Letters of Edward FitzGerald in Two Volumes

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_To S. Laurence_.

LITTLEGRANGE, WOODBRIDGE.
_Nov._ 8/82.

MY DEAR LAURENCE,

It is long since I have heard from you: which means, long since I have
written to you. But do not impute this to as long forgetfulness on my
part. My days and years go on one so like another: I see and hear no new
thing or person; and to tell you that I go for a month or a week to our
barren coast, which is all the travel I have to tell of, you can imagine
all that as easily as my stay at home, with the old Pictures about me,
and often the old Books to read. I went indeed to London last February
for the sole purpose of seeing our Donne: and glad am I to have done so
as I heard it gave him a little pleasure. That is a closed Book now. His
Death {337} was not unexpected, and even not to be deprecated, as you
know; but I certainly never remember a year of such havock among my
friends as this: if not by Death itself, by Death's preliminary work and
warning. . . . I wonder to find myself no worse dealt with than by
Bronchitis, bad enough, which came upon me last Christmas, hung upon me
all Spring, Summer, and Autumn; and though comparatively dormant for the
last three wet weeks (perhaps from repeated doses of Sea Air) gives
occasional Signs that it is not dead, but, on the contrary, will revive
with Winter. Let me hear at least how you have been, and how are; I
shall not grudge your being all well.

Aldis Wright has sent me a very fine Photo of Spedding done from one of
Mrs. Cameron's of which a copy is at Trinity Lodge. It is so fine that I
scarce know if it gives me more pleasure or pain to look at it. Insomuch
that I keep it in a drawer, not yet able to make up my mind to have it
framed and so hung up before me.

My good old Housekeeper has been (along with so many more) very ill,
bedded for five or six weeks; only now able to get about again. I have
this morning been scolding her for sending away a woman who came to do
her work, without consulting me beforehand: she makes out that the woman
wanted to go: I find the woman is very ready to return. 'These are my
troubles, Mr. Wesley,' as a Gentleman said to him when the Footman had
put too much coal on the fire.

_To W. F. Pollock_.

WOODBRIDGE. [1882.]

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

. . . The Book which has really, and deeply, interested me, and quite
against Expectation, is Froude's Carlyle Biography; which has (quite
contrary to expectation also) not only made me honour Carlyle more, but
even love him, which I had never taken into account before. In the
Biography, Froude seems to me to treat his man with Candour and Justice:
even a little too severe in attributing to systematic Selfishness what
seems to me rather unreflecting neglect, Carlyle's relations to his Wife,
whom, so far as we read, he loved. Of his Love for his own Family, his
Generosity to them, and his own sturdy refusal of help from others, one
cannot doubt.

_To C. E. Norton_.

WOODBRIDGE. _Dec._ 20, [1882].

MY DEAR NORTON,

. . . You may have read somewhere of an 'Ajax' at our Cambridge over
here. Thirty years ago did I tell the Greek Professor (now Master of
Trinity), 'Have a Greek Tragedy in (what you call) your Senate-house.'
But I was not sufficiently important to stir up the 'Dons.' Cowell
invited me to see and hear 'Ajax'; but I remained here, content to snuff
at it from the Athenaeum of England, not of Attica. And on the very day
that Ajax fretted his hour on the stage, my two old Housekeepers were
celebrating their Fiftieth, or Golden, wedding over a Bottle of Port wine
in the adjoining room, though in that happier Catastrophe I did not
further join.

Now, to end with myself; I have hitherto escaped any severe assault from
my 'Bosom-Enemy,' Bronchitis, though he occasionally intimates that he is
all safe in his Closet, and will reappear with the Butterflies, I dare
say. 'Dici Beatus' let no one in this country boast till May be over.

What you put off, and what you put on,
Never change till May be gone,

says an old Suffolk Proverb concerning our Clothing. Five of my friendly
contemporaries have been struck with Paralysis during this 1882: and here
am I with only Bronchitis to complain of.

WOODBRIDGE. _March_ 7/83.

MY DEAR NORTON,

I wrote to you some little while before Christmas, praying you, among
other things, not to put yourself to the trouble of sending me your
Emerson-Carlyle Correspondence, inasmuch as I could easily get it over
here; and, by way of answer, your two Volumes reached me yesterday, safe
and sound from over the Atlantic. I had not time (a strange accident
with me) to acknowledge the receipt of them yesterday: but make all speed
to do so, with all gratitude, to-day. As you are simply the Editor of
the Book, I may tell you something of my thoughts on it by and by. I
doubt not that I shall find Emerson's Letters the more interesting,
because the newer, to me. The Portrait at the head of Vol. II. assures
me that one will find only what is good in them.

. . . I was glad to find from Mozley's Oriel Reminiscences that Newman
had been an admirer of my old Crabbe; and Mr. L. Stephen has very kindly
written out for me a passage from some late work, or Lecture, of Newman's
own, in which he says that, after fifty years, he read 'Richard's Story
of his Boyhood,' in the Tales of the Hall, with the same delight as on
its first appearance, and he considers that a Poem which thus pleases in
Age as it pleased in Youth must be called (in the 'accidental' sense of
the word, logically speaking) 'Classical.'

I owe this Courtesy on Mr. Stephen's part to my having sent him a little
Preface to my Crabbe, in which I contested Mr. Stephen's judgment as to
Crabbe's Humour: and I did not choose to publish this without apprizing
him, whom I know so far as he is connected with the Thackerays. He
replied very kindly, and sent me the Newman quotation I tell you of. The
Crabbe is the same I sent you some years ago: left in sheets, except the
few Copies I sent to friends. And now I have tacked to it a little
Introduction, and sent forty copies to lie on Quaritch's counter: for I
do not suppose they will get further. And no great harm done if they
stay where they are. . . .

One day you must write, and tell me how you and yours have fared through
this winter. It has been a very mild, even, a warm, one over here; and I
for my part have not yet had much to complain of in point of health thus
far; no, not even though winter has come at last in Snow and Storm for
the last three days. I do not know if we are yet come to the worst, so
terrible a Gale has been predicted, I am told, for the middle of March.
Yesterday morning I distinctly heard the sea moaning some dozen miles
away; and to-day, why, the enclosed little scrap, {342} enclosed to me,
will tell you what it was about, on my very old Crabbe's shore. It (the
Sea) will assuredly cut off his old Borough from the Slaughden River-quay
where he went to work, and whence he sailed in the 'Unity' Smack (one of
whose Crew is still alive) on his first adventure to London. But all
this can but little interest you, considering that we in England (except
some few in this Eastern corner of it) scarce know more of Crabbe and his
where about than by name.

_To W. F. Pollock_.

[_Easter_, 1883].

MY DEAR POLLOCK,

. . . Professor Norton sent me his Carlyle-Emerson--all to the credit of
all parties, I think. I must tell the Professor that in my opinion he
should have omitted some personal observations which are all fair in a
private letter; as about Tennyson being of a 'gloomy' turn (which you
know is not so), Thackeray's 'enormous appetite' ditto; and such mention
of Richard Milnes as a 'Robin Redbreast,' etc.; which may be less untrue,
though not more proper to be published of a clever, useful, and amiable
man, now living.

_To C. E. Norton_.

WOODBRIDGE. _May_ 12/83.

MY DEAR NORTON,

Your Emerson-Carlyle of course interested me very much, as I believe a
large public also. I had most to learn of Emerson, and that all good:
but Carlyle came out in somewhat of a new light to me also. Now we have
him in his Jane's letters, as we had seen something of him before in the
Reminiscences: but a yet more tragic Story; so tragic that I know not if
it ought not to have been withheld from the Public: assuredly, it seems
to me, ought to have been but half of the whole that now is. But I do
not the less recognize Carlyle for more admirable than before--if for no
other reason than his thus furnishing the world with weapons against
himself which the World in general is glad to turn against him. . . .

And, by way of finishing what I have to say on Carlyle for the present, I
will tell you that I had to go up to our huge, hideous, London a week
ago, on disagreeable business; which Business, however, I got over in
time for me to run to Chelsea before I returned home at Evening. I
wanted to see the Statue on the Chelsea Embankment which I had not yet
seen: and the old No. 5 of Cheyne Row, which I had not seen for five and
twenty years. The Statue I thought very good, though looking somewhat
small and ill set-off by its dingy surroundings. And No. 5 (now 24),
which had cost her so much of her Life, one may say, to make habitable
for him, now all neglected, unswept, ungarnished, uninhabited

'TO LET'

I cannot get it out of my head, the tarnished Scene of the Tragedy (one
must call it) there enacted.

Well, I was glad to get away from it, and the London of which it was a
small part, and get down here to my own dull home, and by no means sorry
not to be a Genius at such a Cost. 'Parlons d'autres choses.'

I got our Woodbridge Bookseller to enquire for your Mr. Child's Ballad-
book; but could only hear, and indeed be shown a specimen, of a large
Quarto Edition, _de luxe_ I believe, and would not meddle with that. I
do not love any unwieldy Book, even a Dictionary; and I believe that I am
contented enough with such Knowledge as I have of the old Ballads in many
a handy Edition. Not but I admire Mr. Child for such an undertaking as
his; but I think his Book will be more for Great Libraries, Public or
Private, than for my scanty Shelves at my age of seventy-five. I have
already given away to Friends all that I had of any rarity or value,
especially if over octavo.

By the way there was one good observation, I think, in Mrs. Oliphant's
superficial, or hasty, History of English 18th Century Literature, viz.,
that when the Beatties, Blacks, and other recognized Poets of the Day
were all writing in a 'classical' way, and tried to persuade Burns to do
the like, it was certain Old Ladies who wrote so many of the Ballads,
which, many of them, have passed as ancient, 'Sir Patrick Spence' for
one, I think.

Our Spring flowers have been almost all spoilt by Winter weather, and the
Trees before my window only just now beginning to

Stand in a mist of Green,

as Tennyson sings. Let us hope their Verdure, late arrayed, will last
the longer. I continue pretty well, with occasional reminders from
Bronchitis, who is my established Brownie.

_To S. Laurence_.

WOODBRIDGE. _Tuesday_,
[_June_ 12, 1883].

MY DEAR LAURENCE,

It is very kind of you to remember one who does so little to remind you
of himself. Your drawing of Allen always seemed to me excellent, for
which reason it was that I thought his Wife should have it, as being the
Record of her husband in his younger days. So of the portrait of
Tennyson which I gave his Wife. Not that I did not value them myself,
but because I did value them, as the most agreeable Portraits I knew of
the two men; and, for that very reason, presented them to those whom they
were naturally dearer to than even to myself. I have never liked any
Portrait of Tennyson since he grew a Beard; Allen, I suppose, has kept
out of that.

If I do not write, it is because I have absolutely nothing to tell you
that you have not known for the last twenty years. Here I live still,
reading, and being read to, part of my time; walking abroad three or four
times a day, or night, in spite of wakening a Bronchitis, which has
lodged like the household 'Brownie' within; pottering about my Garden (as
I have just been doing) and snipping off dead Roses like Miss Tox; and
now and then a visit to the neighbouring Seaside, and a splash to Sea in
one of the Boats. I never see a new Picture, nor hear a note of Music
except when I drum out some old Tune in Winter on an Organ, which might
almost be carried about the Streets with a handle to turn, and a Monkey
on the top of it. So I go on, living a life far too comfortable as
compared with that of better, and wiser men: but ever expecting a reverse
in health such as my seventy-five years are subject to. What a tragedy
is that of ---! So brisk, bright, good, a little woman, who seemed made
to live! And now the Doctors allot her but two years longer at most, and
her friends think that a year will see the End! and poor ---, tender,
true, and brave! His letters to me are quite fine in telling about it.
Mrs. Kemble wrote me word some two or three months ago that he was
looking very old: no wonder. I am told that she keeps up her Spirits the
better of the two. Ah, Providence might have spared 'pauvre et triste
Humanite' that Trial, together with a few others which (one would think)
would have made no difference to its Supremacy. 'Voila ma petite
protestation respectueuse a la Providence,' as Madame de Sevigne says.

To-morrow I am going (for my one annual Visit) to G. Crabbe's, where I am
to meet his Sisters, and talk over old Bredfield Vicarage days. Two of
my eight Nieces are now with me here in my house, for a two months'
visit, I suppose and hope. And I think this is all I have to tell you of

Yours ever sincerely
E. F. G.

* * * * *

This was in all probability the last letter FitzGerald ever wrote. On
the following day, Wednesday, June 13, he went to pay his annual visit at
Merton Rectory. On Friday the 15th I received from Mr. Crabbe the
announcement of his peaceful end: 'I grieve to have to tell you that our
dear friend Edward FitzGerald died here this morning [June 14]. He came
last evening to pay his usual visit with my sisters, but did not seem in
his usual spirits, and did not eat anything. . . . At ten he said he
would go to bed. I went up with him. . . . At a quarter to eight I
tapped at his door to ask how he was, and getting no answer went in and
found him as if sleeping peacefully but quite dead. A very noble
character has passed away.' On the following Tuesday, June 19, he was
buried in the little churchyard of Boulge, and the stone which marks his
grave bears the simple inscription 'Edward FitzGerald, Born 31 March
1809, Died 14 June 1883. It is He that hath made us and not we
ourselves.'

For some time before his death he seems to have had a foreboding that the
end was not far distant. In one of the last conversations I had with
him, certainly during my last visit at Easter 1883, he spoke of his
mother's death, in its suddenness very like his own, and at the same age.
'We none of us get beyond seventy-five,' he said. At this age his eldest
brother had died, four years before. And in a letter to one of his
nieces, after speaking of the fatal malady by which the wife of a dear
friend was attacked, he added, 'It seems strange to me to be so seemingly
alert--certainly, alive--amid such fatalities with younger and stronger
people. But, even while I say so, the hair may break, and the suspended
Sword fall. If it would but do so at once, and effectually!' Sixteen
days later his wish was fulfilled.

INDEX TO LETTERS

_To_ MISS AITKEN, 188

_To_ JOHN ALLEN, 63*, 70-72*, 74, 169*, 206, 219

_To_ MRS. CHARLES ALLEN, 7-9*, 14-16*

_To_ MISS ANNA BIDDELL, 134, 178, 179, 189, 205, 295, 304

_From_ CARLYLE, 135, 154, 155, 167, 175*

_To_ CARLYLE, 5, 128, 155, 165

_To_ E. B. COWELL, 1, 4*, 19*, 26, 44*, 52*, 57, 59*, 68*, 78*, 83-86*,
93-95*, 99, 103, 106*, 107, 111*, 128 _note_, 180, 185, 202, 270 _note_,
322 _note_

_To_ MRS. COWELL, 65*, 196, 216

_To_ GEORGE CRABBE, 17, 18, 21, 35, 39, 41, 42, 51, 57, 208 _note_

_To_ W. E. CROWFOOT, 118 _note_

_From_ W. B. DONNE, 169 _note_

_To_ W. B. DONNE, 3, 33, 40, 48, 66, 91, 164

_To_ FITZEDWARD HALL, 220*

_To_ LORD HOUGHTON, 285*

_To_ CHARLES KEENE, 280, 289-293

_To_ MRS. KEMBLE, 298, 305, 310-312, 320, 332-335

_To_ S. LAURENCE, 50, 55, 56, 113-116, 171, 190, 212, 277, 303, 337, 346

_To_ J. R. LOWELL, 224-226, 235, 245-249, 257, 260, 261, 266-272

_To_ C. E. NORTON, 157, 186, 190-192, 196-199, 203, 208, 213, 222, 229-
234, 241-244, 253-255, 258, 262, 275, 278, 281, 294, 298, 301, 315-318,
321, 327, 329, 330, 339, 340, 343

_To_ W. F. POLLOCK, 12, 96, 102, 117-121, 127, 130-132, 135, 137-152, 158-
163, 168, 172, 181, 307, 336, 338, 342

_To_ MISS S. F. SPEDDING, 313, 314

_To_ FREDERIC TENNYSON, 89

_To_ HALLAM (now LORD) TENNYSON, 328

_To_ MRS. ALFRED (now the DOWAGER LADY) TENNYSON, 308

_To_ MISS THACKERAY, 141 _note_, 207

_From_ W. H. THOMPSON, 174*

_To_ W. H. THOMPSON, 11, 24, 28-31, 34, 36*, 51, 73, 76, 77, 80*, 123,
177*, 296*

_To_ MRS. W. H. THOMPSON, 108, 183

_To_ R. C. TRENCH, 23, 62, 284, 287

_To_ H. SCHUTZ WILSON, 324

_To_ W. A. WRIGHT, 97, 126, 133, 217, 238, 239, 251, 322*

_The asterisks indicate the letters which are here printed for the first
time_.

INDEX

ACADEMY (Royal), Exhibition of, i. 39

Acis and Galatea, i. 101, 102, 239

Aconites, 'New Year's Gifts,' ii. 180, 320

AEschylus, the geography of the Agamemnon, ii. 33-35; FitzGerald's
translation of the Agamemnon, 109, 112, 162, 186, 188, 216; reviewed in
the Nation, 224; Dr. Kennedy's translation, 259

Airy (William), at school with FitzGerald, i. 2; visits him at
Woodbridge, ii. 66

Aitken (Lucy), her letters, ii. 64

Aldeburgh, ii. 290-292, 332; storm at, 342

Allegro and Penseroso, i. 153, 166

Allen (Anne), i. 72

--(Dr.), i. 79

--John, at Cambridge with FitzGerald, i. 2; letters to, 4, 5, etc.; his
portrait by Laurence, ii. 15, 346

--(Mary), i. 70, 72, 73

Allenby (Mrs.), i. 155

Arnold (Dr.), his visit to Naseby with Carlyle, i. 125, 126, 132; his
Life, 181

Art, objects of, article in Fraser, ii. 145

Arthur (King), the myth of, not suitable for an epic poem, ii.. 111

Attar's Mantic uttair, i. 311, 312, 314-317, 319, 320, 342

Ausonius, i. 205 _note_

Austen (Miss), ii. 13, 131, 174; FitzGerald could not read her novels,
190

Austin (Mrs.), characteristics of Goethe, i. 53

Azael the Prodigal, i. 268

BACON, Essay of Friendship, i. 21; of Masques, 153; Sylva, ii. 160

Balfe, ballad by, i. 178

Barton (Bernard), his poems, i. 105; his visit to Peel, 203; his portrait
by Laurence, 215, 225, 234; his death, 243, 246; edition of his Letters
and Poems with Memoir by FitzGerald, 246, 251, 252, 308

--(Lucy), afterwards Mrs. Edward FitzGerald, i. 50 _note_, 158, 186, 215,
216, 246, 249, 310, 326

Bassano, i. 186

Bath, i. 288

Beaumont (Sir G.), i. 165

Beauty the main object of the Arts, ii. 132

Beauty Bob, FitzGerald's parrot, i. 159

Beckford (Peter), Essays on Hunting, ii. 280

--(W.), i. 288

Beethoven, i. 57, 103, 113, 195, 200, 277, 290, ii. 118, 119, his Life by
Moscheles, i. 112

Beranger, his Letters, ii. 152, quoted 181

Berry (Miss), her correspondence, ii. 73

Bewick, his Life contains an account of a meeting of Wordsworth and
Foscolo, ii. 197

Blake, Songs of Innocence, i. 25

Bletsoe, i. 61; the Falcon Inn, 74

Bloomfield (Mrs.), mother of the poet, a saying of hers quoted, ii. 88

Boccaccio, ii. 203, 204

Bodham (Mrs.), i. 190

Borrow (George), i. 317, 334, 342; his Romany Rye, 331; Wild Wales, ii.
35

Bosherston, i. 337

Boswell's Life of Johnson, Croker's edition of, ii. 75

Boughton, pictures at, i. 56

Boulge Hall, his father's seat, i. 38, 75; 'Malebolge,' 79 _note_

Brambelli, i. 194

Bredfield House, i. 1, 63, 64

Brooke (F. C.), ii. 146

Browne (W.), Britannia's Pastorals, ii. 240

Browne (W. K.), i. 55, 123, 167; his marriage, 168, 185; first meets
FitzGerald at Tenby, 338; ii. 8, 10; his fatal accident 2-4, 6, 8

Browning Society (the), ii. 323

Brydges (Sir Egerton), i. 87

Burke's Letters, i. 182

Burnet (John), on Painting, i. 147

Burnet's History, i. 68

Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, i. 139; Carlyle's style influenced by,
_ib._

Busbequius, i. 230

Byron's Verses on Rogers, ii. 144

CALDERON, translations from, i. 281, 282, 323, 346, 347; ii. 60, 112,
261; edition of the Magico, 262; his lines about Madrid, 274;
unfavourably noticed in the Athenaeum, i. 284; Trench's translation from
307; ii. 287; the Calderon medal sent to FitzGerald, 319

Campion (J. S.), On Foot in Spain, ii. 273

Carew quoted, i. 12, 13

Carlyle (Mrs.), her letters, ii. 343

--(T.), his French Revolution, i. 50; reviewed by Spedding, 73;
Miscellanies, 65; Hero Worship, 82, 85; Sartor Resartus, 123; Cromwell,
126, etc, 187, 190, 196, 207; his account of the battle of Naseby, 205;
writes on Ireland in the Examiner, 239, 253; his saying about Dickens,
251; his Latter Day Pamphlets, 258; at Malvern 272; at Firlingay with
FitzGerald, 295; at Croydon, 302; reading Voltaire, 302; his Frederic the
Great, ii. 7, 64; Mrs. Carlyle's death, 89; Letters on Naseby, 128; on
Omar Khayyam, 154, 155; article in Fraser, 178-180; staying near Bromley,
183; his letters to FitzGerald about Cromwell, 184; Medal and Address
presented to him on his eightieth birthday, 186; his Lectures on Hero
Worship, 191; his visit to Dumfries, 201; reads Victor Hugo, 229; till
past midnight at his books, 234, 236; his visit to Thirlwall, 237;
reading Goethe, 253; sends FitzGerald his Norway Kings and Knox, 254;
reads Shakespeare through to himself, 270; buried at Ecclefechan, 298,
309; his Reminiscences, 302, 304, 308, 311, 317; his visit to Ireland,
323; Biography, 332, 334, 339; correspondence with Emerson, 340, 342

Castle Ashby, pictures at, i. 121

Catullus, ii. 232, 233, 238, 239

Charlesworth (Miss E.), afterwards Mrs. E. B. Cowell, i. 156, 160, 174;
her poems, ii. 54

--(Miss M.), ii. 54

Cherubini's Medea, ii. 119

Child (Professor), his English Ballads, ii. 344

Childs (Charles), of Bungay, i. 265

Chorley's Musical Recollections, ii. 127

Churchyard (T.), a solicitor at Woodbridge, and an amateur artist, i. 94,
117, 133, 147, 148, 159, 190, 192, 2l6, 221, 243; calls the winter
Aconites 'New Year's Gifts', ii. 180; his sketch of Thorpe headland by
Aldeburgh, 292

Clarissa Harlowe, i. 108; ii. 64, 107, 208; a favourite with Alfred de
Musset, 243, 248

Clarke (E. W.), i. 114

Claude, i. 54

Clive (Kitty), her saying of Mrs. Siddons, ii. 184

Clora, verses to, i. 15, 19

Coleridge, Life by De Quincey, i. 32

Collins (Wilkie), The Woman in White, ii. 90, 95, 131

Constable (J.), pictures by, i. 76-78, 100, 104, 106, 117, 159; Life by
Leslie, 165

Contat (Mademoiselle), ii. 148

Cookson (Dr. W.), a correspondent of Carlyle's, i. 156, 157; his death,
161

Coverley, Sir Roger de, suggested illustrations of, by Thackeray, i. 29,
39

Cowell (E. B.), his translations from Hafiz, i. 205, 294, 304, 306, 332;
paper on the Mesnavi, 232; goes up to Oxford, 261; article on Calderon in
the Westminster Review, 284, 307; his Pracrit Grammar, 286; his Oxford
Essay, 307; appointed Professor of History at the Presidency College,
Calcutta 309; his translation of Azrael, ii. 27; visits FitzGerald on his
return to England, 57; elected Sanskrit Professor at Cambridge, 93; his
Inaugural Lecture, 95, 97; visits FitzGerald at Woodbridge, 232; his
suggestion for a Spanish Dictionary on the plan of Littre, 258, 273; at
Lowestoft with FitzGerald reading Don Quixote, 272, 274-277

Cowley, ii. 26

Crabbe (Rev. George), the poet, hears Wesley preach at Lowestoft, i. 292;
quoted, ii. 17, 163, 187, 210, 211, 256, 272; selections from his poems,
67, 211, 214, 258, 281; portraits of him, 171; FitzGerald's admiration
for, 210, 215; readings from, 264, 266; his humour, 209, 269, 281; his
epigrammatic power, 270, 272; article on him in the Atlantic Monthly, 281

--(Rev. George), Vicar of Bredfield, i. 39, 187, 260, 262, 265, 266, 274,
286, 296, 297; ii. 210; reads D' Israeli's Coningsby, i. 174; Whewell's
Plurality of Worlds, 293; his illness, 334; and death, 340

--(Rev. George), Rector of Merton, his account of FitzGerald, i. 148, 149

Crome, i. 117, 191

Cromwell, i. 137; his Lincolnshire campaign, 154; miniature copied by
Laurence, 198; the Squire Letters, 213

DANTE, his portrait by Giotto, i. 90, 93; like Homer atones with the sea,
ii. 45; quoted, 48, 146; translated into Modern Greek by Musurus Pasha,
323, 327

D'Arblay (Madame), anecdote of, ii. 56; on Johnson's later years, 75

Darien Song (the), i. 100

Davenant's alteration of Macbeth, i. 31

De Quincey, life of Coleridge, i. 32; paper on Southey, etc., in Tait's
Magazine, 65; on Wordsworth, 199; proposed to Lowell as the subject for
an Essay, ii. 246

De Soyres (the Rev. John), FitzGerald's nephew, his edition of Pascal's
Letters, ii. 297

Deutsch (Emanuel), his article on the Talmud in the Quarterly, ii. 97

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