), translator of Greek and Latin classics. 2 EFG's library contained many volumes in which such fragments were bound. 3 Donne's youngest son, home on leave from service in India, where he had been severely wounded, married Anna Parsons of County Down, Ireland. 4 Musty odor and taste. 5 In 1859 Donne had been appointed director of dramatics at Windsor Castle. He reported to Fanny Kemble, April 1, 1860: "My theatrical management obtained for me pudding as well as praise: imprimis, a silver inkstand from H.M. inscribed 'V.R. to W.B.Donne;' secundo, £100 for salary" (Donne and Friends, p. 238).

To the East Anglian [Play-Stalls] [April, 1860] Charnock1

May not this Play-stall which Mr. enquires about be the same as the Play-stow— that is, Play-sted, or Play-ground— which I believe was to be found in many, if not most parishes in England, In the old days, when sports were countenanced not only as the amuse­ ment, but as the "cheap defence" of the nation. White,2 on his everfresh Selborne, tells of a "square piece of ground, in the centre of the village, and near the church, vulgarly called the Plestor, "with a great oak, whose arms once almost overshadowed the place, and whose bole was surrounded with steps and seats for the old to look on, while the young "frolicked and danced around them." White, who does not notice the meaning of the word Plestor, tells afterwards in his Antiq­ uities of Selborne, how Sir Adam Gurdon, in 1271, when drawing to the close of life, "granted to the Prior and Convent of Selborne, all his right and claim to a certain place,— placea, called la Pleystow, in the village aforesaid, in liberam, puram, et perpetuam Elemosynam." Stall or Stsel, though now limited to the stable and the cathedral, is a mere abbreviation for place, as stede or stow. Is there any other A.S. for play but what I here take it for? (I saw indeed somewhere in Notes and Queries, that there was a Plaistow in Essex; one near Bromley in Kent; and one near Petworth in Sussex. Does this mean whole parishes? which could hardly have been all Playground, even in the most golden age of England that Cobbett could fancy.)—F. 1 R. S. Charnock of London, author of Local Etymology (1859) and frequent contributor to the East Anglian and similar periodicals. 2Gilbert White (1720-93), the most famous of a family of naturalists, whose Natural History and Antiquities of Selborne was published in 1789.

April 1860

To the East Anglian [Orwell Wands] [April, 1860] In one of the earliest English Voyages of Discovery to the north, A.D. 1553 (Hakluyt's Collection), the ship is more than once obliged to put back into "Orwell Wands," or "Wannes." "The 15th day being at Orwell, in lat. of 52 degrees, in the morning we weyed our ankers, and went forth into the Wands about two miles from the towne, and lay there for the night." Will any inhabitant of Orwell tell me if its Wands are two miles off? "Wand," indeed, we may take to be "Want," or "Went," the perfect of "Wend," (as Road is of Ride,) used for a road or way in Chaucer; and still found in Suffolk as "The four-wantway." "Orwell Wands" may therefore be "Orwell Roads" or "Ways";1 but does the name survive now? and can any "Orwell" man tell me where? — F. 1 The anchorage, near the mouth of the Orwell River, W. G. Arnott states, was at "the site of fishing weirs; and Orwell Wannes or Wands, which Hakluyt men­ tions in his 'English Voyages,' refers to withies" which marked the location of weirs (Suffolk Estuary, Ipswich, 1950, p. 59).

To Stephen Spring Rice 10 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft April 13/60 My dear Spring Rice, I write to you quick on the Receipt of yours, you see, as if I thought my Letters could give you pleasure. But I don't think that (for I have so little to say worth writing) only the some pleasure in knowing that I like to write to you, and don't like to be forgotten by you. Besides, now I don't see you face to face, this is some sort of Communication, if but a poor one. I have written to the London men: Thackeray, Spedding, Pollock: but they don't answer: having plenty to do in talking to others: and they are quite right. I only don't wish that they should think I cease to think of them because I don't go up to see them. My Day for that is over, for one reason or another: but I do sit by Myself, and think of them often, and love them as of old: a cheap way of proving it they think, I dare say: if they think at all about it. Thompson gives me a Line now and then.

April 1860

I shall never go to Ireland, I think, again: though I could go and live there with as much Pleasure as here, I believe. I have not been to see my own Kin there these fifteen years: so don't ascribe it to great Unthankfulness if I don't go to you, as you so kindly ask me. If ever you come to these Parts, here am I glad to give you of my best. I took the Times to look at till a Fortnight ago: when I got bothered with this new Squabble about Switzerland:1 and would see no more. Come what will, I do think England has acted honorably in the Matter: and I am glad our Disagreement with France has arisen from no national Interest of our own. This Breach may be soldered up for a Time: but I think it is impossible the two Nations can go on long together: and the French, whom we blame for Ambition, have some­ thing to say against us for the Past: they have got rich and proud: and the old Story goes on about War being the Result of a Peace that brings Wealth and Pride.2 "Give Peace in our Time, Oh Lord!" But I doubt "I wish you may get it" is the Answer from that Destiny under which this wretched absurd Planet rolls. So, as I can't help these things, why should I be plagued with them, till they knock at my Door too unmistakably loud not to be heard. One wonders that any clever Man, like L. Napoleon, doesn't see what a mere Puppet of old Destiny he is: to be kicked over himself when he has done his Mis­ chief. I saw that P. Frere had succeeded in his Agricultural Ambition: and I suppose he is a very fit Man in the Main. How does his Marriage prosper so far as it goes? It was rather late to begin. You never tell me about Mrs. Frere: who therefore, I suppose, goes on as usual. And Mr. Prescott?—whom I never forget as a Man to worship, in the old Sense of the Word. I suppose you will be with him in England. How do you manage about Books in Ireland? Does Mudie reach you? I find he supplies one well at £.3 a Year. Have you read Darwin's Species? Which returns, as far [as] I can see, to the much abused "Vestiges of Creation." Trollope's Novels are well worth reading, I think: Barchester Tower, Bertram, Dr. Thome, etc. So is his Novel in the CornhilL3 Thackeray's "Lovell" seems to me too base—all about old Women's and Butlers' Squabbles. Mr. Weld's Books of Travel—in Brittany, Pyrenees, etc.,4 seem to me very good: written by a Man of Sense, Education, and a Gentleman. None of the Cockney Pertness and Glitter. I mean Weld, old Alfred's Brother-in-law. (Here I mix a second Tumbler of Br-n-d-y and Water to carry me through this Epistle at a Sitting.) Tis now the Witching Time of Night when reasonable People yawn. A little Revenue Cutter, about twenty

June 1860 Tons less than the Vigilant, comes poussetting about here, and I long to be aboard, but am obliged to go in a Shrimp-boat instead. They have famous Yawls on this Beach, but they won't take one out for a Sovereign; not for want of good Will, but because about 150 Men have a share in them, between whom any Money must be divided. So they rush off every Day to get a Job with Vessels stranding, or other­ wise distressed, but don't wish to be helped, so as the Yawls come back with a drencht Crew and not a Penny earned. Then I say, "Wouldn't it be better to let half a Dozen of your Men take me off for a Sovereign which will buy them eight Bottles of Rum?" But they can't see this, though we are capital Friends. Now I could say some more of this sort: but have only room to say "Don't feel at all bound to answer such Stuff" but believe me yours as ever E.FG. 1 Switzerland, fearing a threat to her independence, opposed the cession of Nice and Savoy to France in compensation for aid given to Italy by Napoleon III in driving the Austrians from Lombardy. The annexation was discussed in Parlia­ ment but the government abstained from interference in the transaction. The fear of further "aggression" by Louis Napoleon created strained relations between Britain and France. Tension accelerated enlistment in the new militia in Britain. 2 In Polonius, under "War," EFG quoted an "Old Saw":

War begets Poverty—Poverty, Peace— Peace begets Riches—Fate will not cease— Riches beget Pride—Pride is War's ground— War begets Poverty—and so the world goes round. 3 The Bertrams, 1859; Dr. Thome, 1858. Frarrdey Parsonage was appearing serially in the Cornhill Magazine. * Charles R. Weld, Vacation in Brittany, 1856; The Pyrenees, West and East, 1859.

To Mrs. Charles Allen Farlingay: Woodbridge June 2/60 Dear Mrs. Allen, Your kind Note has reacht me here after a Fortnight's abode at my old Lodgings in London. In London I have not been for more than a year, unless passing through it in September, and have no thought of going up at present. I don't think you were there last Spring, were

July 1860 you? Or perhaps I was gone before you arrived, as I generally used to get off as soon as it began to fill, and the Country to become ami­ able. Here at last we have the "May" coming out: there it is on some Thorns before my Windows, and the Tower of Woodbridge Church beyond: and beyond that some low Hills that stretch with Furze and Broom to the Sea side, about ten miles off. I am of course glad of so good a Report of John Allen. I have long been thinking of writing to him: among other things to give his Wife a Drawing Laurence made of him for me some four and twenty years ago: in full Canonicals—very serious—I think a capital Likeness on the whole, and one that I take pleasure to look at. But I think his Wife and Children have more title to it: and one never can tell what will become of one's Things when one's dead. This same Drawing is now in London (I hope: for, if not, it's lost) and you should see it if you had a mind. For you don't seem to find your way to Prees any more than I do: I should go if there weren't a large Family. Mrs. John is always very kind to me. I do think it is very kind of you too to remem­ ber and write to me: at any rate I do answer Letters, which many better Men don't. Please to remember me to your Husband: and believe me unforgetful of the Good old Days, and of you, and yours, Edward FitzGerald

To Alfred Tennyson Farlingay: Woodbridge July 5/60 My dear old Alfred, Twice a year (about) do I send a Notice to ask of yourself and yours—never, I assure you, forgetting you and good old Times. Then, if you can't muster Courage to answer (as you never had a Liking that way) I rely on Mrs. A.T. sending me a few Lines: though she has plenty else to do and to think of, beside no very strong health at Command. By the bye—Has she by this time got hold of any better Portrait of A.T.—whether Picture or Bust—than that by Laurence which I sent down to you some years ago?1 Only if she have a better, do I want or wish for Laurence's, as I said when I sent it. And of this She is to judge. I suppose the Bust is better: and Spedding was so good as to give me a Cast of it:2 but it has not to me the Associations that Laurence's Picttire

July 1860 had, defective as that may be: and I believe I like a Picture of the Living better than a Statue. I have not even got the Cast here, having scarce room for it in this Farmhouse. But my Walls are covered with the Sweepings of old Pawnbroker Shops in the Way of Pictures: beside several Faces of old Friends—Spedding among the number. But not A.T.'s, whose Phiz I have a sort of Regard for. As to the bearded Daguerrotypes, they are very fine, I dare say: but I like the old beard­ less A.T. I have been very much pleased indeed reading Mr. Weld's Ex­ cursions to Brittany and the Pyrenees—so sensible, Scholarly, and Gentlemanly—a great contrast to the pert Travels now so common. There is another late Tour in Brittany by, I think, a Mr. Jephson:3 which I think was pert and vulgar: but I may be confounding it with some others. For these sort of Travels and Biographies are what I get from Mudie, and confuse one with another in my Recollection. I hap­ pened this morning on these Lines written out from one of these Breton Books— "O Virgin Mary on thy Throne of Snow, With thy Son between thine Arms, Thou art in Joy, I in Sorrow! Thou keepest thy Holy Child, But I have lost mine: Have Pity on Me, oh Mother of Pity." I was going to copy out some French Verses from Menage:4 but they won't come with the Page cleanly, and you probably wouldn't care about them if they did. Yet I always know that you can like scraps of Nonsense that "Pomposo" wouldn't condescend to. I had a Letter at last from old Frederick some four Months ago: and wrote him a long Letter in return. I sometimes look at some Sketches I made at Farringford—now six years ago—when F. Lushington was there: and remember so well the morning of my Departure. I love you and like it: but am too seedy to go about now: but do believe that I am as always and shall be, I know, as long as I can remember at all, Yours ever and ever Fitz. 1 See 2 The

letter to Mrs. Tennyson, [May 7, 1854]. 1857 bust by Thomas Woolner (1825-92), friend of EFG's and A. Tenny­

son's. 3 John M. Jephson, Narrative of a Walking Tour in Brittany, 1859. 1 Gilles Menage (1613-92), French philologist and poet.

July 1860

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson Farlingay: Woodbridge July 12160 My dear Mrs. Tennyson, You really will not only distress, but make me feel guilty for an ungentlemanly Beast, if you send back the Portrait, having none better, or none you like more, whether for its own youthful Merit, or the Painter's. I have never heard the good Judges speak very well of Laurence's: I saw it was a Caricature: yet, for whatever reasons, I preferred it to any I have since seen. But I should scarce have spoken of its return now, had I not seen (in the Athenaeum, I think) a notice of some more considerable Portrait of /j\ to be seen in London:1 and which I supposed had put Laurence's Sketch quite out of Countenance. But, whether or not, and however that may be, do believe that you can scarcely pain me more than sending Laurence's back if it be of any Pleasure to you: and Alfred says you would not part with it with­ out a Pang. I am glad if that be so: because on that Pang I rest my Orders that you don't send it back. As I knew that Mrs. Allen had not a better Portrait of her husband (my old Friend John Allen) I have sent it to her, for good and all; one that Laurence made over twenty years ago. And so let it be with you and your Husband's, if you think as I do about it. Pray, pray, let this be so settled, without any further Words. Thank old Alfred for his Letter, which was an unexpected Pleasure. I like to hear of him and you once or twice in the year: but I know he is no dab at Literature in any Line, poor Fellow. "Paltry Poet"— Let him believe it is any thing but want of Love for him that keeps me out of the Isle of Wight: nor is it Indolence, neither. But to say what it is, would make me write too much about myself. Only let him be­ lieve what I do say. I am now going down to Woodbridge to see the Launch of a Boat I have bought: just before finding I could have the use of another without buying. But I doubt I shan't be able to go alone, because of the intricacies of the Mud Channel which it is too tedious to stick on: so must have some one with me whom my Woodbridge Friends will say is only hired to prevent my going to the Bottom. This part of the Country, left to peaceful Silence for forty-five years, is now disturbed by Rifles practicing on Shore and Common by the Coast. "Give Peace in our Time, oh Lord!" I say we shall have to pray

July 1860 in vain for it for the rest of such Lives as are turned of fifty and scarce wound up to go for sixty. The Nations have had time to "wax fat" and now must kick. Well, it is my own fault if I have not had enough of the pleasant Years hitherto. Love once more to old Alfred: once more pray do as I desire about the Picture: and believe me ever Yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald 1 Recently

exhibited by G. F. Watts.

"Somehow all the Country round is become a Cemetery to me: so many I loved there dead," FitzGerald remarked soon after writing to Mrs. Tennyson. Therein lay his reason for buying a boat to sail on the Deben. The river yielded new associations and, before long, lured him to sea. For 17 years sailing was his principal recreation. His first boat proved too small to please him, and the following spring he had a second built at Beccles. Like the first, the Waveney was designed for the river, but FitzGerald sailed her along the coast and into the River Aide. "Ah, she go like a wiolin, don't sheF' observed a fisherman at Aldeburgh. "I always leave all management of the Boat, etc., to the Sailor," FitzGerald assured friends whom he invited to sail with him. He ex­ perienced difficulty, however, in finding a satisfactory "captain." His first was "a poor careless DeviX' whom he employed because no one else would. In January, 1861, the man was arrested for burglary and later sentenced to fifteen months in prison. FitzGerald regretted the loss because his sailor "had fun in him; and the more respectable Men are duller." The second was "one-legged Jack"; but, after two seasons, win­ ter idleness brought about his downfall also. He was arraigned "for appropriating a piece of Wreckage which he ought to have carried to the Customs." FitzGerald again regretfully parted company with his skipper. "Where shall I find such EnglishF' he asked. One gathers that Ted West, who followed, lacked the fun of one predecessor and the picturesque speech of the other; but he was a skilled helmsman and a steady and trustworthy man who did not run afoul of the law even in dire winters. He sailed the Waveney from 1863 until his death in 1877. Sailing a sixteen foot boat on the placid Deben, though supple­ mented by "tosses" on the sea at Aldeburgh and Lowestoft, failed to satisfy FitzGeralds zest for boating. He longed for a yacht with sleep-

July 1860 ing quarters and enough deck space to entertain parties of relatives and friends. In January, 1862, on the recommendation of a Woodbridge merchant, he bought a small yacht, sight unseen, at Greenwich. When delivered, the vessel proved to be slow, poorly equipped, and unsafe. He wrote off the £60 she had cost him and, at Ipswich in June, hired the Criterion, "a shabby concern" of nine tons, which he sailed for the remainder of the season. The boat was manned by "one-legged Jack" Smith of the Waveney and Jack Howe, son of John and Mary Howe, who later became gardener and housekeeper at Little Grange. The following spring FitzGerald ordered a 14-ton schooner to be built by John Harvey, a shipwright with a national reputation, at Wivenhoe on the River Colne, Essex. He took possession in mid-June and named his yacht the Scandal, after, he explained, "the main staple of Woodbridge." Her skiff was the Whisper. The rigging of the Scandal consisted of mainsail, boom and stay foresails, jib and gaff topsails. She also carried a small square sail which was occasionally used at sea. Her dimensions: length, 43.2 feet; breadth, 9.6 feet; draft, 5 feet. FitzGerald described the craft as "not a Racer—but not a Cart-horse—a good Sea Boat." Tom Newson, one of the licensed Deben pilots, skipper, and John Cooper formed the crew. Cooper was succeeded by Jack Howe, who had served on the Criterion. From June until November for eight years the Scandal was FitzGerald's summer home. A few weeks after taking possession he crossed the North Sea to Holland. Occasionally he ventured into the English Channel and to the northern coast of Norfolk, but usually cruising was restricted to coastal waters between the Colne to the south and Lowestoft to the north. "I find I can't sleep so well on board as I used to do thirty years ago," FitzGerald wrote after a month of short cruises. The words "thirty years ago" snared the curiosity of Frank V. Hussey of Ipswich who, in the course of his research in the history of East Coast yachting, has made a thorough study of FitzGerald's sailing. "What is the sig­ nificance of 'thirty years ago'F' Mr. Hussey asked the editors. He found his answer by discovering that FitzGerald was "a third genera­ tion yachtsman." John FitzGerald, EdwarcFs maternal grandfather, Mr. Hussey learned, was a charter member of the Yacht Club of Cowes, later known as the Royal Yacht Club, when it was founded in 1812. At the time, he owned the 116-ton Atalanta, the largest cutter in the squadron. He continued as a member until his death in 1818. From about 1822 to 1835, while Edward's immediate family occupied Wherstead Lodge overlooking the Orwell estuary, they lived, Mr. Hussey states, "in the

July 1860 midst of gentry with whom yachting was as much a normal activity as hunting, shooting, and other pursuits of the countryside." In 1827 Edwards father advertised a nine-ton yawl, the Arab, for sale at Ipswich. The same year he was elected to membership in the Royal Yacht Club, the owner of a 50-ton cutter. Its name—by some caprice of chance—the Ruby. He sold Ruby in 1830 and resigned from the Club after the close of the 1836 season. These were the first years of his ill-starred coal-mining venture at Pendleton. In 1866 FitzGerald joined the Royal Western Yacht Club of Ireland. One who knew FitzGerald personally stated that he "best loved the sea when the sea was rough," and Mr. Hussey, who long has sailed East Coast waters, has a robust respect for FitzGerald as a yachtsman. Few amateur sailors of the mid-nineteenth century, he declares, stayed afloat five months of the year or cruised from Poole, Dorset, to Wells, Norfolk. Moreover, he adds, sailing beyond Yarmouth into waters lack­ ing port or anchorage "is rather a chancy business" still. As for FitzGeraMs jaunts to Aldeburgh in the Waveney: "Only a daring sailor would cross the bars at the mouths of the Ore and Deben in a sixteenfoot boat, crouched in a cockpit measuring about five feet by three feet six inches. Such a venture would be comparable to shooting tur­ bulent river rapids in a kayak. Few men would do it more than once." Weakened eyes taxed by bright sunlight led FitzGerald to sell the Scandal in 1871; and, when West died six years later, he lost all heart for "prowling" about the Deben in the Waveney "after fourteen years in his company." FitzGerald considered giving the boat to the Fishers of Aldeburgh, and probably did so. But he never abandoned sailing. As late as two days before his death he reported visits "now and then . . . to the neighbouring Seaside, and a Splash to Sea in one of the boats." Anecdotes are aids to biographers and editors. They illuminate and leaven text; they amuse readers. Too often, however, they mislead and deceive. The singular act, frequently distorted, is recorded as normal practice. Through repetition, the anecdote ossifies; the biographical barnacle results. FitzGerald is the subject of numerous canards. He did not attend church during the last 30 years or so of his life, but one Sunday evening when Archdeacon Groome preached in St. Marys at Woodbridge FitzGerald stood in the church porch listening to the intonation of his friend's voice. Writers have reported the single inci­ dent as routine conduct. He is often described as walking abroad with a plaid shawl over his shoulders. "Nonsense," said Vincent Redstone, the antiquarian whose residence at Woodbridge overlapped FitzGeralds

August 1860 last years at Little Grange. "On cool evenings he may have thrown something like an afghan or lap robe over his shoulders for a brief stroll. Something of the kind. But he was not in the habit of walking about with a shawl." Posh Fletcher, the Lowestoft fisherman whom FitzGerald befriend­ ed, is the source of a statement often cited to illustrate FitzGerald's eccentricity. Fletcher told James Blyth that FitzGerald "always went to sea in a silk hat, and generally wore a 'cross-over' or a lady's boa, round his neck." Blyth interviewed Posh some 35 years after his period of friendship with FitzGerald, and we may be justified in suspecting the sailor of exaggeration. No doubt FitzGerald sometimes wore his fa­ vored beaver on board the Scandal in Lowestoft Harbor; but it may be left to the judgment of all who have sailed and those who will pause to reflect, what the chances are that an experienced yachtsman, especially one who preferred to sail when seas were rough, would invariably get under way with a top hat for a headpiece. Writers have met that incon­ gruity by stating that the boa served to lash hat to head, and have em­ bellished the story by describing the boa as feathered. FitzGerald sailed as early as March and as late as November, in seasons when a scarf of some kind unquestionably would have been fitting; but the need of a scarf on summer cruises could not have been frequent. How­ ever, he was utterly indifferent to what others thought of his deport­ ment; in fact, it appears to have amused him on occasion to court ridi­ cule. Motivation for appearing on deck in Lowestoft harbor wearing topper and boa may be found in an incident at Aldeburgh. One day FitzGerald and a friend put off in a small boat with sail hoisted upside down. The friend wished to right it. "We don't want those fellows on shore grinning at us." "Let it alone," responded FitzGerald. "It will be something for them to talk about."

To Notes and Queries [Anecdote Biography] [August 18,1860J1 At p. 238. of Mr. Timbs's very agreeable Anecdote Biography,2 I read:— "The author of a volume of Pen and Ink Sketches,3 published in 1847, relates that he was introduced to Crabbe at a Conversazione at the Beccles Philosophical Institution. The poet was seated in

August 1860 Cowper's armchair, the same which the Bard of Olney occupied at Mrs. Unwin's. 'Pleased to see you, my young friend: very pleased to see you,' said Crabbe to the author of the Sketches: and after a little while he pointed to the fine portrait of Burke by Sir Joshua Reynolds which hung near him, and said, 'Very like, very like in­ deed. I was in Sir Joshua's study when Burke sat for it. Ahl there was a man! If ever you come to Trowbridge,' he added, 'you must call at the vicarage, and I'll show you a sketch of Burke, taken at Westminster Hall when he made his great speech in the Warren Hastings' case. Edmund left it to me; it is only a rude pencil draw­ ing, but it gives more of the orator than that picture does.'" Having had the pleasure of knowing Beccles and the poet Crabbe's family rather intimately, I was startled with this new anecdote; and inquiring in both those quarters I find, first, that there never was a Philosophical Institute at Beccles; nor ever a "Conversazione" except one, in connection with the Public Library, long after the poet's death; nor Burke's portrait, nor Cowper's armchair ever remembered in the town at all. "Beccles," however, may be a slip of the author's or transcriber's pen for Norwich, where Crabbe usually spent a day or two with Mrs. Opie when he came this way, and where Cowper's armchair, at least, may very likely have been produced at some such Conversazione; but whence the portrait of Burke, at the painting of which "I was in Sir Joshua's study," etc.? As to the "pencil drawing" of Burke making "his great speech," and left "by Edmund to me\" nothing is remembered of it by any one of the poet's surviving family; one of whom, most com­ petent to speak, is quite certain that "it did not exist when the property was divided" between the poet's two sons at his death; and such a relic was not likely to be overlooked. The same person observes on the utter improbability of the language put into the poet's mouth: "how difficult it was ever to get him to speak in the country of the great people he fell in with in town"; how very little given he was to invite strangers to his house; "not always civil to such as broke in upon him," as a celeb­ rity: that whether "Edmund left it to me" were a fact, such were "certainly not his words" in telling of it; "he would have said 'Mr. Burke,'" being, as every one who knew him knows, somewhat overformal in such punctilio. PARATHINA4 1 The date of publication has been assigned arbitrarily to EFG's letters to Notes and Queries. Four items, published August 18, 1860, had probably been mailed together. Two items appear in the May, 1861, issue.

August 1860 2 Two volumes, 1859-60, by John Timbs, assistant editor of the Illustrated Lon­ don News. 3 Published anonymously; attributed to John Dix, a surgeon of Bristol. EFG's exposure of the Crabbe anecdote prompted another correspondent to charge that the Sketches involve James Montgomery in a similar "limbo of lies" (Notes and Queries, Sept. 8, 1860, p. 198). It is interesting that Dix wrote a biography of Thomas Chatterton, also of Bristol. 4 Which translates: "Along the shore."

To Notes and Queries [OLD ENGLISH TUNES]

[August 18,1860] There are still some old English tunes of more or less worth played by chimes in country churches, and, as I know, not to be found else­ where. Would it not be worth while, before they be all changed or done away with, to get them noted down? which some one would be found to do in any parish, if Mr. Chappell or Dr. Rimbault1 would ask as much in "N. & Q." Will they, or any other of your contributors, help me to the story of the person, tune, and words (if there were any) of the delightful old "Nancy Dawson?" She danced at Sadler's Wells I know some hundred years ago, and was buried in some London church—St. Bride's I think." I also know the print of her just about to fling off in her "jigg." But what else? Parathina This famous hornpipe dancer died at Hampstead, May 27, 1767, and was buried in the cemetery of St. George the Martyr, Queen Square, Bloomsbury, where there is a tombstone to her memory with the laconic inscription, "Here lies Nancy Dawson." Ed. [of N. & Q.] β

1 William Chappell, music antiquary and publisher. Edward F. Rimbault, writer on music and its history. Both men participated in founding the Musical Antiquarian Society.

To Notes and Queries [GONGE: THE CONGE, YARMOUTH]

[August 18,1860] Your correspondent Mr. Gantillon will find another "Gong" at Lowestoft, if not at Yarmouth; meaning, if I remember rightly, one

August 1860 whole row, or breadth, of meshes in making a fishing-net; one whole "go" of meshes, as it might now be called. The Lowestoft people call the bent irons at each end of the trawl and shrimp nets "Lutades," so pronounced at least. Is this from A.S. Lut-an, to bow, bend, etc.? I have not found the word known farther up the coast than Aldeburgh, nor mentioned in any provincial dic­ tionary. PARATHINA

To Notes and Queries [LATIN, GREEK, AND GERMAN METRES]

[August 18,1860] Your correspondent C.E. asks, "Is there in any foreign language a metre similar to that of Tennyson's Locksley Hall?" Yes: it is a rather favourite metre with the Persian Hafiz; only alter­ nating trochee and spondee thus:

This metre is but an addition of four syllables to that in which some of the chief Persian poems are written by Jami, Attar, and, especially, the Mesnavi of Jelaluddyn.

PARATHINA

To Mrs. Cowell Farlingay, Woodbridge August 21/60 Dear Mrs. CoweU, You will not like the Fraction of your Poem1 which I return: and you need not take it, you know. I think a fault in the Structure of the Original is, that it begins by telling how Ailie is drooping, as, after the intermediate means, it ends by telling how she must droop. Whereas the Poem should, I think, be a little Drama: open with Ailie at full work: and then see gradually how it tells upon her. So as, in reality,

August 1860 my Scheme will make a longer Drama than yours, though less than half its size, simply from not beginning with the End. There is also a good deal of Repetition: and some lines I don't like: "the Sausage at the Fire": "To-morrow's claims" for Lessons: and I don't like "She lifted it o'er rough and Burr"—nor the last line but one: for if She only "sink to rest," it is a subject of Congratulation, not of Sorrow, after all her Exertions. The Sketch I send is only meant to show my Idea of the Outline: you must fill it in. I have been here three months: the house going on as usual but for the Hostess who has dropt away. Mr. Smith is very well: and is now in the middle of Harvest. We have had such a wet Summer as has not been recollected since 1816, I believe: and I doubt we have not done with it yet. I go on here really seeing nobody except the few Farmers and Farmers' Wives connected with the House. I have been but once to Ipswich in these three Months! when I called on C. E. Cowell,2 who was out. He said he should drive over here one day, but has not done so yet. Oh yes, I drove through Ipswich once again with Alfred Smith on our way to his Tuddenham. Anna Ling has been, and yet is, very ill of some Tumour, which came on, or came to a dangerous Point, by a fall downstairs last Winter. She has been to London for the best Advice: and is now better: but cannot walk, or scarcely. This is of course a sad Damper on her and her husband's home: she so sunny a few months ago. But her general health improves: she is yet young: and one hopes she will regain herself. I have never set foot in London since last March year, except run­ ning through to Dorsetshire last Autumn: nor have I set eyes on Donne, Spedding, or any of the Wise Men since. It is wrong not to go: but I have lost all Curiosity about what London has to see and hear: its Books come to me here from Mudie: and W. Browne is too much connected with my old Taverns and Streets not to fling a sad Shadow over all. As I have not had courage to go into Bedfordshire, Mrs. B. wished her Boys to come and see me in Suffolk. So I took them to Aldbro', where they were happy Boating and Shooting with a young Sailor, who, strangely enough, reminded me something of their Father as I first knew him near thirty years ago! This was a strange Thing: and my Thoughts run after that poor Fisher Lad who is now gone off in a Smack to the North. I always like Seafaring People: and go now every Day almost on the Water: either this old Deben here, or on the Sea. Somehow all the Country round is become a Cemetery to me: so many I loved there dead: but none I have loved have been drown'd.

September 1860 Perhaps this poor Sailor who played with W.B.'s Boys as a Boy, and yet took a sort of tender Care of them, will go down into the Deep and blacken that too to my Eyes. Tell Cowell I received his Paper, and liked the literal Translation from the Mesnavi very much indeed. That is the way to do it, only cutting out and curtailing: and so, it would be very much better than anything I have done. He ought to do this: for I suppose it is the best Persian Poem. I have not looked into Persian of late: but I mean, if I live, to take it up again, and do a little day by day: so as not quite to lose what I have learnt. I do not expect to take any great Interest in it: though I might like the Mesnavi if it were presented to me in a large clear Type. But I can't give my Eyes up to MSS. for any upshot that Persian is like to render me. What astonishes me is, Shakespeare: when I look into him, it is not a Book, but People talking all round me. Instead of wearying of him, I only wonder and admire afresh. Milton seems a Dead weight compared. Adieu, both of you. I don't know where I am to be this Winter: but that is not to be quite here these two Months. Robert Bloomfield's3 Mother said to him—"Three Giants are coming upon me—Old Age— Winter—Poverty!" Yours ever, E.FG. N.B. I don't quote this as my case entirely. 1

"Ailie," published in Mrs. Cowell's Leaves of Memory, 1891. B. Cowell's brother. 3 Suffolk peasant-poet (1766-1823). 2 Ε.

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson Farlingay: Woodbridge Sept r : 5/60 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, Pray take and keep Alfred's Portrait by Laurence to yourself and your Heirs for ever. I have been away to the Seaside with the two Sons of my poor Friend W. Browne, killed last year. As I have no heart to go and see them in their Country, they came to see me in mine: and I took them to the Sea, as most likely to amuse inland Boys. So they boated, and rowed, and shot Gulls and Dotterels, and flung stones into the Sea:

September 1860 and swore an eternal Friendship with a Sailor, and are now gone home—and so am I, As to the Rifles, etc., I did all I could a year ago to set them agoing: and this year some Greater Folks than myself took it up, and they are set agoing: and a very good Company at Woodbridge with an inde­ fatigable Captain. Till Things become more pressing however I do not exhibit myself among them. Ask Alfred why he writes "Sparrow-hawk" in his Idyll.11 dare say he knows best: but if not "Falcon" or "Hawk" (such as used for the Chase, which I do not think the Sparrow-hawk was) why not "Spar-hawk," which is the ancient Anglo-Saxon word, used by Chaucer, and surely much terser, if not more accurate, than Sparrow-hawk. "He looketh as a Spar-hawk with his Eyn"— says Chaucer's Host of the Nun's Priest. Richardson's Dictionary is not clear as to what the Spar, or Sper, of either Sparrow, or Sparrowhawk, is: whether A.S. spyrian, to speer, search after, etc., or German Sparvier, Spar-var: that is, spreading (wings) far. He says the Low Latin is Sparvarius, Spar-hawk, or Sparrowhawk. I can't help supposing Sparrowhawk was only a Corruption of Sparhawk, as Sparrowgrass of Asparagus, etc. Yours and Alfred's always E.FG. 1 "Enid," one of the first four Idylls of the King, published in 1859. "Enid" sub­ sequently formed two Idylls, in the first of which, "The Marriage of Geraint," the form "sparrow-hawk" is used. Tennyson had written "sparhawk" in "Sir Launcelot and Guinevere," published in 1842.

To Mrs. Charles Allen Farlingay: Woodbridge Sept r 9/60 My dear Mrs. Allen, It is very kind of you to write to me. Ah! how I can fancy the Still­ ness, and the Colour, of your pretty Tenby!—now eight and twenty years since seen! But I can't summon Resolution to go to it: and daily get worse and worse at moving any where, a common Fate as we grow older. Your Note came in an Enclosure from your Cousin John, who seems to flourish well with Wife and Children. It is Children who keep alive

September 1860

one's Interest in Life: that is to say, if one happens to like one's Children. I have had to stay with me the two sons of my poor Friend killed last year: he whom I first made Acquaintance with at your very Tenby. As I haven't found Courage to go to their Country, their Mother would have them come here, and I took them to our Seaside; not a beautiful Coast like yours—no Rocks, no Sands, and few Trees—but yet liked because remembered by me as long as I can remember. Anyhow, there are Ships, Boats, and Sailors: and the Boys were well pleased with all that. The place we went to is called Aldborough: spelt Aldeburgh: and is the Birth place of the Poet Crabbe, who also has Daguerreotyped much of the Character of the Place in his Poems. You send me some Lines about the Sea: what if I return you four of his? Still as I gaze upon the Sea I find Its waves an Image of my restless mind: Here Thought on Thought: there Wave on Wave succeeds, Their Produce—idle Thought and idle Weeds!1 Adieu: please to remember me to your Husband: and believe me yours ever very sincerely, Edward FitzGerald 1 From Crabbe's "Fragment, Written at Midnight, Aldborough, 1779," with EFG's customary emendations. Crabbe wrote:

Still I pass on, and now before me find The restless ocean, emblem of my mind; There wave on wave, here thought on thought succeeds, Their produce idle works, and idle weeds.

To Notes and Queries [Harmonious Blacksmith,1 etc.] [Farlingay ] [September 22, 1860] It is doubted, I think, whether Handel heard his famous melody sung by a blacksmith, or made his own music of the sound of anvil and forge. However this may be, Chaucer, in his Dream, tells us that the latter was the origin of all music:— "Lamech's son Tubal That first found out the Art of Song: For as his Brother's Hammers rong Upon his Anvil up and down, Thereof he took the firste Rown."2

October 1860 While on Chaucer, can you tell me why his Canterbury Tales couplet was called "Riding-rhyme?" "I had forgotten," says Gascoigne, "a notable kind of rhyme called 'Riding-rhyme:' and that is such as our Master, Father Chaucer, useth in his Canterbury Tales, and in divers other light and delectable enterprises."3 So little heroic (as we now call it) that he elsewhere says it "serveth most aptly to write a merie tale." Why? As being less complicated than such measure as used in Troilus and Cressida, etc.? Surely not "Riding-rhyme" from the manner of pilgrimage. Lastly, what bird is Chaucer's Woodwalei which he puts among the songsters? Urry says "Witwall, a golden ouzell." An ancient Gloss, in Rel. Ant.5 ii.p.83. gives "Wodewale, l'oriol." Halliwell in his own Gloss, says Woodpecker. PARATHINA 1 See

letter to Allen, Feb. 5, 1833, n.9. Dream," The Book of the Duchesse, II. 1162-66. EFG probably quoted from memory. In standard texts the closing couplet rhymes "doun"—"soun." 3 In George Gascoigne's Certain Notes of Instruction Concerning . . . Verse or Rhyme (1575). 4 The name was applied to the Golden Oriole and to woodpeckers, particularly the Green Woodpecker. Chaucer spells the name wodewale in The Romaunt of the Rose. 5 Reliquiae Antiquae. 2 "The

To Anna Ling Farlingay October 1.60 Dear Anna Ling, Alfred and I didn't know that Wednesday next was talked of for our going to Otley, till we arrived here yesterday: nor then, till he was just setting off home so as I couldn't speak for myself. As far as I now see, Wednesday will do for me: and I have written so to Alfred: desiring him to let you know whether it will do for him also: as I should not like that we should miss meeting as we did last Year. He talked of driving round here to take me up: which I tell him not to do unless he also wants to see his Father: since I can easily borrow the Pony here and I dare say blunder back my way in the Dark, clever as I always am at taking a wrong Turn. In case anything should arise to prevent my going on Wednesday, I

November 1860 will let you know: but this is not likely. I suppose about one will be Duck-time: but pray don't get anything for us, especially since some­ thing may turn up against our going: and if you make no preparations we shall be left at our Ease. What would we have? There is the ALE! Yours truly, E.FG. In case Alfred writes you he can't go, you will understand that I also will wait till he can. And if the Day sets in for a Deluge, can you expect a tender young Thing to venture?

William E. Crowfoot1 Farlingay, Woodbridge Νου. 2/60 Can you tell me the probable value of the little House and Field at the forthcoming sale of the Ashmans Estate.2 My destiny seems rather to hook me to this Woodbridge side of Suffolk, and I can be no better than in this house which I now write from. But I am only a Lodger with a Tenant, and am not certain of his Tenure and moreover, even while he is here, he scarce wants me in Winter, so I suppose I shall soon be moving: whether to Woodbridge hard by, or Lowestoft as last year. I rather think to Woodbridge first, anyhow: as I get at some goods I want in this house more easily. Anyhow, please to keep my enquiry entirely to yourself: I may shortly run over to my friends at the "Kings Head"3 for a Day; for I want to see, or enquire about, a Boat even more than a house—a Boat of some 16 Feet long, that will do on this tide river as well as on your tideless Waveney; I have been on the water almost every day: and go even now, though I expect every day to come back deaf, if not drowned. I was very much pleased with Leighton's boat: and talked to the Builder (Wright,4 I think) but I doubt if the Norwich and Beccles Build will quite do for this Estuary where one has to row the boat against a strong Tide if the Wind fails. I am surprised to find I have filled a sheet about such things. You will suppose I have turned very nautical, chew Tobacco and dance Horn­ pipes. But I remain the same peaceable Mortal; only asking for the fresh Air and the Ripple of the Water. N.B. Do you know any one at Norwich or Yarmouth who could put me in the way of ascertaining about these Boats? Here is another impor­ tant Query?

November 1860 Well now for other things I am glad indeed to hear well of you: you have been travelling. If you want to travel agreeably in a Book (which is the extent of my excursions), you will find "Through Norway with a Knapsack" a very good book. Have you seen Volumes V and VI of Froude's History?5 Not so good, it seems to me as the former four, but that may be Fancy: or because Edward and Mary are not so interesting as Henry VIII. One can't help looking forward to Great Bess. I have been reading with interest some French Memoirs toward the end of the last Century: when the French were a cheerful, in­ genious, witty, trifling people; they had not yet tasted of the Blood of the Revolution, which really seems to me to have altered their Char­ acter. The modern French Novels exhibit Vengeance as a moving Virtue: even toward one another: can we suppose they think less well of it toward us? In this respect they are really the most barbarous People of Europe. 1 A physician of Beccles and intimate friend of EFG's. This letter is the first of sixteen transcripts of portions of EFG's letters to Crowfoot now in Trinity College Library. 2 At Barsham, a village near Beccles. 3 A delightful inn still serving the public. 4 William Wright. 5 James A. Froude, History of England from the Fall of Wolsey to the Defeat of the Spanish Armada, 12 vols., 1856-70.

To E. B. Cowell Farlingay NoV 12/60 Captain Cook's departure from Ulietea. Oreo's last Request was for me to return. When he saw that he could not obtain that Promise, he asked the Name of my Marai (Burial-Place). As strange a Question as it was, I hesitated not a Moment to tell him "Stepney"—the Parish in which I live when in London. I was made to repeat it several times over till they could pronounce it; and then—"Stepney Marai no Tootee!" was echoed through an hundred Mouths at once. I afterwards found the same Question had been put to Mr. Forster by a Man on Shore: but he gave a different, and indeed more proper Answer, by say­ ing, "No man who used the Sea could say where he should be buried. Cook's Second Voyage, I.3791

December 1860 1

Voyage toward the South Pole and round the World . . . in . . . 1772-1775,

2 vols., 1777.

To Notes and Queries [Bachaumont's1 Memoires Secrets, Londres, 1778: Anecdote Biography] [December 8,1860] "21 Juillet, 1777. On rapporte que Ie Docteur Bouvart ayant ete appelle depuis peu par Ie Grand-Aumonier en Enfance, mais n'etant pas moins susceptible des tnaux physiques, s'est plaint de sa Goutte au Medicin, et Iui a dit qu'il souffroit comme un Damne — 'Quoi, d6ja, Monseigneur?' a repris Ie malin Esculape." This famous "deja," is generally quoted as Talleyrand's consolation to some friend in a like condition. He might have said it, I suppose, so long ago as 1777; but so might other Frenchmen before him. (The words I have underlined must surely be confused with some other text: but the story is clear enough.) Query. Old Piron2 lying on his death-bed has, as we say hereabout, weft off3 the Cure of St. Roch with his usual caustic humour. But— "Sa niece nomm£e Nanette, Iui ayant fait des representations sur la necessite de satisfaire aux ceremonies d'usage—'Tu sais bien,' dit-il, 'que je n'ai jamais aime a mentir: allons—qu'il vienne—mais qu'on me donne mon grand Widercome'—gobelet enorme dans lequel il buvoit." What is the "Widercome?"4 Have the Germans any such name for a great cup that goes its rounds? Or did the author of Pen and Ink Sketches hear his "young friend," Piron, relate one social evening how he had christened his great goblet from the Great Widdicombe of Astley's, who had sent it him for a present, etc.? Le Texier.—Somewhile ago one of your readers, I think, was asking about this famous reciter. Bachaumont first notices him:— "22 Avril, 1774. Un particulier de Lyon venu en cette capitale pour y deployer son talent singulier fait grand bruit, et excite la curiosite des amateurs. On dit qu'il a 1'art de declamer ou de lire une piece de theatre entiere, en variant tellement ses inflexions de voix qu'il fait illusion, et qu'on croit !'entendre jouer par autant

December 1860 d'acteurs differens. C'est a qui aura a souper ce provincial, qui en outre exige un auditoire tres nombreux. Il se nomme Texier." Farther notice of Texier may be found in Harry Angelo's5 Memoirs (vol. i. pp. 289 et seq.). From these it appears that, after the Parisians were tired of him, he and his readings were for some while the fashion in London. Then the "Lady Albina Buckinghamshire," and her "picnic" amateurs, began their performances with his at his house in Leicester Square—"when the amusements lacking variety, notwithstanding the versatile powers of this incomparable reader, and the recitations from Racine and Moliere by certain ladies and gentlemen amateurs, it was determined to remove the Assembly to the old Tottenham Rooms," etc., whither we need not follow the Lady Albina any farther. PARATHINA 1 Louis

de Bachaumont (1690-1771). Piron (1689-1771), French dramatist noted for his epigrams. 3 "Waved off." * Responses to the query define the term as the Flemish name for ornamented loving cups. The word is variously spelled. 5 Henry Angelo (1760-1839?), fencing master to the elite at his school in Soho, published Reminiscences in 1830. 2 Alexis

To George Crabbe MarkethiU, Woodbridge Decr 28/60 My dear George, Thank you for asking about me. Yes, I do very well here:1 the Lodging cheerful, warm, and convenient (only the Privy quite public) the People quiet, honest, careful, and old-fashioned. I really like it better than Lowestoft, I think. Peter Parley2 is my chief Company: he has (it is supposed) written a Letter against Woodbridge, its Trades­ men and Riflemen, in the Suffolk Chronicle which has stirred Venge­ ance against him. I really thought some one would beat him: but it blows over. He is a worthless Man enough: but he does for me at a Pass. My Brother John is at Boulge with Gerald,3 two of my Nieces, and the Hockleys. I have not yet mustered Resolution to go up; which is all wrong: but it will end in my being shot up, I suppose. Charles Walford4 has built a hideous vulgar red Cottage over the Lane leading to Archer's Cottage (that was) and over the Entrance to the Field-way

December 1860 which I have walked these fifty years. I wrote to tell him of this pretty sharply: he says he was always intending to replace the Footpath with one more convenient to the Public. If so, he could have made the new before taking away the old: it's a Sanctimonious Lie: he wanted quietly to do away with the Footpath and make his nasty Property "snug." Oh—I forgot to tell you I really ran to London three weeks ago: by the morning Express, and was too glad to rush back by the Evening Ditto. I went up for a Business I of course didn't accomplish: did not call on, or see, a Friend: couldn't get into the National Gallery: and didn't care a straw for HoIman Hunt's Picture.5 No doubt, there is Thought and Care in it: but what an outcome of several Years and sold for several Thousands! What Man with the Elements of a Great Painter could come out with a such a costive Thing after so long wait­ ing! Think of the Acres of Canvas Titian or Reynolds would have covered with grand Outlines and deep Colours in the Time it has taken to niggle this Miniature! The Christ seemed to me only a wayward Boy: the Jews, Jews no doubt: the Temple I dare say very correct in its Detail: but think of even Rembrandt's Woman in Adul­ tery at [the] National Gallery—a much smaller Picture, but how much vaster in Space and Feeling! Hunt's Picture stifled me with its Little­ ness. I think Ruskin must see what his System has led to.G I have just got Lady Waterford's "Babes in the Wood," which are well enough, pretty in Colour7—only, why has she made so bad a Portrait of one of her chief Performers, whose Likeness is so easily got at—the Robin Redbreast? This Lady Waterford was at Gillingham8 this Summer: and my Sister Eleanor said (as Thackeray had done) she was something almost to worship for Unaffected Dignity. Mrs. Berry (being asked) does not know now of any such House­ keeper as you speak of. Is she for yourself? I too shall soon be looking out, I think: for I really must find some place to die in: else I shall be caught with Paralysis or some such Thing in a Lodging. I always relied on Farlingay but I think Mr. Smith has been seriously shaken with his last Illness—never will be what he was: and may become so much less well as to make my Presence there not wanted. I really thought of Shaldham Cottage at Melton: but Mrs. Nixon at once renewed her Lease for three years more. I think I shall have to build a Tower! I am going to buy another Boat too. I heard of you from Miss Lynn.9 You know I should always be glad if you came to see me: but as for my going to you—I haven't yet got to Boulge! Yours E.FG.

January 1861 1 EFG

had left Farlingay Hall and taken rooms with Sharman Berry, a gun­ smith, in Market Hill, as the Woodbridge market place is called, EFG usually spells the name "Markethill." 2 William Martin of Woodbridge, one of many writers of miscellaneous works who adopted the pseudonym Peter Parley, published Peter Parley's Annual from 1840 until his death. "The dissipated habits and loose words of his later years seem to have caused his friends some anxiety," two of his fellow-townsmen re­ corded in DNB. FitzGerald, it will be noted, found him to be a reasonably enter­ taining companion. 3 John's son. 4 Of Foxburgh Hall, Melton. 5 "The Finding of the Saviour in the Temple" on view at the German Gallery in New Bond Street. Hunt had gone to Palestine in 1854 to study the people and culture in preparation for painting Biblical subjects. The picture was the chief product of the journey. Although the painting was severely criticized, the public showing—admission one shilling—realized £.4,000. The picture sold for £,5,500. 6 Holman Hunt was one of the Pre-Raphaelite artists whose works Ruskin had defended. One principal of the Pre-Raphaelites was uncompromising truth to nature, which, in practice, proved to be uncompromising adherence to exact detail. 7 The illustrations, by the Marchioness, were in color. 8 Gillingham Hall near Beccles. 9 Mary Lynn, a childhood friend of EFG.

To W. F. Pollock Markethill, Woodbridge Jan. 3/1861 My dear Pollock, Don't think me so dead and graceless that I don't think of you often, and want to hear of you from time to time. (I put in a word, which is the Truth however.)1 Let me wish you and Mrs. Pollock a Happy New Year: and do pray write and tell me that thus far it promises well to you and yours. I wish very much you would also tell me something of Spring Rice, whose Health and Fortunes (with a dozen Children) one wants to hear of. I should write to Spedding but I think he gets bored with one's Letters: but give him my old Love when you see him. I supposed Dixon was going to anticipate my old Serpent with Wisdom prigged out of his own Mouth:2 but the Extracts I saw in the Athe­ naeum didn't cause me much Fear on that score. I wish Punch would laugh at the Athenaeum's habit of referring to their old Numbers (sometimes twenty years back) for Prophecies and Anticipations. I often think I will change for another Weekly Paper; which is a good one? The Saturday is too clever. It was weak in Thackeray, I think, to

January 1861 fall foul of the "Superfine"3—not a good Nick-name, neither. I can't feel any great Anxiety to see the new Novel in the Cornhill:41 guess it will be only of the old Sort, of which I think we've had enough. I must say I like the Caricaturists (Dickens, etc.) better than Thackeray's few Photographs. The "Woman in White"5 comforted me with its Absurdi­ ties: a good Romancel I have found great Pleasure in some Books of Norway Travels: and a Mrs. Gretton's Book on Italy® told me some­ thing new of domestic Life there. But all this is very stale to you in London. How much staler then must be Holman Hunt's Picture which I at last saw when up in London for four hours some weeks ago! What an Upshot of Years of Labour! I certainly prefer the broader style of Titian, Reynolds: and Rembrandt's little Picture of the Woman in Adultery in the National Gallery seemed to me five hundred times as large and solemn as Hunt's costive Miniature. I had hoped to run in and see the new Pictures at the National Gallery: but it was shut up. I scarce like to tell you of my own ways of Life, because it seems as if one wished to be admired for obstinately preferring Stupidity— which is not my wish, however. Besides, I have nothing to tell you that you do not know before: having only come to this Woodbridge to winter in instead of Lowestoft as when last I wrote to you. Here we have no Sea, you know: but an Estuary (as the River may be called) which brings up Salt water and Sea Breezes and is really a great Pleasure to sail on in Summer time. I am looking out for a larger Boat,7 and will give you a Sail if you come, promising not to manage it myself. Present Mrs. Pollock with this genuine Suffolk Stanza. To my Fiddel When on't I play, and to't I sing, I make the Woods and Wallies ring: And Folks do say, though you may smile, It may be heard a'most a Mile. Yours and hers always truly Edward FitzGerald 1 EFG

had inserted "often" in the first sentence. William Hepworth Dixon, editor of the Athenaeum, 1853-69, published The Personal History of Lord Bacon in 1861, a few months before the appearance of the first volume of Spedding's Letters and Life of Francis Bacon. 3 Thackeray dubbed the Saturday Review "the Superfine Review" in "De Juventute," his Roundabout essay in the ComhiU for October, 1860. Thackeray and the editors of the Review tilted with each other, not amicably, a number of times. 2

January 1861 4 The Adventures of Philip, Thackeray's last complete novel, was published in the Comhill, 1861-62. 5 Wilkie Collins' novel, published in All the Year Round in 1860. Probably the first novel to deal with the detection of crime, it was long a favorite of EFG's. β The Englishwoman in Italy, 2 vols., 1860. 7 That is, larger than the river boat he had bought the previous July.

To Caroline Crabbe1 Markethill, Woodbridge Sunday Jan./61 Dear Miss Crabbe, Pray let me hear from you how you and yours have got through this Weather: which has been severe even in your milder Latitude, I sup­ pose.2 Has there been much Distress thereabout? I think there must have been. This Woodbridge has perhaps been better off than most places: as, beside private Subscription for Coal, they have got £.100 from the Seckford Trust3 for this special occasion. There now resides at the Abbey4 (having rented it of Mr. Bingham) a Reverend Mr. Bernard,5 whose Family as also his Wife's (she tells me) is from the West of England. Do you know of the Name? He is a scholarly Gentleman, Editor of (I think) the "Christian Observer" and I was introduced to him by Robert Groome who, I suppose, writes in the same. Mr. and Mrs. Bernard are very active among the Poor: Mr. Mellere having given out some while since that he was not a "Relieving officer" (his own word) but a Spiritual Instructor. Well, Mr. Bernard comes in here to my Lodging sometimes: and we fall in together walk­ ing sometimes: but I have not set foot in the Abbey. What will you think of my not having been even up to Boulge where my Brother and a Family Party have been this Month! I am not very well, and hardly know what to make of myself: but anyhow do best here in my own Quarters. John and his two Sons drop in several Times a Week: Maurice seems improved in Looks and Affability. I suppose I shall go to Geldestone again ere long; but my Sister has been coming over to Boulge: only the Weather daunted her. All the World is preparing, I suppose, for the Grand Event of Lord Rendlesham's Coming of Age:7 early in February, I think: and doubt­ less many Heart-aches as to Who is invited, and to what. It was a very silly Thing of him to withdraw himself and his Subscription from the Rifles because Brooke did. They have now got a Captain to their

January 1861 Hearts' Content: Rolla Rouse: a good little Fellow: I met him two Days [ago] looking quite tight, bright-eyed and vivacious: he is to enter his own home on the Hill where Mr. Reeve inhabits: and Mr. Reeve (I hear) to go to that new Farm house by Bredfield House, re-built for "Sharper Smith." I have been quarrelling with Charles Walford for blocking up with a hideous new Cottage the old Lane that led to Archer's Cottage, and was an Entrance to the old Footpath that went to Bredfield. He declares he always meant to make another, and better Entrance, to the Footpath: and will when the Frost goes: to which I say, why didn't he do it before he built over it? It is all very well: but, if no one had spoken, he would quietly have merged the Footpath to make his little Property snug. There is a sort of sancti­ monious knavery about the Man. in that way. I will one day send you the Copy of a Letter I wrote him, but did not send all. I asked him what your Father would have said! You see I tell you all the Suffolk, or Woodbridge, News I can: but I write it so badly that I doubt you will hardly make it out. If you ever know of some good Housekeeper-woman of middle age hereabout, do tell me. I think I must get into some place of my own: else I shall one Day be caught with Illness in a strange house. The People here are very kind and attentive: and with a very little more Convenience I should do well enough: but this Convenience is not to be got: I mean, another Room, etc. This is Sunday night, and the Chimes are now playing the Sicilian Mariners Hymn for 9 P.M. Mr. Causton8 paid me a Visit some time ago, and held forth really unimpeachable Sentiments till I was very tired of him. He is a really good Man. Peter Parley has (or his Son, or both) written a Letter in the Suffolk Chronicle against Woodbridge and its Tradesmen which makes them hate him. I wonder they don't beat him, or duck him in a Pond. He comes here and amuses me a little: and as I have told him several Times what my Estimation of his Veracity is, I wash my hands of all Deception toward him: he says he doesn't believe that I mean what I say. He also says he is wasting—in Bulk—but I don't perceive that. Well, now I must have done. Tell your Cousin George he can sell the Railway Debentures at Coutts whenever he goes to London: or can have it done if he wants it. Yours and Mary's always E.FG. Do send this Letter to George: to let him also know what we are about in Woodbridge.

January 1861 1 One of the daughters of George Crabbe of Bredfield who, with her sister Mary, was living at Bradford-on-Avon in Wiltshire. 2 According to the Annual Register, Christmas, I860, was the coldest day in Britain in fifty years ("Chronicle," I860, p. 199); and some of the lowest tem­ peratures in England were reported from East Anglia. Heavy snow and the cold, which held for a month, created widespread unemployment. 3 Income from property in Clerkenwell, London, provides funds for a trust estab­ lished by Thomas Seckford (1515P-1588), member of an ancient Suffolk family. Created initially for almshouses with a hospital at Woodbridge, the endowment has produced so large an income that numerous benefactions, including funds for distribution among the needy of the town, have been added to the philanthropies of the Trust. Seckford Hall, the family seat of the benefactor, is at nearby Great Bealings. 4 A 16th-century mansion built by Thomas Seckford adjacent to St. Mary's Church in the center of town. It is now part of the Woodbridge Grammar School. 5 Peregrine Bingham; Thomas Dehany Bernard. 6 Thomas W. Meller, Rector of St. Mary's Church, Woodbridge. 7 Frederick William Thellusson (1840-1911), fifth Lord Rendlesham of Rendlesham Hall near Woodbridge, who inherited a singular fortune upon reaching his majority February 9. His great-grandfather, who died in 1797, had bequeathed over £ 600,000 to be held in trust for two generations "for the purpose of accumu­ lation." The young lord thereby became heir to the estate, a good share of which had evaporated in court actions. The will also stipulated that accruing capital should be invested in rural properties, which accounts in part for EFG's oftexpressed resentment when farms in the area were added to the extensive Rendlesham estate. 8 William Causton, the organist.

To Notes and Queries [EAST ANGLIAN WORDS]

[January 26,1861] Will any of your readers give me a probable derivation of "Dutfin, the bridle in cart-harness," as explained by Moor and Forby, but with­ out any etym., by either. Gast or Ghast-cow, a cow not in calf when she should be, as also interpreted by them; Forby only proposing "A.S. Gast, Spiritus:" and Moor, quoting "Gast-ware," and "Gast-beast and Heifer," from two SuflFolk inventories of the seventeenth century. And, lastly, a word that Moor only notes, spells, and explains: "Futnon, now and then; 'every Futnon.' Ray1 calls it a Sussex word, 'Fet n anon.' It may be derived from future and anon, after and soon; 'Every foot anon,' every now and then. Cullum's Hawstead." So far

January 1861

Moor. I never heard the word "from the fountain," but only as reported by a clergyman, whom a poor sick woman had been telling of her "getting a little sleep every futinon." So he pronounced it. Having asked for information about these words, will you take it about two others which have "suffer'd a sea-change" along these coasts, and are not recorded in our local Glossaries? (I think, indeed, most provincial glossarists have kept mainly inland, neglecting the sea­ board, where some "ancient and fish-like" phraseology still subsists.) Spoon-drift, spray. A sailor, telling me of the gale on last 3rd Octo­ ber, said, that though it was a cloudless mid-day, the spoon-drift flew so thick over the vessel as to "cut the sun right into little stars." I was wondering at the word (which I have since found is pretty generally used), till I remembered old Dryden's "barbarous" line (he owes much of his vigour to the vigorous slang he caught up):— "When Virtue spooms before a prosperous gale, My heaving wishes help to fill the sail."2 The word in this its first stage of alteration I find quoted in Richard­ son from Brooke and Beaumont and Fletcher. It then naturally got to spoon among the sailors, I suppose; and Halliwell quotes from a Sea Dictionary of 1708,—"To spoon—or spooning—is putting a ship right before the wind and the sea," without any sail, it says, unless foresail, as being generally done in a storm, when Dryden's good wishes would scarce have helped the good ship Virtue. Surely this "barbarous" spoom is a word we may be glad to recover under Dryden's sanction: how spoilt if properly spelt! I cannot say so much for my second word, which, however, I con­ sider the "prize enigma" of lucky discovery, and worth recording to show what changes a word may go through and come to. A young sailor was telling me how, one blowing night at sea, they had Compos­ ites on the mastheads. I was beginning to wonder at "Price's Patent" in such a place at such a time, when an older hand corrected us. "Composants he mean, Sir;" the meteors that are well known to light on vessels at such seasons. But, then, why composants? I then remembered Dampier's telling of a "corpus sant" appearing on his masthead, "a Spanish or Portuguese corruption of corpus sanctum," he says, and con­ sidered by them, as also by those then with him, as a good sign (when seen aloft, at least), so much so that "I have been told that when they see them they presently go to prayer, and bless themselves for the happy sight." When seen on deck the Englishmen thought it a bad omen. "I have heard some ignorant seamen discoursing how they have

January 1861 seen them creep or (as they say) travel about in the scuppers, telling many dismal stories that happen'd at such times," etc. Query, Why will no one reprint the whole, or a good abstract, of Dampier's fine Voyages?—and (now one is about it) all Dryden's Prefaces,3 which Johnson notices as things sui generis quite? PARATHINA 1John Ray (1627-1704), A Collection of English Words, "not generally used." Sir John CuIIum (1733-85), The History and Antiquities of Hawstead and Hardwick, Suffolk. 2 The Hind and the Panther, III, 96-97. Dr. Johnson objected to "spoom." 3 FitzGeraId himself had already ventured to work on these projects. Into a commonplace book, now in Trinity College Library, he copied numerous passages from Dampier's accounts of his voyages and explorations. Another volume contains 21 prefaces extracted from an edition of Dryden's works. The prefaces have been subjected to EFG's customary editorial practices—passages are crossed out, and here and there summarizing paragraphs of his own bridge deletions.

To Alfred Tennyson Farlinpau:1 Woodbridae Jan.: 27/61 My dear old Alfred, Some twice a Year I write just to ask how you are: for I don't cease to want to know you are well. But you yourself would hardly care to be written to oftener for such a Purpose: nor Mrs. Tennyson neither who generally has to answer. She or you must write me a Line, how­ ever: it is now a good half year since I heard of you: yes, last July was the last. What a little while it seems. I have not left this Neighbourhood since that time, except to go for four hours to London on Business which I didn't get to do, and ran back strangely glad to run to Earth in this dull Place. The only thing I saw in London was H. Hunt's Picture: not worth, I say, the Time, Pains, and Money, and Admiration, bestowed upon it. Is it? I should be glad to hear about Frederick: I wrote him last—a long Letter, I think: but I would write him again if I had more to say than —I now have to you, you see! Only, let me hear from one of you how you are, and believe me always and always yours E.FG. 1 EFG's memory may have slipped in heading this letter and the following, to Spring Rice, "Farlingay." Letters to Spring Rice April 20 and 25 are similarly headed.

January 1861

To Stephen Spring Rice Farlingay, Woodbridge Jan. 27/61 My dear Spring Rice, I have asked about you many times: and at last heard of you from Pollock some three weeks ago. You had been seen in London, and were, he said, not about to winter abroad, I think. However, I think best on the whole to enclose my Letter to old Spedding who will forward it to you, and perhaps—but that is much less likely—give me a Line one Day to say he has done so. Now—I write much rather to hear about you than to tell about myself—who truly have nothing to tell. I wrote to you last from Lowestoft: where I was till May last: and then came to Woodbridge where I have been ever since except little Trips to my Sister's in Nor­ folk—and four hours in London!—my first Appearance there these two Years almost. I have been very pleased sailing about on our River, as also going to Aldbro to do so, this last Summer: which, though wet, never failed in a Breeze. A Boat builder1 is coming over to me on Wednesday to consult about a new Boat. My Boatman is just com­ mitted for Burglary.2 I haven't been over-well: Ears ringing during the Summer (I say I shall have to don a Welsh Wig to keep the Wind out of them) and Stomach queasy now—Hooray! When I was last staying in London—two years ago—I bought an injured bit of Wilson Landscape about the size of one you used to have. And remembering yours, I got mine framed in Black (only with a gold Border) which I contend is most suitable to some Pictures. Have you got yours still—and in Ireland? or if left and not wanted in Eng­ land will you sell it me for a Companion to mine? I think I remember you also bought it from a Dealer's Window, as I did mine. Well—enough of that—when I was in London for my four hours I managed to see H. Hunt's Picture which is a sad Humbug I think compared with the Time and Money and Pains it has cost. And to see People worship such a Miniature! I wrote to Mrs. Frere two or three weeks ago, wanting not only to hear of her but to pay her a little yearly Subscription to a poor Woman at Aldbro. But I have not yet heard from her: pray do be so kind as to tell me something of her and hers. Tell me that you and yours are well, as this World goes; give all I know my kind old Regards: and do pray believe me, my dear Spring Rice, your truly unforgetful, though invisible, old Friend E.FG.

February 1861 1 William 2 See

Wright of Beccles, who built the Waveney. letter to Spring Rice, April 20.

To Notes and Queries [France Past and Present] [February 9,1861 ] The following passage, written by the Marquis D'Argenson in the middle of last century, suggests some curious speculations in the mid­ dle of this:— "La Lecture des Memoires de Sully m'a souvent fait naitre cette Pensee, que, pour bien gouverner des Frangais, il faut un phlegme, une perseverance, une tenacite de vues qui se rencontrent bien rarement chez notre Nation inconstante et legere. Quetaieat Sully et M. Colbert? De bons Flamands, des Hollandais renforces, gens de peu d'Esprit, de nulle Imagination, mais a idees saines et correctes, ne s'en departant jamais. Remarquez encore comme ces Generaux Allemands conduisent merveilleusement nos Armees. Cette rudesse du Nord est bien preferable (pour tout ce qui tient aux vertus du Commandement) a la turbulence du Midi, a cette Fourberie Italienne, qui a gagne notre Politique. Le trop d'esprit a gate nos Affaires: Ie bon sens peut seul Ies reparer."—Memoires du Marquis D'Argenson, Paris, 1825, p. 307. France was the "Sick Man" then:— "Comme on plaisante ici sur Ies choses Ies plus serieuses, il court un Epigramme sur Ie Cardinal dont je n'ai retenu que Ie trait. La France est un Malade que, depuis cent ans, trois Medecins de Rouge vetus, ont successivement traite. Le premier (Richelieu) l'a saigne: Ie second (Mazarin) l'a purge: et Ie troisieme (Fleury) l'a mis a la Diete."—Ibid. p. 331. PARATHINA

To Notes and Queries [Dryden's Prefaces] [February 16,1861 ] Will "N. & Q.," which have helped to suggest a collected edition of these Prefaces,1 care to quote the passage from Johnson, which en­ hances them almost to self-disparagement? The Poems they lead to

February 1861

might be found "tedious," which the Prefaces themselves never are: though little harm will follow should the reader be induced to look elsewhere for whatever "Glorious John" has written about so gloriously. Surely some good publisher might present us in one volume with these Prefaces now scattered through so many: and I think he will not need a better advertisement or authority than what follows, or part of it:— "Criticism, either didactic or defensive, occupies almost all his prose, except those pages which he has devoted to his Patrons: but none of his Prefaces were ever thought tedious. They have not the Formality of a settled Style in which the first half of the Sentence betrays the other. The Clauses are never balanced, nor the Periods modell'd: every word seems to drop by chance, though it falls into its proper Place. Nothing is cold or languid: the whole is airy, animated, and vigorous: what is little is gay: what is great is splendid. He may be thought to mention himself too frequently: but while he forces himself upon our esteem, we cannot refuse him to stand high in his own. Every thing is excused by the Play of Images and the spriteliness of Expression. Though all is easy, nothing is feeble: though all seems careless, there is nothing harsh: and though, since his earlier Works, more than a Century has passed, they have nothing yet uncouth or obsolete.— He who writes much will not easily escape a Manner: such a recurrence of particular Modes as may be easily noted. Dryden is always another and the same: he does not exhibit a second time the same Ele­ gancies in the same form, nor appear to have any Art other than that of expressing with Clearness what he thinks with vigour. His Style could not easily be imitated, either seriously or ludi­ crously: for, being always equable, and always varied, it has no prominent or discriminative Characters.— The Beauty who is totally free from Disproportion of Parts and Features cannot b e ridiculed by a n over-charged Resemblance." Johnson's Life of Dryden, etc. N.B.— I quote from a very common 12mo. ed. of 1793. One must include among his Prefaces some of "the Pages devoted to his Patrons," i.e. Dedications; which make quite as good amends for their over­ praise of others as Johnson says atones for self-praise in the Prefaces. PARATHINA 1 EFG's

casual suggestion of January 26.

February 1861

To Mowbray Donne Markethill: Woodbridge February 17, [1861] My dear Mowbray, I am very much obliged to you indeed for taking Trouble about the Cigars. I am so bad a Judge myself that I try to get others to judge for me: and I don't think Woodbridge abounds in Connoisseurs. Three of the most reliable I can get hold of, however, pronounce the Cabanas to be much better than the Partagas: and a very good Cigar. A Banker's Clerk indeed wrote me word it was "such a Weed as the Gods might smoke when they went a nutting." My Lad also, from Aldboro, whose Mouth one would have thought desecrated by Shag and Cavendish, pronounced at once tor Cabanas over Partagas:—:SO as I will have more of Cabanas when I want. Indeed, it might be well to lay in a little Store now. However I enclose P.O. with many Thanks for what I have had. I can only wonder your dear old Dad has kept his Head well so long with all the work he has given it: and Heart too. Mine would have given way long, long ago. You must not let him hack away his Brain at Reviews, etc. He surely need not: you must get him out. I certainly hope he will come for a Blow here: when fine weather comes: not before: for the Place is only for "Mark Tapley" as F. Tennyson calls me, at present. I have had my young Sailor here for a Visit: it is now his turning Point of Life: whether he is to stay with Father, Mother, and Sweet­ heart, fishing at Aldbro:—or go out in a Square-rigg'd Vessel (humph!) for five or six years, and learn what will qualify him to come home and be a Pilot. This would be best for him: but "Father and Mother and Sue"—and even E. F.G.—don't want to lose Sight of him so long, perhaps for ever, some of us. February 17 Since writing the foregoing, I have been over to Aldboro, and we are to stay on shore with a Boat which was to be begun yesterday—to be finished (it is hoped) in time for Herrings and Pleasuring. I have made Acquaintance with the "Sweetheart" too: (a nice looking Girl) and have even proposed that for the Name of the New Boat. No doubt the Lad would have done best going out to Sea, as I said: it will be a Life of something near Penury on Shore, I think, when the Sweetheart

February 1861 becomes Mrs and breeds accordingly. As it is, they scarce get a Bit of Meat once a Week: whereas, on Board, they have plenty—as you have of the Subject. I was not surprized to hear of Donaldson's Death1 after what your Dad had written to me about him. One begins now to look out for one's Contemporaries falling from the Bough—as also—but one must not be egotistical. My love to Dad and Sisters.2 Always yours, E.F.G. I should really like to know if one could make sure of Don Pereira sending one a Pound more of the Cabanas if one wanted. The Partagas are said to be coarse, and very inferior. 1 On

Feb. 10, 1861. sisters, Blanche and Valentia.

2 Mowbray's

To W. B. Donne Markethill, Woodbridge Feb. 28, [1861 ] My dear old Donne, Though my letter won't reach you Tomorrow, yet I write to you as soon as I can to thank you for yours of this morning. . . . I have not been well and we're all growing old: and 'tis time to think of curling oneself up like a Dog about to lie down. Had I worked as you have done, I should have given way years and years ago: but like a selfish Beast, I have kept out of obligations and self-sacrifices. I only say this in self-defence: that, if I don't exert myself for other's Good, I don't do so for their harm; and if I keep selfishly to myself, at least don't intrude on others. Enough of all that. It is a very poor Business. You must take care of yourself: not be always writing Reviews, etc.: and working right and left for every one except yourself. When fine weather comes, come down here and float on the poor old Deben with me: but don't come while all is dead and dismal, unless to one of the "Mark Tapley" species as F. Tennyson calls me. Is Borrow's Welsh Book out?1 I want to see the "Quarterly," where I am told is some account of what is to be in the Book, but I see no Review here.2

April 1861 1 Wild Wales, published in 1862. Borrow had been at work on the book since 1854. 2 Transcribed from Donne and Friends, p. 251, where the conclusion of the letter is omitted.

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge April 9/61 My dear Donne, Do let me hear how you are. Mowbray's last Note said you were out of Town. I also have been out of Town (Woodbridge) for the last three weeks—at Geldestone, where there is the usual amount of mortal Sorrow and Sickness. Else, my only Excursions are to the Sea coast: where yesterday I got a Sail out to Sea in spite of the Cold: indeed it was warmer in the Boat than Ashore. I have a new Boat coming here in a Week: but the River seems like a Ditch after the old Mumbojumbo Sea. What of Fechter's "Gimblet."1 What says Spedding? what Preciosa Pollock;2 who settles such Things in her Drawing room. But what says the Serpent3 of that Article in the Times about Bacon! I had a kind Note from Thackeray some ten days ago: but the Author is in his Letters now. He says he has often to write when only just able to do so after one of his Illnesses: and that his Age for Novelwriting is past. It is a pity he was not convinced of this before, I think. Love to all. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 Charles A. Fechter (1824-79), French actor who deserted the Paris stage for London's in 1860. His Hamlet, which had opened March 20 at the Princess's Thea­ ter, was a notable success. The actor ended his career in the United States. "Gim­ blet" was Thackeray's corruption of Hamlet. 2 Mrs. Pollock. 3 EFG occasionally refers to Spedding as the "Serpent" or "Subtle Serpent."

April 1861

To Mowbray Donne Markethilh Woodbridge April 15/61 My dear Mowbray,

I think your Father is not in Town else he would have told me how he was before this. That is really all I wanted to know: and, if he be out, I want you to tell me, in as few words as you will. Your last Note said he was then out of Town, and you hoped he would continue away some while: and I have heard nothing since, only that my Niece Lusia wrote that she had met your Sisters lately. Well—if you have time for more than to tell me Dad is well—tell me bow you like the new Hamlet? Little Churchyard here, being up in Town on Business, dropt in to see a Play of Shakespeare at the Princess: with a strong Prejudice against any Foreigner doing it: but he came out quite Enchanted, as with a new and true thing, though he had seen Kemble, Macready, etc. I should like to see this and Albina de Rhona1 but what's the use of my talking! My new Boat comes home next week: but the River pales before old ·πολίφλοισβο>>2 to whom I keep running once a week and putting "my hand upon his Mane"3 in spite of the NE. wind. We are building another Boat there, and making all Sorts of Nets, and other "Gear" (g hard, not as j) which makes quite a hole in my Pocket and will turn out of little good, I doubt.4 Yours always, E.FG. Ballet dancer who was performing at Drury Lane. "Loud-roaring [sea]." 3 Byron's Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto IV, stanza 184. 4 The boat was built for James Fisher and his sons, Ted and Walter, whom EFG had befriended. 1 2

To Stephen Spring Rice Farlingay, Woodbridge April 20/61 My dear Spring Rice,

Though it is Saturday—and no Post Day hence—yet I will write to you at once to thank you for the Photograph that has this morning reached me. It is capital, I think: and goes to make me begin to think

April 1861 well of that Black Art which generally turns out one's Friends like Murderers, alive or after hanging. Old Spedding sent me one of him­ self some weeks ago: I believe, on purpose to plague me: like, in the upper Looks of the Face: but such a Mouth! "In re" Mouth, where these Things mainly fail (I am told because the red of the Lip turns black in the Process) you bearded Pards have an Advantage. I can't help thinking that "in re" Mouth, too, a little Colour restores what is lost: but Spedding (I think) or some other much better Judge than myself told me that Colour disturbed the Sun's Process—or rather, Effect. I shall not use your Likeness for a Book-Mark, by any means: but get it put into the best little Frame I can get down here and hang it over my Mantelpiece. I only wish it were on a larger Scale: for I have now to put on Glasses to see my old and dear Friend with. But He is worth the Trouble. You don't give a good Story of yourself. But we have had a Winter, and are now having a Spring, to try any but the old English Beef, which is less and less to be found among us. The Sickliness of the young People and Children now is remarkable. I hear that even the Iron Carlyle has somewhat shaken his Powers of Work by Work: he wrote me himself that he was obliged to lie by last Summer: but he scorned the Doctor's Story of any sort of Conges­ tion in the Brain. But what so likely in one of his Temper and Habits at his Age? My dear old Donne, again, has been screwing up the Fid­ dle too tight: hurting himself by working so hard where there was no so great Necessity, I think. I have little to tell of Myself: having not stirred from this Neighbor­ hood since I last wrote, unless it was running to London on Business for four hours, and so glad to run back and hide my head here! This too may be Disease: and now incurable. My only Excursion, almost, is to old Aldeburgh, where I run over to have a Toss on the Sea, and a Smoke with the Sailors. We have Grog and Pipes in a little Tavern kitchen: and sometimes in a sort of Net-house; where (on a Saturday Night) we sing songs too! One of the Songs is "The Pride of Aldbro," and I gain Applause in "Pretty Peg of Derby O!" The Childishness and Sea language of these People pleases me. We are getting a good big Boat made for Fish and Company in Summer: and a smaller one is coming over to this River Deben. Oh, I wish you could and would come over to us some Day: I always promise my Friends to leave all management of the Boat, etc., to the Sailor: though mine very nearly drowned me last Summer. He, however, was a poor careless Devil whom I employed because no one else would: and he, having nothing

April 1861 else on his hands in Winter, broke into a House: and is sentenced to fifteen Months Imprisonment.1 So he is off my hands. But he had Fun in him: and the more respectable Men are duller. At Aldbro I have a delightful Lad, as strong as a Horse, simple as a Child—loyal to Father and Mother, and with a Sweetheart who keeps his Heart in the right place, he thinks. He rather inclines to the Sentimental Song (I sup­ pose, being in Love) and I was pleased one Day when I was uncon­ sciously repeating some of Sir W. Scott's Verses in the Pirate to my­ self, the Lad creeping up, "I should like to hear that again, Sir: somehow you know Songs something like ours, only better." I gloried in Sir Walter finding his Place at once in a common Sailor's Heart. I always do glory in Sir Walter's writing a few Songs more sweet and tender than all the Coleridges, etc. Do you read Adam Bede, etc. Pi I have not yet found an Appetite for them, though I do not doubt they are very good. Thackeray is really becoming a Nuisance with his half dozen disagreeable Photo­ graphs: Dickens always has something to delight me with his Carica­ tures: and I go very comfortable into Company in Trollope's Novels. Here is a Farrago for a Letter! But I have written it off as it came into my Head, with your Portrait lying before me. I wish you would write to me sometimes. I heard of you from old Spedding who had dined with you some Weeks ago. Please to remember me kindly to Wife and Family, and believe me always yours E.FG. 1 During the Suffolk Lent Assizes at Ipswich, Alfred Hurrell was sentenced to fifteen months' imprisonment for the theft of £ 8 8s and miscellaneous articles from a Woodbridge home. Snow covered the ground the night of January 15 when the theft took place and Hurrell, who had a police record, confessed to the crime after it was shown that footprints at the scene matched those made by his boots. The sole of one boot had been patched (Ipswich Journal, Jan. 24 and March 23, 1861). 2 Silas Mamer, George Eliot's third novel, had gone on sale April 2. Adam Bede had been published in 1859; The Mill on the Floss, 1860.

To Stephen Spring Rice Farlingay, Woodbridge April 25/61 My dear Spring Rice, Something about the "Pope's Tiara" in your Letter of this Morning reminds me of the grave Judgment of a little Niece of mine concerning

April 1861 that Tiara. I was looking at some Picture of the Pope in his Triple Crown, and said to the Child (who was sitting at her Mother's side)— "What would you think, Nelly, of the Pope's wearing Three Crowns on the Top of his Head at once?" She looked as grave as Children can look (and who graver?) and said—"I should tell his Mother of it." My new Boat1 is come to the Deben and has undergone all the nautical Criticism of Woodbridge. Twice have I been out, but (thank God, for the Land's sake!) the Wind has fluttered and dropt so as we couldn't make much of it. "Sixteen feet long, by 5 1/2 broad, and 21 Inches deep." There—you are a Mathematician as well as a Sailor, and can compute what the Likelihoods of such a Boat are. My Boatman said, "She'll do all but speak," but he is partial, I doubt. Today a fresh Trial is to be made: but (thank God again!) the Weather promises to be too fine still. We have a pretty word here for these fluttering light winds—you will see how pleasantly compounded—"No steady Breeze; but only little fannyiri Winds, that died at Sunset," etc. Another such Suffolk word is—"Why do you stand there, bettyin about your work," etc. You will think I am become a most desperate Cockney Sailor! That 1 wear a Cap, and short Jacket and Ducks: chaw: and rap out, "Dash my Marlin-spikes," etc. But this is not so. I like indeed, and always have liked, Sea, Sailors, and Ships; but here at Woodbridge I get to the Water partly because it is not the Stage of so many of the best old Actors dead and gone as the Land is. In half the Parish Churchyards hereabout lie some of the old Characters I knew all my Life: Old Crabbe on one side: Major Moor on another: our old "Squire"2 and his Sister in another: and so on. I say the Country is become in some sort a Cemetery to me: but none of my old Friends were drowned. Shrubs (evergreen) have suffered hereabout as you say with you. But this Spring is thus far certainly better than last year's: less wet, if not much warmer: and two Almanacks have foretold better weather after the 23rd of this month, when really better weather did set in, however long to last. The Wind, I hear, has at last taken to go round along with the Sun instead of contrariwise: which is thought a Good Sign. We must pray for a better Harvest this year. Yours always E.FG. Don't answer this: but do let me hear of you sometimes. 1 The Waveney, a 2-ton, half-decked boat measuring 16 feet long, 5¾ feet broad, 2 feet 3 inches deep. 2 Squire Jenney.

May 1861

To Notes and Queries [Whittington and his Cat] [ M a y 11,1861] In Blackwood's Mag. for July, 1825, is an Eastern story of a wondrous cat, quoted from Morier's Travels, and thought to be identified with Whittington's. Have any of your querists noted, or will they care to note, this?1 By-the-bye, you lately noted how one of Talleyrand's reputed mots had been abroad in Paris a generation or more before he was likely to utter it. Now for one of Dr. Johnson's:2— "II y a ici un fameux Joueur de Violon, qui fait des Prodiges sur sa Chanterelle. Un homme disait a un autre: 'Monsieur, n'etes vous pas enchante? Sentez vous combien cela est difficile?' 'Ah, Mon­ sieur,' dit l'autre, 'je voudrais que cela fut impossible!'" Madame du Deffand to Voltaire, July, 1769. PARATHINA 1 A controversy over the Whittington legend had begun in Notes and Queries in March. James Morier (1780-1849), better known for his picaresque Hafji Baba of Ispahan, in 1812 and 1818 published accounts of journeys through Persia. 2 "Sunday, July 31, 1763 . . . 'Sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. It is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all'" (Boswell's Life of Johnson, 1791).

To Notes and Queries [Memoranda] [ M a y 11,1861] If this Latin plural be not proper English, what of the Greek phenomena, which the boldest Briton will hardly turn into phe­ nomenon®—unless in such a case as "infant phenomenons," etc. Surely, having laid hold of the singular of so many foreign words, we may as well take their plural also, without disfiguring them while adding to our own hissing terminations. PARATHINA

May 1861

To George Crabbe Markethill, Woodbridge Whit Monday [May 20,1861] My dear George, I took up this Sheet intending to enclose with it a long Letter from Drew,1 this morning received. But, on reading it over again, I think there are some things would more sadden than amuse you—about People's Deaths, etc., which I can't help being amused with, thinking of Drew's odd way. He seems very flourishing. I take Pleasure in my new little Boat: and last week went with her to Aldbro; and she "behaved" very well both going and returning; though, to be sure, there was not much to try her Temper.21 am so glad of this fine Whit Monday, when so many Holiday-makers will enjoy theirselves, and so many others make a little money by their Enjoyment. Our "Rifles" are going to march to Grundisburgh, manuring and skrimmaging as they go, and also (as the Captain hopes) recruiting. He is a right good little Fellow, I do believe. It is a shame the Gentry hereabout are so indifferent in the Matter: they subscribe next to nothing: and give absolutely nothing in the way of Entertainment or Attention to the Corps. But we are split up into the pettiest possible Squirarchy, who want to make the utmost of their little territory: cut down all the Trees, level all the old Violet Banks, and stop up all the Footways they can. The old pleasant way from Hasketon to Bredfield is now a Desert. I was walking it yesterday and had the pleasure of breaking down and through some Bushes and Hurdles put to block up a fallen Stile. I thought what your Father would have said of it all. And really it is the sad ugliness of our once so pleasant Fields that half drives me to the Water where the Power of the Squirarchy stops! But, my dear George, your Lord's3 solemn explication of my little French sentence, which was clearly and shortly enough—"First Day we were thinking ourselves in Italy: next day we did think ourselves in Lapland." I have no doubt however Lord W. is right in saying "The expression is probably correct"—though not so right in adding "though probably more so than the Writer was aware of"—that writer being the Chevalier de BoufiBers,4 one of the most elegant Writers of his own Language. Yours always E.FG. 1 H.

S. Drew, Curate of Pettistree.

May 1861 2 EFG

had selected a favorable day for his first cruise to Aldeburgh in the Waveney. "You have to be pretty keen on sailing and the sea to make a trip from the Deben to the Aide [five miles north] in a sixteen foot boat." So writes Frank V. Hussey, an Ipswich yachtsman, who adds that the entrance to the Aide is "tricky" and the waters over the shingle bar turbulent even under "a fairly light breeze." (See letter to Spring Rice, Sept. 23, 1862.) Aldeburgh, nevertheless, be­ came one of EFG's favorite ports of call. 3 Lord Walsingham, Crabbe's patron. 4Stanislaus Jean BouiBers (1737-1815), French statesman and writer.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill, Woodbridge May 22161 My dear Cowell, I receive two Books, via Geldestone, from you: Khold-i-barin1 (in­ cluding a Lecture of your own)2 and "Promises of Christianity": I think directed in your Wife's hand. The Lecture was, I doubt not, very well adapted to its purpose: the other two Publications I must look at by and bye. I can't tell you how indolent I have become about Books: some Travels and Biographies from Mudie are nearly all I read now. Then, I have only been in London some dozen hours these two years past: my last Expedition was this winter for five hours: when I ran home here like a beaten Dog. So I have little to tell you of Friends as of Books. Spedding hammers away at his Bacon (impudently forestalled by H. Dixon's Book). Carlyle is not so up to work as of old (I hear). Indeed, he wrote me he was ill last Summer, and obliged to cut Fred­ erick and be off to Scotland and Idleness: the Doctors warned him of Congestion of Brain: a warning he scorned. But what more likely? The last account I had of Alfred Tennyson from Mrs. A. was a good one. Frederic T. is settled at Jersey.31 cannot make up my mind to go to see any of these good, noble men: I only hope they believe I do not forget, or cease to regard them. My chief Amusement in Life is Boating, on River and Sea. The Country about here is the Cemetery of so many of my oldest Friends: and the petty race of Squires who have succeeded, only use the Earth for an Investment: cut down every old Tree: level every Violet Bank: and make the old Country of my Youth hideous to me in my Decline. There are fewer Birds to be heard, as fewer Trees for them to resort to. So I get to the Water: where Friends are not buried nor Pathways

May 1861 stopt up: but ail is, as the Poets say, as Creation's Dawn beheld.4 I am happiest going in my little Boat round the Coast to Aldbro, with some Bottled Porter and some Bread and Cheese, and some good rough Soul who works the Boat and chews his Tobacco in peace. An Aldbro Sailor talking of my Boat said—"She go like a Wiolin, she do!" What a pretty Conceit, is it not? As the Bow slides over the Strings in a liquid Tune. Another man was talking yesterday of a great Storm: "and, in a moment, all as calm as a Clock." By the bye, Forby reasons that our Suffolk third person singular "It go," etc., is probably right as being the old Icelandic form. Why should die 3rd. p. sing, be the only one that varies? And in the auxiliaries May, Shall, Can, etc., there is no change for the 3rd pers. I incline to the Suffolk because of its avoiding a hiss. . . .5 . . . ascribed even his cutting of the supplies to childish Irritation, did he not combine a very aged Avarice with childish Passion? And it was still worse to draw Lord Rendlesham after him, just as he came of Age. But the Gentry hereabout are dead to all Public Spirit. 1 "Supreme Paradise," a history of Persia (1667) by Mohammed Yussef Gazvini, historian and poet known as Valeh, published in Lees's Persian Series, Calcutta,

1861. 2 Enclosed in the packet, "History of Commerce with India before the Existence of the East India Company," delivered at St. Paul's School, Calcutta, in February. 3 Frederick Tennyson had moved to the island of Jersey in 1859. 4 Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow; Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. Byron's Childe Harold, Canto IV, stanza 182 5 Three-quarters of the sheet has been cut off. The following fragment probably alludes to F. C. Brooke of Ufford. See letter to Caroline Crabbe, Jan., 1861.

To Notes and Queries [ Detrus ] [May 25,1861] Jaydee suggests Petrus for W.J.T.'s Detrus. I possess a "Holy Fam­ ily" on pannel, with the inscription— PETRUS · DEIN · GANATIS · FECIT · M.D.XLVIII. on a scroll on the left-hand corner of the pic­ ture. This date, W.J.T. will observe, is only two years later than that of the portrait he speaks of at Gorhambury; and I can speak of my picture as "admirably painted" also, though scoured (not, however,

June 1861 painted over) by some ignorant cleaner. The expression of the figures —Virgin, Child, St. Joseph, St. John, and St. Catherine, is very tender; and the colouring, as well as the character of the faces, has always made me refer it to the early Venetian School. But I have been as much in the dark about my Petrus1 as W.J.T. about his Detrus. Can Jaydee, or any other correspondent, help us further? PARATHINA 1 Still an elusive artist. He is identified merely as a mid-15th-century painter by Emmanuel Benezit, Dictionnaire des Peintres, Sculpteurs, etc., Paris, 1953; un­ listed by Bryant.

To George Crabbe MarkethiU, Woodbridge June 4/61 My dear George, Let me know when you come into these Parts, and be sure I shall be glad to entertain you as well as I can if you come while I am here. Nor am I likely to be away further than Aldbro, so far as I see. I do meditate crossing one fine Day to Holland: to see the Hague, Paul Potter, and some Rembrandt at Rotterdam. This, however, is not to be done in my little Boat: but in some Trader from Ipswich. I also talk of a cruise to Edinburgh in one of their Schooners. But both these Excursions I reserve for such hot weather as may make a retreat from the Town agreeable. I make no Advances to Farlingay, because (as yet) we have not had any such Heat as to bake the Houses here: and, beside, I am glad to be by the River. It is strange how sad the Country has become to me. I went inland to see Acton's Curiosities before the Auction: and was quite glad to get back to the little Town again. I am quite clear I must live the remainder of my Life in a Town: but a little one, and with a strip of Garden to saunter in. I went, as I say, to see Acton's Curiosities on a Day when (of course) scarce any were to be seen. I did not go to the Auction, but bought a few Scraps of old China at it. There was but little of Value in any way, I am told: the best things having been already parted with— lying in Pawn elsewhere. Poor Mrs. Acton (the Widow) is left sadly off, I believe. No News stirring hereabout that I hear of. You saw, or heard, of Lord Rendlesham's proposed marriage:1 but I now forget with whom.

June 1861 I go sometimes to see the Rifles drill, and shoot at their Target: and have got John to ask them up to Boulge to practise some day: I must insinuate that he should offer them some Beer when they get there. It is a Shame the Squires do nothing in the Matter: take no Interest: offer no Encouragement, beyond a Pound or two in Money. And who are those who have most interest at Stake in case of Rifles being really wanted? But I am quite assured that this Country is dying, as other Countries die—as Trees die, atop first. The lower Limbs are making all haste to Follow. I suppose your Sister Caroline is away from Bradford, as I see my Newspapers are directed by another Hand. I have been trying the "Saturday Review"—but I don't like it. They have given abstracts of Max Miiller's Lectures on Language, which must be very good. As they are to be published in a Volume when completed, I shall, I think, be silly enough to buy them. By the bye, don't let me'forget to ask you to bring with you my Persian Dictionary in case you come into these Parts. I read very very little: and get very desultory: but when Winter comes, again must take to some dull Study to keep from Suicide, I sup­ pose. The River, the Sea, etc., serve to divert one now. Adieu. These long Letters prove one's Idleness. Yours ever E.FG. 1 To Egidia, daughter of the Earl of Eglinton. The wedding took place on July 4.

To Alfred Tennyson Market-hiU: Woodbridge June 6/61 My dear old Alfred, About twice a Year I write to each of my old Friends—not for the sake of writing—but really anxious to know how they fare. If you won't, or can't, tell me—then Mrs. A.T. must. And she has been always very good in answering for you both. I had Carlyle's half yearly re­ port of himself and Wife a few Days ago: both much as usual. By the bye, he had heard you were thinking of leaving Wight—for Italy, or some far Land. Now this is one thing I must be told of. I think your Wife hinted in her last that your present "locality" (I hope you like, and use, this modern Auctioneer English) was becoming too peopled

July 1861 for your Taste. I have nothing (as usual) to tell of myself: never getting farther than Norfolk now. My usual Excursion is to our nearest Sea-port, Aldbro: where I go to get a Sail, and smoke a Pipe, with the Sailors. I have also got a new Boat on our poor little River here; and can even manage to sail with her round to Aldbro: but she is scarce fitted for the Sea. Of Books I see little except what Mudie supplies: and I can't find a Soul here to lend me Roderick Random: so I suppose I must buy it. I never got through it yet: and this Spring broke down once more at the very outset of Gil Bias.1 By the bye (again) Thackeray sent me a few Lines some weeks ago: rather smacking of Authorship and Patronage. Yours always E.FG. 1 Samuel

Smollett's Roderick Random, 1748, modeled on Le Sage's Gil Bias.

To the East Anglian [East Anglian Songs] [July, 1861] Your last number suggested a collection of these, which I hope will be done. Can any of your readers supply me with the rest of a genuine county ballad, beginning:— "The Farmer's old Hen she began to collogue: Says she unto the Fox — 'you're a precious old rogue; Your scent it is so strong that I wish you'd keep away,' The Farmer's old Hen she began for to say." The air to which these verses run is very beautiful, as Sir Henry Bishop thought also, to whom I sent it. And the words promise some humour; at any rate some good Suffolk: of which "collogue" is a good earnest. — F.

To the East Anglian [Woodbridge ] [July, 1861] I have observed that Moor, Forby,1 and other glossarists, have con­ fined themselves much to the inland phraseology, neglecting the sea-

July 1861 board, which is of so much interest in all English enquiry. When I was at Lowestoft last year I heard many words about boats, ships, fishinggear, etc., which are not in these Vocabularies. Your friends who live on the spot, would do well to gather what of these they can lay hold of, and contribute them to the East Anglian—as, for instance, the parts of a Net:—the beam (the wooden back-bone); the lutades (a very curious word for the bent irons at the end—query whether from A.S. Lut-ian, to bend?) the shales (meshes) of which a row (I think) is called a gong. I am not certain of the orthography of these words; nor even in all cases of their exact appropriation: but you might accurately determine all, and much more. Many of such words are NOT known up the coast as far as Aldbro'. Even your Score for a narrow street, on a declivity, is not noticed in our Glossaries. I heard the word Brenner, for a flying gust over the water (as I remember). And one man spoke of a halo round the Sun as an oven, as I also gathered. But these re­ quire verifying, as also many others to be found out and recorded, before the modern SCHOOLMASTER has drubbed them out of the language.2—F. 1 Edward Moor, Suffolk Words and Phrases, 1840; Robert Forby, Vocabulary of East Anglia, 1830. 2 See letter to East Anglian editor, [Dec., 1868].

To R. C. Trench Markethill, Woodbrtdge July 3/61 Dear Doctor Trench, Thank you sincerely for the delightful little Journal which I had from you yesterday,1 and only wished to be a dozen times as long. The beautiful Note at p. 73 speaks of much yet unprinted! It is a pity Mrs. F. Kemble had not read p. 79.21 thought in the Night of "the subdued Voice of Good Sense" and "The Eye that invites you to look into it." I doubt I can read, more or less attentively, most personal Memoirs: but I am equally sure of the superiority of this, in its Shrewdness, Humour, natural Taste, and Good Breeding. One is sorry for the Account of Lord Nelson: but one cannot doubt it. It was at the time when he was intoxicated, I suppose, with Glory and Lady Hamilton.3 What your Mother says of the Dresden Madonna4 reminds me of what Tennyson once said: that the Attitude of The Child was that of a Man;

July 1861

but perhaps not the less right for all that. As to the Countenance, he said that scarce any Man's Face could look so grave and rapt as a Baby's could at times. He once said of his own Child's, "He was a whole hour this morning worshipping the Sunshine playing on the Bedpost." He never writes Letters or Journals: but I hope People will be found to remember some of the things he has said as naturally as your Mother wrote them. Yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald Pray read "The Cadi and the Robber"5 translated from the Arabic by someone in the New Monthly Magazine for 1853—or 1854. It is good grave Humour. 1Journal Kept During a Visit to Germany in 1799, 1800 by Mrs. Richard Trench, printed privately by her son, then Dean of Westminster. Trench issued the volume in June while preparing The Remains of Mrs. Richard Trench, pub­ lished in 1862. The latter includes diaries kept from 1798 to 1828. The 1862 date is sometimes assigned to the volume printed privately. The Journal, bound for FitzGerald with books on Scott and Samuel Rogers as a single volume, is now in the FitzGerald Collection at Syracuse University. 2 FitzGerald "did not much admire" Fanny Kemble's acting. The passage to which he refers probably supplies one clue to the cause of his apathy: ". . . to represent passion with the eyes fixed on a book and the person confined to a spot, must always be a poor piece of acting manque' (Oct. 7, 1800, entry). 3 The entries of October 3 to 10, 1800, are concerned chiefly with Nelson's sojourn in Dresden on his return to England, two years after his victory at the Nile. He was accompanied by his inamorata, Lady Hamilton, who was accompanied by her husband. "Lord Nelson is a little man, without any dignity," Mrs. Trench wrote. "Lady Hamilton takes possession of him, and he is a willing captive." At "a great breakfast," another entry records, Lady Hamilton "took such a portion" of champagne "as astonished me. Lord Nelson was not behindhand." Their host "endeavoured to stop the effusion of champagne, and effected it with some dif­ ficulty; but not till the Lord and Lady . . . were pretty far gone" (Oct. 3 and 8 entries). 4 Raphael's "Madonna di San Sisto" in the Dresden Gallery. The diary entry for September 4, 1800, reads: "The Child, who appears about a year old, has more the expression of the King, than the Saviour of the world. There is a beautiful haughtiness, mixed with disdain, in his features." 5 By citing first the law, then the Koran, a highwayman cleverly justifies, in turn, his thefts of the cadi's mule, money, and garments. Last, by beating the judge at chess, the robber takes his signet ring. EFG copied the story into one of his com­ monplace books. The translation, by A. H. Bleeck, appeared in the New Monthly Magazine, September, 1853.

July 1861

To W. H. Thompson MarkethiU, Woodbridge July 15/61 My dear Thompson, I was very glad to hear of you again. You need never take it to Conscience, not answering my Letters, further than that I really do want to hear you are well, and where you are, and what doing, from time to time. I have absolutely nothing to tell about myself, not having moved from this place since I last wrote—unless to our Sea coast at Aldbro, whither I run, or sail, from time to time to idle with the Sailors in their Boats or on their Beach. I love their childish ways: but they, too, degenerate. As to reading, my Studies have lain chiefly in some back Volumes of the New Monthly Magazine and some French Mem­ oirs. Trench was good enough to send me a little unpublished Journal by his Mother; a very pretty thing indeed. I suppose he did this in re­ turn for one or two Papers on Oriental Literature which Cowell had sent me from India, and which I thought might interest Trench. I am very glad to hear old Spedding is really getting his Share of Bacon into Print:1 I doubt if it will be half as good as the Evenings, where Spedding was in the Passion which is wanted to fill his Sails for any longer Voyage. I have not seen his Paper on English Hexameters2 which you tell me of: but I will now contrive to do so. I, however, believe in them: and I think the ever-recurring attempts that way show there is some ground for such belief. To be sure, the Philosopher's Stone, and the Quadrature of the Circle, have had at least as many Followers. Buckle, also, I must get to see.3 "Coxcomb" he is: but not "Blockhead," surely. Mrs. Browning's Death is rather a relief to me, I must say: no more Avuora Leighs, thank God! A Woman of real Genius, I know: but what is the upshot of it all? She and her Sex had better mind the Kitchen and their Children; and perhaps the Poor: except in such things as little Novels, they only devote themselves to what Men do much better, leaving that which Men do worse or not at all.4 It was finding some Bits of Letters and Poems of old Alfred's that made me wish to restore those I gave you to the number, as marking a by-gone time to me. That they will not so much do to you, who did not happen to save them from the Fire when the Volumes of 1842 were printing.5 But I would waive that if you found it good or possible to lay them up in Trinity Library in the Closet with Milton's! Other-

July 1861 wise, I would still look at them now and then for the few years I suppose I have to live. Bye the bye—Mrs. Alfred wrote me that he had given up Smoking because of Palpitations in the Heart. He was on his way, I think she said, to Cambridge—to be made Doctor there?—when this Determi­ nation seized him. I remember that some twenty Years ago when he first went to Malvern Water-cure, the Doctor (Gully?) told him he would probably have some Paralysis at about 55: but, if he went on smoking, sooner. All this latter Paragraph (which has run me to Sheet 3) I endite for your Edification. I only pipe very moderately: with the Farmers and Sailors now and then. This is a terribly long Letter: but, if it be legible sufficiently, will perhaps do as if I were spinning it in talk under the Walls of the Cathedral.6 I dare not now even talk of going any visits: I can truly say I wish you could drop in here some Summer Day and take a Float with me on our dull River—which does lead to The Sea some ten miles off. I am meditating a Passage to Berwick in a Schooner which carries Goods and not Passengers: but she is scarce to be reached but by one's going to London, and that— You must think I have become very nautical, by all this: haul away at ropes, swear, dance Hornpipes, etc. But it is not so: I simply sit in Boat or Vessel as in a moving Chair, dispensing a little Grog and Shag to those who do the work. Yours always, my dear Thompson, E.FG. 1

The Letters and Life of Lord Bacon, 7 vols., 1861-74. review of Matthew Arnold's On Translating Homer, Eraser's Magazine, June 1861, pp. 703-14. 3 The second volume of Η. T. Buckle's History of Civilization in England was published in 1861. 4 The callousness of EFG's remark cannot be condoned; but the passage should be applied, as it was intended, to Mrs. Browning's poetry and not to Mrs. Brown­ ing as a person. EFG's strictures here are balanced somewhat by his praise, ten years previously, of Casa Guidi Windows. See letter to Cowell, June 13, 1851. The passage was published in the 1889 edition of the Letters and Literary Re­ mains; and Browning, then 77 years of age, chanced upon it while leafing through the volumes. In understandable dudgeon he wrote a bitter attack on EFG which was published in the Athenaeum, June 13, 1889. (See Terhune, FitzGerald, p. 256.) Aldis Wright deleted the passage from all subsequent editions of his Letter& 5 See letter to Barton, March 17, 1842, n.2. 6 Ely Cathedral, where Thompson was canon, a post given him with his Greek professorship. 2A

September 1861

To W. B. Donne Geldestone Hall, Beccles Sept. 15, [1861 ] My dear Donne, I have no doubt that October 5 will find me fast at Woodbridge; and very glad to see you there, if you will take the trouble to take me in your way. Unless I am called on to go on my Ship-voyage to Holland, which is now very unlikely, there is no likelihood of my being called elsewhere. W. Airy came over some ten days ago, and I afterwards went with him to have a long day's ramble over our old Haunts at Bury, the school, the church, etc. I looked at your old house by the Theatre with some sadness; and did not forget poor Donaldson in looking at the school. I don't know how it thrives now. You see where I date from now: Kerrich and my sister desire me to send you their kind Remembrances. I return to my old Woodbridge quarters in a very few days, and believe that I shall winter there, as last year. Here is autumn come at last after so delightful a summer as I scarce remember.... Believe me now and ever Yours affectionately E.FG.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge Sept. 25/ 61 My dear George, What Cheer, ho! I can't remember how long ago it was that you paid me a very pleasant Visit here, which I wish had been thrice as long. Since you went, W. Airy came over to Playford:1 and I went to see him there: and he came to see me here: and then we went together to Bury to ramble over our old School haunts. This also was really a pleasant thing to me. After this I went to Geldestone for some Days: called on your Aunt: did not see her: but heard from W. Crowfoot she was about to set off with your Cousin to Brighton, in order to hear their

September 1861 favourite Preachers. Donne talks of coming here for a Day on his road to Norfolk: whither I shall perhaps run with him; at least so far as a Day's Railway goes. These are all the Dissipations I have had: except buying a great ugly Dish of what was called Majolica (which I read means Majorca, where the Ware was first made), and a party-coloured Mop, so agree­ able to my colour-loving Eyes that I have kept it in my Sitting room instead of giving it over to be trundled in the Kitchen. I still persist with my Boat: and have been half perished with Cold in it this very Day. But one must have some such—Amusement! In three Ipswich Journals have been long Letters about foreign Travel by "one of your Subscribers," who, I am told (by P. Parley),2 is no other than the great Capitaine Brooke! They are very well written indeed, whomsoever by. I keep on being very much pleased with my Causeries du Lundi, by Sainte Beuve, of which I told you, and which you may well recommend to Lady Walsingham. I almost think they are worth buying, which is saying one's utmost for a Book: especially for one in some dozen small Volumes. I wish there were many Dozen, so long [as] one could get them from the London Library. The Chimes have just played "Ye Banks and Braes" for 6 P.M., and it is so dark I can scarce see how to write. So Summer is gone, and terrible old Winter coming, which I dread. What shall I do without my Boat? Sometimes I think I should like to try a Winter—one—in Italy: but Indolence of Action carries it. I think I must go to Dresden to see the Madonna. Oh, there is a Book of Travel by a Lady Charlotte Pepys,3 incredible for its inanity, and I dare say much admired by the Sir Leicester Dedlocks.4 It is called "From Kiev to Eaux-bonnes," and is almost worth buying too, though only in two Volumes. Yours all dark E.FG. 1 Airy

was related to the Biddells of Playford. letter to Crabbe, Dec. 28,1860. 3 Journey on a Plank from Kiev to Eaux Bonnes, 2 vols., 1859-60. 4 In Dickens' Bleak House. 2 See

November 1861

To Mrs. Charles Cowell Woodbridge October 10/61 Dear Mrs. Cotvell, I am sorry I was not at home when you did me the favour to call, and to leave the Likeness of your Son. "Likeness" I suppose one must call it: though I must say I don't love these Photographs in general: nor, I must also say, this one in particular. Whatever other likeness there may be, there is always a sour Look about the Mouth which spoils all. You will not doubt however that I am very much obliged to you for sending it to me. Pray, am I to keep it, or to send it back? I had a Letter from your Son some three or four weeks ago: in which he speaks of all being well, and says nothing of returning. It is now five years and over since he went. As I am not at all sure of your Address, I enclose this Letter to your son Charles. Once again let me thank you both for the Portrait and Visit: and, with kind Remembrances to Miss Cowell, believe me yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald

To W. F. Pollock MarkethiU, Woodbridge NoV 20/61 My dear Pollock, "Vox clamantis" once again, at something of the usual Season. I sup­ pose you have had your Summer Excursions: and pray let me hear how you both do after them, and how well prepared to face the Winter. I rather dread it: having, I think, suffered with the Cold last year: and moreover sorry to exchange Boating on the River, in such Glorious Summer as we have had, for poring one's Eyes out over Mudie's Books at a Sea-coal Fire. Oh, if you were to hear "Where and oh where is my Soldier Laddie gone" played every three hours in a languid way by the Chimes of Woodbridge Church, wouldn't you wish to hang yourself? On Simdays we have the "Sicilian Mariners' Hymn"—very slow indeed. I see, however, by a Handbill in the Grocer's Shop that a Man is going

November 1861 to lecture on the Gorilla in a few weeks. So there is something to look forward to. Donne very kindly came and stayed some Days with me: and I think went away looking better than when he arrived. Then Laurence has been painting a Sister of mine: I wouldn't go to look at if for fear of not liking it. He goes on talking of Colour, etc., just as he did twenty years ago—and was about, I believe, to finish my Sister through some "Amber Medium" which nobody seemed to wish at all for. (Don't tell Spedding what I say.) I am extremely pleased with Sainte Beuve's "Causeries du Lundi," which I get from the London Library: and try to make the most and longest of its twelve Volumes! Do you know the Book? I suppose it is now almost out of Date in London: but it is as new as "Soldier Laddie" here. Kind remembrances to Mrs. Pollock. Ever yours E.FG. Fechter's Othello?1 1 Fechter alternated with Samuel Phelps in the parts of Othello and Iago. The production was not a success.

To Alfred Tennyson MarkethiU: Woodbridge Νου. 20/61 My dear old Alfred, You must let me hear how you and yours are. I heard you were gone abroad1—where, I know not: perhaps you are abroad now: but I beg you to let me hear about you directly you return. The last letter of your Wife told me you had left off smoking. I think if we both live till Summer, you must come here, and sail with me in my Boat on our River, which, tame as its Banks are, runs to the Sea twelve miles off, and partakes of its motions long before, making a respectable Kick-up of Wave that puts my Bottled Stout (stowed in the cuddy) into fine Spirits. Come and see old Crabbe's Country, though you see it well enough in his Verse. By the Bye—you talk, don't you, of "the Plover's human Whistle"?2 Are you sure it's not the Curlew you mean, (if indeed you do say this— for I only quote something that will run in my head, without the Book

November 1861 at hand to refer to. That Book, I suppose, is your Last Idylls). Here is a fine long Parenthesis. I observe the People here pronounce Curlew—accent on the last Syllable. Don't they so in Lincolshire? Yet I remember well enough, and could swear to point out this passage well enough— "Round the Gables as of old the Curlews call."3 Small Critic as I am, I don't care halfpenny whether the Plover or Curlew whistles most like a Man, nor how Mr. Curlew likes his Name to be said. But you are particular: and I dare say quite right. One of the Pleasures of the River to me is these Sea Birds, that I love more than any Birds, I scarce know why. I believe they know my Boat: letting me approach nearer them because I never shoot at them. Last Winter we had many Swans, and I went to see them: they looked well on the Water, but when they rose into Air were only, Geese. My dear old Alfred, it gives me a strange glow of Pleasure when I come upon your Verses as I now do in every other Book I take up, with no name of Author, as every other Person knows whose they are. I love to light on the Verses for their own Sake, and to remember having heard nearly all I care for—and what a Lot that is!—from your own Lips. I think—I am sure—I should like to sit opposite you once or twice more as in old Days: and, were you and Wife alone, should per­ haps make a shot at that one Day. But you have Company coming and going; and, besides, I should be ashamed to go to you, and yet stay away from so many! Well—well— I see advertised a Collection of English Poems by Mr. Palgrave:4 and I have heard it is a very good one. So I will have it down and see if any one will buy it hereabout. I have a Copy of Crabbe going on at the Bookseller's here, just to see if any Suffolk Man will buy it: but no one does. But Crabbe is hard work, one can't deny : only, once read him, you can't forget him: like Richardson's Novels. Now, I could fill this Side too with such Talk: but I won't: and I don't want you to bother yourself to write any more to me than that you and yours are well; and that you still believe me Your affectionate old E.FG. One thing more. I want you to send me one, if not more than one, scrap of Photograph Likeness of yourself, such as your best Friends think best. I suppose some of these are to be bought: but I don't know where: and I dare say you have heaps of scraps of the sort.

December 1861 1 To

the French Pyrenees and adjacent areas. and Enid," 1.49. 3 'Tis the place, and all around it, as of old the Curlews call. Locksley Hall, 1.3 * F. T. Palgrave's Golden Treasury of English Songs and Lyrics. Tennyson had had "a large share in shaping the volume and in the final selection of its contents" (C. Tennyson, Tennyson, p. 329). 2 "Geraint

To Thomas Carlyle Markethill, Woodbridge Dec. 5/61 Dear Carlyle,

I hope you won't be bored with another of my half-yearly Enquiries after yourself and Mrs. Carlyle. You can just tell me how you both are: where you have been this Summer: and how you are getting on with your Frederick now you yourself are got, as I suppose, into Winter Quarters. All this you may do in a very few words, which is all I expect, or have a right to expect from you. You would have a right to more from me if I had more to tell on my own Score. But that is not so: this year is like the last with me—only I went to Berwick-on-Tweed in a sailing Schooner, just for the sake of the Sail: and was then within two hours' Rail of Edinburgh, which I had never seen, and always wished to see; but, like a great Ass, didn't go to see when all so near: but ran home again.1 I have been very well pleased indeed reading Ste. Beuve's Causeries du Lundi, one of the justest and best French Books I have seen, so far as I can judge. He writes well, I think, of your Frederick, as one of the Great. Please to remember me with all kindness to Mrs. Carlyle: and be­ lieve me always yours, Edward FitzGerald It will soon be twenty years since we first exchanged Letters! 1 The Berwick excursion probably accounts for the fable that EFG once started by rail for Edinburgh but, on reaching Newcastle, learned that a train was about to leave for London and took the opportunity to return thereby. F. R. Groome in Two Suffolk Friends plausibly conjectures that EFG himself may have been re­ sponsible for the distorted account of the journey.

December 1861 To Ε. Β. Cowell Markethill, Woodbridge December 7/61 My dear Cowell, Your Letter of October 15 and November 2 is just come. As I find by it that you had not as yet received my Letter acknowledging the receipt of the £100,1 write at once to tell you I did receive, and did acknowl­ edge it.1 Also, I must thank you at once for this last long, kind, and valuable Letter. I shall look directly for the Passages in Omar and Hafiz which you refer to and clear up, though I scarce ever see the Persian Character now. I suppose you would think it a dangerous thing to edit Omar: else, who so proper? Nay, are you not the only Man to do it? And he certainly is worth good re-editing. I thought him from the first the most remarkable of the Persian Poets: and you keep finding out in him Evidences of logical Fancy which I had not dreamed of. I dare say these logical Riddles are not his best: but they are yet evi­ dences of a Strength of mind which our Persian Friends rarely exhibit, I think. I always said about Cowley, Donne, etc., whom Johnson calls the metaphysical Poets, that their very Quibbles of Fancy showed a power of Logic which could follow Fancy through such remote Analo­ gies. This is the case with Calderon's Conceits also. I doubt I have given but a very one-sided version of Omar: but what I do only comes up as a Bubble to the Surface, and breaks: whereas you, with exact Scholarship, might make a lasting impression of such an Author. So I say of Jelaluddin, whom you need not edit in Persian,2 perhaps, unless in selections, which would be very good work: but you should certainly translate for us some such selections exactly in the way in which you did that Apologue of Azrael.3 I don't know the value of the Indian Philosophy, etc., which you tell me is a fitter exercise for the Reason: but I am sure that you should give us some of the Persian I now speak of, which you can do a 11 so easily to yourself; yes, as a holiday recrea­ tion, you say, to your Indian Studies. As to India being "your Place," it may be: but as to your being lost in England, that could not be. You know I do not flatter. As to "Salaman," etc., Thompson of Cambridge wrote to me also but a few days ago. The truth is that young Parker dying last year, the Firm was reconstituted: and as I found that such Books as I had left with them had ceased to be asked for, and that they were setting off on a new Score, I had what copies remained packt up and sent away. I will

December 1861 send you Salaman some day when I can get at him. But I scarce know how he is to travel all that way? As to Omar, you know, I gave Quaritch what Copies I did not want for myself: and have never asked or heard any more of them till Thompson wrote the other Day to ask if I were guilty of a Translation he had somehow seen in Q's shop! Enough of all this. Your Mother was good enough to call here herself, and, as I was out at the time, to leave me your Photograph. I told her and your Brother I could not like it: I doubt if I should have known whom it was meant for had I not been told. The Mouth is nearly always ruined in Photo­ graph (one reason for wearing Beard and Moustache!) but this of you is elseways coarse and clumsy. I declare I should like to go to India as well as any where: and I believe it might be the best thing for me to do. But, always slow at getting under way as I have been all my Life, what is to be done with one after fifty! I am sure there is no longer any great pleasure living in this Country, so tost with perpetual Alarms as it is. One Day we are all in Arms about France. Today we are doubting if Tomorrow we may not be at War to the Knife with America!4 I say still, as I used, we have too much Property, Honour, etc., on our Hands: our outward Limbs go on lengthening while our central Heart beats weaklier: I say, as I used, we should give up something before it is forced from us. The World, I think, may justly resent our being and interfering all over the Globe. Once more I say, would we were a little, peaceful, unambitious, trading, Nation, like—the Dutch! I have no news to tell you of People here, for I have been nowhere out, and people are almost tired of answering my half-yearly Enquiries. Only, Donne came here to see me for three days, very pleasant but looking, I thought, shaken still by his last year's Illness. He would be very well, I believe, if he would leave off writing Reviews, etc., for which he never had, I think, much Talent, and now has no Necessity. I called a week ago on your Brother at his pleasant new House in Ipswich—built, with many more, since you left English Ground! His little Girl is really a very fine one, I think: and he seems happy! Adieu, my dear Cowell—once more, Adieu: I doubt if you can read what I have written. Do not forget my Love to your Wife. I wonder if we are ever to meet again: you would be most disappointed if we were! E.FG. 1 See

letter to Cowell, July 23, 1862. is, a Persian text.

2 That

December 1861 3

In "On Certain Medieval Apologues," Journal of the Asiatic Society of Bengal for 1860, pp. 1-17. In Mohammedan mythology Azrael is the angel who separates souls from bodies. 4 See letter to Spring Rice, Dec. 12.

Thompsons visit to Quaritch's shop and his query about "a transla­ tion he had somehow seen" there are episodes in what has aptly been called "the romance of the Rubaiyat." The story of the poem's narrow escape from oblivion has been told frequently and—almost as fre­ quently—told incorrectly. The facts are these. FitzGerald had printed 250 copies of the Rubaiyat in 1859. Although he had retained 40, almost three years later he had given away only three. The remainder were placed on sale in Quaritch's shop at 16 Castle Street, Leicester Square.1 The following year the business was moved to 15 Piccadilly, but the firm continued, and continues, to oc­ cupy the Castle Street site.2 For two years the sale of the brown papercovered book fell "absolutely dead at the published price of Is.," Quaritch recorded in a catalogue issued in December, 1899. In time the poem was banished to the penny box outside the Castle Street shop. How long it lay there ignored is not known. About the first week of July, 1861, Whitley Stokes, barrister and Celtic scholar, and John Ormsby, a miscellaneous writer, came across the Rubaiyat among the refected books. They bought copies, and Stokes gave at least two to friends. One, now in the Morgan Library was given to Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Rossetti's name, beautifully let­ tered, though crossed out by a subsequent owner, appears on the fly­ leaf, followed in script by "from Whitley Stokes July 10/61." A copy in the Widener Collection at Harvard is inscribed to Samuel Ferguson "with W. Stokes' kind regards July 10/61." Rossetti told Swinburne of the discovery. After reading the poem, Swinburne later informed A. C. Benson, he and Rossetti visited the shop and "invested upwards of sixpence apiece—or possibly threepence." They returned the next day and bought copies for friends, despite the fact that the price had soared "to the sinfully extravagant sum of twopence." William Morris, Edward Burne-Jones, George Meredith and others of the RossettiSwinburne circle read, reread, and praised the poem; Thompsons query reveals that by December the Rubaiyat had been elevated to status in the Piccadilly shop. Quaritch later told FitzGerald that the edition "was as much lost as sold" when his stock was moved to its new location. At another time, it

December 1861 appears, he said the books had been sold as "waste paper."3 It was not until 1865 that he first proposed a new edition; but in January, 1866, he wrote that he had found "some ten copies," which would meet his needs for the time being. Thus, the discovery and rescue of the RubAiydt. The event had a sequel. FitzGerald had published his poem anonymously. A decade, more or less, was to pass before the identity of the author became known to more than a very few of FitzGerald's most intimate friends. The solution of that mystery emerges in letters exchanged between Carlyle and Charles Eliot Norton in April, 1873. 1 See

letter to Quaritch, April 5, 1859. Street became part of Charing Cross Road when that thoroughfare was formed in 1887. The Quaritch shop, rebuilt as a warehouse, is at No. 30. Swin­ burne's memory failed him when he wrote to A. C. Benson, Oct. 5, 1904, that the Rubdiydt was found in a bookstall "in St. Martin's Lane." Castle Street was the first street west of and parallel to St. Martin's Lane. 3 Letter to Cowell, April 12, [1872], 2 Castle

To W. H. Thompson (Fragment) Markethill, Woodbridge Dec. 9/61 My dear Thompson, The MS came safe to hand yesterday,1 thank you: and came out of its Envelope like a Ray of Old Times to my Eyes. I wish I had secured more leaves from that old "Butcher s Book" torn up in old Spedding's Rooms in 1842 when the Press went to work with, I think, the last of Old Alfred's Best. But that, I am told, is only a "Crotchet." However, had I taken some more of the Pages that went into the Fire, after serv­ ing in part for Pipe-lights, I might have enriched others with that which Ahimself would scarce have grudged, jealous as he is of such sort of Curiosity. I have seen no more of Tannhauser2 than the Athenaeum showed me; and certainly do not want to see more. One wonders that Men of some Genius (as I suppose these are) should so disguise it in Imita­ tion: but, if they be very young men, this is the natural course, is it not? By and by they may find their own Footing. As to my own Peccadilloes in Verse—which never pretend to be original—this is the story of Rubdiydt. I had translated them partly for Cowell: young Parker asked me some years ago for something for

December 1861 Fraser, and I gave him the less wicked of these to use if he chose. He kept them for two years without using:3 and as I saw he didn't want them I printed some copies with Quaritch (whom no wickedness can hurt) and, keeping some for myself, gave him the rest. Cowell, to whom I sent a Copy, was naturally alarmed at it—he being a very religious Man: nor have I given any other Copy but to George Borrow, to whom I had once lent the Persian, and to old Donne when he was down here the other Day, to whom I was showing a Passage in another Book which brought my old Omar up. I mention [End of letter missing] 1 See

letter to Thompson, July 15, 1861. or the Battle of the Bards," a poem by Neville Temple and Edward Trevor, reviewed in the Athenaeum, Aug. 24, 1861, pp. 240-41. The poem closely imitates the style of Tennyson's blank verse. 3 Actually, only a year, from January to December, 1858. 2 "Tannhauser;

To Stephen Spring Rice MarkethiU, Woodbridge Decr 12/61 My dear old Spring Rice, How is it? Surely tis I who am the first to fire a Letter, in general? Well—you have now fired the first Shot, and you shall have it back at once and with Interest—so look out! But I must say at once how glad I was of your Letter. I really am very grateful for the Recollection and Regard of my old Friends whom I seem to use so scurvily—and yet you remember me so kindly, and write me a good long Letter. Enough of that. (Turn over.) Yesterday, and the Day before, came two Replies to my half yearly Enquiries: Gurlyle (as Thackeray used to call him) whose MS is now got crabbed as his Temper, but who admits he is otherwise pretty well: and /j\who subjoins a kind little P.S. to Mrs. /y\ her Letter. She does not give a good Account of him, I think: they have been abroad this Summer—to the Pyrenees, etc.—partly for his health, I fancy: and she says he was often very ill there: and now he has been for a month to London consulting a Doctor. That, you know, he always was rather inclined to: but I can't help doubting he has good cause now. The last Letter I had before this last told me he had renounced smoking, be-

December 1861 cause of Palpitation of Heart: I was always sure he had injured Body and Mind by so much of it: and some twenty years ago I remember his telling me that Gully, of Malvern,1 warned him he might look out for some Shatter at about fifty-five; and earlier, if he continued to smoke. I tell you all this, because I know you love him as I do: I dare say, much more: and, remember, these are only my surmises—which I would not dare to hint to Spedding (who would call them my Crotchets, etc., while he turned his own Cigar in his Mouth) nor would I say it to any but one who, I think, will understand me whether I am right or wrong. Oh, it often gives me a ray of Pleasure when, in some of Mudie's common Books, I see Lines of old quoted with no name—as if he were reckoned on as known as well as Shakespeare. I can't admire his later Poems as I did his earlier; but there are immortal Lines, and paragraphs, in all, I know. I was afraid, when I began your Letter, that you had been ill again of your old Complaint: and was relieved to find—shall I say it?—that it was only from a young Lady in too large a Crinoline being burned— to Death. But this also I would not repeat aloud in the Marketplace. Well—then I had a very kind Letter from Thompson, who, by the tone of it, seems well enough. Then old Donne came and stayed three Days here with me. He had a sharp illness last winter: not from smok­ ing, but from his incessant Application to review-writing, etc., which he really has no call to devote himself to now. I found him a little changed: but he really looked and was, sensibly, better after idling here three Days in my Boat, and in the Fields hereabout. Ah—my Boat—that has been the "Companion of my Solitude" from April to November. I wish you would, and could, come here some Summer Days and go out with me: I always engage to give up all helmduty to my Boatman when any Friend is with me—especially the Father of a Family. Indeed, I never care much to meddle with it, what with the mud of the curving Channel (which alters with all states of Tide) and having to blind one's Eyes with watching the Beacons, and to keep the white Sail full. So I generally take my Ease and call out to my Man—"Now then! Luff, LufT—and insist on his weathering such and such a Point. The only excursion I have made this Summer was one that made me think more than once of you and of—the VIGILANT. I must needs go from London to Berwick on Tweed in what they call a "Clipper Schooner"—such as used once to be Clipper Cutters, called Berwick Smacks, and which I used to watch passing along the Aldbro

December 1861 coast in all weather when I was a Boy. But I didn't think my Clipper so very fast neither: I thought some light Brigs came very close upon us, though the Captain turned a deaf Eye that way. He was a fine handsome fellow—a larger Carlyle, and talking so like him in Accent that I asked if he were anyway related? But he had never heard of the Great Tom! We eat and drank Salt Beef and Biscuit together: and I supplied some Whiskey; and had a delightful Voyage from Satvurday Noon, when we left London Docks, till Tuesday 4 A.M. when we got into Berwick, firing a Blue Light for Signal which was answered by a little old Pilot coming out over waves that nearly buried his Boat to steer us in. When I got on shore, I ought to have gone on by rail to Edinburgh, which was but two hours off: but the next Train was— homeward!—and home I came—like an Ass—for I had always wanted to see Edinburgh, and ought to have seen it—Dickey! There!—there is an account of my one grand Expedition this noble summer of 1861. Such a Summer and Autumn I never remember: so sunshiny, yet with a constant Breeze to make my little Boat go, and, as I think, to make a sweet harvest. Come, here is the third Sheet, and one must pack in what else one has to say. If you want to read a delightful Book read "Sainte Beuve's Causeries du Lundi," a Book of, I think, perfect and beautiful Criticism on French Authors (mainly) some of whom one never had heard of and yet was glad to hear of: especially some of the old writers before Louis XIV—the old Chroniclers, etc., when the French Language, as well as the People, had a naivete and Bonhomie which was banished by Boileau and Voltaire—as S. Beuve admits. One may see that French is a different and finer thing in Montaigne: as Italian is in Dante. England is lucky that her standard of Language was fixed by her greatest men, and as Coleridge says, by the contemporary Translation of the Bible. As to Politics—I turn away from them as much as I can, but now they will be heard by the deafest Adder. I don't quite understand you, or the Press, about America. Is it so certain they meant to insult us, etc., They are savage Snobs, and wanted to seize suspected Traitors, and did seize them in an English Vessel: there being at least a Doubt at first if they were not justified in so doing.2 And if they have intended to insult us, should we go to war with them now, when their hands are otherwise tied, after we have, as you say, submitted to insult hereto­ fore when their hands were free? I do think that England, which has begun so many Good Things, should, or might, begin now to discoun­ tenance the Duelling of Nations for mere Honour, as she has so long

December 1861

discountenanced that of Individuals; and that she might now well say (supposing America declines to concede)—"Well—we could strike you now you're half down: but we won't—wait till you are up again, and see if you are as angry with us then." And who knows if even America would not be so angry after being treated—as only one Eng­ lish Boxer treats another in the Ring? This may be all wrong, and you and others who are versed in Papers and Politics may know that America's Outrage is much worse than I know it. They are a bad set—really, a Continent of Pirates—and I can't doubt it is England's Interest to deal them the Blow now which they draw on themselves. But—but—is it not time for the Better Soul to prevail, and strike a Blow at War itself rather than to give War new Life by re-making it? (I was going on, but won't—with all this.) "To conclude." Do give my best remembrances to Mrs. Frere, and your Wife, and all of yours I know: and, my dear Spring Rice, above all things believe me always yours Edward FitzGerald Tell Mrs. Frere I paid Mrs. Taylor my £.1 for this year, as well as last. 1 James

Manby Gully, hydropathist. November 8 the Trent, a British mail ship, had been stopped on the high seas by a United States naval vessel; and James Mason and John Slidell, Con­ federate emissaries bound for Europe, had been removed by force. War between Britain and the United States seemed imminent until moderation injected into diplomatic exchanges by Prince Albert and President Lincoln averted hostilities. Mason and Slidell were released from custody and reached their destinations, Britain and France, respectively. Their purpose, in which they were unsuccessful, was to obtain recognition of the Confederacy. 2 On

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethill, Woodbridge Decr 18/61 My dear Spring Rice, I dare say you are right about the fact that a Breach of international Law has been done by America toward us: but, anyhow, it was not so clear at first but that Lawyers were obliged to be called in to decide it; and American Lawyers see it just the different way from the English. It is natural therefore that the People should, as well as their Lawyers. Prima facie, I should have supposed America had a right to board a ship in which she knew there was Treason sailing—Treason, as she

January 1862

considers it—and if she took the Treason out, and then let the Ship go her way without further Damage, I should hardly have thought we could complain. If however our Lawyers, and European Opinion, agree that it was unlawful, I am quite ready to agree. Only I don't think we should be so fierce against America not seeing it as we now do. Do we, in judging, put her case as if it were our own? Eh? We might not justify the case by so doing, but we should, I think, look at it with less Ani­ mosity. But why do I write about such things! I can't help them, and why bother myself about what I can't help! I will make up my mind to go down Hill peaceably. I cannot even help your having ordered S. Beuve, if you have or­ dered it, as you talked of. Why, there are as many Volumes as you have Children,1 my dear Spring Rice; and who thinks of buying Books now? I get all from London Library and Mudie. Only, I have just bought twenty-seven Volumes of the original Edition of Scott's Scotch Novels —till Ivanhoe begins, when I cease to care for them. On Sunday night at 10 P.M. I was reading by myself how Meg Merrilies2 was watching over the dead Smuggler's Body, when the muffled Bell began to toll from Woodbridge Church. Prince Albert was dead. I hope the poor Queea will out-ride the Storm. Yours always E.FG. 1 Ten children, two sons and eight daughters. EFG usually places the number at "a dozen." 2 The old gypsy in Guy Mannering.

To Frederick Spalding1 Geldestone Hall, Beccles Jan: 5/622 Dear Sir, As it is possible—and probable—that I may not be back at Woodbridge till the middle of next week, I write a line to say so; that in case Mr. Robert Alien3 may want to communicate with me about the Boat, here I am to be found. I am in no hurry about the matter, as you know: but I have thought that in case the Purchase is agreed upon, the Seller may wish for his Money, which he can have at any time. Mr.

January 1862 Allen, I am sure, will be so good as to make sure of all the Boat's prop­ erties and stores being such as were specified in the first proposal. I have been twice to old Wright, who has built a Boat of about 14 feet, on speculation: and has laid down the Keel of a new Wherry, on speculation also. But he has as yet no Orders, and thinks his Business is like to be very slack. Indeed the Rail now begins to creep over the Marsh4 and even to come pretty close to the River, over which it is to cross into Beccles. But you, I think, surmise that this Rail will not hurt Wright so much as he fears it will. Poor old Boy—I found him well and hearty on Sunday: but on Sunday Night and Monday he was seized with such Rheumatism (I think rheumatic Gout) in one Leg, as has given him no rest or Sleep since: it is, he says, "as if somethin' was a tearin the Flesh off his Bones." I showed him two of the guilty Screws which had almost let my leaden Keel part from the wooden one: he says, he had desired the Smith not to make too large heads to the Screws, and the Smith accordingly made them too small; and some Apprentice had, he supposes, fixed them in without further Inspection. There is such honesty and cheerfulness in Wright's Saxon Eyes and Countenance when he faces such a Charge, as disarms all one's Wrath. Yours very truly Edwd FitzGerald 1

See Biographical Profile. dated by EFG; misdated Feb. 5/62 in Two Suffolk Friends, p. 98. 3 Of Woodbridge. See letter to Crabbe, May 17. 4 Extension of the Waveney Valley Railroad from Bungay; completed in 1863. 2 Legibly

To W. F. Pollock MarkethiU: Woodbridge Jan. 16/62 Dear Rhumlott, You see I have received your Play Bill,1 and recognise, I suppose, most of the Performers. But you should have let me know how it all went off. Perhaps you leave that to some one of the Audience, who will tell me—as much as you have done. Well, I hope it "gave Satisfaction" to all. Whom should I apply to for an Account? Spedding? He has already answered me upon other matters in the most scornful way. I am counting, however, very much of his Book which he speaks of as about to be ready by the End of this Month.

January 1862 You should see my little Room—filling with the most wonderful Gewgaws, Pictures, China, etc. I want two or three little Casts of Greek Statues (the decenter), and then I shall have samples of China, Greece, Italy, etc., all mixed. This Nonsense amuses me: at least helps to make my Room gay during the long Days and Nights of Winter. When Summer comes I shall get out on the River. I assure you our little Squires have so laid bare the Land of all the merit we had, its Trees and Hedgerows, that I turn away with Disgust from my old Haunts of fifty years ago. There is no need for them further to shut up (as they do) our old Footpaths, for one no longer wants to walk them. Oh for some Great Duke to come and buy them all out—we could bear his Tyranny: as Swift says, one can submit to a Lion—but to be gnawed alive by Rats! So I have recourse to the River and Sea which the Squires have not yet defaced nor forbidden—have as yet Written no Wrinkles on that azure brow.2 So it isn't all Peace in one's Soul down here; we have our Grudges, as well as Thackeray his against Saturday Reviews, etc. I think Thackeray must be much spoiled, judging by all that. Kind Regards to Mrs. Pollock—who won't believe in them. From yours always however E.FG. 1 Pollock, in the role of "Mr. Rhumlott," spoke the prologue for an evening of juvenile entertainment at his home January 14 as part of the Christmas celebration. The Pollocks often entertained with family dramatics. 2 Byron, Childe Harold, Canto IV, stanza 182, somewhat revised.

To George Crabbe MarkethiU: Woodbridge Jan. 31/62 Dear George, Thank you always for your Invitations to Merton: why don't I go there? as well as to London, etc. Ah, Why! You know, I hope, that you will always be welcome to my seedy home: Board here, Bed at the Bull.1 But I am (as for the last ten Years) looking out for a House, and indeed have gone so far as to have (though without my asking for it) a Plan of Alterations drawn up for a wretched little House where Mr. Reynolds (once Parson here) used to live, at the End of Seckford Street. But, little as I want, I doubt this would be almost too little, with scarce a Scrap of Garden ground. I had even thoughts of that

January 1862 House where Mr. Causton once lived at foot of the Bredfield Sandhill— do you remember?—which has a Bit of Garden, and might be altered to my Use. But the House lies low in a Corner where one can't get out except one way—up the hill—and into the Town by those Shipmeadows, whereas Seckford Street is high and dry, and leads out to Farlingay, Ipswich Road, etc. But all the better houses are occupied by Dowagers like Myself: the Miss Tolls: Mrs. Pulham: the Miss Silvers: and Billy Whincopp: and none of them will die, or otherwise migrate, for Love or Money: so here I go floundering on and teasing everybody without any Progress at all. I wish you were here, or could give me any Advice from where you are: for I am so certain to blunder in all I do that I quite lose heart to decide. I do really want, however, to get into a house of my own with my own Servants (where and with whom, of course, I shan't do half as well as here), and this for several reasons. Do not forget me in case you hear of any likely Housekeeper or Servant, though I can't yet engage the former because I have no house for her to keep. But a good Maidservant I would almost under­ take here, paying her instead of Mrs. Berry's doing so: who hires at Is. a week such a Slut as even I cannot put up with. We are now, I hope, getting rid of the third since I have been here, and I yesterday went to see about another at Hasketon. Also, if, when you are at Norwich, you should see any pretty and quaint Furniture, I should be glad to hear of it, and would even go to Norwich if you knew of a Place where such Things were in plenty. When I took my Niece to London in November, I went to the Baker Street Bazaar: but spent what Time and Money I had in the new Chinese Department, where I bought a heap of Things which, however, have chiefly gone in Presents. I however like Oriental Things: their quaint Shapes, fine Colours, and musky sandal-wood Scents; and, though I do not so much look at these things individually, yet their Presence in the Room creates a cheerfulness which is good as one grows old, blind, deaf, and dull. A little time in London would soon set one up in such Things: but I don't care to go there, and per­ haps it is as well to have to pick up such Things now and then only. I have not yet hung up my Pictures, which are now got back to the Room they were outed from: but the Truth is they look so much better on the Floor. I have cleaned and put a thick coat of Varnish on the Secretary; this fills up some cracks, though it makes him a little too glossy. Laurence was delighted with my hideous larger Spanish Woman, which is certainly Velasquez, he says: I have turpentined her, which (as I have learned from Mr. Churchyard) will freshen up old Varnish, and so do better than overlaying a new Coat of that. But what

February 1862

do you think of my Impudence in actually rubbing down my Titian Landscape! which Mr. C. was frightened to think of my doing, but says it is certainly improved, now it's done. I will not have green Skies at any Price. As I told you, I had a Plan made for one good room to be added to that wretched House: we first talked of 18 ft. by 15: but now of 20 ft. by 18. What is the Proportion of your Sitting room which I don't think I much like. And how high? Would you have two flat Windows, or one large Bow? The Aspect is South. The Truth is I do not prefer any rectangular Room: but rather like an old fashioned rambling one, with Closets, etc. I should like some of the old light Cane Chairs such as one used to see in old Inns, Watering Places, etc. Do keep me and my wants of this kind in your Eye, as you have an Eye for such things, and may not be unamused at thus keeping it open. Here is a stupendous Letter: all about myself. You seem too much engaged, or too little inclined, to write much: and indeed I can't expect other People to repay me with such Coin as my own Idleness can spare so easily. I am reading a Book of almost as dull Letters as my own: the second series of Mrs. Delany:2 five thick Volumes of five hundred pages apiece of almost the poorest twaddle, and often very vulgar Twaddle, from the very greatest People to one another. Yours E.FG. 1 The Bull Inn on Market Hill, near EFG's lodgings; still one of the town's principal hotels. 2 The Autobiography and Correspondence of Mary Granville, Mrs. Delany, 1861-

62.

To Mrs. Tennyson1 [Woodbridge ] [February, 1862] How is it that your note has been unanswered this month or more? Why, a fortnight of the month I didn't see it at all: being away with a sister in Norfolk; and the remaining fortnight? Why I kept thinking I might tell you something about the fishing questions you ask me: I mean, about telling you anything about fishermen, etc. Well, somehow, what little I know on such matters won't turn up on demand: perhaps

February 1862 it would undemanded if you and A.T. were in my boat one summer day on this poor river, or plunging over its bar into the German Seas. Ah! Alfred should never have left his old county with its Mablethorpe sea. As to the definite questions you ask on the subject, I can only answer for the customs in such matters hereabout. 1. There is no apprenticeship to fishing: anyone takes anyone who comes handy, etc., even in the Deep-Sea fishing, i.e., not along the coast, but out to the Dogger bank, Scotland, Ireland, etc. (for cod­ fish); anyone may go who can get a berth. Only a little while ago, a lad was telling me at Aldbro' how he first went, as a boy of 13: he hid himself in the stern of the boat that was pushing off to the smack: and when they were well off shore, he pushed up his head from under ropes, etc., and the "Master" only said, "What! is thee that devil of a boy? You'll be glad enough to be at home again before along!" and so took him out to sea; and now the lad has his 14s. a week (grown to 19 years old) like the rest. 2. "May fishermen act as pilots, or must they be of a Guild of pilots?" Yes, properly: no one is authorized to become a pilot, unless he has served his time as Mate in a square-rigged vessel (i.e., nothing under a brig: even a schooner won't do). When he has so served a certain time, he has to pass examinations before (I think) the Trinity Board2 and so is admitted or not to be of the Guild. But, when all the authorized pilots in a place are exhausted (as will happen when many foreign ships pass, etc.), then a fisherman or other Mnauthorized sailor will go: being called a "Brummagem3 Pilot." Oh dear! this is very learned, very useless, I dare say. But you ask me and I tell my best. I have been almost tempted to write you out some morsels of Dampier's Voyages4 which I copied out for myself: so fine as they are in their way I think, but they would be no use unless A.T. fell upon them by chance: for, of all horses, Pegasus least likes to be dragged to drink. I love Captain Cook too: what fine English his, in the Johnsonian days! I remember, ten years ago, telling Alfred at Brighton of some poor little verses found in the Prayer-Book of a sea­ faring son of our old coachman, who died at sea: and Alfred took the pipe out of his blessed old lips to remurmur one, which Thackeray pooh-poohed.5 Along the coast here are many peculiar and fine Scan­ dinavian words, which are not registered even by our provincial glossarists (who have dealt chiefly with the inland husbandman people). Well, I shan't go on more about this unless you desire some more. About the photographs of A.T., thank you for them: as you think one

February 1862 of them very good, I have no doubt it is so: but what becomes of the eyes? I had seen some bigger ones, which made a sort of Rembrandt Burgomaster of him: but in reality I don't much love photographs: though I asked you for one, because I knew they were always going on: and I sincerely thank you for sending me (I dare say) the best. This is vile weak scribbling, after two glasses of b-r-n-d-y and water too (Sunday evening). I saw (in Norfolk) that Yarrell6 does give that human note to the plover: so I dare say he is right, and my friends on the river here wrong. I see too that Yarrell writes the word "Curlew" as French "Couvre lieu" (I think), supposed to be from its cry. (Query. Will A.T. say anything better than an Aldbro' fisherman said of a boat— (Humph) "Ah!—She go like a Wiolin, she do!")7 Some Summer—some Summer day send the old wretch here, where nobody scarce knows his name (don't be angry, Mrs. A.T.), though a duller place is not! but an ugly river (and a dirty sea) (andE.FG.) which is my poem Q.E.D. (P.S. Leave the scrap of Cook on the floor, in Alfred's way: don't give it him.)8 1 Text taken from the Tennyson Memoir, I, 515-16, where it is identified as "Hints for 'Enoch Arden' . . . (1862)." The MS is missing. The Enoch Arden story, believed by Tennyson to be of Suffolk origin, was suggested to him by the sculptor Thomas Woolner, a native of the county. The poem was not published until 1864. 2 Trinity House. See letter to Spring Rice, Sept. 23, n.l. 3 A corruption of Birmingham, commonly applied to products of inferior quality. 4Between 1697-1703 William Dampier (1652-1715), English buccaneer and explorer, published three accounts of his voyages. 5 See the Magnus Harper letter immediately following. 6William Yarrell (1784-1856), A History of British Birds, 3 vols., 1839-43. 7 Said of EFG's Waveney. 8The passage in Captain James Cook's Voyage Towards the South Foie which EFG sent to Cowell, November 12, 1860.

With his "scrap of Cook" EFG may have enclosed the following which is among the FitzGerald-Tennyson MSS. Magnus Harper was the mate under whom young Greathurst had sailed.

February 1862

Magnus Harper to Mr. Greathurst (Coachman, etc.) about his Son—Steward on the Forfarshire You wish to know your Son's dying Words and wishes, and I am certain he explained themself to me more than any one on board the Ship. Poor Man—he used to tell me many a time about his dear Sister, and lament her Loss to him, little thinking he was to die by the same;1 and he used to say often, if he got safe home this time, he would not go to Sea again any more, but he would try some Business ashore, and nearly his last words to me were that he had seen his Sister come into his Cabin, and some more Angels with her, and he called out aloud to me to come and see them, and he told me that she had wings, and they all fled up the Skylight. So tried to persuade him he was dreaming, but no, he would not be putt of his Opinion. God Bless him. Magnus Harper Jan: 14/53 (Pencilled in poor Mr. Greathurst's [son's] Prayer Book) THE SAILOR'S GRAVE

He sleeps, but oh he sleeps not there hard by The hallow'd Precincts of the Village Fane Where oft in Youth he knelt, and prayed to lie Far from the tumult of the restless Main. The sullen Waves roll o'er him: but there's not A Stone to mark the Burial of the brave: A single Bubble bursting marks the Spot2 Where sleeps the Sailor in his Sailor's Grave. (You see the rather fine words of a Steward: but there is a Soul in it too!) 1 Both

died of consumption. is the line Tennyson repeated. Thackeray ridiculed it by observing that there must have been a hundred bubbles rather than one. In a polished form EFG published his enclosure in his 1870 contribution to the East Anglian Notes and Queries (Variorium Edition, VI, 268-70). 2 This

March 1862

To George Crabbe Markethilh Woodbridge Monday [March 10, 1862] My dear George, There is Farlingay1 left in Applepie Order, with its good Servants, Gardener, etc., as old Smith left them, and I am asked to take it as it is: and yet—I am afraid to leave the poor Town with its little bustle! As one grows older, lonelier, and sadder, is not the little Town best, though Farlingay be the Pink of Places? I have bought a new Boat, which is not yet from London: and am altering (and I doubt spoiling) my old one, just when I didn't want to meddle with it at all. Then, in a sudden fit, I sold out all my Bank Stock into Dutch Funds, which won't give me as much Income; my only consolation being that, directly after I had done it, the Bank Clerk (here) rushed out from his Desk to assure me Bank Stock had fallen because a smaller Dividend is expected. I believe I am now more considered in the Town, as having exhibited this fore-knowledge. The Town Hall is being decorated with Flags, etc., for the Odd Fellows Dinner, which comes off Today. But the Town itself is dis­ tracted with the Question as to where the New School shall be; Bishop Taylor2 having persuaded the Inspector to choose Land near his (the Bishop's) Estate down in the lower Part of the Town (at foot of the Sandhill). So the Bishop walks about enveloped in his Virtue, and proof against all unchristian malevolence. I have been in my glory tearing up twenty Volumes of the Gentleman's Magazine to get out Scraps of Mitford and Green's Diary,3 of which I make Volumes, and then call them my Works. I have hung my Pictures, which are spoilt by a vile Paper; and am Yours always E.FG. I bought six very nice Cane Chairs at Ipswich. P.S. Sell your Land if possible now, while Money is plentiful—(Vida Bank Stock Dividend). 1

Where he had lodged with Job Smith before moving to Markethill. The Reverend Henry Taylor, Non-conformist, one of the trustees of the Seckford Fund. 3 Extracts from the diary of Thomas Green published by John Mitford in the Gentleman's Magazine between January, 1834, and June, 1843. Green (17691825), an Ipswich man of means, kept his journal from 1796 until his death and 2

March 1862 published a portion, Extracts from the Diary of a Lover of Literature, in 1810. EFG bound Mitford's sequel—adding a few prints for illustration—in a volume with reminiscences of the Romantics published under the title, "Portfolio of A Man of the World," also taken from issues of the Gentleman's Magazine, July, 1845, to October, 1848. It is now in Trinity College Library.

To W. H. Thompson Markethill, Woodbridge March 19/62 My dear Thompson, Thanks for your Letter in the middle of graver occupations. It will give me very great pleasure if you will come here: but not if you only do so out of kindness; I mean, if you have no other call of Business or Pleasure to yourself. For I don't deserve— You should have sent me some Photograph. I hate them nearly all: but S. Rice was very good. I wonder you don't turn out well: I sup­ pose, too black, is it? It is generally florid people, I think, who fail: yet, strange to say, my Brother Peter has come quite handsome in the Process. I never was satisfied with Woolner's A . I thought it overdone and bull-necked. I suppose he is now trying in Marble what the Holman Hunts, etc.,1 try in Paint. I am all for a little Flattery in Portraits: that is, so far as, I think, the Painter or Sculptor should try at something more agreeable than anything he sees sitting to him: when People look either bored, or smirking: he should give the best possible Aspect which the Features before him might wear, even if the Artist had not seen that Aspect. Especially when he works for Friends or Kinsfolk: for even the plainest face has looked handsome to them at some happy moment, and just such we like to have perpetuated. But I suppose this is all wrong. I can say nothing about Sculptors, knowing nothing [of] the present ones. Richmond appears to me almost the only safe Portrait Painter: unless Watson Gordon?2 Now, I really do feel ashamed when you ask about my Persian Translations, though they are all very well: only very little aifairs. I really have not the face to send to Milnes direct:3 but I send you four Copies which I have found in a Drawer here to do as you will with. This will save Milnes, or any one else, the bore of writing to me to acknowledge it.

March 1862 My Old Boat has been altered—I hope not spoiled—and I shall soon be preparing for the Water—and Mud. I don't think one can ever reckon on warm weather till after the Longest Day: but if you should come before, it will surely be warm enough to walk, or drive, if not to sail; and Leaves will be green, if the Tide should be out. You would almost think I wanted to repay you in Compliment if I told you I regarded even your hasty Letters as excellent in all respects. I do, however: but I do not wish you to write one when you are busy or disinclined. Always yours E.FG. Don't answer. 1 Woolner and Hunt were members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, formed to rescue British art from the "contemptible and even scandalous" level to which, the group protested, it had fallen. 2George Richmond (1809-96); John Watson Gordon (1788-1864), the leading Scottish portrait painter after the death of Henry Raebum in 1823. 3 Thompson had evidently told Milnes about EFG's Rubdiydt after finding the poem in Quaritch's shop; it appears that Milnes had written to ask about obtaining a copy.

To Mrs. W. K. Browne Markethill: Woodbridge March 30/ 62 Dear Mrs. Browne, I have often been about to write to you lately: and now will defer no longer. For it is a long time since I have heard of you: and your Plans about leaving Goldington may be maturing—not yet surely enacting? Do let me hear how all goes on with you before long. I have not moved from Woodbridge unless once to Geldestone since you last heard of me: and unless I have to run up to London for a Day only, I don't know when I shall move. My old Farmer Smith is dead after a very short illness: and that most pleasant Farlingay is now ready for me to step into, furnished with all the dead and live Stock I should require: and yet—I dare not! To be alone in the Country— even but a short mile of a Town—is now become sad to me: dull as this Town is, yet people pass, Children scream, and a Man calls "Hot Rolls" which is all less sad than the waving and mourning of Trees, and the sight of a dead Garden before the Window. How one alters

April 1862 with Time! I have bought another, and a larger, Boat, which is not yet come down from London however; and I dare say I shan't like it so well as my old. But the Landlords and Farmers have made the Country about here so ugly by cutting down every old Tree, and rooting up every old Bank that had a Primrose or Violet upon it, or a Briar for a Bird to build and sing in, that I am really forced to the River and Sea which these People cannot as yet get hold of to spoil. I do run for a Day to Aldbro now and then: there nothing is doing now: no fishing till April. Well—do let me hear of you. Remember me to your Children: and to Mrs. Browne1 in Caldwell Street (oh, how strange those old Names seem now!) and believe me yours always sincerely Edward FitzGerald 1

W. K. Browne's mother.

To William Crowfoot MarkethiU: Woodbridge April 12,1862 I had your very kind letter yesterday and have not forgotten it meanwhile. I have always fancied that if I went to Beccles, I should prefer Mrs. Stone's house to any now available. But though it would puzzle me to name any tie to Woodbridge except the River; here I am, and while I do pretty well, am afraid to leave in the hope of "bettering myself." So much so, that the very most delightful Place I know, only half a mile from the Town, with Gardens and Furniture, and orderly Servants, all ready to my disposal. I am afraid to leave this poor Lodging, where I do pretty well, though I can scarce store half the things I want away in it. However as it would scarce do if one were ill (for I think one should not burden Landlord and Landlady with that) and the time of life is now come that one must expect the shaking of the Dart over one's Head, even if it do not strike home at once. I say, considering all this, I keep looking out if any small house close by come into Market. This is all about my worthless self: but yet it is in reply to your kind letter. I wish you would come over some Summer day and see me and Woodbridge and my River; even if you won't go on it. Why should you not come? Any day does for me: only with a line of writing in the morning so as to prevent my being away on the water. I speak of Summer for your coming here, only because I think

April 1862 such time is better for yourself, or any Visitor: for you may believe me that it would give me very great pleasure indeed if you would come at any season. This I can truly say that if the River is my attraction here, you would be my main attraction to Beccles. This is the very truth from yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald

To George Crabbe (Fragment) Markethill, Woodbridge April 18/62 My dear George, No—I won't go to Norwich on Saturday, though I should like then, or at any time, to meet you. I ran to London for one day at the beginning of this week: saw nobody: but tore about to Shops where I bought some things I wanted, and some I didn't want. I got a look at the National Gallery, and admired the New Room: but the Devotion of one whole Room to Turner seems to me a national Absurdity.11 didn't see one good Kcture in the Shop windows, except a Wilson at Bryant's: but I saw the beau­ tiful Venetian Portrait of a Lady which used to hang at Boulge Cottage, and which I gave to my Sister Lusia, quite spoiled by having been cleaned and restored by Seguier.2 Quite spoiled, I say, as a whole and perfect Work, so far as it went: it is now in uneven patches. I also managed to rush to the Crystal Palace3—always, I think, the Sight of the Century: there were Chinese Trees in Blossom, and M. Angelo's Statues striving into Life, as it were, and the Grand Organ preparing itself by reverberating Preludes for some Handel Commemoration. Now, after this flourish of the Tupper4 Trumpet, how can you expect I am to descend to Questions of Trusteeships, etc. Or how could you ever ask my opinion on such a Subject? I, who run about asking every one else's! I can only [Remainder missing] 1

J.M.W. Turner (1775-1851) bequeathed his paintings to the National Gallery on condition that a room be added to be called "Turner's Gallery." 2 John Seguier, artist and picture restorer. 3 The Crystal Palace, in which the International Exhibition of 1851 had been held in Hyde Park, had been moved to Sydenham and was opened for music festivals and as a permanent exhibition of arts and cultures in June, 1854. 4 Martin Tupper, poetaster.

April 1862

To George Crabbe Geldestone Hall, Beccles Thursday, April (24?), [1862] Dear George,

I came here two Days ago, because my Sister wished to see me be­ fore her House fills with Company for a Month next week. I think you will believe that if I wish to decline being your Treasurer [Trustee], it is not from a wish to shirk the small Trouble, but because I am too convinced of my own incapacity for dealing well with affairs of any such sort, whether other people's or my own. And I am so far one of the very worst of the Incapables: forasmuch as I don't consent to drift along as my fellow-Trustees, Lawyers, etc., would have me: but am apt to raise Questions and DiflBculties. I cannot doubt that you will very easily find a much more suitable Man than myself: whom I think you have only asked out of Compliment. If you should find any real difficulty in the matter, let me know; but I wish to communicate through you rather than any Lawyer. W. Crowfoot has been, and is, very anxious I should buy Miss Howman's House at Beccles: one main reason being, as he laughingly con­ fesses, that I may replace her in some useful little Charities she prac­ tised, and in fact reign as a Dowager in her stead. He also wishes me to be near Gels'on, no doubt; and, I also believe, near himself: for I take as fully meant his expression of Pleasure in my Society. In return I tell him that the one inducement to draw me to Beccles would be, himself. I have little to bind me to Woodbridge except the River: but being somehow at Woodbridge, and fairly well off there, I am afraid to quit. I shall have, however, to leave my present Lodging, I doubt: quite against my own Desire: and where to go to I know not yet. I have my two Boats out, and have begun sailing. I shall always be glad to see you: but I have scarce a right to ask you when I never go to you at your asking. But you know how often People grow averse from moving as they grow old. I am now a year or two older than your Father when he first settled at Bredfield. Ever yours E.FG.

May 1862

To Frederick Spalding [ Geldestone ] Thursday [April 24, 1862] Dear Mr. Spalding, This Note (thus headed by a wonderful Device1 which I cannot un­ riddle) dates from Geldestone; here I came the Day before yesterday (Tuesday, to wit). I talk of being back at Woodbridge by the end of the week: but in case I should be here over Sunday, will you do me the favour to pay Jack Smith2 his fourteen weeks' wages any time on Saturday Afternoon? I was sorry not to be at home yesterday when Mr. Manby3 talked of trying the new Boat with me, but perhaps he didn't go after all. I shall be very glad of his opinion: and would have waited to go with him: but my Sister has Company here next week to stay a month: and she wished me much to come over to her first. I had a Jaw with old Wright yesterday: all right about the Bill4 from which he had wholly forgot to deduct the £51 had advanced. He has taken Boult's5 Design for the New Sails into his Consideration, and will report on them Today. Adieu. I hope it is needless to repeat that these Boats are at your Service. Yours truly E.FG. 1A

coat of arms surmounting an intricate monogram. Smith, the one-legged sailor EFG employed. 3 George Manby, corn and coal merchant, and churchwarden—"a good fellow," EFG declared. 4 For alterations to the Waveney. 5 Benjamin Boult, sailmaker of Beccles. 2 Jack

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge May 5/62 My dear Donne, Pray let me hear how you and all of you are: I have heard nothing as to Mrs. Charles1—how she got on—I take for granted that Silence is no ill News.

May 1862

I was in London about a Fortnight ago, and rushed about from Bank to Shop till I got away again. The Sydenham Palace also I ran to, just shaving the time to Railway Starting Point. As to the International,2 I have no sort of Appetite for it; though I think the People should. But a very little of Sight and Sound suits me. You know, I hope, that it will always be delightful to me if you should have a mind to come here: but I never can press any one else to do that which I fail in so woefully myself. I have got a new and larger Boat: but I doubt She is a Failure: I trusted entirely to another's Judgment in buying her, and find, to my great Astonishment, that he is a greater Ass than myself, who have long ago given up judging for my­ self. Yet not so: for in this case I judged for myself that this Man could judge for me: and here is the Upshot. But, after some Bargains, these sorts of Blunders are Flea-bites. Pray thank Mowbray for his last Letter: it was all right about the Hogarths. What a good Book is Lord Stanhope's Pitt.3 But of all sur­ prising Impudence, Dixon in his Athenaeum about his own Bacon4 carries the Palm. Love to all. Ever your E.FG. 1 John

M. Kemble's daughter Mildred, who had married Donne's son, the Rev­ erend Charles Edward Donne, the previous June. Their first child, Catharine, had been born April 29. At the time Charles, priest-in-charge of Holy Trinity Church, Paddington, lived with his father. 2 The Second International Exhibition; did not open until May 1, after EFG's visit to London. 3 The Life of the Rt. Hon. William Pitt, by Philip Henry Stanhope, 4 vols., 1861-62.

* The Personal History of Lord Bacon, 1861, and The Story of Lord Bacon's Life, 1862, by William Hepworth Dixon had been praised in the Athenaeum, of which Dixon was the editor.

To George Crabbe Markethill: Woodbridge May 17162 Dear George, What is a good "Route" to Dresden? You went it some two years ago, I think. I also am thinking of it this Summer, perhaps, thinking

May 1862 that the Continent may be less crowded, now while our Exhibition goes on. But you will smile to think that all my Plans will probably end —where they began. Did I tell you that I rushed to London—about three weeks ago (I suppose) and just saw the National Gallery (the new Room very good) and my dear Sydenham Palace when I looked at the M. Angelo Statues, and at some China flowering Trees, at once, while the Great Organ was practising itself for some future Celebration? I bought but very little of any kind: and saw not one Man I knew: for which I think old Donne is rather angry (so far as he can be) but I love him and others all as well. Mr. Robert Allen (the Plumber and Glazier here) bought me a little Yacht in the winter: falling in love with her as she lay at Greenwich, never ascertaining what she was made of, what her stores were, nor whether she was good to go, etc. But he was so sure of all this, that he was also sure she must be worth twice as much as I gave for her ( £43) and down she comes with two men from London: is found so ill pro­ vided that she must have all new ropes, etc., then hatches added to cover her in: and, after all, she turns out worth nothing: neither safe, nor fast: so as I lose the £60 she cost from first to last: and he, poor man, gets badgered by the Wits of Woodbridge for his Folly. I am really more sorry for him than for the money: which, now gone, I don't care a bit about: and, after some bad Bargains, such as these are Flea-bites. But I never can escape my Ballyblunder Destiny: if I confess I can't judge and act for myself in one way, I forthwith choose one of the biggest owls in Woodbridge (and that is no small thing) to choose and act for me. Vignati walked in here two Days ago, having been rusticating with Mademoiselle at Boulge for some Days. She is engaged to be married, I hear from him as well as others: to a Mr. Brougham, Nephew of my Lord,1 and an officer at Ipswich: without a Penny, so that Miss's Fortune must do for both. They are not however to be tied up for a Year: and "Tween Cup and Lip," etc. Isabella will begin to feel, I think, when she is obliged to give up a good Slice of her Income to give her Daughter: and the Signor already talks of leaving Ipswich, etc. He told me, from Barling (he said) that Tomline2 is to buy Martlesham (Brooke's Place) and Colvin's at Bealings:3 all which will then be re­ duced to Game Preserves. W. Crowfoot wished me to buy Miss Howman's House, etc., at Beccles: I happened to go to Gels'on near the time, and looked at it, though with no Intention of buying: the House is excellent, but too

June 1862 large and Gloomy: the Garden very pleasant. I told W.C. that, if I went to Beccles at all I would rather have his Mrs. Stone's House. I don't find any Place here: am afraid to leave the Town for Farlingay, haunt­ ed by the dull Ghost of good Smith—in old leather Gaiters—and yet shall certainly have to leave this Lodging, where they never can keep a Servant. Here's a long rambling Letter. Write to me: tell me what [you have] done about your Treasurer: and believe me Yours always E.FG. 1 Wilfred,

nephew of Lord Brougham, former Lord Chancellor, married Francesca Vignati, June 4, 1863. 2 George Tomline of Orwell Park, Nacton, near Ipswich, who roused EFG's ire by his zeal for buying farm properties, thereby decimating the yeomanry. 3 Properties of F. C. Brooke of Ufford and Bazett Colvin, father of Sidney Colvin, author and critic, at Little Bealings; both sites near Woodbridge.

To Mrs. W. K. Browne (Fragment) Market Hill, Woodbridge June 2/62 My dear Mrs. Browne, . . . Meanwhile, whether you have reason to repent or not, I have been making my little Blunder: in the purchase of my new Vessel, which turns out so worthless, that I am dismissing her at a total Loss of all the cost (as no one else will buy her) and am going tomorrow to Ipswich to sail home here in one I have hired.1 So you see I so far practise what I preach as not to tie myself down to a bad Bargain. In this case of mine, I did not blunder in choosing the Vessel (which I never saw till bought), but in choosing a Man to choose her: a Man who turns out to be one of the Greatest Noodles in Woodbridge (and that is no small thing!) and for once in my Life I find out that I could have done better relying on my own Judgment. Enough of this. I doubt poor Aldbro' will be scantily visited this season; so many People keep­ ing their money for the London Exhibition. . . . 1 EFG

used the hired boat, the Criterion, which he described as "a shabby Concern," for a year.

June 1862

To Alfred Tennyson Market Hill: Woodbridge June 23/62 My dear old Alfred,

My half-yearly Letter of Enquiry about you and Mrs. Tennyson. Do, one of you, tell me just how you are, and where, and what about. I deserve no more answer: and have scarce more to say than to enquire so much. But I don't think of you so little, my dear old Alfred: but rejoice in the Old Poems, and in you yourself, young or old, and wor­ ship you (I may say) as I do no other man: and am glad I can wor­ ship one man still. Now I won't say any more: so you have but one thing to answer; and do (one of you) answer that: and do—both of you—believe me ever yours Edward FitzGerald This Letter ought to be on a black-edged Paper in a black-edged Cover: for I have just lost a Brother in law1—one of the best of Men. If you ask, "Who?"—I reply in what you once called the weakest Line ever enunciated— A Mr. Wilkinson, a Clergyman You can't remember this!—in Old Charlotte Street, Ages ago!2 1 2

The Reverend J. B. Wilkinson, his sister Jane's husband. Actually on Lake Windermere in 1835. See p. 161.

To Thomas Carlyle Markethill: Woodbridge June 23 (10 P.M .) 62 Dear Carlyle,

A Glass of Whiskey Toddy (Scotch) sets me upon doing what I have for many Days thought of doing: i.e., writing my half-yearly Letter to enquire how you and Mrs. Carlyle are? It will be twenty years—"come Michelmas"—when I first began to correspond with you—about Naseby. I conjecture now that this Letter of mine won't find you at Chelsea, but perhaps follow you to Scotland or elsewhere—now you have got quit of Volume III,1 and London fills for the Exhibition.

June 1862 You won't care a bit, I am sure, when I (or perhaps any one else) tell you I don't care so much for your Frederic! Perhaps you don't yourself. I keep to your old Johnson, Abbot Samson, and Cromwell.2 But you will believe I don't say this to show off any impertinent frank­ ness. I have so little claim on you now that I can only wish you to an­ swer—just to answer and let me know, how you and Mrs. Carlyle are. And indeed I have myself little more to say than to ask it. But do tell me so much. If ever you should be minded to come down here, you know you will be welcome: I will do my best to entertain you, by giving you what Food you will at the Inn close to my Lodging: taking you to Sea in my little Ship—and—leaving you alone. Ever yours E. FitzGerald 1

Of Frederick the Great. Carlyle's essay on Boswell's Johnson, Past and Present, and Cromwell's Letters and Speeches. 2

To Thomas Carlyle Markethill, Woodbridge June 29/62 Dear Carlyle, I forget if I told you in my last that there is some account of your Frederick in Dr. Burney's Musical Tour in Italy, France, Germany, Volume III.1 What there is, as you may suppose, about F.'s Fluteplaying (which Burney heard), his conduct of Concerts, etc., not very much: yet his exclusive regard for his old Master Quantz's music, and Graun's,2 has, I suppose, some Character and Value. Burney says, he (Frederick) stopped half an hour before Correggio's Nightpiece at Dresden, when first he entered that City. Thank you for your News of yourself. I wish you could come down here, and have a Sail with me, and a Bathe by yourself, and some Good Wine at the Bull Inn. I am just now going to Alfred Smith's Farm—not at Farlingay.3 Had I told you that his Father was dead—this Spring—after a short Illness:

July 1862 Cold, caught by going to Church? His end was—Beef: for he was murmuring about Sales of Cattle, etc., to the last. Ever yours E.FG. 1 am in mourning for a Brother-in-Law. 1Charles Burney (1726-1814), music historian, in 1771 published in one volume The Present State of Music in France and Italy; in 1773 The Present State of Music in Germany, the Netherlands, and the United Provinces, two volumes. Citing from memory, EFG refers to the second volume of the later work. 2 Johann J. Quantz, flute player and composer, from whom Frederick the Great took flute lessons. Karl Heinrich Graun, composer and conductor of Frederick's court orchestra. 3 CarIyle had lodged with the Smiths as EFG's guest at Farlingay Hall in 1855. In 1862 Alfred was farming at Sutton, three miles from Woodbridge, across the Deben; and EFG made a practice of visiting with him on Sunday afternoons.

To Mrs. Tennyson Market Hill, Woodbridge July 5/62 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, I had forgot about my "sea-letter"1 till you recalled to me one I had written out with some Scraps from Cook. As that gave you (and Alfred, I think) some pleasure, I have written out, you see, a whole Sheet from Dampier, which you (please!) must get up, and introduce at the good moment, when the Stars are right for Pegasus to come to his Corn-bin. There's a flight for you! I say the Booksellers should make a Compendium—or whatever called—from Dampier who has a fine Story to tell, though too long. But no one ever will do anything I advise in a direction where alone I am competent to advise. I don't mean Sea matters: but the way of tell­ ing them and other matters. Does know the little legend of "Haxey Hood" in Lincolnshire?2 Don't ask him, but tell me; that I may perhaps tell you how to let him light as by chance on a little Story of his own Old Country which twenty years ago he would have made blow into a pretty Violet. (N.B. This is not my flight: but comes from a Volume of Poems by an obscure Author about twenty years ago.) "High Dawn, high Winds: low Dawn, low Winds"—that is accord-

July 1862 ing as the Sun appears above a Bank of Cloud or not. This Proverb (also in Dampier) was said to me about a fortnight ago at Sunrise off Orford Ness—on the contrary— "Near Burr, far Rain: far Burr, near Rain." Burr is the halo that sticks about the Moon, I suppose. We have an odd, and not bad, metaphor here. They say the Sea that had been all of a Toss suddenly fell "calm as a Clock" or "Clockcalm." We talk of hearing the Wind hustle in the Trees; and Cook talks of the Tide gently hurtling the Ship over to the other side of the Bay etc. Good words, I think. Dare/j\use Drydens "barbarous" (Johnson says) word—"Spoom?" "When Virtue spooms before a favoring Gale, My heaving Wishes help to fill the Sail"3 Spoom is to be found in old Dictionaries to express running before the Wind in a high Sea: the Word gradually got to Spoon·, and the People here talk of "Spoon-drift" for Spray. I don't like the Spoon: but as to spoom—I say Dryden owes much of his Vigour to his use of his pro­ vincial and other Slang. Ever yours, E.FG. This letter doesn't want Answer. 1

The February letter to Mrs. Tennyson. has it that one January 6, about the year 1300, a Lady de Mowbray, wife of the owner of most of the land in the parish, was riding in the vicinity of Haxey when her silk hood was blown from her head. A number of rustics vied to retrieve the headdress, whisked about by a sportive wind. Lady de Mowbray was so amused by the antics of her champions that, when the hood was returned to her, she promised each man a piece of land if the group would devise a similar contest to be played annually. The incident is credited with being the origin of contests, "Throwing the Haxey Hood," and various folk rites held each January 6, the afternoon before St. John's Day. The games culminate in a mammoth scrum in which squads of men from the five hamlets in the parish strive for possession of the Haxey Hood, a stuffed leather tube some two feet long. As many as 200 players engage in the melee, and the victors carry the trophy to their hamlet pub for a celebration at the tavernkeeper's expense. Antiquarians, however, propose that the contests and revels evolved from ancient Druid rites and not from the temporary loss of Lady de Mowbray's hood. 3 The Hind and the Panther, Part ΠΙ, 96-97. 2 Tradition

July 1862

To George Crabbe Woodbridge July 16/62 Dear George,

I returned here on Thursday Evening and found your two Letters. Why, I never meant to charge you seriously for not writing, but simply to say what seemed to me (as you say it is) very natural why you shouldn't write. Very few men as they get older, and have the proper cares of Men to attend to, willingly take to Letter writing, as you know. I was sorry I had not gone to Norwich with you. I did go there on Wednesday Evening and looked about on Thursday Morning, before returning home by Yarmouth. I saw Scott's Furniture House, and also Trevor's, which latter appeared to me would be available in case of my wanting such Things. So I know where to go for them. At present, I don't encumber myself with such Articles as I know I can always get. On first showing Doughty1 that Plan of the Seckford St. House, etc., he thought the Purchase would be a good one; and that one might always command a Tenant if one did not care to inhabit oneself. Yesterday however he went to look at the House: and rather altered his opinion: he thought the whole (as it is) almost too poor a Thing for the Money: especially as Drainage is out of the Question. But he still thought I could always let the Place, if altered. But if that be the only prospect, I wouldn't meddle. Dove, the Builder, says that Drainage is not so necessary since he would sink a Dead-well which would hold all one's refuse for one's Lifetime: and he says none of the other houses in the Street are better off. He would build what I showed you for about £200—or, with Attics above, £250; which would, with Purchase Money, run to close on, if not quite, £500: more than double of which I would gladly give for what promised a little better. As to Causton's house, it is being occupied: but I believe the Tenant would leave if wished: only I still think one gets down to the Bottom of a Well there. You will doubtless advise me to stay where I am till something better turns up: but I am very tired of waiting. Dove is going to see if there be good Water at the Place: the Pump is shared by the next Neigh­ bour: and, unless the well be very deep, one thinks it must be vitiated by some of the Dead wells, etc., about and above it. I tried, when at Norwich, to remember the name of the Framer who had the Cotman2 you told me of. I tried at three: in vain: but the

July 1862 last (Gilman) had a Crome Sketch of the River which I bought. Gilman thought little of it: and was much more anxious to show his Water Colour Drawings, by Cotman, Turner, etc., which all together were not to me worth Crome's hasty Sketch. He also sent for a Gainsbro Cows in a Landscape: which only arrived about five minutes before I started: so as I left both Pictures to follow me: the Crome I had bought, and the Gainsbro which I saw was genuine, but which I should little have cared to give £100 for. However, I wished Church­ yard to see it: which he has been doing this morning. I am glad to find he quite agrees with me: a true and pure Gainsbro it is; the Cows admirably drawn and expressed: but the Landscape in that hasty and (I think) heavy style which G. dealt in when he came to copy himself rather than Nature. So I am going to send it back; Churchyard is de­ lighted with the Crome. Now this very long Letter does not want a long answer if any. Only tell me at any time any hints you can give me about a House. Yours, E.FG. No Drainage, because Bingham3 will not allow it to his Abbey Grounds. 1 Frederick Goodwin Doughty, Woodbridge justice of the peace; one of EFG's intimate friends. 2 John Sell Cotman (1782-1842), Norfolk artist. 3 Peregrine Bingham.

To E. B. Cowell MarkethiU: Woodbridge July 23/62 My dear Cowell, I can't tell if you or I wrote last: it is a long time since we either of us have written, I think: my last (I think) was some three months ago. You may imagine I have but little to tell: living down here from the year's Beginning to the End, unless with a short flight to my Sister's in Norfolk. I have been but twice, and each time for a Day only, to Lon­ don: where I rushed about to have Teeth looked to, buy some Goods I wanted, etc., and went to see Nobody. In return, Nobody (as is quite fair) comes to see me—unless it is Donne who has been once: Thomp­ son once: and my old Schoolfellow Airy once. Then as to Reading—I

July 1862 read nothing you would care about—my Persian has fallen quite into arrear, having no one now to prick the Sides of my Intent. I write twice a year to Carlyle, Tennyson, Spedding, etc., just to hear how they are: and they make so much answer. As to their public Doings, I suppose you have seen Carlyle's third Volume of Frederick—which seems to me to show that Carlyle's Right hand begins to fail: Spedding's two first Volumes of Bacon—which are late in the Market, Hepworth Dixon having anticipated—by Stealth, I believe—much of his Defence and put it into a short and popular Shape that Dr. Whewell has set his Seal to: and Tennyson has identified King Arthur with Prince Albert: a not unnatural Deduction from Idylls of the King, though not to be expected from the Morte d'Arthur of twenty-five years ago. Spedding, I think, has done his Hero some Dis-service in enchasing Bacon's Letters in his own Narrative: the Pedantry of Bacon (and there seems to me little else in his Letters) coming out all the more strong from Spedding's lucid, direct, and hearty Narrative. I told him he should have left the Letters, etc., separate: he of course only smiles at that. One thing that always bothers me in London, and among the Wits and Wise Men, is—that they can give such admirable reasons for being wrong, while I can give none for being right. I call them Phil-osophers, while I am only a Doctor Fell-osopher.1 Mrs. Tennyson, who generally answers for her Husband, wrote me that she, or he, had heard from you, or her, more than once; in conse­ quence, I think, of some mutual Friends in India. I am very glad of this: for you will both of you be glad to be in communication with Old Alfred: whom I do not the less recognize as The Great Man from Head to Foot though I think he has fallen short of himself in his later Works. It gives me a thrill of pleasure to happen on his Lines quoted, whether in wise or foolish Books, with no more reference to the Author than when Shakespeare is quoted. I do little else, now Summer is come, than be afloat on River or Sea—asking how Wind and Tide are—what such a Schooner or Billy­ boy is, and whither going; and amused with my two men's Jabber about Winds and Seas, and seeing them cook and eat their Dinners, etc. Yesterday I took an old Doctor here round the Coast to Aldbro and back—and we are to have some more sailing, fishing, and smoking, together. By the bye of Aldbro, I must tell you a piece of my usual Prudence —or Perspicacity. When you sent me the £.100 last year, I laid out the greater Part of it in some Boats, Sails, and Fishing Gear (that is the word) for a Family at Aldbro,2 very hard working and good People,

July 1862 whom I had long known and employed. They were all united in their Poverty: but when the Boats and Nets came, The Devil came too, stir­ ring up a little Jealousy among them: to whom the Boats, etc., most belonged? to whom the Profits, etc.? This however did not go very far: and as I fortunately had not given away the Boats out of hand (for fear of their being seized in any DiflBculty) I was able to apportion them as a Loan, and to have a Voice in adjudicating the several Claims. This, a long Story to fill up half a side of a little Dispatch to India. But, as it had some reference to you, the mention of Aldbro, etc., brought it to the Nib of my Pen which has so little to say. As to Politics—you know I have little Talent for them—or I might almost say little Taste: for, as to Talent, what are we to think of much wiser and more experienced Men who so constantly misjudge and misact in the Matter? Did I tell you in my last that Mr. Smith of Farlingay was dead? I can't remember, and will not make a detail of what I may have told you before. Not that there was much to detail: his Health had been shaken to its foundation by his Wife's Illness, etc. He had been shaky ever since: and this Spring caught a cold (going to Evening Church) which grew into a sort of Fever and killed him in five Days. Now their pretty cheerful Farlingay is offered to me to hire with its sufficient Furniture—two excellent Servants—Garden, etc., and every one has advised me to go there at once. But I am afraid to leave even so dull a Town as this for the yet sadder Country: though that Country be the most cheerful of its Sort, and indeed almost in the very Town I daren't leave. So I continue in this little Lodging, till I shall find a little house to suit me; and when I do—shall probably remain where I am! So now for the present, with all old Regards to your Wife and Your­ self Ever yours E.FG. 1John Fell (1625-86), worthy Bishop of Oxford and Oxford educator, the victim of a bit of undergraduate doggerel. Dr. Fell proposed to reinstate a student about to be expelled from the University, provided the youth translate extempore an epigram from Martial (I, 32). Without hesitation the student parodied the Latin in a rhyme, now usually given in a more rhythmic form:

I do not love you, Dr. Fell, But why, I cannot tell, But this I know full well, I do not love thee, Dr. Fell. 2 James Fisher and his two sons, Ted and Walter (Thomas Wright, Life, II, 21).

July 1862 To R. Μ. Milnes Markethill: Woodbridge July 24162 Dear Milnes, First, pray excuse me for addressing you—and so familiarly—after so long intermission, and on a matter of Politics: which I least of all understand. But this "abominable" Police-poaching Bill—as a Tory Justice him­ self called it yesterday—which I hear has passed the Lords, and has already made some way through your House—oh, do prevent its get­ ting through!1 This Suffolk is, you know, . . .2 Screws, who look to every Penny. You will think, if you get thus far, that I have some private Pique against them. But I assure you I have not: have never spoken, nor tried to speak, to one of them, and myself live far too out of the World to be touched by them in any point. But can any but a Game preserver think of this Bill with Patience, still less, any one who has lived long enough down here to know that there was already too much Protec­ tion for that useless Class—and worse than useless. Are they now to set the Public Police on suspecting poor Men, as well as their own private Police? This Tomline3 calmly proposed to enclose a considerable Arm of this Estuary River,4 and make a Fishpond of it: doing which would have endangered the Passage of the Main Channel by excluding one of the Currents that keep it clear. I believe his Design was checked by the Trinity Board . . . one could submit to be devoured by a Lion, but not to be gnawed up piecemeal by Rats. But even with our Greater Man: here is Lord Stradbroke's Estate overrun with Game that tempts men even on the Highroad: and Lord Rendlesham, who celebrates his Coming of Age by not suffering even a Rabbit to be killed by his Ten­ ants. And, worst of all, the great Mr. Tomline—inheritor of the illgotten wealth of the "Heaven born Tutor to the Heaven born Minis­ ter,"5 who is really buying up all the Land between this River Deben and the River Orwell, and making a Game preserve of it. His keepers pop up their Heads wherever one takes a walk near his . . . but do Stop The Bill: and believe me, and many a poor Man, your most grateful Servant Edward FitzGerald 1 MiInes

had been an M.P. since 1837. of the letter are missing.

2 Portions

September 1862 3 George

Tomline of Nacton. Creek, which joins the Deben a mile below Woodbridge. 5George Pretyman Tomline (1750-1827), Bishop of Lincoln and subsequently of Winchester; one-time tutor, later private secretary of the Younger Pitt. 4 Martlesham

To Louisa Stannard Woodbridge Sept. 12/62 Dear Louisa Stannard, Mrs. Pulham has told me, from your own lips, that you are to be Mr. Ling's Wife.1 Now believe me when I say that I have often thought what a good thing this would be for both of you: and I was wondering last Sunday Evening if even then it ever might be. I have written to him to con­ gratulate him sincerely on the most wise thing he has now done; he will perhaps show you my Letter: and—you naughty Girl!—do you deserve that I should write more to you who would not write, or say, even a word of all this to me? Now look here—I was going to send you a little Present, supposing you were going quite away: and now I shall only enclose you what I do to buy something for your Wedding! I am sure you will choose something for yourself better than I can: I am sure it will not be any­ thing of vulgar Show, which I may say that I should not have chosen: but, as many Friends give things, one is apt to give what others have given. God bless you both! Yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald P.S. Pray let me know when your Marriage takes place, that I may drink your Health at any rate. If ever I went to any such Ceremony again, I think I should like to go to that—if I were asked! But I have almost done with such Things: and should not offer to meddle with Alfred Smith's on Wednesday, even if I had been asked to that—which I have not. I am afraid you can scarce make out this Scrawl. But I will now write plainly—how sincerely I am glad, and both wish, and anticipate, the Happiness of you both. E.FG.

September 1862 1 The

second wife of William Ling of Otley. His deceased first wife, Anna, was Alfred Smith's sister.

To William Ling MarkethiU: WoodbHdge Septr 14/62 Dear Mr. Ling,

I heard from Mrs. Pulham on Thursday, and "Head-quarters" yester­ day, that Louisa Stannard was to be your Wife—I don't know when I have heard a better piece of News. I believe that neither of you could have done better, and that, if one can prophesy Happiness in any human Case, one may do so in yours. I always respected her Good Principle, Good Sense, Cheerfulness, and Activity, and Kindness: I have seen reason to think still more highly of her from her Courage, as well as AfiFection, in the Trials she has had of waiting on so much sick­ ness at Farlingay. Who so fit to be your Wife as one who so carefully attended your late Wife, and has since so carefully attended your Boy? Beside all this, she has a nice Taste in Housekeeping, Gardens, etc., which will greatly help to make your House agreeable as well as com­ fortable. And allow me to say, that, as I always respected your Kindheartedness and Good Sense, I do so much more now; seeing that you have chosen a Wife for her intrinsic good Qualities, and seeing that there alone your Happiness is likely to be found. I feel sure that you have chosen one who will quite supply her whom you lost. What can be better! I am most sincerely glad for both your Sakes; and am yours and hers very sincerely Edward FitzGerald

To Stephen Spring Rice MarkethiU: Woodbridge Sept. 15/62 My dear Spring Rice,

"What cheer?" The last time we exchanged Letters was about the time of the "Trent" affair: which we debated. I think this was our last.

September 1862

Laurence was down here painting a portrait of one of my Nephews1 a fortnight ago. He told me of having seen you in London some while this Summer. But do write and tell me about yourself. I finished in Bed this morning—not for the first or second time—that capital Book of Haydon's Life—so very well (I believe) edited by Tom Taylor.2 Surely Haydon should have occupied himself with writing rather than painting. His Account of his Visit to Paris in 1814, and to the Duke at Walmer;3 as also his Interviews with Scott, Wilkie, etc., are surely capital. This is one of the Books (not many) which is as a Man talking to you—a test, I think, of Vitality in Books. Haydon is a curious Instance of a Man just failing of being a Genius in his Art. He certainly stept into the Ridiculous there. What's all this to you and me? Why, only that I was occupied with it two hours ago—and I had best tell of that—for I have little else. I have been here ever since the "Trent Affair" as I had been so long before it—only going to Norfolk, or vapouring about the Coast in an old rotten yacht of ten tons I have hired.4 When I look at the Light­ houses, Lightships, Buoys, etc., which so plentifully stud our shoalwater Coasts, I often think of you and the Vigilant. Almost every time we go out of our Deben Harbour, with its confounded Bar, which shifts, and bothers and endangers even my little Ship with its Shoal and its Breakers, I wish you were in Office, to order us a larger Buoy at one end of the Shoal. For what we now have is scarce bigger than a Fisherman's Float, and is scarce discernible when there is any "Spuffle" of Water, nor when Dusk comes on. So as my Men think it is kept so small on purpose to give the Pilots a Job. Can't you advise some of your Old Board5 to set this to right? We have had but an ungenial Summer for sailing: but yet I have been thus occupied the greater part of it. I am now looking out for a newer and better Vessel, and when I have got it shall probably not use it. I wish you could be here to go with me, and to see all the Gewgaws I have crowded into this little Bit of a Room I lodge in. Well—do write to me anyhow: tell me about yourself, Wife, Family, and Mrs. Frere: and believe me ever and always yours E. FitzGerald 1 John's

son at Boulge. The Life of B. R. Haydon from His Autobiography and Journals, 3 vols., 1853. 3 The Duke of Wellington, while Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, at his official residence, Walmer Castle, on the coast of Kent. He sat for a portrait by Haydon in October, 1839. 4 The Criterion. 5 Impaired health had compelled Spring Rice to resign his post as Deputy Chairman of the Board of Customs in 1859. 2

September 1862

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethill: Woodbridge Sept r 18/62 My dear Spring Rice, I see by your Handwriting that you were better not to be too much at such Work. So, at least, I fancy: indeed, you say something of the sort: and I thank you all the more for writing—not only to me—but to your Captain (?) for me—about the Buoys, I mean. The End of that will be, I know, that nothing will be done: they will see (if they come down to look) that the Main Signal-buoys are all right: and they won't be troubled with the little Floats which mark the Edges of Shoal over our Bar; which are very important to us little People at Woodbridge, but are beneath the notice of the Central Power. So I expect. This Bar is a great Bore (no Authority of Man can remove that, I think) even my little nine-ton Boat wants at least two hours flood before she can get over it: and then, if there be any Wind against the Tide, then a Wobble that daunts the Boat, and wets one's for'ard Man to the Skin, and always the chance of being stranded, and one's Boat knocked to pieces. Aldboro, or Orford Haven, is in the same Plight. Did you know that it was a merit in a Boat not to make water enough to keep herself sweet? Such was the boasted Character of one given me some while since. It is not the Virtue of my Boat: which is an old, nearly rotten, concern; hired for the Season: one I had bought having turned up worthless. I really take to River and Sea because the wretched Squires have made my old Country so ugly by cutting down all Trees and Hedges that I don't care to look at it again. Then they steal our old Footpaths: and, when they have stolen them, now employ Police to arrest those who would go that way, as suspected Poachers. When I was with you in the Vigilant, I was talking one Day with the Steersman: it came out by degrees that he came from Suffolk—from near Woodbridge—from a little Place in Hollesley Bay called Shinglestreet—that his name was Langmaid: and I said I knew at once his Brother who keeps a little Inn there, and goes off in a Boat to steer one into the Orford river, over the Bar. I wonder if you should ever come down to see me here—and have a little Cruise—that would be pleasant. As to my going to see anyone— why, I have never yet got up to Boulge (Malebolge) where my Brother has been with shifting relays of Kinsmen these three months. Laurence has been there doing a Nephew of mine: I have not even seen the

September 1862 Picture: but Laurence came here to see me: and he looked thriving in person, though they say he is poorly off. And I am now reading—Clarissa!—for about the fifth time. It is, I admit, as dull—as Life itself—a Book of Original Genius. I am sure I could make it readable; by cutting out above one third: but no one would believe me. Don't answer this. Ever yours E.FG.

To Stephen Spring Rice [Markethill] [September 23, 1862] [Spring Rice note: "1st Sheet to Trinity House."1 The remainder of EFG's letter follows:] Thus much for any Authority you may please to put the case before. For you know better than I that Authorities are apt to acquiesce in what is on very slight enquiry, and don't want to be troubled with Distinctions and Changes. If Milner Gibson2 whose Big Yacht lives in Aldbro River lived in ours we should soon see this set to right. He, indeed, has almost a worse Bar to deal with than we have; so much so that only yesterday, when after being twice sent back, we were carried by Pilot over that Orford Bar, the Pilot told me in justification that "even Mr. Gibson lay a whole Fortnight unable to get out of the River—only two months ago"— astonished that the Creator did not order Things better for such a Great Man. You will perhaps fancy that I myself am become very nautical. But, as in other Affairs of Life, I only sit by and look on; but I don't want my little Ship to be always in danger of running on the Shoal and being broken up any time we step from River to Sea. My Captain (who has only one Leg)3 rests very uneasily on that one till we are fairly over the Bar Breakers: and there is perpetual Bother of his calling to his "Mate" forward, "Jack!—do you see the Buoy?" Then Jack doesn't see; or answers with his Back turned, so as no one hears him; and then I scold: and when we are once free give them a Glass of Rum. Come—now my Pen is in for such matters I will tell you how I was amused with these two Men when we found a Dead Man floating about near Orford Ness on Saturday. Captain Jack3 was for picking him up and carrying him home to bury: Mate Jack was for leaving him alone

September 1862 as being dead, dead, dead, indeed—all swollen, etc., and he did not care to meddle with such sad things when no use. "Why," says the other, "I didn't think you was so Ducfc-hearted; how would you feel a-floating dead about with no one to bury you!"—So got into the Boat but found indeed there was no use trying to take in the far-gone Body. I had been appealed to to decide the Dispute: I confess I rather sided with the Duck-heart: but I respected the old Homeric Feeling of the other, and told him to go if he thought right. Here is a long Story of a little matter; but it may amuse you a little if you do not think of answering it. One of my pleasures with Sailors is their very fine Old English: some of it not known elsewhere, and missed by the Compilers of Provincial Glossaries, who busied themselves with the Land-labourers rather than Sea. There are words for Nets, etc., at Lowestoft which must have kept to that Neighbourhood alone for these 1000 Years. Then the Sailors, as you know, have a fine Poetry about them—of its sort. I admire their Phrase of a Ship "beginning to complain" when she is strained. Another said of a little Boat I had, "Ah—she go like a Wiolin, don't she!" Enough of this Twaddle. I wish you could go with me, my dear kind Spring Rice, believe me ever yours Edward FitzGerald Now you will be bored; for No. 44 may desire an Answer—but only when quite easy to you. Does your Trinity Board control the River Banks? And, if so, do you know what the Law is about Right of Way by River sides: and if you do, what is it? Hereabout—along this Deben—we have for the most part raised Banks, called Walls, all along the River to the Sea; on the Top of which has been, during the oldest Memory, a Right of Way for Men. But now we have a Set of Squires who (all Screws!) whether to entrench in their Land for1 Crops, or for their d—d Game—are sticking up Placards of Prosecution against all who travel along those walls— which many want to do, in going from Woodbridge to the Ferry at the River's Mouth. We have one Great Squire—Tomline—inheritor of the Scoundrel Bishop's Wealth—who keeps buying up Acre after Acre between the Rivers Deben and Orwell (so as purposes, they say, to own all the Peninsula between—d—η him!) and to makeia Gamepreserve of it! So now any poor Man who used to walk these walls, is now collared by Gamekeeper after Gamekeeper—even if the Poor Man has no Gun in his hand, which he carries for Wild-fowl, Herons, etc., and another small Squire has stuck up White Boards to warn all off.

September 1862 I have been told there is by Law a certain Right of Way just above High-water Mark: and if so, there is Right of Way along these Walls which embank the High Water, and are raised for that purpose. Can your Trinity insist on this? The Board already has, I am told, prevented Tomline enclosing a Creek of the River, which he destined for a Fish and Fowl Preserve. And now this new Bad Act for Police-poaching5 will arm the Police with Power to arrest Men who go trespassing on their own Ground. Tell me of this at your Health and Leisure. 1 An ancient corporation responsible for maritime affairs, including maintenance of lighthouses, beacons, and buoys, and the licensing of harbor pilots. EFG's complaints about the buoy on the "confounded Bar" bore fruit. See subsequent 1862 letters to Spring Rice and that of July 27, 1863. 2 Thomas Milner Gibson of Theberton and London, former M.P., had served as President of the Board of Trade under Palmerston and Lord John Russell. 3 John Smith, first skipper of the Waveney, who forfeited EFG's confidence the following December. Mate Jack, young John Howe, appears to have been "signed on" when the Waveney was sailed beyond the mouth of the Deben. Howe later was second hand on EFG's yacht, the Scandal. 4 Another page of the letter. 5 The new law gave increased powers to the county police to combat poaching. Though vigorously opposed in Parliament as poorly drawn and unfair, the bill was carried by the Conservatives.

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethill: Woodbridge Septr 29/62 My dear Spring Rice, I must thank you at once for your Note received this morning— telling me that something shall be done about my dear Buoy. I now only hope they will get hold of the Right one. I am really very much obliged to you for taking all this Trouble— not only having to read and digest my Letters about this, but also having to answer them. I doubt, from your Handwriting, that this task had been some trouble or Effort to you. Well—don't answer this, anyhow. I have said, and say, little to you about your Health; you must know that I wish it better, and best; and you know that I can do little more than wish, and there is no use repeating that. I can safely say, I wish there was any­ thing I could do to serve you.

September 1862 I wonder if you have a Clarissa?—which I am glad to see I am at last seeing to the end of—for the fifth time, as I constantly boast. But if you have a Clarissa, I would tell you to read three or four Letters which show what Richardson could do, and what he might have done had he been born a Gentleman, or not be-womaned as he was when a Bookseller. Parts of Lovelace's (the Rakes) Letters are—Shake­ speare! The Wicked Wit is the best part of this notoriously moral Book. And De Besenval1 tells in his Memoirs that one Effect of the Appear­ ance of the Book in France (where it was such [a] rage) was that a Friend of his at once set to work to imitate—the Hero! My Mother read assiduously: and imitated the Parents2 very effectually. Ever yours E.FG. 1 Pierre J. V. de Besenval, M6moires de M. Ie baron de Bdsenval, 4 vols., Paris, 1805. 2 Clarissa is brought to ruin through the craftiness of Lovelace and the tyranny of her parents.

To W. H. Thompson Markethill, Woodbridge Sept r 29/62 My dear Thompson, "What Cheer, ho!" I somehow fancy that a Line of Nonsense will catch you before you leave Ely: and yet, now I come to think, you will have left Ely, probably, and will be returning in another Fortnight to Cambridge for the Term. Well—I will direct to Cambridge then; and my Note shall await you there, and you need not answer it till some very happy hour of Leisure and Inclination. As to Inclination, indeed, I don't think you will ever have much of that, toward writing such Letters, I mean; what sensible Man after forty has? You have done so much more (in my Eyes—and perhaps so much less in your own) coming all this way to see me! I did wonder at the Goodness of that; I suppose Spedding didn't tell you that I wrote to him to say so. It was very unlucky I was out when you came: I have often thought of that with vexation. Well, I have gone on Boating, etc., just the same ever since. And just now I have been applying to Spring Rice to use his Influence to get a larger Buoy laid at the Mouth of our River; across which lies a vile

October 1862

Bar of shifting Sand, and such a little Bit of a Buoy to mark it that we often almost miss it going in and out, and are in danger of running on the Shoal—which would break the Boat to Pieces if not drown us. Here is a fine Piece of Information to a Canon of Ely and Professor of Greek at Cambridge! Spring Rice does not speak well, I think, of his health—not at all well—and his Handwriting looks shaky. What a Loyal Kind Heart it is! Ever yours E.FG. What a thing for a Letter!

To Frederick Spalding Markethill October, [1862] My dear Sir, On thinking over the matter of my little "treat" to the Rifles—1 I think that as we have deviated from a mere "snack" sent to the Ground (whether at FarIingay or BromeswelI) to a sort of Supper, we must not tie ourselves up to bare Beef and Beer, but must offer at least a Glass of Grog to top up with—so long as all is within Bounds of Temperance and Moderation. You spoke to me of Mr. Grout's2 Theory of an "Allowance" for such a Purpose. I shall leave it entirely to you to settle what, and how: only thus premising that I think some such mode of Grog had better be. The Difference of Expense is not worth considering, as far as I am concerned: and whatever one does one should do sufficiently, and with something above strict measure. You know what I originally proposed: and that I . . .3 but a simple Refreshment to my good Friends who take so much trouble for us all. But let us not ask them to a bare Refreshment: let there be some Grog! Finally, as I only do very little, I pretend to no more: and wish to have nothing whatsoever said about it. I rely on you to understand my meaning: and give you full Leave to act for me: and thanking you for all the trouble . . . 1 The

Woodbridge company of militia. of the Bull Inn. 8 The signature has been cut from the MS. A line at the bottom of page 3 and a few closing words on page 4 are missing. 2 Landlord

November 1862

To George Crabbe Markethill: Woodbridge NoV 9/62 Dear George, I heard from your Sister that you had been once more to London, for a last Sight of the Exhibition. I never got to it, after all. Whenever you do go to Town, I wish you would tell me if you chance to see any likely Pictures in the Shops: what I want is always of a light and gay Colour—of whatever School. I have been playing wonderful Tricks with the Pictures I have: have cut the Magi in two—making two very good Pictures, I assure you; and cutting off the dark corners of other Pictures with Gold Ovals—a shape I like within a Square, and doing away with much Black background. The Frame you had put the Secretary in I have put the Holy Family Section of the Magi in: the Old Frame being cut down to fit the White Horse Portion. Nearly all the rest of my Pictures I have cleaned and varnished, and have hung up in my two Rooms in the best way I can. I should like you to come and see all this Frippery: and have told you I will always give my Coach Fare to you if you will employ it in coming to me. But I can't press you to come all this way for such poor Empetainment as I hold out. Donne has just left me after a Visit of Three Days. This is very kind of him. Boulge was offered at Auction ten Days ago. Biddings went to £30,000: but the Reserve was above that: so all bought in. But John is eternally at the Railway Station to and fro between this and Ipswich, giving mysterious Intimations that something is still negotiating. I don't suppose he really wishes to sell the Place. It is now 8:30 P.M. and our noble Bells are ringing the Folks out of Church with a full Peal in honour of the Prince of Wales's Majority. Except this, I have nothing new to tell you of hereabout: I am but just come in from walking up by Turner's Farm—in a beautiful soft Moonlight after a wet Day. I sent my one-legg'd Man Jack to London and Isle of Wight to look for a Boat for me. He has not found one, and I doubt I shall have to build: and blunder of course. Now here is a long Letter about very little; let me hear of you, and, if possible, see you before long. Yours E.FG.

November 1862

To George Crabbe Markeihill: Woodbridge Nov r 19/62 Dear George, You will be welcome at any time: and the sooner the better. I only answer now for the sake of Thrapes: 1 which I remembered at once as the Fapes of Moore and Forby. When you come you shall see their Articles. By the bye, you should have a Forby: if I happen on one, I will pick it up for you. Petman21 know well: Sash—Kay—and Closure. I don't find in either Forby or Moore. You say you hear that Etheridge's3 Crome sold for £.70 to a London Dealer. What Crome? You don't mean the Cotman you told me of? I dare say you won't like all my Cuttings down of Pictures—covering up the dark sides with golden Spandrils, etc. But I am sure these Pictures are so much darker than when painted: and I prefer Gold to Blackness. Besides, Encrease of Frame, if it may hide and huddle part of a Picture, makes the rest look more precious. I have just got down a huge Portfolio of Theatric Portraits from London: and am half amused looking at them, and half terrified at the Thought of packing them back again. Barlow has begun his Hunting, I hear. What do you do in Norfolk with the new Poaching Bill? Write to me sometimes; come when you can: and believe me yours sincerely E.FG. 1 Norfolk

provincialism for immature gooseberries; in Suffolk, japes. Smallest pig in a litter. 3 Probably Benjamin Etheridge of Eye, Suffolk.

2

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge Nov. 19/62 My dear Donne, Now it is my turn to be the tedious Old Man. I am sorry you have had the Trouble to consider or write about the Binding. Have it bound up just as it is, with blank Leaves at either End as you say: and all will do well enough. I like always bright Green, or Red, for my Colours.

November 1862 I have wished for you here: for Evans has sent me such a PortfoKo of old Theatrical Prints to choose from as you would have liked to look over. I am going to keep many of them; so as, when ever you come again, we will have a Prose1 over them. I now enclose two small Scraps: one which must be good of Garrick in Woman's Clothes: and one of Kemble as—an "Old Horse." I wish you could have seen a sketch, and a very clever one, of Mrs. C. Kemble in very tight Men's Clothes, by De Wilde2—all whose Portraits are good. I have not dared to buy it: but I almost think it should be bought up. However, don't suppose it's absolutely indecent: but only so as one certainly would not wish one's Mother to be represented. And then—what do you think of a Print of our old "David Fisher Junr" done after his brief London Season,3 and very like? I would send it if the Envelope would carry it. Ever yours E.FG. Did Mowbray pay for my Cigars? I want another Pound of the same: and to pay for them. 1

A chat.

2Samuel

de Wilde (1748-1832), who painted portraits of many actors in character. 3 Identified as "old" David Fisher, Jr. to distinguish him from his son, also David, who was active in the London theater 1853-84. The elder "David, Jr." was the son of David Fisher of Bungay, founder of a thriving theater circuit in Suffolk and Norfolk. After a moderately successful career in London, 1817-19, he rejoined his father's company and, following the letter's death in 1832, became part owner of the circuit. The print mentioned is reproduced in A FitzGerald Friendship, in which the identities of the second and third Davids are confused.

To W. B. Donne MarkethiU: Woodbridge Novr 20, [1862] My dear Donne, I post you the Portrait of D. Fisher—which keep, and don't send back Is of Stamps for it. Now I am going to give you a Trouble, and I hope to save you one. Is there time to bid the Binder letter my Volume: "Green's Diary" "Man of World"1

November 1862 to distinguish from other Extracts of Gentleman's Magazine which I mean to bind up. That is the Trouble given. Now as to what I wish to save you. Yesterday my Sister Wilkinson was here: and, among other things, spoke of meaning to ask you to review (and of course favorably) some German Book of Politics or Religion which her Friend Miss Bunnett2 has translated and is about to publish in England. I told my Sister that you were already too much of a Victim to other People in such ways: and that perhaps she did not know what it was to read through such a work, and then write an Article, which must be favorable if written at all: and then to thrust it into some Paper or Magazine which perhaps didn't want it. So I hope you will hear no more of this: but there is no saying when Women once get an Idea in their heads. However, you are now pre­ pared to answer, and can properly decline on the score of not meddling with such and such Topics, etc. I wish you were here to look over my old Theatre Portraits. Such good ones of King, and Parsons,3 especially. Ever yours E.FG. 1 The

spine label of the volume reads: Green's Diary and Portfolio of a Man of the World

See letter to Crabbe, [March 10, 1862], n.3. 2 Fanny Elizabeth Bunnet, who in 1862 published Louise Juliane, Electress of Palatine. 3Thomas King (1730-1805) and William Parsons (1736-95), both actors.

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge Nov. 28/62 My dear Donne, I talk indignantly against others bothering you, and do worse than all myself, I think, what with Bookbindings, Dressing-gowns, etc. (N.B. You know that the last is only in case when you are going your Rounds to St. James, etc.) Now I have a little Query to make: which, not being even so much out of your way, won't I hope trouble you. I remember Thompson telling me that, from what he had read and seen of Grecian

November 1862 Geography, he almost thought Clytemnestra's famous Account of the Line of Signal Fires from Troy to Mycenae to be possible (I mean you know in the Agamemnon).1 At least this is what I believe he said: I must not assert from a not very accurate Memory anything that would compromise a Greek Professor; I am so ignorant of Geography, ancient as well as modern, I don't know exactly, or at all, the Points of the Beacons so enumerated; and Lempriere,2 the only Classic I have to refer to, doesn't help me in what I want. Will you turn to the passage, and tell me what, and where, are: 1. The 2. The 3. The

Μακίστου σκοποί Μϊσσαπίου φύλακα όρος Αίγίπλαγκτον3

What, where, and why, so called? The rest I know, or can find in Dictionary, and Map. But for these— Lempriere Is no-where; Liddell and Scott4 Don't help me a jot: When I'm off, Donnegan Don't help me on again.— So I'm obliged to resort to old Donne again\ Rhyme and Epigram quite worthy of the German. 1 Some

scholars believe that a signal to report the fall of Troy could have been flashed by means of beacon fires from Mt. Ida to Mycenae; others contend it would be impossible. The subject has produced "much throwing about of brains." 2John Lempriere (1765P-1824), English classical scholar, editor of Bibliotheca Classica, 1788. 3Three mountain-peaks: Macistus on the island of Euboea, Messapius in northern Boeotia, and Aegiplancton in Megaris. * Henry Liddell and Robert Scott, Oxford scholars, editors of Greek-English Lexicon, 1843. James Donnegan published A New Greek and English Lexicon in

1826.

To W. H. Thompson (Fragment) [Markethill] [November, 1862] I took down a Juvenal to look for a Passage about the Loaded Waggon rolling through the Roman Streets.1 I couldn't find it. Do you

November 1862 know where it is? Not that you need answer this Question, which only comes in as if I were talking to you. I remember asking you whence Aeschylus made his Agamemnon speak of Ulysses as unwilling at first to go on the Trojan Expedition. I see Paley refers it to some Poem called the Cypria quoted by Proclus. I was asking Donne the other Day as to some of the Names of the Beacon-places in Clytemnestra's famous Speech: and I then said I believed—but only believed, as an inaccurate Man, not wishing to implicate others—that you, Thompson, had once told me that you thought the Chain of Fires might have passed from Troy to Mycenae in the way described—just possibly might, I think. I assure you I took care not to commit your Credit by my uncertain Memory, besides, whatever it was you said was only in a casual way over a Cigar. Are you for "Ατής θνελλαι or "Ατψ θνηλαΐ—ζώσι? a point I don't care a straw about—so don't answer this neither. No, I didn't go to the Exhibition: which, I know, looks like Affecta­ tion: but was honest Incuriosity and Indolence. I see now I have written this second Part on a Sheet begun to a Niece3 and I leave you to conjecture the meaning of the Codex. On looking over Juvenal for the Lines I wanted I was amused at the prosaic Truth of one I didn't want: 2

Intolerabilius nihil est quam femina dives.4 Ever yours E.FG. P.S. I send Evans a cheque for £, 10 by this post. 1

Cowell identified the passage as 1. 254 in the Third Satire: longa coruscat/ Sarraco veniente abies. "a long beam sways on an advancing wagon."

"I sent it to him one day from London, where I watched a waggon so loaded early one morning going down Cheapside," Cowell explained to Aldis Wright. "E.F.G. was greatly taken with the line and used to call it the Cheapside line" (Cowell Biography, pp. 309-10). 2 Conjectures of J.G.J. Hermann on Agamemnon 1. 819 in his edition of Aeschy­ lus, 1852. "The wind-blasts of her [i.e., Troy's] destruction live," or "The sacrifices of her destruction." 3 The fragment reads: My dear Lusia, I send you by your Mother's hand the garnet 4 Satires 6.460. "Nothing is more intolerable than a rich woman."

December 1862 To Ε. Β. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge December 1,62 My dear CoweU, I bad your Parcel of Sanskrit Metamphysic,1 on which I do not pre­ tend to offer an opinion. No doubt this most ancient, and once im­ portant Literature (nay, now important as showing the Nature of the People's Mind we have to deal with) ought to be set forth by some one: and I am sure no one will do it so justly as yourself: and if you take delight in it I suppose it is sufficient proof that in it you are well busied. You will one Day again take up Persian as Child's Play; but I still wish you would do the Mesnavi as I wanted you to do it—an Abstract of it—which I feel sure would interest a large Body of English Readers. It seems to me you might soon accomplish this by bestowing half an hour a Day on it. This is surely the Persian Work we most want in English. By the bye, if you have made any Annotations on my Birds,21 think you might as well have the whole printed in an independent Pamphlet for me—say 100 copies or so: and, keeping what you care to keep, send the rest over to me. I do not think, after all, your Asiatic Society will care for it in their Magazine: it is not literal enough to serve their purpose; and I certainly do not wish you to have any trouble in forcing it on them. And, as I have a Copy here, I could print it for myself: only, as you said you had made some Elucidations and Notes I should wish above all to have the benefit of them. I do not think it would cost you much Trouble to write a short Introduction about Attar's Life and the Nature of his Poem, etc.—a very little would do: and it would be everything for me: for I am always so afraid of blundering in Names, Facts, etc. (as Irishmen do) that I generally blunder the worse for over-anxiety to be accurate. Of course I shall pay for all the Expense of Printing, which may be as plain and unpretending as possible: indeed, like the Pamphlets in Green which you have sent over to me. But, if this be anything like an Invasion of your proper Studies, you are to leave it quite alone.3 I still think I shall one day finish an impudent Version of the Aga­ memnon, and of Calderon's Vida and Magico.4 But I have now a sort of Terror at meddling with Pen and Paper in that way, and make no hand of it when I try. The old Go is gone—such as it was. One has

December 1862

got older: one has lived alone: and, also, either one's Subjects, or one's way of dealing with them, have little Interest to others. I have had my one Visitor for the year—Donne—who came for three Days. He asked after you and Wife much. Only today he has sent me a Paper of his in Fraser on Spedding's Bacon5 which he says has quite convinced him. (You know one could convince Donne of Greenacre's Innocence).6 Have you read Spedding's two Volumes? They leave me where they found me: but then I am one of the Rabble per­ haps who naturally take the evil View of Great Men. As to going to India, I should like to be there; but I should only be wanting to get back again when there, unless I carried all my Goods as well as myself and settled myself there—for the End! I am now too old, and too fixt in Habit, to venture on what goes so much against it, as I find on much less serious Expeditions. I really don't get to London even for a Day now: not that I so much mind starting; but, when there—Cui Bono? Let me be back at Markethill! By the bye, please to direct to me here in future: as here, or some­ where in Woodbridge, I seem likely to be. Please to remember this: please to remember me to the Lady: please to believe me ever yours E.FG. BIBDS

P.S. In the Birds, it should be noted why the hudhud is called Tafdar:7 because hudhud is an ugly word, and that Taj'ddr is given as a Name, or soubriquet, of the Bird in Johnson's Dictionary. One of Southey's Common-place Books quotes from Niebuhr's Travels8 that this Hudhud is "A beautiful Lapwing common on the Shores of the Persian Gulf, and supposed by the Arabs to have the Power of Speech." The APPLE SHOT ON THE HEAD STORY "These feeble Arabians are not in Strength or force of Arms to be compared to the Mamalukes, of whose Activitie I have seen great Experience. A certayne Mamaluke laid an Apple upon the heade of his Servant, and at the distance of about 12 or 14 paces stroke it from his Head."9 Vertomannus Travels:10 in Hakluyt's Collection. Voliune iv. In a Collection of (I think) modern popular Oriental Songs translated into English by some German with a name like Chodzkow,11 there is a Lament on the Death of some Chieftain by a Slave: who, among other Feats of his Master, relates how he would shoot a Rose from this

December 1862 Slave's Tresses with his Gun. I have mislaid (as usual) the Paper on which I had written this out: but you probably have the Book in your Oriental Library. This is all I can think of to say about the Birds: and there is nothing necessary to be said, unless about the Tajidar's Name; and perhaps a short Apology for the Freedom of Condensation and Translation— which you can preface with a better Grace than I. But on the other hand no such Proviso may be necessary or advisable : unless about the Seven Valleys:12 and anyhow I leave it wholly to you. Looking at this Vertomannus, I find another Note I made from him. Does it throw any Light on Alexander's horns?13 "When they"—the Arabs—"come to 40 or 50 years of Age, they make them Homes by wreathing the Heare of their Heades, so bearing two Homes like young Gotes of their own Heare, and that they thynke very comely." 1 Written

for metaphysics? translation of Attar's Mantic-ut-Tair. 3 EFG failed in this attempt to dodge the labor of preparing his Bird's-Eye View of Attdr's Bird Parliament for the press. He had begun to translate the Mantic in 1856 before the Omar Khayyam MS captured his interest. The failure of the Rubdiydt to gain recognition arrested his work on Attar's poem for a time, but in 1862 he sent his MS to CoweII, proposing to offer it to the Journal of the Bengal Asiatic Society, probably on the condition that Cowell approve. "Some parts of it are really magnificent," Cowell informed Aldis Wright in 1883, ". . . but I felt that it was too free and unscientific to be printed in such a Journal" (Cowell biography, p. 283). Reluctance to permit his friend to be subjected to a second snub very likely accounts for Cowell's delay in responding to EFG's suggestion. Cowell's critique of the poem did not reach the translator until January 31, 1864. (See letters to Cowell, Aug. 5, 1863, and Jan. 31, 1864.) The Bird Parliament, an enter­ taining Siifi allegory, was first published in the Literary Remains. 4 Calderon's La Vida es Sueno and El Magico Prodigioso. 5 The leading article for Nov., 1862, pp. 529-48, a review of The Letters and the Life of Francis Bacon, by James Spedding, vols. I, II. 6 James Greenacre, hanged in 1837 for the murder of a woman he had proposed to marry as his fifth wife. 7 In the Bird Parliament EFG altered the spelling Tafddr to Tajidar. 8 Karsten Niebuhr (1733-1815), German traveler. An English translation of three volumes of his account of his Eastern travels was published by Robert Heron, Edinburgh, 1792. 9 "Tell's Apple, long before his Time," EFG observes in a footnote to the apologue, part of the Tajidar's rebuke to the proud Shah-Falcon. EFG also gives the "rose" version of the story, subsequently mentioned, in his note. 10Ludovico di Varthema, also known as Vertomannus (fl. 1502-10), graphic reporter of travels through the Near East, India, and the East Indies in Itinerario di Ludouico de Varthema Bolognese (1510). 2 His

December 1862 11 Specimens of the Popular Poetry of Persia, 1842, orally collected and trans­ lated by Alexander Chodzko, Polish-Russian scholar who had served as Russian Consul in Persia. 12 In the original the birds pass through seven valleys in their pilgrimage to the sacred mountain, Kaf. EFG retains only three in his version. 13 See letter and enclosure to Cowell, May 2, [1855].

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge Decr 2162 My dear Donne, Your Parcel came yesterday. I say sincerely that I think your Paper on Bacon is very well written indeed; there is an Ease and Freedom of Style which I think some of your other Things wanted: this is partly, I suppose, from so much practice in Writing: but also, I think, from your letting your Humour, which is so good a Part of you, into the Composition. I can't agree with you in all you say, nor in the upshot you arrive at; I suppose you purposely refrained from praising the Old Monster's (Spedding's) Writing—though you speak of "grave and graceful Language," etc., for I have no doubt S. (as I think you said he saw the Review before Publication) would have been rather wroth than pleased with any such Praise of himself. He has, in the main, every reason, I should think, to be pleased with what you have done for him. The Speeches on the Theatrical Dinner are all pleasant. As to Mr. Shore's Pamphlet,1 I am going to make my Brother John read it first. As to the Paley Aeschylus:2 why, it is Mowbray's Copy which he lent me for months: and now you, like Mr. Turveydrop Senior,3 very handsomely present me with your Son's Property! What Things are these! Again—When I read in your Letter that you had ordered Scarlet for my Dressing gown's Lining: what did I do but instantly write to Lord to tell him that I had tried to drum Crimson into your Ears—but all in vain, it seems! Lord answers by return of Post that he had observed the Gent, who ordered for me was rather feeble, etc., and will of course send me Crimson. My dear Donne, in earnest let me thank you for all your Presents and Services. I did write to Lord—referring to you, Mr. Donne: else, had he ever known of me before my Commission to you, I should not

December 1862 have troubled you, but him direct. But I never had bought of him: only had his Card: and he didn't know me or my name. Ever yours E.FG. P.S. Mrs. Faiers4 has been here, dining with me, Today; she asked much after you together with the other Gentlemen whom she used to see at my Cottage. I find that one of her Glories is that, once, she and I entertained six Divines one Evening at that same Cottage (she is not certain if not seven). She is grown very infirm, and sat down on a large glazed Print of St. Cecelia; but only Saint Cecelia was the worse. Mrs. Faiers (after a little cold Beef and Brandy and Water) began to prophesy in grand English: she was telling me how the Gals dressed out nowadays—how they went about "pomped up" (she said) with Roundabouts that made 'em like Beer-barrels. Manby comes to me now and then. One of his Churchwarden Sentences sticks to me as oracular; he wouldn't let a Baker's Boy carry Pies through the Churchyard. I said (feebly)—"Oh, let him go—let him go." "No," says M. "Stick to your Rights." 1The

Reverend J. Shore (1793-1863), who had been Donne's housemaster at Bury St. Edmunds Grammar School. 2Frederick A. Paley (1815-88), classical scholar, published an edition of Aeschylus, 1844-47. 3 Character in Dickens's Bleak House. 4 EFG's former housekeeper at Boulge Cottage.

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge Decr 3/62 Dear WBD— (Which is in order to vary a little what I think you are tired of seeing from me.) Herewith I enclose a Receipt for the Bill which you have so meanly sent me—and sent it so directly as if afraid I should shirk it. But I refrain— I forgot to say in my yesterday's that I was very pleased with your laying it roundly on H. Dixon's Back.1 So is Robert Groome—who has been with me this morning, after preaching an Occasional Sermon

December 1862

here (I mean, at the Church) last Night. I did not venture inside the sacred Edifice: but I looked through a Glass Door in the Porch and saw R.G. and heard his Voice (not the Words) ascending and de­ scending in a rather dramatic way. Today, the great News in Woodbridge is, that F. Alexander,2 the Quaker Banker, was at the Service! I have been told this by three People Today. Mr. Manby also tells me that, on Saturday, your Host, John Grout, gives Tripe and Oysters to his Customers. So, if you can conveniently come down, you will be admitted, and have to make a Speech. This you would doubtless call a Subject for the Trip-os. You take? Tripe, you know. E.FG. 1 2

In Donne's review of Spedding's Bacon. Frederick Alexander, of Ipswich.

To Alfred Tennyson Markethill: Woodbridge Decr 14/62 My dear old Alfred, Christmas coming reminds me of my half-yearly call on you. This time you must sign the end of your Answer, whether otherwise written by Self or Wife: for I have been asked—now for half a year—for your Signature to put under a Print of you: and you see I have not been too ready to bore you for that Favour. Let me hear how you both are: and your Boys: and where you have been this Summer. Thompson wrote me word some Days ago that he had met you at Woolner's (I don't know when) having come up to see your Dentist, and (as he naturally thought) agreeably surprised to find he was in Norway. I have, as usual, nothing to tell of myself: boating all the Summer, and reading Clarissa Harlowe since. You and I used to talk of that Book more than twenty years ago. I believe I am better read in it than almost any one in Existence now. No wonder: for it is almost intoler­ ably tedious and absurd. But I can't read the Adam Bedes, Daisy Chains, etc., at all. I look at my Row of Sir Walter Scott and think with comfort that I can always go to him of a Winter Evening, when no other Book comes to hand. I think you must come over here—one Summer's Day—not till Summer!—but before many Summers are gone. Else—who knows? Do

December 1862 you smoke? I sometimes talk with Seafaring Men who come from Boston in Billyboys—and from Goole, and other Places in the Humber —and then I don't forget the Coast of Locksley Hall. Ever yours E.FG.

To George Crabbe

[Woodbridge ] [December 20, 1862] My dear George, I wonder if these pretty Sheets of Paper have got to Watton?1 Thank you for the News about Pictures, etc. Churchyard had seen the Drawings from Crome, at any rate not worth £-10, he thought. (They are from the Sherrington Pictures.)2 As to Gilman's Cromes which are to come to Market we shall enquire further: probably not half of them are Cromes. We did not know about the Nation's buying that at the Great Exhibition. Mr. Churchyard is very glad they did not buy the Great Oak Tree which has been spoilt in the cleaning. The one they have bought was one spoilt by the Introduction of a Butcher with some Sheep, painted right in the Centre (not by Crome). That it was that deterred Churchyard from buying it near forty years ago, when offered him by Freeman for £30. The Sheep and Butcher have since been removed, and the Space they occupied must have been re­ touched, if not repainted: but, as far as Churchyard could judge, very skillfully. So now at last Old Crome may become famous; he said he should be fifty years after his Death. He died in 1821. I dare say it was some Foreigner's admiring him that at last made Eastlake and Com­ pany3 think there might be something in him. I have just bought an Early Gainsboro' which Churchyard has had for years: I bought it because it was light, bright, cheerful, and making a good figure in my Room. I now have made almost the best I can of such Pictures as I have, and sit and survey my handywork with con­ siderable Pleasure. But I must one Day oust some of the Black things and get lighter. I am sure that dark Venetian's Head you have would improve by having the Edges rounded off with Gold Panel; I mean [A crude sketch to demonstrate how FitzGeraId blocked out the dark portions of his picture]

December 1862

I have had three or four of my Blacks so done off; but all don't agree with me in this. I hope you'll come soon and see all these things. I am still floundering about yacht building: can't buy second hand to suit, and can't decide (of course) whom to employ to build. I have been, and am, reading Borrow's "Wild Wales," which I like well, because I can hear him talking it. But I don't know if others will like it: anyhow there is too much of the same thing. Then what is meant for the plainest record of Conversation, etc., has such Phrases as "Marry come up," etc., which mar the sense of Authenticity. Then, no one writing better English than Borrow in general, there is the vile Individual—Person—and Locality always cropping up: and even this vulgar Young Ladyism, "The Scenery was beautiful to a Degree." What Degree? When did this vile Phrase arise? E.FG. 1 The letter-paper was imprinted with "A Merry Christmas" above the figure of a bird. 2 Probably the pictures of James Sherrington, of Edgehill House, Ipswich. 3 Sir Charles Eastlake, director of the National Gallery and president of the Royal Academy.

To Stephen Spring Rice [Woodbridge ] [December 22, 1862] My dear Spring Rice, I wonder if this pretty Letter Paper has reached Foynes?1 I heard from Spedding yesterday that you had taken to Homeopathy, and were the better for it. Pray let me hear about you this Xmas, if it isn't a bore to you to write. As to old Spedding, I think I shall scarce dare to write to him again: he replies with such sardonic disinclina­ tion. Yet I know he would be glad to see me if I went up to him: and would do me any Service he could. I have also written my half-yearly Letter to /j\ : and am about to do the same to Gurlyle, who (Spedding says) has (he hears) finished his Frederick and looks fifteen years younger in consequence. Thackeray I never write to now, as he either wouldn't answer, or with great Reluctance. Laurence thinks him spoilt by being a Great Man. Do you? The other Day, as I was going toward our River, I saw a new Buoy waiting to be taken by Boat to our Harbour.2 And the Custom House

December 1862 officer—one Johnstone—I think a Paddy—rushed out to congratulate me on our Success. I have already risen in the Eyes of my Townsmen. And now I have got to build a Yacht: for I can't find one secondhand such as I want—"Between ten and fifteen Tons—fast, but not a Racer —a good Sea-boat," etc. All such Boats are built to draw six or seven feet Water: and our River and its Bar are too shallow to go in and out conveniently with that Depth. I have sent to the Isle of Wight, etc. So now I must build: and who shall build for me? Look at Borrow's Wild Wales if it comes across you, though I don't know if you would like it as well as I do who can hear him talk it. But it is much too long, and too much of the same thing, for me; and plenty of Faults and Wearinesses. How can such a Masculine Writer talk of Scenery being "beautiful to a Degree"? When did that silly Phrase rise? Ever yours E.FG. 1

In County Limerick. letters to Spring Rice, Sept. 15 to 23.

2 See

To W. B. Donne Markethill: Woodbridge Decr 29/62 Oh, you must carry your vile habit of Punning even into the Binding of Books. So, because one Greens Diary is to be bound, Green is the Colour chosen! I should have thought the Jest too obvious. However, since this Thing has been perpetrated, and in all respects (except that vile Incorporation of a Pun) very well, I wish to know the Cost. Reply not to me by a Fool-born Jest—but let me know Figures. My dear Donne—let me wish you and yours a Happy New Year: as I hope you had a happy Xmas. I spent most of the Day with my Brother's Wife at Boulge. Last night Monsieur Manby and the Captain of the "Barney Burton" (i.e., Bernard Barton) Schooner, supped here— on oysters, Scotch Ale, etc. I am still bothering about a Boat; and my one-legged Jack is to be haled before the Magistrates on Thursday for appropriating a piece of Wreckage which he ought to have carried to the Customs. Mr. Manby wanted me to go with him to London Today, and to see a Pantomime at Night. But I can't trust myself [to] that

January 1863 fiery and full blooded Youth in the dangerous Ways of nocturnal London. But the Bird of Minerva warns me to desist from my nightly Task. Pen, begone! Ever your affectionate Clarissa

To Anna Crabbe1 Woodbridge Jan. 23/63 My dear Anna, I received your Father's Note and your own yesterday and thank you for both. Your Aunt Caroline had written to tell me of the slight Fever which Papa had got: she said, I think, that the Winds had become cold at Mentone. It is well your Papa is not in England now; not in Norfolk, at any rate. For I always think it is colder with you than here; and here it is cold enough now, I am sure. However, I have not had to complain of the Cold so far as regards my own health, having up to this time felt better than for the last two or three Winters. But one must not boast; and Spring is yet to come, which I think is most trying of all. I shall write to Papa directly: for a Letter, with ever so little in it, may amuse him. I wished to have sent you both a little Present this Christmas; but I don't know what to choose, nor where to buy: nor do I think what I bought would very easily reach you this weather. So I enclose an order which you can get changed at Watford (if you can ever get there) and buy something for Self and Sister. Give her my Love: and my Compli­ ments to Miss Stearn: and believe me yours E.FG. I gave away two sets of "Table Croquet" last year: which I hear were liked. I would have sent you that if I could. If you like to get it (which I dare say you can at Watton) I will send you the odd Money if you tell me. I think it costs some 23s. But you must please yourselves. 1 Daughter

of George Crabbe of Merton.

March 1863

To George Crabbe Markethill: Woodbridge March 3/63 Dear George, On my return from Gelson on Wednesday, I found your Newspaper Notice about the Crome Sale. (N.B. I had your Letter at Gelson.) Of course Mr. Churchyard had some Business in London on Friday: which providentially chimed in (he says) with the Crome Sale: several—or many—of the Pictures were genuine Cromes: some of which he had known thirty years ago; all of them much discoloured by Dirt—some much cracked—all sold at about half their market Value. John Sheppard1 was in the room, and sidled up to C. to ask him about a very fine or rather large one—which C. begged him to buy: but S. stopped short at £50. C. bought none; which was also providen­ tial—but I believe he expects to become possessed of a small choice one in time—which I must leave to Providence. There has been a grand Fight about Church rates here, in which my friend Manby was principal Deponent: I will send you a Paper if I can get one. The case is to be carried to the Ecclesiastical Court now, I believe; Doughty told Mr. Causton that Mr. Jackman was delighted with Manby's Evidence—straight from John Bull. C. Walford was Chairman!2 There are grand Doings to be here on Wales's Marriage;3 and Walford, on a very pretty Bay, was asking me an hour ago if my Brother John intended anything at Bredfield. I told him I never meddled in that Quarter: and that he (C.W.), White, Brewster, Brooke, and Dufton would surely make a handsome Entertainment for the Parish. Old King had been here in the morning and told me that no one but my Brother ever did anything in Bredfield, except a very few Pounds for Coal at Xmas. Captain Rouse dines his Rifles at the Lion. I was setting out to furnish them with Coventry Favours; but hear that Lawyer Wood has anticipated me. Can't I buy a nice little Silk Dress for each of your Girls? And of what Colour? This I say, because I am glad to lay out a little money here now and then. But I ask you beforehand, because I think you are particular in your girls' Dresses, etc., and very properly so. People say about here that Lord Rendlesham is stumped up for money (gambling) and gone abroad. I had for some time heard that Tradesmen found it hard to get Money of him. What will Le Capi-

March 1863

tainei say! Gerald said at first he hoped Lord R. would spend in two years what Brooke had been hoarding. Adieu E.FG. 1 Of

Campsey Ash, Wickham Market. F. G. Doughty of Woodbridge; William Causton, the organist; William Jackson, Vicar of Falkenham and rural dean; Charles Walford of Foxborrow Hall, Melton. 3 The Prince of Wales married Princess Alexandria of Denmark, March 18. 4 F. C. Brooke of Ufford. 2

To The Reverend Ernest G. Doughty1 March 4/1863 'Tis the very best World one can Kve in, To lend, or to spend, or to give in: But to beg; or to borrow; or ask for one's own— 'Tis the very worst World that ever was known. He that doth lend Doth lose a Friend. Q.E.D. E.F.G. 1 Rector of Martlesham, adjacent to Woodbridge. He served as one of EFG's executors.

To W. H. Thompson [Woodbridge ] Good Friday [April 3], 1863 My dear Thompson, Pray never feel ashamed of not answering my Letters so long as you do write twice a year—to let me know you live and thrive. As much oftener as you please: but you are only to be ashamed of not doing that. For that I really want of all who have been very kind and very constant ("loyal" is the word that even Emperors now use of them­ selves) for so many Years. This I say in all sincerity.

April 1863 Now, while you talk of being ashamed of not writing, I am rather ashamed of writing so much to you. Partly because I really have so little to say; and also because saying that little too often puts you to the shame you speak of. You say my Letters are pleasant, however: and they will be so far pleasant if they assure you that I like talking to you in that way: bad as I am at more direct communication. I can tell you your letters are very pleasant to me; you at least have always something to tell of your half-year's Life: and you tell it so whole­ somely, I always say in so capital a Style, as makes me regret you have not written some of your better Knowledge for the Public. I suppose (as I have heard) that your Lectures1 are excellent in this way; I can say I should like very much to attend a course of them—on the Greek Plays, or on Plato. I dare say you are right about an Apprenticeship in Red Tape being necessary to make a Man of Business: but is it too late in Life for you to buckle to and screw yourself up to condense some of your Lectures and scholarly Lore into a Book? By "too late in Life" I mean too late to take Heart to do it. I am sure you won't believe that I am scratching you in return for any scratchings from your hands. We are both too old, too sensible, and too independent, I think, for that sort of thing. As to my going to Ely2 in June, I don't know yet what to say; for I have been Fool enough to order a Boat3 to be building which will cost me £350, and she talks of being launched in the very first week of June, and I have engaged for some short trips in her as soon as she is afloat. I begin to feel tired of her already; I felt I should when I was persuaded to order her: and that is the Folly of it. They say it is a very bad Thing to do Nothing: but I am sure that is not the case with those who are born to Blunder; I always find that I have to repent of what I have done, not what I have left undone; and poor W. Browne used to say it was better even to repent of what [was] undone than done. You know how glad I should be if you came here: but I haven't the Face to ask it, especially after that misfit last Summer; which was not my fault however. I always look upon old Spedding's as one of the most wasted Lives I know: and he is a wise Man! Twenty years ago I told him that he should knock old Bacon off—I don't mean give him up, but wind him up at far less sacrifice of Time and Labour; and edit Shakespeare. I think it would have been worth his Life to have done those two; and I am always persuaded his Bacon would have been better if done more at a heat. I shall certainly buy the new Shakespeare4 you tell me of, if the Volumes aren't bulky; which destroys my pleasure in the use of a Book.

April 1863 I have had my share of Influenza: even this Woodbridge, with all its capital Air and self-contented Stupidity (which you know is very conducive to long Life) has been wheezing and coughing all the very mild Winter; and the Bell of the Tower opposite my Room has been tolling oftener than I ever remember. Though I can't answer for June, I am really meditating a small trip to Wiltshire before June; mainly to see the daughters of my old George Crabbe who are settled at Bradford on Avon, and want very much that I should see how happily they Kve on very small means indeed. And I must own I am the more tempted to go abroad because there is preparation for a Marriage in my Family (a Niece—but not one of my Norfolk Nieces) which is to be at my Brother's near here; and there will be a Levee of People, who drop in here, etc. This may blow over, however. Now I ought to be ashamed of this long Letter: don't you make me so by answering it. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 As

Regius Professor of Greek at Cambridge. Where Thompson was canon. 3 The Scandal, built by John Harvey at Wivenhoe, Essex. 4 The Cambridge Edition of Shakespeare, 9 vols., 1863-66. 2

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethill: Woodbridge April [15, 1863] 10 P.M. My dear Spring Rice, After a walk on our River-wall (as we call the Embankment) in which a Farmer joined me, and then came home with me, and smoked a Cigar + Whiskey and Water. After this, I say, sitting alone, my Thoughts went somehow to you: and now they shall (part of them) go on paper and so travel to you. (Notverywitty) I think it was Thompson said in his last Letter that he had heard from you. So let me also hear from you. I can't tell when I did last hear from you: nor when I last wrote to you. No matter: here have I been ever since (of that I am sure) except an occasional Trip across the little River Waveney into Norfolk to see my Sister Kerrich: who

April 1863 has been ill, and is yet ill: and I somehow think I shall lose the only one of my Family I greatly care for—before I lose myself. I am getting a Boat built for me—at much more money than I ought to spend on such a Toy, and mainly for my own Amusement. But I think I shan't have much Enjoyment of my selfish Folly. The Buoy you helped me to for our River-mouth is now in its place: and is called by my Name, I believe. I wish you could come and take the Benefit of it in my new little Schooner: she talks of being ready by June; but I suppose won't. If no private Sorrow comes to cloud one, I expect we shall be over head and ears in an American War by Midsummer. I never cared much about it so long as I thought we had a clear Conscience. So we may have now; but it seems to me even the Saturday Review hesitates a little about the Alabama.1 What do you think? Some one wrote me that Spedding was growing rather disappointed at the few Converts his Bacon Book seemed to make. Do you know if this is so? I never expected he would make Converts: but he is so much a wiser Man than I that I should have supposed he would hardly miscalculate the number of his Proselytes however sure he was of the Goodness of his Cause. I often think, however, how a very wise Man has thrown his Life away almost as fruitlessly as some of us less gifted, who have therefore less to throw away. What do you think of this too? I have been idle enough to buy Moore's Life and Diary—which I had read ten years ago when it came from Lord John's hands. And I have a desire even to go and walk over the Ground he so often walked between Sloperton and Bowood2—a kind of Country I always was fond of : and now the Daughters of my old Vicar George Crabbe live close by: and, if ever I move so far, I will move that way and see them and poor Moore's haunts. I like him well, with all his weakness: I think he was a generous independent little Fellow, in spite of his love of fine Company—which I believe he liked because it was fine, in the better sense, not because it was aristocratic. Did you ever hear him sing? And what did you think of it? Now, answer me that. I rather think Mrs. Frere, when I asked her once, said it was "nice"—rather under the general Eulogy. I find I have taken two Sheets of Paper instead of one: but here is enough of a Letter. Tell me how Mrs. Frere is: how you all are: re­ member me kindly to all: and believe me, my dear Spring Rice, Ever yours E.FG.

May 1863 1 The ironclad ship Alabama built in Liverpool for the American Confederacy, had been permitted, through official negligence, to slip from port in July, 1862. She had inflicted heavy losses on Northern shipping for two years before she was sunk in an action off Cherbourg. 2 Thomas Moore's cottage was at Sloperton, near Calne, Wiltshire; Bowood Park was the seat of Lord Landsdowne, who befriended the poet.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge May 2, [1863] Dear George, If your Sister goes to Merton this month, I shall assuredly run over to you also, if you wish. I only said that I cannot be sure to be many Days with you: as I shall go to Gelson when they wish me. Only to the sad Funeral I do not go.1 There will be many Mourners, and I should, I am sure, do more harm than good. Kerrich writes as in great sorrow: but I feel sure he does not quite know all he has lost. If he did, he would be overcome with Remorse, as well as Sorrow, for having shortened the Life of this admirable Woman, though he is not re­ sponsible for doing so. He thinks he can manage the Family, and himself. Such a Woman sacrificed to such a self-Complacent Booby enwraths me: and yet he is five hundred times a better Man than myself—a very good Man indeed. And now I am building a Boat in which I was to be at Lowestoft while they were all there! Such are our Schemes. I already feel a Dread of the Coasts which I am to sail by, and somehow think I shall sicken of the thing just as I have spent all this money in pursuit of it. Barlow called here the other Day; and yesterday I met him riding to Barne's2 at Dunwich. Why can't you come here if you come so near? But I will surely go to you for some time if your Sister goes. I have also to go over to WiveiJioe to see about this confounded Boat, which is to [be] completed by June 1. Ever yours E.FG. 1 His 2

sister Eleanor died April 28. Frederick Barne of Grey Friars, Dunwich, and Sotterley Park, Wangford.

May 1863

To W. B. Donne Woodbridge May 22, [1863] My dear Donne, My "Gentleman" came safe to me yesterday—well breeched in Lincoln Green.1 I am obliged to trouble you to let me know what the cost is, which I will send you, together with 5/ for the former volume, which you probably have forgotten and wished me to forget. I write with a very bad middle finger, which I have suffered to grow bad so long that now it takes much Time and Poultice to get right again. But for this, I should have been off to meet Miss Crabbe at her Brother's in Norfolk: and even now, hope to be handy and decent enough to get off Tomorrow. But Mrs. Berry does not guarantee that. I had a very kind letter from old Spedding the other day. How rejoiced I was to see his hand in the New Edition of Shakespeare,2 only much too little of it. For as I told him twenty years ago he should have done the whole work: and then the same Portrait at the Beginning would have almost done for Author and Editor too. But the New Edi­ tion as it is, is the best, I have no doubt, we have got yet. I think I see that the Editors themselves would not like to be trusted with their own conjectural Readings: which they don't give many of. . . . I see Mr. Woodward's Magazine3 advertised. Look over Piotrowski's "Escape from Siberia"4 which seems to me a truthful and interesting Book. My new Boat is to be ready about the middle of June, I suppose, but I don't much care about it, since one of its uses (to be at Lowestoft with my sister) is gone; and all the Fuss about it has wearied one. I am obliged also to hire a new Captain: my one-legged Man having for­ feited my confidence; but where shall I find such EnglisM You needn't write so long a letter as this in return: but you must tell me what I owe you. And believe me yours ever E.FG. 1 Excerpts from the Gentleman's Magazine. See letters to Donne, Nov. 20 and Dec. 29, 1862. 2 Spedding is cited among the correspondents to whom the Cambridge editors were indebted. 3 The Fine Arts Quarterly Review, founded in 1863. 4 Rufin Piotrowski, My Escape from Siberia, translated by E. S., 1863.

June 1863

To George Crabbe Woodbridge June 8/63 My dear George, Your sister wrote me a very kind Letter to tell of her safe Return home. I must repeat to you very sincerely that I never recollect to have passed a pleasanter week. As far as Company went, it was like Old Times at Bredfield; and the Oak trees were divine! I never expected to care so very much for Trees, nor for your flat Country: but I really feel as one who has bathed in Verdure. I suppose Town-living makes one alive to such a Change. I spent a long Day with Thompson:1 and much liked the painted Roof. On Thursday I went to Lynn:2 which I took a Fancy to: the odd old Houses; the Quay: the really grand Inn (Duke's Head, in the Market place) and the civil, Norfolk-talking, People. I went to Hun­ stanton, which is rather dreary: one could see the Country at Sandringham was good. I enquired fruitlessly about those Sandringham Pic­ tures, etc. Even the Auctioneer, whom I found in the Bar of the Inn, could tell nothing of where they had gone. The name of your rich Quaker is Burlingham: (a silversmith) but as I saw nothing I cared for at his window, I didn't trouble him by looking further. Of one Lincoln, a Pawnbroker, I bought Eight Chairs; for which I am now sending Money, though how the Chairs are to reach me is beyond my Cal­ culations. I shall go to Beccles to see you one Day: why can't you come here— for more than one Day? Manby talks of my Boat being ready on Saturday: I don't think she will: and—I don't care! Kind regards to your Party. Yours ever, E.FG. 1 2

At Ely Cathedral. King's Lynn, Norfolk.

July 1863

To George Crabbe Woodbridge Thursday [June 25, 1863] My dear George, I can't say but I could go up to London very well now—but oh! 'tis very hot for London Streets, and I should find you but for one Day there after all. So here is a Letter instead of myself. My Ship has gone off to Ipswich1 to have that done for her which should have been done before she came to my hands. But I am rather relieved by her Absence. She bores me on the River, because of the Fuss about Mud, etc. I feel at ease in my old little Boat.2 Oh, Vanas Hominum Curas! I have just had some Tea down from my dear Baker St. Bazaar; and so by this time has your Sister, as I hope. If you see any good and pleasant light Portraits let me hear of them. Look in at Christie's tomorrow: it is odd but they have a Sale on Saturday. Only think of £1800 given for a Water Colour by Turner some ten Days back. I think a Yacht one hardly wants is better than this. Also, if you see any large picturesque China, Old or New, tell me of it. I have today quite a crazy Letter from Kerrich, but meant to be kind, I believe: asking me to go see him, and referring me to "As You Like It" for Consolation: with also a French Proverb. "On s'accoutume a toute Chose" though he says he has not yet found it so. I can't believe there is any real Sorrow. I am glad your Paper pleased so well. Give me a Copy, and believe me ever yours E.FG. 1 The 2 The

Harvey firm of Wivenhoe also operated the Halifax Yard at Ipswich. Waveney.

To W. B. Donne Markethill, Woodbridge Sat. July 18/63 My dear Donne, I only came back Today from a short cruise in my new Boat, and found your Letter—very welcome. Yes—I know something of the Mourne Mountain Country: but no farther than as a car took me over

July 1863 that road to Belfast some twenty-five years ago. I still have a pencil sketch, done from the Car, of one of the Hills. I suppose there is no use talking of your coming here so soon after an Irish Expedition. But you know you would always be welcome. So of Mowbray who (I understood from your former Letters) was to [go] to Ireland to fetch back your Damsels. I can hardly tell you whether I am much pleased with my new Boat; for I hardly know myself. She is (as I doubted would be from the first) rather awkward in our narrow River; but then she was to be a good Sea-boat; and I don't know but she is; and will be better in all ways when we have got her in proper trim. Yesterday we gave her what they call "a tuning" in a rather heavy swell round Orford Ness: and she did well without a reef, etc. But, now all is got, I don't any the more want to go far away by Sea, any more than by Land; having no Curiosity left for other Places, and glad to get back to my own Chair and Bed after three or four Days' Absence. So long as I get on the Sea from time to time, it is much the same to me whether off Aldbro' or Penzance. And I find I can't sleep so well on board as I used to do thirty years ago: and not to get one's Sleep, you know, indisposes one more or less for the Day. However, we talk of Dover, Folkestone, Holland, etc., which will give one's sleeping Talents a tuning. [No signature]

To George Crabbe Woodbridge July 19, [1863] My dear George, You tell me the Romney is at Gardner's: but where is Gardner's? And what was the Price of the Portrait? Laurence said well about Romney that, as compared to Sir Joshua and Gainsboro', his Pictures looked tinted, rather than painted; the colour of the Cheek (for in­ stance) rather superficially laid on, as rouge, rather than ingrained, and mantling like Blood from below. Laurence had seen those at last year's Exhibition: I have not seen near so many. I remember one that seemed to me capital at Lord Bute's in Bedfordshire. I came home yesterday from a short Cruise to Yarmouth, etc., where some people were interested in the Channel Fleet. But I could take no interest in Steam Ships and Iron Rams. Ever yours E.FG.

July 1863

To Herman BiddeIl Markethill, Woodbridge Thursday [July 23,1863] My dear Sir,

Airy first proposed to come this present week: I should have let you know if he had, in hope you would come and meet him here. He now talks of August 10; of which you shall hear in time. As to my going to meet him at yours—beside that you know I may say I go nowhere (alas! I have not yet found my way to Boulge, where my Brother has been these two months)—I feel it rather indelicate only to break that rule in order to meet an old Schoolfellow because he happens to be staying at a house where I know I am always kindly invited, and yet don't go. I can tell you truly, that if I went anywhere I should have been much more than once at Playford, where I find sensible, unaffected, and (best of all) unconventional People; and (next best) no formal Dinner: the stupid Dulness of which determined to drive me out of the Society hereabout as much as any thing else. However, we must see when Airy does come; he is very obstinate, you know; and makes a rather truculent mouth if one doesn't follow where he bids. You know how I mean all this; he is a real loyal Fellow, as well as a clever; and I am sure I value his old Regard, and like well a Talk of Old Times, and take it very kind that he should give up any holiday, and go to the Expense, for the sake of coming so far to me. Now, as to Frith,1 etc., I didn't half read the Review: but sent it to you to see what you would make of it. I quite agree with you about Hogarth, who (I always thought) made his pictures unnatural by overcrowding what was natural in Part, as also by caricature. For this reason, I always thought his Apprentices his best Series. But there are passages of Tragedy and Comedy in his Works that go very deep into Human Nature, and into one's Soul. He was also an Artist in Composi­ tion, Colour, etc., though in all respects, I think, a little over-rated of late years. I don't say that Frith is not more natural (in the sense you use the word, I suppose) than Hogarth; but then does he take so difficult a Face of Nature to deal with, and, even on his own lower ground, does he go to the bottom of it? Is there in his Derby Day the one typical Face and Figure of the Jockey, the Gambler, etc., such as Hogarth would have painted for ever on our Imaginations? Is Frith at all better (if so good) as Leech2 in Punch? If as good or better, are his Pictures

July 1863 worth a thousandth Part of the Prices given for them? Which, I think, is the Question with the Reviewer. I don't know about his Colour; but I have never heard of it as beyond the usual. If we take the mere representation of common Nature as the sum total of Art, we must put the modem Everyday life Novel above Shake­ speare: for certainly Macbeth and Coriolanus, etc., did not spout Blank Verse, etc. But they dealt in great, deep, and terrible Passions, and Shakespeare has made them live again out of the dead Ashes of History by the force of his Imagination, and by the "Thoughts that breathe, and Words that burn"3 that he has put into their Mouths. Nor can I think that Frith's veracious Portraitures of people eating Lunch­ eons at Epsom are to be put in the Scale with Raifaelle's impossible Idealisation of the Human made Divine. As you are a sensible Man, I drop "Mr." and "Esq." in directing to you. I wish others would do so to me. 1William P. Frith (1819-1909). His "Derby Day" (1858) is now in the Tate Gallery. 2John Leech (1817-64), staff artist for Punch from 1841 until his death. 3 Thomas Gray's Progress of Poesy, III, 3,1. 4.

To Stephen Spring Rice MarketbiUi Woodbridge July 27/63 My dear Spring Rice, Certainly I'm worth writing to, if a quick answer be all that's wanted. I had just done my early Dinner (Pease and Potatoes) and a small Bottle of Chablis, when your Letter was given me: I have not yet (I suppose) digested it all: but the Chablis rising superior to the Potato—look! here is my Answer! One Reason however is that in a few hours I am about to drop down to the Harbour in my new Ship: and tomorrow (if the S. Wind holds) to—Rotterdam: where I am to see the Hague, and Amsterdam, and then be too glad to "rush" home. I shall go out in Glory by—my new Buoy!—which has brought me the only κΰδος I ever had in these parts: it being supposed (from it) that I am all-powerful in Official Quarters, only that I am tender of putting forth all my Power. But really my Boy ("at last I have got one" is the saying here) is a good Boy, not only to his Parent, but to other way-

July 1863 farers over the Bar: they bless the useful Light, as I do. As to my new Ship: I was obliged at last to build: not finding one (after all Adver­ tisement and Enquiry) of sufficiently large size and sufficiently small Draught: the wonderful Size being—14 Tons!—5 ft. water—Schooner (which I was persuaded to have, vice a Dandy,1 which I wanted—and is best) not a Racer—but not a Carthorse—a good Sea Boat; with a Cabin that every one can sleep in, except myself—and so we plunge about Orford Ness, to Yarmouth one way, and the Downs2 another. Indeed one might coast along to Ireland: but, whether by Sea or Land, I am always wanting to be back at my stolid home after four or five Days. I believe a very red-faced Corn-merchant3 is going with me now: a good fellow: a John Bull: with Sense, Veracity, Experience, and Decision; better to me than all the colourless Squires, who know nothing that I don't know better: and that's not much. So much for Ship and Ship's Company. Now Moore comes up—yes, I think with you he damaged—not so much the Irish Tunes—as English Poetry—he was the Author of the sentimental-spoony which made Lords, Ladies, and Commoners write in Albums, etc., Father of Haynes Baileys,4 etc., and of Lord Morpeth with his "Free and feathery Jasmine tree."5 But he had an Ear: for Rhythm, as well as Tune—how can you deny it? Only not for the grandest Measures; but adapted to his "doucereux" Ditties. I think he was an honest little Fellow, too: and his Diary amuses me with an Account of People whom I am not obliged to see for myself. I bought his "Song of the Olden Time" just to see what (he tells us) made all the great Folks weep, and fly the Room in Hysterics for, some thirty years ago: poor enough in all ways. Yet I sometimes think of these among other Lines— When o'er the Silent Seas alone For days and Nights we've lonely gone, Ah, those who've felt it know how sweet Some Sunny Morn A Sail to meet. The Sails are backed—we nearer come, A few sweet words of Friends and Home, And then too soon we part in pain To plod the lonely Seas again.6 Poorish Verses, too—but then We Navigators of the Deep have a Ten­ derness that way. How fine is Dickens naming his Sailor's favourite Inn—"The Willing Mind."7 There speaks a Little Shakespeare.

July 1863 All this Nonsense—on a Black-edged Paper that should have made me tell you at first that my Sister was dead—three months ago—the only one of my family I cared much for, or who cared much for me. I had built this Boat partly to have it at Lowestoft two months this Sum­ mer, when She was to have been there; and now all that way of the Coast is sad to me. There's no use talking. I had a very, very, kind Letter from old Spedding a few days ago. They say he is much disappointed at the small Success of his Bacon— for Bacons sake, not his own—certainly. I never anticipated other: thirty years hatching a scheme for making—not the Blackamoor—but the Mulatto—white—how can such an Egg turn out but addled at 55! I think his Life is a Tragedy; considering all he might have done. For instance, it is he who should have edited the new Shakespeare: as really I told him more than twenty years ago, I am sure. Then I have had a Letter from "Grimsby"8 who is deep in Spiritual­ ism at Jersey: and, sitting one day with a Pen in his hand, felt it driven over the Paper by an unknown force—first designing Landscapes, then Sentences half nonsense, half sublime Sense, and ending with an assur­ ance (in writing) that it was "The Evil One" who dictated all. Think of the dear noble Old Soul! I didn't acknowledge your Pamphlet (I believe) for I wanted a Letter: and I thought the Pamphlet was scarce enough for a Challenge one way, or Argument the other. The Challenge you did not want to give; the Argument you could have made and enforced with other Experiences than your own simple "Ipse Biscuit"—and that, I think, you should have done if you took the thing in hand at all. I saw Thompson for a whole long Day at Ely some six weeks since. About this time he was to be free of his Canonical Duty: and said he might perhaps look this way before going out for his Summer Vacation. He was well; and we talked much of you and Spedding and one or two more. I am very glad you are pleased with your Daughter's Prospects.9 Was she one of the little ones that used to play on the Carpet at Lewisham ever so long ago? Was it "Theo"? You don't say how Mrs. Frere is—so I suppose much the same. (By the bye I haven't paid her poor Aldbro Woman this year's £1—but I will forthwith.) I suppose too (from your not saying otherwise) that your Wife is well. May Idleness make you so! Ever yours E.FG.

August 1863, I doubt if you can read this Scrawl: one might think I had been at Sea instead of going there. 1 "Dandy" is defined by a friend who sails as a boat "with dandy-rig—mizzen as well as mainsail—a yawl, in fact." EFG's "vice" is used here to mean "in the place of." 2 A well-known anchorage off the east coast of Kent. 3 George Manby. 4 Thomas Haynes Bayly (1797-1839), reputed to be, after Tom Moore, the most successful song-writer of his time, though many of his lyrics were over-sentimental. 5From "The Jasmine Tree," lyric by Lord Morpeth (1802-64), later seventh Earl of Carlisle. 6 Stanzas I and III of Thomas Moore's "The Meeting of the Ships." EFG, quoting from memory, alters the lines with his customary freedom. 7 Frequented by Peggotty in David Copperfield. 8 Frederick Tennyson. 9 Mary Spring Rice married Edward O'Brien of Cahirmoyle, Limerick, Septem­ ber 8, 1863.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge August 4, [1863] My dear George, I have at last done my Holland: you won't be surprised to hear that I did it in two Days, and was too glad to rush home on the first pre­ tence, after (as usual) seeing nothing I cared the least about. The Country itself I had seen long before in Dutch Pictures, and between Beccles and Norwich: the Towns I had seen in Picturesque Annuals, Drop Scenes, etc. But the Pictures—the Pictures—themselves? Well—you know how I am sure to mismanage: but you will hardly believe, even of me, that I never saw what was most worth seeing—the Hague Gallery! But so it was: had I been by myself, I should have gone off directly (after landing at Rotterdam) to that: but Mr. Manby was with me: and he thought best to see about Rotterdam first: which was last Thursday, at whose earliest Dawn we arrived. So we tore about in an open Cab: saw nothing: the Gallery not worth a Visit: and at night I was half dead with weariness. Then again on Friday I, by myself, should have started for the Hague: but as Amster­ dam was also to be done, we thought best to go there (as furthest)

August 1863

first. So we went: tore about the town in a Cab as before: and I raced through the Museum seeing (I must say) little better than what I have seen over and over again in England. I couldn't admire the Nightwatch much: Van [der] Heist's very good Picture1 seemed to me to have been cleaned: I thought the Rembrandt Burgomasters worth all the rest put together. But I certainly looked very flimsily at all. Well, all this done, away we went to the Hague: arriving there just as the Museum closed for that Day—next Day (Saturday) it was not to be open at all (I having proposed to wait in case it should) and on Sunday only from 12 to 2. Hearing all this, in Rage and Despair I tore back to Rotterdam: and on Saturday Morning got the Boat out of the muddy Canal in which she lay and tore back down the Maas, etc., so as to reach dear old Bawdsey shortly after Sunday's Sunrise. Oh, my Delight when I heard them call out "Orford Lights!" as the Boat was plunging over the Swell. All this is very stupid, really wrong: but you are not surprised at it in me. One reason however of my Disgust was, that we (in our Boat) were shut up (as I said) in the Canal, where I couldn't breathe. I begged Mr. Manby to let me take him to an Inn: he would stick to his Ship, he said: and I didn't like to leave him. Then it was Murray who misled me about the Hague Gallery: he knew nothing about its being shut on Saturdays. Then again we neither of us knew a Word of Dutch: and I was surprised how little was known of English in return. But I shall say no more. I think it is the last foreign Travel I shall ever undertake: unless I should go with you to see the Dresden Ma­ donna: to which there is one less impediment now Holland is not to be gone through. I only came home yesterday and found a Letter from your Sister telling me that Mrs. Sparkman was in an almost desperate way. This was very bad news indeed; by this time, I suppose, the Die has been cast for Life or Death. Barlow has taken into his head he would like to go in my Boat to Lowestoft. I have offered her to him: but I dare say he won't be present when the Time comes. I am the Colour of a Lobster with Sea-faring: and my Eyes smart: so Good Bye. Let me hear of you Ever yours E.FG. Oh dear!—Rembrandt's Dissection2—where and how did I miss that? 1 Rembrandt's "Night-watch" and Bartholomew Vander Heist's "The Peace of Munster," both in the Rijk Museum, Amsterdam.

August 1863 2

Rembrandt painted two "Lessons in Anatomy": one at the Hague, the other at Amsterdam.

To E. B. Cowell Market Hill, Woodbridge Aug. 5/63 My dear Cowell, I don't hear from you: I rather think you are deterred by those Birds1 which I asked you to print (in my last Letter) with some Cor­ rection, etc., of your own: and which you have not found Time or In­ clination to get done. But don't let anything of this sort prevent your writing to me now and then: no one can be more utterly indifferent than I am whether these Birds are printed or not: and I suppose I distinctly told you not to put yourself to any Trouble. Indeed I dare say I should only be bored with the Copies when they were printed: for I don't know a Soul here who would care for the Thing if it [were] ten times as well done as I have done it: nor do I care for Translation or Original, myself. Oh dear, when I do look into Homer, Dante, and Virgil, Aeschylus, Shakespeare, etc., those Orientals look—silly! Don't resent my saying so. Don't they? I am now a good [deal] about in a new Boat I have built, and thought (as Johnson took Cocker's Arith­ metic with him on travel, because he shouldn't exhaust it) so I would take Dante and Homer with me, instead of Mudie's Books, which I read through directly. I took Dante by way of slow Digestion: not having looked at him for some years: but I am glad to find I relish him as much as ever: he atones with the Sea; as you know does the Odys­ sey—these are the Men! I am just returned in my Ship from Holland—where I stayed— two days!—and was so glad to rush away home after being imprisoned in a sluggish unsweet Canal in Rotterdam: and after tearing about to Amsterdam, the Hague, etc., to see things which were neither new nor remarkable to me though I had never seen them before—except in Pictures, which represent to you the Places as well as if you went there, without the trouble of going. I am sure wiser men, with keener outsight and insight would see what no Pictures could give: but this I know is always the case with me: this is my last Voyage abroad, I be­ lieve: unless I go to see Raffaelle's Madonna at Dresden, which no other Picture can represent than itself: unless Dante's Beatrice. I don't think you ever told me if you had got, or read, SpeddingiS

August 1863 two first volumes of Bacon. My opinion is not the least altered of the Case: and (as I anticipated) Spedding has brooded over his Egg so long he has rather addled it. Thompson told me that the very Papers he adduces to clear Bacon in Essex's Business, rather go against him: I haven't seen any Notice of the Book in any Review but Fraser: where Donne (of course) was convinced, etc., and I hear that even the wise old Spedding is mortified that he has awakened so little Interest for his Hero. You know his Mortification would not be on his own score. His last Letter to me (some months ago) seemed to indicate that he could scarce lift up his Pen to go on—he had as yet, he said, written nothing of volumes 3 and 4. But I suppose he will in time. I say this Life of his wasted on a vain work is a Tragedy pathetic as Antigone or Iphigenia. Of Tennyson I hear but little: and I have ceased to look forward to any future Work of his. Thackeray seems dumb as a gorged Blackbird too: all growing old! I have lost my sister Kerrich, the only one of my family I much cared for, or who much cared for me. But (not to dwell on what cannot be helped, and to which my talking of all growing old led me) I see in last week's Athenaeum great Praise of a new Volume of Poems by Jean Ingelow.2 The Re­ viewer talks of a "new Poet," etc., quite unaware that some dozen years ago the "new Poet," published a Volume (as you may remem­ ber) with as distinct Indications of sweet, fresh, and original Genius as anything he adduces from this second Volume. I remember writing a sort of Review, when about you at Bramford, which I sent to Mitford, to try and give the Book a little move: but Mitford had just quitted the Gentleman's Magazine, and I tore up my Paper. Your Elizabeth knows (I think) all about this Lady: who, I suppose, is connected with Lin­ colnshire: for the Reviewer speaks of some of the Poems as relating to that Coast—Shipwrecks, etc. I was told that Tennyson was writing a sort of Lincolnshire Idyll: I will bet on Miss Ingelow now: he should never have left his old County, and gone up to be suffocated by London Adulation. He has lost that which caused the long roll of the Lincoln­ shire Wave to reverberate in the measure of Locksley Hall. Don't be­ lieve that I rejoice like a Dastard in what I believe to be the Decay of A Great Man: my sorrow has been so much about it that (for one rea­ son ) I have the less cared to meet him of late years, having nothing to say in sincere praise. Nor do I mean that his Decay is all owing to London, etc. He is growing old: and I don't believe much in the Fine Arts thriving on an old Tree: I can't think Milton's Paradise Lost so good as his Allegro, etc.; one feels the strain of the Pump all through:

August 1863 only Shakespeare—the exception to all rule—struck out Macbeth at past fifty. By the way, there is a new—and the best—edition of Him coming out: edited by two men (Fellows) of Cambridge. Just the Text, with the various readings of Folio and Quartos: scarce any notes: but sug­ gestions of Alteration from Pope, Theobald, Coleridge, etc., and— Spedding; who (as I told him twenty years ago) should have done the work these men are doing. He also says they are well doing about half what is wanted to be done. He should—for he could—have done all; and one Frontispiece Portrait would have served for Author and Editor. Come—here is a long Letter—and (as I read it over) with more Go than usually attends my old Pen now. Let it inspire you to answer: never mind the Birds:—which really suggests to me one of Dante's beautiful lines which made me cry the other Day at Sea. Mentre che gli occhi per la fronda verde Ficcava io cosi, come far suole Chi dietro all' uccellin la vita perde, Lo piu che Padre mi dicea, etc. P.S. August 6. Not finding an Envelope at hand I left my Letter (which had not room for my Name) till Today: when I receive one from Donne, who tells me his Son Mowbray is to be married to Edith Salmon; about whom and whose, your Wife, I am sure, will know all. Mrs. Salmon (the Mother) was a Worship of Yarmouth: and the Donnes and Worships have been intimate—for a Century almost, I believe. Donne himself is (as usual) working away at Reviews for the Edinburgh, Fraser, etc., and tells me he is now upon a third Review of Merivale's History for the former. Indeed, Donne, as usual, works too hard—for others, too, rather than for himself: and his Head has given more than one such indication of wanting rest as caused the Doctors to post him off into the Country, and to forbid Pen and Paper for a while. Now I have begun another Paper, I may as well say about the Dante lines in above quoted, that they are the first in Canto XXIII Purgatorio: and that the "uccellin" mean the Fowl that the Fowler spends his Life in pursuit of. I see I have said this passage made me cry: so it did: not that it is anything so great for Dante: but these little touches of his are very affecting to me: these notices of pastoral Life amid all the stern Civil Warfare of the Time, and interposing between Dante's own

August 1863 severe, and somewhat savage, humour. Look, pray, at the simile of the Doves scattering, Se cosa appare ond'elli abbian paura, etc. Line 127 Purgatorio II, and the wonderful one of the Ghosts trooping towards— Come Ie pecorelle escon del chiuso Ad una, a due, a tre, e l'altre stanno Timidette atterrando l'occhio e il muso; E cio che fa la prima, e l'altre fanno, Addossandosi a lei s'ella s'arresta, Semplici e quete, e Io 'mperche non sanno: Si vid' io muovere, etc. (Canto 111.79) One can't help quoting all, once one begins. What a word is "addossandosi" for the Thing! All such things are indeed small compared to the grandeur and Pathos of other Parts: as the Meeting of Statius with Virgil: the Apparition of Beatrice at the End of the Purgatory: and (my old Sublime!)—that last mention of her, as she sits At the Right Hand, close to the Centre Light, from which she smiles down once—once—on Dante—"Poi si torno all' eterna Fontana" —oh, where are such things in Persian or Sanskrit! They make [one] young again. Ever yours E.FG. 1 EFG's

Bird Parliament. Poems, reviewed in the Athenaeum, July 25, p. 106. Miss Ingelow had pub­ lished A Rhyming Chronicle of Incidents and Feelings in 1850. 2

To George Crabbe Woodbridge August 16/63 Dear George, I don't know if Drew's1 Letters amuse you as they do me: but I venture two P.O. Stamps upon one: you can keep the Letter for me: don't lose it. You perceive that I told him all the Woodbridge Gossip: some of which (as about Larken)2 he seems to have misunderstood. All last week Airy was with me: and was very well pleased sailing

August 1863 on the River, looking at Bawdsey Cliffs, Ramsholt Church, etc. I have lent my Ship to Mr. Spalding to go to Rotterdam in: a silly thing for him to ask, and for me to grant: seeing that he is always sick: that there is always Bother and risk about the Boat in those Canals: and that, with such a West Wind as now blows, he may not get back this week. I discovered all these reasons immediately after yielding. There is a very charming Paper about Holland in Thackeray's Roundabouts:3 of course I didn't read it till I had returned, though I had the Book by me. If ever I go abroad again it shall be (if you please) with you, to Berlin and Dresden: I will find means, and give the whole Charge of the Journey to you, reserving only a little Illhumour and Testiness of my own at railway and Hotel Nuisances; which you needn't mind, since it is not expended on you, but on my own inaptitude at Travel. Nothing but the Eyes of that unseen Madonna (like Beatrice's in Dante) will draw me out again: and Berlin, you say, is easily seen by the way. As I don't hear from your Sister, I think Mrs. Sparkman can't be dead, and therefore, having weathered it so long, will recover. I am sure I hope it will be so. There is now a large Party at Boulge: But I keep well out of the way. Kerrich has been over with his Son Walter to look for a house hereabout for Walter, who is made Adjutant to the Rifles. I hope he won't settle too near, for he is a great Bore. We keep expecting Rain, but have not had twenty Drops this month past, though we hear there has been plenty in the Midland Counties. Today the Glass has fallen: and I do think some Rain will follow. For the first time I see that long Pond at Farlingay all but dry. Ever yours E.FG. 1 H.

S. Drew, Curate at Pettistree. P. Larken, Rector of St. Mary's, Ufford. 3 "Notes of a Week's Holiday," first published in Comhill Magazine, Nov., 1860. 2 William

To George Crabbe (Fragment) [August 25,1863]

. . . written to your Sister to say that, in case such a Thing should happen, I only hoped it would make her rely on me the more.

August 1863 My Brother John is going to have the Rifles up to Boulge on Friday —whether to perform any Evolution except Dining I don't know. Anyhow he does well so far: but, as he must mix something of the Childish with all he does, I see Bills stuck up in the Shops that all the Public who wish to assist in the Park (!) may have Admittance by applying at the Lodge, etc. As if Boulge were Shrubland.1 Barlow is really a curious mortal. Some three weeks ago he wrote me two Letters to ask for my Boat to go to Lowestoft in: and, in pursuance of his second Letter, I was careful to bring her back, and have her quite ready for him by August 5—when a Note came from Mr. B. to say he was no Sailor, and was very busy with coming Harvest. As if both those Things were not known to him before he wrote to me. Ever yours E.FG. 1 Shrubland

Park, an estate near Ipswich.

To W. B. Donne Woodbridge Aug. 25, [1863] My dear Donne, I only had your Note and its Enclosure after returning from Bawdsey Ferry (the Mouth of our Harbour) after a stay there of ten days. Thither I went because my Hostess was unwell: the Maid sent home; and I had lent my Ship (like a Fool) to the as great Fool who bor­ rowed her for five days to go to Holland and return in; which five days spread into a fortnight, from a fierce West wind that blocked them up in the Maas as fast as Agamemnon was at Aulis. . . . I think you would like this Bawdsey (though the Name should hardly be mentioned to Ears polite): only about a dozen Fishermen's Houses, built where our River runs into the Sea over a foaming Bar: on one side of which is a good sand to Felixstowe and on the other an orange-coloured Crag Cliff towards Orford Haven: not a single re­ spectable House, or Inhabitant, or Lodger: no white Cravats; an Inn with scarce Table or Chair: and only Bread and Cheese to eat. I often lie there in my Boat: I wish you could come and do so. But now I have got my Boat back, I think we are in for wet weather: which we shall all be glad of. Capital harvests everywhere: and even the Green Crops much better off than I have seen them in much less

October 1863

dry Seasons. There have been great dews that have kept their Tails up. One night when I was becalmed going to Holland the sails reeked as after a three hours' Rain; and strange Fish with blue Fins came up and followed in such wake as the Boat made. They looked ghastly and haunted me in a Dream! What is all this about! Don't write any answer. As to the Portrait,1 I think I see it must be like: and a man I showed it to (Manby the gross Churchwarden) said, "That's a Fisher face sure enough"— though he only just remembered David in "Paul and Virginia"! I have enclosed and sent the Portrait to David's surviving Turtle2—poor dear old Mary Wilson—who has long ago designated her future Grave so close to his as to be contrary to the laws of the Cemetery. But her little Treason has been suffered to pass. I believe she is not at home just now, so I do not know what she will think of the photograph. But I suppose it won't be half handsome enough for her. Ever yours E.FG. 1 Of David Fisher, provincial actor-manager, who had died at Woodbridge in 1858. See letter to Donne, Nov. 19, 1862. 2 Turtle dove.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge October 4/63 My dear George,

I have to thank you for a Newspaper containing a Reprimand of my Friend John Allen. I had heard from him only a week before: he said nothing of all this: but sent me a Paper with a Report of his Speech against Pew-letting at some Clerical Meeting. I only returned yesterday from my Ship: in which I have been puddling about to Brightlingsea, Aldbro, etc. I have somehow got to like living in it very much: with all its Cold and Discomfort: indeed I have used it quite as much by way of Lodging at the Sea-side as by way of Sea-faring. I have not yet resolved to lay her up for the Winter: but am come back here to entertain Frederic Tennyson, who very kindly proposes a Visit to me. He now lives in Jersey: we have not met for some ten years. I suppose you sometimes see a Suffolk Paper: if you have seen the last, you have seen a long Account of my Brother's presenting a Silver

October 1863 Bugle to the Rifles. I can't say I read it all: and Today forward the Paper to your Sister. Laurence, the Painter, has been at Boulge: but I missed seeing him. He seems to get very little to do: and I don't think ever will make his Bread by Portraits. He now fancies (as he has done these twenty years) that he can do the thing: but I still think he only succeeds in what one may call a Sketch: whether in Crayon, or Oil: when he gets to put on Clothes, Background, etc., he is lost. Yet to hear him talk, no [one] can understand it better: nor do I mean that he doesn't under­ stand, so far as understanding the works of Others is concerned: but he fails, I think, in doing. If ever I get to London I shall go to 51 Wigmore St.,1 but I can't muster up Determination yet, though there is more than one Thing I want to go for. I was wishing for you in my Boat only yesterday, that you might have told me how or where to get a better Fireplace, or Stove; so as to burn Coke, not Coal, which spoils my Sails with Smoke: and also such a Stove as would warm both Cabin and Forecastle. Also how to con­ trive a Slide over that open Cabin-part, instead of the five separate clumsy Boards which now go over it, but let in Wet through their Intervals. They want me to have her (The ScandaU) coppered. What is your Intuition as to that? After Tennyson has been here (I don't know how long he will stay) I shall go for a short Visit to Gels'on, I dare say. One Day per­ haps I may run over to Merton. But that is a "Perhaps" indeed. I have been looking over some of my Greek Plays lately: which (oddly enough) I found great Appetite for by the Sea, not ever think­ ing to meddle with them here. Also Montaigne's Essays. Ever yours E.FG. 1 The

shop of Septimus Prowett, picture dealer.

To W. B. Donne Markethill, Woodbridge October 4/63 My dear Donne, Very rude of me not to have acknowledged your Tauchnitz before: but I have been almost living in my Ship ever since: and I supposed

October 1863 also that you were abroad in Norfolk. I pitied you undergoing those dreadful Oratorios: I never heard one that was not tiresome, and in part ludicrous. Such subjects are scarce fitted for Catgut. Even Magnus Handel—even Messiah. He (Handel) was a good old Pagan at heart, and (till he had to yield to the fashionable Piety of England) stuck to Opera, and Cantatas, such as Acis and Galatea, Milton's Penseroso, Alexander's Feast, etc., where he could revel and plunge and frolic without being tied down to Orthodoxy. And these are (to my mind) his really great works: these, and his Coronation Anthems, where Human Pomp is to be accompanied and illustrated. Now for Tauchnitz; somehow, that which you sent me is not the thing: I don't like it half so well as my little Tauchnitz stereotype Sophocles of 1827. The Euripides you send bears date 1846: and is cer­ tainly not so clear to my eyes as 1827. Never mind: don't trouble your­ self further: I shall light upon what I want one of these Days. It is wonderful how The Sea brought up this Appetite for Greek: it likes to be called θάλασσα and TOVTOS better than the wretched word "Sea," I am sure: and the Greeks (especially Aeschylus—after Homer) are full of Seafaring Sounds and Allusions. I think the Murmur of the Aegean (if that is their Sea) wrought itself into their Language. How is it the Islandic (which I read is our Mother Tongue) was not more Poluphloisboi-ic? Sophocles has almost shaken my Allegiance to Aeschylus. Oh, those two Oedipuses! but then that Agamemnon! Well: one shall be the Handel and t'other the Haydn; one the Michel Angelo, and t'other the Raffaelle, of Tragedy. As to the famous Prometheus,1 I think, as I always thought, it is somewhat over-rated for Sublimity; I can't see much in the far famed Conception of the Hero's Character: and I doubt [Portion missing] My three Books aboard have been these, Greeks, Montaigne, and "David Copperfield." What a pity that a few Pages of vulgar Taste, and Minor Theatre Effect, should mar the last: which might almost be made perfect by—a Pair of Scissors—my great Remedy, you know! I only came home here yesterday, having been living aboard my Boat these six weeks and more; in spite of a Cabin I can't stand upright in, and only ten feet deck to walk along up and down. And I am now back because Frederick Tennyson is to be with me any day. He wrote from his Mother's at Hampstead, and I suppose will be here early this week. I shall of course try and make him stop as long as I can; I have

October 1863 not seen him these ten years, I think.2 After he goes I shall probably run to Gelson for a while, as they say they wish to see me there. Let me hear about Mowbray's Marriage. He said it was to be some­ time this month, I think: I enclose a cheque with which you are to buy him what you think he will best like; no one can possibly be more welcome to such a little Token than he, or any one of your sons; who, besides being your sons, have always been so kind and thoughtful of me. By the bye, I ought to have thanked Charles too for the three Plays he sent me. They are not Aeschylus or Sophocles to be sure: yet they interest me as showing the strange bare skeleton of what plumps out into effective acting Drama. I wish you could send me Lover's "White Horse of the Peppers" and "Rory o'More"3 which I remember as very effective too, with some clever Songs. Here is an "effective" Farrago! Ever yours E.FG. 1

The trilogy by Aeschylus. married Edith Salmon in December. 3 Samuel Lover (1797-1868). The White Horse of the Peppers, a drama, 1838; Rory O'More, a burletta or comic opera, 1837, based on Lover's novel of the same title. 2 Mowbray

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethill: Woodbridge October 15/63 My dear Spring Rice, Frederick Tennyson has been staying three Days with me here: and he wants to have a Copy of that same Photograph of yourself which you sent me. I mean, one with hand in Trouser pocket, and Bookcase behind: very good indeed. Old Frederick asked me about this the last thing as he was going off, quite sad, by the Train: he had a Gallery, he says, of nearly all his old Friends: and he particularly wishes for this of you. If you haven't one to spare of this particular Photograph, per­ haps you have of some other: one of some sort let him have: and of the best possible: you can either send it to me: or direct to him F. Tennyson St. Helier's Jersey

November 1863 I have been living in my new Ship the greater part of the Summer: though as much in Port, as out of it: in fact, lodging there instead of in a hired house. The Ship does very well: is an excellent Sea-boat: and I compound for her not being a Clipper by her being stiff and dry. I got to Rotterdam, but didn't care for Holland, and came back after two Days. Indeed my travelling Days are over; and I like best to dodge about between Yarmouth and Dover, among my old Colliers and Smacks, and not far from my own Shores. Frederick looked to me handsomer, stronger, and younger, than ten years ago: but he complained of Nervousness, Sleeplessness, etc., and is now gone to some place near Bristol to be Mesmerised in his Eyes, which see black Spots, etc. Yours ever E.FG. Do let me hear of you—I mean, apart from the Portrait.

To Alfred Tennyson Market Hill: Woodbridge November 1,1863 My dear Alfred, I have heard a little about you from Donne, who was very much pleased with your Place, and your kindness in doing the honours of it to him. He reported well of you and yours. However, as I have hitherto written about twice a Year to hear about you from Head­ quarters—so will I do now. I dare say Donne told you the little there is to be told about me. And yet very likely I didn't happen to come on the Carpet at all. Well—then I can't tell you much more than you know of my way of Life from former Letters of mine for these last few years—indeed, no more: so I'll say no more. Only that Frederick came to me for three Days: which was very good of him. He really looked to me younger than when I saw him last—some ten years ago, I believe: though he complained of some Heart-palpitations, Nervousness etc. All which I dare say is true: but still he looked younger: and so handsome, that, had he been about to stay longer near London, and had my confidence been stronger in Laurence's power of making a pleasant Portrait of him, I should have

December 1863 got him to sit for me. But I suppose he would have sat grim and hard: and Laurence so fixed him on Canvass. I read in Yesterday's Notes and Queries how when, in Queen Anne's Time, a Peal of Bells was being cast for Woodhay Church in Hamp­ shire, an Old Lady, whose Effigy now stands in the Chancel, brought the Bell-founder a "Lap-full of old Silver" which she happened to have saved, to sweeten the Peal.1 'That's Old Fitz all over!"—thinks /f\ I hear your Boys are pretty Fellows—which Mrs. /j\ will think a very injurious version of what Donne told me. Make her my compli­ ments, and believe me ever yours E.FG. 1

Notes and Queries, Oct. 31, 1863, p. 349.

To Herman Biddell MarkethiU: Woodbridge Dec. 2/63 Dear Sir, Much as I should like a Game of Whist—anywhere and much at Playford—I don't think I must engage for it Some Day. I keep thinking I will get over to Playford—Some Day—also to Grundisburgh, where I have not yet been to call on my very quiet and inoffensive Niece in law, and a delightful Babe. But— 'Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow." (By the bye, I don't know if you like Shakespeare.) Haydn is a puzzle. So close on Genius, yet so absolutely missing it, so far as Production is concerned. He had enough Genius to feel, think, and write about Things. I think some Passages in his Book1 truly eloquent: and that about the Duke shews he could paint a good Portrait—in Words. Come and see me whenever you like;—Oysters and Ale, oh! Yours truly E.FG. 1 Haydn's

Biographical Sketches, 1776.

January 1864

To Anne Thackeray1 Markethill: Woodbridge Jan. 1/64 Dear Annie Thackeray,

1 hope it won't distress or annoy you if I write a very few lines to say that I don't forget you or him;2 never have forgot, though my Way of Life has kept me apart. And, though I don't wish you to write now, I wish you wouldn't wholly forget me neither, but one Day let me know how and where you are: and whether I can be of any Service to you. This is enough now—only you and your Sister3 believe me yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald 1Anne Isabella (1837-1919), Thackeray's eldest daughter, who also became a novelist. Her first work, The Story of Elizabeth, had been published in 1863. Author of a wide variety of miscellaneous works, she is chiefly remembered for the novels, The Village on the Cliff (1867) and Old Kensington (1873). In 1877 she married her cousin Richmond (later Sir Richmond) Ritchie. EFG corresponded with her occasionally for the remainder of his life. 2 Thackeray had died in the early morning hours of December 24. 3Harriet Marion (1840-75), who married Leslie Stephen in 1887.

To W. B. Donne MarkethiU: Woodbridge Jan. 3/64 My dear Donne,

Thank you for your very kind Letter, and take back in full all Good Wishes for this same / 64. It is very good of you (but only as usual) to offer all Entertainment, etc. However, I am better: whether owing to Mr. Gissing's1 Pills and Draughts; or to giving up Alcohol in its many Shapes; or to tearing about out of doors till knocked up: or to the change of Weather; or all these Things together. So here I am again a Candidate for /64, and may perhaps, smoke a Cigar and drink some Dilution of Alc-h-1 this very night with Manby, should he look in after Evening Church: whither he goes punctually as Churchwarden as well as Christian. He

January 1864 is very proud of a Porch he has had re-fronted at the expense of re­ fractory Dissenters. I wrote to Charles about Thackeray. I have been reading his Books, as well as Letters, and can scarce believe the Great Spirit is quite quenched. Now I wish he were alive that I might write and tell him how the Newcomes were illuminating my long Evenings. But, if he were alive, I don't think he'd care to be told so by me now; I think he had ceased to remember me; and I'm sure I can't wonder, nor (least of all) blame him. Last night I wrote to Mrs. Kemble (taking the Hampshire Address you gave me) and told her how sincerely well I liked her Play.2 As to her Stage Criticism, perhaps I don't understand her Definitions; I should have thought that "intuitive" and "intellectual" would have served well enough to distinguish the Styles [Remainder of letter missing] 1

John Gissing, Woodbridge surgeon. An English Tragedy written in 1838; recently published in her volume, Plays, with translations of Schiller's Maria Stuart and Dumas' Mademoiselle de Belle Isle. The remarks about criticism which follow were prompted by an essay, "On the Stage," in the Cornhill Magazine, December, 1863, pp. 733-37, in which Fanny distinguishes between the "dramatic" and "theatric" as component elements of the art of acting. The essay serves as the introduction to Fanny's Notes upon Some oj Shakespeare's Flays, 1882. 2

To Samuel Laurence Markethill: Woodbridge Jan. 7/64 Dear Laurence, . . . I want to know about your two Portraits of Thackeray: the first one (which I think Smith and Elder have) I know by the Print:1 I want to know about one you last did (some two years ago?)2 whether you think it as good and characteristic: and also who has it. Frederic Tennyson sent me a Photograph of W.M.T., old, white, massive, and melancholy, sitting in his Library.3 I am surprized almost to find how much I am thinking of him: so little as I had seen him for the last ten years; not once for the last five. I had been told—by you, for one—that he was spoiled. I am glad therefore that I have scarce seen him since he was "old Thackeray." I keep reading his Newcomes of nights, and as it were hear him saying

January 1864

so much in it; and it seems to me as if he might be coming up my Stairs, and about to come (singing) into my Room, as in old Charlotte Street, etc., thirty years ago. 1 See Thackeray Biographical Edition, vol. VI, frontispiece. Smith and Elder were Thackeray's publishers. 2 A crayon portrait of Thackeray, in profile, reading a newspaper, commissioned by Frederick Pollock's father in 1862. A copy is in the National Portrait Gallery. 3 Photograph of a painting by Ε. M. Ward, 1854.

To George Crabbe Markethill: Woodbridge Jan. 12/64 My dear George,

I shall take your Advice about the Wine, and send some of Kettle's to DeSoyres and your Sisters. Let me see—have we exchanged a word about Thackeray since his Death? I am quite surprised to see how I sit moping about him: to be sure, I keep reading his Books. Oh, the Newcomes are fine! And now I have got hold of Pendennis, and seem to like that much more than when I first read it. I keep hearing him say so much of it; and really think I shall hear his Step up the Stairs to this Lodging as in old Charlotte St. thirty years ago. Really, a great Figure has sunk under Earth. There is already a little Memoir published of him: by a Mr. Hannay,1 who annotated his Humourists for him, and subsequently imitated him in Lectures. Tonight I send for this Pamphlet. Pray read the enclosed Piece of Fine English, and return it to me. You must get a sight of Alford's little Book of "Queen's English"2 pub­ lished by Macmillan; indeed if you choose to order it from your Book­ seller I will make you a Present of it. It is very entertaining: but pedan­ tic; and only shows that every Rule has been violated by the best Writers. One can't reduce to order such a compound as English. I am pretty well: last night took some Drops of Camphor Spirit which I really think have staved off a Cold. Ever yours E.FG. 1

James Hannay, A Brief Memoir of the late Mr. Thackeray, Edinburgh, 1864. The Queen's English, "Stray Notes on Speaking and Spelling," 1863, a defense of and plea for traditional usage by Dean Henry Alford. By 1866, 10,000 copies had been printed. 2

January 1864

To Frederick Spalding Markethill Saturday [January IS, 1864] My dear Sir, There is ugly looking weather—Snow in the Wind, I think. So I write a line to beg you not to think of going to Norwich on account of this Picture, unless you have other calls that way. As we have got thus far, I would give £30 for the Crome, though I may never much care for it; but, as it will require cleaning, new Lining, and Frame-gilding, no doubt £25 would be better. But either or all of this you could do by Letter telling Samuel what must be done by us to the Picture to make it presentable. After all, as he fixed his Ultimatum at £35, he might not even get down to £30; and I would not give more than that; and that I would give. If you go to see after this, let me pay your Carriage. Yours truly E.FG. which reminds me that you subscribe yourself "Yours respectfully" which I won't have—"Truly" "sincerely" "faithfully"—but not the other.

To W. H. Thompson MarkethiU: Woodbridge Jan. 23/64 My dear Thompson, You see I return with your other troubles of Term time. Only when you have ten spare minutes let me know how you are, etc. Some weeks ago R. Groome was here and told me he had seen you at Cambridge: complaining of your Ancles, he said. I have not been well for the last three months: a hot, heavy head. But now one expects to get shaky. I have almost wondered at myself how much occupied I have been thinking of Thackeray; so little as I had seen of him for the last ten years, and my Interest in him a little gone from hearing he had become somewhat spoiled: which also some of his later writings hinted to me of themselves. But his Letters, and former Works, bring me back the old Thackeray. You have seen Laurence's last of him? (belonging to

January 1864 Baron Pollock) or the Photograph from it? So good, I think, that I am getting Laurence to paint me a Sketch in oil from the original; but I don't know if that's good Logic. I want to hear how the two Girls are left provided for: I don't even know if the Wife survives1 to share the Property with them (I hear there was no Will executed) and it remains to be seen if his Property in House, Copyright, etc., is encumbered. Spedding told me thus far of the matter. I had never read Pendennis and the Newcomes since their first ap­ pearance till this last month. They are wonderful; Fielding's seems to me coarse work in comparison. I have indeed been thinking of little this last month but of these Books and their Author. Of his Letters to me I have only kept some Dozen, just to mark the different Epochs of our Acquaintance. Well—do let me hear how you are one of these Days, that's a good Fellow. And always believe me yours E.FG. I suppose you and I first met about the Year /29, in the Venerable Allen's Room. By the by, your Bishop is dead2—he whom we thought long to reign over us (Grammar for Alford; whose Book is pleasant but pedantic?) 1 Thackeray's 2 Thomas

widow lived until 1893. Turton, Bishop of Ely, had died January 7.

To George Crabbe Markeihill: Woodbridge Jan. 23/64 Dear George, Mr. Kettle so much recommended the 42s. Sherry, because of its Body, and Mr. Manby also seemed to have an Intuition that way, that I have sent that Sherry to your Sisters. The truth is, I want them to drink it themselves when they want a little Lift; and therefore I chose a Wine that has some Body. Your Sister wrote of rarely drinking wine but when a Friend came in; now, do you (as I have more than hinted) ask her and Mary to keep it rather for themselves; else that Lawyer will have it all. Laurence sent me so fine a Photograph of his last Drawing of Thackeray (for Baron Pollock) that I have commissioned him to try and paint me a Sketch of it, having before him the beautiful Sketch

January 1864 of Dupont by Gainsbro1 that was in the Great Exhibition. None of Laurence's black Glazings, etc., but simply sketched in with Brown, and some fresh face-colour over; red and white; and better flat so, than what he calls round at the expense of freshness. He is also to do me a Sketch of this very Gainsbro, doing which will improve him. I am sup­ posing his friend Richmond,2 to whom the Gainsbro belongs, will lend it to be copied, as he did before; nay, I have the former Copy in my room now; delightful, in spite of being rather brown in the flesh: which Laurence thinks he can amend. I had long wished to give him a little Commission; but I couldn't like his late Pictures, and Chalk (large as Life) scarcely satisfies me. I have bought a Crome from Norwich; which is very good in its way; but I don't care about it; and indeed only bought it to see what we could make of it with a little warm water: which has restored it almost to what it originally was. I shall either sell or change it one of these Days. The little Moonlight Crome which I had bought when I last saw you is quite a Failure: not old Crome at all, as I might have seen if I had only cared to look at the Back, where his Son's name is very legibly written. However, I thought it old Crome in my short view of it; so I must give up my Connoisseurship. There has been a Sale at some old Hall near Scole which had not been disturbed (Mason3 of Ipswich says) for these two hundred Years! There were some Pictures, which I should have gone to look at had I been apprised of the Sale. Mason says all went very high; not so much from London Dealers, as from the neighbouring Gentry. Now I have written you a long Letter of such Gossip. You didn't answer my last, when perhaps [there] was nothing to answer; I hope you haven't been unwell. This close, wet weather has muddled my head a little again. I wish you could find an excuse for coming over here; but I suppose you can't. My Brother John has broken his wrist (left) by falling down at Manchester; however he is doing very well, I hear. Did I tell you that Mrs. Faiers put out her Knee some five weeks ago? She still keeps her Bed (Mr. Jones very kind to her) but continues to do as well as can be expected at her Age. I have got a dozen of this Sherry from London to try: why won't you come and help me? Yours always E.FG.

January 1864 I hear Thackeray died with a Will drawn up, but not executed. I don't know if his Wife be alive to share with the Girls. His House and Copyrights must be worth a good deal if unencumbered. 1 Portrait of Gainsborough Dupont (1754P-97), by Thomas Gainsborough, his uncle. Dupont, who studied under Gainsborough, completed his uncle's unfinished pictures. 2 Laurence's friend, George Richmond, R.A. 3 William Mason, furniture and antique dealer.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge Jan. 31/64 My dear Cowell, I have only Today got your Letter: have been walking out by my­ self in the Seckford Almshouse Garden till 9 P.M. in a sharp Frost— with Orion stalking over the South before me (do you have him in India? I forget) have come in—drunk a Glass of Porter; and am minded to answer you before I get to Bed. Perhaps the Porter will leave me stranded, however, before I get to the End of my Letter. Before this reaches you—probably before I write it—you will have heard of Thackeray's sudden Death. It was told me as I was walking alone in those same Seckford Gardens on Christmas-day Night; by a Corn-merchant—one George Manby (do you remember him?) who came on purpose to tell me—and to wish me in other respects a Happy Christmas. I have thought little else than of W.M.T. ever since—what with reading over his Books, and the few Letters I had kept of his; and thinking over our five and thirty years' Acquaintance as I sit alone by my Fire these long Nights. I had seen very little of him for these last ten years; nothing for the last five; he did not care to write; and people told me he was become a little spoiled: by London praise, and some consequent Egotism. But he was a very fine Fellow. His Books are wonderful: Pendennis; Vanity Fair; and the Newcomes; to which compared Fielding's seems to me coarse work. I don't know yet how his two Daughters are left provided for; the Papers say very well. He had built and furnished a fine House at 7 or 8000 £, cost; which is as good a Property for them to let or sell as any other, I suppose; and the Copyright of his Books must also be a good Property: always sup­ posing he had not encumbered all these by anticipation.

January 1864 I was not at all well myself for three months; but either the Doctor's Stuff, or the sharp clear weather, or both, have set me up pretty much as I was before. I have nothing to tell, as usual, of People or Places; for I have scarce stirred from this Place since my little Ship was laid up in the middle of October. Donne writes sometimes; I see an article of his about the Antonines1 advertised in the present Edinburgh; but that you know is out of my Line. His second son, Mowbray, is lately mar­ ried to a Daughter (I don't know which) of Mrs. Salmon's; widow of a former Rector here,2 whom your Elizabeth will remember all about, I dare say. This time ten years I was lodging at Oxford, reading Persian with you. I doubt I shall never do so again; I am too lazy to turn Diction­ aries over now; and indeed had some while ceased to expect much to turn up from them. You are quite right, as a Scholar, to work out the Mine; but you admit that nothing is likely to come out of such Value as from the Greek, Latin, and English, which we have ready to our hands. Did I tell you how pleased I had been with Sophocles and Aeschylus in my Boat this Summer? I dare say you are quite right about my "Birds":3 indeed I think I had always told you that my Version was of no public use; I only wanted a few Copies for private use; and I wanted you to add a short Account, and a few Notes; in which I am shy of trusting my own Irish Accuracy. But you have plenty of better work, and this is quite as well left. Miss Ingelow's second volume isn't half so good as her first, to my thinking; more ambitious, with a twang of Tennyson. I can't add to the List you have sent of Elizabeth's Poems. Maria C[harlesworth] was staying with my Brother at Boulge in the Autumn, and sent a very kind message to me; I now am sorry I did not see her; but I keep out of the way of the Company at Boulge, though I am glad to see my Brother here. So I wish I had asked her to take the Trouble to come and see me in my Den. Alas! if ever you do come back, you will have to come and see me; for I really go no­ where now. Frederic Tennyson came to me for a few Days, and talked of you two: he was looking very well; and was grand and kind as be­ fore. I hear little of Alfred. Spedding's Bacon seems to hang fire; they say he is disheartened at the little Interest, and less Conviction, that his two first volumes carried; Thompson told me they had only con­ vinced him the other way; and that Ellis4 had long given up Bacon's Defence before he died.

February 1864 Now my sheet is filled on the strength of my one Glass of Porter— all at a heat. So Good Bye: ever yours E.FG. 1 A review by Donne of "The Flavian Caesars and the Antonines," volume VII of Charles Merivale's History of the Romans under the Empire, Edinburgh Re­ view, January, 18Θ4, pp. 26-61. 2 Thomas W. Salmon, Perpetual Curate at Woodbridge, 1831-38. 3 The Bird Parliament. 4 Robert Ellis, one of Spedding's original collaborators in the work on Bacon.

To W. F. PoUock Markethill: Woodbridge Febr. 7/64 My dear Pollock, Can you tell me anything authentic as to how Thackeray's Girls are left provided for? Spedding wrote me there was no Will executed; he, as well as I, concluded that the House and Copyrights must be worth a good deal, if not encumbered. I am told however that the News­ papers speak of £.300 a year for each of the Girls. Pray can you tell me by this time how it is? You can at any rate tell me how you are—and Mrs. Pollock; and how your Olive branches flourish. Frederick Tennyson came here for a few Days, and looked rather younger than eight years ago, though he complained of Nerves, Sleeplessness, etc. Thompson writes from Cambridge that he has some Rheumatism in one Shoulder: weakness in one Ancle. I was not at all well for two or three months after Autumn. Are you younger or older? What of Spedding's Bacon? I hear nothing of it. A Summons is sent me for £,2.12.6 for Kemble's Horae Ferales; which I had wholly for­ got—nay, have forgotten even what "ferales" means. George Crabbe, who was with me when this Notice was served, was in the same plight as to Scholarship. I have been quite immersed in old Thackeray's Books since his Death; I had not read them since they came out first in Numbers; and they are certainly wonderful to me. I mean, Vanity Fair, Pendennis, Newcomes. Esmond, I haven't got, but must get. His Round­ abouts were, many of them, delightful to me always; some of them

February 1864 discovered (I think) that he was become, as I was told, rather spoiled for anything but Praise. The Photograph from Laurence's last Drawing (your Father's) is capital, surely. I like it better than the Print by Holl,1 though that so good. Please to remember me kindly to Mrs. Pollock, and believe me yours very truly Edward FitzGerald 1An

engraving, by Francis Holl (1815-84), of Laurence's 1853 chalk portrait.

To Stephen Spring Rice MarkethiU: Woodbridge February 8/64 My dear Spring Rice, I heard of you some Days ago from Augusta Frere, who was writing to me about a poor Woman at Aldbro. But do let me hear of you from yourself. You must have been thinking very much, as I have, about Thackeray; I have indeed spent many of these long Winter nights in reading V[anity] Fair, Newcomes and Pendennis; the two last of which I had not read since they came out in No8. Have you seen the Photograph from Laurence's last Drawing of him? Capital, I think; better to me than that done some twelve years ago (you know the Print)—the Man himself reading in the Room with one. Laurence is to paint me a Sketch from the original; having before him a Sketch of Gainsboro's, to keep him from his infernal Theories of Glazing, etc., which I think muddle all when he tries his best to finish. I can't make out yet what WMT has left for his Daughters; the Newspapers talk of £300 a year each; but the Newspapers are not invariably to be depended on. The New House, and Copyrights will of course be of considerable Value, if not encumbered. Now let me hear of you; remember me to your Lady: and believe me ever and always Yours E.FG.

February 1864

To Mowbray Donne Markethill: Woodbridge Febr. 29 (!)64 My dear Mowbray, I do believe you would almost think it humbug if I were to tell you how much I feel your kindness in remembering, and writing to me. You do all of you come of a Good Stock, that's certain. I have been thinking of your Father for two or three Days past; and should have written to him but that in that case he must answer; and I think the less pen-work he has the better. His last note said he was not very well; but I judge by your Letter he is not much out of sorts. Do keep him from work (head-work) as much as you can; you may apprentice him to any Handy-craft save of the Pen. Only (by the bye) do you, or he, tell me one Day what is a good Tacitus for an Ignoramus. I mean with short, easy, and perhaps, English Notes; also (it being for an Elderly Ignoramus) with good Type. When I get to my Ship again I reckon on Tacitus for a Ship mate; he will last me a long while. Having got to the end of Loder's Stock of Mudie, I have been quite happy again with some of Scott's Novels, and Boswell's Johnson; both as fresh as Dew. It is a great comfort to be able to return to such Books. I have also read Thackeray's Pendennis and Newcomes again— wonderful too—but not so comfortable. I think some of the Panegyrics in the Papers and Reviews throw some light on what I had been told of his later years; he must have got surrounded with a set of Praiseplasterers, so as scarce to be able to breathe without it. Twenty years ago he used to let out against the Authors be-praising one another. But he remains something of a Great Man after all. I feel how he, Scott, and Johnson, would have cogged well together. Laurence is to paint me a Head of him; but he is so dilatory, I don't know when he'll do it. I only have begged of him to paint—not his best—but his worst and quickest; and then I shall stand more chance of being pleased. Your Father wrote to me of Miss Bateman1 as a promising Actress. I like better to read of Garrick than to see and hear others at the cost of being screwed into a hot Theatre. What do you think of Faust?2 I have an instinct it's dull; I doubt if so good as the Mozart and Rossini always humming in my head. The second Volume of Mendelssohn's

March 1864 Letters3 is a truly charming Book; though I can t set him up with his Elders, as some do. Now, my dear Mowbray, if a quick Return is any Proof of a well laid-out Capital, you see your yesterday's kind Letter has not missed. Make my Compliments to Mrs. M; perhaps it may please her if I say sincerely that I think she is a lucky Woman, as much as if I were to say you were a lucky man—which further Acquaintance would, I dare say, enable me to say as sincerely. Yours truly E.FG. 1

Kate Josephine Bateman, actress of American birth, played the title role in Leah 210 times in 1863-64 at the Adelphi, London. 2 Gounod's Faust was produced in English at Her Majesty's Theater, January 23, 1864. Libretto by H. F. Chorley. 3 Mendelssohn's Letters from 1833-47, translated by Grace, Lady Wallace, 1863.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge March 20, [1864] Dear George,

I went to London to see Thackeray's House before the Auction cleared all off. To the Auction I did not go. I was much pleased at the Kensington Museum; Crome's Picture really seemed to me to cut over every thing there. Then I went to several Dealers, and two Picture Sales; but have come away with two Pictures I don't want, having missed one which I did much want. This was a Portrait of Pope, in so neglected and tattered a Condition I thought to be sure I should buy it for £,10 at the End of a Sale. But when some People had bid £3 or £4, a voice called out £10; then £20—£30—£40—and so would have gone on, I suppose to any amount, for it was the great Farrer. The Portrait was, I was sure, done from the Man: and I had planned so nicely how I was to cut it down and make oval! I spoke to Farrer, who had bought my Father's Lady Castlemaine (Lely). He said it was now at Narboro;1 we will go see it one day, eh? At this last Sale was a great tawdry LeIy sold for £200; I said to Farrer I could not believe it to be Lely: and he said No, it was by Lely's Pupil, Mrs. Beale,2 who did much for him. Well—I went to my dear Crystal Palace; was all day upon my Legs

April 1864 in the Streets, and half the night too; saw countless Silver Teapots!— just the thing! and ended by buying a Plated Service! Oh, how base! You would have kept me from such Cowardice—as would the poor Captain,3 whom I kept thinking of as I went about; also, much of WMT. Then I bought some perfectly useless Things at the Baker Street Bazaar; in short, have frittered away in Things I don't care for what might have bought something I should have cared for. Ass! Bence Jones4 gave me some Prescription to cool my head of Nights; I still wake up in a Bother. He talked to me a good deal of WMT, having known him of late years. He thought he had a foible for Great Folks; I wonder if this was really so! That Thackeray should become one of his own Snobs. I hear from your Sister she will like me to go there in a few weeks; as I certainly shall. Next week I shall propose to go to Gels'on; but I can't think Kerrich will much relish me for the future. I am told he is getting depressed (Pheasants being over) and will wear out his Daughter Mary's Life, as he did his Wife's, in waiting on him; and all without the slightest Gratitude, which he cannot feel, always sup­ posing he confers the Benefit. Write to me. Ever Yours E.FG. 1

Narborough Hall, near SwafEham, Norfolk. Beale (1632-97), who copied many of Lely's pictures. 3 W. K. Browne. 4 Henry Bence Jones, London physician. 2 Mary

To George Crabbe Woodbridge April 23, [1864] Dear George, I returned yesterday from a very pleasant Week's Visit to Bradford, where I was really happy to see your Sisters seemingly so comfortable on their modest means; so useful, and so respected. I liked their house very much, and wish I could find just such a one here; its only fault, I thought, was being in the way of Smoke. The Day before I left we drove to Corsham:1 where are Pictures well worth seeing; and the Housekeeper is glad to show them; when the Great Folks are not at home.

April 1864 On passing through London I saw the Bishop of Ely's Pictures at Christie's; for the most part rubbish; but some good Cromes; a capital Constable, and a Sir Joshua so delightful that I left a Commission for 100 Guineas to buy it, though I almost knew it would go for twice as much at least. It went for £165; and was worth it as "investment"— but I don't want that, and hardly feel justified in spending so much on a Picture. When I got here, I found that Laurence had sent me his oil Copy of his last Chalk of Thackeray. Though no miracle of Painting, it is much better to me than his finished things: and absolutely startled me when the Lid of the Box came off: it was as the Lid of a CofiBn removing. The Man is now in the Room before me. I have bought a Silver Teapot; and a Minton Centrepiece which is too big for my Table. One Day you will see all this; I suppose not, any­ how, unless you should run over from Beccles when you are with your Aunt.2 Let me hear of your Movements: I shall certainly go over to you some time during the Youth of the Oaks. Yours E.FG. 1 Corsham 2 Anna

Court, seat of Frederick Henry Paul, second Baron Methuen. Maria Crowfoot Crabbe, widow of Crabbe's uncle John.

To Samuel Laurence Markethill: Woodbridge April 23/64 Dear Laurence, I only got home last Night, from Wiltshire, where I had been to see Miss Crabbe, daughter of the old Vicar whom you remember. I found your two Letters: and then your Box. When I had unscrewed the last Screw, it was as if a Coffin's Lid were raised; there was the Dead Man. I took him up to my Bedroom; and when morning came, he was there —reading; alive, and yet dead.1 I am perfectly satisfied with it on the whole; indeed, could only have suggested a very, very, slight altera­ tion, if a n y . . . . As I passed through London, I saw that wonderful Collection of Rubbish, the late Bishop of Ely's Pictures; but I fell desperately in Love with a Sir Joshua, a young Lady in white with a blue Sash, and a sweet blue Sky over her sweet, noble, Head; far above Gainsboro' in

April 1864 its Air and Expression. I see in the Papers that it went for £165; which, if I thought well to give so much for any Picture, I could almost have given, by some means, for such a delightful Work. 1 See

letter to Laurence, Jan. 7.

To Mrs. Alfred Tennyson Markethill: Woodbridge April 24/64 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, I must thank you for the Engraving from Watts' Portrait1 of your Husband; which Laurence sent me down some Days ago. I cant say I think it very like what I remember; but (the fault is mine) I have scarce seen the original Man for ten Years. For ten years, come June, it will be since I was with you in the Isle of Wight. I hope Laurence will succeed in the Portrait he is about; then you must have a good Photograph made from it, such as was done from Laurence's last Thackeray. I went up to London on purpose to see Thackeray's House the Day before the Auction there. Has this been a Winter of Sickness and Death in your Parts as well as hereabout? I have just lost a Sister by Apoplexy2—and I see Mourn­ ing, and hear Bells tolling, wherever I go. I haven't been at all well myself all Winter—but we shall see what the Summer, and my little Ship, will do for me. She is now out of her Winter Mud, and being painted etc. But I don't take to her so long as the Verdure on Shore is fresh painted too. Tell Alfred I wish he would be good enough to write me his Name half a dozen times on a Paper, and send it to me. It is not often now that I am asked for Autographs; I see so few People, and always set my Face against helping to supply Young Ladies' Albums with such things. But once in a while I am asked by a rational Creature; as I was the other Day; and I think if Alfred will do for me what I ask, I shall scarce have to trouble him again. Anyhow, give him my old Love; and believe me Yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald 1 The 2

1859 portrait by G. F. Watts. Isabella Vignati.

April 1864

To Samuel Laurence (Fragment) MarkethiU y Woodbridge April 27/64 Dear Laurence,

. . . I will send back the Gainsboro' copy1 at once; I think the Orig­ inal must be one of the happiest of the Painter's; while he had Vandyke in his Eye, with whom he was to go to Heaven.2 I will not argue how far he was superior to Reynolds in Colour; but in the Air of Dignity and Gentility (in the better sense) he was surely inferior; it must be so, from the Difference of Character in the two men. Madame D'Arblay (Miss Burney) relates how one day when she was dining with Sir Joshua at Richmond, she chanced to see him looking at her in a peculiar way; she said to him, "I know what you are thinking about." "Ay," he said, "you may come and sit to me now whenever you please." They had often met; but he at last caught the phase of her which was best; but I don't think it ever went to Canvas. I don't think Gainsboro' could have painted the lovely portrait at the Bishop of Ely's, slight as it was; Sir Joshua was by much the finer Gentleman; indeed Gainsboro' was a scamp. 1 Of

Gainsborough Dupont. Gainsborough, when dying, whispered to Reynolds, with whom he had been reconciled, "We are all going to heaven, and Vandyke is of the party." 2

To E. B. Cowell MarkethiU: Woodbridge May 25/64 My dear Cowell,

It was indeed a Surprize to find a Letter of yours dated from Ipswich.1 Well, you have come at a good time of the Year so far as EngKsh Nature is concern d; I suppose you must be out in it, and away from Sanskrit, as much as you can. Ah. I am afraid you will find me a torpid and incurious Man com­ pared to what you left me; and then I was fast wearing that way, you know. Since then I have been still more diligently cultivating (as Spedding said) the Stupid part of my Nature; seeing none of the

June 1864 Wise People, and only reading Memoirs, Travels, etc., just one grade above Novels. As I write these last words a Letter from F. Tennyson is put into my hands; but first I must dine: and then read it—all which is done, and so now I will finish this Note under the Spur of a few Glasses of Sherry. In a week, or ten Days, I shall be embarking on my little Ship; you must come one Day and see our River in her—you and Elizabeth— though my Boat does not shine in a River way. You know I go no­ where; think of not having seen old Spedding for five years! But you will let me hear of you before long, I dare say; and Time will clear up what it has to unfold. Ever yours, E.FG. Pray remember me very kindly to your Mother, and such of your Fam­ ily as I know. I was in Ipswich (with the Chorus)2 the Day your Note was written. 1 Impaired health had compelled Cowell to take a 15-month furlough from his duties in India. 2 James Read, the Ipswich bookseller.

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethilh Woodbridge June 2/64 My dear Spring Rice, You are often in my mind. I heard about you from Thompson some while ago; I also saw the Death of Mrs. Frere1 in our Ipswich paper— with whom among many nobler and better things, the Classic Song is gone, so far as I, and I really believe the rising Generation, are con­ cerned. She knew how to temper down all to the Air of a private room, though she could have flourished, gasped, and made faces, as is now the Fashion off the Stage as well as on it. I wish I had a Por­ trait of her fine Classic Head too; of which some Likeness is to be found, as old Professor Smythe2 used to say, in that finest of all Heads (to my thinking) Raffaelle's St. Cecelia. It is now just ten years since I last saw Mrs. Frere: at Dungate, where I staid some days after leaving Tennyson at Freshwater—in June. Thompson wrote me you were better: let me hear from yourself this

June 1864 is so. I had a delightful wise Letter from Old Spedding a short while ago. No one yet tells me exactly how Thackeray's Daughters are pro­ vided for. I have just come from our River-side, where my Ship lies having her Bottom scrubbed, like a good Child on a Saturday Night. On Saturday comes oif a great Sailing Match of Yachts from the Nore to Harwich:3 I am too old and quiet to encounter such things: so I lend my Boat to younger and more sanguine Folks for the purpose. I have not been well all winter; am not wholly so now; but the time of Life is come to look out for Squalls with the most of us. Yesterday I bought a Piece of Land (only some six Acres) and a rotten Farmhouse;4 none of which I want; but I suppose that, now I have done so, I am more likely to find something I do want: if I can answer for what that is. Horace Walpole (not reckoned a very wise man) counts it among his Felicities that he always knew what he wanted; never deviated; and always got it sooner or later. One sees that he reached his Summum Bonum, I think, in all ways, and might be called Blest even in his Death. Remember me kindly to "The Wife" and believe me ever yours E.FG. 1 Spring

Rice's mother-in-law who died May 4. Smyth (1765-1849), Regius Professor of Modern History at Cam­ bridge, 1807-49. EFG probably came to know him as a member of Camus, the University musical society, for Smyth was very active in the musical life of the University. Both were frequent guests at Mrs. Frere's musical evenings at Down­ ing College. 3 Twenty-seven boats—schooners, yawls, and cutters—competed in the race held by the Royal Thames Yacht Club, June 4, 1864, and won by the Volante, a cutter. The start was at the mouth of the Thames estuary. The Scandal, no doubt, was among the spectator craft at Harwich, five miles below the Deben's mouth. 4Thus ended EFG's long search for a house of his own. From time to time his Woodbridge lawyer, George Moor, had suggested available dwellings, all of which had been rejected. "At last," wrote Moor, "he said he had made up his mind; and, as he had not been able to find anything that did suit him, he had fully decided to buy one that did not suit." (Trinity College MS) He converted the "farmhouse," actually a small cottage in Pytches Road on the northern border of Woodbridge, into roomy and attractive Little Grange; but did not occupy it until 1874. The "chateau," as he sometimes called it, was his home for the last nine years of his life. 2William

June 1864

To George Crabbe Geldestone June 5/64 Dear George, I came here yesterday afternoon, just after receiving your Letter. I shall probably be here for a few Days, so as it will make it too late to go to you: who, I hope, will be in plight to come to Beccles by Tuesday week, as your Letter proposes. I am rather vexed that your Family Property is not to sell better; though what it is to fetch may be a fair Price, for anything I know. Now for my little Buyings after your Sellings. Mrs. Bland's Grange and its forty-eight Acres went for £.4700—to a Brother of Bendall the Ironmonger;1 Barlow's Brother (the Lawyer) not having courage to go further. People tell me the Price is high; but if a Gentleman wants to buy a Place to live in, what Folly to stop at Market value. So he lost Hasketon to Mr. Groom; and now a Tradesman has bought this other pretty place over his head. Well—now for me. I bid G. Moor bid £,500 for the little Farm [house] with its four Acres behind it; and £200 for a two Acre meadow before it; and got the first for £510 (which People think it worth) and the second for £220, which People think dear. There is a good deal of Copyhold on both; and I don't know that I want either; but having talked so long of buying something, I bought these which I believe I shall be able to sell with scarce a Loss in case something else offers. I have not yet thought what to do with the Land; whether to add a room or two to the Farmhouse (a rotten Affair) or sell some of the Land behind it for Building, which People now begin to talk of in prospect of the New School. Mrs. Browne2 wants me to release a little Lot of Ground which she has given to build a School on at Goldington: which was bought for £350, and which was thrown in with some others to help the House and its thirty-six acres to cover the £6500 I advanced. My Lawyer has looked at the Mortgage Deeds, and heard from her Lawyer that, if I release this one Lot, the value of the Remaining Property will be £8,000; and he is willing to agree. Mr. Doughty, G. Moor, and Manby, to whom I spoke, think otherwise; and that Mrs. B. should throw in some other Property, or pay off a Bit of the Mortgage. I am shabby enough to agree with them: but have left to my Lawyer to consider it. Why should not Mrs. B. (who is, I conclude, well off) pay off the

June 1864 odd £500, which would cover the Lot she wants released, and bring the remaining Property into more sufficient proportion with the Ad­ vance upon it? I was quite willing she should give what Ground was wanted for a School by showing her Title to it; but she and her Law­ yer don't wish it to be known that it is mortgaged; which would be absurd, I think, even if possible. For who does not know in one's Neighborhood if one's Property is mortgaged? The late Clergyman, Monkhouse, spoke to me of it at WB's Death; and he (Monkhouse) was one who did not keep his Neighbours' AfiFairs to himself. I should have liked to ask your Opinion on this; and it is not too late for me to have it now. I rather think you would have been of my Lawyer's Mind. My Ship and Crew are all Equipped; and on Friday took Mr. Manby and some one else to see a Great Yacht Race from the Thames to Harwich. I came away before they returned, and was glad to escape the whole Concern. As usual, I feel in no hurry to begin again: but, once begun, perhaps shall be in no hurry to leave off. When you get to Beccles, I shall sail round to Lowestoft, and so see you. No weather so little agreeable to me for Sea-faring as hot Sun and East Wind; today, however, the Wind is got to South, with even a Touch of West in it, I think. These are very little, and very selfish little, Things to write you about; but you may not be bored with them. All are pretty well here; Kerrich as he has been now for near two years; and—what is odd to me—wishing me to be here (the girls tell me) in spite of our Dis­ sension. But, in truth, Opposition does not touch him in such matters: and so he does not resent it. Yours truly E.FG. 1 The

property, Melton Grange, was bought by Offwood Bendall; his brother lived in Woodbridge. EFG's purchase was part of the Grange estate. 2 W. K. Browne's widow.

To Anne Thackeray Geldeston HaU: Beccles June 7/64 Dear Annie Thackeray, Your Note has been sent me. I quite understand why you did not write before; I did not wish you to do so; and shall be sorry if you

June 1864 have written now to pain or trouble yourself. Indeed, I had doubted considerably whether I should write at all to you when I did; but I thought on the whole best to do so, so long as I could relieve you from any obligation to answer. The Truth is, I had seen so little of your Father for the last ten Years (my own fault) that you might have supposed I was insensible to his Loss; which, little as you might mind my deficiency amid the Regrets of so many better Friends, I did not wish; and, as I have not dealt in Compliment, I believed you would believe me when I said what I did, and do, say. Many a time in the last few years I have been on the point to write to your Father and tell him how I loved some of his Books, which was all I saw or heard of him almost; but he never used to care for such demonstration, and did not seem to care to write Letters after so much pen-work already. So I left that alone; and you may know that I have seen no more of other Friends than of him for a long while past. I never wanted Major Andre1 the least except for his Association with poor Mr. Browne (I dare say you don't know about him) who had been curiously mixed up with the Picture; nor did I want it at all when your Father wrote that he had hung it up, etc. Still less do I want it now. I have had a very good Oil Copy made by Laurence of his last Chalk Portrait of your Father; as large as the Original; and this hangs in my room. I went to London on purpose to see the house at Kensington before the Sale; and spoke to the Housekeeper there about him and you. One Day when you are returned from abroad, and settled, you will perhaps let me know how you and your Sister are. Remember me kindly to her; as also to your Grandmother who I did not know sur­ vived till after I had heard that her Son was no more. Believe me yours sincerely Edward FitzGerald I have lately lost another Sister—in this year of Death. 1 Portrait of Major John Αηάτέ, hanged as a spy by the Americans during the Revolution, attributed to Sir Joshua Reynolds. EFG gave the painting to Thackeray about 1857. See letter to Leslie Stephen, [March, 1883].

June 1864

To Stephen Spring Rice Markethill: Woodbridge June 23, [1864] My dear Spring Rice, Your Letter is so kind and pleasant that, in spite of its being in Answer to mine, I must and will add a Rider, which you are not ex­ pected to notice, but silently adopt. Here I am on shore too, on a rainy Day, after yesterday returning in my good Ship, The Scandal, 14 Tons Builder's measure, from Lowestoft—after carrying away an over­ grown Topsail (I daren't be so nautical as to write "Taup-s'l") in coming round old Orford Ness, where a SW wind met a strong Flood Tide, and, to say Truth, I am rather glad of a Respite. My Captain (whose Crew consists of one) is so restless and conscientious a Man that he can't be easy unless at work, and in sight of, if not on, the Sea; he can't bear lying in the Mud here; and though I should be very glad to leave him at ease (on the Mud) for Days together he won't; and I find it won't do to lend him and the Ship to everybody, since others want Employment also, and very fairly grudge to have it given gratuitously out of their hands. I have never been quite well these eight months, and somehow get very knocked up with Sea-faring, little Exertion as I make in it. But enough of myself so far as this is concerned. I don't wish you should think that I forbore going to see you more than any one else of the Old Time, when I went to London. Donne met me in the Street tearing back to the Railroad by which I had gone up in the Morning. I have now so often declared that it is anything but want of Regard (I know I can swear it) that makes me keep aloof, that I will repeat what I have said no more. I know that my Back­ wardness, duly analysed, would evince more Estimation of my Friends than of my own Self—much, much, more! I am very glad of the fair prospect that lies before your married Daughter: it will be a great comfort to all the others, as well as your­ self. I don't know if you know that a Niece of mine (Vignati) married a Son of some Rrougham, Brother of the old Lord; the "young Couple" came to live in a Village near Ipswich where she grew up; every one tells me he is a very nice young Fellow, though (as young Gentlemen now are) as able to look after his Interests at twenty-one as we thought time enough to be at fifty. Well—he left the Army when he married a year ago: and took actively to rustic occupation; and a week or two

June 1864 ago fell down in some Fit while working under a hot Sun in his Gar­ den; so is gone to Felixtow on our Coast, and to him I think I will lend my Ship, by the bye, as he is fond of the Water. I have never yet called on him, or seen him, though he has been often at my Brother's close by. I scarce know why I have been drawn into this long account about one nearly as indifferent to me as to you; only one was talking of family marriages, and I thought you might know something of these People. (N.B. You mustn't suppose he is now in any Danger, if ever he was; but we older Fellows must not wonder if we feel Creaky when Twenty-one gets such a Slap. I am Today going to see a Niece given over to Epilepsy: a real Life-long Tragedy, as she is very clever and aware of her condition; but also Angel-patient in bearing it, only think­ ing of the Trouble she gives others. No—no—the Federals are no Friends of mine; I only wrote you, about the Wilkins Business,1 that I did not then know which of us was in the right. I have no doubt they were in the wrong. As to North and South I can't take interest in either; sensible people tell me the South was wrong in first separation: I am sure the North has been wrong, as well as mad, in its purposed Retribution. Did you not like Mrs. Kemble's Book?2 A very honest, courageous, and eloquent one I thought it. I really am tempted to side against the North the rather for dear old Spedding standing up for it! The wisest, as well as best, of Men, as I really think him! Talking of Life-tragedies, surely his is one; such a Life given up to wash the Blackamoor! And with a sad Touch of Farce too. For positively his first Volumes against Macaulay, without the Documents, State Papers, etc., might have struck a good Blow for Bacon with the Public; accordingly Dixon takes them up and does strike a Blow; then comes in old Spedding with his Proofs, which (Thompson told me) really made against Iiis Hero! Thompson told me that Ellis had cooled in his Undertaking from discovering that the further he went the worse it fared for Bacon's Reputation—oh, the good Sense of two Centuries does not go so much astray as Spedding, Froude, etc., would persuade us. I should fancy Aubrey de Vere to be just as likely to sickly over the general Resolution with his individual Cast of Thought. I think I have now written too much, since the MS is bad, and somehow I scarce can do better. So here we will end. Ever yours E.FG. I don't the least know what to do with the six acre farm; but two or three People have asked to hire, or buy, Bits of it; and so I have

July 1864

risen in public Respect. I don't know what you mean about my appear­ ing as Malvolio. The whole Thing seemed to me a silly Business. (P.S. in spite of bad MS.) When I put in to Ramsgate last year, I had to report my Ship to Harbour-master (?) there—some pleasant old R.N. Officer, anyhow. He got out his Papers and Pen—"What's your Vessel's Name?"— "The Scandal."—"Scandal?" (beginning to write; then a pause, and a slight scratch of the gray head) "Let me see—is it spelt 'dal' or 'die?'" —"Dal, Sir"—"Oh, oh, all right," etc. He then asked me if I had been in Ramsgate before: and I said once—in the Vigilant—and then he spoke of you, and of the Captain, whose name I forget; and asked me if I remembered an extraordinarily handsome man who was Steward (?) in the Cutter. Well did I remember him, and thinking somehow that I ought to have been waiting on him, not he on me. 1 Possibly a reference to John Wilkinson, Confederate naval officer, commander of the blockade runner, Robert E. Lee. In October, 1863, with a following of adventurers, he had left his ship at Halifax, Nova Scotia, in a plot to capture a military prison on an island in Lake Erie and release the Confederates confined there. The plan was exposed, but Wilkinson returned to duty as a blockade runner and sea raider. 2 Journal of a Residence on a Georgian Plantation, published in 1863 to en­ lighten those in England who discussed the lot of slaves "in a spirit of entire sympathy with their owners, that nothing but the most absolute ignorance could excuse." Fanny, violently opposed to slavery, had recorded her observations, and strictures, of the slave system while living on plantations of her husband's family.

To W. B. Donne (Fragment) MarkethiU, Woodbridge July 17, [1864] My dear Donne, I ought to have replied sooner to your last; but I have really had nothing to tell but about my sea-faring: which is now very constant though not very far-reaching. If ever you want a small and pleasant excursion, there is now a daily Steamer from Harwich to Rotterdam; and a very fine Steamer too; which takes People in the best Cabin for 18/- there and back with a week's Interval, if you choose, or, you book all the way from London (by Rail to Harwich) for some 28/- I think. . . .

July 1864 When you wrote to me of your Trip to Wales and of your Host there, did I surmise rightly that he was Mr. Sartoris? You did not name him as such. Edward Cowell has been home these two months at Ipswich; but I have not yet seen him. He was to have come over here one day, but somehow did not. I hear he looks quite hearty and even handsome: we shall meet before long, I doubt not: perhaps to­ morrow, as I have written to him for that purpose. Have you read Newmans "Apologia"?1 a deeply interesting Book, I think; very honest, it seems to me, and with some very fine things in it.... Ever yours E.FG. 1 John Henry Newman's Apologia pro Vita Sua, published first in weekly pam­ phlets, then as a book, in 1864.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge July 31/64 My dear George, I returned yesterday from a Ten Days' Cruise to the Sussex Coast: which was pleasant enough. Tomorrow I talk of Lowestoft and Yar­ mouth: so I take this opportunity to fire you a Line. Also, to enclose you Willis and Sotheran's Letters about the Thackeray Book I told you of. I wrote, as you advised, saying I supposed their Clerk must have made a mistake in talking of charging me £1 for a Book which they valued at so much, not even allowing me a price even if I had ever wished to sell it to them. As the People are civil and fair-dealing, I suppose they have their right, some way, though I cannot see it: can you? Also, I will send you by Tomorrow's Post Washington Moon's Dean's English1—an attack on Alford's Queens. Moon is a Snob evidently: but then Alford is, and ever was, a Prig: and rather a sneaking Prig. Read Newman's Apologia pro Vita Sua—something of a very differ­ ent order, deeply interesting; pathetic, eloquent, and, I think, sincere: sincere, in not being conscious of all the steps he took in reaching his present Place. Barlow paid his money some ten Days ago: he should do as you say. People seem to think he must be hard up.

August 1864 You don't mention one very fine Crome at the Gallery: a view in Cumberland, I think: which I could have taken for a Landscape by Valesquez. I also admired the Sea piece you speak of: but Mr. Church­ yard, who knows the picture well, says it was mainly painted by Crome's Son, under the Father's Eyes and Finishing Touch, however. The Gainsboro' Portrait I admired also for its Colour, etc., but how in­ ferior he always is to Sir Joshua in the Expression, Air, and Attitude, of his Portraits: his Women generally look vacant and silly, I think; he had little Virtue or Dignity in himself and could not reflect it in others—whereas Sir Joshua! I am quite burned brown and red by Sea and Sun. Yours always E.FG. 1

A second response by George Washington Moon to The Queen's English, revised, 1864, by Henry Alford, Dean of Canterbury. See letter to Crabbe, Jan. 12.

To George Crabbe Woodbridge Aug. 14, [1864] Dear George, Your Packet duly came. I am sorry you cut out a bit of your Grand­ father's Letter: I only wanted the words. That, and Barton's Letter, I will return you. Do you remember the year in which there was a larger Sale of your Grandfather's MSS—seized and sold, I think, at the Bankruptcy of one of Murray's Foremen? I want a Scrap or two of your Uncle John's Drawings—Figures— especially, if I might have it, one of a Simpleton smelling a Flower— which your Father used to admire. I think some good Copy should be made of your Pickersgill1 Por­ trait of the Poet. Could one not even have a Photograph made of it? My Brother Peter and his Wife were here this last week; tomorrow Airy comes to Biddle at Playford, and will want to see, and sail with, me. After this, I shall get away some Days in my Ship to Kent, and the Thames; and then, I suppose, begin to draw in, and keep near home. I showed Mr. Churchyard the Yarmouth Advertiser, and he, I believe, would run over to look: but tomorrow is County Court Day here.

August 1864 George Moor called here yesterday to settle about the Enfranchise­ ment of my new Estate, much of which is Copyhold. I am really think­ ing of pulling down, and building up, a little on the Premises; which you will think foolish, considering that I may never care to live there myself, and could let all, as it now stands, to another. I must consult with you about any Alterations. Have I more to say? Not anything that comes to the Surface. So Adieu for the present. E.FG. I don't quite understand what you say about Willis and Sotheran. Why should they charge me anything for a Book which I never intended to sell them, and which they had never even advertised as to be sold? 1

Henry W. Pickersgill (1782-1875).

To E. B. Cowell What of "Enoch Arden?"1 etc. Markethill: Woodbridge Aug. 31, [1864] My dear Cowell,

I am just returned from a Fortnight's Absence, and am just about starting for another—in my Ship—but no further than Gravesend, where I am to dodge about with a Brother. I hope you don't think I have forgotten you. Your visit gave me a sad sort of Pleasure, dashed with the Memory of other Days; I now see so few People, and those all of the common sort, with whom I never talk of our old Subjects; so I get in some measure unfitted for such converse, and am almost saddened with the remembrance of an old contrast when it comes. And there is something besides; a Shadow of Death: but I won't talk of such things: only believe I don't forget you, nor wish to be forgotten by you. Indeed, your kindness touched me. I have been reading Juvenal with Translation, etc., in my Boat. Nearly the best things seem to me what one may call Epistles, rather than Satires: VIII, To Ponticus: XI, To Persicus: and XII, XIII, and XIV, to several others: and, in these, leaving out the directly satirical Parts. Satires III and X, like Horace's Poems, are prostituted by Par­ liamentary and vulgar use, and should lie by for a while. One sees Lucretius, I think, in many parts; but Juvenal can't rise to Lucretius, who is, after all, the true sublime Satirist of poor Man, and of some-

October 1864 thing deeper than his Corruptions and Vices: and he looks on all, too, with "a Countenance more in Sorrow than in Anger." By the way, I want you to tell me the name and Title of that Essay on Lucretius which you said was enlarged and reprinted by the Author2 from the original Cambridge and Oxford Essays. I want much to get it. There is a fine Passage in Juvenal's 6th Satire on Women: beginning line 634, "Fingimus haec, etc." to 650: but (as I think) leaving out lines 639, 640; because one can understand without them, and they jingle sadly with their one Vowel ending. I mention this because it occurs in a Satire which, from its Subject, you may perhaps have little cared for. Another Book I have had is Wesley's Journal,3 which I used to read, but gave away my Copy—to you? or Robert Groome was it? If you don't know it, do know it; it is curious to think of this Diary of his running almost coevally with Walpole's Letter-Diary; the two men born and dying too within a few years of one another, and with such different Lives to record. And it is remarkable to read pure, unaffected, and undying, English, while Addison and Johnson are tainted with a Style, which all the world imitated! Remember me to all. Ever yours E.FG. "Sed genus humanum damnat caligo Futuri"—a Lucretian line from Juvenal.4 1 Tennyson's

Enoch Arden and Other Poems, published in July. Y. Sellars, professor of Latin at Edinburgh University, reprinted his "Essay on Lucretius," which had first appeared in Oxford Essays, 1855, in his Roman Poets of the Republic, 1863. 3The journal of John Wesley (1703-91), co-founder of Methodism. EFG de­ scribed the work as "that capital Journal . . . with its glimpses of England, its people and places, one hundred years ago." 4 Juvenal, VI.556. Dryden's translation reads, "And Mankind, ignorant of future Fate." 2 William

To E. B. Cowell Market Hill: Woodbridge October 5 / 64 My dear CoweU, Are you gone, or going, to London, as your last Letter talked of doing about this time? I don't forget you, nor am indifferent to seeing

October 1864 you: but I have indeed lost the Talent of going to see—even older Friends than you! If you are not gone, or not so shortly going as to have no time for going elsewhere, here am I pretty generally now: my Ship and I having almost parted for the year. I still however take a reach in her now and then: but not during these North Easters. Donne wrote me, I think, that he had seen you; I am sure, indeed, for he expressed great pleasure at it. I have been reading the Aeneid in my Ship—a poor Epic, in spite of what Tennysons say. But I liked the Eighth Book about old Evander: with his little Court: Euandrum ex humili tecto lux suscitat alma, Et matutini volucrum sub culmine cantus.1 There is a beautiful picture (verses 407-13) of the poor Woman "cui tolerare colo vitam tenuique Minerva"2 going to light her slender fire and call up her Servants: but not a very happy illustration, to be sure, of Vulcan stirring up the Cyclopes in Aetna. Well—let me hear where you are, and what about, and believe me ever Yours and Gude-wife's E.FG. 1 Aeneid VIII. 455-56. "Kindly daylight and the morning songs of birds under the eaves rouse Evander from his lowly dwelling." 2 VIII. 409. "Whose task is to sustain life with her scanty loom."

To John Allen Markethill, Woodbridge October 8/64 My dear Allen, "What cheer?" This is what we nautical Men shout to one another as we pass in our Ships. The Answer is generally only an Echo; but you will have to tell me something more. I find it rather disgusting to set you an example by telling of my Doings; for it is always the same thing over and over again. I doubt this will put an End to even Letters at last: I mean, on my part. You have others beside yourself to tell of; you go abroad, too; deliver charges, etc. Well, however, I had better say that I have been for the last four

November 1864 months going about in my little Ship as in former years, and now am about to lay up her, and myself, for the Winter. The only Friend I hear from is Donne, who volunteers a Letter unprovoked sometimes. Old Spedding gives an unwilling Reply about thrice in two years. You speak when spoken to; so does Thompson, in general: I shall soon ask of him what he has been doing this Summer. I have been reading in my Boat—Virgil, Juvenal, and Wesley's Journal. Do you know the last? one of the most interesting Books, I think, in the Language. It is curious to think of his Diary extending over nearly the same time as Walpole's Letters, which, you know, are a sort of Diary. What two different Lives, Pursuits, and Topics! The other day I was sitting in a Garden at Lowestoft in which Wesley had preached his first Sermon there: the Wall he set his Back against yet standing. About 1790 Crabbe, the Poet, went to hear him; he was helped into the Pulpit by two Deacons, and quoted— By the Women oft I'm told, Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old, etc. So I have heard my George Crabbe tell: who has told it also in his very capital Memoir of his Father.1 Sheet full. Kind Regards to Madame and Young Folks. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe with His Letters and Journals, and His Life, 8 vols., 1834,1, 148.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge Nov 11164 My dear Cowell, Let me hear of you whenever you have something to tell of yourself: or indeed whenever you have a few spare minutes, and happen, to think—of me. I don't forget you: and "out of sight" is not "out of mind" with you, and three or four more in the World. I hope you see Donne at times: and you must look out for old Spedding, that melan­ choly Ruin of the 19th Century, with his half-white-washed Bacon. Perhaps you will see another Ruin—the Author of Enoch Arden.

November 1864 Compare that with the Spontaneous Go of Palace of Art, Mort d'Arthur, Gardener's Daughter, Locksley Hall, Will Waterproof, Sleeping Palace, Talking Oak, and indeed, one may say, all the two Volumes of 1842. As to Maud, I think it the best Poem, as a whole, after 1842. To come down to very little, from once great, Things—I don't know if it's your coming home, or my being better this Winter, or what: but I have caught up a long ago begun Version of my dear old Mdgico,1 and have so recast it that scarce a Plank remains of the original! Pretty impudence: and yet all done to conciliate English, or modern, Sympathy. This I shan't publish: so say (pray!) nothing of it at all—remember—only I shall print some Copies for you and one or two more: and you and Elizabeth will like it a great deal too much. There is really, very great Skill in the Adaptation, and Remodelling of it. By the bye, would you translate Demonio, Lucifer, or Satan? one of the two I take. I cut out all the precioso very ingeniously: and gave all the Mountain-moving, etc., in the second Act without Stage direc­ tion, so as it may seem to pass only in the dazzled Eyes, or Fantasy, of Cyprian. All this is really a very difficult Job to me; not worth the Candle, I dare say: only that you two will be pleased. I also increase the religious Element in the Drama; and make Cyprian outwit the Devil more cleverly than he now does; for the Devil was certainly too clever to be caught in his own Art. That was very good Fun for an Autodafe Audience, however. But please say nothing of this to any one. I should like to take up the Vida es Sueno too in the same manner; but these plays are more difficult than all the others put together: and I have no spur now.2 How would you translate Pliny's "Quisquis est Deus, et quacumque in parte, totus est Sensus, totus Visus, totus Auditus, totus Animae, totus Animi, totus Sui?"3 This Passage is alluded to by Calderon; but, in the manner of our old Playwrights, I quote it in the Latin and translate.4 I want to know by you if I have done it sufficiently; and I don't send you mine, in order that you may send me your Version freely. Now, Good Bye: I suppose it's this rainy Day that draws out this, with several other Letters, that had waited some while to be written. Yours ever E.FG. 1 Calder0n's

El Mdgico Prodigioso. privately printed his versions of El Mdgico Prodigioso and La Vida es Suefio as The Mighty Magician and Such Stuff as Dreams are Made of. He re­ ceived copies of the first the following February, the second in April. 2 EFG

November 1864 3 "For

whatever God be, and wherever he exists, he is all sense, all sight, all hearing, all life, all mind, and all within himself." (Naturalis Historia, 11. 5.) 4 The Latin passage, rejected in the course of composition, is the basis of a number of speeches by Cipriano and Lucifer, protagonist and antagonist in The Mighty Magician.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge Novr 19/64 My dear Cowell, Thank you for your Letter. I am so far glad to find that the Pliny is not at once intelligible to you, any more than it was to me after much longer reflection. Probably Pliny himself was as much in the Dark as we. My own Version I knew was shaky—both in the direct Sense of the Words and the Logic: which made me trouble you for Counsel. The Truth is, I simply wanted to drop at once to Ciprian's objection to the Plurality of Gods. I will however transcribe my Version of this part: and you must see if it hitches, as I think it does, with the consent of Pliny himself. I wish you would be so good as to transcribe and send me directly the Latin of the Passage; of which I also send you Philemon Holland's Version; the Latin of those two Sentences only; of which I see I have left out one clause in my Version—"Si qua Deus est" or some such Words;1 meaning, I suppose, if there be any other God than the Anima Mundi, etc. I am sure you will be very pleased with my Play, which, while it preserves the Lines (to use a Ship-builder's Phrase) retains scarce a Plank of the original Ship. This, I know, does not sound promising to you; but, on altering one part to suit modern sympathies (as I take them to be) I was obliged to alter others, and so I can't call it a Trans­ lation at all. I am not Poet enough for single Passages: but there is some Poetical Invention still in what I have added; especially in the conduct of Justina's Dream. I don't publish, because I found there was no use, in the other Translations: more trouble to others and oneself than Good. If any Magazine or Miscellany chooses to print this Play (supposing you and others approve it) well and good. Do send me the Latin when you can. It is true that I don't at all

December 1864 like to hear of your going to India:21 like to feel you are in England: and if I am now too shy to go to you, should always be glad of you here. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 "Si

modo est alius," omitted from the passage in his letter of Nov. 11. leave of absence would terminate in July.

2 Cowell's

To Alfred Tennyson Markethill, Woodbridge Decr 4/ 64 Dear Alfred, Let me hear before long—before the New Year—how you and Mrs. Tennyson are. All I can tell of myself is that I am much as I was last year; having sailed about in my Ship all Summer, and now poking about six acres of Land I have bought in a squalid Corner of Woodbridge: where I build a little: pull down a little: drain a little; make a Pond a little: plant a little, etc. I believe I shall never live there. Now, I should be almost ready to be "Yours ever," etc., if I didn't remember to ask you if you have any objection to my giving two or three of the leaves of your old Butcher's Book (do you remember?) to the Library at Trinity College? An admirer of yours there told me they would be glad of some such thing. It was in 1842 when you were printing the two good old Volumes—in Spedding's Rooms—and the Butcher s Book, after its margins serving for Pipe-lights, went Leaf by Leaf into the Fire: and I told you I would keep two or three Leaves of it as a Remembrance. So I took a Bit of my old favourite Audley Court: and a bit of another, I forget which: for I can't lay my hands on them just now. But when I do, I shall give them to Trinity College unless you are strongly opposed. I dare say, however, you would give them the whole MS. of one of your later Poems; which probably they would value more. Well—pray let me hear how you are—you and yours—and—now for it— Believe me ever yours E.FG.

December 1864

To William Crowfoot (Fragment) Markethill, Woodbridge Dec r 4/64 . . . I was almost on the point of running to Beccles last week, partly to see you, partly to see a house built by Mr. Crisp for his son, which G. Crabbe says is almost the Model of a House: I am pulling down and building up a little in my great Estate of five acres;1 to no purpose, I believe. 1

EFG refers at times to six acres in the property, at other times to five.

To E. B. Cowell Market Hill: Woodbridge Dec r 7/64 My dear Cowett, I have sent you up a Brace of Pheasants: which I inform you of, not to be thanked: but that you mayn't be at a Loss to account for their coming to you. Thanks for the Pliny. I think the Editor blunders in explaining "alius" as referring to the Sun: for two reasons. First that (if P. Holland is to be trusted) the very first Chapter speaks of The World—a Uni­ verse itself (I suppose Mundus, or κόσμος) as in some sort Deity: Secondly, that it would not be absurd to make an EflBgy of God if he were only the Sun: of which such a Picture as our Signboards repre­ sent is an intelligible Emblem at least. Whereas, there can be no intelligible Bepresentation of World or Universe—made up of Skies, Seas, Land, etc., but the World itself. I don't doubt Pliny means "if there be any distinct, or personal, God other than Nature's Self." But still the "totuses" are not so easy to translate, though the Sense may be guessed at. It's no matter: one can leave out the Latin, even if the whole thing were of any moment. I sent the Magician near three weeks ago to Childs; but he is so busy, I told him to put off printing till the New Year. Since then I have taken up the "Vida es Sueno" of which a rough Draft has long lain by me. But I don't know if I can now lick this into such Shape as will satisfy me: one can't run and rattle on as one used. Don't say anything about these things please.

December 1864 If I don't write again, let me wish you a happy Xmas now. Perhaps you'll be spending it at Ipswich? If so, do come over here. Ever yours E.FG. Pheasants killed last Friday: so will keep. I am enjoying Max Muller's 2nd Lectures.1 1 "On the Language and Poetry of Schleswig Holstein," MacMillan s Magazine, Sept., 1864, pp. 351-65.

To W. F. Pollock Markethill, Woodbridge Decr—what? but 164 My dear Pollock, I didn't deserve half so long, kind, and pleasant a Letter as you sent me: and now I write to tell you so. Annie Thackeray had just written, to say they were got to live at 8 Onslow Gardens; her Letter very genuine and very humorous (as she always was and must be) under real Sorrow. She talks honestly of turning a Penny by "little Articles," for which she has got "a little Room" to herself. I hope she won't be­ come a hack serial; her Story of Elizabeth1 was really original, I thought, with The Dew on it. I wouldn't subscribe to WMT's Westminster Monument,2 because, on the one hand, I think no one should be monumented there till one hundred [years] have proved that any one knows of him; and, on the other [hand] (rather contradictory), there are already such a heap of vulgar Statues to People no one, even now, cares for that I shouldn't care to see WMT lumped among them, next to—Sir W. Follett,3 for instance. What Foreigner, looking into the Noble Abbey, but must wonder at such an Intrusion; the Name not known, I suppose, out of Britain, and not exciting any very lively recognition here. Does it? I feel sure WMT will be known and admired one hundred years hence: Laurence's Likeness will be kept, and repeated; and then the New Zealander may make a Bust, or a Statue, as he pleases. I saw some one cried out for Leech to be commemorated in "one of the great national Repositories," etc. I shouldn't wonder if Leech survives fifty years; but, once begin at this work, not one of the Staff of Punch will die, but there will be the same Cry from Cockneydom:

January 1865 Douglas Jerrold, Laman Blanchard (or some such-named Man),4 dug up to be carried to the great National Repository, etc. I have had also a kind letter from Mrs. AT—who answers my yearly letter to her husband. She is a graceful lady, but I think that she and other aesthetic and hysterical Ladies have hurt AT, who, quoad Artist, would have done better to remain single in Lincolnshire, or married a jolly Woman who would have laughed and cried without any reason why. But this is foolish and wicked Talking. Annie T. tells me she went to see S. Rice before he sailed. I had not heard he had sailed; and I have written to ask Spedding about it. I doubt it must be because of ill health. Really, this is a vile scrawl: but I shall send it. E.FG. 1 Anne

Thackeray's first novel, 1863. bust by Thackeray's friend Carlo Marochetti, French sculptor, who lived the latter part of his life in London. 3Sir William Follett (1798-1845), eminent jurist and Member of Parliament. * John Leech, cartoonist for Punch; Jerrold, dramatist, editor, and miscellaneous writer; Samuel Laman Blanchard, editor and writer. Leech had died October 28; Blanchard in 1845; Jerrold, 1857. 2A

To George Crabbe [Woodbridge ] [January, 1865] My dear George, If I can lay my hands on it I will send you Dove's last plan;1 whether for two, or four, rooms. You will see that the two new Gables are for the one room, 18 by 15, and the other part a 15 ft. room. Dove, who I do not think tries to force upon me, advises four rooms if once about it. I incline for two, as being more easily kept, if I only go visiting there, and also as cheaper. As to letting it, somehow I fancy I shan't, unless something turns up much pleasanter. The Abbey and Estate2 are to be sold. Won't your Admiral Carthew come for them? Three People—Mr. Berry first, with great excitement, told me (what I knew) that you had been dining with the Prince of Wales. So that not only are you yourself raised in the Scale of Being, but I also who know a Man who has just dined with H.R.H. Robert Groome came here for a Day—two—and was very pleasant. He asked me to give you the Advocate,3 which I did not pretend to

January 1865 read any more of than the "Contents." While here, he went over to Marsh's; and, coming back up my staircase, I thought I heard a Voice I knew talking to him; and in with him, without rap, ring, or any sort of announcement, walked Mr. Jones with a Paper for me to sign releas­ ing £500 which Mr. Gurney4 had left to Mrs. F. I did sign this paper; but when he talked of coming with another, I told him before Groome that these were sort of manners quite new to me, and wrote to him afterward to desire that he should refer to Mr. Doughty. I told him at the same time there was no man I more respected for his humanity: but I really could not tell where those boisterous Inspirations were to stop, or what, or who, was to follow. Groome could not believe that a man should come up so cavalierly to whom I had not spoken for seven years: even as it was, G. had advised his sending his Name up first. I really believe Peter Parley has done with me; I hedged him so into a Corner about a Grand Lie; persuaded him at last that I thought his Books very stupid forgeries, etc. All this I had told him before, nor did I mind his Lies so long as they were viva voce; for then nobody believed him. But he has undertaken, with Mr. Dallenger,5 to be anonymous Censors in the Woodbridge Reporter: and though I don't think they meddle with me, I will not meddle with anonymous Libellers. E.FG. 1 Benjamin

Dove, Woodbridge builder, who added the first rooms to the cottage EFG had bought. 2 The Abbey had been sold in 1853 by the Carthew family which had owned the property since 1711. In 1865 the Carthews again took possession of the property. 3 The Christian Advocate and Review, which Groome edited. 4 Richard Jones, the Woodbridge surgeon, and Hudson Gurney of Norfolk, both friends of Mrs. FitzGerald's. 5 John Dallenger, an accountant of Woodbridge.

To E. B. Cowell (Fragment) [Woodbridge ] [January, 1865]

. . . as a conscientious, good, piece of Work. So I find it, so far as I can judge: and shall take it on board with me this Summer—"Si Deus," etc. By the bye, I make my Lucifer quote Lucretius. Mr. Childs sent me a

January 1865 first Proof yesterday; I altered the Pliny from what I sent you, but still have warped it a little from the original to suit my own needs. The Vida wants little but to be written out; only I have not quite satisfied myself with some situations I have got my Prince into. I call the Play "Such Stuff as Dreams are Made of'1—to hook on Calderon with his Contemporary;2 isn't it a good Title? Yes; of course much the best Part of the whole. Don't, please, speak of these Plays till I send them to you: but let me know how you are, and Wife, and believe me yours ever E.FG. 1 In

the play Segismund, a prince ignorant of his parentage, has been reared in a solitary mountain tower to thwart a prophecy that he will destroy his father. When he reaches maturity, the king tests the prediction by having him drugged and taken to the court. His conduct convinces his father that the prophecy is valid. Segismund is again drugged and returned to the tower where, on his re­ covery, he is persuaded that the brief interlude amid luxury was a dream. EFG supplied the following preface: For Calderon's Drama sufficient would seem The title he chose for it—"Life is a Dream"; Two words of the motto now filch'd are enough For the impudent mixture they label—"such Stuff!" 2EFG stretches a point. Calderon (1600-81) was born 16 years before Shake­ speare's death.

To W. B. Donne [Woodbridge ] [January, 1865] My dear Donne, I believe I should oftener write to you did not my writing seem to call for an Answer: which I am glad of, to be sure, but never wish to Exact except to some special Question: which I have seldom to ask. I am really glad to hear of Mrs. Sartoris' recovery; and sorry to hear of the Cowells being anyways out of sorts. What a d d unlucky thing about the India Library? Just the thing for him, as you say. Thank me one day for the Verses I enclose; surely among some of Byron's best1—and justest. I dare not send Spedding a Copy; for he liked the old humbug. What a pretty Book is the Tennyson Selection;2 only, could they have found no one to design better ornaments than the meagre and

January 1865 vulgar things they have put? I think the Sleeping Palace, and Palace of Art should have been in: and Somewhat too much of Prince Albert & Co. I was going to build, with great energy, when some Steward of a manor claims my Building Bit for Copyhold, though sold to me as Freehold. I see Property has its Sorrows as well as its Rights and Duties. By the bye, I mustn't forget to answer the main Question of your Letter—about the Busk3—you see I can't have it yet, as I have no house for it. I think the Bearded Portraits of AT make him look like Dickens. There is a nice paper in the Cornhill about Thackeray's School Days—by a Mr. Boyce4 (if I read Annie Thackeray's words aright). I wonder I never heard WMT speak of it.5 The Paper made me very sad, coming so close on my own College Recollections. I told Annie T. if there were to be any Memoir of her Father, to get Tom Taylor6 to do it—perhaps Lewes7 might do pretty well; but I think Taylor is a more reverent and Scholarly man. But I have never heard if the thing is about doing at all. An old Doctor—only 87 (nothing for Woodbridge) comes to eat hot pheasant and drink hot Grog tonight—9 P.M. But I must not vaunt Woodbridge Immortality any longer since Loder8 is dead! This in­ credible thing followed almost momentarily after—washing his feet one Saturday night. E.FG. 1 EFG had printed copies of Byron's satire "On Sam Rogers," which had been published posthumously in Fraser's Magazine, Jan., 1833. The lines read, in part:

Nose and chin would shame a knocker; Wrinkles that would puzzle Cocker; Mouth which marks the envious scomer, With a scorpion in each corner, Hear the tales he lends his lips to; Little hints of heavy scandals; Every friend in turn he handles; All which women or which men do, Glides forth in an inuendo, All which life presents of evil Make for him a constant revel. See, also, EFG's parody of Rogers' "A Wish," following letter to Barton, Dec. 29, 1844. 2 Selections from the Works of Alfred Tennyson, published in Moxon's Miniature Poets series, 1865.

February 1865 3 A cast of the first bust of Tennyson by Thomas Woolner, given to EFG by Spedding in 1860. See letter to Donne, [March 6, 1867], 4 "A Memorial of Thackeray's School-days," by J. F. Boyes, Comhill Magazine, Jan., 1865. 5 "It" written in error for "him." Thackeray had lodged at Boyes's home while attending Charterhouse School, and the two had corresponded as late as 1861. 6 Thackeray's friend, editor of Punch. 7 George Henry Lewes. 8 John Loder, Sr.

To Mrs. W. K. Browne (Fragment) Woodbridge February 15,1865 . . . Do you ever hear from her [Lucy]? She was down here twice last year for a considerable time, though I never came across her. She seems perfectly well, and to make herself quite comfortable at Brighton and visiting about. No doubt I was all to blame in not trying to make the best of the marriage, but can any one say but that we are both of us better as we are? Marriages between very unequal ages are bad, but it was reserved for me to make a stupider: of two elderly people very determined in their own distinct ways of life. I often think of your husband in this matter: how he foresaw all, and very properly did not spare me in the matter. . . . I don't think I shall ever go to live or die there [at his new house], but it has been a little pleasure to me to drain and otherwise improve my five or six acres, not only for the improvement sake, but because it gives employment. Even now I have six men filling up a ditch, etc., who would else have been out of work.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill, Woodbridge Feb. 23, [1865] By this post travels also the Magico—which has been delayed one way or another, I don't know how. Mr. Childs has been busy, and ill too. Well, here it is, anyhow. The Vida is, I believe, some while ago in

February 1865 hand; but I have no proof of it yet. I somehow doubt you will like these things too well; but if you will find a jolly Fault, I shall know there must be something very wrong; and then how shall I chuckle at not having the Fear of the Athenaeum over my head! Donne wrote me word you had been dining with him and old Spedding; and how pleasant it was. But he said you neither of you (I mean, Wife and you) seemed quite in good case; you pining for India, and not liking the Harness you are now in. Tell me about this one day; I dare say when you have done your day's work you are glad enough to have no Letter writing. Garcin de Tassy has sent me his photograph: really just the man one would fancy: humane and scholarly, but not very powerful. I suppose he has sent you also. Do you know Munro's Lucretius?1 Thompson recommended it to me as a piece of conscientious good work: and I am delighted with it. Oh! how I have been regaling on Dickens' Mutual Friendl Quite absurd, I know; but yet the Mighty Little Magician in every Page: as true a Genius as ever lived, though not the highest or completest. He has taken to be Carlylese, I think: not for the better; and in several respects one sees he is not all he was: but he is Dickens still. Love to the Lady— ever yours E.FG. 1A

prose translation and commentary by H.A.J. Munro, 1860.

To R. C. Trench Markethill: Woodbridge February 25/65 My dear Lordy Edward Cowell's return to England set him and me talking of old Studies together, left oif since he went to India. And I took up three sketched-out Dramas—two of Calderon1—and have Iicked the two Calderons into some sort of shape of my own, without referring to the Original. One of them goes by this Post to your Grace; and when I tell you the other is no other than your own "Life's a Dream,"2 you won't wonder at my sending the present one on Trial, both done as they are in the same lawless, perhaps impudent, way. I know you would not care who did these things, so long as they were well done; but one doesn't wish to meddle, and in so free-and-easy a way, with a Great

March 1865 Man's Masterpieces, and utterly fail: especially when two much better men have been before one. One excuse is that Shelley3 and Dr. Trench only took parts of these plays, not caring surely—who can?—for the underplot and buffoonery which stands most in the way of the tragic Dramas. Yet I think it is as a whole, that is, the whole main Story, that these Plays are capital; and therefore I have tried to present that Whole, leaving out the rest, or nearly so; and altogether the Thing has become so altered one way or another that I am afraid of it now it's done, and only send you one Play (the other indeed is not done print­ ing; neither to be published), which will be enough if it is an absurd Attempt. For the Vida is not so good even, I doubt: dealing more in the Heroics, etc. I tell Donne he is too partial a Friend—so is Cowell; Spedding, I think, wouldn't care. So, as you were very kind about the other Plays, and love Calderon (which I doubt argues against me), I send you my Magician. You will not mind if I blunder in addressing you; in which I steered a middle course between the modes Donne told me; and so, probably, come to the Ground! Believe me your Grace's Very sincerely Edward FitzGerald 1 The third play was his version of Agamemnon by Aeschylus, not printed until 1869. 2 Published in 1856. 3 Scenes from El Mdgico Prodigioso, translated by Shelley in 1822, were pub­ lished in his Posthumous Poems, 1824.

To George Crabbe [Woodbridge ] [March, 1865] My dear George, What has become of you? Retired into a Convent after being saddled with the Story of the Merton Ball? Which is the last I heard of you, I think. I shall really be glad to hear that you have not suffered from that Throat-disease (Diphtheria?) which you also wrote of as attacking Miladi: and, as you say she is a good clever Woman, I hope she is better, and well. Let me hear, won't you? I have nothing to report of myself: only I keep on draining and

March 1865 dabbling at my Estate: and was just about building when G. Moor told me that it was not certain the House-ground was Freehold, though sold as such. And there's no getting Mr. Hartcup1 of Bungay, whose Business it is to stir in the matter: he is rich and indolent. I dare say you think it's quite as well one is stopt: but there lie the Bricks; and it's only keeping one's Ground in Disorder the longer. That huge Bassano is come down and lies there: it is very good, though not by the best of the Brothers; the Subject, the eternal Adora­ tion of Shepherds, which the Family of Bassano must have done at so much a Yard, I think. Some of the dark upper half might well be cut away, or hidden with lovely Gold. There's a Capital Frame; the whole seven feet long: and all for £19.1 believe one reason against its sale is the figure of one Shepherd who is doubling himself up to blow a Fire, but looks about quite another Business. I have amused—or occupied myself, a little this winter with two Plays of Calderon which, being his best, have given me more trouble than all the others. These I print but don't publish. I'll send you them when done though you needn't, and won't, read 'em, E.FG. 1

William Hartcup, solicitor.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge March 23 [1865] My dear Cowell, I want to hear how you are. As you wrote of so soon being in Ips­ wich, I direct to you there. Do let me hear (unless your Eyes and Health forbid) that you are in Suffolk, and in better Health and Spirits. And let me see you when you can. I wish you would thank your Mother and Sister for their very kind Greeting of me in Ipswich Street some weeks ago: it was really as if some one was glad to see my worthless Self again! I am just getting to an end of the Vida (printing) and will of course send it you when done. But pray don't exert yourself to read, or write about it; all in good time. I have no doubt your "Cavils," as you call them, are just: and that I could furnish you with many more of my own finding.

March 1865 By the bye, I will send you Trench's Letter on the Subject, with his "Cavil"—(what an odd word it looks to write, somehow). But he is very good, busy as he is, to write at all about it. The Vida will be open to much more Objection. Well, except one more Play—not of Calderon—begun when these were, and which I can't look at now, I shall never, I believe, meddle with Print again. These things were begun before you left for India; and finished when you came home, this long Winter. Love to the Lady: let me hear of you both: and both of you believe me yours E.FG.

To Mrs. Cowell Woodbridge March 25, [1865] My dear Lady, Thank you for your share in EBCs Letter. Of course your Sister can have the Play, as well as its Companion, when both finished; indeed, I will send you some copies to give to whom you will. It was really for such as yourselves—Allen, and a few more such, I printed at all; and I am not disappointed that the Magician has been welcome to such. Oh, never go back to India! You both of you like a retired Life, in the Country, with Books at home, and poor People abroad, and Provi­ dence over all. Why can't EBC get Orders, and a quiet Living, and see the last of old England, and read the Service of the Dead, in Charitable Hope over E.FG. Oh yes! All this can be done; perhaps even I might help you: Stay, Stay! I shall be very glad if you can both come over to see me. I find Bed, if not Board, for my Guests at the very good Bull Inn, almost next Door; and there you shall have Room by Night and Day of my pro­ viding. But this when Spring comes; in the meanwhile I can be found here any Day. Cowell has not told me any of his Cavils; but that will do to talk of. Let him think of Priest's orders directly. I don't forget your Father, Mother, or Sister; but I really am diffident of asking to be remembered to them. When Spring comes, I mean to go over and look for some Violets in Wherstead Churchyard—once more as forty years ago.1 Adieu, E.FG.

April 1865 1 Spring

sometimes caused EFG's fancy to turn to thoughts of his early love for EUzabeth Cowell. His occasional references to violets at Wherstead were prompted by nostalgic recollections of Elizabeth's visits to his sisters when the FitzGeralds lived at Wherstead Lodge.

To E. B. Cowell Markethilh Woodbridge April 3/65 My dear Cowell, I don't know why Mr. Childs doesn't strike off the two Plays; but he now, I doubt, scarce thinks my Acquaintance and Connection much worth attending to. You shall have the Vida as soon as I have it; and I rather wish to know what you think of it: I am afraid some part is rather in the Ercles Vein;1 and I am not sure whether the Drama is improved by trying to argue it into more probability, instead of leav­ ing it the wild Salvator Sketch it is in the original. It wants a Man of Genius to do this: as also to breathe Character into it. But I think I have made some good Coups de Theatre, and picturesque Situations, notwithstanding: which is only claiming the merit of a Melodramatic Plotsman, you know. I hope you'll come over here before long: and both of you when the East Wind goes, and a Blush of Green appears on the Trees. (By the bye, I think I have hit off the Vida's Almond-tree very well!)2 I really write this because I am tired of reading—what?—Clarissa Harlowe! There's a Work of Genius indeed, wearisome and aggravating as it is: I could make that a readable Book with a Pair of Scissors, I believe; and I wish some Bookseller would let me try: and then I should do some lasting Service in Literature. Ever yours and Lady's E.FG. 1 "This is Ercles vein, a tyrant's vein." Bottom, Midsummer Night's Dream, 1.2.42. 2 EFG paraphrased the passage in question:

Dressing me up in visionary glories, Which the first air of waking consciousness Scatters as fast as from the almander— Such Stuff as Dreams are Made of, III, 1. He added the note, "Almander, or almandre, Chaucer's word for almond-tree, Rom. Rose, 1363."

April 1865

To William Crowfoot (Fragment) Markethill, Woodbridge April 3, [1865] I believe I shall send you in some few days the last Print I shall ever dabble in: taken though not translated, from two of Calderon's most famous ones; the Story and Moral of which will interest you a little, and may interest some others also. Edward Cowell's return from India set me on finishing what I had left and put away these nine years; but I print, not to publish, but because I think they will interest a few people. I suppose you never read that aggravating Book, Clarissa Harlowe? Now, with a pair of Scissors, I could make that a readable Book; and being a perfectly original Work of Genius, I should like to do that Service to my Country before I die. But I should only be abused, and unsold for my pains.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge Friday: April 7? [1865] My dear Cowell I shall be very glad to see you tomorrow; and shall have a Chicken for you at 1 P.M. Only, if you are not well, or it turn out to be otherwise inconvenient to you to come, don't come; the chicken will then do for Mrs. Berry's Sunday Dinner; and I shall get another for you another Day, I hope. But if you are well, and minded to come, do come by all means. I shall be at home at any rate, and always glad to see you. E.FG.

To John Allen Markethill: Ipswich1 April 10/65 My dear Allen, I was much obliged to you for your former Letters; and now send you the second Play. This I don't suppose you'll like as well as the first:

April 1865 perhaps not at all; it is rather "Ercles vein" I doubt. I wish to know however from you what you do think of it; because if it seem to you at all preposterous, I shall not send it to some others: but leave them with the first, which really does please those I wished it to please, with its fine Story and Moral. If you like what I now send, I will send you a Copy of Both stitched together, and another copy to your Cousin: and indeed to any one else you think might be pleased with it. I am indulging in the expensive amusement of Building, though not on a very large scale. It is very pleasant, certainly, to see one's little Gables and Chimnies mount into Air and occupy a Place in the Landscape.2 There is a duller Memoir than the "Lady of Quality," Miss Lucy Aikin s Letters, etc.3 You will find the Private Life of an Eastern Queen a good little Book. I have now got Carlyle's two last volumes of Frederick:4 of which I have only read the latter part; I don't know whether I can read through the Wars and Battles, which are said to be very fine. The piece of Literature I really could benefit Posterity with, I do believe, is an Edition of that wonderful and aggravating Clarissa Harlowe; and this I would effect with a pair of Scissors only. It would not be a bit too long as it is, if it were all equally good; but pedantry comes in, and might, I think, be cleared away, leaving the remainder one of the great original, Works of the World! in this Line. Lovelace is the wonderful character, for Wit: and there is some grand Tragedy too. And nobody reads it! Ever yours, E.FG. 1 Written

in error for Woodbridge. only the framework and chimneys at this stage of construction. 3 Diaries of a Lady of Quality [Miss Frances W. Wynn] "from 1797 to 1844," Abraham Hayward, ed., 1864. Memoirs, Miscellanies, and Letters of the late Lucy Aikin, P. H. Le Breton, ed., 1864. 4 Vols. V and VI of Frederick the Great, published in March. 2 Probably

To Mrs. Cowell Woodbridge—Thursday [April 13,1865] My dear Lady, This is to give Notice, that I shall try [to] persuade EBC to stay over the night here: inasmuch as, unless he does so, he will have but two

May 1865 hours' Indian Converse with my Nephew,1 who doesn't come here till half past five. EBC can go off to Ipswich by an early Train on Good Friday morning: or, if he incline to hear Mr. Meller, can wait here till the Evening. Only, don't be surprized (in spite of all he may have said) if you don't see him this Evening. I am so sure he will like my Nephew that I think it's a Pity for him only to have two hours with him, and that two hours much occupied in Dinner. Oh the lovely Weather! The Violets will soon be out in Wherstead Churchyard. I remember fine white ones there. Oh, the Old Times—not always so agreeable neither, so far as my own Family were concerned: but the White Violets somehow grow above all that. Please remember me very kindly to Mrs. and Miss Cowell; and believe me ever yours E.FG. 1 Captain Edmund Kerrich, 9th Regiment of Foot, EFG's "capital Nephew," on leave from India. After further Indian service he returned to England on sick leave in 1868 and was assigned thereafter to home duty with the rank of Brevet Lt. Colonel.

To John Allen Markethill: Woodbridge May 2, [1865] My dear Allen, I don't know what you think of the second Play: but now here are some Copies of both stitched together, so I send two at a venture— one for your Cousin Mary Allen, whose Address I don't know. She need not write to say anything about it; and that is one reason why it is better to send it through your hand. Don't you take the trouble to write to me now about it—I mean, not till you should next be writing in the course of Nature. For the Mis­ chief is now done, and can't be mended. So Adieu— Ever yours, E.FG.

May 1865 To Mrs. Cowell Woodbridge May 2/65 My dear Lady, I send you two Copies of my two Plays—stitched in one. EBC who was, he said, impatient for the second has yet never told me if it smacked of the false heroic, (as I wanted to know; for, if it had, I should have left it unjoined from the other). But here the two Plays are—in One—for Better or Worse—and I want you to send your sister Maria one of the Copies, with my very kind Remembrances. I believe she will like one of the Plays, at any rate: and perhaps both: as you will: and perhaps EBC also: all of you going some way by private Regard. Enough of it, however. I wrote a Line to EBC yesterday, to ask about Mary Hockley: and really forgetting about these Plays. I have just heard that my Brother Peter's Wife has been seized ill: Ah! Our time is Coming now! Yours sincerely E.FG.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge May 10/65 My dear Cowell, I really wanted to know from you whether any Bombast had struck you in the Vida: if it had, I should have been sorry to send it in com­ pany with the other Play, which had sufficiently pleased those whom I wished to please. Not hearing from you, and not counter-ordering Mr. Childs, he stitched up the two in Company: and so they must keep. I told Trench, when I sent him the Vida alone, (as I did to you) not to feel bound to acknowledge it at all: as he is of course a busy Man: and perhaps might not care for it. I send you four Copies more. You will be welcome to any Number, if Mr. Childs printed off the 100 copies I asked for. As he has only sent fifty, perhaps he stopped there: for somehow he has been too busy to mind my orders much.

May 1865 Somehow I feel it would be sad for us to read one of the old Plays together, and then you to vanish once more to India—and for ever, as far as I am concerned. Yet when we next meet we can talk of it, I am sure your Mother's kindness to me leaves little Thanks due from her for my little Book. Yours truly E.FG.

To Anne Thackeray Markethill: Woodbridge May 14, '65 Dear Anne Thackeray, As you write of being only a short while in London, I shall send up MSS Book of your Father's Drawings directly. I have written, here and there, when and where, and how, the Drawings were made: they are chiefly, I think, cut from letters which began between us in 1831;1 the letters themselves I, almost all, burned some few years ago when your Father became famous: for fear they might fall into the hands of any gossip-monger at my Death: but some few I sent back to your Father himself, that he might himself do what he chose with them. There are two or three Drawings of Larkbeare2—the place, the Pic­ tures, and Himself: which you might like to possess as being part of his History: if so, by all means take them. Indeed you would be wel­ come to any. Only I suppose you have as good, or better, among your own. Shall I then bequeath you the book, in my Last Will and Testa­ ment? Then you will one day say—"That Good Creature, Mr. F.G. left me this. Wasn't it thoughtful of him," etc.?3 The Sir Roger de Coverley Drawings were made thirty years ago:4 and I then asked Moxon and one or two other Publishers to make a Volume of all these Papers in the Spectator (the only ones one cares about) and illustrate them with these Drawings. But no one could see his way then: your Father was not famous; I had still less Authority to persuade them: but some twenty years afterwards Longman makes up such a volume with Drawings not half so good as your Father's. I think it is much best to have no Memoir of your Father: as you say, he is in his Books. I only suggested Tom Taylor in case there were any: or to anticipate some stupid Cockney, should any such project such a work.

May 1865 The Paper you told me of in the Cornhill was very pleasant,5 gentle­ manly, and (I think) just. N.B. Only take care that no Kemble sees the Scrap Book for reasons you will see: though no harm. I have ordered all your Pall Mall Gazette6 (is that it?) from the Beginning; and will look for you in it. I only hope there won't be much politics, which keep me from reading any Paper but the old Athenaeum. I like Chorley better than America, L. Napoleon, etc. To go back to your Father and his Drawings—I see you tell me that you have wanted his Publishers to make a Volume of some of his Drawings, occasional Verses, etc.7 I assure you this is the very thing I have often said wants to be done: and when I spoke to you of any Memoir (except as forced to it by way of anticipating others) meant it only as a peg to hang such things on. The two Sir Rogers which are framed are surely worth engraving: also the Lord of Burleigh Draw­ ing:8 not to mention scores of others, serious or gay, that you and others must have. Why, as to a Volume, there should be half a dozen Vol­ umes. Now do push that on; I, for one, shall be too glad to buy any Number of Volumes that come out: and I cannot doubt it would be a Fortune in itself, as well as a delightful addition to Literature. Well—I hope you will long retain the Bloom of your own writing: and not be spoiled by London—fashionable and aesthetic. Yours and your Sister's sincerely E.FG. 1 Thackeray liberally illustrated his early letters with sketches and caricatures. FitzGerald's fragments provided Anne with material for introductions to the Biographical Edition of her father's works published in 1898. The scrapbook is now in the Berg Collection at the New York Public Library; its contents are reproduced in Dr. Ray's Thackeray Letters and Papers, I, Appendix II. The book was privately printed in 1916 by Clement Shorter as William Makepeace Thackeray and Edward FitzGerald. A copy is in the British Museum. 2 The home of Thackeray's parents, 1825-35. 3EFG inscribed the book: "This volume of W. M. Thackeray's Drawings, Fragments of Letters &c from the year 1829 till 1850 bequeathed to Anne Thackeray, his Daughter, by his Friend Edward FitzGerald. December 25, 1864." He probably intended that the book should be sent to Anne by his executors, for it remained in his possession. He sent it to her again when she was preparing The Orphan of Pimlico in 1875, but he subsequently wrote her publisher asking that it be returned to him. 4 See letter to Allen, June, 1834. 5 "Thackeray's School-Days" by J. F. Boyes. 6 The Gazette, a weekly that had begun publication in February, combined news and literary features. It appears that Anne had recommended it as a period­ ical that would suit EFG's tastes. Henry F. Chorley, to whom EFG refers, was music critic for the Athenaeum.

May 1865 7

The proposal resulted in The Orphan of Pimlico and Other Sketches, not pub­ lished until 1876. 8 Two illustrations for Addison's Sir Roger de Coverley essays (see letter to Thackeray, July 29, 1835, n.7) and one for Tennyson's "The Lord of Burleigh."

To Mrs. Cowell [Woodbridge ] [May, 1865] My dear Lady, I answer you thus directly because I would stick in a Bit of a Letter from Thompson of Cambridge: which relates to a question I asked him weeks ago, as I told E.B.C. I would. You must not think I was in a hurry to have my Play praised: I was really fearful of its being bombastic. You are so enthusiastic in your old and kind Regards and Memories that I can scarce rely on you for a cool Judgment in the matter. But I gather from E.B.C. that he was not struck with what I doubted: and I am very glad, at any rate, that you are very well pleased, both of you. EBC is quite right about obscurity of Phrase: which is inexcusable unless where the Passion of the Speakers makes such utterance natural. This is very often not the case in the Plays, I know: and the Language, as he says, becomes obscure from elaborate Brevity. What you tell of the Music in the Air at your Father's Death—Oh, how Frederic Tennyson would open all his Eyes at this! For he lives in a World of Spirits—Swedenborg's World, which you would not approve; which I cannot sympathize with: but yet I admire the Titanic old Soul so resolutely blind to the Philosophy of the Day. Oh, I think England would be much better for EBC and you: but I can't say anything against what he thinks the Duty chalked out for him. I don't believe the English Rule will hold in India: but, mean­ while, a good Man may think he must do what Good he can there, come what may of it. There is also Good to be done in England? The Wind is still very "stingy" though the Sun shines, and though it blows from the West. So we are all better at our homes for the present. Ever yours E.FG.

July 1865

To Frederick Spalding 11 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft July 9/65 Dear Mr. Spalding,

I got here on Thursday, though the Wind turned against us; so as, when the Tide turned too, we had hard work to get on. I am lodging here next door to the House where I lodged five months in the Winter of 1859-60: I think as pleasant a part of Lowes­ toft as any: midway between Old and New. I rather expect I shall be here till the latter end of next week, un­ less I have to. run home to see G. Moor on Business. But my Men will go to Woodbridge either by the Boat, or by Rail, so as to assist at the Shipwreck Dinner1 on Friday: and then will stay over Sunday at their homes. They had all ready to take some of the Ladies out yesterday: but Wind and Sea were rather too high: so I plunged out by myself for a few hours, to show them the Vessel wouldn't go down. I suppose to­ morrow they will get aboard, for the Weather seems taking up. Do give a Look at my Estate and Building now and then: I leave all Orders in your hands absolutely; knowing you will give better than I should myself, with all due consideration for Dove's feelings. Pray settle with him about the Top-knots to the Gables: he showed me some elaborate (and Cockney) samples in a Book of Designs; You know I would have the plainest, so in proportion; perhaps in this way:

which also Dove seemed well inclined to. And pray write me when you have spare time: and tell me your Throat is well: and remember me to Wife and Friends, etc., etc. E.FG. 1 Dinner

of the Woodbridge Shipwrecked Seamen's Benevolent Association.

July 1865

FitzGerald had paid summer visits to Lowestoft since childhood; after 1865 the town was his favorite coastal resort, rivaled for short periods by Aldeburgh and Dunwich. At Lowestoft he usually lodged with Miss Emily Green and her sister Becky at 12 Marine Terrace, al­ though he occasionally stopped at No. 11. The Terrace now fronts on London Road, North, and the rear of No. 12 is No. 130 of that thorough­ fare. The area toward the sea has been built upon, but in FitzGeralds day the Terrace commanded an unobstructed view of beach and sea.

To Mrs. W. K. Browne (Fragment) [11 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft] July 11,1865 . . . Not less do I thank you sincerely for what you say, than for the kindly reticence you have always shown in the matter of Mrs. E.F.G. You know well enough, from your own as well as your husband's knowledge of the case, that I am very much most to blame, both on the score of stupidity in taking so wrong a step, and want of coura­ geous principle in not making the best of it when taken. She has little to blame herself for except in fancying she knew both me and herself better than I had over and over again told her was the truth before marriage. Well, I won't say more. I think you will admit that she is far better oif than she was, and as I feel sure, ever would have been living with me. She was brought up to rule; and though I believe she would have submitted to be a slave, it would have been at too great a price to her, and I doubt no advantage to me. She now can take her own way, live where she likes, have what society she likes, etc., while, every year and every day I am creeping out of the world in my own way.

To Frederick Spalding 11 Marine Terrace: Lowestoft July 17, [1865] My dear Sir, I took up Pen and Paper to write you yesterday: but wrote to Mr. Manby instead. I was really sorry you took the Pains to write to me last Monday,

July 1865 after all the Heat and Worry of your Field-day. But I am always glad to hear from you, and obliged to you for writing. I sent Dove a line on Saturday, hinting that I took for granted that my House was not left at a dead stand-still: I took care not to hint that you had said anything on the Subject to me. As to the Top-knots, I wish you would decide for me at once: as I have hitherto found that you could decide for me in such matters better than I could for my­ self. I refer all such Decisions implicitly to you; you making it as palat­ able to Dove as you may. You have never advised me to anything, whether of Business or Taste, that I was not most satisfied with; and as I am myself apt to hesitate, I am very glad to rely on one who is not so. I ought to have had the Ducks sent for you to see before they were bought. Yes—I sent Newson and Cooper home to the Dinner: and supposing they would be maudlin on Saturday, gave them Sunday to repent on: and so have lost the only fine Days we have yet had for sailing. Today is a dead Calm. "These are my Trials!" as a fine Gentleman said to Wesley, when his Servant put rather too many Coals on the Fire.1 I shall be here certainly till the end of this week: possibly longer, if my Brother Peter and his Wife should continue to stay on. On Wednesday Donne comes to me for a Day. Why can't you come over one Day? I will find you Board and Bed; and you need not be afraid, I am sure, of any of my Kindred here. Think of this, and act on it, if you can. I may have to run to Woodbridge to confer with George Moor some one Day. Somehow, I always feel at home here: partly that the Place itself is very suited to me: I have known it these forty years, particularly con­ nected with my Sister Kerrich, whose Death has left a sort of sad interest shed over it. It was a mere Toss-up in 1860 whether I was to stay at Woodbridge, or come to reside here, where my residing would have been of some use to her then, and her Children now. Now then I am expecting my "Merry men" from Woodbridge to get out my Billyboy, and get into what Sailors call the Doldrums. Pray write to me when you have leisure: not otherwise: and, with kind Regards to Wife, believe me Yours very sincerely E.FG. There was a Cricket match here between Rifles and Townsmen on Saturday: but so bad (what I saw) that I did not stay half an hour. I suppose, Beginners.

August 1865 1 "A gentleman of large fortune, while we were seriously conversing, ordered a servant to throw some coals on the fire. A puff of smoke came out. He threw him­ self back in his chair, and cried out, Ό Mr. Wesley, these are the crosses I meet with every day!'" John Wesley, quoted by EFG in his Polonius, LXX.

To Frederick Spalding (Fragment) 3 Sion Hill, Ramsgate August 25/65

. . . I got here all right and very quick from our Harbour on Monday Morning. And here I shall be till Monday: then shall probably go with my Brother to Dover and Calais: and so hope to be home by the mid­ dle or later part of next week. . . . Today is going on a Regatta before the windows where I write: shall I never have done with these tire­ some Regattas? And tonight the Harbour is to be captured after an obstinate defence by 36-pounders in a sham fight, so we shall go deaf to Bed. We had really a famous sail from Felixtow Ferry; getting out of it at 7 A.M., and being off Broadstairs (three miles from here) as the clock on the shore struck twelve. After that we were an hour getting into this very Port, because of a strong Tide against us. . . .

To W. B. Donne Ramsgate August 27, [1865] My dear Donne,

Your letter found me here, where I have been a week cruising about with my old Brother Peter. Tomorrow we leave—for Calais, as we propose; just to touch French Soil, and drink a Bottle of French Wine in the old Town: then home again to Woodbridge as fast as we may. For thither goes William Airy, partly in hopes of meeting me: he says he is much shaken by the dangerous illness he had this last Spring: and thinks, truly enough, that our chances of meeting in this World sensibly diminish. You must not talk of my kindness to you at Lowestoft: when all

August 1865 the good is on your side, going out of your way to see me. Really it makes me ashamed. Together with your Letter, I found a very kind one from Mrs. Kemble, who took the trouble to write only to tell me how well she liked the Plays. I know that Good Nature would not affect her Judg­ ment (which I very honestly think too favourable), but it was Good Nature made her write to tell me. Don't forget to sound Murray1 at some good opportunity about a Selection from Crabbe. Of course he won't let me do it, though I could do it better than any he would be likely to employ: for you know I rely on my Appreciation of what others do, not on what I can do myself. The "Parcel" you write of has not been sent me here: but I shall find it when I return, and will write to you again. I puzzle my Brains to remember what the "Conscript" is. I have been reading, and reducing to one volume from two (more meo), a trashy Book, "Bernard's Recollections of the Stage,"2 with some good recollections of the Old Actors, up to Macklin and Garrick. But, of all people's, one can't trust Actors' Stories. In "Lethe,"3 where your Garrick figures in Sir Geoffrey, also figured Woodward, as "The Fine Gentleman"; so I think, at least, is the Title of a very capital mezzotint I have of him in Character. Oh! famous is your Story of Lord Chatham and the Bishops;4 be sure you set it afloat again in print. You don't tell me if Trench be recovered: but I shall conclude from your Silence that, at any rate, he is not now seriously ill. Now I hear my good Brother come in from Morning Mass, and we shall have Breakfast. He is really capital to sail about with. I read your letter yesterday while sitting out on a Bench with her—his Wife—a brave Woman, of the O'Dowd5 sort; and she wanted to know all about you and yours. We like Ramsgate very much: genial air: pleasant Country: good Harbour, Piers, etc.: and the Company, though over­ flowing, not showy, nor vulgar: but seemingly come to make the most of a Holiday. I am surprized how little of the Cockney, in its worse aspect, is to be seen. 1 John

Murray, publisher who held the copyright on Crabbe's works, had lost money on Crabbe and "would not meddle." 2 John Bernard, Retrospections of the Stage, edited by his son, William B. Bernard, 2 vols., 1830. 8 Lethe: or Esop in the Shades, a one-act satire by David Garrick, 1745. 4 "I have some glimmering idea," recalled Charles Donne, "that it was of Lord

September 1865 Chatham that my father told a story that when Lord C. met any Bishops, he bowed so low that you could see the peak of his nose between his legs" (Mow­ bray Donne letter to Aldis Wright, Trinity College MS). 5 The motherly, good-hearted, but forceful wife of an army major in Vanity Fair.

To E. B. Cowell Markethill: Woodbridge Sept r 5/65 My dear Cowell, Let me hear of you: I don't forget, though I don't see, you. Nor am I· so wrapt up in my Ship as not to have many a day on which I should be very glad to dispense with her and have you over here: but I can't well make sure what day: sometimes I ask one man to go, sometimes another, and so all is cut up. Besides, I was away six weeks in all at Lowestoft; then a fortnight at Ramsgate, Dover, Calais, etc. When the apple ipev&£Tat άκρω «τ* όσδω —then my Ship will be laid up, and one more Summer of mine departed, and then I hope you will come over to talk over many things. Read Lady Duff Gordon's Letters from Egypt:2 which you won't like, because of some latitude in Religious thought, and also because of some vulgar slang, such as Schoolboys, and American Women use, and it is now the bad fashion for even English Ladies to adopt. But the Book is worth reading notwithstanding this, and making allow­ ance for a Lady or Gentleman seeing all rose-colour in a new Pet or Plaything. On sending the Book back to the Library this morning I quote out of it something about Oriental Poetry which you may know well enough but I was not so conscious of. In a Love-song where the Lover declines a Physician for the wound which the Wind (Love) has caused, he says, "For only he who has hurt can cure me." "N.B. The masculine pronoun is always used instead of the feminine in Poetry, out of decorum: sometimes even in Conversation." (It being as for­ bidden to talk of women as to see them, etc.) I was very pleased with Calais, which remains the "vieille France" of my Childhood. Donne came to see me for a Day at Lowestoft, the same "vieil Donne" also of my Boyhood. Ever yours, E.FG. 1

September 1865 1 2

From Sappho. See letter from A. Tennyson, Nov. 12, [1846]. Edited by her mother, Sarah Austin, 1865.

To Frederick Spalding Lowestoft Sept. 20/ 65 Dear Mr. Spalding, I only wish you had had the first ordering of the Windows; for I am sure I shall dislike the thick woodwork in the middle. However, since you say the other windows are so begun, I won't alter: for I dread the fancy-price that is put on fancy alterations: especially when the Builder himself has been rather thwarted. Pray do what you will with the Grass. If it but pay the cost of mak­ ing, you are very welcome to it. I think I told you in my yesterday's letter that the Elsie1 had come in. She now lies alongside us; about to put to Sea with a Party: and I believe means to set out Woodbridge-wards tonight. I still think to be home by the end of the week: but am not certain: for the place is pleasanter than Markethill this very hot weather, and I do very well here altogether. But when my Brother has some Friends on a visit, I shall cut, as the Boys say—(N.B. I am not living in his house, but aboard.) I wrote, as I told you I would, to Dove; telling him that I left all decisions to you: not that I thought you, or myself, so good a Builder as himself: but that, whereas many tastes differ, I had found that yours and mine agreed in the matter in question and therefore I left it to you when I was absent, so long as you would be good enough to under­ take it. This, I hope, will soften, if it do not efface, any resentment in B.D.'s mind, or increase in his Bill. I am glad the "She M.D." gives good report of the Little one's foot. I hear Alfred Smith is very low at the death of his little Boy. Pray remember me to The Wife, and believe me ever yours E.FG. 1A

22-ton cutter owned by George Manby and two other Woodbridge mer­ chants, Thomas Silver and George Grimwood.

September 1865 To Ε. Β. Cowell (Fragment) [September, 1865] . . . had lately the pleasure of finding out what he1 believes to be the Original Portrait of Bacon: belonging to the Duke of Buccleugh, and now in the Kensington Museum. I have not read a word of any Book worth reading—except Crabbe —whom you don't think worth reading: but whom I have taken with me for my Ship-mate, now for a second Season. I wish Murray would let me make him a Selection: but of course he wouldn't. No one will let me do that one thing I can do well. Why, wouldn't you like—if not whole Tales—such passages as— As Men may Children at their Sports behold And smile to see them; though unmoved and cold, Smile at the recollected Games; and then Depart, and mix in the Affairs of Men: So Rachel looks upon the World, and sees It can no longer pain, no longer please, But just detain the passing Thought, and cause A transient smile of Pity, or Applause: And then the recollected Soil repairs Her slumbering Hope, and heeds her own Affairs.2 (or, if you will have a more cheerful Picture) Here on the Lawn your Boys and Girls shall run, And play their Gambols when the Lesson's done: There, from yon window, shall their Mother view The joyous tribe, and smile at all they do: While you, more gravely hiding your Delight, Shall cry "Oh Childish!"—and enjoy the Sight.3 Ever yours and Lady's E.FG. 1 Spedding. 2 The

concluding lines of "Smugglers and Poachers," in Crabbe's Tales of the Hall. EFG did not include the story in his Headings in Crabbe's "Tales of the Hall." 3From the closing portion of "The Visit Concluded," Tales of the Hall. The lines conclude EFG's Readings.

October 1865

To Ε. Β. Cowell Markethilh Woodbridge Octr 21/65 My dear Cowell, I had a Duck for you yesterday: though you wrote you would only come if the weather were fair; and fair it was not. I also thought of going for a Day or two into Norfolk this week: but, like you, I won't go if this rain holds. One is best at home. So I doubt the same weather that keeps me at home will keep you also. After this week I shall be at home anyhow: for Shooting parties begin at Geldestone: and I must be here to receive my Brother-in-law De Soyres. Indeed, I should be home again by Friday anyhow. It is really very good of you to come to me, ungrateful as I seem. You don't say anything of India: surely your Wife only hinted that to heap Coals of Fire on me. The Day after I had her Letter, I had one from Mrs. Tennyson; who tells me they have been in Belgium, and near a week at Waterloo: A.T. busy in the Field. So perhaps something will come of that—more stirring than Enoch Arden. Ever yours E.FG.

To Mrs. Tennyson Markethill, Woodbridge October 22165 Dear Mrs. Tennyson, I was thinking a few days ago that the time was coming round for my yearly Letter to my Friends. And now, for once, you have fore­ stalled me. I think I should write oftener but that People, who would yet be very glad to see one, I am sure, don't care to write Letters. You tell me of your travels to Waterloo, which I had not courage to visit in cold Blood some years ago:1 with a Party: sandwiches: hampers, etc. I have nothing to tell of myself: this summer being spent like many before, sailing about in my little Ship to Lowestoft, Dover, etc. Last year I got as far as Newhaven on my way to your Island: but did not

October 1865 care for the Cowes Regatta business, and so came back. This year I have been kept nearer home by one reason or another—oh, but I went to dear old Calais: which I found as I remembered it when a Child; near fifty years ago—much better than Paris—a bit of "vieille France" —only the Soldiers' red Breeches rather different, I think. Now my Ship is put up in mud for the Winter. And now for four or five months of Seacoal fires and gossiping Books for her noble owner. By the bye—talking of Ships—down at Felixstowe where my Ship lies, is also the larger ship of "Squire Allenby," with whom I have exchanged a word now and then, and no more. I heard he was rich, kind to the poor, etc., and also that he was in some Silk-mercery Business, of which I remember a Shop in Regent St., "Lewis & Allenby." However when I was sitting on board my own Ship a fortnight ago, down comes Allenby's Captain with a Message to me to go up to his "Governor's" at once to meet—Mrs. Cowell! This invitation I declined as usual. And then my Mrs. Cowell (who has been a Year and more at Ipswich—without our meeting) writes me one of her famous heroic Epistles (I don't mean this in a sarcastic way— she is always the same romantic Girl) about Allenby's being a Lincolnshire Man—well known to Tennysons, etc. So, "Why did not I go?" and "Why wouldn't I go?" —etc. "Hyman Allenby"2 is, I think, his Name. He seems a good-humoured Man: fond of Boating, fishing, shooting, etc.: and has (as also his Wife) a truly enviable character for his Goodness to the Poor. There­ fore it is they call him "Squire"—which I told him was but a bad Compliment: for Squire is but another name for Screw down about here. Now then—do you and Alfred know all about "Hyman Allenby?" Yours sincerely E.FG. P.S. Talking of Ships again: I liked much "The Captain" in the People's Alfred.3 Was the last Stanza (which I like also) an after­ thought? I think a really sublime thing is the End of Kingsley's West­ ward Ho\ (which I never could read through). The Chase of the Ships: the Hero's being struck blind at the moment of Revenge: then his being taken to see his Rival and Crew at the bottom of the Sea, etc. Kingsley is a distressing Writer to me; but I must think this (the in­ spiration of it) of a piece with Homer and the Gods—which you won't at all. I am ashamed of this writing.

November 1865 ι In 1856. 2 Hynman Allenby. 3 Published in Moxcm's Miniature Poets series, 1865. "The Captain" was one of six new poems in the volume.

To John Allen Markethill: Woodbridge Nov. 1/65 My dear Allen, Let me hear how you and yours are: it is now a long [time] since we exchanged Letters. G. Crabbe wrote me you were corresponding with a very different person: the Editor of the Times. I never see that nor any other Paper but the good old Athenaeum. G. Crabbe also said you were at the Norwich Congress. Then why didn't you come here? He said the Bishop of Oxford, whom he had never met before, met him at Lord Walsingham's, and shook him so cordially by the hand, and pressed him so for a visit to Oxford, that he (G.C.) rather thought he (Sam) deserved the Epithet usually added to his Name.1 Perhaps, however, the Bishop did feel for a Grandson of the Poet. I have no more to tell you of myself this past Summer than for so many Summers past. Only sailing about, Lowestoft, Ramsgate, Dover, Calais, etc. I was very pleased indeed with Calais; just as I remember it forty years ago except for the Soldiers' Uniform. Duncan wrote me not a very cheerful Letter some while ago: he was unwell, of Cold and rheumatism, I think. Of other Friends I know nothing: but am going to write my annual Letters to them. What a State of things to come to! How one used to wonder, hearing our predecessors talk in that way, something! But I don't think our suc­ cessors wonder if we talk so; for they seem to begin Life with indiffer­ ence, instead of ending it. My house is not yet finished: two rooms have taken about five months:2 which is not slow for Woodbridge. Today I have been catch­ ing Cold in looking at some Trees planted—"factura Nepotibus umbram."3 Now this precious Letter can't go tonight for want of Envelope; and in half an hour two Merchants are coming to eat Oysters and drink Burton ale. I would rather be alone, and smoke my one pipe in peace over one of Trollope's delightful Novels, "Can you forgive her?" Now, my dear Allen, here is enough of me, for your sake as well

November 1865 as mine. But let me hear something from you. All good Remembrances to the Wife and those of your Children who remember yours ever, E.FG. 1 In February, 1864, the judicial committee of the Privy Council reversed a decision in which the ecclesiastical Court of Arches had censured and penalized clergymen who had contributed to the controversial Essays and Reviews. The volume, it was charged, contained "teachings contrary to the doctrines . . . of the Church of England." In the course of a subsequent debate on the legality of the action taken by the clergy, initiated in the House of Lords by R. M. Milnes, Lord Houghton, the Lord Chancellor, who had handed down the opinion of the Privy Council, dismissed the synodical verdict as "a set of . . . well-lubricated words, but . . . a sentence so oily, so absurd, and so saponaceous that no one could grasp it" (Annual Register, 1864, "English History," pp. 156-57). Bishop Samuel Wilberforce, spokesman and leader of the clergy in the controversy, was known thereafter as "Soapy Sam." The Bishop supplied a different explanation for the nickname: "People call me Soapy Sam because I am often in hot water and always come out with my hands clean." His manner of speaking, it is said, was "persuasive and unctuous." 2 EFG added two living rooms and a toilet. 3 "which will make shade for my grandchildren."

To Thomas Carlyle Markethill: Woodbridge Nov. 2/65 Dear Carlyle,

You know you have a yearly Letter from me just to ask how you and Mrs. Carlyle are; where you have been during the Summer; and what you are about. So now you will have to write your annual An­ swer: which is to be the less difficult now that "Frederick" is done. Or, are you about something else which seems to you as desperate? I don't think you will undertake such a Job again: but surely we shall hear of you from time to time. I bought seven Volumes of Grimm's Correspondence1 for less than so many shillings a month ago: and have found them worth the money. He seems to me a more clear-sighted fellow than most of the "Philosophes" he admires so; but I may be very wrong. The accounts of Voltaire are capital. All which you know, and perhaps don't think capital at all. I won't pretend to tell you anything of myself, for there is nothing

November 1865 more to tell than has been for the last six years and more. I hear some­ times from Annie Thackeray. Mrs. Tennyson tells me that Alfred has been a week at Waterloo. I suppose you scarce ever see Spedding, who writes me an Answer about twice in the Year. Well—I only call on you once: so you must reply, and tell me all is well with you, as this World goes. Yours very sincerely Edward FitzGerald 1Friedrich Grimm (1723-1807), Correspondance litteraire, philosophique et critique.

To E. B. Cowell Woodbridge Novr 10/65 My dear Cowell, As you wrote of coming to Ipswich Today, I direct to you thither, and herewith enclose you a Letter from the Father of the Young Man who (I told you) wants to go to India. Now I never, as you know, wish you to come over here when not in all ways convenient to you. Whenever it is, you know you will gratify me by coming. Anyhow, you must see young Crowfoot1—for his Father's sake, if for no other's: one of the best of men. If you don't think you can fix to come over here some day that I can apprize him of, might he fix to go over to Ipswich and see you some day? This is to be exactly as you like and find convenient. I should even like to frank you with me to Beccles to see Crowfoot; who is worth knowing and seeing. It is but an hour and half from here. I wish you could let me have a line by return of Post, that I may let Crowfoot know. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 John Henchman Crowfoot, second son of William E. Crowfoot, Beccles physi­ cian. He took his degree at Oxford in 1864 and spent 1867-71 as a missionary in India. After returning to England, he was appointed tutor at the Lincoln Theo­ logical College and, in time, became vice-chancellor of Lincoln Cathedral.

December 1865

To John Allen [Woodbridge ] Dec r 3/65 My dear Allen, I enclose you two prints which may amuse you to look at and keep. I have a wonderful Museum of such Scraps of Portrait; about once a year a Man sends me a PortfoKo of such things. But my chief Article is Murderers;1 and I am now having a Newgate Calendar from London.2 I don't ever wish to see and hear these things tried; but, when they are in print, I like to sit in Court then, and see the Judges, Counsel, Prisoners, Crowd: hear the Lawyers' Objections, the Murmur in the Court, etc. The Charge is prepared; the Lawyers are met, The Judges are rang'd, a terrible show.3 De Soyres came here the other Day, and we were talking of you; he said you had invited Newman to your house. A brave thing, if you did. I think his Apology very noble; and himself quite honest, so far as he can see himself. The Passage in No. 7 of the Apology where he describes the State of the World as wholly irreflective of its Creator unless you turn—to Popery—is very grand. Now I probably shan't write to you again before Christmas: so let me wish you and Mrs. Allen and all your Family a Happy time of it. Ever yoiirs E.FG. I was very disappointed in Miss Berry's Correspondence;4 one sees a Woman of Sense, Taste, Good Breeding, and I suppose, Good Looks; but what more, to make three great Volumes of? Compare her with Trench's Mother. And with all her perpetual travels to improve health and spirits (which lasted perfectly well to near ninety) one would have been more interested if there were one single intimation of caring about any Body but herself, helping one poor Person, etc. I don't know if she or Mrs. Delany5 is dullest. 1 Two of EFG's scrapbooks in Christchurch Mansion Museum contain prints of criminals, murderers, prize fighters, and like characters—not a rogues' gallery solely, for the collection is leavened occasionally by pictures of the famous rather than the notorious. EFG supplied captions for many. Richard Parker, executed for mutiny in 1797, faces Tom Paine. Across the two pages EFG wrote, "Which of these two deserves hanging?" Below the print of Jack Randall is written, "Non­ pareil. Born in St. Giles: 1794. Height 5 ft. 6. Weight 10 st. 6." The Nonpareil con­ forms to the traditional veteran of ring warfare, with low brow and splayed nose.

December 1865 On the opposite page is a picture of Laurence Sterne, and below appears the request, "Compare this Sentimental Beast with the Prize-fighter." A print of Robert Peel on horseback has EFG's comment, "No wonder he got pitched off." Injuries suffered in a fall from his horse caused Peel's death. 2 The Newgate Calendar, of Malefactors' Bloody Register, 1770. Two more of the Calendars were published in 1826. 3 Sung by Macheath, the highwayman; John Gay's Beggars Opera, III. 1. i Extracts from the Journals and Correspondence of Miss Berry from 1783 to 1852, Lady Theresa Lewis, ed., 3 vols., 1865. Mary Berry (1763-1852), friend of Horace Walpole and editor of an edition of his works published in 1798. 5 Autobiography of Mary Delany, which he had read in January, 1862.

To E. B. Cowell [Woodbridge] [c. December 18,1865] My dear Cowell, I wrote to your Brother Charles for your new Address, and to ask if you be not coming hitherward this Xmas. Why, to be sure you must be! Well then, don't come without letting me know; and moreover coming over yourself, to show you are come. I want to hear about your new Engagement1 among other things. And I think you now shall find time to translate Mesnavi, the one Persian Book perhaps most worth translating, and hitherto untranslated. Groome sent me one of his Advocates; with a paper of yours in it,2 reminding me of what you told me, and what so much interested me, on your first Visit here after your return. The other day I was reading your last Letter before you started for India. Groome talks of coming over on Monday; but I suppose he is not certain: for I suppose it will be a busy week for Parsons. After enquiring for weeks of Loder here for a Copy of my Brother's Book about Mr. Charlesworth,3 he got me one just as George Crabbe was here; so I put it in his Pocket and wait for another. I don't know if it's good, or liked by the Family. Ever yours E.FG. 1 Cowell had been appointed examiner in Oriental subjects for the Civil Service Commission. 2 "Heathen and Christian Philosophy in India," Christian Advocate and Review, Feb., Apr., and Dec., 1865. 3 John FitzGerald's Quiet Worker for Good, a sketch of the life of Elizabeth Cowell's father, John Charlesworth, who had died in 1864.

December 1865

To Herman Biddell Woodbridge Christmas Day/65 My dear Biddell, All I know of the Second Burial1 is Thackeray's telling, or writing, me that nobody bought it—"wasn't it a shame?" Yes, I thought so; but Herman Biddell also wouldn't have bought it then, would he? You see the broad, fine humour soaks into the Good Soul at last. I always wondered why Thackeray hadn't it reprinted with the rest of his Works; but I forgot to tell him so. "Miss Smith" is nobody else than a generic middle-class Lady to whom "Michael Angelo Titmarsh," the Cockney, is supposed to address himself. But the little family Procession described as going to see the Show includes Thackeray's Mother, and Grandmother, with whom he and his Family were then residing in Paris. The delightful verses at the End2 are to his poor little Wife. Ah! this Day two years I was told of his Death. When you next come here (and you know I am always glad to see you) you must choose one of his Drawings: there is one framed that I should choose: inasmuch as I have chosen to frame it; but I can't calculate on your crotchety Taste, which I by no means wish to alter, if I could. But I believe you will one day wonder at some things you now like—I mean in matters of Pictures, etc. By the way, I have bought Mr. Loder's Cow, which I asked you to look at, and which I suppose you didn't like. It seems to me a very clever sketch: I begin to think perhaps by Cooper.3 Well—now let me sincerely wish you and yours a Happy Christmas —A Happy New Year. Ever yours E.FG. 1 The Second Funeral of Napoleon, first published in 1841, was reprinted in the January, 1866, issue of the Comhill Magazine. 2 The closing lines of the ballad, "The Chronicle of the Drum," added to later printings of the "Second Funeral." 3 Abraham Cooper (1787-1868), noted for his pictures of animals.

January 1866

To Ε. Β. Cowell Woodbridge Decr 26, [1865] My dear Cowell,

You know I shall be very glad if you can come here; but I say, as before and always, pray don't come to any inconvenience to yourself or your Family, who will want all they can of you. I did not know you had so many calls upon you in different direc­ tions; I mean editing for several Publishers, etc. Well; one helps an­ other, I suppose: and all bring Grist to the Mill; and I can't doubt but that something to your own Heart's Content will spring out of it all before long. I suppose you had a Letter I directed to you—a fortnight ago, I think. Not that I want you to answer when busy, etc., but that I wish you to know that I do write. R. Groome was here for a day—very pleasant—and talking of you. I am glad you think young Crowfoot promises well. Notes and Queries1 said the other Day that, according to Moham­ medan Legend, it was the Peacock who admitted the Snake into Eden —which made me think of the Mantic again. You must do the Mesnavi—our Persians will beat your Indians, I think; but there is no great compass in either as I believe. Love to the Lady: Happy Christmas! Happy New Year! Ever yours E.FG. 1 Third

series, Dec. 23,1865, pp. 528-29.

To Bernard Quaritch Markethill, Woodbridge Jan. 26/66 Dear Sir,

I enclose stamps for the Bill. But I don't think you have got all about Fualdes,1 your first Volume speaks (in its opening) of a former ac­ count published: and I think that in looking over hastily, I saw some­ thing about a third Volume besides the two published by "Pillet" which you send.

February 1866 The other Volume, "Coin du Voile leve," is probably a romance in the French taste. But a very few years ago some new particulars were found and pub­ lished about this wonderful Trial, which interests me from having occurred when I was a boy in France. Yours E. FitzGerald 1

The sensational murder of Antoine Fualdes, a retired magistrate of Rodez, France, in 1817, while the FitzGerald family was living in Paris. See letter to Fanny Kemble, [Nov., 1875].

To E. B. Cowell Woodbridge Feb. 1/66 My dear Cowell, Though I was very glad to hear of you, I am almost sorry you took the trouble to write, in the midst of all your Examinations. And now if you don't come down till Summer, why, I shall be out in my Ship again (perhaps you'll go a little cruise?). Well, anyhow you are not going back to India. Edmund Kerrich comes to me on Saturday (I believe) on his road to another medical Certificate in London; he is better, I hear; but, as this proves, not well. I do not believe he ever will be well enough for work in India again: the Kerriches, of all people, least endure any assault on the Brain. In writing to tell Quaritch not to send me his learned Catalogues, and to ask for a wonderful French Trial (which, of course, he found directly) I told him what I had heard from you a year ago. He replied that he had then just happened on some ten copies of Omar, which are quite enough for the present. I was looking over the old Fellow a few weeks ago, and saw where some things might be transposed, and some added; but one might not improve it after all. As to the Persian Text—you must edit that, as you know: if (as you think) easy for me, how very, very, easy for you! As to learning Arabic! Oh, Cowell! Ever yours E.FG.

March 1866

To Bernard Quaritch Markethill, Woodbridge Febr. 10/66 Dear Sir, Please to find, and send me, Pensees de Joubert1 published some twenty years ago. Yours E. FitzGerald 1Joseph

Joubert, French moralist (1754-1824), Pensees, essais, maximes et correspondance, 2 vols., 1842, edited by his nephew, Paul de Raynal.

To Joseph Fletcher, Sr. Markethill, Woodbridge March 1, [1866]1 Mr. Fletcher, Your little boy Posh2 came here yesterday, and is going tomorrow with Newson to Felixtow Ferry, for a day or two. In case he is wanted at Lowestoft to attend a Summons, or for any other purpose, please to write him a line, directing to him at Thomas Newsons Pilot Felixtow Ferry Ipswich Yours truly, Edward FitzGerald 1 EFG wrote to Mrs. Browne Aug. 10, 1867, that he had made Posh Fletcher's acquaintance "three years ago." James BIyth assigns the meeting to "the early summer of 1865," but speaks of this note of March 1 as having been written "soon after the meeting" (Blyth, FitzGerald and "Posh", 1908, pp. 32, 36). 2 See following text.

One summer day in 1864 Joseph Fletcher and his son, also Joseph but invariably called Posh, both fishermen of Lowestoft, had stopped at the home of their friend Tom Newson in Felixstowe Ferry. They were returning home from Harwich where, at the Coast Guard station,

March 1866

they had recovered the elder Fletcher's fishing punt, which had been stolen. FitzGerald was also at the Ferry to see his skipper that day, and Newson made him acquainted with the visitors. The Fletchers gained their livelihoods by fishing shallow, coastal waters. "I always like Sea­ faring People," FitzGerald had written when he turned to sailing for recreation. He respected sailors for their sturdy independence and the courage with which they faced the rugged life which was their lot. "When one is in London, one seems to see a decayed Race" he wrote from Lowestoft, "but here the old English Stuff." "Little boy Posh" was 25 years old at the time of the meeting. Sturdy, bearded, six feet tall, he resembled "one of those first British sent over to Rome—a very Human Savage'' Over the following two years, as acquaintance merged into friendship. Posh, to FitzGerald's eyes, became imbued with impressive attributes: "a grand, tender soul," the qualities of "a Gentleman of Nature's grandest Type," "alto­ gether the greatest man I have known." For ten years he played a large part in FitzGeralds life. In 1866 FitzGerald lent him £50, half the cost of a seaworn herring lugger, to enable him to engage in deep-sea fishing, and the following spring bore the expense of building, at Lowestoft, a new lugger which the two owned in partnership and which Posh commanded. "I want my Man there to prosper," FitzGerald wrote while the vessel was being built, "and yet to do so may spoil him for the simple Fisherman he is. . . . And he may fall, like Adam—if he get a taste of the Forbidden Fruit of Wealth." Posh man­ aged to gain only a small portion of the Forbidden Fruit but, as it proved, a share large enough to produce the result FitzGerald feared.

To W. H. Thompson Woodbridge March 15/66 My dear Thompson,

Today's Post brings me a Letter from Robert Groome, which tells me (on "Times" authority) that you are Master of Trinity. Judging by your last Letter, I suppose this was unexpected by your­ self. I have no means of knowing whether it was expected by others beside those who voted you to the Honovu:. For I had heard nothing further of the whole matter—even of Whewell's accident,1 than you yourself told me.

March 1866 Well—at our time of Life, any very vehement Congratulations are, I suppose, irrelevant on both sides. But I am very sure that I do con­ gratulate you heartily, if you are yourself gratified. Whether you are glad of the Post itself or not, you must, I think, be gratified with the Confidence in your Scholarship and Character which has made your Society elect you. And so far one may unreservedly congratulate you. I dare say you will have fifty Letters of the same sort laid on your Table with this. But I do not like not to add mine to the number. Of course you need not answer it; nay, I do not wish you to do so till you have leisure to write on that and other things, after the usual interval. I don't think you will have leisure for a Trip to the Bull Inn at present. It will always be open to you: but I shall understand you have other Fish to fry for some while. Today I was looking at the Carpenters, etc., carrying away Chips, etc., of a Tree I had cut down: and, coming home; read— Spvos πεσονσης πας άνηρ ^wAeverat2

Whose Line? Certainly not of Yoiu S ever sincerely, E.FG. I address you as before, not knowing properly how else. That, you shall tell me one day. -

1 William Whewell, former Master of Trinity, had died March 6 from the effects of a fall from a horse. 2 "When an oak tree has fallen, every man cuts wood." (Quoted by the Scholiast on Theocritus, v.65, found in the editions of the Paroemiographi Graeci by Thomas Gaisford and Ernest Ludwig von Leutsch.)

To John Allen Markethill: Woodbridge March 19, [1866] My dear Allen,

You shall hear a very little about me; and you shall tell me a very little about yourself? I forget when I last wrote to you, or heard from you: I suppose, about the end of Autumn. Here have I been ever since, without stirring further than Ipswich: and seeing nobody you know except R. Groome once. He wrote me the other day to announce that Thompson was Master of Trinity; an Honour quite unexpected by

March 1866 Thompson himself, I conclude, seeing that he himself had written to me only a Fortnight before, telling me of Whewell's Disaster, and sincerely hoping for his Recovery, from a Dread of a new King Log or King Stork,1 he said. He also said something of coming here at Easter: which now, I suppose, he won't be able to do. I have written to congratulate him in a sober way on his Honours; for, at our Time of Life, I think exultation would be unseasonable on either side. He will make a magnanimous Master, I believe; doing all the Honours of his Station well, if he have health. Spedding wrote me a kind long Letter some while ago. Duncan tells me Cameron2 has had a slight Paralysis. Death seems to rise like a Wall against one now whichever way one looks. When I read Boswell and other Memoirs now, what presses on me most is—All these people who talked and acted so busily are gone. It is said that when Talma3 advanced upon the Stage his Thought on facing the Audience was, that they were all soon to be Nothing. I bought Croker's Boswell; which I find good to refer to, but not to read; so hashed up it is with interpolations. Besides, one feels some­ how that a bad Fellow like Croker mars the Good Company he in­ troduces.4 One should stop with Malone,5 who was a good Gentleman: only rather too loyal to Johnson, and so unjust to any who dared hint a fault in him. Yet they were right. Madame D'Arblay, who was also so vext with Mrs. Piozzi, admits that she had a hard trial with Johnson in his last two years; so irritable and violent he became that she says People would not ask him when they invited all the rest of the Party. Why, my Paper is done, talking about these dead and gone whom you and I have only known in Print; and yet as well so as most we know in person. I really find my Society in such Books; all the People seem humming about me. But now let me hear of you, Allen: and of Wife and Family. Ever yours, E.FG. 1 In the fable of the frogs who wanted a king. Jupiter sent them a log, and they complained of its inertness. He sent them a stork, which devoured them. 2Jonathan Henry Cameron, a Trinity classmate, Rector of Shoreham, Kent. 3 Frangois Joseph Talma (1763-1826), French actor. 4 See letter to Barton, Sept. 24, 1846. 5Edmund MaIone (1741-1812), critic and author, who annotated four editions of Boswell's Life of Johnson.

March 1866

To Ε. Β. Cowell Markethilh Woodbridge March 20/66 My dear Cowell, Donne enquires in a letter I have from him Today where you are to be found. And I have positively lost the certainty of your Address— though I know so much as Haverstock Hill, Hampstead. I think "11, Maitland Terrace." But do you make all sure by letting Donne see, or hear of, you. I have told him that I know it is not from want of wishing to see him that you have yet not seen him—but that you are so busy you have scarce had time to come down to see your own kinsfolk here. But manage to see Donne. He has been busy too—and is—editing some Correspondence of George III1 which must be heavy work to do, and will be to read, I should think. I hope he will be well paid: else one will regret so much Time and Pains taken for such a Business. I don't ask you to write to me—nor even wish you to do so—while you are so busy. I have too good cause to feel assured that you always remember me more kindly than I deserve. I am not very well just now; I believe a Change would be a good thing—in some respects—but, again, not in others. So I must let be. Love to the Lady, ever hers and yours, E.FG. 1 Correspondence of George 111 with Lord North, 2 vols., 1867, edited at the command of Queen Victoria.

To W. H. Thompson MarkethiU: Woodbridge [March, 1866] My dear Thompson, I should write "My dear Master" but I don't know if you are yet installed. However, I suppose my Letter, so addressed, will find you and not the Old Lion now stalking in the Shades. I heard a word of you from Allen some weeks ago, by Letter: and from Pollock a fortnight ago, by Word of Mouth. Yes, for I had gone to London (first Appearance there these two years) by early Train to look out some Goods for my House, and was tearing up Holborn,

March 1866

when he—Pollock—very kindly arrested me in his Progress to Chancery Lane, and (as I was in a hurry) walked back some way with me, and told me a little of him and his, and you, and Spedding, and Donne. The Latter I doubt is overdoing himself with Review work. Can't you find something for his Son Charles?1 He would make a gentlemanly, respectable Rector in some Place where People are not very ambitious of Grace: of which we have seen enough, I think, in our Generation. I mean only that, after all, we have seen the old respectable Divine work best in the long run. I don't suppose you can help in the matter, neither: but Charles, who may be safely recom­ mended so far as I say, is, with Wife and Children, a heavy Drag upon his Father, who will one day drop down in his Harness. In burning up a heap of old Letters, which one's Executors and Heirs would make little of, I came upon several of Morton's from Italy: so good in Parts that I have copied those Parts into a Blank Book. When he was in his money Troubles I did the same from many other of his Letters, and Thackeray asked Blackwood to give £10 for them for his Magazine. But we heard no more of them. I have the usual Story to tell of myself: middling well: still here, pottering about my House, in which I expect an invalid Niece; and preparing for my Ship in June. W. Airy talks of coming to me soon. I am daily expecting the Death of a Sister in law,2 a right good Crea­ ture, who I thought would outlive me a dozen years, and should rejoice if she could. Things look serious about one—if one only could escape easily and at once! For I think the Fun is over: but that should not be. May you flourish in your high Place, my dear Master (now I say) for this long while. Ever yours E.FG. 1 Later in the year Charles was named Vicar of Faversham, Kent, a living he held until 1900. 2 Peter's wife.

To Frederick Spalding (Fragment) 11 Marine Terrace, Lowestoft March 28, 1866 . . . The change has been of some use, I think, in brightening me. My long solitary habit of Life now begins to tell upon me, and I am

April 1866 got past the very cure which only could counteract it: Company or Society: of which I have lost the Taste too long to endure again. So, as I have made my Bed, I must lie in it—and die in it. . . ."

To Frederick Spalding (Fragment) Lowestoft April 2, 1866

. . . I am going to be here another week: as I think it really has freshened me up a bit. Especially going out in a Boat with my good Fletcher, though I get perished with the N.E. wind. I believe I never shall do unless in a Lodging, as I have lived these forty years. It is too late, I doubt, to reform in a House of one's own. . . . Dove, un­ like Noah's Dove, brings no report of a green leaf when I ask him about the Grass seed....

To Frederick Spalding Lowestoft April 3, [1866] Dear Sir,

Either you, or Mr. Manby, wrote or told me that the Sale of Furni­ ture should be tomorrow. I have seen no Newspaper nor Catalogue. Whenever it takes place, I want one Article: a sort of Bronze and Glass thing (perhaps originally made for Gold Fish) which stood on the Table in Mr. Churchyard's Drawing room and held some Papers. You will remember it, I dare say: and in case you are not at the Sale, I should be obliged to you to ask some one to buy it for me. I don't like to trouble Mr. Moulton1 again: especially having blundered with the Commission I wrote him before. Mr. Berry writes that he could see no Vestige of Grass on Good Friday; and Benjamin Dove (somehow those two names do not har­ monize ) gave no more promising Account. But I shall fix my hopes on yours. I hear nothing this morning of Mrs. Manby's coming. I only hope she does not continue ill, though she may not be strong enough to venture

April 1866 moving from her own comfortable home to a Lodging. I wish she could do so, however: as that would both prove she was recovering, and enable me to be of a little service to one who, beside her other domestic merits, is very kind to me. She always reminds me somewhat of my Sister Kerrich—whose Memory hangs about this Place. Looking over the Tombstones of the old Churchyard this morning, I observed how very many announced the Lease of Life expired at about the same Date which I entered upon last Saturday. I know it is time to set one's House in order—when Mr. Dove has done his part. Meanwhile, I am yours sincerely E.FG. 1 Benjamin

Moulton, Woodbridge auctioneer.

To Frederick Spalding Lowestoft Tuesday [April 10,1866] Dear Sir, In case you should go to the Furniture Sale (don't go on purpose for me) I will give you carte-hlanche to buy me anything you think I want for my House, which I can pick up here suitable and cheap. You know my tastes: I don't suppose there is much for Ornament in any of the Things; but Bed Chamber Things (I don't mean Pots, etc.) might come in, so as not to have to begin a thorough Equipment here­ after. Especially as I like Odds and Ends you know. I have marked a few Articles which you can see if they would be suitable: I can't judge, not seeing. Though I don't want for Show, I don't want ugly and vulgar things anywhere; and I am sure you would never think of them. But, as I began with, don't go on my account: I only say and mark all this in case you should go for any other Purpose. All these things are to be got new or second hand any day anywhere. I suppose the Glass and Bronze Thing I wanted is retained by the Family. Yesterday was even worse here than Sunday. Today is dull, but there is a Shreep1 now and then. No Wind: so I don't know if Posh will get me out in his Boat. I took him yesterday half the Beef you left and that Mr. Loder couldn't help me off with: I dared not send him all, for Becky2 turned rather sharp upon the matter: so she has her Share. I believe she's a Sharp.

May 1866 Even Mr. Berry now confesses that the Grass shows a little Beard. I shall send a Hamper of Flowers in the course of the week: and I dare say be home by the End of it. But I want Dove to have done, and the Grass visible. Yours truly, E.FG. Thank Mr. Loder for his last kind Note: but tell him I shall never write him again unless he addresses me as I address him: as so old a Friend should. 1A 2

partial clearing. His landlady at Lowestoft.

To Posh Fletcher MarkethiU, Woodbridge Saturday [May, 1866] My good Fellow,

When I came in from my Boat yesterday I found your Hamper of Fish. Mr. Manby has his Conger Eel: I gave the Codling to a young Gentleman in his ninetieth year: the Plaice we have eaten here—very good—and the Skaite I have just sent in my Boat down to Newson. I should have gone down myself, but that it set in for rain; but, at the same time, I did not wish to let the Fish miss his mark. Newson was here two days ago, well and jolly; his Smack had a good Thing on the Ship-wash lately; and altogether they have done pretty well this Winter. He is about beginning to paint my Great Ship. I had your Letter about Nets and Dan.1 You must not pretend you can't write as good a Letter as a man needs to write, or to read. I suppose the Nets were cheap if good; and I should be sorry you had not bought more, but that, when you have got a Fleet for alongshore fishing, then you will forsake them for some Lugger; and then I shall have to find another Posh to dabble about, and smoke a pipe, with. George Howe's Schooner ran down the Slips into the Water yesterday, just as I was in time to see her Masts slipping along. In the Evening she bent a new Mainsail. I doubt she will turn out a dear Bargain, after all, as such Bargains are sure to. I was looking at the Whaleboat I told you of, but Mr. Manby thinks she would . . .2 you propose.

May 1866 Here is a long Yarn; but tomorrow is Sunday; so you can take it easy. And so "Fare ye well." Edward FitzGerald 1 A small buoy "with an ensign atop" to mark where fishing lines and nets have been set. 2 Indecipherable; paper mildewed.

To George Moor [May 22,1866] NOTES FOR WILL

V The Revd George Crabbe—Merton—Norfolk xecutors jj^ev