UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 /
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 EDWARD FITZGERALD
 
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 THE LIFE OF 
 
 EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS WRIGHT 
 
 AUTHOR OF ' THE LIFE OF WILLIAM COWPER, ETC. 
 
 WITH FIFTY-SIX PLATES 
 
 TWO VOLUMES 
 VOL. L 
 
 1 « N « b 
 
 NEW YORK 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 
 1904
 
 • - • • « • 
 
 Edinburgh : T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty
 
 
 
 i 
 
 s^ \ THIS WORK 
 
 IS DEDICATED, BY KIND PERMISSION, 
 TO 
 
 THE REV. E. KENWORTHY BROWNE 
 
 \ RECTOR OF NORTH STONEHAM, HANTS, 
 
 r4 SON OF EDWARD FITZGERALD'S 
 
 GREATEST FRIEND 
 
 2U044/a
 
 PREFACE 
 
 Whatever may be the merits or demerits of the following 
 biography, I should like to draw special attention to the 
 fact that it contains a very large amount of new information 
 about FitzGerald, his particular friends and his works. 
 There is, indeed, something new on almost every page. 
 
 By many, no doubt, my discovery of the origin of 
 ' Euphranor,' and the circumstances in which it was written, 
 will be regarded as one of the most interesting revelations of 
 the work. 
 
 Then the numerous extracts from the large number of 
 unpublished letters placed in my hands throw all sorts of 
 unexpected lights on FitzGerald and his circle. These letters 
 are as follows : — 
 
 (i) About fifty written by FitzGerald to Mrs. W. Ken- 
 worthy Browne. They cover a period extending from 1840 to 
 1875, and are important because they contain many references 
 to the relations between FitzGerald and his wife. 
 
 (2) About fifty written by FitzGerald to foseph Fletcher 
 (' Posh '), of which many are in my own possession. Of the 
 hundred letters above referred to not a word has hitherto 
 been published. 
 
 (3) Several letters written by FitzGerald to Horace 
 Basham. 
 
 (4) A letter {iZth fune 1852) in the British Museum. 
 
 vi
 
 viii LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 (5) Some unpublished letters written to Mr. Herman 
 Biddell. 
 
 I have also been able to use a large number of unpublished 
 letters written to FitzGerald and others by Thackeray^ 
 Mrs. FitzGerald, W. Kenworthy Browne, Spedding, Captain 
 Addington, Rev. George Crabbe, Miss Crab be, and other 
 friends of FitzGerald. 
 
 Of intense interest is the unpublished manuscript, contain- 
 ing, in FitzGerald' s handwriting, word-pictures of his 
 principal friends — Alfred Tennyson, Thackeray , W. Ken- 
 worthy Browne, Edgeworth, Morton, Malkin, and Bernard 
 Barton among them. From this I have quoted largely. 
 
 I have also set down some thirty hitherto unrecorded 
 anecdotes of FitzGerald, and a number of notes written by 
 him in books, the most important being those i?i copies of 
 ' Godefridus,' ' Euphranor,' and Baedeker's ' Manual of Con- 
 versation,' the last containing a reference to a hitherto 
 unrecorded visit of FitzGerald s to Germany. 
 
 It is a curious fact that the great central circumstance 
 of FitzGerald' s life, his friendship for W. Kenworthy 
 Browne, one of the most remarkable friendships in the 
 history of literature, has hitherto been hardly mentioned. 
 Take up any work you will relating to FitzGerald, and there 
 will be found nothing about it beyond the few references in 
 the published letters. I have laid bare the whole story. The 
 close connection between FitzGerald ajid his brother fohn 
 and the Bedford evangelist, the Rev. T. R. Matthews, has 
 also hitherto been unsuspected. That story I have also com- 
 pletely unfolded. 
 
 Other hitherto unknown facts relating to FitzGerald here 
 recorded are: — (i) Scores of interesting particulars relating
 
 PREFACE ix 
 
 to the friendships of FitzGerald with Squire fenny, Major 
 Moor, Rev. W. Monkhouse, Harry Dyott Boulton, Captain 
 Addington, Miss Maude, Miss Lynn, * Mademoiselle^ Horace 
 Basham, Joseph Fletcher {'Posh'), and Newson. (2) Many 
 interesting particulars about the ' Meuin and Tuum ' {Fits- 
 Gerald's lugger), ' The Scandal' {FitzGerald' s yacht), and 
 ' The Bethel' at Lowestoft. (3) The incident of the drive 
 with Dickens. (4) The Bredfield School episode. (5) 
 FitsGerald's courtship of Miss Crabbe. (6) Facts relating 
 to his connection with Naseby, and his favourite Bedford- 
 shire villages. (7) His opinions on cremation and other 
 subjects. (8) The identification of ' The Three Tuns' at 
 Chesterton, which was the scene of ' Euphranor.' (9) The 
 identification of W. K, Browne as Pendennis. 
 
 Then, too, I have rescued from a forgotten annual, * The 
 Keepsake,' FitzGerald' s two poems ' The Old Beau' and ^The 
 Merchant's Daughter.' 
 
 In short, I have been sticcessful beyond my utmost expecta- 
 tions, and for the simple reason that nobody before had taken 
 the trouble to make exhaustive investigations. 
 
 As it is now twenty years since the death of Edward 
 FitzGerald, I do not think an apology need be made for 
 recording any of the facts here given. His foibles and faults, 
 as well as his virtues, are faith filly put before the reader, 
 and to objectors {and no biography was ever written without 
 displeasing somebody) I would offer a remark made to me by 
 one of FitzGerald' s most intimate friends, ' We have a right,' 
 said he, * to enjoy the memory of great men.' 
 
 Very soon after commencing the study of Edward 
 FitzGerald, I discovered the viry great resemblance in 
 character between him and his brother John, and that, their
 
 X LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 lives being much mixed up, some account of John FitzGerald 
 would be necessary to a complete understanding of Edward. 
 In some respects the brothers were even ridiculously alike. 
 John was a public character, and well known in every village 
 of Suffolk and in many parts of Bedfordshire and North- 
 amptonshire twenty years before Edwards name was heard 
 of and his eccentricities were common talk in religious 
 circles. Then he has been dead nearly thirty years. I do not 
 think there is — / trust there is not — anything in these pages 
 that could give pain to any living person. 
 
 Of very great value, too, are the illustrations — fifty-six 
 in number. Many of these are reproductions from rare prints 
 and photographs, and hitherto inaccessible oil paintings. 
 Of particular interest, for example, are the various portraits 
 of W. Kenworthy Browne, including one by Thackeray and 
 one by Lawrence ; the pictures of Boulge Hall with the volun- 
 teers, and Naseby Woolleys ; the silhouette of the Rev. T. R. 
 Matthews ; the pictures of'' The Scandal' and the ' Meum and 
 Tuum,' and the portraits of Squire fenny, Major Moor, fohn 
 FitzGerald, and Miss Lynn. Of these fifty-six pictures only 
 nine or ten have previously been seen by the public. 
 
 The origin of this work is as follows : — 
 
 Edward FitzGerald, as everybody knows who has studied 
 the published letters, was associated intimately with two, and 
 only two, English districts, namely the Suffolk sea-board and 
 Bedfordshire — or, to be 7nore accurate, that belt of country 
 extending from Baldock {in Herts) and Luton to Naseby 
 and Kettering, and including Bedfordshire, the northern 
 tip of Bucks and Northants. 
 
 Living in the latter district, having all my life been
 
 PREFACE xi 
 
 con7iected with Bedford, having spent as 7nuch time as 
 FitzGerald himself rambling among his Bedfordshire and 
 Northamptonshire villages, it was very natural that I should 
 be interested in him. 
 
 Perhaps fewer facts have been recorded about Edward 
 FitzGerald than of any other great modern English writer. 
 It has hitherto been understood that the reason for this 
 scarcity of biographical matter was that there were 7io 
 materials. In view of the circumstance that FitzGerald 
 was born so recently as 1809, ^'^'^ ^^^^ ^0 recently as 1883, 
 / came to the conclusion that while those biographical materials 
 had not been m,ade public, they must somewhere exist, and 
 accordingly I set about the collection of them, though without 
 any definite idea as to the use I should put them to. 
 
 In my researches I had the advantage of assistance from 
 the late Mr. George Hurst of Bedford, and several other 
 gentlemen who had information to impart and ariecdotes to 
 tell respecting FitzGerald, FitzGerald' s brother fohn, 
 Matthews the preacher, and other personages. 
 
 In the spring of 1901, when visiting a friend, I happejied 
 in the course of conversation to observe that, my edition 
 of ' Cowper's Letters ' being ready for the press, I had 
 nothing literary in hand. A few minutes later, the talk 
 having turned to Bedford and my FitzGerald collection, my 
 friend said, ' Why not write " The Life of Edtvard Fitz- 
 Gerald^^ ? You ought to be very much obliged to vie for 
 the suggestion.' 
 
 I at once resolved to attempt the task, provided only that I 
 could enlist the sympathies of three persons, namely Mr. 
 Aldis Wright, FitzGerald' s literary executor ; Professor E. 
 B. Cowell ; and the Rev. E. Kenworthy Broivne, so7i of
 
 xii LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 FitsGerald's greatest friend. I presently wrote to Mr. 
 Wright afid Professor Cowell regarding my project, and 
 both replied in terms of extreme kindness. A little later 
 I called on Mr. Wright at Cambridge. He showed m.e all 
 his FitzGerald treasures, including the famous * small tin 
 box^'^ and its contents, allowed me to take what notes I liked, 
 permitted vie to copy some letters from FitsGerald's friends, 
 and one from Mrs. FitzGerald, and gave m.e a number of 
 useful hints. He then introduced me to Professor Cowell, 
 who furnished me with much valuable information, most of 
 which I have been able to use in these pages. Both he and 
 Professor Cowell helped me subsequently by letter. 
 
 In response to the invitation of the Rev. E. Kenworthy 
 Browne, I then went to spend a few days at North Stoneham 
 Rectory, in Hants. Mr. Browne placed in my hands a large 
 number of unpublished letters written by FitzGerald, several 
 other valuable manuscripts connected with the subject, and 
 a number of interesting pictures that had never previously 
 been used. The manuscripts which I had not time to copy 
 he courteotisly allowed me to bring away. 
 
 To Mr. Browne's sister, Mrs. Staunton- Wing of Fit z Head 
 Court, Taunton, I am indebted for the loan of the copy of 
 ' Godefridus' presented to her father by FitzGerald {see 
 chapter vi.) ; and to his brother. Captain Gerald E. Ken- 
 worthy Browne, FitzGerald' s godson, for the portrait of* The 
 Bloody Warrior' at Alders hot. 
 
 Besides the visits to North Stoneham and Cambridge, I 
 
 made four other journeys in order to converse with persons 
 
 who had known FitzGerald, going three times into Suffolk 
 
 and Norfolk {March, fuly, and October 1902), attd once to 
 
 ^ See Mr. Wright's preface to FitzGerald' s Letters.
 
 PREFACE xiii 
 
 Naseby. Fro^n first to last I ftuist have interviewed two 
 hundred persons^ but to the following I atn most indebted : — 
 
 Miss Mary Lynn of Aldeburgh, playmate of FitzGerald's 
 boyhood, and friend of his declining years. She gave me 
 various information, told me several anecdotes, and allowed 
 me to take from her book of water-colour paintings two 
 views to illustrate this work. 
 
 Mrs. White of Boulge Hall. To Mrs. White, whose guest I 
 was for two days in August 1902, Miss Margaret White and 
 Miss Agnes White, I am indebted not only for hospitality 
 at Boulge Hall, but in many other ways; a?td I have to 
 thank Mr. Eaton White for a number of the photographs 
 used in this work. 
 
 Mrs. White, Bredfield House. Mrs. White of Bredfield 
 House, where Fits Gerald was born, showed me much kind- 
 ness when I called ofi her, and assisted me with reminiscences 
 and anecdotes. 
 
 Mr. Alfred Smith of Rendlesham, with whom I spent two 
 days at Lowestoft, had stories to tell me of a friendship with 
 FitzGerald that had lasted forty years. 
 
 Mr. Herman Biddell, who showed me many original 
 letters written by FitzGerald, and some FitzGerald relics. 
 
 Joseph Fletcher, ^ Posh', FitzGerald' s 'great man,' ideal 
 sailor, and hero. I had many conversations with him at 
 Lowestoft. 
 
 Miss Sarah Thornton, the blind lady to whom John 
 FitzGerald was so kind, and who was also well acquainted 
 with Edward FitzGerald. 
 
 I should also like to tender my sincere thanks to the 
 following: —
 
 xiv LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Rev. Basil Airy., Vicar of St. John's, Torquay {son of Fiiz- 
 
 Ger aid's friend). 
 Mrs. Agutter, Goldington, Beds. 
 Mr. Oliver Aldis, Beccles. 
 Rev. H. B. Allen, Colmworth, Beds. 
 Mrs. Thomas Allen. 
 Mr. George Barker, Wickham Market. 
 Mrs. Barlow, Hasketon. 
 Mrs. Isaac Berry, Woodbridge. 
 Miss Anna Biddell, Ipswich. 
 Mr. Cable, Aldeburgh. 
 
 Mrs. Callis, Gra?nmar School, Bury St. Edtfiu?ids. 
 Miss Ellen Churchyard, Woodbridge {daughter of Fitz Gerald^ s 
 
 frie?id). 
 Mr. J. L. Clemence, J.P., 14 Marine Parade, Lowestoft. 
 Mr. William Colby, ^ Dickymilk,' who knew Fitz Gerald for fifty 
 
 years. He lived at Lowestoft, and was alive in 1902. 
 Major Doughty, Aldeburgh. 
 
 Mr. Elijah Edwards, 62 Carlton Road, Lowestoft. 
 Mrs. Fitz Gerald, widow of Fitz Gerald's nephew Maurice. 
 Mr. Fosdyke, Woodbridge. 
 Mr. V. Galloivay, Bookseller, Catnbridge. 
 Mr. Charles Gafis, Aldeburgh. 
 Mr.Johfi Green, Aldeburgh. 
 Mrs. R. M. Grier {Grace Allen), daughter of Archdeacon Allen, 
 
 Fitz Gerald's friend. 
 Mr. Edward Haines, Naseby. 
 Mr. Halford, Naseby. 
 
 Mr. W. M. Harvey, Goldington Hall, Beds. 
 Mrs. Hogben, The High School for Girls, Bury St. Edmimds, 
 
 formerly King Edward VI.' s Grammar School. 
 Mr. Isaac Joyce, 59 Bower Road, Bedford. 
 Rev. John Kerrich, FitzGerald's nephew. 
 Miss Sarah Linnet, Naseby. 
 Mr. John Loder, Woodbridge. 
 Mr. William Marjoram, Woodbridge.
 
 PREFACE XV 
 
 Mr. Marjoram, Loivestoft. 
 
 Rev. R. A. L. Nimns, Wherstead. 
 
 Mr. Henry Ogle, The Library, Ipswich. 
 
 Rev. J. H. Orpen, Rector of Burton-in-Rhos, Pembrokeshire. 
 
 Mrs. Pytches, '•Little Grange^ Woodbridge. 
 
 Mr. J. A. Reid, Cutcliff Grove, Bedford. 
 
 Mrs. Jane Ritigrose, Naseby. 
 
 Mrs. Rogers, Woodbridge. 
 
 Mrs. /ohfi Rolls, Bedford. 
 
 Mr. Gerald Smith, Great Beatings. 
 
 Miss Spalding, daughter of FitzGeraWs friend, Mr. Frederick 
 
 Spalding. 
 Mr. A. Stebbings, Lowestoft. 
 
 Mr. IV. Tarns, i8 Priory Street, Huntingdon Road, Cambridge. 
 Rev. R. C. Thiirspield, Naseby Vicarage. 
 Mr. and Mrs. Vincent Redstone, Woodbridge. 
 Mr. K. H. Watts, King Edward V/.'s Grammar School, Bury 
 
 St. Edtnunds. 
 Mr. William Woodward Welton, Farlingay Hall, Woodbridge. 
 Mr. Welton, Photographer, Woodbridge. 
 
 While the ^Life ' is in the main founded on unpublished 
 material, I have not neglected to make full use of all the 
 published works relating to the subject, and the more impor- 
 tant magazine articles. My principal indebtedness is to the 
 various works, relative to FitzGerald, published by Messrs, 
 Macmillan; and, thanks to the kindness of Mr. Aldis Wright 
 and the generous permission of Messrs, Macmillan, I have 
 been able to make a number of extracts of considerable 
 length. Then I have to thank Mrs. R. M. Grier for the 
 use of the portrait of her father. Archdeacon Allen, which 
 appeared originally in Mr. Crier's work, ' The Life of 
 Archdeacon Allen^ The following is a fairly complete list
 
 xvi LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 of the books and magazine articles that have beefi laid under 
 contribution : — 
 
 Allen {Archdeacon), Life of. By R. M. Grier {Rivingtons). 
 
 Arbuthnot (i^ F.). Persian Portraits {Quaritch). 
 
 Barton {Lucy). Bible Letters, 1831. 
 
 Barton {Bernard). Household Verses, 1845. 
 
 Blackwood' s Edinlmrgh Magazine, November 1889, 
 
 Colvin {Sidney). Magazine of Art, 1885 — ^ East Suffolk Memories' 
 
 Contemporary Review, March 1876. Article by H. Schutz Wilson. 
 
 Carlyle's Works {Ashburton Edition). 
 
 Dutt, W. A. Highways a?id Byeways in East Anglia. 
 
 Eraser s Magazine, Jti fie 1870. 
 
 ,, ,, May 1879 — ^ The True Omar Khayyam.'' By 
 
 /essie E. Cadeli. 
 FitzGerald, T/ie Letters and Literary Retnains of. ^vols. Edited 
 by Mr. Aldis Wright. {Macmillan.) 
 „ Letters of . 2 vols. 1894. {Macmillan.) 
 
 ,, Letters to Fanny Kemble. 1895. {Bentley.) 
 
 „ More Letters of Edward FitzGerald. 1901. {Macmillan^ 
 
 „ Sea Words and Phrases, 1869 and 1870. .{Samuel 
 
 Tymms, Loivestoft.) 
 „ Miscellanies. {Macmillan.) 
 
 Gentleman's Magazine, 1830 to 1850. 
 
 Glyde {fohn). The Life of Edward FitzGerald. {Pearson.) 
 Groome {Francis Hindes). Two Suffolk Friends. {Blackwood.) 
 Heron- Allen's edition of the Rubaiyat. {H. S. Nichols.) 
 Houghton {Life of Lord). By Sir Wemyss Reid. 
 Liter, The, fuly 1900. ''The Suffolk Homes of Edward FitzGerald.^ 
 James {Henry). ^Frances Anne Kemble' Temple Bar, April 1893. 
 Kemble {Frances A.) — 
 
 Record of a Girlhood {i2>og-i2> 2, a)- ^vols. 1878. 
 Records of Later Life {i2>2,A-'i-^A^)- 3 z^^/J. 1882. 
 Further Records {i2>A^-i2)2>i). 2 vols. 1890. 
 Lady's Magazine, The, 1822. ^ Dratnatic Lntelligence.^ 
 Layard. Life of Charles Keene. {S. Low and Co.)
 
 PREFACE 
 
 xvii 
 
 ^Letters of a Man of Leisure.^ Temple Bar, January 1893. 
 
 Literature, 28//^ September 1901. 
 
 London .Society, May 1866. ' The London Opera Directors.^ 
 
 Macmilian's Magazine, November 1887. Article by H. G. Keene. 
 
 Monckton Milnes {Lord ILoughton). Temple Bar, vol. xcii. 
 
 Moor {Major). Suffolk Words. 
 
 Pollock {Sir Frederick). Personal Remitiiscences. {Macmillan.) 
 
 Prideaux {Colotiel W. F.). Notes for a Bibliography of Edward 
 
 FitzGerald. {Frajik Hollings.) 
 Shorter, Clement. Article on ' The Omar Khayyam Club ' in Great 
 
 Thoughts. 
 Thackeray. Biographical Edition of the Works of W. M. Thackeray, 
 
 with Ifitroductions by his daughter, Anne Ritchie. 1 3 vols. 
 Temple Bar, 1889, May. ' The Prototypes of Thackeray's Char' 
 
 acters.' 
 >> »> 1893, yi7«?^flry. '' Letters of a Man of Leisure? 
 „ „ i^()T„ April. ^ Frances Anne Kemble.^ 
 Tennyson {Lord). Life of Lord Tennyson. 
 Two Suffolk Friends {with corrections made in margin by Mr. J. 
 
 Loder). 
 Wright {Mr. Aldis). See FitzGerald. 
 Zincke {Rev. F. Barhani), ' Wherstead.' 
 
 Thomas Weight.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOLUME I 
 
 BOOK I : BREDFIELD AND BURY SCHOOL 
 
 Sixteen Years (31st March 1809-1825). 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 
 31st March 1809 — 1825 
 
 1. The White House and the Little Owl, 
 
 2. FitzGeralcl's Parents and the Kembles, 
 
 3. The Red House, . 
 
 4. Naseby Woolleys, 
 
 5. Major Moor, 
 
 6. Woodbridge, 
 
 7. In France. The Rodez Murder, 
 
 8. Aldeburgh. Mary Lynn, 
 
 9. The Poet Crabbe, . 
 
 10. The Haymarket Theatre, 
 
 11. At Bury, 182 1. Peter's Escapade 
 
 12. The Naseby Obelisk, 
 
 13. Bernard Barton, . 
 
 14. The Maple's Head, 
 
 29 
 30 
 37 
 41 
 44 
 48 
 
 50 
 52 
 53 
 56 
 59 
 65 
 65 
 67 
 
 BOOK II : WHERSTEAD 
 
 Ten Years (1825-1835). 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 
 1825 — November 1830. 
 
 15. Wherstead and Ipswich, . . , . 
 
 16. At Cambridge, 1826-1830, .... 
 
 17. The 'Three Tuns' at Chesterton, 
 
 18. The Two Antipholuses, ..... 
 
 19. Mrs. Kerrich, Dr. Crowfoot, Le Bon Pasteur, Torrijos, 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 NASEBY AND TENTIY 
 November 1830 — May 1834. 
 
 20. At Naseby. The Meadows in Spring, . 
 
 21. Lines on Will Thackeray, .... 
 
 22. Perry Nursey and Newton Shawe, 
 
 71 
 
 75 
 82 
 
 85 
 86 
 
 92 
 
 95 
 96
 
 XX 
 
 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 23- 
 
 24. 
 
 25- 
 
 26. 
 27. 
 28. 
 29. 
 
 30- 
 
 31- 
 32. 
 33. 
 34. 
 
 Matthews and his Trumpet, 
 
 Tenby and the Aliens, 1832, 
 
 William Kenworthy Browne, 
 
 ' Paradise-making,' 
 
 At Lowestoft, 1 83 1, 
 
 Death of the poet Crabbe, 3rd February 
 
 Canst thou, my Clora, 
 
 W. B. Donne. Castle Irwell, 
 
 Word Portraits, . 
 
 Vegetarianism, October 1833, 
 
 The Museum Book, 15th October 1833, 
 
 Death of Anne Allen, 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 HARP AND LUTE 
 
 35. 
 36. 
 
 37- 
 38. 
 39- 
 
 1832, 
 
 May 1834— July 1835. 
 
 Genius for concentrating, 
 Cauldwell House, Bedford. 
 'The Old Beau,' 1834, . 
 In the Lake Country, 
 Farewell to Wherstead, . 
 
 Frank Edgeworth, 
 
 PAGE 
 96 
 
 104 
 
 108 
 III 
 III 
 
 113 
 
 114 
 
 116 
 117 
 
 119 
 120 
 124 
 126 
 129 
 
 BOOK III: BOULGE 
 
 Eighteen Years (July 1835-1853), 
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 BOULGE HALL 
 July;i835— August 1838 
 
 40. Boulge Hall, .... 
 
 41. George Crabbe the Second, 
 
 42. Newton and Cowper, 
 
 43. The Cottage at Boulge, April 1837, 
 
 44. Bernard Barton and his daughter Lucy, 
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 
 
 45 
 
 46, 
 47 
 
 August 1838 — June 1841. 
 
 ' The Falcon ' at Bletsoe, 
 
 ' Flowing Rivers full of Fishes. 
 
 August 1838, . 
 Godefridus and Keysoe, ..... 
 At Lowestoft with Browne, .... 
 
 48. Samuel Lawrence and Geldestone, 
 
 49. In Love with Miss Caroline Crabbe. ' Bredfield Hall,' 1839, 
 
 50. In Ireland with W. K. Browne, October 1839, . 
 
 51. At Geldestone. J. H. Newman, April 1840, 
 
 52. ' Chronomoros,' ...... 
 
 133 
 138 
 
 139 
 
 142 
 
 147 
 
 152 
 
 154 
 161 
 
 162 
 163 
 165 
 166 
 167
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XXI 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 
 July 1841 — July 1844. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 53. In Ireland again, July 1841. The Edgeworths, . . 169 
 
 54. Strada del Obelisco. A Drive with Dickens, . . . 170 
 
 55. Frederick Tennyson ; Pierce Morton ; and Carlyle's Hero- 
 
 Worships . . . . . . .173 
 
 56. In London, Spring 1842, ...... 174 
 
 57. At Bedford, Yardley Hastings, and Castle Ashby, August 1842, 175 
 
 58. Carlyle in a ' Branglemess.' Naseby Excavations, . . 176 
 
 59. In Ireland again, . . . . . . .182 
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 
 April 1844 — September 1845. 
 
 60. The Bromham Road Chapel, .... 
 
 61. Browne's Marriage, 30th July 1844, 
 
 62. Goldington Hall. ' The Bloody Warrior,' 
 
 63. Andalusia's Marriage, August 1844, 
 
 64. Bernard Barton's eighth volume. ' Le petit Churchyard,' 
 
 65. Death of Matthews, 4th September 1845, 
 
 187 
 188 
 
 193 
 202 
 
 205 
 
 206 
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 E. B. COWELL 
 October 1845 — 1853. 
 
 66. A Peep at the Hall Farm, 1846, . 
 
 67. The Wits of Woodbridge, 
 
 68. E. B. Cowell, ..... 
 
 69. Death of Edgeworth, 12th October 1846, 
 
 70. The ' Squire ' Papers. Kemble at Cassiobury, . 
 
 71. Cowell's Marriage, .... 
 
 72. FitzGerald as a Teacher of the Bible, . 
 
 73. Death of Major Moor and Bernard Barton, 
 
 74. The Cottage at Bramford. Spedding's Forehead, 
 
 75. Cowell goes to Oxford, . 
 
 76. EiipJiranor^ 
 
 77. Alfred Smith, Boulge Reader, 
 
 78. Bankruptcy of Fitz( lerald's father, 
 
 79. Death of Squire Jenny, 185 1, 
 
 80. Fanny Kemble at Woodbridge. Miss Maude, . 
 
 81. A Visit to Archdeacon Allen, February 1852, . 
 
 82. Death of FitzGerald's father, i8th March 1852, 
 
 83. Polo/nus, 1852, ..... 
 
 84. At Goldington Hall. On Song-Making, 
 
 85. Six Plays of Calderon published, 1853, . 
 
 214 
 215 
 217 
 219 
 220 
 222 
 222 
 224 
 230 
 236 
 
 237 
 240 
 241 
 
 243 
 244 
 246 
 
 247 
 248 
 250 
 252
 
 xxii LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 BOOK IV: FARLINGAY 
 
 Seven Years (December 1853 — November i860). 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 
 
 1853-1855- 
 
 86. Farlingay, ....... 
 
 87. Persian Studies,. ...... 
 
 88. Sa/a/;mn and A dsal published, 1856, . . . . 
 
 89. With the Cowells at Oxford. Death of FitzGerald's mother, 
 
 January 30, 1855, . 
 
 90. Carlyle at Farlingay, 8th to i8th August 1855, 
 
 PAGE 
 259 
 260 
 266 
 
 269 
 271 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 
 
 91. Omar Khayyam, 
 
 92. The two Theories, 
 
 93. Omar's Poem, 
 
 94. Omar's Personality, 
 
 95. ' Heart's Desire,' 
 
 96. The Inconsistencies of Omar, 
 
 97. Omar's attitude towards God, 
 
 98. Goldington Hall. FitzGerald in Germany, June 1856, 
 
 99. Cowell goes to India, Aug. 1856. Reminiscences of Bramford, 
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 
 
 (4th November 1856 — May 1857). 
 
 100. A Week at Donne's. George Borrow, 
 
 loi. FitzGerald's Marriage, 4th November 1856, . 
 
 102. The Birds' 'Pilgrim's Progress,' .... 
 
 103. The Paddock at Goldington Hall. Baldock ' Black Horse.' 
 
 The Separation, ...... 
 
 104. The ' Far niente' life again, . . . . . 
 
 276 
 277 
 281 
 281 
 283 
 285 
 285 
 288 
 291 
 
 296 
 297 
 302 
 
 305 
 312 
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GOLDINGTON 
 (May 1857— March 1859). 
 
 105. Death of George Crabbe the Second . 
 
 106. Goldington Bury, 23rd September 1858, 
 
 107. Death of W. Kenworthy Browne, 30th March 1859, 
 
 315 
 319 
 320
 
 LIST OF PLATES IN VOLUME I 
 
 PLATE 
 
 I. EDWARD FITZGERALD, . , . Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 II. BREDFIELD HOUSE AND NASEBY WOOLLEYS, . ' '2^ 
 
 III. Fitzgerald's mother, . . . -Si 
 
 IV. the RED house, . . . . -35 
 
 V. SQUIRE JENNY OF HASKETON, . . -39 
 
 VI. MAJOR MOOR, WITH STICK FROM * ROYAL GEORGE,' . 45 
 
 VII. KING EDWARD THE SIXTH's SCHOOL, BURY ST. 
 
 EDMUNDS, . . . . . -57 
 
 VIII, THE OBELISK, NASEBY, . . . -63 
 
 IX. WHERSTEAD LODGE AND THE FERRY, CHESTERTON, 73 
 
 X. FITZGERALD'S LODGINGS, CAMBRIDGE, . '77 
 
 XI. CAMBRIDGE HOUSE, CHESTERTON, AND GELDESTONE 
 
 HALL, ...... 83 
 
 XII. REV. T. R. MATTHEWS OF BEDFORD, . . 97 
 
 XIII. THE TRUMPET BLOWN BY THE REV. T. R. MATTHEWS, lOI 
 XIV. W. KENWORTHY BROWNE, . . . .105 
 
 XV. CAULDWELL HOUSE, BEDFORD, . . .12 1 
 
 XVI. BOULGE HALL AND BOULGE CHURCH, . . 135 
 
 xxiii
 
 xxiv LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 PLATE 
 
 XVII. BOULGE COTTAGE, .... 
 
 XVIII. 'THE FALCON,' BLETSOE, 
 
 XIX. ' THE ROSE AND CROWN,' YARDLEY HASTINGS, 
 
 XX. JOHN ALLEN (1844), 
 
 XXI. TURNPIKE COTTAGE AND GOLDINGTON HALL, 
 
 XXII. GOLDINGTON VICARAGE, 
 
 XXIII. THE REV. W. MONKHOUSE AND THE REV. \V. AIRY, 
 
 XXIV. W. KENWORTHY BROWNE, 
 XXV. THOMAS CHURCHYARD, 
 
 XXVI. MATTHEWS'S CHAPEL, BEDFORD, 
 
 XXVII. BERNARD BARTON, .... 
 
 XXVIII. THE COTTAGE AT BRAMFORD, 
 
 XXIX. FARLINGAY HALL, .... 
 
 XXX. COPY OF PHOTOGRAPH PRESENTED BY CARLYLE TO 
 ALFRED SMITH .... 
 
 XXXI. TOMB OF OMAR KHAYYAM, . 
 
 XXXII. 'the bloody WARRIOR,' 
 
 XXXIII. PROFESSOR COWELL, .... 
 
 XXXIV. GOLDINGTON HALL FROM ' THE PADDOCK,' . 
 
 XXXV, GOLDINGTON BURY, .... 
 
 XXXVI. W. KENWORTHY BROWNE, 
 
 XXXVII. GOLDINGTON CHURCH,
 
 BOOK I 
 
 Bredfield and Bury School 
 Sixteen Years (31 st March 1809-1825) 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 A 3-'"^ a. 
 
 
 BREDFIELD HOUSE (FITZGERALD'S BIRTHPLACE) 
 
 From a plioto^raph by R, Eaton White ^ Es<j. 
 
 nasehn' woollevs 
 
 THE NOHTHAMPTONSIllKE HOME OK THE KITZGERAI.DS 
 
 Frotn an oil painliyii^. 
 
 I'l.ATE II.
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 
 31 MARCH 1809 — 1825 
 
 Edward FitzGerald, the famous letter-writer and 
 adapter of Omar Khayyam, was born, 'hither hurried,' 
 'without asking,' and 'with a silver spoon in ^ ^j^^ White 
 his mouth,' at the White House, Bredfield House and the 
 (now called Bredfield House ^), a quaint yet 
 stately brick-built, plaster-coated Jacobean mansion, about 
 a mile and a half to the north of Woodbridge, on 
 the 31st of March 1809. He was the third son of John 
 and Mary Frances Purcell, who were first cousins and of 
 Irish descent ; and in this corner of Suffolk — the country 
 of level wheatfields, noble estuaries, and dwindled towns — 
 FitzGerald spent the greater portion of his life — a life of 
 brilliant lights and dense shadows. Mr. Purcell's father, 
 John Purcell, M.D., who prided himself on his descent 
 from Cromwell, was of Richmond Hill, Dublin ; Mrs. Pur- 
 cell's father, John FitzGerald (sixteenth in lineal descent 
 from Maurice, fourth Earl of Kildare), married his first 
 cousin, Mary, daughter of Keane FitzGerald. John Fitz- 
 Gerald, who is described as of Little Island, Waterford, 
 
 ' The • Bredfield Hall ' of FitzGerald's poem. 
 
 29
 
 30 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 was a man of great wealth, being the owner of vast 
 estates in Ireland, Northants, Suffolk, and elsewhere. 
 The repeated intermarrying in the family may in some 
 measure account for what Edward called the * FitzGerald 
 madness.' Of his maternal grandfather — a handsome, 
 powdered gentleman — Edward has preserved the follow- 
 ing anecdote : ' My grandfather had several parrots ot 
 different sorts and talents. One of them (Billy, I think) 
 could only huff up his feathers in what my grandfather 
 called an owl fashion ; so when company were praising 
 the more gifted parrots, he would say — "You will hurt 
 poor Billy's feelings. Come ! do your little owl, my 
 dear ! "'^ This story, which Mrs. Purcell used to tell her 
 children, much impressed Edward, who often applied it ; 
 and sixty or more years after, when his selections from 
 Crabbe were printing, we find him speaking of having 
 ' done his little owl.' 
 
 The other children of John and Mary Frances Purcell 
 were Mary Frances [1802-1820], John [1803-1879], Anda- 
 lusia (Mrs. De Soy res) [? — 1879], Mary Eleanor (Mrs. 
 Kerrich) [1805-1863], Jane (Mrs. Wilkinson) [1806—?], 
 Pe/er [1807-1875], Isabella (Mrs. Vignati) [i8io-i864].2 
 
 Mr. John Purcell, who upon the death of his wife's 
 father^ in 1818 took the FitzGerald name and arms, and 
 2 F'tzG raid's ^^^^"^ ^^ shall henceforth call Mr. John Fitz- 
 Parents and the Gerald, was a big-built, ruddy-faced, kindly 
 man, but of no account (or not much) beside 
 his wife. He was merely Mrs. FitzGerald's husband. He 
 hunted, shot, served as High Sheriff of the county, and 
 sat in Parliament as member for Seaford, near Brighton, 
 where he had an estate ; living, in short, the life of an 
 
 ^ Letters to Fanny Kemble, p. 142 (Bentley). 
 
 2 Parish Registers of Bredfield. 
 
 3 He is buried at old St. Pancras, London.
 
 FITZGERALD'S MOTHER 
 
 Fi-oniii pitiiilhi.1 I'y Sir I lioiiins I.aiireiicf. 
 
 IM.A I !•; 111.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 33 
 
 ordinary country gentleman. For doing nothing he was 
 peculiarly adapted (he was born to it), and had he only 
 recognised this fact, instead of putting his mediocre talents 
 to use — instead, for example, of indulging in colliery 
 developments on his estate at Pendleton, near Manchester, 
 he might have continued life as he began it, a rich, 
 successful, and happy man. Of the gardens, the well- 
 timbered lawn, the lofty, extensive, and umbrageous 
 coverts (now vanished), ' haunt of hare and pheasant,' the 
 pleasaunces ' dashed by the scarlet-coated hunter, horse, 
 and dappled hound,' and the 'hospitable fires 'of Bred- 
 field Hall, there are deathless memories in FitzGerald's 
 graphic poem of that title. From the road in front of the 
 lawn, glimpses could be caught of men-of-war lying in 
 Hollesley Bay. 
 
 The boy derived his force of character not from ' papa,' 
 but from ' mamma,' ^ who was exceptionally handsome 
 (her beauty dazed kings), gifted, well educated (she knew 
 four languages), a lover of poetry, especially of Crabbe, 
 imperial, as became a daughter of the FitzGeralds of 
 Kildare, and eccentric ; but, better than any description, 
 are the two speaking portraits of her by Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence. One of them was considered by her son to 
 bear a striking resemblance to the Duke of Wellington. 
 In the ofher, which we reproduce, her pride of race is as 
 much in evidence as her beauty, which consisted chiefly 
 in her perfect features and dark, luxuriant hair. From her 
 ears and at her breast hang pendants — apparently pearls — 
 and we are told that she used to wear a bracelet of her 
 husband's hair, with a massive clasp inscribed with the 
 words *Stesso sangue, stessa sorte.'^ Her children felt 
 towards her awe rather than love, and when she came to 
 
 ^ FitzGerald invariably used these words in speaking of his parents. 
 - Fanny Ktmble : Records of a Girlhood, i. 136.
 
 34 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 the nursery 'they were not much comforted by her visit.' 
 Her Junonian beauty brightened, her violent temper de- 
 vastated, the home ; but she did not neglect the religious 
 training of her children, and the prayer at night, which 
 each, in little white surplice, repeated at her knee, sank 
 into their memories ; which was well, for of spiritual 
 advantages out of the house they had few, the pastor of 
 Bredfield being of the old sort, with vermilion nose, 
 caused by good cheer, who used to lay his hat and whip 
 on the Communion table, gabble over the prayers, work 
 his way perfunctorily through a sermon of some one 
 else's composition, and run down the pulpit stairs, with a 
 view to being invited to dinner at the Hall. 
 
 The White House is little changed from the days when 
 FitzGerald and his brothers and sisters lived in it. One 
 apartment, indeed, 'the stone room,' is the same even to 
 the wall-paper, with its pattern of great squares and 
 flowers. Another, 'the magistrates' room,' where Edward 
 'used to be whipped,' is also pointed out; and one may 
 mount to the nursery in one of the gables, the doorway 
 of which still exhibits on each side the grooves made to 
 receive the imprisoning-board, or look out from its small 
 window on to the lawn, and listen to the bells of St. Mary's, 
 Woodbridge, as Edward and his brothers and sisters so 
 often did. Their mother, who was frequently from home 
 — for the FitzGeralds had a handsome town residence in 
 Portland Place, where they usually passed the season — 
 sometimes saw her children only once a fortnight, and in 
 after years Edward would point to the shrubs in front of 
 the house, behind which he used to hide in order to see 
 her coach, 'of a good full yellow colour,' and four black 
 horses come magnificently up the drive. Though he 
 stood in awe of his mother, however, he was both proud 
 and fond of her. In Eiiphranoi% surely, are preserved
 
 j-v .J miM.^^. i.l 
 
 
 O 
 
 
 ■5, 

 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 37 
 
 some reminiscences of his childhood. In idea we see him 
 and his brothers playing in the garden ' wet or dry, re- 
 gardless of aunt's screaming from the window ' for them 
 to come in when a cloud appeared threatening ; we are 
 ' shut up with them for two hours' morning service in the 
 pew without being allowed to go to sleep there,' with 
 nothing provided for our amusement except that finely 
 coloured nose of the vicar's, and teased about text and 
 sermon afterwards ; we ' climb up the poplar in our garden 
 by way of beanstalk,' and get whipped for chasing the 
 sheep about in the neighbouring field. The wealth of 
 the FitzGeralds — derived chiefly from Mrs. FitzGerald's 
 father — enabled them to make at dinners and on other 
 occasions a display which dazzled the eyes of the less 
 favoured ; and we are told particularly of the magnificence 
 of the gold dessert and table ornaments, and their suc- 
 cessors in favour, a set of ground glass and burnished 
 silver, ' so exquisite that the splendid gold service was 
 pronounced infinitely less tasteful and beautiful.' 
 
 At the Red House in the neighbouring village of 
 Hasketon lived Squire Jenny, a friend of Edward's father. 
 The name Red House was probably bestowed 3. The Red 
 upon Squire Jenny's mansion to distinguish House, 
 it from the White or Bredfield House, when the latter 
 was first coated with plaster. Squire Jenny was of a 
 short stature, with long, yellowish face, shaggy eye- 
 brows, and enormous ears — the last quite a monstrosity. 
 An ardent, jovial sportsman of the kind Randolph 
 Caldecott delighted to draw, carrying, when he visited 
 London, a delightful breath of the country into street 
 and house, he shared with FitzGerald's father the cost 
 of keeping a pack of harriers, and adorned his walls 
 with pictures of racehorses, puppies, and jockeys. One 
 picture (painted by a Miss Page, afterwards Mrs. Phillips),
 
 38 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 is here reproduced. It represents the squire in blue coat, 
 whip in hand, 'Going to see sick Betty,' though whether 
 mare, puppy, or woman we are left to imagine. An 
 extremist in the matter of sanitation, he wisely took care 
 that his windows should, whenever possible, be open— a 
 great wonder in those days. If the snow came in he 
 simply had it shovelled out, and would have no carpets — 
 in fact ' nothing comfortable in his house ' : he didn't 
 want to be stifled, he said. On a. Sunday he always 
 attended church in the morning, and spent the rest of 
 the day reading BeWs Life, which, with its big eye, 
 might be seen lying on a great oak table cut from one of 
 his own trees. In the attics, it was understood, were 
 great hampers which nobody ever opened, filled with old 
 china of fabulous value. With Squire Jenny lived his 
 sister Anne — keen housewife, oddity, miser. He liked 
 the smell of the stables, she the colour of current coin, 
 which, however, on reaching her immediately ceased to 
 be current — there it remained. 
 
 The families of FitzGerald and Jenny were extremely 
 intimate, and frequently exchanged visits, dining at ' The 
 White House' like emperors, seated on gilded chairs 
 upholstered with satin, among ancestral portraits and 
 sconces reflecting multitudes of candles, their feet on 
 luxurious carpets. The table groaned with plate, rich 
 foods, choice wines, every dainty to tempt the appetite. 
 These banquets gave the bluff, outspoken squire the 
 occasion for an oft-repeated coarse jest. At ' The Red 
 House' they fared frugally (Miss Jenny, careful soul, 
 seeing to that), and the homeliness of the meal harmon- 
 ised with the cold, hard, shiny, uncomfortable chairs and 
 the naked floors. There was no stint, however, of fresh 
 air. The breezy, good-natured, horsy squire and little 
 Edward soon became the best of friends, and many were
 
 ^. 
 
 ^^st- 
 
 c 
 
 W r- 
 
 z g 
 
 ^-
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 41 
 
 the happy hours spent at Hasketon. But the getting 
 there! The path pierced a dense and dismal wood. 
 FitzGerald told Mrs. Barlow of Hasketon that he never 
 passed through this wood without trembling, even when 
 he held his mother's hand. He fancied sheeted ghosts. 
 Every tree and hedge-clump seemed a shelter for fiery 
 snake, dragon with tusks, hobgoblin with puffy and 
 quilt-like body, or other clammy terrors. In after years, 
 however, that wood was his perpetual delight. 
 
 Among the homes of the FitzGeralds — and they seem 
 to have had as many as six^ at a time — one of them, 
 Naseby Woolleys, has been entirely over- 4. Naseby 
 looked by previous writers. Yet it was here WooUeys. 
 that FitzGerald spent a great part of his early life, and 
 next to Bredfield, this house had most attraction for the 
 FitzGerald family. 
 
 On the map Naseby village looks just like a big butter- 
 fly with dwindled thorax, exaggerated head, and in- 
 ordinately long feelers, the body being inclined to the 
 north-east, whilst the configuration of the neighbouring 
 fields makes well-defined wings. The church is the left 
 eye, the vicarage is in the left wing ; on the right feeler 
 is an 'ass of an obelisk' (of the erection of which we shall 
 presently speak, and which will loom rather large in these 
 pages) ; the left feeler stretches over Mill Hill and the 
 battlefield. Naseby Woolleys is out of the butterfly 
 altogether, far away on the left. Naseby, 'the navel of 
 England,' is 630 feet above the sea level, and gives origin 
 to two of our rivers — the Avon, flowing west, and the Nen, 
 east. In the time of the Rev. John Mastin, vicar, who in 
 1792 wrote on its history and antiquities, and during 
 Edward FitzGerald's boyhood, the houses were built 
 
 ^ Naseby Woolleys, Little Island, Castle Irwell, and the house at Seaford 
 were their own properly.
 
 42 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 'mostly of kealy earth,' and Mastin, a facetious and 
 pleasing chronicler, could not imagine what more any 
 man could wish for who lived in one of these human 
 swallow's nests. Aged people were plentiful. ' They are 
 proverbial, being called " Naseby children," frequently 
 becoming a second time so by age.' A tale is told of one 
 old fellow who cut at seventy ' an entire new and regular 
 set of teeth, which grew to a proper size, and continued firm 
 and good to the time of his death,' at the age of ninety-five — 
 ' so good that he would quarrel with his family for crusts.' 
 The garrulous vicar also observes that, brought up on 
 high ground amid storms and winds, the folk ' vociferate 
 loudly ' in order to be heard above the forces of nature ; 
 and he speaks of three marvellous wells, one of blue 
 water, ' Warren's ' ; one of yellow water, the chalybeate 
 Scrough Hill Spring ; and one of icy coldness, * St. 
 Dennis's,' now filled up. The church, which is in the 
 middle of the village, displayed in FitzGerald's childhood 
 above its tower a great copper ball. ' The FitzGerald 
 Arms,' opposite the church, still reminds of the family, 
 though in name only, for the contemporary edifice has 
 disappeared ; and the stump of the old Market Cross,^ 
 and the ancient Tithe Barn, refer us to the days of monk 
 and missal and payment in kind. Another but less enter- 
 taining account of the parish was furnished in 1830 by 
 Henry Lockinge, one of its curates, who dedicated his 
 book to FitzGerald's father and mother, 'the Lord and 
 Lady of the Manor.' 
 
 For some time Mr. and Mrs. FitzGerald lived at Naseby 
 Woolleys, and subsequently, when it was untenanted, 
 would go there for the summer. The house, which had 
 a verandah in front, and was surrounded by flower gardens, 
 is now much altered. To the east extends Broad Moor, 
 
 ' Now at the end of the village. Another cross occupies its old site.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 43 
 
 the scene of the famous battle of Naseby, and on the west 
 runs the Avon, coaxed at this spot to broaden out into a 
 picturesque artificial lake, the haunt of swan, wild duck, 
 and water-hen. To Mr. FitzGerald's descent, or supposed 
 descent, from Cromwell we have referred, and in the 
 house, which contained many objects of antiquarian in- 
 terest, might have been seen a wooden figure of his 
 reputed ancestor in steel armour, with his actual sword. 
 Cromwell's gold watch, and coins, bullets, and other 
 relics picked up on the battlefield were displayed in glass 
 cases ; and there was a musical clock — the wonder of the 
 neighbourhood — which played eight tunes and set a 
 number of quaint little figures in motion. The Cromwell 
 in armour was too lifelike to be pleasant, especially at' 
 dusk. ' It used to frighten folk so ; it's been dreadful to 
 hear the FitzGerald children scream if they happened to 
 be left alone with it ' ; and we may be sure that Edward, 
 who trembled so in Hasketon Wood, screamed as loudly 
 as the others. Oliver's sword, however, which maintained 
 its virtue, once came in handy, for John Linnet, the 
 gardener, a hardy, vigorous man (no linnet either in 
 heart or person), who was left in charge of the house 
 when the FitzGeralds were away, being once disturbed 
 by burglars, snatched this weapon from Oliver's gaunt- 
 leted hand, and, causing history to repeat itself, sent his 
 foes in full flight across Naseby Field. The number of 
 precious objects in the house was, nevertheless, a source 
 of constant anxiety to poor Linnet, who had frequent need 
 of his intrepidity. Then, too, there were horse-stealers 
 and sheep-stealers — dainty rogues who carried off the 
 prime joints only, leaving contemptuously for the Fitz- 
 Geralds the mangled carcass with the skin. 
 
 Mrs. FitzGerald dearly loved Naseby — every inch of it 
 — delighted to visit it, and to call on, and send or carry
 
 44 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 presents to, her old servants, especially her footman and 
 her nurse (Watchams and his wife), who lived close to 
 the stump of the old cross, in the house at which Edward 
 used afterwards to stay. Well it had been for the Fitz- 
 Geralds had all their dependants been as faithful as 
 doughty John Linnet and the Watchams ; but they had 
 enemies against whom neither Cromwell's well-tried sword 
 nor the indefatigable vigilance of the shepherd could 
 defend them — namely, their own stewards. One of these 
 gentry went off with ;^7ooo, whereupon Mr. FitzGerald 
 provided himself with another steward, who turned out 
 honester, for though he too, by and by, also dis- 
 appeared suddenly, it was with only ;^3000. And what 
 was Mr. FitzGerald doing all this time? He was busy, 
 when not hunting and electioneering, in revolving 
 schemes for making at his Manchester estate untold 
 wealth by coal-mining, but in reality laying foundations 
 for untold anxiety and trouble to himself and all his 
 connections. He was digging a pit for himself and his 
 houses, and his friends and their houses all to tumble into 
 — that was to swallow him and them up as neatly as the 
 gulph in Bible story swallowed up Korah and Dathan 
 and all their belongings. 
 
 Of the friendship between Edward and Mr. Jenny 
 
 we have already spoken. The boy was also devotedly 
 
 attached to another friend of his father, Maior 
 
 5. Major Moor. 
 
 Edward Moor, a meditative and erudite 
 Anglo-Indian and linguist settled at Great Dealings,^ 
 a portly man in stiff, white, broad-brimmed hat, con- 
 siderably too large for his head and constantly threaten- 
 ing to eclipse his eyes, frilled shirt-front, and cut-away 
 coat. When a cadet of thirteen, on board the transport 
 that was to carry him to India, he had seen the Royal 
 
 ' Bealings House.
 
 MAJOR MOOR, WITH STICK P'ROM 'ROYAL GEORtlE' 
 
 I'l.ATE \1.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 47 
 
 George go down — an incident in connection with Moor 
 that FitzGerald often alludes to. This was in 1782. 
 Years after, managing to secure a piece of wood from 
 the sunken vessel, he had made from it a walking-stick, 
 which, out of doors, became his constant companion. 
 One of his first actions on arriving at Madras was, though 
 to him then a rupee was a rupee, to buy an imperfect copy 
 of Shakespeare, whose pages never ceased to delight him. 
 Promotion and opulence followed in due time, and while 
 yet in India he published several works on Hindu subjects, 
 the one that evidently gave him most pleasure to write 
 being the Hindu Pantheon. * Gods ' were the Major's 
 weakness. He collected them as one might collect fossils 
 or postage stamps — rendered them even a sort of rever- 
 ence as the objects of other men's worship, and brought 
 home a posse to Great Bealings — little gods, big gods, 
 squatting gods, and many-armed gods. And at length, 
 wearying of his hobby, he buried the whole collec- 
 tion above-ground in a pyramidal sarcophagus, close to 
 the drive leading to his house. Here, under stone and 
 cement and in Egyptian darkness, they grin to this day. 
 A lover of Tusser and other antique Suffolk writers, and 
 of archaic words and folklore in general, he collected the 
 provincialisms of his native county, and embodied the 
 results of his study in a work called Sujffolk Words (1823). 
 The Major and his Royal George walking-stick and 
 young Edward FitzGerald had many an expedition to- 
 gether. A glorious man for a boy to companion with, 
 he it was who first gave to the future adapter of Omar 
 Khayyam, trotting at his foot, on road or in field, a taste 
 for philology and expressive words, and first interested 
 him in the glittering, odorous, fascinating East. Alas ! 
 the Major, like other folk, had his faults ; but FitzGerald 
 never heard him 'charged with any except one,' and ' that
 
 48 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 was by a very humane friend and fellow-magistrate of 
 his,' who complained that, though the Major discoun- 
 tenanced poaching, he ' sometimes hindered judicial 
 business at the weekly bench,' inasmuch as *you could 
 scarce persuade him of a poor man's guilt. '^ 
 
 FitzGerald's education began at a private school at 
 
 Woodbridge, one of his schoolfellows being Anne Carthew, 
 
 who became the wife of his future near neigh- 
 
 6. Woodbridge. ^ 
 
 hour, Major Pytches- (' Pytches and West- 
 minster Abbey ! '). Even the derivation of the word 
 Woodbridge is interesting to us in the light of Carlyle's 
 lectures on Hero Worship,^ which, as we shall show, 
 exercised no little influence on FitzGerald. ' Woden's 
 Bridge,' ventures the philologist; and if it be urged that 
 there is no bridge over the Deben just there, Imagina- 
 tion must step up to help him. The gaunt, one-eyed 
 god, after stalking disconsolately on the river wall, and 
 eyeing wistfully the opposite and alluring fields of Sutton 
 and Shottisham, suddenly recollects his divinity, puts 
 one leg across the flood, draws the other after it, and the 
 thing is done. He is his own bridge. Those, however, 
 who have not Woden's legs, can still cross the river by 
 taking the ferry, just as nothing can debar the really 
 determined — the Speddings, Carlyles, and FitzGeralds, 
 for example, of these pages — from arriving at the Suttons 
 and Shottishams of their dreams. That FitzGerald was 
 without ambition is, as we shall show, a myth, and a 
 very foolish one. Of those ample and lordly * salt 
 rivers' which form the most striking characteristic of 
 this corner of Suffolk, the Deben is the most picturesque, 
 and many a poet, though none more persistently than 
 
 ^ Sea IVords and Phrases, No. i . 
 
 2 It was of Major Pytches that FitzGerald in 1864 bought ' Little Grange.* 
 
 ^ Odin, or Woden, is the first of Carlyle's heroes.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 49 
 
 Mitford/ has sung its broad and sinuous flood, its islets 
 'green with waving samphire,' its pinnaces, barges, and 
 fishers' skiffs, the ' silvery pennons ' of its sea mews, and 
 the majestic woods that embosom it and creep down to its 
 margin. 
 
 Woodbridge, which, to FitzGerald's mind, was merely 
 the foil for the Deben's renown, is a quaint old market town 
 with a somnolent and obsolete air, save on market days, 
 when for a few hours the inflocking country-folk give it 
 brogue, spirit, and vivacity. Its shipping-trade, formerly 
 considerable, is now almost extinct, but the town keeps up 
 its population level of five thousand, and presents — the 
 old-world market-place excepted — a far smarter appear- 
 ance than it did in FitzGerald's boyhood, which, consider- 
 ing the number of shrunken towns in the vicinity, is a 
 distinction. Proceeding from the station to the market- 
 place, one threads Quay Street and Church Street, crossing 
 on the way the London Road (called on the left Cumber- 
 land Street, and on the right The Thoroughfare) and 
 passing, a little further on, the winding lane that leads to 
 the Friends' Meeting-House — sacred to the memory of 
 Woodbridge's once popular poet, Bernard Barton. In 
 the middle of the market-place, which is wedge-shaped, 
 widening as you proceed from Church Street, stands the 
 Shire Hall, a red-bricked building with exterior flights of 
 steps. At the thin end of the wedge is the Bull Hotel, and 
 from the thick end proceeds Seckford Street, in which are 
 the Seckford Almshouses (rebuilt in 1840), a notable pile, 
 the outcome of the munificence of Thomas Seckford, 
 Woodbridge's Elizabethan philanthropist. Another 
 thoroughfare, extending from the broad end of the 
 
 ^ Rector of Benhall, near Saxmundham, editor of Gray, and for many years 
 editor of the Gentleman's Magazine. Arboriculture his hobby, he made his 
 vicarage famous throughout Suffolk by the great number of ornamental trees 
 which he planted round it.
 
 50 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 market-place, is Theatre Street, which leads past the 
 Grammar School (also Seckfordian), erected in 1865, 
 towards Farlingay ; ^ while branching from Theatre Street 
 is Bredfield Road, leading to Bredfield and Boulge. As 
 you stand in the market-place and face 'The Bull,' you 
 have on your right St. Mary's church, and on your left 
 the gunsmith's shop, which, on account of its FitzGerald 
 associations, will have much prominence later in this 
 history. North of the market-place and its western 
 tributary New Street, the ground rises gently and forms 
 Mill Hill, the view from which, looking towards the river 
 and Sutton, is cut by the intervening spire of St. John's 
 church,^ and hard by is ' Little Grange,' of which we shall 
 shortly have so much to say. To the south-west of the 
 town lies Martlesham, lighting up the county with its red 
 and gold Lion (' red as Martlesham Lion ' being a Suffolk 
 saying), an object that must have satisfied even a colour- 
 loving FitzGerald ; to the north-east is Ufford, the home 
 of Captain Brooke. 
 
 Owing to the recent widening of the river wall, the 
 erection of a bandstand and shelters, and the creation of 
 an artificial beach, Woodbridge and its river, studded with 
 the white sails of pleasure-craft, have taken on the habit 
 of a seaside resort. When the tide is up, indeed, it is 
 impossible to disabuse yourself of the idea that you are at 
 Aldeburgh or Felixstowe. A few yellow sea-poppies 
 would quite complete the illusion. 7 ^ 
 
 When Edward was five the family went to reside in 
 France, first at St. Germains and afterwards in Paris, 
 
 , _ where they took a house that had been 
 
 7. In France. •' 
 
 The Rodez Robespierre's. For several years they 
 murder. fluctuated between Paris and Bredfield, resid- 
 
 ing a few months in France and a few months in England 
 
 ^ For some years FitzGerald's home. '^ Erected in 1842.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 51 
 
 by turns. If Edward was at Bredfield in the middle of 
 1815, he probably saw 'the long strings of tumbrils laden 
 with Waterloo wounded passing through Woodbridge on 
 their way from Yarmouth to London.' He was certainly 
 at Bredfield in the middle of the following year, for he 
 speaks of the anniversary of the battle being celebrated 
 throughout the country with feasting and sports. Among 
 the places in gala was a village adjoining Bredfield, 
 and the people borrowed of FitzGerald's father a pair of 
 Wellington boots for the legs of a stuffed effigy of Buona- 
 parte, at which they discharged guns and pistols, while the 
 quality, including the parson of the parish and Edward, 
 sat in a tent eating beef and plum-pudding and drinking 
 loyal toasts.^ 
 
 In 181 7, when the boy was again in Paris, occurred in 
 France an event that ate itself deeply into his memory — 
 the assassination of M. Fualdes, a magistrate of Rodez — 
 'the great murder,' and 'one of the most interesting 
 events in all history to him,' he is sorry to say. It was 
 not only the murder itself that impressed him, ' but the 
 scene it was enacted in ; the ancient, half Spanish city 
 of Rodez, with its river Aveyron, its lonely boulevards, 
 its great cathedral, under which the deed was done.'^ 
 Murders whose incidents were picturesque or suggestive of 
 chiaroscuro, or which exposed the bed and secret recesses 
 of the soul, whether of the assailer or the victim, excited 
 his deep and perennial interest ; whereas a brutal common 
 murder, unaccompanied by startling psychological acces- 
 sories, only disgusted him. Thus early did the artist and 
 the philosopher reveal themselves ; but we are not to 
 forget, while chronicling this, that FitzGerald was the milk 
 of human kindness — boy or man, lovable and beloved. 
 
 ^ Life of Lord Houghton, by Wemyss Reid, ii. 406. 
 2 Letters to Fanny Kemble (Bentley), pp. 85 and 90. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 52 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Next year he was taken to the Ambigu Comique to see 
 a play, the Chateau de Paluzzi, which was said to be 
 founded on the Rodez murder ; and he remembered ' a 
 closet, from which came some guilty personage.' 
 
 On 19th June 1820 there was a death in the family — 
 that of FitzGerald's eldest sister, Mary Frances, at the 
 age of eighteen. She was buried by the side of Mrs. 
 FitzGerald's father, in the family vault in old St. Pancras 
 church. Another trouble was the defective eyesight of 
 his sister Isabella. It is agreeable, however, to be able 
 to record that the poor girl (who was an accomplished 
 pianist), after suffering blindness for nine years, partially 
 recovered her sight. 
 
 The FitzGeralds often made excursions to the quaint and 
 attractive, if rather moist and woebegone, watering-place 
 8, Aideburgh: of Aldeburgh ; with its fens and meres, habitat 
 Mary Lynn. ^f ^h^ sallow, the septfoil, and the 'soft, slimy 
 mallow ' ; and its level fields, in which leisurely oxen, 
 that might have just stepped out of the Bible, still drag 
 harrow and plough ; with its time-old, brick-noggined, 
 picturesque moot-house, pleasant sands, and miles of 
 shifting, rattling shingle. Edward's playmate during 
 these visits was a pretty, fun-loving little girl named 
 Mary Lynn, niece of his good friend Major Moor of 
 Dealings. Sixty years later he renewed his acquaintance 
 with Miss Lynn in the same town, and spoke of her 
 pleasantly as one of his ' old friends — and flames — Mary 
 Lynn — (pretty name).' Here, too, he underwent the 
 terrible experience of being ' ruthlessly ducked into the 
 wave that came like a devouringf monster' under the 
 awning of a bathing-machine — a structure whose inside 
 he detested to his dying day. He was much struck by 
 the melancholy and desolation of the neighbouring 
 Slaughden, with its sloops sticking sidelong in the mud.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 53 
 
 its wilderness of shingle, its soppy, clammy banks, and 
 its ferry that takes you — if the eye is to be relied upon — 
 to nowhere. 
 
 About George Crabbe, Aldeburgh's poet, FitzGerald 
 at this time probably thought little enough, paddling in 
 the sea or romping in the sands with his g. The Poet 
 merry playmate. Still, he thought some- Crabbe. 
 thing, for, thanks to his mother's partiality for that poet, 
 Crabbe was his horn-book. He picked up lines from 
 ' The Village ' and ' The Parish Register ' with his ABC 
 and the Lord's Prayer. The poet Crabbe (and he looms 
 so large in FitzGerald's life that it is better to set down at 
 once the cardinal events of his career) was born in 1754 at 
 Aldeburgh, the son of a saltmaster or collector of salt 
 dues at Slaughden Quay. In 1771 he was apprenticed to 
 a Mr. Page,^ surgeon at Woodbridge, where he wrote his 
 first lengthy poem, ' Inebriety,' in 1775. Four years 
 later he returned to Aldeburgh, where for a time he prac- 
 tised, though with small success, as a surgeon ; and in 
 1780, at the age of twenty-six, he went up to London in the 
 Unity sloop, as FitzGerald so often impresses upon us, to 
 try his fortune — in literature above all things. Strange to 
 say, after a brief struggle with poverty he succeeded ; but 
 the story of his trials and success should be read in that 
 entrancing fairy tale, which has the additional charm of 
 being true. The Life of the Rev. George Crabhe, by his 
 son. In 1 781 he entered the church, and was appointed 
 curate of his native town. In 1783 appeared his first 
 important poem, ' The Village,' and in 1785 'The News- 
 paper.' As regards his writings, there now ensued a 
 huge gap of twenty-two years. Then came ' The Parish 
 Register' (1807), 'The Borough' (1810), 'Tales' (1812), 
 
 ^ Mr. Page's daughter was the mother of FitzGerald's friend, Lord 
 Hatherley.
 
 54 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 and 'Tales of the Hall' (1819). After holding livings in 
 various parts of Suffolk, and spending seven years in 
 Leicestershire, Crabbe settled at Trowbridge (181 2) ; and 
 in 182 1, when FitzGerald and Mary Lynn were romping 
 together on Aldeburgh sands, he had still some ten 
 years to live. 
 
 Even the most venturesome and intrepid lover of 
 literature might hesitate before entering that vast jungle 
 which is Crabbe ; and the poet's sad habit of enclosing 
 a tale or tales within a tale — his love for centric and 
 eccentric wheels — adds confusion to confusion. The 
 adventurer, however, would be well repaid for his trouble ; 
 for the poems contain many words of wisdom, very many 
 striking, and not a few humorous passages, and here and 
 there a complete tale excellently told. 
 
 The chief attraction of ' The Parish Register ' is ' Roger 
 Cuff';^ of 'The Tales' none are more beseeching than 
 'The Frank Courtship '2 (vi.), and 'The Widow's Tale'^ 
 (vii.), whilst of ' The Tales of the Hall ' the best are the 
 inner stories of ' The Maid's Story ' and ' Sir Owen Dale.' 
 Abundant, too, is the debt we owe to Crabbe for setting 
 before us, with Cuyp-like, or even photographic exactness, 
 picture after picture of the long, low Suffolk sea-board, 
 and of Aldeburgh in particular — that Andromeda of the 
 East Anglian coast, around whom, for centuries, the great 
 sea dragon has shown, and now and again savagely used, 
 
 ' ' Now to his grave was Roger Cuff conveyed.' 
 
 - Of the girl whose parents were afraid she would refuse the man of their 
 choice. In reality, however, her ideas coincided with theirs, and it ends : 
 
 ' Dear child ! in three plain words thy mind express — 
 "Wilt thou have this good youth?"—" Dear father ! Yes." ' 
 
 ' Of a boarding-school miss, who had despised household duties and repulsed 
 a worthy farmer suitor, but afterwards got rid of her pettish humours, and 
 prettily gave the young man encouragement. 
 
 ' To useful arts she turned her hand and eye, 
 And by her manners told him — " You may try." '
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 55 
 
 his terrible teeth. In Crabbe, indeed, you ever hear the 
 sough, the plash, and the moan of the sea, and ever look 
 upon fretted sands and far-extending sea banks, viri- 
 descent with samphire and many-branched saltwort ; 
 whilst seeing or hearing, you are never allowed to get 
 away from a moral — 
 
 ' 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 thoughts and idle weeds.' ' 
 
 Slaughden has fallen even from the humble importance 
 it had in FitzGerald's early days. Its shipping-trade has 
 much decreased, and little remains of the village save a 
 few houses, some half-buried in shingle, a woebegone inn 
 — FitzGerald's favourite ' Three Mariners ' — and a lonely, 
 useless, trefoil -shaped, gigantic tea-cake called the 
 * Martello Tower,' which lords it over the shifting and 
 rattling shingle. A more weird or desolate scene could 
 not be imagined. Cheerless indeed must it be on a wild 
 day in winter when there are no sea-poppies with their 
 glorious yellow to transform the pebbly wilderness into a 
 garden of the Lord ; and when the soft, purring, tumbling 
 sea, transformed into a demon, precipitates itself in un- 
 propitiable fury upon the devoted and disappearing village. 
 Winter after winter has the ' Three Mariners ' stood the 
 shock. Often and often has the sea rushed in at one door 
 and out at the other ; but, courageously as the onslaught 
 has been met, the conflict cannot go on for ever. There 
 will come a day when the mop of the good wife of the 
 ' Three Mariners ' will trundle out the German Ocean for 
 the last time, and all that will be left of one of FitzGerald's 
 most frequented haunts will be the site where it stood — 
 if even that. 
 
 * Fragment written at Aldeburgh, 1779.
 
 56 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 The boy loved to mingle with the sailors, and to hear 
 their creepy tales of smugglers and vaulted caves stocked 
 with tea and tobacco and tubs of spirits. Every fishy 
 little village and inlet of the Suffolk coast, from Kirkley to 
 Sizewell Gap, had its story of daring adventure. There 
 was the tale of the funeral in Kirkley churchyard, said to be 
 of somebody who died at sea, though as a matter of fact the 
 coffin was full of silks — the sham mourners wearing cloaks 
 and hatbands, and the duped parson solemnly reading the 
 burial-service at the grave. The boy heard also of kegs 
 of Hollands being found under the altar-cloth of Theberton 
 church, dreamt of ' chopped hay ' (contraband tobacco) and 
 'run tea,' and looked with awe on the revenue cutters 
 which passed Aldeburgh, especially remembering one 
 that went down with all hands — the Ranger. 
 
 Mrs. FitzGerald, as we said, was frequently in London, 
 and no woman in society dressed better or looked more 
 queenly. Her superb beauty, heightened by 
 Haymarket her rare taste in dress, expected, and every- 
 Theatre. where received, adulation. She delighted in 
 
 the theatre, had a box ' on the third tier ' at the Haymarket, 
 and numbered among her friends Mrs. Charles Kemble, 
 one of the wittiest and most agreeable women of the 
 time ; and Mrs. Kemble's children, John Mitchell, now 
 remembered as a distinguished Anglo-Saxon scholar ; 
 Fanny (afterwards the ' divine Fanny '), a troublesome and 
 unmanageable child, often crowned with a fool's cap ; and 
 Adelaide (who became Mrs. Sartoris), were occasionally 
 Edward's playmates. A miniature of Mrs. Charles 
 Kemble ' in a white dress and blue scarf, looking with 
 extended arms upward in a blaze of light,' was among 
 Mrs. FitzGerald's treasures. The boy Edward, whose 
 affection for the stage, to use his own expression, was 
 inherited, often accompanied his mother to the theatre (the
 
 1 h :^ 
 
 z 
 a 
 
 o 
 o 
 
 X 
 
 •J 
 2 
 
 ^ 
 
 §•
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 59 
 
 very pillars of the old Haymarket were dear to him), 
 heard Madame Vestris/ in her Pamela hat with a red 
 feather, sing 'Cherry Ripe'; Miss Stephens, 'We're 
 a' Noddin' ' ; Rubini,^ Braham,^ and Vaughan ; and 
 saw and retailed anecdotes about Madame Pasta ^ the 
 actress, and Mile. Taglioni ^ the danseuse — ' a dream, a 
 vision, floating, literally floating^ before one's eyes as 
 the "Sylphide."' 
 
 John, FitzGerald's elder brother, had been for some 
 years at King Edward the Sixth's School at Bury St. 
 Edmunds under Dr. Malkin;^ and in 1821, ^^ At Bury 
 the year he left, Edward and his brother Peter 1821. Peter's 
 were sent there. The King Edward's School 
 of those days^ was the long building in Northgate Street, 
 now used as a High School for girls. Over the school- 
 room door was a bust of the founder with a Latin inscrip- 
 tion,^ and from the dining-room, which was on the south 
 side, extended a passage which led to the pupils' 
 studies, situated in the garden. Dr. Malkin, troubled 
 with lameness, was a portly, intellectual-looking, hand- 
 some man, brimming with energy — hearty, genial, 
 humorous ; Mrs. Malkin, a woman of much strength of 
 character, was dignified, vivacious, and kind. Many years 
 
 ^ Madame Vestris (1797-1856), actress. She appeared at Drury Lane in 1820, 
 and became famous in The Haunted Tozver and Paul Pry. 
 
 - Giambattista Rubini (1795-1854), great tenor singer. 
 
 ^ John Braham (1774-1856), tenor singer. His first great success was at 
 Drury Lane in 1796. 
 
 "* Guidetta Pasta (1798- 1865), actress and opera singer. Her most splendid 
 triumphs were won in London and Paris from 1825 to 1833. 
 
 ^ Maria Taglioni (1804-1884), celebrated danseuse. Made her debut in Paris 
 in 1827, where she caused a perfect furore. Her success was equally great in 
 London, 
 
 8 There is a monument to him in St. James's Church, Bury. Sir Benjamin 
 Heath Malkin, friend of Macaulay, was his eldest son. Another son, Frederick, 
 wrote a History of Greece. 
 
 ^ The present school, finished in 1883, is in the vineyard of the old abbey. 
 
 ^ The bust is gone, the inscription remains.
 
 6o LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 after, when Adelaide Kemble remarked to Edward Fitz- 
 Gerald, ' How charming Mrs. Malkin appears to be ! ' he 
 rephed enthusiastically, ' Oh, you can never know how 
 charming she was ; you were never a schoolboy under 
 her care.' ^ The school has always had a high reputation, 
 its pupils having carried off numbers of the Cambridge 
 classical prizes, and many have risen to eminence. One 
 of its features was the unusual amount of attention devoted 
 to English literature, and the pains Dr. Malkin took to 
 make his pupils good English as well as good classical 
 scholars. There was much essay-writing, and the essays 
 that gained approbation were honoured with a place in a 
 series of large volumes entitled Musae Burienses. The 
 year that Edward entered (1821), the subjects were 'Mr. 
 Hogarth's compliments to Mr. King, and requests the 
 honour of his company to dinner on Thursday next to 
 Eta Beta Pi,' and 
 
 ' At her feet he bowed ' {Judges v. 27) ; 
 
 and among the essays honoured were those of John 
 FitzGerald, who treated the first theme as though its 
 meaning was equivocal, and considered the second as a 
 warranty for comparing the poetry of the Hebrews with 
 that of Pindar and other Greek lyrists. A more suitable 
 school for the particular genius of Edward FitzGerald — 
 for the incipient poet and letter-writer — could not have 
 been found in all England. Among his schoolfellows 
 were his old playmate J. M. Kemble (destined to be 
 'Anglo-Saxon Kemble'), Tom and James Spedding, 
 Arthur Malkin — a stutterer, 'always very kind' to Fitz- 
 Gerald — W. Bodham Donne and William Airy (some 
 day to be Vicar of Keysoe), all of whom became his life- 
 long friends. Donne was of the same stock as the poet 
 
 ^ Further Records (Fanny Kemble), ii. 179.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AiND THE RED HOUSE 6i 
 
 Cowper, whose mother was great-aunt to both Donne's 
 parents, while Donne's own great-aunt was the Mrs. 
 Anne Bodham who presented Cowper with the portrait 
 which led to the writing of ' The Lines on the Receipt ot 
 my Mother's Picture.' 
 
 Few towns are historically more interesting than Bury, 
 with its monastic ruins, the great Abbey Gate, the noble 
 Norman Tower, the quaint Jews' House, Moyses Hall 
 (now a museum), Cupola House, the reputed residence 
 of Daniel Defoe, and the fine churches, St. Mary's and 
 St. James's — the latter with the pilgrim's staff and scrip, 
 and the dragon sprawling on a chalice over the great 
 entrance. St. James's was the church which the pupils 
 of the school attended in their caps and gowns, certain 
 seats having time out of mind been set apart for them. 
 There seem to have been about sixty pupils, half of whom 
 were day scholars or 'royalists,' the rest boarders or 
 'foreigners.' The schoolroom, with great oak beams in 
 the ceiling and a platform at one end, presents the same 
 appearance as it did in FitzGerald's boyhood ; and one 
 may still see, though not there, for they are now in the 
 new school, the old desks — massive, ink-stained, and knife- 
 hacked. Before me lie one of the school exercise-books, 
 with the white printed label, ' Gulielm. Airy, Reg. Schol. 
 Buriensis,' and the date ist September 1823, and the 
 speech-day programmes and prize-lists for 24th June 1824, 
 and 28th June 1825. In 1824 Airy recites 'Catarach,' 
 from Beaumont and Fletcher's play ; Spedding minor 
 (James), Gray's ' Bard ' ; J. M. Kemble, who had himself 
 ' the profile of Alexander as seen on medals ' — straight 
 nose, parted lips, ample hair — 'Alexander's Feast' ; whilst 
 to FitzGerald minor (our FitzGerald) was allotted ' Mr. 
 Bickerstaff,' — Swift. On another occasion Kemble recited 
 Hotspur's speech, beginning, ' My liege, I did deny no
 
 62 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 prisoners ' — the best piece of declamation FitzGerald ever 
 listened to. 
 
 FitzGerald major (Peter), a rather innocent boy, though 
 original enough out of school, was very much of a dullard. 
 He was invariably beaten, and badly, by FitzGerald 
 minor, who always had one of the speeches on speech- 
 day. Owing, however, to his ingenuity and originality, 
 Peter obtained honours among his companions in the 
 playground and out of bounds. Accustomed at home to 
 driving his mother's four-in-hand, that noticeable equip- 
 age ' of a good full yellow colour ' with black horses, he 
 used at Bury to make up for the loss of this diversion by 
 walking out to meet the London coach, the ribbons of 
 which he was permitted to handle. But his reckless 
 driving frightened the passengers, and they complained 
 to Dr. Malkin, who put a stop to the proceeding. Sub- 
 sequently complaint was made to the doctor that Peter 
 had been seen dressed as a mute 'driving a hearse 
 with four horses carrying plumes,' to which the doctor 
 replied drily, 'I don't see that I need interfere unless 
 the passenger complained.'^ 
 
 FitzGerald looked back with pleasure to the days spent 
 at Bury, and often revisited his old haunts. He would 
 talk of the ruins, the noble and massy towered gateways, 
 St. James's church, with its sun-dial motto, ' Go about 
 your business,' 2 and the 'good old Angel.' Thus Bury, 
 which had coloured the lives of Defoe and Goldsmith, ^ 
 entered also, and for good, into the being of Edward 
 FitzGerald. 
 
 In 1823 FitzGerald's father and mother, who describe 
 themselves as 'Lord and Lady of the Manor of Naseby,' 
 erected, a little to the north-east of Naseby village, an 
 
 1 Clyde's Life of Edward FitzGerald. ^ See Preface to Polonius. 
 
 ' Associated with Barton Hall.
 
 ^^^^j!R/»^c•y»^.SM^ ^^ ' m t 
 THK OBKMSK. NASKHV 
 
 ERECTED IIV FITZGKRALD'S FATHER AND MO'I HEK 
 
 PLATE VIII.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 65 
 
 obelisk to commemorate the famous battle. Owing to 
 the fact that it stands not on the battlefield but a good 
 mile away, Carlyle has hurled at this obelisk la.TheNaseby 
 a perfect dictionary of abusive epithets. Obehsk. 
 To this 'foolish Naseby monument,' erected by 'a 
 blundering Irishman,' * obstacle rather than obelisk,' 
 'this deluding obelisk,' this *ass of a column,' 'block- 
 head obelisk,' that ' might as well stand at Charing Cross, 
 the blockhead that it is ! ' we shall often in these pages 
 have occasion to refer. It will be quite a landmark for 
 us. 
 
 Of Bernard Barton, the Quaker poet of Woodbridge, 
 Charles Lamb's ' B. B.' and ' Busy Bee,' FitzGerald must 
 have heard at an early age, for his mother 13. Bernard 
 was one of Barton's admirers and staunchest Barton, 
 friends, but how soon the two became personally ac- 
 quainted we do not know. Barton, who had first come 
 to Woodbridge in 1806, married a Woodbridge girl, 
 who died the following year after giving birth to their 
 only child, Lucy. He then removed to Liverpool, where 
 he stayed twelve months, and finally settled at Wood- 
 bridge as clerk in Messrs. Alexander and Co.'s bank. Had 
 he only remained at Liverpool — he and that baby daughter 
 of his — how many heartaches, how much poignant sorrow, 
 how many tears would have been spared Edward Fitz- 
 Gerald ! Inspired chiefly by the verses of the elder 
 Quaker poet, John Scott of Amwell,^ Barton began him- 
 self to rhyme, and between 1822 and 1828 he published 
 five volumes of poetry. His work has some prettinesses, 
 and much wholesome and Christianly advice, but little 
 polish ; indeed, whilst he liked to set down what issued 
 spontaneously, he abhorred, and could not be got to see 
 the necessity of, revision. He corresponded with Southey, 
 
 ^ John Scott, 1730-17S3.
 
 66 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Byron, and Charles Lamb, and would possibly have 
 abandoned the bank in favour of literature but for the 
 strenuous urgings of the last two. Byron said, ' If you 
 have a profession, retain it'; Lamb: 'Throw yourself 
 rather, my dear sir, from the steep Tarpeian rock, slap- 
 dash headlong upon iron spikes. . . . Trust not to the 
 public. ... I bless every star that Providence, not see- 
 ing good to make me independent, has seen it next good 
 to settle me upon the stable foundation of Leadenhall. 
 Sit down, good B. B., in the banking office. What! is 
 there not from 6 to ii p.m. six days in the week, and is 
 there not all Sunday ? Fie, what a superfluity of man's 
 time, if you could think so ! Enough for relaxation, 
 mirth, converse, poetry, good thoughts, quiet thoughts. 
 Oh the corroding, torturing, tormenting thoughts that 
 disturb the brain of the unlucky wight who must draw 
 upon it for daily sustenance ! Henceforth I retract all 
 my fond complaints of mercantile employment — look 
 upon them as lovers' quarrels. I was but half in 
 earnest. Welcome, dead timber of a desk that gives 
 me life.' ^ 
 
 So Barton clung to his bank, and he and his daughter, 
 destined to become FitzGerald's wife, remained at Wood- 
 bridge. He rarely leaves the town, except to see his 
 friends Mr. and Mrs. Arthur Biddell, at Playford, or to 
 visit Benhall, where Mitford seats him under a chestnut 
 and listens to his oracular sayings. Like his sister the 
 nightingale, he has a grievous defect. 'She devours 
 glow-worms, he takes snuff. "-^ He loves art, of which 
 he knows nothing, and becomes the easy prey of wily 
 and unscrupulous picture-dealers. 
 
 In 1823 occurred the second 'great murder' of Fitz- 
 Gerald's recollection— that done on Mr. William Weare 
 
 1 9th January 1823. 2 Mitford.
 
 THE WHITE HOUSE AND THE RED HOUSE 67 
 
 by the notorious John Thurtell. Charles Lamb, Lord 
 Lytton,^ Theodore Hook, and Carlyle, with his gig- 
 manity,- have taken care that this tragic event 14. The Maple's 
 shall not escape our memory. Thurtell was ^^*^- 
 executed at Hertford on 9th January 1824. ' 'Tis twelve 
 o'clock,' observes Lamb to Bernard Barton, 'and Thurtell 
 is just now coming out upon the new drop.' The attrac- 
 tion to FitzGerald of murders presenting startling psycho- 
 logical features has already been noticed, and this one — 
 he was now a lad of fourteen — made an impression on 
 him only less vivid than that of the Rodez murder ; and 
 more than fifty years after we find him dwelling upon 
 one moving — he calls it 'sublime' — circumstance: that 
 of Thurtell sending for his accomplice Hunt, who had 
 saved himself by turning King's evidence, and, after 
 shaking hands with him, saying ' God bless you — God 
 bless you ; you couldn't help it — I hope you '11 live to be 
 a good man.'^ An additional prominence was given to 
 this tragic event by the publication of the lines entitled 
 'The Owl,' by the Rev. John Mitford, the weirdness and 
 picturesqueness of the first stanza of which appealed 
 forcibly to many — 
 
 ' The maple's head 
 
 Was glowing red, 
 And red were the wings of the autumn sky, 
 
 But a redder gleam 
 
 Rose from the stream 
 That dabbled my feet as I glided by.' * 
 
 ^ He utilised the circumstances in the incident of the murder of Sir John 
 Tyrrell by Thornton and Dawson in Pelham. 
 
 - Weare was driving in a gig from London to Gill's Hill. Q. What sort of 
 person was Mr. Weare? — A. He was always a respectable person. Q. What 
 do you mean by respectable? — A. He kept a gig. — Report of Thurtell's Trial. 
 See Carlyle's essay on ' Richter' {Essays, vol. iii. p. 537. Ashburton Ed.). 
 
 ^ See Letters to Fanny KernbU (Bentley), p. 152. 
 
 * These lines, according to Mrs. FitzGerald, who was herself much struck 
 with them, first appeared in Raw's Pocket-Book ; they may also be seen in the 
 Gentleman's Magazine for October 1837.
 
 68 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 For Mr. Mitford's writings FitzGerald had considerable 
 admiration, and late in life he took the trouble to collect 
 them. 
 
 In 1825, when FitzGerald was sixteen and about to 
 leave Bury School, his father and mother moved from 
 Bredfield to Wherstead.
 
 BOOK II 
 
 Wherstead 
 Ten Years (1825-1835)
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 
 1825 — NOVEMBER 183O 
 
 Wherstead is situated about two miles to the south of 
 Ipswich, from which it is approached by a practically 
 straight road commanding fine views of the 15. wherstead 
 Orwell. On the right is Stoke Park, and on ^"^^ Ipswich, 
 the left an inn showing on its signboard a figure of an 
 ostrich and the legend Priidens quipatiensy derived from the 
 crest of the Earls of Leicester who formerly had property 
 in the parish. Thence one mounts Bourn Hill, enters 
 its red sand-gorge, fantastic with pendulous boughs and 
 bright with yellow of broom and silver of stellaria, passes 
 the lodge at the entrance of Wherstead Park, and follows 
 a drive which, winding through a covert thick with 
 ornamental shrubs, brings one at last to the house — 
 ' Wherstead Lodge ' — a loftily and pleasantly situated 
 eighteenth century residence of white brick, covered with 
 climbing plants and surrounded by magnificent ornamental 
 trees. Wherstead Lodge boasts an imposing hall and 
 staircase, and in FitzGerald's time it possessed a valuable 
 collection of pictures, including canvases by Canaletto, 
 Lely, and Reynolds, brought together by the builder of the 
 house. Sir Robert Harland. It was at Wherstead Park in 
 1823, just before the FitzGeralds' arrival, that the Duke of 
 Wellington accidentally discharged his gun in the face 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 72 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 of Lord Granville. FitzGerald interested himself in the 
 villagers of Wherstead, particularly in the old women, 
 one of whom, Mrs. Chaplin,^ was his pensioner. Wher- 
 stead church has a beautifully carved Norman doorway, 
 and displays above its striking embattled tower a huge 
 black ball, formerly a sailing-mark for vessels navigating 
 the Orwell. FitzGerald's friend. Dr. Merivale, Dean of 
 Ely, once asked what the ball was for, and, on being told, 
 remarked drily that he was glad to find that any use 
 could be made of a church. From the churchyard and its 
 vicinage glorious views are seen of the Orwell, which, 
 just there trending eastward, presents the appearance of 
 an extensive lake fringed by picturesque woodlands and 
 verdurous commons. The ghost of Gainsborough haunts 
 these levels, and the heron (there are cormorants no 
 longer) stands with shrugged shoulders fishing in the 
 ooze, or rises in flight, his long legs slanting behind him, 
 while the passing boatman rests his oars and lustily cries 
 ' Frank ! ' 
 
 If FitzGerald drew little spiritual nutriment from the 
 vicar of Bredfield, it is to be feared that he got even less 
 from the vicar of Wherstead. This gentleman, the Rev. 
 George Capper, though an improvement on the generality 
 of the clergy of his time, was not only a pluralist (having 
 three livings) and a mighty fox-hunter, but spent the 
 greater part of the summer on his yacht, and was therefore 
 to all intents and purposes an absentee. In 'the sport 
 divine * his congregation were no less interested than 
 himself. It is recorded that one Sunday morning during 
 service a villager who had elected to sleep in the porch 
 instead of inside the church, noticed, just as he was 
 settling himself comfortably, a vixen stealing along in 
 the grass among the tombs. Forgetting all about time 
 
 ^ She died March 1844, aged eighty-four.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 
 
 THE HOME OF THE FITZGEKALDS FOR TEN YEAKS (1825-1835) 
 Frotn a photograph by R. Eaton ll'hite, Esq. 
 
 »sl:.^ 
 
 IHK FKURV, CHESTERTON 
 Prom a photograph t'y II'. Tams^ Cambridge. 
 
 PI. ATI IX.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 75 
 
 and place, he jumped up and cried vociferously 'Tally-ho! 
 Tally-ho ! There she goes ! ' and the congregation, to a 
 man, rushed pell-mell out of the church. One piously 
 hopes that the vicar only looked out of the window. 
 
 Ipswich, lying so near to Wherstead, was naturally a 
 frequent haunt of FitzGerald, and he had there several 
 friends, including the Rev. J. T. Nottige.^ The town is 
 of course rich in mediaeval and ecclesiastical associations. 
 But it was its book-shops and not its churches that en- 
 deared it to FitzGerald. The establishment which he 
 most favoured was that of a Mr. James Reed. Here he 
 browsed continually. The novel was just then beginning 
 to shoulder the biography and the history out of the 
 shelves. The Talisman, successor of so many other fine 
 stories, had but lately appeared, and in the words of a 
 rhyme then going the round, ' Nothing drew but Sir 
 Walter Scott.' Scott had no greater admirer than Fitz- 
 Gerald, who read and re-read him. 
 
 On 6th February 1826 FitzGerald was entered at Trinity 
 College, Cambridge. He went into residence in the 
 following October, lodging at Mrs. Perry's, 16. At Cam- 
 subsequently Oakley's, No. 19 King's Parade, bridge, 1826- 
 with the imposing chapel of King's College 
 to meet his eyes when he looked out of window in the 
 morning. Trinity College consists mainly of three great 
 courts. The first and largest is entered by a noble Tudor 
 gateway ornamented with a statue of Henry viii., of meek 
 and celibate memory. Entering the great court you 
 notice in the middle the conduit, on your right are the 
 chapel and King Edward's tower, and on your left Queen's 
 tower — the rest of the quadrangle being mainly occupied 
 by the apartments of fellows and students. A semi-circular 
 flight of steps on the west side brings you to a passage, 
 
 * He died 2 ist January 1S47.
 
 76 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 ' The Screens ' (with the hall on the right and the kitchen 
 on the left), leading into the cloistered or Neville's court, 
 the west side of which is occupied by the library, designed 
 by Wren. Thence one can reach the third large quad- 
 rangle, the New Court, and approach the river by an 
 avenue of limes. The master of Trinity in FitzGerald's 
 time was Christopher Wordsworth, youngest brother of 
 the poet, and ' like all the Wordsworths, pompous and 
 priggish.' He recommended everybody to read Aristo- 
 phanes.^ His drawling out of the chapel responses led the 
 undergraduates to call him the ' meeserable sinner,' and 
 naturally it occurred to them to call his brother ' the 
 meeserable poet.' Among the tutors were the future Dean 
 Peacock and Connop Thirlwall (afterwards Bishop of 
 St. David's). Just as FitzGerald entered Cambridge there 
 left it, and in ill odour, an Edward Marlborough Fitz- 
 Gerald, a fact which, combined with other reasons not 
 given, caused FitzGerald to dislike heartily his own name, 
 and led him on most occasions to use as a signature 
 merely the initials E. F. G. Among his fellow-students 
 was John Allen, who became Archdeacon of Salop, and 
 for his few sins stood to Thackeray for the portrait of the 
 tender-hearted gaby Captain Dobbin. ^ Allen was a tall, 
 thin, dark youth with black hair and a plaintive voice. 
 He occupied rooms in Queen Elizabeth's tower at the top 
 of a treble flight of steps, which his crane legs mounted 
 three at a time.^ Chief of FitzGerald's friends, however, 
 was William Makepeace Thackeray, who went into resi- 
 dence in 1829. His rooms were on the ground-floor of the 
 great court, one set of chambers removed from the chapel. 
 
 ^ See Gentlemafi's Magazine, vol. xxiii. p. 459. 
 
 ^ In Vanity Fair. 
 
 ^ Mr. W. Aldis Wright writes to me : 'John Allen, afterwards Archdeacon, 
 went into the rooms at the top of the Queen's Gateway on the south side of the 
 old court in the Lent term of 1829. This would be his second term of residence.'
 
 FITZGERALD'S LODGINGS (MRS. PERRY'S) 
 
 ig king's I'ARADE, CAMBRIDGE (.NOW DEMOLISHEIj) 
 From a p:iotOj;rafli by II'. lams, CambrUge. 
 
 PLATE X.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 79 
 
 To Thackeray, FitzGerald was by turns Ned, Neddibus, 
 Neddikins, and Yedward. Other friends of this period 
 were Francis Duncan (who became Rector of West 
 Chelborough, Somerset), W. H. Thompson (who rose to 
 be Master of Trinity) ; Frank B. Edgeworth, brother of 
 ' the great Maria ' ; Charles Duller, who had been the 
 pupil of Carlyle, and was to obtain distinction in parlia- 
 ment ; Frederick Maurice ; Richard Trench ; FitzGerald's 
 fellow-Burians John M. Kemble and James Spedding ; 
 and Richard Monckton Milnes. Charles, Frederic, and 
 Alfred Tennyson were contemporaries at Cambridge, 
 but FitzGerald did not become acquainted with them till 
 after he had left Trinity. King Henry on the gateway, 
 the learned centuries and the shades of Bacon, Barrow, 
 Newton, and Dryden, whole platoons of men of genius, 
 cast interested eyes on the new undergraduate as he passes 
 among those grey walls and towers and admonish him 
 to high labours. At first FitzGerald is disposed to listen 
 to them, but gradually he becomes indolent and devotes 
 more attention to desultory reading, music, and painting 
 than to systematic study ; and when King Henry, the 
 learned centuries, Barrow and Bacon frown, he says in 
 extenuation of his conduct that the professors take no 
 personal interest in the students — their lectures are the 
 drone of a bagpipe, or the monotonous note of the storm- 
 cock, and so uninteresting. ' None indeed but dryheaded, 
 calculating, angular little gentlemen ' can take delight in 
 them.^ FitzGerald, indeed, made an indifferent machine. 
 He was not the sort of man to win honours at a university. 
 He studies the classics, not because they are to advance 
 him, but out of sheer love for them. Virgil is to him a 
 living man ; he gathers real crocuses with Sophocles at 
 Colonus. He has no intention, like so many others, of 
 
 ^ Tennyson.
 
 8o LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 flinging his books away after taking his degree ; but he 
 will read what interests him and that only, let Henry and 
 the centuries think what they like, and even if he should 
 never get his degree at all. 
 
 * The Union ' of FitzGerald's time met in a * low, ill- 
 ventilated, ill-lit, cavernous, tavernous gallery ' at the back 
 of the ' Red Lion Inn ' in Petty Cury, where, ' on stated 
 evenings, was much logic and other spiritual fencing 
 and ingenious collision.' Several distinguished them- 
 selves, but Spedding and one Sunderland, who treated 
 them to too much Tom Paine, were the acknowledged 
 luminaries. Here Thackeray * made a fool ' of himself, 
 'sputtering on the character of Napoleon.' FitzGerald, 
 however, was content to listen and criticise. The under- 
 graduates gathered in one another's rooms of evenings, 
 and smoked, chatted, and drank coffee. Allen, Spedding, 
 and Thackeray (FitzGerald's chief friends) often came to 
 Mrs. Perry's, and there was much wit, pointy talk, and 
 Baconian philosophy ; for Spedding, ' the pope among us 
 young men,'^ had already begun the censing of his idol. 
 Sometimes the meetings were in Allen's tower, where 
 Allen would sit, feet in fender, folio on knee, and hold 
 forth about Milton and Boswell's Johnson. Although to 
 the ordinary Cambridge studies FitzGerald applied him- 
 self only intermittently and languidly, he was framing 
 'many ambitious schemes,' his principal hope being to 
 dazzle the world with his literary productions. These 
 projects he was wont to discuss with Francis Duncan 
 in the course of their walks in the meadows around 
 Cambridge. 
 
 It would be unreasonable to suppose that he who lives 
 in the future can live in the present. Consequently it is 
 not surprising that FitzGerald did not know how many 
 
 ^ Tennyson.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 8i 
 
 holes were in his stockings, or how many buttons on his 
 coat, or whether he was suitably provided with boots. 
 When his mother called at Cambridge in that superb 
 yellow coach, with four black horses, and sent a man- 
 servant to Mrs. Perry's to bid her son come to her, he was 
 unable to comply, his only pair of boots being at the 
 cobbler's. Some of the university experiences of Fitz- 
 Gerald and Thackeray are recorded in Pendennis. For 
 Arthur Pendennis, Thackeray drew on himself and on 
 another, who shall presently be mentioned ; whilst in 
 Warrington there are reflections of FitzGerald. Knowing 
 FitzGerald's fondness for music, Thackeray presented him 
 with an idea for a new musical instrument, a sketch called 
 'the Hogmagundy,' which shows a number of pigs with 
 their tails hanging through the holes in the footboard of 
 a wooden bedstead, whilst a girl, with music-book to 
 guide her, is playing the instrument by pulling their 
 tails. ^ Thackeray and FitzGerald were fond of singing 
 together the ' rather free ' Cavalier song — 
 
 ' Troll, troll the merry brown bowl,' 
 
 and many years after, FitzGerald adapted Thackeray's 
 own song, ' Ho, pretty page,' to the same tune. Thanks 
 largely to the energy of his tutor, 'one Williams,' Fitz- 
 Gerald finally managed to obtain his degree (January 
 1830). If Bury had been delightful to him, very delightful 
 too, despite, perhaps by reason of, his indolence, were his 
 Cambridge days. He held with Roger Ascham, whose 
 words he quotes in a notebook : ' He that is able to 
 mayntain his lyfe in learning at Cambridge knoweth not 
 what a felycitie he hath,' and in Ascham's words too he 
 could say of his intimate friends there, ' I doe salute you 
 
 ^ See Biographical Edition of Thackeray's Works, ii. p. xxxi.
 
 82 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 all : I name none, because I would leave out none, and 
 because I love all.' ^ 
 
 Of the many excursions made by FitzGerald and his 
 friends while at Cambridge, we get hints and echoes in 
 
 ^, ,^, Euf)hranor. One of them indeed is minutely 
 
 17. The ' Three ^ "^ 
 
 Tuns'atChes- described: It is a bright day in May, and 
 terton. ^^^ author, whilst pretending to study, is dis- 
 
 turbed by Euphranor, who insists on a row on the river, 
 a walk, or a game at billiards at Chesterton, a neighbour- 
 ing village. The pair break in upon the studies of 
 Lexilogus, a thin, pale, spectacled creature, who would 
 rather have been left alone ; and presently all three run 
 down stairs, cross the Great Court, thread the Screens, 
 and pass through Neville's Court to the open green before 
 the Library. Taking a boat, they presently pass the 
 'closely packt barges at Magdalen,' and through the 
 locks, pull a few miles down the river, and then return to 
 the ferry, where they surrender their boat, and foot it over 
 the fields to Chesterton, and the 'Three Tuns Inn.'^ On 
 the bowling-green of this hostelry they find another 
 student, Lycion, ' rolling the bowls about lazily with his 
 foot.' There is much academic talk, chiefly upon educa- 
 tion and exercise, and ranging from Don Quixote to 
 Waller, and from Aristotle to Sir Thomas Browne, and 
 then a dinner in the little parlour ' very airy and pleasant, 
 with its windows opening on the bowling-green, the table 
 laid with a clean white cloth, and upon that a dish of 
 smoking beef-steak.' They return just in time to see a 
 boat-race. There are townsmen and gownsmen, ' with 
 the tasselled fellow-commoner sprinkled here and there,' 
 
 ^ Letter from Ascham to Mr. Raven. Copied by FitzGerald into his Museum 
 Book, 1883. 
 
 - The Ferry is the Horse Grind adjacent to Roebuck House ; the fields are 
 now built upon ; the Three Tuns is a private residence, ' Cambridge House,' 
 somewhat altered, but substantially the same.
 
 CAMBRIDGE HOUSE, CHESTERTON 
 
 FOK.MEUl.Y 'the THREE TUXS' IN'N 
 
 Frotn a photoi;raph hy IF. Tains, L amhridgt 
 
 * ■ " " ' mmil^ ;: 
 
 i.l'.l,l)K>l()NE HAI.I, 
 
 ri.ATIl XI.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 85 
 
 reading men and sporting men, masters of colleges, 
 ladies. 'They are off — they are coming! Bravo, St. 
 John's ! Go it, Trinity ! ' It is all over : the ensign of 
 Trinity drops, the eagle of St. John rises. Questions and 
 chatter, then a walk home ' across the meadow leading to 
 the town, whither the dusky troops of gownsmen, with 
 their confused voices, seemed, as it were, evaporating in 
 the twilight, while a nightingale began to be heard among 
 the flowering chestnuts of Jesus. '^ 
 
 Reference has several times been made to FitzGerald's 
 brother John. Admittedly they were not twins, but 
 Antipholus of Ephesus and Antipholus of 18. The Two 
 Syracuse were not more like each other in Antiphoiuses. 
 character and disposition, whilst their resemblance in 
 person struck even the most unobservant. The anecdotes 
 told of John resemble very closely those told of Edward, 
 and it may be boldly said that if Edward did anything, 
 John would have done pretty nearly the same thing in the 
 same circumstances. There is no need here, however, to 
 point out the resemblances between these ' two goodly 
 sons,' 
 
 'The one so like the other 
 As could not be distinguished but by names,' 
 
 for those will be made clear enough as the book proceeds. 
 While Edward was at Cambridge, John, whose passion 
 was the study of the Bible, of which he had a phenomenal 
 knowledge, was preparing sedulously for the church, ^ 
 which had always been his ambition ; but an attack of 
 brain fever, which affected his eyes, put an end to all his 
 hopes. By and by he married, and very happily, a 
 
 ' The work Euphranor is dealt with in Chapters vi. and ix. 
 - ' Uncle James took it into his head that one of his brother's family should be 
 a parson.' — Euphranor.
 
 86 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Miss Augusta Jane Lisle Phillips,^ a lady of most sweet 
 and beautiful character, to whom Edward pays several 
 tributes. John had already turned to authorship, but was 
 interested less in literature than in social and religious 
 questions, as may be seen from his tract, Plain Advice 
 on Drinking and Drunkenness^ 1828, the first of a long 
 series of books and pamphlets from his pen. He did not 
 so much read the Bible as live in it. It became part of 
 him. His duty, he conceived, was to write and preach 
 against what seemed to him the most lamentable vices of 
 the day — the slave-trade, drunkenness, and everything 
 tending to Romanism. Against these he warred all his 
 life and with all his might. 
 
 After leaving Cambridge, FitzGerald paid a visit to 
 his sister Eleanor (Mrs. Kerrich) at Geldestone Hall 
 19. Mrs. C Gelson '), two miles north-west of Beccles, 
 
 r^'^^r'^'PL ^^^ pleasant town on the Waveney, which 
 Bon Pasteur, has absolutely no fault except its name, 
 ornjos. FitzGerald said that it always put him in 
 
 mind of hooks and eyes. But he loved the quaint ir- 
 regularity of its streets, its bright river, and the grand old 
 church tower, standing a short distance from the church 
 itself, a circumstance referred to by the Caroline poet 
 Matthew Stevenson — 
 
 ' He does himself 'twixt this and t'other tide, 
 Like Beccles steeple from the church's side.' ^ 
 
 The top of the tower commands fine views of the sur- 
 rounding country. To the north-west Geldestone stands 
 out a conspicuous little white cube embosomed in foliage ; 
 on the south-west, one can descry some of the villages of 
 the country of The Nine Saints ; on the east stretches the 
 dim blue outline of Lowestoft ; on the north the wooded 
 
 ^ See Chapter v. "^ See Getitleman's Magazitte, 1835.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 87 
 
 country of Haddiscoe. To reach Geldestone Hall one 
 crosses the Waveney and proceeds by a raised path, 
 beautiful in summer-time with the rich purple of the 
 vetch, and passes through the village of Gillingham, with 
 its two churches, the Norman still used, the Perpendicular 
 (and far later church) in ruins. Geldestone Hall is a 
 substantial mansion, and its outward appearance has not 
 altered materially since the days when FitzGerald visited 
 it and walked backwards and forwards to Beccles. The 
 house contained a considerable collection of curiosities, 
 which Mr. Kerrich took great delight in showing and 
 explaining. Of Mrs. Kerrich, his best loved sister, Fitz- 
 Gerald has left, in an inedited manuscript,^ the following 
 portrait : — ' Mrs. Kerrich is a clever person, fond of 
 literary pursuits, absent, careless, fond of educating and 
 giving advice ; is a thinking, grave, and staid-minded 
 person, very unsophisticated in the ways of the world, not 
 easily pleased, expects much attention.' To this lovable 
 woman and her husband FitzGerald's letters contain 
 many references^ and he was much attached to their 
 children. At Beccles his chief friend was Dr. William 
 Edward Crowfoot,^ Mrs. Kerrich's medical adviser ; and 
 he was a frequent visitor both at Dr. Crowfoot's house on 
 the Market Place and at the Misses Crowfoot's house in 
 Blyburgate Street. Subsequently Beccles became still 
 further interesting to FitzGerald, as the birthplace and 
 home of Mr. W. Aldis Wright, who was one of the most 
 intimate friends of his latter days. 
 
 In 1830 FitzGerald was staying with his Aunt Purcell 
 in Paris. Thackeray was also in Paris, and of course 
 they forgathered. How they spent their time may be 
 gleaned from Thackeray's early Essays and Ballads. 
 
 ^ In the possession of the Rev. E. Kenworthy Browne. 
 2 He lived till I2th May 1887.
 
 88 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Their mornings were passed at the Louvre, where 
 Thackeray pleased himself with the idea that he was 
 studying art. FitzGerald, however, was attracted less by 
 the pictures than by the statuary. The friends liked to 
 visit the Louvre on a Sunday after church, to watch the 
 crowd of shopmen, soldiers, grisettes, and livery servants 
 enjoying the pictures. They lounged on the Boulevards 
 and in the Bois de Boulogne, and no doubt dined together 
 at Terre's on that rich savoury stew which Thackeray has 
 sung in ' The Ballad of Bouillabaisse.'^ This same year, 
 and at Paris too, Victor Hugo was writing his Notre 
 Dame, Balzac his Peau de Chagrin ; and Thackeray 
 refers to the Parisian litterateurs blustering about ' in 
 velvet and mustachios and gold chains.' George Sand, 
 who had not begun to write, was just then contemplating 
 the dismissal of her boorish husband. One fine evening 
 FitzGerald stopped on the Boulevards by the Madeleine 
 to listen to a street singer. Several passing ' blouses ' 
 had stopped also, not only to listen, but to join in the 
 songs, having bought little ' libretti ' of the words from 
 the musician. FitzGerald also bought one and assisted in 
 the song, ' which the man called out beforehand (as they 
 do hymns in church).'^ This song, ' Le Bon Pasteur,' 
 FitzGerald preserved, and copied into a commonplace 
 book which he called ' Half-Hours with the Worst 
 Authors.'^ It begins — 
 
 ' Bo7is habitants de ce village 
 Pretez Poreille un moment^ 
 
 and each stanza ends — 
 
 '£■/ le bo)i Dieii vous bhiira? 
 
 * Biographical Edition, xiii. p. 62. 
 ^ Letters to Fanny Ketnbte (Bentley), p. 31. 
 
 ^ Subsequently called ' Half-Hours with Obscure Authors.' Mr. Aldis 
 Wright showed me this at Cambridge.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 89 
 
 Balzac compared ' luxurious Paris ' that year to a sand- 
 pit — once in, escape was impossible. Soirees, breakfasts, 
 theatres — a perpetual whirl. FitzGerald and Thackeray, 
 however, managed to get away at the end of May. Fitz- 
 Gerald, full of Utopian ideas about Society, and resolved 
 to become 'a. great bear,' crossed to Southampton, whilst 
 Thackeray made for Germany. John Allen, who hap- 
 pened just then to be staying at Portsmouth, having 
 heard that ' the most dear FitzGerald ' was at South- 
 ampton, walked over with a friend to see him (loth August 
 1830). Arriving late, however, they found that Fitz- 
 Gerald had gone to bed. Says Allen of the next morning: 
 ' Got up and went to FitzGerald's room, who jumped up 
 and almost cried for joy to see me, dear affectionate 
 fellow ! After breakfast, though very stiff, walked with 
 him to Netley Abbey, and tried to make him steady in his 
 views on religion.'^ Thackeray wrote to FitzGerald from 
 Weimar, and sent a picture of himself in breeches and 
 cocked hat, as he had appeared before the Grand Duke,- 
 and was able to boast that he had been introduced to 
 Goethe. 
 
 These were the days of the Torrijos fiasco. A number 
 of needy Spanish political refugees in London, under the 
 leadership of the courtly and accomplished General 
 Torrijos, determined to make a descent on Spain with a 
 view to bringing about an insurrection and the establish- 
 ment of a constitutional government. FitzGerald's friend, 
 John Kemble, had seemed inclined to enter the church, 
 and Tennyson had addressed to him a fine sonnet, which 
 proved, however, to be only poetry and not prophecy. 
 Instead of becoming a 'later Luther' and a 'soldier 
 priest,' he caught the enthusiasm of Sterling and other 
 
 1 yoAn Allen, by R. M. Grier (Rivingtons), p. 33. 
 '^ There are reminiscences of this visit in Vanity Fair.
 
 90 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 hot-headed Cambridge democrats, and, embracmg a 
 quarrel not his own, followed Torrijos to Spain. These 
 youths, however, ' helped the cause,' not by fighting, but 
 by sight-seeing and drinking ale ; and Fanny Kemble 
 pictures her brother ' holding forth upon German meta- 
 physics,'^ which grow dense in proportion as the tobacco 
 fumes grow thick and his glass grows empty. Having 
 spent their money, they returned home, scathless, but full 
 of fervour.^ John Kemble, indeed, could talk of nothing 
 but Torrijos, and he sang in FitzGerald's room in 
 Russell Street the insurrectionary song, * Si un Elio ^ 
 conspiro allevo.' The end of poor Torrijos and his 
 forty-five fighters was a melancholy and inglorious one. 
 They were all captured near Malaga, and summarily 
 shot.^ Thackeray returned from Germany, and, very 
 thick with Kemble, was now perched on a stool in a 
 lawyer's office, from which giddy eminence he sent Fitz- 
 Gerald a picture of himself, stool, desk, and all. 
 
 About this time FitzGerald's father purchased, subject 
 to a life-interest in it of an aged lady, Madam Short, the 
 old manorial house, Boulge Hall, situated about a mile 
 from his former residence, Bredfield White House. Of 
 Madam Short, an imperious and tetchy old lady, many 
 odd tales are told, and one of them concerns us here. 
 She and her husband, Colonel Short, often fell out, and 
 at such times the Colonel would speak only to his dog, 
 she to her cat. After a particularly bitter quarrel, Mrs. 
 Short declared she would live with her husband no 
 longer. She therefore built herself, near the Hall gates, 
 a two-roomed thatched cottage, with apartments in the 
 
 ^ Records of a Girlhood, ii. p. 282. 
 - Kemble returned 21st May 1831. 
 3 Elio, a Spanish general, executed in 1822. 
 
 * November 1831. See Carlyle's Life of Sterling, and Fanny Kemble's 
 Records of Later Life, p. 133.
 
 WHERSTEAD LODGE 91 
 
 rear for servants ; and the rest of her life was spent there, 
 or at the Hall, according as she and her husband 
 happened or happened not to be on good terms. This 
 was the cottage which became for so many years the home 
 of Edward FitzGerald.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 
 NOVEMBER 183O — MAY 1834 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 1. The Meadows in Spring, .... Written 183 1 
 
 2. Will Thackeray, ,,1831 
 
 3. Canst thou, my Clora? ..... ,, 1832 
 
 4. On Anne Allen, ,, 1833 
 
 In November, FitzGerald is at Naseby ensconced in a 
 comfortable farmhouse. He looks round the old home, 
 20 At Naseby ' "^^^ Woollcys ' ; hobanobs with Watchams, 
 'The Meadows John Linnet (whose daughter Sarah is weak 
 pnng:, .^ ^^ head and ' can't abear Cromwell '), the 
 blacksmith, who is a great repertory of tradition respecting 
 the battle, and understands it as well as if he had trailed 
 a pike there, and the aged and venerable vicar, the Rev. 
 John Marshall. He dines also with Ringrose the 
 carpenter — Naseby is full of Ringroses ; hears Miss 
 Ringrose play the piano ; visits the battlefield for bones, 
 bullets, and fossils ; writes to John Allen, ' I am quite the 
 king here, I promise you ' ; and makes a sensation at 
 church with a magnificent blue surtout or frock-coat (he 
 loved splendid colours), which not only astonished Naseby 
 but afterwards proved the theme of infinite jest among 
 his friends. Most memorable event of all, however, he 
 composes that pleasant poem with the Elizabethan flavour 
 
 92
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 93 
 
 entitled 'The Meadows in Spring.' The poet begins with 
 references to the amenities of winter — 
 
 'When such a time cometh, 
 I do retire 
 Into an old room 
 Beside a bright fire.' 
 
 He then goes on to tell us how he reads, smokes, and 
 
 talks to a friend whilst nought passes between them ' save 
 
 a brown jug ' ; but when the clouds part and spring 
 
 comes — 
 
 ' I jump up like mad, 
 
 Break the old pipe in twain, 
 And away to the meadows, 
 The meadows again.' 
 
 These verses appeared in Hone's Year Book, 30th April 
 183 1, and a variant in the Athenceum on July 9th had the 
 honour of being praised by Charles Lamb, who said, ' 'Tis 
 a poem I envy — that and Montgomery's " Last Man " — I 
 envv the writers because I feel I could have done some- 
 thing like them/ How soon FitzGerald began to write 
 poetry we do not know, though he may be said to have 
 been cradled in it. A whole galaxy of poets and poetesses, 
 most of whom were his intimate acquaintances, sang the 
 vales, and pittering brooks, and broad estuaries, and 
 vanished cities of his native Suffolk. Indeed the south- 
 eastern portion of the county was a veritable Boeotia, with 
 the Deben and the Aide for its Hippocrene and Aganippe. 
 Of Crabbe, Barton, and Mitford we have already spoken ; 
 but there were others who, if less famous, were no less 
 familiar to FitzGerald. There was James Bird of Yoxford 
 (1788-1839), bookseller and giant, 'six feet his stature, 
 as an arrow straight,' whose themes were the Vale of 
 Slaughden ^ and Dunwich, which he credited with 
 
 ' Published in 1819. ' There winds a vale beside the rolling sea.' 
 VOL. I. D
 
 94 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Arthurian splendour ; and there was G. W. Fulcher, ' the 
 Crabbe of Sudbury,' who in touching verse proclaimed the 
 hardships of the deserving poor. Nor was the gentler 
 sex mute. Mrs. Biddell, Mrs. Fulcher, and Miss Charles- 
 worth (whose poems FitzGerald used to revise, and who 
 addressed verse to his sister Isabella) added to the 
 harmony. Mrs. Biddell's house at Playford was a Suffolk 
 literary salon where all the local wits and poets met to talk 
 about the Muses and say smart things over dinners that 
 lasted from three in the afternoon till nine in the evening. 
 An occasional guest at those gatherings was Robert 
 Southey, whose poem on a ' Holly Tree ' ^ at Playford 
 is among the best of his rhythmic productions. If it be 
 urged that Mrs. Biddell's poets are most of them forgotten, 
 it may be claimed for most that fame was not their 
 aspiration. Indeed they did all they could to avoid it, 
 coyly hiding their identities behind initials, asterisks, and 
 anons — quite content to see their effusions in print in 
 some 'Annual' or ' Pocket Book.' Silly (that is 'guileless') 
 Suffolk, dropping for the moment her ribboned crook, 
 was making her valleys tuneful with the oaten flute. All 
 the members of this coterie being FitzGerald's acquaint- 
 ances, and some his intimate friends, it is not surprising 
 that he too turned poet. But he did not adopt their 
 literary manners, did not even try to imitate his much- 
 admired Crabbe — harking back rather to the melodious 
 Elizabethans and the linked sweetnesses of the Caroline 
 
 ' This tree is still standing. The lower leaves, as the poem states, have 
 prickles, the higher leaves are smooth. One passes it going from Little Bealings 
 station to Playford by the footpath — 
 
 ' Below, a circling fence, its leaves are seen 
 
 Wrinkled and keen ; 
 No grazing cattle through their prickly round 
 
 Can reach to wound ; 
 But as they grow where nothing is to fear, 
 Smooth and unarmed the pointless leaves appear.'
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 95 
 
 lyrists. Now came more sketches from Thackeray, and 
 among them a portrait of FitzGerald in that wonderful 
 blue frock-coat or surtout which fluttered all hearts at 
 Naseby. Thackeray also represented his friend in a 
 Weimar court dress, and ' In after life.' In the latter 
 picture E. F. G. is made to assume John Bull proportions 
 and is surrounded by a demonstrative family.^ 
 
 In May 183 1 Thackeray suggested that he and Fitz- 
 Gerald should go to Spain or Germany together, and 
 sent some sketches representing the pair ^^ ^mes 
 combating brigands. One of the sketches o" wui 
 
 I'li^clccrs.Vt 
 
 shows ' Captain FitzGerald ' in the act of 
 running a terrific Spaniard through the body, whilst 
 Thackeray is slashing at two others. In October Fitz- 
 Gerald sends his friend the spirited lines called ' Will 
 Thackeray.'- They commence with the declaration, 
 written at a moment when his heart was warm with a 
 glass of port, that till he and Willy met, life was not life at 
 all. The thought of Willy gives the wine new flavour, 
 makes the fire burn clearer — 
 
 ' The chair that Will sat in I sit in the best, 
 The tobacco is sweetest which Willy hath blest.' 
 
 Though the wind blows cold, he can laugh at the storm 
 and think of his Willy. Even old age will make no 
 difference to their friendship — 
 
 ' Let him make me grey, gouty, blind, toothless, or silly, 
 Still old Ned shall be Ned, and old Willy be Willy.' 
 
 But while thus exercising his poetical gifts, FitzGerald 
 continued to delight himself also with painting and music. 
 He makes friends with Perry Nursey of Little Bealings, 
 who, with his son Claude Lorraine and his daughter 
 
 1 See Biographical Edition of Thackeray, vol. ix., 'Christmas Books,' p. xxiii. 
 
 2 Hid. p. XX.
 
 96 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Marietta, lived in the house which is now (1902) the 
 residence of Archdeacon Lawrence. Perry Nursey is 
 
 remembered on three accounts — as an artist, 
 Nursey and ^^ an accompHshed violinist, and as having 
 Newton introduced into Suffolk that glorious tree, 
 
 the black Italian poplar, or as Woodbridge 
 folk affectionately style it, the Nursey poplar. He made 
 for FitzGerald among other things, ' a very pretty oil 
 sketch ' of Bredfield House, and ' a small picture of a 
 breaking wave.'^ Another friend was Robert Newton 
 Shawe of Kesgrave Hall, a military man, and chairman 
 of the bench of magistrates at Woodbridge. 
 
 FitzGerald's brother John, who now leaned towards 
 Nonconformity, and occupied himself much in evangel- 
 Matthews ^^^^^ work, preaching in schoolrooms and 
 and his chapels, was often at Naseby — generally at 
 
 ^^ ■ Naseby Woolleys — and with him frequently 
 
 was the Rev. Timothy Richard Matthews, of whom 
 Edward speaks so much. Matthews was born at Long 
 Sutton, Isle of Ely, in 1795, and entered at Sidney 
 Sussex College, Cambridge, in 1815. After taking his 
 degree he was appointed to the curacies of Colmworth 
 and Bolnhurst, in Bedfordshire, where his earnestness 
 as a preacher caused a furore and drew immense congre- 
 gations, gathered from all the surrounding country. He 
 was a man of splendid physique, and the possessor of a 
 stentorian voice. In 1830 he was appointed chaplain to 
 the House of Industry at Bedford, and here again — out- 
 siders being permitted to attend — he attracted crow^ds. 
 The chapel connected with the House of Industry was 
 subsequently closed, but Matthews' congregation, un- 
 
 ^ The Nurseys, and among them 'Claude Lorraine,' Perry's son, lie in Little 
 Bealings churchyard, which is about three miles from Woodbridge. Miss 
 Marietta Nursey died in 1891, being then in her ninety-first year.
 
 RKV. T. R. MATTHKWS OF BEDFORD 
 
 ■ Ft IZCKKAI.U'S I'KKACHKK' (boKN 1 795. DIED 1845) 
 
 PLATE Xn.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY gg 
 
 willing to lose their pastor, made strenuous exertions, 
 and, 'sowing- carnal things to reap divine,' erected for 
 him, rn less than six months, a spacious chapel in the 
 Bromham Road, with rooms underneath for a residence, 
 two of the round-headed windows of which can be seen 
 in our illustration. In this underworld Matthews and his 
 family lived, and in the chapel he henceforth officiated, 
 using, with trifling alteration, the service of the Church 
 of England. He was occasionally assisted by John Fitz- 
 Gerald. In the week Matthews preached in his black 
 gown and bands in the open places of Bedford or else- 
 where, first blowing a trumpet to attract hearers. He 
 visited at different times many towns and a vast number 
 of villages in the Midlands. To the zealous companies 
 he had gathered together it was his custom to write 
 pastoral letters, which were read aloud by one of their 
 members, and some of these letters have been preserved. 
 In a large town he usually hired the town hall, and 
 preached to immense congregations. Opposition he had, 
 as do all men who are in earnest. 'The quality,' whose 
 polite ears objected to such words as 'judgment and hell,' 
 ' except when quoting Milton ' — a society phrase snapped 
 up by FitzGerald — would have none of him ; rubicund 
 farmers, who could see no harm in a ' merry mill ' ; fox- 
 hunting clergymen, and even Charles Dickens, with his 
 'Sunday under Three Heads'^ (1836), all had their 
 hostile say, and employed against him their various arts. 
 His manner was most impressive. To use the words of 
 Edward FitzGerald, who became acquainted with him a 
 little later : ' He believed in Christ, and had no mis- 
 givings whatever.' Matthews, as we have pointed out, 
 often visited John FitzGerald at Naseby Woolleys, and, 
 
 ' A considerable porlion of this diatribe was, I believe, directed specially 
 against Matthews.
 
 lOO LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 arrayed in black gowns, both of them preached in the 
 space between Naseby churchyard and the FitzGerald 
 Arms. Lest in his earnestness he should forget himself 
 and preach too long — a frequent failing — Matthews would 
 say to Mr. FitzGerald before commencing, ' My friend, 
 when I've preached long enough, kindly pull my gown.' 
 These sermons, especially one about 'Three Sticks,' are 
 still spoken of with enthusiasm by old folks in the village. 
 After sermon the preachers would mingle with the people, 
 and say, first to one and then to another, some word 
 of injunction or encouragement. To John Linnet the 
 valiant, for example, Matthews once observed, 'John, be 
 sure you are in the first resurrection.' On cottage tables 
 at Naseby you may still see religious books with John 
 FitzGerald's handwriting in them — generally ' A token 
 of Christian friendship to [So-and-so] from J. F. G.,' with 
 the date 1832 or 1833. A little to the west of Naseby is 
 a huge reservoir, the property of the Grand Union Canal 
 Company, and Matthews and John FitzGerald often held 
 baptism services there, sometimes immersing eight or 
 nine persons in one day. 
 
 In FitzGerald's family there was little change ; his father 
 was as enthusiastic as ever in the hunting-field, and Mrs. 
 24 T b nd FitzGerald still retained her passion for the 
 the Aliens, theatre. We hear of her exciting both ad- 
 miration and envy in London drawing-rooms 
 with her 'green velvet gown trimmed with sables.' This 
 was the period of the beginning of railways, and presently 
 Edward FitzGerald had his first train ride. * So you 've 
 seen the railway,' writes Fanny Kemble to a friend in 
 1831 ; 'I'm so glad you have seen that magnificent 
 invention.' Edward FitzGerald spent three weeks of 
 October and November 1831 in town with Thackeray, and 
 later visited the west country in order to see Salisbury
 
 ^ 
 
 THE TRUMPET BLOW N KV THE REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 
 
 ' Fitzgerald's tkeacher' 
 
 now preserved in a chapel at ravknsden, near bedkoro 
 
 PLATH XIII.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 103 
 
 Cathedral and Bemerton, George Herbert's village. In 
 the spring of 1832 John Allen, who had just lost his 
 father/ left Cambridge, and FitzGerald and others pre- 
 sented him with an armchair ; and in the summer and 
 autumn of that year we find FitzGerald visiting Tenby, 
 where Mrs. Allen resided, and making journeys with Allen 
 to Freestone Hall,^ near the village of Milton. Free- 
 stone Hall was the residence of Mr. James Allen (a cousin 
 of John Allen). This family consisted of a son, Thomas,^ 
 and three daughters, Fanny, ^ Anne, and Mary. The 
 FitzGeralds and the two Allen families were most inti- 
 mate, and Edward's sister Andalusia became engaged to 
 John Allen's brother, Bird. From Tenby to Milton is 
 about six miles, and FitzGerald afterwards remembered 
 every inch of the road — the water-mill, the picturesque 
 tower of Gumfreston church. Ivy Tower, the main road 
 to Narberth, and Carew Mountain, Carew Castle,^ and 
 Freestone Hall at the end. He carried away mental 
 pictures of pretty ' sweet-throated ' Anne Allen, twenty- 
 three years of age, with china rose complexion and lilac 
 gown, who gathered flowers from the garden and made 
 nosegays for every one, placing ' the fairest at her father's 
 side,' and went about the house singing ; as well as of 
 Mary*" (who became the wife of John Allen's brother 
 
 ^ Rev. David Bird Allen, buried at Burton in Rhos, 1831. Mrs. Allen died 
 ten years later. 
 
 ^ One and three-quarter miles from Carew Church. A great part of Free- 
 stone Hall has since been demolished, and the remaining portion has been 
 converted into a farmhouse by its owner — the Hon. Robert Cranmer Trollope. 
 
 ^ To Mrs. Thomas Allen, who is still living, I am indebted for most of this 
 information. 
 
 ■* She became the wife of the Rev. William Allen, Rector of Bosheston, 
 Pembroke. 
 
 * There is no village of Carew. The village is called Milton, half a mile or 
 more to the west of Carew church. The few cottages on the north side of 
 Carew churchyard are called Cheriton, probably a corruption of Churchtciwn. 
 
 « She lived till 1884.
 
 104 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Charles), poring over some wholesome book, an old 
 turnip of a watch in front of her, in the tree-surrounded 
 and sombre schoolroom at the west of the house. Other 
 places that he visited were Penally, distant a mile and a 
 half, with its watch-tower and its cave, declared to be 
 that of Cymbeline, and the romantic cliffs and caverns of 
 Bosheston. Allen and he often sauntered together on 
 the sands, among the ruins of the castle, and on St. 
 Katherine's rock. Their talk was of Shakespeare, Milton, 
 George Herbert, the Greek poets, and religion, for Fitz- 
 Gerald still leaned to Agnosticism, and his views dis- 
 quieted Allen, who in his gentle way endeavoured to 
 change them. FitzGerald, though unconvinced, loved 
 him the more for his pains, and often in outbursts of 
 affection called him * best of friends,' 'dear fellow,' 'my 
 Johnny,' 'dear good Allen.' To Tenby Thackeray sent 
 more letters for his 'dear Teddekin,' 'dear old Teddibus.' 
 In one of them he refers to a clergyman who objected to 
 pictures in churches. 'These fellows in the shovel hats,' 
 he says, ' are greater bigots than the Catholics. When 
 you turn parson, dear Teddibus, you won't refuse to see 
 merit even in a Presbyterian.' 
 
 Staying in the same boarding-house as FitzGerald was 
 a handsome, merry-eyed, wildish lad of sixteen, William 
 25. William Kenworthy Browne, who is pictured with 
 Kenworthy longish auburn hair, a pink complexion set 
 off with a touch or two of white, the result of 
 contact with the billiard-table cue, a fawn-coloured waist- 
 coat, a bright blue tie, and a dark coat ; son of Mr. Joseph 
 Browne of Cauldwell House,^ an alderman, and one year 
 Mayor of Bedford. Between, this youth and FitzGerald 
 commenced a friendship which was severed only by 
 death. The Tenby visit brightened many an after hour 
 
 ^ In Cauldwell Street, Bedford.
 
 w . KKWVOKim i;ro\v\k 
 
 I'l.ATK XIV.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 107 
 
 by its delightful memory. Browne, John Allen, Anne, 
 Mary, and Fanny — youth, beauty, and good-humour — 
 the scent of the October leaves, and the distant sound 
 of the band on the pleasure-vessels making for Bristol, 
 were all recollections which abided with him. 
 
 About this time FitzGerald and Allen started a series of 
 commonplace books, to which they gave the name of 
 * Paradise,' a place in which to insert choicest 26. 'Paradise- 
 extracts. Nothing mean was to sully these making.' 
 pages. FitzGerald puts into his Carew's lines, ' Ask me 
 no more where June bestows,' and many of Shakespeare's 
 sonnets, 'giving each a fair white sheet' to itself. One 
 of these 'Paradises' has been described by Miss Batch 
 in The Bookman : ^ 'It is a long, thin book with a 
 marbled cover, worn leather back, and time-stained pages.' 
 The watermark in the paper is 1 83 1 , the last entry bears date 
 26th April 1840. FitzGerald evidently carried it about with 
 him, for entries were made in different places — London, 
 Boulge, Geldestone, and Halverstown (Ireland). It con- 
 tains, among other matter, cuUings from Crabbe's Life of 
 the Rev. George Crabbe, Lockhart's Scott, Bryant's Mytho- 
 logy, and Wilkinson's Egyptians, character sketches of 
 Wolsey and others, and Hayward's translation of Mar- 
 garet's song in Faust ; while there is a long catalogue of 
 collections of poetry, showing his predilection for antique 
 authors, with examples from England's Helicon, Qhnrch- 
 ysivd's Jane Shore, which is pronounced 'very fine,' and 
 Michael Drayton's friend William Browne. Fiction is 
 represented by two passages only, one from Joseph 
 Andrews, where Adams 'strongly asserted that there was 
 no such thing as pleasure in the world, at which Pamela 
 and her husband smiled on one another' ; and one from 
 
 ' The book was given to Miss Batch by Mr. John Loder, booksellerj of 
 Woodbridge.
 
 io8 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Plumer Ward's Tremaine (1825). As his Letters and the 
 Omar reveal, FitzGerald had a ' haunting sense of Time's 
 continual speed, of the slipping from our grasp of day 
 after day, of the shortness and insecurity of life ' ; and in 
 the ' Paradise ' there are several pages of this tincture 
 gleaned chiefly from his favourite Owen Feltham,^ who 
 had the additional virtue of being a Suffolk man. 
 Feltham's essay on Poverty is called 'very fine,' and the 
 remark, ' He is twice an asse that is a riming one,' 'very 
 acute.' Several passages deal with religion, and one by 
 Rowland Hill on Prayer is held to breathe 'a spirit of 
 sweet and childlike trust in a Heavenly Father.' 
 
 In 1831 FitzGerald visited Lowestoft — the town of 
 herrings and saffron-buns — which, to use the words of an 
 27. At Lowe- old chronicler, ' hangs, as it were, over the 
 stoft, 1831. ggg^ ' — ^ town with which he was destined to 
 become closely connected. Lowestoft boasts association 
 with two other distinguished writers, the Elizabethan 
 poet and satirist ' sweet Tom Nash ' and George Borrow. 
 Nash, who, among other things, sang the good red her- 
 ring, wrote a spirited tale. The Unfortunate Traveller, and 
 two breezy plays, not to mention a host of miscellaneous 
 works. George Borrow, the third of Lowestoft's dii 
 majores, did not settle in the neighbourhood until several 
 years after FitzGerald's first visit ; but he had already 
 gone through his experiences with his Brynhildic queen, 
 the gigantic Isopel Berners, as related in Lavengro, and 
 was now a bookseller's hack in London. 
 
 FitzGerald loved to stroll among the marrams or coarse 
 sea grasses of the Denes or on the North Beach, with the 
 red-roofed, picturesque old town, pierced with narrow 
 'scores' or lanes, rising high behind, and the glorious 
 
 ^ Author of Resolves: Divine, Moral, and Political. 2nd ed. 162S ; 12th ed. 
 1709. Reprinted in 1806 by James Gumming.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 109 
 
 sea in front. To him the sea was always glorious, 
 whether by day, when he could watch the stately parting 
 fishing-boats with their red or bistre sails ; or by night, 
 beautiful with the silveriness of the ' moonway ' ; and he 
 liked to think of the old sea-fights, when the cannon of 
 Opdam, De Ruyter, and York boomed in Sole Bay,^ and 
 Dorset wrote his dainty song, 'To all you Ladies.' He 
 noticed that very many of the herring luggers which then 
 lay on the beach bore testimony to the influence on the 
 place of John Wesley, who had last visited Lowestoft in 
 1790 — the occasion probably when Crabbe, the poet, 
 heard him apply to himself the lines from Anacreon — 
 
 ' Oft by the women I am told, 
 Poor Anacreon, thou grow'st old.' 
 
 In 1 83 1 Lowestoft had just begun to obtain a reputation 
 as a seaside resort. The daffodil and the violet grew wild 
 in the wooded pleasaunce in front of the old Suffolk Inn. 
 There was not a single house between the bridge and 
 Kirkley, and, to reach the latter, one had to pass over 
 ditches from which, at low water, shrimps used to be 
 taken. A ' Blue Coach ' — for as yet there was no rail — 
 plied between the town and London. ^ 
 
 The herring's for which the town was famous were 
 landed on the North Beach (the harbour was not opened 
 till about 1840) ; the luggers, which stood off at about a 
 hundred yards, being relieved by boats. Mackerel was 
 sold by auction on the spot, and the herrings^ were carried 
 in wagons to the fish-houses on the Waplough Road to 
 
 ' 1665. Battle between Opdam and Duke of York. 
 1772. Battle in Sole Bay (Southwold Bay) between De Ruyter and Duke 
 of York. 
 
 2 I am not sure, but I think the railway to Norwich was opened about 1845, 
 that to Woodbridge about 1S65. 
 
 •^ Mackerel season began 13th May, and lasted ten weeks. The herring 
 season occupies the months of October and November.
 
 no LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 be cured. When the season was over the luggers were 
 hauled on to the beach by horses, and shored up. In all 
 the life of the beach and the fishery FitzGerald took a 
 continual interest. 
 
 He was fond of walking to Kirkley, with its ruined 
 church,^ and so on by the cliff — since so ruthlessly 
 damaged by the sea — to Pakefield. He fraternised much 
 with the sailors, and particularly with a Pakefield man, 
 'Lew' Colby, and his son William, 'Dickymilk,' who 
 was to become owner of the Au Revoir, called by the 
 beachmen 'Horrywaur,' and to finish life on 'stilts.'^ 
 With ' Dickymilk,' whom he calls in his Sea Words and 
 Phrases ' a good fellow,' FitzGerald sometimes walked on 
 a Sunday to Pakefield church, an edifice that pleased him 
 because of its ' delightful mouse-coloured thatch ' roof. 
 Colby would go in, and FitzGerald would remain outside 
 in the porch — his attitude towards professed religion 
 during almost the whole of his life. The preacher at 
 Pakefield was the Rev. John Rumph, who, we are told, 
 was accustomed, when the lifeboat was wanted, to close 
 his book immediately, and go off with his flock to render 
 help. Another of FitzGerald's beach acquaintances was 
 one Harry Norman, * Old Brawtoe,' who got his living 
 and his nickname by picking up and selling odds and 
 ends of rope. FitzGerald explored all the neighbouring 
 villages — Hopton, with its laig or chasm in the cliff; 
 Corton, dear to sailors homeward bound for Lowes- 
 toft ; and Covehithe with 'The Blue Anchor,' known to 
 
 ' Now restored. 
 
 - The passage in Sea Words and Phrases refers to events that occurred, not in 
 1 83 1, but between 1831 and 1840. ' Dickymilk ' was only fifteen in 1S31, and did 
 not become owner of the Au Revoir uWahoVii 1840. FitzGerald is only speaking 
 approximately. When I met ' Dickymilk ' in the spring and autumn of 1902 he 
 was eighty-six years of age, lived in Surrey Street, and went about on crutches, 
 which, Suffolk fashion, he called ' stilts.'
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY iii 
 
 amphibians, no doubt after some old sign, as 'The Naked 
 ManofCothy.' 
 
 The year 183 1 saw the country agitated over the much- 
 debated question of Parliamentary Reform. George 
 
 Crabbe, the poet — FitzGerald's ' great gun ' — _ 
 
 ' ^ ^ ^ 28. Death of 
 
 waiting for death, was not at all sure that the the poet 
 proposed change would be advantageous, ^^^^jg^l^^ 
 He felt the degradation when he saw at Trow- 
 bridge Fair ' four hundred and eighty-five human beings ' 
 (Cuyp-like exactness in letter as well as in poem) 'with 
 painted faces and crazy dresses and gestures, trying to 
 engage and entice the idle spectators to enter their poor 
 show-houses.' Crabbe died 3rd February of the next 
 year, 1832, when FitzGerald was just twenty-three. The 
 Reform Bill became law in the following June. 
 
 The poem, 'To a Lady Singing,' was written, ap- 
 parently, after FitzGerald's return from Tenby. One 
 feels that Clora was Anne Allen. If so, the 29. Canst thou, 
 prophecy had the sad misfortune to be fulfilled ^^ ^'°''^' 
 all too speedily — too soon she followed her sweet song. 
 The poet asks — 
 
 ' Canst thou, my Clora, declare 
 After thy sweet song dieth 
 Into the wild summer air, 
 Whither it falleth or flieth ? ' 
 
 and answers his own question — 
 
 ' Melody, dying away 
 
 Into the dark sky closes, 
 Like the good soul from her clay, 
 
 Like the fair odour of roses. 
 Therefore thou now art behind it, 
 But thou shalt follow and find it.' 
 
 Subsequently (December 1832) FitzGerald added two 
 more stanzas which, however, are less beautiful. In this
 
 112 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 poem, like 'The Meadows in Spring,' can be discerned 
 the influence of the old lyrists Carew and Vaughan ; but 
 not only did these poets and the earlier and equally 
 sweet Elizabethans influence his verse, they coloured his 
 whole existence. Indeed, Sir Henry Wotton's poem, 
 ' The Character of a Happy Life,' which was one of Fitz- 
 Gerald's great favourites, reads so like FitzGerald's own 
 life that one is tempted to assume, though there is 
 certainly the trifling difficulty of dates, that Wotton had 
 FitzGerald in mind — 
 
 ' How happy is he born and taught 
 That serveth not another's will ; 
 Whose armour is his honest thought, 
 And simple truth his utmost skill.' 
 
 ' It is very beautiful,' comments FitzGerald, 'and fit for a 
 Paradise of any kind.' 
 
 While on a visit to Cambridge this year, FitzGerald 
 met his friend J. M. Kemble, who had commenced in 
 earnest the Anglo-Saxon studies which were to make him 
 famous ; and perpetrated ' a wretched sketch of Kemble 
 reading something, with a glass of ale on the table.' 
 
 The year 1832 saw the publication of Tennyson's 
 second volume of poems. Says FitzGerald of The Lady 
 of Shalott : — ' Well I remember this poem read to me 
 before I knew the author at Cambridge one night in 1832 
 or '33, and its images passing across my mind, as across 
 the magic mirror, while half asleep in the mail-coach to 
 London in the creeping dawn that followed.'^ 
 
 In November we find him in London frequenting book- 
 shops, and buying Bacon's Essays, Evelyn's Sylva, and 
 Browne's Religio. He had plenty of time at his disposal, 
 always wrote more letters than he received, and confessed 
 
 ' Quoted in the Life of Lord Tennyson.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 113 
 
 to a ' very young lady-like partiality ' for writing to those 
 he loved. In the letters of this period he tells of his books 
 and his thoughts, and returns again and again to the 
 subject of Shakespeare's Sonnets. ' I had,' says he, 
 'but half an idea of him, demi-god as he seemed before, 
 till I read them carefully.'^ We gather, too, that he 
 applied himself to Wordsworth, though without enthu- 
 siasm, but heartily admired Bacon's Essay on Friendship. 
 
 With his old schoolfellow, W. B. Donne, who lived at 
 Mattishall, in Norfolk, FitzGerald often corresponded. 
 It is 'Our Donne,' 'My Dear Donne, who ^ g 
 shares with Spedding my oldest and deepest Donne. Castle 
 love.' In later years. Dr. Thompson, Master 
 of Trinity, said of Donne : ' He is one of the finest gentle- 
 men I know, and no ordinary scholar — remarkable also 
 for his fidelity to his friends.' Cheerfulness and meek- 
 ness were his salient characteristics, and of the former he 
 had much need, for the world often treated him with more 
 than customary harshness, though he never complained. 
 ' When,' asks FitzGerald, 'does he complain?' 
 
 In February 1833 FitzGerald went to stay at Castle 
 Irwell, his father's Manchester seat — an old-fashioned, but 
 not ancient, house, built on a natural mound of red 
 sandstone, w^hich crops out of the flat land of the Irwell 
 valley, just opposite the cliff at Higher Broughton on 
 the east side of the Irwell. The rooms were small ; there 
 was a private chapel in the house, and tradition spoke of 
 a secret passage leading under the river to Broughton. 
 In the meadows to the north of the house races were held, 
 the nearest way to the course being over a private suspen- 
 sion-bridge of the FitzGeralds, which w^as open to 
 passengers on payment of a halfpenny. Westward lay 
 the fatal colliery ground of Pendleton. At Castle Irwell 
 
 ^ Letiersy vol. i. p. 14 (Macmillan).
 
 114 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 FitzGerald chiefly spent his time in a re-reading of 
 Bacon's Essays. 
 
 In September he is in lodgings in London — 17 South- 
 ampton Row — so as to be near the British Museum ; 
 sees Spedding, Thackeray — who used to come singing into 
 his rooms — Pierce Morton, an Irish gentleman of estate 
 and fortune, which, of course, went the Irish way; and 
 Tennyson. These were ' our younger London days,' 
 in which — long after, addressing FitzGerald — Tennyson 
 
 says — 
 
 'You found some merit in my rhymes, 
 And I more pleasure in your praise.' 
 
 The meetings of these friends — and Browne often joined 
 them — were usually at ' The Cock' in Fleet Street, that 
 31. Word famous hostelry whose ' plump head-waiter ' 
 
 Portraits. has been so often talked about ; but apparently 
 
 nothing of the conversation has been preserved except a 
 few feeble witticisms. A friend of FitzGerald's tells me 
 that on one occasion upon leaving ' The Cock,' a little 
 merry after the chop for which that house was celebrated, 
 they all squeezed into an omnibus. Another passenger 
 having come up, the conductor put in his head and 
 asked, 'Are you full inside?' 'Yes,' cried Tennyson, 
 'the last glass did for me.' On another occasion 
 FitzGerald referred to the fact of his sister Jane having 
 married 'a Mr. Wilkinson, a clergyman.'^ 'Why,' said 
 Tennyson, 'that's verse,' and then they contended 
 humorously for the authorship ' of the worst line in the 
 English language.' 
 
 It was about this time that FitzGerald wrote a number 
 of word pictures of his friends. In the course of my 
 researches among the papers to which I was given access 
 by the Rev. E. Kenworthy Browne, I had the good 
 
 1 An elderly man. She made him ' very evangelical — and tiresome — and so 
 they fed their flock ' at Holbrook, near Ipswich.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 115 
 
 fortune to come across a manuscript containing a number 
 of these sketches, and I here reproduce two of the most 
 important, namely those on Tennyson and Thackeray. 
 
 Of Thackeray FitzGerald says : * A great deal of talent, 
 but no perseverance or steadiness of purpose ; very in- 
 different, almost cold in his feelings ; a very despairing 
 mind ; quick in most things ; impatient ; exclusive in his 
 attachments ; very unaffected, and has great want of 
 confidence in his own powers.' 
 
 Of Tennyson we get the following : ' Very w^ell in- 
 formed ; just and upright ; a rectifier or setter to rights of 
 people ; diligent, constant, sincere ; has great discern- 
 ment ; industrious, decided, and possesses great strength 
 of mind ; a very valuable friend ; generous, but not 
 extravagant ; punctual ; cool and clear in judgment.' 
 
 It was in London that FitzGerald read that puzzling 
 but original genius William Blake, and several of the 
 letters contain references to him. He expresses himself 
 gratified, too, on hearing fresh tidings of the discoveries 
 in Anglo-Saxon MSS. at Cambridge made by Kemble, 
 who was indeed madly devoted to ' his Mistress Learn- 
 ing.' ' I wish,' sighed Charles Kemble (his father), * John 
 had taken up something more lucrative.' His sister 
 Fanny too was troubled. ' Poor John ' indeed had a 
 fatality for following unremunerative courses. First 
 Torrijos, and now this Anglo-Saxon enthusiasm ! Yet 
 he was the one man in England with a head for the work, 
 which, besides, really wanted doing. 
 
 FitzGerald now begins to interest himself in vege- 
 tarianism. He reads every available book on the sub- 
 ject, especially Cheyne^ on Health and Long 32. Vegetarian- 
 Life, and Cheyne's essay on Regimen, with '^'°' °*^*' ^^^^' 
 extracts from which he crowds his notebooks and letters ; 
 
 * George Cheyne {1670- 1742), Essay on Health and Long Life, 1724. 
 VOL. I. E
 
 ii6 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 he inquires about 'Dr. Lambe's book,'^ goes to hear a 
 lecture on the subject, and can talk of nothing else. He 
 would himself live on ' seeds, bread, milk, mealy roots 
 and fruit,' being persuaded that such a course leads 
 to health and longevity. He makes lists of persons who 
 have attained to great age, — St. Jerome to 109 ; Simeon 
 Stylites 109 ; and other Eastern Christians who are re- 
 puted to have eaten only ' twelve ounces in the twenty- 
 four hours, with water for drink.' Then he tabulates 
 abstemious moderns, — ' One Lawrence, who lived to 140 
 by extreme temperance ' ; Thomas Jenkins to 169, and 
 Old Parr to 152. Though Cheyne, who had been 'fat, 
 lethargic, and listless,' restored himself to health and 
 comfort, and reduced the diameter of his waistcoat by 
 a vegetable diet, which he consequently recommends, 
 he would nevertheless allow animal food to certain persons 
 on alternate days. In short, he contradicts himself — here 
 advocating a vegetable diet, there an animal. FitzGerald, 
 who exposes Cheyne's inconsistencies, is resolved to give 
 vegetarianism 'a year's trial.' How long he persevered 
 is not stated, but for many weeks h^ ate meat only once 
 at a party where he 'did not like to be singled out.' 
 Life through, though never a strict vegetarian, his diet 
 was mainly bread and fruit. 
 
 During 1833 he spent much time whetting his wits 
 
 33 The ^^ ^^^ British Museum, and copying extracts 
 
 Museum Book, that pleased him into a little manuscript book 
 
 bound in maroon-coloured leather.^ On the 
 
 first page are the words ' E. FitzGerald, October 15, 
 
 ^ * The Return to Nature, or a Defence of the Vegetable Regimen ' appeared in 
 The PamphleUer, No. 38. It was dedicated to Dr. W. Lambe, not written by him. 
 
 ^ This commonplace book was presented by FitzGerald to W. Kenworthy 
 Browne, and it is now in the possession of his son, the Rev. E. Kenworthy 
 Browne. Previous writers on FitzGerald do not appear to have been aware 
 of its existence, and its contents are now for the first time made public. They 
 throw most valuable light on the trend of FitzGerald's mind at this period.
 
 NASEBY AND TENBY 117 
 
 1833. Museum Book, 1833,' and a pen and ink sketch 
 of a flask, with * SACK, 1661,' written across it, and a 
 wine-glass with the foot left in pencil. The extracts 
 show FitzGerald's insatiable appetite for old English 
 writers. There are passages from Roger Ascham, Blunt 
 Master Constable, and Sir R. Carey. Richard Corbet's 
 ' Farewell to the Fairies ' is given in full, and there is a 
 paragraph from Ellis's account of the execution of Mary- 
 Queen of Scots, in which it is said that ' her lippes stirred 
 up and down a quarter of an hour after her head was cut 
 off.' Here is a quaint song, there a snatch of a ballad. 
 One page is filled with Michael Drayton's address ' To 
 his friend William Browne,'^ and we may be sure that 
 in copying it FitzGerald was thinking of his William 
 Browne. The 'Museum Book' also contains a number 
 of carefully executed illustrations (a few in colours) copied 
 apparently from some old illustrated manuscript — car- 
 dinals, soldiers, ladies, and other figures in crimson and 
 gold, blue and silver, with the laced ruffs, ornamental top 
 boots, and purple gowns incident to the sixteenth and 
 seventeenth centuries — all very pretty and very dainty. 
 
 In November 1830 came sad news from Freestone Hall. 
 Anne Allen was dead. Alas, what a stroke was there ! 
 She had passed away at the early age of ^4. Death of 
 twenty-five. Her broken - hearted parents ^^°^ Alien. 
 buried her in Carew churchyard, where may still be seen 
 a stone to her memory with the inscription — 
 
 Anne Allen, 
 
 Daughter of James and Mary Allen. 
 Born January 12, 1808. 
 Died November 4, 1833.^ 
 
 ^ Poet, 1590-1645. Wrote Britannia's Pastorals, Shepherd's Pipe, etc. 
 
 2 Her father, who died in 1855, and her mother, who died in 1856, are buried 
 in the same grave, and the dates of their births and deaths are inscribed on the 
 memorial stone. The family graves are on the east side of the churchyard.
 
 ii8 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Edward FitzGerald deeply mourned her loss, and pre- 
 sently we find him writing that touching and lovely little 
 poem which takes its title from her name — 
 
 ' The wind blew keenly from the western sea 
 And drove the dead leaves slanting from the tree — 
 
 Vanity of vanities, the Preacher saith — 
 Heaping them up before her father's door, 
 When I saw her whom I shall see no more — 
 
 We cannot bribe thee, Death. 
 
 Idly they gaze upon her empty place, 
 Her kiss hath faded from her father's face : 
 She is with thee, O Death.' ^ 
 
 So touching are the lines, that one cannot help wonder- 
 ing whether FitzGerald ever bore towards the dead girl 
 any more intense feeling than that of mere friendship. 
 
 On 19th November, FitzGerald refers to the marriage of 
 his old schoolfellow Arthur Malkin (son of Dr. Malkin, 
 Master of Bury School), ' a very clever person, and very 
 reserved about himself — firm to his purpose, resolute, a 
 great courtier. '^ There is more frequenting of the British 
 Museum, much theatre-going with Spedding, and a good 
 deal of time is spent with Thackeray. Two mornings at 
 the house of Thackeray's stepfather, Carmichael Smith, ^ 
 are particularly remembered, seeing that Thackeray 
 occupied them in enriching FitzGerald's copy of Undine 
 with sixteen water-colour drawings.' Says Mrs. Ritchie : 
 ' At a time of great trouble [the illness of Thackeray's 
 wife], it was FitzGerald's extraordinary goodness that 
 brought help through the saddest days of Thackeray's 
 life. FitzGerald gave him orders for drawings which 
 brought money into the empty purse, and "shared his 
 troubles with a liberal heart." '^ 
 
 ^ For complete poem see Miscellmiies (Macmillan), p. 205. 
 - FitzGerald's Word Portraits, Rev. E. K. Browne's MS. 
 2 Albion Street, Hyde Park. 
 * The Biographical Edition of Thackeray's Works.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 HARP AND LUTE 
 
 MAY 1834— JULY 1835 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 5. ' The Old Beau ' in r,5£ Af^/jfl/^^, .... 1834 
 
 6. 'The Merchant's Daughter,' /(^., .... 1834 
 
 FitzGerald owes his immortality in a great measure 
 to his keen passion for retaining only the concentrated 
 essence of things. In his writings he en- 3^ Genius for 
 deavoured always to keep before himself the concentrating, 
 example of Gray's Elegy. He was always saying, 
 'Abridge, concentrate, distil.' Scissors and paste were 
 his harp and lute. The passion exhibits itself in every- 
 thing he does. He must have a ' Paradise ' into which 
 can be admitted only the finer part of literature. He reads 
 the Spectator, and would like * to publish all the papers 
 about Sir Roger de Coverley alone.' He has a parrot's 
 skill in extracting kernels and scattering the shells. 
 Favourite authors he would himself abbreviate with 
 scissors and paste. By and by we shall find him so 
 employed with Richardson's Clarissa, Crabbe's Tales of 
 the Hall, and a host of inferior books. Wesley's 
 Journal, always a favourite with him, required, he 
 thought, the same treatment ; and as late as 1877 he was 
 suggesting to Fanny Kemble that she should condense 
 her 'Gossip,' which had appeared in the Atlantic 
 
 119
 
 I20 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Magazine. This feature in his character was of para- 
 mount service to him when, in middle life, he approached 
 Omar Khayyam. Much as he admired Omar — who for 
 brevity was an absolute Gray among Persian poets, 
 most of whom wrote tens of thousands of lines — his 
 perfect taste suggested that the essence would be far 
 more delectable then the whole. Hence that poem of 
 only a hundred and one quatrains. To this habit of 
 fastidious selection and pitiless condensation, and to his 
 custom of tearing out of books leaves which he considered 
 valueless, and welding a dozen thus attenuated volumes 
 into one, we shall have again to refer. 
 
 In the summer of 1834 FitzGerald paid a visit to the 
 
 home of W. Kenworthy Browne at Bedford, and he visited 
 
 Bedford nearly every summer up to the time 
 
 House" Be?- o^ Browne's death. The Brownes, as we have 
 
 ford. Frank g^id, resided at Cauldwell House in Cauld- 
 
 ^^^° ' well Street, on the left as you proceed from 
 St. Mary's Street, and just opposite the residence of 
 Mr. Browne's friend, the late nonagenarian, Mr. George 
 Hurst. A narrow channel called, after King Offa, the 
 King's Brook, which takes its course from the Ouse, and 
 borders what was formerly Mr. Hurst's garden, crosses 
 under the road, runs down the east side of the garden 
 of Cauldwell House, and joins the Ouse again at a spot 
 called Duck Mill. The house has been altered since 
 Browne's time, but recently, when I visited it, the room 
 on the left of the entrance-hall had seen little change ; 
 and the walls were coloured, not inappropriately, a rich 
 brown, ornamented with gilding. Here the friends spent 
 many a happy hour together talking, reading, and smok- 
 ing, while Browne's top boots, polished like a mirror, 
 stood on a chair, with his scarlet coat hung over the back 
 — all ready against the hunting-season. Browne's smart,
 
 HARP AND LUTE 123 
 
 handsome, dapper little figure made a striking contrast 
 to the larger, shambling, carelessly dressed form of Fitz- 
 Gerald. A large room in the rear opened into a con- 
 servatory, which again led into a garden adjoined by a 
 close which then extended to Pilcroft Street. 'This 
 house,' says FitzGerald, 'is just on the edge of the 
 town : a garden on one side skirted by the public road, 
 which again is skirted by a row of such poplars as only 
 Ouse knows how to rear — and pleasantly they rustle 
 now — and the room in which I write is quite cool and 
 opens into a greenhouse which opens into said garden : 
 and it 's all deuced pleasant.' ^ Browne was then eighteen 
 years of age, 'full of confidence, generosity, and the 
 glorious spirit of youth.' The friends spent much of 
 their time riding and fishing, and FitzGerald found him- 
 self very ' much in love with Bedfordshire.' 
 
 Now and again he heard from Allen, who was married 
 and settled in London, and in one of his replies he tells 
 how very welcome these letters were, and adds, ' I am an 
 idle fellow, of a very lady-like turn of sentiment, and 
 my friendships are more like loves, I think.' 2 He is 
 often at his mother's (he never calls it his father's), 17 
 Gloucester Street, Queen Square ; he smokes a pipe 
 with Frederick Tennyson and the impecunious Morton in 
 Mornington Crescent ; and meets at the British Museum 
 his old Cambridge friend Frank B. Edgeworth, youngest 
 son of Richard Lovell Edgeworth. The genealogical 
 table of the Edgeworths is as puzzling as that of the 
 man we have all met 'going to St. Ives.' Richard L. 
 Edgeworth, it is true, had only four wives, but these 
 four had among them, at what was apparently the last 
 time of counting, twenty-two children. ^ His first wife 
 
 1 Letters (Macmillan), vol. i. p. 6i. " Ibid. (Macmillan) vol. i. p. 30. 
 
 ' For list, see Life and Letters of Maria Edge-worthy vol. i. p. 243.
 
 124 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 was the mother of 'the great Maria,' his fourth the 
 mother of Frank. ^ The sister and brother (who looked 
 like grandmother and grandson) were at this time aged 
 respectively sixty-seven and twenty-five. Frank Edge- 
 worth, who married a Spanish lady, Rosa Florentina 
 Eroles, is pictured by FitzGerald as 'a very intelligent 
 and agreeable person ; very generous ; . . . gets through 
 a great deal of business with ease, and is quiet in manner, 
 but very cheerful spirits ; warm-hearted and affectionate.' ^ 
 Carlyle describes Edgeworth — ' Poor little Frank' — as 'a 
 short, neat man : of sleek, square, colourless face, with 
 small blue eyes, in which twinkled curiously a joyless 
 smile.' He had a croaky, shrill voice, was deeply read 
 in Plato, Kant, and other philosophers, and looked coldly 
 on all creeds. Edgeworth's philosophy paired well with 
 Kemble's combined philosophy and Anglo-Saxonism. It 
 was as much as their pockets could do to bear the strain. 
 
 To The Keepsake, an annual edited by Frederic Mansel 
 Reynolds, FitzGerald, in 1834, contributed two poems 
 37. 'The Old which do not appear in any collection of Fitz- 
 Beau,'i834. Gerald's works. One, 'The Old Beau,' has 
 vigour and humour ; but the other, ' The Merchant and 
 his Daughter,' has neither ; and both, wonderful for 
 him, are signed with his name in full. The first com- 
 mences — 
 
 ' The days we used to laugh, Tom, 
 
 At tales of love and tears of passion ; 
 The bowls we used to quaff, Tom, 
 
 In toasting all the toasts in fashion ; 
 The heaths and hills we ranged, Tom, 
 
 When limb ne'er fail'd, when step ne'er faltered ; 
 Alas ! how things are changed, Tom, 
 
 How we — and all the world — are altered ! ' 
 
 ^ Born 1809 ; married 19th December 1831 ; died 1846. 
 
 ^ The unpublished manuscript in possession of the Rev. E. Ken worthy Browne.
 
 HARP AND LUTE 125 
 
 His college days are recalled, and his college friends — 
 
 ' And some their race have run, Tom, 
 
 And some are ruin'd — some are risen, 
 And some have had their fun, Tom, 
 In parliament and some — in prison.' 
 
 He then goes on to lament the degeneracy of the 
 present times compared with the past. Tradesfolk give 
 trouble now if you delay them a year or two ; at any ball 
 you may notice 'the falling off in face and figure.' Gazing 
 on the young ladies of to-day, we are obliged to say with 
 a sigh, * You 're nothing to your mothers ! ' He looks 
 forward, however, to a little pleasure from two visits from 
 a couple of ancient relics — ' Jekyll ' and ' Lady Aldboro'.' 
 
 ' Out on the greybeard Time, Tom, 
 
 He makes the best turned leg grow thinner; 
 He spares not sex nor clime, Tom, 
 
 Nor tis — the old relentless sinner ! 
 But come down and be gay, Tom, 
 
 At the old Hall, and banish sorrow ; 
 For Jekyll comes to-day, Tom, 
 
 And LaJy Aldboro' to-morrow.' 
 
 'The Merchant and his Daughter' is altogether in- 
 ferior. An old Jew, surrounded by his deeds and money- 
 bags, has a presentiment of ill. He expresses his 
 detestation of the Christians, and goes out to work them 
 'spite,' whereupon his daughter announces that she 
 herself has become a Christian. She rejoices in Jesus, 
 
 who 
 
 ' Makes light the wearied sinner's yoke 
 And comforteth the weak.' 
 
 She looks forward to the time when the stain that has 
 defiled God's chosen people shall be cleansed, and when 
 
 ' The harp of Judah's tribe again 
 Shall welcome Judah's child.'
 
 126 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 The verses were written to an accompanying plate, ^ 
 which represents Shylock handing Jessica the keys, 
 whilst Launcelot stands in the background ; and a 
 number of Shakespeare's expressions — 'wry-necked fife,' 
 
 * fast bind, fast find,' 'by Jacob's staff' — are worked in. 
 Despite its poverty, however, ' The Merchant and his 
 Daughter ' is no worse than the other ' sweet ' things 
 ' in the Keepsake^ by Lord Diddle ' ^ and his fellow-con- 
 tributors with imposing titles and feeble intellects. 
 
 In April 1835 FitzGerald is visiting Spedding — 'that 
 mad wag,' 'old Jem Spedding the Wise,' 'my sheet 
 38. In the anchor,' Thackeray's 'Jeames Spending' — 
 
 Lake Country. ^^ Mirehousc by Bassenthwaite lake, just 
 under the ' double-fronted head of Skiddaw ' — a region of 
 fells, cascades, white cottages nestling under crags, and 
 
 * streams more sweet than Castaly.' ^ Bassenthwaite lake 
 and Derwentwater lie like two pears, the taper end of 
 each pointing to the other, and the Derwent river join- 
 ing them. The vicinage is all classic ground. At 
 Keswick, on the Greta, just before it enters Derwent- 
 water, stood the cottage in which Coleridge resided from 
 1800 to 1804, and here he was visited by Lamb and 
 Southey. To the south-east, and in Westmorland, are 
 two other smaller pear-shaped lakes, also lying stalk to 
 stalk — Grasmere and Rydal Water — sacred to Words- 
 worth and De Quincey. 
 
 It was the time of daffodils, which yellowed the field 
 in front of the house. Spedding's father was at his 
 farm most of the day, and in the evening settled to a 
 
 ^ A common custom in the * Annuals ' period. In the same volume, for 
 example, Mrs. Shelley writes a tale, ' The Mortal Immortal,' to go with 
 Briggs's well-known picture of 'Juliet and the Nurse,' who become 'Bertha' 
 and a 'high-born hag.' 
 
 - Biographical Edition of Thackeray, xiii. p. 601. 
 
 ' Wordsworth.
 
 HARP AND LUTE 127 
 
 book, saying little — a practical man, who liked neither 
 poets nor their vagaries — and therefore not too pleased 
 that his son found no better company than ' The Cock ' 
 coterie. The old man suffered in company with Charles 
 Kemble and the relatives of Frank Edgeworth. ' Jem ' 
 Spedding was one more sheep (one more of FitzGerald's 
 friends) gone astray into the wilderness of unremunera- 
 tive literature. But Spedding had a mastery of himself 
 that would have extorted praise from an Epictetus. 
 Stoicism and a quiet melancholy were his chief charac- 
 teristics. He could not quite drive out the sadness 
 brought about by the loss of friends — and death had 
 already removed friends from him — but that verse of 
 Horace's, so ably translated by Dryden, always lined 
 his melancholy with gold — 
 
 * Happy the man, and happy he alone, 
 He who can call to-day his own ' ; 
 
 and especially the concluding lines — 
 
 ' Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, 
 And what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.' 
 
 Later he could write, ' The past is sacred and sanctified, 
 nothing can happen hereafter to alter or disturb or 
 obliterate it. . . . To me there are no companions more 
 welcome, cordial, consolatory, or cheerful than my dead 
 friends.' ^ 
 
 Subsequently there joined the party Alfred Tennyson, 
 'Hercules as well as Apollo,'^ 'a sort of Hyperion,' 
 powerful, serene, with a great shock of dusty dark hair, 
 bright, laughing, hazel eyes, massive aquiline face, and 
 sallow brown complexion. ^ The poet found little favour 
 with the elder Spedding, who cared nothing for Lords 
 
 ^ Autobiography of [Sir'] Henry Taylor. 
 
 '•' Brookfield. ^ Carlyle.
 
 128 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 of Burleigh ; preferred a sheep's fleece to the hair of a 
 mermaid ; and did not even want to know ' where Claribel 
 low lieth.' ' Well, Mr. FitzGerald,' Mr. Spedding would 
 say, 'and what is it? Mr. Tennyson reads, and Jem 
 criticises, is that it?' Tennyson read aloud a great deal 
 of Wordsworth (he particularly admired * Michael '), 
 Keats, and Milton ; and Spedding not only read aloud 
 too 'as if bees were about his mouth,' but drew a pic- 
 ture of Tennyson in an armchair. With Mrs. Spedding 
 — a motherly body — FitzGerald used to play chess ; and 
 there was also present a Mrs. Bristowe, who would have 
 them call the place Merehouse. The three friends as- 
 cended the 'mountain called Dod,' rambled over Grise- 
 dale Pike, and at the end of May went to lodge for a 
 week at Ambleside, within a mile of Wordsworth, who 
 then resided at Rydal Mount. But neither FitzGerald 
 nor Tennyson, much as they admired 'the Daddy,' as 
 they called him, would pay the veteran poet a visit. 
 Says Spedding: 'I could not get Alfred to Rydal 
 Mount. He would and would not (sulky one), although 
 Wordsworth was hospitably inclined towards him,' 
 Tennyson's ' little humours and grumpinesses ' pro- 
 voked frequent laughter, especially from FitzGerald, 
 who, as Spedding said, 'loved to see a man in his 
 weaknesses,'^ and FitzGerald amused himself with his 
 pencil, producing, among other sketches, a chalk draw- 
 ing of a back view of Tennyson's head and shoulders.^ 
 He writes to Thackeray, who is in Paris, to say how 
 happy he is ; and Thackeray in a reply proposed that 
 they should take a chateau in Normandy and be 
 nothing to the world for a year — accompanying the text 
 (as was his wont) with an illustration of the imagined 
 
 ^ Unpublished letter of Spedding's. 
 
 ^ There is an engraving from it in the Life of Lord Tennyson.
 
 HARP AND LUTE 129 
 
 chateau. ' We would fit it up in the old style, and live 
 in it after the manner of Orestes and Pylades.' ^ 
 
 After leaving Ambleside, FitzGerald stayed again at 
 Castle Irwell, and later, for a month, at Warwick — drawn 
 thither by Sir Walter Scott's story. He sketches, reads 
 Dante, and poetizes. Hearing that Tennyson, whose 
 income was small, needed a certain sum by a particular 
 date, he wrote and offered, in a delicate manner, to send 
 it. In one of his references to Tennyson, FitzGerald, 
 revealing an extraordinary weakness, observes : ' I felt 
 what Charles Lamb describes, a sense of depression at 
 times from the overshadowing of a so much more lofty 
 intellect than my own.' Yet FitzGerald, take you his 
 gifts as poet, letter-writter, and critic, stands at least 
 Tennyson's equal ; just as Lamb does not occupy a plane 
 inferior to that of Coleridge and the other bright particular 
 spirits by whom he was surrounded, and of whom he 
 occasionally stood in awe. 
 
 As we noticed, FitzGerald's father had, some years 
 previous, purchased Boulge Hall, subject to the life- 
 interest in it of Mrs. Short. That acrimonious ^^ pareweU 
 old lady being now dead, he decided to make to Wherstead. 
 it his home. FitzGerald gets up early one July morning, 
 slips on an ancient red dressing-gown, goes to his battered 
 rosewood desk, and writes a letter to Thackeray telling the 
 news. The whole family, he says, is collected there — all 
 his brothers and sisters, with their wives, husbands, and 
 children, including his brother John's wife Augusta, the 
 idol of her husband, sweet, cheerful, and Christianly as 
 ever, who, though only twenty-four, is marked for 
 death. There is then nothing but packing up sofas and 
 pictures ; and all left very regretfully— after a connection 
 of ten years — a beautiful home, in which they had ex- 
 perienced much happiness. 
 
 1 Biographical Edition of Thackeray, vol. ix. p. 41.
 
 BOOK I I I 
 
 BOULGE 
 
 Eighteen Years (July 1835-1853)
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 BOULGE HALL 
 
 JULY 1835 — AUGUST 1838 
 
 FitzGerald describes Boulge, with its pollards and 
 regular hedges, as one of the ugliest and dullest places in 
 England ; but matters have since improved. ^^^ Boulge 
 Thus the local mania for felling trees has ^au. 
 spent itself, and in spring and summer, whatever it may 
 be in winter, the country round has many a quiet charm. 
 As regards company, if there is not the roar of Cheapside, 
 there is the song of the thrush ; and I saw at Boulge in an 
 hour more cowslips than I had before seen in all my life. It 
 is truly a land of cowslips. Boulge Park was yellow with 
 them, stretching away like a sea as far as the eye could 
 reach, and loading the air with their refreshing perfume. 
 And the cowslip reminds of FitzGerald's great love for our 
 English wildflowers — ' for all deare Nature's children 
 sweete.'^ He took the trouble to underline in his copy of 
 Ainsworth's Anglo-Saxon Dictionary''- the name of every 
 wildflower mentioned. He loved the heavenly blue rosettes 
 of the succory which star the road between Boulge and 
 Woodbridge, and especially loved the violet, * fearing to be 
 looked upon,' which he made the subject of a short poem.^ 
 On the way from Woodbridge to Boulge you pass ' The 
 
 * Lines from an old poet, copied by FitzGerald into his ' Museum Book.' 
 2 Now in possession of Mr. Vincent Redstone of Woodbridge. 
 ' Miscellanies, p. 207. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 134 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 White House,' FitzGerald's birthplace, on your left, and 
 Bredfield village and church on your right. At the gate 
 of Boulge Park is Mrs. Short's thatched cottage, and 
 following the drive one reaches the Hall, a handsome 
 building of Queen Anne date, with a spacious porch, 
 standing on a balustraded terrace, and picturesquely sur- 
 rounded with flower gardens and ornamental trees. 
 Climbing plants cover the walls — one a cascade of delicate 
 blue, and so lovely that the gardener, when passing it, 
 religiously doffs his hat ; whilst there are ample kitchen 
 gardens and modern greenhouses in the rear. The house 
 was scarcely a convenient one in the FitzGeralds' time, 
 though some of the rooms were of noble proportions. 
 In the library were glass cases with relics from Naseby, 
 and at the head of the stairs were two large oil paintings, 
 one representing Edward FitzGerald and his brothers 
 John and Peter as boys,^ and another (which is still 
 in the house) a view of Naseby Woolleys. The stables 
 and the room adjoining — 'the chapel,' where John 
 FitzGerald held his evangelistic services, and Edward 
 sometimes taught the village children — are little altered, 
 whilst 'Old Nelly,' the clock referred to by Edward 
 in his letters, still keeps very good time — 'ten of the 
 clock, by the chime now sounding from the stables.' ^ 
 The filmy forms of Colonel and Mrs. Short, who lived 
 and died so miserably, are said to haunt the park, but 
 in the spirit they are as disobliging to visitors as they 
 were in the flesh to each other, for though we have 
 been there at dusk, and have even looked out of a 
 window at Boulge Hall near midnight, they never once 
 vouchsafed us a sight of their persons. The church, 
 approached from the Hall by an avenue of beeches, is of 
 
 ^ It was at Boulge Hall in 1851. 
 
 ^ To F. Tennyson, loth December 1843.
 
 BOULGE HAI.L 
 
 Front a pkoto^r^ph by R. Eato}i ]t'liite^ Esq. 
 
 BOULGK CHURCH 
 From a photoivafli liy R. liatou ll'hile, lisij. 
 
 ri.ATl- X\I.
 
 BOULGE HALL 137 
 
 flint, with an ivy-covered brick tower, near which are the 
 mausoleum of the FitzGeralds, and the tomb, of which 
 we shall have occasion to speak particularly in the last 
 chapter of this work. 
 
 If FitzGerald did not eulogise his own corner of Suffolk, 
 he at any rate preferred Boulge to his town lodgings ; 
 and handsome Mr. Osborn Shribb Reynolds, the venerable 
 white-headed rector, to old Lady Morgan, who in her 
 powders and paint then dominated literary London. 
 Boulge was at least clean (how often in later years he 
 urged Carlyle to leave his filthy London), and it was 
 pleasant too to sit ' on the banks of the dear old Deben,' 
 distant only a mile or two, ' and watch the collier sloop 
 going forth into the wide world as the sun sinks.' 
 While, indeed, FitzGerald, whether in earnest or not, 
 deprecates very frequently Boulge and Woodbridge, he 
 can never speak glowingly enough of the Deben, which 
 inspired at least three of his friends — Mitford, Barton, 
 and John Hindes Groome. Mitford, then editor of the 
 Gentleman's Magazine^ wrote ' The Walk ' on the 
 banks of the Deben, and 'The Farmer's Daughter,' ^ 
 about a pleasant young lady who on a Sunday gives 
 to all a modest greeting, 'except' (deliciously) 'the 
 folks who came from meeting ' ; Barton sang ' No stately 
 villas' ;- Groome ' Deben ! no cloud-capped mountains,'"^ 
 confining his attention to the river before it broadens out 
 into its wide estuary. FitzGerald, however, instead of 
 sitting at home and writing about the Deben, went out in 
 boat or yacht and enjoyed it. 
 
 About the time the FitzGeralds removed to Boulge, the 
 Rev. George Crabbe, son of the poet, was appointed to 
 
 ^ ' On Deben's banks our little farm.' Gentle/nan^s Magazine, November 
 1835, December 1836. 
 - Household Verses, p. 234. ^ Gentleman^ s Magazine, September 1S39.
 
 138 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 the vicarage of the adjoining parish of Bredfield. As we 
 shall have occasion to speak of three Crabbes, all clergy- 
 .jQj. men, and all named George, a word or two 
 
 Crabbe the may be required to prevent confusion. The 
 first George Crabbe was the poet, and very 
 much FitzGerald's idol, who, as we saw, died at Trow- 
 bridge in 1832. George Crabbe the second, son of the 
 poet, was vicar of Bredfield. George Crabbe the third 
 was son of George Crabbe the second, and rector of 
 Merton, in Norfolk. George Crabbe the second, ' The 
 Radiator,' as FitzGerald dubbed him, from the gleams of 
 wisdom and mirth he emitted, was at this time about 
 fifty, or almost double the age of FitzGerald, who had 
 just passed twenty-six. He was a strong, muscular man 
 of the Parson Adams type, with a prominent Wellington 
 nose. Like FitzGerald, he was careless of personal 
 appearance, his clothes did not fit, his hat was never in 
 the right place. As he could not be trusted with money 
 (for when out he invariably gave away all he had to the 
 needy or the plausible), his daughters used to take the 
 precaution of emptying his pockets before he quitted the 
 house. He was loved by all in the parish, and he loved 
 all and prayed for all, 'including Mary Ann Cuthbert,' 
 the only black sheep in his flock. FitzGerald calls him 
 heroic,^ noble-minded, rash in judgment and act, liable 
 ' to sudden and violent emotions, and morbidly self- 
 distrustful, though over-confident in the success of causes 
 near his heart ; with simple habits ' and a Cervantic 
 humour. He had a passion for botany and fine trees, 
 and once pleased FitzGerald hugely by saying of a land- 
 owner who had felled some oaks that he had ' scandalously 
 misused the globe.' 
 
 His Life of his father, written in 1835 is, of course, a 
 
 ^ Gentleman^s Magazine, November 1857.
 
 BOULGE HALL 139 
 
 classic, and FitzGerald considered it ' one of the most 
 delightful memoirs in the language.' Yet for the muse 
 George Crabbe the second cared so little that he did not 
 even take the trouble to read his father's poems till late in 
 life. One of his first actions on settling at Bredfield was 
 to erect a new vicarage at a cost of ;^i400. He loved to 
 sit and meditate in a dismal little study, reeking with 
 tobacco smoke, and smelling like an inn-parlour, which 
 he called 'The Cobblery.' Here he prepared his sermons 
 and entertained his friends, smoking unintermittently and 
 increasing in happiness as their forms became more indis- 
 tinct. Such was the man who for twenty-two years was 
 to be FitzGerald's neighbour and intimate friend. Crabbe, 
 whose wife was dead, had a large family, including three 
 daughters, and with the eldest, Caroline Matilda — a tall, 
 fair girl with two large curls, one on each side her face — 
 FitzGerald presently fell deeply in love, a fact that has 
 never before been recorded. She was pious and ami- 
 able, and, like FitzGerald, musical. By Crabbe's wish 
 FitzGerald went in and out of Bredfield vicarage as if 
 it was his own house. The younger children were fond 
 of him and proud to go into the garden, where he used to 
 sit and write, and call him to lunch, ' but he was sure not 
 to come if called, though he would come if not called ' ; 
 and he made them happy by praising their gardens 
 because they were overrun with nasturtiums, his favourite 
 flower. 
 
 Among the books dear to FitzGerald was the Rev. 
 John Newton's Letters to a Wife, his unstinted praise of 
 which has had the effect of reattracting atten- ^ Newton 
 tion to a delightful and once popular work, and Cowper. 
 People are rather apt to regard Newton as a kind of 
 satellite of Cowper, whereas he had a notable and distinct 
 individuality, and, leaving out of consideration his prose
 
 I40 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 masterpiece, ranks as a hymnist with the very greatest ; 
 for if his worst hymns, like the worst of Wesley, Watts, 
 and Cowper, are feeble and unpoetical, his best — for 
 example, 'How sweet the name of Jesus sounds,' and 
 ' Begone, Unbelief — are second to none in the language. 
 Another error that many, and FitzGerald among them, 
 have fallen into is that of regarding Newton's influence 
 over Cowper as deleterious — the bright, witty, almost 
 jovial Newton, that delightful fountain of sound divinity 
 and unconsidered bons mots, that ecclesiastical Charles 
 Lamb, who spent all his life, as his letters to Symonds 
 and others show, in trying to cheer up souls less buoyant 
 than his own ! Southey blackened Newton to posterity, 
 and hundreds since, without taking the trouble to inves- 
 tigate for themselves, have echoed his words. FitzGerald 
 himself, whilst expressing admiration for Newton, was 
 carried away by Southey 's diatribe. Writing on 31st 
 October 1835, he says : ' I have just read Southey's Life 
 of Cowper — that is to say, the first volume. ... It is a 
 fearful book. Have you read it? Southey hits hard at 
 Newton in the dark ; which will give offence to many 
 people ; but I perfectly agree with him. At the same 
 time, I think that Newton was a man of great power. 
 Did you ever read his life by himself? ^ Pray do, if 
 you have not. His journal to his wife,^ written at sea, 
 contains some of the most beautiful things I ever read : 
 fine "feeling" in "very fine" English.'^ FitzGerald 
 found the second volume of Southey dull, seeing that 
 ' one is naturally impatient of all matter that does not 
 
 ^ The Authentic Narrative, etc., August 1764. 
 
 2 Letters to a Wife. 2 vols. April 1793. Vol. i. written during three' 
 voyages to Africa (from 1750 to 1754); vol. ii. written in England (from 1755 
 to 1785). 
 
 2 Letters of Edward FitzGerald, vol. i. p. 41. Quoted by permission of 
 Messrs. Macmillan.
 
 BOULGE HALL 141 
 
 absolutely touch Cowper ' — a reference to Southey's 
 wearisome and interminable digression on the history of 
 poetry ; but observes that he is glad W. B. Donne had 
 read the work with satisfaction. In March (1836) Donne 
 was exhibiting interest in the reputed common ancestor 
 of himself and Cowper, namely the Rev. Dr. Donne, 
 the distinguished Dean of St. Paul's, and FitzGerald 
 urged him to secure a copy of his ' ancestor's sermons.' 
 
 Spedding had just furnished chambers in Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields, and FitzGerald in company with him one 
 day paid a visit to their common friend R. J. Tennant at 
 Blackheath, where they met Frank Edgeworth, who had 
 taken a large house at Eltham, near King John's Palace, 
 and was advertising for pupils to prepare for the Univer- 
 sity. ' Poor Edgeworth,' writes Carlyle, who about this 
 time^ paid a visit to Eltham, 'tried this business for a 
 while, but found no success at all. ... I very well recol- 
 lect the big Edgeworth house at Eltham ; the big old 
 palace now a barn.' A few years later Frank returned to 
 his native Edgeworthstown and took charge of the estates 
 of his famous half-sister. 
 
 In January 1837 FitzGerald is at Geldestone Hall 
 again, taking Christopher Wordsworth's advice and sur- 
 rendering himself to Aristophanes, who makes him laugh 
 heartily. Wherever FitzGerald goes he finds — and for 
 such research he had a perfect genius — some dear old 
 lady who delights him by her conversation and agreeable 
 manner, and who, on her side, is charmed with his good 
 nature and chivalry. Thus at Gillingham, near Gelde- 
 stone, he makes friends with a Mrs. Schutz, who imparts 
 to him * the names of the stars and other chaste informa- 
 tion ' ; and to his conversations with her may be traced 
 
 ^ Spring 1836. FitzGerald was at Blackheath, middle of March 1836. 
 Carlyle's Life of Sterling, chap. iv.
 
 142 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 his reference to the ' zodiacal constellations which Aries 
 leads over the field of Heaven,'^ and some other effective 
 allusions in his works. He gets for her, and at her 
 request promptly, for she did not expect to live through 
 the year, a copy of Taylor's Holy Living a7id Holy Dyuig^ 
 but as a matter of fact she lived another ten years, and 
 imparted additional astronomical information. Fitz- 
 Gerald's pleasure in the society of cheery and cultured 
 old ladies continued right on until he became an old 
 lady himself — until he was numbered (his own expres- 
 sion) among the ' dowagers ' of Woodbridge. 
 
 To the thatched cottage erected by Mrs. Short close 
 to the gates of Boulge Park we have several times 
 
 alluded. FitzGerald, who had spent the last 
 tae-e at^ ° " seven years of his life rambling about the 
 Boulge, April country with friends or staying with relatives, 
 
 now felt a desire for a home or den of his 
 very own, and made up his mind to take up his abode 
 there. 
 
 It was, and is, a single storied tenement of two apart- 
 ments separated by a passage. He made the room on 
 the right of the entrance his study, that on the left his 
 bedroom. He complained that the walls, which are of 
 lath and plaster, were as 'thin as a sixpence,' and damp. 
 In the rear were trees, including a walnut — the last a 
 doubtful advantage, owing to boys not being unknown 
 in those parts. The tenement at the back of this cottage, 
 and adjoining it, was occupied by a Waterloo man named 
 John Faire," who worked for FitzGerald's father ; whilst 
 Mrs. Faire, a snuffy but vain old woman, with very red 
 arms, who wore, besides other vanities, an enormous 
 
 ^ Euphranor. 
 
 - The name is thus spelt on his tombstone in Boulge churchyard, but I have 
 also seen it spelt ' Faiers.' He died in i860, aged seventy-seven.
 
 y. 
 
 O 
 N 
 H 
 
 U 
 Z 
 
 < 
 
 
 o 
 u 
 
 t3 
 
 o 

 
 BOULGE HALL 145 
 
 bonnet full of flowers, looked after 'Mr. Edward.' Fitz- 
 Gerald had in his heart a soft corner for all Waterloo men, 
 and he esteemed John particularly because he had not 
 only fought in the battle but had also guarded Napoleon 
 at St. Helena. Save for the loss of a thumb, the good 
 man was none the worse for his military experiences ; 
 moreover, as another man in the parish had three thumbs, 
 matters, as John remarked, could not possibly have been 
 more nicely adjusted. By April FitzGerald had got the 
 garden in order, put his books on the shelves (as you 
 passed along the drive you could see them through the 
 window), set Stothard's Canterbury Pilgrims over the 
 fireplace, Shakespeare's bust in a recess, and begun with 
 a cat, a dog, and a parrot called ' Beauty Bob ' a very 
 pleasant Robinson Crusoe sort of life. His wants were 
 few. He had books and pictures, a barrel of beer, and 
 his snuffy, red-armed, finely-bedizened old woman ; and 
 he wanted nothing more. His bedroom was furnished 
 as simply as the prophet's chamber at Shunem. Ward- 
 robe he had none — for he could always hang the few 
 clothes he possessed on his own person, and badly 
 hung they were. The study, on the other hand, was 
 crowded. Order not being one of his weaknesses, the 
 books that would not go on his shelves were heaped on 
 the floor. Here were portraits on wall or easel, there 
 large pictures, boots, music, tobacco pipes, walking-sticks, 
 mingled in pleasing confusion on table, chair, and piano 
 (for the new Robinson Crusoe had a piano, and played 
 excellently). With his window open to let in the odour 
 of the cowslips or the garden flowers, FitzGerald sat in 
 dressing-gown and slippers, pipe in mouth, and let time 
 slide — troubling about, and being troubled by, nobody, 
 except the Woodbridge man who brought him his letters 
 and thrice a week shaved him, and the matchman, with
 
 146 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 his bundles of great sulphur-tipped matches, whom ' you 
 could smell a mile off.' 
 
 On Sundays he occasionally attended church with the 
 other members of the family, but, for the reason that it 
 was damp and given over to toadstools and mice, which 
 ate the pew curtains, he more frequently took a walk, 
 preferring to study Nature, if at all, out of doors, or 
 settled himself in his cottage to literature whilst the 
 sounds of the distant Grundisburgh bells floated music- 
 ally in at the window. 
 
 Of a week evening he would, often as not, light a 
 lantern, and cross the fields to spend an hour or two 
 with Crabbe in the ' Cobblery,' the chief joys there being, 
 of course, pipes, at which old Shribb Reynolds, the Boulge 
 rector, in his spectacles with circular eyepieces, some- 
 times assisted. When they joined the ladies (FitzGerald 
 liked to sit next to Caroline), pleasant talk and music 
 occupied most of the time, though — the vicar's family 
 included — they had not a voice among them. At home 
 he read the fine sacred poems of Henry Vaughan, in a 
 collection of the Rev. John Mitford's, Plutarch's Lives ^ in 
 which he revelled, and Theocritus. 
 
 That there was a strain of indolence in FitzGerald (as 
 in the other members of the family) is clear enough ; but 
 he was also, as we have before intimated, a man of 
 ambition — he had an intense desire to excel in composi- 
 tion, both prose and poetry ; and, to bring about this, 
 took infinite pains. Few men read more voraciously, and 
 everything that was excellent in what he read he copied 
 out or made note of. He was as ambitious in his way as 
 Spedding, Carlyle, or Tennyson, and he succeeded. 
 His writings, whether in prose or poetry, have taken 
 their place in the first rank. His fine letters, the 
 Euphranor, the Salafnan, and the Omar, are the result of
 
 BOULGE HALL 147 
 
 assiduous study. Men do not write classic English by- 
 accident ; and FitzGerald was no exception. Whatever 
 he did he subjected to continual polish — even his earliest 
 poems betray this — and, like all really great souls, he 
 was never satisfied with himself. 
 
 In the August of this year (1837) died the sweet and 
 lovable Augusta, wife of his brother John, who never 
 really recovered from the blow. She was only twenty-six, 
 and left three children, Olivia, who died the following 
 year, Gerald, and Maurice.^ John FitzGerald possessed 
 a large painting of his wife which he greatly prized, and 
 every night he had it taken from its place on the wall 
 and put at the foot of his bed, so that he could see it first 
 thing in the morning. Some of her clothes, too, he 
 would always have near him. Indeed all his life he 
 mourned his loss ; and this distressing event, acting 
 on a nervous nature, was probably responsible for the 
 eccentric conduct that marked his subsequent years. 
 
 By 1838 FitzGerald and Bernard Barton ^ had become 
 bosom friends, and not only met but often wrote to each 
 other, chiefly on literary matters. Barton 
 
 ... _ . . 1 . 1 1 1 • 44- Bernard 
 
 was at this time fifty-four, his daughter thirty- Barton and 
 
 one, and FitzGerald twenty-nine. In 1824 his daughter 
 
 Lucy. 
 
 the Quaker fraternity had presented Barton 
 with ^1200, so with his income at the bank he was now 
 in comfortable circumstances. His poems were known 
 in every Suffolk homestead, and good little maidens by 
 the Deben liked to see a copy lying in their chair beside 
 their prayer-book before going to sleep. Charles Lamb 
 praised the verses to the Memory of Bloomfield ; Fitz- 
 
 ' John married a second wife, Hester, daughter of Mr. William Haddon, who 
 outlived him, dying in 1888. 'I should never have married again,' he used to 
 say, 'but to give my children a mother.' 
 
 2 Barton lived first in Cumberland Street, afterwards at the back of Messrs. 
 Alexander's bank, and lastly near the Quakers' Meeting.
 
 148 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Gerald those to Joanna, and ' some on the decline of life 
 and the religious consolations attending it.' Barton was 
 very regular in his habits, and might be seen every- 
 day at precisely the same moment, in his broad-brim, 
 spectacles, gaiters, white stockings, and low shoes, 
 journeying in the direction of, or returning from, the 
 bank. He sometimes made excursions on the Deben 
 with FitzGerald, but got most happiness at his own cosy 
 fireside. There, a glass of wine, and the ' working box 
 and table companion ' of the poet Crabbe at his elbow, 
 snuff-box in hand, and Cowper's poems or one of Scott's 
 novels on knee, he purred like the sleek, scrupulously 
 clean, self-satisfied kitten which he precisely was. Year 
 after year he inclined more to his books and pictures, and 
 less to heath, cornfield, and river, and at last went but 
 rarely from home except to his bank and the meeting-house. 
 Let him be summed up in FitzGerald's words : 'A very 
 strange character ; a good-hearted and benevolent person, 
 with a good deal of pride and caution, with a pretence at 
 humility ; perverse, formal, strict, plain, and unpresuming 
 in his dress — a great many contradictions of character.'^ 
 
 Lucy Barton, afterwards FitzGerald's wife, tall, angular, 
 and pleasant (though plain), was her father's right- 
 hand, managing his house and interesting herself in his 
 literary work. She is the busy bee, * the gentle stream- 
 let, the flower making fragrant the meadow,' of his poems. 
 These, says he, ' are types of thee and of the active worth 
 thy modest merit hides.' The partiality of the father did 
 not notice that she was a rather peremptory busy bee, 
 and his verses clothe her with a personal beauty which 
 in the eyes of others she did not possess. She wrote 
 verses herself, some of which appeared in Fulcher's Sud- 
 hiiry Pocket-Book and other volumes, but in after years 
 
 ^ Browne Mss. Word Pictures.
 
 BOULGE HALL 149 
 
 repudiated, and justly, the insinuation that they were 
 poetry. Early in the twenties she had accompanied 
 her father on a visit to Charles Lamb, then domiciled at 
 Colebrook Cottage, Islington, and Lamb furnished for 
 her album the lines beginning — 
 
 ' Little Book surnamed of white,' 
 
 and ending — 
 
 'Whitest thoughts in whitest dress, 
 Candid meanings, best express 
 Mind of quiet Quakeress.' 
 
 To Lc.mb's beautiful essay, 'A Quaker's Meeting,' also 
 inspired by his friendship for Bernard and Lucy Barton, 
 one need do no more than refer. Barton was more than 
 once advised to leave Quakerism and ioin the Church of 
 England. Writing on ist September 1837, he says : ' I 
 am now almost the sole representative of my father's 
 house, . . . left as an adherent to the creed he adopted 
 from a conscientious conviction of truth. . . . Lucy tells 
 me I must turn too. ... I love them not a whit less 
 for abandoning it, . . . still I must e'en be a Quaker 
 still. My Lucy was, comparatively, a chit when she 
 apostatised ' ; and later, ' the longer I live, the more I 
 prize Quaker principles.' After Lamb's death, which 
 took place on 24th December 1834, Lucy Barton in an 
 un-Quakerly dress of blue muslin, called on Mary Lamb, 
 who took her hand, stroked down her skirts once or 
 twice, and said, with a look of surprise and perhaps of 
 slight reproach, * Bernard Barton's daughter ! ' ^ 
 
 A model housekeeper, and an excellent conversationalist, 
 prim, exact, and masterful, Lucy Barton went through life 
 authoritatively. Every one liked her — even her Sunday- 
 school scholars, though in the street they called after her, 
 at a safe distance, ' Step-a-yard,' in allusion to the long 
 
 ^ Article by E. V. L. in The Academy, 3rd December 1898.
 
 I50 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 strides she used to take. Primarily for her Sunday-school 
 scholars she wrote, and in 183 1 published, a book 
 entitled Bible Letters for Children^ with introductory 
 verses by her father: an 'unpretending little volume,' 
 submitted to the public ' with the distrust natural to a first 
 attempt in so important a field of labour.' The letters are 
 addressed to ' My dear children.' * I have thought,' says 
 the writer, ' that if you had a few letters written by one 
 who loves you very dearly, that . . . you would take them 
 up and read them, and might chance to find therein . . . 
 something that would lead you early to think upon that 
 great and good Being who made you and me, and all this 
 beautiful earth, and not these things only, but also a 
 glorious and happy heaven, where such of you as love to 
 obey Him will live in His presence for ever.' The intro- 
 ductory lines by Bernard Barton end with a striking verse. 
 After giving an epitome of Old Testament history, he 
 comes to Jesus Christ, the Resurrection, and the Gift of 
 the Comforter ; and concludes happily — 
 
 ' While such stupendous themes remain 
 
 For wonder, love, and praise^ 
 Who shall ungratefully maintain 
 These are not Bible days?' 
 
 The letters, twenty-nine in number, cover Bible history 
 from Genesis to the Captivity. In the closing address 
 the writer asks the children if they wish to have for their 
 friend the Almighty Being whose goodness and mercy 
 are so conspicuously evident in these narratives. ' I hear 
 you all say Yes ; for what would become of us if He were 
 against us? Oh, then, pray to the Saviour, that He may 
 fill your hearts with His Holy Spirit, which will lead you 
 to God.' The Bible Letters give us a good idea of one of 
 the sides of the character of her who was to become Fitz- 
 Gerald's wife. At the time of their publication, however,
 
 BOULGE HALL 151 
 
 though he was intimate with Lucy Barton, FitzGerald's 
 heart was with Caroline Crabbe. 
 
 In 1837 appeared Carlyle's French Revolution^ of which 
 FitzGerald, who did not like it on account of its absence 
 of repose and equable movement, says : ' I don't know a 
 book more certain to evaporate away from posterity than 
 that, except it be supported by his other works.' The 
 only pity is that Carlyle did not treat Cromwell and 
 Frederick in the same way as the Revolution, and give 
 compact and perfect works of art with a beginning, a 
 middle, and an end, instead of huge, shapeless, sprawling 
 masses, terrifying to all save the most venturesome and 
 intrepid. FitzGerald, however, when these came to be 
 written, liked them no better than the Revolution. Later, 
 Alfred Tennyson, 'very droll and wayward,' visited Fitz- 
 Gerald in his Boulge den, and sat and smoked late with 
 him ; and in May of the next year (1838) FitzGerald was 
 in London, where he heard Carlyle lecture on Hero- 
 Worship. He spent the 28th of June (Queen Victoria's 
 Coronation Day) at Kitlands, near Leith Hill, having 
 been, with Spedding and W. F. Pollock, invited there by 
 Douglas Heath, a Trinity tutor, and son of its owner. In 
 the grounds was a long open bath, secluded by trees, and 
 at the sound of the distant cannon announcing that the 
 coronation ceremony had been performed, the four took 
 headers into the water, and swam about, singing ' God 
 save the Queen.' FitzGerald's friend, Fanny Kemble, 
 who had married and settled in America, was now back in 
 London again, just in time to see her father leave the stage 
 and close his professional career. Anglo-Saxon Kemble 
 continued to get fame enough for two men, but not half 
 enough money for one ; Dickens had just published 
 Pickwick; and Sydney Smith was delighting the drawing- 
 rooms of London with his humorous sallies.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 
 
 AUGUST 1838 — JUNE 184I 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 7. 'Bredfield Hall,' JVriUen iS^g 
 
 8. ' Chronomoros ' in Fulcher's Poetical Mis- 
 
 cellany, Signed Anon. 1841 
 
 As we said, FitzGerald seems to have spent part of the 
 
 summer of every year at Bedford. Browne, the Ouse 
 
 and its poplars were never long- out of his 
 
 45. 'Flowing- • , tt • 
 
 Rivers full of mmd. He mterested himself in the literary 
 Fishes." 'The associations of the town and vicinity, and 
 
 Falcon at ^ "^ 
 
 Bietsoe, particularly in Bunyan, whose native village, 
 
 August 1838. Elstow, is distant barely a mile. The 
 Pilgrim's Progress was one of his favourite books. * Next 
 to the Bible parables,' says he, 'I believe John Bunyan 
 remains the most effective preacher among the poor to 
 this day.'^ Bedford was then not half its present size. 
 Browne's house, now some distance from the fields, was 
 on the edge of the town. A large portion of the east side 
 of the High Street formed the boundary of a spacious 
 garden, and sombre trees cast their shadows on the pave- 
 ment. The Grove and Grove Place were, in nature as 
 well as name, sylvan ways — of which now remain here a 
 few yews and there a chestnut. The old Grammar School, 
 
 ^ Preface to Polotiius. 
 162
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 153 
 
 though converted to other uses, still stands. It is an un- 
 pretentious building, with a dismal figure of Sir William 
 Harpur, roll in hand, in a niche, on its front. A 
 row of shops screened St. Paul's Church from the High 
 Street, and the picturesque front of the Pre-Reformation 
 old George Inn was not the only ancient house in that 
 thoroughfare. The four ancient churches of the town 
 present much the same appearance now as then. The 
 liliputian St. Cuthbert's Church had not yet given place 
 to the present edifice ; Trinity Church was building ; 
 Bunyan Meeting was a quaint structure, with three gables 
 in a row. 
 
 ' Fitz,' writes Spedding, ' is on his way to Bedford, in a 
 state of disgraceful indifference to everything except grass 
 and fresh air. What will become of him (in this world) ? ' 
 A favourite haunt of Browne and FitzGerald was ' The 
 Falcon ' at Bletsoe, a village eight miles north of the 
 town, to which they generally drove in a morning with 
 their fishing-rods. FitzGerald, however, who never went 
 without his colour-box, painted more pictures than he 
 caught fish ; and wished nothing better than to lie at his 
 ease under some gnarled willow among the rich red spires 
 of loosestrife, and within view of the gently rocking water- 
 lilies. Usually they fished for perch and pike. When 
 they went after the bream, they had to be at Bletsoe while 
 the dew was still heavy on the grass, and get their fishing 
 over, or the better part of it, by breakfast-time. Bletsoe 
 boasts a picturesque church and a ruined castle, but it 
 was the river rather than the antiquities that attracted 
 FitzGerald. 'The inn,' says he, 'is the cleanest, the 
 sweetest, the civillest, the quietest, the loveliest, and the 
 cheapest that ever was built or conducted. On one side 
 it has a garden, then the meadows through which winds 
 the Ouse : on the other, the public road, with its coaches 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 154 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 hurrying on to London ; its market people halting to 
 drink, its farmers, horsemen, and foot travellers. So, as 
 one's humour is, one can have whichever phase of life one 
 pleases : quietude or bustle, solitude or the busy hum of 
 men. One can sit in the principal room with a tankard 
 and a pipe, and see both these phases at once through the 
 windows that open upon either.'^ Browne's fondness for 
 rod, scarlet coat, and buckskins led FitzGerald to write — 
 
 ' Heaven would answer all your wishes, 
 Were it much as earth is here ; 
 Flowing rivers full of fishes, 
 
 And good hunting half the year.' 
 
 After tea at the Falcon and a song — frequently * Bobby 
 Shafto 's gone to Sea ' — they would walk leisurely home 
 through Milton Ernest, by the massive church tower of 
 Clapham, past ' The Angler's Rest' (less easy to get by), 
 and so, whistling towards Bedford, down the same hill that 
 R. L. Stevenson's St. Ives and Dudgeon danced so 
 merrily ; whilst the cry of the corncrake in the meadow 
 mingled with the peevish call of the plover circling over 
 the cornfield, and the westering sun in a sea of violet, 
 grey, and silver made spindle-legged silhouettes of them 
 on road and bank. ' Those Bedfordshire villages ! ' 
 They were FitzGerald's dear delight. Bletsoe, Sharn- 
 brook, Keysoe, Turvey, Goldington — the very thought 
 of them sent the blood singing through his veins. 
 
 During this visit to Bedford, FitzGerald presented to 
 
 Browne a copy of a work with whose contents he had 
 
 46 'Gode- been exceedingly struck, and which he had 
 
 fridus'and pondered deeply, namely Godefridiis — the 
 
 eysoe. ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^ Kenelm Henry Digby's - book 
 
 The Broad Stone of Honour — his reason for making the 
 
 1 Letters, vol. i. p. 74. Quoted by permission of Messrs. Macmillan. 
 * Kenelm Henry Digby, born iSoo, died 22nd March 1880.
 
 < 
 
 o 
 
 Q 
 
 3 
 5 
 
 o 
 
 o 
 
 
 is 
 
 I 

 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 157 
 
 gift being, as he afterwards said, because page 89 
 and the following pages seemed to delineate the character 
 of Browne.^ On the fly-leaf he wrote, ' W. Browne from 
 E. F. G., '*sed tu noli deficere : quod ille quaerit, tu 
 esto " — St. August.' Digby's book (the copy given to 
 Browne is in grey -coloured boards) is a 'philosophic 
 history of chivalry ' — ' a history of heroic times, arranged 
 chiefly with a view to convey lessons of surviving and 
 perpetual interest to the generous part of mankind.' Its 
 style probably influenced FitzGerald's prose more than 
 that of any other work. For example, the first section of 
 Godefridus and the last few paragraphs of Euphranor 
 might have been written by the same man ; and practi- 
 cally Euphranor is a blend of the substance of this book 
 and the personal traits of W. Kenworthy Browne. The 
 passages which in FitzGerald's opinion were applicable 
 to Browne are the following : ' Chivalry is only a name 
 for that general spirit or state of mind which disposes 
 men to heroic and generous actions, and keeps them 
 conversant with all that is beautiful and sublime in 
 the intellectual world. . . . Every boy and youth [and 
 FitzGerald maintained that Browne was always young] 
 is, in his mind and sentiments, a knight, and essentially 
 a son of chivalry. Nature is fine in him.' 'There is no 
 difference,' says the philosopher, 'between youthful age 
 and youthful character ; and what this is, cannot be better 
 evinced than in the very words of Aristotle : " The young 
 are ardent in desire, and what they do is from affection ; 
 they are tractable and delicate ; they earnestly desire and 
 are quickly appeased ; their wishes are intense, without 
 
 ^ It is curious to note that this copy of Godefridus contains besides a small 
 allegorical vignette on the title-page only one illustration — namely a picture of 
 two naked horsemen (Greek evidently), the front one of whom is turning round 
 and flourishing a whip. It was a similar action on the part of one of Browne's 
 friends that led to Browne's premature death. See chapter xiii.
 
 158 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 comprehending much ; . . . they are passionate and hasty, 
 and liable to be surprised by anger ; for, being ambitious 
 of honour, they cannot endure to be despised ; . . . they 
 love honour, but still more victory ; . . . they are sanguine 
 in hope, for, like persons who are drunk with wine, they 
 are inflamed by nature ; • . . they live by hope, for hope 
 is of the future, but memory of the past, and to youth the 
 future is everything, the past but little ; they hope all 
 things and remember nothing ; . . . they have lofty souls ; 
 . . . they live by affection rather than by reason ; . . . 
 they are warm friends and hearty companions ; . . . they 
 chiefly err in doing all things overmuch, for they keep 
 no medium ; . . . they are full of mercy, because they 
 regard all men as good, and more virtuous than they 
 are, for they measure others by their own innocence.'" 
 Indeed, the moral of the book is 'keep young.' The 
 whole of this passage of Aristotle, as quoted in Digby's 
 GodefriduSy is given in Euphrano?', which is simply and 
 solely a glorification of W. K. Browne, and a pressing 
 home to the youth of England of the lessons to be learned 
 from his breezy and strenuous life. FitzGerald's intense 
 admiration for Browne would b eJncregibl£.-tii-,ariyLone~who 
 was not minutely acquainted with the facts. To him 
 B rowlie"was at on ce_J[ onathan, G ama liel, A pollo^jhe 
 friend, the master, the god — there was scarcely a limit to 
 his devotion and admiration ; and literary history offers 
 no paraUpnri the rr>nji|rirhirp. 
 
 And how did Browne, * Phidippus ' ^ (for Phidippus is 
 Browne), 'my Master,' receive all this incense? Just as 
 one might expect that an honest, warm-hearted, practical 
 and sensible man would. He devotedly loved his friend, 
 and gave him such welcomes at Bedford as satisfied even 
 Edward FitzGerald ; attributed all the virtues that he was 
 
 ' In EuphranoTt
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 159 
 
 accredited with to a friend's partiality, and quietly assumed 
 that in every matter FitzGerald was a more competent 
 authority than himself. More than all, he received with- 
 out retort the unkind and acrimonious sayings which 
 FitzGerald sometimes inflicted upon him. No other man 
 would have uttered them with impunity. Of these dis- 
 plays of pique, peevishness, and temper FitzGerald never 
 failed to repent speedily, and with moist eyes. * I hate 
 myself for them,' he would say. 
 
 Sometimes the excursions of FitzGerald and Browne 
 extended to the 'uncouthly named town of Biggleswade,'^ 
 and to Keysoe, of which village FitzGerald's Bury and 
 Cambridge friend, the Rev. William Airy, brother of 
 the Astronomer- Royal, was vicar ; ^ and occasionally 
 they indulged in pistol practice, FitzGerald using oak- 
 trees as targets, and generally missing at ten yards. At 
 Keysoe he used to sing remarkable and old-fashioned 
 songs — picked up in the British Museum and elsewhere 
 — accompanying himself on the piano. One began — 
 
 ' Like Macedon's madman my cup 1 '11 enjoy ' ; 
 
 and another — 
 
 ' The stwuns, the stwuns,' 
 
 though what stones they were my informant, the Rev. 
 Basil Airy,2 son of FitzGerald's friend, cannot recollect. 
 *I remember,' continues Mr. Airy, 'his being at Keysoe 
 when there was a general Fast Day, and my childish 
 surprise at seeing him go off for a walk with a pipe in 
 his mouth while we were all starting for church.' On 
 the west front of Keysoe church is a very odd inscrip- 
 
 ^ FitzGerald. 
 
 * Presented in 1836. He was also Rector of Swynshed, four miles from 
 Keysoe, Rural Dean and Domestic Chaplain to the Duke of Manchester. 
 ^ Vicar of St. John's, Torquay.
 
 i6o LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 tion which FitzGerald often used to quote with unction. 
 It commemorates the preservation of the Hfe of WilHam 
 Dickens, who, on 17th April 17 18, 'when he was point- 
 ing the steepol,' fell 'from the rige of the middle window 
 in the spiar over the south-west pinackel,' and when he 
 was falling called out to his brother, ' Lord, Daniel, 
 wot 's the matter ! ' ^ The good man lived over forty 
 years after this accident. 
 
 Another of FitzGerald's haunts was Sharnbrook, one 
 of the visits to which is described so pleasantly in the 
 preface to Poloniits. 'I had started,' says he, 'one fine 
 October morning on a ramble through the villages that 
 lie beside the Ouse. In high health and cloudless spirits, 
 one regret perhaps hanging upon the horizon of the 
 heart, I walked through Sharnbrook up the hill, and 
 paused by the church on the summit to look about me. 
 The sun shone, the clouds flew, the yellow trees shook 
 in the wind, the river rippled in breadths of light and 
 dark ; rooks and daws wheeled and cawed aloft in the 
 changing spaces of blue above the spire ; the church- 
 yard all still in the sunshine below.' 
 
 Woburn Abbey — the Duke of Bedford's place — Fitz- 
 Gerald found little to his taste. He appreciated the 
 pictures, especially the Canalettos, but preferred an old 
 squire's gabled house as much more English and aristo- 
 cratic than the Duke's establishment. Luton Hoo, Lord 
 Bute's mansion, with its splendid library, grand hall 
 supported by Ionic columns, and chapel with Gothic 
 wainscotting and carved ceiling, pleased him better,^ 
 and he afterwards dreamt of the fine pictures there. 
 Indeed, he and Browne went picture-hunting in all direc- 
 
 ^ See Appendix. 
 
 2 Three years later, November 1843, Luton Hoo was destroyed by fire. The 
 chapel was utterly ruined, but the pictures and other valuables were saved.
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD i6i 
 
 tions, and if one made a present to the other it was 
 almost sure to be an oil painting. Much, however, as 
 he enjoyed these excursions in the sleepy villages by 
 the Ouse, FitzGerald * began to have dreadful suspicions ' 
 that this fruitless way of life was * not looked upon with 
 satisfaction by open eyes above,' though Keats's words 
 might then have given him some comfort — 
 
 ' He who saddens 
 At thought of idleness cannot be idle.' 
 
 Still it was evident that life ought not to be all leather 
 
 breeches and fishing-rod. 
 
 The happier he was at Bedford with Browne the more 
 
 unpleasant he found the parting, and perhaps he was 
 
 thinking of this when he copied into his „ .^t 
 
 ° '^ 47. At Lowe- 
 
 Museum Book, ' So good disport you have stoft with 
 
 made me, against my wille I take my leve.' '■°^"^- 
 At any rate, on this occasion he put off the evil day as 
 long as possible by taking his friend away with him to 
 Lowestoft. They amused themselves with boating, going 
 about with ' Dickymilk ' and FitzGerald's other sailor 
 friends, teaching ' Bletsoe ' ^ to fetch and carry, and shoot- 
 ing gulls. If they did little good, at any rate they did 
 no harm, and when their consciences pricked them they 
 found what comfort they could in Browne's dictum that 
 it is better to repent of what is undone than what is 
 done. FitzGerald's comment was : ' All this must have 
 an end ; and as is usual, my pleasure in his [Browne's] 
 stay is proportionately darkened by the anticipation of 
 his going, . . . Well, Carlyle told us that we are not 
 to expect to be happy.' After Bedford, Woodbridge, 
 where there * was no river Ouse and no jolly boy to 
 
 ^ This dog, a big black retriever, was a present from Browne to FitzGerald. 
 FitzGerald named it after the Bedfordshire village of Bletsoe.
 
 i62 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 whistle the time away with,' seemed painfully dull. In 
 writing to Pollock of the little disasters and miseries 
 under which he laboured in Suffolk, he says, ' This 
 all comes of having no occupation or sticking-point.' 
 But life through he bemoaned his lack of enforced 
 occupation, and repeatedly declared that no one who is 
 not employed can be really happy. 
 
 About this time FitzGerald met Frederick Denison 
 Maurice, whom he heard preach. 'Maurice,' observes 
 FitzGerald to Allen, ' seems to say in his demeanour, 
 "You may trample on my body, I lay it on the road for 
 you to walk over." ' 
 
 The agent of the Boulge Hall estate and principal 
 tenant was Mr. Job Smith of * Hall Farm,' on whom 
 FitzGerald used often to call, while the farmer's little son 
 Alfred would waddle up and play with 'Bletsoe.' Fitz- 
 Gerald took to the boy as he grew older and was very 
 kind to him, often making him presents — sometimes, 
 however, creating embarrassment as well as gratitude, as, 
 for example, when he once gave him half a crown to buy 
 so cheap a toy as a ball. 
 
 In the autumn of 1838 or earlier FitzGerald made the 
 acquaintance of Samuel Lawrence the portrait-painter, 
 g s mu I who was subsequently indebted to him for 
 Lawrence and several commissions, one of the first being 
 a portrait of Browne. He talks to Lawrence 
 about going to Italy, but the proposed visit never came 
 off, for in his heart of hearts he infinitely preferred Suffolk 
 turnips to Campania lemons, and Naseby to Naples. He 
 still applied himself to drawing and painting, and got 
 many hints on collecting, and some on technique from his 
 new friend, whom he describes as ' a dear little fellow — 
 a gentleman — made of nature's very finest clay — the most 
 obstinate little man — incorrigible, who wearies out those
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 163 
 
 who wish most to serve and employ him, and so spoils 
 his own fortune.' Spedding spoke of Lawrence as a 
 portrait-painter of real genius and worthy of all men's 
 love. * His advantages of education were such as it 
 pleased God (who was never particular about giving His 
 favourite children a good education) to send him.' 
 
 In April 1839 FitzGerald is again at Geldestone, and he 
 writes to tell John Allen, who is living in London (Coram 
 Street), how he had spent one very happy day. All the 
 morning he had been lying full length on a garden bench 
 in the sun reading about Nero, in Tacitus. * A funny 
 mixture all this : Nero, and the delicacy of Spring : all 
 very human, however. Then at half-past one lunch on 
 Cambridge cream cheese ; then a ride over hill and dale ; 
 then spudding up some weeds from the grass ; and then 
 coming in, I sit down to write to you, my sister winding 
 red worsted from the back of a chair, and the most 
 delightful little girl in the world chattering incessantly. 
 So runs the world away. You think I live in Epicurean 
 ease ; but this happens to be a jolly day : one isn't always 
 well or tolerably good, the weather is not always clear, 
 nor nightingales singing, nor Tacitus full of pleasant 
 atrocity.'^ 'Give my love to Thackeray,' he goes on, 
 'from your upper window across the street.' 
 
 As we have seen, FitzGerald had for some time been in 
 love with Miss Caroline Crabbe,- eldest daughter of his 
 friend, and they were very often in each other's ^ _ 
 
 ' -^ ■' 49. In Love 
 
 company. The lady, however, after a time with Miss 
 
 came to the conclusion that marriage with crabbe! 
 
 FitzGerald would not be prudent. What 'Bredfieid 
 
 her actual reason was we do not know. A 
 
 profoundly pious girl, it is possible that FitzGerald's 
 
 ' Letters, vol. i. p. 60. Quoted by permission of Messrs, Macmillan. 
 2 Tliese statements, whichi are all new, are founded on most trustworthy 
 authority.
 
 i64 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 agnosticism may have troubled her ; but the reason given, 
 I am told, was that as she was the eldest of a large family, 
 it would not be right for her to leave home. FitzGerald 
 felt the refusal very keenly, though doubtless it was 
 worded in the kindest possible way, and it was whilst 
 suffering under this blow that he wrote those charming 
 and realistic though mournful lines entitled * Bredfield 
 Hall.' 
 
 He refers to the well-timbered lawn and gardens, the 
 distant sea and the solemn surrounding woods, and recalls 
 the bygone owners and guests — the knight in ruff and 
 doublet, and the cavalier — 
 
 ' Languid beauties limn'd by Lely, 
 
 FuU-wigg'd Justice of Queen Anne, 
 Tory squires that tippled freely, 
 And the modern gentleman.' 
 
 Here they gathered round its hospitable fires — 
 
 'Till the bell that not in vain 
 
 Had summoned them to weekly prayer, 
 Called them one by one again 
 To the church and left them there.' 
 
 Almost every stanza contains beauties and felicities of 
 expression. The 'gilded vanes still veering,' the crocus 
 breaking the mould, and the coat of paint and plaster 
 hiding the wrinkles of decay, give us almost as vivid a 
 picture of the old mansion and its surroundings as was 
 possessed by the writer, whose youth was * buried there ' 
 — a reference to his disappointment in love. Although 
 Miss Crabbe could not marry FitzGerald, she continued 
 to be his friend, and, as will be seen, was at her brother's 
 house when FitzGerald died there. 
 
 John Allen was this year made Inspector of Schools, 
 the commission being a roving one for the whole of 
 England and Wales.
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 165 
 
 In October 1839 FitzGerald and Browne took a trip 
 to Ireland, and visited Dublin. Dublin was attractive 
 enough even in those days, with its quayed 
 
 .^ , ., • , J 1 so. In Ireland 
 
 river, its parks, its circular road, and memo- "^^^^ -^ ^ 
 ries of Goldsmith, Swift, and Stella.^ The Browne, 
 
 r-i 11- IT -iTTi October 1839. 
 
 friends made their stay at the Imperial Hotel, 
 and often recalled the hours spent together there. From 
 Dublin they go by coach and jaunting-car to Halvers- 
 town, Kilcullen, ' a little town that tumbles down a hill 
 and struggles up another,' in Kildare. There they are 
 the guests of Mr. Peter Purcell, FitzGerald's uncle, sub- 
 sequently beloved of Thackeray, who said of the Purcell 
 family, ' Such people are not to be met with more than 
 a few times in a man's life — nothing but laughter and 
 sunshine from morning till night.' ^ While they are 
 amusing themselves among the round towers, ancient 
 crosses, the ' clane-skinned girls ' and ' dacent boys ' of 
 Mr. Purcell's farm (he employed 110 persons), Browne 
 is suddenly summoned back to Bedford, but FitzGerald 
 continues his stay, spending his time reading Homer's 
 Iliad and De Ouincey's paper on Southey and others 
 in Tail's Magazine. He hears of the publication of 
 Carlyle's Essays, ^ and he hopes, after returning to 
 England, to read them. He dearly loved Ireland, with 
 its suggestion of Spain, and declared prettily that the airs 
 of Moore's Irish Ballads are the spirits of its beautiful 
 women made into music. 
 
 After observing that when at Geldestone he lived 
 quietly, FitzGerald says : ' People affect to talk of this 
 life as very beautiful and philosophical, but I don't : 
 
 ^ There is a monument to Swift and Stella in St. Patrick's Cathedral, 
 
 2 Irish Sketch- Book, chap. ii. (Biog. Ed., vol. v. p. 292), where there is an 
 
 amusing description of Mr. Purceli's home and family. 
 
 ^ Critical and Miscellaneous Essays, collected and republished (4 vols.) 
 
 1839.
 
 i66 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 men ought to have an ambition to stir and travel.'^ 
 Elsewhere he calls his besetting indolence the salient 
 feature about him, and confesses that he 
 stone, j! H.' himself and nobody else is blamable for his 
 Newman, inaction and its evil consequences. ' But I 
 
 April 1840. , J , J 1 ,. -^ J J- 
 
 have made my bed and must lie on it, and die 
 on it.'- He does not excuse himself even on the ground 
 that indolence is the family complaint ; and he speaks of 
 his sister Andalusia's desire to exert herself as ' the 
 highest wish a FitzGerald can form.' However, he 
 finds comfort in Herodotus — tremendously interesting if 
 'slippery and mendacious,' and Newman's Sermons ; and 
 it is with a passage from Newman that he closes one of 
 his commonplace books : ' One secret act of self-denial, 
 one sacrifice of inclination to duty, is worth all the mere 
 good thoughts, warm feelings, passionate prayers in which 
 idle people indulge themselves ' — a passage which, from 
 the fact that the place and the exact time of entering it 
 (Geldestone, April 26, 1840 ; Sunday evening, half-past 
 nine o'clock) are recorded, evidently entered deeply into 
 FitzGerald's soul. This passage is also quoted in 
 Polonius. 
 
 At the beginning of June, FitzGerald is at Leamington, 
 where he chances on Alfred Tennyson. They ^o excur- 
 sions together, visiting Kenilworth Castle (Sir Walter 
 Scott was a never-failing loadstone) and Stratford-on-Avon, 
 where FitzGerald is more moved by the old footpath 
 leading to Shottery — so often trodden by Shakespeare — 
 than by the house, or even Shakespeare's tomb. 
 
 The earlier portion of the nineteenth century was the 
 golden age of 'Annuals,' which were generally collec- 
 tions of verse by a number of hands, and were issued 
 both by London and country booksellers. Thus we 
 
 ^ Letters (Macmillan). * Unpublished letter.
 
 CHIEFLY BEDFORD 167 
 
 hear of the Literary Souvenir^ edited by Alaric A. Watts ; 
 Raiii's Pocket-Book, and many others. A pubHcation 
 of this order was the Sudbury Pocket-Book, ^,2. 'Chrono- 
 first issued by George W. Fulcher^ in 1825, moros.' 
 Fulcher himself, Bernard Barton, and other Suffolk 
 men contributing. A selection from these Pocket-Books 
 was published in 1841 under the name of Fulcher' s 
 Ladies' Memorandum - Book and Poetical Miscellany, 
 The contributions included an unsigned poem called 
 ' Chronomoros,' by FitzGerald, but in which number 
 of the Pocket-Book it appeared we have not been able 
 to discover. Its subject, the evanescence of human life, 
 was one that constantly haunted FitzGerald's mind, and 
 had Jhe eff ^ct-nat of ■a^ mulating^ Jiim to greater activity, 
 but of bei2jLimbing_Jiim and jnaking^ him ask himself 
 
 wheth er there wa s rea ll y anj y_juse^in doing anything. 
 
 His Jjff i'^ ^ ^nrrgssiruw^f^^ eadi^-strfted^ere^ half- 
 
 utter ed ; fox the _u selessness even of sighingjsIaiLevrdent 
 
 to hini_.as._thereason for it. He was more apt to cry 
 
 Eheu fugaces than Carpe diem. The poem is prefaced 
 
 by a passage from his favourite Owen Feltham : ' In all 
 
 the actions that a man performs, some part of his life 
 
 passeth. . . . Nay, though we do nothing. Time keeps 
 
 his constant pace — whether we play or labour, or sleep 
 
 or dance, or study, the sun posteth, and the sand runnes.' 
 
 The writer is represented as making various attempts 
 
 to prevent Time from flying, and at last smashes his 
 
 hour-glass, breaks his watch, and hides his sundial under 
 
 a cloak — 
 
 '"Now," I shouted aloud, "Time is done," 
 When suddenly down went the sun ; 
 And I found to my cost and my pain, 
 I might buy a new hour-glass again ! ' 
 
 ^ George W. Fulcher (1795-1855)- He wrote some touching lines entitled 
 'The Dying Child,' 'The Village Paupers,' and commenced a Life of Gains- 
 borough which was completed by his son E. S. Fulcher.
 
 i68 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Nay, whatever we do, time will go on, and all are 
 treated alike — 
 
 'The king in a carriage may ride, 
 And the beggar may crawl at his side ; 
 But, in the general race, 
 They are travelling all the same pace.' 
 
 Among the contributors to this volume besides Fitz- 
 Gerald were Mrs. Fulcher, whose poems Mrs. Edward 
 FitzGerald used to speak of as 'very beautiful,' Bernard 
 Barton and Miss Elizabeth Charlesworth (subsequently 
 Mrs. Edward Cowell, FitzGerald's correspondent and 
 friend), who signs herself author of Historical Reveries.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 
 JULY 184I — JULY 1844 
 
 FitzGerald now purchases more pictures and concocts 
 tar-water — to be tried first on the vain and ruddy Mrs. Faire. 
 He writes to his old Cambridge acquaintance 
 
 _,, , , 1 n/r r S3' ^° Ireland 
 
 W . H. Thompson (subsequently Master or again, July 
 
 Trinity), sending- remembrances to Blakesley, ^^^^- ^^^ 
 
 ■'^' *= -" Edgeworths. 
 
 Douglas Heath, and such other potentates 
 whom he knew before they ' assumed the purple ' — a 
 phrase stamped on his mind by his recent study of 
 Gibbon. June saw him in Ireland again, staying first 
 with his uncle, Mr. Peter Purcell of Halverstown, Kil- 
 cullen — riding in stage-coach and jaunting-car ; and 
 afterwards at Edgeworthstown, where he is the guest of 
 the 'great Maria,' who lives in a country mansion 
 approached by an avenue of venerable trees. Other 
 members of the household are her half-brother Lovell 
 and Mrs. Edgeworth, her father's widow, mother of Fitz- 
 Gerald's friend Frank. Maria is seventy-two, the widow 
 seventy-four. The chief room is the library, with its 
 oblong table at one particular corner of which the aged 
 authoress sits and writes undisturbed by the conversation, 
 in which, looking up, she now and again joins. Jars of 
 Nankin china and ' shells from ocean knows where are 
 on the mantelpiece.' She is a lively and dapper little 
 
 169
 
 I70 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 body, with thin, pale, and irregular features, and 'grey 
 hair which shows, through her cap behind, but a dark 
 frisette ' — a sort of * whippity stourie ' or fairy, ' who 
 comes flying through the window to work marvels'^ — 
 dehghting to talk about Sir Walter Scott, whom she 
 adores, and whose pen lies always before her. She is 
 now owner of Edgeworthstown, bought (with a fortune 
 won by literature) of Lovell, who, however, still remains 
 the apparent owner, just as Mrs. Edgeworth is still 
 nominal mistress of the house. She gives FitzGerald— 
 'and all her thoughts were intent upon making her 
 friends happy '—a copy of her ' Frank ' 2 in German and 
 English. Though the Lady Bountiful of the neighbour- 
 hood, she meets with little sympathy from priest or 
 peasant — ' no bows, no touching of hats, no pleasant 
 looks.' She sells a legacy of diamonds to build a 
 market-house in the village, but she might have kept 
 her diamonds for all the thanks she got. The people 
 had no love for Protestant landholders. 
 
 In September (1841) FitzGerald is at Naseby again, 
 
 and, writing to F. Tennyson in Italy, facetiously addresses 
 
 his letter from 'No. o Strada del Obelisco,' 
 
 54. strada del . „ . , • . ^ , 
 
 ObeUsco. A "1 allusion to the situation of the house of 
 Dkkeill!^^ Mr. Watchams (formerly his mother's coach- 
 man) where he was lodging. Here he reads 
 Congreve, Vanbrugh, and Farquhar, flying when tired 
 to an old tub of a piano, the blacksmith's forge, or to 
 tobacco at the FitzGerald Arms, or with a tenant of his 
 father's named Love. Later he is in London, where he 
 meets Allen, Thackeray, Spedding, and Tennyson. Of 
 Tennyson, who is 'finer in appearance than ever,' Mrs. 
 Carlyle leaves us a vivid picture at this time. 'A tall 
 
 ^ Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 ^ He many years after presented it to Mr. Frederick Spalding.
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 171 
 
 man leaning to a wall, with his head touching the ceiling 
 like a caryatid.' 'You ought to be a dragoon,' cries 
 FitzGerald to him, ' or in some active employment that 
 would keep your soul stirring instead of revolving in its 
 own idleness and tobacco smoke.' ^ The chief meeting- 
 place of this junto was now Spedding's room in 
 Lincoln's Inn Fields, where they would sit up till mid- 
 night smoking, discussing Lord Bacon with Spedding, 
 or listening to Tennyson's poems read from a foolscap 
 folio parchment-bound book. As the poems were written 
 towards one side of the paper, they used the unoccupied 
 edges as pipelights ; and a few of these leaves when they 
 returned with the proofs from the printers were taken 
 possession of by FitzGerald, who afterwards presented 
 them to the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge. In 
 October (1841) John Allen lost his brother Bird, com- 
 mander of H.M.S. Soudan^ in the poetical and heroic 
 Niger expedition. For several years Bird had been 
 engaged to FitzGerald's sister Andalusia.^ About this 
 time W. Kenworthy Browne fell in love with Miss 
 Elizabeth Elliott, the beautiful sixteen year old daughter 
 of Mr. Robert Elliott of Goldington Hall, near Bedford. 
 Browne's acquaintance with her was probably made 
 through her brother Robert, a comrade of his in the 
 hunting-field ; by and and by they became engaged. 
 
 To this date I assign a very interesting unpublished 
 letter of FitzGerald's, which refers to a drive with Dickens 
 — the only occasion, apparently, on which FitzGerald and 
 Dickens ever met. It is written to Browne, and com- 
 mences, ' Dear Stubby.' After remarks that need not 
 be quoted, it proceeds: 'Alfred [Tennyson] is just left 
 us in a cab : he, like me, has had and has yet the damned 
 influenza. To-night I go with my mamma to the Opera. 
 
 ■■ Life of Lord Tennyson. '^ Afterwards Mrs. De Soyres. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 172 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 We get on very well together, by help of meeting very 
 little. Lusia had her eyelid cut by Guthrie. As to 
 your picture, I will not send it till Lawrence has seen if 
 something cannot be done to it. As I have such 
 abundance of pictures I shall not be solicitous to keep 
 it for myself, much as I like it, that is, I will leave it 
 quite to your papa's will without saying a word. I have 
 lately had a very charming head by Reynolds sent up 
 from the country. You would like it much. Give me 
 some account of the house you spoke of at Bedford.' 
 (FitzGerald contemplated settling at Bedford.) ' Is there 
 any sitting-room looking out to the back? I went on 
 Thursday with Alfred and Thackeray to drive with Boz. 
 He is like Elliott,^ only rather on a smaller scale — un- 
 affected and hospitable. You never would remark him 
 for appearance. A certain acute cut of the upper eyelid 
 is all I can find to denote his powers, but you would 
 doubtless see much more than I do.' 
 
 It was this year (1841) that FitzGerald's friend Major 
 Moor published his curious work An Account of the 
 Mysterious Ringing of Bells at Great Beatings, Suffolk, 
 in 1834. As there are persons still living who know 
 more about the occurrence than they care to tell, we need 
 not inquire whether it was due to the agency of spirits. 
 Though neighbours smiled at what they regarded as 
 one of his many crotchets, the Major, to his dying 
 day, maintained that his ' bells were rung by no human 
 hand.' 
 
 Some of FitzGerald's best letters are written to Frederick 
 Tennyson (eldest brother of Alfred), ' a noble man in all 
 respects,' though haughty and passionate, who now 
 lived in Italy, wrote monotonous poetry, chiefly sonnets, 
 dwelt in a world of spirits — Swedenborg's world — and 
 
 ^ Robert Elliott, brother of the young lady who became Browne's wife.
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 173 
 
 turned earth into heaven by sitting in his spacious hall 
 
 in the midst of forty fiddlers. Another correspondent 
 
 was Pierce Morton — scholar, artist, journalist, „, c- ^ • 1 
 
 ' 'J ' 55- Frederick 
 
 etc. — 'that mad man of genius Morton' — Tennyson; 
 who was chronically in need of ten pounds — ton^'^and °'^' 
 and travelled much, but delighted chiefly in Cariyie's ' Hero- 
 Rome, in the soil of which he found some- 
 thing glutinous. FitzGerald, who liked to hear about 
 foreign places, declared that he would himself travel if 
 he had the eyes of Frederick and Morton. 'The eye,' 
 he says, quoting Goethe, ' can but see what it brings 
 with it the power of seeing.' So he sat at home 
 under the cinereous skies of Suffolk, dreaming about 
 the blue of Tuscany. Of Morton's letters he was 
 a particular admirer, and copied a number of extracts 
 from them into a commonplace book. In return he 
 had nothing new to tell his distant friends except that 
 Carlyle had published 'a raving book about heroes.' 
 But despite his condemnation of Cariyie's book at the 
 first reading, its influence on him was extraordinary. 
 Naturally a hero-worshipper, he puts his friends — and 
 especially W. K. Browne — on higher pedestals than 
 ever ; and this book was certainly in a considerable 
 degree responsible for the apotheosis of ' Posh,' with 
 which we shall deal in subsequent chapters. He quotes 
 Carlyle in condonation of Posh's faults.^ He calls 
 Boulge 'Malebolge,' after the ' Malebolge Pool,' with 
 its gloomy circles that Carlyle, handling Dante, talks 
 so much about. Passage after passage appeals to him ; 
 especially the declaration that ' The poet who could 
 merely sit on a chair and compose stanzas, would never 
 make a stanza worth much,' and the reference to the 
 
 ^ 'David, the Hebrew king, had fallen into sins enough. ... Is this your 
 man according to God's heart?' — Hero- Worship, Lecture li.
 
 174 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 dawning on Dante that he would some day die/ which 
 is echoed in the preface to Polonius. In the body of 
 Poloniiis he quotes in full the fine passage in Lecture ii. 
 answering the question, 'What is a man's religion?' 
 together with several other passages. Thus FitzGerald 
 was evidently a very great admirer of a work which he 
 is usually credited with having regarded slightingly. 
 Let us note, however, that he quotes with approval in 
 this same Polonius Carlyle's saying : * The commonest 
 quality in a true work of art, if its excellence have any 
 depth and compass, is that at first sight it occasions a 
 certain disappointment.' 
 
 In December 1841 FitzGerald is at Brighton, and in 
 January at Geldestone again, where he gets an invita- 
 56. In London, tion to Iccturc at the Ipswich Mechanics' 
 Spring: 1842. Institution, on 'any subject except contro- 
 versial divinity and party politics ' — a phrase which for 
 days he rolled round his tongue. He pretended that 
 Donne, who had not been asked, was mad with envy ; 
 and though he hoped to see Barton in February, he 
 adds, ' You need not, however, expect that I can return 
 to such familiar intercourse as once (in former days) 
 passed between us. New honours in society have 
 devolved upon me the necessity of a more dignified 
 deportment.'^ From January to April 1842 he was in 
 London, visiting theatres and picture-dealers' shops, but 
 feeling all the time that his life was unsatisfactory. He 
 describes himself as living ' in a very seedy way, reading 
 occasionally in books which every one else has gone 
 through at school,' reading, moreover, 'just in the 
 same way as ladies work: to pass the time away.' He 
 often sees Thackeray, who has just finished his Irish 
 Sketch-Book, and is trying to get appointed editor of 
 
 1 Hero- Worships Lecture iii. - Letters,
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 175 
 
 * a new foreign review ' projected by Chapman and Hall. 
 Thackeray thinks he could suit them, unless they want 
 'a great man like Mr. Carlyle.' At any rate, he knows 
 two languages, and is not given to 'deep philosophising' 
 — that unfortunate faculty which ruined the journalistic 
 career of J. M. Kemble.^ Thackeray, for his part, de- 
 lighted to be with FitzGerald, but observed, ' I am afraid 
 his society makes me idle ; we sit and talk too much 
 about books and pictures, and smoke too many cigars.' 
 
 Later, FitzGerald ruralises first at Geldestone, where 
 he gets up at five in the morning to read Ecclesiasticus, 
 
 and afterwards at Bedford, where he names „ a^ t, ^ 
 
 ' 57- At Bed- 
 
 Browne's pictures, writing down ' awful ford, Yardiey 
 
 calumnies about Cuyp and others.' More- and^Cafue 
 over, they named the subjects rashly as well Ashby, 
 
 . . August 1842. 
 
 as the artists — calling one ' General Wolfe ' 
 for no reason except that he wore a scarlet coat and 
 looked brave. Then there was ' a little Crome cottage ' 
 bought by FitzGerald at Norwich, and a hawking pic- 
 ture, the finest FitzGerald ever got, both apparently 
 presents to Browne.^ 
 
 From Bedford he makes trips with Browne and others 
 to Keysoe, their favourite Bletsoe, and through Turvey 
 and Lavendon to Yardiey Hastings, in order to see the 
 Marquis of Northampton's seat,^ with its Inigo Jones 
 architecture, Italian vistas, and associations with Samuel 
 Johnson, who at Easton Maudit, close by, visited his 
 friend Dr. Percy. FitzGerald found fault with the 
 pictures, and took no note of the quaint and wonderful 
 Dutch tapestry, but admired the fabric of the house, 
 with the parapet balustrade round the roof carved into 
 the letters ' nisi dominus custodiat domum, frustra 
 
 ^ Letter of Thackeray, loth March 1842. 
 
 - From an unpublished letter (undated). ^ Castle Ashby.
 
 176 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 viGiLAT QUI CUSTODIT EAM.' 'This,' he observes, 'is 
 not amiss to decipher as you come up the long avenue 
 some summer or autumn day, and to moralise upon 
 afterwards at the little "Rose and Crown" at Yardley, 
 if such good home-brewed be there as used to be before 
 I knew I was to die.'^ Naturally he did not leave 
 Yardley without visiting the famous Yardley Chase ; 
 and in his commonplace book, ' Half-Hours with the 
 Worst Authors,'" he devotes a large space to an abridg- 
 ment from Grantley Berkeley, entitled ' The View Hulloa 
 of Yardley Chase,' an anecdote of deception practised 
 on the writer by *a fine young farmer.' Back again 
 in Bedford, more journeys were made to the Bletsoe 
 'Falcon,' this time in company with Herr Teufelsdrockh 
 — for there is always a copy of Sartor Resartus sticking 
 out of FitzGerald's pocket. 
 
 The study of Sartor Resartus not unnaturally led to a 
 desire to meet the author — a desire that was realised on 
 S8. Cariyiein the 15th of September 1842, when FitzGerald 
 a'Brangie- called upon Carlyle — 'Gurlyle,' according to 
 Naseby Thackeray — with Lawrence the artist. Car- 
 
 Excavations, lyle, who was engaged upon his Letters of 
 Cromwell, had a little before, in company with Dr. 
 Arnold, made a journey to Naseby with a view to going 
 over the battlefield. Knowing the place well, as was 
 natural, seeing that most of it belonged to his father, 
 FitzGerald discovered that, misled by Naseby's lying 
 bully, the obelisk, Carlyle and Dr. Arnold had seen 
 nothing, having walked over what was not the field of 
 battle at all — that, in short, to use an expression common 
 enough at Naseby, Carlyle was in a ' branglemess.' 
 
 ^ Euphra7ior. Cf. Carlyle's Hero- Worship, Lecture III., which FitzGerald 
 had just been reading. ' One day, it had risen sternly benign on the scathed 
 heart of Dante, that he . . . would full surely die,' etc. 
 
 '^ Afterwards altered to ' Half-Hours with Obscure Authors.'
 
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 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 179 
 
 Though very reluctant to admit that they had been 
 deceived, Carlyle had no objection to further evidence ; 
 consequently FitzGerald, who was just then going to 
 Naseby, resolved to settle the matter once and for all. 
 Before he could start, however, there came a letter from 
 Carlyle asking a number of questions, and concluding 
 with : ' On the whole, my dear sir, here seems to be 
 work enough for you ! But, after all, is it not worth your 
 while on other accounts? Were it not a most legitimate 
 task for the proprietor of Naseby, a man of scholarship, 
 intelligence, and leisure, to make himself completely 
 acquainted with the true state of all details connected 
 with Naseby battle and its localities? Few spots of 
 ground in all the world are memorabler to an English- 
 man. We could still very well stand a good little book 
 on Naseby ! Verhum sapienti! ' 
 
 Before going further, it will be necessary, if we are to 
 understand the communications between Carlyle and 
 FitzGerald, to give a very brief account of what really 
 happened on that famous 14th of June 1645. Fairfax, 
 who had marched out of Buckinghamshire, was joined at 
 Flore, in Northamptonshire, by Cromwell, who had come 
 from the eastern counties on 12th June ; and on the 13th 
 they reached Naseby and took possession of Mill Hill, 
 half a mile north of Naseby. The king's army was on 
 Dust Hill, a rising parallel to Mill Hill, about a mile 
 further north, and divided from it by a plain — Broad 
 Moor. The battle began at ten on the morning of the 
 14th. Prince Rupert, who led the right wing of the 
 king's army, charged across Broad Moor and up Rutput 
 and Fenny Hills, fired upon, as he passed, by Colonel 
 Okey and his dragoons hidden in Lantford Hedges, a 
 thicket which ran northward at right angles to these 
 hills. He reached the Parliament's left wing under Ireton
 
 i8o LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 and Skippon, and put them to flight. Ireton, whose 
 horse was shot under him, and who was wounded in the 
 thigh and in the face, was taken prisoner, and the 
 CavaHers then made for the Parliament's baggage, which 
 was under the protection of firelocks close to the village. 
 In the meantime the Parliament's right wing under 
 Cromwell had charged down Mill Hill on to the king's 
 left under Sir Marmaduke Langdale, who fled through 
 the furze in the direction of Dust Hill and Longhold 
 Spinnies. The Parliament's centre, under Fairfax, which 
 was opposed by the king in person, now wavered and 
 * mostly all fled.' The officers, however, snatched the 
 colours and fell into the reserves with them. The 
 reserves rushed on, and others, encouraged by Crom- 
 well's success on the right, rallying to them, they 
 attacked the Cavaliers vigorously, and drove them pell- 
 mell down the hill. At Dust Hill the king made a final 
 attempt to rally his flying forces, but in vain, and 
 they fled in panic towards Harborough. Not until he 
 had reached the baggage did Rupert discover that the 
 rest of the king's army was being repulsed. He then 
 hastened to render help, but too late. The battle was 
 irretrievably lost. The number of slain is unknown, but 
 five thousand were taken prisoners. When the battle 
 was found to be going against the king, Ireton offered 
 his keeper pardon in return for freedom, and so got 
 released. 
 
 On arriving at Naseby, FitzGerald had spade and 
 mattock taken to a spot some considerable distance from, 
 the 'Blockhead Obelisk,' a spot on a hill 'pitted with 
 hollows and overgrown with rank vegetation,' where, 
 according to the blacksmith, the principal local autho- 
 rity, many of the slain lay. On opening one of the 
 hollows this declaration was proved true, for there lay
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS i8i 
 
 the remains of skeletons packed closely together. Car- 
 lyle now plies FitzGerald with questions. He wants to 
 know whether there was a windmill at Naseby (yes, on 
 Mill Hill). Are there any traces of such names as these : 
 Lantford Hedges, where Okey's dragoons hid ; Rutput 
 Hill, Lean Leaf Hill? What steeples, etc., can be descried 
 from Mill Hill ? and so on — just the questions to be asked 
 by a man desirous of writing a vivid account of the event. 
 Replies to the best of his ability being sent by FitzGerald, 
 Carlyle again writes urging a continuance of the investi- 
 gations, and observing, ' It is long since I read a letter 
 so interesting as yours of yesterday. Clearly enough 
 you are upon the very battleground ; and I, it is also 
 clear, have only looked up towards it from the slope of 
 Mill Hill.' In the intervals of excavating, FitzGerald read 
 Virgil's Georgics, and felt that they attuned perfectly with 
 his bucolic surroundings. He sits at breakfast at Mr. 
 Watchams', and looking out of window sees the old 
 stump of a cross grown round with long grass, great 
 high hedges ramped over by clematis and briony, and 
 labourers taking their horses to plough — up the long road 
 that leads past the obelisk ; then turning to his book he 
 reads the passage in which the swains are bidden to 
 work their steers and sow barley in the fields, ' Libra die 
 somnique,^ ^ etc. Next day he goes out with two farmers 
 and the venerable vicar, the Rev. William Marshall, who 
 was old enough to have spoken to the sons of the men 
 who took part in the fight. A great trench was dug, with 
 the result of more skeletons — most of them naturally 
 incomplete — and a large number of sound teeth, a few of 
 which were afterwards sent to Carlyle. FitzGerald's idea 
 of opening another grave was apparently not put into 
 execution. > He quite satisfied Carlyle, however, but con- 
 
 ^ Georg. i. 208-211.
 
 i82 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 fessed that all this digging up of dead Cavaliers and 
 Roundheads was little to his taste ; although it certainly 
 gave him satisfaction to feel that he had been able to 
 discover where the thickest of the fight had taken place. 
 Unfortunately the Cromwell was not being constructed in 
 the same way as the French Revolution ; and Carlyle, 
 instead of giving a vivid description of the battle, for 
 which he had all the materials, contented himself with a 
 short pasticcio of it, which he put, not in the body of the 
 book, but in the appendix of the third volume.^ 
 
 Carlyle wished to erect over the principal grave a block 
 of Portland stone, and suggested for inscription : * Here, 
 as proved by strict and not too impious examination, lie 
 the slain of the Battle of Naseby ' — a project that was 
 talked about for thirty years, but owing to various diffi- 
 culties never put into execution. FitzGerald often calls 
 at 24 Cheyne Row to see Carlyle about this Naseby affair, 
 or about nothing in particular, and he and Carlyle, in 
 dressing-gown and straw hat, each with half a yard of 
 pipe, stroll by the hour up and down the flagged court 
 and 'poor sooty patch of garden,' and under the 'old 
 scrag of a cherry-tree.' 
 
 In July 1843 FitzGerald paid a third visit to Ireland, 
 reaching Dublin on July nth, to find the people going 
 59, In Ireland about in their cars or standing idle just as 
 again. ever. At his hotel occurred an odd and 
 
 inconvenient incident. It was a hot day, and he ordered 
 a tepid bath. By and by he went to the bathroom, where 
 the attendant, instead of leaving him to lock the door in- 
 side, by mistake locked him in ; and, to crown the trouble, 
 the water was scalding hot. How long FitzGerald was 
 left in this predicament history does not record, but it is 
 relieving to read of his setting out next day for his Uncle 
 
 ^ Oliver CromwcWs Letters and Speeches, vol. iii. p. 344. Ashburton Edition.
 
 NASEBY EXCAVATIONS 183 
 
 Peter's at Halverstown, Kilcullen. For his cousins 
 Margaret, Honoria, and Mary Frances, who were amus- 
 ing themselves with private theatricals, he wrote a pro- 
 logue to one of Calderon's plays. He passed most of 
 his time, however, at Ballysax, close to the Curragh 
 Camp, and Kildare, ' one of the wretchedest wild villages ' 
 that Carlyle, who visited it a little later, ' ever saw, full of 
 ragged beggars, and altogether like a village in Dahomey.' 
 We may judge that FitzGerald visited the cathedral, and 
 the ruins of Grey Abbey, the burial-place of the ancient 
 FitzGeralds, and was shown the site of the nunnery of 
 St. Bridget, famous for its inextinguishable fire. Then 
 followed another visit to Edgeworthstown. Frank Edge- 
 worth, having given up his unprofitable school, if indeed 
 he ever had any pupils, at Eltham, had come back to 
 Ireland to take charge of his sister's estate, and ' be a 
 good country gentleman ' — 'to Mrs. Edgeworth's and all 
 our inexpressible comfort and support,' adds 'the great 
 Maria,' 'also for the good of the country as a resident 
 landlord and magistrate much needed.' So Frank at 
 last found his niche in the world and could, when not 
 sitting on the bench, receiving rents, or going into 
 accounts, bury himself in Kant, Spinoza, and ' deep 
 philosophising ' in general. FitzGerald thinks Miss Edge- 
 worth is wearing away ; still she has six more years to 
 live. He sets sail from Dublin on September ist, bear- 
 ing with him ' the heartfelt regrets of all the people of 
 Ireland.' 
 
 Back again in Boulge he walks out with ' Bletsoe ' ; 
 visits Crabbe ; takes tea with Barton ; strolls over to 
 Hasketon to taste some of Squire Jenny's fresh air ; goes 
 on Sunday to church, where the parson and the clerk — 
 among the fungi and the mouse-bitten curtains — get 
 ' through the service sea-saw, like two men in a saw-
 
 i84 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 pit'; papers his rooms a 'still green,' so as to agree 
 with his ' Venetian pictures ' ; places his chair against the 
 window, hangs his legs out over the window-ledge, reads 
 Seneca, and feels happy. This method of disposing of his 
 legs used to be taken advantage of by two naughty village 
 boys, who would watch until they saw him comfortably 
 settled, and then steal round to the back and climb his 
 walnut-tree. On one occasion, when they were helping 
 themselves, they saw, on looking down, FitzGerald walk- 
 ing backwards and forwards in his loose blue coat, book 
 in hand, under the tree, but never raising his eyes. He 
 kept them there the better part of an afternoon. In 
 March he hears of the death of his old friend and 
 pensioner Mrs. Chaplin of Wherstead, and looks out 
 another old lady to supply her place. In April he writes 
 to Mrs. Charlesworth of Bramford,^ chiefly with a view to 
 helping Carlyle on the subject of Cromwell's Lincolnshire 
 campaign ; and late in the year he hears of the pre- 
 sentation of John Allen to the living of Frees, in North 
 Shropshire.^ 
 
 ^ Near Ipswich. 
 
 ^ In October 1847 Allen was appointed Archdeacon of Salop.
 
 JOHN ALLKX, 1S44 
 
 Ffotn a painting by Samuel Lci'vyente. 
 
 PLATE XX.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 
 
 APRIL 1844 — SEPTEMBER 184S 
 
 In the meantime, the Rev. T. R. Matthews had been 
 continuing with more energy and fervour than ever his 
 evangehstic work, wearing himself out with ^ TheBrom- 
 preaching, six sermons a week being no un- ham Road 
 common occurrence. One particular service, ^^^ ' 
 at which FitzGerald was present, excites our interest 
 above others. It was on the night of Good Friday (April 
 1844). The worshippers had gathered early in front of 
 the Bromham Road Chapel. The traffic was impeded, 
 vehicles having a difficulty to get past. As soon as the 
 doors were opened the crowd (FitzGerald among them), 
 or as many as the building would hold, poured in, while 
 the rest stood with heads craned in at the door, or went 
 away disappointed. In the middle of the far end of the 
 chapel was a panelled pulpit with red cushion and 
 tassels, and ' S ' shaped gas bracket and globe. Close to 
 this sat FitzGerald. Matthews, a Saul of a man, with 
 prominent eyebrows, aquiline, high-bridged nose, and 
 hair curling up at the neck, in black Genevan gown 
 with white bands, ascended the pulpit steps, a wooden 
 cross in his hands. The subject of the sermon was the 
 Crucifixion. Raising the cross, and fixing his eyes on 
 it, Matthews commenced with a calm and minute descrip- 
 tion of the tremendous event, describing the approach to 
 
 187
 
 i88 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Golgotha, the driving of the nail into one hand, into the 
 other, through both feet, the raising of the cross, God 
 in man's image distended, the tears of the women, the 
 terror of the disciples, the sneers of the priests. ' He 
 saved others. Himself He cannot save.' No fine words, 
 no affectation, but the preacher's earnestness was terrible. 
 A grand sermon with a flavour of the old monkish days, 
 though even Peter the Hermit, with all his eloquence and 
 with his wooden cross, was less powerful to move the 
 masses. At the end ensued a few moments of profound 
 silence. Then Matthews earnestly begged that some of 
 his hearers would express their belief that Christ had 
 died for them. One after another, with tear-stained face 
 and with sobs, rose up and declared their faith in the 
 Redeemer. 'I was quite overset,' observes FitzGerald, 
 ' all poor people : how much richer than all who fill the 
 London churches. Theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven ! ' 
 FitzGerald was greatly impressed, too, by Matthews' 
 enthusiasm and intense feeling. He preached with all 
 his soul and with all his might, and he quitted the pulpit 
 'as wet as if he had been in a tub.' In fact, he was 
 slowly killing himself. 
 
 In May 1844 Browne and ' Monsieur Jem ' (that is 
 
 Spedding) were at Boulge visiting FitzGerald, who calls 
 
 , them good representatives — Browne of the 
 
 Marriag-e, Vita Attiva, Spedding of the Vita Contem- 
 
 30 Ju y I 44. pjg^^-jyg^ . ^]^Q formcr one of the busiest men 
 
 in Bedford, ' farmer, magistrate, militia officer — of more 
 use,' says FitzGerald, ' in a week than I in my life long' 
 — being all for action ; the latter all for persistent and 
 unwearied study. Browne, however, could spare odd 
 half-hours for contemplation ; and Spedding, ' that literary 
 sportsman,' was, as his letters show, fully appreciative 
 of the pleasures of country life. In one of his letters.
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 189 
 
 written just before a visit to Browne, he says : ' I hope 
 that before the partridges or hares are all shot we may- 
 make it suit each other to have a pop at them together. 
 We never quite settled the question which of us could 
 miss a hare cleanest.'^ This, however, was pleasantry, 
 each being a first-rate shot. Spedding clearly came into 
 the world for only two purposes : to edit Bacon and to 
 shoot grouse and snipe — grouse in his plantations at 
 Corrybrough, and snipe among the reeds of the Ouse. 
 
 Browne, as we have seen, had become engaged to Miss 
 Elizabeth Elliott. The death of her father took place 
 on 2 1 St February 1844, and by and by the date of the 
 wedding of Browne and Miss Elliott was fixed. 
 FitzGerald wished his friend every happiness, using the 
 words of Michael Drayton to his William Browne : 
 ' So mayst thou thrive as thou, young shepherd, art 
 beloved by me ' ; but his heart was sore all the same. 
 No more Bedford, he thought, and no more poplars, or 
 Clapham Tower, or ' Falcon ' at Bletsoe, or pottering along- 
 side the Ouse with book and colour-box. Ten years had 
 elapsed since his first visit, and this of 1844 was surely 
 to be the last ! He need not have troubled himself 
 with apprehensions, for Bedfordshire was to be his yet 
 another fifteen years. 'When I heard,' says he, 'that 
 they could not have less than five hundred a year, I gave 
 up all further interest in the matter. I could not wish a 
 reasonable couple more. W. B. may be spoilt if he 
 grows rich : that is the only thing could spoil him.' The 
 wedding, at which FitzGerald was present, took place at 
 Goldington, all the village being in gala, on 30th July 
 1844. Browne, who was twenty-six (his wife was nineteen), 
 is described at this time as having a very clear, pink, and 
 white complexion, a full, large, blue-grey eye, and a square 
 
 ^ Unpublished letter of Spedding's.
 
 igo LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 and rather massive forehead. Then he was shaven ; 
 subsequently he wore full moustache and whiskers. Four 
 portraits of him are in existence: (i) A water-colour — 
 head and shoulders — a very young man in fawn waistcoat, 
 darkish coat, light overcoat, light blue tie, longish hair, 
 shaven chin and lip. (2) Sketch by Thackeray — three- 
 quarters, cutaway coat, cane in left hand, stock and big 
 coat collar ; Swiss church in background. (3) An un- 
 finished oil painting by Lawrence — side face, auburn 
 hair, slight side whiskers. (4) A photograph of him 
 outside his hut at Aldershot. All are given in this book. 
 FitzGerald portrays his friend thus : ' Has ve ry good 
 abilities ; a ^.jriooth-mannered person ; more surface~Than 
 depth ; quite a man of the world ; fond of argument, but 
 not ill-tem pered ; careful, thoughtfulfor others, and a 
 good contriver ; gentlemanly ; would nol So a mean 
 thing.' 1 'He haH^^ajie-^ntuition,' says FitzGerald in a 
 letter of 7th February 1883, ' into men, matters ^and ^vep 
 in to matters o£_aft ; though Thackeray would call him 
 ^M^^ittle Browne," which I told him he was not justified in 
 doing.' The epithet 'Little' seems, however, to have 
 been suggested rather by Browne's stature, for he was 
 only five feet seven, whilst Thackeray himself was big and 
 burly. Moreover, FitzGerald in his playful moods did not 
 spare his friend either, often calling him 'Dear Stubby.' 
 Even six months later (December 1844) FitzGerald was 
 lamenting his supposed loss. 'Browne,' says he, 'is 
 married, and I shall see but little of him for the future. 
 I have laid by my rod and line by the willows of the Ouse 
 for ever. ' ' He is married and cannot come. " This change 
 is the meaning of those verses — 
 
 " Friend after friend departs ; 
 Who has not lost a friend?"' 
 
 Unpublished manuscript in the possession of the Rev. Kenworthy Browne.
 
 TURXPIKE COTTAGE, GOLDINGTON 
 Front a photoi^raph by Bcdiuell, Broivn and Co,, Bedford. 
 
 GOLi)i.\(;rox HAi.i. (H.KDioKD), KKOM ( ;oi,i»i N( ;ton green 
 
 From a photo>:raph hy J. . I. Riid. Esq., Bedford. I'l.ATE XXI.
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 193 
 
 But in the summer of 1845 FitzGerald is again off to 
 'dear old Bedfordshire,' the marriage having made no 
 difference whatever ; and presently we hear of Mr. and 
 Mrs. W. Kenworthy Browne taking up their residence at 
 Goldington Hall. 
 
 The village of Goldington is situated about two miles 
 north-east of Bedford, which in that direction, as in 
 others, is rapidly extending-. On the left, one 
 
 ' ^ -^ '^ , ' . 62. Golding- 
 
 passes the *Fox and Hounds inn and spacious ton Hail, 
 nursery gardens, and on the right the road J^^ Bloody 
 leading to the ruins of Newnham Priory, with 
 the site of Turnpike Cottage,^ the picturesque residence 
 of the common friend of the Brownes and FitzGerald, 
 Captain Addington. Addington was a retired naval 
 captain — a little, pursy, bald-headed, kindly, catty old 
 gentleman in brown coat and brass buttons, much 
 given to blazing fires, a luxurious arm-chair, and other 
 ' seductive comforts ' or discomforts. He divided his 
 time between Turnpike Cottage and his London club, 
 the United Service. His cats, which he treated like 
 human beings, and taught numerous accomplishments, 
 were the talk of the neighbourhood, and FitzGerald 
 extended their fame to Woodbridge. Goldington is built 
 round a green or goose-common. On the west is the 
 vicarage (a modern erection occupying the site of its low 
 and picturesque predecessor), on the north Goldington 
 Hall, on the east Goldington Bury, and on the south are the 
 majority of the cottages, with several inns. The church, 
 St. Mary's, is a little to the north-east of the Hall, and 
 beyond, near the Ouse, is a conical mound — the remains 
 of Risinghoe Castle. The Hall, dating from 1650, is a 
 spacious house, embosomed in shrubs and lofty trees, 
 but its chimneys and upper windows appear conspicu- 
 
 ' Pulled down in December 1902, just after our photograph of it was taken. 
 VOL. I. I
 
 194 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 ously and picturesquely above the foliage as one 
 approaches it from the green. The south or principal 
 front, like the rest of the house, is of old red brick, but 
 on the right of the entrance-porch is a patch of stone, 
 evidently the remains of an earlier house. Noticeable, 
 too, are the two curious round-headed recesses in the wall 
 to the left of the porch. There are fine old yews, chest- 
 nuts, hawthorns, walnuts, and firs. An old-fashioned 
 garden, with mounds of topiary work, and gay with 
 flowers, extends northward, and is succeeded by a pretty 
 pightle or paddock of classic fame, from which is obtained 
 a view of the gables of the house. There have been 
 considerable alterations and improvements at the Hall of 
 recent years, but all in keeping with the Cromwellian 
 buildinsf. The staircase and the decorations of the hall 
 are modern, but the massive carved oak doors are of 
 Browne's time ; whilst on the first floor is a room with the 
 original oak wainscotting, and untouched, except that the 
 ceiling has been raised. The furniture is modern. In 
 FitzGerald's day one of the charms of the place was the 
 fact of its being filled with furniture from Mrs. Piozzi's 
 house at Streatham, which Mrs. Browne's father had 
 bought as early as 1810. Dr. Johnson's own bed was 
 included, and in the room in which, during his visits here, 
 FitzGerald slept, stood the Great Cham's * own bookcase 
 and secretaire ; with looking-glass in the panels which 
 often reflected his uncouth shape.' 
 
 FitzGerald was never happier than when at Goldington 
 sauntering in its elmy fields and dreaming in the pightle;^ 
 and in his letters, both published and unpublished, he 
 speaks with feeling and affection of the village and the 
 friends he there made. If inclined for sport, and it was 
 
 ^ See chapter xii. of this work, ' When in Bedfordshire I put away almost all 
 books except Omar,' etc.
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 197 
 
 to fishing that he was always most addicted, he could 
 generally — if Browne was busy with his tenants, at a 
 true-blue dinner, or at his hundred and one other occu- 
 pations — fall back on Harry Boulton,i the gentleman 
 farmer of Puttenhoe, married to Browne's sister Anne ; 
 or Robert Elliott of Goldington Bury, Mrs. Browne's 
 brother. If studiously inclined he could, as he so often 
 did, look in at the vicarage, and talk philology with 
 the Rev. William Monkhouse.^ To Mr. Monkhouse, 
 a tall, handsome, ninible man with an aquiline nose, 
 who had been a great athlete, and who at fifty had 
 never seen a gate he could not jump, the vicarage was 
 a sort of Little Ease. He could not stand upright in 
 any of the rooms without brushing the ceilings with his 
 hair or bumping his forehead against the beams. Being 
 more solicitous, however, for the spiritual and educa- 
 tional advancement of the village than for the preservation 
 of the charms of his person, the situation gave him small 
 concern. He was an enthusiastic antiquary, his speciality 
 being Druidic Remains, which he held to be entirely 
 unconnected with Druidism, and he was the author of 
 a scholarly work on the etymologies of Bedfordshire, 
 which appeared in 1857. Very sensibly, he did not keep 
 his learning to himself, but, by way of lecture and con- 
 versation, imparted it to his thick-soled, but not unintel- 
 ligent, parishioners, who thus became not only good 
 Christians but respectable antiquaries. The Rev. 
 William Airy, FitzGerald's Keysoe friend, and Monk- 
 house were kindred spirits and boon companions. Airy 
 compiled a Digest of the Domesday Book as it con- 
 cerned Bedfordshire. If FitzGerald did not interest 
 
 * Henry Dyott Boulton. 
 
 '•^ Born 1805 ; curate of Goldington and Willington 1831, rector of Goldington 
 1835-
 
 198 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 himself much in their archaeology, he was ever ready 
 to discuss with both questions relating to philology. 
 Old Captain Addington of Turnpike Cottage cared 
 nothing for philology, but FitzGerald found him also 
 excellent company, and he would often visit the little 
 thatched homestead, which must have reminded him of 
 his cottage at Boulge, which, however, was less ornate, 
 and in which one could walk without treading on cats. 
 Captain Addington's family had owned Goldington 
 Bury, indeed most of the village; ; but the estate had 
 become encumbered, and when it was sold — Mr. Robert 
 Elliott, Mrs. Browne's father, being the purchaser — the 
 captain had seven-and-sixpence to take. With his seven- 
 and-sixpence, his Government pension, his servants, 
 ' Big Isaac ' and ' Little Isaac ' (father and son named 
 Joyce), his dog Badger, his tortoise-shell cat Tom, and 
 his other but less illustrious cats, the choleric little 
 captain then retired to Turnpike Cottage. His delight 
 was to drive about in a gig, dressed in a blue coat and 
 white waistcoat, with 'Little Isaac,' and to terrify chil- 
 dren, 'often threatening to ride over them.' This, how- 
 ever, was only his fun, for * he was a very tender man 
 for a captain.' 
 
 A favourite excursion with FitzGerald at this time 
 was to Turvey, four miles out, where lived Mr. George 
 Boulton, Harry Boulton's brother. Here FitzGerald 
 made a number of sketches, which for years were among 
 his most cherished treasures. The guests at Goldington 
 included Thackeray ; and he, FitzGerald, and Browne, 
 by their different heights, formed three steps as they 
 walked down Bedford High Street. Thackeray made a 
 good many sketches with Bedford scenes for background ; 
 moreover, presently, when engaged on Pendennis, he 
 drew largely on Browne, and in a minor degree, as we
 
 > 
 
 
 f. 
 
 O < 
 
 J. ~ 
 
 - s>
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 201 
 
 have already observed, on FitzGerald. Bedford does 
 not altogether correspond with Chatteris, which is 
 apparently a mixture of Bedford and some sleepy 
 cathedral town ; but Arthur Pendennis is clearly 
 enough Browne's double. ' Arthur's hair was of a 
 healthy brown colour which looks like gold in the 
 sunshine ; his face was round, rosy, freckled, and good- 
 humoured ; . . .in fact, without being a beauty, he had 
 such a frank, good-natured, kind face, and laughed so 
 merrily at you out of his honest blue eyes, that no 
 wonder Mrs. Pendennis thought him the pride of the 
 whole county.' Then again, Pendennis was only five 
 feet eight — a mere dwarf in the eyes of the gigantic 
 Thackeray. He rode a very good mare with un- 
 common pluck and grace, and took fences with great 
 coolness, had an 'honest taste for port wine,' was 
 an enthusiastic fox-hunter and angler, loved art and 
 literature, and had political ambitions. Such also was 
 Browne, and one could easily point to plenty of other 
 parallels. As Mrs. Anne Thackeray Ritchie observes, 
 ' There was a little likeness in Warrington to Edward 
 FitzGerald.' 
 
 That Browne was a man of culture is evident from 
 his commonplace books. One of them, a ' Book of 
 Extracts made in 1833,' contains among other entries 
 'A Paper on Diet,' 'Virgil's Tomb,' 'Remarks on 
 Hogarth by Horace Walpole,' and extracts from the 
 poets, principally Scott. Being now ambitious to dis- 
 tinguish himself in politics, he often spoke at the 
 meetings of the Bedford Conservative Society, and 
 nursed the hope of getting into St. Stephen's. Fitz- 
 Gerald's ideal man in Eupkranor, it will be remembered, 
 ' is qualified not only to shoot the pheasant and hunt 
 the fox, but even to sit on the Bench of Magistrates —
 
 202 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 or even in Parliament — not unprovided with a quotation 
 or two from Horace or Virgil.' 
 
 On August 20th FitzGerald is in London with 
 Thackeray, who is busy on Barry Lyndo7i,^ and they 
 63. Andalusia's dine with Quin at a party where ' FitzGerald 
 marriage. jg jj-, wonderful cue.' Later FitzGerald is at 
 
 Geldestone again, visiting Mrs. Schutz, and making for 
 a niece 'a Nelly-ad,' or abstract of Nell's wanderings 
 from the Old Curiosity Shop. In vSeptember he is at 
 Leamington to see his sister Andalusia married to the 
 Rev. Francis de Soyres, and gives a day to looking 
 over the field of Edgehill. ' If war breaks out in France,' 
 says he, ' I will take up arms as a volunteer under 
 Major Pytches.2 Pytches and Westminster Abbey ! ' 
 Back at Boulge, he wishes F. Tennyson were with him 
 to quarrel — that is ' in the sense of a good strenuous 
 difference of opinion, supported on either side by occa- 
 sional outbursts of spleen ' ; and in November he 
 declares, ' I certainly love winter better than summer. 
 Could one but know, as one sits within the tropic latitude 
 of one's fireside, that there was not increased want, cold, 
 and misery beyond it.' So he cuddles round the fire 
 in his solitary Boulge Cottage, his cat and the dog 
 ' Bletsoe ' on the rug, and his old woman, with her 
 beautiful red arms, in the kitchen, just as if it were an 
 Apuleius's or Gil Bias's robbers' cave, save that the prison 
 is his by choice, not necessity. ' We are never very 
 much displeased,' he cries, echoing La Rochefoucauld, 
 'with our neighbours' misfortunes'^ — but that is a libel 
 on himself, for he can scarcely enjoy his fire for think- 
 ing of the sufferings of the poor in the biting cold 
 
 ^ Appeared in Fraser's Magazine, January to December 1844. 
 ^ His friend at Melton Grange. 
 * Unpublished letter.
 
 \V. KKNWOKTH^■ I'.ROWNE 
 
 aketJi by Tliackeyay. 
 
 PLATE XXIV.
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 205 
 
 weather, though he thinks they are much to blame too 
 
 — 'they will have such enormous families.' 
 
 In May 1845 Bernard Barton, after a silence of nine 
 
 years, published his eighth volume of poetry. Household 
 
 Verses^ which is interesting to us on account of 64. Bernard 
 
 its frontispiece, 'Gainsborough's Lane,' and Barton's 
 
 eighth volume. 
 
 Vignetted title-page, 'Scene on the Deben, 'Le petit 
 both from paintings by FitzGerald's friend Churchyard.' 
 Thomas Churchyard ; also for the verses to Lucy Barton 
 and the stanzas^ suggested by a gift which Barton re- 
 ceived from FitzGerald's mother. ^ Thomas Churchyard 
 — 'my little friend Churchyard,' ' le petit Churchyard' — 
 was a solicitor and amateur artist of Woodbridge, who 
 did not, FitzGerald used wickedly to say, paint in ' body ' 
 colour. Churchyard, 'our great judge on art,' had a 
 poetical mind— once pleased FitzGerald, for instance, by 
 calling the pretty yellow aconites in front of Boulge 
 Cottage ' New Year's Gifts ' — and was an authority on 
 Gainsborough, Constable, Crome, and other East Anglian 
 artists. In his own profession Churchyard, despite, or 
 perhaps owing to, his gifts made little headway. Had 
 he loved parchment more and canvas less, he would 
 have had a plumper purse, though not necessarily a 
 more joyous existence. In short, his was the poetic 
 and artistic, not the business temperament. He em- 
 broidered even the law ; his nervous eloquence, to use 
 the words of his friend John Loder, ' often lending a 
 positive grace to the dry details of many an uninteresting 
 case.' His devotion to the fine and impoverishing arts 
 was, indeed, to him the very ' breath of life.' 
 
 Matthews the preacher had persevered in his work with 
 an earnestness which even his herculean frame could not 
 stand. In three years, says John FitzGerald, he preached 
 
 ^ Household Verses, p. 86. * Ibid. p. 83.
 
 2o6 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 over a thousand sermons — an average near upon of 
 one a day, but the preaching was but a part of his 
 65. Death of self-imposed labour.^ Take a glimpse at him 
 Matthews, at half-past five in the morning on Easter 
 ^^ ' ' Sunday, 1842. He is in a meadow by the 
 river Ouse, for seven persons are to be baptized. There 
 are one hundred and fifty present. 'A little while,' he 
 says, ' before I baptized, the sun had risen with peculiar 
 splendour, his bright rays threw a lustre over the solemn 
 scene and met the faces of our baptized brethren and 
 sisters as they came out of the water, making their faces 
 sparkle again, as the dewdrops in the morning sun ; it 
 was a glorious time, the sun shining, the children of 
 God rising out of the water, the animating voices of 
 friends by the river-side singing ''glory, honour, praise, 
 and power," made the whole scene truly solemn.' The 
 sick he anointed with oil, Omne oleo tranquillari — ' Every- 
 thing can be calmed with oil,' he used to say with Pliny. 
 And he prayed over people afflicted with deafness and 
 other complaints, though not always with success. ' One 
 for deafness of seventeen years standing, and on Sabbath 
 could hear better than for a long time,' but on another 
 occasion, though he prayed for two hours and a half 
 over a poor deaf woman, whose friends were anxious 
 'that she should have the use of her hearing,' his efforts 
 availed nothing, for 'there was a lack of faith.' A Mrs. 
 Symes of Ravensden, among others, is said to have been 
 the subject of a miraculous healing. ' She was so weak 
 that she had to be carried to the river, but on emerging 
 from the water was able to walk home without assistance.' 
 Fired with gratitude to God, she built at Ravensden the 
 
 ^ Mr. John FitzGerald tells us that in 1841 Matthews preached 328 times ; in 
 1842, 320 limes; in 1843, 360 times; in 1844, 280 times; and in the eight 
 months of 1845 (the year he died), 158 times.
 
 THOMAS CHURCHYARD 
 
 ' LE FETIT CHUKCHYARD' 
 
 I'l.ATl-: XX\'.
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 209 
 
 chapel which still stands. Bedford became the English 
 Lourdes. Matthews advocated the frequent reiteration 
 aloud of the more precious verses of Scripture. Thus 
 he would say, '"The blood of Jesus Christ, His Son, 
 cleanseth us from all sin " should be frequently repeated 
 by our lips. ... I have found faith greatly increased 
 by taking the word into my mouth.' 
 
 On the 22nd August 1845 he was at Walham Green, 
 London. The chapel was crammed, the doorway filled 
 up, the crowd extended so far across the road that the 
 omnibuses had difficulty in passing, and he got home at 
 ten, wearied out. On the Monday and Tuesday he exerted 
 himself even more, and his appetite failed. On the 
 Wednesday he went to dine with a gentleman, but could 
 eat nothing ; nevertheless he preached as usual in the 
 evening to a huge congregation. The exertion, the heat, 
 the closeness of the atmosphere, the exposure to the cold 
 air afterwards, quickened his complaint, and when they 
 brought him home to Bedford it was found that typhus 
 fever had set in. FitzGerald, who was then paying his 
 usual visit to the Brownes, deeply sympathised with his 
 ' noble preacher,' but feared for the worst. Conformably 
 to a plan made some time previous, he took a three days' 
 trip to Naseby. On his return on Friday, September 5th, 
 passing through Bedford at dusk, he saw a coffin carrying 
 down the street. It was for Matthews, who had died the 
 previous day in one of the apartments of his toad paradise 
 under the chapel in the Bromham Road. Says Fitz- 
 Gerald, writing on the following Sunday : ' I knew whose 
 it must be. I would have given a great deal to save his 
 life, which might certainly have been saved with common 
 precaution. He died in perfect peace, approving all the 
 principles of his life to be genuine.' 
 
 Matthews was buried on Monday, September 8th, in
 
 2IO LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 the graveyard at the back of Bromham Road Chapel, 
 both Edward and his brother John being among the 
 mourners. His trumpet was placed before the pulpit in 
 the chapel built by his arch-disciple Mrs. Symes at 
 Ravensden, where it still hangs. Subsequently his 
 remains were removed to Colmworth, where his followers 
 raised a tomb to his memory.^ Silhouettes of Matthews 
 preaching in his pulpit were eagerly sought after, but 
 they are now scarce. Indeed I have never seen but one, 
 which is here reproduced. 
 
 On the Sunday after Matthews' death, John FitzGerald 
 ' improved ' the death of his friend in an address delivered 
 in the Bromham Road Chapel. This was subsequently 
 printed,^ and for a time John FitzGerald continued 
 Matthews' work at Bedford, preaching regularly in the 
 chapel. Though sealed of the tribe of Matthews, and 
 sincere and staunch as to his principles, ' a sinner called 
 to be the Lord's delight,' John FitzGerald lacked the 
 evangelist's energy. Edward said wittily, that when his 
 brother wrote ' D.V.' (his constant habit) he was taking 
 the Lord's name in vain, the ' D.V.' merely meaning, ' If 
 / happen to be in the humour.' John FitzGerald was 
 nevertheless a very earnest man, and whenever he 
 preached commanded a large auditory. Yet he had an 
 impediment in his speech, which gave his voice a hissing 
 
 ^ See Appendix ix. He was at Colmworth twelve years, at Bedford fifteen. 
 
 - There is a copy in the British Museum : — 
 
 ' The Apostolic Minister's Preparation for Departure ; a Funeral Address on 
 the Death of the Rev. T. R. Matthews, by John FitzGerald, M.A.' In slate- 
 coloured paper covers. Price 4 shillings. 140 pp. 
 
 Contents — 
 
 Funeral Address, pp. i to 49. 
 
 Appendix i : On the Authority of the Canons, and how far they bind the 
 Clergy, pp. 51 to 81. 
 
 Appendix 2 : On the Presumption of Attempting to Condense the Whole 
 Scheme of Divine Revelation in a Smaller Globe than itself, pp. 82 and 83. 
 
 Appendix 3 : On Dissent, pp. 84 to 140.
 
 'MATTHEWS' CHAPEL,' BRO.M HAM K()A1>, i;i-,l)K)KI) 
 
 From a pholonraph hy IltdniU and Co., Heii/orJ. 
 
 I'l.ATI-: XWI.
 
 REV. T. R. MATTHEWS 213 
 
 or whistling sound, and his sermons were of inordinate 
 and wearisome length. A man well read in the scriptures, 
 'his chief aim,' says a hearer, 'was not to display his 
 abilities, but to lead his hearers to the fountain of life 
 and blessing in Jesus Christ.' In Bedford, owing to his 
 preaching, he was long a well-known figure. His 
 eccentricities, both in and out of the pulpit, were many. 
 'I sat with him once,' observes an informant, 'in a pew 
 at Bunyan Meeting. To my surprise, when the preacher 
 (it was the Rev. John Jukes ^) entered the pulpit, Mr. 
 FitzGerald began to undress. He did nothing worse, 
 however, than remove his boots and stockings and a few 
 other minor articles of attire, and empty the contents of 
 his pockets on to the cushions of the seat ; after which he 
 seemed comfortable and thoroughly to enjoy the service, 
 though he, unwittingly, whistled now and again, but 
 not more, it seems, than usual.' John FitzGerald was 
 never happy unless preaching, listening to sermons, or 
 arguing about and criticising them. 'I wish,' said 
 Edward plaintively, one day, after patiently listening to 
 one of John's tremendous harangues, ' I wish my brother 
 wouldn't always be talking about religion.' 
 
 ^ Minister at Bunyan Meeting, 1840- 1866.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 E. B. COWELL 
 OCTOBER 1 845- 1 853 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 9. Notes to the Table-Talk of John Seldeii, 1847. 
 
 10. The ' Bernard Barton' contributions to the Ipstvich Journal, 1849. 
 
 February 24 — Death of Bernard Barton; March 3 — Funeral of 
 Bernard Barton. 
 
 11. 'Memoir of Bernard Barton,' prefixed to Selections from the 
 
 PoeTHS and Letters of Bernard Barton, 1849. 
 
 12. Euphranor, 1st edition, 1851. 
 
 13. Polonius, 1852. 
 
 14. Six Dramas from Calderon, 1853. 
 
 The farm, ' Hall Farm,' at which Mr. Job Smith lived, 
 situated a little to the north of Boulge Hall, was a 
 66 A Peeo at f^^quent resort of FitzGerald's. It was an 
 the Hall Farm, old-fashioned, low thatched building, ' pro- 
 ^ '^ ■ vided with all the things in Bloomfield's 
 
 poems.' The good folks made their own candles (though 
 they didn't tell it at 'The Bull'i), and Alfred, Mr. Smith's 
 son, used to go down to the brook to fetch the rushes. 
 The chimney-corner was the snuggest nook in the 
 parish, and the most corpulent of pots hung from the 
 hake. One table served for the family and the labourers, 
 who sat together at the end, and the place reminded 
 FitzGerald of Mr. Tovill's farmstead in the Life of 
 George Crabbe. Of a winter's evening a noise would be 
 
 ^ At Woodbridge. 
 214
 
 E. B. COWELL 215 
 
 heard at the door as of some one stamping the snow 
 off his feet. 'There's the parson,' Mrs. Smith would 
 say, and in walks, as white as a miller, old Mr. Shribb 
 Reynolds — ' handsome Mr. Reynolds ' — with a basket of 
 pears. Presently, perhaps, ' Mr. Edward ' ^ joins the com- 
 fortable circle and smokes a long clay with the rest, 
 whilst Alfred's brother reads aloud from the newspaper, 
 with the Government red stamp at the corner, a speech by 
 Sir Robert Peel on the corn laws. When the rushlight 
 has burnt low and the log on the hearth has become 
 mostly white ash, Mrs. Smith begins to fidget, and the 
 evening is understood to have gone. At Hall Farm you 
 might burn as many candles as you liked in the morning, 
 which began with sulphur matches and tinder-box at 
 five, but there was a limit at night. Mr. Reynolds is 
 first to go. ' I '11 send the basket up,' Mrs. Smith 
 invariably said, and the old rector always gave the 
 reply, ' I brought it down full, surely I can carry it back 
 empty.' Then he would make for his house at Debach, 
 and FitzGerald would seek his Gil Bias's den at the park 
 gates. Colonel and Mrs. Short or no Colonel and Mrs. 
 Short. 
 
 FitzGerald was very fond of inviting Churchyard, 
 Bernard Barton, and the Rev. George Crabbe to his 
 cottage, and he dubbed them and himself ^^ 
 ' The Wits of Woodbridge.' The time passed ofWood- 
 pleasantly enough, for with each of these " ^^' 
 guests FitzGerald could always be expansive and effusive, 
 though at the supper-table there was more hospitality 
 than comfort. However, FitzGerald ' in his morning- 
 coat of blue serge, cut short,' and made like the rest of 
 his clothes — 'very baggy,' and in boots 'not suitable 
 for skates,' did the honours, and the fame of their con- 
 
 ' FitzGerald was always called ' Mr. Edward ' at the farm.
 
 2i6 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 versations reached as far as Woodbridge. Occasionally 
 there joined this circle Captain Capper Brooke of Ufford, 
 * Le Grand Capitaine Brohoke,' and the Rev. Robert 
 Groome, the very civilised, well-lettered, and agreeable 
 rector of Monk Soham.^ Brooke, who rode a huge chest- 
 nut charger with a long tail, was a good-looking, dapper, 
 well-dressed, and scrupulously neat man, with very black 
 whiskers, which were never allowed to go grey. He was 
 the pride of his valet and his tailor, and the very 
 antithesis in appearance of FitzGerald. This care for 
 the person made him look much younger than his years. 
 FitzGerald once said to him, ' You are a deceiver, mon 
 capitaine ; you falsify your years, you have no right to 
 look so young.' Captain Brooke could talk of rare and 
 sumptuous books, for he had a fine library, collected at 
 enormous expense and trouble. He made no account 
 of going even so far as Italy to secure anything he had 
 set his heart upon, but he was more of a collector than 
 a reader. FitzGerald sometimes visited Ufford. Once 
 he and Groome called together. The drawing-room there 
 had been newly refurnished, and FitzGerald sat himself 
 down on an amber satin couch. Presently there was 
 seen trickling over it a black stream, which came from 
 a penny bottle of ink which FitzGerald had bought in 
 Woodbridge and put into a tail-pocket.- 
 
 Groome, whose forte was folklore, wrote subsequently 
 under the name of John Dutfen, and in the Suffolk dialect. 
 The only Darter^^ a storyette styled by FitzGerald, who 
 reprinted it at his own expense, ' a beautiful Suffolk idyll.' 
 Another visitor at Boulge Cottage was the Rev. H. S. 
 Drew, Crabbe's curate. Crabbe and Drew might have 
 
 ^ Rector of Monk Soham from 1845 ; archdeacon of Suffolk from 1 869 to 
 1887. He died 19th March 1889. 
 * Two Suffolk Friends. 
 ^ See Two Suffolk Friends^ pp. 52 to 57.
 
 E. B. COWELL 217 
 
 been taken bodily out of Tristram Shandy. To hear 
 them was, to FitzGerald, better than a play. They 
 differed on various religious points, but particularly on 
 infant baptism — adult baptism being in Mr. Crabbe's 
 opinion preferable, while Drew was a psedo-baptist. 
 They took long walks together, and most of the way 
 argued loudly and with heat on this subject, whilst 
 Crabbe's hat, never in its right place, would work round 
 his head like satellite round a planet. Thus almost every 
 field thereabouts was a battlefield, and might have been 
 marked on the map with tiny crossed swords. FitzGerald 
 — a capital mimic — delighted to take off these antagonists. 
 ' Drew and Crabbe,' he would begin, ' have been taking a 
 walk and arguing as usual upon that accursed infant 
 baptism. Of course neither could convince the other,' 
 and then, to the infinite amusement of all present, he would 
 imitate their speech, gait, and gestures. Indeed when in 
 these merry moods he never spared his closest friends, 
 and Garrick himself was not more deliciously funny. 
 Now and again FitzGerald used to visit his old friend 
 Major Moor at Great Dealings, and he liked to sit in 
 the Major's snug parlour and talk, over a glass of Shiraz 
 wine, about India and the Hindu gods. 
 
 In 1845 Carlyle's Cromwell was at last published, but 
 FitzGerald, though he read it attentively, proved unim- 
 pressible. He admired certain descriptive passages in 
 the work — that, for example, about the battle of Dunbar, 
 but to Cromwell himself was not drawn. 
 
 About 1846 FitzGerald became acquainted with E. B. 
 Cowell, then a young man of twenty, and subsequently 
 professor of Sanskrit at Cambridge. Cowell it gg g- -q 
 was who unlocked for FitzGerald the treasure- Coweii. 
 house of Persian literature and showed him the way to 
 immortality.
 
 2i8 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Born at Ipswich in 1826, Edward Byles Cowell, eldest 
 son of Mr. Charles Cowell, corn-merchant, was brought 
 up to his father's business.^ Having, however, a turn 
 for books, he had borrowed from the Ipswich Literary- 
 Institute the Memoirs of the Life^ Writings, and Corre- 
 spondence of Sir William Jones, by Lord Teignmouth,^ a 
 work of thirteen volumes, which he studied with assiduity, 
 and which when the library was given up he purchased. 
 In October 1841 his father gave him a copy of the number 
 of the Edinburgh Review containing Macaulay's article on 
 Warren Hastings, but the boy was most attracted by the 
 list of new works advertised at the end, which included 
 An Introduction to the Grammar of the Sanskrit Lan- 
 guage, for the use of early students,^ by H. H. Wilson, 
 M.A. 'I saved up my pocket-money,' said Professor 
 Cowell to me,* ' and I bought the book at Christmas and 
 kept it by me as a future hope.' Every Monday he went 
 up to Mark Lane, but his thoughts were more on Virgil 
 than on corn, and he had always a Latin book in his 
 pocket. His great hope was to get money in business, 
 and then devote his life to books and reading. All his 
 plans, however, were changed upon his acquaintance with 
 Miss Elizabeth Charlesworth — 'the elect lady' of Fitz- 
 Gerald's letters — to whom he presently became engaged. 
 Cowell was absolutely without ambition, and never dreamt 
 of striving after honour ; but Miss Charlesworth had am- 
 bition enough for both. Cowell must go to Oxford and 
 make his way. So, 'a man of wit and sense,' as Kirke 
 White would have called him, he forsook Mark Lane for 
 
 1 These facts and others in this work about Cowell have not before been 
 made public. Some were told me by the late professor, during our interview in 
 1 901. Others are taken from his letters to me. 
 
 2 Published 1807. 
 
 3 London, 1841. 
 
 4 At our meeting in November 190 1.
 
 E. B. COWELL 219 
 
 the Aonian Maids. Together (and never was study pur- 
 sued more delightfully) he and Miss Charlesworth learnt 
 the Persian characters and then the grammar. This was 
 in 1845. Next year they went through Johnson's Mahab- 
 hdrata, and Cowell made some translations from the 
 Persian poet Hafiz,^ which he sent to FitzGerald, who 
 warmly praised them and expressed the hope that the 
 labours in this orey mine would be continued. Hence- 
 forth Cowell — 'a judge of everything while pretending to 
 nothing ' ; a man modest — nay shy ; with ' great hidden 
 humour'; with a 'head for anything' — was 'my dear 
 Pundit,' ' that sheikh of mine.' 
 
 The acquaintance formed with Cowell was, as we said, 
 an event of the first importance to FitzGerald. But for 
 Cowell there would have been no learning of Persian, 
 let alone the writing of Omar Khayyam. Then again, as 
 a devout student of the Bible and an optimist profoundly 
 endued with the belief that our lives are guided by an 
 Almighty hand, Cowell exercised over FitzGerald just the 
 influence then needed. It was the alliance of the doubter 
 with the man absolutely without doubt. Cowell's favourite 
 text is alone sufficient to reveal him to us : ' This God is 
 our refuge for ever. He will be our Guide even unto 
 death.' 
 
 In April 1846 Carlyle was again writing about that 
 constantly discussed, but never erected, stone for Naseby ; 
 and in October, FitzGerald, who was medi- 
 tating Euphranor, visited his old rooms in Ed^gworth 
 King's Parade, Cambridge, to find the same 12th October 
 prints hanging on the walls, and his old 
 hostess, Mrs. Perry, unaltered. On his way back he 
 calls at Bury St. Edmunds to see Donne, hard-working 
 
 ^ Incorporated by Cowell in an article on Hafiz published (anonymously) in 
 Fraser's Magazine for September 1854. 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 220 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 and uncomplaining as ever, who had just settled there, 
 and to have a look at the old school in Northgate Street ; 
 and then comes news of the death of Frank Edgeworth, 
 which occurred 12th October 1846. 'We learned next 
 that he was dead,' comments Carlyle, 'that we should 
 see him no more. The good little Frank.' ' I do not yet 
 feel half so sorry as I shall feel,' writes FitzGerald. 'I 
 shall constantly miss him.' Edgeworth's half-sister, 'the 
 great Maria,' had about three more years to live.^ 
 
 In January 1847 Carlyle had received a communica- 
 tion from a William Squire, then of Yarmouth, who 
 70. The professed to have in his possession a number 
 
 'Squire' of letters written by Cromwell. As Fitz- 
 
 Papers. 
 
 Kembieat Gerald, fond of the company of sailors, was 
 
 Cassiobury. often in the neighbourhood of Yarmouth, 
 Carlyle asked him to try to see the letters ; so in June 
 FitzGerald called on Squire, whom he found ' a whole- 
 some, well-grown, florid, clear-eyed, open-browed man ' 
 of about thirty-eight, — a choleric, ingenuous fellow, a 
 little mad. According to Squire, an ancestor of his, who 
 served under the Parliament, left a journal — between two 
 and three hundred folio pages of manuscript — includ- 
 ing thirty-seven letters by Cromwell. Squire, fearful — 
 so he said — lest the knowledge of the fact that his family 
 had received letters from Cromwell should get abroad 
 and be detrimental to their interests, first copied out the 
 letters, and then put the manuscript into the fire — a cock- 
 and-bull story which FitzGerald, after sherry and biscuits 
 (which it certainly wanted), came away believing. An 
 article on these letters, from the pen of Carlyle, appeared 
 in Frasers Magazme for December 1847, the name of 
 their possessor being withheld. The critics, however, 
 who had the letters without the sherry and biscuits, 
 
 ^ She died 22nd May 1849.
 
 E. B. COWELL 221 
 
 showed themselves sceptical, and many pronounced them 
 forgeries. Even Carlyle admitted that the business had 
 an amazing look, but declared that personal knowledge of 
 Squire, who had called twice at Cheyne Row, forced him 
 to believe in the 'fundamental authenticity ' of the man. 
 Poor FitzGerald made no complaint about all this, so far 
 as we know ; but it must have seemed to him on the 
 whole less agreeable even than bone-digging at Naseby. 
 The curious will find these letters at the end of volume ii. 
 of Ci'omweWs Letters and Speeches.'^ Another of Fitz- 
 Gerald's occupations this year was to furnish notes for 
 an edition of the Tahle-Talk of John Selden, edited by 
 S. W. Singer. Of Selden, FitzGerald says in Polonius, 
 ' Here we find wit, humour, fancy, and good sense alter- 
 nating, something as one has heard in some scholarly 
 English gentleman's after-dinner talk — the best English 
 commonsense in the best common English.' There is 
 little that is original in the notes, though here and there 
 FitzGerald is clearly seen, as, for example, in a reference 
 to one of his favourite books. Swift's Tale of a Tub, of 
 which, he suggests, Selden's passage, ' Every man has 
 a doublet,' etc., may be the seed. Selden is quoted eight 
 times in Polonius. 
 
 Now and then FitzGerald still met * Anglo-Saxon ' 
 Kemble, who, living, or rather languishing, * in a poor 
 small cottage on a wild corner of common near Cassio- 
 bury,'^ was trying to earn bread by making a History of 
 the Saxons.'-^ To the smart man of business he must 
 look a Simple Simon Kemble as well as an Anglo-Saxon 
 Kemble, but the lover of learning will grieve that to such 
 a man, engaged upon so important a work, England 
 could offer no adequate reward. There were many dunces 
 
 ^ Ashburton Edition. ^ Near Watford, Herts. 
 
 ^ Records of a Later Life, by Fanny Kemble, vol. iii. p. 151.
 
 222 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 receiving high salaries for doing nothing, while J. M. 
 Kemble toiled hard for a pittance in that ' poor small 
 cottage ' at Cassiobury. 
 
 In August 1847 FitzGerald visited first his sister 
 Andalusia (Mrs. De Soyres), and afterwards his old 
 
 71. Coweii's college chum, the Rev. Francis Duncan, 
 marriage. rector of West Chelborough, in Dorset, a 
 quiet, saturnine man, with five children to flurry and a 
 pipe to soothe him — the Francis Duncan with whom in 
 the undergraduate days he had discussed his ambitions. 
 In October, E. B. Cowell was married to Miss Charles- 
 worth, their honeymoon at Dover being spent charac- 
 teristically in reading Persian, and particularly the 
 Mahabharata. FitzGerald opened the new year (1848) by 
 reading Thucydides, delighting especially in the Fourth 
 Book. ' It came upon me,' says he, ^ come stella in del, 
 when in the account of the taking of Amphipolis Thucy- 
 dides comes with seven ships to the rescue. . . . This 
 was the way to write well, and this was the way to make 
 literature respectable ' — that is for the historian himself 
 to be one of the leading figures in the story. 
 
 FitzGerald took great interest in the village children, 
 
 and helped both in the school at Debach and that at 
 
 ^. ^ ,, Bredfield. At Debach he taught the elder 
 
 72. FitzGerald =* 
 
 as a Teacher children and the youths their notes from the 
 
 of the Bible. blackboard by a simple method of his own 
 invention, and books used in these classes may still be 
 seen in the neighbourhood. The natives took to crotchets 
 and semibreves as ducks to water ; but when they were 
 asked to pronounce differently the names of their vil- 
 ages they became embarrassed. ' You should pronounce 
 Debach,' FitzGerald used to say, ' as it is spelt, with 
 the accent on the second syllable, not Debbidge, which 
 is not at all pretty — sounds, in fact, too much like
 
 E. B. COWELL 223 
 
 cabbage. Then Boulge — why don't you call it Boulge, 
 with a long **o" and a silent "u"? Bow-widge, another 
 sort of cabbage, is horrible ! ' To please him they all tried 
 — screwing their mouths and making painful contortions 
 with their bodies, but, despite their good-will, nothing 
 but Debbidge and Bow-widge would come out. 
 
 The school at Bredfield was taught by a Mrs. Jasper, 
 and FitzGerald and Miss Caroline Crabbe went at stated 
 times to assist. FitzGerald gave lessons from the Bible, 
 and read twice a week from the Pilgrim's Progress ; and 
 Miss Crabbe used to write letters to the elder children 
 and deliver them herself, with the request that the 
 receivers would reply in writing. One of these letters, 
 written to Emma Cole, lies before me. ' I think,' 
 says Miss Crabbe, 'writing letters is a very good 
 thing for all of you that can do it, for very often, 
 if a person can spell words perfectly and knows what 
 she wants to say, she cannot put it upon paper.' 
 With Mrs. Jasper to superintend, FitzGerald to teach 
 scripture, and Miss Crabbe to encourage English com- 
 position, Bredfield school was privileged. On the other 
 hand, when FitzGerald's back was turned Mrs. Jasper 
 wasted a good deal of time gossiping with FitzGerald's 
 old woman, the redoubtable Mrs. Faire, who loved to 
 go over to the school, in her huge bonnet crowded with 
 roses, and pass the time of day. When FitzGerald was 
 seen coming along the road she would promptly slip 
 away, leaving behind her a powerful odour of snuff. 
 Miss Lucy Barton used to worship at Bredfield, and 
 after the evening service taught the Sunday-school, 
 which was held in the church. How soon FitzGerald 
 became engaged to her, or whether there was a formal 
 engagement, or merely an understanding, is not known. 
 Apparently FitzGerald did not consider himself engaged.
 
 224 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 On 26th February 1848 FitzGerald lost his old friend 
 Major Moor, who died at Bealings House. They carried 
 him down that winding drive, past the ugly 
 Major Moor pyramidal sarcophagus full of gods, to the 
 and Bernard church to which he and the Royal George 
 walking-stick and little FitzGerald had so 
 often gone together. A scholar without the gift of ex- 
 pressing himself acceptably, Moor is remembered rather 
 as a good man than as a man of letters. To know him 
 was to love him. 
 
 The remainder of the year was spent by FitzGerald' 
 in his usual way, either at Boulge or the homes of his 
 friends. In December (1848) his mother was at Brighton, 
 and Thackeray, who was visiting Brighton too, wrote 
 in high spirits to FitzGerald as follows (19th December 
 1848) : ' My dear old Cupid, — I did not come to see 
 thee, for I was working day and night to finish that 
 Xmas affair, and the few spare hours I had went — R ! 
 never mind where — as soon as the book and Punch and 
 the plan for Pendennis were done. But the very day 
 when somebody left town I came down to this Mireau 
 Eboad. And am directly very much better. I slept 
 well. I have laughed already twice this morning. I 
 have begun Pendennis uL, and have leisure to think 
 of my friend and wish he was here. Come, Eros ! 
 come, boy-god of the twanging bow ! Is not Venus 
 thy mother here? Thou shalt ride in her chariot, and 
 by thy side shall be, if not Mars, at least Titmars. How 
 these men of letters dash off these things ! c'est eto^mant, 
 ma parole d'honneitr, c'est etonnant.^ ^ 
 
 Carlyle, who had been writing on the Irish in The 
 Examiner," mentions in a letter to FitzGerald that 
 
 ^ Unpublished letter in possession of Rev. E. Kenworthy Browne. 
 '^ 13th May 1848.
 
 E. B. COWELL 225 
 
 Thackeray, owing to Vanity Fair, had become ' a great 
 lion,' but presently FitzGerald receives a letter from 
 Thackeray beginning ' My dear old Yedward,' and 
 declaring that 'all about being a lion is nonsense.' 
 Two or three prominent people ask him to their houses 
 — nothing more.^ 
 
 The health of Bernard Barton, which had for years 
 been failing, now declined rapidly. He had never 
 cared much for exercise — indeed he took ' almost as little 
 as a milestone,' but now he rarely went beyond the 
 town. He still, however, fulfilled his daily task at the 
 Bank, still enjoyed reading Rob Roy or The Antiquary 
 with FitzGerald, especially on a Saturday night. He 
 felt no acute pain, and having 'a skeely doctor,' a good 
 nurse, and kind friends, he declined to fret. Following 
 the advice of Lamb and Byron he had clung to his 
 Bank, resolved, as he said, to keep on making figures 
 till Death made him a cipher. On the 19th of February, 
 unable to get to the Bank, he spent most of the day on 
 his sofa, but chatted with callers and wrote several letters. 
 In the evening, after conversing cheerfully with a friend, 
 he rose, went to his bedroom, and suddenly rang the 
 bell. When his daughter obeyed the summons she 
 found him dying. In a few minutes more that bene- 
 ficent and affectionate heart was still for ever — so 
 suddenly did Death knock at the door of Bernard 
 Barton. His poems are now forgotten, but Fame robbed 
 him with one hand only to reward him with the other, 
 for the fact of his intimate friendship with Lamb and 
 FitzGerald has given him immortality. Attended by a 
 long train of members of the Society of Friends and 
 others. Barton's body was borne up the street to the 
 graveyard of the Friends' Meeting-house, and there 
 
 ' Biographical Edition of Thackeray, vol. i. p. 35.
 
 226 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 lowered into its final resting-place, a service being 
 afterwards held in the chapel, 'when three or four very 
 dull but good people spoke in a way that would have 
 been ludicrous but that one saw they were in earnest.'^ 
 He lies in a spot which is now marked by a small 
 lichen-stained stone with the simple inscription — 
 
 Bernard Barton 
 
 DIED 
 
 19 OF 2 MO. 1849 
 
 AGED 65 
 
 His wife Lucy, who had died forty-two years pre- 
 vious, lies un memorialed a few feet to the right. The 
 Friends' Meeting-house is still standing. Oblong in 
 plan, it is of red brick coloured white, except in the front, 
 which is cemented, and has a tiled roof. The interior 
 is divided into three parts : the chapel proper, a vestry, 
 and a schoolroom above the vestry. The chapel has 
 two galleries, one on the right hand and one on the left 
 as you enter, and both, as well as the benches and the 
 other fittings, are painted white. Standing in the school- 
 room we read the motto printed in bold letters, ' It is as 
 much a Christian duty to avoid taking offence as to avoid 
 giving offence,' and it was as if the Quaker poet had 
 spoken to us. The portion of the graveyard that is not 
 given over to the dead grows cabbages, and all is very 
 quaint, and very quiet, and old world-like, and Bernard 
 Barton like. To the Ipswich Journal of 24th February 
 FitzGerald furnished an account of the last days and 
 death of his amiable friend, and in the same paper of 
 3rd March a paragraph respecting the funeral, followed 
 
 1 FitzGerald.
 
 ^fe. 
 
 
 15ERNARIJ liARTOX 
 Frofii a painting by Satnuel l.mvrcnct. 
 
 I'l.ATE XWI
 
 E. B. COWELL 229 
 
 by some lines of particularly feeble verse. Barton having 
 left his daughter almost unprovided for, FitzGerald, who 
 deeply sympathised with her position, took upon himself 
 to edit and publish, by subscription, for her benefit a 
 selection from her father's poems and letters.^ The work 
 is dedicated to Mr. and Mrs. Newton Shawe of Kesgrave 
 Hall, who are described as friends of Bernard Barton ; 
 and the memoir, although FitzGerald speaks of it 
 disparagingly, is a masterpiece of its sort. The sub- 
 scription-list is almost as interesting as the memoir, and 
 shows how diligently FitzGerald strove to make the book 
 a pecuniary success. He and other members of the 
 FitzGerald family took altogether some fifty copies, and 
 the names of his friends appear. Thus we notice Rev. 
 W. Airy, Archdeacon Allen, Arthur Biddell, Major 
 F. C. Brooke, Mrs. W. K. Browne (Goldington Hall, 
 Bedford), Edward Cowell (Bramford), Miss Crabbe, 
 Dr. Crowfoot, Rev. Thomas Maude (Hasketon). Sped- 
 ding took ten copies, and the receipt of the parcel is 
 thus acknowledged in an unpublished letter ^ in my 
 possession : ' A large packet arrived . . . looking from 
 its shape like a mighty box of real Havannahs, and 
 directed to J. Spedding, Esq., Mirehouse, Whitehaven. 
 Being handled, however, it no longer seemed to be the 
 baccy that I hoped, but books. What books should they 
 be ? Nobody had ordered a work of that size, and if any 
 had been ordered they could have come from Carlisle, 
 not from Whitehaven. These considerations passed 
 through my mind while I was untying the knot of a 
 parcel, and it is a weakness with me never to use a knife 
 till I am beaten, which was no sooner accomplished than 
 I saw how it was. The entire ten volumes of B. B.' 
 
 ' Selections from the Poems and Letters of Bernard Barton, edited by his 
 daughter, 1849. ^ To FitzGerald.
 
 230 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Soon after the death of her father, Lucy Barton became 
 companion to two of the grand-nieces of Mr. Hudson 
 Gurney of Keswick Hall, Norwich, where she stayed 
 several years. The facts that led to the marriage between 
 her and FitzGerald are rather befogged ; still we can get 
 some idea of what really took place. The prim and busy 
 helpmeet of her father, the enthusiastic young Sunday- 
 school teacher, had become stereotyped as the equally 
 prim and busy woman with a gift for tract-distributing 
 and district visiting. A submissive man, with evangelical 
 leanings, would have found her a model wife, but she 
 was one of the last women FitzGerald should have 
 thought of. They were much together prior to Barton's 
 death, and FitzGerald certainly made to Barton some kind 
 of promise respecting her, which Barton and she under- 
 stood to mean marriage, but which FitzGerald seems to 
 have regarded only as a promise to see that she was never 
 in want. However, seven years were to elapse before 
 their marriage. 
 
 In May (1849) came the news of the death of Miss 
 Edgeworth (she died on the 22nd). Among the last 
 words that left her pen were some lines expressing the 
 warmth of her affection for Ireland, and the remark, ' Our 
 pleasures in literature do not decline with age ; last ist 
 of January was my eighty-second birthday, and I think 
 that I had as much enjoyment from books as I ever had.' 
 
 In June, FitzGerald is reading and eulogising Keats's 
 letters and poems, and in October he is visiting his still 
 
 ^.. ^ . superb and still magfriificently dressed mother 
 
 74. The Cot- ^ b J 
 
 tageat at Ham, near Richmond, a spot haunted 'by 
 
 SpeddinVs ^^^ memory of princes, wits, and beauties.' 
 
 Forehead Writing to F. Tennyson, he says he wishes 
 
 he were at that poet's elbow so as to advise 
 what verses should or should not be printed. FitzGerald
 
 X 
 X 
 
 < 
 
 J 
 
 O 
 
 fa 
 
 < 
 
 o 
 o 

 
 E. B. COWELL 233 
 
 laid claim to great taste, and in Poloniiis observes, ' Taste 
 is the feminine of genius.' The name of philosopher he 
 repudiates, as one undeserved by a man who resents the 
 toothache. This same year, 1849 (June 30th to August 
 6th), Carlyle is in Ireland and stays for some time at 
 Halverstown, Kilcullen, with Mrs. Purcell, widow of 
 FitzGerald's uncle Peter. 
 
 After his marriage, Mr. E. B. Cowell went to reside 
 in a little house, or rather cottage — for there were only 
 two fair-sized rooms up and two down — at Bramford, 
 near Ipswich, a modest brick building washed with stone- 
 colour ; flower garden in front, fruit garden behind. 
 The windows had quaint-looking red Venetian shutters, 
 and before the door stood a little monkey-tree — now a 
 very large monkey-tree, as tall almost as the house 
 itself. Over the front clambered a japonica (thickly 
 studded, when I was there one May, with red blossoms) ; 
 and old-fashioned flowers such as gillivers, London 
 pride, and butter -of- witches, the last in great yellow 
 patches, brightened the box-edged beds. The surround- 
 ing scenery is level and placid, but scarcely picturesque 
 save in the neighbourhood of the river — the Gipping, 
 or, as FitzGerald preferred to call it, as more poetical, 
 the Orwell, a name which the children of men bestow 
 on it only after it reaches Ipswich. Here Cowell and 
 his wife — for Mrs. Cowell was equally enthusiastic as 
 a student — studied the Greek classics, Spanish and 
 Persian. FitzGerald often joined them, and presently 
 he too began to ' nibble ' at these languages. His 
 first-love was Spanish, at which, helped by Cowell, he 
 was working sedulously in 1850. Years later, in un- 
 happy hours, when thinking of these idyllic scenes, his 
 two beloved friends, the cottage with the monkey-tree, 
 the pellucid river, the old mill, the footpath leading
 
 234 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 to Ipswich, Elmsett village, where they read the Magico 
 together, he often repeated with a sigh Moore's lines, 
 beginning — 
 
 ' The days are gone when Beauty bright.' 
 
 Cowell delights in botany, and yearns after 
 
 ' Simples with preposterous claims, 
 And with yard-long Latin names,' 
 
 and is happy all day, as is FitzGerald too, out of 
 sympathy, when he finds some new plant. Cowell had 
 a hawk's eye for singling out resemblances in literature. 
 He made Job with his mallows by the bushes (chapter 
 XXX.) illustrate Don Quixote^ and facetiously compared 
 Hatifi's Haft Paikar, a poem on the seven castles of 
 Bahram Gur, with Corporal Trim's unfinished tale of 
 * The Seven Castles of the King of Bohemia.' Every- 
 thing in that smiling cottage was riveted on FitzGerald's 
 memory — the green ribbon in Mrs. Cowell's hair, the 
 slippers (Cowell's) he used to wear, even ' Keziah's 
 cakes.' To all three — Mr. and Mrs. Cowell and Fitz- 
 Gerald — everything at Bramford was iridescent, romantic, 
 delightful. Mrs. Cowell wrote poems — pretty but diffuse; 
 FitzGerald revised them. Cowell and FitzGerald sat 
 with their heads together over some entrancing Spanish 
 or Persian poem, and to FitzGerald (looking back in 
 after years) it was a Salaman and Absal existence ; 
 and the little garden in the rear grew apples as rosy 
 as those that Absal's taper fingers had gathered. How 
 often he thought of that room in which they used to 
 sit and study ! To other eyes its furniture might seem 
 plain, but to him, ' Oh the ebony ! oh the gold ! ' It 
 might have been an apartment in a palace of the 
 C^sars, instead of a poor little room in a poor little
 
 E. B. COWELL 235 
 
 house with a poor little newly planted monkey-tree in 
 front. It was well that FitzGerald enjoyed Bramford, 
 with all its colour, sunshine, warmth, phantasm, and 
 glamour, for a sable enough time was in store for him 
 — sunless gloom, aching heart, hideous days, sleepless 
 nights. It was to be a drop from mountain heights to 
 profoundest abysses. During one of FitzGerald's visits to 
 Bramford (in 1850), Spedding, ' that aged and most subtle 
 serpent,' leaving his hole in Lincoln's Inn Fields and 
 bringing with him evidence of both his pursuits (Bacon 
 in brain, and a charge of shot in one leg), came down 
 to join them. As usual he was witty and illuminating ; 
 indeed, wherever he went he left his aura and a sort of 
 Platonic perfume. A willow near the old mill at Bram- 
 ford, under which he explained the laws of reflection and 
 refraction in water, w^as thenceforward called * Spedding's 
 Willow,' and FitzGerald could never see it without re- 
 calling him. The mill itself brought to FitzGerald's 
 mind Tennyson's poem, 'The Miller's Daughter,' and 
 often after in imagination he would lie 
 
 ' Beside the mill-wheel in the stream, 
 While Spedding's Willow whispers by.' 
 
 He also amused himself with the idea that Spedding in 
 face resembled Shakespeare, declaring that he ought to 
 have edited Shakespeare, in which case one frontispiece 
 would have served for author and editor. The resem- 
 blance, however, was chiefly in the high forehead and 
 the bald crown, both of which were a constant provoca- 
 tive of fun with FitzGerald and his friends. Fanny 
 Kemble speaks of * the white, round object which is the 
 head of him,' and Thackeray, who pretended that he 
 could find it somehow or other in all things, drew it 
 rising ' with a sober light over Mont Blanc, and re-
 
 2r,6 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 fleeted in the lake of Geneva.' Instead of Spedding-, it 
 was the forehead ; Spedding was swallowed up in the 
 forehead. FitzGerald begged Frederick Tennyson to 
 hasten back to London, that they might sit together 
 ' under the calm shadow of Spedding's forehead.' When 
 in 1842 Spedding accompanied Lord Ashburnham to 
 America as private secretary, FitzGerald burst out with, 
 ' Of course you have read the account of Spedding's 
 forehead landing in America. English sailors hail it 
 in the Channel, mistaking it for Beachy Head.' Later, 
 FitzGerald felt sure Spedding was safe, believing that 
 to scalp such a forehead was beyond any Indian's power. 
 On his return from America, Spedding had thrown him- 
 self heart and soul into the labour of his life, the editing 
 of Bacon ; a task to which he was so devoted that in 
 1847 he refused an under-secretaryship and ^2000 a 
 year in order to be able to give the whole of his time 
 to the work. 
 
 FitzGerald had not seen Donne, who still lived at 
 Bury, for nearly a year, but letters passed, and he read 
 of one event there with extreme interest, the celebration, 
 on the 2nd of August 1850, of the three hundredth 
 anniversary of his old school. The sermon was preached 
 by Dr. Blomfield, Bishop of London, a former scholar, 
 and *our Donne' presided at the banquet afterwards in 
 the Assembly Rooms. 
 
 In the letter of 31st December 1850 to F. Tennyson, 
 FitzGerald says : ' The delightful lady ' (Mrs. Cowell) * is 
 75 Cowell fe'^'^g' to leave this neighbourhood and carry 
 goes to her young husband to Oxford, there to get 
 
 him some Oriental professorship.' This re- 
 moval took place a few days later, in January 185 1. 
 When Cowell was gone FitzGerald grew doleful. His 
 heart sickened when he thought of Bramford all desolate.
 
 E. B. COWELL 237 
 
 Said he, ' I shall now almost turn my head away as 
 any road, or railway, brings me within sight of the little 
 spire.' ^ 
 
 In 185 1 FitzGerald published Euphranorr- Like Plato 
 and Digby — and his indebtedness to both has already 
 been pointed out — he * took the great pass- 
 port of poetry in order to enter into the gates 'Euphranor.' 
 of popular judgment.' The companionship 
 of Williani—Kg nworthy Browne — that modern Bayard, 
 chevalier sans peiir et sans reproche — a man who, as we 
 have seen, combined useful study with vigorous exercise, 
 
 had forced upon FitzGerald the belief that the ordinary 
 
 «~— — - — - — ^ 
 
 Student pored over his books far too m uch. In th e 
 small seminarieSi_at the great public schools, and even 
 at Cambridge_and Oxford, atWetEsIwere in those days 
 practically unknown . A student at Cambridge could 
 take a walk into the country or indulge in a little boat- 
 ing, and that was all. Cricket, football, and other 
 sports, which to-day are probably overdone, had then 
 comparatively few votaries. University men were of 
 two kinds : the close-working, pale, dwindled student, 
 and the idler. What is wante d, asseverate d__FjtzGerald, 
 is for men to combine study and exercise judicious|yj— 
 tCL.be^JxLshor t, fine, heal t hy7~edircateg^ng lishmen,not 
 peaky^ etiolated^, angujaTj^ l ank-haired litt je_ bein gs IfiJL 
 only to have their necks wrung.' FitzGeraldjwgiild^ 
 not Eieep^ child TnHobrs just^becausethe ground is_4a 
 little damp or the sky lowering — far better to rough it 
 somewhat ; and he thought a sounding slap and 
 * Don't do so any more ' far better than shutting up all 
 
 ' Letters (Macniillan). 
 
 * None of the facts which relate to the origin of Euphranor have before been 
 published. They were discovered by me when I went through the Browne 
 manuscripts and books.
 
 238 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 day in a bedroom. How he pitied the wretched child 
 committed to the tender mercies of the Educational 
 Skythrops, who gave his pupils ten hours a day of 
 grammar, etc., and by way of recreation two hours' 
 daily walk and conversation with himself and his sallow 
 and consumptive-looking pupils ! Then he would im- 
 prove Eton with ' good military drill, with march and 
 counter-march,' and encampment by Father Thames, 
 and by giving the boys, in addition to the playground, 
 'a piece of arable to work in,' instancing the fact that 
 Hugh Latimer wrought with his father's hinds in 
 Leicestershire. All young men, he held, should be 
 taught not only to ride * Dobbin,' but to saddle him, 
 get a collar over his head, the crupper over his tail — 
 and without awkwardness ; in short, to arm themselves 
 against contingencies, and especially against those 
 minor trials of life which are so hard to encounter be- 
 cause of their frequency. The atmosphere about a man 
 would then be a far more invigorating one than could 
 be created by closet-loads of poetry, metaphysics, and 
 divinity. More of the animal, less of the rational ! His 
 ideal poets are Chaucerj_I^rho]^coindride_Jfe^ 
 al^ady ^^Bofn^Tiim wellhin chevachie ' and done business 
 as^-aTPamBassa dui ; sm ^TSilinsZS^hiinot only sang but 
 
 ploughed; his Jdeal historians. Gibbon, who--eaptained 
 a body of Hampshire ^ militia , jjidJIhucydides , who _cQm— 
 manded ships^'aT-Tfeasos^^^He liked t he studious m an 
 to be, not sickly, irritable, inactive, and solitary, but 
 sound in wmd and limb, mind and body — such^ one, 
 for example, as PhidippHsipSL-Ken worthy Browne), who 
 now comes riSmg in on his glorious mare of illustrious 
 pedigree, Miss Middleton. When questioned concerning 
 
 ^ Cf. Carlyle's remark in Hero- Wofship : ' The poet who does nothing but 
 sit on a stool and write poetry will never write a poem worth reading.'
 
 E. B. COWELL 239 
 
 some of those equestrian difficulties which had been the 
 subject of dispute, Phidippus treats all as banter, and 
 pretends he is no judge — I must ask older hands, and 
 so forth. After giving his mare in charge to the hostler, 
 with due directions as to her toilet and table, he took 
 off the saddle and bridle himself and adjusted the head- 
 stall, and on the way out asked, * Was she not a 
 beauty?' for he persisted in the delusion that his com- 
 panion knew more of the matter than he chose to admit. 
 
 Two other features of Browne's character also come 
 out in this dissertation : A"st his lack of taste for sporting 
 ladies, and secondly hisenflnrsrasm— for bowls. After 
 the game at the 'Three Tuns,' Browne, who ranks him- 
 self among 'the best of us,' instructs Lexilogus 'in 
 the mystery of bias.'^ The identity of Lycion is un- 
 revealed, and Lexilogus, though a Cowperian, was, we 
 are told by FitzGerald himself, not Donne. Later, in 
 answer to some questions of W. F. Pollock's relative 
 to Euphranor and the Calderon translations of 1853, 
 FitzGerald observes, ' 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.' 
 Three of his friends — Spedding, Cowell, and Donne — 
 endeavoured, each in his own way, to bring the merits 
 of the work before the public ; but no great success 
 rewarded their efforts. Even FitzGerald himself speaks 
 of it disparagingly, calling it ' a pretty specimen of 
 chiselled cherry-stone.' But at the time he wrote it he 
 was thoroughly in earnest, and many years after, reflect- 
 ing on the story of Carlyle's youth and early manhood, 
 he says, 'Ah! it is from such training that strength 
 comes, not from luxurious fare, easy-chairs, cigars, Pall 
 
 ^ Bowls was a favourite game at Goldington, Mrs. Browne's father having 
 been one of the best players in England. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 240 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Mall Clubs, etc. It has all made me think of a very 
 little dialogue I once wrote on the matter.' Of the 
 copy of Euphranor which FitzGerald presented to 
 Browne, and which supplied me with the key to that 
 production, I shall have occasion to speak later. 
 While FitzGerald was publishing Euphranor^ Carlyle 
 was finishing his delicate and delightful Life of Sterlings 
 and pondering the advisability of undertaking the Life 
 of Frederick the Great. Years later (23rd October 1870), 
 FitzGera ld spoke th us pleasantl y ot to"ur of Carlyle's 
 w orks :_ ^ Hero- Worship— \ seemed to hear you talking 
 to me ... in that lecture-room.^ Sterling's Life talks 
 to me also ; and so does Cromwell, and the old monk of 
 St. Edmunds [Past and Present^ — they all do ; but these 
 perhaps most agreeably to me.' 
 
 FitzGerald, who had used his eyes injudiciously, sitting 
 up till midnight reading by a paraffin lamp, now found 
 
 Aif d ^^^^ they were giving him trouble ; so in 
 Smith, Bouige order to save them, he hit on the expedient 
 Kea er. ^^ having a boy reader. His choice (not a 
 
 difficult choice, since there was no one else available) 
 fell on Mr. Job Smith's son Alfred, from that snug 
 Hall Farm. Alfred, now grown a big lad, did not 
 much care about the occupation (found it slow, indeed, 
 compared with bird's-nesting and tearing his knicker- 
 bockers), but FitzGerald liked him, and, as the lad loved 
 FitzGerald, everything went pleasantly. Alfred also took 
 to FitzGerald's Skye terrier 'Ginger,' 'whose eyes you 
 couldn't see owing to his long hair ' — the successor of 
 ' Bletsoe ' ; and he honoured old John Faire as the man 
 who had fought against, and afterwards kept an eye on, 
 Napoleon. Mrs. Faire (notwithstanding her gay bonnet) 
 was his abhorrence. He ' never could enjoy his tea 
 
 1 Edward Street, Portman Square ; May 1838.
 
 E. B. COWELL 241 
 
 there, she took snuff so.' Sometimes FitzGerald carried 
 his young friend up to London to see the sights and to eat 
 suppers at Evans's,^ treating him 'more like a nephew 
 than "an acquaintance ' ; for, lonely man, * he was full of 
 love, and yearned for some one on whom to bestow it.' 
 FitzGerald's object in having Alfred Smith at Boulge 
 Cottage was perhaps as much to do the boy good and 
 help him with his education as anything else — at least, 
 so Alfred himself believed. The talk was chiefly abou/ 
 the books they read.^ FitzGerald was much interested iL 
 cremation, of which he was one of the earliest thorough- 
 going advocates in England ; and he frequently inveighed 
 against the follies of vaults, brick graves, and lead coffins, 
 and insisted that no method of disposal of the bodies of 
 the dead could compare with that of burning. He advo- 
 cated it for two reasons : first from a sanitary point of 
 view ; and secondly, because it would do away with the 
 horror of being buried alive, of which he himself was 
 always in dread. 'Better far,' he said, 'be reduced in a 
 few moments to ashes than run such a terrible risk.' On 
 this subject he would dilate all through life, and most of 
 his friends have heard him express himself forcibly on it. 
 
 Meanwhile things were fast going wrong at the Man- 
 chester colliery. The elder FitzGerald had hazarded his 
 all, and Squire Jenny had put into the con- ^o r 1^ 
 cern something like ;i^5o,ooo. For years of FitzGerald's 
 those engines, forcing -pumps, ventilating ^ "' 
 shafts, chimneys, blind pits, cages, and what not, had 
 been to those two unfortunate and unhappy men an 
 incubus and a horrible nightmare, — still success had for 
 
 ^ Concert and dining-rooms, Covent Garden. See Cassell's Old and New 
 London, vol. iii. p. 252. 
 
 '■^ The information on this subject was furnished me by Mr. Alfred Smith, 
 with whom I spent several days at Lowestoft in October 1902.
 
 242 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 some time seemed possible. But matters went from bad 
 to worse, — what the particulars were, or what was the 
 immediate cause of the collapse, does not concern this 
 history. It is enough for us to know that the crash 
 came, and to imagine the effect of it not only on the 
 * blundering Irishman ' who brought it about, but also 
 on his family, the wretched Squire Jenny and his poor 
 parsimonious sister Anne (now with much need of her 
 parsimony), who fared worst of all. A chariot ' with 
 daffodil wheels ' (window open for fresh air) drove one 
 morning wildly into Playford and stopped at the door 
 of Mr. Arthur Biddell. It was Squire Jenny's. The 
 old gentleman rushed into the house crying, * Biddell, 
 I want your advice. I 'm in a devil of a mess ! I 'm 
 ruined ! ' And he said but the truth. Everything was 
 swallowed up in that relentless vortex. FitzGerald's 
 father was terribly troubled ; he felt for himself, and he 
 felt for the poor friend whom he had dragged down with 
 him. It was the death of both. A few months more 
 and each was in his grave. Mrs. FitzGerald's property 
 was safe, but everything else had to come to the hammer. 
 The sale at the Hall lasted six days. Of this period of 
 stress and strain Edward says little, but he felt deeply. 
 Perhaps he grieved most for Squire Jenny. Owing to 
 the serious reduction in his income (his allowance from 
 his father having, of course, suddenly ceased), he now 
 called on Miss Barton in order to discuss their future. 
 After weighing a good deal of conflicting evidence, I 
 have come to the conclusion that what took place was 
 this : FitzGerald said to Miss Barton, *■ I have promised 
 to see that you shall never want, and I hope, in spite of 
 our misfortune, to keep that promise.' Miss Barton 
 pointed out that she had taken it for granted that there 
 was an engagement between them. ' You misunderstood
 
 E. B. COWELL 
 
 243 
 
 me,' said FitzGerald, 'and I am glad now I never 
 intended an engagement, for my present poverty would 
 make it imperative that I should give you permission to 
 release yourself.' 'I have no wish to be released,' 
 replied Miss Barton, 'the change in your circumstances 
 makes no difference to me.'^ 
 
 Misfortunes never come singly, and during the sale. 
 Hall Farm (Mr. Job Smith's house) caught fire and was 
 burned to the ground. The Hall being empty, Mr. Smith 
 and his family (including Alfred, the reader) came to 
 reside there, and stayed about two years. Among their 
 visitors was Miss Anna Biddell (daughter of Mr. Arthur 
 Bidden of Playford and that Mrs. Biddell who wrote 
 verses and entertained the wits and poets of Suffolk). 
 FitzGerald used to say that he had three Annies: 'the tall 
 Annie,' Miss Anna Biddell; 'the other tip-top Annie,' 
 Annie Thackeray, now Mrs. Ritchie; and 'the short 
 Annie,' Miss Annie Kerrich. Anna Biddell and her 
 brother Herman presently became FitzGerald's intimate 
 friends. So Hall Farm and its thatch, and that cosy 
 chimney-nook where Sir Robert Peel's speeches had been 
 read, all going up in flame and smoke was not entirely 
 a misfortune. 
 
 Squire Jenny, whose health had been shattered by the 
 Pendleton colliery failure, was now nearing his end, and 
 FitzGerald, who was at this time much from ^ ^^ ,^ , 
 
 79. Death of 
 
 home, wrote frequently to inquire after him. Squire Jenny, 
 When Mrs. Maude of Hasketon 2 asked the '^^'' 
 Squire whether he was going to 'the Great Exhibition,' 
 
 ^ Said Mr. Herman Biddell to me : ' They were engaged in Barton's life- 
 time, and when FitzGerald's father became bankrupt, FitzGerald, who for a 
 time was in poverty, asked Miss Barton to release him, but she refused. On 
 the other hand, there is evidence to show that FitzGerald did not consider 
 himself engaged to Miss Barton at this time.' 
 
 - Wife of the Rev. Thomas Maude.
 
 244 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 he said * No. The Illustrated London News will tell me 
 all I want to know.' Contrary to advice, however, and 
 exhibiting his natural bias to the end, he attended the 
 Newmarket Meeting in the first week in July, and there 
 caught a chill. On his return, passing through a hay- 
 field at Hasketon, he said, ' I shall never see the hay put 
 in cocks again,' and a few days later he was dead. The 
 gospel of the open window did not, however, with his 
 departure, cease to be preached in Suffolk ; his disciple (in 
 that respect) Edward FitzGerald continued the propaganda 
 both by practice and precept. As every one had ex- 
 pected. Squire Jenny's estate was found to be hopelessly 
 involved, and in order to pay expenses the magnificent 
 woods that had been FitzGerald's terror as a child and 
 his delight as a man, were cut down — a loss always 
 deplored. The famous hampers in the attic were opened, 
 and there sure enough was the antique china, and in 
 abundance, but all broken to fragments. And so ends 
 the melancholy history of the poor, jovial, old horsy 
 Squire.^ His sister, who survived him, lapsed into 
 second childishness, but found her chief pleasure, as 
 aforetime, in hoarding up whatever money she could get 
 — amusing herself towards the last by rubbing the coins 
 to keep them bright. 
 
 Some time this year FitzGerald invited Fanny Kemble^ 
 
 to be his guest, and to give a reading at Wood- 
 
 bridg-e. Very anxious that the occasion 
 
 80, Fanny ^ ^ 
 
 Kembieat should be a success, and that Woodbridge 
 yf.°°^Jl"'^f^- and neighbourhood should show to advan- 
 
 Miss Maude. '^^ 
 
 tage, FitzGerald called on his friends and 
 told them their duty. Among these was the Rev. 
 
 ^ There is a stained glass window to him in Hasketon church. 
 
 "^ She went to America in 1832, married in 1834 Mr. Pierce Butler, a 
 southern planter, and was divorced from him in 1848, when she resumed her 
 maiden name.
 
 E. B. COWELL 245 
 
 Thomas Maude of Hasketon. * Mrs. Kemble — the great 
 Fanny Kemble,' said he, 'is coming to Woodbridge. 
 Now, you must put on all your finery, all your jewels, 
 and come to hear her.' Whereupon Mr. Maude's little 
 daughter Cordelia^ spoke up promptly: ' I haven't a jewel 
 in the world ; but you have a ring ' (pointing to a gold 
 ring with a square emerald which he was wearing). 
 * Lend it to me.' 
 
 ' Well,' he replied, ' I won't lend you the ring : I '11 give 
 it you, as your very own.' Cordelia seized it with an 
 exclamation of delight, and dashed upstairs, fearful lest 
 he should repent of his rashness and want it back again. 
 
 The room chosen for the readings was the Lecture- 
 Hall near St. John's Church. There was a crowded 
 audience, and when Mrs. Kemble came on the platform 
 and curtsied, FitzGerald got up and bowed to her.^ 
 His example being immediately followed by the whole 
 room, she was not a little surprised, amused, and 
 confused. Then — something still more wonderful for so 
 shy a man — he mounted the platform, and in a few 
 graceful words introduced her to the audience. Needless 
 to say, the readings were received with intense delight, 
 and her singing of ' Oh dear! what can the matter be?' 
 was never forgotten. 
 
 The next time FitzGerald was at Hasketon he said to 
 Cordelia Maude, ' How about that ring?' 
 
 'It's quite safe, thank you,' replied the young lady, 
 showing it on her finger, but not going too near him. 
 
 ' Don't sell it,' said FitzGerald gravely, 'and don't give 
 it away. But you may pawn it.' 
 
 On one occasion at Hasketon he spoke eulogistically 
 of Vanity Fair, and asked Mrs. Maude whether she 
 
 ^ She married Colonel Barlow of Hasketon. 
 
 * See Further Records, by Francis A. Kemble, vol. ii. p. i66.
 
 246 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 had read it. 'Oh, no,' she replied, 'I should not care 
 for it.' 
 
 * I will send it over, if you like to try it ' ; then to 
 Cordelia, 'You're much too young to read it.' This 
 excited the young lady's curiosity, and she and her 
 brother set off to Boulge Cottage, found the book, and 
 carried it off. Having discovered his loss, FitzGerald 
 promptly made his way back to Hasketon, and after 
 speaking to the culprit with much severity, and 
 thoroughly frightening her, concluded his remarks 
 with : ' If you had asked me, I would have promised 
 to lend you the book when you were old enough.' To 
 Cordelia Maude, FitzGerald paid what was in his lips a 
 glowing compliment. He said that she never grew to be 
 a woman. Like his friend Browne, she remained ever 
 youthful, with all youth's beautiful characteristics (and a 
 few — a very few — of its faults). Had he written a 
 Euphranor for young women, she might have stood in 
 the foreground, not as Phidippus, but Phidippa — a type 
 of beautiful and practical, if impulsive, womanhood. 
 
 In February 1852 FitzGerald paid a long-promised visit 
 to Prees Vicarage, near Shrewsbury, to see Archdeacon 
 Allen, though he dreaded the journey, and 
 Archdeacon said that Mr. Churchyard's son Tom made 
 F^b"' 8 ^^^^ ^"^^ about a prospective journey to New 
 Zealand.^ Archdeacon Allen was one of those 
 noble-minded men who are at once the pride of the church 
 and the delight of all who come into touch with them. 
 No man feared God more or man less. He lived with 
 God. Sin was sin to him ; there was no palliating it. 
 The ' mockery of drunkenness ' in Dickens's novels was 
 'terrible to him.' From his house could be seen most 
 
 ^ In the letters FitzGerald by mistake says 'America.' Thomas Churchyard 
 died in New Zealand about ten years ago.
 
 E. B. COWELL 247 
 
 of the nearer Welsh hills in a hood of haze ; he knew all 
 their names and would point them out. Beautiful scenery 
 entranced him. Before such he would sometimes stand with 
 uncovered head in silence, 'as if in the presence of God.' 
 He was not blind to his own imperfections, but comforted 
 himself with a saying of his own, ' The road to heaven is 
 made up of resolutions made, broken, and renewed.' 
 
 His hair, formerly raven black, was now turning grey ; 
 presently it became snowy white, contrasting strangely 
 with his shaggy black eyebrows, which retained their 
 original colour. Folios — he was a folio of a man himself 
 (six feet one in boots) — were still his love. Charles Lamb 
 was not more passionately attached to these ' huge arm- 
 fuls.' FitzGerald thoroughly enjoyed his visit, becoming 
 quite popular with the children, especially with a mite 
 of six, whom he dubbed 'Little Ticket,' and he adapted 
 a French play (probably one of Moliere's) for their per- 
 formance. When Allen took duty at a neighbouring 
 village FitzGerald presided at the harmonium, not, 
 however, before gravely requesting the Archdeacon's son 
 to tell the congregation that they would that morning 
 have the privilege of listening to the performance of a 
 distinguished foreigner, Signor Geraldino. FitzGerald 
 also amused himself by making a water-colour sketch of 
 Frees church. ' He had a wonderfully delicate artistic 
 touch in brush and pencil, as in everything else.'^ 
 
 Whilst at Frees, FitzGerald heard of the death of his 
 father, and at once hurried home. The poor man had 
 never held up his head after the colliery crash. 
 
 r , T-, 1 1 82. Death of 
 
 We spoke of the sale at Boulge, but the FitzGeraid's 
 treasures of Naseby and Castle Irwell were ^^^^^^' ^l^^ 
 
 ■' _ March 1852. 
 
 also dispersed, some going for a song — the 
 
 clock, for example, with moving figures, that had been so 
 
 ^ Letter from Allen's daughter, Mrs. Grier, to me, 23rd September 1902.
 
 248 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 familiar an object to Edward's eyes. However, all was 
 now over. The ' blundering Irishman ' had made his last 
 blunder. Sheep-stealers, dishonest stewards, collieries, 
 his own muddling head, were no more to trouble him. 
 Says Edward : * Like poor old Sedley in Thackeray's 
 Vanity Fair, all his coal schemes are at an end. He 
 died after an illness of three weeks, saying "that engine 
 works well " (meaning one of the colliery steam engines), 
 as he lay in the stupor of death.' He was buried at 
 Boulge. 
 
 In June, FitzGerald is at Ham with his mother, revelling 
 in the cheerful Thames scenery, and visiting Strawberry 
 Hill with its Horace Walpole memories, and Hampton 
 Court, the gardens of which pleased him, for he was sure 
 gardens should be formal, and unlike general nature. 
 
 FitzGerald's passion for making commonplace books, 
 paradises, museum books, or whatever he liked to call 
 83. ' Polonius,' them, was now to bear issue in the shape of 
 ^^52. a printed volume, Polonius : A Collection of 
 
 Wise Saws and Modern Instances, with a c hoic ely-written 
 and delightfui,_thoughdj^ointe.d>e f>reface , -gUrTtrng^-with 
 reminiscences of saffron mornings spent with dear friends 
 
 in Bedfordshire and Northamptonshire, and years packed 
 in moments. Polonius (fortunate_^phjLkiSi2^her !) moralises 
 in glorious October amid the fragrance of the yelloA^ trees 
 of Sharnbrook, by the old sundial at Bromham, which 
 bluntly bids him 'Go about your business,' and in the 
 stately gardens of Castle Ash by. Selden, Bacon, New-^ 
 man and others are drawn upon for the body of the book, 
 biu it was upon Carlyle (from whom are no fewer than 
 -«4jiirt y extr acts}^ xKaflft^chiefly b'attehe^dT FitzGeralH^ 
 adxai-FationJorjCarlyle — though he liked none of Carlyle's 
 works as a whole — is, indeed, here made very conspicuous. 
 In the preface he says : ' Carlyle notices, as one of
 
 E. B. COWELL 249 
 
 Goethe's chief gifts, "his emblematic intellect, his never- 
 failing tendency to transform into shape, into life, the 
 feeling that may dwell in him. Everything has form, 
 has visual existence ; the poet's imagination bodies forth 
 the forms of things unseen, and his pen turns them into 
 shape." The same,' adds FitzGerald, 'is especially 
 characteristic of Carlyle himself, who to a figurative 
 genius, like Goethe's, adds a passion which Goethe either 
 had not or chose to suppress, which brands the truth 
 double deep.' Among the thirty passages from Carlyle 
 are several of considerable length, for example : — 
 
 (8) Valour and IMercy ^ (Boswell's Life of fo/mson). 
 (29) Self-Contemplation 2 i^Varnhagen von Ense's Memoirs). 
 (64) Liberty. What is it ? ^ {Past a?id Present). 
 (84) How to write a good book^ {Biography). 
 
 Then, too, he quotes from Carlyle's translation of 
 Wilhelm Meister.^ The following are the titles of some 
 of the other extracts : — 
 
 (51) Old Age. — Goethe is a great instance of a mind growing, 
 growing and putting out fresh leaves to eighty years of life. 
 
 (66) Socrates' Paternoster. — ' O auspicious Pan, . . . grant that 
 I may esteem wisdom the only riches,' etc. 
 
 (70) Imaginary Evils. — Story from Wesley's Journal of the 
 gentleman and the puff of smoke. 
 
 (78) Choice of a Calling. — ' Whatever a man delights in he will 
 do best.' 
 
 (97) Genius. — What is Genius but the faculty of seizing things 
 from right and left, here a bit of marble, there a bit of brass, and 
 breathing life into them ? 
 
 ^ That mercy . . . worthy or unworthy. 
 ^ Finally, we . . . should be avoided. 
 ' Liberty? The true . . . new definitions. 
 * A loving heart ... to light and is. 
 
 ""> ' Fun in the old fiddle,' and ' Each man who has . . . powers,' Book 11. 
 chapter ii.
 
 250 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 (104) ' Love your friend and his foible? 
 
 (112) Have at it, arid have it, and other sayings characteristic of 
 the activity and boldness of our forefathers. 
 
 (118) Solitude. — Be not soHtary, be not idle. 
 
 (132) Tossing the thoughts. — 'A man were better relate himself 
 to a picture or a statue than to suffer his thoughts to pass into 
 smother ' (Bacon). 
 
 The copy of Polo?iius before me is the one presented 
 by FitzGerald to W. Kenworthy Browne. It is beautifully 
 bound in green leather, with the edges gilt and tooled ; 
 and, as an additional illustration to 'Nature and Habit' 
 (92), FitzGerald had pencilled in it the line from Horace 
 {Epistles, i. 10) — 
 
 ' Naturam expellas furca, tamen usque recurret.' ' 
 
 In June 1852 FitzGerald is making his annual visit to 
 Browne at Goldington Hall, and amuses himself by 
 o A. ^ .^ sketching Goldington Green from his bed- 
 
 04. At Oold- . 
 
 ington Hall. room window. ' I never draw now,' he writes 
 wTaWng^' to Frederick Tennyson, * never drew well ; 
 but this may serve to give a hint of poor old 
 dewy England.' In an unpublished letter 2 to Sir Henry 
 Bishop (i8th June 1852) written from Goldington Hall, 
 after saying that he had not an air called 'The old Horse,' 
 and referring to another called 'The old Hen,'^ he 
 observes, ' In talking of words to these English tunes, it 
 seems to me a great pity that when the old original words, 
 or something at all equivalent, is available, your clever 
 coadjutor does not avail himself of them. It struck me 
 as a mistake that so many of the songs (meaning the 
 words) in your present edition ran upon what the Germans 
 
 ^ * Drive out Nature with a fork, still she will return.' 
 
 ^ Now in the British Museum. 
 
 ^ 'The cackling old hen she began to collogue,'— a Suffolk song.
 
 E. B. COWELL 251 
 
 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 a variety of 
 humour, naivete, or pathos, by other than ladies and 
 gentlemen — by country people, soldiers, sportsmen, etc' 
 In respect to the tune of * The king shall enjoy his own 
 again,' FitzGerald thought that instead of its being linked 
 to a new song by Mackay, unsuitable to the rollicking 
 cavalier tune, ' it would have been much better to have 
 retained the humorous and quaint cavalier words — with 
 perhaps a little amendment.' He then speaks of a song 
 called ' The Forester ' with which he had * scarce anything 
 to do.' The words were written to some old tune, and 
 FitzGerald thought they would suit the tune better than 
 ' some aspiration about an evening star, or evening 
 bell, or evening gun, fitted for a modern young lady 
 at a rosewood pianoforte.' He then quotes Goethe, who 
 said that nothing is so hard to make as a modern ballad ; 
 'just because people felt within, instead of simply see- 
 ing without,^ and goes on: '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. The 
 thought should be as simple as possible ; and argu- 
 ment of all kinds avoided. . . . As to polite singers 
 not liking the old words relating to the habits 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 Tree in " Auld Robin Gray" — yes, and even 
 such delicate fooling as "We're a' noddin'" — will not 
 confess that excellent music may be discoursed that 
 way ? ' 
 
 In October, Thackeray sailed for America, but before
 
 252 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 leaving sent FitzGerald a letter teeming with kindnesses 
 that touched him to the quick. 
 
 FitzGerald, who had steadily persevered with his Spanish 
 studies which had been commenced in the cottage at 
 
 c- 131 Bramford, presently found himself attracted 
 
 85* Six Plsys 
 
 ofCaideron by two Spanish authors in particular — Cer- 
 pubiished, 1853. vantes and Calderon ; and by and by he set 
 himself the task of translating six of Calderon's plays 
 into English, namely : The Painter of his own Dishonour^ 
 Keep Your Own Secret^ Gil Perez, Three Judgments at a 
 Blow, The Mayor of Zalamea^ Beware of Smooth Water. 
 They were published in 1853. To this work— ^contrary 
 to his practice — he affixed his name ,^^for th e reasdrt 
 ' that theTtr-Was^'a~~rivat~nr^e held"^^(Denis~Florence 
 
 McCarthy). ft~x^as done in the way which we have 
 noW^-eertie^to look upon as peculiarly his own. While 
 faithfu lly trying to retain Svhat was fi ne_ and effic ient/ 
 he * sank, reduced, altered, and replaced ' much that 
 seemed n ot; and thoughhe apoTogised for taking such 
 liberties with the Spaniard, he pleaded tTiaFTie had^ not 
 meddled with any of his more famous plays,_attempting 
 thus (timid, diffident, and inexperienced man) the im- 
 possible feat of appeasing Zoilus. 
 
 Calderon, the greatest dramatist of Spain, was born 
 in 1600, just five years before Cervantes set Don Quixote 
 bustling. By 161 5, when the second part of Don Quixote 
 appeared, Calderon — only a boy — had written his first 
 play, and thenceforward, year after year, he climbed 
 steadily up the steepy slopes of Parnassus. In Philip iv. 
 of Spain he found a generous Maecenas ; the death of 
 Lope de Vega in 1635 left him w^ithout a rival ; and 
 he lived and wrote right on to his death in 1681, or 
 thereabouts. Those of his plays which FitzGerald trans- 
 lated are bright and pleasant to read — here and there
 
 E. B. COWELL 253 
 
 a mei'ry passage, and here and there _anL__outburst of 
 splendid~poetry, aTi3_one feels_Xhat thc-Jxanslato^ on 
 excellent terms with his author. 
 
 Possibly^hebest of the plays is the Mayor of Zalamea. 
 The sturdy old mayor, whose one idea wa^Tb see justice 
 done, let captain, general, or king fulminate as he might, 
 wins the heart. His grim reply when the king observed 
 of the villain of the piece, ' At least you might have 
 beheaded him as an officer and a gentleman,' is 'Please 
 your majesty, we have so few Hidalgos here about, 
 that our executioner is out of practice at beheading. 
 And this, after all, depends on the dead gentleman's 
 taste : if he don't complain, I don't think any one else 
 need for him.' 
 
 After ' the Mayor ' comes Gil Perez, the hero being 
 a ubiquitous outlaw of the Ro^Roy^order — 
 
 ' Flying from him, it was I fled from home 
 To Portugal ; where the first man I saw 
 Was he I thought I 'd left at Salvatierra : 
 Flying to Andalusia, the first face 
 I saw was his I left in Portugal : 
 Till, rushing homeward in despair, the man 
 I thought I 'd left behind in Andalusia, 
 Met me at once, and having knocked me down 
 Left me for dead.' 
 
 The Painter of his own Dishonour is enlivened with 
 funny^l"rttle~"aiTecdotes, of which the following may serve 
 as specimen : ' A man got suddenly deaf, and seeing the 
 people about him moving their lips, quoth he, "What 
 the devil makes you all dumb?" never thinking for a 
 moment the fault might be in himself.' Mayors, generals, 
 hidalgos, alguazils, robbers, ladies, or kings, we are glad 
 to make their acquaintance by means of FitzGerald's pure 
 and lucent English — English drawn from the crispM 
 streams of Chaucer and the Elizabethans. Calderon's
 
 254 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 thoughts about books in Keep Your Own Secret must 
 have appealed forcibly to the author of Euphranor, who 
 thus renders them — 
 
 ' Books, my friend, 
 Truly are so seductive company. 
 We are apt to sit too long and late with them 
 And drowse our minds in their society' ; 
 
 and yet what interests us most of all in this play is 
 another passage which adumbrates the famous opening 
 stanza of the Omar. Apostrophising the sinking sun, 
 Cassar says — 
 
 ' Another sun shall mount the throne 
 
 When thou art sunk beneath the sea ; 
 From whose efiilgence, as thine own, 
 The affrighted host of stars shall flee} 
 
 It is^JjitejiselyJiiteresting to notice h ow FitzGerald was, 
 unwijlin.gly^_xaQUJ lting toward s his mas terpiec e. His 
 place in life was seeking after him. There is a great- 
 ness about these six translations, but they were destined 
 to be eclipsed by two other and finer plays of Calderon, 
 which FitzGerald was by and by to busy himself upon. 
 The sop thrown to the critics was wasted, for Zoilus, in 
 the shape of the Athenceum, instead of being appeased, 
 attacked the work with so much severity that FitzGerald 
 endeavoured to withdraw it from circulation. Here the 
 psychologist may take notice of the fact that FitzGerald, 
 like most other men, was a repertory of contradictions. 
 T-fe€-4iiQSt_or|ginal and fearless of critics, a man who 
 in respect to the work of others bows to none, never- 
 theliis'Tacitly acknowIedg^"Thp~snpBricrrity of judgment 
 of an anonymous critic whqj_whatever his skill as a 
 linguistL_Jiad7 as his "criticisms clearly show, no more 
 taste or power to appreciate the graces of poetry than 
 the rank and~IiIe~Trf Wood brrdge, whose density their
 
 E. B. COWELL 255 
 
 gifted neighbour has drafted into a proverb. From a 
 FitzGerald one would have expected, ' By God ! 'tis good, 
 and if you like't you may.' But no; directly his own 
 work is at the bar, anybody's judgment is better than 
 his. He confessed as much to Donne. * I rely,' he says, 
 'on my appreciation of what others do, not on what I 
 can do myself.' 
 
 On 25th July 1853 he speaks of going to one of his 
 great ' treats,' namely the assizes at Ipswich, where, says 
 he, ' I shall see little Voltaire Jervis ' (Chief Justice), * and 
 old Parke ' (Baron Parke, afterwards Lord Wensleydale), 
 * who, I trust, will have the gout — he bears it so 
 Christianly.' 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 BOOK IV 
 
 Farlingay 
 Seven Years (1853— November i860)
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 
 
 1853-1S55 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 15. Euphranor, 
 
 16. Salaman and Absal. 
 
 About 1853 Mr. Job Smith removed to Farlingay Hall,^ 
 a farmhouse about half a mile out of Woodbridge, and 
 Boulge Hall became the residence of Fitz- 
 Gerald's brother John. John FitzGerald 
 presently began to make improvements, adding a wing 
 on the east side, dormer windows, and a porch. Like 
 Edward, he had a great dislike to the felling of trees ; 
 consequently the various growths round Boulge Hall 
 became in time so luxuriant that the park was all but 
 screened from view, and the house added to itself the 
 chill and gloom of a monastery. To a friend who sug- 
 gested the axe, he exclaimed with scorn and righteous 
 indignation, suggestive of his old and proud ancestors, 
 the Lords of Kildare, * Do you take me for a timber- 
 merchant?' These sombre groves, however, were the 
 haunt not of monastics but of merry children, whom 
 John liked to see about him, and who looked upon 
 them as made especially for hide-and-seek. Edward, 
 who was the best of friends with his brother (when 
 
 ^ Now a picturesque villa, the residence of Mr. \Y. W, Welton. 
 
 2C9
 
 26o LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 they were apart), but who considered residence near him 
 was not to be dreamt of, now gave up his cottage at 
 the Park gates, and, without deciding on any abode, 
 packed up his effects and sent them, by arrangement 
 with Mr. Smith, to Farlingay Hall, which he soon 
 began to regard as his home. But a more correct 
 term would be 'headquarters,' seeing that during most 
 of the seven years of his connection with Farlingay he 
 led a very nomadic life, spending much of his time with 
 relatives and friends. In a letter to Carlyle, 14th October 
 1854, he says: *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 com- 
 posedly in. My host is 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.'^ He continued 
 to spend many of his evenings in Crabbe's * little old 
 dark' cobblery at Bredfield, regularly comforting his 
 soul with a pipe and 'a. glass of good hot stuff' which 
 derived its finishing-touch from a ' little silver nutmeg 
 grater,' and he would sometimes stay at Bredfield two 
 months together. 
 
 In 1853, influenced by E. B. Cowell, FitzGerald, at 
 the age of forty-four, commenced seriously the study of 
 87, Persian Persian, and had by the next year, with the 
 studies. j^gjp q£ gjj. William Jones's Grammar, made 
 
 sufficient advance to be able to translate some of the 
 extracts from the Persian poets. What a joy it would have 
 been to Sir William Jones,^ the first and one of the most 
 
 ^ Letters, vol. i. p. 294. Quoted by permission of Messrs. Macmillan. 
 2 Sir William Jones, 1746- 1794.
 
 X 
 
 X 
 
 7. 
 

 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 263 
 
 enthusiastic of English Oriental students, could he have 
 peered into the succeeding century and seen the rare fruit 
 produced by his book in the most gifted of his pupils. 
 * From my earliest years,' Jones had written, ' I was 
 charmed with the poetry of the Greeks ; nothing, I then 
 thought, could be more sublime than the odes of Pindar, 
 nothing sweeter than Anacreon, nothing more polished 
 or elegant than the golden remains of Sappho and 
 Simonides ; but when I had tasted the poetry of the 
 Arabs and Persians . . .' There the letter breaks off; 
 the rest is lost. The 'but' remains, however, and had 
 pages more been preserved a stronger impression of his 
 feelings could not have been left. Probably every one, 
 upon first making the acquaintance of Persian poetry, 
 has felt a similar enthusiasm. It is a new ocean, and 
 we stand looking upon it in amazement — like Cortez, 
 silent upon his peak of Darien. 
 
 A word or two must now be said on the subject of 
 Persian history and literature. The earliest myths of 
 Persia are to be found in Firdausi's poem, the Shah- 
 nameh, which records the deeds of the herculean Rustum 
 and his father Zal, both of whom are referred to in Fitz- 
 Gerald's masterpiece — 
 
 ' Let Zal and Rustum bluster as they will.' 
 
 The long line of kings, which included Xerxes and 
 Longimanus, terminated in B.C. 331, when Darius iii. 
 was defeated by Alexander the Great, on whose death 
 (B.C. 323) Persia fell under the rule of the Selcucidae, 
 whose history is that of a perpetual struggle with the 
 Romans. A new era commenced B.C. 226 with the 
 foundation of the illustrious Sassanian dynasty, which 
 included the three mighty monarchs Bahram Gur or
 
 264 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Bahram of the Wild Ass,'^ so called on account of his 
 love for hunting that animal ; Kaikobad the Great, and 
 his son Kaikhosru,^ and terminated in a.d. 641, when 
 the country was subjugated by the Arabs. About this 
 time the ancient language or idiom of Persia, Pehlevi, 
 died out, making way for Parsi ; but though the people 
 forsook the old tongue, the nightingale, according to the 
 pretty fancy of the poet Hafiz, remained faithful to it — a 
 fancy of which FitzGerald made skilful use — 
 
 ' And David's lips are lockt, but in divine 
 High-piping Pehlevi, with "Wine ! wine ! wine ! 
 
 Red wine ! " the nightingale cries to the rose 
 That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine.' 
 
 For many years after the Arab conquest Persia was 
 merely a province of the Baghdad caliphs, and during 
 their supremacy flourished the first great Persian poet — 
 Firdausi (a.d. 950-1020). The year 1028 saw the rise of 
 Mahmud of Guzni,^ who rapidly hewed out for himself 
 a great empire, of which Persia formed a part, and was 
 succeeded by his son, whom the Persians, however, 
 drove from the throne in favour of a sultan of their own 
 nationality — Togrul-Beg. Togrul-Beg was succeeded in 
 1063 by his nephew, Alp-Arslan, and Alp-Arslan by his 
 son, the magnificent and prosperous Malik Shah. As 
 early as 815 the influence of the famous sect who called 
 themselves Sufis, and their creed Sufism, had already 
 become noticeable. The Sufis held that God alone 
 exists, all things in Nature being a part of Him, and 
 
 ^ 'And Bahram, that great Hunter— the Wild Ass 
 
 Stamps o'er his grave, but cannot break his sleep.' — Omar, q. i8. 
 - ' What have we to do 
 
 With Kaikobad the Great, or Kaikhosru? ' — Omar, q. lo. 
 ' 'And peace to Mahmud on his golden throne.' — Otnar, q. rr. 
 'The mighty Mahmud, Allah-breathing Lord.' — Omar, q. 60.
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 265 
 
 that the only heaven and hell are those which exist in 
 men's minds — 
 
 ' I sent my soul through the Invisible 
 Some letter of that After-life to spell : 
 
 And by and by my soul returned to me, 
 And answered, " I myself am Heaven and Hell.'"^ 
 
 Broadly, they believed that by strict life, study, and 
 development the Sufi could become actually God, and 
 religion remained no longer necessary to him ; while 
 others who failed to win that perfection in this life would 
 attain it in states of transmigration. Thus all would 
 finally be absorbed in the Deity. Sufism gave birth to 
 a whole galaxy of poets, who in allegory and voluptuous 
 verse, the burden of which was wine and women, ' repre- 
 sented the mystery of divine love and the union of the 
 soul with God.' How much was allegory and how much 
 appetite, every reader must decide for himself. Of the 
 so-called Sufi poets, none of whom adhered strictly to 
 the creed, the greatest are Omar Khayyam — though 
 whether he was a Sufi or not will always be a matter of 
 dispute — (born about 1050) ; Attar (born 1216) ; Jelaledin, 
 author of the Mesnavi (i 207-1 273) ; Sadi (i 184-1292); 
 Hafiz (?-i388), and Jami^ (1419-1492). 
 
 While FitzGerald was studying Persian with Cowell, 
 Carlyle was constructing that forbidding aerial grave 
 which he called his ' sound-proof room ' at the top of his 
 house in Cheyne Row. One elected to work among 
 flowers and bees and country sights and sounds, the other 
 in the chilliness and ugliness of an elevated pit. 
 
 Some years previous, as we have seen, E. B. Cowell 
 had translated several of the Odes of Hafiz (published in 
 1854), and to these, to the selections from Hafiz in Sir 
 William Jones's Grammar^ and to Eastwick's translation 
 
 ^ Omar, q. 66. ^ Pronounced Jarmy.
 
 266 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 of the Giilistan of Sadi, which FitzGerald had also care- 
 fully studied, may be traced some of the ideas which 
 „„ ,^ , he subsequently used in his rendering of the 
 
 88, 'Salaman -i y o 
 
 andAbsai' Riibaiyat. From Hafiz came the present- 
 published, 1856. ^^^^ ^^ ^^^ j^gj^y amusing himself behind the 
 
 veil by contriving the drama of life ; in Hafiz, too, there 
 are parallels to the lines about Kaikobad and Kaikhosru, 
 the morning draught at the door of the tavern, the cara- 
 vanserai with its two portals, and the ' cypress-slender 
 minister of wine.' The influence of Sadi, too, though 
 less evident, may be traced. Presently FitzGerald was 
 drawn to jajnj, and took upon himself to translate the 
 beautiful allegory of Salaman and Absal, which he 
 finished under a tree in the garden of Bredfield Vicar- 
 age. Jami, who lived chiefly at Herat, is remembered 
 on account of three works : the exquisite Ynssuf and 
 Zideika (Joseph and Potiphar's wife),^ the Beharista7t, and 
 Salaman andAbsai — the last a product of his old age. 
 FitzGerald's rendering is beautiful in the extreme. The 
 story is one of a Shah who teased Allah for a son. A 
 shrewd sage tried to dissuade him both from making him- 
 self the captive of a woman and from supplicating for 
 what would probably prove a bane. Of woman, indeed, 
 the sage had but a mean opinion. Says he — 
 
 ' Deck her with jewel thick as night with star ; 
 Pamper her appetite with houri fruit 
 Of Paradise, and fill her jewelled cup 
 From the green-mantled Prophet's well of Life — 
 One little twist of temper — all your cost 
 Goes all for nothing.' 
 
 ^ Some idea of this poem can be got from the extracts given in Persian 
 Love-Songs, a charming volume of the Bibelot Series, published by Gay and 
 Bird. Jami makes Yussuf, after the lapse of some years, marry Zuleika, admit 
 that he had always loved her, and say exquisitely — 
 
 ' I would not passion's victim be, 
 And turned from sin — but not from thee."
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 267 
 
 The Shah, however, continued to pester Heaven with 
 his prayers, and at last the child came. As nurse for it 
 they chose a girl — for she was but a girl — named Absal — 
 
 ' So young, the opening roses of her breast 
 But just had budded to an infant's lip ; 
 So beautiful, as from the silver line 
 Dividing the musk-harvest of her hair 
 Down to her foot that trampled crowns of kings, 
 A moon of beauty full.' 
 
 She loved the babe, but, alas ! when he grew older she 
 loved too the boy and the man, and exhausted every 
 feminine artifice to ensnare his affection — 
 
 ' Thus by innumerable witcheries 
 She went about soliciting his eyes.' 
 
 And she succeeded — so well, indeed, that when his father 
 discovered their passion, Salaman, rather than be told, 
 fled with her to a lovely island — and Salaman's Isle is 
 surely one of the most seductive spots in faery — the 
 home of green parrot, jewelled peacock, Iran-lovely 
 roses, and mellifluous nightingales. Here, hand in hand, 
 they gathered fruit from loaded trees, drank from limpid 
 fountains, reclined under leafy branches, and ' sang divi- 
 sions with the nightingale ' — 
 
 ' There was the rose without a thorn, and there 
 The Treasure, and no serpent to beware — 
 Oh think of such a Mistress at your side 
 In such a solitude, and none to chide !' 
 
 Salaman, much against his will, was ultimately induced 
 to forsake his love by a sage of his father's court ; but 
 do what he would, Absal still reigned in his breast, and 
 he fled with her again — this time not to an island, but 
 to the Wilderness of Desolation, where they had deter- 
 mined to die together. Having constructed a pyre of 
 sere wood, he with his torch set it roaring, and the lovers,
 
 268 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 hand in hand, sprang into the central flame, exulting. 
 But the sage 
 
 ' In secret all had ordered ; and the flame 
 Directed by his self-fulfilling will 
 Devouring her to ashes, left untouched 
 Salaman — all the baser metal burn'd. 
 And to itself the authentic gold return'd.' 
 
 The sage finally made the long-silent voice of reason 
 sound in Salaman's soul, and drew him from dwelling 
 on his lost earthly love by telling him of a celestial love — 
 Zuhrah, who presently 
 
 ' Revealed herself 
 In her pure lustre to Salaman's soul. 
 And blotting Absal's image from his breast, 
 There reigned instead.' 
 
 Salaman represents 'The Soul of Man,' Absal 'The 
 sense-adoring body ' ; the flood on which they sailed to 
 the bewitching island, ' the false paradise of sensual 
 passion'; the return of Salaman, 'the return of the lost 
 soul to its true parentage, and back from carnal error 
 looking up repentant to his intellectual right.' The 
 distraction of the prince, and his second flight, and the 
 pyre on which he sought to immolate himself — 
 
 'That vi^as the discipline 
 To which the living man himself devotes 
 Till all his sensual dross be scorched away.' 
 
 Zuhrah was the ' Divine Original,' which now that he 
 was divested of the dross of the body, revealed itself in him 
 in all its effulgence. As king and conqueror he mounts 
 the throne, wears the crown of human glory, and finally 
 is absorbed, as the Sufi taught, into the Deity. 
 
 The story is interspersed with anecdotes, ' which have 
 their use as well as humour by way of quaint interlude 
 music between the little acts.' Salaman and Absal was
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 269 
 
 published anonymously in 1856 by Parker and Son, the 
 printers being Messrs. Childs of Bungay. Recalling, 
 subsequently, the delightful hours spent with the Cowells 
 at the time he was translating it, FitzGerald observes, 
 half-humorously, half-seriously, that he had then two to 
 sympathise with him, and that probably his public would 
 be ' nearly as numerous.' 
 
 While Edward was translating Salaman and Absal, 
 his brother John at Boulge was devoting himself with 
 renewed energy to social questions — writing, for example, 
 against the slave-trade as followed in America, several 
 trenchant pamphlets,^ in which, among other things, he 
 urged all Christian men to protest actively by refusing to 
 purchase slave-grown products. 
 
 In the spring of 1854 FitzGerald spent five weeks, five 
 dulcet weeks, 'at Spiers's,' in Oxford, with the Cowells, 
 where, an old canary-coloured sofa to sit on, „ ,„. . , 
 
 ' -^ 89. With the 
 
 cocoa or tea on the table, and Oriel opposite, Coweiisat 
 they studied together Hafiz, Jelaledin, and °ft°3''i;°herj' 
 other delicious Persians. FitzGerald calls 30th January 
 Cowell ' a great scholar, . . . such as I have 
 not hitherto seen at all like from the universities. . . . 
 He deals more in Sanscrit and Oriental literature than 
 in the studies of the place. . . . He is most modest, nay 
 shy, with hidden humour.' 
 
 In March 1854 England and France declared war 
 against Russia, a condition of affairs which affected 
 FitzGerald, from the fact that W. Kenworthy Browne 
 had to leave Bedford ; the Bedfordshire Regiment of 
 Regular Militia, of which Browne was a first-lieutenant, 
 and subsequently a captain, having to do garrison duty 
 at Galway. Whilst in Ireland, Browne wrote a diary, 
 
 ^ Man-Stealing by Proxy, 1850 ; Christian Slaveholders disobedient to 
 Christ, 1854.
 
 270 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 taken up chiefly with observations on farming, which 
 has been preserved ; and under January 1856 he speaks 
 of being at the Imperial Hotel, Dublin, at the windows 
 of which, sixteen years previous, he had *sat with 
 FitzGerald.' 
 
 In May (1854) FitzGerald was in the west country 
 again, visiting his sister Mrs. De Soyres, whom he had 
 scarce seen for six years. He stayed at Bath, where he 
 met the aged poet Landor, and ascended * Vathek's 
 Tower,' erected by Beckford. Back in Suffolk, he sails 
 once more in a newly bought boat on his ' dear old 
 Deben,' in company with Virgil, Juvenal, and Wesley. 
 
 On 30th January 1855 he lost his mother, who retained 
 to the last considerable traces of that beauty which had 
 been her greatest gift. She was buried at Boulge church, 
 where there is a large and ornate monumental tablet to 
 her memory, with a smaller one beside it to her husband, 
 illustrating, as has been sagaciously remarked, ' the pro- 
 portion they bore to each other in life.' ^ John FitzGerald, 
 who succeeded to his mother's estates, resumed a little 
 later,^ * by royal licence, the additional surname and arms 
 of Purcell.' Henceforward in his tracts and other pub- 
 lications he signs himself 'J. F. Purcell FitzGerald,' 
 or * J. F. P. F-G.' — quite an alphabet. 
 
 In March 1855 came the news of the death of the 
 Emperor of Russia, and people began to hope that peace 
 was in sight. Captain Addington at Goldington (sitting 
 among his cats) has no doubt that Mrs. W. K. Browne 
 will be glad to see her husband returned from Ireland, 
 and FitzGerald is quite sure that he (FitzGerald) will be 
 equally glad to meet his old friend 'the bloody warrior,' 
 as he now calls him. 
 
 In the summer of the next year, Carlyle, who had for 
 
 1 Miss Margaret White in The Idler, July 1900. * 1858.
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 271 
 
 eighteen months been toiling at the Frederick, and felt 
 the need of a change, decided to fulfil a promise of 
 many years' standing, and pay a visit to 
 FitzGerald, who just then was continually Fariingay, 8th 
 fluctuating between Bredfield Rectory and to isth August 
 Farlingay. On ist August, Carlyle is told 
 that he will be welcome at either place, and Mrs. Carlyle 
 is begged to say what her husband is to eat, drink, and 
 avoid. Farlingay being decided upon, Mr. Job Smith 
 and FitzGerald made every conceivable preparation for 
 the expected guest, who was promised entire liberty, with 
 room, garden, and time to himself. The 'shrieking, 
 mad,' and to Carlyle 'quite horrible rail operations' 
 terminated at Ipswich, where FitzGerald met him with 
 a trap, and after a look round the town they set out for 
 Farlingay, which they reached late in the afternoon. It 
 was delightful, sunny, autumn weather. When Carlyle 
 got down in a morning he was sure to see ' good Fitz 
 sitting patient on a big block,' a huge tree-stump sown 
 with mignonette. They had walks through pleasant lanes 
 and on quiet country roads. There were drives to Dunwich 
 and the massy ruin of Framlingham Castle. The visit to 
 Aldeburgh, however, pleased Carlyle the best. It took 
 place on a Sunday morning ; and the pony and trap with 
 the strange, uncouth pair — FitzGerald in his scare-crow 
 clothes, and Carlyle with the usual long clay pipe in his 
 mouth— passed the church just as the worshippers were 
 leaving it after morning service. The shocked look on 
 the face of conventionality and 'gigmanity' was entirely 
 to their taste, and furnished them with much laughter. 
 Carlyle found Aldeburgh a ' beautiful, quasi-deserted little 
 sea town,' one of the best bathing-places he had ever 
 seen. ' Nothing can excel the sea — a mile of fine, shingly 
 beach, with patches of smooth sand every here and there ;
 
 272 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 clear water shelving rapidly, deep at all hours ; beach 
 solitary beyond wont, whole town rather solitary,' and he 
 thought Mrs. Carlyle might do worse than pay it a visit. 
 With FitzGerald, 'lonely, shy, kind-hearted man,' the 
 best of landlords, ' who discharged the sacred rites with 
 a kind of Irish zeal and piety,' and did everything except 
 leave his guest well alone, which he did not quite do ; 
 with Mr. Smith, whose dialect was 'almost equal to 
 Nithsdale'; with Parson Crabbe, pink of genial and good- 
 hearted clergymen, Carlyle 'did not fare intolerably.' 
 The only unpleasant occurrence was an adventure of 
 cows, who being natives of Woodbridge, and therefore 
 not literary, had for the author of the French Revolution 
 no more respect than the ' demon fowls ' of Cheyne Row. 
 They raged and lowed incessantly for the better part of a 
 night, nobody could imagine why : the result, ' endless 
 sorrow of poor Fitz,' endless apologies from him and 
 Farmer Smith's household, and finally, banishment of the 
 cows. 
 
 The fields were golden with wheat, and Carlyle spent 
 most of the day under an elm near the house reading up 
 Voltaire, etc., for the Frederick. In the evening he, Fitz- 
 Gerald, Mr. Smith, and Alfred sat indoors and smoked. 
 Carlyle plied Mr. Smith with questions about soils and 
 crops, and he and FitzGerald discussed literature, that 
 ' ass of a column ' at Naseby and its proposed rival. 
 Scraps of Carlyle's conversation have been preserved, and 
 among them his declaration that Burns ought to have 
 been King of England, and George iii. an exciseman. 
 Unlike Tennyson, he spoke little, as FitzGerald noticed, 
 of his own works, but once referred something to * about 
 the time men began to talk of me.' Here and there in 
 the Frederick we detect the presence of FitzGerald, and 
 reminiscences of the talk under the elm at Farlingay.
 
 COPY OF I 111'. I'llOTOGRATH I'kKSENTED IJY CAKI.Vl.K TO 
 ALFRED SMIIH, OCTOBER 1855 
 
 IM..VT]-: xxx.
 
 PERSIAN STUDIES 275 
 
 Speaking of Friedrich Wilhelm's Potsdam regiment of 
 giants, Carlyle says, ' This also seems to me one of the 
 whims of genius — an exaggerated notion to have his 
 stanza polished to the last punctilio of perfection,^ and 
 might be paralleled in the history of poets. '^ And later, 
 when Friedrich Wilhelm gets one hundred and fifty more 
 giants as a present from Peter the Great, ' Invaluable — to 
 a "man of genius" mounted on his hobby ! One's "stanza" 
 can be polished at this rate.'^ The visit terminated on 
 August i8th, when Carlyle, who declined to be shut up in 
 a railway carriage, ' like a great codfish in a hamper,' 
 returned in the Ipswich steamer — ' ugly home voyage ' — 
 to his horrible room at the top of the house in Cheyne 
 Row, whence later he sent FitzGerald a final inscription 
 for that visionary Naseby pillar, and Alfred Smith a 
 photograph of himself. Said Alfred, 'Carlyle 's a big man, 
 no doubt, though I don't know much about him. So I '11 
 put him in a frame ' — which he accordingly did. 
 
 ^ Precisely FitzGerald's way. No one could have been more fastidious, I 
 am sure Carlyle was thinking of FitzGerald when he wrote these words. 
 "■ Frederick, Book iv. ch. iii. 
 ^ lb. ch. vii. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 
 
 In the meantime FitzGerald had become acquainted with 
 the Ruhaiyat oi Omar Khayyam. While studying in the 
 91. Omar Bodleian Library at Oxford, E. B. Cowell had 
 
 Khayyam. stumbled upon a most beautiful Persian manu- 
 script, written on thick yellow paper, with purplish black 
 ink, profusely powdered with gold ; and further examina- 
 tion proved it to be an original copy of the Ruhaiyat^ of 
 Omar Khayyam, with whose works he had previously 
 been unacquainted. Delighted with his discovery, he 
 brought it under the notice of FitzGerald, for whom he 
 subsequently made a transcript. Thenceforward Omar 
 was FitzGerald's constant companion, and after a time we 
 find him busy on his now famous translation, or rather 
 adaptation, of it. 
 
 Omar Khayyam was born at Naishapur, in the middle 
 of the eleventh century, or about the time of the Nor- 
 man conquest of England, his second name, Khayyam 
 — the tentmaker — being derived from his calling. He 
 was placed for instruction under the Imam Mowaffak, 
 and formed a firm friendship with two fellow-pupils, 
 namely Nizam-ul-Mulk and Hasan Ben Sabbah. The 
 three, believing that as they were pupils of so great a 
 man as Mowaffak, one at fewest would attain to fortune, 
 
 ^ Rubaiyat is the plural of Rubai, which signifies a quatrain, or verse of four 
 lines. 
 
 276
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 277 
 
 made a compact that whoever obtained this prize should 
 share it with the others. Nizam rose to greatness, be- 
 coming vizier to the sultan Alp-Arslan, and upon being 
 reminded of the promise of his youth, gave Hasan a snug 
 place in the government, and Omar a handsome yearly- 
 pension. Hasan, after meeting this kindness by plotting 
 against his benefactor and raising an insurrection against 
 the Sultan, ensconced himself in the northern mountains, 
 whence he harried all the country round, and put to death, 
 among others, his old friend Nizam. Omar, on the other 
 hand, lived contentedly at Naishapur, applied himself 
 sedulously to his studies, particularly mathematics and 
 astronomy, basked in the favour of Malik Shah, Alp- 
 Arslan's successor, who employed him with seven other 
 scholars to reform the Calendar, and * became the Sir 
 Isaac Newton of his day.' To Sufism, the prevailing 
 creed, he devoted prolonged study. One day, walking in 
 a garden with a pupil named Nizami, he said, ' My tomb 
 shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses 
 over it.' And so it fell out. Omar died in 1123, and was 
 buried at Naishapur, by a rose garden, and when, years 
 after, Nizami visited the spot, he found that the trees had 
 stretched their boughs over the wall and dropped their 
 blossoms on the tomb. 
 
 As to the result of Omar Khayyam's Sufic studies, 
 opinion is divided. There are two principal theories. 
 The first we will call the FitzGerald theory, ^2. The two 
 not because FitzGerald believed absolutely in Theories, 
 it, but because he leaned to it ; the second the Cowell 
 theory. Professor Cowell having been its chief exponent. 
 According to the FitzGerald theory, Omar Khayyam's 
 Sufic studies had the result of causing him, in the end, to 
 turn with contempt both from the faith and its interpreters, 
 whether ascetic saint or visionary poet. Henceforth he
 
 278 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 was the agnostic, the Sufis were his butt, he was their 
 aversion and dread. According to the Cowell theory, 
 Omar always remained true to Sufism, and his great poem 
 is a diatribe not against the tenets of the Sufis, but 
 against the bigotry of the Mahometans. When I visited 
 Cambridge in November 1901, I was able to hear Pro- 
 fessor Cowell's opinions from his own lips. 
 
 * Are we,' I said, 'to take Omar's words literally, or is 
 there a hidden meaning?' 
 
 'The poem,' he replied, 'is mystical. I am convinced 
 of it. When in India I had many conversations with 
 the Moonshees on the subject, and they were all of this 
 opinion. They ridiculed the idea that the poem is not 
 allegorical.' 
 
 'Omar's laudation of drunkenness,' said I, 'is difficult 
 to explain away.' 
 
 ' By drunkenness,' said Professor Cowell, with a smile, 
 ' is meant " Divine Love. " ' 
 
 ' Then Omar was a Sufi, and not, as some will have it, 
 heterodoxical ? ' 
 
 ' Certainly, Omar was a Sufi.' 
 
 ' But if his laudation of drunkenness is a difficulty, still 
 more must we regret some of the expressions he uses 
 towards the Deity.' 
 
 'They merely illustrate,' observed Professor Cowell, 
 ' Omar's disbelief in the Mahometan heaven and hell. 
 He ridicules the very orthodox Pharisees among the 
 Mahometans with their strict observance of minutiae.' 
 
 'Then,' said I, 'what it all means is this: trouble not 
 your head about the rewards of Heaven or the pains of 
 Hell, as understood by the Mahometans ; do not puzzle 
 your brains about anything ; but live a right life, and 
 trust, never cease to trust, in the goodness of God ? ' 
 
 ' It is so.'
 
 m 
 
 
 ■j' Mu ■ 
 
 
 ' I Is '.CTi Jl' ' ' 
 
 .,, \.HM ^r. 
 
 F'Wil 
 
 '<: I K,vr. 
 
 .|l'..-''i^ 
 
 
 
 K0.^ ''^^^' .'^, 
 
 TOM 15 OF O.MAK KHAVVA.M AT NAISHAl'UR 
 
 PI.ATh wxi
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 281 
 
 * But FitzGerald did not agree with you?' 
 
 ' Sometimes he inclined to this belief, though generally 
 not. He could never quite make up his mind.' 
 
 Having outlined the two cardinal theories as to Omar, 
 we will give an account of the Riibaiyat, reserving con- 
 sideration of FitzGerald's rendering or adaptation for a 
 subsequent chapter. 
 
 The oldest manuscript of Omar's poem is that in the 
 Bodleian Library at Oxford, which was written by the 
 scribe Mahmud Yerbudaki in a.d. 1460 (some 93. omar's 
 three hundred years after Omar's death), and Poem, 
 contains 158 rubaiyat or quatrains. The Calcutta, the 
 Paris, and other manuscripts contain many more 
 quatrains, but it is with the Bodleian MS. that we shall 
 mainly deal, that being the one which inspired FitzGerald's 
 muse. These quatrains, as Mr. Heron-Allen observes, 
 and as a glance at his translation shows, were written not 
 at one time *as components of a consecutive whole,' 
 but at intervals extending over a great part of Omar's life, 
 and collected into their present form, probably after his 
 death. Every quatrain is complete in itself, and the poem 
 must be regarded as a collection of 158 pithy, poetical 
 sayings, put together without Omar's knowledge by some 
 Persian Boswell. They represent the poet in many 
 moods. He is always poetical, generally reasonable, 
 sometimes altogether unreasonable,"^ and occasionally, if 
 we accept the agnostic theory, even presumptuous and 
 hlasph.emous^ There "isXonsWefabTe repetition, and he is 
 frequently inconsistent. 
 
 One of the most fascinating features of the Riibaiyat is 
 the vivid presentment it gives of Omar himself. We 
 seem to know the roistering old sinner as if 94. Omar's 
 we had sat and taken a bite and a sup with Personality, 
 him on the edge of the wilderness ; whereas, in com-
 
 282 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 parison, Hafiz, Jami, Attar, and the rest are only shadows. 
 Like Byron, he appears everywhere through his verse. A 
 compound of Anacreon, Koheleth, Voltaire, and Villon, 
 he is, nevertheless, the milk of human kindness — having 
 ' engrafted,' to use his own expression, 'the leaf of love 
 upon his heart.' ' So far,' he says, 'as in thee lies, cause 
 no pain to any one.' His creed is his goblet, his Koran 
 the text round its brim. We see him, moustached and 
 bearded — he calls himself old — on the drinking-bench 
 of the tavern just outside the town, his outlook a waste 
 relieved only by a ruined furnace ; in the potter's work- 
 shop moralising among the two thousand pots ; or 
 reclined on the edge of the wilderness, with his jug, 
 his loaf, and his book of verses, and ' Heart's Desire ' 
 singing to him — the most picturesque figure in the 
 entrancing gallery of literature. [We refuse to believe 
 that for his aesthetic mind coarse pleasures had a real 
 attraction."! If he is loud in the praise of wine, it must 
 be rose-coloured, musk-scented wine, served by Heart's 
 Desire, who is cypress-slender, beautiful of face and 
 musical of voice. Moreover, the profound scholar, the 
 absorbed philosopher, would scarcely be also the drunken 
 debauchee — the ' Mahometan blackguard.' 
 
 But it may be asked, ' Is not "wine, wine, wine" the 
 constant refrain of the Ruhaiyat'^.'' That is so ; neverthe- 
 less, we are still disposed to repeat that Omar was no 
 debauchee — that, as Charles Lamb would have said, ' It 
 was only his fun ' ; though to get oneself into this frame 
 of mind certainly requires some faith, especially after 
 reading the more outrageous of the quatrains as rendered 
 by Mr. Heron-Allen. For example ; ' A season of roses, 
 and wine and drunken companions — be happy for a 
 moment, for this is life ' ; ^ ' we have returned to our 
 
 1 Heron-Allen, Q. 36.
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 283 
 
 wonted debauch ; . . . wherever the goblet is, there thou 
 mayest see us, our necks stretched out like that of the 
 bottle ' ; ^ ' Khayyam, if thou art drunk with wine, be 
 happy ' ; - ' Let me. be modest about my knowledge, if I 
 recognise any degree higher than drunkenness' ;^ ' Seek 
 me — ye will find me sleeping like a drunkard ' ; * ' Though 
 thy life pass sixty years, do not give up : wherever thou 
 directest thy steps, walk not save when drunk.' ^ Take 
 him literally, then, Omar was a drunkard, a companion 
 of drunkards, and a eulogist of drunkenness. And 
 what shall we say to this : ' Drinking and Kalenderism 
 — that is vagabondism — and erring are best'?^ Or this : 
 ' Drink wine, rob on the highway, and be benevolent'?^ 
 Numerous have been the pleas put forward in Omar's , 
 favour, and it is well to defend him, for, understood j 
 literally, he wants defending very badly. Some imagine 1 
 that irony is intended ; and certainly the excessiveness, 
 the deliriousness of his praise of wine does lend colour 
 to the idea. Had Defoe lived in Persia eight hundred 
 years ago, and did we know as little about his personality 
 and familiars as we do of Omar's, it is possible that The 
 Shortest Way with Dissenters might to-day be setting 
 as many people by the ears as Omar's ' Shortest Way 
 with the Puzzles of Existence.' Under any circumstances, 
 it is pleasanter to be charitable ; nor need we take 
 seriously the random talk about vagabondism. 
 
 We have referred to the attractions of ' Heart's Desire,' 
 *Saki,' * the cypress-slender minister of wine,' as she 
 is variously called, with whom Omar held g^. Heart's 
 dalliance. Indeed, respecting the other sex desire. 
 Omar was much of Gautier's opinion. A woman might 
 be a man, as far as he was concerned, if she was not 
 
 ^ Heron-Allen, Q. 99. 
 
 2 Q. 102. 
 
 3 Q. 121, 
 
 * Q. 132. » Q. 138. 
 
 " Q- 133. 
 
 ' Q. 123
 
 284 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 beautiful. ' Heart's Desire,' besides being cypress-slender, 
 was tulip-cheeked ; through lips that were a rosebud she 
 gave forth nightingale notes ; and she could play de- 
 lightfully on the lute, with fingers as provoking as her 
 mouth. How dainty are some of the verses in which 
 she figures : — 
 
 ^This jug was once a plaintive lover like me, and 
 chased a pretty girl ; this handle is the arm that encircled 
 her neck.' 
 
 Again — 
 
 ' Arise, give me wine, talk is waste of time. Thy little 
 mouth satisfies my needs. Give me wine the colour of 
 thy cheeks ; my penitence is as full of tangles as thy 
 curls.' 
 
 Number 43, the quatrain that suggested FitzGerald's 
 19th, has a deliciousness that FitzGerald did not quite 
 exhaust — 
 
 ' Wherever there are roses or tulips there has been shed 
 the blood of a king ; every violet shoot is a mole that 
 once embellished the cheek of a beauty.' 
 
 For the mole on the cheek of the lovely maid of Shiraz 
 — and all Easterns admire moles — the poet Hafiz would 
 have given two cities. 
 
 Omar was not averse from society, but he really cared 
 only for a few companions, and liked best to meditate 
 alone, unless a jug be company. For the beauties of 
 Nature he had a poet's passion — the blossoms on the 
 bough, the flowers of the plain. Most pleasing to him 
 was the rosebud 'which gathers its skirts round itself,' 
 and the tulip which every morning raised its chalice for 
 the dew of heaven. 
 
 The theory that Omar's quatrains were arranged as 
 we now have them subsequent to his death may explain 
 some of their inconsistencies. In 26 he expresses belief
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 285 
 
 in a future state ; in 35 he tells us that we die as the 
 
 tulips do. In 4 and 91 we are enjoined not to cause pain 
 
 to any one ; in 123 'to turn foot-pad and be ^ ^^ , 
 
 , , 96- The Incon- 
 
 benevolent. In many places he expresses sistendesof 
 his belief in a sort of predestination, yet °™"" 
 by his own showing it lay with himself whether he 
 should or should not kiss the lips of a cup, sun him- 
 self on a river bank, or twist his fingers in Saki's curls. 
 In iig and 125 he praises poverty — under the rag of 
 poverty one is equal to a Sultan — yet he advocates the 
 life bibulous, which poverty would make impossible. 
 In I he hopes for God's mercy, yet in the very next 
 quatrain says, ' Burn me an Thou wilt, or cherish me 
 an Thou wilt.' Here God is lauded, there taxed with 
 injustice, as if He were a mere creature. 
 
 As we have seen, Omar had endeavoured to solve 
 the secrets of existence, to understand the Deity and 
 the ordering of things on earth, but unsuc- omar's 
 
 cessfully. Despite his learning, everything attitude 
 
 . ^ 1 • . ^ , ^, towards God. 
 
 to nim seems m a tangle ; so, partly 
 
 in earnest because he loved wine, partly in despair 
 because a pleasant life was slipping from him and he 
 felt that happiness was to be grasped now if ever, 
 and partly out of contempt for the views of men 
 who, pretending that they understood the working of 
 Providence, knew nothing about it — he tilts the wine- 
 cup, and (in jest, perhaps) elevates drunkenness to a 
 place above the most esteemed virtues. As FitzGerald 
 remarks, ' The spectacle of the old tentmaker pretend- 
 ing sensual pleasure as the serious purpose of life, and 
 diverting himself with speculative problems of Deity, 
 Destiny, Matter and Spirit, Good and Evil, is more 
 apt to inspire sorrow than anger.' Omar comes to the 
 conclusion, as all must who have pondered these matters,
 
 286 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 that it is not necessary to understand them ; where he 
 is at fault is in expressing distrust of the Deity. He 
 is sarcastic and angry because he cannot understand, 
 whereas the only right attitude is recognition that God 
 has withheld certain knowledge from us for a wise pur- 
 pose. Instead, however, of acquiescing in the Divine 
 will, the reasons for which no man can fathom, he 
 takes upon himself to lay upon the Deity the blame 
 for everything that is amiss. Even repentance, he 
 asserts, is useless. As an example, he mentions that he 
 once stole a prayer-mat from a mosque ; he repented, 
 and then went and stole another mat. In fact, he 
 furnished his house with stolen mats, easing his mind 
 every time by repentance. A twinkle lights his eye, 
 certainly, but he is sincere enough in his conclusion, to 
 wit: 'What is the good of repentance? God made me 
 a man of sin. It is all destiny. If any one is to blame, 
 it is God Himself.' Yet he can acknowledge God's 
 mercy and praise Him for giving the juice of the 
 grape ; and occasionally he takes the correct attitude of 
 a creature to a Creator : ' I do not always prevail over 
 my nature. ... I verily believe that Thou wilt gene- 
 rously pardon me, on account of my shame that Thou 
 hast seen what I have done.'^ 
 
 Hitherto we have considered Omar and his work in 
 the light of the FitzGerald theory, the theory that is 
 generally accepted in England and America — assuming 
 that Omar was an opponent of the Sufis and an agnostic 
 — or, as FitzGerald puts it, * a philosopher of scientific 
 insight and ability far beyond that of the age and 
 country he lived in,' whose moderate ambition and 
 moderate wants suggest that although the wine he cele- 
 brates is the juice of the grape, he bragged more than 
 
 1 Q. 109,
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM ' 287 
 
 he drank of it. But then, as we pointed out, there is 
 the other theory, and, regarded in the light of that, 
 Omar's poem falls into quite another category, that to 
 which belongs, for example, the Song of Solomon, in 
 which the Bride and Bridegroom are considered to sym- 
 bolise Christ and His church. Using English eyes, one 
 is apt to be prejudiced, and to look suspiciously on 
 the allegorical interpretation, whether of the Song of 
 Solomon or of Omar ; but the Easterns regard it all 
 as very natural. Flinging aside man-made creeds, 
 Omar trusts himself unreservedly to God's goodness — 
 washing down the misery of the world in the wine of 
 Divine Mercy ; and, leading a benevolent life, is assured 
 that all will be well. The God of the extreme Maho- 
 metans is no God at all, but a mere figment of their 
 own diseased imagination. Moan not for fear of hell, 
 whether in palace, cottage, cell, or synagogue. Be 
 happy. Thou knowest not whence thou camest, thou 
 knowest not whither thou shalt go. Some look for 
 joys of Heaven. I tell you it is Heaven now if you 
 surrender yourself to the loving-kindness of God. God 
 is love ; and Divine love, which I am never weary of 
 glorifying — Divine love, except which there is nought 
 under the sun worth men's serious consideration, that 
 under the figure of the wine-cup I sing, that shall be 
 my theme till I die. Nothing else affords me comfort, 
 and I must dwell upon it until my grateful heart fails 
 to find words capable of expressing its emotion. As 
 for death, why should I fear it? To God I owe my 
 life ; to Him I will surrender it when He bids me. Such 
 is the Omar Khayyam of Professor Cowell and the 
 Eastern interpreters. 
 
 Mr. Heron-Allen is inclined to think that there are 
 wellnigh as many theories respecting Omar as there
 
 288 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 are students of him, for everybody ' reads into the 
 quatrains his own pet philosophy, and interprets him 
 according to his own rehgious views.' . . . * For me,' 
 he continues, 'Omar was at once a transcendental 
 agnostic and an ornamental pessimist, not always 
 supported by the courage of his own opinions, but 
 profoundly imbued with the possible beauty of the 
 present world.' In whatever light we regard him, 
 however, we must treat him as we should any other 
 great author — that is to say, take out of him whatever 
 is beautiful, dainty, inspiring, and cheering, leaving 
 the residuum, and there will be a feast sufficient for 
 any man. As for the remark that readers ' care for^ 
 but one Omar, and his real name is FitzGerald ' — that, if 
 true, says little for the readers' intelligence now that the 
 complete Omar is accessible to all. As well say there 
 is only one Boccaccio that people care for, and his real 
 name is Chaucer. 
 
 Peace having been made with Russia (March 1856), 
 
 Captain W. Kenworthy Browne — ' the bloody warrior ' — 
 
 - _ ... , returned from Ireland, ' doffed his warlike 
 
 98. Goldington ' 
 
 Hall and habiliments,' to use Captain Addington's 
 
 Germany. n • ■, j i • 
 
 liowery expression, and resumed his peace- 
 ful occupations at Goldington, where FitzGerald again 
 visited him. The meeting was a happy one, and Fitz- 
 Gerald made much of his friend's little sons, Elliott and 
 Gerald, often accompanying them on their jaunts, 
 particularly to Captain Addington's. Turnpike Cottage 
 had a gate each side the turnpike, and it was the 
 delight of the young Brownes to take advantage of 
 their friendship with the captain by riding their ponies 
 through his garden and so avoiding the gate-man. In 
 June, FitzGerald, Browne, and the Rev. George Crabbe 
 took a trip together to the Rhine, one of the mementoes
 
 ' rHK 1!I.OOI>\' WAKKIok • 
 
 CAI'TAIN \V. KKNWOKIIIV IlKOWNK AT AI.DKHSIIUT 
 
 I'l.ATli \\.\11.
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 291 
 
 of the journey being a Baedeker's Manual of Conversa- 
 tion^ v^\\h the following in Browne's writing, ' W. K. B., 
 Heidelberg, Monday, June 16, 1856. E. F. G., G. C, 
 and W. K. B.' Of this journey I have been unable to 
 find previous record, and in view of what it must have 
 meant to him, it is singular that his writings contain 
 no reference to it. 
 
 In the meantime Cowell had been appointed Professor 
 of History at the Presidency College, Calcutta, and was 
 making arrangements for departure. To be ^ coweii 
 separated from his friend was to FitzGerald goes to India, 
 
 August 1856. 
 
 a good deal of a wrench. ' Your talk of Reminiscences 
 going to India,' he wrote, * makes my heart of Bramford. 
 hang really heavy at my side.' But Cowell exhorted 
 him to be cheerful, and as a parting gift gave him a 
 book in which he had written the following lines — 
 
 'Thou hidden love of God, whose height, 
 Whose depth unfathomed no man knows, 
 I see from far Thy beauteous light ; 
 
 Inly I sigh for Thy repose ; 
 My soul is sick, nor can it be 
 At rest, till it find rest in Thee.' ^ 
 
 wthjuly 1856. 
 
 Before Cowell's departure, however, the friends met 
 again at the residence of Cowell's mother, Rushmere, 
 near Ipswich. They strolled together in the hay-field 
 in front of the house, and FitzGerald remembered every 
 incident of the day — the men with their hay cromes, 
 the conversation of his friend, the hum of the bees, 
 the fragrance of the hay, his own husky voice — with a 
 sincere, sad, and affectionate interest. It was as a part- 
 ing of lovers. Mr. and Mrs. Cowell sailed for India 
 early in August in the Monarchy the route taken being, 
 
 ' I had this information from Professor Cowell.
 
 292 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 of course, that round the Cape, and they arrived, to 
 use Cowell's own words to me, 'just in time for the 
 horrors of the mutiny.' Among the passengers was a 
 Mr. Astell (now Squire Astell of Old House, Ickwell, 
 Biggleswade), with whom they read Hindustani. 
 
 'Ah, happy days!' writes FitzGerald plaintively, 
 recalling the joys of the cottage at Bramford ; * when 
 shall we three meet again — when dip in that unreturn- 
 ing tide of time and circumstance? In those meadows 
 far from the world, it seemed, as Salaman's Island — 
 before an iron railway broke the heart of that happy 
 valley where gossip was the mill-wheel, and visitors the 
 summer airs that momentarily ruffled the sleepy stream 
 that turned it as they chased one another over to lose 
 themselves in whispers in the copse beyond. On 
 returning — I suppose you remember whose lines they 
 are — 
 
 " When winter skies were tinged with crimson still," 
 
 at such an hour drawing home together for a fireside 
 night of it with ^schylus 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.'^ The expression 'the Towered 
 Crown of Oxford ' had. Professor Cowell told me, a 
 double meaning. It refers both to the Magdalen Tower 
 hard by Cowell's rooms at Oxford, and to the first-class 
 obtained by Cowell in the B.A. examination. At 
 Calcutta, Cowell indulged to the full his appetite for 
 work. From 6 a.m. to 8.30 he read with a Pundit. His 
 mornings were spent at the Sanskrit College, his after- 
 
 ^ FitzGerald's preface to Salaman and AbsaL
 
 PROFESSOR COWKLL 
 
 From a f>lwlot;rnplt hy A. II. ( aile, Ipswich. 
 
 n.A TI-; XXXIII.
 
 OMAR KHAYYAM 295 
 
 noons in lecturing on English Literature ; in vacations he 
 studied Persian with a Moonshee, whom he used also 
 to consult when FitzGerald, who was reading Nizami, 
 applied to him respecting difficulties. 
 
 In matters of art FitzGerald still interested himself, 
 though less than formerly. He speaks with some 
 enthusiasm of a Holy Family on a panel in his posses- 
 sion, which had the inscription, ' Petrus dein gnatis 
 fecit, MDXLViii.,' on a scroll on the left-hand corner. It 
 is 'admirably painted,' and 'the expression of the figures 
 — Virgin, Child, St. Joseph, St. John, and St. Catherine — 
 is very tender.'^ 
 
 ^ Notes and Queries.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 
 4TH NOVEMBER 1856 — MAY 1857 
 
 Bibliography 
 17. Attar's 'Bird Parliament' adapted. 
 
 In October 1856 FitzGerald spent a week at Bury with 
 
 the good, handsome, and accomplished Donne, the 
 
 wittiest of his friends (' You don't know 
 
 TOO .A. wrppK 
 
 at Donne's, Donne's fun yet ') — who, however, could 
 George never take up pen without putting: on the 
 
 Borrow. ^ ^ . 
 
 Quaker. Few men have had more virtues 
 attributed to him than 'our Donne,' though through 
 the snowy marble of his character there zigzagged, 
 according to Fanny Kemble, 'a vein of deep and 
 black malignity,' ^ but we may charitably assume that 
 Mrs. Kemble saw him at some exceptional moment, 
 for he was pre-eminently the amiable, the meek, the 
 uncomplaining man. 
 
 At Donne's FitzGerald met George Borrow, the 
 elephantine, shaggy-browed, stentorian voiced, mysteri- 
 ous author of Lavengro ; linguist, gypsy-lorest, pugilist, 
 naturalist, one of the most picturesque of the genii of 
 the pen. He was fifty-three, comfortably settled, after 
 countless wanderings, with a well-lined widow in a 
 
 ^ Further Records, ii. p. 1 54. 
 296
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 297 
 
 Hereward the Wake sort of retreat — very difficult of 
 access — among the sedges and rushes of Oulton, near 
 Lowestoft. He described himself as a Le Sage in water- 
 colours ; and, indeed, the adventures of Gil Bias were 
 not more varied. Borrow read FitzGerald a long trans- 
 lation which he had made from the Turkish, and 
 FitzGerald lent Borrow Cowell's MS. of Omar. Later, 
 Borrow presented FitzGerald with a copy of The Romany 
 Rye, which FitzGerald liked only in parts, and, more 
 siio, told the author so. As to Borrow personally, 
 FitzGerald was repelled by his masterful manner and 
 uncertain temper, and they did not become very intimate. 
 
 Of the relations between FitzGerald and Lucy Barton 
 we have already spoken at some length. For several 
 years he seems to have been trying to persuade iqi. pitz- 
 himself that marriage, and marriage with Gerald's 
 Lucy Barton, was desirable. For instance, November 
 we may notice that in Polonius (published ^^5^- 
 in 1852) there are two extracts on the subject of marriage, 
 and both recommendatory to that state — one from Carlyle, 
 the other from Bacon. W. Kenworthy Browne, who 
 tried his utmost to prevent the union, declared that 
 FitzGerald was veering towards a precipice, and that 
 nothing could come of such a union but unhappiness. 
 In reply, FitzGerald said that he had given the matter 
 long and serious consideration, and that, moreover, he 
 had pledged his word to take care of Miss Barton. 
 'Give her,' said Browne, 'whatever you like, except 
 your hand. Make her an allowance.' 
 
 'I would cheerfully do so,' replied FitzGerald, 'but 
 then people would talk.' 
 
 * That from you ! ' followed Browne ; '■you, who do not 
 care a straw what anybody says about anything ! ' 
 
 'Nor should I care,' exclaimed FitzGerald; ' but Miss 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 298 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Barton would care a very great deal. It would be 
 cruel.' 
 
 FitzGerald, who very well understood Miss Barton's 
 character, had himself the gravest doubts whether they 
 would be happy together, but he hoped against hope. 
 He admired certain of her qualities, he honoured the 
 memory of her father, he sympathised with her poverty ; 
 he had promised, and she had interpreted that promise 
 in one and only one way, to provide for her. He was 
 not in love ; there was no courting or growing * amorously 
 lean ' on his part. Both were fifty, and Miss Barton was 
 tall, gaunt, and plain. He looked forward simply to the 
 quiet settling down together of two elderly persons who 
 had hitherto been very good friends, and would, he fer- 
 vently hoped, in spite of appearances, continue so. He 
 used to say that he never rejected the advice of a friend 
 without regretting it, and the course he now followed, 
 contrary to Browne's urging, was to furnish his dictum 
 with an additional and the most melancholy illustration. 
 The marriage ceremony took place at All Saints' Church, 
 Chichester, where Miss Barton had friends, on 4th 
 November 1856. The newly married couple resided 
 first at Brighton, and afterwards at 31 Great Portland 
 Street, London ; but a very few days sufficed to reveal 
 that they were totally unfitted for each other. Mrs. 
 FitzGerald's prim, methodical, fussy, masterful nature, 
 and her fondness for society ways — fostered by her resi- 
 dence with the Gurneys (she could see no enjoyment 
 in a dinner unless one dressed for it) — soon discovered 
 themselves. To FitzGerald, careless, disorderly, uncon- 
 ventional, who had for so long followed his own sweet 
 will, punctilious etiquette and fastidious neatness in attire 
 were, above all things, hateful. It was the ' stupid 
 dulness ' of the formal dinner, he used to say, which
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 299 
 
 contributed more than anything else to drive him out 
 of Society. He once said to a friend, alluding to his 
 disagreement with his wife : ' I could not be bothered 
 with all those whims — dressing for this and dressing 
 for the other. I couldn't put up with it.' Then their 
 differences of opinion on the food question did not tend 
 to diminish friction. While FitzGerald was practically 
 a vegetarian, and liked the little meat he did eat ' home 
 done,'^ his wife not only liked meat, but (to his horror) 
 liked it underdone — a feature, in his opinion, almost as 
 bad as cannibalism. That difficulty, however, might have 
 been got over, seeing that meat-eating was not in respect 
 to others regarded as a casus belli; but to exchange the 
 plaid-shawl in which he loved to envelop himself for an 
 evening coat, a stiff collar, and cravat, was not even to 
 be dreamt of. Many women, with a little tact, a little 
 forbearance, and quiet instead of rasping words, could 
 have wound FitzGerald round their finger. A fine 
 opportunity of making a happy marriage was here lost. 
 He was enticeable ; but no woman on earth, or man 
 either, could force him. By considering /u?7i more, and 
 outsiders less — outsiders, too, who counted for nothing — 
 she would have come to her kingdom. Then, too, since 
 his mother's death FitzGerald had been a man of means, 
 and this fact, considering that Mrs. FitzGerald herself 
 had been practically penniless, should have had some 
 weight with her. She, poor woman, could not see things 
 in this light, however. Strong as was her will-power, 
 FitzGerald's was stronger, and, as he once said, he could, 
 had he chosen, have borne down all opposition and made 
 her a slave, but he declined to exercise his power. On 
 the other hand, to give up the hours of his Hfe which 
 was fast ebbing away — and who more conscious than he 
 
 ^ Done thoroughly.
 
 300 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 of the resistless march of time? — to give up the precious 
 hours of his life to formality, conventionality, and fashion, 
 was to him out of all question. His imperious temper 
 often caused him to use wounding words, which, it is 
 but justice to him to observe, he subsequently lamented ; 
 and if she suffered, he also suffered acutely. The early 
 months of a married life are rarely altogether cloudless. 
 There is always a certain amount of disillusion. These 
 months, which so many mistake for paradise, are only the 
 portal of paradise. 
 
 With FitzGerald, all was now sable and sad. His 
 life, despite its tinge of melancholy, had hitherto been 
 a pleasant poem, and it was the charm of his own char- 
 acter in great measure that made it so. The scenes at 
 Tenby, at Bedford, at Boulge Cottage, at Bramford, are 
 as idyllic as anything in Theocritus, and they succeed 
 each other like the changes in a kaleidoscope. Suddenly 
 there is an end to the beautiful phantasmagoria. The 
 spiteful fairy, whom some one had affronted at Fitz- 
 Gerald's birth, interposes her hand between the picture 
 and the light, and life suddenly becomes haggard, dark, 
 and lugubrious. How strange that everybody could love 
 FitzGerald, put up with his peevishness and eccentricities, 
 nay, love him the more for them, except one person — his 
 wife ! Blame neither very much, for Mrs. FitzGerald 
 in her way was kindly. She simply failed to chime with 
 her husband. Instead of attracting, they repelled each 
 other, found each other absolutely unendurable. 
 
 In the middle of December — they had been married only 
 a fortnight — Mrs. FitzGerald went by herself into Norfolk, 
 where she spent five weeks, partly at Mr. Hudson 
 Gurney's, and partly at Geldestone, where her husband 
 joined her, and they looked about for a home. At first 
 they thought of Norwich. *I want my wife,' FitzGerald
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE -,01 
 
 O"- 
 
 had written on January ist, ' to learn all she can of house- 
 keeping, and employ herself in it : I think she is given 
 to profusion, and her hand is out of practice, of course.' 
 Finally they returned to London and took apartments at 
 Portland Terrace, Regent's Park. Recalling old and 
 pleasant days with the Cowells, FitzGerald wrote (January 
 22), ' I believe there are new channels fretted in my 
 cheeks with many unmanly tears since then.' Indeed, he 
 had become utterly miserable. Mrs. FitzGerald either 
 had not the tact or would not take the trouble to make his 
 home agreeable to him, and he pined for his old solitary 
 life. Whilst in London he saw Carlyle once, and Donne, 
 Thackeray, Tennyson, and Spedding, whose first volume 
 of Bacon was out. He showed Tennyson some touching 
 lines written by a poor sailor lad who died at sea — 
 
 ' The sullen waves close o'er him : but there 's not 
 A stone to mark the burial of the brave ; 
 A single bubble bursting marks the spot 
 Where rests the sailor in his sailor's grave,' 
 
 and Tennyson paused * to murmur over that single 
 bursting bubble.' Thackeray, who was also present, 
 ' thought there must have been a hundred bubbles rather 
 than one.' ^ 
 
 FitzGerald's studies continued to be mainly Persian : he 
 goes through Hafiz, Jami, Nizami, and Attar's Mcmtik, 
 the last especially interesting him. The letter of January 
 22nd lately referred to closes with a pathetic passage 
 hinting at the sad home trouble : ' Till I see better how 
 we get on, I dare fix on no place to live or die in. Direct 
 to me at Crabbe's, Bredfield, till you hear further.' Next 
 comes the news of the death of ' Anglo-Saxon Kemblc ' 
 (26th March 1857). ' Poor John ! ' writes his sister 
 
 ' Sea Words and Phrases, No. 2.
 
 302 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Fanny, 'his devotion to his studies was very deep.' His 
 Hfe was not much more successful than the Torrijos 
 expedition.^ A brilliant scholar, given over, to his own 
 hurt, to intense study and 'deep philosophising.' 
 
 In the midst of his troubles FitzGerald occupied himself 
 
 in studying the Persian poet Attar, a manuscript of 
 
 T-^ T,- J . whose Mantik-iit-Tair. or Bird Parliament — 
 
 102. The Birds ' 
 
 'Pilgrim's an exposition of the doctrines of Sufism — he 
 rogress. j^^^ obtained from Mr. Napoleon Newton of 
 
 Hertford ; and presently, by the help of the publications 
 of Garcin de Tassy, he set about the translation, or rather 
 the adaptation, of that poem, for he followed his usual 
 method. By March 20th (1857) he had got twenty pages 
 done, and said, ' It is an amusement to me to take what 
 liberties I like with these Persians.' 
 
 The Mantik — like Jami's Salaman — is a story inter- 
 spersed with anecdotes, in the best of which figures Shah 
 Mahmud — ' the mighty Mahmud ' of the Rubaiyat who 
 scattered before him the misbelieving, black horde of 
 India." It has a number of passages containing thoughts 
 which come up again in FitzGerald's Omar. The story 
 of the poem is briefly as follows : The bird world had 
 assembled on a no less solemn business than to choose a 
 Khalif. The first to speak was Tajidar, the lapwing, who 
 declared that they had a Khalif already, that he knew this 
 Khalif, his whereabouts, and how to reach him, and that . 
 they would know him too, but for the curse of their self- 
 exile, seeing that he is everywhere — among them indeed 
 at the moment. Would they reach their king they must 
 repent of their misdeeds and ^o on pilgrimage by a long, 
 dangerous, and dismal road, up to the mighty mountain 
 Kaf. Some of the audience express a desire to make 
 
 ' Records of a Later Life, vol. iii. p. 150. 
 ^ FitzGerald's Omar, q. 60.
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 303 
 
 this journey, but others object — the pheasant, the night- 
 ingale, and the parrot in particular. The last, a very 
 Omar Khayyam among birds, says — 
 
 '"Some" — and upon the nightingale one eye 
 He leered — "for nothing but the blossom sigh : 
 But I am for the luscious pulp that grows 
 Where, and for which, the blossom only blows : 
 And which so long as the green tree provides 
 What better grows along Kaf's dreary sides ? " ' 
 
 In short, ' take the cash and let the credit go. ' But Tajidar 
 tells him that this life, which he finds so nectareous, 
 is daily slipping away ; and to every other objection he 
 has a suitable answer, the result being that the birds 
 choose him for their king, and resolve to follow him to 
 the mountain. When, however, it comes to starting, the 
 thought of the terrors of the track makes many faint- 
 hearted, and they slink away ; while others, having spent 
 what little strength they had in preparation, cannot 
 muster up enough courage to do anything further. 
 Finally, hov/ever, a goodly host start on this avian 
 ' Pilgrim's Progress,' but more than half turn tail at the 
 first cold snap. Many sit as if stupefied, and some fall 
 behind. The more brave and strong, however, push 
 forward — 
 
 'Yet league by league the road was thicklier spread 
 By the fast falling foliage of the dead.' 
 
 Scorched, frozen, famished, poisoned, slain by beast or 
 
 reptile, thirty only ' desperate draggled things, half-dead, 
 
 with scarce a feather on their wings,' reach the mountain. 
 
 ' Who are you? ' asks the Guardian Angel. And Tajidar 
 
 replies — 
 
 ' We are 
 Those fractionr. of the Sum of Being, far 
 Disspent and foul disfigured, that once more 
 Strike for admission at the Treasury Door.'
 
 304 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 The Angel then flings open the portal — 
 
 ' They were within — they were before the Throne^ 
 
 in a wellnigh insufferable blaze of glory, and in the 
 centre of it is the likeness of Themselves — as it were trans- 
 figured, looking to Themselves. They had returned to 
 the Being of whom they originally formed part. Then a 
 voice is heard — 
 
 'AH you have been, and seen, and done, and thought, 
 Not_y<7z^ but /, have seen and been and wrought : 
 I was the sin that from Myself rebelled, 
 I the remorse that towards Myself compelled. 
 I was the Tajidar who led the track : 
 I was the little briar that pulled you back : 
 Sin and contrition — retribution owed. 
 And cancelled — pilgrim, pilgrimage, and road, 
 Was but Myself toward Myself ; and your 
 Arrival but Myself at my own door.' 
 
 Such is Sufism according to Attar. Whilst holding 
 that Attar had less imagination than Jami, and less depth 
 than Jelaledin, FitzGerald considered his touch lighter 
 than either. Of his stories — which pleased FitzGerald 
 better than Jami's — the best are that of the Shah who 
 rode unmoved through his huzzaing capital, but 
 promptly expressed gratification when the heads of 
 criminals were tossed out of the prison to him ; of 
 Mahmud and the lad fishing, which ends with the 
 couplet — 
 
 ' This is the luck that follows every cast 
 Since o'er my net the Sultan's shadow pass'd' ; 
 
 and that of Mahmud and the Stoker ; but not less 
 memorable are those of the man 
 
 'Who to an idol bowed — as best he knew — 
 Under that false god worshipping the true' ;
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 305 
 
 and of Mahmud who, hesitating to fulfil a vow, referred 
 the matter to a dervise — 
 
 'Who, having listened, said, "The thing is plain : 
 If thou and God should never have again 
 To deal together, rob Him of His share, 
 But if perchance you should — why then, beware !"' 
 
 In one of the stories the Prophet, dipping his lips into a 
 stream, found the water sweet, but the same stream drunk 
 from an earthen pot left by a traveller tasted bitter. To 
 the Prophet's surprised look 
 
 'The vessel's earthen lips with answer ran, 
 The clay that I am made of once was man' — 
 
 a thought that drifted into FitzGerald's Omar. It was 
 a passage in the Mantik which suggested the lovely 
 lines — 
 
 ' Earth could not answer, nor the seas that mourn 
 In flowing purple, of their Lord forlorn' — 
 
 founded on the Eastern belief that the sea and all its 
 denizens are of an inferior nature, bereft of God. It was 
 the Mantik, too, that suggested to FitzGerald the lines 
 about the drum beaten at the Sultan's door, David's song, 
 the False Dawn, and the Eternal Saki. FitzGerald's 
 version of the Mantik was finished in 1859, but not 
 published till after his death. 
 
 In the meantime, the home trouble had gone on from 
 bad to worse. That FitzGerald recognised that he too 
 was blamable is evident from his remark : 
 ' How often I think with sorrow of my many paddockat 
 harshnesses and impatiences ! which are yet Goiding:ton 
 
 , • • , TT , , Hall. Baldock 
 
 more of manner than intention. He longed 'Black Horse.' 
 to see ag-ain his friends the Cowells. To The Separa- 
 
 ° . tion. 
 
 E. B. Cowell he writes, * My wife is sick of 
 
 hearing me sing in a doleful voice the old glee of *' When
 
 3o6 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 shall we three meet again ? " ' He looked back with 
 regret and soft melancholy to the vanished delights of 
 the cottage at Bramford ; recalled the walks with his 
 friends, the monkey-tree, the old mill, the willows by the 
 river, all sacred ; and often sang to himself a verse — a 
 verse with one word altered — from Miss Williams's song 
 * Evan Banks ' — 
 
 ' Oh banks to me for ever dear, 
 Oh stream whose murmur meets my ear, 
 Oh, all my hopes of bliss abide 
 Where Orwell mingles with the tide.' 
 
 Winter passed, and FitzGerald and his wife were still in 
 London. Men went by with great baskets of primroses, 
 crocuses, and other spring flowers, calling as they passed — 
 
 ' Growing, growing, growing, 
 All their glory going ! ' 
 
 — ' some old street cry,' as FitzGerald thought. In April 
 he spent a few days with his brother John at Twicken- 
 ham, where he copied out Omar and sent it to Garcin 
 de Tassy in return for courtesy. On the 21st, as he sat 
 ' on the sunshine of the little balcony ' outside the 
 windows of his house, letters from Professor and Mrs. 
 Cowell were placed in his hands. Says he in replying 
 to Cowell, ' My wife cried a good deal over your wife's 
 letter, I think, I think so. Ah, me ! I would not as yet 
 read it, for I was already sad.' Later, FitzGerald and 
 his wife took a house at Gorleston, near Yarmouth, but 
 amity between them still seemed quite unattainable. On 
 the 1 8th of May he went down to Bedford, that is to say 
 Goldington, to try and forget his troubles in the company 
 of his devoted friend Captain W. Kenworthy Browne, 
 and we now get that charming picture of him lying in 
 the pightle or paddock at the back of Goldington Hall
 
 y. 
 y. 
 y. 
 
 •J. 
 u 
 o 
 
 p 
 o 
 
 55 
 

 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 309 
 
 reading Omar Khayyam. Says he : ' When in Bedford- 
 shire I put away almost all books except Omar Khayyam 
 which I could not help looking over, in a paddock covered 
 with buttercups and brushed by a delicious breeze, while 
 a dainty racing filly of W. Browne's came startling up to 
 wonder and snuff about me.'^ Stirred by the delights of 
 springtide, he turned into monkish Latin the Omar 
 stanza — 
 
 ' Now the New Year reviving old desires, 
 The thoughtful soul to solitude retires, 
 
 Where the White Hand of Moses on the Bough 
 Puts out, and Jesus from the Ground suspires.' 
 
 So he lies there in * the jolly spring weather, in the jolly 
 springtime, when the poplar and lime dishevel their 
 tresses together,' 2 forgetting for the moment the ache at 
 his heart, and revelling in the perfume of Omar. On Oak 
 Apple Day (May 29) he made a journey, probably with 
 Browne, to Baldock, just over the Herts border, in order 
 to see 'The Black Horse,' both mill and hostelry, famous 
 on account of the old song written by a nameless curate 
 about Mary Fitzjohn, the Beauty, who lived there — 
 
 'Who has e'er been at Baldock, must needs know the mill. 
 With the sign of the Horse, at the foot of the hill.' 
 
 It was especially interesting to FitzGerald (whom you 
 could draw all round the country with an old song) on 
 account of the description of a visit to Baldock, which 
 included a sight of the ' rustic Diana ' and a taste of her 
 sugared lip, made by one Percival Stockdale,^ Dr. 
 Johnson's ' Poor Stockey,' a hundred years previous. 
 FitzGerald finds the mill with its scanty stream a little 
 way out of Baldock, but without the sign of the Black 
 
 * Z^//tfr^ (Macmillan). - Euphratior. 
 
 * Who in 1809 published two volumes of autobiography.
 
 3IO LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Horse ; makes his way to the church, on the steeple of 
 which had been hoisted a large oak apple bough, and 
 discovers the tomb of the famous Mary of the song, who, 
 after Stockdale's visit, had married one Henry Leonard. 
 The stone is inscribed : * In Memory of Mary, the wife 
 of Henry Leonard, who died April 26, 1769, aged 43 
 years'- — 'about twelve years,' comments FitzGerald, 
 ' after Stockdale saw and saluted her, rightly guessing 
 that she was then "perhaps above thirty, but yet lovely, 
 fair, and blooming." A little further westward lies her 
 husband, Henry Leonard, "who died April 28, 1802, 
 aged 78 years," buried not by her side, but by that of a 
 second wife, who may have been as good, but whom we 
 will not believe to have been such a beauty, as his first.' 
 ' There are two aquatint engravings of Baldock still 
 extant to attest that she was its most celebrated ornament. 
 One represents the town and the fields adjoining, and 
 "Mr. Fitzjohn " on his horse looking at the country 
 people making hay ; the other print is of the mill itself, 
 with its Black Horse over the gable, and genteel company 
 in hoop and ruffle and cocked hat, politely conversing 
 along the road or fishing in the mill-stream.' So Fitz- 
 Gerald did his little bit of antiquarian research, and on 
 getting back to Goldington wrote a paper on it which 
 was to slumber in his desk twenty-two years before finally 
 getting to press. ^ 
 
 On 5th June he is back at Gorleston watching the 
 vessels going in and out of the river, and sailors walking 
 about with fur caps and their hands in their pockets. 
 Everything that he does reveals an aching heart. A 
 letter of his to Borrow, from whom he was now distant 
 only a few miles, contains some sad lines from the 
 
 * Temple Bar, January 1880 : • Percival Stockdale and Baldock Black 
 Horse.'
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 311 
 
 Persian, in which regret is expressed for a wasted life, 
 'unfulfilled commands' and 'unlawful deeds.' Night 
 after night he walked about on the hills — now built on 
 — behind Gorleston, utterly miserable. He was in a 
 labyrinth from which no one could extricate him ; never 
 in his life had he been so lonely. His heart yearned for 
 some one to administer comfort. He longed for some 
 one to whom he could confide his troubles, but no one 
 came. Years after, he bitterly reproached Fate for pro- 
 ducing no friend at this moment ; and yet, what could 
 any additional friend have done except express sympathy? 
 There was but one way to escape from the labyrinth, 
 namely, to burst in a straight line, heedless of the thorns, 
 through the thickset intervening hedges ; and this he 
 finally decided to do. He resolved upon a separation, 
 and Mrs. FitzGerald (though not without spirited remon- 
 strance) concurred. 'FitzGerald,' observed Mr. Alfred 
 Smith to me, 'acted as he thought in the kindest and 
 most honourable manner, and the separation was carried 
 out with the greatest regard to the happiness of both, and 
 with much liberality.' Mrs. FitzGerald received an ample 
 allowance by deed placed in the hands of trustees, and 
 the ill-sorted pair parted for ever. FitzGerald had broken 
 through his labyrinth, but he was covered with wounds ; 
 the thorns had entered deeply into his flesh. How great 
 a trouble this marriage failure was to him, only those 
 who were in his company at the time (and I have talked 
 with several) could really understand. For long he 
 was thoroughly broken down, absolutely and hopelessly 
 wretched ; but after a time, as we shall see, grief gave 
 place to indifference, the sad to the mildly satirical. 
 
 Mrs. FitzGerald resided first at Hastings, and after- 
 wards at Croydon. Once or twice she attempted to see 
 her husband again, but the gates of his heart were barri-
 
 312 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 caded against her. Some — nay, considerable — affection 
 for him she continued to preserve, for she liked to have 
 his portrait in a little red leather case always near her, 
 and right until his death clung to the hope that they 
 would be reunited. So ends the pitiful story of Fitz- 
 Gerald's six months of married life. For his conduct in 
 separating from his wife he was attacked, by persons who 
 understood neither him nor the circumstances of the case, 
 with viperous virulence ; but though their remarks neces- 
 sarily pained him he made no retort, but quietly and with 
 dignity went his own way. Surely it was better for them 
 to separate than to live together wretchedly — to live, for 
 example, a Colonel and Mrs. Short sort of life. Among 
 those who strongly disapproved of FitzGerald's conduct 
 at this crisis was one of his nearest friends whose affec- 
 tion for him, formerly so marked, from that time 
 perceptibly cooled. Kind letters, indeed, sometimes 
 passed between them, but the old fervour was gone, and 
 they never afterwards met. 
 
 FitzGerald's married life — those six sable months — 
 passed from him like a troubled dream. He fell back 
 
 104 The • Far ^"^^ ^^^ ^^"^ pensive ways and solaced him- 
 niente'iife self again with his books at Farlingay, 
 again. Lowestoft, and Bedford, and his eight good, 
 
 simple, well-bred, industrious, melancholy-flecked nieces 
 at Geldestone, and compiled for his own amusement a 
 Glossary of Suffolk Words and Phrases. 
 
 It was about this time that he made the acquaint- 
 ance of Bernard Quaritch, the well-known bookseller. 
 Ouaritch, who had often seen FitzGerald in his shop, 
 somehow found out his customer's surname, and mala- 
 droitly asked him point-blank whether he was Edward 
 Marlborough FitzGerald (the man with the tarnished 
 reputation). FitzGerald, with acerbity, promptly replied
 
 SIX MONTHS OF WEDDED LIFE 313 
 
 that he was not, giving his correct name ; neverthe- 
 less the acquaintance which commenced so inauspici- 
 ously was renewed, and in time ripened into a sort of 
 friendship. 
 
 In the meantime, Edward's brother John was busy 
 enlarging, mutilating, and adorning (as he called it) 
 Boulge church — building an aisle on the south side, 
 and putting in a new east window. He had often ful- 
 minated against the ' remnants of Romanism ' in 
 Woodbridge church, and he now removed what he 
 considered objectionable features in his own — namely, 
 the wooden angels that formed part of the roof (the 
 church is dedicated to St. Michael and All Angels), 
 and made a ceiling which he covered with unmistakably 
 Protestant dark blue and gold stars. John FitzGerald's 
 extreme Evangelicalism, indeed, sometimes led him into 
 ridiculous absurdities. To denude his church (bare 
 enough before) of the few ornaments left it by the 
 Reformation, to tear down its architectural angels and 
 to hide its fine roof with a ceiling daubed with blue, 
 was foolish enough ; but still more foolish was an argu- 
 ment which he had with the Archbishop of Canterbury 
 relative to the Apocrypha, the whole of which he hated 
 with all the hatred of his narrow-minded nature. 
 Surely, in the light of the jewels scattered up and down 
 its pages, and especially in Ecclesiasticus, the attitude 
 of the Church towards these books as expressed in the 
 sixth article of the Church should satisfy any reasonable 
 man. But John was not satisfied, and the following 
 dialogue took place : — 
 
 J. F. If I were a clergyman and had daily service, could 
 I omit the reading of these books? 
 
 Archbishop. No, sir. 
 
 J. F. Could I from the pulpit explain to the people
 
 314 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 the falsehoods and unsound doctrine contained in these 
 writings? 
 
 Archbishop. No, sir.^ 
 
 J. F. Then I cannot read in the desk what I cannot 
 endorse from the pulpit. 
 
 If John was in an anti-Apocryphal and polemical 
 mood, it was of no avail even to agree with him before 
 he began. He would assume that you were an an- 
 tagonist for the sake of argument, and pour upon your 
 dissimulation all the vials of his wrath — with much 
 sissing, many an amazing action, and an occasional 
 whistle. His virtues, however, more than palliated his 
 weaknesses. Indeed, as his brother said, he was a man 
 one could really love two and three-quarter miles off. 
 
 ^ A better answer would have been, ' It would be a waste of time, sir, 
 in the light of the sixth article. '
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GOLDINGTON 
 
 MAY 1857 — 30TH MARCH 1 859. 
 
 Bibliography 
 
 18. Getttlemati's Magazine, Death of George Crabbe. 
 
 19. Omar Khayyam, ist edition, 15th February 1859. 
 
 In September 1857, just after he had arrived at Golding- 
 ton, FitzGerald heard of the death of his old friend, the 
 Rev. Georg-e Crabbe, vicar of Bredfield ; and ,, .^ , 
 
 ° ' ' 105. Death of 
 
 in his letter to Crabbe's son, George Crabbe George Crabbe 
 the third, he says: 'I feel your father's loss t^^^ Second, 
 more than any I have felt, except Major Moor's, perhaps.' 
 Then follows a pathetic reference to Mrs. FitzGerald : ' I 
 want your sisters so much to go to my wife at Gorleston 
 when they can,' Mrs. FitzGerald being anxious to return to 
 them in that way some of the sympathy they had shown 
 to her during her trouble early in the year. ' I am con- 
 vinced,' continues FitzGerald feelingly, * 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.' ^ 
 FitzGerald reached Bredfield in time to be present at the 
 funeral. Melancholy enough the house seemed with its 
 smell of crape and bombazine, while the friend with whom 
 he had spent so many happy hours lay there still and 
 
 ' More Letters (Macmillan). 
 VOL. I. P
 
 3i6 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 silent, the ' Radiator ' never more to emit rays ; with the 
 people coming in and going out with black about 
 them, ' were it no bigger than that about the soldier's 
 arm,' and vying with each other to do honour to the 
 man who had loved them all, and had believed good of 
 them all, 'except Mary Ann Cuthbert.' Next to the 
 family and FitzGerald, nobody, however, felt the blow more 
 sensibly than the Rev. H. S. Drew.^ The last argument 
 on Infant Baptism had been held, and victory, as at the 
 first, had been claimed by both parties. It was very 
 mournful to pass the battlefields, and visions of poor 
 Crabbe's animated face and revolving hat seemed very 
 real. In the 'cobblery,' the stuffy, smoke-impregnated, 
 little dark study where FitzGerald and Crabbe had so 
 often sat with their pipes, talked and drunk 'something 
 warm,' a partially consumed cheroot w^hich Crabbe, as it 
 seemed, might any moment come and finish, lay in its 
 china ash-pan. The burial took place in a simple manner 
 on the south side of the churchyard, and the descending 
 September sun of one of the finest summers remembered, 
 broke out to fling a farewell beam on the closing grave." 
 The respect in which Crabbe was held by his parishioners 
 is shown by the fact that they ' all ' (including Mary Ann 
 Cuthbert, apparently) subscribed for the purpose of placing 
 to his memory a tablet in the church ; and by the warmth 
 of affection towards him displayed in some anonymous 
 verses^ (grovelling though the language, with its reference 
 to the ' higher classes ') written by one of his humbler 
 admirers. After the death of her father, Miss Caroline 
 Crabbe resided at Stockton, in Wiltshire, or stayed with 
 
 ' The Rev. Heriot Standbanks Drew died at Pettistree, near Woodbridge, 
 31st December 1893, aged eighty-five years. 
 
 ' See notice of Crabbe in the Gentleman'' s Magazine for November 1S57, 
 furnished by FitzGerald. 
 
 * Nine in number.
 
 
 
 
 ./-v« 
 
 ■ nS :,Ji 
 
 > 
 
 y. 
 
 •/. 
 y. 
 
 ■■^:.-- t,4 
 
 y. 
 
 ■J 
 
 ■J
 
 GOLDINGTON 319 
 
 friends at Bradford-on-Avon, where FitzGerald sometimes 
 
 visited her. A letter lies before me written by her to Emma 
 
 Cone of Boulge — who afterwards became wife of William 
 
 Marjoram, of whom we shall speak later — on i ith February 
 
 1858. It is in reference to the death of Mr. Robert 
 
 Knipe Cobbold, of the 'White House,' Bredfield.^ Not 
 
 only does it throw light on the character of one of the 
 
 most interesting persons of the FitzGerald drama, but it 
 
 shows how near the welfare of the people of Bredfield 
 
 was to the hearts of all the Crabbe family. She says : 
 
 * I am very sorry he is taken away, both for the Bredfield 
 
 people and for himself. When people have had a long 
 
 and painful illness, or are very old, they are glad to leave 
 
 the world, but he seemed to be in health and to enjoy 
 
 life. Besides, his life was such a useful one. ... I do 
 
 believe he thought of others before himself. What 
 
 pleasure it gave him to see the children enjoy their treats, 
 
 and we were so glad to think some one was left in the 
 
 place who took an interest in his neighbours and was 
 
 able to help them. But we do not know what is really 
 
 best. He was a God-fearing man, and I trust, with you, 
 
 he is gone to a kind and merciful Father and to a 
 
 Heavenly home.' ^ 
 
 As we have seen, Mr. Robert Elliott of Goldington 
 
 left two children, Robert, and Elizabeth, who was married 
 
 to Mr. W. Kenworthy Browne. Robert, who 
 
 had two children, Harriet and Florence ton Bury, 23rd 
 
 Hannah Maria (now Lady Power), died in September 
 
 ^ ^ '^ 1858. 
 
 1853, his wife in 1854 ; and the children, who 
 
 became wards in Chancery, were handed over to W. 
 
 Kenworthy Browne, who educated them with his own 
 
 family under a governess, the Miss Thompson of Fitz- 
 
 ' Son of the author of Margaret Catchpok. 
 
 - Unpublished letter in the possession of Mrs. William Marjoram.
 
 320 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Gerald's letters. On 23rd September 1858 Browne re- 
 moved from Goldington Hall to Goldington Bury, a 
 larger house in the Queen Anne style, situated a little 
 to the north-east and nearer the church. 
 
 The Bedford Conservatives now wanted Browne to 
 stand for the borough as the second Conservative candi- 
 date, and he agreed to the proposal, though, as the 
 Whigs, led by Mr. George Hurst, presented a formidable 
 front, the fight was expected to be a stout one. In the 
 meantime, he devoted himself with unflagging zeal to 
 his magisterial and other duties. For one thing, he was 
 warmly interested in promoting an alteration of the law 
 relating to the imprisonment of debtors under orders from 
 the county court, a law which had been ' cruelly turned 
 to the oppression of the poor.' 
 
 In January, FitzGerald is at his old lodgings, 88 (to 
 which the number had been changed from 31) Great 
 Portland Street. He had given up his studies, for there 
 was no one (Cowell being in India) to prick the sides of his 
 intent, 'vaulting ambition having long failed to do so.' 
 
 In the Middle Ages superstition regarded any un- 
 usual celestial appearance not only with awe, but as 
 
 an omen of ill, and nothing visited it with 
 107. Death of , , . ^,, 
 
 w. Kenworthy greater concern than a glorious comet. We 
 Browne, 30th are all tinctured with the credulity of our 
 
 March 1859. 
 
 forefathers, and FitzGerald, gazing up at the 
 comet of 1858,^ a transplendent object in the shape of a 
 noble falcon swooping downward with arched neck and 
 lowered head, or a magnificent rocket just burst and 
 on the point of falling, may pardonably have wondered 
 whether the sight portended anything to him — a thought 
 to be no sooner conceived than dismissed as unworthy 
 of even the momentary credence of an intelligent being. 
 
 ^ Donati's.
 
 ':r'H> 
 
 
 "if 
 
 W. KKWVOK mv I'.KOWNK 
 
 yl>l liiljiiiished oil fnitilhi/,' hy SamutI l.aivretue. 
 
 I'l.ATl-; XXXVI.
 
 GOLDINGTON 323 
 
 Yet scarce had the radiance of the celestial visitor 
 vanished before there fell upon him the most crushing 
 blow of his life, namely, the loss of his devoted friend, 
 mentor, and hero, W. Kenworthy Browne. It was the 
 28th of January 1859, and the Elstow Harriers were 
 returning after a day's sport at an easy pace along the 
 road leading from Great Barford to Bedford. Browne, 
 aglow after the exercise — the picture of health — was 
 chatting with a friend as they rode side by side. Dusk 
 was falling, the air nipped, and Ouse, seen through 
 the naked limbs of the trees and its fringe of bleached 
 reeds, crept as leisurely towards the sea as the horsemen 
 in green paced towards Bedford. The dogs were mostly 
 some distance ahead, but some of them having fallen 
 behind, a horseman in front of Browne, turning in his 
 saddle, struck at one of the laggers with his hunting- 
 whip. By accident, the lash flicked the head of Browne's 
 horse, which, without even a moment's warning, reared 
 on its haunches and fell backwards on its rider, crushing 
 him beyond the hope of recovery. At first, indeed, he 
 was thought to be dead. They carried him home to Gold- 
 ington Bury, and managed to get him to his bedroom, 
 that on the first-floor with three windows, on the right 
 as you face the house. Here, 'broken in half, almost,' 
 he lingered in dreadful agony for nearly nine weeks, 
 though death was daily expected. The sorrow in the 
 home we pass over. FitzGcrald, torn with grief, 
 hastened to Goldington, but for long could not be per- 
 mitted to enter the chamber of suffering. 'Then,' says 
 FitzGerald, 'Browne 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 decapitation, almost) 
 above the clothes, and the poor shattered body under-
 
 324 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 neath, lying as it had lain eight weeks.' Tears that 
 he could not wipe away came to his eyes. ' Instead 
 of the light utterance of other days came the slow, pain- 
 ful 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 resolu- 
 tion.'^ The sufferer, looking at FitzGerald 'with his 
 old discrimination,' said one day, ' I suppose you have 
 scarce ever been with a dying person before?' 
 
 It was now Sunday morning, March 27th. Seated 
 in the parlour at Goldington Bury, FitzGerald noticed 
 two books which had been presents from himself. One 
 was the copy, in grey-coloured boards, of Godefridus. 
 He opened it. There was the familiar picture of the 
 two naked horsemen, the first of whom was turning 
 round and flourishing a whip. FitzGerald must have 
 shuddered, for had the figures been clad in hunting- 
 clothes, the picture might have been taken for a delinea- 
 tion of Browne's accident. He read the inscription : 
 ' W. Browne from E. F. G. Sed tu noli deficere : qiiod 
 ille qiiaerit, tu esto.' Then taking a pen, he wrote under 
 it, whilst his poor friend lay dying in the room above, 
 'This book I gave my dear W. K. B. about twenty 
 years ago ; when then believing it, and believing it now^ 
 to contain a character of himself (especially at pp. 89, 
 etc.), though he might be the last to negotiate it as his 
 own likeness. I now think his son [Gerald] cannot do 
 better than read it, with the light his father's example 
 sheds upon it. — Edward FitzGerald, Goldington Bury, 
 Sunday morning, March 27, 1859.' ^ The other book 
 was a copy of his own Eiipliranor, presented by him 
 
 ^ Letters, vol. ii. p. 3. Quoted by permission of Messrs. Macmillan. 
 ^ This book is now in the possession of Captain Gerald Kenworthy Browne, 
 to whom I am indebted for the use of it.
 
 GOLDINGTOX CHURCH 
 
 Proiii a f'holoKrafli hy y. yl . KdH, Esq., Bedford. 
 
 I'l.ATK XXXVII.
 
 GOLDINGTON 327 
 
 to Browne, and in it he wrote : ' 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.'^ 
 
 On the night of 29th March, Browne spoke of Fitz- 
 Gerald, and the next day 'gave up his honest ghost.' 
 FitzGerald's comment on an event that had so deeply 
 affected him is characteristic. ' 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. . . . Poor old Omar has his kind of consola- 
 tion for all these things.' ^ Captain Browne was buried 
 in Goldington churchyard, the service being read by 
 the Rev. William Airy — 'All very quiet and solemn.' 
 A stone with his initials marks his resting-place, and 
 there is a tablet of white marble to his memory in the 
 church. Thus closed one of the most remarkable and 
 picturesque friendships in the history of literature. 
 
 To his dying day FitzGerald treasured in his heart 
 of hearts the recollection of his splendid friend, and the 
 epithet we have used indicates perhaps better than any 
 other the feeling with which he regarded him. 71ie 
 happy days they had spent together at Tenby, Bedford, 
 Goldington, Lowestoft, in Ireland, and in Germany, often 
 recurred to his mind. Browne — Phidippus — my master 
 — was his ideal man, his ideal friend ; and he felt the 
 blow in proportion to his affection and admiration for 
 him. Never again did FitzGerald have the heart to 
 visit Bedford. No more Ouse with doddered willows 
 and sky-parting poplars ; no more fishing, with Sartor 
 
 * Sec chapter ix., section 76. This hook now hclongs to the Rev. K. Ken- 
 worthy Browne, who furnishcl mc with most f>f the information in chapter xiii. 
 ^ Letters.
 
 328 LIFE OF EDWARD FITZGERALD 
 
 Resartus or Selden instead of bait, and a paint-brush 
 instead of rod. Bletsoe, Turvey, Keysoe, Elstow, Gold- 
 ington — adieu ! The music of their names had all de- 
 parted. They were nothing without Browne. ' Samarcand 
 shall see my face no more ! ' Writing to Mrs. W. K. 
 Browne, 25th April 1859,^ FitzGerald says that he takes 
 it for granted that she would not wish him to visit 
 Goldington for some time, and he begs her not to 
 ask him for compliment's sake. He would go, how- 
 ever, if she really desired it. As mementoes, Mrs. 
 Browne sent him her husband's snuff-box, bought seven 
 years previous by FitzGerald in Langham Place, ' the 
 little stick that used to come on visits to London,' and 
 the picture of the Spanish pointer by Stubbs. In 
 memory of Browne, he had the picture put in a very 
 broad black frame. The death of Browne not only 
 spoilt Bedford for FitzGerald, it spoilt London too ; he 
 lost all curiosity about what London had to show. 
 Browne was too much connected with his old taverns 
 and streets not to fling a gloom over all. 
 
 ' Unpublished letter. 
 
 END OF VOL. I.
 
 THE LIFE OF 
 
 EDWARD 
 
 FITZGERALD 
 
 T II O M .V S 
 \\^ R I G H r 
 
 VOLUME I 
 
 Grant Richards
 
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