Letters of Edward FitzGerald Volume II Part 6

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 n.o.body reads it! Ever yours,

E. F. G.

_To Mrs. Cowell_.

[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.

E. B. C. is quite right about obscurity of Phrase: which is inexcusable unless where the Pa.s.sion 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 t.i.tanic old Soul so resolutely blind to the Philosophy of the Day.

Oh, I think England would be much better for E. B. C. 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, meanwhile, 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 s.h.i.+nes, and though it blows from the West. So we are all better at our homes for the present.

Ever yours, E. F. G.

_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. To morrow 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 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 Judgment (which I very honestly think too favourable), but it was Good Nature made her write to tell me.

Don't forget to sound Murray 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,' 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,' where your Garrick figures in Sir Geoffrey, also figured Woodward, as 'The Fine Gentleman'; so I think, at least, is the t.i.tle of a very capital mezzotint I have of him in Character,

Oh! famous is your Story of Lord Chatham and the Bishops; {68} 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 Ma.s.s, 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'Dowd 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 overflowing, not showy, nor vulgar: but seemingly come to make the most of a Holiday. I am surprized how little of the c.o.c.kney, in its worse aspect, is to be seen.

_To E. B. Cowell_.

MARKET HILL: WOODBRIDGE.

_Septr._ 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 s.h.i.+p 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 [Greek text]

{69a}--then my s.h.i.+p 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: which you won't like, because of some lat.i.tude in Religious thought, and also because of some vulgar _slang_, such as Schoolboys, and American Women use, and it is now the bad fas.h.i.+on for even English Ladies to adopt. But the Book is worth reading notwithstanding this, and making allowance 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 p.r.o.noun is always used instead of the feminine in Poetry, out of decorum: sometimes even in conversation.' {69b} (It being as forbidden 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. F. G.

_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. 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 successors wonder if we talk so; for they seem to begin Life with indifference, instead of ending it.

My house is not yet finished: two rooms have taken about five months: which is not slow for Woodbridge. To day I have been catching Cold in looking at some Trees planted--'factura Nepotibus umbram.'

Now this precious Letter can't go to-night 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 own 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 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. F. G.

[WOODBRIDGE]

_Decr._ 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 sc.r.a.ps of Portrait; about once a year a Man sends me a Portfolio of such things. But my chief Article is Murderers; and I am now having a Newgate Calendar from London. 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.