This reminded me that Tennyson once said to me, some thirty years ago, or more, in talking of Marvell's 'Coy Mistress,' where it breaks in--

But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near, etc.

'_That_ strikes me as Sublime, I can hardly tell why. Of course, this partly depends on its place in the Poem.

Apropos of the Woodp.e.c.k.e.r, a Clergyman near here was telling our Bookseller Loder, that, in one of his Parishioners' Cottages, he observed a dried Woodp.e.c.k.e.r hung up to the Ceiling indoors; and was told that it always pointed with its Bill to the Quarter whence the Wind blew.

_To Miss Anna Biddell_.

WOODBRIDGE. _Feb._ 22, [1872].

. . . I have lost the Boy who read to me so long and so profitably: and now have another; a much better Scholar, but not half so agreeable or amusing a Reader as his Predecessor. We go through Tichborne without missing a Syllable, and, when Tichborne is not long enough, we take to Lothair! which has entertained me well. So far as I know of the matter, his pictures of the manners of English High Life are good: Lothair himself I do not care for, nor for the more romantic parts, Theodora, etc. Altogether the Book is like a pleasant Magic Lantern: when it is over, I shall forget it: and shall want to return to what I do not forget, some of Thackeray's monumental Figures of 'pauvre et triste Humanite,' as old Napoleon called it: Humanity in its Depths, not in its superficial Appearances.

_To W. F. Pollock_.

THE OLD PLACE, _Feb._ 25/72.

. . . Aldis Wright must be right about 'sear' {135a}--French _serre_ he says. What a pity that Spedding has not employed some of the forty years he has lost in washing his Blackamoor in helping an Edition of Shakespeare, though not in the way of these minute archaeologic Questions! I never heard him read a page but he threw some new Light upon it. When you see him pray tell him I do not write to him, because I judge from experience that it is a labour to him to answer, unless it were to do me any service I asked of him except to tell me of himself.

My heart leaped when the Boy read me the Attorney General's Quotation from A. T. {135b}

_From T. Carlyle_.

CHELSEA, 15, _June_, 1872.

DEAR FITZGERALD,

I am glad that you are astir on the Naseby-Monument question; and that the auspices are so favourable. This welcome 'Agent,' so willing and beneficent, will contrive, I hope, to spare you a good deal of the trouble,--except indeed that of seeing with your own eyes that the Stone is put in its right place, and the number of 'yards rearward' is exactly given.

I think the Inscription will do; and as to the shape, etc., of the monument, I have nothing to advise,--except that I think it ought to be of the most perfect _simplicity_, and should {136} go direct to its object and punctually stop there. A small block of Portland stone--(Portland excels all stones in the world for durability and capacity for taking an exact inscription)--block of Portland stone of size to contain the words and allow itself to be sunk firmly in the ground; to me it could have no other good quality whatever; and I should not care if the stone on three sides of it were squared with the hammer merely, and only _polished_ on its front or fourth side where the letters are to be.

In short I wish _you_ my dear friend to take charge of this pious act in all its details; considering me to be loyally pa.s.sive to whatever you decide on respecting it. If on those terms you will let me bear half the expense and flatter myself that in this easy way I have gone halves with you in this small altogether genuine piece of patriotism, I shall be extremely obliged to you.

Pollock has told you an altogether flattering tale about my strength, as it is nearly impossible for any person still on his feet to be more completely useless.

Yours ever truly,

T. CARLYLE.

J. A. Froude (just come to walk with me) _scripsit_.

_To W. F. Pollock_.

WOODBRIDGE, _June_ 16, [1872].

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

Some forty years ago there was a set of Lithograph Outlines from Hayter's Sketches of Pasta in Medea: caricature things, though done in earnest by a Man who had none of the Genius of the Model he admired. Looking at them now people who never saw the Original will wonder perhaps that Talma and Mrs. Siddons should have said that they might go to learn of Her: and indeed it was only the Living Genius and Pa.s.sion of the Woman herself that could have inspired and exalted, and enlarged her very incomplete Person (as it did her Voice) into the Grandeur, as well as the _Niobe_ Pathos, of her Action and Utterance. All the n.o.bler features of Humanity she had indeed: finely shaped Head, Neck, Bust, and Arms: all finely related to one another: the superior Features too of the Face fine: Eyes, Eyebrows--I remember Trelawny saying they reminded him of those in the East--the Nose not so fine: but the whole Face 'h.o.m.ogeneous' as Lavater calls it, and capable of all expression, from Tragedy to Farce. For I have seen her in the 'Prova d' un' Opera Seria,' where no one, I believe, admired her but myself, except Thomas Moore, whose Journal long after published revealed to me one who thought,--yes, and _knew_--as I did.

Well, these Lithographs are as mere Skeleton Outlines of the living Woman, but I suppose the only things now to give an Idea of her, I have been a dozen years looking out for a Copy.

I think I love the Haymarket as much as any part of London because of the Little Theatre where Vestris used to sing 'Cherry Ripe' in her prime: and (soon after) because of the old Bills on the opposite Colonnade: 'MEDEA IN CORINTO. Medea, _Signora Pasta_.' You know what she said, to the Confusion of all aesthetic People, one of whom said to her, 'sans doute vous avez beaucoup etudie l'Antique?' 'Peut-etre je l'ai beaucoup senti.'

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

I have remembered, since last writing to you, that the Hayter Sketches were published by d.i.c.kenson of Bond Street, about 1825-6, I fancy. I have tried to get them, and all but succeeded two years ago. I am afraid they would give you and Miss Bateman the impression that Pasta played the Virago: which was not so at all. Her scene with her Children was among the finest of all: and it was well known at the time how deeply she felt it. But I suppose the stronger Situations offered better opportunities for the pencil, such a pencil as Hayter's. I used to admire as much as anything her Att.i.tude and Air as she stood at the side of the Stage when Jason's Bridal Procession came on: motionless, with one finger in her golden girdle: a habit which (I heard) she inherited from Gra.s.sini. The finest thing to me in Pasta's Semiramide was her simple Action of touching Arsace's Shoulder when she chose him for husband. She was always dignified in the midst of her Pa.s.sion: never scolded as her Caricature Grisi did. And I remember her curbing her Arsace's redundant Action by taking hold of her (Arsace's) hands, Arsace being played by Brambilla, who was (I think) Pasta's Niece. {139a}

WOODBRIDGE, _July_ 4/72.

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

I like your Fraser Paper very much, and recognised some points we had talked of together, {139b} but nothing that I can claim as my own. I suppose that I think on these points as very many educated men do think; I mean as to Principles of Art. I am not sure I understand your word 'Imagination' as opposed to realistic (d---d word) detail at p. 26, but I suppose I suppose I know what is meant, nevertheless, and agree with that. Is the Prophet of p. 24 _Gurlyle_? {139c} I think so. The fine head of him which figures as Frontispiece to the People's Edition of Sartor made me think of a sad Old Prophet; so that I bought the Book for the Portrait only.

The 'Brown Umbrella' pleased me greatly.

Well; and I thought there were other Papers in Fraser which made me think that, on the whole, I would take in Fraser rather than the Cornhill which you advised. Perhaps I am just now out of tune for Novels; whether that be so or not, I don't get an Appet.i.te for Annie Thackeray's {140} from the two Numbers I have had.

And here is Spedding's vol. vi. which leaves me much where it found me about Bacon: but though I scarce care for him, I can read old Spedding's pleading for him for ever; that is, old Spedding's simple statement of the case, as he sees it. The Ralegh Business is quite delightful, better than Old Kensington.

Then I have bought 3 vols of the '_Ladies Magazine_' for 1750-3 by 'Jasper Goodwill' who died at Vol. iv. It contains the Trials and Executions (16 men at a time) of the time; _Miss Blandy_ above all; and such delightful Essays, Poems, and Enigmas, for _Ladies_! The Allegories are in the Ra.s.selas style, all Oriental. The Essays 'of all the Virtues which adorn, etc.' Then Anecdotes of the Day: as of a Country woman in St. James' Park taking on because she cannot go home till she has kissed the King's hand: one of the Park keepers tells one of the Pages, who tells the King, who has the Woman in to kiss his hand, and take some money beside. One wonders there weren't heaps of such loyal Subjects.

Mowbray Donne wrote me that he sent you the Fragments I had saved and transcribed of Morton's Letters; the best part having been lost by Blackwood's People thirty years ago, as I believe I told you. But don't you think what remains capital? I wish you would get them put into some Magazine, just for the sake of some of our Day getting them in Print. You might just put a word of Preface as to the Author: an Irish Gentleman, of Estate and Fortune (which of course went the Irish way), who was Scholar, Artist, Newspaper Correspondent, etc. A dozen lines would tell all that is wanted, naming no names. It might be called 'Fragments of Letters by an "Ill-starred" or "Unlucky" Man of Genius,' etc. as S. M. was: 'Unlucky' being still used in Suffolk, with something of Ancient Greek meaning. See if you cannot get this done, will you? For I think many of S. M.'s friends would be glad of it: and the general Public a.s.suredly not the worse. Some of the names would need some correction, I think: and the Letters to be put in order of Time. {141a} 'Do it!' as Julia in the Hunchback says.

[1872.]

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

I went to London at the end of last week, on my way to Sydenham, where my second Brother is staying, whom I had not seen these six years, nor his Wife. . . . On Sat.u.r.day I went to the Academy, for little else but to see Millais, and to disagree with you about him! I thought his three Women and his Highlanders brave pictures, which you think also; but braver than you think them. The Women looked alive: the right Eye so much smaller than the left in the Figure looking at you that I suppose it was so in the original, so that I should have chosen one of the other Sisters for the position. I could not see any a.n.a.logy between the Picture and Sir Joshua's Graces, except that there were Three. Nor could I think the Highlanders in the Landscape vulgar; they seemed to me in character with the Landscape. Both Pictures want tone, which may mean Glazing: wanting which they may last the longer, and sober down of themselves without the danger of cracking by any transparent Colour laid over them.

I scarce looked at anything else, not having much time. Just as I was going out, who should come up to me but Annie Thackeray, who took my hands as really glad to see her Father's old friend. I am sure she was; and I was taken aback somehow; and, out of sheer awkwardness, began to tell her that I didn't care for her new Novel! And then, after she had left her Party to come to me, I ran off! It is true, I had to be back at Sydenham: but it would have been better to forgo all that: and so I reflected when I had got halfway down Piccadilly: and so ran back, and went into the Academy again: but could not find A. T. She told me she was going to Normandy this week: and I have been so vext with myself that I have written to tell her something of what I have told you. It was very stupid indeed.

WOODBRIDGE: _November_ 1, [1872].

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

The Spectator, as also the Athenaeum, somewhat over-praise Gareth, I think: but I am glad they do so. . . . The Poem seems to me scarce more worthy of what A. T. was born to do than the other Idylls; but you will almost think it is out of contradiction that I like it better: except, of course, the original Morte. The Story of this young Knight, who can submit and conquer and do all the Devoir of Chivalry, interests me much more than the Enids, Lily Maids, etc. of former Volumes. But Time _is_--Time _was_--to have done with the whole Concern: pure and n.o.ble as all is, and in parts more beautiful than any one else can do. . . .

Rain--Rain--Rain! What will become of poor Italy? I think we ought to subscribe for her. Did you read of one French Caricature of the Pope leaving Rome with the Holy Ghost in a Bird Cage?

WOODBRIDGE, _Nov._ 20.

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

I am glad the Rogers Verses {144} gratified you. I forget where I saw them quoted, some ten years ago; but as I had long wished for them myself, and thought others might wish for them also, I got them reprinted here in the form I sent you. . . . I have no compunction at all in reviving this Satire upon the old Banker, whom it is only paying off in his own Coin. Spedding (of course) used to deny that R. deserved his ill Reputation: but I never heard any one else deny it. All his little malignities, unless the epigram on Ward be his, are dead along with his little sentimentalities; while Byron's Scourge hangs over his Memory. The only one who, so far as I have seen, has given any idea of his little cavilling style, is Mrs. Trench in her Letters; her excellent Letters, so far as I can see and judge, next best to Walpole and Cowper in our Language. . . .

I have bought Regnard, of the old Moliere times, very good; and (what is always odd to me) as French as the French of To-day: I mean, in point of Language.

[_Nov._ 1872.]