In May 1877 his old boatman West died and FitzGerald wrote to Professor Cowell, 'I have not had heart to go on our river since the death of my old Companion West, with whom I had traversed reach after reach for these dozen years. I am almost as averse to them now as Peter Grimes. {217} So now I content myself with the River Side.'

_To W. A. Wright_.

LITTLE GRANGE, WOODBRIDGE.

_June_ 23/77.

MY DEAR WRIGHT,

. . . I have been regaling myself, in my unscholarly way, with Mr.

Munro's admirable Lucretius. Surely, it must be one of the most admirable Editions of a Cla.s.sic ever made! I don't understand the Latin punctuation, but I dare say there is good reason for it. The English Translation reads very fine to me: I think I should have thought so independent of the original: all except the dry theoretic System, which I must say I do all but skip in the Latin. Yet I venerate the earnestness of the man, and the power with which he makes some music even from his hardest Atoms; a very different Didactic from Virgil, whose Georgics, _quoad_ Georgics, are what every man, woman, and child, must have known; but, his Teaching apart, no one loves him better than I do. I forget if Lucretius is in Dante: he should have been the Guide thro' h.e.l.l: but perhaps he was too deep in it to get out for a Holiday. That is a very n.o.ble Poussin Landscape, v. 1370-8 'Inque dies magis, etc.'

I had always observed that mournful '_Nequicquam_' which comes to throw cold water on us after a little glow of Hope. When Tennyson went with me to Harwich, I was pointing out an old Collier rolling by to the tune of

Trudit agens magnam magno molimine navem. [iv. 902.]

That word '_Magnus_' rules in Lucretius as much as 'Nequicquam.' I was rejoiced to meet Tennyson quoted in the notes too, and my old Montaigne who discourses so on the text of

Pascit amore avidos inhians in te, Dea, visus. [i. 36.]

Ask Mr. Munro, when he reprints, to quote old Montaigne's Version of

Nam verae voces tum demum, etc. [iii. 57.]

'A ce dernier rolle de la Mort, et de nous, il n'y a plus que feindre, il faut parler Francais; il faut montrer ce qu'il y a de bon et de net dans le fond du pot.' {219a} And tell him (d.a.m.n my impudence!) I don't like my old Fathers '_dancing_' under the yellow and ferruginous awnings.

{219b} . . .

There is a coincidence with Bacon in verses 1026-9 of Book II.

(Lucretius, I mean).

_To John Allen_.

MY DEAR ARCHDEACON,

I have little else to send you in reply to your letter (which I believe however was in reply to one of mine) except the enclosed from Notes and Queries: which I think you will like to read, and to return to me.

I think I will send you (when I can lay hand on it) two volumes of some one's Memorials of Wesley's Family: which you can look over, if you do not read, and return to me also. I wonder at your writing to me that I gave you his Journal so long as thirty years ago. I scarce knew that I was so constant in my Affections: and yet I think I do _not_ change in literary cases. Pray read Southey's Life of him again: it does not tell all, I think, which might be told of Wesley's own character from his own Mouth: but then it errs on the right side: it does not presumptuously guess at Qualities and Motives which are not to be found in Wesley: unlike Carlyle and the modern Historians, Southey, I think, cannot be wrong by keeping so much within the bounds of Conjecture: Conjecture about any other Man's Soul and Motives!

_To FitzEdward Hall_. {220a}

WOODBRIDGE: _June_ 24 [1877].

MY DEAR SIR,

I have run through your _Ability_ {220b} again, since I sent it to Wright: but as I before said (I believe) am not a competent Critic. I know that I coincide (unless I misconstrue) with your Canons laid down at pp. 162, etc. I am for all words that are smooth, or strong, (as the meaning requires) which have proved their worth by general admission into the Language. '_Reliable_' is, what '_trustworthy_' is not, good current coin for general use, though '_trustworthy_' may be good too for occasional emphasis.

I remember old Hudson Gurney cavilling a little at '_realize_' as I innocently used the word in a Memoir of my old Bernard Barton near thirty years ago: this word I have also seen branded as American; let America furnish us with more such words; better than what our 'old English'

pedants supply, with their '_Fore-word_' for 'Preface,' '_Folk-lore_,'

and other such conglomerate consonants. Odd, that a Lawyer (Sugden) should have lubricated '_Hand-book_' by a sort of Persian process into 'Handy-book'!

I remember, years ago, thinking I must rebel against English by using '_impitiable_' for 'incapable of Pity.' Yet I suppose that, according to Alford & Co., I was justified, though 'pitiable' is, I think always used of the thing pitied, not the Pitier. But I should defer to customary usage rather than to any particular whim of my own; only that it happened to come handy at the time, and I did not, and do not, much care.

But is not usage against your use of '_imitable_' at p. 100, meaning what _ought not_, not what _cannot_, be imitated? 'Non imitabile fulmen,'

etc., and, negatively, '_inimitable_'?

'_Vengeable_' with its host of Authorities surprised, and gratified, me.

Johnson, you say (p. 34) called '_uncomeatable_' a low corrupt word: rather, as you well say, 'a permissible colloquialism.' Yes; like old Johnson's own '_Clubable_' by which he designated some Good sociable Fellow.

'_Party_' has good Authority (from Shakespeare himself, as we know), and is a handy word we ought not to dismiss: better than the d---d '_Individual_' which should only be used in philosophic or scientific discrimination. Still, Crabbe, in his fine Opium-inspired 'World of Dreams' should not recall his beloved as '_that dear Party_.'

Other adjectives beside those that 'exit in _able_' are cavilled at.

'_Fadeless_'; what is '_a Fade_'? Why not 'unfading'? Yet there is a difference between what has not as yet faded, and what _cannot_ fade. And I shall become very '_tiresome_,' though I don't know of any '_tire_' but of a Waggon wheel; and remain yours truly.

E. FITZGERALD.

_To C. E. Norton_.

WOODBRIDGE. _August_ 21/77.

MY DEAR SIR,

You have doubtless heard from Mr. Lowell since he got to Spain: he may have mentioned that unaccomplished visit to me which he was to have undertaken at your Desire. I doubt the two letters I wrote to be given him in London (through Quaritch) did not reach him: only the first which said my house was full of Nieces, so as I must lodge him (as I did our Laureate) at the Inn: but the second Letter was to say that I had Houseroom, and would meet him at the Train any day and hour. He wrote to me the day before he left for Paris to say that he had never intended to do more than just run down for the Day, shake hands, and away! That I had an Instinct against: that one half-day's meeting of two Septuagenarians (I believe), to see one another's face for that once, 'But here, upon that Bank and Shoal of Time and' then, 'jump the Life to come' as well as the Life before. No: I say I am glad he did not do that: but I had my house all ready to entertain him as best I could; and had even planned a little Visit to our neighbouring Coast, where are the Village remains of a once large Town devoured by the Sea: and, yet undevoured (except by Henry VIII.), the grey walls of a Grey Friars'

Priory, beside which they used to walk, under such Sunsets as illumine them still. This pathetic Ruin, still remaining by the Sea, would (I feel sure) have been more to one from the New Atlantis than all London can show: but I should have liked better had Mr. Lowell seen it on returning to America, rather than going to Spain, where the yet older and more splendid Moors would soon have effaced the memory of our poor Dunwich. If you have a Map of England, look for it on the Eastern Coast.

If Mr. Lowell should return this way, and return in the proper Season for such cold Climate as ours, he shall see it: and so shall you, if you will, under like conditions; including a reasonable and available degree of Health in myself to do the honours. . . .

I live down in such a Corner of this little Country that I see scarce any one but my Woodbridge Fellow-townsmen, and learn but little from such Friends as could tell me of the World beyond. But the English do not generally love Letter writing: and very few of us like it the more as we get older. So I have but little to say that deserves an Answer from you: but please to write me a little: a word about Mr. Lowell, whom you have doubtless heard from. [One politeness I had prepared for him here was, to show him some sentences in his Books which I did not like!] Which also leads me to say that some one sent me a number of your American 'Nation' with a Review of my redoubtable Agamemnon: written by a superior hand, and, I think, quite discriminating in its distribution of Blame and Praise: though I will not say the Praise was not more than deserved; but it was where deserved, I think.

_To J. R. Lowell_. {224}

WOODBRIDGE. _August_ 26/77.

MY DEAR SIR,

I ought scarce to trouble you amid your diplomatic cares and dignities.

But I will, so far as to say I hope you had my second letter before you left London: saying that my house was emptied of Nieces, and I was ready to receive you for as long as you would. Indeed, I chiefly flinched at the thought of your taking the trouble to come down only for a Day: which means, less than half a Day: a sort of meeting that seems a mockery in the lives of two men, one of whom I know by Register to be close on Seventy. I do indeed deprecate any one coming down out of his way: but, if he come, I would rather he did so for such time as would allow of some palpable Acquaintance. And I meant to take you to no other sight than the bare grey walls of an old Grey Friars' Priory near the Sea; and I proposed to make myself further agreeable by showing you three or two pa.s.sages in your Books that I do not like amid all the rest which I like so much: and had even meant to give you a very small thirty year old Dialogue of my own, which one of your 'Study Windows' reminded me of. All this I meant; and, any how, wrote to say that I and my house were ready.

And there is enough of the matter. You are busied with other and greater things. Nor must you think yourself called on to answer this letter at all.

When you were to start for Spain, I was thinking what a hot time of it you would have there: in Madrid too, I suppose, worst of all, I have heard. But you have t.i.tian and Velasquez to refresh you. Cervantes too is not far. We have here (some two or three years old) a Book 'Untrodden Spain'; unaffectedly and pleasantly written by some Clergyman, Rose, who lived chiefly among the mining folk. But there is a Chapter in Vol. 2 ent.i.tled '[_El_]_ Pajaro_,' and giving account of a day's sport with [Pedro the Barber] who carries a Decoy Bird, which is as another Chapter to Don Quixote. Ah! I look at him on my Shelf, and know that I can take him down when I will, and that I shall do so many a time before 1878 if I live. . . .

Tell me something of the Spanish Drama, Lope, or Calderon. I think you could get one acted by Virtue of your Office.

WOODBRIDGE. [_October_, 1877.]

MY DEAR SIR--(which I will exchange for your own name if you will set me Example).

You see I write to you; but do not expect any answer from the midst of all your Business. But I have lately been re-reading--(at that same old Dunwich, too)--those Essays of yours on which you wished to see my 'Adversaria.' These are too few and insignificant to specify by Letter: when you return to English-speaking World, you shall, if you please, see my Copy, or Copies, marked with a Query at such places as I stumbled at.