m 
 
 tra
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 RIVERSIDE
 
 A 
 
 Ci'
 
 LETTERS AND REMAINS 
 
 OP 
 
 AETHUR HUGH CLOUGH
 
 LETTERS Ml) REM.iEN\S 
 
 OP 
 
 ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH 
 
 ' - ♦ 
 
 SOMETIME FELLOW OF OBIEL COLLEGE. OXFOiiP. 
 
 Others, I doubt not. if not we. 
 . The issue of our toil^^ sh;ill sue ; 
 YounK childi-ou feather a.-i thi'ir own 
 The harvest that the dead had sown, 
 The dead forgotten and unknown. 
 
 ron raivATE crnrrr.Arroy onfa'. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 rUINTKl> BY 
 
 BPOTTISWOODE & CO., NEW-STREET SQUARE. 
 
 1865.
 
 P£4459
 
 9? 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 VAC.F. 
 
 CI.OUGH S FAMILY CHILDHOOD IX AMEEICA 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SCHOOL LIFE AND LETTERS 
 
 1 
 
 10 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HIS FAiriLT RETURNS TO ENGLAND BALLIOL SCHOLARSHIP LIFE AT 
 
 OXFOItD 
 
 30 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 BECOLLECTIONS OF PROFESSOE SHAIRP — LETTERS — ELECTED FELLOW OP 
 OEIEL — DF.ATH OF DR. ARNOLD ....... 
 
 48 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 DEATH OF A. H. CLOVGh's YOFNGEST BROTHER DEATH OF HIS FATHER 
 —LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND — RECOLLECTIONS J5Y PROFESSOR SHAIRP 
 . — LETTERS FROM OXFORD 62 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JOITRNET TO NORTH ITALY— LONG VACATION READING-PARTY AT CAS- 
 TLETON BEAEMAR— WRITES THE RETRENCHJIENT PAMPHLET — READING- 
 PARTY AT DRr:MNADROCHET ........ 
 
 82 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAMPHLET ON RETRENCHMENT AT OXFORD 92
 
 VI CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 A. H. CLOUGH GIVES UP HIS TUTORSHIP — GOES TO PAHIS— ACQUAINTAJ^CE 
 
 WITH E3JEHSON — WHITES ' THE BOTHIE ' HESIGNS HIS FELLOWSHIP . 100 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 APPOINTED PRINCIPAL OF UNIVERSITY HALL — VISIT TO EOME— EASTEK 
 
 DAY POEM AND DIPSYCHUS 120 
 
 POEJUS : 
 
 EASTER DAY, 1849 147 
 
 DIPSYCHUS, 1850 .......... 153 
 
 DIPSYCHUS CONTINUED ; A FRAGMENT 206 
 
 EASTER DAY. U 213 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 LETTERS, 1849-1852 . .215 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LEAVES UNIVEKSITY HALL — LETTERS FROM AMERICA, 1852-3 . . 230 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 RETURN TO ENGLAND .4.PPOINTMENT IN EDUCATION OFFICE — LETTERS, 
 
 1853-1860 259 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FAILING HEALTH — HIS MOTHER'S DEATH — VISIT TO SCOTLAND — MALVERN 
 — FRESHWATER — JOURNEY TO GREECE AND CONSTANTINOPLE — AU- 
 
 VEBGNE AND THE PYRENEES JOURNEY TO NORTH ITALY — HIS DEATH 
 
 AT FLORENCE 300
 
 LETTEES AND REMAINS 
 
 OP 
 
 AETHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 CLOUGh's family — CHILDHOOD IN AMERICA. 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clough was born in 1819 at Liverpool. He 
 was the second son of James Butler Clough, of a Welsh 
 family, who trace themselves back to Sir Richard Clough, 
 known as agent at Antwerp to Sir Thomas G-resham. Sir 
 Richard Clough's mother was niece to John Calvin. 
 
 Sir Richard appears to have been a man of consider- 
 able position in his own county of Denbigh. He built two 
 houses, Plas Clough and Bachegraig, about the year 1527. 
 He married first a Dutch lady, by whom he had a son, 
 Richard, who carried on the name, and to whom he be- 
 queathed Plas Clough. He married, secondly, Katharine 
 Tudor, heiress of Berain, and descendant of Marchweithian, 
 lord of the Welsh tribe of Is-aled. She was a relation and 
 ward of Queen Elizabeth, being great-granddaughter of 
 Henry VII. ; and the Queen's consent is mentioned as 
 having been required for her marriage. Sir Richard 
 Clough was her second husband ; and the story is told 
 that he as well as Morris Wynn of Gwydir accompanied 
 her to her first husband's funeral, and that INIorris Wynn 
 when leading her out of church requested the favour of 
 
 B
 
 2 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Chap. I. 
 
 her hand in marriage, to which she answered that she had 
 ah'eady promised it as she went in to Sir Eichard Clough ; 
 but added that should there be any other occasion she 
 would remember him. After the death of Sir Richard, 
 accordingly, she did marry him, and afterwards married, 
 fourthly, Edward Thelwall, of Plas-y-Ward. She is said, 
 however, to have preferred Sir R. Clough to her other hus- 
 bands; and a curious picture of her exists, a companion 
 to a somewhat remarkable one of Eichard Clough, holding 
 a locket containing his ashes in one hand, and resting the 
 other on his skull. 
 
 She left only two daughters by him, one of whom mar- 
 ried a Wynn, and was the ancestress of the family of Lord 
 Newborough, which still possesses Maynau Abbey, given to 
 her by Sir E. Clough. The second daughter, Katherine, 
 married Eoger Salusbury, and received from Sir Eichard 
 the house and property of Bachegraig, which afterwards 
 came into the possession of Mrs. Thrale, her lineal de- 
 scendant. 
 
 The Clough family continued to reside at Plas Clough. 
 In the beginning of the eighteenth century it was repre- 
 sented by Hugh Clough, who had thirteen children, one of 
 whom, called Hkewise Hugh, was Fellow of King's College, 
 Cambridge, and is buried there ; he was a friend of Cowper 
 the poet, and is said to have been something of a poet him- 
 self. Hugh died unmarried ; but three brothers and one 
 sister married, and left numerous families. One of these, 
 Eoger, thirteenth child of Hugh Clough, married Ann 
 Jemima Butler (sister to and co-heiress with the wife of 
 his elder brother Eichard), and had ten children, of whom 
 James Butler Clough was the third. This son, tmlike his 
 family, who seem to have resided constantly in Wales, 
 settled in Liverpool, where he went into trade. There, 
 as we have said, his second son Arthur was born. When 
 Arthur was about four years old, his father migrated to 
 Charleston, and remained there for several years, and
 
 1822,] ARTIIUE HUGH CLOUGII. 3 
 
 Arthur's life till lie went to school was passed there. His 
 sister's remembrances best illustrate this period. 
 
 By Miss A. J. Clough. 
 
 The first distinct remembrance I have of my brother is 
 of his going with me in a carriage to the vessel which was 
 to take us to America. This must have been in the winter 
 of 1822-23, when he was not quite four years old. My 
 next recollection is of our home at Charleston, a large, 
 ugly red brick house near the sea. The lower story was my 
 father's office, and it was close by a wharf where from our 
 windows we could see the vessels l3^ng by and amuse our- 
 selves with watching their movements. 
 
 In the summer of this year (1823) we went to the North, 
 and stayed some time in a boarding-house at New York, 
 and afterwards with some friends who lived on the banks 
 of the Hudson, and had a large and pleasant garden. It 
 was here, I have heard, that Arthur learned to read. In 
 the autumn we returned to Charleston, having: made the 
 passage there and back by sea. 
 
 The two following summers (1824 and 1825) we again 
 visited the North ; both times we went to New York, and 
 the first year on to Albany and Lebanon Springs, and the 
 second time as far as Newport. After our return to Charles- 
 ton in the autumn my father was obliged to go to England, 
 and he took with him my eldest brother Charles, who was old 
 enough to go to school. Arthur and I and my youngest 
 brother George remained in the red brick house at Charles- 
 ton with my mother and a faithful old nurse. My father 
 was absent eleven months. Then Arthur became my mo- 
 ther's constant companion. Though then only just seven, 
 he was already considered as the genius of our family. He 
 was a beautiful boy, with soft silky, almost black hair, and 
 shining dark eyes, and a small delicate mouth, whicli our 
 old nurse was so afraid of spoiling, when he was a baby, 
 
 b2
 
 4 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. I. 
 
 that she insisted on getting a tiny spoon for his special 
 use. 
 
 As I said, Arthur was constantly with my mother, and 
 she poured out the fulness of her heart on him. They 
 read much together, histories, ancient and modern, stories 
 of the Greek heroes, parts of Pope's Odyssey and Iliad, 
 and nmch out of Walter Scott's novels. She talked to him 
 about England, and he learnt to be fond of his own country, 
 and delighted to flourish about a little English flag he 
 had possessed himself of. He also made good progress in 
 French. He was sometimes passionate as a child, though 
 not easily roused ; and he was said to be very determined 
 and obstinate. One trait I distioctly remember, that he 
 would always do things from his own choice, and not 
 merely copy what others were doing. 
 
 In the summer we went down to Sullivan's Island, and 
 lived in a sort of cottage built upon piles. Here we could 
 walk on the shore and gather shells, and we also had a 
 garden. We amused ourselves by watching the steamers 
 and sailing-vessels that came over from Charleston. Some- 
 times we had visits from friends of my father, often bring- 
 ing over letters for my mother; but, on the whole, we lived 
 very quietly, learning our lessons, and looking forward joy- 
 fully to the time of our father's return from England. We 
 went back to Charleston in the autumn. This was a weary 
 time for our dear mother, who was continually expecting 
 and longing for our father's return. We, too, were always 
 on the watch for the first sight of the ship on the bay. 
 One November morning, while we were at our lessons 
 with our mother, there came a hasty ring at the bell. We 
 wanted to look out and see if visitors were coming. We 
 were not fond of visitors, and generally used to run off to 
 our nursery at sight of them, but our mother would not 
 let us peep this time ; we must attend to our lessons, she 
 said ; she was sure it was only a negro man with a mes-
 
 1826.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 5 
 
 sage. And then the door opened and our father was in 
 the room, catching up our mother in his arms, for she was 
 nearly fainting, while we skipped about for joy, and 
 shouted to our mother that she had called our father a 
 negro man. Then came the unpacking of trunks, and all 
 the presents sent to us by our relations in England, and 
 the news of our brother Charles. 
 
 After my father's return it was a very happy time for 
 Arthur. He still went on reading history and poetry with 
 our mother. About this time, I believe, he read with her 
 some cf Robertson's ' Charles V.,' and the struggle in the 
 Netherlands in Watson's ' Philip II. ; ' also the lives of 
 Columbus, Cortez, and Pizarro. He used also to say the 
 Latin grammar to my father in the early morning, and 
 do sums in the office, lying on the piled-up pieces of cotton 
 bagging which were waiting there to be made into sacks 
 for cotton. Here, too, we used to play and tumble about 
 upon the cotton heaps. One of our games was playing at the 
 Swiss Family Eobinson, in which I remember Arthur was 
 always Ernest, because Ernest liked reading and knew so 
 much. In hot weather, Arthur used to lie on his bed in 
 the afternoon, reading the 'Universal Traveller ' and 'Cap- 
 tain Cook's Travels,' in the purchase of which he had one 
 day expended all his savings. They were both full of pic- 
 tures, and he used to tell us that he dreamt of the places 
 he had been reading about. He also used to go out with 
 my father when he had business to do on the wharves 
 and on board the ships, and sat with him and my mother 
 in the evenings and saw the occasional visitors who came 
 in, such as the captains of the merchantmen with whom he 
 had dealings, and heard their stories. 
 
 In the summer of 1827, we again went to Sullivan's 
 Island. It was a pleasant time, especially as we now had 
 our father with us. We lived in a large rambling house, 
 with a pleasant verandah in which we had a swing, and a 
 large garden fenced in with a hedge of yuccas, called there
 
 6 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. I. 
 
 Spanish bayonets. The house had once been an inn, and 
 waSgbuilt in two parts. My father and mother slept in a 
 room over a great billiard-room, only reached by an open 
 staircase or by a little open path across a roof ; and when 
 great storms arose, as often happened, my father used to 
 carry us in his arms, back over the open space into the 
 more protected part of the house. 
 
 The walks on the sand were delightful to us children. 
 It was the .finest white soft sand without a vestige of 
 shingle on which we used to play ; and I remember that 
 Arthur even then was too fastidious to take off his shoes 
 and stockings and paddle about as we did. The whole 
 island was like a great sandbank, with little growing 
 naturally on it but a few palmettos and low woods of 
 myrtle. Our walks along the sea often took us as far as 
 Fort Moultrie, which in our time was a red brick fort 
 with a dry ditch round it, without the earthworks which 
 have since become famous. A high bank of sand lay be- 
 tween it and the sea ; and, after crossing this, we came to 
 a few desolate houses half buried in sand, which here lay 
 in great heaps. Here and there grew a few palmetto trees, 
 which the high tides or autumn storms too often carried 
 away, to our great grief when we came to look for a 
 favourite tree and found it gone. These sands were the 
 haunt of innumerable curlews whose wild screams seemed 
 to make the shore more lonely still. A beautiful grove of 
 myrtles rose farther along the shore. 
 
 The other end of the island was the inhabited part. 
 There was the pier busy with its arrivals and departures 
 of steamers, and sailing boats going to and fro between 
 the island and the city, and covered with numerous car- 
 riages and many nondescript conveyances used by the 
 residents who came out for the summer. The bay was 
 gay, too, with many fishing-boats belonging to the gentle- 
 men who had a fishing club, which met at a house among 
 the myrtles ; and many )-owing-boats also, chiefly rowed
 
 1827.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 7 
 
 by negroes. Arthur often went out with my father on the 
 water. 
 
 Six miles off lay Charleston, on a peninsula, between its 
 two rivers, the Cooper and the Ashley. The first sight of 
 it showed a long line of wharves made of palmetto logs 
 fastened together into a sort of wall, stretching perhaps 
 half a mile along the bay, and lined with the ships and 
 smaller craft that frequented the port. As you approached 
 from the water vou heard the songs of -the negroes at 
 work on the vessels. At the end of the wharves was a 
 battery or public walk, supported against the sea by a 
 substantial very white wall formed of oyster shells beaten 
 fine and hard. This species of pier extended nearly a 
 mile along the sea, and was a favourite resort both for 
 walking and driving in the summer. It was all roughly 
 done, as most things were in the South, but the sunshine 
 and clear skies made it bright and cheerful. The city was 
 not regularly built like the Northern towns. In the lower 
 part indeed the houses were mostly built close together in 
 rows ; but in the upper part, where the wealthier people 
 lived, it was full of villas with gardens, all built ^vith 
 verandahs, and many with two, an upper and a lower one. 
 In the gardens grew many flowering trees, such as the 
 almond, occasionally the orange, the fringe tree, a gay 
 shrub with a very abundant white flower, and the fig ; 
 and these hung over the garden walls into the streets. 
 The streets, too, which were for the most part unpaved, 
 were often planted with trees for the sake of shade. Here 
 and there one came on a large old-fashioned mansion, 
 that at once showed it belonged to the times before the 
 Revolution. 
 
 From Charleston, Sullivan's Island was to be seen in 
 the distance, beyond the battery, and on the right James 
 Island, marked by a long low line of wood. Between these 
 two islands, commanding the entrance, Fort Sumter was 
 afterwards built, not far from James Island. On the left
 
 8 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cuap. I. 
 
 was Fort Pinckney, built on a small island or sandbank 
 near the city. 
 
 In 1828 we all returned to Eogland. We sailed from 
 Charleston early in June. We greatly enjoyed the voyage ; 
 being the only children on board, we were exceedingly 
 petted, and the unusual sights impressed our imagination. 
 I remember very well the sea-weed floating in quantities 
 on the Grulf stream ; also we saw a water-spout, and 
 grander still — but happily for us only in the distance — 
 an iceberg. When at last we came in sight of the South 
 of Ireland, we were met by the Irish tishermen coming 
 out to sell us their fresh fish. Then came the slow creeping 
 up the Channel against a head-wind, and then a calm, 
 till one night the wind sprang up and in the morning we 
 found ourselves in Liverpool. 
 
 We then went to stay with an uncle in the country, 
 where we met my eldest brother, and found ourselves 
 among nine or ten cousins of different ages. This was quite 
 a new experience to us. Arthur could not enter into the 
 boys' rough games and amusements, and missed the 
 constant companionship with his father. We travelled 
 however for some months from one relation's house to 
 another, and by degrees Arthur became more sociable. 
 
 In November Arthur went to school at Chester, and 
 my father, mother, Greorge and I sailed again to Charle- 
 ston. This was practically the end of Arthur's childhood, 
 and before concluding this chapter I will say a few words 
 of my father and mother, and their influence on their 
 children. 
 
 Our father was most afl'ectionate, loving, and watchful 
 over his children. It was from him that we received 
 many of the smaller cares which usually come from a 
 mother, especially on the long voyages, during which my 
 mother suffered greatly, when he took the care of us almost 
 entirely, and comforted us in the rough storms. This 
 watchful and tender care for the feelings of others Arthur
 
 1828.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGK. 9 
 
 inherited in the largest degree from his father. My 
 father was very lively, and fond of society and amuse- 
 ment. He liked life and change, and did not care much 
 for reading. He had a high sense of honour, but was 
 venturesome and over sanguine, and when once his mind 
 was set on anything, he was not to be turned from it, 
 nor was he given to counting consequences. My mother 
 was very different. She had no love of beauty, but stern 
 integrity was at the bottom of her character. She loved 
 what was grand, noble, and enterprising, and was truly 
 religious. She early taught us about God and duty, and 
 having such a loving earthly father, it was not difficult to 
 look up to a Heavenly one. She loved to dwell on all 
 that was stern and noble. Leonidas at Thermopylae, and 
 Epaminondas accepting the lowliest offices and doing them 
 as a duty to his country; the sufferings of the martyrs, and 
 the struggles of the Protestants, were among her favourite 
 subjects. There was an enthusiasm about her that took hold 
 of us, and made us see vividly the things that she taught 
 us. But with this love of the terrible and grand she was 
 altogether a woman, clinging to and leaning on our father. 
 When he left us Arthur became her pet and her companion. 
 I cannot but think that her love, her influence, and her 
 teaching had much to do with forming his character.
 
 10 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 SCHOOL LIFE AND LETTEES. 
 
 In November 1828, Arthur went to school at Chester, and 
 in the summer of 1829 he was removed to Rugby. A 
 few of his early letters are given which give his impres- 
 sions of school life. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Chester : May 15, 1829. 
 Dear Anne, — I received your kind letter by the barque 
 Melantho, after an extremely long voyage. Charles 
 received one on the same day from uncle Charles, inti- 
 mating that we were to spend our vacation at Easter with 
 him at the vicarage. During the Easter holidays, which 
 we spent very pleasantly at Mold, I had plenty of leisure 
 for drawing. Two men were hung here lately for robbing 
 an old clergyman. We have bought a book entitled ' The 
 Newtonian System of Philosophy,' which treats chiefly of 
 the power and weight of air; the cause of volcanoes, 
 earthquakes, and other phenomena of nature, such as 
 lightning, the am-ora borealis ; also a description of the 
 sun, planets, their moons or satellites, constellations, comets, 
 and other heavenly bodies ; likewise <^ air-guns, balloons, 
 air-pumps ; also a very pleasing one of snow, hail, and 
 vapours. It also describes electricity and magnetism, 
 and gives a brief account of minerals, vegetables, and 
 animals. 
 
 The summer vacation is now just approaching, after 
 , which time we shall be conducted either by uncle Alfred
 
 1829.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 11 
 
 or uncle Charles to Eugby, which is not far from Leaming- 
 ton, at which place cousin Eliza is at school. 
 
 Were you not grieved to hear that magnificent building 
 York Minster had been partly destroyed through the 
 destructive means of fire ? 
 
 By Miss A. J. dough. 
 
 My brother Arthur remained at school in Chester only 
 nine months; he went to Eugby in the summer of 1829, 
 where he soon began to distinguish himself. 
 
 In July 1831, we came over from Charleston, and spent 
 some months in England. He did not seem very happy 
 at school ; his chief complaint was that he missed home 
 so much. We paid several visits together among our 
 relations in Lancashire, Yorkshire, and Wales, and he 
 returned to school alone, as Charles went to school abroad. 
 
 It happened that we were delayed in finding a ship to 
 take us back, and the Christmas holidays came round. 
 He hastened away from school, and reached us two or 
 three days before we sailed. His big prize-book, ' John- 
 son's Lives of the Poets,' was brought in his bag to 
 show his mother. How happy he was for those few days, 
 for the most part reading and talking to his mother! 
 but it soon came to an end. He and his youngest brother 
 left us for Chester, to spend their holidays at their grand- 
 father's, and we sailed away on Christmas eve. 
 
 My mother said she would never come back to England 
 till it was to be her home, and she kept her word. My 
 father came over in 1833, and took my three brothers to 
 London and to Paris. 
 
 Meanwhile Arthur prospered at school : he gained the 
 first scholarship there, and was soon in the higher forms. 
 His holidays were spent in a variety of places ; he visited 
 his uncle, the Eev. A. B. Clough, who was then Fellow of 
 Jesus ; he went to Pontefract, Chester, the north coast of
 
 12 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 Wales, Beaumaris, and Liverpool. He was among high 
 church, low church, moderate, and old-fashioned people ; 
 among country squires, and often at Mold Vicarage, where 
 he hecame acquainted with the life of a quiet but earnest 
 country clergyman. 
 
 To his Mother. 
 
 Eugby : May 15, 1830. 
 
 Deae Mamma, — I am glad to tell you that both Charles 
 and myself have been removed out of the third form into 
 the lower fourth; we enjoyed uncle Alfred's company 
 (he was steward to the Easter Meeting at Rugby) and also 
 the speeches and holidays very much. There were four 
 prizes. There was also a prize for boys in the fifth form, 
 which was gained by Stanley for an English Essay ' On 
 Sicily and its Revolutions.' These were all recited by their 
 different writers on Wednesday in Easter week. After 
 the four first had repeated their poems and read their 
 essays, Stanley came forth and read his essay. Un- 
 fortunately the prizes had not arrived, and therefore Dr. 
 Arnold was obliged to postpone the delivery of them. One 
 morning, however, at prayers, we saw a great many books 
 in extremely handsome bindings ; and after prayers. Dr. 
 Arnold gave them to those for whom they were intended. 
 
 School House, Eugby: May 28, 1833. 
 
 . . . I have gained one place in the form by this ex- 
 amination, and I shall certainly be in the sixth form next 
 half-year. I am now seventh, and ten at least of the 
 Prseposters leave either now or at Lawrence Sheriffe.* 
 
 To his Brother. 
 
 School House, Eugby : October 13, 1834. 
 My dear G-eorgy, — You say you do not like your school 
 even so well as you did last year. I believe that it is 
 
 « Meaning the day of Lawrence Sheriffe, which is the foundation-day of 
 the school.
 
 1835.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 13 
 
 worse than many places, but even liere at Kugby, the best 
 of all public schools, which are the best kind of schools, 
 even here there is a, vast deal of bad. It was but a few 
 nights ago that a little fellow, not more than thirteen at 
 the very most, was quite drunk, and that for the second 
 time in the last year. 1 do not know that there is here 
 much of the low mean spirit (which I fear you have so 
 much of), but it must be remembered that Rugby is far 
 better off in this way than most schools. 
 
 To his Brother. 
 
 School House, Rugby: March 4, 1835. 
 
 My dear George, — ... I was a little anxious 
 about you, but little did I suspect what was the case. 
 
 A rebellion is a fearful thing, a dreadful, but it was 
 sent for good. I cannot tell you how anxious I was when 
 I began your letter, and as little can I tell you how over- 
 joyed, how relieved, I was when I got through it. My 
 dear dear George, God gave you the trial to settle your 
 character, and I only wish that you had been more decided, 
 as decided in your party as the boy you mention, and then 
 how much happier you would have been. But as it is, 
 the second temptation was resisted, and I only hope that 
 the trial has given you strength to go on in the right way. 
 
 How glad I shall be, George, when this travelling about 
 will be over, and we shall be all quiet at our home — the first 
 time we shall have had one for many years. Heigh-ho ! 
 this is a delightful idea. 
 
 ^t3^ 
 
 To his Mother. 
 
 Jesus College, Oxford: July 9, 1835. 
 
 The exhibitioners this year are Lake, Penrose, and Gell. 
 We had an extremely pleasant time up at Rugby at the 
 examination, as the Oxford Vacation was just beginning, 
 and we had six or seven old Rugbeians down, and in so
 
 14 LETTERS AND KEMAINS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 busy and exciting a time their company was a great relief. 
 I had not been very well after Easter all along, but I 
 believe that time did more to make me well than all the 
 physic which has lengthened the doctor's bill to a most 
 boa-constrictor-like size. I have been in one continued 
 state of excitement for at least the last three years, and 
 now comes the time of exhaustion. When you all come 
 over next year, and I get home at last, I do think this 
 will end. 
 
 I must send you our Eugby magazine, which I beg you 
 will patronise with all your might, though I suppose your 
 canvassing materials in America are rather small. 
 
 To his Brother George. 
 
 School House, Eugby: September 13, 1835. 
 
 Only remember— don't be indolent, 
 
 Greorge ; you recollect what I told 5^ou about that family 
 failing. Idle, I do not think you will be ; but take care 
 you never say, * It is too much trouble,' ' I can't be 
 bothered,' which are tolerably old favourites of yours, 
 and, indeed, of all who have any Perfect blood in them. 
 
 No doubt you will feel very much 
 
 the loss of any one to talk to about religion, but let this, 
 my dear George, only make you keep more close to Grod ; 
 and if still — for I know that our weakness does often want 
 more direct and visible aid than this, and that our minds 
 are too imperfectly brought to righteousness and goodness 
 to be continually talking even with our kind Father God, 
 just as you would wish to talk to those of your own age 
 sometimes, and not always to those above you onl}', how- 
 ever much you might love them — if you do still want 
 some one to talk to, you have only to write to me, and I 
 shall be sure to answer you within a week or two. Ee- 
 member too, that if the school is bad, it is no reason, no 
 excuse for you to do as they do. Eemember, they are not
 
 1835.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIT. 15 
 
 many, and Jesus said that a little leaven leavens the whole 
 lump : now, do not think that I am telling you to put your- 
 self forward as a kind of apostle or missionary to them. 
 Only go on without fearing or shrinking in any point from 
 your duty ; do not mind their knowing that you are trying 
 to serve God. 
 
 The magazine prospers ; it will probably be out on the 
 Ist October. * Egmont ' will appear, and one or two other 
 things of mine. I assure you I have enough to do. I 
 sometimes think of giving up fagging hard here, and 
 doing all my extra work in the holidays, so as to have my 
 time here free for these two objects — 1st. The improve- 
 ment of the school; 2nd. The publication and telling 
 abroad of the merits of the school by means of the 
 
 magazine. 
 
 To Ms Brother. 
 
 School House, Rugby: October 11, 1835. 
 
 Simpkinson left me last Monday for Cambridge, and 
 his absence has made me head of the school-house, which 
 is an office of considerable trust and great difficulty. 
 Indeed, you could not do better than try to win the 
 liking and esteem of your schoolfellows by being as kind 
 to them as you can. I hope I am trying earnestly 
 to do the same. But there is one danger in this oc- 
 cupation which assails me, at least, very often ; and that 
 is, the danger of carrying our wash too far. And remember 
 always, that to be liked is not the thing we should wish 
 for on its own account, but only because it will make it 
 more easy for us to do good to those who like us. Try, my 
 dear George, to be as active in this good work as you can 
 be ; only take care that you have a few moments to your- 
 self with God every day ; so that you do not forget Him 
 in your more active employments ; if you do these two 
 things I do not think you will be likely to fall into any 
 more stwpors, as you call those states of mind, which I
 
 16 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. 11. 
 
 very well know and have often experienced. As soon as 
 you feel anything of the kind coming on, go and do some- 
 thing, no matter what, which will employ you actively. 
 Perhaps, if you do some kindness to a schoolfellow, or 
 resist him in some evil practice, you will feel this go 
 down very rapidly. You never told us how your school- 
 work is getting on ; do you do any Euclid now ? I have 
 not heard from America lately ; the last letter I had was 
 from my father, dated at Saratoga. Tell me when you 
 write all about No. II. of the Rugby Magazine. It is very 
 much liked here, better than the first, and we have had 
 intelligence of its being thought very well of in the literary 
 circles in London. I only hope it will not decay under 
 my hands ; for I have got the management of it almost 
 entirely by myself. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Scliool House, Rugby. October 10, 1835. 
 
 My oldest and only friend, Simpkinson, is just gone to 
 Cambridge, and there are also two or three more gone 
 whom I knew and loved better than the rest ; so that I am 
 now quite alone, and am doomed so to remain for two long 
 years. 
 
 I see, however, quite plainly that this is far better for 
 me, for now I shall not fag so much, as being of necessity 
 thrown much more with other fellows, and wishing now 
 most earnestly to know as many as possible ; for there is a 
 deal of evil springing up in the school, and it is to be 
 feared that the tares will choke much of the wheat. 
 There is a great deal of good in the top of the school, but 
 then it is what may be called disagreeable good, having 
 much evil mixed with it; especially in little matters. 
 So that from these persons good is disliked. I am trying, 
 if possible, to show them that good is not necessarily 
 disagreeable, and that a Christian may be, and is likely to
 
 1835.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIf. 17 
 
 be, a gentleman ; and that he is surely much more than a 
 gentleman. 
 
 Monday, October 12. 
 
 The nights (that is, after locking-up time) are getting 
 very long, beginning as they do now from a quarter-past 
 six ; so that I have a great deal of time in my study, 
 and am almost more by myself than I wish. Sometimes, 
 when I am thus alone, I long very nnich indeed to have 
 you all over here ; for before Simpkinson left, Rugby 
 was almost like home to me, and now I feel the want of a 
 home far more than I ever did before ; so that I cannot 
 tell you how welcome next summer will be to me. Even 
 the holidays without you seem a thing to be looked 
 forward to very much, which they never did before, except 
 last half-year, when I was unable to work. I am very 
 tolerably well now, and think I have recovered altogether, 
 though I verily believe I shall not be able ever again 
 to fag so much ; indeed, I shall never wish to do so in 
 the same way. You will understand a good deal of 
 the way in which fagging hard is so frequently ruinous 
 both to body and mind, from an article in the Rugby 
 Magazine, No. III., which I hope you will like as much 
 as the people on this side the Atlantic (I mean the article 
 entitled ' A Schoolboy's Story ') ; I think you will see a good 
 deal in that to explain it. 
 
 By this time, I suppose, you are back in Charleston, and 
 ere long I shall have heard the full account of your trip to 
 Lake George. I had a great deal of pleasant travelling myself 
 in the summer, particularly in that part of my journey 
 which took me from Oxford through Cheltenham and 
 Shrewsbury, to Beaumaris. I met a very curious animal 
 in the coffee-room at the Shrewsbury inn, a German 
 merchant's son from Bremen. He was very ignorant and 
 very intelligent, so that he was also very amusino-. At 
 one time he made me think him half an idiot, at another 
 he seemed quite clever. Probably he had never been out 
 
 c
 
 18 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 of a counting-house in his life before ; at any rate, his 
 observation must have been very Kmited, for I went to 
 show him Lord Hill's column, and as we were walking up 
 to it, he said, ' Well, that is very beautiful, very big,' and 
 a moment or two after, ' and it gets bigger as we come 
 nearer !' 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 School House, Rugby : October 24, 1835. 
 I do wish that I could be acquainted and intimate with 
 a great many fellows, but I really have not time ; and 
 here is another advantage on the side .of evil, that bad 
 characters are also idle, whereas good characters are 
 industrious, so that when a fellow wants a companion he is 
 much more likely to pitch on a bad than on a good one. I 
 am afraid that writing or thinking much about these things 
 does me harm. I only wish you would write to me about 
 it, for your letters always put me more on my legs. Do you 
 remember what Arnold says (Sermons, vol. iii. Introduc- 
 tion) about the enduring value of the ancient philosophical 
 and historical works ? Well, I really think that letters 
 from fellows who have left act much in the same way, 
 keeping one's mind ' fresh and comprehensive.' So spare 
 not pen and paper when you can spare time. 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 School House, Rugby : November 9, 1835. 
 . . I have to take care lest the excitement should carry 
 me away ; for though assuredly there is no Simpkinson here, 
 nor Vaughan, nor Burbidge ; yet it is most easy to find excite- 
 ment, on the one hand, in fagging, and on the other, in 
 associating with fellows for their good, which is a more 
 dangerous employment than I looked for ; there is such an 
 excess of acquaintance and such a lack of friends here ; 
 nobody to look up to in one's common school-dealings, and 
 so much to look up to at times in Arnold, that it is no easy
 
 1835.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 19 
 
 matter to ' keep a level temper,' as young used to say. 
 
 Sometimes all seems so very bright, the little good one has 
 done seems so gi-eat, and the good one hopes to do so 
 certain, that one gets quite .elevated ; then there soon 
 follows the exhaustion, and I think it is no use trying ; 
 and in the meantime copies, &c., have been accumulating 
 and I am obliged to set to, though the true cure of such a 
 state is forcing oneself to try even against hope. Besides, 
 there are all the letters from Oxford and Cambridofe, than 
 which more exciting things were never created. 
 
 I don't know which to think the greatest, the blessing 
 of being under Arnold, or the curse of being without a home. 
 
 To his Brother. 
 
 School House, Rugby : November 15, 1835. 
 . . . I am very sorry to hear you say that you are sink- 
 ing ; why do you not tell me your difficulties ? You say you 
 do not like the boys about you ; indeed, I dare say you 
 have good reason for not liking them, but wherever you 
 go this will always be the case; you can never expect to 
 have only good people about you, so do not let this dis- 
 courage you. My dear Greorge, do, I beg you, strive to 
 keep yourself up ; do resist your indolence and your fear- 
 fulness; do exert yourself, and keep doing your work 
 actively. I say this because I know that indolence is the 
 common fault, as I told you, of all who have any Perfect 
 blood in them ; and therefore you ought to, and must 
 strive against it, or else it would have been better for you 
 never to have been born, for you will be yielding to the 
 devil, and become his slave. You must not think of Grod 
 only as your loving Father and Friend, tiiough He is so 
 much so, but also as your Judge ; as one who is so holy 
 and pure that He cannot bear any sin in this world of 
 His ; and who, at the same time, is so powerful as to be 
 able to inflict the heaviest punishment. I should suppose 
 that you did not think enough whenever you do anythinv'
 
 20 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cuap. II. 
 
 wrong, my dear Greorge, how Grod must hate it. Do try 
 and so act as to remain in His love. To be sure you can- 
 not do this of yourself, but though you do require God's 
 assistance, yet He will not give that assistance unless you 
 do your part, and, exert yourself to do good. Before long, 
 you will no doubt be confirmed, and then you will be able 
 to go to the Sacrament, and thus you will gain strength 
 more and more continually, by being continually reminded 
 of Christ's goodness to you. Till that time comes, if your 
 struggle is not easy, yet still it is not too hard for you, when 
 Grod is ever ready to assist you. I know very well that you 
 do feel this in your heart, my dear Greorge, but you 
 must try and do more. I have no doubt that some- 
 times you do wish to be good with all your heart, and do 
 love God very much. But you cannot feel strongly all 
 along, so you must make up your mind to it, which is 
 much steadier than the heart, and pray earnestly that you 
 may know with all your mind the necessity of doing God's 
 will. I am not sure that this is what you want, I am 
 writing rather at a venture ; but there is one way in which 
 I can help you, and you me, and that is by praying for each 
 other to God, who knows all we want ; this I hope you do. 
 
 To his Mother. 
 
 Finch House, near Liverpool : 
 December 1835. 
 
 To-day is Monday, and during the last eight or nine 
 days I have had as many changes of place and companions 
 as I ever remember, and have had a right busy and ex- 
 citing time of it. On Friday evening before last, our 
 great examination closed, and I was not a little disap- 
 pointed, thinking that I ought to have done better. Then 
 on Saturday one of my Oxford friends came down (Lake), 
 and this of course made a great change, and raised my 
 spirits as high as before they had been low. In the 
 evening the class-paper came out, and I found I had got
 
 18-35.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 21 
 
 all I had hoped for, and also that I was head of the form 
 in composition marks, thus securing two prizes ; then I 
 dined at Arnold's, and had a very pleasant evening. Then 
 followed all the misery of the last night — noise, noise, 
 noise of preparing, and wishing good-bye, &c., till twelve 
 o'clock and after; followed at two o'clock by the still 
 greater noise of going. After my two hours' sleep, I had 
 a busy morning of breakfasting with my tutor, of paying 
 off window-bills, &c., &c., packing up, &c., &c. ; and so 
 on till twelve o'clock, when I dined out, and returned to 
 the school at three o'clock calling-over, wished the fellows 
 good-bye, and waited for the coach till four in the school 
 field. In a short time your old friend the Oxford and 
 Leicester Eegulator — vulgarly termed the Pig — transported 
 me to Leicester, and here I found myself in a completely 
 new world, at a house I was strange to, with my old 
 school-fellow Burbidge correcting the proofs of ^o. IIL 
 of the Eugby Magazine. Next day at 10 p.m., we were 
 joined for an hour by two more Cantabrigians (Vaughan 
 and Grell), which was very delightful indeed. Well, not 
 to trouble you with a further account of what we did at 
 Leicester, on Friday night after walking for two and a half 
 hours along Leicester streets (for the coach should have 
 started at half-past ten, and did not till one o'clock), I 
 began a long journey to Liverpool. After one of the coldest 
 and bitterest nights I ever remember, and a day not much 
 less so, I found myself about 3 p.m. at the end of the lane 
 by the fifth milestone. I must go a little further and tell 
 you what Ave are going to do these holidays. George is 
 now in Chester ; he is going to Mold on Thursday the 
 24th inst., where I shall join him the same day. Hence 
 after a few days we shall proceed to Min-y-don* for ten 
 days, and thence again he will return here, and I shall 
 probably go to Chester. 
 
 * Near Conway, a house on the seashore belonging to an uncle of A. II. 
 Clough.
 
 22 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 I suppose we shall have a regular rambling time of it, 
 which I dare say will be pleasant enough in its way ; but I 
 cannot tell you how very, very much I long for next sum- 
 mer, even on this ground only, that then we shall have 
 done with this way of living. I am quite well now, and 
 shall be, I hope. I have not been so hard at work this 
 last half-year, and that may have something to do with 
 it. But I think it is a good deal owing to my having to 
 go about with other fellows more than I used to do, and 
 this will be the case for some time now. I have, however, 
 to look forward to a very busy half-year ; but as it will not 
 be my last half-year, I need not be very anxious about it 
 or excited in it. I shall have another Easter and another 
 Exhibition time after this ; but I must do my best to be 
 ready for next November, when I shall go up for the 
 Balliol scholarship. At any rate, my dear mother, it is no 
 long time now before July comes, and time passes very 
 quickly, at least I find it does to me now. It seems now 
 that there is nothing wanting to make my earthly happi- 
 ness complete, so far as it can be complete, that will not 
 be given me next summer, though indeed even now I can 
 see some flaws in it. But there will be so many and such 
 friends at Cambridge and Oxford, and so happy a situation 
 at school where I know that I am loved by many, and 
 where I am ever living under and gathering wisdom from 
 a great and good man. Such a prospect makes one tremble, 
 for it seems to be too fair for earth : at least it makes one 
 resolve to do all to fix one's affections on things above, lest 
 God should see that such fortune was too great for one, 
 and that one could not bear it. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Mold Vicarage : December 30, 1835. 
 I have some difficulty in prevailing on George to do 
 Avhat he does not like (i. e. read) for an hour and a half in 
 the day. I do not know any boy who with so good a dis-
 
 18;',G.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 23 
 
 position has done and does now so little to improve himself. 
 But I hope and believe he is much better at school than 
 he is in the holidays : indeed I think it is very natural he 
 should be so. And it is wonderful what a degree of kind 
 and affectionate feeling he has ; only fancy, for six or 
 seven years he has been treasuring up his money in the 
 savings' bank, and now it is all spent to buy me a watch. 
 On Christmas day I found a little paper box on my plate 
 at breakfast, and on opening it first came a quantity of 
 brown paper, then a note, then the ribbon, and at the 
 bottom a gold watch. 
 
 The examination went off very well for me last half- 
 year. In regular work four first-classes, in composition, 
 divinity, classics and history ; I might have got two more 
 in modern languages and mathematics. In extras I got 
 two first-classes, which was all I tried for, and which will 
 give me a prize. I shall also get a prize for. being among 
 the four first in the composition of the half-year in the 
 sixth : which means the Latin, prose and verse ; Greek, 
 prose and verse ; English, prose and verse, which we have 
 done in the half-year. 
 
 To J. N. SimpJdnson, Esq. 
 
 Stanley Street, Chester : January 18, 1836. 
 I am most utterly busy now at Niebuhr for November, 
 which time is very much in my thoughts. The bare 
 idea of missing is horrible, and I have not done a page 
 for the magazine as yet, though I have great hopes of 
 writing a good deal. As to Q., you know he invited 
 me to his bouse this winter, so I suppose he has taken a 
 great fancy to me. He is disagreeable sometimes, and is 
 rather narrow-minded, or rather narrow-notioned ; and 
 having said so much ' con,' I might say a great many 
 * pros,' but it is this very narrowness of ideas which 
 prevents one loving him. Such people have no idea that
 
 24 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 it is anything approaching to a duty to make oneself 
 agreeable ; they have a great deal too much of the itch to 
 become martyrs and undergo persecution. Even two or 
 three years under Arnold have not wholly eradicated this 
 notion in Q. himself; but if he goes, as I believe he does, 
 to Balliol, he will, I trust, soon lose it, as I think he is 
 sure to be admitted into the High Arnold set that is just 
 germinating at Balliol under the auspices of Stanley and 
 Lake. . . . You know how differently a boy regards home 
 when he has once been to school. The kind of passive 
 and almost apathetic feeling (to indulge in a bull) which 
 he before had becomes high, steady and active feeling and 
 principle. I will not say that my feelings towards him are 
 so personal as they are to some others, because they are 
 so closely connected with Arnold, but I am very much 
 attached to him. . . I verily believe my whole being 
 is soaked through with the wishing and hoping and striv- 
 ing to do the school good, or rather to keep it up and 
 hinder it from falling in this, I do think, very critical 
 time, so that all my cares and affections and conversation, 
 thought words and deeds look to that involuntarily. I am 
 afraid you will be inclined to think this ' cant,' and I am 
 conscious that even one's truest feelings, if very frequently 
 put out in the light, do make a bad and disagreeable 
 appearance ; but this however is true, and even if I am 
 carrying it too far, I do not think it has made me really 
 forgetful of my personal friends, such as, in particular, 
 Gell and Burbidge and Walrond, and yourself, my dear S. 
 
 To J. N. Simpkinson. 
 
 School House, Rugby: Feb. 13, 1836. 
 
 .... I am sure this constant writing of letters is not 
 really a waste of time. Every one of us has much he 
 needs to receive, and there are few who have nothing to 
 give ; and I, for one, cannot speak too highly of the good
 
 1836.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 25 
 
 I have got from others in this way ; it is such a constant 
 correction of each other's wild and foolish tendencies of 
 mind, opinion, &c. I wish I could have come to Cam- 
 bridge very much ; but I do not agree at all in your 
 second reason, viz. that it would make me discontented 
 with the Balliol prospect. If I do get the scholarship, I 
 shall not long one bit for Cambridge ; no, nor do I think I 
 shall do so, if I don't get it. It is the very thing for which 
 you uphold Cambridge which makes me prefer Oxford. 
 At Oxford we only form part of a large set, and there is 
 more hope there that a little leaven will leaven the whole 
 lump, which is, I think, more useful than your scheme. To 
 be sure, there will only be Stanley, Lake, Fox, Arnold, and 
 myself; but then there are a great number of very nice 
 men, with whom, I hope, we shall get more acquent, and 
 this will be better. Do not think I underrate the blessing 
 of Kugby friends ; I am only anxious to give others that 
 blessing. I have a great deal more to say, but I must go 
 to the De Corona, i. e. first lesson, so good-night. 
 
 Combe's* shop is delicious. So is the new Irish Title 
 Bill — auctore Lord John Eussell — at least I am told so. 
 So also is the fact that, malgre scandal, libels and lies, 
 ' JMorning Herald,' ' Times,' and ' John Bull,' the school is 
 above 300. So also, I doubt not, will be the reading of 
 ' Knight's Quarterly,' which I have just got. So also (this 
 is indeed a climax) will be Easter. 
 
 To his Mother. 
 
 School House, Rugby: March 183G. 
 
 .... At last the prizes are over, and the last half- 
 sheet of the Magazine, No. IV., is also sent off, I believe ; 
 and you can hardly fancy the feeling of this freedom, 
 most unusual indeed to me. As for the prizes, I have 
 this Easter got one, the Latin Verse ; and a second for 
 
 * The Rugby bookseller.
 
 26 LETTEKS AND EEMAIXS OF [Chap. II. 
 
 each of the others, viz. the Latin Prose and the Greek 
 Verse, so that I shall still have two to try for next year ; 
 so that, of course, I am very well satisfied. I have been 
 very well, too, on the whole ; indeed I may say exceed- 
 ingly well, notwithstanding all the hard work, and happy 
 too, though sometimes in rather low spirits, for I stand 
 much alone in the school now, and I am afraid it is any- 
 thing but good for me to be alone ; but I hope I am con- 
 quering these fits, and I do not think they come nearly so 
 frequently or so strongly as they used to do ; and when 
 you are come over and settled, I think they may cease 
 altogether ; if they do not, it will not be my own fault. 
 
 Dr. Arnold, I am afraid, you know too little about yet 
 to give him and his concerns much interest for you. Only 
 if any rumours of ill-conduct as head-master here have 
 crossed the Atlantic (I believe they have got a great way 
 through the ' Times' and 'John Bull' newspapers), I might 
 as well tell you that the Trustees of the School met last 
 week in London, all being present except three of the 
 twelve, and wrote a letter to the Doctor, saying that they 
 had the most complete confidence in him ; that the school 
 was going on as well as could be expected, and that the 
 discipline was perfectly humane. Lord Aylesford, one of 
 the absentees, wrote still more complimentarily to him. 
 It is, indeed, a marvel how any one could think of circu- 
 lating such utter falsehoods and absurdities as have been 
 spread about by different papers for the last three months. 
 The school is certainly at this moment not at its very 
 highest state of excellence, such as it was in two or three 
 years ago, but there is a very great deal of goodness and 
 talent springing up, I hope and believe. 
 
 From some cause or other, immense numbers left last 
 Midsummer, and will again this coming one ; and the 
 sudden elevation this causes of a large number into the 
 place of trust and authority renders the spirit of the 
 highest class more childish and less sensible and manly
 
 J 836.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIT. 27 
 
 than it used to be. These are things which no one can 
 calcuhite on, though of the most material consequence to 
 the well-being of the school, and only show the extreme 
 difficulty of education. Only fancy, out of the thirty-two 
 first in the school, I suppose just half (if not more) will go; 
 and thus a full half of the sixtli will be new and quite 
 inexperienced, many of them quite young. Perhaps I let 
 these things grow too much into everything else. Yet it 
 is very fine and striking to see many of the best and 
 cleverest Oxford and Cambridge men still watching with 
 great interest all the little changes in the school, and 
 still helping those that remain with their experience and 
 wisdom. 
 
 I shall not be sorry to go to Oxford now, for I find 
 Stanley and Lake like it very much ; and I daresay Dr. 
 Arnold will be a Bishop before long. I only hope it may 
 not be just yet. I must, however, do my best to go there 
 as I wish, viz. with a Balliol scholarship ; and that not 
 only for the honour's sake, though the honour is the 
 greatest part of it, but for the 30^. per annum which, 
 with an exhibition, will, I trust, all but pay my way at 
 Oxford, as Balliol is 20^. or 30^. cheaper than any other 
 college, I understand. What may come after this I know 
 not ; this is enough to look to as yet. And I mean, if 
 possible, to have a quiet month for reading at Finch House 
 before you come over. 
 
 Our Easter time is just beginning. Two of our Uni- 
 versity people are down already, Burbidge and Lake, and 
 Gell and Simpkinson are to be here next Wednesday. 
 From that day to its namesake of the first week after 
 Easter, I suppose there will be little or nothing done but 
 walking and talking.
 
 28 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [CnAP. II. 
 
 To J, N. Simpkinson, Esq. 
 
 Eugby. 1836. 
 
 You must not be angry at my turning back from the 
 turnpike. I don't understand Arnold's saying what he did 
 to Vaughan, for surely, at that rate, 0. or S. (I don't mean 
 to be invidious on either university) might, if they ever 
 came here, take fellows over by wholesale, without asking- 
 leave, for of course they are in the same position, rela- 
 tively to schoolboys, as you or Yaughan. And I was 
 thinking of a good deal of mischief that D. and others 
 had done at Easter among the fellows by taking advan- 
 tage of their being ' gentlemen at large,' so that on the 
 whole 3'ou may see that I had something more like reason, 
 at any rate, than "mere scrupulousness about the letter of 
 the law ; though, indeed, the letter of the law is a very 
 good thing, as the spirit is apt to vary with the inter- 
 preters, but what is written is written. I assure you I 
 should have liked nothing better than to have gone with 
 you to Dunchurch, and I reproached myself very much for 
 not having asked Arnold, as I had meant to do, at first lesson. 
 
 Do you know that to-morrow the most liberal, or Ather 
 radical, measure is to be brought forward, of throwing 
 open the Island to the fags ? I am not quite so liberal as 
 to vote for that, but I am afraid it will succeed. The 
 reason of the attempt to open it is the establishment of 
 these new gymnastic affairs — swings, vaulting-poles, and 
 all kinds of monkey-trick instruments, which excite a 
 great desire in the fags for this privilege. 
 
 To J. K Simjpkinson, Esq. 
 
 Liverpool: July 16, 1836. 
 Do you know I believe I am become quite a convert to 
 the Cambridge set's superiority, though, after all, Cam- 
 bridge can never be equal to Oxford in the grandness of 
 the idea of it ? One may fancy Cambridge a very excel-
 
 1836.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 29 
 
 lent and useful big place of education, but Oxford is the 
 place for the education of statesmen and great political 
 men ; and the influence of Oxford and its place in relation 
 to the commonwealth is far higher for good or for evil. 
 Suppose Oxford became truly good and truly wise, would 
 it not be far more important, and a far greater blessing 
 than Cambridge in the same condition ? And in this 
 consists the superiority I used to stick up for of the Balliol 
 set, because I believed them truly wise, and withal full of 
 the Oxford public and political and national feeling. But 
 to live in, and among, and as mere society, you are doubt- 
 less better and more delightful. 
 
 August 8. 
 What a delightful thing it must be, being so near Fox 
 How I I cannot, indeed, conceive anyone calling *the Dr.' 
 Tom, even at Fox How. 
 
 Rugby : September 23, 1836. 
 We are all getting on very pleasantly this half-year, and 
 the school looks remarkably harmless, and everybody in- 
 clined to do their best and behave well, which is very 
 delicious. We are not, however, by any means full — not 
 more than 286, which will probably be raised to the fall 
 complement next half. Of course, we have quite a new 
 sixth, and certainly an improvement. The night-fagging 
 is at last abolished totally, except half-an-hour at the be- 
 ginning. ^^'e have our supper in the most gentlemanly 
 fashion, in the room together, on a tray with plates and 
 knives, and we buy very good cheeses ourselves, and make 
 a very sociable meal of it. And at last the dream of 
 former days is becoming a reality ; the Sixth Form Eoom 
 is to be furnished ; Arnold gives us 51, and the trustees 
 advance the rest, except a small sum raised by immediate 
 subscription. Also, at last, the new window is put up, 
 and looks, I think, very beautiful. I am very happy and 
 comfortable, and working pretty well.
 
 30 LETTERS AXD EEMAINS OF [CnAr. IH. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HIS FAMILY r.ETDRNS TO ENGLAND — BALLIOL SCHOLARSHIP — 
 
 LIFE AT OXFORD. 
 
 By Miss A. J. dough. 
 
 In 1836, my father and mother and I returned to Eng- 
 land. In the month of July 1836, we landed at Liverpool, 
 where we met my two younger brothers, after a separation 
 of nearly five years. Arthur was a blooming youth of 
 seventeen, with an abundance of dark soft hair, a fresh 
 complexion, much colour, and shining eyes full of anima- 
 tion. Eager and earnest, his mind made up on a variety of 
 subjects, he was ready to talk, and above all, of his school 
 and his schoolmaster. Dr. Arnold. He fought his battles 
 and defended his theories about church government, &c., 
 most stoutly. Kind and considerate he was, as ever, but 
 something of the vehemence of youth was upon him. 
 
 The following autumn he gained the Balliol scholarship, 
 and at Christmas he came once more to a home of his 
 own. At Midijummer, 1837, he returned home with an 
 exhibition from Eugby, and in October he went to reside 
 at Oxford. 
 
 To his Father. 
 
 Oxford : November 26, 1836. 
 I have just come out from Balliol, of which college I am 
 now a scholar. The examination concluded this morning 
 about twelve o'clock, and it has just been given out I have 
 got the head one, which also includes an exhibition added 
 to it to make it more valuable, as of themselves the scholar- 
 ships are not worth much. We have had a long and labo-
 
 1837.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 31 
 
 rious examination, but I am quite well, and not much tired, 
 at least I do not feel so at present. I stay up here till next 
 Wednesday, as the inauguration is on Tuesday evening. 
 
 To J. N. SlmpJcinson, Esq. 
 
 Rugby : December 9, 1836. 
 I am sitting in Arnold's drawdng-room, of all places in 
 the world, for my nine days at Oxford have so tired me, 
 that after vainly trying yesterday to return to regular 
 work, to-day I have resolved to stay out and rest m3\self ; 
 and as there are to be, I believe, half-a-score fellows in 
 the sick room, Mrs. Arnold kindly took me in here. The 
 examination was, on the whole, I think, neither very 
 favourable nor yet unfavourable to me, and it pleased 
 Grod that I should be in health and strength and good 
 spirits, and not much excited during the days of the work. 
 I could not but feel, from what I heard and saw, that I had 
 a very good chance among them, and that in one or two 
 things I had the advantage. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Balliol College: Oct. 15, 1837. 
 Behold, I am in Oxford, safe and sound, capped and 
 gowned ; have attended chapel t\vice, once with and once 
 wdthout surplice ; have been to Hall (signifying dinner in 
 Hall) ; also twice to a wine party ; also to call on the 
 Master, and to the University Sermon this morning ; so 
 that by to-morrow evening, when, I hope, my books will be 
 arrived and arranged on my shelves, and when also, I trust, 
 I shall be furnished with a kettle and set of tea-things 
 (for as yet I have been dependent on the bountiful hospi- 
 tality of my friends), I shall be pretty completely settled. 
 I came up with Stanley and with two other Rugbeians on 
 Friday evening, and got established in my rooms that 
 night. They consist of one small and one smaller room.
 
 32 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Chap. III. 
 
 both, however, considerably larger than my study at Eugb}'', 
 in the attics of No. 4 Staircase, outer quadrangle. 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 Hope Street, Liverpool : Jan. 15, 1838. 
 
 Did the intelligence arrive in your parts of Arnold's 
 wonderful victory in the Senate of London University ? 
 i. e. the introduction of an examination in the Grospels and 
 Acts into the Degree Examination, which must seem a 
 strange novelty in that godless place. It must have been 
 a very grand thing to see him get up among all those 
 people and declare that they must do something to show 
 that they were Christians and that it was a Christian Uni- 
 versity. I do not know what would become of the various 
 shades of Whigs now existing in the University if Hawkins 
 were to be made a Bishop. These people, however, have 
 done a vast deal of good at Oxford, when anything so ' un- 
 gentlemanly ' and ' coarse ' and in such bad taste as Evan- 
 gelicalism would never be able to make very much way. 
 It seems just the sort of religious activity and zeal which 
 one would expect to develop itself in an age of activity and 
 shaking up in such a place as the University of Oxford. 
 
 I am great friends with Brodie, and still more so, I 
 think, with Ward, whom I like very much. I have seen 
 more of him and of Lake than of any one else. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Oxford, BaUiol CoUege: April 8, 1838. 
 
 Do you not envy me my idleness ? you, who, I sup- 
 pose, are in the miseries of entering the Trinity College 
 Examination. I have got through all my trouble, and am 
 now fully at liberty to lie in bed, go to the newsroom, read 
 reviews and novels, learn to skiff, and finally to insult you 
 and Simpkinson. 
 
 It is supposed that ]jut for this Hertford, which has
 
 1838 ] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 33 
 
 turned out so ill for us, all knowledge of Latin in the 
 University of Oxford would have been by this time quite 
 extinct, except as surviving in College graces and Uni- 
 versity oaths ; those also not understood. 
 
 I wish that you were at Oxford ; it is, I am sure, so 
 much better a place than Cambridge, and you would have 
 the great advantage of a good chance of becoming a dis- 
 ciple of /u,f7a9 NsavSpos, whom I like much better than 
 I did, and admire in many points exceedingly. 
 
 To J. P. GelU Esq. 
 
 Balliol: May 8, 1838. 
 
 One thing, I suppose, is clear — that one must leave the 
 discussion of the Ta NsavSpcaTriKo, k.t.X. all snug and quiet 
 for after one's degree. And it is no harm, but rather good, 
 to give oneself up a little to learning Oxford people, and 
 admiring their good points, which lie, I suppose, princi- 
 pally in all they hold in opposition to the Evangelical 
 portion of society — the benefit and beauty and necessity of 
 forms — the ugliness of feelings put on unnaturally soon, 
 and consequently kept up by artificial means, ever strained 
 and never sober. I should think very likely,, too, their 
 anti-Calvinistic views of justification were, if not just, at 
 least very useful to lead us to the truth. I should be very 
 sorry ever to be brought to believe their further views of 
 matter acting on morals as a charm of sacramentalism, and 
 the succession-notion so closely connected with it. All 
 this, and their way of reading and considering Scripture — 
 such a contrast to the German fashions — rests, I suppose, 
 entirely on their belief in the infallibility of the Church 
 down to a certain period, to which they are led by a strong 
 sense of the necessity of some infallible authority united 
 with a feeling of the insufficiency of the New Testament. 
 Indeed, I think a good deal of what they say as to this 
 latter point is stronger than anything I ever heard against 
 it. Newman is now giving lectures on the Mystical Power V 
 
 D
 
 X 
 
 K 
 
 34 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. III. 
 
 of the Sacraments, and seems to have stated the objection 
 to it Scriptural ly in a very fair and candid manner. If I 
 
 had said a quarter of this to , he would have set me 
 
 down at once for a thorough-going convert ad Newman- 
 ismum. But you will not be so rash ; and you remember 
 that you asked me to write about it. 
 
 It is very striking that there is a German divine among 
 the large assortment living and thinking here, who has 
 come to a mystical view which is no less difficult than 
 Newman's, though not in form the same. Olshausen is 
 his name. His notion is of a mysterious union of our 
 bodies with our Lord's, though not by the bread and wine. 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 Eugby: September 1838. 
 Arnold is coming with Bunsen to Cambridge next 
 Christmas holidays ; about the time, I suppose, of your 
 going up for your degree. He is quite well again, being 
 restored by Bunsen's visit. I think, for myself, I would 
 give two years of my life to come to have back the last 
 one I spent at Eugby. Many of the big, unruly fellows 
 who are troubling the school so much now, and were in 
 my time only showing the beginnings of their badnesses, 
 quite haunt me at times ; but that cannot be helped, so 
 one can only hope earnestly for Theodore, who seems in- 
 deed very brave and manly. One sees very little of 
 Arnold here, and indeed to talk with him almost nothing. 
 
 Balliol : November 18, 1838. 
 You must know when you modestly requested me to 
 answer your letter by return of post, that I was then in the 
 midst of preparations for my little go, which fiery ordeal 
 I have passed through now nearly three weeks. Also that 
 Congreve and I have come to the conclusion that time in 
 fee simple does not exist in Oxford, but only on credit, and 
 that with heavv interest.
 
 1838.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. X'j 
 
 Stanley was as miicli delighted as you were with Whately, 
 and was greatly rejoiced too at finding you so unusually 
 (for a Cambridge man) like an Oxford man. There is, I 
 suppose, no doubt much more interest in such matters 
 (theological, ecclesiastical, political, &c.) here, than with 
 you ; though the society sees is much the most inquir- 
 ing, at any rate, on them, than any in Oxford, and it is 
 not a very large set. The Newmanistic undergraduates 
 mostly shut their ears and call it blasphemy, but not quite 
 universally, and of course they, though they will not 
 listen to anything else, have a scheme of church govern- 
 ment, &c., which they uphold, not to say anything about 
 understanding or appreciating it. 
 
 If you were to come here (as I hope you will after your 
 degree is done with), you would at once have Ward at you, 
 asking you your opinions on every possible subject of this 
 kind you can enumerate ; beginning with Covent Grarden 
 and Macready, and certainly not ending till you got to the 
 question of the moral sense and deontology. I don't quite 
 like hearing so much of these matters as I do, but I sup- 
 pose if one can only keep steadily to one's work (which I 
 wish I did), and quite resolve to forget all the words one 
 has heard, and to theorise only for amusement, there is 
 no harm in it. Hawkins, Provost of Oriel, in a very good 
 University Sermon last Sunday, on the Duty of Private 
 Judgment as opposed to the Eight, seemed to say that 
 undergraduates were to mind their Latin and Greek and 
 nothing else ; or nearly so. And many people here speak 
 of the Union as an institution of very doubtful usefulness. 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 Oxford: 1838. 
 
 We have been up here just a month and a day, enjoyino- 
 
 for the last week of it most glorious weather, greatly to the 
 
 increase of hunting and boating, and to the decrease of 
 
 reading. Among other incidents I have had the pleasure of 
 
 D 2
 
 36 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IIL 
 
 twice meeting the heresiarcli avToraros, namely John Henry 
 Newman, once at a dinner-party, and once at a small and 
 select breakfast. I was introduced, and had the honour 
 of drinking wine with him ; on the strength of all which of 
 course, as is one's boundeu duty, I must turn Newmanist. 
 As a first step in which process, I should rebuke you for the 
 heresy of your last letter, dated (more shame to me) Nov. 
 22. I hoped very much you would come here after your 
 degree was done, but if you continue to rest on Milton's 
 Christian Doctrines for one leg, and Calvin's Institutes for 
 the other, I recommend you to walk away on them as fast as 
 you can from this seat and citadel of orthodoxy. It is dif- 
 ficult here even to obtain assent to JNIilton's greatness as a 
 poet ; quite impossible, I should think, if you are unable to 
 sa}^ that you ' do not know anything about his prose writ- 
 ings.' Also you must be ready to give up that ' irreverent ' 
 third book. Were it not for the happy notion that a man's 
 poetry is not at all affected by his opinions or indeed 
 character and mind altogether, I fear the ' Paradise Lost ' 
 would be utterly imsaleable, except for waste paper, in the 
 University. 
 
 Concerning the Newnianitish phantasm, as some people 
 term the Church, I do not know very much ; but perhaps 
 you may be enlightened a little, and even softened by the 
 knowledge that Newman (I believe decidedly in words, 
 and certainly his real notion is such) holds the supremacy 
 of the auTT) Kad dvrrjv sl\iKpLV7]s Stdvoia, but says that sub- 
 mission to a divinely-appointed body of teachers and 
 governors, to wit, bishops and presbyters and deacons, is 
 the course that is pointed out to us by the aforesaid 
 slXiKpivrp Sidvoia: inasmuch as it is evident to the reason 
 from the circumstances of the case, &c., that the pre- 
 ponderance of probabilities is for this view, viz. that 
 Christian privileges and covenanted salvation have been 
 attached to the use of certain forms and sacraments whose 
 only qualified administrators are the Apostles' successors, the
 
 1839.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 37 
 
 clergy ; and that these gifts and graces cannot be obtained 
 except through the medium of these divinely-appointed 
 priests. All persons therefore who AvilfuUy refuse to re- 
 ceive Grod's blessings through this channel are guilty of 
 very great sin, and put out of the covenanted privileges of 
 Christians. 'Are not Abana and Pharphar, rivers of 
 Dama.scus, better than all the rivers of Judah ? may I not 
 wash in them and be clean ? ' Such is, I believe, the 
 doctrine which they say is but a proper carrying out of the 
 argument of Butler's Analogy. I think its proper answer 
 must be in the lives of good men out of the influence of 
 any such ordinances, though when anyone speaks of such 
 they at once cry ' name,' which it is perhaps difficult to do. 
 As for Milton, he is rejected altogether because of his 
 divorce notions and his neglect of devotions as stated in 
 Johnson's life of him. Doddridge is often mentioned, but 
 I believe there is some charge against him also. This 
 disquisition, counting the Greek, must, I think, make this 
 letter a due member of the proportion proposed in your 
 last — viz. : 
 
 As your letter : a repartee :: this : something digestible. 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 Oxford: April 18, 1839. 
 
 I found that at Rugby I had been quite set down among 
 theological gossips as a Newmanist, but the impression was 
 
 pretty well removed by the time I came away. P , as 
 
 usual, ilowed with a continuous stream of German divinity 
 and Biblical philology. 
 
 Whit-Sunday, May 30. 
 June 12th is Commemoration day ; I liope we shall have 
 one Rugby prize between the five attempts made by 
 Stanley, Lake and myself; and indeed, I believe Conf>-reve 
 and Arnold have also made one apiece ; but the English 
 poems are this year fifty in number, and better than usual
 
 38 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. III. 
 
 in quality, according to Keble, and as mine was rather 
 worse than usual I have but little hope of proving a prize 
 gooseberry; indeed I am afraid I possess none of the 
 necessary qualifications you enumerate. 
 
 I have been reading five books of Plato's Eepublic, and 
 wish to examine you in return as to whether you be a 
 Platonist. 1st. Do you believe that iracra fiddrjcns dvdfivTjais 
 iart ? 2ndly. Do you agree to dividing human nature into 
 TO ^tkoao^ov TO sTTidu/jLostSis, and to eTrcdv/xrjTiKov ? 3rdly. 
 Do you believe that all wickedness is aKovatov and hi 
 dyvoiav ? 4thly. Do you agree to this assertion, ' That 
 the world will never be happy till philosophers are kings, 
 or kings philosophers'? othly. Do you think it would 
 be advisable to turn H.M.'s colony of Van Diemen's Land 
 into a Platonic Eepublic ? the (pvXaKS? whereof should 
 
 be educated at College — — ? (the blanks you must 
 
 fill up for yourself; Queen's College, Vandiemensville is 
 what I conjecture). 
 
 If you have not hitherto studied this wondrous book I 
 recommend you to cast aside those heterodox and heretical 
 authors, Calvin and Milton, and immediately commence 
 upon it. Plato not being a Christian is quite orthodox ; 
 in fact Sewell says that his Eepublic is realised in, and 
 indeed is a sort of prophecy of, the Catholic Church ; 
 Coleridge meanwhile declaring it the most wonderful 
 anticipation of Protestant Christianity. You must really 
 come to Oxford, overcoming circumstances and cacoethes 
 and everything else ; as otherwise I have no prospect 
 whatever of seeing you. It is also advisable that you 
 should see the Arch-Oxford-Tractator before you leave 
 this part of the world, that you may not be ignorant on a 
 topic doubtless interesting even to the remote barbarians 
 in Van Diemen's Land. It is said that Eomanists are 
 increasing, Newmanists increasing, Socinians also, and 
 Eationalists increasing, but all other kinds of men rapidly 
 decreasing, so that on your return to England perhaps
 
 1839.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 39 
 
 you will find Newman Archbishop of Canterbury and 
 Father Confessor to the Queen ; Lord Melbourne (if not 
 burnt) excommunicated, and philosophers in the persons 
 of the Apostles' apostolical ly ordained successors fairly and 
 Platonically established as kings. The seeds of which 
 contingent revolutions it is requisite that you should come 
 and contemplate in Oxford. You will also have the 
 opportunity of seeing Conybeare Pater issuing fulminatory 
 condemnations of the Fathers at the heads of astonished 
 Newmanists from St. Mary's pulpit; himself in shape, 
 conformation, and gestures most like one of his own 
 ichthyosauri, and his voice evidently proceeding from 
 lungs of a fossil character. Again, you will see Chevalier 
 Bunsen, Poet Wordsworth, and Astronomer Herschel 
 metamorphosed into doctors of civil law ; a sight worthy, 
 especially in the second case, of all contemplation. Further- 
 more, there will be boat-races, with much shouting and 
 beer-drinking ; a psychological study of great interest. 
 Cum multis aliis, quge nunc describere longum est. Nil 
 mihi rescribas, attamen ipse veni. 
 
 May 2, 1839. 
 I hope you will carry out with you, or send home for, 
 a good Grermanised Cambridge scholar or historian, as 
 that (next to Paley's Horae Paulinse and Eationalistic 
 Divinity) is the great bulwark against Newmanism. And 
 I have to tell you that Bishop Broughton, your diocesan 
 to be, has lately been sending to Oxford to beg for contri- 
 butions of spare books, fidXicrTa fxsv new, but if not, 
 old, to set up a clerical library in Australia. Such oppor- 
 tunities of disseminating Patristical and Ecclesiastical 
 views are never missed by the ardent Newmanistic spirits, 
 old and young, specially the latter. Whereby, unless the 
 convict Clerisy be slower than their convict parishioners 
 in their intellectual development, Newmanism is not im- 
 probably already founded in the far East on the foundation 
 of Kerr and Bramhall, St. Ignatius, St. Basil, and the 
 Oxford tracts.
 
 40 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. III. 
 
 Pray come; and write and let me know. I said in 
 my last — Nil mihi rescribas, attamen ipse veni. But 
 Latin is of course to be taken rhetorically and figura- 
 tively, and ' nil mihi rescribas ' means only — Come, if you 
 can, before your letter. 
 
 To J. N. Simpkinson, Esq. 
 
 Oxford: Die Cele]perrimi Laurentii Sheriffii, 1839. 
 
 I wish you would recommend me some book to give 
 Grell before he goes to Tasmania. I should not like to 
 give him anything ephemeral, which is a fault attaching 
 itself, I suppose, even to ' Carlyle's Essays,' which are just 
 published, though I admire him extremely in general, and 
 these essays even more than the 'Revolution.' Has he 
 got a ' Boswell's Johnson ' ? I suppose so. Carlyle says 
 Johnson is the last of the English Tories; all since him 
 have been but Toryish men. He has got an article on 
 Boswell which is extremely beautiful ; likewise on Burns, 
 which is so too. He is certainly, however, somewhat 
 heathenish ; but that, it seems to me, is the case with all 
 literature, old and new, EngHsh and foreign, worth calling 
 literature, which comes in one's way. 
 
 I truly hope to escape the vortex of philosophism and 
 discussion (whereof Ward is the centre), as it is the most 
 exhausting exercise in the world ; and I assure you I 
 quite makarize you at Cambridge for your liberty from it. 
 
 Two fragments written about this time are here given. 
 
 October 1839. 
 Truth is a golden thread, seen here and there 
 In small bright specks upon the visible side 
 Of our strange being's party-coloured web. 
 How rich the converse ! 'Tis a vein of ore
 
 1839.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 41 
 
 Emerging now and tlien on Earth's rude breast, 
 
 But llowing i'ull below. Like islands set 
 
 At distant intervals on Ocean's face, 
 
 We see it on our course ; but in the depths 
 
 The mystic colonnade unbroken keeps 
 
 Its faithful way, invisible but sure. 
 
 Oh, if it be .so, wherefore do we men 
 
 Pass by so many marks, so little heeding ? 
 
 Oxford: October 16, 1839. 
 
 So I went wrong. 
 Grievously wrong, but folly crushed itself, 
 And vanity o'ertoppling fell, and time 
 And healthy discipline and some neglect, 
 Labour and solitary hours revived 
 Somewhat, at least, of that original frame. 
 Oh, well do I remember then the days 
 When on some grassy slope (what time the sun 
 Was sinking, and the solemn eve came down 
 With its blue vapour upon field and wood 
 And elm-embosomed spire) once more again 
 I fed on sweet emotion, and my heart 
 With love o'erllowed, or hushed itself in fear 
 Unearthly, yea celestial. Once again 
 My heart was hot within me, and, me seemed, 
 I too had in my body breath to wind 
 The magic horn of song ; I too possessed 
 Up-welling in my being's depths a fount 
 Of the true poet-nectar whence to fill 
 The golden urns of verse. 
 
 To J. N. Simpkinson, Esq. 
 
 Tuesday, December 21, 1839. 
 Q s Newmanistic tendencies are, I am afraid, as cer- 
 tain if not as strong as you represent. He is so determined 
 on having a conscious system that these tendencies are, I 
 think, not unnatural. I hope you do not think me much 
 perverted. The resistance, when there is occasion for it,
 
 42 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. lU. 
 
 against proselytisers, is of the most vague unsystematic 
 kind, resting in the most unstable way on intuitions, 
 idealities, &c. &c., but I am not conscious of being in any 
 wise leavened by them. 
 
 What do you think I have been bestowing the firstfruits 
 of Christmas idleness upon ? The first part of * Die Leiden 
 des jungen Werthers,' and really with more satisfaction and 
 admiration than I expected; or rather, I have found all 
 the power and little of the extravagance I looked for. I 
 have read, too, with great pleasure, Schiller's ' Votiv- 
 Tafeln;' at least, about half of them. Here is one — 
 
 Hast du etwas? so theile mir's mit, und icli zahle was recht ist. 
 Bist du etwas? o denn tauschen die Seelen wir aus. 
 
 Again — 
 
 Allen gehort was du denkst, dein Eigen ist rnir was du fiihlest ; 
 Soil er dein Eigenthum seyn, fiihle den Gott den du denkst. 
 
 I have but little appetite for work, mathematical or 
 classical ; and there is as little compulsion to it, and as 
 much enticement from it as is possible, in our ways of life 
 at Oxford. 
 
 November 2i, 1839. 
 
 Whence comest thou ? sliady lane, and why and how ? 
 
 Thou, where with idle heart, ten years ago, 
 
 I wandered, and with childhood's paces slow 
 
 So long uiithoiight of, and remembered now ! 
 
 Again in vision clear thy pathwayed side 
 
 I tread, and view thy orchard plots again 
 
 With yellow fruitage hung, — and glimmering grain 
 
 Standing or shocked through the thick hedge espied. 
 
 This hot stiU noon of August brings the sight ; 
 
 This quelling silence as of eve or night. 
 
 Wherein Earth (feeling as a mother may 
 
 After her travail's latest bitterest throes) 
 
 Looks up, so seemeth it, one half repose. 
 
 One half in effort, straining, suffering still.
 
 1840.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 43 
 
 This I wrote in some cornfields near Liverpool, on one of 
 our few fine days. 
 
 To J. P. Gell, Esq. 
 
 New Year's Day, 1840 (To Hobart Town, V. D.L.). 
 Liverpool: January 16, 1840. 
 
 Of the three principal theological appearances spoken 
 
 of for this past autumn, two have appeared — 'Arnold on 
 
 Prophecy,' as you know, I suppose, and two fresh volumes 
 
 of ' Fronde's Eemains ;' the third, ' Julius Hare's Sermons,' 
 
 are still only in preparation. Oxford is, as usual, replete 
 
 with Newraanism and Newmanistic gossip, from which it 
 
 is one blessing for you that you are preserved. I saw a 
 
 letter from Arnold, dated P'ox How, January, in which he 
 
 said that not the school-house only, but the school would 
 
 be, he believed, full next half-year. 
 
 To J. N. Slmpkinson, Esq. 
 
 26 Castle Street, Liverpool : August 27, 1840. 
 
 The English verse disappointment, as you suppose, was 
 no heavy burden to bear, and if Burbidge has sent you 
 the specimen line he threatened to do, you will say that 
 it should have been no disappointment at' all. I have 
 been since the vacation three weeks at Grasmere with 
 Ward, not very far from Thorney How ; the rest of the 
 time here studying the ethics, &c., for November. I shall 
 go for a day or two to Kugby at the beginning of October, 
 and then to Oxford about a fortnitiht before term com- 
 mences, to effect the removal I must undergo from College 
 to lodgings ; indeed, I should go earlier for the sake of 
 better reading, but my two brothers are going out to 
 America together (the younger for the first time), and will 
 hardly be off sooner than October. 
 
 That I have been a good deal unsettled in mind at 
 times at Oxford, and that I have done a number of foolish
 
 44 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. III. 
 
 things, is true enough, and I daresay the change from 
 Rugby life to its luxury and apparent irresponsibility has 
 had a good deal of ill effect upon me. 
 
 By Miss A. J. Clough. 
 
 ■ In the summer of 1840 he stayed for a time at Grasmere, 
 reading with Mr. Ward, and then spent a fortnight in a 
 walking journey through Wales with his eldest brother ; 
 the rest of the vacation he spent at Liverpool with his 
 family. He became at this time more and more uneasy 
 and unsettled in his mind, and his parents became anxious 
 about him. But in th'e summer of 1840, his troubles of 
 mind seemed the greatest. His tendency to High Church 
 views had apparently passed away, and he was afloat on 
 another sea of thought, and no one knew his mind at 
 home. His health, too, suffered, and his mother and I 
 grieved to see his dark hair fast falling off. But he was 
 as thoughtful and considerate as ever : he brought home 
 his most interesting new books; he taught me Grerman; 
 and he used to accompany me in visits among the back 
 lanes and streets of Liverpool, where I feared to go alone, 
 in search of my favourite scholars. He was always tender 
 to the feelings of others, and never caused needless pain 
 by showing the change in his feelings roughly, but very 
 gently he loosened the cords that bound him to the tradi- 
 tion of his early life. 
 
 He went back to college in October, and ought then to 
 have gone up for his degree, but he wrote to his father 
 that he had made up his mind not to go in for it till the 
 spring ; but that as this was the case, he should for the 
 future support himself, without assistance, on his scholar- 
 ship and exhibition. He would not come home at Christ- 
 mas, but remained up at Oxford during the vacation.
 
 1841.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 45 
 
 To J. N. SimpJdnson, Esq. 
 
 Oxford: Fob. 16, 1841. 
 
 I should like much to have heard Carlyle's complaint 
 against Coleridge. I keep wavering between admiration 
 of his exceedingly great perceptive and analytical power, 
 and other wonderful points, and inclination to turn away 
 altogether from a man who has so great a lack of all 
 reality and actuality. By-the-bye, there is a new and 
 very striking portrait of him just published by Holloway, 
 which I have seen in our Coleridge's rooms, and which, he 
 says, is said by those who knew him to be the best by far 
 there exists. 
 
 We had a two days' visit from Arnold just before the 
 half-year began, I thought he was not in very good 
 spirits ; but he was certainly not out of heart. 
 
 Oxford is now in full enjoyment of the Carnival. You 
 have no idea how fast things are going here Eomewards. 
 The more need, therefore, for Hare's defence of Luther, 
 who is in terrible ill odour here. Is it ever to appear ? I 
 have some idea of going to London at Easter, to get some 
 lectures of Lowe, my tutor of Easter Term, who is now 
 established there. 
 
 I heard the other day that Walrond was to come up to 
 try for our scholarship. Burbidge has spoken a good deal 
 of his coming here instead of to Cambridge. I told him 
 that I thought your discipline infinitely superior in the 
 way of instruction ; and so I feel sure it must be, though 
 I am willing we should be thought superior in other 
 points. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 [After failing to obtain a first-class in the schools.] 
 
 Oxford : Sunday, June 6, 1841. 
 
 You must not trouble yourself about my class. I do 
 not care a straw for it myself,*and was much more glad to
 
 46 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. III. 
 
 get it ov^er than I was disappointed at hearing of its result. 
 I suppose a good many, whom I ought to wish to gratify, 
 are disappointed a good deal, and it will perhaps leave me 
 without an adequate supply of pupils this summer ; but I 
 have already an offer of one for a month, and do not des- 
 pair of two or three more before term ends. Otherwise 
 it does not matter, I think, at all ; and I can assure you 
 it has not lessened my own opinion of ray ability, for I 
 did my papers not a quarter as well as my reading would 
 naturally have enabled me to do ; and if I got a second 
 with my little finger, it would not have taken two hands 
 to get a double first (there's for you I) Neither must you 
 think that it is about my class that I have been bothered 
 during the last year, and that I must therefore be disap- 
 pointed. I can assure you that it was principally about 
 other things altogether, though you need not read or say 
 this to my father or mother, imless you think it will do 
 any good, which I suppose it won't. 
 
 I did not like going up last October, though I daresay 
 I should have done better then, because I had not read 
 what I ought ; but after having so read, I had so much 
 less care about it than I ought to have had, that I mis- 
 managed everything in every way I could. 
 
 Besides, you know the object of honours is to make 
 men read and not to make them distinguished, and 
 if I have read, it is all the same whether I am distin- 
 guished or not, and, so far as I am concerned, perhaps 
 better. Tha disappointment has been general ; tw^o or 
 three certain firsts, besides myself, are in the second, and 
 two or three hopeful ones in the third. Balliol has, how- 
 ever, got two of the four prizes. So we are getting up 
 again in the world. 
 
 I only wish I might go home, but if I don't stay here 
 every day to eat bread and butter out of the College but- 
 tery till Wednesday fortnight I shall lose 60/. Wherefore 
 you and I must both bo patient.
 
 1841.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 47 
 
 Commemoration is to be a week earlier, as Prince 
 Albert and the Duke are to be here at that time. 
 
 I had a delightful walk to Braunston and Eugby, and 
 still more so back here — about fifty miles, and mostly 
 through fields and green lanes — quite a new way, and far 
 pleasanter than the old one. 
 
 Oxford: June 1841. 
 
 I am glad my explanations have relieved your disap- 
 pointment, though I hope you will not blab my bravado 
 any further. However, it is not perhaps so great as you 
 may think, for I do not doubt there are many in every 
 examination who are capable of as much and fail much in 
 the same way as I, only nobody knows. I am not sorry to 
 lose reputation, for it is often a troublesome companion. 
 Did I tell you that Ward, my friend and George's, 
 has been turned out of his tutorship for Ultra-New- 
 manism ? 
 
 To J. N. Simpldnson, Esq. 
 
 Oxford: July 11, 1841. 
 . , . And now to thank you for the kindness of your 
 letter. You will have seen that I am inclined rather to 
 care too little than too much about it. My papers, I am 
 quite sure, deserved no more than a second, and so I was, 
 too, at the time ; there can be no question as to the fair- 
 ness of the decision. At the same time, knowing as I do 
 how far my papers were from representing my acquirement 
 and my usual ability of writing upon that acquirement, I 
 can measure more than any one else how much was in my 
 average grasp. As for the causes of this mismanagement, 
 I do not feel very guilty about them, though it does not 
 therefore follow that I ought not so to feel. The only real 
 loss that 1 care about is that of pupils whom I should have 
 been glad to have had this summer for the money's sake, 
 and now I hardly expect to get any.
 
 48 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IV. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONS OF PEOFESSOK SHAIKP — LETTERS ELECTED 
 
 FELLOW OF ORIEL — DEATH OF DR. ARNOLD. 
 
 By Professor J. C. Shairp. 
 
 It was towards the end of 1840 that I first saw A. H. 
 Clough. As a freshman I looked with respect approach- 
 ing to awe on the senior scholar of whom I had heard so 
 much, stepping out on Sunday mornings to read the first 
 lesson in Balliol Chapel. Hov/ clearly I remember his 
 massive figure, in scholar's surplice, standing before the 
 brass eagle, and his deep feeling tones as he read some 
 chapter from the Hebrew prophets. At that time he was 
 the eldest and every way the first of a remarkable band of 
 scholars. The younger undergraduates felt towards him 
 a distant reverence, as a lofty and profound nature quite 
 above themselves whom they could not quite make out, 
 but who was sure- to be some day great. Profaner spirits, 
 nearer his own standing, sometimes made a joke of his 
 then exceeding silence and reserve, and of his unworldly 
 wavs. But as he was out of College rooms and reading 
 hard for his degree, we freshmen only heard of his repu- 
 tation from a distance, and seldom came in contact with 
 him. 
 
 It must have been early in 1841 that he first asked me 
 to breakfast with him. He was then living in a small 
 cottage, or cottage-like house, standing by itself, a little 
 apart from Holywell. There he used to bathe every 
 morning all the winter through, in the cold Holywell baths, 
 and read hard all day. There were one or two other fresh-
 
 1»41.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 49 
 
 men there at breakfast. If I remember right none of 
 the party were very talkative. 
 
 I have heard that about that time he wrote one day in 
 fun an oracle, in the style of Herodotus, to his brother 
 scholar, who was reading like himself for the Schools. The 
 Greek I forget ; the translation he sent with it ran some- 
 thing like this : — 
 
 When as of Lancashire 
 
 Shall in the schools preside, 
 And Wynter* to St. Mary's go 
 
 With the pokers by his side ; 
 Two scholars then of Balliol, 
 
 Who on double firsts had reckoned, 
 Between them two shall with much ado 
 
 Scarce get a double second. 
 
 This turned out only too true an oracle. Since the 
 beginning of class-lists, the succession of firsts among 
 Balliol scholars was unbroken. And few Balliol scholars 
 had equalled, none ever surpassed, Clough's reputation. I 
 well remember going, towards the end of May or beginning 
 of June, with one of the scholars of my own standing to 
 the school quadrangle to hear the class-list read out, the 
 first time I had heard it. What was our surprise when 
 the list was read out, and neither of our scholars appeared 
 in the first class. We rushed to Balliol and announced it 
 to the younger Fellows who were standing at their open 
 window. Many causes were assigned at the time for this 
 failure, some in the examiners, some in Clough's then 
 state of spirits ; but whatever the cause, I think the result 
 for some years shook faith in firsts among Clough's 
 contemporaries. It made a great impression on others ; 
 on himself I fancy it made but little. I never heard him 
 afterwards allude to it as a thing of any consequence. He 
 once told me he was sick of contentions for prizes and 
 honours before he left Kugby. 
 
 * Head of St. Johft's, and at that time Vice Chancellor. 
 
 E
 
 50 I>ETTERS AXB REMAIXS OP [Chap. IV. 
 
 In the November of the same year lie tried for a Balliol 
 Fellowship, but was not successful. Tait,* however, was 
 strong in his favour, and, I believe, some other of the 
 Fellows. I remember one of them telling me at the time 
 that a character of Saul which Clough wrote in that 
 examination was, I think he said, the best, most original 
 thing he had ever seen written in any examination. But 
 Oriel had at that time a way of finding out original genius 
 better than either Balliol or the Schools. In the spring of 
 1842, Arthur Hugh Clough was elected P'ellow of Oriel, the 
 last examination I believe in which Newman took part. The 
 announcement of that success I remember well. It was 
 on the Friday morning of the Easter week of that year. 
 The examination w^as finished on the Thursday evening. 
 I had asked Clough and another friend, who was a candidate 
 at the same time, to breakfast with me on the Friday 
 morning as their work was just over. Most of the scholars 
 of the College were staying up and came to breakfast too. 
 The party consisted of about a dozen. We had little 
 notion that anything about the examination would be 
 known so soon, and were all sitting quietly, having just 
 finished breakfast, but not yet risen from the table. The 
 door opened wide; entered a Fellow of another College, and, 
 drawing himself up to his full height, he addressed the 
 other candidate : ' I am sorry to say you have not got it.' 
 Then, ' Clough, you have ; ' and stepping forw^ard into the 
 middle of the room, held out his hand, with 'Allow me 
 to congratulate you.' We were all so little thinking of 
 the Fellow9hip and so taken aback by this formal an- 
 nouncement, that it was some little time before we knew 
 what it was all about. The first thing that recalled my 
 presence of mind was seeing the delight on the face of 
 Clough's younger brother, who was present. 
 
 In the summer of 1842, while I was reading in a retired 
 
 * Thepi'pspnt Bishop of London, at that tim< Fellow and Tutor of Balliol 
 College.
 
 1841.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 51 
 
 part of Wales with two or three others, Clough, then wander- 
 ing through the Welsh mountains, one morning looked 
 in on us. I took a walk with him and he at once led me 
 up Moel Wyu, the highest mountain within reach. Two 
 things I remember that day ; one, that he spoke a good 
 deal (for him) of Dr. Arnold, whose death had happened 
 only a few weeks before ; another, that a storm came down 
 upon the mountain when we were halfway up. In the 
 midst of it we lay for some time close above a small 
 mountain tarn, and watched the storm-wind working on 
 the face of the lake, tearing and torturing the water into 
 most fantastic, almost ghostly shapes, the like of which I 
 never saw before or since. These mountain sights, though 
 he did not say much, he used to eye most observantly. 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Liverpool: September 11, 1841. 
 
 Since I wrote last, two important events have befallen 
 me ; first, my descent into a second class, of which perhaps 
 Simpkinson may have informed you; and second, the failure 
 of my father's commercial concern, which took place while 
 I was in Westmoreland about a month ago. 
 
 I am now busily engaged here with pupils, of whom I 
 have nine occupying me from 9 A.m. to 4 p.m., and, whether 
 flourishing or not under ray management, paying me a 
 good price. They are most of them Rugby fellows de- 
 tained here by typhus fever fears, and some of them as 
 idle as the idlest big fellows of the shell in our time ; 
 some of them, however, pleasant enough to deal with, and 
 none very stupid. I am daily expecting to hear of the 
 recall which will put an end to this contraband trade, but 
 I shall have two or three remaining till the quarter. I am 
 at present earning at the rate of 1,000^. per annum, but 
 of this I have only had one week and do not expect more 
 than another. 
 
 e2
 
 52 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IV. 
 
 The first month of the vacation I spent at Grasmere, 
 with young Walrond. We had a pleasant month, or 
 rather six weeks, at Grasmere, and one in considerable 
 contrast to -Liverpool tutoring. Arnold was there for the 
 last fortnight, and we saw a good deal of him. He got 
 while we were there his appointment to the Kegius Pro- 
 fessorship of Modern History at Oxford, with which he 
 seemed much pleased, and not less so because it came at 
 the last moment of Whig patronage. He will come up 
 annually to deliver a course, but that is all ; the emolument 
 is small, but he said it was exactly what he had been want- 
 ing to give him an Archimedean standing-place. A fifty- 
 five page discussion of Arnold is to appear in the next 
 ' British Critic,' from the pen of Ward, of whose deposition 
 from his tutorship on account of his adhesion to the world- 
 famous No. XC, some one perhaps may have told you. 
 
 By his Sister, 
 
 In the spring of 1842 he came home, to our great joy, 
 victorious. He had been elected Fellow of Oriel, and it 
 cheered the drooping spirits of the family. His own 
 spirits, too, revived, and he was much happier and more 
 like what he had been before he went to College. 
 
 But that summer he suffered along with many others a 
 severe blow in the death of Dr. Arnold, who died in June 
 1842. Arthur was at home just after it, and he was com- 
 pletely overwhelmed. He could not rest, and seemed 
 unable to take interest in anything, and he went away 
 almost immediately into Wales and wandered about there 
 alone. In general he never could speak of what troubled 
 him most. 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Oxford: April 17, 1842. 
 Since I wrote last I have been in for the Balliol Fellow- 
 ship, and have been rejected ; and for the Oriel, to which
 
 1842]. ARTHUR HUGH CLOUOII. 53 
 
 you will be glad to hear I was elected, about a fortnight 
 ago. Here I am now fairly domesticated, having under- 
 gone the pomps and vanities of High-table and Common- 
 room almost daily without intermission since term began. 
 I am very sorry, however, to leave Balliol, which I confess to 
 liking better, I fear, than Kugby itself, and never expect 
 to find equalled by Oriel ; nor do I altogether like the 
 change from independent bachelorship to High-table and 
 Common-room-dom. Our resident Fellows are Newman, 
 who, however, is mostly at his parish of Littlemore, two 
 miles off, where he has lodgings ; Litton ; Eden, one of the 
 working men of the University business, examiner in the 
 schools at present, and for some years tutor and chief dis- 
 ciplinarian of Oriel, though now he is out of office ; then 
 we have Marriott ; Frasei*, a tutor, who is an Ireland 
 scholar, a Shrewsbury man; Church; Christie; Cornish, 
 on a local foundation ; and Dayman, who is married, and 
 retains his fellowship therefore only for this his year of 
 grace ; lastly. Chase, elected with me. I am busy also with 
 pupils, of which I 'have more than I wish just at present. 
 
 The Univei'sity is listening as patiently as it can to 
 Garbett's Bampton Lectures, which are each an hour and 
 a half in length. You know, I suppose, his contest for 
 the Professorship of Poetry with Williams (of the 
 Cathedral). Newmanism is left apparently to do as it ! 
 pleases for the present ; three or four undergraduates and 
 one bookseller have lately crossed from its ranks to those 
 of Komanism, but in general things are very quiet. 
 
 November 5, 1842. 
 
 I am to tell you from Stanley, that there is a subscrip- 
 tion going forward for a memorial to Arnold ; first, a 
 scholarship at Oxford or Eugby, to be held first by his 
 sons, and to be called by his name ; and secondly, a 
 monument of some kind in the chapel. I have engaged 
 to write a life of Agesilaus for a biographical dictionary. 
 Also, I have more dining out than I used to have, owing 
 
 ^
 
 54 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IV. 
 
 to my exaltation in the academical world. Even to-day, 
 which, as being Friday, should be, according to Oxford, 
 anything but a feast, I have a heterodox engagement 
 which will . occupy two hours at least. I am however 
 getting on pretty well this term, perhaps because I have 
 more to do ; the long vacation I spent chiefly in Ireland, 
 with Carey, whom you perhaps remember among the 
 attaches of Messiter and Fox, at Price's. He was very 
 desirous to be at home, and yet to have some one to read 
 with him ; so I was persuaded to go with him, and get 
 another pupil to go also to Cork Harbour, his father being 
 General in command of the Cork district, and living at 
 Cove. We saw all the world military there, captains, 
 colonels, and knights in arms, which last title might be 
 given to some of the infant Careys (the family consisting 
 of a dozen, besides one son in Afghanistan), for it seems 
 they all go into the army, excepting the genius under my 
 tutorage ; and even he says that if he does not get a good 
 degree, he shall give up all thoughts of the Church, and 
 get a commission. I came back sooner than I intended 
 to England, to see my father and brother start for 
 America. 
 
 Also, I may inform you that I had a bathe this morning 
 at our mutual friend's. Parson's Pleasure — the tempera- 
 ture both of air and water in nowise, however, resembling 
 that which you experienced there, it being the coldest 
 morning I have bathed this year. 
 
 I have great reason to thank Carey for having delivered 
 me already this week from two Common-room and one 
 Head-of-a-House dinner-parties at the early hour of eight ; 
 which abrupt retirement also, if the reason be announced 
 with the judicious unostentatious-audible tone, serves the 
 purpose of an advertisement similar to the creaking-booted 
 physician-incipient's periodical retirement from public 
 worship.
 
 1843.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIL 55 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Oriel: Feb. 23, 1843. 
 
 I have no news to tell you, unless that Carey has been 
 here, and announced himself as about to receive a com- 
 mission and go to India. I believe my last communication 
 was before our College journey to Wadley to hold the 
 JNIanorial Court. We were a party of seven, the Provost, 
 the senior Treasurer, and the Steward (or agent, a solicitor) 
 in a chaise ; myself and three other Fellows on horseback. 
 We had luncheon at the Manor House, held the Court, 
 the principal business (so to call the transactions, for they 
 hardly deserve the name) consisting in settling disputes 
 about some common land, of which the deeds of the Manor 
 have of course the superintendence and chief rights. In 
 old times these Courts, at which regular juries are still 
 formed and sworn in ' to inquire,' i.e. hold inquisition and 
 try cases ' for the Queen,' had power over life and death. 
 However, all the death we caused was that of the lamb 
 which was slaughtered to provide our dinner at the inn, 
 where we dined together before returning. The place is 
 sixteen miles off, and we had a pleasant ride home by moon- 
 light. 
 
 June 7, 1843. 
 
 I have just been hearing Newman preach. Next week [j 
 I shall be very busy examining candidates for our Scholar- 
 ship, and then will come collections, that is, examinations J 
 of the men before they go down. Dr. Pusey has been 
 condemned by the A'^ice Chancellor and a Court of six 
 Doctors, for a sermon he preached about a fortnight ago. 
 He is forbidden to preach before the University for two 
 years. He issued a protest against the decision, and to- 
 day I understand there is a meeting of JNIasters of Arts 
 about it, in which I fancv Ward must be concerned.
 
 56 LETTEES AND KEMAINS OF [Chap. IV. 
 
 By Professor Skairp. 
 
 Early in the autumn of 1843, Clougli came to Grasmere 
 to read with a Balliol reading-party, of which I was one. 
 He was with us about six weeks, I think staying till 
 towards the end of September. This was his earliest long 
 vacation party, all things on a smaller scale than his later 
 ones by Loch Ness, or on Dee-side, but still very pleasant. 
 He lived in a small lodging immediately to the west of 
 Grrasmere church ; we in a farm-house on the lake. 
 During these weeks I read the Greek tragedians with him, 
 and did Latin prose. His manner of translating, especi- 
 ally the Greek choruses, was quite peculiar ; a quaint 
 archaic style of language, keeping rigidly to the Greek 
 order of the words, and so bringing out their expression 
 better, more forcibly and poetically than any other 
 translations I had heard. \\^hen work was done w^ used 
 to walk in the afternoon with him all over that delightful 
 country. His ' eye to country ' was wonderful. He knew 
 the whole lie of the different dales relatively to each 
 other; every tarn, beck, and bend in them. He used, if I 
 remember right, to draw pen and ink maps, showing us 
 the whole lineaments of the district. Without any ob- 
 trusive enthusiasm, but in his own quiet manly way, he 
 seemed as if he never could get too much of it — never 
 walk too far or too often over it. Bathing too formed one 
 of his daily occupations, up in a retired pool of the stream 
 that afterwards becomes the Rotha, as it comes out of 
 Easedale. One walk, our longest, was on a Saturday, up 
 Easedale, over the Raise by Greenup, Borrowdale, Honister 
 Crag, imder the starlight, to Buttermere. In the small inn 
 there we stayed all Sunday. Early on Monday morning 
 we walked by two mountain passes, to a farm at the head 
 of Wastwater to breakfast. On the way we crossed Enner- 
 dale, and up the pass close under the nearly perpendicular 
 precipices of the Pillar — a tall mountain, which is the
 
 1843.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 57 
 
 scene of Wordsworth's pastoral of ' The Brothers.' From 
 the head of Wastvvater, up past the great gorge of the 
 Mickledoor, to the top of Scawfell, then down past the 
 east side of Bowfell towards Langdale Pikes, and so home 
 to Grasmere. As we passed under Bowfell a beautiful 
 autumn afternoon, we lay a long time by the side of the 
 lovely Angle Tarn. The sun, just before he sunk beside 
 Bowfell, was showering down his light, which dimpled the 
 smooth face of the tarn like heavy drops of sun-rain. Every 
 now and then a slight breeze would come and scatter the rays 
 broadcast over the little loch, as if some unseen hand was 
 sowing it with golden grain. It was as memorable an appear- 
 ance as that ditferent one we had seen a year ago on Moel 
 Wyn. These things, though Clough observed closely, and 
 took pleasure in, he did not speak often about, much less 
 indulge in raptures. 
 
 Some of our party were very good hill-men. One day, five 
 or six in all set out a race from our door by Grasmere Lake 
 to the top of Fairfield. He was the second to reach the sum- 
 mit. His action up hill was peculiar ; he used to lay 
 himself forward almost horizontally towards the slope and 
 take very long strides which carried him quickly over the 
 ground. Few men, so stout as he then was, could have 
 matched him up a mountain. 
 
 Shortly after this time at Oxford, somewhere that is 
 between 1843 and 1845, 1 remember to have heard him 
 speak at a small debating society called the Decade, in 
 which were discussed often graver subjects, and in a less 
 popular way, than in the Union. Having been an unfre- 
 quent attender, I heard him only twice. But both times, 
 what he said and the way he said it, were so marked and 
 weighty as to have stuck to memory when almost every- 
 thing else then spoken has been forgotten. The first time 
 was in Oriel Common-room ; the subject proposed — * That 
 Tennyson was a greater poet than Wordsworth.' This 
 was one of the earliest expressions of that popularity
 
 58 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IV. 
 
 — since become nearly universal — which I remember. 
 Clough spoke against the proposition, and stood up for 
 Wordsworth's greatness with singular wisdom and modera- 
 tion. He granted fully that Wordsworth was often prosy, 
 that whole pages of the ' Excursion ' had better have been 
 written in prose ; but still, when he was at his best, he was 
 much greater than any other modern English poet, saying 
 his best things without knowing they were so good, and 
 then drawling on into prosaic tediousness, without being 
 aware where the inspiration failed and the prose began. 
 In this kind of unconsciousness, I think he said, lay much 
 of his power. One of the only other times I heard him 
 speak was about the same time when a meeting of the 
 Decade was held in Balliol Common-room. The subject 
 of debate was — ' That the character of a gentleman was 
 in the present day made too much of.' To understand 
 the drift of this would require one to know how highly 
 pleasant manners and a good exterior are rated in Oxford 
 at all tjmes, and to understand something of the peculiar 
 mental atmosphere of Oxford at that time, Clough spoke 
 neither for nor against the proposition ; but for an hour 
 and a half — well on to two hours — he went into the origin 
 of the ideal, historically tracing from mediaeval times how 
 much was implied originally in the notion of a " gentle 
 knight." Truthfulness, consideration for others (even self- 
 sacrifice), courtesy, and the power of giving outward 
 expression to these moral qualities. From this high stan- 
 dard he traced the deterioration into the modern Brum- 
 magem pattern which gets the name. These truly gen- 
 tlemen of old time had invented for themselves a whole 
 economy of manners, which gave true expression to what 
 was really in them, to the ideal in which they lived. 
 These manners, true in them, ])ecame false when adopted 
 traditionally and copied from without by modern men 
 placed in quite different circumstances, and living dif- 
 ferent lives. When the same qualities are in the hearts
 
 1843.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 5<> 
 
 of men now, as truly as in tlie best of old time, they will 
 fashion for themselves a new expression, a new economy 
 of manners suitable to their place and time. But many 
 men now wholly devoid of the inward reality, yet catching 
 at the reputation of it, adopt these old traditional ways of 
 speaking and of bearing themselves, though they express 
 nothing that is reall}^ in them. 
 
 One expression I remember he used to illustrate the 
 truth that where the true gentle spirit exists, it will ex- 
 press itself in its own rather than in the traditional way. 
 ' I have known peasant men and women in the humblest 
 places, in whom dwelt these qualities as truly as they ever 
 did in the best of lords and ladies, and who had invented 
 for themselves a whole economy of manners to express 
 them, who were very " poets of courtesy." ' 
 
 His manner of speaking was very characteristic, slow 
 and deliberate, never attempting rhetorical flow, stopping 
 at times to think the right thing, or to feel for the exactly 
 fitting word, but with a depth of suggestiveness, a hold of 
 reality, a poetry of thought, not found combined in any 
 other Oxonian of our time. 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Liverpool : October 8, 1843. 
 I do not think I am particularly inclined to become a 
 Puseyite, though it is very likely my Puseyite position 
 may prevent my becoming anything else ; and I am rumi- 
 nating, in the hope of escaping these terrible alternatives, 
 a precipitate flight from Oxford, that is, as soon as my 
 exhibition expires, for I cannot think of sacrificing 601. on 
 any consideration. Also, I have a very large amount of 
 objection, or rather repugnance, to sign ' ex animo ' the 
 thirty-nine Articles, which it would be singular and un- 
 natural not to do if r stayed in Oxford, as without one's 
 M.A. degree one of course stands quite still, and has no
 
 <60 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IV. 
 
 resource for employment except private pupils and private 
 reading. It is not so much from any definite objection to 
 this or that point, as general dislike to subscription, and 
 strong feeling of its being a bondage and a very heavy 
 one, and one that may cramp and cripple one for life. 
 
 What to do, if I don't stay at Oxford, is a very different 
 question. I do not dislike the tutor's work at Oriel, but 
 without taking an M.A. I cannot go on with it ; and if, as 
 I supposed, I give up both this and residence, where to go 
 and what to do will be a perplexity. However, I shall 
 do nothing &(tts durjKsaTov ti iradslv before this time year ; 
 though, as to the tutorship, I shall probably have to decide 
 before this reaches you. 
 
 I have employed this Midsummer vacation half in going 
 abroad, and half with pupils at Grrasmere. I left England 
 the 1st of July, with Walrond ; went to Havre, Paris, Lyons, 
 Marseilles, Grenoa, Leghorn, where Burbidge joined us; 
 with him we went to Pisa and Florence, and from Florence 
 made excursions to the monasteries of Vallombrosa, Ca- 
 maldoli, and Laverna. I was then ill for about a week at 
 Fioreuce ; left Walrond and Burbidge, and started for 
 England. I went by Bologna, Parma, and Piacenza, to 
 Milan ; saw the Cathedral, the most beautiful building I 
 ever beheld, as also the Leonardo da Vinci, which i?, I 
 think, the most beautiful painting. Then I crossed the 
 Simplon, went up the Ehone, over the Grimsel Pass, and 
 one or two others in the Bernese Oberland, and so to 
 Thun and Berne, and thence by Basle and the Rhine 
 home. I liked Switzerland much better than Italy myself, 
 principally, perhaps, because it was so exceedingly hot, 
 and so impossible to enjoy exercise, in the latter ; perhaps, 
 also, in some degree, from being continually lionised about 
 galleries and the like, which is far less agreeable than 
 walking through the beauty of a country. 
 
 I went off directly after my return to Gfrasmere, where I 
 had a party of pupils waiting for me, and there passed six
 
 1843.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 61 
 
 weeks of a very pleasant mixture of work and walking 
 about. Stanley was at f'ox How for tbe last three weeks, 
 working at the memoir, 
 
 "We have all been reading a grand new philosophy-book, 
 ' Mill on Logic ; ' very well written at any rate, and * strin- 
 gent if not sound.'
 
 62 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 DEATH OF A. H. CLOUGh's YOUNGEST BROTHER — DEATH OF HIS 
 
 FATHER — LETTERS FROM SCOTLAND RECOLLECTIONS BY 
 
 PROFESSOR SHAIRP — LETTERS FROM OXFORD. 
 
 By Miss A. J. Clough. 
 
 In November 1843, our youngest brother Greorge died 
 suddenly at Charleston, after only a few days' illness. 
 None of his family were with him, and the first ill news 
 that came was the news of his death. My father was at 
 Boston, on his way to join my brother, when the tidings 
 reached him. Straitened circumstances and much sorrow 
 pressed on those at home. Arthur was at Oxford when 
 the evil news came, but he hastened home as soon as he 
 could, in December, and did all in his power to cheer 
 and help us. 
 
 In July 1844, my father returned home ill. He never 
 recovered the shock he had received in hearing of his son's 
 death, when alone at Boston, and, after three months' lin- 
 gering at home, he died. At this time my eldest brother 
 also was absent in America till immediately before my 
 father's death. During the long vacation, Arthur went 
 first to Patterdale for a month with Mr. M. Arnold and 
 Mr. Walrond, and spent the rest of the time at home, 
 except about five weeks, when he was with pupils in 
 Yorkshire. During this time he devoted himself con- 
 stantly to tlie care of his father, and to cheering his 
 mother and me.
 
 1844.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 63 
 
 To Rev. T. Burhidge. 
 
 Oxford: June 1844. 
 
 I have just received your letter with a rejoinder to my 
 anti-non-interference philippic. Of course I do not mean 
 that if a labourer has at present his proper proportion for 
 twelve hours' work, he should have the same sum for ten. 
 But I do believe that he has not his proper proportion, 
 that capital tyrannises over labour, and that Government 
 is bound to interfere to prevent such bullying ; and I do 
 believe, too, that in some way or other the problem now 
 solved by universal competition or the devil-take-the- 
 hindmost may receive a more satisfactory solution. It is 
 manifestly absurd that, to allow me to get my stockings a 
 halfpenny a pair cheaper, the operative stocking-weaver 
 should be forced to go barefoot. It is, surely, not wholly 
 Utopian to look for some system which will apportion the 
 due reward to the various sets of workmen, aud evade this 
 perpetual struggle for securing (each man to the exclusion 
 of his neighbour) the whole market. 
 
 I have got two beautiful white water-lilies floating in a 
 green dessert dish beside me. Envyest thou not, Sici- 
 lian Shepherd ? or hast thou thyself also such treasures ? 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Liverpool: July 13, 1844. 
 
 I believe my last letter was written at the end of last 
 long vacation. I remember I was at that time in doubt 
 about signing the Articles ; I did, however, sign them, 
 though reluctantly enough, and I am not quite sure 
 whether or not in a justifiable sense. However, I have 
 for the present laid by that perplexity, though it may 
 perhaps recur some time or other, and in general I do not 
 feel perfectly satisfied about staying in my tutor capacity 
 at Oxford.
 
 64 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 I suppose Stanley's memoir will somehow or other have 
 reached you. I found the letters more interesting even 
 than I had expected, and the biographical part as good, 
 though I think in some parts it is wanting. It is very 
 judicious in keeping the right mean between reserve and 
 exposure. 
 
 I have in the last ten days also seen the monument, 
 which is placed at a considerable height, so as to rise 
 above any one's head in the pew, in the north division of 
 the east wall looking down the chapel. I think I should 
 have preferred it on one side ; the figure, also, though 
 from the recumbent position it is of less matter, is sadly 
 devoid of likeness ; the design in other respects is good, 
 and I liked Bunsen's epitaph better than 1 thought I 
 should have done. 
 
 The chapel looks very well with its five painted win- 
 dows ; the St. Thomas is, though modern, as good, I 
 think, as the old ones. They are making alterations in 
 the quadrangle. Tait wants the school-house fellows to 
 have single studies throughout, and is in consequence 
 building fresh studies over the cloister opposite the writ- 
 ing-school. » 
 
 I am considerably inclined just now to set to work at 
 Political Economy, for the benefit of the rising genera- 
 tion, and to see if I cannot prove the Apostle of ' anti- 
 laissez-faire.' 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Patterdale: July 26, 1844. 
 
 I cannot say that I believe that the walk to the Orme's 
 Head, however beautiful, was equal to what we have here ; 
 but then I am very fond of lakes, and not very partial to 
 the sea. There is no part of Wales equal to this, except 
 the immediate districts of Snowdon and Cader Idris, and 
 I am not sure that they are. 
 
 Yesterday we went to Helvellyn, meeting a party from
 
 1844.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 65 
 
 Fox How, Ambleside, and Grasmere at the top. 1 liave 
 been up three times before, so that I had no objection to 
 see the hills as they were yesterday, namely, in a good 
 deal of haze, and by no means distinct. 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Patterdale: July 31, 184 4. 
 
 I came to Fox How about three weeks ago to meet 
 Matt, and stayed one day. Walrond joined us here after 
 the first week ; at the end of the 5th I depart, go home 
 to see my father, who has just got home from America, 
 after a visit by the way, superinduced by south-easters, to 
 the vicinity of the Hebrides, and then I go to coach two 
 pupils in Yorkshire for a month or five weeks. The vaca- 
 tion then will be ' welly ' (as they say here for * well-nigh ') 
 run out, and I shall then presently return to my tutoriali- 
 ties at Oxford. 
 
 Your request for a sermon cannot be acceded to. I am 
 not, nor am likely as yet, to be aught but a laic, and lay 
 sermons I leave for Johnson and Coleridge. You must, 
 therefore, be content with such poor and scanty seimiones 
 repentes per humum as you get in my rare epistles. You 
 shall have one when I go into orders — oh, questionable 
 when ! 
 
 What, according to your experience, is the best division 
 of the day in this country ? The question centres in that 
 other momentous question, ' What is the properest hour to 
 eat ?' We began with — breakfast, 8 ; work, 9.30 to 2.30 ; 
 bathe, dinner, walk, and tea, 2.30 to 9.30 ; work, 9.30 to 
 11. We now have revolutionised to the following con- 
 stitution, as yet hardly advanced beyond paper : — 13reak- 
 fast, 8 ; work, 9.30 to 1.30 ; bathe, dinner, 1.30 to 3 ; work, 
 3 to 6 ; walk, ad infinitum ; tea, ditto. 
 
 M. has gone out fishing, when he ought properly to be 
 working, it being nearly four o'clock, and to-day proceeding 
 
 F
 
 C6 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 in theory according to Constitution No. 2 : it has, liowever, 
 come on to rain furiously ; so Walrond, who is working 
 sedulously at Herodotus, and I, who am writing to you, 
 rejoice to think that he will get a good wetting. 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Oriel: Nov. 25, 1844. 
 
 Your letter reached me just at the time of my father's 
 death. In August, when I wrote, he was improving, and 
 our alarm had ceased ; but he had a relapse not long after, 
 and for a month before the end we were in full expectation 
 of such a result. He died on October 19, a few hours 
 after the arrival of my brother from America. 
 
 Your letter was in answer to mine written exactly twelve 
 months before, when I was in doubt about subscription to 
 the thirty-nine Articles. It certainly was very curious get- 
 ting an answer to feelings which were of a year's standing, 
 especially as I had pro tevipore (perhaps tempori serviens), 
 laid them by almost completely ; and indeed you know 
 already that I signed without demur, and have been work- 
 ing away in the thoroughly terrestrial element of College 
 tutorism, not to speak of Mendicity Societies and the like. 
 Nevertheless, I still consider the old scruple to be a sort of 
 St. Paul who ought not to be put off by any, in however high 
 place, to a more convenient season, or at any rate ought to 
 have a convenient season found him before long. And I 
 can't profess myself one whit appeased by your burst of 
 wonder and opposition. So the sooner you come home 
 the better, otherwise you will perhaps hear of some very 
 desperate step, though of becoming an Independent mi- 
 nister I certainly have no present thought or desire. 
 
 My own justification to myself for doing as I am doing 
 is, I fear, one which would be as little approved of by you 
 as my objections on the other hand. However, it is simply 
 that I can feel faith in what is being carried on by my
 
 1844.] ARTHUR IR^GII CLOUGII. 07 
 
 jTfeneration, and tliat I am content to be an operative — to 
 dress intellectual leather, cut it out to pattern, and stitch 
 it and cobble it into boots and shoes for the benefit of the 
 work which is been guided by wiser heads. But this 
 almost cuts me out of having any religion whatever ; if I 
 begin to think about Grod, there arise a thousand ques- 
 tions, and whether the thirty-nine Articles answer them 
 at all, oir whether I should not answer them in the most 
 diametrically opposite purport, is a matter of great doubt. 
 If I am to study the question, I have no right to put my 
 name to the answers beforehand, or to join in the acts 
 of a body and be to practical purpose one of a body who 
 accept these answers of which I propose to examine the 
 validity. 
 
 I will not assert that one has no right to do this, but it 
 seems to me to destroy one's sense of perfect freedom of 
 inqm'ry in a great degree ; and I further incline to hold 
 that inquiries are best carried on by turning speculation 
 into practice, and my speculations no doubt in their earlier 
 stages would result in practice considerably at variance 
 with thirty-nine- Article subscription. Much as I like, fond 
 as I am of Oxford, and much as I should hate the other 
 element undisguised, I verily believe that, as a prelimi- 
 nary stage, it would be far better to be at Stinkomalee 
 (the London University acknowledges that agnomen, I 
 believe). Amongst the irreligious, I should have Abdiel- 
 itish tendencies : here, what religion I have I cannot dis- 
 tinguish from the amalgamations it is liable to, and I am, 
 right or wrong, as matter of fact, exceedingly averse to 
 act on anything but what I have got from myself, or have 
 so distinctly appropriated as to allow my original tenants 
 as it were time and space to state and vindicate their claim 
 against the new comers. 
 
 Without in the least denying Christianity, I feel little 
 that I can call its power. Believing myself to be in my 
 unconscious creed in some shape or other an adherent to 
 
 F 2
 
 68 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF LChap. V. 
 
 its doctrines, I keep within its pale ; still, whether the 
 spirit of the age, whose lacquey and flunkey I submit to 
 be, will prove to be this kind or that kind, I can't the 
 least say. Sometimes I have doubts whether it won't turn 
 out to be no Christianity at all. Also, it is a more fre- 
 quent question with me whether the master whom I work 
 under, and am content to work under, is not carrying out 
 his operations himself elsewhere, while I am, as it were, 
 obeying the directions of a bungling journeyman no better 
 than myself. 
 
 As the great Goethe published in his youth the * Sor- 
 rows of the Young Werther,' so may I, you see, the great 
 poet that am to be, publish my ' Lamentations of a 
 Flunkey out of place.' You, perhaps, will say the 
 lamentations are more out of place than the flunkey. 
 And certainly Flunkey hath no intention of giving notice 
 to quit just at present, nor of publishing lamentations at 
 all. Thou, however, in thy wisdom, consider the sad ex- 
 amples and perplexities that encounter said flunkey amidst 
 all the most flunkeyish occupations of his flunkeydom, and 
 in the hope that at this time next year he will still be en- 
 gaged in these same occupations, transmit to him advice 
 and good counsel as to those same scruples and perplex- 
 ities. In the meantime he must dress and put on his 
 livery for dinner. \Exit Flunkey. 
 
 To Rev, J. P. Gell. 
 
 Liverpool : April 2, 1845. 
 Easter vacation should furnish forth a letter, more 
 especially as I anticipate a singularly busy Easter Term, 
 since one of our three tutors is to be examiner in the 
 schools. First of all ; you will be glad to hear that Matt 
 Arnold is elected Fellow of Oriel. This was done on 
 Friday last, March 28, just thirty years after his father's 
 election. Mrs. Arnold is of course well pleased, as also
 
 1845.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 69 
 
 the venerable poet at Eydal, who had taken M. under 
 his special protection. Mrs. Arnold I saw at Fox How ; 
 she was looking remarkably well, though the party seemed 
 strangely small, all the boys being away. 
 
 The beauties of Parson's Pleasure, where we were wont 
 to bathe in the early morning, have been diminished by 
 the unsightly erection, by filthy lucre-loving speculators, 
 of a bathing-house, and I have therefore deserted it. But 
 a substitute is to be found. 
 
 If you do not come soon, I shall perhaps have fled from 
 my tutorial bower and committed something avqK£<nov. 
 
 To 
 
 August 17, 1845. 
 
 About the National Debt, I believe the * Prospective ' 
 reviewer is wrong. Arnold, according to the best 
 authorities on such matters, is quite right in regarding it 
 as a grievous burden. I can't see that it can be other- 
 wise, but people have fancied it rather a blessing than the 
 reverse. The article on Blanco White seems to be tempe- 
 rate enough ; with the Inquisition hanging over him, he 
 could not be otherwise than he was — he could not but 
 fancy throughout his life that he was being bullied into a 
 sham belief. At the same time I believe there is a vicious 
 habit of poking into intellectual questions merely for the 
 fun of it, or the vanity of it, only not quite so common 
 as people make out. At any rate, taking it easy and 
 acquiescing in anything is much more common. Perhaps 
 every clergyman is not called upon to fit himself for cases 
 like Blanco WTiite's. How could it be ? 
 
 To Rev. T. Burbidge. 
 
 Calder Park, Glasgow: August 31, 1845. 
 
 It is too hot to go out (72° in the shade), and in Scotland 
 we are too sabbatic to read anything but sermons. It
 
 70 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 remains therefore that I retire to my room and do as I am 
 doing. We returned yesterday from our Highland expe- 
 dition. We went by steamer up Loch Fyne, across the 
 Mull of Cantire in a canal boat, and again in a steamer 
 among the multitudinous isles, the skirts of the Hebrides, 
 up the great fiord of Loch Linnhe, which narrows gradually, 
 and at the headland of Ardgower is transmuted into the 
 inland lake, a salt Winandermere, of Loch Eil, at the 
 head of which stands Fort William, where begins the 
 Caledonian Canal. This, our most northerly point, we 
 attained on Monday. Tuesday was devoted by the rest 
 to Ben, by me to (r^ew-Nevis. The former hid his head in 
 a cloud — the latter arrayed his woody sides for me in 
 glorious light and shade (! !) 
 
 It is really the most beautiful glen I ever saw. I went 
 seven miles up, and was still far from the end. You first 
 go up what appears a sort of glorification of Grisedale ; 
 then a sudden turn at right angles leads you into a sort of 
 magnified Hartsop — the birch-wood and ashes being here 
 accompanied with the native Scotch fir. And at the bot- 
 tom all along rolls a stream of the clear water over rocks 
 and stones of porphyry, which give it a most glorious 
 yellow-red colour. 
 
 In the evening we moved southward by land to Balla- 
 hulish, on Loch Leven ; thence the next morning by 
 Griencoe, a magnificent pass into a moorland country, 
 wherein are the sources of some feeders of the Tay, run- 
 ning eastward. We descended into the glen of Loch 
 Tulla and the Orchay, which leads off to Loch Awe ; Loch 
 Awe is very fine, but rather cold. Ben Cruachan, which 
 rises above it, is a very fine peaked mountain. We crossed 
 over and reached Inverary for bed. On Thursday, we 
 passed through Grlencroe, descended on the fine salt Loch 
 Long, crossed the four miles intervening, and found our- 
 selves on Loch Lomond, six or seven miles from its head. 
 Wc went up it about three miles in a steamer, to * the
 
 1845.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 71 
 
 rough falls of Inversneyd,' crossed a high moor of five 
 miles, and found ourselves at the head of Loch Katrine, 
 rowed twelve miles down, and were landed in the Trosachs. 
 On Friday T. A. and T. W. crossed the hills to Loch Ard, 
 and I went up the lake, and there took a pony and joined 
 them in a round-about way, passing a very beautiful water 
 called Loch Chon. I came back and slept at Inversneyd ; 
 they remained and attended a highland-reel party in a 
 shoemaker's hut at Loch Ard, and after staying up danc- 
 ing and drinking milk and whisky till half-past two rose 
 at half-past four, walked eleven miles to a hasty break- 
 fast with me, and then took steam down to the foot of 
 Loch Lomond, and so by Dumbarton we came home, dirty, 
 and dusty, and bankrupt. Loch Katrine and Loch 
 Lomond are both like Ullswater ; the former less beautiful, 
 the latter, I think, more so. Both are less cultivated ; 
 Loch Katrine quite wild, and the little land-locked lakelet 
 at its foot, cut ofif by the Lady's Island and one or 
 two promontories, is exceedingly beautiful. The heather 
 also is a great accession to the Highlands. So endeth 
 my story. 
 
 At present there are staying here young Walter Scott 
 Lockhart, who is just leaving Cambridge to join the army 
 in his uncle Sir Walter's regiment ; also his sister. Young 
 Walter is thought a good deal like his grandfather, but, 
 though far from dull, he is anything but literary, and is 
 going out to join his uncle's regiment in India, rather 
 against his father's wish, as he is heir to Abbotsford, and 
 to Milton Lockhart, where his father's elder brother lives, 
 and where they are now staying. 
 
 September 5. 
 
 On Wednesday morning we started for the Falls of Clyde. 
 We breakfasted at Milton Lockhart, lionised Craignethan 
 Castle, the original of Tillietudlem, returned to luncheon, 
 and to songs from Miss Lockhart, and after this went on 
 to see Stonebyres, Cora Linn, and Bonnyton, the three
 
 72 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OB^ [Cuap. V. 
 
 falls, which are all very fine — nothing neiv in feature, but 
 remarkable for size. We slept at Lanark, and came back 
 to breakfast here. 
 
 The ' Quarterly ' was at Milton Lockhart, and I had 
 some conversation with him ; he spoke of the prevalence 
 of infidelity, even among the country folk of Scotland, 
 saying that all the small farmers in that neighbourhood 
 were avowed unbelievers. He ascribed it greatly to Burns. 
 Chalmers, he said, was once in a factory at Glasgow, and 
 began to talk to some of the work people in his way, 
 when he was interrupted by an old woman, who told him 
 that he ' needna go on ; there are nae Christians in this 
 ward, Doctor.' 
 
 In Monday's * Times ' appeared a letter written by Ward 
 to the ' Oxford Herald,' announcing his intention of leav- 
 ing the English Church at last ; and implying the like 
 on Newman's part, that indeed being his own ground for 
 changing his opinion. His defence of his position in the 
 English Church had rested, he said, on the facts — 1st. 
 That the said Church allowed Romanist teachino-. — 2nd. 
 That Romanisers (like Newman) found themselves feel 
 continually better satisfied with the resolution of remaining 
 in the English communion. The late decision of the Ec- 
 clesiastical courts had, he said, destroyed the former 
 ground, and Newman's change the latter. 
 
 By Professor J. C. Shaii^. 
 
 It must have been in the autumn of 1845 that Clough 
 and I first met in Scotland. One visit there to Walrond's 
 family at Calder Park I especially remember. On a fine 
 morning early in September, we started from Calder Park 
 to drive to the Falls of Clyde. We were to spend the day 
 at Milton Lockhart, and go on to Lanark in the evening. 
 Besides Walrond and Clough, there were T. Arnold, E. 
 Arnold, and myself. It was one of the loveliest September
 
 1845.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 73 
 
 mornings that ever slione, and the drive hiy througli one 
 of tlie most lovely regions in south Scotland, known as 
 ' the Trough of Clyde.' The sky was bright blue, 
 fleeced with whitest clouds. From Hamilton to Milton 
 Lockhart, about ten miles, the road keeps down in the 
 hollow of the trough, near the water, the banks covered 
 with orchards, full of heavy-laden apple and other fruit 
 trees bending down till they touched the yellow corn that 
 grew among them. There is a succession of fine country 
 houses, with lawns that slope towards lime trees that bend 
 over the river. It was the first time any of us but 
 Walrond had been that wa}^, and in such a drive, under 
 such a sky, you may believe we were happy enough. We 
 reached Milton Lockhart, a beautiful place, built on a 
 high grassy headland, beneath and round which winds 
 Clyde. Sir Walter Scott, I believe, chose the site, and 
 none could be more beautifully chosen. It looks both 
 ways, up and down the lovely vale. 
 
 As we drove up, near ten o'clock, we found the late 
 Mr. J. Gr. Lockhart (Scott's biographer) walking on the 
 fifreen terrace that looks over the river. The laird himself 
 being from home, his brother was our host. Soon after we 
 arrived, his daughter, then very young, afterwards Mrs. 
 Hope Scott, came out on the terrace to say that breakfast 
 was ready. After breakfast she sang, with great spirit 
 and sweetness, several of her grandfather's songs, copied 
 into her mother's books by herself, when they were still 
 newly composed. After listening to these for some time, 
 her brother, Walter Scott Lockhart, then a youth of 
 nineteen or so, and with a great likeness to the por- 
 traits of Sir Walter when a young man, was our guide 
 to an old castle, situated on a bank of one of the small 
 glens that come down to the Clyde from the west. It was 
 the original of Scott's Tillietudlem in ' Old Mortality.' A 
 beautiful walk thither ; the castle large, roofless, and green 
 with herbage and leafage. We stayed some time, roaming
 
 74 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 over the green deserted place, then returned to a lunch, 
 which was our dinner; more songs, and then drove off 
 late in the afternoon to the Falls of Clyde and Lanark for 
 the night. It was a pleasant day. Clough enjoyed it 
 much in his own quiet way — quietly, yet so humanly 
 interested in all he met. Many a joke he used to make 
 about that day afterwards. Not he only, but all our en- 
 tertainers of that day, Mr. J. Gr. Lockhart, his son and 
 daughter, are now gone. 
 
 To Rev. T. Burbidge. 
 
 CalderPark: September 11, 1845. 
 
 We went to Edinburgh on Tuesday ; saw the Castle and 
 Holyrood, including Queen Mary's apartments and Rizzio's 
 blood, the Calton Hill, and Flaxman's statue of Burns, 
 which I admired much. 
 
 We went to dine and sleep at Houston, the house of 
 Shairp, and lionised the grounds of Hopetoun next day, 
 which lie on the Forth, over against Dunfermline gray, 
 &c., &c. I liked the place very much ; it is a tall, per- 
 pendicular house, four stories and attics ; such peep-hole 
 windows in thick stone walls ; all manner of useless little 
 rooms on all manner of unequally disposed levels ; a stone 
 staircase from bottom to top. Wainscotted partition walls, 
 and old folks by the dozen looking down on you there- 
 from ; among the rest, Archbishop Sharpe, who seems to 
 have been of the family, but is hardly acknowledged, as 
 they are now Presbyterians. And the second Flower of 
 Yarrow, really a beautiful face, though in the picture 
 rather faded, who lived at Houston with her sister, who 
 had married its owner. The garden, moreover, of flowers 
 and kitchenry without distinction, with high hedges of 
 beech and yew, &c., running hither and thither about it, 
 was very pleasant.
 
 1845.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 75 
 
 To Rev. J. P. Gell. 
 
 Liverpool : September 21, 1845. 
 
 Is it news to you that Ward has at last gone over to 
 Eome, wife and all ; is at this present moment at St. Mary's 
 College, Oscott, having just received confirmation ? New- 
 man, it is said, will not go over finally till Christmas, but 
 his intention to do so is definitely announced. It is thought 
 that his immediate followers will not be many ; ten or 
 twelve subordinates and Oakeley is large allowance. But 
 a great many will be rendered uneasy by his departure, 
 and one may look out for changes in one way or other : it 
 will be ' dropping weather ' in the Eomanising line for 
 some time to come, I dare say. Newman's Apologia, 
 entitled ' Notes of the Church,' is expected to appear soon. 
 So also the volumes of the reprint of Arnold's Lives, in 
 the Encyclopiedia Metropolitana. The miscellaneous 
 volume, including the Church Eeform and Catholic Eman- 
 cipation pamphlets, the Sheffield and Hertford letters 
 and other minora, has been out for a month. The Catholic 
 Emancipation I had never read till to-day : to-day I did 
 so with great delight. My last reading before that was 
 (strong meat) the * Life of Blanco WT:iite : ' almost wholly 
 from his own papers ; a very striking production, which 
 has called out a review from Gladstone in the ' Quarterly,' 
 and a more powerful one by Mozley in the ' Christian Ke- 
 membrancer ' (Puseyitic extreme). For me, almost it 
 persuaded me to turn Unitarian, that is, for the moment ; 
 and even now I feel no common attraction towards the 
 book and the party who have brought it out, viz. the 
 high Unitarians, such as Miss Martineau's brother, a 
 preacher here ; Mr. Thom, his colleague, the editor of 
 book, &c., and others. They have a review, the ' Pro- 
 spective,' ' Aspice, Eespice, PROsncE ' (sic) being the motto, 
 in each of the eight numbers of which Arnold's volume, 
 the Life, the Fragment on the Church, and the last miscel-
 
 76 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 laneous volume have received an article; and in their 
 particvdar section of the people they are, I should think, 
 doing a great deal of good. 
 
 I renewed my acquaintance at the Lakes this year with 
 Hartley Coleridge. The only thing worth recording from 
 his lips is a saying which he repeated as his father's, that 
 etymology is in danger of death from a plethora of pro- 
 babilities. 
 
 To Rev. T. Burbidge. 
 
 Liverpool : September 23, 1845. 
 
 I have been reading ' The Improvisatore,' a Danish novel 
 translated by Mary Howitt. You know I hate Corinne. 
 Tliis is in the Corinne high beauty-beatification style, 
 Italy, art, and love a I'sesthetique ; but the thing is 
 rendered truthful and sober in Dano-Gothic colouring. 
 But this kind of book makes me long for genuine live and 
 act storj'-, such as the * Rose of Tistelon,' which I recom- 
 mend you. 
 
 Item. — I have bought a Cowley, rather a scrubby 18mo, 
 but the first edition after his death. I think Cowley has 
 been Wordsworth's model in many of his lyrical rhythms, 
 and some of his curious felicities. 
 
 I told you perhaps that I had some thoughts of laying 
 down my toga tutoria and going abroad for a year with a 
 pupil ; nor has the plan evaporated wholly as yet. 
 
 Oxford : September 28. 
 
 I went to Rugby on my way. The school is in num- 
 ber 490. They have built a new school-room at the back 
 of the fives court, between the chapel and the stables. 
 
 Jowett comes hither, having been Stanley's companion 
 in Germany. They saw Schelling, who spoke to them of 
 Coleridge with high praise, sajdng that it was an utter 
 shame to talk of his having plagiarised from him, Schel- 
 ling.
 
 1845.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 77 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Oriel : October 1845. 
 
 "^Tiat shall be done in the summer? Shall we go to 
 Switzerland together, ^e the Italian lakes and Milan, 
 taking the Seine and Paris one way, and the Ehine and 
 Belgium the other? Alas, I fear there will be no money 
 to spare. Potatoes and all ' bread-stuffs ' are like to be 
 terribly dear ; and we shall have to live on butcher's meat 
 for lack of cheaper food. Or have you laid in a stock of 
 rice? Grovernment, it seems, will not open the ports for 
 foreign corn : the free traders are outvoted in Privy 
 Council, and for the present at any rate we must let our 
 neighbours buy for themselves without any interference of 
 ours. 
 
 Moreover, I think it very likely I may give up this 
 tutorship (quod tamen tu tacere debes), and as private 
 tutor I could not, without more work than I should like, 
 make the same sum per annum which I now receive from 
 the College. 
 
 To Rev. T. Burbidge. 
 
 Oxford: October 19, 1845. 
 
 There is a good article (a portent) in the ' Quarterly, 
 pronounced to be Milman's, on the Eelation of Clergy to 
 People, against priestcraft and authority, and extolling 
 marriage ; it is really very well done. 
 
 There is also (a portentous portent) another article not 
 at all to be despised, on the Moral Discipline of the Army, 
 specially in regard of Chaplains ; in a postscript to which 
 announcement is made that certain improvements have 
 just been ordered by Government, as for instance the 
 building of chapels for barracks. 
 
 The poet Faber, men say, will go, but the ultra-Puseyites 
 in general seem inclined not to take headers a la Ward, 
 but to sneak in and duck their heads till they are out of 
 their depth.
 
 78 LETTEES AND RExMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 Liddell, it appears, is standing for the Moral Philosopliy 
 chair. I hope he will get it ; he is a man who will work, 
 and who will be listened to. 
 
 . October 28. 
 
 I have, however, in the last three days found time to 
 read ' Jeanne, par George Sand,' the most cleanly French 
 novel I ever read, and not cleanly only, but pure. If I 
 knew French well enough, and was not a college tutor, I 
 would translate it, and I believe it would take ; for one 
 thing the hero is an Englishman, and by no means a com- 
 mon, but a very veritable hero. 
 
 31st. 
 
 Liddell, thank Heaven, is elected Professor of Moral 
 
 Philosophy. The election brought Vaughan up, and we 
 
 had the pleavsure of seeing him. He is very agreeable, 
 
 converses very well, and I wish sincerely he was up here 
 
 always. 
 
 Nov. 1st. 
 
 Potato-disease, and abolition of corn-laws — at any rate, 
 immediate opening of ports for foreign corn, which ports 
 it may be foimd somewhat hard to close again ; panic in 
 the railway market gradually dispelled again, not unlikely 
 howbeit to reappear ; such is the news of the week. Cob- 
 den sounds a note of triumph at Manchester, and dubs 
 Hudson with the title of * King of Spades,' in joint allu- 
 sion to his innumerable army of navigators and his gifts at 
 shuffling and card-tricks. O'Connell, called upon by the 
 Saxon press to do something more for his starving coun- 
 trymen than vapouring at the Conciliation Hall, comes out 
 with a 10 per cent, tax on all landowners, and 50 per cent, 
 on absentees. London, meantime, fearless of lack of funds, 
 proposes to adorn itself with a grand verandah system — at 
 least for all shopping streets. A very desirable plan, I think. 
 I have often wondered that the hint of Chester rows had 
 not been taken long ago.
 
 1846.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 79 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Oriel : Nov. 23, 1845. 
 
 Another convert is gone over to Rome — Faber, the poet, 
 who used to excite admiration when preaching some seven 
 years ago at Ambleside ; and at Cambridge a flitting from 
 the Camden is expected. 
 
 The Irish Colleges are to be, I believe, at Belfast, and 
 certainly at Cork and Galway. This last would be wholly 
 Eoman Catholic, I suppose, otherwise I should like it, for 
 the country near it is very beautiful. There is a great 
 lake, some forty miles long, Lough Corrib, the upper part 
 of which they say is like Wastwater. 
 
 Belfast would be chiefly Presbyterian ; at any rate, Pro- 
 testant. Cork is to be under a Dr. Kane, a chemist and I 
 fancy a very able and sensible man. I think it possible I 
 may some day find myself at one of these places. I don't 
 much mind which. But they won't be ready for two years, 
 I should think. 
 
 To the same. 
 
 Rugby: Dec. 23, 1845. 
 
 I hope you will forgive me. I am not coming home 
 before Monday. It appears that F. Newman (Newman's 
 brother) is coming here on Friday ; and I am very de- 
 sirous to see him, and my hosts urge me to stay. 
 
 F. Newman, by-the-bye, is the author of the paper 
 in the ' Prospective Review,' on Arnold's Miscellaneous 
 Works. I really think I ought not to miss this oppor- 
 tunity of seeing him, so I trust you and mother will 
 forgive my truancy for once, though I fear that you will 
 have but a meagre Christmas party. 
 
 To Rev. T. Burbidge. . 
 
 Liverpool : Jan. 19, 184G. 
 
 Price has been writing a letter or two in the * J^alance,' 
 a newspaper set up on principles which may be described
 
 80 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. V. 
 
 as Arnoldite out of Evangelical, a somewhat mongrel pro- 
 geny, perhaps, with more of profession than fervour ; and 
 the paper is certainly weak, though certainly at the same 
 time well meaning. It wishes to become a sort of Sunday 
 newspaper for all sorts of people, gentle and simple, noble- 
 man, and serving man, and working man. Gumey, I be- 
 lieve, is editor ; Lord Kobert Grosvenor and some others 
 have promised to pay the piper for a while. Gurney puts 
 poems into it. I wrote a letter myself which is to appear 
 in its columns next week. Another newspaper, 'The Daily 
 News,' is placarding itself for issue on the 21st, the lite- 
 rary department under the direction of Charles Dickens. 
 Is Boz proposing to reform the press? to combat, a printer's 
 ink St. Michael, the Dragon immorality of the * Times ? ' 
 It is open to conjecture. But perhaps it is only a quiet 
 little job in the money-making way. Half-a-dozen new 
 newspapers are commencing their career ; it is almost like 
 a railway mania. 
 
 An evening or two after I wrote I met Martineau acci- 
 dentally. I liked him greatly. He talked simply, cour- 
 teously, and ably, and has a forehead with a good deal of 
 that roujTjh-hewn mountainous strenfyth which one used to 
 look at when at lesson in the library at Eugby not without 
 trembling. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Oxford: Feb. 1S4G. 
 
 I have only just time to sign my name. My lectures go 
 on from ten till two these days. Just at this time, too, there 
 are numerous parties — breakfasts, namely, and dinners — 
 which cut me out of the usual odds and ends that do for 
 letter writing. I have been ver}' gay this week ; there is 
 always a sort of carnival at Oxford, and this year it hap- 
 pens to coincide with the end of the Rugby holidays. 
 We had several Rugby masters up — Tait, Arnold, Con-
 
 I84G.] ARTHUR ITUOII CLOUGII. 81 
 
 greve, and Bradley, &c. ; aud uii Tuesday there was a 
 Rugby dinner, which was very successfid and pleasant. 
 
 Concerning marriage, what you say is true enough, 
 but to fall in love without knowledge is foolery ; to obtain 
 knowledge without time and opportunity and something 
 like intimate acquaintance is, for the most part, impos- 
 sible ; and to obtain time and opportunity is just the 
 thing. Then, again, there comes the question of reconcil- 
 ing marriage witti one's work, which for me is a problem 
 of considerable difficulty. It is not every one who would 
 like to be a helpmate in the business I am likely to have. 
 
 G
 
 82 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cuap. VI. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 JOURNEY TO NORTH ITALY — LONG VACATION READING-PARTY 
 
 AT CASTLETON BRAEMAR WRITES THE RETRENCHMENT 
 
 PAMPHLET. — READING-PARTY AT DRUMNADROCHET. 
 
 In the summer of 1846, A. H. Clough and his sister 
 went to the Italian lakes, seeing IMonte Eosa and Milan, 
 and joining his eldest brother and his wife. In August, 
 he returned to meet pupils at Castleton Braemar. This 
 stay in Scotland and the vacation of the following year 
 furnished him with many of the scenes and characters 
 which appeared afterwards in his poem of ' The Bothie.' 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Castleton Braemar: August 9, 1846. 
 
 Our house is very comfortable, and aftords us two. sitting 
 rooms, one of which is conceded to my special use. The 
 other has a nice look-out up the Grlen of Clunie, a little 
 stream which dashes through the granite just beside us, and 
 gives us a pool to bathe in. But the country in general is 
 not what I require for full delight. The hills are round, 
 and somewhat tame, though beautifully clad with heather. 
 The Dee, which is the great river of the district, into 
 which the Clunie runs, is very pretty, and indeed beautiful, 
 three miles higher up. And the mountain excursions still 
 farther off, in the region of Ben-macdhui and Cairngorm, 
 will I daresay prove satisfactory. The kirk to wliich we 
 went this morning is fairly administered, but not very 
 much attended, I fancy more go to the Free Kirk : and
 
 184G.] ARTHUR IlUfai CLOUGIT. «3 
 
 there is also a Roman Catholic Chapel in tlie villa^-e, and a 
 good many of the poorer folks are Papists. I have given 
 up the idea of tlie school at Birmingliam, having settled to 
 stay out my time at Oxford. 
 
 You must remember what a great advantage for inter- 
 course with the poor is given by any sort of cultivation, 
 music, drawing, dancing, Crerman, French, &c. &c. They 
 feel this distinction very sensibly, and carry their liking 
 of a lady almost to the vice of liking a fine lady. 
 
 To ihe Same. 
 
 Castleton Braemar: September 10, 1846. 
 
 Oar neighbours continue to send us grouse and venison, 
 which reduces our butcher's bills. To-morrow three weeks 
 I expect to have done. I mean, however, to get a little 
 rambling to make up for the somewhat poor scenery of this 
 Valley of Dee, and I fear shall only pay you but a brief 
 visit before I go up to Oxford, about the 15th of October. 
 We are enjoying fine weather, sunshine and moonshine 
 both, but perhaps a little cold, though bathing continues 
 as usual. To-night we all go to a party at General Duff's 
 to see Highland dancing. 
 
 September 26. 
 On Wednesday we had a regular flood, and it has been 
 raining more or less ever since, with intervals, however, 
 3'^esterday, of very respectable sunshine, (^ur two sports- 
 men (did I tell you two pupils were gone up the hills?) 
 have returned, ])ringing a few grouse and a haunch of 
 venison (not their own killing this last) from our neighbour 
 the Duke of Leeds. 
 
 c. -i
 
 84 LETTERS AND RElfAINS OF [Chap. VI. 
 
 The spring of 1847, as will be remembered, was the 
 time of the great Irish famine. The distress caused by it, 
 not only in Ireland, moved Clough greatly, and stirred 
 him to write an appeal to the undergraduates at Oxford, 
 of which the substance is given in the next chapter. 
 
 To . 
 
 March 28, 1847. 
 
 Perhaps what you say is true about Unitarians in general, 
 but in this particular case I think they were not very 
 far wrong in declining to have any service. I think it 
 presumptuous to set down the famine to Divine displeasure, 
 and not particularly wise to have a holiday (for such it 
 was in general) at the very time when people ought to be 
 working hardest to produce all they can to make up for 
 the loss. Let people save and curtail their enjoyments as 
 much as they please ; that 's a very different thing, and a 
 thiDg which I hope the good self-humiliating fast-observers 
 will not forget, now the fast is over. 
 
 The object of the new education measures is merely to 
 assist schools, by pensioning masters and mistresses in 
 their old ao^e, and assisting- clever bovs in orettinof instructed 
 for the business of teaching, and all that the Government 
 require in return is the right of inspection ; and any 
 school which declines to receive assistance may refuse 
 to be inspected. The dissenters are bigoted fools, in 
 my judgment. It is the very least which Government 
 could do. 
 
 My Scotch plans are still somewhat uncertain, as the 
 accommodation at Drumnadrochet is dearer and also less 
 comfortable than we had expected.
 
 1847.] ARTHUE HUGH CLOUGII. 8& 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Oriel: May 1847. 
 
 You will see thut the adorable Swede, Jenny Lind, lias 
 enchanted all the world. I greatly rejoice at it, and think 
 I must go and see her. I have promised to go and see 
 Tom at Wiiitsuntide, and so I daresay I shall do the thing 
 then. Have you seen the lady's picture ? Look and see 
 if you can find a not very beautiful but very pleasant and 
 true looking face, lithographed. 
 
 I have not read ' Emilia W3'ndham,' but I did read a 
 long time ago ' Two Old Men's Tales' by the same authorj 
 and they certainly were, as I am told ' Emilia Wyndham ' 
 is, too pathetic a great deal. I don't want to cry except 
 for some good reason ; it is ' pleasant, but wrong,' in my 
 mind. A novel ought to make you think, and if it does 
 that, the more vivid it is the better, and of course it 
 follows that now and then it will make you cry ; but I am 
 not aware that Mrs. Marsh does make you think. 
 
 Schiller made the same impression on me, when I used 
 to read him in St. James's Terrace, which he does now on 
 you. Coleridge has been to me the antidotive power ; he 
 was a philosopher and a firm believer (so far as one can- 
 make out) in Cbristianity, not only as a doctrine, but as a 
 narrative of events. My own feeling certainly does not 
 go along with Coleridge in attributing any special virtue 
 to the facts of the Gospel History. They have happened, 
 and have produced what we know, have transformed the 
 civilisation of Greece and Kome and the barbarism of 
 Gaul and Germany inta Christendom. But I cannot feel 
 sure that a man may not have all that is important in 
 Christianity even if he does not so much as know that 
 Jesus of Nazareth existed. And I do not think that doubts 
 respecting the facts related in the Gospels need give us 
 much trouble. Believing that in one way or other the 
 thing is of God, we shall in the end know, perhaps, in
 
 8G LETTERS AXD REMAINS OF [Chap. VJ. 
 
 what way and how far it was so. Trust in God's justice 
 and love, and belief in His commands as written in our 
 conscience, stand unshaken, though Matthew, Mark, Luke, 
 and John, or even St. Paul were to fall. 
 
 The thing which men must work at will not be critical 
 questions about the Scriptures, but philosophical problems 
 of Grrace, and Free Will, and of Eedemption as an idea, 
 not as a historical event. What is the meaning of 
 ' Atonement by a crucified Saviom- ? ' Hoiv many of the 
 Evangelicals can answer that ? 
 
 That there may be a meaning in it, which shall not only 
 be consistent with God's justice, that is, with the voice of 
 our conscience, but shall be the very perfection of that 
 justice, the one true expression of our relations to God, I 
 don't deny ; but I do deny that Mr. M'Neile, or Mr. Close, 
 or Dr. Hook, or Pusey, or Newman himself, quite know 
 what to make of it. The Evangelicals gabble at it, as the 
 Papists do their Ave Marys, and yet say they know ; while 
 Newman falls down and worships because he does not 
 know, and knows he does not know. 
 
 I think others are more right who say boldly, we don't 
 understand it, and therefore we won't fall down and worship 
 it. Though there is no occasion for adding, ' there is 
 nothing in it,' I should say, until I know, I will wait, and 
 if I am not born with the power to discover, I will do 
 what I can with what knowledge I have — trust to God's 
 justice, and neither pretend to know, nor, without knowing, 
 pretend to embrace ; nor yet oppose those who, by whatever 
 means, are increasing or trying to increase knowledge. 
 This is not very clear, perhaps, but one can't correct in 
 letter-writing.
 
 1847.J ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 87 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 [On hearing of a. case of stealing among school-children.] 
 
 Oriel: May 31, 1847. 
 
 Sad indeed it is to hear of the evil doings of the chil- 
 dren ; and what you are to do with them, I really can't say. 
 However, I wouldn't exaggerate either the sin or the evil. 
 With the education (so to call it) that these children get at 
 home, what is to be expected from them ? And really in 
 some children pilfering is a matter of mere fancy or habit 
 — a sort of trick, like biting their nails or shaking their 
 legs. Of course, it is necessary they should know that 
 the thing is wrong, and also why it is wrong ; the former 
 is not much use without the latter. I am convinced it is 
 very bad for children to be frightened into believing 
 themselves to have done wrong and to be very wicked. 
 But you might easily show thein that people can never 
 live with each other in the world without respecting the 
 rules of property ; that it would come otherwise to the 
 strongest or the cunningest taking away what other people 
 had earned by their own hard work, and that they would 
 see to be really wicked, whereas they can't exactly see at 
 present that what they do is so very wrong ; you can easily 
 spare the things, and don't much mind the loss; you are 
 very rich (compared to them) and very kind and liberal;, 
 what can it matter ? 
 
 You must know that a friend of mine (not naturally 
 scrupulous) stole a book from a shop when he was at 
 school, was never found out, has never paid for it in any 
 way, has it in his bookshelf still, and makes no difficulty 
 about his friends knowing how he came by it (not that 
 he did it by way of bravado at all, which is another kind 
 of thing). Well, I don't think worse of him ou the whole 
 for this; I respect him for his present frankness; and 
 though I think he ought to have gone afterwards and told
 
 88 LETTERS AND RExMAINS OF [Chap. VI. 
 
 the bookseller, and paid him, 3'et I don't think it 's very 
 much matter. 
 
 Well, you know better about the way the children and 
 their parents would take it; but, for my own part, I 
 should speak out to them all, tell them what has hap- 
 pened, say that the thing must not go on, you must give 
 up the class if it continues, but that you don't mean to 
 disgrace any of them for it at present. Explain why 
 stealing cannot be allowed, and why people are wrong in 
 
 stealing. If you choose, tell them that Elizabeth has 
 
 confessed, and let her say that she is sorry for it, and sees 
 that it is wrong; and ask those who have done the same 
 to confess, and promise to take care in like manner. Or, 
 if you think this Avould be too public a disgrace, can't it 
 be done privately without publishing the names ? or you 
 may give the general exhortation without noticing either 
 E or the other thefts. 
 
 You needn't, I think, insist on restitution. Say that 
 you don't want the things back (you 've got the locket, I 
 suppose) ; that you will put up with the loss. I hope you 
 will excuse all this lengthy advice, which I dare say, or 
 rather I am sure, mother, and I dare say you, will not 
 think quite high-principled ; but it is quite my convic- 
 tion. Frighten a child, and it cries, and is perhaps in an 
 agony ; but afterwards it says to itself * Well, indeed I 
 can't see that it 's wrong,' and does it again. You frighten 
 it again, and again it is in an agony. And so it gets into 
 a way of living by the fear of man (at best), instead of by 
 its own sense of right and wrong, and that is not likely to 
 keep it safe under temptation ; indeed, one can hardly 
 wish that it should. 
 
 I advise you to go on the 8th to Westmoreland. Wednes- 
 day fortnight will see me at home. Thursday will bring 
 me with mother on my arm to Lake-land, where we will lie 
 upon the grass and forget.
 
 1847.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 89 
 
 To . 
 
 June 1847. 
 
 As for your making the marriage, 1 trust it was 
 made elsewhere, where they say all true marriages are 
 made. All vou did was to hinder an unnatural divorce ; 
 i. e. you made the wedding, perhaps, in some degree. 
 And if she loves him, why all the better, whatever comes 
 of it — paiu and grief, suicide and murder, all the tragics 
 you can tliiuk of. After all, pain and grief (for suicide 
 and murder we will dismiss as unnecessary) would be far 
 better than that life-in-death with, papa and mamma in 
 Street, or elsewhere. 
 
 Meantime, I would not, I think, trouble them with any 
 advice. Laissez-faire, laissez-aller. 
 
 In the long vacation of 1847 he went with a reading- 
 party to Drumnadrochet, 
 
 ' Up on the side of Loch Ness, in the beautiful valley of Urquhart.' 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Drumnadrochet: July 26, 1847. 
 
 I think I shall wait upon Providence till the end of my 
 time at Oriel ; though undoubtedly there are temptations 
 in the Liverpool Mechanics. 
 
 My pupils are getting attached to this Cflen Urquhart. 
 I continue to think it anything but beautiful. But Loch 
 Ness offers a good deal. Yesterday I went to Foyers. It 
 is by far the highest of the Scotch waterfalls, and there is 
 a pleasant, quiet, sabbatic coimtry-inn,* overlooking the 
 whole lake, with our highest hill. Meal four vonie, just over 
 the water, and with the Foyers river less than a mile off. 
 
 * The inn by the Foyers Fall, -where 
 
 Over the loch looks at you the summit of Mealfourvonie. 
 
 Poci/is, p. I'Jl
 
 90 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chai-. VI. 
 
 To J. C. Shairp, Esq. 
 
 Glenfinnan Inn, Fort William : 
 September 1, 1847. 
 
 Excuse a blotted sheet. I am out of the realm of 
 civility, being in your own well-beloved West, at Grlen- 
 finnan on Loch Shiel. The mountains are extremely fine, 
 bat not the weather; the waters glorious, specially the 
 rain, which comes in upon my paper as I write, the 
 window above me being exposed to a raving, raging south- 
 wester. 
 
 I have been as far as Arisaig, a poor place, curious 
 perhaps, but nothing more. On the way, I saw Loch 
 Aylort and Loch na-Nuagh (salt), and Loch Aylt (fresh), 
 all of them fine. At Glenaladale's house of Borradale, 
 Charles Edward landed. It stands off Loch na-Nuagh. 
 
 Glenaladale is the great man. here: he marches with 
 Lochiel close by, and the lake separates him from Sir 
 James Eiddell of Ardnamurchan, and Colonel Maclean 
 of Ardgower. He is to have a deer-stalking party to- 
 morrow, Lord Adolphus Fitzclarence, and other majes- 
 tarian officers. 
 
 This place is certainly very beautiful ; scarcely however 
 sufficiently exalted out of the lake country style to meet my 
 expectations of the genuine West. But whether I shall 
 explore, as you suggest, all the lochs up to Loch Broom, 
 viz. Aylort, na-Nuagh, na-Gaul, Morrer, Nevish, Hourn, 
 Alsh, Carron, Torridon, Crairloch, Ewe, and Maree (on 
 referring to the map I find that I have missed two, the 
 rest I may say I know by heart), whether I shall do more 
 than learn the names by heart, is more than doubtful. 
 
 Did you ever see a waterfall turned inside out, down- 
 side up ? The south-wester is doing this to one opposite 
 the window.
 
 }847.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 91 
 
 To J. C. Shairp, Esq. 
 
 Livei-pool: October 3, 1847- 
 I wrote to you last from Glenfinnau. I enjoyed myself 
 greatly in that Hesperian seclusion, though I did not go 
 and see Skye, nor yet Loch Hourn, nor yet Loch Nevish, 
 nor yet Loch Morrer, but only Loch Aylort and Loch 
 na-Nuagh, and a strange solitary place called Loch 
 Beoraik, where, verily, I think Saxon foot had never been 
 before. Also, I have seen and rowed up Loch Erich t. 
 Dallungart, where you and T. slept, I also have slept at. 
 With mine host of Tynaline, in Saxon called Georgetown, 
 I held discourse concerning Saxon swindlers, &c. 
 
 I came back here yesterday. If I could have forced 
 myself sooner out of the Highlands, I would have quitted 
 Liverpool and come to Eugby sooner also; but I could 
 not. Woe's me, but one doesn't like going back to Oxford, 
 nor coming to Liverpool either ; no, nor seeing the face of 
 hat and coat-wearing man, nor even of elegantly-attired 
 woman.
 
 92 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chai>. VII. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PAMniLET ON EETRENCHMENT AT OXFORD. 
 
 By Godfrey Lushington, Esq. 
 
 In the spring- of 1847, at the time when the terrible 
 famine broke out in Ireland, a Retrenchment Association 
 was formed in Oxford, having for its object to induce the 
 University residents to restrain their unnecessary expen- 
 diture during the period of public distress. Mr. Clough 
 joined the Association, and was from the first one of its 
 most earnest supporters. The extravagance and self- 
 indulgence of the life around him, which to him had 
 never been otherwise than distasteful, now at this junc- 
 ture came to appear something shocking. Accordingly, he 
 put forth a pamphlet addressed to the University, entitled 
 * A Consideration of Objections against the Retrenchment 
 Association,' and he put it forth with his name. If we 
 would understand the character of such a demonstration, 
 we must remember how alien to imdergraduate life is the 
 very idea of self-denial ; above all, how inseparably bound 
 up with the traditions and habits of the place is expense, 
 and the pride in expense ; and that this appeal of a purely 
 moral and public character came from a College tutor and 
 a layman, himself but a few years older than those whom 
 he was addressino:. 
 
 * God, by a sudden visitation, has withdrawn from the 
 income He yearly sends us in the fruits of His earth, 
 sixteen millions sterling. Withdrawn it, and from whom ?
 
 1847.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII, 93 
 
 On whom falls tlie loss? Not on the rich and luxurious, 
 but on those whose labour makes the rich man rich, 
 and gives the luxurious his luxury. tShall not we then, 
 the affluent and indulgent, spare somewhat of our afflu- 
 ence, curtail somewhat of our indulgence, that these (for 
 our wealth too and our indulgence in the end) may have 
 food while they work, and have work to gain them food ? ' 
 
 Thus Mr. Clougli simply puts the question. But he 
 did not at all insist upon the Association. ' About that, 
 let the undergraduates do as they like. But, in any case, 
 and in every case, let not the sky, which in Ireland looks 
 upon famishment and fever, see us here at Oxford, in the 
 midst of health and strength, over-eating, over-drinking, 
 and over-enjoying. . . . You must not insult Grod 
 alike and man with the spectacle of your, sublime indif- 
 ference. The angels of heaven, one might believe, as 
 they pass above these devoted shores, in gazing upon that 
 ordained destruction, let fall untasted from their immor- 
 tal lips the morsel of animal sustenance.' 
 
 He then considers one by one the objections brought 
 against the Association, and places his finger upon the weak 
 point of each. It is in the name of duty that in one 
 form or another the excuse is offered for doing nothing:. 
 But what is the life that those who thus excuse themselves 
 lead ? Is it a life really of duty ? or is it a life of self- 
 indulgence. Let this be a test of their sincerity. Does 
 an undergraduate plead that he is an undergraduate, with 
 an allowance only ; that he has no money of his own to 
 give away, and has no business to give away his father's ? 
 To such a one Mr. Clough recommends to act up to his 
 words, and to spare his father's pocket, if that be his duty. 
 But he adds this, probably not unnecessary warning, 
 
 ' Do not, in the name of common sense, first refuse to 
 give because the money is not yours, and then go and 
 spend on yourself, because it is yom* father's.' Or are 
 there others who woidd plead their debts, their obligation
 
 94 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VI I. 
 
 to creditors, their duty to be just before being generous, 
 and so forth ? Why then, let such be just, let them save 
 and pay their debts ; but ' let them not, with money in 
 their pockets, refuse to give to the Irish, because they 
 owe money to tradesmen; neglect to pay their tradesman, 
 because paying tradesmen is not giving to Ireland, and so 
 in the end do neither, let their bills go on increasing, and 
 spend their ready money on extra amusements not to be 
 had without it.' 
 
 Or again, is the protest against retrenchment made in 
 the name of those who depend for their livelihood upon 
 the custom of the University, ' the shopkeepers, and shop- 
 keepers' workpeople, tailors and confectioners, ostlers and 
 waiters ? ' 
 
 Mr. Clough is careful to do justice to what force there 
 is in this, as he terms it, ' the tradesman's objection.' ' It 
 is hard upon them that their bread should be thus suddenly 
 taken out of their mouths, and it is not they but their 
 University customers who are to blame. " We are verily 
 guilty concerning our brother, in that we saw the anguish 
 of his soul, when he besought us, and we would not hear." 
 This suffering is upon our heads. But the question is, who 
 had best suffer ? those who are working to bring things 
 right, or those whom we could not save from suffering 
 without crippling our means for all ? which must be put on 
 shortest allowance, the able soldier or the camp-follower?' 
 ' At no time whatever, I believe, can our large expendi- 
 ture upon objects of luxury be justified. At a time like 
 this, when we know that wages paid to those who work in 
 the farm and the factory will bring no corn, while wages 
 paid to Oxford tradesmen will only increase our useless 
 consumption, I see not how any doubt can be felt.' 
 
 Enough has been already quoted to show that it is far 
 otherwise than in the spirit of an ordinary alms collector 
 that Mr. Clough speaks to the University. 
 
 ' Ijet it be fairly felt,' he says, ' that what we call boimtv
 
 1847.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 95 
 
 and charity is not, as we fain would persuade ourselves, a 
 matter of gratuitous uncalled-for condescension as of God 
 to men, or men to meaner animals, as of children feedino^ 
 the robins, or ladies watering their flowers ; hut on the 
 contrary, a supplementary but integral part of fair deal- 
 ing, the payment of a debt of honour.' 
 
 And, ' as a matter of pure justice and not of generosity, 
 England is bound to share her last crust with Ireland, and 
 the rich men to fare as the poor.' 
 
 But ]Mr. Clough's characteristic love for first principles 
 leads him to go further, and to urge upon his readers a 
 reconsideration of the ideal of the modern aristocracy 
 which, like Dives, wouhl shut its eyes and ears to the 
 Lazarus at its gates — a reconsideration the more oppor- 
 tune, because this ideal is one to which English youth too 
 often find their introduction in the University. 
 
 * As this our English aristocracy draws its recruits almost 
 exclusively from the newl}'- rich, what, may we ask, is the 
 most fitting lesson it should inculcate upon them, what dis- 
 cipline and what drill should it place thorn under ? Shall 
 it meet them half way with the precept of. Expense and 
 ostentation ? Shall it say, Your business as a member of 
 the best part of the English nation is to entertain, to give 
 good dinners, and see the world ; to have houses larger than 
 you want, servants more than you want, carriages more than 
 you use, horses more than you have work for ? Is this to 
 be the talismanic tradition handed down from chivalrous 
 days to the new generation ; is this the torch of wisdom 
 and honour which our feudal aristocracy transmits to the 
 new one that succeeds it ? Is this all which they can give 
 us whose- boast it is to belong- to the historic beinc: of Eno-- 
 land — to be the conducting medium through which the 
 past sends its electric power into the present. Eating and 
 drinking, and (we must remember, that I suppose) a dash 
 of gentlemanly manner ? 
 
 'To what result then do we come? To something like this.
 
 96 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VII. 
 
 ' First of all, that the welfare of the nation does un- 
 donbtedly require the existence of a class free for the 
 most part to follow their own devices ; that it is right 
 that there should be men with time at their disposal, and 
 money in their purses, and large liberty in public opinion ; 
 men who, though thousands and tens of thousands perish 
 by starvation, stoically meanwhile in books and in study, 
 in reading, and thinking, and travelling, and — it w^oidd 
 seem too, enjoying, in hunting, videlicet, and shooting, 
 in duets, and dancing, by ball-going and grousing, by 
 dejeuners and deer-stalking, by foie-gras and Johannis- 
 berger, by February strawberries and December green 
 peas, by turbot, and turtle, and venison — should pioneer 
 the route of the armies of mankind ; should, an intrepid 
 forlorn hope, lead the way up the breach of human des- 
 tiny to the citadel of truth ; and, devoted priests and 
 prophets, solve some more than " Asian mystery " by pil- 
 grimage to the Palestine of Cockaigne ! But that how- 
 ever essential be these higher classes, still there remains 
 the question. Is there not a holier land than Cockaigne ; 
 is not temperance as efficient a sapper and miner as wine 
 of Burgundy ; is not labour better than enjoyment ; is it 
 not higher cultivation "to do justice and mercy, and walk 
 humbly," than to " eat and drink and be drunken ;" and 
 though thought and study be glorious, may we not com- 
 bine "plain living and high thinking;" though science, 
 and art, and philosophy be divine, is not charity " yet a 
 more excellent way ? "' 
 
 Again, as to property, whilst impugning as idle any at- 
 tempt which does not start with the necessity of a secure 
 basis for the rights of property, Mr. Clough has no mercy 
 for the prejudices of those who regard laissez-faire as the 
 privilege of the rich. Those who would fain acquiesce in the 
 famine as a heaven-sent calamity, to be suffered by those 
 iq)on whom it falls, would such not do well to reflect upon 
 the words, ' The earth hath He given to the children of
 
 1847.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 97 
 
 men ?' * Not, says the Scripture, to the children of the rich, 
 or of the noble, or of those who have had it hitlierto ; not 
 to the well-bred and well-educated — rather, it might seem, 
 to the children of those by the sweat of whose brow it is 
 subdued. 
 
 ' So might some one put it. And far more near to the 
 truth do I deem it would be to declare, that whoever is 
 born into the world has a just claim to demand thejein 
 and therefrom work and wages for work ; is bound to do 
 his part in the labour, and entitled to expect his propor- 
 tion in the fruits ; even as in some Alacran shipwreck, 
 each new-comer, scevis projectus ab undis (it is the old 
 Lucretian image), may be called upon to share in the 
 toils, and may demand to share in the food ; and no old 
 citizen of the rocks shall dare to say. We may monopolise 
 the work alike and the pay ; we have hands enough for 
 the work, and will have no new mouth for the victuals ; 
 far truer, though not the whole truth, I think, would this 
 be than the fairest human-law theory of sacred indefeasible 
 monopoly vested in hereditary lords of creation.' 
 
 And there is a lesson for the hour which the rich have 
 to learn respecting themselves and their own position : — 
 
 ' ye, born to be rich, or at least born not to be poor ; 
 ye young men of Oxford, who gallop your horses over 
 Bullingdon, and ventilate your fopperies arm-in-arm up 
 the High-street, abuse if you will to the full that other 
 plea of the spirits and thoughtlessness of youth, but let 
 me advise you to hesitate ere you venture the question. 
 May I not do what I like with my own ? ere you meddle 
 with such edge-tools as the subject of property. Some 
 one, I fear, might be found to look up your title-deeds, 
 and to quote inconvenient Scriptures.' 
 
 * It cannot, at least, be denied that in great calamities a 
 higher law, " a law within the law," steps in to supersede 
 that of property.' 
 
 ' Property is scarcely, by law or gospel, that inalienably 
 
 H
 
 98 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VII. 
 
 personal, individual thing, which we that have it would 
 believe it to be. As in the dangers and distresses of so- 
 ciety great characters are for the first time seen, and as 
 soon as seen are recognised, even so in calamities and 
 horrors the old laws of meU'm and tuum shrink to nothing 
 while a loftier principle reveals itself, and no man gainsays 
 it.' ' Beyond the reach of all statutes of limitation there 
 are bills that must be liquidated, creditors that must not 
 be deferred. Many yet shall come in from the highways 
 and hedges, and join in the meal with us that came early ; 
 a posthumous brother is yet to be born to share and share 
 alike in our father's bequests. 
 
 ' Terraque mancipio nulli datur, omnibus usu.' 
 
 ' No such thing can there be as a right to do what you 
 will with your own. The property is not your own ; scarcely 
 your own at any time ; during times of calamity in nowise 
 except to do good with and distribute. Neither again can 
 you plead the good it does you : who made thee to differ ? 
 you cannot even plead the good which your cultivation, so 
 obtained, does the nation ; that cultivation could be better 
 obtained without it. Nor yet that you are patronising arts 
 and sciences ; genius, and skill, and knowledge. You are 
 so, no doubt — but the thing could be done as well and 
 better if you employed painters and architects — engravers 
 and jewellers — builders and engineers — not upon your own 
 dining-rooms and drawing-rooms ; but upon churches, and 
 schools, and hospitals, public works and public institutions. 
 And that patronage would be as superior to the present, as 
 the patronage of painting, properly so called, to that of the 
 painting of portraits.' 
 
 These may seem over-strong views. Mr. Clough him- 
 self afterwards came to see that he had under-estimated 
 the necessity and the value of those contributions to the 
 general stock of civilised life which proceed from indi- 
 vidual efforts prompted at least partially by motives of
 
 18-47.J ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 99 
 
 self-regard and personal ambition. But be these views 
 politically sound or unsound, of this we may be sure, that 
 those to whom this pamphlet is specially addressed found 
 in such words only a stimulant to a better and more self- 
 denying way of life. And so Mr. Clough concludes : — 
 
 * One word more. Nothing that is said here is intended 
 to go against enjoyment, as such. It is perhaps scarcely 
 natural for young men to feel strongly that which they do 
 not see. It were absurd to affect a gloom which does not 
 exist. But it is not absurd to avoid in our enjoyments 
 that which a little reflection can show us to be wrong, to 
 be hurtful or unfitting: it is not absurd to lay down a few 
 rules beforehand which will keep up in our minds the 
 general impression that those unseen miseries are, though 
 unseen, not unreal : it is not absurd to do, with or without 
 sensation and sentiment, those acts which tend to their 
 alleviation, to avoid simply because it has been shown to 
 be the right course, expensive and ostentatious gratifica- 
 tions. And simple enjoyments are, if not the most volup- 
 tuous and delicately refined, assuredly the manliest and 
 healthiest, the most honest and rational and permanent.' 
 
 H 2
 
 100 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VIII. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A. H, CLOUGH GIVES UP HIS TUTORSHIP GOES TO PARIS- 
 ACQUAINTANCE WITH EMEIi 
 RESIGNS HIS FELLOWSHIP. 
 
 ACQUAINTANCE WITH EMERSON ^-WRITES ' THE BOTHIE '- 
 
 In 1848, A. H. Clough finally resolved to give up his tutor- 
 ship, which he did in April, and a few months later he 
 also resigned his Fellowship at Oriel. In May 1848 he 
 went to Paris, and saw something of what was going on in 
 that year of revolution. About this time he made the 
 acquaintance of Mr. Emerson, which was then and after- 
 wards very valuable to him. In the autumn he spent 
 some time at home with his mother and sister at Liver- 
 pool, and during this time he wrote his poem of ' The 
 Bothie of Tober-Na-Vuolich.' In October he resigned his 
 Fellowship. By this step he gave up all his immediate 
 means of subsistence, and threw himself on the world 
 anew. For some time he was without any regular employ- 
 ment. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Oriel : Jan. 31, 1848. 
 
 In England we go on in our usual humdrum way ; the 
 ecclesiastical world agitated by all manner of foolish Hamp- 
 den-rows : of the confused babble about which all quiet 
 people are infinitely tired. I have given our Provost 
 notice of my intention to leave his service (as tutor) at 
 Easter. I feel greatly rejoiced to think that this is my 
 last term of bondage in Egypt, though I shall, I suppose, 
 quit the fleshpots for a wilderness, with small* hope of
 
 1848.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 101 
 
 manna, quails, or water from the rock. The Fellowship, 
 however, lasts for a year after next June. 
 
 I had not, I think, seen the Kajah Brooke when you 
 departed. I liked him extremely ; met him once at 
 breakfast with Stanley, and once in the evening with our 
 Provost ; quite a kingly man, clear-sighted and simple- 
 minded, full of will and purpose, but witliout a grain of 
 self-will or ambition. Stanley says that he deprecated 
 English, or indeed European, colonisation in Borneo as 
 bad for the natives. He had had 2,000 offers, but 
 declined generally, saying the time was not yet come. 
 
 To a Friend. 
 
 [In answer to a remonstrance against his intention of resigning his 
 
 Fellowship.] 
 
 February 20, 1848. 
 
 Be not afraid : I love my mother earth, and ' in the air 
 will never float ' * Until I get a little boat,' and of a better 
 build than the famous ' Crescent Moon.' 
 
 No, but remember withal, that no man moves without 
 having one leg always off, as well as one leg always on the 
 ground. Your stationary gentleman undoubtedly has both 
 for a basis, and much good may his double pedestal do 
 
 him. and go shuffling along, lifting their feet 
 
 as little as possible from the earth. There are also horses, 
 are there not, called ' daisy-cutters ? ' not, as I am told, 
 the best breed. 
 
 The mere carnal understanding, I grant you, goes on 
 its belly in the shape of the serpent. "While this and 
 other reptile faculties grovel on the ground, imagination 
 and fancy, with the eagle and the butterfly, move in liquid 
 air. But the vivipara, my friend, ' in whom should meet 
 the properties of all,' must do neither, or both. Expect 
 therefore from me, if not the stately march of the sub- 
 limest mammalian type, at any rate, nothing worse than 
 the per-saltum locomotion of the kangaroo.
 
 102 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VIIT. 
 
 However powerful my centrifugal force, I shall be cer- 
 tain to be recalled by the at least equally powerful gravita- 
 tion of hunger and thirst, not to mention nakedness. 
 
 The spirit truly is centrifugal, but the flesh centripetal ; 
 wherefore man, being a compound, revolveth in a sphere. 
 Under cover of which theory I retreat to my bed. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Oriel : February 25, 1848. 
 
 Diis alitor visum — so my packet had to lie by a month. 
 Meanwhile, Willie has gone to India, and the French 
 have begun a new revolution. Possibly my letter may 
 bring the news. 
 
 Switzerland has had its revolution, and Naples also ; 
 Tuscany and the Sardinian States have in consequence got 
 new Constitutions, and the Pope has turned off his cardi- 
 nals and replaced them by lay ministers, and it is said is 
 preparing a constitution. Surely the Frenchman mustn't 
 be behind hand ! One can hardly talk of other things 
 when one once gets on this topic. 
 
 Well, and when shall I see you again ? 6 ©fov olosv. Will 
 you hire yourself out as a common labourer ? I hope not ; 
 but one may do worse, undoubtedly; 'tis at any rate 
 honester than being a teacher of XXXIX. Articles. I 
 rejoice to see before me the end of my servitude, yea, even 
 as the weary foot-traveller rejoices at the sight of his 
 evening hostehy, though there still lies a length of dusty 
 road between. But what will follow I can't say. The 
 chances of going abroad will very likely be cut off, for 
 we may shortly see Europam flagrare bello : the Austrianfs 
 driven out of Lombardy by French bayonets. Alter eri 
 tum Lodi, and another Areola shall crown delectos heroes 
 with, we will hope, a better used victory. But the French 
 armies are not quite apostolic, nor do I put nuich faith 
 in Michelet's holy bayonets as preachers of any kind of 
 (fospel.
 
 1848.] ARTIIUll HUGH CLOUGII. 103 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Oriel: April 18, 1848. 
 
 I am glad you liked the Blumen-Frucht und Dorn-stiicke. 
 If there is any fault in Richter, it is perhaps that he is too 
 sentimental ; but it is a great comfort to get a little taste 
 of that sweetmeat now and then ; and in him you have 
 it always not in its merely luscious form, but tempered 
 with agreeable acids and delicate laurel-leaf bitters. 
 
 Up here at Oxford I keep in general company very 
 quiet; insomuch that I heard yesterday that people not 
 unfrequently take me for some little time after introduc- 
 tion to be no less than a Puseyite ; but at the same time, 
 I could sometimes be provoked to send out a flood of lava 
 boiling hot amidst their flowery ecclesiastical fields and 
 parterres. Very likely living in this state of suppressed 
 volcanic action makes one more exasperated than one 
 should be when any sort of a crater presents itself. 
 Natheless, there is wisdom in withholding. 
 
 Tell mother not to finish all her furnishings, and get 
 ' everything handsome about her ' before I come home, 
 which will be about the 1st of May, for then I shall be 
 able to stay if I please for three weeks or more, as my 
 tutorship will be in the hands of another. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Paris: Thursday, May 11, 1848. 
 
 The only events since I wrote on Tuesday have been my 
 visit to the Theatre de la Republique to see Rachel in 
 ' Phedre,' and the arrival of Emerson. With the former I 
 was a little disappointed, but I am going again to study 
 the thing. I have been to see the Jardin des Plantes, and 
 the column erected to the honour of the revolution of 
 July 1830, on the site of the Bastille. It was here that 
 the Republic was solemnly inaugurated in February, and 
 here I think it was they burnt the throne.
 
 104 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VUL 
 
 George Sand's newspaper, the *Vraie Republique,' dis- 
 approves of the new Provisional Grovernment (Arago, 
 Marie, Gamier-Pages, Lamaitine, and Ledru-Eollin) al- 
 together, though privately she is friendly with and indeed 
 attached to Lamartine. 
 
 People are coming up from the country to the great 
 national fete of Sunday next, and of course they all want 
 to go to hear the debates. The weather is splendid; the 
 sun glorifies us by day, the moon by night. 
 
 Sunday, May 14. 
 
 I don't expect much good will come of this present 
 Assembly. It is extremely shopkeeperish and merchantisii 
 in its feelings, and won't set to work at the organisation 
 of labour at all ; but will prefer going to war to keep the 
 people amused, rather than open any disagreeable social 
 questions. The Socialist people are all in the dumps. 
 
 Tuesday, May 16. 
 P.S. — Yesterday was a day of great peril and disorder : 
 an emeute. The Chamber was invaded and turned out 
 by a mob, and the hall occupied by them for two hours. 
 At last the national guard turned them out. A new 
 government had been named by the mob, and some of 
 the chiefs went off to the Hotel de Ville, a mile off, 
 to set it going. However, the national guard followed 
 and put it down. Lamartine came with Ledru-Rollin and 
 rode along the quays to finish the work, with dragoons and 
 cannon. I was at his side for a quarter of a mile, and saw 
 him of course distinctly. There was no firing, and scarce 
 any fighting. The whole thing is put down for the present ; 
 and I am glad it is, on the whole. The cry was ' Vive la 
 Pologne ; ' but the object was to get rid of the Assembly, 
 and set up a more democratic set of people. PVom 1 1 a.m. 
 to 9 P.M., or even later, there was nothing to be seen but 
 crowds and excitement : fifty or sixty are arrested.
 
 1848.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 105 
 
 To Rev. A. P. Stanley. 
 
 Paris: M:iy 14, 1848. 
 Sunday, the fete as should liave l)oen. 
 
 I am still a stranger to th*e Assembly. The difficulty is 
 extreme. Miss * Jewsbury got a diplomatic ticket for two 
 or three hours : she describes them as very good sensible- 
 looking men. She has never been in the House of Com- 
 mons. 
 
 Lamartine's culmination is said to be over ; his declared 
 desire not to part with Ledru-Kollin is the commonly 
 supposed cause of his sinking to the fourth place in the 
 votes. But some say that the bourgeoisie, to shirk the 
 organisation of labour question, are eager for war, and 
 Lam artine, having proclaimed 'Paix a tout prix,' is therefore 
 thought an obstacle. On all hands, there is every prospect, 
 on dit, of war. To-day the rumour ran that the armies 
 had entered Piedmont, and to-morrow comes the Polish 
 (juestion. The Socialists, i.e. the leaders, for the most 
 lament this extremely. The people of course are excited 
 about Poland, and either are indifferent to the Socialist 
 ideas or are blind to the certainty of these questions being 
 then indefinitely adjourned. The boys (17 and 18) of the 
 garde mobile are infected with bourgeoisitic loyalty, also 
 the new members of the national guard. The Socialists 
 simply deplore the whole result ; regard the whole thing 
 as at present a failure — a bourgeoisitic triumph. ' Mais 
 attendons.' * Voila, mon cher,' the socialistic statements 
 as received by me into arrect ears last night from a dis- 
 tinguished St. Simonian. 
 
 The Champ de Mars was not by any means ready yester- 
 day morning for the postponed fete ; when I went I found 
 there only the great statue * La Eepublique en platre,' 
 and a few boards, &c., and not many men at work. There's 
 been thunder and lightning, and ' graudes eaux,' not of 
 Versailles, so perhaps it's as well. Yesterday I had the 
 pleasure of hearing the ' rappel ; " a foolish, unnecessary
 
 106 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VHI. 
 
 order, on account of a quiet Polish petition presentation, 
 and now no one acknowledges to having signed it. How- 
 ever it made row enough at the time. The Socialist 
 party is too weak to attempt anything; in fact they profess 
 that the bourgeoisie is eager to attack and- slaughter them. 
 However, I did see some St. Antoine-ish giants in bonnet- 
 rouge and blouse, who had a very who's afeared ? appear- 
 ance, arguing with and defying well-dressed multitudes 
 in the Eue de Kivoli, about the rappel time yesterday. 
 Citizen Blanqui had, I confeijs, a certain hang-dog con- 
 spirator aspect, which did him no credit. 
 
 Lamartine continues to live in his own house, and is not 
 going to the Ely see Bourbon, nor the other men to the 
 Petit Luxembourg. The Assembly will go on till the next 
 revolution, probably. 
 
 ' Les journaux du soir ! ' * Voila " La Presse," derniere 
 edition du soir ! ' . . . ' " La Seance," demandez " La 
 Seance," " L'Assemblee." ' . . . ' Colere du pere Du- 
 chesne ! . . . le pere en colore ! — cinq centimes, un 
 sou.' . . . ' " La Patrie," voila " La Patrie ! " ' . . . 
 * Les editions du soir, dernieres nouvelles de Pologne ! ' 
 . . . ' L'insurrection de Madrid, par le citoyen Cabet, 
 "Le Populaire," — cinq centimes, un sou.' ' Demandez " La 
 Presse : " grande colere du pere Duchesne, le p^re Duchesne 
 est en veritable colere ! le pere ' . . . ' "Le National," 
 demandez "Le National!" "L'Assemblee Constituente ! " ' 
 
 L , attache of the English press, is of opinion that 
 
 if the money hold out till confidence in a new government 
 gets itself fairly established, all will be well. The people 
 mean to wait and see if their condition is to be mended ; 
 if so well, whatever the form of government ; if not, * we 
 must go into the streets again.' 
 
 You know I am a bad hand at lionising. I do little else 
 than potter about under the Tuileries chestnuts, and here 
 and there about bridges and streets, 'pour savour er la re- 
 jjublique. I contemplate with infinite thankfulness t>ip
 
 1848.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 107 
 
 blue blouses garnished with red of the garde mobile; 
 and emit a perpetual incense of devout rejoicing for the 
 piu'ified state of the Tuileries, into which I find it impos- 
 sible, meantime, to gain admittance. I growl occasionally 
 at the sight of aristocratic equipages which begin to peep 
 out again, and trust that the National Assembly will in its 
 wisdom forbid the use of livery servants. But there is not 
 very much to complain of generally : one cannot better 
 express the state of Paris in this respect, than by the 
 statement that one finds it rather pointed to be seen in the 
 streets with gloves on. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Paris: May 19, 1848. 
 
 Ichabod, Ichabod, the glory is departed I Liberty — 
 Ecpiality and Fraternity, driven back by shop-l;eeping 
 bayonet, hides her red cap in dingiest St. Antoine. Well- 
 to-do-ism shakes her Egyptian scourge to the tune of ' Ye 
 are idle, ye are idle;' the tale of bricks will be doubled: 
 and Moses and Aaron of Socialism can at the best only 
 pray for plagues ; which perhaps will come, paving stones 
 for vivats, and emeutes in all their quarters. 
 
 Meantime, the glory and tlie freshness of the dream is 
 departed. The very garde mobile has dropped its dear 
 blouse and red trimmings for a bourgeoisie-prtetorian 
 uniform, with distinctive green hired soldier epaulettes. 
 The voice of clubs is silenced : inqidsitors only and stone 
 walls of Vincenues list the words of Barbes. Anti-rappel 
 Oourtais no longer hushes the drum which, as he said, 
 vexes the people (' cela fache le peuple ') ; conciliatory active 
 Caussidiere gives place to a high-shop successor. Wliere- 
 fore, bring forth, ye millionaires, the three-months-hid- 
 den carriages ; rub clean, ye new nobles, the dusty em- 
 blazonries ; ride forth, ye cavalier-escorted amazons, in 
 iinl'earing flirtations, to your Bois de Boulogne. The world 
 begins once more to move on its axis, and draw on its kid-
 
 108 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. Vlll. 
 
 gloves. The golden age of the republic displays itself now, 
 you see^ as a very vulgar parcel-gilt era ; nevertheless, in 
 all streets and gardens, proclaims itself 'L'Ere Nouvelle ! ' 
 * La Liberte ! ' ' La Eeforme ! ' . . ' Vraie Republique ! ' 
 . . . ' Grande Seance de I'Assemblee Nationale : dix 
 centimes, deux sous ; seulement deux sous.' ' Arrestation ! ' 
 ' Demandez " La Presse ; " la lettre du citoyen Blanqui ! ' 
 . . . ' Derniers soupirs du pere Duchesne ! ' 
 
 Saturday, May 20. 
 
 To judge from * Galignani's ' extracts, the English papers 
 are as usual exaggerating. I don't believe the affair of 
 the 15th was anything like the conspiracy described in the 
 ' Times ' and ' Chronicle.' 
 
 Monday, May 22. 
 
 The weather performed a most dramatic change ; and 
 Sunday morning, the day of the fete, dawned all glorious. 
 There was a noise of drums as early as four o'clock. I 
 got up about six, and found myself on the Place de la 
 Concorde at a quarter to seven, with a considerable crowd. 
 
 The deputies did not leave the Chamber till half-past 
 eight. They sat on the steps mostly, with their scarfs, &c. 
 About half-past eight they came down and headed the 
 procession. There were parties from the departments, in 
 and out of uniform, with each its flag, Poland, Italy, and 
 Germany mustered a considerable show. There were not 
 above six or seven ' noirs affranchis,' and under a green flag, 
 proclaiming in front * L'Irlande,' and behind ' Club des 
 Trlandais,' walked about three of our fellow-subjects of the 
 sister-island. ' Les blesses ' were noticeable, and ' les vieux 
 de la vieille.' There was a great deal of confusion, march- 
 ing and counter-marching, and there was a full half-hour's 
 interval in the procession before ' le char ' came up ; and 
 it was an ugly affair when it did come. The ' jeunes filles ' 
 looked pretty in their white dresses, with the tricolor 
 streaming from the * left ' shoulder, and artificial oak- 
 wreaths in their hair ; pretty en masse, but individually
 
 1848.] AETITUR HUGH CLOUGH. 109 
 
 not by any means remarkable either for face or figure. 
 Moreover, they were declassicised by their use of parasols. 
 I don't think they and the char got fairly to their work's 
 end till one o'clock. I passed and proceeded to the Champ 
 de Mars, where, a little after twelve, went up the tricolor 
 balloon, but in a rather disorganised condition. My 
 modesty prevented my getting through the exterior circle 
 of national guards ; so that I did not come into the 
 presence of the Government and Assembly, which I believe 
 I might have done. But the perpetual gun-firing gave me 
 a head-ache, and I retired early. The illumination in the 
 Champs Elysees was extremely pretty ; the whole avenue 
 was like a great ball-room, with double rows of pendant 
 chandeliers and continuous festoons of ' lampions ' on each 
 side. The crowd was enormous. It was funny in the 
 afternoon to see the classical virgins walking about with 
 their papas and mammas, people of the under-shoe-making 
 and back-street shopkeepiug class. A good many of them 
 got into the enclosure round the Bourse, and were, about 
 6 P.M., dancing vigorously (without music) with gardes 
 mobiles, and other indiscriminates. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 Paris : May 22. 
 There is no prospect whatever of any immediate recur- 
 rence of disturbances. The old leaders and conspirators 
 are either arrested or in concealment. Within three 
 months time, I have little doubt there will be another 
 emeute. But for the next month I think the Assembly is 
 quite secure, and if only it contrives to find out its wise 
 men, it may survive all troubles, and gradually regenerate 
 the nation. But in this if a great deal of difficulty is in- 
 volved. There are very few English here, but a good many 
 Americans.
 
 no LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VIII. 
 
 To Rev. A. P. Stanley. 
 
 4 Eue MontThabor: May 26, 1848. 
 It is quite certain that the government are hampered 
 extremely by the old Gauche Dynastique, Odillon-Bar- 
 rot and C*% who are adroit debaters, and frighten down 
 the new men. Lamartine thinks it impossible to do the 
 thing without Ledru-Kollin, and the democracy who 
 trust in him ; and in many ways he would wish to con- 
 ciliate and even confide in the bonnet-rouge. But the old 
 Gauche, with the garde boutiquiere to back them, think they 
 may carry things with a high hand ; and in the Chamber 
 are not unsuccessful. Yet it is wholly impossible that a 
 Gauche-Dynastique Republic should succeed ; Lamartine 
 would be fool as well as knave to support such a chimera. 
 It is very possible he may have to go out for a while, of 
 course with Ledru-Rollin ; but unless Thiers comes in to 
 the Chamber and aggravates the mischief by lending his 
 real oratorical power to the Gauche, and indeed I hope 
 even in that contingency, it is very probable Lamartine 
 will gradually discipline the inexperienced new members 
 into a good working majority. I don't hear any one say 
 Lamartine has been paying his debts ; I suppose Ledru- 
 Rollin has. George Sand has gone into the country. 
 She says that the air of Paris seemed ' lourde ' to her, after 
 hearing the ' a-bas ' of the national guard, and after the 
 arrests of so many generous-minded men. Pierre Leroux 
 was arrested, but is released. 
 
 Saturday, May 27. 
 
 So you see, I rely on the wisdom of Lamartine's tactics, 
 however untriumphant at present ; not that I imagine he 
 has got the solution of the labour problem, or that mere 
 well-meaningness and generous aspiration will suffice. But 
 at present no man can absolutely affirm that by any 
 definite plan more is attainable. 
 
 The new elections, you know, are on the 5th ; I shall
 
 1848.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. Ill 
 
 stay till that night at any rate. The cry, * To your Clubs, 
 O Israel ! ' is commencing. Thiers and Girardin will pro- 
 bably get in, but not for Paris. I have just heard them 
 crying, 'Lettred' Henri Cinq au President de I'Assemblee: 
 cinq centimes, im sou.' For the last time but one I return 
 from Kachel's ' Marseillaise.' To-night there is some ' rap- 
 pel ' ing going on somewhere. 
 
 Have you seen in any of the papers revelations of the 
 purposes of the Constituent Committee ? An Assembly of 
 750 ; and a President by universal suffrage ; gratuitous 
 education, and right of work. So I read in the ' Deraocratie 
 Pacifique,' with corroboration. 
 
 The coalition of the more democratic Clubs amongst the 
 representatives will be, I presume, a great assistance to 
 the Grovernment. You know that two, one in the Eue des 
 Pyramides, the other in the Palais National, amounting to 
 200 representants together, and one containing Carnot and 
 another minister, the other presided over by Dupont de 
 I'Eure, have united, and a third is expected to send in its 
 adhesion. 
 
 I have just been to the Club de la Eevolution, ci-devant 
 Barb^s. They had a lively and almost fierce debate about 
 ' fusion.' Were they to * fusionner ' with the National ? 
 advances having been made and ill-received, should they 
 be renewed ? News of Barbes' condition and behaviour in 
 prison were given, and received with clamorous Vive 
 Barbes!! Said Barbes, I hear, is a man of wealth, en- 
 joying, usually in prison, 4,000^. a year. 
 
 I am grieved to hear of the mutilation of our statute. 
 But I should myself accept the most deformed renovation. 
 The list of Chartist petitioners (so to call them) was for- 
 warded to me here, costing about three francs. We, I 
 presume, might easily make up a list of five points : Aboli- 
 tion of Subscription ; Keconstitution of P^ellowships ; New 
 Hebdomadal Board ; Extra-Collegial Matriculation ; and 
 Permanent Commission.
 
 112 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [CiiAr. VIIT. 
 
 Monday, May 29. 
 They are going to remodel, perhaps destroy, the ateliers. 
 I hope not destroy, for I conceive the system to be good, 
 if it were only well managed. At present, undoubtedly, 
 there are great irregularities. Alexander Dumas has writ- 
 ten a Protest against the Decree of Banishment (of the 
 Eoyal Family), which his friend ' La Liberte ' declines to 
 insert (so declareth A. D. in the ' Assemblee Nationale ') for 
 fear of pecuniary loss. The ' Assemblee Nationale ' is a vile 
 Guizotin journal, conducted, I hear, by the man who 
 perjured himself about the pistols in the famous duel case. 
 De Tocqueville voted for the Decree. Odillon-Barrot 
 shirked ; Louis Blanc, apparently, against it. 
 
 Paris: May 30, 1848. 
 
 Paris is tranquil and dull. The bourgeoisie, which 
 had at first awkwardly shuffled on the blouse, is gradually 
 taking heart to slip on its fine clothes again ; and perhaps 
 ere long will unbutton the breeches pocket. 
 
 To-morrow there is to be an ' interpellation ' in the 
 Assembly about the Neapolitan business. One great sub- 
 ject under discussion in the Bureaux (where most of the 
 work is done) is the ' projet de divorce,' simply restoring, 
 I believe, the provisions of the Code Napoleon, which in 
 1816, on the return of the Bourbons, were in like manner 
 simply erased. 
 
 Divorce is allowed for * sevice,' and for incompatibility of 
 temper under restrictions ; e.g. the husband must be above 
 twenty-five, and the wife above twenty-one and under 
 forty-five : and consent of parents must be obtained. Nor 
 can divorce for this cause be allowed except after two (or 
 three) years of marriage. I see it stated that the Bureaux 
 are not favourable. But the great subject of subjects is 
 of course the question of the Ateliers Nationaux. The 
 statistics published in the ' Constitutionnel ' are of course 
 utterly repudiated by the other party, and indeed they
 
 184S.] ARTHUR IlUdll CLOUfilT. 113 
 
 are partly withdrawn by the * Constitutionnel ' itself. But 
 there must be a great deal of irregularity and unfair 
 dealing. For the real ouvriers out-of-work, a franc a day 
 throughout, plus two francs extra for two or three days 
 work, is not, if a man has a family, very extravagant. 
 Rut lots of porters, e. g., are on the list. 
 
 Wednesday, May 31. 
 Last night I visited the Club des Femmes, presided over 
 by a ]Mme. Niboyer. Alas, poor woman I she has a terrific 
 task ; not to speak of having to keep women silent, she 
 has to keep men, or say beasts, in order. The place is 
 filled with them, and a more grievous spectacle of the 
 un-politesse of Frenchmen I never saw ; but I believe it 
 has been a good deal worse. However, Mme. Niboyer is 
 a woman of considerable power and patience, and she 
 works through it, though to what effect I don't know. 
 Perhaps it may be useful for Frenchmen to see a woman 
 face them, and present herself before them not for purposes 
 of flirtation. I got disgusted with my male neighbours, 
 and came away before it ended. The subject was divorce. 
 The feeling, I think, was against the present project, the 
 cries certainly so. 
 
 Edition du soir. 
 
 To-day has produced three remarkable documents : 
 1st. The Grovernment exposition of the events of May 
 15, with which maybe read Lamartine's speech of Tuesday 
 
 night. The blame is left on de Courtais and the 1st 
 
 Legion of the National Guard ! Notice towards the end 
 the phrase ' Y-a-t-il eu de complot ? Qui sont les coupa- 
 bles ? ' questions left at present unsettled. 
 
 2nd. Tlie candidature of our friend A. Dumas. It is 
 due to the Marquis Alexandre to give his own words : ' Ce 
 qu'il faut a la Chambre, c'est des hommes d'energie. Des 
 hommes qui parlent hautement leur pensee. Des hommes 
 <|ui lii soutiennent avec la voix, avec la plume, avec le 
 
 I
 
 114 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. VIII. 
 
 bras, si besoin est. Je crois avoir prouve par la guerre que 
 je fais depuis deux mois a la reaction et a la terreur que 
 je suis de ces hommes. Voulez-vous de moi pour repre- 
 Sentant? Al. Dumas.' 
 
 3rd. The candidature of A. Dumas' friend Joinville, 
 who is proposed by a shopkeeper, who gave his name, 
 dating from the Rue Bergere. ' The Assembly has ex- 
 patriated him ; true ; but the people made the Assembly ; 
 ergo, if the people choose Joinville . . . .' q. e. d. 
 
 The elections (eleven for the Seine, i. e. Paris) are 
 considered very uncertain ; there is all kind of division. 
 Caussidiere, perhaps ? D'Alton Shee, not imlikely ; Chan- 
 garnier. Not Emile de Grirardin, nor Thiers; nor, I 
 presume, any socialist, such as Pierre Leroux, Thores, 
 Proudhon, Cabet. 
 
 Here is a ' mot ' on the situation : * Les seuls hommes 
 possibles sont incapables ; et les seuls capables sont impos- 
 sibles.' Another clever suggestion is that there should 
 always be a 'provisional government, as the only security 
 for pe-mianence. 
 
 Remembrances to all my concitoyens at Oriel ; how 
 many tricolor noeuds shall I bring ? 
 
 To Rev. A, P. Stanley. 
 
 June 6, 1848. 
 
 I am safe again under the umbrageous blessing of 
 constitutional monarchy, at Long's Hotel, Bond-street. I 
 left Paris yesterday. The Republique was ' as well as 
 can be expected.' Of the city of Paris my report must be 
 * left voting,' — voting, and reading in huge attroupements 
 the new edict against attroupements. To-day was to tell 
 the fate of the candidates, and to-morrow commences the 
 reorganisation of the ateliers nationaux.
 
 1848.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 115 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Liverpool: July 16, 1848. 
 
 When I last wrote to you, the three days of February 
 were still echoing, and now the four days of June have 
 scarcely ceased to reverberate ; between which times a good 
 deal has happened both to myself and to the world in 
 general. 
 
 For myself, I went to Paris on the 1st of JNIay, and 
 stayed there five weeks ; saw the opening of the Assembly, 
 the emeute or echauffouree (as they prefer calling it) of 
 the 15th, and the fete of the following Sunday. After the 
 15th the sky was certainly overcast, but in my first fort- 
 night, and in a* degree through the whole time, I was in 
 extreme enjoyment, walked about Jerusalem and told the 
 towers thereof with wonderful delight ; the great impression 
 being that one was rid of all vain pretences, and saw visibly 
 the real nation. The sentry posts were all occupied by men 
 in blouse, of the national or mobile or republican guard, and 
 the Tuileries gardens full of the same blue blouse ; while 
 the Palace itself showed occasionally on its balcony some 
 convalescent ' blesse de Fevrier,' helped along, as he took 
 the air, by wife and child. All things quite ' decently and 
 in order,' without any visible repressive external force; 
 indeed, for two days between the resignation of the Pro- 
 visional and its reappointment as the Executive Com- 
 mittee, there was no government whatever, barring of 
 course the Assembly. 
 
 Lamartine (I saw him and Ledru-Eollin ride to the 
 Hotel de Ville on the 15th,) seems certainly to have been 
 deficient in definite purpose and practicality; but I fancy 
 he and his colleagues hardly had a fair chance ; they had 
 no time to get the Assembly into working condition, 
 hampered in it as they were by Odillon-Barrot and Co. 
 who are very skilful debaters, before the people began to 
 get angry and suspicious. The four days of June I dare- 
 
 I 2
 
 116 LETTERS AXD REMAINS OF [Chap. VIII. 
 
 say you have heard spoken of in a somewhat shrieky accent. 
 But the cruelties are unquestionably exaggerated, and 
 are attributable to the formats, who naturally mixed with 
 the ouvriers, and there are many opposite traits recounted. 
 The story of the cantinieres selling poisoned brandy was 
 not verified by the examination before magistrates, or by 
 the analysis of the chemists. I confess I regard it in the 
 same light as a great battle, with, on the whole, less horror, 
 and certainly more meaning, than most great battles that 
 one reads of. 
 
 However, there is no doubt that France's prospects are 
 dubious and dismal enough, and one is almost inclined to 
 think that the outbreak was premature ; with their ideas so 
 far from ripe, the French had better, if possible, have 
 endured a little longer the immorality of Louis Philippe's 
 government ; but yet, on the whole, one accepts the thing 
 with gratitude. It will, I think, probably accelerate 
 change in England : and perhaps you may yet live to see 
 some kind of palingenesy effected for your repudiated 
 country. Sav/bb av Troppcodsv 18oi/u,t)v. 
 
 The next topic is Emerson, whom I left yesterday on 
 the deck of the Halifax steamer, and saw pass rapidly down 
 the Mersey on his way home. 
 
 He came to Oxford just at the end of Lent term, and stayed 
 three days. Everybody liked him, and as the orthodox 
 mostly had never heard of him, they did not suspect him ; 
 he is the quietest, plainest, unobtrusivest man possible ; will 
 talk, but will rarely discourse to more than a single person, 
 and wholly declines ' roaring.' He is very Yankee to look at, 
 lank and sallow, and not qidte without the twang ; but his 
 looks and voice are pleasing nevertheless, and give you the 
 impression of perfect intellectual cultivation, as completely 
 as would any great scientific man in England — Faraday or 
 Owen, for instance, more in their way perhaps than in 
 that of Wordsworth or Carlyle. I have been with him a 
 great deal ; for he came over to Paris and was there a
 
 1848.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 117 
 
 month, during which we dined together daily: and since 
 *hat I have seen him often in London, and finally here. 
 One thing that struck everybody is that he is much less 
 Emersonian than his Essays. There is no dogmatism or 
 arbitrariness or positiveness about him. 
 
 Next to myself, is, I suppose, accounted the wildest 
 
 and most ecervele republican going. I myself, apropos of 
 a letter of Matt's, which he directed to Citizen Clough, 
 Oriel liyceum, Oxford, bear that title par excellence. 
 
 Waterhead : September 4. 
 
 I have been visiting Fisher in Patterdale, where he has 
 his first reading-party. He got a first-class duly and 
 honourably at Easter, -narpos dfjisivojv, outdoing his coach. 
 
 I believe I shall probably, in about six weeks' time, 
 publish, conjointly with Burbidge. a volume of poems. 
 Some of them I hope you will like, but I don't think much 
 will come of it. I don't intend writing any more verse, 
 but have a notion for essays. I gave my tutorship up at 
 Easter, and I seriously think of doing the same with the 
 fellowship in October at latest. 
 
 To 
 
 Oxford: October 23, 184S. 
 
 My relations wrote kindly and temperately {on hearing 
 of the resignation of the felloiaship), on the whole ; made 
 the most of conscientiousness, but were alarmed with ideas 
 of extreme and extravag-ant views. 
 
 My little book, I hope, will be out in ten days. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 99 Holywell, Oxford : November 6, 1848. 
 I have given up the fellowship, though the Provost 
 still forbears to go through the formal step of officially 
 announcing my resignation ; so that I am loose on the
 
 118 LETTERS ATs^D REMAINS OF [Chap. VIII. 
 
 world, and, being just out of my old place, I am ready to 
 look at every new place, and likely enough to go to none. 
 Even if literature does look likely, I confess I should like 
 to knock about the world a little bit more before I do much 
 in that way; yea, though I am all but thirty already. I am 
 extremely jolly meantime, rejoicing in my emancipation. I 
 stay up here ; it is now three weeks within twenty-four hours 
 since I resigned ; and people don't cut me at all. 1 dine 
 at some high tables, and generally (retaining my gown, for 
 I don't wish to volunteer to cast that off) I am treated as 
 a citizen. 
 
 I have an invitation to stand for the Headship of the 
 new University Hall (on the Oxford and Cambridge 
 College system) to be attached to University College, 
 London. My poem ' The Bothie of Tober-Na-Vuolich,' in 
 about 2,000 hexameters, ' A Long- Vacation Pastoral,' has 
 appeared, and has tolerable success in Oxford ; but that its 
 local allusions might readily give it. 
 
 To his Sister. 
 
 December 1848. 
 
 It is far nobler to teach people to do what is good 
 because it is good simply, than for the sake of any future 
 reward. It is, I daresay, difficult to keep up an equal 
 religious feeling at present, but it is not impossible, and is 
 necessary. Besides, if ive die and come to nothing it does 
 not therefore follow that life and goodness will cease to be 
 in earth and heaven. If we give over dancing, it doesn't 
 therefore follow that the dance ceases itself, or the music. 
 Be satisfied, that whatever is good in us will be immortal; 
 and as the parent is content to die in the consciousness of 
 the child's survival, even so, why not we ? There's a 
 screed which will suffice for the present. 
 
 A belongs, I see, to the new High Churchites, who 
 
 want to turn all the quiet people adrift ; it is the New 
 Plot ; but so long as one isn't obliged to sign articles, or
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 119 
 
 go to daily service, or prayer-meeting-, or the like, I don't 
 see why one should excommunicate oneself. As for the 
 Unitarians, they're better than the other Dissenters, and 
 that's all ; but to go to their chapels, — no ! 
 
 To R. W. Emerson^ Esq. 
 
 February 10, 1849. 
 
 My dear Sir, — How could I tell you of my Pastoral -to- 
 be when it had not been thought of? It was only begun 
 in September, and when I left you in July on the deck of 
 your steamer, I had no thought of that or any other new 
 poem. I hope ere this a little volume, half belonging to 
 me, half to an old scliool friend, will have reached you : 
 this does contain old things, the casualties of at least ten 
 years. 
 
 You may fancy how truly welcome all your kind praise 
 of the first of them has been to me ; so far as praise goes I 
 hardly venture to accept it, but as recognition I heartily 
 feed on it. Meantime, in England I shall not be troubled 
 with a very onerous weight of celebrity. Mr. Kingsley, a 
 chief writer in ' Fraser,' devoted the whole of a cordial 
 eulogistic article to the ' Pastoral,' and has made it toler- 
 ably known ; but the ' Spectator ' was contemptuous ; and 
 in Oxford, though there has been a fair sale and much talk 
 of it, the verdict is, that it is 'indecent and profane, 
 immoral and (I) communistic' 
 
 Will you convey to Mr. Longfellow the fact that it was. 
 a reading of his ' Evangeline ' aloud to my mother and 
 sister, which, coming after a reperusal of the ' Iliad,' occa- 
 sioned this outbreak of hexameters ?
 
 J 20 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 APPOINTED PRINCIPAL OF UNIVERSITY HALL — VISIT TO ROME — 
 EASTER DAY POEM AND DIPSYCHUS. 
 
 In the beginning of 1849, A. H. Clough accepted the 
 Headship of University Hall, London, an institution then 
 jvist founded. He took the opportunity of the interval 
 before the opening of it in October to make a journey 
 to Rome, which happened to fall at the time of the siege 
 of Rome by the French, of which he witnessed the whole 
 course. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Liverpool : February 15, 1849. 
 
 Alea jacta est; I stay for the present here. I have 
 accepted the position at University Hall ; and commence 
 there in October, with a good deal of misgiving it must be 
 confessed ; but on the whole, I believe myself right. I 
 am not so clear as you are of the rottenness of this poor 
 old ship here. Something, I think, we rash young men 
 may learn from the failure and discomfiture of our friends 
 in the new republic. The millennium, as Matt says, won't 
 come this bout. I am myself much more inclined to be 
 patient and make allowance for existing necessities than I 
 was. The very fighting of the time taught one that there 
 were worse things than pain, and makes me more tolerant 
 of the less acute though more chronic miseries of society ; 
 these also are stages towards good, or conditions of good. 
 Whether London will take my hopefulness out of me 
 remains to be seen. Peut-etre.
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 121 
 
 I like the Manchester people, of whom I liave been 
 seeing a little, better than the Liverpuddliaus. Tliey are 
 more provincial perhaps, but have more character ; are 
 less men of the world, but more men of themselves. 
 Your sanguine friend still puts his trust in master manu- 
 facturers, as in those olden foolish days, when the face of 
 Fortescue shone triumph in the Decade. Yet why be 
 troubled about politics and social matters ? 
 
 Here also, as on the Poirirua road, sweet odours of 
 human nature ascend to the heavens. To quit the country 
 for altogether is not, so far as I can tell, my vocation. 
 This may be Ur of the Chaldees, or even Egypt, but no 
 angel hath as yet spoken to me, either in dreams by night 
 or in any burning bush of the desert. 
 
 February 24. 
 To-day, my dear brother republican, is the glorious 
 anniversary of the great revolution of '48, whereof what 
 shall we now say ? Put not your trust in republics, nor 
 in any institution of man. God be praised for the down- 
 fall of Louis Philippe. This, with a faint feeble echo of 
 that loud last year's scream of a bas Guizot, seems to be 
 the sum total ; or are we to salute the rising sun with 
 Vive I'Empereur and the green liveries? Meantime, the 
 great powers are to restore the Pope, and crush the renas- 
 cent (alite lugubri) Roman republic, of which Joseph 
 Mazzini has just been declared a citizen. 
 
 To his Mother. 
 
 Rome, Hotel d'Angleterrc : April 18, 1849. 
 
 I am at Rome ; I stayed two days at Paris, where I called 
 on your American friends the Murats, and saw ]Madame and 
 her sister. She is now Mme. la Princesse, and her daughter 
 Mdlle. la Princesse. 
 
 There is no immediate expectation of any change in the 
 government here ; the only difficulty is to get money. 
 They are going to divide the lands of the Church in small
 
 122 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 farms among the peasants ; but payment will not be made 
 for some time for these allotments. 
 
 St. Peter's disappoints me : the stone of which it is made 
 is a poor plastery material ; and, indeed, Eome in general 
 might be called a rvhhishy place ; the Roman antiquities 
 in general seem to me only interesting as antiquities, and 
 not for any beauty. The Arch of Titus is, I could almost 
 say, the only one really beautiful relic I have yet seen. I 
 have seen two beautiful views since I came, one from San 
 Pietro in Montorio, the other from the Lateran Church, over 
 the Campagna. The weather has not been very brilliant. 
 
 April 21. 
 
 I have seen the Vatican gallery and Sistine Chapel. To- 
 day being the natal day of Rome, was to have been a great 
 feast, with illumination of the Coliseum, &c., but it is im- 
 possible for the weather. 
 
 I see the ' Times ' tells very odd stories of Eome. People 
 here tell you that it has been bought by Austria. At any 
 rate the story of the proposed sale of the Belvidere Apollo 
 to the Americans is as simply a joke, I am told, as another 
 story, that the Pantheon was sold to the English for a 
 Protestant chapel. 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, Esq. 
 
 Rome : April 23, 1849. 
 In my way here I saw Grenoa again, and visited the 
 Doria Palace, which had just been quitted by the victorious 
 Piedmontese soldiery, who had not, I am glad to say, 
 damaged the frescoes on the ceilings, as far as I saw (the 
 battle of the Titans, which I suppose is the finest, was 
 ([uite uninjured), but in other respects had played all sorts 
 of furious and beastly pranks. The balcony with the 
 fresco figures of Andrea Doria and his family is a good 
 deal damaged, one or two cannon-balls have passed 
 through, and the soldiers have scratched it with their
 
 1849.] AKTIIUR HUGH CLOUGII. 1-2.3 
 
 bayonets. The furniture is all destroyed ; it belonged, 
 they say, to the Prince of Carignano, the King's uncle or 
 cousin, who had latterly taken the palace : gilded cupboards 
 and tables, japanned cabinets and chess-boards, porcelain 
 vases and French clocks, mingled their precious fragments 
 on the floors, with relics of bread and other deposits, among 
 which empty bottles should l)e mentioned; the Prince 
 appears to have had a fine assortment of Madeira. No 
 other damage is done in Grenoa. 
 
 About 1 50 refugees came off with us in the French 
 steamer ; the government paid for them as far as Leghorn, 
 but at Leghorn they wouldn't have them, so they came 
 on to Civita Vecchia, and I see several of them about in 
 the streets ; they are incorporated with the other forces. 
 
 Yesterday was the most lively day I have had here. In 
 the morning a review in the Piazza before St. Peter's, 
 where Avezzana, the Genoese commander, who is also an 
 American citizen, and is now Minister of V»^ar, reviewed 
 about 10,000 men and twenty pieces of artillery. In the 
 evening a grand illumination of the Campidoglio, Forum, 
 &c,, all the way to the Coliseum, which was the great scene. 
 When I entered, it was mostly dark, and a great crowd 
 filling it, a band somewhere above the entrance playing 
 national hymns. At the end of the great hymn, of which 
 I don't know the name, while the people were clapping, 
 viva-ing and encoring, light began to spread, and all at 
 once the whole amphitheatre was lit up with — the trois 
 couleurs ! the basement red fire, the two next stories 
 green, and the plain white of the common light at the top. 
 Very queer, you will say; but it was really fine, and I should 
 think the Coliseum never looked better than it did, if not 
 then, at least afterwards, when the plain light was left, and 
 the area got cleared. The same thing was done again for 
 the outside. 
 
 In the afternoon, I bad paid my visit to Mazzini ; a 
 French envoy or agent was with him, and I had to acknow-
 
 124 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 ledge the triumviral dignity by waiting almost an hour in 
 the ante-chamber. However, on the envoy's retiring, he 
 discoursed with me for half an hour. He is a less fanatical 
 fixed-idea sort of man than I had expected ; he appeared 
 shifty, and practical enough. He seemed in excellent 
 spirits, and generally confident and at ease. He asked me 
 if I had seen anything of the pillaging, which the English 
 papers were acquainted with; he said that any of the 
 English residents would bear witness to the perfect tran- 
 quillity, even greater than before, which prevailed in the 
 city (and certainly I see nothing to the contrary). 
 
 The ' Times,' he said, mtist be dishonest, for the things 
 it spoke of as facts were simply not facts ; emeutes where 
 emeutes had never been thought of ; the only outbreak had 
 been at Ascoli, near the Neapolitan frontier, where a sort of 
 brigandage had been headed by two or three priests, but 
 easily suppressed. In Rome there were plots going on 
 amongst some of the nobles and priests, but they were well 
 known to the government. The temper of the people and 
 the Assembly alike was clearly against the restoration of the 
 temporal power ; on that point he believed the Right would 
 go heartily with the Left in the Assembly, and the people 
 be unanimous. The object at present was rather to repress 
 violence against the priest-party or Neri, to which some sec- 
 tions of the populace Avere inclined ; but this the govern- 
 ment was careful to do. The feeling everywhere is, he says, 
 simply political or national. Communism or Socialism are 
 things undreamt of. Social changes are not needed; there 
 are no manufacturing masses, and in the lands there is 
 a metayer system. You have heard perhaps that they are 
 going to divide church lands amongst peasants ; this is true, 
 but only of a portion, a surplus he called it, after provi- 
 sion is made for the carrying on of the services of each 
 establishment. They have got about 22,000 troops, and 
 mean to have 50,000, so as to be able to take the field, at 
 any rate not in mere despej-ation. But he expects foreign
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 125 
 
 intervention in the end, and of course thinks it likely 
 enough that tiie Komana ReppuLlica will fall. Still he 
 is convinced that the separation of the temporal and 
 spiritual power is a thing- to be, and that to restore the 
 Pope as before will merely breed perpetual disquiet, con- 
 spiracies, assassinations, &c. ; and he thinks it possible 
 the Great Powers may perceive this in time. The French 
 envoy had asked him if he would apply to France for 
 protection ; he said, No, but that if France or any other 
 power offered protection, they would welcome it. 
 
 So much for Mazzini. Meantime, Eome is very peace- 
 able to all appearance, rather cold however, and very 
 rainy : the illumination, which you should be told was in 
 honour of the Palilia, was put off one day in consequence. 
 I do not observe much enthusiasm for the Eomana Rep- 
 publica : but neither do I hear as much complaint as might 
 be expected from the shop-folk and foreigners' jackals. 
 The religious customs seem to thrive still ; they kissed 
 away yesterday at St. Peter's toe as fast as they could 
 have done in its best days. Money however is scarce ; one 
 pays 30 per cent for silver, and Mazzini acknowledged that 
 the financial crisis was a great difficulty ; but, as he said, it 
 was unavoidable in revolutions. I get on but poorly in 
 lionising, but have at last to-day seen the Sibyls. How 
 much of this is restoration? how much is really Raphael? 
 Michael Angelo's Moses has 'met my views' as much as 
 anything I have seen. Are the two figures beside it also 
 by M. Angelo ? And tell me, what is M. Angelo's design 
 for St. Peter's exactly ? do the huge inside pilasters belong- 
 to him ? I think it utterly lamentable and destructive 
 that his plan was not carried out. 
 
 Tell Blackett he really must defend S. P. Q. R. in the 
 ' Grlobe.' It is a most respectable republic; it really {ipse 
 dixit) thought of getting a monarch, but couldn't find one 
 to suit.
 
 12G LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Ciiai-. IX. 
 
 To Ms Sister. 
 
 Rome : April 30, 1849. 
 
 Perhaps it will amuse you hereafter to have a letter 
 commenced while guns are firing, and I suppose men 
 falling dead and wounded. Such is the case on the other 
 side the Tiber, while I peacefully write in my distant 
 chamber with only the sound in my ears. I went up to 
 the Pincian Hill and saw the smoke and heard the occa- 
 sional big cannon, and the sharp succession of skirmishers' 
 volleys — bang, bang, bang — away beyond St. Peter's. 
 They say the French have settled down in three positions, 
 and do not mean to enter till the Neapolitans arrive. And 
 the affair of to-day is probably only with their advanced 
 guard : the Eomans profess to have carried off four cannon 
 
 and fifty prisoners, but who knows ? 
 
 May 2. 
 
 600 prisoners and 500 killed and wounded, they say. 
 
 The French have certainly retired. Bu^t the Neapolitans 
 
 are at hand. 
 
 To his Mother. 
 
 Rome: May 11, 1849. 
 
 The war would seem to you very small if you saw it; 
 and except for the nuisance of all galleries being shut, 
 I should be very well content. We are all safe and com- 
 fortable, with British flags hanging out of our windows ; 
 and Lord Napier, an attache of the British Embassy at 
 Naples, has been here, and is at present, I believe, at Palo, 
 a port between this and Civita Vecchia, where H.M. S. 
 ' Bulldog ' is lying, and has arranged with Marshal 
 Oudinot that his troops are to behave politely to us. 
 Which troops came again yesterday within three miles, 
 but have done nothing, and are said to be retiring. The 
 Neapolitans, i.e. a detachment of 7,000 men near Pales- 
 trina, are stated to have got a severe licking from the 
 corps of Garibaldi, about 5,000, the day before yesterday.
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 127 
 
 The ouly awkward thing that has liappened in the city 
 has been the killing of four or perhaps five priests by the 
 mob, soon after the news of the advance of the Nea- 
 politan army. Some say that one of them had fired out 
 of a window and killed a soldier ; others that they were 
 found making off to the Neapolitans. However, some, I 
 don't know the exact number, were killed in the street. 
 Next day the government sent out a proclamation, and I 
 have heard of no more outrages of this kind. Some plun- 
 dering by the troops has given trouble, but they seem to 
 be suppressing it. 
 
 Meantime the gates are all shut, and the streets strongly 
 barricaded. The Pincian gardens, the great resort for 
 walking, are closed and fortified, and between the Trinita 
 dei jNIonti and Sta. Maria Maggiore, in one line of streets, 
 you can count I think six barricades, besides smaller ones 
 in the side streets. 
 
 My great affliction is that the Vatican is shut up. I got 
 into the Sistine Chapel, however, and St. Peter's of course 
 is open. These and the Pantheon are my resources. Many 
 of the churches are occupied as hospitals (the French- 
 men who were taken up wounded are very kindly and 
 lovingly treated there, I am told ; and they have sent back 
 their prisoners without stipulation), and the Palaces are 
 
 mostly shut up. 
 
 May 16. 
 
 Two French commissioners arrived here 3^esterday, and 
 it is understood that France has more peaceful intentions 
 than appeared before. 
 
 Miiy 17. 
 
 Hostilities are suspended between us and the French. 
 I shall be as greatly surprised as pleased if the two 
 republics come to a good understanding. The people here 
 will not like to have the Pope except as Head of the 
 Church, and the French will insist on something more.
 
 128 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 May 28, 1849. 
 
 At last I have got my permit for the Vatican. Once 
 having seen a couple of lines from Mazzini, how the 
 officials skipped about for me ! I was ashamed really to 
 take all they offered me, good creatures. If I could have 
 got this paper before, it would have been much better ; but 
 I had great reluctance to obtrude myself on the Dictator, 
 as the ' Times ' calls him, and some difficulty to get at him 
 at last, he being, of course, ' moltissimo occupato.' 
 
 Bulbs from the fountain of Egeria I have no chance of 
 getting, nor shall I see Tivoli, Albano, or Nemi, for it 
 requires a permit from the Minister of War, and I cannot 
 for shame bother the Dictator any further with my trivial 
 English -tourist importunities. 
 
 The Romans are content the French should remain at 
 Civita Vecchia, or even Viterbo (for the sake of health). 
 They sent them the other day an immense quantity of 
 cigars and snuff for a present. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Rome: May 24, 1849. 
 
 You will have heard of our driving back the French 
 (April 30), and amongst many lies would probably detect 
 the fact that the French never entered the town. 
 Whether the Eoman Eepublic will stand I don't know, 
 but it has under ]Mazziui's inspiration shown a wonderful 
 courage and a glorious generosity, and at any rate has 
 shaken to its foundations the Odillon-Barrot Ministry, 
 which I trust may yet go to its own place. 'Peace be 
 with all such ! ' 
 
 I live here, studying chiefly Michael Angelo, specially 
 in the Sistine Chapel. I believe the engraving of his 
 ' Creation of Eve ' there, more than anything else, led me 
 to Rome. T conceive myself to under.stand his superiorit}'-
 
 184!).] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 129 
 
 and Leonardo da Vinci's to Eapliael, who is only natural, 
 while they are intellectual: he produces with, and they out 
 of nature. The idea of St. Peter's has been wholly killed 
 out of it, partly by the horrid internal ornaments, but still 
 more completely by the change of the form from a Greek 
 to a Latin cross ; the latter belonging to Grothic, which 
 Michael Angelo rejects, because he asserts totality. 
 There ! 
 
 To Rev. A. P. Stanley. 
 
 Rome: May 24. 1849. 
 
 Your historic soul shall be gratified — better late than 
 never — with an account of the fight of the 30th of April; 
 fatto d'armi gloriosissimo. * Yes, we are fighting at last.'* 
 
 ... * Meantime, the ^quians and Volscians, quitting 
 Algidus and concentrating their scattered forces on 
 Velitrae, ventured under the walls of this stronghold to 
 give battle to the detachment of Graribaldians which the 
 bold temper of their leader had brought up somewhat in 
 advance of the main body of the Eomans. The enemy, 
 driven after a severe conflict into the town, acknowledsfed 
 his discomfiture by a retreat during the following night in 
 the direction of Terracina.' 
 
 There, to be translated into the style of Livy. 
 
 However, I forbear to proceed, for it is a fatiguing exer- 
 cise, and ere this goes, our history will have something- 
 newer to record than the fuga del Ke Bomba of Sunday, 
 3 A.M., 30th inst. 
 
 May 31. 
 
 If you are interested in our politics you should study 
 the letters to Lesseps by Mazzini. Only a vagrant artist 
 or two represent with me our country. Freeborn, British 
 Consul, abides with his flag ; but Lowe, the British grocer, 
 is at Florence. Piale, successor of Monaldini, is a huge 
 republican, and stands at corners in f\dl civica uniform, 
 shutting up the reading-room. The Miss Pfyfifers also love 
 
 * Poems, p. 190 ct seq.
 
 ft 
 
 130 LETTERS AND KEMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 their country and hate the priests ; but their betrothed 
 lovers being of the old Gfuardia Nobile, take the other 
 line. Papa Pfyffer (my landlord) follows these, but pro- 
 tests against cardinalism loudly. Priests, by the way, 
 walk about in great comfort — arm-in-arm with a soldier, 
 perhaps ; in cafes and legnos and all profane places they 
 are seen circulating as freely at least as government 
 paper. Confession is still administered openly with long 
 sticks in St. Peter's, and the Apostle's toe multitudinously 
 kissed. The Bambino also drives about to see the sick in 
 infinite state, and is knelt to and capped universally. 
 
 Wandering about alone and wdth the map I have been 
 twice hailed by the civicas as a ' spione,' but after some 
 prattle affectionately dismissed. The barricades are very 
 strong. A perfect agger Serviauus and fossa Quii^tium 
 crosses the road between the Palatine and Aventine ; and 
 before the Porta del Popolo there is an immense work. 
 In the line from the Trinita del Monte to Sta. Maria 
 Maggiore there are five or six, besides laterals. The 
 soldiers, so far as one sees, are well behaved ; but the 
 government has been scolding a good deal. It is pleasant 
 to my pastoral soul to see them sitting by market-women 
 and shelling peas. I have only seen Mazzini once, but 
 have been up to his rooms three or four times. Anyone can 
 go ; he is sadly ahopv^opos for a rvpavvos, and I wonder no 
 spirited Jesuit has yet looked in with a pistol. 
 
 June 1. 
 
 At this moment comes a rumour to say that the French 
 are comhinati with us. But no ; it proves that after 
 getting certain conditions accepted by the Eomans, 
 Lesseps had them refused by Oudinot, so he is off to Paris 
 to see about it there. INIeantime, I take it, Oudinot will 
 only sulk without fighting. 
 
 June 3. 
 
 On the contrary, just the reverse. They are at it, at- 
 at-at it, with small arms frequent and occasional cannons,
 
 1849.] ARTHUR JIUGII CLOUGII. 131 
 
 at the Porta San Pancrazio. We becran at four this mornincr. 
 Oudinot had said distinctly he would not attack before 
 Monda}'^, but his Parisiaca fides brings him here this pre- 
 sent blessed Sunday. 
 
 11 P.M. 
 
 After something like seventeen hours' fighting, entirely 
 outside in the Villa Pamfili grounds, here we are in statu 
 quo, barring a good many morti e feriti. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Sunday, 10 .-v.m., Juik' 3. 
 This is being written while guns are going off, there — , 
 there — , there! For the P>ench are attacking us again. 
 j\Iay the Lord scatter and confound them ! For a fort- 
 night or more they have been negotiating and talking, 
 and inducing the government to send off men against the 
 Austrians at Ancona, and now here they are with their 
 cannon. It is a curious affair, truly ; the French Envoy 
 Plenipotentiary makes an accommodamento ; the General 
 repudiates it, and, without waiting even for advice from 
 Paris, attacks. 
 
 To J. C. Shahj/, Esq. 
 
 Rome-: Juue 2, 1849. 
 
 Concerning Komau politics, hath not God made great 
 newspapers, and appointed the ' Times ' for certain seasons ? 
 
 Which even though it lie . . . But briefly for P 's 
 
 sake. Lesseps, the envoy, agreed yesterday to four con- 
 ditions with the Roman government : the French army to 
 go into cantonments in the healthy districts hereabouts, 
 but not in the city : guaranteeing these districts against 
 foreign invasion, but exercising no political power, till 
 things should be settled. But Oudinot repudiates. There, 
 — but for the awful lies which all the newspapers, 
 specially the ' Debats,' ' Constitutionnel,' and ' Times ' 
 indulge in, I would not have said a word thereupon. But 
 they do lie, indeed !
 
 132 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 June 3. 
 No ; your letter won't go to-day : for the French are 
 attacking us — there ! there ! ' But do Thou unto them as 
 unto the Midianites. my Grod, make them like unto 
 a wheel.' 
 
 10 P.M. 
 
 Seventeen blessed hours have they battled — 3.30 a.m. to 
 8.30 P.M., and the French, I am told, have been unable to 
 plant their cannon against the wall. The Villa Pamfili 
 has been taken and retaken two or three times. But to us 
 only smoke and occasional flashes are visible. 
 
 June 4, Tuesday. 
 They can't get in ; they banged away by moonlight 
 most of last night; but as I see a French,officer at Toulon 
 
 says, Oudinot is not the man. 
 
 June 5. 
 This is the third day, and they are still outside. The 
 Pancrazio untaken, and the Villa Pamfili in our hands 
 still. 
 
 June 18, Monday. 
 Groing, going, and to-morrow I shall be gone. "We 
 have had a fortnight of gunnery, and what now, heaven 
 knows ; perhaps more gunnery ; but to-day I hear hardly 
 anything. Yes,— there is one. But we have been bom- 
 barded, think of that ! It is funny to see how like any 
 other city a besieged city looks. Unto this has come our 
 grand Liberty-Equality-and-Fraternity Revolution ! 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, Esq. 
 
 Rome : June 21, 1849. 
 
 Shall I date one more letter from Rome ? I hope to get 
 off to-day, but Frenchmen break down bridges. Here 
 we are in the nineteenth day of our siege, expecting 
 immediate assault, of which however I hear as yet no 
 notice. In the way of cannonade or fusillade, all at this 
 moment is silent. But the breach is full}^ big enough, and 
 the last breach was being made, they say, two or even three
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 133 
 
 days ai^o. Meantime all is tranquil witliin. The soldiers, I 
 think, will fight to the last, and then retire upon the castle 
 or into the mountains. And though I suspect some plotting 
 is at work, yet the whole basso popolo will fight, and tlie 
 middle classes mostly, and the * youth ' almost universally 
 will at least offer a passive resistance. It is curious 
 how much like any other city a city under bombardment 
 looks. One goes to the Ara Cell or the Palatine to look 
 at the firing ; one hears places named where shells have 
 fallen ; one sees perhaps a man carrying a bit of one. 
 
 The * Monitore ' this morning says, that the Temple of 
 Fortune has been damaged, and that a ball has entered 
 the roof exactly above the Aurora of Guido. 
 
 The Eomans have suffered heavy losses in their sorties ; 
 but they seem to have obstructed the works a good deal. 
 The French papers spoke of ten days as the utmost space 
 required for preparation ; and on the 12th Oudinot an- 
 nounced himself ready to enter. 
 
 Assure yourself that there is nothing to deserve the 
 name of ' the Terror.' There may be timidity in the 
 passiveness of the Moderates, and I will not say that if 
 they tried resistance against the Government, they would 
 not be suppressed force by force. But one sees no intimi- 
 dation. Since May 4th the worst thing I have witnessed 
 has been a paper in MS. put up in two places in the Corso, 
 pointing out seven or eight men for popular resentment. 
 This had been done at night : before the next eveninor a 
 proclamation was posted in all the streets, from (I am 
 sure) Mazzini's pen, severely and scornfully castigating 
 such proceedings. A young Frenchman in a cafe, hearing 
 his country abused, struck an Italian; he was of course 
 surroimded, but escaped by the interference of the 
 national guard and of the British Consul. The soldiers, 
 so far as I see, are extremely well behaved, far more 
 seemly than our regulars ; they are about of course in the 
 streets and cafes, but make no disorder. Ladies walk in
 
 134 LETTERS AND REMAINS OP [Chap. IX. 
 
 the Corso till after 10 p.m. Farewell ; I must go and see 
 
 about my place. 
 
 Alas ! it is hopeless. I am doomed to see the burning 
 
 of Rome, I suppose. The world, perhaps in the same day, 
 
 will lose the Vatican and me ! However, they won't get 
 
 in yet, I guess. 
 
 June 22. 
 
 It may have been merry in Dunfermline grey when all 
 the bells were ringing ; but here at Rome it is by no 
 means so. They are sounding the storm-alarm. Venit 
 summa dies. During the night the French made a gene- 
 ral attack from the Portese south to the Popolo north, 
 and managed to throw a body of 500 (?) men into a 
 solitary house within the walls, at the soiith-west corner. 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, E.-^q. 
 
 Rome : Juue '28, 1849. 
 
 I wrote on the 22nd, just after the misfortune of the 
 night of the 21st. I was not then certain of the fact, that 
 the passage of the breach was effected without a shot 
 being tired; the 600 men of the Roman line who were 
 there were seized with a panic, and their commanding 
 officer is said to have told them to save themselves — any- 
 how, save themselves they did, and only lost a barricade, 
 which these poor brutes had been working at for a month. 
 A very fatal go, indeed ; but not so immediately fatal as 
 was expected when I wrote, and when all the bells were 
 ringino-. The batteries of the new Roman line com- 
 manded the breach, and the French have had to dig a 
 trench to secure their advance. 
 
 In the following night (of Friday, 22nd) an immense 
 number of bombs were thrown ; they fell chiefly in 
 the Piazza di Venezia, Piazza Sant' Apostoli, and Via del 
 Gesii. I do not think much harm was done, and the 
 people took it coolly enough. I found a crowd assembled 
 about 9 P.M. in the north-east corner of the Piazza Colonna,
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 135 
 
 watching these pretty fire-works, * ecco un altro ! ' One 
 first saw the ' lightning ' over the Post-office ; then came the 
 missive itself, describing its tranquil parabola ; then the 
 distant report of the mortar ; and finally the near explosion, 
 which occasionally took place in the air. This went on 
 all night. But it has not been repeated in the same 
 degree. The Consuls have remonstrated with Oudinot, but 
 he, I believe, pleads ' orders.' The operations meantime, 
 till yesterday, were unimportant, e.g. four cannon were 
 got up on the breach, but the Eoman batteries say that 
 they upset them. On Sunday night, however, the 26th, 
 there was another general attack, and under cover of this 
 the French got their guns planted on the breach, and 
 were playing Avith these all yesterday upon our batteries of 
 S. Pietro in Montorio, which I fear will not be long 
 tenable. 
 
 This morning I hear nothing I can rely on, and consider- 
 ing the bombs, I forbore to visit my look-out of the Ara 
 Celi. As for the feelings of the people, I can of course say 
 little. I fancy the middle-class Romans think it rather 
 useless work, but they don't feel strongly enough on the 
 matter to make them take steps against a government 
 which I believe has won their respect alike by its modera- 
 tion and its energy ; perhaps, too, they are afraid of the 
 troops, under which term however do not understand 
 foreigners, unless you choose to give that name to the levies 
 of the Papal States in general. Visiting the Monte Cavallo 
 hospital the other day, where there are I think 200 men, 
 three Poles and one Frenchman were specially pointed out 
 to me, that I might say some words of French to them. 
 All the others I saw were Italians, from Bologna, Ferrara, 
 Eavenna, Perugia, and soforth. There was one Swiss. 
 Most of them had received their wounds on the 3rd. 
 Nice fellows they seemed, young, and mostly cheerful, spite 
 of their hurts. One had lost an arm and a leg ; another 
 had a ball in his hip yet to be extracted ; * and the like.'
 
 136 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 On the whole, I incline to think they will fight it out to 
 the last, but chi lo sa? 
 
 We have a General Archioni, a Milanese noble, a fine 
 brave fellow, in the lodgings here, with his secretary and 
 capo del state maggiore, and a soldier or two. He was 
 posted at the Villa Ludovisi, and thither two days ago we 
 all went — fourteen, ' Mama ' and four daughters, and niece, 
 and their escort, a gay party of pleasure. 
 
 Festa di San Pietro : Friday, 29. 
 
 I have been this morning to the Coliseum, whence you 
 see the position very well and securely. The French bat- 
 teries are too strong for the Eomans, I think ; they respond 
 but feebly. The secretary of the General here detected two 
 nights ago some people making signals ; he took some 
 * civicas ' and went and arrested them ; there were three 
 monks and two ' civicas ' in open communication with the 
 French, while it was still daylight. A good deal of this 
 telegraphing goes on, they tell me. 
 
 The ' panic ' of the 21st seems to have been a good deal 
 felt as a disgrace; these last few days they have been 
 fighting very bravely, I take it. The ' Moniteur ' this 
 morning states the number of foreigners in the Koman 
 service to be 1,650 ; 800 Lombards, 300 Tuscans, 250 
 Poles and French, and 300 miscellaneous in Garibaldi's 
 corps. The national guard is 14,000 strong ; the army, 
 I suppose, 20,000. A bomb, I am thankful to say, has 
 left its mark on the facade of the Gesii. I wish it had 
 stirred up old Ignatius. Farewell. A. H. C. 
 
 Le Citoyen, malgre lui. 
 
 To M, Arnold, Esq. 
 
 Rome: June 23, 1849. 
 
 I advertise you that I hope to be in the Geneva country in 
 
 August, reposing in the bosom of nature from the fatigues 
 
 of art and the turmoil of war ! ! ! Quid Roma3 faciam ? 
 
 What's politics to he, or he to politics ? But it is impos-
 
 1849.] AETIIUR HUGH CLOUGH. 137 
 
 sible to get out, and if one did, Free])orn, Vice-consul, 
 who however is a Caccone, says the French avan-posti shoot 
 at one. 
 
 July 3. 
 
 Well, we are taken ; the battery immediately to the 
 left (as you go out) of St. Pancrazio was carried by 
 assault on the night of the 29th or morning of the 30th, 
 while we in this corner got bombarded by way of feint. 
 The Eoman line in several cases has behaved ill, and 
 certainly gave way here rather early ; afterwards, however, 
 under Garibaldi's command, it seems to have fought well, 
 at least two regiments, who are now off with him and his 
 free corps to the Abruzzi. 
 
 On Saturday morning (30th June) the Assembly resolved 
 to give in ; Mazzini & Co. resigned ; and a deputation 
 went off to Oudinot. Sunday was perfectly tranquil ; 
 yesterday evening Garibaldi withdrew his troops from the 
 Trastevere, and went off by the S. Giovanni. To-day 
 they say the French will enter. Altogether, I incline to 
 think the Eoman population has shown a good deal of 
 'apathy;' they did not care about the bombs much, but 
 they did not care to fight ve7'y hard either. The Lombards 
 are fine fellows, and, the Bolognese too; the only pity 
 there were not more of them. If you put the whole lot 
 of them together, Poles, Lombards, Tuscans, French, they 
 would not exceed 3,000. On the whole, the French were 
 not very barbarous, but if we had not yielded, I believe 
 they meant to bombard us really ; and as it was, their shells 
 might have done irreparable harm. 
 
 At noon to-day, the Assembly proclaims the Constitu- 
 tion ! which it had just completed. 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, Esq. 
 
 Eome: July 4, 1849. 
 If you should happen to read in the ' Constitutionnel' that 
 'on Tuesday, July 3rd, our army entered Rome amidst the
 
 138 LETTEKS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 acclamations of the people,'' perhaps you will not be the 
 worse for a commentary on the text. 
 
 On Monday evening Garibaldi, with all the free corps 
 except some Lombards under Medici, and with a good 
 many Eoman troops in addition, set off for the Abruzzi. 
 At Tuesday at noon the Assembly proclaimed the Consti- 
 tution on the Campidoglio. I went there and heard it. 
 There were present perhaps 800 or 900 people. This done, 
 I presume the deputies dispersed, the labours of the Con- 
 stituent being clearly completed. The French had already 
 begun their entry, and occupied the Ponte Sisto, and, I 
 believe, the Trinita dei Monti. About half-past four I 
 went out, and presently saw a detachment coming up from 
 the Palazzo Borghese to the Condotti. I stood in the 
 Corso with some thirty of the people, and saw them pass. 
 Fine working soldiers indeed, dogged and business-like ; 
 but they looked a little awkward, while the people screamed 
 and hooted, and cried ' Viva la Reppublica Romana.' When 
 they had got past, some young simpleton sent a tin pail 
 after them ; four or five faced round with bayonets pre- 
 sented, while my young friend cut awa}'' up the Corso 
 double quick. They went on. At this moment some 
 Roman bourgeois as I fancy, but perhaps a foreigner, said 
 something either to express his sense of the folly of it, or 
 his sympathy with the invaders. He was surrounded, and 
 I saw him buffetted a good deal, and there was a sword 
 lifted up, but I think not bare ; I was told he got oft". 
 But a priest who walked and talked publicly in the Piazza 
 Colonna with a Frenchman was undoubtedly killed. I know 
 his friends, and saw one of them last nigbt. Poor man, 
 he was quite a liberal ecclesiastic, they tell me, but certainly 
 not a prudent one. 
 
 To return to my own experience. After this the 
 column passed back by another street into the Corso, 
 and dispersed the crowd with the bayonet-point; they 
 then went on and occupied, I take it, the Post-office,
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 139 
 
 which I afterwards found full of them. About six o'clock 
 I walked out aoain, and found the Monte Cavallo, the 
 Palazzo Earberini, and other places occupied. I thus missed 
 the entry of Oudinot and his staff. I got back only just 
 to see the final dragoons ; but an English acquaintance 
 informed me that in passing by the Cafe Nuovo, where an 
 Italian tricolor hung from the window, Oudinot plucked 
 at it, and bid it be removed. The French proceeded to do 
 this, but the Komans intervened ; Cemuschi, the barricade 
 commissioner, took it down, kissed it, and, as I myself saw, 
 carried it in triumph amidst cheers to the Piazza Colonna. 
 I did not follow, but on my bolder friend's authority I can 
 state that here the French moved up with their bayonets 
 and took it from Cemuschi, stripping him moreover of his 
 tricolor scarf. One hears reports of as many as eight 
 Ivomans being killed for fraternising with the Gaul, and of 
 some of the French themselves having been assassinated. 
 My friend told me two shots were fired from a cafe in the 
 Corso when the troops pai^sed that way at half-past four. 
 This morniniJf I have been to the field of battle and looked 
 at the trenches. I condescended to speak with two French- 
 men, consoling myself by an occasional attempt at sarcasm. 
 They said the Komans did nothing at all when the batteries 
 were assaulted : but the artillery had been well directed. 
 You see lots of villas, six or seven at least, in ruins ; 
 S. Pietro in Montorio is in a sad state ; balls have come in 
 and knocked great holes, and the east end is nearly in ruins, 
 but the paintings are most, if not all, quite safe : those of 
 Sebastian del Piombo certainly, and Bramante's chapel is 
 wholly untouched. My French officer said the troops were 
 about 25,000. Almost all are in the city. The Roman 
 forces are to withdraw immediately into cantonments 
 assigned by Oudinot, and guaranteed against the Austrians. 
 The national guard will be disarmed, and then all will be 
 considered safe. On the whole, the French soldiers seemed 
 to me to show excellent temper. At the same time, some
 
 140 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 faces I have seen are far more brutal than the worst 
 Garibaldian ; and we have hitherto seen nothing so un- 
 pleasing in the female kind as the vivandiere. The Graul 
 is certainly the stronger animal, but assuredly the greater 
 beast. 
 
 The American banker tells me he was told that in the 
 morning the French were cheered. I rather doubt it ; but 
 I believe the bourgeoisie in part are very glad it is over. 
 Naturally, for there was to have been a regular bombard- 
 ment ; so said my French friend. They had got a large 
 supply ready, just come from France. The priest is not 
 dead, and perhaps will survive ; but another I hear was 
 hewed in pieces for shouting 'Viva Pio Nono,' 'Abasso 
 la Eeppublica,' &c. Oudinot's proclamation is expected 
 every moment. They say it will declare a state of siege ; 
 name a military governor and commander of the garrison ; 
 dissolve the national guard and the Assembly, and soforth. 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, Esq. 
 
 Rome : July 6, 1849. 
 
 Medium of all desirable communication with my 
 brethren at home ! you shall receive one more despatch. 
 I think of going off to Albano, or some of these places, 
 which now one supposes will be attainable. Tivoli, they 
 say, is dubious. Garibaldi went off that way, and the 
 French have sent a detachment after him, with orders, one 
 is told, to give no quarter. 
 
 It is a sight to make one gnash one's very wisdom teeth 
 to so about the fallen Jerusalem and behold the abomina- 
 tion of desolations standing where "it ought not ; not that 
 the French misbehave, so far as I see, individually. They 
 appear to me to display considerable temper. Still one is 
 told that they carried off a lot of lemons, &c., the first night 
 without paying for them. One soldier, they say, was 
 stabbed by a Trasteverine woman at the Ponte Sisto for 
 insidting her. Any way, one sees how ' riling ' it is to be 
 conquered.
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. ' 141 
 
 I am greatly rejoiced meantime that they have been 
 obliged to proclaim the state of siege. They make 
 much of the adhesion of the army. I don't exactly know- 
 how far it has been given. Two regiments went off with 
 Garibaldi, and one heard divers stories. However, with 
 the alternative of dissolution and beggary, it is no marvel 
 that the Eoman line, not a popular body, should consent 
 to give its service to any de-facto government. 
 
 Last night, for the first time, * by order,' we were all 
 driven in at half-past nine. I found a bayonet point within 
 a few inches of me as I came along the Corso, while the 
 battalion was clearing it. 
 
 Has the ' Times ' correspondent told the funny way in 
 which they have shown their spite b}^ daubing out all the 
 French sign-boards ? 
 
 The natives do not universally quit the cafes when the 
 French come in ; at the Bon Gout in the Piazza di Spagna 
 they appear to be treated with polite indifference ; in the 
 Cafe Nuovo, such unmistakeable disgust was evinced that 
 considering also its size and importance, for you know it is 
 a whole palace, and the great place of resort, they have 
 seen fit to shut it up and fill it with soldiers. Elsewhere 
 the enemies feed together, but with a pale very distinctly 
 marked between them. 
 
 Mazzini was still here yesterday. Galetti, president of 
 the Assembly, and commander of the Carbineers, was taken 
 under American protection (as I hear) ; otherwise he would 
 have been arrested ; but the political arrests have been 
 limited to some half-dozen agitators. Ciceruacchio got oflf 
 with an American passport. You know the Assembly sat 
 on the day after the French entree ; Mazzini was present. 
 They passed some three or four decrees, and put them up 
 in the streets. Oudinot's proclamation dissolving the old 
 government came out an hour or two after. 
 
 I told you that Garibaldi lost his negro on the 3rd. ' II 
 Moro,' as they called him, was the son of a rich negro
 
 142 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. TX. 
 
 merchant at Monte Video, who, though married and father 
 of a family, yet, for the love of the Italian captain, came over 
 to fight by his side, which they say he never quitted. I 
 have seen each separately, but not together. There is a 
 Mrs. Graribaldi ; she went out with him to the Abruzzi. 
 I hope the French won't cut them to pieces, but vice versa. 
 
 July 7. 
 
 Last night I had the pleasure of abandoning a cafe on 
 the enti'ance of the French. The Italians expect you to 
 do so. It was quite composedly done ; no bravado or hurry. 
 
 Mazzini, on the 30th, after the capture of the bastion, 
 proposed to the Assembly that it, with the army, should 
 quit Eome, carry off the artillery, and occupy some strong- 
 hold. But the Assembly at first would not ; and after, 
 when it would, could not. The course actually taken was 
 repugnant to Mazzini's views, who was anxious to save 
 Eome from destruction, but at the same time to hold out 
 somewhere and somehow to the last. 
 
 The Chigi chapel, in Sta. Maria del Popolo, is a remark- 
 able case. Eaphael's Jonah is untouched, but the statue 
 next it has been chipped in two places by a ball. Nothing 
 else is hurt. 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, Esq. 
 
 Rome: July 13, 1849. 
 
 We are all in admiration here of M. de Corcelles' state- 
 ment, that during the twenty-six days that elapsed of the 
 siege, not one bomb had been thrown into the city. I dare- 
 say a large proportion of what were thrown were grenades, 
 but that there were bombs in the strictest sense, is un- 
 doubted. A military friend whom I can trust has seen 
 one, and I think I myself have. Moreover, the grenades 
 were large. And I presume M. de Corcelles will prefer 
 saying plainly that he was misinformed, to the alternative 
 of professing not to have meant to deny grenades. On the 
 night of the 22nd, 150 missives of the bomb or the grenade
 
 1849.] . ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 14:1 
 
 species are said to have been thrown into the town; 130 
 were counted by an acquaintance of mine, a Roman ; at 
 the rate they were being plied while I was looking on my- 
 self, I cannot doubt some ligure like this must be correct. 
 
 On the night of the 29th, a French officer told an 
 English gentleman the detachment in the Borghese 
 grounds was ordered to fire 120 shots into the Piazza di 
 Spagna quarter, as a feint ; they had no particular aim, but 
 seeing a light in a high window, they took it for their mark, 
 and — hiuc illae lachrymee — hence those balls and bombs, 
 or, I beg pardon, grenades perhaps, which frightened us 
 out of our propriety into the prime piano. 
 
 Mazzini, through the negotiation of Mr. Cass, the 
 American Charge d'affaires, received a passport in his own 
 name from the French, and went off via Civita Vecchia, 
 with a bearer of despatches from the same JMr. Cass, I 
 think, on Tuesday last, the 10th. He would go into 
 Switzerland. This is quite positive. 
 
 On Monday I was at Albano. The French, seventy horse, 
 came in that afternoon at four. The Spaniards meantime 
 had just the previous night occupied Grenzano, three miles 
 off. One hears that the French have turned them out of it. 
 
 Two newspapers appear in Rome besides the official 
 gazette, called the ' Giornale di Roma;' one of these, 
 the ' Costituzionale,' belongs to the 'prete interest ; the 
 other, ' La Speranza dell' Epoca,' to Mamiani and coterie. 
 They are under a military censure, but liberally exercised ; 
 a new appointment was freely commented on in malam 
 partem yesterday by this latter print. 
 
 The Principessa di Belgiojoso is still here, looking after 
 her feriti at the Monte Cavallo, who, as I think by Mr, 
 Cass's intercession, are allowed to remain there ; at first, 
 orders were given that they should be removed within a 
 week. Garibaldi is said to have effected a jimction at 
 Terni with Forbes, an Englishman holding rank here of 
 colonel I think, and commanding a small detachment.
 
 144 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 Add to the list of fortunate escapes, that a ball struck 
 the facade of the Palazzo Sciarra on the terzo piano. On 
 the secondo in front is the gallery, whose ample windows 
 give light to the famous Modestia e Vanita of Leonardo 
 da Vinci, the Violin Player of Kaphael, Titian's Bella 
 Donna, and others, most of which, however, had been put 
 into the passage for safety. 
 
 Freeborn, the Consul, has got one bomb in his bank. 
 Do you know the difference between the two things, bomb 
 and grenade? bomb has two handles, and grenade is a 
 hollow ball with a hole in it ; that is all I know. Grenades, 
 they say, burst in the air ; otherwise they are as big as 
 bombs, and by no means innocent things. 
 
 July 14. 
 
 Griving the French and the * Times ' credit for some 
 degree of truth-telling, the simple truth would appear 
 to be, that we have been grenaded, not bombarded. It 
 is possible that the cannon and mortars were pointed 
 merely to the breach, and that the bombs and balls that 
 came in were merely bad shots. But the obus (singular 
 or plural) must certainly have been pointed against the 
 very heart of the city, the Pantheon and Capitol ; and a 
 discharge of 150 or more grenades in a single night is, 
 
 if not a bombardment, still . My authority about 
 
 Mazzini's movements is Miss Fuller, an American, who 
 was in immediate communication with Mazzini and Mr. 
 Cass, and who was a party to the negotiation. She is now 
 gone to Eieti. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Geneva : August 7. 
 
 I shall go and see Mont Blanc, among other duties (for 
 I am finishing my education before coming to town), 
 and move homeward by the Ehine. I saw the French 
 enter Rome, and then went to Naples, which I greatly 
 enjoyed. Thence direct by Genoa and Turin to this place, 
 and from here by Interlaken home. I am full of adnii-
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 145 
 
 ration of Mazzini. But, on the whole, ' Farewell, politics, 
 utterly ! What can I do ? ' Study is much more to the 
 purpose. 
 
 This is a dull sky-and-water atmosphere, after the blue 
 sweaters of the South ; and the English locust of course 
 prevails in it. 
 
 As appears in the last letter, A. H. Clough went after the 
 conclusion of the siege of Rome to Naples. While there 
 he wrote a poem called ' Easter Day,' which is given here ; 
 a semi-dramatic expression of the contrast he felt between 
 the complete practical irreligion and wickedness of the 
 life he saw going on, and the outward forms and cere- 
 monies of religion displaying themselves at every turn. 
 How can we believe, it seems to say, that ' Christ is 
 risen' in such a world as this? how, if it was so, could 
 such sin and such misery continue until now ? Yet, if we 
 must give up this faith, what sadness and what bitterness 
 of disappointment remain for all believers who thus lose 
 all that is most dear to them. And he abandons himself 
 to this feeling of grief and hopelessness, only still vaguely 
 clinging to the belief that in earth itself there may be, 
 if nowhere else, a new refuge and a new answer to this 
 sad riddle. The mood of rami, which he depicts in such 
 terrible colours is not to be regarded as his own habitual 
 belief. The poem is in no sense a statement of facts or 
 opinions, but a strong expression of feeling — above all, 
 the feelinof of the greatness of the evil which is in the 
 world. 
 
 A poem follows, called * Dipsychus,' whicli, although 
 written a year later, it has been found convenient to plact.^ 
 in immediate connection with the preceding. In the 
 autumn vacation of 1850, A. H. Clough made a journey to 
 Venice, and this poem, written then or soon after, shows 
 the mark of Venice in all its framework and its local 
 
 L
 
 146 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. IX. 
 
 colouring. Though too unfinished to be published among 
 his poems, it is thought that it will be interesting here, as 
 being a record of many of his thoughts and feelings at this 
 period, and also because it contains many of the shorter 
 poems published before separately, the spirit of which may 
 be better appreciated when' they are read with their 
 original context. 
 
 Two other shorter poems or fragments are added. The 
 first is a sketch for a continuation of ' Dipsychus,' written 
 much later, though the exact date is not known. This, it 
 will be seen, is in no sense a second part ; it only shows 
 how the thoughts which appear in * Dipsychus ' continued 
 to work in his mind, and how, while feeling strongly both 
 the necessity for practical life, and the almost necessary 
 loss of ideal purity caused by contact with the world, he 
 yet always retained confidence in the higher aspiration 
 surviving in any honest mind, and in the value of honest 
 work. There is, perhaps, also greater dramatic capacity 
 manifested in it than in his other writings. 
 
 The second short poem is distinctly a second part to 
 the ' Easter Day ; ' but it is not written under the same 
 feeling as the first part ; it is rather a reaction from it, 
 and it was, perhaps, not written at the same time. 
 Like the first part, it gives no distinct statement of views ; 
 but it shows that whatever his mood, and whatever his 
 intellectual perplexities, the faith in Grod and in good, 
 and the sense of the divine character of Christ, survived.
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUOTI. 147 
 
 EASTER DAY. 
 
 NAPLES, 1849. 
 
 Through the great sinful streets of Naples as I past, 
 With fiercer heat than flamed above my head 
 
 My heart was hot within me ; till at last 
 
 My brain was lightened when my tongue had said — 
 Christ is not risen ! 
 
 Christ is not risen, no, — 
 
 He lies and moulders low ; 
 Christ is not risen ! 
 
 What though the stone were rolled away, and though 
 
 The grave found empty there ? — 
 
 If not there, then elsewhere ; 
 If not where Joseph laid him first, why then 
 
 Where other men 
 Translaid him after, in some humbler clay. 
 
 Long ere to-day 
 Corruption that sad perfect work hath done. 
 Which here she scarcely, lightly had begun : 
 
 The foul engendered worm 
 Feeds on the flesh of the life-giving form 
 Of our most Holy and Anointed One. 
 
 He is not risen, no — 
 
 He lies and moulders low ; 
 Christ is not risen ! 
 
 Wliat if the Avomen, ere the dawn was grey, 
 Saw one or more great angels, as they say 
 (Angels, or Him himself) ? Yet neither there, nor then. 
 Nor afterwards, nor elsewhere, nor at all, 
 Hath He appeared to Peter or the Ten ; 
 Nor, save in thunderous terror, to blind Saul ; 
 Save in an after Gospel and late Creed, 
 He is not risen, indeed, — 
 Christ is not risen ! 
 l2
 
 148 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1849. 
 
 Or, what if e'en, as runs a tale, the Ten 
 
 Saw, heard, and touched, again, and yet again ? 
 
 What if at Emmaiis inn, and by Capemavim's Lake, 
 
 Came One, the bread that brake — 
 Came One that spake as never mortal spake. 
 And with them ate, and drank, and stood, and walked about ? 
 
 Ah ! ' some ' did well to ' doubt ! ' 
 Ah I the true Christ, while these things came to pass, 
 Nor heard, nor spake, nor Avalked, nor lived, alas ! 
 
 He was not risen, no — 
 
 He lay and mouldered low, 
 Christ Avas not risen ! 
 
 As circulates in some great city crowd, 
 A rumour changeful, vague, importunate, and loud, 
 From no determined centre, or of fact 
 Or authorship exact. 
 Which no man can deny 
 
 Nor verify ; 
 So spread the wondrous fame ; 
 
 He all the same 
 Lay senseless, mouldering, low : 
 He was not risen, no — 
 Christ was not risen ! 
 
 Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; 
 As of the ujDJust, also of the just — 
 Yea, of That Just One, too ! 
 This is the one sad Gospel that is true — 
 Christ is not risen ! 
 
 Is Pie not risen, and shall we not rise ? 
 
 Oh, we unwise ! 
 What did we dream, what wake we to discover ? 
 Ye hills, fall on us, and ye mountains, cover ! 
 
 In darkness and great gloom 
 Come ere we thought it is our day of doom ; 
 From the cursed world, Avhich is one tomb, 
 Christ is not risen !
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 149 
 
 Eat, drink, and play, and think that this is bliss : 
 There is no heaven but this ; 
 
 There is no hell, 
 Save earth, Avhich serves the purpose doubly Avell, 
 
 Seeing it visits still 
 With equalest apportionments of ill 
 Both good and bad alike, and brings to one same dust 
 
 The unjust and the just 
 
 With Christ, who is not risen. 
 
 Eat, drink, and die, for we are souls bereaved : 
 Of all the creatm-es under heaven's wide cope 
 We are most hopeless, who had once most hope. 
 And most beliefless, that had most believed. 
 Ashes to ashes, dust to dust ; 
 As of the imjust, also of the just — 
 Yea, of that Just One too ! 
 It is the one sad Gospel that is true — 
 Christ is not risen ! 
 
 Weep not beside the tomb, 
 
 Ye women, unto whom 
 He was great solace while ye tended Ilim ; 
 
 Ye Avho with napkin o'er the head 
 And folds of linen round each wounded limb 
 
 Laid out the Sacred Dead ; 
 And thou that bar'st Him in thy wondering wumb ; 
 Yea, Daughters of Jerusalem, depart. 
 Bind up as best ye may yoiu* own sad bleeding heart : 
 Go to yovu* homes, your living children tend, 
 
 Your earthly spouses love ; 
 
 Set your affections not on things above. 
 Which moth and rust coiTupt, which quickliest come to end : 
 Or pray, if pray ye must, and pray, if pray ye can, 
 For death ; since dead is He whom ye deemed more than man, 
 
 Wlio is not risen : no, — 
 
 But lies and moulders low, — 
 AVho is not risen !
 
 150 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [1849. 
 
 Ye men of Galilee ! 
 Why stand ye looking up to heaven, where Him ye ne'er 
 
 may see, 
 Neither ascending hence, nor returning hither again ? 
 
 Ye ignorant and idle fishermen ! 
 Hence to your huts, and boats, and inland native shore, 
 
 And catch not men, but fish ; 
 
 Whate'er things ye might wish, 
 Him neither here nor there ye e'er shall meet with more. 
 
 Ye poor deluded youths, go home. 
 
 Mend the old nets ye left to roam, 
 
 Tie the split oar, patch the torn sail : 
 
 It was indeed an ' idle tale,' — 
 He was not risen ! 
 
 And, oh, good men of ages yet to be. 
 Who shall believe because ye did not see — 
 
 Oh, be ye warned, be wise ! 
 
 No more with pleading eyes. 
 
 And sobs of strong desire. 
 
 Unto the empty vacant void aspire. 
 Seeking another and impossible birth 
 That is not of your own, and only mother earth. 
 But if there is no other life for you, 
 Sit down and be content, since this must even do : 
 ^ He is not risen ! 
 
 One look, and then depart, 
 
 Ye humble and ye holy men of heart ; 
 And ye ! ye ministers and stewards of a Word 
 Which ye would preach, because another heard, — 
 
 Ye worshippers of that ye do not know, 
 
 Take these things hence and go : — 
 He is not risen ! 
 
 Here, on our Easter Day 
 We rise, we come, and lo ! we find Him not, 
 Gardener nor other, on the sacred spot : 
 Where they have laid Him there is none to say ; 
 No sound, nor in, nor out — no word 
 Of where to seek the dead or meet the living Lord.
 
 1S49.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 151 
 
 There is no glistering of an angel's wings, 
 
 There is no voice of heavenly clear behest : 
 Let us go hence, and think upon these things 
 In silence, which is best. 
 Is lie not risen ? No — 
 But lies and moulders low ? 
 Christ is not I'isen ?
 
 152 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 PROLOGUE TO DIPSYCHUS. 
 
 ' I HOPE it is in good plain verse,' said my iincle, — ' none of yoiir 
 hurry-scurry anapaests, as you call them, in lines which sober 
 people read for plain heroics. Nothing is more disagreeable than 
 to say a line over two, or, it may be, three or four times, and at 
 last not be siu-e that there are not three or four ways of reading, 
 each as good and as much intended as another. Simplex 
 duntaxat et unum. But you young people think Horace and 
 your uncles old fools.' 
 
 ' Certainly, my dear sir,' said I ; 'that is, I mean, Horace and my 
 uncle are perfectly right. Still, there is an instructed ear and an 
 uninstructed. A rude taste for identical recurrences would exact 
 sing-song from " Paradise Lost," and grumble because " II Pense- 
 roso" doesn't run like a nursery rhyme.' 'Well, well,' said my 
 uncle, ^sunt certi denique fines, no doubt. So commence, my young 
 Piso, while Aristarchus is tolerably wakeful, and do not waste by 
 yom* logic the fiind you will want for your poetry.'
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIf. 153 
 
 DIPSYCHUS. 
 PART I. 
 
 Scene I. — The Piazza at Venice, 9 p.m. — Dijysychus and the Spirit. 
 
 Di. The scene is different, and the place, the air 
 Tastes of tlie nearer north ; the people 
 Not perfect southern lightness ; wherefore, then, 
 Should those old verses come into my mind 
 I made last year at Naples ? Oh, poor fool ! 
 Still resting on thyself — a thing ill-worked — 
 A moment's thought committed on the moment 
 To unripe words and rugged verse : — 
 
 ^ Through the great sinful streets of Naples as I past, 
 ' With fiercer heat than flamed above my head 
 
 ' My heart was hot within me ; till at last 
 
 'My brain was lightened when my tongue had said — 
 ' Christ is not risen ! ' 
 
 Sp. Christ is not risen ? Oh, indeed, 
 I didn't know that was your creed. 
 
 Di. So it Avent on, too lengthy to repeat — 
 ' Christ is not risen.' 
 
 Sp. Dear, how odd ! 
 
 He'll tell us next there is no God. 
 I thought 'twas in the Bible plain. 
 On the third day He rose again. 
 
 Di. 'Ashes to ashes, dust to dust; 
 'As of the unjust, also of the just — 
 ' Yea, of That Just One, too ! 
 ' Is He not risen, and shall we not rise ? 
 'Oh, we unwise ! ' 
 
 Sp. H'm ! and the tone, then, after all, 
 Something of the ironical ? 
 Sarcastic,, sjiy ; or Avere it fitter 
 To style it the religious bitter ?
 
 154 • LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Di. Interpret it I cannot. I but wrote it — 
 At Naples, truly, as the preface tells, 
 Last year, in the Toledo ; it came on me. 
 And did me good, at once. At Naples then, 
 At Venice now. All ! and I think at Venice 
 Christ is not risen either. 
 
 Sp. Nay, 
 
 Such things don't fall out every day : 
 Having once happened, as we know. 
 In Palestine so long ago. 
 How should it now at Venice here ? 
 Where people, true enough, appear 
 To appreciate more and understand 
 Their ices, and their Austrian band, 
 And dark-eyed girls. 
 
 Di. The whole great Square they fill, 
 
 From the red flaunting streamers on the staffs, 
 And that barbaric portal of St. Mark's, 
 To where, imnoticed, at the darker end, 
 I sit upon my step — one great gay crowd. 
 The Campanile to the silent stars 
 Goes up, above — its apex lost in air — 
 While these do what ? 
 
 Sp. Enjoy the minute, 
 
 And the substantial blessings in it : 
 Ices, par exemple ; evening air, 
 Company, and this handsome square ; 
 And all the sweets in perfect plenty 
 Of the old clolee far niente. 
 Music ! Up, up ; it isn't fit 
 With beggars here on steps to sit. 
 Up, to the cafe ! take a chair, 
 And join the wiser idlers there. 
 And see that fellow singing yonder ; 
 Singing, ye gods, and dancing too — 
 Tooraloo, tooraloo, tooraloo loo — 
 Fiddledi diddlcdi, diddle di di ; 
 Figaro sh, Fiyaro giii — 
 Fitjaro qua., Figaro Ui ! — 
 How he likes doing it — Ha, ha !
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 155 
 
 Di. While these do what ? Ah heaven ! too true, at 
 Venice 
 Christ is not risen either. 
 
 Scene II. — The Public Garden. 
 
 Di. Assuredly, a lively scene ! 
 And, ah, how pleasant something green ! 
 With circling heavens one perfect rose 
 Each smoother patch of water glows. 
 Hence to where, o'er the full tide's face, 
 We see the Palace and the Place, 
 And the white dome ; beauteous, but hot. 
 Where in the meantime is the spot — 
 My favourite — where by masses blue, 
 And white cloud-folds, I follow true 
 The great Alps, rounding grandly o'er. 
 Huge arc, to the Dalmatian shore ? 
 
 S}'). This rather stupid place, to-day. 
 It 's true, is most extremely gay ; 
 And rightly — the Asstmzione 
 Was always a gran^ funzione. 
 
 Di. What is this persecuting voice that haunts me ? 
 What ? whence ? of whom ? How am I to detect ? 
 Myself or not myself? My own bad thoughts, 
 Or some external agency at work, 
 To lead me Avho knows whither ? 
 
 Sp. Eh ? 
 
 We 're certainly in luck to-day : 
 What crowds of boats before us plying — 
 Gay parties, singing, shouting, crying — 
 Saluting others past them flying ! 
 What numbers at the causeway lying ! 
 What lots of pretty girls, too, hieing 
 Hither and thither — coming, going, 
 And with what satisfaction showing 
 Their dark exiiberance of hair, 
 Black eyes, rich tints, and sundry graces 
 Of classic pure Italian faces !
 
 156 LETTEKS AND KEMAINS OP [l850. 
 
 DL Ah me, me ! 
 
 Clear stars above, thou roseate westward sky, 
 Take up my being into yours ; assume 
 My sense to know you only ; steep my brain 
 In your essential purity ; or, great Al^s, 
 That wrapping roimd your heads in solemn clouds 
 Seem sternly to sweep past our vanities. 
 Lead me with you — take me away, preserve me ! 
 
 Di. O moon and stars, forgive ! and thou, clear heaven, 
 Look pureness back into me. Oh, great God ! 
 Why, why, in wisdom and in grace's name, 
 And in the name of saints and saintly thoughts, 
 Of mothers, and of sisters, and chaste wives, 
 And anorel woman-faces we have seen, 
 And angel woman-spirits we have guessed. 
 And innocent sweet children, and piu-e love. 
 Why did I ever one brief moment's space 
 But parley with this filthy Belial ? 
 
 Was it the fear 
 
 Of being behind the world, which is the wicked ? 
 
 ScENK I^. — At the Hotel. 
 
 Sp. Come, then, * 
 
 And with my aid go into good society. 
 Life little loves, 'tis true, this peevish piety ; 
 E'en they with whom it thinks to be seciirest — 
 Your most religious, delicatest, purest — 
 Discern, and show as pious people can 
 Their feeling that you are not quite a man. 
 Still the thing has its place ; and with sagacity 
 Much might be done by one of yoiu* capacity. 
 A virtuous attachment formed judiciously 
 Would come, one sees, uncommonly propitiously : 
 Turn you but your affections the right way. 
 And what mayn't happen none of us can say ; 
 For, in despite of devils and of mothers, 
 Your good young men make catches, too, like others.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 157 
 
 Di. To herd with people that one owns no care for ; 
 Friend it with strangers that one sees but once ; 
 To drain the heart with endless complaisance ; 
 To warp the unfinished diction on the lip, 
 And twist one's inouth to counterfeit ; enforce 
 Reluctant looks to falsehood ; base- alloy 
 The ingenuous golden frankness of the past ; 
 To calculate and plot ; be rough and smooth, 
 Forward and silent, deferential, cool, 
 Not by one's humour, which is the safe truth, 
 But on consideration. 
 
 Sp. That is, act 
 
 On a dispassionate judgment of the fact ; 
 Look all the data fairly in the face, 
 And rule your judgment simply by the case. 
 
 Di. On vile consideration. At the best. 
 With pallid hotbed courtesies to forestall 
 The green and vernal spontaneity, 
 And waste the priceless moments of the man 
 In regulating manner. Whether these things 
 Be right, I do not know : I only know 'tis 
 To lose one's youth too early. Oh, not yet — 
 Not yet I make the sacrifice. 
 
 Sp. Du tout ! 
 
 To give up nature 's just what Avould not do. 
 By all means keep your sweet ingenuous graces, 
 And use them at the proper times and places. 
 For work, for play, for business, talk, and love, 
 I own as wisdom truly from above, 
 That scripture of the serpent and the dove ; 
 Nor 's aught so perfect for the world's affairs 
 As the old parable of wheat and tares ; 
 What we all love is good touched up with evil — 
 Religion's self must have a spice of devil. 
 
 Di. Let it be enough. 
 
 That in our needful mixture Avith the Avorld, 
 On each new morning with the rising sun.
 
 158 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Our rising heart, fresh from the seas of sleep, 
 Scarce o'er the level lifts his purer orb 
 Ere lost and sullied with polluting smoke — 
 A noon-day coppery disk. Lo, scarce come forth, 
 Some vagrant miscreant meets, and with a look 
 Transmutes me his, and for a whole sick day 
 Lepers me. 
 
 Sp. Just the one thing, I assure you, 
 
 From which good company can 't but secure you. 
 About the individual 's not so clear, 
 But who can doubt the general atmosphere ? 
 
 Di. Ay, truly, who at first ? but in a while — 
 
 Sp. O dear, this o'er-discernment makes me smile. 
 You don't pretend to tell me you can see 
 Without one touch of melting sympathy 
 Those lovely, stately flowers that fill with bloom 
 The brilliant season's gay parterre-like room. 
 Moving serene yet swiftly through the dances, 
 Those graceftil forms and perfect countenances. 
 Whose every fold and line in all their dresses 
 Something refined and exquisite expresses. 
 To see them smile and hear them talk so sweetly. 
 In me destroys all lower thoughts completely ; 
 I really seem, without exaggeration, 
 To experience the true regeneration. 
 One's own dress, too — one's toanner, what one 's doing 
 And saying, all assist to one's renewing. 
 I love to see, in these theii* fitting places. 
 The bows, and forms, and all you call grimaces. 
 I heartily could wish we 'd kept some more of them, 
 However much we talk about the bore of them. 
 Fact is, your awkward parvenu.s are shy at it, 
 Afraid to look like waiters if they try at it. 
 'Tis sad to what democracy is leading — 
 Give me your Eighteenth Century for high breeding. 
 Though T can put up gladly Avith the present, 
 And quite can think our modern jDarties pleasant.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 159 
 
 One shouldn't analyse the thmg too nearly : 
 The main effect is admirable clearly. 
 
 * Good manners,' said our good great-aunts, 'next to piety : ' 
 And so, my friend, hurrah for good society ! 
 
 Scene IV. — On the Piazza. 
 
 Sp. Insulted ! By the living Lord ! 
 He laid his hand upon his sword. 
 
 * Fo7't,' did he say ? a German brute, 
 With neither heart nor brains to shoot. 
 
 Di. What does he mean ? he 's wrong, I had done nothing. 
 'Twas a mistake — more his, I am .sure, than mine. 
 He is quite wrong — I feel it. Come, let us go. 
 
 Sp. Go up to him ! — ^you must, that 's flat. 
 Be threatened by a beast like that ! 
 
 DL He 's violent ; what can I do against him ? 
 I neither wish to be killed, or to kill : 
 Wliat's more, I never yet have touched a sword, 
 Nor fired, but twice, a pistol in my life. 
 
 Sp. Oh, never mind, 'twon 't come to fighting — 
 Only some verbal small requiting ; 
 Or give your card — we '11 do't by -writing. 
 He '11 not stick to it. Soldiers too 
 Are cowards, just like me or you. 
 What ! not a single word to throw at 
 This snarling dog of a d — d Croat ? 
 
 ■Di. My heavens ! why should I care? he does not hurt me. 
 If he is wrong, it is the worse for him. 
 I certainly did nothing : I shall go. 
 
 Sp. Did nothing ! I should think not ; no, 
 Nor ever will, I dare be sworn ! 
 But, O my friend, well-bred, well-born — 
 You to behave so in these quarrels 
 Makes me half doiibtful of your morals ! 
 
 It were all one, 
 
 You had been some shopkeeper's son,
 
 160 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 "W hose childhood ne'er Avas shown aught better 
 Than bills of creditor and debtor. 
 
 Di. By heaven, it falls from off me like the rain 
 From the oil-coat. I seem in spirit to see 
 How he and I at some great day shall meet 
 Before some awful judgment-seat of truth ; 
 And I covdd deem that I behold him there 
 Come praying for the pardon I give now, 
 Did I not think these matters too, too small 
 For any record on the leaves of time. 
 O thou great Watcher of this noisy world, 
 What are they in Thy sight ? or what in his 
 Who finds some end of action in his life ? 
 Wliat e'en in his whose sole permitted course 
 Is to pursue his peaceful byway walk, 
 And live his brief life piu-ely in thy sight, 
 And righteously towards his brother-men ? 
 
 Sp. And whether, so you 're just and fair, 
 Other folks are so, you don't care ; 
 You who profess more love than others 
 For yoiir poor sinful human brothers. 
 
 Di. For grosser evils their gross remedies 
 The laws afford us ; let us be content ; 
 For finer wounds the law would, if it could. 
 Find medicine too ; it cannot, let us bear ; 
 For sufferance is the badge of all men's tribes. 
 
 S}^- Because we can't do all we would, 
 Does it follow, to do nothing's good ? 
 No way to help the law's rftugh sense 
 By equities of self-defence ? 
 Well, for yourself it may be nice 
 To serve vulgarity and vice : 
 Must sisters, too, and wives and mothers, 
 Fare like their patient sons and brothers? 
 
 Di. He that loves sister, mother, more than me
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. IGI 
 
 Sp. But the injustice — the gross wrong ! 
 To whom on earth does it belong 
 If not to you, to Avhom 'twas done, 
 Who see it plain as any sun, 
 To make the base and foul offender 
 Confess, and satisfaction render ? 
 At least before the termination of it 
 Prove your own lofty reprobation of it. 
 Though gentleness, I know, was born in you, 
 Surely you have a little scorn in you ! 
 
 Di. Heaven ! to pollute one's fingers to pick up 
 The fallen coin of honour from the dirt — 
 Pure silver though it be, let it rather lie ! 
 To take vip any offence, where 't may be said 
 That temper, vanity — I know not what — 
 Had led me on ! 
 
 To have so much as e'en half felt of one 
 That ever one was angered for oneself ! 
 Beyond suspicion Caesar's wife should be, 
 Beyond suspicion this bright honour shall. 
 Did he say scorn ? I have some scorn, thank God. 
 
 Sp. Certainly. Only if it 's so, 
 Let us leave Italy, and go 
 
 Post haste, to attend — you 're ripe and rank for 't — 
 The great peace-meethig up at Frankfort. 
 Joy to the Croat ! Take our lives, 
 Sweet friends, and please respect our wives ; 
 Joy to the Croat ! Some fine day, 
 He '11 see the error of his Avay, 
 No doubt, and will repent and pray. 
 At any rate he '11 open his eyes. 
 If not before, at the Last Assize. 
 Not, if I rightly understood you, 
 That even then you'd pimish, would you ? 
 Nay, let the hapless soul go free — 
 Mere murder, crime, or robbery. 
 In whate'er station, age, or sex, 
 
 Your sacred spirit scarce can vex : *' 
 
 De minimis non curat lex. 
 
 M
 
 162 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 To the Peace Congress ! ring the bell ! 
 Horses to Frankfort and to • ! 
 
 Di. I am not quite in union with myself 
 On this strange matter. I must needs confess 
 Instinct turns instinct out, and thought 
 Wheels round on thought. To bleed for others' wrongs 
 In vindication of a cause, to draw 
 The sword of the Lord and Gideon — oh, that seems 
 The flower and top of life ! But fight because 
 Some poor misconstruing trifler haps to say 
 I lie, when I do not lie, 
 
 Wliy should I ? Call you this a cause ? I can't. 
 Oh, he is wrong, no doubt ; he misbehaves — 
 But is it worth so much as speaking loud ? 
 And things so merely personal to myself 
 Of all earth's things do least affect myself 
 
 S];). Sweet eloquence ! at next May Meeting 
 How it would tell in the repeating ! 
 I recognise, and kiss the rod — 
 The methodistic ' voice of God ; ' 
 I catch contrite that angel whine. 
 That snuffle human, yet divine. 
 
 Di. It may be I am somewhat of a poltroon ; 
 I never fouglit at school ; whether it be 
 Some native poorness in my spirit's blood. 
 Or that the holy doctrine of our faith 
 In too exclusive fervency possessed 
 My heart with feelings, with ideas my brain. 
 
 Sp. Yes ; you would argue that it goes 
 Against the Bible, I suppose ; 
 But our revered religion — yes, 
 Our common faith — seems, I confess, 
 On these points to propose to address 
 ^ The people more than you or me — 
 At best the vulgar bourgeoisie.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUOH. !(;:{ 
 
 Tlie sacred writers don't keep coiint, 
 But still the Sermon on the Mount 
 Must have been spoken, by what's stated, 
 To hearers hy the thousands rated. 
 I cufF some fellow ; mild and meek 
 He shoiUd turn round the other cheek. 
 For him it may be right and good ; 
 We are not all of gentle blood 
 Really, or as such understood. 
 
 Dt. There are two kindreds upon earth, 1 know — 
 The oppressors and the oppressed. But as for me, 
 If I must choose to inflict wrong, or accept. 
 May my last end, and life too, be with these. 
 Yes ; Avhatsoe'er the reason, want of blood, 
 Lymphatic humours, or my childlaood's faith. 
 So is the thing, and be it well or ill, 
 I have no choice. I am a man of peace. 
 And the old Adam of the gentleman 
 Dares seldom in my bosom stir against 
 The mild plebeian Christian seated there. 
 
 Sp. Forgive me, if I name my doubt, 
 Whether you know \fort' means 'get out.' 
 
 Scene Y.- The Lido. 
 
 Sp. What now ? the Lido shall it be? 
 That none may say Ave didn't .see 
 The ground which Byron i^sed to ride on, 
 And do I don't know Avhat beside on. 
 Ho, barca ! here ! and this light gale 
 Will let us run it with a sail. 
 
 Di. I dreamt a dream : till morning light 
 A bell rang in ray head all night, 
 Tinkling and tinkling first, and then 
 Tolling and tinkling, tolling again. 
 So brisk and gay, and then so slow ! 
 O joy and tornu" ! mirth and woe \ 
 
 M 2
 
 164 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Tingling, There is no God ; ting, ting, — 
 Dong, there is no God; dong. 
 There is no God ; dong, dong. 
 
 Ting, ting, there is no God ; ting, ting. 
 Come, dance and play, and merrily sing, 
 Staid Englishman, who toil and slave 
 From yoiir first childhood to your grave, 
 And seldom spend and always save — 
 And do your duty all your life 
 By your young family and Avife ; 
 Come, be 't not said you ne'er had known 
 What earth can furnish you alone. 
 The Italian, Frenchman, German even. 
 Have given up all thoughts of heaven : 
 And you still linger — oh, you fool ! — 
 Because of what you learnt at school. 
 You should have gone at least to college, 
 And got a little ampler knowledge. 
 A.h well, and yet — dong, dong, dong : 
 Do as you like, as now you do ; 
 If work 's a cheat, so 's pleasure too. 
 And nothing 's new and nothing 's true ; 
 Dong, there is no God ; dong. 
 
 O, in our nook unknown, unseen, 
 
 We '11 hold our fancy like a screen 
 
 Us and the dreadful fact between ; 
 
 And it shall yet be long — ay, long — 
 
 The quiet notes of our low song 
 
 Shall keep us from that sad dong, dong. — 
 
 Hark, hark, hark ! O voice of fear, 
 It reaches us here, even here ! 
 Dong, there is no God ; dong. 
 
 Ring ding, ring ding, tara, tara, 
 To battle, to battle — haste, haste — 
 To battle, to battle — aha, aha ! 
 , On, on, to the conqueror's feast, 
 
 From east to west, and south and north. 
 Ye nii'ii of valour and of worth,
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 1G5 
 
 Ye mighty men of arms, come forth 
 And work yonr Avill, for that is just ; 
 And in your impulse put yoiu: trust, 
 Beneath your feet the fools are dust. 
 Alas, alas ! O grief and wrong, 
 The good are weak, the wicked strong ; 
 And oh, my God, how long, hoAV long ! 
 Dong, there is no God ; dong. 
 
 Ring, ting ; to bow before the strong, 
 
 There is a rapture too in this ; 
 
 AVoi-k for thy master, Avork, thou slave — 
 
 He is not merciful, but brave. 
 
 Be 't joy to sei-ve, who free and proud 
 
 Scorns thee and all the ignoble ci-owd ; 
 
 Take that, 'tis all thou art allowed, 
 
 Except the snaky hope that they 
 
 May sometime serve wlio rule to-day. 
 
 When, by hell- demons, shan't they pay? 
 
 O wickedness, O shame, and grief, 
 
 And heavy load, and no relief! 
 
 O God, O God ! and which is worst, 
 
 To be the cui'ser or the curst, 
 
 The victim or the min-derer ? Dong, • 
 
 Dong, there is no God ; dong. 
 
 Ring ding, ring ding, tara, tara, 
 Away, and hush that preaching — fogh ! 
 Ye vulgar dreamers about peace, 
 Who offer noblest hearts, to heal 
 The tenderest hurts honoiu: can feel, 
 Paid magistrates and the police ! 
 O peddling merchant-justice, go, 
 Exacter rules than yoxirs we know ; 
 Resentment's rule, and that high law 
 Of whoso best the sword can draw. 
 Ah well, and yet— dong, dong, dong. 
 Go on, my friends, as now you do ; 
 Lawyers arc villains, soldiers too ;
 
 166 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 And nothinf^ 's new, and notliinij 's true. < 
 
 Dong, there is no God ; doiig. 
 
 I had a dream, from eve to light 
 
 A bell went soimding all the night. 
 
 Gay mirth, black woe, thin joys, huge pain : 
 
 I tried to stop it, but in vain. 
 
 It ran right on, and never broke ; 
 
 Only Avhen day began to stream 
 
 Through the white curtains to my bed, 
 
 And like an angel at my head 
 
 Light stood and touched me — I awoke, 
 
 And looked, and said, ' It is a dream.' 
 
 S]!. Ah ! not so bad. You 've read, I see, 
 Yoiur Beranger, and thought of me. 
 But really you owe some apology 
 For harping thus upon theology. 
 I 'm not a judge, I own; in short. 
 Religion may not be my forte. 
 The Church of England I belong to. 
 And think Dissenters not far wrong too ; 
 They 're vulgar dogs ; but for his creed 
 
 I hold that no man will be d d. 
 
 But come and listen in your turn. 
 
 And yoii shall hear and mark and learn. 
 
 ' There is no God,' the wicked saith, 
 
 ' And truly it "s a blessing, 
 For what He mig^ht have done with us 
 
 It 's better only guessing.' 
 
 ' There is no God,' a youngster thinks, 
 
 ' Or really, if there may be. 
 He surely didn't mean a man 
 
 Always to be a baby.' 
 
 ' There is no God, or if there is,' 
 The tradesman thinks, ' 'twere lluuiy 
 
 If He should take it ill in mc 
 To make a I'tUU' iikhu-v.'
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 167 
 
 'Whether there be,' the'rich iiuui says, 
 
 ' It matters very little, 
 For 1 aud mine, thank somebody, 
 
 Are not in want of victual.' 
 
 Some other.s, also, to themselves, 
 
 Who scarce so much as doubt it. 
 Think there is none, when they are well. 
 
 And do not think about it. 
 
 But country folks who live beneath 
 
 The shadow of the steeple ; 
 The parson and the parson's wife. 
 
 And mostly married people ; 
 
 Yovitha green and happy in first love. 
 
 So thankful for illusion ; 
 And men cavight out in what the world 
 
 Calls guilt, in first confusion ; 
 
 And almost every one when age. 
 Disease, or sorroAvs strike him, 
 • Inclines to think there is a God, 
 
 Or something very like Him. 
 
 ]3ut eccoci ! with o\xv barchetta, 
 Here at the Sant' Elisabetta. 
 
 Di. Vineyards and maize, that 's pleasant for sore eyes. 
 
 Sp. And on the island's other side, 
 The place where Murray's faithful Guide 
 Informs ns Byron used to ride. 
 
 Di. The trellised vines ! enchanting ! Sandhills, ho ! 
 The sea, at last the sea — the real broad sea — 
 Beautiful ! and a glorious breeze upon it ! 
 
 Sp. Look back ; one catches at this station 
 Lagoon and sea in combination. 
 
 Di. On her still lake the city sits, 
 Where bark and boat around her flits ;
 
 168 LETTERS ATs^D REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Nor dreams, her soft siesta taking, 
 
 Of Adriatic billows breaking. 
 
 I do ; I see and hear them. Come ! to the sea ! 
 
 Oh, a grand surge ! we'll bathe ; qiiick, quick ! — undress ! 
 
 Quick, quick ! — in, in ! 
 
 We'll take the crested billows by their backs 
 
 And shake them. Quick I in, in ! 
 
 And I will taste again the old joy 
 
 I gloried in so when a boy ; 
 
 Aha ! come, come — great waters, roll ! 
 
 Accept me, take me, body and soul ! 
 
 That's done me good. It grieves me though, 
 
 I never came here long ago. 
 
 Sp. Pleasant, perhaps ; however, no offence, 
 Animal spirits are not common sense ; 
 They 're good enough as an assistance, 
 But in themselves a poor existence. 
 But you, with this one bathe no doubt 
 Have solved all questions out and out.
 
 1850.] AKTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 169 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Scene I. — The interior Arcade of the Doge^s Palace. 
 
 Sp. Thunder and rain ! dear, O dear ! 
 But see, a noble shelter here, 
 This grand arcade where our Venetian 
 Has formed of Gothic and of Grecian 
 A combination strange, but striking, 
 And singularly to my liking ! 
 Let moderns reap where ancients sowed, 
 I at least make it my abode. 
 And now let's hear your famous Ode: 
 * Through the great sinful ' — how did it go on ? 
 For Principles of Art and so on 
 I care perhaps about three ciirses — 
 But hold myself a judge of verses. 
 
 Di. ' My brain was lightened when my tongue had said, 
 " Christ is not risen." ' 
 
 Sp. Well, now it's anything but clear 
 Wliat is the tone that 's taken here : 
 AVhat is your logic ? what's your theology ? 
 Is it, or is it not, neology ? 
 That's a great fault ; you're this and that, 
 And here and there, and nothing flat; 
 Yet writing's golden Avord what is it, 
 But the three syllables ' explicit ?' 
 Say, if you cannot help it, less. 
 But what you do put, put express. 
 I fear that rule won't meet yoiu* feeling •: 
 You think half showing, half concealing, 
 Is God's own method of revealing. 
 
 Di. To please my own poor mind ! to find repose ; 
 To physic the sick soul ; to furnish vent 
 To diseased humours in the moral frame !
 
 170 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Sp. A sort of seton, I suppose, 
 A moral bleeding at the nose : 
 H'm ; — and the tone too after all, 
 Something of the ironical ? 
 Sarcastic, say ; or were it fitter 
 To style it the religious bitter ? 
 
 Di. Interpret it I cannot, I but wrote it. 
 
 Sp. Perhaps ; but none that read can doubt it, 
 There is a strong Strauss-smell about it. 
 Heavens ! at your years your time to fritter 
 Upon a critical hair-splitter ! 
 Take larger views (and quit your Germans) 
 From the Analogy and sermons ; 
 I fancied, — you must doubtless know, — 
 Butler had proved an age ago, 
 That in religious as profane things 
 'Twas useless trying to explain things ; 
 Men's business-Avits, the only sane things, 
 These and compliance are the main things. 
 God, Revelation, and the rest of it, 
 Bad at the best, Ave make the best of it. 
 Like a good subject and wise man. 
 Believe whatever things you can. 
 Take your religion as 'twas foimd you. 
 And say no more of it, confound you ! ,• 
 
 And now I think the rain has ended ; 
 And the less said, the soonest mended. 
 
 Scene II. — In a Gondola. 
 
 Sjy. Per ora. To the Grand Canal. 
 Afterwards e'en as fancy shall. 
 
 Di. Afloat ; we move. Delicious ! Ah, 
 What else is hke the gondola ? 
 This level floor of liquid glass 
 Begins beneath us swift to pass. 
 It goes as though it Avent alone 
 By some impulsion of its own. 
 (HoAV light it moves, liow softly! Ah, 
 Were ail things like the gondola ! )
 
 1850.] ARTIIUn HUGH CLOUGU. 171 
 
 How light it moves, liow softly ! Ah, 
 Coiild life, as does our gondola, 
 Unvexed with quaxrels, aims and cares, 
 And moral duties and affairs, 
 Unswa3'ing, noiseless, swift and strong. 
 For ever thus — thus or]ide alono; ! 
 (How light we move, how softly ! Ali, 
 Were life but as the gondola !) 
 
 With no more motion than should bear 
 A freshness to the languid air ; 
 With no more effort than exprest 
 The need and natiu-alness of rest, 
 Which we beneath a gratefid shade 
 Shoidd take on peaceful pillows laid ! 
 (How light we move, how softly ! Ah, 
 Were life but as the gondola !) 
 
 In one imbroken passage borne 
 To closing night from opening morn, 
 Uplift at whiles slow eyes to mark 
 Some palace front, some passing bark ; 
 Through windows catch the varying shore, 
 And hear the soft turns of the oar ! 
 (How light we move, how softly ! Ah, 
 AVere life but as the gondola !) 
 So live, nor need to call to mind 
 Our slaving brother here behind ! 
 
 ^o 
 
 /Sp. Pooh ! Nature meant him for no better 
 Than our most humble menial debtor ; 
 Who thanks us for his day's employment 
 As we our purse for our enjoyment. 
 
 iJi. To make one's fellow-man an instriunent — 
 
 Sj). Is just the thing that makes him most content. 
 
 Di. Our gaieties, our luxuries. 
 
 Our pleasiu'es and our glee. 
 Mere insolence and w.uitonness, 
 Alas ! they feel to me.
 
 172 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 HoAv shall I laugh and sing and dance ? 
 
 My very heart recoils, 
 While here to give my mirth a chance 
 
 A hungry brother toils. 
 
 The joy that does not spring from joy 
 
 Which I in others see, 
 How can I venture to employ, 
 
 Or find it joy for me ? 
 
 Sp. Oh come, come, come ! By Him that sent us here, 
 Who's to enjoy at all, pray let us hear? 
 You won't ; . he can't ! Oh, no more fuss ! 
 Wliat's it to him, or he to us ? 
 Sing, sing away, be glad and gay, 
 And don't forget that we shall pay. 
 
 Di. Yes, it is beautiful ever, let foolish men rail at it 
 never. 
 Yes, it is beautiful truly, my brothers, I grant it you duly. 
 Wise are ye others that choose it, and happy ye all that 
 
 can use it. 
 Life it is beautiful wholly, and could we eliminate only 
 This interfering, enslaving, o'ermastering demon of 
 
 craving, 
 This wicked tempter inside us to ruin still eager to guide us. 
 Life were beatitude, action a possible pure satisfaction. 
 
 Sp. (Hexameters, by all that 's odious, 
 Beshod with rhyme to run melodious !) 
 
 Di. All as I go on my way I behold them consorting and 
 
 coupling ; 
 Faithful it seemeth, and fond ; very fond, very possibly 
 
 faithful ; 
 All as I go on my way with a pleasure sincere and un- 
 
 mingled. 
 Life it is beautiful truly, my brothers, I grant it you duly ; 
 But for perfection attaining is one method only, abstaining; 
 Let us abstain, for we should so, if only we thought that 
 
 we coidd so.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 173 
 
 Sp. Brcavo, bravissimo ! this time though 
 You rather were run short for rliyrae though ; 
 Not that on that account jo\\i verse 
 Could be much better or much worse. 
 
 This world is very odd we see, 
 
 We do not comprehend it ; 
 But in one fact we all agree, 
 
 God won't, and we can't mend it. 
 
 Being common sense, it can't be sin 
 
 To take it as I find it ; 
 The pleasure to take pleasure in ; 
 
 The pain, try not to mind it. 
 
 Di. O let me love my love unto myself alone, 
 And know my knowledge to the world unknown ; 
 No witness to the vision call. 
 Beholding, unbeheld of all ; 
 And worship thee, with thee withdrawn, apart, 
 Whoe'er, whate'er thou art. 
 Within the closest veil of mine own inmost heart. 
 
 Better it were, thou sayest, to consent, 
 
 Feast while we may, and live ere life be spent ;. 
 
 Close up clear eyes, and call the unstable siu-e, 
 
 The unlovely lovely, and the filthy pure ; 
 
 In self-belyings, self-deceivings roll. 
 
 And lose in Action, Passion, Talk, the soul. 
 
 Nay, better far to mark off" thus much air. 
 And call it heaven ; place bliss and glory there ; 
 Fix perfect homes in the unsubstantial sky. 
 And say, what is not, will be by-and-by ; 
 What here exists not must exist elsewhere. 
 But play no tricks upon thy soul, O man ; 
 Let fact be fact, and life the thing it can. 
 
 Sp. To those remarks so sage and clerkly. 
 Worthy of IMalebranche or Berkeley, 
 I trust it won't be deemed a sin 
 ir I too juiswer ' with a grin.'
 
 174 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 These juicy meats, this flashing wine, 
 
 May be an unreal mere appearance ; 
 Only — for my inside, in fine, 
 
 They have a singular coherence. 
 
 Oh yes, my ^^ensive youth, abstain ; 
 
 And any empty sick sensation, 
 Remember, anything like pain 
 
 Is only your imagination. 
 
 Trust me, I 've read yotu* German sage 
 To far more purpose e'er than you did ; 
 
 You find it in his wisest page, 
 
 Whom God deludes is well deluded. 
 
 Di. Wliere are the great, whom thou wouldst wish to 
 praise thee ? 
 Where are the piu-e, whom thou wouldst choose to love thee ? 
 Where are the brave, to stand supreme above thee. 
 Whose high commands would cheer, whose chidings raise 
 thee ? 
 Seek, seeker, in thyself; submit to find 
 In the stones, bread, and life in the blank mind. 
 
 (Written in London, standing in the Park, 
 One evening in July, just before dark.) 
 
 Sp. As I sat at the cafe, I said to myself, 
 They may talk as they please about Avhat they call pelf, 
 They may sneer as they like about eating and drinking, 
 But help it I cannot, I cannot help thinkinsr, 
 
 HoAv pleasiint it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 I sit at my table en grand scir/nenr, 
 And when I have done, throw a crust to the poor; 
 Not only the pleasure, one's self, of good living. 
 But also the pleasure of now and then giving. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, lieigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money.
 
 i85g.j ARTHUR HUGH clough. 175 
 
 It Avas btit last winter I came up to town, 
 But already I 'm getting a little renown ; 
 I make new acquaintance where'er I appear ; 
 T am not too shy, and have nothing to fear. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 I drive through the streets, and I care not a d n ; 
 
 The people they stare, and they ask who I am ; 
 And if I should chance to run over a cad, 
 I can pay for the damage if ever so bad. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 We stroll to our box and look down on the pit, 
 And if it weren't low should be tempted to spit ; 
 We loll and we talk until people look up, 
 And when it 's half over we go out to sup. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 The best of the table:^ and the best of the fare — 
 And as for the others, the devil may care; 
 It isn't our fault if they dare not afford 
 To sup like a prince and be drunk as a lord. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have mone3^ 
 
 We sit at our tables and tipple champagne ; 
 Ere one bottle goes, comes another again ; 
 The waiters they skip and they scuttle about. 
 And the landlord attends us so civilly out. 
 
 So pleasimt it is to have money, heidi ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 It was but last -winter I came up to town, 
 But already I 'm getting a little renown ; 
 I get to good houses without much ado. 
 Am beginning to see the nobility too. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money.
 
 176 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [l€50. 
 
 O dear ! wliat a pity they ever should lose it ! 
 For they are the gentry that knoAV how to use it ; 
 So grand and so graceful, such manners, such dinners, 
 But yet, after all, it is Ave are the winners. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 Thus I sat at my table en grand seigneur^ 
 And when I had done threw a crust to the poor ; 
 Not only the pleasure, one's self, of good eating, 
 But also the pleasure of now and then treating. 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 So pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 They may talk as they please about what they call pelf, 
 And how one ought never to think of one's self, 
 And how pleasures of thought surpass eating and drinking — 
 My pleasiue of thoright is the pleasure of thinking 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 (Written in Venice, but for all parts true, 
 'Twas not a crust I gave him, but a sous.) 
 
 A gondola here, and a gondola there, 
 'Tis the pleasantest fashion of taking the air. 
 To right and to left ; stop, turn, and go yonder. 
 And let us repeat, o'er the tide as we Avauder, 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 Come, leave your Gothic worn-out story, 
 San Giorgio and the Eedentore ; 
 I from no building, gay or solemn, 
 Can spare the shapely Grecian column. 
 'Tis not, these centuries foiu-, for nought 
 Our European world of thought 
 Hath made familiar to its home 
 The classic mind of Greece and Eome ;
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 177 
 
 In all new work that would look fortli 
 
 To more than antiquarian worth, 
 
 Palladio's pediments and bases, 
 
 Or something siiich, will find their places : 
 
 Maturer optics don't delight 
 
 In childish dim religious light, 
 
 In evanescent vague effects 
 
 That shirk, not face one's intellects ; 
 
 They love not fancies just betrayed, 
 
 And artful tricks of light and shade, 
 
 But pure form nakedly displayed. 
 
 And all things absolutely made. 
 
 The Doge's palace though, Irom hence, 
 In spite of doctrinaire pretence, 
 The tide now level with the quay, 
 Is certainly a thing to see. 
 "We '11 turn to the Kialto soon ; 
 One 's told to see it by the moon. 
 
 A gondola here, and a gondola there, 
 'Tis the pleasantest fashion of taking the air. 
 To right and to left ; stop, turn, and go yonder, 
 And let us reflect, o'er the flood as we wander, 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money, heigh ho ! 
 
 How pleasant it is to have money. 
 
 Di. How light we go, how soft we skim, 
 
 And all in moonlight seem to swim 
 
 o' 
 
 The south side rises o'er our bark, 
 A wall impenetrably dark ; 
 The north is seen profusely bright; 
 The water, is it shade or light ? 
 Say, gentle moon, which conquers now 
 The flood, those massy hulls, or thou ? 
 (How light we go, how softly ! Ah, 
 Were life but as the gondola !) 
 
 How light we go, how soft we skim ! 
 And all in moonlight seem to swim. 
 In moonlight is it now, or shade ? 
 In planes of sure division made, 
 
 N
 
 178 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 By angles sharp of palace walls 
 The clear light and the shadow falls ; 
 O sight of glory, sight of wonder ! 
 Seen, a pictorial portent, under, > 
 O great Rialto, the vast round 
 Of thy thrice-solid arch profound ! 
 (How light we go, how softly ! Ah, 
 Life should be as the gondola !) 
 
 How light we go, how softly — 
 
 Sp. Nay ; 
 
 'Fore heaven, enough of that to-day : 
 I'm deadly weary of your tune, 
 And half-ennuye Avith the moon ; 
 The shadows lie, the glories fall. 
 And are but moonsliine after all. 
 It goes against my conscience really 
 To let myself feel so ideally. 
 Come, for the Piazzetta steer ; 
 'Tis nine o'clock or very near. 
 
 These airy blisses, skiey joys 
 Of vague romantic girls and boys, 
 "Which melt the heart and the brain soften, 
 When not affected, as too often 
 They are, remind m'e, I protest. 
 Of nothing better at the best 
 Than Timon's feast to his ancient lovers, 
 Warm water under silver covers ; 
 ' Lap, dogs,' I think I hear him say ; 
 And lap who will, so I'm away. 
 
 Di. How light we go, how soft we skim ! 
 And all in moonlight seem to swim ; 
 Against bright clouds projected dark, 
 The white dome now, reclined I mark. 
 And, by o'er-brilliaut lamps displayed. 
 The Doge's columns and arcade; 
 Over still waters mildly come 
 The distant waters and the hum.
 
 1850.] AETHUU HUGH CLOUGII. 179 
 
 (How light we go, how softly ! Ah, 
 Life should be as the gondola !) 
 
 How light we go, how soft we skim. 
 And all in open moonlight swim ! 
 All, gondolier, slow, slow, more slow ! 
 We go ; but wherefore thus should go ? 
 Ah, let not muscle all too strong 
 Beguile, betray thee to our wrong ! 
 On to the landing, onward. Nay, 
 Sweet dream, a little longer stay ! 
 On to the landing ; here. And, ah ! 
 Life is not as the gondola. 
 
 Sp. Tre ore. So. The Parthenon e 
 Is it ? you haunt for your limone. 
 Let me induce you to join me, 
 In gramolate persiche. 
 
 Scene III. — The Academy at Venice. 
 
 Di. A modern daub it was, perchance, 
 I know not : but the connoisseur 
 From Titian's hues, I dare be sure, 
 Had never tiumed one kindly glance. 
 
 Where Byron, somewhat drest-up, draws 
 His sword, impatient long, and speaks 
 Unto a tribe of motley Greeks 
 His fealty to their good cause. 
 
 Not far, assumed to mystic bliss. 
 Behold the ecstatic Virgin rise : 
 Ah, wherefore vainly to fond eyes 
 That melted into tears for this ? 
 
 Yet if we must live, as would seem, 
 These peremptory heats to claim. 
 Ah, not for profit, not for fiime, 
 And not for pleasure's giddy dream, 
 
 And not for piping empty reeds. 
 And not for colouring idle dust ; 
 If live we positively -must, 
 God's name be blest for noble deeds. 
 
 N 2
 
 180 LETTERS AND REMAINS OP [1850. 
 
 Verses ! well, they are made, so let them go ; 
 No more if I can help. This is one way 
 The procreant heat and fervour of our youth 
 Escapes, in puff, and smoke, and shapeless words 
 Of mere ejaculation, nothing worth. 
 Unless to make maturer years content 
 To slave in base compliance to the world. 
 
 I have scarce spoken yet to this strange follower 
 Whom I picked up — ye great gods, tell me where ! 
 And when ! for I remember such long years. 
 And yet he seems new come. I commune Avith myself; 
 He speaks, I hear him, and resume to myself; 
 Whate'er I think, he adds his comments to ; 
 Which yet not interrupts me. Scarce I know 
 If ever once directly I addressed him : 
 Let me essay it now ; for I have strength. 
 Yet what he wants, and what he fain would have. 
 Oh, I know all too surely ; not in vain, 
 Although unnoticed, has he dogged my ear. 
 Come, we'll be definite, explicit, plain ; 
 I can resist, I know ; and 'twill be well 
 For colloquy to have used this manlier mood, 
 Which is to last, ye chances say how long ? 
 How shall I call him ? Mephistophiles ? 
 
 Sp. T come, I come. 
 
 Di. So quick, so eager ; ha ! 
 
 Like an eaves-dropping menial on my thought. 
 With something of an exultation too, metliinks, 
 Out-peeping in that springy, jaunty gait. 
 I doubt about it. Shall I do it ? Oh ! oh ' 
 Shame on me ! come ! Shall I, my follower, 
 Should I conceive (not that at all I do, 
 'Tis curiosity that prompts my speech) — 
 But should I form, a thing to be supposed, 
 A wish to bargain for your merchandise. 
 Say what were your demands ? what were your terms ? 
 What should I do ? what should I cease to do ?
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 181 
 
 What incense on what altars must I burn ? 
 And what abandon ? what vinlearn, or learn ? 
 Eeligion goes, I take it. 
 
 Sp. Oh, 
 
 You'll go to church of course, you know ; 
 Or at the least will take a pew 
 To send your wife and servants to. 
 Trust me, I make a point of that ; 
 No infidelity, that's fiat. 
 
 Di. Religion is not in a pew, say some ; 
 Cucullus, you hold, facit monachum. 
 
 SjJ. Wliy? ^^ *° feelings of devotion, 
 I interdict all vague emotion ; 
 But if you will, for once and all 
 Compound with ancient Juvenal — 
 Orandum est, one perfect prayer 
 For savoir-vivre and savoir-faire. 
 
 Theology — don't recommend you. 
 Unless, turned lawyer, heaven should send you 
 In your profession's way a case 
 Of Baptism and prevenieut grace ; 
 But that's not Ukely. I'm inclined. 
 All circumstances borne in mind. 
 To think (to keep you in due borders) 
 You'd better enter holy orders. 
 
 Di. On that, my friend, you'd better not insist. 
 
 Sp. Well, well, 'tis but a good thing miss'd. 
 The item 's optional, no doubt ; 
 But how to get you bread without ? 
 You'll marry ; I shall find the lady. 
 Make your proposal, and be steady. 
 
 Di. Marry, ill spirit ! and at your sole choice ! 
 
 Sp. De rigueur ! can't give you a voice. 
 Wliat matter ? Oh, trust one who knows you, 
 You'll make an admirable sposo.
 
 182 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Di. Enough. But action — look to that well, mind me ; 
 See that some not imworthy work you find me ; 
 If man I be, then give the man expression. 
 
 Sp. Of course you'll enter a profession ; 
 If not the Church, why then the Law. 
 By Jove, we'll teach you how to draw ! 
 Besides, the best of the concern is 
 I'm hand and glove with the attorneys. 
 With them and me to help, don't doubt 
 But in due season you'll come out ; 
 Leave Kelly, Cockburn, in the lurch. 
 Bttt yet, do think about the Church. 
 
 Di. 'Tis well, ill spirit, I admire your wit ; 
 As for your wisdom, I shall think of it. 
 And now farewell. 
 
 Scene IV. — In St. Mark''s. DijjsycJms alone. ■ 
 The Law ! 'twere honester, if 'twere genteel, 
 To say the dung-cart. What ! shall I go about, 
 And like the walking shoe-black roam the flags 
 To see whose boots are dirtiest? Oh the luck 
 To stoop and clean a pair ! 
 
 Eeligion, if indeed it be in vain 
 
 To expect to find in this more modem time 
 
 That which the old world styled, in old-world phrase. 
 
 Walking with God. It seems His newer wiU 
 
 We should not think of Him at all, but trudge it, 
 
 And of the world He has assigned us make 
 
 What best we can. 
 
 Then love : I scarce can think 
 That these be-maddening discords of the mind 
 To pure melodious sequence could be changed, 
 And all the vext conundrums of our life 
 Solved to all time by this old pastoral 
 Of a new Adam and a second Eve 
 Set in a garden which no serpent seeks. 
 
 And yet I hold heart can beat ti-ue to heart : 
 And to hew down the tree which bears this fniit, 
 To do a thing which cuts me off fi'om hope.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 188 
 
 To falsify the movement of Love's mind, 
 
 To seat some alien trifler on the throne 
 
 A queen may come to claim— ithat were ill done. 
 
 Wluit ! to the close hand of the clutching Jew 
 
 Hand up that rich reversion ! and for Avhat ? 
 
 This would be hard, did I indeed believe 
 
 'Twould ever fall. That love, the large repose 
 
 Kestorative, not to mere outside needs 
 
 Skin-deep, but throughly to the total man, 
 
 Exists, I will believe, but so, so rare, 
 
 So doubtful, so exceptional, hard to guess ; 
 
 When guessed, so often counterfeit ; in brief, 
 
 A thing not possibly to be conceived 
 
 An item in the reckonings of the wise. 
 
 Action, that staggers me. For I had hoped, 
 Midst weakness, indolence, frivolity. 
 Irresolution, still had hoped ; and this 
 Seems sacrificing hope. Better to wait ; 
 The wise men wait ; it is the foohsh haste. 
 And ere the scenes are in the slides would play. 
 And while the instruments are tuning, dance. 
 
 I see Napoleon on the heights intent 
 To arrest that one brief unit of loose time 
 Which hands high Victory's thread ; his marshals fret, 
 His soldiers clamour-low : the very guns 
 Seem going off of themselves ; the cannon strain 
 Like hell-dogs in the leash. But he, he waits ; 
 And lesser chances and inferior hopes 
 Meantime go pouring past. Men gnash their teeth ; 
 The very faithful have begun to doubt ; 
 But they molest not the calna eye that seeks 
 Midst all this huddUng silver little worth 
 The one thin piece that comes, pure gold ; he waits. 
 O me, when the great deed e'en now has broke 
 Like a man's hand the horizon's level line, 
 ScT soon to fill the zenith Avith rich clouds ; 
 O, in this narrow interspace, this marge. 
 This list and selvage of a glorious time.
 
 184 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 To despair of the great and sell unto the mean ! 
 O thou of little faith, what hast thou done ? 
 
 Yet if the occasion coming should find us 
 
 Undexterous, incapable ? In light things 
 
 Prove thou the arms thou long'st to glorify, 
 
 Nor fear to work up from the lowest ranks 
 
 Whence come great Nature's Captains. And high deeds 
 
 Haunt not the fringy edges of the fight. 
 
 But the pell-mell of men. Oh, what and if 
 
 E'en now by lingering here I let them slip. 
 
 Like an unpractised spyer through a glass. 
 
 Still pointing to the blank, too high. And yet. 
 
 In dead details to smother vital ends 
 
 Which would give life to them ; in the deft trick 
 
 Of prentice -handling to forget great art, 
 
 To base mechanical adroitness yield 
 
 The Inspiration and the Hope a slave ! 
 
 Oh, and to blast that Innocence, which though 
 
 Here it may seem a dull unopening bud, 
 
 May yet bloom freely in celestial clime ! 
 
 Were it not better done then, to keep ofi" 
 
 And see, not share, the strife ; stand out the waltz 
 
 Which fools whirl dizzy in ? Is it possible ? 
 
 Contamination taints the idler first ; 
 
 And without base compliance, e'en that same 
 
 Which buys bold hearts free course, Earth lends not these 
 
 Their pent and miserable standing-room. 
 
 Life loves no lookers-on at his great game, 
 
 And with boy's mahce still delights to tui-n 
 
 The tide of sport upon the sitters -by. 
 
 And set observers scampering with their notes. 
 
 Oh, it is great to do and know not what, 
 
 Nor let it e'er be known. The dashing stream 
 
 Stays not to pick his steps among the rocks, 
 
 Or let his water-breaks be chronicled. 
 
 And though the hunter looks before he leap, 
 
 'Tis instinct rather than a shaped-out thought 
 
 That lifts him his bold way. Then, instinct, hail ;
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 185 
 
 And farewell hesitation. If I stay, 
 
 I am not innocent ; nor if I go — 
 
 E'en should I lall — beyond redemption lost. 
 
 Ah, if I had a course like a full stream, 
 If life were as the field of chase ! No, no ; 
 The life of instinct has, it seems, gone by, 
 And will not be forced back. And to live now 
 I must sluice out myself into canals, 
 And lose all force in ducts. The modern Hotspur 
 Shrills not his trumpet of To Horse, To llorae ! 
 But consults columns in a railway guide ; 
 A demi-god of figures; an Achilles 
 Of computation ; 
 
 A verier Mercury, express come down 
 To do the world with swifl arithmetic. 
 Well, one could bear with that, were the end ours, 
 One's choice and the correlative of the soul ; 
 To drudge were then sweet service. But indeed 
 The earth moves slowly, if it move at all, 
 And by the general, not the single force 
 Of the link'd members of the vast machine. 
 In all these crowded rooms of industry. 
 No individual soul has loftier leave 
 Than fiddling with a piston or a valve. 
 Well, one could bear that also : one would drudge 
 And do one's petty part, and be content 
 In base manipulation, solaced still 
 By thinking of the leagued fraternity, 
 And of co-operation, and the effect 
 Of the great engine. If indeed it work, 
 And is not a mere treadmill ! which it may be. 
 Who can confirm it is not ? We ask action. 
 And dream of arms and conflict ; and string up 
 All self-devotion's muscles ; and are set 
 To fold up papers. To what end? we know not. 
 Other folks do so ; it is always done ; 
 And it perhaps is right. And we are paid for it, 
 For nothing else we can be. He that eats 
 Must serve ; and serve as other servants do :
 
 186 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [IS.W. 
 
 And don the lacquey's livery of the house. 
 
 O could I shoot my thought up to the sky, 
 
 A column of pure shape, for aU to observe ! 
 
 But.I must slave, a meagre coral-worm, 
 
 To build beneath the tide with excrement 
 
 "What one day will be island, or be reef. 
 
 And will feed men, or wreck them. Well, well, well. 
 
 Adieu, ye twisted thinkings. I submit : it must be. 
 
 Action is what one must get, it is clear ; 
 And one could dream it better than one finds, 
 In its kind personal, in its motive not ; 
 Not selfish as it now is, nor as now 
 Maiming the individual. If we had that. 
 It would cure all indeed. O, how would then 
 These pitiful rebellions of the flesh, 
 These caterwaulings of the eflfeminate heart, 
 These hurts of self-imagined dignity, 
 Pass like the seaweed firom about the bows 
 Of a great vessel speeding straight to sea ! 
 Yes, if we could have that ; but I suppose 
 We shall not have it, and therefore I submit ! 
 
 Sp, (from within.) Submit, submit ! 
 'Tis common sense, and human wit 
 Can claim no higher name than it. 
 Submit, submit ! 
 
 Devotion, and ideas, and love, 
 And beauty claim their place above ; 
 But saint and sage and poet's dreams 
 Divide the light in coloured streams, 
 Which this alone gives all combined, 
 The ' siccum lumen ' of the mind, 
 Called common sense : and no high wit 
 Gives better counsel than does it. 
 Submit, submit ! 
 
 To see things simply as they are 
 Here at our elbows, transcends far 
 Trying to spy out at midday 
 Some ' bright particular star ' which may,
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIL 187 
 
 Or not, be visible at night, 
 
 But clearly is not in daylight ; 
 
 No inspiration vague outweighs 
 
 The plain good common sense that says, 
 
 Submit, submit ! 
 
 'Tis common sense, and human wit 
 
 Can ask no higher name than it. 
 
 Submit, submit ! 
 
 Scene V. — The Piazza at Night. 
 
 Di. There have been times, not many, but enough 
 To quiet all repinings of the heart ; 
 There have been times, in which my tranquil soul, 
 No longer nebulous, sparse, errant, seemed 
 Upon its axis solidly to move. 
 Centred and fast : no mere elastic blank 
 For random rays to traverse unretained, 
 But rounding Imuinous its fan- ellipse 
 Around its central sun. Ay, yet again, 
 As in more faint sensations I detect, 
 With it too, round an Inner, Mightier orb. 
 May-be with that too — tliis I dare not say — 
 Around yet more, more central, more supreme, 
 Whate'er, how numerous soe'er they be, 
 I am and feel myself, where'er I wind, 
 What vagrant chance soe'er I seem to obey, 
 Communicably theirs. 
 
 O happy hours ! 
 O compensation ample for long days 
 Of what impatient tongues call wretchedness ! 
 O beautiful, beneath the magic moon. 
 To walk the watery way of palaces ! 
 O beautifid, o'ervaulted with gemmed blue. 
 This spacious coiu-t, with colour and with gold, 
 With cupolas, and pinnacles, and points. 
 And crosses multiplex, and tips and balls 
 (Wherewith the bright stars unreproving mix, 
 Nor scorn by hasty eyes to be confused) ; 
 Fantastically perfect this low pile
 
 188 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Of oriental glory ; these long ranges 
 
 Of classic chiselling, this gay flickering crowd, 
 
 And the calm campanile. Beautiful ! 
 
 O, beautiful ! and that seemed more profound, 
 
 This morning by the pillar when I sat 
 
 Under the great arcade, at the review, 
 
 And took, and held, and ordered on my brain 
 
 The faces, and the voices, and the whole mass 
 
 O' the motley facts of existence flowing by ! ; 
 
 perfect, if 'twere all ! But it is not ; 
 Hints haunt me ever of a more beyond : 
 
 1 am rebuked by a sense of the incomplete, 
 Of a completion over soon assumed, 
 
 Of adding up too soon. What we call sin, 
 
 I could believe a painful opening out 
 
 Of paths for ampler virtue. The bare field, 
 
 Scant vsdth lean ears of harvest, long had mockec' 
 
 The vext laborious farmer ; came at length 
 
 The deep plough in the lazy undersoil 
 
 Down-driving ; with a cry earth's fibres crack, 
 
 And a few mouths, and lo ! the golden leas. 
 
 And autumn's crowded shocks and loaded wains. 
 
 Let us look back on life ; was any change, 
 
 Any now blest expansion, but at first 
 
 A pang, remorse-like, sliot to the inmost seats 
 
 Of moral being ? To do anything. 
 
 Distinct on any one thing to decide, 
 
 To leave the habitual and the old, and quit 
 
 The easy chair of use and wont, seems crime 
 
 To the weak soul, forgetful how at fii'st 
 
 Sitting down seemed so too. And, oh ! this woman's heart. 
 
 Fain to be forced, incredulous of choice, 
 
 And waiting a necessity for God. 
 
 Yet I could think, indeed, the perfect caU 
 Should force the perfect answer. If the voice 
 Ought to receive its echo fi-om the soul. 
 Wherefore this silence ? If it should rouse my being, 
 Why this reluctance ? Have I not thought o'er much 
 Of other men, and of the ways of the world ?
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 189 
 
 But what they are, or have been, matters not. 
 To thine own self be true, the wise man says. 
 Are then my fears myself? O double self ! 
 And I untrue to both ? O, there are hoiirs, 
 When love, and faith, and dear domestic ties, 
 And converse with old friends, and pleasant walks. 
 Familiar faces, and familiar books, 
 Study, and art, upliftings unto prayer, 
 And admiration of the noblest things, 
 Seem all ignoble only ; all is mean. 
 And nought as I would have it. Then at others. 
 My mind is in her rest ; my heart at home 
 In all around ; my soul secure in place, 
 And the vext needle perfect to her poles. 
 * Aimless and hopeless in my life I seem 
 
 To thread the winding by-ways of the town. 
 Bewildered, baffled, hurried hence and thence, 
 All at cross purpose even with myself. 
 Unknowing whence or whither. Then at once, 
 At a step, I crown the Campanile's top. 
 And view all mapped below ; islands, lagoon, 
 A hundred steeples and a million roofs. 
 The fruitfiil champaign, and the cloud-capt Alps, 
 And the broad Adriatic. Be it enough ; 
 If I lose this, how terrible ! No, no ; 
 I am contented, and will not complain. 
 To the old paths, my soul ! O, be it so ! 
 I bear the work-day burden of dull Hfe 
 About these foot-sore flags of a weary world, 
 Heaven knows how long it has not been ; at once, 
 Lo ! I am in the Spirit on the Lord's day 
 "With John in Patmos. Is it not enough. 
 One day in seven? and if this should go. 
 If this pure solace should desert my mind. 
 What were all else ? I dare not risk this loss. 
 To the old paths, my soid ! 
 
 Sp. Oh yes. 
 
 To moon about religion ; to inhume 
 Yoiu' ripened age in solitary walks.
 
 190 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 For self-discussion ; to debate in letters 
 
 Vext points witli earnest friends ; past other men 
 
 To cherish natural instincts, yet to fear them 
 
 And less than any use them ; oh, no doubt, 
 
 In a corner sit and mope, and be consoled 
 
 With thinking one is clever, while the room 
 
 Eings through with animation and the dance. 
 
 Then talk of old examples ; to pervert 
 
 Ancient real facts to modern unreal dreams, 
 
 And build up baseless fabrics of romance 
 
 And heroism upon historic sand ; 
 
 To burn, forsooth, for action, yet despise 
 
 Its merest accidence and alphabet ; 
 
 Cry out for service, and at once rebel 
 
 At the application of its plainest rules : <ii 
 
 This you call life, my friend, reality ; 
 
 Doing your duty imto God and man — 
 
 I know not what. Stay at Venice, if you will ; 
 
 Sit musing in its churches hour on hour 
 
 Cross-kneed upon a bench ; climb up at Avhiles 
 
 The neighboiu-ing tower, and kill the lingering day 
 
 With old comparisons ; when night succeeds, 
 
 Evading, yet a little seeking, what 
 
 You would and would not, turn your doubtful eyes 
 
 On moon and stars to help morality ; 
 
 Once in a fortnight say, by lucky chance 
 
 Of happier tempered coffee, gain (great Heaven !) 
 
 A pious rapture : is it not enough ? 
 
 Di. 'Tis well : thou cursed spirit, go thy way ! 
 I am in higher hands than yours. 'Tis well ; 
 Who taught you menaces ? Who told you, pray, 
 Because I asked you questions, and made show 
 Of hearing Avhat you answered, therefore — 
 
 Sp. Oh, 
 
 As if I didn't know ! 
 
 Di. Come, come, my friend, 
 
 I may have wavered, but I have thought better. 
 We'll say no more of it.
 
 1850.] ARTIIUE HUGH CLOUGH. 191 
 
 Sp. Oh, I dare say : 
 
 But as you like ; 'tis your OAvn loss ; once more, 
 Beware ! 
 
 Di. (alone). I\Iust it be then ? So quick upon my thought 
 To follow the fulfilment and the deed ? 
 I counted not on this ; I counted ever 
 To hold and turn it over in my hands 
 IMuch longer, much : I took it up indeed, 
 For speculation rather ; to gain thought, 
 New data. Oh, and now to be goaded on 
 By menaces, entangled among tricks ; 
 That I won't suffer. Yet it is the law ; 
 'Tis this makes action always. But for this 
 We ne'er should act at all ; and act we must. 
 Why quarrel with the fashion of a fact 
 Which, one way, must be, one time, why not now ? 
 
 Sjy- Submit, submit ! 
 For tell me then, in earth's great laws 
 Have you found any saving clause. 
 Exemption special granted you 
 From doing what the rest must do ? 
 Of common sense who made you quit, 
 And told you, you'd no need of it, 
 Nor to submit? 
 
 To move on angels' wings were sweet ; 
 But who would therefore scorn his feet ? 
 It cannot walk up to the sky ; 
 It therefore will lie doAvn and die. 
 Rich meats it don't obtain at call ; 
 It therefore will not eat at all. 
 Poor babe, and yet a babe of wit ! 
 But common sense, not much of it, 
 Or 'twould submit. 
 Submit, submit ! 
 
 As joxir good father did before you. 
 And as the mother Avho first bore you. 
 O yes ! a child of heavenly lihtli ! 
 But yet it was born too on earth.
 
 192 LETTERS AND KEMAINS OP [l850. 
 
 Keep your new birth for that far day 
 When in the gi-ave yoiir bones you lay, 
 All with yoiu- kindred and connection, 
 In hopes of happy resurrection. 
 But how meantime to live is fit, 
 Ask common sense ; and what says it ? 
 Submit, submit! 
 
 Scene VI. — On a Bridge. 
 
 Bi. 'Tis gone, the fierce inordinate desire, 
 The burning thirst for action — utterly ; 
 Gone like a ship that passes in the night 
 On the high seas : gone, yet will come again : 
 Gone, yet expresses something that exists. 
 Is it a thing ordained, then ? is it a clue 
 For my life's conduct ? is it a law for me 
 That opportunity shall breed distrust, 
 Not passing until that pass ? Chance and resolve. 
 Like two loose comets wandering Avide in space. 
 Crossing each other's orbits time on time. 
 Meet never. Void indifference and doubt 
 Let through the present boon, which ne'er turns back 
 To await the after sure-arriving wish. 
 How shall I then explain it to myself. 
 That in blank thought my purpose lives ? 
 The uncharged cannon mocking still the spark 
 When come, which ere come it had loudly claimed. 
 Am I to let it be so still ? For truly 
 The need exists, I know ; the wish but sleeps 
 (Sleeps, and anon will wake and cry for food) ; 
 And to put by these unreturning gifts, 
 Because the feeUng is not with me now, 
 Seems folly more than merest babyhood's. 
 But must I then do violence to myself. 
 And push on nature, force desire (that's ill), 
 Because of knowledge ? which is great, but works 
 By rides of large exception ; to tell which 
 Nought is more livllible than mere caprice.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 193 
 
 What need for action yet ? I am happy now, 
 I feel no lack — what cause is there for haste ? 
 Am I not happy ? is not that enough ? 
 Depart ! 
 
 ^S";). Oh yes ! you thought you had escaped no doubt 
 This worldly fiend that follows you about, 
 This compound of convention and impiety, 
 This mongrel of imcleanness and propriety. 
 What else were bad enough ? but let me say 
 I too have my grandes maniei'cs in my way ; 
 Could speak high sentiment as well as you, 
 And out-blauk-verse you without much ado ; 
 Have my religion also in my kind, 
 For dreaming unfit, because not designed. 
 What ! you know not that I too can be serious, 
 Can speak big words, and use the tone imperious ; 
 Can speak, not honiedly of love and beauty, 
 But sternly of a something much like duty. 
 Oh, do you look surprised ? were never told, 
 Perhaps, that all that glitters is not gold. 
 The Devil oft the Holy Scripture uses, 
 But God can act the Devil when He chooses. 
 Farewell. But, verhiim sapienti satis — 
 I do not make this revelation gratis. 
 Farewell : beware ! 
 
 Di. Ill spirits can quote holy books I knew ; 
 What will they nol say ? what not dare to do ? 
 
 Sp. Beware, beware ! 
 
 Di. What, loitering still ? Still, O foul spirit, there ? 
 Go hence, I tell thee, go ! I ivill beware. 
 {Alone) It must be then. I feel it in my soul j 
 The iron enters sundering flesh and bone. 
 And sharper than the two-edged sword of God. 
 I come into deep waters — help, oh help ! 
 The floods run over me. 
 
 Therefore farewell ! a long and last farewell 
 Ye pious sweet simplicities of life, 
 
 O
 
 194 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Good books, good friends, and holy moods, and all 
 That lent rough life sweet Sunday -seeming rests. 
 Making earth heaven-like. Welcome, wicked world, 
 The hardening heart, the calculating brain 
 Narrowing its doors to thought, the lying lips. 
 The calm- dissembling eyes; the greedy flesh, 
 The world, the Devil — welcome, welcome, welcome. 
 
 Sp. (from within). This stern Necessity of things 
 On every side our being rings ; 
 Our sallying eager actions fell 
 Vainly against that iron wall. 
 Where once her finger points the way, 
 The wise thinks only to obey; 
 Take life as she has ordered it, 
 And come Avhat may of it, submit, 
 Submit, submit ! 
 
 Who take im^Dhcitly her will, 
 For these her vassal chances still 
 Bring store of joys, successes, pleasiu-es ; 
 But whoso ponders, weighs, and measures, 
 She calls her torturers up to goad 
 With spur and scourges on the road ; 
 He does at last with pain whate'er 
 He spui'ned at first. Of such, beware, 
 Beware, beware ! 
 
 Di. O God, O God ! The great floods of the soul 
 Flow over me ! I come into deep waters 
 Where no ground is ! 
 
 Sj^. Don't be the least afraid ; 
 There 's not the slightest reason for alarm ; 
 I only meant by a perhaps rough shake 
 To rouse you from a dreamy unhealthy sleep. 
 Up, then — up, and be going : the large world, 
 The throng'd life waits us. 
 
 Come, my pretty boy. 
 You have been making mows to the blank sky 
 Quite long enough for good. We '11 put you up
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 195 
 
 Into the higher forna, 'Tis time you learn 
 The Second Reverence, for things aroxind. 
 Up, then, and go amongst them ; don't be timid ; 
 Look at them quietly a bit ; by and liy 
 Eespect will come, and healthy appetite. 
 So let us go. 
 
 How now ! not yet awake ? 
 Oh, you will sleep yet, will you ! Oh, you shirk, 
 You try and slink away ! You cannot, ch ? 
 Nay now, what folly 's this ? AVhy will you fool yovurself ? 
 Why ^viIl you walk about thus with your eyes shut ? 
 Treating for facts the self-made hues that flash 
 On tight-pressed piipils, which you know are not facts- 
 To use the undistorted light of the sun 
 Is not a crime ; to look straight out upon 
 The big plain things that stare one in the face 
 Does not contaminate ; to see pollutes not 
 What one must feel if one won't see, what is, 
 And will be too, howe'er we blink, and must 
 One way or other make itself observed. 
 Free walking 's better than being led about ; and 
 What will the blind man do, I wonder, if 
 Fome one should cut the string of his dog ? Just think ! 
 What could you do, if I should go away ? 
 
 Oh, you have paths of your own before you, have you ? 
 What shall it take to ? literature, no doubt ? 
 Novels, reviews ? or poems 1 if you please ! 
 The strong fresh gale of life will feel, no doubt, 
 The influx of your mouthful of soft air. 
 Well, make the most of that small stock of knowledge 
 You 've condescended to receive from me ; 
 That 's your best chance. Oh, you despise that ! Oh, 
 Prate then of passions you have known in dreams, 
 Of huge experience gathered by the eye ; 
 Be large of aspiration, pure in hope, 
 Sweet in fond longings, but in all things vague ; 
 Breathe out yoiu- dreamy scepticism, relieved 
 By snatches of old songs. People will like that, doubtless. 
 Or wiU you write about philosoj)hy ? 
 
 o 2
 
 196 LETTEES AND KEMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 For a waste far-oiF maybe overlooking 
 
 The frmtful is close by, live in metaphysic, 
 
 With transcendental logic fill your stomach, 
 
 Schematize joy, efEgiate meat and drink ; 
 
 Or, let me see, a mighty work, a volume. 
 
 The Complemental of the inferior Kant, 
 
 The Critic of Pure Practice, based upon 
 
 The Antinomies of the Moral Sense : for, look you, 
 
 "We cannot act without assuming x. 
 
 And at the same time ?/, its contradictory ; 
 
 Ergo, to act. People will buy that, doubtless. 
 
 Or you '11 perhaps teach youth (I do not question 
 
 Some downward turn you may find, some evasion 
 
 Of the broad higliAvay's glaring white ascent) ; 
 
 Teach youth, iu a small way, that is, always. 
 
 So as to have much time left you for yoiu:self ; 
 
 This you can't sacrifice, your leisure 's precious. 
 
 Heartily you will not take to anything ; 
 
 Whatever happen, don't I see you still, 
 
 Living no life at all ? Even as now 
 
 An o'ergrown baby, sucking at the dugs 
 
 Of instinct, dry long since. Come, come, you are old enough 
 
 For spoon-meat surely. 
 
 Will you go on thus 
 Until death end you ? if indeed it does. 
 For what it does, none knows. Yet as for you. 
 You'll hardly have the courage to die outright; 
 You'll somehow halve even it. Methinks I see you, 
 Through everlasting limbos of void time, 
 TwirHng and twiddling ineffectively. 
 And indeterminately swaying for ever. 
 Come, come, spoon-meat at any rate. 
 
 Well, well, 
 Twill not persecute you more, my friend. 
 Only do think, as I observed before, 
 What can you do, if I shoxild go away ? 
 
 Di. Is the hour here, then ? Is the minute come — 
 The irreprievable instant of stern time ?
 
 1850.] ARTHUR nUGH CLOUGII. 197 
 
 O for a few few grains in the running glass, 
 Or for some power to hold them ! O for a few 
 Of all that went so wastefully before ! 
 It must be then, e'en now. 
 
 Sp. (from within.) It must, it must, 
 
 'Tis common sense ! and human wit 
 Can claim no highor name than it. 
 Submit, submit! 
 
 Necessity I and who shall dare 
 
 Bring to her feet excuse or prayer ? 
 
 Beware, beware ! 
 
 Wo must, we must. 
 
 Howe'er we turn, and pause and tremble — 
 
 Howe'er we shrink, deceive, dissemble — 
 
 Whate'er our doubting, grief, disgust. 
 
 The hand is on us, and we must. 
 
 We must, we must. 
 
 'Tis common sense, and human wit 
 
 Can find no better name than it. 
 
 Submit, submit I 
 
 Scene VII. — At Torcello. Dipsychus alone. 
 
 Di. I had a vision ; was it in my sleep ? 
 And if it were, what then ? But sleep or wake, 
 I saw a great light open o'er my head ; 
 And sleep or wake, uplifted to that liglil. 
 Out of that light proceeding heard a voice 
 Uttering high Avords, which, whether sleep or wake, 
 In me were fixed, and in me must abide. 
 
 When the enemy is near thee. 
 
 Call on us ! 
 In oiu" hands we will upbear thee. 
 He shall neither scathe nor scare thee. 
 He shall fly thee, and shall fear thee. 
 
 Call on us !
 
 198 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [1850. 
 
 Call when all good friends have left thee, » 
 Of all good sights and sounds bereft thee ; 
 Call when hope and heart are sinking, 
 And the brain is sick with thinking, 
 
 Help, O help ! 
 Call, and following close behind thee 
 There shall haste, and there shall find tliee, 
 
 Help, sure help. 
 
 When the panic comes upon thee, 
 When necessity seems on thee, 
 Hope and choice have all foregone thee, 
 Fate and force are closing o'er thee. 
 And but one way stands before thee — 
 Call on us 1 
 
 O, and if thou dost not call, 
 Be but faithful, that is all. 
 Go right on, and close behind thee 
 There shall follow stiU and find thee, 
 Help, sure help. 
 
 Scene VIH. — In the Piazza. 
 
 Di. Not for thy service, thou imperious fiend ! 
 Not to do thy work, or the like of thine ; 
 Not to please thee, O base and fallen spirit ! 
 But One Most High, Most True, whom without thee 
 It seems I cannot. 
 
 O the misery 
 7^ That one must truck and pactise with the world 
 
 To gain the 'vantage-ground to assail it from ; 
 To set upon the Giant one must first, 
 O perfdy ! have eat the Giant's bread. 
 If I submit, it is bvit to gain time 
 And arms and stature : 'tis but to lie safe 
 Until the hour strike to arise and slay ; 
 'Tis the old story of the adder's brood 
 Feeding and nestling till the fangs be grown.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 199 
 
 Were it not nobler done, then, to act fair, 
 
 To accept the service "vvith the wages, do 
 
 Frankly the devil's work for the devil's pay ? 
 
 O, but another my allegiance holds 
 
 Inalienably his. How much soe'er 
 
 I might submit, it must be to rebel. 
 
 Submit then sullenly, that's no dishonour. 
 
 Yet I could deem it better too to starve 
 
 And die untraitored. O, who sent me, though ? 
 
 Sent me, and to do something — O hard master ! — 
 
 To do a treachery. But indeed 'tis done ; 
 
 I have already taken of the pay 
 
 And cm-st the payer ; take 1 nuist, curse too. 
 
 Alas ! the little strength that I possess 
 
 Derives, I think, of him. So still it is. 
 
 The timid child that clung unto her skirts, 
 
 A boy, will slight his mother, and, grown a man, 
 
 His father too. There 's Scripture too for that ! 
 
 Do we owe fathers nothing — mothers nought? 
 
 Is filial duty folly ? Yet He says, 
 
 ' He that loves father, mother, more than me ; ' 
 
 Yea, and ' the man his parents shall desert,' 
 
 The Ordinance says, * and cleave unto his wife.' 
 
 O man, behold thy wife, the hard naked world ; 
 
 Adam, accept thy Eve. 
 
 So still it is. 
 The tree exhausts the soil ; creepers kill it. 
 Their insects them : the lever finds its fulcrum 
 On what it then o'erthrows ; the homely spade 
 In labour's hand unscrupulously seeks 
 Its first momentum on the very clod 
 Which next will be upturned. It seems a law. 
 And am not I, though I but ill recaU 
 My happier age, a kidnapped child of heaven 
 Whom these imcircumcised Philistines 
 Have by foul play shorn, blinded, maimed, and kept 
 For what more glorious than to make them sport ? 
 Wait, then, wait, O my soul ! grow, grow, ye locks ! 
 Then perish they, and if need is, I too.
 
 200 LETTERS AND REMAIN'S OF [1850. 
 
 Sp. {aside). A truly admirable proceeding ! 
 Could there be finer special pleading 
 When scruples would be interceding ? 
 There 's no occasion I should stay ; 
 He is working out, his own queer way, 
 The sum I set him ; and this day 
 Will bring it, neither less nor bigger, 
 Exact to my predestined figure. 
 
 Scene IX. — In the Public Garden. 
 
 Di. Twenty-one past — twenty-five coming on ; 
 One-third of life departed, nothing done. 
 Out of the mammon of unrighteousness 
 That we make friends, the Scriptiire is express. 
 My Spirit, come, we will agree ; 
 Content, you '11 take a moiety. 
 
 Sp. A moiety, ye gods, he, he ! 
 
 Di. Three-quarters then ? O griping beast ! 
 Leave me a decimal at least. 
 
 Sp. Oh, one of ten ! to infect the nine, 
 And make the devil a one be mine ! 
 Oh, one ! to jib all day, God wot, 
 When all the rest woidd go full trot ! 
 One very little one, eh ? to doubt with. 
 Just to pause, think, and look about with ? 
 In course ! you counted on no less — 
 You thought it likely I 'd say yes ! 
 
 Di. Be it then thus — since that it must, it seems. 
 Welcome, world, henceforth ; and farewell dreams ! 
 Yet know, Mephisto, know, nor you nor I 
 Can in this matter either sell or buy ; 
 For the fee simple of this trifling lot 
 To you or me, trust mo, pcrtaineth not. 
 I can but render what is of my will.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 201 
 
 And behind it somcAvhat remainoth still. 
 O, yom- sole chance was in the childish mind 
 "Whose darkness dreamed that vows like this covdd bind ; 
 Thinking all lost, it made all lost, and brought 
 , In fact the ruin which had been but thought. 
 
 Thank Heaven (or you) that's past these many years, 
 And we have knowledge wiser than our fears. 
 So your poor bargain take, my man, 
 And make the best of it you can. 
 
 S]}. With reservations ! oh, how treasonable ! 
 "When I had let you off so reasonable. 
 However, I don't fear ; be it so ! 
 Brutus is honourable, I know ; 
 So mindful of the dues of others, 
 So thoughtful for his poor dear brothers, 
 So scrupulous, considerate, kind — 
 He wouldn't leave the devil behind 
 If he assiu'ed him he had claims 
 For his good company to hell-flames ! 
 No matter, no matter, the bargain 's made ; 
 And I for my part will not be afraid. 
 "With reservations ! oh ! ho, ho I * 
 
 But time, my friend, has yet to show 
 "Which of us two will closest fit 
 The proverb of the Biter Bit. 
 
 Di. Tell me thy name, now it is over, 
 
 Sp. Oh ! 
 
 "Why, Mephistophiles, you know — 
 At least you 've lately called me so. 
 Belial it was some days ago. 
 But take your pick ; I 've got a score — 
 Never a royal baby more. 
 For a brass plate upon a door 
 "Wliat think you of Cosmoci-ntnr ? 
 
 Di. Tovq KOCTfiOKparopac tov atwyog tovtov. 
 And that you are indeed, I do not doubt you.
 
 202 LETTERS AND REMAINS OP [1850. 
 
 Sp. Epliesians, aint it ? near the end 
 You dropt a word to spare your friend. 
 What follows, too, in application 
 Would be absurd exaggeration. 
 
 Di. The Power of this World ! hateful unto God. 
 
 Sj). Cosmarchon's shorter, but sounds odd: 
 One wouldn't like, even if a true devil, 
 To be taken for a vulgar Jew devil. 
 
 Di. Yet in all these things we — 'tis Scriptiu-e too — 
 Are more than conquerors, even over you. 
 
 Sp. Come, come, don't maunder any longer. 
 Time tests the weaker and the stronger ; 
 And we, without procrastination, 
 Must set, you know, to our vocation. 
 O goodness ! won't you find it pleasant 
 To own the positive and present ; 
 To see yourself like people round. 
 And feel your feet upon the ground ! {Exeunt.') 
 
 END OF DIPSTCHUS.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 203 
 
 EPILOGUE TO DIPSYCIIUS. 
 
 ' I don't very well understand what it 's all about,' said my 
 uncle. ' I won't say I didn't drop into a doze while the young 
 man was drivelling through his latter soliloquies. But there was 
 a great deal that was immeaning, vague, and involved ; and what 
 was most plain, was least decent and least moral.' 
 
 * Dear sir,' said I, ' says the proverb — " Needs must when the 
 devil drives ;" and if the devil is to speak — ' 
 
 ' Well,' said my uncle, ' why should he ? Nobody asked him. 
 Not that he didn't say much which if only it hadn't been for the 
 way he said it, and that it was he who said it, woiild have been 
 sensible enough.' 
 
 * But, sir,' said I, * perhaps he wasn't a devil after all. That 's 
 the beauty of the poem ; nobody can say. You see, dear sir, 
 the thing which it is attempted to represent is the conflict be- 
 tween the tender conscience and the world. Now, the over- 
 tender conscience will, of course, exaggerate the Avickedness of 
 the world ; and the Spirit in my poem may be merely the hypo- 
 thesis or subjective imagination formed — ' 
 
 * Oh, for goodness' sake, my dear boy,' interrupted my imcle, 
 * don't go into the theory of it. If you're wrong in it, it makes 
 bad worse ; if you 're right, yoii may be a critic, but you can't 
 be a poet. And then you know very well I don't understand all 
 those new words. But as for that, I quite agree that consciences 
 are much too tender in your generation — schoolboys' consciences, 
 too ! As my old friend the Canon says of the Westminster 
 students, " They 're all so pious." It 'sail Arnold's doing; he 
 spoilt the public schools.' 
 
 ' My dear imcle,' said I, ' how can so venerable a sexagenarian 
 utter so juvenile a paradox ? How often have I not heai'd you 
 lament the idleness and listlessness, the boorishness and vulgar 
 tyranny, the brutish manners alike, and minds
 
 204 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [l850. 
 
 ' Ah,' said my uncle, ' I may have fallen in occasionally with 
 the talk of the day ; but at seventy one begins to see clearer into 
 the bottom of one's mind. In middle life one says so many 
 things in the way of business. Not that I mean that the old 
 schools were perfect, any more than we old boys that were there. 
 But whatever else they Avere or did, they certainly were in 
 harmony with the world, and they certainly did not disquahfy 
 the country's youth for after-life and the country's service.' 
 
 * But, my dear sir, this bringing the schools of the country 
 into harmony with pubUc (jpiniou is exactly — ' 
 
 'Don't interrupt me with public opinion, my dear nephew; 
 you '11 quote me a leading article next. " Young men must be 
 young men," as the worthy head of your college Baid to me 
 touching a case of rustication. " My dear sir," answered I, " I 
 only wish to heaven they would be ; but as for my own 
 nephews, they seem to me a sort of hobbadi-hoy cherub, too big 
 to be innocent, and too simple for anything else. They 're full 
 of the notion of the world being so wicked, and of their taking a 
 higher line, as they call it. I only fear they '11 never take any 
 Ime at all." What is the true purpose of education ? Simply to 
 make plain to the young understanding the laws of the life they 
 will have to enter. For example — that lying won't do, thieving 
 still less; that idleness will get punished; that if they are cowards, 
 the whole world wiU be against them; that if they will have their 
 own way, they must fight for it. As for the conscience, mamma, I 
 take it — such as mammas are now-a-days, at any rate — has pro- 
 bably set that agoing fast enough already. What a blessing to see 
 her good little child come back a brave young devil-may-care ! ' 
 
 ' Exactly, my dear sir. As if at twelve or foiarteen a round- 
 about boy, with his three meals a day inside him, is likely to be 
 over- troubled with scruples.' 
 
 ' Put him through a strong course of confirmation and sacra- 
 ments, backed up with sermons and private admonitions, and 
 what is much the same as auricular confession, and really, my 
 dear nephew, I can't answer for it but he mayn't turn out as 
 great a goose as you — pardon me — were, about the age of eighteen 
 or nineteen.' 
 
 * But to have passed thromjli that, my dear sir ! surely that 
 can be no harm.'
 
 1850.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 205 
 
 ' I don't know. Yonr constitutions don't seem to recover it 
 quite. We did without these foolish measles well enough in my 
 time.' 
 
 ' Westminster had its Cowper, my dear sir ; and other schools 
 had theirs also, mute and inglorious, but surely not few.' 
 
 * All, ah ! the beginning of troubles.' — 
 
 * You see, my dear sir, you must not refer it to Arnold, at all 
 at all. Anything that Arnold did in this direction — ' 
 
 * Why, my dear boy, how often have I not heard from you, 
 how he used to attack offences, not as offences — the right view — 
 against discipline, biit as sin, heinous guilt, I don't know what 
 beside ! Why didn't he flog them and hold his tongue ? Flog 
 them he did, but why preach 7 ' 
 
 ' If he did err in this way, sir, which I hardly think, I ascribe 
 it to the spirit of the time. The real cause of the evil you com- 
 plain of, which to a certain extent I admit, was, I take it, the 
 religious movement of the last century, beginning with Wes- 
 leyanism, and culminating at last in Puseyism. This over- 
 excitation of the religious sense, resulting in this irrational, 
 almost animal irritability of conscience, was, in many ways, as 
 foreign to Arnold as it is proper to — ' 
 
 * Well, well, my dear nephew, if you like to make a . theory 
 of it, pray write it out for yourself nicely in full ; but your poor 
 old uncle does not like theories, and is moreover sadly sleepy.' 
 
 ' Good night, dear uncle, good night. Only let me say you 
 six more verses.'
 
 206 LETTERS k^D REMAINS OP 
 
 DIPSYCHUS CONJINUED. 
 
 A FKAGMENT. 
 
 \^An interval of tliirty years.'] 
 Scene I. — In London. Dipsyclms in his Study. 
 
 Dipsychus. O God ! O Gk»d ! and must I still go on 
 Doing this Avork — I know not, hell's or thine ; 
 And these rewards receiving — sure not tlune ; 
 The adulation of a foolish crowd, 
 Half foolish and half greedy ; upright judge — 
 Lawyer acute — the Mansfield and the Hale 
 In one united to bless modern courts. 
 O God ! O God ! According to the law, 
 With solemn face to solemn sentence fit. 
 Doing the justice that is but half just ; 
 Punishing wrong that is not truly wrong ; 
 Administering, alas, Gx)d ! not Thy law. 
 
 {Enoch at the door.) 
 
 What ? Is the hour already for the Court ? 
 Come in. Now, Lord Chief Justice, to thy work. 
 
 {Enter a Servant.) 
 Serv. My lord, a woman begging to be seen. 
 
 Di. A woman begging to be seen ? What 's this ? 
 'Tis not the duty of your post, my friend, 
 To give admittance on the busy days 
 Of a hard labourer in this great world 
 To all poor creatures begging to be seen. 
 Something unusual in it ? Bid her wait 
 In the room below, I'll see her as I pass. 
 Is the horse there ?
 
 ARTHUR HUGH clough. 207 
 
 Serv, He 's coming round, my lord. 
 
 Di. Say I will see her as I pass. {Exit Servant.) 
 
 I have but one way left ; but that one way 
 On which once entered, there is no return ; 
 And as there 's no return, no looking back, 
 Amidst the smoky tiimult of this field 
 Whereon, enlisted once, in arms we stand, 
 Nor knonv, nor e'en remotely can divine 
 The sense, or purport, or the probable end, 
 One only guide to our blind work we keep. 
 To obey orders, and to fight it out. 
 
 Some hapless sad petitioner, no doubt, 
 With the true plaintiveness of real distress. 
 Twisting her misery to a marketable lie. 
 To waste my close-shorn interval of rest. 
 She came upon me in my weaker thoughts, 
 Those weaker thoughts that still indeed recur, 
 But come, my servants, at a word to go. 
 
 {Enter Woman.') 
 
 "V\Tiat is it ? what have you to say to me ? 
 Who are you ? 
 
 Worn. Once you knew me well enough. ■ 
 
 DL Oh, you ! I had been told that you were dead. 
 
 Worn. So your creatm-es siiid ; 
 
 But I shall live, I think, till you die too. 
 
 Di. What do you want ? Money, subsistence, bread ? 
 
 Worn. I wanted bread, money, all things, 'tis true, 
 But wanted, above all things, to see you. 
 
 Di. This cannot be. What has been done is o'er. 
 You have no claim or right against me more ; 
 I have dealt justly Avith you to the uttermost;. 
 
 Worn. I did not come to say you were unjust — 
 I came to see you only.
 
 208 LETTEES AND KEMAINS OF 
 
 Di. Hear me now. 
 
 Remember, it was not the marriage vow, 
 Nor promise e'er of chaste fidelity, 
 That joined us thirty years ago in a tie 
 Which I, I think, scarce sought. It was not I 
 That took your innocence ; you spoiled me of mine. 
 And yet, as though the vow had been divine, 
 Was I not faithful ? Were you so to me ? 
 Had you been white in spotless purity. 
 Could I have clung to you more faithfully ? 
 I left you, after wrongs I blush Avith shame 
 E'en now through all my fifty years to name, 
 I left you ; yet I stinted still my ease, — 
 Curtailed my pleasures — toil still extra toil, — 
 To repay you for what you never gave. 
 Is it not true ? 
 
 Worn. Go on, say all and more. 
 
 Upon this body, as the basis, lies 
 The ladder that has raised you to the skies. 
 
 Di. Is that so much ? am I indeed so high ? 
 Am I not rather 
 
 The slave and servant of the wretched world. 
 Liveried and finely dressed — yet all the same 
 A menial and lacquey seeking place 
 For hire, and for his hire's sake doing work ? 
 
 Worn. I do not know ; you have wife and child, I know, 
 Domestic comfort and a noble name. 
 And people speak in my ears too your praise. 
 O man, O man ! do you not know in your heart 
 It was for this you came to me — 
 It was for this I took you to my breast ? 
 O man, man, man ! 
 
 You come to us with your dalliance in the street, 
 You pay us with your miserable gold, 
 You do not know how in the
 
 ARTHUR HUGH clough. 209 
 
 Di. {looks at his watch.) You must go now. Justice 
 calls me elsewhere ; 
 Justice — might keep you here. 
 You may retiu-n again ; stay, let me see — 
 Six weeks to-morrow you shall see me again ; 
 Now you must go. Do you need money ? here, 
 It is your due : take it, that you may live ; 
 And see me, six weeks from to-morrow, elsewhere. 
 
 Worn. I -will not go ; 
 
 You must stay here and hear me, or I shall die ! 
 It were ill for you that I should. 
 
 Di. What! shall the nation wait? 
 
 Woman, if I have wronged you, it was for good — 
 Good has come of it. Lo, I have done some work. 
 Over the blasted and the blackened spot 
 Of our unhappy and unhallowed deed 
 I have raised a mausoleum of such acts 
 As in this world do honour unto me, 
 But in the next to thee. 
 
 Worn. Hear me — I cannot go ! 
 
 Di. It cannot be ; the court, the nation waits. 
 Is not the work, too, yours ? 
 
 Wo7n. I go, to die this night ! 
 
 Di. I cannot help it. Duty lies here. Depart ! 
 
 Wo7n. Listen ; before I die, one word ! In old times 
 You called me Pleasure — my name now is Guilt. 
 
 Scene II. — In Westminster Hall. 
 
 1st Barrister. They say the Lord Chief Justice is unwell ; 
 Did you observe how, after that decision 
 Wliich all the world admired so, suddenly 
 He became pale and looked in the air and staggered. 
 As if some phantom floated on his eyes ? 
 He is a strange man.
 
 210 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF 
 
 Bar. 2. He is unwell, tliere is no doubt of that, 
 But why or how is quite another question. 
 It is odd to find so stern and strong a man 
 Give way before he 's sixty. Many a mind, 
 Apparently less vigorous than his, 
 Has kept its full judicial faculty 
 And sat the woolsack past threescore and ten. 
 
 Bar. 3. No business to be done to-day. Have you heard 
 The Chief Justice is lying dangerously ill ? 
 Apoplexy, paralysis. Heaven knoAvs what — some seizure. 
 
 Bar. 1 . Heavens ! that will be a loss indeed ! 
 
 . Bar. 2. A loss 
 
 "Which will be some one's gain, however. 
 
 Bar. 1. Not the nation's. 
 
 If this sage Chancellor give it to 
 
 But is he really stire to die, do you think ? 
 
 Bar. 3. A very sudden and very alarming attack. 
 And now you know to the fiill as much as I, 
 Or, as I fancy, any lawyer here. 
 
 Bar. 2. Do you know anything of his early life ? 
 
 Bar. 1. My father knew him at coUege: a reading man, 
 The quietest of the quiet, shy and timid. 
 And college houoiu:s past. 
 No one believed he ever would do anything. 
 
 Bar. 2. He was a moral sort of prig, I've heard. 
 Till he was twenty-five ; and even then 
 He never entered into life as most men. 
 That is the reason why he fails so soon. 
 It takes high feeding and a well-taught conscience 
 To breed your mighty hero of the law. 
 So much the worse for him ; so much the better 
 For all expectants now. 
 
 Bar. 3. For for one.
 
 ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 211 
 
 Bar. 2. Well, there '11 be several changes, as I think. 
 Not that I think the shock of new promotion 
 Will vibrate quite perceptibly do\vn here. 
 There was a story that I once was told, 
 Some woman that they used to tease him with. 
 
 Bar. 1. He grew too stern for teasing before long ; 
 A man with greater power of what I think 
 They call, in some new sense of the word, Eepulsion, 
 I think I never saw in all my life. 
 
 Bar. 2. A most foibidding man in private life, 
 I've always heard. What 's this new news? 
 
 Bar. 4. The Lord Chief Justice has resigned. 
 
 Bar. 1, 2, 3. Is it true? 
 
 Ideally ? Quito certain ? 
 
 Bar. 4. Publicly announced. 
 
 You 're quite behind. Most probably ere this 
 The Times has got it in a new edition. 
 
 Scene III. — Dipsyelms in his own house, alone. 
 
 Di. She will come yet, I think, although she said 
 She would go hence and die ; I cannot tell. 
 Should 1 have made the nation's business wait, 
 That I might listen to an old sad tale 
 Uselessly iterated ? Ah — ah me ! 
 I am grown weak indeed ; those old black thoughts 
 No more as servants at my bidding go. 
 But as stern tyrants look mc in tlie face. 
 And mock my reason's inefficient hand 
 That sways to wave them hence. 
 
 Serv. You rung, my lord ? 
 
 Di. Come here, my friend. The woman, 
 
 A beggai' woman, whom six weeks ago, 
 
 p 2
 
 212 LETTERS AND REMAINS OP 
 
 As yoTi remember, you admitted to me, 
 
 You may admit again if she returns. \_Exit Sei'vant. 
 
 Will she return ? or did she die ? I searched 
 
 Newspaper columns through to find a trace 
 
 Of some poor corpse discovered in the Thames, 
 
 Weltering in filth or stranded on the shoals. 
 
 ' You called me Pleasure once, I now am Guilt.' 
 
 Is that her voice ? — 
 
 ' Once Pleasure and now Guilt — and after this 
 
 Guilt evermore.' I hear her voice again. 
 
 ' Once Guilt, but now ' — I know not what it says • — 
 
 Some word in some strange language, that my ears 
 
 Have never heard, yet seem to long to know. 
 
 * Once Pleasure and now Guilt, and after this ' — 
 
 What does she say ? . . . .
 
 ARTHUR HUGH CLOUCn. 213 
 
 EASTEE DAY. 
 
 II. 
 
 So in tlie sinful streets abstracted and alone 
 
 I with my secret sell" held commiuiing of mine ovm. 
 
 So in the southern city spake the tongue 
 Of one that somewhat overAvildly sung ; 
 But in a later hour I sat and heard 
 Another voice that spake, — another gi-aver word. 
 
 Weep not, it bade, whatever hath been said, 
 Though He be dead, He is not dead : 
 
 In the true creed 
 
 He is yet risen indeed ; 
 
 Christ is yet risen. 
 
 Weep not beside His tomb, 
 
 Ye women vmto whom 
 
 He was'great comfort and yet greater grief; 
 
 Nor ye, ye faithful few that wont with Him to roam. 
 
 Seek sadly what lor Him ye left, go hopeless to your home. 
 
 Nor ye despair, ye sharers yet to be of their belief ; 
 
 Though He be dead. He is not dead, 
 
 Nor gone though fled. 
 
 Not lost though vanished ; 
 
 ThoTigh He return not, though 
 
 He lies and moulders low : 
 
 In the true creed 
 
 He is yet risen indeed ; 
 
 Christ is yet risen. 
 
 Sit if ye will, sit down upon the ground, 
 
 Yet not to weep and wail, but calmly look around. 
 
 Whate'er befell. 
 
 Earth is not hell ;
 
 214 LETTERS AiS'D REMAINS OF 
 
 Now, too, as "when it first began, 
 
 Life is yet life, and man is man. 
 
 For all that breathe beneath the heaven's high cope, 
 
 Joy with grief mixes, with despondence hope. 
 
 Hope conqiiers coAvardice, joy grief; 
 
 Or at the least, faith unbelief. 
 
 Though dead, not dead ; 
 
 Not gone, though fled ; 
 
 Not lost, though vanished : 
 
 In the great gospel and ti-ue creed, 
 
 He is yet risen indeed ; 
 
 Christ is yet risen. •
 
 1849.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH, 215 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 LETTERS, 1849—1852. 
 
 This chapter contains letters written between the years 1849 
 and 1852, from the time when A. H. Cloiigh first settled at 
 University Hall until he quitted England for America. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 University Hall, London : October 29, 1849, 
 Well, here I am, and with Palgrave, who is breakfasting 
 with me in my hall, where we all — i. e. myself and my 
 eleven undergj-aduates (that should be thirty, and I hope 
 will be some day) — breakfast and dine daily. Here, I take 
 it, I shall remain for some little time ; though even as you 
 talk of coming over here, so I, believing that I shall be 
 kicked out for mine heresies' sake, and doubtful of success 
 in literary doings, have sometimes looked at my feet and 
 considered the antipodes, reflecting however much on the 
 natin-al conservatising character of our years after thirty. 
 As I say, I have no confidence in my tenure. For intoler- 
 ance, Tojn, is not confined to the cloisters of Oxford, 
 or the pews of the establishment, but comes up, like the 
 tender herh, partout, and is indeed in a manner indigenous 
 in the heart of the family-man of the middle classes. 
 
 Do we not work best by digging deepest ? by avoiding 
 polemics, and searching to display the real thing ? If only 
 one could do the latter ! — EmersoQ is an example, and also
 
 216 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. X. 
 
 Carlyle, and, in his kind, M. A. Yet sKaaros sx^i ro kavrov 
 ^(apKTua and ov iravrss ^((apovcn tovtov tov \6yov. Let 
 
 B s delight to bark and bite, if indeed God has made 
 
 them so. 
 
 Interrupted by my one pupil — for you observe that un- 
 dergraduates all attend the University College professors, 
 and I only keep a hall, as an M.A. of old times did in the 
 days of professors at Oxford — and out of the eleven only 
 have one pupil, — I now resume to say farewell. 
 
 To F. T. Palgrave, Esq. 
 
 [On receiving a present of Goethe's works.] 
 
 UniTersity Hall, London: November 18, 1849. 
 
 Thanks many, specially perhaps for the note. I had a 
 great mind to say to you, * As soon as you give me the 
 Groethe, we will cut.' Let us suppose that done, and look 
 forward tout-de-suite to a recommencement — 'Cut and 
 come again ' being the true motto for all proper inter- 
 course. I think the best way of looking at a present is as 
 a thinof to be much more valuable some time hereafter 
 than just now; it is more properly a future than a pre- 
 sent. Cast thy Goethe upon the waters ; give with thy 
 left hand, and let not thy right hand of friendship ask 
 what thy left doeth. 
 
 And so on, whereof enough. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 UniTersity Hall, London : January 3, 1850. 
 Here I am, just about to recommence the crambe repetita 
 of pjsdagogy after a brief fortnight's holiday. Of what use 
 is paedagogy ? Some, I suppose ; and as much probably as 
 any other occupation one is in the way of getting har- 
 nessed to. Cast, therefore, thy syntax on the waters. But 
 in the meantime scaeXOs sis to rafjuLelov aov, koX KXsiaas 
 TTjp dvpav aov, k.t.X.
 
 1»50.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 217 
 
 There is a great blessing', I sometimes think, in being 
 set down amongst uncongenial people, for me at least who 
 am over-provocable. Consider the coal upon the fireplace, 
 how it came to blaze thus : was it not concealed and 
 compressed for long world-ages, never expecting to see 
 the light again, far less that in its own self there was 
 light, heat, and joyfulness, having no sort of imagination 
 that it should be transmuted into, or shall we say, wooed, 
 wedded, and incorporated with the subtle atmosphere 
 itself. Consider, I say, the long preparation of this 
 strange marriage of coal and oxygenic air, and say, if you 
 can, moreover, when was there most real worthiness of 
 existence, in the grimy or the blazy period, in the impri- 
 sonment or deliverance of the gases, the incarnation or 
 apotheosis, the suppression or expression, &c. &c. &c. ? 
 
 Sunday, January 27. 
 As in old times at breakfast in Oriel, so here for an 
 afternoon walk and dinner I am waiting for M. and, I 
 believe, E. They tell me you like the ' Bothie ; ' it was a 
 pleasant anticijDation to me that you would, while it was 
 yet in swaddling-clothes. They have reprinted me at 
 Cambridge, Massachusetts ! 
 
 To a Friend. 
 
 [In answer to some criticisms on ' Amours de Voyage.'] 
 
 Good heavens ! don't be afraid. You are a very gentle 
 beast, and of a good conscience, and roar me like any 
 sucking-dove. Parturiunt montes — you are not half 
 trenchant enough. Yet your criticism is not exactly what 
 I wanted. What I want assurance of is in the way of 
 execution rather than conception. If I were only half as 
 sure of the bearableness of the former as I am of the pro- 
 priety of the latter, I would publish at once. Gott und 
 Teufel ! my friend, you don't suppose all that comes from 
 myself T assure you it is extremely not so.
 
 218 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. X, 
 
 You're a funt)y creature, my dear old fellow : if one 
 don't sing you a ballant, or read you a philosophic ser- 
 monette, if one don't talk about the gowans or faith, you're 
 not pleased. However, I believe that the execution of this 
 is so poor, that it makes the conception a fair subject of 
 disgust. You cannot possibly be too severe and truculent 
 about the execution, and I agree quite as to the correct- 
 ness (which is the only question) of what you say ; except 
 that I am not sure that scenes and scenery would exactly 
 improve the matter. 
 
 But do you not, in the conception, find any final strength 
 of mind in the unfortunate fool of a hero ? I have no inten- 
 tion of sticking up for him, but certainly I did not mean 
 him to go off into mere prostration and defeat. Does the 
 last part seem utterly sceptical to your sweet faithful 
 soul? 
 
 Your censure of the conception almost provoked me into 
 publishing, because it showed how washy the world is in 
 its confidences. There is a Roland for your Oliver, my 
 boy. But I probably shan't publish, for fear of a row with 
 my committee. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 June 19, 1850. 
 
 It continues to strike me how ignorant you, and I, and 
 other young men of our set are. Actual life is unknown 
 to an Oxford student, even though lie is not a mere 
 Puseyite, and goes on jolly reading-parties. 
 
 Enter the arena of your brethren, and go not to your 
 grave without knowing what common merchants and 
 solicitors, much more sailors and coalheavers, are ac- 
 quainted with. Ignorance is a poor land of innocence. 
 The world is wiser than the wise, and as innocent as the 
 innocent ; and it has long been found out what is the best 
 way of taking things. ' The earth,' said the great traveller.
 
 1850.] ARTHUR IIUGH CLOUGTT. 219 
 
 * is mnch the same wherever we go ; ' and the changes of 
 position which women and students tremble and shilly- 
 shally before, leave things much as they found them. 
 Cculurii non animum mutant. The winter comes and 
 destroys all, but in the spring the old grasses come up all 
 the greener. 
 
 Let us not sit in a corner and mope, and think ourselves 
 clever, for our comfort, while the room is full of dancing 
 and cheerfulness. The sum of the whole matter is this : 
 Whatsoever your hand findeth to do, do it without fiddle- 
 faddling ; for there is no experience, nor pleasure, nor pain, 
 nor instruction, nor anything else in the grave whither 
 thou goest. When you get to the end of this life, you 
 won't find another ready-made, in which you can do with- 
 out effort what you were meant to do with effort here. 
 
 To R. W. Emerson, Esq. 
 
 University Hall, Gordon Square: July 22, 1850. 
 
 Why I have let six months pass away without acknow- 
 ledging the copy of your ' Representative Men,' which I 
 received and read so thankfully, I do not know ; unless it 
 be that I was not willing to put an end at once to the 
 relation of debtor which resulted. To have a distinct 
 claim on one for a letter constitutes a sort of connection, 
 even with the Atlantic between us. 
 
 I am here at the end of my first session in London, not 
 much the worse, nor much the wiser. I am not sorry 
 myself to be where I am : in very many ways, it is a 
 greater seclusion than the academic shades you took plea- 
 sure in looking at, at Oxford. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 University Hall : July 23, 1850. 
 I am rejoiced to find you busy and in mediis rebus so 
 soon. Your population of course won't be very beautiful
 
 220 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. X. 
 
 and attractive, but all the truer to fact in general for 
 having plenty of alloy, and that is a comfort to a certain 
 extent ; earthly paradises being mostly milk-and-watery, 
 and not long to last. Van Diemen's Land with its con- 
 vict basis has got at any rate something of the tantum 
 radice ad Tartara, to begin with, and quantum vertice 
 may come. In new colonies, I suppose, no amount of 
 bishops and archdeacons can resist the general indiffer- 
 entist tendencies of the commercial English middle-class, 
 to whom the world is committed for the present. 
 
 I find, meantime, even the small amount of business 
 which I have to do in this place beneficial to me, even the 
 bank-books and cash-accounts. 
 
 To T. Arnold, Esq. 
 
 University Hall, Gordon Square : March 16, 1851. 
 I sent you five or six copies of the poem you were so 
 friendly as to like so well. By the time they reached you, 
 you would probably have been properly disenchanted, 
 with a view to which contingency I fortified them by two 
 Idylls of a truer pastoral poet or poetess. These you may 
 accept, for the lack of better, as my wedding-present. 
 The following you may accept or not, as you please : 
 
 On grass, on gravel, in the sun, 
 And now beneath the shade. 
 They went in pleasant Kensington. 
 
 Let it remind you of the ancient Kensington Gardens- 
 Fresh from the oven, it is, I assure you, tihi primo con- 
 fisum. I am still resident in Gordon Square, and very 
 little certain whether I shall or not continue so. The 
 work does, however, well enough. 
 
 May 16, 1851. 
 
 This has lingered, I believe, chiefly because I desired to 
 add some self-introducing phrase to your wife, the precise 
 form of which was difficult ; so pray give what you think
 
 1852.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 221 
 
 becoming an ancient ally of her husband's — best wishes 
 — submission ? For to a certain extent, even at this 
 distance, old friends have to make their graceful with- 
 drawal. It seems to me at any rate on this side the 
 water, that a wife is a sort of natural enemy to a man's 
 friends. 
 
 I, like you, have jumped over a ditch for the fun of 
 the experiment, and would not be disinclined to be once 
 again in a highway with my brethren and companions. 
 But Spartam nactus es, banc orna. And you, I should 
 think, though amongst the poor sinful blackguards of 
 yearly multiplying convicts and convictidse, may make 
 some pretty thing out of your Sparta. 
 
 Nothing is very good anywhere, I am afraid. I could 
 have gone cracked last year with one thing or another, I 
 think, but the wheel comes round. 
 
 To . 
 
 London : January 1852. 
 The single life, according to the doctrine of compensa- 
 tion, has some superiorities, as, for example, that of being 
 more painful, which is a state of things that offers but 
 little opportunity for elevated action,and may be considered 
 a temptation to the aspiring temper. To live in domestic 
 comfort, toiling in some business not in itself of any great 
 use, merely for the sake of bread for the household, does 
 look at times a little ignoble, or at any rate unchivalrous. 
 The Sydney project had some little relish of chivalry in it. 
 What I looked forward to originally, in case of not going to 
 Sydney, was unmarried poverty and literary work. 
 
 To . 
 
 London : January 1852. 
 People who have got at all accustomed to write as 
 authors are so incapable of writing, or even speaking, 
 except ' in character,' and will run through a whole list of
 
 222 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. X. 
 
 dramatis personse as occasion occurs, without giving you a 
 chance of seeing what- they really are off the stage ; if 
 they try to be sincere, it often makes bad worse. There ! 
 that is one of the mischiefs and miseries of authorship 
 which deters me. Ten years hence, perhaps ! which would 
 not be at all too late ; but if never, no matter. I have 
 myself been rather spoilt by somewhat o^;er-quicksighted 
 men, and thus have got into a perverse habit of hiding. 
 Have you looked at my sometime pamphlet ? * I should 
 not write it now, you must know, I am wiser ; but it 
 meant something at the time. 
 
 Pictorial-ness, yes ; that, when it becomes a wonderful 
 vision of all things, is the ' Spirit of the Universe.' The 
 pictorial attitude is not a good one for one's continuous 
 life, but for a season it transports one out of all reality. 
 
 February 21, 1852. 
 I may perhaps be idle now ; but when I was a boy, 
 between fourteen and twenty-two throughout, I may say, 
 you don't know how much regular drudgery I went 
 through. Holidays after holidays, when I was at school, 
 after a week or so of recreation, which very rarely came in 
 an enjoyable form to me, the whole remaining five or six 
 weeks I used to give to regular work at fixed hours. That 
 wasn't so very easy for a schoolboy, spending holidays, not at 
 home, but with uncles, aunts, and cousins. All this, and 
 whatever work, less rigorous though pretty regular, that 
 has followed since during the last ten years, has been, so 
 far as external results go, perhaps a mere blank and 
 waste ; nothing very tangible has come of it ; but still it is 
 some justification to me for being less strict with myself 
 now. Certainly, as a boy, I had less of boyish enjoyment 
 of any kind whatever, either at home or at school, than 
 nine-tenths of boys, at any rate of boys who go to school, 
 college, and the like ; certainly, even as a man I think I 
 
 * Ou Retreuchmcnt at Oxford.
 
 1852.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUOn. 223 
 
 have earned myself some title to live for some little in- 
 terval, I do not say in enjoyment, but without immediate 
 devotion to particular objects, on matters as it were of 
 business. 
 
 A bad style is as bad as bad manners, and manners you 
 admit do mean something. Things really ill-written it 
 does one a little harm to read. Would you forgive balk 
 music because it was well meant? discord because con- 
 cordantly intended ? 
 
 Sunday Morning, London : March 1852. 
 
 Shall I begin by recommending patience about all ques- 
 tions, moral, mystical, &c. ? It is not perhaps simply one's 
 business in life to ' envisager ' the most remarkable pro- 
 blems of humanity and the universe simply for the sole 
 benefit of having so done; still we may be well assured that 
 only time can work out any sort of answer to them for us. 
 * Solvitur ambulando.' Meantime, in defence of silence, 
 I have always an impression that what is taken to talk 
 with is lost to act with ; you cannot speak your wisdom 
 and have it. 
 
 It is rain, rain, rain, and universal umbrellas travelling 
 churchward. I meant to get another walk to Chelsea to 
 see Mrs. Carlyle ; but the waters are covering the face of the 
 New Road, and the omnibuses, doubtless, would be full. 
 
 All things become clear to me by work more than by 
 anything else. Any kind of drudgery will help one out of 
 the most uncommon either sentimental or speculative 
 perplexity ; the attitude of work is the only one in which 
 one can see things properly. One may be afraid some- 
 times of destroying the beauty of one's dreams by doing 
 anything, losing sight of what perhaps one will not be able 
 to recover : it need not be so. 
 
 As to mysticism, to go along with it even counter to 
 fact and to reason may sometimes be tempting, though to 
 do so would take me right away ofi" the terra firma of
 
 224 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. X. 
 
 practicable duty and business into the limbo of unrevealed 
 things, the forbidden terra incognita of vague liopes and 
 hypothetical aspirations. But when I lose my legs, I lose 
 my head ; I am seized with spiritual vertigo and meagrims 
 unutterable. 
 
 It seems His newer will 
 rf' We should not think at all of Him, but turn, 
 
 And of the world that He has given us make 
 
 What best we may. 
 
 What we are we know (says the beloved Apostle, does 
 he not?) or at any rate, can make some sort of guess, 
 which is much more than we can about what we shall be : 
 howbeit we know, or rather hope, that if we have done 
 something here, it will count for something there; nor will 
 those be nothing to each other there that have consorted 
 faithfully here. 
 
 Lay not your hand upon the veil of the inner sanctuary, 
 to try and lift it up ; go, thou proselyte of the gate, and do 
 thy service where it is permitted thee. Is it for nothing, 
 but for the foolish souls of men to be discontented and 
 repine and whimper at, that He made this very tolerably 
 beautiful earth, with its logic and its arithmetic, and its 
 exact and punctual multifarious arrangements, &c. &c. ? 
 Is it the end and object of all finite creation that 
 sentimental human simpletons may whine about their 
 infinite longings ? Was it ordered that twice two should 
 make four, simply for the intent that boys and girls 
 should be cut to the heart that they do not make five ? 
 Be content, when the veil is raised, perhaps they will 
 make five I who knows ? 
 
 April 3. 
 
 As for the objects of life, heaven knows ! they differ with 
 one's opportunities. (a) Work for others — political, 
 mechanical, or as it may be. (b) Personal relations, (c) 
 Making books, pictures, music, &c. {d) Living in one's
 
 18 ;2.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 225 
 
 shell. ' They also serve avIio only stand and wait.' I 
 speak as a philosopher, otherwise fool ; but you may look 
 at things under some such heads. 
 
 It is odd that I was myself in a most Eomanizing frame 
 of mind yesterday, which I very rarely am. I was attracted 
 by the spirituality of it. But what has hitherto always 
 come before me as the truth is rather that — 
 
 It seems His newer will, 
 We should not tliiiik at all of Ilim, but turn. 
 And of tlie world that He has given us make 
 What best we can. 
 
 To 
 
 Eugljy : April 11. 
 
 I am enjoying myself here. Jowett, the great Balliol 
 tutor, is here. This morning I walked out into broad and 
 breezy pasture-fields, eastwards, looking towards Naseby, 
 where perhaps we shall ride to-morrow. Eugby, you know, 
 lies not far from Naseby field, near the source of the Shake- 
 spearian Avon ; a branch railway to Peterborough runs up 
 through the wide pasture-slopes, pretty well past the very 
 sources. We are on the blue lias formation, from which, 
 westward, you pass at Coventry into the red sandstone, 
 which stretches away to Liverpool ; while eastward, within 
 four miles, the Northamptonshire villages are all built of 
 their native yellow-brown oolite. The Nortliamptoushire 
 peasantry, also, in their knee-breeches and fustian gaiters, 
 have a yellow-brown oolitish appearance. 
 
 In the Warwickshire physigonomy I can fre(|uently 
 detect the dross of Shakespeare. You have another bright, 
 light-haired, sanguine, less bilious type, which perhaps 
 comes of the Northmen — for our villages all hereabouts, 
 Barby, Kilsby, Buckby, Naseby, including Rugby itself, 
 have the characteristic Danish by termination. 
 
 Q
 
 2-26 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. X. 
 
 April 13. 
 
 Well, we went our long ride : not quite to Naseby, but 
 to tbe Hem plow Hills, a little short of it, starting at 2.30 
 and returning at 7. All through fields with chains of gates, 
 broad grassy swells, where the Northamptonshire beef is 
 fed, or used to be, for London markets ; Shairp on his 
 himter, the pride of his heart, leading the way, and 
 opening the gates, and commanding in chief. A party of 
 six we were — two ladies, Mrs. Arnold and Miss Shairp ; 
 Conington was one. At 7.30 we reassembled, to dine 
 with Shairp. Our course was eastward towards the sources 
 of Avon ; the wells of Avon are just below Naseby village, 
 I belike. The whole country is a sheet of pasture (rather 
 brown at present), over which you may well imagine King 
 Charles and his Cavaliers riding south-westward from Leices- 
 ter, to run their heads against the wall of Cromwell's army. 
 The country is singularly destitute of gentlemen's 
 houses, and has a solitary unoccupied appearance, with its 
 wide fields and its field-roads. A railway, however, with a 
 single line of rails, and, I believe, three trains a day, lookijig 
 quite afraid of what it is doing, runs up through them from 
 Rugby to Stamford. 
 
 To 
 
 London: May 24. 
 
 The flowers are a great deal too beautiful for me, and I 
 a great deal too unbeautiful for them. However, here 
 they are now, standing in my unartificial arrangement, 
 glorifying this unfortunate apartment. I have not failed 
 to find out the scarlet azalea. I have put it in a wine-glass 
 with the lily, which, after all, is my chief friend. 
 
 How beautiful the falhng leaves of flowers are ! not 
 decayed, not even as yet decaying, but ripe, full to their 
 fullest of growth and adolescence. I cannot prevail upon 
 myself to empty the wine-glass, the surface of whose water
 
 1852.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGU. 227 
 
 is covered with fallen geranium petals, though there are 
 still buds enough opening and opened to make a fair show. 
 The kalmias still survive; they will perhaps last till 
 Thursday — sufficiently, at least, to satisfy the eyes of a 
 lover of falling petals. 
 
 People should not be very sceptical about things in 
 general. ' Wen Gott betriigt, ist wohl betriigen.' There 
 are plenty of good things in the world, and good persons. 
 Fitness is a great deal, but truth is a great deal more. If 
 things are good, we ought to accept them as such ; looking 
 at them, and not thinking of our own fitness. 
 
 To . 
 
 Weybridge : July 30, 1852. 
 
 Last nic^ht I came do^vn here with Farrer, and walked 
 straioht away from the station to Chertsey. We went to St. 
 Anne's Hill, where there is a fine view; from it you can see 
 Eichmondand Betchworth beeches: thence across the ferry 
 to Laleham, where Arnold lived before he went to Rugby, and 
 where I had never been. We found our way to the house he 
 used to occupy — a solidish red-brick place, with a narrow 
 turn for a carriage in front, and a tolerable garden along- 
 side : it is unoccupied. We also looked in at the church 
 window, and made out the pulpit whence he used to ful- 
 minate, and saw four gravestones in the churchyard over his 
 mother, two sisters, and another, to me unknown, relation. 
 We got back through the meadows only about 9 r.M. 
 
 And this morning I have been to Chobham. I took 
 the Ordnance Map, and walked, I should say, about eight 
 miles, by road and by common, through sun and shade, 
 specially the former, and about half-past twelve found 
 myself seated under a beech avenue, looking out over 
 wide heathy banks to the westward, and to the southward 
 into a sort of wide, tolerably rich, and treey upper valley ; 
 the avenue leading to iron gates at the south-east end; 
 
 q2
 
 228 LETTEKS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. X. 
 
 some clumps of Scotch firs on the heath to the north, 
 visible through the opposite rows of beeches. Keally a 
 very pretty place indeed. I walked down under the house, 
 and on into the village, and refreshed myself at a tavern 
 called the Sun, and walked on three miles to the railway, 
 and so home. Certainly Chobham is a remarkably nice 
 place — so green and rich, close to the very edge of the wide 
 waste heath, and looking abroad far over all the expanse 
 from Bagshot to Epsom, and I know not what more. The 
 distance was dull in the heat of noon. 
 
 There is a letter from Emerson, with general encourage- 
 ment towards America, and urging a preliminary visit by 
 ' first ship.' 
 
 To R. W. Emerson, Esq. 
 
 London : Aiigust 6, 1852. 
 Your letter came, a welcome surprise to me, on Saturday 
 last. JNIy best way of thanking you is, I believe, simply 
 to accept your kind proposal. You will, I dare say, not 
 refuse to recognise thanks in that shape. My ' first ship,' 
 however, cannot, I fear, be earlier than the very middle of 
 October. Come, however, I shall, and avail myself of your 
 proffered hospitalities. 
 
 To . 
 
 Min-y-don, Colwyn : August 1852. 
 I have been making farewell visits * to my relations. 
 I have ridden seven miles and back to Conway, and 
 walked two miles and back to make a call ; all of which, 
 however, scarcely keeps me properly awake in this dreamy 
 sea-side place, and dreamy late summer weather. I am 
 continually stopping to look out at the view through the 
 window before my table. I look out on the Little Orme's 
 Head, with its rounded weather-beaten limestone rocks. 
 » Eefore going to Annricn, in Octoljcr 1852.
 
 185-2.] AUTIIUR HUGH CLOUGIL 229 
 
 We are here half-way between Abergele and Conw\ay the 
 sea a hundred yards oif, with a bit of a lawn between, 
 ending in a gorse hedge on the top of a steep bank going- 
 down direct upon the shore, in which bank now runs the 
 line of railway ; the Little Orme's Head, four miles off, 
 closing the view of the coast.
 
 230 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [CuAr. XI. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 LEATES UNIYEKSITT HALL — LETTERS FROM AMERICA, 1852-3. 
 
 The letters last given will have shown that A. H. Clough's 
 life in London was a great change from his Oxford life, 
 and one in many respects trying to him. The step he had 
 taken in resigning his Fellowship isolated him greatly : 
 many of his old friends looked coldly on him ; the new 
 acquaintances among whom he was thrown were not in 
 all ways congenial to him. The change from the intimate 
 and yet highly refined society of Oxford to the more 
 bustling miscellaneous outside life of London, to one not 
 well furnished with friends, and without a home, was 
 depressing. In his attempt to reach freedom he had 
 found solitude, and the freedom was not complete. 
 Though not bound by any verbal obligations, he found 
 himself expected to express agreement with the opinions 
 of the new set among whom he had fallen, which was no 
 more possible to him than it had been at Oxford. He 
 shut himself up, and went through his life in silence. 
 
 But here, too, he gradually formed some new and 
 valuable friendships. Among these, his acquaintance with 
 Mr. Carlyle was one of the most important ; and to the 
 end of his life he continued to entertain the warmest feel- 
 ings for that great man. It was part of the sensitiveness 
 of his character to shrink from going back on old impres- 
 sions ; and though he always retained his affection for early 
 friends, yet intercourse with fresh minds was often easier
 
 1852.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 231 
 
 to Liin than with tliose to whom his former phases were 
 more familiar. Thus he drifted somewhat apart from old 
 friends, while bis immediate surroundings were far less 
 agreeable to bim than they had been at Oxford. 
 
 After two years at University Hall, he offered himself 
 as a candidate for the Principalship of a College at Sydney: 
 be did not obtain it, but this became the occasion of bis 
 quitting University Hall. Being again without fixed 
 occupation, his friends endeavoured to obtain for bim a 
 situation in the Education Office : but the accession of a 
 Conservative ministry destroyed his cbances for the time. 
 He therefore decided to tr}^ bis fortunes in America. He 
 had formed a close friendship with Emerson during bis, 
 visits to Europe in 1848, and bad received him at 
 Oxford and spent some time with him at Paris in the 
 spring of that eventful year. Hoping to find some 
 greater opportunity for turning his acquirements to prac- 
 tical purpose, be left England for Boston in October 1852. 
 The kindness witb which be was there received, and the 
 satisfaction whicb it gave bim to be in a country where be 
 felt himself wanted, will appear from the letters which 
 here follow. 
 
 Extracts from Letters ivritten from America. 
 
 On board the Canada: Friday, November 5, 1852. 
 
 Here you see my first written words on board H.M.S. 
 Canada, which is tossing like fury against a dead-ahead 
 wind. 
 
 Saturday night we passed Holyhead, Sunday coasted 
 Ireland, and passed the Asia steamer witb all her sails set. 
 This day week we are to be in port, spite of head wind. 
 
 Sunday, November 7. 
 
 A very Sunday-like Sunday indeed : fair wind and 
 bright weather; church service in the chief cabin, read 
 by the surgeon, with sermon by the Rev. Dr. Cook, 
 of the Presbyterian Established ChurcK in Quebec: the
 
 232 LETTEKS AXD KEMAIXS OF [Chap. XL 
 
 lieutenant in his imiform, and some ten or twelve broad- 
 chested sailors, in their blue woollen shirts, occupying the 
 end of the cabin, aft — fine fellows as need be seen. Since 
 then, a deal of promenading on the quarter-deck. I get 
 sick of the publicities, however, about 2 o'clock, and come 
 down to my cabin to scribble. Lowell, who is on board, 
 is very friendly indeed. Thackeray and I also get on. 
 
 We have on board a Dragoon officer and a young Engi- 
 neer officer, bound for Bermuda ; two American medical 
 students ; a young half-English New York candidate for 
 orders ; a Manchester youth, on his first trip to New Or- 
 leans; a Cambridge travelling bachelor, with his brother, an 
 Oxford man, knocked up with work in the University crew, 
 going to Montreal; a Comptroller of the Customs in Halifax, 
 and perhaps a well-to-do Halifax merchant, both well- 
 bred Englishmen ; a south-country merchant, also English, 
 with an American wife ; a Boston chronometer maker ; a 
 Virginian, with wife, son, and little niece. Sundry Ameri- 
 can brokers, &c. &c. make up our party. 
 
 November 8. 
 
 No sun to-day, and no observation ; but we are running 
 thirteen knots ; and the sea is a very gentle beast, and 
 hardly rocks at all, and we are all good-humoured and 
 hungry. 
 
 November 9. 
 
 The ship is jjlunging like a porpoise. Last night 
 came on a sort of gale, with cloud and fog, and we 
 moreover just off Cape Race, and, I believe, really running 
 straight upon it, which, you know, is a great mass of cliff 
 300 or 400 feet high. However, we stopped and sounded, 
 and stopped and sounded again, and changed our course 
 southward, and were safe past before bed-time, but have 
 been going slowly, with a strong head wind. 
 
 November 11. 
 Off the coast of Nova Scotia. Last night at 1 o'clock 
 we got to Halifax. We had a very noisy night of
 
 1852] ARTHUR IfUGII CLOUGII. 233 
 
 it — boxes going out and boxes coming in, and passengers 
 ditto. 
 
 I have walked one lady about the deck for an hour, and 
 talked half-an-hour to anotiier, and another half-hour 
 ■with Thackeray, who was laid up in his berth. I was 
 called on dock to see the Niagara steaming away east- 
 ward from Halifax, some eight miles to the south of us. 
 I am perhaps a little sick of the amount of intimacy 
 which enforces itself upon one under the circumstances of 
 fellow-passengership. It is to be ended, however, to- 
 morrow. 
 
 There was speechifying and toasting at dinner yesterday 
 in the usual approved style. All our healths were drunk 
 at the lunch-dinner. Thackeray, of course, was drunk ; 
 then Mr. Degen proposed Lowell, the American poet ; and 
 Lowell, in returning thanks, proposed the English poet 
 — me ! — and all the people stared at this extraordinary 
 piece of information, and I made my very modest speech, 
 &c. &c. 
 
 I have been interrupted by a discourse on the Fugitive 
 Slave Law by a citizen of Hartford, Connecticut, who takes, 
 not the anti-slavery view, and affirms that the North is 
 quite satisfied. The Lowells meantime are fervent aboli- 
 tionists. 
 
 Tremont House, Boston: Monday, November 15, 1852. 
 
 Here I am an established Bostonian. Friday, arrived 
 at sunset; found Thackeray already at this hotel, and 
 that I had been enquired for. Supped with Thackeray 
 and Co., and went to bed. 
 
 Saturday. — Lady Lyell takes me to theTicknors; go 
 to Dr. Howe's office, close by here, and see him ; presently 
 in comes young JNIr. Norton, and afterwards Mrs. Howe. 
 Leave letters on the Appletons and Abbott Lawrences. In 
 returning meet Norton, with whom I swear eternal friend- 
 ship ; he takes me and introduces me at the Athenaeum, 
 and at a Club, and we walk and talk till 2.30.
 
 234 LETTERS AXD REMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 Then I dine at the hotel, at the ' Ladies' Ordinary,' with 
 Thackeray and the Lyells ; then lionize with Thackeray 
 and his friend Crowe through the streets, till it is time to 
 go off to the railway, which at 6.45 carries me off to Con- 
 cord, to Emerson. Mrs. Emerson is out, with her eldest 
 girl. Old Mrs. Emerson, called ' JMadam,' is sitting in the 
 room — a small, benevolent-looking, large-eyed old lady, 
 the original of Ealph Waldo. 
 
 Sunday. — Loads of talk with Emerson all morning. 
 Breakfast at 8 displays two girls and a bo}^ the family. • 
 Pinner at 2.30. Walk with Emerson to a wood with a 
 prettyish pool. Concord is very bare (so is the country in 
 general) ; it is a small sort of village, almost entirely of 
 wood houses, painted white, with Venetian blinds, green 
 outside, with two white wooden churches — one with a stone 
 fapade of Doric columns, however. Emerson's ancestor 
 brought his congregation here from Gloucestershire (I 
 think) in the year 1635. 
 
 There are some American elms, of a weeping kind, and 
 sycamores, i.e. planes; but tbe wood is mostly pine — white 
 pine and yellow pine — somewhat scrubby, occupying the 
 tops of the low banks, and marshy hay land between, very 
 brown now. A little brook runs through to the Concord 
 river. 
 
 At 6.30, tea and Mr. Thoreau ; and presently Mrs. 
 Ellery Channing, Miss Channing, and others. 
 
 This morning I came away at a quarter to nine : a 
 hard frost. To-day I have seen Norton, and called on 
 Charles Sumner. To-morrow I am to dine with Norton, 
 to meet Felton, the Grreek Professor, at the Club; and the 
 next day at his father's, and to call on Longfellow, who 
 called on me. 
 
 I like Boston. There is a sort of park, ' the Common,' 
 with iron railings, and houses something like the Piccadilly 
 row above the Grreen Park, only all residences without 
 shops — one built by Governor Hancock, whose name is
 
 1852.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIT. 235 
 
 first in the Declaration of Independence, quite an old- 
 fashioned George II. house ; the others later, of red brick, 
 with balustrading- and carving', many of them. It is 
 really very tolerably English in the town. The harbour 
 is very pretty. It is like a very good sort of English 
 country t^wn in some respects. 
 
 People dine here at 2.30 regularly, and ask you to dine 
 then. Fashionable dinners are at 5. At evening parties 
 you are supposed to have had tea, and to want supper. 
 
 Alas I I have not seen a garden yet in Massachusetts. 
 Emerson's little girl, however, brought in some small 
 ' pensees,' which she called ' lady's delights,' and some 
 other little things that did for flowers. Edith is a very 
 nice child, and will be eleven next jMonday. ' ^^^len I 
 was going to be nine years old, I didn't know how I should 
 feel.' ' Well, and how did you feel V ' Oh, I didn't feel 
 an3^how.' 
 
 I had Abolition pretty well out with Emerson, with 
 whom one can talk with pleasure on the subject. His 
 view is in the direction of purchasing emancipation. I 
 send a bit of bark from a birch in Emerson's wood-lot, the 
 white or papj^ra birch, from which the Indians make 
 canoes. I remember long years ago seeing these birches 
 on a hill near Lebanon Springs; up which we children 
 were taken to look out over a tract of country which we 
 were told was Massachusetts. * 
 
 November 19. 
 
 I am to settle at Cambridge next Tuesday. I suppose 
 I shall by degrees find out the defects of the Yankee at 
 home, but certainly they are very kind. 
 
 Here, in Boston, I am ' the celebrated author of " The 
 Bothie," ' a whole edition of which was printed and sold, 
 they say, here ! 
 
 Houses are sadly dear, one is told, both in Cambridge 
 and Boston ; and things in general are said to be expen- 
 sive, meat and drink excepted. Drink, however, in the
 
 236 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XL 
 
 shape of wine and spirits, is actually forbidden. Tem- 
 perance is established by law. Only those who have 
 stocks on hand of their own can drink; a few sellers, whose 
 licenses have not expired, can sell. But after that there 
 will be no selling at all. This is called Maine Law, and is 
 said to be of great benefit in the country plaqes, crime 
 being greatly reduced. Dr. Howe gives no wine ; at Mr. 
 Dwight's there was sherry and Madeira, but hardly any 
 was drunk : three very small glasses apiece by the gentle- 
 men — by the ladies none. Wine and spirits are certainly 
 not required, where there is so much stimulant in the air ; 
 even tea and coffee may be well dispensed with. The best 
 drink for the climate, I think, is cocoa. 
 
 November 21. 
 Yesterday Emerson gave a grand dinner, in honour of 
 my poor self apparently, at the Tremont House, where 
 were Longfellow, Hawthorne, Greenough the sculptor, 
 Charles Sumner, Theodore Parker, Ellery Channing, 
 Lowell, and five others— a very swell dinner, I assure you. 
 
 November 22. 
 
 I have been^up and have called on Mr. Prescott and Mr. 
 Winthrop. Cambridge is three miles from Boston, with 
 omnibuses every quarter of an hour, and also a railway. 
 The cold increases; snow is announced, but has not come 
 yet here, though it has in most parts. 
 
 Cambridge, November 24. 
 
 Here I am settled at Cambridge in my own apartments, 
 with all but my books about me: in-doors and out-of- 
 doors, north-west wind and hard frost. 
 
 To-morrow, which is Thanksgiving Day, the old Puritan 
 substitute for Christmas Day, I have promised to go to 
 .church with the Nortons. The Congregationalists, Baptists, 
 and Unitarians all unite for the day, in the Unitarian 
 building.
 
 1852.] AETIIUR HUGH CLOUGII. 237 
 
 A young lady, the other night, after I was introduced, 
 
 told me she had had the pleasure of looldng at me (the 
 
 celebrated author I ) at a party a few nights before. The 
 
 force of compliment could no further go. I very much 
 
 doubt, however, whether the fact of my authorship has 
 
 reached the serene nostrils of the Boston magnates, 
 
 though Longfellow fully recognises the high merit of the 
 
 Pastoral. 
 
 November 26. 
 
 In some respects this is a barren and shallow soil ; but 
 it is an immense thing to feel that you really are in all 
 likelihood wanted, whereas in London one was wasted 
 in occupying a place which some one else wished for. I 
 shall send you an American edition of the poor old ' Bothie.' 
 People here put it on their drawing-room tables, and 
 think it innocent enough, which indeed, believe me, it 
 really is : a little boyish of course, but really childishly 
 innocent. I read it nearly through the other morning, 
 which I had not done since the time of its first appearance ; 
 but I had heard it alluded to so much, I thought it my duty 
 to see what it was like. 
 
 Longfellow is a very good fellow ; he gave us quite an 
 Eno-lish dinner yesterday. He had just received a present 
 of o-rouse, pheasants, and milk-punch from some one he 
 had been civil to, and issued immediately his invitations : 
 Norton, Felton, Lowell, and me. 
 
 November 28. 
 
 Here I am with my first Anglo-American pupil, aged 
 seventeen, at his first day's work. He is a descendant of the 
 old Governor Winthrop, of Cromwell's times. He is to come 
 three hours a day till July. But I should not wonder if 
 before that he were across the Rocky jNIountains, or fili- 
 bustering in Cuba, or sowing other wild oats a la jeune 
 Americaine. Here, however, in bodily form, to the extent 
 of six foot one, he is, turning Greek into English, neither 
 better nor worse, before me at the present moment. It is
 
 238 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 ao-reeable after a fashion to be at work aefain : and teachings 
 Grreek is a very innocent trade at any rate — as innocent, I 
 should think, as most. 
 
 Last nig'ht I went to tea at Mrs. 's. I like herself 
 
 very much ; not equally so some of her friends ; they do 
 the satirical and the sarcastic, and the ill-natured and the 
 fastidious, and the intellectual and all that, for which one 
 had better go back to London. 
 
 December 5. 
 
 This winter is extraordinarily mild : to-day a little hoar 
 frost, but bright sunshine all the- same. The difference here 
 in general is, that there is bright daylight from 6^ a.m. to 
 near 6 p.m., even now just before the shortest day. You 
 know we are in the latitude of Eome. 
 
 Yesterday I walked, from 3 to 6, towards the river 
 Mystic; to-day across the river Charles (which is close here, 
 running under the low bank of Cambridge), towards 
 Brookline and Eoxbury, which was rather pretty; but every- 
 thing is sadly bare — no hedges, and not many trees. The 
 only green trees now, of course, are the firs, which are much 
 like the spruce firs in England. There is a sort of juniper, 
 which grows high like a cypress, or even higher, and is 
 pretty. 
 
 Yesterday I had a walk with James Lowell to a very 
 pretty spot, Beaver Brook. Then I dined with him, his 
 wife, and his father, a fine old minister, who is stone deaf, 
 but talks to you. He began by saying that he was born an 
 Englishman, i.e. before the end of the Eevolution. Then he 
 went on to say, ' I have stood as near to Greorge IIL as to 
 you now;' ' I saw Napoleon crowned Emperor;' then, 'Old 
 men are apt to be garrulous, especially about themselves ;' 
 * I saw the present Sultan ride through Constantinople on 
 assuming the throne; ' and so on— all in a strong clear voice, 
 and in perfect sentences, which you saw him making 
 beforehand. And all one could do was to bow and look
 
 1852.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 239 
 
 expressive, for he could only just hear when his son got up 
 and shouted in his ear. 
 
 Decembpr li. 
 
 I am to read a lecture here on English literature, gratis ; 
 but if I should read it two or three times after that, I may 
 make it pay something worth speaking of. One lecture 
 maybe read as much as a hundred times. It is rether a 
 distinction, though a barren one, to read it, as I shall, the 
 first time here in Cambridge ; at least the other lectui ers 
 in the same course are Professors, and it was thouo-ht it 
 would make me known in College. 
 
 Look here at this little incident in illustration of manners 
 and customs. I find, in the middle of my small breakfast, 
 that there is no sugar, so I ring ; no one comes, and I do 
 without. About a quarter of an hour after comes the 
 Irishwoman, and says, ' Did ye want anything when ye 
 rang ? I was sorry I couldn't come just then. I thought it 
 was to take way, and I wasn't through my breakfast.' 
 ' I wasn't through ' is the universal Yankee for ' I hadn't 
 done.' ' Are you through ? ' for ' Have you done ? ' conti- 
 nually occurs. 
 
 A school for boys or girls is what all the good advisers 
 give as their best advice — Felton, Longfellow, Gr. Emerson. 
 I am content to do this till I am forty, at any rate. I think 
 often of the plan of joining somebody w^ho is in the trade 
 already. But this seems not after Yankee fashion ; every- 
 body is for himself. Mr. Greorge Emerson's school for girls 
 is conducted entirely by himself, with lady-teachers under 
 him. 
 
 Last night I met INIiss Sedgwick, a vigorous-looking lady 
 of fifty, perhaps. James Lowell, who has written the poems, 
 is cousin to John Lowell, whose father founded the Lowell 
 Institution for lectures. One of the family was the first 
 setter up of manufactures here, and, as it were, founded the 
 town of Lowell. There is a town Lawrence, called after 
 Abbott Lawrence, in like manner.
 
 240 LETTEKS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XT. 
 
 I felt to-day as if I could be content to settle down 
 here in America for good and all, very fairly indeed ; 
 there is less that is wrong here, on the whole, though less 
 that is great. I was just reflecting that it is better to be 
 out here, and be away from London ; and yet sometimes 
 when I was there, I thought it was dreadful to be torn 
 away from what I was learning and feeling and seeing. 
 Now it seems as if all my time there had been wrongly 
 employed, and that it is an excellent thing to have got 
 away. However, it is more perhaps what one escapes than 
 what one gets. 
 
 Shall I tell you what an Old Hunker is ? — a high-and-dry 
 Tory ; and Democrats are the Eadicals, the party now vic- 
 torious over the Whigs, who are the same as our Tories. 
 Ticknor, Prescott, and Co., are Old Hunkers ; Hawthorne 
 is a Democrat. Emerson is a Free Soiler. If I were to be 
 anything (on the Slavery question) I shoidd be a Free 
 Soiler, which only means that you won't have any new Slave 
 States. I wouldn't interfere with existing Slave States, 
 except to intimate that the central Grovernment is ready 
 to assist in any measure any Slave State will propose for 
 getting rid of slavery ; i.e. to give compensation. I believe 
 the Fugitive Slave Law was a piece of truckling to the 
 South — quite an unnecessary concession. 
 
 January 3, 1853. 
 
 There is no stiffness here, I think. The s do the 
 
 grand a little ; and the s are exclusive, but not grand ; 
 
 and the Nortons are neither grand nor exclusive — very 
 kind-hearted and good. Charles Norton is the kindest 
 creature in the shape of a young man of twenty-five that 
 ever befriended an emigrant stranger anywhere. 
 
 I am not at all a distinguished literary man in some 
 eyes here, remember ; and as for poets, ' there are four 
 poets in Cambridge,' said some one to me the other day — 
 ' Mr. Longfellow, and you, and Mr. Batcheldor, and j\Ir.
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUCn. 241 
 
 something else.' I had, however, to send an autograph 
 to Cincinnati ; two hexameter verses, observe. 
 
 Written by A. H. Clough, for a reader at Cincinnati. 
 AYitness his hand and seal this 2Gth of December. 
 
 Ladies here usually carve and bring you things, even 
 at great suppers ; no man seems expected to carve for a 
 lady, and they don't get up when the ladies leave the 
 dining-room, nor open the door, except casually. Only in 
 omnibuses, and the cars — as they call railway trains — they 
 expect you to give your place up ; some, I believe, will even 
 ask. The worst thing is the service. Servants are very 
 indifferent, — dirty, uninstructed Irish, who are very slow in 
 learning to be clean, and very quick in learning to be inde- 
 pendent and ' I'm as good as you ' in their manners. 
 
 Some people here do manage very nicely, but mostly 
 there is the feeling that there is nobody to do things for 
 you. A meal is rather a matter of business than of 
 enjoyment. It is transacted. They don't sit over it like 
 rational beings ; they do it like washing their hands, or as 
 people dress who have got an engagement to be down to. 
 
 Last night I read mv lecture, and it seems to have done 
 very well. Afterwards I went to supper to James Lowell, 
 and stayed from 8.30 to 1 A.m. Thackeray came at 10 ; 
 Longfellow, Dana, Quincey, Estis Howe, Felton, Fields, 
 and another. Puns chiefly, but Dana is really amusing. 
 Thackeray doesn't sneer ; he is really very sentimental ; 
 but he sees the silliness sentiment runs into, and so always 
 tempers it by a little banter or ridicule. He is much 
 farther into actual life than I am ; I always feel that, but 
 one can't be two things at once, you know. 
 
 Here's a story — Mr. Dana of himself. Mr. Dana lec- 
 tures in a country town; walks home to sleep, after 
 
 it, with the ' President of the Lyceum,' a country 
 
 farmer. Dead silence. Farmer : ' Mr. Dana., I b'lieve 
 you wrote a book once ? ' ' Yes.' ' Waal, I never read it 
 
 s
 
 242 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 myself; my foaks have, though.' Dead silence again: 
 arrival home. The wife, an mvalid (accented thus in 
 America), as farmers' wives mostly are, hasn't been at 
 lecture, and states her sorrow, &c. Farmer : * My dear ! 
 b'lieve you've read Mr. Dana's book.' Wife looks deadly 
 blank, says at last ' she b'lieves she's heard speak of it.' 
 They sit down, and the apples are brought in. A little 
 black-eyed, sharp-looking, school-frequenting daughter 
 comes in. Farmer : ' Susan 'Liza ! you've read Mr. Dana's 
 " Two years before the Mast." ' Susan 'Liza (quickly) : 
 
 * No, sir.' Dead silence till bed-time. 
 
 Here are some stories which Webster told of his youth. 
 His father was a small farmer in New Hampshire, and had 
 helped one of his neighbours, who afterwards removed 
 and went into the woods. Daniel was going in that direc- 
 tion to College, and his father told him to enquire after 
 these people. He went, found them in a log hut, and said 
 he would stop Sunday with them, to which they were 
 agreeable. At supper-time the father of the family said 
 to him that for the present they were living upon grass. 
 And grass fried with lard did actually constitute supper, 
 breakfast, dinner, and every meal ; and, said Webster, 
 ' it wasn't so bad either.' At parting, the man said to him, 
 ' Well, Daniel, what are you going to be ? A minister ? 
 they're all hypocrites. A doctor ? they're all impostors ; 
 and lawyers, all cheats. No honest young man would be 
 any of these trades. But there is a trade I can tell you 
 of, by which you may make your fortune. There used to 
 be one or two in it, but I don't know of any in these 
 parts now : you'd have it all to yourself. I don't know 
 how it's done, but it's by larning, someways. You'd best 
 be a conjuror. When a man loses his cow, the conjuror 
 tells him where it is ; don't know how ; by larning, tho'.' 
 
 * Which advice,' said Webster, ' might have materially 
 changed my after life.' 
 
 Another story. Webster's father had a neighbour, who
 
 Ib53.] AKTIIUR HUGH CLOUGH. 243 
 
 was an honest, well-beliaved man, only given to drink. 
 Once when drunk he took his rifle and shot two friendly 
 Indians. The Indians demanded to have him given up, 
 and the people put him in jail. But his friends thought 
 it hard he should be hung for killing Indians, and they 
 broke open the prison and sent him off to Canada. The 
 Indians vowed they would be revenged on him all the 
 same. He lived in Canada with his wife and children 
 some time; but whether it was terror or conscience, at 
 last he made up his mind and left them, and went to the 
 Indians and said : ' It was I killed your two chiefs ; here 
 am I, do what you please with me.' So the Indians were 
 astonished, and considered the matter, and said, ' No, you 
 shall be our chief.' And there he remained with them the 
 rest of his days. His family came back to New Hamp- 
 shire, and Webster heard that his daughter had expressed 
 a wish to see him again, having only known him as a boy, 
 and once passing through drove to see her. 
 
 ^ January 8. 
 
 Snow and sleighing in full force. The omnibuses are all 
 on runners in sleigh fashion ; wheels are everywhere 
 discarded. 
 
 January 10. 
 
 Thermometer down at 5° at sunset yesterday ; so must, 
 1 think, have got down to —5° during the night. 
 
 For me, I was taken yesterday to the College chapel, 
 where an eminent Unitarian preached on the parable of 
 the prodigal son, or rather, against the said parable. To 
 be sure there tvas joy, because it was so very uncommon 
 and surprising a thing when a sinner repented. It was a 
 thing that very rarely indeed came to pass. 
 
 I sometimes think that my course is one that must be 
 walked alone, and that it is altogether too unpleasant and 
 poverty-stricken for married happiness. I sometimes, 
 when I have heard people here talk, for example, of 
 Theodore Parker, as if he were the scufft of the earth, 
 
 B2
 
 244 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 think that it will not do to keep silence. I have no par- 
 ticular love for Theodore Parker ; but he is so manifestly 
 more right than the people who despise him, I cg^nnot, I 
 think, in right altogether remain silent and acquiesce. It 
 looked to me as if orthodoxy (of the Unitarian kind) was 
 as bad for me as any realler orthodoxy elsewhere. 
 
 Anecdotes of the old clergy here are very rife: they 
 were quite an aristocracy, and could do as they pleased 
 more than anyone else, which now nobody can at all. They 
 were appointed for life, with fixed incomes ; this is not 
 the case so generally now. Eeligious opinions contrary to 
 the orthodox Unitarianism are represented as much dis- 
 liked here. 
 
 Mrs. says Boston ladies suffer in their health 
 
 through the endless trouble of keeping servants doing 
 things properly and nicely ; that the only way to live is to 
 live rudely and simply. I think she is right. Ornament 
 in America is a failure. As England stands to Fiance, so 
 America to England for ornamental things. 
 
 January 20. 
 
 I have just had a new pupil ; he is a very good fellow 
 and eager to learn, and a 'senior,' i.e. a fourth year stu- 
 dent in the College. I am also going to write an article 
 on the Oxford Commission in the 'North American Eeview.' 
 Another book matter is, that Little and Brown, the head 
 booksellers here, want me to help towards republishing 
 Lano-horne's Plutarch. I am to have discretion to do it as 
 I like, and ,^350 for the work. 
 
 My fancy at present is, if possible, to live here in a 
 humble way, take a few pupils, and do booksellers' work 
 or lecture, and so make up an income. I think it will be 
 less fatiguing and less hazardous than setting ujj a school, 
 which any rumour of heterodoxy might upset. And I do 
 think that I can teach Greek better than most Yankee 
 Grecians. *
 
 1853.] ARTHUR UUGII CLOUGII. 245 
 
 January 29. 
 
 Yesterday evening out in a sleigh and four horses, with 
 seven bidies and one youth, making nine in all, to Jamaica 
 Plain, four miles off. I was put into a buffalo skin, which 
 indeed was desirable, though it was not very cold. Sleighs, 
 you know, are all open ; some are like great barges, carry- 
 ing thirty people inside, sitting all round, drawn by perhaps 
 eight horses. 
 
 There is living here in Cambridge a Greek named 
 Evangelinus Sophocles, who was bred up in a monaster}', I 
 think, on JNIount Athos, and afterwards in a branch of it 
 at Alexandria. What strange recollections he must have 1 
 
 February 4. 
 
 Sleep as much as you can, eat plentifully, but don't 
 drink wine or spirits much. Such is the rule they give for 
 New England living. 
 
 I don't think I shall ever do much work alone, not from 
 laziness, but really from having no proper rest to go to 
 after it. I feel as if I had a good deal of work in me, 
 but it takes time to bring it out ; and the mere drudgery 
 of the Plutarch, though not disagreeable, takes a deal 
 of time. 
 
 I am, I know, sometimes carried away into a world of 
 abstraction when I write or study, or so forth. I believe 
 my ambition also, such as I have (it is only lately that I 
 have begun to believe that it exists in my composition at 
 all), tends in that direction. Yet I am always so glad to 
 come away from it. It is odd how much better I like 
 this Plutarch than I do anything which requires distinct 
 statement of opinion. Yet it bothers me a good deal, for 
 mending up an old translation seems often like putting 
 new wine into old bottles. They would hardly allow time, 
 or else I could almost believe it would be best even for 
 my own sake to spend time in translating it myself. 
 
 I, I am sure, have always been inclined to believe in
 
 '246 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 the good of the world, and have always acted on that 
 belief, except for a brief interval (just when I was in 
 London), and even then it was partly that I was afraid 
 lest I should be trusting my own vague hopefulness too 
 unreasonably. Turn the thing over as we will, we can't 
 make sure ; but doubt as we will about things in par- 
 ticular, we can, for the whole, feel sure. 
 
 Fires of wood are the pleasantest one sees here : there 
 is anthracite coal and another coal, which I burn mixed. 
 In many houses the rooms are heated only by the furnace, 
 which is found in almost all houses — a great stove down 
 below in the cellar, with pipes sent through the various 
 rooms, and what are called registers. What impairs the 
 beauty and youthfulness of the American women, is, I 
 believe, their hot fires and furnaces, and the dryness of the 
 heat given by the anthracite coal. But Mrs. Longfellow 
 looks as youthful as possible. 
 
 February 9. 
 
 Look in the ' Fraser ' of this month for some verses 
 about Napoleon and the Duke of Wellington; Napoleon's 
 dying words ' Tete d'armee.' The Duke didn't say any- 
 thing, did he ? I went on that supposition. It has been 
 beautifully bright and sunny here to-day : there is always 
 that advantage here. The thermometer is down to 6° or 
 7° to-night, I dare say. 
 
 I think I must have been getting into a little mysticism 
 
 lately. It won't do : twice two are four, all the world 
 
 over, and there's no harm in its being so; 'tisn't the devil's 
 
 doing that it is ; il faut s'y soumettre, and all right. 
 
 Some of my companions are too much in the religiose 
 
 vein to^be always quite wholesome company. This climate 
 
 also is, I think, mystical. 
 
 February 10. 
 
 Only ten pages of Plutarch done to-day. But at twelve 
 Emerson appeared, and after sitting a while with me, took 
 me off to dine in town with him. He is just come back
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 247 
 
 from the West. I go to stay Sunday with him, week after 
 next. 1 dined at Ins hotel, and sat in his room with him 
 talking till a quarter to five, and then came home to 
 Plutarch. 
 
 Drive deep the farrow in the sluggish soil, 
 E'en to the rock force in the labouring share ; 
 Earth, that with starveling ears mocks niggard toil, 
 To pain and strife will golden harvests bear. 
 
 This Plutarch is not a religious subject, fortunately. I have 
 
 rather the feeling that one day or other it will have to be 
 
 doue, whatever I do now, and however undesirous I may 
 
 be. The only thing to keep one quiet is the perfect 
 
 readiness to be unquiet at any moment that may call for it 
 
 or occasion it. 
 
 February 18. 
 
 Two hours and a bit at an evening party. Ceyi est troy. 
 However, there were some few reasonable beings there. 
 I don't much like going to parties, or rather do not 
 approve of their profuse expenditure of one's finest spirits : 
 however, one must harden oneself. People are cleverer 
 and know more over there, though perhaps they are more 
 tmworldly and amiable here. 
 
 Will you think it wrong if I do Avhat I think best in 
 itself, even if it don't seem the quickest way to get on ? 
 Apropos of this Plutarch, I feel sometimes as if I must 
 not trifle away time in anything which is not really a 
 work to some purpose, and that any attempt to be happy 
 except in doing that would be mere failure, even if 
 apparently successful. It sometimes seems to be said to 
 me that I must do this, or else * from him that hath not, 
 shall be taken away even that which he seeraeth to have.' 
 There is nothing very terrible in this, but I cannot get 
 myself to look at things as mere means to money-making ; 
 and yet if I do not, I seem in some sense guilty. It may 
 be the sanguine atmosphere of a new country has filled 
 me with a vain confidence of there being really something
 
 248 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 in me to be done beyond mere subsistence. In London I 
 felt myself pretty well helpless to effect anything. 
 
 ' Seek first the kingdom of Grod and His righteousness, 
 and all these things shall be added unto you.' Is there 
 any application for that, I wonder, now-a-days ? 
 
 February 21. 
 
 Just back at Cambridge after my visit to Emerson. I 
 was rather sleepless there, but it is very good to go to him. 
 He appears to take things very coolly, and not to meddle 
 with religious matters of any kind. Since visiting him, I 
 feel a good deal more reconciled to mere 'subsistence ; ' if 
 one can only have a little reasonable satisfactory inter- 
 course now and then, subsistence may be to some purpose. 
 But to live in a vain show of society would not do long. 
 The Boston people have been too well off, and don't know 
 the realities. Emerson is really substantive. 
 
 Cambridge is a town, or a city, or both, if you like. It 
 is a huge district, a parish (which here they call a toivn) 
 of several square miles, with roads stretching away here 
 and there and everywhere, and houses all along them and 
 off them. It is called a city because it has a Mayor and 
 Corporation ; but it is more like a big suburban district, a 
 sort of Clapham or Highgate. There is scarcely anything 
 that is a street properly speaking ; but there are acres of 
 roads with houses along them, and cross lanes with houses 
 too. 
 
 The College at Cambridge consists of a collection of old 
 red-brick buildings, with a balcony of modern granite. 
 There are students' rooms, much in our style, only 
 humbler. The boys at college live partly iu lodgings, 
 partly in halls, under some little superintendence, much 
 like college rooms; only they don't dine together, but all 
 about, in families, &c. They learn French, and history, 
 and German, and a great many more things than in 
 England, but only imperfectly.
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGIL 249 
 
 February 23. 
 
 Just returned from dinner with the Longfellows, where 
 I met Mrs. Stowe and her husband, only I to meet them. 
 She is small, and quiet, and unobtrusive, but quick and 
 ready-witted enough. Her husband is a very pleasant, 
 good-humoured country minister, with keen black eyes. 
 He has been in England before ; she never. 
 
 I have done my article for the 'North American;' not 
 very well, but that can't be helped ; it is not in a wrong 
 style of speaking, which is the main thing I care for. I 
 have put a pretty good tail to a poor bod}', like a squirrel. 
 It is very cold to-night, and the wind bloweth where it 
 listeth in this room of mine. 
 
 Are you aware that life is very like a railway ? One 
 gets into deep cuttings and long dark tunnels, where one 
 sees nothing and hears twice as much noise as usual, and 
 one can't read, and one shuts up the window, and waits, 
 and then it all comes clear again. Only in life it some- 
 times feels as if one had to dig the tunnel as one goes 
 along, all new for oneself. Go straight on, however, and 
 one's sure to come out into a new country, on the other 
 side the hills, sunny and bright. There's an apologue for 
 you ! 
 
 Here is a little story about Napoleon told to me by 
 S. C, and told to him by some old soldier in Switzerland 
 or France, jirobably a courier. This man was one of the 
 cuirassiers, and was in the Russian campaign, and at his 
 first battle was riding on to the charge, when suddenly he 
 found his kettle (they all carry their kettles behind them) 
 had dropped. So he jumped off, and was picking it up, 
 when somebody called out, ' He! cuirassier, que fais-tu la ?' 
 He looked up and saw the Emperor. Touching his hat 
 (which he did also in repeating it), *Ah, votre Majeste, 
 j'avais perdu ma chaudiere.' ' En avaut,' replied the 
 Emperor, ' les Russes m'ont.'
 
 250 LETTERS AND REMAINS OP [Chap. XI. 
 
 March 9. 
 
 Just returned from a little party to which I went in a 
 very bad humour, but have returned in much better. A 
 pleasant tiny old house, the oldest in Cambridge, perhaps, 
 that is really a pleasure to one's eyes ; beams across the 
 ceilings, and solid wood-work, and so forth. I went at 
 nine, and back at half-past ten ; that also is the right 
 thing. Tea, coffee, and chocolate ; that also is sensible. 
 
 I am almost persuaded to be an Abolitionist, w^hich, 
 however, is not true ; but I am a decided Free-soiler for the 
 present, and entirely give up the cause of the Fugitive 
 Slave Law. 
 
 Emerson is the only profound man in this country. 
 There are some other nice people at Concord ; but for 
 society generally the advantage is greatly on the side of 
 Cambridge. Concord would be but dull, but the walks 
 are far prettier than here. It is nearly an hour's journey 
 from Boston. People don't the least despise one for being 
 poor in Cambridge, and indeed I recommend them not ! 
 
 There are two Miss and their mother livino" here : 
 
 their father, now dead, was American minister for many 
 
 years at and ; and now one Miss teaches 
 
 French, and the other music. My opinion is that the 
 true position in this country is that of comparative 
 poverty. No sort of real superiority of breeding or any- 
 thing attaches as it does in England to the rich. The 
 poor man can get his children educated at the public 
 schools, to which the rich children go also, for nothing, 
 prepared for college even. And very few people indeed 
 are so rich by patrimony as not to be in business. 
 
 What I mean by mysticism, is letting feelings run on 
 without thinking of the reality of their object, letting 
 them out merely like water. The plain rule in all 
 matters is, not to think what you are thinking about the 
 question, but to look straight out at the things and let
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 251 
 
 them affect you ; otherwise how can you judge at all ? 
 look at them at any rate, and judge while looking. I was 
 just now looking into a book of verse which I brought 
 with me, at what is called there * vfxvos dv/xvos ; it wants 
 a good deal of mending as it stands, but it is on the whole 
 in sense very satisfactory to me still. However, we sliall 
 learn more together, I do not doubt. The only way to 
 become really religious is to enter into those relations 
 and those actualities of life which demand and create 
 religion. 
 
 In the years 1844 and 1845, I was in very great force, 
 and used to be taken for an undergraduate just come up 
 to college. I am wiser perhaps now, but I have lost a 
 good deal to become so. 
 
 March 16. 
 
 Here comes a letter from Carlyle, about my coming home 
 and about the Council Office. I tell him I shall be very 
 glad to come home, and very grateful to be brought ; but I 
 don't dwell on what must be an uncertainty. I should 
 like you, even if it were but for a little while, to see this 
 worthy Yankee-land. From the specimens I occasionally 
 meet with, I infer it to be a good deal the best part of 
 the American Kepublic. But I should like to see the 
 
 West. 
 
 JMarch 30. 
 This morninfj I went for a walk of an hour and a half 
 to Freshpond, the pond where they cut the ice to go to 
 Eugland, India, or wherever it may be. There are odd 
 birds here. The rooks fly to the South, and have just 
 reappeared ; that is, I have seen one. There is a bird 
 about as big as a starling, with a black head, and a slight 
 tinge of red on the breast ; this they call the robin. There 
 are little things they call sparrows, more like sedge-birds, 
 I think ; and black-birds with long tails, that hold Sunday 
 
 * Poems, p. 76.
 
 252 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 meetings in the pines, bigger than ours. But the prettiest 
 bird I have seen is the blue-bird, rather less than the robin, 
 with blue back and wings, and a red-tinted breast, some- 
 thing like a bull-finch, only larger. 
 
 The extremely-respectables of Boston attend ' the Stone 
 Chapel,' an Episcopalian church of old time, whose minister, 
 some thirty years ago perhaps, told his congregation that 
 he had become a Unitarian, and therewith resigned. So 
 they considered and consulted, and said. Well, they liked 
 him very much, and they thought they would turn Unita- 
 rians too ; what was good enough for him, was likely to be 
 as much as would do very well for them. So they took 
 the English liturg}^ (for moreover certain endowments 
 depended on the use of the Church liturgy) and cut off 
 the tails of the prayers, and pruned things here and there, 
 and lo 1 they have a very handsome Common Prayer book, 
 quite as good as any genuine one. And to this Stone 
 Chapel go all the fashionable Unitarian people of Boston, 
 in their best dresses, just as if they were Church of England 
 people, and are deeply attached to their liturgy, just as if 
 it was the real thing. Is not that curious ? 
 
 Did I tell you of the aged Calvinist woman, who being 
 asked about the Universalists, said, ' Yes, they expect that 
 every body will be saved, but we " look for better things ? " ' 
 
 April 1. 
 
 I went last night to Dana's, where was pretty nearly all 
 Cambridge; and where I had some port wine, I believe the 
 first I have seen since I came to America. He showed 
 us a copy of Hallam's works handsomely bound, received 
 by him in gratitude for his services in their behalf from 
 the negroes of Boston. He defended their cause in some of 
 the trfals about the Fugitive Law. 
 
 Before the end of this month the Nortons depart, which 
 will reduce my stock of sociabilities materially. They go 
 in summer to Newport.
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 'J53 
 
 I have already established two decent walks, not to 
 mention a sort of half-hour stroll, at the end of which 
 there is a little spot where one can pause and be solaced. 
 On southern slopes there is po.«itively a slight tinge of 
 green. The common, however, which is level, seems to 
 me as brown as ever it was. Mind you tell me as soon as 
 ever the little ferns begin to curl up out of the ground 
 over with you. 
 
 April 4. 
 
 I have just had my little Ethics class, who seem to enjoy 
 themselves very well, and certainly relieve my inactive 
 life of Plutarchising very pleasantly. This sort of thing, 
 the class of six or seven, is what I have always got on best 
 with. I might get on as far as twelve or fifteen, but after 
 that it gets disagreeable, comparatively. I got on fam- 
 ously with some five of the youths at University College 
 with these same Ethics, in the year 1851. 
 
 April 6. 
 
 To-day is the annual Fast-day, so my little class in 
 Ethics goes to church instead and come to me to-morrow. 
 People all go to church to-day, and it is a sort of Sunday. 
 Thanksgiving-day in November and Fast-day in March 
 or April are the two state religious observances in Massa- 
 chusetts. 
 
 I am going to send a bit of the Mayflower which grows 
 chiefly about Plymouth, where the Pilgrim P'athers landed, 
 and it is called after their ship, ' The Mayflower.' They 
 are rare. The spring is beautiful here also, though so 
 slow. The American weeping elms are extremely graceful, 
 with their long pendent branches hung thick with buds. 
 There are sharpish frosts, however, at times, so that there 
 is no appearance of leaf as yet, except upon these May- 
 flowers, which, I think, must have been specially sheltered 
 or forced. I saw, by-the-bye, a great bittern at Concord; 
 it rose from a pond, and makes an odd noise, on account
 
 254 LETTERS AND REMAINS OP [Chap. XI 
 
 of which they call it the stake-driver. There were some 
 Andromedas, just budding, covering all the banks of the 
 pond. 
 
 General Pierce's speech is not really at all aggressive ; I 
 believe he Vi^as forced to say something for his party, but 
 he kept within the lines pretty well. They say that when 
 he read the passage about territories that must become 
 theirs, there was a general cheer ; and when he went on to 
 say that under his government no movement not perfectly 
 fair and just should be made, there was a dead silence. 
 Everett's speech is made a good deal of; but I don't think 
 he's up to the mark, and I believe the old Whigs are 
 quite stranded. Circumstances may split the Democrats 
 (Pierce's people), and they may form into parties, one 
 aggressive and the other conservative. Free soil, perhaps. 
 For they say Mexico must be dropping in soon, and then 
 there'll be all the old question of Extension of Slave Area 
 over again. 
 
 I am goinof to write an article in the 'North American 
 Eeview,' on recent English poetry. I have been inter- 
 rupted in my regular quiet Plutarch work, which suits me 
 much better than reviewing Alexander Smith & Co. 
 M. Arnold's ' Tristram ' has been giving me pleasure. 
 
 I have been reading Mrs. Gaskell's 'Euth;' it is really 
 very good, but it is a little too timid, I think. Euth did 
 well, but there is also another way, and a more hopeful 
 way. Such at least is my feeling. I do not think she 
 has got the whole truth. I do not think that such over- 
 powering humiliation should be the result in the soul of 
 the not really guilty, though misguided girl, any more than 
 it should be, justly, in the judgment of the world. 
 
 I really am very comfortably settled, on very easy terms 
 with the American world in general, and have nothing to 
 complain of, except perhaps the fact which appears to be 
 true everywhere, that to get a livelihood one must do work 
 according to other people's fancies, instead of one's own,
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 255 
 
 wliich of course are the best, but under the circumstances 
 
 must give way. 
 
 Do you know the Xortons have been so good as to offer 
 
 me house-room during their absence at Newport? so in 
 
 three weeks' time you must conceive of me as embowered 
 
 among the pines of Shady Hill, about two-thirds of a 
 
 mile from this present Mrs. Howe's. It will be cooler too. 
 
 July, August, and the beginning of September are the 
 
 hot months. 
 
 April 28. 
 
 I have had a sort of rheumatic cold. The east winds 
 
 come in, in the midst of the warmth, with damp icy chills 
 
 from the icebergs. I have had similar sensations in 
 
 Italy. This day four years I was in Kome, witnessing the 
 
 battle in which the French got beaten. 
 
 May 12. 
 
 Last night I went to a ' reception,' that is, the next 
 
 thing after a wedding. At seven o'clock Miss , daughter 
 
 of a German, once Professor, was united to a German mer- 
 chant, in the presence of about seventy friends, in their 
 drawing-room. I went, and found the groomsman at the 
 door; he took me up, led me to the end of the room, where 
 stood the newly-married lady, holding white flowers in her 
 hand. I made my bow, turned to the right, and presented 
 my congratulations to the lady's mother, and retired. And 
 so the thing went on for a couple of hours nearly. It is 
 quite the old custom, older a great deal than ours, which 
 only dates from the time when the law was passed enacting 
 that all marriages should be performed before twelve at 
 noon, some time in the middle of 1700 — 1800. 
 
 The most agreeable part of the proceeding was the leave- 
 taking of the young people, who were her friends, which 
 began towards the end of the evening. 
 
 On the whole, I do think that pupillising and writing is 
 my proper vocation, and that if I could afford to stick to 
 it, and do whatever work is offered me really well, I should
 
 256 LETTEKS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XI. 
 
 in time be well paid for it. People talk in their sanguine 
 way, but they don't know how hard it is for the unfortu- 
 nate solitary schoolmaster to get through his work from 
 day to day : they don't know how, with no real affection 
 to recur to when he is overworked, he is obliged to run no 
 chances of overworking himself; how he must, as it were, 
 use only his left hand to work with, because he has to 
 Iwld on with his right for fear of falling altogether. This 
 is not indolence, and so forth. 
 
 Eile mit Weile, das war selbst Kaiser Augustus Devise, 
 
 I send some lily of the valley, which does not grow wild, 
 however, and is not native to America. Rhododendrons 
 don't grow anywhere in Massachusetts, I believe, except 
 one shabby sort in some of the wet grounds inland. Aza- 
 leas also are not to be found near Boston, but in the west 
 of Massachusetts. 
 
 May 21, 
 A man who doesn't go much into the kind of society 
 where people have the chance of .going backwards and 
 forwards, and experimenting, and learning their own minds 
 and other people's minds, and correcting their views by 
 finding out the feeling of others, runs into mistakes more 
 flagrant and irretrievable than hundreds quite as bad 
 really which occur continually. Because he has lived 
 quietly and done his daily duties, and not gone into 
 dancing and flirtation, he has known less about feminine 
 feelings than worse men do, less perhaps also about his own. 
 The mere man's idea of a wife as a helpmate in duty is not 
 in my judgment an insult to womankind, though it may 
 require modification and correction. But if that were 
 the worst sin committed against womankind, the world 
 would be better than it is ; and many women, it appears 
 to me, have been misled by their natural aversion to this 
 into accepting worse things. It is a sad thing for a man 
 to feel that by his very steadiness and self-sacrifice in doing
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 257 
 
 his plain duty, he has cut himself off from the happiness 
 which women i! alas are often ready to accord to the indo- 
 lent and self-indulgent. Indeed, but I fear it is so, very 
 often. 
 
 East winds and rain ; such is our present not at all 
 pleasant dispensation. September, October, November 
 are said to be the most agreeable months here, and April 
 and May the worst. People fly from Boston in the spring, 
 if they are at all consumptive. 
 
 Shady Hill, Camlridgo : Juno 4. 
 
 I woke this morning in a sort of paradise. My room 
 her6 is a most delightful change from my late narrow crib, 
 consequently I awoke in a sort of ecstasy ; I have not 
 been in anything like it since I left Combe. It looks 
 south-eastward, right away to Boston, which is full in sight, 
 not much above a mile and a half off; and the masts • of 
 some shipping are visible, near where, I think, the steamers 
 lie for England. It is a great relief to get into a nice 
 house, with everything pleasant about one. 
 
 On Sunday I walked across a bit of wood and got into 
 a bog, which was all covered with the blue Iris. I picked 
 also some Andromeda and Kalmia. 
 
 This climate certainly is to my somewhat rheumatic 
 constitution extremely trying. Think of jjassing without 
 notice from 85° in the shade to a cold, icy-damp east wind 
 of 50°. At three o'clock the thermometer was 89° or 90° 
 in the shade. 
 
 June 15. 
 This is a blazing hot day, which makes me truly wish 
 myself in England. But it will pass, and indeed there is 
 a cool breeze ; but that gives one a chill at the same time 
 that one is melting with heat. The autumn is said to be 
 very pleasant, and I myself cared little for the winter. 
 But from the middle of March onward, God help one ! 
 I went to Longfellow's and had a very pleasant dinner ; 
 
 s
 
 258 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cuap. XF. 
 
 Emerson, Hawthorne and, C. E. Norton. Hawthorne goes 
 July 7. I am going to Emerson's next Saturday. I 
 more and more recognise his superiority to everybody I 
 have seen. 
 
 Energy is a very ordinary thing: reasonableness is 
 much less common, and does ten times the good. Spur- 
 ring and lashing is not good ; one loses quite as much in 
 sense and sober discernment as one gains in anything else. 
 
 June 21. 
 
 It rained heavily in the night. To-day is pretty cool 
 and pleasant, and the rain-drops lie on the broad tuHp- 
 tree leaves among the flowers which are now coming 'out, 
 just through my open window. I came back yesterday 
 from Emerson's, after a pleasant Sunday. I saw Plaw- 
 thorne again, and his children too, Julian and Una, and a 
 little thing about two years old. Concord is pretty in 
 summer, and a good deal cooler than Cambridge. I saw 
 also Margaret Fuller's mother at Emerson's, and liked her. 
 There were visitors from New York, a young Englishman, 
 and a young German that has married a daughter of 
 Concord, both in the artist line, and living in New York; 
 and there was quite a little crowd of people in the evening. 
 
 June 22. 
 
 The hottest day of the year, 94° or more out of doors, 
 
 and 86° in. But nothing is any real harm but the east 
 
 wind. 
 
 Juno 23. 
 
 Quite cold again, and I have a sore throat with the 
 
 change. 
 
 June 28. 
 
 The letter advising me to come home arrived this morn- 
 ing. I have telegraphed for my berth, and sail with this 
 letter from New York.
 
 1853.] ARTUUR HUGH CLOUGU. 2.-59 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 RETURN TO ENGLAND — APrOINTMENT IN EDUCATION OFFICE — 
 
 LETTERS, 1853—1860. 
 
 In the summer of 1853, an opportunity of returning to 
 England was given to A. H. Clough by the offer of an 
 Examinership in the Privy Council Office, wliich the kind 
 exertions of his friends obtained for him. The certainty of 
 a permanent though small income, joined to his natural 
 affection for home, decided him to accept this place, and give 
 up his chances in America, not without some regret, after 
 he had gradually brought his mind to the idea of adopting 
 a new country. His genuine democratic feeling rejoiced at 
 the wider diffusion of prosperity and substantial comfort 
 which he found in America ; at the same time he would 
 doubtless have suffered greatly from the expatriation, and 
 would probably have always regretted his exclusion from 
 what he calls ' the deeper waters of ancient knowledge and 
 experience ' to be found in the old country. 
 
 He entered on the duties of his office in July 1853, and 
 retained the place till his death. His life henceforth was 
 settled ; it was hard-working in every sense, and had no 
 great change or variety in it. He completed his edition 
 of Plutarch, begun in America, and also published a small 
 selection from the Grrecian Lives, intended for schools, 
 which, had he lived, would have been followed by a 
 similar selection from the Latin Lives. 
 
 In the spring of 1856 he was appointed Secretary to a
 
 260 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 Commission for examining the Scientific Military Schools 
 on the Continent. He visited, in consequence, the great 
 Schools for Artillery and Engineers in France, Prussia, and 
 Austria. This journey lasted about three months, and 
 afforded him great enjoyment, and also much occupation 
 for a considerable time afterwards. It also in some degree 
 prepared him for the great interest he took in the work of 
 liis friend and relation, Miss Nightingale, after her return 
 from the Crimea. For her he had the greatest admiration 
 and affection, and her friendship had a great place in the 
 thoughts and feelings of his later years. 
 
 His life, it will be seen, was at this time altogether 
 taken up by practical work. He had not time, or strength, 
 or leisure of mind to spend on his natural gifts of w^riting ; 
 and to his friends it must ever be a source of sorrow that 
 his natural vocation, what he himself felt as suchj was 
 imfulfilled. He looked foi-ward always to some time 
 when greater opportunity might be granted him, when 
 the various experience of later life, the results of his later 
 thought, might ' assort themselves upon the brain,' and be 
 given out in some definite form. In the meantime he 
 ivaited, not impatiently or unwillingly, for he was slow to 
 draw conclusions, patient in hearing others' views, and 
 ready to appreciate them. But though the writings which 
 he has left are but few, his mind did not fail to exercise a 
 great influence. All who were much with him will bear 
 witness to the strong impression left by his character, and 
 by the force and originaUty of his intellect. He was not 
 prompt to give out distinct opinions or answers to 
 theoretical questions, but he seldom failed to find a prac- 
 tical solution to any . immediate difficulty, practical or 
 mental. His mind turned more and more to action as its 
 natural relief; and in his family circle, his gentle wisdom, 
 and patience, and great tenderness of feeling caused him 
 to be constantly appealed to in all difficulties. It was 
 indeed only in the intimacy of daily life that the full
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 261 
 
 charm and grace of his nature was felt, the intense lov- 
 ableness of it, the tender unselfishness, and the manly 
 courage with which he met the difficulties of life, and 
 helped others through them. 
 
 But little remains in the way of correspondence after 
 this time. All the letters given of this date were to 
 friends in America, more especially to that one friend, 
 whose kindness more than any other person's cheered 
 the months of his solitary emigrant's life in Cambridge, 
 and whose friendship and correspondence never slackened 
 up to the time of his death. This explains the constant 
 allusion to American questions in these letters. 
 
 To Charles Eliot Norton, Esq., CambHdge, McLssachusetts. 
 
 On board tho Asia : July 7, liS53. 
 
 Here we are, pretty well on our way across, about 2,200 
 miles from New York. 
 
 Mr. Slidell of Louisiana, and a young man apparently his 
 companion, are perhaps the most unexceptionable human 
 beings that one sees. Some Spaniards from Mexico and 
 Cuba are also pleasant to look at, specially two little boys. 
 A maiden aunt and nephew from Burlington, New Jersey, 
 sit near me, and are not so bad. A horrid woman from 
 New York whines, or rather wheines, or whaines, or even 
 whoines just beyond, whom it is misery even to think of. 
 I feel convinced there is a purgatory for vulgar people. 
 
 Combe Hurst, Surrey: July lo. 
 
 Now I am here I find the case is altered a good deal. 
 Still 1 like America best ; and, but for the greater security 
 which one has in a fixed salary, would give up all tliouglit 
 of staying here at once. At least I might take the place for 
 a time. It is a temptation, if I am to live the rest of my 
 life chez vous, to secure another year's schooling on this 
 side first ; iroXka Be StBaaKo/jbsvos, in short.
 
 262 LETTEES AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 I like America all the better for the comparison with 
 
 England on my return. Certainly I think you are more 
 
 right than I was willing to admit about the position of the 
 
 lower classes here. I hope you will be able to get along 
 
 without anything like it, and in any case you have a great 
 
 blessing in the mere chance of that. Such is my first 
 
 re-impression. However, it will wear off soon enough, I 
 
 dare say ; so you must make the most of my admission. 
 
 Thackeray, they tell me, is full of the kind-heartedness 
 
 and generousness of the Americans, and is faithful to his 
 
 purpose of writing no book. 
 
 July 20, 1853. 
 
 The thing is done ; and I am to try my hand in this 
 
 place. I go to the Education Office on Monday next. 
 
 With the prospect of being able to marry within the year, 
 
 I could hardly do othermse. Yet I could not venture 
 
 with any comfort without the prospect of America beyond. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Council Office : August 29, 1853. 
 
 Eeally, I may say I am only just beginning to recover 
 my spirits after returning from the young, and hopeful, 
 and humane republic, to this cruel, unbelieving, inveterate 
 old monarchy. There are deeper waters of ancient know- 
 ledge and experience about one here, and one is saved 
 from the temptation of flying off into space, but I think 
 you have beyond all question the happiest and best country 
 going. Still the political talk of America, such as one 
 hears it here, is not always true to the best intentions of 
 the country, is it ? 
 
 Everybody is away from town, except a few stray lawyers 
 and newspaper contributors. I took a long walk yester- 
 day, calling at Plighgate, on the Homers, with a young 
 Morning Chronicler, son of the Vicar of Conway, a first- 
 class man at Oxford, and Fellow of University. Wc went
 
 1853.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 263 
 
 on beyond Higligate to a place called Muswell Hill, and 
 thence near Colney Hatch, near the Great Northern Kail- 
 way, and across the course of the New Kiver to Southwell, 
 where we got some luncheon, and then came back to 
 Hornsey, where we got an omnibus, after walking from 
 12.30 to 5. 
 
 I met the other day, at the Homers', Murray, the 
 ci-devant American, just come from Egypt, and starting 
 for Berne, where he is to have office : he is really very 
 American. The Pulskys came in in the evening. I have 
 met Mr. Pulsky three times in the last twelve months 
 perhaps — once in England before I came away; then at 
 Mrs. Howe's, Boston, with you ; and again yesterday, chez 
 Mrs. Horner. We meet with the utmost unconcern under 
 the oddest changes of circumstances; it is really very 
 cosmopolitan. 
 
 Well, I go on in the office — operose nihil agendo — very 
 operose, and very nihil too. London is dead empty, or 
 nearly so. The Lords are scampering through the last 
 bills, heaven knows how many per night. The Commons 
 are off grousewards, and scarcely anyone remains to ask 
 one to dinner or anything else.'^ 
 
 I am very glad to be enrolled among the (f). yS. /c.'s. 
 What can I do to express my sense of the honour done 
 me ? I assure you I am very glad of any tie wil^h my 
 sometime fellow-citizens, if I may so call them. England, 
 we who know America agree, is more endurable because 
 of one's knowledge of America as a refuge. However, 
 my employment in England is in one respect, namely in 
 its entire freedom from all spiritual despotism or surveil- 
 lance, more agreeable than what I used to have. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Council Office: September 21, 1853. 
 I sometimes get overpowered by the burden and weight 
 of Eiu'opeau inelropolitan life, and am driven in spirit to
 
 264 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Ciiap. XIL 
 
 the solution of Transatlantic new life, but as to the letter of 
 such palingenesy I can't say. I like the quill-driving very 
 well. I did not know how tired I had become of pedagogy 
 or 6o?/-driving till I learnt something of it by the change. 
 Beyond that mere fact, however, I do not know that there 
 is much interest in composing sheets of agenda. 
 
 I am very glad to hear something reasonable about 
 American politics. As for naturalisation, it seems to me 
 a little cloud that must cover a good space of the political 
 heavens before long. I think the old countries must 
 abandon their present doctrine of inalienable right. It 
 seems fair, however, to allow some interval of time ; and in 
 case of ' rebels,' I should say no fully naturalised citizen, 
 far less a man going to be a citizen, can claim with any 
 justice to return to his old country and be protected by 
 his new country. After full five years Kossuth could 
 not without insult go to Vienna. It would be quite 
 enough that he should go to Turkey or the Canton 
 Tessin, which I tvoidd claim for him. 
 
 The old classical sj^stem by which closer ties of relation- 
 ship between this country and that, than between this and 
 some third, seems no bad one. Between America and 
 England, between the British American Colonies in parti- 
 cular and the United States, one would be glad if there 
 coul4 exist some isopolity : that a man might be a citizen 
 in which he pleased, and change about as he chose. 
 Treaties with different countries might establish different 
 degrees of privilege very naturally. Had I remained with 
 you, I would gladly have become an American citizen ; but 
 I should not like to pledge myself to fight against England, 
 except in defence of my new country. It seems to me it 
 would be well if that degree of transfer were open to one.
 
 1853.] ARTIIUR HUGH CLOUfill. 265 
 
 To R. W. Emerson, Esq. 
 
 London: Sunday, Octobnr 9, 1853. 
 
 People are beginning to return now to their beloved 
 metropolis. Here is a specimen of the sort of thing I used 
 to try and represent to you. I went out this morning to do 
 civilities, this being the only day of the week free for that 
 object. I went first to Mr. Frank Newman, with whom was 
 a certain Dr. Stamra, abroad on a mission to or from a new 
 Religious Union or League, — he delivering himself of a sort 
 of Anima Mundi Religion ; Humanism, I think they call 
 it ; F. N. fraternising from a Theistic distance. Thence 
 I got to old Mr. Crabbe Robinson with Liberalism and 
 Abolitionism, &c. Then I went across country and made 
 a call in Belgravia, where presently in came two ladies, 
 
 one of whom (called by Mrs. B.'s little girl Miss Lord , 
 
 being sister to Lord ) is a very fair specimen of ari- 
 stocratic tradition. Then I fell in in my walk with Carlyle ; 
 and then two or three other casualties, which I omit. How- 
 ever, these changes of atmosphere do not affect me as 
 they used to do. On the whole, I do not think there is 
 much here you have to envy ; and there is a hopefulness 
 and a belieffulness, so to say, on your side, which is a great 
 compensation. 
 
 Your woods are in full beauty, I suppose, about this 
 time. There is somethinsf visible of autumnal richness even 
 here in the Regent's Park. 
 
 Thackeray is off to Paris. He seems restless and uneasy, 
 after his Transatlantic travel. Europe feels small to him. 
 
 To Charles E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 [On hearing of his father's death.] 
 
 London ; October 13, 1853. 
 The news your letter brought was no surprise. The 
 change in your father between the day when you first
 
 266 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cbap. XII. 
 
 brought me to Shady Hill, and that when he bade me 
 good-bye before going to Newport, was too great not to 
 give some warning. And, quite recently, the accounts 
 which I had had made me expect that your next letter 
 would be to this purpose. 
 
 My own feeling is really that, rather than anything else, 
 of your happiness in having so long and so much enjoyed 
 the blessing of your father's society. This is all the more 
 striking to me, as I was parted from my father at nine years 
 old, and hardly had begun to know him properly again 
 before his death, soon after I had taken my degree at 
 Oxford. I am truly glad that my visit to America was 
 early enough to let me know your father. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London: November 29, 1853. 
 
 It grieved me to the heart to think of my hostages being 
 returned ; and my books, &c. (much as I want them), being 
 already embarked. But thank you very much for dis- 
 charging that painful duty. I send you M. Arnold's 
 Poems. I myself think that the Gipsy Scholar is the 
 best. It is 80 true to the Oxford country. 
 
 December 9, 1853. 
 
 All news from your side is very acceptable ; political, 
 personal, and first-personal. I do a little Plutarch con- 
 tinually ; only a very little, I fear ; but it always brings 
 up some vision of the Common or Shady Hill, or the 
 Appian Way, or the road across from your gate towards 
 Allen and Farnham's. Things go on slowly and rather 
 dismally here in the December fog. 
 
 Tell Child not to be too learned about his Chaucer, for 
 my sake; and, above all, to make the verses scan. I 
 hesitate about recommending any indications of the metre 
 in the typography. But a set of simple directions, empha- 
 tically and prominently given at the outset (e.g. for the
 
 1854.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 267 
 
 sounding or silencing of the final e) will, I think, be essen- 
 tial. People won't read Chaucer against their ears. 
 
 There is a curious notion afloat among the German ex- 
 treme radicals, that Kussia is more hopeful than feudal 
 western Europe ; that the life of the Kussian commune is 
 pure democracy ; and except that every member is bound 
 to the soil, and cannot quit it except by placing himself 
 under the quasi-ownership of a seigneur, I believe there 
 is some truth in the statement. However, I don't think 
 we can afford to try. 
 
 Carlyle has, like Emerson, just lost his mother; like her, 
 I should think, rather a remarkable woman. He left the 
 Ashburtons' house in Hampshire just after I got there, to 
 go and see her at Ecclefechan, in Annandale. 
 
 Will you tell me, please, what is the amount of rate for 
 schools in Boston and Cambridge ? I am right, am I not, 
 in telling people that children of colour attend the 
 schools at Cambridge, but not at Boston ? 
 
 For a scrap of news — 
 
 Over-worked, over-hurried, 
 Over-Crokered, over-Murrayed. 
 
 Such was the monody uttered over himself by the 
 invalided ex-editor of the 'Quarterly,' on retiring for an 
 Italian seclusion. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Loudon: February 1854. 
 Here we are enjoying cool weather, with about as much 
 light per diem as you get in mid-winter, looking therefore 
 very cheerful and sunny. Meantime the Parliament is 
 going to begin its parliamenteering of the new year ; and 
 the Queen, who it was said was afraid her loyal subjects 
 might pelt her husband, is, it appears, not afraid, and is 
 going to open session in person. Many people, do you 
 know, really believed Prince Albert was actually sent to the
 
 268 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XI I. 
 
 * 
 
 Tower ; and some repairs being in operation in one of the 
 turrets, a large number of people collected to look on, in 
 the belief that apartments were to be fitted up for H.R.H. 
 
 I read your article on Indian Canals with much pleasure 
 and interest. I think it is very well done, and I hope it 
 is all true. I fancy the Company have rather gained in 
 public estimation by their late ordeal of trial. 
 
 Bright, you see, has for the first time come out for the 
 secular system. It is a great accession to that cause, which, 
 however, I think myself cannot prevail for our country 
 in general. For the clergy in the country parishes are 
 almost always the only persons who really exert themselves, 
 the population in general being at present too apathetic to 
 think of managing these matters. But in the municipal 
 towns something perhaps could be done. And certainly 
 all through the land the secular schools should receive 
 government subsidies, from which at present they are 
 excluded. 
 
 Convocation, you will perhaps observe, is allowed to sit, 
 and there really is to be an effort to set the old church a 
 going again ; much to its own and other people's alarm. 
 The census, by which it appears that the church people, so 
 far as attendance on Census Sunday went, are quite a 
 minority, has taken the world by surprise. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 February 20, 1854. 
 Many thanks for the 'Boston Daily Express.' I do truly 
 hope that you will get the North ere long thoroughly united 
 against any further encroachments. I don't by any means 
 feel that the slave system is an intolerable crime, nor do I 
 think that our system here is so much better ; but it is clear 
 to me that the only safe ground to go upon is that of your 
 Northern States. I suppose the rich and poor difficulties will 
 be creeping in at New York, but one would fain hope that 
 European analogies will not be accepted even there.
 
 1854.] ARTHUR nUGH CLOUGH. 269 
 
 Well, here we are going to war; and really people after 
 their long and dreary commercial period seem quite glad : 
 the feeling of the war being just is of course a great 
 thing. The enlightened or official opinion of the Turkish 
 troops meantime is extremely low. 
 
 As for the poems, I really do think seriously of accepting 
 your benevolent offer, but I don't think I can set to work 
 to unravel my weaved-up follies at the present moment. 
 There are very few, indeed, that I can at all find pleasure 
 in seeing again. 
 
 Is it true, as is said, that Longfellow has resigned ? If 
 so, he wll come over 'here and nin the gauntlet of idolising 
 young ladies, will he not ? However, I think he is adroit 
 enough to steer through the Belgravian multitude without 
 much damage. 
 
 People talk a good deal about Whewell's book on the 
 * Plurality of Worlds.' I recommend Fields to pirate it. It 
 is to show that Jupiter, Venus, Saturn, &c., are all pretty 
 certainly uninhabitable, being strange, washy limbos of 
 places, where at the best only mollusks (or in the case of 
 Venus, salamanders)could exist. Hence we conclude that we 
 are the only rational creatures, which is highly satisfactory, 
 and what is more, quite scriptural. Other scientific people, 
 on the other hand, declare it a most presumptuous essay, 
 conclusions audacious, and reasoning fallacious, though the 
 facts are allowed ; and in that opinion I, on the ground 
 tliat there are more things in heaven and earth than are 
 dreamt of in the inductive philosophy, incline to concur. 
 Meantime, it is thought possi))le that Whewell may rise to 
 the Episcopate on the wings of the orthodox inductive 
 philosophy. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Downing Street : May 9, 1854. 
 You will think I am perfide Albion itself. The fact is, I 
 have been overwhelmed with work, and imaginary respon-
 
 270 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XH. 
 
 sibility. Plutarch goes on, though with huge interruptions. 
 And I was very glad to see Felton. And I obeyed your 
 vermilion edict, and sent some verse by him ; if you do 
 think it worth while to be at the trouble, I will not be 
 ashamed. I have some few Elegiacs and Hexameters, 
 written at Rome during my visit there in the time of the 
 siege. 
 
 Politics here are rather colourless. Scotch education is 
 thrown overboard by a coalition between the landowners, 
 establishmentarians, and voluntaries, who have defeated 
 government by eight votes. The Oxford Bill will pass, with 
 a few scratches in committee rather damaging to it, but 
 not very momentous. Gladstone, I think, has done himself 
 great honour by refusing to borrow for the war, but the 
 bankers and great capitalists have been abusing him furi- 
 ously. By this time you are all scattering to the seas and 
 the hills, and Boston will be getting hot and empty, and 
 the shadow of the pines an object of exceeding desire, 
 but for the mosquitoes. 
 
 To R. W. Emerson, Esq. 
 
 Downing Street : June 10, 185-1. 
 
 It is now nearly a twelvemonth since I fled in that 
 precipitate, half-voluntary manner from Massachusetts. 
 Another fortnight will complete the year: and another 
 two days from this will, in all probability, see me married. 
 
 You, in the meantime, are in all the turmoil of a re- 
 newed slavery contest. From this distance it almost looks 
 as if the aggression would be of more use in breaking- 
 down the idea of compromise, than of harm in its actual 
 results. 
 
 I am going on here, working in the office in the ordinary 
 routine, which, however, after years of Grreek tuition is 
 really a very great relief. All education is in England, 
 and I think in America, so mixed up with religious 
 matters, that it is a great difficulty.
 
 1854.] ARTnUK HUGH CLOUGH. 271 
 
 To a E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 Lea Hurst, Matlock: June 28, 1854. 
 Your letter of congratulation arrived, curiously enough, 
 on the very morning of our marriage, and was a very 
 pleasant incident of the day. Felton's letter, announcing 
 a variety of kind remembrances, came three or four days 
 after, and was, I assure you, a very pleasant surprise 
 indeed. This place strangely reminds me of Shady Hill 
 last summer ; though it is not really very like it, being a 
 house on a broad open bank, a considerable height above 
 the river Derwent, the valley of which it looks down as it 
 flows from Matlock to Derby. Nor have we any of those 
 scorching heats which had begun before I left you, now 
 twelve months ago exactly. I am doing Plutarch, and 
 living in an in-and-out-of-doors sort of way. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Combo Hurst: August 19, 1854. 
 
 I have almost chosen a house, and in six weeks expect 
 to be a householder, with goods and chattels, and the post 
 householder sedens atra cura. 
 
 Cholera is amongst us, as you see, and laying low lords 
 even ; Lord Beaumont (but not by cholera) in the last 
 three weeks, besides Lord Jocelyn. 
 
 Did you see the * Examiner ' on Mrs. Stowe's * Sunny 
 Memories?' quite a severe article, and quite unnecessarily 
 so, I should say. The use of quite is a peculiarity which 
 I quite remarked myself, but I think you have quite a 
 right to use it as a substitute, if you please, for our less 
 exact * very,' and in colloquial writing no one ought to 
 object. I don't see that the old-country English are to 
 have the exclusive right of introducing new expressions.
 
 272 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 To F. J. Child, Esq., of Cambridge, Massachusetts. 
 
 Downing Street: September 2, 1854. 
 
 I hope the Chaucer is going on prosperously. I think 
 you should adopt means to make the metre quite obvious, 
 at any sacrifice of typographical prettiness. Yet I don't 
 like the grave accent, ' When Zephyrus eke with his sot6 
 breth,' and should almost prefer the v^, sote, but that it 
 seems unmeaning to use a mark of quantity. Yet it is 
 not a case of accent, either. I think I should in one way 
 or another mark every syllable that would not now be 
 pronounced, greves and leves and Emperoure's daughter 
 — the most correct mark would be e : Emperoure's ; sote. 
 And I should prefix to the whole a very plain and short 
 statement of the usage in these points. 
 
 I suppose there is not much doubt about a few general 
 rules, though Chaucer did not regularly observe them, as, 
 for example, the use of the e in adjectives after definite 
 articles, which it seems to me he omits occasionally, with 
 French adjectives, as if it was a matter of ear rather than 
 rule. So also with such Saxon dissyllables as tyme, which 
 is not invariably a dissyllable, I think. And yet it would 
 be worth while giving a list of such words as are liable 
 to be dissyllables. However, ere this, I dare say you have 
 settled all these preliminaries. I don't quite see what you 
 should do about the Miller's and the Eeve's tales. I think 
 explanation might be a little retrenched there, so as to 
 leave them in the 'decent obscurity of a learned language.' 
 They are thoroughly English stories, but I don't know 
 whether they are New English. They are just what would 
 be relished to this day in public-houses in farming dis- 
 tricts, but I can't say that I could wish them urged upon 
 any palate that does not already fancy them, and I don't 
 much admire the element in the English character that 
 does relish them. It is a great thing, no doubt, to do
 
 1854.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 273 
 
 dirty work, and the English are pretty good at it ; l)iit 
 when it ceases to be work, it is a different thing, and [ 
 don't see much good in it. 
 
 I think the Americans have the advantage of beincr less 
 * farceurs' than the British subject is apt to be. There is 
 a sort of servants'-hall facetiousness which predominates 
 in the cockney world, and finds its way into literature, 
 which I think deserves no sort of. imitation or admira- 
 tion. 
 
 I have just been taking a house in the extreme skirts 
 of the Eegent's Park, not far from the Zoological Gardens, 
 with a canal underneath it, and some very im-Venetian 
 gondolas, called here coal-barges, passing to and fro upon 
 it in the foreground, while in the distance rise the suburban 
 Alps of 'Ampstead and 'Ighgate — ' Oh breathe on them 
 softly ' — and a little to one side swells the pastural emi- 
 nence of Primrose Hill. 
 
 To C. E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 London : September, 1854. 
 
 I have never acknowledged yet, except per Professor 
 Child, Ph.D., your letter from Newport. Your descrip- 
 tion was somewhat amusing, as, in point of fact, I have 
 been in Newport, and have not been in the Isle of \\^ight. 
 I was at Newport at the age of six or seven, and passed 
 by it, moreover — scarcely, however, realising the scenes of 
 my infancy — in that swift transit commenced under your 
 auspices, from Boston via Fall Kiver to New York and the 
 'Asia' steamer. 
 
 London is empty, of course, and only excited by the 
 terror of cholera, which is however, I believe, subsidino-. 
 Positively, for two or three days last week, in the district 
 l)etween Leicester Square and Oxford Street, north and 
 south, and Soho Square and Pegent Street, east and west, 
 there were scenes not unlike those of the old Plague. It has 
 often been asserted that this was one of the great burvino-- 
 
 T
 
 274 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OP [Chap. XII. 
 
 places of the old 1665 plague, and this outbreak is by some 
 ascribed to this. However, virulent as it was, it was as 
 brief; and fortunately, perhaps, it came just at the begin- 
 ning of a new Health Eeport week, so that it did not get 
 into the papers till it was pretty well over. 
 
 Tell me a little about politics, as the weather gets cooler. 
 I-am at the mercy of the ' Times,' and don't believe that 
 it knows much about anything. Are there really any 
 'Know-nothings,' and is it really a matter of import- 
 ance ? That the Whigs will not, as a body, join as yet in 
 political alliance with the Free-soil party, I suppose is 
 true. 
 
 I send a little volume, * Scaliger's Poetics,' with John- 
 son's autograph (pretty certain, I believe), for your own 
 antiquarian appropriation, if you will have it. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Downing Street: October 24, 1854. 
 
 I went over to Calais last Saturday night, to see Flo- 
 rence Nightingale so far on her way to Scutari. She has 
 ten Sisters of Mercy proper, eight of Miss Sellon's, six of 
 a sort of Via Media institution, and ten other nurses 
 under her charge. 
 
 According to Lord Burghersh, the aide-de-camp, who is 
 just come home with despatches, Lord Raglan is every- 
 thing out there ; neither St. Arnaud nor Canrobert at all 
 compare with him. His advice carried it for landing 
 where they did, both the Frenchmen being for other 
 places, which experience afterwards showed would have 
 been impossible. His character has risen greatly in repu- 
 tation. In the middle of the fighting, when he rode up 
 into very dangerous places, looking after things, his aides- 
 de-camp remonstrated, and were answered by ' Be quiet ; 
 I'm busy.' Fortunately he is so wise as to wear nothing 
 but a plain foraging cap, and so is scarcely observed.
 
 1855.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 275 
 
 You, meantime, must be thinking more of the Arctic 
 than of the Crimea. Wlien I came over from New York 
 last summer, I remember the probability of some such 
 calamity happening being discussed on board the *Asia,' 
 when we met the * Andes' right upon our track, fortunately 
 on a clear day. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Downing Street : November 1854. 
 
 About this time two years we were very likely walkino- 
 about the streets of Boston together ; at present, I may 
 call myself just re-established in London. We took pos- 
 session of our abode in the Eegent's Park two nights ago. 
 
 There is immense interest, or rather anxiety, about our 
 little army in the Crimea. I passed some recruits the 
 other day, and a man looking on said, * They'll all be 
 killed, every man Jack of them ; I'm sorry for it.' Gene- 
 rally the feeling is of apprehension, or even worse, on the 
 arrival of untoward news. 
 
 To 
 
 Downing Street : January 18, 1855. 
 
 Of wars and rumours of wars we have of course enough. 
 The ' Times ' is blamed and believed ; the JNIinistry is 
 blamed and continued. I saw a Queen's messenger who 
 had just come from Constantinople with one set of des- 
 patches and was just returning with another. The journey 
 as performed by Queen's messenger is, it appears, at the 
 quickest, from Constantinople to Marseilles, six and a half 
 days ; from Marseilles to London, forty-seven hours. 
 
 This new Indian Civil Service scheme may, I dare say, in- 
 terest you. I rather regret that so little is made of Eastern 
 languages. I think Persian might be allowed as a study 
 almost co-ordinate with Latin and Greek, and quite with 
 French, German, and Italian, as at present valued in tlic 
 scheme. 
 
 t2
 
 276 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 To Professor F. J. Child. 
 
 London : January 31, 1855. 
 
 Here we are with, I am jvist told, the Tories in once 
 again. When they last came in, they drove me from 
 England into New England. I don't know how it will be 
 now. 
 
 Our literature, at present, is the war column in the 
 newspaper. The best military reports are those of the 
 ' Morning Herald,' I am told ; but Maedonald, the hospital 
 correspondent at Constantinople, has been more successful 
 practically then ever newspaper correspondent yet had 
 the glory of being. 
 
 February 2. 
 
 This steamer, it appears, will not quite certainly tell 
 you * under which ' Prime Minister we are to ' do our 
 duty,' but Palmerston must manage somehow we suppose. 
 Yesterday we believed that Lord Derby would be our 
 king, and Disraeli our foreign minister, Palmerston holding 
 the war department ; but that seems over altogether. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London : May 3, 1855. 
 
 Last week we had Emperor and Empress passing by 
 here under our windows, with Queen and Prince, in the 
 midst of applauding multitudes, and certainly there is no 
 denying Louis Napoleon's courage. 
 
 Unless Sebastopol gets taken before long, it will, I 
 think, upset the present ministry, and perhaps the present 
 aristocracy along with them ; and Laing, Layard, and 
 Lowe, if they can provide themselves with a sufficient Co., 
 may come in as the new parliamentary firm. The war, 
 which the great people, lords and statesmen, thought 
 would be unpopular in a few months, is more likely, I
 
 1855.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 277 
 
 tliiak, to become a popular question versus lords and 
 statesmen. There is no murmuring at the new taxes, 
 hut a good deal at the old politicians. 
 
 Here is an authentic anecdote from Vienna. The 
 French and English Plenipotentiaries ui'ged how natural 
 the arrangement would be that the Euxine should, like the 
 American lakes, be common to both nations ; to which 
 Prince Gortschakoff answered, that he should not object to 
 that, were there only a Niagara at the Dardanelles. 
 
 To G. E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 London : September 14, 1855. 
 
 So we have at last taken the besieged city. We here 
 took it very unconcernedly, when the great news gradu- 
 ally oozed out and then spread abroad, on INIonday evening 
 last. It is, however, an immense relief, privately as well 
 as publicly, and I do not doubt is felt as such. I confess 
 to my own feeling that Eussia should be let off easily. 
 What other power can bring North Asia into discipline? 
 I could be thankful to see her hold some port or have 
 some means of exit to the Atlantic, now that she has 
 learnt that the maritime powers are strong enough to 
 check her encroachments when they please. 
 
 To Professor F. J. Child. 
 
 London: October 29, 1855. 
 
 I have been astonished and delighted at once to see 
 Shady Hill reposing itself in St. James's Street. I had 
 hardly faith, I confess, to expect the removal of that 
 movmtain to this side of our common sea. 
 
 I congratulate you on having achieved * Spenser.' I hope 
 I shall see the work. Let me confess to having never yet 
 read one quarter of the 'Fairy Queen.' But you are 
 a much more literary nation than we. Few people, I
 
 278 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 fear, will return in England to the study of Plutarch's 
 Lives, and in working to the end of that attempt I can 
 only look forward to the readers of America. I hope it 
 will be pretty tolerably readable and correct when it does 
 at last present itself. Certainly, if I had tried to trans- 
 late it myself, it would have had a more Greek tone ; but I 
 don't think we any of us write so idiomatically now as 
 my friends of Charles II.'s time. 
 
 You see that we, that is our newspapers, after consider- 
 able bluster, mean decidedly to back out of any quarrelling 
 with you. The ' Times,' I think, decidedly feels that it 
 took a wrong step, and is walking out of its front position 
 with all possible celerity. 
 
 I hear you have undertaken the kind labour of putting 
 my 'Eeliquiae' through the press. If you like to add 
 epigraphs on fly-leaves, you might put before 'The Bothie: ' 
 
 Pauperis et tuguri congestum cespite culmen; 
 
 or, 
 
 Ite, meee, felix quondam pecus, ite camenje : 
 and before the Eoman verses — 
 
 Navibus atque 
 Quadrigis petimus bene vivere. 
 
 To a E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 London : July 11, 1856. 
 
 There is a severe review of Macaulay in to-day's 
 ' Times.' I myself like this better than the first pair of 
 volumes, chiefly, perhaps, because it has a more European 
 sul)iect to deal with. I have only detected one error 
 myself, but it is a very Macaulayesque one. He speaks 
 of ' the oaks of ]\Iagdalen :' they are elms. There was no 
 occasion to say anything but trees, but the temptation to 
 say something particular was too strong. Tt makes one
 
 185G.] AKTnUR HUGH CLOUGH. 279 
 
 distrust all his descriptions, and that of Grlencoe certainly 
 is thoroughly exaggerated without being at all character- 
 istic. 
 
 To Professor F. J. Child. 
 
 London: January 16, 1856. 
 
 I hope I shall get your Spenser ballads. I am not 
 enthusiastic, but the Chaucer I really think you may 
 bring to better shape than anyone has hitherto done. I 
 like Hiawatha ; and I think it is liked here generally, and 
 none the worse for being Indian. Are you really, any of 
 you, going to fight with your ancestors, about Costa Kica, 
 and the Clayton-Bulwer treaty ? I hope not ; not even 
 the ambitious Franklin Pierce himself. But Palmerston 
 is a sad haggler, and may, I dare say, go on insisting 
 about his Mosquito Protectorate, till he gets a warning. 
 
 I am examining among others for appointments in the 
 Engineers and Artillery, which are open to general com- 
 petition, and the candidates examined inter alia in English 
 composition, literature, and history. Hence, I can more 
 than pay my income tax, and, like the farmers, rejoice in 
 the war. But at present we all more than half expect 
 peace. Louis Napoleon is said to be pacific. For many 
 good reasons I also am pacific ; for if the war went on even 
 two years longer, we §hould kill Turkey with our kindness, 
 and have to encounter all the difficulties and disgrace of a 
 partition of her. The sick man is really very sick after 
 all, and doesn't get at all better, but rather worse. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London : November 13, 1856. 
 
 I must send a few lines to thank you for the Spenser, 
 which I am very much pleased to have. I am only sorry 
 that the notes are so very unobtrusive. 
 
 How is Cambridge? which Lowell reports so changed
 
 280 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cuap. XII. 
 
 that he should not have known it. I still retain a dollar 
 note, with the portraiture of the college buildings, flanked 
 by the faces of Judge Story and some other eminence ; but 
 all this, I suppose, eminences included, will have become 
 obsolete by this time. 
 
 Here there is nothing very new, nor anything particu- 
 larly true, to tell. Until the next French revolution all 
 things \n\\ continue. ■ Meantime, omnes omnia mala 
 dicere, we anticipate no good. Charles Norton dines with 
 us this evening, valedictorily. 
 
 I have been reading pretty nearly through Crabbe 
 lately. Have you republished Crabbe ? If not, you ought 
 to do so. There is no one more purely English (in the 
 Dutch manner), no one who better represents the general 
 result through the country of the last century. His 
 descriptions remind even me of things I used to see and 
 hear of in my boyhood. And sometimes, though rarely, 
 he has really the highest merit, e. g. Euth, in the ' Tales 
 of the Hall.' 
 
 To Charles Norton, Esq. 
 
 London : January 22, 1857. 
 
 We are here going on much as usual, occupied with 
 nothing else but commerce and the money market. I do 
 not think anyone is thinking audibly of anything else. 
 Some disaster, perhaps, in the realm of Dost Mahomed 
 may startle us out of our mercantile composure, but at 
 present the only danger we care to think about is that of 
 being garotted, and the main business of the new Parlia- 
 ment will be to see about transportation of possible 
 garotters. 
 
 I have read mth more pleasure than anything I have 
 seen lately Kane's * Arctic Explorations,' which is certainly 
 a wonderful story, and the book, moreover, very well got 
 Vip at Philadelphia. I think I did see Kane at Boston in 
 the spring before he started ; I have a distinct image of
 
 1857.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 281 
 
 his figure. The whole narrative is, I think, very charac- 
 teristic of the difference between the English and the 
 American-English habits of command and obedience. 
 
 The first volume of Plutarch is to appear next month. 
 I think the later volumes are much better, or at least 
 less open to criticism. The life of Pericles was wretchedly- 
 done in the Dryden, and ought to have been re-written. 
 Plutarch's best life is Anton}', I think. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London : August 1857. 
 
 I hope you really did arrive in Boston safe and sound. 
 Our parliament is at last going away. Indian news 
 appeiu-s to create no sort of alarm,' scarcely so much as 
 anxiety; for one reason, people must take their holiday 
 even from their anxieties. The atrocities are of course 
 felt pretty strongly. 
 
 This town is hot, dusty, and of ill odour, and very dif- 
 ferent from Westmoreland, where we Avere together last. 
 
 September 3. 
 
 News from India, I think, is getting to be felt more 
 seriously. 
 
 October 31. 
 
 Well, Delhi is taken, which is a happy thing, though 
 one dreads to hear of the details. Captures of cities are 
 horrible at the best, and this cannot have been at the 
 best, with wild Sikhs, and no quarter, and a wealthy and 
 luxurious metropolis. 
 
 If you have read the letters in the ' Times,' you will 
 have noticed Indophilus, i.e. Sir Charles Trevelyan, (who 
 ought, iu proper Greek, to call himself Philindus ; 
 Indophilus would be more properly 'beloved of the 
 Hindoos '). Leadenhall Street is full of the humane 
 feeling, and would back up Lord Canning's proclama- 
 tion, and Mr. Grant's Allahabad releases, with all its
 
 282 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 influence. It may be right, but it is not discreet ; it is 
 not possible yet to enforce clemency. They should have 
 waited till Delhi had fallen, and Lucknow been relieved. 
 So, at least, we think here. The Company, however, is 
 sadly at a discount, and will have hard work to maintain 
 any of its power. The War Department, I believe, is very 
 hard upon it. Sir Eobert Vivian, who commanded the 
 Turkish Contingent, and who is one of* the directors 
 appointed by the Crown, spoke the other day of the out- 
 break at Meerut and Delhi as a thing that ought to have 
 been put down at once. He believes there was no sort of 
 general conspiracy on foot, and urges the irregular and 
 utterly indiscreet way in which the regiments have mutinied, 
 here and there, and at the worst chosen times and places. 
 Neill commanded a brigade under him in the Crimea. 
 He quite disapproved of Neill's outrages on the caste 
 feeling at Cawnpore. I confess I don't. I think we 
 may break down caste one way or other, and ally our- 
 selves with the Sikhs and the Buddhists of Nepaul, &c., 
 whose religions are reasonable and comparatively uncere- 
 monial. 
 
 I don't believe Christianity can spread far in Asia 
 unless it will allow men more than one wife, which isn't 
 likely yet, out of Utah. But I believe the old Brahmin 
 touch-not-and-taste-not, and I-am-holier-than-thou-be- 
 cause-I-don't-touch-and-taste, may be got rid of. As for 
 Mahometanism, it is a crystallised theism, out of which no 
 vegetation can come. I doubt its being good even for the 
 central negro. 
 
 To J. R. Lowell, Esq., Cambridge. 
 
 Downing Street: January 5, 1858. 
 You have just got half the 'Amours de Voyage' (for the 
 'Atlantic Monthly'); there will be two more reports, and 
 then all will end in smoke. The poem has been suppressed
 
 1858.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 283 
 
 to the orthodox maturity of the niuth year, but, like poor 
 wine, it is, I fear, only the worse for not having been 
 drunk and forgotten long ago. 
 
 The ' Atlantic Monthly,' I hope, makes its way. I am 
 glad to see it so national, so little characterised by any 
 mercantile importations from our side. I have a great 
 distaste to the prevalent professional literature of the 
 metropolis, a fungoid vegetation springing up on the 
 rotting remains of the giants of the old literary forest, 
 whose honours are no more. 
 
 To a E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 London: March 26, 1858. 
 
 Many thanks for your kind inquiries after my wife and 
 family : they are very well, especially the 'family.'* 
 
 Things have been tolerably eventful over here of late, 
 have they not? I confess myself a sort of admirer of 
 Orsini, though I do not consider assassination good policy, 
 and therefore consider it wrong. 
 
 A Tory government, meantime, is a strange dispensation 
 to live under ; happily it is only on sufferance. Lord 
 Palmerston, we consider, fell chiefly through his appoint- 
 ment of Lord Clanricarde. 
 
 The days of the Company you will, of course, have felt 
 to be numbered, on seeing Lord Ellenborough gazetted as 
 President of the Board of Control. 
 
 To Professor F. J. Child. 
 
 April 10, 1858. 
 
 I am very glad there is a prospect of your coming over 
 here; but doubtless you will transform yourself into a 
 worm, and be during your whole visit lost to sight in the 
 MSS. of the British Museum. Nevertheless, even so, 
 
 * ' The family ' was his eldest daughter Florence, born Feb. 10, 1858.
 
 284 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 pray do not fail to come over. Charles Norton, I hope, is 
 well through the winter. By this time the snows are 
 beginning, I suppose, to disappear in your parts : in a 
 month or so the Common will begin to exchange its brown 
 for its green suit ; there will be buds in the Washington 
 elm ; frogs will again be vocal, and double-robins visible. 
 
 Do you see that the Frenchman who translated the Can- 
 terbury Tales has found at Paris the original of the 
 'Squire's Tale,' 30,000 lines? I wonder if it is like 
 Spenser's, in any respect. 
 
 The great literary success of the last twelve months has 
 been Buckle's ' History of Civilisation.' Really, it is 
 wonderful what numbers of people have read this thick 
 volume, and what a reputation its author has gained by it. 
 High and low — and high quite as much as low — write in 
 its praise. Are you Buckle-bewitched in Boston, or do 
 you retain a sane mind ? 
 
 I do not suppose that anybody finds much natural 
 pleasure in my five-act epistolary tragi-comedy, or 
 comi-tragedy. I like Part III. rather better than its 
 predecessors myself; but other people, I dare say, Avill 
 not. I think it will have some merit in its conclusion ; 
 but to that also, I dare say, there will be no affirmation 
 but my own. However, so it was, and no otherwise could 
 be. So much for keeping poems nine years, instead of 
 burning them at once. 
 
 Tennyson's two unpublished Arthur poems gave me 
 pleasure, and I am sorry they do not appear. Otherwise 
 England seems as unpoetical as , between Chaucer and 
 Spenser. 
 
 To a E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 London : April 17, 1858. 
 Perhaps the beginning of May will find you once more 
 at Shady Hill, for the brief North American interval 
 between the two penal fierce extremes of heat and cold.
 
 1858.] ARTHUR IIUGII CLOUOII. 285 
 
 Between the two India Bills, the Directors, it is thought, 
 will escape for the present, and survive a little longer. I 
 myself was not so absolutely unfavourable to the Ellen- 
 borough Bill as the English world in general. I desire 
 much to see a franchise given to those who have served. 
 That offered to the five towns is perhaps impracticable. 
 My notion is to make a great Council of all who have 
 served in certain offices, and give them the appointment 
 of half the Executive Council. But our people hate all 
 refinements of this sort. 
 
 Politics are almost at a dead lock with us. Palmerston 
 cannot come back with his own party alone to back him. 
 Lord John Russell has joined Milner Gijbson, and has 
 formed a sufficient body of opponents in the Liberal part 
 of the House to make it impossible for Palmerston to get 
 sufficient support there. So that for the present the 
 Derby people stay, and are almost ashamed and indignant 
 to stay, by the help of Lord John and his Manchester 
 allies. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London: May 17, 18 ,5 8. 
 
 Things here are in sad confusion. Lord Ellenbo- 
 rough, who is really competent, has thrown himself 
 overboard, and cannot be by his best friends acquitted 
 of a great indiscretion. In India the enemy all abroad 
 again, and a hot weather campaign before us. Not, how- 
 ever, it seems, by Sir Colin's fault ; for he was bid to clear 
 all the other districts first, and. not till then to attack 
 Lucknow, but was overruled by Lord Canning. John 
 Mill, it. is said, does not consider Lord Canning's procla- 
 mation wrong ; but is very sorry, on general grounds, to 
 lose Lord Ellenborough. 
 
 Pray read Hogg's 'Life of Shelley.' It is a great 
 pleasure to see Shelley really alive, and treading the 
 vulgar earth — Hogg's transparent absurdity being the 
 only intervening impediment.
 
 286 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 I am reading, too, Griadstone's ' Homer : ' it is very 
 direct and plain-sailing, and in that respect is an agreeable 
 contrast to German annotation. The working out of his 
 theory about Danaans, Achasans, Argives, and Hellenes 
 was to me satisfactory ; bat at the end he goes off all at 
 once out of his depth into general ethnology. Gladstone's 
 uncompromising belief in Homer and the heroes, as real 
 people, gives the book a solidity and substance which 
 is acceptable. Carl3de said he read carefully Homer and 
 the controversy some years ago, and was quite convinced 
 that ' Iliad ' and * Odyssey ' were written at different ages 
 — the ' Odyssey' by one man, the ' Iliad ' not ; and he likes 
 the ' Odyssey ' best. He thinks any one mad who holds 
 the ' Iliad ' and ' Odyssey ' to be written by one man. 
 
 While I wrote, came a rumour, hot from a private 
 secretary, that news had come from India that the procla- 
 mation had been stopped at the last moment, at the 
 entreaty of Sir C. Campbell, Sir John La^vrence, Outram, 
 and Mansfield, who went on their knees to Lord Canning, 
 and besought him, in the name of England's honour, no 
 less than for the sake of present security. So that, if this 
 be true, Lord Ellenborough is right after all. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Cowley House, Oxford: May 21, 18.58. 
 Hither we came on the 19th on a visit. Yesterday we 
 went about walking, and seeing things and people — new 
 things and old people ; heard a lecture from Max Miiller 
 on the origin of the French language ; thence, to the 
 new Museum in the Venetian style, by Woodward. I 
 think Venetian windows, whose beauty is their deep 
 setting, might do for you who have some sun to keep out ; 
 for us, not. We want light, and must place the glass too 
 near the outer plane of the walls to allow the proper 
 effect to the tracery.
 
 1858.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 287 
 
 The M.P.s meet to-night for their great decision. Already, 
 perhaps, the new evidence of the government despatches 
 is in their hands. A proclamation, it is clear, has been 
 issued, and an altered proclamation. A private letter tells 
 lis that the Ministry may possibly have a majority of five 
 or six — a different story from that which prevailed when 
 I began this letter. Wednesday, the day of our coming 
 here, intervened, with the absorbing interests of the Derby. 
 To be winner of the Derby while in office as Prime Minis- 
 ter, was, it is said, Lord Derby's ambition, but would be, 
 it was thought, too high a felicity for any simply human 
 Earl. Toxophilite's defeat may, it is presumed, be the 
 inevitable sacrifice that may avert the parliamentary 
 catastrophe. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Downing Street : June 23, 1858. 
 
 I have had, mirabile dictu, a letter from Emerson, who 
 reprimanded me strongly for the termination of the 'Amours 
 de Voyage,' in which he may be right, and I may be 
 wrong ; and all my defence can only be, that I always 
 meant it to be so, and began it with the full intention of 
 its ending so ; but very likely I was wi'ong all the same. 
 
 I cannot help wishing to preserve some Corporate 
 Body or Privy Council for India, to elect half the 
 Ministers' Council, though I have no liking for the 
 constituency of 7,000 or 8,000 to whom Lord Stanley 
 did propose to give this power. 
 
 Last night I heard Tennyson read a third Arthur poem : 
 the detection of Guenevere and the last interview with 
 Arthur. These poems all appear to me to be maturer 
 and better than any he has written -hitherto. 
 
 As for wars and rumours of wars, I trust we need not 
 alarm ourselves at present. I hope the French are at 
 heart pacific ; they cannot well afford the money for a 
 war, and though I believe they might inflict, if the
 
 288 LETTEKS AND REMAINS OF [Chap, XU. 
 
 chances favoured them, immense damage upon us, in the 
 end they would find themselves the weaker vessels. Their 
 population, it is said by the statistical authorities, is 
 decreasing, and they ought to nurse their vitality care- 
 fully. It has not yet recovered the losses of the wars of 
 1812-15. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Do\niing Street : July 30, 1858. 
 
 We are cooler and less odorous than we were, and I 
 begin to hope that we may get to the end of August 
 without any terrible outbreak of cholera. Time has often 
 been compared to a river : if the Thames at London 
 represent the stream of traditional wisdom, the compari- 
 son will indeed be of an ill savour. The accumulated 
 wisdom of the past will be proved upon analogy to be, as 
 it were, the collected sewage of the centuries, and the 
 great problem, how to get rid of it. 
 
 In a commercial point of view, the publication of the 
 
 * Amours' has been a great event to me. This is the first 
 
 money I ever received for verse-making, and it is really a 
 
 very handsome sum. 
 
 October 1. 
 
 I have just read the * Courtship of ]Miles Standish' with 
 much pleasure. I think in one or two points the story 
 .should have been differently managed ; but it is a very 
 pleasant poem. 
 
 A perversion, as the Anglican people call it, seems to 
 me a very sad thing ; it is, according to all experience, so 
 irrevocable a change. I have known one or two instances 
 of a return out of the Babylonish Captivity, but they 
 seem rarel}'' to happen. 
 
 The only remarkable phenomenon of the time is a con- 
 tinuous one ; viz. the comet, which is a really wonderful, 
 portentous-looking, historical sort of comet, with a tail 
 sweeping a considerable space in the northern skies. It
 
 1858.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 289 
 
 sets at 9 p.m., but leaves its streamer behind it for some 
 time. 
 
 Another continuous study with me is Earth's ' Africa,' 
 which is really worth reading, laborious though it be, and 
 needlessly filled up with daily records. Earth is, I believe, 
 gone back to Hamburg, his native place; a little disap- 
 pointed, perhaps, with finding so little come of his long 
 toil. Livingstone published just after him, and took the 
 wind out of his sails. Yet there is more permanently valu- 
 able and curious information in Earth, though Livingstone 
 will do more himself in a practical way, we will hope. 
 
 There is as yet but a very slight ripple on the face of 
 our political waters. The interest taken in these mat- 
 ters by the nation seems to grow less and less. People 
 will not mind if the other party come in, but they don't 
 want Lord Palmerston again ; and if these men don't play 
 the fool in some way, they may stay in. Your matters 
 are more serious. 
 
 India, I suppose, will keep us at the military boiling- 
 point for some time to come (more's the pity, perhaps, if 
 only France were safely pacific I) and improvements in 
 organisation will slowly creep in : they are certainly much 
 wanted. In the medical department a good deal has been 
 effected this year. 
 
 I am greatly ashamed of om- English proceedings in 
 this France-bullying-Portugal case. So far as I can see, 
 it has been sheer timidity ; terror of being taken unde- 
 fended while India is still unsettled, and ought to disgrace 
 us in the eyes of all European nations. Eut there may 
 be diplomatic explanations proving France in the technical 
 right. 
 
 Eright and his speech at Birmingham deserve notice. 
 But I doubt whether he can rouse the towns ; and people 
 in general, i.e. the people who are more or less repre- 
 sented, care little about it. I believe that a Keform 
 would give us a better and more rational House of Com-
 
 290 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 mons ; but many things press. Keform takes up so much 
 time, and gives so much trouble ; how is the Gfovernment 
 to be carried on meantime, the government of India in- 
 cluded ? 
 
 To the Same, 
 
 London : January 26, 1859. 
 
 Child brought me your present of Emerson's picture, 
 which is really, I think, without any question, the best 
 portrait of any living and kno-svn-tb-me man that I have 
 ever seen. It is a great pleasure to possess it. 
 
 Bright's agitation will bear fruits. The Ministerial Bill 
 would have been very different without this. Bright is 
 scoffed at in the metropolitan 2Dapers, and at all clubs. 
 But his hold on the country is such as no M.P. whatever, 
 except himself, possesses ; and in the main, the course he 
 has taken is right, I think. Lord Stanley seems to be a 
 present guarantee for the tolerable government of India ; 
 but he, of course, may go any day. I wish the Council 
 were on a surer basis : the self-electing plan can hardly be 
 permanent, 
 
 February 9. 
 
 They say it is to be peace. France is utterly indisposed 
 to fight ; so much so as to praise ' la sagesse Anglaise' for 
 discrediting the sentimental Imperial oratory, and holding 
 fast to treaties as they are, and peace, with or without 
 goodwill, upon earth. Moreover, the sinews of war are 
 wanting. Kothschild will not lend money to Austria, and 
 only acts as commission agent for the loan. 
 
 People are a little agog about the Bible-in-India ques- 
 tion. Old Indians seem to be pretty tolerably unanimous 
 against having it read in the schools.
 
 1859.] ARTITUR HUGH CLOUflH. 291 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London : April 1, 1859. 
 
 I am getting on with ' The Bothie,' acting on a criticism 
 which appeared to me correct, that the letters and ser- 
 monising parts were too long and least to the point. I 
 believe I may have cut out something which for old ac- 
 quaintance you may regret, but the general effect to 
 a new reader will, I think, be improved; and a reduction 
 in the amount of disquisition was certainly required. 
 
 Excuse this letter all about my own concerns. I am 
 pretty busy, and have time for little else ; such is our fate 
 after forty. My figure forty stands nearly three months 
 behind me on the roadway, unwept, unhonoured, and im- 
 sung; an octavum lustrum bound up and laid on the 
 shelf. ' So-and-so is dead,' said a friend to Lord 
 Melbourne, of some author. ' Dear me, how glad I am ! 
 Now I can bind him up.' 
 
 Here is a jest of Lord Derby's to a friend who told 
 him he was in a great mess. 'Yes,' replied he, 'but 
 Benjamin's mess is five times greater than those of his 
 brethren.' 
 
 We have been having deaths lately for our news, as 
 for example that of William Arnold, who, after lying ill 
 for some time at Cairo, started and sailed from Alexandria 
 just as one of his brothers was coming in to see him, just 
 set his foot on Europe, and died, at St. Roque, a few miles 
 from Gibraltar ; a great loss, I think, public and private. 
 
 To the Same* 
 
 May 27, 1859. 
 
 As for the war, alas ! to whom can we desire success ? 
 Graribaldi is the only person I s}Tiipathise with. I hope 
 he will do something. But how can it end otherwise 
 than ill? 
 
 u 2
 
 292 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XIT. 
 
 Here is the dictum of the Due de Malakhoff : ' Nous 
 les battrons, nous leur offrirons des conditions bien douces. 
 lis les refuseront. Puis, nous les battrons encore, et nous 
 leur offrirons des conditions bien dures. lis les accepte- 
 ront.' Meantime, the French feeling has become, it ap- 
 pears, universally warlike ; and the wise people think that 
 the dynasty, which must have fallen otherwise, will, unless 
 the Austrians drive all before them, be secured. 
 
 I have never thanked you for your article on Sleeman's 
 ' Oude,' which came safely to hand, and which I fear is 
 only too favourable to British rule. Let us, however, 
 hope for the best, though the climate is so sadly against 
 any fair development of English qualities, and the war 
 has left behind it a fierce and insulting spirit. 
 
 Disraeli, in answer to some friendly regrets at his fall, 
 said it could only be a check for a time. But I think 
 Palmerston may regain the general confidence of the 
 country, as he has in a great measure of the liberal mem- 
 bers, or at any rate the liberal statesmen, and may per- 
 haps maintain himself, even if Lord John secede. The 
 new Ministry will be strongly Italian in composition ; 
 Lord John and Grladstone in addition to Palmerston. It 
 is almost to be feared that they will outrun the national 
 feeling, and go too much in the track of Louis Napoleon. 
 We who live nearer to Louis Napoleon, with only the 
 Channel, and not the whole Atlantic to divide and protect 
 us from him, do not feel quite the same liberty to indulge 
 the natural feelings of enthusiasm in witnessing his ag- 
 grandisement in Europe, though it be merely as a liberator 
 that he effects it at present. One thing I devoutly hope ; 
 that, with French influence predominating in Italy, the 
 Pope will go to the dogs, with all his canaille accompany- 
 ing. Evidently the conclave fear this, and there is no 
 doubt at all that instructions came from Rome to the 
 Roman Catholic leaders that they should support liord
 
 1859.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 293 
 
 Derby, who would support Austria. It lias not been 
 imiforraly obeyed, but that the order was issued is, I be- 
 lieve, certain. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 London: July 22, 1859. 
 
 I shall be very glad indeed of your notice of Plutarch 
 in the ' North American.' I hope the Lives will be read- 
 able to the young public of 3'our most reading country. 
 Meantime Plutarch has arrived here, and certainly looks 
 very well ; but they have not put in all the errata I sent. 
 I hope the young America will read it. Young England, 
 I fear, is too critical, and thinks Plutarch an old fool. 
 
 Here we are reading the last bulletin of that wonderful 
 melodramatic genius Napoleon TIL, of which what can be 
 said? ' L'Empire, c'est Ja paix ! ' Certainly one did not 
 desire the enfranchisement of Italy to be effected by his 
 means ; and one may hope, also, that the general result will 
 be to damage him and his dynasty. 
 
 Mill's * Dissertations ' and Tennyson's ' Idylls of the 
 King ' are also before an admiring public. I certainly 
 think these Idylls are the best thing that Tennyson has 
 done. 
 
 We are having a burning July, and the length of our 
 day makes it in some respects worse than it would be in a 
 more southern latitude. But, after all, 90° in the shade 
 was not, I think, what we endured when I lived with you 
 at Shady Hill, six yeats ago. You should come here again 
 soon, and we will try and sweeten the Thames for 3'ou 
 ' during the current year.' 
 
 I think Louis Napoleon less formidable since the Italian 
 war, unless the army prove to have tasted blood and to be 
 greedy for more, in which case of course he must let them 
 have it. But I don't much believe in the love of the 
 French soldier for war ; he wants to go to his Jjciijs again. 
 
 Dana has sent his l)Ook on Cuba, which is very pleasant
 
 294 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 reading. And is he really gone off again to circumnavigate 
 the orbis veteribus notus ? I have always felt an instinc- 
 tive desire to go round, and have coveted the sensation of 
 having ascertained the fact by one's own bodily locomotion. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 September 9. 
 
 I begin a sheet just to say that we are leaving the house 
 
 in which you saw us, near the Eegent's Park, and have 
 
 taken one on Campden Hill, Kensington, far to the west. 
 
 It is just under Macaulay's. 
 
 October 13. 
 
 Plutarch is too dear for the English ; however, a favour- 
 able article, and really I think a good article, in the 
 * Atheneeum,' has put a little wind in its sails. Plutarch 
 is not sought for here as a library book; indeed he is 
 quite put out of fashion by Thirlwall, Grote and Co., and 
 some effort is needed to recall attention to him. 
 
 The French Emperor's ' allocution ' to the Cardinal at 
 Bordeaux is a slight improvement on his doings lately; 
 perhaps a feeler to the country, for if he were not afraid 
 of the popular adherence to the Pope and clergy in 
 France, I suppose he would certainly take the holy father 
 by the temporal beard in Bologna. 
 
 Council Office : December 5. 
 
 We are here in a state of rifle fever, which I do not 
 think will be allayed by the imperial smooth words. 
 Palmerston is not to go to the Congress, and France, I 
 fear, will do as she pleases. 
 
 I was glad to have your account of Brown. His be- 
 haviour before his death struck me quite in the way in 
 which you regard it : nothing could be plainer, and more 
 composed and upright.
 
 18G0.] ARTIIUK HUGH CLOUGII. 'J9;j 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Hastings: Ducwiibcr 2\), 1859. 
 
 I have been sent here for ventilation, after an attack of 
 scarlatina, which made me an inconvenient neighbour to a 
 little boy* just born to us, who arrived on the 16th of this 
 month. This is dull enough, the old town with the old 
 churches in the hollow between the East liilland the West 
 Hill, the latter crowned by remnants of the castle, the new 
 town stretching along the shore for nearly a couple of miles, 
 one row deep, with a handsome sea terrace all along. 
 
 Here my chief discovery has been a cottage improve- 
 ment society, so successful as to pay yearly dividends of 
 6 per cent. The working man is my doctor — Dr. (ireen- 
 hill — who is secretary. Most of these societies have been 
 quite failures as regards finance. The principles here are 
 (1) Eepairing, not building; (2) Eigorous collection of 
 rents. There is a benevolent society attached to the cot- 
 tage society, but it acts quite separately. Kent is rent, 
 and charity, charity. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 January 2G, 18G0. 
 Your artist friend, Stillman, has presented his creden- 
 tials ; he called at Campden Hill, and of course I was out ; 
 but we hope to see him on Sunday, to dinner, in the 
 ' native American ' manner, at 2 p.m. 
 
 :Maivli 3. 
 
 Stillman has commenced operations on my face, and 
 returns to the charge on Monda3^ He is making many 
 friends. We dined with him at Eobert Mackintosh's a 
 week ao-o, which much reminded me of Longfellow's 
 
 •o 
 
 * HiK seuoiid t-liild, Artluir.
 
 296 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XII. 
 
 dinner-table. I have read your critique on Plutarch in 
 the ' Atlantic Monthly ' carefully since I wrote, and find it 
 very satisfactory. The early lives are certainly faulty. I 
 did not feel as if it was done rightly till I was doing Otho 
 and Galba. The life which is most mine is that of Deme- 
 trius, which is really almost mine. Dion, however, is just 
 about an average specimen. 
 
 When is Rowse coming over ? Will you give him a 
 letter to me ? I continue to think his picture of Emerson 
 the best portrait I know of anyone I know. 
 
 How unsatisfactory the world in general is just now I 
 The French having made a ' belle guerre ' for an idea, are 
 now bent on realising their ideas. The Pope, after all, 
 won't be sent a-begging. Austria will yet bully Hungary 
 with the help of her big brother further east, and the big 
 brother, with the help of the smaller one, will have his 
 own bad way in Turkey, probably. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 21 Campden Hill Road : July 13, 1860. 
 
 I had your letter, heaping coals of fire on my head, last 
 Monday. I enclose a fragment of the past, in token of my 
 having contributed somewhat to the pavement below in 
 respect of you. 
 
 To break one's toe is no fair reason against using one's 
 fingers, but it prevents one's walking, and impairs one's 
 energies in general. Rowse has done me very nearly. 
 You will, I hope, have a photograph, and I hope he won't 
 spoil it before he finishes. He has done Owen, and seems 
 well pleased with his work, but is sadly afflicted with 
 Heimweh. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 July 20, 1860. 
 To-da}^ I was at a breakfast party of statisticians, 
 attending tlie International Statistical Congress, and met
 
 18()0.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 297 
 
 Dr. Jervis from your parts. Quetelet, the divine statis- 
 • tician, I have also seen. He is getting rather feeble with 
 age, and complains of forgetting names. A certain Swede, 
 un nomme Berg, is said to be the aureus alter who will 
 succeed to the primacy. 
 
 Shall you see that Oxford traveller, the Prince of Wales? 
 He is my grand-pupil. His Oxford tutor was my pupil. 
 We are lingering on here sadly, waiting for the end of 
 Parliament, and having no summer. People talk of a 
 grand fusion of the Conservative and Liberal-Conservative 
 parties, modern Tories and modern Whigs making one solid 
 national defence against Bright and the Eadicals. Things 
 tend a good deal that way, but unless Bright and the 
 Eadicals become formidable indeed, personal jealousies 
 will keep the aristocratic parties in a state of separation. 
 They have, however, acted together this session, and have 
 succeeded in staving off Parliamentary Reform, and in 
 some other things. The future is quite obscure. I don't 
 think, however, that any ministry will venture on an 
 unliberal foreign policy, though there may be some quiet 
 rapprochement to the Germans, Austrians even included. 
 The nation generally holds, I think, to alliance with the 
 French in general, and to support of Italy with or with- 
 out the French. 
 
 Rowse went off yesterday for Southampton. His picture 
 of Owen is very good ; that of me is less successful. He 
 was interrupted in the midst of it, was delayed by sore 
 eyes, and then had to go to Owen ; but still it is a very 
 sfood likeness. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Granton House, Edinburgh: October 11, 1860. 
 Your letter of the 24th came to me two days ago at 
 Glasgow, and was a very pleasant surprise. We were 
 passing througli, and I liad not tliought of receiving any- 
 thing. We liave been spending a more than usual length of
 
 298 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap XII. 
 
 time in holidays. We had a visit to Fryston in Yorkshire, 
 and after passing through the Highlands to Oban, made a 
 three weeks' stay in Morven (the Morven of Ossian or 
 Macpherson), a very out-of-the way district, whence we 
 had some difficulty in effecting a return ; the equinoctial 
 gales having delayed the steamer and broken up the 
 roads. 
 
 We are staying here with Sir John MacNeill, the 
 Crimean Commissioner and sometime Envoy in Persia ; 
 he has the charge of the administration of the Poor Laws 
 in Scotland. The Highland population is passing through 
 the stage of decrease. Emigration has been going on 
 pretty actively since the famine of 1846 and 1847, and 
 lona, for example, which had 500, has now 250 inhabi- 
 tants. The emigrants send back money to bring out 
 their friends, and this will continue. Sir John MacNeill, 
 however, who has had a good deal to do with it, expects 
 that the population will recover when the new methods of 
 cultivating (or using) the soil are established. Such has 
 been the case in many formerly Highland and now really 
 Lowland places. 
 
 I am fflad to hear of Kowse's restoration to life and 
 happiness in his native land. 
 
 To the Sarae. 
 
 Council Office : October 25, 1860. 
 
 I have just sent off the corrected 'Bothie,' and two copies 
 of all the little poems. We have been here in town for about 
 ten days, but I think very likely we shall go to Malvern for a 
 • week to complete our holiday, and for a little gentle water- 
 cure for me, who am a little out of order, and not quite in 
 vigour for the ten months' campaign shortly to commence. 
 Louis Napoleon is said to be very cross, having offered 
 his company at Warsaw, and had it declined; however, 
 if he is cross that way, all the better. But why does he
 
 I860.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 299 
 
 keep his paw on the patrimony of St. Peter, and exchide 
 the hiwful heir Victor Emmanuel? The popular feeling 
 in France is said to be very strong for Garibaldi, but 
 there is some considerable jealousy in the army, where 
 Lamoriciere's disgrace touches professional vanity, and 
 where Garibaldi is, I suppose, not acceptable in himself. 
 
 Was not the Duke of Newcastle quite wrong to take our 
 young Prince to Richmond, wliere it is well known there is 
 a blackguard population ? They say here it is his fault. 
 However, it is no great harm, specially as it happened in 
 a proud slave state. Just now you will be thinking about 
 Presidents, not Princes ; eight years ago, I think, you 
 were busy electing Pierce, and I was just starting per 
 Canada to visit you.
 
 300 LETTEES AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIIT. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FAILING HEALTH HIS MOTnER'S DEATH — YISIT TO SCOTLAND 
 
 — MALVEEN — FRESHWATER — JOURNEY TO GREECE AND CON- 
 STANTINOPLE — AUVERGNE AND THE PYRENEES —JOURNEY TO 
 NORTH ITALY HIS DEATH AT FLORENCE. 
 
 A. H. Clough's health had at no time been very strong, 
 and after 1859 it began to give cause for anxiety. He had 
 an attack of illness in the winter, not serious, but weak- 
 ening, and in the summer of 1860 it was followed by a 
 slight accident to his foot, which was a considerable shock, 
 and had a depressing effect on his health and nerves. 
 
 In the summer of this year also he lost his mother: she 
 died, after a long and lingering illness, at Ambleside, 
 which had for several years been her home and his 
 sister's. 
 
 In September he visited the Scotch lakes, and made a 
 pleasant visit to relations farther north, in Argyleshire, on 
 the shores of the Sound of Mull. But this holiday had 
 not its usual good effect of reviving him, and in November 
 he obtained six months' leave of absence from the Educa- 
 tion Office. He then underwent several weeks' treatment 
 at Malvern, which appeared to improve his health. After- 
 wards, in February 1861, he went to Freshwater in the Isle 
 of Wight for six weeks, and here, though at first in a 
 suffering state, he soon improved, and regained his spirits, 
 and for the last time really enjoyed his family life with his 
 wife and children. He was dotingly fond of his two little
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 301 
 
 children, who were too younj^ to know what they had in 
 him, and what they lost. He was never tired of strolling 
 about with them, carrying them on his back along the 
 country lanes, and listening to their just-beginning talk. 
 He was always keenly alive to the pleasures of country, 
 and the opening spring in that sweet spot brought many 
 pleasant sights : many walks among daffodil and snowdrop 
 beds, and discoveries of ferns in sheltered nooks. He was 
 always early abroad, often strolling over the downs before 
 breakfast. , He also employed himself a good deal at this 
 time in translating Homer, which was always a favourite 
 amusement of his leisure. Another great pleasure here was 
 the near neighbourhood of friends whom he especially 
 *falued, and whose society gave him the intellectual 
 stimulus he needed for enjoyment. 
 
 But this pleasant time came too soon to an end. He 
 was unwilling to move, for he was happy, and he felt an 
 improvement in his health ; but he was warned that the 
 good would soon be exhausted, and that the climate was 
 too relaxing for warmer weather. He was ordered further 
 change of air, and still more change of scene, and in the 
 middle of April he went to Greece and Constantinople. 
 
 To Charles N&i'ton, Esq, 
 
 Freshwater, Isle of "Wight: March 10, 1861. 
 
 I hope your being at home may be understood to prove 
 that you are a good deal stronger. I am a good deal 
 better myself, and have no very good excuse for not writing 
 beyond the advice which is given me to indulge in laziness. 
 Had I had six months' leave proclaimed to me from be- 
 forehand, I should have naturally thought of going over 
 to see you in America; but, what with water-cure and 
 other things, I don't think I shall even go abroad to the 
 Continent for more than a month. 
 
 I am glad to hear you speak so hopefully of your future ;
 
 302 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 much, however, will I suppose in any case depend on the 
 good sense and character of your new President and his 
 advisers. I for my part should suppose that an attempt 
 to retake the federal forts would be unwise. You are 
 stronsr enough not to need it. 
 
 Emerson's new essays were to me quite as good as, if 
 not better than, any former volume. The reviews are no 
 great index of public interest unless you collect a good 
 number. There are now so many local reviews, and 
 people with us depend so very little on Athenaeums and 
 Literary Grazettes, or even Saturday Eeviews. An article 
 in the ' Times ' is the really important thing for a book to 
 get with a view to sale, but even that proves little as to 
 people's interest. There is a vast deal of anti-mysticisn>^ 
 and of a dense, supercilious, narrow-minded common sense, 
 which of course speaks pretty loudly. 
 
 To his Wife. 
 
 Athens: April 24, 1861. 
 This morning about six I got up, and found we had just 
 passed Cerigo, and had turned up north-eastward along 
 the Peloponnesian coast. By half-past nine we had passed 
 Hydra and seen Calaurea, and were in sight of ^gina right 
 before us, and of Sunium on the right in the distance. 
 Coming up from breakfast (half-past nine) we presently 
 came in sight of a low set of petty hills rising from a little 
 plain, and on one of the lowest saw the Parthenon. Pass- 
 ing ^gina and advancing towards Salamis we have this 
 right before us, Hymettus on the right, Pentelicus more 
 distant, Parnes beyond the plain, the bay stretching to- 
 wards Corinth on the left, Salamis hiding all the coast 
 left of Athens, and all very bright and sunny. We landed 
 in Piraeus about twelve, and came on shore in a boat and 
 up here in a vettura. I'm two pairs up, looking towards 
 the Acropolis.
 
 18G1.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 303 
 
 April 28. 
 On Friday we went to Eleusis, through the pass of 
 Daphne; there is scarcely anything left; the little vilhige 
 just a))out occupies the site of the great temple. There is 
 a little quay like a sickle running out into the water, and 
 in one spot some lesser ruins have been opened out. The 
 bay, which is completely shut in by Salamis, is beautiful, 
 and so is the plain, now green with young corn, and the 
 mountains of Parnes behind it. Dark poppies and small 
 camomile flowers abound everywhere instead of grass, and 
 a good many flowers quite strange to me. 
 
 April 29. 
 
 Last night I dined at the Wyses', and met General 
 Church, Mr. Finlay, Mr. Elliot, Secretary of Legation, 
 Captain Lambert, K. N. (of the Scylla, which lies in the 
 Piroeus), who was at Marsala when Garibaldi landed, and 
 seems a fine hearty gallant sort of officer. An Austrian 
 Secretary of Legation and an Attache made up the party. 
 Captain Lambert spoke of the harbour. Phalerum they 
 say is the right harbour, it is so hard to tack into Piraeus. 
 General Church spoke of seventeen tacks. But there is 
 no trade at the back. Patras, said Sir T. Wyse, is the 
 only place with a hack to it ; i.e. currants. 
 
 The weather has become perfectly fine, the sun hot, but 
 a fresh breeze blowing. In a fortnight, they say, all will 
 be brown. Just now the land is green with barley, into 
 which they turn the horses, partly cutting it, partly leav- 
 ing them to feed on it as it stands, only shackling them. 
 
 This place is very pleasant to stay at, in the lounging 
 way. I walked to Colonus and the Academy, about a 
 mile and a half away, going north-east towards the Cephis- 
 sus and the ' Olive Grove.' You are let into a farm-house 
 garden, with all sorts of fruits and vegetables, quince-trees, 
 pomegranate-trees, orange-trees, &c. ; and here also are 
 a few remains, I suppose the trees have never grown
 
 304 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 well up again since Sylla cut them down.* There are a 
 few old olives, and about the farm newer trees, planes 
 chiefly. Then you cross a bare field to the bare hill or 
 mound of Colonus, where are two marble monuments to 
 Ottfried Miiller and to Lenormant. The view of the 
 Acropolis is very good. 
 
 In the evening I rambled about, along the Ilissus, picked 
 some maiden-hair from the rocks over the springs of 
 Calirrhoe, where we found women washing and donkeys 
 drinking, and so through some beer and wine gardens 
 along the water-side to the Stadium, a great hollow in the 
 hill-side where the foot races were. 
 
 Tuesday, April 30. 
 
 Yesterday I went to Phyle, up on the hills of Parnes ; 
 took four hours on horseback to get there, and nearly 
 four hours back. This is Greek Passion Week, and 
 horses are not easy to get ; my guide had a very poor one. 
 Phyle is romantic enough ; a very steep, rough horse-way 
 leads to it, and on one side of it, to Thebes. It is a fort 
 with three sides remaining, and two towers, and from the 
 plateau you see Hymettus and the plain with the Acropolis 
 far below. The road up rounds a shoulder of ^gialus, 
 and then gets wilder. You see goats about, nearly all 
 black. The whole of the mountains are pine-wooded — a 
 light-green with a stone-pine head ; they spring from 
 the bare rock. There is a thin herbage in places, with 
 bare shrubs ; the biggest is the irplvos, with little prickly 
 holly-leaves, quite red when young as now, and very 
 close ; numerous flowers at Phyle, cistus, thyme in blossom. 
 The young pines look soft of foliage : I mistook them 
 for deciduous trees. 
 
 To-day Mr. Finlay called, and' took me to the Univer- 
 sity Library, and to the ^ovXsvrrjpiov, where the ^ovKrj were 
 sitting, and apparently at work. There are fifty ^ovXsvrai. 
 
 * dough's Plutarch. Life of Sylhi, vol. iii. p. 157.
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 305 
 
 Also we saw the Chamber, who seemed wholly idle. Thence 
 to the new Cathedral, not yet finished, and very gorg'eous 
 (for so small a. place) inside; thence to his house, where 
 the visit ended by some Scotch marmalade, of which one 
 takes a spoonfid and a glass of water. 
 
 At the library I saw a new Greek translation of Plutarch, 
 and of Homer, in verse. I also saw Mr. Finlay's Attic 
 coins, from the cnaTrjp to the lowest. 
 
 May 1. 
 
 This morning I was called at ten minutes to four ; got 
 some cafe-au-lait and went down to Piraeus, and embarked 
 on a Greek steamer, which at six started for Kalamaki, a 
 little landing-place on the Isthmus, whence the road runs 
 over, four miles long, to New Corinth. As I started, on the 
 road to Piraeus, the light of sunrise (about 5.20) came over 
 Lycabettus, the sun actually rising over Hymettus with 
 the Parthenon between. People were then in the fields. 
 Acrocorinthus was visible pretty nearly all the way, and 
 latterly the mountains of Phocis, clouded, over the low 
 isthmus ; Megara just beyond, and Salamis very noticeable. 
 Old Corinth, or New Corinth the elder, nearly on the site 
 of the antique, was wholly destroyed by earthquake in 
 1857. To New Corinth, which is on the sea-side of the 
 Gulf of Corinth, the passengers are taken by omnibus and 
 cart, and embark for Patras. At Kalamaki I mounted a horse 
 with a Greek saddle, the most dreadful invention in the 
 world, which made it hopeless to reach Corinth and return 
 before the steamer returned to Athens; however, we went on 
 as well as the saddle allowed, some way up towards Acro- 
 corinthus, a wild country, with a great deal of low pine 
 about, and with old quarries, and saw from the higher 
 part * the Gulf of Corinth stretching away to the moun- 
 tains of Phocis, heavily clouded, to the northern side of it. 
 When we got back it was just beginning to rain, and it has 
 
 * From the Aerocorinth watched the clay 
 
 Light tlie eastern and the western bay. — Pocm^, p. 2;)G. 
 X
 
 30& LETTEES AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 rained hard ever since. I was fain to go into the cabin, where 
 I found however a resource in a Greek army doctor (in full 
 uniform, I only found out that he was a doctor after- 
 wards). He spoke French well enough. This rain is 
 said to be very unusual. The morning from five o'clock 
 was delightful. Kalamaki is just at the north-east extre- 
 mity of the low level of the Isthmus, out of which Acro- 
 corinthus rises, almost by itself, and which is filled up, 
 north and south, as the space widens, by high mountains. 
 
 May 2. 
 The town is full of people buying and selling for Trdaxa, 
 e. g. lambs ; there are flocks all about, on the Areopagus, 
 and also the outskirts. Wax candles also, besides the 
 usual marketings. 
 
 May 4. 
 Yesterday was Friday, in Grreek irapaa-Ksvri, and yester- 
 day in particular, Grood Friday, rj /xsydXt] irapacrKsv^, a 
 great fast, and everybody buying his lamb for the Pascha 
 of Sunday. 
 
 On Thursday I went up Pentelicus ; left this at eight, 
 got up by twelve. The view was clouded to the west and 
 north-west, but Euboea and the Euripus and Marathon 
 lay like a map below, also South Attica, with Andros, 
 Tenos, Ceos, and over Euboea, less distinct, Scyros. The 
 upper slopes of the mountain are clad with arbutus chiefly, 
 just going out of flower. There are marble quarries for a 
 great part of the way up, and one with a great grotto or 
 cave richly adorned with the common English maiden-hair, 
 and with a little of the true Capillus veneris. 
 
 Coming down I stopped to lunch beside the monastery of 
 the Pan-agia ; bread and cheese and oranges, by a beautiful 
 gushing water in a sort of cup out of a wall, tall white 
 poplars overhead, olives, and also large dwarf oaks (fifteen 
 feet high or more), the first I have seen. I looked into the 
 monastery court, in the middle of which is a huge bay 
 tree. Mr. Psyllis, a Greek gentleman, a senator, whom
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 307 
 
 Mr. Finlay liad introduced me to, happened to be there ; 
 he was spending- his holiday there with, some of his family, 
 so he talked to me, and presently gave me coffee, which 
 Miss Victoria, his daughter, presented on a tray to us, 
 retiring after so doing. Then he took me up a little out- 
 side staircase to a little set of rooms, and presented me to 
 his relation, the abbot or rjyovfisvos, Cyrillus AsXyspios, 
 a fine-looking elderly man, who lives there in two small 
 rooms; one a sort of reception-room where sometimes 
 the king and queen come, and therefore adorned with their 
 pictures (two common engravings) ; the other his bedroom 
 and sitting-room, where he had a little wood fire. He also 
 asked me to take coffee, so presently his domestic made it 
 at this fire, and presented it, with that well-known Turkish 
 sweetmeat, but made at Syra, and much nicer, and with a 
 glass of water. You take first sweetmeat ; secondlv, 
 coffee ; thirdly, water. The monastery is very rich. 
 
 Last night (May 3rd) was a great night. The people 
 at eight crowd to the churches. In every church a bier 
 is laid out with a great cloth over it, and a figure or 
 representation (sometimes a little embroidered map) of 
 the crucifixion. The people all come in (in the chief 
 church between files of soldiers) and kiss the figure, and 
 then perhaps go out. About half-past nine the priests 
 take up the bier and carry it out, and the people follow 
 after with lighted candles (steariques), and go all about 
 the streets. The chief procession had a band of military 
 music at the head, and lots of soldiers, then some banners 
 and crosses, and then, a little way behind, the priests and 
 the bier. All the streets are filled with the people carrying 
 lighted steariques, and blue and red lights were let off. 
 
 ■^o-day is pretty quiet, only they are still buying lambs, 
 which are all to be killed, poor things, this evening. 
 
 Sunday, May 5. 
 
 The paschal lambs were very generally sacrificed in the 
 course of yesterday afternoon. About 4 p.m. I met their 
 
 X 2
 
 308 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chaf. XIII. 
 
 skins walking about on the backs of sundry collectors of 
 lambskins here, as of hareskins with you, and on the 
 doors of the houses one might see here and there in the 
 byeways a skin ready for delivery. 
 
 In the afternoon I went up to the Parthenon ; the effect 
 of interval and depth in the columniation is far greater 
 than in any picture or imitation ; then out on a road 
 towards Phalerum with very good views of the Parthenon. 
 Coming back I met the lambskins on the backs of skin- 
 collectors, and hanging at doors, in the byeways by the 
 Lantern of Demosthenes. 
 
 I was tired and a little out of sorts at night, and so 
 did not sit up to see the hullabaloo at 12 p.m., when 
 the king and queen after attending divine service come 
 out upon a platform and show themselves, in honour of 
 the great event, and in token that o ')(^pL(nos avscmf]. This 
 morning I was disturbed by certain worse than heathen 
 Greeks howling away under my window in a yard, and 
 looking forth beheld four paschal lambs over the embers, 
 stuck through with poles, and the heathens turning them, 
 and singing strange words, among which I thought I could 
 occasionally detect ' Yesous.' 
 
 Wednesday, May 8. 
 
 The weather continues uncertain. Yesterday I went in 
 a boat from Piraeus out into Salamis Bay, past Psyttalea, 
 and then back and round the whole headland of Piraeus, 
 to see the little harbour on the other side, and the walls, of 
 which very nearly all the circuit can be traced by blocks 
 still remaining. The two harbours, Munychia and Zea, 
 are pretty little coves, both very small, Munychia ex- 
 tremely so, with jetties of stone closing its mouth ; it is 
 shallow and deserted. The rain came on, so I came, up 
 by omnibus to the aari, where the dances that should have 
 been, round the Temple of Theseus, were much interrupted.
 
 18G1.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 309 
 
 Thursday, May 9. 
 
 In the afternoon, yesterday, I went to the Acropolis 
 from three to six, and looked at the sculptures on the left 
 hand as you go in. Note the minute comparative size of 
 the Erecbtheum, which is also a good deal lower in site 
 than the Parthenon. I suppose the figures are perhaps 
 seven feet high. This small size shows very well from the 
 terrace under Lycabettus, where you see both. 
 ■ I and two other gentlemen have agreed to go to 
 Nauplia by steamer on the 12th, and to ride thence to 
 Corinth, returning by stea«ier from the Isthmus on the 
 15th. The weather is now beautiful, and seems to promise 
 favourably. New snow seems to have fallen on some of 
 the hills near the Isthmus. We are to go with Spiro 
 Adamopulos, a well-known trustworthy guide. 
 
 Pray can you guess Avhat a (psaoTrcoXsLov is, or a 
 KaTTvoTTOiXelov, or finally, a Trvsv/jLaTOTrcoXslov ? There are 
 a great many in Athens, but there are even more Ka(f>(f)£vsia. 
 You know of course a virohrj^aTdiroLos, but what is a 
 paiTTijs? and should you know an omnibus as a Xsoxpopsiov ? 
 
 Saturday, 11. ^ 
 
 I dined yesterday at the Hills', at three, meeting Miss 
 Bremer, who has been living here three years. She is a 
 little shrunk old lady, very quiet. In the evening I went 
 to a mixed soiree, consisting chiefly of Greeks, from nine 
 to near twelve ; music, with two professionals, Italians. I 
 talked a little to Miss Bremer, and to a Mr. and Mrs. and 
 Miss Dragoumi. jNIrs. and Miss Dragoumi had come with 
 us in the boat; he conducts a Greek review. The 
 music was good, I think ; they get pianos from Vienna, 
 and have some good masters. They say the Greek girls 
 marry at seventeen ; they learn French and music very 
 well. Everybody learns French ; a good many, English, to 
 read ; everybody, old Greek, to read a little.
 
 310 LEISTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 Thursday, May 16. 
 
 I have got back, a little tired, but no worse. We had a 
 beautiful sail by steamer to Nauplia on Sunday ; it is a 
 filthy place, and we left it gladly at six on jNlonday, on 
 horseback ; saw the ruins of Tiryns, TipvvOd rs rsixiosaaav, 
 and stopped half an hour at Argos, after a ride of seven 
 miles. It was by this time nine o'clock, and very hot ; and 
 we didn't go up the Acropolis, but rode off, and in about 
 an hour and a half reached our halting-place below 
 Mycenas, remains of walls on some bare rocky ground a 
 mile above being visible as we rode up. We lunched 
 under a tree, almost the only tree visible, and then went 
 up, riding. The Tomb,* or Treasury, is extremely remark- 
 able, so also are the other ruins, the Grate and the Wall. 
 Thence back by another course to the road, and shortly 
 into a pass, the rprjros, which became wooded, with shrubs, 
 and had a pleasant stream. So into a fine upland among 
 hills, then down into an open valley, or plain among hills, 
 where we saw the three columns of Nemea ; then down to 
 them, and back over the hill-side, lower down to our 
 former line, and so down a water-course to another little 
 'plain, to four houses among some willows — one a small 
 barrack for some ten soldiers ; one a little cook and coffee 
 shop ; one, I suppose, a little farm, and a sort of granary 
 place behind the shop, with a room fitted up over one part 
 of the granary for strangers. Here we lodged, and next 
 day went on to Corinth ; but here rain came on, and we 
 saw no view. We slept at Kalamaki on the east side 
 of the Isthmus, and came on yesterday. T go to-day to 
 Constantinople, and shall return on the 31st. 
 
 * With wonder in the spacious gloom 
 Stood of the Mycenaean tomb. —Poems, p. 256.
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 311 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Constantinople : Sunday, May 19, 10 a.m. 
 
 We arrived here this morning at half-past four, and 
 landed between six and seven ; it was raining all the time, 
 so that the far-famed first view was nil for us. But our 
 voyage otherwise was prosperous, fair and fine all the way; 
 the moon and stars bright over the isles of Marmora, 
 when we went to bed last night. 
 
 The steamer only left Piraeus at 3 p.m. on Friday. 
 We passed under Cape Colonna, and saw the temple 
 very well about 5.30 P. M. ; passed then through the 
 strait between the southern point of Euboea and the 
 northern point of Andros : the former is known as Capo 
 d'Oro, i.e. Caphareus, where Minerva drowned Ajax the 
 Lesser. Night fell as we left Euboea ; and when I came 
 on deck at 6.30 a.m. yesterday, we had Lesbos, a long 
 range of mountains, on the immediate right; and the 
 coast of Asia, south of the Troad, on the right bow. An 
 aged modern Greek pointed out to me a small thing on 
 the horizon, almost straight ahead, a little to the left of 
 our course, which he said was Tenetho, ' bello paese, buono 
 vino, buon' e forte.' Some little after we passed it, and 
 several French savans began to quote ' Est in conspectu,' 
 rather reminding one of ' As in praesenti.' We went in 
 between Tenedos or Tenetho (a desert-looking island still, 
 but with one little corner occupied by a little town, with a 
 fort and three minarets) and the Troad, and at this crisis 
 were summoned to breakfast, but recovered (most of us) 
 the deck in time to see the actual plain of Troy, and the 
 entrance of the Dardanelles. There should have appeared 
 three tumuli at the turn, but I could not wel] make them 
 out. The embouchure of the Simois, just above the town, 
 leffe you look up into the plain, backed, many miles off, 
 by Mount Ida. 
 
 And so up the Dardanelles, which were crowded with
 
 312 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 vessels taking advantage of the south wind, and so to 
 Dardanelles (the Turkish town so called), where we stop, 
 to obtain permission to go on ; here are the castles and 
 the consuls, and H.M.S. ' Melpomene,' having just, as I 
 now learn, brought Lord Dufferin from Beyrout ; and one 
 hears that the Sultan is very ill and likely to die, which 
 on arriving here one learns is all a lie. Then past Sestos 
 and Abydos, and the strait gradually widens till at Gal- 
 lipoli, where the French and English armies encamped, it 
 opens into the Sea of Marmora. Lampsacus is on the 
 right, a little before Gallipoli on the left, ^gospotami I 
 couldn't quite make out. The Sea of Marmora, also, was 
 full of shipping, most in full sail for Constantinople, some 
 also beating down, outward bound. 
 
 May 20. 
 Another wet day! Was there ever such a disaster? 
 We are to have the firman to see St. Sophia on Wednesday ; 
 to-morrow we are to do the walls ; Thursday, Scutari ; 
 Friday, Sweet Waters ; Saturday, the Bosporus. But 
 the place is one requiring blue sky and bright sun, and 
 there is no promise of either. The hotel is costly, but 
 comfortable in its way, if one only had not to stay in 
 it altogether. 
 
 May 21, 6-30 p.m. 
 
 We waited because of heavy clouds this morning for 
 more than an hour, and then mounted our horses, and set 
 out just in time for a heavy shower, but before getting 
 quite wet we were across the bridge of boats, and under 
 shelter in the bazaar, through whose covered arcades we 
 paced on horseback, between silks and shawls, &c., with 
 great imperturbability. When we got to the end, the 
 shower was over, and passing the Mosque of Sultan 
 Bajazet, and under the Seraskierat tower, we went right 
 ahead through strange Turkish lanes with pavements 
 worse than execrable, and in about two hours from 
 starting, reached the ancient citadel of the Seven Towers,
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 313 
 
 still all entire. There, under some trees, we dismounted, 
 and with some trouble <^ot admittance into the court, full 
 of trees and shrubs of natural growth. The trees are 
 here more northern than in Greece, ashes, a sort of lime, 
 planes not abundant, wild figs, and the cypresses, which I 
 suppose are almost all planted ; the cemeteries, of course, 
 are perfect forests of them. So up to the parapet, and up a 
 tower for the view ; the Sea of Marmora here, the city there 
 — a very fine view ; then out and along the outside of the 
 ancient walls, for a long way, to a cafe at the Adrianople 
 gate ; then inside to Belisarius's castle, and on foot through 
 a house full of Jews (seven or eight girls pulling at us for 
 baksheesh) to a parapet, for another view of the Golden 
 Horn. Thence through a horrible Jews' quarter, and a not 
 much better Greek quarter, across to the Patriarchal 
 Church, and so along the Golden Horn shore, but sepa- 
 rated from it by houses, to our former bridge, and so 
 across to Pera and home, 1 1 a.m. to 6 r.M. 
 
 May 23. 
 
 Yesterday, with some rain and some fatigue, we did the 
 Seraglio (French engravings and French gout). Kiosk of 
 Amurath II. (better), St. Irene, St. Sophia, the Mosque of 
 Ahmed (all white, except some blue China tiles, beautiful 
 courtyard and fountains), the Hippodrome, and the Tomb 
 of Sultan Mahmoud— all this under the protection of a 
 firman, and in a party of nearly twenty strangers. Sultan 
 Mahmoud's is a sort of conservatory tomb — large windows 
 all round, with white curtains, light and airy, and high- 
 domed roof. The Sultan is buried there, with his wife, 
 sister and four daughters. 
 
 The Seraglio was a good deal below one's expectations; 
 St. Sophia certainly beyond mine. The amplitude of 
 the dome is very impressive ; it is a sort of Pantheon 
 exalted into a Monotheon. Michael Angelo ought to have 
 seen it.
 
 314 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap, XIIL 
 
 How many times in the course of the day's work we 
 had to pull off boots and shoes and put on slippers, I 
 can't dare to say. The weather is still unsettled. The 
 Bithynian Olympus is one long range of snow-covered 
 Alp. Till yesterday we had a fire in the sitting-room, 
 and yesterday we missed it. I have found great solace 
 from a terrace on the roof, which gives a tolerable view of 
 the Strait, and the Seraglio point, and Scutari, and the 
 hills across the end of the Sea of Marmora, and the 
 snowy Olympus overtopping them. 
 
 May 24, 10 a.m. 
 
 This, you know, is the Mahometan Sunday, and the 
 Sultan goes to mosque, and we are to go and stare at him 
 on his way. Mosque is at twelve o'clock, and we start at 
 eleven. 
 
 I dined yesterday with Dr. Beretta, who is a most 
 amiable kind man, but first I went with him to see 
 Elizabeth Kondaxaky, the Cretan sibyl, who prophesies, 
 fortunately in English, as well as Greek, and other tongues, 
 whereof she has the gift. I have not exactly summed up 
 the result of her prophecies, but she seems to be for 
 England and Turkey — the latter as ' a necessary evil,' 
 and the former as the natural protector of necessary evils. 
 
 May 26, 
 
 On Friday we went to see the Sultan go to mosque, 
 which he did in his caique of twenty oars or more. We 
 were received into the house of Halil Bey, a profane 
 Frank-mannered Turk, with windows looking, some upon 
 the Bosporus, where the caique passed by, and some 
 upon the court of the mosque, where the Sultan disem- 
 barked, so we saw the poor creature admirably ; he looks 
 quite * the sick man.' When he got on shore, a sort of 
 chant was set up, interpreted to us, as ' Sultan ! trust 
 not in yourself; there is God above, who is greater than 
 you,' which was not saying very much.
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 315 
 
 Then I left my companions and went back to the hotel, 
 and then over to Scutari with Dr. Pincoff, and saw all 
 •Scutari, Barrack and General Hospitals, and F. N's own 
 tower, and rooms, and everything, of which you shall hear 
 Avhen I return. 
 
 We went by steamer up the Bosporus, to Buyukdere, 
 and up a hill to see the Black Sea. 
 
 Sunday, 5 p.m. 
 
 We have been to see the dancing dervishes, really not 
 an unedifying spectacle in the way of a divine service. 
 ' God, what a wonderful Creator Thou art ' Thou hast 
 made so many thousand human beings, black and white, 
 and whom Thou pleasest, black or white. Thou canst raise 
 to be distinguished.' To such words and other such, 
 chanted with musical instruments accompanying, twenty 
 men, in presence of their chief, in solemn silence, go 
 twirling about with extended arms and spinning long- 
 petticoats. ' God, what a wonderful Creator Thou art ! ' 
 &c. &c. Adieu. 
 
 In June he returned to England. He seemed to long 
 for home and to be unable to bear long absences. He 
 spent a fortnight in Derbyshire with his family ; he spoke 
 little of his journey, and seemed languid and depressed, 
 though not positively suffering. After this he went to 
 London with them, and on July 6th went off again through 
 Paris to Auvergne and the Pyrenees. There he was for- 
 tunate enough to join, though but for a short time, his 
 friends Mr. and Mrs. Tennyson, whose companionship 
 made his solitary wanderings pleasant, and to it probably 
 he owed more than pleasure, the stimulus to produce 
 the poems which were his last creations. It has been said 
 that his later poems give signs of his failing strength ; 
 but whether or not this strikes the reader, in any case 
 the rapidity and ease with which they were written show
 
 31 G LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 how instinctively he returned to poetry as soon as ever the 
 stress of work was removed from him. The first of the 
 Mari Ma<rno Tales was written in Grreece ; all the others, 
 in Auvergne or the Pyrenees, except the last, which was 
 conceived and written after he was attacked by his last 
 illness. 
 
 To a E. Norton, Esq. 
 
 London: July 4, 1861. 
 On coming back from abroad ten days ago I received 
 two letters from you, one of which I had received by copy 
 from my wife at Athens. Many thanks for them; they 
 were very interesting, and I hope you will not be discour- 
 aged by my brief acknowledgments from writing further. 
 I am still invalided, and am to go abroad again the day 
 after to-morrow. I have achieved a good deal already, 
 having seen Athens and Constantinople. I was half- 
 tempted to come over to pay you the visit you so kindly 
 proposed, but I should have had to return early in Sep- 
 tember, and I hope some year to spend a September on 
 your side. I have just made a call on a former acquaint- 
 ance in America, Miss E. H., of Concord, who brought me 
 a letter from Emerson moreover. She tells me that in 
 New England, she believes, people do not expect that the 
 Southern States will ever be brought back into the Union, 
 and that it is not the object simply to make them return; 
 it being indeed hardly possible that the States, North and 
 South, should ever again live together in union, but that 
 the war is rather in vindication of the North and its rights, 
 which have been trampled upon by the South. Is this 
 true, in your judgment ? Certainly it does seem hardly 
 conceivable that South Carolina should ever return. On 
 what terms then would the North be willing to make 
 peace, and what conditions would it require in limine 
 before entering upon the (|uestion of separation ?
 
 1861. J ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 317 
 
 As for the feeling here, you must always expect states- 
 men to be cold in their language, and the newspapers im- 
 pertinent and often brutal. Beyond this, I thiuk people 
 here had been led to suppose at the outset that the 
 Northern feeling was strong against civil war, (and so it 
 was I suppose,) and that the principle of separation was 
 conceded ; the indignation being merely at the mode 
 adopted for obtaining it. And the attack on Fort Sumter 
 which caused so sudden a revulsion of feeling with you 
 was naturally attended with no such change here. But 
 coexisting with all this, I believe there is a great amount 
 of strong feeling in favour of the North. 
 
 Technically we are wrong, I suppose, and as a matter 
 of feeling, we are guilty of an outrage in recognising the 
 South as a belligerent power, but as a matter of conve- 
 nience between your governmejit and ours, I suppose the 
 thing is best as it is. 
 
 Miss H. will take to Emerson four photographs of 
 Eowse's picture of me ; one for you : it may be better 
 than nothing. 
 
 My nervous energy is pretty well spent for to-day, so I 
 must come to a stop. I have leave till November, and by 
 that time I hope I shall be strong again for another good 
 spell of work. 
 
 Lord Campbell's death is rather the characteristic death 
 of the English political man. In the cabinet, on the 
 bench, and at a dinner party, busy, animated, and full of 
 effort to-day, and in the early morning a vessel has burst. 
 It is a wonder they last so long. I shall resign if it proves 
 much of a strain to me to go on at this official work. 
 Farewell. 
 
 To his Wife. 
 
 Mont Dorc-les-bains, Auvergne : July 16, 1861. 
 
 This is a queer place, a French watering-place, a village, 
 scarcely even a village, metamorphosed by having a square
 
 318 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XTIT. 
 
 of hotels on three sides and a bath establishment on one 
 side, with a sort of terrace or esplanade stuck down into 
 it. The place is some 3,000 feet above the sea, a green 
 Swiss-like valley, right in the mountains, with fir-trees 
 standing out from the green mountain sides, just as in 
 Switzerland. There is a hot spring, or rather a quantity 
 of hot springs, issuing from the volcanic rock, known and 
 used by the Komans, and re-discovered or re-established 
 for use under the first Napoleon, to whose time the build- 
 ings seem to belong. They are about sufficient for the 
 500 or 600 people who come. We were fifty, I think, at 
 dinner yesterday, in one of the hotels. 
 
 The journey herein the diligence was agreeable, right over 
 the chain of hills, of which Pay de Dome is the highest, 
 from the valley of the Allier (flowing to the Loire) to the 
 valley here flowing to the g-ironde. We mounted to about 
 3,300 or 3,400 feet above the sea, and descended 300 
 or 400 to this place ; the high land was a green pastoral 
 district with rounded hills mostly ; no very distinct 
 craters on the route ; a lake a little way off was one, I 
 suppose. 
 
 This is really an odd enough place to be in; dejeuner 
 at ten, dinner at half-past five ; two tables of abovit twenty- 
 five people, all French; we also have a drawing-room 
 where we meet before meals, and sit generally (only I 
 don't) ; gentlemen unbeknown to ladies give their arms to 
 ladies aforesaid, to conduct them into dinner, and occa- 
 sionally out from dinner. I sit near some pleasant people 
 at dinner, a Parisian of the Parisians on one hand, and a 
 Marseilles opulent-seeming seeming-merchant with a wife, 
 a sister and some children, on the other. Last night from 
 eight to half-past nine was a soiree magicale, things 
 coming out of hats, &c., followed by a divertissement of a 
 poet and improvisatore, who did bout-rimer. The com- 
 pany supplied him for his last epreuve with about fourteen 
 or sixteen words, rhymes masculine and feminine, mitraille,
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 319 
 
 canaille, volcan, encan, ending with baigneur and bonheur, 
 which gave him the opportunity (the subject by the way 
 being also given him after the rhymes, viz. vin do cham- 
 pagne) to wish in conclusion to chaque aimahle bairjneur 
 I don't know how much honheur, which of course drew 
 the house. The poet's face was a great round simple- 
 looking piece of countenance, and he was fat but alert, 
 and knew more tricks than one, I dare say. 
 
 Jul}' 19. 
 
 AVent to Lac Gruery and the Plateau ^vith Jean. Wages, 
 three francs a day, and for harvest three francs and 
 victuals : tlie same as at Marseilles. The schoolmaster 
 has 600 francs. 
 
 July 20. 
 
 Talked with M. Chabuy. He is percepteur of all taxes. 
 They are imperial, departemental, communal. (There are 
 three classes of percepteurs, the 3rd, viz. of communes de 
 canton, is named by the prefet.) He is bound within a 
 certain time to pay all to the tresor. His accounts are 
 verified by the prefecture, and inspectors come every now 
 and then — one every year into each department — who 
 have the right of looking into the accounts, examining the 
 caisse communale. It would not do to leave it to the 
 conseil and maire. There is very little malversation. 
 The church payments for chaires, burials, &c., are regu- 
 lated by the bishop. Grovernment pays all the ministers 
 — Catholic, Protestant, and Jews. If a place of worsliip 
 of any kind is to be built, the commune pays, and every- 
 body is contribucdjle, of whatever religion. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Mont Dore-Ies-bains : July 21. 
 My plans are changed. This morning about 8.30 going 
 across the place to the cafe, whom should I see but 
 Tennyson ? They are all here. They go to the Pyrenees,
 
 320 LETTERS AND EEMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 and I am to follow them. I want to come home in 
 September, and see no sufficient reason yet for not 
 returning to work in November. I don't at all want to 
 spend a winter abroad away from the children, and were I 
 to be brought to do so, I should want to come home first. 
 Coming home did me good. I now propose to go to some 
 place in the Pyrenees and ride about. Bagneres de 
 Luchon will be the first trial, as the Tennysons will be 
 there. 
 
 To the Same. 
 
 Bagneres de Luchon, Pyrene^ : July 30. 
 I came on here yesterday; a ten hours' drive in the 
 banquette of a diligence, but it was a fine day and not 
 excessively hot. The place is exceedingly crowded, a 
 sort of mountain Brighton. This Franco-Gallo-cockney- 
 Chamouni, is, however, not unbearable, if taken in the 
 ri<yht way. It is in a rich valley, an almost perfect level 
 here of corn, maize especially, and vegetables, running 
 in like an estuary among the mountains. At the head of 
 it, between sides of wooded mountains, you see the rocky 
 peaks with snow in their clefts, filling up the gap. But 
 there are no Alpine eternal-snowy peaks visible here. 
 
 August 4. 
 
 On Friday I went in a sort of public conveyance some 
 six or eight miles up the valley to the Hospice, and 
 thence walked with my fellow-passengers up the Port 
 de Venasque into Spain. You see the whole Maladetta, 
 and it's the principal thing to do here. Yesterday I went 
 up into the Vallee de Lys, full of waterfalls ; and to-day I 
 have been a longish ride, starting at 6 a.m. to the Lac 
 d'Oo, really a very beautiful mountain lake, the lowest of 
 four or five ; the others are a good way higher up.
 
 isfii.] ARTHUR HUGH clough. 321 
 
 August 6. 
 1 have been my ride, five hours over hills, looking out 
 upon the glaciers of the main chain ; these hills are called 
 the Super Bagueres, and rise right above here. Then 
 down about eleven o'clock to the chalet of the Vallee de 
 Lys, where I stayed about three hours, breakfasting, going 
 up to some waterfalls, and sheltering from a brief storm, 
 and so home. 
 
 August 8. 
 
 Providence overruled my mind not to go out riding to- 
 day as I had intended, so I got the letter telling of the 
 new little daughter in good time. I think you must call 
 the little girl Blanche Athena. 
 
 The Tennysons are at Bigorre. I am very glad to have 
 the prospect of joining them, for it is rather too solitary 
 work going about Pyreneeing with a horse and a guide, or 
 even say tivo horses and a guide. However, the two men 
 I have had here have been good company in their way — 
 two cousins, both having served as soldiers, one six years, 
 the other eight or nine. One was in the Crimea, and 
 all through the campaign in Italy, and means to be a 
 soldier again. He had just finished his time when his 
 brother was drawn in the conscription. His brother 
 had just married, so he said he would serve two years for 
 him, and when the two years were ended and he came 
 home, somehow or other the brother was let off. Eighteen 
 went from Liichon to the Crimea, ten or twelve of thern 
 cousins ; thirteen came back, and they are, I think, all 
 here as baigneurs, guides, &c. This fine young fellow 
 was a hussar, and went out straight to Algiers, where he 
 set to work and ate so many figs and oranges that he had 
 a fever at once, and was in the hospital for three months. 
 He was wounded just at the end of the Crimean war, a 
 fortnight before the peace, and was in hospital at Con- 
 
 Y
 
 322 LETTERS AXD REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 stantinople for three months. He made great friends 
 with the English, apparently. So much for Pierre 
 Eedonnet, with Avhom I rode on Tuesday over Super 
 Bagneres to the Yallee de Ly;?. The day before I had his 
 cousin Jean, who is a family man, and unambitious of 
 military service. 
 
 I have seen here a certain Comte de , an Italian, 
 
 a Tuscan, who knew some friends of vours at Eome. He 
 is a Confederation man, and declaims against this 
 premature attempt at a united Italy. I met him at 
 the Lac d'Oo. He has lust been here, and all but 
 embraced me in his obscurantist arms, and has bidden me 
 adieu, ' God bless you.' He talks English, which he 
 mixes a little with Gferman, and I mix my English with a 
 little Italian. Who can he be ? and why has he so nearly 
 embraced me ? 
 
 Luchon is a very Parisian place ; people flaunt about, 
 and wear strange Parisian-mounta.in-costumes, ' tours-de- 
 tete ' of all kinds. The French upper classes seem to me 
 to be strongly possessed with the feeling that the Italian 
 kingdom is very much against French interests ; and partly 
 also with the feeling that the Emperor is driven into it 
 by England, who knows it to be bad for France. Sardinia 
 would pacify them, no doubt. But after Kicasoli's declara- 
 tion, can he, and after Lord John's speech, can he, assent ? 
 
 All things perhaps are possible. 
 
 AiigTist 9. 
 To-day comes a note to say that the Tennysons are all 
 coming here this evening, and I have already taken my 
 place for Luz via Bigorre ! Gro I must, and start early to- 
 morrow morning. 
 
 To ike Same. 
 
 Luz, St. Saurcur: August 13. 
 This, Luz, is the place where all the Bareges things are
 
 1861.] ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 223 
 
 made. The old women are all busy with distaff and spindle. 
 
 The things are made not at Bareges, but here and at liigurre. 
 
 The old women go about in scarlet hoods ; the men all 
 
 wear light-bhie caps : the younger women handkerchiefs, 
 
 brown, with yellow stripes. I have nothing to relate, so I 
 
 send you some verses made this morning, called ' Currente 
 
 Calamo.'* 
 
 August 17. 
 
 I have been laid up for some days, but am well again, 
 and this morning walked up to Bareges, four miles up a 
 high valley east of this. It is a regular pool of Bethesda, 
 only the diseased and impotent people seem to have learnt 
 to play at cards ; a desolate place with a staring etahlisse- 
 ment and a soldiers' hospital, and everybody on crutches, 
 and the only apparent enjoyment playing at cards in 
 shabby cafes. A high road with electric telegraph leads 
 up to it and ends with it. 
 
 August 18. 
 
 To-day, as soon as I got the letters, I set off for Gavarnie ; 
 the horses were waiting at the door for the postman. We 
 got away at 7.20 a.m., and riding up the Gave or river-side, 
 reached Gavarnie village in two hours ; here there is a 
 hotel of a quiet kind. Soon after passing through this, 
 you come in fair sight of the Cirque. The ground is 
 mostly level, except a rise at the end, which brings you to 
 the platform of the Cirque itself, and to the cottage which 
 is the end of the riding. A little beyond it there is snow, 
 forming a bridge over the stream, and you have the vast 
 cascade in full sight, but far off. One waits till noon for 
 the sun to get on the cascade and turn it into a white 
 cloud. It is the finest thing, certainly, that I have seen in 
 the Pyrenees. 
 
 August 19. 
 Yesterday was very hot, cloudless, though not without 
 
 * Poems, p. 280. 
 Y '2
 
 324 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Chap. XIII. 
 
 air. To-day there is a ' brouillard sec ' all over the hill 
 tops, a north wind blowing, and no sunshine. 
 
 August 20. 
 
 To-day again is the blessed brouillard, keeping all the 
 woii;ld cool, but preventing the ascent of hills. 
 
 August 23. 
 
 I have been to Cauterets by diligence two days ago. 
 Yesterday at 6 a. m. went to Lac de G-aube, which is 
 very good, returned to Cauterets and lounged about the 
 rest of the day, and this morning at 6.30 came back on 
 horseback over the hills and got here at eleven. Cauterets 
 is certainly beautiful, more beautiful than this, only it is a 
 busyish water-place, which this is not; the water-place 
 here, St. Sauveur, being a mile off, and very little fre- 
 quented. Cauterets is right in the real granite, and the 
 stream is absolutely clear, which no other large stream yet 
 seen by me in these parts is. 
 
 August 31. 
 I have been over to Luchon to see the Tennysons, whom 
 I found very comfortabl}'^ established in pleasant lodgings 
 out of the town, in maize fields, not far from the river. 
 These places are beginning to lose their beau monde. It 
 was a two days' journey. I rode on Saturday through 
 Bareges, up to the Tourmalet Pass, and down to Grip, 
 up again to Col d'Aspin, and so down to Arreau. Next 
 day left Arreau at 6.30 a.m., and came up a long valley 
 to the top of another col, and so down to Luchon before 
 half-past eleven. It was agreeable enough to be worth 
 doing twice, so I came back on horseback the same 
 way, leaving Luchon on Tuesday. I rode to Arreau in 
 the afternoon, then reascended the Col d'Aspin, when the 
 view this time was complete and much finer ; from Mala- 
 detta east to the Pic du Midi de Bigorre west ; saw, with a 
 slight haze in the air, Maladetta and Port de Venasque per- 
 fectly, the glaciers about the Vallee de Lys, the Lac d'Oo,
 
 1861.] AKTHUR HUGH CLOUGII. 325 
 
 the Pic du Midi, and the Bareges mountains, all quite 
 clear. I reached Luz about six on Wednesday. 
 
 I did one new thing- yesterday, and went up the Pic des 
 Bergons, whence there is really a fine view of Pic du Midi 
 on the one hand, and Mont Perdu and Breche de Roland 
 on the other. I send you another Pyrenean fragment. 
 
 She fed her cows, tlie mountain peaks between.* 
 
 September I. 
 The Tennysons arrived at 6.30 yesterday. Tennyson 
 was here, with Arthur Hallam, thirty-one years ago, and 
 really finds great pleasure in the place ; they stayed here 
 and at Cauterets. 'JEnone,^ he said, was Avritten on the 
 inspiration of the Pyrenees, which stood for Ida. 
 
 September 6. 
 
 Yesterday we went up the Pic du Midi, which proved 
 fully equal to all expectations, though there was haze over 
 the plain and over the remoter ends of the chain. It is a 
 very complete view of the chain as we saw it, only from 
 the Maladetta to the Pic du Midi d'Ossau; our Pic du 
 Midi lying detached, or only tacked-to by the thin Col de 
 Tourmalet, some way to the north. 
 
 Tennyson and have walked on to Cauterets, and I 
 
 and the family follow in a caleche at two. 
 
 Cauterets : September 7. 
 
 To-day is heavy brouillard down to the feet, or at any 
 rate ankles, of the hills, and little to be done. I have been 
 out for a walk with A. T. to a sort of island betwen two 
 waterfalls, with pines on it, of which he retained a recol- 
 lection from his visit of thirty-one years ago, and which, 
 moreover, furnished a simile to 'The Princess.' He is 
 very fond of this place evidently, and it is more in the 
 mountains than any other, and so far superior. 
 
 * Poems, p. 279.
 
 326 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF [Cuap. XHI. 
 
 About the middle of September A. H. Clough quitted his 
 friends and joined his wife at Paris. After a few days at 
 Paris they travelled together through Switzerland to the 
 Italian lakes, intending to make a stay at Florence, and 
 reach Rome before the winter. He was then able to enjoy 
 much, though he could bear but little fatigue. They 
 stopped at Dijon to see the beautiful Puits de Moyse and 
 the sculptures in the Museum by the same hand; and then 
 crossed the Jura from Salines to Pontarlier and Neufchatel. 
 Between Salines and Pontarlier was then still a beautiful 
 drive in the diligence over low grassy hills crowned with 
 pine woods. At Pontarlier they rejoined the railway; 
 a striking line, seen as they saw it by moonlight, a 
 ' chemin tr^s accidente,' keeping half-way up the hill-side, 
 equally steep whether looking up or down, and continually 
 darting in and out through numerous tunnels. After this 
 came three pleasant vetturino days over the Simplon, one 
 spent in the long drive up the Valais, monotonous but 
 pleasant, with occasional walks and halts to gather the 
 deep blue gentians and mountain pinks on the wa3^side. 
 The next day, on which they crossed the pass, a sudden 
 deep snow came on, unusual so early in the year as Sep- 
 tember ; many little avalanches fell, and it was with some 
 difficulty they reached the crest. Then on descending the 
 slope of the great alpine wall, into the country of the svm, 
 everything changed suddenly, the snow disappeared, and 
 all seemed bursting into rich vegetation. Arthur enjoyed 
 this part of the journey excessively ; first the beautiful Pass 
 of Grondo, full of waterfalls and cascades, then the descent 
 lower down on Domo d'Ossola, among walnut and chestnut 
 trees. The sense of southern beauty and richness seemed 
 to penetrate him with enjoyment. The third day's drive 
 to Stresa on Lago Maggiore was also full of pleasure. At 
 Stresa they rested a few days and made expeditions to [sola 
 Bella, Orta, and Magadino ; but here he became slightly 
 unwell, and hurried on to Milan, thinking it would be more
 
 1«61.] AETIIUll HUGH CLOUOII. 327 
 
 bracing. He did apparently improve, and took pleasure in 
 visiting the pictures and churches, but never recovered 
 himself; and they continued their painful journey, during 
 which he grew gradually worse, to Florence, where they 
 expected to meet friends, and where they found good 
 medical help. Some days were better than others, and at 
 Parma he spent a few hours among the pictures of Correggio 
 with great enjoyment. The last day before entering Florence 
 they had a drive of several hours over the Apennines, 
 coming down on Pistoia. It was a lovely sunny day ; the 
 hills were covered with young chestnuts and flowering 
 arbutus ; the air was fresh and soothing, and he seemed to 
 revive on the heights, but looked with dread on the valley 
 lying beneath, with its white towns shining hot in the sun. 
 They reached Plorence early in the day of October 10th. 
 Til at afternoon Arthur went to the Boboli Grardens, and to 
 look at the grand arches of Orcagna in the Piazza del 
 Granduca. The next day too he attempted to walk as far 
 as the Cathedral and the Baptistery, which were close to 
 the hotel. But on the 12th, when a permanent lodging 
 had been found, he went to bed, unable longer to resist 
 the fever. He had suffered much rheumatic pain in the 
 head, but it very soon gave way to treatment, and after 
 this he did not suffer much. The fever, a sort of malaria, 
 had its course, and appeared to give way. During the 
 first three weeks he seemed perpetually occupied with a 
 poem he was writing, the last in the volume of his poems; 
 and when he began apparently to recover, and was able to 
 sit up for several hours in the day, he insisted on trying to 
 write it out, and when this proved too great an effort he 
 begged to dictate it. But he broke down before it was 
 finished, and returned to bed never to leave it again. A 
 few days before his death he begged for a pencil and con- 
 trived to write down two verses, and (juite to the ejid his 
 thoughts kept hold of his poem. Fortunately it had all 
 been completed and written out in pencil in the first stage
 
 328 LETTERS AND REMAINS OF ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH. 
 
 of his illness, and was found after his death in his note- 
 book. It seemed a comfort to him to have his mind 
 preoccupied and relieved from the weight of illness and 
 anxiety by this creative instinct. 
 
 The fever left him worn out, and then paralysis, with 
 which he had been threatened, struck him down. On the 
 1 3th of November he died, in his forty -third year. 
 
 Three days before his death his sister reached him from 
 England. He knew her, and was glad to see her near 
 him, but he was t o weak to realise the parting that was 
 coming. 
 
 He is buried in the little Protestant cemetery, just out- 
 side the walls of Florence, looking towards Fiesole, where 
 ' tall cypresses wave over the graves, and the beautiful 
 hills keep guard around ; ' a beautiful memorial-place for 
 a much-loved memory. Little known beyond their num- 
 ber, the memory of Arthur Glough will be safe in the 
 hearts of his friends. To them I think no words will seem 
 fitter than those of the poet, happily also his friend, which 
 have cherished the memory of another beautiful soul : 
 
 So, dearest, now thy brows are cold, 
 We see thee as thou art, and know 
 Thy likeness to the wise below, 
 
 Thy kindred with the great of old. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON 
 
 ruiNTED nr spotttrwoodb and CO. 
 
 MEVV-6TRKET SQUAUB 
 

 
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