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 n.o.ble; and himself quite honest, so far as he can see himself. The Pa.s.sage 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 sha'n't write to you again before Christmas: so let me wish you and Mrs. Allen and your Family a Happy time of it.

Ever yours, E. F. G.

I was very disappointed in Miss Berry's Correspondence; 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. Delany is dullest.

_To W. H. Thompson_.

WOODBRIDGE: _March_ 15/66.

MY DEAR THOMPSON,

To-day'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 yourself: I have no means of knowing whether it was expected by others beside those who voted you to the Honour. For I had heard nothing further of the whole matter, even of Whewell's accident, than you yourself told me. Well, at our time of Life, any very vehement Congratulations are, I suppose, irrelevant on both sides. But I am very sure I do congratulate 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. . . .

To-day I was looking at the Carpenters, etc., carrying away Chips, etc., of a Tree I had cut down: and, coming home, read--

[Greek text] {74}--

Whose Line?--Certainly not of

Yours ever sincerely, E. F. G.

_To John Allen_.

MARKET HILL: 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 n.o.body 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 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, 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 Cameron 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 Talma 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 somehow that a bad Fellow like Croker mars the Good Company he introduces. One should stop with Malone, 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 time 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. F. G.

_To W. H. Thompson_.

MARKET HILL, 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. . . .

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 ten pounds 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. William Airy talks of coming to me soon.

I am daily expecting the Death of a Sister in law, a right good Creature, 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.

[_June_, 1866.]

MY DEAR THOMPSON,

I won't say that I should have gone to Ely under any Circ.u.mstances, though it is the last Place I have been to stay at with a Friend: three years ago! And all my Stays there were very pleasant indeed: and I do not the less thank you for all your Constancy and Kindness. But one is got down yet deeper in one's Way of Life: of which enough has been said.

William Airy was to have come here about this time: and him I am obliged to put off because another old Fellow Collegian, Duncan, {77} who has scarce stirred from his Dorsetshire Parsonage these twenty years, was seized with a Pa.s.sion to see me just once more, he says: and he is now with me: a Hypochondriack Man, nervous, and restless, with a vast deal of uncouth Humour. . . .

My Ship is afloat, with a new Irish Ensign; but I have scarce been about with her yet owing to 'Mr. Wesley's Troubles.' {78a}

Only yesterday I took down my little Tauchnitz Sophocles to carry to Sea with me; and made Duncan here read--

[Greek text], {78b} etc.

and began to blubber a little at

[Greek text], etc.

in the other Great Play. {78c} The Elgin Marbles, and something more, began to pa.s.s before my Eyes.

I believe I write all this knowing you are at Ely: where I suppose you are more at Leisure than on your Throne in Trinity. But no doubt your Tyranny follows you there too; post Equitem and all.

_To E. B. Cowell_.

WOODBRIDGE: Friday [_June_, 1866].

MY DEAR COWELL,

I got your new Address from your Brother a Fortnight ago. You don't write to me for the very good reason that you have so much to do: I don't write to you because I have nothing to do, and so nothing to tell you of.

My idle reading all goes down to a few Memoirs and such things: I am not got down to Miss Braddon and Mrs. Wood yet, and I believe never shall: not that I think this a merit: for it would show more Elasticity of Mind to find out and make something out of the Genius in them. But it is too late for me to try and retrace the 'Salle des pas perdus' of years; I have not been very well, and more and more 'smell the Mould above the Rose' as Hood wrote of himself. But I don't want to talk of this.

You are very good to talk of sparing a Day for me when you come down. I will be sure to be at home any Day, or Days, next week. I can give you Bed and Board as you know: and a Boat Sail on the River if you like. Why I don't go over to you I have written and spoken of enough--all I can, if not satisfactorily: only don't think it is indolence, Neglect, or Distaste for you, or any of yours. . . .

I haven't, I think, taken in your Sanskrit morsel as yet, for I am called about this morning on some Furniture Errands: and yet I want to post this Letter To-day that you may have it this week.

I still think I shall take a Tauchnitz Sophocles with me to Sea, once more to read the two OEdipuses, and Philoctetes; perhaps more carefully than before; perhaps not! It is stupid not to get up those three n.o.ble Pieces as well as one can.

I have not yet done my house: and, when I write of Furniture, it is because I want to get so much ready as will suffice for an Invalid Niece who wishes to come with her Maid by the End of June, or the Beginning of July. Your old opposite Neighbour Mason is my Apollo in these matters: I find him a very clever Fellow, and so well inclined to me that every one else says he can scarce make money of what he sells me. He has _humour_ too.

I think you and Elizabeth should one day come and stay in this new House, which will be really very pleasant. As far as I am concerned, I sha'n't have much to do with it, I believe; but some one will inherit, and--sell it!

I want you to choose a Lot of my Things to be bequeathed you: Books, Pictures, Furniture. You mustn't think I prematurely deck myself in Sables for my own Funeral; but it happens that I sent the rough Draft of a Will to my Lawyer only three days ago.